Lost and Found

04. Salt and Burn

PART ONE: FAMILY VALUES

CHAPTER FOUR: SALT AND BURN

------

TEAM WINCHESTER, BERKITSVILLE, USA

------

Dean thrust the shovel deep into the dirt and hauled another mound over the side of the grave. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he paused to hastily wipe it away. He looked across the grave to his brother who hardly looked to be breaking a sweat. "What are you? Half Sasquatch, half strong man?" His brother didn't even blink as he heaved another shovelful up and over the edge. 

"Nope, I just workout Dean, builds endurance."

Dean rolled his eyes and made a tired stab into the ground again where he heard a hollow thump. Both brothers paused and looked up to each other with raised eyebrows. "Looks like we found her," Dean said and they dug in with a renewed vigour, removing the last few scoops to pull back the lid. With a look of agreement they moved in a synchronized gesture that had obviously been built up over years of practise and threw back the coffin lid.

"Salt and burn Sammy!" Dean roared, relieved that the dig was finally over. Sam pushed his shaggy brown hair back and pulled himself up out of the grave, disappearing from view. A few minutes later he reappeared, preceded by a white box flying over the lip of the grave. Dean snatched it out of the air and tore into it, ignoring the 'pull here' tab labelled on the side. He tossed the cardboard top over his shoulder and started dumping the contents over the rotting skeleton. 

He made sure, as he did every time to dump a little extra over the skull, just to watch it stream over the edges and sink into the asshat's head. When the box was empty he threw it down and grabbed for his brother's outreached hand. Unlike Dean, Sam had a solemn puppy dog looking face that screamed 'I'm so sorry!' every time he lit up the bones of a vengeful spirit. They stood staring down at it for a while, the beam of a flashlight the only thing lighting up the grave. 

"Bueller... Bueller... Bueller," Dean droned in a monotone and Sam reacted by swatting him. "Well hurry up already, let's torch this bitch and get out of here!" Sam sighed and pulled out the zippo, flicking it to life and dropping it into the hole. The flame sputtered out and died. 

"Ah, you gonna go get that or...." Dean asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking off towards his car. Sam rolled his eyes and hopped back down into the grave, snatched the lighter from between the ribs of the dead body and hauled himself out again, making it look easier than Dean remembered. This time when the zippo dropped, the dry garments that the skeleton swam in licked into flames. Slowly at first and then all at once until the coffin was a blazing beacon in the night. 

A scream cut across the graveyard and the brothers immediately reacted, muscles tensed as they searched wildly out into the black night. "Dean," Sam said, nudging his brother with his elbow, gun up and trained on the wailing woman that stood barefoot in the dew covered grass only a few feet away. His brother turned and eyed the woman up and down, feeling a flicker of pity towards the very solid, very real looking woman before them.

Her screams grew in volume and her face contorted in anger as she made a last ditch attempt to lunge at them. Sam fired, knowing it wouldn't do much but remembering Dean's words the last time they faced a woman in white. It did no good to shoot casper in the face, but it certainly distracted her enough to buy Dean a few seconds of solace.

Seconds was all he managed to get. The red head appeared to his left, and she grabbed him. Dean yelled out as her fingers dug at his chest. Their screams mingled together in a chorus of throaty baritones and ear splitting sopranos that left Sam feeling a little helpless. All they needed was for the bones to finish burning, all they needed was time. Sam scooped a knife from the nearby bag and slashed at the woman. She hissed at him like a feral cat and then did the worst thing she could have possibly done - she pushed.