LITTLE SINGER ━━ Dean Winchester

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Chapter Fourteen:
" FALLEN IDOLS:
PART THREE "

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                    Her eyes lingered on the bright moon. Sam and Dean were checking their artillery. "We're about to torch Abraham Lincoln's ghost," she hummed. She looked down at the iron crowbar within her hands. "And James Dean's." Sam snorted at Dean's addition. "And possibly any other dead celebrity." He loaded his shot gun with salt bullets, sighing. "Let's go." Danielle swung the crowbar over her shoulder, following after Sam and Dean. The museum was even more frightening at night. Thin strips of moonlight cascaded through the ceiling. She stuck close to the boys in fear of getting lost.

Her eyes met Ghandi's and she shuddered in fear. "I really hate this," she voiced. Dean chuckled from in front of her. "Hey, check this out." She breathed out a breath of air before turning around to find Dean wearing Lincoln's hat. He cleared his throat. "Four score and seven years ago, I had a funny hat," he spoke, his voice lowered to match Lincoln's. She stomped toward the unsuspecting male and snatched the accessory from his head. "You're not funny," she told him as she tossed the hat into the trash can Sam held. "You're just saying that because you're scared," he retaliated, crossing his arms over his chest. "Or its because you're a child." Sam muffled his noise of amusement, glancing around the room.

          "Let's just torch the objects, torch the ghosts, get outta here. Okay?" Both turned away from Sam with a curt nod. Danielle had journeyed further in while Dean turned and stomped away, saying something about East of Eden's keychain. The room felt eerily quiet as Danielle peered around at the waxed figures. She felt chilly, like her body had been thrown into a refrigerator. The sound of a door slamming made her leap from her spot. "Sam?" she called out, her voice wavering. She held her crowbar out in front of her. It trembled within her grasp. "Dean? Danielle?" She began to move closer to where she last saw Sam, but stopped in her tracks when her breath condensed before her.

          "Sam!" she shouted. She bounced toward Lincoln, her whole body trembling. Sam turned to find Danielle jogging toward him, only lowering his shot gun slightly. "Its cold," she stated the obvious, holding the crowbar tight within her grip. "Yeah," he replied with a blank stare. Danielle squeezed her eyes closed as a creak sounded from behind her. Before she knew it, a scream ripped through her throat once she noticed Ghandi on Sam's back. "Get him off!" he shouted. She quickly aimed the crowbar toward Sam and took a hard swing. The metal barely dented the wax, only angering the thing further. "It didn't do anything!" she shouted, her breathing hard. She swung again, hitting Sam directly in the gut. He gasped for air, his body teetering forward until he landed on the ground.

          "Dean!" she shrieked as Ghandi stood from Sam's torso. Sam grunted as his weight shifted. She aimed the crowbar between herself and the monster, her eyes wide. She swung again, hitting him on the side of his head. Only then did the wax dent. "Now would be a great time to help!" Sam slowly stood, still clutching his gut where Danielle had whirled on him. He would surely have a bruise there later. She stumbled back, giving Ghandi enough time to pounce at her. She held him at arms length, his arms reaching for her from around the crowbar. Dean burst through the double doors, anger pulsing through him at the sight. "Get him! Get him!" she cried out. Sam lifted him from Danny's struggling frame.

          "Is that Ghandi?" Dean asked. Sam struggled to hold the figure back. He was too small and slick. He slipped through Sam's grasp and crawled onto his back, his arms wrapped tight around his neck. "Dude, he's squirrelly." Danielle scoffed. "Do something!" Dean looked toward the brunette who remained on the ground. She was shaken. Her hair was disheveled. "You do something!" Sam was gasping for air. "Someone! Do something!" he choked out. Danielle pushed herself to her feet when Ghandi elbowed Sam in the chest, hard. "The glass—" He was beginning to run out of oxygen. Both Dean and Danielle ran for the figure still standing there. She snatched the glasses from the figure and tossed them into the trash can. Dean flicked his lighter, the flame growing.