"Oh my god," I mumbled, walking into the boy's motel room. It was a mess. Empty take-out containers littered the place, along with dirty clothes and other things I didn't even want to know. Sam had seemed to find the only spot looking kind of clean, but even the coffee table he sat by had empty plastic bags and old soda containers littering it, probably left from lunch a day or two ago. Dean hadn't even bothered to eat by a table and was lying on one of the beds and stuffing his face with, what looked like, fires covered in bacon, not caring to use a fork. "Pigs," I continued to mumble. "I live with pigs." Dean licked his fingers, and Sam took a break from his reading, glancing up at me and following my gaze to his brother.
"Dude. You mind not eating those on MY bed?" the younger of the two complained.
"No, I don't mind." Dean shoved more fries into his mouth, looking up and acknowledging my presence. "How's research going?" Dean once again licked his fingers and flipped the page in the magazine he was reading.
I walked in with a sigh, not even wanting to answer, and closed the door behind me.
"You know how it's going?" Sam shot Dean an annoyed look, slamming his book shut. "Slow. You know how it would go a heck of a lot faster? If I had my computer."
Dean nodded his head and smiled sarcastically. "Hmm."
"You're both on my last nerves," I warned them, focusing on Dean. "I want mine back as well." Dean just rolled his eyes and continued to stuff his face. I clenched my jaw tight, trying to hold back the line of profanity that I wanted to follow. "Now, Dean, or you can go buy me a new one."
"I didn't take your stupid computers."
My lungs filled with a deep breath, and had I bothered to go to a dentist, they would have told me that my teeth had ground down to nothing, which would have been caused at that exact moment.
"I was the one who paid for it to begin with. Why would I hide it?" Dean reasoned.
"I don't know! But it's not a coincidence that both mine and Sam's computers are gone. I won't be mad if you broke it. Just tell me and pay up." I glared at Dean. "And you only paid for it 'cause you broke my first one."
Dean decided to ignore me, which enraged me to new limits. Sam huffed beside me, and I glared at him, letting him know he wasn't in the clear either. I slammed down the folder I had brought next to him and returned to where I had been sitting not an hour earlier, assembling my guns and sharpening my knives. When I left, the table had been clean except for my weapons and all their parts. It was now littered with candy wrappers and empty styrofoam containers from whatever burger joint the brothers had ordered from.
"Can you turn that down, please?" Sam called to his brother, referring to the music playing on the radio next to Dean.
"Yeah, absolutely," the twenty-seven-year-old hunter replied, only to turn the volume up. I removed the garbage from the table, from my weapons, and put it on the small counter in the kitchenette, deciding I would not be the one to clean up this mess.
"You know what? Maybe, uh, maybe you should just go somewhere for a while," Sam snapped to his brother over the music.
"Not until he cleans up," I mumbled to myself, knowing neither of the brothers would listen at the moment. Instead, I slumped back into one of the chairs and resumed putting the guns together.
The radio turned off after Sam's outburst. "Hey, I'd love to," Dean began, snapping right back. "That's a great idea. Unfortunately, my car's all screwed to hell."
I could feel him glare a hole through my head and I was dead set on ignoring him.
Reassembling all my guns didn't take long, but it was annoying that I had to. Someone (Sam) had decided it would be a fun prank to take them apart to the last springs and leave them in a heap on the floor.
"Will--." Whatever Dean had been about to say was interrupted by a knock on the door. I immediately stiffened but remained seated. The click of the magazine sliding into place in my hand made Sam stand with a sigh, realizing I - even though closest- was not going to get the door.
"Hey, Bobby," Sam greeted once he opened the door. I aimed at a beer can that littered the floor, momentarily contemplating what would happen if I shot it.
"Boys." There was a beat of silence. "Willow."
I didn't look up, which I know was kind of rude, but I was in one of the foulest moods I had been in for a long time, which was saying a lot. Had I opened my mouth, nobody would be happy, even if it wasn't Bobby's fault.
I moved on to assemble the next gun, noting Dean get up from his spot.
"Hey, Bobby," Dean called, walking over.
"It's good to see you again so soon," Bobby commented, with a hint of a smile in his voice.
"Yeah, uh, thanks for coming. Come on in."
Dean and Bobby reached to shake hands, and I was just about to warn the older of them that Dean had licked his hand clean just a few seconds earlier, but it was already too late, so I just cringed in silence, shooting Dean a disgusted look.
"Thank god you're here," he told Bobby, relieved.
"So, um, what didn't you want to talk to me on the phone about?"
"It's this job we're working," Sam explained. "We— We weren't sure you'd believe us."
They scoff that sounded through the room was one I knew all too well. Every time a hunter heard those words, it was followed by something perfectly normal, someone had spotted a ghost or perhaps a werewolf or anything like it. Not this time. Bobby turned to one of the standard answers used by hunters. "Well, I can believe a lot."
"Yeah, no, no, it's just, we've never seen anything like it—" Sam continued.
"Not even close," Dean cut in.
"And we thought we could use some fresh eyes."
"Well, why don't you begin at the beginning?" Bobby advised with a shrug, lightheartedly.
"Yeah, um, all right." Sam gestured for them all to take a seat. Bobby looked around for a clutter-free space, moving one of Dean's empty take-out trays to be able to sit on the corner of the bed, creating a small formation where I, even though a bit further away, was the fourth point, and the beer can was in the middle.
"So, it all started when we caught wind of an obit. See, a professor took a nosedive from a fourth-story window, only there's a campus legend that the building's haunted. So we pretexted as reporters from the local paper," Sam began.
"Dean and Willow disappeared in the crowd once we got inside the bar, but I stayed on the task. I was interviewing two of the professor's students to see if we could get any more information;
"Yeah, we both had the professor for Ethics and Morality," Curtis explained. He was your average jock, probably only in college for the football, booze, and girls.
"Yeah? So why do you think he did it?"
"Who knows?" Jen asked. She was cute, probably only there because of Curtis but way more into the whole interview thing than him. "I mean, he was tenured, wife and kids. His book is like a really big deal. Then again... Who's to say it was suicide?" It was something in the way she leaned in closer that caught my attention, the way she indicated something might be a bit... unnatural, the usual sighs we look for, but Curtis just scoffed.
"Jen, come on."
"Well, what else could it be?" I asked, pretending like I knew nothing."
I listened intently to Sam's version of events, finding his voice calming while I assembled the next gun and double-checked that I had the right part.
"Jen continued to lean in as if it was all a secret, so I continued to listen, see what I could get out of them;
"Well, you know about Crawford Hall?"
I told them I didn't.
"It's a bunch of crap, it's a total urban legend," Curtis said, trying to write it off as nothing, but Jen persisted.
"Yeah, well, Heather's mom went to school here, and she knew the girl?"
"Wait, what girl?"
"Thirty years ago, this girl was having an affair with some professor. He broke it off, she jumped out the window and killed herself."
Naturally, that caught my interest. It would fit the line of venging spirit. "You know her name?"
"No. But they say she jumped from room six-six-nine. Get it? You turn the nine upside down?"
I'll admit, it was weak, but we've worked with less, and the cause of death was the same. She must have seen the skepticism on my face 'cause she continued;
"So now she haunts the building. And anyone who sees her? They don't live to tell the tale," Jen told us. Curtis wasn't as enthusiastic about the story as Jen was.
"Well, if no one lives to tell the tale, then how does the tale get told?"
She told him to shut up, not really having a comeback, and I saw that as my cue to move on. So, I excused myself to go find Will and Dean.
Will had sat by the corner and was chatting to some dude. They sat close to each other, the guy's hand on her back like he was trying to hold her closer. I actually don't think I've ever seen her so relaxed in a crowded bar before. I've definitely never seen her so cozied up with anyone but..." Sam cleared his throat, and I glanced up, catching the look Dean gave him.
"Anyway, I found Dean by the bar, throwing back some purple shots. He had three in a row before glancing back to Will and the guy she was with. Looking ready to kill.
"Dean. Dean, what are you drinking?" I asked, pushing in between the people by the bar. He turned to me, obviously drunk.
"I don't know, man. I think they're called purple nurples?" He burped.
"Okay, well listen. I think maybe we should go check out the professor's office," I explained, trying to move on with the case since neither Dean nor Willow seemed to search for any leads.
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no I can't right now. I've got some feisty little wildcat on the hook. I'm about to – zzzzp – reel her in. I'll introduce you." And before I could stop him, Dean turned and called out for Starla.
"Starla! Starla, hey. This is my shuttle co-pilot Major Tom. Major Tom, Starla."
She wore fishnet leggings and this really short skirt, definitely Dean's usual type. She turned, throwing back her purple shot as she did, throwing her arm around Dean.
"Enchanté," she slurred, even drunker than Dean.
"Hi," I greeted, trying not to be rude, but it was hard after she covered her mouth and started gagging. I am pretty sure she threw up in her mouth and then swallowed it again, but she grinned once nothing came out.
"Sorry. Just trying to keep my liquor down!"
Dean actually smiled at her as if he was proud, praising her, "Yeah! Good job." Sam imitated. "before he turned back to me and leaned in. "Hey. Good news. She's got a sister."
I swear to God, it was a miracle she was standing straight, and they both grinned at me... When Starla wasn't looking, Dean glanced over to Will, over and over..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a minute," Dean complained, bringing everyone back to the present.
"What?"
"Come on, dude, that's not how it happened," Dean told him. I continued to my last gun, beginning to assemble it, and bit the inside of my cheeks, trying to keep my emotions at bay.
"No? So you never drank a purple nurple?" Sam challenged.
"Yeah, maybe that, but I don't say things like 'feisty little wildcat'," Dean frowned. "I wasn't staring at Will. I just made sure she was good. Once. And her name wasn't Starla."
"Then what was it?"
Dean took a second to think about it but shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted, and I rolled my eyes. Dean turned back to Bobby, taking up the storytelling. "But she was a classy chick. She was a grad student, anthropology and folklore. We were talking about local ghost stories;
Like I said, she was classy. She had these black heels and a tight, black cocktail dress that hugged all the right places. We ordered purple nurples to toast.
"Here's to..."
She wasn't sure what to say, so I filled in for her. "Here's to us."
We drank our shots, and she couldn't take her eyes off me.
"My god, you are attractive," she told me.
"Thanks. But no time for that now." I took a quick moment to ensure Sam was good and scanned the place. Instead of finding Sam, I saw Will push up her boobs and walk over to some random dude, so at least I knew that she was okay. More than okay. She seemed great." Dean cleared his troat and then continued. "I turned my focus back to the case;
"You need to tell me about this urban legend. Please. Lives are at stake."
"Sorry, I just... can't even concentrate. It's like staring... into the sun." She pulled me in and kissed me, slow, passionate..."
I began to sharpen one of my knives, and three sets of eyes turned my way. I didn't halt my movement but leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and continuing dragging the stone over the blade.
"Oh, please," I begged. "Don't stop on my account. I want to hear how this one ends."
Dean gave me a long, contemplating look. His eyes darted from my face to the knife in my hand, and then he tried to catch my eyes. I let him, raising a brow as if telling him I was waiting. Something in my stomach turned, but I pushed it down deep, reminding myself that I was the one that left. Dean had begged me to stay, but I left. I had no right to be jealous.
"Anyway," Dean began again, looking a bit pensive about whether or not he should continue. "Like I said, we kissed. Then Sam came up to us, holding his jacket over his shoulder with that expression like he is better than anyone else, a real brat.
"Dean! What do you think you're doing?" He asked in his bitchy voice.
"Sam, please," I begged him calmly. "If you wouldn't mind, give me five minutes here."
"Dean, this is a very serious investigation," Sam went on. I couldn't just leave the girl high and dry, so I turned back to her, continuing our kiss, but Sam couldn't take a hint, so he just went on and on and on. "We don't have any time for any of your blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah Blah!"
"Right!" Sam snarled sarcastically, interrupting Dean. "And that's how it really happened." Dean shrugged. "I don't sound like that, Dean!"
I inspected the edge of my blade, feeling the new sharpness with my thumb.
"That's what you sound like to me," Dean sassed.
I let my knife hit the can in the middle of the floor with a satisfying 'cling,' drawing all attention to me.
"You're both assholes, you know that? It's disgusting how you objectify women." I glared at Sam and Dean in order. "And first of all, guys, her name wasn't Starla. It was Stella. And Dean was right; she studied anthropology and folklore. But Dean, she was drunk as fuck and not as classy as you remember. She threw up on my shoes on our way out, but at least she was nice enough to apologize."
The boys had the decency to look ashamed when I spoke, and I even thought I saw Dean flinch but decided I must've imagined it. "Second, I don't think Bobby is interested in hearing how Dean and Stella sucked each other's faces off," I scolded, moving on to sharpen my next knife, not really understanding what Sam had done to dull them so much.
"Okay. What's going on with you three?" Bobby wondered, looking from me to Dean and then Sam.
"Nothing. No— it's nothing," the youngest claimed.
"No, come on. You two are bickering like an old married couple," Bobby nodded between the brothers. "And I don't know what to make of you, Willow."
"No, see, married couples can get divorced. Me and him, we're like, uh, Siamese twins," Dean told Bobby, standing and walking past me to the kitchenette.
"It's conjoined twins!" Sam exclaimed, exasperated.
"See what I mean?" Dean responded. "And as for Will," he glanced back at me. "She's always like that." I flinched at his words, hoping they didn't notice.
"Look, it-" Sam sighed. "We've just been on the road for too long. Tight quarters, all that. Don't worry about it."
Bobby nodded slowly. "Okay." He turned back to me again, taking me in with his blue eyes.
"What about your side of the story, Willow?" Bobby inquired. I snapped my eyes up and could feel how my lip curled.
"Well, how nice of you to ask, Bobby. None of these two knuckleheads did."
This time it was Bobby who glared at the two men with a frown on his face.
"I'm not really a fan of crowded places," I explained. "So, once we got to the bar and Sam tracked down the two students to interview and Dean disappeared in the crowd, I began to search for a nice quiet corner. Instead, I found one of the faculty members who worked with the victim, Steve Teller;
I walked over and introduced myself. He was young, probably in his early thirties.
"Yeah, I worked with him. I was supposed to wait for him so we could finish up planning a project, but he ran late, so we rescheduled. I never thought that'd be the last time..." His voice broke, so I reached out to try to comfort him. I'm not good with that kind of stuff, but it seemed to help to some degree.
"Why don't you tell me what happened?"
"I only know what everyone else knows, really. He jumped out of the window. They say it's suicide." I caught on to a tone in his voice, so I pushed a bit to see what I could get out of him, using my sweetest voice.
"But you don't think it is?"
"I need more alcohol to talk about this," he stood up. "Let me buy you something."
He didn't really wait for my response but walked to the bar and ordered drinks. I could see Sam talking with some students on the other side of the bar, and Dean and Stella were kicking back shots.
"Here," Steve said and handed me a beer. I accepted it, hoping to get him to talk some more.
"Tell me about the professor. What was he like?"
Steve leaned in close, whispering in my ear. I would have pushed him off if I didn't want to know what he would say. His breath smelled like too many beers, and I don't know, perhaps garlic?
"He was a real asshole. Always thought he was better than everyone else. But that book he published? I wrote half of it."
"Really? Why would he steal it?" I asked, wanting to follow every lead.
"That's just the way he was, a real bully. He'd do anything to feel powerful." He slid his arms around my waist, and I had to hide the disgust on my face, reminding myself that I needed to know what he was going to say. I plastered on a smile and leaned closer.
"Why don't you tell me what you think happened to him," I inquired.
"Yeah, yeah... I -- This is gonna sound crazy... but there is this local ghost story." He told me the same shit Sam got, and I decided it was time to get out of the situation because his hands had begun to travel.
"Why leave so soon?" Steve asked once I stood up. He tried to pull me down again, and I..."
I huffed in annoyance at the memory. "I promise, I warned him to get his hands off, twice at least. He had it coming."
The three men looked at me with confusion and worry.
"He groped me, okay?" I held my hands in front of me as if protecting myself. "I just-- it was just by habit. I didn't mean to hit him so hard."
"You... hit him?" Dean asked, surprised. I bit my lip and nodded in confirmation, noting Dean's shoulders relaxed and the satisfied smirk growing on his lips.
I scoffed. "He was acting like a dick, so I punched him in the throat."
"Oh," Bobby said in understanding. "Well, at least your safe."
I snorted. "I wasn't worried," I told the older hunter with a cocky look that soon faded. "I just didn't mean to hit so hard he'd have to call an ambulance."
"That's why you were in such a hurry to get out," Sam realized, turning to Bobby to explain. "She practically grabbed us by the necks and dragged us out."
"It was a real struggle to pry Stella away from Dean, though. That girl could talk."
"Hey, and here I thought you just wanted..." Dean trailed off once I shot him a look. He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. "to get on with the case is what I was going to say-- Definitely. You wanted to get on with the case."
I rolled my eyes. "Sammy, care to continue with the story?"
Sam sighed but nodded. "So anyway. We figured it might be a haunting, so we went to check out the scene of the crime;
The janitor let us in. This time we were posing as electricians. Will was the one who began our questioning, starting with the basics, trying to find a way into the subject.
"So, have you been working here for a long time?"
"I've been mopping this floor for six years," the janitor told us as he let us in. "There you go, guys." He turned on the lights and walked into the office with us. "What the heck's that for?" He asked and pointed to the EMF I had pulled out.
I explained, "Just find a wire in the walls."
"Huh. Wow. Not sure why you're wiring up this office. Not gonna do the professor much good."
"Why's that?" Dean asked.
"He's dead," the janitor told us bluntly.
"Oh, What happened?" Dean asked.
"He went out that window. Right there." The janitor pointed to the window, and Will walked over, looking out, making Dean and the janitor check out her ass."
I rolled my eyes at the information, annoyed. "Sam," I warned. "I suggest you stick to the essentials." My voice was like venom, and the younger Winchester shrugged, glancing at Dean.
Sam held up his hands as if needing to protect himself from the look he received back, but he continued to tell his story;
"Yeah? Were you working that night?" I asked the janitor.
"I'm the one who found him," he answered with a conspiratory look.
"So... Did you see it happen?" Will asked, looking around for anything interesting. She focused on Dean, who had found a candy bowl, and sighed. She pulled her hand over her braids, which usually means she's annoyed.
"Nope. I just saw him come up here, and uh... well."
"What?" I inquired.
"He wasn't alone."
That was the moment Dean walked up to us, cheeks stuffed. He probably had every piece of candy in that bowl stuffed in his mouth. We could barely hear what he said.
"Who was he with?"
"Come on! I ate one, maybe two!" Dean interrupted. "Tell them, Will!" He threw his hands up and gave me a pleading look as if counting on me to set the record straight.
I rolled my eyes and shot Bobby a look, letting him know I was done with the bullshit.
"Just let me tell it, okay?" Sam snarled and proceeded to tell the story without waiting for a response.
"He was with a young lady. I told the cops about her, but uh, I guess they never found her," the janitor told us.
"You saw this girl go in, huh? But did you ever see her come out?"
"Now that you mention it, no."
"Have you seen her before?" Will asked. "Did he bring her around often?"
"Well, not her."
"What do you mean?" Dean asked, still with his cheeks full. Come to think of it, he kind of looked like a chipmunk.
"I don't mean to cast aspersions on a dead guy, but uh... Mister Morality here? He brought a lot of girls up here. Got more ass than a toilet seat."
Dean laughed, and for a moment, I was afraid he would choke, but once Will quietly joined in the laughter, he quieted down. The janitor looked kinda pleased with himself, making Willow laugh, even if I think we all know it was fake.
"One more thing. This building, it only has four stories, right?" I asked, just to make sure.
"Yeah."
"So there wouldn't be a room six-six-nine?"
"'Course not. Why do you ask?"
I told the janitor I was just curious. Will looked at Dean with disgust when he chewed with his mouth open and then decided to end the conversation, so we headed back.
"Well, no traces of EMF, that's for sure," I declared when we entered the door.
"And the room six-six-nine's a load of crap," Dean confirmed.
"So, what do you think? The professor's just a jumper? A legend's just a legend?"
"Could be..." Will answered. "But there is something that feels... strange about this case. I just can't pinpoint what it is."
"I don't know. I mean, the uh, girl the janitor described, that's pretty weird," Dean agreed, twisting off the cap of a beer he took from the fridge.
"Yeah."
"We oughta check out the history of the building. See if any co-ed ganked herself there," Dean suggested while he walked into the bathroom.
"Yeah, you're right," I told him and picked up my computer to do just that, except my computer wasn't of much use. "Dude. Were you on my computer?"
"No," Dean denied, coming back out to speak.
"Oh really? 'Cause it's frozen now. On uh, Bustyasianbeauties.com."
Dean looked confused for a moment before his eyes widened in realization, and he visibly flinched. He knew he was caught, and instead of saying anything, he just walked back to the bathroom. "Dean! Would you – just – don't touch my stuff anymore, okay?"
"Why don't you control your OCD?" Dean snapped."
I sighed loudly, once again struck by the annoyance over how the Winchester brothers couldn't stick to the point. "Boys, please. Bobby doesn't give two shits about who was sexualizing or watching porn or whatever."
The older man nodded, informing everyone I was right and tried to get back on topic. "Did you dig up anything about the building? Or on the suicidal co-ed?" He walked away from the window he had wound up at, walking back over to me. I didn't let my eyes leave him, attempting to read what he thought about the case.
"No. History's clean," Sam informed Bobby, crossing his arms.
"Then it's not a haunting," Bobby concluded.
"Maybe not. Tell you the truth, we're not really sure," Dean sighed.
"What do you mean, you're not sure?"
"Well... it's weird," Sam explained.
"What's weird?"
"This next part, we uh, we didn't see it happen ourselves exactly, but it's pretty friggin weird. Even for us." Dean began, and I dug out two beers from the fridge, handing one to Bobby, knowing he would need it.