Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things
"I didn't know the college employed grief counselors." Neil--Angela's 'bestest friend in the whole world', according to Dean and the diary--tells us.
"Oh, yeah." Dean nodded as we stood on the front porch. "Yeah, you talk, we listen. You know, maybe throw in a therapeutic collage. Whatever helps jump-start the healing."
"Well, I think I'm okay, thanks." He turned to leave, but Sam stopped him by speaking up.
"Well, you heard what happened to Matt Harrison, right?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, I did." Neil nodded.
"We just wanted to make sure you were okay." I added.
"Grief can make people do crazy things." Sam continued.
"Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am. But if Matt killed himself, it wasn't because of grief." Neil stated.
"No? Then why?" Dean asked.
"It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault." Neil insisted.
"How was Matt responsible?" Sam asked.
"Well, she really loved that guy. But the night of the accident, she walked in on him with another girl." Neil explained. "She was really torn up. That's why she crashed the car. Um, look, I gotta get ready for work. So thanks for the concern, but seriously, I'll be okay." He disappeared back into the house.
___
"Well, that vengeful-spirit theory is starting to make sense." Dean stated as we walked down the street and back toward the Impala. "I mean, hell hath no fury."
"So if Angela got her revenge on Matt, do you think it's over?" Sam asked.
"Well, there's one way to be sure." Dean pulled out his keys as I slid into the car.
Sam did the same. "Yeah? What's that?"
Dean shut the door behind him. "Burn the bones."
"Burn the bones?" Sam asked, laughing. "Are you high?"
Dean had a look on his face as if he were thinking about the answer to that question.
"Dean." I complained, slapping his arm.
"Angela died last week." Sam stated.
"So?" Dean asked.
"So there's not gonna be bones. There's gonna be a ripe rotting body in the coffin."
"Since when are you afraid to get dirty, huh?"
"That's not my preferred kind of dirty, Dean. I'd rather not." I spoke up.
Dean just smiled at me.
___
I held a light as I stood above the grave Sam and Dean were digging. Dean dropped the shovel on the ground, turning to Sam. "Ladies first." He gestured to the coffin.
Sam sighed, rolling his eyes as he leaned down to open the casket.
It was empty.
"Any chance it's just a grave-robber?" I asked. "Like, a really creepy dude who likes dead girls?"
"They buried the body four days ago." Dean pointed out.
"I don't get it." Sam added.
"Wait, Si, baby, give me the light." Dean held his hand out.
I hand it to him, kneeling down to get a better look at what he was seeing. On the back of the coffin door was a bunch of symbols underneath the torn white fabric that lined the coffin.
The brothers knelt down. "What is that?" Dean asked.
"I'm not sure." Sam replied.
"I've seen these symbols before."
___
We had to wait until morning until we could go to the library to invesigate those symbols so we had a few hours to kill until then. I didn't even bother turning on the light as I walked into the motel room.
I just dropped down onto the bed, shutting my eyes. I felt the bed dip and Dean lay down beside me. Soon I was falling into a nice, peaceful sleep.
___
"Saige Dawson..." A masculine voice whispered. "Saige..."
I open my eyes only to be met with pure black all around me. I looked around, realizing that I was standing now. Where am I? What's going on?
Another voice echoed out, but it was a different one. It was a feminine voice, soft and dark. Alluring almost. "Saige....come to me....Let me in..."
I felt the familair tingling in my hands and fingers, the thousand little prickles. Then the burning in my chest lit again. This was the same feeling I got when I somehow killed that demon.
"Saige Dawson..." The masculine voice says again. Suddenly there was a bright white light in front of me.
I held my hand above my eyes, squinting against the light. When my eyes adjusted, I was able to see a faint outline of a man. He was tall, not as tall as Sam. But probably only an inch shorter than Dean.
Large, dark wings were sprouted from his back. The light cleared a little more and I was able to make out dark hair and blue eyes. The bright white light faded some more and I could see a trench coat covering a suit.
"Stay with the righteous..." he says.
Then it went dark again.
I panicked, spinning around only to realize it was nothing but dark all around me.
I stumbled back a bit when I noticed a dark figure moving toward me. It was a female, her small frame moved closer. I couldn't make out what she looked like. It was as if she were one with the dark.
"Let...me...in..." she whispered, suddenly right in front of my face. I still couldn't see her though. A ghostly touch brushed across my cheek. "Let me in..."
I screamed.
I jumped awake, sweat beading on my head and dripping down my neck. My chest heaves up and down. I looked around the small motel room. The sun was beginning to rise but it was still dark.
"Si?" Dean's voice made me jump. I relaxed a little when I felt his hand on my arm. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just...just a bad dream." I lie back down next to him.
___
The next morning, Dean beat on Dr. Mason's door.
"Look, how about we calm down here, Dean. Maybe just a little." I suggested, knowing this could easily go bad.
"She's right. Take it easy, okay?" Sam added.
The door opened. "You're Angie's friends, right?" Dr. Mason asked.
"Dr. Mason--" Sam began.
"We need to talk." Dean cut him off.
"Well, then, come in." Dr. Mason moved out of the doorway.
Dean walked in. I followed, muttering a thank you.
___
"You teach Ancient Greeks. Tell me," Dean pulled out the paper with the exact symbols that were on the coffin and held it out to Dr. Mason, "what are these?"
"I don't understand. You said this had something to do with Angela." Dr. Mason looked between us and the paper.
"It does. Please, just humor me." Dean shrugged his shoulders.
"They're part of an Ancient Greek divination ritual." Dr. Mason stated.
"Used for necromancy, right?"
"That's right."
"See, before we came over here, we stopped by the library and did some homework ourselves." Dean explained. "Apparently, they use rituals like this one for communicating with the dead. Even bringing corpses back to life, full-on zombie action."
"Yeah. I mean, according to the legends." Dr. Mason replied. "Now what's all this about."
"I think you know." Dean says.
"Dean." Sam says.
"Look, I get it." Dean began. "Okay? There are people that I would give anything to see again. But what gives you the right?"
"Dean." I grab onto his arm, trying to get his attention. To stop him from snapping because Dr. Mason was innocent. The alive plants around his house said that much.
"What are you talking about?" Dr. Mason asked.
"What's dead should stay dead!" Dean says.
"What?"
"Stop it!" Sam snapped at his brother.
"What you brought back isn't even your daughter anymore. These things are vicious and violent. They're so nasty, they rot the ground around me. I mean, come on, haven't you seen Pet Semetary." Dean didn't listen to me or Sam and kept talking.
"You're insane." Dr. Mason walked by us, toward the phone.
"Where is she?" Dean asked.
"Get out of my house."
"Dean, come on." I pulled on his arm.
"I know you're hiding him somewhere. Where is she?" Dean grabbed the phone from the man.
"Dean, stop, that's enough." Sam grabbed his arm. "Dean, look. Beautiful, living plants. We're leaving."
"I'm calling the police." Dr. Mason says.
Dean ripped his arm from Sam's grasp and walked out of the door. I followed as Sam tried to do damage control with Dr. Mason.
"Dean." I say, but he kept walking. I had to jog to keep up with him. "Dean, stop it. Talk to me. Look, Dean, come on, just--"
"Not right now, Saige, please." Dean said, surprisingly calm. I had expected him or snap or yell.
"Then when, Dean? Because so far you--"
"What is the matter with you?" Sam cut me off as he reached us.
"Back off." Dean tells him.
"That man is innocent. He didn't deserve that."
"Okay, so she's not here. Maybe he's keeping her somewhere else." Dean shrugged as we walked down the street.
"Stop it." Sam snapped, moving to stand in front of Dean. "That's enough, okay? Enough."
"Sam, I know what I'm doing." Dean agued.
"No, you don't. At all." Sam fought back. "Dean, I don't scare easy, but you're scaring the crap out of me. And Saige."
"Sammy, don't be overdramatic." Dean says, glancing at me. I hoped I didn't let anything slip because I wasn't going to admit my fear to Dean. Because I was scared for him.
"You're lucky this turned out to be a real case." Sam continued. "Because if it wasn't you would have found something else to kill."
"Wha--?" Dean began.
"You're on edge. You're erratic. Except for when you're hunting, 'cause then you're just downright scary. Saige can hardly keep you calm anymore and you've always listened to her." Sam stated, making Dean's eyes turn to me breifly.
"Oh, look, the mailman. Wonder what he's doing." I laughed a little, shifting uncomfortably.
"You're tailspinning, man." Sam continued. "And you refuse to talk about it, and you won't let me or Saige help you."
"I can take care of myself, thanks." Dean says.
"No, you can't." Sam argued. "And you know what? You're the only one who thinks you should have to. You don't have to handle this on your own, Dean. No one can."
"If your bring up dad's death one more--"
"Stop. Dean, it's killing you. Please. We've already lost dad. We've already lost mom. I've lost Jessica. If it weren't for me finding her dumbass, we would've lost Saige too."
"Okay, now you're just holding a grudge." I pointed out, laughing nervously.
"And now me and Saige are gonna lose you too?" Sam asked.
"We better get out of here before the cops come." Dean says, changing the subject. Sam shook his head, sighing. "I hear you. Okay? Yeah, I'm being an ass. And I'm sorry. But right now we've got a freaking zombie running around. We need to figure out how to kill it. Right?"
Sam scoffed. "Our lives are weird, man."
"You're telling me." Dean then set his hand on my waist, leading me down the street. After a few moments, he spoke. "Am I really...? Scaring you?"
I shrugged. "I'm scared of wax figures. Who would listen to me anyway? Am I right?"
___
"You can't just waste it with a headshot?" Dean asked Sam as he walked across the room.
"Dude, you've been watching way too many Romero flicks." Sam replied.
Though I was supposed to be researching zombies and how to kill them, I couldn't help but try to figure out what the hell my dream was about. Who that voice was? What they both wanted.
"You're telling me there's no lore on how to smoke 'em?" Dean crossed the room back to me. "Got anything, Si?"
As he got closer, I quickly snapped my laptop shut. "No." I spit out. "Nothing at all."
He gave me a weird look. "You watching porn?"
I stared at him with a 'really' look. "You're kidding, right?" Though I did know he wasn't serious. He was just being stupid and weird.
"Yeah, I know. You're you and blah, blah, blah." Dean waved a hand at me.
"That is actually exactly what I was going to say." I replied sarcastically as Dean gestured for me to stand up. I did and he took my seat. I rolled my eyes, sitting back down on his lap.
"No, Dean, I'm telling you there's too much lore." Sam spoke up. "I mean, there are a hundred different legends on the walking dead, but they all have different methods." Sam crossed the room and sat across from us. "Some say setting them on fire. One said--where is it? Right here. Feeding their hearts to wild dogs. That's my personal favorite. But who knows what's real and what's myth."
"Is there anything they have in common?" Dean asked, fingers gliding up and down the side of my thigh.
"No. A few said silver might work." Sam shrugged.
"Silver's a start."
"But zombies aren't werewolves." I point out.
"But how are we gonna find Angela?" Sam asked.
"Ask her bestest friend in the whole world." I suggested.
"Figure out who brought her back." Dean added.
"Any idea who?" Sam asked.
"Do you two ding dongs never listen to me?" I asked.
"I think if it's not her dad, like Si said, it might be that guy Neil." Dean shrugged his shoulders. "See? I do listen."
"Oh, wow, congrats."
"Neil?" Sam asked.
"Yep." Dean nodded. "Si."
"How'd you come up with that?" Sam asked as I stood and grabbed the diary.
"Well, you got your journal, I got mine." Dean stated as I sat back down on his lap. I handed him the book. He flipped through the pages. "'Neil's a real shoulder to cry on. He so understands what I'm going through with Matt.' There's more here where that came from. It's got unrequited Ducky love all over it."
"Oh, so probably like you and Saige's diaries before this." Sam teased, gesturing to us.
Dean rolled his eyes.
"But that doesn't mean he brought her back from the dead." Sam continued.
"Hmm. Did I mention that he's professor Mason's TA?" Dean asked. "Has access to all the same books?"
"See, Sammy, we're smart too." I say. "Just because we're not giant college students doesn't mean we can't know things."