#now 13 minutes into ghost stories and he told Chad how he can ‘come back to life’

[bethannangel]

Boone’s comeback to the show is amazing

[noladyme]

Skip To My Lou, My Darling - Chapter 3, Too Perfect I

The road so far…

Deadly nightmares. Immortal countesses. Lulu thought she’d seen it all since she’d first met the Winchester brothers. Extreme circumstances pushed her into the arms of the eldest brother, Dean – and she hasn’t been able to stop thinking of him since. Now back to her every day life of bartending and the occasional visit from a certain angel, what will happen when she finally sees Dean again? Is there still a connection – or was it all in their heads?

Our story continues in season 5

Rated M

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added) @edonaspanca​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​

8 years ago.

Night shift again. Luckily, it’s a slow one tonight. Only a few guests strewn across the place. “Lulu!”, Ricky calls from the kitchen. “Order’s up for 13”. “13 is Janice’s table”, I answer. “She called in sick again”, he shrugs. Dammit. I know it’s because it’s her boyfriend’s home from college. I walk over to the serving hatch; grabbing a large order of bacon, and a slice of cherry pie. Weird order for dinner, but who am I to judge. I’ll gladly throw back some jalapeño poppers at any time of day.

I walk over to table 13 with the order; placing the two plates in front of a dark-haired man, who’s in a deep conversation on his phone. “… no, Dean. Silver. Iron won’t do anything, I told you… yeah…”. I begin to walk away. “Miss?”. I turn around. The man at the table is looking at me. He’s cute, in an older guy kind of way. Much too old for me, but a girl can dream. “Can you top off my coffee?”, he asks, covering the mic on the phone. I smile, and nod; going to get the freshly brewed pot from the machine behind the counter.

I look down at my uniform, cursing myself that I didn’t chose the one that was just a tiny bit shorter, to show off my legs. As I walk back towards the table, I hear the man continuing his conversation. “Well read up!... Yes. Latin… No, I didn’t call him. If he wants to talk, he has my number… Ok. Call me when it’s finished”. He hangs up, as I pour some fresh coffee into his mug. “Kids, right?”, he mutters with a smile, before looking up and meeting my eyes. “Though, you’re probably a bit young to have any of those yourself”. I blush slightly. “Yeah… not really there yet”.

The man gives me a once over. His gaze isn’t leering, but it is appreciative – and I stifle a smile. “You must have someone out there willing to give you a few little ones”, he says. He takes a sip from his coffee. “You in college?”. “Saving up for it”, I smile. “Leave me a nice tip, and I’ll get there even sooner”. He chuckles. His voice is warm, and his caramel eyes glinting with amusement. “Tell you what. Get me another dollop of cream for the pie, and I’ll make that happen”, he says. I wink at him and walk away.

“Are you flirting with Daddy over there?”, Ricky jeers, as I come over to grab some cream. “Serving my way to the top”, I chuckle. “He seems nice. Nothing else”. “Sure thing, Lulu”, Ricky smiles.

I go back to table 13; and put a large dollop of cream on the man’s pie. “There you go, sir. Enjoy”. “Thanks, Lulu”, he smiles. I wrinkle my brows. “Your name tag”, he grins. “Oh!”, I giggle. “Yeah”.

He has a leather-bound journal in front of him. The page is opened to a picture of a pretty blonde woman. “Your wife?”, I ask. He looks up at me with a slight grimace. “Sorry… Not any of my business”. “No, it’s fine… Yeah. My wife”, he mutters. “She’s pretty”, I say. “Must have made those kids of yours some kind of beautiful”. “They’re not half bad”, he chuckles. “Good boys. Don’t see them too often. Work”. “Oh… too bad. They with your wife?”. He shakes his head. “No… she passed some years ago”. I frown. “Sorry to hear that”, I say quietly. “Me too… thanks for the cream”, he says.

That’s my cue to leave. I flash him a bright smile, and saunter off. “Oh, Lulu?”, the man calls after me. “Yes, sir?”, I ask. “Have you heard about those cattle mutilations, out at that farm?”. I frown. “No more than what was in the news… why?”. He shakes his head. “Never mind… Just… if you do hear anything, could you give me a call?”. I blush again. “I don’t have your number, sir”.

He pulls out a note from his pocket, and scribbles something down on it – then hands it to me. It’s a twenty-dollar bill, with a phone number now written at the bottom. “This is way too much, sir!”, I gasp. “Keep it. As a thanks for friendly conversation. And it’s John”, he smiles.

His phone rings, and he picks it up. “Bobby?... Yeah… I’ll be there”. He hangs it up. “Can you pack this to go?”, he says to me in a rushed tone. I run to grab a to-go box; and quickly pack up his food, handing it to him, as he gathers the papers he’s strewn upon the table. “Here you go, John. Have a nice evening”, I smile.

His tense body language relaxes a bit. “I will. Thanks, Lou”. He hands me another twenty. “Keep the change”. I let out a short laugh. “This is still too much”, I say. He tilts his head. “My youngest is in college. I know it’s expensive… Keep it. And take care”.

He puts on his coat, and leaves the diner.

---

Now…

Hurricanes. Successful nuclear tests in North Korea. Terrorists attacks on convents. Swine flu. The world seemed to be coming to an end – and I was wiping down a bar-counter in Denver. “I’m off”, our newest bartender – Pete – called out to me. “That offer of coffee still stands, Lulu”. I smiled. “Thanks, Pete; but I have plans”, I said. “Grab the trash, would you?”. He nodded, and grabbed two large bags; heading towards the back door. He winked at me; and closed the door behind him. Avoiding the dark spot on the floor we hadn’t been able to remove, after my encounter with Erzsebet; I walked over to the door Pete had gone through, and locked it. I didn’t really have plans; but going on a date with a coworker wasn’t high on my list of wants.

I checked my phone. The only message was a picture of Raul and Chad on their honeymoon. The two men had worked fast after Raul had avoided murder charges 6 months earlier. Once Chad had healed from the surgery to get rid of his little extra asset; he’d dropped down on one knee on a busy night at Buddy’s – and with tearstained cheeks, Raul had accepted his proposal. I’d been the maid of honor to both men – dateless, I might add; as the only man I wanted at my side at a romantic ceremony joining two paramours, was somewhere driving across the states, trying to hunt down monsters and ghosts – or stopping Armageddon; I wasn’t sure at this point.

Dean hadn’t been in touch for months. Not in person, anyway. I understood he was busy, but it hurt not to know where he was – and if he was ok.

Arriving at my small studio apartment that night, I brushed my fingers over the carving on my door – sending a warm thought at the two men who’d saved my life twice. Once inside, I got in my comfiest leggings, socks, tank top and cardigan; and went to read my current book – one about witchcraft and hoodoo. It was the middle of the night; but my sleep schedule as a bartender didn’t exactly make me a day person. I began reading from the part I’d gotten to, and sipping at a mug of cocoa.

There was a knock at the door. I glanced at the wall clock. 3 am. Looking through the peephole, I sighed, and slowly opened the door.

“Hello, Lulu”. “Hi, Castiel”, I said quietly. “Thanks for knocking this time”. The angel smiled gently. “Well, last time you were… undressed”. I moved out of the way, so Castiel could step into my apartment. “Yeah. Literally in the shower as well. I would have offered you a towel, but…”. “You were busy punching my face, and putting a knee to my groin”, the angel said. I chuckled.

Closing the door behind the angel, I went to sit on my couch again. Castiel had been coming around every few weeks – just for a few minutes – apparently to check on me. “So, as you can see, I’m alive”, I muttered. “Are they?”. Cass nodded. “They are working on… something”. “Vague as ever”, I smiled sarcastically. “He has my number. He could just call me”.

Castiel frowned. “I’ve come to take you with me…”, he said. I stood up, and held out my hands to stop him. “Whoa! No… Every time you do your… angel teleportation thing on me, I end up in some random place, without my shoes. And it gives me motion sickness”. “I’ve only done it twice; and one of the times, it saved your life”. I sighed. “Yeah, fine… but still. No thank you”. He stepped towards me. “I’m afraid I must insist”, he said. “Why?”, I frowned.

There was another knock at my door. I stepped over to check the peephole; but Cass held out to stop me. The knocking turned in to a pounding. “That’s why”, he said. “They found you”. My eyes widened. “Who?”, I breathed. “Who found me?”.

Castiel put his hand on my shoulder; and we were standing in front of a lit fireplace. My stomach was churning. “Lulu?”, a voice said. With wide eyes, I turned around, and saw Bobby Singer – seated in a wheelchair – looking at me in wonder. “I got her before they took her. You can take it from here”, Castiel said; and was gone. I looked down. “You forgot my shoes again!”, I snarled.

Bobby smiled at me. “How are you, kid?”, he asked. “Very confused”, I admitted. “Yeah, he does that”, Bobby said. “So, do I get a hug?”.

I grinned, and ran over to embrace the man; who – the last time I’d seen him – was standing. “What happened?”, I asked. Bobby shook his head. “Demon…”, he grunted. I laughed. “Demon…”, I said. Bobby raised a brow at me. “Seriously?”. Bobby gave me a crooked smile. “It’s a whole new world, darlin’”. He patted my arm; not able to reach my cheek from the chair. “I’ll have the guys fill you in when they get back”. I swallowed hard. “They’re here?”, I croaked. “About 30 minutes out. Coffee?”. “Please…”, I said, and followed him to the kitchen, grabbing two mugs from a shelf.

Bobby poured us both a mug of coffee, and I went to sit on a couch in the living room/study/something that looked like a place a fortune teller might set up shop. Bobby rolled over to face me. “How have you been?”, he asked. “I heard about what happened in Denver…”. I pulled up the sleeves of my cardigan, and ran my fingers over the slight scars there. “Turns out my boss was really sorry he hadn’t paid for security, and let a deranged serial killer get at his favorite employee; as he called me”, I grinned. “I think he was just worried I’d sue him. But he paid my doctors bill, and for a plastic surgeon to make the scars less visible”. Bobby winced. “Looks like you went through it”, he said. “I’m happy you’re better”. “Yeah”, I smiled. “No permanent damage, save for the occasional person thinking I cut myself on purpose”.

“Bobby!”, a voice called out – a voice I recognized immediately, and made my heart skip a beat. “In here”, Bobby answered. “We got scotch. Liquor store was out of bourbon”, Sam said, as he stepped into the living room. His eyes widened when he saw me; and he ran over to embrace me – lifting me off my feet in a warm hug. I heard the front door close. “Dude, are you gonna make me carry everything?”, Dean growled, and dropped two plastic bags on the kitchen table. Sam put me down. “Dean”, he muttered. “What?”, Dean grunted; and turned around.

His face went through a range of emotions – before, with three long strides; he stepped over to me. Just as I thought he was about to take me in his arms, he pulled out a knife. “Did you check her?”, he growled. “She came in with Cass”, Bobby said. “Did you check her!”, Dean repeated. Sam sighed, and handed me a flask. “Take a sip”, he said. I frowned – taken aback by the cold reception from the man I’d spent months missing. “What is it?”, I asked; looking at the knife in Deans hand. “Holy water. Just drink it”, Sam muttered.

With a cold look at Dean, I grabbed the flask, and drank the liquid inside. Dean looked at me for a few seconds; and seemingly satisfied I wasn’t going to burn up in flames or melt – or whatever it was he’d expected – he put away the knife. “Lulu…”, he muttered. “Cass brought you?”. “Just a little while ago”, I said quietly. “Thanks for the warm welcome, by the way”. Dean clenched his jaw in anger. “Dammit, he wasn’t supposed to bring you here”, he growled. “Maybe he was sensing how grumpy you’ve been”, Bobby grunted in response.

Dean did look extremely grumpy. And tired. “Sorry, Lou… This isn’t a good time”, he said. I made a scoffing laugh. “Well, just call Castiel. I’m sure he can take me back to my apartment”. “No”, he said. “You can’t go back there right now”. “Why?”, I sneered.

Sam cleared his throat. “Angels… and demons… They’re using the people we care about to get to us”. I shook my head in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”. Dean sighed. “We got wind that they were coming to nab you. I asked Cass to bring you somewhere safe”, he said. “Not here”. I shrugged; trying not to seem hurt about Dean’s standoffishness. “So, what happens now?”, I said. “What happens now, is you stay here”, Bobby said. “Bobby!”, Dean snarled.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Keep your pants on, Dean”, he sneered. “And I mean literally. At least until we’ve left the room”. He rolled towards us. “You don’t think we’ve noticed how you’ve been missing this girl?”. Dean met my eyes for a second. “It’s not safe”. “It’s never safe, son”, Bobby said. “But this place is warded better than any other I know. As long as Lulu doesn’t leave, she should be fine. And maybe you can get that stick out of your ass, and be able to do the job”. Dean scoffed. “So, now I can’t do the job?”, he grunted. “Not well”, Sam muttered. “You…”, Dean said; pointing at his brother. “Shut up!”.

I sighed and looked at Sam. “You said you brought alcohol?”, I muttered. “Give it”. Dean shook his head. “No”, he said. “No alcohol. Call Rufus. Have him take her”. “I’m really feeling the romance in the room”, Bobby grunted. “I’m beat. Going to bed”. He rolled out the door, and down the hallway. “And I’m going to go… away from here”, Sam said; almost running for the stairs. Dean and I stood for a moment in silence; before I stepped towards the kitchen. “Well, I’m having a drink”, I said.

Suddenly, his hand was on my wrist, and he pulled me towards him – wrapping me in his arms. I couldn’t fight the urge; and embraced him right back. “Are you ok?”, he breathed. “Yeah… just confused”, I muttered. Dean pulled back a bit, and looks me in the eyes. “You’re here… I should have… I don’t know what to say”.

“Try an I’m sorry!”, Bobby called from down the hall.

Dean looked towards the hallway, and frowned. “I’m sorry”, he muttered. “I know that’s probably not the welcome you had expected”. “I don’t know…”, I grunted. “It’s not the first time you pulled a knife on me”. “Yeah… sorry. Again”. I sighed. “Can open a window, and let in some air? This place smells like old farts”. He smiled slightly. “Hex bags. We made some earlier. The smell goes away after a while… How have you been?”, he asked. “Fine… I guess. It took a while to heal properly since… last time”, I said. Dean frowned. “But you’re better. Right?”. I nodded. “I’m… living. Moving on”. “Good”, he said. “That’s… good. That you’re moving on, I mean”.

He cleared his throat, and let go of me. The separation was almost painful. “Thanks for checking in, by the way…”, I said. “Castiel’s been a real hoot”. Dean didn’t meet my eyes. “I should have called”. “Yeah, you should have”, I muttered. “You didn’t call either…”, he said; a slight accusation in his voice. I looked at him in indignation. “You told me you were going out to stop the devil”, I said. “I didn’t figure I should be the one to check in”.

I sat back down on the couch and yawned. “Let me go put away the groceries, and I’ll show you where to sleep afterwards”, he said. “Sounds good”, I said quietly. I pulled my legs up under me, and leant my head against the armrest. The smell of the hex bags had dulled; and I now noticed another scent – one of gunpowder, wood and metal. The hunter smell, I thought to myself. My eyes began drooping, and the last thing I noticed was a soft kiss to my temple, and a blanket being tucked around me.

“Goodnight, Lou”, Dean whispered.

---

The sun hitting my face woke me up. “Mornin’ kid”, Bobby muttered from his table. “Fresh coffee on the pot”. “Thanks”, I rasped. I got off the couch, and stretched. “Where are the guys?”, I asked. “Checking on a lead”, Bobby grunted. “Grab me a cup?”.

I went into the kitchen, and filled two mugs with coffee; bringing one over to the desk. “Demon stuff?”, I asked. Bobby shook his head. “Ghost”, he said. “Yankton…”. I frowned. “Yankton… I’m in South Dakota?”, I asked. “Yeah… you’re about 600 miles from home”, he said. “Well, that’s just great”, I muttered. “And this is your place?”. “Singer Scrap”, he nodded. “Good cover”. A scrapyard owner. I knew it, I smiled to myself.

I looked over the many books and papers strewn about the room. A row of phones were hanging on the wall; each with a sticker on it, letting Bobby know what persona he’d need to take on when he picked up. The was an old cookie-tin filled with different fake id’s – FBI, Wild Life Service, Sheriff’s badges; the list went on.

“You have a pretty bad-ass setup here, Bobby”, I said. “Also 100% illegal I’m guessing”. “This job isn’t exactly easy to do if you follow the rules”, Bobby said. I sighed. “Is there anything I can help with?”, I asked. “What, are you bored?”, Bobby smiled. “Yes”, I nodded. “You can make lunch; it’s almost noon”, he said. “I don’t cook… but I know how to order a pizza”. Bobby frowned. “I’ll call the boys, have them bring something back”. I shrugged.

Bobby narrowed his eyes at me. “Did you… uhm… kiss and make up last night?”, he muttered. I chewed my lip. “Not exactly… He seemed preoccupied”, I said. Bobby chuckled. “That’s Dean for you”, he said. “Always so busy trying to save everyone else, he doesn’t see when his own salvation is staring him right in the face”. “I don’t know if I’m a salvation, exactly”, I said. “I’m a bartender from Denver with a teaching degree”. “Maybe you can teach him some manners”, Bobby grunted and returned to his document. “Grab me that magnifying glass over there”, he said, and pointed towards the coffee table.

I handed him the magnifier, and picked up an amulet that caught my eye. It was almost glowing in the sunlight. “Put that down”, Bobby yelled. I almost jumped, and dropped the chain to the table. “Sorry”, he muttered. “I haven’t been able to break the curse on it yet… and I’m pretty sure you’d be a lot less pretty with an extra nose stuck to your chin”. “It’s cursed?”, I asked. “Maybe you should lock it up somewhere”. “Tried that”, he grunted. “It reappears there every time I do”. I studied the amulet closer. “Hoodoo, right?”, I muttered. Bobby looked at me. “Is it?”, he asked. “I think so… It looks like a sigil I saw once, in a book”, I said. Maybe cover it in goofer dust, and bury it in an old grave…”. I met his incredulous eyes, and blushed. “Or, something else. I don’t know”.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “What do you make of this?”, he asked, and pushed an old newspaper clipping across the table. I read through the text. “Another strange case of a dead body in Yankton this month, when Thomas Clayton was found near Yankton Municipal Cemetary – his neck broken; and his lower body buried into the ground. He leaves behind a wife and two children…”. “Sounds like a myling”, I muttered. Bobby frowned. “How’d you know about those?”, he asked. “I read… a lot”, I replied. He looked at me disbelievingly. “You call studying Scandinavian ghosts leisurely reading?”. “I was almost killed by two supernatural beings”, I shrugged. “Thought I’d study up in case anything happened again”. “Huh…”, Bobby said. “So, you think it’s a myling”. “I’m no pro, so I wouldn’t know for sure”, I said. “But the half-buried thing? And just outside a cemetery… More like he was forced to carry a ghost on his back; but didn’t make it to hallowed ground”. The corner of Bobby’s lip raised in a crooked smile. “But you already knew that”. “Was beginning to come to that theory myself”, he said. “You have some knowledge in that head of yours, kid”. I blushed again.

There was a knock at the door. I looked through the kitchen window. Outside stood a darkhaired policewoman. “It’s the cops”, I muttered. “Crap”, Bobby groaned. “Woman? Looks like she eats nails for breakfast?”. I looked again. “Yup…”. Bobby began rolling away from the view of the windows. “I’m not here”, he said. I shook my head. “Fine, I’ll talk to her”, I said, and walked to the front door, opening it.

“Hello”, I smiled at the woman. She looked mistrustingly at me. “Miss… I’m sheriff Mills. Is Bobby Singer in?”. I shook my head. “He’s out…”. “Out cold?”, she grunted. “Bobby! Roll your ass out here”.

Bobby appeared behind me. “Sheriff…”, he grunted. “What did I do this time?”. The sheriff sighed. “Your neighbors have been reporting strange smells from your house”. “Stranger than usual? This is a scrap yard, sheriff”, I smiled. She narrowed her eyes at me. “And you are?”. I thought fast. “Ann Wilson”, I said brightly; and reached out my hand to shake hers. “My niece”, Bobby said. “She’s staying with me to help out since my accident”. “All right…”, the sheriff said. “If you say so”.

I cleared my throat. “You were saying? About strange smells…”. “Yes”, the sheriff said. “You can’t be polluting the air with methane gas, Bobby. Your neighbors say the smell was so rancid, their eyes watered”. Bobby sighed. “Look, my nearest neighbor is 3 miles away. If any of them have been reporting any smells, it means they’ve been trespassing – and I’d be in my right to shoot them”. The sheriff clenched her jaw. “With what weapon? I don’t believe you have a license”. “I do”, I said. She lifted her brows. “Can I see it?”. I smiled. “I never mentioned a gun, or using one for that matter. So, you don’t need to”. She stifled a smile. Under different circumstances, I might have liked her. “If there’s nothing else, uncle Bobby needs to have his lunch now”.

“All right”, sheriff Mills said. “Just, keep down the stench, all right?”. “Absolutely”, I smiled. “Goodbye, sheriff”. She walked off the porch, and got in her car. I waved as she drove away. I turned to look at Bobby. “That was fun!”, I grinned. “Yeah, a real giggle of a time”, Bobby grunted, and went back into the living room.

One of the phones rang – one labeled CDC. Bobby picked it up. “Fisher here… Yes, he’s one of mine. He in some kind of trouble?... That’s ridiculous, son… No, you listen to me. Let him finish his job… Put him on”. I heard him mutter idjit below his breath. “Garth? You moron. You told them it was a strain of the plague?... Yeah… Give him back to me”. There was a pause. “Officer. Agent Fitzgerald is right. Let him look at the autopsy report… Thank you. Bye”. He hung up. “Stupid son of a bitch”. I chuckled.

Bobby began rolling towards his desk, when another phone rang – the one labeled FBI. I looked at him pleadingly. “Be my guest…”, he grunted. I picked it up.

“Nicks here”, I said. “Yes, hello ma’am. This is detective Alan Jackson from the Yankton PD”, a tired voice said. “I have two men here claiming to be FBI…”. My eyes lit up. “Let me guess. One is a 6’3 puppy, and the other looks like he’d flirt with your daughter right in front of you, and not be ashamed of it?”. “That sounds about right”, the man muttered. “Yeah, those are mine”, I said. “What’s the problem?”. “They want to examine the body of…”. “Thomas Clayton?”, I asked. “Yes…”, the man said. “And what seems to be the problem?”, I asked. “Well they don’t have the right papers to begin with”, he answered. “The FBI rolls into town, asking to oversee a murder-case, and you refuse them?”, I said. “Won’t look good on your yearly report, detective Jackson”. “Ma’am…”, the man began. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Put me on with your captain”. Bobby’s eyes widened, and he shook his head fervently. “Ma’am, I’m sure that won’t be necessary…”, the detective muttered. I scoffed. “No? Well, you’re not being very forthcoming with my men…”. “I’ll let them look, ma’am. Right away”. “Thank you. Please put the pretty one on”, I said. “Your boss wants you”, the man muttered, and I heard the phone change hands. “Hello?”, I heard Deans voice. “Speaker?”, I asked. “No”, he grunted. “Good. Bring back lunch. Bobby’s hungry”, I said. “Yes, ma’am”, Dean grunted, and hung up.

I put the phone back on its hook. “That was even more fun”, I grinned. Bobby chuckled. “You could come in handy, Lulu”, he smiled. “Good job”. “Thanks”, I said. “Bobby… you wouldn’t happen to have some shoes laying around I could use?”.

---

A few hours later Dean and Sam came back from Yankton. Dean looked like a thundercloud.

“What the hell, Bobby?”, he growled. “You have Lulu doing jobs now?”. “Just this one”, he smiled. “And she’s done a fine job, as well”. Dean stepped towards me with and gave me a searing look. “You don’t ever do that again!”, he roared. “Why?”, I frowned. “You could have had us thrown in jail!”, he said. “Horse crap”, I said. “You were fine”.

Sam put down some cardboard boxes on the coffee table. “We brought pizza”, he said. Bobby groaned. “We were in a rush”, Sam muttered. I grabbed a slice, and sat down on the couch; putting my feet on the table. Dean looked at me with hard eyes. “Comfy?”, he grunted. “Very”, I smiled. He cursed below his breath.

“Lulu’s got a theory on the ghost”, Bobby said. Sam looked at me with pleased surprise. “Really?”, he asked. “Tell us”. “A myling”, I said. “An unwanted child, killed by its parents; and buried in non-consecrated ground”. Dean frowned. I handed him a slice of pizza, and he accepted it without thanks. “A mew-what?”, he asked. “Myling”, Bobby said. “Tell ‘em, Lulu”.

I took a bite, and chewed enthusiastically. “It crawls onto people’s backs; wanting them to bring it to consecrated ground to rest”, I said; mouth full. “Usually, the weight of it on the victims back will make him or her sink into the ground before they make it all the way. The ghost will be pissed, and kill them – strangling them or breaking their necks”. “How do you know this stuff?”, Sam smiled. “She reads… a lot…”, Bobby muttered.

Dean looked at Bobby’s desk. “Where’s the cursed amulet?”, he grunted. “Covered it in goofer dust, and buried it out back with my old dog”, Bobby said. “Well, Lulu did”. I smiled, and wiggled my feet – on which I was wearing a pair of old loafers Bobby’s wife had used when she was alive.

“You shouldn’t be meddling with any of this”, Dean growled. I shrugged. “Your pet angel kidnapped me, and brought me 600 miles away; without my shoes or my phone. Might as well keep busy”. “Don’t you need to go to work?”, Dean grunted. “Yeah, like 3 hours ago”, I admitted. “I’m probably fired”. Dean frowned. “And you don’t care?” I looked at him exasperatedly. “Of course I care, Dean. My whole life is in Denver”, I sneered. “But you’re also telling me that angels and demons are out to kill me. Being there right now would just bring people in danger. I’m staying away… To keep them safe”.

Dean raised a brow at me. I realized then that’s what he had been doing. In his own way. “I called Cass. He’s gonna take you somewhere safe”, he said. I frowned. “Bobby said…”. “You’re leaving, Lou”, he said. “That’s final”.

“She can’t…”, Castiel – who’d appeared from nowhere – said. “Cass!”, Dean growled. “Get her out of here!” “There’s no where I can take her”, the angel replied. “You wanted her safe. She is safe here”. “Hardly”, Dean said. “We’re up to our necks on this case, and Ironside over there can’t even get off his porch on his own”. He gestured towards Bobby.

Bobby frowned at him. “Where do you want her to go, son?”, he asked. “Rufus is buried in vamps in Wichita, Martin’s in the psych ward… Ellen and Jo? That’s the only people I’d trust her to be safe enough with; and they’re dead!”. Darkness ghosted Deans face. “Lulu is safest here, Dean”, Sam said.

Dean shook his head, and looked everywhere but at me. “If you didn’t come to take her away, why the hell are you here, Cass?”, he snarled. “To give you this”, Castiel said. He pulled out a knife I recognized as being an angel sword. “We already have one of those”, Sam said. Cas shook his head. “It’s not for you, it’s for her”.

Castiel went to hand me the knife. Dean stepped between us. “Whoa… no, no, no. That’s not happening”. “Excuse me?”, I frowned. He looked at me indignantly. “You’re not gonna be walking around with a heavenly weapon in your purse”, he said.

I put down my pizza, and stood up – fully ready to smack him across the face. “I’m a grown ass woman, Dean. I can make my own decisions”. “Not this one”, he grunted. “You can’t even shoot a gun”. “I can shoot a damn gun; I told you!”. “And fight with an angel sword?”, he asked indignantly.

He took the sword from Castiel. “I’m keeping this. Having two is always handy”. “Dean, Lulu needs to be able to protect herself from my brothers”, Castiel said. “No”, Dean said. I stepped up to him; and looked him square in the face. “Give me my sword, Dean…”, I snarled. “Take it”, he smiled; and held the sword over his head – knowing full well I wouldn’t jump for it like some child. I looked at him with sad eyes. “I really don’t want to do this…”, I muttered. Dean chuckled.

I walked behind him, pretending to give up. “Good call, sweetheart”, he muttered. Quickly setting my foot between his own from behind, my knee between his; I crouched, leant forward, snaked my arm across his torso – and flipped him backward over my thigh – making him land with a bang on his back. “Ow…”, he gasped. “Roller derby”, I growled; and snatched the sword from him. “Thanks, Castiel”, I muttered.

The three men still standing, all looked at me in surprise. Sam bit his lips to stop from laughing. “Not funny, Sam!”, Dean growled from the floor. “Dude, she just railed your ass!”, his brother grinned.

Dean got on his feet, and stretched his back. “Fine!”, he roared. “Take the damn sword… That was cheating, though”. “Might have earnt me a penalty back in the day; but still my favorite move”, I muttered. “You’re just pissed you got beaten by a girl”. “That has nothing to do with it”, he frowned. “Women can fight…”. “I just can’t, is that it?”. He shook his head in indignation. “We’ll talk about this later”, he grunted coldly. “We have a case to get back to”. I smiled. “No, Lou. We have a case. You don’t”. I rolled my eyes. “Roll your eyes all you want, sugar. That’s what’s happening”.

I went into the kitchen, and grabbed a beer from the fridge – opening it, and taking a large sip. Castiel walked over to join me. “I take it you haven’t had intercourse yet”, he muttered. I grimaced at him. “Cass. Stay out of my sex-life. Ok?”. He nodded, looking almost embarrassed. “I just meant – seeing as Dean is still in a bad mood – you must not have…”. “Stop”, I said, and held out a hand at him. “You’ve done plenty of damage as it is”. “I apologize for that. It wasn’t my intention”. I sighed. “I know… you were just trying to help”. I looked up at him. “Look, Cass…”. He was gone.

I couldn’t help but feel bad about how I’d spoken to him. He was a friend – not just to Dean and Sam – but also to me.

---

The three hunters spent the next hours researching mylings; and it seemed Dean had to relent and agree that I had been right.

“So how do we get rid of it”, he grunted. I was seated on a kitchen chair, pretending to read a book on the with trials of Salem. “Salt and burn, like every other spirit”, Sam offered. “Yeah, except we have no idea where the kid is buried”, Dean said. “Bobby? Any ideas?”.

The elder hunter looked towards me. “She knows more about them than any of us…”, he muttered. “Yeah, well; she’s not a hunter”, Dean grunted. “Just, give it a rest, Dean…”, Sam sighed. “Get over yourself, and let Lulu help”. Dean rolled his eyes. “Roll your eyes all you want, sugar…”, I sneered. “Just… help us out here, kid”, Bobby said.

I stood up, and walked over to the desk. “Putting the spirit to rest by salting and burning sound good enough. But you could also just give it what it wants”. Sam narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean? Carry it to the graveyard”. “I don’t think you need to throw yourself into the fire this time, Sam”, I smiled; remembering how he’d almost let himself get killed by the maren, who had been haunting my dreams when we first met. “Find it’s parents…”. “They’re probably dead too…”, Bobby said. I shrugged. “Can’t you, like… summon them?”, I asked.

Dean scoffed, and chuckled. “Great idea; except that’s impossible”. “It’s not…”, Bobby said. “There are ways”. “Of course there are…”, Dean snarled. “Why don’t you three do this job, and I’ll go hit a bar. Don’t seem like you need me here anyway”. “Dean…”, Sam began. “No, really; Sammy. Go ahead. Looks like Lou’s got this one”, Dean said. He grabbed his jacket, and left the house.

“I’ll go talk to him”, Sam muttered. “No, I will”, I said. “This is on me”. Sam nodded, and I went out the front door.

---

[stillgeekingout]

surprise! it’s chapter 13 of the ultimate aaron milverton crossover fic! I may have stopped my routine but I will never give up on my greatest work

previous:  1 here, 2 here, 3 here, 4 here, 5 here, 6 here, 7 here, 8 here, 9 here, 10 here, 11 here, 12 here

------

A week later, Rachel was once again visited at work. But this time, it wasn’t Aaron visiting.

“Blair? How did you-- what are you doing here?” Blair had appeared-- literally appeared-- in the middle of the store. Luckily, Rachel’s manager was in the back as usual and no other customers were around. She had believed Zoe about Blair and Alex being gods, but the teleportation still threw her off guard.

Rachel couldn’t imagine why Blair would show up out of the blue. She hadn’t gotten the impression that Blair had particularly liked her on their last encounters.

“I need to speak with you,” said Blair by way of greeting. “But first, I am going to eat some froyo.”

And with that, she began loading a cup, leaving Rachel trying and failing to think of a response. (Blair really loved froyo, according to Zoe. They had been texting constantly for a week and a lot of Zoe’s end was just stories about Alex and Blair, her coworkers, and her new friend Violet. Rachel didn’t mind. She thought it was nice how much Zoe cared about her friends.)

Blair ate her froyo in silence, filled and ate a second cup, and finally addressed Rachel. “I came to offer a proposition.”

“Ok…” She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but that wasn’t it. “What kind of proposition?”

“Well, Zoe won’t stop talking about you, and there’s all that mortal nonsense about physical distance--”

“Wait, she talks about me?” Were Alex and Blair hearing about her the way she heard about them? She hadn’t realized she would like the idea as much as she did. It felt nice to be among the people Zoe cared enough to talk about.

“When will you humans learn not to interrupt the divine when we’re speaking? Yes, I just said that she talks about you. Now, as I was saying--”

“What does she say?” She wasn’t sure what she wanted Zoe to be saying.

“You’re making me regret my proposition before I even make it.”

“Sorry, go on.”

Blair took a deep breath, eyeing Rachel as if to make sure she wouldn’t cut her off this time. “Zoe is the best human I know,” she said matter-of-factly, “and she clearly thinks highly of you. And not having you around is making her upset. My proposition is this: one of Zoe’s human friends has informed me that there is a position open at the Smithsonian, and--”

Rachel caught on to what Blair was trying to say. “Whoa, wait, I can’t move to DC!”

Blair huffed at being interrupted again. “Why not?”

“Well, my parents are here,” she said, though she had been eager to leave her parents’ house for months. “And I just met Zoe, I’m not about to Rebecca Bunch myself at her--”

“I do not know what that means.”

“It’s from a TV show.”

“Oh, one of those.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rachel said, not wanting to anger Blair too much. Zoe had said she didn’t really lash out anymore, but Rachel didn’t want to push it. “The point is, I can’t move halfway up the country for a girl I barely know anything about.”

“Well that’s easy, I can tell you about her. What do you want to know?”

“That’s… nice of you, but not what I meant.”

“I don’t understand what the problem is. I will provide housing for you if necessary. Although I’m sure that you don’t have issues obtaining human currency, considering that you work in such an esteemed field as frozen yogurt distribution.” She gestured around at the store. Rachel laughed. Blair stared at her as if she didn’t understand the joke.

“Listen, Blair, this is really nice of you,” Rachel said, “but I just can’t. It’s too much to process right now.”

“Very well. I will return when you’ve had time to consider.”

“That’s not what I m--”

But Blair was already gone, vanished into thin air.

------

Aaron couldn’t decide what was worse: when he had been agonizing over Chad not liking him back, or his newfound agonizing over being in a long distance relationship.

That was a total lie-- as terrible as long distance was, he definitely preferred it to his previous situation. He and Chad talked constantly. They skyped every night. Aaron still got excited every time he saw Chad’s face pop up on his screen. And even though Chad was far away, he was still undisputably Aaron’s. That feeling alone was worth the pain of separation.

For all intents and purposes, he was very, very happy. But Chad’s next visit couldn’t come soon enough.

------

How was christmas shopping with violet?

Rachel sent the text, then flopped down on her bed. She and Zoe had been texting for several weeks. It was comfortable, easy. Rachel no longer felt nervous to reply to every text. She still didn’t know where she stood on the romantic front, but Zoe hadn’t mentioned anything about it. For now, it was nice having a friend to talk to.

Two friends, actually. She and Aaron had seen each other several more times. She had come close a few times to telling him the truth about everything, but it was easier just to console him about Chad. (Who, by the way, was visiting for New Year’s. Rachel got an update on the countdown every time she and Aaron talked.)

Her phone buzzed.

Suuuuuper weird lol i finally met her infamous detective friend bc we stopped by their office

???

Oh did i not tell you about that? it’s somebody she knows from college, they have like a consulting business or idk. but they kept asking me a million questions about my family and if i had any relatives my age in georgia

Weird, why?

apparently i look like some dead drug lord??? Violet has told me this before but she tells me a lot of weird stuff, i try not to ask too many questions tbh.

your roommates are gods, aren’t you beyond ruling out weird stuff lol

Blair had stopped by the store earlier that day, in fact. It was her third time, and luckily Rachel had finally convinced her to use the front door in case there were other people around.

“The position at the Smithsonian was filled,” she’d said. “But I’m still prepared to find you something.” Rachel had insisted that it was still too soon and too drastic. Blair had stuck around to eat 4 or 5 cups of froyo, and they had actually talked a little bit. It was nice, in a weird way.

I’m used to my own weird by now hahaha, Zoe’s text said. actually though sherlock did look kinda familiar to me too so probably we met at some point and now she’s mixed me up with this other girl

Wait omg sherlock???

yeah... weird name i know

no omg I think you might have met aaron’s ex

you sure??

How many people do you know named sherlock…

wtf……. small world

Did you catch a last name? I’ll fb stalk. She wondered if Aaron’s ex was cute. They seemed to have about the same taste in terrible women.

homes? i think? something like that

Sure enough, “Sherlock Holmes” was the first result on facebook. Lives in DC, went to SACU. So this was the girl who had broken Aaron’s heart. Her profile picture was hard to see, so Rachel clicked to make it bigger… and almost dropped her phone.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands shook. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and then looked back at her phone cautiously, hoping she had been imagining things. But no, the uncanny resemblance was still there.

“Hamlet!” she shouted to her empty bedroom. “If you’re doing this, it’s not funny, okay? Leave me alone!”

Her phone buzzed.

so, any conclusion? same sherlock?

Then, a few seconds later: omg does this mean violet and aaron went to the same college

Rachel steadied herself. She couldn’t do this right now. She couldn’t respond to Zoe like everything was normal. Since the day they met, Zoe had always been surrounded by things that reminded her of the life she was trying so hard to forget. Blair looking like Laura. Zoe driving Marci’s car. But this… this felt more deliberate than coincidental.

Hey I’ll talk to you later ok? She managed to send the text to Zoe, then put her phone down. What now? Was this Hamlet’s ghost messing with her? She wouldn’t, right? Rachel couldn’t bring herself to believe that Hamlet would intentionally hurt her.

She sat on her bed, taking deep breaths. After a few minutes with no sign of anything out of the ordinary, she picked her phone back up and called Aaron.

He answered almost immediately. “Rachel!!! What’s up?”

“Hey, are you busy?” she asked, trying to match his enthusiasm and failing miserably. “Can I ask you something weird?”

“Um...?”

“Just-- are you around people?” Her voice was shaking. “I don’t want to bring this up if you’re not in private.”

“No, I’m not around people,” he said cautiously. “Rachel, are you ok? You sound weird.”

“I think so. I mean, I’m not in danger. Um. I hate to ask you this, but can I talk to you about Sherlock?” Now he must be really confused.

“What about Sherlock? Did she try to contact you?” If Aaron sounded concerned before, now he really did.

“No! She didn’t. It’s complicated. Um, this is going to sound weird, but can you tell me what she looks like?”

“Short brown hair, glasses, really pale, kinda tall…” So the picture was probably real. Maybe she was imagining the similarities to Hamlet. A lot of people fit that description. She looked at the picture again, and-- nope, definitely still looked like a less goth Hamlet.

“And um, she lived at SACU full time, right? She didn’t like pop back and forth from Orlando?” She couldn’t imagine that her former best friend and roommate led some sort of secret double life in Middle-of-Nowhere, Georgia. But she just had to check.

“I mean, she was secretive, but I highly doubt it… hey, can you tell me what’s going on now?”

“I…” She hadn’t really thought far enough ahead to come up with an explanation. “So um. It turns out Zoe’s friends in DC know Sherlock.”

She heard Aaron sigh. “She really is going to haunt me forever, isn’t she?” he muttered.

He meant ‘haunt’ as a figure of speech, Rachel told herself. There’s no way Sherlock is ALSO a ghost. Out loud, she said, “Um, so I looked her up because I was curious and I wanted to make sure it was the same Sherlock. That’s all.” Now that she was fairly convinced that Sherlock was actually just a person who looked a lot like Hamlet, and there was nothing supernatural going on, she didn’t want to go into more detail. Maybe doppelgangers were just much more common than she previously realized. She did have a cousin who looked a lot like her.

“And what were you saying about Orlando?” Aaron asked.

“Oh, uh, nothing.” Very convincing.

“Rachel. Are you sure you’re ok?”

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t tell Aaron, and she definitely couldn’t tell him over the phone. “I’m fine,” she said, trying to steady her voice. “I’ll explain later. It’s not a big deal.”

“Ok…”

“I promise. I’m ok. I’ll talk to you later, ok? Thanks for answering.”

“You’re welcome…” He still sounded skeptical. She hung up.  

She got on her computer and googled Sherlock Holmes, only to find out that her (their?) friend had a vlog. Because of course. She clicked through a few videos, but the similarities to Hamlet were too disturbing. Right down to the ace ring.

Knowing how much of a bad idea it was, she pulled up Hamlet’s channel. (Her therapist always told her not to watch the videos, and she usually agreed. But then, it would be much easier not to if she could just delete them. Her therapist never understood why she didn’t, and never seemed to believe that she physically couldn’t.) After two or three videos, she managed to close the tab. She lay down on her bed and cried.

That night, she dreamed of Hamlet dying in her arms.

------

Rachel’s phone rang. It was Zoe.

She let it go to voicemail.

She felt guilty for ignoring Zoe the past several days, but she didn’t know how to talk to her. With all of her secrets back to the forefront of her mind, it seemed impossible to be casual. Eventually, Zoe was bound to ask her more things about her past. Or, you know, what her last name was. Somehow or other, Rachel knew she would find the videos and see everything. Which left her with two options: tell Zoe everything before that could happen, or ignore it and hope it would go away. And she hated confrontation.

Her phone buzzed with a voicemail notification. It occurred to her that she and Zoe had never actually talked on the phone, only texted. Which meant she hadn’t heard Zoe’s actual voice since Thanksgiving weekend. She figured she should listen to the voicemail. It had to be something serious if Zoe was going to the trouble of actually calling.

“Hi, ok, so I really need you to call me. I haven’t heard from you in days and I don’t know what the explanation is but I need to know that you’re ok and you didn’t have some kind of emergency. And I really hope you’re safe and fine and you don’t have a family member in the hospital or something. Please call me if you get the chance so I know if you’re ok. Bye, I love y-- I MEAN! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that, I’m so used to saying that to my mom and friends and stuff… not that we’re not friends! I just. And this is making it worse, I’m sorry, I lo--NO. Gods. Ok. Call me. Bye.”

Rachel played the message again. She felt terrible for making Zoe nervous about her wellbeing.

I got your message, she texted. Sorry I’ve been MIA. I’m ok… it’s hard to explain.

Her phone rang again. This time, she answered it.

“Hello?”

“Ok, seriously, what the hell?”

“What?” After the message she’d just heard, she hadn’t expected Zoe to sound so angry.

“You can’t just disappear off the face of the earth like that,” Zoe said. “I get that like, things happen and people get busy but you can’t go from texting every day to not saying anything for almost a week and not expect me to get worried! I’ve been freaking out!”

“I’m really sorry, I--”

“Listen, if you don’t want to talk to me anymore, can you at least have the courtesy to tell me? I’m not going to waste my time if you don’t want to be friends but it’s really not cool to just ghost me like that.” Trust me, Rachel thought, I’ve seen ghosting, and this isn’t it.

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you,” Rachel said.

“Then what?” Zoe still sounded angry. “Because honestly I’ve been wracking my brain for days and if you don’t have an emergency and you’re not avoiding me then I’m really confused as to why you can’t just respond to a simple text, even to say you’re too busy to talk.”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Rachel said. She should have known confrontation would come for her one way or another. “I’m… I’m not exactly what you think I am, Zoe.”

“My best friends are gods,” Zoe said. “Try me.”

Rachel sighed. “I wasn’t being totally honest about being ok,” she said. “I mean, I’m fine, I’m safe, I don’t want you to worry about me. But I have these... ghosts, I guess. Of my past. And sometimes it’s too much.”

“Rachel, I’m here for you,” Zoe said, no longer sounding angry. “We’re friends now, ok? You can tell me.”

“That’s the thing, I really can’t tell you.” Maybe she didn’t have to. Maybe Zoe would understand anyway.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… ok, so some things happened in my life that… really kind of messed me up. And it was really bad for a long time. I’m mostly fine now, but sometimes I just get reminded and that’s what happened the other day and I just… I couldn’t…” She trailed off.

“Hey, if you’re dealing with something, you can just tell me that, okay? You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. I’m here for you either way.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said. “I’m just not ready to talk about it yet. Maybe someday I’ll tell you.”

“In the meantime, tell those ghosts I said to leave you alone,” Zoe said. It took Rachel a second to remember she had used ghosts as a metaphor. “And if you need space, I’m cool with that too. But do me a favor and tell me that next time, ok?”

“Ok. Sorry I worried you.”

“I’m just glad you’re ok,” Zoe said. “And that you still want to be my friend.”

“Of course I do!” Rachel said. “You and Aaron are the first people in a long time I feel comfortable being friends with.”

Zoe laughed. “Wow, so glad to be in an exclusive club with Aaron,” she said.

“Seriously! He’s a great guy,” Rachel said. “Over the top, sure, but really genuine.”

“Oh, speaking of Aaron, did you ever find out if--”

“Hey!” Rachel cut her off. “Um. Remember the thing I said before, about not being able to explain? That again, but can we not talk about Sherlock? I don’t know how to tell you why, but I just really don’t want to.”

“Okay…” Zoe sounded confused. Of course she did. Nothing Rachel was saying made sense.

“Oh and hey, Zoe?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for reaching out to me,” Rachel said. “That was a really thoughtful voicemail, and um, I know you said it on accident but I think it’s perfectly fine to tell your friends you love them.”

“Oh my gods,” Zoe groaned. “That was so embarrassing…”

“No, I thought it was sweet!”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not. It means a lot to me,” Rachel insisted.

“Well um. You’re welcome, I guess.” There was a long moment of silence, then Zoe broke it. “So um, do you mind hearing a story about Violet? Will that bother you?”

“I would love to hear a story about Violet,” Rachel said. Zoe was so considerate. Why had Rachel been nervous to talk to her again?

Zoe launched into her story, and Rachel forgot everything she had been worried about. She forgot all the trouble about a potential relationship and her past and Blair coming to pester her about moving and just thought about Zoe, and how nice it was to have a supportive friend to talk to and to hear stories from.

“...so now she’s got a whole group of people convinced, and I don’t even know how to start undoing all that damage,” Zoe wrapped up. “Blair thinks it’s hilarious, though, so at least that.”

“That’s great,” Rachel said. “Um, I should go actually. I think my parents wanted to go out to dinner or something.”

“Ok,” Zoe said. “Well it was nice actually talking to you.”

“Yeah! We should do it again. At some point. If you want.”

“I’d like that.” She could hear Zoe smiling through the phone.

“Well, goodnight. I love you.”

“Oh my gods, stop it,” Zoe said. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

Rachel had said it as a joke, but she realized that no matter how she felt about romance or relationships or long distance or whatever else, she did love having Zoe as a person in her life. And that had to be enough justification, right? But she didn’t say any of that-- because she had a feeling, or maybe a hope, that Zoe already knew. Instead she just said, “Nope!”

“Love you too,” Zoe said, as if to confirm everything Rachel hadn’t said. “Bye.” She hung up.

With just one phone call, Rachel felt that warm feeling again. Like she did at the Goodwill buying the jackets. And in the back of Zoe’s van on the way to Miami. And on the beach at sunrise.

For a second, she almost considered Blair’s proposition.

------

The next time Blair showed up at the store, she didn’t even ask about Rachel moving. She just went straight for froyo and conversation. Rachel had a sneaking suspicion that Blair was actually starting to like talking to her. (She did know a lot about mythology, even if a lot of that came from Percy Jackson.)

“So Blair,” Rachel said, after they had been talking for a little while. “You’re like an all powerful goddess, right?”

Blair narrowed her eyes. “Of course…”

“How much control do all-powerful goddesses have over the internet?”

“That’s absurd. As much as we want.”

“I wasn’t doubting you!” Rachel assured her. “Just asking.”

“Well, are you ‘just asking’ for your own amusement, or did you need something from me?” Blair looked at her expectantly. Rachel took a deep breath. The idea had come to her suddenly, and she thought it just might work. A way to get one step farther away from her past.

“Do you think you could delete some videos for me?”