On Shadow.

[realmrsreynolds]

Sallie's accustomed by this point in her career in Milliways with bringing people through to her house.

Sometimes however, she does forget to mention that her door leads to the back end of her walk-in pantry.

"Mind the rice bags, please," Sallie throws out behind her. "I haven't had a chance to put them away yet."

'Them', here, meaning 'a stack of burlap bags waist high that restricts the narrow walkway of actual living space to about half of its original width'.

Sallie's concise like that; even she has issues navigating it all.

Comments

[realmrsreynolds]

Sallie stares at the scalpels on the table, then up to Dean and over to Sam each in turn.

"Wouldn't you rather use the pie dish instead? Got a nice weight to it."

Even with the bravado, her eyes go back to the scalpels as if to make sure they don't run off and plot against her.

[gavemea_45]

"We're not gonna hurt you."

It sounds as though it's coming through gritted teeth.

"That is, we're not gonna hurt Sallie. Whatever you are -- that's a different story."

Sam's digging in his satchel, looking for what he needs. He's not looking at her.

[hopeitsworthit]

"You," Dean says, because somebody's got to, "You, we're just gonna kill."

So she knows.

[realmrsreynolds]

"Pie-in-the-face over here almost already did that to your friend, knockin' an old lady on her pi gu." With a sneer, "Good job, by the way."

To Dean: "I been walkin' longer 'n you were a gleam in your daddy's daddy's eye, you liú kŏushuĭ de biăozi hé hóuzi de bèn érzi." The accent's heavier, different, not Sallie's own. "Got no business here; hurtin' 'stead of helpin'."

The woman throws her head back for good measure, hoping to clock Dean in the nose.

[hopeitsworthit]

"Yeah, sorry if your existential whatever-the-fuck is low on my priority list."

He fends off the intended blow to the face.

Gleam in Grandpa's eye or not, Dean wasn't born yesterday.

Jesus.

"Except--wait. No I'm not."

Come on, Sammy. This is getting old.

[gavemea_45]

"You want to tie her up?"

Sam's inscribing a circle on the table with white chalk, drawing symbols with near-reckless speed. He dusts the lines with salt, then pulls out a sheet scrawled with handwritten notes.

"This won't take too long."

[realmrsreynolds]

"You could just let me go. What am I gon' get into in this old hag, anyhow?"

It's a valid question, for Her Him It.

[hopeitsworthit]

"Want's kind of a strong word, Sammy."

Dean musters up a smirk, hauling Sallie up off the floor.

"Upsy Daisy, psycho freak. And I'm pretty sure whatever answer you're gonna give to that question, I don't wanna know."

Seriously, now.

Give him a second to nab rope and a solid chair.

[gavemea_45]

"Cantate Deo, psallite Domino," Sam calls out.

It had taken him some time to try to modify the ritual so that it didn't call specifically on anything related to Earth, and he can't be sure he's gotten it all right, but he's got to try.

"Qui fertis super caelum caeli--"

[realmrsreynolds]

He's got to try, just as Sallie has to try and fidget against the gorram fucking (what a good word that is -- Dean is educational) ropes she's tied up in.

Other than Sallie looking more and more pissed off, there's nothing new going on as of yet.

[hopeitsworthit]

"Yeah, like that's gonna work, sweetheart."

Dean's shoulders are tense, but he sounds like they're spendin' a day trading drinks at the bar.

"Give it up."

[gavemea_45]

"...Ab insídiis diáboli, libera nos, Dómine!
Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tibi fácias libertáte servire, te rogámus, audi nos!"

It's not working. They'd know by now if it were.

There's real alarm in the look he throws Dean.

[realmrsreynolds]

"Take your own advice, smartass son of a whore."

To Sam:

"Don't know what you're workin' so hard to save this one for. It's not like with her bein' this old she's going to miss out on that much." Heavier. "Stop tryin' to help. Need me to spell it out for you?"

Almost a giggle follows, Sallie staring at her own forearm, a tiny sliver of a cut forming out of nowhere. "Lemme get some ink on."

[gavemea_45]

"No--"

The paper falls as Sam moves to grab Sallie's arm as if to prevent any further injury. As he looks down at the wound, the shock on his face gives way to sudden, horrified recognition.

[realmrsreynolds]

"Such concern."

What little light there is in the room finds the hard objects first -- the furniture, belt buckles, countertops, and tables.

And pendants.

"How novel."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean's reflexive question 'Sam, what--' Is cut off by two things.

One, Sallie opening her goddamn mouth to be a bitch, and two--

"Novel my ass." He takes a step forward, snagging what's around Sallie's neck.

"Sammy?"

He'd look to his brother right now, but taking his eyes off the freaky-ass spirit (and Sallie) is low on Dean's priority list.

[gavemea_45]

"I know what this is-- I read it in that book of ghost stories she gave me."

Sam looks into the eyes of the older woman in front of him.

"It's you, isn't it, Sallie?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean spares a moment to give Sam a 'what are you on? look.

Because--when did Sallie turn into a crazy as fuck psycho freakshow?

Did he miss a memo?

[realmrsreynolds]

"For someone from Earth-that-Was, sure took you awhile."

She's smiling, here, just as she would if she were inviting her son to dinner with her.

"Always been me, sweetheart. Now if you really want to help -- " the cut lengthens under Sam's palm, " --- you'd let me go."

[gavemea_45]

"Oh, we're gonna let you go."

It's harshly said, tight with anger.

"But first you're gonna let her go. She's not the one who hurt you, and you don't get to use her like this."

Sam glances to the side, and only then spots the amulet his brother's holding up.

"Get that thing off her. Fast."

[hopeitsworthit]

"I hope you know this hurts me more'n it hurts you."

Dean lies.

Right now, to get that thing out of Sallie before she ends up bleeding out on the floor, he doesn't really give a damn.

snap

One good yank gets the pendant off Sallie's neck, and it only takes a second to toss it on the table with the scalpels.

You know.

Just to be thorough.

[realmrsreynolds]

With Sallie still tied to the chair, it's an unnatural crane of the neck up to Dean, with all teeth and no smile and --

"You know nothing of me," her words coming rapidly -- her voice changing octave and pitch bending downward to gravel,

Everybody dies alone

" -- You call your way helping." Then, Sallie's eyes are only for her necklace that's far too far away to grab.

[gavemea_45]

"Actually, yeah. We do."

Salt first, covering the pendant that's become the focus of the spirit's grasp on the world and on so many murdered people down through the years.

Then accelerant.

(A lot of it.)

Sam flicks a quick look at Dean, then focuses levelly on Sallie.

"See, helping save people from things like you? It's a family business."



The match hisses as it falls to the table.

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean works to keep the startled expression off his face. Just in case, you know, this doesn't take the ghost bitch down.

But he and Sam are gonna have a talk, later.

Or maybe not.

[realmrsreynolds]

The old woman's face contorts
Woomch
in flashes of gray and red, with a mirage of herself floating over top of Sallie's body, blurring edges and reason when the mirage rushes toward the ceiling and dissipates into the tiles.

Whatever screams are offered are short.






In the end of it, the fact the woman is tied to the chair so steadfastly is the main fact behind her not falling sideways to the floor.