Fic - Cross Creek - 6/6

[zoemathemata]

Dean stuffs the last of his things into the duffle bag, eyes carefully sweeping over the room for any stray items. Satisfied he zips it up and slings it over his shoulder.

Sam is outside keeping Oliver company. Oliver’s barely spoken to them since his sister came out of room 43 looking decidedly dead and inhuman. Although Dean knows the twins had an entire conversation without saying a word out loud. It ended when Oliver turned away from Farrah and asked if he could go down the mountain with Sam and Dean. They immediately agreed, Oliver went to pack and Farrah…

Farrah just disappeared.

They waited in the foyer while Oliver went to pack and Dean asked Sam what he remembered from room 43. Sam turned away and when he finally did speak, his voice was quiet.

“It was like that line, from Francis’ journal. I dream of a thing stretched out before me, vast and horrible. I have no past and no future.” Sam squinted into the morning sun streaming through the small window, letting it fall full on his face for a few moments. “I… there was no… I’ve been scared before. We’ve seen too much, done too much for me not to have been scared at some point. But I never… I was so… the desolation was…” he swallowed hard. “And then I saw something, something awful coming for me and I couldn’t… I didn’t know it was her. I thought it was there to finish me and all I could think was, ‘thank God.’”

He turned from Dean and went outside to stand fully in the sunshine and Dean had headed up stairs to gather their things.

Dean’s not surprised to find her in the hallway when he makes his way down the grand staircase, her ghostly shape peering out the small window next to the door, watching her brother as he sits silently stretched out in the backseat of the Impala. She turns as she hears Dean coming and her eyes flicker strangely between normal and other for a moment before finally settling on ‘human.’ Sam pokes his head in through the door and seeing Dean and Farrah steps inside.

“Ready?” Sam asks Dean and the older brother nods. They turn to Farrah.

“Thank you for taking Oliver,” she says.

Dean still finds it strange to be conversing so easily with a ghost and while Sam doesn’t seem to fear Farrah outright, he gives her a wide berth.

“Yeah, no problem. How did you guys leave it?” asks Dean.

She looks away from him, eyes tightening. “He said he needs to get away and I’m happy for him. This was never… he was never meant to be here. Not like me.” She turns back to Dean. “He’ll come back. Either when he’s ready or when he’s old and grey, or when he’s dead and gone. And I’ll be here.”

“You’ll, uh, be okay?” Sam questions.

She smiles. “Yes. We’ll be fine.” She jerks her head to the space behind her and when they look over her shoulder, all the ghosts of Cross Creek are standing on the staircase watching them.

“That’s not creepy at all,” Dean mutters under his breath and she laughs.

“I know it’s not something you can promise, but if you can, when you find ghosts or troubled spirits, draw this for them.”

She snaps her fingers and a piece of paper materializes in the air and floats down to land on Sam’s shoulder. He takes the paper and gives it the once over. He recognizes it as the rosette of Inanna, an eight pointed star.

“If they concentrate on it, I can bring them here,” she continues. “Give them someplace to go, take care of them.”

Sam carefully folds the paper and tucks it into his coat pocket. Dean’s look is not quite suspicious, but it’s close.

“We’ll be keeping an eye out,” Dean says firmly, eyes darting over her shoulder to the ghosts standing behind her.

“They won’t cause any trouble. They never have. I won’t cause any trouble,” she says easily. “And if I do, well, you know where my bones are. Salt and burn, isn’t that what you said?”

Dean nods and he can tell by Sam’s face that he’s thinking the same thing. Both of them doubt salting and burning would have any effect on Farrah. She’s not just some ghost.

Even if she seems to think she is.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I kinda hope to never see you again,” she says with a wry smile.

That steals a huff of amusement from both Sam and Dean.

“Yeah, the feeling’s mutual,” replies Dean as he and Sam make their way toward the door.

Farrah turns to Sam. “But I haven’t forgotten my promise. And when you’re ready, I will tell you what’s on the other side.”

Sam’s eyes fill up with nerdy anticipation as his face pales with shock. Dean fights the urge to push Sam out the door with as much force as he can muster. In the end, he simply follows Sam out, adjusting his duffle on his shoulder as they make their way down the steps. They can just make out Oliver’s head over the top of the driver’s seat. His head pointedly turned away from the hotel.

From Farrah.

Dean tosses his duffle in the trunk as Sam slides into the passenger side of the Impala, saying something low and quiet to Oliver who shakes his head and doesn’t look up. Dean looks back at the hotel one last time. Farrah’s ghostly silhouette is framed by the door, her body slightly translucent now and Dean can start to make out the shapes of other ghosts drifting around behind her. She raises a hand in a hesitant wave and before he can think about it, he waves back. The door drifts shut slowly, and she doesn’t get out of the way, but instead lets it pass right through her, finally obscuring her from view.

It’s the first time they’ve ever driven away from a place they knew was haunted without salting or burning anything.

He has the strange feeling it won’t be the last.

As he stares at the door, an eight pointed rosette starts to carve itself deeply into the wood, perfectly, methodically until it’s complete.




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