Superstitions {Dean Winchester 2}

Chapter 12

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.