[HIATUS] Runaway ° Supernatural

xvi. blame

"I'm telling you, Seattle, 2003. My mom was dating this guy who ran a wax museum slash bed and breakfast, right?" She was gesturing wildly as she talked, having told this story to her friends before, "We were staying there because my mom had picked up a job somewhere nearby and we were too young to be left alone."

She put her feet up on the seat, "Me and my brother, Austin, we thought it would be funny if we moved them around in the night, y'know? To scare him, 'cause we didn't like the guy, and he didn't like us."

Dean nodded as he watched the road, but raised his eyebrows when he saw her feet were on the seat again.

"So we did it for a couple of nights and it worked, but then he caught us. The guy was so mad," She laughed, "He literally grabbed the axe that was hanging on his wall and started chasing us around. We had to lock ourselves in one of the guest rooms and when my mom came home, she was so mad. She said she was going to call the police, and you know what he told her?"

Sam raised his eyebrows, seemingly invested in the story. She smiled to herself, "He said, 'God told me that your children are sinners and they needed to be punished.'"

The two in the front seat stared at her with incredulous looks, before they all started laughing. It was a bittersweet moment for Artie.

Sweet because she was laughing with the people she cared about, and bitter because the ones she cared about before were gone.

——-

They were walking through the wax museum late at night. It gave her an uneasy chill and she eyed the figures suspiciously.

"Check it out," Dean said. She spun around and saw him holding Abraham Lincoln's hat.

"Four score and seven years ago," He deepened his voice, "I had a funny hat."

She snickered and Sam sighed, holding out his hand, "Dean."

"What, we can't have any fun with this?" He threw the hat in the trash can.

"I'm more concerned about how the owner's going to react when he sees all of his precious items missing."

"If he asks, just say that God compelled you."

"Guys," Sam scolded, "Let's just torch the object, torch the ghosts, and get outta here. Okay?"

Artie had tuned him out and was examining a wax model of JFK. She remembered how her friend, Jenn, had a minor obsession with him in the eighth grade. Jenn watched every documentary about him there was and made Artie watch some with her. She still remembered that a ton of conspiracy theorists thought that he had an affair with Marilyn Monroe and that the CIA may have planned his investigation. A sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

What did her friends think happened to her? Did they even care? Was the story that she killed her mom and ran, or did she die in the fire?

"I'll go grab East of Eden's keychain," Dean called out as he walked into the room next to hers. She was studying the intricacy of the sculpture, admiring how well crafted it was. Her shotgun hung loosely in her hand. Then the doors slammed shut and she stiffened, freezing for a moment before pulling the gun up.

"Sam?" She knocked on the door that he was behind, then did the same with Dean's door, "Dean?"

She tugged on the door handles but they wouldn't budge. Her breath slowly condensed in front of her so she put her back to the door and aimed her gun at the air.

"If someone wants to try to get in here, that would be awesome!" She shouted, worried. All she heard was Sam's very muffled voice, which sounded like it was getting very far away.