Maddison Winchester: Journal 2 {Supernatural}

4 Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things: Part 4

We left for the graveyard and prepared our fake ritual for Angela's arrival. Sam, Dean, and I lit candles around Angela's grave. We dug it up again and had the casket open and ready for her.

"You really think this is going to work?" Sam asked.

"No, not really. But it was the only thing I could come up with," Dean said.

We heard a twig break and bushes rustle, and we stood up.

Dean looked down at me. "Maddison—"

I nodded. "I know. Stay close."

Dean nodded and pulled his gun out. Sam walked off in the direction of the sound with his gun out and disappeared into the woods. Dean and I walked over and hid behind a tree so we could watch as Sam lured Angela out.

Moments later, shots were fired, and Sam came running out of the woods toward her grave. Angela tackled him and pulled his head back toward her. Dean walked out and fired his gun at her before she could snap Sam's neck. She stood up and turned around to face us. Dean shot her several more times until she finally fell back into her grave. Dean grabbed a long metal stake, and then he ran and slid into her grave.

I ran over to Sam to make sure he was okay, and we both sat up to watch Dean.

As Dean slammed the stake down into Angela, she screamed, "Wait, don't!"

Dean slammed down on the stake again and stood up. "What's dead should stay dead."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sam and Dean finished burying Angela as the sun rose.

Sam patted the top of the dirt with his shovel. "Rest in peace."

"Yeah. For good this time, okay?" Dean asked as he draped his arm over my shoulders and set off for the car.

"Ya know, that whole fake ritual thing, luring Angela into the cemetery? Pretty sharp," Sam said.

Dean nodded. "Thanks."

"But did we have to use me as bait?" Sam asked.

"I figured you were more her type. Ya know, she had pretty crappy taste in guys," Dean joked.

"I think she broke my hand." Sam winced as he clenched his fist.

Dean laughed. "You're just too fragile. We'll get it looked at later."

Once we reached the Impala, Dean paused to look at Mary's grave.

"You want to stay for a while?" Sam asked.

"No," Dean said and then dropped the shovel into the trunk and got in.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We drove for a couple hours in silence. I kept glancing at Dean in the rear-view mirror. He looked upset and angry.

Suddenly, Dean pulled over onto the side of the road and got out. He walked around to the front of the Impala and leaned against the hood. Sam looked back at me, concerned. I opened my door and got out. Sam did as well and beat me to the front.

Sam leaned against the hood. "Dean, what is it?"

Dean sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"You— For what?" Sam asked.

"The way I've been acting." Dean shook his head. "And for Dad. I mean, he was your dad too." He looked at us. "And it's my fault that he's gone."

I walked around and stood next to Sam. "What are you talking about?"