𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 | 𝐬𝐩𝐧

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗

THEY decided to go to a new motel just to be safe. They went through files and files and files until there was a knock on the door. Carter took her pistol from her pocket and cocked it, then held it against the door and then opened it. It was Ballard. She shrugged and walked in, so Carter stashed her gun and closed the door. "Can we, uh, get arrested later?" She asked.

"I'm not here to arrest you. I saw her. I saw--I saw the spirit." Ballard told them. "Tell us everything," Sam said. He sat down and poured a shot of whiskey. "She was, um, really pale, and her throat was cut, and her eyes, they were like, this deep dark red? It appeared like she was trying to talk to me. But she couldn't. It was just... a lot of blood." She told them. Sam handed her the glass. "Hey...hold on," Carter murmured, opening a file. "Here. I ordered them blonde to brunettes." She smirked, handing them to the lady.

She flipped through pictures. "Claire Becker." She told them. "Before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?" Carter asked. "Yeah, Pete and I did. Before Homicide." Ballard responded. "It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn't find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest." Sam grabbed the green duffle bag and car keys.

-

Sam, Ballard, and Carter split up around a dark warehouse. Carter was upstairs and searching for the woman. Claire stood by a window. She turned around and gasped, reaching out. "In there?" Carter muttered. The woman disappeared. "Hey, Sammy? Ballard?! Up here!" Carter shouted. Sam ran up the stairs, Ballard following. "Help me move this." She requested, shoving the shelving unit.

"SUP. Ashland Sup(lies.)" Carter read from a box. She took out an EMF reader and grabbed a hammer. When it lit up red, she knocked down a wall. It took forever before they reached the wrapped girl. She unwrapped her and looked at the necklace on her neck. "Ballard...don't you have one just like this?" Carter questioned. "Pete gave it to me," Ballard whispered.

"Claire is not a vengeful spirit, she's a death omen. Claire's not killing anyone. She's trying to warn them. You see, sometimes spirits, don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is. Detective, how much do you know about your partner?" Sam frowned. "About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously, it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product." Ballard replied.

"Call the station, we need to go. Now."

-

"Pete just left the precinct. With Dean. He said the prisoner had to be transferred, and he just took him. Dispatch has been calling but he won't answer the radio." The cop reported. "GPS. County vehicle." Carter murmured, opening her laptop as the car sped down the road.

She gave Sam directions and they arrived at the scene, moments before Dean could have gotten shot. Ballard yelled at Pete to stand down and when he didn't, all hell broke loose. Sheridan died while Claire watched happily.

Ballard began cleaning up the scene and Dean approached her. "You doin' alright?" He asked. "Not really. The death omen Claire. What happens to her now?"

Meanwhile, Sam and Carter stayed by the Impala. "You did good, C." He smiled. "We did good." She nudged him in the side and they got into the car.

𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃
"Well boys, we aren't arrested." Carter celebrated, handing them a beer each. "Yeah, could be worse." Dean agreed. She took the cap off of the bottle and took a sip. Sam and Dean looked at her. Their feelings for her were similar, yet completely different.

Dean has always had a strong urge to protect Carter since the moment they met. She used to seem so fragile until he actually got to know her. They bonded over drinks, trauma, and girls. Dean never thought anything of it until she told them she was bi. He slept better when she was in his arms. He could drain out the world for years just to sleep beside her.

Sam, on the other hand, has let his feelings develop. Maybe it was his loneliness that made him think of her so often when he first arrived at Stanford. She was a pretty girl, so who would forget her so easily? When they became friends, he never thought of her as anything less than a college student. She was two years younger than him, but she acted like anyone else. When he decided to take off to hunt with Dean, he needed her by his side and that's when he knew he was in deep.

The brothers had a problem at hand, but ignored it. Dean was willing to go sleepless for his brother's happiness.

Carter stared at the stars, alcohol dry on her lips. She walked to the trunk of the Impala and grabbed a sheet she "borrowed" from a motel, then laid it out in the grass. "What is this, a Hallmark movie?" Dean scoffed. "Dean, sit your ass down." She warned. He put his hands up and walked over to the blanket, then let out a deep sigh before laying on the fluffy surface. His eyes softened when we saw the view of the stars without having to break his neck.

Carter turned the radio on in the Impala and took Sam's hand into her own. He smiled and she stepped up on her tippy toes to place a kiss on his lips. His lips were cold and tasted like mint, coffee, and beer, which was all the more comforting for Carter. His hands snaked around her waist and he pulled her closer. "No making out in front of your brother!" Dean shouted.