Case 02: Sutherland, NE

Ophelia nodded, whistling before moving to hide in the backseat, just in case.

"dean, I'm here." Sam called out, blinking at the mound of dirt. "This is her. Help me... er... wrap this stuff up so we can bury her with her dad."

This was an uncomfortable action to be preforming in the first place, but having the ghost girl watching made it a lot worse. Sam whispered apologies while kneeling down beside the mound.

"We're taking you home Winnifred. And Dean's not a father either... that we know of... it's possible though, but not a fact, so don't look at him like that, he's just helping. Hurry Dean, I think she's getting impatient." Once they had what remained of her, Sam began to lead the way back to the cemetery. He prayed that no random cop would show up, because explaining this one would be hard.

Just then, Sam fell back down to his knees and held his head. He got a flash of Dean, laying on the ground, bleeding and Ophelia standing over him with a knife. Shit. He and someone else were standing off to the side, letting it happen. Which was impossible, so maybe it was just his imagination... hopefully.

"I'm fine... let's do this."

"Bury her with him? So her dad's already dead, eh?" That changed things, made them less complicated, more tame. Dean removed his jacket to collect the remains, helping Sam wrap them up before giving his brother the morbid bundle so his hands were free for shooting. "Yeah, yeah, hurrying..." he griped, failing to see the ghost, which led to the assumption that she only wanted Sam to notice her. As Sam took her remains, she appeared in his arms, weightless despite their approach to the cemetery and her firm hold around his neck. When he fell, she dissipated for the moment, though Dean was quick to replace her at Sam's side.

"Sammy? Hey, what's going on?" If it was that spirit, he'd torch her remains right then and there. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a small bag of salt, but paused as Sam came back to his wits, Winny clinging to his side as she stared Dean down.

"Fine? What was that, Sam? That was not 'fine'. Do we need to torch her, or what?"

"Dean, it's not her... I don't think so at least. This feels different." Sam picked Winnifred up again and started walking once more towards the cemetery. "It's just a headache... and stuff. We can talk about it after we're done with this, but it's not a big deal. We're almost there Winnifred. You'll be with your dad soon, okay?"

He walked up to the cemetery and found the grave.

"Don't be scared." Sam whispered, setting her down on top of it. "He's waiting for you to come home. Dean? Held me dig..."

As the dug, Dean would get the sense that they were being watched, but it might just be the ghost.

"Well, then what is it? Random crippling headaches aren't really your daily routine." Dean trudged after Sam, brows furrowed, his demand for an explanation silently pushing onward. Winnifred seemed content to stay in Sam's arms, relaxed now that she saw that Dean wasn't after her remains. She stayed like that until she was set upon her father's grave, and a small tremble shook her as she stared up at Sam with a blank expression.

"I'm not scared," she whispered, standing solemnly as Dean grumbled his compliance and set about helping Sam with shoveling. Digging the hole was no problem; hell, they had done this sort of thing countless times, it was easy. But it felt like something was watching him a bit too intently. Sneaking a peek at Sam, he threw some dirt over his shoulder, then glanced back behind himself to see where it had fallen.

"Is that kid staring at me, Sam?" he murmured, leaning in close as he took another spade of dirt. Winnifred was sitting on the edge of the hole they were digging, eyes shut in concentration. She had been like that for awhile.

"Or are you just sneaking peeks when I'm not looking? No need to be envious, Sammy." Lightening the mood in order to shrug off the chills, he pressed on, making sure his gun was within quick reach. His guard wasn't down, not for a second, but he didn't know what was out there. Maybe it was nothing, but when you hunted the supernatural, that was hardly the case. He had plenty of reasons to be under tabs by ghosties and ghouls, after all.

"What? No, she's not, and what is there to look at? Pssh," Sam replied, digging up the last shovel of dirt. "And are you wearing my shirt? Just break down and do some laundry, it's not always my job you know."

Being a Brother Wife wasn't always easy.

"Okay, I think we have it. Ready Winnifred?" He gave her a soft smile then started the lower her down. It was pretty morbid, almost like burying her alive since he could still see her. "If you change your mind, just let me know. If not, say hi to your dad for me."

He waited, if she was fine, he would toss a shovel full of dirt onto the coffin.

The feeling didn't leave Dean though, and he would hear a shuffle in the woods, it sounded like it was leaving. Then after a minute, the sound of an engine roaring to life echoed towards them. It wasn't the sound of his baby at least, but it was proof that someone had seen them.

"I'm too busy saving your ass to do laundry, which is why it's your job." Dean pulled himself up out of the hole once Sam deemed it satisfactory, and was surprised to actually see the little girl, this time, as Sam lowered her down.

"Take me home, Sam," she whispered, giving him a weak smile before fading from both of their views. Dean's watched her go with a knot forming in his stomach, the brief sight of her mangled throat and the idea of burying something sentient grasping him in passing. He shook it off quickly, however, and began to help Sam fill in the hole, stopping only when he heard the rustling and the life of an engine.

"Sammy...did you hear that? Someone was watching us." Probably the person from before who ransacked their motel room. Whoever it was would probably tail them, if they wanted the journal so badly, of that Dean had no doubt. "Better see if our resident cripple is still in one piece." Fishing his phone from his pocket, he called Ophelia, gesturing for Sam to hurry up, just in case.

Sam looked away as he filled in the rest of the dirt, not able to watch it land on what remained of the girl. Once they finished, he leaned against his shovel for a breather when he heard it too.

"Yeah, a car. Sounds like a bit of a junker." He added, gathering their stuff and walking with Dean out of the cemetery.

"Yes Dean, I heard it," Ophelia replied before he could ask. "It's no where near your car though and I didn't sense anyone get too close to it either. Trail us? No, I doubt it. Sounds like his muffler fell off a while back, no way would he be dumb enough to trail us in that piece of junk. I'd say we've got half-a-days' head start while he finds another car or gets that one fixed. Hurry back, I have something to tell you guys."

When they got back into the car, Ophelia popped up from the backseat with a smile.

"I have good news, I think. I just peeked into the 'other' world and talked to a contact. Seems that demon you're looking for was just in Arizona. Another Roadtrip?" She grinned, proud of herself for contributing. "Don't worry, I see what you guys got going on here. I'll try not to cramp this bro style you're working on. Wake me up if you need me."

She flopped down in the back, using her bag as a pillow. Sam actually wished she was awake, so he could avoid the weird conversation with Dean about the headache.

"Well, I'm going to sleep too then, wake me up when you need to drive." He whistled, looking away.

Dean was reminded of why he didn't like talking to Ophelia. Why did he call her, again? Well, at any rate, their job here was done, so it was time to go, anyway. He gripped the journal in his pocket and took a backwards glance at Winny's grave before leaving with Sam and making good time to the car. So their next stop was in Arizona, eh? Sweltering hot weather sounded fine and dandy; hopefully there would be some swelteringly hot babes, too, or at least a proper lead that didn't involve Ophelia talking to the enemy.

"Arizona, it is," he stated simply, making the engine purr beneath him before moving to tame the streets. He made a mental note to stop and grab some coffee, since the day hadn't been very restful for him, and grunted in response to Ophelia, turning on the radio and turning it down low in a small act of consideration. Sam, he knew, could tune it out by now, but if Ophelia was asleep, she wouldn't be a snarky pain in his ass for the drive, which he wanted. Seemed his brother thought he was getting off on the same excuse, though.

"Oh, no, we have unfinished business, Sammy. I think it's time to talk about your 'headache'. So what really went on back there?" Glancing over at his brother, Dean raised an inquisitive eyebrow, knowing that he'd get an answer sooner rather than later. After all, Sam was stuck with him in the Impala until they hit Point B.

Dammit, it didn't work at all. Even though they hadn't seen each other in a while, Dean still knew him well enough.

"Dean," Sam sighed, leaning back in his seat and peering over at him. "We're brothers. I get that. But sometimes it's okay to not share every little detail of our lives. Like how I really didn't need to know in depth about the night you had with that waitress last week. Can't we just let this go? You'll think I'm crazy."

He frowned, peering out at the sun beginning to rise above the trees. Sam knew Dean wouldn't stop pestering him until he told the truth, and it would be a long ride if he didn't. He sat in silence for a good ten minutes before clearing his throat.

"Before Jessica died, I had nightmares. Not ordinary nightmares, i saw it happening, and I didn't stop it becuase I thought it wasn't real. I... I think I'm seeing things Dean." He whispered. "It happened again back in the cemetery. But, I'd rather not talk about it anymore. Not yet, not until I know for sure."

"Hey, I was trying to pass on my older brother wisdom. Every man needs a repertoire of tricks, and no, we're not letting this go. You suddenly keel over in a cemetery and expect me to let it go. Nice try. Now we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way." Sam thought he would sound crazy? They didn't exactly have a sane line of work, from society's standpoint, so that was an interesting statement. Dean didn't know if he should blow of the gravity Sam was giving the situation, or become more concerned. Deciding to let the topic stew for a moment, he drove in silence, though it didn't last long.

"I could always tell you about the wild girl on the Indian reservation right before I came to get you..." Dean was impatient, after all. It seemed to do the trick, though, for after another beat of silence, Sam was picking the easy route. What he had to say, though...it did sound crazy.

"Nightmares of what happened? Like what, premonitions?" That's what it sounded like. What had Sam seen, back at the cemetery? There was no way that it was real, right? Sammy wasn't a freak, at least, no more than he was raised to be. Dean didn't quite know how to feel about this, and decided to give his brother a mercy card, sighing silently through his nose and giving Sam another short glance.

"Alright, Sammy, but just know this topic isn't a case gone cold." He'd bring it up again when he was comfortable with where he stood on the topic, unless Sam beat him to the punch. For now, he had the road to tend to.