mangacat201 | The Truth Lies Beneath

She had been expecting a violent reaction on Winchester’s part following this insinuation, but Gillian is in no way prepared for the shit storm that breaks loose in the interrogation room in the wake of Cal’s last words. Winchester’s face transforms into a mask of unadulterated rage from one second to the next. He snarls and flings himself bodily out of his chair and over the table at Lightman, only held back by the fact that the latter is still bolted firmly to the ground and that he’s still safely attached to it. Still, he seems to be in control enough to use the whole length of chain available to him and his fist is only stopped a few inches in front of Lightman’s face, who had leaned to pretend to peruse the file.

“Don’t you dare talk about my brother like that, you have no right. You OWE him.”

Saunders cries out in shock next to her and Gillian barely gets it together fast enough to fling the door open and shout for backup for the one guard that was posted in front of the door, who had already stormed into the interrogation room into the middle of the turmoil, where Winchester was still struggling against his shackles while screaming himself hoarse with obscenities.

“You fucking owe him EVERYTHING, you arrogant little fucks, sitting here all high and mighty, like you know how the world works, like you know what kind of sacrifices it took to keep your precious plane of existence from being wiped out from under your pompous fucking asses.”

Winchester had his torso pressed flat on the table, being restrained by two guards leaning their whole weight on his back. He still twisted and turned as if he had the chance to break free while his murderous gaze was completely focused on Lightman, who sat there unmoving, not a single hair out of place, like he was jumped by rampaging sociopaths every other day. But Gillian knew him too well. She knew that he’d been genuinely shaken by the intensity of the reaction. That never happened to Cal, he always landed on his feet, no matter what was thrown at him, but for a moment there it felt like he was seriously speechless, and suddenly the air in the room felt thick and suffocating to Gillian. She imagined the smell of rotten eggs permeating everything, rendering the oxygen in the room useless for a drawn out second.

The second it took Lightman to recover was just long enough for a switch to flip in Winchester who jerked his head up one last time and then slumped onto the table like a puppet with all the strings cut, all the tension running out of his body at once, leaving him listless and unresponsive.

“What was that all about then?”

Cal asked as the two guards dragged Winchester roughly back into his chair and only stepped back warily when Lightman indicated with a raised eyebrow for them to let him go. Gillian took a deep breath to collect herself for the shock and felt her head spinning from the rapid course of events, because, as violently as Winchester reacted to the mention of his brother, just as abruptly did he fold up into himself, as if that burst of frantic energy was all that was left inside him, and when the chains had arrested that in mid-motion, everything broke apart. Still, she was not at all prepared for the man to bow down until his forehead rested upon the table, hiding his face from the stale, flickering light overhead. His shoulders trembled with the enormous effort of keeping the scream that was apparently bubbling right underneath the surface, locked up inside him. Dean Winchester was obviously nothing if not a man of pride, and for him to lose it like that in front of complete strangers was only explicable by the presence of an unimaginable trauma that had been unlocked, tragedy, loss, … grief.

Lightman looked up at the guards and flicked his hand in the direction of the door to indicate for them to leave. They look appropriately reluctant, but Winchester was still as securely trussed up as he was before the incident and obviously right now way less of a danger than he had seemed to be a couple of minutes ago. They vacated the room after a few seconds, but Gillian could tell from the silhouettes that there were now two shadows cast right outside the door. For a moment the room was dead silent, and Gillian wondered if this would be the first time Cal Lightman has ever been struck speechless by an opponent. A different voice ripped her out of her thoughts before she can think of a likely strategy to go on.

“Not so badass after all, huh?”

The indifferent callousness of the statement hit Gillian hard. Even with all that Winchester’s done, his pain didn’t deserve such a dismissal, especially since the capability of such an emotional response revealed a kind of humanity that even the most scheming of psychopaths wouldn’t be able to phone in.

“His reactions are exaggerated, but hardly surprising considering the ultimate level of co-dependency that is indicated by what we know about his relationship with his brother. If something happened to break up their unit, it’s no wonder that he’s off his game and making mistakes like he did when he got himself arrested.”

“So, that’s what Lightman’s been gunning for all this time, with all the skedaddling around the issue, why didn’t he just go straight for the brother?”

“Of course it is, his method relies on unbalancing the subjects to elicit involuntary responses that they can’t control and direct, so we get authentic reads on their real agenda. But he couldn’t very well come out with that right away. He needs to get a feel for a person before he can push their buttons like that.”

“Ha, looks like Dean Winchester’s got more buttons to push than a twenty-storey elevator.”

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t come as a surprise given his personal track record. However, make no mistake in assuming that he’s any less dangerous for it now. On the contrary, this is a challenge that only someone with a whole lot or experience can handle.”

Gillian observed the room on the other side of the window and her senses went on high alert again the moment she noticed that Cal had figured out what to do next.

“I have to be honest, I think you’re more than just a bit barmy, but I didn’t take you for one of them Judgement Day nuts that are out there preaching the end of the world.”

Winchester didn’t move for a moment, but then he lifted his head slightly and stared at Lightman with steely eyes that had something dark and knowledgeable behind them.

“Oh believe me, I’m not preaching, I know exactly when and where it was supposed to take place. “

Lightman raises an eyebrow slowly, his answer dripping with sarcasm.

“So you mean to tell me that you’ve got legit intel on the end of the world?”

“Trust me, if you got front row seats for the celebrity death match between angels and demons, you might be the last to know, but you do get to know. And let me tell you, it isn’t a fun ride.”

Winchester allowed himself the remnants of a smirk and sat there, leaning back in a slouch, shoulders relaxed, hands nestled in his lap. Gone the man that had just erupted into blazing mad rage. Gillian was both fascinated and wary of the development, but she knew Cal was doing well steering the conversation away from the brother. That was a hot button that was covering a trauma too fresh and stark to get them anywhere.

“Demons, eh?”

The key to Winchester – naturally talented as he is at reading people much like they do – was giving him genuine emotions that passed his scrutiny and kept him from shutting down. Gillian knew that Cal’s interest wasn’t fake, he was always intrigued by the countless different ways that people put their perspective on the world together.

“Oh yeah, nasty little buggers. Possessing people is their way of getting around here, and they’re damn difficult to get rid of if you want to keep the host alive. That’s how your perfectly straight and narrow neighbour turns into a sadistic psycho out to mess with your head, because they don’t actually ask for permission to ride people’s bodies before they go off and leave carnage in their wake. And since they’ve perfected the art of blending in, even a nifty, manipulative, asshole shrink like you wouldn’t be able to tell them from Jack if you don’t know the signs.”

“And what are those?”

“They’re really having a ball in there, aren’t they? Playing ping-pong off each other and never gaining any ground.”

Gillian flicked her eyes at Saunders for a moment before concentrating again on what was going on in the other room. She wondered, however, at the sudden change of attitude and expression that didn’t fit the blonde’s personality at all. Even so, it was more important right now to observe Winchester as he divulged a part of the unique perspective that shaped his world and made him the person he was.

“What? Now you want me to give you a Bump in the Night 101?”

Lightman smirked and inclined his head slightly.

“Call it scholarly interest if you like, or one of those zombie apocalypse manuals…”

Winchester curled his lip a little in return, much like a pro would about the fumbling attempts of an amateur.

“Trust me, zombies are easy, but when you are on the look-out for a demon, there’s only a few things you can track to find them out.”

“Such as…?”

“Electricity. They mess with it. The big bosses will give you full out electric storms and such, but even a low level demon will cause little outages. Thing you’d barely notice as out of the ordinary, temperamental wiring, flickering lights…”

Winchester showed absolutely no signs that he believed that what he was saying was anything but the truth. An insane truth, no doubt, but reality for him all the same, after all, faulty light bulbs were hardly a supernatural occurrence.

“But then, a lot of supernatural phenomena involve electrical mishaps, so to be sure you’ve got a demon on your hands you’ve got to find the signature of Hell, fire and brimstone.”

“Fire and Brimstone, eh?”

“Well, if you’re in the business you know that a lot of legends and portents are true, but entirely less poetic in the real world. You find that rotten egg stink, and the bright yellow of sulphur anywhere near? There’s one of them around for sure.”

Gillian’s nose twitched, and she resisted the urge to scratch at it.

“For all of his pathetic state, Dean Winchester sure hasn’t lost his taste for the dramatic it seems.”

The comment washed right over Gillian until the sense of the words registered, and she turned around with a cold coil of dread lying like a stone in her belly.

“What did you say?”

When she looked Saunders in the face, eyes dancing over the sleek, pretty features, looking for the cues that she’d marked down since getting to know the young lawyer, a feeling of utter wrongness stole over her. Gillian realized that the micro expressions she was taking in from Saunders now were entirely different from anything she’d seen before from her and reflected a whole separate set of emotions and characteristics. It was as if she was standing in front of another person entirely. Saunders held her gaze for a few seconds, and then a small smirk stretched her lips.

“So, you’ve picked up on it, have you?”

“And if you have a particular person picked out as a suspect, you can unmask them with the exposure to holy water, which burns them, or by making them reveal their true nature in earshot of the uttering of the Lord’s name. Christo.”

Gillian was stunned motionless when Saunders hissed and it looked for a moment as if a second set of lids had slid over her eyes, turning her entire eyeballs inky black like a bottomless pit. Her mind was scrambling to put together the impossibility of what was happening, but before she could find her voice to make any attempt at a reply, Saunders eyes changed back, and her face turned into a grimace of malice and evil.

“I think I’ve waited around long enough, let’s play, shall we?”

And before Gillian could do anything, an invisible force slammed into her from the side and flung her against the window, which promptly exploded into a sharp rain of splinters and into the interrogation room behind. She felt her shoulder connect with the glass, and something cracked inside, before pain bloomed all over, radiating down her arm and up her neck. An agonized scream was wrenched from her throat as she landed on the floor and slid to Dean Winchester’s feet. He was standing, flinging the water at the blonde, chains dangling uselessly from one wrist. Through the haze of pain she heard Cal shout, and every stick of furniture in the room slammed into the wall with full force, even the bolted table. Saunders was climbing over the remnants of the shattered window like a cat, heedless of remaining shards cutting her hands open, while the blood flowed freely, and skin smoked and blistered where the water had hit her.

“Deano, Deano, that was not nice… but you know as well as I do that a few specks of holy water are not going to stop me.”

Gillian watched in disbelief as the petite woman moved through the room and closed her hand around Winchester’s throat to drag him with her and slam him against the opposite wall with considerable force and speed. Unable to do anything to intervene, she tried to breathe through the pain and make heads and tails of what was happening.

“Meg.”

“That’s right. I must say I’m really, really not amused at what you did with the whole apocalypse, or that thanks to your meddling I’m very much a persona non grata everywhere, especially downstairs, instead of holding my rightful place on top of the food chain. You, and your brother, and your feathery friend who really needs to learn how to treat a lady, seriously rained on my parade. Imagine my unholy glee when you surfaced right here, out in the open and up for grabs, after that little, self destructive rampage you pulled. I’m going to enjoy wrapping your entrails around my little finger so.very.much.”

Gillian felt her nostrils flare, and she wanted to think about moving, about passing out – which was such a bad idea – but everything about her seemed frozen in place, silent witness to the impossible scenario that was playing out in front of her. Her mind shied away from the notion that Dean Winchester might actually be neither delusional nor psychotic, but… truthful.

“So, is there anything you’d like to say for yourself before I start ripping you open?”

Winchester let out a grunt of pain as she closed her vicelike grip around his throat just a little bit further. He stared right at her and then answered with a rough voice, clearly short of breath.

“Just that I … picked up a few new… tricks as well…”

And then he spoke a short string of words that slithered into Gillian’s one ear and right out of the other as if they were living things that refused to stay in place, but they left a burning awe behind and had the most peculiar effect on Saunders. Her back bowed with incredible tension, and Winchester choked as her fingers spasmed around his throat, before a keening wail erupted from her, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone. Just… vanished from one second to the next. Winchester slumped down against the wall, breathing heavily with his hand on the bruised skin of his neck. When he finally looked up, and around the room, Gillian saw cold calculation and burning anger in his eyes, but also a fierce streak of determination around his mouth, and she did not doubt for a second longer that this was the most dangerous man she had ever encountered.

Winchester moved with single-minded purpose before she could even register that the unnatural bounds that seemed to have frozen her in place had dissipated, and she rolled off what felt like it might be a snapped collarbone with a pained groan.

“You better not think about doing anything stupid, and go over to your lady friend to make sure she isn’t in immediate danger.”

Through hazy vision, Gillian saw Winchester on the other end of the room, but he vision cleared from the adrenaline suddenly pumping through her as she realized that he had picked up one of the bigger shards of the broken window. Cal knew how to pick his battles at least and scrambled out of his chair and past Winchester to her to whisper encouragements and precise questions about her wellbeing. She couldn’t take her eyes off the vicious killer, who had bent down to make quick work of unlocking the ankle chains which were the only thing that kept his movement impaired. The words were out before she could think much about them.

“How did you even get free?”

Winchester looked up and threw her a grin that was almost mischievous as he dropped the shackles.

“You really shouldn’t have paperclips littered all over your files, and leaving them right there on the table up for grabs is a mistake.”

Her eyes widened as she realized that even during his genuine outburst about his brother, some part of Dean had retained enough control to actually calculate an escape option.

“And what do you intend to do now? Butcher us and then shoot yourself out of a high security facility or something?”

Since Cal was satisfied that she was in pain but not in immediate danger of going into shock or bleeding out from the various surface lacerations on her shoulder and arms, he was working on keeping Winchester’s focus on him while he tracked the man’s every move. What he didn’t mention was how the two guards outside had not reacted to the considerable mayhem in the room which meant that they were most likely on their own.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I bought us about three minutes, half of which is already over, spent talking about inconsequential shit. I have to make sure that we have a way better temporary solution set up when she comes crawling back in.”

Inconceivably, Winchester used the glass to cut his own forearm, blood welling up thick and red from the skin at once.

“What do you mean, when she comes crawling back in? That was the supervisory assistant attorney for the DA and …”

Winchester interrupted her while he dipped his fingers into the blood and begun to draw a circle on the rough concrete of the floor.

“Yes, I can see how much you believe that. You know, as much as I don’t like introducing people to the supernatural underbelly of the world the hard way, you just met your first demon, and you pretty much got a show you can’t just rationalize away like most people do, so cut the bullshit. This demon is a grade A bitch, and she’s going to rip out your lungs just as soon as throw you clear through a window to get to me, since we have quite the history with each other, and the spell I banished her with will keep her away just long enough to get this protection circle done. So here’s what you’re going to do, you’re going to pick up the lady and carry her inside this circle, with special care not to disturb the lines. Either that, or you can sit out there and wait for her to paint the walls with your guts, your choice.”

Cal looked at Winchester for a couple of heartbeats, and Gillian could feel the doubt and indecision warring inside him. He had not seen those inky black eyes after all, but he must have found something in Winchester’s expression that tipped the scales. He picked her up and walked over, stepping over the bloody line with caution before he set her down carefully, wincing at her hiss of pain. Winchester ignored them even though they only were a couple of feet away from each other. Just seconds later, he finished drawing the sigils in his blood, and the whole circle lit up for the blink of an eye. Before Gillian could puzzle out what to think of it, she noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and looked up to find Saunders scowling at them from just outside the circle.

“You did learn a few new tricks, huh? Making me leave the party early, Dean. Now that’s not nice.”

“Throwing people through windows to make your own door is much worse on the count of hospitality.”

“Psht, a couple of broken bones – there’s much worse that you can do to a human body before it gets real interesting., You and me both know how, don’t we? Why don’t you come outside your little foxhole, give us a song and dance, so we can have a bit of fun. I’ll even go so far as to promise you not to break your pretty little lady any more.”

Gillian felt Cal tense at her side, but the most remarkable thing that happened was the way Winchester instinctively moved to shield her from the … demon’s view as he put his body between them, effectively leaving his back wide open to them. She didn’t even need her considerable amount of training and knowledge to determine that a man displaying these reactions wouldn’t deliberately hurt a woman the way he’d been accused of doing – apart from the fact that demons were real, and the whole case had just turned on its head completely anyway.

“You know as well as I do that you can’t touch us in here, there’s no reason for me to come out”

She pouted indignantly.

“Oh, but then again, you can’t stay in there forever, can you? And trust me, the way I can wait you out is way more effective what without the need for sustenance or water or medical attention. What are you going to do, wait for the cavalry?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Ha, do that, but you know the price for the kind of bloodwork you did there is that I can’t get in, but you can’t get me exorcised without stepping out of the circle, and that would break the spell.”

“You know me, jack of all trades. I always come up with something.”

The person that was definitely not Saunders snorted in response.

“You keep telling yourself that. But the one thing you can’t keep out is words, right? How about I tell your friends a few stories about the great Dean Winchester while we wait?”

Winchester tensed even further, but all his strength seemed to go into confining him into this small place he had made for himself as a voluntary prison as much as protection.

“Huh, go ahead; see if they believe you; apparently they’re the experts at spotting lies.”

The demon – Winchester had called her Meg – started prowling around the circle that for some unfathomable reason really seemed to keep her out. It made the hair on Gillian’s neck stand on end, and she leaned into Cal with a shudder that was born more of unease than of pain.

“Oh, I know, I’ve been hanging around. I have to say it’s quite fascinating to watch them trying to unearth the truth from all the things that people don’t say. How do you think you’re going to do with the Queen of Lies, feel up for the challenge?”

The last bit was clearly directed at Cal, and Gillian knew that he would rise to the challenge no matter what, but maybe it would occupy her enough for Winchester to actually come up with a way out of this mess.

“My suspension of disbelief has been as stretched thin as it goes today, so hit me up.”

Gillian could feel Cal grasping desperately for even the slightest shred of the control that he had so utterly lost the moment she’d come crashing through that window.

“My, Dean, this one’s frisky, isn’t he? Tell me, did you believe what our dear boy was telling you as the truth?”

Cal looked at her with a raised eyebrow and exuding more confidence than Gillian knew he could possibly have been feeling. Anxiety filled her at the thought of him sparring verbally with that creature.

“Of course not, he was accused of a list of heinous crimes and basically tried to get out of it by claiming that the devil made him do it.”

A bout of pearly laughter filled the room, a sound completely befitting Saunders appearance, but somehow it felt grating and wrong.

“Do you hear that, Dean? What a curious choice of words, trust me, the devil has never been able to make Dean Winchester do anything, and, let me tell you, THAT threw an enormous wrench into many people’s plans.”

Her eyes darkened from mischievous to hostile in a heartbeat, and it dropped the temperature in the room ten degrees.

“It’s not my fault that you lot chose to ignore the free will clause until it came back to bite you in the ass,” Winchester answered.

“Didn’t keep you from making a mess, did it? Did he tell you how prettily he begged and screamed on the rack? I’ll tell you that’s Hell on your soul, quite literally. If only you could look at him like I do, see the beautiful ribbons and shreds, half healed scars even after years, but then, that pales in comparison to Sam, doesn’t it?”

At that moment, Gillian realized that Cal had only gotten half a sentence in, and that this was not a sparring match at all. This was just a complicated ruse to goad Winchester into acting irrationally.

“Don’t listen to her.”

She tried to plead with the young man even though it was a lost cause against the horrific images Meg painted with her words.

“Poor little baby brother, all alone in the pit, with Lucifer for company… how many shreds do you think are left of Sammy? Do you think he screams your name, curses you, because he took the fall for something you started?”

Gillian sensed the tension running taut through every muscle of Winchester’s body, and it felt almost like a tremor was rumbling through the ground.

“You bitch, don’t you dare…”

“And still, there you are, Dean Winchester, ever the hero. If not for you two, he would have let me rip him to shreds already, take the remains of his tattered soul back to Hell where he belongs.”

Dean balled his hands to fists and the pulse at his neck throbbed, but other than rocking half an inch on his toes, he didn’t move.

“And I don’t know, maybe if he would listen closely enough, he’d be able to hear Sammy scream.”

Gillian knew the exact moment Dean snapped, his face contorting into a grimace of grief, pain and rage that she had never witnessed before. He roared and came at her swinging, all thoughts of spells and protection forgotten, and she was waiting for him, a predatory glint in her eyes. They crashed into each other and against the wall, but before anything else could happen, the overhead light exploded with a flurry of shards and sparks and the door blew inwards and halfway off its hinges making her and Cal stumble against the table in the corner. A man appeared in the open doorway with a grave expression and long purposeful strides. The demon turned around, and when she spotted the new arrival, her eyes grew large, and she uttered an emphatic “Ho, SHIT!” Then Gillian witnessed how Saunders threw her head back, and a cloud of filthy black smoke erupted from her mouth. The blonde folded to the side like a house of cards, while Winchester slid down the wall in a heap, ragged breath and a tear track running down the corner of his eye. He let his head fall back against the wall with an audible thump and looked blearily up to the man who laid his hand on his shoulder to get his attention. He didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed that an entity that had made the most grievous threats against their lives just moments ago had taken one short look at the other man and bailed on the spot.

“Cas, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“You’re not an easy man to find if I have no means of contacting you Dean,” the look that Winchester threw the man spoke volumes about how that was the point exactly, “however, the public spectacle of your arrest and imminent trial proved to be very fortunate indeed.”

Gillian tried to puzzle out what was so off about this man, since he looked perfectly ordinary in his suit and trench coat, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Winchester, however, seemed to know perfectly well who he was talking to while he slowly scrambled to his feet.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

The pinched look around the man’s mouth was the first true sign of human emotion that she could read, Gillian realized. Up until now, his features had stayed eerily blank.

“This you will want to hear, Dean.”

Winchester straightened slowly and looked at the man expectantly with narrowed eyes.

“I found Sam.”

For a split second, she saw Dean’s legs give out, before he caught himself again, balanced by a hand on his elbow.

“You’re… no, you… you can’t. Don’t…”

“It’s the truth, Dean, he’s here. He’s al… he’s here.”

It was as if time had stopped for a moment while Dean’s eyes flew over the stranger’s face, searching even for the smallest hint of deceit, and when he didn’t seem to find it, a marvellous transformation went over his features. Years seemed to fall away from him like seconds, and the lines that pain and grief had etched into his face lightened in an instant. He grabbed the other man by the arm and shook him slightly.

“What are you waiting for then, get me out of here, now.”

Gillian had no idea how they were going to just walk out of a high security prison, but she knew that this would be her only chance to get a word in.

“Wait, you can’t just leave like that!”

Dean turned and looked at them as if he’d forgotten their very existence until this moment, but when he met her eyes, a cocky grin lit up his face that allowed her to finally recognize the confident young man staring into the camera of a police interrogation room.

“Oh, watch me, lady.”

“But how are we going to explain this? We don’t even know your whole story yet! There is so much more…”

“I’m sorry, I really am, normally I don’t like leaving loose ends like this, but this can’t wait, so you’re just going to have to go read the books.”

Gillian wanted to protest, but before she could get any more words out, the sound of fluttering feathers filled the air, and both Dean Winchester and the strange man had vanished, literally in the blink of an eye. They stared at the empty space and then each other, and Gillian vaguely registered in the back of her head that Cal Lightman had apparently been stunned speechless for the first time in his life. The silence was broken by a low groan from the floor where Saunders was slowly returning to consciousness. She lifted herself up on her elbows and blinked owlishly at them.

“What… happened?”

In that moment, shouts could suddenly be heard from the corridor and seconds later, guards stormed through the blasted door with raised guns and panicked expressions at the carnage in the room. When they noticed their prisoner was gone and the interrogation room had been trashed, there was some more shouting and threats of more carnage. In light of the day she’d just had, Gillian didn’t find it all that exciting, truth be told. But then, this was not quite a normal day at the office anyway.

Weeks Later

Gillian sat at her desk and turned over the last pages of the loosely bound stack of paper in front of her. The aftermath of ‘the Winchester Affair’ as it had been dubbed in certain circles had rocked quite a few boats and involved a lot of really fast talking that even Lightman could count himself proud of. Mostly, the higher ups were interested in letting the public relations inferno over the escape of an alleged psychotic serial killer die a swift and thorough death. The Lightman Group – in lieu of their review – had found a whole host of inconsistencies with the case that led to all but a few charges being thrown out. That did not exactly win them any points with the FBI or the DA’s office, but in search for the truth you couldn’t bend the rules just because you didn’t like what you got. Dean Winchester was still a fugitive and person of interest in many open cases, but the priority of the chase had been shoved to the bottom of the barrel.

As for the … other… things, Gillian and Lightman had pointedly ‘not talked about’ those, but she knew well enough that he had secretly gone back to scouring his old field studies and ancient anthropology books for clues as to which myths and legends had the potential to be out to get you for real, and she was quite certain that he’d found out that Bigfoot was indeed a hoax. As for herself, she couldn’t put Dean’s last words out of her mind, and on a whim decided to search outside of the scientific or criminalistic parameters. A simple web search made her stumble upon the underground cult series ‘Supernatural’ by Carver Edlund, which was quite frankly an eye opener concerning everything that had transpired. After a few discreet calls, she had even come in contact with the publisher that maintained the reclusive author’s estate and acquired exclusive copies of the later, unpublished works. After reading the last few pages on how a car had saved the world from certain doom, half of her still wasn’t quite sure whether or not the whole encounter had been a very elaborate hallucination – the kind that a rational mind would explain away with either a whole bunch of restricted substances or a serious blow to the head. But a different part of her was looking forward to the possibility that the Lightman Group might encounter the Winchesters again in the future to spar for the truth once more. Meanwhile, there was this chest from her great-grand-aunt that had been rattling around her mother’s attic ever since she could remember…

The end

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insane-songbird.livejournal.com

HAHAHAHHAHAHA!!! So Gillian is gonna ghost-hunt around her mom's attic? awesome!

I liked the way way you made it all play out. Liked the Dresden-esk bits too. Hehehe

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