Woman in White sample submission

It was happening again. No matter how many times she had this nightmare, how hard she fought against it, Sam had to live through it every time it happened. It started the same way every time. She walked into the apartment she shared with her boyfriend Jesse, dropping her purse on one of the chairs in the living room and shrugging out of her jacket. She headed into their bedroom next, calling for Jesse when she saw the bed was empty. It was late, as the glowing red numbers on the clock next to their bed attested. It was a bit surprising that Jesse wasn’t asleep in bed. Maybe he was pulling an all-nighter again.

With a sigh, she flopped backwards onto the bed, drawing her knees up so her feet rested on the edge. She felt so tired, though never knew quite why in this nightmare. It was only after closing her eyes that Sam felt the first warm drops hit her forehead. It felt like rain but that couldn’t be, right? Unless there was a leak in the apartment above? And every time, Sam knew what would meet her eyes when she opened them but she had no choice. Up above her, impossibly laying on the ceiling, was Jesse. His mouth was open in a silent scream and blood dripped from his belly. It had stained the white t-shirt he was wearing in a large circle, turning almost black now in the dark. The blood had just gotten to the waistband of his pale blue boxers, staining them red in an ever-widening blotch.

“Sam,” Jesse whispered, as his eyes filled with tears.

“No, no,” Sam yelled, sitting bolt upright as Jesse burst into flames above her. “JESSE!”

A noise from the living room woke Sam up panting, one hand pushing limp and sweat-soaked hair away from her face. She quickly glanced to her side and breathed out a sigh of relief to see Jesse snoring away quietly on his side of the bed. Tonight, he was wearing a pair of Ghostbusters boxers that she’d teased him about before. Definitely not the white t-shirt and pale blue boxers from her nightmare. Jesse had merely grinned and shrugged, telling her that he wasn’t the one who had the movies and the animated cartoon on DVD. Another noise followed by a muffled grunt set all of Sam’s instincts humming. Whatever had just broken into her apartment was going to regret it.

Quietly, Sam slipped out of bed and headed towards the living room. She walked carefully, placing each step precisely as she went. Another noise drew her towards the kitchen where a shadow stood hunched over the table. Sucking in a breath, Sam raised her arms up and fell into a fighting stance just as the figure started towards her. She kicked at it, expelling the breath noisily. The figure blocked her kick easily and shoved at her shoulders, pushing her back into the living room. It stalked after her, gait somewhat familiar, but Sam had no time to think about that. She blocked punches while trying to land her own, grunting quietly when a few landed on her arms. Only a few seconds after the fight started, the figure pulled an extremely familiar move, grabbing her arms and sweeping her feet out from underneath her. Sam hit the floor underneath the figure, grunting at the impact.

“Whoa, easy tiger,” a woman’s voice chuckled as she pinned Sam’s arms to her chest.

“De?” Sam asked incredulously, the familiarity confirmed by her older sister’s voice. She shoved at Deanna’s arms, trying to push the older woman off of her. “Get off me. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I need your help,” Deanna replied, sitting back and letting Sam loose. They stood up at the same time, Deanna grinning at her younger sister. “You’re rusty, sis. I can’t believe I took you out like that.”

“No, you’re not getting my help,” Sam snapped, rubbing at her wrists as she stood up. She glared at Deanna, words getting tangled on her tongue. There was so much she wanted to say, one epic argument she wanted to have, but Jesse was still asleep. She didn’t want to wake him up. “Not after what happened between me and Dad. Where were you when I needed your help?”

“Um, am I interrupting something?” Jesse’s voice cut in, clearing his throat as he walked into the living room. “Sam, who’s this and what is she doing here?”

“I’m Deanna, Sam’s older sister,” Deanna replied, taking one step towards Jesse and grinning at him. She swept her eyes up and down his body, just barely short of a leer. “And let me tell you, you are way out of my sister’s league. Love the Ghostbusters by the way. As to what I’m doing here, family business. Mind if we talk privately for a minute?”

“No, no,” Sam said, walking over to Jesse and wrapping an arm around his waist. He looked from her to Deanna and back, confusion writ across his face. “Whatever you have to say, you can say to both of us.”

“Well, it’s about dad. He hasn’t been home in a few days,” Deanna replied, making a tsk’ing noise on the last word.

“You know dad, De, he’s probably working overtime on a Miller Time shift,” Sam scoffed, shaking her head. Was this why she’d come here and interrupted the normal life Sam had been working so hard to build? “He’ll probably stumble on in in a few days or so.”

“Let me reiterate,” Deanna said, voice lowering as her eyes turned serious. She pinned Sam with that look and Sam felt the first rumblings of fear deep in her belly. “Dad’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

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The throaty rumble of the Impala’s engine competed with Led Zeppelin on the radio as Deanna drove down the road. It was still dark out, only about an hour after she’d broken into Sam’s apartment. It had taken Sam about twenty minutes to convince Jesse that she had to go and that she couldn’t really explain. Just family business. A quick shower later, Sam threw enough clothes for a couple days into a duffel bag that had lived under her bed and they were on their way.

“I still can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” Sam said, breaking the silence that had been between them.

“Come on, Sami, it’ll be just like old times,” Deanna replied, shooting an amused glance at her sister. “Besides, you stay out of the life too long, anything can come along and take you out. Look at how quickly you went down.”

“I hate when you say my name like that. I can hear the I at the end,” Sam replied hotly, glaring at Deanna. “It’s Sam. Sami is a chubby twelve year old girl with acne who puts little hearts above her I’s. So what was Dad hunting when he went missing?”

“I don’t know,” Deanna admitted, shaking her head. “I was on a hunt of my own. All I know is before he went silent, I got a text from him. All it said was Jericho, California. I’ve tried calling all his cells but they’re all going to voicemail.”

“Dad lets you hunt by yourself?” Sam asked, snorting. She reached out and turned down the music, fed up with classic rock for now.

“I’m 26, honey, I can handle a hunt on my own,” Deanna replied indignantly, letting the radio slide for now. This wasn’t one of her favorite songs anyway and they needed to talk. “I know what alias he was using so I decided to come get you and go find him.”

“You don’t need me for this,” Sam pointed out, rolling her eyes. She’d worked too hard to get out of the hunter life to get drawn back in now. There was too much riding on her choices. “You could have done all this on your own.”

“I didn’t need you, no,” Deanna admitted. She didn’t glance to the side this time, a little embarrassed by the admission. It wasn’t often she let her feelings show. “But I wanted you here. Besides, it’s one little hunt close by. Have you back in a few days.”

“I need to be back by Monday morning,” Sam corrected her, staring sharply at Deanna. “I have a law interview on Monday. My whole future rides on it, De, and I can’t miss it.”

“Fine, fine,” Deanna mumbled, reaching out and turning the radio back up as Ramble On came on. They rode in silence for the rest of the trip, the sun rising as they passed a sign on the side of the road that said Jericho - 3 Miles. They pulled into a gas station to fill up the Impala, Deanna gleefully passing over the credit card for Sam to fill up the car. It showed a very different name than what Deanna’s really was and Sam glared at her. Deanna just shrugged and headed into the store. She came back out just before Sam was done filling the Impala, arms full of beef jerky and twinkies. As they got back on the road, Sam dug through the salty and sweet mess, looking for something even remotely healthy.

By the time they got to a motel, Sam had given up looking for anything healthy and was staring out the window. Deanna was munching on a twinkie, a half-empty bag of beef jerky on the seat between her legs. The motel was just like any of the hundred other ones the sisters had stayed in over the years: slightly run-down, maybe a little seedy, and definitely a place to lock your doors at night. It felt like home to Deanna as it was the only one she’d known since she was four. To Sam, it just felt like memories she was still trying to outrun.

“Stay here, Sami, I’ll get a room,” Deanna announced as she stepped out of the car. Sam just rolled her eyes, biting back the words she was going to say. Besides, it was comforting to hear Deanna call her Sami. It reminded her of some of the best memories of her childhood. She busied herself with checking her phone, not at all surprised that Jesse hadn’t texted yet. He’d probably gone back to sleep after she’d left and Sam wished she could have done the same.

“Amshir?” the clerk asked when Deanna handed over her fake credit card. “There a reunion of you guys in town or something?”

“Why do you ask?” Deanna asked, tilting her head slightly to the side as she smiled warmly at the clerk.

“I got another Amshir checked in,” the clerk explained, handing the card back. “Booked the room for a month. You know him?”

Deanna nodded and got the room number from the clerk. It saved her money for now since she could bs her way into explaining she was meeting a relative here. The clerk handed over a key and Deanna headed back out to the Impala, parking it in front of the room. Sam got out and grabbed her duffel bag from the back seat while Deanna grabbed hers from the trunk. They both stared around in surprise at the room once Deanna let them in. The walls were nearly covered in news articles and pictures, some pages covered with their father’s neat handwriting. There wasn’t really an order to the whole mess but both women were trained in picking out patterns from seeming randomness.

“Looks like Dad found what he was hunting,” Sam announced from the wall she’d walked to. A picture from an old book was tacked up next to a news article about a young woman who’d drowned her children and then committed suicide. “A woman in white.”

“The article say who she was?” Deanna asked, stepping up beside Sam and nudging her over so she could read the article. It seemed to be the standard article for this type of story. Lots of “loving wife”, “good family”, “surprise to her family”, “tragedy to be so young”. She tapped another article near the first one, a list of men who’d disappeared on a deserted stretch of road. “Woman in white’s basically just a ghost. We salt and burn the bones, no more disappearances like these.”

“Looks like the woman was cremated,” Sam said distractedly, skimming through the article. “Look here though. Husband of the deceased, Mark, says “It was all my fault. I should have stopped it.” You know what I think happened?”

“What’s that?” Deanna asked, rolling her eyes. She couldn’t find anything odd about the article though there was nothing to explain why the ghost had become a Woman in White. Maybe just murdering her kids?

“I think the husband cheated and she found out,” Sam replied, excitement making her talk faster. “I think that’s why she murdered the kids then herself. Does it in a fit of jealous rage then comes to her senses and feels guilty. Jumps off a bridge because she can’t deal with it.”

“Okay, yeah, I can see that,” Deanna nodded thoughtfully, staring at the picture of the woman with her kids. “Bam, instant recipe for Woman in White. So, if she was cremated, how we going to get rid of her? Bones are already burned.”

“Maybe the husband has something?” Sam suggested. She turned to Deanna and shrugged. “Could be anything. Maybe a lock of hair or an object Melissa here was attached to. We should go talk to him and find out.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan. How about one minor adjustment,” Deanna tapped a finger on her lips, reading through the article again. “I go talk to Mark and you scout the house. Seems a bit suspicious, doncha think, that that stretch of road eventually passes by the house she killed the kids in? Maybe whatever she’s attached to is there.”

Sam nodded, grabbing the duffel bag she’d dumped on the bed and picking out the hiking boots she’d packed. The jeans and t-shirt she’d thrown on after her shower were good enough for poking around an abandoned house. But she had to do something about her hair. A ponytail like the one she was wearing was just begging some monster to grab and throw her with it. Grabbing the brush in her bag, Sam headed into the bathroom.

Deanna followed suit after one last glance at the photo, pulling out the suit she’d packed. It was a simple suit, black slacks with a black, pinstriped jacket. Her favorite blue button down shirt would be enough to complete the professional look. A journalist sniffing out a story to make a deadline wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility. Especially not a scandalous story like this one. She dressed quickly, shifting from foot to foot impatiently as Sam took forever in the bathroom. Finally, Deanna got fed up with it and pounded on the door.

“Come on, Sami, there’s no mirror out here,” Deanna called through the door. “I can’t act like a reporter with messed-up, windblown hair. Hurry up in there.”

“De, I need your help a second,” Sam called back, opening the door on the last word. Her hair was down around her shoulders and she wore a frustrated expression. “I’m trying to French braid my hair but I can’t quite manage it. Can you help me?”

Deanna nodded and stepped in the bathroom. She ran the brush through Sam’s hair a few times then deftly divided the hair on the crown of her head into three parts. Braiding quickly, Deanna added in more hair as she moved down from the crown and to the back of Sam’s head. It wasn’t long before Deanna started humming quietly, unaware she was doing so. Sam tilted her head, ignoring the tug Deanna gave her hair as she studied her sister in the mirror.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Sam observed quietly, meeting Deanna’s eyes as they snapped up to the mirror. “When did you learn? And what are you humming?”

“Mom used to braid my hair like this,” Deanna said, more breath than voice. “She’d hum while she did it. I picked that up from her. After she died, Dad refused to braid my hair. Said it reminded him too much of her. So I learned how to do it myself, for the same reason.”

“I wish I remembered her,” Sam murmured, staring down at the sink as Deanna finished braiding her hair.

“There, done,” Deanna said, clearing her throat and pushing Sam over so she could stand in front of the mirror. Sam just nodded, putting a hand on Deanna’s shoulder for a moment. They stood there silently then Deanna turned away and started pulling the brush roughly through her hair. It was a light brown, a few shades lighter than Sam’s, and cut short around her face. While Deanna worked, Sam wound the braid around her head like a crown and pinned it tightly in place. Nothing could grab it now and Sam rather liked the look of it. They finished about the same time, Deanna snorting at Sam’s hair crown before they headed out to the Impala.

The ride out to the house Mark now called home was silent, this time Sam driving. Deanna fussed with her makeup in the car, carefully tracing her lips with lip liner before applying a bright shade of red to her lips. She lined her eyes with black eyeliner, sweeping the line out to the side just enough to make her eyes seem bigger. While her father hadn’t known a thing about makeup, he’d taught both of his girls to make use of any weapon that fell into their hands. And makeup was one that both Winchesters enjoyed using to its fullest. Sam dropped Deanna off and drove away, changing the station to a pop one. What Deanna didn’t know, she couldn’t rib her about.

“Hello, Mark Rodgers?” Deanna called out as she walked up towards a faded, white-washed house. There was a man in old, oil-stained clothes wiping oil off a wrench. He looked up at Deanna’s voice, suspicion narrowing his eyes.

“Can I help you?” he asked, turning to face Deanna.

“My name’s Deanna Amshir, I’m with the local paper,” Deanna said with her brightest smile. She nodded at Mark and took a breath when the guy relaxed a little. “I wanted to write a story about the tragedy that happened in your life. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Dunno why you’d want to after twenty years but sure, why not?” Mark replied tiredly, gesturing with the hand still holding the rag. “Ask away.”

“Tell me, did you see any of it coming?” Deanna asked, pulling out a pen and a small notebook. “Were there any signs of what your wife was going to do?”

“No, there was nothing that I saw. Though I should have. It all seems so obvious in hindsight,” Mark sighed and walked to the porch, settling on the top step. Deanna sat next to him, perched with the notebook on one knee. “It’s all my fault.”

“Why do you say that?” Deanna asked, looking up curiously.

“Just... things I did, things I didn’t do,” Mark hedged, shifting uncomfortably on the step.

“Like having an affair?” Deanna hazarded, holding up one hand in a soothing gesture when Mark rounded on her. “It’s just a question. Seems a little odd, though, a woman killing her children. Seems personal, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, yeah, I had an affair,” Mark murmured, regret flashing across his face. “Melissa found out that afternoon before. We had a huge screaming fight and I walked out. When I came back, the kids were dead and Melissa was gone. The police told me she jumped off the bridge on the edge of town.”

“I’m sorry,” Deanna said as it seemed to be the only thing to say. “The article I saw before says she was cremated. Did you keep anything of hers, maybe a lock of hair, to remember her by? Sentiment, you know?”

“No, nothing like that,” Mark shook his head. “Everything of Melissa’s stayed in our old house. I couldn’t stand looking at it. Moved out the next day and took my stuff with me. I haven’t been back in twenty years.”

“Thank you for your time,” Deanna said, standing up and putting away her notebook. While it was a little frustrating that whatever the ghost was attached to wasn’t here, at least it confirmed that they were hunting a Woman in White. “Have a good day, Mr. Rodgers.”

Mark waved at her and headed into the house, slamming the door behind him. Deanna walked back down the driveway, pulling out her phone to call Sam. She frowned at her phone when all that happened was a single ring followed by static. There was almost a voice in that static, a whisper that Deanna couldn’t catch no matter how hard she tried.

“Shit, what the hell did you get into, Sami?” Deanna whispered to herself as she dialed the number for a local cab company. She had a bad feeling Sam had found the ghost they were hunting.

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Sam turned down the music when she turned onto the road all the guys had been disappearing on. It seemed like the rest of the roads she’d driven down: tree-lined, idyllic, and quiet. As she drove, Sam looked for tire tracks in the shoulder or breaks in the trees but there was nothing. She was just about to call Deanna and let her know she was almost to the house when a chill went down her back. It felt like cold hands dragging fingers down her spine. Looking in the rearview mirror, Sam caught her breath as the ghost stared back at her. She had dark brown hair down to her shoulders and piercing blue eyes that had faded a little in death.

“Take me home,” the ghost implored, her voice breathy and sultry. “I’m so cold.”

“No,” Sam replied, shaking her head. She tried to stop the car but the Impala merely kept going. When she tried for the doors, the locks clicked down. Squaring her shoulders, Sam continued to try and stop the Impala to no avail. It turned a corner and pulled up to a run-down house, nearly falling down.

“I can never go home,” the ghost whispered sadly. She flickered out of sight and Sam whipped around to examine the backseat. There wasn’t even an indent in the seat, nothing to show that the ghost had been there. When she turned back around, the ghost was straddling her lap with a terrifying grimace.

“You can’t hurt me,” Sam gasped, pushing back into her seat in an effort to get away from the ghost. “I’ve never been unfaithful and that’s your schtick right? Besides, I’m not exactly interested.”

“You will be,” the ghost promised, leaning down and pressing her lips to Sam’s. Sam struggled against it, trying to push the ghost away. Yet it didn’t help, her hands going through the translucent being. The ghost snarled against her lips, one hand clawing at Sam’s chest. Sam screamed, the sound accompanied by a pounding on the window. Turning her head, Sam saw Deanna peering into the window holding a handgun. Sam screamed again when the ghost slammed her other hand into her chest and Deanna shot through the window. The ghost flickered out of existence for a moment then reappeared, snarling at Deanna before the elder Winchester shot her again.

“You want to go home,” Sam gasped, putting the Impala in gear. “Let’s get you home.”

The car shot forward as Sam slammed the accelerator into the floor, bursting through the side of the house and slamming into a ragged couch in the middle of the living room. Deanna shouted and ran after the car. Melissa appeared near the couch, glaring at the sisters. Sam stumbled out of the car after grabbing the gun Deanna kept in the glove box. They faced off the ghost, wondering how they were going to defeat her. Maybe burn the whole house down? But the question was answered for them when a little voice piped up from the stairway.

“Mommy, you came home,” a little girl’s voice said. Two children stood at the top of the stairs, a boy and a girl, staring down at Melissa. They were dripping wet, their clothes hanging from their frames. “We’re happy to see you Mommy.”

Melissa screamed as the children flickered down next to her, hugging her. She continued to scream as they started to melt, her voice distorting as they faded down to the floorboards. The Winchesters couldn’t believe their eyes as Melissa and the children turned to a puddle of water that disappeared within a few seconds. After that, the only sound in the house was their panicked breathing.

“What made you think shooting Casper was a good idea, De?” Sam asked, turning to her sister with an incredulous look on her face.

“Worked, didn’t it?” Deanna shrugged, smirking. “Distracted her so you could drive in here. She was hot, though. Too bad she was murderous”

“New type, De?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at her sister. “Never knew you to like tall girls with dark hair and blue eyes.”

“Well, the loins want what the loins want, Sami,” Deanna replied airily, shrugging. Then she turned to the Impala, inspecting the front end. “I swear to God, if there’s even one scratch on my baby...”

Sam just laughed, the sound a touch hysteric as adrenaline still pounded through her veins. She could still feel the pain of Melissa’s claws on her chest, still feel like her hands were digging into her skin. Deanna got into the driver’s seat, gesturing impatiently for Sam to get in the car and they backed out carefully. There was a little damage to the Impala but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. While she drove, Deanna pulled out her phone to check for messages. There was a new text message and she caught her breath when she saw the sender.

“Dad,” she murmured, opening the text. It was a set of coordinates, something John had done quite a few times before to let them know where he was. She showed the phone to Sam when the other woman raised an eyebrow at her. “Looks like dad’s all right after all.”

“Great,” Sam replied, dismissing the coordinates after looking at the sender. “Now, let’s get me back so I can go to that interview.”

Deanna didn’t argue, recognizing the determined tone in Sam’s voice. They drove in silence back to the motel to gather their things and check out. Deanna played Metallica on the way back to Sam’s apartment, humming along with the songs that she knew. Sam slept, trying to catch up on the sleep Deanna had interrupted. They pulled up at Sam’s apartment late at night and Sam yawned as she grabbed her duffel bag from the back.

“Take care of yourself, De,” she said through the window. “Don’t get killed.”

“Aw, you know me, Sami,” Deanna replied, laughing. “I’ll be fine.”

Sam nodded and headed inside. Deanna drove off, feeling a sense of loss as she left her sister behind. Again. She turned the radio up louder, glaring at it when static fuzzed the station. It changed a few times, before dying completely. That pricked at her and Deanna turned the car around. She’d only gone a few blocks anyway and it wouldn’t hurt to make sure Sam was all right.

Sam headed upstairs and unlocked the door, dropping her duffel bag on one of the chairs in the living room. She shrugged out of her coat, dropping it on top. After heading into the bedroom, she called Jesse’s name, wondering where he was. Well, it was finals week. Maybe he was pulling an all-nighter. It wouldn’t be the first time. Sighing, she dropped onto the bed, pulling her knees up and resting her feet on the edge. She closed her eyes though a thread of unease ran through her. Why did this feel so familiar?

When the first drop hit her forehead, Sam felt her heart plummet. Not this. Anything but this. A few more drops hit her forehead and Sam reluctantly opened her eyes to see exactly what she knew she’d see. The blood staining Jesse’s shirt was even the same size as in her nightmares, the red just touching his boxers. Sam sat bolt upright, reaching up for Jesse.

“Sam,” Jesse whispered as flames blossomed around his body.

“No, no!” Sam yelled, still trying to reach for him despite the heat. “Jesse!”

“Sami, Sami we gotta go!” Deanna yelled as she barreled into the bedroom. She took one look upward, freezing for a moment as she saw the flames billowing around Jesse. Shock, horror, and a dawning comprehension lit her eyes as she watched. Then she was moving, grabbing Sam by the shoulders and pulling her bodily out of the room.

“No, Jesse, we can’t leave him,” Sam wailed as she struggled against Deanna’s hold. But her sister was stronger and had a good grip on her shoulders and Sam was dragged out of the whole apartment. It went up in flames not long after that, the other tenants gathering in a bedraggled group outside. Sam watched as firefighters put out the flames and one body was carted out in a black body bag. She hugged her sides, struggling to keep the sobs in as tears rolled down her face. Once Jesse’s body was gone, Sam turned to Deanna with fury and determination in her eyes.

“Let’s go,” she said flatly, getting into the Impala. “We got work to do.”