Supernatural... But Better (Vol. I)

Chapter Thirty Four

"So, what is all this stuff, anyway?

We were sitting around a table, stuffing little bags with a bunch of herbs and roots and things.

Missouri glanced at Dean, continuing to fill her bag. "Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt, a few other odds and ends."

Tying up his bag, he set it with the little pile. "Yeah? What are we supposed to do with it?"

"We're gonna put them inside the walls in the north, south, east, west corners on each floor of the house," she explained.

Dean nodded slowly. "We'll be punchin' holes in the drywall. Jenny's gonna love that."

She side-eyed him. "She'll live."

Sam finished his, as well, looking at it. "And this'll destroy the spirits?"

Missouri nodded. "It should. It should purify the house completely. We'll each take a floor. But we work fast. Once the spirits realize what we're up to, things are gonna get bad."

I tied up my own bag, looking around the table. "And I will wait in the car. But if things take a turn for the worse—"

"No," Sam interrupted, shaking his head. "No. It's too dangerous."

"Okay, you do realize I managed to coexist in the same house as this thing for years and I'm still alive, right?"

He gave me a look. "Yes, I do."

Leaning back in my chair, I sighed. "Just checking. Look, all I'm saying is, if worse comes to worst, I know how to handle it. It's, like, the last option anyone would ever want to pick, but still preferable to anyone dying."

He didn't relent. "Well, I can say we most likely won't need it, so thanks, but don't worry about it."

Sam looked away from me then, assuming the conversation was over, and, in a way, he was right. I knew he would never actively let me put myself in harm's way, even — and probably especially — if it was in order to save him. But I also knew that the situation was entirely my fault, and I wouldn't allow anyone else to pay for my mistakes. It didn't matter how many times he told me no, if it came down to it, and someone had to get hurt, I would make absolutely sure that person was me. Of course, the best case scenario was still that they could do it without my help, and we'd all get to walk away, and I held out hope that it'd work out that way.

I looked at Missouri, then, finding her gaze already fixed on me. No doubt she was busy reading my mind and hearing all about my plans. When our eyes met, she gave me a small nod— not something anyone else would notice, but enough. Enough to let me know that she understood, and that she wouldn't tell them what I was going to do. And, maybe... maybe it was enough to solidify my decision, that if things went sour, I wasn't going to hold back.