‹ Prequel: Broken Hero.
The Price Of Prom Night.
The Price Of Prom Night.
A gunshot rang out in the air, making Beth jump and her nerves increase. Several gun shots followed the beginning one. Her body froze, feet glued to the spot. Terror swam through her body via her bloodstream. She always flinched at gunshots in the movies, but this was certainly no movie. She heard a heavy panting from behind her, and branches snapping as the pressure of a foot was applied to them. Slowly, she turned around, tears falling down onto her rose cheeks as the fear took over her.
Nothing.
She froze again on the spot, just turning her head to her left, squinting to see between the trees and discover where the gunshots or the heavy panting came from, but with little look. She turned her head to the right, and continued the same position as she looked through the trees. It was a lot easier for her this time, as the moonlight shone directly on that side of the woods, causing the trees to leave silhouettes on the ground.
One single silhouette stood out to her, it certainly wasn’t the right shape to be the shadow of a tree, but it was too deformed for her to determine its exact shape. It was only until it started to slowly moving towards her, the cracking branches starting up again with the heavy panting in unison, that she realised that danger still surrounded her.
Her pace quickened along with her pulse, her heavy panting was disguised by the wind fighting its way through the air. She didn’t know what was following her, and she didn’t exactly want to find out either. She stumbled over the tree branches, her pale white skin soon becoming unflattering shades of purple, blue and black after many collisions with lower hanging braches, or the trunks of the trees. Her side began to ache, feeling like every time her foot hit the ground it triggered her skin to rip open a fresh wound.
Hearing more gunshots, she began to run even faster, and stumbled even more on the branches. She was being chased into the dark, where she couldn’t see anything, where the moonlight failed to hit. She staggered once again, ending up smashing her face up against one of the copious roots of the trees, and managing to twist her ankle as she fell. She lifted herself up, feeling the blood trickle down her wrists from her grazed hands, and half-crawled-half-dragged herself up behind one of the corpulent trunk of one of the trees.
She rested her head and back against the tree, and slowly managed to catch and sustain her breath into a regular breathing pattern. She gulped slowly, closing her eyes whilst trying clear her mind of the pain she felt searing through her body. As the silence surrounding her got to her, she braced herself and began to slide herself around the tree to gain a view to the other side, covering her hand wounds with the cuff of her jacket. The trees were calm, blowing slowly in the calm breeze and the moonlight was managing to break through the canopy of the trees. A shadow fell over her, falling across her face. Her breathing quickened again, and she quickly stumbled to her face, and began to run forward, but was soon stopped when two hands grabbed Beth’s shoulders firmly from in front of her.
“Whoa. Easy tiger.” A familiar masculine voice said to her, shining their torch up into her face. “Wow. You look bad.” It was then she realised who it was with her - it was Max Sheppard, a reporter for some newspaper she had never heard of, him and his partner had the cheek to come and talk to her after the death of her friend Kate. She began looking around to where Max was shining his torch, and saw his partner, Scott Harris walking over with some sort of rifle in his hand. “Did you get it?”
Scott shook his head, before turning to look at the girl his partner was with, “Are you okay Beth?” he asked, instantly recognising her. Not waiting for a reply, he turned back to face Max. “Its still out there. We’ve gotta get Beth to a safe place before we even begin to tackle it again.”
“What’s still out there?” Beth’s voice croaked, causing a pain to strike her windpipe as she spoke. Max and Scott shared a glance before turning back to face her.
“Do you want the truth-truth or a sugar-coated-Disney truth?” Max asked her, before lifting up a rifle identical to the one Scott carried.
“Truth-truth” She said firmly, watching the pair carefully as they began re-filling their rifles with ammo.
“Well, for starters, that’s one pissed off spirit which seems to want your head on a stick.” Max said, receiving a shove off Scott straight away.
“We’re actually brothers,” Scott filled in for Max, “Sam and Dean Winchester. We’re not reporters, but more hunters. Just not your normal kind of hunting. Dean’s right, that is some kind of spirit, and it does seem to be going after you. Do you know anyone who died who would have had a grudge on you? Maybe a boyfriends ex, or an old friend?”
“Not that I can think of.” Beth said quietly.
“Can you walk?” Dean asked her, flashing the torch around again so he could see her shake her head. He muttered to Sam quietly enough so that Beth couldn’t hear him before turning back to face her. “Could you hobble or hop at all?” She nodded in reply, and Dean slung her arm over his shoulder, and began walking for the both of them, supporting most of her weight. In his left hand, he held the rifle, keeping one finger on the trigger. His other arm was wrapped around Beth’s waist, and held the torch with that hand, which he made sure shone directly in front of him and Beth.
“Come on, we haven’t got long.” Sam said, taking the lead in front of Beth and Dean, “Beth, think carefully about who could be after you, and then we can help you.”
Their strides soon became quicker, as they got deeper and deeper into the woods, still no sign of the spirit lurking around them. Around ten minutes later after walking, the wind gained strength, making the trees branches collide with each other. Dean and Sam glanced into the others direction, before simultaneously looking at Beth.
“Keep your eyes peeled, it may be around.” Dean said. Beth was unsure whether he was talking to her or Sam, but she cautiously looked around like Sam was also doing. A snap of a branch caught their attention, and all looking forward at almost the same time, they saw the spirit of a girl looking at them.
A girl with dirty blonde wavy hair tied into a bow on the back of her head, yet with a few strands falling loose, her wrists stained crimson with deep black cuts across them, and the same crimson colour spilling down a cream satin dress. Around her neck she wore a necklace with a small diamante on it, her neck was marked with deep purple bruising and red friction marks as if a rope had been tied tightly around her neck. She began slowly walking towards them, looking directly at Beth. Her walk quickened, soon turning into a run, making her inches away from the three in a matter of seconds. As she lunged for Beth, Dean raised his shotgun from his side and shot girl, causing her to disappear in a vapour of smoke.
“That was Nikki.” Beth said quietly, “She committed suicide the night of our prom.”
“Why is she after you, and your friend Kate, Beth?” Sam asked her.
“She had dated this guy, Tom, but they broke up about a month before prom. He asked me to prom two weeks later, and Kate insisted I went with him. So I did. When we turned up at prom, Nikki kicked off, and Kate had a go at her - told her to get used to it, get used to the fact that she wasn’t with Tom and I was. The next day, some tourists found her hanging in this woods, she had slit her wrists before hanging herself.”
“I’m sorry.” Sam said, “But where is she buried?”
“The local cemetery. What’s in that?” Beth asked, pointing to the rifle Dean held, “And why did she disappear when you shot her? Is she dead?”
“Rock salt,” Dean explained, “It doesn’t kill a spirit, but it repels it. Now, we better get going before that bitch comes back” He added, before beginning to walk again but only in the direction they had came from, still supporting Beth. Around fifteen minutes later, the woods came to a clearing, and Dean and Sam headed straight for a black Chevrolet Impala. Both of them helped Beth into the backseat, before giving her a small cloth to try and stop the bleeding from her nose with.
“Do you want a lift home?” Dean asked her, as they unhurriedly pulled away from their parked spot, and away from the woods.
“But what about Nikki? She’s still out there isn’t she?” Beth asked.
“We’re going to burn her bones.” Sam explained, “It’s the only way of stopping a spirit and putting their souls at rest. By burning the remains.”
“It’s a nasty job, but it has to be done.” Dean said grimly, “So, mind telling me where we can drop you off at? Preferably somewhere no-where near the woods.”
“I’m coming with you.” Beth said firmly, “I need to know myself that this is over. No objections.” She said, watching Dean open his mouth to retaliate in the wing mirror of the car.
“Fine. But after that, straight home.” Dean said, turning around to look at her, “Or possibly the emergency room. Your nose could be broken.” She agreed to Dean’s new terms, and sat silently in the backseat for the rest of the journey, listening to the small talk Sam and Dean made between each other. They soon reached the gates to the cemetery, and both the brothers turned to face Beth.
“You sure about this?” Sam asked her, “It can get nasty.”
“I’m sure. That bitch killed my best friend, and almost killed me. Least I can do is make sure she’s never gonna hurt anyone else.” She said firmly, and then with the help of Sam, she walked with them, telling them whereabouts she was buried, and explaining that it was ten years ago since that prom night on the Friday of that week. When they reached the plot where Nikki was buried, Beth sat down by a tree, and watched the Winchester brothers dig up the grave of her old school friend. Tears rolled slowly down her face, remembering Nikki’s face when she saw her with Tom at the prom, what she had said to them, what they had said to her, and Kate’s final words to her
“Salt?” she said, shaking her head slightly trying to forget the memories flooding her mind. Beside the grave was a large mound of dirt, and Sam was pouring the contents of a tin pot onto the grave, which was a white powder that looked like salt. Dean was rooting through the duffel bag they both carried, muttering to himself as he looked for something
“Yeah, salt. It helps with making sure the soul is put to rest.” Sam explained, as Dean began pouring lighter fluid onto the corpse in the coffin. Once he had finished, Dean lit a match and held it over the open grave.
“Let me.” Beth insisted, limping over to the edge of the grave, and took the match from Dean’s hand. She ignored the looks Sam and Dean were giving her, held the glowing flame in front of her, before dropping it into the grave, and watching it fall through the air before watching the flames erupt the instant the match touched the petrol.
“Rest in peace, bitch.”
Nothing.
She froze again on the spot, just turning her head to her left, squinting to see between the trees and discover where the gunshots or the heavy panting came from, but with little look. She turned her head to the right, and continued the same position as she looked through the trees. It was a lot easier for her this time, as the moonlight shone directly on that side of the woods, causing the trees to leave silhouettes on the ground.
One single silhouette stood out to her, it certainly wasn’t the right shape to be the shadow of a tree, but it was too deformed for her to determine its exact shape. It was only until it started to slowly moving towards her, the cracking branches starting up again with the heavy panting in unison, that she realised that danger still surrounded her.
Her pace quickened along with her pulse, her heavy panting was disguised by the wind fighting its way through the air. She didn’t know what was following her, and she didn’t exactly want to find out either. She stumbled over the tree branches, her pale white skin soon becoming unflattering shades of purple, blue and black after many collisions with lower hanging braches, or the trunks of the trees. Her side began to ache, feeling like every time her foot hit the ground it triggered her skin to rip open a fresh wound.
Hearing more gunshots, she began to run even faster, and stumbled even more on the branches. She was being chased into the dark, where she couldn’t see anything, where the moonlight failed to hit. She staggered once again, ending up smashing her face up against one of the copious roots of the trees, and managing to twist her ankle as she fell. She lifted herself up, feeling the blood trickle down her wrists from her grazed hands, and half-crawled-half-dragged herself up behind one of the corpulent trunk of one of the trees.
She rested her head and back against the tree, and slowly managed to catch and sustain her breath into a regular breathing pattern. She gulped slowly, closing her eyes whilst trying clear her mind of the pain she felt searing through her body. As the silence surrounding her got to her, she braced herself and began to slide herself around the tree to gain a view to the other side, covering her hand wounds with the cuff of her jacket. The trees were calm, blowing slowly in the calm breeze and the moonlight was managing to break through the canopy of the trees. A shadow fell over her, falling across her face. Her breathing quickened again, and she quickly stumbled to her face, and began to run forward, but was soon stopped when two hands grabbed Beth’s shoulders firmly from in front of her.
“Whoa. Easy tiger.” A familiar masculine voice said to her, shining their torch up into her face. “Wow. You look bad.” It was then she realised who it was with her - it was Max Sheppard, a reporter for some newspaper she had never heard of, him and his partner had the cheek to come and talk to her after the death of her friend Kate. She began looking around to where Max was shining his torch, and saw his partner, Scott Harris walking over with some sort of rifle in his hand. “Did you get it?”
Scott shook his head, before turning to look at the girl his partner was with, “Are you okay Beth?” he asked, instantly recognising her. Not waiting for a reply, he turned back to face Max. “Its still out there. We’ve gotta get Beth to a safe place before we even begin to tackle it again.”
“What’s still out there?” Beth’s voice croaked, causing a pain to strike her windpipe as she spoke. Max and Scott shared a glance before turning back to face her.
“Do you want the truth-truth or a sugar-coated-Disney truth?” Max asked her, before lifting up a rifle identical to the one Scott carried.
“Truth-truth” She said firmly, watching the pair carefully as they began re-filling their rifles with ammo.
“Well, for starters, that’s one pissed off spirit which seems to want your head on a stick.” Max said, receiving a shove off Scott straight away.
“We’re actually brothers,” Scott filled in for Max, “Sam and Dean Winchester. We’re not reporters, but more hunters. Just not your normal kind of hunting. Dean’s right, that is some kind of spirit, and it does seem to be going after you. Do you know anyone who died who would have had a grudge on you? Maybe a boyfriends ex, or an old friend?”
“Not that I can think of.” Beth said quietly.
“Can you walk?” Dean asked her, flashing the torch around again so he could see her shake her head. He muttered to Sam quietly enough so that Beth couldn’t hear him before turning back to face her. “Could you hobble or hop at all?” She nodded in reply, and Dean slung her arm over his shoulder, and began walking for the both of them, supporting most of her weight. In his left hand, he held the rifle, keeping one finger on the trigger. His other arm was wrapped around Beth’s waist, and held the torch with that hand, which he made sure shone directly in front of him and Beth.
“Come on, we haven’t got long.” Sam said, taking the lead in front of Beth and Dean, “Beth, think carefully about who could be after you, and then we can help you.”
Their strides soon became quicker, as they got deeper and deeper into the woods, still no sign of the spirit lurking around them. Around ten minutes later after walking, the wind gained strength, making the trees branches collide with each other. Dean and Sam glanced into the others direction, before simultaneously looking at Beth.
“Keep your eyes peeled, it may be around.” Dean said. Beth was unsure whether he was talking to her or Sam, but she cautiously looked around like Sam was also doing. A snap of a branch caught their attention, and all looking forward at almost the same time, they saw the spirit of a girl looking at them.
A girl with dirty blonde wavy hair tied into a bow on the back of her head, yet with a few strands falling loose, her wrists stained crimson with deep black cuts across them, and the same crimson colour spilling down a cream satin dress. Around her neck she wore a necklace with a small diamante on it, her neck was marked with deep purple bruising and red friction marks as if a rope had been tied tightly around her neck. She began slowly walking towards them, looking directly at Beth. Her walk quickened, soon turning into a run, making her inches away from the three in a matter of seconds. As she lunged for Beth, Dean raised his shotgun from his side and shot girl, causing her to disappear in a vapour of smoke.
“That was Nikki.” Beth said quietly, “She committed suicide the night of our prom.”
“Why is she after you, and your friend Kate, Beth?” Sam asked her.
“She had dated this guy, Tom, but they broke up about a month before prom. He asked me to prom two weeks later, and Kate insisted I went with him. So I did. When we turned up at prom, Nikki kicked off, and Kate had a go at her - told her to get used to it, get used to the fact that she wasn’t with Tom and I was. The next day, some tourists found her hanging in this woods, she had slit her wrists before hanging herself.”
“I’m sorry.” Sam said, “But where is she buried?”
“The local cemetery. What’s in that?” Beth asked, pointing to the rifle Dean held, “And why did she disappear when you shot her? Is she dead?”
“Rock salt,” Dean explained, “It doesn’t kill a spirit, but it repels it. Now, we better get going before that bitch comes back” He added, before beginning to walk again but only in the direction they had came from, still supporting Beth. Around fifteen minutes later, the woods came to a clearing, and Dean and Sam headed straight for a black Chevrolet Impala. Both of them helped Beth into the backseat, before giving her a small cloth to try and stop the bleeding from her nose with.
“Do you want a lift home?” Dean asked her, as they unhurriedly pulled away from their parked spot, and away from the woods.
“But what about Nikki? She’s still out there isn’t she?” Beth asked.
“We’re going to burn her bones.” Sam explained, “It’s the only way of stopping a spirit and putting their souls at rest. By burning the remains.”
“It’s a nasty job, but it has to be done.” Dean said grimly, “So, mind telling me where we can drop you off at? Preferably somewhere no-where near the woods.”
“I’m coming with you.” Beth said firmly, “I need to know myself that this is over. No objections.” She said, watching Dean open his mouth to retaliate in the wing mirror of the car.
“Fine. But after that, straight home.” Dean said, turning around to look at her, “Or possibly the emergency room. Your nose could be broken.” She agreed to Dean’s new terms, and sat silently in the backseat for the rest of the journey, listening to the small talk Sam and Dean made between each other. They soon reached the gates to the cemetery, and both the brothers turned to face Beth.
“You sure about this?” Sam asked her, “It can get nasty.”
“I’m sure. That bitch killed my best friend, and almost killed me. Least I can do is make sure she’s never gonna hurt anyone else.” She said firmly, and then with the help of Sam, she walked with them, telling them whereabouts she was buried, and explaining that it was ten years ago since that prom night on the Friday of that week. When they reached the plot where Nikki was buried, Beth sat down by a tree, and watched the Winchester brothers dig up the grave of her old school friend. Tears rolled slowly down her face, remembering Nikki’s face when she saw her with Tom at the prom, what she had said to them, what they had said to her, and Kate’s final words to her
“Salt?” she said, shaking her head slightly trying to forget the memories flooding her mind. Beside the grave was a large mound of dirt, and Sam was pouring the contents of a tin pot onto the grave, which was a white powder that looked like salt. Dean was rooting through the duffel bag they both carried, muttering to himself as he looked for something
“Yeah, salt. It helps with making sure the soul is put to rest.” Sam explained, as Dean began pouring lighter fluid onto the corpse in the coffin. Once he had finished, Dean lit a match and held it over the open grave.
“Let me.” Beth insisted, limping over to the edge of the grave, and took the match from Dean’s hand. She ignored the looks Sam and Dean were giving her, held the glowing flame in front of her, before dropping it into the grave, and watching it fall through the air before watching the flames erupt the instant the match touched the petrol.
“Rest in peace, bitch.”