When the Guilt Subsides, the Night Begins

“I hate graveyards,” Kieryn muttered, her hands shoved deep inside the pockets of her tan coat.

“Funny that,” Dean murmured, his voice resonating through the darkened air around them. “Most people seem to quite enjoy graveyards. Especially at night.”

Dean trekked through the maze of headstones, the beam of his torch leading he and Kieryn’s trail. The aim of this procedure? Markus Trengrove’s grave. After finding the source of the murders, it was only natural that they should think to torch the remains, therefore preventing the spirit from connecting with Kieryn in her sleep ever again. Sam and Dean had thoroughly explained the whole ordeal to the redhead before she’d insisted on coming along. A week ago, Dean wouldn’t have been able to think of anything worse than being alone in a graveyard with the girl. But now? Now he rather enjoyed the company.

“Guess I’m not most people, then, huh?” Kieryn grunted, smiling cunningly to herself. “Funny that.”

“Yeah, that’s not exactly new knowledge. Most people don’t brutally murder men in their sleep-”

“Don’t even start!” Kieryn chuckled, shoving him in the shoulder with a clenched fist. Despite the humorous conversation, Kieryn couldn’t help her thoughts lingering back to her sister. Emerson, after the crash early that morning, had been taken into surgery. When it was finally over, at around 2pm that afternoon, the doctors had informed her that Em’s condition was serious, and recovery could take some time. But the overall consensus was that she would live. She was expected to sleep through the rest of the night.

Kieryn shook her head, quickly swiping a finger past her eyes to rid the forming tears. Dean hadn’t noticed, thankfully. His attention seemed fixated on the task at hand; locating the grave of Markus Trengrove. The idea still seemed absurd to Kieryn. Torching a corpse? Although when she reminisced all the other crazy things she had seen and heard over the past few weeks of knowing Sam and Dean, this didn’t seem so outrageous at all.

“There it is,” Dean said suddenly, breaking the crisp silence that had overcome them. He stumbled over to one of the larger headstones around them, immediately positioning his torch atop of it so that the beam shone perfectly across the patch of grass before the grave.

“Ready?” Dean asked, smirking as he looked up at the girl. He held out one of the spades he’d been carrying toward her, waiting for the girl to relieve him of it. Her ivory skin shone with a golden glow in the moon’s luminance, and Dean couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face as he watched her.

The smile seemed to evaporate however, as soon as she shook her head smugly, plopping herself down onto the grass and folding her arms and legs, nodding casually toward the spade in his hand. “Go on, then,” she chuckled. “Better get to work, eh.”

“I hate you,” Dean muttered under his breath, tossing one of the spades onto the ground in front of her before turning around and thrusting his spade deep into the earth’s surface in the centre of the spot that was lit up by the torch beam.

Dean heard her chuckling from behind him but refused to turn around and look at her. “Whatever!” he heard her say, and just through the word he could sense the cunning smile gracing her lips.

“Why’d you insist on coming along if you’re not even going to help?”

Kieryn gulped nervously at the question, pulling her knees up to her chest and curling her arms around her slim legs. She knew exactly the reason, though it probably wasn’t the answer he would expect. Why on Earth would she insist on taking part in digging up and torching a stinking old corpse? As much as she would have liked to deny it, she couldn’t. It was because of Dean. She was here because of him; not only because she wanted to spend time alone with him, but because she wanted to prove that she could be a part of his world, that she wasn’t afraid. Because this was his world, after all. And who knew what would happen once this corpse had been destroyed? Would they just leave? Work is over, time to move on. Somehow Kieryn found herself hoping that they would stay, though she knew that thought was even more absurd than the concept of salting and burning a set of bones.

“Kier?”

Dean’s voice snapped her away from her thoughts, and she glanced up quickly to see the man staring down at her, his widened eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
She merely shook her head, pushing herself to her feet. “Pass me that spade, would ya?”

---

Sam flicked through the papers before him for what seemed to be the 100th time that day. With Kieryn and Dean scouring the graveyard and Emerson in hospital, Sam had been given the delightful duty of research. By himself. He knew that something about the case still wasn’t adding up, yet he couldn’t seem to figure it out. What was the old priest’s connection to Markus Trengrove? How could they have found Sulfur at the third crime scene if no demons were involved? But most significantly, why had the spirit chosen Kieryn to act through?

Nothing seemed to make sense.

Sam slammed his fist down upon the motel room table, producing a loud creak.

“I give up,” he muttered to himself, leaning back on the creaky motel bed. Progress had been made, and that thought brought his mood up a little. Sam had come to the assumption that Markus Trengrove’s spirit was punishing those associated with his death. It was safe enough to presume that Ian Donahue, Jason Magnus and Brian McGregor had all had some part to play in the man’s unusual death, and Sam decided that that information alone would have to be enough. The priest was safe. So who cares?

And that only meant one thing. The case was over. It was time for he and his brother to move on.

This thought was a strangely depressing one to Sam.

---

“I think its safe enough to say that Markus Trengrove won’t be bothering you ever again,” Dean said smugly, dusting off his hands as he and Kieryn stood and watched the flames before them envelope all that was left of the man’s remains.

It seemed almost cruel, torching one of the only existing physical reminders of a man. But after all, his spirit had forced her to brutally murder 3 men. This was merely just payback, as well as prevention.

“Guess you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight.”

Kieryn wanted to believe Dean’s words. Only she knew that for as long as she lived, she’d never rest easy ever again. She would always be haunted with the thought that it could happen again, at any time. Eliminating one spirit wasn’t going to change the fact that something was wrong with her. The yellow-eyed man had said it for himself; that these murders were only the beginning. There were more to come.

“Kier?”

“Hmm?” Kieryn glanced up to meet the concern-ridden eyes of the man beside her.

“It’s over.”

Kieryn nodded. “I know. The case is over. Time for you and Sam to move on, right?”

“Right.”

Kieryn swore she witnessed an ounce of regret cross the handsome man’s face. “It’s never going to be over,” she muttered, glancing down at her feet.

Dean swallowed, his brows furrowing in confusion. If anything, Kieryn should be relieved. Markus Trengrove’s spirit was gone. Emerson was going to be okay. Everything had panned out alright in the end. “What do you mean?” he mumbled.

“The first time it happened, when I was in college. I murdered a girl in my dorm. Now you can’t tell me that was because of the same spirit! Because this Markus dude wasn’t even dead then. This first time, it happened because of a different spirit, right? If two spirits have had their way with me already, then who’s to say there won’t be more?” Kieryn sucked in a deep breath, watching the flames beginning to die down before them.

“If that happens, then I guess Sam and I will just have to come back,” Dean offered, before chuckling lightly. “Oh, what a torture.”

“There’s one more thing,” Kieryn said, after the two had gathered the spades and petrol and began their trek back through the deserted cemetery.

“Yeah?”

“That priest that I almost killed. He saw me. And he’s accusing me, right? It’s only a matter of time before somebody spots me and the police get a hold of me.”

Instantly, Dean was flooded with memories of the previous night. Kieryn was right. When Sam and Dean had taken the priest to the hospital he’d raved the entire way about the crazy redhead who’d kidnapped him. With no doubt, the police would be getting a sketch artist in in no time. Kieryn wouldn’t be safe in Petoskey for much longer.

“Let’s just worry about that shit in the morning,” Dean said with a chuckle, though the attempt at breaking the tension was weak.

The car ride back to Kieryn’s home was painfully silent, despite the loud music resonating from the speakers. Neither of them wanted to speak. Neither of them had anything to say, anyway. What could be said in such a situation?

When Dean pulled the Impala up alongside the curb, Kieryn shuffled to undo her seatbelt, before turning to face the man in the drivers seat.

“Please don’t go.”

Dean was shocked at her blatant display of emotions. But he didn’t tease her with a snide comment like he usually would have, he didn’t snicker or pull a face of disgust. He merely nodded, unclipping his seatbelt and following her up the steps of the familiar house.

The moment he stepped inside, he was welcomed with the recent memories of he and Kieryn’s night alone here not at all long ago. He smirked, following the redhead into the kitchen and dining room and setting himself at one of the bar stools lining the bench while she migrated towards the fridge.

“A coffee would be good right about now,” he said, a cunning smirk plastered to his smug face.

Kieryn turned away from the fridge to shoot the man a petulant glare. “Is that right?” Much to her annoyance, she couldn’t help the smile forming on her face in that moment. Despite her sarcastic remark, Kieryn found herself pouring boiling water into two mugs, stirring the contents of each until she was content that the coffee had dissolved.

However, in her distracted state, as she was delivering the mug to the man at the bench she staggered clumsily, spilling the contents onto Dean.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed, swiping at the spot where the hot liquid had hit his shirt. It took a moment before he realized that Kieryn was laughing hysterically, and the next instant he was laughing too.

Kieryn wasn’t sure why she found the situation so amusing. It wasn’t even all that funny, though it felt good to release some of the stress she’d been burdened with over the past few weeks.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Dean grunted, examining the new dark stain that covered his grey t-shirt. When he glanced up, he realized that Kieryn had stopped laughing and was watching him silently, her face only a few centimetres from his.

Kieryn leaned up quickly, taking Dean’s lips in her own for a moment. She smiled as she kissed him, reminiscing their time together the previous night. Their actions had been rash and probably even stupid at the time, but Kieryn couldn’t help but want to refresh her memory of the touch of his toned skin against hers.