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As the rest of her sorority sisters donned their caps and gowns, smiling for selfies and insipid hashtags, Stephanie hovered in the corner like the specter she had become. At 22, her life had ended quite abruptly some thirty years prior in the basement of the Kappa Omega Phi house. The sounds of her screams lost to the roar of a rush party upstairs.
A party, she added miserably to herself, that she spent weeks planning only to miss out on most of it because Danny Springer decided he liked the way her mini skirt crept up her thighs. For years she flitted around the KOP house, watching over all the young girls as they turned from bubbling freshie to accomplished seniors. While Stephanie may have never seen past her own junior year, she felt immense pride for her sisters as she passed through walls and knocked over lamps.
Mostly harmless stuff: a missing hairbrush, homework covered in nail polish, a cell phone battery dying while still at 60%. Yes, Stephanie was still a little bitter about dying, but deep down she loved her home and never wanted to be parted from it. If anything, her story had become a cautionary tale for pledges over the years.
“Always watch your drink, remember what happened to Stephanie?”
“Don’t let a boy take you anywhere alone. Stephanie should have stayed on the main floor.”
They should have been chastising Danny, not her. She hadn't even had time to set her solo cup down let alone drink any punch before his hand was on her bare waist and he was leading her someplace more private. You know, to get to know each other better.
A vase of fresh flowers goes flying, spraying water and baby’s breath across the wall. Far enough away from the gaggle of duck lips pressed together, but close enough to have them shrieking and running for cover. Stephanie flits away then, not wanting to stick around for the end of year toasts or the cleanup from the grad party.
The doorbell chimes, pulling Stephanie away from her art project of lip gloss drawn penises on the bathroom mirror. Floating down to the main floor, she’s surprised to see any visitors this far into the summer. Most girls were gone on internships or vacations by now. But standing in the doorway are two men in ill-fitting suits, holding up black badge holders in unison to the wide-eyed looks of the pledges at the door.
“Evening ladies, Agents Seinfeld and Kramer with the FBI.” The shorter of the two men, who reminds Stephanie of a Soap Opera star, flashes the girls a smile. Practically hearing the swoon from here, she rolls her eyes and starts to head back upstairs when the taller one adds a comment.
“We’re here following up on the police report filed two weeks ago.” he pinches his brows together, as if the sympathy hurts his head to conjure up.
Stopping in mid-flight Stephanie tries to sort through the half-faded memories of her recent history. A police report, had there been an accident? Surely no other girls had been hurt, not on her watch. She'd done everything in her power to keep her sisters safe, sending every would-be Casanova running for the hills if she so much got a whiff they were up to something.
The first pledge grips the tall one’s, Kramer like the TV character, hand and latches on tight, “Oh thank you Agents! The campus police we’re so not helpful. They just said it was like the wind or something.”
“Yeah!” the second and more ditzy of the pledges adds, “like we would call the cops over something like that. Kasey told me herself, that thing flew through the air. Paranormal activity style!”
Both men nod and have a silent conversation with their eyebrows, but the first one, she knows that name is definitely from TV, continues speaking, “Yes we read the report. We're wondering if any of the girls who were present are here today. We just have some follow up questions.”
“Oh totally, even though its summer there’s always a few of us hanging around after the semester ends. We're getting ready for a party tonight in fact. You guys should come back! You’re like totally cute for an old dude.”
Agent Seinfeld turns four shades of red while Agent Kramer looks at the girl like she hung the moon. The apparent humor at the situation is lost on both pledges as they blatantly check out both men. Kramer clears his throat and holds up a hand to stop their chittering.
“Thank you for the invite, but we are on official business. Could you please go get the other girls?”
Tweedle Dee and Dum both burst into a fit of giggles, why was everything so damn funny, and rush out to the room to find the senior most sister available. Leaving the two Agents alone in the foyer with Stephanie as their invisible host.
“You alright there Dean?” the tall one smirks, pushing his long hair out of his eyes in a habitual nature.
Dean, the short one, points a finger in his face, “Shut the hell up! Those girls are what 19, 20? They probably think every guy over 25 is old.”
“Whatever you say, do you still think there’s a case here? The police report didn’t have much to go on.”
Stephanie floats down closer to hear their professional hushed voices. Dean shoves his hands in his suit pants pockets and looks around the bright Floridian décor. He fidgets and twitches, tugging at his collar and jingling a handful of loose change. Stephanie fights the urge to take a pillow and bop him over the head just so he’ll stop moving.
“Yeah man, the vase, the messages, the string of boys who go missing after dates with these girls. It’s gotta be a case. Total vengeful spirit vibes. That or a real bad remake of Animal House.”
Krammer chuckles, “This has gotta be like a dream for you huh? Sorority Row was like an all you can eat buffet for you back in the day.”
Stephanie’s eyes darken as Dean grins wickedly at his partner, “Sure Sammy, back in the day you couldn't have kept me out of a place like this. Man, there was this one case Dad took at Michigan State... now those girls knew how to party.”
The fond smile on his face falters as his breath mists out into the air. Stephanie draws strength into herself, preparing to make herself visible to the two men who dared to stumble into her home and talk about her girls in such a way.
“Holy Shit,” Sammy gasps, “can you feel that? It must have dropped twenty degrees.”
Dean takes a small box like a pager out of his pocket, and it lights up green and red like a Christmas tree, “We got some huge EMF readings. You got any iron on you?”
“Left it all in the Impala, this was just supposed to be a Q&A session.”
“Well, it’s a freaking hunt now, go! Go get what we need, I'll try and distract it.”
Sammy takes off out the open door as Dean whips around to the empty room. Stephanie shatters the mirrors hanging in the foyer, sending glass and metal crashing to the ground. Heaving the round table in the center of the room, Dean barely has space to jump out of its way before it lands face down where he was just standing.
“Oh, come on sweetheart,” he calls from a pile of dust and glass on the floor, “don’t be like that. We just wanna talk.”
Stephanie roars and the bulbs in the crystal chandelier explode all at once, sending more glass raining down on the man’s head. There are far off screams from the kitchen, her girls are in danger! The other man must have run around to the side and got in that way. Stephanie turns to fly off to look for them when something cold and heavy passes through her. She crumples, disappearing into herself as pain lances all around her, and everything goes dark.
+
Stephanie’s strength returns slowly, she can barely move an eyelash curler or close a door for what feels like days. The men haven't been back, and it looks as though her girls are all safe and sound. Although they tend to leave all the lights in the KOP house on, even when everyone is sleeping. Whispering to each other and constantly looking worriedly around the room. As if those Sammy and Dean characters were going to jump out at any moment and snatch them up.
Boxes in the attic have been shifted and rummaged through, pictures and mementos from girls long graduated or dropped out scattered all along the upstairs floor. Stephanie tuts and clucks at the mess. Her sisters weren’t very considerate of other people’s belongings. Picking up a stuffed bear, Stephanie feels the warmth of a hug long gone by.
It starts in her toes, or where her toes would be, and courses through her with great speed. An all-consuming heat blankets her and surrounds the attic with golden light. Not just warmth now, but hot... burning hot! Fire rages around the area she floats in, Stephanie screams in terror!
Her sisters!
Her home!
Engulfed in flames, trapping them all inside forever...
But the room isn't burning, the papers scattered around barely rustle as a tempest of heat blows her hair back. It's only her, locked tight in this Godforsaken heat.
The fire consumes her, sending her mortal soul off of this plane and finally to rest.
Her last final thoughts on her sisters, she hopes they will be safe for years to come.
+
In a graveyard outside of Gainesville, the Winchester brothers sweat by the light of the Florida moon. The short one aims the flashlight at the tall grasses surrounding the cemetery, designating himself on alligator duty. While the taller one, tosses a zippo in the open grave of the late Stephanie Lightfoot.
“Rest in Peace,” Sammy says to no one in particular.
Dean scoffs, still watching the edges of grass with his pistol in one hand, “Yeah good riddance, ghosty.”
His brother makes a disgusted sound and kicks a clod of grave dirt at him, “Come on Dean... show a little respect. She didn’t deserve what she got.”
“Yeah, but when do any of us ever get what we deserve?"