Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine. Hannah Winchester, on the other hand, is purely from my imagination.
This is currently unedited, and will probably remain unedited for a while.
This chapter has 9,218 words.
Hannah couldn't pinpoint the exact moment her life started to fall apart. Maybe it was when her mother had died burning on the ceiling. It could've been when her Dad had vanished on her and her older brother Dean. Or it could've been when said older brother decided to break into their little brother's apartment at two in the morning so that they could kidnap him.
"He won't be happy." Hannah pointed out. "It's late, he'll be asleep." She wished she was asleep. Currently, she was running on coffee and other energy drinks and was about to crash. She had tried taking a nap, but Dean's car was too uncomfortable. Not that Hannah would ever tell him that. The Impala was his most prized possession. He even called it 'Baby', much to Hannah's amusement.
Dean shrugged. He pulled out his knife and started picking the window lock. "Gotta keep him on his toes." He slowly slid the window open and slipped in. Hannah followed, a grin on her face.
Instantly, before Hannah's foot had even reached the floor, Dean had already gone and knocked over a vase. She sent him a glare. He ignored it as usual and continued walking around, Hannah following behind him. The floorboard creaked under her foot. Dean sent a look over his shoulder that clearly asked, 'could you be any louder?' She gestured to the shattered pieces of the vase that he had broken.
They walked into the next room together. A hand gripped Hannah's shoulder and her brain went into fight-mode. Within a second, she had knocked the arm away and was already throwing a punch. She could see a faint outline of her attacker. Tall, broad, and most certainly her younger brother, Sam Winchester. Well, I'm keeping him on his toes alright. Hannah could no longer sense Dean by her side. He must've disappeared when she and Sam started fighting.
Sam's foot came flying at her. She leaned out of the way. His foot brushed her side. Moonlight streamed in through the blinds, basking the room in a faint light. They could see each other's body more clearly now. At this point, Hannah knew she could've stopped. She probably should've, lest anyone got hurt.
Oh well.
They kept at it. Elbows were thrown, kicks happened. As a desperate attempt to end it, Hannah tackled him to the ground. The pair landed with a thump. Sam continued to struggle under Hannah.
"Whoa, watch it," Hannah said when Sam's hand came to close to her face. "That's my money maker."
"Hannah?" He asked, completely out of breath. "Is that really you?"
Hannah got off him and stood up. Offering her hand, he took it. She pulled him up to his feet.
He glanced around. "Where's Dean?"
"I was grabbing a beer." The eldest sibling said as he waltzed back into the room. "Of course health nut here didn't have any."
Sam, startled by his entrance, threw a punch. Dean easily dodged it and grabbed Sam's wrist.
"Whoa, easy tiger," Dean said.
"You scared the crap out of me!"
"That's cause you're out of practice."
Hannah walked over to stand next to Dean. She took a look at her younger brother, taking in all the changes from the past three years. He seemed taller, if that was even possible. His brown hair—the same shade of brown that Hannah had—now covered his ears. He had a little more muscle on him, and he seemed tenser than he had before. Well, she assumed he would be more relaxed if he hadn't just caught his siblings breaking into his apartment.
"Dean, Hannah, what the hell are you doing here?"
Dean chuckled. "I told you, I was looking for a beer." Hannah rolled her eyes.
"What the hell are you doing here?" His voice was low. The initial shock was wearing off and now he was getting angry.
"Somethin's come up," Hannah informed him. "We need you."
He had given up hunting years ago to go to college. To have a normal life. Hannah knew that Sam wouldn't give in easily to joining them. "Uh, the phone?" He asked.
"If we'd'a called, would you have picked up?"
The light turned on. Hannah blinked at the sudden harsh light. A female voice called out;
"Sam?"
The Winchester siblings turned to look at the woman wearing a cropped Smurf's shirt and short shorts. She stared at Sam, eyes flickering between Dean and Hannah. Hannah gave a smile and waved, thinking about the first impression she was making on what appeared to be Sam's girlfriend. Hi, don't mind us. We're just Sam's siblings that broke into his house in the middle of the night. I hope you don't think we're serial killers.
"Jess," Sam said. "Hey. Dean, Hannah, this is my girlfriend, Jessica."
Dean looked her over. A grin crept on his face; one that Hannah was way too familiar with. The same grin that Dean sported when he was trying to get it on with on with the women.
"Oh, I loved the Smurfs," Dean told her. "You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league."
Jess shifted uncomfortably in the doorway.
"Just let me put something on."
"No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it."
Hannah rolled her eyes and kicked his leg. Dean's expression didn't falter but shifted his gaze from Jess to Hannah. "Sorry for bothering you right now, but we need to talk to our brother really quick. Family emergency." Hannah apologized.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, but, uh, nice meeting you."
"No."
Sam walked over to Jess and put his arm around her, pulling her close. "No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her."
"Okay." Dean squared up to his little brother and his girlfriend. "Um. Dad hasn't been home in a few days."
Hannah internally winced at Dean's words. Sam wouldn't come if he thought that their father was just drunk and passed out somewhere on a park bench (it certainly wouldn't be the first time).
And he didn't. "So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift." He argued. "He'll stumble back in sooner or later."
She stepped forward. "Dad's gone hunting," she explained slow and low. "And he hasn't been home in a few days."
Jess looked up at Sam whose expression was blank, but his lips were pressed together slightly.
"Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside."
-~\/~-
The three siblings now stood outside Sam's apartment. Sam had changed out of his nightwear and into a hoodie and jeans and was currently arguing with Dean and Hannah as they made their way down the staircase.
"I mean, come on. You can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you."
"I told you he wouldn't be happy," Hannah said in a sing-song voice to Dean. He shot her a glare. Turning back to Sam, he tried to get his point across.
"You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. We need you to help us find him."
"You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine."
Hannah stopped walking. Her brothers paused to stare at her. "You know what, Sam? Normally I'd agree with you." Hannah sighed, not fully believing what she was about to say. "But it's been too long. Now are you gonna come or not?" Without waiting for an answer, she took back off down the stairs again.
She could hear Sam call out after her, "I'm not. I can't." He told Dean who had opened to his mouth to argue. "I swore I was done hunting. For good."
"Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad."
"For you, maybe," Hannah interjected. "You were always Dad's favorite."
Dean looked surprised. "No I wasn't." He looked to Sam for back up. "Right?"
"Uh, you were. He never had to deal with you the way he did us," he gestured to him and Hannah.
"That's crap."
"Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45."
"Well, what was he supposed to do?"
"I was nine years old! He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark."
"You know what's out there Sam," Hannah interjected. "If everyone truly knew what lurked out there, they'd be scared of the dark too."
"I know, but still." Sam sighed. "The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her. But we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find."
Dean argued, "We save a lot of people doing it, too."
"You think Mom would have wanted this for us? The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Man, we were raised like warriors."
They were coming up to the Impala, and the siblings were still arguing. Hannah knew that this would happen. She inwardly was shouting at her brothers for not getting along but knew that it was part of their sibling instincts. They got along better than most siblings, but still had moments where they wanted to strangle the other for one reason or another.
"So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?"
"No," Sam said. "Not normal. Safe."
"And that's why you swore off hunting," Hannah said softly. "Listen, Sam, as much as it pains me to admit this right now, we need you. Dad's missing, if he's not already dead."
"We can't do this alone." Dean moved to stand beside Hannah. Together they stared at the youngest sibling.
"Yes, you can."
"Yeah, well, we don't want to."
Sam sighed and looked down at the ground, thinking, and then back up at them.
"What was he hunting?"
Dean smiles. "Knew we could count on you." Hannah moved to the trunk of the Impala, which she popped open. She lifted the spare-tire compartment, which held an arsenal, stocked full of weapons ranging from guns to machetes to knuckles. She propped it up with a shotgun and dug through the clutter.
"Where'd you leave the papers?" She called out.
Dean moved over to her. He tossed through for a second before picking up a folder.
"So when Dad left, why didn't you guys go with him?"
"There was a voodoo thing down in New Orleans that we took care of," Hannah answered.
"Dad let you two off by yourself?"
"I'm twenty-six, dude." Dean sounded offended.
"And I'm twenty-four. We're grown-ass adults. We can handle a hunt without Dad."
"All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy," Dean handed Sam a paper from the folder with the words MISSING spread across the top with a picture under it. "They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA."
"So maybe he was kidnapped," Sam suggested.
"Here's the thing," Hannah said, taking the folder from Dean's hands. "These disappearances date back twenty years. One in April," she placed down a paper. "Another in December 'oh-four, 'oh-three, 'ninety-eight, 'ninety-two and so on. Ten of them spread over twenty years." For every date, she had placed a paper down. "All of them are males, with nothing in common besides going missing on the same five-mile stretch of road."
Dean pulled a bag out of another part of the arsenal. "It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. We haven't heard from since, which is bad enough." Dean picked up a handheld tape recorder. "Then I get this voicemail yesterday." He pressed play, letting the message play out.
"Dean… something big is starting to happen… I need to try and figure out what's going on. If Hannah… Be very careful, Dean. Same goes for your sister. We're all in danger." The message stopped, and Dean and Hannah turned to look at Sam's reaction.
"You know there's EVP on that?"
"Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Hannah shoved Dean's arm while Sam shook his head.
"Yes, there's EVP," Hannah said. "I took the message and worked my magic. Ran it through a gold wave, took the hiss out, and this is what I got."
Dean pressed play. A woman's raspy voice filled the air, "I can never go home…"
"Never go home," Sam repeated.
Dean started packing up the trunk. He took the shotgun out and shut the trunk before leaning on it. Hannah stood beside him with Sam across from them.
"You know, in almost two years we've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing."
Hannah knew Dean wasn't trying to guilt Sam into helping them. Despite what she said earlier about not wanting Sam to come, she found herself wishing he'd say yes. She hadn't seen her brother in so long and would love to reconnect with him.
"All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him." Grins broke out on the older siblings faces. "But I have to be back first thing Monday. Just wait here." He turned back to his apartment, planning to grab some clothes for the weekend.
"Wait, what's on Monday?" Hannah called after him.
"I have this… I have an interview."
"What, a job interview? Skip it." Dean said.
"It's a law school interview, and it's my future on a plate."
"Way to go, Sammy." Hannah congratulated. Dean smirked.
"So we got a deal or not?"
The siblings stayed silent.
-~\/~-
It's late at night as a car drives down the highway. Inside the car, a young man, Troy, was talking on the phone.
"Amy, I can't come over tonight. Because I've got work in the morning, that's why… Yeah, okay, I miss it and my dad's gonna have my ass." He was interrupted by a high-pitched whine that came from his car. Troy looked out his window. Standing on the side of the road was a woman wearing a white dress. She wore no shoes and seemed as if she was dancing. She flickered, disappearing for a moment.
"Hey, ah, Amy, let me call you back?" Troy hung up. He fiddled with his radio, which refused to shut off, flickering. He pulled over and stopped his car, rolling down his window.
"Car trouble or something?" He asked. The woman didn't answer right away. Troy noticed that her dress was dirty and had some tears in it.
"Take me home?" The woman finally asked.
Troy opened the passenger door for her. "Sure, get in." The woman climbed in, making herself comfortable in the car. They started off again. "So, where do you live?"
"At the end of Breckenridge Road."
Troy nodded. He started driving in that direction. "You coming from a Halloween party or something?" He asked, attempting to make small talk. He looked over at her, noticing that the dress she wore was very low-cut and showed off her breasts. He stared for a second before turning away and laughing nervously. "You know, a girl like you really shouldn't be alone out here."
She looked over at him. With a seductive look on her face, she pulled her skirt up over her thigh. "I'm with you." She said in a sultry tone.
Troy swallowed. The woman reached over and grabbed Troy's chin, turning his head to face him.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" She asked.
Troy nodded. His eyes were glued to her cleavage, not her eyes. "Uh…huh."
"Will you come home with me?"
Despite his answer earlier to spend the night at his girlfriend's house, he replied, "Um. Hell yeah."
-~\/~-
They pulled up to an old abandoned house at the end of a road. It was falling apart with age, the windows dark and filthy. It looked like something from a horror movie. The woman gazed sadly at it.
"Come on. You don't live here." Troy asked.
"I can never go home."
"What are you talking about?" Troy questioned. "Nobody even lives here. Where do you live?" He turned to face her. She was gone. Startled, he checked the backseat. Also empty. He got out of the car, searching for any sign of the woman. "That's good. Joke's over, okay? You want me to leave? He waits for an answer, receiving nothing but the sound of crickets in return. He started walking towards the house. "Hello? Hello?" Inside the house, he could see a picture of a woman and her two children. It was covered in dust, having never been cleaned for a long time. Troy peered through the hole in the screen door. A bird flew at him. Screaming, he fell to the ground. He quickly leaped to his feet and ran back to his car, driving away.
While driving, Troy kept looking in the rearview mirror. After a while, he started to calm down. He was a far distance from the house, near the bridge. He checked behind him once more, then looked in the mirror.
She was sitting in his seat.
He screamed again. He lost control of his car and drove right through the bridge's "Bridge Closed" sign. He skidded to a halt halfway down the bridge. A scream could be heard before it was cut off and blood splattered the windows of the car.
-~\/~-
The Impala was parked at a gas station. Sam was sitting in the passenger seat, shuffling through Dean's music collection. Hannah was relaxing in the backseat, spread out.
"I regret asking you to come. Now I'm stuck back here." She complained to Sam. He chuckled.
Dean walked out of the convenience mart carrying a bag. "Hey!" Hannah sits up to look at him while Sam turns his head. "You want breakfast?" Hannah nods and Dean hands her the bag. She searches through it before she pulls out a granola bar.
"No, thanks." Sam declined. "So how'd you pay for that stuff? You three still running credit card scams?"
"Don't forget we hustle as well." Hannah points out. "But yeah. We apply and they send us the cards."
"Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?"
Dean smiles. "Uh, Burt Aframian, and his son and daughter Hector and Louise. Scored three cards out of the deal."
"That sounds about right. I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette collection."
"Why?" Dean asks, confused.
"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two. Black Sabbath?" He held up a tape. "Motorhead? Metallica?" Dean snatched the tape from Sam. "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock."
"I have to agree with Sam, Dean," Hannah says form the backseat. She leans forward so her head was in the front seat with her brothers. Seeing the accusing look on Dean's face, she quickly corrects herself. "Only on the part about them being cassette tapes. I love me some Bon Jovi."
Dean shakes his head. "Well, house rules, Sammy, Hannah." He said, popping the cassette tape into the player. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." He peered back at his sister. "And anyone else can put up or shut up." Hannah sighed, leaning back in her seat.
AC/DC's 'Back in Black' starts playing. Dean revs the Impala engine. "You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam, okay?"
"Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud," Dean said as he turned the music up louder. And with that, they drive off.
-~\/~-
The Impala was cruising down the highway, passing a sign that read JERICHO 7.
Hannah was talking on the phone. "Thank you," she said before flipping her phone shut. "I asked and as far as I can tell, there's no one matching Dad's description at the hospital or morgue. So that's some good news at least."
Dean pulled them up next to a bridge, where several policemen and sheriffs stood. "Check it out." Dean shut off the engine. Leaning over Sam, he opened the glove compartment and took out the box filled with all their fake ID cards. He picked one up and threw it at Hannah and picked his up before grinning at Sam. "Let's go."
The three got out of the car and walked up the group of officers, acting like they belonged there.
"You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean questioned them. The two officers standing by the victim's car turned to look at them.
"And who are you?"
Hannah took her badge and showed it to the officers. "We're Federal marshals."
"You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you?"
Dean let out a laugh. "Thanks, that's awfully kind of you." Moment over, Dean turned his attention to the car. It was clean of any blood that had been there the night before. He walked around, looking for any clues that might have been helpful to them. "You did have another one just like this, correct?"
"Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that."
"So," Sam started. "This victim, you knew him?"
The officer nodded. "Town like this, everybody knows everybody."
"Are there any connection to the victims, besides the fact they're all men?" Hannah asked.
"No," the officer said, shaking his head. "Not so far as we can tell."
"So what's the theory?" Sam questioned.
"Honestly, we don't know. Serial Murder? Kidnapping Ring?" He guessed, throwing random suggestions out.
From the look on Dean's face, Hannah knew he was about to say something that would probably jeopardize the entire case. Before she could stop him, he said; "Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys."
Both Sam and Hannah stomped on Dean's foot in retaliation for running his smart mouth.
"Thank you for your time." Sam thanked them and then the three of them were off, hurrying away from the crime scene. "Gentlemen," Sam said to two officers making their way through.
Once they passed, Dean smacked both of his siblings on the head.
"Ow!" Sam hissed. "What was that for?"
"Why'd you guys have to step on my feet?"
"Why do you have to smart mouth police like that?" Hannah countered.
Dean moved in front of them, forcing them to stop. "Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves."
Hannah cleared her throat, looking at something over Dean's shoulder. He turned around to see the sheriff and two FBI agents.
"Can I help you kids?"
"No, sir, we were just leaving."
The FBI agents walked past them. Dean nodded at them as they went, muttering under his breath; "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully."
The three of them made their way away from the scene of the crime.
-~\/~-
A young woman was holding a stack of flyers, pinning them up outside of a movie theater. Dean, Hannah, and Sam watched her. "I'll bet you that's her," Dean said.
Sam and Hannah nodded in agreement. Together the three of them approached her.
"You must be Amy," Dean said with a smile.
"Yeah."
"Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles and aunt. I'm Dean, this is Sammy, and that's Hannah."
"He never mentioned you to me," Amy said. She started walking away, and the Winchesters moved with her.
"Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto." Dean lied.
"So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around," Sam explained.
Another woman came up to Amy, a sympathetic look on her face. "Hey, are you okay?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry, but do you think we could ask a couple questions?"
-~\/~-
They all sat in a booth, the two girls sat across from Dean, Sam, and Hannah. Hannah shifted, squished between the wall and Sam. Three could fit in a booth. Maybe a little squished, but they could. But the Winchesters were huge. Sam towered at 6'2", Dean at 6'0", and Hannah at 5'11". The result – they were packed into the booth. Amy and her friend, whose name turned out to be Rachael, eyed them.
"I was on the phone with Troy," Amy stated. "He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and… he never did."
"He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?" Sam questioned.
Amy shook her head. "No. Nothing I can remember."
Hannah's gaze drifted down to her necklace, a pentagram in a circle. "Cool necklace."
Everyone's attention turned to Amy as she held the pendant. "Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents," she laughed. "with all that devil stuff."
"Actually," Sam butted in. "It means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing."
"Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries." Dean retorted. He took his arm off the back of Hannah's seat and leaned forward. "Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything…" He trailed off seeing the two friends look at each other. "What is it?"
"Well," Rachael said nervously. "It's just… I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk.
"What do they talk about?" Dean, Hannah, and Sam said in chorus.
"It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Rachel paused. Hannah nodded at her to go on. "Well, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."
The trio looked at each other, knowing that they finally had a lead.
-~\/~-
A web browser is open to the archive search page, the words 'Female Murder Hitchhiking' typed into the search bar. Dean sat at the computer. Sam and Hannah stood behind him, watching as the screen tells him '(0) Result'. Dean replaced 'Hitchhiking' with 'Centennial Highway.' He still got the same response.
"Let me try." Sam offered, reaching out to take the mouse and keyboard. Dean smacked his hand away.
"I got it."
Hannah laughed. "Clearly." Dean looked at her. "Move over, genius." When Dean didn't move, Hannah pushed his chair away.
"Such control freaks, the both of you," Dean said.
"Whatever," Hannah dismissed him. "We're looking for an angry spirit, right? Well, who says it has to be murder to be a violent death?" With that, she replaced 'Murder' with 'Suicide,' smiling at Dean when the screen showed an article title 'Suicide on Centennial.' She opened the article and read through it.
"This was 1981," Sam stated from over her shoulder. "Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river."
"Does it say why she did it?" Dean asks.
"Yup," Hannah said.
"What?"
"About an hour before they found her, she had called 911. It says that her two little kids were in the bathtub. She left them alone for a minute, and when she came back… they were dead." Hannah told Dean. She swallowed a lump in her throat. She hated when children died, they were always too young.
Dean raised his eyes at the information. "'Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch." Sam read the article. Dean's attention; however, was on the picture.
"The bridge look familiar to you?" And it did. It was the same bridge where Troy's car had been found.
-~\/~-
Hannah, Sam, and Dean walked along the bridge that they had been to earlier that day. They leaned over the rail, watching the muddy river run below them.
"So this is where Constance took the swan dive," Dean said.
"So you think Dad would have been here?"
"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him."
"Okay, so now what?"
"We have to look," Hannah answered. "Maybe do some research, try to find out where he could have disappeared."
"Might take a while," Dean added.
Sam stopped walking. "Guys, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—"
Dean turned around to face his baby brother. "Monday. Right. The interview. Yeah, I forgot." Dean said, which Hannah knew was a big lie. Dean had no doubt been hoping that Sam would change his mind and want to stay with them on the hunt to find Dad. She knew it because, despite hating herself for it, wanted the same thing. She hadn't been this happy for a long time. And it was all because Sam was back with them. She wanted Sam back as a family, instead of letting him do what he wanted.
God, I'm selfish. She thought. Sam was happy at Stanford. He was doing good in his grades if the interview was anything to go by. And he even had a girlfriend that she could tell he loved. And Hannah wanted to take him away from all of that just so that she could have both her brothers by her side.
"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Dean went on. "You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?"
"Dean," Hannah warned. "Don't start this right now."
"Why not?" He wheeled on her. "Dad's missing and we're busting our ass trying to find him while he's off playing house—"
"That's not my life. I'm not a hunter like you two and Dad are." Sam said.
"You have a responsibility to—"
"To Dad and his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back."
Dean grabbed Sam by the collar and shoved him up against the railing of the bridge. Hannah ran up to the boys. Her plan was to try and separate them before they said anything else that night. "Don't talk about her like that," Dean growled. Hannah finally pried the boys apart. Sam stood there while Dean walked away.
He froze, however when he saw the ghost of Constance standing on the edge of the bridge. "Hannah, Sam." He called out. Hannah and Sam turned around, eyes widening when they saw Constance. The ghost looked over at them, then stepped off the edge. Sam, Hannah, and Dean ran to the railing, looking for any sign of her.
"Where'd she go?" Dean asked.
"No clue," Hannah replied, confused as she looked.
Behind them, Hannah heard the Impala's engine start and light flooded over them. They turned around, blinded by the bright headlights.
"Oh no," Hannah whispered.
"Who's driving your car?" Sam asked.
Dean pulled out the keys and jingled them. Sam and Hannah glanced at the keys in their older brother's hand. The car jerked forward, barreling right for them.
"Run!" Hannah shouted. They all turned tail and ran. The car was faster than they were and was gaining on them. They jumped over the rail, diving towards the river. The car stopped.
Under the bridge, Hannah and Sam were hanging on to the edge of the bridge, saving themselves from the river. They pulled themselves up onto the bridge. When they noticed Dean was missing, they started calling out for him.
"Dean? Dean!" They shouted into the night.
Below them, a filthy and annoyed Dean crawled out of the river and onto the mud, panting. "What?" He called up.
"There you are." Hannah was relieved. He didn't seem to be injured, so good for him.
"Are you all right?" Sam asked.
Dean held up an A-OK sign. "I'm super."
Sam and Hannah laughed. They scooted away from the edge, not wanting to get all muddy themselves.
Dean met them by the Impala. He shut the hood of his car and leaned on it.
"The car good?" Hannah asked.
"Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!" He shouted the last part, his frustration catching up with him.
"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure. So where's the job go from here, genius?"
Sam and Hannah settle on the hood on either side of Dean. Dean threw his arms up in frustration, then flicked some mud off his hands. Hannah sniffed, then looked at Dean.
"God, you smell like a toilet." She laughed at Dean as he looked down and sniffed his shirt.
-~\/~-
They stood in the lobby of a motel the next morning. Dean was still covered in whatever had been in that river, cause it certainly wasn't just mud. "One room, please." Dean requested, tossing the scammed credit card on the counter. The clerk picked up the card.
Upon noticing the name, he asked: "You guys having a reunion or something?"
"What do you mean?" Sam questioned.
"I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month." The siblings looked at each other.
-~\/~-
The motel door swung open. Hannah stood up, having just picked the lock. Dean and Sam stood outside, being her lookout. Sam and Hannah enter. Dean stayed outside until Sam reaches and grabs him by the shoulder and pulling him into the room. The door closed behind him with a thud. The room was a mess—every vertical surface had been covered with papers; maps, newspaper clippings, pictures, little notes. There was a pile of books on the desk and junk on the floor and bed.
"Whoa," Sam whispered.
Hannah turned the light that was by the bed on. Next to it was a half-eaten hamburger. She picked it up and sniffed it, recoiling when the foul stench hit her nose. "Eww. Dean this almost smells as bad as you do."
Dean shot a glare at her. "I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least."
Sam was looking at something on the floor, Hannah noticed. She saw a white line and realized it was a salt line.
"Salt, cats-eye shells… he was worried." Sam informed them. "Trying to keep something from coming in." he glanced over at Dean who was staring at a paper tacked to the wall. "What have you got here?"
"Centennial Highway victims," Dean answered. "I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"
Hannah was over by the other wall while Dean talked, looking at theories about what it could be. Hannah turned the lamp on, illuminating the wall in an orange glow. Hannah saw the same article that they had read earlier, with a note pinned above it that read 'Woman in White' in their Dad's handwriting.
"Way to go, Dad," she said. "You figured it out."
The boys turned to look at her. "What do you mean?" They asked in unison.
"Look," she gestured to the newspaper clipping. "Dad found the same article on Constance Welch. And guess what, she's a woman in white."
Dean looked at the photos of Constance's victims. "You sly dogs." He turned back to Hannah. "All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it."
"She might have another weakness," Sam pointed out.
"Well, Dad would want to make sure. He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?"
"Nope," Hannah answered. "We'll have to ask the husband, if he's even still alive."
"All right. Why don't you two, uh, see if you can find an address, I'm gonna get cleaned up."
Dean started to walk away, but Sam stopped him. "Hey, Dean? What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry. To both of you."
Dean held up his hand. "No chick-flick moments."
Hannah laughed. Sam smiled. "All right, Jerks."
"Bitches," Dean said.
Hannah smiled. "Asses."
They all laugh, happy and content for the moment. Everything was going well. They had just figured out what Constance was, and that Dad had been there. Dean moved into the bathroom, shutting it behind him. Hannah collapsed on the bed, tired and worn out. Sam stood there. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a something stuck in the mirror frame. He moved closer. It was a photo of John sitting on the hood of the Impala, next to Dean who was wearing a baseball cap. Sitting on John's lap was Sam, smiling for the camera. Hannah was sitting on the other side of John, Sam's hand clasped in her.
Sam took the photo out of the frame and held it, a sad smile on his face.
-~\/~-
Sam paced the room, phone in hand. A voicemail was playing, Jess's voice playing loud and clear.
"Hey, it's me, it's about ten-twenty Saturday night—"
Dean came out of the bathroom, clean again. He grabbed his jacket, shrugging it on one shoulder as he crossed the room. He snatched the pillow from under Hannah's head. "Wake up, smalls. I'm starving." Hannah groaned and weakly slapped her brother's leg. "I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You two want anything?"
"No," Sam said.
"Aframian's buying." Dean tried to persuade him.
"Tell him that I want a milkshake and burger," Hannah called out from the bed. "And that I'm not small!"
"Whatever you say, smalls. Get up yourself and come with me."
"Fine," Hannah huffed. They walked out of the motel room together. Crossing the lot, they see a police car. The motel clerk talking to the officers. The clerk pointed to them, which set off an alarm in Hannah's head.
Hannah reached for her phone, dialing Sam's number. "What." He answers.
The officers start walking towards them. Hannah waves Dean off to distract them for a second. "Five-oh. Take off."
"What about you two?"
"We're found. Now, go find Dad." Hannah hung up. She turned around to see the officer asking Dean if he had anything that was real.
"My boobs." He answered with his signature grin.
The officer slammed Dean down on the hood of the cop car. The other officer came over to Hannah who silently put her hands in the air. "You have the right to remain silent."
-~\/~-
Hannah and Dean sat at a table. The sheriff entered, holding a box. He set the box on the table, dropping it with a thud.
"So you want to give us your real names?"
"I told you, it's Nugent. Ted Nugent." Dean said.
"And I'm Ally Nugent." Hannah lied.
"I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in here."
"We talkin', like, misdemeanor kind of trouble, or, uh, squeal like a pig trouble?" Dean taunted.
"You got the faces of ten missing person taped to your wall. Along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. You two are officially suspects."
"Ah, that's logical," Hannah said. "Cause it '82 when the first one went missing, it's not like I couldn't walk yet."
"I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me, Dean, Hannah," the siblings were shocked, but even more so when the sheriff tossed a brown leather-covered journal on the table.
"This his?" Hannah and Dean didn't answer. The sheriff sat down and started flipping through the journal, filled to the brim with newspaper clippings, notes, pictures, and drawings. "I thought that might be your names. See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out—I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy. But I found this, too." The siblings leaned forward for a closer look. The journal was open to a page that read 'DEAN 35-111', circled with nothing else on the page.
"Now," the sheriff started. "You're stayin' right here till you tell me exactly what the hell that means." The Winchesters stared down at the page, and then each other, each thinking the same thing.
Dad had left.
-~\/~-
Sam knocked on the door of an older house. There was a chain-link covering the grimy windows. There was junk piled in the driveway; tires and used cars laying around in the sun. A man who appeared to be in his late sixties opened the door.
"Hi. Are you Joseph Welch?"
"Yeah," the older man answered.
"I came here to ask you a few questions. Could we walk?"
Joseph nodded. They walked down the long dirt driveway. Sam handed a photo of John to Joseph, asking him if he had come by.
"Yeah, he was older, but that's him. He came by three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter."
"That's right," Sam confirmed for him. "We're working on a story together."
"Well, I don't know what the hell kinda you're working on. The questions he asked me?"
"About your wife Constance?" Sam asked.
"He asked me where she was buried."
"And where is that again?"
"What, I gotta go through this twice?" He huffed.
"It's fact-checking. If you don't mind."
"In a plot. Behind my old place on Breckenridge."
Sam had to play the part of a reporter, so he asked, "And why did you move?"
"I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died."
They stopped walking. Sam turned to face Joseph head on. "Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?"
"No way. Constance, she was the love of my love. Prettiest woman I ever knew."
Sure, Sam thought to himself. And that's why you cheated on her.
"So you had a happy marriage?"
Joseph hesitated before he answered, "Definitely."
"Well, that should do it. Thanks for your time."
Sam started making his way towards the Impala. It had been left at the motel when Hannah and Dean had been arrested so he had taken it and sneaked off to interview the husband. Halfway there, he paused. He turned back to Joseph.
"Mr. Welch," he called. "Did you ever hear of a woman in white?"
Joseph turned around. "A what?"
"A woman in white," Sam repeated. "Or sometimes weeping women?" When Joseph continued to give him a blank look, he explained. "It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really." Sam started walking closer to him. "Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, in Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these different women." Sam had reached Joseph now, only a foot or two away from him. "You understand. But all share the same story."
Joseph didn't seem to catch on to what Sam was trying to imply. "Boy, I don't care much for nonsense." He started to walk away, stopping only when Sam told him,
"See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them."
He turned around. He was mad now. His fists shook with unrestrained anger. "You think… you think that has something to do with… Constance? You smartass!" He yelled.
"You tell me," his voice ever calm.
"I mean, maybe… maybe I made some mistakes." Joseph admitted. "But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get hell out of here! And don't you come back!" His fists still shook, but this time, from grief, anger, or guilt, Sam didn't know. After a long moment, Sam headed back to the car.
-~\/~-
"I don't know how many times we gotta tell you," Dean said for the umpteenth time. "It's my high school locker combo."
"We gonna do this all night long?" The sheriff asked. He clearly didn't believe Dean. Hannah needed to figure out a solution fast.
They were interrupted when another officer leaned into the room.
"We just got a 911, shots fired over at Whiteford Road."
"You two have to go to the bathroom?"
"No," They answered at the same time.
"Good." Before they could react, he slapped handcuffs on them. Hannah was cuffed to the table and Dean was cuffed to her. The sheriff nodded before leaving the room. Hannah noticed a paper clip poking out of the journal. With her head, she gestured to it for Dean to notice. With his free hand, he grabbed it and started picking at the locks. Hannah rubbed her wrists, grateful that the cuffs hadn't been on long, but he could've been gentler putting them on. They made their way over to the door and peeked through the window where they saw the officers getting ready to leave. They ducked out of sight. Once the officers were gone, Hannah snatched the journal off the table and Dean lifted the window for them to climb out of.
-~\/~-
Sam was driving when his phone rang. He didn't even have to say hello before the other two started talking.
"Fake 911 phone call?" Dean's voice came through. "Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal."
"But," interjected Hannah. "It's not like that means anything to us."
Sam smiled, even though his siblings couldn't see it. "You're welcome."
"Listen, we gotta talk," Dean informed him.
"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should've been Dad's next stop."
"Sammy, would you shut up for a second?" Dean asked.
"I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet."
Hannah huffed and grabbed the phone from her brother. "That's because he's not here to do it. Dad split."
"What?" Sam spluttered. "How do you know?"
"Well, I'm holding his journal. I mean, that's a sure-fire sign."
"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing," Sam stated.
"Yeah, well, he did this time," Dean said with a tired sigh.
"What's it say?"
"Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he' s going," Dean replied.
"Coordinates. Where to?"
"35-111," Hannah said. "Don't know where it leads to yet, though."
"I don't understand," Sam muttered. "I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Guys, what the hell is going on?" Sam looked up and slammed on the brake, dropping his phone. He rammed right through the ghost of Constance. He could hear Dean and Hannah's voices through his phone, yelling out for him. Constance now sat in the back seat, staring at Sam through the rearview mirror.
"Take me home."
-~\/~-
Hannah stared at the phone. Dean hung it back up and exited the cramped photo booth. Following suit, Hannah glanced at her older brother.
"Do you think he'll be okay?"
"Come on, this is Sammy we're talkin' about. Of course, he'll be fine."
"Of course," Hannah reassured herself. Then they took off running.
-~\/~-
"Take me home!"
"No,"
Constance glared at him, eyes making contact through the mirror. Sam heard the clicking sounds of the door locks. He tried to open his door, but the door didn't budge. The car started to move. It took off down the road.
After some driving, they arrived outside the old, run-down house.
"Don't do this." Sam pleaded with the ghost. It was pointless but worth trying.
Constance wasn't looking at Sam, however. She was gazing sadly at the house. "I can never go home."
"You're scared to go home," Sam whispered as the realization came to him. He turned around to look at her…
The seat was empty. Quickly scanning for where she could've gone, Constance reappeared in the seat next to him. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Sam squirmed under her, the seat reclining from under him.
"Hold me. I'm so cold." Constance ran her hands over Sam's chest.
"You can't kill me," Sam argued as he tried to fight with the ghost. "I'm not unfaithful. I've never been!"
He saw a small smile dance across her lips. "You will be. Just hold me." Dipping down, she kissed Sam. He fought back against her. After a second she flickered out of sight. Sam lifted his head and looked around for a moment before yelling in pain. He yanked his hoodie open and saw that five new holes had been burned into his shirt. Constance reappeared, fingers digging into the holes.
Sam heard the sound of a gunshot followed by a shattering window. Glass rained down upon him. Dean and Hannah were approaching the car, guns in hand. Hannah fired another shot at Constance, who glared at her before vanishing.
Sitting up, he managed to grab the keys and start the car. "I'm taking you home." Dean and Hannah watched as Sam drove the car through the side of the house. They ran after their brother.
"Sam! Sammy, you okay in there?" Hannah asked, peering through the intact window.
"I think…"
"Can you move?" Dean asked on the other side.
"Yeah. Help me?" Dean held his hand out.
Hannah watched as Constance picked up an object from the floor—a picture frame. She seemed upset. Dean and Sam stood next to her, and the three siblings ended up trapped. Constance had pinned them between the car and an old dresser. They pushed at it, trying to let it up.
Constance didn't pay them any attention. Her gaze seemed fixed on the two small figures that stood hand-in-hand at the top of the stairs.
"You've come home to us, Mommy." Hannah shivered. There wasn't anything more she hated than cats, but ghost children? That came pretty close.
The children teleported next to their mother, grabbing her white dress. Constance screamed, and together the family of three melted into the floor, leaving nothing more than a wet patch on the ground.
The siblings pushed the dresser off of them and it fell with a thud. "So this is where she drowned her kids."
"That's why she could never go home."
"She was too scared," Hannah whispered. "She couldn't face her own kids."
"You found her weak spot." Dean praised. "Nice work, Sammy." He slapped Sam's chest, where Constance had tried to dig her hand into. Sam let out a weak laugh.
"Wish I could say the same for Hannah." He turned to face her. "What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"
"I wasn't." She replied with a shit-eating grin on her face. "It's a wonderful thing… you should try it some time."
"Think I'll have to pass." Sam smiled at his sister. She gave him a small side-hug.
"I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?" Dean called out as he inspected his baby. "I'll kill you."
-~\/~-
The Impala tore down the road, right headlight broken from the struggle. Inside, Sam propped the map higher, using his ruler to find the coordinates that Hannah had told him from the backseat.
"Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."
Dean nodded. "Sounds charming. How far?"
"About six hundred miles."
Hannah leaned forward. "Great. So if we hurry, we can drop you back off at Stanford and then high-tail it. Could make it by mid-day, at least."
Dean's grip on the wheel tightened. Sam saw the disappointed look on his brother's face. "Dean, the interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there."
"Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home."
Hannah leaned back, surveying her two brothers. She felt an odd sense of uneasiness come over her. Dean turned up the radio, blasting 'Highway to Hell'. She let the music drown her thoughts out.
-~\/~-
They pulled up in front of Sam's apartment a couple hours later. Sam got out. Leaning low, he stuck his back in through the window. "Call me if you find him." Dean nodded, still upset. "And maybe I can meet up with you two later, huh?"
"Of course." Hannah smiled. Sam patted the car door twice and turned away.
"Sam?" Dean called. Sam turned back. "You know, we made a hell of a team back there."
Sam smiled softly. "Yeah."
Dean started to drive off. Hannah rolled down her own window and called, "Don't be a stranger!"
Sam laughed and watched his siblings disappear. After a second, he entered his apartment. It was dark and quiet. "Jess? You home?"
He saw the plate of cookies that Jess had made for him, next to a little note in her neat handwriting, 'Missed You! Love you!'. Sam picked one up and headed to their bedroom. He could hear the shower running. Sam collapsed on the bed, chewing the cookie. His eyes were shut, relaxing. Blood dripped onto his head, one drop, then another. Flinching, he opened his eyes.
Jess was attached to the ceiling, her stomach slit open and dripping blood.
"No!" He yelled as she burst into flames. Over the roar of the flames, he could hear footsteps and the sound of his brother and sister yelling his name.
"Sam!"
"Sammy!"
His bedroom door swung open, revealing Hannah and Dean.
"Sam!"
-~\/~-
As Dean drove on, Hannah kept glancing back towards where they had dropped off their brother. Dean noticed.
"He's gonna be fine. Kid can take care of himself."
"I know he can. It's just…" Before she could say much more, the radio that had been silent burst on, static coming through the speakers. Hannah straightened, eyes locked on Dean. He jerked the car around and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. They were on a race, and they couldn't lose. Not with Sam on the line.
They pulled up outside his apartment. Hannah jumped out of the car before it had fully stopped and started running, Dean close on her heels. She kicked open the front door. Hannah could hear her younger brother's yells for Jess.
"Sam!" Dean yelled.
"Sammy!"
She burst into his bedroom. It felt like she had stepped into a flashback. But instead of seeing her mother, it was Jess burning on the ceiling instead. She had been two when it happened but seeing it first hand had seared the memory into her brain forever.
Dean rushed forward and grabbed Sam, pulling him off the bed. Sam fought, reaching out for Jess. Hannah grabbed Sam's other arm and the two older siblings dragged Sam out of the bedroom, the house, and eventually on to the front lawn. By that time, Sam had stopped fighting and instead collapsed against the ground, silently weeping. Hannah got sank to her knees next to him and rubbed his back.
"I've got you," she whispered to him. "I've got you."
-~\/~-
Firemen walked around, extinguishing the last of the burning embers. Policemen kept back the neighbors, standing in their jammies middle of the night to see what was going on. Dean looked on. He didn't know why the demon had decided to come here, but one thing was clear—Sam wasn't okay.
He went over to Hannah. She had taken residence against the car. Her eyes were focused on Sam, the youngest sibling. Hannah watched him carefully, making sure that he didn't break down. Standing over the trunk, he loaded a shotgun, his face a mask of anger. He tossed the shotgun in once he finished. His siblings stood by his side. Closing the trunk, he whispered,
"We got work to do."
So I actually found this in my files. I did this like a year ago and then forgot about it and I actually have quite a bit done so these can come out for a little while.
Hope to see you again soon!