A/N: Hey everyone no one worry (if ya'll do) I'm working on my chapters for the other two fics…things have just been crazy lately because I'm taking an overload of classes in school and I just got word I got a new job!!! YAY…it's in my field of study so I'm a big girl now lol... anyway, I'm working on them and I'll get a chapter up for each ASAP! For now though, I bring you a one!shot I've been working on for a few weeks now! In this one, Dean- 22, Sam- 18, and
Haley- 13 (going on 14) this is the first real hunt for Haley and the LAST hunt before Sam takes off to school and John leaves. Enjoy!!
A/N 2: I know I haven't gotten back to all of you who have reviewed my last updated chapter and I'm SORRY!! Please know that I appreciate every single one of you and I wouldn't be writing if it weren't for ya'll. – Special thanks to my beta Kelly!! I love you darlin'.
The Last Time
"Haley pay attention!" John scolded his thirteen year old daughter. This was Haley's first real hunt and he couldn't afford for things to go wrong. "This isn't a training session; you need stay focused or people can get hurt," he added, handing her one of Sam's old shotguns.
Haley rolled her eyes. "You're not even talking about the hunt yet, Dad," she pointed out, earning herself a glare from Dean.
"What? He's not!" she whined, returning her brothers glare.
"Haley," Dean warned. He wasn't in the mood for another Winchester bitchfest. The one Sam and Dad had had in the morning was enough to last him the rest of the week.
Haley sighed, annoyance clear as day marring her features. She couldn't stand being in this family sometimes. Killing monsters wasn't exactly high on her list of things to do in life. "Whatever," she muttered, hopping up and sitting on the Impala's slick hood.
John sighed, setting his own shotgun down on the hood beside her. "Dean, once we're in the house, you and Sam are taking the downstairs floors. Make sure you check every room." John instructed, shuffling through a stack of papers. "Haley and I will take the upstairs floors."
"Yes sir," Dean said, earning himself a glare from both siblings.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Sam asked, watching his dad warily. He wasn't so thrilled about this hunt either.
John brought his gaze up, assessing his middle child. "Hilda's crystal ball," he said simply.
Haley cocked an eyebrow. "A crystal ball?" she asked amusedly. "Are we fortune tellers now too?" she chuckled softly, not taking the hunt serious.
John took a few deeps breaths, calming himself before he said something he'd regret later. "Hilda's spirit is connected to the crystal ball. We need to destroy it if we want to get rid of her," John stated as calmly as he could.
"Can't we just do a regular salt and burn?" Haley asked confused.
"No, her daughter had her cremated a few weeks after they found her body," John stated.
"Wait, I thought her daughter was dead; suicide or something, no?" she questioned.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't ask so many freaking questions Haley; if dad isn't giving the info, then it isn't needed," he said matter of fact.
Haley glared at Dean. 'What is his problem?'
"The daughter had Hilda cremated before she killed herself; now how about we finish this hunt?" John said impatiently.
Haley nodded. "Ok. So what, we just find the crystal ball and break it or something?"
"How about you just do the finding and then hand it over," John said, shouldering his weapons bag. "Come on, let's get this going before it get's light out," he said, motioning all three of his kids forward.
Haley slid off the impala and walked side by side with Sam. "Hey Sammy—."
"It's Sam," he interrupted casually.
"Ok, Sam, are you ok?"
Sam looked down confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Haley shrugged. "I dunno, you're givin' off this weird vibe…" she trailed off.
"It's nothing you gotta worry about Hay; just keep your head in the game alright?" he said picking his speed up, leaving her behind.
Haley sighed. No one ever told her anything. It sucked to be the youngest.
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"Keep your eyes open; this bitch is tricky," John warned the boys. "If you find the crystal ball, you know what to do with it," he said, eyes pointed at Dean.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, we're good dad," he said shouldering his bag.
"Alright, Haley, you come with me. Be safe boys; ears and eyes open," he said pushing Haley in front of him.
"Dad, I can walk on my own thanks," Haley whined, turning to look back at Sam and Dean's retreating forms. Why couldn't she just go with them? Dean was way nicer then her dad; he was actually patient…most of the times.
"Haley, keep your head in the game," John bellowed.
Haley sighed. This hunt sucked.
"Ok, why don't you go check out Hilda's daughter's bedroom over there while I check Hilda's room? Keep your eyes open, if you see anything, you shoot first, understand?" he said sternly.
"Yes Sir.' Haley sighed.
"Remember what we practiced; be ready for the kick when you pull the trigger," he reminded. The shotgun, although smaller than his and the boys, had a pretty nasty kick and Haley's small frame wasn't as well equipped to handle it yet. If it were under any other circumstances, he would've gladly left her behind, but whether he liked it or not, he needed to prepare Haley for the hunt; it was for her own good.
"I know dad," she said taking a hesitant step towards the other room, waiting for her dad's go ahead.
John gave a slight nod before turning towards his destination.
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"You think Haley and Dad are ok?" Sam asked, looking through a few drawers.
"Well, they're not yelling at each other, so that's a good sign," Dean scoffed.
First it had been Sam and John bitching at each other twenty-four seven and now that Sam had somewhat calmed down, Haley had quickly taken over. Not exactly the greatest for Dean.
"She's not doing it on purpose Dean; dad just…he doesn't—"
"What Sam? He doesn't what?" Dean cut him off, annoyance lacing his words.
"Understand her," Sam finished dryly. "He doesn't give a crap about what Haley wants, what she can and can't handle; he just throws out these orders at her, expects her to know things a kid her age shouldn't know…"
"He's trying the best he can Sam!" Dean argued. "This life, what we do, we can't afford to do what we want, we can't afford to slip up; Haley's thirteen, I get it, she has other shit she's probably interested in, but we can't Sam; not if we want to live."
"Dean, do you ever stop to think about what Mom would say about all of this? Yeah, I get that she died and I understand why we're doing this—"
"Sam, don't even go there," Dean warned, pulling out few drawers.
"You know she wouldn't approve right? I'm pretty sure mom wouldn't like the idea of us using guns or scamming credit card companies or—"
"Enough Sam!" Dean yelled. "Look for the damn crystal ball and shut up," he said, going back to his search.
Sam gritted his teeth; just a few more months and this shit would be over; just a few more months.
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Haley stepped into the empty, dusty bedroom left behind by Hilda's youngest daughter. The place hadn't been lived in since the Witt family two years ago. They'd lasted about a week before they took off running, leaving all their shit behind; obviously they hadn't counted on Casper the friendly witch sticking around.
'Ghosts' Haley scoffed. She hated those damn things; always popping up when you least expec—"Ah…shit!"
Haley jumped back automatically bringing her shotgun up and aiming it at Hilda's--what the…?
"This is my room! Get out!" the ghost growled, suddenly hovering right in front of her.
Haley stepped back and took aim. The shotgun went off, throwing Haley's small frame backwards into the closet door; damn kick.
The ghost shrieked and dissipated into a puff of dust, leaving a panting Haley behind; that was gonna leave a friggin bruise.
She gingerly pushed herself off the wall, rubbing the small of her back when she found herself pinned. "Crap!"
"This is my room!" the ghost growled menacingly.
"Dad!" Haley yelled, trying to pull her shotgun up. "Daddy…"
"My room, mine!"
Suddenly Haley found herself airborne; one second she was pinned to the closet door and the next she was behind the closet door.
"Oh no, nonononono…daddy!" Haley dropped the shotgun and started pounding on the door as hard as she could; she needed out, she needed out now!
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John quickly shuffled through Hilda's old musty bedroom; this damn hunt was seriously starting to grate on his nerves. Where the hell did this damn witch stuff her crystal ball? Her bedroom seemed the most logica—
"Dad, Daddy!"
John spun around; his heartbeat picking up at the sound of Haley's cries for him. He dropped the pile of clothing he was holding on the floor and jetted out of the room and towards the one his daughter was in.
"Haley!"
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"Man, I'm telling you, it's not here." Sam sighed, shuffling through a few more drawers.
He and Dean had already gone through one room and were now making there way around what they presumed to be the office; still no luck.
"Yeah, probably upstairs somewhere," Dean agreed nonchalantly.
"We should go up and help them look; the faster we find this thing the faster we can leave." Sam said, already heading for the door.
Dean sighed but didn't say anything. He was too damn tired to argue.
They both rounded the wall around the kitchen when they heard their dad yell Haley's name.
"Fuck." Dean swore, running the rest of the way to the stairs; Sam in tow.
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Haley pounded, kicked, and screamed until her lungs ached and her muscles started to spasm. She didn't want to be in here; she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe!
"Daddy, Dean…somebody! Get me out, get me out!" she cried, sliding to the floor of the dark, stuffy closet.
"My room."
Haley gasped, pushing herself farther back into the closet. 'Please, please, get me out, get me out.' she prayed silently.
"You can't be here," the voice whispered coldly in her ear.
Haley folded in on herself, her hands automatically coming up over her ears. "Go'way," she muttered softly.
The ghost suddenly went from being in front of her to being on her; the weight on her chest was immense, and she was friggin cold.
"Get off, get off! Dean!" Haley struggled to free herself, wanting nothing more than to be back in the impala, safe under her dad and brother's watchful eyes. Screw being independent, she didn't like independence.
"Nobody's coming. No one cares," the ghost whispered, caressing Haley's cheek with cold fingers.
"Sammy!" Haley choked out, quickly losing strength.
"Shhh…you won't be alone, I'll help you."
Haley eye's widened at the implication of the ghost's words. This bitch was gonna kill her.
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John barged into the bedroom he'd sent Haley into earlier only to find it empty. Where the hell had she taken off too?
He was about to walk out of the room when Haley's panicked cry came from inside the shut closet.
"What the…" John quickly closed the distance between himself and the closet, dropping the shotgun by his leg. "Haley!"
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"No." the ghost hissed, pulling away from Haley's small frame; leaving her in a coughing fit. "You're in my room, you're mine," it said.
Haley curled in on herself trying to catch her breath.
"Haley!"
"Da—dad!" she croaked, her father's strong voice registering in her muddled brain.
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"Da—dad!"
"Haley!" John yelled again, trying to pull the closet door open. "Sonauva—"
"Dad…" Dean's worried voice came in behind him.
"Spirit's got'er trapped in the closet," John explained, kicking the door in frustration. "We gotta find that damn ball!" he yelled.
"Daddy, get me out of here please!" Haley's small voice came from behind the door.
"Haley, it's ok, we're gonna get you out," Dean said, stepping up to the door. "Just hang tight alright."
"Dean, she's trying to kill me!" Haley cried, pounding on the door helplessly.
Dean's eyes widened and turned towards his father. "Dad…"
"I'm gonna find that damn ball and end this, you two stay with her," John ordered sternly.
"S'not Hilda!" Haley yelled, her voice cracking a bit. "S'her daughter."
"What did she say?" John stepped closer to the closet.
"It's Hilda's daughter? Dad, I thought you—"
"Sonauva—stay with her," John said before bursting out of the room.
How the hell had he gotten this so wrong? He should've done more research, he should've made sure…shit, that didn't matter right now, he needed to fry that bitches bones before she killed his kid; he could sulk later. At least he'd researched enough to know where to find her.
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"Dean please, please get me out; I can't breathe!" Haley cried, her small fist pounding on the door. "Sammy…"
Dean swallowed hard, feeling his insides coil at the distress in Haley's voice. "Haley I need you to calm down ok. Take a deep breath and hold it; I promise you, you're gonna be fine," he said placing his palm over the door.
"Get me out; I don't want to be here anymore," she cried throwing herself against the door in an effort to open it. She'll be damned if she waits around for evil Casper to come around again.
"Sammy, go grab the ax from the car," Dean ordered, yanking on the door knob uselessly.
"Yeah, be right back." Sam took off out of the room and down the stairs. This was so bad.
"Haley, you ok in there kiddo?" Dean asked trying to keep her calm.
"Dean please." Her muffled sobs came through the door, breaking Dean's heart.
"Hay, Sam's getting the ax; I swear we're getting you out, just hang on for a few more minutes ok." He sighed, leaning against the door. Trying to kick it open wasn't gonna work so he might as well wait for the ax.
"I hate hunting," she said punctuating that with a kick to the door.
Dean smirked. Yeah, he kind of hated it too, when it put his siblings in danger like this. "I know you do kiddo."
"Dean I can't breathe in here."
"If you're talking, you can breathe," Dean assured her.
"I hate the dark; this place is too small, I can't move," she cried softly, thumping her head against the door.
"Just a few more minutes Haley," Dean assured. Come on Sammy.
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Sam ran outta the house like a bat outta hell only to find the Impala gone; of course, their dad had taken it. Shit.
Turning back towards the house, Sam spotted a shed a few feet away and made a dash for it. The small door was practically rotted through making it easy to kick open; there was junk all over the place, some weird looking wooden chest, a few cardboard boxes, and score some gardening tools.
He put his shotgun under his armpit and grabbed a shovel and a pickax from the small pile and ran back to the room; Haley was probably freaking.
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"Dean…"
"Yeah Hay, I'm still here," he said, looking around the room for anything that might be useful in trying to bust the door down.
"I'm scared," she said, feeling ashamed. She was a Winchester; Winchesters didn't get scared.
Dean walked back to the door and kneeled down, getting his lips as close to the crack as possible so Haley could hear him better. "I know you are kiddo, but you don't have to be; I'm right here ok," he said, wishing like hell it was him in there and not her.
"I wanna go home," she choked out.
"I know and you will, soon as we get ya out," Dean said.
Haley sighed and slid down to the floor again. As much as this shit was freaking her out, Dean and Sam were here and they wouldn't let ghost bitch get her. 'Calm down Hay, they'll get you out, just breathe, deep breathes.' She coached herself.
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John threw the car into park, flung his bag over his shoulder, grabbed the shovel and ran full speed into the old town cemetery. He needed to burn this bitch yesterday!
He scanned each headstone he passed on the way and finally spotted the one he was looking for on the last row in the back corner. Not bothering to set the bag down, John started shoveling quickly, tossing lumps of dirt over his shoulder.
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Haley was concentrating on breathing deeply; her anxiety rising a tad higher each minute she passed locked in there. She was losing track of the time already and just wanted to get the fuck out.
"Dean?" she called over her shoulder; it was too quiet outside.
"Yeah Hay, I'm here," she heard him say.
She let out a breath she was holding in unknowingly. Good, not alone.
"Where's Sammy?" she had yet to hear from him.
"He's grabbing the ax from the car, remember?" he said, his voice sounding a bit muffled.
Right. "Oh, kay."
"You hanging in there kiddo?" Dean asked concerned.
No. "Uh yeah, but I—"
"Mine."
Haley froze for a moment before realizing her dead friend was back. "Oh no, nononono, Dean, Dean get me out!" Haley panicked; her breathing now coming out in cold puffs of smoke.
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"Oh no, nononono, Dean, Dean get me out!"
"Haley, Haley calm down, bre—"
"Dean she's back, oh God, she's gonna get me, Dean please!"
Haley was full on panicking now, all thoughts of breathing and staying calm completely gone.
"Shit, Sam!" Dean ran towards the door and yelled down the upstairs hall hoping like hell Sam could hear him.
Just then Sam bounded up the steps and shovel and a pickax in hand. "Dad left with the car, had to improvise," he said breathlessly.
Dean didn't speak, just pulled the pickax from Sam's hand and headed towards the closet.
"Haley get back, I'm gonna get you out," Dean yelled loudly.
"Dean I—shit, get off of me!"
"What the hell's going on?" Sam asked, starting to panic himself.
"Ghost is in there," Dean said not wasting anymore time as he brought the pickax up and slammed it against the door.
The door splintered a little after the first blow, small chunks of wood flying all over the place hit after hit. Sam started in with the shovel speeding the process up.
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"Get off of me you freak!" Haley slammed back against the rear wall of the closet feeling around the dark space for anything that might repel the ghost, her shotgun preferably.
"I'll help you," the ghost whispered, leaning in over Haley.
"I don't need your help, get away from me!" Haley yelled quickly scrambling away from the corner she'd huddle in. She managed to bypass the ghost only to get slammed into the side wall a second later.
So much for being a small closet; she still managed to get slammed up against a damn wall.
"I don't want to be lonely. You came to me, you can't leave," the ghost reasoned.
"De—"her cry was cut off by the sudden pressure building inside her chest once again; this time more intense then the last. She was gonna fucking burst her lungs any second now.
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The loud thump coming from inside the small closet fueled Sam and Dean to move faster. As few more swings at the splintered wood broke through and made a big enough hole for them to look through.
"Haley, talk to me." Sam said pulling pieces off wood away from the hole.
He could hear Haley wheezing somewhere on the left side of the small closet but couldn't actually see her.
"Dean I can't see her," Sam said frantically pulling the door apart. "Where's dad?"
Dean pulled Sam back and kicked the door splintering it all down the middle. "Dunno," he grunted, giving one last kick, bringing the door down quickly.
Sam pulled the large pieces of wood out and scrambled in careful not to step on his little sister.
"Haley?"
Sam saw what he thought was Haley's small frame walking towards him only to be flung backwards onto a wall. Fuck.
Dean lifted his shotgun at eye level and shot a round of rock salt through the girl's spirit. "Whoops," he said smugly, looking around to see if she had manifested again.
Sam dropped to the floor and hurried to the closet. "Dean where is she?"
Dean walked into the cramped space and found Haley lying face down in the far back corner.
"Hay, Haley." He kneeled down by her and rolled her over carefully. "Hay, come on kiddo, wake up."
Haley remained quiet.
"Damn it."
"Dean?" Sam's hushed voice was suddenly over him.
"She's breathing but she's out," Dean said, feeling her chest rise up methodically. "Move back, I'm getting her out; keep your eyes open fo—"
"Mine! She's mine!"
This time Sam was ready for her and shot a round of rock salt at the spirit. "We gotta get outside; we're running low on shells," he said dryly.
Dean picked Haley up in his arms and practically ran out of the closet; he was getting a bit Closter phobic himself.
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John felt, rather than heard, the loud thump of his shovel hitting wood. 'Finally' he thought, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He thought he'd never reach the damn casket.
Making quick work of the lid, John pulled out of the grave and dug through his bag for the accelerant, salt, and matches. This bitch was over.
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"Haley, wake up," Dean shook her arms, trying to wake his unconscious sibling.
"Dean, why isn't she responding? What the hell did that damn thing do to her?" Sam asked, pacing back and forth in front of Dean.
Dean ignored Sam, focusing solely on his pale little sister. He should've never agreed to this; he should've never allowed their father to bring her here. Haley wasn't ready for a full on hunt; she wasn't ready to be on her own damn it. Why the hell couldn't their dad see that?
"Dean, she's bleeding," Sam said his eyes wide with panic.
"Where?"
"Sit her up, there's blood on your arm; I need to take a look at her back." Sam said softly.
Dean sat back against a tree and carefully maneuvered Haley so that she was sitting in his lap, her chest to his, her head resting comfortably in the crook of his shoulder.
"Damn it, get her legs Sammy," Dean grunted, unable to move down far enough to wrap her leg around him.
Sam helped him get situated and then moved back to examine Haley. He immediately spotted the culprit; a small cut on the back of her head.
"She's got a small gash on the back of her head; it doesn't look too bad." He sighed, slightly relaxed. "Might have one hellava headache though," he said sympathetically.
Dean wrapped his arms loosely around Haley's small waist; she was never going on any hunt without him, ever.
Sam went to stand when his cell phone went off.
"It's dad," he said, looking at the ID. "Dad, where are you?" he asked quickly.
"Cemetery. Is your sister ok?" John asked breathlessly.
Sam frowned. "Yeah, just a small gash on her head but she's good. Dad, why are you at the cemetery? Are you ok?" he asked, listening to John's harsh breathing.
"Salt and burned Abigail's bones. It was Hilda's daughter this whole time, not Hilda." John said dryly. "Listen, I'll be there in a few; stay out of the house," he ordered.
Sam nodded. "Yeah, ok. Are you ok though? You sound—"
"I'm find son, just getting a little to old to be doing this on my own," he interrupted briskly.
"Yeah, see you soon dad."
Sam ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket. "It was Dad; he just burned up Hilda's daughter's bones," he informed. "We were looking for the wrong thing," he added softly.
Dean worried his bottom lip trying to hide the slight bubbling of anger in his gut. His father, the all mighty John Winchester had fucked up and almost gotten Haley killed. There was no excuse; nothing John said could ever excuse sloppy research, not when it involved Sam or Haley.
"Dean, you ok man?" Sam asked concerned.
Dean looked up. "Yeah, m'fine man, when's he comin' back? I wanna get Hay back to the room and treat that head wound," he said solemnly. Haley had yet to wake up.
"Few minutes." Sam shrugged. "Dean, she's ok," Sam said taking a seat beside the older sibling.
Dean turned towards Sam. "I know," he said simply.
Sam nodded and sat beside his brother in silence. It was moments like these that made him question his decision. The fear of leaving and not being around to back his brother and sister up during hunts scared him, but he couldn't live like this anymore…he just couldn't.
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The first sign of waking came an hour after they'd gotten back to the motel. Haley came too slowly, painfully. Her head was pounding and her lungs were on fire.
"Haley, you with us kiddo?"
Haley turned towards the voice, wincing at the spike of pain shooting through her skull. "Wh'happ'nd?" she muttered tiredly.
"You and Casper decided to play seven minutes in heaven…minus the heaven." Dean chuckled softly. "Seriously, how do you feel?" he asked.
"My head hurts and my chest feels like it's on fire," she whimpered, trying to roll onto her side.
"Easy, easy," Dean cooed. "You got a nasty bump on your head, don't move around too much," he said softly.
"You got me out," She stated.
"Course we did." Dean frowned.
"Hmm…where's S'mmy?"
"In the shower."
"Dad?"
"Out getting dinner." At the bar.
"D'n?" she mumbled sleepily.
"Go to sleep Hay; we're not goin' anywhere," he assured, running his fingers through her hair.
Haley sighed softly and rolled towards Dean's side, curling into him. "Kay."
Dean smiled affectionately. This was the last time he was dropping the ball; he'd done it one too many times before. Haley and Sam were everything to him and if protecting them meant going against John Winchesters orders, well then, he was prepared to do it. Little good solider be damned.
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