The House That Wasn't There

by mmm1912titanic

Finding a place to rest during a snow storm should have been a dream come true. But when you're the Winchester's nothing is ever that simple

Dean's eyes ached. He had been driving all night and in the blinding snow he must have missed the turn onto Hwy 95. "Finally" he mumbled as he saw a lit sign for an exit. He was almost right on top of it. With a quick turn of the wheel he skidded across the highway throwing Sam against the door.

"What the hell!" Sam cried, jolting awake.

Dean laughed and slapped Sam lightly on the chest. "That's pay back for all the snoring".

"I don't snore." Sam groused.

"Yeah you do, man."

"Do not," Sam mumbled as he settled back to in his seat. Rubbing grit from his eyes, he asked, "Where the hell are we?"

"Uh, somewhere in Virginia…I think."

"Virginia! We're supposed to be in Massachusetts!"

"Hey, do you want to drive in this hell? I could pull over…"

Sam snorted, "You? Let me drive your baby through a snowstorm? Yeah, right". A light appeared out of the darkness. "Hey, Dean, there's a house up ahead. Pull up. We'll ask for directions.

Dean didn't argue. There wasn't any point. "Look's like it's the only one out here," he mumbled to himself as he followed Sam out of the car. His eyes swept back and forth but he could see nothing outside of the lights cast by the house. For a second it looked like the house was in ruins. Dean blinked his eyes and the house resumed the shape of a well-kept Victorian mansion.

Damn snow, he thought running to catch up with Sam who was already knocking on the door.

"Hello," Sam hollered. "Is anyone home?" No one came to the door for so long that Dean had just started to say "Come on Sam, no one is…" when the door was pulled open by an old woman dressed in slacks and a sweater that blared, "Happy Holidays!" She took them in with a concerned sweep of her eyes. "Oh, you poor boys. Come in before you catch your death".

Sam shot Dean a look then followed her. Inside, the house was nice and cozily warm. The smell of baking bread filled the air and Dean could feel his mouth-watering, all unease about the house dropped away.

The woman smiled when she saw Dean's hungry look "I just pulled a loaf of pumpkin bread from the oven. Would you like a slice?"

"Hell yeah!' said Dean with a large smile "Just show me to the kitchen."

She laughed and gestured down the hallway, "Help yourself. My name is Melina," looking at Sam she said, "How did you two end up way out in the boonies?" as they followed Dean's quickly retreating backside.

Sam shot a look after his brother. "My brother's not the stop and ask for directions type."

"I heard that," Dean hollered.

Melina laughed again, "What man is? Oh well, you two are welcome to stay until this storm is over."

"Oh, no. We couldn't," Sam protested.

"Nonsense. I'm not sending you back into that storm. You'll just get even more lost. No, you'll stay here. I've already got a room made up".

Startled, Dean turned away from kitchen door. "You do?"

"Of course, I always keep a spare room ready incase of…unexpected visitors."

Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged in a 'what can we do?' fashion. Shrugging, Dean turned back to Melina and shot her his most winning smile. "So is there anything to go along with that pumpkin bread, and what do I have to do to get it?"

Xxxxxxxx

Dean felt good. He was in a nice warm bed, full and cheering inside at the brothers' good luck. Of course it was bad that they were so off target, but this was way better than some crappy motel in some dingy town. His mind wandered back to the dinner Melina had prepared for them. Beside the pumpkin bread there had been chicken, lightly fried so that the skin was nice and crispy just like Dean was sure he would have liked it if he had ever actually had a real home cooked meal. To go along with it there was steamed vegetables, mashed potatoes and eggnog. Dean sleepily patted his full stomach "Boy, we are so lucky," he mumbled just as his eyes began to drift closed.

It was then that he heard the arguing. At first he was sure that he had fallen asleep and this was some sort of strange waking dream. But the voices were getting louder. Pushing himself up on his elbows, Dean looked over at Sam, out cold on the next bed. Not wanting to wake him, Dean quietly slipped from the bed and padded out of the room and down the stairs. The voices were clearer now, and Dean could make out the fear in the woman's voice and the anger in the man's.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Shawn? Put that gun away right now. You're scaring our daughter."

Pausing at the bottom, he reached for the cane, jutting out from an umbrella stand that Dean was pretty sure hadn't been there when he'd came in, and taking a firm grip brought it up in a parody of a batters stance.

"She isn't my daughter. She's some sort of hell spawn!"

"That isn't true Daddy," this voice was new and stopped Dean just behind the door.

What the hell? He thought. Who are these people? I know this is a big house, but wouldn't Melina have mentioned it if there was anyone else staying over?

Slowly, Dean moved to peak around the door. He could see the back of the man and next to the fireplace a tall woman stood, clutching a little girl to her. The little girl was glaring at the man in evident hatred. Dean could feel the heat of it from all the way behind the door. It made him shudder and he began to wonder if maybe the guy wasn't crazy after all. No little kid should give anyone a look that twisted, Dean thought as he considered his next move. The dad made it for him "Don't talk to me you devil! You killed Devon. I didn't want to believe it, but you did!"

"I didn't mean to Daddy," the girl protested but even to Dean the words seemed false and were belied by the cold, calculating look in her eyes. "Its just that I couldn't stand his crying. I just wanted him to stop." She looked imploringly up at her mother. "You believe me don't you, mother?"

The woman looked down at her daughter and to Dean it seemed like her face went slack for a moment before it took on a look of anger. Her eyes darted to her husband and she said in a hushed tone, "I want you out of this house, Shawn. I will not stand by and let you threaten me and my daughter." Turning away she headed for the door, pushing her daughter in front of her.

Dean's eyes darted to Shawn who was slowly shaking his head back and forth. "No, I can't let you do that. God forgive me, but I can't." Before Dean could react, the man shot his wife in the back.

"No!" Dean cursed as he flung the door wide. Raising the cane he leapt for the man. A look of complete and utter shock crossed his face at the site of Dean. "What," he stammered as Dean swung the cane at him. He ducked away from it, gun coming back up groaned. "I'm so sorry," he moaned.

And then he pulled the trigger.

Xxxxxxx

Sam was jerked rudely out of the sound sleep that he had been enjoying when a cry sounded from downstairs. Groggily, he glanced over to Dean's bed, his brothers name dying on his lips when he saw the bed was empty. Cursing, Sam jumped out of bed nearly tripping on the weapons bag. Sam skid around the corner and nearly flew down the stairs, not sure why he was so worried. But fear ate at him, giving wings to his feet. He paused at the bottom of the stairs trying to pinpoint where the noise had come from. It was only then, standing there without a weapon, that he realized what an idiot he was. Great Sam, going to rescue your brother with a poem or something? A groan sounded from a room off the Sam's right and he slowly crept up to the door. Peering around it, Sam saw Dean sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood around his head.

"Dean!" he cried, rushing in. Dropping to his knees besides his brother, he took in the gash across Dean's temple. Sam grabbed Dean's shoulders and shook him. "Dean, come on, man. Wake up".

A mumbled, "Son of a Bitch," answered him and Sam was relieved to see Dean's eyes open.

"Hey man, thought I lost you for a minute. What the hell are you doing down here?" Dean propped himself up on an elbow and ran his hand down his face. "I heard these people..." Suddenly, he realized that he and Sam were the only two people in the room. "Where did they go?"

"Who?" Sam said startled by the shock he saw on his brother's face.

"The couple and their creepy little girl!" Wincing, Dean levered himself to his feet, his head spun and he would have keeled right over if Sam hadn't grabbed his arm. "Lay off dude," Dean snapped, "I'm fine".

"Yeah? If you're so fine where did all the blood come from?" Sam said shooting his brother a look.

Dean blinked and patted his head, wincing when he came to the gash. "That son of a bitch shot me."

"It seems like you've met our resident ghosts, Dean." Startled, both brothers turned around to see Melina standing in the open doorway, a grim look on her face.

"Um, yeah. Its not like I could miss all the yelling," he said, throwing Sam a look that asked why he hadn't heard all the noise as well.

"Oh, don't be mad at your brother, Dean. Only certain people can hear them."

"Yeah?" said Sam, taking a step forward, "And why didn't you mention them before?"

"And scare you boys back into that blizzard? I don't think so. You both looked like you needed a nice warm bed and some good home cooked food, not a ghost story."

The boys exchanged looks. "We don't scare as easily as you might think," Dean said, a ghost of a smile flittering across his face.

"Yeah," said Sam. "This is kind of our stock and trade".

"Really? Well, that's wonderful! You can help me lay those poor dear souls to rest."

"Don't seem so poor and dear to me," Dean muttered. He was really beginning to feel the headache. "I saw a guy shoot his wife. So where's the body buried?"

"Back when you left it," she said as if the answer should have been obvious.

"Excuse me?"

"Easy Dean" said Sam putting out a restraining hand. "Look, Melina, my brother has a pretty short fuse so if you wouldn't mind explaining a little…?"

"Oh, of course," Melina answered with a breathy little laugh. "How silly of me to expect you to know all about it." She moved over to one of the bookcases that lined the walls. "Now let me see…ah, here it is!" She turned around.

Sam looked at the huge book she carried. "What is it?"

"Oh, I put this together after my first run in with the Soto's".

"The who?" Dean asked.

"They were the family that used to own this house. The father killed the entire family, god bless him."

"Huh," Dean muttered to Sam "Guy shouldn't be blessed, bastard shot me".

"Now, let me see…ah here we are." Turning the book around she pointed to a picture on the page. "This is the family, 'Shawn, Melissa, Catherine and Devon."

Dean and Sam looked down at the picture, which showed a smiling couple. A little boy perched on the woman's knee, while behind them, with a hand on each of her parent's shoulders, stood a little girl.

"That's them," said Dean. "The people who were in here".

"Yes," said Melina sadly. "The father went insane after his son died. Killed the entire family before anyone could stop him. When the police got here they found him sitting calmly on the sofa. He told them he'd killed them because his daughter was some sort of demon," Melina clucked her tongue in distaste. "Really, the only demon was he, the poor man".

Sam leaned over to Melina, "What happened to the bodies?"

"Oh, what a morbid question!"

"Please," said Sam, "It could really help".

Melina looked from Sam to Dean, her face softening. "Well," she quickly flipped through pages. "Here we are. The father was taken to an insane asylum and when he died he was cremated. The mother was buried in Grace Church cemetery."

"And the little girl?" asked Dean, a shiver going down his spine when he remember the look he'd seen on her face.

"Now, that's the strangest thing about this case. They never did find her body. The father would only say that he'd put her someplace where she couldn't hurt any more people." Shaking her head, she murmured, "Sad, really that he would think that such a sweet looking child could be evil. I'm mean really," she continued as she set the book aside and got to her feet, "There was never any evidence that the child was anything more than an innocent."

"But what did you mean when you said I had come back?" Dean pressed because it seemed like the old woman was getting off track.

"Oh, it's only my own theory but it seems to me that whoever sees them isn't truly seeing ghosts but actually taking a step back into the past."

"But he saw me, shouldn't I have been invisible or something?"

"I don't know, this is the first time anyone has said someone saw them." The woman looked genuinely startled.

Sam gently said, "What do you mean? Have other people seen them?"

"Yes, not every time someone comes over, but inevitably someone will see them. It's sad really. It doesn't seem to serve any purpose but to frighten the person who sees it. After all, it can't be pleasant to watch a family get murdered."

"I only saw him shoot the mother. What did the others see?"

"I'm guessing you stepped in after the mother got shot, huh Dean?" said Sam, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course, I did, I didn't know it was all some sort of creepy rewind."

"Well," said Melina giving Dean a calculating look. "Most people say they see Shawn shoot both Melissa and Catherine. But they all either run from the room in terror or faint after that so none of them have ever been able to tell me what he did with Catherine's body."

Sam was surprised at the disappointment in the woman's tone. It almost sounds like she invites people in, in the hope that someone will be able to complete the mystery for her!

"Have you ever seen them?" Sam asked.

Melina sighed and shook her head. "Mores the pity. I'm the one who owns the place and they won't even say boo to me!"

"Ok," said Dean "Sam, could I talk to you for a minute…in private".

"Sure," said Sam following his brother out into the hall. "So what are you thinking? Is the little girl haunting the house, hoping her body will be found and laid to rest?"

"I don't know, Sam. We haven't met a ghost yet who only wants to be laid to rest. Usually they've got some sort of freaky death wish for mankind."

"There's a first time for everything, though. Maybe this time we'll actually be able to get through a hunt without getting hurt."

Dean gave his brother a look and said, "I was shot, or did that fact completely pass you by?"

"You heard Melina," said Sam turning back toward the library, "You weren't really shot." "Yeah," Dean muttered, following his brother, "At least not now."

Xxxxx

"Did you boys have a nice chat?" asked Melina when they walked back into the library.

"We were just discussing what to do," said Sam ignoring the hissed "Sam!" from Dean. "Who do you think has been haunting this place? I mean, you must have a theory or something."

Dean stared at his brother in shock. Usually Sam would be the last person to tell anyone about their plans for a hunt. Must have decided that since we're stuck in this house, which probably doesn't have a computer let alone an Internet connection, he has to ask the only person present. Still, it bothered Dean that Sam seemed so willing to trust Melina. Well, you've been trusting her all night, why stop now?

"I've always thought it must be Catherine showing us what happened. I mean it makes little sense for it to be Shawn. After all, he was cremated and I read that ghosts usually disappear if they don't have a body to tie them to this plain."

Startled Sam nodded. Wow, he thought, this old woman has really done her homework.

Why doesn't she just move, thought Dean, it can't be pleasant living with ghosts.

Shaking his head he returned his attention to the conversation going on between his brother and Melina. "So, you don't think its Melissa? I mean she was trying to protect her daughter. Maybe she still is."

"I thought of that, but from what I've read, Melissa was a very weak willed woman. I doubt that she really cared about anyone enough to stick around after her death."

"I don't know," said Dean remembering the look he'd seen in Melissa's eyes, "I think she had a lot more backbone than people gave her credit for."

Melina looked at him and for a moment he thought he saw a look of pleasure cross her face, but it was so quickly replaced by thoughtful contemplation that he wasn't sure he had seen it at all.

Melina got to her feet. "There isn't anything you boys can do tonight. So why don't you go back to bed and you can look around tomorrow. I, for one, am exhausted. Goodnight boys," Melina smiled at them and then headed up the stairs. The boys looked at each other.

"I am kind of tired," Sam said. "And you look out of it, Dean."

Dean gave his brother an annoyed look but he had to admit that he felt really weak. Must be all that time travel he thought eying the puddle on the floor. Not to mention being shot…

Shaking his head he followed Sam up the stairs. He'd feel better in the morning.

Xxxxxx

The next morning found the world outside still whited out. Sighing, Dean stretched in front of the window and said to Sam over his shoulder, "Looks like even if we wanted to go anywhere we wouldn't be able to move the car."

Sam nodded. "I'm going to take a shower, then we can search the house."

Dean turned around, "I took a quick look around when I woke up; this place is massive."

Sam frowned. "It didn't look that big last night." Opening the door Sam stuck his head out and looked to his left and was surprised to see that the hallway continued on past the stairs. He could have sworn…shaking his head, he looked down the hallway to the right and saw that it too didn't end where he thought it would. Must have missed the fact that it curves to the left he, thought with a shrug. "I'm getting that shower now," Sam told Dean, grabbing a clean pair of clothes and headed down the hall to the bathroom.

Dean finished pulling on fresh clothes and headed down the stairs to see if there was anything to eat. He found Melina in the kitchen. She smiled warmly as he walked in. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," said Dean returning the smile, "You know, discounting the whole ghost thing."

She laughed. "You are quite the joker aren't you, Dean? I bet you never let anyone past those barriers you've erected around yourself."

Dean blinked, surprised at her bluntness. "Yeah, well can't be all weepy when there's a job to be done," he replied.

"Hmm," she said, giving him a wry look. "I made some pancakes I hope that's all right."

"No, that's great, I haven't had home-made pancakes since…" Dean was at a loss. He couldn't remember the last time. He used to make them when Sam was little because for a while they'd been all he would eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Boy, Dean had never been so sick of pancakes as he had been then. For years he couldn't even look at pancakes without feeling ill. Sam had never seemed to be as bothered. "How big is this house, anyway? It looked…smaller last night."

"I'm sure it was just the storm that made it seem that way," Melina said with an easy smile. "This house has 32 rooms. Means it qualifies as a mansion."

"Wow" said Sam as he entered the kitchen. "Are all the rooms in use?"

"Heaven's no. It would take an entire battalion of maids to keep it up if they were. No, I've closed off the rooms on the third floor and half the rooms on the second have been empty for years. Mainly only my bedroom, the kitchen, the library, and the guest room are completely furnished. The others may have a little of furniture but not much."

"If you don't mind my asking," Sam said, watching her face, "Why did you move into such a big place if you were only going to use a tiny fraction of it?"

Melina sighed, "Me and my husband bought it together. We had always dreamed of having a big family. We had the money to buy this place and I really fell in love with it."

"What happened to your husband?" Dean asked.

"He died, so did our two children," Melina turned away, digging a handkerchief out of her pocket. With a sniffle, she turned back her eyes bright with unshed tears. "But that was a long time ago, I try not to think about it too often."

Sam frowned. He really wanted to know what had killed Melina's family but it seemed impolite to question her further.

"If you boys don't need me anymore, I have some work I need to do. I'm a day trader, you know. That's how I can afford to live in this big heap now that I've retired."

"Does that mean you have Internet access?" Sam asked perking up.

"I have dial up; they haven't gotten wireless out to this area of the world yet. Feel free to use it; there should be a phone jack in your room." With sad smile she disappeared through the doorway.

Sam waited until her footsteps had faded before turning to his brother. "Do you want to take a look around while I do some digging on this place?"

Dean nodded. "You know how I feel about research, Sammy."

"Uh, huh…never the twain shall meet," said Sam with a laugh.

"Exactly. You handle the books, college boy, and I'll take care of the heavy lifting."

Sam bit off his retort because his brother still seemed kind of out of it. Frowning, he watched as Dean shoved back from the table leaving his pancakes all but untouched. He'd only eaten one.

That's so not like him, thought Sam, with a frown, usually he would have skarved down the entire stack and asked for seconds. Shrugging his brothers diet habits off, Sam finished eating and headed upstairs. Time to see what he could find out about the Soto's.

Xxxxxxxx

Dean paused at the top of the stairs. Left or right? Shrugging, he headed to the left, figuring one direction was as good as the next. Opening doors at random he saw that Melina hadn't been kidding when she said that the rooms were empty. Finally he came to a room that had been made up as a nursery. The room was surprisingly warm and sunny.

Slowly, Dean stepped into the room taking it all it with a sweep of his eyes. A crib sat in front of a large window that looked out on trees and lots of green grass. Moving to the window Dean stared in amazement at the acres of land that surrounded the house. In the distance he could see other houses, but none of them were closer than an acre or so. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; he slowly turned around to see Catherine standing in the doorway staring at him.

"Who are you?" she asked titling her head to the side. Dean felt a chill slide down his spine at the look he saw in her cold eyes. The sound of a baby crying nearly made Dean jump out of his skin. Startled, he swung to his left, looking into the crib which as been empty only a moment before.

"Holy shit," he exclaimed. "What the hell is going on?"

"What are you doing in Devon's room?" There was a steely undertone to the girl's voice. "Maybe I should scream for my daddy".

"You mean the Daddy who thinks you're some kind of hell spawn? Oh yeah, I'm sure he'll come running," he taunted.

The girl hissed, balling her hands into fists. "Don't talk about me like that."

"Or what, you'll kick me in the shins?"

"No," the girl moved so fast the Dean didn't even see her cover the space between him and the door. "I'll do something much worse." Before Dean could react, a force that felt like a sledgehammer being slammed into his sternum sent him crashing through the window. The last thing he remembered before he hit the ground was the girl's laughing face.

Xxxxxxxx

He was cold. So cold that it felt like his bones would snap if he moved. Moaning, Dean slowly resurfaced. For a second he felt disorientated and couldn't make out why everything was so white. It slowly dawned on him that he was lying in a snow bank. His eyes focused on the wall above him, and he was drawn to the unbroken window above his head.

What the hell? That window should be toast. Dean drew in a deep breath, feeling the cold burn a hole in his lungs. He was dimly aware that if he didn't move soon he'd freeze to death. Rolling to his side, he tried to get his legs underneath him, but a shooting pain from his knee collapsed him back into the snow.

Damn it! Ok, think, Dean, think! Gathering his arms underneath him, he began to drag himself through the snow. It was painfully slow going; and with each passing second Dean could feel less and less of his body. It was only shear stubbornness that kept him moving. No way is some punk ass little kid going to be the end of me! Skinny bitch; he'd show her that you can't get rid of a Winchester with such a lame as weapon as snow.

Of course, she had tossed him out of a window first.

Finally he bumped up against the wall of the house. Using it as a crutch he climbed to his feet and promptly fell over as his legs refused to carry his weight. Spitting snow out of his mouth, he determidly crawled back up the wall. This time his legs held him, but only just. Slowly, he shuffled along, the wind throwing handfuls of snow into his face. God, it would be so nice to just lie down. The snow looked so soft and inviting.

Come on Dean, he chided himself. Stay focused, there has to be a door along here somewhere.

After what seemed like an age he saw the door. He stumbled and grabbed the doorknob to stop himself from face planting. He rattled the handle but the door refused to open. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," Dean moaned through clacking teeth. He looked at the window that was inset in the door. He brought back his fist, and sent it flying into the glass. He was only dimly aware of the glass shattering as his grip on the doorknob weakened, sending him tumbling back into the snow.

Sam, he thought, please have heard that.

Xxxxxxx

Sam looked up from the laptop when he heard glass breaking. Frowning, he got off the bed and stuck his head out the door. "Dean?" he called. "Melina?" When no one answered him, he headed for the kitchen where the sound seemed to have come from. Walking into the room he was blasted by freezing air about the same moment he saw the broken glass smattered with crimson. Moving swiftly to the door, Sam threw it open to reveal Dean slumped in the snow. "Dean!" Sam swooped down on his brother, grabbing him under the arms and dragging him into the kitchen. "Oh God, what happened to you?" Sam murmured as he laid Dean out on the kitchen floor. Dean was soaked through and Sam quickly began to strip him down. He had just managed to wrestle Dean's shoes off when he heard a gasp.

Nearly falling in his haste to turn, Sam saw Melina behind him a look of shock on her face. "Sam! What happened?"

"I don't know, I heard glass breaking and when I got down here he was out in the snow."

"Here, get him up and bring him upstairs, I'll go run a hot bath." Turning, she hurried away leaving Sam to hull Dean's inert form from the floor. Staggering he made it to the bathroom where Melina helped Sam get Dean out of his wet jeans and into the bath. His brother's skin was an unhealthy shade of blue and his breaths came in short, shallow bursts. "Come on, Dean," Sam said, shocked by the large bruise in the center of Dean's chest, which looked suspiciously like a handprint. "Don't die on me now".

Xxxxxxx

Dean slowly became aware of two voices talking somewhere above him.

"Why do you think he went outside?"

"He wouldn't have; not on his own anyone. We have to get him to a hospital"

"That's what I came downstairs to tell you: the phones lines are down."

"What!"

"Yes, the storm must have knocked them out"

"Shit" There was a pause and then Dean heard Sam say, "How about the roads, do you think they're clear yet?"

Dean thought Melina must have shook her head because Sam muttered a curse. He willed his heavy lids to open; "Sam"

"Dean, hey buddy I'm here"

"Little girl…Catherine…we so have to salt and burn her ass."

Sam looked over at Melina who just struggled saying that she had no clue what Dean was talking about either. Turning back, Sam asked, "Why Dean?"

"Bitch tossed me out a window"

Sam raised his eyebrows in shock. He so had not expected that. Running a hand down his face he asked Melina "Do you have any idea where she's buried?"

"No, all I've been able to find out is that she's somewhere in the house. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful."

Sam bit his lip, trying to think. From what he had learned of the crime, the mother had been dead long enough that she had started to rot before the father called the police. It had been winter so that probably meant she had been dead at least a few days. What would a father do with a demon daughter? Burn her or bury her? Since he had told the police he'd buried her, Sam thought he'd stick with that explanation. "Ok unless there's a hidden passage that no one has been able to find, it probably means that he buried her somewhere on the ground floor. Does this place have a basement?"

"Yes, but that's the first place the police checked."

Sam had figured that, but he thought it wouldn't hurt to start there and work there way up anyway. He turned back to Dean. "Come on, let's get you out of the tub and into bed."

"I'll go get some ice for that knee," said Melina leaving the room.

Dean was about to get out of the tub when he noticed he no longer had his clothes. Sinking back into the water, Dean warily asked, "What happened to my clothes?"

Sam couldn't hide his smirk; he waggled his eyes brows and shot a glance out the door after Melina.

"Oh…dude you have to be kidding me."

"Nope, she said you're the hottest things she's seen in years."

Dean groaned, "Great, just great. A grandma thinks I'm hot."

"Well, at least you know you've still got it." Sam ducked as Dean threw the soap at him.

Xxxxxx

Sam got Dean settled into bed, his knee propped up on pillows and sandwiched between 2 ice packs, with enough blankets on top of him to make even an snowman warm. Dean had protested being treated like an invalid at first until his knee buckled with something that felt like two ice picks grinding together. After that, he had been half-dragged, half-carried to bed, which he had taken with little grace and even less humor.

"Why am I always the one getting tossed out of windows?" he groused as Sam finished putting the ice on his knee, which hurt like hell. He shifted on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position.

Sam looked at his brother. Dean's eyes were rimmed with dark circles and the vertical scratches across his face, combined with the nasty bruise on his forehead, made his usually energetic brother look haggard. He was just about to say something when Melina breezed in.

"I come bearing gifts," she said looking at Dean. "Here, I had some vicadin left over from when I broke my hip." She handed Dean a glass of water and the pills with an attitude that said, take them willingly or I'll just be forced to hold you down and make you take them.

Dean swallowed the pills, which seemed to take immediate affect. As he was drifting off, he thought he heard a voice trying to tell him something, but Dean was too far-gone and he slipped off to sleep before he could make sense of the words.

Xxxx

"What the hell are you doing in my bed?"

Dean woke with a start to see Shawn Soto leaning over him with a cane that looked suspiciously like the one Dean had used on Soto the night before.

Dean raised his hands. "Wow, man, take it easy. I'm not going to hurt you. I can't exactly get up," he said gesturing at his busted knee.

Shawn glanced down and a frown crossed his face when he saw the damage. "This is bad," he murmured, lowering the cane. Dean took a quick breath of relief. "Do you mind if I take a look at it, I've taken a few classes on medicine," Shawn continued, apparently having forgotten that Dean was a complete stranger.

"Um, sure," Dean said, thrown by the complete 180. Now that he was more awake, he could see that the ice and bandages had disappeared leaving behind a knee that looked more like raw meat then a part of a living body. Feeling bile rise in his throat, Dean looked at Shawn. "So what's the verdict Doc? Will I ever walk again?"

Shawn looked up, an angry expression on his face; he had obviously caught the sarcasm in Dean's voice. "Look, I don't have to help you. I should call the police." His eyes narrowed, "How did you end up like this anyway?"

"Your psycho daughter threw me out of a window, that's how," Dean retorted. The minute he said it, he realized he had made a mistake because a look of shock and anger crossed Shawn's face.

"What did you call my daughter?"

Dean shrugged; he wasn't going to be the one to back down. "I just call it like I see it. Besides I'm not the one who thought she was the spawn of Satan." Shawn's face went white.

"My daughter is no such thing…she's an, she's an angel", but Dean could hear a note of doubt in Shawn's voice. Shawn rose, "I'm going to call the police."

"Wait," Dean tried to get his addled wits in line. Damn it! There had to be something that would make Shawn believe him. What was the date that Shawn had killed his family? It was sometime in December, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember it!

Deciding the risk another question, Dean slowly asked, "Shawn, has Devon died yet...Ok, from the look on your face I'm going to guess that's a no".

"Who are you?" Shawn asked, teeth grinding together.

"I'm just trying to help. Your daughter, Catherine? She's going to kill Devon unless you can do something to stop her."

"No," Shawn said, turning away from Dean, his arms going up to press against his skull, "Catherine loves Devon, she would never…"

"Look, she hates his crying right? She's…" Dean stopped talking because Shawn had suddenly gone very still.

"What did you say?"

"Uh, Catherine hates to hear Devon cry."

"He's not crying," swinging around, Shawn moaned, "He is always crying, oh God," and turning, he plunged off down the hall.

Cursing, Dean scrambled off the bed, using the wall as a crutch. Dragging himself along, he staggered after him. He had almost made it to the nursery; when a cry that sent chills down Dean's spine, rent the air.

"Noooo! Oh no, Catherine what have you done? What have you done?"

Dean swung into the room to see Shawn standing near the crib, a lifeless infant clutched to his chest. There was shock in his eyes as he stared at Catherine. For her part, she was amazingly calm.

"Daddy, it was an accident! I just wanted him to stop crying!" She tried to put her arms around her father's waist, but he jerked away.

"Stay away from me. What is wrong with you?"

Dean saw the look of hatred cross the child's face, turning her from a worried and remorseful sibling into something far worse and back again in an instant.

"Daddy…" the voice trailed off in the face of what she saw in her father's eyes. With a sob she turned to the door, and for the first time seemed to notice Dean. "You", her eyes narrowed as they lit on Dean, but she smiled with she saw his knee. "Oh, poor baby," she practically purred as she moved towards him. "That must hurt".

"You stay away from him Catherine, I'm warning you".

Shawn's words seemed to snap Catherine back into little girl mode. Casting one last look at her father, she ran from the room, crying for her mother. Dean was sure she would have kicked him, but he swayed out of her way before she could. He had started to turn back to Shawn, when his leg gave out with a snap sending him tumbling to the floor. When he managed to look up again he was alone in an empty room.

"Sam!"

Xxxxxxxx

Sam was sure he had only felt Dean for a minute, but when he returned to the room, he found an empty bed. "Sam!" The voice was faint but definitely his brother. Confused, Sam returned to the hall "Dean, where are you?"

"Sammm" this time the voice held a note of anger and seemed to becoming from the left. Heading down the hall, Sam came across his brother sprawled out in one of the empty rooms.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing in here? I can't leave you for five minutes without you getting into trouble."

Dean glared up at his brother from his position on the floor. "Just help me up smartass." Sam grabbed Dean's arm and hauled him up, supporting his weight as Dean faltered.

"I'm good man, get off me".

Sam snorted, "Yeah right. Now stop being a baby and let me help you." Dean scowled but even he had to admit that the odds of his getting back to bed on his own were pretty slim. When the got back to the room, Sam helped Dean get the ice rearranged around his knee before asking him what had happened.

Dean sighed, "I saw them again."

"Who? The Soto's?"

Dean nodded, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah, I guess this used to be the parents room 'cause Shawn Soto walked in and wanted to know what the hell I was doing in his house". Dean quickly ran through what had happened.

"Ok," said Sam getting up to pace. "It doesn't seem like you see any of this in any type of order."

"No shit, Sherlock" Dean rolled his eyes.

"Well, look Michael J. Fox, its not like there's a manual for this."

Dean sighed. "I know, this is just kind of freaking me out a little".

Sam was surprised by honesty in Dean's voice. "Wow, I was expecting one of the patented Dean 'I'm okay, don't ask how I feel 'cause I'll just tell you to shut up' lines."

Dean sighed, "Its kind of hard to be sarcastic when you can't walk. Just tell me what you've learned so far."

Sam sighed, "Not much. I did dig up something new though, Shawn was a professor of Religious Philosophy. And he used to give talks on demonology."

"Did you read any of them?"

"Didn't get a chance; we lost the connection around the same time you did your swan dive."

Dean was about to reply, but a noise jerked his head toward the door.

"Dean?"

"Quiet, I think…I heard something; sounds like…chanting" Dean started to get up but Sam said, "Ok, hold it right there Rambo. You're not going anywhere on that leg".

Dean glared at his brother, "Just help me up, stretch."

Sam hesitated than sighed, "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Xxxxxxx

"Head down the stairs." They staggered down and Dean focused on the sound, which was getting louder with each step. From the way Sam hesitated at the bottom, Dean knew this wasn't something his brother could hear. "Damn ghosts," he cursed as his knee sent urgent signals to his brain to stop. But from the sound of the voice, he was close "He's in the library."

Sam just nodded, too out of breath to reply. God, would it kill his brother to lose a little muscle tone? He thought. It would sure make carrying him easier.

They reached the library door and Dean shoved it open. From the "Holy shit" that Dean uttered, Sam had to guess he was seeing something he wasn't. This was confirmed when Dean suddenly vanished sending Sam crashing into the door jab. "Damn it!" he cried rubbing his shoulder. "What the hell is going on?"

xxxxxxx

Dean was just as startled as Sam when his crutch disappeared. Dean staggered but his grip of the handle kept him on his feet. Inside the room was Shawn: he was bent over a heap on the floor, which Dean recognized as his wife. A quick scan of the room showed that Catherine was nowhere to be seen. The chanting Dean had heard was a pray.

"Shawn." The man looked up a look of shock on his face.

"Whattt? I shot you and you, you disappeared!"

"Yeah, well now, I've reappeared so where is Catherine, Shawn?"

"I…I don't know, I was a little distracted by your vanishing act. It's not every day someone you've shot gets up and walks away."

Dean didn't miss the sarcasm, but he decided not to dignify it with a response. "Shawn, Catherine is dangerous…"

"Don't you think I know that?" Shawn said, getting to his feet. "After you left last time, I did some digging. You were right, she is possessed." Dean didn't think he'd mentioned her being possessed, but thought Shawn might break down if he interpreted him now.

"Look Shawn, what were you planning on doing about her, cause by now she's probably caught on to the fact that you know what she is."

The man blinked, dragging a shaking hand down his face. "I really didn't have a plan past shooting her. I thought that would do it."

Dean laughed sarcastically, "Aren't you suppose to be a professor of this sort of stuff?"

Shawn looked offended. "It's not like I ever thought any of this was real. Oh God, what am I going to do. Melina, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Dean felt bad for the guy as he bent over and gathered his wife into his arms.

Melina.

Frowning, Dean said, "Look, isn't your wife's name…" but he was interrupted by a voice coming from behind him.

"Hello, hunter, I was wondering when you'd show up."

Dean nearly snapped his neck his head turned so fast. Catherine was behind him, a large book in her hands.

"So, you've come back to play; has daddy be nice to you?" She was passed him so fast that his eyes took a second to readjust. "Daddy, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you loved me."

Shawn shot his daughter a look full of loathing. "I loved my daughter. I don't know who you are, but you are not her."

She laughed, "Of course I am. I'm what you made me, Daddy." With a wave of her hand, she sent Shawn flying into the wall. He crashed into the fires irons, knocking them over. Shawn's face went white.

"Shawn, what's she talking about?" Dean could feel his heart sinking, please don't tell me he's in on this. If he is, I'm so screwed.

"I…" Shawn's voice faltered, but his eyes never left Catherine's face. "I didn't…I wouldn't…"

"Oh, but you did," Catherine purred moving to stand besides her father. Her lips brushed his ear, and the man shuttered, trying to jerk away, but Catherine kept him in place. "Don't you remember?" Looking at Dean she smiled, her blues eyes now entirely black, "He thought it would be interesting to see if he could summon a demon. Don't lie, daddy."

Tears filled Shawn's eyes, "No…it didn't work; I would have known…"

Dean shut his eyes, silently cursing. Amateurs! When would they learn not to mess with stuff they couldn't understand?

"Oh, but it did work Daddy. You summoned me." There was real anger in her tone as she straightened up, swinging around to face Shawn. "The only hitch was instead of possessing you, I was forced into the body of your daughter; a baby not even old enough to have teeth." Scorn dripped from her voice and something clicked in Dean's head.

"It was a spell of calling wasn't it? A spell to force a demon into whatever form you want".

A scowl contorted the girls features, "Yes, but this spell had been twisted to allow the demon to take control of the caller. It should have worked!"

"But it didn't huh? Too bad. You would have made a great looking dude."

She was suddenly in his face. "You shouldn't taunt me; your nothing but a filthy, stinking human."

"Sucks to be one of us, huh bitch?"

Pain suddenly exploded in his belly; looking down he could see her arm, buried up to the wrist, protruding from his stomach. A hoarse cry escaped and he fell to his knees.

She whispered in his ear, "Do not mock me again, or a will kill you." With that, she withdrew her hand. Dean gasped, expecting to see his intestines on his lap, but his shirt was devoid of blood. In shock, he looked up at her and she smiled. "I can make you experience pain like you've never imagined and it will go on and on until I grow tired of you. Never forget that."

Dean's eyes caught motion from behind her. Shawn had picked up the poker that had been half knocked into the fire when Catherine threw him against the wall. Without a sound he was on his feet and swinging. Just as Catherine began to turn, Dean grabbed her wrist. In fury, she was turning back toward him, when the poker connected with the side of her head. Blood and bone shot out in an arch that painted the wall and the right side of Shawn's face, crimson. With a snarl Catherine whipped herself around to face Shawn, "You…". She never completed her sentence for Dean took the opportunity and tackled her.

Before she could get back to her feet, Shawn slammed the poker into her neck. The demon, gagged as the red-hot poker sliced clean through her spinal cord. The minute it was severed the life seemed to leak from her, but Dean knew it would take a lot more than a broken back to stop a demon.

"Do you have any chalk? Or a pen? Anything that will write on the floor."

Shawn shook his head, the blood on his face giving him a barbaric look. "I don't think so."

Dean bit his lip, if he didn't act fast Catherine would be back up and Dean had a feeling they wouldn't live long enough to pull this stunt twice. "Ok…hand me the poker."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Trust me," said Dean choking back the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of what he was about to do, "You so do not want to know." Shawn's face paled as he realized Dean's plan but he determinately handed over the poker.

"If you want to leave…" Dean looked up at Shawn.

"No, this was my mistake. I'd do whatever you're about to do if I knew how.

Dean nodded and stealing himself began to carve a devils trap into Catherine's stomach. God, this is so sick. What the hell am I doing? I don't even know if this is going to work. But if it didn't, he and Shawn were in big trouble.

Xxxxxxx

Sam looked around the empty library, half expecting Dean to jump out from behind the door. When that didn't appear like it was going to happen, Sam headed towards the bookcase. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before, but Melina hadn't really let him look at her scrapbook for very long.

He frowned. It was kind of odd that he hadn't been more interested in the book. Usually that was something he would have been all over. He looked at the large collection of books. Now where had she put it? After nearly an hour of searching, he found it hidden behind a group of books that on closer inspection turned out to be by Jane Austin. Sitting down on the floor, Sam opened the book and began to leaf through it. It was full of pictures and newspaper clippings.

Melina and Shawn on their honeymoon, 1918

A chill went down Sam's spine. Melina? Hadn't she said the mother's name was Melissa? Quickly Sam flipped to the first newspaper clipping. Deranged Professor kills Family! Screamed the headline. Shawn Soto, father of Catherine and Devon Soto and husband to Melina Soto, was found calmly sitting besides the body of his wife Melina. When asked what had happened he replied, "Her death was regrettable, but she was protecting Catherine. I wouldn't have been able to get rid of the girl if Melina had been watching.'

The body of Catherine was missing and when questioned about the lack of a body, Shawn's only reaction was to shrug and say that he had put her somewhere where she would never be able to hurt another person. Devon Soto, 7 months, died from an apparent crib death 2 weeks before and it is this event that psychologist Even Street says is responsible for Shawn Soto's break from reality. This combined with Soto's study of demonology, Dr. Street concludes, is what caused him to see his daughter as a 'child of Satan' and thus something to be destroyed. Mr. Soto has been committed to a house for the criminally insane. And while the home was thoroughly searched, no sign of the girl was found.

Sam quickly scanned the other articles but none of them revealed any further information. Sam slowly closed the book, but as he did so a piece of paper slid to the floor. Picking it up, Sam saw that it was a picture of Shawn Soto smiling at a camera besides a large Iron Maiden.

Shawn with his newest find; a real Iron Maiden from the Inquisition, 1500, was scrawled in faded black ink on the back.

"I see you've found my book."

Slowly, Sam lifted his eyes from the picture to see Melina standing in the open doorway. "Why did you tell me that the mother's name was Melissa?"

"Oh, did I tell you that? I didn't think you'd believe me if I told you the truth."

"And what is that?" asked Sam and he climbed to his feet. "That your some sort of ghost? Or demon?"

She looked at him, her face serious. "I've been trapped in this house for 80 years today Sam. Waiting for someone to find Catherine."

"Why?" said Sam, taking a step toward her.

She turned away from him, her shoulders quaking with silent tears. Gently Sam laid a hand on her shoulder, swinging her around to face him. "Melina, its alright, I won't hurt you. Just tell me the truth."

She looked up at him with tear bright eyes. "Oh, Sam. My husband went insane after our son died. He…he thought that Catherine had killed him; he didn't believe her when she told him it was an accident."

Sam thought of what Dean had told him about the hate filled look little Catherine had thrown at him. He wasn't entirely sure the father hadn't had some facts to base his hatred on.

"He killed me and her and then he hid her body. Buried her somewhere that I can't find." She turned blazing eyes up at Sam, "I have to find her Sam, and until I do I'm stuck here, in this house, forever." Sam was struck by the conviction in her voice.

"Why haven't you just moved on? She's probably been waiting for you somewhere for all this time."

"No, she's stuck here too. Sometimes I can hear her voice calling for me. You have to help me find her."

"What can I do? My brother's stuck somewhere in the past and you haven't been able to figure out where she's buried."

"But I have figured it out." She turned away from him and began pacing. "Last night I heard her voice, clear as a bell coming from the cellar. She's down there I can feel it!"

"I thought you said the police had checked that?"

"They did, but they only checked to see if the soil had been disturbed. Shawn must have patted it down enough that they didn't see it. There are no electric lights down there and in the dark…" she let her voice off, hope lighting her eyes. "Please, Sam. I can't dig, you have to help me."

Sam hesitated, unsure if he should be trying to dig up a body while Dean was who knows where. But this is probably the whole reason that Dean kept being dragged back into the past. Shawn was cremated so he couldn't be behind this; and if Melina was right, she and Catherine are the victims in this. He looked at Melina's hopeful face and his resolve weakened. "Ok, lets get started."

Xxxxxxx

Dean looked down at his handiwork in sick satisfaction. It was a perfect trap and Dean hoped that it would work to trap whatever freaky demon powers the girl had.

"What, what have you done to me?"

Dean looked up to see Catherine's black eyes on him. "Well, hello Sleeping Beauty, how does that feel? It's just a little Devil's trap."

"Hunter, you will never…"

"Let me stop you right there, sweetheart, your ass is going back to hell…as soon has I can remember the incantation."

She laughed. "A poor hunter you make; is your brain so full of holes that it cannot even retain the simplest of Latin?"

Dean smirked, "Just for that, I'll try extra, extra hard to remember."

"Don't bother hunter, even if you can remember, it will not work on me. Do you not think I have not tried to leave this body in the past?" There was real bitterness in her voice. "I am trapped, as surely as you are trapped in yours."

"Do you think she's telling the truth?" Shawn asked in hushed tones.

Dean shrugged, "Can't think why she'd lie, but it won't hurt to try and send her ass back to hell. Help me up."

"What are you doing? I thought you couldn't remember it?" Catherine snarled as Dean began the incantation.

"Well, it seems like my brain might not have as many holes as you thought." The words flowed from him quickly and he could sense both Catherine and Shawn holding their breaths.

"Nothings happening," Shawn hissed.

"I kind of noticed."

"You see, nothing you do will remove me; I am stuck until death."

Yeah, and since demons are ridiculously hard to kill, that could be forever.

Dean thought for a moment. "Ok, Shawn this is what we're going to do."

Xxxxxx

"We're going to bury her in the basement?!"

"You have a better plan? I'm all ears."

"No, but what are we going to bury her in? We can't just dump her in the dirt."

Since that was exactly what Dean had been planning on doing, Shawn's words caused him to stop digging. "Do you have a spare coffin lying around somewhere?"

"No…but I do have an Iron Maiden."

"What?"

"An Iron Maiden, you know, it's a large casket with spikes inside. They were used to torture heretics during the Inquisition."

"I only look stupid, professor. I know what an Iron Maiden is. Why didn't you mention it before? Iron will be perfect, won't is sweetheart?"

Catherine hissed at him but didn't say anything.

"I hate to lose it," Shawn sighed, "But…" another sigh escaped him before he headed back up the stairs.

"You don't really think this will hold me forever do you? I will get free, and when I do…"

"Yeah, yeah you'll tear me apart right?" Dean leaned toward her, "You'll never get the chance."

Dean could here thunking coming from upstairs and then a large crash. "You ok Shawn?" he hollered.

"Yes," came the tinny reply. There was more thumps and then Shawn called, "I'm going to push it down". That was all the warning Dean got before what looked like a large metal box came flying down the stairs.

"Holy shit," Dean cursed pulling himself back with his arms as the box came to rest a scant foot away from him. "Next time give a guy a little more warning."

"Sorry," said Shawn, looking winded. "I didn't remember how heavy it was."

"Well, its just a good thing it landed face up," said Dean. "Can you get her in there on your own?"

Shawn sent him a look, "I managed to get your ass down here, so I think I can handle it."

Dean watched as Shawn picked up the limp Catherine and laid her in the box. Dean had a sudden thought, "Are the spikes still in there?"

"No, we had them removed because of the children. Why?"

"He is afraid of breaking the trap. He knows if one of those was to scratch the trap, I would be free." Her voice sounded hollow already and Dean could sense the edge of panic in her voice.

"But no need to worry," Dean said cheerfully. "You're going to be in the ground a long time darling. Hope you like the dark."

A string of curses, some in languages Dean had never heard of, greeted his statement.

"I don't think a girl of your age should use some of those words," Dean chided. "Ok, Shawn, close her up. Bye, Bye bitch."

She screamed as Shawn closed and locked the Iron Maiden.

"Will this really hold her?"

"Yeah, iron and demons don't play well together. Ok, professor, we still have a lot of work to do."

Xxxxx

Dean had lost all feeling in his hands a long time ago. He was lying on his stomach, scooping dirt out of an ever-growing hole. Shawn was in charge of digging deep while Dean had the task of making the hole big enough to hold the Iron Maiden. Catherine had stopped shouting nearly 2 hours ago and they had been digging for 5.

"We should take a break."

The words startled Dean out of his trance. He looked to his right to see Shawn leaning on the handle of his shovel.

"You look like you're going to drop."

Dean frowned. How could he tell?

"How's the knee?"

"Awful." Dean was too tired to protest as Shawn helped him turn over. Once he had him leaning against the wall, he brought the lantern close Dean's leg.

"It looks very swollen. We should put some ice on it. Just sit here; I'll go and get some. Do you want anything to eat?" he called from over his shoulder, as he headed up the stairs.

"Yeah, a sandwich…make that a dozen sandwiches!"

xxxxxxx

The ice soon reduced the swelling, and with 6 sandwiches and a bottle of cold beer in him, Dean was beginning to feel half human again.

"You up for more digging?" Shawn asked.

"Yeah lets finish this."

Xxxxxx

5 hours later the hole was dug and Dean staggered to his feet to help Shawn push the box into it. Catherine, who had kept silent, suddenly began screaming.

"Daddy! No, daddy please! I'm scared of the dark!" Sobs and moans issued from the Iron Maiden and Dean looked over at Shawn's ashen face.

"It's not your daughter in there Shawn. You know that."

Shawn swallowed convulsively. "I know but I can't help thinking that it is."

"Just keep pushing."

Shawn nodded, his face again set and began to push. The Iron Maiden hovered on the edge of the hole, but one final shove, sent it down.

"Wow, this is just barely deep enough," Dean grunted, seeing that the lid of the Maiden rested less than a foot from the top of the hole.

"Just help me fill it in."

"Hold on, there's just one last thing we have to do."

xxxxxx

Sam looked at the quiet basement. Melina had found him a shovel and was now standing besides him.

"Where should I start digging?"

"I'm not sure," she looked at him. "Knowing Shawn's sense of drama, he probably buried her as close to the center as he could get."

Sam studied the basement for a second and figured it couldn't hurt to start in the middle and work his way out.

Xxxxx

He had only been digging for a few minutes, when his shovel hit something hard. Puzzled he kept digging, slowly revealing was appeared to be part of a large metal casket. "Hey, Melina? Do you know if anyone ever buried a large box down here?"

"I don't think so," Sam could sense the puzzlement in her tone. "Why?"

"In that case, I think I might have found your daughter."

He heard quick steps behind him and Melina appeared as his side.

"Keep digging! Please, keep digging!"

Sam kept digging.

Xxxxxx

Soon, he had dug up enough of the box to see it was the Iron Maiden from the photo he had seen in the book upstairs. It was rusted in places and in the dark, it was hard to make out the whole thing.

Melina fell to her knees besides the box. "Catherine!" she cried, "I'm here, I've come to free you!"

Sam was shocked when a voice that sounded like it hadn't been used in a very long time, answered her. "At last. Quick mother, open the box! Open the box!"

Sam felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise as Melina pulled a large knife from her pocket and made a quick slash on the top of the box. There was a flash of light and when it cleared the box was open, revealing a child. In the dim light, Sam only had time to make out what appeared to be some sort of tattoo on her stomach before Melina used the knife to draw a line through the outer circle. It was only when Sam saw the blue eyes flood with black, did he realize what it was. A Devil's Trap.

The girl was out of the box before Sam could react. Her laughter filled the cellar as Sam felt his feet leave the floor. The last conscious thought he had was, Dean is going to kill me.

Xxxxxxxx

Dean had just finished flattening the dirt out with a roller Shawn had found in the kitchen when a blinding light dazzled him. When it cleared, he found himself still in the basement. But now the grave that he had just finished filling in was wide open. Standing in front of it were Catherine and Melina. He could make out Sam slumped against the far wall. Catherine walked over to him and kicked him with her foot.

"Who is this?"

Melina walked over and joined the demon. "His name is Dean Winchester. His brother is the one who helped me find you. Oh, Catherine. You cannot imagine how happy I am to see you. I've waited so long for someone to come who had the power to see what had happened to you. I knew your father must have buried you somewhere in the house ,but I couldn't find you."

"It's alright mother," the girl said, her tone silken as she hugged the older woman. As the girl's arms folded around her, Melina's blissful expression turned to one of pain. "What, what are you doing to me? Catherine, let go! Ahhhhh!" her screams tore the air and Dean winced as the woman began to burn. Soon she was an inferno and Dean used the distraction to head for the stairs. He was half way up when suddenly he couldn't move. Slowly his body was turned around to face Catherine.

"You, is there no where I can go, where you won't be?"

"Nope," Dean said. "I go where you go, you pint sized bitch."

"Oh, manners hunter, manners." Her eyes landed on Sam. "So, this is your brother? How would you feel if I did to him what you did to me?" Her face twisted with hate and she dragged Dean across the floor until they were face to face. "I've waited eighty years to kill you and now that I have you what shall I do with you? Hmm? Shall I break your arm?" Dean hissed as she snapped his arm. "Or shall I do this?" Pain flared in Dean's chest. He could feel his skin and muscles tearing and blood filled his mouth.

Coughing, he spat blood at her. "That the best you got?"

She snarled and flung him against the wall. He hit headfirst and stars exploded behind his eyes. Drunkenly, he climbed to his feet, frantically trying to make his mouth work. All he could do was wipe the blood from his chin. She smiled at the pain she could see in the hunters face. "Had enough?" she asked walking over to him and dragging his head back by the hair.

Dean shook his head, "It'll take a lot more than you've got to kill me."

Her eyes clouded, "Oh, I think you'll give in." She viciously kicked his busted knee. Dean screamed as his leg gave out but before he could hit the floor, she grabbed him by the throat and hoisted him into the air.

"Now, how should I finish you?"

"You're not going to bitch." Dean looked over Catherine's shoulder to see Sam standing with the colt in his hands. Without another word he shot her; the bullet slammed into the side of her head and she jerked, releasing Dean. A scream died on her lips and she fell to the floor, her soul drifting from her as smoke.

Dean coughed, working to get the air back into his lungs. "Cutting it a little close don't you think?"

"Hey, she threw me into a wall, it took me a little time to recover."

"Whatever Samantha, whatever. How did you know to bring the colt down here?"

Sam shrugged. "I just had a feeling it would come in handy. I didn't entirely trust Melina"

"Yeah? Well, I'm glad you thought of it. I was afraid I was going to have to make it up two flights of stairs. Glad you saved me the trip." A groan slipped from his bloody lips. "Just help me upstairs would you," he moaned as he lost conscious.

Xxxxxxx

Sam dragged Dean upstairs, worried about the trail of blood his brother was leaving behind. "Hang in there dude," he muttered, settling Dean against the wall. Sam practically flew up the stairs to grab their stuff. Throwing everything into his bag, he was downstairs in under 5 minutes, but from the labored way his brother was breathing, it was 5 minutes to long. Cursing, Sam ran outside and nearly fell over in shock at what greeted him. The sun was shining brightly and while the air was cold, there was little snow on the ground. "What the hell?" But Sam didn't have time to worry about the strange lack of snow. He had to get Dean to a hospital. Throwing the bags into the trunk, he ran back inside and gathered Dean up in a fireman's carry.

Sam wasted no time in settling Dean into the passenger seat. "Come on, come on," Sam hollered at the car until finally the engine caught and turned over. He was just about the pull out of the drive when he took a final glance of the house. What he saw shocked him even more than the lack of snow had. The house was a burned out shell. Windows were broken and the front door hung drunkenly from one hinge.

A weak laugh came from his passenger. "Ah, thought it was too good to be true".

"Dean!" Sam looked at his brother's sweaty face. "It's going buddy, we're going to the hospital."

"It's beautiful, isn't it Sam?" Before Sam could ask what Dean meant, he lapsed back into unconscious.

Xxxxxx

Dean's mouth felt gritty and he slowly became aware of the ravaging need for water. Sam heard the low moan coming from the bed, and hurried to his brother's side. "Hey there sleepy, how are you feeling?"

"Like Colonel Mustard got me in the basement with the knife."

Sam laughed, "Don't you mean in the library with the lead pipe?"

Groaning Dean muttered a disgusted, "Whatever dude. Could you be a champ and get a guy a glass of water?"

Still smiling, Sam handed his brother a glass. Dean drained it and handed it back for a refill.

"So," said Sam, perching on the edge of the bed, "You going to tell me just how you managed to return just in the nick of time?"

Dean, dragged himself into a sitting position. "Yeah, that was Shawn's idea. He had seen a spell like that in one of his books and we modified it so that whenever the box was open, I would be come popping in like some sort of twisted jack in the box. Jesus," he muttered rubbing his chest, "That girl was something else."

Sam just grunted. "Dean, it was the weirdest thing. Once I got you out of the house, I looked back and…it was just a run down old house. No one has lived there in years. I asked around and someone told me that the only reason its never been bulldozed is that no one could ever agree on if the house was empty or not."

Dean shook his head. "That demon must have been damn strong to keep up that illusion for all this time, especially through two Devil's traps, not to mention the iron."

"I don't think it was her. I think it was Melina. I mean, she's the one that was there the entire time. I think her need to keep the house just like she remembered it is what kept it going."

"But no way did they have Internet access or day traders in the 1930's. So how did she know about all that stuff?"

"She did say that other's had visited her…maybe she kept up on the times through them. She seemed to be able to read the thoughts of all of her visiters."

"That makes sense, and she must have figured that appearing as an old lady made it easier to get people to trust her. And we fell for it like suckers," said Dean, feeling a lot weaker than he should have.

Seeing his brother was flagging, Sam stood. "I'll let you get some more sleep. We have a big drive ahead of us."

Dean cracked open an eye, "What are you talking about?"

Sam paused in the doorway, a smirk on his face, "You remember, someone got us lost; we have a lot of ground to cover if were going to make it to Salem by the Winter Solstice."

A groan was his only answer.