AN: Warning: This story takes place against a backdrop of child pornography. There is nothing graphic in my story but I feel like y'all should know going in that the subject matter could be tough for some. That being said, this is my response to a writing prompt given to me. Hope you like!
Dean walked through the library on his way to the kitchen. When he returned he had two plates of sandwiches in one hand, a couple beers in the other, and a bag of chips clamped in his teeth. Dean set all the stuff down, flipped the bag of chips over, and opened it from the end that hadn't been in his mouth. "You've been buried in your computer all morning. Thought you could use some lunch."
Sam gratefully took the offered sandwich, not realizing how hungry he was until the food was there under his nose. "Thanks."
Dean poured out a pile of chips onto his plate, next to his sandwich, and sat down next to his brother. "So what have you had your nose buried in all day? Looking for a case?"
Sam pushed the laptop away from him, making room for the plate. "Sort of? I keep tabs on various old e-mail accounts, like Bobby and Ellen, old cell numbers, and the random websites in case there's a call for help. Sometimes I get wind of a potential case."
"People still call those old numbers?" Dean asked around a bite of food.
"Not Ellen's stuff, too much, anymore. Word has pretty much gotten around about what happened at the roadhouse." Sam cracked open the beer and chased a bite of chips with it. "Bobby, though, got a voicemail from a sketchy sounding guy, name of Kyle, who says he has some old books he thought Bobby might be interested in, for the right price."
"Huh." Dean kept eating without further comment and Sam continued to browse the website he had open while he ate. "Think I'm gonna go give my Baby a bath." Dean said as he got up with his empty plate. Sam ignored him, engrossed in whatever he was reading. Dean stood behind Sam and reached for his half eaten sandwich. "You gonna eat this?"
Sam smacked his brother's hand before he could grab the food. "Hands off. I think I may have found us a case. Not sure though..." His voice trailed off as he continued to read.
"Yeah? What website is that?" Dean took a look at Sam's computer over his shoulder.
"It's the Ghostfacers site."
"Aw c'mon! Really Sam? Those clowns?"
Sam shook his head. "They have a chat board on here and even though Ed and Harry were full of crap, it doesn't mean the people posting to the message boards are as well. This wouldn't be the first case I snagged from their site."
"Okay, okay. So what have ya got?" Dean said with a sigh.
"Well, that's the thing. The messages are a couple of weeks old, from a user named 'homebound'. There's three here. Basically asking for help. She thinks there's a ghost in her room. Talks about moving furniture and slammed doors. Here it says sometimes the door to her room seems jammed and she can't open it and then the next moment it opens with no problem. She mentions it feeling cold whenever weird stuff happens as well. She thinks it's living under her bed."
"You say the messages are a couple weeks old?"
"Yeah, but she did say, somewhere in here, that she has limited access to the internet."
"Hmmm. Could be she just hasn't had the chance to get back on. I say we check it out. We don't have anything else going at the moment. Where is this?"
Sam tapped at his keyboard for a moment. "This is odd. It just says Pennsylvania."
"Dude, that's a pretty big area to cover. Any way to narrow it down?"
Sam slid his now forgotten sandwich aside and pulled his laptop closer. "Give me an hour or so, let me see what I can do."
Dean was all too happy to confiscate Sam's sandwich and let him get down with his geeky self. "I'll just clean this stuff up and go check our supplies."
When Dean was done checking the car, he went to his room to pack a bag and then went in search of his brother. He didn't have to search long as he bumped into him in the hall. "We set?"
Sam had his own bag slung over his shoulder and his laptop tucked under his arm. "Yeah, town called Denton." They talked as they headed for the car. "She used a cellphone to access the site. I did some unofficial digging and got a billing address."
"Good enough. Let's go."
"Sam, as far as addresses go, this one's a bust." Dean said, looking outside at a post office.
"So it's a post office box. Let's find a place to stay and go as FBI." Sam answered.
Dean looked rather grimly at the surrounding town. "That shouldn't be too hard. Not sure, but I'm thinking the abandoned houses might just outnumber the occupied ones." He put the car in gear and found them a suitable house to squat in with high, over grown privacy shrubs that almost completely hid the house from view. After changing into their suits, they headed back to the post office.
"Hello ma'am. Agent Stills. This is Agent Tyler." Sam and Dean each flipped their FBI badges open for the woman behind the counter. The woman's eyebrows vanished into her hair in surprise and she looked all around as if expecting a camera crew to appear. She messed with her hair, flattened her hands down her blouse, and checked her name tag. Sam smiled a reassuring smile and continued. "We have a post office box number and need to know the name and address of who it belongs to."
"Oh of course! Anything. What's the number?"
"Well ma'am." Dean cut in, looking down at her name tag. "Betty. Can I call you Betty?" She nodded vigorously. "We can't let you know anything about this. Top secret and all."
"Oh. Yes. Yes! Of course." She gazed at the two brothers with huge eyes. Like a deer caught in the headlights of the Impala.
Sam cleared his throat. "Maybe you could just let us look at a list?"
She turned her glazed eyes back to Sam. "A list?" Sam nodded. "A list. Oh. Oh! Yes! I could get you a print out of everyone who has a box. Would that help?"
Dean slapped his hand on the counter, nearly giving the woman a heart attack. "That's an excellent idea, Betty! Your country needs you." She gathered herself together, turned to the computer on the counter, and started typing. "It will print to the printer in the back room. Give me just a second and I'll go get it for you."
Dean looked at Sam and rolled his eyes with a smirk. Sam leaned in and whispered, "Was scaring her half to death really necessary?" Dean continued to smirk and nodded his head.
Betty returned and handed over her print out as if it were the long lost golden fleece. Dean took it and Sam held his phone out with the box number on it. Dean scanned down the list, found a name and address, and smiled. "Yahtzee."
"Yahtzee? Is... Is that a good thing? " Betty asked, nervously.
"Yes, ma'am, it is. America thanks you." Dean said. He folded the paper and slipped it into his back pants pocket as he turned for the door, making sure he flashed a peek at the gun in his waistband as he did so.
Betty gave a breathy gasp at the sight of the weapon and Sam gave her a smile and a nod, following his brother out the door. "Was all that really necessary?" he asked as they climbed into the car.
"C'mon Sam, who said we can't enjoy our work once in a while?" Dean pulled out the paper, handed it to Sam and started the car. "Ok. Where to?"
Sam entered the address in his phone and then looked out the windows. "Looks like left." Sam guided his brother to the address and Dean pulled to the side of the road and parked.
"The tan dump up on the right?" Dean asked. His brother nodded. The house was a single story wreck. Shingles were missing from the roof, shutters were hanging at angles, the grass hadn't been mowed in ages, and all the windows had heavy drapes covering them. "Not hard to believe there's a restless spirit in there. Probably murdered." Dean muttered, looking around the neighborhood. "This whole area is pretty sad, man. How you wanna do this?"
Sam looked around and nodded in agreement. "Yeah. They had a chat name of Homebound. Maybe it's a senior and they can't get out anymore?"
"Or a drug dealer." Dean mumbled.
"Either way, they might not be too receptive to cops of any kind." Sam offered.
"Yeah. Let's pull the gas leak thing." Dean suggested as he got out of the car. He pulled off his suit jacket and draped it across the back seat and loosened his tie. He went around to the trunk, put his gun in the weapons cache and pulled out a clipboard. "How's this?"
Sam decided to leave his jacket on but nodded at his brother. "Here put this on it." He handed Dean the address list Betty was nice enough to give them. They made their way down the street and up to the house. The small porch was a mess with a couple of half broken lawn chairs, some unread newspapers, and a pile of empty beer cans.
Dean leaned in to Sam, whispered "Putting my money on drug dealers." and knocked on the door. The door had several locks and dead bolts on it, as well as a welcoming "no solicitation" sign. Dean doubted if the inhabitants even knew what the word meant. As he thought that, the sound of dead bolts being released could be heard. The door eventually pulled open to a large man who looked like he was in his mid fifties. He had a stained and holey white undershirt on, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and a beer in his hand.
"Can't you motherfuckers read?" He grumbled at them. He eyed them up and down, his disapproval clear on his ruddy face.
Sam, not willing to get flustered, started right in. "Yes, sir, but we're not -" The man slammed the door in their faces.
Dean pounded on the door again, mumbling something under his breath about no motherfucker calling him a motherfucker. When the door didn't open again, he kicked it as he pounded a third time.
When the door finally opened again, the man had a shotgun in place of his beer. "Apparently you motherfuckers are deaf as well as stupid."
"Hey! Hold up there! Gas company!" Sam held up one of many fake badges as he raised his hands in surrender.
The guy spit on the porch floor, hitting the edge of Dean's shoe. "I don't give a rat's ass if you're the fucking President! We don't want any and if you knock again, you'll be greeted with buckshot. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?" He emphasized each word of his question with a jab of his greasy finger to Sam's chest and then slammed the door shut.
Dean made like he was going to knock the door down in a rage but Sam held him back. "C'mon man. Later." Sam, holding his brother's arm, led him back to the car.
"Who's that douche think he is?!" Dean grumbled. "I'm gonna knock his teeth out and then kick him in his tiny little pecker!"
"Dean! Relax! Geez! Just get in the car!" After they were in and Dean drove away, Sam waited until his brother had calmed down before suggesting they go back.
"What? Go back? What the hell for?"
"Because there's definitely spirit activity back there."
"And how would you know that?"
"This is how." Sam pulled an EMF reader out of his pocket.
"I never heard it go off." Dean said doubtfully.
"Well you made it out of a walk-man, right? I just plugged ear buds into it to silence it." He held up the ear buds, their cord clearly going back to the EMF reader. "I kept my hand in my pocket and could feel it vibrating like crazy."
"Okay. Even if we go back, that dick isn't going to be letting us in anytime soon." Dean pulled in to the house they were squatting in and sat there in thought for a moment. "There was something strange about the place, though."
"The door?" Sam guessed.
"Yeah the door. I don't generally question a person's need for multiple locks in a neighborhood like that, but..."
"But the dead bolts were on the outside of the door." Sam finished.
"Exactly. That dick isn't locking people out, he's locking something in. Let's change, grab a bite to eat and then go wait for him to go on a beer run or something."
Around seven that evening, The Dick, as Dean had started calling him, left in a car with two other lowlifes. "Alright, let's do this." Dean and Sam quickly made their way to the side of the house and circled around to the back. As they had hoped, the back door didn't have near as many locks on it, but it still took them far too long to pick the ones that were locked from the inside. "Next time I'm just breaking a window." Dean grumbled.
They entered as quietly as possible, not knowing if there was anyone else in the house. "Who do you think this Homebound person is?" Dean whispered.
Sam shrugged. "An elderly parent maybe?" Sam held onto a crowbar in case a ghost made an appearance. Dean had his gun, prepared for trouble of the more human variety.
The back door entered into a small room between garage and kitchen. Dean ducked his head through the garage door, quickly, to clear it. It was small and piled high with junk. He pulled back into the house and shook his head no. They entered the kitchen next. The garbage can in the corner was overflowing with trash, the sink had what appeared to be a couple days worth of dishes piled in it, and there were empty tv dinner boxes all over the place. "This place is disgusting." Sam mumbled to himself.
Moving on to the living room, they found the room that contained the front door. There was an old tv with a single armchair before it and a small tray table beside the chair. The carpet was stained and had several cigarette burns in it. At the back wall was a card table with a computer set up on it. Sam was heading for it when they heard a sneeze from a back room. They both froze. Dean swung his gun toward the hallway that led off from the living room. Sam motioned for him to lower his gun.
"Hello? We're here about the ghost?"
Dean looked at his brother like he was out of his mind and sidled over next to Sam so that he could see down the hall. A young girl, of about fourteen or fifteen years of age, stepped out into the hall. She wore only a nightgown and looked about as timid as a mouse. Dean quickly held his gun back behind his leg, out of sight.
"Hello. Are you the Homebound that posted to the Ghostfacers website?" Sam set his crowbar on the card table, next to the computer, and held his hands up.
She nodded her head, eyes as big as saucers. "How did you get in?"
"Back door was unlocked." Dean said with a grin. The girl made a face that made it obvious she didn't believe that. "Well, your dad wasn't about to let us in."
When Dean mentioned the girl's dad, a strong, cold wind blew through the house, rattling frames on the walls, and blowing the drapes away from the windows.
"She doesn't like it when you call him that. Call him Vince."
"Ok, um, I'm Sam and this is Dean. Is there anyone else here with you?" Sam took a step toward the hall, but a frame fell off the wall at his feet, stopping him.
"The ghost won't let anyone near me." The girl explained. Sam frowned at Dean who just shrugged his shoulders back.
"Hey, shouldn't you be in school?" Dean suddenly asked. He was getting annoyed at the constant obstacles in this case and this whole situation was just rubbing him weird. Sam frowned at him.
"No. Vince told me I didn't qualify for school."
"He told you... Wait, what?"
"Have you ever even left the house?" Sam asked, thinking back to her screen name on the website.
"Oh no. Vince says it's not safe out there." Again the cold wind blew through the house, knocking another frame off the wall. "You really need to go before he gets back. He'll hurt you."
"Oh, we'll see who's hurting who." Dean mumbled.
"What's your name?" Sam asked. He sounded calm. Dean always admired him for how he could talk to people.
"Emily."
Sam continued talking as he pulled out his phone. "Usually, the first step is to figure out who the ghost is. Where's your mom?" The folding chair at the table next to Sam crashed to the floor.
"Jackie is away on a business trip."
"Same thing with the name?" Sam asked and she nodded. "Well, the spirit seems attached to you in some way. Can I take a picture of your face? We'll do some research, see what we can come up with and then come back. Sound good?"
"We'll be sure to come back while Vince is out." Dean added.
She thought for a moment. "The picture will help me?"
"Definitely." Sam held his phone up. She tentatively made her way down to the end of the hall, but didn't come any closer. Sam held up his phone, zoomed in on her face and took a couple shots. "We'll figure this out, Emily. Don't you worry." Sam tucked the phone away and picked up his crowbar.
As they made their way back to the back door, she called after them. "Make sure you lock everything or Vince will get mad."
"You lock up the ones inside and we'll get the ones outside." Sam assured her and she nodded.
Both guys were quiet on the way back to the car and all the way to their place. As soon as Dean shut the door to the house he lost it. "What the hell was that? What the hell is going on in this fucked up little town?!"
"I'm wondering if we haven't stumbled into something like the Benders."
Dean frowned for a moment. "The Benders... Wait the ones who were eating people?"
"Yeah, I think we might have a case where the humans are the true monsters here. Didn't you get the feeling the spirit was trying to protect the girl?"
"Now that you mention it..." Dean hopped up on the kitchen counter, dug around in their cooler, and pulled out a couple beers. "What's your plan with the photo?"
"Our friend Vince isn't letting Emily out of the house and that's five kinds of shady. I'm going to google her face and see what happens." Sam sat on the floor along the wall, leaning back against it and setting his laptop on his lap. He pulled out his cell and sent the photo to his email so he could access it on his computer.
"Yeah, our friend Vince is lucky he still has all his parts. Well, I guess I'll get the other laptop and see if I can find anything about any suspicious deaths that might be linked to our spirit." Dean sat down along the wall near his brother, grabbed the other laptop, and got to work.
An hour later Dean was up and pacing. "There's nothing. I went back a full year prior to Emily's first post and nothing. There have been four death's and all of them were natural and unrelated to Vince. Until we know more about the girl, I can't even say if they have any connection to her at all."
"I may have found something, but it can't be good." Sam was typing feverishly on his computer.
"You get a match for her face?" Dean leaned against the opposite wall and cracked another beer open.
"Well I'm sending her photo through the national missing persons database, but it's still working. No. I got something in a dark web dragnet."
Dean frowned at him. "Dark web? Is that geek speak? What the hell is that?"
"You can call it the dark underbelly of the internet. Super secret and hard to gain access to. It's used by all sorts of people up to no good, including terrorists."
Dean just stared at his brother, for a moment, as if he didn't know him, shook it off and said, "Pft. Let me tell you, our pal Vino ain't no terrorist and if he is, he's the best damn actor ever."
"No," Sam answered, "he's worse. Look at this." Dean went and sat back down next to Sam and Sam turned his computer to the side a bit, so his brother could see.
"Is that Emily?" There was a photo of Emily, taken perhaps a year or more ago. It was from a high angle, which made Dean think it was from a security camera mounted near the ceiling. The photo slowly faded into another, this time, Emily was naked. "Whoa! Stop that shit right now!" Dean looked away quickly. "God, I feel like a dirty old man now!"
Sam quickly scrolled down past the slide show and skimmed over what was written there. "Apparently the slide show is advertising. For a fee, you can subscribe to a real time live video feed."
Dean lurched to his feet. "Damn sick motherfucker calling US motherfuckers? I'm going to kill that sick perverted douche, so help me!"
"It gets worse." Sam quietly said.
"Damn, Sammy, how could it get any worse?" Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and tried to calm down.
"There's a tab here that leads to another page where there's a live auction going on. Last day to bid is on Emily's sixteenth birthday."
"Do I even want to know?" Dean asked without opening his eyes.
"They are auctioning off her virginity to the highest bidder. Current high bid is some Arab guy with ninety grand."
Both brothers were quiet as the horror of Emily's situation sunk in.
"Sam, this is..."
"Yeah." As they sat there numb, Sam's computer binged at him. "My missing person search is done." Sam tapped a few keys and a picture popped up on his screen of a young girl, maybe seven or eight years old. The likeness to Emily was unmistakable. "Missing for seven years. Abducted from a children's fun fair of some sort not two towns over." Sam read a bit further. "Turns sixteen in four months."
"Damn that shithead needs to burn." Dean growled. He picked up his laptop again. "What town and what was her birth name?" Sam relayed the info and Dean got digging once more. Almost immediately, Dean was onto something. "Emily's mom is all over the local news. Patricia Townsend. Never stopped searching for her daughter even after the cops moved it to the cold case files. Held child safety rallies, posted missing child posters of her daughter along every major highway in America. Died in a house fire three months ago."
"Hmm fits the timeline, but why would she be haunting Vince?"
"I don't think she's haunting Vince. A spirit sticks around generally because it can't let go or it becomes attached to an object, right? She never gave up on Emily, Sam. Naturally, when she passed, her spirit went straight to her kid, but like you said, she's not haunting Emily, really, but trying to protect her."
Sam nodded. "Yeah. That makes perfect sense. So what do we do? The longer Patricia hangs around, the more unstable she'll become, and then she won't be safe around Emily anymore. We also need to get Emily out of this whole mess as well."
Dean closed his laptop and grinned at his brother. "I think I know a way that we can kill three birds with one stone." He explained his idea to Sam who agreed with very little persuasion.
The next day was spent in preparation. Sam spent most of the day on his computer, gathering information and building up quite the care package of sorts. Dean was busy working his charm on the phone with one Marie Handover. After dinner, they hoped to pay a visit to Emily's mother, if she would listen to them.
Dean was restless as they sat in the car, watching the house. "You okay, man?" Sam looked at him curiously.
Dean heaved a heavy sigh. "It's just that every minute we waste sitting out here waiting for that dickhead to leave, is another minute of that poor girl's life gone. I just... I just wanna go in there and blow his head off."
"Yeah, could you maybe stop fiddling with your gun before you accidentally shoot me?" Dean grunted and set the gun on the seat between them, where it been four times already. "Listen, I get it. Really, I do. I want him to hurt just as much as you do, but this is a human, not a monster." Dean shot him a look. "You know what I mean. We can't go in there guns blazing or we'll have half the neighborhood calling the cops down on us."
"Maybe we could snatch him, take him to some quiet, remote area and -"
Sam cast a sidelong bitch face at his brother. "Dude. As much as I would love to... No. We just need to follow your plan. You'll get your chance."
"Hmm." Dean looked perturbed but at least he sat still for a while.
Around seven o'clock, the same two dirtbags came by and picked up Vince, clearing the way for their visit. They gathered the stuff they'd need and went over to the house, entering through the back door just as before. "Emily? It's Sam and Dean." This time, they waited by the backdoor until she answered.
She came out of the hallway wearing the same nightgown she'd worn the evening before. "Did it help?"
"Did it... " Sam was confused for a moment. "Oh! Your photo?" She nodded. "It most certainly did. We're going to try to talk to the spirit, okay?" Her eyes got big but she nodded again.
"Patricia?" Dean called out to the house. "We know it's you. We know who you are. We need to have a chat. Can you show yourself?" They waited a moment and then, between them and Emily, a woman appeared. She wore jeans and a yellow t-shirt. Her hair was a long, straight brown, and she didn't look particularly happy and who could blame her.
"We know Emily is your daughter, taken from you many years ago." At this the room erupted in a whirlwind, scattering mail off the counter, knocking the tv off it's stand, and shoving the armchair up against a wall. "We want to help!" Sam yelled over the noise.
Dean noticed Emily cowering in the hall, crying. "It's okay." he said.
"No it's not! Vince will be so mad when he sees the tv. He'll hurt me!"
Dean could see she was terrified. "Listen to me, Emily. That piece of filth will never touch you again. You have my word. Okay?" She continued to cry but nodded at him.
He tipped his head in Emily's direction, getting the spirit's attention. "We're guessing your temper is getting a little harder to control. That's okay. We can use it."
The spirit stopped and looked at her daughter with sad eyes and then turned back to the brothers with a pleading look on her face.
Sam took a step forward. "How strong have you gotten?" Before the words had fully left his mouth, he was hurled across the room and slammed up against the wall. He clawed at his neck, choking.
"Hey! Hey! HEY! Save it for the actual bad guy, okay?" Dean ran over to his brother and caught him as the spirit let him go.
Sam coughed a few times, catching his breath. "Okay. I guess that answers that." Sam then explained their plan to the spirit and she seemed very much in favor. "So you'll let me into her room to disconnect the camera?" The spirit moved aside, allowing Sam entrance to the hallway.
Dean turned to Emily again. "By the end of tonight, this will all be over. You'll be with family who love you and will get you the care you need. Okay?" She nodded. She didn't say much, that was for sure. It killed Dean to see her like this. It made him think of how he and Sam hadn't had quite the normal childhood, but at least they had each other. "This is what we need you to do. You're going to go to your room and stay there. No matter what happens. No matter what you hear. You think you can do that?" Again, another nod. "Sam is going to stay with you at the beginning, to make sure, okay?"
"I won't have to stay here anymore?" Dean shook his head no. She went back to her room to join Sam and Dean turned to the spirit of her mother.
"Scare him all you want, but wait to pull out the heavy stuff until after I take my shot. Okay?" The ghost nodded her head and faded from view. Dean went over to the back door, grabbed the crowbar, and slipped outside.
Vince returned home around nine. Dean was crouched down just outside and could hear him messing with all the locks at the front door. Now to wait.
"God damn it! What the hell happened in here?! Come out here you little whore!" Dean could hear Vince yelling inside and hoped Emily trusted Sam enough to stay put.
"I said get out here!" Dean slowly inched the back door open a crack so he could watch Vince. He was pacing like a caged animal. "Damn it, girl, the cost of this tv is comin' outta your hide!" Dean watched him storm down the hall and he quickly re-entered the house. Dean flipped a few locks on the back door and then made his way to the front door and made sure it was locked tight as well. He stood there and waited, crowbar down by his leg, out of sight.
There was the sound of a door slamming and enraged pounding. "Let me in, you little bitch!" Wind gusted down the hall and the sound of something heavy hitting the wall followed. "What the hell?"
Dean wasn't sure what happened next, but Vince came stumbling out of the hallway towards the front door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Dean. "The fuck you doin' in my house?"
"Going somewhere, Vince?" While Dean kept him occupied at the front door, Sam had slipped down the hall and now stood guard at the back door. "You've been a very naughty boy, Vino."
Vince kept looking back over his shoulder, hardly paying any attention to Dean. "There's something in here. Get outta my way!" As he said this, the ghost appeared at the end of the hall, not looking anything like the woman they had spoken to earlier. She looked like a floating corpse, complete with skin rotting and falling off her bones. "Shit, shit, shit! Move!" Vince made a move for the door and Dean stepped aside to allow him access.
"By all means!"
Vince turned his back on Dean as he started fumbling with his many locks and that was a mistake. Dean pulled the crowbar back and swung for the fence. There was a very satisfying crack as he made contact with the outside of Vince's right knee. Vince screamed and fell to the floor.
"What the hell?" He lay on the floor, clutching his knee and Dean kicked him in the face. "You're not going anywhere, dickface." Dean turned to Patricia. "He's all yours."
Dean joined Sam at the backdoor. "Wait! You can't leave me here with that... That... Thing!" Vince was crying. Whether from pain, terror, or both, they weren't sure.
"We can and we will." Sam said. He pulled open the door and he and Dean left. They went back and sat in the car, screams echoing behind them.
They waited for an hour before sending the care package Sam had made. It contained all the info Sam had dug up on Vince and Jackie, their address, the website and auction. All of it. In no time, three police cruisers and an ambulance arrived. They went charging in, guns at the ready. A minute later, two came out and threw up in the bushes. "Damn," Dean commented, "looks like Patty brought her A game."
"Time for you to make your call." Sam said.
Dean pulled out his phone and dialed the number on a piece of paper from his pocket. "Hello, Marie? ... Yes. ... Yes. It's done. You can expect a call probably within the next couple hours. ... Thanks. ... Hey, no problem. Just give her a loving family." Dean smiled. "No doubt. Goodnight Marie. " Sam looked expectantly at Dean. "Patricia's sister already has a room cleared and has bought a week's worth of clothes. She now waits by the phone for social services, or whoever, to call."
As they sat there talking, the EMT's escorted a shell shocked Emily, wrapped in a blanket, out to the ambulance. Satisfied, Dean took them back to the old house they had claimed for a night's sleep that hopefully would be a little more nightmare free than the previous night.
"Patricia?" Sam called. For the last time, they had let themselves into the ratty little house on this lonely old street. This time, their hands were gloved and they were careful not to touch anything. It looked like someone had splattered red paint all over the living room. The ghost appeared in front of them, once more looking like a typical soccer mom. "It's done. Emily has been released into your sister Marie's care and the authorities are on their way to pick up Jackie."
Patricia smiled at them each in turn and then suddenly a bright glowing light seemed to radiate from within her. It got so bright that Sam covered his eyes and Dean turned away. Then, just as quickly, the light was gone. When they turned back, she was gone.
"Patricia?" Dean called out. "Hello?" When no answer was forthcoming, Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Guess that's that! We saved the girl, defeated the monster, and sent a spirit on to the other side, Sammy. Damn good job, if you ask me. Let's get the hell out of this God forsaken little town and go watch City Slickers."