Chapter 1 - Don't Question It

Tuesday

Dean exited the front door of the Winston County morgue in Double Springs Alabama with Sam's long strides following.

"C'mon Sammy!" Dean teased good naturedly. A smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No man! I'm not calling her." A note of finality in Sam's voice. Clad in their best FBI suites and fake badges the brothers had just persuaded the beautiful and charming coroner to let them examine the paperwork from bodies of two teenage boys related to their current case. The coroner in return had been very keen on examining Sam.

"Seriously, dude, when was the last time you got laid?" Dean said with a laugh.

Always quick witted, Sam replied, "Probably more recently than you!"

Dean scoffed.

The brotherly banter continued as they climbed into the sleek black Impala parked at the curb.

"What's with you lately?"

Dean had been in a rare good mood for several days despite the seemingly endless string of hunts and sleep deprivation.

"I don't know man. Just feeling good! These last few hunts have gone off without a hitch. Guess I shouldn't be too optimistic cause it probably just means shits about to hit the fan." Dean replied lightly as he smoothly turned the key in the ignition and reached for the volume knob on the radio.

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They rolled back into the small town of Lynn well after dark. Bobby Jo's Corner Stop Cafe had been the best source of information especially since it was the only restaurant in town. Sam and Dean placed their usual order of chicken Caesar salad and bacon cheeseburger with the house special, pecan pie, for dessert.

Sam perused the Lynn Journal once more soaking in every detail of the stories covering the two high school seniors' deaths. Lynn Alabama hadn't seen more than a few high school pranks or a drunken night gone wrong in nearly 20 years. So, the two boys who had ventured into the supposedly haunted Frazier Mansion on a dare and were found dead in the gardener's shed had been very big news the past week.

"So, I say we hit the graveyard, dig up dear Mrs. Frazier, and light her up before any more of these kids decide to be ghost hunters." Dean stated matter of factly between bites.

"It does look like she's our killer." The Frazier Mansion on highway 5 had been empty for years until recently when a paranormal society was granted permission to investigate. Dean's immediate response to this news..."Freakin' armatures." The story behind the estate was legend in the small community. Mary T-Smith had married Allen Frazier, the town drunk, in the 1920's immediately after a distant relative of Allen's had passed away leaving him a large inheritance.

"Poor bastard. Ole Allen finds himself a gold diggin' wife and she knocks him off after tying the knot." Dean said between bites.

Allen's body had been found in the dining room with 16 stab wounds from a large kitchen knife. The two boys had been found stabbed in an identical fashion leaving little doubt as to the culprit.

The sounds of AC/DC's Highway to Hell drifted up from Dean's faded leather jacket pocket. He gulped down the last bite of his burger, "This is Agent Dylan…She what?…Okay, I'll go over there right now…No, don't worry…I'm sure she's fine." Pulling the phone from his ear and disengaging the call "She is not gonna be fine."

"What's up?"

"One of the dead kid's girlfriend is headed to the Frazier house. That was her mom calling to let us know." Moving quickly from their seats Dean gave orders, "I'll head to the house. You hit the graveyard...and make it quick."

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Dean's flashlight beam cut through the dark sitting room of the Frazier house revealing dusty overturned furniture strewn across the plank floorboards. The air was stale with a bitter tinge of a fire recently put out. Dean's senses were heightened searching for any presence, ghost or human. The EMF meter was notably silent as the old house groaned and creaked in protest of each boot step.

"Molly?" Dean called out just above a whisper. "Molly?"

Stepping closer to the doorway leading to the dining room, he uncomfortably shifted the weight of his sawed off shotgun. Dean was no stranger to the presence of a ghost or a monster, but the overwhelming urge to look over his shoulder was more than a presence. He could feel the weight of someone's gaze. He wasn't alone. Before he could analyze the feeling any more, he swung the flashlight beam into the dining room where it landed directly on a body lying awkwardly across a dining room table devoid of chairs. "Molly."

The EMF spiked and the temperature dropped sending a chill up his body. A plume of warm breath escaped his mouth and the flashlight beam began to flicker.

"Son of a bitch." Dean muttered just as a young dark haired woman dressed in a 1920's dinner gown sparked into being just inside the doorway to his left. He leveled the sawed off at the menacing figure and fired. Salt rock exploded across the space causing the figure to dissipate into a cloud of dust. Dean raced to the table knowing each moment was precious. "Molly? Molly! C'mon girl! Wake up!" He reached for a pulse and found a weak heartbeat. Mrs. Frazier's distorted figure reappeared directly across the table. Dean could see that the years in the vale had not been kind to what had once probably been a beautiful woman. She screeched and writhed as she flew across the table knocking Dean flat on his back. The flashlight and EMF slid in one direction and the shotgun in another. Winded, Dean was too slow in reaching for the weapon and Mrs. Frazier cackled as she took advantage by knocking it another five feet away. "C'mon Sammy!" Dean shouted as if Sam could hear his pleas. He rose to his knees and dove for the sawed off once more. Mrs. Frazier appeared between him and his target taking him by the throat and raising him into the air. Dean fought against her vice grip with every ounce of energy he could muster, but his lungs began to burn and black spots popped in the edges of his vision as he began losing the battle. The grip began to loosen and flames licked at the bottom of Mrs. Frazier's ghostly form. Dean fell to a crumpled gasping heap on the planked floor just as Mrs. Frazier's sharp shrill scream pierced the night and she disappeared in an explosion of flames.

Disclaimer & Writers notes: I do not own or have rights to Supernatural or any of it's characters. This story was originally written with the first few chapters in a different order, but decided to rearrange them recently. Truthfully, you shouldn't be able to tell, but if something seems a little off in the first 7 chapters just chock it up to my obsessive need for order:)

A side note...might have to up the rating later on down the road for some language and suggestive scenes. Still haven't quite decided. As the story progresses I'd love your opinion on it.

Thank you so much for reading! It makes my day!
Enjoy, beautiful people! xo,Jen