Sammy smiled and gurgled at the female face peering down at him. Kicking his chubby legs, he held his hands up, wanting to be picked up.
The female face smiled and two pale hands reached towards the infant.
Before the baby could feel the comforting warmth of a mother's arms, a shot rang out and the vision above him vanished in a puff of ash, an agonized scream echoing in the tiny motel room.
SPN
John's chest heaved as he stared at the spot where, moments before, the ghostly figure of a young woman had been hovering above his youngest son.
Dean, terrified, hid behind his father, peeking out from around John's legs.
The baby's frightened crying filled the motel room, raising the hairs on the back of the father's neck.
"Grab your brother," John instructed and the four-year old dashed forward and scooped his infant sibling from the bed, hugging him close to his chest.
"It's okay Sammy," Dean murmured as he returned to their father, green eyes wide for any sight of the ghost, "We'll keep you safe."
For a moment, John wondered if he'd scared the spirit off for good, when a sibilant voice whispered in his ear.
He's mine….
Cocking the shotgun again, John scanned the motel room, ready to fire again.
"Come and get him then," the hunter growled, taunting the spirit.
"Dean!" John barked, feeling the motel room grow icy cold, "Go outside! Now!"
Without having to be told twice, the little boy dashed across the room and yanked the door open, stepping onto the sidewalk in front of the motel room and letting the door slam shut behind him.
"It's just you and me now," John told the ghost, "I know you can't leave this room."
An anguished wail erupted from the spirit, having lost sight of the youngest Winchester.
He's mine! He's mine!
"He's not yours!" John snapped, "He never was!"
The hunter could now see his breath condensing in the air and a shiver ran down his spine. The ghost was gathering strength to appear again.
"You killed your baby," John said, "And you couldn't live with that."
Mine….
"So you went into the bathroom and cut open your wrists," he continued, feeling both anger towards this spirit who had tried to take his son and feeling sorry for her at the same time.
The ghost appeared in the doorway of the bathroom where she had killed herself, a girl, really, no more than seventeen. She was as pale as chalk, her black hair dripping water down the t-shirt and panties she wore. Blood smeared up her arms and raining from her lax fingers.
John aimed the gun at the ghost but she didn't move.
"I know it was an accident," the hunter told her, "You were young, scared, but your baby's gone and you can't have mine."
The ghost looked up, revealing blue eyes cold with anger and she raised her hands, sending John flying across the room to slam into the door.
The hunter lost his grip on the gun and fell onto all fours. Gritting his teeth, John looked up but the ghost had vanished again.
The door of the motel room creaked open and Dean stepped inside.
"Daddy!" the four-year old cried, still holding his sobbing brother.
"Dean!" John snapped, "Get-"
An invisible force dragged the hunter across the room and into the bathroom, the door shutting behind him, trapping him inside.
"Dean!" John cried, banging on the door, "Dean! Get out of here!"
SPN
Dean could hear his father yelling at him from inside the bathroom, knew he had to leave but something kept him rooted to the spot. Try as he might, it felt as though he was stuck to the floor and unable to move.
The room grew chilly again and a young woman appeared before the boy. The four-year old looked up into the face of the girl and felt his arms rise of their own accord, offering up his baby brother.
The ghost reached out and took Sam from his brother, smiling sadly at the infant who was still crying.
My baby… Mine… My baby…
The ghost whispered and cradled the infant to her chest, cooing to him.
Dean watched, horrified and fascinated as the spirit began to glow, brighter and brighter, until he was forced to close his eyes.
SPN
"Dean! Dean! Wake up!"
The four-year old peeled his eyes open and looked up at his father who was bending over him, shaking his shoulder.
"Daddy?" The little boy croaked, feeling as though he had just woken up from a fever dream.
John helped his eldest son sit up and Dean realized he had been lying on the floor in their motel room.
"Where's Sammy?" Dean asked, terrified, whipping his head around.
John smiled, "He's fine."
Standing the four-year old up, John showed his youngest son lying on the bed, kicking his feet and gurgling happily.
"What… what happened?" Dean asked, crossing to the bed and climbing up beside his brother.
Sammy looked okay. He was staring up at the ceiling, sucking on his fingers, pedaling his legs.
"You tell me," John said.
"The… the ghost…" Dean stammered, feeling his cheeks heat up with shame, "She got Sammy. I couldn't stop her. I tried. But I couldn't move. She was holding Sammy and then got really bright and I guess I fell asleep."
John nodded. He had been hitting the bathroom door with all his might, yanking on the handle and for several long, terrible minutes, was certain he was about to lose both his sons… and then the door opened.
Dean was lying unconscious on the floor, Sammy on the bed, and the ghost nowhere to be seen.
All the ghost had wanted to do, it seemed, was to hold onto a baby again. She hadn't had malicious intent but wanted to move on.
John scooped up his infant son, cradling him to his chest, drew Dean close to him and hugged both of them tightly.
Author's Note:
The inspiration for this fic came from a picture I saw on the subbreddit, r/creepy.
The title for the fic comes from a Van Halen song of the same name.
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