Don't ask me how we ended up here, just don't ask. I'm not sure I understand it myself.

Let's just say that it involves an old, empty house, a violent thunderstorm, a dark, crawly crawlspace, a mishap with a ladder down a steep, steep staircase, and Eleanor Potevin.

We were with Eleanor, out in the backwoods near her house. She was showing me and Sam an old, abandoned farmhouse on an old abandoned piece of land that she bought to rehab and turn into some kind of writing-get-away place for herself. One of those old houses, half of it is one-story, half of it is two-story, kind of houses. An empty, musty, sad but sturdy looking little structure.

Sam and Eleanor had kept up their email correspondence, and she made sure I knew her traveling schedule because – smart girl that she is – she figured out fast that if I knew everywhere she was going to be and when, she was more likely to see us somewhere at some point than if only Sam knew.

This particular spot on her calendar had been empty, and we had some 'charmed & dangerous' items to drop off at Dad's storage locker, and all it took was an email from me to Eleanor, 'Hey, you live near Buffalo, don't you? We're going to be up that way this Saturday, buy you a cheeseburger?" and we had ourselves an invite.

Eleanor – smart girl that she is – never let on to Sam that I'd said anything to her about it.

"Hey, Dean." Sam said to me that Thursday before. He was at the table and his laptop. "Eleanor says that she bought an old house she's going to fix up. It's a hundred and eighty years old. She says if we're ever in the neighborhood, she wants us to have a look at it and let her know if we think it's haunted."

Forty-eight hours later we were all of us on the floor in the main downstairs room of her old house, triaging ourselves after a group plummet down the staircase.

I'd been on the ladder, set on the narrow landing at the top of the stairs, giving the under-the-roofline crawlspace a sweep with my flashlight; Sam was keeping the ladder steady for me, and Eleanor was halfway down the staircase, watching us. Other than the rain on roof, a strong wind, and nearly constant thunder, the crawlspace was pretty boring.

"No skeletons." I said down to Eleanor, only half kidding. "A couple of leaks, but your new roof will –"

Right then the sizzle and crack of lightning exploded right outside and a shockwave shook the house and threw me backwards off the ladder and into Sam. The momentum was so fast and strong, it took us into Eleanor, down the staircase, and out onto the floor beyond.

So, the final score: Eleanor whacked her head, broke her glasses, and - "This is so going in my next book…" - apparently got half the plot of her next novel handed to her on the dusty wooden floor. Sam's knee took a heavy hit and was swelling rapidly in the confines of the leg his jeans, he'd bit his lip and was dripping blood down his chin, and he was shaking his right hand like he was trying to wake it up. I had a shoulder in agony although it was still in its socket, thank goodness for small favors, and my head was spinning a little from a glancing blow on the downstairs doorframe. Of the three of us, I was still relatively mobile and I pushed up to my feet and helped Sam and Eleanor get themselves upright and sitting back against the wall.

"Eleanor, you throw the best parties…" I told her. She grinned but winced and pressed her hand against the back of her head. "Don't worry, we've got some squish and freeze things in the car. I'll pull up to the porch and get us out of here."

Or not, it turned out.

I opened the front door to find a massive – massive – pine tree laying across the narrow dirt driveway, close behind the Impala. So close, in fact, that one massive – massive – branch was dead center across the trunk of my baby. I muttered a quiet curse – Eleanor might have sensitive ears, after all – and hurried out into the rain to find out the worst.

The driveway was completely blocked. The only way out would be through the woods, and no way was a car getting through there. And my car –

My poor car.

I started her up and eased her forward, trying not to hear and feel the branch scraping itself off of the trunk. When it was free and clear I went around to get the first aid kit.

Or not.

The branch had buckled the trunk and I couldn't even get the key into the lock much less get the trunk open. Time for Plan B.

I went back into house, shaking the rain off of me. Sam had both hands gently pressed around the knee that was currently doing an excellent imitation of denim-covered football, and he was scrubbing his bloody lip against his shoulder. Eleanor was talking to somebody on her cell phone.

"A tree fell on the car, the trunk won't open." I told Sam, keeping it quiet to not bother Eleanor. "I need another way in. Eleanor calling rescue?"

"She's calling Rena."

Rena? Okay. We still hadn't met Eleanor's big sister but Eleanor sure talked about her enough. You'd think Rena was the strongest, smartest, most talented, most accomplished, bravest sister out there, from all Eleanor had ever said about her. I thought it was kind of sweet actually that somebody as old as Eleanor could still have that kind of younger sibling hero worship. But I seriously doubted Rena could get us out of this mess.

"No, we're all still alive." Eleanor was saying on the phone. "We all whacked our heads apparently. Dean hurt his shoulder, Sam twisted the heck out of his knee, I broke my glasses. Dean just said a tree fell on his car – I'll pay for that." She tossed up to me. "So we're kinda stuck here. Yeah, the electricity is still on. No, the tree didn't hit the house."

She listened briefly then asked of me & Sam, "Ambulance, anyone?" and when we both shook our heads, she relayed the answer to Rena. "No, we're OK. We just need to get out of here. Okay. We'll wait."

She slapped her phone closed and announced, "The cavalry is on its way."

To be continued