"I want my dolly! "
SPN Fanfic
Plot copyright 2016 D. Gray
I acknowledge Sam, Dean, Bobby Singer and the Impala are the property of The CW
THEN
Miller Residence, Ware, Massachusetts
She snuck around a corner, crouching like a small child who just wanted to see what was going on in the other room without getting caught. As she moved, she pulled her long, dark hair back into a ponytail. She was getting close, she could feel it.
The little yelp from a child down the hall was all she needed to move at full speed, and with less than four strides she was sliding into the bedroom of a small boy. He appeared to be holding a teddy bear, his arms stretched out as if looking at it fully, keeping it an arm's length away. She could see that there was something else there, a creature with bright red eyes, flowing hair and the evil face of something long dead. Its crooked, bony fingers clutched the bear and the boy's hands within its grasp, as its body floated above the floor.
Like an evil tooth-fairy, it grinned in her direction, laughing at her with a deep throated malicious enjoyment. It acted as if it had already won, but she had other plans. She lay on her stomach, pressed against the floor, and reached with one hand behind her back to pull out a small, sawed-off shotgun. With the other hand, she cocked it back, letting the salt pellets fly at the specter in front of her. The young boy screamed at the sound and ducked down under his bed, forgetting all about the bear in the room.
The ghoul roared with pain in her direction, its red eyes widening as it became angered by her actions. She sat up, braced herself against the doorjamb, and fired off another round, this time hitting it dead center. Nothing, the salt did nothing! She reached for the machete attached to her leg, it was heavy, made of iron and very sharp. As she stood to swing for it, the beastly thing came right for her. Her arm came down in a sweeping motion, aiming for its head, but just when it would have hit home, the damn thing disappeared and the blade stuck in the wooden molding of the door.
She yanked on the handle, prepared for the worst, and placed her foot against the wall to get more leverage. Just as she pulled it from its hold, the demon returned, and she swung. She caught it across the stomach as it snatched up the teddy bear and disappeared into the shadows of the closet.
She ran quickly towards the darkness and kept the knife in her hand as she frantically dug through the closet. She was suddenly startled by the bedroom's overhead light as it flicked on. She stopped and looked at the two horrified parents of the boy, as he crawled out from under the bed.
"What the hell is going on here?" The father asked as the mother wrapped her arms around her little boy.
"She saved me from the monster in the closest." The young one exclaimed as he grinned up at her. "But, Mommy, it took my bear."
"I'm calling the police!" The father exclaimed. She dropped the machete, raised her hands, and leaned breathlessly against the wall, as if to say she wasn't dangerous.
NOW
Sam Winchester sat typing away at the laptop in front of him, focused on the screen, the blue light illuminating the color of his eyes. He was so engrossed, he didn't even notice the cup of coffee that his older brother, Dean, had placed down beside him. He had been completely ignoring the bored sighs that were coming from the other side of the table. He pushed the long wisp of hair out of his sight for probably the twelfth time, annoyed. It wasn't until he felt the long end of a pen hit him across the forehead that he bothered to look up.
Sam's hazel eyes hit his brother's smiling green ones with a bit of annoyance and a scowl on his face. He pushed his chair back and took a deep breath. "What is it, Dean?"
"I'm bored!" The older one exclaimed, which made Sam give a small shake of his head. Dean leaned forward, his own coffee cupped between both hands. "Find me something to do."
Sam gave out a huff before turning the laptop so they both could look at the screen. "Ware, Massachusetts…" he began.
"Where?" questioned Dean with complete seriousness.
"Yes, Massachusetts," he repeated and continued, "a rash of disappearances in the area has the local cops pretty baffled. State troopers are out in full force but no one knows anything else."
"Huh," Dean nodded, as if still bored. "So?"
"The disappearances range in age from infant to young adult, most have been right out of their homes but they have a suspect in custody."
"Oh good, so why are you telling me?"
Sam turned the screen around fully so Dean could see the woman. She had long dark hair, and a cocky expression. "Get this… her name is Bobbie Singer."
Dean gave him a quick glance of disbelief and grabbed the computer. He looked over the photo of her for only a few minutes before he turned the laptop back to his brother. "Check out her necklace." Just above the edge of where the picture cut off was a small charm that he recognized from a long time ago. The original anti-possession one just like Bobby had given them before they decided on the tattoos. "What did you say was going on here again?"
"Disappearing kids, almost all were taken from their homes."
"Okay, so she's either a hunter, or a nutcase."
"Only one way to find out."
Twenty-four hours later:
The classic, 1967 black Impala idled up to the front of the Ware Police Department on North Street. It was a small-town brick building, that sat diagonally across the narrow street from a large church. Sam closed the laptop and sighed as he studied the square, one-story building. Dean leaned his head out the car window and stared up at the tower of the church.
"Welcome to Mayberry." He sighed, frowning at Sam as they got out of the car. Dressed to impress in suits and ties, the two of them, Sam slightly taller than Dean, walked into the claustrophobic reception area of the police department. They scanned around the room and noticed three seats to the right, one door straight ahead, another just past the chairs and a reception window to the left. An older woman with short gray hair greeted them with a smile.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" She questioned. Sam peeked at her name plate, Deloris Spellborne, and pulled a badge out of his pocket flashing it at the woman.
"I'm Agent Hetfield, this is my partner Agent Hammett. We're here about a suspect that you've detained," Sam flipped open a small black book, "a one Bobbie Singer?"
"Just a moment." She responded and stepped away from the window. Sam turned and was watching Dean flip through the missing and wanted flyers on the wall when the door opened and Deloris stepped aside. "This way, gentlemen."
While they followed her through the department, they noticed it was set up just like any other small-town station, but when she opened the door to the interrogation room, they knew that this wasn't just any typical case. A burly officer stood, with his arms crossed, at the side of a small table. He was tall, only a few inches shorter than Sam himself. He was a stern looking man, but to have someone his size guarding the woman who sat shackled to the metal table seemed a bit more than necessary.
"Officer Talbot was the arresting officer on the case. If you need any information, he can provide it." She explained but the straight-faced man didn't say a word. "Otherwise, let us know when you are done."
With that, both stepped out of the room to leave them with this petite, cuffed woman.
Dean cleared his throat and started to speak. "Bobbie Singer?" He asked, and received no response. "My name is Agent…"
"Dean," she acknowledged sarcastically and raised her head, looking up from the table. He stopped dead, and Sam watched as his mouth hung open. The scene was odd, he watched as his brother slowly pulled out a chair and sat down staring at the woman across from him. "There is no way you're going to pull off Agent Metallica in here, are you insane?"
"Beth?" he breathed, almost inaudible. Sam found himself watching the interaction with confusion. The woman looked up at Sam and smiled.
"It was the only way I could think of getting you here," she answered and picked up her hands, as if showing him the cuffs would make her explanation anymore valid. "I needed to get you and Sam to come to Ware. Using Bobby was the only way I could think of how to do it."
"Wait," Sam spoke up, "who are you?"
"Elizabeth," Dean replied for her. "Elizabeth Peterson."
Sam lowered his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose just between his eyes. "I'll get the papers set for her to be released to us." He stated and watched as Dean just stared. "I'm going to guess there's a case here?"
"I wouldn't be here if there wasn't." She grinned, but he saw the smirk fade when she looked at Dean. Sam nodded, the grimace on his face made his emotions evident to his older brother, who placed his hands on the table and folded his fingers together slowly. Sam patted Dean on the shoulder and left the room, leaving the two of them to catch up.
"Where the hell have you been?" Dean questioned. He meant for it to come out as a snap, to be angry and forceful, but it wasn't, not at all. In fact, the depth of his concern for her seemed to seep out with every word.
"Anywhere between here and the Canadian border." She shrugged.
"It's been years, Beth, with no calls, no contact? How are you even here?" Dean sat forward, closing the distance. "Do you even know what has been happening?"
"I know everything, Dean," she nodded and reached out, the tip of her fingers touched his hand, "and, I'm sorry."
"What's going on here?"
"A case, a…personal case."
"Your sister's case?"
She laughed. "We all get into the business somehow, Dean."
Just then, the door opened and Sam walked in with Officer Talbot. He said nothing but unlocked the bolt that held her to the table, and helped her to her feet. Without a word, at least, without one that Dean recalled, the three of them were escorted to the side entrance of the station and Talbot watched as they placed "Bobbie Singer," still handcuffed, into the backseat of the Impala.
After five minutes of nothing but the sound of the engine, Sam turned in the passenger's seat and watched Beth stare out the window. Her eyes were heavy and the dark circles under them told Sam that she hadn't slept peacefully in a while. When he noticed Dean looking back at her in the mirror, he nudged him and signaled for him to turn his eyes back to the road.
"I have a room at the Copper Lantern on Route 9, unless you already found a place to crash for the night." Beth spoke up as she slung the cuffs over Sam's shoulder. "It's off the main street, no one asks any questions."
Both agreed and headed out of town towards West Brookfield. The back, winding roads brought them through woods, past another inn and some small swamp area. Like she had mentioned, it was off the main road and just the kind of place they liked to stay in. Quiet, where no one asked questions. Sam went to the front office to get a room while Dean pulled the Impala up to door seven.
Once the room was opened and Beth flicked on the light, Dean whistled at the amount of research that lined the walls. Beth smiled as she took off her coat and flung herself on the closest of the two beds. She watched intently as he pulled out a chair and looked at the paper-covered wall.
Sam knocked as he opened the door slowly and found Dean watching Beth, who had fallen asleep soon after she laid down. He tapped Dean on the shoulder and gestured for him to follow but it seemed to be difficult for his brother to take his eyes off of the sleeping woman.
As soon as they stopped by the trunk of the Impala, Sam grabbed him by the arm. "What the hell is going on here, Dean?"
"I don't know, Sammy. She's supposed to be dead." He opened the trunk and grabbed the bags out even as he continued to watch the room in front of him.
"Who is she exactly?"
"You don't remember?" Sam only shrugged. "Before you and Dad had that big fight, before you left, we helped her father with a case in upstate New York. We were there for about two weeks. Beth followed us around like a smitten teenage girl. Seriously, Sam, she pulled you out of the river."
"I don't remember." Sam rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "So, you thought she was dead? Why?"
"The last thing we did before we left her father's place was salt and burn their bodies, and their house." Sam stared at him in complete shock, not for what they did, but for the way he said it, as if it wasn't a big deal.
"Are you sure it was her?"
"It wasn't." Dean replied and glared up at him. "I knew it wasn't her in that fire. I knew it in the pit of my stomach, I felt it in my bones."
"So what is she?" Sam pointed at the room. "Are you saying that isn't Beth?"
"I'm saying that I don't know, but I know that whoever is in that room is on our side." Dean replied as he grabbed his bag. Sam was going to point out that they were in room six, but Dean walked right into Beth's room without even a second thought.
Beth sat glaring at Dean, her light eyes catching the fluorescent rays of the outdated table lamp. Dean's green eyes looked her over as she leaned forward on the bed, and Sam only rolled his at his brother's behavior as he sat back and crossed his hands behind his head. They had been at this for more than an hour, just studying each other and as much fun as it was to watch, Sam was beyond annoyed.
"Alright," he spoke up, breaking the silence, "spill. What's your story?"
"Dean knows my story, and so do you, even if you can't remember it. Something killed my sister, John and the two of you came up to help get rid of it, and you did, but what you burned on that pyre wasn't me." Beth sneered.
"Then who was it?"
"Not a who, a what," Beth turned back to Dean. "Remember, before the hunt began, the two of us tried to sneak off into the woods, tried to get a handle on it?"
"No matter what kind of monster you might be, you would know that. We were kids, of course we were going to sneak off into the woods." Dean answered, which provoked a quick look from Sam as if asking; exactly what would you be doing? "Beth and I were together almost every minute of those two weeks, there is no way that I wouldn't have noticed the switch."
"But you didn't notice, Dean, because there was a moment that we weren't together. Just try to remember."
Dean looked down at his hands, thinking back to those two weeks and suddenly he did remember. "We got separated in the mineshaft, maybe twenty feet from the entrance. I heard a noise off to the left, told you to stay right there, but it was only a minute. I hadn't walked more than a few yards."
"In the dark, in a tunnel that went so far underground that most people who went in there got lost and died." Beth sighed, she moved over and knelt down in front of him, a gesture that Dean backed away from, until she placed her hands on his. "A moment was all it needed. To this day, I don't know what it was, a shifter, a demon, whatever, but I was out cold for hours. When I woke up I was lost in that mine. It took me three days to find my way out, and another two just to get my bearings to get home. By then my father was dead…you assumed I was dead."
Dean leaned in close to her, almost touching nose to nose. "You did die."
"Fine, then what was it that killed me?" Her tone was little more than a growl, feeling his anger, but not letting go. "Silver? Iron? Who took the shot? Who thrust the blade?" For a moment, Dean sat frozen, his facial expression was blank. Then suddenly, he was up and out of the room. Sam stood and watched as Beth moved back to the bed. "You're not going after him?"
Sam was actually debating on whether to stay and interrogate her more or go off and find Dean, but the way his brother left, Sam knew following him was the only option. Very rarely had Sam ever seen his brother walk something off. By the time he figured out that Dean hadn't gone very far, Sam found him headed back towards him with a bottle of whiskey in hand.
"Dean, what's going on?" Sam watched him walk by but then he suddenly stopped and turned to look at his younger brother.
"It's her, Sammy, it's really Beth." Dean replied.
"How? How do you know she's telling the truth?"
"I thought it was a trick of the eyes, that I had seen it wrong. There was so much fog and smoke from the house. I saw Paul put a knife in her heart, a silver knife, right before he died." Dean seemed to lose all of his strength in his legs as he squatted down, placing the bottle on the gravel. "I lost her in those tunnels, I watched her father kill her doppelganger, and I never thought anything of it. I did this to her Sammy, I left her alone all this time."
"I haven't been alone Dean." Beth's voice spoke up behind him. He stood quickly and turned towards her. She placed her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and shrugged. "I had Bobby. Rufus. Hell, at one point I was making my rounds at the bar with Ash and Ellen at the Roadhouse. I was not alone, I just never got the opportunity to run into the two of you again. It's how I know everything, Dean. From start to finish, I have watched and followed, but this one I had to do alone, until I couldn't."
Dean closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. Beth closed her eyes and let him hold her for as long as he needed. He could feel her heartbeat, smell the shampoo in her hair, and feel the heat of her body. He held on tighter, before suddenly taking her shoulders and pushing her back so he could look at her face.
"It wasn't your fault." She whispered and reached up to touch his cheek. His eyes glistened with tears but he sniffled and got his composure together before letting her go. Dean grabbed the bottle off the ground and threw a glance at Sam. "Do you want to know what we're up against or what?"
Both nodded and followed her back to the motel room.
Beth stood in front of the wall, her back to Sam and Dean, but she could tell they were making eye gestures back and forth as they waited. She turned and smiled as they both sat up straight.
"I'm not sure of what kind of spirit it is, I haven't quite gotten that part down but it uses what some people refer to as animism. Demons can't possess an inanimate object, just latch onto it. This one actually possesses it, and it collects them." Beth stated and grabbed a book, showing Sam the drawings of a crazed looking, cloaked woman with jagged teeth and clawed hands. "I've been tracking it for years, and the pattern is pretty specific. Every two years it pops up in different areas of New England. This time it happens to be in this small town. It snatches three to six at a time and then moves on. There's only one problem, the lore on it doesn't mention a way to kill it."
"So, we're pretty much screwed." Dean snapped.
"Not really."
"How do you stop something you can't kill?" Sam questioned.
"Well, the lore of animism is that people believe everything has a soul or a spirit. It literally means spirit or life, so if you believe in it hard enough, transferring a spirit to something like a doll or a stuffed animal isn't all that farfetched."
"We're talking about haunted dolls here?" Dean glanced at Sam in disbelief.
"It's not all that unheard of." Beth grabbed her journal and pulled up a chair closer to the boys. "This is an ongoing journal, kind of like what your dad gave you, but I got mine from my grandfather. It tells of a case of animism that happened in Massachusetts back in the early 1700s. A family living just outside the colonies was plagued by some sort of hysteria. They attributed it to the witch craze that was going on at the time, but their youngest daughter, Emmeline seemed to show signs of possession. She was speaking in Latin backwards, crawling up walls, black eyes, the whole nine. They brought in a priest to have her exorcised but that didn't work and he decided that he was going to go one step further. They brought in a shaman."
"Oh, that can't be good." Dean shook his head.
"No, not at all. In fact what they ended up doing was pushing Emmeline's spirit into the closest object to her, a doll one of the women in the colony had given the family when they decided to move. The mother had been told that the doll would bring them good fortune and a good harvest."
"Let me guess, it was from a witch?"
"They don't know, it doesn't specify, but it does speculate. Anyway, with the body free of its soul, the demon was able to take over completely and hell rained down on the family. Everyone was dead except the priest, and Emmeline's body disappeared. When they came and cleaned out the house, and by clean it, I mean they burned it to the ground, only the doll survived because another villager happened to grab it, to give to his girl, and so on. Two years after the destruction of the house, people began to disappear in the village, only a handful but they noticed something else went missing along with the people."
"It wouldn't have happened to be a doll?" Sam spoke up.
"Any object. It didn't need to specifically be a doll, its preference seems to be that but it can be anything. The problem was that within a month after disappearing the person would return to the town, but they weren't human."
"Demons?" Dean questioned.
"Reanimated corpses, "Night of the Living Dead" kind of deal. They didn't attack, they just went back to their houses, sort of a residual memory of the last place they remembered being alive. Of course, that, in itself, brought chaos to the village. The family members would end up doing the only thing they knew how. They would trap them inside and burn the house to the ground."
"So how does Emmeline's doll come into play?"
"It was tracked by the priest, who listened for the signs of possession, as he called them, and visited each place. He had the magistrates there check every house for the doll. The issue was, within two decades, the doll disappeared, but the killings continued."
"So since the doll vanished, how did he keep track?" Sam was a bit uneasy about the whole story.
"He tracked what went missing in the houses." Beth sighed, rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. "I know, it seems a little unreal but this is what I can tell you, every two years this thing pops out of the woodwork and kids disappear. It has a pattern, a route you could say. Towns, cities and villages following a specific path along the Quabbin, are being targeted, the one I stopped, that was the last one in Ware."
"How did you know it was going to try and grab the boy?"
"The day before it hits, kids start acting strange, like someone throwing a tantrum."
"That could be any spoiled brat out there." Dean added.
"It's pretty specific. The child, and I say child lightly because I've seen nineteen-year-olds get into these fits. They start acting like a little kid, throwing a hissy fit because they can't get what they want. It's not always a doll, sometimes it's a teddy bear, sometimes it's a G.I. Joe. Hell, one time I saw someone throw a fit over a plastic tea set. It's the way they do it that gives it away. That night whatever the hell it is comes to their room and takes them, but they have to go willingly. It's like the Candyman, it pulls them in and whatever object they have, the spirit takes it with them."
"Okay, so we have some sort of vengeful ghost that takes kids and their toys? For what reason?"
"It's collecting them." Sam spoke up. "The objects, you said animism is involved?" Beth nodded and watched as Dean looked back and forth between them, prompting Sam to continue explaining. "They have to voluntarily give up their souls, which goes into the object, that's why the body comes back lifeless."
"You mean like some kind of creepy doll collector?" Dean questioned.
"What is it with you and dolls?" Beth asked him, sarcastically and watched as he gave her a 'screw off' glance with his eyes before turning back to Sam, and she grinned.
"So, what's the plan?"
"What do you do with a vengeful ghost?" Beth asked and shrugged.
"Find the remains and turn them to ash."
"Exactly, but here's the problem. If you remember, I told you that Emmeline's body disappeared, so there is no body to burn."
"We have to find the doll." Sam spoke up, closing the journal.
"Exactly how do you track down a three-hundred year old doll?" Dean snapped.
"You follow the pattern." Beth grabbed a map from the floor and rolled it out on the table, both the brothers walked over and stood as she ran her hand along the lines highlighted on the map. "For years, I've been tracking the stops that it's made. They all run along the lines of what's now the Quabbin Reservoir. There were four towns that were disincorporated in 1938, Dana, Prescott, Enfield, and Greenwich," with each name she pointed them out on the map, "and it follows the lines of the Quabbin. Sometimes it strays but always comes back to the same place. Emmeline was born, and died, in Greenwich, the last of the four towns. When the land was divided off, and the town of Greenwich was leveled by the water, the last of its remains became part of the town of Ware."
"So this is her Ground Zero?" Dean pointed at the small town on the map.
"More specifically, the part of Quabbin that connects to the town of Ware seems to be. There are entrances to the reservoir not more than fifteen minutes from here." Beth watched as Sam grabbed the book and started to flip through it again. The look on his face told her a thousand words, but she needed to hear it from him. She needed to hear that he didn't believe her, and it didn't take long.
"You're on a wild goose chase for a doll that is over three centuries old and you have no proof that it even exists anymore. How are you going to find this thing?"
"Animism is not a new concept, Sam, it's a belief that non-human entities possess or can possess a spiritual essence."
"That still doesn't answer my question."
"Fine." She nodded and sat down at the table once more. "At each house I've been to, in search of this thing, there's always been a high level of EMF, and also this," she pulled out a small glass vial from her bag. It contained a nasty black slime.
"Ectoplasm." Dean sneered. "Great, I hate this stuff."
"What does it want with the kids, and the objects?" Sam inquired.
"I think it's the way it feeds." Beth grabbed the book from him and flipped through the pages. "There are different depictions of it through the years, and I mean a lot of them. Each one is a little different and it seems to get stronger each time . For instance, the priest in the beginning said that before the children were taken, they would say something about a little girl. Later on, it became a young woman, and now it's this thing." She stopped going through the pages and handed the book back to him. "The only way you're going to believe me is if you go back to the house, talk to the little boy, and investigate. It's what you guys do."
"What are you going to do?" Dean asked as she put some things in a bag.
"There's a place along the Quabbin where there are rumored to be some caves. If my hunch is right, that's where the spirit is hiding its collection of toys." She smiled and glanced at Sam, who was shooting questioning looks at his brother. "Don't worry boys, it's not like the thing wants me, I'm a bit too old for it."
She stepped out the door and made her way over to the small 1985 black Mustang that was parked off to the right of the parking lot. Dean followed close behind, and watched as she opened the trunk, then a metal locker underneath filled with guns, salt, knives, and other hunting materials. He wanted to say something, anything, but all he could do was observe as she placed different items in the bag, a rope, a flashlight, a silver knife, nothing really safe to hunt with.
"I'm going with you." He finally spoke up. Beth smiled as she turned towards him, slamming the hatch shut.
"I'm not that girl, Dean. I'm not going to get hurt or lost in a cave." But she could see that the past was wearing on him. "Talk to me."
"I just don't want you going by yourself. Sam can talk to the kid's parents, that's a one man job, but you going alone into a place with a monster who can't be killed by anything that we know of? That's not a good plan." Beth rested her hand on his chest and thought for a moment before giving him a light pat.
"A good plan would have been to tell you a lot sooner that I was alive and kicking." She opened the driver's side door and tossed the bag in. "But I didn't do that either. Go with Sam, maybe you two can get some information that I couldn't, a fresh set of eyes."
"Beth?" Dean pleaded.
"Dean, I'm not changing my mind." She slipped into the car, just as he reached out to grab her arm and a moment later the engine roared to life.
Dean watched as the car roared out of the dirt parking lot, kicking up dust as it went. Once back inside the motel room, Sam watched as he tossed his gun on the table and sat down to look at Beth's maps. He smiled at the frustration that one woman caused his brother, not used to Dean being this affected, but thoroughly enjoying it.
"Stubborn smartass!" Dean mumbled under his breath.
"Stubborn or not, she has this thing pretty well researched. Knowing what she does can bring a whole new twist on everything we do. Inanimate objects that possess souls, their own souls and not demons. What category does that fall under? How do you protect people from things that can come to life?"
"I just wish she didn't go alone."
"You can't protect her, Dean. She's a grown woman."
"I couldn't protect her back then either." He growled. "Fifteen years! Fifteen years and never once did I think back on that night and realize that I made such a big mistake."
"You weren't the only one there, Dean, you couldn't have known."
"I should have, Sammy, I should have been able to spot the differences. She was my best friend!" He put his head back against the wall and sighed. "It wasn't just those two weeks you know. We had seen her so many times. I don't think you remember, but Dad used to leave me with strict instructions that if anything ever went down, Paul was the one to call when we were in the area, and Beth," he paused for a moment, "Beth would sneak down to the motel, just to check in. After you were asleep, we would sit out on the step and talk all night."
"Really?" Sam smiled, fixing the tie around his collar. "I never noticed."
"That we talked, nah, you wouldn't have. We kept it secret, didn't want it to upset you."
"Me? Why me?" Sam was curious now. "How much of a secret?" It was the first time that the scowl left Dean's face as it turned to a grin, a wide knowing one that Sam just rolled his eyes at.
"What? We were teenagers, you can't blame me for what we did when we were kids."
"What you two did..?" he wanted to laugh, but he could see how deep the connection was just by looking in his brother's eyes. "Get dressed, we have stuff to do."
Barnes Cemetery, Pelham, Massachusetts
The Mustang rumbled to a halt in a patch of grass on the side of a winding back road. Beth looked around, waiting to see if anyone would drive by, but the road seemed unusually quiet for something so well maintained. She grabbed her bag and locked up the car before crossing the street towards a small grass trail that headed into the thick woods. It was obviously a driveway to something, but it was so unused that thick crabgrass had grown into the deep tire tracks.
Three-hundred feet from the road, Beth spotted the first part of the granite wall. As she stepped out into the clearing, she was met with an abandoned cemetery. The receiving vault was just ahead, to the side a small four-step stairway that lead up to the actual cemetery. As she looked around, not stepping past the iron gate, she noticed the strange way that the land had settled. Every grave was sunken in, the grass above them was dried and dead, unlike the ground around them which was lush with thick green grass.
She stepped back and over to the vault. It had a heavy iron door, which looked as if at one point it was rusted in place. The bar that had once secured it to the concrete wall, was bent at one end and the bolt lay on the ground beside it. The door itself was opened only a few inches, but that would be just enough for her to get a peek inside, at least to have some vantage point.
She clicked on a small flashlight, attaching a mirror to the end of it and pointed it into the darkness. Where the light shined directly into the stone crypt, she could see nothing but smooth black walls, but through the mirror, she noticed a small opening that sank deeper into the darkness, down in the corner. Beth only had one choice.
She turned the mirror slightly and pushed her arm further into the chilly air. "Please don't grab my arm," she prayed, "please don't grab my arm."
The flashlight beam landed on the small two-foot opening which looked as if it had been dug after the vault was erected. Each of the small, flat stones used to create the room's wall, had been placed on either side and dirt from the hole had piled up not more than two feet from it, as if an animal had dug down into the earth.
A loud knock against a tree behind her made her snatch her arm from the blackness and she pressed her back against the door, trying to catch her racing heart. In the direction of the sound, she noticed a small path that followed around the side of the cemetery walls. She followed it cautiously, until she happened to spot a hole in the side of the sloping hill. It was man-made, having the same flat stones for a wall and a slab for a roof. Crouching down, Beth shined the flashlight into the opening and noticed that it was only about two-feet in length, before it hit the same stone wall once again. Placing her bag to the side, she laid down flat against the leaf covered ground, placed the end of the small LED light in her mouth and crawled in only as far as the entrance.
The rest of the "cave" was rounded walls and a slate ceiling, as if it had been purposely built to hide someone or a few someones. It was the strange smell that caught her attention, drawing her to the corner closest to the cemetery. There, under a pile of undisturbed leaves, was another pathway into the darkness. It was at that point that she was sure she had the right place; she just needed back up, and the gall to go in and face it.
After a quick look around once more, she backed out, gathered her things and headed back to the Mustang, dusting off as she went. Beth tossed the bag in the back of the car and made her way to the motel and waited for Sam and Dean to finish what they were sent out to do.
Miller Residence, Ware, Massachusetts.
Sam rang the doorbell as Dean searched around the flowerbeds outside the house. When the door opened a petite blond woman stood in the doorway. She looked them over once or twice, taking in their neatly pressed suits before switching the weight on her feet.
"Mrs. Miller?" Sam smiled.
"Yes, how can I help you?" Both of them flashed the FBI badges they held.
"Agent Hetfield, Agent Hammett, FBI ma'am." Sam addressed her, Dean politely nodded. "We're here to follow up on an incident in your home. Could we come in and ask you a few questions?"
"I already talked to the cops about this."
"We've taken over the case and we just want to make sure we have all the facts straight." She stepped aside and gestured them in. Dean noticed the small boy that stood at the bottom of the stairs and gave him a wink. "From what we understand, you found a woman in your son's room?"
"Yes, we're still not sure how she got in but she fired a gun in the house, which is what woke up both my husband and myself." Mrs. Miller sat down on a plush chair, and Sam took the seat across from her as Dean approached the boy. "Donnie was under his bed when we came in and she was pulling a large blade out of the closet door. She just looked at us and put her hands up. What was she doing in the house?"
"Mrs. Miller, would you mind if my partner took at look at Donnie's room?" She shrugged and glanced at Dean, who knelt down in front of the blond-haired boy.
"Would you mind showing me your room, Donnie?" Dean spoke softly. The six-year-old nodded and walked him up the stairs.
"From what the suspect told the police and us upon questioning, she said she watched as someone broke into your son's room, found a way in herself and tried to stop the person from taking your son. Does that make any sense to you?" Sam continued with his questions.
"The window was opened, something we usually keep locked because of the air conditioning, but that night it was open. We assumed she came in through the window but the police said she confessed to picking the lock on the back door. Who confesses to things like that?" Mrs. Miller questioned frantically. "Donnie came out from under the bed and said that she took his teddy bear, but the woman was still in the room. Could there really have been someone else in there trying to kidnap him? That poor woman was just trying to save his life."
"Mrs. Miller, did Donnie seem to be acting a little unusual in the days prior to the break-in?"
"Not more than usual, we thought he had some sort of fever one of the days. It's why we bought the teddy bear that was stolen. He threw such a fit in the store because he didn't feel good and had to have it. We just wanted to save the embarrassment of his tantrum so we got it for him. Is that how they target children, by the toys you buy them?" Sam could see that she was getting a little more upset with each passing question so he had to change directions.
"It's okay, Mrs. Miller, the bear has nothing to do with it, but I have a few odd questions for you. Have you seen any strange shadows, smelt any sulfur? Knocks on the walls or unusual activity?"
"No," she replied, quite confused.
Dean was yanked up the stairs by the little boy ahead of him. Donnie had a tight grip on his hand and there wasn't any sign of him letting go, but as they rounded the corner, Dean watched as the kid gave a terrified glance into the room to the left. Dean pointed at the room, not saying a word and opened the door. It seemed that no one had entered since the night of the break-in, grains of salt still littered the hardwood floor. The shotgun shells were gone since the police took them for evidence, but he could see the mark where her machete had stuck into the door frame.
As he stepped further into the room, he heard Donnie whine, so he did the only thing he thought would help. He shushed the boy and slowly made his way to the closet. Once there, he moved the clothing slowly until he was able to show the little man that there was nothing to be afraid of. He smiled at Donnie then glanced to the back wall. There, burnt into the woodwork, was a circular mark big enough that it might have been mistaken for a hole. Dean reached out and touched the spot, the blackened tar stuck to the tips of his fingers and he couldn't help but turn his lips up in disgust.
"Donnie, can you tell me what happened that night?" Dean asked in a hushed voice as he walked away from the closet and knelt down in front of the boy.
"She came out of there and told me she wanted my bear." He answered truthfully. "I told her that it was mine and she couldn't have it, so she said I could come with her and we could share it. To be honest, she was a little creepy, her nails were all dirty and stuff. I think she really needed a bath instead of an animal."
Dean couldn't help but smile, the kid wasn't going to let some creepy ghost scare him. "So what happened when the other lady came into your room?"
"It was SO cool. She grabbed a shotgun and BANG! BANG! Shot the ghost twice, but nothing touched it. Then she pulled out this huge knife and swung at it, got it right across the stomach too. She's my hero, but it went back in my closet, and it took my bear." Donnie was so animated when he told the story that Dean found himself laughing at the boy's explanation. "When she shot the gun and the ghost backed away, I ducked down and hid under the bed. It tried to grab the lady but she was like Superman and went right after it."
"Yeah, she is like Superman, isn't she?" Dean smiled. "So look, kid…Donnie, it looks like the lady scared it away when she hit it with the knife. You should be okay if you want to sleep in your room again."
"Really?" He asked as the two of them headed off down the hall. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Sam and Mrs. Miller stood and met them. "Mom, he said I could sleep in my room again."
"It looks like whoever it was might have been injured by the suspect we have in custody." Dean explained. "If that's the case, there's little to no chance that they will come anywhere near this house again."
"Thank you both." She grinned as they walked towards the door.
"Don't be afraid to get in contact with us if something should come up, or if you happen to remember anything else." Sam handed her a card with his cell phone number on it and the two of them walked out the door. He glanced at Dean as they got into the car. "So what do you think? Stake out?"
"I think Beth is Superman." Dean's grin widened. "That kid gave a pretty detailed description of what she did to it, but the fact that nothing stopped it might mean it'll try again."
"Unless we find it first."
"Exactly." He swung the car around and headed back towards the motel.
The Mustang was sitting right outside Beth's door when they arrived, and while Sam headed for their room, Dean went straight for hers. Both men stopped just before opening each door and Dean gave him a wink, as he disappeared into Beth's room. Sam sighed, rolled his eyes and entered a dark room six, shutting the door behind him.
Dean listened as he stood next to the small table in the room. He could hear the shower, see the steam through the open door and looked down at the pile of clothing at the end of the bed. His grin widened as he reached down and using one finger, looped it through the strap, to pick the lacy bra up from the ground.
Just as he stood up straight, he could feel eyes on him, just beyond the bra and looked at the towel-clad woman resting against the bathroom door jamb.
"I'm pretty sure that's not your size." She stated sarcastically as he dropped it back in the pile on the floor. "What did you find out at the house?"
"Ah..." he started, watching as she bent down to rustle through the drawers, the towel just long enough to keep everything covered, and once again he met her eyes. Nervously, he rubbed his hands on his pant legs as he sat down on the edge of the closest twin-sized bed, but it wasn't because she made him edgy, totally the opposite. She made him want to touch her. "Well, according to the kid the ghost wanted him to come with her. It said that they could share the toy and apparently, he thinks you're a superhero."
"What?" She laughed. "That's a first." She moved into the bathroom with her clothes and came out with jeans and a tank-top on, but watched as Dean threw wanting glances her way. "God, the last time I saw that look on your face, I think it was just before your first attempt to touch my boobs."
"It was not." He defended quickly and studied her. "I just…I don't know what to do with myself. You're here, I never thought I would see you again, but Beth, people around me die."
"How long did you say it's been, fifteen years?" She stood not more than two feet from him and he stared up, into her blue eyes. "If that shifter didn't kill me, Dean, being near you isn't going to change that."
"You'd be surprised how fast they drop off." He growled, shied away, and suddenly turned, gently stroking his hands up to her shoulders. Those hands traveled to rest gently on her cheek and he leaned in brushing his lips ever so softly against hers. Beth rested one hand against his chest as his lips pressed harder and she felt herself giving in. It was Dean, she thought, how could she not.
She pushed him back on the bed, but only enough so that she could straddle his lap to get down at his eye level and heard him breathe in deeply. He released her from the kiss but just slightly, feeling the heat as her body pressed against his. He braced himself by stretching one arm out behind him and leaned back away from her, the fingers of the other hand traveled down the line of her V-neck. "Beth, please."
"I'm not a little girl, I'm not going to break." She leaned in and whispered in his ear.
Dean rolled his eyes, wanting desperately to give in to the feeling of having her so close. She placed a hand on his cheek, letting the feel of the stubble caress against the palm of her hand and slowly she leaned down, placing her lips against his forehead. With that small gesture, he didn't hold back and wrapped his arms around her. He swallowed hard as her lips traveled down close to his ear, her warm breath blew against him, and his body's natural reaction was to lean into it.
She stopped just shy of his lips and pulled back, their eyes mere inches from each other. He could feel her breath against his, the warmth so close, and he could no longer resist. Dean leaned towards her, placed one hand behind her head and the other around her waist, pulling her hips closer to his as his lips grazed hers with the softest of touches. He could taste her, feel her and he knew that there was no way he was going to be able to stop.
The kiss deepened as they both became ensnared in the passion of this embrace. He wanted to feel her skin. His hands slipped beneath the bottom of her shirt, gripping at her waist, and his fingers spanned outward, reaching in all directions, slowly moving up, until the tip of his thumb was just under the line of her bra.
That was when the door opened and Sam came busting in. "Dean!"
Quickly, his hands moved, as Beth pulled the fabric down and turned her smiling face in the opposite direction of the man in the middle of the room. Dean, on the other hand, held his eyes closed, with his arms still wrapped tightly around her and slowly opened them to look annoyingly at his younger brother.
"I'm…" Sam started, "sorry, listen this can't wait."
"I figured," Dean smiled, and glanced at Beth, "but you'll have to at least give me a minute."
It took Sam just about that long to figure out why his brother was asking. "Oh! Um, okay, I'll be back in a minute." And with that, he made a hasty exit out of the room.
Beth sat back, and smiled at the man under her. "I can see that this is going to be just like old times."
Dean sighed as she slipped off of his lap. "Yeah, but it's a little more difficult to hide from a grown man than it was some teenage pain in the ass."
"I don't know, I think Sam knew more than he was letting on." Beth grabbed a tee-shirt and pulled it over her head, which was met with a look of disappointment from Dean. "I think it's why he doesn't remember." Dean ran a hand down his face, as if it would help erase the past. "Don't worry, it's not forever."
"Yeah, you say that now, just wait until he finds out." He mumbled and adjusted himself as he flopped back on the bed. "So, what do you think Sammy found?"
"I don't know," Beth laughed, "if you're deflated enough, I'm sure we could let him in and find out."
Dean grabbed the closest object, a hard motel pillow and tossed it at her, missing by an inch. "Deflated," he grumbled under his breath as he heard the door open again.
Sam walked in once more, a little red in the cheeks but he set the laptop down and got right to the point, or at least as much as he could with Dean still lying on the bed. "So," he started as he sat down and cleared his throat, "I was doing more research on Beth's journal and I found some interesting things, mostly through the archives."
"You downloaded the archives?" Dean questioned and watched as Sam gave him a little shrug. "How?"
"I scanned them in, it's not important." He brushed off the inquiries as best as he could before continuing. "Before they branched off to the United States, the British Men of Letters came across the same thing we have going on here, but it was dated back before the colonies settled in the Massachusetts Bay area. A young girl had taken ill and was thought to be possessed, so they did whatever they could to get rid of it. Exorcism, Druid priests, nothing helped so the organization stepped in and brought a Demonologist with them. They found out that several weeks before the girl became afflicted with whatever the hell she had, she was given a doll from an elderly woman on the street."
"So some parent let their kid just take a doll from a complete stranger?"
"It was a different time, Dean, it's not like they had people snatching kids up in creepy white horse-drawn carriages." Beth chuckled, and watched as Dean reached for another pillow.
"Guys, seriously." Sam intervened. Beth sat back against the dresser as she continued to smile at Dean. "They attempted to hunt down the woman but weren't able to find anyone matching her description at all."
"London is a pretty big city, even back then. It doesn't surprise me that they couldn't find her."
"That's not what I'm getting at." He turned his laptop so she could see the picture that was sketched of some woman. "This is why I brought it up. When asked to describe who gave her daughter the doll, this is the description she gave." Beth stepped closer, staring at the drawing of the exact same spirit that was in her journal. "According to them, it's didn't just possess Emmeline's body, it turned her into whatever IT is."
"Does it say how to kill it?" Dean spoke up, sitting upright on the bed.
"Apparently once you find where it lives, you have to find the original doll and like other spirits salt and burn it, for the most part." Sam shrugged.
"For the most part?"
"It gets a little sketchy about the actual details, but I believe you have to also need a piece of something from her home as well."
"Great, a three-hundred-year-old ghost and her hometown is under water," Dean gruffed, "do the archives tell you how we can find something that belongs to her, in a place that we don't even know exists?"
"Actually, I think I found out where she's stashing things." Beth spoke up, both boys turned to look at her. "That's where I was today. Barnes Cemetery in Pelham is a small family plot just about two miles from the Reservoir. All historical accounts say that it's the resting place of Emmeline's surviving family members." She watched as they stared, waiting for some sort of relevant information. "In the receiving vault there's a hole in one of the walls that leads under the cemetery and comes out just east of the stone wall, inside a man-made cellar hole, or at least I think it's a cellar hole. Either way, I think that's where it's stashing things. We just have to get in."
"A cemetery, are you kidding me?"
"With an underground cave." She smiled as if watching him squirm was the highlight of her day.
"Okay, so Sammy, you stake out the Miller's place and Beth and I will take the cemetery." Sam nodded but watched as Beth crossed her arms.
"I don't need a protector, Dean."
"I didn't say I was being one, I just said I was going with you."
"Would you two like me to leave so you can have your little lover's spat in peace." Sam suggested, trying to keep his laughter in.
"No!" Both answered in unison.
"This is what we're going to do, and that's final." Dean stood from the bed and walked straight out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
"Hm," Beth glanced at Sam, "I don't remember him being so intense."
"Oh, he's always been intense." Sam smiled. "But he gets more so when it's someone he cares about. He thought he lost you once, Beth, he's not going to let you out of his sight again."
"I'm going to guess that the whole underground cave deal doesn't help the situation either, right?"
"That would be my guess."
"Well, let's get a little sleep and then we'll shoot out and get this thing done." She walked over to the bed Dean had just been on and curled up with a pillow, watching Sam pack up his laptop. "Hey Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't remember, do you?" The question had him stop for a moment before he gave a slight shake of his head. "It's probably better that way."
"Sleep tight, Beth." He whispered and closed the door behind him.
She was on the verge, in that veil between waking and sleep, when she felt the weight on the bed behind her. She knew who it was, even after all the years between them, that familiar feeling as he pushed his body up against hers, pulling her back towards him and wrapped his arms around her. The way he smelled, even after all this time was still recognizable, and with a deep breath, just to take in his scent, she let the dreams take over, at least for a little while.
It was what he had always done when they were near, he would protect her. Both ears listening for Sam, even when John was around, and both eyes on Beth. Dean would never sleep when they were together, he would hold her, just like he was now. With his face buried against the back of her neck, the feel of her hair and the perfume of her skin were still the same, even the feel of her body against his was right. But that was only after what happened with Sam. He just wished his brother could remember so he could deal with the aftermath and get it over with, but for now, he was going to protect her the best he could.
Her hand slipped under his and her small fingers, as fierce and mighty as they were, intertwined between them, and she squeezed, making sure that he was there with her. Dean smiled, but the fear in his gut of losing her again wouldn't subside. He had an ache for happiness, but also the knowledge that no one he had ever loved had survived him unscathed.
It wasn't much before dusk, maybe an hour or two, when a knock on the door made Beth jump. Her instant reaction: pull Dean closer, as instinct had her going for the gun under the pillow.
"Relax," his warm breath brushed against her ear as she felt his weight shift, and she released the handle of the gun. "It's just Sammy."
"I brought coffee." Sam smiled as he placed the cardboard tray down on the dresser.
"My new hero." Beth teased, as she turned over on the mattress, and Dean glanced back at her while he slipped off the bed.
After a few minutes of silent coffee worship, the brothers watched as Beth began to pack as much things as she could into a bag.
"What are you bringing? The whole house?" Dean smirked and watched as she picked up the shotgun.
"Salt shells, not that it did a damn thing before, but since we're getting close to where it hides, it might do some damage. Silver Bowie, just in case there's any possibility that some part of it is a shifter. Colt loaded with silver bullets," she said, smiling amorously at the weapon before slipping it in the back of her jeans, "because, well, I like it." She listed everything off as she went on to toss in a few flashlights, some rock salt and an odd looking piece of cloth, a dark sheepskin with different shapes etched into it.
"Wait," Sam spoke up before the bag was zippered. "What was that?"
"What," she pulled it back out, "this?" Opening the cloth completely the boys could make out the different runes and symbols from all different cultures. "I got it from some woman named Bela a long time ago, after I saved her ass from a werewolf. Apparently she was trying to see if she could get it's teeth… not sure what she wanted with them, never asked, but she said this would hide you from anything unholy. It's worked a couple times, so I just take it with me."
"Bela Talbot?"
"Yeah, why?"
"She stole a couple things from us a while back." Dean replied with the same irritated look on his face that she remembered from the times that Sam had gotten on his nerves. "The only woman I ever wanted to strangle."
Beth laughed. "It doesn't surprise me if she rubbed you the wrong way, she seemed to have a knack for that. The werewolves didn't like her either." Beth sat down and glanced back and forth between them. "So let's get our game plan in order. Sam's staking out the Miller's tonight," she focused on him, "make sure you're packing and prepared for anything, I don't think it will be vulnerable until we get close enough to the doll." She turned to Dean. "I guess you're stuck with me, Cowboy, but listen don't go jumping headlong into the line of fire just to save my ass, or I'll shoot you myself."
"Yes, ma'am." Dean grinned.
Sam idled up in the Impala and parked across the street from the large, two-story home that he had been in earlier that day. He had made notes of every entrance and where Donnie's bedroom was in regards to the layout of the house. All he had to do was wait for something to happen. He just hoped that Beth and Dean were having more luck than he was.
Dean moved the Mustang down the bumpy grass drive straight to the cemetery gate. He cocked his head, giving it a once over in the light of the car's high beams.
"You've got to be kidding me." He mumbled, which only got a grin from Beth and a total lack of sympathy from her. "Why do they always put this stuff in caves, and on top of that, in a damn cemetery?"
"You're not chicken shit are you, Dean?" She laughed, collecting her bag.
"Did you bring me here to help, or just be a smartass?" He countered.
"Um," she glanced around a bit then stared at him with a smile. "A bit of both."
He closed the door and grabbed his own pack while shaking his head. "Come on, let's get this done and over with before I decide to tie you to one of the stones and let it eat you."
The receiving vault wasn't more than ten feet from the car, so that was where they headed first. The heavy door was their only obstacle but with both of them pulling from the outside, they were able to get it open, just enough so that Beth could shimmy her way through. On the other side, in the cool darkness of the stone walls, she cracked three emergency sticks, lighting the place up while she worked to get Dean through. She planted her feet firmly on the slab floor and pressed all of her weight against the door. She watched his knuckles turn white as he pulled as hard as he could, opening it only three more inches before both leaned against the door.
"You're just going to have to squeeze your big head in through the opening." Beth laughed as she tried to catch her breath.
"Big head." Dean said sarcastically. "When we're done here, I'll show you a big…"
"Shh!" Beth cut him off quickly and listened to the faint noise that was coming from the opening in the corner of the vault. It sounded a lot like scratching, something with long nails against the rocks and the sound was getting louder. "I take it back, just get in here."
Dean heard the need in her voice and tossed the bags through the door, turned sideways and shimmied in only so far before he got stuck. Beth looked at him, but her flashlight was trained on the hole. She gave him a questioning look as he shifted around like he was caught on something. He then brought his right hand over his head, fingers wrapped around the handle of the Colt, and was able to move his way through the door. He pushed her behind him as he crouched down to look into the darkness.
His phone vibrated just as he got close enough to hear the approaching danger, which made him jump back and land hard against his tailbone. With a roll of his eyes, he grabbed the phone and looked at the text.
"It's from Sam." He whispered. "There's something going on at the Miller's place."
"Tell him to be careful." He looked at her, then down at the phone, handing it off. "Right."
Dean turned back towards the opening, his light focused on the darkness just as a rat scurried out towards them. He jumped backwards, once more, this time toppling over Beth, basically pinning her beneath him. With a smile on her face, she looked into his eyes and kissed his nose.
"I never knew you were such a romantic," she laughed and watched him roll his eyes as he shifted his weight and sat up. "We're going to have to go down there."
"I know." He said softly, but she could tell that it wasn't just the tunnel that he was worried about. Beth placed her hand on his cheek.
"You're not going to lose me this time." She whispered, watching him take a deep breath in. "Let's do this, kill the bitch and get out of here."
"Amen to that." He smiled and the two of them began the slow crawl into the hole in the wall. Dean went first, his flashlight leading the way and it felt like they had gone on for more than twenty minutes before he suddenly stopped. Beth hit his boot with her flashlight. "We've hit a cavern."
He turned over the best he could, looking for a safe way out of the passage, and finally found a vine that he could grab onto to pull himself out. His feet hit the ground about four feet below the opening. Before helping Beth down, he canvassed the area with his light. She took his hand, and let him pull her from the dirt.
The cavern was just tall enough for Dean to stand up in, even though it meant that there were roots hitting him in the forehead. It was large enough so that the flashlight beams disappeared into a thick darkness but it was definitely something that was man-made. Beth stepped off towards the right while Dean surveyed the scene. She aimed her light along the walls, closest to the floors and made her way around the irregularly shaped room.
Dean glanced over at her, as she bent down at the waist and for a moment, he caught himself staring at her backside, before he shook it off and followed her. "Hey, don't go wandering."
It was about the time that he caught up that she had found what she was looking for, a mound of old toys against the dirt wall, some of them placed on dug-out, makeshift shelves.
"Jackpot."
"Now what? We still have to find the one that belongs to it." Beth kneeled down, after staring for a moment at the ones on the wall.
"It's buried." She replied, looking at the pile beneath her. "Under all of these, it has got to be down there."
"So let's just burn them all." She watched as he flicked open the lighter.
"No," she snapped, shutting it quickly. "If all the research is right, these dolls contain the souls of its victims. You burn them there is no telling where the souls go after they are released, or exactly how pissed off they're going to be."
"Good point." He put the lighter back in his pocket, dropped the bags on the floor next to her and knelt down. "Let's get digging."
Sam tried to keep his eyes locked on the house, there was nothing else he could do. The last reply from Dean and Beth was over an hour ago. He hated that his brother had gone in, feelings first with this one. Not that he didn't trust Beth, but this case was just one of the things he couldn't wrap his head around. As his mind went in twenty directions, the lights that were on in the house started to flicker. It was just then, as the lights went out completely that the cell phone in his pocket vibrated.
Quickly, he reached for two things, the machete by his side and the cellphone on his lap. With a quick slide of his finger, he could hear the boy screaming in the background and Mrs. Miller's panicking voice.
"Sam, help! It's come back!" And then there was silence.
That was all he needed to sprint towards the house. The door was locked, and there was no time to pick it so with two swift, solid kicks, the large wooden door broke open. With his gun in hand, the knife clipped to his belt and the flask of Holy Water dangling on a chain between his fingers, Sam made his way up the stairs.
In Donnie's room, the child stood facing the spirit, standing up as tall as he could, with as much strength to protect his mother as he could muster. Sam could see, from peeking his head around the corner, that Donnie was losing the battle.
He watched the boy outstretch his hand, and his mother screaming in terror, as she sat pinned by an unseen force against the wall. The long, bony fingers of the spirit reached out towards Donnie as he was inching closer to it, the bear in the grasp of the monster's other hand. It was then that Sam came around the corner, gun blazing and put it in his sites.
"HEY!" He yelled, giving Donnie enough time to react and jump out of the way before he fired off three shots. It did nothing to it except piss it off more. Sam tucked the gun away and pulled out the blade. He covered the iron-edged blade with the water in his hand and went in swinging.
The spirit dodged and weaved, as if it were a real person and knew just what kind of actions to take to avoid being hit, but there was one thing it didn't count on. Sam went right for the hand holding the bear and with one precise swing, chopped it off. The bear rolled as the spirit roared in anger, grabbing Sam by the jacket. It tossed him across the room, slamming him into the dresser and moved towards him, hovering over him as its eyes, or more precisely where it's eyes used to be, began to glow a bright red.
Sam was stuck, his weapons were either behind him or across the room and this thing wasn't letting up. He tried to reach, tried to get to the handle of the blade but it was much too far away. He turned his head to the side as the spirit crept closer, trying to catch his soul, a deep growl in the very heart of its evil. Suddenly there was silence and Sam opened his eyes to see Donnie standing just to the left of the creature. The boy's hands tightly wrapped around the handle of the blade, with the end of it resting deep into the side of the monster from his closet.
The spirit roared and, as if pulled by a vacuum, was sucked back into the closet. The blade fell against Donnie's toys, unable to pierce the wall. Sam glanced up at the boy, who shook uncontrollably, and tried to catch his breath as he reached for his cellphone. Dean's voice was scratchy at best but that wasn't important, the message was.
"Dean, get out of there! It's coming back!" He warned before the line once again went dead. Donnie's mother wrapped her arms around her boy as Sam crawled over. "You did good, Donnie, you did really good." He turned to Mrs. Miller and sighed. "I have to go, I have to help my brother finish this off. Take him out of here, go somewhere public, with lots of people, even the police station if you have too.
"Thank you." She smiled up at him, but it wasn't over yet, and all Sam could do was nod.
He stood and walked over to the closest to collect the blade that the boy had bravely swung, and that was when he noticed the bear was missing. "Oh no."
He ran out the door, gunned the Impala and headed towards the coordinates that Beth had given him before they went their separate ways. It was going back to its lair and it had one empty vessel.
Beth watched as Dean's face became filled with anxiety, not fear, but she knew that he was aware of the danger when this thing came back. The two of them continued digging out the doll, bears and other toys that seemed to fill the five foot long space against the wall. They were in the middle of decades worth of possessions when they heard the first scream, like an air siren going off. It was coming closer.
Dean got every weapon ready for battle as Beth kept digging. Porcelain dolls, Victorian era ones, some were so old they were brittle but she tried her hardest to keep them intact. She almost had to bend over to reach the bottom of the hole.
"It's not here." She mumbled as she reached into the dirt.
"What?" Dean snapped as he glanced over at where she was.
"I don't see it, it's not here."
"Keep digging, the bitch is coming." Just then Dean felt something wrap around his foot in the darkness and he moved the light from the hole in the ground to where the spirit stood before him. He was going to scream, but instead grabbed the shotgun and let off a blast of rock salt. Dean had made a circle of salt around Beth just before they started digging but it grabbed ahold of him and dragged him into the darkness.
"DEAN!" She screamed, turning the flashlight to try and locate him in the dark. Dean shot off another round, lighting up the room and she listened as he traded blows, as much as you could with a spirit that strong.
"Keep…" he yelled, "digging!"
Beth turned back to the hole once more and pushed the dolls out of the way until she cleared most of the bottom of the pit. She had almost given up hope when she felt something beneath her fingers, something rough and thick. With the flashlight by her side, she dug in with both hands and pulled out a leather wrapped object. Placing it by her side, she untied the old rope and opened it up to find a cornhusk doll perfectly preserved in a small cotton dress, with locks of blond hair. Emmeline's hair. She had found it.
It took her a moment to realize what she needed next and the bag was behind her. She scooped up the doll and moved out of the circle to grab the salt, lighter fluid and Holy Water.
"Dean!" She called out, wanting a response from him, needing one as she continued.
"Burn it!" He answered.
She placed the doll in a small circle of salt, poured the lighter fluid and more of the rock salt on it then grabbed the lighter out of her pocket. "Absolvo te a vinculo liberum ponam spiritum," she chanted as she set the doll on fire. "Absolvo te a vinculo liberum ponam spiritum, Absolvo te a vinculo liberum ponam spiritum."
She watched as it blazed before her but she could still hear the battle going on in the darkness. Dean could see her, once the spirit had released him and he watched in horror as it moved in her direction, picking up the dingy bear. He couldn't move, couldn't get to her as if It had pinned him to the floor with invisible ropes.
Beth looked up as it came closer, her voice still chanting the words, as she sprinkled the water on it, but for a moment she stopped and remembered what Sam had said. They needed something from her home, something that tied her to the doll.
"The leather." She whispered to herself as she left the doll burning and turned back to the hole where she grabbed the leather wrap.
"Beth!" Dean screamed as he watched her disappear into the darkness. "Get back in the circle!"
She returned just as the thing hovered above her head, and touched an edge of the leather down against the small blazing object. It screeched as she set the leather ablaze, watching it as they both burned quickly and whispered softly in English. "I release you from your bond, I set your spirit free." The creature before her wiggled as it also seemed to set fire, releasing Dean from the hold it had on him. He was instantly by her side as they both watched it burn. "God rest your soul."
With that, the creature exploded, shaking the cavern, loosening the dirt around them. Dean tugged on Beth's arm, moving her towards the opening on the other side of the cavern. "We have to get out of here before it comes down on top of us." Dean watched as she stared at the pile of dolls. "Beth, come on."
She snapped out of her trance just as the walls started to come down and let Dean pull her out through the small hole in the wall, into the cellar opening and then out into the cool night air. He continued to pull at her, as if she had no way of comprehending which way to go, and sat back against a tree, holding her tightly against him.
"All those souls." She whispered sadly, but a rumble in the Earth made them both brace themselves, as a light illuminated the entrance of the chamber. It became so bright that they had to shield their eyes and wait for it to pass. The rumble stopped, the light went dark but Beth continued to listen to the beat of his heart.
"They're free now." Dean whispered, as he relaxed under her, wrapping his arms tighter. He placed his lips against her dirty hair and sighed.
"Dean!" Sam's voice called out from the silence.
"Over here, Sammy." He cried back, but it only came out in a soft groan, he didn't have the energy for that.
Sam rounded the corner from the main cemetery gates and made his way down the path to see a crumpled mound of rocks and dirt to his left, and Dean and Beth propped up against a tree to the right. His brother opened his eyes only just a little, flashed him a quick grin and closed his eyes once more. Blood ran down from a cut above his eye and Sam could see the small gashes that covered his cheeks. Sam's chest pounded as he whispered a soft prayer of thanks that they were both safe.
The Copper Lantern, West Brookfield, Massachusetts
Dean dabbed at the cut above his eye, wincing, and backed away from the mirror. Sam sat at the small table, typing away at the keys as Dean pulled a clean shirt on, over his head. He pressed his ear against the wall that joined their room to Beth's and listened as she moved around.
"She sees you doing that she's either going to be pissed or call you a perv." Sam laughed.
"As long as she calls me something." He replied, sitting down on his bed. "You should have seen her in there, Sammy, she really was like Superman."
"Superwoman."
"Whatever," he shook his head, "I'm not going to be able to let her out of my sight again." He confessed as he locked eyes with his brother.
"I know you won't Dean, that's just who you are, but is she going to understand that?"
"I don't know, I guess we'll see."
"See what?" Beth's voice interrupted as she walked through the door with wet hair and clean clothing. She sat down next to Dean on the bed and glanced back and forth between them. "What is up with you two?"
"How did you know to burn the leather?" Dean questioned, not that he didn't already know, but he needed to get off the topic that he and Sam were on before she walked in.
"When I opened it, I thought I saw something written on it, but I grabbed the doll so fast that I didn't take it with me." She looked down at her hands and shook her head. "It had you, I thought there was no way I was going to be in time to save you. Burning the doll wasn't working and then I remembered what Sam said, something from her home. In the journal, her father was a tanner, and that made me think of the leather. It was an engraved piece of a leather papoose, one used by Emmeline to hold her dolls." Dean let out a long breath and lay back on the bed with his legs still hanging off. Beth smiled and looked at Sam who was staring at his computer. "What do you have Sam?"
"Nothing, I was just looking further into the legend from London, and it makes me wonder if maybe they had brought it with them when they came over." He shrugged.
"Does it matter?" Dean asked quietly, his arms over his eyes. "Can't we just be done with the damn creepy dolls already?"
"How about breakfast then?" Sam pulled up the menu from the Ware Café online and looked over what they had to offer. When he glanced up at the two to tell them, he smiled, Beth was curled up against Dean, her head on his arm, and a hand on his chest, both sound asleep. "I guess I'm going alone."
Sam stood, grabbed the keys to the Impala, and headed out of the room, locking the door behind him.