A/N: Hey guys! This story is for the people who like reading sisfics for Supernatural! I hope you all like it. Please leave a review if you can or message me whatever you would like it see! I'll try to update at least once a week, maybe more if I'm on a roll. Anyway, I hope you like it.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters of Supernatural. Just my character: Allie Winchester(:
Episode: Pilot
I am currently sitting in the passenger seat of Dean's 1967 Chevy Impala. My lips are pursed and my arms are crossed like a young teenager giving her parents attitude for not letting her go to a party. That's exactly how I feel too because Dean and I are currently on our way to Sam's apartment at Stanford University in California.
Now, don't get me wrong. I love Sam and we grew up really close—I mean I had no choice...we shared a womb together for nine months. It's because we were so close that I was heartbroken to hear that Sam left for college without any goodbye. After a huge blow out with my dad, he stormed off with his pre packed luggage and took off while I was at the store. When I got home, Dean told me the whole story—the ultimatum my father gave him: Sam could stay and we'd pretend like the college fight never happened or Sam could leave and never come back. It's a damn shame he chose the latter. My twin brother would occasionally call Dean and I after he settled in. He told me that he was sorry for leaving me so abruptly and I'd forgiven him. But then his calls kept getting less and less frequent. He stopped calling us about two years ago and neither Dean nor I have spoken to him since. Of course at first we were nervous that his hunting life had caught up to his Apple-pie life at Stanford so dad, unknowingly to Sam, would stop by and check up on him. It turned out he was fine! He was living the life up in beautiful California. The fact was he had just stopped bothering to call. And to be quite honest, I don't know what result would have hurt most, but Sam being okay and just forgetting about us was a real heart breaker.
Unlike my sourpuss attitude, Dean is excited to seeing Sam again. Our father has been MIA for the past couple of weeks, which wasn't too strange until Dean got a voice mail from him a couple of days ago that had some weird EVP on it. It was Deans idea to get Sam in on the weird phone call, which is why we were on our way to the luxurious California, despite my protests to figuring this out on our own.
Dean parks the car in front of a tall white apartment complex a couple of blocks from Stanford's main campus. He shuts the engine off and looks at me, waiting for me to say something, considering I've been silent this entire ride besides the small bickering about the situation at hand.
"Would you stop acting like a whiny teenager and just accept the fact that Sam has the right to be included in this," Dean says. I scoff at him. I don't know who he's kidding. Sam doesn't want to be included in this! "It's his dad too!" Dean adds.
"Whatever," I drop my arms and run my fingers over the door handle. "We can go in there and do our thing, but it's all gonna be a waste of time because he's not gonna wanna come out with us. He chose this this—" I motion to the apartment complex, indicating a normal life "—over us." I open the door and hop out of the car. I wipe my palms over my light-washed ripped jeans and fix my black v-neck top.
"Come on, Allie, you can't hold a grudge against him forever," Dean sighs, following me to the building. Did we even know what room number was his?
I shake my head, "I'm not holding a grudge, Dean. I'm being realistic. You really shouldn't be getting your hopes up, you know."
Dean grabs me by my elbow to turn me around and gives me a stern look mixed with an expression of confusion. "We're about to see our brother that we haven't seen in four years. Isn't that enough for you to drop the attitude?" With one last glance in Dean's eyes I bite the inside of my cheek and stare down at my boots. Maybe he was right. I should make the most out of this situation.
I sigh in defeat, "Fine." Dean gives me final look. "I said fine, now let go of me," I shake away from his grip and walk forward with him right next to me. "Do we even know what apartment is his?"
Dean wiggles his eyebrows at me and motions towards a second story window. I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. Was he suggesting we break though the window instead of knocking on his door?
"No way," I hiss. This town was quiet for a Sunday night. "Let's just knock on the door."
"You need to use the buzzer to even get into the building. It's late and Sam will probably ignore us." Dean says. I lift my hands in exclamation. He basically just proved my point in one sentence. He sees this and rolls his eyes. "Shut up and give me your lock-picking kit."
"You're gonna make me lift you?" I give him an incredulous look. "You're like a hundred pounds heavier than me."
"Exactly," Dean says. "I'll lift you up once I get in. I can at least help lift myself up by the window sill." I look up and see the widow sill. Once he gets his hands on it, he will be able to help lift himself up. "Fine," I groan, tossing him the kit and holding my palms out for his foot.
Dean steps in and jumps, almost whacking me in the face with his boots. I grunt as I try keeping balance while holding his fat ass up. He takes hold of the ledge, picks the lock quickly, and lifts himself in. He pokes his head out and lifts his arms for me to take. I hold on to his hands and walk up the brick wall. Dean grabs my waist to help me fit through the window and we both fall the ground. Well if Sam wasn't awake yet...
I push Dean off of me and stand up, looking around. We are in his kitchen. The place is small but quaint. On his fridge are several pictures of Sam...definitely not 18 anymore...with a few of his buddies he met at college. He looks like a normal kid in these pictures.
My attention shifts when I hear a thump behind me, followed by groans and loud breathing. I twist in my spot to see Dean tangled on the floor with someone I'm assuming is Sam. I look for a light switch and flip it on.
"Dean? Allie?" Sam looks up at our older brother with big, surprised eyes. "You scared the crap out of me."
"That's 'cause you're out of practice," Dean laughs as he sits on Sam, pinning him to the floor. Sam sees this as a challenge and raises his right foot to flip them over. Now it was Sam pinning Dean to the floor. "Or not. Get off of me."
"What are you doing here?" Sam asks, brushing himself off. He was wearing a gray t shirt and plaid pajama pants. He looks so normal.
"Well, I was looking for a beer," Dean replies sarcastically.
Sam looks at me with a raised eyebrow as if to tell him the real answer as to why we were here. "We gotta talk," I say.
"Uh, the phone?" Sam suggests like that was the most logical way of contacting him.
I roll my eyes and open my mouth to respond, but Dean beats me to it. "If we called, would you have picked up?"
Before Sam could reply, a second light switches on. All three of our attention diverts to a beautiful woman about my age in scandalous pajamas—short boxer shorts and a tight t-shirt with the Smurfs on it—and curly long blonde hair. My mouth almost dropped in shock, thinking that Sam picked up a chick that looks like her.
"Sam?" She asks nervously. She glances at Dean and I, obviously not recognizing us. Does Sam not talk about us?
"Jess. Hey," Sam lets a smile pull on his lips. He walks towards her and wraps an arm around her waist. "Dean, Allie. This is my girlfriend, Jess."
Dean looks at Jess with a smirk on his face and nods his head as a hello.
Jess's eyes brighten up and a smile spreads across her face, "Wait, your brother and sister? Dean and Allie?"
Sam nods and Dean steps closer to the couple, pointing at her shirt. "Oh, I love the Smurfs." I scoff in disgust, and Jess crosses her arms self-consciously. Way to go Dean! "You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league."
"Just let me put something on," Jess nods, pointing behind her and into her and Sam's shared bedroom.
"No, no, no. I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously," Dean says.
I punch him in the arm and groan, "Knock it off."
Dean glares at me and fixes his jacket. "Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. But, uh, nice meeting you."
"No," Sam says, causing Dean and I to pause in our step. Was he already saying no to us before we could talk to him? "No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her."
I sigh, looking at Dean to see what his next move is going to be. He obviously couldn't bring up the family business. I guess Sam is still in denial that he had a past life with us and our unusual job.
"Okay," Dean says, looking Sam and Jess straight on. I shuffle on my feet awkwardly. Was he really going to say something? "Um. Dad hasn't been home in a few days."
Sam shrugs, "So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later."
Dean ducks his head, trying again, "Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days."
I watch as Sam's expression softens a bit. He hasn't told Jess, that's for sure. He doesn't say anything for a moment, causing Jess to look at him questioningly. "Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside."
Dean looks at me and gives me a told you so smile. I glare and walk behind Sam and Dean to the car after giving Jess a final wave. I like her and wish Sam had introduced us before. She seems to be really nice.
"I mean, come on. You can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you," Sam rants as we walk further away from Sam's apartment in case Jess was eavesdropping.
Dean shakes his head, "You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. I need you to help me find him."
"You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine."
Dean turns around causing Sam to stop in his tracks, which makes me bump into Sam's back. He looks over his shoulder at me for a half second. I raise my hands up in surrender and walk around him to stand next to Dean.
"Not for this long. Now are you gonna come with us or not?"
"I'm not," Sam shakes his head, stuffing his hands into his sweatshirt pocket.
"Why not?" Dean asks. I hear the tone of offense in his question. Now I should be the one to say I told you so.
"I swore I was done hunting. For good," Sam answers.
"Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad," Dean tries to persuade Sam that our life was just fine. Even I had to laugh at that one. He turns around to continue walking to the car.
"Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45. When Allie lost our room key when she was seven, he taught her out to pick the lock instead of just getting a new one." Sam points out. Okay, he had a point there, but now I can pick a lock the fastest out of all four of us—yeah I'm even faster than my dad!
"Well, what was he supposed to do?" Dean says.
"I was nine years old! He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark."
"Don't be afraid of the dark? Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there!"
"Yeah, I know, but still." Sam shrugs. "The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her." Sam pauses and we all take a moment of silence to think about Mom. "But we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find."
I nod and stuff my hands into my back jeans pocket. "Yeah, but we save a lot of people doing it."
"You think Mom would have wanted this for us?" Sam asks.
Obviously this is not what Mom would have wanted this for us. Dad would have never wanted this for us if our mom wasn't killed by a supernatural being that is still nowhere to be found.
Dean shakes his head and continues walking to the car, at this point, not even caring if Sam was still behind us or not.
Surprisingly, Sam does follow. He continues ranting about Dad's way of raising us. "The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors."
Dean opens the driver's side door of the impala and gets out his cell phone from the cup holder. "So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?"
"No. Not normal," Sam says. "Safe."
"And that's why you ran away," I shake my head, muttering under my breath.
"I was just going to college, Allie. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing."
"Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it." Dean says. Sam stays silent. "I can't do this alone."
"Hey," I say, slightly offended.
Dean rolls his eyes but corrects himself nonetheless. "We can't do this alone."
"Yes you can," Sam pushes. He really does not want to go.
Dean looks down at his shoes. "Yeah, well, I don't want to."
Sam looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to say that I want him to tag along as well. However, I don't say anything cause in all honesty, I don't know if I do want him coming. I don't want him coming if he is going to be a sour puss the entire time, but it would be nice to have the family all back together.
Apparently, I don't answer fast enough so Dean elbows me hard in my side. I wince and let an, "Ow," escape from my lips. "Y—yeah. I want you to come too." I grimace at myself. That sounded very unconvincing.
Sam sighs, looking behind him at his apartment as he contemplates what he is going to do next. Dean and I stand there, staring in anticipation. When Dean glances at me, I stick my tongue out at him for elbowing me.
"What was dad hunting?" Sam asks.
Dean smirks and opens up the trunk. At first, it looks like a normal trunk, but then he opens up the extra-tire compartment that is filled with all of our guns, rock salt, machetes, and other weapons we use. He props the compartment open with a shotgun and rummages through our things.
"All right, let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?"
"So when Dad left, why didn't you two go with him?" Sam asks out of curiosity.
"We were working our own job," I answer, waving my hand in dismissal, "Some voodoo thing down in New Orleans."
"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" Sam asks surprised.
Dean glances over his shoulder, "Dude. I'm twenty-six. And Allie was with me the entire time."
"Well," I say with a glare. "Not the entire time." One night, Dean never came back to the motel after he met some woman in the bar.
"Oh," Dean pauses and then smiles at the memory. "Yeah…"
"Pig," I whisper, looking away.
Dean pulls out a folder and hands some papers over to Sam, ignoring my jab. "All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy—" Dean hands Sam another paper of a guy about our age on a missing poster "—They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA."
"So maybe he was kidnapped," Sam shrugs. I want to laugh. Like it was only that easy.
"Yeah. Well, here's another one in April," Dean starts handing Sam a bunch of stories. "Another one in December 'oh-four, 'oh-three, 'ninety-eight, 'ninety-two, ten of them over the past twenty years."
Sam looks at all of them and raises his eyebrows, finally seeing a pattern. Dean takes back all his research from Sam and puts them back in the folder. "All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road." I add.
Dean pulls out another bag out of the compartment. "It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough." Dean holds out his tape recorder. "Then I get this voicemail yesterday."
Dean presses play and we listen to the message that Dean and I already have listened to about fifty times in the last twenty-four hours. "Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean and look out for your sister. We're all in danger."
Dean stops the recording and looks at Sam for his opinion. Sam glances up at us. "You know there's EVP on that?"
Dean smirks, "Not bad Sammy. Kind like riding a bike, isn't it?" Sam shakes his head. "All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got."
Dean presses the tape again and this time, a woman's voice comes up. "I can never go home…"
"Never go home," Sam says, looking up at us.
Dean nods his head, taking the recording back and shutting everything back in the trunk. He leans against it and crosses his arms over his chest. "You know, in almost two years we've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing."
Sam sighs, "All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him." My eyes go wide in shock. I never expected to actually get a yes out him. Dean nods like a happy camper. "But I have to get back first thing Monday." Sam looks back behind him. "Just wait here."
Sam turns around to go back into his apartment when Dean stops him. "What's first thing Monday?"
"I have this…" Sam hesitates. "I have an interview."
"What, a job interview? Skip it," Dean waves him off.
Sam sighs, "It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate."
"Law school?" Dean smirks.
"So we got a deal or not?" Sam asks. Dean and I glance at each other before reluctantly nodding our heads. We've got a deal.
Dean leans against the impala driver's side door and smirks down at me when Sam disappears into his apartment again.
I roll my eyes. "You heard him, Dean. He's only with us until Monday. After that, it's going to be radio silence all over again, and you're going to be the only one that's butt hurt about it."
"Butt hurt?" Dean laughs at my word.
"Butt hurt," I confirm, nodding my head.
"Oh, come on Shortstack," Dean says, knowing that using the nickname he and Sam gave me when I was fourteen after they both got their growth spurt always lightens my mood a little bit. It reminds me of when we were all together again and going to school was our hardest job. "You can't tell me you're not excited for the three of us to be hunting again."
"We're not hunting again. We're going on a hunt."
"Maybe your New Years resolution should be to be more optimistic," Dean says.
I give Dean a weird look, "Dude, it's March."
Dean waves me off, "Start early."
Sam walks back with a small duffel bag in his hand. "All right, let's do this." He says as he approaches us.
"Okay," Dean smiles. I walk over to the passenger side when Dean whistles at me. I give him a weird look. Then he motions to the back seat with his eyes.
"What? No!"
"You know the rules. You're the youngest." Dean argues.
"We're doing this again, really?" I step back. "He's older by 13 minutes! That doesn't even count!"
"Hey," Dean puts his hands up like it wasn't his fault I decided to pop out of my mother's womb a little later than Sam. "You snooze, you lose."
I glare at Dean the entire time I step back to take the back seat. He gives me an exaggerated smirk and hops in the front seat, turning up the music full blast to match his happy mood.
I stayed silent for almost the entire ride to Jericho. Dean would occasionally try and bring me into conversation and I would humor him and contribute my opinion or story to whatever it was we were bringing Sam up to date to. I didn't want to be overdramatic about whatever feelings I had towards Sam at the moment. So I figured by being quiet I was being civil. However, Dean was not a fan of the silence—for once in his life—and left Sam and I alone in the car at a gas station while he went to buy a bunch of junk food in the convenience store.
"So," Sam coughs after neither of us talk for the first minute. "Do you and Dean go on hunts without dad often?"
I nod, "Yeah. We have for a while now. Dad thinks he's been getting closer to finding whatever it is that killed Mom, but for some reason, he doesn't want Dean and I knowing much about it. He says he will tell us more when he's positive he knows what he's doing."
"Doesn't that bother you?" Sam asks, turning around in his seat to look at me directly. "The secrecy behind everything Dad does?"
"I'm sure whatever Dad is doing he is doing it for our safety," I say defensively. I sit up straighter in my seat and slightly glare. "See. That's your problem, Sam. You never trust Dad. You never did!"
"How could I? He never answered any of our questions directly. We couldn't even talk about Mom without a fight. We were his soldiers. Not his children," Sam says. I don't say anything. Instead, I stare out the window into the convenience store. Where the hell is Dean? "Have you even thought about trying college? Seeing what it's like to be normal?"
"No," I shake my head. "Because although it sucks being a freak who hunts ghosts and demons, we have a responsibility to people—to this family!"
"No, Allie. That's exactly it. This family is confusing responsibility with revenge."
I scoff and get out of the car, slamming the door behind me. I could feel the palms of my hands getting sweaty from the frustration. My heart feels like it is racing a hundred miles an hour.
I walk past Dean who gives me a questionable look. "Where are you going?"
"I need ice cream," I mumble and storm into the convenience store.
I take a moment to walk up and down the isles, trying to calm myself down. Then, I purchase my pint of chocolate ice cream and prepare myself to be faced with Sam again. Hopefully he doesn't bring anything up and Dean doesn't ask any questions.
Back at the car, Sam and Dean are talking while Dean pumps gas into the Impala.
"You and Dad still running credit card scams?" Sam asks, not realizing I was back yet. He glances behind his shoulder when he hears my footsteps but doesn't say anything. He's running his fingers over Dean's cassette tapes.
"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean says, removing the nozzle from the car and placing it back in it's holder. "Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards."
"Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?"
Dean walks around the car and gets back into the driver's seat. "Uh, Burt Aframian and his son Hector and Daughter Anne. Scored three cards out of the deal."
"That sounds about right." Sam says, pulling out one of Dean's cassettes. "I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection."
"Why?" Dean scrunches his nose like he just smelled something bad. I had to quietly giggle in the back seat. Dean did have to update his music.
Sam holds up some tapes. "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" Dean takes the cassette from Sam. "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock."
"Well, house rules, Sammy," Dean pops the cassette in. It was Metallica. "Al, remind Sam of the house rules."
I roll my eyes. Dean constantly has to remind me of the house rules. "Driver picks the music, shot gun shuts her cakehole." I barely mutter.
"That's right," Dean nods and smirks in the rearview mirror for me to see.
"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam says, shaking his head. "It's Sam, okay?"
Dean points to his ear, "Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud."
I smirk to myself from the backseat.
Somewhere during the ride, I fell asleep. When I wake up, Sam's on the phone with someone I obviously don't know while Dean silently drives.
When Sam hangs up the phone, he glances at Dean. "All right. So, there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue. So that's something I guess."
Dean glances at Sam but doesn't say anything. I sit up straight in the back seat and look out the front window. We are coming up on a bridge that seems to be closed off by a couple of police cars. Looks like we finally reached Jericho.
Dean pulls the car over and observes the scene in front of him. When he finally decides that this was our kind of thing, he moves to pull the fake IDs out of the glove compartment.
"Allie, you stay here. Sam and I will take this." Dean says.
"Oh, so first you demote me to the back seat and now you're not giving me my badge?"
Dean shrugs, "It would look suspicious if three of us went over there."
"So why doesn't Sam stay here?" I say like it's such an obvious suggestion.
"Because he looks older than you," Dean says, getting out of the car before this became a screaming match. "Let's go, Sammy."
I kick the back of his seat when he gets out of the car. I turn around and watch from the back window. I watch as Dean circles around the car that's being inspected by the police. He rounds back to Sam and says something to the cops, which obviously irritates Sam because he steps on Dean's foot for him to shut up. I roll my eyes. Typical Dean.
As they walk back to the car, Dean slaps Sam over the head.
"Ow! What was that for?" Sam says, rubbing the back of his head.
"Why'd you have to step on my foot?" Dean retorts.
"Why do you have to talk to police like that?"
Dean looks at Sam, before stepping in front of him. "Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves."
Thank god Dean left the windows open. It makes eavesdropping on this conversation a lot easier.
Behind Dean, three men with badges walk towards my older brothers. I duck my head before any of them could see me. A couple of minutes later, Sam and Dean are back in the car and we start driving into the heart of Jericho.
"So what did you find out?"
"Clean site. We're looking for the victim's girlfriend. Apparently she spends most of her time in town," Dean says, pulling into a parking spot in front of a diner. Outside, there is a girl posting "MISSING" posters all over the windows. "I'll bet you that's her."
"Yeah," I agree, hopping out of the car.
The three of us approach the woman. She was about my age with dark black hair and pale skin. She wore a lot of dark makeup and dark jewelry too. I wouldn't go too far and say she was goth, but she definitely had a style to her. I liked it.
"You must be Amy," Dean says.
"Yeah," She looks at my oldest brother suspiciously.
"Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles," Dean says. This has Sam and I crack a glance at him. "I'm Dean. This is Sammy. And Allie here is his cousin."
Amy looks at the three of us and shakes her head, "He never mentioned you to me." She walks away, but we follow her.
"Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto," Dean continues.
"So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around," Sam adds.
Another woman our age comes up to Amy and wraps an arm around her shoulder comfortingly. "Hey are you okay?" She asks.
"Yeah," Amy replies.
"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?" I ask.
Amy glances at Rachel and reluctantly nods her head. We walk into the diner and grab a booth by the window. Sam and Dean sit next to each other opposite of Amy and the other girl, whose name is Rachel. I pull up a chair from another table and sit on the side.
"I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did." Amy says.
Sam asks, "He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?"
Amy shakes her head, "No. Nothing I can remember?"
Sam nods and points to Amy's necklace. "I like your necklace."
I glance at her necklace. It was a pendant with a pentagram in a circle. She blushes and traces her finger over it.
"Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents with all that devil stuff," She laughs.
"Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing."
"Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries," I say sarcastically. I see Sam holding back an eye roll. I lean over and look at the girls. "Look. Something's not right…the way Troy disappeared. So if you've heard anything…"
I trail off when Amy and Rachel glance at each other nervously as if I just brought up a weird memory for the two of them. Dean notices too and asks, "What is it?"
"Well, it's just…I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk," Rachel explains.
"What do they talk about?" Sam and Dean say at the same time. I give them a weird look and shake my head, turning back to the women.
"It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago."
I glance at Sam and Dean who are watching Rachel attentively, nodding their heads as they listen.
Rachel continues, "Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."
Yahtzee!
With a lead, Sam, Dean and I drive to a public library to do some research on this hitchhiking woman. Dean takes the seat in front of the computer and types in "Female Murder Hitchhiking." When he presses enter, zero results come up. You know how hard it is to get absolutely zero results on the web? And somehow, Dean manages to do that with his first search. Then he replaces "Hitchhiking" with "Centennial Highway" and gets the same response. 0 for 2. This kid is on a roll!
"Let me try," Sam says after watching Dean struggle for long enough.
Dean smacks Sam's hand away. "I got it." He pokes his tongue out in concentration. Sam shoves Dean's rolling chair out of the way and moves his chair in front of the computer. "Dude!" Dean rolls his chair back and hits Sam in the shoulder. "You're such a control freak."
"It's like hanging out with twin teenager sisters," I shake my head and lean over Sam's chair.
Sam ignores both of us, "So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?"
"Yeah," I say slowly.
"Well, maybe it's not murder." Sam changes Dean's word murder to suicide. Unlike Dean, Sam's search gets multiple hits and he opens an article about a woman who jumped off the Centennial Bridge. That's the bridge we were on before. The article was about a 24 year-old woman named Constance Welch who's drowning was reported a suicide. She supposedly did that after finding her two young kids drowned in the bathtub after she stepped away. Her husband quotes, "The accident must have been too much for my wife."
"This was 1981," Sam says. "Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river."
"Does it say why she did it?" Dean asks.
"Yeah," Sam says shakily. "An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die."
Sam pulls up another picture of the bridge.
"Does that bridge look familiar to you?" I say, standing straight again. Sam and Dean nod. Sam prints out the article and we leave to go back to the bridge.
This time no one is at the bridge. It's almost midnight and the bridge is lit up with only one weak light. Dean parks the car and we walk along the bridge, stopping at the railing and looking down into the river where Constance supposedly drowned.
"So this where Constance took the swan dive," Dean says, looking down.
"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks.
Dean shrugs, "Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him."
Dean continues walk down the bridge. Sam and I follow.
"So now what?" I say. We are here, but there was nothing here for us to do. So what is our next move?
"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while—"
Sam stops walking and sighs, "Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—"
Dean turns around to look at Sam. Behind Sam, I give him a raised eyebrow look that tells him not to fight it because we knew this would happen. No matter how much it hurt.
"Monday. Right. The interview," Dean nods.
"Yeah," Sam nods slowly, waiting for Dean to make a scene.
"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?"
At first, I didn't think Dean was going to start anything, but I guess that's wishful thinking for you.
"Maybe," Sam says defensively. "Why not?"
I decide not to put in my input. Sam and I already had our fight for the day. "Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?"
Sam steps closer to Dean, "No, and she's not ever going to know."
"Well, that's healthy." Dean scoffs. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are."
Dean turns around and keeps walking. Sam picks up his pace, fuming at this point. I just stand there, silently screaming to myself for Dean to shut up.
"And who's that?" Sam challenges.
"You're one of us," Dean shrugs.
Sam steps in front of Dean, stopping him in his tracks.
"No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life."
"You have a responsibility to—"
"To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back."
I clench my teeth at Sam's last comment, but Dean beats me to the punch—almost literally—and pushes Sam against the railing of the bridge by his jacket collar. I flinch a little bit at Dean's force, but I know it was only used because of the tone Sam used when mentioning Mom.
My eyes flicker and catch something at the end of the bridge. At first I thought it was another cop and was just about to curse how screwed we were, but when I look more closely I see that it's a woman wearing a white dress. When I narrow my eyes, I see that it's the woman from the article that died over twenty years ago.
"Guys," I say without taking my eyes off of Constance who weirdly doesn't take her eyes off of me either.
"Don't talk about her like that," Dean warns.
"Guys!" I say loudly. Sam and Dean look at me like I had grown two heads. When I point to Constance standing on the ledge of the bridge a couple feet away, they straighten up, and Dean lets go of Sam.
Constance looks at my brothers and steps off the ledge without taking her eyes off of us. We sprint towards her and look over the ledge where she jumped, but she was nowhere to be found.
"Where'd she go?" Dean asks.
"I don't know," I say.
Bright lights flash behind us. We turn around to see Dean's car turned on, the engine revving, and the high beams on. I squint under the lights.
"What the—" Dean mumbles.
"Who's driving your car?" Sam asks.
Dean answers by pulling out his keys from his leather jacket and jingles them. The car tires squeal and it zooms towards us.
"Go! Go!" Sam screams at us.
The car is moving faster than we can run. Sam grabs my hand to help me keep up with his and Dean's long legs. At that moment I felt grateful for Sam. We're left with no choice but to jump over the bridge.
Sam and I have the same idea to grab the edge of the bridge. I felt a hard tug on my shoulder that makes me weak enough to have my hand rip away from the ledge. However, Sam was quick enough to grab my waist so that I had the chance to grab back on. This time I was able to hold myself up, but my shoulder hurt like a bitch and I wasn't going to last long.
"I'm going to climb up first and then help you up, okay?" Sam says, already lifting himself up. "I think you may have popped your shoulder out."
I blink away the tears that start to form from the pain. I glance around Sam and then to my right. Dean was nowhere.
"Where's Dean?" I huff.
Sam climbs over the edge and reaches for my hand. I quickly grab it with my good arm and he helps me up.
"Dean? Dean!" Sam calls out as soon as I land two feet back on the bridge.
We both lean over to look for our brother in the water below. Dean is pulling himself out of the water and he is covered head to toe in mud. Completely brown-black. He looks up when he hears Sam. "What?" Yeah, he did not look happy at all.
"Are you all right?" I call down.
Dean holds up his fingers for an A-OK sign. "I'm super!"
Sam and I turn around while Dean wraps himself around the bridge to come back to us. We walk to the impala and check the car out, but for the most part it seems to be in tip-top shape—just the way Dean left it.
Sam turns to look at me, "All right, you're gonna have to let me look at that shoulder." I sigh. I know he's going to have to pop it back in place, and it's going to hurt like a bitch. I turn my back to him and he feels around on my shoulder blade. I hear him hum in confirmation. I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing for the pain. Sam places one hand on my shoulder and another one on my shoulder blade. "Ready?" I nod, taking a deep breath. "Okay. One—" Sam yanks me backwards, popping my shoulder into place.
"Agh!" I scream. I bite my bottom lip from cursing like a sailor, bending over and letting out a loud breath. "Son of a…"
"What happened?" Dean jogs over to me and places a hand on my back.
I'm about to explain what happened, but then I smell him…and he reeks. I scrunch my nose and step away from his muddy hand. At first Dean looks hurt, but then when he sees the look of disgust on my face, he realizes that I'm stepping away from his odor, not him personally.
"Sam had to pop my shoulder back into place," I explain. Dean nods and walks around his car, inspecting it a lot more closely than Sam and I did.
"Your car all right?" Sam asks.
"Yeah whatever she did to it, seems all right now," Dean shuts the trunk and leans against it. He raises his voice. "That Constance chick, what a bitch!"
"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure. So where's the job go from here, genius?" Sam says.
Sam takes a seat next to Dean on the trunk. I don't know why he would do that. Dean smells like shit! Dean throws up his hands in frustration and flicks some dry mud off of his hand.
Sam must finally smell Dean's odor because his nose scrunches up in disgust. "You smell like a toilet."
Dean drives us to the nearest motel and slaps his Hector Aframian credit card on the front desk. "One room please."
That's another thing about this trip. Was Dean really planning on sharing one room between the three of us? The best a motel will give us in one room is two beds and neither Sam nor Dean are going to want to share with me or each other.
The clerk picks up Dean's card and looks at it funny. "You guys having a reunion?"
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month."
Burt. That was the name on my dad's credit card. I step closer to the clerk. "What room number?"
My brothers and I rush to room 108. Dean bangs on the door like a mad man, hoping that Dad would be on the other side, but of course no one answers. "Allie, pick the lock." Dean demands.
I scoot past Sam and kneel down in front of the door knob. "Would it kill you say to please?"
"Allie," Dean says sternly.
I shake my head and roll my eyes. The door is open in less than 30 seconds and my brothers stampede into the room, basically knocking me over in the process.
I stuff my lock picking kit in my back pocket and walk into the musty motel room. I cough at the dust clouding in the room. Every wall and every door is covered in pictures, articles, newspaper clippings, and maps. The floor is littered with junk, books, and rotten food. The bed is unmade. And the room is outlined in rock salt.
"Whoa," Sam whistles.
"Yeah, whoa." I agree.
Dean turns on a light on the bedside table and picks up a half-eaten hamburger. Gross. Then Dean feels the need to sniff the burger!
"I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least," Dean says.
"It took smelling a green-looking burger to tell you that?" I tilt my head. I don't know how we are related?
Sam fingers the salt on the floor and looks up. "Salt, cats-eye shells...he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in." Sam sees me looking at the pictures on the wall and moves to stand next to me. "What have you got here?"
"Centennial Highway victims," I respond. There were about five male victims ranging from 1987 to now. I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"
Sam turns around and turns on another lamp. "Dad figured it out."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"He found the same article we did," Sam holds up an article. "Constance Welch. She's a woman in white."
I grimace. A woman in white targets cheating men. Dean looks at the pictures of the victims again and smirks, "You sly dogs."
I roll my eyes. "All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it."
"She might have another weakness," Sam suggests. He taps the picture of Constance's husband Joseph Welch. "If he's still alive."
"All right. Why don't you, uh, see if you can find an address, I'm gonna get cleaned up," Dean says.
"Thank god," I say to myself. Dean turns around, picks up the moly burger and chucks it my way. I let out a small chirp and duck out of the way. It hits the wall behind me.
"Hey, Dean?" Sam turns around to face him. "What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry."
I look at Dean expectantly. I felt good with Sam's apology, especially because I didn't think we were going to hear one in the first place.
Dean holds up his hand, "No chick-flick moments." And in Dean's language, that means it's okay.
Sam laughs, nodding. "All right. Jerk."
Dean smirks at the long lost joke the two of them had growing up. "Bitch." He replies.
"Idiots," I roll my eyes.
Dean shuts the bathroom door behind him and Sam continues to read over Dad's research. My eyes land on a worn out photograph that was hidden under Dad's pillow. I pick it up and feel tears pricking my eyes.
The picture is of my brothers, me, and dad sitting on the hood of the Impala. Dean's about eight, wearing a baseball cap and a smile on his face. In front of him is Sam whose hair was growing past his ears. He was due for a haircut. In Dad's lap was me. His little girl. My arms are wrapped around his neck. His hands are curled near my stomach, caught in the act of tickling me. I'm laughing hysterically and my happiness is contagious to him. We look so normal in this picture. Like your average family. The memory warms me and makes me think of all the happy memories this family has, and not the bad.
About ten minutes later, Sam checks his voicemail and my stomach growls. I bang against the bathroom door. "Dean!"
The door whips open very fast. Dean is drying down his hair with a towel, newly dressed in a tight black v-neck and jeans.
"What?" He looks at me unamused.
"I'm hungry."
Dean rolls his eyes and walks past me. "It's like living with a five-year-old." I roll my eyes. "Sam you want anything?"
"No, I'm okay." He replies.
"Aframian's buying," I smirk, shrugging my jacket back on.
"No, I'm okay. Thanks," Sam insists.
Dean and I shrug. His loss. We walk down the sidewalk to where Dean parked the car when two police officers walk towards us. Dean was the one who spots them first and pushes me into large bushes.
"Dude!" I hiss but get the memo to stay hidden so I bury myself deeper under the shrubs. I silently pray that he doesn't say anything stupid.
Dean takes out his phone and is no doubt calling Sam. "Dude, five-oh, take off… Uh, they kinda spotted me. Allie? I think she's in the clear…yeah, but she has her own issues with the fuzz." I bite the inside of my cheek and look down shamefully. Sam probably thought I would be okay since I didn't fake my identity this time. Whoops.
Dean turns to look at the cops, "Problem officers?"
"Where's your partner?" One of them asks.
"Partner?" Dean plays dumb. "What partner?"
"So. Fake US Marshal. Fake credit cards. You got anything that's real?"
Dean takes a second to answer. Please don't say something stupid. Please don't say something stupid, I think. But unfortunately, "My boobs," is how he replies.
That is enough for the officer to slam Dean down on the hood of one of their cars and handcuff him behind his back. When they're out of sight, I run back into the motel room to Sam.
Dean's POV:
The police haul me into an interrogation room and leave me here for about an hour until Sheriff Pierce decides to talk to me. He walks into the room with a small box in his hand, and the scowl on his face tells me he's not willing to play any games.
"So you want to give us your real name?" He asks me.
"I told you, it's Nugent. Ted Nugent." I say with an eye roll.
The Sheriff places his hands on the table and leans in, "I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in here."
"We talkin', like, misdemeanor kind of trouble or, uh, squeal like a pig trouble?"
"You got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall," He states. The mention of my dad's room has me turn my head. I hope Sam and Allie got out in time. "Along with a whole lot of satanic mumbo-jumbo. Boy, you are officially a suspect."
"That makes sense," I glare. "Because when the first one went missing in '82 I was three."
"I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me. Dean." My head whips up when he says my name. How the hell did he know that? "This his?" He tosses a leather-covered journal on the table. It was my dad's. The Sheriff continues to flip through the journal and I feel my rage start to bubble under my skin. "I thought that might be your name. See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out—I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy. But I found this too." He opens up a specific page in the journal and shows it to me. It was my name next to a bunch of numbers in a big circle. "Dean 35-111. Now. You're stayin' right here till you tell me exactly what the hell that means."
Allie's POV:
Sam and I drove to Joseph Welch's run-down place. He was outside doing yard work. He was an older man, looked like a farmer, and wore overalls and plaid. We questioned him about Constance, acting like journalists. I liked working with Sam again. It reminded me of when we were young and we split off into teams of two. Sam and I were always paired together while Dean went with Dad.
Joseph didn't really say anything that surprised Sam and I. He got defensive when Sam brought up the legend of the woman in white, implying that Joseph at one point in his life cheated on his wife. His defense proved he was guilty. However he did mention Dad being here and asking him the same questions we were. That gave us some reassurance that we were on the right track.
When we walked back to the car, Sam started to pester me about Dean being in jail, freaking out about how we were gonna get him out.
I hold up my pointer finger in the middle of his rant, which makes him stop talking and looks at me funny. I take out my phone and dial 911, "I just heard gunshots! Im at Whiteford Road. Please hurry!" I clap my phone shut before they can ask me my name.
"Why would you do that?" Sam basically shouts at me. He quickly tucks his seat belt in and speeds off before the cops can show.
"Like you said, we had to get Dean out of there. I just gave him an open door." I shrug.
A couple of minutes later, my phone lights up with an unknown number. Despite Sam's protests I answer it anyway.
"Fake 911 phone call? I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that was not Sam's doing."
I smile into the phone, "You're welcome big brother." I say. This catches Sam's attention. "Hold on, I'm going to put you on speaker."
"Listen, we gotta talk," Dean says.
"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop," Sam says, "I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet."
"Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you," Dean says. Sam and I glance at each other with furrowed eyebrows. "He's gone. Dad left Jericho."
"What?" I lean into the phone. "How do you know?"
"I've got his journal," Dean answers.
"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing."
"Yeah, well, he did this time."
"What's it say?" Sam asks.
"Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going," Dean says. I hear him flipping through the pages from the other side.
"Coordinates," Sam nods. "Where to?"
"I'm not sure yet," Dean says.
"I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?"
I shake my head, not really sure how to respond. Out of the corner of my eye I see something in the middle of the street and Sam is about to hit it straight on.
"Sam!" I scream.
Sam looks up and slams on his brakes. My phone slides furiously to the floor. In front of us is the same ghost we saw on the bridge. She disappears when the car comes to a full stop. We're breathing hard.
"Take me home," Constance says from the back seat. Our heads whip around to look behind us. Our eyes are wide with shock. She's staring directly at Sam. Damn this girl was creepy. Sam doesn't reply at first. "Take me home!" She says again.
"No," Sam says sternly. I see it in his eyes that he has a plan.
Constance glares at him and then the locks on the doors all click themselves shut. I swallow my nervousness and look at my brother, hoping that whatever plan he was thinking about going with was going to keep us alive. The car starts moving forward again and the small gaped mouth Sam wears tells me he isn't the one driving. Sam and I struggle to open the doors the entire ride, but these puppies were not letting up.
She drives us to an old house that looks like it hasn't been lived in for decades. The car stops in front of the old wooden building. The engine turns off and the interior lights turn off. Behind us, Constance looks at the house with such sorrow.
"Don't do this," Sam says.
"I can never go home," Constance says sadly. I look one more time at the house. This is where she lived. This is where her kids died.
"You're scared to go home," Sam says, realizing it too.
Suddenly, my passenger door opens and I'm pushed out of my seat so forcefully by absolutely nothing. I land on my side a couple of feet away from the car. When I look up, Constance is in Sam's lap, kissing him as Sam struggles to get her off.
I quickly pull myself off the ground and wipe away the dirt that now stains my clothing. I hear another pair of footsteps coming and see Dean running towards us with a shot gun. Where he got that I'll never know.
"Dean! He's with Constance!" I yell at him and point to the impala when he sees me.
Dean nods, screaming his name. "Sam!" Dean stands by the driver side window and shoots at it. I jump at the loud sound and run towards him. A second later, he shoots again.
The car fires up again and rushes towards the house. I flinch as it drives through the house, fearing that Sam was hurt from the impact.
Dean and I sprint to the car. We climb over the wreckage Sam had just created and stumble to get to him. I open the front door for Sam and try helping him out.
"Sam! Sam! You okay?" Dean calls behind me. He has his gun pointed in case Constance comes.
"I think…"
"Can you move?" I ask him, grabbing one of his arms.
"Yeah," Sam says, letting me help him.
Constance reappears again, but this time she does not attack. She holds up a fallen picture frame and looks at it sullenly. When she hears the impala door shut, she looks at us with a mad glare on her face.
"Oh shit," I can't help but curse. I look at Dean whose jaw twitches when he clenches his teeth.
A large bureau races towards us, pinning the three of us against the car. Of course I'm in the middle of these two giants, squished. I groan as I feel the wood press against my stomach.
Above us, the lights flicker. Constance looks around, scared, which scares me cause obviously she's not the one flickering the lights so who else could it be? Water pours down like a waterfall from the staircase on the other side of the room. Constance walks towards it. At the top of the stairs are a small boy and girl, holding hands.
"You've come home to us, Mommy," They say in unison. That was creepy.
Constance looks at them with such distraught. They appear behind her and embrace her in a hug. She screams under their touch, and her ghostly appearance flickers like the lights. She and her children start melting into the water. My eyes widen as I watch. I have never seen anything like this before. Soon, they're gone.
Sam and Dean push the bureau away and it falls with a thud by our feet. I place a hand over my stomach and rub it soothingly. There was probably going to be a bruise there in the morning.
"So this is where she drowned her kids," Dean says, looking around at the water.
Sam nods, "That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them."
"You found her weak spot," Dean nods, "Nice work, Sammy." He slaps Sam on the chest and walks towards his car.
Sam laughs lightly, "Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"
"Hey. Saved your ass," Dean points, leaning over to look at the car. "I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car—" Dean twists around to look at us. "I'll kill you."
Sam and I laugh and roll our eyes playfully. After Dean does his full inspection, we drive away.
I was stuck in the backseat once again. I tried resting on the way back to Stanford, trying not to think of leaving Sam again. Another reason why I didn't want to get Sam in the first place was because I knew I was going to miss him again when he left. It's going to hurt like a bitch saying bye after we just had a good hunt together.
In the front seat, Sam is glancing from Dad's journal to a large map, trying to pinpoint where Dad wanted us—Dean and I—to go next. He looks like he is struggling trying to hold the map, a flashlight, and a ruler at the same time, so I take the flashlight from under his chin and shoulder and hold it for him.
Sam nods at me, "Thanks." Sam holds the map out in front of him. He has a small circle drawn in the state of Colorado. "Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."
"Sounds charming," I say sarcastically.
"How far?" Dean asks.
"About six hundred miles," Sam answers.
Dean grins, "Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning."
I bite my lip and look down sadly. I knew Dean knew Sam had to get home. We were just both hoping Sam would want to change his mind.
"Dean, I, um…" Sam hesitates on his words. At least now he feels bad for leaving us again.
"You're not going," Dean nods, refusing to take his eyes off the road.
"The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there," Sam says.
"Yeah," Dean nods his head disappointedly. I sink back in my seat and look out my own window. Just like I thought, my heart was cracking at the thought of leaving Sam back in California as Dean and I take off to Colorado. "I'll take you home."
A couple of hours, we pull up to Sam's apartment complex. Sam nods his head and says bye to both of us. Dean nods his head for a goodbye. I don't say anything but climb up to the front seat.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Dean yells at me. "You're going to scuff the seats." I buckle myself in and give him a look that says I am so not in the mood. He takes note of that and looks back at Sam who is leaning over the open window. Sam glances at me sadly as I refuse to make eye contact with him. I pick at my fingernails.
"Call me if you find him," Sam says. Dean nods at him. "And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?"
"Yeah, all right," Dean says.
Sam nods again. "Bye Allie."
"Bye," I grumble under my breath it was barely audible. I know I'm acting childish, but this is how I deal with my issues.
Sam pats the door twice and turns away. I finally turn my head to watch him walk away. I watch as his body gets smaller and smaller until he disappears into his building.
Dean sighs and pats my knee comfortingly. He pulls the car into drive and we leave Sam's place. I look out the window again so I don't have to look at Dean.
"You were right," Dean says. I don't acknowledge him, which he finds incredibly weird because any chance I have to prove Dean wrong, I will. "What? You're not going to rub it in my face? Tell me I told you so." Again, I don't say anything. "I'm sorry Shortstack for putting you through that again, but you have to admit it was nice seeing him for as long as we did."
I sniffle my tears back and push my hair behind my ears. I finally nod my head. Yeah, I guess it was nice having him back for a little bit.
The radio that is softly playing music starts to static and I get this weird sinking feeling in my stomach. Dean looks at the radio with complexity and my eyes go wide.
"Dean, turn around." I demand.
Dean gets the same idea and skirts the car into a tight U turn and we speed at least fifty miles over the speed limit to Sam's apartment. When we get there, his apartment building is up in flames.
I'm out of my seat first and I sprint to Sam's room with Dean screaming my name in the back. I had no plan, but to get to Sam before it was too late.
The smoke is coming from Sam's bedroom. I bang on the door, but it's locked. I scream his name, hoping to hear him call back to me. Dean tells me to move and kicks the door down. Sam is laying on his bed, looking up and screaming and crying. On the ceiling, Jess is pinned with blood spurting from her stomach. This was how my mother died.
"Oh my god," I say without even thinking.
"Sam! Sam!" Dean grabs our brother and tries dragging him away.
"No! No!" Sam shouts.
Dean is finally able to push Sam out the door. "Allie, let's go!"
"Jess! Jess! No!" Sam calls out in front of me, bringing me out of my trance. I rip my eyes away from Jess and follow after them.
When we get outside, the police and fire trucks are already here. Dean talks to the cops and firemen, explaining "what happened."
Sam is standing at the impala's open trunk. I don't say anything because I don't know what to say. I was never really good at the whole comforting thing. Sam picks up one of the shot guns and looks at it. His face is tight with anger, the tears already gone.
Dean walks back to us and looks at Sam and the shotgun. Sam looks up and tosses the shot gun in the trunk.
"We got work to do," Sam says, shutting the trunk.
Dean nods his head and motions for us to get in the car. I am grateful that Sam is back with us, hunting again. But what did this mean? Jess dying the exact same way mom did? Was she killed by the exact same thing? Was it meant for Sam? Suddenly, I become nauseous.