Title: Possession
Rating: PG-13 (Language, mild violence, reference to sexual conduct)
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester, Kara Bowen (OFC)
Pairings: Dean/Kara, Sam/Kara
Verse: Hell and High Water
Genre: Het
Spoilers: One detail from Home onward
Summary: Sam, Dean and Dean's "friend" Kara expect to spend a relaxing time in a fancy hotel. They don't expect to come face to face with a deadly possession.
Disclaimer: Sam, Dean and the series ideas belong to WB et all. Kara, the other characters and the story idea belong to me. I have no idea if Winton, Missouri or any of the names for characters really exist. This is a work of fiction created for the purpose of free entertainment. I make no monetary gains from this work, nor is it meant as any means to make a profit. Feedback is welcomed.

Kara sat in the front seat of the Impala leaning against Dean's shoulder. Sam was draped lazily across the back seat. The three talked casually as the lonely countryside drifted by the windows. Suddenly, Kara sat up, "Take that exit!" They had just passed a sign Winton 38. "I heard there's a haunted hotel there. We'll need to stop for the night anyway."

"No." Dean answered, "We'll stop someplace later."

She put on her best pout, "Please. It's supposed to be really nice and I'll pay for it."

"Come on Dean." Sam said sitting up "We don't have much cash left anyway."

Dean looked at Sam in the mirror then turned to Kara, who was pouting and batting her eyes, "Fine." he grumbled. He hated when she pulled that crap on him. Sam leaned back as a smile spread across his face. He was going to spend the night in a nice hotel again. It had been such a long time and he was really looking forward to a good hot shower and a big soft bed.

A half hour later, they pulled into a small town. The street was lined with turn of the century buildings and small storefronts. The town was classic Americana. It screamed Norman Rockwell. Sam and Kara smiled as they took in the sights. Dean rolled his eyes. This wasn't his kind of place. It was too "apple pie". Minutes later, they found their destination, a large building with four stories, a grand front entrance and the date 1884 carved just below the roof line. The building sat across the street from the old train depot, which had been turned into what looked like a museum, Kara noted. Dean led the way into the hotel. He'd had just about enough of her by now. This trip was the most time he'd ever spent with her at once and it was beginning to get on his nerves. If she hadn't been paying for his good night's sleep, he probably would have just left her there.

"Wow." Sam echoed the look on Kara's face, "This is some place. They've really captured the Nineteenth Century opulence."

Dean smacked him on the shoulder, "Why thank you Professor Jones." and headed for the front desk. He rang the bell and an attractive blonde stepped out of the office.

"Welcome to the 1884. How may I help you?" she said with a smile. Dean's eyes lit up and he opened his mouth to speak, but Kara cut him off.

"We'd like two rooms please." she smiled, giving Dean's shin a swift kick.

The blonde's face sank, "Oh, I'm sorry ma'am we're booked with a wedding. We have a double left if you'd like to share?"

"Uh...no. Thanks." Sam interjected. He had no desire to hear whatever Dean and Kara might get up to.

"That's too bad." Kara sighed as a middle aged man appeared behind the desk. "I was really looking forward to this. I've heard the hotel is..." she lowered her voice as a couple crossed the lobby, "haunted."

The blonde looked shaken, but the man stepped forward, "Well, yes I have heard those stories myself." He held out his hand, "Martin Schultz, owner. Are you interested in ghosts?"

"Interested?" Kara smiled coyly, "Why yes I am. They fascinate me." Sam watched her. It was amazing to see her work a person. Kara was so much better at it than Dean. His older brother did quite well when it was a woman, but men were not his territory. He tended to annoy them or make them angry. Kara worked them all. She knew just what to say and how to say it, to make almost anyone tell her anything. After a hushed conversation and a few reassuring touches of Martin's arm, Kara had secured them a suite and the task of ridding the hotel of its ghost.

That night, they enjoyed the perks of their "job". Room service, the whirlpool tub, the bar, and a baby grand piano that came to life under Kara's fingers. The soft strains of Moonlight Sonata drifted through the suit and even Dean was lulled by it. He was so enthralled, that he turned off the TV and pulled a chair over beside the piano. When she finished playing, she sighed contentedly. "Bravo." Sam called from the table where he sat nibbling on what was left of dinner and researching the hotel. "That was beautiful."

"I never knew you could play like that." Dean said, lifting his head from its resting place on his folded arms.

Kara grinned, "I usually don't. I make a lot of mistakes, but I just felt inspired."

"Hey guys. Listen to this." Sam said over the laptop. "Developer takes chance, saves local landmark." He continued as the other two joined him. "Martin Schultz, a St. Louis developer, has bought the old Grundy Warehouse on Depot Street across from the Winton Historical Society Museum. Mr. Schultz says he plans to restore the building to its original use as a luxury hotel with a bar, restaurant and ballroom. 'The extensive renovations could take years,' noted Mr. Schultz 'but we will employ a good many local residents in the process,'"

"Sounds like a great guy." Kara said, leaning her elbows on the table.

"Warehouse." Dean commented, "The haunting could be from an accident."

"But it was originally a hotel. Something could have happened then." Kara added.

Sam continued to read, "The hotel closed its doors during the depression. The building was gutted by fire in 1932 and sat vacant until it was reopened as a warehouse in 1956. Workers at that time refused to use the top floor, complaining of uneasy feelings. Mr. Schultz, on the other hand, refutes these rumors, saying 'I've been to the top floor many times with no problem. It is, in fact, where I plan to build my own suite and live after the renovation."

Kara looked thoughtful, "I'm fine. Sam? You feel anything?"

"Just tired." he said rubbing his eyes, "I'm going to bed. We've got a lot of work to do tomorrow." He gave his brother a questioning look.

Dean smiled and answered "I'll uh...keep Kara company." Sam nodded and went off to the second bedroom.

"I'm kinda tired too." Kara smiled as she stood up and pulled Dean towards the Master bedroom. He didn't resist.

The next morning Kara was up early. She hadn't been able to sleep. Each time she drifted off, the dream would come. The woman with the long brown hair, looking out the window. Kara walked over to her to ask who she was, but the woman stood still. As Kara came up behind her, she would disappear. Then she heard voices behind her. She couldn't make out the words but it sounded like an argument. When she turned around, the bed was soaked in blood that dripped into a large puddle on the floor. As she took in the sight, she heard a scream and started awake. She tried to go back to sleep. The first time, she nudged Dean, who woke slightly and rolled onto his side wrapping his arms around her. They were used to it. For whatever reason, his embrace had always been able to block the visions that crept into her dreams. This time it wasn't working. As she sat on the couch she counted it lucky that she hadn't kept Dean up all night.

Dean awoke to the smell of coffee. Reaching out, he found her side of the bed empty and cold. He got up, pulled on his jeans and threw on his t-shirt as he walked out of the room. She was sitting on the couch staring into her coffee cup. He whispered her name as he came closer being careful not to startle her. He took the cup from her hands and set it on the table, then pulled her close, "Did you see our ghost?" She didn't answer. She just snuggled close to him hoping the bloody image would leave her mind. After awhile, Sam emerged running his fingers through his shaggy curls. "How'd you sleep?" he asked the room at large.

"Good." Dean said watching his brother flop into a chair, "Kara didn't."

Sam rubbed at his eyes, "I know. I heard her playing the piano at 3:30."

At this statement Kara shifted and caught Sam's gaze, "I didn't play the piano. I never left the bed."

"Well," Dean said stroking Kara's hair, "I think we've had our first encounter."

The trio had breakfast in the dining room with Mr. Schultz, prying every bit of information they could out of him. Unfortunately, it wasn't much, but he did give them names of employees that experienced things. They turned out to be more helpful. By the end of the afternoon, they had learned that there were at least two spirits, one male, one female. The female had been known to play Moonlight Sonata on the pianos in the hotel, both in the suite and in the restaurant. Witnesses knew it was a woman by the scent of lavender perfume that hung in the air. The male was preceded by the smell of pipe tobacco. Female employees had often felt watched by a pair of unseen eyes.

They were finally directed to a Mrs. Sarah Louise Franklin, an elderly woman who had worked as a bookkeeper at the Grundy Warehouse. Mrs. Franklin explained her encounters in the building and gave them the one lead they'd been looking for. Once, an older man, working at the warehouse, had spread around a story. Back in the late twenties, there had been a murder on the top floor. The other employees laughed it off at the time. No one wanted to be known as believing in ghosts, but everyone was wary of the top floor.

That night, as they sat in their suite, things began to become stranger. Dean announced that he was going down to the bar to get a beer and talk to some of the night employees. Sam and Kara were left alone in the suite. Soon, Kara got the feeling she was being watched. Thinking it could be one of the ghosts, she concentrated on the feeling. Finally, failing to locate a source, she looked up and caught Sam looking at her. He smiled and she thought she saw a hint of color creep into his cheeks. She returned the smile and went back to her magazine. A fluttering rose in her chest as she again caught him staring from the corner of her eye. "Is my hair sticking up funny?" she asked with a smile, after catching his gaze once again.

That sweet smile crossed his face, "Oh no. Sorry. I was uh…" he sighed "I just never noticed how beautiful you are." She giggled and felt the color rising now in her cheeks. Looking down at her magazine, she heard the lap top close and his footsteps drew closer as he came over to the couch. She turned, putting her feet on the floor, so he had room to sit down. The closer he got, the stranger she felt. This wasn't like her. She didn't turn into Jell-o at a flattering line and the feelings growing in her stomach were rather surprising, if not quite entirely unwanted. Sam continued to talk, but her racing mind drowned him out. She felt his palm brush her cheek. He was getting closer.

Her brain was getting foggy. The feelings in her chest and stomach were taking over. His lips were soft and warm. His touch gentle. In a moment she was lost in it. Nothing mattered anymore. No thoughts ran through her head. Her body was running on autopilot. She wasn't in control anymore. She heard the sound of the suite door opening, "Shit! Dean's back! Stop! Stop!" she thought, but her body wasn't responding. It was Sam that pulled away.

"Hey, Sam. Did you get anything on that murder in the twenties? The bartender said he thought he saw a flapper in the bar one night." Dean said as he turned the corner into the suite's living room. His brow wrinkled when he saw the two of them on the couch. He couldn't understand why, but he had the nagging feeling that he had just interrupted something important.

As if reading his mind, Kara jumped up, "We were just talking about Mrs. Franklin's story. Sam thought he might have been searching for the wrong things." She made her way to Dean and kissed him on the cheek, "I'm going off to bed." she yawned.

"I'll be in later. I have some details I want to discuss with Sam." he smiled catching her gaze. She turned away quickly, but he thought he saw a look of guilt in her eyes. He felt her unease, but wrote it off as just the thought of having that dream again. He got the same nervous feeling from his brother as they talked. He was growing more and more suspicious as the hours ticked by. It was late when he finally headed into the bedroom. Sam had gone off to bed over two hours earlier, leaving Dean to stew in the irrational emotions that were creeping into him. The light from the nearly full moon cut across the bed, illuminating Kara's twisted face. She was dreaming again. A powerful need for her rolled over him. The concept wasn't an alien one, but it was odd somehow. Never being one to shy away from carnal instincts, he woke her with a passionate kiss. Not a word was spoken between them. They simply knew each other too well.

In the morning, Kara slipped out of Dean's grip and headed down to the town archives. She stopped at a café for breakfast on the way and talked to the regulars about the stories of the old hotel. By the time she'd finished eating, she had enough leads to do a good search and knew more versions of the story then she ever wanted to. One woman had mentioned that her grandfather had told her about another murder at the hotel around the turn of the century, but this was quickly refuted by many of the people involved in the discussion. The woman sitting next to her even commented, under her breath, that the old man was a well known liar. Kara excused herself before she could be drawn into lunch and continued her research trip. The middle aged woman at the archives was glad for the company, but had no further information for her. At around 3 pm, Kara decided to head back. She was hungry and had already found the crime she had been looking for. She was excited to tell Sam and Dean what she had found.

Back at the hotel, they ordered an early dinner and sat around the dining table in the suite going over Kara's finds. She gave them the full report, "In 1927 George Kenly and his brother Robert came to town and took up residence at the hotel. They met a young woman named Eileen. She was a prostitute who frequently used the hotel for business. George fell in love with her and wanted to marry her, but she'd fallen for his younger brother. George discovered her with Robert and they argued. When Eileen tried to break up the fight, George shot her in the chest. He and Robert struggled for the gun and Robert was shot in the head. Seeing what he'd done, he began to repeat 'I'm sorry.' over and over. Then George put the gun to his head and blew his brains out. Eileen wasn't dead yet. She was lying on the bed bleeding to death. The first people to arrive at the scene heard her say that George had done it, and she repeated his apology before she lost consciousness and died."

"Perfect candidates for the haunting." Sam said, leaning back in his chair.

"Did you happen to find out where they're buried?" Dean asked.

Kara sighed, "Nope. The brothers weren't locals and I doubt any church wanted Eileen. No one claimed the bodies, so I'd try the municipal first."

"Great." Dean grumbled, "I'm in for a long night." He stood up and headed for the door.

Sam rose to follow, "I'll help."

Dean glared at his little brother, "One person prowling a graveyard at night is suspicious. Two is asking for trouble." He put on his coat and left the suite.

Kara moved to sit beside Sam, "Let's see if we can find anything else on the Kenly murder." Sam was uneasy with her close proximity, but he smiled and opened the laptop. As the time went by, the strange feelings of the night before began to resurface. Kara got warmer and her mind drifted to that kiss. She didn't even realize what was happening. She brushed his arm as she leaned closer to read the screen. He turned to look at her. Their eyes met and the fog rolled back into their minds. Something took over and they were lost again.

Dean crept through the dark cemetery examining headstones. He found what he was looking for under an old tree near the back wall. He looked at his watch, 10:18. He committed the site to memory and turned to leave. Then came the anger, slowly seeping into his veins. He knew it wasn't his. He knew the signs and understood what was happening. The feelings were pushing him away from the graves. The spirit didn't want him there. He wasn't going to take it. He fought to stay coherent. He was going to end this now. He retrieved a shovel from the car and returned to the site. He started with George, the guiltiest. It was nearly sunrise when he finished. He was exhausted and headed back to the hotel. Tossing his coat on the couch, he went into the master bedroom, but Kara was nowhere to be found. His mind was suddenly flooded with the image of Kara and Sam together. It was impossible, but he went to the other room just to make sure. When he opened the door he was shocked. There was Kara asleep on Sam's chest. The rage rose quickly, before he had any chance of keeping it in check. He slammed the door and watched as they jumped up. Kara stared at him, her eyes wide as saucers. Sam had the presence of mind to get out of bed and grab his jeans from the floor.

Kara could feel the anger radiating from Dean. She was frozen in fear. She knew exactly why she was in Sam's bed, but didn't want to be there. The decision had not been hers'. She heard the argument as if through water. She only made out a few words and phrases as the brothers advanced on each other. "Not what you think." "Didn't mean to." "Possessed." Dean pushed Sam hard against the wall and turned his anger toward Kara. The look in his eyes terrified her. Dean had a temper, but she had never feared him. She knew she could put up a good fight. This time it wasn't Dean she saw in the familiar eyes. The rage was someone else's. He seized her by the wrist and jerked her to her feet. A scream escaped her as his grip tightened. He raised his hand to slap her, but Sam's shoulder collided with his ribs. The two brothers tumbled to the floor. Dean flipped Sam onto his back and wrapped his hands around his throat.

"Stop it!" Kara yelled as she put her arms under his and grabbed him by the shoulders. Then she pulled backwards with all her weight. His grip on Sam loosened. He reached up and caught her arm, pulling her off his back with a strength that wasn't his. The force of the movement flung her like a rag doll against the wall. She hit her head and fell to the floor. She fought to keep her eyes open, but couldn't. The last thing she saw was the soft glow of sunlight filtering in through the lace curtains.

Kara had no idea how long she'd been out. She knew her head hurt and Dean had done it. He was leaning over her now, gently touching her face and calling her name. She took a moment to feel out the room before opening her eyes. The anger was gone, but the uneasy feeling remained. He was hurting. She could feel it, the pain and regret. She could almost hear his voice in her ears apologizing for what he'd done. When her eyes finally opened, she saw the look on his face. She knew he hadn't meant it. It wasn't him, just like she and Sam had never meant to spend the night together. None of them had a choice. The spirits were too powerful. These were not the 1927 murder victims. These spirits were older, stronger and held on to deeper emotions. They had to talk about this and now, before one of them ended up dead.

It was Sam that brought it up, "We're being possessed. Those murders in '27. It must be them."

Kara winced a bit, "No, these spirits are too strong."

"Besides," said Dean taking a large gulp of coffee, "I burned their bones last night."

"Then maybe these spirits drove George Kenly to commit murder." Sam suggested.

Dean agreed, "Pretty good chance." He turned his attention to Kara, "Did you find anything earlier in the archives?"

"No, nothing." she answered, but then the story from the day before came back to her, "Wait, a woman at the café yesterday told me that her grandfather told her a story of a murder in the hotel around the turn of the century. I didn't research it because everyone else said her grandfather was a liar. I'll head back to the archives and see what I can find." Kara stood up and wobbled.

Dean put his arm around her waist to steady her, "I'm going with you. You still aren't doing too well."

"I'm coming too." Sam said as he rose from his chair, "Three sets of eyes will make the work go faster. We have to find out who's haunting this hotel before we kill each other."

By lunch time, they were buried deep in old newspapers. They hadn't found a thing. Dean was getting frustrated and his short temper was getting shorter by the minute. The archivist walked over and offered her help, but she knew nothing about any murder at the hotel. Then she snapped her fingers, "If anyone would know, it would be Glynnis. She's the head of the historical society. She'll be over at the museum." The trio jumped to their feet and thanking the woman headed out the door.

The sign on the museum door said "Out to lunch. Be back at 1."

"It's ten after." Kara groaned. She sat down on the Impala's hood and let her feet dangle.

Dean grinned, "Well, I don't think this place is too popular." Just then, an old orange Volkswagen bus pulled into the lot. The woman who got out looked rather like Mrs. Claus. She had a round face with pink cheeks and little round, gold rimmed glasses. Her blonde hair was peppered with white and gray and her jumper had a rustic scene of a bear by a river on the front. Dean's face contorted and Kara gave him a nudge that clearly meant stop it.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You kids must be waiting for me.", the woman said as she pulled out her keys and unlocked the door. The three followed her inside, but said nothing as they watched her put her things away and continue her story, "Diane said she was sending you over. I just thought I'd be back in time. Darn dog got out and ran all over the neighborhood. Spent the last half hour chasing him down. Crazy mutt." She finished putting her things away and leaned on the edge of the reception desk, "So, I hear you have a question about a murder."

Sam piped up, "Yeah, back around the turn of the century. In the hotel across the street."

Glynnis's brow furrowed, "Hmm, I think there was something. Follow me." she said heading for the back of the building. The group walked through the exhibit hall and into the building's office space. Down in the basement was a climate controlled room for storage. "We have a running exhibit on the turn of the last century." she said looking through some large metal shelves. "Household objects, railroad items, personal papers and correspondence," she continued, "and local newspapers." She pulled a large bound volume from a shelf and went to a table in the center of the room. Setting it down, she began to flip through the pages. They gathered around, Kara on her left, Dean on her right, and Sam directly opposite. Dean watched the yellowed pages turn trying to catch a hint of what they were looking for. Finally Glynnis stopped and pointed at a small article near the bottom of the page, "Hear it is. Murder suicide. Nathaniel Hill murdered his brother, Thomas, in an argument over prostitute Bethany Bartlett who was also shot by Mr. Hill. He then shot himself in the head out of guilt. Miss Bartlett bled to death, but not before giving the name of her murderer and saying that he repeatedly apologized for his actions."

"That's just what happened in 1927." Sam said looking up.

"Really?" asked Glynnis, "I didn't know the two were so similar."

Dean continued to read, "Nathaniel was said to have a relationship with Miss Bartlett and planned to marry her. She rejected him and he later found her in the arms of his younger brother Thomas." Kara looked down at her hands. She now understood why the spirits had chosen them.

"Glynnis. Do you know where they might be buried?" Sam asked.

She gave him a stern look, "Now why would you ask me that?"

It was Kara who answered, "It's happening again. Nathaniel, Thomas and Bethany have come back and are possessing us just like they did to those people in 1927. We have to stop them before they kill us." The older woman looked stunned. Kara put a hand on her arm, "Please Glynnis. The possession has already begun."

Glynnis looked into Kara's eyes, and placing her hand on top of the young woman's answered, "I don't know for sure, but I'd bet my life on Old Oak Ridge."

"Let's go." Dean said, "Before it gets dark. I don't want that bastard taking over again."

"So, they chose us because we're brothers who happen to have a girl with them?" Sam asked as they wandered through the graveyard.

"Not exactly." Kara said, "I think we're getting close. The presence is getting stronger.

"Then why?" Dean questioned, straining to read the old gravestones.

Kara didn't look at him she just walked on ahead of them, "It's because you're two brothers, traveling with the girl that the older one is involved with. It just so happens that, the girl is a prostitute." She quietly waited for a reaction. Sam said nothing. He just continued the search. Dean stopped in his tracks. The setting sun cast long shadows between the old oaks. "Don't look at me like that." she said with a sigh.

Dean was angry, "How would you know how I look? You aren't even looking at me!" he yelled.

Kara didn't turn around, "Your eyebrows are knotted. Your nostrils flare every time you breathe and your lips are closed so that you pout like a child." She was right and somehow that stoked the fire. "A father can teach his sons many ways to support themselves. The best way our mother knew to support us was to use her assets. I just followed her example."

"You didn't have to do it." Dean answered trying to hold back the anger that grew inside him.

Kara continued to search for the graves, "We did what we had to, to survive."

Dean caught up to her and grabbed her arm, turning her to face him "That's wrong. She turned you into a whore."

"Don't you dare tell me what's right or wrong." Kara said jerking her arm from his grip "Your father turned you into a criminal." Dean's jaw tightened. "Who are you to talk anyway? You spread it around for free. I'm smart enough to get paid for it." Things were getting worse. The graves had to be close. All the anger was playing right into the spirits' hands. The more emotional they got, the easier it would be to possess them, using their own anger to drive him to murder.

Sam's voice called from a few feet away, "I found them." They pulled out shovels and began to dig. It was dark when they finished. The three sat quietly beneath an oak and watched the fires burn. Each one was lost in thought never knowing what the others were thinking. Sam's need for Kara slipped away. Dean's anger settled to a dull ache of disappointment rather than rage. Kara was left wondering exactly how Dean felt. She'd been wholly honest with him for the first time in the years since they met and it had driven a wedge between them. Bethany's spirit had brought up something she never thought she'd deal with, feelings for Sam. She took a final loving glance at him before turning to Dean.

Wrapping her arm around his she whispered, "I'm sorry."

He didn't even look at her, "There's nothing to be sorry about. You're right. We're both wrong." He pulled his arm from her grasp and stood up. Turning his back on the scene, he walked away. The silence returned.

Dean slept in the second bedroom leaving Kara alone in the master. In the morning he packed his things and headed downstairs ahead of the other two. He absently told Mr. Schultz that his ghost troubles were over and went out to the Impala. Kara appeared minutes later. Dean was sitting on the hood, his heels propped on the front bumper. She dropped her bag and moved closer, "Sam'll be out in a minute. He's talking to Mr. Schultz." Dean only nodded. "I'm catching the train to St. Louis. I'll fly home from there." She stood between his knees and took his face in her hands. She kissed him gently on the lips one last time, "Give me a call if you work things out." Backing up, she gathered her bag and walked away.

Sam came out of the hotel and watched her go, "Where's she going?"

Dean didn't answer. He just slid off the hood and moved to the driver's side door, "Get in. We need to talk."