A/N...Gosh, I don't know. I think I used up all my words writing the chaper...


"We're here" Dean looked up at the door number, written above the door frame. "This is the room"

Sam nodded and took out his little notebook. "Her name is Bree Maynard" He ran a hand through his hair. "Little sister to the party girl, she's only thirteen"

The men entered the darkened room. All of the curtains were pulled and had been taped around the edges to stop them from being opened. Only a small bed side lamp provided any illumination.

There was a lady sitting in an armchair by the bed, she was holding the hand of the girl, who looked pale and drawn, and much younger than her thirteen years.

"Excuse me? Ma'am?" Sam held up his badge, making sure his face was reflecting nothing but sympathy and understanding.

The woman looked up at him, her eyes rimmed red, her brow furrowed.

"Um, Mrs. Maynard? I'm Agent Young, this is my partner, Agent Vander. The nurse said, if it was all right with you, that we could ask Bree some questions"

She shrugged. "I guess. Bree, honey? Do you think you could talk to these gentlemen?"

Bree looked at the men. She had no expression on her face. She seemed perhaps stunned, or maybe medicated.

She nodded, her hand still clutching tight to her mother's.

Dean pulled a chair over to his brother, aware that Sam's height may be intimidating, and he stepped back to stand near the door.

"Bree, my partner and I are investigating what happened at the party the other night. Can you tell us what happened?"

"There was someone at the window. I opened the curtains. I didn't look, I was too scared. I had my back turned, all I could hear was everyone screaming so I ran to them, I grabbed a pillow and covered up my face. I didn't look up until everyone stopped screaming"

A single tear dripped down her face. "It's all my fault" she whispered.

Sam gave her an encouraging look. "Why do you think it was your fault, Bree?"

Another tear trickled down her face. "I told them the story. The story about the witch, if you say her name backwards three times she appears, and you bleed to death." She started to sob. "I didn't mean it. I just wanted to fit in"

"Um, Bree? Where did you get this story from?"

Her mother stood and placed her arms around her daughter. "I think she's had enough" she said as Bree started to sob even harder.

"If she could tell us just that one thing..."

Bree's mother glared at him, a tear streaking down her own face. "Agent! She's had enough! She watched her sister and friends bleed to death in front of her!"

"I'm sorry ma'am, really, but we want to stop this happening to anyone else. If we could just find out who told Bree that story..."

Mrs. Maynard stood and pointed at him. "Get out! Leave us alone! Can't you see we've been through too much already?"

Sam stood and backed out the door, bumping into a man and a young boy standing there. They moved back into the hallway with Sam and Dean.

The man shook their hands. "I'm Bree's dad, this is my son, Alex"

"I'm sorry" Sam told him. "We're just trying to figure out what happened."

"I know" Mr. Maynard looked down at his feet. "It was terrible. Shocking, horrible, I hope to never see anything like that again. But I also don't want anyone else to go through that" He looked up at Sam. "I don't know what we can do to help."

Dean looked at the son, a sweet looking boy of perhaps ten or eleven. "Alex? Do you know who told your sister that story?"

The boy looked at his dad for support, and his father nodded at him and placed his hand on the young fellows shoulder.

He turned his large eyes to Dean and nodded his head. "I was there. When they told her"

Dean squatted down in front of the boy. "Who told her, Alex?"

"It was the new girl. Her name is Tanya. She's in Bree's class"

Dan gave the boy a nod. "What else happened, Alex?"

The father looked surprise. "What do you mean?"

Dean looked the boy in the eye. "You know something else, don't you, Alex?"

The boy nodded. He grabbed his father's hand and held tight. "I heard them. That night, I was hiding out in the garage, and I was listening to them. I heard what they were talking about, the whole story"

"Did you hear what the name was they called? The one they said backwards?"

Alex nodded. "I heard it"

"Do you think you can tell me it?"

The boy shook his head. "They said if you say it backwards three times, that she comes to curse you"

Dean nodded. "Well, then, well be careful not to do that, now won't we? We'll just say it once, and not backwards. How's that sound?"

Alex looked nervous, but the earnest face before him gave him the confidence to speak.

"Celia" He squeezed his father's hand. "Her last name was funny. It was good woman, something like that"

"Goodwife?" Sam asked.

Alex nodded. "That's all I heard. About her name, I mean. See, then I got scared and ran inside. But before I went in...I saw...um..."

Mr. Maynard squatted down next to Dean. "What, son? What did you see?"

The boy's bottom lip started to quiver, his eyes filling with tears. "I saw this white, sort of swirly thing, it was like a ghost"

"You saw a ghost?" Alex's dad exclaimed.

"I don't know! It was like, I don't know, like white smoke, maybe?"

Dean reached out and touched the boy's arm very lightly. "Did it take shape? Did it look like anything? A girl, or a lady?"

The boy shook his head. "No, all I saw was the smoke. By the time I got inside the girls were already screaming. I opened the door and I..." he started to sob and fell forward into his father's arms. Mr. Maynard stood, lifting his son with him.

"I'm sorry, officers, I thought he would be more help"

Dean stood and gave the man a supportive nod. "It's okay. He's probably helped more than he knows."

"Thank you. And our deepest sympathies" Sam added as they left the grieving family.

"So, demon?" Dean asked once they were out of earshot.

"Dunno. Smoke was white. Maybe it's a ghost? Vengeful spirit?"

"Sounds like" Dean pulled his car keys from his pocket as they left the hospital.

"How come it didn't take the boy? He saw it, up close" Sam shook his head. "This is weird"

"Let's go visit that girl, and the cemetery. Oh, and Sam, how did you know what her last name would be?"

"That's a common term from early American history. Round the time of the Salem witch trials"

Dean frowned. "Not a witch. Please tell me this is not a witch hunt"

Sam smirked. "Every time you say that, we turn out to be hunting a witch"

"Please tell me this is not a playboy bunny hunt" Dean waggled his eyebrows at Sam.

"Funny. Never gonna happen, but funny"

X

X

X

X

The house was overly cheery, thought Dean. Bright yellow, lipstick pinkish red roof and trim, buttercups and cornflowers bobbing their heads in the well manicured garden.

The front porch held a double swing with floral cushions, and a massive calico sat in the middle, observing them through half lidded, bright orange eyes.

"Looks like something from a sixties sitcom" Sam commented beside him as they climbed the high steps. "Living here'd make me puke"

"I dunno. Looks kinda friendly"

"Yeah, in a creepy grandma sorta way" Sam counted as he rang the bell.

Tiptoe Through The Tulips played in double time and Dean pursed his lips. "You're right. That's just creepy"

The front door opened , though the screen door was still closed, and both the boys had their badges out.

"Oh, you're them, the agents my nephew told me about" a woman's voice called through the one way screen, and they could hear the door unlatch.

It swung outwards and revealed a tallish, rather attractive middle aged woman. "Please, do come in. Jeremy rang me to let me know you would probably come past"

Dean followed her in as Sam held the door for him before pulling it shut behind them. "I'm Ali. Come in, come in, I'll make you some coffee"

The house was every bit as colorful and floral as the outside, with silk flowers, cherubs, and tapestries of cats and puppies adorning the walls.

Dean looked at the sofa and back at his brother. "I can't sit on that" he hissed.

The sofa was coved in a bright, rosy print showing nothing but white roses and baby faces.

"Just sit, Dean" Sam whispered back.

"I caint sit on a baby face" Dean grunted back. He looked around, the only other seat was a plaid armchair, that was fully occupied by another fat cat.

Dean moved over to the chair and scooped the cat onto the floor.

The seat was covered in car hair. Sam shrugged and sat on the sofa as the woman, Ali, walked in with a tray of coffee mugs and cookies.

"Please, sit, the sofa has less pet hair than that chair!" She sat the tray on the small coffee table and pulled one of the matching baby face chairs over to face the hunters.

"I'm sorry I didn't catch your names"

"Agents Vander and Young" Sam smiled at her. "We were hoping to talk to your daughter"

"I've called her down" Ali answered, her face suddenly sad. "She may take a few minutes. She, oh, gosh, how do I describe this? She doesn't quite work on the same speed as the rest of us anymore"

"Can you tell us anything about that night?" Sam asked leaning forward as he tried to ignore Dean squirming beside him, casting suspicious glances at the fabric covering the sofa.

"Not much. The kids used to hang out together a lot. They were rambunctious, you know, a little bit wild, the way kids can be sometimes. No trouble, or anything, just growing up and having fun"

Sam nodded as Dean twisted uncomfortably and moved a little further over.

"Andrea and her best friend came home that night a bit late, I was angry at her, she was supposed to be at the library, but I could smell smoke on her. Oh I knew that girl Maryanne was a bad influence, I was sure of it!"

"We weren't smoking, mom" a soft voice admonished. "You always thought the worst of us, but we we're the nerds. We never did anything wrong"

Ali jumped up. "Oh, honey, I didn't mean that! These agents need to talk to you about that night. It's happened again, the same thing, and they're trying to stop it happening again"

Andrea looked at the two men. She wasn't a very tall girl, though she was pretty in a sad, unkempt sort of way. "I know. You told me Jeremy rang, remember?"

She looked at Sam then at Dean. "What do you want to know?"

Dean moved around again and Sam jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. "Could you tell us what happened that night?"

Andrea shrugged. Her mother pulled a chair closer and the girl sat. "We were taking a short cut through the cemetery and we saw these jerks all making out and smoking and drinking. We had to get passed them to get through the gate. That's about it"

Dean leaned forward, as much of his ass off the sofa as he could manage without falling off. "There was a little more, though, wasn't there, Andrea?"

She shook her head. "We left. We got passed them, and we left"

"Did you hear them say anything?"

Andrea's face paled, but she shook her head. "No, nothing"

"They didn't, say, call out to a witch, maybe?"

Andrea looked at her mom. "Could you make me some tea, please?"

Ali smiled and patted her daughter on the knee. "If course, honey"

As soon as her mother had left the room Andrea turned to the men. "They did a spell, okay? They were having a séance, or something, and were trying to call up spirits. Then this wind came up and lightning, it was like a horror movie. We ran, Maryanne and me. We didn't stop till we got home. If we smelled like smoke it was all the weird shit they were burning in pots and bowls that got on us while we were hiding, trying to get passed. "

"They didn't call a witch's name backwards three times?"

Andrea ran her hands through her limp hair. "Look. I've heard that story, at school and shit, but that's not what happened. Somehow it all got tangled together with what happened to us. Maryanne died, she bled to death, but the kids there, they didn't say anyone's name backwards or sidewards or upside down. They were having some kind of séance, and they were speaking in, I dunno, Italian? Weird stuff. Sacred the shit outta me. Shared the shit outta Maryanne. We ran faster that we ever had before." She swiped an angry tear from her face. "Didn't do us any good, did it?"

"Um, Andrea? Could you show us where this happened?" Sam asked her.

She shook her head, lips tight. "No. I'm not going back there, not ever again." She looked up at Sam, her eyes flashing. "Not ever, you hear!"

Dean held his hands out in a placating gesture. "It's okay. You don't have to take us there. Could you tell us how to find the right place, at least?"

She sighed. "Yeah, I can"

Andrea's mother came bustling back in, another tray, this time with a tea cup and more cookies. She frowned as she looked at her daughter. "Is everything all right here?"

Andrea accepted the tea but waved away the cookies. "It's fine, mom." She sat her tea down on the table. Looking back at Dean she took a large breath, then lowered her gaze.

"There's a gate, at the back of the cemetery, you'll find it okay, it's just off Simon's road. When you go in you'll see a big browny sorta reddish marble mausoleum, we were hiding behind that. So, if you hide behind that you can look over to where they were. Is that enough?"

The brothers exchanged glances. "I think so, yeah" Dean told her.

Sam and Dean stood, Ali standing with them, but Andrea stayed seated, her face still crumpled in pain and fear.

Sam turned back to her and squatted down to her level. "We'll fix this. I promise"

She looked at the man, his face soft with empathy and kindness. "You can't fix this. Even if you stop the thing that did this, Maryanne will still be dead. Those other kids will still be dead. And I can't ever not know what I know. So, really, thanks for caring, but you can't fix this"

Sam gave her a down turned smile. "Well, we'll stop the thing, and we'll stop it from happening again."

He stood and thanked Andrea's mom for the coffee and followed his brother out of the brightly painted door.

Ali stepped out onto the front porch with them. "I'm sorry, agents, she is delusional, I know. The counselor said it was post traumatic stress disorder. She had to find a way to cope with the tragedy, and retreating into a fantasy was her way of dealing"

"Yes, ma'am. We understand. It's all right, really. We deal with this sort of thing all the time." Dean handed her a card. "If she thinks of anything else"

They didn't talk as they walked to the car, but both brothers had furrowed brows and thoughtful expressions.

Dean unlocked the car and climbed in, starting the motor as Sam slid into the passenger seat beside him. "So, maybe not a vengeful spirit?"

Sam reached behind them to the back seat and pulled over his computer bag. "Still could be, Dean" he pulled his computer out and flipped it open. "If they were doing a séance they may have pulled some poor girl's wronged spirit up. If we find the right grave this could all be a quick salt and burn before the night's over"

"Aw, Sammy, why'd ya have to go and do that?"

Sam frowned and looked at his brother. "What? What did I do?"

"You don't think before you speak? Haven't you learned by now that there's no such thing as a simple salt and burn? You had to jinx us, didn't you?"

X

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X

The breeze was soft, just swirling the leaves around the gravel path, the trees barely moving, just here and there a gentle rustle.

The gate swung, just a little, the faint squeak of metal an eerie sound that fit the visage too well.

The cemetery looked old, like it had been here many decades, though the gate seemed in good repair and the weeds around the fence were barely overgrown.

Dean grabbed a container of salt and a shotgun. Sam looked past his brother into the cemetery. "I can see the mausoleum"

Dean handed Sam a shotgun and closed the trunk. "Well, it's the only mausoleum on this side, I'd say that's the one"

They walked the short distance to the red marble structure and stood where they thought the girls might have hidden. Looking around, Sam pointed to a small clearing, headstones surrounding it in a neat circle. "I'd say that's the spot"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Me too. Who's that sitting on the ground in the middle?"

Sam stepped forward. "I see her. What's she doing?

"There's only one way to find out" Dean answered, walking towards her.


A/N...Please review. Just a word, here, and I'll come over and clean your oven...