Bedtime Stories
The Impala raced down the highway, Sam and Dean bickering in the front as always, Michelle trying to block them out from the back. She was kneeling on the seat, her face pressed against the back window, staring at the empty highway behind them. She craned her neck to follow the sight of a lone bullfrog sitting off to the side of the road until it disappeared in the distance.
"I don't understand, Dean," Sam's voice drifted over to her as she twisted in her seat to face the front, "Why not?"
"Because I said so!" Dean grumbled, his grip on the steering wheel tightening in his frustration.
"But we got the Colt now!"
"Sam..." Dean said warningly before they both began to argue with each other until Michelle could barely understand them.
"We can summon the Crossroads Demon..." Sam began.
"We're not summoning anything," Dean cut in.
"...pull the gun on her and force her to let you out of the deal!"
"We don't even know if that'll work!"
"Well then we'll just shoot her! If she dies then the deal goes away!"
"We don't know if that'll work either, Sam! All you're pitching me right now is a bunch of 'ifs' and 'maybes' and that's not good enough, because if we screw with this deal, you die!"
"And if we don't screw with it, you die!"
"Sam, enough! I am not going to have this conversation."
"Why, because you said so?"
"YES BECAUSE I SAID SO!"
"Well you're not dad!"
Michelle, who had been turning her head back and forth following the argument as though it were a tennis match, winced as the brothers fell silent. It wasn't her place to get involved with such a touchy subject, considering she hadn't been travelling with them all that long. She knew all about Dean's deal to sell his soul from Bobby, but she didn't think they'd appreciate a random stranger lecturing them.
"No, but I am the oldest and I'm doing what's best," Dean said after a moment, "And you're going to let this go, you understand me?"
She could see Sam visibly deflate, but, glancing at the corner of his face, she could see he was anything but defeated.
Dean sighed, "Tell me about the psychotic killer Michelle."
Seeing the opening of changing the subject, Michelle picked up the paper beside her, "Psychotic killer. Rips victims apart with brute-like ferocity."
"Ok," Dean commented, thinking, "Any mention of his razor sharp teeth or his four inch claws? Animal eyes?"
"No," Sam added, leaning back to look at the paper's date, "But the lunar cycle's right."
Michelle nodded, "If it is a werewolf we don't have long, the moon's full this Friday and that's the last time it changes for a month."
"Two days," Dean smirked, flooring it, "No sweat."
~8~
The next morning the trio was standing in the hospital room of the lone survivor of the town's latest attack, holding up their fake badges, dressed in their FBI suits, Michelle in pants.
"I'm Detective Plant," Dean introduced himself, putting his badge away, nodding back at Sam and Michelle standing on either side of him, "This is Detective Page and Detective Bonham-Jones, we're with the County Sheriff's Department."
Michelle shook her head, one day Dean's love of giving them names of famous rock stars was going to bite them. Page and Plant? Bonham-Jones? Any Led Zepplin fan could call them out.
"Yeah, uh, I've been expecting you," the man, Kyle, replied.
"You have?" Dean was a bit shocked.
Kyle nodded, "All morning," he glanced at Sam, "You are the sketch artist, right?"
"...um..." he glanced between Michelle and Dean, clearly looking for help.
"Absolutely," Dean smirked.
Which he was not going to get.
Sam hung his head, "Yeah."
"Yeah," Dean laughed, clapping Sam on the back, "That is exactly who my partner is. The things he can do with a pen," Sam glared at him, but Dean steadily ignored him, "But listen before we get started on that I wanted to ask you, uh, how'd you get away?"
"I...I have no idea," Kyle mumbled, "I was hiding, and he found me. He was coming right for me and then he just stopped. Staring at me with this blank look. And after that he just took off running."
"'Kay, um," Sam fiddled with his notepad, "I'm going to need as much physical detail as you can remember," he took out a pen and began sketching, much to the amusement of Dean and Michelle, who was taking notes on her own notepad.
"Uh yeah," Kyle thought, "Uh, he's about six feet tall...dark hair..."
"What about his eyes, what color eyes did he have?" Michelle asked, trying to help out, black would mean a demon.
"Maybe blue?" Kyle said, sounding more like a question than a statement, "It was dark."
Crossing off the demon theory, Dean went with the next best guess, "Did they seem, uh, animalish?"
"Excuse me?"
That was a no.
"Guys?" Michelle cut in, only to be ignored.
"What about his teeth? You notice anything strange about 'em?" Sam continued.
Kyle shook his head, "No, they were just teeth."
"I don't think he's…" Michelle tried again.
"How about his fingernails?" Dean interrupted, causing Michelle to huff.
"Ok look he...he's just a...a normal guy, with normal eyes and...and teeth and fingernails!" Kyle nearly shouted.
"Look sir, it's ok if…" Sam began.
"No. No. Those were my brothers! This guy, he...he killed my brothers. How would you feel?"
Sam paused, "I can't imagine anything worse."
Dean glanced at Sam for a moment, "I know this isn't easy, but if you could remember any more details..."
Kyle thought for a moment, "There...there was one more thing he had a...a tattoo on his arm of a cartoon character. It's, uh, it's the guy who's chasing the Roadrunner…"
"Wile E. Coyote?"
"Yeah, that's it," Kyle confirmed as a man in a doctor's coat walked into the room.
"Kyle?" the doctor asked.
"Dr. Garrison," Kyle greeted.
"How you holding up?"
"Ok, considering…"
"You're Kyle's doctor?" Dean asked, the man nodded. Dean flipped out his ID, "Can I just ask you a few questions?"
"Sure," Dr. Garrison said, leaving the room with Dean.
Sam and Michelle were about to follow, when Kyle called out to them, "Don't I get to see it?"
Sam flinched and turned back to face the bed, fidgeting with his notepad, "What? Uh, yeah. Yeah, yeah, um yeah it's a, you know, work-in-progress."
He handed his notebook to Kyle, only for the man to see a horribly drawn picture of a man. It distinctly reminded Michelle of a child's drawing.
"Hmm," Kyle hummed, squinting at it about, "It...it's really...um…"
Michelle smiled softly, taking the pad from the patient and giving it back to Sam, "How's this?" she handed her own notepad to him.
"Yeah!" Kyle nodded fervently, "That's him! Almost exactly!"
Sam furrowed his brow as Michelle took the pad back with a, "Thank you for your help, sir."
She turned and began walking towards the door, Sam following after. As soon as they were in the hallway she turned and handed the pad to Sam, knowing he wanted to see it. It was a decent sketch, portraying a generic male with some of the traits that the Kyle had given.
"Wow…" Sam said, examining the sketch, handing it back to her, "You're a closet artist too?"
She laughed, shaking her head, "My mom was an anthropologist. Sketching is part of the package for some," she glanced at Sam, "What, you thought my mom's only contribution to my upbringing was telling me stories?"
"How is sketching part of hunting?" Sam countered.
"Touché," she laughed.
They spotted Dean down the hall, speaking with the doctor, and made their way towards them.
~8~
Dean couldn't stop laughing as they walked down the street, away from the hospital. He had Sam's notepad in his hands as well as Michelle's and received no end of pleasure in comparing Sam's to hers.
"Boy this is a piece of uh…art," he commented, glancing at his brother, "Really. It should go in a gallery."
Michelle laughed, stepping over a bullfrog, sitting on the corner, as they crossed the street.
Sam grabbed the notepad away from his brother, "Yeah like you could've done any better."
"Apparently Mickey could," Dean laughed.
"Don't call me that!" Michelle grumbled, punching him in the arm.
"So what did the Doc have to say about Kyle's brothers?" Sam interrupted, trying to keep them both from starting a war that only one of them would survive.
"Not much," Dean shrugged, "They were D.O.A. at the scene. He did give me the lowdown on the coroner's report."
"Lemme guess, their hearts were missing?"
"Nope," Dean remarked, popping the p, "But chunks of their kidneys, lungs, and intestines."
"Gross," Michelle commented.
"Yeah, also definitely not werewolf behavior."
"I could have told you that. The way he was reacting to your questions about fangs and claws was enough of a tip off that it's human, or human-like."
"So, what?" Sam shook his head, "Demon? Attacker could've been possessed."
Both Dean and Michelle shook their heads, "Why would a demon stop halfway through an attack?" Dean asked.
"I think that, uh...coulda...I...I got nothing," Sam sighed.
"Me neither."
"And besides, during an attack a demon's eyes usually flash black at some point," Michelle added, "Even if it was dark out, hard to notice the whites of someone's eyes completely disappearing."
~8~
The next day the trio found themselves back in the hospital, visiting a different patient this time, a young woman, Julie Watson. They arrived at the room just as Dr. Garrison was leaving, "Detectives," he greeted with a nod.
"Dr. Garrison," Dean returned the favor.
"What the hell is going on here? My whole town is going insane!"
Sam sighed, "We'll let you know as soon as we do."
The doctor sighed and walked off, allowing them to enter the room.
"Ms. Watson?" Sam asked, stepping up to her bed, "Hi. We just need to ask you a few questions."
They flipped out their badges quickly.
"Do we have to go over this again now?" Julie sighed.
Michelle smiled reassuringly, "We'll try to be brief. Ms. Watson. Can you tell us how you got away?"
"I didn't eat as much as Ken did, so I wasn't as out of it," she said, before tearing up, "And, when the old woman was...carving up Ken, I shoved her and she fell. Cracked her head on the stove. She's dead, right? I...I killed her?"
Not wanting to answer the question, Dean changed the subject, "D'you have any idea why she did this to you?"
"No! One minute she was a sweet old lady and the next she was, like, a monster."
"Can you remember anything else?" Sam continued.
"Um, yeah," she mumbled, looking at them, "Did you find a little girl there, by any chance?"
"A little girl?" Michelle repeated, glancing at the boys before focusing on the girl again, "At the house?"
"I thought I saw her outside the window. She just disappeared. Just vanished, into thin air. It...it must've been the drugs."
"This disappearing girl what'd it…what did she look like?" Dean eased.
"Does it matter?" Julie asked exasperatedly.
"Yes," Sam nodded, "Every detail matters."
Julie sighed, "She had this dark, dark hair and really pale skin. She was around eight. She was a beautiful child, it was...odd...to see her in the middle of something so horrible."
~8~
"Well there's no sulfur anywhere," Dean commented as he investigated the outside of 'the Old Lady's home' later that day, "How about the EMF?"
"Yeah," Michelle called from inside, holding the small device. She'd already told the boys she didn't suspect a demon, but, as she hadn't come face-to-face with the thing killing everyone, they couldn't be sure, "It's going nuts right over here by the window."
Sam nodded, walking over to her, "There's definitely a spirit here."
Dean walked over to the window, looking at them from outside, "Who stood outside the crime scene and watched?"
"Looks like," Sam confirmed grimly.
"What the hell do you make of that?" Dean asked them as they walked out of the house.
"Actually I do have a theory," Sam paused, "Uh, sorta."
"Hit me."
"Well, I was thinking about fairytales," Sam said, before realizing what he said and how it sounded.
"What?" Michelle asked, confused.
Dean just snorted, "Oh that's...that's nice. You think about fairytales often?"
Sam rolled his eyes, "No, Dean I'm talking about the murders. A guy and a girl, hiking through the woods, an old lady tries to eat 'em? That's 'Hansel and Gretel.' Then we got three brothers, arguing over how to build houses, attacked by the Big Bad Wolf."
Dean nodded, "'Three Little Pigs.'"
"What are you guys talking about?" Michelle asked. They turned around to see her staring at them as though they'd gone crazy.
"Huh?" Dean asked oh-so eloquently.
She shook her head at them, waiting for an explanation.
"Wait," Sam caught on, "You've never heard of the 'Three Little Pigs?' 'The Big Bad Wolf?'"
She shook her head.
"'Little Red Riding Hood?' 'Hansel and Gretel?'" Dean tried, but she just shook her head again.
"Who are they?" she asked.
"You've never heard any fairytales before?" Sam tilted his head, "Bedtime stories?"
Michelle rolled her eyes, "What part of 'my mom told me stories of vicious creatures and how to kill them for bedtime stories' did you guys not get? I know what fairytales are I just…"
"Wait," Dean laughed, "You've never read a fairytale before? The Grimm Brothers? Nothing?"
"NO!" she shouted, getting more and more frustrated with them.
"This'll be interesting," Dean muttered to himself, "Sammy, you want to take that one?"
"The Grimm Brothers," Sam began, "Were the original authors of most children's bedtime stories, fairytales. Their original stuff was kinda the folklore of it's day, full of sex and violence, cannibalism, meant to teach children lessons. It got sanitized over the years, turned into Disney flicks and the bedtime stories of our time."
Michelle nodded, following along, mostly, "So you think the murders are related?"
"Like a reenactment?" Dean continued, "That's a little crazy."
"Crazy as what?" Sam laughed, "Every day of our lives?"
"Touché. How's the creepy ghost girl involved?"
"Well, she must've been here for a reason. I'm willing to bet you top dollar she was at the construction site too."
Dean sighed, "We gotta do research now, don't we?"
Sam shrugged while Dean looked pained. Michelle just grinned. She actually liked research, and this was one of the few creatures she didn't know about.
~8~
Six hours later Dean emerged from the county library, looking none too pleased. He glared at his brother and Michelle sitting comfortably in the Impala. Sam had offered to stay with Michelle, explaining the various fairytales to her so she wouldn't fall into some sort of trap like the various damsels did. Before he could get a word in to argue, Michelle had accepted and Dean was left looking for dead girls. Joy.
"So?" Sam looked up from the driver's seat where he was leaning over to point out some things on his laptop, sitting open on Michelle's lap. Dean almost raised an eyebrow at that, Sam was very particular and partial to his laptop, he didn't let just anyone use it.
Well wasn't that cute, looked like little Sammy had a little crush.
"I checked every record they had," he grumbled, forcing the passenger's seat forward with Michelle in it. He could have used the back door, but he wanted them to be as irritated as he was.
"Hey!" she called as he slid into the backseat and laid down, pressing his hands to his eyes.
"Found the usual amount of childhood deaths for a town this size."
"Ok," Sam said.
"Wanna know how many how many were little girls with black hair and pale skin?"
Michelle smirked, "Judging by your pleasant demeanor…zero?" she guessed.
Dean thumped the back of her seat.
~8~
"Zero!" Dean continued to grumble as they walked in the park, he claimed he needed to stretch his legs after sitting for so long, "You wanna know how many little girls with black hair and pale skin that have gone missing? Right again. Zip. zilch, nada. Tell me you've got something good 'cause I've totally wasted the last six hours."
"Well you ever hear of Lillian Bailey?" Sam cut in, saving him and Michelle from the agony of listening to Dean bitch for another hour, "She was a British medium from the 1930s."
"She got a thing for fairytales?" Dean snapped, getting frustrated with the whole thing.
Sam almost laughed, "No...trances. See, she'd go into these unconscious states where um, get this, her thoughts and actions were completely controlled by spirits."
"A ghost puppet master?" Dean stopped his pacing to face them.
"Yeah," Michelle nodded.
"Think that's what this kid is doing? Sending wolfboy and grandma into trances, making them go kill-crazy?"
"Could be," Sam shrugged, "You know, kinda like uh, a spirit hypnosis or somethin'."
"Trances I get, but fairytale trances?" Dean looked at him incredulously, "That's bizarre even for us."
They paused in their walking as a croaking noise reached them. They looked down to see a bullfrog sitting in their path.
Sam shot a look at Dean, "Yeah, you're right, that's completely normal."
"That's the third one I've seen," Michelle stated, squinting at the frog.
"Alright maybe it is fairytales," Dean acquiesced, "Totally messed-up fairytales."
Then, as if a thought struck them, Dean and Sam turned to look at Michelle, now squatting to look more closely at the frog. Feeling their stares on her, she glanced up at them, quirking an eyebrow before realizing why they were looking at her, "Oh, no. No way in hell am I kissing a frog."
Sam laughed, when something caught his eye, "Hey, check that out," he pointed across the street where a pumpkin sat on the porch of a house.
"Yeah?" Dean shrugged, not seeing any significance in the random pumpkin, "It's close to Halloween."
"What?" Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. They just get done confirming that it's probably fairytales and the man completely fails to see it staring him in the face, "You remember 'Cinderella?'"
"The pumpkin that turns into a coach and the mice that become horses?" Michelle asked, squinting as she tried to recall if that was the correct story.
"Dude, could you be more gay?" Dean glared at his brother. Sam just stared at him, speechless, "Don't answer that."
They quickly made their way across the street to the house with the pumpkin and entered as quietly as they could.
"Well who knows, maybe you'll find your Fairy Godmother?" Dean smirked at Michelle.
"Is that supposed to be a slam on my outfit?" she asked, recalling how Cinderella had been dressed in rags.
Dean opened his mouth to reply, when Sam silenced them with a finger to his lips. He motioned for them all to split up, but a sound reached them. Deftly, they drew their guns and walked towards the kitchen where the noise had originated.
"Help!" someone called, "I'm in here!"
That was all they needed to rush down the rest of the hall and into the room, only to see a teenage girl sitting on the floor, handcuffed to a cabinet.
"Hey, hey, it's ok, we're here, we got you," Sam comforted as he made his way over to her, making use of his lock picking skills, Michelle and Dean stood standing, guns out, keeping an eye on their surroundings.
"You have to help me," the girl begged, "She's a lunatic."
"What happened?" Dean asked, gaze flickering from every door.
"My stepmom, she just freaked out, screamed at me, beat me," the girl cried, "Chained me up."
"Where is she now?" Michelle glanced down at her.
"I don't know," the girl replied, fear in her voice.
Dean leaned back from peeking out at the living room, only to catch something in the corner of his eye. He turned his head to look through the kitchen door, seeing a little girl peeking out at him. She fit the description, dark haired, pale, red ribbon in her hair.
"Hey," Dean called, drawing all their attention. Michelle and Sam looked over to see the girl as well.
She stood there for only a moment before walking away.
Dean glanced at Michelle, who nodded, moving to the center of the room to take position as guard, while Dean went and followed the girl. Sam looked back at the cuffs and quickly got back to work picking it.
~8~
Dean was sitting on the hood of the Impala, tossing something back and forth in his hands as Michelle and Sam approached him. They had made sure that the girl made it out of the house and waited for the cops to come and help out.
"Paramedics picked up Cinderella," Sam announced.
"Good," Dean commented, tossing the object to Sam. Michelle glanced over to see it was an apple, "So...little girl, shiny red apple. I'm guessing that means something to you, fairytale boy?"
"'Snow White?'" Michelle supplied, saving Sam from having to endure Dean's ridicule with an answer.
Sam just nodded.
"Snow White?" Dean grinned, "Oh, I saw that movie. Well the porn version anyway. There was this Wicked Stepmother? Woo, she was wicked."
Sam rolled his eyes, "There is a Wicked Stepmother. And she tries to kill Snow White with a poison apple."
"But the apple doesn't actually kill the girl, right?" Dean asked, getting serious.
"No," Michelle concluded, recalling the story, "It puts her into a deep sleep, so deep it's almost like she's dead."
Sam tossed the apple to Michelle as she got into the back of the Impala, he and his brother getting in the front.
~8~
"No, sorry," the nurse on duty at the hospital said as the three of them stood before her desk a little while later, "We don't have any comatose little girls."
"You sure?" Sam asked again.
The nurse nodded, "Totally. It's mostly old guys. And well, Callie. She's been around since before I started here."
"Callie?" Dean repeated.
"Yeah, it's so sad," the nurse shook her head, "And poor Dr. Garrison, he just won't give up on her."
"Is Callie one of his patients?" Michelle tried.
The nurse frowned sadly, "No. His daughter."
"Thank you," Michelle smiled at the nurse, turning around with the boys, "We have to find her room."
They nodded and set off down the halls, heading for the coma ward, looking into every room they passed there until they heard a voice drift over to them, "...and the Huntsman stepped inside..." they looked at each other and walked over to the next door to see Dr. Garrison sitting at the bedside of a woman with black hair, a book of fairytales open in his hand, "…and in the bed lay the Wolf. So the Huntsman took a pair of scissors and cut open the Wolf's belly."
Dr. Garrison glanced up to see them standing outside the door. He quickly shut the book and stood as they entered the room, "Detectives," he cleared his throat, "Can I help you?"
"We just..." Dean trailed.
"Heard that Callie is your daughter," Michelle continued.
"And we wanted to say how very sorry we are," Sam finished.
Dr. Garrison nodded, "Well, uh. Thank you. If you'll excuse me…"
He stepped out of the room only to be followed by the trio, "Oh, heading this way?" Dean called, "We'll walk with you. How long's Callie been like that?"
"Way to be blunt Dean," Michelle whispered.
"We don't mean to intrude, we can't possibly understand how hard it must be for you, seeing her like this," Sam apologized.
"It's not easy," the doctor admitted, "She's uh, been here since she was eight years old."
"That's when she was poisoned?" Sam asked, flinching when he realized the doctor had never said anything about poisoning.
Dr. Garrison didn't seem to notice as he just nodded, "Yes. Swallowed bleach. Never figured out how she got her hands on the bottle. My wife found her, uh, brought her to the ER here and I was on call."
"Your wife was uh, was that Callie's stepmother?" Dean ventured.
Dr. Garrison stopped walking and turned to them, shocked, "Actually, yes. How'd you know that?"
Dean shrugged, "Lucky guess."
"Well, Julie was the only mother that uh, Callie ever knew," Dr. Garrison continued, eyeing them curiously, "My wife passed away last year and uh, it's just my daughter and me now. She's all I got left. Um, excuse me, I gotta get back to work."
"Of course," Michelle nodded, watching as the doctor walked away.
"Well you're right," Dean glanced at them, "It's Snow White in spades."
"Yep," Sam nodded, "Stepmom poisons the girl, puts her into a deep sleep. What's the motive you think?"
"Could be like Mischa Barton," Dean shrugged again, "'Sixth Sense' not 'The O.C.'"
Michelle looked at him, "What?"
Dean rolled his eyes, "Hey, you two know fairytales, I know movies. She played the pasty ghost? You know the, uh, remember the mom had that thing you know, where you keep the kid sick so you get all the attention?
"Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy," Sam and Michelle answered at the same time before glancing at each other.
"Yeah…" Dean eyed them oddly, before continuing, "So, say all these years Callie's been suffering silently because nobody knows the truth about what mommy dearest did?"
Sam nodded, starting to walk off with Dean and Michelle on either side of him, "And after all this time her spirit just gets angrier and angrier, until it finally just starts lashing out."
"Right. Meanwhile she has to listen to dad tell her these deranged stories about a rabid wolf or a cannibalistic old lady, it's enough to drive anybody nuts."
"But how are we gonna stop her?" Michelle asked, "I mean Callie's stuck here, her father's keeping her body alive."
"It does make it a bit hard to burn the bones."
"You think?" Sam said sarcastically.
Suddenly the doors of the reception area burst open and a team of EMTs raced through with a stretcher between them. They could see an elderly woman lying on it.
"Ok, what's her status?" they heard a doctor call as he moved next to the stretcher.
"72 year old female, sustained multiple lacerations and puncture wounds," the second EMT answered, "BP is 80 over 40 and falling. Sinus tachycardia."
"What was the last story Dr. Garrison was reading Callie?" Michelle asked Sam, keeping her gaze on the gurney disappearing through the ER doors.
"'Little Red Riding Hood,'" Sam answered as Dean walked purposely towards the ER. They reached the doors just in time to see a white sheet being thrown over the woman.
Dean looked around, noticing the second EMT off to the side, "Excuse me!" he jogged over, Michelle and Sam following after, "Was she the only victim?"
"She was found by the side of the road, barely alive," he answered, "Alone."
Sam nodded, "We need to find her next of kin."
"Yeah, she has a granddaughter."
"Do you have an address?" Michelle asked, hopeful. The EMT nodded, pulling out a sheet of paper and handing it to them. They thanked the man and quickly walked away.
Dean stopped walking a little ways off, "Hey, you find a way to stop Callie, alright?"
"What about you?" Sam looked at his brother.
Dean just grinned and took the paper from Michelle, "I'm gonna go stop the Big Bad Wolf," his grin faltered as he considered his words, "Which is the weirdest thing I've ever said."
He shook his head and walked away, leaving Sam and Michelle to stare after him.
Sensing the worry coming from Sam, Michelle grinned, "I'm sure that's not the weirdest thing he's ever said," she commented, trying to lighten the mood.
Sam looked at her, seeing what she was trying to do, and smiled, "Come on," he took her hand and pulled her down the hallway, "We should probably find Dr. Garrison."
~8~
They'd been searching for a few minutes when they finally spotted Dr. Garrison a few halls down from Callie's room.
"Dr. Garrison!" Sam shouted, jogging up to him, "We need to speak with you."
"Detectives," the doctor greeted, "What can I do for you?"
"Well, um," Sam glanced at Michelle for help, but it appeared she didn't have any better idea of how to talk to him about this than he did, "It's about Callie."
"My daughter?" he stiffened, "What about her?"
"You know maybe…maybe we should sit down for a minute?" Michelle suggested, fidgeting.
"No," he almost growled in annoyance, "What about her?"
"'Kay, well, um," Sam paused, "Alright doctor, this isn't gonna be easy. What happened to Callie was not an accident."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm sorry," Michelle confirmed, "But it's true."
"You have no idea what happened to my daughter," he stated before walking off down the hall, towards Callie's room.
Sam and Michelle shared a glance before going after him.
"There are things you don't know doctor, about your wife," Sam tried.
"My wife?" Dr. Garrison didn't stop walking.
"Doctor, your wife poisoned Callie," Michelle said.
"Why would you say something so horrible to me?" he paused, before thinking better of it and resuming his walk, a bit more briskly than before.
"Because we need your help," Michelle continued desperately.
"You stay away from me and my daughter, you understand?"
"Doctor this isn't...please, uh…" before Sam could even finish, the doctor had entered Callie's room and shut the door in their face. Sam sighed and opened the door, following him in. Michelle shut the door gently behind her.
Dr. Garrison glanced at them, reaching for the phone in Callie's room, "I'm calling security."
Sam reached out and stopped him, grabbing the phone as well. Michelle made her way to the back of it and yanked the cord out of the wall.
"No, listen," Sam glared at the man, "We don't have time to do this. If you don't listen to me more people are going to get hurt. Because Callie is going to hurt them."
"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded.
"You're going to think we're crazy, but just listen," Michelle stepped up, "Your daughter Callie is still here. She's a spirit."
Dr. Garrison seemed to deflate at that as he looked over at Callie's body, "So you've seen her too?" he asked, surprising them both, "I sensed her, Callie, her presence, her scent. I even saw her standing at foot of my bed but I never believed it, I thought I was dreaming, I…"
"It wasn't a dream," Michelle took another step forward, laying a comforting hand on the doctor's shoulder. Sam had to admit he was a bit impressed with how she was able to switch from badass Hunter with a gun to compassionate woman just like that, "She looks like she did when she was eight. White dress. Red ribbon in her hair. She's been trying to talk to you. But you're not hearing her. You don't want to hear her, because you don't want to know what she'll say. You don't want to know what really happened, what you feel you let happen."
He sighed, "You're not cops are you?"
Sam shook his head, "No."
"Then who are you?"
"People who knows a little bit about this kind of thing," Michelle said gently, smiling.
"But, what you said about my wife poisoning Callie, that's…"
"Sir. Callie told us," Sam tried.
"What?"
"Not in so many words, but in her own way," Michelle nodded, "She told us."
He shook his head in denial, proving Michelle's previous statement, "My wife loved Callie. So how is...how is that possible?"
"I don't know," Sam admitted, "But it is."
"No," the shaking got worse, "No I...I don't believe you."
"Look, Callie is killing people. She's angry, she's desperate, because nobody will listen to her. So you have to listen to her."
Michelle squeezed the man's shoulder, "Please, listen to your daughter."
Dr. Garrison nodded and made his way over to Callie's bed. He sat down on the side of it and reached out, taking her hand in his own, "Callie? Callie it's dad," he called, looking up at Sam and Michelle. They nodded encouragingly. He took a breath and turned back to his daughter, "It's me, daddy. Is it true? Mommy do that to you? I know I wasn't listening before, but I'm listening now. Daddy's here. Please honey, is there something you wanna tell me?"
"Doctor…" Sam said softly.
Dr. Garrison looked up at Sam, who nodded behind him. He turned again to see young Callie standing on the other side of the bed.
"Is it true?" he asked her, her spirit simply nodded as her father's eyes filled with tears, "I'm so sorry, baby. But listen to me. You gotta stop what you're doing, ok? You're hurting people. I know everything now. I know the truth. It's time for you to let go. It's time for me to let you go."
Michelle and Sam watched on sadly as Dr. Garrison turned back to the bed and kissed his daughter on the forehead just before her monitor flat lined. Sam looked down, clearly upset by the circumstances. Michelle reached out and took his hand in hers. He looked at her, startled, but smiled when he saw her nod in reassurance.
~8~
"And the girl's ok?" Dr. Garrison asked as Dean finished explaining his brief debut as the Huntsman. He'd returned a little while ago to tell them that things seemed back to normal on his end and ask how they'd managed to stop the ghost girl. Dean nodded and the doctor breathed out a sigh of relief, "So, it's really over?"
"Yeah," Sam nodded.
"All thanks to you," Michelle added, smiling at him.
"Callie was the most important thing in my life," the man said, in thought, "But I should've let her go a long time ago."
Dean grinned, "See ya around, Doc."
Dr. Garrison laughed, patting Dean on the shoulder, "I sure hope not," he said, before walking away.
"Impressive stuff back there," Sam commented when the doctor was out of earshot.
"What?" Dean asked, looking between the two.
"She totally played the doctor," Sam smirked.
"I did not!" she sounded just a bit offended. "It's not that hard to give a few comforting words to people in times of need," she paused, seeing them looking at her, each with an eyebrow raised, she sighed, "Fine, I played him. But you'd be surprised, sometimes compassion goes farther than fear."
Sam just laughed as they turned to walk back to the parking lot.
"You know what Garrison said?" Dean commented as they walked, glancing at Sam, "Some good advice."
All previous mirth was gone from Sam's eyes as his jaw tensed at the words, "Is that what you want me to do Dean? Just let you go?"
He looked at his brother after not receiving an answer. Dean just looked at him knowingly before walking off.
"Don't worry Sam," Michelle's voice cut in as she once again took his hand and led him down the hallway in the direction Dean went, "Everything will work out in the end. And if it's not working out, it's not the end."
Sam just sighed, he'd guessed that she knew about Dean's deal from Bobby, that just confirmed it, "I wish that were true."
~8~
Later that night Sam picked up his bag from his bed, glancing over at a sleeping Dean on the second bed and Michelle laid out on the couch as he made his way out of the room. As soon as the door shut Michelle's eyes snapped open and she rolled off the couch. She quickly slipped on her shoes and, casting a glance at Dean as well, crept out of the room. She could see Sam easily as he tried to surreptitiously and inconspicuously walk away from the motel.
She sighed as she watched him go, shaking her head. She had an idea what he was planning to do, especially when she saw him slip the Colt into his bag while Dean had gone for a shower and she was 'digging' through her bag.
As quietly as she could she followed after him, making sure that he didn't notice her on his journey. She watched as he came to a crossroads and crouched down at its center, burying a box of the needed items, and waiting for the demon to appear.
Suddenly a woman in a black dress was standing there, talking and taunting him. She could see Sam glaring, not too pleased with the demon before pulling the Colt. She listened intently to their conversation, making a note to look into various important details that had been mentioned.
Apparently, some demon named Ruby knew how to make demon killing Colts, Dean had already been to that Crossroads Demon, someone else was holding the contract that would send Dean to Hell, and demons clearly didn't understand the bond between brothers…or Shakespeare.
Before she knew it, Sam had shot the demon in between the eyes. He lowered the Colt, breathing hard, staring at the body with a look in his eyes that reminded her of a wounded puppy crossed with self-loathing.
"Sam," she called softly, stepping towards him.
He turned to look at her, and she could see the beginnings of tears he would never let fall collecting in his eyes. She quickly walked over to him and pulled him into a hug. A few moments later she felt his arms wrap around her as well.
A/N: Lol, I once knew a woman named Michelle and she insisted that everyone call her Miss Mickey. I thought it would be a funny nickname for Dean to give her, but clearly...she doesn't like it very much. I suppose we've got Mickey and Sammy for Dean to use just to irritate them :) This chapter will definitely spark a turning point in how Dean sees Michelle.
Poor Michelle though, not even knowing fairytales, but then again, her parents probably doubted they'd run into fairy godmothers and the like. I could see them teaching her about the monsters in the stories without actually telling her the stories.
Gotta say, next chapter, one word. Gertie. Oh boy, poor Sam :)
