Chapter 3
The sudden banging on the door made Emma sit up straight in her bed. Being such a light sleeper, the loud noise made her heart jump and adrenaline pump. Not the most pleasant way to wake up.
"Sam! Sam, you in there?" She could hear Dean's angry voice crystal clear through the cheap motel door. There was more banging but Emma relaxed a bit, glancing at the clock. 6 a.m. Really? So much for a good night's sleep.
Sam was slowly waking and Izzy was still out. Opposite of her master, the dog was a heavy sleeper if she wasn't interested in what was going on. Emma jumped up, wrapping her arms around herself as she stepped toward the door. Dean was still shouting for Sam.
She snatched the door open, meeting Dean's glare with an irritated one of her own. "Chill, dude." She told him, stepping back so he could come in.
"Where's my brother?" Dean demanded, stalking into the room. Emma didn't miss the glance at her wardrobe from him but he seemed much more concerned about his brother's well being than her lack of being covered up. She hurriedly threw on her hoodie that was still hanging on the back of the chair where she put it last night.
"Dean, I'm right here." Sam climbed out of the bed, still in his clothes from the day before. Izzy was awake now and growling softly while looking at Dean.
"Izzy!" Emma hissed and the dog stopped growling but kept a wary eye on the eldest brother.
"What's the problem?" Sam asked a confused look on his face. Dean looked from Emma to Sam, from her bed to the other, then back to Sam. Emma dreaded to think what was going on in his mind right now.
"You stayed here last night?" It was more of an accusation than a question.
"Yea," Sam replied, still confused.
"I woke up, you were gone. I was worried. She still might be a demon you know." Dean pointed a finger in Emma's direction. It was close enough that Emma pushed it away, fighting the urge to rudely roll her eyes.
"Stop sticking your finger in my face." She warned, glaring at him instead.
"She's not, Dean." Sam ignored the exchange. "We talked last night. I think she's okay."
"You talked," Dean was obviously skeptical. "You think she's okay." Sarcasm dripped from every syllable. He looked at her. "Perfect." He was irritated. Remembering why he was there he looked back at Sam. "You slept here?"
"Forgot my key. Didn't want to wake you up."
Dean looked back at Emma. Shaking his head he headed for the open door. "Next time, wake me. I'm going to get dressed. Coffee shop, fifteen minutes." And he was gone.
"Nice brother you have there." Emma told Sam with more than a hint of her own sarcasm.
"Sometimes." Was all Sam said in reply. He also headed for the door. "Fifteen minutes." He reminded her before closing it behind him.
Sam slid into the booth across from his brother. Dean was focused on giving him the silent treatment. Sam was trying to enjoy it while he could. His brother wouldn't be quiet for long. He ordered a coffee, watching Dean stir his own drink absently. Dean looked at his watch, then the clock over the door. He sighed loudly. "Twenty minutes, dude." He said to no one in particular though Sam was the only one in ear shot.
"Just, give her a minute." Sam tried to sound soothing.
"I've given her five!" Dean reminded him forcefully. Sam held up his hands in defense, choosing to let it drop. "This is crazy." Dean added, barely audible.
"I heard her story, last night. Her story isn't far off our own." Sam told him, thanking the waitress that brought him his coffee.
"All the more reason to suspect her, not trust her." Dean leaded forward against the table, trying to press his point. "How can she have a similar story and not be bad news."
"I don't know, Dean. But if she was trying to trick us, I would think she'd go far off in the other direction, not give me my own life story with different characters."
"But now you trust her. So her plan worked."
"Why won't you chill about this?" Sam sighed, taking a big drink from his coffee. It burned his throat but he didn't care. He was going to need all the caffeine he could get to deal with Dean today. He took a drink from one of the three waters on the table that Dean had ordered before he'd gotten there.
"I don't like having to look over my shoulder when I'm working. I'm just picky I guess."
Sam dropped it, not wanting to fight. He saw Emma crossing the street to the diner through the window. "Here she comes." He told Dean before his brother's head exploded.
"You're late." Dean informed her as she slid in the booth next to Sam.
"Sorry, Izzy wasn't really cooperating this morning." She offered in way of an excuse. She ordered an orange juice when the waitress asked her what she wanted. Sam was busy watching Dean who was busy watching Emma. Dean seemed to be waiting for something.
"So, are we going to share what we know about this job so far?" Sam asked, trying to move things along.
"Okay, what do you have?" She asked, picking up her water. Dean looked down at his coffee but Sam could tell he was still watching her. Curious, Sam watched her drink the water too. There was nothing even remotely interesting about that so he looked back at Dean who was now staring out the window. Weird.
"Um," Sam started. Very eloquent. However, in honesty, they didn't have a whole lot on this case yet.
"You first." Dean interrupted, looking at her.
Emma met Dean's gaze with silence for a moment before beginning, staring at him the whole time she spoke. "Three vics in the last two weeks. The only thing they had in common was being from this town and being married. All were violent accidents but located around a central location, a specific road."
"This we know." Dean raised an eyebrow at her, challenging. Emma frowned before continuing.
"Similar deaths occurred in the same area, every five years dating back to the beginning, thirty years ago."
"Boring." Dean fake yawned at her. She pressed her lips together before continuing.
"Over half the victims were known to have been cheating on their spouses, and those are just known ones. So far, I've interviewed the families of the first two victims and they were having affairs. I'm set to talk to the last victim's family today to see what I can get."
Dean took a drink of his coffee. Sam was amused that neither he nor Emma had broken their staring match while talking. "So we're dealing with a lady in white. Easy, we've taken care of that before."
"Hmm," She smiled at him, nodding slightly. "I have a feeling Sam is the brains of this operation."
Dean at least had the good grace to look confused. "What?"
"One would think that, if all the victims were men." She told him pointedly. Dean was silent, unsure of where to go from there. Sam decided it was time to take over.
"So you've talked with the families already?" He asked. She looked at him, her brilliant hazel eyes flashing with a smile when she met his gaze.
"All but the last. Like I said, I'm going over there today."
"So all three of us don't need to do that. Dean and I need to figure out who died on that street and how, to start all this out. You said it started thirty years ago?"
"That's when the first deaths happened, yep." She nodded.
"Sounds like a restless spirit, rather than something out of the ordinary." Sam looked toward Dean.
"Pretty cut and dry, then, when we figure out who it is then." Dean finished his coffee, looking for the waitress for the check. "You're paying for your juice, by the way." He added without looking at Emma. Sam shook his head but she plopped a few dollars on the table for him, rolling her eyes toward Sam with a small smile.
"Alright, I'll call you when I'm done at Mr. Jensen's place." She said, getting out of the booth quickly. She gave them a small wave before heading out toward her rental car.
"You could be nicer." Sam tried.
"You could shut up." Dean countered, watching Emma leave through the window. "Let's go."
"I hate the library." Dean muttered. Sam would laugh except it wasn't the first time he'd heard it.
"It'll be quick, I swear." Sam tried, sitting down at the computer. "Just type in the right key words."
Reluctantly, Dean sat at the computer next to Sam. "What's the name of that street again?" He asked.
"Uh, Willowbranch La-" Sam cut himself off when a flash of light went past his eyes. He felt a tingling in the back of his head. It took him a second but then he knew what was coming. Before he could brace himself, the headache took over and he winced at the sudden onset of pain. Emma's face flashed before his eyes, then the face of a man. They were on a porch of a yellow house.
The vision left but the pain was still there. It wasn't over yet. He heard Dean repeating his name over and over but it seemed distant, as though his brother was shouting to him from across a lake. He couldn't focus on that, all he could focus on was the pain and the pictures that were flashing rapidly through his mind.
The final white, searing hot knife of pain went through his brain and he was in the vision, watching it like you would watch a movie, as an observer with all the right angles. Emma walked to the door, she knocked. This guy answered it. He looked tired and his eyes were dead. Sam couldn't hear what they were saying but he saw them talking. Emma stepped inside his house.
Suddenly he was in the living room. Emma was standing, talking, probably asking questions. She wasn't paying close attention to the man. Sam tried to shout but, it was a vision and the volume was turned totally off in this one. He saw the gun before she did. She was shot before she could run, right in the stomach. Sam watched helplessly as she painfully died, the man standing over her. Sam could suddenly hear what he was saying, only now when it was too late. "Stupid bitches. All the same. Cheating whores."
He was back in the library, Dean's concerned face filling his line of sight. "Sammy?"
Sam tried to sit up but laid back down as his head gave a big throb. There were a few people gathered around, one looked ready to dial 911 on her cell. "No! I'm good, I'm good. Just uh, a migraine." He looked at Dean pointedly and Dean just nodded.
"Alright then, back to the car for your meds," Dean said loudly, helping his brother up. Sam felt an urgency because of his vision and he walked quicker than he should out the library door and to the car.
"We have to stop Emma." Sam said when they were out of ear shot of anyone else. Dean looked concerned but confused.
"Why? Was that a vision?"
"Dean, ask questions later, drive now. We have to hurry." Sam insisted, getting in the car. Surprisingly, Dean obliged, breaking a few speed limit laws to get to where they were going. Between calls to Emma's cell, Sam explained his vision.
"He's going to kill her?" Dean asked, very confused.
"He's messed up Dean, but more over his wife's cheating than her death. He wanted to kill her himself when he found out. Since that opportunity was taken away from him, he's going to lash out at the next girl he sees." Sam wasn't sure how he knew all this, but he did know he was right.
"Emma." Dean's mouth made a tight line and speed up a bit. "Call her again."
"She's not picking up." Sam sighed in frustration but tried her number another time. "Something is very wrong."
Emma paused mid step on the sidewalk, remembering she left her cell phone in the car, hooked to the charger. She debated on going back to get it or continuing on to Mr. Jensen's house. Figuring she wouldn't need it until after the interview, she chose to continue. She had parked down the road to make her cover story of a local reporter more viable. Somehow a rental car just didn't scream local.
She was hoping Sam and Dean would get the history part taken care of. It was kind of nice not to have to do all the work on a job. When you worked alone it was actually a lot of work; splitting it up actually made it almost fun.
The neighborhood was quiet. Willowbranch Lane looked like a typical suburban street with nice lawns and respectable cars in the driveways. Nothing about it screamed restless spirit. Of course, when dealing with the supernatural, nothing was as it seemed. She approached the yellow house, glancing over her shoulder at the sound of squealing tires down the road. No car was in her line of sight. Dismissing the sound, she walked up to the front door and knocked.