"You're kidding," she said blankly.
When Dean didn't reply, Magda huffed and knelt on the ground, "This is bullshit," she muttered. She was still mumbling expletives under her breath as she wriggled through the tiny opening. But after a couple of minutes, Sam and Dean heard the lock click and the door swung open to reveal a pissed-off looking Magda.
"Thanks?" Sam and Dean tried hopefully.
"Shut up."
She turned her back on them and marched into the house; she stared up at the high ceilings and scanned the room and its lavish furniture with disgust.
"What are we even looking for?" she asked, kicking the leg of a sofa.
"Anything," Sam said distractedly, flicking through his mail, "Anything useful."
"I found something useful," Magda said, opening the fridge, "Want one?" She held out a bottle of beer, still digging through the contents.
"Maggie! Put it back!" Sam hissed, running over.
She popped the cap off the bottle, "Winchester!" she called, "Want a beer?"
Dean poked his head round the corner, she tossed the bottle to him, and he caught it effortlessly, "Thanks," he said, disappearing into the living room again.
"Dean!" Sam scolded, "Maggie, he's gonna notice!"
"Sweetheart, by tonight this guy's gonna know ghosts exist," she said, sipping daintily at her beer, "A couple of bottles missing from his fridge is gonna be the least of his worries."
Sam sighed in defeat and left the kitchen with Magda in tow. Dean was shuffling through a folder left on the coffee table.
"Got something?" asked Sam, looking over his shoulder.
"Not sure…" Dean muttered, still reading, "It's just details from some business deal he made." Dean flicked the folder shut, "I wanna know where he got all this cash from in the first place. I mean, the guy's younger than me," he pondered, looking round the room, "Kid must be saving his allowance."
"He inherited it," Magda said from the sofa, her feet propped up on the table, "When his Dad died. He and his brother got 50 million each."
"Damn," Dean said, impressed.
"Well, apart from that, we got nothing on this guy," Sam said in disappointment
"He's friggin' boring," Magda said, uninterested.
"I can't figure out the spirit's motive," Sam mused, "Why is it punishing these people?"
"Who cares?" Dean and Magda said in unison, exchanging startled glances afterwards.
"We need to know what we're up against," Sam said, trying to pull Magda out of the seat.
As they walked to the door, Dean argued, "But we know it's a spirit, if we just load the guns full of rock salt and pack some iron, we're good to go."
"Yeah, I guess," Sam said, unconvinced.
"If we get a good look at the thing tonight, it'll help us id the ship," Magda added, "If we id the ship we know what we need to burn. I'd rather just burn one thing this time. I don't need another case of arson on my record."
Laughing, as they reached the gate, "You need a leg-up?" Sam offered.
"Ta," she said, placing her foot in Sam's entwined fingers. Sam easily pushed her high enough for her to swing her leg over the gate and land lightly on the other side. In the ride back to the motel, Magda was quiet. She leaned against the window and watched the world whip by in silence. Dean caught Sam's worried gaze in the rear-view mirror.
"Uh, Maggie? You okay?" Sam asked anxiously.
She jumped and straightened suddenly in her seat, "What? Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," she said quickly.
Dean parked outside their motel room and Magda stumbled out of the car. Sam unlocked the door and held it open for her and his brother. She fell into the chair and rubbed her eyes.
"Hey, do us a favour, Sweetheart, and make some coffee?" she said, stifling a yawn.
Sam sighed. "You're crashing," he said, "That's what's wrong with you."
"There's a hell of a lot more wrong with me, believe me," she said tiredly, eyes closed, "This is just the tip of the iceberg."
"You need sleep." Dean said.
"I need caffeine."
"When's the last time you slept?" Sam asked, inspecting her.
"I don't know," she whined, irritably, "Three, four days?"
Sam shook his head, "It's not healthy."
"Hasn't done me much harm."
"You're exhausted," Sam argued.
"I'm fine," she yawned, eyeing up the coffee pot.
"Just get a couple hours in," Dean said evenly, checking his watch, "We're not leaving again 'till 9ish."
Magda looked hopelessly at the two brothers, "But…" she stammered. Dean continued to stare her out but Sam caught her scared gaze. And he understood.
"We'll wake you up," he said softly.
She bit her lip, "Okay," she said eventually, "But I'm only doing this for you, Sweetheart."
Sam smiled. He'd heard that before.
She kicked off her shoes and curled into a little ball on the bed closest to the door, tucking her gun carefully under the pillow. Within seconds she was snoring softly, the relief of sleep had softened her young face. She looked so sweet and innocent, the freckles on her face lost beneath the dark circles under her eyes.
"Dude, her feet are tiny," Dean whispered, holding up her shoes.
Sam rolled his eyes and settled onto his bed, dismantling and cleaning his gun but still keeping a watchful eye on the sleeping form next to him. For about two hours, Magda slept soundly, her breathing deep and steady. Then she shifted her position and flipped onto her other side, facing Sam. Her peaceful expression had vanished and now she was frowning and muttering nonsensically under her breath. Sam put down his gun and watched her nervously.
"Dean," he whispered, nodding towards her, "Should we wake her up?"
Dean observed her for a couple of seconds over the top of his magazine, "She seems okay," he said, fairly, disappearing behind Busty Asian Beauties again, "She's just talking in her sleep."
"Mum…" she mumbled.
Dean looked at Sam; they were uncomfortable, as though they were overlooking something private.
"She's fine," Dean said uncertainly.
"Dad," she said, tossing and turning.
"She doesn't have a dad..." Sam said slowly.
"I can see why you went for law and not biology," Dean said dryly.
"Dad," she said again, "Not Katie." She sounded scared. Her breathing was jerky and uneven.
"We gotta wake her up," said Sam, pushing himself off the bed and approaching her cautiously. "Um, Maggie?" he said tentatively.
"Not Katie!" she said louder, "You promised!" She was thrashing wildly on top of the covers, screaming like an animal in pain.
"Sam, do something!" Dean said, standing up.
"Maggie!" Sam yelled, shaking her about the shoulders. "Maggie wake u -," Sam was suddenly cut off by Magda's fist colliding with the side of his face. In the same instant that Sam was forced off of the bed, landing with a thud, both Magda and Dean had pulled their guns. Dean had his gun aimed steadily over Magda's heart but his eyes were flickering to where his little brother lay in a heap. Panting and wide-eyed, Magda gulped and appeared to finally take in her surroundings. She lowered her gun shakily and held her hands up to Dean, whose gun stayed raised. Taking a deep breath, she frowned and ran her hand through her hair, "Shit," she mumbled, "Shit, Sam…"
She got off the bed and Dean followed her, tensing up when she reached for Sam's shoulder but relaxing a little when Sam stirred and sat up groaning.
"Sam?" he said throwing his gun onto the bed and kneeling down, "Sammy, you okay?"
Sam sat back against the wall rubbed his head, "What the hell?" he said, disorientated. His lip was split and a bruise was forming on his right cheekbone, he had a cut above his eyebrow, bleeding sluggishly where he'd apparently knocked his head on the windowsill.
"Crap," Magda swore, gently holding his chin and moving his face to assess the damage, "Shit. Fuck. Bollocks."
"W – Wh – What," Sam stumbled, his eyes unfocused.
"He hit his head," Magda told Dean anxiously, not meeting his gaze.
"Because you went friggin' psycho chick," Dean spat, "Move."
Whilst Magda stood up and nipped to the kitchen, scraping crushed ice from the freezer into a tea towel and twisting the ends into a knot, Dean inspected his brother.
"Hey, how many fingers am I holding up?" he asked gently, watching Sam's pupils dilate.
"Two," Sam said, starting to stand up.
"Whoa, take it easy," Dean said, pushing him back down, "You hit your head on the corner, man."
"I'm okay," he said, wiping the blood from his lip.
"Here," Magda said, from across the room, holding up the makeshift icepack.
"Thanks," Sam said, taking it from her and pressing it to his face, "You've got one hell of a right hook." The half of his face that was visible was grinning.
Magda gave a wan smile, "Thanks," she said sheepishly, "You're, um," she gestured to Sam, "You're missing the, uh, the worst of it." She approached him hesitantly and when he didn't back away, she took the icepack and moved it a couple of inches to where the worst of the bruising was. His cheek was shiny and slowly turning purple and there was a lump swelling above his eyebrow. Sam winced slightly at the movement but gave a soft little moan as she pressed down, the ice cooling the burning sensation.
Magda lifted up the towel and took in the damage, "Shit," she sighed, "Shit, Sam, I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Sam smiled.
"Are you kidding?" Dean fumed, "'Okay?' This bitch nearly took your friggin' head off!"
Magda bristled up, "Listen Winchester, I didn't mean to hit Sam but if you call me a bitch one more time, I've got no problem with sending you straight through that fucking window."
She turned back to Sam and Dean glared at the back of her head.
"What was that?" Sam asked quietly.
"I don't know," Magda said, pulling the icepack away, "Instinct?"
Dean snorted, "Someone tries to wake you up and your 'instinct' is to try and kill them?"
Madga tensed her body; seeing this, Sam reprimanded Dean, "Hey, come on, it's just a bump. The windowsill really did most of the damage and it wasn't even her fault, it was mine..."
"I've been on my own for 9 years," Magda said quietly, cutting off Sam's rambling, "Yeah. That's my instinct."
Magda sighed and helped up Sam onto the bed, "So I guess naptime's over, huh?" she said pulling on her shoes, "Thank God."
"Yeah," Sam replied, checking his watch, "Tyson should be coming back into town any minute." Sam observed Magda anxiously, "So, uh, what did you dream about?"
"Sunshine and lollipops," she quipped, tying her laces.
Dean laughed venomously, "My ass you did," he spat.
"I think you'd find that'd qualify as a nightmare, Princess," she smirked, throwing her duffel bag over her shoulder and opening the door.
"Alright, you know what?" Dean snarled, grabbing her shoulder and roughly spinning her round.
"What?" she snapped.
"Guys, come on, not again," Sam said anxiously.
"You think you can just show up, make a few jokes and we'll just let the fact that we have no idea who you are slide?" Dean said slamming the door back shut. "We don't know you!"
"You know what, Winchester, you've obviously got something to say so why don't you grow a pair and say it to my face instead of bitching about me to baby bro, huh?" she fumed.
"I don't trust you, okay!" Dean shouted back, unfazed as to how Magda had overheard his and Sam's argument, "I didn't trust you to start with and I sure as hell don't trust you now you've started 'accidentally' throwing punches for no good goddamn reason!"
"Well, hey, right now you're giving me plenty of reasons to start throwing punches and this time it won't be an accident."
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"You really want to open that door?" she said sarcastically.
"You know, I really think I do," Dean said throwing the duffel at Sam's feet who watched on nervously, "How'd you get like this, huh? What, Daddy not give you enough hugs?"
Magda instantly swung at Dean, breathing heavily. Dean staggered backwards, hand to his mouth; when he lifted his head Sam saw him wipe blood from his lip.
"Whoa!" Sam said in shock, walking towards them, but neither paid attention.
"I don't know," she said quietly, her expression dark, her eyes hard, "Your Daddy give you enough?"
"Bitch," Dean spat.
There was a tense silence. Dean smiled cockily as Magda tilted her head; replaying in her head what he had just said. Then she grinned.
"God, I was hoping you'd say that."
Dean's smile faltered and he glanced uncertainly at his brother. He had barely turned back to face her before he was tackled to the ground in a blur of denim and curly hair. Magda straddled Dean, managing to land three good punches to his face before Dean finally retaliated and backhanded her off of him. She scrambled back to her feet, cheek scarlet from the slap, spitting hair out of her mouth and seething with rage.
"Dean-," Sam broke in, in shock but retreated at Magda's glare.
"You wanna know who I am?" She bellowed at Dean, eyes wild, "I'll tell you who I am! I'm the girl who saved your life!" she yelled, "Twice!"
"Why?" Dean shouted.
"Because I'm a nice person," Magda snarled, launching a mug at him; Dean ducked and it shattered against the wall, inches from where his head was seconds before.
"Hey-!" Sam interjected helplessly.
"Clearly," Dean said viciously, catapulting the empty whiskey bottle across the room. Madga, who had inadvertently avoided concussion as she bent down to search for further projectiles, gave a snort of indignation at his overly sarcastic tone. Finding nothing but a pillow, she tossed it aside in disgust and stormed towards Dean, who was panting heavily, shoulders heaving.
"ENOUGH!" Sam bellowed, catching Magda's arm and pulling her away from his brother. He stood between them, taking in his brother's split lip and concealing a wince at Magda's bruised face.
"Right," Magda said coldly, "Enough." She wrenched herself free from Sam's grasp and snatched up her jacket, "I'm outta here." She strode across the room, kicking as many of Dean's possessions out of the way she possibly could before slamming the door behind her. The slam's echo rang out in the silent room. Sam started towards the door.
"I swear to God, if you go after her," Dean said in a low, deadly voice, "don't bother coming back."
Sam hesitated. He retracted his hand from the doorknob. He stepped back.