Chapter Seven
Thomas Parker stood in the small room of his home, up the stairs and toward the back of the house, the smallest room that held the biggest of secrets, the alter was made from things he would have scoffed and laughed at, called voodoo and walked away from. Not now though, now he knew the power that so few had wielded over so many.
The first night after Megan's death, as he had sat vigil over his wife in the hospital, waiting for her to awaken to refute the claims of witnesses that she had deliberately aimed her car into a wall, he had sat and felt icy fingers tracing lines across his hands. A cool breath on his neck, the cold in competition with the warmth of his baby's presence near him. He'd known then that she wasn't gone, but he hadn't believed it until three months later, while sitting in his new house, sitting and trying to organise broken thoughts into something cohesive to hold to and continue forward, ignoring the many phone calls from Hope, begging him to forgive her, begging him to come home, threatening him with her life. Didn't she realise that she should be the one dead and buried in the cemetery and not his little girl? He had sat there watching a home movie of Megan's sixth birthday party, his happy little girl running, screaming with laughter as he had chased her around the garden with cake, caught her and covered her in the sticky substance, her laughter giving way to hysterics as their faithful dog , Megan's faithful dog, had licked her clean and given chase once again around the garden. That dog had loved her as much as Thomas had, he'd made sure that Denny had been buried with is daughter, even in death the two would be together. Hope had made sure of that.
That night he'd heard a tapping on the window, a cold wind through the house, a whisper in his ear.
Daddy help me, Daddy I'm stuck, I can't get out.
Sitting up straight Thomas had strained his ears, the cold blew through the house again and rested on his hand, his hand holding the empty whiskey glass, had it not been for the frosting appearing on the outside he would have sworn the alcohol was playing tricks on his mind. Small finger prints appeared, a transparent hand wrapped it's tiny fingers around his own.
Daddy help me, I don't want to be dead. Am I really dead Daddy?
"Oh baby, oh my sweet sweet baby"
Daddy why are you crying?
"Daddy misses you baby, he really does"
Why?
"Mummy took you to the angels, oh baby Mummy took you away from me"
But I'm here Daddy , I'm right here.
Thomas had shaken himself and stood, determined to make his way to the sanctuary of sleep and the absence of pain, even if it was just for a few short hours. He was sure it was the whiskey playing games with him. Until he saw her, standing between him and the stairs.
"Megan?"
Yes Daddy?
"Megan? Is that really you?"
Who else would it be silly?
Her laughter was music to his ears, soothing the ache in his soul, dousing the flames with a liquid so sweet and pure he was powerless to resist.
She'd stayed with him, through all those months, they'd played together, they'd slept side by side, kept each other company.
As the days past Thomas had begun to look into ways to make it right, to bring her back, to make her whole again, make her his. His search had led him to a backwater town in Louisiana, where an old medicine man had instructed him on ways to keep her with him, keep his daughter close and forever young. But it hadn't worked, not as it should have. He'd done everything right, of that he was sure. They had been so excited as the last piece of the puzzle was placed on the table in the small back room , there they had waited, side by side, transparent hand tracing cold lines across his warm, pulse ridden palm.
Daddy? I don't feel no different. When's it going to work?
"Soon Baby"
Daddy it's not working, Daddy it's not fair! I want to live ! DADDY MAKE ME LIVE!
As his only child had broken down in hysterical sobs Thomas had reached forward to grab her, for a fleeting second he felt her hand on his, actually felt it, then it was gone, replaced by the cold feeling of small fingers on his skin. As he reached forward again, hoping for another feel of his child, he felt tears tracing their way down his face, melting into his skin, some escaping and dropping onto the floor below, he looked at the blackness of the tears and his heart constricted. He gasped and fell forward, fingers clenched in his t-shirt, desperately trying to stop the pain as his heart shrank a size but beat all the more faster.
Daddy? What's wrong? DADDY WHAT'S WRONG?
"It's ok baby, Daddy's ok, he just needs a second"
The pain began to recede but Thomas clung to the floor as his vision swam, his veins began to bulge through his skin, the black tears of soot tracing more lines across his being.
He took a deep breath and willed the feeling away. After what seemed like hours he opened his eyes, Megan was crouched away from him, her small hands hiding her face, yet through the fingers she watched him, fearful in what she saw.
Daddy was black, covered in soot, Daddy looked like Denny, he'd gone from gold to black and she didn't know why. He'd been gold but when Mummy drove the car, yelling at her to stop crying and be a good girl, he'd been covered in flames and had gone black.
Daddy why are you black? Are you like Denny now? Like me?
"I…I don't know baby, I don't think so, something went wrong, Daddy was trying to make it right but…I don't know baby. Oh baby don't cry, don't cry sweetpea, Daddy's going to make it right"
NO! No you can't , I'm dead aren't I Daddy? Why aren't there angels? Daddy where are my angels? Where's the baby like in the picture at Grandma's? Daddy why didn't Mummy love me?
Thomas stopped shaking, stopped his panic and felt the pain evaporate. Hope, Hope had done this to them, she'd caused this, she'd wanted to kill herself yet had killed Megan instead, and what was he left with? The ghost of a child, nothing more than a mist. He couldn't even hold her, couldn't feel her breath on his neck as he sung her to sleep at night, couldn't feel her tiny feet as they entwined with his, couldn't feel anything. She'd wanted to die, she wants to die, she has to die.
"Baby, come with Daddy, we need to go see Mummy"
But I'm scared of Mummy
"She can't hurt you anymore sweetpea, but we need to talk to her"
Teach her a lesson, teach her it's not nice to hurt people
"Yes baby"
Why did mummy get to live? She died, she should have stayed dead.
"And this time she will baby, this time she will"
They stood outside Hope's house, stood outside and watched as she lived, as she breathed, as she walked and felt and touched. Megan had drifted over to the window, knocked and drifted out of view as Hope had run to see who it was.
The second night Megan had stood in the street, had allowed Hope to run to her, had watched as Mummy fell to her knee's, sobbing and crying and saying how sorry she was.
The third night Megan had run down the street, Mummy running in front of her, screaming at her, telling her she was dead. Was she dead? Daddy said that until there were angels that she was still his.
The fourth night Megan had gone into the house and with her little knife had cut Hope's arm, had awoken her mother from her fitful, valium induced sleep and led her out into the street, Thomas had stood before her, his plan was to send her insane, she wanted to die? Then she would do, he'd watched as she walked slowly toward him, her blood dripping slowly down her arm from the gash , he'd seethed with anger, seeing this woman living and breathing while his daughter was dead, as his anger grew the tears of soot increased, bled out from his eyes and took flight into the night sky, tracing a path through the air and entering Hope through the cut on her arm, her body held it's stance yet her eyes betrayed her fear and panic as the blackness coursed through her veins, bulging in the skin and constricting her heart. The pain was immense, she had no control over her body, over her sounds yet inside she was begging for the end. If this was how it was to be then she'd go, she deserved to be punished, she deserved to be killed. As the blackness engulfed her body a white light surrounded her and seeped into every pour, she watched in horror as her fingers began to turn in on themselves, the nails pulling back and bunching up under the fingers, her bones snapping and crumbling into tiny pieces inside her body, her ribs folding in on themselves and impaling her organs, the tissue, the muscle, the skin all constricting and shrinking, the last thing to go were her eyes, her eyes which held the triumphant looks of her husband and daughter, and then they too were taken by the light and taken by the soot until all that remained of her was her dead daughter and two black footprints on the street.
A knock at the door brought Thomas back to the present. He shook himself of the memory and walked to the top of the stairs, two figures could be seen through the opaque glass of the front door, Megan hid behind the door to her room, her small hands grasping wood she couldn't feel.
What's that? Who's here?
"I don't know baby, but you stay here until I say it's ok?"
Ok Daddy. I'll be a good girl I promise
"That's my sweetpea"
Thomas opened the front door and greeted the two men before him with a false smile.
"Can I help you?"
"We're with the FBI Sir, I'm Agent DeVille this is Agent Michaels, we need to ask you some questions about your wife"
"I'm not married"
"Ex Wife then. Can we come in?"
Thomas regarded the Agent, stole a look behind at the taller of the two and reluctantly beckoned them inside.
"What is it you want?"
"Just a few routine questions regarding your wife, ex wife's, disappearance. That's all"
"I'm not sure what I can tell you, I hadn't seen her in so long I doubt I have anything useful to say"
Sam sat down and scanned the room as Dean spoke to Thomas, the house felt closed off, as if the windows and doors were kept tightly shut. There were no pictures on the walls or ornaments of any kind, the whole place seemed desolate, but then that was how it felt to lose someone, Sam knew that all too well. He resisted the urge to smirk as Dean said no to coffee. How would he feel toward a woman who had killed his daughter? Sam wasn't sure that he would act rationally. To think that a mother killed her daughter, it wasn't a far stretch to imagine the father wanting to kill the mother.
"So you hadn't heard from her since you told her you'd get a restraining warrant?"
"That's right, she kept calling, wouldn't stop."
Dean nodded and then turned to Sam, flicked his eyes and turned back to Thomas.
"I'm sorry sir, but may I use your bathroom?"
Thomas caught his panic before it had a chance to manifest across his features. He couldn't arouse suspicion, couldn't have their work stopped before it had really begun. He knew he had to trust that Megan would remain hidden. His good, obedient, beautiful little girl.
"Sure, up the stairs, first door on the right"
"Thank you sir"
Dean stood and left as Sam began to ask more questions about Hope's state of mind.
He slowly climbed the stairs while pulling the EMF meter from his pocket, the device instantly came to life and was quickly switched off before Thomas heard the sound from the living room.
Yup, definitely something in this house.
Slowly he made his way into each room, starting with the front bedroom, bare except for the bed and a wardrobe. This guy was minimalist. Into the second bedroom and Dean found a room full of toys.
Considering how lacking in character and personal touch the rest of the house was this room took him by surprise, there were toys of every description strewn across the floor, a bunk bed up against one wall and fluffy toys across the mattress. The wallpaper was classic Disney, Donald and Mickey across the walls, if it wasn't for the dust that coated each toy and teddy bear Dean would have believed that a child spent every day in here playing happily.
He made his way back to the hall and walked toward the back room, pushing the door open slightly he peered around into the blackness, the window had been painted to stop any light from entering, he felt around the wall for a switch and then stood back as the table came into view. Across the entire expanse were vials of blood, pictures of a child smiling, a lock of hair, symbols and incantations written into the wood, crosses with carvings no priest would allow and a small handprint on each corner of the surface. Standing by the table was a transparent little girl, regarding him with a look of intrigue.
Who are you?
"I'm Dean, are you Megan?"
How do you know my name? She asked shyly, looking down and swaying on her feet.
"I know your Daddy"
No you don't
"What are you doing up here? Why don't you come down and talk with us?"
Dean put on his best I'm-a-friendly-stranger-face and motioned toward the door.
I can't
"Why not?"
Not allowed.
"I'm sure just this once it would be alright"
Daddy will get mad at you
"Why?"
You should be dead.
Dean's breath caught in his throat as a cold seeped into his bones.
"What?"
You, you died didn't you? You should be dead. Why aren't you dead?
"I guess it wasn't my time"
It will be
Crap, double crap with a side of shit. Dean was in trouble and he knew it. He smiled and backed slowly out of the room, the ghost of Megan didn't advance, didn't move an inch, she just stood there, smiling at him. His heart beat quickened and he suddenly felt an urge to run screaming from the house.
He quickly made his way down the stairs and back into the living room.
"Well I guess we've taken up enough of your time sir"
Sam was about to argue that they had more questions when he caught the look in Dean's eyes, the paleness of his face. He was freaked. Dean was freaked and needed to leave the house.
"Yeah, erm… we've taken more than enough of your time sir, thanks for all your help"
"No bother, like I said, I hadn't seen her in so long, I can't tell you anything that would help"
As they walked down the steps Dean's pace quickened and Sam had to almost run to catch up, they drove down the street in silence. Sam glancing at Dean who seemed to be lost in thought, his face was covered with a fine sheen of sweat even though he was shivering visibly and his fingers gripped the wheel with a vice like strength. Suddenly he veered the car over to the side, ignoring the shouts and horns of the other drivers.
They sat in the idling car by the side of the street in silence, the only noise Dean's breathing that he was still fighting to control.
"Dean?"
He stared ahead, he stared ahead and tried to rid himself of the feeling of cold seeping through his bones and into his heart.
"Dean" Forceful this time, little brother was scared. But Dean couldn't look at him, why hadn't he told him? Why hadn't he said? He'd suspected but having your suspicions confirmed by a dead little girl kinda freaked a guy out.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"What?" Sam turned in his seat to give his brother his full attention.
"Why didn't you tell me I died?"
Sam's face scrunched for a second, then it hit him like a semi at full speed.
"What did she say to you?"
"Not much, some stuff about her Daddy being mad and me being dead soon, the usual"
"Dean"
"Sam why didn't you tell me?"
"What was the point? Why did you need to know?"
Dean looked at Sam for the first time and felt his anger dissipate, his face relaxed a little. Sam was right, what was the point of him knowing, but still, it was a pretty major thing to not mention.
"You should have said"
"When? When should I have told you that your heart stopped while we waited for the paramedics? That they had to shock you back? Should I have said it while you were in the hospital or while we were driving to Nebraska? Or should I have mentioned it as we left there? Dean it doesn't matter, it's not something you needed to know and to be honest it wasn't something I wanted to admit"
Dean turned to Sam, his Sammy, he tried to protect him against so much, he began to realise why Sam hadn't said, he'd come so close to being alone, they still didn't know where Dad was and Sam had come close to losing Dean, had lost him in fact. Only he'd come back, been brought back, saved , twice.
"Sorry man, it's just, it was a bit of a shock hearing it come from a dead girl"
"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry too"
"I really died?"
"Your heart stopped as the paramedics arrived and they pushed me out of the way while they massaged your heart and then shocked you back, it took two goes you know. I've never been so scared" Sam willed his voice to not break, to stay strong for Dean while big brother had his freak out, but the welling of his eyes betrayed him.
"God Sam I'm sorry"
"It wasn't your fault. Just, never do that again ok?"
"Yeah, ok"
The brothers both laughed as the tension began to melt away slightly.
"Dean?"
"Yeah Sam?"
"We just had another moment"
"Oh for the love of god"
Dean steered the car back onto the main street and headed toward Shelley's house.
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