AN: Sorry about the delay y'all. Craziness. I thought I'd let you know a little about my plans for this story. I know it's close to the pilot right now, but I have big plans and I will be much more original in later parts. But I'm starting that right now. As always, reviews make it go faster and keep me going. Again, I own nothing but Rose and an Audry Hepburn hat that would look good on her.

Joe was washing dishes when he heard the insistent knocking starting up. "I'm coming," he called, drying his hands and starting toward his door. He opened it and found two strangers, a tall young man and a shy looking young woman.

"Hi uh, are you Joseph Welch?" The young man asked.

"Yeah."

"I'm Sam Marshall and this is Rose Tucker, we'd like to ask you a couple of questions if that's ok." Joe just shrugged and led the way into his living room. Sam and he sat on the couch, while Rose went to stand by the mantle. It was easier to see everything and she was a curious girl. Sam handed Joe a picture of John Winchester. "Did this man come to see you?"

"Yeah," Joe answered. "He came by three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter."

"That's right," Sam agreed, glad to have a line to go by. "We're working on a story together."

"Well I don't know what the hell kind of story you're working on," Joe said indignantly, "the questions he asked me."

"About your late wife Constance?" Sam probed, trying to be a little more subtle than his dad had probably been.

"He asked me where she was buried."

"And where is that again?" Sam asked.

Joe was starting to look a little pissed off. "What, I got to go through these twice?"

"It's fact checking," Rose said soothingly, "if you don't mind, Sir."

Joe nodded, almost magically put more at ease by the sweet tone. "In a plot behind my old place over on Breckenridge."

"Why did you move?"

Rose could see the whole thing blowing up in their faces at her brother's rather insensitive handling of the situation. Really, guys were hopeless. But Joe seemed more sad than anything when he answered. "I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died."

"Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?" At least that one seemed like a semi-appropriate question for an article on the effects of suicides on family members. (Which was what Rose had decided their article was about should Joe actually care to ask).

"No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known." There was something a little off about his answer, like he was trying to prove a point and not just answer a question.

Sam picked up on that too. "So you had a happy marriage?" he asked, pushing just a bit harder.

This time, there was an actual hesitation before he answered. "Definitely." It didn't sound very definite to either of the Winchesters.

"Well that should do it," Sam said. "Thanks for your time." He started to walk back towards the door, but then he noticed Rose wasn't following him.

He saw her still standing by the mantle, a family photo in her hands. It looked like she was concentrating hard on something. Suddenly, all the color drained from her face and she collapsed slightly, holding onto the mantle for support. Concerned, Sam took a step toward her, but she waved him away, mouthing, "Give me a minute."

Joe was looking at him curiously, not having seen Rose's strange actions. "Mr. Welch, you ever hear of a Woman in White?" Sam only asked it to buy time and that was the first thing he could think of.

"A what?" It worked. Joe was distracted.

"A Woman in White, or sometimes a Weeping Woman. It's a ghost story. Well it's more of a phenomenon really." Now that he'd started, Sam decided to just explain the whole thing. Who knew, maybe he'd get some kind of reaction. "Um, they're spirits. They've been cited for hundreds of years. Dozens of places; in Hawaii and Mexico. Lately in Arizona and Indiana. All these are different women, you understand. But all share the same story."

Joe's reaction was to get angry. "Boy I don't care much for nonsense."

But Sam was danged and determined to finish his explanation. "You see, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children. Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed. Walking back roads, waterways, and if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him, and that man is never seen again."

"You think-You think that has something to do with Constance?" Joe stared at Sam as if he were a lunatic before the look of anger with which Sam was readily becoming quite familiar replaced it. "You smart-ass".

"You tell me," Sam replied, keeping his tone even.

"I mean maybe—maybe I made some mistakes, but no matter what I did, Constance would never have killed her own children!"

"I know," Rose said, interrupting Joe mid-rant. "It was an accident. But she only left them alone in the tub because she found a lipstick stain on your shirt. You two were fighting while your children drowned."

Joe's face turned ashy. "How did you...?" He pointed them toward the door. "Now you get the hell out of here, and you don't come back!"

They left the house and Sam turned to his sister while he was opening the car door. "How the hell did you know that, Rose?"

She shrugged and slid into her seat. "If I concentrate on an object, sometimes I see stuff connected to the people who own it, stuff they associate with that object. Just another way I'm weird I guess."

Sam couldn't exactly tell her it was normal to see both past and future. So he glossed over that point and asked "does it hurt? It looked like it."

"It's..." she frowned, searching for the right word. "It's like my brain twists or something. What I see, it's usually sort of muted and dull looking, like a really old home movie. So, it's a bit of an overload when I come back to the present." She could see Sam opening his mouth to ask more questions and held up her hand. "Please, Sam, let's just go save Dean then we can all go and discuss my freakishness together. OK?" She smiled when he nodded and leaned her head against the window, eyes closed.

Sam was quiet for about half a mile, trying to find the right way to say what he needed to. "Look, Rose, what I said about Mom and Dad, on the bridge. I'm sorry."

"I know," she said lightly. "I forgave you already." She sat up straight. "Can I confess something?"

"Sure."

"I think Dean was right. To be one of us, you have to be a hunter."

A pang went through him. "Rose, he loves you, he wants you in the family. I'm betting that he spent half his days wondering what you were doing and how you were and if you were eating enough."

"I know that, I'll apologize when we get him out of jail." She ran her hand through her hair in a nervous gesture Sam realized she had picked up from him. It made him smile a little. "But I meant, I've been sneaking out of school and, well, hunting things. It all started two years ago with a poltergeist actually in my school and then it was the vengeful spirits in a local house then the were-wolf one town over. You get the picture."

"What?" Sam couldn't help his voice raising. "You went hunting, at fourteen, with no backup! How could you be that stupid!"

"Yeah, Sam, I know, but I wanted to, you know, make you guys proud of me..." she trailed off and looked at him with puppy dog eyes.

"We are." Dean was the one who ruffled her hair, Sammy put his hand on the back of her neck and squeezed gently. "But it was still stupid!"

"I know, I know. Kick my butt about it later." She slapped his shoulder, big smile plastered on her face. "Now let's go spring our big brother from jail."