AN: Chapter thirteen, as promised, a bit more action oriented. Also, I am happy to announce that this is now my most reviewed fanfiction. :) Which makes me happy.

Chapter Thirteen

December 13

Sarah looked up from her seat in the car, glancing worriedly at the run down house which stood in front of them. Half the windows were smashed in; parts of it had graffiti sprayed in large black swirls in lower, easy to reach places. The windows which were not broken were caked with dirt, obscuring anything which was occurring inside from people walking by. Paint peeled from its railings and there was a slight overall discolouration which sent chills running through Sarah. Of course, the chills might also be from knowing that there was a murderous ghost in there.

Earlier that day, they had driven over sand and salt covered roads to the Willowdale Retirement Center. A low lying, single story home which kept fresh flowers on their counters and smelt like a hospital. Once there, Sarah had insisted on being honest. She had told the secretary she had wanted to speak with William. The middle aged lady had been overjoyed at the sight of four young bodies being friends of Willy, as she called him.

"Well, well, if it isn't the pretty lady," William had greeted, clapping his veined hands in delight. Opening them wide, she had returned his hug in earnest.

"How can I stay away from such an amazing story teller?" Sarah had asked.

"And where is your beau? Cal was it?" William asked, walking over to Cas, who stood as stoic as ever. "Nah, I remember. I might be old, but the cog is still turning, thank the lord for that one. Cas, good to see you, young man."

Shaking his hand in delight, William then turned to the rest of the group.

"And you've brought a group!"

"I hope you don't mind," Sarah said, sitting down in one of the chairs in the 'music room' as it had been labelled. Even though, the only musical thing in the entire room was a piano which seemed to have a thin layer of dust on it. "I was so eager to hear the rest about 21 Daniels that I simply had to stop by before we had to leave. These are Sam, Dean and Katie – the ones I told you about."

"I see, well, what would you like to know about the old homestead?" William asked, also taking a seat beside Sarah.

"You were talking about when it was a speakeasy and that a tragedy kind of closed the joint down," Sarah prompted. "I would love to hear he story."

"Well," William started, obviously enjoying the audience. "It was nineteen-twenty-three. I was only four, but it was my Uncle who was running the bootleg operation. One of these thugs they'd hired was real nasty – One-Eyed Lucy is what they called him."

"I'm sorry, One-Eyed Lucy?" Dean interrupted.

"Yeah, I think his name was Luke or something, but see, he was missing his left eye. Never said how it happened, but he was a mean sonofagun. He was in charge of making sure the liquor got to 21 Daniels with no problem and let's just say his partners had a habit of vanishing. He ran that gig for four years, after they passed the bill in 1919 – my birthday actually. And then, on a cold December night, he disappeared himself." William said with relish.

"Disappeared?" Sam prompted, eagerly leaning forward.

William nodded sagely. "Oh yes, but there was lots of speculation, but one thing everyone was sure of was that he was arguing with my aunt that night, right in front of the bar. Out charges my uncle and they get in a fist fight, now no one saw how the fight ended, but old One-Eyed Lucy was never heard from again."

"What do you think happened to his body?" Dean asked.

"Well, I don't know for sure," William said, "but it is a bit suspicious that the place was undergoing construction at the time, if you catch my drift. Yes, I remember my older brother Danny telling me that he was in the very walls. But, he might have just been trying to scare me – you know how brothers are."

Sam and Dean both nodded in agreement.

"So, enough of this gruesome story, were you able to try some hot chocolate finally Cas?" William asked happily.

"Yes," Castiel replied. "It was delicious."

And so the five of them had left the retirement home, and driven straight to the house. Sarah looked up at it with trepidation. Katie and she had kept her promise; they stayed in the car as the guys went in to kill some evil. Sarah had never fought anything in her life. She didn't even know how to throw a punch, so it seemed that the smartest, sanest thing to do would be to wait outside the creepy building.

"Oh god, I am bored and cold," Katie complained, flipping through the file that Sam had left with them. It contained all the information on the victims, some of which looked very professional and not public-viewing material.

"Something seems wrong with all this," Sarah said, feeling very uneasy looking at the house.

"Feeling a bit queasy at the thought of them burning a corpse?" Katie asked. "Like, for real, not just television burn a corpse."

"No," Sarah said truthfully, she hadn't really thought of it. Now that it was real, it was a bit more disgusting. "No ... all the victims were women right?"

"Yep," Katie said, glancing at the contents of the file. "Found the next day hanging in the window, or leaning against the window with their necks slit, or this one was bashed in the head repeatedly before being placed in the window. Huh, wonder if his body is near the window."

"Katie, if you were walking by here, why the hell would you go into this house?" Sarah asked.

"No way in hell would I go in there," Katie said, also looking at the house. Frowning, she seemed to catch onto what Sarah was saying. "So why would these women go into the house?"

To both of their horror, the radio in the impala turned itself on, picking up static.

"Oh god, what do we do?" Sarah asked, grabbing hold of Katie's coat.

"I don't know. Stay in the car?" Katie said.

"Right, because if this was a show and I saw us leave, I would be screaming we were idiots at the screen," Sarah reasoned.

"Right, that sounds weird, but you are right," Katie nodded, as the two of them huddled closer together and looked around in fear. "Do you see any salt or iron?"

"No, oh god," Sarah said, searching around the backseat. "Damn it, why do they keep everything in the trunk? That is so not practical for situations like these!"

"Check the front dash," Katie suggested, also feeling around the floor and searching under the seats. "Is this the Impala or not? Where is something ghost repellent?"

Sarah leaned forward and ruffled through the dashboard, finally finding a small pack of salt. As she glanced up, a scream caught in her throat as she came face to face with the ghostly-pale face One-Eyed Lucy. His face was right on the other side of the window. It was ghastly - his left eye socket was heavily scratched all around the gaping hole, leaving him with only one full eyebrow and half a nose.

Grabbing Katie, they both hugged each other tight as they curled up in the opposite corner of the vehicle. Too scared to speak, they just watched, frozen in terror, as the ghost leered at them through the passenger side window. Clutching the salt tight between them, Sarah did not like the look of that smile making its way onto One-Eyed Lucy's face.

"Why is he out here?" Katie asked.

"Didn't he die on the street and then they must have dragged his body inside," Sarah commented. Not liking the idea that now One-Eyed Lucy wanted to do that to one of them. Katie seemed to be thinking the same thing as her grip on Sarah tightened. Sarah had just enough time to be thankful that they had stayed in the car, when Lucy simply disappeared.

"Where'd he go?" Sarah asked, wide-eyed and glancing around.

"I don't know," Katie said, neither of them moved a muscle as their eyes moved frantically all around them. "We should have had them drop us off at the motel."

"Yeah," Sarah agreed. "Next time."

"Right, next time," Katie confirmed.

Then a face appeared again, this time in the passenger seat. Yelling in fright, Sarah threw a fistful of salt at the ghost as it reached for her.

"How the hell did it get into the car?" Katie screamed.

"I don't know! What do we do?" Sarah screamed back, not even realising.

"Okay, he died here, so maybe it's like, as long as we are in front of the house, he can get us," Katie tried to reason. "There was a cafe we passed about two blocks back. It was full of people.'

"Run for it?" Sarah asked.

"Do we have a choice?" Katie asked, not liking the idea of leaving the car, but seeing no alternative. They didn't have a lot of salt left, and who knew how long the boys would be. Right now, they just needed to stay alive.

"Right," Sarah nodded. "On three, we run."

"This is not going to end well," Katie said, filled with dread as she grabbed the door handle.

"Yep," Sarah agreed, grabbing the other door handle. "One, two, THREE!"

Yanking the door open, Sarah did not even make it five steps in, even as she pumped her legs as hard as she could, when she felt cold, damp hands grasp her ankle. It brought her crashing to the ground, hitting her head against the ice covered sidewalk, the bag of salt slipping from her fingers. She saw Katie still running, not noticing Sarah had fallen. For a brief half-second she thought about calling out. The thought of Katie running after her to help stopped her though, she would rather Katie was safe. She had barely enough time to come to that decision than she was yanked backwards, arms over the head to protect it from being bumped on the front stairs she was dragged up, tossed through the front door and slammed into a wall.

Crumpled on the floor, Sarah looked up, her body aching with pain. Great. She was in the creepy killer house. She had to think. She watched Supernatural all the time; she knew what was needed to get rid of a ghost; she could do this. With determination, Sarah staggered up onto her feet. Glancing around the room, Sarah could have kissed someone in delight at the sight of an old fireplace, with fire poker and other stuff used for a fireplace beside it. Stumbling over there and trying to ignore the pain shooting through her body, Sarah grabbed the poker and surveyed the room. Drawing on her other television obsession, Criminal Minds, she remembered Agent Morgan telling Penelope to wait in a corner in case her shooter came back. Quickly given a silent thanks to the beautiful Shemar Moore, she took position in the corner which allowed her to see the two entranceways into the room.

"I can do this," she prepped herself. "It's like baseball, which I suck at. But the guys face is a lot bigger than a little ball. I can do this."

She had no more time to prep when the ghost was back, moving way faster than a normal human. Closing her eyes, Sarah started to swing the poker with all her might, as fast as she could, in front of her. After a couple of seconds, Sarah peeked one eye open, the room was empty again. Then the room started to tremble, wind gushing through, knocking her cursed bangs into her eyes. Then there he was, One-Eyed Lucy, looking very pissed off.

"Get away from her!" Katie shouted, bursting into the room, throwing salt from the bag Sarah had dropped at the ghost.

The wind stopped suddenly, as the salt repelled the spirit.

"Katie!" Sarah called, tossing the fire place sweeper at her.

"What good is a broom?" Katie asked, bewildered.

"It's iron, hold it from the bristles," Sarah instructed quickly, feeling the wind starting to pick up again.

"Figures I get the lame weapon," Katie complained quietly, holding the little broom in front of her. "This sucks."

"Yes, it really does," Sarah agreed, gasping as Lucy appeared behind Katie. "Behind you!"

Swinging the broom blindly, she swept the iron handle through the ghost repelling him. "At least it works," Katie said, backing up beside Sarah.

The thing started to come faster and faster. Sarah's arms ached, and started to feel like lead, every time she raised them to take a swing. Katie did not seem to be doing much better. They could not last much longer, when suddenly, as One-Eyed Lucy appeared once again; the spirit seemed to go up in flames, disappearing right in front of them.

Still holding their make-shift weapons up, they heard footsteps coming from the staircase. Dean, Sam and Castiel each took a double glance at the two girls. Sarah knew she must be quite the sight, holding a fire poker, covered in slush from being dragged. Katie just looked weird holding a broom. Both of them were completely out of breath.

"What the hell?" Dean asked, looking very concerned, glancing around the room, as if looking for an attacker.

"I thought you were staying in the car?" Sam said, walking over to the girls, checking to make sure they were alright.

"Yeah, well, One-Eyed Lucy literally drag me in here," Sarah defended. "It's not like I had a choice."

Cas frowned and looked at both girls. "You are not hurt," he asked, very serious.

"Heavily bruised," Sarah replied. "But I'll survive."

"Just out of breath," Katie said, before rounding on Sarah. "And you! You! Next time a sociopathic killer ghost grabs you, let me know. A nice little yelp would be acceptable. Do not let me run two blocks, only to realise what happened, to run all the way back!"

Sarah looked down sheepishly. "I figured one of us in trouble was enough," she muttered.

"Well, we're best friends, sisters, soulmates even, so there is never just one of us in trouble, got it?" Katie lectured, before grabbing Sarah in a tight hug, ignoring the fact she was soaking wet.

"Ugh, enough of the chick flick moments," Dean rolled his eyes.

"Hey, we're chicks, it's totally allowed for us," Sarah pointed out as she and Katie finally dropped their weapons. Limping along as they exited, Sarah was surprised to find Castiel came up beside her, placing his hand on her waist. "Um?"

"You look like you are having trouble walking again," Castiel said stoically. "This is how you help someone who cannot walk."

It took a split second for Sarah to realise he was talking about when she broke her shoe at Bobby's. Smiling up at the angel, she did not have the heart to tell him she could hobble along just fine. Ignoring the glances the other three sent them, Sarah let Castiel help her back to the car.

AN: Reviewers are awesome people who make authors insanely happy. So please review. Shilo-shadow ... I will consider. lol. Aryll, I had to have a Canadian OC ... being Canadian. I am a stickler for slang, and I always slip up and put in Canadian slang, not even realising it. This time, I could add some on purpose. For example, "slippy" is how every single maritimer I know says slippery. maskedchick; happy to make you laugh!

~ Ella