It might be short but I hope you like it anyways! Phoenix

Close Encounters

Laura waited for a few moments and then taking a steadying deep breath left the safety of the closet, Dean's memorized number reciting on her lips.

She just hoped he had his cell on…

Chapter 25

"Where's your brother?" John demanded, giving his son the once-over. His gaze lingered briefly on the forehead gash before, satisfied that there was no serious damage, he looked past Dean towards the dark basement.

"He's at my house," Frank interjected as he inspected the small cut on the side of his hand. It wasn't deep. More like an irritating paper cut than anything else.

The rugged hunter frowned. "And you are?"

"Dad," Dean inserted an introduction, "This is Frank Hardy. He and his brother, Joe, are friends—"

"Joe?" John ushered the younger men towards the front door, hyper-vigilant for any signs of the aforementioned wraith. "Blond kid – about six foot, looks like he knows his way around a football field?"

"Yes!" Frank nodded vehemently, "That's my brother! Have you seen him?"

John gave him a measured look and then pushed open the front door, "You might say that…"

"Joe!" Frank saw his brother and hurried towards him, quickly running a worried gaze over his sibling, "Are you okay? What happened? How'd you get away? Where—"

Dean rolled his eyes but couldn't help but grin as he glanced across at his father. John snorted softly, clearly as amused by this as Dean was.

Joe held up his hands, backing his brother off. "Whoa easy, Frank! Yes, I'm fine. Mr. Winchester here," he tipped his chin towards the older man, "went all Dirty Harry on the guy and saved my ass. What about you guys?" He glanced between Frank and Dean. "Are you okay?"

Dean spoke up. "We're good." The small group started towards the road where the vehicles were.

"What happened?" John asked his son as they let the Hardys go on ahead. He glanced back towards the house. "The blond kid said there's a wraith? And why the hell isn't Sammy with you? You know how I feel about you boys splitting up."

"Uh," Dean hedged, "well…" he sighed and bit the bullet, tripping over his words in a haste to get them out, "Sam got hurt – he's okay…well mostly…but the wraith, which we totally weren't expecting, got the drop on us and Sammy took a bit of a tumble. Like I said, he's okay – mostly, a bit colorful though – so I figured he should sit this one out. You know, a little R and R…" his voice trailed off weakly as his father stopped walking and turned a full John Winchester trademark look of disapproval on him.

"A wraith? You're sure?"

"Yes, sir. Too powerful to be another poltergeist." Dean swallowed a bit nervously. Not that he was worried about his father raising a hand to him. John wasn't abusive, even if he had been known on occasion – in Dean's way past – to have swatted a butt or two in his time…usually Dean's…but always with good cause.

What he was worried about was disappointing his father. As far as Dean was concerned, taking care of Sam was Dean's job, and now Sam was hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me this, this morning?" John demanded as they started walking again, picking up the pace to catch up with the Hardy boys.

"You never asked," Dean stated bluntly. It was neither an accusation nor an insult but John's jaw tightened anyway because his son was right. He had been in such a hurry when he had called that he never even asked how the poltergeist hunt he had sent them on was going.

He didn't even ask if the boys were okay. And apparently they had not been…

"I figured I'd tell you the next time you called," the younger Winchester continued. "I didn't think it was a big deal. Hey," a sudden thought occurred to Dean, "What are you doing here anyway? You said you'd be a couple of more days still."

"Missouri called," John admitted, "she told me you boys were in a bit of a bind and that I best be getting my hiney back to Bayport." He glanced back at the house that had imprisoned Dean and Frank. "Guess she knew what she was talking about…again."

Dean had to grin. Missouri Mosely was an old friend and a renowned psychic whose often-times odd premonitions had saved their lives too many times to be discounted. And she was one of the few people who could make John Winchester do anything – the short, rotund southern black woman knew how to wield a mean wooden spoon… "Hiney, huh?" he couldn't help but tease. "Her word or yours?"

John shot him a daggered glare.

The younger hunter just grinned but before he could say anything else, his cell phone rang.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Sam had no idea how long the table salt would repel the wraith but figured it wouldn't be for very long. Rock salt was the weapon of choice.

Moving as quickly as he could, the injured teen hurried towards the stairs leading to the second story.

He had his path picked out – up the stairs, into Joe's room, through the shared bathroom into Frank's room, and then back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Now all he needed was for the spirit to follow – and for it to be slower than he was…

Sam was out of luck though. The wraith didn't follow him.

…

Laura knew it was behind her without even turning around. The air was charged with an electricity that made every hair on the back of her neck tingle.

Turning slowly, she continued dialing, praying Dean answered and Sam got back to the kitchen before this thing did whatever it was that things like it, did.

She really had no idea.

Normally a rather level-headed and clear-thinking detective's wife, Laura felt at a rather uncomfortable disadvantage in this situation as her heart pounded painfully in her chest and her hands trembled slightly as they held the phone to her ear.

Once again the wraith hovered behind her.

The first ring went through.

Laura heard Sam on the second floor…

The dark mass vibrated and started to stretch out.

The second ring went through. Pick up, pick up!

Sam clumped heavily down the stairs…

Dean picked up on the third ring—

And Laura screamed!

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

"Hello—" Dean started when a woman's scream pierced through the receiver. "Damnit!" he yelped as he pulled the phone away. He was sure he'd never hear out of that ear again.

Ignoring his father's questioning look as the Hardys stopped to see what was going on, the young hunter pressed the phone back against his ear. "Who is this?" He scowled. No one was there. The screaming woman was replaced by dead air.

"What is it?" John demanded impatiently.

"I dunno," Dean hurriedly checked the call display and then frowned. "905-555-6539? I don't know that number."

Joe and Frank exchanged looks. "That's our number," Joe told them. "Maybe it was Sam."

Dean shook his head. "No…it was a woman," he paused and then started running for his car. "It was your Mom," he called over his shoulder, "and she was screaming!"

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Laura's scream cut off as Sam burst into the kitchen. The wraith had her pinned against the far wall, its touch leaving a scorching mark on her fair skin.

"Hey!" he yelled, hurrying towards them, "Let her go!"

Surprisingly enough, the wraith did just that and the blond woman slumped to the floor bonelessly. Unconscious.

Moving away from Laura, it shot towards Sam, placing itself between him and her, taunting the young hunter and countering every attempt Sam made to try and reach her.

Every contact burned.

"Damnit!" Sam yelled, angry and in pain. "What do you want?"

"Mine," the wraith hissed, "Mine…mine…" it slowly moved towards the teen, backing him against the stove—

The young hunter closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He knew what he had to do. There was no choice. He only prayed that somehow Dean or his father could undo this.

"Okay," he whispered. "Yours…"

…

An ominous silence fell over the house on the corner of Elm and High streets…

Curtains blew gently through broken windows; the front porch wind chime tinkled in the gentle breeze.

Inside, a cold autumn chill wrapped frigid fingers around the two people lying on the kitchen floor…

And that is exactly how Fenton Hardy found things when he returned home.

TBC