Chapter 22

Highly Combustible

"Hey."

Dean swallowed his slight irritation as he looked up from his laptop to the witch as she entered the kitchen and copied her bored greeting, "Hey."

"You hear from your mom?"

"Yeah."

"Cool, so I can have my apology now?"

"What?"

Chelsea sighed, truly disappointed in his unwarranted irritation. "For ordering me to stay here like a child. You told me to my face, and I quote 'We don't need you'."

"We didn't."

"That's not what Sam said."

"Dammit Sam..."

She crossed her arms and lent in the doorway, "You ordered me to stay here because you blame me for your mom leaving."

"I don't."

"So wanting to kill an innocent Wiccan had nothing to do with your hatred for little old me?"

"He told you that?"

A nod, "He suspected it had to do with misplaced anger. You only know two witches personally and only one has pissed you off lately." she raised her hand to indicate she meant herself. "Besides, I can see what's in your heart Dean, I called it on your mom leaving so you put the blame on me."

"I don't blame you for anything." he laid both hands flat on the table and made his matter-of-fact face, "Mom said she needed space and I'm cool with it."

"Are you though?"

"Morning! I got everything on the list." Sam squeezed past them with grocery bags, "You guys feeling scrambled eggs or fried?"

They answered at the same time, "I'm not hungry."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." Another chorused answer.

"That's getting creepy." Sam admitted.

"What is?" That time they looked at each other, narrowing their gazes just a touch.

"Whatever," Dean broke the near staring contest first, "I got us one."

Sam stopped unpacking the bags he'd brought in, "Really?"

"Are we supposed to just sit on our asses?" Dean asked as he stood with his laptop.

"What about Lucifer?"

"Cass and Crowley are on it. If they need us they'll speak up."

"I still can't believe he decided to be an ancient hair rocker." Chelsea mused out loud.

"Ancient?"

"Are you trying to say Vince Vicente isn't ancient?"

"You're three-hundred!"

The witch shook her head, "Not relevant."

"How..? How is that not relevant?"

"Can we focus?" Dean huffed as the two sort of shrugged, "Thank you." he swiveled his computer and pointed at the screen, "Happened last night."

Chelsea crossed her arms and lent forward to read aloud, "Two killed in mystery fire. ...so?"

"So, since when does a fire burn only the bodies?"

"Guess thats the mystery." she answered.

"Spontaneous combustion? Dragon?" Sam tried.

"Maybe."

"Is there more?" the witch asked.

"Yup. The old lady? Loaded. Scrooge McDuck loaded."

"So why was she at a dinky antique shop?" Chelsea asked.

"Rich people like antiquing." Sam verified.

"At 3 a.m?"

"Hm. You have a point."

"I know. We going?"

"Can you be ready in five minutes?"

"Sure."

Sam sighed when she disappeared. "Did you apologize?"

"No."

"Dean..."

"I don't feel like I owe her an apology." a lie if he'd ever told one.

"Excuse me? You ordered her to sit here because of your feelings."

"I'm fine." the older brother argued.

"Then apologize! Because if you can't-"

"What Sam?" he cut his little brother off, "What's the threat? You're going to take this thing? You're going to do a better job?"

Sam shook his head sadly, "I wouldn't be treating her like some pet."

"You guys done?" The brothers turned to the witch who had both eyebrows raised. They both started to say something and she held up her hands, "Drop it, seriously. Don't make me regret sticking around."

After they looked at each other sheepishly she motioned to the door, "Let's go."

Sam sort of rushed by her and Dean stopped briefly, not looking her in the eye,"Sorry."

She shooed him along, "Yeah, I know."

"I'm guessing this is a body?"

"What's left of it anyway."

Chelsea stepped over the pile of ashes just inside the doorway as the brothers followed behind.

"Police report says the owner died by the register."

Dean stood over the pile, "Then this must be rich lady."

"Looks like she was making a break for the door. Poor old bat..." Chelsea put her hands in her pockets, "So, where do we start?"

"We start with the reason they were here." Sam offered.

"Ok. Then you do that and we'll take a look around." Dean motioned to the witch.

The younger brother started to object until the witch said, "I'll take downstairs, Dean will go up."

He wandered off towards the stairs, "I don't smell sulfur."

Sam took the EMF transmitter from his pocket and put it on the desk as he wiggled the computer's mouse. "Not ghosts."

"Hex bags?" Dean shouted down from the upper floor.

Chelsea chuckled, "Wouldn't need one for this."

"Or," the younger tried, "cursed object. This is an antique shop."

"That seems the most plausible." Chelsea raised her voice so she could be heard, "Since not everything is a witch."

Instead of a comeback there was the sound of something falling and possibly breaking, "Hey Dean?" Sam called out.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe don't touch anything-"

"Yeah yeah."

Dean continued to wander through the upper floor, straining to listen to his little brother and the witch as they spoke below him, dropping their voices on purpose.

"I'm fine." the witch said, clearly annoyed.

"I just want to look out for you."

"You're both kind of exhausting me. I said I'd stick around..."

"We know."

"We? You and Dean are far from acting like a 'we' these days. The petty bickering, at odds about Mary and this." from the tone of her voice Dean figured she was gesturing somehow. "This isn't a triangle of any kind but it's being treated like one."

"I just don't get it." Sam sounded dejected.

"Well figure it out, Sam, or I'll leave."

He didn't get to reply as Dean bumped into something else, knocking it onto the floor from listening too hard. He leaned over the balcony and grinned sheepishly, "Sorry."

"Eavesdropping?"

"Jesus!" Chelsea appeared behind him and he dropped the object again. This time just stepping over it rather than picking it up.

"I mean..." he huffed, straightening his jacket, "You'll leave huh?"

She sighed, "I hope you respect me enough to let me go if I chose to."

He maneuvered past her just as Sam shouted up, "Was he listening?"

"You have to ask?"

"Whatever. I got something."

Dean continued to mosey about, touching everything. Chelsea motioned exasperatedly as he felt along a bookshelf. Stopping to look at the floor.

"They were meeting for a sale." Sam continued as Dean pointed out what looked like swipe marks from a door, "Looks like an old pocket watch. Could be military of some sort."

The younger took notice of the silence, "Guys!"

"Sammy!" Dean shouted back, "You should come see this!"

When the younger Winchester joined them in a room full of Nazi paraphernalia all he could say was, "Oh."

"More like, why?"

"Wait a minute." Dean waved a finger as he looked around one more time, "We've seen this before. Nazi crap and combusting people from a distance..."

"Thule." Sam and Chelsea said together.

"How do you know who it is?" Sam asked.

"I've been killed by the Thule before." The witch looked more annoyed than anything, "And it made the paper."

"What!" The brothers were equally shocked.

"You seem surprised."

"No shit! Why were they after you?"

"They're looking for the secret to eternal life. Or at least they were."

"Let's go with were." Dean said, "From what I understand they figured it out. They can only die by fire."

"Nah, that was the deal when they came after me too."

Dean held up a hand, "Wait a minute. You've been burned alive then? Like, incinerated?"

Chelsea was a little confused but otherwise unfazed, "Yeah. Not the first time, or second for that matter... you know this."

The barn had slipped his mind. "Three times?"

She nodded, "I've been burned at the stake before. Interesting stuff."

Sam tried to get the conversation back on track, "So the Thule left you alone?"

"I think that they think I died. They cornered me in Paris at the start of the war; following a story that I'd been shot and killed only to be seen walking around a few days later."

"And they asked about Nathaniel?"

"Didn't know about him. Just demanded I give up whatever spell I was using. I refused, they lit me up." she shrugged, "It was a short exchange."

"You'd think they'd try harder."

"Unless..."

"What?" Dean urged.

"Unless they switched focus. Maybe it's not about living forever."

Then what would it be about?"

"Nothing good."