"Remember the plan?"
"Yeah," Dean nodded, as he stared out the window at the huge Victorian-style mansion as it loomed before them.
This was a first for Dean, and he tried to quell the anxious stuttering of his heart. Because of his age and appearance, he couldn't successfully pull off the appearance of an adult, and so being included in the interviewing aspect of hunting, had had to wait until now. Caleb had figured out a believable cover story for him that would corroborate why he was there, interviewing the parents of the deceased girls. It was a fascinating new experience for Dean, but also a hard one because he, above everyone else, knew what these people must be going through, and he could most certainly relate.
"Okay. For the most part," Caleb explained, as he stopped the car and prepared to get out. "I want you to observe, but if you think you should, you can also ask some questions."
"Got it."
The less he asked, the better. At thirteen, he was involved in many different aspects of his guardian's hunting lives, but he had never stepped foot into this part of it before, and because of that, the less he brought attention to himself, the better. As they stepped out into the harsh late fall weather, Dean reflexively wrapped his arms around himself to keep himself warm, as he and Caleb walked side by side up the cracked, aging stone steps and to the elaborate Oak front door, which bore not a door handle, but a carved lion head knocker.
Trading dubious glances with each other, Caleb paused before raising his hand and using the knocker to knock on the door. It had been awhile since he had had the pleasure of interviewing someone on the richer part of the neighborhood.
"That thing is creepy," Dean remarked, as he stared at the lion head which seemed to have the kind of lifelike eyes that stared right into your soul.
It made him the slightest bit uncomfortable, as though it really was looking at him. Dropping his head, he strained his ears to hear whether he could decipher any sounds from the inside.
"Yeah, it is," Caleb agreed. "Some houses like these, they have talismans to protect them from curses or different kinds of evil."
"So maybe these freaks-"
"Dean," Caleb warned.
"Sorry," Dean said, with a chuckle. "So maybe these people," he emphasized, "know something happened to their kids?"
"Could be," Caleb said, clamping his hand down on Dean's shoulder. "I would if something happened to you or your brother."
"Yeah, but you know more than them," Dean pointed out.
"True."
In general, hunters and especially Caleb, had never believed in talismans and what they claimed to do for people. Mostly, he considered them to be a superstition and nothing else. They were distracted from further conversation when the door swung open unexpectedly. A balding man in his early to mid forties was standing there, staring at them expectantly. All through his life, Dean had a mental script that he rehearsed over and over with Caleb. It was the same training they were now going through with Sam, but somehow when he was standing there, confronted with an actual person, words failed him.
"Can I help you?" The man arched an eyebrow.
"Yes," Caleb said, stepping closer, hoping the man would feel inclined to invite them in. "My name is Josh Young, and this is my son, Dean. I'm a grief counselor up at the school, and we were wondering if we could maybe offer our support during this time."
The man seemed to consider what Caleb was saying, as his eyes momentarily filled with tears before he pushed them back with a shake.
"Yeah, yeah. Come on in."
Throwing Dean an exultant look, the two followed them man inside the impressive foyer before he veered off into the equally impressive and grand sitting room. Taking a seat on a royal red chaise, Dean and Caleb watched as the man took a seat across from them on the sofa. As they did, Dean could not help but look around at the house, wondering what secrets it held within its walls. The man had come back around, and had closed the doors that opened up to the family room.
"Is your wife around?" Caleb asked.
"No, no, she's upstairs resting right now. She hasn't been feeling too well."
"That's understandable, and we are so sorry for your loss."
"Thank you. I don't think I introduced myself. I'm Richard."
"It's nice to meet you," Caleb said calmly.
"So you're a grief counselor?"
"Yes."
"And you," he said, turning his attention to Dean. "You went to school with Ashley and Jessica?"
"Yes," Dean said, doing his best to look the grieving man in the eye, even though he felt horrible for lying to him when he was already so crushed. "I did."
"Did you know them well?"
"In passing."
"It's just," Richard sighed deeply. "You think your kids will bury you. You never think that you'd end up burying your own kids!"
"We're very sorry," Caleb reiterated. "I'm sorry to ask, but they were found in a locked room?"
"Yes. In their upstairs bathroom. It had a lock on it."
"Right," Caleb said, "and what did they say happened? The police?"
"They don't know," Richard said with a shrug. "They're as baffled as we are."
"Any forensic evidence?" Dean asked, venturing into delicate territory, as he carefully felt his way around the conversation and where it would lead.
"Besides my daughters' blood?" Richard asked pointedly. "Not really."
"What does 'not really' mean?" Caleb asked, sensing the man's evasive answer.
"They don't know what it means. Probably nothing, you know? But they found a print in the blood."
"What kind of print?"
"I don't know. They're trying to analyze it still."
That was interesting. A print would possibly narrow down their search if they could figure out who or what it came from. If it was an animal print, if it was a human one. It would solve a lot of questions they had, and possibly solve the case.
Realizing that they wouldn't get anymore answers out of the man about the death of his daughters, Caleb next decided to quiz him on the history of the house, trying to see if something in the house could have caused something to happen.
"This house, it's so beautiful," Caleb said, smoothly changing the subject, as he glanced around the beautiful surroundings.
"1800's. Pristine condition. Spent a fortune getting it back here."
"How long have you had it?" Dean asked, following Caleb's subject trail.
"Centuriesâ"it was our earliest ancestor's home, and it's been passed down through the generations."
"Oh, really?"
Old homes like that, could often contain spirits, especially if someone in the family had died in the home, or even a previous owner that had no relation to this family.
"Yes."
"So," Caleb said, "you must have some problems with it sometimes. Flickering lights, cold spots, that kind of thing?"
"No," Richard shrugged. "Not really."
"Oh?"
"We haven't had a lot of problems. We've actually been lucky in that area."
"Well," Caleb said, beginning to stand up. "You know, we could really use your bathroom, if that's okay?"
"Yeah, of course. Down the hall and to the right."
"Thank you," Caleb said, as he and Dean carefully made their way into the hall. "Come on," Caleb whispered, as he and Dean turned sharply up the impressive staircase, intent on investigating the bathroom where the girls had been found.
"What are we looking for?" Dean whispered, as he and Caleb found the correct bedroom and adjoining bathroom.
"Anything that will fit the pieces of the puzzle a little closer together."
Caleb had been doing this for almost twenty years. He knew the correct steps without even thinking about it most of the time, and it was nice to be able to spend quality time with Dean and teach him everything that he knew. And for the most part, Dean had proved to be an excellent student.
"Do you want the EMF?"
"Yeah. Turn it on, and hold it out like I taught you."
"Okay."
Reaching into the bag they had brought with them, Dean produced the device that was capable of detecting paranormal energy, and turned it on. Slowly waving it around the room, Dean watched for any signs that it had picked something up, but so far the device remained silent.
"Nothing?" Caleb guessed, as he bent down to inspect something of interest on the tile floor.
"No."
"Keep moving it around. You never know when it could pick something up."
"Okay."
Dean carefully chose his steps as he brought the EMF around the room, but nothing was ever picked up. Finally giving up, he put it back in the bag, as he turned to see what Caleb was doing.
"It didn't pick up on anything?"
Dean shook his head, as he dropped to one knee beside him. "Nada. What about you?"
"I found that print Richard was talking about."
"You did?"
Caleb nodded, as he moved so Dean could see it. "See that? What could make something like that?"
The print was large; possibly an animal one, but it had been smudged by the blood and police trampling all over it. From Caleb's best guess, it was animal, possibly a larger one like a wolf or something else big.
"What do you think it is?"
"Animal."
It was hard to wait around the house and not know if his brother and guardian were safe or not. Lounging at the kitchen table, Sam mindlessly flipped through the few books he had at his disposal. Some were his, and some Bobby had for his research into Jim's death. Tearing his eyes away from those particular books, the child lifted his head when Bobby reentered they room. He had gone down to the basement to check in a few things, and to make sure their weapon cache was holding up. From the look on his face, he knew they were good to go.
Never a man of many words, he knew Bobby was about to give him an earful when he took a seat across from him. Straightening up when he noticed the blueprints under his arm, he fought to concentrate on Bobby and not on the pressing unease he had. Because the job was local, Caleb and Dean would be home every night. Sam tried to take comfort in that, and not think about all the other stuff going through his mind.
"What are those?" He directed his gaze to the prints spread out on the table.
"These," Bobby began, writing something down on one of them. "Are the finishing touches on your new humble abode."
Sam raised an eyebrow; he had never heard of any plan for any new house, and despite himself, he could feel a thrill of excitement course through his veins. A new place would go a long way in making a fresh start for his family and help them put some of the pain behind them.
"A new house?"
Bobby nodded. "Caleb and I were talking last night. We figured the crap has hit the fan here enough. We want a place for you rugrats to feel safe. To keep Yellow-eyes away."
"So, that's what the prints are for?"
Bobby nodded. "The house is already built. But I've gone over and customized it a bit. Just your state of the art protections that we'll go over later."
In spite of himself, Sam was excited. And could not wait until the house was finished.