Disclaimer: Crimson Peak is Guillermo Del Toro's property, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke, The Lodgers to Brian O'Malley. Emma, Constance and I are self-inserts. The old lady from Camden Market belongs to Chibimelodee.

Summary: Ghosts are real and everything happens for a reason. Is this why Marina and her friends find themselves trapped in Allerdale Hall a few days away from Christmas?

Author's note: This story was written for me by « Emma » and « Constance » from Chibimelodee as an Advent Calendar two years ago. Please note that all three of us are french and while we do know our way around English, we might still make some mistakes. Feel free to let us know! As the three girls are french and start to speak from this chapter, I'll put the translations of their sentences right next to them so you know what they say.

At the Candlelight

Chapter 18 : Lucille, please come back where you belong

A loud scream echoed in the first-floor corridor, awaking all the ones who were still asleep. They all went rushing ; following the high-pitched shriek. Their thoughts of torture or even death were cut short as they entered the small bedroom, finding a sobbing Emma, holding tight at the right side of her skull, her petite form shaking violently, her face showing complete and utter shock. She didn't even acknowledge their entrance, blind and deaf by what she had discovered. Dean ran to her, wrapping his strong arms around her small frame, bringing her face to his chest.

« What happened, doll ? » he asked softly, taking her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look at him.

She kept clutching her hair, tears beginning to appear in her big eyes.

« Someone cut my hair ! » she sobbed, slowly lowering her hand, showing everyone the missing strand of pink hair.

The stunned look of her sister and her best friend made her hide again, burying her face against the hunter's chest while he slowly stroked her back.

« Seriously, what kind of freaks cut women's hair ? » Dean asked angrily, faintly rocking back and forth to help Emma relax.

« Dean, it's just hair… » Sam tried to reason. « It will grow back soon… »

Emma sobbed harder and Dean glared murderously at his brother while Constance elbowed the giant hunter, knowing very well her sister had wanted her hair pink for quite a while.

Lucille was watching the scene from afar, the pair of scissors in her right hand, the strand of pink hair in the left one. It had been so easy… Maybe too easy… Truly, this woman was pathetic ! Crying for her hair… Pitiful !... Wretched french girl who moaned the loss of her hair… But she had to see it coming…

Life is much too short
To while away with tears
If only you could see just what you do to me
Oh jealousy you tripped me up
Jealousy you brought me down
You bring me sorrow you cause me pain
Jealousy when will you let go?
Gotta hold of my possessive mind
Turned me into a jealous kind

At first, the Sharpe sister hadn't believed the small stupid French woman named Emma to be a hindrance between her and Thomas. She was too cloddish, too mundane to catch the eyes of her dear brother… A mentally disturbed woman such as this Emma stood no chance in comparison to the Lady of the House. Plus, she seemed to be very fond of the oaf american she was seeking comfort to.

When Lucille had seen yesterday evening all the intruders playing a game with Thomas, she hadn't had the strength to go away. Seeing him after all these years had brought so many memories and emotions it had overwhelmed her and she had had no choice but to look at him from afar. He hadn't talked, his voice a sweet song she longed to hear. Lucille didn't know what was happening or how this game was being played. Despite her sharp mind and quick deduction, she still couldn't even begin to understand this Mysterium of theirs.

From the first time she had seen the elder sister, Lucille had seen her as a threat. But, after a quick observation, it was clear she had been wrong. The French woman didn't look at him and when she did, it was with a murderous glare. Furthermore, he had given her some horrible cards : Death coming with a pet snake, someone running away because he was being chased by a ghost, the legs of a spider coming out of boiling green water, a black crow perching on a snowy grave… Yes, definitively, her dear Thomas had no inclinations towards this woman.

So, Lady Sharpe had turned her attention to the two other women. The one with shorter hair was quickly discarded when Lucille saw some trace of her lipstick tainting another man's lips.

The way Thomas had looked at this Emma to search her approval had left a bitter taste in Lucille's mouth. The French woman kept blushing and, although the shorter American had kept her close to him, the Sharpe lady could see her brother was clearly affecting her.

Oh jealousy look at me now
Jealousy you got me somehow
You gave me no warning
Took me by surprise
Jealousy you led me on
You couldn't lose you couldn't fail
You had suspicion on my trail

Moreover, the cards he had given her had struck her, leaving no doubt towards his intentions : a music box where two tiny characters stood close despite the large place it had, a proud knight with his sword ready to rescue the princess imprisoned in her tower, a man and a woman standing at each side of a door yet trying desperately to pull it to open the said door and the best of them, a bed surrounded with candles, love letters floating around… Even a simple-minded like this Emma could see what he had been trying to tell her.

The keen pain of jealousy in her heart had almost made Lucille reveal herself. But she knew better. Walking in during their game would have done Thomas running away and her chances to win him back would have lessened even more… No ! She must first get rid of all the nuisance and distractions before showing herself to her brother.

This cut of a lock of her hair was the first warning… Next time, Lucille would have no objections to stabbing her to death !

Now I'm only left with my own jealousy
But now it matters not if I should live or die
'Cause I'm only left with my own jealousy

« I'm kinda sure Lucky Charms can fix that… » Dean whispered softly to Emma's ear as they got out of her bedroom.

She kept sobbing faintly, her head still buried in the hunter's chest, completely trusting him as she couldn't see a thing.

« Je vous laisse aller manger sans moi » Constance grumbled, walking to her bedroom door.

(I'll let you go and eat without me.)

« Tu ne viens pas avec nous ? » her sister asked, turning her head so fast she was dizzy.

(You're not coming with us?)

« Pour être honnête, je n'ai pas trop envie de voir le « petit Baron » comme tu dis… Je n'ai pas envie de provoquer un nouveau scandale en portant une tenue qui ne serait pas à son goût et je n'ai aucune intention de mettre les robes de sa sœur ou de ses femmes ! » the eldest sighed, entered the room and added before closing the door shut : « Et puis, je n'ai pas très faim »

(To be honest, I don't really want to see the little baron as you say... I have no wish to provoke a new scandal by wearing an outfit that would not be to hsis liking and I have no intention of wearing a dress that belonged to his sister or to his wives!)

« She's not coming » Emma grumbled to the two brothers. « She doesn't want to see the lord of the house… » They all sighed but did nothing to change Constance's mind and proceeded to head downstairs.

The sweet smell of bacon made Dean's stomach grumble, making Sam smirk. Emma was not hiding anymore, holding the eldest brother's hand tightly. Opening the door, they faced a strange and yet oddly recomforting scene. Bobby was reading some burnt old pages, his face crumpled with multiple wrinkles. Sean and Marina were talking animatedly, laughing and blushing, their fingers entwined. As for Thomas, all they could see was his back as he was currently cooking what appeared to be breakfast. Smiling slyly, Emma repressed a laugh and asked :

« Patisseries empoisonnées… les beignets mortels ? »

(Poisoned pastries, deadly doughnuts?)

Raising her head, Marina smirked, noticing the Asterix reference.

« Tu y es presque… » The youngest said, deciding to play her friend's game.

(Almost there!)

« Macarons foudroyants ? » Emma asked again, cocking her head on the side.

(Lethal macaroons?)

« Pas encore ça… » Marina laughed as their host turned around to see what was happening.

(Not yet!)

« Haaa ! Le pudding à l'arsenic ! » Emma exclaimed with a finger raised high in the air.

(Ah! Pudding with arsenic!)

« Ouiii » Her friend shrieked, apparently proud of her. Under the curious glares of all the men of the house, the two women positioned themself next to each other, mimicking the dance of Tournevis and his master, Emma singing gleefully :

(Yes!)

« Dans un grand bol de strychnine
Délayez de la morphine
Faites tiédir à la casserole
Un bon verre de pétrole […]
Décorez de fruits confits
Moisis dans du vert-de-gris
Tant que votre pâte est molle »

Marina then stopped her friend, exclaiming :

« Et un peu de vitriol ! »

Emma, seeming outraged roared a massive :

« NON... » before a huge smile graced her lips and she shrieked : « OUIIIIIIIII ! »

(No! I mean, yes!)

Dean, who had clearly not understood the song, had however picked up the word « pudding » and, winking at his brother, threw his arms in the air, screaming happily :

« PUDDING ! »

Bobby grumbled something inapprehensible between his teeth before starting to read again while Sean was looking at the two friends with wide eyes, clearly stunned by their awful performance. Sam was struck too, not knowing if he had to cheer them or not. Hiding his head in his large hands, he sighed nervously :

« Luckily this time, he kept his pants on… »

But Thomas's face was truly priceless. He stared at them, his mouth hanging open before he pulled himself together, his face showing a clear disgust.

« I don't know how people can still eat a thing a disgusting as pudding » the Baronet mumbled, going back to cook again.

« Back to our town, we call it « podingue » ! » Emma laughed heartily, trying desperately to bring a smile on their host's lips. « Personally, I don't like it either… »

« Good to know we have a common point » Thomas said without even looking at her. « By the way, I'm glad to see you finally acknowledge the absurdity of having your hair pink… But, pray tell, why did you just cut one lock of two ? »

Emma's eyes began to water as she unconsciously went to cover her missing lock of hair with one of her tiny hands. Seeing her distress, Dean rushed to her side, taking her in a tight embrace. Glaring hard at the Baronet, he asked dryly, not hiding his threats the slightest :

« If you're the one who did that, I swear to Chuck I'll gut you alive ! »

« Dean, it's just a strand of hair ! » Sam tried once again to reason his brother. « Don't need to get on your high horse… »

Before Dean could retort, Thomas sighed heavily, making every eye turn to him.

« Now I get what Constance had once meant to tell me… » he whispered, more for himself than for the other people in the room.

« Oh not, not horses again… » Marina shook her head, defeated.

« First Constance burst into tears at the mere mention of them and now, that ? » Emma laughed heartily before taking a piece of bacon between her fingers.

She popped it in her mouth, chewing fastly under the revolted eyes of the Baronet.

« Have all the good manners totally disappeared? How can someone enjoy eating with their bare hands… We are not animals as far as I know ! » Thomas exclaimed, putting the rest of the meat on a plate before turning off the cooker.

« Actually, we do descend of monkeys or haven't you heard of Darwin ? » Dean smirked, clearly still feeling some resentment towards the former ghost.

He then took the occasion to take some bacon with his fingers too, smiling brightly at Thomas.

« By the way, where is Constance ? » Sean asked, his head cocked on the side, his eyes searching everywhere.

« Not hungry… » Emma replied, crossing her arms on her chest, looking right into the Baronet's blue eyes. « Plus, she really doesn't want to see a certain person, if you know who I mean… So I think you should go and see her ! Talk to her… or sing to her a love song… Do whatever you want but fix that ! »

Thomas frowned before letting his head fall down. All of this was his fault. His dear Constance was starving herself just to avoid being in the same room as him. How could he try to win her back if she couldn't even stand to be near him ? His heart tightened in his chest, suffocating him.

Finally looking up, tears began to water in his eyes as he faced the happiness he himself had successfully achieved to break : Sean, stroking lovingly Marina's back while looking at her with all the devotion in the world and Dean, tossing away strands of Emma's hair behind her ear as she took a bite from the piece of bacon he was holding… All of this, he was denied to… Because he just couldn't imagine living without Constance. Sighing, he took the plate with the remainder of bacon and, without saying a word, headed upstairs.

With a heavy heart, Thomas knocked softly to his bedroom's door. He heard the hesitant steps of the young woman and whispered :

« Constance dear, it's me… I am aware I am probably the last person you wish to see now but… I bring you breakfast… ».

Constance let herself fall against the closed door, sitting slowly on the cold floor. Between two sobs, she managed to answer with a shaking voice :

« Je n'ai pas faim ! »

(I'm not hungry!)

The hate that the Baronet felt against this stupid wooden door, only rampart avoiding him to comfort the woman he loved, competed with his dispair. With a sigh, he put a hand against the hard and implacable wood, wishing to feel her presence through it, hoping to appease her sadness, desiring she would feel his love.

After long minutes where the silence, at the same time heavy and peaceful, was only faltering with her sobs and his sighs, Thomas took a decision as hard as impossible to his eyes… Not wanting to add more to her misery, Thomas knew deep down in his heart he had to give her space. So, he just put the plate in front of his former bedroom and slid the letter he had spent the entire night to write underneath the door. Unable to hold back his tears, he then went to his workshop upstairs, thinking it would be better for everyone in his house to not endure his presence.

Back in his familiar workshop, he finally let all his rage and sorrow explode, crashing everything at his passage. Notes, drawings, pieces of wood, gears and springs flew in every direction, crashing on the floor with crashes, tears running heavily down his cheeks, his face writhed with wrath.

Exhausted by his outburst of anger and resentment, he let himself fall on the ground as the emptiness filled him. Wiping away the tears from his eyes, he took deep breaths, trying to calm his heavy heartbeat, to steady his shaking hands. The faint smell of tea and clay made him raise his head, the familiar scent bringing him a strange sort of comfort. How many times he had come here crying just to be found by her ? She had always known how to ease his sorrow and, right now, at this particular moment, he craved for her presence. His sister. His confident. His partner. His love. The one person that hadn't let him down. Well, until that dreadful night… Thomas closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, letting her scent invade his senses. A light cold brush on his cheek made him shiver and he snapped his eyes open.

Lucille, you won't do your [brother]'s will?
Oh, Lucille, you won't do your [brother]'s will?

Lucille. His beautiful sister. How time and death hadn't been kind to her ! His eyes watering again, he took a time to look at her for the first time in more than a century. Her once rosy cheeks were now plastered on her cheekbones and her sparky eyes were bleak. Reduced at the state of a ghost, she had lost her beauty and looked now more like a dark skeleton than like his sister. A single shiny tear rolled down her cheek as she kept her hand on his face, seeming to simply enjoy being near him.

Lucille, please, come back where you belong.
I been good to you, baby, please, don't leave me alone.

New tears rolling down his cheeks, Thomas, like the little boy he once was, got near his sister, huddling in her arms in the hope to find the comfort she always brought him. She alone had always loved him and would love him until the end of time… But Thomas didn't love her, he didn't love her anymore… He trusted her embrace but wished her arms to be someone else's. Someone else whom he loved and who would certainly never forgive him. Lucille's arms tightened against him, the violence of her embrace erasing its comforting softness.

Lucille knew Thomas, her Thomas, her so perfect little brother, her soul mate, her lover, was slipping through her fingers. His tears were the result of a woman, another woman… Never should he cry for another… He was hers, only hers… Never his heart would beat for another… She had found him again and they would stay with each other… Always together… Never apart… It was their promise and Thomas would keep it, no matter what… She rocked him against her heart, distractedly humming their lullaby…

« Shhh, Thomas… Do not cry, my love… I am here now… All will be fine, I will never leave you again… Do not cry, dear Thomas… »

« Lucille, I am sorry… so sorry… I love her… Lucille, I fell in love with her… but she discovered what I have done… what we have done… I love her so much and I fear that she will never forgive me… She is purity, joy and life and I am nothing but lies, misery and death… How could she love someone like me ? Lucille, what have I done ? What have we done ? What did you make me do, Lucille ? All this horror, all this pain, all these deaths for what ? For money ? For the damnation of our souls ? For the loneliness ? Was it worth it, Lucille ? » the young man whispered, a hint of madness rising in his voice in the middle of his pain, his anger and his dispair.

Please release me, let me go,
For I don't love you anymore.
To live a lie would be a sin.
Release me and let me love again.

« For love… The horror was for love, Thomas ! » The ghostly woman answered calmly, her voice not showing a shadow of emotion.

« But this isn't love, Lucille ! » Thomas screamed, rising to his feet, pushing back his sister like if the distance between them could allow him to be free of her. « It wasn't love… Love is nothing like that… Love is not about murders, money and lust, Lucille ! What was between us was an abomination, a sin… but it wasn't love ! You were my sister, Lucille, and I trusted you… You were the only one who cared for me… and you used my affection for you, my tenderness, my trust to serve your own needs ! I was but a little kid, Lucille, and I needed you as my sister, as my friend… I was too young to understand… I was afraid, hurt and I had only you, Lucille… You were the one who tended to my wounds, the one who dried my tears, the one who used to take the blame in front of Mother and Father, the one who protected me… And you used that to make me believe that you loved me, that I was forced to love you, to make love to you… that it was the only way to pay my debts to you, because I was so indebted, so guilty, so weak… I had to be grateful to have such a loving sister, hadn't I, Lucille ? »

I have found a new love, dear.
And I will always want her near.
Her lips are warm where yours are cold.
Release me, darling, let me go.

« You ungrateful spoiled brat ! I did far more than protect you ! I killed Father who cared so little about you that he forgot you during a stupid goose hunt ! When those wretches found you, you were almost dead, poor Thomas. Father was too busy tumbling the maid to go looking for you. I do not even know if he noticed your absence. « You are such a disappointment to me » »

Hardening her voice, the ghost sounded like their Father before resuming with mockery.

« Was that not what he used to tell you while he was choking you until you lost consciousness? He always told you that once you're dead, his disappointment would end ! I had to do something before he succeeded to kill you. So he died during his last trip. A sea accident they all thought… but now, you and me, Thomas, we both know it was not an accident… I both know I poisoned him ! The same poison that I used to kill your wives with ! And after Father, I had to kill Mother ! Mother whi discovered the truth, the « horror ». She called us « monsters », Thomas ! I had no choice… She wanted to separate us… She wanted to marry me to one of those loathsome and crude… husbands ! Would you have preferred that, Thomas ? Would you have preferred that a drunken husband could lay his disgusting hands on me ? That's why she had to die ! You promised me, Thomas !... Always together, never apart ! »

Thomas was watching his sister as if he was seeing her for the first time because now, he was able to see who she truly was… He was seeing her wrath, her hate, her madness… She told him she loved him, she told him she protected him… It had been her who had killed Father when his abuses had been too much. It had been her who had killed Mother when she had discovered the truth. It had been Lucille who had come up with a plan to refloat their lost fortune. And it had also been her who had killed him.

His thought made him jump back, his sad eyes now full of hurt and rejection. She held her hand but the repulse still written on his face seemed to be clear enough for her. Her bony face contorted with wrath as a guttural moan tore the silence before she whimpered, her dead eyes locked at her brother :

« I won't stop, Thomas… Until you love me… I will kill her… I will kill all your friends in front of you, poor and helpless Thomas… and… I… will… kill… you ! I will kill you again, Thomas ! You belong to me !... Always together, never apart ! »

The door of his workshop flew open as she disappeared in tiny dark strands of smoke, her threats still resounding in the dusty and filled-with-hate air. The baronet's red eyes went to his great-grandson who was clearly out-of-breath. In the eyes of the old hunter danced surprise and disgust. In one hand, he held the few pages of the novel of Edith which hadn't entirely burn. In the other, he held with a firm hand no fear could make tremble a gun, ready to fire. Thomas was envying his bravery and his combativeness, qualities he, without a doubt, got from Edith.

« What the bloody hell was that ? » the old hunter mumbled, scanning the room with his eyes, constating with aberration the state of mind of the Baronet and the partial destruction of the workshop.

The furnitures were, for the better part of them, scattered off the floor, broken wooden toys strewed the floor which was covered with cogs, screws and tools of all sort. In the middle of the desolated scene stood the hateful man who was his great-grandfather. « Stood » was not exactly the best term to describe his ancestor right now. The Baronet let himself fall on the bare ground, his body shaking with sobs he couldn't repress anymore. He was nervously playing with the hem of his shirt in a desperate attempt to find an inch of comfort, his face shining with tears. He rose to him imploring eyes filled with fear and sadness. Bloody hell, what did Bobby have done to find himself in such a crappy situation ? How could he continue to hate with all his soul this man when the blue eyes which fixed him were from a lost child and not from a merciless murderer ? Feeling his heart soften, he understood how his Nana could have fallen into the nets of this English Lord with a more-than-doubtful morality. He had always been too soft… with Dean… with Sam… He knew very well that this weakness would lose him someday or another. Sighing, he cleared with his foot just the space so he could sit next to his great-grand-father and, with a slightly less dry and less irritated voice, he asked :

« What happened here, kiddo ? »

Thomas released a breath he didn't know he was holding and awkwardly wiped his tears with his sleeves. His eyes fixed in front of him, lots in the obscurity of the room, unable to look at Bobby, the Baronet burst out in a burst of joyless laughter that the old hunter could easily found as insane if he hadn't seen a huge sorrow which consumed the young man mere seconds ago. His laughter drowned in a sob and Thomas took a moment to calm himself before he answered with a voice he hoped to be neutral but agitation clearly shook :

« You just missed your great-grandaunt ».

Bobby looked at him with confusion and the silence made the Baronet continue :

« Lucille… She was… here… »

The old hunter forced himself not to smile when he saw the uncertain looks Thomas was sending him, as if the young man was checking that his words didn't anger him. Bobby could feel all his ancestor's tension and that was starting to irritate him. Right now, he just wanted to shake him and to tell him to man up… If he had found appealing Thomas' crying baby side at first, it was not the case anymore… It was time to him to pull himself together ! Fight, you idjit ! But for now, Bobby needed to, unfortunately, have some patience and a little compassion. Showing the place with a wave of his hand, he asked :

« Did she do that ? You two fight ? »

« No, it is… I did that… » Thomas whispered, ashamed, his head low. « It is all my fault… I have been stupid to believe she could love a monster like me ! How could she since she doesn't even want to see me ? »

« You're crying 'cause your freak of a sister doesn't want to shag you anymore ? » Bobby exclaimed, now furious.

« What ?... I… No !... I was not speaking about Lucille !... She is not the one I love… and that's the problem… She knows !... She wants to kill her, Bobby ! She is going to kill everyone in this house, me included, if I don't love her again… »

« Bollocks ! » Bobby mumbled, making his ancestor frown with his language. « The boys will be here shortly to sort thing out… From now on, you're not to be out of sight ! »

« I'm not gonna comfort some crying little baron, thank you very much ! » Dean exclaimed loudly, crossing his arms on his chest. « I've tried yesterday and we can't really say it was successful ! I seriously think he doesn't like me ! »

« Come on, be reasonable dude ! » Sam sighed. « We're trying to avoid Lucifer's rise here… ». The eldest of the two brothers shook his head negatively, clearly pouting.

With a small nod, Emma signalled the others to leave them alone, mouthing to her best friend she would do her best to make him see the right thing to do.

« Dean » her small voice seemed to echo on the dirty walls around them as she took his hand and brought him in another room, trying to find a place where no one could eavesdrop them.

They found themself in a strange little library, filled by old thick books and dusty aged pages covered with hastily handwriting. She slowly took him to the nearest loveseat, making a huge cloud of dust arise when they sat down which made the two lovers sneeze loudly. The hunter's face was still closed, unreadable. The young woman gently stroked his cheek with her far-too-small hand and he closed his eyes, finally relaxing. He sighed and dived his beautiful eyes in Emma's, making her heart melt with a furious speed.

« I'm… I'm no good at comforting people… You know, demons, I get but people… People are crazy and that's a people upstairs ! »

« And I'm one too » she whispered. « You don't have to say a word, Dean. Just be with us… I don't know if I can restraint myself when I'm near the Petit Baron. I risk hitting him and I'm quite sure that's not going to help us, right ? » He laughed, his eyes sparkling, any trace of pouting now away from his face.

The hunter ruffled the back of his hair, standing abruptly. He took some steps around, inspecting awkwardly the furniture, trying to buy some time to find the right words to say to her. He had this urge to protect her no matter what but to be the bloody tissue for some former-killer-ghost was a bit too much. Dean took a glimpse at her, relieved to see she hadn't moved, apparently lost in her thoughts. What was worrying him was the huge frown she was bearing. He quickly returned to his searching of the room, thinking hard on what he could say to her to correct the situation.

The spark of something golden, buried between some tears-strained pages caught his eyes. He quickly took the small item and marvelled at its sight. In his hand laid a golden ring, beautifully crafted, sparkling at the daylight, a huge ruby at its centre. Dean closed firmly his fist, his thoughts now fixed on what to do next.

He went to the loveseat, trying not to run and took Emma's chin in his fingers, forcing her to look in his eyes. He shivered when he saw disappointment in her eyes, sighed and finally said :

« Emma, you must know that, since I've met you, when I pictured myself happy, it's with you. But, to quote Castiel, my « people's skills are a bit rusty » and… » The hunter cleared his throat, clearly uneased, before opening slowly his fist, discovering the ring to her.

To say she was astonished was an understatement. Emma felt her face heat up, her brain go blank. She clearly didn't know what to do or say. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to get out of her chest.

« This… » Dean said, his voice just above a whisper, sweet as honey as he put the gorgeous jewellery at her finger « … is a promise. I promise you I will never let you down. It's not an engagement ring or that sort of crap but a promise that I will always do my best to… »

And god i swear to you I want you
my heart before you lies if you would want to
just say you will tonight
I want you
such desire and delight if you want to
you and I this one night
I want you, that moment in the air
before the kiss comes, that instant that it's there
oh god i i want you, that sigh we might share yet
when the warmth comes, the feel of skin on flesh

The rest of his sentence never left his lips as Emma jumped on him, silencing him with her lips. Their first kiss was passionate, hot, full-on non-said promisses. She was drinking them at their source, their lips moving as the most ancient language they were. It was beautiful and raw and consuming, their hands roaming over their bodies, exploring, grabbing, scratching, groping, stroking. They were breathless but the urge that consumed them was too strong.

An uncomfortable clear of throat forced them to break apart, their breaths short and shaky. Not able to look at the person who had come in, Emma hid her face in Dean's chest, his shirt halfway open while her top showed more cleavage than it normally should, silently cursing the intruders as the hunter glared hard at them. Marina was as red as a tomato, not knowing where to look, agape while

Sam smirked. « You two love birds are coming or what ? »

« Son of a bitch ! » the distinct voice of the eldest Winchester brother echoed before the door slammed open again, revealing the two Americans, the Angel, Marina and Emma. « I really hate all those stairs… » he added, out of breath while Emma laughed, patting his back.

The room was wrecked, almost everything laid on the floor, making it difficult for the five new arrivals to make their way to the Baronet and Bobby.

« What happened here ? » Marina shrieked. Her memory of the place was quite different from the scene she had now before her eyes.

Emma and Sam who had been there too was kind of shocked too, not daring to say a word, their eyes fixed on the damages.

« If you wanted to redecorate, why didn't you ask me ? » Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. « You know, fire is the most efficient way to get rid of… »

« We are not burning the house down, Dean ! » Bobby sighed, raising with difficulty from his sit on the floor.

« It was just an advice… » the hunter answered, raising his hands in the air.

Emma discreetly pinched Dean's waist, making him yelp, remembering him what they were supposed to do here. Dean sighed and went to sit near the Baronet who looked at him with wide eyes, quickly wiping away the tears which glistened on his cheeks with his sleeves, while the others went to clean up the place, offering to the two young men a semblance of intimacy. Handing Thomas a dirty handkerchief, the hunter tried to comfort him :

« Let me guess, buddy… Missy doesn't want to see you… She really has a bad temper, this one !... and quite a punch… But you really need to understand a couple of things about women… First, you can't kill them as soon as you don't like them anymore… Calm down, buddy ! Chill ! Kiddin' ! Don't pout… We gettin' back to your doll… Damn !... How to say this ?...

Oh, Loverboy!
That woman's heart is not a toy
Don't play with her affections
Or falsify her joy
Just settle down
You better stop running around
Or soon you're gonna wind up down six feet underground »

The blue eyes of the former ghost were fixed on the floor, the words of the American washing over him. Even if the others were busy fixing up his mess, he knew they all looked at him closely. Thomas sighed heavily, a teardrop falling on the wooden floor as Dean continued :

« I know your girl is pretty coy
She don't deserve this treatment
From such a callow boy
But she'll catch on
You're gonna miss her when she's gone
You think you're pretty clever
But she'll be out by dawn »

« Don't you think I don't know that ?! » the Baronet finally exploded, his face contorted with pain, grief and anger. « But there is nothing I can do to change my past ! NOTHING ! And if I need to go back to Lucille to keep her safe then I WILL ! »

All the faces turned to him. Under looks full of incredulity, stupor and rancour, Thomas got up with all the dignity of his upbringing and headed with firm steps to the door, to his sister, to his death. Emma had just the time to stop him slapped him hard, the imprint of her tiny hand marking his pale cheek :

« Don't you dare, Sir-Thomas-Sharpe-Miss ! I'm fed up with all your bullshits ! Constance and you, you're as bad as each other ! So now I'm gonna tell you what you will do and you will listen to me very very carefully… Understood ? You're just gonna man up and go talk to my sister RIGHT NOW ! But first thing first, blow your nose and dry your tears ! »

The Baronet took a deep breath and just got around the young woman without even answering her. He had made up his mind… He needed to save them all… He put a shaking yet resigned hand on the doorknob and opened the door, ready to face his destiny. What he saw then made him stop abruptly… She was there… In front of him… Her eyes into his… Holding in her white hands the letter… his letter… a little bit crumpled… stained with some drying tears… Constance… His Constance… She had come to him… Hair undone, her eyes glistening with the tears she had shed, looking like an angel in the white nightgown he had given her… Shaking… With anger ? With fear ? With cold ?... The shy smile she gave him, hugging a little bit more the letter, reassured him somewhat… It was only the cold… The cold ! It was snowing heavily and the gaping hole in the roof was very poor protection against the weather. She was wearing only this thin nightgown and no chimney was burning in the hallway to warm her... Blushing at having been reassured that she was only shaking with cold, he took off his jacket and laid it tenderly on her shoulders. It was only then that the young woman looked away and entered the attic, without saying anything to him, but tightening the jacket around her.

Constance could not help but shriek when she entered the room, noticing the mess that was inside. While the tables had been put up and some automatons that seemed almost repairable had been placed on them, a large number of wooden pieces, metal gears and torn paper still littered the ground. The young woman bent to slowly pick up the white-faced gentleman with painted black hair, who in her dreams had led her to Thomas, leaving the crumpled letter in its place on the dusty floor. Its head hung on the side at the end of its broken neck and its right arm was broken, certainly lost in the middle of any debris.

« I used to carve toys for Lucille, make her trinkets to keep her happy. » Thomas said behind her, his voice barely above a whisper. He gently wrapped his arms around the young woman's waist, putting his hands on hers, as if to help her support this little broken body :

« This is the magician. It took fifty-eight clockwork movements for it to do its trick. To look human. To charm its audience. But now it is just… broken. »… Just like me wanted to add the young man.

« How ? What ? Who ? » Constance asked, turning slowly toward the Baronet.

« I… » Thomas whispered, without looking elsewhere but the little automaton.

« But why ? » she asked, putting her hand on his cheek making him look at her.

« You had said to Sam you hated clowns and… I had made it for Lucille. I… All these toys, it was for Lucille… I had to destroy them… I… I just want to… If I build other toys, I want them to be for you… only for you… not for Lucille… never again for Lucille… But it's to late now… I have to protect you, my love… » Thomas whispered, sadness making his blue eyes shimmer.

« What's too late, Thomas ? What do you want to do ? What are you talking about ? » the young woman pleaded, her voice shaking with apprehension.

The Baronet lowered his gaze, determination making him clench his jaw. She turned toward the others, hoping that someone would answer her question. The two young hunters quickly disappeared into the adjoining room, Marina and Sean began again to tidy up the workshop with a new fervor, Bobby just looked furious – which brought no information to the young woman, because the old hunter still looked furious, at least she supposed it because she had never seen him wearing another expression – and Melody seemed to be struggling with herself, as if she wanted to say something but she didn't have the right to.

Constance then implored her sister with her eyes thinking that she would be the first to spill the beans, but to the general consternation, the voice that arose then was Sean's. « He thinks that going back to his sister is the only way to save us. » the angel said in a tone that betrayed no emotion as if he had just spoken about the weather. Marina, Bobby and Emma turned to him, consternation clearly written on their faces. Were they not all supposed to make Constance forgive this stupid Baronnet? The angel gave them a shy, apologetic smile, shrugged and continued to tidy up as if nothing had happened.

The eldest of the two sisters turned slowly toward Thomas whose cheeks were red with shame. The way he opened and then closed his mouth successively, he gave the impression of wanting to say something without finding his words. Constance placed a threatening index finger on his chest and, looking him straight into his eyes, told him in a tone leaving no room for debate :

« Vous allez m'écouter attentivement Monsieur Sharpe ! Si tu retournes voir Lucille, je te tue de mes mains… Et peu importe que tu sois déjà mort, je te jure que je trouverai une solution pour te tuer de nouveau ! Tu m'as bien comprise, Thomas ? » A smile slowly appeared on the Baronet's face.

(You're going to listen to me carefully, Mister Sharpe! If you go back to see Lucille, I'm killing you with my own hands... And it doesn't matter that you are already dead, I swear I'll find a way to kill you again! Did you understand me, Thomas?)

Not because the young woman's threats were ridiculous, but because they proved that she was still holding him in her heart ... at least enough to prevent him from seeing Lucille again. A dull sound from the old nursery prevented him from answering and everyone rushed into the room where the two young hunters had disappeared.

They found Dean sitting on the bare ground, surrounded by several objects that his fall had knocked down. Pulling a face as he got up, he leaned on what gave the appearance of being frames hidden under a yellowish and dusty sheet. He lifted it, making a spectacular cloud of dust which made everyone sneeze. Sam glared hard at him and they all turned back to Thomas who, judging by everyone's shouts, looked like he was in bad posture ... Take that, buddy !

Dean took the time to look closely at his discovery. The paintings were looking down at him, the long-dead souls frozen with stringency and severity, silently gorying the slow fall of Allerdale Hall. Nothing escaped their scrutiny gaze, nor the buzzing ruffling of the moths, nor the intruders who currently stayed in their home. To be totally honest, Dean didn't really like them, making him feel stripped, exposed, naked… He couldn't shake the weird feeling he had when he was surrounded by the lifeless canvas, if lifeless they were… His hunter's instincts were reminding him how many haunted paintings he had met during all his hunts and sure things, he wasn't going to be beaten again by another piece of so-called art !

While, they were all arguing about the fact that this incestuous bastard should or not get back to shag his freak of a sister, which he didn't give a crap of, he secretly took some salt on his hand and began to spray some on the awful paintings, preventing any wraith to come into life while they were preventing the goddam Apocalypse ! While he was taking some more salt, his green eyes fell on the very familiar redhead face, rendering him practically speechless.

« Crap !... Rowena… » Dean growled, making every head turn into his direction.

« Rowena ? » Sam asked, disbelieved and, as his older brother pointed the painting representing the witch, the younger hunter couldn't help but swear : « Crap ! »

« Who's this… Rowena ? » Marina then said, interrupting the awkward glances the two brothers were sharing. They both winced, clearly uncomfortable.

« It's a… Well, it's a long story… » Sam answered, ruffling the back of his hair, uneased « To be short, she is the mother of the King of Hell… and a witch… »

« And a real bitch too ! I'm not even surprised that Mister-I-fuck-my-sis knows her well enough to have her portrait… » Dean added, looking murderously at the painting.

« It's absolutely not what you're thinking ... I have never expressed the slightest desire to find myself in this woman's company ! » Thomas justified, disgust distorting his features. « And how on earth can you know who is ... »

« I can't believe I'm gonna saying this but we need to talk to her… » Dean cut. « Gosh I hate her !... She'll be again all… » He then took an awful Scottish accent, in what they all guessed was an imitation of this Rowena : « It's the Book of the Damned spell, boyos. Take this wee crystal. It'll suck up all the blimey ghosts. Just say the magic word!»

Emma suppressed a giggle to escape her lips at Dean's antic when she saw the hard glare Thomas was throwing at the hunter.

« I do not think you will be able to contact her… » the Baronet sighed ostentatiously. « I really doubt she is still alive ! »

« Not quite ! » Sam shook his head, defeated. « I mean, we did try to kill her but she kinda hard to slay… And now she's within her son's protection, it's bloody impossible ! »

« Alright ! » Bobby clapped his hands, interrupting them, making everyone jump from surprise. « I guess we'll have to summon her as soon as possible… Pops, I need an iron container, red candles, salt, any nuts you have, a tea leaf and chalk for the sigil. »

To Be Continued