A/N: Thanks a lot for the great reviews! Trying to update as much as I can…enjoy!
Spuffyshipper: No, Amy is not pregnant…I intended that little part to show she was physically sick in some way…
O.O.O.O.O.
Chapter Nine
Her Story…Revelation Part 2
Around nine-thirty…
Sam sat by the black table, kneeling over to write two separate addresses on a sheet of white paper. His hand moved across the paper quickly and once he was done Sam stuck the paper in the pocket of his dark brown jacket.
His back sunk into the leather cushion of the couch. A strand of hair strayed across his forehead. His hands rested slowly on his legs as he looked at the object sitting beside him. Dad's journal.
It took a moment before Sam reached over for the journal and touched the old brown leather. He opened it slowly and found the place Dean had marked for him earlier.
There was a place in the book where John Winchester seemed to have glued and stapled the page due to lack of paper. The notebook paper that was clearly now a part of the book read PSYCHICS at the top in their father's writing.
For the record: Information given in 1993 with the help of Missouri Mosley:
The powers that these 'psychics' possess range from visions to the possibility of moving things just by thought. These people who are gifted with these paranormal talents can reach their late seventies before realizing that they even have these powers. Some psychics can read minds, predict the future, see the past, have the ability to speak or connect with the dead, on rare occasions there are those who are 'telekinetic' and can move things just with their mind, there are also those who have certain 'feelings' about things and their feelings intend on being right.
It takes time and faith for a psychic to be able to reach the highest point of their power. Time, meditation, and strong will are the key components for these powers to ever work completely beside (what most psychics experience) time-to-time psychic occurrences.
There is more information about psychics out there but new things are being learned about these abilities every day.
Closing the book slowly, Sam reached up and ran a hand through his hair. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. How the hell is this supposed to work?
Sam turned in the couch when he heard "Dean, Sam!" and Amy came walking quickly out of the hallway.
Dean, who had been out in the balcony, came back into the living room and closed the glass doors.
He stood and Sam asked, "Everything okay, Amy?"
"I'm fine, Sam…" Amy said quickly. "It's just…sorry about that little thing before…I just wasn't feeling well for a moment."
Dean, wearing his black leather jacket, asked, "Did that shower help?"
She shrugged and put on an impeccable smile. "It did. So…are you guys leaving soon?"
Sam and Dean nodded.
Amy stuck her hands in the back pockets of her faded jeans; she wore a blue T-shirt with her brown leather jacket over it and white sneakers. Her long brown hair was held up by a black clip.
"Sam…Dean…" Amy mumbled slowly. "I think I need to go with one of you…"
"Go?" Dean asked. "Oh no, it's fine," he said quickly, "we just have some work to get out of the way…you'll be bored…"
"I actually had in mind that I go with you Dean…to the museum…" Amy explained. She seemed on-edge for some reason. "I know Sam is going to go talk to the victims' families. And I have an interest in this Natiskawa story. Besides…you both going in separate directions in one car…and cab fare and all that…Dean, let me take you…"
He shook his head and said, "Amy, it's really fine. I'm just going to get a little history lesson. Please-"
"Dean," Amy whispered more sternly. "Please…I'd like to go with you if you don't mind."
Her voice was so determined in going. Sam turned to Dean and cocked his head and gave him the It's-not-a-big-deal look.
"Amy…" Dean tried. "Like we explained before…we're in the detective business and we have to be secretive about this…"
"I think your dad would be okay with my going," Amy added in quickly. She put her hands on her hips. "I think your dad wanted me to get involved with this…research…"
Before Sam or Dean could say anything else, Amy reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her car key.
"Let's go."
O.O.O.O.O.
There was no arguing with her. Sam mentioned that it would be easier driving with Amy around – and saving money – and so Sam could drive Dean's car to see the victims' families.
Amy and Dean pulled out of the parking lot in her white Mini Cooper and both watched the black '69 Impala take off ahead of them.
They sat in silence before Dean reached over and turned the radio on. He found a good station – mostly loud, rock music that involved yelling – and made himself comfortable in the passenger seat.
"The museum is about twenty to thirty minutes away," Amy offered. "And since neither of you have identification for your work…I can use my teacher's ID…I'd like to hear what Mr. Harris has to say."
Dean rested his elbow by the window and turned to Amy. "I don't get it Amy…why the sudden interest in joining in?"
"Well…let's just call it curiosity…I just want to know what it is you and Sam do so much for Sam to completely desert his home and go on this road trip with you…and why your father was in on it too…"
If only I could tell you…Dean thought sadly. But how would that work… 'Hey Amy…just stopping by to see you and we're checking out these murders who we think were done by a dead Egyptian princess'…
"Dean?" Amy asked when they came into the main road and stopped at a red light.
"Hmm?" he mumbled while looking out the window.
Amy rested her elbow too against the window while her hand rested firmly on the steering wheel.
"Sam seems different...aloof and sad…" Amy mentioned. "What happened?"
She turned to look at Dean who seemed to find it hard to find the correct words.
"Amy…" Dean explained slowly. "Sam's girlfriend Jessica…she died…"
"What?" Amy gasped quietly. She remembered Sam mentioning a girlfriend a while ago. There was a pang of guilt and pain in her heart. She felt awful for Sam.
"That's why Sam isn't taking the road to becoming a lawyer…he and I have been driving around…doing our work…our father too."
Poor Sam…Amy thought sadly. Oh, Sam. I'm so sorry.
"It was bad at first for Sam to deal…but he's been better now…" Dean added gently.
Silence overtook them once again. Dean remained quiet while his thoughts pondered over his brother. Amy, trying to respect the silence, put both hands on the wheel and continued to drive.
O.O.O.O.O.
Ten-twenty…
1291 Fossel Drive…
Sam pulled up the quiet driveway in the black car. He turned the ignition off and slowly peered up at the house. It was made of gray stucco and had a Weeping Willow tree in the front yard. Several pumpkins were lined around the tree – Halloween was a couple weeks away.
He climbed out of the car and closed the door as his eyes traced over the house. Sam slowly made his way across the yard and came up to a dark blue door. He knocked three times and took a step back and waited.
A moment later, the door opened and a small boy of the age of thirteen answered. He had curly black hair and wore a T-shirt with a guitar on it.
"Is this the home of the McMillan family?" Sam asked.
The boy nodded.
Before Sam could say anything else, a couple in their fifties came into the doorway. They seemed like a regular couple – both wore jeans and a T-shirt of some kind – they smiled at Dean and the father asked, "Can I help you?"
Sam stared at them sadly. He pursed his lips and asked slowly, "I was wondering if I could ask some questions about your daughter Taylor…"
O.O.O.O.O.
Sam sat at the white kitchen table with Mr. and Mrs. McMillan. There were three tall glasses of iced tea but no one seemed to be drinking.
"She was eighteen…" Mr. McMillan said slowly. His hand and his wife's were clutched together. "She would be nineteen in January. She was going to go off to Miami State next year. My son, Isaac, came home from school and found her car in the driveway…but Taylor was gone from the house. When night came…my wife and I called the police…they reminded us to give it forty-eight hours before contacting the police…but it's my daughter…
"We called her friends and no one heard from her…there was a big search party that night…" Mr. McMillan paused and rubbed his eyes.
His wife tugged the sleeve of his shirt and tried her best to smile. She turned to Sam and continued, "Two days later…her body…Taylor was found in the old Prescott Factory about five miles away…h-her arms…and stomach…and neck… the writing…"
Sam nodded sadly. He gave the couple a mournful sigh and asked, "How was Taylor before…did she act strange at all? Did she say things that might have been odd?"
"I don't understand," Mr. McMillan responded. He and his wife exchanged a look.
"I'm asking these questions because six women have been murdered in the same way…all women…I'm trying to find out if they had any connection to each other in some way. Why were they targeted…"
Mrs. McMillan shook her head and said, "I'm sorry, son, Taylor was an average girl. She made A's and B's…she played lacrosse and was part of the yearbook staff…and she was involved in church – we made sure of that – and…"
"Our daughter went to Sunday and Wednesday night church…" Mr. McMillan finished. "Taylor wasn't involved with anything except for her schoolwork, church and friends."
"Have her friends said or asked about her behavior before she-" Sam started.
Mr. McMillan stood up in his seat, shaking the table slightly. Sam watched as several drops of ice tea collided with the table.
"Son, I think that is enough…please…my family has been through enough…" Mr. McMillan tried to say without sounding rude.
He stood up slowly and Sam gave them a sorrowful glance. "I'm sorry."
O.O.O.O.O.
Sam was walking down the hallway of the house and reached the front door. Before he could turn the bronze handle, the young boy stood beside him.
"Hi…" Sam greeted softly.
The boy looked up and said, "I'm Max…"
"Hi Max…" Sam smiled. He held his hand out and the boy shook it slowly.
Max looked up and Sam felt so sorry for him suddenly – he had the face as if everything in his world had been destroyed.
"Taylor…" Max started. He choked back some tears and looked up at Sam. "My parents made her go to church."
"They made her?" Sam asked. Confused, he knelt down slowly so he was eye to eye with the brother.
"They said it was good for her…" Max whispered. "They said she was blaspheming against God…"
"How?" Sam asked seriously.
Max stuck his hands into his pockets. Tears seemed to form but he was trying to be strong.
"Taylor said things…" Max choked out. "She…she told us one night…th-that while she was in class…she used to dream about things…things about our family…and f-friends…things that were right…Mom and Dad thought she was just dreaming…but then Taylor s-said…she said she never slept through class…"
He reached over and placed a calm grip on the boy's shoulder. Max sniffed back the tears while Sam looked at him. "Max…" Sam asked gently. "Did Taylor tell you that she could see things…"
Max nodded.
O.O.O.O.O.
The Chicago Museum of Art's parking lot was filled with three cop cars and a delivery truck.
Amy and Dean had parked the car by the side of the road and quickly made their way to the entrance. The museum was a gigantic two-story rectangle and painted in a shade of light orange.
The two came to the front and walked up the grand steps toward the five different sets of black-glass doors.
A police officer, standing guard of the entrance ways, saw Amy and Dean coming and took a step forward.
"We're here to see Edward Harris…" Dean said firmly.
"Sorry-" the officer started.
Amy quickly revealed her teacher's ID that she had in her inside pocket. She flashed the card of identification to the large police officer's face.
He nodded and allowed them to pass.
Dean looked at Amy while they went to the doors. "I need to get one of those."
O.O.O.O.O.
The main entry way was mostly just endless halls of paintings. The centerpiece of the hall was a Greek statue of a god.
Amy and Dean looked up at it and turned when a man, most likely Edward Harris, came toward them.
He wore a black suit with a white tie. He was somewhere in his forties and had curly blonde hair. He was smiling handsomely at the two as he approached them.
"Security told me you two were looking for me, I'm Edward Harris," the man greeted and held out his hand.
Dean shook hands with him and said, "I'm Dean Winchester."
"Oh yes, the student," Harris said, "I got your message early this morning."
Harris turned and looked at Amy.
She held out her hand and greeted, "I'm Amy Cromwell, Professor of Art History at Northwestern."
"Ah, Professor Cromwell," Harris replied. "Glad to meet you. So, how can I help the two of you today? Ancient Egyptian history, right?"
"Professor Saton is a friend of mine," Amy responded. "He was just telling me and my student, Dean here, about the Natiskawa story."
"Ah, Natiskawa…" Harris said slowly, smiling. "Daughter of Ramesses III…twentieth dynasty…not a story most hear about."
"My dissertation is mostly about the pharaoh," Dean intervened, "Natiskawa became an interesting topic."
"It is quite an extraordinary legend. Natiskawa and the Magi Cult…" Harris mumbled slowly. "Come, follow me."
O.O.O.O.O.
Harris led them to a section where the Egyptian Treasures opening would take place. A banner was placed high above them in the room. It was vastly decorated with palm leaves and different sarcophagi were being set up. There were glass cases that held fragile artifacts such as jewelry and pottery.
They walked into the large room and held his arms out. He then led them over to the side where some of the sarcophagi were. Amy viewed each piece carefully but Dean pulled at her arm to follow them more quickly.
Taking them to a specific sarcophagus in the back, Harris pointed through the protective glass box.
Amy and Dean looked inside and viewed the Egyptian coffin. Amy's eyes lid up as Dean looked at it closely. The coffin was open – and an old mummy lied there; the remaining yellow teeth could be seen in the corpse's mouth.
"I'd like you to meet Natiskawa…" Harris whispered.
"Natiskawa?" Amy exclaimed.
Dean looked quickly at Harris.
"Actually, this is who I think is Natiskawa…" Harris explained. "This coffin in particular is interesting because the Magi writing – these sort of…cat scratches…-were found by the coffin and in the coffin. The Scholars in Cairo have absolutely no idea who this is. For all they know – or care – this could have been a servant of Ramesses."
"Do you have any more proof that this is Natiskawa?" Dean asked.
Harris sighed sadly and said, "We found two different pieces of parchment in the sarcophagus…the legendary Magi writing was found in it…unfortunately…one of the pieces was stolen right when the shipping arrived. Quite a disaster really. It's the reason for all of this security."
"There were two?" Amy asked.
Turning, Harris pointed at a small glass case and Dean and Amy walked over toward it. Inside the small glass box was something similar to the artifact Dean had swiped.
"Luckily we still have this one," Harris shook his head.
Two artifacts…two pieces of parchment…Dean thought.
Amy turned to Harris and asked, "Sir, tell us about Natiskawa…"
Harris looked back at the mummy in the glass box and turned back to Dean and Amy.
"The Forgotten Daughter of the Pharaoh…" Harris started. "She was denied by her father and the rest of her family. I don't think she was treated badly. Emotionally damaged, yes."
"Professor Saton said it was because of a birth defect or…-" Amy asked.
"She was crazy?" Dean asked.
Nodding, Harris thought for a moment and said, "Yes. Quite right. My sources have told me now that they've gained information from locals – those who know the story quite well – believe it was because of the 'crazy' part. Ramesses was quoted shortly before he died about his daughter's death…he said something like she would 'scream like the servants' and 'babble like the seers'…apparently Natiskawa claimed she controlled some type of power from the gods."
"Seers…you mean psychics?" Dean realized slowly.
Harris nodded meekly and stuck his hands in the pockets of his suit. "The Magi Cult was so obsessed with her…as you know…they stole the Book of the Dead and were able to make a spell for Natiskawa. It was to protect her in life and in death. From what I've heard recently, it was also meant for her to gain power. But she died in her father's prime…so obviously that didn't work…Professor Cromwell, here, come look at this fascinating mummy arm…"
Harris took Amy's hand and led her away from Dean. He watched as they left and turned back to stare at the second artifact.
She was a psychic…Dean pondered. The Magi Cult made a spell to protect her in life and death. Two pieces of parchment…six dead females…and here's her mummy…
O.O.O.O.O.
"We have a dead-pissed off-psychic-Egyptian princess who has killed six women…why…" Dean explained on the cell phone with Sam.
Dean stood by the mummy sarcophagus – possibly Natiskawa – and made sure Harris and Amy were still a distant away looking at more Egyptian artwork.
Sam, who was driving down through the city, held his cell phone close to his ear and turned momentarily to look at the laptop in the passenger seat and then his focus went back to the road and the conversation.
"Dean," Sam explained quickly, "Taylor McMillan, the eighteen-year-old, the first victim in Evanston…I think she was psychic…and I did research on the Carolina Grimes murder…two weeks earlier she broke her arm…you know how – some kid in her neighborhood was playing in the street – the kid gets in the middle of the road – car comes – driver doesn't see him – the kid would have been run over but Carolina pulls him out of the way – in the police report, a witness said they saw her run out of the house and ran straight toward the kid…from her house…she couldn't even see the kid on the street!"
"Wait…the victims are psychic?" Dean asked, flabbergasted.
Nodding to himself, Sam explained more, "And get this…one of the victims was an old woman…she ran a psychic hotline and told peoples' fortunes over the phone…"
"Damn…" Dean breathed. "Sam…Natiskawa was apparently into the whole ESP thing too…AND there's another artifact like the one we have. Different writing, though. We also have a mummy here who could possibly be her. But Sam, in your dream, you saw a man kill Carolina Grimes…"
Sam thought for a moment. He – along with Dean – was trying desperately to process everything together.
His eyes slowly lit up and Sam went on, "Dean…I bet you anything the guy I saw in my vision was around the time shipment arrived with the mummy and the artifacts…Natiskawa jumps into his body and uses him as her own puppet – especially to kill."
"But why kill?" Dean asked. He turned back and looked at the mummy. His eyes studied the old brown wrappings and yellow teeth again. Then, he went back and looked at the artifact.
"Sam…" Dean wondered, "some spirits are powerful enough to kill people themselves…we know that…so why does Natiskawa use her special puppet…"
"Natiskawa killed them…" Sam whispered slowly. "Dean…two different times – the same procedure – the man put his hand on the girl and he muttered something in Egyptian and his eyes glowed black – his hand too – and he did this twice…the first time…the girl didn't die…but the second time…"
"She's sucking the life out of them," Dean realized. "But the first time…"
"Psychics…" Sam breathed. "She's taking their powers…then their lives…"
Dean put a hand on his forehead and turned to look back at the mummy once again.
"I doubt now burning the mummy would help now…if she's taking in psychic energy and life…Sam, dammit, she's getting ready to bring herself back to life…remember…the Magi Cult…they made a spell or something or her so she could be strong in life and in death…"
"Dean I don't know what to do now…" Sam exhaled.
The two brothers took everything in slowly.
Dean, biting his lip, said, "We'll meet back at Amy's. You're the only thing we have to figure out how to save the next snack for Natiskawa…"
He hung up.
Turning around, Dean saw Amy walking back to him quickly.
"Well, I've definitely heard enough," Amy sighed annoyingly. She tugged at the sleeves of her jacket and looked at Dean closely. "Are you okay?"
"Sam found out some stuff," Dean explained. "Me too. We need to get back to your place."
O.O.O.O.O.
Sam was already inside of Amy's apartment. He sat down on the couch with his chin resting on his fists.
She's killing female psychics…she's trying to get power…she's killing innocent people…so she can come back. Sam closed his eyes tight. Dad, how are we supposed to figure all this out? How do we fight her? Destroy her?
The door swung opened and Dean ran inside. Amy was directly behind him.
Sam stood up and looked at Dean and Amy. He turned to his brother and asked, "Well, I think we've figured out the culprit. Now, how to take her down."
Dean looked back at Amy and said, "Amy, Sam and I are gonna talk more about this on the balcony."
She was about to protest but Dean and Sam both made their way to the glass doors.
"The basketball court!" Amy randomly shouted after them.
Dean and Sam turned around, giving her a curious look. "Amy, what the hell are you-" Dean asked.
Amy put her hands to her face and then she hugged herself momentarily. She looked up at Dean and Sam with tearful eyes.
"He said…he said 'For someone to deny something so great…they are to be shown their error'…" Amy muttered.
Sam's eyes grew wider; he narrowed them at her. "Amy…"
Amy continued, "She was on the basketball court…she couldn't get away…this…wind…the wind kept pushing her back down…and the man…he was wearing white and black…the woman had a cast on her arm…she tried to fight…he said something in Egyptian and he touched her…there was a black glow…and he did again…and she died…he cut her…three lines that-"
"Looked like a tree," Sam and Amy finished together.
Dean looked back at forth at the two.
Amy took in a deep breath. She touched her neck and rubbed it gently. "Guys…we need to talk about what happened while your dad was here…"
Dean's eyes grew big. He understood now. He looked at Sam who was completely gaping at their old friend. Amy, stuck her hands into her pockets, and bit her lower lip.
O.O.O.O.O.
A/N: Well, I think I got the major part out of the way. I am trying to move the story along as fast as I can.
I'm pretty glad things are out in the open now in the story.
Hope everyone is enjoying!
Feedback/Reviews appreciated.