Sam tore through the rain, his wipers going full speed, trying to see into the darkness. Cariño couldn't be too far away, now.

He'd just spoken with Amos.

Yeah, Sam. Twin girls, born on September 24th, 1902, at the general hospital. Big news—they were born to the Anderson family, real powerful back then. Annabelle Rebecca and Audrey Rose."

"What happened to Audrey?"

"That's a bit strange. Nobody seems to know. There's no death certificate on file in San Fran. But I did find an article talking about how a little girl drowned in a pond near a town named Cariño two years later, sometime in the spring."

"Was it Audrey?"

"See, that's where it gets funny. Article didn't mention names, and there was only one on file. But after that, there was nothing mentioned about twins and the Andersons. It was all about the little 'girl'—Annabelle. She was the one who got all the attention. Audrey just…well, she just disappeared."

"Anything else? Please, Amos, I need something!"

"Well, there ain't many people still living who'd know something about it, but I spoke with a historian who knows the area. Said that Elizabeth Anderson went regularly to Cariño every spring, right around now, and stayed for a month. She didn't associate with society really, after that. Most people thought she was just crazy."

"And there's nothing else on Audrey Anderson?"

"Nothing. No baptism, no coming out, no marriage, no nothing. No hospital—not even dental. She just disappeared, Sam."

She just disappeared.

She didn't disappear. She died. She died in Cariño, and it has something to do with that doll.

Cariño couldn't be too far away.

"One more thing, Sammy. I couldn't reach Dean. Maybe he's the one not getting service. Or he ain't answerin,' one of the two."

He hoped it wasn't too far away.


Thunder boomed overhead.

Dean glanced up, keeping an eye on the sky. With the trees as tall as they were, he'd be lucky not to get the shock of his life.

Well, actually, I guess I've already had that…

He could barely see through the pouring rain. The Amly house was somewhere behind him, and the area where Anna had walked into the trees was nearby.

He entered the canopy of the tall cedars, the rains dying away slightly with the cover.

"Anna?"

His voice echoed through the hollow of the trees. It was chilly out here.

Damn little kid's going to catch pneumonia.

"ANNA!" He jogged through the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of something white. The doll she had in her hands was nearly as big as she was—she couldn't be walking very fast.

She shouldn't have been able to go out the door and down the steps in the first place…

Something glimmered in the distance. He turned, and jogged out after it.


The rain was coming down hard, now. He could have sworn he hadn't driven that far out of Cariño.

"One more thing, Sammy. I couldn't reach Dean. Maybe he's the one not getting service. Or he ain't answerin,' one of the two."

Come on, Dean.

Sam punched "talk" again. Dean's number flashed on the screen.

I couldn't reach Dean. He ain't answering…

It rang through.

Sam clicked it off, his thumb tapping the wheel impatiently.

We're supposed to stick together, Sammy. It's what we do. It's who we are. You got my back, I got yours. For everything.

"Dammit. Pick UP." He tried again.

This time, there was no ring.

It went straight to the mailbox.

Dean wouldn't ignore him this long. And he certainly wouldn't ignore Amos.

His battery is dead. Or something happened to it…

Sam slammed his foot to the floor, gunning the car as fast as it would go.


Dean really wished Sam was here.

The forest was so wide, there was no way to tell which direction Anna had gone. Shadows, and the lightning flashes, played with his eyes, making it hard for him to pick out what was real and what was just his mind playing tricks on him.

Sam could back him up, help him out.

But Sam's in San Francisco by now…

Sam wasn't here. He'd have to go it alone.

The forest seemed to be getting darker. The rain wasn't letting up at all.

What time was it?

He yanked out his phone.

"Aww…je…dammit!"

The phone had cut off. Battery—or shot 'cuz of the rain.

"Perfect. Alone in the middle of freakin' Brigadoon, in a monsoon, searching for the Speedy Gonzalez of Toddlers. Brilliant. This is not how I wanted to spend my night, Sam!" he yelled to the trees.

There was a soft sound, like a breath of air, which floated towards him.

Was that…laughter?

The sound came again, from the northwest.

He stuffed his phone in his pocket, and picked his way through the trees.


Sam trucked back to the Impala, holding his coat overhead. The rain was pouring down on the valley, soaking everything within miles of Cariño.

The motel owner said Dean hadn't returned.

Dean's phone was dead—probably shorted in the rain, or maybe out of batteries.

Either way, he couldn't get in touch with him.

Dean had gone to visit Aaron—Sam was certain he was there. At the Amly house.

Please let him be all right.

Amos had called him back, right before he'd entered Cariño.

"It was scratched from the books. By the family. Probably paid someone off to burn the death certificate in Cariño, too. But she died there, Sam. Audrey Rose. Drowned. I found a newspaper article talking about it in the Boston archives, where the Mom's family was from. The Andersons had a reach in California, I tell you what—they destroyed nearly every bit of information about it—wouldn't touch the birth certificate, of course, for Annabelle's sake—but they basically pretended like Audrey didn't exist. Like it had never happened. But they couldn't get them all."

"Amos…what happened?"

"She was drowned…some say she was killed by her sister."

"What!"

"They were only two, so it seems far-fetched…but the paper had an eyewitness who saw the body pulled from the pond. They said the twin was watching when she was pulled up. Acted like nothing was wrong. Went straight up to the body—didn't cry, didn't scream, nothing. She just took that doll out of her dead sister's arms. Hugged it, the paper says, and said..."

"Mine," Sam finished breathlessly.

"Yeah, that's right. 'Mine.' They said the Mother went crazy after that. So they pretended like there'd never been another girl. That Annabelle was an only child. I'm guessing she forgot herself that she was a twin. But that little girl still died, Sam. And it wasn't a pleasant death. My guess is, that spirit of hers is probably still hanging around, looking for her doll."

"And maybe," Sam said softly, to himself, "her sister."

Annabelle. Annabeth. Both only two years old.

He raced through the town square. The Amly house was down from the Arnette house.

Not too far, now.

Dean…


"ANNA!"

Dean screamed out into the storm. It was no good. His voice was picked up by the wind. "ANNAAAA!"

The baby girl was nowhere to be seen.

Where the hell did she go to now?

"AAAAANNNNAAAA!"

He could hear the voice of the Sally Lewis, somewhere towards the road.

I could have sworn I heard laughter. Must have been the wind…

He heard the sound again. Light, even laughter.

It was coming from right in front of him.

He dashed up a small knoll. A pond unfolded before him, raindrops dotting the surface. Up the hill across the water, he could barely make out the backside of a familiar house. A burned wreckage of a house...

The Arnettes…

Anna was standing at the edge of the pond, holding onto the doll.

"Anna," Dean panted, trotting down the hill. "Good grief, kiddo. You had us all worried."

She was staring at something in the center of the pond.

"Anna…"

He bent down next to her. "Anna, it's time to go home. Your brothers are worried about you. Come on." He moved to pick her up in his arms.

A roar sounded around them.

Dean watched as a hole suddenly parted in the center of the lake. The water whipped towards them, fanning out in a geyser. He picked up Anna, and started away from the lake.

"Mine," the little girl whimpered, clutching her doll tightly. "Mine."

Miinnneeeee…

Something was whispering through the trees. Leaves swirled all around them. Overhead, the lightning crackled.

Miiinnneeeeee…

Dean glanced behind him, nearly tripping over some of the exposed roots of the great trees. There was nothing there.

"MINE!" Anna screamed.

He faced forward, stumbling to his knees. A baby was in front of him, her bright blond hair curled into two tiny pigtails. She wore a pretty white dress, Victorian style. He glanced at the baby in his hands, doing a double take.

They looked exactly alike. If Anna hadn't felt so warm and alive in his hands, he would have wondered who he was holding.

"Mine," the little girl said quite plainly. Her little pink finger rose, pointing at Anna.

At Anna's doll.

"Mine."

"Anna," Dean whispered in the toddler's ear. "Give the girl the doll."

Anna shook her head, her wet, light hair swishing against his chin. "No."

"Anna," he repeated, trying to get a hand on the doll. "Please."

"No," she protested with a small, rosy-lipped pout. "Mine."

"Mine," replied the girl in front of them. Her eyes were a strange color—blue?

No. Silver.

"Mine." The sound of her voice dropped, rolling into a roar. "Mine."

The rain was coming down in a silver sheet, soaking them to the core. His breath began to mist in front of him. The wind was picking up, swirling the dried leaves around them.

The little girl in front of them began to emit a strange light. Her face hollowed, taking on a grayish tint. "Mine," she moaned.

"Anna!" Dean said forcefully. "Give her the doll!"

"NO! MINE! MY DOLL! MOMMY MINE! MY DOLL!"

"ANNA!" He struggled with her, trying to pull it from her hands. She was strong.

It was her mother's gift to her. She doesn't want to let that go.

"Anna, please. Please. Your Mommy will understand."

Crocodile tears were rolling down Anna's cheek. The wind was growing extremely cold.

"Please, Anna. Your Mommy loves you. She wants you to live. She won't care if you lose the doll."

"Mommy…" she sobbed.

"I'll get it back for you…"

Her grip on the doll loosened a little. He yanked it out of her grasp, tossing it towards the figure in front of them. "TAKE IT."

"Mine." The girl said, reaching out a ragged, bluish hand to grab the doll.

She pointed at him again. "Mine."

"You have what you want!" he shouted, his voice being drowned by the storm. "Go! Leave her alone!"

"No. Mine. Anna. Mine."

"Anna…" he glanced down at the sniffling little girl in his arms.

Oh God…

"No. She doesn't belong to you."

"Anna. Mine."

Dean began to back away, cradling Anna close to him. There was nowhere to turn—nowhere to run.

"MINE!"

The figure before him morphed completely—a decrepit, sunken faced little child appeared before him, her eyes black hollows, her skin blue, ragged, her clothes rotted. "MY ANNA. MINE."

"No," he whispered.

A powerful burst of energy slammed into him, knocking him off his feet, a full twenty yards into the air. He cradled Anna against his chest, preparing for impact.

Dean crashed into the trunk of a giant tree, his head slamming into the wood. He slid to the ground, his entire body aching from the force of the blow. He gasped, trying to catch his breath. His back was on fire, and his head was pounding. Anna had her tiny hands wrapped into his leather coat, her head buried in his shoulder. She was shaking.

"It's all right," he whispered. "You okay? Be strong for me, okay?" He winced as he got up, glancing around behind him. The trees extended up and all around them.

The ghost had disappeared.

"Hang on." He took off his jacket and flannel, bundling her up.

The rain was falling down, silently. Thunder was still rumbling, but at a distance. The biting cold had subsided. He knew the house lay in the direction of the south, somewhere.

"Hang on, Anna."

He picked her up, and took off.


Sam raced down the drive of the Amly house, a sawed off shotgun, filled with rock salt, in the waist of his pants. He banged on the door. "DEAN! AARON!"

He heard scrambling inside the house, and a few moments later, it swung open. Aaron stared at him. "Mr. Sam!"

"Is Dean here?" Sam panted.

"He…he…hurry! He went in the back, he went after Anna! Ms. Lewis is looking for them too!"

"What happened to Anna?" Sam cried, following Aaron through the house to the back door.

"She got out. She took her doll with her, and she went into the forest. It's been raining a lot now."

"It's raining," whimpered Simon, who was sitting curled in the corner of the kitchen.

"Did you see anyone else?" Sam asked, opening the porch door.

"No," Aaron said cautiously. He shoved Sam outside, closing the door. "But I think Dean went after the little girl."

"Little girl?"

"The one who looks like Anna. She tried to…she…" Aaron's lower lip trembled. "She killed my mom."

Sam gave him a sympathetic look, placing a hand on his head.

"She's mean, Sam," Aaron said. "She might hurt Anna. And Dean."

"She won't hurt Anna," Sam said, taking the stairs off the porch three at a time. "Dean won't let her."

"That's what Dean said!" Aaron called back.

God…Dean…

Sam raced into the forest.


Dean's left knee was radiating pain. He'd stumbled a few times. The cold had subsided, but it hadn't disappeared. The entity was still nearby—and was still after Anna. He stumbled into the deep roots of the tree, which were nearly large enough to hide him, and Anna.

Mine…

Anna whimpered.

"You have to stay real quiet for me, okay? Okay, babe? Just real quiet. Be strong for me." He lifted the bundle in his leather jacket, trying to ignore the burning pain in his legs and back, and took off once more.

Something white shimmered in front of him. He turned away from it, sprinting through two tall cedars. The rain was no more than mist now, the storm having past, though the wood remained silent, and cold.

There was another white flash. He turned again, his breath coming out in ragged puffs, his eyes burning.

A familiar knoll emerged in front of him.

He charged up it—and stopped.

The lake spread out in front of him, the water rippling a bit from the wind.

Water droplets around him began to frost over. His breath was a cloud in front of his face.

Minnneeee…

He turned, his back to the lake. The decrepit figure had appeared in front of him, the Olivia doll clutched in her hand. She pointed at the bundle in his arms. "Mine."

He grinned. "I don't think so. I guess ghosts can make mistakes."

He shook out the bundle, the leather jacket dropping away.

Anna wasn't with him.

He greeted the ghost with a face full of salt. Common table salt, but that's all he had—Sam had taken everything else with the Impala.

"Mine," he snarled, grabbing for the doll.

The ghost screamed, dissolving in the face of the salt, which most demons and ghosts could not tolerate. Dean sprinted down the knoll, limping slightly, the doll clutched in his hand.

A roar filled the woods.

He felt a force whirl around him, stripping the doll painfully from his hand, and wrapping around his chest. He struggled against it, but immediately he knew it was fruitless. An entity filled with hate, seeking revenge for some unknown sin—and the more it sought, the stronger it became.

Something that felt like a fist slammed into his middle, sending him flying through the air. There was nothing to grab, nothing to hold onto. Just the water rushing towards him. He lifted his arms to his face.

The cold, biting water of the lake pierced his skin, through his t-shirt. Dean tried to regain his balance, but it was difficult in the churning water. The force around his middle still had him anchored, and, like a great weight, was dragging him down into the middle of the pond.

Tendrils waved around his legs—the pond grass, growing long and flowing with the water, brushed against him tenderly. It tangled itself around his arms, his waist, his neck.

His chest was burning.

Above him, a figure in white was floating down, towards him.

A cold, empty face, with a single teardrop.

Jeez…not that…anything but…

The Olivia doll floated down, smiling her empty smile at him.

He thrashed against the tendrils, against the force holding him down. It was no use. They were too strong. His lungs were on fire.

The doll landed on his chest, its cold porcelain face staring emptily at him.

Just perfect…

His vision was getting blurry.

Anna…I hope you can get away…

"Anna," he mumbled. Water rushed into his mouth. His vision was growing blacker, and his chest hurt. He had to take a breath.

Sammy…

There was nothing but darkness.