They packed everything up the next day. Thankfully, for Sam's sake, there wasn't a scratch on the Impala. Though he did leave out the little fact that he'd hydroplaned. You just never knew with Dean and his car.

He'd also finished explaining all the details of the Audrey Rose story to Dean, who'd just shaken his head.

"Can you imagine the power—the hate—that little girl felt towards her twin? All over a doll. Unbelievable."

"Explains probably why Annabelle didn't marry. She may have only been two, but to have the death of her sister on her head all that time…"

"I'm surprised she didn't try and kill her. You know, seek her out."

"I'm guessing she probably didn't go back to the lake house much. Considering how much her family did to cover up what really happened, I bet she didn't return until years later. By then, the ghost probably wouldn't have recognized her. Or maybe Annabelle didn't remember what had happened. Maybe she really thought she was an only child."

"I don't think so. You don't forget family, no matter how little you are."

"Yeah. I guess that's true…"

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

Dean looked at him over the top of the car. "Thanks for coming back."

Sam grinned. "No problem." He hoisted himself into the passenger's seat. "I knew you couldn't handle a doll by yourself. You're a pediophobe."

Dean narrowed his eyes, sliding into the driver's side. "I am not, Sam."

"Oh, I think you are."

"I think I'm not, and you better shut it before something really bad happens to you."

"Fine, whatever. But I'm stopping by McAlisteer's for a memento to remember this town by."

"You say one more thing about that baby doll, and I swear to God you'll be running all the way to San Francisco."

"All right. Not another word."

"NOT ANOTHER WORD."

"Done."

"Yeah, well, good. Now hang on. We got a stop or two to make before we blow this dollhouse of horrors."


They stopped by a small general-type store—Dean had to pick up something—then drove by the Amly house one more time. Aaron was sitting on the porch; Simon sat next to him engrossed in the portable video game. Anna was in her pack and play on the front lawn, jabbering contentedly.

"Hey!" Aaron called. "My grandparents just got in at the airport. They'll be here in a few hours."

"That's good," Dean said with a smile. Sam grinned at him. "Are you ready for the cold northeast?"

"Simon'll be ready for computers again, that's for sure. My grandparents said they'd take us wherever we want to go visit. I think I might want to go see a Bo Sox game."

"Baseball. Good stuff."

"Yeah."

Sally came out onto the porch. "Oh, you two again."

"Uh, sorry about the whole 'secret identity' thing," Sam said. "Are you going to report us?"

She shook her head. "I've decided I'm not reporting a thing. Not only would I be the laughingstock of the department, but I'd have to deal with seeing a lot more of him," she nodded at Dean. "So I think I'd rather just pretend it didn't happen."

Dean gave her a wicked grin.

"I think in this case, pretending it didn't happen is a very good option," returned Sam.

"Anyways, we're outta here. Just wanted to stop and say goodbye," said Dean.

"Will we see you again?" asked Aaron.

"You better hope not," said Sam with a laugh.

"Eh, maybe. But don't count on it, kid." Dean mussed Aaron's hair, who smiled, then wandered over to Anna, shaking out whatever he'd bought from its plastic bag.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her. He lifted a baby doll from the bag—a new one, with a softly carved face, and dressed in a beautiful lace bunting, with a tiny lace cap. Her eyes were glassy blue, and she had gold earring in her ears.

"I know it's not Olivia, but…her name is Emily. Emily Ann. I thought it fit."

Anna reached out for it, a smile on her little face. She hugged the doll to her. After a moment, she looked back up at him. "'Tanks fyou."

Dean grinned. "You're welcome."

His grin faded when he caught Sam, Aaron, Sally and even Simon staring at him, mouths opened. "Not a word, Sam," he muttered. "Not a word."


They left a few minutes later, waving bye to the kids, Sam still laughing softly.

Dean turned onto the highway, leaving sleepy Cariño behind. Zeppelin was blasting softly on the radio. The sign, with the numbers 6,666, was still glaring at the highway.

At least Mrs. Arnette wouldn't have to see it anymore.

"So," he said after a moment. "San Francisco?"

"What's in San Francisco?"

"I thought that's where you were going," Dean muttered, glancing over at him.

"Naw."

"Then where?"

Sam shook his head. "Doesn't matter, now."

"Why?"

"It's too late. I had to be there yesterday."

"Again, why?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Sam. Come on. Did none of what just happened mean anything to you? You showed up, you had my back—twice. I owe you."

"Dean."

"You're not in this alone, Sam. You realized that. I know it. It's time you faced up to it. No matter what you do, or where you think you're going to go, I'm not going to leave you behind, and I'm not going to forget about you. No matter how much you want me to."

Sam was silent for a moment. Dean watched him, then huffed, shaking his head, and moved to turn up the radio.

"It was Palo Alto," Sam said suddenly.

He cranked the stereo down. "Palo Alto?"

"That's where Jessica is buried. Palo Alto." Sam turned to Dean. "Yesterday was our anniversary. I was going to her grave. I was going to see her parents. To…apologize, or something."

"Then let's go."

"It's too late. Yesterday was the anniversary."

"It's never too late to remember, Sam. Or to cherish something. And you owe it to yourself to talk to her parents. If it bothers you enough to want to steal my car, then you need to talk to them. How much do they know, anyway?"

"Not much. They think it was a fire. An accidental fire, like the fire department."

"Then you go and apologize for not saving her from that. Or at least talk about it. Don't leave things to linger in the past. Face your demons, Sammy, and move forward."

"This coming from the son of the worst 'facer of demons' in the history of demon facers."

"He's your dad too, Sam. And besides that, Dad's different from you and me."

"And why's that?"

"He didn't have me constantly bossing him around. He wouldn't let me."

Sam laughed softly. "Yes, that much is very true."

"Seriously, though. It's not going to do you any good to let the past haunt you like it haunts Dad. You have to try and put it behind you."

"I know that, it's just…"

"What?"

"It feels weird. She wasn't a part of what we are now. Of this life. I actually liked that life, Dean. I loved it. I loved her. I don't want to forget her. And I don't want to involve her with this. She was the good part of my past. And I'd kinda like to keep it that way."

"Then keep it that way. No one said you had to forget that life. Or tell anyone about it. Frankly, I hope you don't. All of that 'rah-rah' swim team cheerleader type stuff is enough to bore any normal person senseless."

"Shut up."

"But…this is the life you're in now, whether you like it or not, and whatever happens from here on in, I'm going to be a part of. Hopefully a good part, too—though I'm not going to go to chick flicks and bake cakes and talk books and crap with you."

Sam snorted. "Thank God for that."

"Well, for the important stuff. The brother-type stuff, that counts. I'll help you through that, Sam. Whether you want me to or not. You're stuck with me, bro."

"Great. Stuck with you and your doll thing."

That wiped the pleasant smile from Dean's face. "Dammit Sam! What did I tell you? I don't want to hear about that again. EVER I swear I have no problems stopping this car and running you all the way to Palo Alto."

Sam laughed. "That'd be fine, just so long as I don't have to see you hitting on any more two year olds."

Dean made a face, flexing his fingers. "I'm going to pretend that we never had this conversation. I'm also going to pretend that you never took my car. I think, for your better well-being, you might want to consider that as well."

"Maybe," Sam said with a weary grin. "But you just remember—you're stuck with me, too. Bro."


Erin Moore cinched the bracelet around her thin wrist, tinkering with one of the charms. Inside the locket was a picture of her daughter, Jessica, as a rosy-cheeked baby.

She sighed. It had been a while, but she still felt the pain of Jessy's loss everyday.

Jessy's room remained untouched in their house, her pink, frilly curtains, Victorian style bed-and-chaise, and her multitude of antique dolls still in all the places Jessica had left them before her final trip to Stanford. She'd been so happy, over the holidays, visiting with her boyfriend, Sam.

Erin had really liked Sam. Dave had been particular about him, but after all, Jessica was his little girl. What father wouldn't?

There was a knock downstairs. She heard Dave answer the door, and a few moments later, he called her down. She ran a brush through her short, neatly coiffed hair, and headed for the stairs that led to the foyer.

"Oh my," she breathed.

Standing in the doorway, not but a few second after she'd thought about him…

"Sam."

"Hello, Mrs. Moore," he said awkwardly, his face heavy. There were dark circles under his eyes.

She smiled sadly at him. "Hello."

"How…are you?"

Dave coughed. "We're just fine, Sam. Why don't you come inside?" Sam nodded, moving in from the doorway. Lingering behind him was a very attractive man in a button down shirt and blue jeans, with blond hair and green eyes.

"Sam…"

"Oh. I'm sorry. Mr. and Mrs. Moore, this is my brother, Dean."

"How do you do?" she asked.

"Hi," he said. His eyes flicked to Sam, watching him apprehensively. "I'm…I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, Dean. Please, feel free to join us."

"Thank you," he said, flashing her a smile.

He has a smile that can light a room.

Sam danced from one foot to the other, his head lowered. "I…I stopped by because….I wanted to see you. To explain, or something. I wanted to be here yesterday, because…well…"

"Yesterday was your anniversary," she said. Sam appeared startled.

"Jessy talked about it all the time," she explained. "It's okay, Sam. You can talk about it. The fire—everything. Jessy was a happy girl. There is no shame in talking about her. We try to as much as we can."

Dave Moore set his jaw, his eyes red, and nodded. "We never want to forget her."

"Neither do I," Sam choked out. A tear rolled down his cheek. "Thank you."

Dean reached out a hand to his brother's shoulder. "Thank you for seeing us."

"Of course." Elizabeth smiled at him. "Now, please, come inside, I'll put some tea on. And maybe later we can go visit Jessy."

Sam nodded. "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

END "CHERISH"