Happy New Year, wonderful SPN Family!
I hope you all had a happy and safe holiday season, and that your new year has gotten started right! I wish nothing but the best and the brightest for all of you!
Special thanks to Jenmm31 for betaing this story, as well as being the best support system on the planet! Go check out her stories- she's got a bunch of them, and they're all fantastic. I strongly suggest the Emily and Kate ones- they're my favorite!
Love you people- go love each other!
A/N- This is part one of a three part story. In this story, Natalie is 19. Please see profile page for disclaimer.
Part 1
She ran. She ran as fast as she could. She didn't know where she could go, but she couldn't stop. It would get her if she stopped. Her bare feet practically flew down the old oak staircase as she struggled for breath. Whether she was out of air from the running or the terror, she didn't know, but at the moment, it hardly mattered. She had to get away.
She slipped a little on the dark carpet runner in the hall in her haste, not being able to properly see it at this time of night, and let out an involuntary scream. As she gathered herself and took off running again, she couldn't help but look up the stairs. It wasn't right behind her- whatever it was. But that didn't mean it wasn't coming.
She flew into the small study, slamming the heavy oak doors behind her and bolting them as quickly as she could. She took gasping breath after breath, now that she was safe. The solid, sturdy, dark wood separating her from the creature was comforting in a bizarre way. It had to offer some protection. Her exhausted, crazed brain tried to remember if there was still a landline in the study that she could call the police from. She let herself take one more calming breath before turning around.
The creature was standing in the middle of the floor. She gasped again, terrified, before clamping her hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming again. How had it gotten from the second floor to inside the locked room? The small figure reached out a gray, wispy hand towards her.
"Mama?" it said in a small, longing, ungodly voice. She shook her head violently.
"No, no, it's not me," she rasped, edging along the side of the room towards the desk. "I'm not your Mama." She quickly looked to her right- there was a phone on the desk. If she could only reach it-
The small creature's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Not Mama," it said in a foreboding voice as it stretched both tiny hands towards her.
The room turned a bright red. She heard a bizarre, high-pitched keen. She was dead before she realized it was the sound of her own voice screaming.
*SPN SPN SPN*
The steaming mug gripped tightly in his hands, Dean took a welcomed sip of coffee. As the liquid black gold rushed through his veins, he started aimlessly meandering through the hallways of the bunker. They had been here for about five or so years- holing up here when they were closer to Kansas than to South Dakota after a hunt. The discovery of the Men Of Letters Bunker had been fortuitous, but Dean had never really "rambled" through it before- he'd always been too busy.
He took his time walking down the hallway, sipping his coffee, noticing the walls, the rivets in the ceiling, the echoing thump of his large socked feet in the corridor. It was early enough that he wasn't surprised that Sam was still asleep. Natalie, however…
Dean wondered if his daughter had gone to bed at all last night. He had given up long ago on trying to make her have a normal sleep schedule. When she was tired, she slept- end of discussion. She was nineteen now- she could make those decisions for herself. Except when they had a case- then it was his way or the highway. If they were on a hunt, he made damn sure that girl got at least four hours every night to help her stay sharp. She always insisted that she didn't need it. She'd been throwing the same argument at him since she could talk. Only difference was she was slightly taller now than when she was two.
Just as he was wondering if she'd slept last night, he turned the corner into the war room. He stopped in surprise. Natalie was sprawled out on her back on top of the light-up table, her head off the edge, holding a newspaper, and apparently, reading it upside down. His brow wrinkled. He was used to finding her in weird places, but this one was new.
"Good morning?" Dean said, questioning her bizarre choice of position. Natalie lowered the paper towards the ground at the sound of his voice.
"Oh. Hey Dad. Morning." The paper went right back in front of her face.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked in his gruff voice. No amount of coffee ever prepared him for this girl.
"Looking for a case."
"Upside down?"
"It helps me think," she said from behind her paper. At that, Dean shrugged, and pulled out a chair close to her head. He wasn't about to argue until he was more awake. After another sip of coffee, he squinted at her paper.
"Find anything?" he asked, feeling the coffee spreading its warm joy through his senses. She dropped the paper to the ground with a sigh, letting her hands scrape the floor.
"Nothing," she said, the frustration clear in her voice.
"You know, not finding a case isn't the worst thing in the world, kiddo. Means people aren't getting hurt," he said, one eyebrow cocked at her. She sighed in typical dramatic fashion and sat up. Apparently she had been upside down for a while, because she gripped the table quickly as the world around her spun for a second. Dean hurriedly set his coffee mug down and reached out to grip her wrist.
"You okay?" he asked cautiously. After a moment, she nodded clumsily.
"Head rush," she said, quoting what had once been her favorite movie when she was a kid. She shook her head once more, then turned and faced him, wanting to talk about the lack of cases.
"I know it's not a bad thing, but I'm bored," she muttered, letting her legs kick back and forth. "We haven't been on a case in three weeks."
"So you miss the crappy motels and greasy diner food? The late nights and lacerations?"
"Yup."
Gripping his mug again tightly, he muttered. "Well, me too." After another slug of coffee, he patted her on the knee. "Something'll turn up soon, don't worry. Always does. Evil never rests."
She couldn't help it. She snorted a laugh, sounding just like Dean. "You sound like a Hunter's recruitment video." She adopted a pompous pose. " 'Only YOU can prevent Wendigos'," she said, pointing at Dean and using a deep voice, before grinning her father's shit eating grin back at him.
Dean's smirk twisted off to the side. "Watch yourself, otherwise I'll put the car keys up where you can't reach them again." At that, Natalie's bitch face came out, causing Dean to grin this time.
"That was so not funny."
"It was funny as hell."
Natalie just shook her head, her smile widening at the memory of her father's latest practical joke. "Well, I still won in the long run, so there."
"Letting a live ferret loose in the bunker does not count as winning."
"You're just mad because it crapped in your bed."
"Keep going. I'll hide your keys up even higher."
"Then I'm going to have to get a monkey that I can train to climb on stuff, retrieve keys, and pee in your boots."
Dean snorted out loud at that one. "You are so weird. You know that?" he said affectionately.
Natalie shrugged. "You didn't want weird, you shoulda dropped me off at the orphanage long ago. This is on you," she said, holding up her hands in mock sanctity. Dean just shook his head. A sudden thought occurred to him.
"Hey," he asked. "Have you checked with Jody lately? She might have heard something through the police channels that hasn't hit the mainstream yet." At that, Natalie's face lit up, just for a moment. But it was those moments Dean lived for. Natalie pulled her phone out of her back pocket to text Jody.
"You're so smart, Dad," she said proudly. Taking another sip of the liquid that woke his brain up, Dean grinned back.
"I have my moments," he said with a self-satisfied grin. As a new thought occurred to him, he cleared his throat, knowing he better tread lightly. "So. When was the last time you talked to Jody?"
Natalie instantly knew what he was asking, but wasn't giving in to it. She shrugged nonchalantly, but turned away from him under the pretense of pulling her legs up onto the table. "Been awhile."
"Since the memorial?" Dean asked carefully, watching her like a hawk for her reaction.
"Yeah. Somewhere around then," she responded. She tried to suppress it, but her voice grew a bit tight. She focused all her attention on her phone and blinked hard. Dean knew his daughter well enough to know that she was fighting off tears.
"Nat, look," he began, but before he could say anything else, she interrupted.
"Not getting good reception here. I'll be outside," she said in a controlled monotone voice. She slipped off the table, avoiding Dean's gaze. She raced up the metal staircase like her boots were on fire and shut the door behind her. Dean just sighed and dropped his head.
Just then, Sam walked into the war room, his own steaming mug of coffee in hand. "Where's Natalie?" he asked. He was sure he had just heard her voice a moment ago when he was walking down the hall. Dean snorted a mirthless laugh.
"Outside pretending she's looking for good reception on her phone," he answered. Sam's brow wrinkled in confusion, so Dean explained. "She's looking for a new case. I suggested calling Jody," he said, his eyebrows cocked. He knew Sam would follow his train of thought, and he was right.
Sam inhaled deeply and shut his eyes, almost feeling the pain his niece was in. "I don't think she's talked to Jody since Bobby's memorial."
"You're right- she said as much."
"So why did you suggest calling Jody? You knew it was going to get her upset again."
"Because she needs to start dealing with the grief, Sam. She can't keep shoving it down forever."
"That's the pot calling the kettle black."
"Yeah, you don't need to remind me. Look, Natalie's just itching for a hunt to distract her from being sad. So I'm trying to help her find a hunt. You know Jody hears crap before we do all the time. Maybe she's got something. And if this makes Nat deal with some of her baggage at the same time, then win-win."
Sam took a thoughtful sip. "Maybe. It's not like she held back when we were at home in South Dakota," he said. When Bobby had died and they had cleaned out his house, Natalie had talked, been open, even cried several times. But on the ride from South Dakota back to Kansas, she had gotten more and more quiet as the miles passed. When they got to the bunker, she was her normal self- until the subject of Bobby came up. Then she shut down so fast it was unreal. Both boys had tried to get her to talk about it, but she just flat out refused to.
"It's not like she hasn't lost people before this," Sam said, continuing his train of thought. "It's just…. this time, it was really family." Dean nodded in agreement, his eyes on the door at the top of the stairs. "At least we got to say our goodbyes, you know? At least she got some closure."
Dean tossed back the rest of his coffee and stood up. "Yeah. We ain't always so lucky," he grumbled, not wanting to discuss the topic anymore either. He looked at his brother. "So if she finds something, you game?"
"Of course. When am I not?"
Dean just shook his head. "That kid has more piss and vinegar in her than the both of us combined. Don't let her know I said this, but it's getting harder to keep up with her." Dean quickly looked at his brother. "Don't get me wrong- I CAN, it's just not as easy as it used to be."
Sam smiled ironically. "Tell me about it. But we'll keep hunting till we can't. Right?" He looked to his brother for confirmation. Dean nodded.
"Damn straight," Dean said, his grin back. "And it's getting easier to pass her off as an actual adult now that she's close to becoming one."
Sam snickered. "Why? Did she grow a foot last night or something?" Both brothers shared a chuckle. Natalie's clear height difference had always been the cause of much good-natured ribbing between the three of them. Natalie was a good foot shorter than Dean, and as her uncle continuously reminded her, a foot and four inches shorter than himself.
Still chuckling, Dean answered. "You know what I mean. She's starting to look like an adult. Won't be as hard to pass her off as an agent anymore."
"Well, she's definitely getting older," Sam mused, running his thumb along the edge of the table absentmindedly. "I really wish she'd have listened to me and at least thought about college."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam, will you let this go?"
"I'm just saying it wouldn't have killed her to look into it."
"You've been harpin' on the poor kid for three years. Let sleeping dogs lie."
"A degree isn't a bad thing to have, Dean."
Dean shook his head. "Degree ain't gonna help her gank a monster."
Sam snorted derisively. "You sound just like her."
"Well, she's right- she doesn't need college. She knows what she wants. I ain't gonna make her do something she doesn't want to," Dean said authoritatively. Sam couldn't help but smirk at the other little unspoken thing he heard behind Dean's words.
"And that has nothing to do with the fact that you don't want her going so far away from you, right?"
"Nothin' to do with it," Dean snapped, just a little too hotly. Sam just hid his smile in his coffee cup.
Just then, the door opened overhead. Natalie came prancing back down the stairs, looking like her old self again. Dean eyed her up and down looking for any signs of distress, but it was clear she didn't want to talk about Bobby or anything like that. And that she had good news.
"Jody says 'hi'," she announced. Sam nodded and swallowed his mouthful of coffee.
"She doing okay?" he asked. Natalie nodded in the affirmative.
"Yup. Alex is good, Claire still hates me, so everyone's good and normal. But Jody's got nothing either," she said brightly. Dean wrinkled his brows.
"Then why you soundin' so chipper?" he questioned. Natalie's thousand-watt grin lit up her face.
"Because after I got off the phone with her, I got a text from Jake." That got Dean's attention immediately.
"Jake? Jake who?" he asked, instantly suspicious.
"Jake my friend from when I was little," she answered promptly, like she wasn't causing her father to have a heart attack right then and there.
"I don't remember any Jake, Bug," Sam said, trying to figure out who she was talking to.
Natalie tilted her head to the side. "You guys remember when we were in Ohio that winter when I was six? I had just started back on the road with you guys. Dad, you took me to a park and I played with a bunch of other kids and kicked that bully's ass?"
Dean made a face at her. "How the hell do you remember that?" he asked.
"Because I'm a lot younger than you and my memory is better," she said, a saucy grin sliding onto her face. Dean just grimaced at her.
"You really want those car keys hidden, don't you, little girl?"
"ANYWAYS, Jake was one of those kids in the park then. When you took me back the next day, he gave me his phone number."
It was Sam's turn to laugh. "Wow. A player on the playground." He turned to Dean, grinning at his turn of phrase, but Dean was just glaring. Sam faced his niece again. "Wasn't he just a little kid then like you?" he asked, hoping to get back on topic.
Natalie chuckled. "Yup. He liked the fact that I could do cartwheels, so we stayed in touch." At that, Dean leaned forward towards her.
"You managed to stay in touch with him all through these last years? You didn't get your own phone until you were thirteen. How the hell did you pull that one off?" he said, dumbfounded. Natalie smiled smugly.
"Why do you think I was always stealing your phone? I got friends all over America," she said cheekily. Dean just shook his head and grinned.
"You little brat," he said admiringly. He started thinking about what a nineteen-year old Jake would want with his Natalie now, but before he could utter a syllable, Natalie held up her hand, knowing exactly where her father's brain was heading.
"Don't worry- nothing's going on between us. We're not sexting or anything like that," she said, trying to reassure him. However, at hearing her say "sexting", both Sam and Dean shuddered. Dean pointed a finger in her face.
"You ever say that word again, I'm cutting your tongue out with the demon knife," he threatened. Natalie rolled her eyes, but kept talking.
"Jake said that he heard about a case that might be us, though," she said, a sparkle returning to her eye. Sam held up his hand.
"Whoa- hold on there. This Jake knows what we do?" he asked, suddenly nervous.
Natalie put on a pacifying grin. "Ever since we were kids."
Dean suddenly stood upright. "You mean to tell me you've been telling people about this since you were six?" His voice had a dangerous ring to it. Natalie's eyes slid to his and knew she better diffuse the bomb.
"Not 'people'. Just Jake," she said quickly but soothingly. "You told me not to tell anyone. And I didn't tell him until I was like sixteen, and only because he forced it out of me. He's never told anyone," she said, her gaze going back and forth between them.
"You're sure about that?" Sam pressed. She nodded.
"Positive. He wouldn't lie to me," she said confidently. Sam and Dean exchanged a look, but both came to the same conclusion. What was done was done. And if this kid had known about what they did for three years, then Natalie was right- he hadn't told anyone. Otherwise, that information would have come to light much earlier and, more than likely, in a not-so-pleasant way.
Dean gave Natalie The Eye. "Anyone else we ought to know about?"
"No, sir," she said unwaveringly.
"Alright. So what did Jake have to say?" Dean asked begrudgingly. The sparkle immediately returned to Natalie's eyes.
"He said that he heard about an incident in Maine where a woman was found burned to death in her home, but there was no trace of anything else in the house being burned. Not even the floor underneath her was scorched," she said. "Sounds like something to check out, right?"
"How did this Jake hear about it?"
"One of his army buddies."
"Jake's in the army?"
"Yeah. He got wounded overseas- caught a bit of shrapnel from a bomb exploding. He's fine- he's made a full recovery. But he's now stationed in the U.S. and heard about this case through the grapevine. If the military guys have heard of it, it's probably legit."
Dean nodded, conceding her point. "Why don't you do some research, see what you can dig up, and then we'll reconvene in an hour."
"I'm on it!" she said, already halfway down the hallway in her excitement. Dean turned to Sam, his familiar grin in place.
"Feel like a road trip to Maine?"
*SPN SPN SPN*
The next afternoon, Dean and Natalie pulled up outside of the house in Saco Bay, Maine. Natalie had been able to zero in on the case, thanks to Jake's lead. It seemed that a woman had been discovered burned to death from inside her locked study, but there was no sign of arson, foul play, or even any other burn marks in the room. Sam had found some other local lore about a haunted lighthouse, so he was back at the motel trying to see if there was some connection, while also doing research on the rest of the area. Natalie and Dean had donned their Fed Threads, and hit the road.
As Dean handed over her fake ID, Natalie bounced enthusiastically. "Ooo, can I be Bad Cop this time?"
"No," Dean said without a moment's hesitation. Natalie's face fell into a pout.
"Why not?"
"Because A- we're just checking out the case, not interrogating someone. And B, you suck at being the Bad Cop."
"I do not!"
"Kid, you're great at a hell of a lot of things, but being mean ain't one of them."
"I can be a raging bitch. You know that better than anyone."
"Yeah- to me, or someone else you know that loves you unconditionally. But to new people? Forget it. You can't even frown at them."
"You are being overdramatic. I can too."
Dean just fixed her with a look, which she responded to with an eye roll. He pointed his finger in her face. "No Bad Cop. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," she grumbled, reaching for the door handle. Dean chuckled to himself as he exited the car. Leave it to him to have a kid who got testy for not being able to play the bad guy.
As they wandered up to the house, ducking under the yellow caution tape roping off the porch, a lady cop with salt and pepper hair walked up to them. "Can I help you two?" she asked, eying them warily as they wandered into her crime scene.
In tandem, Natalie and Dean both reached for their badges and flashed them at the cop. "Agents Plant and Jones, FBI," Dean said casually. The woman looked mildly confused, more as if their presence was an annoyance rather than unexpected.
"Chief Wilers," she said by way of introduction. "We never heard the FBI was getting involved," she commented coolly.
"Kind of a last- minute thing. We happened to be in the area, head honcho sent us over here to check out the situation," Natalie answered back evenly. The cop eyed the young girl once, but decided not to pursue it.
"Alright then. Right this way, agents," she said, turning on her heel and walking towards the room filled with other members of the local law enforcement. Natalie's eyes quickly scanned the room as she ducked around people taking fingerprints, pictures, and picking up small samples of stuff and putting them in plastic bags.
"Wow. Looks like you've got a lot of this covered, Chief," Dean complimented, looking around at the bevy of well-organized, professional people. Wilers nodded once, acknowledging the praise, but her lips were pursed tightly.
"We're trying to make up for lost time," she said, a touch of frustration in her voice.
"How's that?" Natalie asked.
"By the time the victim, Ms. Lovett, was found, she'd been dead for at least two days, according to our experts," she growled, clearly unhappy with the information.
"Two days, huh? Why did it take so long for someone to raise the flag on her?" Dean asked.
"Allegedly, she died somewhere between Friday night and Saturday morning. Can't pin the time down exactly- there wasn't much left of the poor woman to examine," the Chief said. "Her housekeeper wasn't due in till Monday, so no one was here over the weekend or even noticed she wasn't around."
"That's a shame," Natalie offered. "You said it was her housekeeper that found her? Any chance she was connected in some way?"
Wilers shook her head. "We've questioned her, but she's got a rock solid alibi. Not to mention she was the one who called it in. We don't think it was her," the Chief finished with authority.
"Any other witnesses?" Dean asked.
"None that have come forward. Her neighbors are snowbirds- more than likely on a beach somewhere in Florida right now. The house to the left hasn't had anyone in it for a couple months now. We've put the call out to the community, but it seems like no one even walks near this part of town, you know?"
As Dean and Chief Wilers continued sharing notes, Natalie wandered and looked around the room, careful not to disturb the people at work. The small plastic number tents that cops used to identify possible evidence were littered around one particular area of floor. Natalie could only assume that was where they found the victim. She casually walked over and squatted down. She took a tentative whiff, but there was no trace of sulfur, either in smell or appearance. She stood up and took a look, noticing the décor for the first time.
There were photographs everywhere- on every mantle, every bookshelf, ever surface. They looked like they ranged in age from the late 1800s to the mid 1930s. She tilted her head as she examined the old Victorian picture frames. These antiques had to be worth a bundle. She gently touched one of the picture frames, admiring the tiny, braided detail around the edge of the mahogany wood- it was just so pretty. She looked elsewhere, but every other place seemed to just have books and other tchotchkes in it- nothing terribly special.
Dean sauntered over to her. "Wilers is going to clear her men out for a hot second," he commented lowly in her ear, making sure no one could hear. "I'm gonna shake the sheets down here, see what I can find. You check upstairs, see if anything red lines on the ol' EMF."
"Yes, sir," Natalie said. She made her way out of the room, towards the stairs. She took a second to straighten the cockeyed hall runner with her foot before ascending upstairs. She waited until she was absolutely positive no officers were up on the second level before pulling out her homemade EMF detector and flipping it on. The needle spiked immediately, making her purse her lips just like Wilers had done downstairs. She quietly went from room to room, but the readout stayed firmly in the red the entire time.
After about ten minutes exploring the upstairs, Natalie heard Dean's whistle. She trotted back to the top of the stairs, where she saw her father waiting for her. He jerked his head to the right and walked back towards the study, indicating that she should follow. She took the stairs at a pace, and walked back into the study. All the officers had left, and it was just Dean, Chief Wilers, and a new face. Natalie smiled pleasantly at the younger woman, then looked to Wilers for an introduction.
"Fiona, this is Agent…" Wilers started, then looked to Natalie. "Sorry- I forgot. Been a lot going on these last couple days."
"Don't worry about it," Natalie reassured with a smile. "Agent Jones," she said, extending her hand towards the young woman. She took it nervously, shook it once, and then wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Natalie judged her to be about mid twenties.
"Fiona Rapp," the woman said, her eyes fixating on the spot where Wilers had said Ms. Lovett had been found.
"She's the housekeeper who- " Wilers began.
"WAS the housekeeper," Fiona interrupted nervously; her eyes still glued the spot. Wilers tilted her head and cleared her throat at the interruption.
"Excuse me. Was the housekeeper for Ms. Lovett." Wilers gave Dean a side eye, silently reminding him that this was the woman who had found the body. Dean returned it with a subtle nod before turning his attention to the young woman.
"Fiona? Is it okay if we ask you a couple questions?" he asked evenly. She shrugged.
"I'll tell you exactly what I told the police- I just found her here, dead. I didn't have anything to do with it," she said, copping a bit of an attitude.
"You seem awfully defensive for someone who doesn't have anything to do with it," Natalie jumped in immediately, trying to sound authoritative. Wilers and Fiona both looked at her with surprise, but Dean gave her The Eye, knowing exactly what she was doing. She was trying to play Bad Cop after he had just told her not to. Knowing that Dean would bench her immediately if she didn't shut up, Natalie just looked inquisitively at Fiona and tried to ignore the fact that she just stepped in it.
"I didn't," Fiona said hotly. "I was at my boyfriend's house, watching the game on Friday night."
"Look, Fiona, we know you didn't have anything to do with it. My partner gets a little big for her britches sometimes, and I apologize," Dean said, shooting his daughter another dagger-filled glance. Natalie just casually shifted her stance and tried to look nonchalant. "But we just have some routine questions, if that's okay."
The young woman shrugged again. "Sure, go ahead." Dean gave Natalie another side eye that clearly said keep your mouth shut, I've got this before plowing ahead.
"Alright. Chief, will you excuse us?" he asked Wilers. Without a word, the Chief turned on her heel and went into the next room. "Okay, Fiona, when did you discover Ms. Lovett?" Dean proceeded to ask.
"On Monday morning, when I came in for work. She's usually making coffee just as I'm getting here. She wasn't in the kitchen, so I went looking for her. The study door was shut. I didn't even know that the study door shut, so I knew something was up."
"How did you get in?"
"There was a set of skeleton keys in the kitchen drawer. I tried them until I found the one that fit….and….." Fiona closed her eyes and turned her face away, unable to say anymore. Dean hurried to the next question.
"Now, did you see or smell anything unusual on Monday morning?"
"Unusual? Like more than the burned carcass of my boss?"
"Like cold spots, smells of rotten eggs, that kind of thing."
"Well- nothing more than usual."
"That kind of thing usually happened around here?"
"I never really thought anything of it. The temperature's always been touchy in this house, but I never thought it was unusual."
"Touchy like- always cold?"
Fiona nodded. "It's a super old house, so I just thought the insulation sucked. You just learn to wear a sweater around here."
Dean nodded, then his eyes flicked over to Natalie. He silently let her know she could jump in again if she had questions she wanted to ask, which she did.
"Fiona, how well did you know Ms. Lovett?" Natalie questioned. Dean gave her a bit of a warning glance, reminding her that this wasn't accusation time. But Natalie was fully aware of that; she had another string of questions in mind.
"Okay, I guess. I had been working for her ever since she moved here about three months ago."
"She had just moved in? Any idea why she moved?"
"She had just gotten a divorce, and was trying to restart her life." Fiona rolled her eyes. "Guess that didn't work out too well for her, huh."
"How did you find out about the job?" Natalie asked.
"She put an ad in the paper, saying she needed part time help for such a big house. I was the only applicant."
"The only one?"
"Oh yeah. This house has been abandoned for years. Apparently, she got a really good deal for it."
Natalie and Dean exchanged a quick glance, both on the same wavelength. "Why has a nice house like this been abandoned for so long?" Natalie questioned.
Fiona shrugged again. "No clue. Been empty as long as I can remember," she said. "We all just stayed away from it. Everyone in town thinks it's creepy- I'm not sure why. But the money was good, so I jumped in." After sharing another quick glance with his daughter, Dean nodded at Fiona once more.
"Well, thank you for your time. Here- this is my card," he said, handing over one of his fake cards to the young woman. "If you think of anything else that might be helpful to us, give us a ring." He looked at Natalie, jerking his head over his shoulder, indicating that it was time to go. She followed him, but Fiona's voice stopped them.
"Do you guys have any idea what killed her?" she asked bluntly. Dean's face instantly smoothed over.
"Not yet. But we'll figure it out, don't you worry," he lied gently. She just nodded, gripping her arms tightly again, before walking over to Wilers in the next room. With another nod to the Chief on the way out the front door, Dean said in a low voice, "So- haunted house much?"
"Tell me about it," Natalie muttered back. "The damn EMF was red-lining the entire time it was on."
"Yeah, I had a feeling it'd be something like that," Dean growled back, thinking. "Let's see what Sam dug up. And- by the way," he said, changing the subject. "Apparently you and I need to have another talk about following orders." Natalie's heart stopped for two seconds, till she nervously looked at Dean. He had a hint of a grin on his face, letting her know that he was just giving her a hard time.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said loftily, trying to smother her grin as well.
"Oh really, little Miss 'you seem awfully defensive'?"
"I was just asking her a question. Oh wait- did you think I was trying to be the Bad Cop?" she asked, all innocent and doe-eyed. Dean just snorted and shook his head. "Because see, that's how good I am at it. I wasn't even trying, and still came off like the Bad Cop."
"You are so full of crap. You know that?" he teased. She playfully nudged his shoulder as they walked towards the Impala, chuckling.
If either of them had looked back at the house at that moment, they would have seen the small, gray face staring at them from the second story window. But they didn't. As the car doors of the Impala slammed, the face disappeared.
