Good Evening! You look amazing today!

So when last we left our heroes...hee hee hee. I know that's a stupid way to start this, I've just always wanted to do that. You fabulous people know what to do. Read, review, enjoy, and keep being awesome.

Special thanks to my bestie beta, Jenmm31!

A/N- this is part two of a three part story. If you haven't already, go back and read the previous chapter, otherwise this ain't gonna make a lick of sense. In this story, Natalie is nineteen. Please see Profile Page for disclaimer.

Part 2

"Well, Sammy, whatdaya got?"

Sam looked up from his laptop as Dean and Natalie came crashing into the motel room. Natalie immediately tossed her jacket on Dean's bed and flopped face down. Sam looked at her patronizingly until she rolled her eyes, got back up and picked up her jacket.

"I was just leaving it there for a minute," she grumbled, walking towards the tiny closet on the opposite end of the room.

"Natalie, you need to take better care of your clothes," Sam scolded for the umpteenth time. "You're old enough to know that." Natalie didn't respond as she hung her jacket up, pawed through her duffel bag, and extracted running clothes. She walked into the bathroom, but left the door open a crack so she could hear what Sam had discovered.

Dean yanked his tie loose. "Just tell me where the corpse is so we can salt and burn the bastard," he said. Sam reared back in surprise.

"How'd you know it was a haunting?" he asked. Dean fixed him with his duh look.

"Gee, I don't know Sam. Because I haven't been hunting for over forty years and have no idea what a freaking haunted house is like."

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Then you also know it's probably not going to be that easy."

"What do you mean?" Natalie shouted from the bathroom, still changing.

Sam raised the volume of his voice a little, so she would know he heard her. "I mean that back in the early turn of the century, that house used to be an orphanage."

"Son of a bitch," Dean grumbled, knowing that this case just got a hell of a lot more complicated. "So you saying we're dealing with the undead children of the corn? How many kids died there?"

"Well, that's just it," Sam said, gesturing to his laptop. "I can't really get any record of anyone who died there at all."

"Hold up. Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Get this. According to the records and articles that I can find about it, it seems like it was a happy place, by all accounts, until around 1934."

"What happened in 1934?"

Sam shook his head. "Apparently, the orphanage just shut down. The woman who ran it-a…." Sam quickly clicked on anther open tab. "-Miss Cortadine…. Lydia Cortadine- died of tuberculosis, and no one stepped forward to run the place, so they just decided to shut it down."

"I thought you just said no one died there."

"She didn't die there. She died in a hospital near there."

"Doesn't mean she's still not haunting the old homestead," Dean jumped in. "What about the kids that were there at the time? What happened to them?"

"Uh," Sam said, looking for another tab he had opened. "Here it is. Says they were all transferred to another orphanage, and within three years, they had all been adopted." Sam looked up at Dean. "Doesn't really sound like there was any reason to cause vengeful spirits."

"Any complaints of child abuse or anything like that during Lydia's time here?" Natalie asked, emerging from the bathroom, her white shirt and suit pants folded over her arm. Sam watched her as she hung them up right next to her jacket.

"Thank you," he said, a bit prissy, gesturing to her clothing. Natalie barely restrained from rolling her eyes as she trotted back over towards them. Despite the fact that she was almost a legal adult, they both could have a tendency to treat her like a child. Sam returned his attention to his computer. "No, nothing like that. Like I said, by all accounts, all the kids were happy, well fed, taken care of, the works. There's nothing to suggest that anything bad went down."

"You think it's the woman haunting the house?" Dean pressed. "Unfinished business, looking for her kids, that kind of thing?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe. Still doesn't seem like a reason a ghost would kill," he said, deep in thought.

"Yeah, well, since when have ghosts ever made sense?" Dean retorted. "Floatin' around all disembodied for decades can mess with a person's sense of right and wrong."

Natalie giggled at Dean's joke, then got back to business. "Any idea where the lady is buried?"

Sam shook his head. "Haven't gotten that far," he commented. But before he could say anything else, Natalie plopped down right onto his lap, and pulled the laptop closer to her so she could see better. After a moment of surprise, Sam pursed his lips and looked around to her face.

"Please. Make yourself comfortable," he said flatly.

"Thanks!" she responded brightly, continuing to type away.

"Bug, go sit in your own seat," he said, gently trying to shove her off his lap.

"Naw, I'm good. Besides, you used to love it when I did this."

"Yeah, when you were four."

"Don't know what you're complaining about. You're the one who always says that I haven't gotten any taller since then," she shot back. Both boys could hear the grin in her voice. If they were going to treat her like a child- well, two could play at that game.

Sam chuckled. "You got me there." He put his hands on either side of her without realizing it- an automatic throw back to when she would clamber up onto his lap as a kid and he would have to keep her steady so she didn't tumble off his lap in whatever excited state she had happened to be in at the time. He leaned over towards the laptop to see what she was typing.

"Aaaaaaaaaand- got it," Natalie said, clicking on the link in a satisfied manner. She leaned down and squinted at the screen. "Looks like this is the oldest cemetery in town. That's where we should go." She stood up and started to make her way towards the door.

"You found it that quickly?" Sam said, a little nonplussed that he hadn't been able to find it yet.

She shook her head. "Nope. No record of where she was buried. I'm just figuring she'll be in the oldest cemetery in town."

"Not exactly logical, Bug. It depends on when the town was founded, when she moved here, all that. You know that."

"So? We'll go check it out. What else have we got to do except dig her up?" she retorted, lacing up her sneakers.

"Kid, it's four in the afternoon," Dean reminded her. "We start digging up graves now, we're gonna get arrested."

Natalie just shook her head in amusement. "I'm not going to desecrate a grave in broad daylight. I know better than that, duh. I'm going for a run. You guys wanna join me?" she offered. Sam stood up, trying not to let the nonchalant nature of her conversation bother him.

"Sure thing, Bug, I'll join you," he said. "Give me a second to change." He snatched a pair of sweats from his duffle and headed into the bathroom.

Natalie turned and looked at Dean inquisitively. "What?" he said gruffly, knowing exactly what she wanted. She was nineteen- she knew better than to ask him to run by now.

"Come on, Dad. When am I going to get you to run with me?"

"The same day I join AA."

"It'll be good for you!"

"Squirt, I made it this far in life without jogging. I start exercising now, everything's going to get thrown off balance. It's more healthier for me to stay here and watch TV."

" 'More healthier'? Are you kidding me?"

Dean shrugged. "See? Just talking about jogging is making me loose brain power." Natalie couldn't help but chuckle.

*SPN SPN SPN*

Later on that night, around two a.m., the Winchesters stood back from the newly dug up grave. To the boys' disbelief, Natalie had been right- a fact that she had reminded them of several times during the dig. Neither Sam nor Dean responded to the taunts, but they had had several silent conversations behind her back. However, at the moment, they had more important matters to attend to.

Dean sprayed lighter fluid all over the rotted corpse. As he reached for his lighter, Natalie suddenly spoke.

"Can I light her up?"

Sam pinched his lips at her. "Natalie, show a little more decorum."

"Oh. Sorry. Can I please light her up?" she said with a cheeky grin. Dean chuckled low; proud that she had gotten the jump on Sam for once.

"Just for that, absolutely you can," Dean interjected before Sam could tell her off again. Sam just stepped back and rolled his eyes. Natalie pulled a flip top Zippo out of her pocket. Carefully and precisely, she struck it against the leather sleeve of her black jacket. The lighter flickered to life instantly, and she dropped it into the open grave, immediately setting its contents ablaze.

Dean watched her entire performance, and gave her an appreciative nod. "You're getting better at that," he complimented, gesturing to the time-honored way that he always struck his own lighters up.

She shrugged proudly. "Been practicing." She turned to Sam with a smug smile. "That's how all the cool kids light their lighters."

Sam snorted a laugh. "If you're using your dad as an example of 'cool', boy, have you got a surprise coming."

Natalie laughed as she gathered up the shovels, Sam quickly reaching down to help her. As they made their way back to the car, Natalie stretched her neck from side to side. Despite the fact that she'd been going full speed all day, did a two-mile run this afternoon, and was still up at 2 in the morning after digging up a gravesite, she still wasn't that tired.

"Hey," she said suddenly. "We should go by the house- make sure that we got the ghost. You know?"

Dean sighed. This old act. She'd been avoiding bedtime ever since she was born. Now that she was older, she could actually think up legitimate excuses for staying up until doomsday, and it annoyed the crap out of him. "Kid, it'll wait till morning."

"Aw, come on!" she pleaded. "I'm not tired. Can I just go? By myself then? I'll drop you off at the motel and- "

"Absolutely not. Quit arguing with me. We're going home." Back in the old days, that would have been the end of it. But the older Natalie got, the more it seemed she tried to push the boundaries.

"It's on the way back. Just five minutes?"

Dean stopped in his tracks and turned around to face his daughter, who had broken out her best puppy dog eyes. "Are you gonna keep pestering me until I say yes?"

"Maybe."

"Fine. Let's go."

*SPN SPN SPN*

Around two thirty am, Dean cut the lights to Baby as they pulled up close to the curb. They had pulled up on the opposite side, just to keep anyone from seeing a car directly in front of the house that was being combed over for evidence of a murder. Natalie immediately bounced out of the car, while Sam and Dean just sat and thought for a moment. In tandem, the boys turned to each other and had another silent conversation. She rolled her eyes, then leaned down towards Sam's window and knocked. With a patient look, he rolled it down. She stuck her face back into the car.

"C'mon. The sooner we check the place out, the sooner you old geezers can get to bed," she said in a teasing tone. To her surprise, however, Sam gave her a bit of The Eye.

"Bug, I know you're all full of 'youthful energy'," he said. "But you know that you don't just charge into something like this. You need a plan."

"Aw, come on. We salted and burned the old broad…."

"Natalie….."

"It's a done deal. Let's just take a run through with the Ghostbuster gear and call it."

"Alright. That tears it," Dean said suddenly. He exchanged a knowing glance with his brother, who nodded back. Both boys got out of the car simultaneously, causing Natalie to step back. Sam exited the car, then turned and faced her, his hands jammed in his pockets, while Dean made his way around to the sidewalk. When he got to their side, he stood right next to Sam in the exact same pose. Natalie's eyes nervously flickered between the two. She used to get this face-off all the time when she was younger and in trouble, but she couldn't think of what she had done now.

"What?" she said, a touch of fear in her voice. She didn't care that she was nineteen- anyone would be nervous, no matter what their age, if the Winchester Brothers were facing them like that.

"Kid, you're being reckless and sloppy right now," Dean said firmly. Natalie's jaw dropped open. She was immediately hurt that he said that, but he wasn't done. "Not to mention immature. And I don't just mean tonight. You're not sleeping like you should, you didn't listen to orders when we went to check out the house the first time, and you're about to blast into that house like a freaking bull in a china shop. What gives?"

Natalie's face suddenly became stoic- just like Dean's did when he was shutting down. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and stared at her boots, just waiting for the "talking-to" to be over. Sam exchanged another quick look with Dean before trying his hand at getting through to her.

"Listen, Bug- running off to conquer the world isn't going to help you right now," Sam said gently. Natalie knew instantly what he was getting at, but she didn't even want to think about this- not now.

"Don't know what you're talking about," she said evenly, continuing to stare at a beetle crawling slowly on the sidewalk.

"Natalie," Dean said, in a tone that meant business. The child inside of her shrank a little, but the adult wasn't giving in. She remained perfectly still, staring at the beetle like her life depended on it. "Look, squirt," Dean began again in a slightly less-rough tone. "We know you're having a hard time dealing with Bobby's death. Okay? It's not been that long, and that kind of emotional baggage- well, you don't get over that in a day. But that don't mean that you run off half-cocked into a dangerous situation. You're smarter than that. We know what you're going through, okay? Both Sam and I, we've been there before. And it sucks. But it ain't a reason to put yourself in danger. You hearing me?"

"Yes, sir," Natalie answered back, completely devoid of all emotion. Dean and Sam exchanged yet another silent glance. She was hearing them, but she wasn't listening.

"Tell you what," Sam said gently, reaching out a hand and putting it on her shoulder. She didn't react at all when he touched her, and Sam wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad sign. "When we get back to the motel, we'll have a couple beers and talk. Okay?"

"Yes, sir," she answered again robotically. Sam's heart turned in his chest. Why wouldn't she let them help her through this? Before either of them could make another argument, she shifted her weight and looked up. The same determined, stoic look was still on her face.

"So. What's the plan?" she said evenly, looking back and forth between them. Sam sighed. At least she was thinking somewhat logically again, if she was asking for a plan. A small step in the right direction. This kid was the most stubborn person on the planet- it was about the best they could hope for until her mind changed about dealing with the grief.

Dean pinched his eyes shut for a moment, before slipping back into work mode. "Alright. Rock salt shells and iron," he said, nodding at his brother. Sam gave a nod back in response, walking over towards Baby's trunk.

Still not making eye contact with her father, Natalie muttered. "I'll get the EMF," but before she could take one step towards it, Dean reached out and grabbed her by the arm. That caused her to look up into his face. She was expecting The Eye, but was surprised to see worry and concern there. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The fear in his eyes told her what he was thinking. Both her heart and her face softened.

"I'll be careful, I swear," she said gently. Dean set his jaw and nodded once.

"You better be," he said back quietly, but there was no trace of animosity in it. She smiled at him. He squeezed her arm once before letting it go and put his arm around her shoulders as they walked towards the arsenal in the trunk.

*SPN SPN SPN*

Armed to the teeth with a sawed off, crowbar, and trusty .45, the Winchesters silently made their way over to the house. Dean was in the lead, but Sam was right on his shoulder, Natalie jogging behind them. Father and daughter surreptitiously looked to the right and the left down the dark, moonlight-reflecting street as Sam withdrew a small leather pouch from his pocket. After a quick click of Sam's lock pick, they crossed the threshold into the living room.

Natalie and Dean both clicked on their flashlights, shining them all around at the heavy oak paneling and faded pictures. "Geez- all this dark wood in here makes it way creepier at night," Natalie murmured, looking around, pointing her flashlight at the photos.

"Yeah, 'cause there's not enough to freak people out at night already in this world," Dean grumbled in reply. "Come on. We'll start at the top and work our way down," he said, pointing his own flashlight towards the stairs, keeping his .45 at the ready. He started making his way towards the upper landing, Natalie right on his heels, when he noticed that it was only the two of them. He swung around, looking for his brother. He didn't have to look too far. Sam was looking at the old, gilded picture frames on the mantle.

"Sam, let's go," Dean said impatiently. Sam continued to stare at the picture.

"Natalie, come here," Sam said, completely oblivious to Dean's order. Natalie trotted back down the stairs and over to her uncle. He picked up the picture and held it out to her. "Do you see what I see?" he asked her quietly.

Natalie took the picture in her hand and pointed the flashlight at it. It was a picture from somewhere around the late 1920s, judging by their fashion. There were about five children in the picture, surrounding a lady who looked to be around thirty years old. "Hm- possibly one of the pictures from the orphanage?" she said to Sam, looking up at him. He shook his head and pointed to the picture again.

"Yes, but that's not what I mean. Look at the lady," he instructed. Natalie focused on the woman instead of the children, and got a sudden, uncomfortable jolt.

"Whoa- she looks like…" she trailed off.

"You," Sam finished her thought.

The woman in the picture had the same dark hair as Natalie, and judging from the size of the bun on top of her head, it was roughly the same length. Even though the photograph had faded to a sepia tone, her eyes were definitely on the lighter side. She had Natalie's chin and forehead, but the nose….

"I mean, the nose is all wrong," Sam said, in that uncanny moment of reading Natalie's mind. "But you see it too, right?"

Natalie nodded, and then handed the photograph back to Sam, still uncomfortable with the revelation. "Yeah- that's creepy weird."

"You two done? I'd like to get back to the motel before daybreak," Dean said, irritated. Both Natalie and Sam jumped a bit at that, and rushed up the stairs after him. They followed Dean's stomping boots and muttered under-his-breath threats all the way to the second floor. Natalie flipped on the EMF meter. The needle didn't move at all.

"Getting nothing," she said quietly, giving it a quick glance before looking up. She carefully examined the pictures on the walls of the upper landing, both intrigued and afraid that she would see her likeness again. But all of these pictures were of the children. She reached out and touched the ornate frame with its braided detailing.

"Wow. These Victorians sure knew how to decorate, huh?" she said casually out loud. Both Sam and Dean were busy examining the other rooms and didn't answer her. She shrugged, and kept checking the other rooms.

"All clear up here," Dean called out.

"Same," Sam replied. Natalie trotted out into the hallway, meeting both of them.

"Still getting nothing," she said, shaking the EMF detector. There was a strange rattling from it, which made her surprised. The detector shouldn't rattle like that.

Oblivious to that, Dean nodded once. "Alright. Scour the first floor, then high ho, high ho, home to beer we go," he quipped with a sarcastic grin. Sam shook his head and the three of them walked down the stairs.

Still concerned for the rattling sound she heard, Natalie tucked her flashlight under her arm, trying to point it at the EMF detector as she followed Dean down the stairs. She shook it again with both hands, and was rewarded with the same rattling sound as before. She flipped it over, and popped open the battery casing. One of the batteries had come loose. Cursing at herself for not checking it first, she pushed it back into place with her thumb. Instantly, the detector came to life and let out a high frequency squeal. She quickly snapped the battery casing back on and flipped the meter over.

"Dad," she said in a high, strained voice, stopping on the stairs. Dean turned around and looked at her. Wordlessly, she held the meter out to him. The needle was firmly buried in the red zone. Sam immediately whipped around, looking for anything behind them, while Dean's hunter eyes scanned the area of the stairs in front of them and the floor of the downstairs living room. As he turned back to Natalie to say something, he stopped again. He could see her breath.

As one, the Winchesters each immediately drew their weapons. Sam pointed the sawed off behind them, Dean's favorite silver .45 was trained on the ground level, and Natalie hurriedly jammed the EMF in her pocket and withdrew the iron crowbar she had tucked into her jacket. As one, the three of them moved down the stairs.

Just as Sam's feet hit the main level, the ghost appeared. Sam and Dean instantly trained their guns on the apparition, just as Natalie brought the crow bar up in a defensive pose. It was a ghost, all right. But what they weren't expecting was that the ghost was a child.

At first glance, it seemed like a faded copy of a photograph. The boy's hair was neatly combed to the side, and he was wearing shorts with a wool sweater. One of his shoelaces was untied. The wispy, deep gray creature tilted it head, looking at the three of them. Its eyes slowly scanned Sam first. He squinted its eyes, as if that would help him see better.

"What. The. Holy. Hell," Natalie hissed as the ghost continued its perusal of Sam. But the sound of her voice made it stop. The ghost focused its gaze on her. The little dead boy's eyes widened with wonder.

"Mama?" it whispered. Natalie felt a chill go down her spine. The ghost creature took a tentative step towards her. Both Sam and Dean reacted immediately, bringing their guns up to firing range again. The ghost boy stepped back, afraid. When neither Winchester lowered their guns, he turned on his heel and ran into the study.

Natalie could barely breath. She didn't know what to do. Her rather memorable and recent encounter with the ghost children of Ludlow came to the forefront of her mind. Those kids had been wild and out for blood. But this ghost child seemed different. It seemed- almost scared of them. She took a cautious step towards the study, but Dean's arm instantly shot out, blocking her path.

"Dad, cover me. I need to go see what it wants."

"No way. You stay put."

"Dad, it called out to me. It wouldn't talk to Uncle Sam. It wants to talk to me. I'll be careful. Just stay close by, okay?" she whispered urgently. Dean bit the inside of his cheek, but dropped his arm, begrudgingly giving her permission. She looked over at Sam quickly. He nodded once, keeping his eyes trained on the doorway to the study. Natalie took a couple careful steps forward, Dean pressed right up against her back. As they walked towards the doorway, Natalie saw the little ghost boy standing against the back wall of the study. With a smile that betrayed the fear she felt, she spoke gently.

"Hi. What's your name?" she said, trying to speak in a cheery voice. The ghost boy tilted his head again, studying her carefully. "Are you looking for your Mama?" she said. The word acted like a stimulus in the child.

"Mama?" he said, more clearly this time. Natalie definitely heard the urgency behind his voice. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for something- anything- that would help her get this ghost child to say something that could be useful. Her eyes landed on a photograph close by. It wasn't one of the antiques- it was modern. It was of a few children and a taller woman on a picnic in what looked to be a park of some kind. She slowly reached out and took the photo in her hand, then extended it to the ghost child.

"Is this your Mama?" she asked, pointing to the lady in the picture. The boy stepped towards her to get a better look at the picture. Natalie felt Dean immediately tense up. "It's okay, Dad," she whispered over her shoulder. "It only wants to look." Dean's answer was a dissatisfied growl, but she didn't acknowledge it. As the ghost child approached her, she slowly lowered the picture to his height.

The closer he got, the more Natalie noticed his truly unnatural appearance. Most ghosts were transparent, but besides his otherworldly gray color, he seemed almost real; almost as if she could touch him. She noticed the room getting colder and colder as he approached her. She tried not to let that make her panic, forcing herself to keep the gentle smile on her face. The ghost boy looked carefully at the picture, tilting his head just like he had when he was examining Sam. Natalie felt the corners of her mouth twitching. It was- in a bizarre way- almost cute to watch him do that.

The ghost boy examined the photo for another long moment, and then took a step back. "Not Mama," he said, pointing to the photo. The tone of his voice had shifted. There was definite anger in it. He took another step back from Natalie and turned his palm upward. Suddenly, it seemed to glow with a red, intense light. The picture frame in Natalie's hands turned the temperature of the sun. With a shriek, she dropped it on the floor. The ghost boy narrowed his eyes and turned his palm towards the picture. It instantly burst into flames, causing Natalie to jump away from it. Dean and Sam both shielded their eyes as the photograph suddenly lit up like the pyre from Burning Man. But Natalie's eyes were focused on the ghost boy.

She watched as his small, dead face twisted with maliciousness. His eyes widened as the flame from the picture grew higher and higher, almost in sadistic delight. Suddenly, the fire vanished, and all that was left of the picture was a bit of twisted, smoking, red hot metal. The boy tilted his head again, examining the remains of the photograph. This time, it didn't look cute. This time, it looked sinister.

Still trying to recover from the shock of the sudden bonfire, Dean blinked his eyes rapidly a few times. He suddenly realized that when Natalie jumped away from the fire, she had jumped to his right, her back pressed against the adjoining wall. His eyes flicked rapid fire between the ghost and his child, watching for any signs of distress that meant he needed to take action.

The ghost boy turned his attention back towards Natalie then, tilting his head, examining her again. His eyes took in her long, black hair, her small frame, and the crowbar in her hand. He looked back up into her face.

"Mama?" he said, the longing and desperation clear in his voice. Natalie suddenly understood.

"The woman who was here before- who was in this room before, a couple days ago," she said carefully to the ghost, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "That wasn't Mama either, was it?"

The ghost boy shook his head violently, causing her heart to stop for a moment. "Not Mama," he said, in a terrifying growl. He stepped backwards- right over the spot where Wilers had all of her plastic evidence markers grouped earlier in the day. The ghost boy waved his hand once over the spot.

Suddenly, an image of a woman screaming, engulfed in flames and writhing on the floor, re-illuminated the study. Natalie gasped in horror as she watched the vision of what she could only assume was Ms. Lovett burn. The ghost looked down at the fiery apparition with glee.

"Not Mama," he said, looking at Natalie and nodding. She understood what he was trying to tell her. Ms. Lovett must had told him that she wasn't his mama- and he had taken his revenge upon her for it. Natalie swallowed hard and nodded back, showing that she understood. The ghost child waved his hand again, and the horrific vision disappeared. The boy's eyes flicked back up to Natalie.

"Mama?" it asked again in desperation. Despite the frigid air in the room, Natalie broke out in a cold sweat. She gripped the crowbar tightly in one hand, and reached behind her with the other hand, pressing it to the dark wood, getting a feel of how backed she was against the wall. The boy's eyes narrowed on the crowbar in her hand. He looked back up into her face. He reached one chalky gray palm out to her.

"Mama?" he asked more insistently this time. She could hear the anger in his voice again. Even if her own voice had been able to work at that moment, what would she have been able to say? She wasn't this boy's mama- and if she said that, he would light her up faster than a roman candle on the Fourth of July. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her eyes focused with panic on the palm stretched towards her. It began to glow red.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out in the small room. The ghost boy exploded in a cloud of gray, wispy smoke. Dean kept his gun pointed at the spot where the ghost had been a moment ago as he lunged towards his daughter. Grabbing her by the collar, he pulled her in front of him quickly. "SAM!" he roared as he shoved Natalie out of the room. She understood immediately, and took off running. Dean stayed hard on her heels, but looked behind him. Sam was bringing up the rear, keeping his eyes on their backs, covering them both as all three tried to make a hasty exit.

Suddenly, the ghost child appeared on their left. It stretched out its hands towards Natalie again. "Mama!" it yelled, but before it could make any move, both brothers locked in on it and shot it in the face. The ghost disappeared again with a wail.

"Go go go go go!" Dean screamed, causing Natalie's feet to fly faster. All three of them tore out the front door and across the street. Natalie ripped open the back door of the Impala and dove in, Sam right behind her, slamming the door behind them both. Plunging into the driver's seat, Dean gunned the engine and peeled off into the night. All three of them couldn't speak for a moment, just trying to catch their breath.