Manning, Colorado was the current destination that my family had settled in for the time being. The main focus still being on hunting down the demon that killed Mom and Sam's girlfriend. All over the walls, Dad had pinned up all the details and information that he had acquired. From newspapers, to weather reports regarding omens.
I scanned over the details, whilst rubbing my arm, healing nicely from the vampire bite. The mounted head of a stag was almost putting me off my concentration.
"So this is it. This is everything I know," began Dad, as he sat at the table with Sam's laptop in front of him, the Colt sitting beside it. "Look, our whole lives we've been searching for this demon, right? Not a trace, just nothing. Until about a year ago. For the first time, I picked up a trail. The demon must have come out of hiding or hibernation."
I twirled my amulet between my fingers, deep in thought. Guess that explains why Dad took off suddenly.
"So, what's this trail you found?" questioned Dean.
I turned around, very keen on hearing my father's answer. I folded my arms, my hands nearly hidden due to the oversized plaid shirt I was wearing.
"Starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us" continued Dad.
Sam frowned.
"Families with infants?" asked Sam, curiously, to which Dad nodded in reply.
"The night of the kid's sixth month birthday" added Dad.
It was my turn to frown. Hang on, none of this made sense. If the demon is after Sam, then clearly it made a total goof of the night that it visited us, fourteen years ago. Sam was eight years old that night, not six months. I was the infant in the crib. Dad had noted my puzzled expression, alongside Sam. Dad gazed at my brothers.
"Dean, you were maybe too little to remember, but do you recall the night of November 2nd 1983?" asked Dad.
Dean shrugged and shook his head. Dad's words furthered our growing curiosity.
"I remember your mother running into our room with Sam, only six months old, hysterical. At first I was worried that something was wrong with Sam, and that Mary must of hurt herself because she was ranting something chronic about a stranger in the nursery," said Dad, his voice becoming sad with recalling a memory regarding my Mom. "Then this white light appeared, and that's all I can remember. It just seems odd, that the demon came to our home twice within the span of eight years. It doesn't match the details that I've uncovered. What does it want with us? Why did it come a second time?"
Sam was troubled by Dad's words. To be frank, all of us were deeply concerned about the situation.
"This demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came after me? So Mom's death, and Jessica's death, it's all because of me?" said Sam.
"We don't know that for sure, Sam" butted in Dean.
"Oh, really? I'd say we're sure" insisted Sam.
I continued to twirl my amulet with my fingers, my expression remained a troubled frown. So, according to Dad, the demon had visited twice. It visited Sam, when he was a baby, back in 1983, and then once again in 1991, precisely eight years later. However, in 1991, I was inhabiting the nursery once occupied with Sam. Was the demon still searching for Sam at that time? Had it found a new target? Maybe it had found the wrong room? Everything was running through my overactive mind, at over a million miles an hour. What did the demon want? Why is it targeting my brother?
"For the last time, what happened is not your fault" said Dean, using his authoritarian tone with Sam.
However, Sam didn't seem convinced.
"Yeah, your damn right it's not my fault, but it's my problem" remarked Sam, who was getting more frustrated with himself.
"No, it's not, it's our problem" responded Dean.
At that moment, Dad found his voice again.
"Okay, that's enough" he chided.
Thank God, because I couldn't deal with hearing my brothers argue at the moment. My headache lingered above my left eyebrow, like a damn power drill. I stuffed my trembling left hand into my jean pocket. Took me a while to master, and I don't know how, but it's my own way to repress the visions. Then again, I'm fully aware that it'll come back to bite me in the ass, in the form of a much more violent vision induced seizure. I just want them to stop. I can't keep doing this. It hurts too much.
"So, why is it doing it? What does it want?" questioned Sam.
Dad pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"Look, I wish I had more answers. I do. I've always been one step behind it," replied Dad. "And, I've never gotten there in time to save…."
He then paused, as his voice caught in his throat, the night of November 2nd, 1991 replaying in his mind from what I was guessing. Dad gazed at me briefly, before looking away again.
"How do we find it before it hits again?" asked Dean.
Dad thought for a moment.
"Well, there are signs. It took me a while to see the pattern but in the days before these fires, signs crop up in an area. Cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms. And then I went back and checked, and….." started Dad.
Dean frowned, his eyes expressing horror. With an equally matched expression, I slowly sat down in the chair, as my legs began to feel like jelly.
"These things happened in Lawrence" muttered my eldest brother.
Dad nodded, sadly.
"A week before your mother died," he said, before returning his gaze to Sam. "And in Palo Alto, before Jessica. And these signs, they're starting again."
I cocked my head to the side.
"Where?" I asked.
Dad looked exhausted, and I can't really blame him. With all that is happening in recent times, he has being bustin' his ass trying to rustle up all key elements in tracking this thing down. It was game over for this bastard, and then Dad would finally avenge Mom.
"Salvation, Iowa" he replied.
No little than an hour later, we hit the road. Some time passed, as we eventually reached Salvation. I joined my Dad in his truck, wanting to keep him company.
"I was thinking about something," I began, as I twirled my amulet between my fingers. "When I'm older, I wanna get a tattoo. Something cool, like a magic sigil; the Ghost Busters logo or a disapproving Squidward with his arms folded."
Dad looked at me, with a bemused expression, his right eyebrow slightly raised. I just wanna meet somebody, one day, that will be a kindred spirit with me. A fellow nerd if you will. Nerds don't give a shit, not like everybody else I've been confronted with at school.
"Who the hell is Squidward? Remind me?" asked Dad, with a smirk on his face.
He then answered his ringing cell phone, whilst I continued my spiel.
"Doi, Spongebob's neighbour," I replied, with a chuckle. "Remember, I used to be SpongeBob, because I used to be Miss Happy Go Lucky Optimism. Dean was Patrick, because he acts like a goof most times. And Sam was Squidward, because he used to moan whenever Dean and I would have our shenanigans."
The smile on our faces had vanished at this point, as Dad was listening down the other end of his cell phone. I quickly turned off the radio, as Dad pulled over.
"Dad? What is it? What's wrong? Is everything alright?" I asked, worried about my father.
My brothers were also troubled by Dad's expression, as we pilled out of our designated vehicles.
"Goddamn it!" cursed Dad, as he slammed his door shut.
I jumped slightly. Well, I could definitely tell something bad had happened.
"What is it?" questioned Dean, looking to me briefly for answers, to which I could only shrug my shoulders.
Dad slammed a fist into the side of his truck, making me jump once again.
"I just got a call from Caleb…" started Dad.
"Is he okay?" asked Dean.
Dad sighed heavily, his eyes full of anger and also sorrow.
"He's fine," he replied, before sighing once again. "Jim Murphy's dead."
I gasped aloud, a put a hand to my mouth.
"Pastor Jim?" I questioned, my hand instantly gripping onto my silver amulet. "How?"
Another close friend of the family. If my brothers and I weren't staying with Bobby, then it was with the Pastor. A man of the Church he may have been, but he was also a knowledgeable hunter. A nice man, who was always fond of my imaginative stories when I was a little girl. He gave me an illustrated children's edition of the Bible when I was six. When I was little, used to ask him all sorts of questions about the Bible and just religion in general. Pastor Jim would always have an answer. Don't know why, but my favourite story from the Bible, was in the Old Testament, in the Genesis chapter, regarding Abraham and Isaac. Not sure why, because it's pretty fucked up. Human sacrifice doesn't sit well in my books.
"Throat was slashed. He bled out. Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place" answered Dad.
My brothers shared the same expression on there faces, the one matching my own. Disbelief.
"A demon? The demon?" quizzed Dean.
Dad could only shrug his shoulders.
"I don't know," he added, the stress in his voice very obvious. "Could be he just got careless, and slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close."
Sam wrapped an arm tightly around my shoulder, as I stood there shivering. However, Sam was shaking worse than I was. His breathing was heavy, which wasn't a good sign.
"What do you wanna do?" queried Dean.
Dad rubbed his face with his hand, still in shock over the news of Pastor Jim's murder.
"Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health centre in the county. We split up, we cover more ground. I want records. I want lists of every infant that's gonna be six months old in the next week."
Sam took several deep breathes before finding his voice. I thought he was gonna topple over and pass out, judging by his body language.
"That could be dozens of kids. How the hell are we gonna know which one's the right one?" he questioned.
Dad was becoming more stressed.
"We'll check them all, that's how. You got any better ideas?" he demanded.
Sam's head went down. I squeezed his hand in an act of support and comfort. It would be my mission of the day, to look after my brother, as I suspected he was struggling mentally. Dad turned his back on us, as he leaned against the truck.
"It's Jim. Y'know I can't..," he began, as his voice then caught in his throat. He turned around to face us again. "This ends now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes."
It was my cue to move, as Dad climbed back into the truck.
"Dad, I'm gonna head with them," I said. "I'll be much more helpful with Sam, since I can't pull off a medical officer look."
Dad sighed, as he passed my backpack to me from the truck. Later, I was sitting in the Salvation medical centre, pretending to be reading a medical journal, whilst I was secretly helping Sam read through the birth records.
Afterwards, Sam and I headed outside when we had completed the task of searching through birth certificates. I then recognised a familiar look on his face. He almost dropped Dad's journal from his hands.
"Sam?" I asked, as I touched his arm.
I instantly withdrew my hand, as it felt like a static shock going through me. Sam blinked several times, trying to regain his focus, before bringing a hand to his forehead. Yup, I was right, his spidey senses were tingling again. Seconds later, he pulled himself out of his vision.
"You alright?" I asked, concerned. My tone then became hushed. "What did you see?"
Sam gazed around.
"I heard a train. A train line must be running near her home, or something along that route, at least I think," he rambled, before fumbling around with a local map. When he found what he was looking for, Sam then tugged my arm. "C'mon, we gotta go check it out."
Sam was literally pulling me along, my short skinny legs trying to keep up with him.
"Sam? Sam, slow down! Jesus, it's like I'm tryin' to keep in pace with a freakin' giraffe. Short legs remember," I remarked. "Sam, I mean it, slow down and tell me what's going on."
Sam grounded to a halt, his eyes focused on a particular white panelled house across the street. I lightly brushed the shoulders of my old hooded jacket, since it was drizzling with rain. A woman holding a grey umbrella with one hand, whilst pushing along stroller with her remaining free hand, wandered along the side walk, leading to the house. She waved as a passing car beeped its horn at her.
"It's her" muttered Sam, under his breath.
I frowned in confusion and curiosity, before Sam dragged me across the road, to which I nearly tripped over the kerb.
"Hi. Here, let me help you hold that. You look like you don't need that anymore," said Sam, offering to take the woman's bag and umbrella. He then took notice of the infant in the stroller. "She's gorgeous. Is she yours?"
I was lingering back, not wanting to get too close, as it would seems very creepy. To be honest, if I was that woman and a stranger ran up to me like Sam has just done, I would be backing away. Still, Sam has his own way of doing things.
"I'm sorry, I'm rude. I'm Sam, and this is my kid sister, Chris," began Sam, signalling over to me. "We just moved in up the block."
Well, so much for not getting involved in the conversation. With a small smile, I wandered over to the woman and my brother. I then knelt down to the stroller, and gently shook the baby's tiny hand, when she offered it to me. I don't know how I feel about babies, they always look at me weird for some reason. Maybe it's the whole Children of the Damned stare that babies do, that freaks me out.
"Oh, hey! I'm Monica," introduced the woman. She indicated to the baby. "And, this is Rosie. So, welcome to the neighbourhood."
Sam smiled at the baby, who was quiet content in her stroller.
"She's such a good baby" remarked Sam.
"I know, she never cries. She just stares at everybody. Sometimes she looks at you, and I swear it's like she's reading your mind" responded Monica.
I shuddered with the cold, as I rubbed my healing arm. Maybe if I was around babies or little kids more often growing up, I would be more open to them, but years of watching horror movies has dampened my views. I mean, come on, it's a total horror movie cliché to have a creepy baby or child. Come to think about it, I would be that kid. Uh, never mind, I'm rambling, again.
"What about you? Have you lived here long?" asked Sam.
I was still keeping quiet, since the baby continued to stare at me with her big eyes.
"My husband and I, we bought our place just before Rosie was born" replied Monica.
"How old is Rosie?" questioned Sam.
"She's six months old today," answered Monica, with a very proud smile on her face. "She's big, right? Growing like a weed."
Judging by the look in Sam's worried eyes, this woman was a clear connection to the vision he was enduring. He was trying to speak, but he was struggling with a growing lump in his throat. Monica seemed puzzled.
"Just….Just take care of yourself, okay?" said Sam.
Moments later, as we were once again, at the other side of the street, Sam brought his hands to his forehead once again. Monica was busy greeting her husband, who had just pulled up in his car.
"Take it easy, man," I assured, putting a hand on my brother's arm, only to withdraw it again, due to some weird shock. "It'll pass, that's what you always tell me, right?"
Suddenly, Sam returned from his vision, with tears in his eyes. He repeatedly shook his head, as we returned to the motel.
"I can't let that happen," he repeated. "Not again. It's not going to happen."
Safe to say, Dean and Dad was as equally concerned about Sam, as I was. As Sam rubbed his forehead, we watched him carefully. I sat with my back against the headboard of one of the motel room beds, twirling my amulet between my fingers. Things were becoming more frightening. I muttered under my breath, to which my family didn't notice, as I played with my amulet.
At this point, I forgot that Dad was unaware of Sam's recent visions, and I imagine that he saw that as a thing of his young teenage past. Sam went through a small phase, around my age, when he could see things before they happened. It was brief, but Dad was very keen on monitoring it, in case it cropped up once again. I think Dad was annoyed at Dean, for not telling him. He would erupt if he knew about mine.
"I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling" said Sam.
Dad was almost burying his head in his hands. I glared at Dean, begging him not to even think about bringing my vision up. Sam was the focus at this moment in time, not me.
"You think it will happen to this woman because…?" asked Dad, his tone weary.
"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them" answered Sam.
Dean then stood up.
"Yeah, they started out as nightmares," he said, shooting me a knowing glance. "Just like when he was a kid. Then, they started happening while he was awake."
Sam sighed very heavily, as he massaged his brow.
"It's like the closer I get to anything involving the demon, the stronger the visions get" added Sam.
I would later regret my choice of words, as it wasn't the time to crack a joke.
"Like Harry Potter and Voldemort" I chirped up, earning a glower from Dean.
Yeah, I'm just gonna shut up, and zip it until necessary. Dad rapped me on the lower leg with his hand, for my wise crack. He looked mega pissed.
"All right, when were you gonna tell me about this?" he demanded.
"We didn't know what it meant" replied Dean.
"Something like this starts happening to your brother, again, you pick up the phone and you call me" responded Dad.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, awaiting the fall out.
"Call you?" said Dean. "Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence. Alright. Sam called you when I was dying. I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery."
Still waiting for Dad to explode, but I was surprised by his reaction.
"You're right," said Dad. "Although I'm not real crazy about that tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."
Don't mention mine. Please, don't mention mine.
"Look, whether visions or no visions, the fact is we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through" remarked Sam.
"No one is, ever again" replied Dad.
Suddenly, Sam's cell phone rang, to which he answered. It was Meg.
Moments later, Dad was speaking to her, on her request. Tensions where high, as it turned out that Meg was Pastor Jim's killer, and was now holding Caleb, one of Dad's contacts, hostage. From the look on Dad's face, it was clear that Meg was letting Caleb bleed out, and forcing my father to listen. Dad paced back and forth, delivering the odd threat to Meg. His eyes fell upon me. My guessing, Meg has found out about the Colt.
"I'll bring you the Colt" he muttered, his voice full of hate.
My hands began to tremble, to which I made a quick dive for the bathroom. Dad was took concerned with current events to notice, thank God. I could hear conversation behind the bathroom door, but the pain in my head was so painful, I failed to pick up on what was being said. I could almost earn the bones in my hands creak and crackle, as they twitched and curled into fists. It'll pass. Don't let it go, or I'm gonna make an unnecessary scene.
The very same vision rushed through my brain, blaring in my ears, and blinding my eyes. A monotone beeping noise. A loud beeping noise, following by two white lights. It only lasted several seconds, but it was still rough. I reappeared from the bathroom, only to be confronted with the sight of my Dad, with tears in his eyes.
It was a mystery to me, as we drove to the outskirts of town. Dad started to load his truck with weapons. They were keeping something from me. I then figured it out, as soon as Dean handed Dad a replica of the Colt. My eyes widened.
"You're going alone?" I said. "Dad, you can't, it's a trap. It's pretty damn obvious, that's why Meg wants you to come alone."
Dad placed his hands on my shoulders.
"I can handle her, baby," he said. "I got a whole arsenal loaded. Holy water, Mandaic amulets…"
Knowing that I was getting upset, Dean pulled me away slightly.
"Seriously Dad, if this thing goes south, just get the hell out. You're no good to us dead" said Dean.
Dad nodded, and produced the real Colt from his jacket.
"All right, they made the bullets special for this Colt," he stated. "There's only four bullets left, and without them, this gun is useless. You make every shot count."
We nodded. My hands then began shivering once again, to which I ignored.
"I've been waiting a hell of a long time for this fight," said Dad. "Now it's here, and I'm not gonna be in it. It's up to you three now. It's your fight. You finish this. You finish what I started. You understand?"
He then handed Dean the real Colt. I rushed towards Dad, nearly tackling him into the ground.
"Come back to us, promise," I begged, fighting the tears developing in my eyes. "Come back to us. Promise."
Dad stroked the top of my head, as he hugged me fiercely. He didn't answer me, not wanting to give me false hope.
"I'll see you boys later," said Dad, breaking away from me. "Look after Chrissie."
With that, he was gone. I brought my shaking hands to my face, as I started to cry. I want my Dad alive at the end of this fight.
Last review I received was from a troll. Stating this whole story is disgusting, due to the risky move I made with the whole Chris loosing her virginity at 14. Still, I know there are readers who still love this saga, and let's get real, Dean would've lost it at that age too. It was a character building move, I decided to make about Chris.
There is constructive critisims, and then there is trolls, hiding under a guest entry. If you have something to say, then be nice about it. I would never put down another writer.
Anyway, enjoy this chapter. A shout out to friend and contributor to this saga, bpt1905.
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Please review!