Whew! This story is fun to write. I was originally going to have Nat tag along, but that was just too many people for me to write. Anywho, thanks' for the reviews, and please enjoy the story!

"Clint," Natasha said in greeting as the older man walked into the diner. She sat on a bar stool at the counter, not looking up from her book as he walked up to her.

"Hey, Natasha," he responded. "D'you have the stuff I wanted."

She hummed in confirmation, setting her book aside – the title on the cover was printed in Arabic, and he wondered what she was reading – to pull a manila folder from her bag.

"Here," she said as she handed it to him. "We'll be able to get farther knowing what went on."

"We?" he asked, shooting her a look.

He knew she would do this. She was curious about whatever it was he was doing, especially since he knew that she'd probably hacked S.H.I.E.L.D. databases and found out that no one had sent him here. She had done the same thing a couple of years ago when he'd gone home to Laura, tracking him down at the farmhouse.

They'd been partners for almost every mission that S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent them on, ever since she'd joined up. Clint figured that she was a bit possessive of her new partner.

"Yes," she said simply. "And if you don't like it, too bad."

He frowned at her.

"Natasha," his voice was firm, allowing no room for further argument, "You are not staying. I'll let you know what's going on some other time, but for now, I want you to leave."

She glared at him, but complied.

Clint sighed. He really did owe her the truth.

The three young men waited on a couch outside of the room where the psychic did her 'thing' for about thirty minuets before she exited the room, escorting a man out of her house.

"All right, there," she was saying to him. "Don't you worry 'bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you."

The man thanked her with a smile on his face, and she shut the door behind him.

"Whew. Poor bastard." She said as soon as he was gone. "His woman is cold-bangin' the gardener."

"And you didn't tell him?" Clint asked her, raising an eyebrow.

She looked at him and snorted.

"People don't come here for the truth. They come for good news." She said by way of explanation.

The three of them stared at her, and she gave them an exasperated look.

"Well? Winchester boys, come on already, I ain't got all day." She walked into the other room, leaving the brothers to exchange looks of confusion before following her into the next room.

"Well," she said as they stood next to the chairs that were situated around a coffee table. "Lemme look at ya." She gave a short laugh. "Oh, you boys grew up handsome. And you were one goofy-lookin' kid, too." She pointed at Dean, who glared while Sam smirked at him. Clint, however, was more curious.

"You met us before?" He asked her, suspicion rising. He couldn't help it; he was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, after all.

She looked at him and nodded.

"Yes. Well, only once. You I saw from the window of a motel room. You were a pissy twelve-year-old."

Clint flushed red as his siblings laughed at him.

"Sam," Missouri said as she took his hand. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry about your girlfriend. And your father, he's missin'?"

The brothers looked at her in shock.

"How'd you know all that?" Sam asked cautiously.

She gave him a patient smile, and her voice was soft as she spoke.

"Well, you were just thinkin' it just now."

Sam raised his eyebrows, surprised and a bit impressed.

"Well," Dean said. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

Missouri fixed him with an apologetic stare.

"I don't know," she said simply.

"Don't know?" Dean said, his temper rising. Clint put a hand on his arm, but his younger brother shrugged it off. "Well, you're supposed to be a psychic, right?"

Missouri gave him a cold look.

"Boy, you see me sawin' some bony tramp in half? You think I'm a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can't just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please."

Sam smirked at Dean before sitting down next to him, and Clint took the chair adjacent to the sofa.

"Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I'm 'a whack you with a spoon!" Missouri snapped, startling Dean.

"I didn't do anything!" he protested, and she shot him a glare.

"But you were thinkin' about it." She said.

Clint chuckled at his brother's expense, and Sam grinned. He was really enjoying watching the psychic woman deal with his older brother.

"Shuddup, moron," Dean muttered.

"Okay," Sam said, trying to get everyone back on topic. "So, our dad, when did you first meet him?"

Missouri took a breath, looking towards the youngest brother.

"He came for a reading. A few days after the fire." She said. "I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say," she paused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. "I drew back the curtains for him."

Clint pointed a finger at her.

"You were the one that made him all nutty for a while?" he complained.

She glared at him.

"You hush up, or you and your pretty wife won't be having any more babies." She warned him. "I simply told him the truth. Not my fault what he did with it."

"Ahem," Dean drew attention to himself. "What about the fire? Do you know what killed our mom?"

She frowned.

"A little." She confessed. "Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin' I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing."

"And, what did you feel?" Clint asked her quietly.

"I…" she shook her head, looking fairly distressed.

"What was it?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know." She said, her voice soft. "Oh, but it was evil."

"So," Missouri asked as the group walked outside. "You think somethin' is back in that house?"

Sam nodded.

"Definitely." He replied.

She looked worried.

"I don't understand." She said, confusion written on her face.

"What don't you understand?" said Clint.

"I haven't been back inside, but I've been keepin' an eye on the place, and it's been quiet." She explained. "No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin' up now?"

Sam pursed his lips together.

"I don't know." He said honestly. "But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house al happening at one, it just feels like something's starting."

"That's a comforting thought." Dean said grimly.

"C'mon," Clint said. "Let's head over to the house and save that poor woman and her kids."

"Guys," Jenny said as she opened the door with her son in her arms. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Jenny. This is our friend Missouri." Sam greeted her.

"If it's not too much trouble," Dean added, "we were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time's sake."

Jenny looked at them uncertainly, and Dean stepped in.

"Listen, Jenny, it's important – owe!" Missouri interrupted him with a smack to the back of the head.

"Give this poor girl a break, can't you see she's upset?" She turned to Jenny with a sympathetic look on her face. "Forgive this boy, he means well, but he's not the sharpest tool in the shed. But hear me out."

Dean just looked at the psychic woman with a stunned expression, and Clint snickered.

Jenny glanced at the brothers briefly before returning her gaze to Missouri.

"About what?" she asked.

"About this house," Missouri said calmly.

Jenny looked like she was seconds from slamming the front door in all of their faces.

"What are you talking about?"

"I think you know what I'm talking about," the psychic said. "You think there's something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?"

"Who are you?" Jenny asked, her voice quiet.

"We're people who can help, who can stop this thing. But your'e gonna have to trust us, just a little."

Jenny looked unsure, but moved backwards to let the four of them inside, and she led them to her daughter's bedroom before returning downstairs.

Missouri looked around the room.

"If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it." She said as she moved around.

Sam's eyes followed her, and he frowned.

"Why?" he asked.

"This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened."

Sam glanced at the ceiling, an uncomfortable look on his face. Clint couldn't help but to follow his younger brother's gaze.

"That an EMF?" Missouri asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen around the room.

"Yeah," Dean said proudly, glancing down at his homemade device. Clint wondered why it looked like a Walkman.

Missouri snorted at him.

"Amateur."

Dean glared at the woman before nudging his brothers in the ribs to show them the frantic beeping coming from the EMF.

"Does this thing actually work, or is it just picking up stupid waves from you?" Clint asked Dean innocently, receiving a punch to the arm.

"I don't know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved," Missouri said, interrupting their sibling quarrel. "But this ain't the thing that took your mom."

Clint let out a breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Are you sure?" He asked her, and she nodded at him.

"How do you know?" Sam asked curiously.

"It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It's somethin' different." She replied, casting one last glance around the room that had once been Sam's.

"What is it?" said Dean.

Missouri walked over to the closet.

"Not it," she said as she opened it. "Them. There's more than one spirit in this place." She poked her head into the closet before removing it.

"Why are there two?" Clint asked her. "And what are they doing here?"

She turned to face him, a thoughtful look on her face.

"They're here because of what happened to your family," she informed him. "You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house." She shook her head sadly. "That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected."

"I don't understand." Said Sam, frowning again.

She looked at him.

"This place is a magnet for paranormal energy." She explained. "It's attracted a poltergeist, a nasty one. And it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead."

She looked genuinely upset as she spoke.

"You said there was more than one spirit." Stated Sam.

She nodded.

"There is. I just can't quite make out the second one." She replied.

Dean's face was set.

"Well," he said. "One thing's for damn sure. Nobody's dying in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?"

Word Count: 1,822 without A/N