"The police did a shit job here, don't you think? No crime tape, nothing," Dean said, peering around the inside of the Lynn house. He and Sam had easily broken in; in their grief the family had forgotten to lock the back door.
"Definitely," Sam agreed. He began making his way up the stairs. Dean followed closely behind, watching for EMF. By the time they'd reached the third landing, the two brothers were almost positive that Hannah and Tyler Lynn's "suicides" had been caused by a ghost. "Which room was it?"
"This one," Dean said, opening the door to the master bedroom. He noticed immediately the dried blood stains on the floor. "Normal hangings don't cause this much blood. Something else was here," Dean bent down and ran his fingers over the bloodstains. They were irregular and large, as if Tyler had put up a fight before he died.
"Look at this, Dean. Tessa was right when she said there were bloodstains on the walls. They're faint, but there's no mistaking it," Sam gestured to the bedroom walls. He began inspecting it again with a flashlight. Dean grunted in response and began checking out the rafters. There were smears of blood here, too. Then, Dean saw it. A bloody hand print, hidden in the shadows. It was much to small to be the handprint of a twenty-four year old, six foot tall man.
"I've got something over here, Sammy," Dean called. Sam immediately joined him.
"It looks like a woman's print. See the size? No guy has hands that little."
"Do you think it could be Tessa? She was the one who found him, she could have tried to get him down," Dean said. He looked over at Sam, who was pondering this.
"No. Tessa said she ran out and called the police. There's no way she did this," Sam said finally. He touched the hand print lightly, and his fingers came away red.
"Whatever did this left this print as a sign. They're not done yet," Dean murmured.
Dean and Sam were so involved in their new discussion that they didn't hear the front door close. Tessa set her bag down on the counter and went to the couch. She'd just made herself comfortable when she heard slight murmurings from upstairs. Tessa froze. It sounded like voices. She padded into the kitchen and grabbed the first weapon she saw: a butter knife. Tessa crept up the stairs slowly until she reached the third landing. The voices were definitely coming from her parents room.
She steeled herself, gripping the butter knife tightly, and threw herself through the door. Tessa barely had time to process the two people kneeling on the floor before one stood. He opened his mouth to speak, but just at that moment Tessa let her knife fly. It soared through the air and embedded itself in the wall, mere inches from the shorter man's head.
"What the hell? Why are you in my house? Get the hell out!" Tessa screamed. She'd thrown her only weapon -and missed- so now she was defenseless against the two men standing in her home. For all she knew they'd killed Tyler and were coming to clean up after themselves. Then, Tessa recognized the two. Michael Schon and Joseph Perry, supposed friends of her brothers. But why were they here? Checking the scene out for themselves?
"Uh, Tessa, we were just-" Sam began, but seeing the seething look on Tessa's face faltered. She was small and looked to be barely an adult, but judging from her aim, she could be deadly.
"I asked why you were here. And no bullshit this time, I know you weren't any of Tyler's friends. If you don't tell me, I swear to God I'll call the police," Tessa said flatly. She began inching towards the door, hoping to beat the two downstairs to her phone. Dean immediately noticed what she was doing. He raised his hands in the air, a smirk on his face.
"Alright, sweetheart. But first- a butter knife?" Tessa made a noise of discontent, seemingly even more agitated than before.
"Tell me, now," she said again, not moving from her place in the doorway. Sam opened his mouth to speak, but one look from Dean silenced him.
"I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my little brother Sam. You're right, we weren't friends of your brother's. We're... Well, detectives, sort of. We're here to investigate the deaths of your mother and brother," Dean searched Tessa's face, but it was completely blank and controlled.
Tessa couldn't believe what she was hearing. Either they were telling the truth, or they were crazy, sociopath liars. She was hoping for the former. Something tugged at her mind, though. Dean had seemed so... Mournful at the funeral, saying that her brother would be missed. Tessa was filled with a white-hot rage. "How dare you! How dare you come to my brother's funeral and feed bullshit to me! Is this some game to you? I want you to leave, now."
Dean looked stunned. After a moment, he regained his composure. "I'm sorry, Tessa. Sammy and I, we lost our mom, too. I was four."
"I was four, too. She... Tyler found her, you know. He was only seven. I hardly remember anything from that night. Tyler wouldn't let me see anything. He hugged me on the couch until dad got home," Tessa had calmed down enormously. She seemed to be lost in her own world. At some point, she had sunk onto the floor, pulling her knees to her chest.
"How old are you?" Dean asked, perking up considerably. Sam elbowed him hard in the ribs.
"I'm twenty-one. Why?" Tessa peered up at Dean. Her eyes were red and swollen, with prominent dark circles underneath them.
"Oh... We thought you were younger, that's all," Dean replied finally.
"Everyone says that. I've always been small for my age. When I was in high school, this one boy that I liked asked me if I'd skipped a few grades, because I looked like I belonged in middle school," Tessa laughed shakily, rubbing at her swollen eyes. "Anyway, you still haven't told me why you suspect anything. I want to help, if I can."
Sam nodded to Dean, who cleared his throat and began telling Tessa the story of their past.