A/N: Thanks again for all the great reviews. Now to the action of the story and a few answers.
Watching Sam's retreating form, Dean breathed a sigh of relief. All the staring and sighing made it hard to focus. It was driving him crazy. He was surprised the kid had lasted that long. Another hour later, he still didn't have a clue why the car wouldn't start. He'd checked every wire, hose, and connection in the car. Nothing was frayed, leaking, or broken. The car should be running perfectly. It simply refused to start. It made no sense at all.
"Come on, baby. Don't do this to me." Reaching in to grab the last of his tools, his instincts sensed the trouble before he heard it. He was able to snatch his hands back seconds before the hood slammed shut.
"What the hell is up with my car!?" Maybe Sam was right. Have some dinner and figure this out later.
Loading the last of his tools into the toolboxes and stowing them in the trunk, Dean decided to try to start the car one more time. It couldn't hurt to hope the last of his tinkering solved the problem. The look of shock on his face when it did start would've been comical had anyone been there to see it. As it was, the look was quickly replaced with relief. A lingering worry in the back of his mind reminded him he still didn't know why the car stopped, much less why it was running again. That could be Sam's paranoia rubbing off on him. We'll figure it out later. For now, my baby's running fine. He pulled out his cell phone, dialing his brother's number.
"Hey, Sasquatch. You ready for that dinner now?"
"Did you get the car running? What was wrong?"
"Don't know exactly. Something must have come loose."
"Weird. You don't think it'll happen again?"
"I'm not sure of that either. For now let's not worry. We can cross that bridge when we come to it. I'll be right there." By the time he got back to the motel, Sam was waiting. "Find what you were looking for?" Dean was still occasionally freaked out by Sam's abilities. But he trusted his brother's instincts as much as his own, maybe even more. Not that he'd tell Sam that.
"I think so. I want to know what you think first."
"Cool, let's talk about this over dinner. I'm starved." Managing to avoid the dinner rush, it took no time to be seated and order. "Ok, what have you got?"
"I hacked into the local paper's files, the stuff they didn't publish. I did a search for files on Suzanne, what kind of a person she was. All of her friends, her family, and basically anyone who'd met her said she was sweet. She was kind, caring, and generous. No one had a negative thing to say about her. Except her choice of boyfriend."
"So what did they say about him?" Dean had a pretty good idea, had met a few girls recovering from that type of loser. He wasn't prepared, however, for how many buckets of crazy this guy was.
"The best friend says she was terrified for Suzanne's safety. She says that Lonnie was into cult stuff. When the cops arrested him, they did find lots of ritual items and books on dark magic at their home. They also found several animals buried in the back yard with obvious signs of ritual sacrifice."
"So you think he did something to Suzanne before killing her?"
"Possibly. Witnesses of the crash said he was screaming after the crash that she'd never leave. Not even in death. Dean, I think he cursed her, forcing her to relive her death. That she had no control over what was happening to her. He abused her even in death. I guess we freed her from the curse by burning her bones."
The sound of relief in Sam's voice tempered Dean's irritation with what happened with his car. It did feel good to know they'd set that poor girl free from her nightmare once and for all. As far as he was concerned, there should be a special place in hell set aside for sick bastards like Lonnie Stiger.
"Does this mean we can leave town knowing the job is done?" He really hoped this was what Sam's feeling was about. He was more than ready to leave Glen Rose, and really the whole state of Texas. Any more talk was put on hold as their dinner arrived.
After their quiet dinner, Dean opted to skip the bar scene. He'd hustled enough pool while they waited to see the results of the hunt. He needed the day to be over and to leave town. Dropping Sam at the room, he wanted to make a beer run. That and a few snacks while they found a new job were in order. Ten minutes later, he exited the store with beer, chips, beef jerky, something healthy for Sam, and peanut M&Ms. No snack run was complete for Dean without his peanut M&Ms.
Putting the bags in the back seat, he'd barely touched the handle of the front door when it flew open, smacking him squarely in the head. Assuming it caught in a strong breeze, he approached the door more cautiously, holding it in a firm grip before easing into the driver's seat. Dean could tell the hit broke the skin, feeling the trickle of blood down his forehead and nose. Turning to check how bad it was in the rear view mirror, he realized the mirrors were moved again.
"Damn it! I swear if I find country music on my radio..." Sure enough, when he started the car, the radio was blaring a Garth Brooks song. How the hell am I going to explain this cut without looking like an idiot? Sam will never let me live this one down.
No good excuses coming to him on the drive back, he figured he's tell the truth and deal with the jokes. He hoped he could sneak in without Sam noticing. Or maybe he'd cut Dean some slack after the day they'd had. While getting out of the car, another breeze caught the door. This time it slammed the door on his calf.
"Son of a bitch!"
Grabbing the snacks, he exited the car as quickly as possible without causing himself further damage. He opened the door to the room, dropped the bags on the nearby table, and hoped to make it to the bathroom without Sam noticing the blood. No such luck this time.
"Dean, are you ok? What the hell happened to you?"
With a resigned sigh Dean said, "I'll tell you if you promise not to give me crap about it." He saw Sam's expression change from concern to curiosity and hoped telling the truth wasn't a bad idea. "A strong breeze caught the door of the car, caused it to open faster than I expected." No jokes followed his embarrassing admission. Not even a smirk. Thanks, little brother.
"Go get a towel and I'll help clean it up." Noting the concern still in his brother's voice, he went to get the towel and get it over with. He didn't get far before Sam's words stopped him again.
"You're limping too? Are you sure you're ok?" The tone of his voice, Dean noticed, skipped concerned and went straight to worried.
Crap, I forgot about that. "I'm fine. The door closed on it. That's all. My ego is more bruised than my leg right now."
"That's all? I'll go get the first aid kit. Is it still in the trunk?"
"No!" Reigning in the sound of panic in his voice, he continued, "Let me get it." He didn't want to admit it to Sam, but he didn't want him near the car with all the accidents happening around it. Though by the look on his face, Dean wasn't fooling him. "Put the beer in the fridge. I'll be right back."
Approaching the Impala with more caution than was probably necessary, he opened the trunk and leaned in to get the first aid kit that coincidentally was now at the back of the trunk. The moment his fingers gripped the kit, the trunk slammed shut, hitting the back of his head and pinning him, the latch mere inches from impaling his side. He managed to pull himself free, first aid kit and all, and call for Sam before his world went black.
Sam had been more than happy to let Dean drop him off at the room before going to buy beer. He'd been irritable since the Impala started having problems. The fact that he couldn't find anything wrong frustrated him to no end. Enough to skip the bar. A frustrated Dean equaled a cranky Dean and usually a headache for Sam. So a beer run sounded like the best way to pull him out of his bad mood.
While his brother was out, Sam wanted to do some more research on this town. All of their problems seemed to happen right after the accident. He wanted to know if anyone else had similar experiences. Or if helping Suzanne pass on created more problems. Maybe it would help him to get rid of the feeling that still wouldn't go away.
By the time the car pulled up outside, the rumble of the old muscle car unmistakable, he had a couple of things he wanted to discuss. Dean entered the room and dropped the bags on the table, head bowed. Clearly he was trying to hide something, but what? It was the last thing Sam expected. How do you go to the store and come back bleeding?
"Dean, are you ok? What the hell happened to you?" From what he could tell, his brother wasn't in pain. He almost looked embarrassed.
"I'll tell you if you promise not to give me crap about it." Now Sam was a bit confused and curious why his brother thought he'd give him a hard time. The wound didn't look serious, but it was still a wound. And he knew for a fact that even a small head wound could hurt like hell.
"A strong breeze caught the door of the car, caused it to open faster than I expected." He noticed a small look of relief from Dean when he realized there would be no jokes.
"Go get a towel and I'll help clean it up." He noticed a slight limp when Dean started walking to the bathroom. Now he was starting to really worry. "You're limping too? Are you sure you're ok?"
"I'm fine. The door closed on it. That's all. My ego is more bruised than my leg right now."
"That's all? I'll go get the first aid kit. Is it still in the trunk?" He hoped it was nothing more than a bruise.
"No! Let me get it." The momentary look of fear in Dean's eyes had Sam worried.
"Put the beer in the fridge. I'll be right back."
His hesitant steps back outside turned Sam's worry to fear. If he hadn't been alert for signs of trouble, he would've missed Dean's grunt of pain and shout. "Sam!"
What he saw made his heart skip a beat. Dean lay unmoving, face down on the pavement just behind his car. Rushing to his side, Sam could already see the fresh wound on the back of his head, bleeding much worse than the one on his forehead. He didn't get this from hitting the cement. How--
Suddenly the moment that afternoon when the trunk nearly slammed on his hands flashed in his mind. He knew what happened, but not why. With a gentle nudge, he tried to get his brother to come around.
"Dean? Hey, you with me man?" His answer, a low moan and an unfocused look.
"Sam, how did I end up on the ground? Oh, wait. I remember. Damn that hurt."
"Let me help you up." Putting a steadying hand on his back, Dean flinched at the touch. "Your back is hurt too? Let me look at it." The fact that Dean didn't argue told Sam how much he was hurting. Pulling up his shirts, he saw a red welt running horizontally across his back.
"Oh my god, Dean! Were you leaning into the trunk when it closed? We need to get you inside and check your ribs. Do they feel broken?"
"No, but I'll have a spectacular bruise there by morning." Though his eyes looked more focused, Sam was worried that his speech slurred a bit. He decided the new head wound was priority one.
Once Dean was patched up, Sam settled in to do research. None of what he'd been looking at fit what was happening now. They had to figure out what was wrong before things got serious.
"Dean, don't fall asleep on me yet. We still aren't sure if you got a concussion from that last hit."
"Dude, I told you I'm fine like a hundred times. Lay off already!"
"Yeah, except you'd say you were fine if you were missing a limb, so I can never tell if you're lying to me." He was relieved to hear his brother sounding more like his cranky self.
Looking at articles, reports, and photos from the accidents at the Killer Crossing brought him no closer to an answer. None of it made any sense. Not even the smaller accidents fit the facts. He was about to give up the search for the night when he came across a photo from the original crash. With all of the information handed to them, research on the original crash hadn't been necessary. They'd focused on what followed. The photo looked like it was taken almost immediately after the crash, before the cars were moved from the street. The front end of Suzanne's Civic was crushed almost to the interior. The car she'd hit was a much older car. It explained why only the passenger died.
The solid frame kept the car itself from severe damage. The older style of seat belts only held at the waist, which meant no shoulder straps to prevent head trauma. According to the article, the model of the car was a Chevy Caprice. It looked so much like the Impala. Color drained from Sam's face as he realized their problem. I have to check this out before mentioning it to Dean. I hope I'm wrong about this. All the extra research on Suzanne and all the other crashes wouldn't help now. He needed to check out the car Marcus took the headlight door from. He would need to talk to the driver of the Caprice about the accident too. Then he would break the bad news to his brother.
Sam spent a couple more hours finding out all he could about Wesley Oram and the person driving the Caprice. The more information he found, the more he was sure he'd found the source of his bad feeling. Wesley and his older brother were on their way to a football game for his twelfth birthday. Both parents died when he was ten, victims of a tornado. Scott, his older brother, had taken him to the storm shelter. They survived. Their home and family were gone in an instant. With no other relatives to help, Scott gave up a chance at college football to raise his little brother. Wesley had only been cremated because his brother couldn't afford a burial. After his brother's death, Scott took his own life, shutting himself in a friend's garage with his car running. He never forgave himself for not protecting his little brother.
The last bit of information caused Sam to look over at his big brother and wonder. Would he do that? Would he just give up if I weren't here? He hoped the answer would be no, but couldn't be certain. He'd make sure they never needed to find out.
Sam was usually the first to wake. As luck would have it, today was no different. Luck and a few injuries. He hoped to talk with Marcus, get some breakfast, and be back before Dean woke. Leaving a note to keep his brother from worrying, he left as quietly as possible.
It took no time at all to walk to the garage. He only hoped it would be open so early. The sooner he had answers, the sooner they could fix things and leave. Marcus was turning on the open sign as he approached.
"Morning, Sam. What can I do for you?"
"Hi. I was hoping for a small favor. This may sound strange. May I see the car you took the headlight door from? The one you put in the Impala."
"Sure. Mind me asking why?"
"No, of course not. I was curious which parts are interchangeable with the Impala. Dean usually does his own repairs. I thought he might like to have a few spare parts stored away. I'd ask him, but I want it to be a surprise."
"You boys are pretty close, aren't you? I can't imagine my sister going to that much trouble."
"Yeah, and I know how much he loves his car."
Marcus took him to the salvage yard behind the garage and pointed him in the right direction. Way in the back, between an ugly blue Ford Escort and what was left of an old red pick-up truck, sat the object of his search. It was eerie how much the Caprice looked the Impala. Even the color was identical. It made the feeling that was residing in the pit of his stomach rise and lodge in his throat. He knew without looking that this was Scott Oram's car, the cause of the problems with the Impala. Nothing showed on the EMF, but that was normal. Ghosts were more active at night. Or it could mean the spirit is no longer here. I really wanted to be wrong about this. How can I break this to Dean?
Sam told the mechanic he would discuss the parts with his brother after all and thanked him for his time. He needed to grab breakfast, get back to the room, and check out the car before Dean woke. He managed to beat the morning rush and got back to the room in less than thirty minutes. Dean was still sound asleep with no signs of waking anytime soon.
Depositing the food on the table, Sam grabbed his bag and went back out to the car. No sooner had he turned on the EMF, than it lit up like a Christmas tree. Looks like I was right. Damn! Turning the machine off and returning to his bag, he headed to the trunk to get their father's journal. There were several incantations for exorcising spirits. He hoped one of them worked on an inanimate object. Because salting and burning the Impala was so not an option.
The blood on the ground a grim reminder of the night before, he took care that the trunk didn't close on him. In the bright light, more blood inside showed exactly where Dean's head met metal. The spot was bigger than he expected. One hand firmly held the trunk open while he searched for the journal. He came up empty. He could feel the pressure on his arm where it was trying to slam down again. Thinking back to the last time they needed the journal, he realized he'd left it in the car, more precisely under his seat.
The need for the incantations in the journal won out over caution. Maybe I can fix this without Dean ever knowing there was a problem. Sam hesitantly reached for the door, fully expecting it to open suddenly. When nothing happened, he felt confident enough to kneel down and reach under the seat. Alarms went off in his head seconds too late as the door shut on his back, pain causing him to seize up and gasp for breath. Determined to get the journal, he leaned in again, grabbed it, and rushed to get free. He almost succeeded. The door closed on his shoulder with enough force to make his head snap forward and hit the roof of the car. The last thing he remembered was clutching the journal close as he crumpled.
Dean was vaguely aware of the door opening again but was too tired to care. Not to mention movement woke the pain in his head and back. Asleep, he didn't have to feel or think about last night. However the last intrusion brought with it the aroma of coffee. He might be willing to venture from his cocoon of comfort for coffee. It was the smell of biscuits that sealed the deal. Rolling over gingerly, he realized his back was mostly just stiff. It was his head that pounded with every movement. Sitting up was a slow and painful process. Once up, the pain evened out. He decided some ibuprofen would go nicely with the coffee before he tried to move much more. Sam anticipated this and left two pain pills next to his cup. Thanks, Sammy.
As he pulled the food containers from the bag, Dean thought he heard a familiar beeping noise. When it didn't repeat, he chalked it up to the headache. Two bites into his biscuits and gravy, he finally noticed Sam wasn't in the room. Before freaking out, he checked for a note. He found it under the other cup of coffee. The note said he left to get breakfast. Breakfast was there. So where was Sam? He heard the car's trunk shut. Question answered, he went back to his breakfast. If he were thinking clearly, that fact would've worried him. He hadn't been sure last night what was up with his car. As it was, he was fine knowing his brother was close. Five minutes later, his breakfast almost gone, he wondered aloud, "What the hell is he doing out there?"
The caffeine and ibuprofen finally kicked in, which made standing a possibility. He went to the door to see what his brother was doing. Probably messing with my radio and mirrors again. I'll kick his ass. All irritation and pain was forgotten at the sight of his brother on the ground, unconscious and bleeding. While rushing to his side, he quickly looked around for whoever might've gotten the drop on his brother. It wasn't like Sam to be that easily overtaken. Their father trained them too well. His first fear was that Gordon Walker escaped jail or sent another hunter to finish what he couldn't.
A cursory check of injuries found only two head wounds. No stab wounds, no bullets, nothing fatal. The cut on the front wasn't deep, the bleeding not even that bad. It was the one on the back that worried Dean. The blow to the front must've been hard enough that Sam wasn't fully conscious when he fell. He didn't try to brace himself and his head took the brunt of the fall.
"Sam? Dude, you gotta give me a sign here. Damn it Sam, wake up!" Dean started to panic. Sam should've come around by now. At least his breathing and heartbeat were strong and steady. He reached an arm under his brother's to pull him to a sitting position, when he finally noticed Sam had something in his hands. Dad's journal? Why did he need that? The movement elicited no response, which only made his panic grow. He put the journal in Sam's bag and throwing it over his shoulder, he lifted them both to standing, attempting to ignore his pain for the time being. The walk to the room seemed to take forever. Sam's dead weight strained already sore muscles. His head felt like it would explode at any moment. All that mattered was making sure Sam was ok.
He laid Sam down on his bed and grabbed the first aid kit. The gash on the back of his head was bad enough to require four stitches. He talked to his brother the entire time he was patching him up, hoping for an answer. After the stitches, he checked thoroughly for other injuries, finding bruises forming on his lower back and shoulder. The lack of response through the whole process worried Dean more than he'd like to admit. Please, Sam. You have to be ok. I need you to be ok. He checked Sam's breathing and heartbeat again. Both remained steady. His biggest fear now was a concussion.
"Come on, man. If you don't give me something here, I will take you to the hospital."
Normally that wouldn't be an option, which showed how truly scared Dean was. They avoided hospitals unless it was extreme. He was reaching for his phone to call 911 when Sam finally started to come around. He was so relieved it was all he could do not to rush over and embarrass himself with a huge girlie hug. Sam most certainly wouldn't let him forget that. He settled for checking the head wounds again.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like crap. How did I get here?"
"You don't remember?" He noticed Sam looked confused, eyes not focused completely, speech slightly slurred. He hoped that would pass quickly.
"The last thing I remember clearly is going to see Marcus about something. Then I woke up here."
"You went to see Marcus? Well I know you stopped for breakfast on the way back. What I don't know is how you ended up unconscious in the parking lot. I was hoping you could tell me that."
"Wish I could. My head is killing me. How long was I out?"
"Long enough for me to give you four stitches." And almost take you to the hospital. "About fifteen minutes or so." It felt like hours. "Think you could manage to eat some of your breakfast? You need to take some pain pills, the stronger ones, and those shouldn't be taken on an empty stomach. Especially one as delicate as yours."
"Give me a few minutes for the world to stop spinning and come into focus."
"Ok. Once you've eaten something, I'll go find out what you talked to Marcus about. Maybe it'll help you remember what happened afterwards, how you ended up hugging concrete. Any idea why you had Dad's journal when it happened?"
"I did? Hmm. It doesn't ring any bells. While you're gone I'll see if some of my research from last night triggers any memories. I'm pretty sure that something I found last night was why I wanted to see Marcus. I just wish I knew what."
"No going to sleep. The fact that you've lost some memories means you probably have a concussion." It concerned Dean that the memory loss went back as far as last night. "I won't be gone long and expect you to be awake when I get back. I'm not carrying your heavy ass to the hospital."
After having to carry Sam to the room, Dean's head and back were hurting again, along with the bruised leg he'd forgotten until that moment. The aches reminded him to hold the door firmly as he got in the car. Again the mirrors were moved and the radio was now playing easy listening.
"Ok, Celine Dion is the last straw! I don't care if you're injured, Sam. I will kick your ass for making me hear that stupid Titanic song." Crap! Never admit I even know that song.
Minutes later he pulled up outside the garage. Marcus waved and headed over. "Hey, I see the baby is running again. So what was wrong with her?"
"Never did figure it out. Hope it never happens again though. Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"Sam came by earlier. What did he talk with you about? He's been having trouble remembering things since the accident. So if you could tell me, it would be a great help."
"Sure thing. It's not serious is it? He seemed fine this morning."
"Nah, it hasn't happened much and it's always little things."
"He asked me about the car I salvaged the headlight door from. Wanted to know what parts are interchangeable with the Impala. He asked to see it too."
"He did, huh? Can you show it to me? Salvaging spare parts is actually a pretty good idea. I'll have to thank the kid for that. Did he ask you anything else?" It was a good idea. Dean wanted to know the real reason Sam asked to see the car.
"Nope, just asked to see it. It's the black Caprice at the very back of the lot. You can't miss it. Let me know if there are any of its parts you want. I can make you a good offer on them."
Dean made his way to the back of the yard trying to figure out why it was so important for Sam to see this car. The Caprice looked to be in pretty good condition considering where it ended. The only damage to the old car was the missing headlight door and a huge dent in the passenger side. There was nothing special about it. What were you looking for little brother? Seeing this car, so much like the Impala, abandoned to the scrap heap made Dean appreciate his baby all the more. It occurred to him that to Sam's eyes the cars would look identical. That still didn't answer the question of what was so special about this car.
He was headed back to the motel when he remembered one more question for Marcus. A vague unease was settling in his mind as he dialed Marcus, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Sorry to bother you again. Do you know where the Caprice came from? How it ended up in the salvage yard?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? That was one of the cars from the first accident. The kid who died was the passenger in that car."
"Thanks, Marcus," he said, a hundred thoughts all trying to be heard at once. The events of the last 24 hours came together in a terrible realization for Dean. The car couldn't even make it very far out of town. It didn't start running again until they planned to stay. The radio, the mirrors, and the accidents. How could he be so blind to obvious signs of an angry spirit? He paled as he now knew what happened to Sam. The beeping sound he realized was the EMF, should have known immediately.
Sam figured it out and needed Dad's journal to find a way to fix things. Dean was angry with himself. If he hadn't ignored the obvious signs, Sam wouldn't have been hurt. It was his fault. He was so lost in his thoughts of guilt, he didn't hear his phone ringing.
He tried to pull the car over. His baby had other plans. No! The spirit, not my baby. Dean was angry with himself again. Everything pointed to an escalation of the spirit's pranks. Inside the car was the last place he should be. Now he might pay for it with his life. He called Sam to tell him all he'd found out from Marcus, to warn him.
"Sam, I know what--" was all he got out before an invisible arm pinned him to the seat, causing him to drop the phone. His car, now under the ghost's control, turned into the motel parking lot. He could hear Sam frantically calling his name through his phone and tried to warn him.
"Sam!"
The warning died as pressure wrapped around his throat. He saw Sam rush from their room and felt the car pick up speed. His baby was aimed at his brother and he was utterly helpless to do anything but watch, Sam frozen in fear at the sight of the car barreling for him.
"Noooo!!"
The scream seemed spur the younger hunter to action. At the last moment, the car swerved right to avoid the building. Luckily, Sam chose to dodge the opposite direction, missing impact by inches. Dean couldn't turn his head to reassure himself that Sam was unhurt. He tried looking in the rearview mirror. All he got was his first glimpse of the spirit controlling his car. It was not who he'd expected.
"Who the hell are you? I thought it was a kid who died in the crash." Instead, he was dealing with a man about Sam's age.
"The kid that died in that crash was my baby brother. My brother was taken from me and now I'll take yours from you."
"I know how you feel, man. I really do. I can't let you hurt Sam. I'll do whatever it takes to stop you." Dean wasn't sure how they would get out of this situation without someone getting hurt. He'd make sure it wasn't Sam. He would sacrifice everything to assure that. His car or even his life, either was a fair trade in his mind. Sam came before it all.
"Take me instead. You know you'd do the same thing for your little brother. You have to promise not to hurt anyone else."
The spirit laughed and said, "You don't get it. I'm killing you both. I wanted to kill your brother first so you could watch, go through what I did. I guess it'll have to be the other way around. I'll let him suffer, then he's next. Say goodbye."
The ghost released him and the car turned to face the motel room again. Dean attempted to reach for his phone, to warn Sam, when the spirit made itself known again. The seat moved forward with enough force for the steering wheel to knock the wind out of him. The continued pressure on his chest made breathing almost impossible.
I can't let it end like this. I have to be here for Sam. I have to save him.
He tried to slide free of the wheel, made slow progress, and hoped he would make it out in time to stay conscious. Fighting with the last of his strength, he could've sworn he felt ribs cracking. The pain spreading in his chest to lungs not getting air blocked out all thought. He needed to get free, couldn't think clearly anymore how to do it.
Sorry, Sam. I tried. Once again oblivion took him.
A/N: Just a little fun fact from real life. The crappy blue Escort and the red truck are both cars I once owned, that caused me loads of trouble. A salvage yard is actually too good a home for either of them.