Chapter4

Four Corners

Carefully Rose spread the mashed leaves of the Silverweed on Amalia's feet. She had also added one leave of the Gingko. The wounds looked good. There was no infection and they seemed to heal properly. Rose was obviously aware that the little girl was weary of her, but her aura also revealed that only were the child's wound healing but her emotional state had greatly improved. It glowed white, with flickers of yellow and blues.

"Well done Rose. Now let me bandage her feet."

Rose stepped aside and waited until Nathan was finished. As soon as he was finished Amalia sat up, wiggled her toes and looked down at her feet.

"Feels real good. Thanks."

"Try to stand up Amalia." Nathan coaxed.

The girl rose to her feet and winced lightly, but nothing more. These plants Rose had put on were really helping.

"It feels good. It barely hurts."

"Take it easy today. Don't walk too much on them. If you want to get somewhere ask any of us to carry you." Nathan advised.

"But…."

"No, buts Amalia." Nathan interrupted her with a firm voice.

Grumbling and pouting she crossed her arms. Chris picked her up and sat her on his shoulders again.

"Quit sulkin'. I'm sure you're gonna be well soon. So you should lap all this up, because I sure won't be carryin ya around once you can stand on your own two feet again."

"I'm not sulking!" She protested. Chris reached back and lifted her up again, then suddenly tipped her upside down holding her ankles in a good grip. Giggling she wrapped her arms around one of his leg as he released one of her feet and tickled her sides. Squealing she tried to squirm out of his grip.

"Lemme go." She laughed. Chris turned her around again and carefully sat her gently down on her feet.

As her feet touched the ground Vin entered the clinic. "Found ya. JD told me that y' all were in here." Looking at Rose he asked, "Do ya want to come with me on a ride?"

Rose nodded eagerly. "Course I do. When can we go?"

"Now. Come, I help ya saddle Nutmeg."

Amalia watched the scene somewhat jealous. From behind and above Amalia's head Chris cued Vin and then down at Amalia.

Catching Chris silent hint, "And of course yer comin' with us too." Vin added, then bent down, picked Amalia up and sat her on his shoulders. Now it was Rose's turn to project a hint of jealousy. Vin had never let her ride on his shoulders. Oh well, after all Amalia's feet were hurt. So she was sure that would be the only reason, she mused. All three they headed for the stables.

"She's looking alot better, isn't she?" Chris said looking after the trio.

"Yes, she is. I hope she can forget what happened to her." Nathan replied.

"She's a tough little critter. She's a survivor fer sure. She'll get over it. At least I hope ." He added in his head.

Four Corners Saloon

Ezra was playing a game of checkers with JD as a man with silvery gray hair entered the room. He looked about twenty or thirty years old

"JD would you perhaps know that gentleman?" The gambler asked and nodded towards the man who had just ordered a drink. The barman took out a large glass and filled it with water. This order owned him some curious looks from the other people in the saloon.

JD turned and glanced at the man, then turned back to Ezra, "No, must be new in town." The younger man replied and also glanced at the man. The stranger seemed to feel their gazes and turned around. He raised his glass in their direction and downed it in one.

Ezra stood up and headed over to him. "Welcome to Four Corners mister…?"

"Sanderson." The man replied shortly.

"My name is Ezra Standish may I invite you to another drink?"

"Yeah, if it's water."

"You approve any other liquids, sir?"

"I don't like alcoholic drinks. It affects your concentration; you can't think straight." Sanderson replied, "And it makes you lose your inhibitions, like this guy." He pointed towards a cowboy who lay sound asleep with his head on the table. An empty whisky-bottle was standing next to his head.

However, the cowboy's friend had seen the gesture. He got to his feet and staggered over to them. "Whatya mean? Ya lookin' for trouble?" The man barked and two more men stood up.

Knowing the signs for a coming row, Ezra stepped between the men. "I'm sure Mister Sanderson didn't have it in mind to insult you and your friend. He was just explaining to me why he despises alcoholic drinks."

Sanderson nodded, but something strange gleamed in his pale blue eyes. "No, I had not any intentions of insulting you cause of yer drinking. Some more water please." He ordered as he turned back to the bar, obviously thinking that everything was over.

After some minutes Ezra was able to convince the men that Sanderson really didn't mean any harm. Grumbling they withdrew to their table and started a game of poker.

"You surely have a talent to find yourself enemies Mister Sanderson. One of these men was just released from jail yesterday because he shot someone in the leg."

"Then I have to thank you for yer help." The man said grinning broadly. "I could offer you a drink. Unfortunately it'll only be water."

Ezra chuckled and agreed to the offer. Maybe he would be able to find out some more about the man. Suddenly the man froze and turned to the doors of the saloon.

"I have to go."

Before Ezra could reply he was out of the saloon. JD went to follow him, but when he got outside the man was gone.

"Ez, who the hell was that?"

"He said his name was Sanderson, but didn't come forth with any more information, I'm afraid."

"I wonder why he had to go in such a hurry."

"No, idea JD, no idea."

They both sat down at their table again and continued their game of checkers.

Rockridge

Sam woke up and looked around, feeling that something was wrong. "Dad, Dean! Wake up! I think I've heard something." He shook them both.

John was immediately up reaching for the gun under his pillow. Once he realized that it was his son he let the grasp go and sat up. "What the … Sam!" He growled.

"Let me sleep." Dean grumbled and drew the blanket over his head.

John's head suddenly snapped up and he swung a look around their room. He reached over and yanked the blanket away. He had heard it too; a high-pitched scream of a girl. He jumped to his feet and picked up his shotgun.

"Let's go!" He ordered and put his boots on.

Sam and Dean quickly got dressed and grabbed the gear they had packed it into their saddle bags. A colt with silverbullets, holy water, a shotgun with rock salt, several knifes and a bag filled with salt.

As they came out, people had already gathered around a young boy standing in front of an abandoned orphanage.

"Benjamin. Where's Robyn?" A man asked crouching down in front of him.

"In…. in… in the-the house Pa." He sobbed. Tears were streaming down his cheek and he was crying hysterically. "The-the-the door closed, it was stuck…I couldn't open it…I…I…tried…but…."

"Shhhh, calm down. It was probably jist the wind."

"Step aside." John growled and pushed the other men away. He put the shotgun against the lock and pulled the trigger. The door burst open and John and Dean stepped into the entrance. There was no sign of the girl.

"Who are you?" The boy's father asked.

"Bounty hunters!" John replied shortly. "We think John la Pole is in the area. He killed a couple of children in San Francisco and shot the sheriff in Lonsdale. We've been after him for three months. Let us handle this and no one will get hurt."

"We can…"

"No, you can't help. You have no practice in dealing with murderers." Dean snapped. "If you want to help guard the area around the house." On hearing the word Murderers murmurs and mumbles were heard from the crowd.

Benjamin burst in to tears once again, panicking at the thought his friend was in real danger. "It's my fault, she can't' be dead, she can't be it was jist a silly dare!" yelled the boy sobbing into his father's chest.

Sam bent down, and gently laid his hands on the boys shoulder, "It's okay. We'll get yer friend out of there." He turned to the boy's father, "Why don't you take the boy home." The man lifted up his boy and motioned to his neighbors.

Reluctantly the men agreed and circled the building, while John, Dean and Sam went into the house. It was dark. They could barely see anything. Sam lit a torch and held it up.

"Stay in the middle Sammy." John ordered and raised the shotgun.

Quickly Sam and Dean changed positions and they continued their way down the corridor. Soon they reached several doors and stopped. Suddenly something black dropped from the ceiling right on the torch. It sizzled, but continued to burn. Another black piece fell down right in front of John's feet. He bent down and carefully touched it with his fingers. It was sticky and had nearly the same consistency like resin.

All of sudden a cold wind rushed through the corridor and the torch lapsed. Sam reached into his pockets fumbling for some matches. In less than a second he had lit one and held it up in the air. Right in front of them stood a blood soaked man. In his hands he held an axe and looked angrily at them. He raised a hand in their direction and waved a quick movement sideways.

"He wants us to leave." Dean whispered.

"Ya think! Well we won't without the girl." John raised his shotgun took aim and fired it. The ghost let out an angry howl and disappeared. "We have to split up. I take this door. Dean you go to the right. Sam, take the left!"

Without another word they opened the doors and ran deeper into the house. Sam came into the kitchen and looked around, but there seemed no space where someone could hide a young girl.

All of sudden a young child appeared in front of him. She only wore a tattered nightshirt and had intensive blue eyes. She smiled sadly at him and pointed towards a door at the other end of the kitchen. "Go!" She whispered then disappeared again. Sam hesitated. Was that a trap? This girl was obviously a ghost too? But who was she? Was she evil? It's not time for this. GO! Another voice in his head yelled. He tightened his grip around the shotgun and headed for the door.

John looked around. He was in a room which looked like a workshop. There were weaving looms and big tubs for washing wool. He heard something rustle behind him and spun around raising the shotgun. An axe suddenly appeared cutting through the air inches from his face. He may have reacted slowly getting off a shot, but he'd taken enough of a step back thus avoiding any major threat to his person. His gun however did not fare as well; the axe glanced of the gun barrel leaving a deep mark. Now the weapon was useless. The man swung the axe another time with a wide blow trying to behead him. John dodged it using the useless fire arm as a baton. He then drew his iron knife in one smooth action and stabbed the ghost in the chest.

"How does this feel bastard." He growled as the ghost once again disappeared. John knew it was only temporary and he had to hurry. The shotgun wouldn't survive many more of this battering and the ghost just got angrier and angrier gaining more and more power.

Dean was in the dormitory. Out from the nowhere a girl appeared in front of him. It was the same Sam had met in the in the kitchen. She raised a hand in his direction and shook her head. "Get out of my way." Dean growled and strode towards her. As he raised the shotgun she stepped aside and vanished. Lightly confused Dean looked around. Who the hell had that been?

Meanwhile Sam had reached the door and opened it. A stairway that led upstairs was in front of him and he spotted drops of blood on the steps. He was obviously headed the right way. Taking two steps at once he ran towards the top, not bothering to open the doors which branched off the stairway. As he neared the last landing, he heard the whimpers. It was clearly from a living being. He quickened his steps and soon he reached the top. He threw a quick glance back, making sure no one was behind him. Cautiously he opened the door and immediately spotted the large stain of dried blood on the wooden floor. This was the place where Alison Sullivan had been killed.

The whimpers seemed to be coming from of the large wardrobe on the opposite of the room. Within two strides, Sam had reached it and grasped the doorknob. Before he could pull it open something hard hit him against his hip. A chest of drawers had smashed into him and was now pushing him towards the window. He put his arms up and crossed them protectively over his face as he crashed through the glass. He fell ten feet before his body smashed into the ground. Fighting for breath, Sam stared at the window above, watching in surreal awe as the last slithers of class followed his path of descent, glistening in the night sky like stars. Then everything went black.

Robyn heard the noises outside and hid her face in her arms. Earlier when the man had appeared in front of her, she had instantly regretted her decision to go into this house. He had taken her and now she would die. She was petrified. She tried to stay quiet and smothered her need to cry. She peeked up and heard someone grasp the doorknob. Creaking it turned and the door slowly opened. Robyn wasn't able to close her eyes. She kept staring at the planks which slowly swung to the side revealing a small girl not much older than herself.

The mysterious child grabbed Robyn's hand and dragged her up to a standing position. "Come!" She said, her voice echoing oddly. The girl led Robyn to the stairs and together they slowly and quietly descended. Robyn didn't realize that her savior's feet didn't make any sounds as they touched the ground.

John ducked as another chair flew across the room aiming for his chest. "Come out!" He taunted. "You can't be scared or are you?" He taunted.

Before the last word had completely left his mouth, the ghost appeared in front of him; the axe raised ready for another strike. John jumped back and the blade sunk deep into the floorboards, narrowly missing his private parts. Really pissed off now, he threw the knife and hit Kendall square between the eyes. Once again the apparition disappeared with an angry howl. Panting John looked around. He couldn't fight him like this forever. Somehow he had to trap him.

John produced two more iron knifes and looked around. The ghost didn't appear again. Instead he heard a high-pitched scream coming from the corridor. He dropped his shotgun and ran towards the door. He pulled up in the hallway where a ten year old girl pressed herself against a door, flinching as the axe welding ghost stood in front of her. Slowly and assured of success the entity raised his axe. John reduced the space between him and them, but he was not going to get there in time to toss any of the knives. He didn't want to risk hitting the girl. Just as Kendall went to strike, the door behind the girl burst open and the sound of a shotgun shook the air. The ghost disappeared. Dean quickly reloaded the gun and picked the girl up.

Dean, seeing his father was unarmed, tossed the shotgun to him. "Let's get her out of here and then we need to find Sam."

John nodded and threw an anxious look towards the door he'd seen Sam had take, but he knew his son could take care of himself. Sam was experienced and trained for such situations. Dean was right; they had to get the girl outside.

As they reached the door, they heard an angry howl and turned around. The ghost was running towards them with his axe held high in the air; his bloodthirsty scream filling the house. John raised the shotgun and took aim. "Shut up." He bellowed and pulled the trigger. The rock-salt blasted through the ghost and he finally disappeared.

Outside Robyn was instantly welcomed by her very relieved father, who wrapped her into the tightest hug he could muster.

"Dean we have to go back Sam is still inside and….." He stopped in the middle of the sentence. Sam was lying motionless on the street one arm unnaturally contorted.

"Yer son's passed out. The doc checked him over. He's got a broken arm, but be fine in a couple of weeks." Robyn's father said while he was rocking his little girl.

John let out a deep sigh of relief. "Come Dean. Lets finish this." Dean understood exactly what his father meant. They had to burn Kendall's bones.

"Sir, do you know where Kendall Brooks is buried." John asked turning to Robyn's father again.

"Yes, in the little graveyard right behind the church but…."

"Thanks. Dean you know what you have to do." John muttered then went over to Sam. His son had regained consciousness, but his face was pale due to the pain. The doctor attending him moved out of the way. Sam went to sit up, but grimaced in pain. John crouched down next to him and gently pressed him back to the ground. "Relax son. She's safe. You did a good job finding and getting her out."

Sam shook his head. "I didn't do it." He grunted between his clenched teeth.

John frowned. "Who was it then?"

"A girl. Another little girl. She showed me the way. Dad she was the same as….. you know." He finished ambiguously, not wanting to reveal their true trade in front of the townsfolk.

The doctor stepped forward, "Your bone in the upper arm is broken. We should fix it as quick as possible or he may have permanent limited movement." The short man said.

"Okay."

"Can you carry him to my clinic? I've got everything I need there." The doctor asked.

John nodded. Carefully he put one arm under his son's shoulder and the other under his legs. Sam groaned as he lifted him up. "Sorry son." He mumbled. The doctor made a sign with his hand directing John to follow him. He walked cautiously not wanting to cause Sam unnecessary pain.

Meanwhile Dean was digging up Kendall's grave. Soon the shovel hit something hard. With three blows the planks broke and revealed Kendall's remains. The smell of rotten flesh stung in Dean's nose and he wrinkled his face in disgust. He took out a bottle filled with lamp oil and spread it over Kendall's body. He spread salt over it and climbed out of the grave. "Rest well." He muttered and tossed a burning match into the coffin.

I want to thank Gaben for beta-reading this with much patience and creativness. I also thank otkcp who's my co-writer. Hope you enjoyed reading it and please review.