Beta: That Girl Six
Notes: Oops. Forget to post yesterday. Sorry, Ridley is away, and I am crazed with a formal obligation. Ridley suggested an idea for this part, which I worked in. Happy Thursday!
Part 5
Dean pulled Caleb along with him. They had to go find out where Gwendolyn lived, which required a simple conversation with Walter. He looked at the door before stepping away. Caleb, done with his protesting, must have noticed Dean's pensiveness.
"What's the matter?"
"You don't think things are going to go south with Clara, do you?" Dean was worried about his brother. Sam seemed to like the girl, and she had lied to him. It was a lie of omission, something the Winchesters were quite familiar with, but a lie nonetheless with Sam being the one lied to. Caleb had voiced and was still having a feeling that the townspeople were hiding something, and it spelled trouble.
"How far south?" Caleb asked as he slowed down their pace to the motel office.
Dean shook his head as he thought of Madison. He had tried to protect Sam, but his brother was honorable, fulfilling Madison's request at the cost of his soul. Dean knew Sam was in a constant state of vigilance about going evil, especially after extracting their father's last words from him. Dean also kept an eye on his brother's moral compass. He had risked a lot for Madison, and Dean couldn't allow the same for Clara. "Like put a bullet in her heart kind of south. Because we did encourage him..."
Caleb squeezed his arm, and Dean stopped walking. "I don't think Marcia Brady is some kind of succubus, if that's what you're asking."
"How about a werewolf or any of the other supernatural baddies?" Dean asked to make sure there was no risk to Sam. If so, then he would kill Clara himself rather than have his brother harmed. His kid brother had been hurt enough for too many lifetimes. They all had.
The older hunter shook his head. "No, none of that, just that she's not wearing a bra, so I guess that makes her a bit of a bad girl."
"You noticed that?" He switched gears — needed to switch gears — and lifted his eyebrows.
"Like you didn't." Caleb gave him a slight push as they entered the motel office.
Walter directed them to the town's only boarding house. Boarding houses were notoriously seedy, a way station for those who needed a longer term commitment than a hotel but were willing to share kitchens and baths with strangers. John Winchester used to steer his family clear of them, and only used them in desperation when money was running short.
However, this building was different. It was a three story brick building where windows had boxes overflowing with flowers trailing to the next level. The entryway was clean, and a directory of names was posted. Only four people lived there, which could explain the neatness since it wasn't filled to capacity.
Gwendolyn lived on the third floor, and there were no other boarders listed for that floor. They listened at the door first before knocking. Gwendolyn called through the door, asking who it was, and Caleb announced them.
She was dressed in a similar gown to what they had seen her in before, long, flowing. She beckoned them inside of her room. Where the hallway was bare, her room was a riot of florals and bows. It was very frilly, girly, and uncomfortable. This was not a room where men were brought for Gwendolyn to service them.
"We wanted to stop by and check if you were okay," Caleb started, which was part of the plan since he was the one with the connection to the woman.
Gwendolyn rubbed Caleb's forearm. "Aren't you boys just what the doctor ordered?"
Dean raised his brows. "We saw Mr. Francis. He's shaken up."
Her eyes grew wide with what could be easily read as concern. She dropped Caleb's arm.
"He's fine. His mother —" Dean explained, but was interrupted by Gwendolyn.
"Has him over a barrel." She sat on the chaise lounge, graceless, then extended her legs out.
Caleb sidled up to the lounger. "I have to ask: you're a beautiful woman, why him? There has to be someone else." It was said in a teasing tone, but her answer is what they needed a read on.
Dean saw her shocked reaction. But she seemed to catch herself and winked at them. "Flattery will get you nowhere."
They stayed for a few more minutes and then made their exit.
"Well?" Dean asked as they walked down the stairs.
Caleb shrugged his shoulders. "She talks a good game. We should get some pointers from her."
"Speak for yourself," Dean teased.
"I taught you everything you know." Caleb pulled his shirt to stop him.
Dean smiled and rubbed his chest. "And I improved upon it."
"You can't tell." Caleb released the shirt, which Dean straightened into place as he frowned at the insult thrown at him. However, he had started it. "Anyway, there's no one else but him."
"I'm right again," Dean stated. He had wanted to take the direct route on this hunt, but the bone burning hadn't worked, and they couldn't burn down the house. So he used a little originality, which was actually away from violence, shocking both Sam and Caleb. Sometimes hunts weren't about guns. This one required some finesse.
Dean was going to prove to his brother and friend he could do finesse. He didn't always like to be associated with being the brawn of an operation. As Guardian, he had to show he could think things out and not rush into violence. He hoped he had the chance to become The Guardian; he wanted to show Jim he could do the job well, take pride in it.
They went to the restaurant and spoke to some of the staff, then to the counter at the five and dime store. They had formed an accurate picture of Gwendolyn — she wasn't the cliché call girl with a heart of gold. She wasn't a prostitute, floosy, a woman of ill repute, or any of the other names they had heard about town. She was Marvin Francis's woman and there was no one else. "I wonder who started her reputation?" Dean asked Caleb as they walked back to the room from the parking lot.
"She probably laughed at a guy that had a low batting average."
Dean snorted. It was an issue they did not have.
When they caught up to Sam, he was hovering over the computer where there was a lingering scent of soft perfume in the air. Clara had been there, and Sam seemed content. He just hoped Clara was on the up and up, for all their sakes.
"Find anything out?"
"Yeah, I found some stuff on séances." Sam directed himself to Caleb. "You're going to have to read it to figure out how to use your abilities."
"Great, 'cause now I need you." Dean pulled Sam up and pushed Caleb into the chair vacated by Sam.
"Hey, what is this? Interchangeable psychics?" Caleb protested, attempting to get up until Dean pointed to him.
"No, I need him for his face. Yours screams 'bad boy'." He gave his friend's face a light pat. "His says 'nice guy'." He squeezed Sam's cheeks. "I need nice guy."
Sometimes he enjoyed the idea of being The Guardian and having Caleb and Sam follow his orders. Lord knows he had a hard enough time getting them to do it otherwise.
They had to meet Mr. Francis away from the house, away from the mean spirit, so they chose the bar Caleb and he had been in the night before. Sam put Mr. Francis at ease, convincing him they weren't coming to kill him or burn the house. "So what would make your mother disown you?" Sam asked over his glass bottle of Coke.
"If I made an honest woman of Gwendolyn and married her." Mr. Francis laughed a bit, then looked at them when he noticed neither Dean nor his brother were laughing. "I…I…c-c-can't."
Dean got in closer to Mr. Francis. "She has a reputation. . ."
"She does."
"Look, this may be hard to believe, but sometimes people get a reputation…one little thing gets blown up. . .like digging up a grave and then suddenly there's a murder rap." His brother interrupted his soliloquy with a less than subtle cough. This was hardly about some of their small, minor infractions which had been blown up by the FBI, even if the example made more sense to them than to Mr. Francis. "Anyway, for all the talk, there's only you — I looked into it personally."
"He means he interviewed the locals." Sam stepped in again. He looked down, before bringing his gaze back up and speaking with intensity. "Do you love her? Because if you do, then you should marry her. Don't wait, just do it."
It was Dean who was taken aback. Sam's regret was evident — he wished he had married Jessica or given her a ring before that fateful weekend. Sam belonged to her and her to Sam, but an engagement, a ring, made it known to the whole world. Dean wondered what his intentions were about Clara.
Mr. Francis's eyes watered, but he gave them a small smile. "Do you think she'll say yes?"
(((((((((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))))))
Dean, Caleb, and Sam were impressed and scared. The town pulled together a wedding within two hours, complete with the gazebo decorated with white paper wedding bells, which was being used as the ceremony site. The reception would be later at the Francis house. They stayed in the back to watch the 'I dos'; Dean watched Sam while Caleb studied Dean. He could guess what was going on in Dean's mind: worry, worry about Sam's feelings. Sam seemed to be holding up well, maybe imagining himself with Jess or even Clara. Caleb decided to distract them; he placed his finger on Dean's cheek.
"Is that a tear, Deana?"
Dean batted the hand away. "You kidding me? My hero is Boone. He and Kathleen are going on what, twenty years?"
Caleb didn't see himself as marrying anyone, let alone settling with someone for twenty years. It was the fear of denying someone children. The Reaves line would end with him — he didn't want to risk passing along any demonic genes.
For Dean, not getting married had to do more with not caring about society and having some license to say he was committed to someone. Caleb whistled softly. "That's commitment phobia talking," he teased.
Dean frowned. "Pot, kettle, black."
Caleb chuckled, and was about to start a discussion about how if Dean had taken Jim's advice then Dean would be a polygamist, when Sam quietly told them both off.
"Would you two shut up?" he interjected, his eyes straight forward on the ceremony taking place.
"You shut up." Dean elbowed his brother. "I hate to spoil the ending for you, Sammy, but they're going to kiss. We should head to the house."
Dean pulled his brother away, and Caleb followed, clasping a hand on both of the brothers' shoulders while he mockingly choked out the words, "I love a happy ending." It was an intended double entendre. However, he truly wanted to believe there could be a happy ending, especially within The Brotherhood. Mac wanted them to have other lives, and Caleb agreed that was the way of the future.
Dean smirked. "Don't we all?"
Caleb looked back at Mr. and Mrs. Francis. They didn't have their happy ending just yet, but if he had anything to say about it, they would in about an hour.
Once they were back at the house, there was a lot to prepare. They set five chairs around the dining room table. The reception was going to be held outside, so they would have limited privacy. Dean made a thick line of salt. He also had primed the rock salt rifle. He would be the only one able to react. Caleb and Sam didn't know how deep of a trance they would need to be in to conjure the widow.
While he and Sam went over their game plan again, Dean was relegated to manual labor outside, but it was done with pride as Dean did everything with his hands, whether it was working on the car or creating an EMF detector.
As Sam had said, Dean was unsure of psychic abilities, just has his father had been. Caleb could understand that, especially with how he had been with the amulet. Then there was Sam, whose own bouts with his abilities had saved Dean, but also scared him. It was all demon-linked in the end, and that was hard for even someone as magnanimous as Deuce to reconcile.
"What if we connect with something we can't handle?" Sam said, flipping a page he had printed out.
"Then your brother will. He's our insurance policy. It's not like we won't recognize it. Remember what I said about our link?" When Dean had been missing and Caleb involved the amulet in their crazy plan, Sam was left being the one to make sure Caleb didn't release another evil on the world.
"Yeah. This just feels wrong — and not just because Duran Hughes used to do them."
"But because Jim didn't approve." Hughes had been after his own fame and fortune, going against The Brotherhood. He had gotten what he deserved. Human kills were always regretted, but he had been a traitor. Jim was surprised at the death; he hadn't liked Duran, but he was still part of The Brotherhood up until he had hurt Sam, then Dean. Then the only thing that mattered to the pastor was to see his core unit unharmed. "Yeah, I know, kid."
"But Dean's the new Guardian, and it is the best idea we got."
"Yeah, but don't get used to them." The temptation would be too great to do more séances — his parents, Sam's parents, Sam's girlfriend, Pastor Jim. "I don't think we're going to be talking to the dead on a weekly basis."
"You two ready, 'cause they're here," Dean interrupted, the door slamming behind him while he wiped his hands on his jeans.
The front door opened, Gwendolyn and her husband came in laughing with her hand held near his mouth. "We came straight from the aisle. Neal drove us," Mr. Francis explained.
"Neal's gonna be here?" Dean's face lit up.
"Deuce's man crush," Caleb explained Dean's reaction toward the mechanic to Sam.
Dean frowned. "Shut up." He then tightened the curtains in the room to limit the light as much as possible.
"We should get started," Sam stated, unwilling to put up with any more of the bantering. He gestured to the chairs for the bride and groom. "Caleb and I will bring your mother within this room. All of you need to think of her. Happy memories are best."
"What do you want me to think about?" Dean asked as he repositioned the rifle.
Caleb winked at him. "You just sit there and look pretty." He cleared his throat. The room was protected so that once the widow was called forth, she couldn't leave the room. They held hands, forming an awkward circle. Caleb connected with Dean on one side and Mr. Francis's clammy hand on the other. Caleb ignored the nervousness and let the silence envelop him. He then sought his connection to Sam. They had to take precautions to exclude evil entities.
Caleb felt the moment of recognition with Sam, and they sought out Mr. Francis, whose connection to his mother was the strongest. They were using his feelings to call forth his mother. The darkness of the room heightened their senses, making the room and their minds limitless. It was from this feeling they connected with the widow. Sam flinched back, and the curtains billowed. Caleb opened his eyes. "She's in the room," he announced to the others, but mentally again connected with Sam. 'Be alert.'
"Talk to her," Sam prodded, still holding hands but gesturing to Mr. Francis with his neck.
He lifted Gwendolyn's hand. "Mother, I want you to meet my new wife." He again brought his hand to his lips.
The screeching started immediately, emanating from above their heads. They looked up; Caleb saw Dean's hands already wrapped around the rifle, ready to pounce. While they were looking up, the table started to levitate, then moved back and forth, hitting them. Dean shot the rock salt into the air.
"Hey, be nice," Dean yelled, then patrolled the perimeter with the rifle.
"Keep talking." Caleb knocked on the settled table to focus all of their attentions.
"Gwendolyn is a good woman. She makes me happy. That's what you want for your son, I would hope."
Gwendolyn stood up and opened her arms. "I'll take good care of him."
The sconces exploded in succession, showering them with glass. Dean dove across the table to bring Gwendolyn down. They all ducked under the table, which really wasn't going to provide them much protection for long.
"This is going well." Caleb unlatched the ankle holster. He didn't want a conspicuous rifle, but at least having a knife and gun would make him feel better.
"Can you send her back?" Dean said after shooting another spray of rock salt.
Caleb shook his head. "A séance is a one way trip. We can't just pull out the phone cord and end the call."
The table lifted up, then crashed down repeatedly. The chairs flew in the air in a circle, going no further than the salt line. They had removed anything else that had potential to hurt them, so the widow was using what was available.
Gwendolyn was wrapped around her husband. "Do something!"
He looked at her, squared his shoulders, and removed her hands as he stood. The maelstrom ceased for a moment. "You either accept this or we're going to move out of the house, and we'll let them burn it down."
Caleb was impressed; however, the threat may have been too much for the widow.
"Move!" Caleb heard Dean yell as they were pummeled by the bits of the broken dinette. "Go out the front door! Now! I'll cover!"
He saw the circle of salt was still standing, but didn't know for how long. The spirit was causing turbulence in the two hundred square foot room. Caleb stood his ground until Sam pushed him. "Help me with them." He pushed Mr. Francis into his arms. They stumbled out of the dining room into the main part of the house. Caleb sensed Dean was right behind them.
"Keep going!" Dean ordered, having left the shelter of the table and firing in the general direction of the spirit.
They were at the door; Caleb threw it open and pushed Mr. Francis out. He turned to go help Dean, but was caught up with Sam struggling to make it with Gwendolyn. He eyed a picture on the wall, yanked if off, and used it as a shield to protect Gwendolyn from the debris. With heavy breath they made it out, only to have the door slam shut with Dean trapped inside.