Disclaimer: Since I managed to forget this part in the prologue, I'll go ahead and shock everyone by saying that I do not own Dean (damn it!) or Sam or anything having to do with Supernatural. I write this as purely a means of entertainment.
Author's Note: Thanks to both of you who reviewed! It really is highly appreciated. I hope you'll continue to read and let me know what you think. If I slip up somewhere, be sure to point it out to me. Anyways, on to the story!
Chapter One: Checking Things Out
With a loud grumble from the engine and a white puff of exhaust fumes, the '67 Chevrolet Impala screeched to a halt in front of the small town diner, Metallica blasting from the speakers. The turn of the key in the ignition killed the music along with the engine as the passenger and driver's side doors opened simultaneously. Dean Winchester twirled his keys around his the tip of his middle finger twice as he climbed out of the car. He licked his lips and scanned the buildings on the other side of the street, mentally taking note of each one as he stuffed the keys into the pocket of his well worn jeans. The hinges of the passenger door squeaked in protest of his brother, Sam, bumped it shut with his knee; all the while juggling a pad of paper and pen, an open newspaper, and the leather shoulder bag containing his laptop computer. He came around the front of the car, casting a single glance at the parking meter which Dean had blatantly ignored before going through the door that his brother was holding open for him.
Sam ignored several empty tables at the front of the diner, opting instead for a small booth in the far back corner that was somewhat secluded from the rest of the restaurant's customers. He spread his materials out across the tabletop and sat down. Dean slid into the seat across from him, pulling their father's journal out from the confines of his leather jacket and slapping it down on the table as well.
"So, what are we here for again?" Dean asked, leaning back casually and resting his arm over the back of the booth.
"Uh," Sam said, fumbling through the newspaper until he found the half page article that was circled in red marker, "Three teens disappeared a couple of weeks ago."
"Okay." Dean said, spreading one hand in a gesture for him to go on.
Sam grabbed the journal and flipped through it, "Remember I told you dad kept tabs on how many people disappeared from different counties. Well, this one has a pretty high rate, Clearwater in particular. Most of them ranging between the ages of fourteen and sixteen."
Dean leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table, "Any other pattern besides age?"
"Not that I know of…" Sam replied, his eyes searching the journal, "but that doesn't necessarily mean that it's not there."
"Hi." A light voice broke into their conversation, drawing the brothers' attention.
They looked up at the young waitress. She smiled brightly down at them showing off a perfect row of straight white teeth. She was in her early twenties and pretty with a petite athletic build, full lips, a slightly upturned nose, and big blue eyes. She had the kind of white blonde hair that most girls outgrew at the age of five that hung down just past her shoulders. A short white apron was tied around her slender waist and she held a notepad in one hand and a pen poised to write in the other.
"How you boys doin'?" she asked.
"Just fine." Sam said on top of a polite smile.
Dean's gaze traveled the length of her, unable to avoid pausing to admire the expanse of skin revealed by the low cut neckline of her tight fitting maroon long sleeved shirt, before finally coming to rest on her eyes. He cocked one side of his pretty mouth upwards in a smirk.
"Can I get you something to drink?" she offered, giving him a sideways look.
"Yeah, can I get a beer?" Dean responded.
"Uh, we don't start serving alcohol 'til after five." She said offering an apologetic smile.
Dean raised his eyebrows incredulously and opened his mouth to respond, but Sam cut him off, "That's fine. We'll just take a couple of cokes. Thanks."
"All right." She chirped. Her eyes lingered on the two of them for a just a beat too long before she walked away from the table to get their drinks.
"No alcohol before five, what the hell…" Dean muttered under his breath.
"I bet," Sam said, ignoring his brother's whining and flipping open his computer, "if we do some digging, we'll be able to find some link between the victims other than their age."
"Just explain to me again why you think that this is our kind of deal as opposed to a simple kidnapping or good old fashioned teen angst runaway. I hear that's coming back, you know." Dean said.
"Statistics. Location." Sam rattled off, "Gut instinct."
Dean smiled at the last one. "Good enough for me."
The blonde waitress reappeared and set down two tall hard plastic glasses of soda, pulling a couple of straws from the pocket of her apron and dropping them onto the table as well. She stood with her hands on her hips staring down at them for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face. Then, she quickly plastered on another smile, "You boys know what you want?"
"I think we're just gonna have some cheeseburgers and fries." Dean answered, accompanied by a nod from Sam who had yet to look up from his computer screen.
"Okay," the waitress said, scribbling on her notepad, "Anything else?"
They each shook their head 'no' and the girl walked away again, casting several glances over her shoulder at them as she went. Dean watched her walk away, mentally taking note of the snug fit of her jeans before turning his full attention back to Sam.
"Well, so far, the three that disappeared most recently were all friends. They all attended the same high school. They were last seen by Marisole Parks, one of the victims' mother." Sam said.
"Did she say where they were going?"
"It doesn't say in the paper…but, that doesn't mean anything." Sam said, looking up from the computer screen finally.
"All right." Dean nodded thoughtfully, "Different focus. What do we know about the immediate area?"
"Well," Sam started, punching a few keys and looking once again to the screen, "there's really not much to go on until we know the details of the incident. I mean, there's a pretty large area of forest around here so we could be looking at a black dog. Any number of creatures, really."
"As long as it's not another wendigo." Dean interrupted.
"We have no idea what these kids were up to. They could be part of some cult summoning up the dead or they could have been snatched up by a werewolf. We just don't know." Sam continued.
"Werewolf?" Dean said, his eyes darting upward as if he were trying to look into his own mind, "Oh, God. It is the full moon! How could I forget about that? We need to start keeping some silver bullets on us just in case we happen to come across one. You never know where those sons of bitches are gonna pop up."
"I was being glib. It's not a werewolf." Sam stated matter-o-factly.
"How do you figure?"
"The other missing case files, the disappearances don't always coincide with the right lunar cycle."
"Okay." Dean conceded, "Still, better safe than sorry, one of us should keep some silver bullets on us at all times."
"All right." Sam nodded, clicking a few more buttons on the computer, "There is something here about this supposedly being home to a haunted mansion."
"Haunted mansion? Isn't that a ride at Disney World?"
Sam chuckled, but didn't look away from what he was typing.
The waitress appeared again, carrying their food. She set a plate down in front of each of them and wiped her palms on her apron. "Everything look okay? Can I get you some more coke? Extra mustard?"
"It looks great. What, uh, I'm sorry, what did you say your name is?" Sam asked, closing his laptop.
"I didn't." She smiled, "But, it's Dani."
"Dani. Hi. I'm Sam."
"Hi." Dani said, her eyes darting back and forth between the two men.
"Uh, are you from here?" Sam went on.
"No, actually." Dani answered with a smirk, "I just moved here a couple of months ago."
"Oh, okay." He said disappointed, turning to his burger.
"I know my way around pretty well, though. So if you need directions or something like that…"
"No, no. That's okay. Thanks." Sam said.
"All right." She said, raising one eyebrow skeptically. She cast a lingering look at Dean before starting to walk away from their table, "Just let me know if you need anything else."
"Okay, let's eat. Then, we'll see what we can find out about this haunted house." Dean said before popping a French fry into his mouth.
Halfway through his meal, Dean's eyes inadvertently caught sight of the pretty little blonde waitress walking towards a table she had just cleared off, dishrag in hand. He saw the medium built guy about his age wearing dirty work pants and a grungy long sleeved tee shirt, his jet black hair hanging in his eyes just as he came charging up behind her and grabbed her by the arm. He rubbed his hands together, dusting the crumbs off as his leg muscles tensed, preparing to launch his body to the girl's defense should the need arise. Sam noticed his brother's distraction and peered over his shoulder to see what had caught his attention. Just like that, both boys were readying themselves should something happen. Neither of them had ever been able to resist a damsel in distress.
"Let me go, Eddie." Dani said, her voice dripping with venom.
"Not until you talk to me, damn it." Eddie spat.
"I am at work! And besides, I've said everything I needed to say."
"Well, I haven't!"
Dani jerked her elbow out of his grasp and bodily shoved him away from her. "Leave me alone! Get out of here!"
Dean and Sam watched Eddie stumble back a few steps and with a final threatening glare at the young waitress, he turned around and stormed out of the diner. Dani turned with her profile to the brothers and they watched her wipe a tear from her cheek and let out a deep breath as she tried to collect herself.
"Tough cookie." Dean said.
Sam turned back around in his chair, "No kidding."
Dani licked her lips, composed herself, and strolled over to their table, plastering a tight smile on her face. "Everything all right over here?" she asked, her voice just as bright as it had been when she had first approached them. They had to give her credit for one thing; she was pretty damn good at hiding her emotions.
"We're good." Sam replied with a tender look.
"How 'bout you?" Dean asked, one eyebrow cocked.
The question seemed to startle her and she cast him a sharp look. "I'm fine." She said, but her voice caught the slightest bit at the back of her throat, "exes, you know. Can I get you guys anything else?"
"Nah," Sam smiled, "just the check. Thanks, Dani."
She pulled a handwritten tab out of her apron pocket and set it on the edge of the table, giving them another smile; though it didn't reach her eyes. After polishing off what was left of their burgers, the boys gathered up their stuff and headed for the front counter to pay. Dean smirked as Dani came trotting up to the register.
"Was everything okay?" she asked, more out of habit than anything else. Hell, she had pretty much already asked them about five times if their food had been 'okay'.
"Yeah. It was great." Dean said, pulling a credit card for one Herbert Thurston from his wallet and holding it out to her.
The blonde reached for the card, the tips of her fingers brushing against his. Her bright blue eyes darted up to meet his at the sudden contact, a haunted look glazing over them and her smile went suddenly slack. Dean's eyebrows drew together as he studied her unexpected change in demeanor at the same time Sam took a step closer as well. Dani slowly retracted the card from his hand and blinked twice, the happy go lucky expression returning to her face. Without another word, she swiped the card and handed it back to him, grinning as though the off moment had never happened.
Still shaking off the weird feeling from the look that the pretty waitress had given him, Dean left the diner at a fast paced walk. He ran a hand back through his hair and looked over his shoulder at Sam, "What say we head over to that one girl's house, Sammy? What was her name? Marisole?"
"Maricole Parks." Sam supplied.
"Let's find out where those kids were headed."
A ten minute drive later, they came to a stop in front of a white two story house in the middle of a friendly little suburb. The black Impala didn't exactly blend in with the barrage of four door sedans that seemed to reside in every other one of the driveways of the neighborhood. Dean groaned as he took in his surroundings while he and Sam climbed the porch steps to the front door of the house. This was his idea of hell. The two of them stood there, shifting their weight from leg to leg in attempt to keep warm as Sam rang the doorbell.
It took a moment before they heard the locks on the inside of the door unlocking and it cracked inward a little. A pair of eyes peered out at them from the slit between the door and the frame.
"Yes?" a weak voice came from behind the crack.
"Mrs. Parks?" Dean asked, narrowing his eyes and leaning forward slightly trying to get a better look at the person.
"Yes." Came the reply.
"Mrs. Parks, I'm special agent Brock and this is my partner agent Hudson. We'd like to talk to you for a minute if it's not too much trouble." He said.
The door opened a little further to reveal a woman of slight build standing there in a tee shirt, sweat pants, and a long white bathrobe. Her dark hair was laced with gray, there were worry lines etched deep in her face, and her eyes were red and puffy as though she hadn't slept in a few days. She stepped aside and gestured for them to come in, shutting the door behind them once they had.
"I'm sorry if I seem a little weary." She said, walking past them into a comfortable looking living room and sitting down on a large dark red sofa, "I feel like I've been doing nothing but answering questions for the past two weeks."
"We know you've been through a lot, Ma'am." Sam said.
"You know the worst part?" Marisole went on, lighting a cigarette and taking a long pull of it, "Nobody will tell me anything. I don't know if they have any leads, any suspects, anything. It's killing me."
"I can't imagine what you must be feeling right now." Sam tacked on, his tone comforting and sympathetic.
"I don't suppose you can tell me anything." She said, looking up at them both hopefully.
"We're really just now familiarizing ourselves with the case." Dean explained, "We've just arrived on the scene."
"I see."
Sam thought that he could actually see the last of her hope draining from her body and his heart ached for her. The poor woman had lost her daughter, and she didn't even know what had happened to her. There was no way to grieve or find closure when you didn't know whether or not your child was still out there somewhere just waiting for you to come and find them.
"Can you tell us the last time you say…" Dean stammered, looking to Sam for help, who in turn pointed to a note that he had made, "Tricia? Can you tell us when you last saw Tricia?"
"I've already been over this a dozen times." Marisole said, flicking the ashes off the end of her cigarette as her face tightened. She looked like she might very well burst into tears at any moment.
"We know, Mrs. Parks." Sam said, "And we're sorry to drag you through it again, but, it helps to hear it from you rather than to read it in come case file."
She nodded, licking her lips and taking a shaky breath, "It was two Fridays ago at about five p.m. It had just started to get dark outside. It gets dark so early in the winter…" her voice trailed slightly as her mind wandered.
"Do you know where she was going?" Dean asked, bringing her back.
"Oh, yes." She said, "It's so silly. She was going to the old Wyatt house."
"The Wyatt house?" Dean asked, sharing a knowing look with his brother.
"Yes. It's this creepy old mansion on the edge of town. I told her it was dangerous, that place is practically falling apart. But, it's a standing tradition." She gave a bitter laugh, "I did it myself when I was sixteen."
"Did what?" Sam asked.
"Went and spent a few hours there at night. The legend is that the place is haunted by old man Wyatt, so when the kids get to high school, they go and spend an hour or two there after dark. It's kind of an initiation type of thing. I told this to the local police because I was scared that maybe she had fallen through the floor or something, but they searched that house high and low and couldn't find any trace of her or the others."
Sam nodded his head, "Well, thank you for your time, Mrs. Parks. We'll be in touch as soon as we know anything. We can see ourselves out."
"Looks like it's the mansion, after all." Dean said as Sam closed the door, "We should see what we can learn about this guy Wyatt."
"Yeah," Sam agreed, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, "Let's swing by the public library and see what we can dig up."
After nearly two hours of reading old newspapers and digging through local history anthologies, the boys didn't know anything more than that the chairs in the library were absolute hell on your back. Dean stretched his arms up over his head and arched his back, grunting when he heard and felt a satisfying crack. "Is it me or is this Thatcher Wyatt guy as squeaky clean as he seems?" he hissed.
Sam pulled the pen that he had been chewing on from his lips, "He had a wife and three daughters and died of old age. He doesn't fit the profile for an angry spirit."
"He didn't even die in that house." Dean added, "It says here that he died in 1906 at his house in the English countryside."
"What about his wife?"
"Same."
"His daughters?" Sam speculated.
"That's the only weird thing I've found so far."
"What?"
"I can't find anything about them. I mean, I found copies of their birth certificates, but that's it. No death certificates, no marriage records, no nothing."
"Yeah, ditto. Elizabeth, Katherine, and Lilian. Other than that, I've got nil."
"Okay," Dean said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his large hands over his face, "So, we assume that it's the little brats that are still running around reeking havoc on the poor town folk."
"Works for me." Sam resigned, "What else do we have to go on?"
"Let's go play."
No sooner had the words left Dean's mouth than the boys had sprang to their feet and were hustling out of the library, reveling in the feeling of having blood circulating through their legs once again. With Highway to Hell blaring from the speakers, Dean guided the Impala along the broken pavement of a single lane road that had been longtime neglected by the county. They reached the Wyatt mansion and slowed to a crawl as they passed it, both of them craning their necks to take in the sight. Falling apart was a drastic understatement. The old two story mansion was more or less warped into a crooked shape.
"This looks like fun." Dean said dryly.
He pulled the car off the road and out of sight to anyone who might happen to pass by, though that actually occurring seemed highly unlikely. They popped the trunk and checked their weapons as Dean formulated a strategy.
"All right," he said, "we'll sweep the interior and maybe catch a glimpse of this bad boy…or girl…then we'll search the outside grounds to see if we can't find a grave or two and torch it."
"Or them." Sam added.
"Semantics, college boy."
Sam nodded with a light laugh rolling deep from inside his throat as he cocked his shotgun. Dean did the same and they both reached up and slammed the trunk closed. Their eyes alert and darting back and forth, the Winchester brothers trudged toward the house. They hopped the fence and made their way up the porch. One rotted step broke under Sam's foot and he fell through, stumbling backwards. Dean spun and quickly caught him by the front of his shirt. He righted him on his feet and they both took the remaining steps as quickly as possible.
Dean tapped the door with the toe of his boot and it swung inward with ease. Each holding their respective flashlight ahead of them, they flooded into the house, scanning the foyer in one fluid motion. Dean pulled the small EMF meter from his pocket and flipped it on, the tiny red lights at the top immediately blazing to life.
"Well, if that's any indicator…" he muttered.
"I take downstairs, you take upstairs?" Sam suggested.
"I say we flip a coin." Dean replied.
"What?"
"I don't wanna fall through the damn floor."
"I already fell through the stairs."
"See, you're used to it."
"Oh, fine!" Sam finally hissed, "I'll take the upstairs."
Dean chuckled as Sam slowly crept up the stairs to the second level, then resumed his search of the first floor, tucking the meter back into the pocket of his coat. He ducked beneath a door at the end of the hallway that was hanging diagonally off of its hinges and found himself in what had at one time been a kitchen. He took in the gritty disarray of the room until his gaze landed on a dark narrow doorway. He wanted to see inside of that doorway. No. He needed to see through that doorway. He couldn't explain it; it was almost like he was being drawn to it. He crossed over to it, holding his flashlight out in front of him as far as he could, trying to peer through the door without having to get too close. He paused when he heard a faint shuffling behind him.
With a calming breath, he spun around and took aim with his shotgun.
A tiny squeak escaped her throat as Dani threw her hands up and froze where she stood. "Hi." She said, her voice trembling.
"What the hell?" Dean growled, lowering his gun.
"Dani," she said, pointing to herself, "Remember me?"
"Yeah, I remember you. What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Funny you should ask…"Dani started, lowering her hands and taking a step toward him.
"You shouldn't be here." Dean hissed.
"Trust me, honey, I don't want to be here."
"No, you know what? I don't care. Whatever dare it is that you're trying to do, forget it and get out of here." Dean said, his eyes boring into hers.
Dani looked down and her brow furrowed for an instant, before her gaze shot back up and locked with his. "That's a great idea, I think. But you know an even better one?" she reached out and twisted her hands into the soft leather of his worn in coat, jerking him closer to her, "You come with me."
"Come with you?" Dean repeated, his own brows drawing together in confusion.
"Yeah, uh-huh." Her eyes once again began searching the room, "Your brother, too. Where is he?"
"Wait, how did you know he was my…" he stopped talking when he heard another faint sound. His flashlight flickered on and off, sending another surge of adrenaline coursing through his body.
Dani's eyes were rapidly darting from side to side like she was reading something in her mind. Her hands slowly relinquished their grip on his jacket. Dean spotted it appearing and on reflex swung his shotgun up, his instinct first and foremost to protect the girl who had stumbled into his care. At the same time he was lifting his gun, Dani reached around behind her and dropped down, twisting her body so that her back was to Dean. Their shots rand out at the same time and the apparition disappeared before it had fully formed.
Dean looked down and saw the small handgun that the waitress held in her hand. With a growl, he reached down and jerked it out of her hand, tossing it aside. As soon as the weapon left her hand, Dani swung around and swept his feet out from under him with her outstretched leg. He hit the ground and she was instantly on top of him, straddling his narrow hips. She punched him in the jaw with a tiny balled up fist and reared back to do it again, but Dean blocked the blow with his forearm.
"What the hell is the matter with you, woman?" he bellowed from beneath her. Sometimes he wished he weren't so adamantly opposed to giving members of the fairer sex a nice smack in the mouth.
On the sound of thundering footsteps, Sam came charging into the room, his shotgun poised and ready to fire. When he spotted Dean, he lowered his gun and stood there in a kind of shock for a moment. He thought he had seen damn near everything. Dean grabbed Dani by her hips and flipped her so that she was the one on the flat of her back and he was on his knees between her legs, fighting to pin her arms down as she continued to swat at him.
Sam snapped out of his daze and raised his gun again, cocking it to get the others' attention. They both stopped struggling and looked over at him. Dean smiled and pushed himself to his feet while Dani stayed exactly where she was.
"Hiya, Sammy." Dean smirked, walking over to the handgun that he had stripped from Dani.
"You wanna tell me what's going on?" Sam asked, keeping his gun trained on the young girl.
"Trying to figure that one out myself." Dean said, flipping open the chamber of Dani's gun, "Ask her."
"Look, I just came to find you two…" Dani started.
"Why?" Sam asked, "And, how did you even know we would be here?"
"Holy shit." Dean gasped.
"What is it?" Sam enquired.
"Her gun…" Dean stuttered, his eyes snapping up to look into Dani's again, "it's loaded with rock salt."
Author's Note: Okay, I don't want to give anything away but at the same time I don't want any misconceptions, so I'm going to go ahead and tell you that Dani is not another ghost hunter. I'll get into who she is in the next chapter, but I just wanted to clarify that. Well, that's it for now. Please, please review and let me know what you think!