PART 2
The two walked back to the cottage. "There you go Dean, was that so bad?"
"Weird...but not bad. So the place is haunted… Huh. You'd think that Ada would be better off with her lover and daughter, though—instead of hanging around here. Can't burn her bones though, if she's somewhere in the water…" Just as Dean finished speaking, the brown cat suddenly appeared underfoot. In his startled attempt to keep from crushing her he danced sideways, lost his balance and sprawled face first into the sandy path. Sam shot a hand out but missed him. Dean got up, swore and dusted himself off. That hurt… "Did you see that? The cat-that-doesn't-exist just tried to kill me!" His right knee still rebelled at any lateral movement and he favoured it the rest of the way home.
Seeing the glower and the limp, Sam kept his snickering almost silent. "The cousins don't want Ada-the-Ghost uprooted anyway, Dean. Just leave it alone."
"Mmm." It went against every fiber of Dean's being to leave it alone. Ghosts were ghosts, and it was in everyone's best interest to purge them. But then again, he would have said the same of all vampires, until he met the nest that had vowed to take no human blood. Freaking grey areas. They always screwed him up. Black and white was so much simpler. He changed the subject. "We're going out tonight, Sammy, so make yourself pretty. No offense, but I wanna wake up in the morning beside somebody who doesn't have to shave off the beard first thing."
"So you're finally going after a better class of women?" Sam quipped.
"Yeah, laugh it up, geek. ...And you know, you are allowed to have some naughty fun too, Sam. Chicks have a herd instinct, they always travel in pairs. If you'd loosen the bowtie and stick around for once while I work my magic, you might actually get to learn why boys like girls."
"Oooo, Please, enlighten me, Swami Dean. Don't trip over your ego next. I think I can handle my own love life, thanks anyway. "
"See—there's a problem right there. It's not a love life, it's a just a fun night. Semantics are screwing you up. You're thinking too long term there. You don't need to care how beautiful her mind is, just if she's got some great—"
"Yeah, I get it, Dean." Sam laughed. "But seriously dude, your ego is getting scary. Maybe we should lay some cash on who gets , uh—invited—first."
"You're on, Brother Samuel." he grinned.
Sam wasn't done goading. "Better bring your 'A' game, Dean. You don't have your car handy to impress the women. I mean, really, do you have any other tools? You could be in trouble here."
"Sam, Sam, Sam…." he shook his head, patronizingly. He swept his hands over himself like a Price-Is-Right girl offering Showcase Number 2.. "This is the only tool I need."
Sam snorted. "Well you are the biggest tool I know."
Dean rolled his eyes. "How 'bout we end this conversation before it gets weird."
"Too late." Sam said as he hopped up the steps to the door and unlocked it. "So...what do you think of the cousins?"
" Interesting pair. Sally looks like she's in her forties instead of her sixties. Her art was sort of different. I'm used to arty stuff looking like it does in the real world, so at first I didn't get it, but the more I thought about it, it kinda grew on me. Emily is pretty freaky. If no one told me she was blind I might not have known, she sure figures her way around the place. That aura thing is pretty out-there. Probably into crystals and all that crap too..."
"Mmm. Sally's actually world renowned for her work. I looked her up on google, she's got paintings in major galleries all over the place. Hard to believe she's related to Bobby. So you don't buy Emily's seeing-auras thing?"
"I don't know. Kinda hard to verify, though. But if it makes her happy..."
Sam let it drop. "Figure out where we're going, Dean. I'm gonna shower."
Dean already had a place in mind. Actually it was a strip of bars in Boca Raton. After mocking each other's attire, they headed out. Dean was in particularly good spirits. He was gonna get laid, and make a hundred bucks off Sam in the process. Good work if you can get it.
Sometimes things don't go according to plan. Not that he was complaining in general, they both had a pretty good night out. It was refreshing to be around lots of party-minded people, loud music and bar service. But damn! Dean was so sure he'd be the one gloating. He met a great looking girl right off, brunette, green eyes and a great body. She was obviously into him, she laughed at all his jokes, leaned close to talk, touched his arm, his thigh. He figured his evening was set. He looked over at Sam, seated at the bar and oblivious to the three girls who were watching him, giggling and prodding each other to go speak to him. Dean figured the bet was won hands down.
He brought her over to meet Sam, relishing the thought of him having to concede defeat. He did the necessary intros and that's where the plan veered off the rails. The moment she saw him, she was starry-eyed for Sam. She did all the same things to him—hanging on his every word, touching his arm, laughing musically. She was like a sleek cat stroking itself against Sam's leg. She didn't give Dean another look. And Sam just grinned at him. Dean tried several times to break into their conversation, but they just looked at him, distracted, slightly annoyed by this buzzing insect that insisted on pestering them.
Finally he gave up, and sat back, perplexed and irritated, downing his beer. This sort of thing didn't happen to Dean Winchester. He was sure he had this chick, but along comes the geek, and he sweeps her off her feet and leaves him stammering and looking like a cold leftover. He got another beer, and glanced over as she whispered something to Sam and he blushed, and nodded. Sam met his gaze and grinned a cheshire cat grin—there were practically canary feathers sticking out between his teeth.
-Great—he growled to himself. And now I just lost a hundred bucks. Dean pasted on a smile, it was a supreme effort, as Sam wandered over with her on his arm and said they'd be taking a stroll down the beach for a few hours.
"Have fun, kiddies." he said. Sam quietly asked him if it was cool and he shrugged. "Hey, you win. Go for it, Sammy."
And even more oddly, Dean struck out for the rest of the night. He would have had more luck if he had a ball of tape on his glasses and a festering sore on his lip. He was sure he was cursed, and he thought, thanks a lot, Ada. But at least he was on his game at the pool table. After giving up on the romance for the evening he found some willing sacrifices and made a cool three hundred bucks on the night. It took some of the sting out of losing to Sam. And he didn't stay bitter, he was glad his little brother was having some fun. If he didn't get his spring sprung every now and then, his giant head was gonna pop off..
As Dean collected from yet another disgruntled loser, Sam wandered back in, alone.
"That was quick, even for you." Dean joked. He got a couple more beers and they sat down. "Soooo...did you have a good time?"
Sam gave him a wry look. "Guess I should have known your second-hand prospects would turn out weird. We were walking along the sand, and all of a sudden she rubs her cheek against mine, laughs, says I should warn you to behave yourself, and then goodbye. And she walks away, still laughing. Strangest ending to a date I've ever had."
"Hmm…" That was strange. Why the warning for him-? He forked over the hundred bucks. "Not a total loss for us, anyway. You won the bet—which will haunt me for weeks, by the way, but at least I made some green at pool. Are we done for the night? It's almost closing time anyway."
Sam nodded and they headed back to the van.
Back on the highway, they made plans for the following day, which centred around white sand and surf and not much else.
Suddenly Sam became aware of a soft sound. It was unmistakable, the rumbling of a happy cat, emanating from behind. He looked at Dean quizzically and they both turned their heads. The little brown cat sat on the back seat, apparently having hitched a ride when they'd left the cottage. She stared back at them. then closed her green eyes and curled up, purring smugly.
"What the hell? Dean said. "Every time I turn around this stupid cat is there!"
Sam shook his head and laughed. "Guess you get to bring home a female tonight after all."
"Go me." he grouched.
When they got to the cottage, Dean opened his door and the cat bounded out and disappeared.
"Better sing Ada her song, Dean. Your luck kind of sucks lately…" Sam said as he unlocked the door.
Dean snorted. "Yeah, I don't think so. Sing away, Sammy."
Sam hummed the tune as he walked in. Dean stumbled over the stoop and whacked his elbow on the door frame. When he was done cursing he pointed at his snickering brother. "You just shut up! I'm going to bed, before I brain myself tripping on some shadow! Christ, It's like I've got some cosmic kick-me sign on my back!"
Dean fared no better the next day.
Sam hid his long pants and boots and wouldn't give in, so he was forced to wear the cut off's Sam snipped from one of his torn jeans. He refused to wear the flip flops Sam had picked up for him, and while barefoot he stepped on a piece of glass. He got a brutal sunburn...lost his sunglasses. And a sudden gust blew sand all over his lunch so he was chewing grit for the rest of the day. He fumed while Sam had gone off and joined a beach volleyball game. Having never played a team sport in his life, Dean had been too embarrassed to try.
And wrapping up a truly miserable outing, he was stung by a wasp that flew in to the car as they prepared to leave. All in all, the day sucked out loud, and he was glad to be back in the Impala and heading home.
Once again on the porch, Sam advised that he sing Ada her song, and once again, Dean scoffed. He sat down heavily on a chair, as Sam handed him a drink.
"You don't do the Florida thing too well, do you?" he teased.
"Apparently not." he grunted. He was secretly glad that Sam had forced him to wear the makeshift shorts, he would have looked like an idiot wearing his usual choice of clothes.
"Well, relax, Dean. I'll barbeque you up something good."
As Sam fussed over dinner, Dean worked hard at getting tanked. By the time the meal was finished he wore a loose smile and the afternoon was nearly forgotten. He sat on his chair, licking the remaining BBQ sauce off his fingers.
"Good job, Sammy. You're hired." He settled back and leaned his head against the wall. "So you think I pissed Ada off, eh? See, I told you there's no such thing as a harmless ghost. We should look through the journal to see if there's any other way besides salt & burn. This bitch is gonna do me in…"
He laughed, only joking. But Ada must have felt threatened by his words, or his simple streak of lousy luck was still continuing, because the shelf of books affixed to the wall over his head suddenly let loose at one end, showering him with a dozen dusty hard covers. He was lucky the shelf stayed attached to the wall or he'd have been brained by the oak plank.
"Sonofabitch!" he yelped.
Sam couldn't help but laugh at him. "Sing the damn song already, Dean! I don't want to be standing near you when the next accident happens."
Dean brushed the cobwebs out of his hair. He was sufficiently drunk enough now to acquiesce. "Fine! Fine, I give up, Ada. I was only joking, I promise I won't bother you any more. Sam, gimme one of the million freaking copies of the damned thing around here—"
Sam took one of the wall and hummed accompaniment as Dean belted out the words. Annoyed, the orange cat, ears turned back in disapproval, stalked off the steps and melted into the grass. But the brown cat, who had been a no show earlier, seemed drawn to the sound. She appeared amongst the flowers at the verandah's edge, and shyly sat a few yards away, staring at them with her unusually bright green eyes.
"There, happy now? " Dean asked of the thin air. He and Sam dissolved into laughter and they fetched some more beer. They sang it a few more times for good measure and the simple fun of it. The boisterous sounds of the singing reached all the way to the studio, and to Emily's sensitive ears. She smiled to herself. It sometimes took a little...persuasion, but Ada always got her way.
By midnight they were officially looped enough that it was advisable to hit the sack. Dean took the scenic route to the can and Sam fell asleep with one sandal on. They both slept like happy babies. Unfortunately, for Sam, it didn't last. He began to toss and turn, distressed by unseen forces in his dream. He woke up in a sweat, filled with a sense of unease, a vague dread. He was feeling a head-ache beginning. Sighing, he got up and nabbed some aspirin and water, peeked in on Dean, who was still snoring happily, and headed back to bed, hoping to stave off his inevitable hang-over.
When morning came, he still felt uneasy. He didn't know why, there was no specific threat looming, but he just felt sort of wary, and out of sorts.. He vowed to take it easy on the beer today.
Dean awoke much later, fully rested and looking forward to the day. "Morning Sam. Man, you look like shit. Are we a little hung-over ?" he pestered.
Sam was drinking a coffee and he pointed towards the still half-filled pot. "I guess. Bit of a head ache, had bad dreams, I think. Can't remember what, but I woke up all screwed-up."
"Too bad...that sucks. Why don't you go crash for a while? We're not in a hurry to go anywhere. I'll just explore around here…"
Sam grunted his agreement. He took a few more aspirin and crawled back into bed.
Dean smiled and shook his head. Amateur. He thought he'd take the boat out again. He stepped out of the house and walked down the sandy path, stopping to look back at the cottage. He liked it, it had a cool old style, but the bad flaking paint ruined it. He'd picked at the loose flakes earlier, they came off easily. He wouldn't mind having a go at it, it was a big job but it would be really satisfying. Maybe he could trade his efforts for an extended stay. He changed directions and headed to the studio.
The cousins were on the patio having breakfast.
Sally waved as she saw him. "Dean, good morning! Emmy, we have a visitor." She offered him a chair and some fresh cut melon. "Are you enjoying your stay so far?"
He nodded. "Bit of a rough day yesterday, but I think I worked it out with Ada. " he laughed.
"Oh yes, I heard you singing. You have a lovely voice." Emily said.
Dean was embarrassed, and stammered an apology for being so loud, but Emily chuckled and assured him she enjoyed it. He got to his purpose, and asked why the cottage exterior hadn't been overhauled for some time. Sally explained that they couldn't get anyone to work on it because of its reputation. No painter would take the chance while at the top of a ladder that the resident spook might object to the colour or something. But Dean surprised them with his interest in working on it, and they were thrilled to trade for it. Emily had no idea how rough it had gotten, but it bothered Sally to no end. He wanted to get scraping as soon as possible, but they made him promise to spend an equal amount of time vacationing properly. Everyone was pleased with the exchange. As he rose to leave—Dean had to ask. "Uh...look, the brown cat—the one who doesn't exist.. C'mon, what's the deal there? She's showing up every time I turn around… I know you must have seen her."
He watched as Sally touched Emily, and Emily nodded.
Sally answered. "Dean, with your experiences, I guess we can be honest. We don't like to talk about all this, anyone else would think we were just batty old broads, and last thing we want is a bunch of nosy idiots poking around here. You see…..Ada really does inhabit the cottage, maybe you already know that… As far as we can tell, she's there by choice, happily—but she's also bound to the house. About ten years ago the brown cat showed up. We don't know where she came from. We're not sure how, but she seems to be a sort of...helper, to Ada. She can go anywhere, whereas Ada is limited. So Ada uses her to experience a wider world, to help her do things. We don't know what the cat is exactly. Emmy touches her and gets absolutely nothing, no more than if she were a rock or a stuffed toy or something. Paddy just treats her like another cat. But she doesn't eat, or drink, doesn't seem to need anything. And she can appear and vanish out of the blue. Sometimes we don't see her for weeks. Other times she's everywhere, going about her business of facilitating Ada…We had a bunch charlatans tell us nothing but nonsense about it, but there was one reputable medium who was bang-on about everything, and she filled in some of the blanks for us."
Dean was fascinated. As a hunter, he should be using the information to figure out how to eradicate the two spirits, or whatever the cat was, but there was a sweetness to this..it was poignant. And the cousins were so protective of them. But he still had to know. "You're sure Ada is benevolent then? And her little friend? She wouldn't do anything harmful if she felt threatened?"
Sally measured her words. "Ada is good, Dean. She is capable of mischief to force a point, but we have never seen any evidence of harmful intent. I wouldn't put anyone in that house if we thought otherwise. And as to your question, I'll ask the same of you; would you do something harmful if you were threatened? And if you have that potential, does that mean someone should rid the world of the potential danger that you represent?"
"Ok, point taken." he said, adding "This is a new one for me, never saw a spirit relationship like that before. And don't worry, I already promised her I'd leave her alone."
They were relieved. "Thank you Dean." Emily said, touching his arm. "She's my grandma, I'd miss her. And she does good things too. She...finds things—old, valuable items turn up when there are initiatives underway for children, or needy folks. Coins, from the sea, or jewelry, long lost and buried in the sand. The brown cat will appear with some little bundle gripped between her teeth, they've paid for more than a few charitable works. I'd certainly like to keep that going."
Dean thanked them for the cantaloupe and candour, and he headed back to the dock. The morning was so beautiful, sun sparkling off the water, a gentle breeze. Dean thought about just laying on the dock in the sun, but he got so fried yesterday it was probably best to stay out of the UV for a bit. He sat on the end and dangled his feet in the water, lazily pushing the tied boat around. Ada's song was stuck in his head, he sang the chorus under his breath absent-mindedly.
Will the circle be unbroken
By and by, lord, by and by
Theres a better home a-waiting
In the sky, lord, in the sky
A little noise caused him to turn around, and once again his feline stalker sat a few feet away, calmly watching him. "Hey, cat. " he said, extending his hand. She didn't move. "Relax. You can tell your boss I meant it, I won't try to smoke her. I promise."
She moved forward and allowed him to touch her. She felt like cool silk, her green eyes unwavering. There was nothing strange about her, except maybe that a dark furred animal that had spent the morning in the sun would probably be a lot warmer. If he had the EMF around it would probably be screaming. He ran his hand along her back. "Do you have a name?"
If she did, she didn't offer it. She meowed at him, and shifted her gaze over the water. He looked in the direction she did, there was nothing, and when he turned back to her she was gone. Weird. he thought. And I'm talking to a dead cat—that's normal. He figured it was time to check on hangover-boy.
Sam was up and feeling more normal when Dean returned. His earlier uneasiness had passed and he was ready to vacation again. They thought they'd try the beach again, after all it was Florida, it's all about the beach. Dean broke down and asked to borrow a pair of Sam's more appropriately light weight and colourful shorts, even reluctantly slipping on the stupid flipflops. Hey, when in Rome…
This time the day was perfect.
They had the ultimate Gidget–worthy day of surf, sun and sand. They could have filmed a Florida Tourism commercial. They swam, sunned, played volleyball and frisbee, met some really fun girls with really little bikinis...hung out at a great beach-side bar-went for some very satisfying sorties along the beach. Springs were sprung. All in all they considered the day seized. By the time they returned to Jezebel they were exhausted, burnt, happy and spent. It was everything Florida was supposed to be. Winding down on the porch with a couple of cold ones, they reflected on the day, and planned tomorrow's activities.
Dean was determined to see alligators. Sam made him promise not to try to wrestle any. The best venue for that seemed to be Everglades Park, which was a not too distant drive. There were many destinations within the park system, and they chose an area that had old established cypress swamps, creepy and perfect.
Sam really loved the porch, his favourite place to relax was that suspended swing, as long as Dean wasn't spinning it. They sat and absorbed the peace of the quiet starry night, listening to the night creatures call out to each other. Dean told Sam about the cat and Ada. Sam too had never seen a relationship such as this. It was intriguing. He had less interaction with the cat than Dean had so far. But he was aware of Ada's presence in an oblique way. He never felt alone within the cottage walls. And it wasn't an intrusion, but more of a comforting, welcoming warmth. Hard to believe there could be anything negative there. Dean told him of his agreement with the cousins, to repaint the debilitated exterior in return for an extended stay. Sam was enthusiastic, he would help as well. But Dean jealously guarded his ownership of that job, it was his idea and his alone to experience. Sam shrugged. Scraping paint or beach...tough choice.
He told Sam everything the cousins had relayed about Ada, her activities, her comings and goings as they knew them. Sam was really hoping to interact somehow, to have some experience with Ada when she did her good works. It added a whole new and uplifting dimension to the supernatural, so different from the self-absorbed anger and evil of most of their encounters.
But it was getting late. They were both so sun-baked that bed seemed a really welcome decision. Goodnights were slurred and they went to their rooms. Dean was unconscious immediately, and Sam followed suit.
But the dreams, the unfocused worries, plagued Sam again. Within a few hours he was quasi-wakeful, trying to calm his racing heart and his uneasy thoughts. He got up and found his seat on the porch. He rocked back and forth gently, for a good forty-five minutes.. It was peaceful at night. Out here it felt safe. When he closed his eyes he felt threatened, but it was so damned nebulous—he didn't know if he should pay it any heed. They had a great day, worry–free. Why was his psyche rebelling against that? Apparently Dean wasn't the only one who sucked at holidays. He sighed, and chalked it up to over-stimulation. They had some good plans for tomorrow. He should try to rest again so that he'd be up for it. Once he returned to his room, Sam slept easily. Dean was, as usual, untroubled in his slumber.
Morning broke with rain this time. They were so used to perfect weather thus far, it was a shock to the soul to have a dull day. They ate breakfast and decided to wait it out, hoping to drive to the park in sunshine. It did break somewhat by eleven, and they loaded some lunch and drinks into the cooler, carted it into the van and headed out. They stopped at Sally's wave. They described their plans, and when she heard their destination she gave Sam a detailed description of a short-cut that would shave a half hour off the drive and provide them with a real, non-highway view of Florida wilderness. They thanked her and took the route.
Sam drove. Dean was nursing his knee again, too much activity on the beach the previous day. Dean was really keyed up to see his gators. Sam didn't understand what the hell the attraction was, just a bunch of over-fed geckos with long teeth, fish breath and a nasty attitude. But he was interested in the primeval atmosphere of the virgin cypress swamp. It was a visceral place, ancient and mysterious. He liked the corners of the earth that still held traces of its roots. Everywhere else, it was so processed— you couldn't get a sense of humanity's place or purpose anymore.
Dean was squirming again in the passenger seat, unsuccessfully seeking a comfortable position. Finally Sam couldn't take it any more. He suggested his brother take advantage of the back seat for a little while. Dean refused, of course, insisting he was fine. But Sam kept pushing, declaring that the constant motion was distracting the driver. Dean grumbled, but he was tired of battling the ache and he undid his belt and crawled over to the bench. Sam smiled to himself. Stubborn bugger.
Dean drifted off with in minutes. Sam had his directions, he was happy that his brother could catch a few before the tiring hike in the park. He drove on in quiet, immersed in his own thoughts. He was still bothered by his nocturnal worries. The disquiet had never really left him. But it was all so damned formless, he had no way of conquering the fear if it had no real solidity. Even now he felt his stomach tightening. He was looking forward to the distraction of Dean's silly enthusiasm over the gators, it would draw his own mind away from the omnipresent worry. He glanced back, and witnessed his brother solidly snoozing.. He smirked , they weren't up that late. –Getting old, buddy.
Sam had been driving in the quiet for nearly an hour when the last shred of peace left him. The uneasiness that had plagued him for the last several days suddenly went into overdrive. A searing headache struck him, and threatened to make him pull over. He shook his head repeatedly to clear his sight. His brain always resisted his visions the same way, but this time no imagery was forth-coming. He rubbed his eyes and glanced over his shoulder at Dean, on the bench seat behind, and debated whether he should wake him to take over for a while. There was really no safe road shoulder to stop at, it was built up high here, almost a causeway, with moss shrouded cypress crowding oppressively on either side. Black, still water absorbed all light at the bottom of the vegetation. He felt a faint nausea, but decided to keep going.
Just as he was beginning to relax once more the pain struck him again, blinding in its ferocity. He groaned, and turned to alert Dean, he needed to switch desperately so that he could close his eyes for a while. As his glance swept past the passenger seat, he stopped short, his gaze met by the strange figure of a child.
He blinked hard with shock—
He, or It? sat, crouched like some beast on the seat, -dripping with water, rotting plants clinging to long, matted, sodden hair , face and arms smeared with blackish slime. It leered back at him, his little mouth twisted in a gargoyle grin. Malice seethed from its presence.
Bright yellow eyes.
"Samuel…." it mouthed soundlessly, reaching out to him.
Sam went rigid with terror, but he found his voice and screamed a warning to his brother, "DEAN!"
Dean shot up in startled alarm. He'd been deep in slumber, Sam's yell catapulted him into wakefulness so abruptly he couldn't grasp what was happening. The van still sped its straight course. The road ahead curved sharply.
It struck him like a blow -No one was driving-
"Shit-—SAM!" he cried, diving forward to grasp the wheel.
It was seconds too late. The van hit the shoulder and pitched down the embankment, lurching. It rolled once, then again, throwing up clods of black earth and torn plants, ultimately grinding to a halt upside down against the dank grey trunks. A coven of black birds flew up, screaming their alarm and scattering, leaving eerie silence in their wake. Leaves fell in slow motion from splintered branches. The cloud of mosquitoes disturbed by the vehicle settled down again amongst the foliage.
The wheels still turned, lazily, on the overturned van, in a languid denial of its current state. The air was quiet and still. All that could be heard was the hum of countless insects. It was hideously surreal.
There was no movement within the vehicle.