I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters in it apart from the ones that come from my own imagination, and of course all errors are mine. Enjoy!
*Please note that though Mark Twain, his family, and the Mark Twain House are actual people and an actual place, the events I have happen in this story are purely fiction, and all information about Mark Twain, his family, and the house used in this chapter was obtained via the Mark Twain House website.
*Also note that I'm still plugging away through Season 8 of Supernatural so I am not completely caught up yet in the series.
Author's Little Blurb: Sorry, once again, for the long wait. I lost a bit of motivation to write this for a bit, but now I'm back on track and I hope to maybe get another chapter up (hopefully sooner than the wait you all just went through)!
Four: May You Always Keep Your Youth
A few minutes of silence spanned between Dean and Sara as they continued to gaze at the stars. Sara finally asked her father quietly, "Dad…did you know about the serial killers?"
I knew this was coming… Dean thought as he sighed heavily. "Yeah…I knew about them, kiddo. So did Sam and Bobby."
She didn't respond immediately, trying to figure out how she wanted to ask her next question. Much like her father, she used the blunt approach, "Why didn't you tell me about them?"
"I didn't want you to worry," Dean admitted. He released another sigh, "You shouldn't have to worry about things at your age…"
"Dad…I'm not exactly a normal kid," Sara stated after a few minutes. "I mean…I've seen things most kids get told are fake."
Another sigh escaped Dean, though this one was of regret. His daughter had no idea how much he desperately wished that she could have led a normal, average life. But she didn't have that, "What are you trying to say, kiddo?"
Sara frowned. What am I trying to say? "I guess…I don't want to be left in the dark…"
"You don't want me to keep secrets from you?" Dean tried to clarify as he sat up so he could get a better look at his daughter's face.
Sitting up as well, Sara nodded, "Basically…"
Now she had him cornered, even if unintentionally. Dean could agree to keep her in the loop and have no secrets between them and mean it, and that would mean revealing not only that a psychotic demon was her mother, but that he had made a deal with a cross roads demon as well that could very well end with him going to hell. Or…he could agree, and tell her everything…except the deal. What am I going to do…? He was very torn, since he could see it in Sara's eyes that she really wanted to have no secrets between them. She wanted to know that she was special enough to him; she wanted to know that he really did care for her enough to tell her the truth, even if it would scare her. Dean wasn't sure she knew just how much she was asking of him. Sara was still pretty young though, just entering her teens really. Fourteen was still young. There was still plenty of time for her to hit her rebellious years and not want to tell him everything that was going on in her life, nor really want to know all that was going on in his. Yet he couldn't ignore that so far, his daughter had taken everything that had been thrown at her in stride and that she had never asked him of anything really…until now.
It was easy to see that her father was seriously considering what she had asked of him, and Sara wouldn't be surprised if he told her that he couldn't tell her everything, or that she was childish from wanting him to tell her everything. So far, in her experiences with her father and uncle, secrets had only led to quite a lot of trouble from her being in the clutches of a shape shifter, to recently being at the mercy of serial killers, and she could imagine that her father and uncle would have similar stories about when they kept secrets from each other. Sara really couldn't see a down side to not having any secrets between them.
Taking a deep breath, Dean nodded, closing his eyes, "All right. No more secrets between you and me." He opened his eyes again to see that smile that he so loved on his daughter's face, "There are some things we'll need to discuss…but not tonight." I can at least let her get one more good night's sleep without having any fear of a fucked-up demon…
"All right, Dad," Sara said, leaning against him, trying to silently let him know how much his agreement of no more secrets meant to her.
This time Dean sighed in defeat, rubbing her shoulder as she leaned against him. He pulled away after a few seconds sliding off the hood of the Impala, "We need to head back to Bobby's before he sends that mutt out to look for us!"
"Dad! He's not a mutt!" Sara protested as she slid off the hood as well, heading to the passenger's side door. "Bruce is an awesome Rottweiler!"
"Yeah," Dean agreed as he gave a half-smile before sliding into the driver's seat, adding silently, that he is. He glanced at his daughter as she got in, and though she tried to hide it, he didn't miss her yawn. "We'll be back at Bobby's soon, then you can get some sleep."
"I'm not tired," Sara tried to argue.
Dean started the Impala up, "Sure you're not!" His daughter stuck her tongue out at him in response.
Though it only took five minutes, tops, to get to Bobby's, Sara had fallen asleep in the car. Dean shook his head when he realized she had fallen asleep. Getting out of the car, he walked over to the passenger's side and opened the door, scooping his daughter up into his arms, and muttering, "Not tired, huh?" Locking the door, he closed it and carried Sara towards the house.
Once inside, he found that no one was awake, since he could hear Bobby snoring upstairs, and he could see that Sam was asleep in the living room since the door was half-open. Being as quiet as possible, Dean carried his daughter into the living room and made his way towards the recliner. Tripping over something, he swore as he nearly dropped his daughter. Managing to keep his balance, he muttered, "Son of a bitch…!" He turned to see what he had tripped over to see Bruce, still snoring, on the floor. "Damn dog!" Dean grouched as he set his daughter gently on the recliner, and pulled down the throw that was resting on top of it and setting it on her before he sat down, leaning against the front of the chair, deciding it was as good of a place as any to try and get some shut eye. Even with his thoughts still warring as to how much he was going to tell his daughter, Dean was soon asleep, his head rolling to the side to rest against the left arm of the chair.
The baying and snarling of the hounds echoed around him as he ran, his heart hammering in his chest. Dean glanced over his shoulder to try and see where they were, but he couldn't see them…not yet. He didn't want to see them. All he wanted to do was stay as far away from them as possible…but they were hell hounds, and they had his scent. They'd get him eventually, and he knew it, but he still ran anyway. He wasn't ready to give up and die. He'd been through too much to do that, so he kept running, even as their baying and snarls drew ever closer, the echoes getting gradually louder…
Dean awoke with a jolt from his nightmare, and he closed his eyes, silently reminding himself that it was a dream. The hounds wouldn't be after him for several months yet. He still had time to find the demon and kill her. He knew most of the dream was from his memories of the last time he'd made a deal. The terror that was currently coursing through him was very real though…too real.
Opening his eyes he inhaled sharply when he saw a dog's face right in front of him. "Dog!" He hissed in a furious whisper as he tried to get his heartbeat back on track since it had skipped a beat. Bruce simply continued to stare at him until Dean roughly shoved him away, grouching, "You are not the brightest hound!" He glanced at the clock to see that it was around seven in the morning. Standing up, he noticed that Bruce hadn't gone very far even after Dean had shoved him away. Annoyed, Dean demanded in a fierce whisper, "What?" Bruce whined and trotted into the kitchen before scratching at the door. Realization finally struck Dean that the dog probably had to go out to relieve himself. Reluctantly, Dean walked into the kitchen and let Bruce out, the Rottweiler bounding outside and starting to mark every car on the property that he could.
More tired than he cared to admit, Dean leaned against the open door, waiting for Bruce to return so that he could go back to sleep, unfortunately, Bruce had other ideas, and he took a full ten minutes to relieve himself and come back to the door, happily trotting in and shaking before heading into the living room and taking Dean's spot in front of the recliner.
Slightly annoyed, Dean sat in one of the kitchen chairs and slouched in it, attempting to get comfy. After several minutes of adjusting his position, he finally managed to find a comfortable position to sleep in and he soon dozed off, hoping to get a couple more hours of sleep before either Bobby or Sam woke up.
Dean didn't know what woke him up, probably some internal clock that was letting him know that he got his designated four hours sleep. Whatever it was, he wasn't thrilled to find himself awake at eight o'clock. Glancing around and listening, he didn't hear any footsteps or voices signifying that anyone else was up. His gaze went to the living room to confirm that at least Sam and Sara were definitely still asleep along with Bruce.
Getting up out of the chair, Dean walked into the living room and he gently shook his daughter's shoulder. A soft moan was the first response he got. "Hey! Come on, kiddo. Up and at'em," he said, keeping his tone low so as not to wake Sam, though he didn't succeed in not waking Bruce, who was on his paws in an instant.
"What is it?" Sara asked groggily, still not completely awake.
Dean answered, "I promised you that there'd be no more secrets between us…Now's the best time to tell you."
Still not fully awake, she asked, "What time is it."
"Eight."
This time she groaned, "Why so early?"
Because Sam won't be breathing down my neck as I tell you these things that I said I wouldn't tell you… "Because it's early and you'll have plenty of time to get over the shock, now come on."
Sitting up, Sara wiped at her eyes, and slowly followed her father first into the kitchen and then outside, Bruce keeping close to her like a shadow.
Sam woke up at the sound of the kitchen door closing, and he glanced around, at first unsure of what had woken him up. Hearing Bruce's excited barking; he walked into the kitchen and looked out the window, surprised to see Dean outside with his daughter. With a quick look at the clock, Sam was even more confused as to what they were both doing up at such an early hour, especially considering how late the pair must have gotten back at, since he and Bobby had called it a night around midnight.
Quietly, Sam slipped outside and made sure to keep his distance and remain hidden so that his brother wouldn't know that he was there as he listened to what he was telling Sara.
Sara followed her father about halfway to the Impala when he stopped walking and glanced down at her. She waited patiently for him to start talking, though part of her wanted him to hurry up before she fell back asleep.
Realizing that he'd have to start from when he'd picked her up from the orphanage, Dean hoped that his daughter wouldn't be too hurt by what he was about to say, "Sara…when I came to the orphanage to pick you up…it wasn't because I felt that I was a better father…it was because a demon, that I thought I'd gotten off your trail had found you." Dean had to look away from his daughter as he saw the pain and disbelief start to enter her eyes, "If had been up to me…I wouldn't have come back for you otherwise…"
Sara fought back tears at her father's first words. They hurt. To hear him say that he wouldn't have come for her without prompting was extremely painful to hear, but she managed to keep the pain and sorrow from her voice as she asked, "Why couldn't you just gank the demon and be done with it?"
"That's the problem," Dean said, still not looking at his daughter, "When I first found you outside my hotel room door, I figured your mother would come and get you remembering what a dick I was…I didn't realize it at the time…but your mother did come for you, or more specifically, she came for you to try and get back at me." He risked a look at his daughter to see the hurt and confusion in her eyes, and he had to look away, merely addressing the confusion, "Your mother somehow became a demon, one that's immune to salt and probably everything else that I'd normally use against a demon. At the time, I had just finished up my first solo hunt, and having a kid dropped on my doorstep and then a demon showing up…I couldn't handle it."
"That's when you gave me up," Sara stated, still trying to keep the pain and sadness out of her voice.
Dean nodded, "Yeah…though I really didn't want to, kiddo."
Though she really wanted to believe him, Sara found it hard to believe him after what he'd first said, so she simply nodded.
"Anyway, that demon lost your trail up until a little over a month ago back when I came and got you…problem is…this demon is still after you and it wants to kill you…She let me know that she wants me to suffer from her killing you, so she let me know that I have a year with you, and at the end of it, she intends to kill you."
A shiver of fear went up Sara's spine, and her pain at hearing her father say he'd merely picked her up from the orphanage because of a demon was momentarily forgotten. She only had a year to live? Only a year?! One year to spend with her father, and two months of it had already been wasted?! I don't want to die!
When he looked at his daughter again, Dean saw the raw fear in her eyes, and he knelt down, and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him, "I don't have any intention of letting that demon get anywhere near you, and I sure as hell am not going to let her kill you! Do you understand me?" When she didn't respond, Dean said sharply, "Hey! Do you understand me?!" She nodded, though Dean realized that her fears hadn't been dissolved in any way.
"Dad…" she asked quietly, another fear coming forward, "Am I even human?"
This he could answer, and he was starting to feel glad that Sam had pestered him to have Castiel check her to see if she was completely human, and to see if she was legitimately his daughter, "Yes. You're human. I asked Castiel to check." He decided to address her other question before she could even think of it, "And, yes, you are my daughter, I had that checked as well. Both with your uncle's urging really…" Dean decided Sam should get credit where it was due.
Sara nodded, though she couldn't feel relieved as the pain came back, he wouldn't have come back for me if that demon didn't find me…he never would have…does he really even care?
Sam had heard enough, and he was furious with his brother, One minute he doesn't want to tell her anything so that she can sleep well at night, and now he's telling her everything, and she's obviously upset by all of it! He's not even reassuring her that he cares!
Quietly, he made his way back into the house. Sam decided that he and Dean were going to have a real good talk about why he decided that Sara should know everything and not have her feelings spared.
Dean saw that something was still troubling his daughter, and he asked, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Sara lied immediately without really thinking.
He put on a smile as he reminded his daughter, "No secrets anymore, remember?"
Shaking, and unable to hold back her tears any longer, she whispered, "You wouldn't have come back for me if that demon hadn't found me…!"
Her tears and the obvious pain in her voice felt like he'd had a knife shoved into his stomach, but he answered truthfully, "No…I wouldn't have…" Sara tried to pull away from him then, but Dean kept a firm grip on her shoulders, "I never wanted this life for you. I didn't want you to become a hunter. I wanted you to live a normal life, with a normal family. A loving mother and father, maybe some siblings…I didn't want this life for you at all." He still felt her trembling, and she had her eyes closed as tears flowed down her cheeks. To add emphasis to Sara's obvious pain, Bruce whined, hovering only an inch or two behind her.
Dean pulled his daughter against him then, and he felt her tears seep through his shirt, he said softly, "I don't regret getting you though…" You're the best thing that ever happened to me… he said silently. "I love you, kiddo." He held her tighter than as he thought of the deal he'd made, and the possible ending it could have with him no longer being in her life, "Don't ever doubt that I love you, Sara…Please don't ever doubt that…" He felt her arms wrap around him, and hug him back, and he hoped that meant that she understood that he loved her.
Sara did understand. She felt stupid for ever doubting her father. Of course he cared about her. He wouldn't have kept her with him and her uncle so long, or told her all of this if he didn't. She still had to check one thing though, "Dad…?"
"Yeah."
"Once this demon is gone…" She couldn't bring herself to ask the question, realizing that it might hurt her father.
Dean knew what she had wanted to ask though, and he answered her unspoken question, "Once the demon is gone, you'll still be with Sammy and I…" He felt bad for lying, but he didn't want her to feel guilty about the deal he'd made to protect her. Dean pulled away from her then, and he stood up, helping Sara up as well. He teased, "Any deep, dark secrets you want to tell me?"
He got the desired result as Sara laughed, wiping her eyes, "I thought you and Uncle Sammy were hot when I first saw you."
Her father messed up her hair, "So you know where you inherited your good looks from." She raised an eyebrow at him, and he eventually gave in to his contained amusement, laughing a bit. "Is that really all?"
"Sadly, yes," Sara admitted.
Dean smiled, "Then head inside and we'll see if we can find any breakfast."
Sam forced himself not to give his brother an outright glare as he and Sara walked in along with Bruce, who was sticking close to Sara's side. Seeing his niece's red-rimmed eyes, tugged at his heartstrings though, and he asked quietly, "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," Sara lied. "Must be allergic to something outside…"
Knowing that he wouldn't get a different answer out of her, Sam casually asked, "What were you two doing up so early?"
"Taking Bruce for a walk," Dean answered off-handedly as he started to look through Bobby's fridge for something to eat. "Dog was keeping us both up with how antsy he was getting."
Fighting to keep control over his temper, he was relieved when Bobby came downstairs and saw Dean raiding his fridge, "What are you doing?"
"Fixing breakfast," Dean answered as he shut the fridge, holding eggs, cheese, and bacon.
"What exactly are you making?"
"Omelets?" Dean's answer was more of a question.
Bobby took the items from Dean's arms, while Dean grinned, looking like he'd won a trophy as he sat down, and Bobby set to work, grumbling, "I should spit in yours!"
Dean continued to grin until he thought about who had just spoken and said, "Please don't!"
Bobby didn't answer, merely going to work on making breakfast. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dean to cook, but there was something in his eyes, that Bobby couldn't quite explain, that had made him take up the reins on making breakfast. Boy…something tells me I don't want to know what's on your mind…
Sam decided to keep himself from snapping at Dean anytime soon, "You said you had a possible case for us, Bobby?"
"Wow! Back up!" Dean said, leaning forward, "When was this discussed?"
"Last night," Bobby answered. "I was looking through a Connecticut newspaper…"
"Which you got from where?" Dean questioned.
Bobby threw Dean's omelet onto a plate, "I bought it!" He snorted as he set the plate in front of Dean before working on the next one.
"As Bobby was saying, something's going on at Samuel Clemens' House," Sam stated, picking up from where Bobby had left off.
"Who?" Dean questioned Sam before giving a conspiratorially wink to his daughter.
He was hit in the back of the head with a rolled up newspaper, courtesy of Bobby, "Keep it up, Idjit! It's Mark Twain's house!" Bruce had been sneaking around the table, preparing to hop on the table when he got a swat in the rear end with the rolled up newspaper and he retreated to the living room with a yelp. Snorting once again, Bobby continued, "The big story in the newspaper was about a woman knocking herself senseless trying to get into one of the locked rooms. That was after she nearly scratched her fingertips off clawing at the door."
"What's in the locked room?" Dean questioned past a mouthful of omelet.
Bobby shrugged as he set a second omelet in front of Sara before he turned back to the stove, "Staff say there's nothing in there apart from some things that they don't have on display…yet."
"How is this our kind of thing?" Dean asked.
Sam answered, "Because the woman claims to be possessed, and witnesses say that she didn't respond when her name was called, and that she exhibited inhuman strength. Apparently she didn't remember anything when she came to either."
Dean nodded, "Sounds like we should check it out."
Bobby set the last omelet in front of Sam, and said sarcastically, "I wouldn't have thought of that!"
Grinning in response, Dean turned to his daughter as she questioned, "So is this a possible demon case?"
"Possible," Dean admitted. "Not likely though, Kiddo."
"Why?" Sara asked.
"It fits more with a ghost possession," Dean explained. "But like I said, it could be possible that a demon is responsible, but not unless someone says that they noticed some black smoke leaving the woman, I don't think it's likely. A demon wouldn't give up control of a host body so easily."
Sam added, "Not unless it knew that its host wouldn't be able to do the job."
"Still," Dean said. "No one mentions black smoke."
"That we know of."
Dean glared at his brother, wondering why the heck Sam seemingly wanted to get into a verbal fight. He was even more surprised when Sam returned his glare, almost tenfold, and it showed on his face, now I know something is wrong…wonder what stick's up his ass now?
Glancing between her father and uncle, Sara started to wonder what was going on between them now.
Bobby was thinking similarly to Sara, wondering what was wrong with the brothers, if you two idjits keep it up, I'll start addressing Sara as the adult and you two as children since you keep acting like them!
"Either way," Dean said, trying to understand his brother's apparent bad mood. "Our kind of crazy. So when do we head out, Bobby?"
Before Bobby could answer, Sam said quietly, "I think we should address the crazy that's going on right here."
Bobby quickly said to Sara, "Why don't you and I go figure out if this is a demon or ghost case without these two?"
"Sure," Sara eagerly agreed, knowing that her father and uncle seemed to be having some more issues.
As soon as the door closed behind Bobby and Sara (and Bruce by default) Dean demanded in a low tone, "What's this about? Did you wake up pissed at me for snoring or what?"
Sam gave a dark laugh, trying to organize his thoughts so he could make it very clear to Dean why he was ticked off. "You say that you don't want to tell her everything, and yet that's exactly what you did this morning." Sam turned the full force of his furious gaze on his brother, "You said that you wanted her to sleep at night, and now you just tell her everything?"
Dean met Sam's furious gaze with his own, "Taken to eavesdropping on my private conversations with my daughter? I don't understand you, Sam!"
"It's you I don't understand, Dean!" Sam bellowed. "You're becoming a frickin' hypocrite when it comes to how you claim you're going to raise your daughter!"
"Oh, I'm a hypocrite!" Dean's voice rose to match Sam's in volume. "You treated Sara like the plague when you thought she wasn't mine, and now you're concerned about her well-being?! You have no right to tell me how I should be raising her!"
"At least I make it clear why I act the way I do, if not to her, then to you!" Sam shook his head in disgust at his brother, "You don't even tell me what the hell is on your mind."
"I don't have to tell you everything, Sammy," Dean said, his tone becoming quiet once more. "I've told you before, and I'll keep telling you: how I choose to raise my daughter is my business. Not yours." Sam had had enough, and he took a swing at his brother.
Sitting in the living room, hearing the raised voices of Sam and Dean, Bobby could tell the boys' yelling was getting to Sara, just by the way she was hugging Bruce. It was as if the Rottweiler was her anchor. The yelling stopped suddenly, and Bobby started to stand up, assuming the boys had gotten it out of their system. When he heard a loud thud, followed by a loud crash, he said to Sara, "Stay in here!" Moving as fast as he could, Bobby entered the kitchen.
Sara didn't even have to see what her father and uncle were doing, the sounds alone gave away that they were having a fist fight, and it scared her a bit. A couple times she'd heard them yell at each other, and yes, the first night she'd been with them they'd exchanged blows, but otherwise, their arguments had never gotten this bad before.
Hugging Bruce more tightly, Sara wished that she knew what to do or say so that they wouldn't get into these arguments. It'd help if I knew what the source of the problem was, but I know if I ask, neither one of them will give me a straight answer…they never do… She hugged the Rottweiler all the more tighter as a darker though entered her mind, am I the problem?
"HEY!" Bobby hollered as soon as the kitchen door closed behind him. Taking in the scene, Sam had Dean on the table, and his fist was raised, ready to punch him in the face. Likewise, Dean had one hand on the one Sam had on his shirt collar, and the other had obviously been in the same motion as Sam's raised fist. "Why don't you idjits ever think before you act?! You got a young girl in there who's probably come to the conclusion that she's the reason you're fighting!" He saw that his words affected both of them, and though Dean didn't look concerned to the untrained eye, Bobby could see that he was the one most affected by his words.
"Sorry, Bobby," they both muttered like two kids caught in trouble, which they pretty much were in Bobby's mind.
Bobby snorted, "I see you both got some good slugs in at the other, hopefully it cleared some of whatever's up your asses out!" Dean had a cut on his cheek, while Sam had a split lip. "Now both of you go clean yourselves up!"
Sam led the way out of the kitchen and into the living room towards the bathroom. He sighed when he saw how Sara was practically straggling the Rottweiler from how tightly she was hugging him, Bobby's right…we didn't think about the consequences of our actions. Glancing back at his brother, he was relieved to see that Dean seemed to be on the same wavelength as him, maybe he'll start taking what I say a bit more seriously. This shook Sara up, why didn't he think that telling her everything wouldn't?! She's just a kid! Entering the bathroom he shut the door behind him.
Dean went to his daughter and sat down the couch next to her, "You know your uncle and I just butt heads sometimes, right? It's got nothing to do with you."
"It feels like it does," Sara muttered, though she did loosen her hold on Bruce. The Rottweiler looked relieved.
Deciding a little white lie wasn't really breaking his promise, Dean shook his head, "Nah! Sammy and I just get on each other's nerves and we're not really the type of guys to talk our feelings out."
"I can see that," his daughter didn't laugh like he'd been hoping; though she did release her hold of Bruce, who promptly lay down, head on his paws.
"Ah, kiddo," Dean said, not really knowing what else to say as he pulled her against his side, "You worry too much."
"I kind of have to," Sara muttered.
Dean raised an eyebrow at her, "Really?"
She nodded, though she didn't elaborate. He sighed, "Kiddo, you really don't have to worry. Sam was just ticked off at me for my parenting methods." He frowned, "I guess it's about you indirectly." Now he got the desired laugh from her. "Seriously though, what your uncle and I get into arguments about isn't about you." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Now your old man needs to go and clean up before Bobby starts tanning my hide." He heard another laugh as he walked to the bathroom door. Dean had great timing, as Sam walked back out, having washed his split lip.
As Dean entered the bathroom, Sam leaned against the top of the back of the couch, "Hey, Sara." She glanced over her shoulder at him, "You do know that your dad and I weren't arguing about you or anything like that, right?"
"I know," Sara answered, giving a small smile reminiscent of her father, "Dad told me already."
"Good," Sam said, trying to hide his surprise. "You should probably start packing up and getting ready to hit the road. We're going to Connecticut once we're all packed."
An hour later, they were leaving Bobby and a distraught Bruce behind as they headed for Connecticut. Bobby patted the Rottweiler on the head as the dog whined pathetically. Bobby muttered, "Oh, be quiet you baby. They'll be back eventually." Bruce continued to whine, "Why did I let them convince me to keep you?!"
In the Impala, Dean and Sam were discussing how to get to Hartford, Connecticut. Dean saying, "Look, if we take I-90 we'd get there in twenty-four hours if we just traded off and on."
"Or," Sam countered, we stop for the night somewhere and just get to Hartford the following day anyway."
"Don't tell me you missed Bobby's little briefing about what that woman did to herself while possessed?"
"No, Dean, I didn't," Sam stated, "However, it's the only incident so far."
"Oh, so that means we should take our sweet old time," Dean said sarcastically.
"No, I'm just saying that we don't have to kill ourselves trying to get there."
Sara was listening in the back seat, wishing that they'd come to an agreement, however, she didn't chime in either, not wanting to be dragged into the argument.
"We're driving through the night," Dean stated, his tone indicating there'd be no more argument. "We'll take a break in whatever motel we check into and then we'll investigate what's going on, happy?"
Sam hadn't missed his brother's gaze going to the rearview mirror, and he had a feeling that Sara's presence had helped to settle the argument, "Fine. That's what we'll do."
Dean flipped through his cassettes without looking, and pulled out Led Zeppelin, popping the cassette into the radio, and raising the volume, his classic way of signifying that the conversation was definitely over.
"You know, I envy her right now," Dean muttered twenty hours later to Sam.
Sam's eyes were closed, but he was still awake, having just finished his shift of driving, "How so?"
"She can sleep for a solid eight hours," Dean answered.
Sam laughed, opening his eyes, "Yeah. I'll admit, I'm a bit envious right now too."
"I can't wait till she's old enough to drive," Dean frowned as soon as the words left his mouth, "Scratch that. I can."
Another laugh escaped Sam, "I kind of knew that last statement was coming."
"Yeah," Dean smiled, but Sam noticed that it didn't reach his brother's eyes.
"What's up?" Sam questioned, genuinely concerned.
"Nothing."
"Don't shut me out again, Dean."
"I'm not. Nothing's wrong."
The would-have-been brotherly moment was gone, and Sam sighed in defeat, closing his eyes once more.
Dean waited until he heard his brother's breathing slow before he glanced in the rearview mirror at his daughter. If things didn't work out as he planned, if he couldn't kill the demon, he wouldn't be around to teach her how to drive, or to help her through whatever trials her later teenage years brought on, and that was something that tore at his heart and really made him wonder if making the deal had been for the best or not. God…I hope I did the right thing, Kiddo, because if I didn't… He focused on the road and the hunt ahead once more, not wanting his thoughts to go any further.
Reaching a twenty four hour Super 8, Dean parked the Impala in the parking lot. Not bothering to wake his brother or daughter, he walked in. The lady at the counter gave him a dark look, probably wishing he hadn't arrived to ruin her reading, since Dean noticed a magazine on her desk.
"Hi, I'd like to reserve a room for a couple nights, preferably large enough for three people," Dean said, giving his most charming smile.
The woman was apparently immune to his charm, "There's only a one bedroom available at this time, sir, perhaps you'd like to wait until the late morning."
Dean had a quick debate over waking his brother and daughter to move them into a cramped room or just sleeping in the Impala for the night. "I'll see whatever charming person is at the front desk later!" Turning around he walked right back outside and opened the back door on the passenger's side of the Impala, sliding in next to his daughter and reclining back as much as he could to try and get comfortable. He could get a couple hours sleep before he or Sam, or both tried to get a different, hopefully larger room later that morning.
Dean woke up as light streamed in through the windshield of the Impala. Grunting as he tried to stretch out his legs, both of which seemed to have fallen asleep on him, he heard Sam ask groggily from the front seat, "Why did we sleep in the Impala?"
"Because I didn't see the point of putting us in a small, cramped room," Dean muttered, opening the door and stepping outside, stretching.
Sam did the same, grouching, "And the car was the better choice?"
"You were sound asleep and I didn't hear you complaining," Dean stated.
His brother simply rolled his eyes, "I'm going to book us a room, WHATEVER size it may be!"
Rolling his eyes, Dean finished stretching and slid back into the back seat of the Impala, and he gently shook his daughter's shoulder. Unlike when she'd first joined them in hunting, Sara's eyes were open in an instant. Dean almost missed having to put a bit more effort into waking her up…almost. "We're checking in, kiddo."
He got out of the Impala once more, and he heard his daughter get out of the car as well, the door shutting behind her. They both walked around to the trunk and Dean smirked, "You can head inside and head to the room with Sammy if you want."
"I'd rather help out with carrying the bags," Sara said, yawning a bit.
Dean continued to smirk, "Don't think your old man can handle all of them?"
Sara didn't say anything, merely smiling as she grabbed several of the bags that she could actually carry without falling over. Dean's smirk changed to a grin as he grabbed the other bags, closing the trunk and locking it before he walked with his daughter inside.
They couldn't have timed it better as Sam got the keys to their room. Spotting them, Sam waited for them to get closer before he led the way towards their room.
Sam reluctantly commented as they walked down the hall, "I managed to get us a room with two beds and a cushioned chair."
"Worth they wait then," Dean said.
"Yeah, it was."
Grinning, Dean pushed open the door once Sam unlocked it, and they both immediately starting going through the room, making sure there were no surprises, a habit that hadn't left them since the days of hunting leviathan. Sara set down the bags she was carrying where Dean had dropped the other ones, standing near them as she waited for them to finish searching the room. The room contained two beds and a cushioned chair as Sam had said, along with a bathroom, two desks, and a nightstand in between the two beds. After the brothers exchanged a quick glance, Dean nodded at his daughter, signifying that they hadn't come across anything that made them think there was something else in the room or that had been in the room. All three of them set to unpacking what they needed; Sam unpacking his laptop and several of the various books that he used to "home-school" Sara, while Sara unpacked her homework that she had to do, and Dean put whatever was in the cooler (mainly beer) into the fridge before he unpacked his own computer (which Sam had forced him to buy after a particular hunt).
Sam already had his computer up and running and had the internet up when he said, "Dean…we're going to have to move a bit faster…there was another possession at the Twain House."
Out of the chair and at the other desk in an instant, Dean asked, "What's the story on this one?"
"Same sort of thing as the other case," Sam said. "Except this time, the woman threw her husband down the stairs from the second floor when he touched her to see if she was all right."
"Are they okay?" Sara asked worriedly, looking up from her Latin homework.
"In the hospital, but yeah, the article says that they're all right," Sam answered.
Dean straightened up and muttered, "We need to see about talking to both women, possibly the husband of the one, but how do we go about it, FBI won't work."
"Department of Health?" Sam suggested after a few moments.
Dean shrugged, "It's the best we got. I don't think anything else could get us in."
"I guess that means I'm staying here?" Sara asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
"Actually," Sam said, giving Dean a quick glance to see how he would react to his suggestion. "You can check out the library and get as much information on the Mark Twain House as possible." He didn't hear an objection from his brother, and he cast another quick look at Dean, and he was surprised to see him nodding in agreement. Huh…looks like we might actually agree on something for once!
"All right!" Sara agreed immediately, happy to have a task to do while her father and uncle asked the victims questions.
An hour later, after dropping Sara off at the local library, Sam and Dean were entering the hospital, dressed in their typical suits. Approaching the front desk, they flashed their ID badges to the nurse as Sam said, "We're from the Department of Health, and we wanted to speak with the two women that had incidents at the Mark Twain House."
The nurse looked alarmed as he spoke, her green eyes widening in surprise, "Is it something contagious? Many people have come in to visit them!"
"We hope not," Dean said, before he added, "So can you tell us where they're at?"
Nodding, the nurse led them through a door and down a pristine white hallway before she stopped in front of one of the doors, "This is Mrs. Edmington's room, and three doors down is Mr. & Mrs. Moore's shared room." She hurried away, apparently afraid of catching some unknown disease; this made Sam and Dean's job all the easier though since they didn't have to worry about anybody listening intently to the questions they asked the patients.
Pushing the door open to Mrs. Edmington's room, and they realized why she was still in the hospital, she had several nasty cuts on her head, and she stared at them blankly, not even acknowledging their presence. They quickly exited the room, Dean muttering, "We're not going to get any information from her…"
"Yeah, but now I'm starting to wonder what we've got on our hands," Sam muttered.
Sara realized that she could have just as easily stayed at the Super 8 to do the research as she got onto one of the library's many computers, setting her backpack down next to her chair, and pulling out a notebook to take down notes of what she found. Typing in "Mark Twain House" on Google she immediately clicked on the link and was immediately taken to the home page of the Mark Twain House website. Glancing at the four different tabs, she decided to click on "The Man" tab first; I might as well see if there were any deaths in the house that might suggest the presence of a restless spirit. As she clicked on the link "Sam Clemens' Family" Sara started reading the sad history of the Twain family, or more specifically, of the children, once she'd browsed through Olivia Langdon Clemens' history.
Mark Twain's son, Langdon, and firstborn died at nineteen months of age from diphtheria, his second child and first daughter, Olivia Susan, fondly called Susy, died at age twenty-four from spinal meningitis, and the house was sold in 1903, six years after her death. Clara, the second oldest daughter, was the only one who lived to the age of eighty-eight, and then there was Jane, called Jean, who died at age twenty-four, though not in the Hartford house, of an apparent heart attack.
Frowning at the screen, Sara realized that there was really only the possibility of either Mark Twain himself haunting the house, though it wouldn't make sense why he couldn't get into a certain room, or Susy; granted, their was the vague possibility of the butler haunting the house as well, but he was only mentioned in a blog saying that the Ghost Facers had visited the house to see if it was haunted—they'd said yes. Mark Twain would have had an attachment to the house since he'd owned it, while Susy actually died in the house, making both of them the prime suspects. However, Sara was suspecting Susy since she didn't understand why Mark Twain wouldn't have access to all the rooms, the house having belonged to him. Susy, on the other hand, would, possibly, not have access to all the rooms of the house, so if one was locked… she continued to do more research, clicking on "The House" tab and clicking the link "Virtual Tour".
Perplexed at the map presented to her, she looked at all the floor plans, hoping her father and uncle wouldn't be upset with her as she printed the page, praying that they had cash on them to pay whatever the fee was for printing, she logged off the computer and went to grab the page she'd printed.
"What exactly happened to you, Mrs. Moore?" Sam asked gently. The woman lying in the hospital bed had similar injuries to Mrs. Edmington, minus the nasty head injuries. The only reason she was still in the hospital was that the hospital wanted to monitor her and make sure she didn't have another "spell". Her husband was in the bed next to her, and Dean was speaking with him.
Mrs. Moore answered, her brown eyes having a hunted look, "We had just gotten onto the second floor and we'd just finished seeing Mr. Twain's master bedroom. We started walking towards the bedroom that is above the Mahogany Room, when in the other hall, I spotted…" Her eyes got a wild look to them.
"Go on," Sam gently urged.
"I…I spotted a girl, and she said…" Mrs. Moore started to cry. "She said she wanted in!" She started to sob.
Sam shifted uncomfortably. It was difficult enough speaking with her since he'd see the red puffiness around her brown eyes when he'd entered, but he felt worse for making the poor woman relive something she obviously wanted to forget. "Mrs. Moore…" He finally said after her sobs seemed to subside after several minutes, "Do you remember anything after that?"
Mrs. Moore nodded, pushing a blonde strand of hair out of her tear-stained face, "Yes...I…I remember her rushing at me, and then…nothing…" She started to cry again.
Sam said quietly, "Thank you, Mrs. Moore." He made a hasty exit, and he was glad that Dean followed him out. "Get anything out of Mr. Moore?" He asked once the door shut behind them.
"Not a thing except that he said he touched her shoulder when she started walking towards a room not on the tour and that she picked him up, carried him to the stairs, and threw him down it saying she wanted in and nothing was going to stop her," Dean answered. "And that he doesn't blame his wife. He said she wasn't herself, obviously." He sighed in exasperation, "I hope you had better luck!"
"She said she spotted a girl and that the girl rushed her and that was all she remembered," Sam stated.
"Great," Dean muttered. "So we have virtually nothing!"
"Let's hope Sara had some luck identifying our girl, otherwise we really do have nothing," Sam muttered, adding silently, otherwise, we're going to be here a lot longer than we planned.
Pulling up in front of the library a half hour later, Sam and Dean entered the library and didn't have far to look for Sara, who was seated at one of the tables near the front, but off to the side so as to not attract attention.
She's learning, Dean thought in approval, walking towards his daughter with Sam a step or two behind him.
Hearing their approach Sara closed the book she'd been reading and stashed it in her backpack. Dean frowned as he spotted the title of her Latin book, why is she doing her homework when we told her to research the Twain House?
Oh, good, glad she finally started on that, Sam thought, also seeing the title of the book.
"What have you been doing, kiddo?" Dean asked as he reached the table.
Sara answered, "Doing my homework."
Dean's frown became more pronounced, "The whole time?"
"No," Sara answered, catching the look her father was giving her, "I researched the Twain House from their site and got all the information I could on the family, and I printed off plans of the house from their virtual tour."
"Sammy," Dean said, gesturing towards the librarian, but Sam was way ahead of him, already half-way to the desk to pay whatever fee went with the printer. Looking at the page his daughter showed him and the notes she'd taken in a notebook, Dean smiled, nodding in approval.
Smiling back at her father, she grabbed her notebook, the page and placed them in her backpack, glad that she'd managed to be useful already to the hunt, unlike on the previous ones. Now if only it can stay this way it'll be great!
Dean could tell that his daughter was ecstatic at his approval and that she'd contributed to the hunt, and he messed up her hair as he led the way out of the library, Sara right behind him, and Sam trailing a bit behind, having finished paying the librarian the fee for printing.
Back at the Super 8, Dean and Sam were discussing the hunt, and Sara was pretending to continue working on her Latin homework, but she was really listening intently to what they said.
"I'm going to have to say that it seems like Susy is our resident spook of the Twain House," her father stated.
Sam shook his head, "I'm not so sure, I mean, Mark Twain did have three daughters, it could be any one of them really. Just because the other two didn't die in the house doesn't mean that they didn't have issues with their father or connections to the house."
"Actually Jean and Clara made up with their father," Sara chimed in.
Sam raised an eyebrow at her, "Homework."
Grumbling, Sara actually focused on the Latin in front of her, though she cast Sam a dirty look every now and then.
Dean managed to keep the grin off his face, "She's right, it's what their site says."
"I'd still feel better if we checked out the house in the daytime and then…"
"And then go and take a look at night and really get this case figured out," Dean finished for his brother. "The only thing is, if we do have to do a salt and burn, we need to know where our spook is buried."
"That part might be a bit more difficult," Sam muttered. He moved his laptop around so Dean could get a look at what he was looking at.
Dean said sarcastically, "New York! Great! Just perfect! And that's not even his whole family!"
"Exactly," Sam agreed quietly. "Let's hope we don't need to salt and burn a body, hopefully it'll just be an object or something."
"We'll see when we go take a tour…speaking of which," Dean nodded at Sam's laptop, "Check and see if they're open to the public walking in today or not."
Sam clicked on the link and quickly found the hours for the tours, "We're in luck. They don't close until five-thirty."
"Then let's go get a tour," Dean said, "We'll just make sure we look like a typical family on vacation."
"You do realize what you just said, right?" Sam questioned.
"Yeah…we're the furthest thing from normal…"
About an hour later, Sam, Dean, and Sara were starting a tour of the Mark Twain house, and they did look normal, all of them showing interest in the grounds and the rooms, but to the passerby, Sam was the father, while Dean was most likely a favorite uncle or family friend. Sam made sure to keep Sara close, adding his own comments to that of the tour guide's while Dean hung back, taking things in at his own pace. Sara tried to stay in between the, but found herself listening more to Sam's extra tidbits about the house.
Sam may have been playing the part of a normal family well, but he made sure to keep his eyes open for the ghost, not to mention, he would discreetly pull out his hand-made EMF detector.
As they reached the second floor while the tour group went further along, Sam held the EMF detector near the door of the master bedroom. Dean walked over to him and asked quietly, "Anything?"
"Yeah, we definitely got a spirit," Sam murmured. "It's just finding where the spirit is at." He glanced down the hall, "We'd better catch up before someone notices we're not keeping up."
Dean nodded and let Sam lead the way, asking Sara quietly, "So what do you think so far?"
Sara shrugged, knowing full well her father was asking her about what she sensed. Her father had explained to her that while hunters weren't typically psychic, they were more in tuned with their animal instincts; instincts that let them know when things were off about a place, when something evil was present, something with malicious intent, or just something that was threat.
"You know I'm not letting that answer fly," Dean murmured.
Sara frowned now. She wasn't sure what her instincts were telling her, "I don't think anything bad is going on here."
"I'll agree with that," Dean conceded. "Something's still off about this place though." He continued down the hall, and Sara followed him. Wishing her senses and instincts were more like her father and uncle's so she could be of more useful.
Passing a different hallway that led to a bedroom that wasn't a part of the tour, Dean nodded at the room without stopping, "That's where our two victims have been trying to get into. That locked bedroom above the Mahogany Room."
As Sara passed the hall, she only glanced towards at the hall, but she stopped and did a double-take, swearing she saw a young girl in a white dress with a red ribbon tied under the collar of her dress, her light colored hair pulled away from her face by a black ribbon. However, the girl wasn't there when Sara stopped to get a better look. Dean was hallway down the hall, almost caught up with the tour group when he noticed that his daughter had stopped, "Something wrong?"
"I thought I saw something," Sara answered, not only remembering the agreement that she and her father would have no secrets, but also knowing that he'd want to know about what she'd seen since it pertained to their hunt.
Dean hurried back to his daughter, fighting the urge to draw his pistol. He looked down the hallway towards the one bedroom, "What did you see?"
"A girl," Sara answered. "She was pretty young, wearing a white dress. She had light colored hair."
Now frowning, Dean walked down the hallway cautiously, pulling out his own home-made EMF detector and holding it near the door. "Something was definitely here, but it's gone now." He walked back down the hallway and stood next to Sara, "She didn't come at you or say anything?"
Sara nodded, "Yeah, I just saw her when I glanced down the hallway. When I stopped to get a better look, she wasn't there."
"All right," Dean murmured, putting one arm around her shoulders, "Let's catch up with the tour group."
Once Dean and Sara caught up with Sam, Dean motioned for his brother to drop back, "We know that our spirit is here, so let's get out and prepare for tonight." Sam nodded and all three of them exited the house, a surprised hostess trying to ask them why they'd left their tour before it had ended, but to no avail.
As soon as they were back at the Super 8, Sara used her father's computer to look at the pictures of Mark Twain's three daughters. "It's definitely Susy," Sara said, enlarging the picture. She was wearing the same clothes as she was wearing in this picture.
"That doesn't make much sense though," Sam muttered. "She died when she was twenty-four."
"We've come across stranger things," Dean said. "Why not a ghost that decides to revert back to childhood?"
"I don't know, it just seems off to me," Sam stated.
"We'll just have to deal with whatever this ghost throws at us, all right?" Dean finished cleaning his gun and reassembled it. "Let's just finish getting ready and head over there as soon as we can."
Sam finished cleaning his own gun then and reassembled it as well, "I'm hoping we can actually complete this job."
"Ready to go, kiddo?" Dean questioned.
"Not just yet," Sara answered, blushing a bit, still cleaning her weapon. Her father and uncle didn't press her to hurry, wanting her to learn the process first, knowing that speed would come with practice. If it had been a more serious case, Dean or Sam would have finished it for her, but since it wasn't too serious, they let her take her time.
Parked a several blocks away from the Mark Twain House, Sam nodded to Dean as a blue car pulled out of the driveway of the house and drove away. "Let's head in." Dean parked the Impala closer to the house, though not into its driveway, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. Opening up the trunk, Dean rummaged around until he pulled out another home-made EMF detector, handing it to Sara. Tossing Sam a sawed-off shotgun and grabbing one for himself, and closed the trunk.
With Dean leading the way, they headed inside once Sam picked the lock on the house, each of them turning on a flashlight. "We'll stick together. I know we're all safe from getting possessed, but we don't know how she's going to react once she realizes she can't get in."
"I think it will take us some time to even find her," Sam said quietly. "Especially if we're starting on the first floor."
"Or she can be standing at the end of the hall," Sara said, her flashlight already on the spirit of Susy Clemens, her EMF detector flashing.
Sam and Dean, who had been looking in the dining room turned around just in time to see Susy standing right in front of them, and the small child pushed them into the dining room, all four doors slamming shut just as they both fired their salt bullets.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, first trying to open the door before he slammed against it, trying to get it to open.
Sam tried to calm his brother, "Dean, let's just take a minute to thi-!"
"We don't have a minute!" Dean snapped, trying to get through a different door on the opposite end of the room, serving around the dining room table and chairs that were in his way. "That ghost is out there with Sara and God only knows what the hell is happening out there!"
A bit startled by his brother's show of worry about his daughter, Sam tried to open the other door in the room, ignoring the outside door. Dean would probably try it in a second anyway. Hearing another "Son of a bitch" and a different door getting slammed into, Sam knew his assumption had been correct.
A bit unnerved at being separated from her father and uncle, Sara kept her, now flickering, flashlight on Susy. "What do you want?"
"I want in," Susy stated.
Sara had a feeling that Susy didn't mean into her body, but into that one room, and she hoped to keep her talking, "Why?"
Susy blinked at her, the little girl's gaze looking a bit confused, and then upset, "I have to give Daddy something and I can't get into the room!"
"You do realize your dead right?" Sara questioned, adding, "All of your family is dead."
The spirit didn't seem to understand what Sara said, merely repeating, "I want in."
Sara tried a different approach, "I can get you in if you let my father and uncle out."
Susy shook her head, apparently understanding this time, "They won't let me in."
"What do you need to give your father?" Sara asked after a few minutes of silence.
Susy answered, "A gift, to let him know that I've missed him and that I didn't mean what I said…" She trailed off, lowering her head, and Sara wasn't sure she would continue until Susy added in a whisper, "I just want him to be proud of me." She lifted her head and gazed at Sara steadily, "I want in."
"Well you can't possess me," Sara stated, and she watched as the child's eyes hardened into rage, sending a chill up her spine, or perhaps that was just the temperature of the room dropping since she could see her breath. "But I can get you in." The temperature seemed to go up again, but not by much. "I know how you feel, wanting your father to be proud."
This seemed to appease Susy, since the dark expression left her face and she walked over to Sara and grabbed her wrist, half-guiding, half-dragging her up the stairs.
Dean and Sam were both focusing their attention on the main door that led back towards the staircase and where they knew Sara must be. The silence from the other room had both brothers worried that they were already too late to help her. They hadn't heard any shots fired, no screaming, no thuds, just…nothing, and that unnerved them more than anything.
Sam had a take a break, having been slamming against the door non-stop. Sitting in one of the chairs, he tried to get his brother's attention, "Dean!"
His brother didn't listen, merely continuing to ram the door, his jaw clenched and his green eyes blazing with fury or determination, Sam wasn't sure which one. Either way, he called out, a bit louder, "Dean!" When his brother continued to ram the door, Sam stood up and grabbed his shoulder before he could ram the door again, "Dean!"
"What?!" Dean demanded, turning his furious gaze on him.
Sam kept his tone as calm as possible, "We're not getting out of here. She sealed the room."
"So I'm just supposed to stop trying while my daughter is out there alone?" Dean shrugged off Sam's hand and rammed the door once again, and Sam caught a desperate look in his brother's eyes when he turned. I think I've misjudged you a bit Dean…you really do care…
Once upstairs, Susy led her to the bedroom door and said to Sara for the umpteenth time, "I want in."
"Yeah, yeah," Sara muttered, proving, once again, that she was definitely Dean's daughter.
Kneeling beside the door, she pulled out the lock-picking kit Bobby had given her before she'd left.
"What are you doing?" Susy demanded as Sara started to pick the lock.
"Trying to let you in," Sara stated, surprising calm considering that a ghost was holding her father and uncle hostage in the dining room downstairs while she tried to break into this locked bedroom across from the master bedroom.
"Why do you think your father's not proud of you?" Sara asked, buying for time. "I mean you wrote a biography about him, changed one of his books into a play. Why wouldn't he be proud of such a gifted daughter?"
Susy frowned at Sara, and she started to wonder if she'd been too obvious in attempt to stall for time. Apparently, she wasn't, since Susy answered, "I've been irritable, depressed, and ill. Not a daughter he has any reason to be proud of." The young girl pouted, eyes filling with tears. Sara was finding this experience with Susy to be not only disorienting, but she also felt sympathy for the young girl. Shaking her head, she reminded herself silently, Susy is a young woman, which is just freaky that her ghost is a kid. I need to focus on this lock though, before she starts getting pissed again.
After a few more minutes, Susy gradually growing more agitated, the lock clicked, and Sara had barely turned the knob when Susy shoved her out of the way, and she went sliding a few feet on her stomach, her lock picking tools going everywhere. "You're welcome," she grouched, pushing herself up off the floor.
Slamming against the door, Dean swore for the thousandth time as it refused to budge, much less yield. Going back across the room, having shoved the tables and chairs up against the walls, he was obviously going for a running start. As Dean got ready to charge the door again, Sam heard a faint click from all the doors. "Dean!" He tried to warn his brother.
Too late, Dean charged at a full sprint, slamming into the unlocked door and taking it off its hinges as he and tit crashed into the hallway.
"It's open," Sam stated helpfully as he walked calmly out of the room.
Dean glared up at him from his position on the broken door, "No kidding!" He pushed himself up and took a quick look around before he snapped, "She's obviously not down here so let's get upstairs!"
Following his brother, both of them had their sawed-off shotguns ready as they moved as quickly as possible up the stairs without forgoing caution.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Dean turned the corner to go down the hall that contained the one bedroom. As soon as he spotted Sara and noticed that she was safe and sound, he stopped, becoming more wary, wondering where the spirit was.
Sam didn't hesitate to go to Sara and make sure she was okay, noticing all the items that had been thrown out of the room. "Hey! You all right?"
"Yeah," Sara answered, putting away her lock-picking tools. "I'm not sure what she's doing though, or even what she's looking for."
"What do you mean?" Dean asked, having finally come over to make sure that Sara was all right.
Now Sam was frowning, two seconds ago he was flinging himself against a door, and now he's acting like nothing happened! Damn it, Dean! Why can't you just show her that you care?!
"She wanted something to give to her father," Sara answered her father. "She said it was in the room, which is why she kept saying that she wanted in. She didn't want in, as in possessing people. She wanted in this room."
A vase shattered as it was thrown against the wall, and Dean muttered, "It must be a pretty important gift!"
"To her, it is," Sara stated.
Dean's gaze had gone quickly over his daughter as soon as he'd been sure there was no true danger in the hallway and had walked over to her. He was relieved to see that she was okay, but he didn't let it show; especially not now. Not when the hunt wasn't finished. "So if we burn this item, that'll be the end of her?"
"Dad…" Sara knew she was about to get a scolding for what she was about to say, "Why don't we just let her give her gift to her father?"
Dean opened his mouth to say something when Sam stood up slowly, shotgun leveled. He turned as well, leveling his own shotgun, ready to fire, since the items were no longer being thrown out of the bedroom. He walked slowly forward until he stood next to his brother, ready for Susy to come out of the room.
Son of a bitch! Sara thought, before she rushed forward as she spotted the tip of Susy's black hair bow, she grabbed both muzzles of her father and uncle's shotguns, startling them both enough that they immediately lowered their weapons, their salt bullets going into the floor. While she managed to meet her uncle's slightly angry, but more curious gaze, she didn't dare meet her father's, knowing that he was probably pissed.
Sam frowned at Sara, wondering what had gotten into his niece, she's knows better than to do something so foolish…what happened while we were in that dining room? He kept his shotgun lowered, watching the white dress of Susy disappear into the master bedroom.
Pissed was not the word to describe Dean's current mood, but he decided he'd lecture his daughter later. Following Susy through the now open door into the master bedroom, he felt Sara grab his arm to keep him from firing his shotgun. Glaring at her for a second, though his daughter wouldn't meet his gaze, he looked into the room, and he lost all intention of firing the shotgun.
Coming in behind his brother and niece, Sam wondered why they didn't move out of the doorway, but he soon saw why.
The master bedroom was lit up bright as day, the green and yellow pattern of the wall was illuminated, even the fireplace near the door was bathed in the light. The source of the light sat on the hand carved bed Susy stood in front of it, and once their eyes adjusted to the light, they could see Samuel Clemens, or Mark Twain, sitting on the bed, his bushy white hair and mustache easily recognizable. His expression was warm and welcoming; though it was clear his focus was on his daughter.
Susy's back was too them, blocking their view of what she gave him, but Mark Twain gave her a smile and wrapped her in a hug, and Susy aged before their very eyes into a twenty-four year old young woman. As her father disappeared from sight, the room becoming very dark, they were all left blinking, trying to get used to the sudden lack of light.
Sara jumped as she heard a voice near her ear say as soft as a whisper, "May you always keep your youth…"
Dean and Sam leveled their shotguns again as Susy stood in front of them, but before they could fire any shots, she started to fade, and she said softly, "I'll be going now." Susy faded completely from sight.
Turning around to face Sam, Dean asked, "What just happened?"
"I think she moved on," Sam said. "Granted…I'm really not sure."
"Great," Dean muttered moodily.
"Seems like our job is done though," Sam reasoned. "Susy got what she wanted and gave it to the person, well, spirit, that she needed to. Even if she isn't gone-gone, she won't be causing any more problems."
"We can't just half-ass the job, Sam!" Dean snapped.
"Well we can't finish it here either," Sam countered. "If you really want to finish this we have to head to New York then!"
The brothers glared at each other for a few seconds, and Sara, still trying to avoid looking at her father asked quietly, "Can we leave then?"
"Yeah," Dean said and Sam nodded, glad that his brother seemed to be seeing sense as he led the way out of the room.
Sara made to follow her uncle, when her father grabbed her shoulder, "Sara." She knew she was in trouble just from his tone. Glancing over her shoulder, it took all her will power to meet his gaze. He obviously wasn't pleased, but she knew that he could be a lot angrier with her. She'd seen him angrier.
"You're not getting out of this without a lecture," Dean stated. "I want to talk with you once we're at the hotel, understand?"
"Yes, sir," Sara answered.
Dean released her shoulder and followed her down the stairs and out of the house. He made sure to leave quite a bit of money in the donation jar hoping to pay for at least some of the damages done to the house.
A half hour later, Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot and glanced in the rearview mirror, sighing half in exasperation, half in defeat. His daughter was sound asleep in the back seat and he really didn't have the heart to wake her up. He and Sam got out of the car at the same time, and while Sam went straight into the hotel, Dean opened up the driver's side back door and he gently lifted his daughter out. "I'll lecture you tomorrow."
After following Sam into the room and placing Sara on the bed, he headed back outside. He wasn't quite ready to rest, a lot of things were on his mind, mainly this hunt though and what they needed to do.
Sara woke up in the middle of the night, and she couldn't even explain why she was awake. Looking around groggily, the last thing she remembered was being in the Impala. Then it dawned on her that her father had wanted to speak with her after the hunt, crap! Hopping out of the bed, which she realized was pretty odd, since she'd been sleeping on the chair; she left the room and hurried outside.
She spotted her father right away; Dean was leaning against the driver's side door of the Impala, gazing out at the road, or perhaps something even further.
Timidly, Sara approached, unsure if her father was upset with her or not. She made sure to make plenty of noise so as to not startle him.
Dean glanced over his shoulder, "You can come over here. I'm not mad at you."
"You were mad at the Mark Twain House," Sara muttered as she leaned against the hood of the Impala, trying to keep some distance between herself and her, possibly, still angry father.
Pushing away from the Impala, Dean walked over to Sara and stood in front of her, "I'm still upset with what you did." Sara lowered her gaze, and Dean continued, "Not only was what you did foolish, but if you didn't grab those shotguns in the right spot, you could have lost your hands or had some serious injuries to them! Not to mention we now have to figure out if we just let it slide that we half-assed this job, or if we go to New York and burn those bodies! Not just of Susy, but of Mark Twain as well since it's clear his spirit is in that house too!"
"You always say 'finish what you start'," Sara said quietly.
Dean frowned, "That's another thing. You acted like you didn't want us to harm Susy, yet you know how dangerous spirits can be."
"I guess I just knew how she felt," Sara said quietly, still avoiding his gaze.
"What do you mean?" Dean questioned as he sat down next to her on the hood of the Impala.
"She just wanted her father to be proud of her, and she thought that whatever she gave to her father would make him proud," Sara answered, refusing to look at Dean.
He sighed, before he said, "Well then, if that's all that was about."
Sara looked up at him, confused.
"Here I am scolding you when you knew more about what was going on than me and Sammy put together," Dean chuckled. "I guess we won't go to New York…why split up a family, right?"
Something in her father's voice made her look up, and the look in his eyes caused her to stay silent. Whatever the look was though, it was gone in a flash and Dean stood up, "Come on, kiddo, let's head inside." Sara got off the car and started to follow him when Dean paused and looked over his shoulder at her, "Sara, what did you mean when you said you knew how Susy felt?"
"I guess…" Sara found that she really didn't want to answer, but once again, her promise to her father to not lie stayed off any thought of lying to him or bending the truth, "I want you to be proud of me, Dad…I guess…I guess I'm just not very good at it though…" She added silently, since I keep screwing up on hunts…
Dean stood still while Sara reluctantly caught up with him, and that's when he put his arm around her and pressed her against his side, a brief one armed hug. Sara sighed, glad that her father didn't seem angry with her anymore, and he didn't seem disappointed in her either. Reluctantly, she said, "Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"There's something else…" Her father gazed at her, waiting for her to continue. "Susy said to me before she appeared in the room that I should 'always keep my youth'…do you know what that means?"
"No," Dean answered. "Try asking your uncle in the morning. You know he's more into those kinds of things then I am."
"All right," Sara answered, and she noticed her father smile a bit as he held open the hotel door for her.
Once they were back in the room, Sara walked towards the recliner when Dean said, "You can sleep in the bed tonight, kiddo. I'll take the chair." When she made to protest, Dean sat down in the chair and smirked, "Go get some sleep, Sara."
Reluctantly, Sara got into the bed and crawled under the covers, "Night, Dad."
"Night," Dean said.
Sara added quietly, "I love you."
Dean smiled, though Sara couldn't see it in the dark, "I love you too, kiddo. Now get some sleep."
He sat in the chair for quite some time, listening to his daughter's breathing until it eventually slowed, signifying that she was asleep. Getting up, Dean walked over and kissed her forehead, "I am proud of you, kiddo."