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Hell House
"Hey, Mel?" I glanced up from the article clipping I was reading to meet Dean's eyes in the rearview. "You got that extra spoon from the gas station?" We'd stopped an hour or so before for gas and decided to pick up some food; I'd accidentally picked up two plastic, white spoons.
"Yeah," I answered, reaching into the bag sitting on the far end of the backseat where my legs were resting. I fished out the spoon and reached up to hand it to Dean, who had a devious glint in his eyes that made me smile. "Why?" In answer, he grinned and turned to a sleeping Sam, slowly placing the spoon in his mouth while I stifled a laugh with my hand. Dean flipped out his phone, taking a moment to focus it before snapping the picture and then turning back to the road and cranking up the music. Sam jerked awake, looking around in confusion and swatting the spoon out of his mouth while Dean and I laughed.
"Ha ha. Very funny," His sarcasm didn't do anything to stop our laughing.
"Sorry," Dean apologized. "Not a lot of scenery here in East Texas - you kind of got to make your own,"
"Man, we're not kids anymore, guys," Sam complained. "We're not gonna start that crap up again," I couldn't stop the small laugh as I remembered the last time they'd gotten into a prank war.
"Start what, Sammy?" I asked innocently, making him give me a look.
"That prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates," He argued passionately.
"What's the matter, Sammy?" Dean asked him, grinning.
"He's probably afraid of getting some Nair in his shampoo again," Dean laughed at the memory, and Sam glared at me in the rearview.
"All right. Just remember, you started it," Sam warned, glancing out the window and then back at Dean.
"Oh, bring it on, baldy," Dean quipped, making me laugh again.
"Where are we anyway?" Sam turned the attention to the car ride.
"A couple hours away from Richardson," I answered, glancing out the window at the trees that lined both sides of the road.
"All right, so, give us the lowdown," Dean and I had been waiting for Sammy to get up, so I could tell them together about what I'd learned. I'd found the case, so I figured I should be the one to fill them in.
"Okay, a month ago these kids go into this old house - locals say it's haunted," I began, leafing through the papers.
"Haunted by what?" Dean questioned.
"Well, a spirit that seems to really hate women…" I trailed off as an especially gruesome picture of a girl hanging caught my attention. "Really hate woman," I shook my head, looking back up at the boys and continuing, "The local story goes it hangs the girls up from the rafters of the old house. Right, so these kids go in as a joke. They go down to the cellar and see this dead girl hanging from the ceiling,"
"Did they get an I.D. off the body?" Sam asked, and I shook my head.
"There was no body," Both boys turned to look back at me in confusion. "When the cops arrived at the scene, the body had vanished. So, the cops are saying the kids were just playing jokes,"
"Well, maybe the cops are right," I shrugged at Dean's suggestion, something in my gut telling me that it was wrong.
"Yeah, I guess, but you should read their firsthand accounts. They seem pretty freaked out," I told them.
"Where'd you read these accounts?" Dean asked, and I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing he wouldn't like it.
"Well, we knew we would be passing through Texas," Sam took over, since he and I had been researching last night when Dean went for food. "We surfed some local… paranormal websites, and I found one,"
"And what's it called," Dean's voice held a touch of skepticism and more than a touch of mockery. Sam glanced back at me, and my eyes flicked to Dean and then back before I sighed heavily.
" ," Dean scoffed at my answer and rolled his eyes.
"Let me guess, streaming live out of mom's basement," I grinned at his joke and the truth behind it.
"Yeah, probably," Sam agreed, chuckling.
"Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit them in the pursqueeter," Dean's comment made me laugh again. He wasn't wrong. We'd dealt with websites like that before, and it was usually middle aged guys with no life who would die instantly if they ever saw something real.
"Look, we let Dad take off, which was a mistake, by the way, and now we don't know where the hell he is. So meantime, we got to find ourselves something to hunt," Sam had been reminding us of letting John leave every day for the two weeks since it had happened. "Mel thinks it's a hunt, so there's no harm checking it out,"
"Thank you, Sam," I gave Dean a pointed look that made him roll his eyes and sigh in defeat.
"All right. So, where do we find these kids?" I smiled as he gave in.
"Same place you always find kids in a town like this," Sam answered.
"Diner," I clarified, and Dean grinned widely at the thought of food. We sunk into a comfortable silence as we drove towards Richardson, and I glanced down at my phone, flipping it open and scrolling through my contacts until I came to Jez. My thumb hovered over the call button before finally I snapped the phone shut. I'd been meaning to call her for a while now, wanting to visit, but with everything that had been happening recently, I couldn't leave Dean and Sam.
Try as I might, I just couldn't shake that feeling. The feeling that something was about to happen; something that would change everything, and it scared me more than I could say. It was as if there was a giant, dark rain cloud looming over us that only I could see, and any second we could get struck by lightning. I was starting to feel that if I didn't visit Jez soon, I may never get the chance again.
"Here," Sam spoke an hour later as we saw the Rodeo Drive-In. Dean pulled in and parked before we got out and headed into the diner.
Turns out, three different witnesses equals three different firsthand accounts. The walls were painted black in one and red in the other. The girl, apparently, had red, black, and blonde hair. In one, she was still struggling, while the other two said that she was dead as a doornail when they found her. The only thing all three kids had agreed on was who brought them to the haunted house: Craig. That was why we were currently entering the music store where Craig worked.
"Gentlemen," I looked up as Craig greeted us. "Lady," He nodded to me, making my mouth twitch at his manners. "Can I help you with anything?" He put the albums he had been carrying away in their rightful place before turning to us.
"You're Craig Thurston, right?" I checked, making sure we had the right guy.
"I am," He answered shortly, turning back to sorting the albums.
"Oh. Well, we're reporters with the Dallas Morning News. I'm Dean. This is Mel and Sam," He looked a bit more interested upon hearing we were reporters.
"No way. Yeah, I'm a writer, too. I write for my school's lit magazine," He informed us, going around the stand to face us from the other side and put away an album.
"Well, good for you, Morrison," I nudged Dean as the boy looked up confusedly at us.
"We are writing an article on local hauntings, and we've heard that you know about one," I stepped in as Dean went through the albums. That caught the boy's full attention, and he stopped fiddling with the albums.
"You mean the hell house?" He questioned, and my eyebrows rose at the name.
"That's the one," Dean confirmed, and I didn't miss the kid's small, excited smile before it vanished.
"I didn't think there was anything to the story," He sounded almost as if he were defending himself as he shrugged.
"Why don't you tell us the story," Sam suggested, making the kid sigh.
"Well, supposedly back in the '30s, this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in the house with his six daughters. It was during the depression, his crops were failing, didn't have enough money to even feed his own children," Sam and I followed him back to the counter as Dean drifted off, looking at various records. "So I guess that's when he went off the deep end,"
"What did he do?" I asked the kid as Dean came back to join us.
"Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick rather than starve to death…so he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop, but he just strung them up, one after the other. And then when he was all finished, he turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl who goes inside,"
"Now where'd you hear all this?" Dean questioned, the disbelief in his voice almost tangible.
"My cousin Dana told me," There was a slight shift in his voice. He was lying. "I don't know where she heard it from. You got to realize I didn't believe this for a second," At least that part was true.
"But now you do," Sam didn't phrase it like a question.
"I don't know what the hell to think, man. Guys, I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to god, I don't want to go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?" The fear in his voice was real. I met Dean's eyes and knew he was convinced.
"Thanks," He glanced at the kid as he thanked him and we headed out of the store. The drive out to Mordechai's house was only twenty minutes, and I had to say, the house was classic small town haunted house. It was old and decrepit with a chilling air about it.
"Can't say I blame the kid," Sammy spoke as we walked through the mud towards it.
"Yeah, so much for curb appeal," Dean commented as I frowned at the house while taking the EMF reader out of my jacket. The needle shifted rapidly from danger zone to safety as Sam went to study the walls, see if he could get any signs.
"Not working," I tapped it, trying to get the needle to fix on a reading, but nothing helped. Finally, I gave up with an annoyed sigh as Sam came back.
"Get anything?" He questioned, and I held up the reader and shook it lightly.
"Yeah, this thing doesn't work," I told him, making him frown in confusion.
"Why?" He asked, and Dean nodded to the power lines.
"I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings," He explained, taking the EMF from me and shoving it into his coat pocket.
"Yeah, that'd do it," Sam mused as I turned my attention back to the house.
"Come on," I led them up the stairs and into the creepy house. Dean let out a low whistle as we took in the room while Sam shut the door. The walls were black and red and white candles were set on the tables and counters. Weird, satanic looking symbols were drawn onto the walls with what looked like spray paint.
"Looks like old man Murdoch was a bit of a tiger in his time," I turned to follow Dean's eyes, mine falling on the reverse cross.
"And after his time too. The reverse cross has been used by satanists for centuries," Sam commented, moving to another symbol. "But the sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the '60s,"
"Exactly why you never get laid," I hit Dean lightly on the arm as Sam gave him a look, "What? It's true," I rolled my eyes and walked towards the other side of the room with Dean following.
"What about this?" I wondered, studying what looked like a broken cross with a hook at the bottom. "Either of you've seen this before?" I glanced at Dean to see him frowning at the symbol.
"No," Sam answered, coming over to snap a picture of it.
"I have… somewhere," Dean tried to remember. I reached out to brush my finger along the hook; it came away red.
"Well, whatever it is, it was painted on," I glanced down at my crimson fingers before adding, "Recently, too,"
"I don't know, Mel," Dean turned from the wall to regard the rest of the room. "I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but the cops might be right about this one,"
"Yeah, maybe," Sam echoed, unconvinced. That's when I heard them. I mentally kicked myself for not hearing them sooner, but I'd been distracted by the room.
"Guys, we have company," I told them, my hand instinctively shooting out to grab Dean's arm and stop him walking. "Two guys," I jerked my chin to the right. "Down the hall," We made our way silently towards the door and pressed ourselves along the wall on either side of the door. I glanced up at Dean who was next to me, nearest to the door, and he nodded. The pushed open the door, and we rushed in only to jerk back in surprise as blindingly bright lights were shone in our faces.
"Ugh. Cut," I heard an irritated voice say. "Just a couple of humans," The scruffy looking man in cargo pants and an oversized jacket spoke in disappointment, and I raised my eyebrows as I took in him and his partner. In his hand, he held a video camera while his partner, who was smaller and quirkier looking held a massive flashlight that was the size of his head. Along with that, he was wearing a ridiculous vest that people see professional hikers or campers wear. Not someone who's hunting down a ghost. "What are you guys doing here?"
"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean returned the question.
"Uh, we belong here. We're professionals," He patronized us with words which I understood to mean 'We have no idea what we're doing, and you'll probably have to save our asses later on'.
"Professional what, exactly?" I questioned them, glancing at the camera in his hands.
"Paranormal investigators," The scruffy man with the glasses took something out of his man purse and held it out to us with a condescending air that made me want to laugh. "Here you go. Take a look at that," I took the paper from his hands and flipped it over so I could read it. I felt rather than saw Dean and Sam reading it over my shoulders as my eyes scanned the small page. Was this a joke?
"Oh, you got to be kidding me," Dean muttered as his eyes flicked up to look at the two grinning men standing before us.
"Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler," The smaller one gestured to himself, Harry, I'm guessing, and then to his friend, Ed.
" . That's yourwebsite?" I asked incredulously, looking from the paper to them and then back in disbelief. Now it was going to be doubly hard to convince Sam and Dean that this was in fact a hunt.
"Yeah," Ed stated proudly, wiggling his eyebrows at me, which left me trying very hard not to laugh. Dean stepped closer to them intimidatingly, and they seemed to shrink back as he was at least three inches taller than both of them.
"Yeah, yeah. We're huge fans," I took his arm and pulled him lightly past them, so we could check the rest of the rundown kitchen.
"And we know who you guys are, too," I froze at that, feeling Dean stiffen beside me as we turned back to face them.
"Oh, yeah?" Sam prompted with a note of warning in his voice that both Harry and Ed were completely oblivious to.
"Amateurs," Dean and I went back to looking through cabinets as Ed continued pompously. "Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills," I glanced back to share a smile with Sam that held two suppressed laughs.
"Yeah, so, if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here," The other one stated importantly.
"Yeah? What do you got so far?" Dean questioned with a slight note of mockery that made me stifle a laugh.
"Har, why don't you tell them about EMF?" My eyebrows raised as they said something that actually made sense.
"EMF?" Sam asked innocently.
"Electromagnetic Field," He answered, smirking at us. "Special Entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector like this bad boy right here," He informed us matter-of-factly, holding up his reader. "Whoa. Whoa," He muttered, looking at the device. "It's 2.8 mG. It's hot in here," They looked around, and I glanced at Dean, sharing a smile.
"Wow, that's impressive," I did my best to sound impressed while trying not to laugh.
"Yeah, it is," Harry grinned, and I raised my eyebrows again.
"Huh. So, have you guys ever really seen a ghost before? Or…" Dean let the rest of it hang as he looked at the two.
"Once," I focused on Ed, interested. "We were investigating this old house, and we saw a vase fall right off the table,"
"By itself," Harry added for good measure.
"Well, we - we didn't actually see it, but we heard it," Ed corrected. "And something like that, it - it changes you," I bit my lip hard, looking up at Dean, who was struggling with a smile.
"Yeah. I think I get the picture. We should go, let them get back to work. Mel?" His eyes flicked to me as he slipped an arm around my waist.
"Yeah. Clearly, the professionals have it handled," I nodded to them as we passed heading towards the door.
"Yes, handled," Ed laughed as we exited. "I'm sorry," I heard him apologize as we reached the front door. "That pot we smoked gave me the giggles," I couldn't hold back the laugh any longer as we left the house behind us. Dean and I dropped Sam off at the public library while Dean and I headed to the police station to check out if they had anything. Nothing. This hunt was growing colder and colder by the second. Dean and I went back to where we'd dropped Sam off.
"Hey," Sam greeted us, descending the steps of the public library.
"Hey," I answered. "Find anything?"
"Well, I couldn't find a Mordechai, but I did turn up a Martin Murdoch, who lived in that house in the '30s. He did have children, but only two of them, both boys. There was no record he ever killed anyone," Sam informed us. "What about the two of you?"
"Those kids didn't give a clear description of the dead girl, but we did hit up the police station. No matching missing persons - it's like she never existed. Guys, come on, we did our digging. This one's a bust. For all we know, those hellhound boys made up the whole thing," I looked around as Dean reached for his keys to the Impala before returning my gaze across the car to him. I stood on the passenger's side next to Sammy as Dean reasoned with us, but we all knew he was talking mostly to me. I was the one that had found this case, and I was the one who still thought it was a case, even now.
"Okay, fine," I finally agreed reluctantly; though I still felt there was a case here, with no evidence to back me up, I couldn't really ask everybody to check out something that didn't exist.
"I say we find ourselves a bar and some beers and leave the legends to the locals," He opened the driver's door and got in while I reached for the passenger's door handle. Before I could open it, Sam caught my wrist, stopping me and making me look at him questioningly. He just shook his head with a mischievous smile that told me all I needed to know. Dean turned the ignition and latino music blasted from the speakers, making him jerk back and fumble for the volume dial as the rest of the car went on maximum as well. "What the…" He trailed off as he scrambled to turn everything off while Sam started laughing, and I joined in a bit, opening the door and getting in. Sam licked his finger and then pointed it at himself as I rolled my eyes, still laughing.
"That's all you got? That's weak," Dean told him. "That is bush-league," He turned his gaze from the backseat to me. "You knew about this?" I shook my head, holding up my hands in surrender.
"I'm not getting involved," I didn't like the way the boys grinned at my words. Last time this had happened, I'd had to end it. By pranking them both. The boys didn't argue with me as they remembered what I'd done. I'd baked them both pancakes, which was rare for me at the time but not unheard of. Well, I also added some Tabasco sauce. More than a little. Sam had been thirty minutes late for school.
Dean, Sam, and I approached the creepy, old house with confidence. We'd learned long ago that if you gave off the impression that you were supposed to be there, cops were less likely to kick you out. We approached the middle aged man who was talking to a police officer; the officer left just as we arrived.
"What happened?" Dean asked as my eyes followed the black body bag that was lying on a stretcher being rolled away.
"Couple of cops say that poor girl hung herself in the house," He informed us in low tones, sounding sorry.
"Suicide, really?" I questioned in disbelief, shooting a pointed look at the boys standing to my left.
"Yeah," He sounded as disbelieving as I did as he spoke his next words. "She was a straight A student with a full ride to U.T., too. It just don't make sense," He walked away from us, and Dean turned to face Sam and I as he looked around.
"So, I think we should stay a bit longer," I spoke up, smiling sightly. "What do you think?" My eyes flicked to Dean and then Sam and then back to Dean. "What do you think?"
"I think maybe we missed something," Dean agreed begrudgingly, and my mouth twitched up in a grim smile.
"Yeah, I think so too," Sam seconded as we turned from the crime scene and made our way back to the car. "So, what now?"
"Wait till it's dark, and then we come back," I told them as we reached the car. I didn't mention the second part of my plan: I would go in alone. Supposedly, the ghost targeted young women, meaning it would come after me.
"Right, at least we can get a look at the thing," I nodded in agreement with Dean's words as I slid into the passenger's seat, and we pulled away from the scene. It took us a short ten minutes to get to our motel, and Sam headed to his room to research more about the Mordechai house while Dean and I headed back to our room with a stack of books that Sam had checked out for us to read. Well, for me to read. Dean opened the room, and I set down the books on the table.
"What do we need to read about?" Dean asked a fair question. I held up the first book in the pile, so it faced him.
"Paranormal sitings in Texas," I raised my eyebrows as Dean took the book from me and didn't bother flipping through it as he threw it carelessly on a chair.
"Sammy can do the reading," I felt myself beginning to smile as he placed his hands against the table on either side of my waist. "I had something else in mind,"
"Like what?" I raised my eyebrow, and Dean smirked.
-3rd person (a couple hours later)-
"We can't," Sam's breathed, trying to ignore how much his body was screaming at him to say yes. It had taken everything in him to pull away from her. "We can't," He repeated as much to convince himself as the woman gazing up at him through her lashes.
"I want to," She whispered, making a shiver run through his body as her hot breath caressed his cheek. She reached up, brushing her lips against his lightly, and his whole being seemed to melt into the kiss. "Dean…" He managed to pull away, but they're faces were still only an inch apart. He could feel her forehead against his as he kept his eyes closed, focusing on that one word.
"Dean's not here," Melody Scott pressed her lips against Sam's harshly again, and this time he gave in. Her dainty fingers undid his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders, and their lips parted briefly as her shirt passed over her head before getting tossed aside. Her back hit the wall, and he looked down at her. Her eyes were a swirl of yellow. He jerked back, and her lips pulled into a pout. "What's wrong, Sammy? Isn't this what you've wanted since you were in middle school?" He backed away from her, and she cocked her head, studying him with those yellow eyes. "It could be real, you know,"
"This is a dream," Sam realized, looking wildly around the room as if there would be a glowing red exit sign somewhere.
"Very good," Demon Mel clapped mockingly. "Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you,"
"What do you want?" Sam snapped at the thing, his eyes still darting around.
"I've got plans for you," The thing that looked like Mel told him as if it were obvious.
"What are you?" It just smiled before snapping it's fingers.
Sam's head shot upright off the laptop it had been resting on, and his head snapped around to study the room franticly only to find he was alone. He frowned as his shaky breathing and racing heart slowed to their normal pace.
"What the hell?" He muttered, glancing at the door before returning to his laptop, but somehow, he couldn't shake those eyes out of his mind. Before he could get back to his research, there was a knock on the door. Stealthily, he grabbed the knife from behind his laptop and then moved to the door and opened it slowly to reveal Mel standing there.
"Hey," She brushed past him and into the room, making him shut the door behind her and turn to face the woman who was holding a rather thick book in her hands. "So, I think I may have found…" She trailed off as she took in his appearance. "What happened to you?" The genuine concern in her voice was enough to convince Sam he must look pretty disheveled.
"Nothing," He moved past her to sit in the seat he'd been in before. "What'd you find?" He glanced at the clock on the nightstand that read 8:34 in glowing red letters.
"Um," She frowned for a moment, deciding whether to press him for answers before finally shaking it off. "Okay, you know how spirits can be attached to objects? Well, I was thinking maybe someone brought something that was haunted into the house and lost it there,"
"That would explain why there's no history of a Mordechai in the records," Sam realized, nodding as it made sense. Mel set the book down in front of him and leaned on the table next to him. She was close enough that he could smell her perfume, and he shifted away to clear his head, making her frown in confusion at him.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He offered her a strained smile.
"Yeah, just tired," It wasn't a lie, and she seemed to accept it, nodding.
"Well, we did get a grand total of four hours of sleep last night," They'd gone back to the bar last night after deciding the hunt was just a prank by a couple of kids. Dean and Mel had gone back at around two while Sam had gone a little earlier. Then, Mel had been called by the sheriff informing her that there had been a death at the house, and they'd all gone to check it out.
"We should be leaving soon," Sam stood, walking around her to the window. "It's dark outside already," She nodded, and Sam could tell that she still felt something was off. Thankfully, she left it alone and shrugged to herself.
"I'll wake Dean," Sam waited until she'd shut the door behind her to slump into the chair and put his head in his hands.
-1st person-
"What the hell?" I muttered as I left Sammy's room. He'd been weird, jumpy, and stiff the entire time I'd been there. Must've been another nightmare. I opened the door to my room and walked in, shutting it behind me.
"Hey," My eyes found Dean, who was already up with his jeans on. I tossed him his navy shirt from where it'd been haphazardly thrown over the chair, and he grinned at me before glancing at the clock. "We leaving soon?"
"Yeah, Sam's ready," I couldn't help the small frown that tugged at my lips as I said his name. What had been up with him?
"Are you okay?" I grabbed my grey jacket and offered Dean a small smile and a sigh.
"I'm worried about him," I confessed, pulling on the jacket, and feeling the comforting weight of Dean's arms wrapping around my waist. "I think he had another nightmare,"
"Sam's a tough kid. He'll be fine," I turned my head to look at him and saw the protective gleam in his eyes before he lowered his lips to mine. I pulled away, smiling slightly as I stepped out of Dean's arms.
"Come on. Sam's probably waiting," Dean grabbed his jacket before we took off. Dean parked a minute from the house, and we walked the rest of the way, ducking behind some bushes to avoid the cops seeing.
"I guess the cops don't want anymore kids screwing around in there," Sam pointed out, and I nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, but we still got to get in there," Suddenly, I heard rustling, and my hand flew to Dean's arm as I turned slightly to scan the trees. "I don't believe it," Dean muttered at the same time I caught sight of who it was and my jaw almost hit the floor.
"Perfect," I rolled my eyes as I spoke the word, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "Wait, that's it," My tone changed drastically as I got an idea, and I looked at Dean, who nodded in understanding.
"Who you gonna call?" Dean cupped his hand around his mouth as he yelled, and I smiled at his choice of distraction.
"Stop! Freeze!" The police shouted at a painfully visible Ed and Harry, who began running away while we hurried towards the house. Dean pushed the door open and Sam and I ran in before he shut it behind us. Sam dumped the bag of weapons on the ground and unzipped as I knelt next to him, handing a flashlight to Dean before taking a shotgun. The beam of Dean's flashlight landed on a symbol painted in red on the wall as Sam and I stood next to him.
"Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me," Dean wracked his brain while I scanned the dark room.
"We don't have much time until the cops come back," I whispered, glancing at the door and then back at the symbol.
"She's right. Come on," Sam added, leading us down the stairs to the basement. I couldn't see that well in the dark room, even with Dean's flashlight beam sweeping around, so I focused on my hearing instead. Nothing. Dean picked up a jar, and held it in front of us, shining the light on it and illuminating the light red contents. My face twisted with disgust.
"Hey, Sam, I dare you to take a swig of this stuff," Sam looked at Dean and then at me and then back at Dean, confusion clear on his face.
"The hell would I do that for?" I laughed softly at his response, and Dean shrugged turning back to the jar.
"I double dare you," I laughed again before I heard a creaking, and my head snapped up, the laughter dying in my throat. Dean replaced the jar and followed me as I made my way quickly and silently to the green, wooden closet that was creaking. We aimed the shotguns at the door as Sam opened it. Rats. Dean groaned in revulsion as one ran over his foot, and I stepped back to avoid it.
"I hate rats," He muttered.
"Agreed," I stated, swallowing my disgust.
"You two'd rather it was a ghost?" Sam pointed out, and I shrugged.
"Yes," Dean answered for both of us while I frowned as I heard a faint growling.
"Guys, behind you!" I snapped the warning just as the burly ghost raised what looked like an axe. There was a loud bang as Dean shot it and then another as I did. The rock salt didn't seem to be having any affect at all on the thing. Finally, it disappeared into a puff of black smoke.
"What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?" Sam snapped as I tried to hear it.
"I don't know," I couldn't hear anything, and that scared me more than words could describe.
"We need to get out of here," I spoke quickly, and Dean lowered the gun, pushing me in front of him as we ran for the stairs. Dean let out a yell of surprise followed by a giant crash. "Dean!" I stopped short, and scrambled back towards Dean who was on the floor. Suddenly, I felt a cold hand tight around my ankle, and I was being dragged backwards along the ground. I kicked out with my left foot, and it collided with something surprisingly solid. I spun on the ground, my hands already pushing me into sitting position.
"Mel!" I heard Dean yell my name as the ghost raised it's axe and slashed downward. It's slash was cut short as it hit the shotgun that Sam held up as he stood in front of me. "Sam!" I cried his name as I used my feet to push myself backward and grab the shotgun I'd dropped. The strength of the spirit was enough to shove Sam backward, and the ghost slammed his axe into the electrical box, sending sparks flying before it retreated up the stairs. My head shot up as I heard voices from upstairs.
"We've lost the cops. Let's find our center and get some work done, okay?" Unfortunately, I knew that voice.
"Shit," I swore as I scrambled to my feet and ran up the stairs after the ghost with Dean and Sam following close behind me. There was a sound that was somewhere between a roar and a hiss, and then we were out the door. Sam was so busy looking back that he didn't see the yellow caution tape and ran full speed into it, his flailing arms catching me, and I grabbed Dean to try to get my balance back, which resulted in all three of us on the ground in front of the house.
"Get that damn thing out of my face," Dean snapped at Ed as he pulled me to my feet, and we hurried past the startled cameramen.
"Run, you idiots!" I yelled, grabbing the nearest one's jacket and yanking him along after us. After a moment, I gave up and let Dean drag me away from the two morons who were gawking at the doorway where the ghost seemed to be growling at them.
"Sweet Lord," Ed began.
"Of the Rings," The other finished. "Run!" He screamed. I slammed the passenger door behind me and closed my eyes to focus on the geeks that we'd left behind.
"Come on, let's go," I heard a gruff voice say and then a metallic clink of handcuffs being snapped on. A sigh of relief escaped me.
"They're okay," I let my hearing return to normal, glancing at Dean, who had his eyes on the road. Silence met my words as we all replayed what had happened in there. Dean pulled into the parking lot, and we went to Sam's room. Dean grabbed the mini notepad from the nightstand and began drawing the symbol from earlier while Sam sat down and opened his laptop. I sat across from him and flipped through the pages he'd marked in various books. Nothing about being immune to rock salt. The hours ticked by as we sat in silence, and I could feel my eyes beginning to shut against my will. I was the only one who hadn't had slept for a full day, and I was beginning to feel the affects.
"What the hell is this symbol?" I glanced up from the books where the words seemed to be swimming on the page. "It's bugging the hell out of me. This whole damn job's bugging me. I thought the legend said that Mordechai only goes after girls,"
"That is what it says," I agreed, massaging my temples lightly.
"RIght. Well, that explains why he went after you and Sam, but why me," I offered Dean a tired smile at the joke while Sam just glared at his screen.
"Hilarious," He replied in a monotone. "Legend also says he hung himself, but you see those slit wrists?"
"Yeah, and the axe, too. It said he hung the girls. Not hacked them," I added, and Sam nodded.
"Ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?" Sam scrolled on his computer as he talked.
"His mood keeps changing," Dean realized.
"Exactly. I'm telling you, the way the story goes-" Sam stopped short suddenly, and my eyes flicked up to focus on his surprised face. "Wait a minute,"
"What happened?" I questioned, curious.
"Someone added a new posting to the hellhound site. Listen to this, 'They say Mordechai Murdoch was really a satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity. Where the hell is this going?" Sam went back to looking at the site, and I glanced at Dean who was frowning at the paper in his hands. Rising from my seat, I went over to sit on the bed next to him, and he wrapped an arm around my waist without looking away from the paper.
"You could've seen it in a book somewhere," I suggested, and Sam snorted incredulously, making me throw him a look. "Website, maybe? What about one of the kids that we talked too? They could've-"
"That's it," Dean shot into sitting position before turning and pressing his lips to mine briefly. "Mels, you're a genius," He grinned with boyish excitement that made me smile back. "I think I just figured out where it all started. Come on," Sam glanced at me questioningly, and I gave him a shrug before following Dean to the car. He parked outside of the music shop where Craig worked, and we walked in just as Craig was going through a row of records.
"Hey, Craig? Remember us?" Dean called to him, making him stop, and I could almost feel the annoyance coming off of him as he turned slightly to face us.
"Look, I'm really not in the mood to answer any more of your questions, okay?" He sounded as exhausted as I felt right now.
"Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all," Dean assured him, flicking through the albums before he found the one he was looking for. He pulled it out before turning back to the kid, who was now facing away from us. "You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then I realized it doesn't mean anything," We approached Craig as Dean spoke. "It's a logo for Blue Oyster Cult. Tell me, Craig, you into B.O.C, or just scaring the hell out of people?" Craig took the record and flipped it over, looking at the symbol on the back. "Why don't you tell us about that house - without lying through your ass this time?" Finally, he sighed and leaned against the counter.
"All right. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU. I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do, so I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted, so we painted symbols on the walls, some from albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. Then we found out this guy Murdoch used to live there, so we made up some story to go along with that. So, they told people who told other people, and then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of it's own. I mean, I thought it was funny at first, but… now that girl's dead. It was just a joke, you know? I mean, none of it was real. We made the whole thing up. I swear," He looked desperately at us, and I nodded in understanding.
"All right," We turned around and began walking towards the door as Dean lowered his voice to speak to us. "If none of it was real, how the hell do you explain Mordechai?" After that, we went back to the motel, and I took a shower and changed into jeans and a tank top and jacket before going to Sam's room to find him in the shower.
"Sam, I'm going to do some research!" I called to the kid, letting him know I was in the room before I sat in front of his laptop.
"Where's Dean?" He asked, and I shrugged even though he couldn't see me. It wasn't like I could tell him 'Dean went out to the prank store to by itching powder for your clothes'.
"Dean's not here," I replied instead, and I heard a clatter from the bathroom. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, fine," He answered hurriedly.
"Okay, so, got any leads?" I asked, more to stop him from asking about Dean again than anything.
"Yeah, I have a theory. What if Mordechai is a Tulpa?" My eyes widened slightly at the idea.
"Tulpa?As in the tibetan thought form?" I questioned. "Makes sense," Before Sam could reply, Dean opened the door and came in.
"Sam, I'm back!" He called, going straight for the clothes, and making me press a hand to my lips to smother my laugh.
"Where were you?" He asked, and Dean winked at me as he sprinkled the powder onto Sam's clothes.
"Oh, you know, out," Dean responded vaguely.
"So I had a theory about Mordechai. What if it's a Tulpa?" The water shut off, and I mouthed 'hurry up' to Dean, who just grinned.
"Yeah, a Tibetan thought form," Sam came out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, and Dean turned, hiding the pouch behind his back.
"Yeah, I know what a Tulpa is," He scratched the back of his head, and I got up, grabbing Sam's clothes and tossing them to him.
"Get dressed, and then we'll go eat," I told them both.
"Oh, good. I'm starved," Dean agreed with a smile as Sam retreated back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Dean turned and crushed his lips to mine, making me laugh softly. "You are amazing," Sam came out of the shower and grabbed his phone off the table before we headed off. We reached the diner in a couple of minutes, and I saved us a table while they went to the counter to oder three coffees.
"Here you go, gents," I glanced up as Dean and Sam were handed the cups. Dean thanked the man before bringing them to the table, and I took an extra large gulp of the coffee. I glanced at Sam who was shifting and arching his back, and I bit my lip to hide a grin.
"Dude what's your problem?" Dean asked him as if he didn't know.
"Nothing. I'm fine," He shifted again, scratching his arm.
"Yeah?" I asked skeptically, raising my eyebrows. "You don't look fine,"
"Yeah, well I am," He retorted a bit stiffly, making me struggle to hide my grin.
"All right, so keep going. What about these Tulpas?" Dean prompted him.
"Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. A group of monks visualize a golem in their heads. They meditate on it so hard, that they bring the thing to life out of thin air," My eyebrows rose; I'd already heard the story and it seemed equally impossible the second time around.
"And… you think that… all those people on the web…" I let the sentence hang, trying to wrap my head around it, and Sam nodded in agreement.
"If twenty monks could bring a golem to life, imagine what 10,000 web servers could do. I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai," Sam opened his laptop while Dean glanced at me and grinned, probably not paying attention to one word Sam was saying. "Then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard,"
"Okay, wait a second, are you two trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?" Sam stretched to scratch his back with a frown on his face.
"Yeah, it makes sense," I frowned at my own statement. "In a weird sort of way," I added.
"People believe in Santa Claus, how come I don't see Mel in - ow!" He cut off as I cuffed him in the back of the head. Sam let out a small laugh before turning back to his laptop.
"'Cause you're a bad person and cause of this," He turned the laptop to face us. "That's a Tibetan spirit sigil on the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet you they painted this, not even knowing what it was. Now that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass.
"So people are on those idiots' website, and they stare at the symbol and think about Mordechai," I gathered, and Sam nodded.
"I mean, I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life," He told us, shrugging. It was a good idea. The best we've had so far.
"It would explain why it keeps changing," Dean agreed.
"And why the rock salt doesn't work," I added, tying up the loose ends.
"Right - as the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai, himself, changes, like a game of telephone," Sam informed us.
"Okay, so why don't we just get this spirit sigil-thingy off the wall and off the website?" Dean asked.
"Because it's not that simple," I told him, taking over for Sam. "Once the Tulpa's formed, they can't be erased by just smashing the symbol,"
"Great," Dean grumbled. "All right, so if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?"
"Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us," Sam told us, turning back to the laptop. "Check out their home page," There was a video of that night. "Since they posted the video, the number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone,"
"Huh. I got an idea. Come on," Sam shut the laptop and shoved it in his bag as I stood with my coffee in hand.
"Where are we going?" I questioned as Sam got his stuff together.
"Gonna find a copy store," Dean stated as Sam shifted again. I was almost starting to feel bad for him.
"Man, I think I'm allergic to the soap or something," Dean just looked innocently confused, but I couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled in my throat. Dean glanced at me before finally dropping the innocent facade and laughing along. Sam turned his wide eyes on him. "You did this?" Dean just kept on laughing as we walked away. "You're a friggin' jerk," Sam yelled after us.
"Oh, yeah," Dean grinned as we made our way back to the Impala.
"You know he's going to get you back for that," I leaned against the Impala, and Dean grinned, kissing me lightly before opening the door.
"Come on. What's he gonna do?" I just shook my head at his arrogance.
Dean knocked loudly on the door of the RV that belonged to Ed and Harry. I heard a slight scream from inside and rolled my eyes; they were probably still freaked from yesterday.
"Who is it?" A voice that belonged to Harry called out tensely.
"Come on out here, guys. We hear you in there," Dean's voice carried annoyance and frustration as the door swung open to reveal the two masterminds behind Mordechai. "Look at that. Action figures in their original packaging - what a shocker," I elbowed him lightly, offering the two boys a smile.
"What he means is, we need to talk to you," I covered for Dean, and the two stepped out of the RV and onto the grass.
"Yeah, um, sorry. We're a little busy right now," I bit back the snarky comment that was rising in my throat at Ed's pompous attitude.
"Okay, well, we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website," Dean stated, making Ed laugh fakery.
"You know," He turned to Harry. "These guys get us busted last night. We spend the night in a holding cell,"
"I had to pee in front of people, and I get stage fright," Harry announced to us unnecessarily.
"Why should we trust you?" Ed asked a good question, looking from Dean to me to Sam.
"Look, you may not trust us, but you can trust yourselves. And you know what you saw in that house yesterday night. We all know what's in that house, okay? But because of your websites they're thousands of people who know it, too, which means people are going to keep winding up dead. We're just asking you to shut down your website," Both boys hesitated a moment after I'd finished.
"We're sorry. I would if I could, but we've got fans out there. People want to hear about that house. You know how it is, darling," He did what I think was a wink, and even went so far as to pick up a lock of my hair that had been resting on my shoulder. Before I could take a step back, Dean grabbed his wrist and stepped forward to loom over the shorter man.
"One, if either of you ever touch her again I will kill you. Two, people are going to get hurt if you keep up that website. We need you to take it down," Both boys looked intimidated, and Ed took a step back, which seemed to gain him some of his confidence back.
"Dean, come on," I took his arm and pulled him back a step.
"Ed, maybe they have a point," Harry started, but Ed wouldn't hear it.
"No, no," Ed cut him off. "We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth," Ed glanced at me as he spoke, and his last words made Dean laugh. I knew that laugh all too well. Dean was getting pissed.
"Well, I have an obligation to kick both your -"
"Dean!" I cut him off, slipping my hand into his and lacing our fingers together. I squeezed his hand lightly, silently telling him not to kill the two of them; we needed them for his plan to work.
"She's right, man, come on. These guys - you could probably bitch-slap both of them," The two scoffed at Sam's words. "I could probably even tell them that thing about Mordechai, but they're still not gonna help us,"
"Yeah, let's just go," Sam nodded in agreement with my words, and he turned and began walking away.
"Yeah, you're right," Dean kept his hand in mine as we walked away.
"What did you say about - hold on a second here," They followed us, desperate for information. This was almost too easy.
"Yeah, what thing about Mordechai?"Harry questioned.
"Don't tell them, Sam," We didn't break pace as Dean told his brother not to do it.
"But if they agree to shut down their website," I tried to argue, glancing back at the creators of .
"They're not gonna do it. You said so yourselves," Dean shook his head, and I hid a smile.
"No, wait, wait. Don't listen to him, okay? We'll do it," Ed tried, and we slowed before stopping entirely and facing each other. I glanced up at Dean before looking at Sam.
"It's a secret, guys," Dean told us, and my eyes flicked back to narrow at Ed and Harry before I nodded at Sam.
"Look, it is a pretty big deal, alright, and it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down," Sam pointed at them to emphasize his point.
"Totally," Ed lied through his teeth. Dean took out the wrinkled piece of paper from his jacket pocket and unfolded it.
"It's a death certificate from the '30s. We got it at the library. Now, according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gun shot wound to the head," Sam explained.
"That's right. No hanging or cutting involved," I smiled at the two stunned boys.
"He shot himself?" Harry asked in excited shock.
"Yep with a .45 pistol. To this day, they say he's terrified of them," Sam told the two.
"As a matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a .45 loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, you'd kill the son of a bitch," Ed turned, and slowly started walking back while his partner threw discretion to the wind and headed for the RV in a wild sprint. We stopped at the diner on the way back to the motel to review what we had so far. Dean pulled on the string again causing a round of manacle laughter from the puppet like thing mounted on the wall. Sam pulled the string again, stopping the noise.
"If you pull that string one more time, I'm going to kill you," Dean studied Sam for a moment before pulling on the string again to see what he'd do. Sam snatched the string and fixed his brother with a glare while Dean laughed.
"Come on, man," Dean tried to lighten Sam's mood. "You need more laughter in your life, you know?" Sam took a sip of his beer before setting it back down on the table.
"He's got a point, Sam. You are pretty tense lately," I looked up from where I was busy stealing Dean's fries. "Anyway, is it up yet?" Sam turned the laptop to face us.
"'We have learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdoch has a fatal fear of firearms,'" Dean read from the article before looking up at Sammy. "All right, so how long do we wait?"
"Long enough for it to spread and everybody to read it," I answered for Sam.
"Yeah, I figure by nightfall the legend should change and iron rounds should work on the sucker," He held out his beer to us, and Dean and I clinked our bottles with his before drinking. That's when I noticed Sam trying not to laugh. I set down my beer and frowned at him for a moment, glancing at Dean as he set down his… or tried to. The bottle stuck to his hand. I pressed my lips together and failed at holding in a laugh.
"You didn't," Dean looked at his brother with a surprised slightly horrified expression.
"Oh, I did," Sam held up the super glue he used and continued laughing, pulling the string for the puppet to laugh too, and I couldn't help laughing along. It was good to see Sam loosen up for once. Sam paid and got up, heading towards the car.
"Come on," I pulled Dean and the beer that was still stuck to his hand up from the booth and headed towards the car. "I'll get it off when we get back to the motel," I answered his unasked question as I fished the keys out of his jacket pocket. "I'll drive," I slid into the driver's seat while Dean rode passenger back to the motel.
I cocked the gun as Sam opened the door and Dean and rushed in as he shut it behind us. I still couldn't believe that he had stolen that puppet from the restaurant. I mean, who does that? Still, it was a pretty ingenious plan to distract the officers.
"I barely have any skin left on my palm," Dean complained. It had taken me almost an hour to peel that beer off of his hand. As far as pranks go, that was pretty extreme. Well, extreme for Sammy.
"I'm not touching that line with a ten foot pole," Sam answered, and I grinned slightly despite our current situation.
"Smart," I commented as we made our way through the house. Dean fixed his gun on the doorway through which we could hear noise.
"Well, you think old Mordechai is home?" I focused all my attention on the doorway and frowned as the sound behind it disappeared.
"I'm not sure," I muttered, trying to concentrate harder.
"Me neither," I whirled, cruising myself for not hearing them enter. "Whoa! Whoa, whoa, hey!" They held up their hands in surrender.
"What the hell are you trying to do, get yourself killed?" Sam snapped at them in annoyance.
"We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?" Ed defended himself and his partner as I heard the noise start up again.
"Guys," I turned my gun back on the doorway as the clink of sharpening metal became clearer and clearer.
"Uh, guys, you want to open that door for us?" Ed tried, and I threw him a withering look.
"Why don't you?" Dean questioned, knowing the guy was scared out of his mind. There was a clang and then the monster burst through the door, and I pulled the trigger. I kept firing until the ghost vanished.
"Wait a minute. Wait, is he gone? Oh, he's gone," I tried to zone out the two as I checked the house for any sign of him.
"Harry!" I spun just in time to see Mordechai whack the camera out of Harry's hands with the ax. Harry fell to the floor, and Murdoch disappeared. I went over and pulled him up roughly. This made no sense.
"What the hell is going on?" I asked, frowning and glancing at Sam. "This was supposed to work,"
"Didn't you guys post that B.S. story we gave you?" Dean snapped at the two.
"Of course we did," Ed answered without thinking.
"Yeah, but then our server crashed," Harry added, and I closed my eyes in frustration. Can't something just go right for once.
"So it didn't take. So these guns don't work," Dean summed up stormily.
"Uh, yeah," Ed agreed, and I let out a huff of annoyance.
"Great. Mel, Sam, any ideas?" I just looked back at him and shook my head.
"We are getting out of here," Harry said the first sensible thing either of them had said in the short time I'd known them.
"Yeah," Ed agreed, remaining where he was standing until Harry grabbed him and dragged him along behind him towards the door. Suddenly, there was a scream, and I heard them running. Without a thought, I ran after them.
"Hey!" Sam yelled at the thing, dropping his gun and opening his arms wide whilst looking at the Tulpa. "Come and get it, you son of a bitch," Sam ducked as Murdoch took a swing at him. I turned and sprinted back, nearly running straight into Dean.
"Dean, I have an idea. We need to burn down the house," Dean's eyes widened as he caught on.
"Right, that last entry said he was trapped in the house so if we burn it down…" I nodded, turning back as I heard Sam's grunt of pain. "You get Sam; I'll do the burning," Without a word I grabbed a spray can and took the lighter out of my jeans and ran back to see Mordechai choking Sam with the wood of his ax.
"Hey!" I hit the spray can and lit it up. Mordechai gave a satisfying scream and disappeared. I helped Dean out of the smaller room, and he leaned against the wall, panting. "Listen, we can't kill Mordechai, but we can destroy the house. Burn it down. Dean!" Dean appeared at my left with a lighter and grinned as he threw it to the ground, lighting up the room we were just in. We sprinted out of the house and a safe enough distance away in the trees where we stopped and glanced back at the burning house.
"That's your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?" He yelled above the roar of the fire.
"Well, no one will go in anymore," Dean defended my plan.
"Mordechai can't haunt a house if there is no house," I pointed out, and I could see Sam was warming to the idea.
"It's fast and dirty, but it works," Dean shrugged.
"But what if the legend changes again, and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?" Sam questioned.
"Then we come back, but the way I see it, those two might just shut down their website after all this," I gestured to the flaming house to prove my point, and Sam nodded slightly.
"Kind of makes you wonder," Sam mused, looking at the house. "Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just cause people believed in them?"
"Gentlemen," I lifted my head from where it had been resting on Dean's shoulder, and pushed off the table. "And lady," They both nodded to me, and I offered them a small smile.
"Should we tell them?" Harry asked Ed, and I hid a smile.
"You might as well know, you know, they're just gonna read about it in the trades," We followed Harry and Ed as Ed raised his voice, so we could hear properly. "We got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer,"
"Oh, yeah? Wrong number?" I let out a tired laugh.
"No, smartass. She read all about the hell house on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights, maybe even have us write it," He set the bag of groceries down in his car before turning to us.
"And create the RPG," I raised my eyes, pretending to be impressed.
"The what?" Dean asked, miffed.
"Role-playing game," Harry explained, looking away.
"Right," Dean glanced at me, raising his eyebrows. "Of course,"
"It's a little lingo for you. Anywho, excuse us. We're off to la-la land," Ed got into the driver's seat while Harry got into the passenger's.
"Well, congratulations. That's awesome for you both. We're happy for you," I smiled widely at them.
"Yeah, best of luck to you," Dean added.
"Oh, yeah, luck's got nothing to do with it. It's about talent, you know - sheer, unabashed talent," Ed winked and nodded to me, taking off his glasses. "See you 'round" Dean took a step forward making him accelerate the car in a hurry. I wrapped my arms threw Dean's to keep him from punching the man as the car went by. Dean took his hand out of his coat pocket and laced his fingers through mine.
"Wow," Dean shook his head, and I laughed lightly.
"I have a small confession to make," I admitted, glancing back the way they'd gone.
"What's that?" Dean questioned looking down at me. I glanced down before looking back at them.
"I was the producer that called them," Dean stared at me before laughing genuinely, making Sam and me laugh with him.
"Yeah, I hid the dead fish in their backseat," Sam confessed, making me laugh again.
"And I used the rest of that itching powder on the front seats," Dean added, and I looked back at the disappearing car. They had a hell of a trip in front of them. I turned back to the Impala. So did we.
"So, can you two please call a truce now?" I fixed each boy with a look, and finally, Sam sighed in defeat.
"Truce?" He asked.
"Yeah, truce," Dean agreed. "At least for the next hundred miles," He added with a grin that made me groan in mock annoyance as I got into the back.
