Chapter 11

Our appointment with the realtor representing the property was the following morning. Her office was in Eugene, so we drove into the city. Crowley, who insisted on acting as our real-estate lawyer, met us there. Bobby elected to hang out in a nearby bookstore, not wanting to be a fifth wheel.

Once we were seated and the usual pleasantries taken care of, Ms. Strazynski said, "The property you gentlemen are considering is the Warner House in Veneta, correct? Are you aware of its . . . unusual history? As I tried to explain to Mr. Crowley when he initially contacted my office, we've had a number of people express varying levels of interest in the property over the years, and they've all backed out in a hurry after experiencing some kind of . . . incident at the house. I know my goal is supposed to be to make the sale, but I'd be remiss if I didn't make sure you were approaching this with eyes wide open."

Dean smiled. "Don't worry, ma'am—we ain't afraid of no ghost!"

"What my husband is trying to say is that we have researched the background of this house thoroughly, and we're prepared to deal with any circumstances that may result," I added. "We fully understand what will be involved in purchasing the Warner House, and we still want to make an offer today."

"If I may take over from here?" Crowley interjected. "My clients wish to put in a full-price offer, with the consideration of an expedited turn-around time from the bank as a result. They'd like to close on the property soon to make needed repairs before the weather turns cold. It's currently the end of October, so reaching settlement by mid- to late November would be ideal. This offer is also contingent on a full home inspection, of course."

The demon's face was slightly disgruntled as he spoke. When we spoke to him yesterday evening, he'd argued in favor of trying to negotiate the asking price down. Dean and I had discussed the issue on our own, however, and agreed that closing on the house sooner so we could get the house in livable condition before the onset of winter was a priority. Banks were notorious for their slow responses and reluctance to bargain, so we knew we'd have to sweeten the pot to speed the process up. And the property was already well below fair market value due to its condition and history.

The realtor looked us over and nodded. "Normally, such a short time frame could be an issue—sales on bank-owned properties tend to take longer than private sales. Fortunately, the bank in question is local, and they're quite eager to get this particular property off their books. So I think they'll be willing to work with you on this. I assume your clients' financials in order?"

"Of course. They've been pre-approved for a mortgage, and they have the funds for a twenty-percent down payment and closing costs, as well as for the initial work on the house. May I see the contract?" Crowley held out a hand.

He reviewed the document and dickered back and forth with the realtor over several of the clauses. I tried to follow along with the discussion, while Dean attempted to not look bored. Once the contract had been amended to Crowley's satisfaction, I carefully read it over—though he was our friend, he was still a crossroads demon—and signed. Dean gave the document a cursory once-over before adding his signature and producing the check for the earnest money. Ms. Strazynski then shook our hands and promised to contact us as soon as she got word from the bank.

We retrieved Bobby from the bookstore and drove back to Sioux Falls to wait. Fortunately for our nerves, the realtor called us back after only three days to inform us that the bank had accepted our offer, and the closing was set for the Friday before Thanksgiving. We immediately scheduled a home inspection and contacted the mortgage company—which had been recommended to us by the financial advisor who'd been managing Dean's savings—about processing our loan. I also completed the graduate school application and sent it in right away.

The inspection report came back with only minor issues, most of which we were already aware of. Finalizing the mortgage went smoothly as well. We'd researched the process extensively and done our due diligence, and the financial history Frank set up for our new identities passed muster without question. The contingencies taken care of, all that was left was to await the day of the closing.

We used the time to prepare for the move and renovations. We cataloged the projects that had to be done around the property, with anything needed to make it weatherproof and livable at the top of the list. We visited architectural salvage yards in the area to purchase some materials and ordered others from online stores specializing in period-appropriate reproductions. Bobby went through his collection of hand and power tools and assembled what he and Dean thought we might need and could readily transport. He planned to accompany us to help out for at least a couple of weeks, while Garth agreed to mind the salvage business and phone lines in the older hunter's absence.

We also did what we could to assist Bobby and Garth in their ambitious plans to organize the North American hunters. The initial step was contacting the hunters we knew to gather details on their addresses, contact information, areas of expertise, limitations, and more, as well as the names and numbers they had for any additional hunters. This was sometimes slow going, as hunters weren't exactly known for being open and forthcoming. I entered the statistics we acquired into a searchable database, and Dean drafted a map with locations and tentative hunting ranges.

Once all the data was eventually assembled, Bobby and Garth planned to follow up with everyone to get their buy-in to the concept. A later project would be creating a network of hunter-friendly civilians who could feed cases to the dispatchers and provide resources to hunters in their area. This part was Jody's idea. She pointed out that our cases created a pool of people who knew about the supernatural to some degree—people we were able to save, families of victims we couldn't, police officers, reporters, medical personnel, academic experts, and psychics—and could be of valuable assistance to our work.

Two days before the closing, we loaded our belongings, tools, and building materials into the Impala, GTO, and Bobby's van and set off for Oregon. Since we were driving across most of four states with no one to spell us behind the wheel, it was late evening of the second day by the time we arrived in Eugene. We booked rooms at a motel on the western end of the city for the several weeks it would take to make the house habitable, since the one motel in Veneta wasn't ideal for an extended stay. We had dinner at a nearby Greek restaurant and then fell into our beds, worn out by the long drive and knowing we had an early start the next day.

The following morning, we met Ms. Strazynski at the house for a final walk-through before the closing. We then went to the bank in Eugene which currently owned the property, where we read through and signed at least two dead tree's worth of paperwork before handing over the certified checks for the down payment and closing fees. Once we had the keys and our copies of the documents in our hands, we picked up Bobby from the motel and returned to the Warner House.

The dumpster we'd ordered was waiting on the street in front of the property. We parked our vehicles in the driveway and unloaded the tools and supplies into the garage, which was in somewhat better condition than the house itself. Then we unlocked the front door and walked into our own house for the very first time.

I stopped in the foyer and looked around, overwhelmed for a moment. We'd been here only a few hours before, but now this place was ours. Dean's expression was equally stunned, and his eyes were a bit misty.

"So how does it feel to be legitimate property owners now?" Bobby asked gruffly.

"Man, I dunno what to say!" my husband replied. "We ain't ever really had a home before, except for Baby and your house. I don't think either of us expected to have anything more, not until recently."

I nodded in agreement. "I've wanted this all my life—a home, stability, some sense of safety and normalcy. When I was younger, I thought I'd have to give up everyone I loved in order to have that. When I got older, I realized family was more important and thought I had to let go of my earlier dreams instead. But now to be able to have both . . ." As I trailed off, Dean clasped my hand in his and squeezed.

"You boys don't even know how happy I am for you. I've always been proud of what you've accomplished as hunters, but I never wanted you to end up like your dad, where hunting was the only thing in your lives. And despite the fundamental differences I had with the damn bastard 'bout how he raised you, I think he'd be glad too, seeing you like this," Bobby said.

He cleared his throat and continued. "Well, enough of that! We got work to do and can't start bawling like little girls. First order of business is clean-up and demo, right? So let's grab the crowbars and sledgehammers and get to it!"

We spent the rest of the day and most of the next clearing out the accumulated debris and trash and demolishing anything either not original to the house (or not a good reproduction) or too damaged to refurbish. I made judicious use of my telekinesis to knock down and lift far more than with muscles alone. Dean had more limited access to the ability through our soul bond, but he utilized it efficiently to pull out nails, contain and sweep up dust and small particulates, and hold up buckets and trash bags.

Once the wreckage was removed, we were able to start on the renovations. First on the list was getting one of the bathrooms functional, to avoid having to rent a port-a-john. We decided to start with the main floor guest bathroom, as it was small and wouldn't take long to retile, repaint, and replace the fixtures.

Since the space was too cramped to allow all three of us to work inside, I elected to tackle the yard instead. It perhaps wasn't as high a priority as other tasks in the house, but I felt that clearing out the overgrowth would give a clear sign to neighbors and passersby that the property was no longer abandoned. Rather than breaking out the weed whacker and other lawn equipment, I gave my abilities full rein, after ensuring no one was near enough to see anything. Thus I was able to trim the tall grass, pull dead plants, remove most of the fallen branches and other rubbish, and even partially dredge the pond with much less time and sweat. After transporting the yard waste to the dumpster, I sprayed the driveway, walkways and patio with weed killer and watered the lawn.

Towards evening, Dean wandered outside with a couple beers and sat next to me on the back porch steps. "Yard looks a hell of a lot better now! You got a lot done in one day, kiddo."

I took a swig from the bottle he'd handed me. "I totally cheated. It would've been much harder doing this the mundane way. Not to mention nastier—the shit I pulled out of the pond smelled almost as bad as a ripe corpse! The grass will need another trim in three or four days, and then it should be short enough to use a lawnmower after that. But at least this place doesn't look like a Scooby Doo villain's lair anymore. How's the bathroom coming along?"

"Walls are painted and tiles are set. Gotta wait for the mortar to cure before we can go back in, so we can't spread the grout 'til tomorrow evening. So we'll start on replacing the busted windows 'til then. After the grout's done, we hafta reglaze the tub and put in the new toilet, sink, and shit. The bathroom should be good to go by the time Jody gets here," he said.

"Sounds good. After we get the windows in, what should I work on while you and Bobby are finishing the bathroom?" I asked.

"You mind tackling the wallpaper removal? It's a crap job, but your TK and pyro should make it easier to steam and pull it all down. It's a damn shame most of the original shit got fucked up, but the stuff we ordered will look awesome!"

I sighed. "Sure, dude. Did you get a chance to talk to Collin yet?"

"Yeah, and he's cool with working around our reno schedule—things are usually slow there between Thanksgiving and New Year's. So I'll start working part-time in December and switch up to full-time in January."

"And Dr. Visyak will be sending me some translation work, so I'll be able to bring in some income too until my job at the grad school starts. Assuming I get in, of course," I added.

"Don't worry, Sammy—they'd be total dumbasses not to accept you." My big brother threw an arm around my shoulders. "Now let's go get some dinner and relax in our motel room. Gotta a lotta work tomorrow!"

Three days later, Bobby drove to the Eugene Airport early in the morning to pick up Jody. We went straight to the house, where we worked on installing new storm windows over the original and replacement windows. Once that was done, we needed to pressure wash the entire exterior and then repair as much as we could before the weather became too cold to allow mortar, stucco, paint, and varnish to cure properly.

We were mounting one of the second-story storms over the front porch when Bobby's van pulled into the driveway. We descended the ladder as he and Jody came up the walkway and waited as she gave the house and yard a once-over.

"Wow, guys, this is a great place!" she exclaimed. "I mean, obviously it needs quite a bit of work right now, but I can totally see the potential. It'll be fabulous when you're done!"

Dean and I both grinned, and I said, "Thanks, Jody! We certainly hope so! Bobby can show you around inside while we finish with these storm windows, and then we can all go grab lunch."

"Nonsense! This is your house, so one of you should take her around," Bobby retorted. "Sam, why don't you have the honor, and I'll help Dean with the windows? Go on, scram!"

"Yessir!" I rolled my eyes in Jody's direction, and she suppressed a smile as she followed me inside.

I walked her through the house, pointing out the features and explaining our plans for each room. We ended in the kitchen, where we had our cooler and a couple of camp chairs set up. I pulled two sodas from the cooler and handed one to her.

"I am so glad you guys found this place! You deserve a chance to settle down a bit and enjoy yourselves after everything you've done," the sheriff said after taking a drink.

"Well, we're both very grateful that you came out here to help us, especially right before the holidays. Are you sure you don't mind spending Thanksgiving here instead of with your family?" I asked.

"I figure you need all hands on deck with a project this big. And the sooner we get this in livable condition, the sooner you can move out of that motel and in here!" She paused for a moment, looking pensive. "As for the holidays, I think it's better to be away from my family right now. It's just too soon after . . . after everything with Sean. They mean well, but none of them truly understands what happened to him. And I just don't have the energy to pretend right now.

"And some of them don't entirely approve of what's begun between me and Bobby either, between his reputation in town and how soon it's been. Sometimes I wonder myself if I'm rushing into things! I mean, it's been less than a year since Sean's death, and I've always felt that mourning for a loved one should never be rushed." She sighed.

I reached over and put a hand over hers. "None of us think any less of you for this, Jody. All of us, Bobby included, know that you're still grieving for your husband. We don't expect anything else—like you said, this is something that should take time. We also understand that the circumstances in which you and Bobby got closer were unusual, to say the least. Think of it as like being in a war zone—everything, including emotions, is heightened, and events happen way faster than in normal situations.

"The important thing is that you make each other happy. I know, despite the teasing we've thrown at Bobby, that Dean and I are thrilled to see you together. Bobby's been alone for far too long, but he's been doing better in the past few months than we've ever seen him. You both deserve some joy after what you've gone through."

"You're a very wise man, Sam Winchester." She smiled at me. "Now let's get some lunch, and then you can show me what you want me to work on first."

After lunch, we installed the remainder of the storm windows and tore down more of the wallpaper inside. The next morning, Dean and Jody headed to the grocery store to pick up materials for a low-key Thanksgiving meal. While they were shopping, Bobby and I went to the house, where we pressure-washed the exterior. We then moved inside and cleaned up the kitchen and dining room.

When the others arrived, we set up the food that needed to stay warm in the chafing dishes they'd also bought and put what needed to stay cold in the cooler. Since it was too early to eat yet, we worked on smaller tasks around the property, like pulling weeds, spackling cracks in the plaster, and replacing light fixtures. Bobby was used to our abilities by now, but Jody looked startled the first few times she saw things like yard debris flying across the yard into a trash bag as I cleared a garden plot or the bucket of joint compound floating beside Dean as he repaired a patch of wall.

Once it got to early afternoon, we took turns cleaning up in the guest bathroom before gathering in the dining room. In lieu of a dining table, Dean and I spread a blanket on the floor so we could eat picnic-style. In the kitchen, chafing dishes of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, corn, and green bean casserole and tubs of gravy and cranberry sauce were set up on some plywood boards over a couple of sawhorses.

After everyone had filled their plates and sat on the blanket, Dean cleared his throat. "Listen, me and Sam don't have much experience doing the holiday thing. Growing up, we were lucky if Dad was actually around and remembered to get us a bucket of KFC. And we ain't ever really had much to be thankful for before—always too busy moving on to the next case, worrying 'bout saving the world or each other. But now we've got each other, this house, and a chance to settle down and have a taste of a normal life."

"And we're both really glad that you're spending this holiday with us, even though we can't offer a proper Thanksgiving dinner yet," I added. "Until now, the closest we ever got was the couple of times Dad left us with Bobby at this time of year, and he gave us a real home-cooked meal instead of takeout. That meant a lot to us, and we hope to return the favor soon."

"Well, you know we don't care 'bout the surroundings. Holidays are 'bout being with family, so I can't think of a better way to celebrate than with you boys," Bobby said. "And maybe this place will be ready for the whole traditional turkey dinner thing by Christmas."

"Yeah, 'bout that—anyone else notice that the repairs are going a hell of a lot easier than expected? Or that some of the damage ain't as bad as when we first looked at the house?" my brother asked. "I think how we took down the poltergeist did something we didn't expect."

I sat up straight. "Really? I thought the renovations were coming along quickly, but I just assumed that was all you and Bobby. I mean, Bobby built his panic room in a weekend because he was bored, and I'm pretty sure you could rebuild the Impala better than new from just the steering wheel and a couple of hubcaps."

"Your brother and I may be good, but this ain't all us. Normally when you get into a reno, you start finding more problems, not less. I didn't say anything earlier though, 'cause I figured you two deserved a bit of good luck for a change." Bobby looked over at Dean. "Have you tried scanning the house?"

He nodded. "There're low-level EMF readings all over. They ain't as strong as when Warner was still here, but they're fucking everywhere. And I can feel something, though it ain't really thoughts."

I extended my psychic senses and studied the energy I'd tied into the building. "Huh! The power I pulled from the ghost doesn't seem to be simply waiting passively like I expected. It appears to be reacting somehow to the areas that need work."

"So are you saying this house is alive now?" Jody asked curiously.

"No, not exactly. What's there isn't sentient—I don't know if it's really even aware. It's acting on a mostly instinctual level, trying to protect and slowly heal the house," I replied.

"Might be some lingering remnant of Warner's consciousness, which makes some sense given how obsessed he was with this place," Bobby said thoughtfully. "Can't say I've heard of something like this before, but I'll check the lore books when I get back home. Least it seems to be beneficial so far."

"Well, until we have reason to believe otherwise, let's not look a gift horse in the mouth. Don't worry about the house and enjoy the rest of the holiday together!" Jody stated firmly.

"Yes ma'am!" Dean immediately stuffed an enormous chunk of turkey in his mouth and grinned when I made a face at his manners.

We turned our attention to the food, which was surprisingly good for supermarket fare. While we ate, Jody entertained us with the latest shenanigans of some of the local characters in Sioux Falls. After we cleaned up and packed the leftovers in the cooler, we cracked open some beers and watched football on my laptop. Once the game was over, we then went through catalogs from local furniture stores and discussed decorating ideas.

Bobby eventually took Jody back to the motel, leaving us to finish tidying and close up the house before returning to the motel ourselves. I'd just loaded the cooler into the Impala's trunk when my husband wrapped his arms around my waist.

So that was our first holiday in our own house. Was it enough for you, Sammy? he murmured, his lips brushing the nape of my neck.

I turned to face him and noticed he looked a little downcast, his eyes not meeting mine. Is this about that memory of having Thanksgiving dinner with Stephanie's family?

Dean shrugged. I know what we saw in Heaven that night was manipulated to try to fuck with us. But that was a happy memory for you. And I really wanted today to be good for you, baby boy, but—

I immediately laid a finger over his lips. Stop right there, Dee. You have nothing to regret about today. Yeah, back when I was a dumb kid, I was obsessed with the trappings of 'normal' and what I didn't have. And I didn't appreciate all that you did give me. But I've learned since then about what's really important.

I don't care that the house isn't finished, that we don't have any furniture yet, or that our meal wasn't home-cooked. This is still the best Thanksgiving I've ever had, because I'm sharing it with you in our very own home. This is what truly matters to me. I replaced my finger with my mouth and kissed him deeply.

He sighed and relaxed against me. Okay, kiddo. I just wanna make sure you're happy.

Being with you is what makes me happy. The house, the car, and the rest are wonderful, and I'm very grateful to have them. But even if we lost all that, I'd still consider myself fortunate as long as we're together.