Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Garideth- I know, right? He's unbelievably funny.

ccgnme- I wouldn't say stupid, more like desperate….

blue-daisies- Action? Yeah, maybe not yet.

XKaterinaNightingaleX- Hahaha, that would be funny to see!

Chapter name borrowed from….. oh forget it already.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN- CREEPY DOLL

Castiel watched curiously as Sam made a beeline for the bathroom, and I looked after him anxiously.

He knelt miserably in front of the toilet, hair hanging in his face.

Dean entered the room, grinning at the sight.

"How you feeling, Sammy?"

He groaned.

"I guess mixing whiskey and Jager wasn't such a gangbuster idea, was it?"

Dean looked hopefully at him.

"I'll bet you don't remember a thing from last night, do you?"

I sucked in a breath, scrutinizing Sam.

"I can still taste the tequila," Sam moaned.

We smiled in relief.

"You know, there's a really good hangover remedy," Dean gloated.

"It's a greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray."

Sam heaved, glaring at Dean.

"Oh, I hate you."

"I know you do," Dean grinned.

"Hey, turns out when Grandma Rose was a tyke she had a Creole nanny who wore a hoodoo necklace."

"So you think she taught Rose hoodoo?" Sam attempted to get to his feet.

"Yes, I do."

"All right," Sam stood up painfully.

"I think it's time we talked to Rose, then."

~Supernatural~

We approached the door marked 'PRIVATE' and knocked.

"Hello?" Sam called. "Susan?"

Dean looked around furtively.

"Clear?"

Castiel raised his hand.

The lock clicked open and we crept inside.

I glanced uneasily at the dolls in the room, hurrying up the dimly lit staircase I saw up ahead.

I pointed silently at the small room.

The door was ajar.

Rose was seated in a wheelchair facing away from us.

We moved forward cautiously.

"Mrs. Thompson?" Sam said gently. "Mrs. Thompson?"

Rose was trembling, staring blankly into space.

"Rose? Hi, Mrs. Thompson, we're not here to hurt you, it's okay-"

She did not respond, shuddering harder.

"Rose?"

Castiel took a step forward, gazing at the woman.

"This woman's had a stroke," He said quietly.

"She's innocent."

We stopped short as Susan came in.

"What the hell? What are you doing in here?"

"Oh, we just wanted to talk to Rose," Sam spluttered.

"Well, the door was open," Dean said at the same time.

"Look at her, she's scared out of her wits," Susan glowered at us accusingly.

"I want you out of my hotel in two minutes or I'm calling the cops."

We left without hesitation.

…

The car revved up of it's own accord, and Sam dashed forward, tackling Susan away.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so," Susan stammered.

We helped her into the inn.

"Whisky," She rasped as soon as she could speak.

"Sure." Sam held out a glass. "I know the feeling."

Susan gulped it down.

"What the hell happened out there?"

"Do you want the truth?" Castiel looked at her searchingly.

"Of course," Susan blinked.

"Well, at first we thought it was some sort of hoodoo curse, but that out there?"

Dean glanced outside.

"That was definitely a spirit."

She looked at us dazedly.

"You're insane."

Dean shrugged.

"It's been said."

"Look, I'm sorry, Susan," Sam sighed.

"We don't exactly have time to ease you into this, but we need to know when your mother had the stroke."

"What does that have to do with any-"

"Just answer the question," Sam cut her off.

She looked from face to face confusedly.

"About a month ago."

"Right before the killings began," Sam nodded to himself, unsurprised.

Castiel stood up.

"She used the hoodoo to protect the people here."

"She was using the five spot urns to ward off the spirit," Dean cursed loudly, kicking at his chair.

"Right," I picked up the fallen chair. "Until she had a stroke and she couldn't anymore."

Susan laughed hysterically.

"I don't believe this."

"Listen, sister," Dean lost his patience.

"That car didn't try to run you down by itself, okay? I mean, I guess it did, technically, but the spirit can—forget it."

Sam hastily interrupted.

"Look, believe what you want. But the fact is you and your family are in danger, all right? So you need to clear everybody out of here, your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone."

"Um," Susan stuttered. "I only have one daughter."

"One?"

"I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie," Dean frowned.

"Maggie's imaginary."

~Supernatural~

Susan led us up to the playroom.

"Tyler!"

The floor was littered with broken dolls.

Susan started to panic.

"Oh my god. Tyler. Tyler! She's not here!"

"Susan." Castiel's voice stopped her short.

"Tell us what you know about Maggie."

"Uh, not much." Her eyes flitted across the room.

"Tyler's been talking about her since Mom got sick."

"Okay," Sam pinched his nose.

"Did you ever know anyone by that name?"

"Uh, no…."

"Think," Dean urged.

"I mean, somebody that could have lived here, might have passed away?"

"Oh my god." Susan flattened a hand against her mouth.

"My mom. My mom had a sister named Margaret. She barely spoke about her."

"Did Margaret happen to die here when she was a kid?"

"She drowned in the pool.

"Come on."

Dean dragged me with him.

…

We ran through the gardens to the pool house.

We pounded on the door, but it was locked tight.

Castiel stared at it, and the door opened noiselessly.

"Tyler!" Susan called.

Something jerked the girl forward.

She fell into the pool with a scream.

Sam instantly jumped in after her, yelling: "Get downstairs!"

We dashed around the other side of the building, and Dean kicked the door open.

Sam resurfaced from the pool, pulling an unconscious Tyler onto the patio.

She coughed, spewing out water.

"Thank god!" Susan wrapped her arms around Tyler.

"Tyler?" I asked gently. "Do you see Maggie anywhere?"

"No," She nestled close to Susan. "She's gone."

…

"I don't get it," Dean leant against the railing of the staircase.

"Did Maggie just stop?"

"Seems like it," Sam shrugged.

"Well, where the hell did she go?"

Upstairs, Susan screamed.

We ran up the stairs, two at a time.

Rose was slumped in her wheelchair.

She was dead.

~Supernatural~

We watched Susan leave in silence.

Dean smirked as Susan hugged Sam.

"Feels good getting back in the saddle, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does."

Sam looked at us pointedly.

"But it doesn't change what we talked about last night."

I squirmed.

"We talked about a lot of things last night."

Sam glared at Dean.

"You know what I mean."

"Sam, you were wasted."

He stiffened, stretching to his full height.

"But both of you weren't. And you promised."