Author's Note
Hey everyone! :)
I hope you like this chapter- it was both fun and heartbreaking to write.
As always, I do not own any of the characters except for Ella, so please don't sue me.
Thank you to everyone who has favorited and followed this story- it really means a lot to me, and I hope you continue to enjoy it!
We spent the next couple weeks hunting various creatures and spirits: a bloody mary wannabe, a serial-killer shapeshifter, a two-hundred year old spirit with a hook for a hand, and a crap-ton of bugs due to an Indian curse- you know, the usual. Needless to say, we were all exhausted- we slept in the Impala when we could, with Dean hogging the front seat, Sam sprawled across the backseat, and me curled up on the floor between the two of them. It was actually quite comfortable, except for the time Sam tried to roll over in the middle of the night and fell on top of me. We traded spots pretty soon after that.
After we wrapped up the bug invasion case (don't even get me started on that one), we finally crashed at a motel in the middle of nowhere. I quickly claimed one of the two beds, and Sam stole the other, leaving Dean with the couch. He grumbled at first, but was asleep on his stomach before I could offer to switch with him. I turned to roll my eyes at Sam but saw that he had also fallen asleep. I sighed and got up to switch off the light before curling up in my own bed. I watched the lights of passing cars for a few minutes, and then my eyes finally closed.
I woke up the next morning and saw that Dean was already up and dressed, poking around on Sam's computer. As soon as he saw that I was awake, he closed the laptop and tossed me a brown paper bag with some sort of pastry in it.
"Morning, kid," he said, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms up toward the ceiling.
"Morning," I mumbled, and yawned sleepily before shaking my head and looking back up at him from my breakfast. "How long have you been up?"
"Not long. Sam still out?" he responded, and I pushed the covers off of me and swung my legs over to the side of the bed facing Sam. Sure enough, he was still asleep. I got up and poked him in the side a couple of times before he shifted and groaned before sitting up in bed, his hair sticking out in every direction.
"Morning, sleeping beauty," I said, and grabbed some clothes out of my backpack before heading to the bathroom to take a shower. Once I got out, I pulled on my favorite jeans and a black tank top before wrestling my hair into a messy bun and putting on a tiny bit of makeup so I didn't look as tired as I felt. I opened the door to see that Dean was back on the computer, and Sam, who had somehow managed to tame his hair, was sitting on the edge of the bed absent-mindedly drawing something. I flopped down on the bed next to him and leaned over so I could see what he was doing.
"Cool tree," I said, but he didn't seem to hear me. I looked up at Dean and shrugged, and he turned his chair around so he could look at us without turning his head.
"All right. I've been cruisin' some websites, and I think I found a couple candidates for our next gig."
"What did you find?" I asked him, and got up to get a closer look. I sat down on the floor in front of him so I could lean my back onto his legs, and he handed me the computer.
"Missing trawler crew in California… oh fun, cattle mutilations in West Texas- I vote that," I said, tipping my head back to look at Dean upside-down. He laughed at how I was sitting and looked up at Sam, who was still lost in his drawing.
"Earth to Sam!" he said, and Sam looked up quickly.
"Sorry, what?" he responded, and I sighed and lowered my chin back to its normal position so I could look at him.
"Did you hear anything we just said?" I asked, and he nodded swiftly.
"Yeah, something about a fishing crew and cattle mutilations- and only you would describe dead cows as 'fun'," he commented, and I flipped him off.
"Shut up, Sammy," I said, and I could feel Dean shaking with laughter. Once he stopped laughing, he reached for the computer, and I handed it to him.
"And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times," Dean said, noticing that Sam was once again not paying attention. He nudged me with his knee, and I got to my feet and walked over to Sam. I waved my hand in front of his face, and he looked up at me, brows knit in confusion.
"Dude. Did you leave your brain back in Oklahoma?" I teased, and he looked back to his drawing.
"I've seen this somewhere before…" he trailed off before suddenly getting up from the bed and walking over to his duffle bag.
"Seen what?" Dean asked, but Sam said nothing and continued to rummage through his bag.
"Sam?" I asked, and he turned around and held up a picture in triumph. He then grabbed his drawing to compare the two before turning to us.
"Guys, I know where we have to go next."
"Where?" Dean asked, leaning forward in interest.
"Back home- back to Kansas," Sam said, and I looked up at him in surprise. They didn't really talk about their life there, and when they did, it was strictly business.
"Okay, random," Dean said, sitting back in his chair. "Where'd that come from? Sam showed him the photo, and I could see pain cross Dean's face before he pushed it away. I held out my hand for the photograph, and Sam handed it to me.
"That was taken in front of our old house," he said, and I looked from him to Dean, not understanding what was going on. Then I understood, and put my hand over my mouth to silence my gasp.
"Is that… the house?" I asked, and Dean nodded his head tersely.
"Yeah, it is,"' he replied, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to keep a stoic expression on his face.
"I thought it burned down," I said, looking to Sam for an answer. He shook his head.
"Not completely- they rebuilt it."
"So what's your point?" Dean said gruffly, looking up at Sam in confusion. Sam sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed again before responding.
"Look, this is gonna sound crazy, but… the people who live in our old house? I think they might be in danger."
I turned to look at Dean, not sure if I had heard Sam right, and saw that he was just as confused as I was.
"What? Why would you think that?" I asked, joining Sam on the edge of the bed. I looked at him, trying to get his attention, but he wouldn't look me in the eyes.
"Uh...it's just, um… look, just trust me on this one, okay?" he said, and got up and started to walk away. I reached out to touch his arm and he stopped, taking a deep breath before turning to face me. I noticed for the first time how tired he looked, and couldn't keep the worry out of my voice as I responded.
"Sammy, what's going on?" I asked quietly, and he sighed and looked up at the ceiling for a second before returning to sit next to me.
"Come on, man. We're not going anywhere until you tell us," Dean said in exasperation, and I nodded and put my hand on Sam's arm in reassurance. He sighed again and looked down at his lap for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak.
"I have these nightmares…"
"I've noticed," Dean said, getting up from his chair and stepping closer to Sam, who looked at him in surprise before turning to me.
"So have I," I said softly, and Sam shook his head slowly before continuing to tell us what was going on.
"And sometimes… they come true," he said, and this time it was Dean who looked up in shock. He tried to reply but couldn't quite find the right words, and turned to look at me in horror. I was just as stunned as he was, but I took a deep breath and managed to collect myself enough to speak.
"Sammy, what do you mean?" I asked, and he looked back down at his lap and laced his hands together before looking up, pain shining in his eyes.
"Ella… I dreamt about Jessica's death for days before it happened," he confessed, and I looked at him with wide eyes. I turned to Dean and saw that his eyes were even wider than mine, and he mouthed a few choice words before looking at Sam.
"Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence," he said, sitting down on the edge of the other bed.
"No, Dean, it's not. I dreamt about the blood dripping and seeing her on the ceiling, the fire- everything- and I didn't do anything about it 'cause I didn't believe it," he said, pausing to take a breath before continuing tensely, "And now I'm dreaming about that tree, about our house… and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that's where it all started, man- this has to mean something, right?" He looked up at Dean hopefully, but Dean shook his head in confusion
"I don't know, Sammy," he said, and Sam quickly stood up and walked towards him. Dean turned to face him, and I quickly got up and sat down next to him so I could hear better. Sam crossed his arms tightly across his chest and gritted his teeth in frustration.
"What do you mean you don't know, Dean?" he said sharply, the pitch of his voice starting to rise. "This woman might be in danger- this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jess!"
"All right, just slow down, will ya?" Dean said, getting up and starting to pace. "First you tell me that you've got the shining, and now you say I've gotta go back home? Especially when…" he trailed off, shaking his head as if he refused to continue.
"When what?" I asked gently, and he stopped pacing and turned to face me. My heart broke a little bit seeing just how much pain was in his eyes, and I reached out to touch his arm. "Dean?"
"When I swore to myself that I would never go back to that house," he admitted quietly, and I felt his muscles tense under my hand.
"Look, Dean- we have to check this out. Just to make sure," Sam softly chimed in, and Dean took a deep, shaky breath before nodding.
"I know we do," he replied, and turned away to grab his bag and head out the door. I shot a worried glance at Sam, who seemed to be at a loss for words.
"Hey, why don't you grab your stuff and take a few minutes- I'll go talk to him," I offered , and Sam nodded thankfully. "And, Sam? I call shotgun."
He groaned, but then shrugged and gave in, and I grabbed my backpack from the floor and darted out the door before he could change his mind. I opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat, dropping my backpack at my feet and buckling my seatbelt. I turned to Dean, who was staring straight ahead with his jaw set and his hands gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline. I reached out to touch his shoulder, and he turned to me with an annoyed look on his face before realizing that it was me and not Sam. His face softened, and he managed a small smile.
"Hey, kid. You ready to go?" he asked, and I smiled back at him.
"Yeah, I'm ready. You? I replied, and Dean shook his head slightly with a strained look on his face.
"Not really," he said sadly. "But hey, that's the job for ya."
I nodded in agreement and offered him my hand, which he took, the pain in his eyes fading slightly. Then Sam finally opened the door and climbed into the backseat, sticking his head between the two of us. Dean let go of my hand to start the car, and Sam turned to look at me before raising his eyebrows at Dean.
"You guys good?" he asked, and I smiled at him and reached out to mess up his hair. He mumbled something about kicking my '5'9" ass' and leaned back into his seat, and I glanced at him in the rearview mirror.
"Let's do this thing."
We pulled up to the house a few hours later, and Dean steered the car next to the curb and put it in park. I looked up from the book I had been reading and leaned closer to Dean's window to get a better look. It looked like any other house on the block- had I known better, I would never have guessed that anything so horrible would happen there.
"You gonna be alright, man?" Sam asked, sticking his head between the two of us again to peek out the window.
"Let me get back to you on that," Dean answered, and got out of the car, closing the door securely behind him. I walked around the front of the car and stepped onto the curb to stand next to Dean, who was gazing sadly at the house. I slipped my hand into his, startling him out of his thoughts, and gave his hand a squeeze to reassure him that it would be okay. He smiled gratefully, and the three of us walked towards the door.
Sam knocked a few times, and after a minute, a blond woman answered. I glanced at Sam and noticed the stunned expression on his face- this must be the woman from his nightmare. Dean quickly dropped my hand to reach into his pocket for a badge, but I nudged his foot with mine before giving him a pointed look and grabbing his hand. Sam looked at me, not understanding what was going on, but after I gave him the death glare, he got the hint and pretended like this was supposed to happen.
"Sorry to bother you, ma'am," I said, easily slipping into a slight Southern drawl. "My name's Ella Lawson, and this is my fiance Dean Winchester and his brother Sam. We were just drivin' by when Dean pointed out that he used to live here, and I just wanted to see where they had grown up." Dean was silent for about half a second before he slipped an arm around my waist and smiled warmly at her.
"Winchester, huh? That's funny- I think I found some of your photos the other night," she mused, and I felt Dean tighten his grip on my waist.
"You did?" he asked, and she nodded and stepped aside.
"Come on in- I'm Jenny, by the way."
She led us through the house and into the kitchen, where we were greeted by a small blond boy jumping up and down in his playpen and squeaking "Juice!" over and over in his tiny voice.
"That's Richie," she said, laughing, as she grabbed a sippy cup from the fridge. "He's kind of a juice junkie, but hey- at least he won't get scurvy," she quipped, and handed the bouncing toddler his juice. She then turned around and walked up to a young girl who was sitting at the table and working on her homework.
"Sari, this is Sam and Dean- they used to live here, and brought Dean's fiancee so she could see the house they grew up in," she told the girl, who looked up and greeted us. Dean waved at her, and Sam spoke up.
"Hey, Sari."
'So, you just moved in?" Dean asked Jenny, who was busy wiping down the table. She told us that she had moved from Wichita looking for a fresh start. She liked the town so far and said she had yet to find a job, but when Sam asked how she was liking the house so far, she turned to face us with a hesitant look on her face.
"Well, uh… all due respect to your childhood home- i mean, I'm sure you had some happy memories here…" I glanced up at Dean, who smiled weakly, and I slid my hand back into his, earning a grateful look from him as Jenny continued to talk. "...but this place has its issues."
I glanced quickly at Sam and gave him a pointed look, and he cleared his throat.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's just getting old… like the wiring- we've got flickering lights almost hourly." At this, I looked up at Dean. He looked worried for a split second before his face smoothed, and he frowned sympathetically.
"Um, sink's backed up. There's rats in the basement," she said, and was about to go on before she looked at us apologetically.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain."
"No, it's fine," Dean reassured her, not looking offended at all. "Have you seen the rats, or just heard scratching?"
She thought for a second and then shook her head at us. "It's just the scratching, actually."
At this, Sari looked up from her homework. "Mom?" she asked, and Jenny knelt down besides her daughter's chair.
"Ask them if it was here when they lived here," she said quietly. I shot Sam a look, and he met my eyes, raising one eyebrow before turning back to look at her.
"What, Sari?" he asked calmly.
"The thing in my closet."
Sam glanced at us with wide eyes, and I may or may not have said a few choice words in my head. Jenny turned to her daughter and looked her in the eyes, speaking in a soft, calming voice.
"Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets. Right?" she said, looking up at the two brothers.
"Right, no," Sam said hurriedly, and Dean agreed with him before giving Jenny a puzzled look. She explained that Sari had had a nightmare the other night and that she was still a little shaken up about it, and we nodded in understanding. Sari, however, was not satisfied with this explanation, and quickly protested.
"I wasn't dreaming! It came into my bedroom, and it was on fire!" she insisted, and I looked at Dean with wide eyes. He managed to say something about needing to leave for an event before pulling me away from them and through the door. I heard Sam apologizing for having to leave so quickly, and he exited the house a moment later. The brothers started walking towards the car, and I followed closely behind, listening to their conversation.
"You hear that? A figure on fire!" Sam said in a loud voice, and I quickly shushed him and pointed to a pedestrian walking his dog. He waved sheepishly at the man before turning back to us, his eyes wider than they had ever been before.
"And you're sure that Jenny was the woman in your dreams?" I whispered as loud as I could, and he nodded.
"Yeah, I'm sure. You hear what she was talking about? Flickering lights, scratching noises-"
"Both signs of a pissed-off spirit," I interrupted, and Sam nodded vigorously.
"Yeah, well, I'm just freaked out your weirdo visions are coming true," Dean grumbled, and promptly spun around to glare at me- I had literally kicked his ass. Sam, somehow not noticing what was going on, spun around to face us with a panicked look on his face.
"Forget about that for a minute- do you think it's the thing that killed Mom and Jess?"
"I don't know, Sam!" Dean barked, and I rolled my eyes at both of them.
"Hey, if you two dumbasses want to stand in the middle of the road to have this conversation, be my guest- I'll be in the car." They both looked at me in shock, and Dean opened his mouth to say something before realizing that he was, in fact, standing in the middle of the road. He followed me to the car and climbed in the driver's seat, and I ran around the the passenger's seat before Sam could get to it. He sighed and looked through Dean's open window.
"I mean, has it come back, or has it been here the whole time?"he asked, and Dean sighed in exasperation.
"Or maybe it's something else entirely, Sam- we don't know yet! Now get in the damn car before you get run over!" Dean snapped, but Sam held his ground.
"Those people are in danger, Dean! We have to get 'em out of the house!" he hissed, and was about to turn around before I leaned over Dean to grab his arm.
" And we will, Sammy," I said, and he looked at me in frustration.
"No, I mean now!"
"And how are you gonna do that, huh? You got a story she's gonna believe?" Dean chimed in, and Sam paused for a moment before sighing in defeat. He climbed into the backseat and pouted for a second before he spoke up in a much calmer tone.
"What are we gonna do now?"
I looked at him and shrugged, and we sat in silence for a moment before Dean started the car and pulled away from the curb.
"Where are we going?" Sam piped up from the backseat, and Dean looked at him through the rearview mirror.
"To the nearest gas station- Baby and I need some fuel," he replied, and Sam nodded in agreement before trying to reach forward and change the radio station. Dean smacked his hand away, and glanced over his shoulder to grin at him.
"Did you forget the rule? Driver picks the music, shotgun- or in this case, back seat- shuts his cakehole," Dean said before reaching over to turn up the station. He started singing along at the top of his lungs, and I quickly joined him, while Sam protested from the backseat. Eventually, though, he gave in, and we sped down the road towards the gas station.
Once we had pulled in and hooked up the car to the gas pump, Dean and I ran in to grab some snacks while Sam watched the car. We came back with our arms full, and Sam shook his head at us.
"Ella, how many bags of jelly beans did you buy?" he asked, and I grinned sheepishly at him.
"None of your business, health nut," I quipped, dumping my stuff in the backseat and straightening up to throw a bag of trail mix at his head. He just barely caught it, and I laughed at the look of terror on his face and leaned against the car. Dean laughed at the two of us and bit into a hot dog, which promptly spurted ketchup all over his shirt.
"Son of a bitch!" he cursed, and I rolled my eyes at him before reaching into the backseat and offering him a wad of napkins. He gladly took them and managed to wipe most of the ketchup off of his shirt before throwing the napkins at Sam, who dodged them.
"Jerk!" he yelled, and Dean and I laughed.
"Bitch," Dean retorted, smirking at Sam.
"Dicks," I added, and slid into the backseat with my snacks. After a moment, they got into the car, and I leaned forward to rest my chin on the back of the seat between them.
"If this was any other kind of job, what would we do?" Dean asked us, as he finished his hot dog. Sam sighed and opened his bag of trail mix.
"We'd try to find out what we were dealing with- we'd dig into the history of the house," he responded, and Dean nodded briefly.
"Exactly, except this time, we already know what happened."
"Yeah, but how much do we really know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?" Sam asked, and I leaned back into my seat and dug into my bag of jelly beans as quietly as possible. This was something that I couldn't help with, so I sat back and listened to them talk about it.
"Not much. I remember the fire… the heat," Dean said, pausing for a moment. "And then I carried you out the front door."
"You did?" Sam asked, and Dean looked at him questioningly.
"Yeah, you never knew that?"
"No," Sam replied, shaking his head.
"And, well, you know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was…" Dean trailed off, and cleared his throat before continuing. "Mom was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her."
"Did he ever have a theory about what did it?" I interjected, and Dean turned to look at me and shook his head.
"If he did, he kept it to himself- God know we asked him enough times." He paused for a moment, and I leaned forward again.
"So, if we're gonna figure out what's going on now…" I trailed off, and looked at Sam
"...we have to figure out what happened back then, and see if it's the same thing," he continued, and Dean nodded at both of us.
"We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors- people who were there at the time," he said, and Sam laughed quietly.
"Does this feel like just another job to you?"
Dean didn't say anything for a second, but then got out of the car. I looked up at him, confused, and he smiled weakly at me.
"I'll be right back- I gotta go to the bathroom." He walked away, and I gave Sam a worried look before silently opening my door and following him. I turned the corner and saw him facing away from me, with his phone to his ear.
"Dad? I know I've left you messages before. I don't even know if you get 'em." He paused to clear his throat, and I leaned against the wall, trying to stay quiet.
"But I'm with Sam, and Ella, and we're in Lawrence. And there's somethin' in our old house. I don't know if it's the thing that killed mom or not, but-" His voice broke, and I could see that he was trying to hold it together.
"I don't know what to do," he admitted, and his shoulders started to shake. I couldn't bear to see him so upset, and I started moving quietly towards him.
"So, whatever you're doin', if you could get here. Please. I need your help, Dad," he begged, and I could hear him draw in a shaky breath before he pulled the phone away from his ear. Just as he clicked the phone shut, I put my hand on his arm. He spun around and was about to start swinging when he noticed it was me, and he relaxed and hung his head, refusing to look me in the eyes. I reached up to touch his face, and he looked at me, trying his hardest to hold back his tears. Before he could say anything, I pulled him into a hug and wrapped my arms around him as tightly as I could, and he buried his face into my shoulder and started to cry. We stood like that until his shoulders stopped shaking and his breath began to even out, and he rested his chin on top of my head. I pulled away and he managed a thin smile, and I reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes.
"It's going to be okay, Dean, " I said, and once he had collected himself, I offered him my hand. He took it, and we walked back to the car where Sam was waiting. I got into my seat and Sam turned to look at me with concern.
"He'll be okay. Maybe not right now, but eventually- after all, he's got us," I said quietly, and Sam smiled thankfully at me. Dean got in the car after he put the gas nozzle back on the pump, turned it on, and we drove away to the sounds of Metallica floating through the air.