Being back at Bobby's was surreal. Being back at Bobby's without Dean was heartbreaking. Everything in Bobby's house and outside in the junkyard reminded me of what I had lost. The kitchen where I first met the green-eyed man; the living room where I had drummed up the courage to come on to him; the bedroom where we had made love numerous times while trying to keep quiet and not let the occupants in the rest of the house know what we were doing; the garage where I helped Dean reconstruct Baby after the car accident that almost claimed his life and had John giving his soul to save his oldest son; the old junk car where, at the time, I thought we were committing ourselves to one another. Now that was done and over.
Sam can sense my suffering and tries to help me get through each day. Day #1 had mostly been getting rest. Sam and Bobby both try to ease my misery by letting me lounge and bringing me food and drinks or whatever they thought I might need. Day #2 I was over being a lazy bum and went about cleaning and organizing Bobby's kitchen once again. By Day #3 Bobby left on a small salt and burn in the next town over leaving Sam and I to fend for ourselves. We played cards, a couple of board games and watched a movie. I fell asleep on Bobby's couch that night with Sam's arm wrapped around me and my head on his shoulder.
By Day #8 we were both itching to get back into hunting but it had been quiet on that front. No unexplained deaths, no demon omens, nothing. Bobby's phone hasn't rang in so long that we almost forgot what it sounded like. No one was calling for help with research or to ask how to kill anything. I couldn't just sit around and an idea popped in my head so before I talked myself out of it, I went upstairs and grabbed my gun, a Glock 17 and head to the rear of the scrap yard.
Stopping by the storage shed where I knew Bobby kept his targets for practice, I grab a few knowing that I will probably obliterate at least a few. Target practice is the best thing to relieve stress and tension. Well, maybe not the best thing, but I can't do that. And I knew better than to think either of the men I was living with would allow me to take a page out of Dean's book and head out to a bar and find a willing body. So, shooting mannequins and stuffed dummies it was.
The few days that we had planned to stay at Singer Salvage Yard has turned into 2 weeks. 2 weeks since we left Cicero, IN and Dean behind. Sam had heard from Dean about a week ago and told me Dean had bought a DNA test and had, unknowingly to Lisa, took samples from Ben and himself and sent it off to be analyzed. Sam had asked him why he didn't get a blood test done, he laughed telling me Dean had went off on a rant about the costs of said blood tests and had went with the next best thing. The results would be mailed to a post office box he had set up just for it.
Day #15 started just like any other day. I woke up, went downstairs to enjoy a cup of coffee while sitting on Bobby's front porch watching the sun comes up over the myriad of vehicle carcasses that littered the yard. Sam joined me before going on his daily morning runs. As I watched him jog down the drive, I sighed thinking that this might be my life from now on. Living with Sam, the brother of the man I was still madly in love with, at Bobby's.
I was cooking breakfast, bacon and eggs, when Bobby wandered downstairs.
"Morning Nic."
"Morning Bobby. Breakfast is almost ready."
"Thank you sweetheart."
Bobby busied himself getting a cup of joe for himself when one of the phones that lined the wall began ringing. Bobby moved to answer it as I began plating the food for us.
"I'm off to help Hugo with a vamp case, but I can send Sam and Nic."
"Yea, they're here now."
"I'll give them the info and your contact and I'm sure they will be more than willing to help you out Ted."
"I'll have Sam call you."
Bobby hung the phone back on its base and sit at the table.
"Case for us?"
"Sounds like a simple salt and burn. Newlyweds being haunted. Something threw her husband down the staircase, breaking his leg. Ted was headed that way but something came up."
I can feel the anxiousness of finally having something to do and I couldn't wait until Sam got back to tell him about it.
Sam and I had borrowed one of the few cars that Bobby had running, a 1984 Camaro. There was a weird smell that permeated from the back seat but with the windows down, the odor was lessened but still there.
Ted's salt and burn case was located in Littlefield Texas, an almost 15 hour drive from Sioux Falls. As soon as Sam had gotten back from his run and heard there was a case, he had quickly showered, examined the notes that Bobby had concerning the case and contacted Ted to let him know it would be taken care of.
The ride was uneventful and we arrive in Littlefield just before midnight. Sam got us a room at the Crescent Park Motel. We got settled in the room, quickly reviewed the case and crawled into our respective beds. The husband was still in the hospital since he had to have surgery to reset his femur so we knew we couldn't get in to interview him until morning.
Steve and Amy Potterson explained to us what had happened for Steven to land in the hospital; carrying boxes down from the attic and something pushed him from behind.
Steve and Amy had been married for a month when they first noticed anything out of the ordinary. First it was slamming doors at night, then it was moving insignificant items, like their wedding photo which had been placed on the fireplace was found in the garage.
"So, you guys weren't arguing? Maybe he said something out of context to make you angry?" Sam asked. We were dressed as civvies, civilians; advocates for counseling with Couples United. . Neither of us could figure out how the FBI would be interested in a case such as this so we went with the next best thing.
"No! God no. I wasn't even upstairs. I was waiting for him to bring me the box so I could finish decorating the front room.,"Amy answered, looking at her husband. "The box had some of my family's trinkets that I wanted to display."
Sam and I spoke to the couple for a few more minutes, trying to get to the crux of the situation. We knew it had to be a ghost, so her saying the box was full of family heirlooms and whatnot really drove that idea home.
I look at Steve and he is lovingly looking at his wife as she answers our questions. He really truly loved her, it was evident. His eyes sparkled as he gazed upon her. A part of me was jealous of Amy, I wished someone would look at me that way.
As we are walking out of the hospital and to the car, Sam being the gentleman he is, opens the door for me and I slide in. Instead of closing it though, Sam squats down beside me. "Nic, I got a bad feeling about this."
"Why Sam?"
"Well, it could be anyone in that family. If the box was family antiques, no telling who the ghost is. We got to try to narrow it down."
I get an idea in my head and smile at him. "Leave me here, Sam. Let me talk to Amy woman to woman. See if I can get any headway."
"I owe you Nic," Sam smiles before standing to his full height. "Just call when you're done. I'll have food."
"Sounds like a plan."
I walk back into the hospital and find Amy Potterson in the cafeteria, chips and a can of soda on the table in front of her. I grab a quick cup of coffee and approach her.
"Mrs. Potterson?"
"Oh, hi Jenny. I thought you guys left?"
"Yea, well. My colleague's uncle is up on 7th so he wanted to visit. I told him I'd meet him out front in an hour."
I begin asking her more personal questions that we couldn't really ask in the earlier interview; stuff life where she's from, about her parents, siblings, grandparents. Anything really that would help us figure out who the ghost terrorizing her and her husband. Both sets of parents were still alive, even the grandparents were still alive. The only death in either family had been her brother, Jimmy. Jimmy had died after a fight on the streets when he was trying to defend his girlfriend from a few drunk and disorderlies. From what Amy told me it had been violent and bloody and Jimmy's girlfriend had witnessed it all and had been locked in a psychiatric ward since. I knew we had our ghost then. I give Amy my sympathies and bid her a farewell, walking out of the cafeteria and calling Sam.
"The brother died right in front of her," I finish re-telling Amy's story to Sam as we eat the food he had picked up. "The girlfriend went crazy. Had to be locked up in order not to hurt herself."
"Wow!" Sam said, sitting back and wiping his mouth with a napkin. "So, the brother, huh? Wonder why he's going after his sister and new husband though? Not after those who killed him?"
I shrug. I knew it didn't make a lot of sense but it's the only lead we had, it's the only deceased in the whole family, either side.
"Did you see how he was looking at her?" I ask, as I lay on my bed and Sam on his. We're both exhausted from hours of trying to figure out how to get whatever Jimmy's spirit was attached to and torch it. "There was so much love and adoration in his eyes. I don't know why he wouldn't want that for his sister."
"Yea," Sam answers, detached.
I roll to my side and prop my head on my hand. I can tell he is not really here, he's in his own head, reminiscing. "Sam?"
"Hmm?"
"What's wrong?"
"Oh, uh nothing," he chuckles but I know there's something.
"Wanna talk about it?" I ask him hesitantly.
"Just thinking about Jess," he tells me and I can hear the regret in his voice. Jessica Moore had been his college sweetheart. They had met on the quad during his freshman year and had dated and fell in love. I had heard him dreaming and moaning her name a few times and had asked Dean who Jess was.
"She was the love of my life. I looked at her the way that husband looked at his wife," Sam confided. "She was my everything. I already had our future planned out. I was going to propose after I graduated Stanford, ya know. Become a big shot lawyer with the beautiful wife."
I smile as he continues talking, remembering life before it all went to hell. "I had an interview that Monday with the dean for law school. I was going to do, Nic. I was going to become a big shot lawyer and save the world the right way, the legal way. Then Dean shows up, telling me Dad was on a hunting trip and was missing and it all went to hell."
"What happened?" I ask, curious. All Dean had told me is who Jess was and that she had been killed but not the how or the why.
"I left with Dean. He swore he'd have my back for my interview. We took care of the 'Woman in White". Woman haunting a highway near Jericho. She'd murdered her kids and then when the guilt hit her, she took her own life off a bridge. Came back and found Jess' body pinned to the ceiling right before it burst into flames."
I feel the tears fall down my face as Sam continues telling me that if it hadn't been for his brother coming in and getting him out of the apartment, he would've died trying to get to her. He told me that that is the same way their mother had died when he was six months old.
"I loved her Nic," Sam says quietly. "Hell, I still do. It's been over two years and I still miss her. I miss her bad."
I jump off my bed and lay beside Sam, putting my arms around him the best I could. "I'm so sorry Sam. I'm sorry you had to go through that!" Sam turned and draped his arm over me, pulling me close. We lay like that for a long time, Sam silently crying over his lost love. At this moment, my anger and agony over Dean melted away. Here I was mourning something insignificant when Sam was grieving his dead girlfriend.
"I'm sorry," Sam apologizes, pulling away from me and sitting up. "I just…"
"Sam, no don't you dare!" I insist. "You have every right to have these feelings. And I'm here for you. You told me I was like a sister to you, right?" I ask and he nods. "Well, you're like my big little brother. I love you and I don't want to see you hurting. If you ever need to talk about Jess, I'll listen. I promise."
"Thanks Nic," he says, turning his head toward me. "That goes both ways, ya know. I'm here for you too. I know what Dean did was shitty but you can talk to me about it."
I smile at him, thankful for his friendship. "Yea, he's an ass but I still love him deeply."
"I know you do and I believe he loves you too."
"Sure has a funny way of showing it," I say, shrugging off the emotions I feel thinking of how if Dean really loved me he would be here now and not off living with some other chick.
"What if it turns out Ben isn't his?" Sam asks. "You know, he'll come back to us. To hunting and to you. Will you forgive him?"
I ponder the thought. If Ben isn't Dean's son then yes he would be rejoining the hunting business. But can I truly forgive him for breaking my heart and doing the right thing, making sure that kid was safe? I know the answer before I even have to think about it. Yes, yes I would forgive him. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, Dean has an 8 year old son with Lisa Braeden.
"Sam you saw Ben. His mannerisms were Dean made over."
"That doesn't mean anything. You know that," Sam says, trying to persuade me to think positively.
"You're right," I concede. "And believe me, I hope and pray with every fiber in my body that the boy doesn't belong to him. But then I remember the glint of hope in Dean's eyes when he told me that Ben might be his. He was happy, hopeful, eager even. He wants that boy to be his!"
"We never really had a childhood, ya know. Dad raised us pretty much to be warriors. There was no time to play and enjoy being a kid," Sam sadly admits. "We had to know how to fight off anything and everything. So for Dean maybe he sees a way to relive the childhood he didn't get to have through Ben."
"Well as much as I love him and am in love with him, I hope your brother gets what he wishes for then," I say and then add lowly, "even it isn't with me."
Before Sam can acknowledge my statement, there is a knock on the motel room door and he gets up, grabbing his gun from the nightstand and walk to the door. I roll off the opposite side of the bed and go to grab for the duffel I had stuffed under the bed. Sam peeks through the peephole and sighs, clicking the safety back on on his gun. "It's Amy Potterson."
We search through and analyze each family knickknack in the box that Amy had delivered. She had told us after my questions in the cafeteria, she remembered an aunt who believed in the supernatural and that she claimed a spirit who died a violent death or had a vendetta against someone still living could be attached to something they had once owned. Amy didn't know what could be in the box that had belonged to Jimmy and at this point she didn't really care. She told us to get rid of all of it. She no longer wanted old mementos that someone's spirit could easily attach to and spook anyone else. So Sam and I went through the box, just to be sure there weren't papers or any important documents that needed to be kept.
As soon as I pick up and read the name on the dog tags, the lights flicker and the motel room chills.
PFC James M. Wilson. The dog tags belong to her deceased brother, Jimmy. There is a shimmer behind Sam and before I can react Sam's body goes flying across the room, landing on the table. I jump over the bed and squat down next to the duffel I had pulled out earlier. While Jimmy is busy stalking Sam, I grab the salt container, lighter fluid and a lighter and throw the dog tags in the ashtray on the nightstand. I quickly douse the tags in salt and lighter fluid and then flick the lighter. As soon as the fire hits the fluid the tags were burning and I turn to see Jimmy's ghost go up in flames.
The tags are destroyed in the blaze and as soon as they are cool enough to touch, Sam seals them in a envelope and takes them to Jimmy's burial site and bury them at his grave.
The next day, we meet Amy and Steve at their house after he had been discharged.
"So, Jimmy didn't like my new husband?"
"It's the only thing we can tell," I explain. "I just don't understand, if he died such a violent death why would he not go after those who killed him?"
"Do you think that's what he should've done?" Amy asked.
"Well, in all other cases we have dealt with, that's usually how it goes," Sam points out.
Steve speaks up from his chair. "Ames, baby. We need to talk."
Sam and I leave the newlyweds and walk to our car. Another hunt in the books. Another hunt without Dean. We get into the Camaro and head back to the motel., ready to get back to Bobby's
We are packing our bags when there is a knock on the door. I look out the window to see a distressed Amy Potterson outside. I hurry to open the door and usher her in.
"Amy, what's wrong?" I ask.
"Steve. He confessed."
"Confessed to what?" Sam asks, handing her a tissue.
"He was one of the guys. He killed my brother!"