"'Ammy, up! Up!" Mack said, reaching up to her uncle who was sitting on one of the motel room beds sketching a picture of a tree. It had been a few months since the shifter case, and they had worked a few other jobs since. One involving a ghost who was killing people for a preacher's daughter who she thought were unclean and another one involving a lot of bugs. Sam set the motel stationary aside, reaching down and lifting Mack onto the bed beside him.

"Scoo doo! Scoo doo!" Mack cried, grabbing the remote off the covers. Sam sighed, taking the remote from her and scrolling through the channels until he found Scooby Doo. Mack sat next to him, totally mesmerized while he went back to drawing.

"Alright," Dean said from his place in front of the computer at the table. "I've been cruisin' some websites. I think I found some candidates for our next gig. A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali- its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas." Sam didn't respond, totally focused on his drawing. "Hey." Sam looked up. "Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?"

"No. I'm listening. Keep going."

"And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times." Dean waved his hand in front of Sam's face. "Any of these things blowin' up your skirt, pal?" Sam remained focused on his drawing, frowning. "Wait. I've seen this."

"Seen what?" Sam got up from the bed, searching through his duffel bag. "What are you doing?" Dean pressed. Sam found what he was looking for- a picture of their family when he was a baby. They were standing outside their house and as he compared the tree in the photo to his picture, they looked identical. "Dean, I know where we have to go next," he said. "Where?" Dean asked. "Back home- back to Kansas."

"Okay, random. Where did that come from?" Sam showed the family picture to Dean. "Alright, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?" Dean frowned down at the picture, furrowing his brow in confusion as he answered slowly. "Yeah." Sam pressed on, "And it didn't burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?"

"I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy, but... the people who live in our old house- I think they might be in danger." Dean blinked up at Sam. "Why would you think that?" he asked. "Uh... it's just, um... Look, just trust me on this, okay?" He turned away, but Dean wasn't done with the conversation. "Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?" Sam nodded. "Yeah." Dean sighed, giving his brother a look. "Come on, man, that's weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that."

"I can't really explain it is all."

"Well, tough," Dean said, crossing his arms. "I'm not goin' anywhere until you do." Sam sighed, looking over at the TV that was still playing an episode of Scooby Doo for Mack. He finally looked back at Dean, who hadn't moved his position and had kept staring at him while he waited. "I have these nightmares." Dean nodded his head. "I've noticed." Sam continued, "And sometimes... they come true." Dean dropped his arms, stunned. For a moment the only sound came from the TV.

"Come again?"

"Look, Dean... I dreamt about Jessica's death- for days before it happened," Sam said. "Sam, people have weird dreams sometimes, man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence." Dean took a seat on the bed next to Mack. "No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn't do anything about it 'cause I didn't believe it. 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, it has to mean something, right?"

"I don't know," Dean replied skeptically, overwhelmed by what Sam was telling him. Sam took a seat across from Dean on the opposite bed. "What do you mean you don't know, Dean? This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica!"

"Alright, just slow down, would ya?" Dean stood back up, beginning to pace. "I mean, first you tell me you've got the Shining? And then you tell me that I've gotta go back home? Especially when..." He trailed off, stopping in his tracks. "When what?" Sam pressed when he didn't continue. "When I swore to myself I would never go back there?" Dean finished sadly. "Look, Dean," Sam spoke softly, "we have to check this out. Just to make sure."

"I know we do."

The Winchesters pulled up outside their childhood home, Dean quiet and somber. "You gonna be alright, man?" Sam asked gently. "Let me get back to you on that," Dean muttered. They climbed out, Dean taking a minute to grab Mack, and headed toward the door. When they knocked, a woman- Jenny- opened the door. "Yes?" she asked. "Sorry, to bother you, ma'am, but we're with the Federal-" Dean started. "I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean," Sam cut him off. "We used to live here. You know, we were just drivin' by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place."

Dean glanced curiously at Sam as Jenny smiled. "Winchester. Yeah, that's so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night." Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You did?" Jenny nodded, stepping aside. "Come on in." Sam entered first, followed by Dean who was guiding Mack along by the hand. They followed Jenny through to the kitchen where a young girl was sitting at the table doing homework and a little boy not much older than Mack was bouncing in his playpen.

"Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!" the boy chanted. "That's Ritchie. He's kind of a juice junkie," Jenny said. She took a sippy cup from the fridge and handed it to him. "But, hey, at least he won't get scurvy." She headed over to her daughter at the table. "Sari, this is Sam and Dean. They used to live here."

"Hi," Sari said. Dean waved back. "Hey, Sari," Sam replied. "And I don't think I caught her name," Jenny said, looking down at Mack. "This is Mack," Dean introduced her. "So, you just moved in?" Jenny nodded. "Yeah, from Wichita."

"You got family here, or...?"

"No. I just, uh... needed a fresh start, that's all. So, new town, new job- I mean, as soon as I can find one. New house." Sam and Dean both nodded along as Jenny talked. "So, how you likin' it so far?" Sam asked. "Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home- I mean, I'm sure you had lots of happy memories here." Dean smiled weakly. "But this place has its issues."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We've got flickering lights almost hourly," Jenny told them. "Oh, that's too bad," Dean frowned. "What else?" Jenny paused for a second, almost like she was hesitant to continue, then went on. "Um... sink's backed up, there's rats in the basement." She paused. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain."

"No," Dean shook his head, not offended in the slightest. "Have you seen the rats or just heard scratching?" She frowned, thinking for a moment. "It's just the scratching, actually." Sari looked up at her mother. "Mom?" Jenny knelt down next to her. "Ask them if it was here when they lived here."

"What, Sari?" Sam asked. "The thing in my closet," she answered. "Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets," Jenny said, looking over at the brothers. "Right?" Sam nodded. "Right. No, no, of course not." Jenny explained, "She had a nightmare the other night." Sari shook her head. "I wasn't dreaming. It came into my bedroom- and it was on fire." Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

"You hear that? A figure on fire," Sam said as they headed out to the car. "And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?" Dean queried. "Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit."

"Peerit," Mack said, looking up at her father. Dean groaned and Sam winced guiltily. "Sorry," he muttered. "Forgot." Dean shook his head, picking Mack up. "It's whatever. I'm just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin' true." Sam continued, a panicked tone to his voice. "Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it's the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?"

"I don't know!" Dean snapped. He opened the back door of the Impala, working on strapping Mack back into her car seat. "Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?" Sam pressed. Dean slammed the back door of the car angrily, rounding on his brother. "Or maybe it's something else entirely, Sam, we don't know yet."

"Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We gotta get 'em out of that house." Dean nodded. "And we will." He started to turn away, but Sam stopped him. "No, I mean now." Dean gave him a look. "And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story she's gonna believe?"

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Dean noticed Jenny peeking out the window at them. "Come on, we can't have this conversation here. Let's go." Sam huffed, but circled around to get in the passenger seat of the Impala. They drove to the local gas station and climbed out to continue talking. "We just gotta chill out, that's all," Dean said. "You know, if this was any other job, what would we do?" Sam sighed. "We'd try to figure out what we're dealin' with. We'd dig into the history of the house."

"Exactly, except this time, we already know what happened," Dean nodded. "Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?" Dean swallowed. "About that night, you mean?" Sam nodded. "Yeah." Dean shrugged, taking a deep breath. "Not much. I remember the fire... the heat." He paused. "And then I carried you out the front door."

"You did?" Sam asked, shocked. "Yeah, what, you never knew that?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head. "No." Dean pressed on, refusing to dwell. "And, well, you know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was... was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her."

"And he never had a theory about what did it?"

"If he did, he kept it to himself," Dean answered. "God knows we asked him enough times." Sam took a deep breath. "Okay. So, if we're gonna figure out what's goin' on now... we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it's the same thing." Dean nodded in agreement. "Yeah. We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people that were there at the time." There was a pause. "Does this feel like just another job to you?" Sam asked. Dean didn't respond for a moment.

"I'll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom. Watch Mack." He walked away, rounding the corner and stopping right outside the bathroom door. He pulled out his phone. "This is John Winchester. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean at 866-907-3235," the voicemail sounded followed by a beep.

"Dad? I know I've left messages before. I don't know if you'll get 'em." Dean cleared his throat. "But I'm with Sam and... and Mack. 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..." he paused, voice breaking as he tried to pull himself together, "... I don't know what to do." Tears started to escape down his cheeks as he finished up. "So, whatever you're doin', if you could get here. Please. I need your help, Dad."

He hung up, closing his eyes as more tears threatened to fall.

After a local mechanic that used to run his garage with John told them John had gone to a palm reader in town, the boys found contact information for one Missouri Moseley. When they arrived, waiting on the couch in the front entry, Missouri escorted a man out of the house. "Alright, there. Don't you worry 'bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you," she told him. The man thanked her and she closed the door behind him. "Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin' the gardener," she said. "Why didn't you tell him?" Dean asked.

"People don't come here for the truth. They come for good news," she answered. The boys just stared at her. "Well? Sam and Dean, come on already, I ain't got all day." She left the hall, heading into the living room, and the brothers exchanged a look. They got up, following her into the living room. "Well, lemme look at ya," Missouri laughed. "Oh, you boys grew up handsome." She pointed at Dean. "And you were one goofy-lookin' kid, too." Dean glared at her while Sam smirked.

"Sam." Missouri grabbed his hand. "Oh, honey... I'm sorry about your girlfriend. And your father- he's missin'?" The boys both stared at her in shock. "How'd you know all that?" Sam asked. "Well, you were thinkin' it just now," she replied. Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, where is he?" Dean asked. "Is he okay?" Missouri was quiet for a moment, just staring at him for a moment before glancing at Mack balanced on his hip and back at him. "I don't know," she settled on answering, clearly not saying what she really wanted to. Dean silently cursed himself for thinking about how terrified he was to have his father around his daughter again.

"Don't know?" he echoed out loud. "Well, you're supposed to be psychic, right?" Missouri frowned. "Boy, do you see me sawin' some bony tramp in half? You think I'm a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in the room, but I can't just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please." Sam and Dean sat down on the couch, Missouri taking a seat in a chair on the opposite side of the coffee table. Dean transferred Mack from his hip to his lap, the toddler staring wide-eyed at the psychic across from them.

"Oh, you're an observant little thing, aren't you?" Missouri smirked, eyes twinkling as she stared back at Mack. "W-what?" Dean asked. "Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, Imma whack you with a spoon," she snapped at him instead of answering. "I didn't do anything!" he defended himself. "But you were thinkin' about it," she pointed at him. Sam grinned widely as Dean raised his eyebrows. Again, he tried to push all thoughts of his fear of being around his father again to the back of his mind, but by the look Missouri was giving him, it was no use- she knew already.

"Okay," Sam interjected, drawing the attention away from his brother. "So, our dad- when did you first meet him?" Missouri settled back in her seat. "He came for a reading," she explained. "A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say... I drew back the curtains for him." Again her eyes flickered to Mack on Dean's lap. The young girl was being uncharacteristically quiet; she hadn't even asked Dean for her rabbit that had fallen on the floor like she would have normally. She was just staring at Missouri with her big hazel-green eyes.

"What about the fire?" Dean asked. "Do you know about what killed our mom?" Missouri nodded. "A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin' I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing."

"And could you?"

"I..." Missouri trailed off, shaking her head. "What was it?" Sam pressed. "I don't know," she murmured softly. "Oh, but it was evil. So... you think somethin' is back at the house?" Sam nodded. "Definitely." Missouri's frown deepened. "I don't understand," she said. "What?"

"I haven't been back inside, but I've been keepin' an eye on the place, and it's been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin' up now?" Sam shook his head. "I don't know. But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house happening all at once- it just feels like something's starting."

"That's a comforting thought," Dean grimaced.

They went back to their old house with Missouri to let her look around for herself. After spending some time in Sari's room- Sam's old nursery- Missouri informed them that whatever was in the house wasn't the creature they were looking for, but there were two spirits haunting the place. She put together some bags of herbs and roots that she claimed would purify the house completely. So, after sending Jenny away with her kids, they got to work.

They each took a floor, trying to go quickly before things got too bad. Sam took the upper level, Dean remained on the main floor and Missouri went down to the basement. Dean put Mack into Ritchie's play pen out of the way while he worked. He started breaking a hole in the drywall with a small ax. Behind him, a drawer started opening by itself. "Da da!" Mack cried. Dean turned slightly, ducking down just as a knife hurled itself into a cabinet right next to where his head had just been. He dragged a table in front of himself, blocking more knives from hitting him and quickly stuck his bag in the hole he'd created.

He rushed upstairs to help Sam, who had a lamp cord wrapped around his neck. Dean kicked a hole in the wall, putting Sam's bag inside and a blinding white light left the room. Once the spirit was gone, Dean headed back over to his brother, who was completely weak on the floor. He unraveled the cord from around his neck and pulled him into a fierce hug. A few hours later, they reconvened with Missouri inside a very messy kitchen.

"You sure this is over?" Sam asked her. "I'm sure," Missouri answered. "Why? Why do you ask?" He shifted in place. "Never mind," he sighed. "It's nothin', I guess." Just then, Jenny got back with Sari and Ritchie. "Hello? We're home." They entered the kitchen, and Jenny's eyes widened as she looked around at the mess. "What happened?"

"Hi, sorry," Sam apologized. "Um, we'll pay for all of this." Dean shot his brother a confused look. "Don't you worry," Missouri chimed in. "Dean's gonna clean up this mess." Dean just stood there, not moving. "Well, what are you waitin' for, boy? Get a mop." Dean handed Mack over to Sam, walking away. "And don't cuss at me!" Missouri called after him. He continued to walk away, muttering under his breath. A little while later, the boys and Missouri left the house.

"Missouri, would you mind looking after Kinley for a few hours?" Sam asked. "Wait, what?" Dean asked. "I just... think we should stake out the house tonight... just to be safe," Sam said, shifting uncomfortably again. Missouri was quiet, studying him for a moment as Dean started to protest. "I'd be happy to look after her," she cut Dean off. "You boys be careful now, ya hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sam muttered.

Missouri entered her house carrying Mack, pausing as soon as she was over the threshold. "You should know better than to hide from me, John Winchester," she called out. From the shadows of the hall, John emerged into the light. Instead of looking at Missouri, his gaze was locked on the young girl in her arms, a scowl on his face. "Why is that thing with you?" he asked.

"She is with me because your sons are staking out your old house and asked me to watch her," Missouri snapped. "And if I hear you refer to your only granddaughter as 'that thing' again, Imma smack you." John continued to scowl, tearing his gaze from Mack to stare at Missouri. "She is not my granddaughter," he spat. "She has no relation to me."

"She's your son's daughter, so biology would beg to differ," Missouri argued. "Oh, come on. You and I both know Dean isn't actually my son. He's a product of that damn one-night stand Mary had after one of our arguments." Missouri was silent, pushing past him into the living room. She set Mack on the floor, taking out some toys for her to play with from the diaper bag she'd been given before turning to face John once more. He had moved to hover in the doorway, observing quietly.

"The boys still don't know."

It wasn't a question, but John nodded in confirmation anyway. "Why would they?" Missouri pursed her lips, shaking her head. "You're playing a dangerous game, John, keeping all these secrets from your boys. They deserve honesty from their father." John didn't respond right away, looking past at her at Mack playing on the floor. "They're fine," he said. "When they need to know more, they'll know more. Until then, they have exactly what they need to get the job done."

Mack had stopped playing, turning her big hazel-green eyes to look at the two adults. John squirmed in place, looking away from her. The look in her eyes reminded him too much of how Dean used to look at him; that curiosity as he wondered why his father wouldn't give him any sort of approval. Wouldn't give him the same sort of praise that Sam received. There were still times- when Dean didn't think he was paying attention- where he would look at him like that. It made him sick.

"You said the boys are back at the house?" he changed the subject. "Sam seemed to sense something I couldn't after we put the spell bags inside to get rid of the spirits. He wanted to stake it out." John frowned. "You don't know what?" Missouri shook her head. "No... he was hesitant to share. He still doesn't fully understand his abilities or what is happening to him." She glared at him, and he knew she was thinking of the other secrets he was keeping from Sam and Dean besides Dean's biological father.

"I'm going to lay down, if that's alright," he mumbled. "Let me know if you hear from the boys."

Sam was right to worry. The spirits showed up and attacked Jenny and her kids. Sam and Dean managed to get them out, but Sam was grabbed by an invisible force. Dean grabbed an ax and a rifle from the trunk, breaking the door down to get back inside to save his brother. He found Sam pinned to a wall with a figure on fire in front of him. "No, don't! Don't!" Sam yelled when he raised his rifle. "What, why?!"

"Because I know who it is. I can see her now."

The fire disappeared, leaving behind the form of Mary Winchester, exactly how she had been the night she died. Dean's expression immediately softened, and he lowered his rifle slowly. "Mom?" he asked softly. Mary smiled, stepping closer to him. "Dean." Tears formed in Dean's eyes as she turned back, going over to Sam once more. "Sam," she said. Sam was crying as well as he looked down at his mother. Her smile faded as she stared back at him. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Mary didn't reply, walking away from them and looking up at the ceiling. "You get out of my house. And let go of my son," she ordered. Once again, she burst into flames. When she was entirely engulfed, the fire reached the ceiling and disappeared. The force holding Sam against the wall was released, causing him to fall to the floor. He headed over to Dean, the brothers staring at each other, stunned. "Now it's over," Sam said.

The next morning, Dean stood by the car, looking through the box of photos Jenny had found. Missouri had come back over with Mack, who was strapped into the back seat. "Thanks for these," he told Jenny. "Don't thank me, they're yours." Dean put the box into the car. Up at the house, Missouri came out and joined Sam on the steps. "Well, there are no spirits in there anymore, this time for sure," she said.

"Not even my mom?"

"No."

"What happened?" Sam asked. "Your mom's spirit and the poltergeist's energy, they canceled each other out. Your mom destroyed herself goin' after the thing." Sam frowned over at Missouri. "Why would she do something like that?" Missouri's eyes twinkled as she smiled at him. "Well, to protect her boys, of course." Sam nodded, tears in his eyes. Missouri moved to put her hand on his shoulder, but stopped herself. "Sam, I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked. "You sensed it was here, didn't you? Even when I couldn't." It was the same observation she'd made to John the previous evening. "What's happening to me?" Sam choked out. Missouri frowned, silently cursing John Winchester for keeping the secrets he was from his boys. "I know I should have all the answers, but I don't," she told him. "Sam, you ready?" Dean called over.

Sam nodded, heading down the steps over to the car. Jenny thanked all of them, heading back into the house. "Don't you boys be strangers," Missouri threatened them, pointing her finger in Dean's face again. "We won't," he promised her with a smile. "See you around." She waved as they pulled out of the driveway, heading out of town.

She headed back to her house, where John was still there, waiting on the couch. "That boy... he has such powerful abilities. But why he couldn't sense his own father, I have no idea," she murmured. "Mary's spirit- do you really think she saved the boys?" he asked. "I do."

John nodded sadly, twisting his wedding ring on his finger. "John Winchester, I could just slap you," she threatened again. "Why won't you go talk to your children?" He shook his head, tears in his eyes. "I want to. You have no idea how much I wanna see 'em. But I told you last night. I can't. Not yet. Not until I know the truth."