For once I'm actually writing chapters ahead! Weeeee! I'm kinda invested in this now so, expect frequent updates (unless I get lazy…like usual). I'm hoping for some reviews, but if not that's okay :) But here's the next chapter yeah!

Disclaimer: I only own Lucy.

~o~

Chapter 3
The Psychic and the Poltergeist

"We just gotta chill out, that's all. If this was any other kind of job, what would we do?" I hopped up on the trunk of the Impala as Dean tried to look at our situation as practically as possible. "Hey, off the car." I rolled my eyes and slid back to the ground.

Sam sighed. "We'd try to figure out what we were dealing with. We'd dig into the history of the house."

"But that's out," I intervened. "Because we already know what happened."

"Yeah, but how much do we know?" Sam asked. "I mean, I don't expect you to remember anything, Luce, but how much do you remember, Dean?"

I shifted uncomfortably again, still hiding what I truly remembered. I wasn't sure how my brothers would react to my secret. I saw a freaking face—one that I knew wasn't a family member. That wasn't bound to go over too well. I didn't want to freak them out more than they already were. At least, not now. Not while we were working a job that took place where our insane journey had begun in the first place.

"Not much," Dean said. "I remember the fire…the heat. Dad practically threw Lucy in my arms, and—after he grabbed you, he told me to get you two out. I carried you both." I quirked an eyebrow at my brother. Even back then he was our sole protector.

"You carried us?" Sam questioned, a childlike tone finding its way to his voice.

"Well, I sorta dragged you, but yeah. You never knew that?" Sam shook his head in response.

"What do you remember, Sam?" I asked curiously. He paused for a minute, considering.

"If I'm being honest here…nothing," Sam answered, shaking his head slightly.

"You were three, it's selective I guess," Dean noted. "Well, you know Dad's story. Mom was….was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her." I almost shuddered at the mental image.

"Did he ever have a theory about what did it?" Sam inquired.

I shook my head no while Dean answered with a sigh, "If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows I mean, we asked him enough times." I huffed in agreement.

"Dad's never really talked about that night. He always got really upset or pissy whenever we mentioned it," I added.

"Yeah, I mean, even after all this time, he's never really moved on, has he?" Sam agreed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Okay. So, if we're gonna figure out what's going on now, we have to figure out what happened back then, and see if it's the same thing."

"Yeah. We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time," Dean continued, nodding along.

"Sounds like a plan!" I commented with false cheer, crossing my arms over my chest.

Sam half smiled, letting out a low chuckle. "Does this feel like just another job?"

I imitated him. "Not at all." Dean didn't reply, and instead excused himself to the bathroom. When he was gone, I leaned slightly to my left, so I bumped Sam lightly with my shoulder affectionately. He smiled slightly down at me.

"You think we're pushing this whole thing too hard on Dean?" Sam asked, actually considering it for the first time. I shrugged.

"Dean's tough, honey. I'm just as worried about him as you are—hell, I'm worried about all of us," I replied ponderously. "But this is what we do. That house isn't normal; we know that better than anyone. Especially Dean." Sam nodded, looking down at his feet. I bumped him again. "Hey, if anything maybe it'll give us some peace of mind."

Sam laughed. "We're hunters, Lucy. I think that's the last thing we'll have." I snorted along with my brother. Even if we were to kill this bitch demon, I don't know how much it would actually change. It didn't matter how much I wished for it; killing this demon wouldn't bring Mom back.

~o~

My brothers and I decided on a place called "Guenther's Auto Repair", a garage that our dad used to own. There was one man there who knew our dad from 20 years ago, claiming to have co-owned it with him. From the owner, we discovered that Dad had begun reading strange books and gone to see some sort of palm reader, which of course, he didn't know the name of.

Later on, we had browsed through some phonebooks, searching for local psychics or palm readers, hoping to find a match. It seemed like we weren't having any luck at first. That is, until we stumbled upon the name Missouri Mosely. Ding ding! Turns out in Dad's journal, the very first thing he had written was "I went to Missouri, and I learned the truth." We headed to the address written down in the phonebook. It wasn't too far from our old house—just a few streets away. My brothers and I entered and shrugged at each other before taking seats on the plushy couch in her living room. We must have waited only about five minutes before we finally met her.

"Don't you worry about a thing. Your wife is crazy about you," a kind voice said, leading her current client out of the house. When the woman closed the door behind him, her smile dropped and she turned to face us. "Whew…poor bastard—his woman is cold bangin' the gardener." I let out a laugh of surprise.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Dean asked, slightly amused.

"People don't come here for the truth. They come for good news."

"Kinda defeats the point of wanting to see your future, huh?" I smiled. The woman huffed.

"You're telling me," she grumbled, and began to walk away, but turned back to gesture to us over her shoulder. "Well? Sam, Lucy, Dean…come on already. I ain't got all day!" I smiled, and we followed her into the next room over. Her house was so…well, homey.

"Lemme look at ya!" Missouri beamed, laughing joyfully. "Oh you boys grew up handsome, and you were a goofy looking kid." She pointed at Dean, chuckling. I bit my lip to stop my laughter. I loved this woman. She put a hand on the side of my face. "Oh, pretty Lucy. How old are you? 20? You are gorgeous, my dear. You look like your mama. And a bit like your daddy. Got the best of both I see," she added, smiling brightly. I flushed a bit, but kept grinning like an idiot.

She dropped the hand from my cheek and reached over to grab Sam's hand. "Sam…oh honey. I'm sorry about your girlfriend. And your father…he's missing?" Both of my eyebrows rose, and I shared a surprised look with my siblings.

"How'd you know all that?" Sam asked.

"Well, you were thinking it, just now," Missouri replied, suggesting it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do you know if he's okay?" I asked nervously, picking at the hem of my sweatshirt. Missouri looked at me sadly.

"No, I'm sorry, honey. I don't."

"Aren't you supposed to be a psychic?" Dean remarked skeptically. Missouri turned and gave him the sassiest look I have ever seen.

"Boy, you see me sawing some bony tramp in half? You think I'm a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can't just pull facts out of thin air," she sassed sharply. I snickered uncontrollably, especially at Dean's dumbfounded expression. "Sit! Please."

We did as she said; I took a place in-between my brothers. As soon as Dean sat down, Missouri immediately started nagging him. "Boy you put your foot on my coffee table I'm gonna whack you with a spoon."

"I didn't do anything!"

"Well you were thinking about it." I didn't even bother holding back my laugh this time, and Sam easily joined me. Did I mention I adored this woman?

"Okay," Sam started, leaning forward intently. "So, our dad—when did you first meet him?"

Missouri informed us that she was the one who made him aware about our kinda stuff. You know—the demons and vampires and other evil stuff that we hunt. The truly disturbing thing wasn't that she didn't know much about what was in our house—she had investigated shortly after the fire. It was that by the little information she knew about it, she could tell it was evil.

I sighed uneasily, sharing a look with my brothers. Sam touched the back of his hand softly with mine in comfort. "So," Missouri continued, watching us carefully, "you think something's back in that house?"

"Definitely," Sam answered, nodding.

"The little girl living there now thought she saw something too. Something in her closet that was, wait for it, on fire. Bit of a not-so-coincidental coincidence if you ask me," I added in.

"I don't understand," Missouri said, sitting down. "I haven't been back inside, but I've been keeping an eye on the place, and it's been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it acting up now?"

"I don't know," Sam responded. "But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once –- it just feels like something's starting."

"And we're being pulled right in. Awesome," I sighed sarcastically.

~o~

The door of our old house opened to reveal a clearly distressed Jenny. Immediately, concern took over me. "Sam, Dean, Lucy—what are you doing here?"

Sam and I both put on smiles for the woman and her son. "Hey Jenny. This is our friend Missouri," Sam introduced. Missouri stepped forward, smiling gently at Jenny.

"If it's not too much trouble," Dean started, "we were hoping to show her the house, for old time's sake."

"And, um, pick up those pictures," I said reluctantly. "Listen, we can come back if this is a bad time—"

Jenny looked obviously relieved when I said this. "Yeah, I'm sorry; I'm just kind of busy right now." Dean caught her from closing the door, and I shot a look at my oldest brother.

"No, listen Jenny, its important—ow!" I couldn't stop the laugh that resulted when Missouri slapped my brother right upside the head—something I had been only moments away from doing myself.

"Give the poor girl a break. Can't you see she's upset?" the older woman scolded him. "Forgive this boy, he means well—he's just not the sharpest tool in the shed. But hear me out." I snorted once again. Dean shot me a glare.

Jenny stared at her nervously. "About what?" she asked, but I had a feeling she already knew.

"You think there's something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?"

Jenny faltered, fear in her eyes. "Who are you?"

"We're people who can help—who can stop this thing," Missouri replied, "but you're gonna have to trust us a little." Jenny inhaled, clearly doubtful and terrified. She glanced at each of the faces in front of her, and, after what seemed like hours, decided we were worth trusting.

~o~

Missouri had led us throughout most of the house, investigating each room carefully, just waiting to feel something, anything that was off. One of the last rooms we entered was a smaller upstairs room painted a light blue. I immediately felt…wrong. Like I needed to leave at once. Like something didn't want me there.

"If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it," Missouri stated, after a long while. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dean frown.

"Why?" Sam asked after an once-over of the room.

"This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened." My eyes widened, and I instantaneously glanced up towards the ceiling.

"You mean…here?" I practically whispered, pointing up at the ceiling.

"Mhmm." A chill ran up my spine. It was so surreal. I was standing right where my mother died. It was like I could almost hear the flames crackling and our Dad screaming for her. I was more than a little bit freaked out and anxious, but oddly I anticipated every new development in this case. Beside me, Dean pulled out his EMF detector. Sam wrapped an arm around my waist as Missouri nodded at Dean, saying, "That an EMF?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. He only looked up when Missouri scoffed.

"Amateur." I fought a smile. Missouri took a moment to take in the room, observing everything she could. "I don't know if you kids should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain't the thing that took your mom."

Sam's grip around my waist tightened as my brothers and I started in surprise. I ran a hand through my long hair. "Wow, kinda both I guess. Are—are you sure?" I stuttered emotively. Missouri nodded in response.

"Wait, how do you know?" Sam questioned.

"It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It's somethin' different." She yanked the closet doors open. I bit my lip. I didn't have a good feeling about this.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"Not it…" Missouri turned to face us from her position inside the closet. "Them. There's more than one spirit in this place."

"What are they doing here?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, how'd—how'd they all get here?" I added onto my brother's question.

I detected sympathy in her eyes as she moved over towards us. "They're here because of what happened to your family," she responded sadly. "You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds, and sometimes wounds get infected."

A brief image of the blurry face engraved in my mind flashed before my eyes. The face I saw couldn't be evil, could it? Twenty years and I had never once thought of it as anything more than a playful friend. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was the thing that had killed my Mom. This time it was my grip on Sam that tightened and I reached for Dean's hand. "I don't understand," Sam said his voice on the verge of trembling.

"This place is a magnet for paranormal energy." Missouri paused, trying to be as gentle as possible. "It's attracted a poltergeist—a nasty one—and it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead." I took in what she told us, and raised my eyebrows, recalling a fact from earlier.

Breaking away from my hold on my older brothers, I moved toward the closet, peering inside as if the poltergeist would be there, waiting for me to look upon it. "The little girl—Jenny's daughter. She said she saw this—this figure. A flaming figure in this closet. Was that it? The poltergeist?" I inquired fervently. Missouri's brow furrowed, pondering this.

"I don't know exactly what that is, but what I'm thinking is that's another one of the spirits in this house. It could be anything, dear," she spoke softly.

I chewed my lip again. Another spirit. Another flaming spirit. Another flaming spirit in this house. The house in which my mother died…from fire.

No. It couldn't be.

I shook it off, tuning back into the conversation. "Well one thing's for damn sure," Dean interjected. "Nobody's dying in this house ever again." I inhaled sharply, trying to calm myself from my frantic thoughts. "So whatever is here, how do we stop it?"

Back in the kitchen, Missouri had set us up with tons of supplies that were supposed to purify the house and destroy all the spirits. Once we were set up, we sent Jenny and her kids away to the movies so they wouldn't get hurt and we each decided on a particular floor or room. Missouri took the basement, Sam the second floor, Dean in the kitchen, leaving me with the living room.

Alone in the living room, I inspected every corner. It was decently sized, equipped with a tan couch and chair, a brown wooden coffee table to match those in the kitchen and a fairly average TV, with two identical shelves filled with books and movies on either side of it. I sighed, strutting over to the wall and taking out my trusty silver knife, preparing to place the purifying bag into it. I really hoped this would work like Missouri insisted it was going to. Jenny and her family were nice people who deserved to live somewhere safe, even if it was in a house with so many dark, dreadful memories latched to it.

I should have been watching, but I was too lost in my own thoughts. Before I could react, the large tan couch was speeding towards me. It hurdled right into me, slamming me hard against the wall, sending my knife cluttering to the floor. I cried out in pain as my back and head hit the hard surface rather painfully. I struggled against it frantically. I could barely move a muscle. My knife began to rise and was now hovering in front of me, right between my eyes. I felt tears of panic forming.

From the kitchen, I heard several plunking sounds in succession—almost like knives sticking into a surface. And from upstairs came a loud thump and numerous gasping sounds. It wasn't only me; my brothers—my family—were in trouble too. I felt my frustration build up to a bubbling point.

"NO!" I screamed, shoving the couch in what I thought would be a useless attempt to free myself. In shock, I watched as the large tan couch—easily 80 pounds heavier than me—lifted clear off the ground and landed with a crash a few feet away from me. The force of it shoved me back against the wall, causing my back to ricochet off of it, and I stumbled to the ground, along with my knife.

Above me, the TV began to quiver. I reacted as quickly as possible, and rolled to my left. The
TV crashed right next to me, missing me by mere millimeters. I lay on the ground, panting and in complete shock. I mean, I was strong. But I wasn't strong enough to lift a 200 pound couch all by myself.

How. The fuck. Did I do that?

Before I realized what was happening, Dean had crouched beside me. "Lucy!" he cried, checking me over for injuries. "You okay?" he asked worriedly, helping me to my feet.

"I'm fine, I promise."

We heard another thump from upstairs and met each other's scared expressions. "Sam!" we exclaimed together and raced up the stairs. We found him in one of the bedrooms, a power cord wrapped around his neck choking the life out of him. I almost screamed, bolting to his side.

Dean and I both struggled with the strangling chord, desperately trying to rip it off his neck. But the chord wouldn't surrender. Sam's eyes began to droop close, and little by little his motions relaxed. "No, Sammy, don't you dare!" I growled. Maybe if I could just get one of those weird power surge things again—like the one I just had.

But Dean moved away. I had started to harshly question him, until I realized what he was doing. He rapidly shoved one of the bags into the open hole in the wall. Instantly, a bright, piercing light shone about the room. This light was similar to the light I remembered on my Mom's death day. Dean had closed his eyes against it, but I watched it from start to finish, somehow able to withstand against something that should have blinded me.

The chord fell from Sam's neck. My brother gasped for long awaited air. I felt the biggest sense of relief wash over me. Once Dean had pulled the chord away, we grabbed him, clutching onto our fortunately still alive family.

~o~

The house was a mess once we got through with it. I felt so bad for this family—all their shit was basically scattered among their house in disarray. Missouri made Dean clean it up. I have said it before and I will say it again. I. Love. That. Woman.

She assured us this whole thing with the poltergeist and our house was over. But Sam wasn't convinced. He felt like there was something bigger—something more dangerous coming. And to be honest, I kinda understood. But that wasn't the only reason I was reluctant to leave the house. I just felt like there was something missing. Something that we haven't dealt with yet. And I knew exactly why I felt that way. Before we left, I excused myself to the upstairs bathroom. I paused for a moment outside the door of Sam's old nursery—the place it all started. It was a stretch…but I had to try. I gulped, walking into the room and silently examining it for a moment. My eyes froze on the ceiling.

I took a giant calming breath. "Mom?" I called out softly. I bit my bottom lip as I glanced around the room. I didn't really expect an answer—but I was hoping for one so badly. "It's me. It's, uh—Lucy. I know you only knew me for like a day, but. I, um…listen, I don't know if you're actually here. I hope you're not. You—you deserve something much better. But," I felt tears forming in my eyes as I spoke. "Are you here? Mom? Tell me."

"Lucy!" I heard Dean call from downstairs. I wiped my eyes, sniffing stubbornly. Clearing my throat, I yelled back that I was coming. I moved to leave, pausing in the doorway.

"…Bye, Mom."

~o~

A bit of an inside on Lucy's upcoming story line there :) Hope you like!