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"Drawing?" I sat next to Sam with my ball of yarn as he continued coloring.

"Yeah," He picked up a different color. "Jess said this kind of helped her after the demon attack. I thought I would try it out."

"She wanted to stay with us, you know."

"This isn't the life she deserves." Sam continued scribbling. "I'll be dead before she can become a Hunter."

"But Sam–"

"She knows how to defend herself against every monster I know." Sam sighed as he put his color pencil down. "With how headstrong she is, I wouldn't be surprised if she started hunting part time. Like you did. Least I can do is teach her how to protect herself. Like what Dean did with you."

"With me?" Should I make a blue penguin?

"You think he wants you to go on salt and burns and rougarou hunts on your own?"

I shrugged. "That's fair, I guess. How do you know she won't become an actual hunter though? You know, cause I turned out to be one when Dean called me." Nah, too adventurous. Maybe a blue baby doll.

He fell silent for a moment before grabbing another color. "I'll prevent it for as long as I can. But for now, she has a family, she has a job, newspaper editor."

"Oh she got it?" I already had a rainbow set of doll babies though.

"Yeah. Said she might become chief editor next year if the promotion goes through as planned."

"Congrats to her." Ugh what to make.

"Thanks. I'll tell her that."

I finally decided on a design. Dolphin. Sam and I fell into silence as I tried to figure out how I wanted to go about this.

"Do you think it's helping?" I unfurled the yarn and started working the end of the blue yarn into a slip knot.

"Kind of." He pulled back slightly to observe his handiwork. "It's helping me make sense of my nightmares. It feels better when I put it on paper, you know? And I feel like there's too much for words to express what's going on."

I wrapped the yarn around my finger and pushed my hook in. "If it works, it works."

We sat in comfortable silence as he continued scribbling and I continued crocheting.

"Pass me the white yarn, would you?"

"Sure."

…

"Sharpener."

"Here,"

…

"More paper?"

"Yes please."

…

Until Dean barged in through the door with food. Sam hurriedly shoved his artwork under a bag on the table. Dean clearly spotted it but didn't make a comment. "I brought grub," he said instead. "Rabbit food for Sammy bunny. Chicken bowl for the resident princess. And burgers for the only real man."

"You're gonna get a stomach ulcer if you keep eating like that." I passed Sam's salad to him and took my own food from Dean who had already started eating.

"Haven't gotten one in my several years of life." Dean shrugged.

"I hope you get one soon." Sam huffed.

"Did you two find any cases?" Dean asked as he sat down across from us.

"Nope." Sam shifted uneasily. "I was helping Sharon with her yarn."

Sure he was. "He was." I helped him lie. But Dean obviously knew the truth. "You wanna find something for us instead? I just started on my dolphin."

"Fine." Dean moved to put his feet on the table.

Oh hell nah. "Feet off the table." I stabbed his shin with the plastic knife in my hands.

"Yeah, no one wants to see your disgusting shoes." Sam added.

"Both of you, go to hell." Dean scoffed but he didn't try to put his feet up again. He started banging away on the laptop while simultaneously licking a horrifying amount of cheese off his fingers. "I think I found a few candidates for our next gig." I passed my ball of yarn to Sam so he could cut it. "A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali — its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas." I grabbed a different blue color and looped it through the color I'd just ended. Sam watched with amusement. "And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times." Oh shoot, the yarn was the wrong thickness. I reached into my bag to pull out a different one. Hopefully this thickness was right… Was that a picture at the bottom of the bag? "Any of these things blowin' up either of your skirts?"

"Sam, is this yours?" I showed Sam the picture.

He reached out eagerly for the small piece of paper. "Yeah, where was this? I thought I lost this ages ago."

"Bottom of the yarn bag." It used to be his old school bag. Until he'd left it at Bobby's to go to Stanford.

"Do you two ever listen to me when I talk?" Dean complained.

I ignored Dean's whining. "Doesn't this look familiar?" I squinted at the picture of Sam from when he was a baby. I fished for the drawings Sam had stuck under a random bag.

"Dude, listen to me when I'm talking!"

"Oh, you're right." Sam held the printed picture next to his drawing. "The tree. It's the same one."

"What's the same one?"

"It's the same as this one too." I compared all of the pictures. The same tree.

"Will someone tell me what's going on? What tree? And why is Sam tryin' to be Picasso?"

"You know Picasso?" Sam looked impressed with his brother.

"Oh, so now you hear me." Dean crossed his arms in a huff.

"Alright, big man." I patted Dean's shoulder. "No need to get all twisted up about this."

"Oh yeah? My wife is scheming with my baby brother and you're telling me to not get upset?"

"Yes, that's what your wife is telling you."

"Then I tell her to shut up." Dean pulled me down to kiss me on the lips.

"Seriously? Sam's watching."

"He didn't care when he was driving Jessica into the bed two days ago."

"I thought we said we weren't gonna talk about that." Sam grumbled. "Anyways, Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean tore his eyes away from me to look at Sam.

"All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right?" Sam showed Dean the picture. "The house where Mom died?"

"Yeah." Dean grew quiet.

"And it didn't burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?" Sam looked like he was panicking. But also hopeful. This must be the episode where Mary's spirit saved the two boys.

"I guess so, yeah."

"I know where we have to go next."

"Where?" Dean looked uncomfortable. I rested a hand on his shoulder to remind him he wasn't alone.

"Back home –- back to Kansas."

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Dean flared.

"Dean, just listen to him." I slipped my hand under his flannel to rub circles on his clothed shoulder.

"Why would you think that?" He grabbed a pen and tapped it rapidly on the table.

"Uh… it's just, um… look, just trust me on this, okay?" Sam turned around to leave.

"Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?" Dean stood up too, gently taking my hand off his shoulder.

"Yeah."

"Come on, man, that's weak." Dean blocked the door so Sam couldn't leave. "You gotta give me a little bit more than that."

Sam glanced back at me. I nodded encouragingly. "You guys are gonna have to talk about this sometime." I grabbed both the brothers' arms and sat them across from each other at the table. "Do you two want space?"

"Can you stay?" Sam whispered.

"Yeah, sure." I sat down next to him.

Dean glanced in between the two of us. "Am I gonna find out you two are getting under the sheets together or what?"

"Now is not the time for your jokes." I tapped his shoe with mine. "And no, we're not getting freaky under the sheets."

Sam finally cut in. "I have these nightmares."

"I've noticed." Dean deadpanned.

"And sometimes… they come true."

The older brother was stunned. "Come again?"

"Look, Dean… I dreamt about Jessica's death — for days before it happened."

"Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence. Besides, Jessica didn't die, did she?"

"No, but she was meant to. She didn't die because Sharon changed the course of events. I dreamt about blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn't do anything about it 'cause I didn't believe it. That would have actually happened if Sharon didn't do anything. 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?"

Dean stood up shakily from the chair to go and sit on the bed instead. I hadn't seen him shaken up in a while. "I don't know," he whispered.

"What do you mean you don't know, Dean? This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and tried to kill Jessica! Hell, it tried to kill Sharon too!"

Dean was taking in shallower and shallower breaths. "All right, just slow down, would ya?" He stood up and started pacing. "I mean, first you tell me that you've got the Shining? And then you tell me that I've gotta go back home? Especially when…" Dean looked like he would pass out. His face had gone pale. No doubt the memories from twenty two years ago were coming back. I touched his hand and guided him back to the bed where he sat down with his head in his hands. "When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?"

"Sam." I shushed the younger brother when he opened his mouth ready to argue. "Let's take a minute, yeah?"

Both brothers nodded. Sam sat down on the bed opposite the one Dean and I were on.

"When did these dreams start?"

"A couple nights ago."

Okay. "And how long did it take for the fire at Stanford to happen after your dreams started?"

"About a week."

"So can we assume this woman will be okay for another day?"

Sam pressed his lips together. "It doesn't feel like it'll happen tonight. No."

"Then let's let Dean figure things out." I rubbed Dean's back.

"And then we'll go?"

"Sure. let's sleep on it tonight. And we can leave tomorrow morning. That okay with everyone?"

Dean nodded. As did Sam.

That night, none of us slept. Dean insisted on me reading him a book. I had his head tucked against my chest and his arms clinging onto me desperately. And even though Sam pretended to be asleep, he was listening to me read too. I could hear him make shuffling noises he only made when he was awake in bed.

But if it helped give both the boys peace, or even just one of them, I didn't mind reading aloud all night.

Since no one slept, we managed to get out of the house by 6:00 AM for once. A few hours of nonstop driving later, we were in Lawrence, Kansas. I parked next to the Impala and waited for the brothers to step out.

Sam looked ready to go. Dean not so much.

"You gonna be all right, man?" Sam worried.

"Let me get back to you on that." Dean replied.

Sam glanced at me and nodded. I nodded back. Sam led us up to the front door. Dean silently trailed behind. I chose to bring up the rear. Make sure the boys were still okay.

Jenny opened the door when we knocked on it. Sam stiffened at the sight of her.

"Yes?" Jenny said softly.

"Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but we're with the Federal–" Dean started.

"I'm Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean. And that's his wife, Sharon. We used to live here. You know, we were just drivin' by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place. Kind of… show her around what our childhood home used to look like too."

"Winchester. Yeah, that's so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night." Jenny laughed and opened the door wider.

"You did?" Dean looked shocked.

Jenny stepped aside to let us in. "Come on in."

The house was huge. It had looked humongous from the outside, but it looked even larger from the inside. The layout was quite similar to Bobby's place. But it felt too big, too empty. Like something was wrong with the place. Dean was still taking in the sight even though Sam had moved in right behind Jenny. I nudged Dean to move along from the doorway. He walked slowly, his movements stiff. I kept a hand on his arm to keep him from slipping too deep into his memories.

Jenny let us into the kitchen. There was a young girl sitting at the table, working on what seemed like homework. And a young toddler was bouncing in his playpen. "Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!"

Jenny laughed. "That's Ritchie. He's kind of a juice junkie. But, hey, at least he won't get dirty" She grabbed a sippy cup out of the fridge and gave it to him. I wasn't going to comment on her parenting skills, but giving babies that much juice hardly seemed like a good idea. But hey, I wasn't the mom here and moms know best right? She then introduced us to Sari. "Sari, this is Sam, Dean, and Sharon. Sam and Dean used to live here."

"Hi." said Sari from her book.

"Hey Sari." Sam waved back.

Dean stood awkwardly in his own old home's kitchen. He cleared his throat. "So, you just moved in?"

"Yeah, from Wichita." Jenny answered with a smile. "Do you guys want anything to eat? Or drink?"

"Water is fine." I chimed.

"You got family here, or…?" Dean continued.

"No. I just, uh… needed a fresh start, that's all. So, new town, new job– I mean, as soon as I find one. New house."

"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." As happy as they could get. Dean smiled so weakly at the comment. "But this place has its issues."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked earnestly.

"Well, it's just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We've got flickering lights almost hourly."

That had Dean's attention. "Oh, that's too bad. What else?"

"Um… sink's backed up, there's rats in the basement." She laughed nervously when she realised she was going off on a tangent. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain."

"No, no it's fine. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?"

"It's just the scratching, actually."

"Mom?" Sari suddenly piped from her spot at the table. Jenny kneeled down next to her. "Ask them if it was here when they lived here."

"What, Sari?" Sam knelt down on her other side.

"The thing in my closet." she said quietly.

"Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets." Jenny looked at Sam and Dean with a smile. "Right?"

"Right. No, no, of course not." Sam chuckled. But I could see the gears in his head turning. Something was here. Poltergeist to be specific. And Mary.

"She had a nightmare the other night." Jenny explained.

"I wasn't dreaming. It came into my bedroom– and it was on fire."

Fire. Mary. She was protecting the little girl.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other knowingly.

"You hear that? A figure on fire." Sam said as soon as we left the house.

"And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit."

"Yeah, well, I'm just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin' true."

"Well, forget about that for a minute." Sam grabbed my shoulder with a panicked look. I tried not to wince at the force he was holding me with. "The thing in the house, is it the thing that killed Mom and tried to kill Jessica?" He then turned to Dean with wide eyes.

"I don't know!" Dean was starting to panic too.

"Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?"

"Or maybe it's something else entirely, Sam, we don't know yet."

Yeah, they were both panicking. This wasn't good. "Boys, calm down."

"Well, those people are in danger, Sharon. And it might be the same thing that killed Mom and came after Jess. How am I supposed to calm down?" Sam turned back to look at the house. "We have to get 'em out of that house."

"And we will." Dean said firmly.

"No, I mean now." Sam started walking back up the path.

Dean marched up and blocked his brother's path."And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she's gonna believe?"

Sam looked at me and Dean pleadingly. "Then what are we supposed to do?"

We ended up at a gas station to grab food.

"You two just need to relax and do what we do on any other case." I told them.

"Okay," Dean ran his hands down his face. "So if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?"

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

"Exactly, except this time, we already know what happened." Dean quipped.

"Yeah, but how much do we know?" Sam rambled. "I mean, how much do you actually remember?"

"About that night, you mean?" Dean's hands brushed against mine, seeking comfort.

"Yeah." Sam swallowed dryly.

I encased Dean's hand in mine, gently squeezing. Sam clenched his phone in his hand. I could see his finger hover over Jessica's number.

"Not much. I remember the fire… the heat." Dean sighed. "And then I carried you out the front door."

"You did?" Sam sounded surprised.

"Yeah, what, you never knew that?" Dean scoffed.

"No." Sam whispered.

"And did you know that?" Dean asked me.

I nodded. "I know everything."

He turned to Sam again. "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?" Sam asked.

"If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times."

"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." He turned to me to confirm. There was nothing I could say to that.

Dean slipped his hand out of my hold and clapped to get both our attention. "Okay, We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time."

Sam bristled at the matter of fact tone of his brother. "Does this feel like just another job to you?"

"I'll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom." Dean muttered and left.

"This is just another job to him." Sam laughed with disbelief. "Is this another job to you too?"

"Of course not." I took his hand in mine. "He's acting like he's fine. But you know he's not."

Sam pressed his lips together as he realised that Dean had gripped my hand so tightly there were red marks left on my hand. "I wish he would talk to me. He talks to you. Sometimes Dad, but never me. It's always me who's left out. Baby Sammy needs to be protected. Always." he said bitterly. "I can handle it. I can handle the truth. But why won't they tell me anything?"

"I wouldn't tell you either." I said truthfully. "You know what I used to call you? Sammy baby." I laughed at the memories."Even though you were much older than me. It felt like you needed to be protected. I know you don't need to be. You're strong, stronger than Dean in ways. You deserve to know everything. But still. It's like we all need to protect you."

"I'm 22. I'm an adult."

"I know. We all know that. But you're still our baby brother. It doesn't matter how old you are Sammy. We'll always be older than you. And always want you to be safe. We'll always try to protect you. Because that's what your elders do. Now c'mere before I change my mind." I held my arm up and motioned for him to join me in a hug. "And let your crappy elders do what little they think helps, alright? We messed up your life in ways that can't be fixed. Makes us feel better."

"Makes me feel like shit." he muttered but leaned against my shoulder anyway. "I wish you guys didn't care so much."

I clapped his back. "Sure buddy."

"Sharon?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Always, Sammy. Always."

I sat on my bike next to the Impala and flipped through John's diary and the local phonebook. A flyer with 'local psychics' was stuck on a telephone pole next to me. A few names came up, but there was one that really mattered.

"Missouri Moseley." I read her name. It always stood out from most of the characters. Missouri.

"So where we going next?" Dean said as he walked up to me. "The garage guy said Dad was looking into psychics."

I showed him the name in the phonebook, then the flyer, and then John's journal. "Missouri. Psychic."

"I always thought he meant the state." Dean slammed the journal shut and got in the car. "What're we waiting for? Let's go."

I could have sworn there were tears in his eyes.

The three of us sat in Missouri's waiting room, waiting for the sweet stout black lady to be done with the last client of the day.

"All right, there. Don't you worry 'bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you." She said as she escorted the man out. The man mumbled a quick thank you and Missouri shut the door behind him softly. "Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin' the gardener."

"Why didn't you tell him?" Dean said in confusion.

"People don't come here for the truth. They come for good news." Missouri explained. "Well? Sam, Dean, and Sharon. come on already, I ain't got all day." The three of us followed her into the next room. "Well, lemme look at ya." She laughed. "Oh, you boys grew up handsome. Hope they haven't been much of a handful for you, sweetie." I squeezed my eyes closed when she pinched my cheeks. "You are an adorable little thing. How did you end up with him?" She pointed at Dean. "And you were one goofy-lookin' kid, too." Dean gave her a scowl while Sam smirked beside him. "Sam." Missouri held Sam's hand. "Oh, honey… I'm sorry about everything that has happened. And your father– he's missin'?"

"How'd you know all that?" Sam said with wonder.

"Well, you were just thinkin' it just now."

Sam looked at her in awe.

"Well, where is he? Is he okay?" Dean was more pressed about the situation.

"I don't know." Missouri glanced at me. Did she know I knew she knew?

Dean continued. "Don't know? Well, you're supposed to be a psychic, right?"

Missouri flared. "Boy, 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 a room, but I can't just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please." There were four cups of coffee on the table. I gratefully accepted my cup. Wow, just the right amount of sugar. Sam was enjoying the one sided beatdown Dean was getting. Missouri suddenly snapped at Dean. "Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, Imma whack you with a spoon!"

"I agree." I chimed.

Dean looked shocked. "I didn't do anything."

"But you were thinkin' about it." Missouri scoffed.

Dean just stared in shock.

Sam cleared his throat and brought the conversation back to what we came here for. "Okay. So, our dad– when did you first meet him?"

"He came for a reading. 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." Wow. Missouri had been his introduction to the life. Wow. I had completely forgotten.

"What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?" Dean asked.

"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?" asked Sam.

"I…" Missouri shook her head.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. But oh… it was evil."

We spent the next few minutes explaining what had been going on in the house, and why we were here asking questions twenty years later.

"So… you think somethin' is back in that house?" Missouri said, surprised.

"Definitely," Sam answered.

"I don't understand."

"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?"

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

"That's a comforting thought." Dean muttered.

"So we're just gonna walk up to the door, tell her there really is something in her closet, and that she and her kids will die if we don't get them out?" I stared at Missouri. Like hell that plan was gonna work. It worked in the show, but was it seriously going to work just like that? I'd been impressed that Jenny had even opened the door to let in three strangers. If it were me with my kids alone in a house and two random dudes just showed up saying 'yo can we come in we missed our old home lol' I would be pulling out a rifle and a machete.

Jenny opened the door when we knocked. "Oh. What are you guys doing here?" She looked like she was in shock. Ritchie must have just been pulled out from the fridge.

"Hey, Jenny. This is our friend, Missouri." Sam introduced her.

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

"You know, this isn't a good time. I'm kind of busy." Jenny bounced little Ritchie in her arms.

"Listen, Jenny, it's important." Dean started, only to be smacked by Missouri. "Ow!"

"Give the poor girl a break, can't you see she's upset?" She looked sympathetically at Jenny. "Forgive this boy, he means well, he's just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out."

"About what?"

"About this house."

"What are you talking about?"

"I think you know what I'm talking about. You think there's something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?"

Jenny stiffened. "Who are you?"

"We're people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you're gonna have to trust us, just a little."

Jenny was either too trusting of a woman or an idiot. Who just lets strangers into their kid's bedroom? Sam, Dean, and Missouri didn't seem to find this odd at all. Was things just weird in this world? It hadn't been that bad the past few cases cause we'd kind of told everyone we were the FBI or park rangers or police or whatever. But now? Seriously?

"If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it."

"Why?" Sam asked as he looked out the window.

"This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened." Sam started looking at the room a little more closely. Dean pulled out an EMF that started whirring as soon as he brought it out. "That an EMF?" Missouri asked.

"Yeah." Dean answered.

"Amateur." Dean glared at the older woman. "I don't know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain't the thing that took your mom."

"Wait, are you sure?" Sam was surprised. "How do you know?"

"It isn't the Same energy I felt the last time I was here. It's somethin' different." Missouri opened the closet.

"What is it?" Dean looked around cautiously.

"Not it. Them. There's more than one spirit in this place."

"What are they doing here?"

"They're here because of what happened to your family. 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."

"I don't understand." Sam whispered.

"This place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It's attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead." Missouri explained.

"You said there was more than one spirit."

"There is. I just can't quite make out the second one."

"Well, one thing's for damn sure," Dean said sharply. "Nobody's dyin' in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?"

We ended up at Missouri's house again, making hex bags of sorts.

"So, what is all this stuff, anyway?" Dean asked even as he put a sprinkle of some weird herb into his pouch.

"Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt, a few other odds and ends." Missouri pulled out a few more stuff.

"Yeah? What are we supposed to do with it?" Dean lifted his pouch to the sky.

"We're gonna put them inside the walls in the north, south, east, west corners on each floor of the house."

"We'll be punchin' holes in the drywall. Jenny's gonna love that."

"She'll live." Missouri pointed out.

I finished up my pouch with a slip knot. "I'm done."

"And these'll destroy the spirits?" Sam asked.

"It should. It should purify the house completely. We'll each take a floor. But we work fast. Once the spirits realize what we're up to, things are gonna get bad."

"Attic too?" I looked at her.

"Attic too." Missouri nodded. "One of us will have to take the basement."

"They have basements in Kansas?" I felt lightheaded. So everyone would have one floor to be half killed by the poltergeist in. Great.

"Look, I'm not sure I'm comfortable leaving you guys here alone." Jenny said as she held onto Ritchie and Sari.

"Just take your kids to the movies or somethin', and it'll be over by the time you get back." Missouri repeated and Jenny hesitantly left the house to us.

"So, work fast." I inhaled sharply and got to work. I was to take the second floor, Sam was going to take the attic, Dean the basement, and Missouri the first floor.

I ran up the stairs, watching as Sam easily overtook me with his longer legs. Well he was fast. I found the first wall and held my hammer tighter. Sorry wall. I swung into the thin walls and tossed the first pouch in.

Furniture started flying. But I was prepared. I'd been practicing on how to get a better grasp of my powers, and now I could throw things pretty much at will with just a small nosebleed and a light headache. It was a pretty fair trade considering Sam had to drink demon blood to actually do what I could do.

Next wall. I ran for the next one, flinging all the obstacles out of my way. But I hadn't exactly expected to be choked by a G string. Why was a G string here anyway?

I spotted the washing machine out of the corner of my eye and held back an internal groan. The poltergeist had started pulling out clothes to use as a weapon.

I managed to will the top of the washing machine shut. I clawed at the cloth around my neck and with a little bit of maneuvering got a finger to wiggle free through the elastic. This better be a clean one. I tore at it with all my strength and I was free from the poltergeist.

I stumbled in the direction of the next wall and brought the hammer down on that one too. I threw the next bag into the newly formed hole and raced for the last two walls.

"Which ones left?!" Sam yelled as he made his way down the stairs.

"East!" I yelled back. "I'll take North!" I passed him the last hex bag and we got to work.

I was starting to get dizzy. Using my powers, getting choked, and having to fight off G strings was taking its toll. I used what little strength I had to make a hole in the wall and throw in the hex bag. Done. Had Sam gotten his one in? I went to check on him. I felt weak, but if Sam was hurt then surely I could do something to help him.

I slid through the doorway as soon as I heard a scream. Sam was helplessly pinned against the wall by a table. He let out another scream as the edges dug into him.

"Sam!" Dean yelled as he too got to us."

Hex bag. I spotted the bag next to Sam. I ran and picked it up. "Are the rest done?!"

"Yeah!" Dean replied good.

I used the momentum to kick a hole in the wall and threw in the last hex bag.

A flash of white light blinded all of us and I knelt down to shield my eyes from it.

It finally disappeared and I collapsed on the floor with a sigh of relief. Done. It was done.

"Little help here…" Sam mumbled from where he had been pinned.

Dean grunted as he joined Sam in pushing the table off of him. And the two brothers stumbled to where I was still catching my breath from the ordeal.

"We're done?" Dean panted.

"Should be." Missouri huffed as she too made it up the stairs.

"Never again." I officially hated poltergeists. "That thing was crazy."

"Sharon,"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"You have blood on your nose."

"I'll get it later."

"We did break the drywall." I told Jenny. "But we've left enough cash to cover the expenses. And then some." I smiled when Ritchie grasped my jeans out of curiosity. "You could buy some juice for him."

"Juice!" Ritchie immediately perked up.

"We're done cleaning up." Dean groaned from behind me.

"It sucked." Sam sighed as he came to stand next to me.

"But you all should be fine now." Missouri said as she came to stand next to me. "You and your kids are welcome to my place for tea any time."

"Juice! Juice! Juice!"

"You're an addict, aren't you?" I held out my hand and Ritchie smacked it with all the strength of a toddler. "Good one."

"All right, so, tell me again, what are we still doin' here?" Dean said from the driver's seat.

"I don't know. I just… I still have a bad feeling. Sharon also hasn't made a move." Sam pointed out.

I nodded. Something was going to happen.

"Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over." But Dean obviously didn't understand. Who even was Zelda Rubenstein?

"Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that's all."

"Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now." Dean scoffed and leaned back. "Can I get a massage at least, sweetheart?"

"Dean. Look, Dean! Come on, Sharon!" Sam suddenly said.

I snapped up straight and followed Sam as he ran into the house.

Jenny was banging on the windows on the second floor. The thing inside must have gotten to her. Whatever Zelda thing Missouri did, didn't work.

"You two grab the kids. I'll get Jenny!" Dean instructed. And he split off from us at the landing.

Ritchie was in the room next to Sari's. "Get Sari, Sam!" I yelled.

"Got it!"

He and I split up too, only to reconvene as a spirit on fire appeared in the hallway.

I jumped in fear at the sight, but calmed myself down. It was Mary, just Mary. She was protecting us. She wasn't going to hurt us.

Ritchie wailed in my arms as I ran down the stairs as quickly as I could.

Something suddenly grabbed my leg. I dropped Ritchie to the floor. "Alright, Ritchie. Run." I held back a scream when I felt the thing digging into my ankles. "Run, Ritchie! Run!"

Sam came rushing downstairs too. "Sam! Take the kids and go!"

"But what about– Oh my God." Sam finally spotted the blood on my ankle.

"Go!" I yelled as the thing tried to drag me back inside.

I kicked at the invisible creature. A scream tore through my chest as it threw me against the wall. I reached for my gun and shot at where I thought the thing was. But nothing happened.

"Sharon!" Dean and Sam were immediately at my side.

"The kids?" I looked around.

"Safe." Sam said as he tried to help me up. "We have to get out of here."

"Can't stand." My leg hurt like hell. It was throbbing and bleeding and the wound stung to high heavens.

The fiery figure appeared in front of us out of nowhere.

Dean raised his gun to shoot. I grabbed his arm weakly.

"No, don't! Don't!" Sam said a little more strongly. He stood between Dean and the figure. "I know who it is. I can see her now." Sam whispered.

The fire started to dissipate from around the figure. And the beautiful blonde woman with green eyes came in sight.

"Mom?" Dean whispered. His gun slowly lowered.

I held myself up using the broken wall as Dean walked closer to his mom.

"Dean." Mary said softly, before walking towards Sam. both boys' shoulders started to tremble as they held back tears. "Sam." Mary's beautiful smile faded. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Sam begged.

But Mary didn't reply. She walked away from both the boys and looked up at the ceiling of the house. "You get out of my house. And let go of my kids." She demanded.

One more time, she exploded into flames, and I could feel tears run down my cheeks. The brothers just had to watch their mom set ablaze one more time. As if once wasn't hard enough. They had to say goodbye again.

I slid down the wall as I felt the force vanish with Mary.

"Now it's over." Sam whispered.

But no, it wasn't. The fifteen year long tragedy had barely just begun.

"Do you know what Mom meant by she was sorry?" Sam asked from the other bed. I couldn't answer that. "So it was something significant." Sam looked down with a bitter smile. "I hate that the answers are right in front of me. Literally. But we can't do anything about it."

"Me too." I hated it too. I hated not being able to speak. I hated that every time I picked up a pen or tried to type out what I wanted to say, I was forced to stop by the ringing in my ears. I wanted to scream out everything that happened in their lives. But nothing.

I crawled up to the pillow on my and Dean's bed. "You should get some sleep."

"Dean's not back yet." Sam pointed out.

"He's just getting some things sorted out."

"Like the pictures."

"Yeah, like the pictures." I glanced at the clock that read 11:27 PM. "Go to sleep Sammy. It's been a long and rough few days."

"You're right." He stared at the ceiling. "I don't think I can sleep though."

"Want a lullaby?" I walked over to sit on his bed.

"Should you be walking on that?" He looked over worriedly at my bandaged foot.

I shrugged. "I'll live. Once Dean gets me those painkillers, I think I'll be fine. Cramps hurt almost as bad."

"TMI." he mumbled but rolled so that he was facing my direction.

"So lullaby." I teased. "Big boy Sammy wants big sister to sing him a lullaby."

"Shut up." he huffed.

I laughed and turned off the lights to sit down next to his pillow. His head found my waist and he wrapped his arms around me like a pillow. I patted his head rhythmically with my thumb and started humming. I could feel Sam's tears start to seep through my nightgown.

The lullaby tended to bring me to tears too. It was the song my grandma used to hum to her kids and then my mother and her sisters to me and my cousins. I'd forgotten the lyrics a long time ago. My mom hadn't sung it to me since I'd turned eleven. There hadn't been a need to. Did I crave it? Yes, God yes. What I wouldn't give to hear the nonsensical boring hum of my mom's voice cracked singing. The lyrics never made sense to me. Felt like a bunch of gibberish, other than the few words about fishermen tucking their fishermen kids under fishermen nets. But I wished I'd paid more attention. Now I was scared that the tune would slip out of my head, and I wouldn't be able to remember the feeling of being patted to sleep. I kept my own breathing steady though as Sam's breathing turned into snores. I closed my eyes and ran my fingers over the gun on the nightstand.

I couldn't leave the brothers like this. Something had to be done.

Like… I shuddered at the thought that just crossed my mind. It would work. Technically. Theoretically it would work.

No.

Oh, hello there Angel living rent free in my head.

That thought. You can't be serious.

But I was. The boys would be happy. They would have one big happy family.

You can't seriously think that.

I could. And I could very much go through with the plan.

Then what about me?

Hah! An Angel was worried about what I was gonna do? It wasn't like they hadn't tried stopping me from doing things.

I can only prevent you from revealing the future, to maintain the balance in this world.

So I could do what I'd just thought of… Thanks Angel in my head. That made things easier.

No. There is no way.

I can and I will.

No. Absolutely not.

Shut up. This was my life. I chose whatever I wanted to do with it. If the Angel needed another place to live, then it could start paying rent for a less suicidal person.

… Think about it. I'll be back.

Silence reigned once more as I leaned against the headboard. Could I actually go through with that plan?

The door slowly clicked open and a tired Dean slipped inside.

He spotted me trapped by Sam. "Hey," he whispered. "Is he asleep?" I nodded in response. He took out a bottle of pills and placed it on the nightstand. "Tylenol. Extra strength." He placed a bottle of water for me too. "How bad does it hurt?"

"A bit." I twisted the cap off and popped three into my mouth.

"Let me see." Dean knelt by my feet to undo the bandages. "It's not bleeding anymore."

"Sam's good at sowing. He should be a seamstress."

"Human seamstress maybe."

He came back up to me and started unentangling me from his brother. I moved to get my legs off the bed but Dean had other plans. He slipped an arm under my knee and back and hoisted me up.

"Really? Princess carry?" Despite my snarky remark, I smiled at him.

"Had to assert dominance after the stunt he pulled with my wife."

"Like asking me to sing him a lullaby?"

Dean smirked. "He wanted a lullaby?"

"I offered and he didn't say no."

Dean kissed me on the lips before placing me down gently on our bed. "He's got Jess already and he still wants you, huh? Cheeky bastard." He pulled the covers over me, making sure I was tucked in comfortably. "Tell me if your leg starts hurting."

"And how are you?"

"Me? I'm peachy." He changed his clothes right in front of me. I looked away out of basic decency and respect. I felt his arms wrap around me a moment later and felt him nuzzle into my hair. "Hey, Sharon?"

"Yeah?" I held his hands around my waist.

"Things are gonna be okay, right?" I squeezed his hands. It wasn't a response I had. "You hate watching tragedies. You wouldn't have watched this show, or whatever, if people died."

Yeah, about that. I'd been told it was about two goofy brothers that went off hunting and killing non-human things for fifteen seasons of comedy. But it had been a complete lie.

"Everything's gonna be fine." He said. But it was more for him than it was for me.

"Hang in there." I finally said. "Hang in there, Dean."

I could feel his hands start to shake along with his breath. "Let it all out." I turned so I could press him against my chest instead. He willingly slid down the pillow and pulled me closer. "Let it all out."

A/N: I may have five exams, two of which are due tonight, but a girl always works better under pressure. The brain juices only flow when the world is about to end after all AHAHAHAHA. And what in the world did Sharon come up with that had the Angel scared for its life? :O I came up with that plot line last night LMAO. I'll see y'all soon :)