Supernatural series (including a little sister)

by immieimke

Hi everyone! Here is (hopefully one day) the whole supernatural series, rewritten to how I'd like to see it. Right now, I'm not yet making a lot of changes (apart from an added female character of course), but later I probably will! I'll see how it goes. I'm still working through season two now, but I am having a lot of fun! Hopefully, you'll have fun too! I don't own supernatural!

17. Season 1, Episode 17, Hellhouse

Hell house

I wake up from what sounds like a new song coming on, on the old little radio in the car, accompanied by a bump in the road. I squint my eyes at the bright light and then groan, stretching my arms over my head. My muscles stiff from all the sitting I've been doing since this morning. I can hear Dean humming and when I look over, I see I wasn't the only one who fell asleep when we were racing across hours of boring high way. Sam is spread out on his seat as much as he can with his tall body, his head leaned back and mouth hanging slightly open. I smile softly and catch Dean glancing at me through the review mirror. He gives me a cheeky wink, before looking beside him at Sam. I watch with curiosity as he reaches beside him for the empty cup of ice cream that's still there from the stop we made earlier. He grabs the plastic spoon and then focuses on putting it into Sam's open mouth without waking him up. "Really?" I whisper at him with a smirk. "Shush." Is Dean's short answer. He manages to succeed in his task and in triumph, he looks back at me. "Here, take a picture." He hands me his phone, eyes back on the road. Sam does look very silly and I make sure I have a few good ones, before handing Dean back his phone. "Watch this." Dean chuckles and very suddenly starts singing along with the song, turning the volume way up. I laugh as I watch Sam startle awake, instantly confused by what is in his mouth. He smacks at the spoon, spitting it out. Dean's face wears the biggest smile as he drums his hands on the steering wheel, singing along even harder. Sam groans, wiping his mouth and lookin very disgruntled. I slowly lean back in my seat, grinning. "Ha. Ha. Very funny." Sam grumbles, clearing his throat. Dean turns the music back down, chuckling to himself. "Hehe. Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas, kind of gotta make your own." He points out to Sam, still letting out a few chuckles. "Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean. We're not gonna start that crap up again." Sam shakes his head, sounding irritated. "Start what up?" Dean asks him innocently, glancing over. "That prank stuff. It's stupid and always escalates." Sam tells him, looking directly at him. Suddenly, war flashbacks of all the prank wars my brothers had when they were younger, flash before my eyes. "Gah, oh no." I wholeheartedly agree with Sam, shaking my head. I always got dragged into those stupid pranks, always. And in the end, they would always blame me. Also, the pranks would start innocently, like what Dean did just now, but would grow bolder and bolder. Escalating it indeed always did, Sam was right. "Aw, what's the matter, Sammy? You afraid you gonna get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?" Dean blatantly ignores my cry of protest and glances over at Sam with a grin. "Alright, just remember you started it." Sam exclaims, a little twinkle appearing in his eyes. "Ah ha, bring it on, baldy." Dean challenges with a laugh. "You two better keep me out of it." I warn from the backseat, glancing from Sam to Dean. "You always say that, but it's always you who ends up involved in everything!" Sam accuses, pointing a finger at me. "No, it's not!" I argue back, hoisting myself back up in my seat. "Yes, it is!" Sam is not backing down and Dean breaks it up with a laugh. "Shut up, both of you." He jokes with a shake of his head. Sam turns back around in his seat and looks outside with a huff. "Where are we, anyways?" He asks. "Two hours outside of Richardson." Dean tells him lightly, nodding his head with the music that's still on in the background. "Alright, gimme the lowdown again?" He motions for Sam to tell him why we're two hours from Richardson again. Sam grabs the papers lying on the dashboard and squints his eyes, repeating the info we have on the case we're on. "About a month or two ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house." He starts. "Haunted by what?" I ask, not sure if we know that already. "Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit." He answers me shortly. "What the hell does that even mean?" I question with a frown. "Well, that this spirit does not like women much." Dean shortly explains. "Yeah, legend goes; it takes girls and strings 'm up in the rafters." Sam shortly glances back at me. "Great." I mutter sarcastically. "Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar." Sam continues. "Anybody ID the corpse?" Dean asks and Sam glances back down at the papers. "Well, that's the thing. By the time the cops got there, the body was gone. So, the cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains." He answers. "Maybe the cops are right, kids can be pretty stupid." I huff, ignoring the look of disbelief Sam throws my way. I know I'm technically still a kid, but sure as hell don't feel like it. Not with what happened two weeks ago. Kids normally don't get kidnapped by a psycho chick, controlling demons. But, whatever.

"Maybe, but I read a couple of kids firsthand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere." Sam throws a knowing look at Dean. "Where did you read these accounts?" Dean reacts, eyebrows raised skeptically. Sam lets out an awkward chuckle, quickly glancing sideways. Clearly hesitant to answer that. "Well, I knew we were gonna be passing through Texas, so uh, last night I served some local paranormal websites and I found one." He then explains, purposely not looking at Dean. "What's it called?" Dean asks, looking like he already knows where this is going. Sam lets out another awkward chuckle, slowly shaking his head. ." Is his answer and now I'm letting out a chuckle. "Wow, creative." I comment sarcastically. Dean has the same reaction. "Let me guess, streaming live out of mom's basement?" Sam smiles brightly. "Yeah, probably." He agrees. "You know, most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'm in the persqueeter." Dean points out, the familiar annoyance clear in his voice. He and dad used to find a lot of those so called 'ghost hunters' on their cases, dad was never a fan.

"Look, we let dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way, and now we don't know where the hell he is, so mean time we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out." Sam starts his monologue, but the notion of dad and how we left him two weeks ago makes me tense up instantly. We'd had countless of discussions about it already. Well, Sam and Dean had. Sam being highly convinced that letting dad go was a big mistake, that we were now back to square one and he kept reminding Dean that he only agreed to let dad walk, because Dean said so. Dean, on the other hand, kept violently pointing out that we made dad weak if we were close to him and that we needed to trust him. I'd tried to keep myself out of their discussions as much as I could, not ready to talk about this yet. We hadn't spoken at all about what had happened that night. The attack, the whole Meg situation. Meg, who was still out there. I notice my whole body starting to shake and my mind spiraling out of control, now that I am thinking about it and instantly try to distract myself. I relive what happened enough in my dreams, there is no point in thinking about it. Sam and Dean at least think so. The only thing Dean had done, that first week after, was forcing me to heal and patching me up as well as he could. Just like he promised dad. The Daeva's had damaged my shoulder pretty badly and I still had the scars on my legs from where it tore through my skin. I'd also been sore for days, just like my brothers. They'd also been fussing over me way more than normal, which was starting to get on my nerves. The only thing I wanted to do, was continue my training. Never was I gonna let someone jump me and overpower me to use as bait again. It was the most helpless I had ever felt and I never wanted to feel that way again.

"Alright, so where do we find these kids?" Dean asking where we are heading, pulls my mind back to reality and I quickly place my hands on my lap to help stop the shaking. "Same place you always find kids in a town like this." Sam answers drily and Dean smirks, stepping his foot on the gas.

Three hours later, with the sun having already gone down, we arrive at the 'Rodeo Drive' in the middle of town. A big, fast-food outlet, indeed filled with all sorts of high school students. People my age. It takes us about an hour and to be fair, the conversations we have in there are lifting up my spirits. Every teenager, from the guy behind the counter serving the food to the girls all sitting there drinking their milkshakes, tells us a different story. The girls mention a place with black walls and a dead girl with red hair, the guy out front sitting there with his football jersey still on mentions pentagons painted in blood and a dead girl with black hair. All of them sounding stupid, carefree and very busy with their own lives. Scared, but only a little. The stories they tell do have a few facts that all of them seem to remember vividly. One; they'd all entered that same haunted house. Two; there had been a dead girl hanging from the rafters. Three; they'd all heard of this place from someone named Craig.

"We need to find Craig." Is the first thing Dean says when we leave the place, ears ringing from all the information we just heard. Information that doesn't even add up. "I'll see if I can find any Craigs, they're all going to the same high school anyways." Sam suggests, turning around and motioning for me to give me his bag. I hand it to him with a scoff. "Their lives seem so different…" I mention softly, looking outside to the group of teenagers, chatting and laughing with each other. "Can still be you, pup." Dean tells me matter of factly, his eyes on Sam. I chuckle sarcastically. "Yeah, no, that ship had sailed." Dean frowns, looking back. "What do you mean, that ship hasn't sailed. That's gonna be you next year, I'll make sure of it." He tells me, sounding way too confident. "Dean, I don't think I'll ever fit in with any of them. I never have." I protest. "What? You had friends, right?" Dean seems very confused. "She's had friends, sure. But fitting in? Dean, that's a whole different story." Sam joins the conversation, understanding what I am talking about all too well. "You care too much what others think, that's the issue." Dean reacts in irritation, before turning around in his seat and flashing me a smile. "Honey, I'm sure everyone who meets you loves you." He states and with that, the conversation is over. I wisely stay silent. He doesn't have to know how bad some of the experiences were when I did go to a few high schools. Between all the hunting and searching for that demon dad had done, we had settled down in places for longer periods of time. Mainly because Sam and then me had needed to go to school somewhere, which had forced him to rent a few houses here and there and staying put. It never took more than a few months, before he'd pull us back out and would cross the country, enrolling us into another school. Sometimes we did a few weeks online as well. It had always been chaos and had prevented me from ever being able to settle down and actually make some friends. I still talked to some I met along the way, but I never fit in. Never.

"Ah, I think I found him. Craig Thurston seems to be our guy. Works in a music store a few blocks from here." Sam turns his laptop and shows Dean the address. "Okay, let's move." Dean starts the impala and drives us around, looking for that music store. I am also looking, but not for a music store. I need a place where I can force my brothers to give me more shooting lessons and I haven't seen a good one yet. I'd seen plenty on the way here, but sadly Dean had only complied once since yesterday morning.

When we arrive and see the store is still open, even though it is past dinner time, Dean does agree to take me into the store to fish for the information we need. Covered up as reporters, looking for a good story. Three is too obvious, so Sam grumpily stays behind. He doesn't look that sad about it, though, and I am sure he hasn't forgotten Dean's prank on him earlier. This does give him some time to think of a comeback. He isn't gonna let it go, I know him well enough.

Dean and I enter the store and to be fair, we don't really look like reporters. Dean in his jeans and biker jacket, me in a plaid blouse that I have tied together in the front. The guy we need to speak to isn't hard to find, he comes right up to us when he sees us enter. "Hey there, can I help you with anything?" He asks in a friendly tone, putting the LP's he has in his hand with the other stacks we are standing next to. "Yeah, you uh, you Craig Thurston?" Dean asks him. "I am." The guy confirms, glancing from Dean to me. "Ah, well we're reporters from the Dallas morning news. I'm Dean, this is Skye." Dean introduces us, pointing a finger at me. I give the guy a friendly smile back. "No way, heh. Yeah, I'm uh, I'm a writer too. I write for my schools lit magazine." Craig answers, sounding impressed as he walks around the stacks to put more LP's back in their place. "Ah, that's really cool." I tell him, trying to sound enthusiastic. I myself don't really like writing, I always hated the essays and book reports I had to write for my classes. I know Sam's the opposite, which is obviously why he got accepted to Stanford and studied law for a year and a half. I could never do that. "Uh…" Dean awkwardly scrapes his throat and eyes me with an eye roll. "We're uh, we're doing a report on local hauntings and we spoke to a few people that told us you might know of one." He then continues, looking at Craig. "You mean the 'hell house'?" Craig asks, slightly taken aback by that question. "Yeah, that's it." I nod at him, noticing Dean is getting distracted by all the good music around him. "I didn't think there was anything to the story." Craig tells me, his eyes slowly scanning my face and looking slightly confused. "Well, what is the story?" I ask him quickly, hoping he doesn't realize I might even be younger than he is. Craig lets out a sigh. "Well, supposedly back in the thirties, this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his daughters." He starts reluctantly, walking back towards the counter to the left of us. I follow him slowly, grabbing Dean's arm to pull him with me. Now is not the time to go looking for good LP's. "It was during the depression, his crops were failing and he didn't even have enough money to feed his own children." Craig continues and I lean on the counter, he has my undivided attention. "So, I guess that's when he went off the deep end." He finishes, glancing down. "What happened?" I ask him curiously. "Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death, so he attacked 'm…" Craig has a serious look om his face now. "They screamed, begged for him to stop, but… he just strung 'm up, one after the other. And then when it was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself." Craig shrugs, as if that isn't the most gruesome story he's ever told. Dean knowingly glances at me. "Now they say his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside." With that last sentence, I can feel Dean's protective stance beside me and he takes back the lead. "Where did you hear all this?" He asks, his tone a little skeptical. "My cousin Dana told me, I don't know where she heard it from." His answer is vague and he seems hesitant all of a sudden. "You gotta realize, I didn't believe this for a second." He adds with another shrug. "Something tells me you do, now." I point out to him. Craig looks at me and shakes his head a little. "To be honest, I don't know what the hell to think." He tells me, before glancing back at Dean. "Look, I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real, and she was dead. This was not a prank, I swear to god. I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?" Now he just sounds apologetic, like he's convincing us of something. "Maybe it's better if you don't." I tell him, giving him a reassuring smile. "Thanks." Dean mutters to him, grabbing my arm and pulling me with him. We walk towards the exit and my eyes fall on all those LP's. "How many did you want to buy?" I ask Dean with a knowing grin. "Twelve." Is Dean's short answer and with a laugh I walk back out the door he's holding open for me.

We get back to Sam and repeat the story of the house back to him. He listens with great interest, agreeing that it's a rather gruesome story. Then he says something that pisses me off right away. "Well, that leaves you out of the picture when we go see that house in the morning." He doesn't look at me as he motions for Dean to start the car. "Yeah, sure. Leave me at a motel room, cause that went so well the last time." I sarcastically throw at his head and the whole atmosphere changes. "Hey, that's got nothing to do with this." Dean tells me with clenched jaws, driving off, back towards the other part of town. "Sure it hasn't." I mutter, crossing my arms in irritation. "Meg isn't here, Skye. She went after you specifically, no one here even knows who we are." Sam continues, his tone strangely in control. "Well, we don't know that, do we?" I snap at him, focusing my eyes on the dark landscapes outside. "Yea, we do. You are perfectly safe here." Dean states and with that he ends the conversation. I know we'll be fighting about this the rest of this hunt, so I'll let it go for now. I'm too tired anyways.

We find a motel room and once we're checked in, I claim the bathroom. I take a long and well deserved shower and don't come out until Sam has angrily knocked on the door twice, exclaiming loudly that there are more people who need to use the bathroom. When I step outside in my sweats and my hair wrapped up in a towel, I ignore him and his bitchy face on purpose. He retaliates by unhooking said towel and my wet hair falls in front of my face. When I turn around in anger, he's already closing the door. I can still see a glimpse of the large grin on his face and resist the urge to kick the door back open and hit him. Sometimes, living with two brothers can be so annoying.

With a deep sigh, I wrap my hair back up in the towel and fasten it on my head. I catch Dean's glance, he's sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand. "I still don't understand how you do that…" He states drily as he looks at the towel. "It's like math, you wouldn't understand it anyways." I tease him, letting myself drop on one of the beds in the corner. "You callin' me dumb?" Dean challenges, eyebrows raised and a grin on his face. "No, of course not!" I dramatically gasp at that accusation. "Screw you." Dean chuckles, shaking his head.

I crawl into the bed and lie awake for what feels like hours. I can hear Sam come back out of the bathroom, hear my brothers having one beer together and then hear them making themselves ready for bed after a funny little discussion of who sleeps on the couch, which Dean obviously wins. It's deep into the night when sleep catches up with me. I wake up twice, feeling disoriented and uneasy. Like I dreamt, but don't remember it.

The morning comes and Sam gets us some breakfast from the store. As he's gone, Dean demands to see my leg. "It's just healing, Dean." I tell him through a yawn, but upon seeing his glare I do pull up my sweats to show him. He takes his time to look at it and then insists on looking at my shoulder, but like I suspected, there isn't much more to do then just letting it heal. I hate the pained look that always comes back on his face when he's looking at my injuries, though.

Sam comes back, we have breakfast and then they make themselves ready to go take a look at that so called 'hell house'. I stay silent as I watch them pull on their jackets, a familiar tension spreading through me. When Dean walks towards the door, I block his way. "You're not gonna take me, but are also leaving me unarmed and defenseless?" I challenge him, crossing my arms. "Darling, there's nothing here but a couple of kids. The real danger is in that hell house, which is why I'm not taking you in the first place." He tells me with a sigh, trying to be patient. "Sure, that I can understand. But give me at least one gun." I ask, my tone more pleading now. "What, so you can shoot at the wall when danger does come?" Sam can't help but give me a snarky remark and even though I know it was meant to tease me, him pointing out my lack of skills infuriates me. I go off on him about it, blaming them for my skillset not being good yet and Sam quickly starts to regret his comment. "Hey, I was joking!" He hushes, stepping towards me. "I don't care, Sam. It's true, isn't it? I couldn't shoot Meg when she came for me and I goddamn know that, okay?" I yell at him and Dean, who was just watching me in surprise for a while, decides to step in. "Hey, stop with the attitude." He tells me strictly, reaching inside his belt for his gun. "Here, okay? But you better not use it unless something is really threatening you!" He pushes the gun inside my hands, eyes wary. I instantly relax now that I have a weapon and slump my shoulders. "And lose the anger, you only use weapons with caution and focus." He adds, tone a little softer. "Can you bring me some practice material?" I ask, ignoring his warning. "Skye…" Sam starts with an irritated eye roll. Dean steps forward and places a hand on my shoulder. "Puppy, no one is ever gonna take you again, okay? I promise." He tells me earnestly. "Okay." I answer, awkwardly scraping my throat. Once that meant the whole world to me, once that could easily calm my mind. Not anymore, it wasn't enough anymore. I got taken anyways and he didn't even know.

I watch both of them leave with tensed postures and I'm sure they're gonna talk about this in the car. It doesn't matter, at least I have a gun.

Once I'm alone, worry starts gnawing at my brain and I need a distraction. I deliberate going outside to practice on my own, but eventually decide against that. If Dean finds out, he'll never give me a gun again. Instead, I take my time going through my bags. I haven't looked at what's in there in a long time and I'm sure some of it is in dire need of a change. I think I remember seeing a thrift store in this town and promise myself I'll ask my brothers if we can stop by there later.

In about two hours, my brothers return. Dean, as soon as he's inside, takes back his gun and asks me if I needed to use it. With a stoic face I tell him that even though I didn't have to use it, that doesn't mean I don't need it. Dean wisely lets that go. "Okay, so?" I glance at them with curiosity. Sam throws his head back and lets out a laugh. "You won't believe who we found at this house." He tells me, large grin on his face. "Who?" I sit down on the couch next to Dean, curiosity growing. "We met tweedle dee and tweedle dumb from that website, ." Dean explains, his eyes twinkling. "Yeah, two idiots calling themselves 'paranormal investigators'. They even had a card." Sam adds and I can't stop a huge smile from entering my face. "Really?" With excitement I listen how Dean explains that they were going on about the EMF going nuts in the house, never realizing that the electricity meter standing right outside was interfering with the signal. And that they told a story of how they saw a ghost once, which was really just a vase falling off a table. Meaning they didn't see anything. "You've got to be kidding me…" I burst out in giggles when I've heard the whole story, shaking my head in amusement. "What happened then?" I ask. "Oh, we left. Not messing with that, we'd seen enough by then already." Dean tells me with a chuckle. "Well, what did you see?" I press on. "There were some symbols drawn on the walls inside, but besides that not much. Just a creepy, old and empty house." Sam answers me, grabbing his phone to take a look at the pictures he made of those symbols. "Let me see…" I get up and walk over to him. He shows me a picture of a circle with a cross inside, drawn on the wall in black paint and proceeds to tell me about satanists and a sigil for sulfur. I listen with interest. The other symbol he shows me, I recognize. It's an upside down question mark with three lines going left and right and up from the dot in the middle. "Where have I seen that before..?" I wonder out loud and Sam frowns at me. "How the hell would you have seen this somewhere?" He asks me in surprise. "I don't know, but I recognize it somehow." I tell him, leaning my head to the side to try and figure out where I've seen this symbol before. "Dean said the same thing." Sam mutters, still a little shocked. "Alright, never mind that. You up for some research?" He glances down at me and playfully wiggles his eyebrows. "Sure." I try to contain my happiness. Anything to not be left behind again. "What're you gonna look for?" Dean asks as he gets up from the couch. "This Mordechai that Craig spoke about. Let's see if he's real." Sam tells him, motioning for me to go grab my jacket. "Yeah, good call. I'll stop by the police station, see if there's anything I can find out about that 'dead girl'." We all make our way outside and into the impala. Dean parks it by the local library and leaves it there, since the police station is only one block further. I watch him walk away and then turn around to go inside the library. Sam doesn't follow me. When I look back in confusion, he's walking back towards the impala. "What are you doing?" I ask him, watching as he starts to break into the car we just left. "Breaking in." He tells me simply and I am too stunned to speak for a second. "Sam, why are you breaking into our own car?" I then question, hurrying back to him. "Cause I need to get Dean back." Is his short explanation and that's when I understand. He's planning on executing a plan for a prank. "Dude, you know better than to screw with his car." I point out to him, casually looking around to see if anybody is watching. Sam ignores me and opens the car door, getting into the driver's seat. And there, he starts pushing every button. He turns on the windshield wipers, both front and back and turns the volume of the radio station all the way up. I watch him with a grin, shaking my head. "Alright, this'll do." He mutters when he's satisfied, getting back out and closing the door. "Is it really that easy to get into a locked car like that?" I ask, still surprised at how quickly Sam was able to get back in after Dean locked it. "Yeah, it's a good thing not many people know how to do it. This car would be long gone if anyone knew how easy it was to steal it." Sam tells me drily, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the library. "Can you teach me that trick?" I ask him enthusiastically. "All in due time." He chuckles.

We get to work in the library, looking for the house and the owner of the house. A Mordechai something, that killed his children. We don't seem to find much and definitely not evidence that the story Craig told us has any sort of truth to it. When we exit the library, two hours later, we bump right into Dean. "Hey, what'd you got?" He asks as he grins at us, happy about the timing of us both making our way back to the impala. "Well, there was no Mordechai, but we did find a Martin Murdoch. Lived in that house in the thirties." Sam explains shortly, showing Dean the book where we found that information in. I only now realize he took it with him. "Yeah, and he did have children. Two sons, though. No daughters." I add, strolling along with them. "Yeah, but there's no record of him ever killing anyone." Sam finishes, glancing over at Dean. "Huh." Dean mutters. "What did you find out?" I ask Dean with interest. "Ah, well all these kids didn't really give us a clear description of that dead girl, but I did hit up the police station." Dean starts, walking around the parked impala towards the driver's seat. "No matching missing persons. It's like she never existed." He stops and looks at both me and Sam over the top of the car. "Dude, come on man, we did our digging. This one's a bust, all right. For all we know, those hellhound boys made up the whole thing." He eyes Sam knowingly. Sam seems hesitant and glances around, licking his lips. "They sure as hell could have." I nod, understanding why Dean's calling this off. There doesn't even seem to be a dead girl, even though those teenagers did all see one. It still doesn't sit right with me, but with no leads there's not much to do about it. Sam sighs, realizing the same thing. "Yeah, alright." He gives in. "I say we find ourselves a bar and some beers and leave the legend to the locals." Dean throws us both a cheeky wink, before opening the car and getting inside. I know better than to step in yet, glancing sideways at Sam. He has bent down and is looking through the window with a smirk, waiting for Dean to start the car. "Skye, what do you say we go for a round of…" Dean can't finish whatever he was gonna ask me, because as soon as the car starts he's met with the loudest Spanish music. The windshield wipers all go off and Dean jumps in his seat, the sudden noise scaring the living daylights out of him. "WHOA, what the…" He quickly smacks at the volume button, face contorted. The music stops and with a groan, Dean turns off the windshield wipers. Sam bursts out in laughter, opening the door and dropping down into the passenger seat. He lets out a satisfied grunt, licking his finger and teasingly holding it out to sign an imaginary 'one' to Dean, before pointing back at himself. That large and smug grin still on his face. Dean, having caught on that this was Sam, stares at him with irritation on his face. "Skye, did you know about this?" He growls, throwing a wary look at me. I shake my head, ducking down in my own seat to make sure he doesn't see my smile. "Staying out of this!" I call out to him, throwing my hands in the air. "That all you got?" Dean focuses his attention back on a still laughing Sam. "That's weak, that is bush league." He mutters with a shake of his head. Sam chuckles, closing his door so Dean can drive off. And as much as I enjoy seeing Sam smiling and laughing so much, I can already feel one step closer to escalation. Dean will retaliate, I know that for sure.

Dean drives us to a bar and we actually have quite a good time there. Sam convinces me to eat one of the salads available, instead of a big burger like I would normally take and I have to say, it's not as bad as I thought it would be. I end up stealing the half of Dean's burger when he gets up to go to the bathroom. He's not amused when he gets back and we banter about it while Sam takes his time checking his email and text messages. Dean then dares me to a rematch when he sees the dartboard in the back and I gladly take it. The last time we did a round, Sam got abducted by lunatics not five minutes after and I'm sure that won't happen this time. I end up beating Dean after about four games and proudly declare myself the champion. Dean rushes forward, throwing me across his shoulder and parading me back to the table where Sam's still sitting behind his laptop, crying out that a champion can still not beat the king of darts. That has me in stitches and we both ignore Sam's bitching about us being too loud and that he can't read like this. I dare him to a round of darts after that, but he doesn't take the bait. He does promise me that he'll take me to the thrift store in the morning while we look for a new heading, claiming that he'll need to go there himself since I stole his favorite sweater. It gets later and later and eventually, Sam and I go back to the motel room together. Dean is half drunk and chatting up some women at the bar and I want nothing to do with that. Neither does Sam, which I'm happy about.

The walk is about twenty minutes, but neither of us mind and we chat along happily. I haven't felt this carefree in a long time and Sam seems to notice. "Hey, you look more cheerful than usual." He points out, draping an arm around me. "Yeah, well I had fun." I tell him, smiling at him. "I like to see you smile, you should do it more often." He tells me and I chuckle softly. "There's usually not much to smile about." I admit to him, shrugging. "Yeah, we do have difficult lives sometimes, huh." Sam agrees knowingly. "That's an understatement, but sure." I chuckle, letting out a sigh. "I get why you want to go back to school, though. After all of this is over…" I then tell him earnestly. He needs to hear it from someone. "Do you?" Sam raises his eyebrows at me expectantly. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?" I ask him. "Well, you yourself seem to want nothing to do with it." He points out. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean that I can't understand why you would." I protest slowly. Sam hums, giving me a nod. "Do you really uh… Like, if it wouldn't lead to your imminent death, would you really drop out?" Sam seems to be asking the real questions now. "I would." I confirm, looking at the ground. Sam huffs, slowly shaking his head. "You know, I uh… I think you'd be amazing as a teacher, or a cop… you're absolutely smart enough to become whatever you would want." He then mutters, eying me warily. "Is this your attempt to convince me to go have a career?" I ask him incredulously, almost feeling like he's joking. "No, I just uh… wonder." He admits to me, scraping his throat. "Wonder about what?" I ask curiously. "Wonder why you want to be a hunter so bad… I mean, it's dangerous, the food is crappy, the nights even crappier… and then I haven't even started talking about all the scary monsters that you have to fight, risking your life to save people you don't know." Sam voices his opinion and I let out a laugh. "Man, you don't like hunting at all, do you?" I glance at him and can see that's he's exaggerating. "Well, it does have its perks." He says, shrugging. "Well, I think it does." I tell him, stuffing my hands in my pocket. "I think the nights aren't that crappy, I think the food is manageable, and most of all I think it's awesome you get to save lives. Like, actually save them, make a huge difference. Kill some evil, save the innocent people, that's badass." My eyes are twinkling as I tell him what motivates me to become like him and Dean, without mentioning that the most important reason for wanting to become a hunter is because of him and Dean. Sam softly chuckles. "Badass." He repeats, shaking his head. "Yeah, plus I get to be with you." I add that last part and link my arm through his. "You are adorable." He tells me, voice filled with warmth. "Oh, shut up." I groan.

Once we've reached the motel room, I change into sweats and dive into the bed. Sam, happy he can now steal the other bed without any discussion, follows my example and soon his soft breathing is all I can hear. It's not soothing enough to make me fall asleep and when Dean comes back, stumbling into the room about two hours later, I'm still awake. With my eyes closed I listen to him stumbling around the room, making way too much noise, before grumbling something about Sam taking the bed and dropping down on the couch.

The next morning, Dean's more than happy to let Sam take me to the thrift shop and doesn't even protest when Sam takes the keys to the car, still half asleep. He does shout after us something about getting him some new jeans. Without the stress of a case and no direction yet, I feel awfully at peace as I walk around in the thrift shop in search of some new clothes. The shop ends up to be a good one. Not only do we find two new pairs of jeans for Dean, Sam gets a hold of a few sweaters and even a nice looking jacket. I also find plenty of new shirts and a new training outfit that looks like it wasn't even worn before ending up in the thrift shop, I even find running shoes at the back of a rack for only a few dollars. I let Sam pay for everything at the counter, and then suggest to go have a cup of coffee at a café close to where he parked the impala. "We should do this more often." Sam sighs in content as he sips his coffee, looking just as peaceful as I feel. "Yeah, we normally don't have the time." I nod in agreement, leaning back a little and closing my eyes to enjoy the sunlight. "Skye, what do you think about the whole 'dad' thing?" Sam drops that bomb on me after a few moments of peaceful silence and I instantly tense up. "What do you mean?" I ask him, squinting my eyes against the sunlight as I look at him. "Well, you've nicely stayed out of the discussions about that till now, which is smart, but I'm kind of curious… what do you think?" As Sam repeats his question, I realize I haven't even thought of that. Not really. Not about what I really think of it. "Uh, well…" I slowly sit up. "I uh…" I feel slightly uncomfortable and realize soon that that's because I don't get to give my opinion often. Normally, nobody really asks what I think. I just get told what to do. Sam patiently waits while I try to think of my answer. "I don't think we made the wrong decision, although that doesn't necessarily mean that leaving him was the right thing to do." I mutter, knowing very well that that's not a very clear answer. "So you do think dad's stronger without us?" I can hear the disbelief in Sam's voice. "Well, after what happened I do think not having us around makes him able to think clearer. Makes him able to make decisions without having to worry…" I glance at Sam, who doesn't look very satisfied. "But, we could help…" He states hesitantly, not sounding very sure of himself. "Could we?" I look down at my hands, feeling my cheeks flush. "I mean, you and Dean definitely could. But, I'd just be a burden." I confess. "Burden?" Sam doesn't seem to understand. "Yeah, a burden. I don't know half the things you and Dean know yet and I doubt I'll be of any use in a fight like that… I mean, even Meg realized that. She came to take me, so she could make sure everybody came running." I inhale slowly, realizing that's the first time I've said that out loud. "Skye…" Sam's tone is heavy, which makes me look up at him. "That doesn't make you a burden." He tells me once he's caught my glance. I bite my tongue to keep from protesting, just softly nodding at him. He wouldn't understand, anyways. "Can you take me out shooting? I need to work on my aim." I change the subject after a short, tense silence. Sam's about to answer me, when his phone rings. It's Dean and he has bad news. When we're in the car, driving back to go and get Dean, Sam explains that Dean just saw police racing in the direction of the abandoned house they went to look at yesterday and that he overheard people talking about an incident. Dean's ready to leave when we get to the motel, bullies Sam out of the driver's seat and this time he doesn't protest when I stay put, wanting to come with them. I guess that has to do with it being three o'clock in the afternoon, with the sun still out.

Dean drives us to the haunted house and it's the first time I get to see it up close. It's a little outside of the town, encircled by nature. Trees, lots of grass and meadows. And in the middle, is what looks like an old wooden shack, really. It doesn't look like much of a house. The wood is dark and damaged, creaks in between them. There are a few windows, all looking stained and like they're barely hanging onto their frames. It does not look inviting at all and I'm sure, at night, that it will look even worse.

"Lovely." I mutter slowly as I exit the car. There are a few police cars present, yellow tape surrounding the house, officers walking in and out. All wearing a very serious look on their faces. Outside, a little further back, are a few people watching them work. Looking like civilians, curious as to what happened. The officers outside are reading up a few statements, one of them with a middle-aged guy in a brown jacket.

We walk up to the house and I keep my attention on the officers, very curious as to what happened. We thought the case was over, already looking for a new heading. Seems that we might have made that conclusion too quickly.

The officer that's closest to us is just finishing his report with the guy in the brown jacket and walks away, ready to follow up with another task. The man turns around and sees us close, he makes eye contact with Dean. "What happened?" Dean asks him expectantly. "Couple of cops say that poor girl hung herself in the house." He tells us and his answer gives me the creeps. "Suicide?" Sam asks, looking surprised. "Yeah, but she was a straight 'A' student, with a full ride to UT. It just don't make sense." The guy seems to understand just as little as everyone else and with a shake of his head, he turns around to go back to what he was doing. I slowly glance up at the house, shivers running down my spine. Why would a girl with a full ride to college come here, to this specific house, to hang herself?

Dean takes a few steps forward and we all watch how officers come out the front door, carrying a stretcher with a black body bag. I feel sad as I watch it happen. That girl can't have been much older than me, and she's just gone. Won't ever get to go to that college, or fulfill any dreams she had. "What do you think?" Sam asks Dean, his eyes also following the stretcher with the body bag, being carried to the coroners car. Dean slowly turns around. "I think we might have missed something." He tells Sam in a heavy voice. Sam grimaces, giving him a short nod in agreement. "You need to get back to that house." I mutter softly, actually not that angry that I can't come with. Not now I've seen the house and girls my age hang themselves in there. "You damn right we do. Let's go tonight, hopefully the police and everything is gone by then." Dean announces, eying the house one last time. We make our way back to the motel room, where Dean is reminded about our little shopping trip this morning. He complains loudly about the jeans Sam chose for him, complaining they're 'so not his style' but tries them on anyways. I take my time to change into my new training outfit and decide to go try out the shoes too. Dean loudly laughs when I ask him to join me on a run and when Sam also denies my invitation, I go out alone. We have to wait until it gets dark anyways. When I get back, Sam's gotten us some dinner and we chat lightly with each other as we eat. I take a long, hot shower after and then try once again to get one of my brothers to take me out shooting. This time Dean complies, taking me on a walk until we're just outside of town close to a little wooded area. "It's shotgun time." Dean flashes me a wide grin and reaches into the bag he brought to hand me one of the larger shotguns. I take it in excitement, I was wondering when he'd get to the shotgun. We actually need those regularly during hunts, the bullets with rock salt very effective against ghosts and other creatures. Dean puts the bag on the floor and reaches in again, this time pulling out a few cans and empty bottles of beer. "Dean, there's no trashcan here." I point out to him, causing him to chuckle. "No, dumb dumb, this is for you to practice on. We need to work on your aim. I've seen it, its crap." He states with a shake of his head, flashing me a grin when I protest loudly that I can't help that my aim is bad. I watch him scan the area and then take me a little further back, to a couple of trees. "Okay, first we need to make sure you're able to hit a tree when you're aiming for it. Once that's goin, I'm gonna put up some cans and bottles and we'll move onto those." He announces, pointing to a larger tree not far from us. I take my stance, point the shotgun and off we go. It takes less time than usual for me to hit the tree, especially with some useful pointers from Dean. We're about an hour in, when I've been able to hit the tree twice, in a row. I beam at Dean when he shouts some praises at me and then watch him put up a practice area with the cans and bottles. Those are smaller to hit and a lot more difficult, it turns out. I seem to be making some kind of progress, but it's not going as fast as I want. I loudly complain about that to Dean on our walk back, the darkness having set in. Dean goes on a rampage of lecturing me about practice and then reminds me of how long it took Sam to become even a little bit good. That eases me a little and I have a grin on my face when we get back to the motel. That grin quickly washes away when I watch my brothers prepare for the 'hunt'. Wearing strictly dark clothing and bringing their big shotguns with rock salt. Dean ends up giving me his gun once again, and this time I don't need to beg for it. He seems to understand that I need it, somehow.

"Hey, be careful!" I call after them as they march out, receiving two softer smiles and a nod back. And then the motel room is empty. Instantly, I'm tense and on alert. Stupid Meg and the consequences of her taking me. When I find an episode of friends on the television, I quickly zap away and end up watching a documentary of the ocean wild life. It isn't even that bad.

A few hours later, when it's starting to get close to midnight, the roar of the impala makes me jolt. I can't help my shortness of breath and beating heartbeat, even when I know it's just my brothers coming home. I'm very curious if they found anything and expectantly look at the door. They come barging in not soon after and seem to be slightly distraught. "Hey, you okay?" I stand up in concern. "Yeah, no worries." Dean quickly waves my concerns away, flashing me a smile. "What happened?" I ask, glancing at Sam. He still seems to be catching his breath. "Well, we're dealing with a spirit all right, a nasty one." He tells me, shrugging off his jacket. "You saw it?" I slowly sink back into the cushions of the sofa. We did miss something, this is still a case. "Yeah and that damn symbol…" Dean's head seems to be on something else, muttering about a symbol. "I thought…" I start, but Sam interrupts me. "What the hell is in there? I mean, we went to the basement and suddenly there he was, with his axe, in full attack." His eyes are on Dean when he says that, but at the same time he's giving me more information. "You were attacked by an angry spirit with an axe?" I repeat, a little stunned. "Yeah, one that's immune to rock salt, apparently. Sam shot it twice, had no reaction to it." Dean confirms, kicking off his boots and sending Sam to the kitchen to get him a beer. "Wait, is that even possible?" I ask, following his movements towards the chair in the corner. He lets out a sigh as he drops down. "It shouldn't be." He mutters, clearly taken aback by what he saw in that house. "We had no chance with our shotguns, so we made a run for it." He adds. Sam comes back with the beers and hands him one. "You know, we saw those ghostbuster dudes again." He tells me, a slight twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, crap. So, did they finally get to see a real ghost?" I chuckle, making room for him so he can take place next to me on the sofa. "Yeah, I think so. We used them as bait for the cops and I think they got arrested when we bolted out of there." Sam explains, also letting out a few chuckles. "What now?" I look from Sam to Dean when silence rises, very confused. "Well, we need to dig back into the lore about this town, but uh, not tonight." Sam gives me a smile and then watches me yawn. "Okay, go back to research. Yay." I let out sarcastically, rubbing sleepily in my eyes. "Hey, what do I always tell you?" Sam jokes in a strict tone, making a grab for me. "Research is the most important part of the job, making you a massive nerd." I dash out of his reach with a laugh, jokingly repeating his 'wise words' back to him and adding an insult. "Damn right." Dean agrees with me loudly, chuckling when Sam gasps and dramatically grabs at his heart.

I leave them to it, diving into my bed. I sleep a little better this time and when I wake up the next morning, I don't feel as exhausted as yesterday. My brothers are already awake as well and when I get out of the bathroom, dressed and freshly showered, Dean's on the other bed. Absentmindedly doodling something on a little notepad, his face scrunched up a little. He seems to be deep in thought. Sam's buried under books and his laptop at the table, also very focused. "Whatcha drawing there?" I ask Dean, crawling next to him on the bed to look at the notepad. He's drawn the symbol we saw in the house, the one that looks like an upside down question mark. "Hey, I remember seeing that." I tell him with a nod. "Yeah, well it's bugging the hell out of me. I'm so sure I've seen it somewhere." Dean tells me without looking up, sounding frustrated. "Yeah, I have seen it before too." I nod, leaning back against the headboard. "Do you know where?" This time Dean does look up. When I shake my head, he groans. "Damn, this whole job is bugging me." He lets out, glancing over at Sam. "I thought the legend said this Mordechai guy only goes after girls." Sam doesn't look up, but confirms that that's true. "Alright, well I mean that explains that it went after you, but why me?" Dean turns his eyes back to the notepad. "Hilarious." Sam mutters in irritation and I bite back a laugh. "Legend also said he hung himself, but did you see those slit wrists?" With a frown I listen to Dean confirming he saw those. "What's up with that? And the axe too? I mean, ghosts are usually very strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?" Sam voices his thoughts out loud. "But this mook keeps changing." Dean reacts with a nod. "How does that work, then?" I wonder out loud, glancing over at Sam. Sam shakes his head shortly. "No idea, I mean I'm telling ya, the way the story goes…" He abruptly stops his sentence and frowns at his computer. "Wait a minute…" He seems to see something, perking my interest. "What is it?" I ask, sitting up. "Someone added a new post to the hellhound site. Listen to this; 'They say Mordechai Murdoch was really a satanist who chopped up his victims with an axe before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity'." Sam reads the first part of the new post out loud to us and just as he finished, Dean sits up. Suddenly looking very focused. "Where the hell is this going?" Sam wonders, but my attention is on Dean. "I don't know, but I think I might've just figured out where it all started." Dean holds up a hand to Sam, glancing back at the symbol on the notepad. "What, you remember about the symbol?" I ask him curiously and Sam also turns around in his chair expectantly. Dean raises his eyebrows with a grin and stands up from the bed, making a grab for his jacket. "We need to get back to our dear friend, Craig." Is all he says, pulling his jacket on. "What, why?" I am thoroughly confused, but also shrug on my jacket. "Come on." Dean beckons Sam, stalking out of the door. "Damn it, Dean. Why so cryptic?" I huff in irritation, dashing after him.

On our way back to the music store, Dean explains that the symbol isn't really a symbol at all, but a logo. A logo for the Blue Oyster Cult, a rock band Dean occasionally listens to. "Oh, yes of course!" I can also instantly place where I saw the symbol before. It being from a band made it so difficult to place, since we thought it was some kind of Satanic symbol. And the symbol being from a band, puts our Craig right back on the list of people of interest in this case. Since Sam didn't come into the store before, he stays behind now too and Dean confidently walks in, me on his tail. I immediately spot Craig, he's walking onto a little step to a higher area of the store. "Hey, Craig? Remember us?" Dean calls out to him and he turns around slightly, looking a lot less interested in speaking to us then last time. "Hey, look, I'm really not in the mood to answer any more questions, okay?" He says, looking very tired all of a sudden. "Oh, don't worry, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all." Dean tells him and turns around to the stands next to him, filled with LP's. Craig turns back around and with a frown I watch Dean pick out an LP from the Blue Oyster Cult. And there is the logo, I recognize it immediately. "You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was. And then I realized; it doesn't mean anything." Dean starts to speak to me as he initiates a walk towards Craig, his eyes on him. "It's the logo for Blue Oyster Cult." He continues as he walks up the steps and stops right behind Craig, who still has his back to us. He's listening, though. I can see it in his body language. "So, tell me, Craig. You uh, you into B.O.C? Or just scaring the hell out of people?" Dean holds up the LP to him, confronting him directly. Craig grabs the LP and looks at it, the symbol right there in front of his eyes. "So, why don't you tell us about that house? Without lying through your ass, this time." Dean presses on, a knowing look in his eyes. Craig glances at him and then at me, looking busted. He lets out a sigh, throwing his eyes to the ceiling. "Alright, uh, my cousin Dana was on break from TCU…" To my surprise, Craig starts talking. "Ah, I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. So I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted, so we painted symbols on the walls. Some from some albums, some from Dana's theology textbooks. Then, we found out this guy, Murdoch, used to live there, so we made up some story to go along with that." Craig doesn't look very happy with himself as he tells us the truth. "So, they told people who told other people and then these two guys put it on their stupid website and everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I- I thought it was funny at first, but… now that girl is dead!" Craig looks very unhappy and throws me a remorseful look. "It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up. I swear!" He sounds like he's begging us to believe him and I can't believe how confidently he told us about this 'legend' before. People are damn good at lying, which slightly scares me. He does look very upset with the whole thing now, though, and when I give him a small nod of confirmation to tell him I do believe him, Dean lets out a Alright'. He scrapes his throat and then turns around, pulling me with him. I am still very confused. "What the hell happened with that house? I mean, if all Craig just said was true, why is there a pissed off ghost in that house?" I ask Dean as we exit the store and he warily glances at me. "That's an excellent question." He points out.

We get back to the impala and tell Sam what we found out. Sam seems just as confused. "Then what about Mordechai? I mean, we still got attacked by a ghost?" He exclaims as Dean drives us back. There's clearly something else going on here and none of us seem to have a clue what. It's starting to frustrate me. Dean drops me and Sam off at the motel, claiming he has 'something to do'. It's kind of weird, but me and Sam both ignore that. Sam decides to dive into the bathroom to take a shower. I drop on the couch and grab my phone from its charger, curious as to what messages I've missed since last week. I've been chatting frequently with Macy, an old friend from high school and I'm sure she's got some more stories to tell me. Dean comes back when Sam's still in the shower and from the way he walks in, I can see something is up. He's looking highly on alert, motioning for me to stay quiet before walking towards a pile of Sam's clothes lying on the bed. When he stops in front of 'm, I can see he has a red little bag in his hand, his eyes twinkling with mischief. I observe as he smiles to himself and starts opening the bag. "Hey, I'm back." He calls out to Sam in the shower. "Hey, where were you?" Sam calls back and I can hear him shutting off the water. "Oh, I went out." Is Dean's vague reply and I watch on as he shakes the open bag out over Sam's clothes. A black sort of powder falls out and I'm very curious as to what it is. "So, I think I might have a theory about what's going on." Sam calls out and I can hear the shower curtain moving to the side. Dean needs to hurry up with whatever prank he's pulling right now. I wisely stay silent. "Oh yeah?" Dean calls back absentmindedly, shaking more power onto Sam's clothes and ruffling them to hide the evidence. He's very focused. "What if Mordechai is a Tulpa." Sam starts to explain and before Dean can even repeat the word 'Tulpa', the bathroom door opens and Sam steps out in a towel. "Yeah, uh it's a Tibetan thought form." He says. Dean swirls around in surprise and quickly hides the little bag behind his back. "Yeah, I know what a Tulpa is." He casually tries to play it off and I bow my head to hide my snicker. "Hey, why don't you get dressed, I wanna go grab something to eat." Dean stalks past Sam, gives him a grin and then goes right into the bathroom, shutting the door. Sam looks slightly surprised, turning around and glancing at his pile of clothes on the bed. He then looks at me. For a second I think of warning him about the powder in his clothes, but stop myself. I know better than to get involved. Sam takes his clothes and impatiently waits for Dean to get out of the bathroom. He then locks himself back in and I see Dean let out a sigh of relief. "He take the clothes?" He then asks me in a hushed voice. "Yes. What the hell did you put in them?" I hiss back curiously. "Itching powder." Dean states happily, like that's the most genius thing he could think of. "Idiot." I shake my head, sticking out my finger warningly. "If you ever do that to me…" I don't have to finish my threat, cause he throws up both his hands. "I would never." He promises, his eyes twinkling.

When Sam's dressed and has grabbed his bag, we head over to a café to get something to eat and slowly, the powder in Sam's clothes starts to affect him. He lets out a few grunts here and there and I see him absentmindedly scratching himself a few times. Dean doesn't address it yet, but I can see the growing grin on his face. When we enter, ordered our food and coffees and make our way towards a table, Sam stops to scratch again. "Dude, what's your problem?" Dean asks him bluntly. "Nothin, I'm fine." Sam answers, looking slightly distraught. "Yeah?" Dean eyes him with a smile. "Yeah." Sam confirms, glancing at the tables around us. He's becoming uncomfortable and I deliberate again whether I should warm him. "Sit down." Dean tells me, nudging me towards the empty table and I don't miss the warning in his tone. "Alright, so keep going. What about these Tulpa's?" Dean motivates Sam to continue on his theory, sitting down next to me. "Okay, uh… So, there was this incident in Tibet in nineteen fifteen. A group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard, that they brought the thing to life. Outa thin air." Sam explains some more about whatever a Tulpa is and I am amazed by how he knows this. I'm about to ask, but Dean reacts first. "So?" He shrugs, looking for more to the story. Sam lets out a huff. "That was twenty monks. Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do." He says and I'm finally starting to follow. "Oh, so you mean when enough people visualize something, it can come to life?" I question out loud, it still sounds a little crazy that that could actually happen. "Well, I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads." Sam nods at me, reaching for his laptop and putting it in front of him on the table. "It goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard." He continues, starting to type. Dean isn't convinced yet. "Now wait a second, are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?" He asks, looking a little skeptic. "That's literally what I just said." I point out to him sarcastically. Sam grunts and shifts in his seat awkwardly. "I don't know, maybe?" He doesn't seem very sure of his own theory. Dean shortly shakes his head. "People believe in Santa Claus, how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas." He states and I have to be honest, he has a point. "Cause you're a bad person." Sam bluntly states and I chuckle. "He has to be right, Dean. I mean, I'm getting hooked up every Christmas." I tease, wiggling my eyebrows at him. "That's cause I'm wrapping you presents I bought you myself." He drily points out to me and I pout at him. "Well, also, cause of this." Sam turns his laptop to us and Dean and I focus our eyes on the screen. It's a photo of another weird lookin symbol, this one looking like a fancy F. "That's a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house." Sam starts to explain. "Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this, not even knowing what it was. Now that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So, people are on the hellhound website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai… I mean, I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life." Sam finishes his long ass explanation and I stare at him in awe. "How the hell do you know all this?" I blurt out. "I read." Is Sam's short answer. His face contorts and I can see him shift in his seat again. "That would explain why he keeps changing." Dean says drily, glancing at the symbol and sipping his coffee. "So, if I would see a post on that website saying the dude wears a fedora hat and kills people with a chainsaw and keep believing that with all the other viewers of the blog, Mordechai will become like that?" I glance at Sam, who shortly nods at me. "Heh, a fedora hat." Dean chuckles. "That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work." Sam ignores my bad example and looks at Dean. "Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit perse." Dean nods in understanding. "Wait, but then there's no reason for me to stay home anymore, if Mordechai doesn't just string up girls my age. He does whatever everyone think he does." I state, happily leaning back in my chair and sipping my coffee. Dean rolls his eyes at me. "Okay, so why don't we just, uh, get this spirit sigil thingie off the wall and off the website?" He suggests. "Well, it's not that simple." Sam starts, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. "You see, once Tulpa's are created, they take on a life of their own." He adds, grimacing. "Ah, that's great." I let out a sigh. It's never just easy, or simple, when it comes to the supernatural. "Great, alright, so if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an 'idea'?" Dean seems at a loss of what to do, glancing back at Sam. "Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage." Sam clicks on his laptop a few times and then turns it back to us. There's a video playing without the sound and I can see they named it 'an exclusive video of Mordechai Murdoch', meaning the idiots that my brothers met twice now, actually caught the Tulpa on tape. "Since they posted the video, the number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone." Sam looks at Dean knowingly. "Huh." Dean mutters, staring at the screen. "Long live the internet." I comment sarcastically, ignoring Sam's sudden hiss of discomfort and the scratching noises that come with it. "Hmpf, I got an idea. Come on, both of you." Dean grabs his coffee and initiates for us to follow. Sam quickly slaps his laptop shut. "Where we going?" He asks, standing up to quickly gather his stuff. "We're gonna find a copy store." Dean explains, getting up from his seat and handing me my coffee cup. "What are we gonna do there?" I ask him curiously, but get interrupted by a grunt from Sam, who's moving hastily. "Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something…" He completely talks over me, face scrunched up and eyes wide. Dean finally takes his moment to announce that it's his doing and lets out a few loud and obvious laughs. Sam instantly catches on. "You did this?" He growls in disbelief, looking after Dean who turned around and is walking away. Dean turns back again, laughing even harder, eyes twinkling with amusement. I cannot hide my grin any longer either and quickly hurry after him. "You're a friggin jerk!" Sam's angry voice calls after us and Dean sticks both hands in the air. "Oh yeah." He agrees wholeheartedly, clapping me on my back happily. I shake my head at their stupid shenanigans, knowing this is going to escalate soon. Sam won't let this go, no chance in hell.

As soon as we're out, Sam's closing in and he grabs my jacket. "Did you know about this?" He asks me, voice a little raised. I instantly raise my arms defensively. "How many goddamn times do I have to tell you two that I'm staying out." I grunt at him, not sure if I can make myself any clearer. "You knew though, didn't you." Sam doesn't seem satisfied. "Listen, you two started this up and for the last time, I want nothing to do with it. I always end up getting the blame and it's already happening right now." I point out to him, raising my own voice a little. "Come on, bitch. One shower and its gone." Dean interrupts us from inside the car, impatiently motioning for us to get in. He's still laughing. Sam growls, but dives into the passenger seat. He makes Dean drive us back to the motel for said shower first and Dean then explains to us what he wants to do about the website and attempting to take it down. His idea is actually brilliant.

While Sam dives into the shower to take care of his itching problem and frustration at once, Dean crawls behind Sam's laptop. He starts attempting to make a fake death certificate, but can't quite figure out how to make it look good and I end up being needed once again. I can't hide my huge smile as I push him away from the laptop to take over, ignoring him voicing his discomfort of technology. Sam comes back out of the bathroom when I'm almost done, having put down his resentment towards Dean. He already has a plan to retaliate, I can see it in his eyes.

Sam compliments me on how the fake death certificate of Mordechai looks, making me even happier and we make our way to a copy shop to print it out. It's going to be our bait for the two ghostbuster dudes and their stupid website. And it looks even better once we printed it out.

"Alright, let's go get these suckers." Dean chuckles, putting the printed death certificate in his back pocket. Sam takes a few minutes on his laptop before finding the location of those two dudes and I'm actually very curious to finally meet them.

We end up driving to a trailer park not far from town and it actually feels quite logical that these dudes are in a trailer. We figure out which one it is and Dean bonks on the door way harder then was necessary. When it stays silent for a few seconds, Dean grimaces. "Come on out here, guys. We can hear you in there." He calls out, once again pounding on the door. I can hear shuffling inside and then the door of the trailer opens. Two heads stick out of the door, both with irritated expressions. The guy on the right has a little longer, curly hairdo and is wearing blue glasses. The other one has black short hair, sticking up. Both of them look quite young and a little silly. So does their trailer. Everywhere, they plastered stickers with stupid quotes and bright colors and there is a literal large flamingo to my left. "Ah, would you look at that. Action figures in their original packaging- what a shock!" Dean smiles brightly when he sees the two guys, softly shaking his head. "Guys, we need to talk." Sam follows up with that. "Yeah, um, sorry guys. We're uh…" As the guy on the right steps out, his glance falls on me and I can see he's stumped. "Wait a second, who the hell are you?" He turns his head to Dean, confusion all over his face. "We didn't see her before." He state after that. "No we didn't… well, hello there…" The dude with the black hair flashes me the cringiest smile and if I'm not mistaken, he's trying his best to flirt with me. "That is my little sister, you dick. Hey, eyes on me. Eyes on me!" Dean's instantly angry as he shouts at the guy with the black hair, who jolts in surprise and quickly focusses his eyes back on Dean. The guy with the glasses rolls his eyes and continues the sentence he was trying to say before. "As I was saying… we're uh, we're a little busy right now." He looks at Dean knowingly and his expression is very serious. Dean continues in full sarcasm. "Okay, well we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website." He flashes the dude a bright smile. The dude with glasses starts laughing and turns to his friend, who's still trying very hard not to look at me. "Man, you know, these guys got us busted last night, spent the night in a holding cell…" The guy with black hair looks intently at Dean. "I had to pee in that cell urinal, in front of people. And I get stage fright." He points an angry finger right at Dean and then Sam. "Why should we trust you guys?" The curly haired guy looks right back at Dean and I slowly lean back a little, trying to compose myself. This is the funniest interaction I have ever witnessed. Sam takes over the conversation. "Look, guys, we all know what we saw last night. What's in the house? But now, thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai." He explains. "That's right, which means people are gonna keep showing up at the hell house, running into him in person. Somebody could get hurt." Dean finishes the lecture and something interesting is happening in front of me. The guy with the black hair is clearly filled with doubt, but doesn't seem to be the leader out of the two of 'm. "Yeah…" The curly haired guy seems skeptical. "Ed, maybe he's got a point…" The other one starts, but Ed shoots him down. "Yeah, no." He states. "Nope." The other confirms and with renewed confidence he looks right back at us. Dean leans his head to the side in annoyance. "We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth." Ed states and glances at me. "An obligation? Why, though? Who says you have that obligation?" I question him, intending on confusing him. It works, he frowns as he looks for an answer. "Well, uh, we obviously uh…" He doesn't get very far and Dean lets out a sarcastic chuckle. "Well, I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now…" He starts to threaten, but Sam hastily interrupts him. "Dean, Dean. Hey…" He places a hand on Dean's chest. "Just uh, forget it." He continues when Dean throws him a challenging, disapproving look. "These guys…" He sighs. "These guys, probably bitch slap them both. I could probably even tell them that thing about Mordechai, but they're still not gonna help us." That last part he acts out with another sigh and I instantly catch up to him. "Yeah, you're right. Talking about an obligation to the real truth, huh…" I add just as dramatically, keeping my face serious when Dean bumps me with an agreeing nod. "Well, what?" Ed is instantly interested. "Yeah, what?" The other one is also falling for our trap. "Let's just go." Sam mutters, his voice all disappointed and he turns around. "Yeah, you're right." Dean instantly agrees and with an arm on my back he guides us both after Sam. "Wow, wow, wow… No, no, wait!" I hear behind me. "Yeah, wait. Hold on, now!" Two sets of footsteps follow us, we've intrigued them enough. When I glance to Sam, he's wearing a knowing smile. We keep walking, letting the guys follow us. "Wait, hello wait! Hang on, what thing about Mordechai, you guys?" The one with the black hair is closing in on us. "Don't tell 'm, Sam." Dean instigates a further act and Sam instantly follows. "But if they agree to shut the website down, Dean…" He argues. "They won't do it, they said so themselves." I grab Sam's arm to emphasize my words. "No, wait, wait. Don't listen to him, okay? We'll do it…" The one with the black hair tries to reach for my arm, but Dean pulls me out of his reach instantly. He throws me a cheeky wink, before his face contorts in seriousness and he turns around. He glances at Sam, who's also trying to control his expression. "We'll do it, okay? We'll do it!" Ed repeats, them having also come to a halt and looking at us expectantly. "It's a secret, Sam." Dean says, shaking his head. Sam lets out a sigh, before turning back. "Look, it is a really big deal, alright?" He says to the guys, his hands in the air. "It wasn't easy to get this information, either." I add, looking at the two dudes skeptically. They're both wearing eager expressions, almost dying to know whatever we're about to tell them. "Yeah, so only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down…" Sam points right at Ed. "Totally." Ed confirms and its instantly clear he's lying. I give Sam a slow nod and once Dean has done the same, Sam looks down. "Okay." I watch Dean dig into his back pocket to pull out the fake death certificate and he folds it open. "It's a death certificate, from the thirties." Sam starts and Dean hands them the paper. "We got it at the library. Now, according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound." Sam explains. "Yeah, he didn't hang or cut himself." I add to make sure they got that. "He shot himself?" The black haired guy looks at me with wide eyes and I give him a nod. "Yup, with a forty five pistol. To this day, they say he's terrified of 'm." Sam throws in some more fake information. "Matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a forty five, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, it'll kill the son of a bitch." Dean finishes the story and by the reaction of the guys, I can see they totally bought it. They both start to gasp in surprise and Ed looks like he just found a gold mine. They glance at each other and then Ed turns around to walk away, the other one sprinting back to the trailer before any of us can say anything. "Harry, slow your roll, buddy…" Ed mutters after him, turning his walk into a slight jog. I turn around to Sam and can finally let out the laugh I was holding in since I saw these two idiots. "Classic, right?" He grins back at me.

We end up at some kind of road house, looking more Texan than anything I've seen. From the beef and burgers on the menu to the people in there with their southern accents and the 'road kill' on the walls. We end up sitting under a weird looking wall piece of a dude with a fish in his hand and a string attached to the bottom of it. Dean quickly finds out what the string does and looks delighted when it makes the dude's mouth open and a strange laugh come out. It sounds ridiculous and soon becomes very annoying, obviously to Dean's pleasure. And as Sam's busy on his laptop and I'm impatiently waiting for my burger while on my phone, Dean continues to pull the string. The sound is starting to hurt my brain and I'm not the only one getting really annoyed, Sam's almost seething and both of us sigh in relief when Dean gets up to go to the bathroom a few moments later. It surprises me when Sam instantly dives into his bag the moment Dean's gone, but I understand why when he pulls out a small tube of super glue. His eyes are twinkling as he reaches for Dean's beer bottle and starts to put glue all over it. "What is this prank, even?" I ask curiously. "Oh, just a classic." Is his short reply and he chuckles to himself. He places the beer bottle back next to Dean's plate. "Be grateful I'm not gluing you to your seat." Sam gives me a playful wink as I raise my eyebrows at him. "You wouldn't dare, Sam Winchester." I playfully hiss back, pointing my finger at him. "Well, would've served you right for not warning me about the itching powder." Sam eyes me knowingly. "But that would've meant I now had to warn Dean about his beer bottle… now I can just let that happen too." I tell him, laughing at his shocked expression. "No, you were supposed to warn me about the powder and let this happen anyways, Skye. My side, be on my side!" He tells me in playful frustration, throwing his arms in the air to emphasize his words. I roll my eyes, but then see Dean return out of the corner of my eyes and quickly pull my face back in control. The first thing Dean does when he's sat down, is pull that damn string again, laughing at Sam's furious expression. "Dude!" Sam exclaims, slapping his hand away from the string to stop the sound. "If you pull that string one more time, I'm going to kill you." He threatens. Dean looks him dead in the eyes and pulls the string again. Sam is quick to retaliate and his fury makes Dean chuckles. "Come on, man. You need more laughter in your life, you know. It makes you tense. Tell him, Skye." He grins at me and I raise my eyebrows at him. Dean shakes his head with a sigh. "They post it yet?" He then asks, grabbing his fork and knife to continue eating his dinner. Sam, who was back on his laptop, turns it his way and the hellhound website is on display. Dean and I both lean forward to read a new article that was posted not that long ago. Dean reads the conclusion out loud, stating that Murdoch has a fatal fear of firearms. "I still can't believe that worked." I huff, impressed by our little trick. "Great. How long do we wait?" Dean asks Sam expectantly. Sam sighs and closes his laptop, pulling it back to himself. "Enough for this new story to spread and the legend changes. I figure by nightfall iron rounds will work on the sucker." He states and then grabs his beer bottle, holding it out to Dean invitingly. A small grin already playing at the corners of his mouth. I hold my breath as I watch Dean grab his own beer bottle without a second thought. "Sweet." He agrees and clinks his bottle against Sam's, before taking a sip. Sam already starts chuckling and both of us watch Dean try to put the bottle down, but being unable to. In confusion he stares at his hand, now glued to the bottle, and tries again to shake it loose. His expression makes Sam burst out into laughter and Dean's eyes darken. "You didn't." He states drily, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, I did." Sam happily confirms and holds up the glue to prove it. Deans mouth falls slightly open and he glances back at his hand, turning it and shaking it. The beer bottle is properly stuck and the sight of it has me in stitches. "You couldn't have warned me?" Dean throws me an angry look and I gasp. "Really? You want me to get involved?" I challenge him. "You know this is gonna be a bitch to remove." He retaliates in irritation, angry eyes back on Sam now. Sam just laughs and pulls the string, that damn laughing sound once again ringing in our ears.

It's that board that eventually becomes the plan to distract the police officers at nightfall, so we can get into the hell house. There's no more protest from Dean to let me come this time. He's too wrapped up in ripping off the beer bottle from his hand anyways, and groans in pain when he's finally able to. Sam's still chuckling over his prank and I'm seriously starting to wonder how long this will continue. I know I shouldn't join in, but my mind has been wrapped around such a good idea for a prank, and they'd deserve it for continuously blaming me and trying to drag me in. It will also be fairly easy to execute and, if you ask me, freaking hilarious.

That night, all three of us drive towards hell house. Guns all loaded, flashlights at the ready. According to Dean, this'll be a fairly easy job, now that the new story has been settling into everyone's minds. Which is the only reason why he's letting me come, I'm very aware of that. Once we arrive, Sam's able to hide the stupid, laughing, fisherman board somewhere in the trees and breaks the string, so the weird laughing plays continuously and, indeed, distracts the cops so we can move into the house. "Stay behind me." Is Dean's clear order, before he and Sam take the lead and move into the house. Guns ready, flashlights enabling us to see. The house looks way scarier during the night and it keeps me on edge as I follow my brothers inside. Dean gave me a shotgun this time, loaded with rock salt, since he's been teaching me how to properly use one. It feels good to have a gun at the ready, even though its loaded with rock salt bullets. My brothers move like a well-oiled team, it becomes very visible as soon as we enter the dark house. Dean in the front, on guard, focused and Sam behind him. When Dean looks left, Sam has his right covered and vice versa. When Dean takes steps, Sam follows, almost identically. It's pretty impressive. The first room of the dark house is empty and we quickly move forward. "I barely have any skin left on my palm." Dean hisses to Sam as he fumbles with his gun, his eyes locked on the door of the next room. "I ain't touching that line with a ten foot pole." Sam mumbles back and Dean points his flashlight right into Sam's face. Sam winces and Dean moves on, beckoning me to stay behind him. I've been nervously pointing my shotgun everywhere and I have to admit, the dark ambiance of the creepy house makes everything look like a threat. The next room is also empty and Dean moves into the hallway, gun pointed straight forward. He and Sam are moving quite quickly and I hurry to catch up, not particularly wanting to fall behind. They both stop when they spot a brown door in the back and Dean tenses up. "So, you think old Mordechai's home?" He asks Sam, who's also focused on the door with his '45. "I don't know." He answers and I'm about to say something about hoping he isn't, when a voice saying "me neither" behind us catches us all of guard. It scares me so bad that when I fling myself around with my shotgun, I pull the trigger. "SKYE!" Dean roars as soon as everyone's calmed down from the loud bang and angrily rips the shotgun out of my hand. "What, it's not my fault that they're sneaking up on people!" I protest loudly, pointing my finger at the two guys of the hellhound website that were clearly also here to investigate and were the culprits behind the scare. "S-She shot at us…" The guy with the curls, Ed, is trembling as he points his hand at me accusingly. "Well, be glad she can't aim that well yet." Is all Dean says to that, before handing me back the shotgun. "You don't shoot, until you know it's the enemy you're shooting at." He scolds. "Yeah, yeah." I wave him away in frustration. "So, what are you guys trying to do? Get yourself killed?" Sam snarls at the guys, still breathing heavily and looking angry. "We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?" Ed pants and only now I see he's holding a camera.

The sounds of knives being sharpened and more creepy stuff interrupts our moment and we all turn around, glancing at the closed, brown door. Dean reaches for my arm and pulls me behind him, before pointing his gun right at the door. "Oh crap…" The other one, Harry, mutters and I can feel them huddling closer to us, also shielding themselves behind my brothers. Everyone is tense again and I have to say, the sounds of knives being sharpened still coming from the closed door, make me feel like I'm in a proper horror movie. The fright is in my throat. "Huh… uh, guys, you wanna uh… you wanna open that door for us?" Ed breaks the silence in a nervous tone, still trying to get his movie deal, his camera up and ready. "Why don't you." Dean retorts in irritation, his focus never faltering. The silence return, but not for long. The scary noises become louder and then a loud clang announces the arrival of this Mordechai ghost. The door bursts open and a ghost, coming straight out of a horror movie, comes barging in. He's wearing a cowboy hat and overalls, has grayish skin and a thin, boney face. And eyes that are straight from hell. I can't help but scream when he charges at us and Sam and Dean start emptying their guns into him, giving him every bullet they've got. I quickly join them, jumping out from behind Dean to shoot my rock salt bullets at him. The sounds are overwhelmingly loud, from the guns but also from the ghost, and my ears are ringing. Every bullet that hits the ghost seems to at least hurt him. He's flickering and fading and then, with a last roar, disappears completely. "O, my god…" I double over, lowering my shotgun, completely out of breath. Dean and Sam shoot back into hunting mode and quickly start glancing around, faces focused and their reactions tell me this is not over. "Oh, oh god. He's gone. Yeah, he's gone." A breathless Ed whimpers behind me and when I turn around, both their faces have gone completely pale. "Did you get him?" Harry asks, being the first to get his composure back. "Yeah, they got him." Harry pants. "No, on camera. Did you get him on camera." Harry snaps and I leave them to it, hastily hurrying after Dean. I've only taken a few steps away from them, when I hear a loud roar and then a lot of commotion. When I turn back around, struck by fear, Mordechai has reappeared and Harry is on the floor. Both of them are gasping in fear. I instantly pull my shotgun up, but Mordechai fades away before I can shoot him. "Hey!" Dean is back and watches Harry haul Ed off the floor breathlessly. "Didn't you guys post that BS story we gave you?" He hisses at them angrily, grabbing my arm. "Of course we did…" Ed mumbles. "Yeah, but then our server crashed…" Ed adds and both Sam and Dean let out a groan. "So, it didn't take?" Dean asks, just to be sure. "Uh…" Neither of the guys know what to say. "So, so these guns don't work?" Dean holds his own gun up in irritation. "Uh, yeah." Harry confirms, like he knows what Dean is talking about. "Great." Dean concludes with a sarcastic smile, pulling me even closer to him. His eyes focus on Sam, who's on the other side of the room. "Sam, any ideas?" He calls over. "We're getting out of here." Harry grabs Ed's coat and literally starts dragging him towards the door. "Yeah, not a bad idea." I nod after them, shaking my head. They shouldn't have come here anyways. They don't get very far, before Mordechai appears in front of them out of thin air again, looking terrifying, and they instantly turn around, coming back while screaming in terror. They race past us to search for another door and before I can shoot at Mordechai, he's disappeared to go after them. "Dean, what do we do?" I hiss to Dean. Our bullets won't work, he knows that. We can hear the two men screaming in the back and Sam sprints after them to assist. "Burn the place down. We gotta burn the place down." Dean looks at me deliberately and I instantly know what he means. The gasoline is in the truck and since Mordechai should be busy right now, I can go and get it. I drop the shotgun in Dean's hands and instantly race out the front door, which is unoccupied now. I skid to a halt, outside, and unlock the trunk. With trembling hands I grapple for the gasoline and then sprint back towards the house, jumping through the front door. "Here!" I throw the gasoline to Dean, who catches it and pulls off the cap. From the back of the house we hear a lot of violent noises coming, wood breaking and terrified yells. Shit's going down. "Don't." Dean snaps at me when I'm about to move. "They could need help!" I throw back at him. Sam's also back there and it's not a given that he's winning the fight with this evil, powerful ghost thing. "And what are you gonna do? Shoot him and make him angrier?" Dean snaps back with irritation. He's started to squirt the gasoline on the wooden floor, some of the walls too. "I can help Sam fight…" I protest, but get interrupted by the two guys from the website sprinting into the room, complete panic in their eyes. They don't even look at us, they're just scrambling to get out. Which means that Sam is now alone in the back room, with Mordechai. "SKYE!" Dean's roar doesn't stop me and I sprint towards the fighting noises. If Sam needs help, I need to help him. Sam does need help. When I stagger to a halt after coming around the corner, Mordechai has him up against the wall. His feet are literally not touching the ground and if I see it right, he's being choked by Mordechai's axe. It does not look pleasant. "HEY!" I scream at the ghost, lifting up my shotgun. And I shoot, this time hitting the bastard right in his back. With a loud, almost demonic roar, Mordechai turns around and focusses his attention on me. Letting go of Sam, who crashes to the floor and is finally able to breathe again. The ghost doesn't seem phased by my shooting and also doesn't disappear this time. His yellow, glowing eyes bore into mine and I suddenly get the feeling this might have been a stupid idea. "DEAN!" Sam, having gulped in enough air to shout, calls out for Dean in panic and I shoot Mordechai again, right in his chest this time. Another roar and with sudden force, he charges at me with his axe. It almost hits me, I can duck just in time. But it does scare me enough that I let out an involuntary scream. Mordechai doesn't get another chance to charge at me. Dean comes sprinting around the corner and holds up something, before spraying and at the same time lighting it. Creating some sort of flamethrower, with a hot beam directed right at Mordechai. "GO! Go, go, GO!" Dean screams at Sam as he continuous to attack the ghost with the flames, flames that do seem to immobilize him. Sam's recovered enough to jump off the floor and charge at me. I feel his hand lock around my arm, before he violently drags me with him to safety. Dean's right behind us. "Come on! Look, Mordechai can't leave the house and we can't kill him, so we improvise." Dean shows Sam his lighter, turns around to the room behind us that he just soaked with the gasoline, lights his lighter and throws it down. The room instantly lights up in flames and we all stare at it breathlessly. I make a mental note to remember that; improvising means fire. Fire is always good. "Go!" Dean pushes me forward, towards the front door and we all break out into a sprint again, almost throwing ourselves outside, into the cool, night air. From the noises and roars behind me, I can hear Mordechai is right behind us.

"This is your solution?" Sam yells, when we're a safe distance away. "Just burn the whole damn place to the ground?" Sam stops running and stares at hell house, now engulfed in flames. I can see Mordechai standing in the doorway, before he disappears. My heart is in my throat and I double over to gasp for breath. "Well, no one will go in anymore." Dean protests, throwing his hands up. "I mean, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. Its fast and dirty, but it works." He continuous and I have to give it to him. The house doesn't look like it'll survive this one. "Well, what if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?" Sam's still not convinced this was the best plan and makes sure Dean knows it. "W-Well…" Dean huffs and its clear he hadn't thought about that. "I mean, if that even happens… We can just come back, then, right?" I decide to stick up for my brother, standing back up and wiping the sweat off my forehead. Sam turns around to me with wide eyes and looks flabbergasted. He doesn't know what to say, though, and turns back towards the burning house. "Kind of makes you wonder, of all the things we hunted… how many existed just cause people believed in 'm…" He then says and gives Dean a confused look. I lean back a little and let out a slow breath, my body finally starting to catch up to the fact that we're no longer in danger. "Huh…" I then huff, while behind me we can hear glass breaking and exploding, caused by the fire. "Okay, it's too late for this bull." Dean shakes his head and turns, marching back towards the car. Sam and I follow him instantly. When we're all inside, safe and well, Sam points out there's one more thing we need to do. Catch up with the stupid dudes from that damn website, to make sure they actually do shut the thing down. "Yeah, I know. But first…" Dean, who has started the car, turns around in his seat and points an angry finger at me. "We clearly need to go over a few things you haven't put into that dumb brain of yours." He looks on edge as he says that and I raise my eyebrows, slightly offended. "Dumb?" I retort. "Yes, dumb, Skye. Cause one, shooting at something without knowing what it is and without aiming, is dumb. Second, running right into danger without having any skill in combat yet, is dumb…" Dean starts his lecture and I cross my arms as I listen. "I do not regret going in to help Sam." I spit at him when he needs to breathe and stops scolding me for a second. "It is not helping, if you're just putting yourself in danger as well!" Dean protests with a shake of his head. "Uh, she did help, though." Sam joins the conversation in a small voice and instantly holds his hands up defensively, when he receives a death glare. "She did! I mean, he turned his attention away from me and then you came to seal the deal." He mutters, eyes diverted. "Skye, I told you to stay with me. I was well aware Sam needed help and it was NOT from a shotgun." Dean's angry eyes are on me again. "Ugh, he didn't even harm me." I cry out in frustration and Dean grits his teeth. "Alright, if you're not gonna listen, you're not coming next time." He's already turning back around, but I quickly grab his arm. "No, no, alright. I get it." Even though I'm lying, I have to make sure he won't leave me behind. "You don't." Dean starts driving, clearly still angry. "No, I do, okay? I know it was stupid, I will listen next time." I repeat, tone apologetic. I try to ignore my scared, beating heart. "Mmm." Is all Dean says to that and starts driving towards the trailer park. He doesn't get very far, before Sam asks what the plan is to convince these guys to leave this story alone and it turns out that we don't have a plan. Dean grumbles angrily, before making a U-turn and driving us back to the motel instead. When I've taken a shower and have cuddled up on the sofa, with Dean next to me, sipping his beer, I get him to agree to take me out shooting tomorrow again. He also demands that I get behind the wheel again to practice some more driving, which I protest to. I haven't really enjoyed learning how to drive this far, there are just so many idiots on the road and being driven around while able to lounge in the backseat is actually quite pleasant. Sam joins our conversation as he gets out of the bathroom and points out that he saw a gym in town, claiming that if we sign up with a fake account to a few free trial days, he can guide me through a real sparring session. He knows I made an attempt to save his life tonight, but he also knows I wouldn't have come very far had Dean not shown up. I gratefully accept and when it's time to go to bed, I actually don't feel as tense as I normally would after having fought with a horrifying ghost.

The next day, both my brothers keep their promises and even give me time to execute my own perfect prank, as they both quickly leave to gas up baby and go get something to eat in the morning. When they get back and we've had some food, Sam and I go to the gym while Dean promises to come up with a plan to stop the hellhound website. He's also going to check on the burnt down house, just to be sure.

Sam and I stay at the gym for about two hours and I'm sure he's one of the best teachers to have. He's nothing like dad, barking orders and roughening me up unnecessarily. He's gentle, persistent and instead of pointing out everything I'm doing wrong, he guides me through how to do it better. In blocking attacks and swings, in learning to do some handy, effective kicks and punches and most off all, how I can use my smaller height as an advantage. It makes me feel quite powerful, to know that even though I'm small and tiny, I can still do some effective damage. We're thoroughly drenched in sweat when we get back and I gratefully take a well-deserved shower. When I get out, Dean has returned and is just telling Sam that hell house is thoroughly burned down and he didn't see any signs of Mordechai when he was there. He's also thought about the website and how to shut it down, but every idea he throws on the table, gets shut down by Sam, who knows way more about the sort of stuff. "Well, then you think of something, boy genius." Dean huffs in irritation and stands up from the table. Sam chuckles, but nods and reaches for his laptop. "You, let's move." Dean points a finger at me directly and reaches for his jacket. "Where are we going?" I ask curiously, dashing towards my shoes. "You're driving us to the woods, your shotgun aim still needs a lot of improvement." He explains and I groan. "Can't you just drive?" I complain loudly, making him laugh. "No, you're gonna get your driver's license as soon as you're seventeen, and the better you're already at it, the quicker you'll have it." He tells me strictly. "How many lessons did you take, wasn't it only one?" Sam questions from behind his laptop. "Yeah, one. And then my exam the next day. Aced that too." Dean nods, a smile on his face as he recalls those memories. I chuckle, dad basically started teaching him how to drive when he was thirteen. When he finally had to do his exam, he'd been driving illegally for about four years.

Dean keeps his promise and forces me behind the wheel, making me drive us to the woods. I already have the basics mostly under control, so it's not that hard to do anymore. He's been making me drive more often, lately, now that I don't need to study.

It's when we've reached a good spot and I parked the car, that excitement fills my stomach. Soon, Dean'll see what I did with my prank and hopefully, if I play it right, he'll think Sam did it. "Alrighty, let's go get you your shotgun." Dean exits the car and marches to the trunk. I quickly jump out of the driver's seat and dash after him, already giggling. I watch as Dean opens up the trunk and reaches in the duffle bag to pull out the shotgun. "What the…" The second he does, his eyes grow wide in shock. He pulls it further towards him and it emerges, all pink and glittery. Stickers of unicorns, glittery flowers and princesses are covering it, head to toe. Dean's too stunned to speak and just stares at it in utter disgust. I cannot hold my laughter in any longer and it bursts out of me. "Wha… how did… I…" Dean splutters something, turning the shotgun around and blinking at it furiously. His reaction is priceless and its only making my laughter grow. I double over, gasping for breath. "You…" Dean turns to me, still holding the shotgun with disgust. "Whew, Saham really outdid h-himself this time…" I stammer through my giggles and Dean's eyes darken. "I'm gonna kill him. I am going to murder him." He states drily, tossing the shotgun back in the trunk, eyes twinkling with amusement. "It wasn't even his turn again, how dare he…" Dean rages on, reaching into the duffle bag and pulling out a pistol. He's even more stunned when that pistol is also pink and glittery. "Oh mahan…" I wheeze, Dean's reactions just being the funniest thing. Dean pulls about five more guns out of the trunk that are bedazzled with pink stickers and gets more disgusted each time. All the while, I am dying with laughter. Dean refuses to shoot with me until we've at least cleaned up the shotgun, so I help him pull all the stickers off of that one while he shouts at me to stop laughing and that he's gonna kill Sam.

He then takes his time to practice with me and we only return when it's already starting to get dark outside. Dean drives us past hell house one last time, just to check, but it's just a ruin now. And there's no Mordechai, as far as we can tell.

When we get back, Dean storms through the door and points an accusing finger at Sam. "You think your funny, huh?" He snaps, amusement in his tone. "What?" Sam's completely clueless as he looks at Dean. "You think you're a genius, the only one that is allowed to come up with good pranks?" Dean continues, shrugging off his jacket and throwing the pizza's we got on the table. "Dean, what are you talking about?" Sam repeats in confusion, closing his laptop. I have to press my hand over my mouth to stop my giggles from bursting out. It seems that I have successfully convinced Dean that Sam was behind the gun prank. "Oh, yeah, sure. Act all innocent, you little gremlin. I'll get you back, I will." Dean threatens, before stalking towards the bathroom and disappearing in there, grumbling and all. "What the hell was he talking about?" Sam turns his wide eyes to me and I quickly compose myself, shrugging. "Don't know. Might still be upset about your beer thing." I mumble. Sam chuckles. "Heh, yeah, that was funny." He concludes and then, thankfully, drops it.

We eat our pizza, chatting about the stupid guys from the hellhound website and then Dean makes Sam and I pack all our things, while he goes to check us out. It's time to move, we're almost done in this little town. I almost feel a little sad that we're leaving. I liked this town.

Once we're in the car, Dean drives us towards the trailer park. The plan is to just tell them of the supernatural world and the thing they conjured up cause of their website and then make them take it down. A surprise is waiting for us, when we get there. Ed and Harry are walking towards their car, which they've stuffed full of seemingly everything they own, and the trailer they were residing in is behind them, empty. "Are they leaving..?" I question, completely thrown off guard. They didn't look like the type of guys who would just give up. I don't get a reply, cause the guys have spotted us standing next to their car. "Well, hello there!" Ed greets us with a grin. "Hey, guys." Sam greets back and I stick up a hand to them to give them a small wave. We watch as they walk past us with some paper bags in their hands, going straight for their car. "Should we tell 'm?" Ed glances sideways at Ed. "Eh, might as well, you know. Otherwise they're just gonna read about it in the trades." Harry reacts and Ed goes off about how they got a call around noon from a very important Hollywood producer, who seemingly read about the hellhound website and wanted to option the motion picture rights. "And maybe have us write it." He finishes, putting his paper bag in the front seat of the car, which looks like its gonna collapse any second now. "Like the RPG." Ed adds, leaning on the car door, looking very impressed with himself. "The what?" Dean frowns at him. "Role playing game." Ed explains, scraping his throat. "Right…" Dean doesn't understand, but acts like he does. "A little lingo for you. Anyhoo, uh, excuse us, we're off to la-la land." Harry grins. "Well, congratulations, guys. That sounds really great." Sam tells them with an amused grin and me and Dean immediately agree with him and mutter out some positive cheers. The problem seems to be solving itself right in front of our eyes and that never happens. "Oh, yeah well luck has got nothin to do with this. It's about talent, you know… Sheer, unabashed talent." Ed is not afraid to boast about this so called chance and I let out a giggle at their faces. When we all stay quiet after that, Harry throws us a 'later' and we watch them climb into their car, slamming the doors shut. The rumbling engine stutters, before coming to life and through open windows, they wave as they drive past us. "Bye!" I call after them, waving and grinning. Sam and Dean exchange an amused look and both chuckle. "Wow." Dean mutters, initiating our walk back to our car. Sam scrapes his throat, before bumping Dean's shoulder. "I have a confession to make." He starts as he wraps an arm around me. "What's that?" Dean asks and I also look up at him curiously. "I was the one who called them and told them I was a producer…" Sam then says, mouth already split open in a wide smile. Dean and I both burst out in laughter and I shake my head. That's brilliant. "Well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in their backseat." Dean then also confesses and Sam's laughter grows when he hears that. "Ew." I shudder at just the thought of how bad that must smell. Which is hilarious. When a comfortable silence returns, Sam looks up at Dean. "Truce?" He suggests. "Truce? Not after what you pulled yesterday! There will be no truce until you've cleaned up every single, stupid gun." Dean goes off on him, pointing at the trunk. "What?" Sam's once again at a loss for what he's talking about. "Oh, what do you mean, what?" Dean stalks to the trunk with a laugh and opens it, reaching for the duffle bag. "This, ya bastard!" He pulls out a '45 that's still covered in pink, glittery stickers and holds it up to Sam. Sam's eyes grow wide when he sees it and he doubles over, bursting out in laughter once again. "Yeah, see, now you suddenly know!" Dean roars at him, playfulness in his tone as he waves the pink gun around. I watch it all unfold in front of my eyes, feeling sheer joy as Dean accuses Sam of something that I did. "I mean, it's genius, I have to admit. But, really?" Dean throws the gun back in the duffle bag, grumbling at Sam's ongoing laughter. Sam, a little breathless, turns to me. "You're a friggin mehenace…" He then says and points a finger at me. I give him my brightest smile and then take a sarcastic bow. "Wha..?" Dean, who saw that happen, glances at me and I can see that the truth is dawning on him. "No…" He then whispers in pure betrayal. "Oh, yes…" I confirm, already in stitches at the shocked look on his face. "You didn't do this?" Dean snaps at Sam, who shakes his head. "No, although I wish I did. It's better than any of the pranks I thought of." He laughs. "You little…" Dean narrows his eyes and slowly turns to me, an evil grin appearing on his face. "Dean… wait, hold on… it's funny, right?" I instantly shoot my hands up, ready to defend myself and put a slight step back. "You, little…" And Dean charges at me, making me scream and sprint towards Sam to go and hide behind him, laughter already pouring out of me. And as this case has now been solved, I don't think we've laughed as much in the last couple of days, then in quite a long time.