Patience and Fortitude, Part II of II
Title: Patience and Fortitude, Part II of II
Rating:PG-13 for language
Fandom(s): Supernatural
Pairing: None
Warnings: Spoilers up to season 3.06
Disclaimer: Kripke won't play fair, so they're still his.
Summary: Sam finally has a chance to fulfill a lifelong dream. Unfortunately he has to go on a hunt to get it.
Sam was only too well aware that Dean was not the type to wake slowly. He would be at complete rest one moment and fight-ready a second later. So Sam wasn’t at all surprised when Dean suddenly woke from his sleep, his body already tense and prepared for battle.
“She hasn’t come back,” Sam said.
“What did you find out?” Dean asked, visibly relaxing.
“Her name’s Josephine Kerry, and she was a member of a very prominent New York family.” Sam pulled out an old photo from the diary and handed it to Dean. The picture contained two women - one of who was the ghost.
“She fell in love with a man named Jack Spencer in the summer of 1943. Her father didn’t approve of their relationship, so he gave her an ultimatum - her family or her boyfriend. She eloped with the guy and got pregnant. Few months after the wedding he went off to fight and was killed in Italy.”
“That sucks,” Dean said. “Let me guess, she was left penniless?”
“Yeah, but Jo was one of those women who could make it on her own, and she was doing just that when her father came back into her life. He practically begged her to rejoin the family. In fact, he used his grandchild as leverage. He offered to pay for kid’s education and everything. Even agreed to acknowledge the baby as an official Kerry. That finally convinced Jo to come back to her family.
“Two months later she gave birth to a healthy boy named Marcus. It was then the shit really hit the fan. Jack Spencer was black. Something she forgot to mention to her dad or anyone, in fact.”
“How come? You can't hide something like that.”
“Jack was fair enough to pass for a white man. And Josephine thought their baby would look just like his father. When her father found out he went nuclear. It took some talking but Josephine’s mother convinced Daddy Dearest not to toss out their daughter again.
“Instead, he gave the baby to another couple. At least that’s what he said he did.”
“I’m not going to like what’s coming, am I?”
“No, you’re not. Three years passed before she caved in and sneaked off to see her son. That’s when she found out Marcus had passed away soon after she relinquished him to her father.”
“The bastard killed his own grandson?”
“Looks like. It was all too much for her.”
“So she killed herself.” Dean finished. “Jesus, this is so messed up.”
“We have to find out if there are any relatives left. Jo wants people to know the truth. That’s why she's been haunting this library and targeting Jason specifically.”
“And then we burn the diary?”
“Then we burn the diary,” Sam agreed. “And that should be the end of it.”
“How long do you think she’s been here?”
“Her last entry was dated November of 1947.”
“So she’s been waiting for sixty years?”
“Looks like.”
Dean shook his head, “Like I said, demons I get. People are just batshit insane.”
Sam gave a solemn nod and pocketed the diary. They made their way to the prearranged spot to meet up with Jason only to discover the young man had come early. When he saw them genuine relief washed over his face.
“Damn glad to see you,” Jason said, handing them hot cups of coffee.
Sam was too grateful to wonder how Jason had managed to sneak the coffee in without getting caught.
“Did you get rid of it?” Jason asked.
“No, but we know what’s going on.” Dean answered. “And you really don’t want to hear it, kid. It’s ugly, depressing, and would put a serious downer on your Christmas plans.”
“Do you need my help?”
“Yeah, actually now that you mention it,” Dean said. “Can you get us some records?”
“I can do one better.” Jason answered proudly.
“Awesome!” Dean said with a wide grin.
Three hours later Sam wished Dean hadn’t so eagerly taken up on Jason’s offer. They were buried neck-deep in multiple records with fonts designed to blind the readers within hours of exposure. He heard Dean’s long-suffering sigh and was tempted to slam his book on top of Dean’s skull. Instead, he settled for throwing a dirty look at his brother.
“Dude, I don’t think she has any surviving family members left.” Dean said after closing the record book in front of him.
“I think you’re right.” Sam agreed wearily as he reread his notes.
“So, should we just get to the burning?”
“Looks like,” Sam answered then smiled as Dean raised his arms in quiet triumph.
They cautiously made their way down the street, looking for an alley where they could safely destroy the diary without raising any suspicions. Both were mindful of the fact that NYC was hotwired with security cameras and they were still very much on the FBI’s Wanted List. The last thing they needed was to make a stupid mistake and be identified before they could make a quick getaway. After all, as Sam had reminded Dean, Manhattan was still an island and there were only so many ways of getting out.
Finally Dean found a back alley crammed with huge dumpsters. Unless someone was actively looking they would be screened from view by the oversized metal containers. Sam found a dry corner and doused the diary with some kerosene. He lit the book and dropped it to the ground, ready to extinguish the flames at a moment’s notice. The two watched with growing trepidation as the flames licked the dusty book with no effect.
“What the fuck?” Dean whispered as he watched the diary burn and burn.
“Oh shit,” Sam said as he realized what was happening. With a heavy sigh he stomped out the flames.
“What just happened?” Dean asked as he picked up the diary and flipped through it. The book was slightly covered in soot but otherwise untouched.
“We’re in trouble,” Sam answered as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“How big…” Dean couldn’t finish his question as his cell interrupted the conversation. He looked at the caller ID and answered quickly.
“Jason? What’s wrong?”
Sam looked at his brother with open worry.
“We’ll be right there.” Dean said, his mouth set in a grim line. “Josephine Kerry must have sensed what we were doing and got really pissed. So far she’s shoved two people down the main stairs.”
“What? She’s surfaced from the stacks?”
“Yep, and now she’s on a rampage.”
“We missed something.”
“I know,” Dean said. “But what?”
“Maybe there is someone who needs to know?”
“Her husband’s definitely dead. His last surviving family member died ten years ago. She was an only child, and her parents didn’t have any surviving family members. The Kerry family tree is pretty much pruned to death. Who else is left? Her dog?”
Sam shook his head, “I don’t know. But we must have missed something.”
“Well, we’re going to have to go back. If only to stop her from going loco again.”
As it turned out the entire library was in lockdown because of some crazy woman who was seen shoving people down the main stairs. Sam wondered how the hell the security could have missed the fact that their ‘perp’ was dressed in a fashion dating back over half a century, and possessed the ability to appear and disappear at will. But, as he watched their nervous faces he wondered if they did, in truth, missed all those details or they were just unwilling to say them and risk being labeled as a nut.
Dean found Jason in the large crowd milling around the building and guided him to Sam.
“What’s going on?” Jason asked, trembling with fear. “I thought you guys had this under control.”
“We did too,” Sam said. “Obviously we were wrong.”
“Did you see her, Jason?” Dean asked.
Sam felt like an ass when Jason nodded unsteadily. How could he have forgotten Josephine’s ghost was gunning for the kid?
“I thought I had a mental snap when I saw her on the staircase,” Jason explained, his voice reed-thin with terror. “But then I saw her push Mrs. Kim and I knew I wasn’t hallucinating.
“She looked at me again but all I wanted to do was run. So I tried and that’s when she pushed the second person. Then I just freaked out and ran. I haven’t been inside since.”
“Jason, listen to me,” Sam said in a stern voice. “You did the right thing. Trust me, we don’t know what her intentions are yet so it’s best if you don’t go inside.”
“We may have a problem with that,” Dean said.
“What now?” Jason asked despairingly.
Dean pulled out the diary from his jacket pocket. “Technically she’s no longer tied down to the stacks.”
“Damn,” Sam swore softly. Then he turned to Jason and said, “We need more information.”
“What kind of information?”
“Wills and trusts. Even though there are no surviving family members, the money had to have been distributed somehow. Maybe we can find some useful information.”
Jason took a deep calming breath then nodded. Dean gave a comforting pat on the kid’s shoulder before throwing a worried glance towards Sam. Sam knew what that look meant: Dean’s internal countdown has begun.
Sam finally finished reading the documents. He had touched upon Property Law while attending Stanford and had fervently promised himself to never enter that arena of law. The information in front of him made him realize how marvelously sane that choice was.
“Any luck?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, from what I can gather Josephine’s mother died few years after her daughter’s suicide and left everything to her husband. He never remarried and died childless in 1963. His estate, which was considerable, was divided into three parts. One went to create a foundation for - and get this - helping orphans. Specifically, children of color.”
Dean’s smile was sharp and ugly. “Probably regretted killing off the only grandchild he’d ever have. The pathetic son of a bitch.”
“The second part went to support the public library system in Manhattan.”
“Really?” Dean said, “I wonder if that’s how the diary ended up in the junk pile.”
Sam nodded in agreement. “Could be. It’s plausible that his furniture and book collection were willed to the library.
“What’s interesting is the third part. He willed it to a girl named Nancy Donaldson. I don’t know who she is but if she’s alive she shouldn’t be so hard to find, considering her part of the inheritance was nearly ten million dollars.”
“Nancy?” Dean repeated. “Nancy … wait a minute.”
Dean flipped through the diary and pulled out the photograph Sam had shown earlier. He handed it to his brother and said, “read the back.”
Sam did. “Jo and Nan, 1941, The Lindy’s Spring Fling.”
Dean waited until Sam was finished studying the photograph. “I think she’s too young to be his mistress in the picture. But who the hell knows?”
“Now all we have to do is track her.”
“Let me call Jason.”
“Why?” Sam asked.
“Because all this is tied to the library, even Josephine. Maybe this Donaldson lady is too.”
Sam waited impatiently as Dean made the call outside as phone calls were forbidden in the reading room. When Sam saw Dean enter with a triumphant grin he knew his brother’s instinct paid off.
“Her name’s still Donaldson,” Dean whispered eagerly. “And she is one of the library’s most dedicated patrons. He got her address. It’s on Park Avenue so I’m guessing we’re gonna have to get scrubbed up.”
“No time,” Sam shook his head. “We’re just going to have to bullshit our way in.”
“I’ll take it. I hate those friggin' jackets anyway. Makes me look like an IRS dork.”
The doorman gave them the hairy eyeball when they walked by, and Sam found himself straightening out his threadbare jacket as a reflex.
A young man dressed in a conservative but fashionable suit waited for them in the foyer.
“Mr. Dean Kirke and Mr. Samuel Burrell?”
“That would be us,” Dean said.
“My name is Andrew Selby. Please follow me.” The assistant said before briskly herding them down the marble corridor and into an ornate elevator.
“You were lucky to have called today,” Andrew said. “She was due to leave for her winter residence the day after tomorrow.”
“I see,” Sam said. “Well, we’re just grateful that she has allowed us audience, especially considering her schedule.”
“I must admit I was surprised,” Andrew chatted as he scanned his Blackberry. “She was very excited to get your phone call. In fact, she canceled all her afternoon appointments.
“May I ask why?”
Dean saw the sly glance and quickly said, “We found something Ms. Donaldson might be interested in. A historical item related to the Library.”
“Oh,” Andrew deflated visibly, “of course. She’s positively obsessed about that place. I don’t know why - I mean books are so obsolete if you ask me.”
“Really?” Sam said, his cold tone clearly reflecting his disdain.
Suddenly the elevator door opened to a private residence that encompassed the entire twenty-third floor. Both he and Dean took a look at the apartment and then at each other. This was luxury they only heard about. Andrew stiffly led them to what he called the ‘morning room’ and left without a word of farewell.
Both Winchesters stood awkwardly, neither wanting to take a seat only to discover they had destroyed a museum-quality piece of furniture.
“Well, either I’m in heaven or you are the ones who contacted me,” a strong female voice said from behind them.
Sam whirled around and saw an elderly woman standing in the doorway. Her hair was snow-white and sparse, her face wizened. But her eyes were clear and Sam suspected her mind even clearer.
“Yes, we are.” Sam said. “Ms. Donaldson?”
“Oh, call me Nan. I hate it when people stick Ms. or Mrs. or whatnot in front of my name. It confuses matters.”
“Nan,” Sam said with a genuine smile. “I think we have something that belongs to you.”
Dean handed over the diary without a word. Nan’s eyes immediately widened in shock as she looked at the small book in her hands.
“Oh my God, where did you find it?” She whispered.
“In the Library, hidden inside a junked desk,” Dean said. “We thought it might be … of personal value to someone, considering how much private information it contains.”
Nan’s eyes grew hard. “If you’re blackmailing me you’ll find me a cold customer.”
“No, no that’s not it. We just want … we just want you to read it.” Sam hastily explained.
“Why?”
“Because Josephine’s ghost has been on a rampage for over fifty years, trying to get the truth out.” Dean said bluntly. He caught Sam’s panicked gaze and said, “What? It’s the truth!”
“You mean to tell me the Blue Lady of the Library is Jo?” Nan asked.
“You know about the ghost?” Sam asked.
“Of course, anyone who’s had some dealing with the place knows about her. I personally never saw her, but heaven knows I’ve heard a story or two about her.”
“It’s her, Nan.” Sam said kindly. “And I think she’s been unable to move on because of what was done to her. And her son.”
Nan’s gaze flared in shock once more. Sam took back the diary and flipped to the relevant section before handing it back to her. Nan began reading and it wasn’t long before she understood what Dean meant when he mentioned ‘private information.’
“I always knew my father was a bastard, but this … this is unforgivable!”
“So you and Josephine were sisters?” Sam asked.
“Half sisters. My mother was his mistress and I was his bastard. It was no secret, even Jo knew the truth. But she never treated me ill because of it. The truth was she was very good to me. Made sure I was taken care of, gave me all the comforts a big sister would have.
“When she ran away and got married, it nearly broke my heart. But I was happy for her. I knew how much she loved her husband. When her man died over in Italy I was genuinely sad for Jo.”
“So you didn’t know about his…”
“No, I didn’t.” Nan sat down, her grief unveiling her age. “Oh, our father was a hard man, an unforgiving man. When he took Jo back I was shocked, but I was so glad I didn’t question why. Jo seemed happy at first but it wasn’t long before she and our father were butting heads again.
“Then one day … all I knew was she died in a boating accident. That’s all they said. I had no cause to believe otherwise. The poor girl. If I only knew … God, if I only knew.”
“Now you do.” Dean said gently.
“Lot of good that’s going to do now,” Nan said, her voice thick with tears. “I miss her so much. She had such fire in her, such love of life. She was a fearless girl, which is why I never suspected suicide.”
“Nan, can I try something?” Sam asked.
“Of course.”
Sam took the diary, flipped to a blank page and ripped it out. He handed the book back to Nan and then walked to the ornate fireplace. Dean held his breath as Sam lit the page with a lighter. They both gave a huge sigh of relief as it immediately burst into flames.
“She’s at rest now,” Sam said. “She’s at peace.”
“Are you sure? How can you be sure?”
Sam heard the desperate, unspoken plea for reassurance. “We’re sure. It’s our job to be sure.”
Nan clutched the diary to her chest and wept in earnest. Dean put a comforting hand on the frail shoulder as the old woman grieved for a sister stolen from her by betrayal.
“Dude, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Dean whispered as he anxiously eyed the upscale clientele waiting for the elevator. All of whom eyed them with equal anxiety.
“No,” Sam hissed. “We’re never going to have a chance to stay in a hotel like this ever again, so if you want to go to some roach-infested meth dive, be my guest. But I am planning to spend some quality time with the shower and the wireless internet.”
Dean clenched his jaw as he followed Sam into the elevator.
“Why the hell is it called Mandarin Oriental when we’re not even in China, huh? Sounds dodgy to me.”
Sam closed his eyes and willed his brother to shut the hell up.
After calming down, Nan decided to show her gratitude by treating them to what she called ‘a proper good time in her town’. As it turned out her idea of a good time included two nights at the new Mandarin Oriental, a Broadway play, and meals at some of the best restaurants that wouldn’t care who their clientele was as long as the check got paid.
Dean was about to refuse the offer and backpedal out of the apartment as fast as possible, but Sam eagerly accepted the generous gift. He had imagined as a child that one day he was going to live it up in the Big Apple, and now that dream was handed to him on a proverbial silver platter he had little qualm about taking it.
The front desk hostess didn’t bat an eye when they checked in and cheerfully reviewed the hotel’s amenities while giving Dean a heated glance over. Dean relaxed immediately now that he was in a familiar element and flirted outrageously with the woman who seemed genuinely appreciative of his attention.
Sam had to practically drag his brother away from the desk but not before Dean found out the receptionist’s name, cell number, and the time she got off work. Dean was grinning like he’d won the lottery during the elevator ride, but his smile was nothing compared to Sam’s when they entered their suite.
“Holy shit,” Dean said aloud as he stared at the rooms. “Is she serious?”
“Oh God, yes.” Sam said dramatically as he dove into a king-sized bed. Miracle of all miracles his feet didn’t dangle. In fact the bed could comfortably cocoon both Winchesters without a problem.
“Look at this … dude, you could fit in this tub,” Dean said from the bathroom.
Sam scurried off the bed and into the bathroom where, indeed, there was a Sam-sized bathtub.
“Get out,” Sam whispered as he lovingly stroked the brass faucets.
“Umm … okay,” Dean said with laughter in his eyes as he watched Sam turn on the hot water.
Rarely did they have the luxury of using as much hot water as they would have liked. So Sam wanted to soak himself until he’d turn red and wrinkly.
“Do you want room service?” Dean shouted from the sitting area.
“Just order me a chicken dish!” Sam answered through the closed door. “I don’t care! And some coffee!”
“Jesus Christ! Look at these friggin’ prices! Man, this is the best con I’ve ever seen.”
Sam chuckled at the awe and disbelief in his brother’s voice. Fifteen minutes later steaming dishes of heavenly food surrounded them. After Dean finished his meal of Kobe beef hamburger with parmesan-crusted fries, he went on-line to read about the play they were seeing later in the evening.
“Are these people for real?” Dean said aloud as he read the New York Times review.
“What people?” Sam asked as he tried to make himself look halfway presentable in his JCpenny suit.
“This O’Neill guy who wrote the play we’re seeing.”
Sam froze for a moment. He softly said, “Long Day’s Journey Into Night. It’s thought to be his best, Dean. And many consider it to be one of the greatest if not the greatest American play ever.”
“Dude, this family makes us look like the Waltons.”
Sam couldn’t stop himself. He sat down and laughed, loudly. He remembered how greatly that play affected him when he first saw it in Stanford. Though he knew he was nothing like Edmund, the tragedy that circled the character, and truthfully the entire family, had him rethinking about the life he had so callously left behind.
“We’re not going to see it,” Dean said firmly.
“Yes we are. If anything, watching another family fuck it up better than us should give us a sense of accomplishment.”
“That’s seriously twisted.”
“You’ll enjoy it, Dean.”
“You sure you want to see it? Theresa downstairs has a pretty friend and we could go out and party hardy in the Big Apple.”
Sam realized Dean was hesitant to go to the play because of him. No, he was nothing like Edmund for Dean sure as hell was nothing like Jamie.
“Yeah, you’ll love it. Trust me.”
Dean did, of course. So no, he was nothing like Jamie.
The next day Dean was uncharacteristically reserved. Sam knew Dean was brooding about the play but decided not to push the topic. It wasn’t until they were at Rockefeller Center to see the world-famous Christmas tree that Dean began talking again.
“It didn’t have the necessary stuff to make a Balanced Winchester Meal, but it came damn close.”
Sam had to think for a moment before realizing Dean was talking about the play.
“Am I going to regret asking what a Balanced Winchester Meal is?”
“Winchester’s idea of a balanced meal: grief, confusion, with a big dash of shit-in-your-pants terror.”
Sam nearly spewed the soda he was drinking. Dean just grinned and watched as Sam wiped off his mouth with his coat sleeve.
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah, sounds familiar,” Dean replied casually as he checked out the a group of beautifully dressed young Asian women, one of whom was eyeing him with inviting curiosity.
“Dude, let’s see where they’re going.” Dean said eagerly as the women started walking away.
Before Sam could object Dean dove into the hectic crowd, chasing after his quarry. The younger Winchester snarled some choice words as he had to elbow his way through the tightly packed shoppers, all who seemed to want to go in the opposite direction. Sam finally spotted his errant brother staring at a window display with what could only be described as ecstasy. He wondered what the store could possibly offer that it would successfully take Dean’s attention from his favorite and probably only legal hobby.
When Sam reached his brother it didn’t take long for him to fall into the same state as Dean.
The pristine display offered beautiful Japanese confectionary, packaged in gorgeous containers that seemed to be specifically made to be turned into keepsake boxes. The two women behind the register eyed them with gentle amusement as they stopped drooling and finally entered the store. After a long discussion Dean hunkered down forty dollars and got two boxes filled with sweets.
They hadn’t a clue they actually received fifty dollars worth.
As they exited the store Dean looked at Sam with such childish glee all Sam could do was smile back. Rarely has he seen his brother’s face so open with joy, and innocent at that. Sam decided to splurge and got both of them coffee from Starbucks before returning to the hotel. Somehow they managed not to delve into the boxes until they snagged two prime viewing seats in the lobby in order to watch the famous city skyline come to life with dazzling lights.
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask one of the cashiers for a night out,” Sam said while munching on something he could only describe as heavenly.
“Why would I?”
“Umm … bustyasianbeauties.net?” Sam sniggered as Dean coughed up some coffee. Never let it be said he wasn’t a patient man.
“Bite your tongue! Those women are ladies!” Dean scolded as he deftly popped an entire pastry into his mouth.
Sam watched in unabashed amazement. He had tried that stunt once when he was nine and nearly choked to death. So, he took a cautious bite into his and closed his eyes, making blissful noises. Unfortunately he didn’t realize this afforded Dean to take a quick picture of him with his cell.
“So, you think Edmund’s going to make it?”
Sam reminded himself that Dean’s brain worked in mysterious ways. “Don’t know.”
“Do you think Jamie’s going to make it?”
“Don’t know that either.”
“Do you want them to?”
“Of course I do. What the hell kind of question is that?!”
“Just that some people, a lot of people actually, would say they got what they deserved. After all they’re the ones who fucked up their lives. And if they don’t have the balls to see that, then they get what’s coming to them.”
“Then a lot of people are going to get coals for Christmas.” Sam answered firmly. “And they deserve what’s coming to them.”
Dean gave a single nod, “Yeah, bro. I do too. Hey, think Nan’s having a good time whooping it up in Italy?”
“Oh I hope so. I really do.”
“Do you think we deserve what’s coming to us?”
“Damn right I do,” Sam answered without hesitation. He turned to Dean and caught his brother’s gaze. “By the way, Merry Christmas.”
“Do you know what would make it even merrier?”
“Theresa and her friend?”
“Good guess but no. You’re gonna love this. I found out where they keep that New Year Ball they use in Time Square. I think we could…”
“Oh God, Dean, no!”
“C’mon, man, it’s in some friggin’ warehouse! That’s just beggin’ to be…”
“I said no!”
“Sam, don’t be a pussy! It’ll take…”
“No,” Sam replied, hunching into his chair. “No, no no nooo…”
The End
Author's Notes:
The Japanese confectionary shop is quite real. It's called Minamoto Kitchoan. If you are in NYC I highly recommend visiting it, as its sweets are legendary. I have a huge fondness for the library. It has been one of my favorite haunts during childhood, and though there is no Blue Lady, I am quite it has its fair share of ghost stories!
Rating:PG-13 for language
Fandom(s): Supernatural
Pairing: None
Warnings: Spoilers up to season 3.06
Disclaimer: Kripke won't play fair, so they're still his.
Summary: Sam finally has a chance to fulfill a lifelong dream. Unfortunately he has to go on a hunt to get it.
Sam was only too well aware that Dean was not the type to wake slowly. He would be at complete rest one moment and fight-ready a second later. So Sam wasn’t at all surprised when Dean suddenly woke from his sleep, his body already tense and prepared for battle.
“She hasn’t come back,” Sam said.
“What did you find out?” Dean asked, visibly relaxing.
“Her name’s Josephine Kerry, and she was a member of a very prominent New York family.” Sam pulled out an old photo from the diary and handed it to Dean. The picture contained two women - one of who was the ghost.
“She fell in love with a man named Jack Spencer in the summer of 1943. Her father didn’t approve of their relationship, so he gave her an ultimatum - her family or her boyfriend. She eloped with the guy and got pregnant. Few months after the wedding he went off to fight and was killed in Italy.”
“That sucks,” Dean said. “Let me guess, she was left penniless?”
“Yeah, but Jo was one of those women who could make it on her own, and she was doing just that when her father came back into her life. He practically begged her to rejoin the family. In fact, he used his grandchild as leverage. He offered to pay for kid’s education and everything. Even agreed to acknowledge the baby as an official Kerry. That finally convinced Jo to come back to her family.
“Two months later she gave birth to a healthy boy named Marcus. It was then the shit really hit the fan. Jack Spencer was black. Something she forgot to mention to her dad or anyone, in fact.”
“How come? You can't hide something like that.”
“Jack was fair enough to pass for a white man. And Josephine thought their baby would look just like his father. When her father found out he went nuclear. It took some talking but Josephine’s mother convinced Daddy Dearest not to toss out their daughter again.
“Instead, he gave the baby to another couple. At least that’s what he said he did.”
“I’m not going to like what’s coming, am I?”
“No, you’re not. Three years passed before she caved in and sneaked off to see her son. That’s when she found out Marcus had passed away soon after she relinquished him to her father.”
“The bastard killed his own grandson?”
“Looks like. It was all too much for her.”
“So she killed herself.” Dean finished. “Jesus, this is so messed up.”
“We have to find out if there are any relatives left. Jo wants people to know the truth. That’s why she's been haunting this library and targeting Jason specifically.”
“And then we burn the diary?”
“Then we burn the diary,” Sam agreed. “And that should be the end of it.”
“How long do you think she’s been here?”
“Her last entry was dated November of 1947.”
“So she’s been waiting for sixty years?”
“Looks like.”
Dean shook his head, “Like I said, demons I get. People are just batshit insane.”
Sam gave a solemn nod and pocketed the diary. They made their way to the prearranged spot to meet up with Jason only to discover the young man had come early. When he saw them genuine relief washed over his face.
“Damn glad to see you,” Jason said, handing them hot cups of coffee.
Sam was too grateful to wonder how Jason had managed to sneak the coffee in without getting caught.
“Did you get rid of it?” Jason asked.
“No, but we know what’s going on.” Dean answered. “And you really don’t want to hear it, kid. It’s ugly, depressing, and would put a serious downer on your Christmas plans.”
“Do you need my help?”
“Yeah, actually now that you mention it,” Dean said. “Can you get us some records?”
“I can do one better.” Jason answered proudly.
“Awesome!” Dean said with a wide grin.
Three hours later Sam wished Dean hadn’t so eagerly taken up on Jason’s offer. They were buried neck-deep in multiple records with fonts designed to blind the readers within hours of exposure. He heard Dean’s long-suffering sigh and was tempted to slam his book on top of Dean’s skull. Instead, he settled for throwing a dirty look at his brother.
“Dude, I don’t think she has any surviving family members left.” Dean said after closing the record book in front of him.
“I think you’re right.” Sam agreed wearily as he reread his notes.
“So, should we just get to the burning?”
“Looks like,” Sam answered then smiled as Dean raised his arms in quiet triumph.
They cautiously made their way down the street, looking for an alley where they could safely destroy the diary without raising any suspicions. Both were mindful of the fact that NYC was hotwired with security cameras and they were still very much on the FBI’s Wanted List. The last thing they needed was to make a stupid mistake and be identified before they could make a quick getaway. After all, as Sam had reminded Dean, Manhattan was still an island and there were only so many ways of getting out.
Finally Dean found a back alley crammed with huge dumpsters. Unless someone was actively looking they would be screened from view by the oversized metal containers. Sam found a dry corner and doused the diary with some kerosene. He lit the book and dropped it to the ground, ready to extinguish the flames at a moment’s notice. The two watched with growing trepidation as the flames licked the dusty book with no effect.
“What the fuck?” Dean whispered as he watched the diary burn and burn.
“Oh shit,” Sam said as he realized what was happening. With a heavy sigh he stomped out the flames.
“What just happened?” Dean asked as he picked up the diary and flipped through it. The book was slightly covered in soot but otherwise untouched.
“We’re in trouble,” Sam answered as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“How big…” Dean couldn’t finish his question as his cell interrupted the conversation. He looked at the caller ID and answered quickly.
“Jason? What’s wrong?”
Sam looked at his brother with open worry.
“We’ll be right there.” Dean said, his mouth set in a grim line. “Josephine Kerry must have sensed what we were doing and got really pissed. So far she’s shoved two people down the main stairs.”
“What? She’s surfaced from the stacks?”
“Yep, and now she’s on a rampage.”
“We missed something.”
“I know,” Dean said. “But what?”
“Maybe there is someone who needs to know?”
“Her husband’s definitely dead. His last surviving family member died ten years ago. She was an only child, and her parents didn’t have any surviving family members. The Kerry family tree is pretty much pruned to death. Who else is left? Her dog?”
Sam shook his head, “I don’t know. But we must have missed something.”
“Well, we’re going to have to go back. If only to stop her from going loco again.”
As it turned out the entire library was in lockdown because of some crazy woman who was seen shoving people down the main stairs. Sam wondered how the hell the security could have missed the fact that their ‘perp’ was dressed in a fashion dating back over half a century, and possessed the ability to appear and disappear at will. But, as he watched their nervous faces he wondered if they did, in truth, missed all those details or they were just unwilling to say them and risk being labeled as a nut.
Dean found Jason in the large crowd milling around the building and guided him to Sam.
“What’s going on?” Jason asked, trembling with fear. “I thought you guys had this under control.”
“We did too,” Sam said. “Obviously we were wrong.”
“Did you see her, Jason?” Dean asked.
Sam felt like an ass when Jason nodded unsteadily. How could he have forgotten Josephine’s ghost was gunning for the kid?
“I thought I had a mental snap when I saw her on the staircase,” Jason explained, his voice reed-thin with terror. “But then I saw her push Mrs. Kim and I knew I wasn’t hallucinating.
“She looked at me again but all I wanted to do was run. So I tried and that’s when she pushed the second person. Then I just freaked out and ran. I haven’t been inside since.”
“Jason, listen to me,” Sam said in a stern voice. “You did the right thing. Trust me, we don’t know what her intentions are yet so it’s best if you don’t go inside.”
“We may have a problem with that,” Dean said.
“What now?” Jason asked despairingly.
Dean pulled out the diary from his jacket pocket. “Technically she’s no longer tied down to the stacks.”
“Damn,” Sam swore softly. Then he turned to Jason and said, “We need more information.”
“What kind of information?”
“Wills and trusts. Even though there are no surviving family members, the money had to have been distributed somehow. Maybe we can find some useful information.”
Jason took a deep calming breath then nodded. Dean gave a comforting pat on the kid’s shoulder before throwing a worried glance towards Sam. Sam knew what that look meant: Dean’s internal countdown has begun.
Sam finally finished reading the documents. He had touched upon Property Law while attending Stanford and had fervently promised himself to never enter that arena of law. The information in front of him made him realize how marvelously sane that choice was.
“Any luck?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, from what I can gather Josephine’s mother died few years after her daughter’s suicide and left everything to her husband. He never remarried and died childless in 1963. His estate, which was considerable, was divided into three parts. One went to create a foundation for - and get this - helping orphans. Specifically, children of color.”
Dean’s smile was sharp and ugly. “Probably regretted killing off the only grandchild he’d ever have. The pathetic son of a bitch.”
“The second part went to support the public library system in Manhattan.”
“Really?” Dean said, “I wonder if that’s how the diary ended up in the junk pile.”
Sam nodded in agreement. “Could be. It’s plausible that his furniture and book collection were willed to the library.
“What’s interesting is the third part. He willed it to a girl named Nancy Donaldson. I don’t know who she is but if she’s alive she shouldn’t be so hard to find, considering her part of the inheritance was nearly ten million dollars.”
“Nancy?” Dean repeated. “Nancy … wait a minute.”
Dean flipped through the diary and pulled out the photograph Sam had shown earlier. He handed it to his brother and said, “read the back.”
Sam did. “Jo and Nan, 1941, The Lindy’s Spring Fling.”
Dean waited until Sam was finished studying the photograph. “I think she’s too young to be his mistress in the picture. But who the hell knows?”
“Now all we have to do is track her.”
“Let me call Jason.”
“Why?” Sam asked.
“Because all this is tied to the library, even Josephine. Maybe this Donaldson lady is too.”
Sam waited impatiently as Dean made the call outside as phone calls were forbidden in the reading room. When Sam saw Dean enter with a triumphant grin he knew his brother’s instinct paid off.
“Her name’s still Donaldson,” Dean whispered eagerly. “And she is one of the library’s most dedicated patrons. He got her address. It’s on Park Avenue so I’m guessing we’re gonna have to get scrubbed up.”
“No time,” Sam shook his head. “We’re just going to have to bullshit our way in.”
“I’ll take it. I hate those friggin' jackets anyway. Makes me look like an IRS dork.”
The doorman gave them the hairy eyeball when they walked by, and Sam found himself straightening out his threadbare jacket as a reflex.
A young man dressed in a conservative but fashionable suit waited for them in the foyer.
“Mr. Dean Kirke and Mr. Samuel Burrell?”
“That would be us,” Dean said.
“My name is Andrew Selby. Please follow me.” The assistant said before briskly herding them down the marble corridor and into an ornate elevator.
“You were lucky to have called today,” Andrew said. “She was due to leave for her winter residence the day after tomorrow.”
“I see,” Sam said. “Well, we’re just grateful that she has allowed us audience, especially considering her schedule.”
“I must admit I was surprised,” Andrew chatted as he scanned his Blackberry. “She was very excited to get your phone call. In fact, she canceled all her afternoon appointments.
“May I ask why?”
Dean saw the sly glance and quickly said, “We found something Ms. Donaldson might be interested in. A historical item related to the Library.”
“Oh,” Andrew deflated visibly, “of course. She’s positively obsessed about that place. I don’t know why - I mean books are so obsolete if you ask me.”
“Really?” Sam said, his cold tone clearly reflecting his disdain.
Suddenly the elevator door opened to a private residence that encompassed the entire twenty-third floor. Both he and Dean took a look at the apartment and then at each other. This was luxury they only heard about. Andrew stiffly led them to what he called the ‘morning room’ and left without a word of farewell.
Both Winchesters stood awkwardly, neither wanting to take a seat only to discover they had destroyed a museum-quality piece of furniture.
“Well, either I’m in heaven or you are the ones who contacted me,” a strong female voice said from behind them.
Sam whirled around and saw an elderly woman standing in the doorway. Her hair was snow-white and sparse, her face wizened. But her eyes were clear and Sam suspected her mind even clearer.
“Yes, we are.” Sam said. “Ms. Donaldson?”
“Oh, call me Nan. I hate it when people stick Ms. or Mrs. or whatnot in front of my name. It confuses matters.”
“Nan,” Sam said with a genuine smile. “I think we have something that belongs to you.”
Dean handed over the diary without a word. Nan’s eyes immediately widened in shock as she looked at the small book in her hands.
“Oh my God, where did you find it?” She whispered.
“In the Library, hidden inside a junked desk,” Dean said. “We thought it might be … of personal value to someone, considering how much private information it contains.”
Nan’s eyes grew hard. “If you’re blackmailing me you’ll find me a cold customer.”
“No, no that’s not it. We just want … we just want you to read it.” Sam hastily explained.
“Why?”
“Because Josephine’s ghost has been on a rampage for over fifty years, trying to get the truth out.” Dean said bluntly. He caught Sam’s panicked gaze and said, “What? It’s the truth!”
“You mean to tell me the Blue Lady of the Library is Jo?” Nan asked.
“You know about the ghost?” Sam asked.
“Of course, anyone who’s had some dealing with the place knows about her. I personally never saw her, but heaven knows I’ve heard a story or two about her.”
“It’s her, Nan.” Sam said kindly. “And I think she’s been unable to move on because of what was done to her. And her son.”
Nan’s gaze flared in shock once more. Sam took back the diary and flipped to the relevant section before handing it back to her. Nan began reading and it wasn’t long before she understood what Dean meant when he mentioned ‘private information.’
“I always knew my father was a bastard, but this … this is unforgivable!”
“So you and Josephine were sisters?” Sam asked.
“Half sisters. My mother was his mistress and I was his bastard. It was no secret, even Jo knew the truth. But she never treated me ill because of it. The truth was she was very good to me. Made sure I was taken care of, gave me all the comforts a big sister would have.
“When she ran away and got married, it nearly broke my heart. But I was happy for her. I knew how much she loved her husband. When her man died over in Italy I was genuinely sad for Jo.”
“So you didn’t know about his…”
“No, I didn’t.” Nan sat down, her grief unveiling her age. “Oh, our father was a hard man, an unforgiving man. When he took Jo back I was shocked, but I was so glad I didn’t question why. Jo seemed happy at first but it wasn’t long before she and our father were butting heads again.
“Then one day … all I knew was she died in a boating accident. That’s all they said. I had no cause to believe otherwise. The poor girl. If I only knew … God, if I only knew.”
“Now you do.” Dean said gently.
“Lot of good that’s going to do now,” Nan said, her voice thick with tears. “I miss her so much. She had such fire in her, such love of life. She was a fearless girl, which is why I never suspected suicide.”
“Nan, can I try something?” Sam asked.
“Of course.”
Sam took the diary, flipped to a blank page and ripped it out. He handed the book back to Nan and then walked to the ornate fireplace. Dean held his breath as Sam lit the page with a lighter. They both gave a huge sigh of relief as it immediately burst into flames.
“She’s at rest now,” Sam said. “She’s at peace.”
“Are you sure? How can you be sure?”
Sam heard the desperate, unspoken plea for reassurance. “We’re sure. It’s our job to be sure.”
Nan clutched the diary to her chest and wept in earnest. Dean put a comforting hand on the frail shoulder as the old woman grieved for a sister stolen from her by betrayal.
“Dude, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Dean whispered as he anxiously eyed the upscale clientele waiting for the elevator. All of whom eyed them with equal anxiety.
“No,” Sam hissed. “We’re never going to have a chance to stay in a hotel like this ever again, so if you want to go to some roach-infested meth dive, be my guest. But I am planning to spend some quality time with the shower and the wireless internet.”
Dean clenched his jaw as he followed Sam into the elevator.
“Why the hell is it called Mandarin Oriental when we’re not even in China, huh? Sounds dodgy to me.”
Sam closed his eyes and willed his brother to shut the hell up.
After calming down, Nan decided to show her gratitude by treating them to what she called ‘a proper good time in her town’. As it turned out her idea of a good time included two nights at the new Mandarin Oriental, a Broadway play, and meals at some of the best restaurants that wouldn’t care who their clientele was as long as the check got paid.
Dean was about to refuse the offer and backpedal out of the apartment as fast as possible, but Sam eagerly accepted the generous gift. He had imagined as a child that one day he was going to live it up in the Big Apple, and now that dream was handed to him on a proverbial silver platter he had little qualm about taking it.
The front desk hostess didn’t bat an eye when they checked in and cheerfully reviewed the hotel’s amenities while giving Dean a heated glance over. Dean relaxed immediately now that he was in a familiar element and flirted outrageously with the woman who seemed genuinely appreciative of his attention.
Sam had to practically drag his brother away from the desk but not before Dean found out the receptionist’s name, cell number, and the time she got off work. Dean was grinning like he’d won the lottery during the elevator ride, but his smile was nothing compared to Sam’s when they entered their suite.
“Holy shit,” Dean said aloud as he stared at the rooms. “Is she serious?”
“Oh God, yes.” Sam said dramatically as he dove into a king-sized bed. Miracle of all miracles his feet didn’t dangle. In fact the bed could comfortably cocoon both Winchesters without a problem.
“Look at this … dude, you could fit in this tub,” Dean said from the bathroom.
Sam scurried off the bed and into the bathroom where, indeed, there was a Sam-sized bathtub.
“Get out,” Sam whispered as he lovingly stroked the brass faucets.
“Umm … okay,” Dean said with laughter in his eyes as he watched Sam turn on the hot water.
Rarely did they have the luxury of using as much hot water as they would have liked. So Sam wanted to soak himself until he’d turn red and wrinkly.
“Do you want room service?” Dean shouted from the sitting area.
“Just order me a chicken dish!” Sam answered through the closed door. “I don’t care! And some coffee!”
“Jesus Christ! Look at these friggin’ prices! Man, this is the best con I’ve ever seen.”
Sam chuckled at the awe and disbelief in his brother’s voice. Fifteen minutes later steaming dishes of heavenly food surrounded them. After Dean finished his meal of Kobe beef hamburger with parmesan-crusted fries, he went on-line to read about the play they were seeing later in the evening.
“Are these people for real?” Dean said aloud as he read the New York Times review.
“What people?” Sam asked as he tried to make himself look halfway presentable in his JCpenny suit.
“This O’Neill guy who wrote the play we’re seeing.”
Sam froze for a moment. He softly said, “Long Day’s Journey Into Night. It’s thought to be his best, Dean. And many consider it to be one of the greatest if not the greatest American play ever.”
“Dude, this family makes us look like the Waltons.”
Sam couldn’t stop himself. He sat down and laughed, loudly. He remembered how greatly that play affected him when he first saw it in Stanford. Though he knew he was nothing like Edmund, the tragedy that circled the character, and truthfully the entire family, had him rethinking about the life he had so callously left behind.
“We’re not going to see it,” Dean said firmly.
“Yes we are. If anything, watching another family fuck it up better than us should give us a sense of accomplishment.”
“That’s seriously twisted.”
“You’ll enjoy it, Dean.”
“You sure you want to see it? Theresa downstairs has a pretty friend and we could go out and party hardy in the Big Apple.”
Sam realized Dean was hesitant to go to the play because of him. No, he was nothing like Edmund for Dean sure as hell was nothing like Jamie.
“Yeah, you’ll love it. Trust me.”
Dean did, of course. So no, he was nothing like Jamie.
The next day Dean was uncharacteristically reserved. Sam knew Dean was brooding about the play but decided not to push the topic. It wasn’t until they were at Rockefeller Center to see the world-famous Christmas tree that Dean began talking again.
“It didn’t have the necessary stuff to make a Balanced Winchester Meal, but it came damn close.”
Sam had to think for a moment before realizing Dean was talking about the play.
“Am I going to regret asking what a Balanced Winchester Meal is?”
“Winchester’s idea of a balanced meal: grief, confusion, with a big dash of shit-in-your-pants terror.”
Sam nearly spewed the soda he was drinking. Dean just grinned and watched as Sam wiped off his mouth with his coat sleeve.
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah, sounds familiar,” Dean replied casually as he checked out the a group of beautifully dressed young Asian women, one of whom was eyeing him with inviting curiosity.
“Dude, let’s see where they’re going.” Dean said eagerly as the women started walking away.
Before Sam could object Dean dove into the hectic crowd, chasing after his quarry. The younger Winchester snarled some choice words as he had to elbow his way through the tightly packed shoppers, all who seemed to want to go in the opposite direction. Sam finally spotted his errant brother staring at a window display with what could only be described as ecstasy. He wondered what the store could possibly offer that it would successfully take Dean’s attention from his favorite and probably only legal hobby.
When Sam reached his brother it didn’t take long for him to fall into the same state as Dean.
The pristine display offered beautiful Japanese confectionary, packaged in gorgeous containers that seemed to be specifically made to be turned into keepsake boxes. The two women behind the register eyed them with gentle amusement as they stopped drooling and finally entered the store. After a long discussion Dean hunkered down forty dollars and got two boxes filled with sweets.
They hadn’t a clue they actually received fifty dollars worth.
As they exited the store Dean looked at Sam with such childish glee all Sam could do was smile back. Rarely has he seen his brother’s face so open with joy, and innocent at that. Sam decided to splurge and got both of them coffee from Starbucks before returning to the hotel. Somehow they managed not to delve into the boxes until they snagged two prime viewing seats in the lobby in order to watch the famous city skyline come to life with dazzling lights.
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask one of the cashiers for a night out,” Sam said while munching on something he could only describe as heavenly.
“Why would I?”
“Umm … bustyasianbeauties.net?” Sam sniggered as Dean coughed up some coffee. Never let it be said he wasn’t a patient man.
“Bite your tongue! Those women are ladies!” Dean scolded as he deftly popped an entire pastry into his mouth.
Sam watched in unabashed amazement. He had tried that stunt once when he was nine and nearly choked to death. So, he took a cautious bite into his and closed his eyes, making blissful noises. Unfortunately he didn’t realize this afforded Dean to take a quick picture of him with his cell.
“So, you think Edmund’s going to make it?”
Sam reminded himself that Dean’s brain worked in mysterious ways. “Don’t know.”
“Do you think Jamie’s going to make it?”
“Don’t know that either.”
“Do you want them to?”
“Of course I do. What the hell kind of question is that?!”
“Just that some people, a lot of people actually, would say they got what they deserved. After all they’re the ones who fucked up their lives. And if they don’t have the balls to see that, then they get what’s coming to them.”
“Then a lot of people are going to get coals for Christmas.” Sam answered firmly. “And they deserve what’s coming to them.”
Dean gave a single nod, “Yeah, bro. I do too. Hey, think Nan’s having a good time whooping it up in Italy?”
“Oh I hope so. I really do.”
“Do you think we deserve what’s coming to us?”
“Damn right I do,” Sam answered without hesitation. He turned to Dean and caught his brother’s gaze. “By the way, Merry Christmas.”
“Do you know what would make it even merrier?”
“Theresa and her friend?”
“Good guess but no. You’re gonna love this. I found out where they keep that New Year Ball they use in Time Square. I think we could…”
“Oh God, Dean, no!”
“C’mon, man, it’s in some friggin’ warehouse! That’s just beggin’ to be…”
“I said no!”
“Sam, don’t be a pussy! It’ll take…”
“No,” Sam replied, hunching into his chair. “No, no no nooo…”
The End
Author's Notes:
The Japanese confectionary shop is quite real. It's called Minamoto Kitchoan. If you are in NYC I highly recommend visiting it, as its sweets are legendary. I have a huge fondness for the library. It has been one of my favorite haunts during childhood, and though there is no Blue Lady, I am quite it has its fair share of ghost stories!