SPN Big Bang 2011 - Where the Wind Blows - Part 3
Go back to PART 2
Dean opened the front door and waved to the three figures standing on the circular patch of grass right in front of the house. They started striding towards him, and he stepped back to let them in. Trinity entered first, followed by her brother, with George bringing up the rear. All three of them had insisted to be present in case of any medical emergency, even when they acquiesced to staying out of the main house.
Uncharitably, Dean thought that George wanted to make sure they wouldn't be running away with his silver or anything more precious. But that might just be him.
After George stepped in, Dean closed the door and faced the family.
"So, is it over?" George was almost bouncing on his heels, eager to put the whole haunting business behind him.
Dean hated to disappoint him. "Unfortunately, we don't think so." He shared a look with his brother. "There weren't any attacks when we placed all the bags in the wall, which is great, but it's also worrying. It might mean that it wasn't a poltergeist that's attacking your daughter."
George's face fell. "So what you did was a waste of time? Then what good did you just do?"
Dean wanted to snap back a reply, but a slight shake of his brother's head made him shake his own head and look away.
“We’ve ruled something out,” offered Sam.
"So what now?" Skylar asked, looking at the adults in the room, waiting for an answer.
"We don't know yet, but we're going to find out." Dean shared another look with Sam, coming into an unspoken agreement. They needed to get the family out of there.
"We think you should stay at a hotel, maybe, just for the night, while we try to sort things out here." Sam suggested, his voice coaxing.
George sighed loudly, frustrated. Skylar and Trinity just stayed silent, letting their father make the decision.
"Can't we finish this tomorrow night?" The eldest Frances glared at the brothers, his voice harsh.
Sam shook his head. "I don't think it's a good idea to just leave it like this, George. There's been no reaction so far, no retaliation, and I would rather investigate before the rest of you are endangered."
"Dad, let's just go. We can stay in the same hotel as Annie and Lela and Brian, and leave them to do their job. They can't do it if they're worrying about us half the time." Trinity was the sensible one, Dean decided, a complete contrast to her father, and he appreciated her ability to make her father see sense in the matter.
George sent her a half-smile, and Dean sighed in relief.
"Sam, go with them while they pack their things. I'll do a round outside the house, and we'll meet back here in half an hour." He wanted to capitalize on the time they had, and once the family was safely off the property then he and Sam could concentrate on searching the house or even the property, if they had the time.
Sam nodded his head, turned around, slung his rifle across his shoulders and gently ushered them to the directions of their rooms, not meeting any resistance. For a second, Dean marveled at his younger brother's ability to get people to do what he wanted them to do without resorting to threats or charms. For another second he felt absolute relief that even after all these years and all the hard knocks that they'd received, that skill still stayed with him.
Shaking his mind off of the nostalgia, the things he’d wished for Sam, he picked up his own weapon and proceeded to walk clockwise around the main house itself. Nothing seemed off and it was quiet. As he passed the garage at the back of the house he peeked inside to make sure his baby was safe and sound, and decided since he was there, he might as well take the shortcut to their room to pick up the journal, so they could have a head start on trying to find out what this thing was.
Ten minutes later and Dean was in the room, striding towards the desk where Sam said he tossed the journal earlier in the afternoon. But it wasn't there. Puzzled, he looked around the room, under the covers and inside the duffel bags, but the journal wasn't anywhere near.
Maybe Sam left it in the car when he was making those bags.
He exited the room, intent on going back to the garage, but when he glanced in the other room, he then did a double take. There was a gleam of eyes peering over the far side of the bed. A second, more focused visual search yielded nothing. The little light was gone.
Should I go see, or should I wait for Sam?
Reaching a compromise, he shuffled nearer to the doorway of the second room while fishing his cell phone out of his pocket. He pressed 1 followed by the dial button, never taking his eyes off the room, and after three rings Sam picked up.
"Dean, what is it?"
"You better get back to our room pronto. I saw something in the other room, and I think that could be it." Another gleam, and Dean squinted, staring hard, but seeing nothing else. That damn thing was playing peek-a-boo with him.
"Alright, stay put. Don't go in by yourself."
Dean made a face, but didn't protest. "Yes, mom. Just hurry." He ended the call, and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He took several tiny steps closer to the door of the room. The windows were closed, and the lights weren't switched on, so it was pitch black in there. He could see outlines of the bed and the desk and the other furniture, but nothing else was discernible. He let his eyes sweep the entire darkened room, but there wasn't a spot different from the others, although Dean couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.
Making up his mind, he stopped right at the edge, toeing the invisible line that separated the hallway from the room, and reached out to flick on the lights inside the room, He'd planned to brighten up the room, and then wait for Sam. It was a good plan, a safe plan, and it would save them time.
Evidently, whatever was in the room didn't get the memo, as soon as he felt his fingers touch the switch, he felt a grip on his wrist, and an unexpected pull sent him flying head-first into the room. He landed hard on the floor, the carpet underneath barely cushioning his fall. He twisted his torso to face the door, which slammed shut with a loud bang.
A high-pitched laugh preceded the bang, and just as Dean felt sharp nails grazing his arm, he thought he heard Sam's voice from the other side of the door.
"Dean!"
Super.
"Dean!"
Sam was at the end of the corridor when he saw his brother being yanked into the room. He started sprinting towards him, but was too late to stop the door from closing right in his face and locking him out. He shook the knob, but it wouldn't turn. Aggravated, he slapped his right palm on the thick wood door, and yelled his brother's name again.
"Dean!"
There was a noise coming from the room. Sam put his ear to the door, straining to hear. It sounded like female laughter, and the hairs on the back on Sam's neck stood up at the shrillness of it. A wave of panic went through Sam, and belatedly he wondered if they were dealing with a demon, and if the Frances' were in immediate danger.
The laughter sounded again, higher in pitch this time, followed by a shout of pain, and Sam began to feel the first stirrings of terror. He would recognize his brother's voice anywhere, and that didn't sound good.
"Dean, hang on!"
He took a step back and kicked at the door. It groaned, but held. Sam tried again, fear lending him strength. He heard another shout of pain, this time louder and longer. A third kick and the door burst open. He rushed in, and almost tripped himself on top of his brother in his haste, and he saw a ghostly female figure crouching beside Dean, digging her long fingernails into his brother's left arm, slowly stroking his brother's hair with her other arm. Dean was struggling in her embrace, trying in vain to get out of it. Long trails of blood covered his arm, and Sam was pretty sure there was blood in his hair as well.
"Hey!"
The figure swiveled her head towards Sam, and let out a screech that had Sam on his knees, hands covering his ears to protect his eardrums from bursting. He struggled to keep his eyes on her face, looking for some indication of what she would do next. He only glimpsed fangs and bloodshot eyes before he had to turn away as another high-pitched scream assaulted his hearing.
He twisted his head back as soon as he could, but the figure had disappeared, and the cloying smell of decaying flowers permeated the room.
Panting for breath, he crawled towards Dean, who was lying on his back gasping. When he was within reach, he tugged on Dean's shirt sleeves.
"Dean, can you hear me?"
A groan answered him. "Fuck, Sam, that doesn't look like a poltergeist to me." Dean clutched his injured arm. "What the hell was that?"
"We'll figure it out later. Let's get out of here. Can you stand?" asked Sam, with a calmness that belied the fear in his heart.
They clutched each other for balance as they swayed on their feet. Stumbling, they made their way out as fast as they could in case the creature came back. As they stepped out of the room, they heard footsteps running towards them, and a moment later George appeared at the end of the hallway. The children rounded the corner a few seconds after.
"Good Lord, what happened?"
"Just had a little meeting with Casper. Very friendly. And handsy too, literally." Dean gritted his teeth as he spoke, but Sam was relieved, because if he could still joke, it meant that the pain was still in the manageable level.
"Should we call for a doctor? Take you to ER?" Trinity's voice was soft, and Sam could hear the fear beneath it. He gave the girl a reassuring smile even as he helped his brother to the other room. "No need for a doctor. We can take care of this ourselves."
The first aid kit had been stocked up a few days ago, and Dean had the foresight to bring the kit to their rooms. They were lucky in that respect.
Of course, if they had been really lucky, this shouldn't have happened at all.
Sam gently helped Dean sit on the bed, and busied himself preparing bandages and antiseptic - he held the holy water, not knowing if the cuts could be infected spiritually - while the three extra people in the room stood there and gaped. Dean examined the bloody gashes, proclaiming that they were superficial, but that Sam should pour holy water on them to err on the cautious side.
Sam, being the good brother he was, poured the holy water straight from the bottle. Dean sucked in a breath and his body went rigid, before he let out a yell.
"Holy-shit-son-of-a-bitch!" Skylar slapped his hand over his mouth, Trinity smothered a giggle, and George glared at the brothers.
Sam gave him the bitchy look, even as he exchanged the holy water for antiseptic cream to apply to the scratches, then began applying gauze to cover them, taping it securely. It was fortunate that the spirit didn't have enough time to get her claws in deeper, because the wounds already looked fiercely red and swollen.
"Did you see it?" Trinity wanted to know.
"Yes, we both saw it." Which was part of the problem. Trinity claimed she couldn't see who or what was attacking her, and if the Winchesters could see her, then they were dealing with two different supernatural beings, which doubled their problem. First things first, they needed to get out of there, along with them. Dean was hurt, and they needed to regroup and reassess what they were dealing with.
"Alright, I think all of us should get out of here. George, do you guys have everything?" Sam asked even as he tossed some clothes into one of the duffels and made a quick trip to the bathroom to swipe their toiletries into the bag. When he got out of the bathroom Dean had shrugged into his leather jacket and was tossing the shotguns into the other duffel.
"Yes, we chucked the bags by the front door before we came here. The car's already in the front."
"Okay, well, you go ahead to the front, we'll go to the garage to take the car, and we'll follow you."
George nodded. "You'll bunk in with Brian at the hotel, he won't mind. There's no other hotel within fifty miles, and we got the last of the rooms in that hotel."
The Winchester brothers traded looks, and then Dean shrugged. "Well, as long as someone else's footing the bill..."
"Okay, well, see you in the front in about ten minutes." And then George ushered his children out of the room.
Left alone, Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother. Dean raised a corresponding one, and both of them stepped out of the room.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Sam led the way, wary of a surprise ambush.
“Won’t argue with you there. We can come back in the morning to see what we’ve missed. Do you think we should take another look at the room before we go off?”
“No.” Sometimes it was as though Dean didn’t know when to retreat. “Just, leave it, and we’ll see if we can pick up some clues tomorrow morning.”
“Fine, whatever. I’ll drive.” Sam nodded, agreeing to everything as long as they could just get the hell out of there. Sam lifted the keys from Dean's jacket pocket and jiggled them in front of his brother. Dean scowled but didn't say anything.
Damn his instincts. It had been too easy.
Both brothers managed to snatch a few hours of sleep in the hotel room that night, before waking up in the wee hours of the morning and starting their research. Dean had a moment of disorientation, his mind still trapped in the room back at the house with whatever it was, before his brain began to work and he recognized the surroundings as the hotel room that they had bunked in with Brian, George’s groundskeeper.
Brian was initially wary when George told him that he would be sharing his room with the brothers. Dean noticed him watching them as they entered and parked themselves on the couch. When George had finished talking, Brian just nodded, consenting, but he didn't look happy about it. Dean guessed he wouldn't be happy either, sharing a room with strangers, but it looked a little more than that to him.
Dean had appreciated the understated elegance of the hotel room even as he compared it to the rooms they had left behind and found it slightly wanting. He assured Brian when they arrived the night before that he was perfectly fine with taking the couch while Sam could stretch out on the carpeted floor beside him. Brian had offered the bed, saying that Dean was injured, but both brothers wanted to have their own space while reviewing the case, and Brian could just stay on his side of the room while the Winchesters took the other side.
The couch was pretty comfy.
Sam had been poring through all the books that they had and visited the usual websites online, trying to find out why an invisible violent spirit had attacked Trinity, while Dean was clawed by what looked like a banshee. Unless there was a mixture of crazy supernatural beings that they were dealing with, which was rare, the boys couldn’t fathom why they were attacked by two completely different creatures.
Sam thought he had found the answer just before George called them on the room phone to tell them they were leaving right after the lunch. He was meeting with a prospective client in the morning at the hotel itself, and would only be ready to leave after that.
It was now three in the afternoon, and all of them were back in the house, having arrived about two hours earlier. They were seated in the lounge again, with all three members of the Frances family present. Annie had left some drinks on the table, along with a couple of plates of finger snacks, but none of them were interested in food at that moment. Sam had found something that might be the answer to the creatures plaguing them, and Dean had rounded up the posse, because George wanted to know - he’s PAYING to know - and the children had the right to.
"We think that it was most likely a sending." Sam explained to his captive audience while he shifted through the stacks of paper he brought along with him. Dean chose to sit beside him, absently scratching the bandages over his left arm.
Why was it always the left arm? Not that I'm complaining, but still.
As with their earlier announcements, there was silence, the three of them processing the information internally. Not surprising, the elder Frances was the first to voice his confusion.
"Wait, so what does it all mean?"
"It means that the spirit that attacked you does not reside here. It didn’t follow you home, and it doesn’t originate from any part of the house. It was sent by someone." Sam sounded like a professor lecturing to a room of students. Dean almost expected his brother to be handing the papers out to them.
Dean took up the explanation when all the Frances still looked clueless.
"Right, for example,” he explained, “a poltergeist will just attach itself to a particular person or a house, until it is destroyed, or forced out. If the spirit is sent, then the source is most likely a witch, or a person who thinks they are, someone who's dabbling in black magic, and we’ve got to find him or her to stop the sending."
“It explains why it was some sort of a poltergeist who’s been attacking you, Trinity, while what we saw yesterday was a banshee. The person doing the sending is able to mould the spirit into any supernatural being he or she wants. Also, he or she is most probably someone that you know, someone that holds a grudge against you, or your family. It must be personal for the sending to work."
“But why did it attack Dean? He’s not part of the family.” Skylar’s voice was small, and trembling.
Sam and Dean looked at each other, and then back at their clients. "Our best guess is that the person knew we were here to stop the attacks, and somehow I angered the person enough to make him or her send the spirit to me yesterday.” Dean didn’t want to elaborate, because he was pretty sure they would connect the dots themselves. And besides, he was pretty livid. He didn’t even know what he did to warrant such an attack.
I must have really pissed him off so bad. Or her.
"Who did you manage to piss off so bad, Dean?" Sam's voice was too even, echoing what was in his mind and cluing him of how wound up his brother was at that thought.
"Why do you think it's always me?" No, Dean wasn't whining at all. It didn't always have to be him who was the agitator.
Sam glared at him, even as his hands shuffled the papers into some semblance of order only he knew. Dean grunted, acquiesced with his brother’s silent accusation.
"Whatever, the point is, I’ve not talked to anyone while we were on the case, unless you count the people in this house." Dean's voice petered out as he let the obvious truth dawn to the family.
"It's someone connected to the house..." Trinity murmured, her eyes getting wide.
"Excuse me?" George widened his eyes.
"Think about it. We have had no contact with anyone else outside of this place. We talked to only to the family and the staff and no one else, so why should Dean be attacked? A sending needs to be personal, the spirit needed to know who they were seeking to attack, or at least have a picture of the person. An outside person wouldn't even know we were in your house, investigating the attacks." Sam stated calmly.
Dean picked up where Sam left off. "We didn’t stop anywhere near before we reached this house. And for the last two days we've not left your home, we've not gone to town to get anything, and we only ventured out last night to the hotel after the attack. Therefore the only suspects available have been present in this house since we arrived."
"The staff? But...but...but that's impossible!" George sputtered.
"Annie have been with us for so long, why would she want to harm me!?" Trinity was distressed by that thought.
"And Brian has always gotten along with us, he treats us like his own children!" Skylar put in his two cents' worth.
“Next thing you’ll be telling us that we are suspects too.” George’s voice rose in challenge.
Dean sighed loudly, and raised his uninjured right arm as a gesture of silence. All three fell silent, their protests dying on their tongues.
“Let me be clear, none of you are suspects, but we do need your help to figure out who the culprit is. At this point, we really don't know who is sending the poltergeist to Trinity, or the banshee, to me. We have to consider every angle, and if it means questioning everyone in the house then that’s what we’ll do. Now, I suggest you people go back to your rooms to rest or go to bed, or whatever. One of us will come get you later." And he stared really hard at each of them, trying to convey the confidence that he was feeling. "We will get to the bottom of the matter."
Another moment of indecision, and then all three members of the family shuffled slowly out to the corridor, feet dragging, each lost in their own thoughts. Sam and Dean stared at their backs until they were out of sight, and then in tandem made their way back to their room, pausing to peer into Trinity’s former bedroom. In the afternoon light, the bedroom held no sinister appearance, even thought there was a small dried spatter of blood marring the pristine look of the room.
“So where do we start?” Dean was itching to get started. He couldn’t wait to confront whoever it was that held a grudge on him, and introduce his fist to the son of a bitch’s face.
"I think we should start by doing background checks on the staff, and then I’ll go talk to them, while you can maybe take a closer look at the neighbor that sold the land because it might just be connected, like you said." Sam announced as they turned to their room.
“I think that you should talk to George and his family again, and ask for a rundown of events that happened just before the attacks occurred. Maybe they’ll be able to shed some light.”
Dean had a feeling he was getting the short end of the stick. "Why don't I just talk to the staff and you talk to the family?"
Sam sighed wearily, like he was reaching the end of his rope. "Because Dean, we don't know who you actually offended badly enough that he or she would send the spirit to you instead of Trinity or George or Skylar. Tell me the truth, what horrible thing did you do to the staff? Flirt shamelessly with Annie and Lela? Insult Brian?"
“Hey, I would never insult someone who’s holding garden shears sharp enough to cut my fingers clean off.” Dean stopped his defensive rant when Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, I did talk a little to Annie and Lela, but I was careful not to disturb their work. And besides, they love me. They think I’m adorable.”
“They’re probably being polite. They wouldn’t be giving you a heads up if they’re planning to slice you up, would they?”
Dean scowled. His brother had a point. He hated it when his brother had a point.
"Fine."
"Fine."
Go forward to PART 4
Dean opened the front door and waved to the three figures standing on the circular patch of grass right in front of the house. They started striding towards him, and he stepped back to let them in. Trinity entered first, followed by her brother, with George bringing up the rear. All three of them had insisted to be present in case of any medical emergency, even when they acquiesced to staying out of the main house.
Uncharitably, Dean thought that George wanted to make sure they wouldn't be running away with his silver or anything more precious. But that might just be him.
After George stepped in, Dean closed the door and faced the family.
"So, is it over?" George was almost bouncing on his heels, eager to put the whole haunting business behind him.
Dean hated to disappoint him. "Unfortunately, we don't think so." He shared a look with his brother. "There weren't any attacks when we placed all the bags in the wall, which is great, but it's also worrying. It might mean that it wasn't a poltergeist that's attacking your daughter."
George's face fell. "So what you did was a waste of time? Then what good did you just do?"
Dean wanted to snap back a reply, but a slight shake of his brother's head made him shake his own head and look away.
“We’ve ruled something out,” offered Sam.
"So what now?" Skylar asked, looking at the adults in the room, waiting for an answer.
"We don't know yet, but we're going to find out." Dean shared another look with Sam, coming into an unspoken agreement. They needed to get the family out of there.
"We think you should stay at a hotel, maybe, just for the night, while we try to sort things out here." Sam suggested, his voice coaxing.
George sighed loudly, frustrated. Skylar and Trinity just stayed silent, letting their father make the decision.
"Can't we finish this tomorrow night?" The eldest Frances glared at the brothers, his voice harsh.
Sam shook his head. "I don't think it's a good idea to just leave it like this, George. There's been no reaction so far, no retaliation, and I would rather investigate before the rest of you are endangered."
"Dad, let's just go. We can stay in the same hotel as Annie and Lela and Brian, and leave them to do their job. They can't do it if they're worrying about us half the time." Trinity was the sensible one, Dean decided, a complete contrast to her father, and he appreciated her ability to make her father see sense in the matter.
George sent her a half-smile, and Dean sighed in relief.
"Sam, go with them while they pack their things. I'll do a round outside the house, and we'll meet back here in half an hour." He wanted to capitalize on the time they had, and once the family was safely off the property then he and Sam could concentrate on searching the house or even the property, if they had the time.
Sam nodded his head, turned around, slung his rifle across his shoulders and gently ushered them to the directions of their rooms, not meeting any resistance. For a second, Dean marveled at his younger brother's ability to get people to do what he wanted them to do without resorting to threats or charms. For another second he felt absolute relief that even after all these years and all the hard knocks that they'd received, that skill still stayed with him.
Shaking his mind off of the nostalgia, the things he’d wished for Sam, he picked up his own weapon and proceeded to walk clockwise around the main house itself. Nothing seemed off and it was quiet. As he passed the garage at the back of the house he peeked inside to make sure his baby was safe and sound, and decided since he was there, he might as well take the shortcut to their room to pick up the journal, so they could have a head start on trying to find out what this thing was.
Ten minutes later and Dean was in the room, striding towards the desk where Sam said he tossed the journal earlier in the afternoon. But it wasn't there. Puzzled, he looked around the room, under the covers and inside the duffel bags, but the journal wasn't anywhere near.
Maybe Sam left it in the car when he was making those bags.
He exited the room, intent on going back to the garage, but when he glanced in the other room, he then did a double take. There was a gleam of eyes peering over the far side of the bed. A second, more focused visual search yielded nothing. The little light was gone.
Should I go see, or should I wait for Sam?
Reaching a compromise, he shuffled nearer to the doorway of the second room while fishing his cell phone out of his pocket. He pressed 1 followed by the dial button, never taking his eyes off the room, and after three rings Sam picked up.
"Dean, what is it?"
"You better get back to our room pronto. I saw something in the other room, and I think that could be it." Another gleam, and Dean squinted, staring hard, but seeing nothing else. That damn thing was playing peek-a-boo with him.
"Alright, stay put. Don't go in by yourself."
Dean made a face, but didn't protest. "Yes, mom. Just hurry." He ended the call, and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He took several tiny steps closer to the door of the room. The windows were closed, and the lights weren't switched on, so it was pitch black in there. He could see outlines of the bed and the desk and the other furniture, but nothing else was discernible. He let his eyes sweep the entire darkened room, but there wasn't a spot different from the others, although Dean couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.
Making up his mind, he stopped right at the edge, toeing the invisible line that separated the hallway from the room, and reached out to flick on the lights inside the room, He'd planned to brighten up the room, and then wait for Sam. It was a good plan, a safe plan, and it would save them time.
Evidently, whatever was in the room didn't get the memo, as soon as he felt his fingers touch the switch, he felt a grip on his wrist, and an unexpected pull sent him flying head-first into the room. He landed hard on the floor, the carpet underneath barely cushioning his fall. He twisted his torso to face the door, which slammed shut with a loud bang.
A high-pitched laugh preceded the bang, and just as Dean felt sharp nails grazing his arm, he thought he heard Sam's voice from the other side of the door.
"Dean!"
Super.
"Dean!"
Sam was at the end of the corridor when he saw his brother being yanked into the room. He started sprinting towards him, but was too late to stop the door from closing right in his face and locking him out. He shook the knob, but it wouldn't turn. Aggravated, he slapped his right palm on the thick wood door, and yelled his brother's name again.
"Dean!"
There was a noise coming from the room. Sam put his ear to the door, straining to hear. It sounded like female laughter, and the hairs on the back on Sam's neck stood up at the shrillness of it. A wave of panic went through Sam, and belatedly he wondered if they were dealing with a demon, and if the Frances' were in immediate danger.
The laughter sounded again, higher in pitch this time, followed by a shout of pain, and Sam began to feel the first stirrings of terror. He would recognize his brother's voice anywhere, and that didn't sound good.
"Dean, hang on!"
He took a step back and kicked at the door. It groaned, but held. Sam tried again, fear lending him strength. He heard another shout of pain, this time louder and longer. A third kick and the door burst open. He rushed in, and almost tripped himself on top of his brother in his haste, and he saw a ghostly female figure crouching beside Dean, digging her long fingernails into his brother's left arm, slowly stroking his brother's hair with her other arm. Dean was struggling in her embrace, trying in vain to get out of it. Long trails of blood covered his arm, and Sam was pretty sure there was blood in his hair as well.
"Hey!"
The figure swiveled her head towards Sam, and let out a screech that had Sam on his knees, hands covering his ears to protect his eardrums from bursting. He struggled to keep his eyes on her face, looking for some indication of what she would do next. He only glimpsed fangs and bloodshot eyes before he had to turn away as another high-pitched scream assaulted his hearing.
He twisted his head back as soon as he could, but the figure had disappeared, and the cloying smell of decaying flowers permeated the room.
Panting for breath, he crawled towards Dean, who was lying on his back gasping. When he was within reach, he tugged on Dean's shirt sleeves.
"Dean, can you hear me?"
A groan answered him. "Fuck, Sam, that doesn't look like a poltergeist to me." Dean clutched his injured arm. "What the hell was that?"
"We'll figure it out later. Let's get out of here. Can you stand?" asked Sam, with a calmness that belied the fear in his heart.
They clutched each other for balance as they swayed on their feet. Stumbling, they made their way out as fast as they could in case the creature came back. As they stepped out of the room, they heard footsteps running towards them, and a moment later George appeared at the end of the hallway. The children rounded the corner a few seconds after.
"Good Lord, what happened?"
"Just had a little meeting with Casper. Very friendly. And handsy too, literally." Dean gritted his teeth as he spoke, but Sam was relieved, because if he could still joke, it meant that the pain was still in the manageable level.
"Should we call for a doctor? Take you to ER?" Trinity's voice was soft, and Sam could hear the fear beneath it. He gave the girl a reassuring smile even as he helped his brother to the other room. "No need for a doctor. We can take care of this ourselves."
The first aid kit had been stocked up a few days ago, and Dean had the foresight to bring the kit to their rooms. They were lucky in that respect.
Of course, if they had been really lucky, this shouldn't have happened at all.
Sam gently helped Dean sit on the bed, and busied himself preparing bandages and antiseptic - he held the holy water, not knowing if the cuts could be infected spiritually - while the three extra people in the room stood there and gaped. Dean examined the bloody gashes, proclaiming that they were superficial, but that Sam should pour holy water on them to err on the cautious side.
Sam, being the good brother he was, poured the holy water straight from the bottle. Dean sucked in a breath and his body went rigid, before he let out a yell.
"Holy-shit-son-of-a-bitch!" Skylar slapped his hand over his mouth, Trinity smothered a giggle, and George glared at the brothers.
Sam gave him the bitchy look, even as he exchanged the holy water for antiseptic cream to apply to the scratches, then began applying gauze to cover them, taping it securely. It was fortunate that the spirit didn't have enough time to get her claws in deeper, because the wounds already looked fiercely red and swollen.
"Did you see it?" Trinity wanted to know.
"Yes, we both saw it." Which was part of the problem. Trinity claimed she couldn't see who or what was attacking her, and if the Winchesters could see her, then they were dealing with two different supernatural beings, which doubled their problem. First things first, they needed to get out of there, along with them. Dean was hurt, and they needed to regroup and reassess what they were dealing with.
"Alright, I think all of us should get out of here. George, do you guys have everything?" Sam asked even as he tossed some clothes into one of the duffels and made a quick trip to the bathroom to swipe their toiletries into the bag. When he got out of the bathroom Dean had shrugged into his leather jacket and was tossing the shotguns into the other duffel.
"Yes, we chucked the bags by the front door before we came here. The car's already in the front."
"Okay, well, you go ahead to the front, we'll go to the garage to take the car, and we'll follow you."
George nodded. "You'll bunk in with Brian at the hotel, he won't mind. There's no other hotel within fifty miles, and we got the last of the rooms in that hotel."
The Winchester brothers traded looks, and then Dean shrugged. "Well, as long as someone else's footing the bill..."
"Okay, well, see you in the front in about ten minutes." And then George ushered his children out of the room.
Left alone, Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother. Dean raised a corresponding one, and both of them stepped out of the room.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Sam led the way, wary of a surprise ambush.
“Won’t argue with you there. We can come back in the morning to see what we’ve missed. Do you think we should take another look at the room before we go off?”
“No.” Sometimes it was as though Dean didn’t know when to retreat. “Just, leave it, and we’ll see if we can pick up some clues tomorrow morning.”
“Fine, whatever. I’ll drive.” Sam nodded, agreeing to everything as long as they could just get the hell out of there. Sam lifted the keys from Dean's jacket pocket and jiggled them in front of his brother. Dean scowled but didn't say anything.
Damn his instincts. It had been too easy.
Both brothers managed to snatch a few hours of sleep in the hotel room that night, before waking up in the wee hours of the morning and starting their research. Dean had a moment of disorientation, his mind still trapped in the room back at the house with whatever it was, before his brain began to work and he recognized the surroundings as the hotel room that they had bunked in with Brian, George’s groundskeeper.
Brian was initially wary when George told him that he would be sharing his room with the brothers. Dean noticed him watching them as they entered and parked themselves on the couch. When George had finished talking, Brian just nodded, consenting, but he didn't look happy about it. Dean guessed he wouldn't be happy either, sharing a room with strangers, but it looked a little more than that to him.
Dean had appreciated the understated elegance of the hotel room even as he compared it to the rooms they had left behind and found it slightly wanting. He assured Brian when they arrived the night before that he was perfectly fine with taking the couch while Sam could stretch out on the carpeted floor beside him. Brian had offered the bed, saying that Dean was injured, but both brothers wanted to have their own space while reviewing the case, and Brian could just stay on his side of the room while the Winchesters took the other side.
The couch was pretty comfy.
Sam had been poring through all the books that they had and visited the usual websites online, trying to find out why an invisible violent spirit had attacked Trinity, while Dean was clawed by what looked like a banshee. Unless there was a mixture of crazy supernatural beings that they were dealing with, which was rare, the boys couldn’t fathom why they were attacked by two completely different creatures.
Sam thought he had found the answer just before George called them on the room phone to tell them they were leaving right after the lunch. He was meeting with a prospective client in the morning at the hotel itself, and would only be ready to leave after that.
It was now three in the afternoon, and all of them were back in the house, having arrived about two hours earlier. They were seated in the lounge again, with all three members of the Frances family present. Annie had left some drinks on the table, along with a couple of plates of finger snacks, but none of them were interested in food at that moment. Sam had found something that might be the answer to the creatures plaguing them, and Dean had rounded up the posse, because George wanted to know - he’s PAYING to know - and the children had the right to.
"We think that it was most likely a sending." Sam explained to his captive audience while he shifted through the stacks of paper he brought along with him. Dean chose to sit beside him, absently scratching the bandages over his left arm.
Why was it always the left arm? Not that I'm complaining, but still.
As with their earlier announcements, there was silence, the three of them processing the information internally. Not surprising, the elder Frances was the first to voice his confusion.
"Wait, so what does it all mean?"
"It means that the spirit that attacked you does not reside here. It didn’t follow you home, and it doesn’t originate from any part of the house. It was sent by someone." Sam sounded like a professor lecturing to a room of students. Dean almost expected his brother to be handing the papers out to them.
Dean took up the explanation when all the Frances still looked clueless.
"Right, for example,” he explained, “a poltergeist will just attach itself to a particular person or a house, until it is destroyed, or forced out. If the spirit is sent, then the source is most likely a witch, or a person who thinks they are, someone who's dabbling in black magic, and we’ve got to find him or her to stop the sending."
“It explains why it was some sort of a poltergeist who’s been attacking you, Trinity, while what we saw yesterday was a banshee. The person doing the sending is able to mould the spirit into any supernatural being he or she wants. Also, he or she is most probably someone that you know, someone that holds a grudge against you, or your family. It must be personal for the sending to work."
“But why did it attack Dean? He’s not part of the family.” Skylar’s voice was small, and trembling.
Sam and Dean looked at each other, and then back at their clients. "Our best guess is that the person knew we were here to stop the attacks, and somehow I angered the person enough to make him or her send the spirit to me yesterday.” Dean didn’t want to elaborate, because he was pretty sure they would connect the dots themselves. And besides, he was pretty livid. He didn’t even know what he did to warrant such an attack.
I must have really pissed him off so bad. Or her.
"Who did you manage to piss off so bad, Dean?" Sam's voice was too even, echoing what was in his mind and cluing him of how wound up his brother was at that thought.
"Why do you think it's always me?" No, Dean wasn't whining at all. It didn't always have to be him who was the agitator.
Sam glared at him, even as his hands shuffled the papers into some semblance of order only he knew. Dean grunted, acquiesced with his brother’s silent accusation.
"Whatever, the point is, I’ve not talked to anyone while we were on the case, unless you count the people in this house." Dean's voice petered out as he let the obvious truth dawn to the family.
"It's someone connected to the house..." Trinity murmured, her eyes getting wide.
"Excuse me?" George widened his eyes.
"Think about it. We have had no contact with anyone else outside of this place. We talked to only to the family and the staff and no one else, so why should Dean be attacked? A sending needs to be personal, the spirit needed to know who they were seeking to attack, or at least have a picture of the person. An outside person wouldn't even know we were in your house, investigating the attacks." Sam stated calmly.
Dean picked up where Sam left off. "We didn’t stop anywhere near before we reached this house. And for the last two days we've not left your home, we've not gone to town to get anything, and we only ventured out last night to the hotel after the attack. Therefore the only suspects available have been present in this house since we arrived."
"The staff? But...but...but that's impossible!" George sputtered.
"Annie have been with us for so long, why would she want to harm me!?" Trinity was distressed by that thought.
"And Brian has always gotten along with us, he treats us like his own children!" Skylar put in his two cents' worth.
“Next thing you’ll be telling us that we are suspects too.” George’s voice rose in challenge.
Dean sighed loudly, and raised his uninjured right arm as a gesture of silence. All three fell silent, their protests dying on their tongues.
“Let me be clear, none of you are suspects, but we do need your help to figure out who the culprit is. At this point, we really don't know who is sending the poltergeist to Trinity, or the banshee, to me. We have to consider every angle, and if it means questioning everyone in the house then that’s what we’ll do. Now, I suggest you people go back to your rooms to rest or go to bed, or whatever. One of us will come get you later." And he stared really hard at each of them, trying to convey the confidence that he was feeling. "We will get to the bottom of the matter."
Another moment of indecision, and then all three members of the family shuffled slowly out to the corridor, feet dragging, each lost in their own thoughts. Sam and Dean stared at their backs until they were out of sight, and then in tandem made their way back to their room, pausing to peer into Trinity’s former bedroom. In the afternoon light, the bedroom held no sinister appearance, even thought there was a small dried spatter of blood marring the pristine look of the room.
“So where do we start?” Dean was itching to get started. He couldn’t wait to confront whoever it was that held a grudge on him, and introduce his fist to the son of a bitch’s face.
"I think we should start by doing background checks on the staff, and then I’ll go talk to them, while you can maybe take a closer look at the neighbor that sold the land because it might just be connected, like you said." Sam announced as they turned to their room.
“I think that you should talk to George and his family again, and ask for a rundown of events that happened just before the attacks occurred. Maybe they’ll be able to shed some light.”
Dean had a feeling he was getting the short end of the stick. "Why don't I just talk to the staff and you talk to the family?"
Sam sighed wearily, like he was reaching the end of his rope. "Because Dean, we don't know who you actually offended badly enough that he or she would send the spirit to you instead of Trinity or George or Skylar. Tell me the truth, what horrible thing did you do to the staff? Flirt shamelessly with Annie and Lela? Insult Brian?"
“Hey, I would never insult someone who’s holding garden shears sharp enough to cut my fingers clean off.” Dean stopped his defensive rant when Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, I did talk a little to Annie and Lela, but I was careful not to disturb their work. And besides, they love me. They think I’m adorable.”
“They’re probably being polite. They wouldn’t be giving you a heads up if they’re planning to slice you up, would they?”
Dean scowled. His brother had a point. He hated it when his brother had a point.
"Fine."
"Fine."
Go forward to PART 4