An Old School Haunted House - August 13th
Twisted Shorts August Fic-a-Day Challenge - Day 13
Title: An Old School Haunted House
Author: hermione2be
Rating: PG/FR13/K+
Crossover: BtVS/Supernatural
Disclaimer: I do not own any of BtVS/Angel or Supernatural people, places, or ideas. This fiction is done simply for pleasure and I receive no profit.
Summary: Willow has extremely mixed feelings about the work her family does.
Notes: Part 8 of “A Redhead in the Impala” - Links Page
Seasons: Post-Series/Season 2
Word Count: 2575
November 6th 2006 was the day Willow decided she hated what her family did. She always got a call after twenty-four hours even though they had three days, it was a sort of…ritual. Someone would call her approximately twenty-four hours after they left the motel.
Most of the time it was just to check-in. They would say they were almost done, they had hit a dead end, or something had popped up. They would make sure that she had eaten, hadn’t been bothered, and that she knew what to do or even resetting the clock if they thought it would take extra time.
There was none of that thirty-six hours after they had walked out.
They all liked to pretend that she had no idea what they did. It was safer that way. But she knew. They were liars, they used the lies to look into things that were weird. She knew they tried to protect her from the worst of it. That didn’t mean that murder, beheading, haunting, and death weren’t part of the daily vocabulary over breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sam tried more to redirect to topics that weren’t so gory. Dean had to remind himself, but often let his mouth runaway with him.
But they also tried to do normal things between jobs. Dean found parks or trails that she could runaround on. Sam indulged her curiosity, finding an old bookstore or a museum. He had even made sure she had a curriculum so she was at the same level as other kids. And when she blew through kindergarten, he had moved right on to first grade. She was a great reader, but writing was holding her up.
There were some truths in her life that stabilized her existence. Dean was her dad and mostly was the fun one, but quick to anger when something was wrong. Sam was more cautious, more anxious, but quiet and determined. And at the end of the job, they both always came back.
She checked her phone again. Nothing.
88888888
Detective Diana Ballard stared at the body of her dead partner. A murderer.
Sam and Dean waited for her to approach them. Technically, they should have still been under arrest.
“You all right?” Sam asked.
“Not really,” Ballard admitted. “The death omen, Claire… What happens to her now?”
“Should be over. She should be at rest.”
“So, uh, what now, officer?” Dean asked.
“It should be pretty easy to get your cases dismissed.” She glanced at the body again. “Everything he did and confessed…”
“You’d take care of that for us?” Sam said in relief.
“I hope so. But the St. Louis murder charges? That’s another story. I can’t help you with those.” Ballard considered them. “Unless…I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.”
“Wait, are you sure?”
“Yeah, she’s sure, Sam,” Dean said with a touch of exasperation.
“Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I’ll sleep better at night.” She sighed. “Listen, you need to watch your back, especially with your niece - your daughter - kids not being in school raises flags. They’re going to be looking for you, both of you.”
“What about her?” Dean asked.
“There is a record of a birth certificate, but nothing current. And what I do know, won’t end up in a report.” She looked between them. “Get out of here. I gotta radio this in.”
“Hey, uh, you wouldn’t happen to know where my car is, by chance?”
“Impound yard down on Robertson… Don’t even think about it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said, “we’ll improvise.”
They reached the road. “Willow or Impala?” Dean asked.
“You good going for the Impala and I’ll get Willow and meet you at the theater behind the motel?”
He nodded. “See you in a bit.”
88888888
Willow was watching the clock when there was a knock at the door. She froze.
Knock. Knock. Kick! Knock. Knock…knock.
She jumped up, heart hammering and ran to the door. She unlocked it and pulled it open.
Sam grinned down at her.
Willow burst into relieved tears.
Sam picked her up and kicked the door closed. He looked around the room. There was only two or three things to put away, it looked like Willow had packed and dragged the bags next to the door.
“It’s okay,” he told her as he used one hand to pick up the rest of the items and tossed them into the closest bag.
“You didn’t call,” she sniffled.
“I know. We were in police custody,” he replied absently.
Willow pulled back to look at him, a serious expression on her little face. “Where’s Daddy?”
“He’s getting the car. We’re meeting him soon.”
She nodded and wiggled down. She grabbed her things and put them in her bag, checking that she had her chargers and phone. “Bathroom,” she told him.
Sam nodded and crossed the room, grabbing the shaving kits and toothbrushes off the counter. “Anything else?”
Willow shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
88888888
December 10th 2006
Dean was not in a celebratory mood, neither was Sam. They had found out that Gordon Walker was on the trail of several children like Sam, whose mothers had died in house fires when the children were exactly six months old. They had found all the ones Ash had been able to source for them were dead, killed by Gordon.
With a well-timed call by Willow to the police, they had gotten Gordon jailed for his arsenal of weapons.
But today wasn’t about last week’s problems or tomorrow’s. It was Willow’s birthday.
“Well?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know.” She considered them. “Can we go to the park and have ice cream after dinner?”
“Easy enough,” Dean told her.
And that’s just what they did. Willow ran the boys ragged in a little park no one was at. Most people had abandoned the thought of playing outside in such cold weather. Willow was more than happy to be alone with her dad and uncle. More than anything, she liked hearing them laugh - at her and at the other’s antics.
When their hands, ears, and noses were icy cold and Willow’s cheeks bright red, they retreated to the Impala. Willow chose a nearby pancake place. She ordered hot chocolate and chocolate pancakes for a late lunch.
“Happy birthday, Willow,” Sam said, pulling a box from his pocket. It was small, no bigger than a pack of gum.
Excited, Willow pulled it to her and lifted the lid. It was a charm, one she didn’t have.
“It’s a Triquetra,” Sam explained. “It’s Celtic. In 500 BCE it represented the Goddess’s triple form - the Maiden, Mother, and Crone. A tradition that was altered by the Church to represent the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
She smiled and touched her necklace. “Can you put it on?”
Sam clipped it on to the old links.
“Nerd,” Dean coughed unconvincingly. He dodged a slap Sam aimed for his arm. Then he pointed to the Impala. “Your present is in the trunk.”
As was his practical nature, Dean had gotten her a blanket for the Impala. He knew how cold the backseat could get. It was a deep red on one side and black on the other.
Willow thought it was an awesome birthday.
88888888
“Are we sure about this?” Dean asked.
“This entire area is shutting down. And if we’re going to stay onsite to investigate…”
Dean agreed, but that didn’t mean he was okay with it. Except for having her wait for them or the one incident of calling the police, they did not involve Willow in the Hunts. However, the Pierpoint Inn was obviously in some trouble. There had been two deaths in three weeks.
The area was covered in mist, lending a creepy feel before they even entered the inn. Willow followed them out of the car. She had her bag with her. She looked around, it was like no place they had ever stayed.
“Old school haunted house, you know?” Dean said. “Fog, and secret passageways…sissy British accents. Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we’re inside.” He closed his eyes a moment. “Mmm, Daphne. Love her.”
“Does Willow even know who the Scooby Gang is?” Sam asked.
Willow’s mind flashed to a library. “I think so,” she answered.
“Hey,” Sam said, looking at an urn on the side of the porch, “wait a sec. I’m not so sure haunted is the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“See this pattern? It’s a quincunx, that’s a five-spot.”
“As in used for hoodoo spellwork?”
“Right. You fill this thing with bloodweed and you’ve got a powerful charm to ward off enemies,” Sam said.
“Yeah, except I don’t see any bloodweed,” Dean said. “Don’t you think this place is a little out of normal hoodoo territory?”
“Maybe they ran out,” Willow said, “that’s why they’re having problems.”
Sam and Dean exchanged a look.
“From the mouth of babes,” Dean suggested.
The inside of the inn was beautiful.
“May I help you?” a woman said, sounding harried.
“Hi, yeah,” Dean said with a smile, “I’d like a room for a couple of nights.”
A girl with dirty blonde hair ran by in front of Sam and Willow with a laugh.
“Hey!” the woman shouted. She shot Sam an apologetic look. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem,” Sam said as Willow moved around to stand next to him, watching the girl skid down the hall.
“Well, um, congratulations, you could be some of our final guests.”
“Well. Sounds vaguely ominous,” Dean told her.
“No. I’m sorry. I’m Susan. And what I meant was, we’re closing at the end of the month.” She looked them over. “Well, let me guess. You guys are here antiquing?”
Sam and Dean exchanged a look. “How’d you know?”
“Oh,” Susan said with a smile, “you just look the type.” She waved them over to the check-in counter. “So a king-sized bed?”
“What?” Sam barked in surprise. “No, uh, no, we’re, we’re…two singles. We’re just brothers.”
“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry,” Susan said.
Willow didn’t know what was going on but the looks on the adults’ faces made her giggle.
Dean pointed. “My daughter - I had with a woman.”
88888888
“All right,” said Sam as he went over the victim profiles. “Victim number one: Joan Edison, forty-three years old, a relator handling the sale of the inn. And victim number two was Larry Williams, moving some stuff out to Goodwill.”
“Well, there’s a connection: they’re both tied up in shutting this place down.”
“Yeah. Maybe somebody here doesn’t want to leave, and they’re using hoodoo to fight back.”
Willow frowned. “No. They were out of bloodweed.”
“It suggests they want to control something,” Dean told her. “They may have let it in to stop the sale.” He looked at Sam. “Susan or Sherwin?”
“I don’t know,” he replied.
“Of course, the most troubling question is why do these people assume we’re gay?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being gay!” Willow snapped, surprising them and herself.
“No,” Sam agreed, “there’s nothing wrong with being gay. Dean just always gets a little prickly when someone thinks our relationship is anything other than brothers.”
She nodded, going back to her book. She didn’t see the look that Sam and Dean exchanged.
88888888
Willow stared at the body hanging in the library without really being disturbed by it. Her focus was on the mechanics of how the suit-guy had hanged himself.
“Willow,” Dean said, “what are you doing?”
“I heard the maid screaming,” she replied. “She found him like this.”
“You shouldn’t be in here,” he told her. “Come on.”
They went upstairs to their room. Sam was on the computer. “What’s up?”
“I’m going to find out. Talk to her, she saw a dead body,” Dean told Sam before retreating out the door as the sound of police arriving came from downstairs. Deciding it was safer to explore the grounds, he made his way down a set of servant stairs and out into the side yard.
“What did you see, Willow?” Sam asked.
“A man hung himself in the library. But I couldn’t understand how he did it.”
“You mean why?”
“No, how. The fan can’t hold that much weight, much less turn with a body hanging from it.”
Sam opened and closed his mouth. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “It didn’t scare you?”
She shook her head. “Grandpa was scarier, because I knew him.”
He nodded. “Okay. If you find something dead, come tell us.”
“Okay.”
88888888
Sam and Dean kept Susan upright as they guided her to a table. She was shaken from nearly being run over by a car.
Willow followed. They had left the inn hours ago after Sam and Dean had been caught somewhere they shouldn’t have been. They had waited in the car, keeping an eye on the place, hoping to prevent another accident.
“What the hell happened out there?” Susan demanded.
“You want the truth?” Dean asked.
“Of course,” she snapped.
“Well, at first we thought it was some sort of hoodoo curse, but that out there? That was definitely a spirit.”
“Here,” Sam handed Susan a glass of whiskey.
“You’re insane,” she told them.
“Yeah, it’s been said,” Dean quipped.
“Look,” Sam cut in. “I’m sorry, Susan. We don’t exactly have time to ease you into this, but we need to know when your mother had the stroke.”
“What does that have to do with an-” Susan started.
“Just answer the question,” Sam told her.
“About a month ago.
“Right before the first killings began,” Sam said. “Willow was right, there wasn’t any bloodweed.”
“In the front urns?” Sarah said. “It was one of the first things the relator had pulled to try and sell the place. Now it’s just getting bulldozed.”
“The fact is your family is in danger, all right? So you need to clear everybody out of here: your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone.”
“Um, I only have one daughter.”
“One?”
“I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie,” Dean said slowly.
“Maggie’s imaginary,” Susan explained with a quick gulp of whiskey.
“Where’s Tyler?” Sam said in alarm.
They raced up to find the playroom empty. Susan recounting that Margaret - her mother’s sister died in the pool on the very grounds. They raced across the grounds to the pool house.
“Can Tyler swim?” Dean asked.
“No,” Susan said with a fearful whine.
“First thing this summer, Willow, swimming lessons.”
They reached the door. But it was locked.
They saw Tyler fall from a balcony into the pool. Dean and Susan ran to try the other door. Sam kept trying to break it down.
Willow put her hands around the lock when he stepped back. She didn’t know what it was that passed through her, but it worked and the door sprang open.
Sam ran past her. Willow sat down in the doorway, drained, and watched as he dove into the pool. He came up a moment later with Tyler and got her to the edge of the pool, she was still breathing.
Willow sighed in relief and sagged sideways in exhaustion.
January 24th 2007 - That was the day Willow learned two things: one, the job she had hated her family doing saved lives; and two, she had some kind of magic.
Title: An Old School Haunted House
Author: hermione2be
Rating: PG/FR13/K+
Crossover: BtVS/Supernatural
Disclaimer: I do not own any of BtVS/Angel or Supernatural people, places, or ideas. This fiction is done simply for pleasure and I receive no profit.
Summary: Willow has extremely mixed feelings about the work her family does.
Notes: Part 8 of “A Redhead in the Impala” - Links Page
Seasons: Post-Series/Season 2
Word Count: 2575
November 6th 2006 was the day Willow decided she hated what her family did. She always got a call after twenty-four hours even though they had three days, it was a sort of…ritual. Someone would call her approximately twenty-four hours after they left the motel.
Most of the time it was just to check-in. They would say they were almost done, they had hit a dead end, or something had popped up. They would make sure that she had eaten, hadn’t been bothered, and that she knew what to do or even resetting the clock if they thought it would take extra time.
There was none of that thirty-six hours after they had walked out.
They all liked to pretend that she had no idea what they did. It was safer that way. But she knew. They were liars, they used the lies to look into things that were weird. She knew they tried to protect her from the worst of it. That didn’t mean that murder, beheading, haunting, and death weren’t part of the daily vocabulary over breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sam tried more to redirect to topics that weren’t so gory. Dean had to remind himself, but often let his mouth runaway with him.
But they also tried to do normal things between jobs. Dean found parks or trails that she could runaround on. Sam indulged her curiosity, finding an old bookstore or a museum. He had even made sure she had a curriculum so she was at the same level as other kids. And when she blew through kindergarten, he had moved right on to first grade. She was a great reader, but writing was holding her up.
There were some truths in her life that stabilized her existence. Dean was her dad and mostly was the fun one, but quick to anger when something was wrong. Sam was more cautious, more anxious, but quiet and determined. And at the end of the job, they both always came back.
She checked her phone again. Nothing.
88888888
Detective Diana Ballard stared at the body of her dead partner. A murderer.
Sam and Dean waited for her to approach them. Technically, they should have still been under arrest.
“You all right?” Sam asked.
“Not really,” Ballard admitted. “The death omen, Claire… What happens to her now?”
“Should be over. She should be at rest.”
“So, uh, what now, officer?” Dean asked.
“It should be pretty easy to get your cases dismissed.” She glanced at the body again. “Everything he did and confessed…”
“You’d take care of that for us?” Sam said in relief.
“I hope so. But the St. Louis murder charges? That’s another story. I can’t help you with those.” Ballard considered them. “Unless…I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.”
“Wait, are you sure?”
“Yeah, she’s sure, Sam,” Dean said with a touch of exasperation.
“Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I’ll sleep better at night.” She sighed. “Listen, you need to watch your back, especially with your niece - your daughter - kids not being in school raises flags. They’re going to be looking for you, both of you.”
“What about her?” Dean asked.
“There is a record of a birth certificate, but nothing current. And what I do know, won’t end up in a report.” She looked between them. “Get out of here. I gotta radio this in.”
“Hey, uh, you wouldn’t happen to know where my car is, by chance?”
“Impound yard down on Robertson… Don’t even think about it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said, “we’ll improvise.”
They reached the road. “Willow or Impala?” Dean asked.
“You good going for the Impala and I’ll get Willow and meet you at the theater behind the motel?”
He nodded. “See you in a bit.”
88888888
Willow was watching the clock when there was a knock at the door. She froze.
Knock. Knock. Kick! Knock. Knock…knock.
She jumped up, heart hammering and ran to the door. She unlocked it and pulled it open.
Sam grinned down at her.
Willow burst into relieved tears.
Sam picked her up and kicked the door closed. He looked around the room. There was only two or three things to put away, it looked like Willow had packed and dragged the bags next to the door.
“It’s okay,” he told her as he used one hand to pick up the rest of the items and tossed them into the closest bag.
“You didn’t call,” she sniffled.
“I know. We were in police custody,” he replied absently.
Willow pulled back to look at him, a serious expression on her little face. “Where’s Daddy?”
“He’s getting the car. We’re meeting him soon.”
She nodded and wiggled down. She grabbed her things and put them in her bag, checking that she had her chargers and phone. “Bathroom,” she told him.
Sam nodded and crossed the room, grabbing the shaving kits and toothbrushes off the counter. “Anything else?”
Willow shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
88888888
December 10th 2006
Dean was not in a celebratory mood, neither was Sam. They had found out that Gordon Walker was on the trail of several children like Sam, whose mothers had died in house fires when the children were exactly six months old. They had found all the ones Ash had been able to source for them were dead, killed by Gordon.
With a well-timed call by Willow to the police, they had gotten Gordon jailed for his arsenal of weapons.
But today wasn’t about last week’s problems or tomorrow’s. It was Willow’s birthday.
“Well?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know.” She considered them. “Can we go to the park and have ice cream after dinner?”
“Easy enough,” Dean told her.
And that’s just what they did. Willow ran the boys ragged in a little park no one was at. Most people had abandoned the thought of playing outside in such cold weather. Willow was more than happy to be alone with her dad and uncle. More than anything, she liked hearing them laugh - at her and at the other’s antics.
When their hands, ears, and noses were icy cold and Willow’s cheeks bright red, they retreated to the Impala. Willow chose a nearby pancake place. She ordered hot chocolate and chocolate pancakes for a late lunch.
“Happy birthday, Willow,” Sam said, pulling a box from his pocket. It was small, no bigger than a pack of gum.
Excited, Willow pulled it to her and lifted the lid. It was a charm, one she didn’t have.
“It’s a Triquetra,” Sam explained. “It’s Celtic. In 500 BCE it represented the Goddess’s triple form - the Maiden, Mother, and Crone. A tradition that was altered by the Church to represent the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
She smiled and touched her necklace. “Can you put it on?”
Sam clipped it on to the old links.
“Nerd,” Dean coughed unconvincingly. He dodged a slap Sam aimed for his arm. Then he pointed to the Impala. “Your present is in the trunk.”
As was his practical nature, Dean had gotten her a blanket for the Impala. He knew how cold the backseat could get. It was a deep red on one side and black on the other.
Willow thought it was an awesome birthday.
88888888
“Are we sure about this?” Dean asked.
“This entire area is shutting down. And if we’re going to stay onsite to investigate…”
Dean agreed, but that didn’t mean he was okay with it. Except for having her wait for them or the one incident of calling the police, they did not involve Willow in the Hunts. However, the Pierpoint Inn was obviously in some trouble. There had been two deaths in three weeks.
The area was covered in mist, lending a creepy feel before they even entered the inn. Willow followed them out of the car. She had her bag with her. She looked around, it was like no place they had ever stayed.
“Old school haunted house, you know?” Dean said. “Fog, and secret passageways…sissy British accents. Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we’re inside.” He closed his eyes a moment. “Mmm, Daphne. Love her.”
“Does Willow even know who the Scooby Gang is?” Sam asked.
Willow’s mind flashed to a library. “I think so,” she answered.
“Hey,” Sam said, looking at an urn on the side of the porch, “wait a sec. I’m not so sure haunted is the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“See this pattern? It’s a quincunx, that’s a five-spot.”
“As in used for hoodoo spellwork?”
“Right. You fill this thing with bloodweed and you’ve got a powerful charm to ward off enemies,” Sam said.
“Yeah, except I don’t see any bloodweed,” Dean said. “Don’t you think this place is a little out of normal hoodoo territory?”
“Maybe they ran out,” Willow said, “that’s why they’re having problems.”
Sam and Dean exchanged a look.
“From the mouth of babes,” Dean suggested.
The inside of the inn was beautiful.
“May I help you?” a woman said, sounding harried.
“Hi, yeah,” Dean said with a smile, “I’d like a room for a couple of nights.”
A girl with dirty blonde hair ran by in front of Sam and Willow with a laugh.
“Hey!” the woman shouted. She shot Sam an apologetic look. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem,” Sam said as Willow moved around to stand next to him, watching the girl skid down the hall.
“Well, um, congratulations, you could be some of our final guests.”
“Well. Sounds vaguely ominous,” Dean told her.
“No. I’m sorry. I’m Susan. And what I meant was, we’re closing at the end of the month.” She looked them over. “Well, let me guess. You guys are here antiquing?”
Sam and Dean exchanged a look. “How’d you know?”
“Oh,” Susan said with a smile, “you just look the type.” She waved them over to the check-in counter. “So a king-sized bed?”
“What?” Sam barked in surprise. “No, uh, no, we’re, we’re…two singles. We’re just brothers.”
“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry,” Susan said.
Willow didn’t know what was going on but the looks on the adults’ faces made her giggle.
Dean pointed. “My daughter - I had with a woman.”
88888888
“All right,” said Sam as he went over the victim profiles. “Victim number one: Joan Edison, forty-three years old, a relator handling the sale of the inn. And victim number two was Larry Williams, moving some stuff out to Goodwill.”
“Well, there’s a connection: they’re both tied up in shutting this place down.”
“Yeah. Maybe somebody here doesn’t want to leave, and they’re using hoodoo to fight back.”
Willow frowned. “No. They were out of bloodweed.”
“It suggests they want to control something,” Dean told her. “They may have let it in to stop the sale.” He looked at Sam. “Susan or Sherwin?”
“I don’t know,” he replied.
“Of course, the most troubling question is why do these people assume we’re gay?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being gay!” Willow snapped, surprising them and herself.
“No,” Sam agreed, “there’s nothing wrong with being gay. Dean just always gets a little prickly when someone thinks our relationship is anything other than brothers.”
She nodded, going back to her book. She didn’t see the look that Sam and Dean exchanged.
88888888
Willow stared at the body hanging in the library without really being disturbed by it. Her focus was on the mechanics of how the suit-guy had hanged himself.
“Willow,” Dean said, “what are you doing?”
“I heard the maid screaming,” she replied. “She found him like this.”
“You shouldn’t be in here,” he told her. “Come on.”
They went upstairs to their room. Sam was on the computer. “What’s up?”
“I’m going to find out. Talk to her, she saw a dead body,” Dean told Sam before retreating out the door as the sound of police arriving came from downstairs. Deciding it was safer to explore the grounds, he made his way down a set of servant stairs and out into the side yard.
“What did you see, Willow?” Sam asked.
“A man hung himself in the library. But I couldn’t understand how he did it.”
“You mean why?”
“No, how. The fan can’t hold that much weight, much less turn with a body hanging from it.”
Sam opened and closed his mouth. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “It didn’t scare you?”
She shook her head. “Grandpa was scarier, because I knew him.”
He nodded. “Okay. If you find something dead, come tell us.”
“Okay.”
88888888
Sam and Dean kept Susan upright as they guided her to a table. She was shaken from nearly being run over by a car.
Willow followed. They had left the inn hours ago after Sam and Dean had been caught somewhere they shouldn’t have been. They had waited in the car, keeping an eye on the place, hoping to prevent another accident.
“What the hell happened out there?” Susan demanded.
“You want the truth?” Dean asked.
“Of course,” she snapped.
“Well, at first we thought it was some sort of hoodoo curse, but that out there? That was definitely a spirit.”
“Here,” Sam handed Susan a glass of whiskey.
“You’re insane,” she told them.
“Yeah, it’s been said,” Dean quipped.
“Look,” Sam cut in. “I’m sorry, Susan. We don’t exactly have time to ease you into this, but we need to know when your mother had the stroke.”
“What does that have to do with an-” Susan started.
“Just answer the question,” Sam told her.
“About a month ago.
“Right before the first killings began,” Sam said. “Willow was right, there wasn’t any bloodweed.”
“In the front urns?” Sarah said. “It was one of the first things the relator had pulled to try and sell the place. Now it’s just getting bulldozed.”
“The fact is your family is in danger, all right? So you need to clear everybody out of here: your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone.”
“Um, I only have one daughter.”
“One?”
“I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie,” Dean said slowly.
“Maggie’s imaginary,” Susan explained with a quick gulp of whiskey.
“Where’s Tyler?” Sam said in alarm.
They raced up to find the playroom empty. Susan recounting that Margaret - her mother’s sister died in the pool on the very grounds. They raced across the grounds to the pool house.
“Can Tyler swim?” Dean asked.
“No,” Susan said with a fearful whine.
“First thing this summer, Willow, swimming lessons.”
They reached the door. But it was locked.
They saw Tyler fall from a balcony into the pool. Dean and Susan ran to try the other door. Sam kept trying to break it down.
Willow put her hands around the lock when he stepped back. She didn’t know what it was that passed through her, but it worked and the door sprang open.
Sam ran past her. Willow sat down in the doorway, drained, and watched as he dove into the pool. He came up a moment later with Tyler and got her to the edge of the pool, she was still breathing.
Willow sighed in relief and sagged sideways in exhaustion.
January 24th 2007 - That was the day Willow learned two things: one, the job she had hated her family doing saved lives; and two, she had some kind of magic.