Archive of Our Own

“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?” 

Dean Winchester stared at his younger brother, Sam, in utter confusion. Sammy had asked him to do some stupid things since both of them could walk, but this, this was taking it too far. 

“Come on, Dean, it’ll be fine,” Sam said.

“Yeah says the guy who doesn’t have to go in the creepy hole,” Dean said as he stared into the sinkhole. The brothers were working a case. They were no closer to finding their father and so they did what they did best, they hunted. When Sam had caught wind of a bunch of missing kids, he had dragged Dean all the way to Lake Mills, Wisconsin to investigate.

Dean was all for saving some kids, hell, he encouraged them to take cases where rugrats went missing, but this was not something he had in mind when Sam said he had a lead at a golf course. 

“Dude, are you forgetting that the last time someone went into a sinkhole, they had their insides liquefied by beetles!” Dean said, reminding his brother of the case they had just worked in Oklahoma.

“This land is curse-free, I promise,” Sam said, shining his flashlight on his brother’s annoyed face. “This sinkhole opened up the night before the first kid went missing and it has only gotten bigger every time another one gets taken.”

“So?”

“So,” Sam said slowly, “it has to be connected.”

“And you want me to go down into the very unstable sinkhole to look for kids because they were taken by what? Mole people?”

“I don’t know what’s doing this yet, but I have a feeling that it will leave some sort of clue that you get to go and discover,” Sam said handing him a bunch of rope. “Don’t worry, I got you.” 

“And why does it have to be me?” Dean asked. 

“Because you always make me the bait,” Sam said with a shrug.

“Bait!” Dean shouted. 

“Dude will you be quiet, that night guard could come back any minute. Just put the rope around your waist and I’ll make sure you don’t fall to your death.”

“Right because that’s something normal people say,” Dean muttered as he fastened the rope around himself. He grabbed the flashlight from Sam, pulled his gun, and then lowered himself into the sinkhole. “You drop me and I’ll shoot you,” Dean threatened, but his brother only grinned at him as he lowered him into the hole.

Dean shone the light all around him, but all he could see was crumbling dirt and various insects which wasn’t helping his distaste for his situation. A few more feet down and something caught his eye. Stowing his gun, he pulled himself closer to the edge. Shining his light, he could see that wedged in the wall of mud and roots, was a child’s hair clip. The same yellow sunflower hair clip Allison Darby was wearing in the missing posters her mother had painted the town with. 

“Dammit,” Dean swore. He reached out and pulled on the hair clip, but it was slicked with something. Holding his light between his teeth, Dean pulled out his knife and used it to pry the clip from a web of a thick black substance. As soon as he freed it, Dean instantly knew what it was. “Sam, pull me up!” A moment later and Dean was ascending from the sinkhole. 

Sam pulled him to the surface. He took hold of his brothers hand and hauled him onto solid ground. 

“Find something?” Sam asked. Dean held up the sunflower clip, shining his flashlight on it. 

“This is little Allison Darby’s. Look what’s all over it,” he said, handing it to Sam. 

“Ectoplasm,” Sam realized, wiping his hand on his already muddy jeans. “So, a ghost is doing this?” 

“Seems that way,” Dean agreed, “We thought it was some big bad child-catching creature, but it looks like a spook.”

“But what would a ghost want with a bunch of kids? And why the sinkhole?” 

“I don’t know, but we’ll find out. Right now, however, I need a shower,” Dean said as he looked down at himself in disgust. 

“Hey, at least we don’t have to refill a grave, right?” Sam said, joining his brother as they walked back to the car. 

“Smartass.” 

Back at the motel, Sam sat at the small table, his laptop open before him.

A freshly showered Dean sat across from him, sipping from a beer, the sunflower clip in his hands. “What if the ghost is possessing the kids? You know, not stealing them, but literally just walking them away from their families,” Dean offered. 

“That would explain the ecto you found,” Sam sighed, his brow furrowed. 

“The sinkhole is still bugging you, isn’t it?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah,” Sam said, “I mean, ghosts have been known to manipulate things around them. Flickering lights, slamming doors, hell, they’ve even thrown us around a few times, but a sinkhole? That kind of power is...I haven’t seen anything like that.”

“To be fair, Sammy, I’m sure there’s a lot we haven’t seen,” Dean pointed out. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m just not used to not knowing these things.” 

“I know, your brain will explode if you aren’t able to recall every book you’ve ever read,” Dean teased as he got up and went over to his bed, laying flat out, his arms behind his head. 

“Very funny,” Sam said. Dean smiled to himself as he let his eyes close. He was exhausted. Between the search for their father and all the hunting they had been doing, Dean was running on fumes. However, he knew that if he stopped, it would be even worse. He had to work. He didn’t know any other way to live. It had become a habit, a routine.

Dean sat up.

“What if it’s repeating something?” Dean said, the gears turning in his head. 

“What do you mean?” asked Sam.

“Well, ghosts, they relive their last moments or at least important moments of their lives, right?” 

“Usually, yeah,” agreed Sam. 

“What if this bastard, or bitch, I don’t judge, did this when they were alive. Took kids.”

“And put them in a sinkhole?” 

“Maybe,” Dean shrugged. “Look up any other sinkholes in the area. Go back fifty years or more.” 

“I already did that. The last sinkhole to open up anywhere near here was in the sixties and it was in the middle of town,” Sam told him. Dean thought about that for a moment, letting his mind go over everything he knew about the town. 

“When was the golf course built?” Dean asked. 

“Uh, one second,” Sam said as he typed away, bringing up the town records. His brows went up as he read, “It opened a month ago and a week later, Zack Perotta went missing.” 

“And what was there before they built the course?” 

“Nothing, it was part of the lake, they built a damn a year ago to make more room,” Sam read. 

“Right, a lake. A giant body of water where nobody would notice a sinkhole, even one that was there more than fifty years ago.” Dean took a swig of beer as he lay back down, feeling victorious.

“Well, then I am thinking this goes back to when this was more farmland than town. I’ll have to hit the library tomorrow to get local history,” Sam said as he closed his laptop. 

“This thing takes kids every week. Allison was taken four days ago so if we’re going to find this thing, we have to work fast,” said Dean. 

“We will, You take the police station tomorrow and I’ll see what I can find in the records.”

“Great, now get some sleep, you look like hell.”

The next morning Dean dropped Sam off at the library and then he headed for the station. 

“God, I hate this thing,” Dean muttered as he adjusted his tie. He double checked his ID and then headed into the station.

Lake Mills was a fairly small town and the number of deputies on duty definitely showed that. Dean approached the deputy at the front desk, pulling his badge from his pocket. “I’m Agent McCready, FBI, is the sheriff in?” he said.

“Always am for a G-Man,” a deep voice came from behind the desk. “Sheriff Barnes.” Dean shook the hand Barnes offered. “Can I assume you’re here about the missing little ones?” 

“Yes, Sir,” Dean said. Barnes nodded sadly and then gestured Dean into his office. As soon as the door was closed, Barnes let out a long breath. 

“I’m damn glad to see you Agent. I’ve called the local office, but haven’t heard back. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, Sheriff. I take missing kids very seriously. I’m first on the scene when they come across my desk,” Dean said and he meant every word. “What can you tell me about the kids that have been taken?”

“You said taken, not missing,” Barnes observed. 

“In my experience, kids under the age of ten don’t just walk off and go missing for a month on their own,” Dean explained. 

“No, no they do not,” Barnes said with another sigh. “Well, the first was Zack Perotta, age four. Disappeared from the park. His mother looked away for maybe thirty seconds and he was just gone. Same thing with Mary Donaldson, Lila Dexter, and Allison Darby. All from public places, parents were always within sight and then just...gone.”

“Witnesses?”

“We’ve interviewed as many people as we can get to in a day and nobody saw anything. One woman did say that she thought Zack was acting strange, but figured it was just him being a kid,” Barnes said.

“Strange how?” Dean asked. 

“She said Zack was just sitting on the ground. He wasn’t playing or smiling, just sitting there watching everything around him. Almost like…”

“Almost like he didn’t know where he was?” Dean finished. Barnes nodded.

“Exactly. Do you think that could be important? Kid gets confused, wanders off?” 

“Maybe, but that doesn’t explain why three more disappeared afterwards. Did anyone see similar behavior on the other kids.”

“If they did, nobody is saying anything. People are sometimes afraid to come forward when things like this happen. Afraid if they talk, their kids will be next,” Barnes said with a grimace. 

“And what about any other missing persons cases? Anybody else go missing recently, other than the kids?” 

“No, haven’t had anything like that for a while. Sure, it happens just like any other town, but four kids in four weeks? And since that damn golf course was built, tourism has gone up. Strangers are coming and going all the time. It’s becoming a problem and something just isn’t right.”

As Dean left the sheriff’s office, he met up with Sam outside the station.

“So, get this,” Sam began as Dean joined him, leaning against Baby’s trunk. “Lake Mills was founded in 1836 and in 1847, a man by the name of Jonathan Thorne was convicted of kidnapping six kids from neighboring towns. He would take them in the middle of the day and lure them far from town.”

“And let me guess, took them to the lake,” Dean finished.

“Yep,” Sam handed his brother copies of the arrest warrant and trial proceedings, “Thorne was found guilty of the kidnappings and sentenced to death, but before they could hang him, he filled his pockets with stones and drowned himself in the lake. When they went to look for his body they found that a sinkhole had appeared and his remains were lost.”

“But now the ground has been disturbed, the sinkhole has ghostly reopened and sick old Jonathan Thorne is back at it again.”

“Problem is, his bones are at the bottom of the sinkhole. It’s going to take a lot of digging,” Sam said, already dreading it. 

“Wait, what about the kids? The ones back in 1847. What happened to them?”

“Nobody knows. It was as if they just vanished.”

“What’s your theory?” Dean asked, knowing his brother would have many. 

“Best guess? He was keeping them somewhere for some reason and when he died, nobody could find them and they died.”

“So if Thorne is going by the same plan as last time, there’s a chance Allison and the three others are alive?” Dean theorized. 

“That’s one theory and best case scenario,” Sam said, “but yeah.”

“I’ll take it,” Dean said as he climbed into the front seat. Sam got in on the other side. “Thorne took six kids in ‘47 which means he’ll be going after two more, but I’m not going to let the bastard get a fifth.”

As they waited for nightfall to go back to the sinkhole, Sam and Dean headed to the local bar to strategize. 

“How are we supposed to find a bunch of a hundred and fifty year old bones in a mud-slicked sinkhole?” Dean asked as he bit into his burger. 

“Dude, I don’t know, but if we don’t he’s going to get the other two kids.”

“I know, I know,” Dean said, wiping his mouth. “Okay, if his body was weighed down it couldn’t have traveled far and if this is his spirit opening the sinkhole again, then maybe this is different in other ways as well.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, peering up from behind his laptop. 

“It’s not a natural sinkhole. They don’t appear, fill up, and reappear all on their own so maybe the rules have changed a bit. Maybe the kids aren’t anywhere near the lake.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“The first place people looked for the rugrats was at the sinkhole and then they dragged the lake next to the course. Nothing. If Thorne just made these kids disappear, maybe he was keeping them somewhere close to him, but not necessarily at the place he died.” 

“Like his house?”

“Or where he worked. We’re going to have to find out more about this Thorne douche.” 

“And by ‘we’, you mean me,” Sam figured. 

“That’s how we work best, Sammy. I think of things and you fact-check them.” Dean smiled and took a swig from his bottle. They ate in silence as they both worked. Dean read through the missing persons reports while Sam looked into Thorne. There was no stopping Sam Winchester when he got a puzzle that needed to be solved. Dean kept him fueled with food and the occasional drink while he waited for his brother to have an epiphany.

Dean was flipping through their dad’s journal when Sam waved his hand in front of Dean’s face. This was his usual gesture when he figured something out and was too thrilled to use his words. “What do you got?” asked Dean.

“I think I know where he’s keeping the kids,” Sam said with a grin. He turned his computer so Dean could see. “Lake Mills was named that because of the saw mill and the grist mill that was nearby.”

“Grist mill?” Dean asked, confused. 

“Grain mill, flour, stuff like that,” Sam clarified. “So, Thorne worked at the saw mill and was the foreman for pretty much the last ten years of his life. He knew the place inside and out and get this, he used the mill to store contraband and even built false walls to do so.”

“False walls that could potentially hide a bunch of scared kids?” asked Dean. 

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Okay, so now we have to ask ourselves, where do we go first? The mill or the sinkhole?” 

“If we go to the mill, we could find the kids, but that would anger the spirit even more and who knows what will happen,” Sam cautioned.

“An angry spirit isn’t anything we haven’t dealt with before, Sammy. I have plenty of salt rounds and if we can’t save a handful of kids from one ghost then we deserve to get our asses handed to us.” 

“Fair enough,” Sam agreed. “Okay, then we go to the mill, find the kids, and deal with Thorne later.” 

“There’s still something that doesn’t make sense,” Dean said. 

“Besides a ghost possessing kids?” 

“Ghosts are tied to places, right? Yeah, they can hitch rides here and there, but if he died at the lake, how is he able to go to the mill.”

“Through the kids,” Sam reminded him. 

“Well he had to get out of the sinkhole and to the first kid somehow and how is he moving from one kid, back into town and possessing another? Spirits don’t work like that.” 

“Another mystery that we have to deal with,” Sam said with a frown. 

“Yeah, but after we get the kids. Come on,” Dean said, dropping a few bills onto the table.

Sam and Dean headed back to the motel so Dean could change out of his suit and they could gear up. Both of them loaded shotguns with rock salt and Dean slung an iron chain around his neck just in case. A part of him was glad it was just a ghost. Ghosts were familiar, easy, even if they were into possessing people. While Dean wanted to work, he was grateful for an easy case. 

At least he knew what to expect when it came to a haunting. Salt, iron, bones, simple. On top of that, he may even be able to save some kids. It was all coming up Winchester and he was ready for a win.

They took the Impala to the edge of the Eastern woods and then went on foot, trekking it towards the old saw mill. The woods around them were quiet and besides the odd rustle from the wind, the trees were still. 

“Animals know when something isn’t right,” Sam said, glancing around them.

“Humans should start taking notes from Bambi,” Dean quipped as he stepped over a fallen tree. “How much further?” 

“Just over that ridge,” said Sam as he pointed his flashlight toward an opening in the trees. The brothers hiked until they broke through the thick forest and the old saw mill was before them. Clearly, the place had been firmly abandoned. They found evidence of vandalism on the perimeter, but it looked as if the mill itself had remained untouched. 

Dean bashed the padlock on the main gate with a piece of scrap metal and they slipped inside. Sam had found some old building schematics from the mill’s construction. Problem was, there was no record of where Thorne had built the secret rooms.

From his pocket, Dean drew his EMF reader and instantly, it lit up with red. “There aren’t any power lines nearby are there?” he asked his brother. 

“No.”

“Great so this is all Thorne,” Dean sighed as they rounded a corner, but then stopped as he stepped in something. “Sam.”

“What?” asked Sam, shining his light. Dean had stepped in ectoplasm and as Sam moved the light, he jumped back slightly. Multiple bodies were strewn across the area. “I thought you said the sheriff told you there weren’t any missing people.”

“He did, but he didn’t say anything about missing corpses,” Dean said, nudging one of the bodies with the toe of his boot. “This one has been dead for at least a couple of months.”

“Thorne has been grave robbing?” Sam asked, kneeling by another man. 

“Or the morgue or the local funeral home. Would explain how he’s been moving around. Jumping into multiple bodies,” Dean said, looking up at his brother. 

“If he was using these to move into town to find the kids, wouldn’t the bodies be found in town?”

“None of this is making any damn sense!” Dean growled, stepping away from the bodies and toward the main building. “Did you bring the infrared scanner?” 

“Here,” Sam said, pulling the device out of his bag and handing it to Dean. As Sam acted as a sentry with his shotgun, Dean fired up the device, scanning the outside of the building. “Anything?”

“Not yet, but this isn’t exactly NASA-grade tech, we’ll have to move inside to get clearer readings,” Dean said. They moved into the main building, Dean scanning every wall and along the floor. As they walked through the structure, their EMF flickered with every step. Dean knew it was mostly residual energy from the last time Thorne had been around, but he kept his eyes open.

Sam pointed to one of the upstairs offices and Dean pointed the laser up and instantly, the infrared lit up. “Sam,” Dean gasped and then he was moving. Taking the metal steps two at a time, he ran for the office with Sam on his heels. With a hard kick, the door gave and in the low light from their flashlights they could see the room was empty. However, Dean knew that wasn’t entirely the case. 

“Behind here,” Sam said as he ran his hands along the far wall, knocking to hear an echo. Suddenly, from the other side of the wall they heard a small voice. 

“Hello?” Sam and Dean looked at eachother. 

“We’re going to get you out!” Dean called back. “Step away from the wall!” The relief was clear on his face and even Sam was smiling at the beautiful sound of that small voice. “Look for a latch or something.”

“Here!” Sam called, lifting up a corner of the decaying carpet. There was a metal catch on the ground, secured with a padlock. “What ghost can operate a lock?”

“None. Move,” Dean said, pulling his pistol and aiming it at the lock. Sam backed away quickly as Dean fired, breaking the lock with one shot. Kicking away the busted metal, the brothers pulled open the fake wall to reveal four scared kids. Zack, Mary, Lila, and Allison were crouched in the corner. The room was smaller than your average closet. Blankets were laid down on the floor with a few pillows and a couple of camper lamps. On the other side of the room were a few boxes of crackers, some juice boxes, and a couple gallons of water. The kids themselves were dirty, shivering, and had clearly been crying. 

“It’s okay,” Sam assured them, gently. “I’m Sam and this is my brother, Dean. We’re here to take you home.” Zack, the youngest was hiding behind Allison who was almost nine. Mary and Lila, both six, were sticking close to each other as well. Dean picked up one of the less filthy blankets and held it out to them.

“Come on, guys, let’s get you back to your parents,” Dean whispered. Mary and Lila slowly approached Dean and let him wrap the blanket around both of them. Allison brought Zack to Sam who scooped him up, holding him close to his chest and then she turned to Dean. “You’re okay now,” he assured her and then she ran into his arms, gripping his shirt. “It’s okay.” 

“Dean, this wasn’t a ghost,” Sam whispered, pointing to the food and the clear evidence that a human had been here to look after the kids. 

“I know, let’s just get these kids out of here.” Dean had all the girls link hands while Allison held onto Dean’s jacket, keeping right behind him. Sam kept hold of Zack, balancing his shotgun in his right hand. They made it to the main level when their breath became visible. 

“Dean,” Sam warned. Dean then turned to Allison.

“Take the others and go over there,” Dean said, pointing to a large table that had been overturned. “Stay there and don’t come out until I tell you, okay?” Allison was clearly terrified, but nodded. “You gotta say it, Allison.”

“Okay,” her small voice echoed. 

“Go, quickly,” he urged and Sam handed Zack to Allison who gripped his hand and pulled the other kids over to the hiding spot. As soon as the kids were clear, Sam and Dean raised their guns, back to back, waiting for Thorne to show himself. 

Suddenly, the doors they had come through slammed shut. “It seems the Bureau now employs hunters.” The Winchesters raised their guns higher as out of the shadows came Sheriff Barnes. 

“Barnes?” Dean asked, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Barnes smiled at them and then slowly raised his hand to his nose, wiping beneath it. When he lowered his hand, it was slicked with black. 

“He’s possessed,” Sam realized. 

“Barnes, listen to me,” Dean began, “you’re not you right now. There’s a spirit, a ghost, he’s possessing you.” 

“Oh, I know,” Barnes said with another smile. “How else do you think he’s been getting around the city?” Dean’s teeth mashed together as he stared at the man. 

“You let him possess you?” Sam asked. “Why?”

“To save my town!” Barnes bellowed. “Trust me, it wasn’t easy getting used to...this,” Barnes said, gesturing to the black ectoplasm that stained his clothes. “But I had to do what needed to be done.” 

“And the kids? What about them?” Dean yelled. 

“They were fine. I kept them fed. I protected them from Thorne!” Barnes argued. 

“You’re a sick son of a bitch, you know that?” Dean swore. 

“It was a scare tactic,” Sam concluded. “Bring up an old crime to get rid of the tourists.”

“He did say he didn’t like the new golf course.”

“These outsiders were poison. Bringing vandalism, their stupid charity galas, all for what? A few extra bucks in the bank? It blackened the reputation of our town!” Barnes yelled.

“So, instead of trying to make change you let a spirit hitch a ride with you like a taxi and kidnap children!” Sam shot back. 

“Again, I did what had to be done,” Barnes defended. 

“And so will I,” Dean said before raising his gun and shooting Barnes. The rock salt hit the sheriff and Thorne was thrown from his body. The spirit was instantly pulled back to its gravesite and Barnes hit the floor, clutching his abdomen. 

“You shot me!” Barnes yelled. 

“It’s salt, you’ll live,” Sam spat. 

“Unfortunately,” added Dean. Barnes went to say something else when suddenly he was choking. The sheriff clawed at his throat as his skin slowly turned blue. Sam nudged Dean and pointed to his breath which was once again visible. Dean clutched his gun, but then six figures appeared around the sheriff. It was the six children from 1847. One by one, they all raised their small hands, pointing their ghostly fingers at the choking man before them. 

Then, all at once, they walked forward, placing their hands on him and Barnes started to convulse. Sam and Dean watched as Barnes shook on the ground, losing oxygen by the moment until he finally stopped. As soon as the sheriff took his last breath, the six children turned to the Winchesters, their sad expressions barely visible in the low light. 

“We can’t leave yet,” one of the smaller boys said. Dean dropped his weapon completely. 

“I know, but you will. We’re going to get you peace,” Dean promised the child. 

“Please,” a little girl said, her image sputtering as she tried to hold onto her corporeal form. 

“We’ll take care of Thorne,” Sam told them. The little girl nodded and then they slipped back into the veil. “Now what?” Sam asked. 

“We get these kids back to their parents and then we go find Thorne's body. No matter what.” 

Dean drove in silence. He glanced at the backseat where Sam sat with Mary and Lila on either side of him. Both of the girls were fast asleep on his shoulders, his arms firmly around them. Allison sat next to Dean, Zack tucked into her other side. Halfway through the drive back into town, Allison had taken hold of Dean’s right arm and he had driven with one hand since.

He felt like an idiot. How could have not seen right through Barnes? He was usually pretty good at reading people. Perhaps he was hoping that other people would be more sympathetic to missing kids just as he was. Now with two of them curled up next to him and the others in the back, he had never felt such rage. How could Barnes do this to them, all to scare some tourists?

God, he really hated people. 

By the time they pulled up to the station, Mary and Lila were only half awake. Sam carried both inside, one on each arm while Dean carried Zack with Allison once again holding his jacket. It was late when they entered the building, but as soon as they did and the deputy at the front desk recognized Dean and then the children he and his brother were carrying, he yelled for the commanding officer. 

As Dean explained to the second in command what had happened, well, a loose version of it, Sam stayed with the kids. That is, except for Allison who stuck close to Dean no matter what. She stayed quiet, but wouldn’t let go of his leather jacket. Ever so often, Dean would squeeze her hand to reassure her that she was alright. 

Dean had told the CO that they had gotten an anonymous tip about the mill and that some campers had seen someone going in and out of it. When they arrived, they found Sheriff Barnes with the kids. When the sheriff had tried to stop them, he had collapsed. Dean said that they had tried to revive him, but they didn’t have any luck. The whole time Allison nodded along with his story. The eight-year-old was rather smart for her age. 

Once he had given his statement, Sam and Dean were sent out of the room so the cops could talk to the kids alone. “You don’t think the kids are going to tell the cops about the ghosts, do you?” Sam asked Dean. 

“If they do, cops will brush it off as PTSD most likely,” Dean said quietly. He kept his eyes on Allison who was speaking to the deputies. Her cheeks were still stained with tears, but she was putting on a brave face for the rest of the kids. 

“Dean,” Sam said, getting his attention. Sam pointed over his shoulder and Dean turned to see a group of people rush into the station. It was the kids’ parents. Sobs echoed throughout the station as the deputies finished talking to the kids and let the parents in. 

In amongst the chaos, Sam and Dean slipped out the back. They didn’t waste any more time as they drove for the golf course. “What if we can’t find the bones?” Sam asked as Dean sped down the main road. 

“Then we’ll burn the whole course to the ground,” Dean sneered. 

“The kids are okay, Dean. We saved them,” Sam assured him. 

“It’s not enough. Barnes is dead and now Thorne has to go. I’m not leaving until I know that ghost is burned and gone,” Dean said, taking a sharp turn.

“It’s not your fault that you missed the sheriff,” Sam said quietly. 

“I should have noticed something. I should have realized…” Dean trailed off. 

“We are not mind readers, Dean.”

“No, but one of us is psychic,” Dean reminded him, his hands gripping the wheel tighter. 

“Are you serious!” Sam exclaimed, “Are you actually blaming me for this?” Dean was quiet for a moment before sighing. 

“No, of course not,” Dean told him, “I would never blame you for anything like this, Sam, I’m just upset and pissed off and I’m sorry.” Sam reached over and gripped his brother’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay, I get it.”

“You get what?” Dean asked. 

“You’ve always had a soft spot for kids, Dean. The last time we were in Wisconsin...you know with Lucas.”

“What about him?”

“Come on, man, I saw the way you were with him. You would have moved heaven and hell to make sure he was safe.” 

“Yeah, Sammy, cause that’s our damn job,” Dean said.

“Is it so hard for you to admit that you care about the people we save?” Sam challenged. Dean ignored him as he turned onto the golf course. As soon as he parked the Impala, he was moving, heading to the trunk. Sam followed, annoyed with his brother’s inability to talk about his feelings. They geared up with as much salt and iron as they could handle and then grabbed their headlights and a couple of shovels. Dean snagged the lighter fluid as well. 

“Okay, let’s torch this son of a bitch.” 

Sam grimaced as he followed Dean down into the sinkhole.

“Okay, I get what you were saying earlier,” Sam said, avoiding a centipede. 

“Told you,” Dean grunted as he propelled down. 

“Are we even sure he’s here?”

“He’s tied to this stupid hole. Without Barnes, the corpses, or the kids, he’s stuck down here. We just have to find his ass. And look,” Dean said, pointing to a collection of what he thought were souvenirs. A headband, a small shoe, and a small action figure. “Clearly, he took something from each of them.”

”We never did find out what Thorne was doing with the kids,” Sam pointed out. 

“And I don’t know if we ever will. Point is, we got the four that were missing and now we’re going to roast this bastard before he can find his way back to the ones at the mill.”

“And if he finds us first?” Sam asked as they hit the bottom. 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a ghost, Sam,” Dean said, throwing him look over his shoulder.

“I think I’m more afraid of being buried alive in this damn sinkhole,” countered Sam. 

“Okay, I see your point,” Dean agreed. “Come on, start looking for bones.” The boys turned on their headlamps and started sifting through the mud. Dean found multiple insects, a few animal bones, but mostly just mud. Sam didn’t seem to be having much luck either. 

“This is like looking for a needle in a needle stack, Dean. The bones could be buried even deeper than we think,” Sam said after he chucked another pile of mud to the opposite side of the hole. 

“You know what I don’t get,” Dean said, leaning against his shovel. “If he kept the kids in the mill, why did he kill himself here? Why not do it at the mill?”

“Convenience?” offered Sam. 

“Seems too easy.”

“You call this easy?” Sam scoffed. 

“You know what I mean.”

“You know, what if the records were wrong?” Sam said, tossing his shovel down. “What if Thorne didn’t drown himself?”

“Are you kidding me? You think about this now?” 

“Dude, just hold on,” Sam said, “I’m not saying that he didn’t die when they say he did, but what if it wasn’t suicide?” 

“How would that make a difference? So somebody killed him instead, what would that change?” Sam thought about this for a moment before pulling his gun. Dean had just enough time to duck as Sam aimed and fire behind his brother. “Sam! What the hell?” Sam ignored him and fired again in a different spot. “You’re going to hit a water main and then we really are going to die, you idiot!” Sam fired again and this time, there was the sound of something shattering.

“It would change a lot,” Sam said with a grin as he walked over to the wall of dirt and dug his shovel in. The thin wall gave way and beneath roots and beetles was a slab of wood. “Especially the way you dispose of a body.” 

“Sam,” Dean said as he stepped up next to his brother, “you’re a freakin’ genius.” Dean reached over and kissed the top of his brother’s head much to Sam’s dismay. Together, they dug out the pine box from the side of the earth and pried the side of it off. The smell hit them first along with a bunch of bone dust. 

Sam put his light in the box and they were met with a pile of bones belonging to one Jonathan Thorne. “There,” Sam said, pointing to a hole in the skull. “Single shot to the back of the head.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” Dean muttered. “Okay, get the salt.” Before Sam could reach for his bag, he was thrown backwards. Dean turned just in time to see a very angry Jonathan Thorne bearing down at him. He reached for his gun, but Thorne was there first, slamming into him. Dean went down hard, hitting his head against debris. 

“Dean!” Sam called.

“Get the salt, Sam!” Dean cried out as Thorne advanced on him. Dean tore the iron chain from his neck and whipped it towards the spirit, but his vision was swimming from the head blow and his aim was off. Thorne had him by the throat the next second. Behind him, Sam was throwing salt in the box along with lighter fluid. 

Thorne gripped Dean tighter and the air left his chest. Dean clawed for a weapon, but the world was growing colder by the second. “Hey!” Sam yelled and Thorne turned quickly. Sam struck the match and tossed it into the makeshift coffin. Thorne dropped Dean as the flames grew brighter and then, Thorne burned up bright. Dean let out a breath, pulling air into his lungs quickly. 

Sam ran to his brother, crouching down next to him. “Dean, are you okay?”

“Peachy,” grumbled Dean. “A little faster on the desecration next time, okay Sammy?” Sam rolled his eyes, but nodded. A moment later, all around them, the ground started to move. 

“Please tell me I actually did hit a water main,” Sam said quietly. 

“That’s not a water main,” Dean said, his eyes going wide. Suddenly, the walls started to cave in. “Move!” Sam and Dean scrambled for the edge of the sinkhole. Dean stumbled after his brother, climbing the ropes back towards the surface. Below them, the sinkhole was refilling. With Thorne’s spirit gone, things were repairing themselves and in turn, attempting to send the Winchesters to an early grave.

Sam hit the golf course first and reached for his brother. Dean was almost out when his foot became tangled in a shifting root. “Son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, tugging on his leg. 

“Stop moving!” Sam said, pulling his gun. 

“Sam, don’t you dare!” 

“Do you trust me?” Sam asked, staring into his brother’s eyes. Dean didn’t hesitate. 

“Always,” he told him. 

“Then stay still.” Dean shut his eyes as Sam aimed and fired one shot, shattering the root completely. Tossing his gun down, Sam gripped his brother by the shoulders and pulled him from the sinkhole just as the ground healed itself below them. They fell to the ground, panting. 

“Do I still have a foot?” Dean asked, his eyes still closed. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Sam chastised. Dean opened one eye, peering down at his ankle.

“Oh thank god,” Dean said, “these boots are my favourite.” 

“Are you ready yet? We should go before anyone comes asking questions about Barnes,” Sam called out. 

After an eventful night at the golf course, Sam and Dean headed back to their motel room for much needed showers and a lot of well-earned sleep. Dean exited the bathroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“You good?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, but we got to make a stop first,” Dean said as he grabbed his bag and his keys. Dean drove East back towards the forest, taking his time, trying to calm down from the last forty-eight hours. A deputy had left him a message on his phone, letting him know that all the kids were safe back at home and that Barnes’ body had been recovered and the scene had been processed. While Dean was glad the munchkins were back in their beds, there were still six other kids he needed to check on. 

They parked the Impala and hiked the rest of the way to the saw mill. The flags were still in the ground from the CSI team taking notes of the places the corpses that were outside the main building had been. Sam and Dean ducked under the caution tape, careful not to leave any footprints. They headed for the last place they saw the spirits. Ectoplasm still stained the floor, but anybody else would think it was old oil from the mill.

Dean stepped easily around it and then glanced around the room, waiting. “Maybe they already left,” Sam offered. Dean shook his head and then his breath appeared before him.

“They’re here,” Dean whispered as six kids materialized before him. They were cleaner and looked…peaceful. The little boy and girl who had spoken to them the day before looked at Dean with smiles on their faces. “It’s okay, you can go now,” he told them. 

The little boy took hold of the girls hand and they backed up and joined the other four. Then, one by one, their souls left, ascending towards the heavens. Sam and Dean watched them go and a small weight was lifted off of their chests. 

“Okay,” Dean said, breaking the silence, “now I’m ready to go.” 

“We can call this one a pretty big win, you know?” Sam said as they headed back to the car. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean we saved four kids, gave peace to six more, torched some bones, and stopped a maniac sheriff. I would call that as big as you can get on seemingly easy job,” Sam offered. 

“You’re right,” Dean agreed. “We did good. If only all of them could go this well, huh?” 

“Can’t win them all,” Sam said and Dean hated to agree with him, but he did.

By the time they reached the Impala and drove back onto the main road to head out of town, the residents of Lake Mills were out and about. With their children back home, the town seemed happier, lighter. Dean was grateful that they didn’t know what actually happened and hoped that the kids would eventually forget or at least not be afraid of what’s out there. Then again, he always felt that fear was a good thing, it kept you smart, it kept you alive. 

Dean rolled Baby to a stop at a red light, his left arm leaning out the window. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a mop of blonde curls. He turned to see little Allison Darby coming out of the doctor’s office, her hand firmly in her mom’s grip. Allison saw Dean and gave him a small little wave and a smile, her two front teeth missing. Dean waved back. Allison placed her finger to her lips as if she knew he wanted her to keep his secret. Dean mirrored the gesture and then she skipped away with her mom. 

Dean watched her in his mirror for a second before hitting the gas as the light turned green. A smile found its way onto his face as he headed for the interstate. “What’s got you so smiley?” Sam asked. 

“It’s the little things, Sammy,” Dean said, grinning at his brother. “It’s always the little things.”