Work Text:
2005
"Hey." Clint's voice was soft as he stood behind his brothers. He had come alone; not wanting whatever had killed Jessica to go after Cooper or Laura. Sam said nothing, but Dean shot the oldest Winchester brother a thin smile. Both of the younger boys looked tired and worn.
The funeral was a solemn affair. Jessica's many friends and family spoke, but Sam just watched them silently, not speaking. He looked so devastated, staring at the plot in which his beloved was laid to rest. Clint placed a hand on Sam's shoulder.
"She wouldn't want you to be sad," he said softly. "If I know anything about women – and I do, considering I'm married – they don't like it when their guys are mopey. Remember the good times, and- oof!"
Sam - who towered over the archer - and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, a few tears slipping silently from his eyes, while Dean stood off to the side, watching them with a hint of amusement.
"Do you guys wanna stay with me for a couple of days before you head out?" Clint asked them. "I know Laura would want to see you guys, and you can meet the baby."
Sam offered his oldest brother a soft smile.
"Yeah," he said. "But just one night, though. I need to go after the thing that killed Jess."
Clint frowned a tiny bit, but nodded in understanding. He would have done the exact same if he were in his little brothers position. If someone or something had gone after Laura, he wouldn't rest until it was a smoldering pile of ashes. And if something even so much as thought about touching Cooper, well…
He shook his head slightly to clear it.
"'Kay, boys. Let's get on the road. Dean, you drive behind me with Sammy." Dean nodded, and the two boys – although they were old enough to be considered men, Clint would always think of his brothers as 'boys' – clambered into the Impala. Clint cast it a loving look as they got in. The three of them had spent so much time in that old car; it was like a home for them.
Laura was shocked, but nonetheless pleased, when her brothers-in-law showed up at the farm. Cooper, just a few days old and dang was that kid cute, gurgled at his two uncles in baby-speech, and the Hunters grinned despite themselves.
"He's fat," Dean said with a smile at he poked the boy's nose.
Clint glared at him, and Laura simply laughed.
"He is not fat," the offended father said adamantly, "He's just got some baby fat, that's all. He's perfect."
His brother smirked.
"Whatever you say, dude."
The night was spent quietly, but it was enjoyable all the same. Sam cracked a few smiles, and enjoyed holding his little nephew in his arms as the four adults spoke amongst themselves. Clint wondered if babies could be used as replacements for therapy dogs.
The two younger Winchester brothers left early the next morning, explaining in a note left on the kitchen table that they had a lead on a hunt out in Colorado. Clint wished that they'd stuck around long enough to say goodbye, but he understood why they had to leave.
Besides, Fury still didn't know about his brothers – even though he knew all about Laura and was even keeping her off of his S.H.I.E.L.D. file – and he didn't know if Fury would drop by or not, so better not to take risks. Besides, Hunting could get… illegal. Better to keep his brother's off of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar for as long as he could.
"It was nice to see the boys again," Laura said conversationally as she fed Cooper. "Sam's gotten pretty tall."
Clint chuckled a bit.
"Yeah, small fry one-upped me and Dean, that's for sure." He took a sip of coffee. "I'm glad that they're together again, though."
Laura hummed in agreement.
"I'm just glad that the house has been completely warded," she said. "I hope they know that they're welcome here anytime."
Clint smiled at his wife. He leaned over to give her a kiss on the top of her head, and caressed his infant son's face.
"I'm sure they do."
"You've been having what?" Clint hissed venomously at his brother through the cellphone. "And you didn't see fit to tell me the last time that you idiots were here?"
There was a pause on the other end of the phone before Sam spoke.
"It, uh, never came up? If it's any consolation, I only just told Dean. He made me call you."
Clint grit his teeth. It was almost midnight where he was – in France, of all places – and he'd only just finished his mission with Natasha as a partner. He didn't want to get roped into another 'adventure'; he really just wanted to get home to Laura. But all the same…
"And so you're going back to our childhood home because of these visions." He concluded. He did, after all, know his brother and his intentions. "And you want me to come too, why?"
"Clint, please. Just come with us."
Clint softened a bit, but he was not going to let Sam know that he was convinced.
"Why should I?" he said, even though he knew he'd end up saying yes in the end, he still wanted Sam to think that this was his idea, and that he was doing this because he wanted to, not because his brother had begged.
"Because… I don't know. It just feels like you need to be there, I guess. The three of us back where it started. Please?" Sam tried, and Clint sighed, his façade slipping.
"Fine. I'll meet you in Lawrence, okay?" he said. Sam agreed, and the two ended the call.
Clint rubbed a hand over his face and groaned a little bit. This was not going to be fun.
"Heya, boys." Clint greeted his brothers as he sat on the hood of the car that he'd rented.
Sam and Dean greeted him warmly, and walked to the front of the house. Clint looked at the boys before he knocked on the door. Sam looked a little shocked at the sight of the woman that answered it, but Dean had schooled his features into his federal agent persona.
"Yes?" the woman who answered the door asked them.
"Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but we're with the Federal-" Dean began his spiel, but Sam quickly cut him off.
"I'm Sam Winchester, and these are my brothers Dean and Clint. We used to live here." He spoke the words quickly. "You know, we were just drivin' by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place."
The woman looked at the three of them, a little taken aback.
"Winchester," she mused. "Yeah, that's so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos and stuff the other night."
"You did?" Dean asked in surprise, and she nodded and stepped inside.
"Come on in," she said to them, and the three brothers entered the house where everything had begun.
"This is weird," Clint commented. "It looks different and the same at the same time."
Sam nodded in agreement.
"It's too bad that you didn't bring Laura to see it," he said.
"Laura?" The woman – who had identified herself as Jenny – asked them curiously as they walked into the kitchen. A little girl was sitting at the table, busying herself with homework and Clint could see a toddler bouncing around in his playpen.
"My wife," Clint explained. "She's at home right now with our new baby." He grinned like the proud papa he was.
"Juice! Juice! Juice!" the toddler called. Jenny smiled.
"That's Ritchie. He's kind of a juice Junkie." She took a sippy cup out of the refrigerator and handed it to her son. "But, hey, at least he won't get scurvy." She walked over to her daughter. "Sari, this is Sam, Dean, and Clint. They used to live here."
"Hi," Sari said, looking up from her schoolwork. Dean waved at her.
"Hey, Sari." Said Sam with a small smile.
"So did you just move in?" Clint asked, as he had noticed that the room had the empty feel of having recently been moved in to.
Jenny nodded.
"Yeah, from Wichita."
"You got family her, or…?" Dean asked, leaving the question open for an answer. Jenny sighed a bit and shook her head.
"No," she admitted. "I just, uh, needed a fresh start, that's all. So, new town, new job – I mean, as soon as I find one. New house."
"How do you like the old place so far?" Clint asked her, as he stared around at the kitchen – most of which was still somewhat the same.
Jenny explained that the house was getting old – lights were flickering, the sink didn't work, and that rats had invaded the basement.
Clint winced a little, sad to hear that the home he had loved for eight years was falling into disrepair. Dean was more curious, however, and asked questions straight away.
"Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?" he questioned. It (finally) dawned on Clint just what his brother was asking.
"It's just the scratching, actually." Jenny confirmed.
"Mom?" Sari asked, looking at her mother, who knelt next to her daughter. "Ask them if it was here when they lived here."
The brothers exchanged looks.
"What, Sari?" Sam questioned her.
"The thing in my closet." The young girl said.
Jenny looked a little bit embarrassed.
"Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets." She turned to Clint and his brothers. "Right?"
Sam had a perturbed look on his face as he answered the young mother.
"Right. No, no, of course not."
"She had a nightmare the other night," Jenny said, looking apologetic.
Sari, however, was not comforted.
"I wasn't dreaming," she said boldly. "It came into my bedroom, and it was on fire."
Clint felt like he'd just been turned to ice.
"You hear that?" Sam said as the three walked back to their cars. "A figure on fire."
"That woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?" Dean asked the youngest Winchester, a serious look on his face.
Wow. If he wasn't making 'girl of your dreams' jokes, then he really was worried about all of this.
Sam nodded.
"Yeah."
"You hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit." Clint pointed out. "And, what her daughter said…" he trailed off with a frown.
Dean grunted. "Yeah, well, I'm just freaked out that Sam's weirdo visions are comin' true." He said. He did look a little unnerved at the whole ordeal, and Clint clapped a hand on his younger brother's shoulder for a brief moment.
Sam was starting to look panicked as he spoke again.
"Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it's the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?" he asked.
Clint opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the shrill ring of his cellphone going off in his jacket pocket. Shooting his brothers an apologetic look, he walked a short distance away to answer it.
"Barton." He said in a professional voice.
"Where are you?" came Coulson's voice, and Clint closed his eyes briefly.
In his haste to get to his brothers in Lawrence, he had completely forgotten to tell Coulson that he was taking a few days off. Nat probably already knew – the two of them had formed a strong bond over the past couple of years that they'd worked together - but he didn't want to be called back into the field at the moment – not until he and his brothers took care of whatever was in the house.
"Heya, Coulson," he said, injecting false cheeriness into his voice to disguise the fatigue and worry that he was currently feeling. "What's up?"
"What's up? What's up is that you've disappeared on me, and didn't tell me where you were going! That's what's up!" Coulson fumed.
Clint had to hold in his laughter; Phil sounded like a worried mother hen scolding him like that.
"My, uh, a friend of mine was having an emergency and needed my help. Involved some non-human things, low-level. I took care of it." Clint improvised, not wanting to make his brothers known to the Coulson – and, therefore, the entire organization. He was trying to keep his brothers safe, dang it, not put a glowing neon sign over their heads.
The blond archer snapped his cellphone shut, cutting off Coulson's angry retort, and returning to Sam and Dean.
"And how you gonna do that, huh?" Dean was saying, frustration written all over his face. "You got a story that she's gonna believe?"
Sam looked frustrated, but he didn't continue to argue with Dean.
"Then what are we supposed to do?" he asked.
"I suggest," Clint spoke up, "that we go somewhere else before our friend Jenny notices that we haven't left and are still parked outside her house. C'mon, guys, lunch is on me."
"We just gotta chill out, that's all. You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?" Dean said to his brothers as the three of them were parked outside of a gas station a little while away from their old house, now occupied by Jenny and their family.
Sam sighed in resignation.
"We'd try to figure out what we were dealin' with." He said. "We'd dig into the history of the house."
Clint pointed at him.
"Right on, Sam. Except we already know what went down there."
"Yeah," Sam agreed, but how much de we know? I mean, how much do you guys actually remember?"
"About that night, you mean?" Dean asked him.
Sam nodded in confirmation.
"Yeah."
Clint sighed. He really didn't want to relive the memories of that night, but if it were to help with the case, if he could save their lives….
"I don't remember too much," he confessed. "It was pretty late at night. I woke up because of the smoke. It's all a blur, really"
Sam looked to Dean.
"And what do you remember?"
"Not much." Dean informed him. "I remember the fire, the heat. Clint woke me up, but I heard a scream. And then I carried you out the front door."
Sam looked a little confused at that, having not previously known that fact.
"You did?" he asked his older brother, his brows knit together.
Dean looked to him in surprise.
"Yeah," he said. "What, you never knew that?" he turned his head to look at Clint. "You never told him?"
Clint shrugged helplessly.
"I thought Dad told him," he said with honesty in his voice.
Dean looked at him for a moment longer before shrugging and turning back to look at the youngest Winchester to answer him.
"And, well," he continued. "You know Dad's story as well as we do. Mom was, was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her."
He looked pained as he recounted his tale. Sam frowned.
"And he never had a theory about what did it?" he asked, brows knitted together in confusion. Clint shook his head.
"No," he said, a little bitterness seeping into his tone. "If he did, he kept it to himself."
"God knows we asked him enough times." Dean added.
Sam pressed his lips together as he thought.
"Okay. So, if we're gonna figure out what's goin' on now, we have to figure out what happened back then, and see if it's the same thing." He surmised, and his brothers nodded in agreement.
"Yeah," Dean said. "We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time."
After a short pause, Sam said, "Does this feel like just another job to you?"
Dean said nothing for a moment.
"I'll be right back." He said finally. "I gotta go to the bathroom."
He walked away, and Clint and Sam watched him leave. Clint turned back to face the youngest Winchester brother. He still looked worried, but then again, he was right; this was most definitely no normal case for them.
"We're gonna figure it out," Clint said quietly to his youngest brother. "We always do, Sam."
Guenther's Auto Repair, the sign proclaimed boldly. Clint looked at it apprehensively.
"I think I'm going to sit this one out," he said, eyeing the building that they were currently parked in front of. "This guy worked with Dad, and he might recognize me, and I don't-"
"Clint," Dean cut him off, "You are a master assassin for a secret organization, and you're getting stage right about talking to this guy? Gimme a break, you're comin' in with us."
He scowled at his younger brother, even though he knew that he had a point. He shouldn't be so nervous about meeting with a guy that used to work with their dad. He probably wouldn't remember him, anyway. And even if he did, what did it really matter? He sighed.
"Fine," he grumbled, and Dean shot Sam a smug look, as if to say, 'See? I can make him do anything!'
They walked into the garage and found the owner, presenting themselves as police investigating John's disappearance.
"So you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?" Dean asked the man, his face expressionless.
The guy nodded.
"Yeah, we used to, a long time ago. Matter of fact, it must be, uh, twenty years since John disappeared. So why the cops interested all of a sudden?" He said, looking a little confused.
It was time for Clint to step in. His dealt with people asking questions on a daily bases, and he'd gotten quite good at telling them what they wanted to hear.
"We've re-opened some of the cases that were left unsolved. The Winchester disappearance is at the top of the list, and we just want to go over things to try and find anything that we might have missed before." He said smoothly, a polite smile plastered on his face.
The owner nodded in understanding.
"Oh," he said, seemingly buying into the story. "Well, what do you wanna know about John?"
Dean flashed a smile at him.
"Well, whatever you remember, you know, whatever sticks out in your mind."
The guy nodded, pulling a face as he concentrated on the memories.
"Well… he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that." He laughed a bit, though the laughter was tinged by a hint of sadness. "And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It's that whole Marine thing." He added that last comment as if he needed to explain. "But, oh, he sure loved Mary. And he doted on those kids."
Clint felt his chest tighten slightly at the mention of his adoptive mother. He remembered how John had always looked at her, as if she were the only thing in the world that kept him sane. In retrospect, that was probably closer to the truth than Clint had initially realized. When Mary had died, John had gone a bit loony, blaming the paranormal almost immediately. Clint remembered the long hours he'd spent either with his brothers or waiting in the car while John had talked to anyone and everyone whom he'd thought could give hi the answers that he'd craved. Hell if he'd remembered any of them, though.
"But that was before the fire?" Sam asked the garage owner, and Clint was snapped back into the moment.
Another nod.
"That's right." The man said, looking a little morose at the mention of the disaster.
"He ever talk about that night?"
"No, not at first." The owner confided. "I think he was in shock."
"Right," Sam said, and Clint could feel that even though he was trying to be polite, Sam would start getting angry if he didn't get any real answers soon.
"But eventually?" Clint butted in. "What did he say later on? Y'know, once he was talking."
The owner eyed him for a moment before he finally continued, "Nothin' did it. It was an accident, an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or somethin'. I begged him to get some help, but-" he shook his head.
"But what?" Dean pressed the man; ignoring the look Clint shot him.
"Oh, he just got worse and worse." The man said.
Clint sighed. Did people enjoy being vague when it came to important details?
"Sir, this could help the investigation," he said. "Would you please explain what you mean by 'worse'? How, exactly, did he act?"
The man pursed his lips.
"Oh, he started readin' these strange ol' books." He said. "He started goin' to see this palm reader in town."
Finally, Clint thought. We're getting somewhere.
"Palm reader?" Dean said with curiosity. "Uh, do you have a name?"
The owner scoffed at him.
"No."
Clint sighed. Never mind, then.
"You guys try to find this palm reader," Clint said to his brothers as they left the garage. "I'm gonna call a couple of my people, see if they can help us in anyway."
Sam eyed him curiously.
"I thought you said you were keeping us out of their files," he said. "How's asking about your missing dad going to help with that?"
Clint waved him off with a roll of his eyes.
"I'll just say that I'm looking for someone with a lead on one of my cases," he said. "No big deal, and no reason to raise any suspicion. Nice and easy."
Sam huffed a little bit.
"Fine. Don't do something stupid."
Clint chuckled at him.
"Now, when have I ever done that, Sasquatch?" he said, climbing into his rental and started the car. He could hear Sam spluttering as he did so, as well as Dean's laughter and comment of, "Sasquatch? I am so using that!"
"Hey, Coulson," Clint said easily after the older man answered the phone. He could imagine his handler's face now, all purple and angry.
"Stop hanging up on me!" Coulson fumed angrily, and Clint snickered a bit at that. "I'm swear, I'm going to report you and send you somewhere where no one will ever find you again!"
Clint rolled his eyes. There was a chance that Coulson – ever the dramatic – could also be completely serious. He could never really tell…
"So," Clint said. "I need you to do something for me. It's for a case."
Coulson grumbled a bit on the other line.
"Fine. What am I doing?"
"I need you to look up everything on one John Winchester from Lawrence, Kansas, starting from November second, nineteen eighty-three."
He could hear Coulson telling some techie to look up the information before speaking into the phone again.
"And why do you need to know about this guy, Agent Barton?" The other agent asked, sounding cool and collected, unlike a few moments ago.
"Mm, just some research for something. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."
Coulson actually growled a little bit, but said nothing.
"Just have Nat or someone meet me at a diner in Lawrence. I'll send you the name of it through the phone, I don't want anyone or anything to overhear us."
Coulson sighed on the other line, and Clint could tell that the older man, while annoyed, would do what he asked. He gave a small smile at the thought.
"Alright. Agent Romanoff will be dropping by."
Clint frowned. There was no way Nat would leave him alone about the case, and he wasn't able to lie to her. If she came, she would eventually find out about his brothers. However, if he refused to meet with Natasha, instead asking for a different agent, that would raise Coulson's suspicions greatly. He sighed. Natasha it was, then. Besides, she already knew about Laura and Cooper – only she and Fury knew about them - it's not like this would be too different.
"Yeah," he said. "Okay. Tell her to be there within an hour. I'm on a bit of a tight schedule."
"Alright," Coulson replied. "I'll get on that. And Clint?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't do anything stupid."
Coulson ended the call, and Clint looked at the phone in annoyance.
"Why does everyone keep telling me that?" he asked it, not at all surprised when he received no answer.
“Clint,” Natasha said in greeting as the older man walked into the diner. She sat on a bar stool at the counter, not looking up from her book as he walked up to her.
“Hey, Natasha,” he responded. “D’you have the stuff I wanted.”
She hummed in confirmation, setting her book aside – the title on the cover was printed in Arabic, and he wondered what she was reading – to pull a manila folder from her bag.
“Here,” she said as she handed it to him. “We’ll be able to get farther knowing what went on.”
“We?” he asked, shooting her a look.
He knew she would do this. She was curious about whatever it was he was doing, especially since he knew that she’d probably hacked S.H.I.E.L.D. databases and found out that no one had sent him here. She had done the same thing a couple of years ago when he’d gone home to Laura, tracking him down at the farmhouse.
They’d been partners for almost every mission that S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent them on, ever since she’d joined up. Clint figured that she was a bit possessive of her new partner.
“Yes,” she said simply. “And if you don’t like it, too bad.”
He frowned at her.
“Natasha,” his voice was firm, allowing no room for further argument, “You are not staying. I’ll let you know what’s going on some other time, but for now, I want you to leave.”
She glared at him, but complied.
Clint sighed. He really did owe her the truth.
The three young men waited on a couch outside of the room where the psychic did her ‘thing’ for about thirty minuets before she exited the room, escorting a man out of her house.
“All right, there,” she was saying to him. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.”
The man thanked her with a smile on his face, and she shut the door behind him.
“Whew. Poor bastard.” She said as soon as he was gone. “His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.”
“And you didn’t tell him?” Clint asked her, raising an eyebrow.
She looked at him and snorted.
“People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news.” She said by way of explanation.
The three of them stared at her, and she gave them an exasperated look.
“Well? Winchester boys, come on already, I ain’t got all day.” She walked into the other room, leaving the brothers to exchange looks of confusion before following her into the next room.
“Well,” she said as they stood next to the chairs that were situated around a coffee table. “Lemme look at ya.” She gave a short laugh. “Oh, you boys grew up handsome. And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.” She pointed at Dean, who glared while Sam smirked at him. Clint, however, was more curious.
“You met us before?” He asked her, suspicion rising. He couldn’t help it; he was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, after all.
She looked at him and nodded.
“Yes. Well, only once. You I saw from the window of a motel room. You were a pissy twelve-year-old.”
Clint flushed red as his siblings laughed at him.
“Sam,” Missouri said as she took his hand. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry about your girlfriend. And your father, he’s missin’?”
The brothers looked at her in shock.
“How’d you know all that?” Sam asked cautiously.
She gave him a patient smile, and her voice was soft as she spoke.
“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.”
Sam raised his eyebrows, surprised and a bit impressed.
“Well,” Dean said. “Where is he? Is he okay?”
Missouri fixed him with an apologetic stare.
“I don’t know,” she said simply.
“Don’t know?” Dean said, his temper rising. Clint put a hand on his arm, but his younger brother shrugged it off. “Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?”
Missouri gave him a cold look.
“Boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please.”
Sam smirked at Dean before sitting down next to him, and Clint took the chair adjacent to the sofa.
“Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!” Missouri snapped, startling Dean.
“I didn’t do anything!” he protested, and she shot him a glare.
“But you were thinkin’ about it.” She said.
Clint chuckled at his brother’s expense, and Sam grinned. He was really enjoying watching the psychic woman deal with his older brother.
“Shuddup, moron,” Dean muttered.
“Okay,” Sam said, trying to get everyone back on topic. “So, our dad, when did you first meet him?”
Missouri took a breath, looking towards the youngest brother.
“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire.” She said. “I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say,” she paused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. “I drew back the curtains for him.”
Clint pointed a finger at her.
“You were the one that made him all nutty for a while?” he complained.
She glared at him.
“You hush up, or you and your pretty wife won’t be having any more babies.” She warned him. “I simply told him the truth. Not my fault what he did with it.”
“Ahem,” Dean drew attention to himself. “What about the fire? Do you know what killed our mom?”
She frowned.
“A little.” She confessed. “Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin’ I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing.”
“And, what did you feel?” Clint asked her quietly.
“I…” she shook her head, looking fairly distressed.
“What was it?” Sam questioned.
“I don’t know.” She said, her voice soft. “Oh, but it was evil.”
“So,” Missouri asked as the group walked outside. “You think somethin’ is back in that house?”
Sam nodded.
“Definitely.” He replied.
She looked worried.
“I don’t understand.” She said, confusion written on her face.
“What don’t you understand?” said Clint.
“I haven’t been back inside, but I’ve been keepin’ an eye on the place, and it’s been quiet.” She explained. “No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin’ up now?”
Sam pursed his lips together.
“I don’t know.” He said honestly. “But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house al happening at one, it just feels like something’s starting.”
“That’s a comforting thought.” Dean said grimly.
“C’mon,” Clint said. “Let’s head over to the house and save that poor woman and her kids.”
“Guys,” Jenny said as she opened the door with her son in her arms. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey, Jenny. This is our friend Missouri.” Sam greeted her.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Dean added, “we were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time’s sake.”
Jenny looked at them uncertainly, and Dean stepped in.
“Listen, Jenny, it’s important – owe!” Missouri interrupted him with a smack to the back of the head.
“Give this poor girl a break, can’t you see she’s upset?” She turned to Jenny with a sympathetic look on her face. “Forgive this boy, he means well, but he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. But hear me out.”
Dean just looked at the psychic woman with a stunned expression, and Clint snickered.
Jenny glanced at the brothers briefly before returning her gaze to Missouri.
“About what?” she asked.
“About this house,” Missouri said calmly.
Jenny looked like she was seconds from slamming the front door in all of their faces.
“What are you talking about?”
“I think you know what I’m talking about,” the psychic said. “You think there’s something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?”
“Who are you?” Jenny asked, her voice quiet.
“We’re people who can help, who can stop this thing. But your’e gonna have to trust us, just a little.”
Jenny looked unsure, but moved backwards to let the four of them inside, and she led them to her daughter’s bedroom before returning downstairs.
Missouri looked around the room.
“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it.” She said as she moved around.
Sam’s eyes followed her, and he frowned.
“Why?” he asked.
“This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.”
Sam glanced at the ceiling, an uncomfortable look on his face. Clint couldn’t help but to follow his younger brother’s gaze.
“That an EMF?” Missouri asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen around the room.
“Yeah,” Dean said proudly, glancing down at his homemade device. Clint wondered why it looked like a Walkman.
Missouri snorted at him.
“Amateur.”
Dean glared at the woman before nudging his brothers in the ribs to show them the frantic beeping coming from the EMF.
“Does this thing actually work, or is it just picking up stupid waves from you?” Clint asked Dean innocently, receiving a punch to the arm.
“I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved,” Missouri said, interrupting their sibling quarrel. “But this ain’t the thing that took your mom.”
Clint let out a breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“Are you sure?” He asked her, and she nodded at him.
“How do you know?” Sam asked curiously.
“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s somethin’ different.” She replied, casting one last glance around the room that had once been Sam’s.
“What is it?” said Dean.
Missouri walked over to the closet.
“Not it,” she said as she opened it. “Them. There’s more than one spirit in this place.” She poked her head into the closet before removing it.
“Why are there two?” Clint asked her. “And what are they doing here?”
She turned to face him, a thoughtful look on her face.
“They’re here because of what happened to your family,” she informed him. “You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house.” She shook her head sadly. “That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected.”
“I don’t understand.” Said Sam, frowning again.
She looked at him.
“This place is a magnet for paranormal energy.” She explained. “It’s attracted a poltergeist, a nasty one. And it won’t rest until Jenny and her babies are dead.”
She looked genuinely upset as she spoke.
“You said there was more than one spirit.” Stated Sam.
She nodded.
“There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one.” She replied.
Dean’s face was set.
“Well,” he said. “One thing’s for damn sure. Nobody’s dying in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”
Clint, Sam, and Dean sat around Missouri’s kitchen table in her house, looking at the large assortment of different herbs and roots splayed across the surface.
“So, what is all this stuff, anyway?” he asked Missouri.
Missouri didn’t look up from where she was arranging things on the table.
“Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt, a few other odds and ends.” She replied easily. Clint reached over the table to touch the Angelica Root, and the psychic smacked his hand away. “Don’t you touch that, boy,” she warned him, and he retreated, rubbing the back of his hand and glaring at his younger brothers, who were snickering to themselves.
“What are we supposed to do with these?” asked Dean, watching as Missouri arranged the ingredients into small bags.
“We’re going to put them inside the walls in the north, south, east, west corners on each floor of the house.” She replied.
“Oh, yeah,” Clint said. “Women love it when you punch holes in their dry wall and fill them up with hoodoo bags.”
Missouri cast him a sly look.
“She’ll live,” was all that she said.
Sam asked the one question that all three of the brothers had been wondering but had not yet voiced.
“And this’ll destroy the spirits?”
Missouri glanced at him briefly, ducking her head in a small nod.
“It should.” She said. “It should purify the house completely. We’ll each take a floor – Clint, boy, you go with Dean. But we work fast. Once the spirits realize what we’re up to, things are gonna get bad.”
“Bad, like, throwing things?” Clint asked her. “Or bad like slowly peeling the skin from our bones while they laugh?”
Sam and Dean slowly turned their heads to him, giving him a strange look, and he scowled.
“What?” he said defensively. “I just wanna be prepared.”
Missouri hummed a little bit before she gave an answer to the oldest Winchester’s question.
“Most likely the latter,” she stated. “So like I told ya, work fast.”
Jenny shifted Ritchie to her other arm as she walked with Missouri outside of the house.
“Look,” she said, “I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving you guys here alone.”
Missouri smiled at her in a comforting way, which was fairly effective on the frazzled young woman.
“Just take your kids to the movies or somethin’, and it’ll be over by the time you get back.” She reassured the younger woman.
Jenny, still slightly unsure, left with Ritchie and Sari, taking one last glance at the house. Missouri sighed and walked back inside the home.
Inside of the kitchen, Dean began punching the wall with a small axe, and Clint stood behind him, ready to quickly shove the bag of herbs into the hole that was left behind. Neither of them noticed one of the kitchen drawers slowly opening itself from behind them.
“Did you hear something?” Dean said suddenly as his older brother placed the bag in the wall.
Clint straightened up and slowly turned his head, trying to catch a sound. His eyes focused on the drawer behind Dean, and he forcibly pulled his brother down, yelling, “Watch out!”
A knife impaled itself in the cabinet, just where Dean’s head had been only moment before. He pulled a table in front of himself and Clint, just as more knives started sailing through the air.
“Holy crap,” Clint muttered.
There was a loud thump from somewhere above them, and Clint and Dean shared a worried look before sprinting up the stairs and running into two different bedrooms, trying to find their youngest brother.
“I’ll take this one,” Clint called to Dean. “You go check over there!”
Dean nodded and took off, leaving Clint alone in the hallway. He opened the first door, finding the room void of life, and he moved onto the next one.
Sam, he thought frantically to himself, where are you?
“Sam!” Clint heard Dean shout from the other end of the hallway, and he took off running in that direction.
In the room, he could see Dean struggling to get a lamp cord untangled from around Sam’s neck, and Sam himself was lying on the floor, weak from lack of air. Clint fell onto his knees beside his brothers and lent his help to them, but it was no use, the cord wouldn’t budge.
Dean looked around the room, and, upon finding what it was he was looking for, thrust the bag of herbs into the hole in the wall that Sam had created, causing the room to be bathed in a flash of blinding while light. Once it was gone, Clint hurriedly pulled the cord from around Sam’s neck, and Dean pulled his little brother into a fierce hug, which Clint joined in after a brief moment.
“Stupid Sasquatch,” he muttered. “Don’t scare us like that.”
Sam let out a weak laugh, and leaned into the embrace.
The four of them stood in the kitchen, completely trashed from a combination of ripping open walls and the poltergeist trying to kill everyone.
“You sure this is over?” Sam asked as he glanced around the room.
Missouri looked at him curiously.
“I’m sure,” she said. “Why? Why do you ask?”
Sam looked back at her.
“Never mind,” he sighed. “It’s nothin’, I guess.”
Clint opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of Jenny opening the door and entering the house.
“Hello?” she called out. “We’re home.” She came into the kitchen and stopped short, looking at the wreckage. “What happened?”
“Hi,” Sam said sheepishly. “Sorry. Um, we’ll pay for all of this.”
Dean looked at him with confusion, and Clint knew that he was wondering just how, exactly, they would pay for something like this when they lived off of pool hustling, gambling, and credit card fraud (technically, he had the power to arrest them for that, but they were family, so he’d let it slide).
Missouri smiled at Jenny, a glint in her eye.
“Don’t you worry,” she said to her. “Dean’s gonna clean up this mess.”
Dean simply stood there, not moving, an astonished look on his face.
“Well, what are you waiting for, boy?” Missouri said to him scathingly. “Get the mop.” Dean shot her a dark look and began to move away. “And don’t you cuss at me!” she called after him, and he walked off, muttering under his breath all the while.
Clint chuckled.
“I think you’re the only person who’s ever talked to him like that and got away with it,” he told the psychic. “He must have a whole lotta respect for you.”
She grinned up at him.
“Or a lot a fear,” she responded, and Sam snorted with laughter.
They left the house about an hour later, after Dean had straightened things up and returned them to their proper place. Sam, however, didn’t feel like they should leave just yet, and the three of them sat in the Impala – Clint’s rental was parked down the street, and this made for a better stakeout – outside of the house.
“All right,” Dean said after a while of sitting in the car, with nothing happening. “So, tell me again what are we still doin’ here?”
Sam continued to look out the window.
“I don’t know,” he said in reply. “I just… I still have a bad feeling.”
“What, you sensing something, Obi-Wan?” Clint teased. “C’mon, Missouri did her thing, the house is clean, and everything’s fine.”
“Yeah, it should be over.” Dean agreed.
Sam’s brows were knitted together the way that they did whenever he was confused or worried.
“Yeah,” he said, “well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all.”
Dean huffed a little bit.
“Yeah, well, problem is, I could be sleeping in a bed right now.” He slid down into his seat, his eyes closed.
Sam still had his eyes trained on the house, not moving.
“C’mon, Sam, nothing’s gonna happen,” Clint said with a yawn.
Just as the words left his lips, Sam gave a small gasp, and called out, “Dean, Clint, Look!” He pointed at the window, where they could see Jenny screaming. The three of them rushed out of the car and ran towards the house.
“You guys go grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny!” Dean called as the three of them ran into the house.
Dean ran up the stairs towards Jenny’s bedroom, and Clint took the one that had previously belonged to him and Dean – Ritchie’s bedroom. Sam ran into the one that was occupied by Sari.
“C’mere, buddy,” Clint said softly as he scooped the toddler out of his crib. “It’s okay, I’m gonna get you out of here.”
He carried the boy down the stairs and out of the house, Dean following not long after.
“Where’s Sam?” Dean asked as he and Jenny emerged from the house, Jenny taking her son from Clint and gripping him tightly to her chest.
“I thought he was right behind you,” Clint said, his eyes widening as he looked back towards the house.
He could hear a crash from inside, and Sari came running out of the house a moment later, crying. She rushed over to the boys and Jenny, and hugged her mother. Dean knelt down next to the girl so that he was at eye-level with her.
“Sari,” he said, “where’s Sam?”
Sari was still crying as she spoke.
“He’s inside.” She said. “Something’s got him.”
In a panic, Dean’s head whipped around to look at the front door, but it had already slammed shut on it’s own accord.
Dean started to rush forward, but Clint grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Let me go!” Dean roared. “Sam! Sammy!”
“Hey!” Clint said, smacking his younger brother’s arm to get his attention. “Listen to me, you can’t just charge in there, you idiot. If we want to get Sam out safely, we have to be prepared.” He released him. “C’mon, let’s get stuff from the car.”
Dean pointed at Jenny and her children.
“You stay out here, where it’s safe.” He said to them, and Jenny nodded, her face pale as she held her son and daughter close.
Dean popped open the trunk of the Impala and removed a rifle and an axe, and Clint had a shotgun slung over his shoulder. The two of them made their way to the front door and Dean began hacking at it with his axe. Eventually, after a minute or two, he was able to make a whole big enough for him and Clint to step through. They walked into the house, looking for Sam.”
“Sam?” Dean called out, his voice raw with emotion.
“Dean, he’s over there!” Clint said to him, taking hold of his arm and pulling him in the direction of the kitchen.
“Sam!” Dean yelled as he saw his brother pinned to the wall, and a fiery figure standing in front of him. He raised his gun towards it, but Sam stopped him from shooting.
“No, don’t! Don’t!” he yelled to his older brother.
“What?” Dean and Clint asked at the same time, and Dean added, “Why?” in a gruff voice.
“Because,” Sam said, “I know who it is. I can see her now.”
“Her?” Clint questioned.
Suddenly, the fire vanished, and instead of the flaming figure, Mary Winchester stood in front of her three boys, looking exactly like she did the night that she died. Dean’s expression softened, and he lowered his gun slowly. Clint felt his mouth hanging open slightly in shock.
“Mom?” Dean said softly, and Mary smiled at him and stepped closer.
“Dean,” she said, and the sound of her voice was one of the most wonderful things Clint had ever heard in his life. “Clint.”
Tears formed in Dean’s eyes. Mary walked away from the older boys and went towards Sam. Clint watched her, transfixed, never taking his eyes off of her.
“Sam.” She said as she looked towards her youngest. Sam smiled at her weakly, crying. Mary’s smile faded. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Sam asked, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.
She looked at him sadly, but said no more. She walked away from the three of them and looked up towards the ceiling.
“You get out of my house,” she said, her voice firm in the way Clint remembered from when she used to scold him and Dean. “And let go of my son.”
Once more, Mary Winchester burst into flames. When she was entirely engulfed, the fire reached towards the ceiling, and disappeared. The force that was holding Sam to the wall released him, and he walked over to his brothers, who looked around at one another, stunned.
“Now,” said Sam, “it’s over.”
The next morning, Clint stood by the Impala with Dean and Jenny while Sam sat on the front steps of the house.
“Thanks for these,” Dean said to Jenny as he looked through old family photos from a small trunk that Jenny had found in the basement of the home. “Hey, look Clint, it’s your adoption papers.”
Clint peered over at them, a small smile creeping onto his face.
“Well, I’ll be,” he said, taking them and rubbing a calloused thumb over the papers. “I thought these got burnt up with all my other crap. Huh.” He looked at his brother. “I think I’ll take these home with me, show ‘em to Laura.”
Dean nodded at him.
“Thanks again, Jenny,” Clint said to the woman, who smiled at him.
“Don’t thank me,” she said. “They’re yours.”
Dean put the trunk in the back of the Impala, and Clint wandered over to where his youngest brother sat, Missouri having joined him in a discussion.
“Not even my mom?” Sam was saying.
Missouri shook her head.
“No.”
“What happened?” Sam asked her.
“Yeah,” Clint butted in. “I’ve been wondering that myself.”
Missouri looked up at him.
“Your mom’s spirit and the poltergeist’s energy, they cancelled each out.” She said. “Your mom destroyed herself goin’ after that thing.”
“Why would she do something like that?”
Missouri sent him a comforting smile.
“Well, to protect her boys, of course.”
Sam nodded, though there were tears in his eyes. Clint would never admit it, but he could feel the sting of unshed tears in his own eyes. Missouri lifted her hand, like she was going to place it on Sam’s shoulder, but she stopped herself.
“Sam,” she said gently. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Sam asked her, confused.
“You didn’t do anything,” Clint added.
Missouri shook her head, looking upset.
“You sensed it was here, didn’t you? Even when I couldn’t.”
“What’s happening to me?” Sam’s voice was full of worry, and Clint sat beside him, placing a hand on his arm.
“Nothing, Sam. You’ve just got some awesome super powers, is all.”
Sam cracked a small smile at that, and Missouri looked at them both with affection in her eyes. It was then that Dean walked over, car keys dangling from his fingertips.
“Sam, Clint, you ready?” he said, and Sam nodded, standing up and going to the car. Clint stood and walked over to his brothers, bidding them farewell and offering each of them a brief hug.
“Make sure you visit,” he said to them, and they nodded with genuine smiles on their faces.
“Don’t you boys be strangers!” Missouri called after them, and Dean chuckled.
“We won’t!” he called back, and they climbed into the Impala.
“See you around,” the psychic said, and Jenny waved to the three brothers and they drove away.
END