She’s spent much of her time since they all left with one part of her just waiting for that phone call that will change everything.

So when she gets the call about Dean, she’s not unprepared. Her calmness surprises the officer on the phone. By the time she gets off the phone, she’s not calm but relieved.

She knows he’s not dead. Not with the facts he’s given her. She knows the police have got it all wrong even if she doesn’t know what supernatural force is at work.

Dean calls her when they’re on their way. It’s been two months since Jess’s death, since John last called. Three since she last talked to Sam.

“We should be there in a couple of days.”

“You’re not just coming to see me because you miss me,” she tells him.

“I…” he starts.

She interrupts with “It’s okay Dean. I’m just glad I get to see you two, get to help. Between you two and your father…”

“You’ve talked to Dad? How is he? Where is he?” The hope in his voice makes her heart squeeze.

“He called me right after Jess died. I haven’t heard from him since. It’s not for a lack of trying. All I get is that message to call you.”

“Oh,” is all he says.

“I’m not going to tell you not to worry. Just be safe. Get here when you can.” She hangs up the phone and waits like she’s been doing. Only now she knows it won’t be for much longer.

When they come she’s walking a client out.

“Alright then, don’t you worry about a thing. Your wife is crazy about you,” she tells him with a smile on her face even though she knows the poor bastard’s wife is cold banging the gardener.

They walk slowly up the path, Sam behind Dean just as it’s always been. Dean’s head high and Sam’s low, hiding behind his hair.

They, her and Dean, don’t speak. They just embrace. It’s not long enough to get the full picture but long enough to know how hard things have been.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” she says and then “It’s not your fault” as she hugs him, runs her hands up and down his back.

The only thoughts in his head: You never told her the truth. You dreamt it would happen. You left her to die.

She doesn’t let Sam tell her anything. She feeds them their first home cooked meal in forever and then pushes him towards the stairs. He protests of course, telling her they’ve got to save this woman.

She looks over her shoulder, says, “Dean, if you agree with him, I’ll hit you with a spoon.”

“I wasn’t going to!" He protests.

“You were thinking about it.” He shrugs. “Go back to the kitchen. I can handle him.”

She does though it’s not as easy as it used to be. If he ever goes to law school, those professors won’t know what hit them. They agree he’ll sleep for a few hours and then off to the old house. Just him and Dean. They’ll call her if they need her.

Dean tells her how Sam just woke up talking about his vision of the tree in front of the old house. That in his vision he sees this woman in an upstairs window screaming for help.

He looks spooked by it all and she can only imagine the looks he must’ve been giving Sam as he told him about it.

“He’s still Sam,” she tells him topping off his coffee.

“I know, it’s just…We don’t…We’re normal.”

She has to laugh. “Oh, boy.”

“You know what I mean. I mean he tells me he’s got the Shining. That he dreamt about Jess dying. About the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything and how he didn’t do anything about it because he didn’t believe it. He thinks now that he’s dreaming about this lady in our old house that it means something. That it could be the thing that killed mom and Jess.” He stops, takes a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

“It could be. We won’t know until we go over there.”

He scratches the back of his neck, classic Dean avoidance move.

“Dean, look at me.” He looks up, face as neutral as he can manage. “You don’t have to go back there. I know you swore that you wouldn’t. Sam and I can probably handle this on our own.”

“No, I’m going. It’s just. The house and Dad.” He goes silent, his mind replaying the message he left. Dad? I know I’ve left you messages before. I don’t even know if you get them. But I’m with Sam and we’re in Lawrence. And there’s something in our old house. I don’t know if it’s the thing that killed mom or not but I don’t know what to do. So whatever you doing, if you could get here, please. I need your help Dad.

“He has his reasons, doing what he thinks is best to keep you safe.” She says the words, knows they are true. It doesn’t make them any easier to say since it’s not for her to do. He should be saying them himself.

He half believes her, giving her a shrug before downing the rest of his coffee. “I’m going to get some rest.”

“Okay, see you in a bit.”

She’s already waiting on the front porch when they pull up. They fill her in on what happened with the woman. Her name is Jenny.

Just like the last time she was here, she feels something as soon as she gets within a few feet. She just can’t quite put her finger on what it is.

A woman with blonde hair and worried eyes opens the door with a small boy in her arms.

She looks at the three of them, clearly not in the mood, clearly terrified but not about to show it. “Sam, Dean, what are you doing here?”

“Hey Jenny, this is our friend Missouri,” Sam tells her, voice soft so he doesn’t spook her any more than she already is.

“If it’s not too much trouble we were hoping to show her the old house.” Dean adds quickly, “For old time’s sake.”

“You know this really isn’t a good time. I’m kinda busy.” She steps back.

“Listen, Jenny, it’s important.”

Missouri stops Dean with a hand to his arm and steps between the two of them. “Give the poor girl a break. Can’t you see that she’s upset. Forgive this boy, he means well. We just need you to hear me out.”

“About what?”

“About this house.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think you know what I’m talking about. You think there’s something in this house. Something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?” Jenny knows Missouri’s not mistaken. Missouri can see it on her face. She doesn’t have to read her mind.

“Who are you?” She clutches her son a little tighter to her body.

“We’re people who can help. Who can stop this thing but you’re going to have to trust us just a little.”

After a moment, Jenny steps back to let them all in before she’s telling him everything, the floodgates having been opened. They tell her and the children to have a seat, let them have a look around.

Missouri’s led by the pull of that dark energy up the stairs to one of the bedrooms. 

As soon as she steps in it, she knows. “This room is the center of it all.”

Sam asks, “Why?”

“This used to be your nursery Sam. This is where it all happened.” She sees the look on his face but presses on. “I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved but this ain’t the thing that took your mom.”

“Are you sure? How do you know?” Sam asks, his disappointment evident.

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s something different.”

“What is it?” Dean wants to know.

“Not it. Them. There’s more than one spirit in this place.”

“What are they doing here?” he asks.

“They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see all those years ago real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds and sometimes wounds get infected. This place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It’s attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won’t rest until Jenny and her babies are dead.”

“You said there was more than one spirit,” Sam points out.

“There is.” It’s familiar to her. Very much so but she won’t say who she thinks it could be. It would make sense. But she doesn’t want to get their hopes up. She wants to be sure first.

“Well, one thing’s for damn sure,” Dean announces, stepping closer to her. “No one is dying in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

They go back to the house and make little bags of angelica root, van van oil, crossroads dirt, some other odds and ends. She tells them they have to be put inside the walls, in the north, south, east and west corners on every floor. She’ll take the basement, Dean on the first and Sam to take the second. It’s the only way to purify the house completely. She tells them they have to work fast since once the poltergeist gets wind of what’s happening, things are going to get bad real fast.

In the basement with its sparse light, she goes to each corner, knocking in a hole big enough to fit the bags into. In the last corner, there’s already a hole. She throws it in and a second later she’s pinned to the wall by a dresser that flew across the room.

It knocks the wind out of her, the back edge of it pressing hard into her torso. She breathes as deep as she can, pushes the thought of pain and bruises out of her mind.

She can’t move the dresser. It’s not big but the power that controls it makes it feel like it weighs a ton.

She listens to movement above her, furniture moving, Dean’s muffled voice that may be screaming for help.

The bags are what are going to save this house, this family that’s come to inhabit it for better or for worse. Still she speaks the chants she’s learned from John. Her Latin is rusty with lack of use. She does it because it can’t hurt, because she feels like she’s been pinned to this wall for way to long.

She chants as loud as she can. Every recitation stronger than the last as the once familiar words come back to her.

Then it’s over. She takes another breath and the dresser moves with hardly any effort, just the force of her breath. She makes her way up the stairs.

She finds the boys in the kitchen, food and utensils everywhere. Tables and chairs upturned. Cabinet doors open and their contents blown out.

“You boys alright?” She sees the bright pink lines around Sam’s neck, the way Dean rolls his.

“Yeah, yeah,” they tell her even though they hurt and are spooked by this whole thing.

“You sure this is over?” Sam questions.

She take a moment to listen and feel. “I’m sure. Why? Why do you ask?”

He looks around like he knows something she doesn’t. It’s quite possibly he does. “Uh, never mind. It’s nothing I guess.”

Missouri opens her mouth to ask ‘Are you sure?’ when Jenny’s voice calls out, “Hello? We’re home.” She steps into the kitchen, eyes wide at the mess, “What happened?”

Sam apologizes and offers to pay for it all. She sees the look Dean gives Sam. She tells Jenny, “Don’t you worry. The boys are going to clean up this mess.” Sam moves but Dean doesn’t. “Well, what are you waiting for boy? Get the mop. And don’t cuss at me.”

She doesn’t sleep well. She thinks about Mary’s spirit maybe being in that house. She thinks about Sam sensing something. Maybe she should’ve told him about her feeling, asked him more about his. She thinks about how Sam and Dean sit outside Jenny’s house because Sam just wants to be sure the house is clean.

If not for that, she would’ve stayed behind, tried to contact Mary’s spirit again. Really make sure the house is clean.

Turns out it’s not. Dean’s call comes early, just after dawn. He doesn’t say much, just that she needs to come back.

The minute she steps into the house she finds them standing in the kitchen looking at each other.

“The other spirit was your mother,” she tells them, all pale faced and confused. Both look like they are on the verge of tears though they would never admit it.

“You knew?” Dean asks, his voice cracking just a bit. There’s an undercurrent of anger there.

“I wasn’t sure. That’s the truth.” He looks at her like she failed him. She feels that way.

“I’ll be outside,” Dean announces, once last look at Sam before leaving.

“Tell me what happened Sam.”

With every word, she can picture in her mind everything that Sam says. How he saw Jenny at her bedroom window screaming. How he ran inside and grabbed the kids. He told Sari to take Ritchie and run out the house. “I had to stay and then I had no choice.” He talks about being drug into the kitchen, thrown around if he weighed nothing. Then being held against the wall, some invisible force trapping him. Then he sees this form on fire walking into the kitchen. He says he could hear in the distance wood cracking and then Dean calling his name. Then Dean runs in ready to destroy the figure. He told Dean not to.

“I could see Mom while the figure was on fire. Then she appeared wearing a white nightgown.”

“Like she wore the night she died,” Missouri tells him.

“She told me she was sorry. Why would she say that?”

“I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you that.”

He huffs, a cross between a laugh and a sigh. “You think my Dad going to tell me?”

“He might. When he thinks you’re ready.”

“So never then.”

She takes him in her arms, tells him to wait for her outside.

When she sits down next to Sam on the front steps and tells him there are no spirits in there anymore this time for sure, she’s hopes like hell she’s right this time.

He turns to look at her. “Not even my Mom?”

“Not even your mom.”

“What happened?”

“Your mom’s spirit and the poltergeist’s energy, they cancelled each other out. Your mom destroyed herself going after the thing.”

“Why would she do something like that?”

“Well, to protect her boys, of course. Sam, I’m sorry.”

“Not you, too.” He smiles and she has to smile back.

“You sensed she was here, didn’t you? Even when I couldn’t.”

He doesn’t answers, asks a question of his own. “What’s happening to me?”

He looks at her and she’s reminded of the little boy that would have nightmares and ask Why I gotta dream about that stuff?

“I know I should have all the answers but I don’t know.”

They both turn to look at the road; Dean and Jenny talking by the car.

“I guess I should apologize to you, too,” Sam says.

“For what?” she asks just because.

“As if you don’t know.”

She moves closer, takes his right hand in both of hers. “No need to apologize to me, Sam. I understand. I felt the same way when things started changing for me. I was a lot younger than you though.” He nods remembering the stories she’s told. “I kept my gift to myself for awhile.”

“I’m not supposed to have a gift. Hell, I wouldn’t even call it that.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Dean’s spooked and I need to talk to my dad.” He breathes out, a slow and heavy breath.

“I know. I know” is all she can say.

When they get back to the house, she’s the only one that notices something’s amiss. She doesn’t have to tell them to get some sleep. They willingly shuffle up the stairs, Sam still sad and Dean still mad.

She reads the few signs in the house, signs that lead her to the basement, light slipping under the door. The steps creak a little under her weight as she descends to find him sitting at his old desk, head in his hands.

“Where’s the truck?” she snaps.

“A couple of blocks over,” he says without looking up.

“John Winchester, I could just slap you. Why don’t you talk to your children? Hiding down here like some fool.” He’s an old fool, not that old but old enough with patches of white now in his beard and hair.

“I want to. You have no idea how much I want to see them. But I can’t. Not yet. Not until I know the truth.” If she wasn’t so mad, she might soften at the longing in his voice.

“Not good enough. Those boys miss you. They need you.” She whispers yells even if Sam and Dean are two floors away. “You don’t to be a psychic to see that. I’d rather not be one right now. All the energy around them.”

“It’s going to have to be. I gotta keep them safe until I know for sure.”

She throws her hands up in the air. He doesn’t see her do it because he still won’t look at her. “When will that be?”

“I don’t know. This thing is…”

“The demon? You sure?” He looks up then, sees the spark of recognition in her eyes.

“Yeah. And I’m getting closer.”

She understands him better now. She still thinks he’s wrong. “They at least need to know you’re alive. They deserve that much.”

“I’ll call them. I promise.”

“Just stay until they wake up.”

“No. They’ll try and follow me. I shouldn’t even be here. It’s dangerous for you and them. I promise. I’ll call.”

She believes him even if she’s not completely satisfied but it’s the best she’s going to get. She knows. Plus, she’s tired.

“Now, tell me what happened at the old house.”

They fall back into old patterns easily. When she’s recounted every last detail at least once, sometimes twice, in the basement she rarely uses, he asks, “Mary’s spirit, do you really think she saved the boys?”

She answers, “I do.”

It’s their last exchange before she’s watching him disappear into the night.

When the boys leave the next day, Dean is no longer mad but Sam is still confused. Worried. She can’t blame him.

“Don’t you two worry. You’re daddy is fine. I’m sure of it. And he’s going to call. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Thanks,” Sam says for maybe the fifth time though she’s not sure she deserves it.

“Don’t you boys be strangers.” It’s a command as much as it is a plea.

“We won’t,” Dean promises before sliding into the front seat.