Chapter Two
Dean looked into Trixie’s wide blue eyes and was surprised to see curiosity along with the flickers of fear. “I’m Dean. This is my brother Sam,” he nodded towards the tall young man helping Honey up.
“Is everyone okay?” Sam called out anxiously.
Honey nodded shakily but her hands continued to grip Sam’s arms. If all hell was going to break loose, she was thankful that fate had thrown these brothers in their path. The young man maintaining his protective stance had to be six foot four, she thought, as he towered over her, complete with very broad shoulders and a warrior’s presence. “What was that?” she managed to ask.
“Manifestation of a pissed off spirit I’d be willing to bet,” Sam replied, not letting go of her.
Honey noticed his shaggy, dark brown hair could use a trim, but it was brushed back from his face, revealing gentle hazel-green eyes. Strong hands, nice hands, she thought, smiling at him. His dark olive green jacket hugged his frame and looked old and comfortable. His lanky frame moved gracefully as he pulled her up, dusting her shoulders off and giving her a sweet smile.
“You’re telling me that was a ghost?” Trixie demanded.
“One that’s madder than hell. We need to get you two out of here,” Dean answered, his green eyes flicking around the room expectantly.
“Oh no.” Trixie protested. “I own this house, which means I own that ghost too. I want to talk to it-”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s not hosting a tea party. It’s mad and violent and not looking to be your friend. You need to get out of here.”
Trixie glared at the tall, good looking young man, trying not to be distracted by his full, seductive mouth and the riveting dark green eyes.
“Now, listen here-” she started.
A heavy whoosh filled the room and Honey let out a scream. Dean lunged for Trixie as she felt herself being lifted up and thrown back. As she slammed into the wall, Trixie could hear male voices shouting, and two gun blasts.
Dean fired at the black mist again, and it dispersed with a howl. Honey stopped, paralyzed with fear and Sam pushed her against the side of the staircase, covering her slender body with his.
“Sammy, let’s go!” Dean shouted. “Get her out of here!”
Sam turned and grabbed Honey by the hand tightly, running for the door.
“My car-” she protested, “It’s around back.”
“Dean-” Sam started to speak.
“Fine, get it. Meet me back in town. Go!” Dean was carrying Trixie’s petite form in his arms.
Hurrying outside, he set her in the front seat of his Impala as Sam and Honey disappeared around the back. Dean got in and started the engine waiting for the silver SUV to appear, Sam behind the wheel.
The two cars retreated from Grislan Manor and headed back towards town.
Honey leaned against the back of her seat, breathing deeply.
“You all right?” Sam asked.
She nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“Honey Wheeler,” she murmured, eyes closed, so she didn’t notice him studying her. “Was that really a ghost? Why didn’t it look like- a person?”
Sam was quiet, thinking how best to explain. “Well, for the first question, yes and no. As for the second, most people think of ghosts as looking like the person they were in life, but they don’t always.”
“Please don’t tell me I’ve stepped into a Stephen King novel and that thing was something evil,” Honey shuddered, opening her eyes and looking at him. She noticed the tender demeanor and the kindness in his eyes. Safe, she felt safe. He has a nice mouth too, she thought, and adorable smile. Very white teeth. His voice was gentle and soft, but she knew immediately he himself wasn’t. His eyes held more than concern. They held pain, and Honey felt it acutely.
“I’m not completely sure, to be honest. Most spirits don’t have an ethereal form, some do. Often an angry spirit has no recognizable form,” he was answering.
Honey turned her head and stared at him, feeling calmer as she listened to his soft voice. Sam struggled to keep his eyes on the road and not the pretty, hazel-eyed girl next to him. Her shoulder length, honey-colored hair was slightly disheveled, but held back from her face with a headband. The deep red jacket set off her fair skin, and her wide eyes were intently taking him in. He had felt a tremor of electricity between them when he tackled her, protecting her from the spirit, sheltering her with his body.
“I’ve never heard of a ghost throwing someone against a wall,” Honey said.
Sam shrugged. “Sometimes they can manifest, and sometimes they can move things. It could also be a poltergeist.” He paused. “You’re taking this awfully calmly.”
Honey hesitated. “I’m not entirely a stranger to unusual things.”
“Really?” Sam looked very interested. “Such as?”
Honey paused, wondering if she should tell him. He sure seemed to knew a lot about such things, she concluded, and was pretty unlikely that he would laugh at her.
“We had a run-in, I guess you could say, when we were teens, with a local ghost, or so we thought it was, and we thought that it had possessed our friend. Later, we found out that our friend wasn’t being possessed and there was no ghost, and that it was all a ruse, our friend was being gaslighted. But there were times…I really wondered. Once we discovered who was behind it all, we just…wrote it off. It was just a scheme.”
Sam didn’t say a word, but only glanced at her again as they approached the town. She didn’t sound entirely convinced.
Sam continued to follow Dean toward the only motel the tiny town had to offer. Looked like they’d be staying for a couple days.
“You sure about that?” he asked.
***
Trixie rubbed her head and opened her eyes. Cool air was rushing on her face from the open window.
“What happened?” she muttered. “Was I dreaming?”
“No,” was the short-to the point-reply.
Realizing they were alone brought Trixie to full attention. “Where’s Honey?” she demanded in a panic.
“Is that your friend? She’s with my brother, they’re behind us.”
Trixie turned to see Sam and Honey following. Honey certainly didn’t look like she was being held against her will. In fact, Trixie thought, Honey was actually smiling at the driver!
She sat up straighter turning her head to study the driver. Not bad, she thought. Okay, better than not bad, she admitted to herself. Hot. Damn hot. His short, brown cropped hair was kind of spiky on top and framed a full, sensuous mouth. Intent green eyes focused on her momentarily before diverting back to the road. His right hand gripped the steering wheel firmly, a heavy silver dual band on his ring finger; while his left arm rested on the window. Trixie wasn’t sure if it was just her drought of boyfriends lately or what, but this man was definitely worth looking at repeatedly.
“All right, Dean whoever-you-are. What was that thing and how did it pick me up?”
“Wait till we’re all together, then I’ll explain. I hate repeating myself,” he said. He couldn’t help but smile when she glared at him. “I promise.”
***
Honey felt weak in the knees as she got out of the SUV. As if anticipating her need, Sam was by her side quickly. She was embarrassed that she was still shaken but Sam didn’t make a deal out of it. He was very gentlemanly, she decided.
“Here,” he said slipping an arm around her. “Lean on me.”
“I’ll be okay,” she murmured, but he didn’t let go. Together they walked to the room she pointed to as hers as Trixie’s.
Dean made an attempt to help Trixie out of the car but she growled at him. Head throbbing, she just wanted to lie down. He walked at her side, joining his brother and Honey at one of the nondescript motel room doors.
The small motel room was clean but unimpressive. Dean glanced around out of habit, but like all the other motels the Winchester boys had spent time in, it looked the same as the last one and the one before that, and all the others they had grown up staying in after their mother’s death. John had kept them on the go, and now it was imperative they keep moving. Of course there had been that black and white striped room in New Paltz, New York. That had been freaky. This was just two queen beds, vomit colored blankets, small table. Local artwork. It was the only motel in the town, and it only had eight rooms.
“Sit,” Sam said gently, helping Honey to the bed. She sat down gratefully and he settled next to her, keeping one arm around her for support.
Dean glanced at his brother in annoyance, and then had to grin. Yep, Sammy was taken with the pretty girl. This one seemed okay though. Definitely not buckets of crazy like the last one, Meg. More like Sarah. Classy, pretty. And she couldn’t take her eyes off Sam either. Sam needed some action, in Dean’s opinion.
“I need caffeine.” Dean said abruptly. He really needed a moment to figure out what the hell to tell these girls. He needed to spin this one and quickly. The blonde was full of too many questions. “There’s a diner across the street. Anyone else?”
Honey and Sam said yes, and Trixie agreed rather reluctantly, needing answers more than coffee. Dean, seeing she was still pale, stepped over to her and gently guided her to the other bed to sit down.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
As she waited impatiently, Trixie took the moment to close her eyes, hoping to stop her headache. Boy, this night was turning out to be mysterious, she thought. With her eyes closed, she didn’t see the soft looks and shy smiles Sam and Honey were exchanging and she ignored their small talk about the tiny town.
“You sure you’re all right?” Sam was asking her. Honey nodded shyly.
Trixie tried not to chuckle. Honey had recently broken up with a rather boring lawyer she had been seeing the last couple of months. Things had never worked out romantically between Brian and Honey, or Trixie and Jim, but their friendships remained strong. Both girls were available and Trixie had the distinct feeling Dean was used to women admiring him.
Slightly longer than the minute he promised, Dean returned and handed out the coffees. Honey delicately sipped hers with slightly shaky hands while Trixie took a first hesitant sip, testing the temperature, followed by more confident drink.
“No such things as a latte in this town,” Dean smirked at his brother.
Sam glared at his older brother’s subtle ridicule of him. Order a half-caf vanilla latte once and it was grist for the mill for years to come.
Trixie stared at her cup, thinking about the events of the last hour.
Dean dropped into the chair beside the lone table, his eyes fixed on Trixie. “Tell me how you came to own that house,” he said. His voice was authoritative, no-nonsense.
Trixie shrugged and looked up, annoyed she was being questioned instead of getting answers. “A long-lost relative died and willed the house to whatever living relative had her name. I just found out there was always to be a Beatrix in the family, but as a kid, I thought it was just a manner of tormenting me. All I knew was it was a family name.”
“Trixie’s a nickname, then,” Dean asked with a mocking smile.
She glared at him, hating that even when mocking her, he was sexy. “Yes.”
“Go on,” Sam encouraged, while remaining attentive to Honey.
“The house fell to me. Honey and I came up to look at it,” she said simply.
“How do you two know each other?” Dean asked.
“She’s my partner,” Trixie replied absently, sipping her coffee.
Dean grinned at Sam’s disappointed look.
“Business partners,” Honey amended quickly. Dean’s smile dimmed as one appeared on Sam’s. Beautiful smile, Honey thought. Simply adorable. So…genuinely sweet and charming. Honey valued her ability to read people. Dean was the leader of the pair, the tough guy. Sam was probably the one with the conscious, she thought. Dean just looked like trouble. Good looking trouble, but trouble nonetheless. And if there was one thing her blonde friend attracted, it was trouble in any form.
“We’ve been best friends since we were thirteen,” she added. “We’re private investigators.”
With a raised eyebrow and a slight tension he didn’t realize Trixie noticed, Dean commented, “Well, that explains the guns.”
Trixie nodded. “We’re licensed. I always keep mine nearby.”
“You should,” Dean agreed. “There’s plenty that needs shooting.”
“Why don’t you tell us about what just happened back there,” Trixie requested impatiently. “And why did you shoot at a ghost with a gun?”
“Hang on, back up. Honey said you two had a run in with a ghost years ago,” Sam interrupted. Trixie’s annoyance was evident now.
Dean suddenly looked interested. “What ghost?” he asked.
“Sarah Sligo,” Honey said with a shudder. Sam’s arm around her tightened just a bit. Trixie sighed.
“Good old Sarah. What does she have to do with this?”
“Sligo,” Dean muttered. “Sligo.”
“Sound familiar?” Sam asked.
Dean gave a nod. “Westchester County, upstate New York?” he asked.
“Yes,” Trixie replied, surprised. “Sleepyside.”
“Dad and I were there a couple years ago. We took care of her. Died on Thanksgiving or something, according to the local legends.”
Trixie nodded, her blue eyes sparkling. “Our friend Faye and her mother moved into the Lisgard House, this old mansion in Sleepyside, where Sarah was rumored to haunt the place. Faye thought Sarah was coming back to possess her, but it turned out to be a scam by the new owner, Lewis Gregory. He had tricked poor Faye into thinking she was possessed, by setting up recordings and playing all sorts of horrible tricks on her. We all thought she had called the spirit back.”
Dean studied the blonde as she talked, noting how animated she became as she told the story.
“But it was all faked,” Honey confirmed. “There was never a ghost. It was just another local legend, like Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman. Right, Trixie?”
They all heard the uncertainty in her voice.
“Honey, I-” Trixie hesitated. “That night, after Gregory was exposed, I never said anything, but I swear-when we were leaving Lisgard House, I looked back, and I-I think I felt her.”
“Sarah?” Honey asked, her eyes widening slightly.
Trixie nodded slowly. “But I just … thought it couldn’t be.”
“I felt it too,” Honey whispered. “But I wasn’t about to say anything.”
The brothers exchanged a glance. “It probably was her,” Dean admitted. “But when Dad and I were there, it was just a straightforward haunting. The property had been sold, and she simply didn’t want to leave. ”
“I never heard anything about more hauntings,” Trixie said doubtfully. “I vaguely remember someone trying to buy the house from the Historical Society to make it a bed and breakfast or something.”
“Sweetheart, we don’t run around advertising,” Dean answered. “We’re in and out, do what we need to and move on. Minor accidents started happening around the grounds, and then the caretaker was found dead.”
Trixie narrowed her eyes. That was twice he had called her ‘sweetheart’ and not in any romantic sense. She wasn’t quite sure she disliked it.
Honey spoke up then. “Zeke, the old caretaker, he was found dead, but they said it was a heart attack!”
Dean shook his head. “Sligo’s spirit might have scared him into one, but he had complained to the new owners about all sorts of little tricks being played. Near as Dad and I could figure, she caused the accident that killed him. Fell off his ladder while he was fixing a shutter. It was only because the new owner arrived for a visit that his body was found before it could decompose in the summer heat. The official cause was that his heart did give out, but Dad and I were sure the ladder was tampered with. The EMF meter went crazy near where the body was found.”
“What’s an EMF meter?” Honey asked.
The brothers exchanged a glance. “It’s a device often used to register cold spots where an alleged spirit is,” Sam answered carefully. Honey studied him, knowing he was withholding information.
“Getting back to my house,” Trixie said abruptly, “why would my great aunt be so hostile?”
“It may not be your great aunt,” Sam answered. “Do you know if anyone died there?”
“Just her, to my knowledge,” Trixie shrugged. “It was days before anyone found the body.”
“But they made a positive id?” Dean asked skeptically.
Trixie hesitated. “The body was pretty bloated up and rotting from what we were told. And she never had dental records. The body was wearing a long black dress, like what she was usually seen in, and she was you know, old. She was found in her room, in her bed, laying there peacefully. No reason to suspect foul play. If you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t a big town. They didn’t bother with an autopsy or any forensic investigation. The body was pretty uh…gross at that point.”
“Typical small town cop work,” Dean muttered.
“So Aunt Bea could have killed someone else, and bailed,” Sam said thoughtfully.
“Please, she was like, ninety-eight or something,” Trixie scoffed.
Dean shrugged. “You’d be surprised what those old folks can manage.”
“Can you get back to explaining who you are and why you were at the house?” Honey asked politely.
Sam smiled at her, his longish hair hanging into her eyes. Honey resisted the urge to brush it back to see the beautiful green hazel eyes better. There was more green in his than hers, she thought, and he had a cute little mole on the left side of his nose, a couple inches under his eye.
“Sure,” he answered.
“Yeah, exactly who are you that you know about EMT meters and cold spots?” Trixie demanded.
“EMF. And we’re filmmakers,” Dean said quickly. “We hunt down ghost stories to turn into-”
“Bullshit,” Trixie interrupted, standing up to square off against him. “You’re a good liar, but I’m a better detective. You wouldn’t have been in that house with a gun if you didn’t know it would be needed. Plus you know about Lisgard House, which isn’t exactly in the society pages. I think you better tell me what the hell is going on and who you are!”
Dean hesitated. He admired her feistiness. She was cute, and he’d bet they could have some fun together. And he liked her spunk.
“We’re ghost hunters,” Sam answered. He couldn’t bear to lie to Honey. “We hunt ghosts and…uh, demons.”
“Demons?” Honey repeated, her eyes wide, and catching Dean’s glare at his brother.
“Ghost hunters?” Trixie asked. “Meaning, you run around with equipment like that EMT meter and stuff, feeling cold spots?”
“EMF,” Dean corrected her. “And it’s a little more complicated than that,” Dean answered.
“They killed our mother, my last girlfriend, and our father,” Sam said softly. Dean’s jaw tightened.
Honey’s eyes filled with tears and she took his hand.
“We basically hunt them down and destroy them,” Dean finished.
“Demons. Like, spirits from Hell,” she said. Dean nodded. “And you thought I was one?”
Dean smirked. “Till you opened your mouth. I don’t come across too many women carrying a 9millimeter and actually know how to hold it.”
Trixie digested this. It was just absurd enough to be true, she thought. She stared into his green eyes and knew it was the truth. Dean was a con artist, she suspected, but she was sure he wasn’t lying about this.
“So what do we do?” she asked. “How do we handle this spirit?”
Dean grinned. This was his kind of girl!
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Author’s Notes
-a huge “Zeppelin Rules!” to my fabulous editors, Jenn and Mary, who really helped me get this on track.
-Honey refers to the ghost of Sarah Sligo, in Trixie Belden and the Whispering Witch, #33. It’s one of my favorites.
-the hotel room Dean refers to is from Season 1, "Provenance". -Sam orders a half-caf double vanilla latte in the Season 1 episode "Hookman". Dean loves to tease him about it. Well, Dean loves to tease him about most everything.
-Word Count -3,364
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