Maddison Winchester: Journal 5 {Supernatural} (Editing)

11 Swap Meat: Part 1

January 12th - January 13th, 2010

We had stopped at a rest stop, and while I was waiting for Dean to come back to the Impala from getting snacks, I stepped out to get some fresh air. I went around back and sat on the trunk, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Sam wasn't really paying attention, and then dialed Nate's number. I took a deep breath and put the phone to my ear, hoping this time he would answer.

Sadly, he didn't answer again, but I decided to leave another message when it beeped. "Hey, uh, I've gotta be honest... I don't really know what to say anymore. I just really hope you're doing okay... I, uh, I miss you. I miss talking to you." I sighed. "I know nothing I can say will change anything or make anything better, but I hope you know how much I—" I shook my head and sighed. "Just call me if you ever feel up to it." I hung up and got back into the car.

Sam cleared his throat. "Still no answer, huh?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"He'll come around," he said.

"I really don't think so." I shrugged. "I can't really blame him. Jo and Ellen are dead because of us. He never knew his dad because of ours." I shook my head. "If I was him, I wouldn't trust our family either."

Sam turned to look at me.

"I know it's stupid, but I really like him, Sam..." I felt my lip start to quiver. "I never wanted him to get hurt."

Sam grabbed my hand. "I know..." He stroked the back of my hand with his thumb. "I hate—"

Dean opened the door and got in. "Just got a call from Donna..." He looked at us. "Did I miss something?"

I cleared my throat and let go of Sam's hand. "No."

"Donna who?" Sam asked.

"Our old babysitter," Dean said.

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Donna lived in Massachusetts. Apparently, Dad used to leave Sam and Dean with her whenever he was on hunts near there. She said her family was being haunted, and they really needed help.

We sat in her living room across from her daughter Katie, who was probably my age, and waited for Donna to come back with a tray of lemonade and cookies.

Donna set the tray down on the coffee table. "Dean and Sammy Winchester." She smiled at them as she sat down next to Katie. "So, how long has it been?"

"The summer before sixth grade," Sam said.

Donna nodded and smiled. "Mm-hmm, I remember. You assigned yourself your own reading list."

Dean laughed. "That's right. I forgot about that."

Sam brushed it off and looked at Katie. "Your mom happens to be the best babysitter we ever had."

Donna nodded and smiled. "Well, when I was a maid at the Mayflower, out on the interstate..." She gave Katie and me a look. "Long before either of you were even an idea." She smiled at Sam and Dean. "Their daddy used to pass through town and leave the boys with me while he went off to... work. One time, he was gone for two weeks."

"Two weeks?" Katie asked, shocked.

Donna nodded. "Mm-hmm. Oh, he'd always come limping back." She looked at the boys again. "He loved you boys."

"Did you know what he did all that time?" Katie asked her.

Donna smiled. "Little Sammy kept trying to tell me. Of course, I didn't believe him. Not at first, anyway."

"Katie, our dad, um, happened to be an expert at getting rid of ghosts. And now, so are we," Sam said.

Donna nodded. "That's why I called them, sweetie. They can help us."

"Sounds like you guys got yourself a poltergeist," Dean said.

Donna's husband came into the room, carrying suitcases. "Started a month or two after we moved in."

Donna nodded. "Yeah, first it was, uh, just bumps and knocks and scratches on the walls. And then it started breaking things."

"And then it attacked Katie?" Sam asked.

Donna's husband nodded. "That was two nights ago."

"Can you show them, honey?" Donna asked.

Katie stood up and lifted her shirt to reveal the words, Murdered Chylde carved into her stomach.

"Murdered Chylde?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "Katie, everything's gonna be fine. I promise. Why don't you guys take yourselves a little vacation, and, uh, we'll take care of it."

Donna sighed in relief and smiled. "Thank you."

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We decided to go out and get some food. Sam got us a table and began doing some research while Dean and I approached the counter, ready to order.

Shortly after we ordered, a kid a little older than me brought over our food, but he kept staring at me. He broke his gaze at me and set the food down on the counter.

"Uh, two bacon burger turbos, large chili-cheese fry, small chili-cheese fry, uh, and a Health Quake Salad shake?" he asked as he eyed the variety of health in our food choices.

Dean nodded. "I know, I know. It's, uh..." He cleared his throat. "It's not ours." He grabbed the food, and we turned away.

"Uh, have a— have a nice day," the kid said awkwardly.

I turned and smiled at him. "Thanks, you too."

He smiled uncomfortably and then quickly turned back to another customer.

Dean and I sat down across the table from Sam. Sam grabbed his salad cup, squirted his dressing into it, and then started shaking it.

"Oh, you shake it up, baby." Dean smirked, making Sam give him a dirty look. "You know, poltergeist aside, Donna looked pretty good, don't you think?"

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Dude, don't tell me you've still got the hots for our babysitter."

"What?" Dean asked and shook his head. "No. That's weird." He chuckled. "I'm just saying that she, ya know— she— she's— she's doing good. Ya know, with her husband, her kid. This whole Amityville thing being thrown at them, and they're hanging tough."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"You ever think that you'd want something like that? Wife, rugrats, the whole nine?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "No, not really my thing anymore."

"Yeah." Dean nodded and sighed. "What do you got?"

"Uh, well, that house of theirs, it's old... really old. Um, hundreds of years." Sam scrolled through his computer. "And I found a legend. It's unconfirmed, but still."

"Saying?" Dean asked.

"Supposedly, in the 1720s, the house was owned by a guy named Isaiah Pickett." Sam turned his computer to us and shrugged. He was on a website titled Witchcraft. "Legend has it he hung a woman in his backyard for witchcraft... a woman named Maggie Briggs."

"So we've got an angry ghost witch?" I asked.

"If it's true." Sam shrugged. "That still doesn't explain what Murdered Chylde means."

Dean nodded. "No, or where the bitch is buried."

"Ya know, I mean, it's a long way back, but I can see if I can find something in the town records," Sam said.

Dean shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

I looked over and spotted the kid smiling at our table from behind the counter.

"Gary!" someone shouted, causing him to jump. "Curly fries are up!" Then he ran off into the kitchen.

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