ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ||ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ

ᴘʟᴀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ (ᴘᴛ 2)

Now morning, Sam is kneeling miserably in front of the toilet, his hair covering his face, and Y/N is behind him, rubbing his back. Dean enters and grins at the sight.

"How you feeling, Sammy?" Dean asks, loudly. Sam groans again. "I guess mixing whiskey and Jäger wasn't such a gangbuster idea, was it?"

"I'll bet you don't remember a thing from last night, do you?" Y/N asks, looking at him.

"Ohh, I can still taste the tequila," Sam says, groaning. Y/N chuckles, and Dean smiles in relief.

"You know, there's a really good hangover remedy -- it's a greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray," Sam is heaving.

"Oh, I hate you."

"I know you do. Hey, turns out when Grandma Rose was a tyke, she had a Creole nanny who wore a hoodoo necklace," Dean's face scrunches at the smell. "Whoo. How can you take that?" Dean asks Y/N.

"Well, who do you think helped you when you got drunk off your ass?"

"So, you think she taught Rose hoodoo?" Sam says.

"Yes, I do."

"All right," Y/N says, and Sam stands painfully, with the help of Y/N. "I think it's time we talked to Rose, then." Dean grimaces.

"Oh. You can brush your teeth first."

==

Sam, Dean, and Y/N approach the door marked 'Private' and knock.

"Hello? Susan?" Dean looks around furtively.

"Clear?" Y/N asks.

"Mm-hmm." Y/N kneels before the door and picks the lock. The three enter the creepy doll room and go to the door in the back; it's open, and they go through to find a dimly lit staircase. They creep upstairs and to the end of another hallway, into a small room whose door is ajar. An old woman is seated in a wheelchair facing the rainy window, her back to them. They approach cautiously.

"Mrs. Thompson? Mrs. Thompson?" She is trembling, staring at nothing.

"Rose? Hi, Mrs. Thompson, we're not here to hurt you, it's okay-" Y/N says, but Rose does not respond, just trembles harder. "Rose?" then, quietly, "Guys." She draws Dean and Sam over to the side. "This woman's had a stroke."

"Yeah, but hoodoo's hands-on, I mean, you've got to mix herbs, and chant, and build an altar."

"Yeah. So, it can't be Rose. Hey, maybe it's not even hoodoo," Sam says.

"Or she could be faking."

"Yeah, what are you gonna do, poke her with a stick?" Y/N asks. Dean frowns, nodding. "Dude! You're not gonna poke her with a stick!" Susan enters.

"What the hell?! What are you doing in here?"

"Oh, we just wanted to talk to Rose..."

"Well, the door was open..."

"I wanted to say hello," The Winchesters say over each other.

"Look at her, she is scared out of her wits. I want you out of my hotel in two minutes or I'm calling the cops." They leave without hesitation. Minutes later the Impala rumbles out of the hotel parking lot.

The creepy wind blows, and Susan stares as the full-sized swing set also begins moving on its own. She approaches the playground cautiously; all the playsets are moving, and the car starts behind her. She lays a hand on the teeter-totter to stop it. Everything starts moving faster, and suddenly the car revs its engine and comes straight at her. At the last moment, Sam appears, tackling her out of the way.