The Short Second Life of Mil Winchester - Book 2

Frontierland

A/N: So we didn't get a Watty award. That's okay. We tried. I don't need an award to remind me how amazing you guys are. And I really hate endings. I'm writing the second last chapter right now, and I'm dreading it. The firsts of many lasts. You're gonna hear it a lot over the next few weeks as we wind down, but Millers, you are amazing. Whether you're old or new, been here from the start or frantically caught up as I write or even afterwards, you are freaking incredible and I value you all equally. We've still got a wee way to go, but it still feels incredibly short. Love you Millers.

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FRONTIERLAND

"It's here, somewhere. I know it," Sam muttered, closely examining the dusty floor of the office which had once belonged to our grandfather, Samuel Campbell. "Help me move this."

Bobby grabbed the other end, and the pair heaved the desk away, revealing a small rope lever bored into the floorboards. Grinning, Sam knelt, tugging on the rope to open up a trapdoor in the floor. Well, I guess the supposed legends were true.

"I'll be damned," Bobby muttered.

A chuffed Sam led the way down the ladder, and I followed, rung by rung, flashlight between my teeth. Dean and Bobby took up the rear.

"Welcome to the Campbell family library," Sam announced, spinning around with his arms out wide.

He looked impressed, but I couldn't share that. I couldn't quite see how this place was so amazing. I mean, it was damp, dark, dusty and quite cramped. The book collection was bound to be impressive though, if I could actually see well enough down here to make out the titles.

"It's a little dark down here, don't ya think?" I muttered, switching on the flashlight. Sam threw me a filthy look.

"So, Samuel collected all this stuff, huh?" Dean wondered. Damn, even he looked awed.

"Apparently," Sam agreed, his wide grin infallible.

"Wow," Dean commented. "All right, well, what are we looking for?"

Bobby had brought out his own flashlight, and had begun - in typical Bobby fashion - to inspect the book titles, pacing slowly down the length of the wall. "Well, anything that'll put a run in the Octomon's stockings," he responded.

"Pick a row," I muttered, already pulling out a red-covered volume. It looked promising, but I was pretty sure when we spoke of 'mother', we didn't mean freaking Adam and Eve. I replaced it, and tried another. This one, however, was even further away than the last - something about something called an Abaddon. Sighing, I put it back. Moving on.

"Bingo," Bobby muttered eventually. You got something? Because I sure don't. Bobby took his book to the table in the centre, placing it down as he began to skim read. My brothers and I all took seats opposite around the table.

"Well?" Sam prompted.

Bobby looked up. "Any of you jokers ever heard anything about a Phoenix?"

"River or Joaquin?" Dean asked immediately.

I shot him a filthy look, adding: "Or the giant flaming bird." Pretty sure Bobby didn't mean a pair of actors.

"It says here that the ashes of a Phoenix can burn the mother," Bobby read.

"The mother?" Sam echoed.

Sounds promising.

"Great," Dean muttered. "Where do we get one?"

"Where do we get a Phoenix?" I echoed under my breath. "Where do we get a damn Phoenix?" Damn, Dean.

"You got me," Bobby responded. "I thought it was a myth."