A Torn Family

Chapter 12

After we patched ourselves up, and did some research, we took off towards Texas. I took the backseat, Sam slept in the passenger seat, and Dean was back behind the wheel. I smirked at Dean when he reached out with a steady hand, and slipped a plastic spoon inside Sam's slightly open mouth, hilariously muffling the quiet snores. He leaned back to grin at me, flipping his phone open and snapping a picture, before putting a finger to his lips.

He cranked the radio all the way up, shouting along with the music while Sam jerked awake. Dean played the steering wheel in an enthusiastic drum solo, and I chortled a laugh from the backseat. I know it's not ladylike. You really think I gave a shit?

"Ha ha. Very funny." Sam wasn't amused.

"Sorry." Dean didn't look the least bit sorry. "Not a lot of scenery here in East Texas- you kinda got to make your own."

"Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean." Sam rubbed his brow. "We're not gonna start that crap again."

"What crap?" I asked.

"Don't play Switzerland, Lucy." Sam rolled his eyes at me. "The prank stuff. It's stupid, tt always escalates, and the two of you always gang up on me."

"We're your big siblings, Sammy." I teasingly cooed. "That's our job."

"You're my twin."

"What's the matter, Sammy?" Dean laughed slightly. "Afraid you're gonna get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?"

"All right, just remember you started this." He turned to point a finger in my face. "And when someone bleaches your eyebrows, you can go ahead and blame Dean for sparking this shit."

"Bring it on, Baldy." Dean laughed, but I sunk down in my seat. I would look really bad without my dark eyebrows. I may or may not have shaved them off. That was the year I learned to use an eyebrow pencil.

"Where are we, anyway?" Sam grumbled, and I couldn't help but smile. He was sporting his 'Sad Sam' face, as Dean and I liked to call it.

"Few hours outside Richardson." I answered, leaning forward in between Sam and Dean's seats. "Some kids explored a haunted house about a month ago. Apparently the spirit strings up girls, sexist pig, and the kids saw some dead girl hanging in the cellar. Body was gone by the time the cops got there."

"I didn't ask." Dean shot me a look.

"You totally forgot though." I narrowed my eyes, and he looked away. "It's cool Dean. Memory loss comes naturally with age, nobody blames you."

"Shut up." He groaned at me, lightly pushing my shoulder. "Where'd you find this anyway?"

"Sam?"

"Ummm, some... local paranormal websites." Sam stopped himself, trying to avoid answering the question further. I pinched his arm a few times, before he relented. "Hellhoundslair.com."

"Dear, god, Sammy." I said laughing.

"Let me guess, streaming live from mom's basement?" Dean added, and I patted his shoulder to appreciate the comment. Even Sam laughed along with us, voicing his agreement. "Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'em in the persqueeter."

"Look, we let Dad take off, which was a mistake, by the way, and now we don't know where the hell he is." Sam said matter of factly. "So meantime, we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out."

None of us argued with him, and even if we could've, we wouldn't have. We found the kids, and asked three of the four witnesses for their stories, all of which were different. Nothing matched up. Except for one thing. They all pointed us to one kid, Craig Thurston, and said he had told them about the place.

He told us some background on the 'hell house'. Apparently some farmer from the 30's, Mordechai Murdoch, lived in the house with his 6 daughters. His crops failed during the depression, and he didn't have any money either. He thought a quick death was better than starving, so he hung his own daughters, and then himself. Kid told us his spirit was trapped inside, and strung up any girl who entered.

We went to check out the old house, but some old power line screwed with our EMF reader. That meant we had to go inside. There were all types of sigils and symbols spray painted on the walls, many of which didn't even exist until Murdoch was long dead.

There was one symbol we'd never seen before though. Even Sam the egghead hadn't heard of it. Dean claimed he'd seen it before, and I believed him, but he couldn't remember where. The paint felt fresh, and we almost left, assuming the kids had been playing a joke or something.