Title: Child's Play
Summary: While staying at a motel in Massachusetts, Sam and Dean find themselves wrapped up in a mystery of their own.
Spoilers: None; pre-series.
Rating/Warning: PG. Lots of cuteness, a little bit of sadness, nothing graphic. Gen.
Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, and John Winchester are mine only in my dreams. They belong to Eric Kripke and the CW.
Author's Note: My first multi-chapter for Supernatural. Whitman, Massachusetts is a real place, and the Willow Motel was a real motel, but as far as I know, nothing like this ever really happened there. Baby!Winchester ages: Dean, 10; Sam, 6.

-----

The little girl wedged herself into a corner and drew her knees to her chest. Tears jumped into her eyes when she saw the man begin to advance on her. "I'm sorry," she cried, wrapping her arms protectively around her legs. "I didn't mean to be loud, I swear! Please don't hurt me, I'm so sorry! I'll be good now! I promise!" Terrified, she dropped her head onto her knees and squeezed her eyes shut, tears sliding down her cheeks.

The man grabbed a hunk of her dark hair in his hand and pulled, lifting her head so she would look up at him. Her hand flew her scalp as she cried out in pain. "Stop your crying and keep quiet," he hissed at her. He released his hold on her hair and crouched down so that he was eye-level with her. "You know what happens when you cry."

She nodded, quickly swallowing back some of her tears. She knew quite well what happened when she cried: he hit her. At least, that was what he had done earlier. Her stinging, red cheek was testament to that.

He stared her down a moment longer then curtly nodded and stood up straight. "Good girl. I don't want to hear another peep out of you."

She gave another emphatic nod--talking would be peeping and he said no peeps--and released a breath she wasn't even aware she had been holding. The man was still watching her and once he was content that she had calmed down and was going to remain quiet, he walked away and disappeared around the corner. A second later, the bathroom door clicked shut. The little girl tightened her arms around her legs, rested her chin on her knees, and cried silently. Her tears ran down her face, dripped off her chin, and soaked into her jeans.

The man had seemed so nice at first! She and Emily were playing on the slide at the playground and the man had run up to her and told her that mother was in an accident and that she was in the hospital. He said her mom had sent him to pick her up and take her to the hospital to be with her.

At first, she hadn't been sure. Her mother had always warned her not to talk to strangers and she was certainly not supposed to get into a car with someone she didn't know. But the man knew her mother's name, and when she asked him if he double-extra promised he was telling the truth, he nodded. And besides, why would he lie about something like that?

Now she knew that he had lied to her. And that he was far from nice. He must have been crossing his fingers when he double-extra promised.

She had no idea why he brought her to the motel, though. The two of them had been cooped up in the small room for a long, long time. Three days, maybe four. She wasn't sure anymore. She had tried to keep tracks of the days by how many times she'd eaten or how many times she'd slept. But the man didn't feed her regularly and when she did get something to eat, she was always very sleepy afterwards.

The bathroom door opened and the little girl quickly raised her head. When the man walked back into her line of vision, she tensed, wondering if he was going to yell at her again. Or worse, hit her. But he didn't even give her a second look.

Instead, he turned on the television and sat down on the bed closest to the bathroom. That was his bed. Her bed was the one by the door, something she had thought was going to be her ticket to freedom. The first night, she pretended to go to sleep and waited until the man started snoring. But when she hurried up to the door to make her escape, she found she couldn't reach the chain lock. She had almost started bawling in defeat right then and there, but she knew that if the man woke up and saw her trying to leave, she'd be in major trouble. She had waited until she was curled back up in bed and the covers were pulled over her head to quietly cry herself to sleep.

She kept a wary eye on the man and soon became convinced that he wasn't going to come at her. The little girl pushed herself to her feet and stood in the corner for a long moment, afraid to move.

After what seemed like forever, the man checked his watched and looked over his shoulder, facing the girl. "You hungry?"

“Yes, sir,” she answered, her voice hitching in her throat.

One lesson she had learned was that she should always ask for food. She didn't know why the food he gave her made her sleep, but she didn't care. The more she slept, the less she had to deal with the man. He didn't yell at her or hit her when she was asleep. Or if he did, she didn't know it.

"Sit down on your bed, and I'll make you dinner." The stranger's gruff voice made everything he said sound like an order. Without a second's hesitation, she took a seat on the lumpy mattress.

When she saw the man grab a package of ramen noodles, she wrinkled her nose. She was quickly becoming very tired of ramen noodles. And Cheerios. Any time he made a meal for her, it was either ramen noodles or Cheerios.

More than ever, she missed her mother's meals. Her mom was a great cook and on special nights she made her favorites: spaghetti and meatballs, pizza, macaroni and cheese, sometimes even lasagna! And her mother made the best grilled cheese sandwiches ever. The tears came without warning and before she even realized what she was doing, the words tumbled from her mouth, "When can I see my mommy again?"

The man shot her a glare before turning back to the noodles. He sprinkled the powder into the bowl, stirred the noodles and water and powder together, and set the bowl in the microwave. After setting the timer and hitting the start button, he whirled around to stare down the little girl. "What did I tell you about questions?"

One of his many rules was that she was not supposed to ask questions. She knew she was making him mad, but she couldn't stop. She wanted to, but she couldn't. "But why did you take me from my mommy? When can I go home?"

The man rushed forward, grabbed her by the shoulders, and forced her back against the headboard. The little girl whimpered loudly as her head slammed into the wall. "I said no questions!"

Fresh tears ran down her cheeks as her head exploded in pain. "I want my mommy!" she cried, her voice rising in hysteria. "I just want my mommy! Mommy! Mommy, help me!"

"Shut up!" the man yelled, yanking her away from the headboard. Shaking her shoulders roughly, he forced her off the bed and pinned her against the wall. "I told you to keep quiet!"

He held her against the wall for a long beat before releasing his grip on her. She crumpled to the floor, holding her throbbing head. She was sobbing loudly, her breath coming out in shuddering gasps. Calm down, she needed to calm down. Or else he was going to throw her against the wall again. She coughed violently, then began taking deep, even breaths.

"One ... two ... three," she whispered as she inhaled. "Four ... five ... six." Counting was how her mother always calmed her down after she'd had a shot at the doctor's or when she'd had a nightmare.

She was just beginning to breathe normally again when the microwave dinged. Her dinner was ready.

The little girl picked herself up from the floor and sat down on the edge of her bed, drying her eyes and cheeks as she waited for the man to bring her supper to her. She watched as he sprinkled more of the powder into the bowl and gave it a final stir before taking it to her. Even though she had lost her appetite after what she had just been through, she accepted the bowl and began eating. She knew better than to refuse to eat. That would only make him even angrier.

A few minutes later, she was already growing sleepy. She frowned down at the noodles still in the bowl. Normally she was able to make it through dinner and a couple of cartoons before falling asleep. Maybe it was because she had been crying. She supposed it didn't matter.

She barely had the energy to stand up and walk the bowl over the counter so the man could wash it. He was going to need it for her cereal in the morning. Then she crawled back into bed, tugging the bedspread over her head to block out the evening sunlight, and curled up in a ball on her side. As she drifted off to sleep, the image that filled her mind was that of her mother opening her arms to give her a long, comforting hug.

-----

By the time John Winchester finally found Massachusetts Route 18, it was dark. Dean, his older son, was seated next to him on the passenger side, a map book open in his lap. A quick glance into the rearview mirror told him that Sam, his younger son, was curled up in the back seat.

The plan had been to arrive at the Willow Motel while the sun was still in the sky, but things very rarely went as planned for the Winchesters. Some construction right after the interstate's exit ramp forced them into a detour, and in typical Massachusetts fashion, the orange signs directing them through side street after side street disappeared after a couple of turns. After a quick stop for dinner, the three of them spent the next two hours trying to find a way back onto their route. At some point between Dean's grumbling about the lack of street signs and John's frustrated groans, Sam had fallen asleep.

Once they were on Route 18, it was a straight shot to the motel. With his father's eyes trained on the road ahead of them, Dean allowed his gaze to wander. Whitman, Massachusetts with a tiny little town, and small towns all tended to look the same. Family-run shops and stores were lining his side of the road, and Dean guessed that they were on Whitman's main drag. He squinted at the map and was surprised to learn that the road's name was in fact Bedford Street and not Main Street as he had assumed.

Dean let out a breath through his nose and faced forward. As he absently stared through the windshield, a flash of color a little bit ahead of them caught his eye. The car pulled closer and he realized that the colors were flags flapping in the breeze on the top of a building that was shaped like a castle. Just past the castle, the bucket seats of a small Ferris wheel were visible. “Dad!” Dean exclaimed, pointing out the window. “Look! There are rides!”

John applied the brake, slowing the car down slightly as they passed the small theme park. “And dragons.” The heads of two metal dragons stuck up over the six-foot fence separating the play area from the parking lot.

“Oh, can we go there before we leave?” Dean asked, his eyes twinkling. “Please? Sam would love it!”

John just sighed. “Can we find the motel before we start planning side trips?”

“Sorry,” Dean said softly, dropping his gaze back down to the map.

John cringed at the chastened look on his son’s face. “I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to be short with you. I’m just tired.”

“It’s okay,” Dean answered, shrugging. He made himself comfortable in the seat again and gasped when a road sign whipped past the window. “Dad, motel on the left.”

John slowed down, flipped the blinker, and made the turn into the motel’s parking lot.

The red building was small and dark with inside lights on in only a few windows. Dean shuddered involuntarily. The motel, for reasons he couldn’t quite discern, was giving him the creeps. “Do we really have to stay here?”

“It’s the only place in the area. You boys’ll be fine.” John pulled the Impala up to the check-in office and turned the key in the ignition. After glancing up into the rearview mirror to check on Sam, he opened the door and turned to Dean. “Stay here with your brother. I’ll be right back.”

Dean nodded and took a deep breath as his father got out of the car and closed the door as quietly as he could. Which meant it still slammed shut. Sam didn’t even flinch.

After John disappeared into the office, Dean took off his seatbelt and twisted around so he could look out the rear window. He counted six windows that had lights on. The rest were dark, seemingly unoccupied. This motel better be less creepy in the light of day, Dean thought with a concerned frown. Though he didn’t scare easily, he was a little frightened of the prospect of staying in one of those little rooms alone with only his brother for company.

His father returned two minutes later, motel room key in hand. He plopped in the driver’s seat and handed the room key to Dean. “Keep your eye out for room fourteen,” he said as he turned on the engine.

No sooner had he pulled out of the parking space and faced the main building than the headlights illuminated a black fourteen on the door directly ahead of them. “There’s room fourteen,” Dean smirked, gesturing helpfully out the window.

John chuckled. “Yes. Thank you, son.”

John pulled the Impala to a stop just outside their room. Dean climbed out of the car and stretched his legs and arms before pulling open the back door. His little brother was still dead to the world, and the only thing Dean could think about was giving him a wake-up noogie. Or a wet willy. Sam hated both of them. Unfortunately, his father would be none too happy with either of those options, so Dean just snatched his duffel bag, his brother’s duffel bag, and Sam’s backpack up from the floor of the car.

As Dean hooked one of the straps of Sam’s backpack over his shoulder, John tugged the back door open on his side and gently gathered Sam in his arms. Dean quickly shut the door and made his way over to the motel door so he could open it for his father.

The bright overhead light lit the dark space, and Dean let out a sigh of relief. At least the room itself didn’t give him the creeps! It was a typical motel room: two beds, a television, a small table with two chairs, and a small bathroom. The counter outside the bathroom was equipped with both a small coffee maker and a microwave. Maybe staying at the Willow Motel wouldn’t be as bad as Dean had originally thought. He and Sam spent most of the time in the room anyway. They were only allowed outside if there was a play area.

John gingerly set Sam down on the bed closest to the door. “Want me to get his pajamas?” Dean whispered as he set both of their bags on the floor in front of the dresser.

“Nah.” John began untying Sam’s shoes. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to wake him up enough to get his pajamas on.”

Dean nodded and began unpacking. He never unpacked his clothes, but he did take out his books and other toys and games. By the time he was finished, Sam was already tucked in and snoring lightly. He watched as his father ran his thumb over Sam’s forehead as a good night gesture. “Are you going out tonight?”

“Yeah. Kids are going to be all over that playground tomorrow. I need to get in there tonight.” After digging in his pocket, John pulled out a brochure and handed it to Dean. “They had that in the office about the castle and dragons up the street. If I finish this up early, we can stop in before we leave the area.”

Dean grinned. “Thank you! Sam’ll get a kick out of it.”

“Sam’s just going to want to go on the Tilt-a-Whirl until he throws up,” John replied with a soft chuckle. He pulled a couple of necessities from his duffel bag and turned towards the door. “I should be back by first light. Keep your eye on Sammy and don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t,” Dean promised. “I’m tired, too. I just want to watch a little TV and then go to sleep.”

John nodded before disappearing out the door. A moment later, Dean heard the Impala’s engine turn over and the car drive off into the night. Dean crept up to the window and pulled the curtain back slightly to take a peek at the motel grounds. Shuddering again, he dropped the curtain back into place and decided right then and there that he was going to be sleeping with the television on tonight.

-----

Sam was lying on his stomach on the motel room floor, his legs sticking up into the air. He wrinkled his brow as he frowned down at the picture of Charlie Brown and Peppermint Patty he was in the middle of coloring. The book was brand-new, purchased at the last rest stop before getting off the interstate in Massachusetts. But over the past day and a half, he’d colored almost half of the pictures and he was getting sick of coloring.

With a sigh, he tossed the crayon in his hand into the pile on the floor. He pushed himself into a sitting position and began dropping the crayons back into the Quaker Oats tin he kept them in. After snapping the lid back onto the tin, he stood up, collected both the tin and the coloring book, and stuffed them into his backpack. Then he planted himself directly in front of his brother, who was lying on the bed trying to watch some stupid show on the TV. “Dean,” he whined, poking his brother’s leg for emphasis, “I’m bored.”

Dean sighed heavily and sat up straight in an attempt to see the television past his little brother. “Go play with your guys or something,” he suggested, remembering that Sam had quite the collection of action figures in his backpack.

“I don’t want to play with my guys,” Sam argued. “I want to play outside. Can we go outside, Dean?”

“I don’t know, Sam. Dad didn’t say we could.”

“But he didn’t say we couldn’t.”

Dean just gave his brother an annoyed look. Truthfully, he was feeling a bit stir-crazy himself. A day and a half was far too long for a six-year-old and a ten-year-old to have to spend cooped up in a small motel room.

John had come home the first morning to get a little bit of sleep, but he had gone back out that afternoon and hadn’t returned since. Dean wasn’t worried about him, though, because he’d checked in by phone a few times. “I don’t know, Sammy. What if Dad calls when we’re outside?”

“Please, Dean? Please?” Sam pouted, furrowing his brow. “Just for a few minutes? There’s a swing set out there, Dean!”

Dean hesitated, weighing his options. Everything inside him was telling him that they had to stay inside; those were the rules. But like Sam, he was itching to get out of the room himself. “Okay,” he relented. “But just for a few minutes.”

“Yes!” Sam exclaimed. “Thank you, thank you!”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at his brother’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He snatched the room key off the nightstand and slipped it into his pocket before grabbing a book to read outside. Sam was actually bouncing with giddiness. “This is just for a few minutes, remember,” he said as he herded Sam out the door.

“Uh huh!” Once over the threshold, Sam took off like a rocket and disappeared around the building.

“Sammy!” Dean called, rolling his eyes. He pulled the door closed and turned the key in the lock. After pushing on the door once to make sure it was locked, he followed Sam’s voice to the play area behind the motel

The red building still seemed very ominous to Dean. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened there once, something terrible. He had been absolutely sure that seeing it in the bright sunshine would take some of the creepiness away, but he was dead wrong. There was just a heavy air around the motel, and it was way too quiet for his liking. It made the building and the surrounding area seem … dead.

By the time Dean reached the play area, Sam was already on the swing set, pumping his legs hard and babbling to a little girl who was seated on the swing next to him. She was giggling shyly and chattering back, so at least Sam wasn’t bothering her. Dean ran his eyes over the rest of the small playground. Besides the two-swing swing set, there was also a tall slide and one seesaw. The equipment looked old but in good condition. Dean took a seat at one of the two picnic tables and began reading his book while keeping a wary eye on Sam.

After finishing the fourth chapter of his book, Dean checked his watch and gasped. He and Sam had been outside for over half an hour! Far longer than he’d originally intended. “Sammy!” he called, waving to his brother as he stood from the picnic table. “It’s time to go back.”

Sam waited until the swing was at its highest point and jumped off, sticking the landing. He smiled in triumph and turned around to wave goodbye to the little girl, who grinned as she waved back. Then Sam finally made his way back to his brother. “Do we really have to go back now?”

“Yes,” Dean answered with a roll of his eyes. “We’ve already been out longer than I meant to, and I don’t want to be outside if Dad calls.” He put his hand on the small of Sam’s back to hurry him along.

Once back at their door, Dean dug the key out of his pocket and slid it into the knob, allowing Sam entry. He then followed his brother inside and shut the door, locking them back into the room. Sam immediately kicked off his shoes and flopped down on his bed, snatching the remote control from the nightstand.

“Who was that girl you were talking to?” Dean asked. He sat down in one of the chairs and pulled off his sneakers.

“Her name’s Lucy. She’s staying here, too,” Sam said as he flipped the channels on the television. “She was watching me jump off the swings.”

Dean grinned to himself. There was no doubt in his mind that once his little brother had realized that she was watching him, he had begun showing off for her. “Is she your age?”

Sam shook his head. “She’s five.” He paused with his thumb on the channel up button as a Tom and Jerry cartoon caught his eye. “You think I can play with her again later? Maybe? She was really kind of fun.”

“We’ll see.” The next time his father called, Dean was going to ask about being allowed to play outside. Though they had only spent a mere thirty minutes out of the room, Sam was already calmer than before. Sam was still young enough that he needed a change of scenery every now and again, but Dean really didn’t like leaving the room without his father’s permission.

“Lucy told me about the castle place that you saw,” Sam spoke up without taking his eyes off the television. “She says her mom takes her there all the time and it’s really fun. Dad really said we could go there?”

“Yep,” Dean confirmed. He sat down on his bed and opened his book. “He said that if he finishes early, we can go.”

“Oh, I hope he finishes early,” Sam said softly.

Dean looked his brother over and grinned. “Want to know a secret?”

That finally got Sam’s attention. He tore his eyes from the television and fixed Dean with a curious frown. “What?”

"I think he's going to take us even if he doesn't finish early. He knows how much you want to go."

Sam cracked a smile, the hope twinkling in his eyes. "Really? You really think so?"

"I really do," Dean replied with a gentle smile.

"Oh, I hope you're right," Sam said, grinning dreamily. "I haven't been on a Tilt-a-Whirl in forever."

-----

Sam opened his eyes in the darkness, swearing up and down that he heard someone giggling. Frowning, he pushed himself up onto his elbow and checked the clock. Who the heck was outside laughing at eleven o’clock at night? He yawned and rubbed his eyes but by the time he had woken up enough to sit up, the giggling had stopped. After a full minute went by without the sound starting back up again, he shrugged. Maybe he had just dreamed it.

He fluffed his pillow before curling up on his side and pulling the covers tightly around his shoulders. Just as he started to drift off again, he heard the rhythmic thump of someone bouncing a ball just outside the door. His eyes snapped open. No way he was dreaming this time.

Sam kicked the covers off his legs and silently climbed out of bed. Taking care not to trip on either his or his brother’s shoes, he made his way to the window and pulled the curtain back just far enough to look out at the grounds. The little girl he met at the swing set was standing on the walkway to the rooms, holding a pink bouncy ball in one hand.

Sam grinned and pushed the curtain open a little further, his curiosity piqued. What on earth was she doing outside in the middle of the night? As she tossed her ball into the air, Lucy happened to look over at the building and spotted Sam in the window. She waved her hand, gesturing for him to join her outside. Sam giggled softly when the ball dropped to the ground and startled Lucy, but he regretfully shook his head. No way in hell would Dean let him go outside in the middle of the night.

Lucy pouted in disappointment and exaggerated her wave. Sam just shook his head again. “I can’t,” he mouthed to her. She petulantly stomped her foot on the ground before running up to the window and pressing her face against it. When she crossed her eyes, Sam could no longer hold in his laugh. Lucy pointed hopefully towards the door and this time, Sam nodded.

He allowed the curtain to drop back into place and crept up to the door. He had to stand on his tiptoes to reach the chain lock and he cringed when the chain clattered against the doorjamb as it fell. After a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t woken his brother, he pulled open the door. “Lucy? What are you doing out here?” he asked in a harsh whisper.

“Playing!” she answered as if it should have been obvious what she was doing. “Come play with me, Sam!”

“But it’s the middle of the night,” Sam argued. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Because I want to play,” she shrugged. “Come on, Sam, it’s fun!”

Sam again turned to look over his shoulder to ensure that Dean was still asleep. He grinned back at Lucy. “Hang on a second.”

At her nod, he shut the door and tiptoed over to his backpack. After a small bit of rooting through crayons and hand-held video games, his fingers closed around one of his plastic action figures. Grinning, he hurried back to the door and whipped it open. As he stepped over the threshold, he set the army figurine half-in and half-out of the door’s path. Then he carefully eased the door shut, making sure that the army guy was going to keep the door from closing completely and locking him outside. “If my brother catches me, he’s going to kill me!” Sam exclaimed breathlessly.

“I want to play hopscotch!” Lucy said with a soft giggle. Sam’s enthusiasm was infectious! She ran out to the middle of the motel’s grounds. There was no grass, only soft dirt littered with sticks and dead pine needles. “Do you know how to draw a hopscotch, Sam?”

“Of course I know how to draw a hopscotch.” The “duh” was implied. Sam frowned down at the ground. No blacktop to draw the hopscotch on, but that was okay because neither one of them had chalk. So Sam did the next best thing. He picked up a stick and began scratching the hopscotch field in the dry dirt.

Lucy stood next to him as he drew, grinning. “You can go first,” she said when he was finished.

Sam dropped the stick and grabbed a smooth stone near his feet. He tossed it into the first box and hopped the field, but as he turned around he discovered with a frown that the numbers in the boxes were gone. When he hopped the field again on his return trip, he realized why. “This isn’t going to work,” he said to Lucy. “Our feet are going to keep erasing the numbers.”

“Hmm.” Lucy narrowed her eyes and gave the hopscotch field a disappointed frown. “Do you know how to play Wet Feet?”

Sam shook his head at her. “What’s Wet Feet?”

“Well, you’re supposed to use jump ropes, but I guess we can draw the lines.” She pushed her dark hair out of her eyes and turned to Sam. “There are these two lines and they’re supposed to be the sides of a river, and you have to jump over both lines to get to the other side of the river. If you jump in between the lines you’re out of the game because you jumped in the river and got wet feet!”

“Ha, that sounds like fun!” Sam erased the hopscotch field with his foot before picking up the stick again and drawing two parallel lines in the dirt. Then he frowned up at Lucy. “Are the lines supposed to be this close together? It’s going to be way too easy.”

“It’s okay because every time you jump over the lines, you move them farther away from each other so the river gets wider.”

“Oh!“ Sam exclaimed. “That makes more sense!”

Lucy giggled. “You’re right. That would have been way too easy.”

The two children played the game for close to forty-five minutes, laughing and giggling the entire time. As the lines got farther and farther apart, Lucy would give an occasional screech of excitement when she cleared both of them. Sam kept shushing her, doubling over in laughter each time.

The lines in the dirt were so far apart now that they both had to take running starts. Sam erased the far line and redrew it another couple of inches further away, then hurried back to the Lucy. The little girl took off running and just barely cleared both lines, squealing excitedly. Sam laughed then dashed forward and jumped. “You have wet feet!” Lucy yelled, giggling. “Your heel is in the river!”

“Nuh uh!” Sam argued, but as he stepped away, he could see his footprint in the dirt. Lucy was absolutely correct. The heel of his left foot was inside the line. “Aw, man!”

Lucy laughed. “Want to play again? Maybe you can beat me this time!”

Sam hid a yawn behind his hand and blinked his eyes hard. “I’m getting sleepy,” he said, his voice verging on a whine. “Aren’t you tired?”

Lucy shook her head, her dark curls bouncing around her shoulders. “No, but we can stop if you’re tired.”

Sam nodded, suddenly very sleepy. “I should be going back to the room anyway. If Dean catches me out here, he’ll kill me.”

Lucy gave the smallest hint of a pout but nodded anyway, accepting his answer. “What about tomorrow? Can you come out and play tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Sam tiredly walked up to his motel room and paused with his hand on the knob. “What room are you in? If I can play, I’ll knock on the door.”

“I’ll be outside all day,” Lucy replied. “Just come out and I’ll find you.”

“Okay,” Sam replied, shrugging. He bent down to retrieve the army figurine and stepped into the room. By the time he turned around to say good night to Lucy, she had already taken off somewhere else to play. He could hear her giggling in the distance.

Smiling, he shut the door and slid the chain lock back into place. With a large yawn, he dragged himself to bed. Did Lucy play outside in the middle of the night often? If she did, he had absolutely no clue how she had so much energy. He was exhausted! He eyes slid closed before his head even hit the pillow and he was sound asleep in seconds.

-----

Dean Winchester was bored to tears. For the first time in … well, ever, Sam was still sleeping when Dean awoke in the morning, and Dean had run out of things to do to amuse himself. He contemplated waking Sammy up, just for something to do. Huh, he thought. So that was why Sam had developed that maddening habit himself.

He flopped back down on his bed and turned on the television with the remote control, bumping the volume up as loud as he dared. He was half-hoping that the noise would wake Sam, but no such luck. Rolling his eyes in his brother’s direction, he let out a loud sigh and began flipping channels.

Unfortunately for Dean, nothing was ever on at nine in the morning. With a groan of disgust, he turned off the television and tossed the remote control aside. He had already finished his book, eaten breakfast, gotten dressed, and even played one of Sam’s hand-held video games. That’s it! Sleepy time for Sam was over.

Just as he prepped himself to jump onto his brother’s bed, he heard a child giggling outside. Frowning in confusion, Dean opened the curtain at the window. The little girl Sam had met on the playground was playing by herself in the dirt area between the office building and the motel proper. He couldn’t quite tell what she was playing, but it looked to Dean like hopscotch. After a couple of minutes, she seemingly tired of the game and sat down at one of the picnic tables with a bored expression on her face.

She looked up and locked eyes with Dean. A huge smile spread across her face as she jumped up from the table and started running for the door. Dean chuckled, dropping the curtain. After taking down the chain lock, he pulled the door open to see Lucy standing there with her hands crossed in front of her stomach. “Can Sam come out to play?” she asked, almost imperceptibly bouncing in eagerness.

“I’m sorry, Sam’s still sleeping,” Dean said apologetically, a little surprised by how truly awful he felt for having to break the little girl’s bubble. “I can have him look for you later, though.”

“Okay,” she replied, her shoulders drooping in disappointment. “Can you tell him I’ll be at the swings?”

“Sure thing.” Dean watched as Lucy ran back down the walk and disappeared around the edge of the building, presumably to go play on the playground. Dean closed the door and slid the chain lock back into place, clattering the chain as loudly as he could.

Dean grinned when he heard Sam groan and shift under the covers. Finally! “Is Dad back?” Sam asked groggily.

He sat down at the bottom of Sam’s bed and smiled teasingly at his brother. “No. That was your little girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Sam whined.

“Sure could have fooled me.”

Sam kicked Dean from under the covers before sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Dean, I’m hungry.”

“I’m sure you are! Usually you’ve been for like, two hours by now.”

Dean set a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and a glass of milk down on the small table for Sam’s breakfast. As he sat down to eat, Sam smiled a thank you. “What are we going to do today?” he asked between spoonfuls of cereal.

Dean shrugged half-heartedly. “I figure we can hang out here for a while. Play cards or something. You can pick the game. And then we can go outside so you can play with Lucy. You know, just if you want to.”

“Dad said we can go outside?” Sam asked excitedly, his face brightening. “I can play with Lucy?”

Oh, so Lucy wasn’t Sam’s girlfriend, huh? Then why was he so excited to be able to go out and play with her?

“When did you talk to Dad?”

“See what you miss when you sleep all morning?” Dean teased. “He called about an hour ago. He’s narrowing down the leads on the thing that’s hurting all those kids at the playground.”

“Good,” Sam said with a small smile as he shoveled the last of the cereal into his mouth. After dumping the leftover milk down the drain and leaving the bowl in the sink, he began pulling a change of clothes from his duffel bag. “Dean, can we play War?”

“I told you it was your pick,” Dean shrugged. “But just so you know, I’m going to win.”

“Nuh uh! I’m going to win because I’m going to get all four aces.”

“Yeah, right. In your dreams, squirt.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother’s mischievous grin. “Just wait. You’ll see! You’re going down.”

Dean just snickered.

As Sam walked past him with his change of clothes in his arms on his way to the bathroom, Dean tousled his brother’s hair. Sam grunted and ducked out of his brother’s reach. “Quit it! I hate it when you do that.”

All Dean did was grin. “Sammy, it’s going to be a very long day if you’re sick of me already.”

Sam rolled his eyes and slammed the bathroom door shut. Dean had to assume that once he was out of view, Sam had cracked a smile.

-----

The numbers on the bedside clock were not changing on purpose, Sam was absolutely sure of it. He’d been watching the clock for what seemed like forever but was in reality only about an hour. Lying there waiting for eleven o’clock was pure torture! He had almost fallen asleep a couple of times, but each time he felt his eyes sliding closed, he pinched the back of his hand. He could not fall asleep.

Though, Lucy had her instructions in case he did fall asleep. If he wasn’t outside when he was supposed to be, she was to throw pebbles and twigs at the motel room window until he woke up. But even still, that was a worst case scenario that risked waking Dean up as well.

They were going to play outside again. For half the day, they’d played together, doing everything from climbing up the slide the wrong way to turning the picnic tables into both forts and houses. But both of them had been bummed out when Dean had told Sam that it was time for them to go back to the room.

“We should play tonight like we did last night!” Lucy had whispered. “Then we can play as long as we want!”

“Okay,” Sam had replied. “We should wait until really late, though, like last night. My brother will be asleep by then and I can sneak out easier.”

When the numbers finally flipped from ten-fifty-nine to eleven, Sam grinned widely. He climbed out of bed and dug an army man out of his backpack. Placing the action figure in the same place he had the night before, he stepped over the threshold and eased the door closed. “Lucy!” he called in a harsh whisper as soon as he was far enough away from the room. “Lucy, where are you?”

“I’m right here!” came a giggling voice from behind him.

Sam was startled and he whirled on his heels to come face-to-face with a grinning Lucy. As he let out his breath in relief, he held his hand over his pounding heart. “Don’t do that!” he cried through nervous laughter.

Lucy just giggled, a mischievous glint in her eye. Abruptly, she took off in a run towards the play area, and Sam wasted not a moment in chasing after her. She squealed with delight and sped up, trying in earnest now to outrun him. She reached the swings first and planted herself in the rightmost swing. “Beat you!” she yelled triumphantly.

Sam arrived at the other swing a mere second after Lucy sat down in hers. “How’d you get to be so fast?”

“It’s a secret,” Lucy replied, smiling teasingly.

“Yeah, right,” Sam said with a slight roll of his eyes. He settled himself in the swing and pushed himself back and forth without removing his feet from the ground. “So what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Lucy shrugged. She turned her head to look at Sam, her dark eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “Do you know how to do cartwheels?”

Sam raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her. Cartwheels? That was so … girly. “No.”

“Want to learn? I can show you!”

“Um, not really,” Sam replied, wrinkling his nose.

Lucy huffed and pouted at Sam but she quickly came up with another way to have fun. She hopped off her swing and ran to the open area between the slide and the seesaw. As Sam watched with a confused frown, she raised her arms out straight on either side, tipped her head back, and began spinning around in place. After a few seconds, she stopped spinning and dropped to her knees, giggling wildly at her dizziness. Sam laughed and jumped up from his swing to join her.

Soon they were both lying on their backs on the ground, head-to-head and facing opposite directions, both dizzy and giggling uncontrollably. “The sky won’t stop spinning!” Sam exclaimed breathlessly. “This is so much fun! I never get to do stuff like this.”

Lucy turned over onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows, her chin in her hands. "Why not?"

Sam, too, rolled onto his stomach to face Lucy. "I don't get to play with a lot of other kids. We move around a lot and my dad goes out and he only lets us go outside if he thinks it's safe. Most of the time it's just me and Dean."

Lucy narrowed her eyes in thought. "What about your mom?"

Sam looked down at the ground, downcast. "My mom's gone."

"Gone?" Lucy asked with a confused frown. "Gone where?"

He shrugged as he raised his eyes back up to meet Lucy's. "I don't know. That's just what my dad says when I ask him."

They were silent for a long moment, and then Sam spoke up again. "How come you're staying here? Are you on vacation or something?"

It was Lucy's turn to stare at the ground sadly. "No. I ... I was taken here."

Sam frowned, both at her sudden melancholy and her choice of words. "Taken?"

It was another second or two before Lucy looked back up at him and when she did, she was blinking quickly. Sam could tell instantly that she was trying not to cry. "When I was at the playground--the big playground, not the one here--this man told me my mom was hurt and that I had to go with him so I could go see her. But he brought me here instead. He was really mean and he didn't want me to talk a lot because he liked it when it was quiet. And then one day I woke up and he was gone! I don't know where he went but I don't care. Now I'm waiting here for my mom to come and find me."

"But why are you waiting here?" Sam asked, wrinkling his brow in confusion. "Why can't you try and find her?"

Lucy gave a half-smile. "Because she always told me that if I ever got lost, I should stay where I am and she'll come and find me."

Sam nodded in understanding and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence. Sam eventually turned over onto his back and rested his hands behind his head, his fingers interlaced. Lucy grinned, crawled forward, and lay down on her back next to Sam. She placed her right arm under her head as a makeshift pillow. They gazed up into the night sky, watching the stars twinkle. "The stars are winking at us," Lucy said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sam smiled. "It's like they're telling us secrets and they're making us promise not tell anyone else."

"Oh, I like that," Lucy murmured dreamily. "What kind of secrets could they tell us?"

"The stars see everything," Sam replied, his voice soft, "so I bet they could tell us anything we wanted to know."

Lucy turned her head to grin at Sam then returned her attention to the winking stars. They lay in silence, listening to the soft breeze rustle the leaves on the trees surrounding the motel, and after a little while, Sam allowed his eyes to close. It was surprising to him how comfortable he was with Lucy. Her certainly felt like he'd known her a lot longer than two days.

Just as Sam was beginning to drift off to sleep, he could have sworn he heard someone call his name. He sat up with a start and looked over at Lucy, thinking she had been the one who had called him. But one look at her face told him that she was just as confused as he was. When his name was frantically shouted a second time, he recognized the voice. "Oh, crap!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

"What's wrong?" Lucy asked, standing as well.

"That's my brother," Sam replied as he brushed sand and grass from his pajamas. "He's going to kill me!"

Lucy didn’t even have a chance to open her mouth to apologize before Dean dashed around the corner of the building. As soon as he caught sight of the two children, he ran up to them with a mixture of relief and anger on his face. “What are you two doing out here?!”

Sam bit his lip nervously. “W-we were just playing--”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Dean interrupted. Sam quickly shut his mouth and dropped his gaze to his feet, chastened. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for the two of you to be out here alone in the middle of the night?”

“Don’t get mad at him,” Lucy broke in, stepping forward to catch Dean’s attention. Her action worked. He switched his glare from his brother to her. “It’s not his fault. I asked him to come out and play with me.”

“Fine, but Sam knows better than to go outside in the middle of the night.” Dean sighed, softening now that the initial adrenaline rush was over. He grabbed his brother’s hand and began dragging him towards their room. “Lucy, go back to your room. You’ll be a lot safer in there.”

Lucy nodded, staring down at her hands.

Though Dean was trying to hurry him along, Sam turned his head to look at Lucy over his shoulder. She was biting her lip and gave him a look that clearly said that she was sorry for getting him into trouble. He met her eyes and gave her a look back that said he forgave her. And he also knew that it wasn’t entirely her fault. After all, he had agreed to sneak out to play with her.

The walk to the motel room was made in tense silence. Dean threw the army figurine Sam had left in the doorway across the room, ushered his brother inside, and then slammed the door closed behind them. Sam immediately perched on the edge of his bed, preparing to be scolded harshly and knowing full well that he deserved it.

“Don’t you ever--ever--do anything like that again!” Dean hollered. “Do you have any idea how scared I was when I woke up and you were just gone?!”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam said quietly, looking down in shame.

“How did you two even think of playing outside in the middle of the night?”

Sam just shrugged. Attempting to worm his way out of this one was pointless.

“Was it really Lucy’s idea?”

“Yes and no.” Sam finally looked up to meet his brother’s eyes. He blinked, trying to keep the tears that were quickly welling in his own eyes at bay. “She asked me to come play with her again at night. I was the one who wanted to wait so late.”

“Yeah, but … why at night?”

“Don’t get mad at me?” Sam’s voice was small, plaintive. Dean softened immediately as he realized that Sam knew he was in major, major trouble. “We played outside last night, too.”

Whatever sympathy Sam had just garnered in Dean was instantly quashed. “You did this more than once? Sam!”

Seeing that his brother was getting angry again, Sam jumped to his feet to defend himself. “Dean, she’s lonely! She just wants someone to play with and I like playing with her. She’s a lot of fun and if I can make it more fun for her until her mom finds her again, then I want to do it!”

Dean had intended to counter Sam’s points, but when Sam’s words sunk in, he stopped short. “What do you mean, until her mom finds her?”

Sam frowned and held a deep breath. Though Lucy didn’t say that what she had told him was a secret, he didn’t feel like it was something he should be telling other people about without asking her first. But as he looked up at his brother, he knew that Dean would never understand why he wanted to help Lucy if he didn’t know what had happened to her.

After another short pause, he finally broke down and told Dean how Lucy had come to be staying at the motel and why she was waiting there for her mother. “I just want to help her, Dean. That’s it. We’re helping each other.”

Dean let out a heavy sigh and tiredly ran his hand over his face. Sam rolled his eyes. Sometimes Dean could be just like their father. “Fine, I get that you want to help her,” Dean said, his voice tired and resigned. “But you can’t play at night anymore. It’s too dangerous. You can play with her all you want during the day, but going out at night is off limits. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Sam said solemnly.

“Good.” Dean walked up to Sam and gave his brother a small thwack upside the head. “That’s for scaring the crap out of me,” he said, only half-joking.

Sam didn’t even argue. He felt horrible for scaring Dean, and on top of that, he was absolutely exhausted. He stood still for another moment or two then climbed back into bed, tugging the covers up to his chin. “Hey, Dean?” he asked as he curled up on his side.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Are you going to tell Dad? About Lucy and what we did tonight, I mean?”

He heard Dean sigh as he presumably thought over his options. “I should. I really, really should, but I’m not. But if you do it again? You’re toast.”

Sam smiled tiredly. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Whatever. Just go to sleep, squirt.”

“G’night,” Sam said through a large yawn. The warmth of the blankets was soothing and he was fast asleep before he heard Dean climb back into his own bed.

-----

At seven the following morning, John Winchester pulled the Impala into the parking lot of the Willow Motel. After three and a half days on the hunt, he wanted nothing more than to sit down, have a cup of coffee, and see his boys. Jobs where children were the victims were his absolute least favorite. It always killed him to see children's lives ruined, their innocence lost. This job in particular had been especially difficult.

Once outside the room, he pulled the key from the ignition, grabbed his gear, and climbed out of the car. The extra room key was hidden among the loose change in his jeans pocket, but he came up with it relatively quickly. After sliding the key into the lock, he pushed the door open, dropped his duffel on the floor, and eased the door closed. When he finally looked up, he was surprised to see Dean sitting up in bed, paging through a magazine. "I didn't wake you, did I?" he asked softly, not wanting to awaken Sam.

Dean shook his head and gave a small shrug. "No. Just couldn't sleep."

John nodded. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

A hint of a smirk tugged at the corners of Dean's mouth. "Nah," he answered after a moment's pause. "Well, there is one thing. I think Sam has a girlfriend now."

John snickered as he wearily crossed the room, the small coffee machine on the counter outside the bathroom beckoning him. "That's our Sammy. Heartbreaker extraordinaire."

Dean opened his mouth to speak then changed his mind. The look of curiosity on his son's face did not escape John. After he returned from a hunt Dean was always bursting with questions, and most of the time John indulged him and explained the job in excruciating detail. But there was only so much of Dean's innocence he was willing to take, and every so often a job would come along where he kept the details to himself. This was one of those jobs.

"Did you get it?" Dean asked after a small bit of silence.

"Yeah," John replied. The question was phrased vaguely enough that he supposed he could throw his son a bone or two. "Someday people will realize that building a playground next to a cemetery is not exactly the best idea in the world."

"It was a spirit?"

"Yeah."

He was silent as he prepared his coffee: tore open the single-serve package of grounds, dumping them in a filter, and replacing the filter basket. After filling the reservoir, he hit the start button then settled himself at the table to wait for the bitter liquid to be finished brewing.

"Dad?"

"What, Dean?"

Dean climbed out of bed and sat in the chair opposite his father at the table. "Is everything okay?"

John met his son's eyes. Dean wanted so badly to help, to make things right, and John smiled, if only for his son's sake. "Yeah. There's just one unresolved issue with this job, and I can't make my peace with it."

"So tell me about it," Dean said. He didn't tack on the begging "please," but John was able to infer it in his inflection.

John sighed softly. He did not want to have to explain this one to his ten-year-old. He had no idea how to tell Dean that the man whose bones he had just dusted had been a child molester when he was alive. In life he had preferred little girls and his tastes had remained the same in death. Burying him next to a playground was tantamount to locking an alcoholic in a brewery.

Over the previous eleven years, nine little girls had been attacked on the playground. Not one of them was over seven years old. The town's police department was at a complete loss; they had these young, young kids, too young to be making something like that up, insisting that a man had hurt them, but no physical evidence had ever been found on the playground or the surrounding areas. All of the little girls survived the attacks, save for the first victim, who disappeared without a trace in 1978. And that was the aspect John couldn't let go of: the missing first victim.

Children Dean's age didn't need to be hearing and thinking about child molesters and kids disappearing, never to be heard from again. On the other hand, though, a fresh, uncluttered view of the case could be helpful.

The aroma of the freshly brewed coffee tore John's attention from his immediate dilemma. By the time he had risen, poured himself a cup of the dark liquid, and sat back down at the table, he had resolved to let Dean in on the secret. He only told him the basics, though, and left out the gorier details. "All of the children this spirit hurt survived and were relatively okay, except for the first one. She just disappeared and was never heard from again. Her mother wasn't there when it happened; she had sent Lucy off with a friend and--"

"Wait, what?" Dean gasped, interrupting his father. "Did you just say her name was Lucy? How old was she?"

John raised a perplexed eyebrow. What on earth was making Dean react so strongly to a little girl's name? "She was five."

Dean just shook his head and blinked hard. "Do you have a picture of her?"

John again shot his son a bewildered look but without another word, he grabbed his journal and began rifling through it for the newspaper clipping he had found regarding Lucy Saybrooke's disappearance. It took him a few seconds, but when he finally found it, he handed the newsprint over to his son.

Dean's jaw almost immediately dropped open in surprise, the color draining from his face. Just barely a second later, the awe on his features disappeared and was instead replaced with sudden understanding. "Um, Dad? You know when I said that Sam had a girlfriend?" He held the newspaper out to his father. "This is her."

"What?" John snatched the picture from Dean's outstretched hand and studied it himself. "Are you sure? This girl disappeared in 1978, Dean."

"Absolutely positive," Dean replied with a sincere nod. "I've seen her myself, Dad. I've even talked to her! I'm telling you, Sam's been playing with this girl all week."

"And she hasn't hurt him? She hasn't done anything to him?"

Dean shook his head. "She hasn't done a thing to him. They've just been playing with each other. Running around, telling jokes, playing games." He shrugged. "You know, kid stuff."

John heaved a sigh and ran his hand over his face as he sat back in the chair. This was a twist he certainly hadn't been expecting. His relatively simple haunted playground mystery had just become infinitely more complicated. "If she's haunting the motel, she died here, not on the playground. But that doesn't make any sense. The playground's near here but the other victims were attacked on the playground, not near the playground."

Dean dropped his gaze to the table in a pensive silence. When he looked up again, his brow was wrinkled in thought. "Maybe the police were wrong. Maybe she's not involved with the playground ghost at all." At John's frown, Dean recounted what Sam had told him about how Lucy had been taken from the playground and brought to the motel by the stranger.

By the time Dean had finished the story, John had reached the same conclusion his son had. There was no way that Lucy was connected with the playground spirit. On top of the fact that Lucy’s experience did not match that of the other eight girls, it wasn’t as if a spirit could kidnap a child and hold her in a motel room indefinitely.

But what had really happened to Lucy? Maryann Saybrooke, Lucy’s mother, was one hundred percent convinced that a controlling ex-boyfriend had arranged to have her daughter kidnapped. It had been a favorite threat of his, but the police were never able to find a tangible connection between Lucy’s disappearance and the ex-boyfriend. Once another little girl was attacked on the playground Lucy vanished from, the police quickly concluded that the same perpetrator had taken Lucy.

Now John was stuck trying to piece together an eleven-year-old mystery, and the only one who could possibly shed any amount of light on the events was the ghost of a five-year-old. A ghost that just so happened to become his younger son’s best friend.

Figures that one of my kids would befriend a ghost, he thought as he flicked his eyes over to Sam. His innocent six-year-old was still buried under the covers, sound asleep. With dread and regret, John realized that if he was ever going to figure out what had happened to Lucy, he was going to need Sam.

-----

In no way, shape, or form was Sam ready to do what his father had asked him to do. John had woken him from a sound sleep and had given him explicit instructions to find Lucy and ask her to tell him about the time she had spent with the stranger. Sam could tell just from what Lucy had told him the night before that she did not like talking about the stranger, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset her.

He scanned the grounds quickly and determined that Lucy wasn’t out front. After taking a moment to try to build up his courage a little, he ran around to the back of the building. Unfortunately, she wasn’t on the small playground, either. Frowning, he turned in a circle. Where else could she be? Was she hiding on him? “Lucy? Lucy, are you out here?”

It was silent, and Sam frowned. If she wasn’t outside, he had no idea how to find her. She hadn’t even told him what room she was in! Suddenly a soft giggle came from directly behind him. “Here I am, goofball!”

Sam gasped, startled, and whirled around. Once he caught his breath, he felt a little silly for falling for the trick a second time. “I told you not to do that!”

Lucy allowed a mischievous grin before quickly turning serious. “You didn’t get in too much trouble last night, did you?”

“No,” Sam answered with a half-hearted shrug.

She smiled as her muscles visibly relaxed in relief. “Oh, good.”

A pang of guilt cramped Sam’s stomach. She had been so worried about him. How could he, in good conscience, ask her what he was supposed to ask her? It was going to make her too upset, too sad. He held her gaze for a long moment then broke eye contact and dejectedly walked over to the swings. No. He couldn’t do this. It was mean. He sat down in the right swing and didn’t lift his gaze from the ground.

Lucy wrinkled her brow at him. It was unlike him to be so quiet. After a second or two, she planted herself in the other swing and gently tapped his foot with hers.

Sam finally looked up at her, smiled, and kicked her foot back. “My dad came back this morning,” he spoke up sadly. “We’re going to have to leave soon.”

A loud gasped escaped Lucy’s lips. “No! I don’t want you to leave!” Her voice was verging on a whine. “You can’t leave!”

“I don’t want to leave, either” Sam mumbled. He closed his eyes and tried again to build up his courage. His father had a reason for wanting to know what had happened to Lucy, after all. The fact that Sam didn’t know what that reason was didn’t matter. He let out a nervous breath as he opened his eyes. “Hey, Lucy? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she said, shrugging.

He paused another moment then spoke up shyly. “What happened when the man took you?”

Immediately, Lucy dropped her gaze to her lap. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Guilt churned in Sam’s stomach. No. This was cruel. “I-I don’t want to make you sad, Lucy, but my dad thinks if he knows what happened to you, he can help you.”

“Help me how?” Lucy asked, her voice soft, meek.

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted, shrugging slightly, “but my dad helps people all the time, so if he thinks he can help, he probably can.”

Lucy nodded. Maybe Sam’s dad could make her mom come find her! After a long pause, she lifted her head and met Sam’s eyes, blinking back tears. “I was at my friend Emily’s house and we begged her mom to take us to the playground. We were going to play hide and seek but this man came up to me and asked if Maryann Saybrooke was my mom. When I said yes, he told me that she was in an accident and he was going to take me to the hospital so I could see her. Emily told me not to go, but I went anyway because I thought my mom was hurt!”

Her voice cracked and she stopped talking. Suddenly antsy, she stood up from the swing and wandered a few feet away, closer to the picnic tables. She flopped down on the ground and tucked her knees up underneath herself. Sam followed suit, taking a seat on the ground in front of her.

She didn’t look up at Sam. Instead she busied herself with running her fingers through the dirt by her feet. “He didn’t take me to the hospital. He took me here. We went into a room and he gave me some food. A bowl of Cheerios. It tasted funny but when I told him that, he yelled at me and told me to eat it anyway. I started getting scared then. After I ate the Cheerios I started getting really tired and I kept trying to stay awake because he kept telling me we’d go see my mom soon, but I fell asleep anyway.”

After another moment’s pause, she raised her eyes to meet Sam’s and sniffled back tears. “After I woke up, I asked him when we were going to see my mom, but he just kept telling me to be quiet. That was when I figured out that he was lying and that my mom wasn’t hurt at all. He was very mean. He didn’t let me talk much and if I got too loud, he hit me.”

Sam regarded the little girl in awe, his jaw dropping open slightly. Poor Lucy! No wonder she didn’t want to talk about it.

But Lucy found now that she couldn’t stop talking about it. She was on a roll. Perhaps she’d needed to get the story out more than she’d realized. “The last day was the worst day. I was hungry and tired and I missed my mom and I was yelling and crying. He hit me and pushed me against the wall. When it was dinnertime, he gave me ramen but it tasted funnier than normal. I got sleepier than normal, too. I went to sleep and when I woke up, he was gone! I was so excited!”

Sam smiled at her.

“I was gone so long and I knew my mom would be looking for me so I stayed here like she told me to. She just has to find me and then I can go home.” A small smile formed on her lips. “Oh, Sam, I can’t wait to go home.”

Sam grinned back, hoping to comfort her. “I hope she comes for you soon.”

Lucy pushed herself to her feet and brushed her dark hair out of her eyes. Once her hands stopped trembling a few seconds later, she was rid of all the visible signs of her trauma. “Can we play now? I want to play on the slide again like we were doing yesterday.”

Sam stood as well and brushed the dirt from his jeans. “Actually, I have to go back and tell my dad what you told me so he can help you. I’ll be right back, though. Can you wait a few minutes?”

Shrugging, she gave him a slight nod. “Yeah, sure.”

The pained look on Lucy’s face and the tears in her eyes made him hesitate. It was bad enough that he’d made her talk about the stranger. Now he was leaving her alone? It didn’t seem right, but his father had given him strict orders. He gave her a calm smile and began running back to his room.

“Sam?” Lucy called from behind him.

He paused in his tracks and turned to face her. “What?”

“You promise me you’ll come back out to play before you leave?”

Sam frowned in confusion but he nodded anyway. “I promise.”

Lucy waited for a second before giving him a sad half-smile. “Okay.” She turned around and ran back to the swing set.

Sam watched her for a long moment, wondering why she had made him promise to come back, then resumed his return to the room. The sooner he told his father what Lucy had been through, the sooner he could get back outside the play with her. And he had every intention of spending every possible second with her until it was time for him to leave.

-----

John listened intently as Sam related the details of Lucy's abduction, how the man had held her for days, and how he had hit her when she spoke. When Sam was finished, any shred of doubt John may have had was gone: the haunting at the Willow Motel was in fact completely separate from the haunting that had brought him to Massachusetts in the first place. It had been a long time since he'd had a two-for-one hunt.

As much as it pained him to send his son back outside to play with a ghost, that was exactly what he did. "Thank you, Sammy. You can go out and play now."

Sam grinned widely, the twinkle in his eyes the only gratitude John needed, and rushed outside. Before he had even closed the door, he was already calling for Lucy. Dean looked from the door to his father and frowned, his eyes asking why John had sent Sam from the room. "He doesn't need to hear this," John replied.

Dean nodded in understanding and sat back down at the small table. "What do you think really happened to her, Dad?

Piecing together an eleven-year-old mystery with third-hand information from a distraught mother and the word of a five-year-old filtered through a six-year-old was not going to be an easy task. John closed his eyes in thought. "Sounds like he was drugging her," he said pensively. "She said her food tasted funny and she was always tired after she ate. He was drugging her food."

Dean wrinkled his brow and shifted in his chair. "Why?"

"To keep her quiet, maybe?" John replied, shrugging. "He wanted her quiet. Doesn't sound like he had much patience for a five-year-old."

"But ... why would someone kidnap a little kid if they don't have patience for kids?"

Dean had a point. But in order to address it, they were going to have to figure out why Lucy had been taken in the first place. It didn't seem as if the abduction was about violence. The stranger seemed more aggravated by Lucy than anything, and though he had hit her, it seemed to stem mostly from an inability to handle children than a desire or need to harm a child. Lucy's mother never received a random demand, either, so the abduction wasn't about money.

The only option that made any kind of sense was that Maryann Saybrooke was indeed correct and that the ex-boyfriend had made good on the threat to take Lucy. The man who had taken her could have been a friend of the ex or even a stranger he had hired to do the job. And the fact that the police had never been able to connect her ex to the abduction just meant that he had covered his tracks well.

The plan couldn't have been to kill Lucy because the stranger wouldn't have held her in the motel room for days on end before taking her life. The plan must have been to keep Lucy hidden and then release her a few days later as a way for the ex to exert control over Maryann. Of course, how Lucy wound up dead in the end was still a mystery.

The details were swimming through John's head and suddenly, something clicked. "He wasn't supposed to kill her. It was an accident."

Dean raised an eyebrow at his father. "How do you figure?"

"He had to have overdosed her by accident. The last meal he gave her tasted weirder than normal and she got sleepier than normal. He put too much of the sedative in her food and it killed her."

"And she said that when she woke up after that, he was gone," Dean continued as he caught onto his father's train of thought. "He didn't go anywhere. She just didn't really wake up!"

"Exactly."

"I knew this place gave me the creeps for a reason," Dean said, his voice a disbelieving whisper. "I knew something had happened here!"

John sighed as he sat back in his chair at the table. What would the stranger's next move have been? He would have had to get rid of the body, obviously. But where? Perhaps he had buried her in the expanse of pine trees surrounding the motel. Perhaps not. "The police never found her, and he could have hidden her anywhere. We can't salt and burn her remains if we can't find them."

Dean bit his lip and looked down at the table. Lucy was too adamant about staying at the motel to leave willingly, and they couldn't force her into crossing over. Lucy Saybrooke was going to continue to play her childhood games on the grounds of the Willow Motel, waiting an eternity for her mother to come for her. Suddenly, Dean gasped. That was the answer! "Dad, she thinks she's lost!"

"What?"

"She told Sam that her mother told her that if she got lost, she should stay where she is and her mother would find her," Dean explained excitedly. "That's why she's staying here! She's waiting for her mother to find her."

A slight grin began playing across John's lips. "We don't need to burn her remains. We just need to convince her that mother has finally come for her. Good job, son."

Dean grinned widely, proud of himself for solving such a large piece of the mystery. "Thank you." After taking a second to reflect, though, his smile quickly turned into a disappointed frown. "But we're strangers. She's not going to listen to us."

John nodded pensively. A stranger had violated Lucy's sense of trust. There was no way she was going to take John or even Dean at their word simply because she didn't know them. The only Winchester Lucy trusted enough to take at his word was Sam.

John scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. They had only one option. "We have to let Sam do it," he ruefully replied. "I wish there was another way, but there's not. Sam has to do it."

-----

Sam came to the quick conclusion that the next time he and Lucy played Tag, she was going to have to be It first. He had volunteered to be It first this game and he was beginning to regret it. She was too good! Every time he came close to catching her, she'd somehow dart out of the way at the last second. "Lucy!" Sam whined as she dodged him again.

Lucy giggled. "I forgot to tell you that I'm really good at this game!" she teased as she ran under the slide.

"Yeah, you did," Sam said in between heavy breaths. He stopped running and made a T with his hands for a timeout. Lucy stepped out from underneath the slide as Sam rested his hands on his knees and leaned forward, trying to catch his breath. "How are you not tired?" he asked, looking up at his playmate.

Lucy just shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm really good at the game?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Sam teased, rolling his eyes.

Lucy was scrambling to come up with a retort and was interrupted by someone calling Sam's name.

Sam groaned and turned around, following the sound of his brother's voice. Dean was standing next to the building, waving his brother towards him. "What now?!" Sam cried.

"Just come here!" Dean yelled.

Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to Lucy, who just pouted at him in disappointment. This was so completely unfair! It was bad enough that they had to leave soon and he'd never see Lucy again, and now he was supposed to leave her again? But he knew better than disobey his brother. Dean had dirt on him and could easily tell their dad about Sam and Lucy's midnight adventures. "I have to go see what he wants. I'll be back out as soon as I can."

Lucy frowned at him. "You promise?"

"Promise," he replied, drawing an X across his chest with one finger. Once Lucy nodded, Sam hurried up to his brother. The look on his face purely said that whatever Dean wanted had better be worth it. "What is it now?"

"Just come on." Dean took his brother's hand and tugged in an attempt to hurry him along. The brothers were going back to the motel room. "Dad wants to talk to you about something."

Dean's hurried demeanor was making Sam nervous. "Am I in trouble?"

"No." A couple seconds later, Dean grasped the door knob and turned it, then stepped aside to let Sam enter the room in front of him. A suddenly anxious Sam stepped over the threshold and he could tell just by the look on his father's face that this was not going to be a fun conversation.

"Sit down, Sammy," John said quietly, nodding his head towards Sam's bed.

Yeah, that didn't sound good at all. As Sam perched stiffly on the edge of the bed, Dean took a seat behind him and John repositioned his chair so that he was looking directly into Sam's eyes. "I want to talk to you about Lucy."

Immediately, Sam tensed and glared daggers over his shoulder at Dean. He had promised that Sam wasn't in trouble! Dean gave a quick, slight shake of his head to let his brother know that he hadn't said anything that would get Sam into trouble. Swallowing hard, Sam returned his attention to his father. "What about her?"

John leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. Oh, what he would have given not to be the one who had to break this news to his six-year-old son. "Eleven years ago, a man kidnapped a little girl from the playground and took her to this motel. Whenever he gave her something to eat, he gave her some medicine that made her sleep a lot. One time he accidentally gave her too much of the medicine and when the little girl went to sleep, she didn't wake up again."

Sam frowned. The story was sad, but so far it hadn't had anything to do with Lucy.

Upon seeing the puzzlement on his son's face, John gently connected the dots for him. "That man was the mean man Lucy told you about, and that little girl was Lucy."

Immediately, Sam shook his head. That wasn't right at all. His dad was wrong. "But Lucy did wake up, Dad. She told me so. And besides, she's only five! She couldn't have been kidnapped eleven years ago."

"No, Sammy, she didn't wake up."

"But she said she woke up! She said she woke up and he was gone!"

"She only thought she woke up, and she only thought he was gone."

Sam shook his head, absolutely refusing to believe that what his father said was true. John had been anticipating this. With a soft sigh, he turned in the chair and reached for his journal, which was still resting on the table. He pulled out the newspaper clipping with Lucy's picture and after folding it a couple of times so that Sam couldn't read the article, he handed it to his son.

Sam gingerly took the piece of paper from his father's hand. The little girl in the picture was definitely Lucy, but the picture was taken when she still had all her baby teeth. She had excitedly told Sam about how one of her front teeth had fallen out a couple of days before she was taken. "Th-this is Lucy," Sam shakily admitted.

John reached forward and pointed to the top of the page. "Look at the date, Sammy."

When John moved his hand out of the way, Sam squinted at the corner of the paper. April 15,1978. "But ... this can't be right. It's not right."

"Sam, think about it," Dean spoke up gently. "Did you ever touch her? Did she ever touch you? When she was on the swing, was she ever actually swinging or was she just sitting there?"

A pit formed in Sam's stomach as he realized that his brother was right. He and Lucy had never made physical contact with each other, and she had never interacted with anything directly. Sam had always been the one drawing lines in the dirt or swinging the jump rope. And it suddenly made sense why Lucy would play outside in the middle of the night and why she was never tired.

But no. Sam didn't want to believe it. Lucy wasn't a ghost. She just wasn't! "But she's not mean, Dad," he said quietly, his eyes searching his father's. "She's not mean."

John sighed softly as he slipped the newspaper clipping from Sam's fingers. "Sam, they're not always mean. Sometimes ... sometimes they just get lost."

Sam tore his eyes from his father's and instead fixed his gaze on the floor. He knew enough about ghosts to know the difference between a ghost and a live person. Why hadn't he realized from the beginning that Lucy was a ghost?

"Sammy, you okay?"

Sam wasn't sure how to answer his father's question, so he just shrugged. Truthfully, he was not okay at all. His thoughts were racing and questions were tumbling around in his mind and his stomach was in knots and his best friend was a ghost. He was nowhere near okay. He felt Dean slide a hand onto his shoulder and squeeze comfortingly. When Sam finally looked up at John, tears were brimming in his eyes. "What are we going to do? We can't just leave her here."

"Lucy lived right here in town. Her house is actually just down the street, near the big playground." Luckily for the Winchesters, Maryann Saybrooke hadn't had the heart to move out of the home she'd shared with her daughter. "You're going to tell Lucy that her mother called the check-in office and told her to go home. You'll walk her home with Dean following behind you just to make sure everything goes okay. If Dean and I are right, once she gets home and isn't 'lost' anymore, she'll move on."

"No," Sam said as he adamantly shook his head. "Y-you want me to lie to her! I can't lie to her, Dad. I can't."

"You'll be lying to her to help her, Sam," Dean assured him. "She doesn't know she's a ghost and it's easier for her if we don't tell her the truth."

John's head was pounding as he tried to come to terms with how unfair it was to put this kind of responsibility on a six-year-old's shoulders. "Sammy, I wish it didn't have to be this way. But this little girl deserves to rest and the only one of us she's going to trust it you."

Lucy didn't deserve to spend an eternity on the motel grounds, waiting for something that was never going to happen. She deserved to be happy and carefree and a kid. She was his best friend and Sam wanted more than anything to help her, no matter what it entailed. He took a deep breath and held it. After slowly letting the breath out, he stood and set his shoulders. "When do we start?"

-----

Sam leaned back against the red clapboard of the motel’s exterior, taking a deep breath in an attempt to prepare himself for what he was about to do. In a few minutes, he was going to have to lie to Lucy. He was going to have to tell his best friend that her mother had finally called for even though she really hadn’t. Sam felt that the lie was rather mean, but he did understand that lying to her was better than telling her the truth. He really didn’t want to have to explain to her that the stranger had really killed her years ago and that she was a ghost.

Sam inhaled once more through his nose then forced himself to walk around the corner of the building. Lucy wasn’t at the slide, nor was she on the swings. “Lucy!” he called. Where was she now?

Everything was silent for a minute, then Lucy exclaimed from behind him, “Gotcha!”

Sam was not startled this time and turned to smile at her. He suddenly understood how she had been able to sneak up behind him so easily.

“You’re back!” she cried.

Why did she have to be so happy to see him? “Yeah, I am,” he answered, his breath hitching in his throat. Don’t think about it, he commanded himself. Just do it. Don’t think about it.

He didn't think. “Guess what!” he said, hoping he sounded convincingly excited. “I have some good news for you!”

“What is it?” Lucy asked, fixing a confused stare on Sam.

“I was in the office with my dad just now, and your mom called to see if you were here. She said she wanted you to come home right now.”

“She did?” Lucy asked, a delighted smile slowly spreading across her face. “I knew she’d come for me, Sam! I told you she would!”

A knot formed in Sam’s stomach when he saw how absolutely thrilled she was. This was so cruel. “You did tell me so! My dad said I could walk you home, if you want to go now. Do you know how to get to your house from here?”

“Yes!” Lucy exclaimed, grinning widely. “Well, I mean, I think so! I know how to get to my house from the playground and I think the playground’s just down the street.”

She was absolutely ecstatic. Sam was trying to be happy for her, but he couldn’t get over the fact that none of it was true.

“Come on, Sam!” Lucy took off in a run. “I want to go home! I want to see my mom!”

“Hey, wait for me!” Sam ran after the little girl and caught up with her as she was leaving the motel grounds.

As the two of them stepped onto the sidewalk, Sam looked over his shoulder to make certain that Dean was in fact following them. Dean, who was trailing a few paces behind Sam and Lucy, gave his brother a small wave. Sam nodded almost imperceptibly, enough to let Dean know that he saw him, then faced front, turning his attention to Lucy.

It was still hard for him to believe that she was a ghost. She looked and sounded perfectly real. He caught himself staring and he quickly lowered his gaze to the ground. He didn’t want her to see him staring at her because she’d want to know why, and he couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t make her suspicious now. They were almost home-free.

“You know what I’m going to do first?” Lucy asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of them. “I’m going to give my mom a great big hug and tell her I’m so sorry for leaving with that man because she told me never ever to go places with strangers. And then I’m going to ask her if we can go to the movies, just her and me. She promised she’d take me to see Pete’s Dragon.”

Sam inhaled sharply. That was the first she’d said anything that proved she was from another time. Pete’s Dragon wasn’t in the movie theaters anymore. Actually, Sam knew it was already out on video because his dad had rented it for him once. Lucy, somewhat confused by Sam’s silence, turned her head to meet his gaze. When he saw the excited twinkle in her eyes, he forced a smile for her sake. “That sounds like a great plan.”

Soon the sounds of children playing filled the air and Sam could see that they were approaching a playground. Beyond the wooden play structures, Sam spotted the thin headstones of an old cemetery. This must be the playground, he thought. The one Lucy disappeared from and the one that had been haunted by … whatever his dad had taken care of the night before.

“Sam?”

Lucy’s voice startled Sam back to reality. “What?”

Abruptly, the little girl stopped walked and instead planted herself on one of the benches outside the play area. With a puzzled frown, Sam sat down next to her.

Something was wrong. She was no longer excited, and for only the third time since Sam had met her, she was on the verge of tears. “I’m not going to see you again after this, am I?”

Sam shook his head, letting out a sad sigh. “No, I don’t think so.”

Lucy nodded and bit her trembling lower lip. “I’m going to miss you. You’re my best friend ever.”

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Sam replied, clearing his throat so he wouldn’t sound upset.

The reality of the situation was beginning to dawn on him. Once he walked her back to her house, Lucy was going to go … somewhere. He didn’t know exactly where she would go, but he was almost a hundred percent sure that she would disappear forever.

Lucy would never have a sixth birthday. She would never get to give her mother that huge hug or see Pete’s Dragon. And Lucy’s poor mother! Lucy’s mom would never know what really happened to her daughter. Lucy had done absolutely nothing to deserve what had happened to her, and it was all so unfair, and it was beginning to make Sam angry.

Lucy shifted position on the bench so that she was sitting sideways. “I’m never ever ever going to forget you,” she said quietly before leaning forward and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

The kiss felt like nothing more than a soft breeze on his face, and Sam immediately felt his cheeks blush furiously. Knowing that Dean had almost certainly seen her kiss him didn’t help. He gave her a shy smile in return. “I’m never going to forget you, either.”

Lucy smiled and stared into Sam's eyes for a long second, then reluctantly stood and continued walking towards the cemetery.

She led Sam past two side streets and then turned down a third one, just beyond the graveyard. Sam counted five houses as they walked past and Lucy stopped in front of the walk of the sixth one, gazing up at it with tears in her eyes. The small blue house looked warm and cozy, and he could easily see why Lucy had missed it so much. "This is your house?"

Lucy nodded excitedly. "My mom's in there! Oh, Sam, I can't wait to see my mom again."

"Then why are you waiting?" Sam asked, laughing. "Get in there!"

Lucy jumped up and down happily before grinning at Sam. "Thank you so much, Sam. You're the bestest best friend I ever had!"

Sam blinked quickly, trying for Lucy's sake to hide the tears that were welling in his eyes. "Goodbye, Lucy."

After a silent but hyper wave goodbye, Lucy hurried up the walk and bounded up the porch steps. Sam closed his eyes and turned away just before she reached the door. He didn't want to watch her disappear or fade away or whatever the heck it was ghosts did when they moved on. He wanted to remember her not as a ghost, but as a best friend and the girl who had given him his very first kiss.

Soon he felt a hand slide onto each of his shoulders. "Come on, Sammy," he heard Dean whisper. His brother gently began guiding him down the street, away from Lucy's house. "Don't even look back."

The walk back to the motel was made in silence. Sam was upset and Dean had no idea what to say to make him feel better. He had one arm slung around Sam's shoulder in an effort to comfort him any way he could. Soon the motel came into view, the red building seemingly bright against the deep green of the pine trees that surrounded it. "Not fair," Sam muttered, though whether he had meant to be heard, Dean wasn't sure.

"It's not fair at all, Sammy. She deserved better than that."

Sam just looked up at his big brother, helplessness in his eyes. "Why her, Dean? Why did this happen to her? Why did we have to stay here and why did I have to meet her? Because now I can never ever see her again and it's just not fair!" He pulled away from Dean and swiped at his eyes as the tears began falling fast and furious.

Dean reached out and tried to pull his brother closer to him, but Sam just dodged his grasp. "Sammy."

But Sam didn't want to be comforted. He wanted to be angry and he wanted to be sad. He wanted to yell and scream and throw a tantrum. Luckily for Sam, Dean knew his brother well enough to know when to back off and let him work through the emotions on his own.

As soon as Dean had the motel room door open, Sam stepped inside and flopped down on his bed, burying his face in the pillow. John was in the middle of packing up the boys' belongings and all it took was one look at Sam to know that the two of them had been successful in taking Lucy home. It was absolutely killing him that he'd had to hurt Sam so much in order to put Lucy's spirit to rest. He just hoped that Sam would understand someday that he'd had no other choice.

Sam changed position, pushing his back against the headboard and drawing his knees to his chest. On some level, he knew he would have had to leave Lucy behind anyway. He always had to leave the friends he made at the motels behind. Pretending that they'd see each other again someday made it easier, but he didn't have that luxury with Lucy. There was no way he could ever see Lucy again because she wasn't even alive anymore. She was gone.

Gone. Just like his mother.

John finished packing Sam's backpack and then sat down on the bed by Sam's feet. He forced his son to meet his eyes. "I'm proud of you, Sam."

Sam sniffled, blinking back tears. "You are?"

John gave him a curt nod. "It takes a strong little boy to do what you did for Lucy, and even though it hurt, you did it no questions asked. I'm very proud of you."

After a second's pause, Sam gave his father a small smile and wiped the tears from his face. "Does that mean you can take us to the castle place?"

John chuckled and ruffled Sam's hair. "Yeah, I guess that deserves a trip to the castle place."

Sam stole a glance at his brother and grinned. "You were right! He's taking us to the castle place anyway."

Dean just shrugged, smiling. "Told you."

-----

The Winchesters had been at the castle place--really named King's Castleland--for a couple of hours already. It was a tiny theme park with a few kiddie rides and some playhouses modeled after fairy tale characters. Dean was happy that the rides were providing Sam with some much-needed distraction, but they had been on the Tilt-a-Whirl so many times that he'd lost count. When he saw Sam make a beeline for the end of the line, Dean held a hand over his stomach and shook his head. "Dude, no way. If you drag me on that one more time, I'm going to throw up all the cotton candy I just ate."

Sam pouted, his shoulders drooping in disappointment. "What about the Scrambler?"

Dean wrinkled his nose, fighting a fresh wave of nausea at just the thought of the Scrambler. "Can we do something that doesn't spin?"

Rolling his eyes, Sam peered out at the other rides around him. "Well, there's a roller coaster. And bumper cars!"

Though the roller coaster wasn't all that big or even all that high, it did have spirals. Dean let out a sigh and ushered his brother towards the line for the bumper cars. He needed the stability of solid ground until his stomach settled.

In all the time they'd been at the park, Sam had only mentioned Lucy twice. One time he had wondered aloud what her favorite playhouse was, and the other time he had become excited when he found the carousel horse she had described to him as her favorite. With a gentle smile, Dean had told him that he should ride on that horse for Lucy, which Sam did.

"Do you see Dad anywhere?" Sam asked, startling Dean. "I'm really thirsty."

John had gone off in search of snack and drinks when Sam had started complaining of thirst before their last ride on the Tilt-a-Whirl. Dean craned his neck, trying to pick out his father in the crowd. He finally spotted him heading back towards the Tilt-a-Whirl and he waved his hands over his head in an attempt to let his father they'd switched lines.

It wound up not being an issue. As soon as Sam saw John with a couple of sodas and a Sno-Cone, he dashed out of line meet him halfway. He snatched the Sno-Cone from his father's hand and happily bit into the colored ice. He let the ice melt in his mouth as he took his place in line in front of Dean. "Thanks, Dad!"

"You're welcome," John replied, sharing an amused glance with Dean. Then he cleared his throat. "I hate to break up the party here, but we've only got another hour and a half or so of daylight. Pick a couple more rides and then we have to get back on the road."

Sam pouted before realizing that the bumper car line was moving. He handed his Sno-Cone back to his father as Dean took a quick sip of soda and did the same. Then the boys, along with a whole bunch of other kids, dashed into the bumper car arena. Sam settled himself in a red car, and Dean hurried over to a blue one.

Sam managed to get a few good slams into Dean's car. Grinning mischievously, Dean chased his little brother into a corner where he proceeded to get stuck. No matter which way Sam turned the wheel, he could figure out how to get his car out of the corner. Dean snickered and drove off, ramming his car instead into someone else's. By the time Sam finally figured out how to free his car, the ride was over.

As the brothers ran down the exit ramp, Sam smacked Dean hard on the side of his arm. "What'd you get me stuck for?"

"I was tired of you running into me!" Dean replied with a grin.

Sam rolled his eyes and stomped ahead of him. "Just for that, you're going on the Tilt-a-Whirl with me again!"

"Sam, seriously. If we do anything else that spins, I'm going to throw up on your shoes."

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Okay, how about the Ferris wheel? We haven't gone on the Ferris wheel yet."

"Yeah, I suppose we can do that." After telling John where they were headed next, Sam snatched his Sno-Cone back and Dean grabbed his soda.

Suddenly, on the walk to the Ferris wheel, Sam hung back a few paces and tugged Dean's sleeve to get him to do the same. "Dean, I have a question," he whispered.

Dean frowned slightly. Sam wasn't usually so secretive. "Okay, squirt, shoot."

He hesitated, and it was clear to Dean that he wasn't really sure if he wanted to ask the question or not. But now that he had Dean's attention, he figured that he had to ask. Sam met his brother's eyes uncertainly. "If Lucy's gone and Mom's gone ... are Mom and Lucy in the same place?"

Dean stopped walking and gave his full attention to his little brother. Sam barely even so much as mentioned their mother. "Why?"

"Because I think they are," Sam replied with a small, unsure shrug. "And if they are, I think Mom knows Lucy wants a mom and she's going to watch Lucy until her mom can be with her. Mom, would do that, right, Dean? She'd look after Lucy?"

Dean could tell instantly that this was something Sam needed to believe. That it would somehow be easier for him if he believed that not only would Lucy be cared for and protected, but also that she was still connected to Sam in some small way. "Yes," he answered, giving his little brother a smile. "Mom would definitely look after her."

Sam let out a soft breath of relief and smiled, and then he began hurrying his pace to catch up with John. Once the Ferris wheel was in view, Sam took off in a full-blown run, leaving both Dean and John in his wake.

"Sammy! Not so fast!" John called as Sam blew past him.

Dean sidled up next to his father and smiled up at him. John rested his hand on Dean's head for a moment then dropped his hand to his son's shoulder. "This job's been hard on you, too, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, a little," Dean replied with a nonchalant shrug. The death of any child was a horrible tragedy, and Lucy was even younger than Sammy. "I'm okay, though."

John nodded and fixed his attention on his younger son, who had arrived at the Ferris wheel and was impatiently waving his father and brother over to the line. "Is Sammy okay, you think?" he asked, nodding in Sam's direction.

Dean took a moment to answer. Sam had had a six-year-old's version of a whirlwind romance only to discover that his new best friend was a ghost. And on top of it all, Sam had had to be the one to talk the little girl into the light. But Dean knew that his brother was strong and as long as he believed that, wherever she was, Lucy would be taken care of, he'd be fine. "Yeah," he replied, nodding. "I think he'll be okay.