Title: Nothing and Everything

Chapter 17

~~~~~~~~~~

While Dean had planned out January, it didn’t go quite according to the schedule. Things rarely did.

Gwen sighed.

The poltergeist case had ended in the poor family’s house blowing up, though the poltergeist was now gone and none of them had died. The family hadn’t seen the bright side in that and Gwen couldn’t blame them. They probably hadn’t expected to lose all of their possessions.

Dean and Sam had investigated ghost echoes and a possible vampire attack as well before returning home so Gwen and Jo could take one of the properties. Unfortunately, no sooner had they reached the driveway then plans had taken a swerve onto a different path.

It’s like dominoes, Gwen reflected, filling a large bowl with icy water and dipping three fresh washcloths into it until they were soaked. Dominoes of sickness. First Dean got the flu, then Jo, and finally Sam. She suspected Sam had lasted longer because of how much healthier he ate than either Dean or Jo. Jo had occasional indulgences and Sam rarely did. Gwen and Jack were the only ones untouched by the flu and Jack was with Ellen in hopes that he wouldn’t get it. A baby with the flu wasn’t something Gwen really wanted to deal with on top of the other three.

Flu sweeping their house and base meant there was no trip for Jo and Gwen to one of the properties unless Gwen bailed on her nursing duties with all of them and she hadn’t thought she should considering how hard they’d been hit with it. There was no way the three could take care of themselves, let alone each other. Not in their state.

Two months down and only four left.

The thought rose up unbidden and she paused, staring at the backsplash on the kitchen wall behind the sink. It wasn’t quite two months, but it was close enough. Whenever she remembered how fast time was flying, she got a trembling in her stomach that, if she didn’t force herself to stop thinking about it, would work outwards until she found her hands trembling as well. Dean had been right. Time was hardly on their side.

Dean and Sam had both stopped teasing her about her sunny side since it was barely on view anymore due to the threat hanging over her head. It was hard to look at things positively when there was so much stacked against her in this.

Gwen took a slow deep breath, banishing the thoughts, grabbed up the thermometer and the bowl, and headed upstairs to Dean and Jo’s bedroom.

Dean was awake and on his back, sweat slicking his skin. He’d been staring at the ceiling and transferred his attention to her when she walked in. “How is it you’re not sick?” There were dark shadows under his eyes and his skin had a pasty look to it. His voice was a bit nasally still and when he coughed it had a congested sound. He’d been hit the hardest by the flu, though not to hear Jo talk about it. She kept maintaining she’d have to die to feel better.

Gwen turned on the bedside light, then set the bowl on the nightstand and wrung one cloth out before gently laying it on his forehead. A soft sigh of relief left him. “I got a flu shot and yes, sometimes they do pick the right strain for it.”

He grunted. “And here I thought it was those Supergirl genes.” There was a faint hint of a smile on his lips.

“You’re feeling better.”

“Everything doesn’t hurt quite so much as it did and I kept the Pedialyte down this time.”

“Good boy.” It was about time he kept something down. She’d been thinking he might need intravenous nausea medicine and had been fully prepared to beg, borrow or steal some for him from Bobby’s medical supplies contact. Gwen took Dean’s temperature with the ear thermometer and grinned as it beeped. “Your fever’s broken. Temp is normal. Want to try some dry toast?”

He actually considered it a full ten seconds before grunting again. “Maybe later. How about some nice pain pills instead?”

When those had been taken and he was back lying down, Gwen broached a new subject with him, one she hadn’t been able to until now because of the fever. “I could…head out to the auction for you, grab the dress.” She’d been looking at the file and the notes, reading through what Jo had put together and the extra notes both Sam and Dean had added recently. Dean had written some cryptic comments that had her scratching her head trying to figure them out.

Dean frowned. “How many days have I been sick?”

“Nearly a week.”

“Auction is next week then.”

“It is.” He’d marked it on the calendar.

“How bad is Jo?”

“She’s been sick just as long as you and Sam’s a day behind.” She watched him a long moment. “Dean, you might not be up to the drive after having the flu for a week. I don’t mind going. I haven’t been to an auction in years.”

“When were you last at an auction?”

“Mom took me with her once when I was thirteen. She got me a necklace and earring set, though I’ve never worn them. At least she said they were from the auction. I didn’t pay too much attention to what was up for sale. There was a really cute boy there…. Mom said she’d hang on to them for me for when I got older and they ended up put away with her things after she died. It was too hard for me to take them then and I forgot about them. Jo and I found them in one of the last boxes we had here, still in the fancy case. It was sitting right on top.” She’d taken out the case and opened it, touching the stones that seemed to shimmer under the light, the memory of her mother giving her the set rising up. Patricia had stressed the importance of Gwen taking the jewelry and wearing them at a later date. She’d practically ordered her to.

Jo had told her she should get Sam to take her somewhere fancy and wear the set since she had it. ‘Might as well get some use out of it’ she’d said.

“Patricia liked auctions?”

“Sometimes. Dad thought they were a waste of time, but she’d just go anyway. She’d bring home boxes of sheets, things like that that we used. A dollar here, a five there. It wasn’t something she did all the time, just in certain areas. She had a couple auction places that she watched. I remember once she made dad drive two states for an auction and didn’t end up buying anything. He was totally pissed.”

His lips parted like he was going to say something, but then he shook his head. “Can’t think straight. Um…. No. Jo and I’ll still go.” He turned his head on the pillow. “Where’s Jo anyway?”

“I let her sleep on the bathroom floor. It was just easier.”

“How’s Jack doing? He okay?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked about Jack. He and Jo had both, even in fever delirium, been concerned for their son. “He’s with Ellen,” she reminded him, “and she says he’s just fine. Eating like he has a hollow leg.”

“That’s my boy. Sam?”

“About like you and Jo. Like I said, a day behind in symptoms. He’ll be fine. You all will in a day or two.”

“And you’re not even sniffling.”

“Or coughing, headachy, feverish…. Nope. I’m fine.” She was too. Not even a strange ache or sore throat.

“Mmm. I’m gonna sleep awhile. Try to anyway.”

“Wise idea.” She left the cool cloth and mostly closed the bedroom door on her way out. Her next stop was to check on Jo, who was sleeping fitfully, her fever still hovering right at 100° . Gwen blotted her face with one of the cloths and kept rewetting it from the tap until Jo settled back down, her sleep a bit more restful. “Your fever will probably break by morning,” she whispered partly to herself and left Jo to check on Sam.

As she stepped into the living room and half closed the door upstairs, she heard Sam throwing up again and winced before moving to the bathroom door. “Hey. I was going to ask if you felt better yet, but I guess not, huh?”

He groaned. “I have nothing in my stomach. Why am I still puking?”

“Want to try the antacid again? Or some Pedialyte?”

She’d swear he turned faintly green at the suggestion. “No. How’s Dean?”

“On the mend. Jo’s still sleeping in the upstairs bathroom, but her fever is starting to go down.”

After a long moment, he got up and brushed his teeth. The hand that grasped the water glass shook. He washed his face, then stumbled past her, getting as far as the couch before collapsing. Sam groaned again. “I haven’t been this sick in years.”

“Want your bucket?”

“Yes.”

She retrieved the bucket she’d placed by their bedside and set it on the floor next to him. With Sam occupied on the couch, she took the opportunity to strip their bed and wash the sheets, then clean the bedroom. From upstairs, she heard the sounds of the shower running. By the time two hours had passed, she was able to get Sam back in the bedroom and make the rounds of checking on the other two. She found Dean already in the bathroom with Jo. He’d showered and changed clothes and was gathering Jo up, blanket and all.

“Come on. Let’s put you in bed. You’ll rest better there.”

Jo made a weak noise of protest but didn’t fight him.

For a moment, Gwen thought they were going to stagger into the railing and fall down the stairs, but Dean remained standing. Had to be a miracle in his weakened condition. Gwen helped him put Jo to bed then cleaned that bathroom. The house hadn’t been this clean in awhile. She’d spent more time cleaning and doing laundry the past week than anything else, though she’d managed to get a little work done and checked on Sophie.

There’d been no progress on Mick’s disappearance and no evidence that he’d been taken by something or killed. He was just gone, like he’d finished the job and left town. It was what they did except he would have called Sophie. He always did. Sophie had reached the anger stage and was swearing death on anything or anyone that may have harmed him. She also mentioned that her dad was thinking about leaving Alaska to help her search for Mick, which meant Sophie really was in a bad way. Chris rarely left Alaska at all. Gwen wondered once if Mick had fallen afoul of a Trickster, then decided she didn’t like dwelling on that subject and stopped thinking about Mick because it reminded her of her own circumstances.

By morning, Dean was headed back to his normal self, Jo’s fever had broken, and Sam began the last leg of the flu where the fever once more worsened. Within two days, all were better, if a little weak still, and Gwen was glad to have nursing duties finished.

Ellen brought Jack back, her exclamations over how good he’d been not quite matching up with the bags under her eyes and the constant yawns. Dean and Jo had two days with their son before they left to go to the auction. They made the most of the hours, playing with him, reading to him, and holding him. During the middle of their goodbyes, Gwen realized it was the first time Dean and Jo had left Jack with anyone to go on a trip together. She wondered how many times they’d call for updates.

Sam closed the front door and took off his coat. He and Dean had been talking in hushed tones outside by the Impala and Gwen assumed it was last minute instructions about Jack. “So.”

“So?” She laid Jack in his crib.

“Alone with Jack.”

She smiled and covered Jack with a small blanket. “Alone with Jack,” she agreed. He was settling down for a nap, his eyes closing and the pacifier wiggling as he sucked on it. He sighed, the wiggling stopped and he was asleep. Gwen wished she could fall asleep so quickly these days. “He’s napping now.”

He stepped close, an arm sliding about her waist. “Any more boxes left?”

“No. Jo and I went through all of them.”

“What property were you going to go to?”

“There was one in Montana that looks promising from satellite. The building is fairly large and I’ve done as much research as I can.” She took his hand in hers and tugged him to the table where she’d been working. “Here. Look.” Gwen handed Sam the papers.

“Another compound?”

“Looks like, but we won’t know until we get there. Could be just storage.”

“Have you researched the other places on the list?”

“All Jo and I’ve done is get whatever information we can from here. All that’s left is to go to them one by one.” She showed him the papers for the rest, each sorted into it’s own envelope.

He took his time reading through them. “Wait a minute….” Sam flipped back and forth between two pages. “This is in West Virginia.”

“Yeah. So?”

“We got a map handy?” When she’d spread one out, he found first one town, then another. “Look at that.” Sam pointed at the one town. “This is where our property is. This,” he moved his finger to the other town, “is where Mick disappeared. There’s maybe ten miles between them. Odd coincidence.”

She had to agree with that. “It is odd, but probably means nothing.”

“I don’t like coincidences like that. They tend to mean bad things. Dean and I’ll take that one since we’re going there anyway to investigate Mick.”

“Jo and I’ll go to Montana like we’d planned.”

They worked for awhile longer, until Jack woke and it became a game trying to figure out why he was still crying after they’d changed him, fed him, burped him, and held him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Caring for a baby had been a helluva lot easier when Ellen was in her twenties. She simply couldn’t do the low sleep thing anymore and after awhile, the crying became grating. She hadn’t wanted him to get sick though, remembering rather well all the times Jo had had the flu growing up. If she could postpone Jack having it as long as possible, she would.

She peered at the computer screen. It wasn’t the website she was working on right now or the message board, it was Bobby’s business accounts. Ellen looked down at the papers on the table and back at the screen. She’d been going through it all most of the day, helping him out with invoices and the like, and the numbers were beginning to swim a little in front of her eyes. It was the one part of running a business she hadn’t particularly cared for. The paperwork. She’d loved talking to the people and managing the staff and customers, but the paperwork she’d hated. Dry, boring numbers…. But she was good at it.

Bobby came across the room, startling her a little as she hadn’t heard him come into the house. “You wanna grab some dinner, Ellen?”

The tone of his voice was odd and she sat back, turning her head and looking up at him. He was carefully not looking at her, that tone nonchalant enough that she realized he wasn’t simply asking her if she’d want to get food. “You askin’ me on a date, Bobby Singer?” She tried to sound teasing and playful, lighthearted.

He adjusted his cap. “If you’re interested, then yes. If not, then it’s just dinner.”

Her mouth suddenly seemed dry. He was asking her on a date. Ellen saved her work and began straightening up. A date. She hadn’t been on a real date in months. Years, she corrected. Had it really been that long? “Thought you and Jodie were seeing each other.”

He shrugged. “I kissed her once. We both shuddered and decided we’re better as friends, though she’s damn fine in a swimsuit.”

She considered the question of dinner. She’d had dinner with him many times. Did she want to make it a date? Ellen blinked. Why not? “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I wanna grab some dinner. You want me to put on a face or is naked fine?”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “A woman naked is always fine, Ellen.” There was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Sweet talker.” She smiled, shut down the computer, and stood. “I’m ready if you are. Got a place in mind?”

The only difference between this dinner and the other dinners they’d had was that Ellen wondered if he’d kiss her later. When he did, it was reminiscent of that peck Christmas Day: a soft query that brought back memories of other such kisses throughout her life. Pleasant, warm, friendly, familiar in a way and still very new. It was gentlemanly and an indication he was just as afraid as she was that they’d screw up their friendly relationship if they pushed things. Ellen went home with that kiss playing through her mind over an over.

Maybe, it was okay to push things. Change, she decided, was a good thing and she was ready for a little change in her life. Why not? Could bring good things and hadn’t she decided back when she’d regained her memories that she wasn’t going to look back? She was going to go forward and take whatever came her way.

She still knew how to work her assets and Bobby wasn’t going to know what hit him.

~~~~~~~~~~

He should still be in bed, he and Jo both. Dean pressed a hand to his stomach and took a slow deep breath. While they’d recovered for the most part, there was a lingering fatigue remaining coupled with a queasy stomach that came and went. Neither he or Jo had been able to eat much of anything the past few days. He raised his glass and sipped at the fizzy liquid Jo had gotten him. Tasted like Sprite and he grimaced.

Jo had thought they were going to pick up the dress before the auction and leave, but he’d actually had other things in mind, like the certainty that Veronica Bennett was going to be there. They needed to talk to her. He knew Jo wanted that dress, but he’d rather get Gwen in touch with her grandparents, then get the dress. He had it all planned out. Maybe it’d even go according to the plan.

“Hello, Dean.”

He turned. Think of the devil and there she was…. Veronica Bennett was behind him in what he thought was the same suit she’d worn at the last auction. “Ronnie. Veronica Bennett. Or Nicki. Which do you prefer?”

“Nicki to my acquaintances, Ronnie to my friends, and Nic to my husband.” Her smile was delighted. “You found me out. I had faith you would. Who told you?”

“Rufus Turner, though to be fair, I’d found out a few things before he showed up.”

“Rufus….” Her glance slid upwards as she thought and then she was nodding. “Ahh yes, Rufus. How is he these days?”

“Causing trouble up and down the west coast last I heard.”

“And the east coast and everywhere between,” she added, obviously familiar with his work. Ronnie gestured towards Jo, who was at the refreshment table with her back to them. “The woman you came in with. Your wife?”

“She is.”

Ronnie looped her arm chummily through his and began leading him towards the table. “Introduce me, dear boy. Is your brother here as well?”

“He’s back at our base. Ham come with you this time or did you leave him at home?”

“My, Rufus did tell all, didn’t he?”

“And a few things besides,” he admitted.

“Mmm. No, Ham isn’t with me this trip.”

He made the introductions. “Jo, this is Veronica Bennett. We met at the last auction through a mutual acquaintance, Denise Atwater.”

“Ahh, yes. Denise.” He saw a flicker of recognition as Jo placed the name. “Dear Denise.” In other words, ‘dear Denise who’d funded them for awhile with the amount she’d paid them’.

“Please call me Ronnie,” Ronnie told her, releasing Dean’s arm. “We wives should stick together.”

Exactly what she’d told him and Sam. “That could be dangerous,” Dean muttered and took a sip of the soda in his glass.

Jo’s brows rose. “You’re in the business as well?” The sentence was said in a careful manner, Jo doing that same assessing thing women do with each other that Ronnie was doing to her, taking in everything about her and drawing conclusions.

Maybe it was weird, but Dean enjoyed watching Jo assess other women. Her conclusions were many times spot-on.

“For a very long time. I’d like to invite both of you to join me for dinner. We can relax and talk then, discuss…the business. There’s a delightful German restaurant a couple blocks over called ‘Bierhaus’. Shall we say seven?”

Jo shrugged. “Fine with me.”

He stared at Ronnie. “Who’s buying?”

“I am. I’ve decided that wager was unfair to you, since there was never a chance of you winning it.”

“Wager,” Jo asked, head turning and gaze fixing on him. “Dean? What wager?”

“Don’t be late. After dinner we can have a toast.” Ronnie gestured towards the raised dais. “I believe your item is next.” Instead of staying, she sauntered to the door and out of it.

“Damn it,” Dean said softly, suddenly realizing that Ronnie and Ham had pulled what he and Jo should have. “Left Ham home my ass.”

“Dean? What’s going on?” Jo frowned. “Who was she?”

“That’s where he was.”

“Where who was?”

“I should have anticipated that, but he didn’t seem….” He was confusing her and wasn’t sure how to explain in public without Jo getting upset. “Watch.” He pointed at the dais.

It was quickly clear that the dress was gone. The auctioneer tried to cover it up, but the presence of security suddenly all over the place pointed to that end. By the time he and Jo were able to leave, it was nearly seven, so they went directly to the restaurant, which was just like the name implied: beer served in tall wide mugs and generous portions of food that Ronnie assured them was authentic.

Too bad Dean couldn’t eat much. He chanced a beer though.

They made small talk and ate, and after dessert, Dean laid a picture on the table and with his index finger, slid it across to her. “You know this man?”

Ronnie’s genial smile faded and she glanced up at him with a frown before looking back down. “The one there is Neal Campbell, that one is Billy Harvelle --”

“Billy,” Jo crossed her arms on the table and leaned over a little.

“Billy,” she confirmed. “The one in the middle was Aaron Bennett, but I think you already knew all of that, didn’t you, Dean?” Her polite mask was cracking, emotion peeking through.

“Bennett,” Jo repeated. She was working out what Dean already suspected in her head, putting it together fast. In his glance her way, he saw it click into place. “Was he your son?”

“He was. May I ask what this is about? I loved my son deeply, but he’s dead and has been for over thirty years. The other two are dead as well, so why show me a picture of the Three Musketeers?” Her voice was tight.

“Why do you call them that,” Dean inquired.

“Because they worked as a team sometimes, all cavalier attitudes and the other sort of behavior young men get up to. Billy we approved of. He was a nice boy and we got along with his kin. Neal though…. Well, I guess he liked Aaron.” Her tone made it clear she was in doubt of that fact.

“When did they work together?” Jo was leaning forward further, an eager light in her eyes. “My mom said my dad usually worked alone.”

Ronnie’s face seemed to close up, emotion shuttering down. She pursed her lips, studying Jo. “You a Campbell, girl?”

The way she said it was like a curse leaving her mouth. She fairly spat the name and it surprised Dean. He blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him that some might hate the Campbell family, though with what they’d discovered about their family it shouldn’t surprise him. Suffering from rampant paranoia didn’t tend to make making friends with other hunters easy.

Jo was visibly taken aback by the vehemence with which Ronnie said the name, a brow twitching and her lips pressing together in an irritated line. “No. I was a Harvelle before I married Dean. My dad was Bill Harvelle.”

“Oh.” Now Ronnie’s features softened. “I do remember he had a daughter…. He was a good man, Jo, and from a very good, old family.”

Dean laid down a second picture. “How about this picture?”

Tension grew in the air, Ronnie’s mood plummeting fast. He was either going to piss her off so that she left in a huff or shock her so that she stayed and talked to them. “Aaron, the scheming slut witch he married, and I don’t know the child.” As she spoke, emotions slid fast across her face: sadness, regret, and anger.

“Let me help you with that.” The last picture he set down was one of Sam and Gwen together, a candid shot Ellen had taken. Sam had been teasing Gwen about something Dean didn’t remember right now and she’d been laughing. It was a good, flattering picture of Sam and Gwen together. It had been taken right after the two had decided they were a couple.

Ronnie drew in a sharp breath. Why? Why the breath? Was it in response to Gwen’s likeness to her mother Mia or something else? “Sam and? Who is she?” She sounded almost eager to know.

“Your granddaughter. Her name is Gwen and she’s alive and well right now.” He leaned over the table a little. “Normally I’d circle awhile before spitting it out, but we don’t have the time. Your granddaughter’s life is in danger.” He repeated the word ‘granddaughter’, trying to put a connection between Ronnie and Gwen where there was none at present, something that might make Ronnie act.

“Her name is Gwen?” Ronnie stared at the picture, then reached out and picked it up.

“That mean something to you,” Jo asked, fingers raising to tuck her hair behind her ears.

Her denial was too late to be one and sounded choked. “No. Nothing.”

Dean cleared his throat, drawing Ronnie’s attention back to him. “We have four months to locate a box that ended up either in Campbell possession…or yours. Rufus said you cleaned out Aaron’s place after he died, but we know the Campbells got there first. Either or, Ronnie. You or them.” Lastly, he unfolded a copy of the drawing. “This look familiar?”

She stared at it, set the picture of Gwen and Sam down so close to her side of the table that he knew she was going to make off with it, and picked up the drawing with the tips of her fingers. He didn’t mind if she took the picture of them. It was a copy anyway and Ellen could get another printed. Besides, if she took it, it was one step closer to the connection he was trying to force. “Possibly. I’ll have to go through my inventory. May I have your contact information?”

Jo scrawled it across the back of the drawing and within minutes, Ronnie was gone. “How long have you known all of that?” Jo sat back in the booth.

He finished his beer before answering. She didn’t look pissed that he’d withheld some information, merely tired. “Since you and Gwen went to check out that first property. Sam and I met her at that auction and she said a few provocative things. Remember I mentioned Nicki? Well, that’s her. I snapped a picture of her and asked around about her. Bobby didn’t recognize the picture, but Rufus did.”

“Gwen’s grandmother.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve got to tell her.” She pulled out her phone, but Dean put a hand over hers, stopping her.

“Not yet.”

“Dean, why not? This is information she needs to know.”

“I agree. She does need to know, but we need to give Ronnie time to stare at her picture and want to meet her. I don’t want to give Gwen the information, have her run out after Ronnie, and be disappointed if Ronnie refuses to see her. We give Ronnie time.”

“And the box? You think she’ll give it to us if she has it?”

That part he wasn’t leaving to chance. He planned to make a detour to the cabin Abraham Bennett owned and discuss the matter personally with Ronnie and Ham both. And he planned to take Sam. If they had it, they’d either give it or Dean would steal it. Dean opened his mouth to reply and saw Ronnie approaching their table.

She still looked upset and her eyes were bloodshot, like she’d cried hard the second she’d left the building. “I almost forgot the toast we’d planned. Would you like to follow me over? Ham should have the fire pit set up.”

“Toast?” Jo reached for her coat.

“The dress, dear. The flapper dress. We need to burn it.”

“Right.” Jo put her coat on. “Shall we, Dean?”

Ham wasn’t at the site and somehow, Dean wasn’t surprised. He was quickly getting the feeling that Rufus was right and Ronnie was the face of that team. It was Ronnie people usually dealt with.

Ronnie took the dress from the box it was in and held it up, giving it a little shake. “It’s too bad, isn’t it, Jo? A beautiful dress.”

Stretching out one hand, Jo touched the dress, a finger tracing one beaded flower design. “It’s pretty.”

“Well, shall we torch it?”

The two of them laid the dress on the fire pit, spreading it out so the flames would be evenly distributed. Ronnie handed her a lighter and one to Dean as well. It didn’t take long for the fabric to catch.

Dean cleared his throat. “Can you tell us why this dress was so important? We know the Campbell family was chasing it from about the time it was created.”

Ronnie stared at the flames. “The family of witches that created it has been a thorn in the sides of various hunting families for a very long time. To track this thing down and finally destroy it is like freeing all of us from them. Not literally, you understand. As far as I know, there’s a couple of them out there somewhere still.”

“We think Mia was from an old witch family.” Jo put her hands in her pockets. “Maybe the one who cursed the dress.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. They’d promised death on the Campbells and a few others and Aaron would have gotten her close.”

“Yeah, well, Mia’s dead,” Dean told Ronnie. “She got possessed by the demon she raised and Jo shot her.”

“Good riddance. After seeing what she did to my only son, death is too good for her. Can you imagine receiving a phone call telling you to clear out your son’s home before someone discovers his body? Then arriving to see him sprawled out, ripped open…his face frozen in an expression of pain…. Knowing he died in agony? Having to burn his body and knowing the family line dies with him?” She sobbed, then blinked until her tears disappeared and composed herself. Tried to, rather. The tears continued to fall and she let them without wiping them away, as though very comfortable with the constant presence. “I hope she suffers the same wounds in hell that she gave out here.”

Dean held her gaze a long moment. This was the sort of grief he’d had when Sam had been in the pit, a grief that tore a person apart to the point that recovery was difficult, if not impossible. Aaron had been dead for over thirty years and Ronnie still grieved. He wondered if he’d made it worse or better with the news that she had a granddaughter. “I can guarantee it’ll be worse.”

She looked back at the fire. “Good.”

He waited until the fire began dying down before asking, “What happened to your family heirlooms?” He tried to sound casual about it and knew he’d missed the mark when Ronnie gave him a sharp glance. There was an idea swirling in his mind, one that had everything to do with Patricia Campbell and auctions.

“Heirlooms.” Now she wiped at her eyes, a dainty motion of her ring finger.

“Yeah, the things families pass down from generation to generation.”

She quirked a brow. “I know what they are, Dean. Why are you asking? It’s an odd thing to inquire about.”

Jo crossed her arms. “Yeah, honey. Why are you asking?”

“Curious. I’ve never known a hunter got disinherited before, not like you did. I mean, Jo had her dad’s knife, but he was in hunting so it came right to her. How does that work for heirlooms when your family isn’t in the business and you get disinherited? You ever get them?”

Jo’s mouth opened and her brows rose, like she couldn’t believe he was being so crass as to actually ask that.

Ronnie gave a very inelegant snort. “What happens is the same thing that happens in other families when a body is disinherited. Things go to others in the family or to auctions and the like. When my mother died, I was to inherit a necklace and earring set from her. However, my father was still angry with me and sent it to a small auction house with a few of the household items of lesser importance. He took great delight in informing me that a woman who looked practically homeless bought it very cheaply. He knew it would hurt me. That’s how it goes, Dean. It’s family politics and pettiness.”

“He just sent it to auction? Just like that?”

“Yes. He wasn’t a man to forgive easily. My name was struck from the family Bible decades ago. As far as my father was concerned, and to his dying day, his little princess was living in sin with a heathen hobo who would never amount to anything. Never mind that the heathen hobo had done a job for him that enabled him to continue living.”

“What did it look like? The set, I mean.”

“It’s long gone, Dean.” Ronnie’s smile was sad. “I can only hope that whoever bought it has enjoyed it. My mother loved that piece. It wasn’t the most valuable in her collection, but it was her favorite. The stones had a pearlescent quality under a certain light and it seemed to almost glitter to my eyes whenever my mother would wear them. A pleasant memory from my much younger days.”

“Were the earrings studs or drops?” There was the spark of excitement in Jo’s eyes.

“Drops. Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Quite a bit of curiosity between you,” Ronnie remarked. “Definitely no shortage.”

And just like that, Jo was on the same page he was. They shared a long glance and said their goodbyes to Ronnie.