Title: The Truth is Out There?

Author: Borgmama1of5

Summary: Once in a while, things work out right.

Spoilers: none; can be anytime

Wordcount: 900

Disclaimer: Not mine, or I would feed them pie.

Gen, no pairing

Rating: G

For the spnquotefic:

1.19 Provenance

SARAH: No. No, I was seeing things. It's impossible.
DEAN: Yeah, well, welcome to our world.

I really didn't want to believe. I wanted to be positive they were conning me with an outlandish story.

Trouble was, I couldn't quite convince myself of that.

Maura has always said I'm too damn gullible. Actually, I've been told that by several people in my life.

In my defense, I've said that I'd rather be taken advantage of once in a while than be cynical and suspicious about everyone.

So I was listening to them, and trying to figure out what the truth was.

"I'm having a really hard time with what you're telling me, boys."

The floppy-haired one kept his implausibly earnest eyes right on me. As he brushed his hair back, I could see a faded purple bruise on his cheekbone.

"I understand this is hard to accept, Mrs. Crawford. But we need you to give us that pendant. Like my brother explained, it can be used to summon … spirits … harmful ones, and –"

I interrupted. "Here's why I don't believe you boys. That charm's been in my family for generations, why, I've got a picture of my great-great-grandmother wearing it, for heaven's sake! If it was dangerous, attracted these 'bad spirits,' as you put it, how come my family's never had anything really bad happen to us? Shouldn't there be stories of awful things connected with it? Something tragic or mysterious?"

The other one answered. "Actually, you should feel very lucky that no one – no thing – knew where it was."

His voice was deeper, less cajoling, but he was no less trying to charm me with those green eyes. And I had to admit that a much younger me would have been flattered to have his attention, even if he was a bit scruffy around the edges. I know that five-o'clock-shadow thing is all the rage, but I've always preferred a clean-shaven man. To be fair, though, his not-recently-shaved appearance didn't seem an affectation, it was simply in keeping with his overall worn-out look. Which, now that I was looking at him more closely, included a couple of nasty scrapes running from his temple to his jawline on one side.

"Okay, now, Dean, and Sam, right?" They both nodded. Still keeping their eyes on me.

"Here's the truth. I don't know whether to believe you or not. You have to admit, what you're telling me is pretty off-the-wall. And you're asking me to just give you a family heirloom …"

I stopped, watching the look green-eyed one gave the other boy. Exasperated, a this-was-your-brilliant-idea look that I'd seen my own sons give each other often enough growing up.

And really, they weren't boys, they were young men. Like Paul and Matt. Of course, that's why they seemed like boys to me, I realized.

A question occurred to me.

"How did you know I had the pendant, anyway?"

Sam looked a little embarrassed, like he'd gotten caught.

"There was a drawing of it in a … reference book, and we tracked it down from the name Ezra Wallingford."

"Oh." Well, that made sense, Wallingford was a name in the family tree. An old one.

"You must have some impressive genealogical research skill."

Dean smiled at that, and it transformed his face from scarily intense to meltingly brilliant. Clearly a compliment to his brother was better than saying something flattering about him.

I didn't mean to say it out loud. "You must be the older one."

He was a little startled, but it didn't diminish the grin as he nodded.

"Well," I stood up, and they did the same. "Some people would say I'm just too naive, and I don't really want to believe that there are evil spirits out there. Although that might be comforting than to think some of the awfulness in the world is not just the fault of us humans. Don't know …"

They followed as I walked to my bedroom. Great-great-grandma's necklace was wrapped in silk in my jewelry box. I handed it to the older one.

"Has it always been wrapped in this?" Sam asked.

"Yes, that's how it was passed down."

"That explains some of why your family hasn't had problems. The silk dampens the energy it gives off, effectively hiding it from malevolent beings."

"So what happens to it now?"

Dean had unwrapped it enough to see that it was what they were looking for, and then tucked it inside his jacket in an upper pocket.

"We're going to see that it's destroyed, ma'am. So that it can never fall into the wrong hands."

"Well, then that's that."

I escorted them to my front door, and as they stepped onto the front porch, something made me say, "I do appreciate you boys coming and asking, instead of just breaking in and stealing it. Though I'm guessing that that was your back-up plan?"

I had the satisfaction of seeing a flash of surprise and guilt cross both their faces. Sam gave a look at his brother that could only be described as a bitchface, then said to me,

"Thank you for proving that sometimes people can be reasonable."

I watched them get in their big black car.

Much as I didn't want to believe, I think they were telling the truth.