Maddison Winchester: Journal 3 {Supernatural}

8 A Very Supernatural Christmas: Part 3

The next morning, Sam found out where Madge Carrigan lived, so we made our way over to her house.

When we arrived, we pulled over in front of a large white house with tons of Christmas decorations on the lawn. We all got out and started making our way up to the door.

"This is where Mrs. Wreath lives, huh? Can't you just feel the evil pagan vibe?" Dean asked as we made it to the door and knocked.

A few moments later, the smell of evergreen and gingerbread hit us as an overly cheerful woman in a very modest pink and white sweater answered the door.

"Yes?" she asked in almost too sweet of a voice.

"Please tell me you're the Madge Carrigan who makes the meadowsweet wreaths," Dean said.

I peered into her house and could see Christmas decorations everywhere and handmade gingerbread houses on almost every counter and table.

"Why, yes, I am." She smiled proudly.

Dean looked at Sam and me and smiled. "Ha! Bingo."

"Yeah?" Sam asked Madge. "Uh, well, we were just admiring your wreaths in Mr. Sylar's place the other day?"

"You were?" Madge asked happily, "Well, isn't that meadowsweet just the finest-smelling thing you ever smelled?"

Sam nodded. "It is. It sure is. But the problem is, is that all your wreaths had sold out before we got the chance to buy one."

"Oh, fudge!" Madge shouted.

"You wouldn't have another one that we could buy from you, would you?" Dean asked.

Madge shook her head. "Oh, no, I'm afraid those were the only ones I had for this season."

"Aw..." Sam said, feigning disappointment.

"Tell me something. Why did you decide to make them out of meadowsweet?" Dean asked.

A man walked down the stairs and joined us at the door. He was wearing a cardigan and was using an old-fashioned pipe. Their hairstyles and clothing made it seem like they had walked out of a movie from the 1950s.

"Why, the smell, of course! I don't think I've ever smelled anything finer." Madge smiled.

"Yeah... um, you mentioned that," Sam said.

"What's going on, honey?" the man asked.

"Well, just some nice kids asking about my wreaths, dear." Madge smiled at her husband.

"Oh, the wreaths are fine. Fine wreaths. Oh, care for some peanut brittle?" Mr. Carrigan offered us some peanut brittle from a red tin.

Dean reached for a piece, but Sam pulled his arm away and smiled. "We're okay."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On our way back to the motel, Dean had gotten a call from Bobby. He informed him that stakes made of evergreen could kill our pagan god, so he got to work on that right away.

While Dean taught me to carve the stakes, Sam researched the Carrigan's.

"I knew it!" Sam clapped. "Something was way off with those two."

I looked up from my stake. "Yeah, they were pretty creepy."

"Hey, watch what you're doing," Dean scolded.

I looked back down and started carving. "Jeez... sorry."

"I just don't want you losing a finger," Dean said.