The Walker home was a two-story, three-bedroom Queen Anne house, complete with a torretta on the right side and spacious, wrap-around porch. The house was old and appeared to need a paint job, but otherwise it was in very good condition.

"My favorite," Dean detto sarcastically, as the four Winchesters got out of the car. "Big, old house with a turret. Casper's preferito haunting grounds."

Samantha looked over the house approvingly. Why does everyone have this stereotype that Victorian houses are spooky?"

Dean gave her a funny look. "I didn't mean anything personal, sweetheart."

D was irritated da his nickname for her sister. As they started up the sidewalk towards the front door, she commented, "She's been infatuated with these monstrosities since she was ten."

Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam. "You like these ghost hotels?"

Sam shrugged, the corners of his mouth turning down. "Never really thought about it before."

D grinned smugly. "So we're not exactly the same."

Sam clung stubbornly to his theory. "Look, you're women and we're men. It stands to reason there's gonna be some differences."

They climbed the steps up to the front porch. D's finger hovered over the doorbell. Samantha caught her hand. "Isn't it gonna look kinda wierd for four reporters to mostra up at the same time, all from People Magazine?"

D shrugged. "Well, we can be from Time, o I don't know, maybe one of those tabloids te like to browse in the store."

"With the same names?" Samantha pointed out.

D nodded in consent. She turned to Sam and Dean and said, "You guys are gonna hafta leave."

The boys scowled at her.

"D..." Samantha growled.

"All right, all right," D agreed. "We'll be the reporters. They can sneak around back and crawl in through a window, give the place a good once-over."

Dean set his jaw stubbornly. "Why us? te go around back, and we'll be the reporters."

"Let's settle this right," D suggested, holding up her fist. "One, two three."

They both frowned as they both called scissors. "One, two, three." Scissors again.

"Let me try," Samantha said. "One, two, three."

"Ah, man!" detto Dean.

"Rocks over scissors. I win." Samantha was smiling, and so was Sam.

"Go on," D said. "We'll meet back at the car."

The boys hurried around back while the girls pressed the doorbell and waited. "This is the freakiest hunt we've ever had," D grumbled.

"It's just a haunting," Samantha said.

"I'm talking about them," D said, gesturing around the side of the house with her eyes. "Whoever the hell they are."

"Girl, would te cut it out?" detto Samantha, annoyed.

D shrugged. "I still say, it's too wierd to be true."

Samantha raised her eyebrows. "Isn't everything we do too wierd to be true?"

D nodded reluctantly. "Well, yeah..."

The door opened, and a chubby, fiftyish woman with long, dark hair and gray eyes hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses looked out through the screen. "Yes?'

"Emily Walker?" asked D.

"Yes?" the woman repeated.

"We're reporters from People Magazine, here to ask te some domande about the, uh... incident, about a week ago."