A/N: Okay this story came to me after seeing an episode of Ghost Hunters a few weeks back, so I thought I would work the idea into a SPN story. I would like to thank a great friend Catbeist for urging me to finish this, and historylover for helping me as well. Both of you girls are a great push and know how to kick my ass when I need it! I can always count on you two!
By the way, the house I describe in the story is my old childhood home in Canton, Ohio. The address is the exact same. There was nothing sinister about the place, though as a child I used to think it was haunted, hehe. Thus why I used it for the story. It was easier that way then making up a house and having to over think it, as Cat would say. I tend to do that.
Disclaimer: Kripke owns Sam and Dean and any mentioning of the show I may have done. The idea belongs to Catbeist and I.
Sam looked up from his computer and sighed. Dean dropped the TV remote. He knew that sigh anywhere. His brother was thinking, and whatever it was could not be good.
"What is it Sam?"
Dean leaned back on his pillows and stared his brother down. The younger Winchester glanced at his brother, then back at the computer screen. He read something to himself then looked back at Dean.
"Well, according to this article here, two men in Canton, Ohio were trespassing on private property on March 25th. Neighbors spotted these trespassers entering an old abandoned home, and called the police, who showed up at 6am the next morning. The police discovered the two men had been somehow mauled by...a bear!"
Sitting up, and almost knocking the remote onto the floor, Dean stared hard at his baby brother. He scratched his head a moment. They had encountered some weird cases in their lifetime, but never heard of a bear mauling inside a house.
"Dude, a bear? Are you sure? I mean, that isn't even possible, even by our standards."
Sam shrugged and closed the lid to his laptop.
"Yeah, well that is why we are going there. We have to check it out, see if it's real or not."
Dean chuckled to himself.
"Man, a bear mauling. Goldilocks sure must have pissed off the wrong home owner this time!"
Sam rolled his eyes, yet did not comment.
Dean stared up at the enormous house that sat on the corner of 10th and Dueber. It was well over 100 years old, and showed it. Though years back someone has placed aluminum siding on the structure, it did not change the fact that the home was aging. The roof was cracked, the chimney was broken and falling in, both porches were almost nonexistent. The 4-car garage had met its maker long ago, and had been torn down, leaving only remnants of it to the right of the house.
Sam merely stood in the mock gravel driveway that was alongside the house. In the daylight the place may have looked a bit better, but at night it gave off an eeriness that he just did not care for. As the moon above them cut past the clouds, it licked at the broken shingling and made it seem as if it were breaking apart, ready to swallow them whole. Sam shivered visibly.
Dean placed his bag over his right shoulder, then pushed his younger brother toward the house. Sam grunted, making a face. As he began to say something, he saw that Dean was already on his way to the broken back porch. Sam rolled his eyes and headed after him, praying no one in the neighborhood could see what the hell they were doing. They had done this many times before, but this was a small suburb, and even though this place was abandoned, there were still owners around. They had to act casual. Though that was in neither one of their resumes.
"Dean, hey, subtlety please."
Sam tapped Dean on the back, making his brother jump, dropping his lockpick. Dean muttered something then grabbed for it, and returned to the lock once again. Sam ignored his brother and stepped off the porch, avoiding a loose step, and headed around to the side of the house. Here there was a large cellar door. It looked to be unlocked, So Sam tried it. It creaked audibly, causing Sam to shush himself. He looked around, waiting for someone to look out of one of the nearby houses, and when no one did, he let it open fully. Pulling a flashlight out of his bag, Sam clicked it on and shown it down into the hole. It was dark and all he could see was that the stairs were gone, rotted away from years of termite damage.
"Hey Dean, over here. I found a better way in."
Sam yelled for his brother, but after a few moments when he did not slink around the side of the house, Sam wondered what had happened. Edging his way toward the porch, he saw that the kitchen door was wide open, and apparently Dean had disappeared into the darkness of the kitchen. Sam shrugged, figuring his brother could handle himself at the moment, and returned to the cellar. Grabbing his bag and placing it over his shoulder, Sam leapt down, causing dirt and mold spores to fly into his face. He coughed, swiping at the flurry of debris now taking up residence in front of him.
Sam's flashlight bounced off the tight crawlspace, and he had to duck his head due to his height. As he stepped out of the small walkway, he started to have an uneasy feeling, began to feel as if the darkness was trying to envelope him. Sam pushed forward until he was in front of what looked like where the owners would have kept canned fruit. He examined the recessed pantries, noticing how disheveled and broken the shelves were. As he reached for a lone jar that had been left behind, the feeling that had come upon him as he entered the small cellar stung him once again.
Setting the jar back on a rickety shelf, he turned, and caught something out of the corner of his eye. Turning, his flashlight danced around until it landed on the far corner of the basement, and Sam could have sworn he had seen something, what looked like a human figure standing in the far corner.
Thinking it best to let his brother in on this little tidbit, Sam turned from the pantry and hustled up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Once upstairs, he found Dean poking around in the living room, looking at a broken window. The torn window shear was blowing in the night air, looking eerily like a ghost. Sam shivered.
"Um, Dean. You might wanna come down to the basement with me. I think I saw something."
Dean turned, rubbing the back of his neck, not paying attention to what his brother had just said.
"Man, I think the cops might have hid one or two details from us, as always. I think the guys that came here first, they may have tried to go out this window, almost as if something was chasing them."
Sam watched Dean lean down to a few pieces of glass that were still left on the floor. From where he was standing, it seemed as if they were covered in blood.
"Or maybe pushed them."
Dean stared up at Sam quizzically.
"What do you mean by that? We have no evidence to support either claim Sam."
Sam pointed towards the basement door.
"Maybe not, but I saw someone, or something down there that says otherwise."
Dean stood fast, grabbing his bag. Yanking his shotgun out, checking to make sure it was loaded, he cocked it and rushed to the basement door without even saying a thing to Sam.
Dean practically flew down the stairs, not even knowing what he was going after, if anything, but in their line of work, it was shoot first, ask questions later. He scanned the basement for anything suspicious, looking under the open staircase, down the crawlspace, and then stopped right where Sam had his encounter.
A few moment later Sam was behind him, and almost scared the crap out of him by putting a hand on Dean's shoulder.
"Don't do that when I have a loaded gun in my hand. Accidents happen!"
Sam chuckled, then explained what he thought he saw, and where. Dean nodded, then slowly moved toward the corner of the basement. Sam watched as his brother was enveloped in shadows, and simply waited.
Seconds passed when Dean called out to his brother that all was well. Dean stepped out of the shadows shaking his head, one eyebrow raised, and muttering to himself. He pointed to the corner, showing Sam what he in fact saw.
Sam took a deep breath, chiding himself for acting like such a fool. As he looked at the corner of the basement, he realised, with better examination, it was an old coatrack set way back. With the way the dust had risen, and the shadows moved, he thought he saw someone.
"Well it could have been worse."
Sam sighed, turning his flashlight off. He turned to head for the stairs when Dean placed a hand on his shoulder, chuckling.
"Yeah, it could have been a clown!"
Sam's eyes went wide.
"Hey, they kill you know."
"Yeah, so I've heard."
Dean pushed his brother, protesting, up the stairs, slamming the basement door behind them.
Once upstairs, the boys headed for the living room again. Dean tossed the gun on top of his bag, rubbing his hands together. It was suddenly ice cold in the large room, yet no wind was blowing. The torn curtain was stationary, which caused Dean to look around the room, his eyes landing on his brother. Sam licked his lips, then cringed. He held the nape of his neck, as if someone had socked him. Dean eyed him cautiously, waiting a moment. When Sam shook his head, dropping his hand, Dean stepped toward him.
"Dude, you okay?"
The cold air had dissipated, but the feeling was still there. Something odd had happened, but Dean was not sure what. He did not like it.
"Yeah, just, my stomach feels a bit icky. I think I might have inhaled some of the dust when I jumped into the basement."
Dean sighed, then placed his hands in his jacket pockets.
"Sammy, you have got to learn to stop entering places uninvited, it only leads to trouble."
Sam nodded, then rubbed his throat. It was scratchy, and felt as if he had swallowed a brillo pad. He asked Dean if there was any way he could get him some water. Dean muttered something, making Sam huff.
"Hey, don't be a smartass man. I'd do it for you!"
Dean ignored his brother and edged his way through the small doorway to the back door. A few seconds later, Sam heard a yelp. He rushed into the kitchen, stopping short of banging into the rear end of his brother. Dean gestured toward the back door, a nasty look on his face. Sam grunted, but looked at what his brother was going on about. After only one look, he busted out laughing.
"Dude, it's just a couple of rats. They're just coming in to get warm."
Dean swatted at his brother, who laughed harder.
"I couldn't give two shits if they want to have a cup of non-fat latte and read the wall street journal, I don't want them here!"
He turned away and leaned against the sink, not even looking in that direction. Sam made a face, then kicked at the rats, which squeaked, then scattered under the refrigerator.
"There, mission accomplished. Now would you mind getting me some water please, or do I have to?"
Dean never moved; he still stared at where the rats had vacated to. Sam rolled his eyes, then reached for the door knob. As he yanked the door open, an invisible force grabbed it back with such power, the metal of the knob cut into his flesh. Before he could protest, every door and window in the house began to open and close over and over again. The front door banged open, making Sam jump, grabbing for the counter. The window behind him slowly crept open, creaking loudly. Both boys turned as it stopped midway, then slammed shut, causing a crack to edge its way up the windowpane. Dean suddenly stared at the ceiling as a door upstairs banged on its hinges, yet did not open. It sounded as if it were locked, and was trying to bust past it. Then as quickly as it all started, all was silent.
Sam breathed hard, then slowly edged for the doorknob, gingerly touching it. Surprised by the fact that it did not do anything when he did so, he tried turning it, yet nothing happened. It would not turn in either direction, as if it were welded in place. He glanced at Dean, who finally had moved from his perch to help him.
They both struggled with the knob, but found the same result. They were stuck inside a house with a mind of its own.
