Chronicles of Absolution: 'Trick'steen Candles

Chapter 1

Now

It was supposedly a quiet night at the old warehouse. There wasn't a single noise going on except for the occasional creaking of some old chain thing. There were a lot of old crates and machinery lying about. It was a recipe for disaster if the approach was not taken correctly.

Suddenly there was a large crash as something went flying through the air. Dean whipped his Colt 911 towards the sound. He called out, "Sam? Sammy?"

The next thing he knew he felt something drop down on top of him and nearly pinned him completely. He could feel the hot breath of the thing on the back of his neck. "Damn fugly," he muttered as he pressed with his hands to push off as he felt the breath get hotter and hotter.

Dean was on his feet even though he felt nails scratch him in the process. He wheeled around and began to fire at the thing. He missed since it moved too fast and it laughed at him. Dean found that he hated the sound of that high pitched laughter. It sounded like it belonged to a crazy person, which was exactly what it was, but it wasn't your average crazy person.

Dean pointed his gun at the thing where it was sitting on top of a bunch of crates apparently licking its fingers. "Your ass is going down."

"Hehehehe," the maniacal laughing began. It then said, "Oh so long have I gone down and into dark red I have nearly drowned."

That was another thing that annoyed Dean. This penchant for rhyming was pissing him off. Every since they found this thing, it had been nothing but riddles and it frustrated him. He was about to fire when Sam joined him sporting a cut on his head. "You alright Sam?"

Sam had his gun and had it pointed at the thing. It was laughing and not moving. They just had to catch it in the next place it would move into. "I'm fine."

"Where the hell is she?"

"I don't know."

Dean would have said something but was interrupted by the thing, "Oh lookie here the one who fed me is here. So small a thing but the mere taste makes me sing."

"Just shut up," Dean countered missing the fact that the thing had taken a taste of Sam's blood from the cut on his head.

"Don't be so rude knight of shadows this whole set up is the cage your friend rattles," the thing replied as it stood to its full height. "Fears and dreams dare to mingle probably why so alone and single." It started to skip on top of the crates and tease the brothers. "Knights of shadows chase poor little me but the real problem is in front but cannot see."

Dean had enough and fired. He missed again and earned a look of reproach from Sam. He just wasted another bullet that would wound it and then they could swoop in for the kill. He countered Sam's look saying, "I've had enough with this rhyming crap."

Suddenly both brothers were jumped upon by the thing and Dean felt himself sliding across the floor into the pile of crates nearby. He shielded his head as they fell and prayed that he wasn't going to get crushed or anything. He managed to scramble out of them just in time to see the thing grab a hold of Sam by his wrists and was leaning in. he could make out fangs in the night. Dean struggled to get out.

"Such coward is what I see who would go after humans instead a challenge like me."

The thing stopped what it was doing and looked towards the source of the noise. It then squealed in pain as it let go of Sam and grabbed its shoulder. It's eyes flickered at the source and growled, "I see the one who sees too much and bears a burden to make the back crunch. The smell is sickly sweet and yet to taste would be a delightful treat."

Angela jumped down from where she had thrown her chakram and landed with a crouched thud. She replied, "Try if you like but in the end death comes this night."

The thing grinned and cackled maniacally, "Understands the beauty doth she; the one who brings relief to me. Oh she knows this is the end but which end of the stick shall bend?" It moved a couple of steps closer grinning and studying its adversary.

Angela stood there looking at the thing. She felt sorry for it but it must be done. She replied, "Yes it's true the end is near but only one shall be left standing here."

"Angie just take out the damn thing," Dean shouted as he struggled to pull himself free. "Quit talking to it."

The thing hissed, "So rude the knight of shadow is and yet so long to taste that blood of his." It started towards Dean.

Angela moved with just as quick reflexes and tackled the thing. They crashed into some metal barrels full of something but she could hear the sounds of shrieking pain and smell burning clothing. She realized that whatever was in the barrels was acidic. Her jacket was smoking and she flung it off without a word while the thing shrieked in pain and said, "My face, my face, now I live in horrid disgrace." It then lighted its eyes on Angela and added, "You the causer of pain and your blood is the one I drain."

Angela took in the thing and let it charge. She dodged and attempted to maneuver it to where she wanted it. It took some time and much shouting on Dean's part until she neared a tool bench. By that time she had taken a couple of hard hits and was ready for the kill. She grabbed the first thing that she could get her hands on, ignoring the pain that hit her hand.

She had grabbed razor wire with her bare hands and without a second thought wrapped it around the thing's neck and pulled. She looked at the thing in the eye as it struggled with trying to free itself from the razor wire.

"Caught me in the web the beautiful spider spins. And end to a peaceful end and the spider doth wins," the thing gurgled forth as the blood spilled through.

Angela looked at the thing in the eyes and she saw someone else caught in that razor wire. The images transposed on each other and her grip loosened slightly but the thing was still caught. Suddenly she tightened her grip and amidst the pain and the blood dripping from her own hands she pulled with all her strength and the razor wire sliced the head off completely. She could hear the wire scrape against the bone, muscle and flesh and watched the head pop off.

The head landed on the ground and rolled for a bit, eventually coming to a stop. Angela watched as the muscular impulses caused the jaw to move and the eyes to twitch. It looked like the thing was laughing at her even in death. She gripped the razor wire tightly and finally brought it up to look at it. Tossing it away she started walking towards the body, kicking the head as she walked, ignoring the blood dripping from her hands. It was after she disposed of the body that she even bothered to look at her hands and then the boys who were staring at her peculiarly.

"About time you showed up," Dean muttered.

"Traffic," Angela replied as she walked out of the warehouse towards the Impala.

Dean waited until Angela was gone before looking at Sam and asking, "What is up with her Sam? Ever since the tournament, it's like she's here but not here when we've been on the job."

Sam frowned as he pressed a finger on his head. It was a superficial cut and would heal. He could understand Dean's concerns because he had the same thoughts himself. Once again she shut them both out and he figured that something had to have happened before they left. Since then, she was focused on the job but nothing else.

There was one case where she showed the barest of emotions and that was when they figured out that the girl was reliving Grimm's fairytales, trying to reach out to her father. Every time Sam caught a glimpse of her, she always appeared sad. He had no clue that she could see the girl even though he and Dean couldn't just like she could see reapers and other spirits if she tried.

Seeing Bela again just pissed her off. Sam was surprised that she actually questioned helping Bela by saying, "Why bother? She hasn't obviously learned her lesson from the last time. I doubt she will learn it this time around."

Sam was shocked that she could be that way. Then again he didn't blame her since twice for him and Dean and three times for her, Bela had screwed them over. It was lucky that she suggested that Sam bring the spirit's brother to him. Thinking about it later, Sam realized that she would have suggested it anyway because it was in her nature to help even if the person screwed her over. Bela certainly had shown appreciation but it was received with politeness.

Then there was that case with Gordon Walker. He had been caught in a trap with her and they had to face a vamped up Gordy. Sam couldn't forget the look on her face when she vamped up. Her eyes became glowing orbs and she moved her head in a peculiar fashion. He realized that she could hear him before he said anything and she could see in the dark. When she grabbed Gordon from out of nowhere, it startled him but his fighting instincts were up. Gordon had her in a tight grab and was saying that she had to die because she was evil and that no amount of good works would change that. It was in her blood to be a monster.

Sam didn't hear anymore when he grabbed the razor wire and… It was the same thing she had done to that thing back there. No wonder her mood was not its usual. He replied to Dean's query, "I think it was a bad memory."

"Bullshit Sam."

"Then I don't know. Maybe she got some bad news or something," Sam replied as he followed his brother back to the Impala.

Dean figured that as much too. He couldn't help but wonder if that council thing contacted her and was setting a date for this hearing. That didn't make sense to him since she was practically making tall leaps in a single bound when she told him they granted the hearing. No it had to be something else.

Don't let her chase the demon.

Dean remembered that warning. Did she actually start that up again? He glanced at Sam and was glad that his brother appeared to be lost in thought or concern. Looking ahead and seeing Angela looking at her hands with that inquisitive puppy look Dean decided it was the latter. Well at least Sam didn't suspect something but he certainly was if she was shutting the both of them out. He said out loud, "Just make sure her hands don't bleed all over my baby."

"You're the sorcerer's apprentice Dean."

"Yeah but you're the one who knows how to ask nicely."

"You should try it some time. It might work for you," Sam retorted.

"I do," Dean replied trying to find a witty comeback.

"He just prefers to use a cheesy pickup line to get started," Angela answered for him as she leaned against the trunk of the Impala. "So can we get the show on the road?" She held up her hands like she had goo on them to avoid smearing anything on the Impala.

Dean muttered, "I don't use cheesy pickup lines and you know it." He popped the trunk as he spotted the slight teasing grin on her face. "Just for that you can suffer from Sasquatch's care." He then tossed the box with the first aid at Sam who caught it after fumbling for it slightly. He gave a smirk at his brother and got into the driver seat.

Heber Springs, Arkansas

Everything was normal at the Wilkerson House. The season was about to start and the house had to be gotten into tip top condition. People who rented the house for parties and conferences liked the old planter feel of the place even though the original owners set up shop on the shores of the mineral springs.

Darrell finished wiping down the wooden banister of the staircase leading up to the second floor landing on the east side of the house. It was one of the larger houses and was a bitch to clean every season but when she was polished up, she was a looker.

He had been working as a general caretaker for the Wilkerson House for nearly six months after Old Henry fell and broke his hip. The old man had been caretaker since the house had been sold to the current owners and even before then. Darrell had been the assistant for five years and he liked the old man. While he was in the hospital, the old man tried to tell Darrell everything to do even though Darrell could recite the order of the job in his sleep.

Over the course of three weeks while the old man underwent surgery and recovery, Darrell indulged the old man and learned the job as caretaker. Apparently the old man was convinced that his time was up. Hell even the owners offered the job to Darrell and the old man told him to take it citing that he alone understood the house as well as he did.

Darrell knew that the old man was a little bit crazy. He actually believed that the spirit of the Thomas Wilkerson still lived in the house and that he occasionally made himself known by playing pranks on the guests. Darrell knew that there were incidents where guests have had things go missing and then showing up later. Most of the things were the embarrassing kind. No lasting harm was done and in one or two instances the guests booked a second and third time.

The last visit Darrell paid to Old Henry was just before the old man decided to kick the bucket. It had Darrell out of sorts since he liked the old man but even more so with the information that the old man had given him. He had been sitting next to Old Henry's bed when the old man said that he had something important to tell him. So Darrell scooted his chair forward so he could hear Old Henry better since he spoke in whispers lately.

Old Henry said, "One thing left. Very important."

"Alright Henry," Darrell said. "What do I need to do?"

"Don't touch the prize thoroughbred."

Darrell frowned slightly. As far as he knew the Wilkerson House didn't have any stables. He asked, "What do you mean Henry?"

"In the playroom. The prize thoroughbred."

Darrell knew what Old Henry was talking about. It was a miniature model of a thoroughbred racing horse. It was said that it was a replica of the horse that Thomas owned and supposedly killed him in a freak accident. He asked, "Why Henry?"

"Young Thomas doesn't like his things being touched."

Darrell thought that Old Henry finally lost it but looking at the old man on his deathbed, he could see that he was being serious. He finally said, "Henry, Thomas Wilkerson has been dead for over fifty years."

"He doesn't like his things being touched. He told me so."

Darrell resisted rolling his eyes. It was the same story with the rest of the staff at Wilkerson. Old Henry claimed to have seen and spoken to the ghost of Thomas Wilkerson. He said that the boy would let people stay in his family's house as long as people didn't touch his horse and if he could have a little fun every now and then. Old Henry had told him that and other things that were apparently the whims of Thomas Wilkerson.

Darrell promised to make sure that the horse wouldn't be touched. It sounded ridiculous but it reassured the old man and enabled him to die peacefully in his sleep. Darrell did his best to make sure that the playroom was given a dust over which he personally did himself and avoided opening the closet that held the prize thoroughbred. He knew the rest of the staff would follow the routine that Old Henry had established since Darrell said that they were going to carry on as best as they could as Old Henry had.

Darrell sighed as he finished dusting. Tomorrow the first guests would be coming and he heaved a sigh. The old owners had been indulgent of Old Henry's quirks and the new owners tolerated it because he did his job and the guests were happy. Now that the old man was dead, they decided to make changes. They decided to open the playroom and allow it to be something to amuse the kids at the conference that was booked for that week.

Darrell had protested but the owners said that Old Henry was just being a crazy old coot. It was a waste to have that space and not use it. Darrell tried his best but in the end, the owners had been adamant and said that they would fire the entire staff and replace them in a heartbeat. Darrell wasn't about to let that happen since some of the staff was like Old Henry. It was all they had. When he told them, they said that he had to find Master Thomas and explain.

Darrell thought the staff was crazy but he wasn't going to discredit them completely. Even if he did believe in ghosts, he had no idea how to find Thomas. As he put away his cleaning supplies, he thought about everything Old Henry had relayed to him, trying to figure out how to talk to the ghost. He passed the broom closet and heard a meow.

Turning around he found Mr. Teddy, the tabby belonging to Mrs. Graham, the general housekeeper who had been around about as long as Old Henry. That cat was her constant companion and only one since her kids were ingrates and didn't bother to see her. It was strange that the cat was in the house. He usually stayed in the bungalow that she lived in. Knowing that she would be looking for her cat, Darrell scooped up the animal and took him to the lady's house.

"Oh thank you Darrell. I don't know how he got out. Mr. Teddy usually stays in his basket at this time of night," Mrs. Graham replied as she took the tabby from Darrell.

"It's all right Mrs. Graham. Mr. Teddy probably got scared and he found an opening in a window or something. I'm sure he won't stray far again," Darrell replied smiling. He knew that the old woman wouldn't purposely let her cat out like that. The owners didn't want animals leaving their nature's call everywhere where guests could tread on them.

It vaguely occurred to Darrell that Old Henry's ghost may have done it as a prank but he thought that rather mean of the ghost to do that to the old lady. She was one of the ones who respected the ghost's wishes. If the ghost was having a tantrum over the owners decision then Darrell needed to find him and talk to him.

The best place seemed to be the playroom. Old Henry said that was Thomas' favorite room and he created all sorts of adventures in that room. Darrell opened the door to the newly cleaned room and walked in slowly and as quietly as he could. He looked around and saw the toys that had been left as they had been when Thomas had been alive. Some were rather creepy since they had been handed down generations.

Darrell looked through the darkened room and went in. He shut the door since he didn't want anyone to walk in accidentally and be freaked out if he managed to get the ghost to appear. He had no idea what to do so he decided to try the basics, "Uh hello?"

Nothing happened. The only thing that could be heard was the creaking of the floorboards under Darrell's feet. The air was so still, his breath could be heard. Darrell looked around and tried again, "Hello? Master Thomas? Can I talk to you?"

Darrell thought that nothing was going to happen again until the window of the playroom started to fog up. Darrell thought that he was breathing too much hot air and started to move to wipe it in order to clean it. As he started to move, the room temperature seemed to drop. When he took a breath, the air came out like smoke.

"What do you want?"

Darrell turned to face what looked like a nineteen year old boy looking at him. The kid was pale; there was no coloring on his skin. There appeared to be dark circles under his eyes and there was a gash on his head near the hairline. He was dressed in a riding suit and he held his helmet under one arm. Darrell had no idea if he was dreaming or what. He thought that Old Henry was a rambling old man but standing there in front of him was a ghost. It was a real ghost!

Seeing that the ghost was looking at him in a fit of impatience, Darrell started to speak, "Um I need to talk to you. It's about this room."

"This room is mine. No one can use it."

"I know," Darrell replied as he tried to placate the ghost. "Old Henry told me everything about it. I kept people out but the owners, they want to use the room."

"I don't like people touching my things," the ghost replied. "They need to stay out."

"I tried telling the owners that. They insisted upon using the room. It is for children to play in," Darrell appealed to the ghost. It sounded ridiculous but hell he was desperate at this point. At least the ghost appeared to be listening. "Can you share your things?"

The ghost seemed to think about things for a moment. It looked around the room at everything in there. He then looked at Darrell and studied him. After what seemed like hours, the ghost finally replied, "I will share my things but not my horse. No one touches the horse."

Darrell was willing to work with that. He replied, "I can do that. I will make sure the room where your horse is kept is locked. No one will touch your horse."

"Good. I like to groom him myself. He was my best friend," the ghost replied.

Darrell remembered that Old Henry mentioned that the ghost liked to talk about his horse. The horse was the favorite thing the ghost had when he was alive. He nodded, "I understand that. Thank you for sharing your things."

"If the children don't respect them, I won't allow it again ever."

"I understand."

"I will make the children respect things that don't belong to them. People should always respect people's things. I will teach them a lesson." The ghost flickered slightly.

The sight startled Darrell. He was new to this and frankly the whole experience was freaking him out. Still he had to make sure nothing bad happened to the house. He replied, "I understand. You still can do your other things. The owners haven't said anything about that."

"They want to take my house away don't they?"

"They don't understand."

"I will make them understand," the ghost replied before disappearing and made the door to the playroom fling open.

Darrel stood there wondering what was going to happen now. He got the feeling that he had his work cut out for him. He hoped the owners didn't want to do anything rash.

A/N: And we kick off 2.05 with a hunt and some problems plus the possibility of a case. Stay tuned for the next thrilling chapter of 'Trick'steen Candles...