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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.
European Ghosts
Chapter 1
Brown Lady of Raynham Hall
Sam winced every time the tennis ball hit the wall of the MOL bunker kitchen. A breakfast in peace was apparently too much to ask of his bored brother Dean.
"Seriously Dean, if you throw that thing one more time…"
"What are you gonna do Sam, stick me in the corner with a dunce cap on my head?"
Sam stabbed his spoon over and over again mashing the banana up in the bowl of soupy oatmeal. Even he was bored but Sam would never admit it to Dean.
It wasn't as if the Winchesters hadn't had their fill of adventure as well as folly. They had saved the world several times over, both been to Hell and Heaven and watched as Angels rained down on the Earth.
Dean's particular blooper reel consisted of accepting the mark of Cain and becoming a one man killing machine. He had been trapped in Purgatory with a charming vampire, broke the heart of the King of Hell with his unrequited bromance and had a deep seated obsession and confused feelings for Castiel.
Sam had had been yanked from Hell sans soul, got hooked on demon blood and bedded said demon and set the apocalypse in motion.
It was official; the Winchesters had just about done it all.
"Hey Sammy, do you think there's anything exciting going on out there?"
"Huh?"
"Check the internet bitch."
"Shut up jerk I'm trying to finish breakfast. You could always go jogging with me later."
Dean bolted from his seat and yelled for Cas. "Help Cas, Sam is gonna make me do stuff."
The familiar rumble of the Angel's deep voice came from right behind Dean. "I've been watching you and listening."
The green eyed Hunter turned and batted his lashes, "Really…including my morning shower? Angel pervert."
Castiel was confused but then Dean often had that effect on him. "No, you both need excitement, a change of scenery perhaps. I decided to bring you both to Europe to hunt monsters and ghosts."
Sam was immediately interested, "Yeah, that would be great! Dean, just think of all the interesting history there. It would be like hunting and going on a vacation!"
"Not gonna happen." Dean hitched his thumb toward his chest. "This guy doesn't fly and besides I'm not a mega geek like you."
Castiel grabbed Sam by the hand and wrapped his other arm a little too tight around Dean's waist. "I wasn't asking you to go Dean, I was telling you."
In the blink of an eye the Hunters and Angel of the Lord vanished.
…
They appeared in a wheat field behind Raynham Hall. Sam looked around confused at first but then he spotted the grand structure in the distance and knew exactly where they were.
Dean grumped, "Sam you have mega dimples which means you're pretty excited. Where the hell are we?"
Sam held up his laptop, "Let me tell you all about it Dean."
His big brother let out a groan, "This blows."
Castiel waved to them from the edge of the field where a picnic lunch was set up for the brothers.
The Winchesters began their trek through the wheat with Dean growling something about cold beer.
…...
His hunger and thirst sated, Dean relaxed under the old growth tree staring up at the sun dappled leaves shaking gently in the breeze. Castiel lightly toyed with the spikes of blonde hair on Dean's head and for the moment the Hunter figured maybe these European ghost hunts wouldn't be so bad.
Sam was absentmindedly picking at a salad as he read over the history of Raynham Hall and the haunting there. He began to unravel the tangled story for his brother.
Lady Dorothy Walpole was a high born lady of the early seventeen hundreds, sister to Robert Walpole the first Prime Minister of Great Britain. As such she should have been valued, protected and, above all, watched. How she could have simply vanished from the society of her time is simply unexplainable.
She was the wife of the violent Charles Townshend who, it was rumored had discovered that she had been the mistress of Lord Wharton before the marriage and remained Wharton's mistress after also. In retaliation Townshend locked her away in her room when she stayed until death. You would think that someone would have noticed when she disappeared.
It was also thought that perhaps her disappearance was due to the revenge driven wife of Lord Wharton, the Countess of Wharton, who trapped Dorothy in her room and kept her there under lock and key until Dorothy's death in 1726, supposedly from smallpox.
You would think that Lord Wharton would have noticed his mistress was missing. Busy man that he was what with his gathering of titles, including that of Earl and Marquess of Wharton in the early years of the century and his years in parliament, still you would think that he could have taken just a little time to look for her. Of course, Lord Wharton was known throughout society as a man "void of moral or religious principles". The most striking charge against him was that in 1682, when drunk, he had broken into a church in Great Barrington, Gloucestershire and relieved d himself against the communion table and in the pulpit. So, as noted, he was a busy man.
In any event Dorothy's ghost was first seen in Raynham Hall, the ancestral home of the Whartons at Christmas time in 1835 so it looks like it was Countess Wharton after all who got her revenge. The sighting, by a Colonel Loftus, led to some of the staff leaving their employment.
The following year she was spotted by Captain Frederick Marryat, a close friend to Charles Dickens and a dyed in the bone skeptic. Enraged at the assault on his skepticism he shot the poor lady. Evidently traumatized by her meeting with Marryat the ghost did not reappear until 1926 when Lady Townsend, her son and her son's friend claimed to have seen Dorothy descending the stairs dressed in her signature brown brocade dress, now out of date by some two hundred years.
In the fall of 1936 a photographer, Captain Hubert Provand and his female assistant, Indre Shira, were hired by Country Life magazine to take interior shots of Raynham Hall for an upcoming article. The Captain had already taken one shot of the well-known and admired Raynham staircase and was relocating the equipment for a different angle when he looked up and saw Dorothy descending the stair.
The picture that he and Indre managed to take has become one of the most well know ghost photographs of all time. County Life published it and it went round the world. Even Life magazine in the United States published the picture. Many have claimed that the phonograph is a fake, a hoax perpetrated by Captain Provand although why he would have done such a thing is mysterious considering the trouble it brought him in defending himself
So Dorothy seems to still haunt the Hall. No one knows exactly how she died or where she was laid to rest or even if she was ever laid to rest at all.
…...
Moonlight peered through the wavy glass of Raynham hall, painting the famous staircase with light. A click resounded through the silent house and the sound of a door creaking on its hinges followed.
Upstairs a closet door swung open and two dark shadows moved into the open hall.
"Damn it Sammy. Give me a minute to get the blood flowing in my leg again." Dean Winchester whined. 'You were sitting on it for hours."
"Get over it, Dean." Sam snapped back. "It was pretty damn snug in that closet. Where the hell did you expect me to go? Beside the museum only closed a half hour ago. You usually aren't this whiney, big brother"
"Sam, Dean," a hushed voice whispered. "Now is not the time. Go find your ghost. I need to get back to Heaven soon and I don't want to leave you on the wrong side of the ocean overnight."
"Ok, ok, Cas." Dean grumped. "I just need a second then we'll go find the lady. Hold on."
The Winchesters split up. Sam headed in the direction of the stairs and Dean began to canvas the hallway, opening each door in turn. Both Hunters held out a silent EMF reader and shuffled along as silently as possible. There were likely to be security guards somewhere in the house. After all, an historical English home was a pretty obvious target for burglars what with antique trinkets scattered everywhere for the benefit of the tourist hordes.
Sam was first to pick up a trace of activity. A thin and dissipating scent of supernatural activity activated the EMF dial at the top of the stairs. He turned and followed the faint trail down the hall. Surprisingly it did not lead to the hallway with all the bedrooms.
"Dean," Sam hissed as quietly as possible. "Cas?" he tried when Dean didn't answer. With a flutter of wings the Angel appeared.
"What do you need, Sam?" the seraph asked.
"I'm on her trail, Cas." Sam whispered. "Could you go get Dean? We might be able to get you back to Heaven right away."
A moment later there was the rustle of angel feathers and Dean appeared, slightly flustered, at Sam' s back.
"You better have something good, bitch." he muttered "sending Cas to Angel-nap me. You know I hate Angel airways."
"Come on Dean," Sam held the ticking EMF out in front. "Stop complaining, I'm on her trail."
Following the flickering light they came to a set of double doors at the end of a small, dark hall. Sam pulled a door open and they were confronted by a linen closet, stacked high with sheets and comforters.
"This is just great, Sam." Dean hissed. "You've discovered where they keep the laundry. Score points for you."
"Shut up, jerk."
Even here, at a dead end, the EMF still flickered.
Sam pulled out some linens and handed them to Dean to deal with. He finally cleared a shelf and they could see the panels of an old door at the back.
The shelves slid out easily. They weren't even nailed in, only resting on side braces. The old doorway was cleared. Sam pushed and it swung in on old creaky and very possibly rusty hinges. Beyond was a dim, dark room. Only weak moonlight streaming through a dusty window provided any light at all.
"I think this was her room," Sam spoke softly. There was sadness and misery in the air, clutching at their throats. Dean's flash light revealed ancient rugs and scraps of material flung down all over the floor.
"Be careful, Dean." Sam whispered harshly. "Remember she was supposed to have died of small pox."
"This room looks like someone died here for sure." Sam continued. "It looks like they just took her body out and shut the door. No wonder she haunts. If I was her I'd want out of here too."
Dean cleared the old fireplace and checked the flue. They didn't really want to be trapped in a closed room, thick with sorrow and unvented smoke. Sam kicked the stained material along the floor and they pushed it into the fireplace gingerly then Dean lit it up.
As the old rags burned the air strangely cleared. As the flames shot up the chimney they seemed to take all the centuries with them.
"I hope these guys never find out we just got rid of one of England's most famous ghosts." Dean said, as he stood next to his brother and watched the fire burn.
"If we're lucky they'd just toss us out of the country. If we were not so lucky I bet we'd find out what the inside of the tower of London looks like."
Behind then Castiel laughed.
…
Once they were sure the room was clear Castiel appeared back in the MOL bunker with his arm tight around Dean's waist and his hand loosely on Sam's shoulder.
Sam plopped down in a desk chair and did a spin like a giant kid. "That was great Cas." He stopped by planting his hands on the large table and opened up his laptop, "Maybe I should look for another place."
Elated over Sam's positive reaction to the adventure the Angel gave Dean a hip squeeze, "You are so quiet Dean. Did you have a nice time?"
It wasn't lost on the handsome Hunter that the Angel wasn't letting go. He didn't enjoy the traveling even by Angel Airways but figured it meant Castiel would give him more face time instead of hiding out in Heaven mending fences.
"Sure, I'd do it again but only if you come with us."
The Angel let go of Dean and clasped his hands in front of him almost demurely, "Of course, how in the world would you both get there and back? We can do this again on one condition; I pick the places so it's always a surprise."
The three agreed and thus began European hunts.
TBC