Sam checked motel alarm clock yet again, the red light blinding his eyes. It read 1:37 am. He never could sleep well until his brother made his way back to the room. He had driven 600 miles that day too, and he did hours of research this afternoon, driving around town looking for the old water mill. He was dog-tired, but he still couldn't sleep. Whenever Dean was on a bender, Sam knew that he could easily end up too drunk to get back, certainly too drunk to drive. Usually he just brought bottles of whiskey back to the room and drank until he passed out, but sometimes he would go to bars to meet 'new people', code for easy women. Sam knew why Dean went off and got seriously hammered. Sam herd Dean toss and turn every night. Sometimes Dean would cry out, sit straight up in be, gun drawn, pointing into the darkness. Every once in a while, Dean would wake up and run to the bathroom, retching up whatever crap fast food they had for dinner. He finally knew what it was like for Dean when he had had nightmares/visions all those years ago. Sam tried to help in the only way he knew how, but Dean would never talk about it, he would just try to drink his problem away. The nights he passed out seemed to calm him for a little while, made it possible for him to sleep sometimes at least, but he would drink so much that he would have a horrible hang over the next morning. At least Sam didn't have to hold back his hair.
Sam heard the door slam, he hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. Dean shuffled next to the bed. A few seconds later he got hit with a wall of alcohol stench. How much did he have tonight? Sam was grateful that Dean was able to find his way back to the motel. Usually Dean would call Sam's phone trying to explain where he was in his inebriated state. Sam would have to figure out where he was and pick him up. Luckily that was not the case tonight. Dean flopped onto his bed, it squeaked and bounced loudly under his weight. Sam rolled over, now that Dean was back, maybe he could actually get some sleep. They had a lot of work to do tomorrow.
The next morning (a few hours later), Sam and Dean made their way into the neighborhood diner, partly for the food, for they boasted the self-proclaimed best baked apple pancakes in the state, and partly for the local color. Sam paused, waiting for the hostess, but Dean walked straight to the nearest booth, catching the waitresses eye and gesturing to the booth, wordlessly telling her they were going to sit there. Sam rolled his eyes and scooted into the booth. Dean gingerly did the same thing, making faces of discomfort as he did so. Sam was going to ask, but decided against it, the reason was obvious from last night. The waitress came over, threw the menus on the table, and said in an annoyed tone, "whaddaya want?" Dean brushed his hand through his hair and down his neck, trying to shake his post binge headache. Glancing at the window ad and then back at the older, frumpy waitress he said, "I'll have the best baked apple pancake in the state and coffee, black." He flashed her the best smile he could conjure at the moment. She asked, "It'll take 'bout an hour, that still okay?" not really caring what the answer was. Dean nodded. Sam rolled his eyes again, but he supposed that the time could be used to talk to the many locals already eating in the diner. The waitress looked at Sam, "What about you, hun?" Sam glanced over the breakfast menu "Do you serve egg white omelets?" Sam asked hopefully. The waitress just stared at him with a vague look. Sam said, "right, never mind," and ordered the vegetarian omelet and water.
When the waitress had gone, Dean asked Sam, "whadda we got?" Sam took out his laptop and a stack of papers from his shoulder bag. Sam was off to the races, "Well, this is a job for us. The most recent victim was found down by the old water mill, drowned, but here is the weird part, the river has been dry for over fifty years. Up river, they dammed it up, making land available for these newer towns around here. So I did some digging in the town records and found some old newspaper clippings and several coroners reports. The water mill at the edge of town was owned and operated by a ruthless businessman, Mr. Matchitehew. When a worker fell into the water off a near by dock, he was pulled under the water wheel, lodged, and drowned. When they finally got the man out from under the wheel, his body was crushed in several places, unassumingly by the paddles of the wheel. The owner was charged with reckless homicide when the sheriff realized that there were no safety precautions built into the mill, specifically the paddle wheel. The he dodged the charges claiming that the sheriff had no jurisdiction over him, which turned out to be true. Several more workers were killed in the same way over then next few years, but Mr. Matchitehew kept pushing his workers and never implemented any safety precautions. When the river was dammed up, the mill of course became useless. Mr. Matchitehew went bankrupt and died in the old mill, having no where else to go."
Dean thought for a moment when Sam paused in his explanation and replied, "so, you think we are dealing with cursed objects?" Sam affirmed with, "Or in this case, a cursed building." Dean furrowed his brow, "This could just be a normal crime. Maybe someone drowned the victim and then dragged his body over to the dry river bed. I mean, this could be nothing." Sam nodded but said, "I know, I think the only way to find out for sure is to figure out if there have been any other drownings in the area." Dean slowly nodded and said, "well, we should check and see if there are any legends or stories about the mill or the drowning." Sam decided that they should ask around the restaurant. Dean agreed, but said that as soon as his food came he was going to shove his face until he couldn't take any more. Sam laughed once and stood up from the booth.
Sam went over to a group of laughing, smiling women, maybe the local sewing group Sam thought sarcastically. "Excuse me ladies, but I am a reporter for the Springfield Historical Society, would you mind if I ask you about the old water mill outside of town?" All of the women stopped laughing and somberly looked him in the eye. They said almost in unison, "you shouldn't go down there, it's not safe." Same was taken aback, "what do you mean, why? What happened there?" The women looked at each other. The bravest one answered, "I don't really know why, but it's dangerous there. My parents and grandparents warned me repeatedly about that mill. There must be a reason. I think a few people have gotten hurt over there a long time ago and now the town is weary of it." The other women nodded and looked slightly distressed. Sam talked to several other patrons in the diner with similar results. He looked back and saw Dean back at their booth, shoving his face, just as he promised. Sam joined him and tired to make sense of the stories he heard. Dean burst out with, "this is the best pancake I ever had. It is basically like a huge bear claw, or apple fritter, whatever. It is so good!" Dean's eyes rolled back in pleasure. Sam looked at his food. The omelet looked runny and not very appetizing, but the food here was cheep, so he cut into it with the side of his fork, idly looking over the research again. He was disappointed to find that his vegetarian omelet had only cheese and mushrooms, no spinach or tomatoes or anything. He sighed and continued eating.
Sam broke the eating frenzy across from him, "Dean, did you get a strange responses from all of the towns people?" Dean said, his mouth full, "Whado ou mean?" Sam elaborated, "Well, I kept getting the same response from everyone, the same story, or non story as I should say. But everyone used the same words even, it was like a bad cover story, but they all seemed very sincere." Dean swallowed and said, "yea your right, that is pretty weird I guess. It seems like they're all scared of the mill but none of them know why, like they all got painted with the same brush." Sam was slightly amazed, "yea, like their reaction is subconscious, maybe even subliminal. Nice one Dean." Sam couldn't hid the surprise from his voice. Dean leaned back and patted his full stomach, "When we leave here, lets head over to the police station and see if we can't scam up some police reports and coroner reports, maybe there is a pattern or connection here." Sam smiled but pushed his half eaten omelet to the side.
They drove to the police station, dressed in their suits. Sam fiddled with the fake badge and ID in its worn leather cover. He never trusted them like Dean seemed to, he always worried that they would be caught, and rightly so for they had been a few times. Dean looked over and saw Sam's reservations, "Quit worrying, Sam. It'll be fine. In a small town like this, they'll jump through hoops to cooperate with us." Sam's response was a defeated, "yea, whatever." Dean led the way into the police station. Sam took one last deep breath, getting into character, before following him. Dean walked up to the desk and introduced them, "Morning officer. We're FBI. I'm agent Jefferson and my partner, agent Adams." They dug their false badges from their jacket pockets, flashing them quickly but professionally. The woman's eyes widened slightly. "We are here on behalf of the Federal Water Safety Commission." The officer collected herself and asked, "What can we do for you, agents?" Sam approached and said confidently, "We are going to need all of the police and coroner's reports of all drownings on file." She looked questioningly, "Why?" Sam was slightly hesitant but Dean recovered their story saying, "We need to see if there was anyway they could have been prevented, decide which were accidents and which were not, and implement disciplinary action if necessary." Now she really was shocked and let out an, "Oh… give me some time to round those records up for you. It might take a little time." Dean said in closing, "We are going to investigate the dry river bed and mill, we'll be back in an hour. Have those records ready." She quickly nodded her head in slight distress and before going into the back she called to them, "If you are going down to the mill, be careful, it's not safe." Sam and Dean exchanged a look.
As they drove towards the edge of town Sam remarked, "Did you really have to scare the poor woman?" Dean replied pompously, "What? Intimidation is the lawman's most effective tool." Dean smiled and laughed. Sam sighed and turned to look out the window. He watched as they passed through the town's shabby main stretch, one of the handful of small residential areas, and a few lone abandoned houses that looked like they were being consumed by the surrounding woods. They drove for a total of about ten minuets, pulling over by the dry river bed, the mill on the other side. Stepping out of the car, Sam spotted a foot bridge that lead over to the other side of the 'river,' more of a gorge at this point. He looked at Dean and motioned with his head toward the bridge. Dean circled round to the back of the car, popped the trunk and got what he thought they might need, just in case. "It looks like this might get dirty," Dean said as he grabbed some extra clothes from the trunk and threw some to Sam. They both changed quickly, Sam looking cautiously around first, to check for witnesses. After carefully placing the suits into their bags (there is no excuse for a dirty suit when trying to play the part) he grabbed a long iron axe with a worn wooden handle, his current weapon of choice. He threw the crowbar, form follows function, to his brother. He looked at Sam and closed the trunk. As they walked toward the mill Sam remarked, "This place looks pretty old and run down, but no more than usual for an abandoned old building." As they climbed up the rickety stairs and went inside to investigate, Dean said, "yea, it doesn't seem any more dangerous than any of the other dead buildings in the area." The grinding wheels had fallen from the second floor above, crashing through both floors, into the ground below. The boards had splintered and buckled under the weight. Support beams had fallen in, and there was evidence of wildlife intrusion. Dean started going up the stairs to the second floor, but the first step he tried split right through where his foot was. "Guess we ain't goin' up there," he said.
Sam started out through the back door, "Lets check out the water wheel." As he approached it a spirit appeared right in front of him. It looked like an old time worker, in overalls, work shirt, and cap. It looked directly into his eyes urgently and said, "You shouldn't be here, it isn't safe!" Sam was surprised, but took a swing at it, his iron crowbar passing right through it with a whoosh, making the ghost disappear for now. Sam looked over to Dean. "Don't spirits only come out at night?" Dean said. Sam looked just as surprised, "Yea, this one must have a really strong presence here. Or should I say, they must have strong presence." All around them, shades and spirits appeared. They saw the forms of several teenagers, a few adults, more workers, and a hiker. Dean thought he could point out the most recent victim. They all repeated the same warning: "What are you doing here? You should be here. It isn't safe." A strange noise started coming from the water wheel. Sam and Dean looked and saw that it began to turn, water trickling from behind them towards the wheel, quickly growing into a fast current. Dean said with controlled fear in his voice, "Sammy, lets get out of here." They both ran as fast as they could around the mill, out of the raging current that had formed, toward the foot bridge. Sam slipped several times, because he had been closer to the wheel, loosing his balance. Dean rushed back to his little brother, dragging him to safety, clumsily dropping his favorite axe in the process. They made it across the bridge that seemed to be collapsing and into the car. Dean shoved in the keys and started the old girl up. They drove off at top speed, leaving divots of mud and water behind them.
