Author's Note: Ok. So hopefully this chapter satisfies your Supernatural fix for a bit ^.^ I wanted to put more Dean protectiveness in but I don't want too much just yet. I'm going to stop typing before I give anything away on accident! Enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I still do not own these lovely boys and their sexy goodness. But if I ever did get to own them I would be happy forever.
Avordton, Ohio was a small town with one major road running through it. Either side of that road was lined with tall, old trees and mom and pop diners. There as one gas station, a bakery, a grocery store, a boutique, and a barber. That was it for the main road. There were many small country roads that broke off the one they drove down. Most winding away toward the large manors that were known to inhabit this area. The one they were looking for was the second to last turn-off. The road was bumpy and shrouded in shadows by the thick canopy of leaves overhead.
"How far until we reach this place?" Dean asked, his eyes turned to his little brother. Sam's face looked pale without the sunlight and his shaggy hair hid most of his expression, but Dean could still see the hard set of his jaw. He was hurting. That made Dean even more eager to kill this ghost. His grip tightened on the steering wheel.
Sam took a moment to respond, his body readjusting to a more comfortable position, his right arm laying over his lap and his shoulder muscles tight to brace against the bumps, "Not too far. It should be about a mile or two from the main road. You're going to have to turn down another road to get to it."
"I still think we should just head to the motel and start in on this tomorrow. Give your shoulder a chance to heal somewhat. We can ask around town tonight. See what people know," Dean said his voice gruff. The thought of Sam going into a hunt, much less a hunt in a mine, with his right shoulder out of whack was not appealing. They would be vulnerable down there.
"If we let this thing go another night there could be a new victim to add to the list, Dean. We have to get rid of this thing as fast as possible. Before another kid dies," Sam was set in his opinion. He didn't want to miss the chance to end this before it got any worse. One kid dead was enough, but ten? That was ten too many.
"I still don't like it."
Dean turned down the small road Sam pointed out and began the trek up to the house. The "road" was more of a trail though. Cars obviously hadn't driven this path in years. Vines and flowers and grass had overtaken the red dirt gravel that had once covered this land. Soon, the path was too thick with vegetation to drive any further. That only made Dean like this even less. He had a bad feeling about tonight. And every time he got a bad feeling it never turned out good.
Sam and Dean climbed from the car, Sam a little slower than Dean, carefully extracting his long body without jostling his shoulder too much. Still, Dean didn't miss his slight grimace when his shoulder brushed a nearby tree. His bad feeling was growing more and more by the minute. He sighed and popped open the trunk, lifting the false bottom and revealing the artillery hidden beneath.
He grabbed his shotgun, a dozen rock salt rounds, and a canteen of lighter fluid before turning to Sam who was attempting to grab his own shotgun and rounds. It wasn't working out too well. He had hunted with only one good hand before but it never got any easer it seemed. After a few minutes he looked at Dean expectantly, his shotgun hanging at his side and his spare rounds tucked away in his pocket. Dean shook his head but shut the trunk and led the way up the drive.
They walked for about ten minutes before the manor came into view. It was huge. The white clapboard covered with vines and the sidewalk up to the porch cracked and crumbling. The front door hung at an awkward angle on its hinges and most of the windows were broken. This house had to be at least one hundred years old and it had been vacant for thirty of those years. Why were kids just now starting to disappear though? Shouldn't this have been happening for years? Their ghost friend had died nearly forty years ago, so why start attacking now all of a sudden?
When they reached the sidewalk leading to the porch Dean thought he knew why the killings had just started. Biohazard signs and police tape were scattered across the overgrown front yard. One strip of police tape fluttered eerily in the wind, half of it tied around a thick tree trunk. This place was locked down tight for a while by the look of things. But now people were venturing back into its depths, and not making it out alive.
"Looks like up until the last year or so this place was completely shut down, no one allowed in or out. That would explain why the killings just started," Sam's voice echoed his thoughts as he crouched down to read one of the fallen signs, "'Caution: Hazardous gases present. Do not enter'. So much for that warning."
Dean didn't comment, heading toward the front door. He wanted to avoid the mines tonight at all cost. They could investigate those once Sam's shoulder wasn't completely immobile. This house could keep them busy for two or three hours Dean guessed. It was three stories and he guessed there was probably a basement. Most of the older houses they investigated had huge basements. Ghosts loved a good basement, "Alright let's go."
They made their way cautiously up the rotting steps to the front door, shotguns held up and ready for anything. Dean's eyes darted around everywhere, trying to double and triple check everything before ducking under the door. Sam was close behind, bending his huge body in half to enter the house. Inside it smelled like mildew and dust. It wasn't a pleasant smell but it also wasn't anything new in their line of work. Most places they visited either smelled like blood and death or old creepiness. Why couldn't they go somewhere that smelled halfway decent? Always the big, creepy houses or the cold, creepier morgues.
Ahead of them was a grand staircase that twisted up to the second floor. It was probably pretty at one point, but now it was covered in dust, debris, and spider webs. Nothing grand about that. Even if it wasn't night yet with all the trees around things got dark here quickly, Dean could barely make out anything besides the staircase. Sam's flashlight flicked on and Dean turned to see his right hand gripping the small light tightly. His face was twisted in pain but he didn't seem to want to let it bother him. Dean grabbed his own flashlight from his pocket and flicked it on, sweeping it over the area around them. A doorway to their left, a hallway to their right, and another hallway in front of them. This was definitely going to take a while.
"Let's see what's behind door number one," Dean said, his boot kicking open the old door. It let out a whining creak as his moved on unoiled hinges. If the ghost wasn't aware of their presence before there was no doubt he knew they were here now. Perfect.
Sam was trying very hard not to show his pain. He could see the worry on Dean's face every time he looked at him. He hated making his brother worry like that. So he put on his strong face, ignored the pain, and followed his brother to the house. It was an old thing, shattered and broken from years of disuse. Nature was taking over.
When they reached the door he knew he would need to fight not to show any pain. The door hanging at an odd angle that would be difficult to get his tall body through. Dean ducked under the door with ease. He envied his brother sometimes for being four inches shorter than him. It made things a lot easier in cases like this where height was a disadvantage. He had to almost bend in half to make it through the door, his right shoulder burning and throbbing painfully. But he fought to keep his face a mask of nothingness. No pain, no emotion. Nothing.
When he stood inside the house it was hard to discern anything besides a decrepit staircase. It was already dark in here. He reached into his pocket with his right hand, wincing slightly when his shoulder moved. He clicked on the small light and scanned it over the area. The floor was covered with dust and debris and the wallpaper was peeling off the walls revealing yellowing plaster beneath.
"This place is a mess," Sam said as Dean clicked on his own flashlight. Things didn't look any better even with twice the light now.
The door being kicked open echoed through the house, the loud screeching of its hinges reverberating throughout the building. No way would their presence go unnoticed now. That ghost would know they were here and would probably show up at any moment. Just like usual on one of their hunts.
"Let's move quickly. That ghost will probably show its ugly face any second now. No way we're going unnoticed with all the racket those rusty hinges made," Dean said, his gun held at the ready as he swept his flashlight across the room. There were rusty pots and pans scattered on the floors and counters, pieces of glass and porcelain covered the floors making soft crunching noises when they moved. Obviously, this was once a bustling kitchen. There was a huge gas stove in one corner and a wide hearth in another. A chipped pot lay on its side next to the heart, a stain coating the floor beneath it. Whoever had lived here last left in a rush. And in the middle of meal time too.
"Whoever lived here was in a hurry to leave. But why? Was out friendly neighborhood ghost haunting them?" Dean asked, voicing Sam's thoughts. Something had driven the previous owners of this house away, and he wouldn't be surprised if it was their ghost.
"Alright, it doesn't look like there's anything worth finding in here. Let's head back out and check the other rooms," Dean said, one last sweep revealing nothing out of the ordinary.
They headed back out to the main foyer and searched the rest of the first floor. There was a parlor, a dining room, a study, a few bedrooms, and a small library. But nothing turned up in any of those rooms. Just more signs of the panic the former residents had left in. scattered papers and clothes and torn sheets and curtains. The second floor was much different.
On the third floor they found a room with a padlock on the handle. The first one in the house to be barricaded in any way.
"Looks like our former residents had a secret they wanted to keep hidden," Dean said, bending down to inspect the lock more closely.
"Why would one room in this entire house be locked up? Especially on the third floor right by the stairs? What could they have been hiding?" Sam asked, hearing the click of the lock.
"Let's find out," Dean pulled the lock from the handled and opened the door cautiously. It opened silently on its hinges. The only door in the entire house that didn't make a sound.
Inside the room things were still very well preserved. This room had to have been locked for years. The furnishings were old and outdated with a thick layer of dust covering them. A canopy bed was pushed against the far wall, the posts still intact but dull from negligence. The quilt at the foot of the bed was a faded red while the sheets and pillows were yellow with age. The nightstands on either side of the bed looked like they were made from very old wood, along with the matching dresser against the opposite wall.
Sam brushed his hand across the top of the dresser, it came away black with dust, "This room hasn't been occupied in years. My guess is the last family here wasn't even using it. This furniture has to be at least eighty years old. Maybe even older. This could be the first furniture ever placed in here. How much do you wanna bet this was McCreary's room when he was still living? No wonder the family would keep it locked up. If they thought his ghost was hanging around they wouldn't want the children wandering into his room and getting killed."
"That would make sense. But-" Dean was cut off when a lamp on one of the nightstands came flying at his head. He dodged just in time, the lamp slamming into the wall and shattering into a million little pieces that showered the floor.
Standing in front of one of the windows, only slightly illuminated by the faint light that could permeate the trees, was the ghost they had met on the road. Adam McCreary's ghost.
Well? I tried for a little cliffy since most of this chapter was pretty dull. But no worries! I'll try to make the next chapter more exciting! Hopefully I'll have it up within the next few days ^.^ Reviews are greatly appreciated! :D
