I have been without wifi for the past few weeks, and am sorry about the delay, but here it is, enjoy!
The impala rumbled, purring as Dean notched the speed up. The car was silent, a tense atmosphere pervading the air. They had agreed to interview the unfortunate victim first thing next morning, and while Dean had been nervous to have a nightmare with his mom in the same room, he thankfully slept like a baby for the first time in weeks.
The acrid taste of burnt coffee lingered in Dean's mouth and he grimaced in distaste. He was nervous, working a case with his mother was something he had never pictured to be doing, and yet here he was, speeding to a nut house to see some pyromaniac. He sighed, man his life was fucked up.
"His name's Frederick Simmons, been admitted to the looney bin since his fire stunt." Mary stated, once again looking through her papers of research.
"You think he'll have anything worth mentioning other than the classic 'haunted house' dilemma?" He asked, catching sight of the white building up ahead; St. Mary's home for the troubled. Iconic.
"What do you mean? This just seems like another poltergeist" Mary replied, her eyes watching the scenery slow down as they approached the hospital.
"Every haunting has a story, and the stories are the key to solving the case. At least, that's what Dad always said" Dean shrugged, parking the Chevy and sliding out. Mary blinked, surprised at just how keen John had taken the hunting business.
They strolled in, alias already planned. "We're reporters, doing a piece on the history of Lincoln. We'd like to talk with Mr. Simmons about his stay at the infamous mansion." Dean lied, flashing his pearly whites at the young receptionist.
The young woman flustered for a second before responding, "Mr. Simmons is a very easily upset man, I don't think that would be prudent"
Dean leaned over, his elbows propped casually on the counter as he replied, "It'll only take a second of his time, I promise" The sudden nearness to the handsome man had the woman giving them the number to his room.
"Did John also teach you that?" Mary asked with humor as they walked up a flight of stairs. Dean looked at her surprised before throwing his head back and barking out a laugh, "That man couldn't sweet talk a rock. He was always impatient, gruff, and awkward at the best of times."
Mary chuckled, "Not surprising, he looked like a fish out of water the first time he tried talking to me"
The thought of his dad, young and in love, had Dean smiling painfully. The ex-marine had been a hard man, but from the looks of it, had loved Mary to his very core.
Dean straightened his jacket, and knocked on the door to Simmons room, a meek 'enter' responding through the door. The room was small, sparse of much furniture except for a bed, a closet and a desk. The window looked down into a small garden, filling the room with sunlight.
Frederick Simmons was 62 by now, hunched over in a wheel chair. His face and 85% percent of his body were covered in burns, giving him the look of a wannabe elder in 'Nightmare on Elm street'. He looked up, his eyes hooded by horrible burn scars. "You came about the house" It was more a statement than a question, and Mary nodded slowly, sitting in a chair next to the man, "We want to know more about the interior and its history" She said, keeping up the story.
The man looked at her and laughed, "You want to know what's in it. I know that look anywhere. People have been here before, bothering me for the same stuff. All I can tell you is that the house is alive through the children. They won't let go until someone has brought the light onto the killer"
"The killer? The house caught on fire, didn't it?" Dean asked, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed.
The old man laughed again, "You might want to ask them yourself. They have a different story to tell you." Dean's eye twitched, he was getting nervous just being around the deranged man.
"We have to go to the house then?" He asked. At that, the elder looked up sharply, assessed Dean with weary eyes, "You won't make it. There's too much pain in both of you. The children can sense it; they know the right buttons to push"
Mary steered the topic into a different question as she saw Dean getting antsy at the old man, "Do you know why they would take the children? Do you think they're still alive?"
"They work in mysterious ways; they want to get noticed. The missing children are just bait for Marceline" The man whispered, his shaky hands grasping at Mary's, "Who's Marceline?" Mary implored softly.
The man seemed to be in a trance, his eyes as wide as saucers, "She'll kill you both". The statement laid a profound silence in the room before he whispered again, "Please leave town, don't come back"
Mary and Dean walked out in silence, both mulling over the new information. As they climbed back into the car, Dean stated, "Guess now we know something bigger is at work here. I'll call Sam, he might know what we're dealing with"
"I think we need to go to the house tonight. This is obviously the work of some vengeful spirit that isn't gonna stop. And if those kids are still alive, we need to get them out" Mary stated determined.
Dean chewed the inside of his lip, "If we do that, were practically running in blind"
"We're hunters, this is what we do, we save people, and if those kids are alive, then I'm getting them out as soon as I can"
The hunter sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, finally conceding, "Fine, we go tonight"
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