Here's the next chapter, guys. I'm sorry for the wait. I couldn't write during the week, because since my parents are divorced I go to each house half the time, and my dad doesn't have the internet. I got back to my mom's house a couple of days ago, but I kinda put off writing because I was tired from work, and then I had some writer's block trying to figure out how Sam and Dean are going to spend their visit to the Winchester Mystery House. Please read and review, or I won't write anymore. No, just kidding, I will write, but I'll be VERY depressed about it, and probably end up killing a character or something. Some of you might want that anyway, but whatever. Okay, none of this has anything to do with the story...sorry for my rant...I'll write now.

Sam Winchester struggled in his sleep, further entwining the thin blankets around his long legs as his body thrashed around on the motel room floor. His dark hair was drenched with sweat, and his usually smiling face was contorted into a pained expression as his next nightmare unfolded before him. He had slept the majority of the night peacefully, even having some sort of dream involving Dean taking tap lessons and playing the accordion, and it wasn't until the early hours of morning that the visions had begun to plague him.

It was night, and he and Dean were walking through the hallways of what he assumed by its immense size was the Winchester Mansion. Dean walked in front of him, alert as always with a flashlight and a pistol at the ready.

"Sam, what exactly are we expecting to happen?"

"I don't know, Dean, just...anything. We need to kill Sarah Winchester's ghost before any more of the workers die."

"She's not just going to appear before us, Sammy, this house is huge. We could literally be miles away from her now." Dean reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out his homemade EMF meter and taking readings of the surrounding area. "Man, this thing is going off," he observed.

"Well, there's supposed to be lots of spirits here. We have no way of detecting which one is Sarah, and there's not really any point trying to kill any of the other ghosts. People come from all over to see this house, we should probably leave it haunted."

"I know I said it was Sarah earlier, man, but we could be wrong. I mean, we haven't seen her..."

"Dean, we're also not construction workers, remember? We're going to have to look harder, like we would if it were any other ghost." Sam stopped suddenly, touching his hand to his forehead.

"What's wrong, Sammy?" asked Dean with concern.

"Nothing...I just...don't you HEAR that?"

"Hear what, Sam?"

Sam grimaced. "It's so LOUD, Dean, come on!"

"WHAT, Sammy? What is it? What's so loud?"

"The hammering, and drilling, and...EVERYTHING..."

"You mean, like construction noises? Some people have said that they hear people working-"

"-Not like this, Dean, it's just getting louder! And...there's gunshots..."

"Gunshots? I don't think anyone has ever heard gunshots, but you are ultra-sensitive, remember?"

Sam screamed, now clutching his head with both hands. Dean rushed to his side, placing an arm around his younger brother.

"Come on, Sammy!" he cried, his panic now evident. "What is it?"

Sam didn't answer, but simply walked over to the nearest wall and placed a hand on it for balance.

Dean stood in front of him, pointing his gun out into the darkness of the hallway as if challenging whatever may come forward. He wasn't going to let anything hurt his brother. He gasped in surprise as the pistol flew from his hands, apparently of its own volition.

A booming voice emerged out of the darkness to answer for this latest occurrence. It wasn't from a woman, as was expected from both of the brothers, but from a man. "NO GUN SHALL BE BROUGHT HERE. YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR ACTIONS."

Dean was immediately thrown against the wall, and, when nothing else happened, he glanced worriedly in the direction of his brother. Sam was staring back at him, his expression one of terror. The window immediately beside him was now open. Dean attempted to run towards his younger sibling, but he discovered that he could not move. Cold, invisible hands were holding him in place, forcing him to watch what was about to happen. Sam screamed as he felt himself being pushed out the window, into the night. He was falling, falling...

"SAM! SAMMY! Wake up, come on, WAKE UP!"

Sam opened his eyes and sat up with a start, gasping for breath and staring into the terrified and worried face of Dean Winchester.

"What was it, Sammy? Another vision? Did Sarah kill someone else?"

"Uh..." answered Sam. He didn't know what he should tell Dean. He knew that they had to explore the house, but there was no way that his older brother would ever let him step foot in that mansion if he knew that Sam had seen his own death. He wasn't really scared of what he had experienced, but confused. Why had he and Dean been preyed on in his vision? Dean hadn't had time to tell Sam all that he had found on the internet last night, but Sam was sure that he had at least heard Dean tell him that Sarah Winchester was responsible for Tommy's death. He remembered that he had, in his nightmare, told Dean that they weren't construction workers, so they would have to work harder to find the woman's ghost. He wondered vaguely what being a construction worker had to do with anything, and then remembered that Tommy had been doing construction details when he had died. In that instant, he realized what Dean had inferred about Sarah's intentions last night: she had some sort of grudge against the builders of the house for not doing something satisfactorily in the construction. He didn't know about the earthquake, or anything else strange that Dean had discovered about the house, but the story was at least beginning to make sense.

"Earth to Sam," said Dean, waving his hand in front of his younger brother's eyes. "You're spacing out, dude."

"Oh..." answered Sam. "Sorry."

"You didn't answer my question, Sammy. Did Sarah kill someone else in your vision?"

"Uh, yeah." said Sam simply. Maybe he could still tell Dean his nightmare, at least some of the details, without giving away that he had been the victim. After all, it had been nighttime in his dream, when he had...died. He figured that he would be safe during the day.

"She did? Really, who was it? We need to go now, we need to stop it!"

"Slow down, Dean!" said Sam. I'm pretty sure it was nighttime. We have time to figure this out."

"Well, who was it, then? Another construction worker? I didn't think they worked at night, but..."

"No," said Sam. "It wasn't a construction worker. It was just some guy, exploring the mansion. That's what's confusing me. You said it was Sarah, right, who killed Tommy? And I'm guessing that you found out that she holds some grudge towards the people who worked on building the house, so why would this guy be a target?"

Dean looked at Sam in disbelief. "You figured out that construction worker thing already?"

"Well, yeah Dean. Why? Embarrassed that it took you all night to reach that conclusion?"

"No," said Dean quickly, turning his head away. "It's just that you didn't even know all of the facts. I found out that there was an earthquake in 1906 that took three stories off of the house. There are four now, and there were originally seven. She was obsessed with the number seven, dude, and thirteen, and...eleven, I think. She thought that she was building the house under the direction of spirits, and I'm guessing she wasn't too happy when her workers failed to rebuild the house to her specifications. I'm pretty sure that she thinks she died because the spirits were unhappy with her for what happened to the house. The medium thingy she went to told her that if she kept building the house she lived, and that if she stopped she would die. It was supposed to be, like, perfect for all of the ghosties who died because of the Winchester Rifle that her husband patented to live in."

"The Winchester Rifle?" questioned Sam. He wondered if that could be the reason why Dean's pistol was knocked from his hand when he was holding it out. "Dean, maybe Sarah isn't the only spirit in the house that holds a grudge."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that in my vision, the guy had a gun and it was knocked from his hands when he was trying to aim it. The house is supposed to be haunted by the ghosts of the people who died from the rifle, right? I mean, that's who Sarah built the house for in the first place, according to what you're telling me."

"Yeah...so you think that they have something against anyone who tries to bring another gun into their house?"

"Right."

"But wait..." said Dean. "Why would some random guy bring a gun into the mansion? I don't think most teenaged thrill-seekers bring pistols with them into a haunted house."

"Oh, uhh..." fumbled Sam, realizing that telling Dean about the gun probably wasn't that wise. "Well, he's from California. Everyone has a gun."

Dean laughed. "No, I think that's Texas, dude."

"Whatever," said Sam. "It doesn't matter. He had one, and that's what's important."

"What did this guy look like?"

Sam smiled. "Well, he was kinda short. He was wearing like two jackets in an ugly, olive green color, and big heavy boots."

"Sounds like a smut," said Dean. Sam grinned inwardly – he couldn't make evident to his brother his amusement at coming up with that description.

"Oh, yeah," he added. "I think he was some college student, because he seemed overly cocky."

"Know the type," answered Dean. Sam laughed, unable now to hide his emotion.

"What's so funny, dude? It's weird to laugh randomly like that."

"Ah, nothing," replied Sam. "Look, if we're going to go to this mansion, we have to make a plan."

"I'm on it," said Dean, opening up the laptop. "Okay...oh, man, dude!"

"What?"

"Tours are over an hour, and $45 dollars a person!"

"That sucks! I only have like ten bucks," said Sam.

"Well, I don't have enough either, so we're gonna need another plan."

"FBI?" suggested Sam

"Nah, that's too heavy duty. This case was already ruled as a suicide – don't you think it would seem weird to have the FBI just come all the sudden? Definitely not a case for them."

"What, then? We usually go to the morgue to ID the body, guess how they died, and go from there. This guy fell out of a window, though...the body would be pretty unimpressive. Nobody is even interested in this case anymore, so no disguise is going to work. The story won't check."

"I guess we're gonna have to go by our old standby, then."

"What?" said Sam, although he already knew the answer.

"We'll go at night."

TBC

Ahhh...the mystery deepens! Please R&R!