Where the Soul Resides
Black-Angel-001: wasn't sure this was too interesting to too many people but after seeing all the alerts...you like it, you really like it! well, maybe not that, but you are interested. so here we go in continuation
Where the Soul Resides
The library was somewhere in the middle of town, on it's own street corner, and surrounded by little resturants, a coffee shop, a farmer's market, and a fish market. It was a small building, not more than two stories but Sam loved it. Because the town was small and nearly everyone local was descendant from someone who was there after the town was first built, they were very good at storing local history. It didn't take Sam long to find family histories, records about births, deaths, sales, and the like, and newspaper articles. While gathering all the information he could take to his table, Sam wished that all libraries were like this.
Dean's luck wasn't so grand. He'd called the families of the victim's first from their room, and got nowhere. Ever answer was, "I can't believe it was a heartattack, he was so healthy!" or some variation of that. The only response different from that was a widow of the sixth victim, who said rather angrily, "I told the stupid bastard what would happen but no he just kept right on stuffing his stupid face with that disgusting food! If he'd have listened to me, he wouldn't have ended up dead, stupid bastard that he is, but of course he acted like I had no idea what I'm talking about! Well I'll tell you, my uncle is a doctor, well a shrink, actually, but he's been to medical school! He knows!" Dean was finally able to cut her off, thank her for her time, and hung up with a shake of the head and a muttered, "God, women!" before crossing her off the list and moving on to the next one.
Finally, all the families had been called and questioned but hadn't found anything useful. Glancing at his watch, he decided that he had at least an hour and a half before he had to meet Sam for lunch. Grabbing his jacket, Dean went to walk around the town and ask some questions.
Dean could admit that Sam was much better at talking to people, could get whatever he wanted out of them with just a look, but Dean knew how to get what he wanted too. He went to resturants with tables outside, asking older people who might have more history about the house. He went to the park, the pier and a few shops. He got more from these encounters, although it was basically the same information.
At one, Dean went back to the bed and breakfast and his and Sam's room. Sam was there already and scribbling in his notebook, glancing and going through printouts occassionally. He looked up when Dean came in.
"Hey," he said.
"What'd you find?"
Sam leaned back and stretched his arms over his head before linking his fingers together behind his head. "This place has been through a long set of owners, man."
"What do you mean?"
Sam sat forward again, tapping on his notebook. Dean sat at the table across from him and leaned over to look.
"I mean, this place was built in like, 1888, finished in 1889 and has been through about eight or ten owners since then. The Stratfords have owned it the longest but everyone else only stayed no more than four years."
"Why? What made them leave?"
Sam shrugged. "Far as I can tell, bad luck."
Dean frowned and thought back to what he'd learned. "Huh."
"What?"
"I talked to some locals today. They said the house is unlucky."
Sam's eyebrows lowered and drew together. "Why would they say that?"
"Oh, unexplainable accidents, people getting hurt, money problems, that sort of thing. And it's the thirteenth house on the block with exactly thirteen windows." Dean had confirmed that, he'd counted. "There's also thirteen steps on the staircase," he added with a jerk of a thumb to the door, indicating the stairs.
This time it was Sam's turn to go, "Huh."
"Okay, what's that mean?"
"Well, I didn't think anything of it at the time, but now that you've said that...the house number. It's 616."
"And," Dean drawled out.
"It the number of the beast," Sam said with a huff.
This time Dean frowned. "I thought the number of the beast was 666?"
"It was thought to be. But recently they did a new translation the earliest copy of the Book of Revelations, where it says the number of the Anti-Christ, and it was shown to be 616, not 666.*"
"What's this mean for us?"
"Well I didn't think it meant anything, but the number of the beast is supposedly just as unlucky as thirteen; both of them have been associated with the devil."
"So you're thinking some kind of devil worship? So, demons?"
"There's no sign of demon activity. No sulfur, no one suddenly acting out of character. I mean, with demons deaths are usually alot more violent and don't always stay in one location."
"Okay." Dean thought for a second. "Okay. So, maybe it's the numbers?"
Sam didn't look convinced. "But that would affect the owners more than guests, right? Sure, guests might get hurt occassionally, but dead like this? It doesn't make sense."
"Show me something that does," Dean muttered. Louder, he asked, "What else did you find?"
"Besides the run of bad luck every owner of this place seemed to have, there were plenty of unexplainable deaths. Pretty much any woman who came into ownership with her husband left a widow. In fact, every death has been of a male, 20's to 40's, all explained as a heart attack or something like that."
"Hm. Anything to tie anyone together?"
"If there is, I haven't found it yet. I've still got some research to go through and put together, and I'll need to go back to the library tomorrow."
Dean sighed. He really hoped they figured this out soon, the house was beginning to freak him out. Come on, seriously, a house built with bad luck numbers all through it plus a supernatural baddie they had no clue about? It made him edgy and that spot between his shoulders itch. Looking at Sam, he stood.
"C'mon, let's get something to eat. I'm starving."
Sam rolled his eyes as he stood. "When aren't you? How'd the phone calls go?"
"Man, don't ask," Dean replied as they were walking out.
Once again, Sam paused and glanced at the mirror hanging in the hall but Dean still didn't see anything special about it. Okay, sure it was probably old, cost alot, and was worth alot, but other than that what was the big deal? However, he didn't question his brother about it, instead started a debate about where to eat. The bed and breakfast provided breakfast and dinner to all guests, and opened the kitchen to them at all times except when those meals were being prepared. Since it wouldn't cost them anything at all to make themselves something, the brothers settled on that. With a plate full of at least two ham sandwhiches with the works, a glass of tea, and plenty of room at the table to themselves, they sat and enjoyed, talking quietly about the case.
* May 2005: reportedly, scholars at Oxford University were able to read previously illegible portions of Revelation and determined that the actuall translation was 616, not 666, although other sources had previously determined that.
Also, while 13 is widely considered unlucky by many people, it's also considered to be lucky in many countries and cultures.