**So SO sorry it took so long to get this chapter out and I'll apologize in advance because I'm probably going to update really slow for the next month (if I can even update at all). I'm traveling and really busy and stuff. So SO SO sorry, but I'll try my best to update. Promise. Anyway, I really REALLY need reviews on this one because I have an idea where this story is headed, but I need your input. I'm not going to give anything away but after you read it you'll know what I mean. There's kind of big news (well, two) in this chapter and I really need to know if you guys think it's a good idea and all! Thank you to everyone who reads this! I love you all! By for now! Hope I can update soon! ~Kitty**
Asylum
"No, Dad was in California last we heard from him," Sam spoke into the phone from where he was sitting on the bed opposite Dean and I. "We just thought if he comes to you for munitions, maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. Just call us if you hear anything. Thanks," Sam snapped the phone shut.
"Caleb hasn't heard from him?" Dean questioned even though we already knew the answer.
"Nope," Sam replied, looking dejected. "Neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim,"
"Or Bobby or Maxwell," I added, noticing Dean tense at my ex-boyfriend's name.
"What about the journal? Any leads in there?" Sam rushed the question as Dean opened his mouth to say something.
"No," Dean answered after glancing at me with a pause. "Same last time we looked," He replied, lowering his eyes to the journal.
"We can't make anything out," I informed Sam, frowning at the scrawl that covered the pages.
"I love the guy," Dean chuckled, flipping the page. "But I swear he writes like freaking Yoda,"
"You know, maybe we should call the Feds, file a missing person's," Sam suggested, and both Dean and my eyes snapped to him.
"No, John would just get angry if we set the Feds after him," I shot down Sam's terrible idea hurriedly.
"I don't care anymore," Sam protested, "After all that happened back in Kansas - I mean, he should have been there. Dean, you said so yourself. You tried to call him and nothing,"
"I know," Dean half agreed as his phone started ringing. He rose from beside me and began rummaging through his duffel trying to find it.
"You know, he could be dead for all we know," Sam reminded us unnecessarily, and Dean's head snapped around to look at Sam angrily.
"Don't say that," Dean was scared, and when he got scared, he got defensive.
"He's not dead," I tried my best to speak the words with conviction as I glanced at Sam and Dean. "He's just…" I trailed off, not knowing how to finish that sentence.
"He's what?" Sam asked. "He's hiding? He's busy?" Dean found the phone and flipped it up, and I came to stand next to him to see the text.
"I don't believe it," Dean chuckled with relief as I smiled a bit at the numbers.
"What?" Sam questioned, growing curious.
"He sent a text message," I responded, my smile widening. If he could send the text then it proved he was okay, "It's coordinates, Sam," I crossed the room quickly and opened the computer. Dean stood beside me, showing me the coordinates as I plugged them in to the virtual map.
"You think Dad was texting us?" Sam asked, not quite believing it.
"He's given us coordinates before," Dean pointed out, still staring intently at the computer while I worked to locate where exactly we were going.
"The man can barely work a toaster, guys," Sam was so pessimistic.
"Sam, stop being so dark," I admonished him. "This is good. If it is him, then this proves he's alright,"
"Well, was there a number on the caller I.D.?" Sam checked, and I shook my head.
"It said 'unknown'," Dean replied as the search went through and Rockford, Illinois popped up on the screen. I did a separate search for deaths in Rockford, Illinois.
"Okay, well, where do the coordinates point?" Sam continued.
"That's the interesting part. Rockford, Illinois," Dean answered him, leaning over me to click on one of the links, and the paper came up.
"Okay, that's interesting how?" Sam watched us work while standing a few feet away from the laptop.
"We're looking at the local paper," I explained, beckoning him over while I turned the laptop slightly so he could see. "You need to see this," I clicked on the picture of the officer. "So, this cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from work and shoots his wife, and then shoots himself. Now, earlier that same night, him and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum,"
"Okay, but I'm not following. What does this have to do with us?" Sam asked as Dean flipped through the pages of John's journal to show us.
"Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal," He showed Sam the old, yellowed article that had been cut from a newspaper. "Here, seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths - till last week, at least. I think this is where he wants us to go," Sam scoffed, standing and rubbing the back of his head with his two hands.
"This is a job," It wasn't a question, and Sam turned to face us again, clearly displaying the annoyance on his face. "Dad wants us to work a job,"'
"Yeah, well, maybe we'll meet up with him. Maybe he's there," Dean's words didn't sound right.
"Maybe he's not," Sam countered. "He could be sending us there by ourselves to hunt this thing,"
"Who cares?" Dean asked, shutting the journal and the laptop. "If he wants us there it's good enough for me," Dean went over to his duffel bag, and started zipping it up.
"This doesn't strike either of you as weird - the texting, the coordinates?" Sam questioned dubiously, glancing back and forth between Dean and I. I rose to go over to Dean and start packing my bag.
"Sam. Dad's telling us to go somewhere. We're going," Dean spoke as if it was the end of story. He took his duffel, and I zipped mine before he took mine as well and headed out to the car.
"Sam," I began reasonably, taking in Sam's still unhappy face. "Even if he's not there, it's still a job. We're still saving lives, right?"
"I guess," He relented bitterly. "I just don't understand how he has such faith in him,"
"It's called trust, Sammy. You should try it sometime," I earned a small smile from Sam as he tried to look annoyed at my joke. We walked to the car, and I slid into the front seat with Dean while Sam sat in the back.
A slightly tense car ride later, I was sitting at a table a few feet away from the 'target' and watching the plan that I had masterminded get executed. Dean was up first. He would try to bully the policeman a little, and then Sam would shove him and tell him to get lost. Classic good cop bad cop. I kept my eyes fixed mindlessly on the beer in my hands as my hearing drifted towards the scene.
"You're Daniel Gunderson, right - the cop?" Dean asked to the man who was sitting at the table. Truthfully, I felt bad for him, not to mention full of regret about what Dean was about to do next.
"Yeah," The haunted cop replied, and Dean let out a chuckle, sitting down uninvited across from Gunderson.
"I'm Nigel Tufnel, with the Chicago Tribune. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about your partner?" Dean was purposefully acting obnoxiously towards the guy.
"Yeah, I do. I'm just trying to have a beer here," Gunderson replied.
"It won't take that long. I just want to hear the story in your words," Dean pressed.
"A week ago my partner was sitting in that chair, and now he's dead. Are you gonna ambush me here?" Dean's smile faltered, and his eyes flicked to mine for a split second. I quickly looked down to study my beer in case Gunderson caught the exchange.
"Sorry, but I need to know what happened," Dean insisted, and I nodded to Sammy, who was leaning against the bar. He stalked up to Dean and yanked him away from the table with aggression that surprised even me.
"Hey, buddy, how about leaving the poor guy alone?" Sam glared harshly at Dean as Dean's jaw tightened like he was preparing for a fight. I half stood, in case something went wrong. I'd orchestrated this whole thing, but I hadn't planned for the fire in Sam's eyes or the shove. "The man's an officer!Why don't you show a little respect?" Dean's eyes flicked to mine again before fixing on Sam, and then he walked out the door. I hesitated for a moment before grabbing my beer and walking out the door after him to the car.
"He shoved me a bit hard in there," Dean spoke as I leaned against the car next to him, offering him my beer, which he accepted.
"He was just making it believable," Truth be told I was uncertain too. He hadn't needed to shove Dean that hard.
"Yeah, well, he could've fooled even me," Dean grumbled, and I studied his face for a moment before smiling softly and looking away.
"We're going to find him, Dean," I promised him, and Dean glanced at me in surprise.
"Yeah, I know we will," He agreed a bit uncertainly. "It's just… why isn't he here? Why send us the coordinates if he wasn't going to show up? He should've been in Lawrence. He should've came,"
"Maybe he had his reasons," I suggested, knowing it sounded weak but not knowing what else to say.
"Yeah, like what?" Dean's eyes bore into mine as he waited for my answer.
"Maybe he's onto something. Something big," Dean scoffed, shaking his head and looking away. "Dean, we'll find him, or he'll find us," Dean glanced back at me, meeting my eyes before finally nodding and sighing.
"How did I get so lucky?" He wondered aloud, making me smile a bit as he braced himself against the Impala with a hand on either side of my waist.
"You had a headstart," That caused us both to smile as he pressed his lips to mine. Just as Dean's arms were moving to encircle my waist, the bar door banged open.
"Guys," Sam sounded a bit disgusted as he waved his hand at us to get our attention. Dean muttered a few swear words under his breath and kept his arms wrapped around my waist as we faced Sam.
"Well, what'd you find?" I prompted after the silence had stretched on longer than normal.
"So, Walter Kelly was a good cop," Sam began quickly, "Head of his class, even-keeled. He had a bright future ahead of him,"
"What about at home?" Dean asked.
"He and his wife had a few fights like everybody, but it was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids," Sam informed us, and I bit my lip in thought.
"All right, so, either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him," Sam nodded in agreement to Dean's assessment.
"What did he say about the asylum?" I questioned.
"A lot," Sam smirked, getting into the car without bothering to tell us what that meant. Reluctantly, I got into the back and Dean slid into the driver's seat.
I jumped at the fence, and my fingers wrapped tightly around the metal links. Getting over the fence took me a bit longer than the boys but just barely. Dean landed beside me after having flipped down the side, and he sent me one of his signature - really sexy - smirks. Sam led us up the stairs and opened the door to the Roosevelt Asylum.
"So, apparently the cops chased the kids here… into the south wing," Sam explained as I took a good look at the depressing room.
"South wing?" I echoed as the name tugged at a memory in my brain. I turned to Dean thoughtfully. "South wing? Wasn't that…"
"Yeah," Dean agreed without me finishing. He pulled out John's journal and began leafing through the pages. "1972 - three kids broke into the south wing only one survived,"
"He says that one of his friends went crazy and started setting fire to everything," I skimmed the article, standing beside Dean. "So, whatever is happening, the south wing seems to be the problem," I summed up, glancing at the engraved wood at the top of the door.
"Yeah, but if kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?" Dean questioned, flipping through the pages as Sam went towards the door.
"It looks like the doors are usually chained," He pointed to the chains that hung from the handles. "They could have been chained up for years.
"Yeah, to keep people out, or to keep something in," Dean added as I reached out tentatively and pushed the door open. We walked down the hallway in silence until about halfway. "Let me know if you see any dead people, Hailey Joel," Dean glanced at his E.M.F., chuckling.
"Dude, enough," I let the boys bicker as I kept my eyes on the E.M.F.
"I'm serious. You've got to be careful, alright? Ghosts are attracted to that whole E.S.P. thing you got going on," I rolled my eyes and gave him a look. He'd gotten used to my abilities years ago, and this was just his way of coming to terms with Sam's.
"I told you, it's not E.S.P," Sam snapped, sounding ticked off. "I just have strange vibes sometimes, weird dreams," Sam explained again.
"Yeah, whatever, don't ask, don't tell," Dean muttered, turning away from Sam.
"Are you picking up anything?" I changed the subject before the fight could get any further.
"Nope," Dean replied, sounding apprehensive. "Of course it doesn't mean nobody's home,"
"Spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day," Sam reminded us.
"The freaks come out at night," Dean agreed, grinning slightly before glancing at Sammy. "Hey, Sam, who do you think is a hotter psychic - Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?" I elbowed Dean in the ribs and gave him a withering look that cut his laugh short. We entered a room that was furnished with creepy broken torture mechanisms. Wonderful. The second we entered the room, my head began to pound, and my hand automatically grabbed Dean's sleeve tightly as my other hand pressed against my temples. I let out a hiss of pain and stumbled backwards, my hand slipping from Dean's sleeve and joining my other hand in covering my ears. "What's wrong? Hey, Mel," Dean's voice changed drastically from the joking tone he'd used with Sam seconds ago.
"My head," I tried to blink the pain away, but it only worsened as I started to hear distant screams. Suddenly, the screams died down, and my head cleared. I looked up to see Dean had pulled me out of the room and into the hall. "Sorry," This wasn't the first time I was annoyed with my abilities, nor was it the first time that they hindered me.
"Don't," Dean stopped my apology before he turned to Sam, who was standing behind him and gazing at me with concern. I managed a brave smile for him, which must have looked as weak as it felt for he frowned at me. "You check it out. We'll wait here," Sam glanced at Dean before looking back at me.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam asked me uncertainly. I smiled more convincingly and nodded. He ducked back into the room, and Dean cradled my head between his hands while I met his green eyes determinedly.
"What happened?" He demanded, looking angry and protective, searching my face for any signs of pain.
"My head started to hurt, and I could hear… screaming. Dean, I think people were tortured in there," Dean glanced at the door before looking back at me.
"Is it gone now? Do you still feel the pain?" I raised my hands to my cheeks to cover his hands with my smaller ones.
"I'm okay. It stopped as soon as I left the room," I told him, and his hard gaze finally softened.
"We haven't eaten all day, and you're probably hungry. After Sam's done we'll stop by a diner; I saw one on the way over," A small smile touched my lips, and I nodded in agreement. "Okay," Dean kissed my forehead lightly.
"Have you talked to him yet?" I questioned after a moment, glancing at the door and remembering Sam was on the other side.
"No," Dean admitted after a hesitant moment. I sighed, resting my forehead on his chest for a moment before raising me eyes to meet his.
"You have to talk to him at some point," I told him, and he shook his head.
"You know Sam as well as I do. He'll want to go after Dad, and we have to finish the job. Dad gave us an order," Dean protested.
"You're right," I agreed, and Dean glanced at me in surprise. "But you still have to talk to him about it," I added, smiling slightly as he sighed in defeat. For a few moments we just stood there in a comfortable silence. I studied Dean's face as he studied mine. "What're you thinking about?" Usually, I could read Dean fairly well, but there were times, like now, where his brow furrowed and his face was a mask of worry, that I couldn't tell what he was thinking.
"What changed your mind?" He questioned, his thumb tracing my jawline. A slight smile graced his lips as he took in my confusion. "About us," And suddenly his question was painfully clear. I glanced away from him for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "It's been eight years, Mel. Why now?"
"The Aswang hunt in Los Angeles?" I finally started before hesitating again.
"I saved your life," Dean prompted, but I shook my head.
"No," Dean frowned, and I hurried on before he could interrupt. "You didn't just save my life. You sacrificed yourself for me," I suppressed a shiver, remembering that hunt.
"You dumped me because I would die for you?" A note of anger crept into Dean's voice as he asked the question.
"I broke up with you because I couldn't watch you do it!" I snapped at him, a sudden anger rose in me. "I can't watch you die, Dean," I just shook my head, tears burning behind my eyes as that painful memory resurfaced. "I thought that if I broke up with you - if you didn't love me anymore - I couldn't get you killed," I gazed at his chest, not being able to look him in the eyes, too afraid of what he would think. My eyes snapped up as I heard a small chuckle. "Well, I'm glad you think-" I was cut off by Dean's lips pressed against mine. He pulled away, smiling still.
"What changed your mind?" He asked again, and I smiled slightly.
"The Siren in New Mexico," Dean frowned, remembering the hunt a year ago that landed me in the hospital and almost did the same to him. "I realized that you were always going to be dumb enough to almost get yourself killed saving me," I lightened my tone to tease him with the last part. He laughed slightly, leaning down to press his lips against mine for a sweet moment before pulling away and looking into my eyes.
"I'm always going be there to protect you," He promised me, and I was completely enthralled by his eyes. His hot breath brushed against my cheek, and his smoldering eyes desperately searched mine for belief.
"I know," I whispered, our faces centimeters apart. "And I'll always be there to cover you when you do," We both smiled slightly as I closed the gap between our lips. If I had never become a hunter - if I had never known Dean, I would've never believed I could love anyone as much as I loved him.
"I know where we have to go next-" Sam's excited voice burst through the door and cut off quickly as he saw us. I broke away from Dean quickly, guilty at rubbing our relationship in his face. "Um, I'll just… I'll wait by the car," He moved around us and hurried down the hallway while I frowned after him. Sam had never been one to be awkward and stuttering… well, not since he was in high school anyway.
"That was weird," Dean muttered distractedly, also staring after Sam.
"We should see what he found," I told him, shrugging and pecking him on the lips before I took his hand and led him down the hall.
We'd been riding for twenty minutes in complete silence and had only stopped briefly to check a yellow pages from one of the pay phones. Apparently, there was a psychologist named James Ellicott, who was related to a doctor that worked in the south wing of the asylum.
"It's just kissing, Sam. We didn't commit treason," Dean decided to use that very awkward icebreaker. Sam glanced at us from where he had just finished making his 'appointment' with the psychologist and was snapping the phone shut.
"I know," He sounded defensive, glancing at the rearview while I avoided his gaze.
"Okay," Another very awkward silence ensued until Dean pulled into a diner where we ate before continuing on to Dr. Ellicott's office.
"You two can just wait out here," Sam told us, already opening the door. "I'll only be a couple minutes,"
"Yeah," Dean agreed, flashing a thumbs up as Sam disappeared inside. What had that been about?
-3rd Person-
"Sam Winchester?" Sam looked up as an older man dressed in a blue button down shirt and green jacket called his name from the doorway.
"That's me," He confirmed, glancing up from the Men's Health magazine he'd been blankly flipping through.
"Come on in," Dr. Ellicott gestured for him to follow as he disappeared inside the door. Sam glanced at the magazine once more before tossing it aside and standing.
"Thanks again for seeing me last minute," Sam had thanked him on the phone, but he figured being polite was a good way to start the session. Especially if he wanted to get answers out of him. The doctor shut the doors behind them as Sam took a seat on the couch. Instinctively, Sam scanned the room, his eyes catching the picture of Dr. Ellicott and a girl, who was most likely his daughter, laughing in the woods before they moved on to read the award plaque that was mounted on the wall.
"Dr. Ellicott?" Sam began conning. "Ellicott - that name. Wasn't there a Dr. Sanford Ellicott? Yeah," Sam went on as if it was all coming back to him now. "He was a chief psychiatrist somewhere," Dr. James Ellicott nodded proudly, crossing his legs and pulling out a yellow notepad.
"My father was chief of staff at the old Roosevelt Asylum. How did you know?" Sam raised his eyebrows, pretending to be impressed as his mind scrambled for an answer to the psychologist's question. He found his mind skipping back to Mel and the excuse she always used.
"Well, I'm sort of a local-history buff. Hey, wasn't there an incident or something in the hospital, I guess - in the south wing, right?" This better be right. Sam briefly reflected on how crazy he'd sound if it wasn't.
"We're on your dollar, Sam," Well, actually Dean's dollar, Sam thought, suppressing a smirk. "We're here to talk about you," This may be harder than he originally thought.
"Oh, okay, yeah, yeah, sure," Sam agreed, remembering Mel's lesson on improvisation and conning. Always agree with the person your trying to get information from. "So," He prompted the doctor, hoping to get the shrink stuff out of the way fast.
"So, how's things?" Dr. Ellicott asked, and Sam glanced away, trying to come up with a viable response.
"Uh, things are good, Doctor," He nodded, with what he hoped was a convincing smile.
"Good," The doctor smiled back briefly, clearly not buying it. "What have you been doing?" Sam glanced away again, wracking his brain for an answer.
"Uh…Same old," He shook his head, shrugging as if it didn't matter. "I've just been on a road trip with my brother and his girlfriend,"
"Was that fun?" The doctor was looking at him understandingly, and Sam nodded uncomfortably.
"Loads," He responded, briefly wondering if Mel was listening from outside but he dismissed the thought. She wouldn't pry. "Um… you know… we… met a lot of… interesting people. Did a lot of, uh, a lot of interesting things," Sam tried his best not to lie to the man. "Uh… you know, what was it exactly that happened in the south wing? I forget-"
"Look, if you're a local history buff, then you know all about the Roosevelt riot," The doctor cocked his head as he spoke, studying Sam's reaction.
"The riot?" Sam echoed in a momentary surprise before gathering himself. "Well, no, I know, I'm just curious-"
"Sam. Let's cut the bull, shall we?" The doctor cut him off firmly, placing the notepad back on the desk. "You're avoiding the subject,"
"What subject?" Sam questioned uneasily.
"You," The doctor answered, and Sam tensed slightly. "Now, I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you all about the Roosevelt riot if you tell me something honest about yourself. Like, uh, this brother you're road tripping with, and his girlfriend… how do you feel about them?" Sam hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the window behind him. "It's alright. They can't hear you," Sam almost laughed at the doctor's reassurance.
"Dean, he's, uh, he's stubborn," Sam finally landed but winced at how it sounded. "He means well, but… I'm not a little kid anymore, you know?" Sam had no idea why he was saying all of this, but it felt good to open up to someone. "We - our dad, he's, well, uh…"
"Overbearing?" Dr. Ellicott suggested, and Sam's eyebrows rose.
"That's an understatement. Anyway, Dean, he just follows. Whatever Dad says, even if he's not here," The words were pouring out of Sam now. "I've always looked up to him, you know? Dad trusted him, he was always confident, he got the girl-" Sam stopped abruptly. He hadn't meant for those words to escape his lips.
"His girlfriend?" The doctor prompted, his eyes a bit wider.
"Mel's not just his girlfriend," Sam confessed, "Our dad took her in when we were little. She's my best friend - she has been all my life,"
"Sam, sometimes knowing someone for a long time blinds you to what you are feeling," Sam frowned at him in confusion. He couldn't be saying… no. No, that was impossible. "You never saw her as maybe more than a friend?" Sam hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the window again.
"When we were younger - high school - for a short time. Well, I was in high school, she's four years older than me," Sam shrugged quickly, shifting uncomfortably.
"What happened?" The doctor asked him.
"During my senior year, I was thinking about going to college, but I was nervous," Sam remembered fondly with a small smile, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. "She encouraged me to do it. I got in," Sam swallowed and shook his head lightly. "But when she asked me, I lied and said I didn't,"
"Why?" Sam shrugged in answer to the doctor's question.
"I was going to stay with her and Dean, and I didn't want her to feel guilty. Anyway, she found out and convinced me to go," Sam finished his story, blinking back into the present and realizing he'd just told the doctor something he'd never told anyone before.
"How long ago was that?" The doctor questioned, not at all fazed by his confession.
"Four years," Sam answered.
"And do you think that now that because you're spending all this time with her, old feelings might be resurfacing?" Sam immediately shook his head.
"No, no… no," He gave his head another hard shake. "Look, I appreciate you trying to help, Dr. Ellicott, but I think it's time for you to hold up your part of the deal. Tell me about the Roosevelt Asylum,"
-1st Person-
"I'm not spying on Sam's appointment with the shrink," Dean sighed in defeat at my firm statement. Sam had been in there for a long time now, and every so often I would stretch my hearing just enough to hear his voice before snapping it back to me. Just to make sure he was alright and not in trouble. "He's coming out," I realized suddenly, pushing off the glass window and straightening just as Sam walked out the door.
"Dud, you were in there forever," Dean told him, following Sam, who barely glanced at us. "What the hell were you talking about?"
"Just the hospital, you know," Sam's heartbeat faltered, but I let the lie go.
"And? Did you ask about the hospital?" I questioned, interested in what was going on.
"And the south wing, it's where they housed the real hard cases - the psychotics, the criminally insane," Sam listed, emphasizing by giving each a finger.
"Sounds cozy," Dean quipped sarcastically.
"Yeah, and one night in '64, they rioted - attacked the staff, attacked each other," Sam continued.
"So the patients overran the facility," I summed up. "Deaths?"
"Some patients, some staff," Sam answered, not looking at me but instead focusing on the car. I frowned, something was definitely off. "I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our chief of staff, Ellicott,"
"What do you mean never recovered?" Dean questioned.
"Cops scoured every inch of the place, but I guess the patients must have… stuffed the bodies somewhere hidden," "Lovely," I made a face, and Sam's eyes didn't even flick to me, just stayed focused on Dean.
"So they transferred all the surviving patients and shut down the hospital for good," Sam finished.
"All right to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies," Dean summarized Sam's information.
"Which means a bunch of vengeful spirits," I added.
"Yeah, good times. Let's check out the hospital tonight," Dean's eyebrows quirked, and I grinned as I walked to the passenger's seat and slid in.
-SPN-
I pushed the door open for the second time today, and it swung open with a loud, protesting creak. Dean readied the E.M.F. while Sam and I turned on our flashlights, running them over the dark hallway. Sam raised the video camera, turning on the night vision, and pointed it in front of us as we walked.
"Getting anything?" I questioned, as I shivered slightly. I was getting a really bad feeling from this place.
"Yeah, big time," Dean answered, and I could hear the E.M.F. spiking.
"This place is orbing like crazy," Sam added, and Dean and I stopped to study the video camera that showed flecks of silver light everywhere.
"There's definitely multiple spirits," I pointed out, scanning the room.
"And if these unrecovered bodies are causing the haunting?" Sam started.
"We got to find them and burn them," Dean finished, glancing around the hallway. "Just be careful though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit is a pissed off spirit of a psycho killer," We had barely started walking again when I heard an ominous whoosh from behind us. I whipped around just in time to see the vague outline of a man before he vanished completely. "What is it?" I shook my head at Dean's question.
"I thought I saw something," We turned back and began walking down the hallway again. Sam took one room, and Dean and I scanned the other. I let my hearing drift, trying to pick up something important but frowned when I heard breathing. It wasn't coming from Dean, Sam, or me. Maybe a spirit? Did spirits breathe though? "De-" I began before I was cut off by Sam's yell from the other room.
"Mel! Shotgun!" I sprinted into the other room and raised the gun, cocking it.
"Get down," I ordered before firing it at the ghost of an old woman. The woman disappeared. I handed Dean the shotgun before offering Sam a hand that he accepted. "You okay?"
"Yeah," He confirmed to my relief. "That was weird,"
"Yeah, you're telling me," Dean muttered, handing me back the shotgun before heading back towards the other room with the duffel slung over his shoulder. I followed.
"No, guys, I mean, it was weird that she didn't attack me," Sam elaborated, catching up with us.
"It looked pretty Aggro from where I was standing," Dean replied.
"Maybe Sam has a point. She could've hurt him; she had plenty of time," I pointed out, backing Sam.
"Exactly, so if she didn't want to hurt me, then what did she want?" Sam asked the million dollar question.
"Guys," I stopped short in front of a seemingly deserted room. "We aren't alone,"
"More spirits?" Dean questioned, unslinging the duffel from his shoulder, but I shook my head.
"No…" I frowned as my ears caught the heartbeat. "Dean, I think there's people in here," I handed Dean the shotgun and stepped into the room cautiously. I didn't have to turn to know Dean had cocked the shotgun and was following me. Sam reached forward and pulled the bed away. A girl was sitting there, pressing herself against the wall and hyperventilating.
"Hey, hey, relax," I ordered her, holding my hands up in surrender. "We won't hurt you. It's okay," I held out my hand, and she took it gratefully, getting to her feet. "What's you're name?"
"Katherine," She responded softly. "Kat," She corrected with more conviction.
"Okay, I'm Mel. This is Dean and Sam," I pointed to each brother without breaking eye contact with Kat.
"What're you doing here?" Sam questioned incredulously.
"Um… my boyfriend, Gavin-" Despite everything, I smiled slightly. I knew how this story went.
"Is he here?" Dean asked her.
"Somewhere," The girl answered. "He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts," Dean and I exchanged annoyed glances. "I thought it was all just…you know…pretend," She pulled her jacket tighter around herself. "I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream, and-"
"All right, Kat, come on. Sam's gonna get you out of here. Then we're gonna find your boyfriend," Sam and I both glanced at Dean in surprise as he took Kat by the wrist and started leading her towards the door.
"No, no," She protested, taking her wrist back. "I'm not gonna leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you,"
"It's no joke around here, okay? It's dangerous," Dean tried to talk her out of it.
"That's why I've got to find him," Dean glanced at me, and I gave him a small nod and a shrug.
"All right, I guess we're gonna split up, then," Dean told us. There was a moment of silence as each of us internally debated how we would split up.
"I'll take Kat," I finally volunteered, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean stiffen. "We'll take the right hallway. You two can take the middle," I added, and Dean hesitated.
"Be careful," I smiled at his concern as he handed me the shotgun and took the second one out of his duffel.
"You too," I returned before leading Kat out the door and into the hallway.
"Gavin!" She called out, and I winced slightly as her call was magnified tenfold to my ears.
"You see a lot of horror movies, yeah?" I decided to give her a little piece of advice.
"I guess so," I turned to face her as we stopped.
"Next time you see on, try paying attention," I told her. "When someone says a place is haunted, and people have died there, don't go in," I turned and started walking again, hearing Kat follow after a moment. My flashlight started to flicker, and I shook it but it died all the same. "Crap. Just my luck," I muttered. "Okay, stay behind me," I winced as her grip tightened on my arm. "Kat, I know you're scared, but can you loosen your grip. I need my arm to shoot,"
"What are you talking about? I'm not touching you," I froze, slowly turning to look at her terrified face before lowering my gaze to the dirty, boney hand that clutched my arm. I let out a short yelp of surprise as I was yanked and the world blurred past me. The first thing I realized after I was released was that the heavy metal door had slammed behind me. The second thing was that I had dropped my gun.
"Kat!" I yelled, banging on the door, and I heard her muffled shouts on the other side. "The shotgun. Do you see it?" I wasn't sure she could even hear me. "Kat, the shotgun!" I screamed as loudly as I could.
"I have it!" She yelled back. There was a bang as she fired it at the handle of the door. It was rock salt, which meant it wouldn't do anything. I turned to study the room and see if there was anything I could use to break out. I felt hot breath on my neck and whipped around, backing away from the spirit, who disappeared as soon as I saw him. There was a hiss behind me and I whipped around again to see him standing there. I forced myself to calm down and think of a way out. I remembered what Sam said. It didn't want to hurt him. Maybe if I just listened it would release me. I swallowed every hunter's instinct in my body telling me to find a way to escape.
"Melody!" I heard Dean yell from the other side of the door. I pressed my back against the wall and faced the spirit, taking a deep, calming breath.
"Mel! Listen, it won't hurt you!" I nodded even though I knew Sam couldn't see me. "You have to face it! You have to calm down,"
"You calm down!" I hollered back, the banter actually making me feel a bit calmer.
"She's got to what?" I could hear the fear and anger in Dean's voice.
"The spirits, they're not trying to hurt us. They're trying to communicate. You've got to face it. It's the only way you're going to get out of there. Look at it, that's all!"
"Mel, do it!" I focused on Dean's voice and forced myself to rest my eyes on the haggard man that was in front of me. The man leaned in to whisper in my ear, and I shivered at the grating voice. 137. That the number it whispered before disappearing. "Mel? Mel!" The door clicked open, and I walked towards it quickly. Dean pulled it open, and rushed inside, holding my face between his hands and studying me for any signs of pain.
"I'm fine," I assured him as Sam looked around with the flashlight. "137,"
"What?" Dean frowned as Sam came over.
"137. That was what it said. I think it's a room number," Dean glanced at me before leading us to the bag he'd dropped outside of the room.
"All right," Sam began as we crouched next to the bag. "So if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone,"
"Then what are they trying to do?" Dean finished the question.
"That may be what they've been trying to tell us," I spoke up quietly.
"I guess we'll find out," We stood, turning back to the two teens. "So, now, you guys ready to leave this place?"
"That's an understatement," Kat told us.
"Okay," Dean turned to Sam. "You get them out of here; we'll go find room 137," We headed off down the hallway in search of the room as Sam led the teens away.
"The rooms are going up this way. Come on," I made a turn down a long deserted hall.
"Bring back memories?" I furrowed my brow at Dean's joking question. "Wasn't there that guy in high school that took you to some haunted warehouse?" I laughed as my expression cleared, and I did remember.
"Micky Larson," I grinned as it all came back. "John was so mad," We both frowned as I said that, "And you were jealous,"
"I was not," He denied immediately.
"You were," I told him, laughing softly as we entered room 137.
"No, I just didn't think he was the right guy for you," Dean tried to worm his way out as I lifted a sign that was on one of the tables: Dr. Sanford Ellicott.
"Because you thought you are?" I raised my eyebrow at him, turning and saw him grinning.
"Maybe," He admitted, and I smiled slightly before going back to the hunt.
"Dr. Sanford Ellicott," I raised the sign so he could see. He knelt by some papers and flipped through them before tossing them aside.
"Hey, I think I found something," I glanced up from where I'd been rummaging through the scattered papers on the table. Dean was pulling out a piece of board from the wall. He took the briefcase out of the hole in the wall and set it on the floor as I knelt beside him. "This is why I get paid the big bucks,"
"You don't get paid at all," I reminded him, shining my flashlight on the book that he'd taken out of the briefcase. "Patient's journal," I read, wincing I could hear distant screaming again. This time, I shut it out. Dean took the book and helped me up, and we moved to the desk.
"Well, all work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy," I hit Dean's shoulder lightly as he quipped, but I couldn't hide the smile that tugged at my lips. There was a rush of wind from behind us, and my head snapped around.
"Don't be afraid. I'm going to make you all better," I stood quickly, the words sending chills down my spine. The owner of the dark, evil voice may as well have been standing right behind me.
"What? What is it?" I shook my head at Dean's concerned questions.
"I don't know, but something's wrong," Dean snapped the book shut and followed me as I hurried through the hallways back the way we'd come. "I think it's through here," The door shut behind us with a bang. We rounded the corner, and my eyes widened as I saw Kat with a shotgun pointed at our heads. I spun, grabbing Dean's jacket and pulling him down behind the wall as the shot embedded itself into the wall we'd been standing in front of a moment earlier.
"You okay?" I checked quickly.
"Yeah, yeah. Damn it," Dean swore, "Don't shoot! It's us!"
"Sorry. Sorry," Kat apologized weakly.
"Son of a bitch," We rose and rounded the corner again. "What are you guys still doing here?"
"Where's Sam?" I added, worry rising in my stomach.
"Uh, he went to the basement. You called him," My heart sunk as my eyes widened.
"We didn't call him," Dean told them.
"His cell phone rang. He said it was you two," Kat told us in confusion.
"Basement, then," I glanced at Dean who nodded. "Watch out for yourselves," I advised the teenagers. "And watch out for us," Dean added, giving them a look before we turned and left to find the basement.
"Sammy?" I had my shotgun pointed at the floor as we descended the steps to the basement. It had only taken us a minute or two to get here, but I had a bad feeling about this whole thing. If Sam were here, why wouldn't he have said something? Or found us? "Sam!" I called again, echoing Dean's calls. My flashlight suddenly illuminated Sam, who was standing right in front of us. Dean jerked back, his arm instinctively wrapping around my waist and pulling me slightly behind him as I aimed the shotgun. We both relaxed when we realized it was just Sam.
"Man! Answer me when I'm calling you!" Dean snapped at him.
"Jesus, Sam, don't do that," I gave him a glare as I regained my breath.
"You all right?" Dean questioned after a moment, seeing Sam's closed face.
"Yeah, I'm fine," He replied sharply, making me scrutinize him.
"You know that wasn't us who called your cell, right?" Dean checked, and Sam nodded.
"Yeah, I think something lured me down here," Sam told us, and I nodded.
"We think we know who - Dr. Ellicott," I informed him. "It's what the other spirits have been trying to tell us,"
"You haven't seen him, have you?" Dean asked, seeing the surprised but guarded look on Sam's face.
"No. How do you know it was him?" I had an uncomfortable feeling about Sam, but I shook it off.
"He had a logbook where he kept track of all the patients he was experimenting on," I explained to him, that persistent feeling coming back again. "We found it in room 137,"
"But it was the patients who rioted," Sam reasoned.
"Yeah, they were rioting against Dr. Ellicott," Dean told him before elaborating. "Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of extreme-rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger, then they could be cured of it. Instead it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier,"
"So, we were thinking that this spirit might be doing the same thing," I added. "The cop killing his wife, and those kids in the seventies. They become so angry they're homicidal,"
"Come on," Dean brushed passed Sam and I followed him. "We got to find his bones and torch them,"
"How? The police never found his body," Sam questioned.
"The logbook said he had some hidden procedure room down here where he did all his experiments," I explained.
"I mean," Dean continued for me. "If I was a patient, I'd drag his ass down here and do a little work on him myself," We turned to go again when Sam stopped us.
"I don't know. It sounds kind of-" Sam shrugged, frowning.
"Crazy?" I finished questioningly.
"Yeah," Sam agreed.
"Exactly," I shot him a smile before returning my gaze to the door that Dean had found. We walked through and shone our flashlights around, not seeing anything particularly out of the ordinary.
"I told you I looked everywhere. I didn't find a hidden room," Sam again tried to deter us from our theory.
"Well, that's why they call it hidden," There was a moment of silence that was filled with a whistling sound. "You hear that?"
"What?" Sam asked pointedly, but I was way ahead of them. I crouched in front of where the whistling was emanating.
"It's here," Dean knelt next to me and put his hand over the bottom of it, feeling the breeze. "There's a door," I confirmed before freezing as I heard the cocking of a gun behind us.
"Dean, Mel," Dean turned to see Sam holding the gun at us. "Step back from the door,"
"Sam, put the gun down," Dean tried to reason with him as my eyes flicked from the barrel of the gun to Sam's stormy brown eyes.
"Is that an order?" He asked sharply.
"It's more of a friendly request," Dean smiled shakily.
"'Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders," He raised the gun further, and I swallowed hard. The gun was filled with rock salt. Even if he did fire, it wouldn't kill.
"I knew it," Dean smirked at him, and Sam frowned back. "Ellicott did something to you, didn't he?" Dean was stalling him, and I tried to think of a way to distract him or knock him out.
"For once in your life just shut your mouth," I stepped forward, and the gun was immediately trained on me. "Don't move," I froze again, my eyes trained on Sam's.
"Or what?" I questioned, hoping I was right. "You're going to shoot me?" I took another small step forward and Sam's finger tightened on the trigger as he cocked his head, regarding me angrily.
"Mel, stop moving," Dean's voice was laced with uncertainty and fear.
"Don't order her around!" Sam snapped, turning on Dean.
"You can't kill me. The gun's filled with rock salt," Dean pointed out, and I knew what was going to happen a second before it did.
"Sam, no!" I screamed as the rock salt hit Dean's chest, sending him through the door and into the hidden room.
"No, but it'll hurt like hell," I barely heard Sam as worry for Dean clouded my mind. I took a quick step in his direction but was stop by Sam cocking the gun at me.
"Don't move," I took another cautious step towards Dean. "I said don't move!" Another step. I needed to make sure he was alright. Another step. "You love him," Sam sneered, and my eyes widened fractionally in surprise.
"Yes, I do," I answered with conviction.
"How can you?" Another couple of steps. I was more than halfway now. "He's arrogant and bossy and annoying," Sam vented as he followed me. One step backward from me, one step forward from Sam.
"Look, Sam, we can help you, okay? I know you're angry, but if we burn Ellicott's bones you'll be better. You'll be able to think clearly-"
"I can think fine!" He snapped at me, and I knew I'd misspoken. "See, that's the thing with you, Mel. You always defend him. You defended Dad too. They don't deserve it! What do you see in him?" I glanced down at Dean who was lying frighteningly still on the floor, before glancing at Sam and then at the gun in his hand and then back to Dean. I couldn't take it anymore and dropped down next to him, cradling his limp head in my hands.
"Dean? Hey, come on," I shook his shoulders, and his eyes fluttered open. He began to gag and cough, his back arching in pain. "You're okay," Despite everything, I smiled in shaky relief that he was fine.
"Mel," His voice held relief as he murmured my name. "Sam…?" My eyes flicked up to Sam, and Dean followed my gaze. "We've got to burn Ellicott's bones, and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal," His voice was gruff with pain as he spoke to Sam.
"Funny, that's what Mel said too. The thing is…" Sam flashed us a hate filled smile. "I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean why are we even here? 'Cause you're are following Dad's orders like a good, little soldier? 'Cause you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?"
"This isn't you talking, Sam," Dean grunted, still lying on the floor.
"That's the difference between you and me and Mel. We have minds of our own. We're not pathetic like you,"
"Sam, just let us burn the bones," I glared at him, hating how he included me as he berated Dean.
"Shut up, Mel!" He snarled at me, and my glare hardened.
"What are you gonna do, Sam?" Dean shouted back, his voice still holding pain but now there was a tinge of rage. "Kill me?"
"You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today then we were six months ago,"
"Let me make it easier for you," I glanced at Dean to see him taking out a pistol from his jacket.
"No," I immediately grabbed the gun to stop him from giving it to Sam.
"It's okay, Mel. He won't shoot me," I frowned, looking into his eyes, trying to see what he was up to. "Besides, if he does he knows you'll give him hell," Slowly, my hands slid off the gun. Give him hell. We'd created that one a year or two ago, before Sam came back. The code word for 'I've got a plan'. He handed the gun to Sam. "Come on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt. Take it," Sam hesitated, glancing between Dean and I before snatching the gun pointing it at Dean. "You hate me that much?" Dean asked him. "You think you can kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger," I positioned myself in front of Dean, so the gun was aimed straight at me.
"Get out of the way," Sam ordered, and I just glared at him.
"No. If you want to kill Dean, you're going to have to kill me too, Sam," Sam cocked the gun, pressing it to my head, and I felt Dean's fingers intertwine with mine. Dean had a plan. Dean had a plan. Dean had a plan. I repeated the mantra in my head, and it kept me calm as the gun trembled slightly in Sam's hands. "Do it!" There was a click but no shot. He glared in confusion and pulled the trigger again. I quickly regained my scattered wits and grabbed the unloaded gun, pulling it to the side as Dean lunged upward to punch Sam in the face. I got to my feet as Dean panted, doubled over.
"Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded gun," Dean punched him again, efficiently knocking Sam out. I grabbed the discarded shotgun, cocking it before turning back to Dean, who was looking at me.
"What?" I questioned, catching his look.
"Don't do that again," Seeing my confusion, he continued. "You were going to take the bullet for me," My confusion cleared instantly, and I smiled slightly.
"You okay?" I asked instead of answering.
"Yeah, I think so," We walked around the hidden room, looking for a place big enough to hide a body. My eyes fell on a cabinet, and, on a hunch, I walked towards it.
"Dean, I think I found it," I felt Dean crouch behind me as I opened the cabinet doors. The stench was overpowering, and I gagged, turning my head away and covering my nose with the back of my hand.
"Oh, that's just gross," Dean groaned disgustedly.
"Yeah," I agreed, zipping open the bag and sprinkling the corpse with salt while Dean unscrewed the gasoline. I turned to take a quick breath and almost lost my lunch at the rank odor.
"Soak it up," Dean muttered as he finished with the gasoline. I glanced at him as he talked, but my eyes slid passed him to look at the flickering flashlight.
"Dean!" I shouted a warning, diving out of the way of the tray as it smashed into Dean and sent him sprawling. I pushed myself up hurriedly as I saw the ghost straddling Dean and heard the crackle of electricity fill the air.
"Don't be afraid. I'm going to help you," I grabbed the matches from the ground. "I'm going to make you all better," The doctor was saying as Dean yelled in pain. I struck a match and lit up the corpse. The doctor released Dean, who scrambled towards me quickly. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me backwards, away from the doctor that was now facing us. He held up his hands as they began to turn to black stone. Dean and I were laying on the floor, my face pressed into his jacket and his pressed into my hair. The doctor fell, the stone cracking and breaking into dust. Slowly, Dean loosened his grip on me, and we sat up, glancing at the dead spirit. There was a groan from behind us, and I turned to see Sam was waking up.
"You're not gonna try to kill us, right?" I asked him.
"No," Sam answered.
"Good. 'Cause that would be awkward," I let out a small laugh at Dean's words, shaking my head at him.
"Thanks," Kat told us as we faced the teens.
"Yeah, thanks," Her boyfriend echoed gratefully.
"No more haunted asylums, okay?" Dean told them, and they nodded in agreement before walking away. I smiled as I saw Gavin's arm go around Kat's shoulders.
"Hey, guys," My eyes shifted from Gavin's retreating car to Sam's guilty face as he looked away from Dean and I. "I'm sorry. I said some awful things back there,"
"You remember all that?" I questioned, slightly surprised.
"Yeah," He glanced at Dean but didn't meet my eyes. "It's like I couldn't control it, but I didn't mean it - any of it," Sam emphasized the last part, his eyes finally finding me.
"You didn't, huh?" Dean echoed doubtfully.
"No, of course not," Dean glanced at me, and I saw the distrust in his gaze as he nodded. What do you see in him? Sam's bitter words from earlier bounced around in my head. He had sounded almost… jealous. But that was ridiculous. I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts. Sam was my little brother. "Do we need to talk about this?" Sam asked, his eyes flicking between Dean and I.
"No," Dean answered, slipping his arm from around my shoulders and opening the car door. "I'm not really in the sharing and caring kind of mood. I just want to get some sleep," He slammed the door behind him, and I offered Sammy a slightly strained smile before starting towards the door.
"Mel," I glanced back, my hand on the door. "How did you know the gun wasn't loaded?" Sammy asked me.
"I didn't," I replied, and Sam's mouth formed an 'o' of horrified shock.
"I'm sorry," I held up a hand to stop his apology.
"It wasn't you, Sammy," It wasn't him. I repeated in my head. None of it was. "It was Dr. Ellicott," I opened the door and slipped inside next to Dean. We drove for most of that day, and it was eleven when we finally stopped and got a motel room. We only got one room this time because the motel only had one available and the next motel was at least an hour. We'd barely dumped our stuff in the room when Sam took the car to get some takeout.
"I was serious," I glanced at Dean as I came out of the bathroom in shorts and one of his shirts. I'd started sleeping in Dean's shirts ever since the nightmares had started. "Back in the asylum about you taking a bullet for me,"
"Dean-" I started.
"You had no way of knowing that gun wasn't loaded-" He cut me off.
"I trust you," I interrupted him, going through my bag and tucking a small knife under the mattress like I always do. "You wouldn't just hand crazy Sam a loaded gun. Besides, give him hell," I reminded him of our code as I turned to face him.
"You had no idea what I was doing," How could Dean be so thick sometimes? Of course I would have given my life to save him. "Mels, I don't want you risking your life for me,"
"I do that every day! I've been doing that for years, Dean. Practically ever since we could walk. And it's not like you don't do the same," I pointed out, getting a bit angry now.
"This is different!" He finally exploded, and I could see that behind the anger he'd been scared.
"Dean, even if it wasn't Sam and you hadn't given him the pistol, I still would've stood in front of you!" I yelled back. It was true. Even if it had been a loaded gun, I still would've been between Dean and the gun.
"Why?" He shouted.
"Because I love you!" I hadn't meant for the words to come out of my mouth, and I swallowed hard, not able to tear my eyes from Dean's stunned ones. "I love you," I repeated, not backing down from the words. "And I-" I was cut off by Dean's mouth harshly pressed against mine. I broke away, smiling as Dean rested his forehead against mine with closed eyes.
"You would not believe how long I've waited to hear you say that," He whispered, and I raised my lips to meet his passionately. This time he broke away, but only long enough to whisper, "I love you,". He pressed me against the wall, pulling his shirt over my head; I did the same with his. He propped me up with his hands under my thighs and my legs wrapped around his waist. We stumbled backward blindly until we made it to the bed. My back hit the bed as I undid his belt quickly. He covered my body with his.
I blinked awake at a cell ringing on the nightstand. I shifted, and Dean, who was lying behind me with his arms around my waist, gave a moan of protest. The cell rang again.
"Dean. Mel," Sam called sleepily from the bed across from us. My eyes suddenly shot open and I glanced down at myself only to realize I'd put on Dean's shirt and my shorts before Sam had come back.
"I got it," I mumbled tiredly, searching blindly for the phone. My fingers closed around the cool surface, and I flipped it open, pressing the speaker to my ear. "Hello?" My voice sounded groggy, but I didn't really care.
"Mel?" Whatever sleep had been making me slow was gone in an instant, and I shot up, suddenly completely focused on the voice on the line.
"John?"