Winchester and Cain

by Blue-Eyed AngelGirl

Remember when Sam and Dean were driving in the Impala on that deserted highway in that pilot episode? You're probably gonna have to think a little bit to remember. They're driving and they almost hit a mysterious girl dressed all in black, standing in the middle of the road - like she has no idea where she is, 'girl in black' sounds like a beloved book character we all know, right?

10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Thank you all again for your lovely reviews! In response to one: I absolutely loved TDOL, after I read the final page I closed the book, got up from the sofa and ran into the nearest empty room to cry. And before you all ask, yes it was embarrassing to cry over a book. But I have no shame; those books were a big influence on my childhood.

Winchester and Cain

Chapter 10 – Asylum

Valkyrie's P.O.V

"No, Dad was in California last we heard from him. We just thought... he comes to you for ammunitions... maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. Just, call us if you hear anything." Sam paused as a voice replied on the speaker. "Thanks." Sam gave a small smile but it didn't last, he sighed when he hung up. Dean and I watched him from the table, we were in one of the worst motel rooms we had been in yet, the wallpaper was flaky and an ugly, dull olive colour, the carpet was ratty and the thread was frayed. Still, at least there were no bugs in this one.

"Caleb hasn't heard from him?" Dean asked as Sam pocketed his mobile.

"Nope. And neither has Pastor Jim or Jefferson. What about the journal? Any leads in there?" Sam asked, looking at the journal that lay open in front of me.

"No, same as last time we looked. There's nothing I can make out... I know you guys love him, but I swear, he writes like freaking Yoda." I sighed and pushed the book away from me, Dean smiled a little at the comment.

"I've been thinking... maybe we should call the Feds, file a missing person's." Sam suggested, sitting on the bed nearest to the table.

"We've all talked about this: Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail." Dean sighed and shook his head in disagreement.

"I don't care anymore." Sam shrugged.

"Maybe Sam has a point, Dean. Your Dad's been missing for three months now." I pointed out, Dean turned and gave me a look, but I held his gaze evenly, "You said you called him whilst we were in Kansas, well, where is he?"

"Steph's right: after all that happened back in Kansas, I mean: he should've been there, Dean. You said so yourself. You tried to call him and... nothing." Sam added, a mobile phone began to ring and Dean got up and walked across the room to find it.

"I know!" He snapped as he rummaged through his rucksack, "Where the hell is my cellphone?"

"You know," Sam continued, "He could be dead for all we know."

"Don't say that! He's not dead! He's – he's..." Dean trailed off and started yanking out clothes and weapons from his rucksack whilst the phone continued to ring.

"He's what? He's hiding? He's busy?" Sam asked scornfully. Dean ignored him as the mobile's ringing cut off, he sighed irritably when he pulled it out.

"Number was blocked, I don't know who it was." Dean rubbed his eyes tiredly as he looked at the screen, his hand dropped away from his face as he read something.

"Huh. I don't believe it." He murmured, shaking his head as a disbelieving smile spread across his face.

"Don't believe what? What is it?" I asked, looking at him in confusion.

"It was a, uh... a phone call and then a text message. The text shows coordinates." Dean answered, hurrying back to the table and opening the laptop that lay there on charge.

"You think it's Dad texting us?" Sam asked him as Dean typed frantically onto the keys.

"He's given us coordinates before." Dean shrugged, not taking his eyes off the laptop screen.

Sam raised an eyebrow, "The man can barely work a toaster, Dean." He said.

"Guys, it's good news! It means he's ok, or alive at least." Dean replied.

"But you said the number was blocked, Dean, wouldn't he wanna talk to you two after all this time?" I argued.

Dean didn't reply.

"Well, where do the coordinates point?" Sam asked, breaking the pause.

"That's the interesting part: Rockford, Illinois." Dean replied this time, looking at his brother excitedly.

"Ok, and that's interesting how?" Sam frowned.

"I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this." Dean explained, turning around the laptop screen and showing us a news article, "So this cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth – blows his brains out." Dean explained whilst we looked at a photograph of a man in his mid thirties.

"Lovely." I grimaced.

"And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum." Dean continued, Sam looked up at him.

"Ok, I'm not following. What has this got to do with us?" The younger Winchester asked.

"Roosevelt Asylum," I echoed, "That sounds familiar..." I trailed off and looked back at the journal that lay out on the table, "It's been written in there."

"Yep, Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal." Dean nodded, I gestured and the journal flew into my awaiting hand, I opened it and flicked through the pages.

"Let's see..." I murmured, skimming over the text, "Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths – till last week at least. I think this is where your Dad wants us to go." I tapped the page and gave it to Dean.

"This is a job," Sam snorted, "Dad wants us to work a job."

"Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there." Dean reasoned, his tone hopeful.

I exchanged an uncertain glance with Sam, "Maybe he's not? I mean, your Dad could be sending us there, by ourselves to hunt this thing." I pointed out.

Dean flared up, "Who cares! If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!" His shouts echoed around the room and his words hung heavy in the air.

"This doesn't strike you as weird? The texting?" Sam asked.

"The phonecalling?" I added.

"The coordinates?" Sam finished, Dean's gaze shifted from Sam and I and he slammed his hand down on the table, demanding a silence.

"Guys! Dad's telling us to go somewhere, we're going." Dean finalised and got up from his seat, walking over to the bed where his rucksack lay, "Pack your things, we're leaving ASAP." I caught Sam's eye and he shrugged.

Dean drove faster than he had ever driven before, carelessly speeding down the highways and cutting past angry drivers, his music blaring as loud as it would go. We arrived in Rockford at around nine at night and we hit the first bar we came to. Sam and I hung back as Dean approached a man who sat a little way away from the other patrons, his left hand was wrapped tightly around his drink, "You're Daniel Gunderson. You're a cop, right?" Dean said as he walked over.

"Yeah." The man replied, not looking at Dean.

"Hi. I'm, uh, Nigel Tufnel, The Chicago Tribune. Mind if I ask you a few questions, about your partner?" Dean asked him.

The man looked up at him now, his eyes were narrowed guardedly, "Yeah, I do. I'm just tryna have a beer here."

"That's ok, I swear it won't take that long. I just want to get the story in your words." Dean pressed.

"A week ago, my partner was sitting in that chair. Now he's dead. You gonna ambush me here?" Daniel exclaimed.

"Sorry, but I need to know what happened." Dean shrugged, unaffected.

"Right, let's do it." Sam said, his voice only loud enough for me to hear, I nodded and we walked over to where Dean and Daniel were, Sam stormed over to his brother and shoved him away roughly, a fake look of rage upon his face that looked so, so real. "Hey buddy, why don't you leave the poor guy alone! The man's an officer! Why dontcha show a little respect." Sam roared, Dean stared at the two of us for a moment, and then he walked away.

"You didn't have to do that." Daniel looked at us gratefully.

"Of course he did," I gave him a smile, "That guy's a serious jerk." I raised my voice, using the word Sam had taught me and making it loud enough so Dean could hear from the other side of the room.

"She's right, guys like that are just morons. Let me buy you a beer, huh?" Sam shrugged, then turned to the barman, "Three?" He asked, holding up three fingers.

"Thanks." The officer smiled thankfully at us and we took two seats at the table with him.

We exited the bar twenty minutes later and found Dean leaning against the hood of his beloved car, "Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy." He frowned at his brother.

"I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting." Sam shrugged.

"Huh?" Dean gave us a vacant look.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Never mind." He sighed, Dean looked at me, his eyes reflected with hurt and playfulness.

"I loved the use of jerk, by the way." He smirked and I shrugged.

"Sam taught me it, I'm glad you heard it, you really are a jerk." I grinned and Dean rolled his eyes.

"I am not, besides, if I am," Dean suddenly pulled me in close, his hands snaking round my waist, my back to him as I felt his warm breath in my ear, "That means you like that I'm a jerk." His voice sounded and I folded into him, unable to keep the smile from my face as Dean traced soothing patterns with his fingers on my waist.

"Guys, I'm stood right here." Sam frowned at us.

Even though I couldn't see it, I could tell Dean was rolling his eyes, "Oh, come on. It's nothing you haven't seen before."

"Yeah, and everytime I see it I wanna throw up." Sam retorted, glaring at his older brother. Dean sighed and arm reluctantly unwrapped from my waist as he stepped away from me, although the warmth from his fingers still lingered in my hair and on my waist.

I shivered against the cold air slightly and cleared my throat forcefully, "Right, we found out Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, got on well with everyone – he had a bright future ahead of him."

"What about at home?" Dean asked.

"He and his wife had a few fights," Sam shrugged, taking over, "Like everybody, but he was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids."

"Right, so either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him." Dean nodded slowly, "What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?" He asked.

Sam and I exchanged a look, "A lot." We said.

It was only a short drive to Roosevelt Asylum, and soon the three of us were clearing the tall, rusted chain linked fence of the Asylum and entering the abandoned building. The interior of the Asylum wasn't much better than the exterior: almost all of the windows had been smashed open, but the old metal bars remained vigilantly on the sills, preventing anyone's escape attempt. The inside of the building looked like a hurricane had torn through it, leaving chaos in it's wake: tables and beds were flipped over and furniture had broken, contents on trays had spilled out across the floor, dirty bedsheets were shredded and littered across the floor. "So apparently the cops chased the kids here... into the south wing." Sam explained to Dean, clicking on his torch and shining the beam over a sign on the dusty, concrete wall:

SOUTH WING

"South wing, huh?" Dean echoed, glancing up at the fading sign, I clicked my fingers and caught a spark, the flame flickered brilliantly in my right palm against the bitter gloom of the cold Asylum, I glanced once more at the mess and then back to the boys, Dean was flicking through the pages of their Dad's journal, "'1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived.' Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place."

"So whatever's going on, the south wing is the heart of it." I muttered.

"But if the kids are breaking into the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?" Sam wondered, I felt the air shift faintly to my right and I whipped around, my eyes narrowed as I searched the area where I had felt something, I saw a side door and saw the dark outline of a broken chained tied to the door.

"Looks like the doors are usually chained. Could've been chained up for years." I noted.

"Yeah, to keep people out. Or to keep something in." Dean responded, we shared a long stare at eachother whilst Sam walked over and pushed against the door, it creaked and groaned, dust billowed out as it slowly swung open, revealing a dark, dilapidated hallway. We walked through the door and stepped down the hallway in unease, "Let me know if you see any dead people, Hayley Joel." Dean smirked at his brother.

Sam gave Dean a bored glance, "Dude. Enough."

"I'm serious," Dean pressed, "You gotta be careful, alright? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you have going on."

"I told you, it's not ESP!" Sam sighed, "I just have strange vibes sometimes. Weird dreams."

"Yeah, whatever," Dean shrugged, "Don't ask, don't tell."

"Guys: just shut up." I hushed them, my gaze looking out for anything that could jump out and possibly kill us slasher-style.

"You get a reading on that thing or not?" Sam asked, breaking the silence and looking at Dean.

"Nope, of course – it doesn't mean no one's home." Dean sighed, checking his homemade EMF meter.

"Spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day." Sam stated and I glanced at him with a frown.

"How could you possibly know that?" I asked him in confusion.

Sam opened his mouth to answer but Dean beat him to it, "Here's the thing: Bigfoot here is our own little not-40-year-old-but-virgin." He smirked and clapped his brother on the shoulder, Sam shot him a death glare and I waited until he turned away until I allowed the awaiting smile to spill over my face.

"I hate you, Dean." Sam muttered grumpily and Dean chuckled.

"Aww, don't be like that, Sammy. Lighten up." He tried to reason and Sam sighed in defeat, "Anyway, you are right: the freaks come out at night."

"Yeah." Sam said in an off-hand tone.

Dean clicked his tongue and I went back to watching the flame in my hand cast dancing shadows along the walls, "Hey Sam, who do you think is the hotter psychic: Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love-Hewitt, or you?" He dead panned and I burst out laughing, Sam huffed annoyedly and his pace increased. Dean shrugged at me and I rolled my eyes, but a grin tugged the ends of my mouth, we walked in silence until we reached another old, aged door, Dean reached forward and pushed the door open.

The door revealed another room like the first one, various medical contents were strewn across the dusty floor, the furniture was tipped over and smashed violently. Dean whistled as we surveyed the scene, "Man. Electro-shock, lobotomies... They did some twisted stuff to these people. Kinda like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest." He made his eyes wide and crazy looking as he shot Sam and I manic grin, but we both ignored it and shone our lights to take a closer look at the equipment.

"So, what do you guys think? Ghost possession?" I asked, crouching down and looking at a suspicious greying liquid in rusting syringes.

"Maybe," Sam shrugged in response, "Or maybe it's more Amityville, or the Smurl hunting."

"Yeah, I don't know what any of that means." I gave a small smile, standing back up.

"Spirits driving them insane. Kinda like my man Jack in The Shining." Dean grinned at us again and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Dean," Sam called, and his brother looked up, "When are we going to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Dean asked, "My man Jack?" He smirked.

"About the fact Dad's not here." Sam answered.

Dean's smile faded, "Oh. I see. How 'bout... never."

"I'm being serious, man. He sent us here..." Sam trailed off and looked away as his brother frowned.

"So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here. He obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later." Dean tried to end the conversation hastily.

"It doesn't matter what he wants." Sam replied.

"See — that attitude? Right there? That is why I always get the extra cookie." Dean sighed and shook his head at Sam.

"Dad could be in trouble, we should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about." Sam tried to reason with his brother.

s

"I understand that, Sam. But he's given us an order." Dean said, narrowing his eyes at him. I looked away, suddenly feeling the heavy tension in the atmosphere between the brothers.

"So what, we gotta always follow Dad's orders?" Sam asked sceptically.

Dean looked at Sam like he was crazy, "Of course we do." He nodded angrily, Sam shot Dean a frustrated look, but he turned away from him, giving the conversation an abrupt end. "'Sanford Ellicott'," Dean said, I turned and saw he was reading a battered old sign with a name on it, "We gotta find out more about the south wing, see if something happened here." He walked away as Sam and I inspected the discarded sign, Sam stared down at the sign with narrowed eyes, his jaw clenched.

I sighed as Dean walked from the room, making his way back to where we came in, "Come on, Sam. Let's get out of here." I told him, Sam sighed and nodded, and we exited from the room and followed Dean.

Dean and I were leaning against the slightly tinted glass windows of the hospital, Sam had offered to go into the psychiatric clinic to talk to Dr. Ellicott, and he had asked to be alone. Dean and I had shrugged and allowed him to go in alone, but I was soon regretting the decision: there was nothing to do outside whilst Sam was inside doing the important part of the work. "I'm bored." I sighed and looked at the older Winchester, he was staring off into the distant and looking deep in thought.

After a moment he turned to me, "Huh?"

"Bored. I'm bored." I repeated.

"Well, we opted for Sammy going in on the inside alone, what do you want me to do about it." Dean shrugged.

I opened my mouth and closed it: he was right, Sam was in a hospital in a psychiatric ward posing as a client, and he was probably having more fun than we were. "I hate being bored." I muttered grumpily, fidgeting and taking my jacket off, letting the sun rays fall on my bare arms. I stretched and closed my eyes, arching my back and holding the pose, enjoying the satisfaction stretching gave.

I sighed and opened my eyes slowly, running a hand through my hair and moving some of it from my face, "What's that made of?" Dean suddenly asked, I glanced at him and saw he was looking curiously at the jacket folded over my arms.

"It's made from a special material, I don't know the name of it." I shrugged lazily, Dean held his hand out and I reluctantly handed it to him: that jacket had saved my lives countless of times, and I didn't plan on losing it any time soon.

"What's so special about it? You never take it off." Dean asked, glancing up at me.

"It's armoured, protects me from bullets and hits and stuff, it's saved my lives so many times." I explained as Dean ran his hand over the black material.

"Oh yeah, you said a while back it was protective..." Dean murmured as he studied the coat closely, "Who made it for you?" He asked as I held my hand out, I took it back and folded it over my arm.

"A friend." I responded in a cryptic tone.

"Gee, thanks for the specific answer." Dean rolled his eyes, I broke into a small smile at his complaint and gave a half-hearted shrug.

"What's the point of saying his name? He was a friend. He made me this outfit. I'm never going to see him again." I replied, Dean's frown softened and I turned away, squeezing my eyes shut as I shrugged the jacket on.

"Listen, Steph-." Dean started, but the doors burst open and Sam walked straight out at a quickened pace, he passed us and we hurried to catch up to him. "Dude! You were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?" He looked at his brother as we walked across the road, pausing to allow a few vehicles to pass by us like angry charged bullets.

"Just the hospital, you know." Sam shrugged, his comment short and off-hand, I glanced at Dean and he frowned.

"And..?" I pressed as we began to cross the road, Sam's pace was still fast-tempered.

"And the south wing? It's where they housed the really hard cases. The psychotics, the criminally insane." Sam answered ad Dean scoffed loudly.

"Sounds cosy." He muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a thin smile, "And get this: one night in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff, attacked eachother."

"Lovely." I sighed as we reached the pavement and began walking down it, the car was parked a little way up ahead, the sunlight glared off the windscreen, even from this distance.

"Yeah, sounds like they had their own little tea party. Did they just take over the whole asylum or..." Dean responded, glancing up at his older brother.

"Apparently." Sam shrugged again.

"Were there any deaths?" I asked.

"Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never recovered, including our chief of staff, Ellicott." Sam answered and it was my turn to frown.

"Wait, what do you mean, 'never recovered'?" I asked, Sam slowed his pace and we came to a stop in the warm sunlight.

"Cops scoured every inch of the place but I guess the patients must've... stuffed the bodies somewhere hidden." The younger Winchester answered, there was a brief silence and I exchanged a disgusted look with Dean.

"That's grim." Dean wrinkled his nose.

Sam nodded, "Yeah," He agreed, "So: they transferred all the remaining patients, and closed the hospital down." We started walking again, only several steps away from where Dean's car was parked, amusingly he had parked it as far away from anyone else's in order to reduce the damage rate.

"So, in summary: we've got a load of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies." I finalised.

"And several angry spirits." Sam nodded.

"Good times," Dean faked a smile and sighed as we reached the car, "Let's check out the hospital tonight."

We entered the asylum the same way we did last time, Sam led the way in and pushed open the old rotting door, Dean and I followed close behind. As we walked into the same dust-covered, mess-filled room Sam pulled out his video camera and a torch, Dean switched his EMF meter on and it beeped once, I clicked my fingers as Dean turned on the spot, surveying the room. The beeping was rapidly breaking through the silence, Sam and I looked at him.

"Getting readings?" I asked him with a smile.

"Yeah, big time." Dean responded, frowning as he looked down at the meter.

"This place is orbing like crazy." Sam muttered, shining his torch at the overturned furniture and strewn out papers.

"Probably multiple spirits out and about." The older Winchester shrugged.

"And if these uncovered bodies are causing the haunting..." Sam speculated, trailing off in thought.

It was silent as the realisation hit us all in the dark, "Right," Dean took charge, "We gotta find 'em and burn 'em. We need to be careful though, the only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit... is the pissed off spirit of a psycho killer." Sam and I exchanged a look and we resumed walking, going through a doorway and found ourselves in front of two ramshackled doors. "Right, we split up. Sam go left, me and Steph'll go right." He said, Sam didn't say anything and stepped through to the left, Dean and I went right.

The room we entered was just as dead as the last, there were several dark stains on the walls and the floor that looked suspiciously like blood, I didn't take a closer look to see if I was right. Beside me Dean sighed as his torch beam shone over the mess that filled the room, he turned to me and opened his mouth but was cut off by a sharp call.

"Dean?! Steph!" We heard Sam's panicked shouts and raced out of the room, we tore into the adjourning room to find Sam stood frozen as an old woman walked towards her. Her hair was white, wild and wiry, her left eye was bloody and hung half out and dried as it swung under her dark eye socket. I clicked my fingers and threw fire at it, but it passed through her harmlessly, I narrowed my eyes and snapped my palms out, the air shimmered and the woman staggered back, her head cocked and she looked at me blankly.

"Shotgun!" I screamed to Dean, he wasted no time in rummaging through his rucksack and pulling out his gun.

"Get down!" He barked the order to Sam and he threw himself to the ground, Dean aimed and wasted no time in firing three shots, they hit the woman and she dissipated into the air.

"Well, that was weird." Sam breathed, glancing around the room before looking at Dean and I.

I exchanged a look with Dean, "Yeah, you're telling us." I chuckled, shaking my head as a small disbelieving smile appeared on my face.

"No, guys, I mean it was weird that she didn't attack me." Sam shook his head.

"Looked pretty aggro from where I was standing." Dean frowned.

"What do you mean, 'she didn't attack me'." I said at the same time.

"Then I guess it's not what it looked like. She didn't hurt me, she didn't even try!" Sam protested and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"So... if she didn't in fact try and hurt you... what did she want?" I asked, looking at the youngest Winchester in confusion.

Sam merely shrugged and shines his torch around the room once more, I clicked my fingers and summoned another flame, mainly using it to keep my hand warm and use Sam's torch beam for light. Dean rubbed his eyes tiredly and gave a long sigh, "Ok, there's no use to us standing in an empty room, lets search elsewhere." He said, I nodded and followed the boys as we exited the dark room. We trudged down yet another dusty corridor – lit only by Sam's torch beam and the soft, warm glow of my flame, as we passed another room there was a noise, like the noise of metal across the floor, we froze and whirled towards the sound. Sam pointed to the door and we crept up to it, my hand found the handle and it turned with a small creak, I eased it open carefully, making sure it didn't smash against the adjourning wall. We were met with another patient's room, it matched all the others in untidiness, the room was fairly bare, save for a simple single bed with a rusted and bent frame, it was tipped on it's side—the ragged and torn bed sheet was clinging on to the edge, fighting to cover the mattress. I narrowed my eyes at the bed as Sam and Dean entered the room behind me, Dean had his gun raised and ready to fire at anything that moved, once they reached me Sam tapped me. I looked back at him and he motioned for me to inspect the bed, I frowned and pointed to him, the boys exchanged a look and simultaneously shoved me towards the bed, I glared daggers at them both and rolled my eyes. I reached the bed and saw a blonde covered head crouched the other side, and the figure was breathing quietly, I reached out and gave the mattress a short, sharp push. The bed groaned and heaved onto all four of its legs with a screech, the figure jumped up and I raised my hand, ready to throw a fireball if the ghost attacked. The figure turned and I was met with a girl around my age, definitely not a ghost. My own eyes widened and I quickly let the flame in my hand go out, backing up to the boys as the girl moved out from behind the bed.

She took quick, panicked breaths and regarded us with wary brown eyes, "It's alright," I assured her, giving her a small smile, "It's ok," I repeated in a clear voice as her breathing got louder, "What's your name?"

"Katherine." The girl breathed, then she frowned, "Kat." She corrected.

"I'm Dean, this is Sam and that's Steph." Dean replied, his gun down by his side and a warm smile on his face.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked her.

"Um... My boyfriend, Gavin." She answered with a shrug.

"Is he here with you?" I asked.

"Somewhere," She shrugged, "He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts. I thought it was all just... you know, pretend. But, but I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream and..." She trailed off and put the her hands over her face, I rolled my eyes at the boys and forced another smile on my face.

"Ok, uh, Kat?" The girl looked up at me with teary eyes, "Come on. Sam here's gonna get you out of here and then we're going to find your boyfriend." I told her.

"No! No. I'm not going to leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you." She shook her head stubbornly, I frowned and stepped over to her.

"Right, Kat? I'm gonna lay it down for you," I put my hand on the teenager's shoulder, "Because you guys decided to break in and trespass in a haunted asylum, we have to find your boyfriend as well as finish whatever we came here to do. Because of you and Gavin, we have to babysit, and don't you think it would be better for everyone here to just go home?" I frowned and shook my head, Kat looked at me with surprised eyes, the tears no longer in them.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence.

"Oh, wow." Dean rolled his eyes and pulled me away from the girl, "Steph, can I talk to you over there for a sec?" He asked in a forced tone.

I frowned in confusion, "Why?"

"You'll see. Sam, take over." He ordered, dragging me away from Sam and Kat, he didn't say anything until we were out in the corridor, "What the hell is wrong with you?" He demanded.

I looked at him in complete and utter confusion, "What did I do?"

"Where do I start?" He scoffed, "Do you have any tact whatsoever? That girl in there went in here with her boyfriend, it's gonna take a lot more than some girl telling her to leave him and go home."

I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms, "That's exactly what she needed to be told," I argued in a hushed whisper, "We would have passed by that room and then a ghost would have killed her unless she hadn't made a noise. If we just let her tag along she could get killed, or worse – one of us killed!"

"If she wants to come, she can come with us. Just tell me this: if the roles were reversed, would you leave one us in there and allow yourself to be taken out on the sidelines?" He asked.

I opened my mouth to make a sharp retort but it died on my tongue, and I just glared in response and snatched the handgun from the holster on his belt, angrily snapping the safety off. "Fine. But something happens to us because of her, it's on you." I scoffed and left him out in the hallway, alone. I smiled thinly as I stepped back into the room, "So, I guess you're coming with us, Kat. How are we going to do this?"

"We're gonna split up, me and Sam'll take one wing, you and Kat can take the other. Ring us if you find anything." Dean announced behind me as he entered the room, I gritted my teeth upon hearing the plan but decided against protesting.

I checked through the rooms quickly and quietly, not making a sound as I checked behind the desks and beds, even in the dressers and closets. Kat had a tendency to dawdle behind me, complaining about the cold and even kicked some broken pieces of furniture glumly, I tried to ignore it and held the torch Sam had given us in a death grip. The third time she did it, I turned and gave her a forced smile, remembering Dean's words. "Um, hey, Kat?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"I have just one question for you, you've seen a lot of horror films, yeah?" I stopped, she looked down at the ground and shrugged.

"I guess so." She responded with an air of nonchalance.

"Do me a favour. Next time you see one? Pay attention. When someone says a place is haunted – don't go in!" I exclaimed, Kat went red slightly and shivered, I sighed and took off my jacket, slipping it from my shoulders and reluctantly handing it to her, "Here, this'll keep you warm."

Kat stared at me for a moment before taking the jacket, quickly slipping it on her shoulders and giving me a smile, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." I replied dully, turning away from her.

"I mean, really, thank you-."

"No, seriously, don't mention it. Because that jacket means a lot to me, so don't lose it." I gave her a hard stare and she nodded obediently. We walked onwards and she didn't dawdle, and made sure to see where she was stepping. After a few minutes I was seriously regretting asking for a tight sleeveless tunic from Ghastly, the cold closed in on me and I couldn't shake it, but then I caught my reflection in the mirror and admired my figure and realised why I had asked for a such a tight top, and suddenly didn't noticed the cold as much.

As we entered another hallway the torch light flickered, vainly trying to fight away the dark over powering shroud of shadows, it cut out altogether and I sighed, "You son of a bitch," I muttered and threw the torch to Kat, who caught it in an awkward two-handed grip, "Here, put this in one of the pockets, don't worry, I have a lighter." I assured her, clicking my fingers on my right hand and checking the handgun I had taken from Dean in my left hand, the flame flickered and danced strongly in my palm, illuminating the floor and the bottom of the walls brightly.

"Ow. You're hurting my arm." Kat complained from behind me, I looked up from the flame and frowned.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, turning to her, she was two large paces away from me and I definitely wasn't clinging onto her arm like some scared little schoolgirl. We both looked down at her arm and saw a grey, disembodied hand clutching tightly onto Kat's arm. My eyes narrowed and I moved like a snake, snapping my palm against the air. I didn't expect anything to happen, but amazingly something did: the pale, disincarnate hand let go of Kat as I stepped towards her, she was quiet as I shoved her behind me protectively. I held my palm out and shakily read the air readings, sighing as I felt nothing brush past, I turned to Kat and gave her a weak smile. "It's fine, it's gone." I assured her, the girl smiled back and opened her mouth to respond, but something cold and clammy wrapped around my neck and hauled me backwards, I screamed as I was pulled back into a room, Kat cried out in horror before the door slammed shut before me.

"Steph!" I heard Kat call distantly, she banged on the door and I whirled in fear, looking for the thing that grabbed me, but it wasn't there anymore. I ran over to the door and tugged at the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

"Kat, get Dean!" I called to her, I could hear her sob and then her running footsteps fading away from me, I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the dim and swapped the gun for my right hand, it shook slightly but I passed it off as adrenaline.

I must have waited in the dark for about three minutes, but it felt like an age until I heard rushing footsteps through the walls, there was a loud banging on the door and I jumped. "Where is she? Which room is she in?" I heard Dean's voice and sighed, jiggling the handle of my door.

"Dean!" I called, "Dean it won't open!"

"Right, ok. Don't worry, it's gonna be ok!" Dean called back and even though he couldn't see, I found myself nodding in agreement to him.

"Where's Sam?" I called, trying to change the topic to keep the fear that was curdling inside me at bay.

"I left him to find Gavin on his own, he's fine though, don't worry." Dean responded, he kept trying with the door and I found myself getting colder and colder as his attempts failed.

"Let me out! Please!" I screamed, my voice cracked as I looked at the old, moulding walls.

"Steph, hang on!" Dean called back, I ran a hand through my hair and shivered slightly.

"Is it working, can you get it open?" I heard Kat's hushed tones and stayed quiet, waiting for Dean's reply.

"I don't know," Dean replied in a quiet voice, he obviously thought I couldn't hear him, "But I'm not leaving her in there."

The air brushed against my hands faintly and I narrowed my eyes, backing away from the door with slow, steady steps. I stopped when I heard someone behind me, they were taking deep, heavy breaths, so heavy I could feel their breath on my bare shoulders. I closed my eyes and readied the handgun, I took a quick breath and opened them, whirling on the spot to find nothing. I frowned and snapped my fingers, summoning a flame so I could see through the gloom, I glanced at the edges at the end of the room and once I was satisfied that no one was stood there I turned back to the door where Dean was trying to break into and screamed. Stood there was a tall, heavyset grey figure, with dark oily hair to match his hooded eyes. His face was beaten and bloody, but the rest of his skin dark and had a sick, clammy grey pallor. I couldn't help it: I let out a terrified scream and back up to the door, only to back into the ghost, I could hear his breath but I couldn't feel it, making me all the more creeped out. "Dean!" I screamed in terror, backing up from the spectral figure.

Outside the room I could hear running footsteps again, "What's going on?" I recognised Sam's voice.

"It's Steph – she's in there with one of them." I heard Dean say, the ghost tilted his head and I narrowed my eyes: he had tilted it just like Skulduggery did.

It flickered again and opened it's mouth, it's expression blank as it reached it's hand out, I took a step back and whipped the shadows wildly at it, "Help me!" I shrieked, the ghost advanced forward.

"Steph!" I heard Dean again and shook my head, my back pressed up against the wall. I ran my hand through my hair and slid down the wall in defeat.

"Get me out of here!" I yelled, using the shadows again as a last ditch effort, it didn't work, the figure continued closer, his head still cocked and his hooded eyes still blank, vacant.

"Steph, it's not going to hurt you. Listen to me. You've got to face it, calm it down." I heard Sam's orders and frowned.

"She's gotta what?!" I heard Dean's astonished tone.

"I have to what?!" I called to them, staring up at the ghost in terror.

"These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us, they're trying to communicate. You gotta face it. You have to listen to it." Sam shouted back.

"You face it!" I know it was childish, but staring up at the disfigured ghost and being told to listen to it just didn't appeal to me.

"No! It's the only way to get out of there!" Sam answered and I sighed and jerked away as the ghost came within a few feet, I sprang up and headed over to the to the door, I pulled a face as the ghost turned slowly and stared at me.

"No!" I told Sam uncertainly, the ghost moved towards me with slow, awkward, stumbling steps.

"Look at it, come on. You can do it!" I heard Sam and groaned, the ghost came nearer and nearer and I took deep breaths to calm myself, fighting the urges to at least hit the apparition. It leaned in close to my neck and I bit my lip as I heard it's dry lips opening.

After the ghost vanished, I stared at where it had been just a few seconds before, not noticing the lock click and the door creak slowly open. Suddenly I was being enveloped in a tight, suffocating hug, but I didn't raise my arms to react. "Oh, Steph, are you ok?" I heard Dean's relieved voice in my ear and I blinked, coming back to reality a little.

Sam had moved passed us to check the room, "137." I said in a dull, dull voice. Dean slowly unwrapped his arms around me, but he held onto my shoulders as he looked closely into my eyes.

"Sorry?" He frowned.

"137." I blinked at him, "That's what is whispered in my ear." Dean looked up at someone past my shoulder, Sam no doubt. "It's a room number." I said, before he could. Sam frowned at me and glanced at Dean, I could tell they were having one of their silent brother conversations and looked down at my hands; they were shaking.

"Is she ok?" Kat looked at the brother's in concern, I looked up from my hands, trying to stop them shaking as I nodded jerkily.

"Ok, Steph, can we talk to you for a moment?" Dean smiled softly and tugged at my arm, leading me away from where Kat and Gavin were stood, "Are you sure you're alright?" He asked once Kat and Gavin were out of earshot.

"Mmm-hmm." I nodded more easily this time.

"I think she's in shock." Sam looked at his brother, obviously unconvinced by my efforts.

"Guys, I'm fine, really. Just a little shaken, you know?" I shrugged it off, Sam stared at me for a long moment before he shrugged back.

"Ok, fine... So if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone..." The tallest Winchester trailed off.

"Then what are they trying to do?" Dean finished.

"137," I murmured again, rolling the words around my mouth, "Maybe that's what they've been trying to tell us." I suggested.

"I guess we'll find out." Dean shrugged.

"Sounds good." I managed a smile as we turned back to the teenagers.

Kat and Gavin looked up at us expectantly, "So, now, are you guys ready to leave this place?" Dean said.

"That's an understatement." Kat joked, looking up at the walls, expecting something else to jump out and attack.

"Ok," Dean turned to his brother, "You get them outta here, Steph and I are going to find room 137."

"Wait." I held my hands and stopped everyone, I walked over to Kat and held out my hand, "Jacket." I said simply.

"Oh." Kat mumbled and slipped it off, reluctantly handing it to me, I wasted no time in slipping it on and sighed as I slipped my arms through the sleeves, enjoying the feel of my much missed coat, "You know, that is a nice jacket-."

"I know." I interrupted her, behind me Dean cleared his throat.

"I just wanted to, you know, thank you for saving me back there, and, uh... where did you get that?" She asked, pointing to the jacket with want in her eyes.

"Oh, this old thing?" I said in a mocking tone as I looked down at the coat, but Kat didn't notice, "It's one of a kind, a friend made it for me before he died." I waked back over to Dean and we walked away, "Nice meeting you!" I called over my shoulder before we rounded the corner, leaving the three of them stood there, shocked.

Dean and I walked down the corridors in silence, I was relieved it was only Dean and I so I could have a flame dancing in my palm brilliantly. "So," Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, "What happened back there?"

"Huh? In the room?" I asked.

"No, no. Before that – Kat said you saved her." Dean responded.

I was quiet for a moment, "Well, the ghost had a hold on her arm so I got her out of the danger zone, I got caught off guard and dragged into that room." I explained plainly.

"Right, right," Dean nodded, "Did the ghost say anything else to you in that room?" He suddenly asked, the breath hitched in my throat and I halted to a sudden stop.

"No... just, just 137." I stuttered, suddenly aware of how cold I was.

Dean was silent for a moment.

"Ok." He nodded slowly. We resumed walking, counting the door numbers until we found the right one, Dean tried the handle but it was locked tight, he began to fumble in his pocket for his lock picks, I waited all but two seconds before I snapped my palms out. The air rippled and the door broke from it's lock with a satisfying crack, I expected it to swing round and collide with the wall, but instead it slammed into something hard and bounced back, closing shut again. I sighed and opened the door, pushing it open experimentally until I came into contact with a huge, dark filing cabinet, I lined my shoulder up and pushed my body weight, slowly the cabinet slid across the floor, allowing the door to open. I stood still for a second, stretching my arms out after pushing the cabinet, I shot a glance at Dean, "Thanks for the help, by the way." I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Anytime." Dean smirked in response and I scoffed, glancing around the room, noticing for the first time how messy it was: drawers and filing cabinets were pushed over, the papers strewn haphazardly everywhere, the desk was overturned and the chair was missing a leg, it was stacked precariously against the wall.

We had several minutes of searching the room, I was combing over the papers on the desk when Dean broke the silence, "This is why I get paid the big bucks." He said in a smug tone, I looked up to find he had loosened a panel on the wall and found a satchel full of papers.

"What's in it?" I asked, abandoning the desk and making my way over to the older Winchester, he prised open the satchel and gave a huge smile as he held up an old, leather journal.

"Jackpot." He smirked and jumped up on the filing cabinet, I followed suite and frowned as I read the journal over his shoulder, "Well, all work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy." He frowned, I smiled and opened my mouth to respond, but was cut off by a noise, causing us both to jump and look up quickly.

"I think," I said in a soft voice, "That we should go find Sam."

"Agreed." Dean replied, jumping off the cabinet, he held his hand out and I took it, and together we stepped out the office quickly and walked quickly down the corridor, following the route we took to get to the room to get back to Sam.

There were murmurs around the corner up ahead, we figured it was Sam listening to another voicemail from Jessica and stepped around it, "Shit!" Dean exclaimed suddenly, his arm wrapping around my waist and yanking me back as a shot fired, it hit the wall and dust rose from it in a musty smoke.

"What the fu-."

"Damn it, damn it, don't shoot! It's us!" Dean cut me off, calling towards Kat and Gavin, who were meant to have left ages ago.

"Sorry! Sorry." Kat squealed, I exhaled deeply and ran a hand through my long dark hair, slowly, Dean and I stood up and walked around the corner.

"Son of a..." Dean trailed off as he looked at the marks the shot had left on the wall, he brushed his hand over them and then turned to the shaking teenagers, "What are you still doing here?! Where's Sam?" He demanded, I frowned, suddenly noticing Sam's absence from the group.

"He went to the basement, you called him." Gavin answered Dean uneasily.

I frowned, "What? We didn't call anyone."

"His cell phone rang. He said it was you." Kat shrugged.

I glanced at Dean and tilted my head, "Basement, huh?" Dean nodded and grabbed the duffel he had left with his brother, zipping it open and pulling out several weapons, handing me a handgun as he did so, I checked the safety and slid it in the waistband of my trousers.

"Alright, watch yourselves, and watch out for us." Dean sighed and led me down the hall.

"Wait – where are you going?" Kat called to us.

"Where do you think? Downstairs." I answered back before we retreated around the corner. We passed through the South wing and made our way to the central part of the asylum, we found the basement stairs with the door ajar, a rusted chain was broken beside it, "Do you think Sam's down there?" I whispered.

"It's worth a try." Dean shrugged and went through the door, I glanced behind us before following him down the concrete steps, before we reached the bottom Dean switched a torch on and shone the beam around, clearing away the dark abyss the lay below us.

"Sam?" I called uncertainly into the gloom.

"Sammy? Sam, you down here? Sam? Sam!" Dean called out, straying away from me, I frowned and kept close to him, I searched the dark with him but sighed in defeat. We turned back and the tall figure of Sam stood there in front of us, Dean and I instinctively jumped, my hand went to my handgun and Dean raised his shotgun in defence. "Man, answer us when we're calling you!" Dean breathed.

"Are you ok?" I asked the younger brother, peering up at him closely.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Sam answered, but it seemed almost... robotic.

"You know it wasn't me who called your cell, right?" Dean spoke up.

"Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here." Sam nodded, glancing behind him.

"I think we know who: Dr. Ellicott. That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. You haven't seen him, have you Sam?" I asked.

"No." Sam shook his head, "How do you know it was him?"

"'Cause we found his log book. Apparently he was experimenting on his patients. Awful stuff – makes lobotomies look like a couple of aspirin." Dean explained with a shudder.

"But it was the patients who rioted." Sam frowned in confusion.

"Yeah. They were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Now, Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy." Dean explained.

"Yeah, he thought that if he could his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it, but instead it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier." I took over.

"Anyway, we're thinking that maybe his spirit is doing the same thing. You know; the cop, the kids in the seventies – making them so angry they become homicidal..." Dean trailed off and his eyes widened, "Come on, we gotta find his bones and torch them."

"How? The police never found his body." Sam frowned again.

"The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere where he'd work on his patients. So, if I was a patient I'd drag him down here and do a little work on him myself." I shrugged.

Sam pulled a face, "I don't know, it sounds kinda..."

"Crazy?" Dean answered.

"Yeah." Sam sent me a small smile.

I frowned and opened my mouth to reply, but Dean held up his hand, cutting me off, "Yeah. Exactly." He said, walking down the hallway, there was a door at the end of it. Dean opened it and peered inside, then he motioned for us to follow.

We entered the room and by the looks of it, it seemed like Dr Ellicott's office; there were desks and filing cabinets everywhere, filers and folders were in small, ramshackled piles on chairs. I clicked my fingers and conjured a flame, instantly a soft amber glow warmed the surroundings, "I told you, I looked everywhere. I didn't find a hidden room." Sam told us, Dean was by the wall, running his hand over the surface.

"Well, that's why they call it hidden..." He trailed off and held up his hand, Sam and I stayed silent watching him, "You hear that?" He asked.

I strained my ears and heard a soft whooshing sound, the unmistakeable sound of a draft, "What?" Sam frowned and I looked at him incredulously.

"You can't hear that?" I asked him, amazed.

Meanwhile Dean had crouched down and held his hand out not five centimetres away from the wall, "There's a door here." He announced, I stepped over and crouched beside him, the flame illuminated the distinct outline of a small door.

We suddenly heard a gun click and slowly turned, "Dean, Stephanie," Sam aimed a gun at us, a trickle of blood ran from his nose, "Step back from the door." He said.

Dean and I rose to our feet slowly, our hands out. "Sam," Dean said in a calm, calm voice, "Put the gun down."

"Is that an order?" Sam scoffed, I frowned at the gun and then at Sam.

"Nah, it's more of a friendly request." Dean managed a shaky smile.

"'Cause I'm getting pretty tired of your orders." Sam continued, ignoring Dean's previous comment.

"Sam," I fought to keep my voice from shaking, "Sam, what are you doing?"

The gun swivelled to me, "I know what I'm doing, Stephanie," He spat, "You need to stop babying me, both of you. Jessica died months ago, I'm fine about it – you need to move on."

"I knew it. Ellicott did something to you." Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother.

"For once in your life, just shut your mouth." Sam snapped, the gun moved from me to Dean.

"What are you gonna do, Sam? That gun's filled with rock salt. It can't kill us." Dean tilted his head at Sam.

Sam scoffed and shot at Dean point blank, he blasted backwards through the hidden door and sprawled in the secret room, "No. But it'll hurt like hell."

"Dean!" I called out to him, but he didn't get back up, when I turned back Sam had his gun trained on me, I slowly raised my hands and backed away. "Sam, let's just think about this." I tried.

"Shut up." Sam narrowed his eyes into slits, he stepped closer and I tilted my head, but didn't blink. He came closer and my hands shot out like snakes, attempting to knock the gun from his hands. The gun didn't release from his hold like I had planned, his iron grip stubbornly clung onto the weapon, Sam surprised me by aiming a punch which hit me squarely on the jaw – it was so hard I saw stars. I stumbled back dazedly, clutching my numbing jaw with my left hand, Sam looked at me intently and then he chuckled.

I narrowed my eyes, "What?"

"It's nothing, it's just – for someone who's apparently going to end the world, you're not exactly intimidating, are you?" Sam laughed, "I mean," I kept my gaze on him, my right hand slowly went for the handgun in the waistband of my trousers, "Look at you, you're a seventeen year old girl, for God's sake. It's not exactly imposing, is it?"

My hand found my gun and I whipped it out, at the same time Sam laughed and threw the shotgun down and grabbed something else, he surprised me by charging forward, I cried out as he slammed me against the wall, when I felt something cold against my neck I became silent. Above me, Sam chuckled darkly and slowly moved the hair behind my left ear, "God, Stephanie, did you think I was that stupid?" Sam's voice reached my ears, I didn't answer, I didn't even breathe. "I remember a while back you mentioned something about how special that jacket of yours was, something about it being armoured." I looked up at Sam unblinkingly, staring into his cute brown eyes – they didn't seem so cute now. "See, I was thinking: why don't we test it?" Suddenly, Sam punched my in the ribs, I winced at the harshness of the blow – if it weren't for this coat I was sure that Sam's hit would've resulted in a broken rib or two. Sam peered at my face and shrugged, "Huh, guess you were right." I opened my mouth to respond but he suddenly grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed it against the wall.

Once, twice, and another time before darkness overtook my vision.

Dean's P.O.V

I gasped into consciousness and found myself laying on hard, cold concrete, I blinked a few times as the memories suddenly came flooding back to me, "Sam!" I called out hoarsely, rubbing the back of my head as I did so. I struggled to my feet and turned to see Sam sat on a chair with one leg over the other, as if he was going for a job interview, not in the basement of a haunted asylum. On the floor in front of him was the limp form of Stephanie, her hair was covering half of her face and her eyes were shut, above her eye was a trickle of blood. I frowned at Sam and ran over to her and knelt down, grabbing her wrist and feeling for a pulse. I sighed when I felt the faint flutter of her heartbeat and stood slowly, facing Sam.

Although, it wasn't Sam.

"We have to burn Ellicott's bones and then all this will be over, you'll be back to normal and we can get Steph to a hospital." I told him.

"I am normal," Sam shrugged and gave a smile, "I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are you even here? 'Cause you're following Dad's orders like a good little soldier? Because you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?" His smile widened and my frown deepened.

"This isn't you talking, Sam." I urged him.

"That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own – hell, even Stephanie's more independent than you are, when she's not hanging onto your every word, of course..." Sam trailed off and crouched down next to the girl, my jaw tightened when he reached out and brushed the hair from her face carefully, "I guess she's not as pathetic as you are."

"So what are you gonna do, huh?" I glared, trying to keep the fear of him hurting Stephanie from my voice, "Are you gonna kill me? Take Steph?"

"You know what?" Sam sighed heavily and straightened up, I relaxed a little as he stepped over Steph and closer to me, "I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago."

"Well, then here. Let me make it easier for you," I reached down and pulled my Smith and Wesson from my pocket and handed it to Sam, "Come on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt." Sam stared at the pistol in my hand and then searched my face, I thought he'd take one look and then I'd give it away, but his expression didn't change, "Take it!" I urged. He didn't need another word, he snatched up the gun and thumbed the safety, aiming it straight at my face. "You hate me that much?" My voice cracked, "You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger. Do it!" I shouted, my voice echoed around the room. I closed my eyes and waited for the click, but it didn't come. There was a noise and I snapped open my eyes to see Steph holding a struggling Sam in a strong headlock, her face was calm and her eyes were dark, darker than I'd ever seen them. After Sam dropped, Stephanie crouched down and I swear I heard her say something to him before she snatched up my gun, when she stood back up and faced me, her eyes were lighter. I stared at her as she glanced down at the gun and then froze, "Steph?" I asked cautiously, slowly taking the gun from her suddenly weak grip.

"What – what happened?" She asked in a quiet voice.

"You were out cold, then I you came to and shut down Sam." I shrugged, then I reached over to her and felt for the wound that had bled on her head.

She saw my confused frown, "What are you looking for?" She asked.

"I think Sam hit you in the head, you have blood on your head. But I can't find the head wound." I explained, dropping my hand in a baffled defeat.

"It doesn't matter. We need to burn the doctor's corpse and save Sam." She shook her head and walked past me, I stared at the back of her for a moment before shrugging and following as she began to look for the corpse. She opened all the cupboards and the last one revealed a mummified corpse of the doctor, accompanied with a strong, stomach-churning stench, we both flinched away and stood back from the corpse.

"Oh, that's just gross." I coughed, Stephanie nodded beside me and stepped out the room, "Where are you going?" I called after her.

"You dropped your duffel in the next room, unless you have salt and kerosene in your pockets." The pretty dark haired girl shot me that small smile I loved so much over her shoulder.

"Oh." I murmured in response, glancing back down at the body in disgust as I waited for Stephanie to return with the stuff.

Not two minutes later I was pouring salt over the repulsive body, "Soak it up." I muttered under my breath as Steph proceeded to saturate the body with the petrol. I smiled and wrapped my arm over her shoulders when she threw the empty can away, she clicked her fingers and I watched in awe as a spark flashed and grew into a bright, dancing flame. Before she could set the body alight a gurney came flying towards us and knocked us both to the ground, sending us sprawling to the floor. I blinked away the haze to see Steph struggle against the grip of the mangled, ruined, animated corpse of Dr. Ellicott, she cried out as the psycho grabbed her face, his hands lit up in a brilliant electric blue.

The light intensified and Stephanie's piercing scream got louder, "Dean," She managed, "Finish th-."

"Don't worry," Ellicott cut her off, "I'm going to help you. I'm going to make you all better – even get rid of the darkness in your head." The doctor told her in a creepily soothing tone, Stephanie thrashed under his grip, her screams echoed around the small room. I reached into my pocket and my fingers closed around my lighter, I pulled it out and flicked off the lid, lighting it and throwing it onto Ellicott's corpse. The body was instantly enveloped in a great orange flame and his ghost darkened, his grey face cracked and his eyes darkened into hollow, empty sockets, the figure let go of Stephanie and fell to the floor, crumbling on impact.

"Steph!" I called, running over to her as she collapsed onto the floor, I moved the hair from her face and shook her gently, but she didn't wake up. I fumbled with her wrist and checked her pulse, it was still there.

"Dean?" A confused voice from the doorway prompted me to look up, Sam was stood in the doorway rubbing his head, he stared down at where I was knelt next to Steph in amazement.

"You're not going to try and kill me, are ya?" I asked.

"No." Sam answered in a dull voice.

"Good. Because that would be awkward." I faked a shudder and got to my feet, stooping and scooping up Stephanie in my arms.

"Is she ok?" Sam asked, glancing at the girl's unconscious form in concern.

"I'm sure she's fine, probably just needs to sleep it off." I lied, trying to brush it off.

We left Steph in the back of the car as we said our goodbyes to Kat and Gavin, I'm sure she wouldn't care much if she missed out on it. "Are you sure she's gonna be alright?" Kat asked me, glancing at Stephanie in the back seat.

"Yep." I answered in a monotone voice.

"Ok... Well, thanks guys." Kat shot Sam and I shy smiles.

"Yeah. Thanks." Gavin added.

"No more haunted asylums, ok?" Sam gave them a stern look and I rolled my eyes: no more asylums? Probably no more scary movies for either of them. The teenagers nodded and walked away without another word, Sam and I turned and got into the car in silence, I stared at the steering wheel for a moment. "Hey, Dean?" Sam asked in a soft voice, I turned and looked at him as the early morning sunlight started to shine weakly through the trees. "I'm sorry, man. I said some awful things back there."

"You remember all that?" I asked him in surprise.

"Yeah, it's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it, any of it." Sam responded, not catching my eye.

"You didn't, huh?" I couldn't help but scoff: it had all sounded like he'd meant it all to me, every word.

"No, of course not! Do we need to talk about this?" Sam protested.

"No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep." I sighed, suddenly feeling drained as I turned the keys in the ignition, the roar the car made as it came to life bought a smile to my lips as we smoothly pulled away from the asylum.

"Speaking of sharing and caring," Sam turned to check if Stephanie was still out of it, "When Steph took me out earlier, she said something really weird to me..."

"Oh yeah? What she say?" I asked Sam, suddenly intrigued.

"She said something like... well, her exact words were: 'Rule number one, when you have the chance to kill me, do it properly. Don't leave me on the floor with the job half-finished.'." Sam murmured, hoping he wouldn't wake Stephanie.

I kept my eyes on the road, "Huh, I wonder what she meant."

"It was weird, man. The way she said it... it was like she was a completely different person." Sam replied.

Completely different person... like the way she had looked strangely calm and uncaring as she dispatched Sam so easily. Credit's where it's due, but Sam is a challenge: he's a huge opponent to take out single-handedly. "You know that's funny, the way she looked right after she had knocked you out cold: she was so cool and unaffected by it, Sam. And the way she did it, like it was the easiest thing in the world for her." I muttered to my brother in a soft voice, glancing up in the rear-view mirror to check Stephanie was still asleep. Sure enough, her eyes were shut and she looked so content and at ease.

"Really?" Sam was shocked.

"Yeah, and about two seconds later she was stood there with no idea what had just happened, like she'd just woken up from something." I continued, shooting Sam a worried glance.

"Do you reckon she was just disorientated? I mean, I had just rammed her head into the wall three times." Sam reasoned.

I shook my head in disagreement, "No, you should've seen it, Sam, it's like she had no recollection of what she'd just done. And when that freakshow of a doctor had his hands on her he was saying he was going to get rid of the darkness in her head."

"Do you know what he was talking about?" Sam asked.

"No clue, man." I shook my head and scoffed.

"We'll worry about it later, let's just get Steph onto a proper bed. Then we can all catch up on all the sleep we missed last night." Sam suggested, I nodded and stayed quiet for the rest of the journey.

Valkyrie's P.O.V

I woke up to the sound of the car roaring to life, but I kept my eyes shut, my eyelids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each and my body was stiff and tired, a headache flared across my forehead painfully, "Speaking of sharing and caring," Sam broke through the silence, "When Steph took me out earlier, she said something really weird to me..." Sam trailed off and my interest was piqued: I had said something to Sam earlier? - I wasn't even aware I'd taken him out.

"Oh yeah? What she say?" Came Dean's voice, I decided to keep my eyes shut and pretend to be asleep, just to see how their conversation panned out.

"She said something like... well, her exact words were: 'Rule number one, when you have the chance to kill me, do it properly. Don't leave me on the floor with the job half-finished.'." Sam struggled to explain, his answer was in a quiet voice in an attempt to be quiet enough so I wouldn't be able to hear. His attempt failed. My mind was whirling: I didn't remember saying anything like that to Sam, but I knew who it sounded like: it sounded just like...

"Huh, I wonder what she meant." Dean muttered a reply.

"It was weird, man. The way she said it... it was like she was a completely different person." Sam continued in a low voice, my insides went cold on completely different person.

Dean was quiet for a moment, I wished I knew what he was thinking at that moment, "You know that's funny, the way she looked right after she had knocked you out cold: she was so cool and unaffected by it, Sam. And the way she did it, like it was the easiest thing in the world for her." He finally replied in a quiet tone. I fought to keep my expression as unaware as possible, but really my adrenaline was pumping: they were talking about me, but it wasn't me, not really...

"Really?" Sam sounded shocked.

"Yeah, and about two seconds later she was stood there with no idea what had just happened, like she'd just woken up from something." Dean pressed.

I could practically taste Sam's attempt at nonchalance, "Do you reckon she was just disorientated? I mean, I had just rammed her head into the wall three times."

"No, you should've seen it, Sam, it's like she had no recollection of what she'd just done. And when that freakshow of a doctor had his hands on her he was saying he was going to get rid of the darkness in her head." Dean disagreed, I shuddered inwardly: I remembered the doctor placing his all-too-cold hands on the sides of my head, the piercing needles and spikes shot across my mind in a bright blue light, I knew what he was trying to find, he didn't want to get rid of the 'darkness', he wanted to bring it out and unleash it.

"Do you know what he was talking about?" Came Sam's confused tone.

"No clue, man." Dean sounded defeated, and then he scoffed, I didn't need to open my eyes to know he was shaking his head.

"We'll worry about it later, let's just get Steph onto a proper bed. Then we can all catch up on all the sleep we missed last night." Sam responded, I waited for Dean's reply, but it never came.

I had tried to get back to sleep, I really had. But the headache that had come in the car still hadn't faded, and it toyed with me mercilessly, never allowing me to slip into the appealing unconsciousness of sleep. I layed in a bed beside Dean, from his breathing rate I could tell he was fast asleep, but I knew Sam was still awake. I think Sam knew I was awake too, but he made no efforts to communicate with me, so I didn't either, I think he understood that we both needed to mull over our thoughts in the quiet. The silence was broken by the loud ringing of a phone, my eyes snapped open and I sat up, blinking at the sudden bright motel light and glancing at the phone, it was Dean's, I looked at the older Winchester and waited for him to awaken and answer the phone, but he showed no signs of doing such a thing. I glanced at Sam and he frowned and reached for the phone, confusion crossed his features as he read the number and answered it, "Hello." He greeted in a bored tone, I watched as he listened, frowning when Sam shot up from his bed, "Dad?" Sam whispered.

Author's Note: I'm sorry I was late in updating again! My final year of school is really taxing on me and I've found it hard to find the time to finish this chapter. I also had trouble writing the middle part of the chapter, so please tell me if there are any faults! Ok, I'm going to upload chapter 11 when I have 70 reviews, so if you want this story to continue please comment below!