Curtain Call

By, december.morning

Disclaimer: OMG! I OWN THEM…no, I don't. But wouldn't that be nice?

Summary: His foot on the final step, he turned to face her and gave her another eerie, fake-smile, and whispered, "This is my scene."

Last time in Curtain Call: Sam found what he thinks is a hollow spot in the playhouse wall, and Dean finds what he describes as a "Jackpot" under the stage.

.xxx.

August 18th, 2003—inside the playhouse

"What'd you find?" Sam asked, hurrying from the wall to his brother, who was flat on his stomach, his body halfway under the stage. From his strange position, Dean waved an arm at Sam, and yelled what was either "Cream cheese!" or "C'mere!" Assuming it was the latter, Sam got down on the floor and wiggled and thrashed his way under the stage, until he was even with Dean.

"Check it out. Looks Ghost Boy had another hobby 'sides acting."

Under the stage, there was a platform, on which Dean and Sam lay. But the platform changed seamlessly into a set of steep stairs, which led down into a dark, dungeon-esque room, the walls of which were covered with wicked looking knives and other unpleasant instruments. An Iron Maiden was propped up in the corner, its door slightly open, and there was a nice selection of syringes arranged on a wooden table in another corner. But the unmistakable center piece of the sadistic room was a huge stockpot, large enough to fit, say, Dean, if he were to crouch into a ball. A section of the floor was hollowed into an indent, in which firewood was arranged, and the pot itself hung from a groaning metal rod.

"Hey, I saw one of those in the Amityville Horror…" Dean muttered, pointing at the Iron Maiden. "You should've seen his back, it was all cut open…"

"Dean! Focus. This isn't a movie, it's an actual torture chamber!" Sam said angrily, wriggling his body into a position so that he could slide and bump his way down the stairs.

"There—has—to—be—a—better—way!" Dean grumbled, his voice punctuated by grunts as he followed Sam. "Oof!" He fell hard on the bottom of the stairs, and stood gingerly, his eyes narrowed as he peered around the chamber.

"This looks familiar…" Sam said quietly, pacing around the room. Newspaper articles fluttered on the walls, blown by an unseen wind; one in particular drew his attention. The headline was, Another Chef Victim Found.

"I think we might have found the kitchen of The Chef," he said decisively, leaning close to the article.

"The Chef? What the hell kind of a name is that?"

"He was a serial killer back in the 70's, Dean, they called him The Chef because he boiled his victims' bones in a stockpot. Exhibit A," he said, waving his hand at the stockpot. "It all fits. Knives, needles, cooking pot, news articles…"

"How'd he do it?" Dean asked with a sort of morbid interest, looking up at Sam from where he leaned by the Iron Maiden.

"Papers said he injected his victims with some sort of medicine that made pain sharper, hence the needles. Then he'd literally carve them like a Thanksgiving Turkey, do God-knows-what with the flesh, and boil away whatever he couldn't cut off in that big pot over there. Nice, huh?"

Dean pushed himself off of the wall, looking a bit green. "Yeah, lovely. But why here?"

"Well, a nice, popular community theater is the last place you'd think would be the site of horrible, gruesome killings, right? Hiding in the open. Classic killer," Sam answered distractedly, walking slowly along the wall. "Hey, check out this article. It's weird—it doesn't fit the pattern."

"What is it?" Dean asked unnecessarily, as he picked his way across the bone-strewn floor. Coming in next to Sam, he came face to face with a yellowing article, the headline of which read: Bucks County Playhouse Production of 'The Phantom of the Opera' A Fabulous Flop.

"What a mouthful."

"Just read it, Dean!"

Last night, Director Joseph Bates finally unveiled his production of 'The Phantom of the Opera', a big budget play the company had been rehearsing since mid-January. Sadly, it seemed that none of the rehearsals did any good. The play flopped magnificently, with Raul (Antoine Tentilucci) forgetting half of his entrances, Christine (Melina Davidson) singing off key for most of the second act, and the majority of the other actors making uncorrectable mistakes. Just before the closing number, 'Masquerade', Bates was seen storming from the playhouse.

"Melina Davidson. Wasn't that chick in the other article named Clarice Davidson or whatever?"

"Clarissa Davidson, yeah. Think there's a connection?" Sam asked, but before he even finished the sentence, Dean ripped the article off of the wall and began climbing up the stairs again.

"C'mon, Sammy, we're paying the Green Oaks Insane Asylum a visit."

.xxx.

August 18th, 2003—Green Oaks Insane Asylum

Less than an hour later, Dean maneuvered the Impala into a too-small parking spot, his tongue between his teeth in concentration: this was the only available spot, and it was flanked by an SUV on the left and a minivan on the right.

"Dean. Come on, you're driving like someone's Grandma!"

"Don't wanna scratch my baby…" Dean muttered, pushing down gently on the accelerator. Finally, the car glided into the parking spot, straight as a whistle, and without a scratch on it. Dean smiled triumphantly and opened the door as far as it would go, and wriggled and thrashed his way out of the car. Sam would have laughed if he wouldn't have had to done the same thing, except in an even more confined space.

"Next time, pick a spot bigger than four feet square, okay?"

"Why? Car's fine."

"You're missing the point, Dean! Now act normal, that nurse is staring at you."

Dean peered around the sterile, bright waiting room, until he spotted a petite, brunette nurse, who's eyes were fixed upon him. Mainly, upon his ass. He coughed slightly to let her know he knew she was watching him, and the nurse looked up, and smiled slowly. Dean smiled back, the patented Dean Winchester grin that most females found irresistible. Meanwhile, Sam rolled his eyes, grabbed Dean's arm, and bodily dragged him up to the check-in desk, where an older, less attractive nurse was glaring at them with hostile, steel grey eyes.

"You boys looking to check in?" She asked, giving them the once-over. Granted, they didn't have a distinctive air of insanity, but you never knew. The apparently older one was being literally dragged around, and he was clutching an old newspaper article with a somewhat obsessive air. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer, as they both gaped at her. After several awkward seconds, the younger one regained his senses.

"Uh, no. No, we we're looking to visit a patient. A Clarissa Davidson? Admitted two years ago?" Sam said earnestly, then smiled at her. "It's important…Nancy," he added, reading her nametag.

"I'm not Nancy. I borrowed this."

"Oh. Well, sorry, miss…"

"Sammy, cut to the chase. We need to see Clarissa Davidson. Now," Dean said forcefully, wrenching his arm from Sam's death grip.

"Do you want me to bring a doctor? We have an excellent staff," she drawled, evidently enjoying being difficult.

"Clarissa Davidson!"

The woman smirked as Dean's yell attracted the attention of the other people in the waiting room: patients milling around in white gowns, visitors, and nurses, including the small brunette who had found Dean so appealing.

"Room 526, Rosemary Ward. Enjoy your stay."

After fixing her with a final glare, Dean stalked down the hall, following the signs leading to the Rosemary Ward. Sam hurried after him, and they walked in silence, Dean irritated, Sam pensive, until Dean stopped walking and grabbed Sam's arm urgently.

"Do I really look like I could be in an insane asylum?"

.xxx.

I like this chapter! I'm proud of it…how'd you guys like it? Let me know by clicking that pretty little button!

Anyway, in the next chapter, we meet Clarissa, and light is shed upon the murder of James. Also, the connection between the theater and The Chef will be discussed.

Cookies to anyone who can figure out how Joseph Bates and 'Masquerade' factors into the story!

Review answers:

jj2629: Thanks! I hope this is soon enough for you!

Ghostwriter: I like your screen name! Is it from the old show Ghostwriter, or just random? Anyway, thanks for the review! I appreciate them!

Novthoniel: Thanks so much! Glad to have you aboard! I'm glad you think I'm doing well with Dean—he's hard, but fun, to write! By the way, I really love your story, 'Without a Heart'. It's a creative plotline, and I can't wait to see more!