Chapter 3:

Dean continued searching the second story, completely oblivious to what was happening downstairs. The place was huge. He felt like he had been walking down the hallway for hours now. Every room he checked proved to be no help. There were only a few broken windows, but each one he looked out didn't look too promising. The thought of jumping was suddenly being pushed to the back burner. Sam was right, it was a long way down, and neither one of them could do it without injury. "This sucks!" Dean screamed to no one. He picked up a vase on one of the dressers and threw it across the room, shattering the silence with the sound of breaking glass. He admitted, reluctantly, that it didn't do anything to help the situation, but he sure felt better.

Dean decided that the upper stories held no hope so he decided to make his way back downstairs to see if Sam had fared any better. He hadn't heard from his brother in a while. But he wasn't surprised. Sam could hold a grudge just as good as he could. Dean had to let a small smile cross his lips. He loved nothing more than aggravating the kid. It was just too damn easy. His little brother was wound so tight he was in danger of snapping any minute. Dean felt it his duty to bring some levity to their lives. How could he not? Their lives sucked so bad most normal people would have committed suicide by now. But once again that thought only reminded him of how much of a freak he really was. Then he felt bad again, because as much as he wanted Sam around, he didn't want his little brother to become a freak too. Too late, stupid, he thought.

"Time to see what the other little freak's up to." Dean said aloud. "Sammy!" He called as he started making his way down the stairs. He was halfway to the bottom when he heard the whisper behind him, calling to him. The old saying 'curiosity killed the cat' crossed his mind, but he pushed it aside and headed back up.

Meanwhile, Sam cracked his eyes open as consiouness slowly made it's way back. He found himself lying on a cold concrete floor. His head hurt like hell, but after a quick check of himself he found no other injuries. Cautiously he made his way up a wall to stand, finding that his legs would hold. He was dizzy, but it wasn't overwhelming. The room was pitch black but he just had a feeling it was very big. Slowly he made his way down the wall his hands searching for a light switch or the door. Then he laughed to himself, a light switch? No electricity stupid. He found a door, though he had no idea if it was the one he came through. He tried to turn the handle but it wouldn't budge. He was locked in. He thought for a moment about calling for Dean but thought again. First of all, his brother was probably still upstairs, and secondly, he was sure Dean was still pissed at him. Actually, he was still pissed at Dean. And he sure as hell wasn't about to 'need' his big brother again. He could handle himself. He would prove it.

Just as he was about to lift his foot back and give the door a swift kick a soft light began to shimmer in the room. He spun around, taking in what he saw. He was in a large pantry. One wall was covered in shelves, the others were empty and there was the one door. The one he came through and the one that was now locked. As he continued to stare the glow began to take on a form. Probably what was supposed to be a human form, but more fuzzy. But as it took shape, and took a face, it spoke.
"You are trespassing." It stated. "This is my home."

"Technically, not anymore. You're dead."

"This home is still mine, and my rules will still be followed."

"What rules would those be?" Sam asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"To obey. To admit your wrong doings and to ask for forgiveness."

Sam swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice even and calm, "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Trespassing is illegal."

"So is murder." He snapped. Shit, where did that come from? Not smart to piss off a ghost, he thought.

The fuzzy face flashed a smile. "Anger is not good for the soul young man. You must release it and seek forgiveness. I can help you release your anger and help you find forgiveness, help you start down the right path."

"Well Mr. Wells," because that's who Sam assumed that's who he was speaking to, "I'm not angry and I don't think I need your help."

"But you are angry. So is your brother. Both of you have so much anger and hatred for young men. I will help you release that and be free."

Sam was silent for a moment, letting what the ghost said sink in. Then it hit him, "Release our anger? Is that what's going on? You're the one making us mad?"

"Not mad. I'm helping you release your inner feelings so you can move on and be free. Just as I did for my children and the others I helped."

Knowing how well that had turned out Sam was even more anxious to get out of the house. No wonder him and Dean were hating each other right now. They always annoyed each other, but Sam had begun to feel genuine hatred for his brother earlier and couldn't understand it. Now he did. This guy really was a freak. And suddenly he was reminded of the Asylum and Dr. Ellicott. Oh shit. That had turned out way bad. He couldn't handle the thought of something turning him against Dean. Again.

His mind began to whirl with something to try to get them out of this. His eyes scanned the floor, but there was no sign of his gun. Obviously it was left on the other side of the door. He had his knife on him, but what good would that do? The only thing was left was trying to reason with it. Yeah right you fool, he thought. But what else was there to do?
"Look, Mr. Wells," He was trying to polite. This was ridiculous. "I'm sorry we trespassed. If you...uh.. just let us go, we promise not to do it again. We really are sorry."

Mr. Wells laughed, "Sorry? Trespassing is not your only crime boy. You have committed many crimes and many sins." It paused. "But you, I will deal with later. Your brother is first on my list."

Sam's eyes widened. "Leave my brother alone!"

Mr. Wells smiled, "I don't think I've ever met anyone who needs to be taught a lesson as much as that boy. He really is a bad seed." He laughed. "He will be the first one I have tried to lead the right way who is so far down the wrong path he may be too lost. But we will find out." With that his form flickered and then disappeared, leaving Sam in the dark once again.

"No!" Sam screamed. "Dean! Dean he's coming!" "Dean!"

Dean had reached the top of the stairs once again. The whispering was louder now, but he still couldn't pin point it. He stood perfectly still, his well trained ears and eyes searching for the source. Suddenly right in front of him a soft light flickered. He backed up, but only a few steps, and raised his shotgun. He ready for whatever was about to happen. But instead of being faced with the angry spirit of the old man, a small shape began to form. It was a little girl. Dean breathed a small sigh of relief. He had faced spirits of children before, and usually they were harmless. But he still kept his gun aimed, just in case. Finally, after a few moments that small girl's form took full shape. She stared at Dean, actually her eyes were trained on the gun. She finally lifted them up to meet Dean's and a small smile formed across her lips.

"I won't hurt you." Her small voice stated, echoing throughout the hallway. "I know you are here to help. We need help."

"How do you know I am here to help, and who is we?" Dean asked.

"My brothers and sisters. They said you were here to help us go free. We are stuck here." She shook her head slightly. "I don't understand. But my brother says Daddy won't let us go, and we aren't supposed to be here anymore." She cast her eyes down and a sad expression formed on her face, "Daddy says we're bad and we have to learn our lesson. Will you help us?"

She may have been a ghost, but she was still just a little girl. A little girl trapped by her demented father. Dean felt a pain of sadness for her. "Yeah. I'll help you kid. Do you know where Daddy is?"

She nodded. "He's coming for you."

"Excuse me?"
The little girl took a step closer and Dean took a step back. "He's going to punish you and your brother for being bad."

"What did you say? What about my brother? Where is he!" Dean demanded, anger making his voice thick.

The little girl took a step back, looking a little scared. "He locked your brother downstairs in the pantry. But he's coming up here first. He says you are bad boys. Are you?"

Dean didn't have time to answer. He took off running down the stairs to find his brother, his mind trying to wrap around what she had just told him. Punish us? Yeah right. Over my dead body, he thought. He reached the kitchen and yelled. "Sammy! Where are you! Sammy!"

"In here!" Came the voice of his brother. "The door won't open."

Dean ran to the sound of his brother's voice and found the door to the pantry. He tried to pull it open but it wouldn't budge. "Sammy! Stand back, I'm gonna blow off the knob!"

"I'm ready!" Sam replied.

Dean aimed and fired, blowing the kob away and opening a hole in the door. With a swift and well aimed kicked the door swung full open. He grabbed Sam, yanking him out of the small room. "You okay?" He asked, his eyes scanning for any injuries.

Sam shook his head, "Just a headache."

Dean forced him to turn around while he examined the back of his head. "No blood."

Sam pushed away, "Like I said Dean, just a headache. I'm fine."

Dean snorted, "Yeah, you're lucky."

"And what's that supposed to mean!" Sam said taking a step closer to Dean.

"It means, you're lucky you aren't dead stupid! What the hell kind of plan is that, huh! Getting yourself knocked out and locked in a room. There is a homicidal ghost on the loose Sammy! What if I wouldn't have found you!"

Sam clenched his jaw and his hands went into fists. "What, you think I can't take care of myself! I got news for you big brother. I'm not a baby any more. I'm perfectly capable of doing something on my own! Not to mention the fact that the homicidal ghost was already in here with me and I'm fine! You on the other hand, is his next target!"

Dean paused a moment, taking a step closer to Sam, anger flashing in his eyes. "You want to take care of yourself, Sam" He made sure not to say Sammy. "Then go ahead. Next time don't expect me to save your ass when you get yourself locked in a room." Sam was about to say something but Dean cut him off, "As for me." Dean stepped back and made a small circle raising his voice, "Come and get me bitch! I'm ready!"

"Dean! What the hell are you doing!"

"What Sam. You said it was after me! Well here I am!" He yelled and cocked his shotgun. "Come and get me!"

Sam grabbed Dean's arm forcing him to face him, "Stop it! You don't know what you're doing Dean. You don't even know what's going on! "

"I know enough Sam." Dean said jerking his arm out of his little brother's grasp.

"Dean, this guy was a real nut case. He likes torture and punishment. " Sam took a step back and a deep breath. He needed to calm down. The situation was getting out of control, and so was their anger at each other. But now he knew why, and he needed to control it. And he needed Dean to let him explain it before he got them both killed. "Dean, please, please stop for just a minute. I need to explain it to you."

"Sam, I know all I need to know all right."

"Oh yeah Dean. Why don't you tell me than, huh? You seem to have all the answers. Always the big shot know it all, do it all Dean." He threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "Tell me, what's going on, how are we getting out of here, and how are we going to stop it?"

Dean didn't speak for a moment, just glared at his brother. He was trying extremely hard to fight the urge to smack him upside the head. Sam's only saving grace was that Dean didn't really want to add any more injuries to his brother's head. But oh that kid was grating on his last nerve. Taking a deep breath he turned suddenly and walked away from Sam. Something was happening. He could feel it. Dean had no misconceptions about himself. He knew he was an ass sometimes, and he knew he aggravated his kid brother, but he was beyond angry right now. He was boiling over with anger and a desire to hit something. He didn't understand what was happening and he didn't want that something to hit to be Sam, so he walked away. Out to the living room, wishing that Sam wouldn't follow. But of course, that wasn't about to happen.

"Dean." Sam called. He recognized the move. Dean was putting space between them before he blew. Sam could see the confusion in his brother's eyes. Sam knew what was happening, why their emotions were so amplified. He just had to make Dean understand. And quick, before Mr. Wells decided to make good on his threat. "Dean, please stop...I'm sorry." Sam apologized, hoping it would break through to his brother.

"Sam just get away from me. You said you can take care of yourself, then do it."

"Dean, I didn't mean it like that and you know it! Please just listen!"
Dean spun around to face Sam, "Sam I..."

He never finished the sentence. Suddenly there was a blinding light and a flood of cold air rushed through the room. Mr. Wells appeared by their side. "Lesson number one 1 boys." He said.

Dean spun to raise his gun and fire, but before he had a chance both boys were lifted off their feet and sent flying in opposite directions of the room.

–TBC–

Okay everyone, thanks so much for the reviews! I really really appreciate them! I'll probably have quite a few more chapters up this weekend. I already have them done, so I want to get the posted and move on to new ones! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!