Disclaimer: I still claim no affiliation to Supernatural, its characters or anything else.

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James watched the two men return. His attempt at deterring their interest in The Sapphire Room had failed miserably and he was well aware of it. Even before he had left the boys the previous night he knew that his words had fallen on deaf ears. Now as he watched them get out of their vehicle he couldn't help but feel a pang of remorse at not having warned them more effectively.

The shorter of the two, the one he hadn't been formally introduced to, was nursing a healthy looking cut on the side of his face. The cut was superficial and probably would require only a cleaning but the fact that it was preventable infuriated James. He could have prevented it. The shorter one was grumbling to himself as he hurried towards the motel room.

"That's one hell of a shiner you got there, youngblood." Dean froze and looked at the old man. James wasn't even looking at Dean and if he hadn't known any better Dean would have questioned his own hearing. A solemn glance in Dean's direction validated that the question had come from the old man and was indeed directed towards Dean.

"What can I say?" Dean shrugged, "I make friends almost as easily as my brother here." Dean had no patience to be interrogated by a man who hadn't uttered so much as a decent word to him since their arrival. Dean reached for the doorknob but James wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily.

"Bernie Fontaine one of those friends?" James inquired, his eyes still staring nonchalantly into the distance.

At the sound of the name Sam, who had been cautiously packing weapons into a bag at the trunk of the Impala stopped his actions and moved towards the old man. Dean stood with his hand hovering above the doorknob, his eyes also trained on James, who still showed no interest in the statement he had just made or the amount of attention it had earned him.

"Did you say Bernie Fontaine?" Sam asked as he moved and stood next to James, his tall stature casting a shadow over the old man.

"That's who gave your brother that wound, isn't it?"

Sam looked back at Dean who had inched closer and was now standing just behind him. He turned his attention back to the James, "So you did know more than you were telling us last night?"

James sighed and nodded half heartedly. "I was trying to protect you. There's no need for you boys to be lurking around in things you know nothing about."

Dean had the distinct desire to yell at the man. Tell him that they knew more about these types of things that James could possibly imagine. Give him 'The Truth is out There' speech. Scare the living hell out of him with stories of all the horrible things that they had encountered, things that had nearly killed, maimed or dismembered them.

Either that or laugh hysterically.

Instead he chose to take the road less traveled. He chose to use as much pleasantness and sincerity as he could muster at the given moment. "No offense, but we don't need your protection." Dean could see Sam shooting him a stern look that cried 'Dean, shut up' but Dean knew this man had information pertaining to The Sapphire Room that was itching to get out and Dean was just the one to scratch that itch. "We need information." He continued, "Now, I know you know something about The Sapphire Room and if you really wanna help us, tell us what you know because we're not leaving here until you do."

James' shoulders straightened up as though his muscles had suddenly tensed. He turned in his chair and looked at the brothers. His eyes tracing over both boys features before his gazed dropped to his folded hands.

"When I was a little bit younger than the two of you," James began, "I had a fiancé. Her name was Maryann. The most beautiful girl you've ever laid eyes on. Voice like an angel." James suddenly stopped and smiled as if the memories of the girl had suddenly come rushing back to him. "You know," He looked at Dean and Sam, the smile still curved onto his face, "they used to say she could be the next Billie Holiday. Imagine that. Me, married to the next Billie Holiday." James stopped talking and the smile slowly faded.

"What happened to her?" Sam asked, hoping it was related to The Sapphire Room and not just an opportunity for the James to reminisce about his past to his captive audience.

"She was a singer at The Sapphire Room." Dean and Sam exchanged looks. "The night of the fire, she was there singing." James shook his head. His eyes had begun to water but he was holding himself together pretty well. "Bernie, the owner, he trusted her. In that day it was a strange thing for a white man to confide in a black woman but he did. He told her how he liked to gamble and he had taken out a loan with Lucky Montgomery and had used the club as collateral."

"Lucky Montgomery?" Dean asked, "Isn't that the guy who bought the club after the fire and ended up getting killed there?"

James nodded, "Nobody was too upset about his murder though. Probably the reason why the police didn't investigate too thoroughly. Lucky wasn't really a likable man. Anyway, Bernie told Maryann that he'd rather die then give up his club." James paused. "I wish I would have taken his statement more seriously when she told me. I didn't think he'd actually-"

James dropped his head to his hands. "I didn't-" His voice caught in his throat, "think he'd kill all those people. Kill my Maryann." The tears had begun to spill freely now and Sam wanted to continue to question the man but he knew how hard it was to accept Jessica's death and felt that prying now may cause James to clam up even more.

Dean on the other hand was determined to question the man. He lowered his voice and leaned in towards the man placing his hand on James' shoulder. Even though Sam knew that Dean was intent on asking some more question he was aware that Dean was also trying to comfort James as much as possible without giving up on the conversation.

"You think Bernie set the fire?" Dean asked.

James wiped away some of the tears. "Not directly," he sniffled. "Maryann said she heard him on the phone, talking to a woman named Catherine St. Croix. She said that it sounded like they were planning something and when Bernie caught her listening he threatened her. He slammed her against the wall and told her that if she told anybody, he'd kill her. When she told me, I wanted to kill him but she begged me not to. She said he wasn't serious and that he was just afraid of Lucky. A week later, the fire happened."

James shook his head, "What I still don't understand it," he looked at Dean and Sam with a look of utter confusion, "they never found any bodies. The police said the bodies were incinerated but how can a fire incinerate all those bodies but leave the structure of the building still in tact. Is that possible?"

Dean and Sam exchanged looks again. "I dunno." Sam shrugged, "But, do you know if this woman, Catherine St. Croix, is still living in Philly?"

"Son, that was over 50 years ago. I'm sure she's passed since then. But, I believe her daughter still lives in the area. Her name's Annabelle Livingston. She's probably in the phone book."

Dean nodded, "Thanks." He gave James' shoulder a squeeze and headed for the motel room.

"James," Sam paused, "I'm sorry about Maryann."

James nodded, "I just wish I could have told her how much I loved her one last time."

"I know how you feel," Sam confided, "I know exactly how you feel."

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Annabelle Livingston did still live in Philadelphia. She owned a wiccan shop on the other side of the city. Shortly after their conversation with James, Sam and Dean set out to find the shop.

The door to the small shop jingled happily as the brothers entered and were greeted by the scent and burning incense and candles.

"Welcome." They heard a voice called cheerfully from the back of the shop. "What can I help you boys with?" The woman stepped forward and smile at them. She was a thin woman who looked to be in her early 50's. Her slightly graying hair was twisted into dreadlocks and pulled back into a ponytail.

"Are you Annabelle Livingston?" Sam asked, taking a step further into the shop.

"Yes, I am." She replied, her eyes narrowing slightly but the smile remaining on her face.

"So your mother was Catherine St. Croix?" Sam pressed on.

"What's with the 20 questions young man." She smiled back politely.

"We need to know about your mothers' connection to Bernie Fontaine." Sam finished and waited for her reaction.

Annabelle glanced around the small shop suspiciously before gesturing for the two men to move closer. Dean and Sam walked towards the woman. Her smile had faded almost completely as she studied them. "What do you know about Bernie Fontaine?" She asked in a low voice.

"Enough." Dean replied vaguely and after seeing her look of skepticism added, "That your mother and him were heard talking a week prior to the fire."

Annabelle whipped her head around again with the same suspicious nature that she had displayed earlier. She pressed a forefinger to her lips hissing, "Shh," and then signaled for them to follow her into the back room. Dean hesitated but with a gentle push from Sam he reluctantly followed her.

She led them through a beaded curtain that separated the shop from the back room which resembled more of a living room than the bare concrete stock room that both Winchesters had expected. The room had two overstuffed couches flanking a small wooden coffee table. On the table was a plate full of blueberry muffins. Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of Dean's eyes lighting up at the sight of the muffins. Bottomless pit, he thought to himself.

"Have a seat." Annabelle gestured towards the couches as she turned her back to relight the incense on the far side of the room.

Dean plopped down and immediately grabbed a muffin. He opened his mouth to take a hearty bite only to pull it back a second later and glare at it in disgust.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked with a smile, "It's food isn't it?"

Dean shook his head, "No Sammy. When a food does this," he tapped the muffin against the coffee table causing the muffin to make a hollow sounding thud, "it's no longer food. It's weaponry." Sam stifled a laugh at the comment. Dean casually placed the muffin back on the plate and glanced over at Sam who was staring at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"I can't take you anywhere." Sam muttered.

Annabelle finished lighting the incense and took a seat on the couch across from Dean and Sam. Her smile was completely gone now. "Where did you hear about my mother?" She asked. Her hands were folded in her lap and her back was arched so that she looked like a cat perched on the edge of the couch.

"A friend." Dean responded, the emotionless tone of Annabelle's voice not scaring him.

"And why do you need to know about her relationship with Bernie Fontaine?" Annabelle remained motionless shifting her gaze between the brothers in even intervals.

"Have you ever visited The Sapphire Room?" Sam asked. Annabelle just looked at him but didn't respond. "You do know about The Sapphire Room, don't you?"

"I've heard stories." Annabelle replied.

"We think your mother was involved in what happened there." Sam stated, not really sure if this trip had been worth the while. Annabelle seemed too standoffish and he wasn't sure if he'd be willing to help. But, she was their only lead.

"My mother." Annabelle paused. Sam expected her to defend her mother but what he got was hardly a defense. "My mother was a horrible woman." Her shoulders loosened slightly as she began to relax. "While my grandmother and aunts practiced wiccan, my mother turned to black magic. People would pay her and she would put a curse on their boss, cast a spell on their ex-boyfriends or girlfriends, you know, acts of vengeance." Annabelle shook her head. "Bernie came to her and told her about a problem he was having."

"We know about his problem." Dean interjected. Annabelle nodded, not doubting their knowledge of Bernie's gambling problem. Most people who knew about Bernie knew about his extracurricular activities. It went hand in hand with the legend of The Sapphire Room itself.

"Bernie knew he was going to die." Annabelle continued, "He knew he'd never be able to make the money he needed to pay back-" Annabelle paused, twisting her hand in a circle as she tried to remember the name.

"Lucky Montgomery." Dean said.

Annabelle smiled, "You boys did your homework. Anyway, he knew Lucky was going to kill him. That's when he came to my visit my mother. I was only a little girl at the time by I remember listening outside the door as my mother cast the spell."

"The spell?" Sam shifted in his seat and leaned forward.

"My mother cast a spell on the club that would keep the people inside locked inside forever."

"So it trapped their spirits?" Dean asked.

"No," Annabelle shook her head, "It trapped their souls. It sent them into a-" Annabelle paused, her hands poised into the air as she stared off into the distance.

"Parallel universe?" Dean asked, thinking that it may have been the word Annabelle was searching for.

"No," Annabelle refocused her attention on the boys, "it's more like a time loop. They have been reliving the same night since the fire."

"The fire started the curse?" Dean asked as he turned the statement over and over in his head. He thought about his mother on the ceiling. The heat of the flames. The fire started the curse. If there was one statement to sum up his entire life he may have just involuntarily uttered it.

"No, Bernie's death started it." Annabelle explained. "The spell my mother cast was dependent on Bernie dying. The second he died the spell took affect. The fire is what sealed it. You see,a time loop can resemble a haunting but The Sapphire Room isn't haunted in the traditional sense."

"Wait," Dean interrupted, "If The Sapphire Room isn't haunted then how I manage to get thrown around the room by a ghost?"

Annabelle's eyes widened, "You saw Bernie?"

"I didn't really see him," Dean answered, "and how do you know it was Bernie and not just an angry ghost bouncer?"

"Bernie has all control in that place," Annabelle shifted uncomfortably as if the subject of Bernie and The Sapphire Room had suddenly caused her some kind of distress. "He's the only one aware of what's going on in the present day as well as in the time loop. He's the only one who could have seen that you were in the club."

"Which would explain how Bernie was able to attack you but the girl I saw didn't even give me a second glance." Sam reasoned.

"Exactly," Annabelle nodded, "The people who are trapped there," Annabelle paused slightly, "The day of the fire, they all died. The spell cloaked their bodies and that is what kept them trapped within the walls of The Sapphire Room. But none of them, except Bernie, know that they're dead. The only way to break the spell is to convince them that they are in fact deceased. And I assure you," Annabelle warned cautiously, "Bernie won't be to happy about it your trying to convince them of that."

Convinced that they had milked Annabelle of all the information she had, Sam and Dean thanked her and excused themselves. They had some planning to do before they returned to The Sapphire Room later that night.

As they were leaving Annabelle called after them, "Remember Bernie Fontaine won't give up The Sapphire Room without a fight and he's more dangerous now then he ever was when he was alive. Please, be careful boys."

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TBC...

A/N: I hope people are understanding what's going on with the time loop. I know it gets a little confusing but hey, what haunting isn't right?