Asylum
Sam lets out a sigh. "No, last we heard from him, dad was in California." He mumbles into the phone. He's speaking to Caleb, one of dad's hunter connections. "We just thought… He comes to you for 'munitions… Maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. Just uh, call us if you hear anything." Sam continues, glancing down. "Yeah, thanks." He hangs up with a shake of his head. "Caleb hasn't heard from him?" Dean asks from his position on the other bed in the motel room. "Nope. And neither has Jefferson, or Pastor Jim." Sam confirms. Ever since our last case, we've been renewing our efforts and searches for our father. The need to find him and see him again, is getting bigger. He is, however, still very hard to find.
"What about the journal, Skye? Any leads in there?" Sam turns to me. I look up at him with a small shake of my head. I've been guarding dad's journal for a while now, reading in it makes me feel closer to him. Whenever I do, I search for anything he's put in here that might lead us to him. No results, every time. "No, nothing. I've reread it twice now, I don't think there's anything else in here at all." I answer him honestly. Dean huffs. "Well, even if there were any leads, nothing we can make out. I mean, I love the guy, but I swear, he writes like friggin' Yoda." He grins at me. I let out a laugh, glancing back down at the journal in my lap. "You know, maybe we should call the feds. File a missing persons." Sam talks over us, not laughing or grinning at all. "We talked about this. Dad would be pissed if we put the feds on his tail." Dean states drily. I huff, nodding. He'd have our heads. "I don't care anymore…" Sam starts, dead serious. "After all that happened back in Kansas…" He gets interrupted by Dean's phone ringing in the background. As Dean gets up to retrieve it, he continues. "I mean, he should have been there, Dean. You said so yourself, you tried to call him and, nothing!" Sam raises his hands in the air. I let out a slow breath. Dean had confessed to us, a few days after our case in Kansas, that he'd tried to call dad to come and help us. And that dad had never called back. "I know." Is Dean's short reply. He bends over, searching through his bag for his phone. "Where the hell is my cellphone…" He mutters under his breath. "It is weird that he never called back." I agree with Sam, putting the journal aside for a moment. "You know, he could be dead for all we know." Sam suggests in frustration. That instantly angers Dean. "Don't say that." He argues, raising his voice. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable. That thought has been nagging me for a while, but I'd hate to think it's true. "He's… He's…" Dean shakes his head, not finding any words. "He's what? He's hiding? He's busy?" Sam continues to provoke his brother, it's starting to become annoying. "You need to stop." I tell him directly, hopping of the couch. Sam glances at me incredulously. "I need to stop?" He challenges me. "Yes. You always do this. I mean, I know you're frustrated, but it's not helping." I give him a glare, to let him know I'm serious. He's about to react, when Dean's phone finally stops ringing. He's found it. I expectantly wait for him, but he just continues to look at the screen. "Huh…" He then mutters with a shake of his head. "I don't believe it." I frown. "What? Who was it?" I ask him curiously. Dean doesn't answer me, he slowly lowers himself on the bed next to Sam. "What?" Sam asks him again, his tone softer. "It's uh, it's a text message." Dean explains slowly. "It's coordinates." He looks at Sam knowingly. "Coordinates to where?" I ask, leaning my head to the side. That's weird. "Does it say anything else?" I question, but Dean rises and sticks his hands out to Sam. "Gimme your laptop." He orders. Sam retrieves it for him and we watch him sit down with it, opening it up. "Dean, who was it from?" I repeat my question, throwing Sam a confused look. "Didn't say." Is Dean's short answer. Something starts to dawn on me. "Wait, you think it's dad?" Sam is clearly on the same thinking path. "You think dad just texted us?" I ask Dean directly. "He's given us coordinates before." Dean answers me, confirming my suspicion. I let out a soft gasp, sinking down on the bed. Sam shakes his head. "The man can barely work a toaster, Dean." He seems very skeptical. "Sam, this is good news. It means he's okay, or alive." Dean tells him. "Well, was there a number on the caller ID?" Sam argues. "Ah, it said unknown." Dean answers absentmindedly, starting to type on the laptop. "Where do the coordinates go, Dean?" I ask him, approaching him to look with him on the screen. "Well, that's the interesting part." He tells me, beckoning me over. "Rockford, Illinois." He points at the screen, where a red dot is pinpointed exactly there on the map. "Okay, and that's interesting how?" Sam asks him, eyebrows raised. Dean switches over to another screen with a bunch of texts on it. "I checked the local Rochford paper…" Dean turns his laptop slightly, inviting Sam over to us. "Hey, take a look at this." He patiently waits until Sam decides to stop being skeptical and walk over, eyes on the laptop. Dean clicks on a picture of a cop, smiling brightly in the camera. "This cop, Walter Kelly. Comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out." I lean my head to the side, staring at the picture of the cop. "Earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum." I frown. "Dean, what does this all have to do with the coordinates?" I ask him, thoroughly confused. "And with us?" Sam adds. Dean nods, grabbing dad's journal from the table and shuffling through it. "Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal." He answers, finding the correct page and showing us the article dad put in there. An article from an old paper. "Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths…" Dean glances up at the screen. "Till last week, at least." He looks up at Sam. "I think this is where he wants us to go." I glance from Dean to the screen, understanding. "Yeah, that does seem like a clear heading." I nod, standing back up. Sam has a very different reaction. He lets out a huff, shaking his head incredulously and rising from his chair. He throws his hands over his head, walking away from us. "This is a job." He mutters, throwing a hand over his face. "Dad wants us to work a job." He repeats. "Well, maybe we'll see him there… He wouldn't send us there without finding us, right?" I hopefully look at Dean. "Yeah, or maybe he's not there. I mean, he could be sending us there by ourselves, to hunt this thing." Sam crushes my dreams. "Who cares?" Dean interferes, closing dad's journal and the laptop. "If he wants us there, that's good enough for me." He concludes, standing up. Sam's still fighting him. "You don't think this is weird?" He asks, shaking his head. "The texting? The coordinates?" I have to agree with him there. "Yes, it is weird. I mean, we still haven't seen him, but he is texting…" I get shot down angrily. "Skye, don't start." Dean tells me, turning to Sam. "And Sam, dad's telling us to go somewhere. We're going." He makes the final decision, stalking to his bag. I let out a soft sigh, glancing at Sam's tense posture. Why won't dad just come back? Why doesn't he just call us?
It's silent as we pack our bags and get back on the road. I dive into my headphones and music, until Dean reminds we that we agreed I would study in the car. My complaints about it being too dark fall to deaf ears and I grumpily start reading through my geometry notes. As far as I can see them, it's pitch black outside. When we stop for gas, Dean orders Sam to do it. Sam silently listens and I watch how Dean grabs the laptop and starts typing furiously. "What are you looking for?" I ask him a few minutes later. "Well, the cop who died had a partner. They both went to that asylum, so I want to know where he is." Dean answers me shortly. "Maybe he's seen something, or…" I stop when Dean turns around to me. "Study." He cuts me off. "Hey, we agreed I'd study in the car, okay. Not during the hunt." I point out to him. He rolls his eyes at me, continuing with his search. I huff, contemplating whether I'll listen to him or just won't bother. I decide a few moments later that it's better to start. I still need to do a lot for history.
It's late in the evening, when we arrive at the bar where Daniel Gunderson is supposed to be right now. I don't know how Dean found that out, it wasn't on the computer. I watch, in full interest, how my brothers discuss a 'good cop, bad cop' routine to get this man to talk. "Why not just ask him?" I wonder, when both of them are ready to move. "This man is a cop, pretending to be somebody of authority is not going to help." Sam informs me drily. "So, what's this going to do then?" Dean chuckles. "Well, I'm going in there to harass this man, make him uncomfortable. Sammy here, will jump in as the hero and the cop will tell him everything we need to know." He explains, glancing at Sam. "And Sammy gets to chance to beat me up a little." He adds with a smirk. Sam grins back. "All right, see you soon I guess." I grimace, leaning back in my seat. Involuntarily letting them do this one. A sixteen year old girl won't get this cop to talk, I know that. "Oh, and look for dad in there! Maybe he's having a beer!" My last shout falls to deaf ears.
After about five minutes, Dean's already walking back out of the bar. He looks slightly disgruntled. "So, did it work?" I ask him as he enters the car. "Got shoved into the bar pretty hard, so yeah." He tells me, shaking his head slightly. I grin, bowing my head to hide it from him. "So, uh..?" I glance at him expectedly. Dean raises his eyebrows at me. "You really think dad would be in a bar like this?" He challenges me. I am about to make a snarky remark about my father's alcohol usage, but bite my tongue and hold it in.
Together we wait for Sam to get back out of the bar. It doesn't take him very long, which is nice. I'm sick and tired of all these important people that I need to remember and in what year they did what they did. I happily close my book and get out of the car. I lean next to Dean on the hood, watching Sam approach. "Pushed me pretty hard in there, buddy boy." Dean states with a steel face. "Had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting." Sam answers, raising his hands in the air. "Huh?" Dean frowns. "It's when you…" I'm about to explain it to him, a large grin still plastered on my face. Dean glares at me, telling me to drop it. "What did you find out from Gunderson?" He asks Sam, turning around. Sam's walked past us to the other side of the car. "So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even-keeled. He had a bright future ahead of him." Sam says, leaning on the top of the car. "What about a home?" Dean asks. "He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but it was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids." Sam explains. "That poor woman…" I mutter, shaking my head. "Then how does he go from that, to a double suicide?" I glance up at Dean. "Well, either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him." I nod. "Right." Dean glances back at Sam. "Did Gunderson tell you anything about the asylum?" Sam huffs, a grimace on his face. "A lot." He opens the car door and gets inside. "What?" I ask him, following his lead and dropping down into the backseat. "Let's find a motel first, I'm exhausted." Is his reply, repressing a yawn. "Yeah, we can visit the asylum first thing in the morning." Dean agrees, starting the car and driving off.
A motel is quickly found and we settle in. I claim one of the beds, propping up the pillows. I grab dad's journal and start ruffling through it, until I find the article that Dean pointed out this morning, the article that dad had of this place. "All right, where is..?" Dean's glance falls on me on the bed with the journal. He grins. "Well, looks like someone had the same thought as me." He approaches my bed and takes place on it. "What, you starting to do research by yourself now, too?" Sam asks me incredulously, taking place at the table. "Well, that's what most of the hunt is about, right?" I challenge him, not able to stop myself from smiling. "Who told you that?" Dean frowns in confusion. "Got that from Sam." I wisely state. "That's my girl." Sam grins proudly, throwing Dean a meaningful look. "Sure, sure." Dean shakes his head with a chuckle. "Alright, brainiac, what's in it?" He asks me, inviting me into the conversation. "Uh, well, it says here that two local teenagers burned to death inside the asylum in 1972. Inside the south wing, in particular." I read it out from the article. "That's consistent with what Gunderson told me." Sam nods. "He said that the cops chased the kids into the south wing." I glance back at the article. "Yeah, three went in, only one came out." I conclude, scanning my eyes through the information. "Did that kid say anything on what happened?" Dean asks me. "Well, he said one of his friends went nuts and just started lighting up the place." I answer him. "You don't just do that, right? I mean, something has to be making these people go crazy?" I glance up at Sam. He shrugs, letting out a sigh. "Sure looks that way." He nods, leaning back in his chair.
After speculating about what this could be or why these people did what they did, Sam and I start yawning simultaneously. "All right, let's keep it at that. We're going to take a look in the asylum tomorrow." Dean marks the end of the conversation and we prepare ourselves for the night. There's no couch in this motel room, which shortly brings up the conversation on what we're doing with the sleeping situation. Dean obviously claims the right bed and refuses to share anything, shouting out how he's not had a good night sleep in weeks. Sam and I end up sharing the bed, much to my disliking. I love my brother, but his giant body is not fitted for a bed that can only have one person in it. Eventually, it does help. Since the heater in the room is broken and the chilly wind is getting through the window, his body is what keeps me warm and sends me off to sleep.
When I wake the next morning, actually feeling like I had a good night sleep, I realize I did not have a nightmare. I had expected to have one, since the poltergeist scared the living crap out of me. I'd expected I'd be dreaming about how it had Sam in its grip, how it threw me through the room. Nothing. I'm not the only one that noticed. "Morning, pup." Dean's rough voice comes from the other bed. He's already dressed, tying up his shoe-laces. "Morning." I give him a soft smile, not yet leaving the warmth of the bed. Sam's still asleep next to me and I have a feeling Dean doesn't want to wake him yet. "How did you sleep?" I ask him, remembering how he said he'd not been sleeping well for weeks. "Surprisingly good, to be honest." He answers me, his face relaxed. "Ah, that's good. What changed?" I glance up at him in curiosity. "You." He points out to me with a smile. "Me?" I frown. "Yeah, you. I have been prepared for screaming and trashing for months now. Always ready, you know. But uh, well…" He stops talking. "Yeah, no nightmare." I nod, instantly understanding. Also instantly feeling guilty. I didn't realize my nightmares had kept Dean from his sleep. Thinking about it now, it actually seems kind of logical. "So uh, the question's really for you." He turns back to me. "What changed?" I hesitate for a second, before confessing my thoughts to him. "I think, uh… Seeing mom… I think seeing her protect us…" I don't finish my sentence, not sure where I'm going with this. Dean stays silent, clearly ready to listen to whatever I am going to say. "The nightmare I had after that… It had her in it." I look at my hands, swallowing the lump in my throat. "It did?" Dean's voice is soft and when I look up, he's approached me. He slowly sits down next to me. "Yeah, uh… She basically repeated in my dream what she did in the house." I hadn't thought I'd be telling him this, but here I am. "She protected you." Dean nods to himself, before grabbing my hands in his. "Hey, that's good. That's a very good way of driving away those horrific nightmares." His eyes twinkle, as he looks into mine. "They were bad, weren't they?" I let out a dry chuckle. Dean huffs. "I was actually pretty worried." He confesses, squeezing my hands supportively. "Hey…" I call after him, as he stands up. "Will you tell me what she was like?" I continue, when he's turned around to me. He lets out a slow breath. "I will, one day." He promises, before walking away. He retrieves his keys and leaves to go get us breakfast. That's when I grab my chance and dash towards Dean's bag, retrieving his cellphone. Nothing, sadly. I'd hoped Dad would have contacted us, now we're here.
I shake Sam awake, informing him Dean's getting breakfast. Then, I move into the tiny bathroom. I'm actually quite afraid to take a shower, this motel room seems to be one of the worst ones. I, however, have to. I am going to start my period soon, I can feel it. A sort of uneasy feeling has settled into my lower stomach. Mostly a sign that I'll start bleeding in a few days.
Sam's dressed and Dean's returned, when I'm done. We eat together and then put ourselves back on the road, towards the asylum.
I'm pretty glad Dean decided to do this in the morning. The asylum looks way less threatening in the morning light. It still looks threatening, though. It's a massive building, a high fence covering the ground. Trash is everywhere, from cans and soda bottles, to wrappers and toilet paper. It doesn't smell great, I can instantly smell it when I get out of the car. "Do we have to?" I turn to Dean, who's glancing at the big fence. He grins at me. "Wanna stay in the car?" I glare at him. "Obviously not…" I mutter under my breath. "Come on, time for some parkour." Sam places both hands on my shoulder and pushes me towards the high fence. I watch how both of them jump, grab the wires and claw themselves upwards. Both of them are over there in five seconds. I let out a breath. I've been getting better at this, the climbing and parkour stuff. I'm not the girl I was those few months back on the airplane case. Where I failed miserably at climbing that high gate and even hurt myself on the barbed wire. I glance at my hand. There's still a little scar there.
"Skye, come on." Dean's impatient call brings me back to reality and I inhale deeply. I sprint up towards the fence and jump, just like they did. I try to get ahold of the wires, but they slip out of my fingers easily. I slide back down. My face instantly turns bright red. I don't want to fail, but I especially don't want them to see me fail. "Come on, Sam." Dean chuckles and grabs Sam's arm. "Skye, try to…" Sam tries to help me, but Dean shakes his head. "No, if she wants to learn, she needs to figure this out herself." I feel my face heat up even more. "We'll be inside, puppy. Wanna join? Climb the fence." Dean throws me a cheeky wink, turning around and dragging Sam with him. Soon, they're out of sight.
For a second, I deliberate getting back to the car and waiting. I'm fuming. I hate these kind of teaching methods. Sam could have just helped me, it would have been fine. But, no, that asshole wants me to do it by myself. You know what, if he wants me to do it myself, then I will.
Third time's the charm, in the end. I finally get myself to grab the wires and hold on, keeping me hanging halfway on the fence. The key is speed, I know that. So I push through, throw myself across the top and catch myself on the other side. It's a rough landing, but I did make it over. I'm proud of myself, but that feeling disappears as soon as I look ahead. The door my brother's disappeared through, is standing slightly open. The smell is getting worse, it looks very uninviting.
When I walk through the door, an even worse situation unfolds in front of me. I enter some kind of room, it's completely abandoned. Trash and graffiti cover the floor and the walls. Some old furniture stands in random places, looking old and dirty. I let out an honest to god scream, when suddenly a shadow appears behind me and a hand touches my shoulder. "Boo." Dean appears behind me, a large grin on his face. I am ready to slap him, hard. Frustration builds up and I let out a growl. "Don't EVER do that again! You scared the crap out of me!" I raise my hand, but stop myself from actually hitting him on his arm. "Told you, you shouldn't have." Sam's calm voice comes from my right. He has that same large grin on his face, though. "I hate the both of you." I tell them angrily. "I know." Dean chuckles, squeezing my shoulder supportively. "You did get over the fence, though!" His eyes twinkle with pride. That refuels my anger. "Yeah, also don't ever do that again! Don't laugh at me and leave me out there alone." I snap at him. He raises his eyebrows at me challengingly, but does not reply.
We look around, taking in our surroundings. "Skye, what did that article say about the location of those kids?" Sam asks me, staring up at the ceiling. I follow his glance and see a very old sign. "Ah, the south wing. That was in the article." I recall, pointing at it. "It's also what the cop said, right?" Dean asks Sam, walking over to him. "Yup." Sam nods. "Whatever is going on here, the south wing seems to be the heart of it." Dean frowns, glancing back at me. "Yeah, but if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?" He wonders. I glance around, but Sam's the one that finds the answer. "Looks like these doors are usually chained." He mutters, walking towards the door. There's a big chain there, on the floor next to it. "Could have been chained up for ages by the government." I comment, walking after him. "Trying to keep people out… Or to keep something in." Dean stops, when a sudden noise catches us off guard. The door we're standing in front of, opens slowly. By itself. "Well…" I whisper, goosebumps having appeared all over my skin.
Dean leads the way, pushing the door further open and stepping in. I hesitantly follow. Any sane person would run the other way. We, we move towards danger.
We walk into a long, hallway with stone walls and a few high windows. Giving me a creeped out feeling. Old, dusty wheelchairs and other pieces of furniture are spreading the way. I carefully maneuver around them. "Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel." Dean teases, breaking the tense silence. "Dude, enough." Sam snaps back at him. Dean drily chuckles. "No, I'm serious. You gotta be careful, alright. Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you got going on." He continues in a more serious tone. "I told you, it's not ESP, I just have strange vibes sometimes." Sam argues, speeding up to walk next to Dean. Dean's taken out his EMF meter, already not listening anymore. "Strange dreams…" Sam adds, a little more hesitant. I let out a breath. They're still going on about the whole 'Sam has dreams that come true' thing from last case. When he finally told us about it. Dean's not grasping it that well. "Yeah, whatever. Don't ask, don't tell." Dean glances around, his focus on his EMF reader. "Anything coming up?" I ask loudly, breaking up whatever argument they're about to have. "Nope." Dean stops and turns around to me, showing me the blank meter. "Of course, that doesn't mean nobody's home." He adds. I frown. "How so?" I ask him. Sam's the one that answers me, still a bit annoyed. "Spirits can appear during certain hours of the day." Dean nods. "Yeah, the freaks come out at night." He wiggles his eyebrows at me. "Right." I mutter, feeling a little relieved. "Hey Sam?" Dean turns back around to his brother. "Who do you think is the hotter psychic? Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?" Sam reacts by raising his arm and giving Dean a playful push. Dean erupts into laughter, it bounces off the walls. It makes me smile automatically, his laugh can clear up anything. It's sad he only rarely lets it out. "I think Jennifer Love Hewitt." I state matter of factly, adding to Dean's laugh and making Sam chuckle.
A little while later, Dean walks through a door to our left. He lets out a few coughs at all the dust swarming around, letting out an amazed whistle. I scrunch up my nose, taking in the room. "Oh, I hate this one." I complain softly, glancing around. There's more dust here, more thickness in the air. A beheaded baby doll lies on a desk in the back and weird instrument are scattered around the room. They look like torture devices of therapy chairs or something. I step into the room, approaching one. "What the hell do you think this was used for?" I ask, touching the bonds that were probably used to bound someone in a position. "Well, this one was for electro shock." Dean points at whatever's in front of him. He then turns around, pointing at another contraption. "Lobotomies… They did some twisted stuff to these people." He then glances back at Sam with amusement in his eyes. "Kind of like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest." His voice takes on a silly tone and he gives Sam the crazy eyes. Sam completely ignores him. "You know, one joke is funny. Two are okay, but three get annoying." I state, grinning when he rolls his eyes at me. "So, what do you think? Ghosts possessing people?" He asks, back into hunter mode, glancing around the room. "Maybe…" Sam mutters. "Or maybe it's more like, uh, Amityville, or the Smurl hunting." He adds. "You mean spirits driving people insane from the outside?" I glance at him. That could be it. "Ah, yeah. Kind of like my man Jack in The Shining." Dean grins to himself, letting his eyes glance through the room thoughtfully. Sam doesn't laugh or grin. He goes quiet, becoming serious. "Dean… When are we gonna talk about it?" His voice is low as he stares at his brother. Dean seems confused. "Talk about what?" He questions. I answer his question before Sam can even open his mouth. I know what he wants to talk about. Even though I'm reluctant to, it's important. "Dad's not here." I mutter, glancing at the ground. "He's never been here." Sam adds with a short nod. "Oh, uh… Let's see… Never." Dean eyes Sam warily, he was serious when he said that. "I'm serious, man." Sam argues, taking a step forward. Dean interrupts him. "So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll just have to pick up the search later." Dean challengingly raises his eyebrows at Sam. "It doesn't matter what he wants." Sam protests, deadly serious. "See, that attitude right there, that is why I always got the extra cookie." Dean states. That angers me. "I'm sorry, but I don't think what Sam's saying is weird at all. He's not having an 'attitude' right now, he's asking the real questions." I raise my voice, it echoes through the room harshly. Dean turns around to me, a shocked look on his face. "Why isn't he here, Dean? He should be? Is he in trouble?" I add in a softer voice, my own echo having scared me. "She's right. He 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 continues, pointing a finger at me. Dean angrily turns back to him. "I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order." He states. "So what? We always gotta follow dad's orders?" Sam argues. "Of course we do." Dean argues back. I watch with an uncomfortable feeling how they're staring each other down. I was never a part of those orders Dean just spoke of, so I have no clue what to say to that. I, however, do know what dad is like when he wanted me to do something or asked me to do something. Saying no was never really an option.
Dean's eventually the one that breaks the staring contest and turns back around, walking over to the wooden box he earlier claimed was used for shock therapy. He touches it, acting like nothing just happened. Sam raises his arms to me, clearly looking for support. I can't give that to him, but I do approach him and wrap an arm around his side. Simply to let him know that I support him.
"Sanford Ellicott…" Dean mutters a little while later. He holds up a sign with a name on it. "You know what we gotta do. We gotta find out more about the south wing." He turns around, giving Sam a strict look as he approaches him. "See if something happened here." He finishes, pushing the sign into Sam's stomach. Sam grabs it, glancing down. "C'me on, Skye." Dean grabs my shoulder and leads me with him, back out the door.
We make our way outside and back over the fence, to the car. This time it takes me one try to get over the fence. Yes, I take longer than my brothers do, but the fact that I can do it now is what counts. Oh, and also the proud grin Dean throws me.
It's silent in the car, as we make our way back to the motel. Dean and Sam are not speaking to each other. It would have been okay, had the tension between them not been so heavy. I know Sam gets on Dean's nerves. That's because he's never afraid to ask the true questions, the questions that bother him. Dean's not like that. Dean's been taught to just shut up and do as you are told. Two very different ways of handling the situation with our father.
At the motel, Sam digs into the research about this Ellicott guy that was on the name plate. He finds a lot, sharing it all with us. About how Dr. Sanford Ellicott was the chief psychiatrist, chief of staff, at the Roosevelt Asylum. And that there was an incident, right there in the south wing we just came from. "Does it say what the incident was?" I ask, making myself more comfortable on the bed I'm lounging on. "No, classified." Sam shakes his head with a sigh. "Well, we need to…" I can't finish my sentence. "Yes, we need to indeed. And I know how." Dean's eyes are twinkling and he glances at Sam. "His son is still a psychiatrist, working a few blocks from here." He wiggles his eyebrows. Sam groans. "Dude, hell no. I am so not talking to a shrink…" He protests. I shoot upwards. "I can go?" As expected, Dean and Sam don't even react to that. They continue to argue on who should go to the psychiatrist. "Hello! I could go!" I yell after a few seconds of getting ignored. They both stop this time. "No, Skye. Leave this to Sam, Sam'll go." Dean tells me, squinting his eyes at me. "No, I will not. You can go." Sam retorts, huffing in annoyance. "Okay, both of you don't want to go! So let me go, I'm perfectly fine with going!" I raise my hands in the air to emphasize my point. "All right, how? What's your plan?" Dean asks me directly, leaning back in his chair. "Well, I'll call the office and ask if I can see Dr. Ellicott now, it's an emergency. The assistant will then tell me there's no place for me now, but I'll insist and make up something if I have to, that's bad enough he'll want to see me. Then I go in there and ask him whatever I want to know." I can't help but smile when Dean looks at me, completely baffled by my answer. "Come on, Dean! This isn't dangerous, this psychiatrist is not a monster. Not part of this case. We just need information, let me try and get that!" I stand and put my hands in my sides. "You're goin too fast, you know that?" Dean challenges me, standing up. "What?" I throw back at him. "Exactly like I said, you're going too fast." He repeats, shaking his head shortly. "You are desperately learning how to shoot, pushing us to take you out almost every day. You're practicing to fight, you want me to teach you how to drive the car. You are throwing yourself into these cases." He lays the statistics out in front of me. "I'm not desperate." I huff in annoyance. "Yes, you are." Sam bows his head as he interferes. "Cause when we find dad, we all know we can never speak of this and it can't continue as long as he's around." He glances up at me apologetically. Almost like he's sorry he just spoke the truth. I'm baffled by their observations, they anger me to no end. "I'm just trying to be who I want to be. Is that really so much to ask? Is it really necessary for us to keep having this conversation?" I throw my hands in the air in frustration. "Yes." Dean raises his voice. "Yes, it is. Because you know what happens when you throw yourself into cases unprepared, or too eagerly? You get hurt." He stalks towards me, stopping right in front of me. "Look…" He lets out a deep sigh. "I would be lying, if I said I'm not a little proud of how you want to be a bad hunter, okay? You could do it, definitely. But you are sixteen, you are not getting hurt on my watch." His voice has gone softer, but he's still looking at me with fierce determination. "I already got hurt on your watch." The hurt look in his eyes makes me feel guilty instantly. He turns his hurt into anger. "No. Sam's going." He turns around back to Sam. Sam's about to open his mouth to protest, but the strict look in Dean's eyes makes him hesitate. "Fine." He grunts after a little silence, getting up from his chair in defeat. I grit my teeth together, knowing it's over. I can get angry at him now, but that'll end in a useless fight that I do not have the energy to have.
Sam calls the psychiatrist office and is able to schedule a meeting in an hour. We drive there in silence. My anger has died down, but I'm still giving Dean the silent treatment. And Sam too, for not backing me up. I know I have no chance with Dean in situations like these, but Sam taking my side always makes that a little easier. When he doesn't, is when it gets hard.
I watch Sam walk into the building, letting out a deep sigh. Dean drums his hands on the steering wheel impatiently, clicking his tongue. "Hey, did you take your study books by any chance?" He asks me, not looking at me. "No." I snap. "Well, good thing that I did. Let's see how much you know of biology." He reaches for the compartment and when he flips it open, I actually see my biology book in there. "You are literally gonna force me to do this, aren't you?" I ask him in an exasperated sigh. "Yes." Is his short answer. I suppress a groan. This is not good. Once he notices I don't know much, he'll realize that my lack of studying has had its effects and that my confidence in passing the exams was a lie. A blatant lie.
"Well, I'd prefer studying by myself." I state slowly. "No, you don't. You let Sam help you all the time." He protests, raising his eyebrows at me. "Yeah, cause he can actually help me." I retort. Dean doesn't chuckle, or smirk at that snare. He just glares at me, opening the book and ruffling through it. There's the guilt again, but I push it down. "You prefer where I start?" He glances up expectantly. "Chapter 3." I bow my head. That's the chapter I thoroughly studied last week with Sam. Chances are, I'll remember a few things.
Dean proceeds to question me for the next thirty minutes. Thankfully, I seem to remember way more about it then I had expected. I have the answer to most of his questions and with the ones that I don't know, Dean actually guides me through it. He's not being a dictator at all, like I had expected. He's actually being quite a good teacher. My frustration and nervousness die down completely and at the end, I feel at ease.
"Good job." Dean praises me, closing the book and putting it back in the compartment. "You know, you might learn something too, like this." I joke. This time he does grin. "Nahh, all goes out back through the other ear." He teases. "Sam's in there quite long, isn't he?" I glance at the doors Sam disappeared through almost forty minutes ago. Dean's about to react, when the doors open and Sam stalks back outside. His face uneasy. "Huh." Dean huffs.
"Dude, you were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?" Dean comments as soon as Sam has opened the door and stepped back inside. "Just the hospital, you know." He answers shortly. "Must be one hell of a story, then. What did you find out?" I lean forward in my seat, eager to hear what information he gathered. "Well, the south wing? It's where they housed the real nutcases. The psychotics, the criminally insane." Dean huffs. "Cozy." He comments. "Yeah, and one night in '64 they rioted. Attacked the staff, attacked each other." Sam adds. "Well, guess that got ugly, huh?" I lean my head to the side, already able to imagine what chaos that must have been. "So, the patients took over the asylum?" Dean questions. "Apparently." Sam mutters. "People died, didn't they?" I continue, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach. "Yeah, some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory, some of the bodies were never even recovered." Sam glances up at Dean knowingly. "Including, our chief of staff, Ellicott." Dean frowns. "What do you mean, never recovered?" Sam calmly reacts. "Cop scoured every inch of the place, but I guess the patients must have… stuffed the bodies somewhere hidden." I groan. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me." That's gross. And inhumane. "That's grim." Dean agrees with me. "Yeah. So, they transferred all the surviving patients and shut down the hospital for good." Sam finishes his story. "All right. So, to sum it up. We got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies." Dean states with a shake of his head. "Yeah, and a bunch of angry spirits." I huff. "Yeah, good times." Dean turns to me. "Shut your ears, cover them up." He tells me. With a frown I reach for my ears, cupping my hands around them. "Let's check out the hospital tonight." Dean proceeds to say to Sam, more in a hushed voice. That actually makes me laugh. "Really? Ya think I didn't hear that?" Dean smirks, starting the car. "You didn't." He states. I roll my eyes, but let it go for now.
As nightfall approaches, the sphere gets uneasy. I don't really know what to think about his joke earlier and decide to just ask him. "So, you definitely are taking me with you tonight, right? That little joke you did earlier, was just that, right? A joke." Dean opens his mouth, letting out a deep sigh. "No, it wasn't. Well, it was a joke, but I am serious about it." He states, purposely not looking at me. "You've got to be kidding me…" I whisper, more to myself then to him. Dean's about to react, but Sam stops him. He turns to me, his face serious. "Don't do this. Not again." He states. "Do what?" I ask him in confusion. "Fight." Is his dry response. "I am getting sick and tired of all those discussions and fights you repeatedly have about this." He stands up, frustration in his eyes. "Really? You're sick of them?" I angrily shoot up as well. "Yes, very. I don't even understand why you two keep going at each other about this. It's literally the same damn discussion every time. Every time!" He throws his hands in the air, to emphasize his point. I open my mouth to react, but realize I really don't have anything to say to that. He's right. It is the same discussion every time. "So, stop." He looks at me intently. "Why you looking at me? He's right there, you know." I angrily point out to him. "Because it's you who starts, every time." Ouch, that hurt. My eyes widen. He doesn't let me react. "Shut up about it, for once, okay? It's plain logical that we don't want to take you with us to a dangerous asylum with a bunch of violent spirits at night. You get that? So, shut up about it and stay here. Stay safe." His raised voice calms down at the end of that sentence. I'm too baffled to say anything to him. "Dean, c'me on." Sam reaches for his jacket and shrugs it on. Dean slowly rises, he's confused. Neither of us expected Sam to explode, we were both readying ourselves to explode. I grit my teeth and stare after them as they walk up to the door. Sam turns around briefly, but I must be glaring at him so intensely he decides not to say what he wanted to say.
I watch them leave without saying another word. As soon as they're gone and I hear the roar of the impala, I drop down on the couch. How dare Sam put this on me. How dare he, when he's supposed to know what it feels like to want something you apparently can't have.
I have no idea how long I'm there, on the couch. Raging on the inside. Waiting to calm down a little. I had thought, since we'd gone through this already, that it would be easier now. Easier, to convince them, especially Dean, to teach me. To include me, to take my with them. Apparently being closer to dad, stopped whatever progress we had.
An hour later, when I'm looking at the small TV with a very bad signal, my phone beeps. Somewhere in the background. My heartbeat accelerates instantly and I jump up. Could that be dad? Finally contacting us? I find my phone and am thoroughly disappointed when I see it's a text from Dean. Probably wanting to know if I'm still here, studying like a good girl. I hesitate to open it. I could just ignore it. Curiosity wins that battle.
'We need you here! Come, quick!'
I stare at the message for a while, flabbergasted. Then, a happy feeling spreads through me. They need me. They need me there, with them. On the hunt. I knew it, I knew they would.
I dash towards my jacket and shrug it on. The asylum isn't far from here, a few blocks maybe. A twenty minute walk. A ten minute run.
I grab a spare flashlight, exit, lock up and stuff my phone in my pocket. Then I break out in a sprint.
Fifteen minutes later, I see the tall fence in the background, rising in the air. I speed my jog back up and the large building appears in front of me soon. "Woah, I need to go on more runs." I mutter to myself, skidding to a halt in front of the fence, completely out of breath. I launch myself up and make it over, quicker than last time. I'm quite proud of myself.
I run to the entrance, glad to see the door's still open. They must be inside already. Without thinking, I grab the flashlight, turn it on and step inside.
The dark hall in front of me, catch me off guard. I take a breath, a cold puff of air escaping my lips. I turn slightly, but the doorway I just passed through looks just as dark and creepy. "Dean?" My voice echoes, bouncing off the walls. Sounding shrill and scared. "Sam?" I shiver, a cold breeze softly blowing through the passage. I hesitantly put a step forward, shining the light around me. It looks just like it did this afternoon, but different. Darker. Scarier. Sinister.
I can't stay in my spot forever, so I move. Slowly and cautiously, through the halls. There's no one in sight, I don't hear any voices or noises telling me there's people here. "Dean?" I try again, but no response. What did I get myself into, here? Now that I think about it, it's odd Dean texted me to come. Especially after the discussion we had earlier. He wouldn't really do that, would he? Neither would Sam. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I swirl around, pointing my flashlight behind me. I thought I heard something. Saw something. A soft whisper, a distant wail.
I take a right turn, holding my breath. I haven't seen anything, but I'm sure there's spirits here. After what we discovered about the riot, it would be weird if they weren't here. They're here, they just haven't shown themselves to me.
I seem to be wandering the halls for ages. I can't really seem to find a way, and now that I think of it, I don't really know the way back either. "Damnit. Great thinking, Skye." I whisper to myself. I'm once again filled with anger, but this time at myself. This was stupid. I shouldn't have just gone in with only a flashlight, Dean will have my head for it once I find him.
I freeze in my spot a few seconds later. I heard something. This time I'm sure of it. I definitely heard something. A soft whisper, a girls voice. "Hello?" I hesitantly call out. "Crap." I hear a grunt and then what sounds like two pairs of footsteps. Shuffling around the corner to my left. "Hello? Someone there?" I call out again, taking a few steps forward. "I'll shoot! I have a gun!" I hear a scared voice call back to me, indeed coming from my left. "No! No, don't shoot!" I instantly put my arms up, even though no gun is pointed at me yet. "Would a spirit say that?" I hear a boy's whisper now. I frown. "Uh, I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'm not a spirit. I'm Skye!" I call back. I inhale deeply, before moving forward. "I'm… Uh, I'm coming around the corner now. Don't shoot!" I repeat. With my hands still high in the air, I shuffle towards the corner. When I take a peak around, I see a boy and a girl standing against the wall, huddled together. The boy's hiding behind the girl, who has a shotgun in her hand. She's shaking, but still seems tough. "Oh, Jesus. Hey, hi. You're not ghosts either." I let out a big breath of relief, stepping fully into their sight. The girl instantly points the shotgun at me, purely out of reflex. "Hey! Hey, it's okay! It's okay, it's just me. Skye." I repeat, showing her my hands to try to tell her I mean no harm. The girl slowly lowers the shotgun, still looking at me in fright. "Uh, what are you guys doing here?" I ask them, slowly approaching them. "We're on a date." The girl states, her voice dripping with sarcasm. The boy huffs slowly. "Hey, uh, I'm Gavin." He then tells me, his eyes flashing around him. "I'm Katherine, but call me Kat. Everyone does." The girl follows his lead. It makes me feel immensely better that I'm no longer alone in this scary place and now know the names of the two strangers I stumbled upon.
"Hi. Uh, can I ask you a question?" I glance down at the shotgun in the girls hand and frown. "Did you, uh, stumble in here with that shotgun?" The girl gives me a panicked giggle, shaking her head. "Uh, no. I uh, well… When I lost Gavin, a little while back, I hid and two guys found me. One of them gave me this shotgun to protect myself, I think it was Sam." She frowns when I let out a gasp of relief. "Oh, thank God. That means they're here. Where did they go?" I ask her hastily, glancing around me through the darkness. "You know them?" She questions in confusion. I huff. "Yeah, they're my brothers." I inform her. "Ah… That actually explains a lot." She mutters that last part more to herself. "Then you know this place is filled with ghosts. You know, like actual ghosts and spirits and stuff." The guy looks at me with wide eyes. I give a small chuckle. "Uh, yeah." I confirm.
All three of us swirl around in shock when we hear something coming from behind us. The hallway that leads to the left. There's noises coming from there, footsteps maybe? I act instantly. "Gimme that." I hush at Kat, who immediately hands over the shotgun. I take a protective stance in front of both of them, aiming it right at the opening. It's the first time ever that I'm touching a shotgun, but I'm sure I'll be able to work it.
We all hold our breath, as we wait for whatever is around the corner. Coming closer. Coming at us. I've been waiting to be scared to death by a ghost since I stepped foot in here, better do it now while I'm armed.
It's Dean, who comes hurrying around the corner seconds later. He instantly freezes when he sees a shotgun aimed at him, his hands shooting up. "Hey! Hey, it's me, damnit." He calls out, his voice low and strong. "Oh, thank God!" I instantly lower the shotgun, wiping some cold sweat from my forehead. My peace doesn't last long. Cause as soon as Dean sees me, recognizes me and realizes that I'm here, he stalks towards me in fuming anger. Clutching his own shotgun and the familiar duffle bag hanging over his shoulder. "What the HELL are you doing here?" He straight up yells into my face, reaching for the shotgun and ripping it out of my hand. "I…" I don't even get a chance to say anything. "What about 'stay at the motel' DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?" I stare right back into his furious face. "Did you actually just disobey everything me and Sam said and walk over here?" I shortly shake my head. "You texted me." I snap back at him, hating how he's yelling at me in front of these people. It's humiliating. "What? I didn't text you!" His lips have formed a thin, white line, his jaws clenched. "Yes, you did." I hastily grab into my pocket and reach for my phone, showing him the text I received. He stares at it in complete confusion. "What the hell?" He clicks on it a few times, before glancing at me. He's no longer furious. "You realize I didn't send you this, right?" He snaps at me. "Well, I do now." I reply to him, confusion settling into my own stomach. "But, if you didn't send it, then who did?" He ignores my question and looks at Kat and Gavin, who are still behind me. "And what are you guys doing here? Where is Sam?" He asks them. "H-He went to the basement, you called him." Dean's eyes widen, looking thoroughly confused. "I didn't call him." He tells them. "His cellphone rang, he said it was you." Kat tells him. "You've got to be kidding me." Dean's about to literally stamp his foot. "So you didn't call Sam and you didn't text me, but somehow both us still received something from you. Something's doin this." I conclude, throwing my hands in the air and raising my eyes at him. "Clearly." He snaps. "Basement, right?" He glances back at Gavin and Kat. They both give him panicked nods. "All right, okay." He glances down, checks the gun in his belt and then hands the shotgun back to Kat. "Watch yourselves. And watch out for us." He adds, giving them both a meaningful look. "You, with me." He then snaps, grabbing my arm and pulling me with him. We stalk away, I slightly have to run to keep up with him. He has not calmed down, he still seems pretty pissed. "Look, okay, I know you're angry…" I start apprehensively. He gives me a growl, pushing some hanging flaps of plastic to the side. I wisely stay silent after that, but he decides it's clearly time for a lecture. "I can't believe you, you know." He starts, voice filled with pure frustration. "You receive a weird text from me. You should have known right then and there. I never just text you, I don't!" He glares at me as he walks on, not loosening the grip on my arm. "Then, you decide to walk over to this abandoned asylum in the middle of the freaking night, alone! Alone, for crying out loud." He turns a corner, his pace fastening automatically. "And then you get here, unarmed, with only a flashlight. And you just walk in here? You know there's pissed off spirits here, ready to kill you? And you still…" He stops himself, too angry to continue speaking. I let out a soft breath. I don't dare interrupting him, not before he's gotten it all out. He breathes harshly, before stopping and releasing my arm. "We will talk about this later, okay?" He grabs my shoulder and stares right into my eyes. "Okay." I softly reply, hesitantly glancing back. "Stay with me, and for the love of God, don't do anything stupid."
He turns and stalks on, in search of the basement. I hastily follow him, both of starting to call out for Sam. "Sammy?" Dean's rough voice breaks the tense silence. We walk into a smaller room, leading to a bigger hall. "Sam?" I repeat, glancing around. It's so dark that I can barely see anything. Dean shines his flashlight through the room slowly. Both of us jolt and grunt in surprise, when suddenly, there he is. Sam, standing still in the middle of the room. "Man!" Dean quickly pulls his shotgun away. "Answer me when I'm calling you." He adds in renewed anger, stalking up to Sam. "You alright?" He then asks a little calmer. "Yeah, I'm fine." Sam replies in a steady voice. His eyes fall on me and he frowns. "What the hell is she doing here?" He questions. His reaction is a lot milder than I expected and I frown at him. The way he was yelling at me earlier, about starting fights and pushing myself into the investigation, certainly called for a different response than that. "Long story, for later." Dean answers him, gritting his teeth together. "You know it wasn't me who called your cell, right?" Sam nods instantly. "Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here." He explains. "Yeah, well, something lured me here as well." Sam raises his eyebrows at me. Dean changes the subject. "Well, I think I know who. Dr. Ellicott." Sam glances at him in slight confusion. "Wait, the guy the patients murdered during that riot?" Dean nods shortly. "Yeah, the guy the spirits have been trying to tell us about. You haven't seen him, have you?" Sam shakes his head. "No. How do you know it was him?" Dean lets out a sigh. "Cause I found his logbook. Apparently he was experimenting on his patients. Awful stuff, makes lobotomies look like a couple of aspirin." He explains. "Wait, but it was the patients who rioted and went crazy, right?" I step closer to them, now it's me who is confused. "Yeah, they were rioting against dr. Ellicott." Dean answers me. Both me and Sam are looking at him for more answers. "Doctor Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it." Dean continues. I huff. "I'm sure that worked perfectly." I sarcastically imply. "No, it only made it worse and worse and they got angrier and angrier. So, I'm thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? To the cop, the kids in the seventies. Making them so angry they become homicidal." I glance at Sam, who just gives a small huff at that explanation. "C'me on." Dean moves past him, clutching the duffle bag on his shoulder. "We gotta find his bones and torch 'm." Sam turns around, staying right next to me. "How? The police never found his body." He states. "Well, the logbook said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere, where he'd work on his patients. So, I mean if I was a patient, I'd drag his ass down here and do a little work on him myself." Dean looks around, scanning the hall and the walls. Searching for something that could lead to a secret room. "I don't know, that sounds kind of…" Sam's not able to finish his sentence. "Crazy?" Dean grabs a door handle to his right. "Yeah." Sam responds drily. "Yeah. Exactly." Dean opens the door, it creaks loudly. "Well, for crazy we're in the right place." I mutter, stepping around Sam as well. I'm in this now, I might as well try and help my furious brother. If he even lets me do anything else but walk and stand on the sidelines, that is.
Dean steps into the room he just opened and I follow him in. It's a smaller room, completely made out of metal. Old metal, rust covering almost every inch. There's a single cabinet next to the wall, strange looking vials and bottles standing on the shelves. "What the hell is this?" I whisper, stepping forward and squinting my eyes. "Don't touch anything." Dean barks at me. I don't say anything back, although I'd love to tell him that I'm not dumb and know that would be a stupid thing to do.
From the movements behind me, I hear Sam getting into the room as well. Both he and Dean shine their lights through the whole room. Sam raises his arms. "I told you I looked everywhere, I did not find a hidden room." He states. "Well, that's why they call it 'hidden'." Dean protests, his eyes darting across the walls. "Well, I do feel a tiny draft going through here." I mutter matter of factly, turning around to both of them. Dean stops and points his finger at me. We fall silent and listen. There is a high, soft sound of wind coming from somewhere. "You hear that?" Dean asks Sam. He slowly shakes his head. "What?" Dean turns to the wall behind him, while I approach Sam. "There's this windy sound, coming from somewhere." I inform him, frowning when I see his face. He looks off. Something's off. I'm about to ask him if he's okay, when Dean crouches down and shines his light on something. "What is it?" I question, turning around and walking towards him. He glares at me, for a second seeming the doubt what he wants to say to me. I look at him with my eyes as wide, big and as innocent as I can. "Oh, for the love of… Fine. Look." He rolls his eyes, pointing at a wooden plank, close to the floor. There's some space there. "You feel that?" Both of us put our hands out and feel how the wind we heard, is coming from down there. It's very soft, but there. "There's a door here." Dean concludes softly.
"Dean." Sam's voice comes from behind us. Dean automatically looks back at his brother. The way he frowns makes me look back to. My mouth falls open. Sam's just standing there, his own shotgun now up and pointing directly at Dean. A drop of blood falls from his nose, onto his chin. He gives his head a shake, reaching his arm up to wipe it away. "Step back from the door." He then continues, his voice low. Low and weird. Dean rises, his glance going from Sam to the shotgun and then back to Sam. "Sam, put the gun down." He states calmly. "Is that an order?" Sam challenges him. A weird glint has appeared in his eyes and he's making me very uncomfortable. "Sam, why the hell are you…" I don't get to finish my sentence. Before I know it, he points the gun at me. Staring at me with a crazy look in his eyes. "Shut up. You never do, but this time you should. Shut the hell up." He sounds venomous as he speaks to me like that. I am too surprised to even say anything back to him. Never before has he spoken to me like that. Never. When I stay silent, he seems satisfied and turns the shotgun back to Dean, who's staring at him. Just as stunned as I am. "Sam, it's more of a friendly request…" He starts. "Cause I'm gettin pretty tired of taking your orders." Sam continues, raising his arm and pushing the shotgun towards Dean's chest. Dean's eyes darken as he watches Sam, giving a slight huff in recognition. "I knew it. Ellicott did something to you, didn't he." He states. "Ah crap…" I whisper under my breath. It seems that the theory that we just discussed is true and it happened to my brother. Why else would he be pointing a weapon right at Dean's chest, glaring at him vigorously. "For once in your life, just shut your mouth." Sam spits at Dean. Dean doesn't seem that phased. "What are you gonna do, Sam?" He calls out with a steel face. "Gun's filled with rock salt, it's not gonna kill…" The unthinkable happens, right in front of my face. Before Dean can finish his sentence, Sam shoots him. Just plainly shoots him. I let out a terrified scream, watching rock salt hit Dean right in his chest with such power it slams him into the wall. Not just into the wall, through the wall. The wooden door that was clearly there, shatters and Dean flies through it. "DEAN!" I scream in panic, instantly rushing after him. Dean grunts in pain as he crashes to the floor in this hidden room. "No, but it'll hurt like hell." Sam's voice makes me tremble with anger. "What the HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" I scream at him, hovering over my brother. "Oh, God. Dean? Dean, you okay?" I whisper in panic. He seems to be out for a second, before gasping wildly and grasping for his chest. He's in pain, that's clear instantly. "S-Skye, get out of the w-way." He whispers at me urgently, reaching his hand up to weakly push at me. I can hear Sam moving towards us from behind me. "He shot you…" I whimper, my mind not able to process that image. "He's under a s-spell." Dean glances at me, his breathing unstable. I'm sure he must be in quite some pain. "M-move out of the way!" He hisses at me, glancing back up at Sam, who's now standing over him. "Sam! We g-gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over." He calls out to his brother. Right, Ellicott's bones. I hastily scramble away from my brothers, despising the look in Sam's eyes. It's terrifying. Where are the bones?
"You'll be back to normal." Dean cries out once again, still clutching his chest. "The bones…" I hastily look around the small, hidden room we are now in. A large ventilator in the wall across from us. A few cabinets and instruments against the wall. I see no body yet.
"I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time." Sam's voice is way too calm, as he speaks to Dean with hatred in his eyes. Blood is still slightly oozing out of his nose. "I mean, why are we even here? Cause you are following dad's orders like a good little soldier? Cause you always do what he says, without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?" Sam's voice is rising as he hits Dean right where it hurts. Dean can clearly not get up, I'm noticing his struggle. He lets out a strangled sigh. "This is not you talking, Sam." He spits out, squeezing his eyes shut. "That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic, like you." I grit my teeth together. I need to get Sam's attention, so Dean has a chance to get up. "No, you're not pathetic. Just desperate to flee your life, flee your family." I take a step towards him and watch with wide eyes as Sam turns to me, the shotgun never leaving his aim at Dean. "You don't matter, Skye. You never have. We're the men of this family, the ones continuing the legacy. You are just a whiny teenager, a burden. Walking after us like a dog that we can't ditch somewhere." I let out a soft gasp, my chest actually hurting as his words work their way into my mind. I open my mouth to react, but nothing comes out. Dean decides to up the game, clearly sick and tired of this.
"What are you gonna do, Sam? Huh, you gonna kill me? Gonna kill her?" He challenges his brother from his spot on the ground. Sam turns his cold eyes back to him. "You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We are no closer to finding dad today, then we were six months ago." He calls out, slightly panting. In horror, I watch how Dean moves his arm and reaches inside his jacket. "Well, here. Let me make it easier for you." He pants, pulling out his silver gun, resting it on his chest. Sam's staring him down, shotgun aimed right at his face. He frowns, however, when Dean raises the gun in the air, offering it to Sam. "Come on, take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt." I let out a whimper. "Dean!" I cry out for him. He swiftly shakes his head, I know it was meant for me. "Take it!" He challenges Sam, who drops the shotgun at once and grabs the silver gun steady in his hand. "Sam, don't!" Panic is entering my heart. Once again, my cries fall to deaf ears. Dean lies on the floor, defenseless, and Sam points the silver gun right at his head, with as much anger as he can muster. I gasp, slapping my hands in front of my mouth. Please tell me this is not actually happening. Please tell me he's not actually gonna do this.
"You hate me that much?" Dean pants, his voice a slow whisper. "You think you can kill your own brother, in front of your little sister's eyes?" Sam's face is contorted in rage. A kind of rage I've never seen on him, ever before. His hands start trembling. "Well then, go ahead. Pull the trigger." Dean is staring right back at him, into his own gun. "No… NO! SAM!" I lose the last bit of restraint I had, when I see the look of determination entering Sam's eyes. He's gonna do it. He'll shoot Dean, right here and now. He'll kill him. I break out to a sprint, but reach Sam right after he pulls the trigger. A soft click, instead of a loud boom. It confuses both of us, but I don't care. I'd rather go down fighting my own brother, trying to prevent him from killing my other brother, then stand in the corner and just watch. I collide with Sam in full speed, knocking us both off our feet. "SKYE!" I hear Dean's roar, but don't react to it. I land right on top of Sam as he slams into the floor, eyes wide with shock. Shock and fury. "Oh, you think you can fight me, huh?" He challenges me from his position in the floor, his eyes spitting fire. I simply react by pulling my fist back and smashing it into his face as hard as I can. Everything in my body tells me it's wrong and that I shouldn't, but I guess the hurt of what he said to me earlier weighs more than that. My fist collides with his face, smacking it against the tiles. He grunts loudly, eyes squeezed shut. "You little…" He growls. Before I know it, his arm wraps itself around my waist. He gives a strong pull and then smashes me off of him, almost throwing me through the air. I collapse on the tiles, grunting at the pain. I can't react fast enough, Sam's with me in seconds and gives me the same punch I gave him, straight across the face. My head snaps back and I cry out, feeling my teeth go through my lips, tasting the blood. Dean is, thankfully, able to pull himself back up and comes to the rescue. He kicks Sam's legs out from under him, before smashing his fist into his face. Sam goes down twice as hard as I just did, grunting by the sudden surprise and the sudden pain. "You think I'll let you put your hands on her?" Dean's voice is filled with fury. "You think I'll let you hurt her?" He yells out, his voice raw. Sam looks up at him, still not snapping out of whatever is wrong with him. All I see is hatred, as he looks up at Dean. A second later he's no longer able to, cause Dean gives him another hard punch, right to his jaw. And then another. I watch in horror, as Sam loses consciousness, blood streaming across his face.
"Sorry, Sammy." Dean calms down instantly, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder and giving him a soft pat. "Oh, god…" I let out a strangled whimper, slowly trying to get up. I'm shaking all over. "Hey, hey! You okay?" Dean's with me in seconds, grabbing my arm and pulling me up. He winces as he does so, still clutching his chest. "He s-shot you…" I whisper, staring at him. "He actually pulled the t-trigger…" Dean hushes me, instantly wrapping me up in his arms. "A very angry spirit of an evil doctor got ahold of him, Skye." He mutters into my hair. Then he reaches down and gently grabs my chin, turning my head side to side softly. "You knew the gun wasn't loaded." I whisper, finally understanding what that clicking sound was right before I smashed into my brother. "I'm not gonna give him a loaded gun!" He tells me shortly. "He didn't get you too bad, did he?" He then asks me, concern shining in my eyes. "Nahh, this will heal. He can, however, pay for the therapy I'll need after this." I don't know how I managed it, but I'm able to crack a sarcastic joke after everything that just happened. Dean actually snickers, pressing a shaken kiss on my forehead. "Come on, pup. We need to find that body." He releases me, hands me the flashlight that I dropped earlier, and leads the way through the room. "There's nothing here…" I mutter in defeat, glancing around. "There's more here." He tells me, slapping at the curtains and flaps of plastic, indeed showing that the room is larger than I had first thought it was. "Ah, crap…" A surgical table with lots of weird bottles appears in my vision. I don't even want to know what's in those and what they were used for.
I stay close to Dean's side as we search, until I spot a smaller, white cabinet in the corner. One of the only places here where you could literally stuff a body in. "Dean." I hiss, elbowing him softly in his side. "Huh?" He turns around and follows my line of sight. I don't even have to tell him what I saw, he spots it instantly. He shines his light on the cabinet and now I can see that the door is actually slightly ajar. Something is sticking out. "The hell…" Dean whispers softly, taking the lead and approaching the cabinet. He crouches down in front of it. "Stand back." He warns me, grabbing the handle and pulling open the doors. A waft of disgusting air comes out of it and almost makes me throw up. When that didn't do it, the sight of a decomposed body stuffed in there does. I can feel my dinner instantly coming back up and quickly turn around. "Ahh, that's just gross." Dean mutters after the first moment of shock has passed. I stumble towards the wall, needing to get the image out of my head. "Think of flowers." Is Dean's short advise. "Plus, soon you'll only smell fire." He adds drily. "Gahh…" I shake my head, forcing myself back into control. When I turn around, Dean's already throwing salt over the remains of dr. Ellicott. I watch him, until something catches my eye. The flashlight he put on the floor right next to him, flickers softly. Once, then twice. "Dean…" I start apprehensively. "Hold on, almost done…" He hisses to me, pouring gasoline on the body, gagging as he does so.
That's when all goes to hell for the second time. The surgical table at the end of the room springs to life and comes racing towards Dean. "DEAN!" I scream for him, but he can't get away quick enough. The table crashes into him, throwing him away from the cabinet. "DE-…" My breath gets caught in my throat, when suddenly, we're not alone anymore. The actual spirit of dr. Ellicott, looking as horrifying as the white woman did on my first case, has appeared right on top of Dean. His face is mutilated, his skin white grayish, a surgical lamp on his head. Pure death in his eyes. "Don't be afraid…" He mumbles, putting both hands on Dean's face, fingers pressing against his temples. "I'm going to help you…" He continues. Blue light, like electricity, appears from his fingers. Dean cries out, mouth wide open, completely paralyzed. "I'm going to make you all better…" The doctor smirks the most terrifying smirk I've ever seen, putting more vigor in his grip on Dean.
"DEAN!" I hastily look around, my eyes falling on the duffle bag. He already salted the bones of this doctor. He already poured gasoline on the remains. I only have to light it up. Dean's grunts and cries of pain spur me on, push my fear to the back. I sprint to the duffle bag and find the silver lighter he keeps in there. My trembling fingers have a little difficulty lighting it, but when I do, I smash it into the cabinet. The body instantly catches fire and Dean's screams stop. "Dean!" I rush towards him, staring at the spirit of the doctor in terror. He's looking at his hands, the fury still radiating off of him. "Watch out!" Dean pulls me towards him, the spirit of the doctor starting to darken, slowly turning black. And going from black to ash, falling apart before my eyes. "Jesus…" I whisper, staring at the remains, scattered on the floor. Dean lets out a deep breath, sitting up and letting me pull him to his feet. "Even though we are still gonna have that talk… That was good." He puts both his hands on my shoulder, a little pride shining in his eyes. I give him a small smile, it's all that I can muster right now.
A grunt behind us makes us both jolt. Sam's waking up. He lets out a few strained breaths, blinking furiously. "Gahh…" He grabs his jaw, wincing. "You're not gonna try and kill me, right?" Dean pants at him, giving him a wary look. "No…" He whispers back, his voice sounding like him. He seems to be back. "Cause that would be awkward…" Dean sticks out a hand to him and pulls him back to his feet. The silence that rises between us is awkward.
"Come on, Kat and Gavin might still be where we left 'm." Dean beckons us to follow him, stalking away. I'm about to follow him, but Sam stops me. "Hey…" He croaks, putting a hand on my shoulder. I glance up at him. He winces at my look. "Damnit." He grumbles, gently grabbing my chin and turning my head. "God, I'm so sorry, honey." He whispers in a broken voice, looking at the visible damage he did to my face. "You remember what happened?" I ask in surprise. "Yes." He answers shortly. "Well, it wasn't you, right?" I ask him, taking in a sharp breath. "Ellicott got to me." I nod, a little of my anger for him disappearing. "Well, then you have a sharp right." I try to smile at him, even though it's not genuine. Sam doesn't smile back, but simply gives me a tortured look. "Hey! Come on!" Dean's raised voice reaches us and I slowly take Sam's hand off my chin. "Let's go." I tell him, moving past him and walking back out the hidden room.
We find Kat and Gavin exactly where we left him. They're having a hushed conversation when we approach. Dean shortly tells them it's over now, without going into too much detail. We escort them out, thankfully Dean remembers which way even is 'out'.
I let out a deep, relieved breath, when we walk back outside. The morning sun has broken through, the darkness having disappeared. It looks so much better than the darkness I've seen all night.
"Thanks, guys." Kat mutters, inching a little closer to Gavin. "Yeah, thanks." Gavin nods eagerly. "No more haunted asylums, okay?" Dean tells them, his eyebrows slightly raised. Both look at him a little awkward, before turning around and walking back over to their car. Dean turns back as well, slowly starting to approach the impala. "Uh, hey Dean?" Sam lets out a shaky breath. Dean turns to him. "I'm sorry, man. I uh, I said some awful thinks back there." Dean seems surprised. "You remember all that?" He asks. "Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it… But I didn't mean it." His apologetic glance goes from Dean to me. "Any of it." That last part was directly for me. "You didn't, huh?" Dean's reaction is strained. "No, of course not." Sam seems confused by Dean's clear disbelief. I simply glance down. I am not so sure he didn't mean it, either. I am also not so sure he doesn't really hate Dean enough to shoot him. He did it, right in front of me. Yes, he was under Ellicott's influence, but not possessed by him. Ellicott just tapped into his anger, like he did with all the others who died here. Which means a part of it is probably true.
"Do we need to talk about this?" Sam hesitantly stares from me to Dean. Taken aback by our lack of faith in him, at the moment. "No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kind of mood." Dean shuts him down, moving to the passenger door, opening it and throwing the duffle bag back in. "I just wanna get some sleep." He then adds, gently grabbing my arm and pushing me to the passenger door. "Me too." We have, once again, been up all night. I give him a soft smile, entering the car and making myself comfortable in the seat.
The car ride back to the motel is silent. Sam doesn't say anything else, he seems deep in thought. He's sad, I can feel it. Dean's just staring at the road, his jaws have not unclenched yet. I let out a deep sigh and lean my head back.
The beds in the motel room look quite inviting now. I, however, do have a problem. There is no couch here. I shared my bed with Sam yesterday, but I do not have any desire to do that now. Thankfully, Dean seems to understand. "C'me here, let me see that face again." I have no idea if he purposely speaks loud enough so Sam can hear him or not, but I'm too tired to care. I let him examine me. "All right, should just heal on its own. Could've been a lot worse." Dean tells me softly, motioning at the bed he slept in yesterday. I give him a grateful nod, quickly change into more comfortable clothes and crawling under the covers. Dean joins me a few minutes later. He tries to give me as much space as he can, but I'd rather be as close to him as possible right now. I know he'll still yell at me for my stupid actions yesterday, but that's okay. He might feel different about that after he's had some sleep.
I have no idea for how long I've slept, when a distant sound of a phone ringing, wakes me up. I let out a loud, impatient groan. "Dean." Sam grunts from the other bed. No reaction. I'm too sleepy to open my eyes and just listen to the ringing. Sam lets out a sigh and makes a grab for the phone. "Hello?" I hear his sleepy voice grunt into it seconds later. A silence, and then. "Dad..?"