Thank you to everyone that's read the story so far. I hope you're enjoying it!

3. Asylum

The machete swung through the air. Blood sprayed. One down. The other vampire attacked from the side, shoving me into the wall. I dropped the blade. His fangs descended towards my neck. I swung out with my fists. Left, then right. I kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backwards. Grabbing the machete, I lashed out with it just as he dove for me once more. Blood sprayed. Two down. Done.

I looked down at both of the headless vampires and I beamed with pride. Little me had taken down two vampires! How many seventeen-year-olds could say that?

A high, piercing scream echoed through the rundown house, followed by a desperate, "Help me!"

I knew that voice.

I ran to the corridor. I tried to open the door off to the left but it was the locked. Same with the one on the right. I continued running, turning around the corner, trying every door I passed. None would open. All the while her screams rang out.

"Where are you? I can't find you!" My desperate pleas were swallowed by her crying.

I turned another corner. There was a door at the end of the hall. A river of blood pooled out from below it.

The screaming had stopped.

I moved forward, one slow step at a time. I reached out a hand and turned the handle. The door opened into a black room. Empty apart from her. She was covered in blood, looking me dead in the eye. She raised her arm, pointing at me. "You did this."

Something pierced my neck, sending a burning hot pain through my body. Fangs. I screamed.

I woke up, my breathing laboured. I glanced around the motel room, with its brown walls, brown furniture, and even more brown carpet. I was safe. It was just a dream. Just a dream.

That was a lie.

Dreams, nightmares, I could deal with. That was something else.

I sat up in bed, put my face to my chest, trying my best to steady and calm my breaths. That damn dream had been haunting me since the Bloody Mary case. It had awakened memories, secrets in me that I had tried to bury years ago. For the past few weeks it had been weighing me down. I had been doing anything and everything to try and distract my mind before sleep. Clearly nothing had worked last night.

"Hey baby."

Damn it.

I covered myself with the bed sheet. He may have gotten a glimpse at everything last night but that was then. This was now. "Erm, hey…" Shit. What was his name? Paul, Peter, Patrick?

"Ben," he said.

"Right, Ben. Sorry, I was really drunk last night." No, I wasn't. I just had no need to remember his name. "Everything's a little blurry."

"No worries. I can refresh your memory." He leaned up and started to kiss his way up my arm.

I squirmed away from him, shuffling away on the bed as far as I could without falling off. It was a damn small double bed. "Actually, I should probably go."

"Go? But it's your room?"

"Yeah, so you should also…" I gestured towards the door with my head.

His face was almost comical as he obviously tried to connect the dots and finish the sentence. It really shouldn't have been that hard. "Oh, you want me to go," he eventually realised.

Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner. "Right."

"Ok, sure." He got up, collected his clothes, and started dressing. "If I ask for your number, I don't suppose I'd get it."

I bit my lip and shook my head.

"Ok then, I guess, maybe I'll see you around?" He asked once he was dressed and walking backwards to the door.

"Sure. Maybe." Not likely.

When he left, I fell back on the bed. I didn't venture out to pick guys up every night but there were just times I was sick of feeling alone. Don't get me wrong, I knew it had to be that way, for a number of reasons. But sometimes it just got too much. Especially now, with the nightmares. There was no one to talk to, no one I could talk to. Having a little company, even for the night, helped me feel a little less alone.

But there was something that never failed to clear my head: a good old hunt. Today was a new day and a case was waiting for my attention. I hopped in the shower, dried off, then put on a knee-length floral dress. I needed to put on a show just for a few minutes today. I could suffer wearing a dress for that long. Just. I ripped off the tag from a purse I'd bought at a local thrift store to complete the image. The only things I shoved in there were some tissues and a knife. Always had to have a knife.

Once I was ready, I headed to my truck and began driving towards Rockford Police Station. Two nights ago, a police officer by the name of Walter Kelly, finished his shift, went home, and shot his wife, then himself. Out of the blue. By all accounts he was a decent guy and top cop. After a look around his home late yesterday evening, there were no signs of anything untoward. Not a ghost. Not a demon. Nothing. But a guy like him didn't just turn the gun on his wife and himself for no reason. I was on my way to—hopefully—speak to his partner, Officer Daniel Gunderson.

I pulled up opposite the station and waited. I looked down to the passenger seat and glanced over to the photo I had printed of Gunderson. I knew I was going to burn in hell for what I was about to do, but I needed him to talk to me.

An hour and a half later, he appeared from the station. The poor guy looked broken but appeared as if he was trying to put on a strong face. Here we go.

I grabbed my purse, jumped down from the truck and crossed the road. "Excuse me. Excuse me." He turned around once he heard me. "Are you Daniel Gunderson?"

"Yeah, I am. Who are you?"

"I'm so, so sorry to trouble you. I just wondered if I could have a minute with you. I'm Nicole." I was pretty good at fake crying. Now was the time to make my eyes water. But only a little. I didn't want to oversell it. "I'm one of Walter's cousins." Looking through Walter's family tree, I'd discovered he had a number of cousins, one of them being Nicole, and I prayed Gunderson hadn't met her.

"Oh, um, sure." Gunderson looked as if he wasn't too comfortable with this, but he knew he couldn't turn an innocent-looking, grieving family member away.

We sat down on a bench at the side of the station steps.

"Again, I'm really sorry to trouble you. I just wanted to thank you for all that you did for Walter. He always spoke so highly of you." Yep, definitely going to Hell.

"Nah, that kid did more for me than I did him. He taught me a lot." He choked up. "I can't believe all this."

"I know." I laid my hand against his arm. "It's like a… nightmare. One that we can't wake up from. I just don't understand why. He never would've done something like this." I opened up my purse, took a tissue out and gently dabbed at my eyes. And the Oscar goes to…

"When I left him, he was fine. A little quiet maybe after we got out of the asylum…"

"The asylum?" Warning lights flashed in my mind.

"Oh, the Roosevelt Asylum. It was the last call we took before end of shift. Some kids had wandered in hoping to catch a sight of a ghost or whatever. It's supposed to be haunted, so we've had callouts there before with people trespassing. We searched everywhere. I searched high, he searched low. We eventually found them in the south wing, got 'em out and went home. If I'd known that he was going to go home and do that." Gunderson shook his head before running his palm down his face. His body seemed weighed down with guilt.

"You couldn't have known. Sometimes the demon's within us are really good at hiding. Maybe even he didn't know what he was going to do before it was too late. None of it is your fault." I didn't know if he'd take any of it to heart, but I hoped he was able to heal. I felt bad for what I'd had to do, to play on his emotions like that, and he seemed like a genuinely nice guy. There was nothing more I could say or do. I had a haunted asylum to investigate.

Turned out that Roosevelt Asylum had some interesting history, to say the least. After my talk with Gunderson, I tracked down a local tour guide/history buff, who was all too eager to tell me about the gruesome and frankly inhumane experiments that took place there. According to Fred, aka Mr History Buff, a Dr Ellicott was conducting these experiments on the criminally insane until one day they had enough and rioted. People died, including some of the doctors and nurses, and some of the bodies were never found. It was a spirit paradise. Or Hell, depending on your viewpoint. Mine? This. Was. Awesome. A haunted asylum? You couldn't get more cliché but that was why I loved it. I'd never actually stepped foot in an asylum before, so I hoped this would be fun. As long as I didn't end up dead, of course.

I finished off my strawberry shake as I stashed away the file Fred had given me, under the car seat. It was time to go bust some ghosts. I climbed out of my truck and glanced up at the asylum; it sent shivers down my spine. Not a place I'd want to get trapped in—dead or alive. As I went to grab my backpack with all my hunting gear, a clang shuddered in the silence. Up ahead, a man and a woman were entering through the front doors of the asylum. Great. They definitely weren't hunters and this added a whole other problem to the mix: looked like a couple of dumbasses would need saving in five minutes.

With a groan, I hefted my backpack onto my shoulder, keeping my shotgun, loaded with rock salt, in my hand. I jogged across the road and headed to the entrance the couple had gone through. There was no sign of them in the main hall but if my luck was anything to go by, they'd headed straight to the south wing. A heavy chain glinted in the light of my flashlight. No wonder shit had only just started going down—someone had tried to keep this place locked up tight. I walked through the halls, checking in every room as I went. It was quiet. Eerily quiet, given how haunted this place was supposed to be; it should be crawling with spirits, yet I could've heard a pin drop.

To call out or to not call out? I needed those folks out of there before things got hairy, but I didn't want to alert anything I wanted to stay away. At least not yet. The choice was taken away from me when I heard the guy yell out. I raced down the hall, only to skid to a halt when I saw a gangly puppy standing in front of what was clearly an ex-patient with a bloodied bulging eye and wearing a dirty white gown. She moved towards him, arms reaching up.

"Dean! Shotgun!"

"Sam, get down!" Dean spoke just as I raised my gun. Sam ducked and Dean and I fired at the same time. Within a second, the woman had disintegrated.

I lowered my gun but Dean swung his towards me. I held my hands up. "Hey, don't point that thing at me. Remember what happened the last time you pointed a gun at me?"

Dean and Sam, we meet again. This was becoming a bit too much of a habit. It had only been a few weeks since the Bloody Mary case. Just how often were we going to bump into each other?

Dean lowered his weapon and began gesturing wildly. "Your mother ever tell you not to pop around corners in a haunted-as-hell mental hospital?"

"Nope. Must have missed that lesson."

"Well that's how you get your head blown off."

Sam got back up, brushing himself down. "Hey. How are you doing?"

"I'm good, Sam. I'm guessing you guys are here for the psycho ghosts and not the five-star service."

"Yeah. We got some intel." Sam held up a book. It was some sort of diary and it looked filled to bursting.

"You looked up the history, right? Experiments on the patients, lobotomies, bat-shit crazy doctors." The words were speeding out of me. "You couldn't get a more stereotypical eerie asylum if you tried."

"What is that?" Dean asked, motioning at my face.

I raised my hands to my face. "What?"

"I think it's supposed to be a smile. It looks unnatural. Weird. It doesn't suit you."

In response, I raised a brow then a middle finger. "Jerk."

"Princess. Huh… that suits. I'll stick with that one, Princess." Dean smiled smugly.

"Anyway…" I turned my back to Dean and spoke to Sam. "So get this, there was a cop who came in here a couple of nights ago—"

"Got himself all possessed by some angry spirit, went home, shot his wife, then himself," Dean finished off.

I huffed. "Spoil my fun."

"Seriously, I've never seen you look so… happy," Dean said picking up his bag, which I assumed contained their weapons. "What's wrong with you?"

"Oh come on, this is like a ghost hunter's dream!"

Dean's gazed bounced from me to Sam. "You guys are total nerds."

Sam and I looked at each other, shrugging in response.

"Speaking of angry spirits," Sam said. "Don't you think that was weird?"

"Yeah, Princess being in a good mood is certainly weird." Dean began walking out of the room. I stuck my tongue out at his back.

"No, Dean, I mean it was weird that she didn't attack me." Sam started after him but something fell from the diary, floating to the floor.

"Looked pretty aggro from where I was standing."

The black and white picture was of a man standing with a gun, wearing a uniform and some sort of military beret. He was a lot younger than he would be now, but that face, even years younger, was seared into my brain. I knew this man. How did they know him? Did they— Wait. Dean and Sam. I knew I'd heard those names before. Shit.

"She didn't hurt me," Sam was saying. "She didn't even try! So if she didn't wanna hurt me then what did she want?"

"Hey Sam, this fell out." I held the photo out. My hands trembled slightly. I wanted to throw the damn thing at him in case he saw the shaking.

Sam turned back around. "Oh, thanks." He reached out to take it, then slotted it back into the diary. "My dad would probably kill me if I lost it."

As I said… shit.

"Your dad?" I asked innocently.

Dean wandered back towards us. "What about him?" Suspicion rampant in his voice.

"Nothing. I just, erm, I think I've met him. John Winchester, right?"

"You've met him? When? Where?" Dean marched back over to me; Sam didn't seem to know what to do with the information.

"It was years ago." I shrugged. The less information the better. I really didn't want to start dragging up stuff I'd tried to smother. "I bumped into him is all. He mentioned you both. The names just didn't register with me when we met."

The memories from that day were half a blur and half crystal clear. I wanted to forget every second of it, but something in me wouldn't allow it. When John stepped onto the scene, everything had been a waking nightmare. I'd wanted him to leave me be, to let me die. These days, I didn't know if I still felt the same way.

I needed to change the subject and fast. "Like I said, it was a long time ago." Dean looked at me wearily; Sam seemed to want more answers but was biting his tongue. "But what wasn't a long time ago was the coupe who came in here. Have you seen them? They snuck in just before I did. I haven't been able to find them."

"Goddamnit." Dean shook his head. Crisis averted. "No, we haven't seen them. Guess we got idiots to rescue."

"No need. I've got it under control if you guys want to head off." Right then, I wanted to be far away from the Winchesters and any dregs of the past they brought with them.

But luck wasn't on my side. A crash—something metal falling to the floor—echoed from down the hall. Without a second's thought or hesitation, Dean and I raised our guns and moved towards it, Sam guiding our way with a flashlight.

The sound rang out again. We turned into a room, one just as rotten and decayed as the others. A metal bed was tipped over on its side, covered in a tattered sheet. There was someone, or something, behind it. Sam reached out a wary hand, mine and Dean's guns steady. He tipped the bed over. A woman was huddled in the corner; she spun around, gasping, trembling in fright. It was the woman who'd come in earlier. One down, one to go. I'd said something similar in my dream. I shook off the reminder.

"It's alright, we're not going to hurt you. It's okay. What's your name?" Dean asked.

"Katherine. Kat," she said as she stood on shaky legs.

"Okay. I'm Dean, this is Sam and… Princess."

An eye roll from me.

"Where's the guy you were with earlier?" I asked as I looked around the room. No dead body. That was a good sign.

"Somewhere," she replied. "He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts. I thought it was all just, you know, pretend. I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream and..."

"Alright, Kat. Come on. Princess's gonna get you out of here and then we're gonna find your boyfriend."

"Like hell I am!" I responded as Kat said, "No! No. I'm not going to leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you."

"It's no joke around here, okay? It's dangerous," Dean said.

"That's why I gotta find him."

The three of us hunters looked at one another. She wasn't going to budge and neither was I.

Dean sighed. "Alright, I guess we gonna split up then. Let's go."

"Gavin! Gavin!" Sam called out for Kat's boyfriend as we wandered down the halls. Dean had gone off with Kat. Dean running off with the pretty female? No surprise there.

"I don't know if that's the best thing to be doing." I said as his voice echoed in every direction. Something about it was sending chills down my spine.

"What do you mean?"

"We might attract unwanted attention." Although I wasn't quite sure myself what wanted attention one might find in an abandoned hospital full of out-of-their-minds ghosts.

Sam continued to wave the flashlight around as I kept my shotgun raised in case anything popped up. "Or Gavin might hear us."

"Or… Gavin's as dead as a doornail."

Sam chuckled. "Are you always this positive?"

"Oh, I'm sunshine and rainbows."

We shared a smile before we both focused ahead of us. "Anyway, I think something's up. That ghost could've attacked me. Why didn't she?"

Yeah, that was weird. If it were true, of course. "Looked to me like she was raising her hands to you. We don't know what she was gonna do."

"Maybe. But I—"

There on the floor, a few feet ahead of us, was a prone Gavin. We rushed towards him and Sam crouched down to shake him. He woke up with a start, eyes wide.

"Hey, Gavin. It's okay. We're here to help."

"Who are you?" He asked, breathless as if waking from a nightmare. I knew all about that, buddy.

"My name is Sam. This is Princess" He looked back at me with an 'I'm sorry I said that' wince. "Uh, we found your girlfriend."

"Kat?" Gavin grabbed Sam's hand, who pulled him to his feet. "Is she alright?"

"Yeah. She's worried about you. Are you okay?"

Gavin raised his hand to his head with his own wince. He'd suffered a little cut to the temple. He'd live… as long as a pissed off spirit didn't get him before he got out of there. "I was running. I think I fell."

I stepped forward. "What were you running from?"

Gavin's breathing quickened instantly. His voice quivered. "There was...there was this girl. Her face. It—It… was all messed up."

"Okay listen, did this girl... did she try and hurt you?" Sam asked.

"What? No, she...uh..." Gavin petered off. His breathing evened out as a frown appeared on his face.

"She what?" I asked.

"She...kissed me."

Sam and I looked at one another. I was sure my face mirrored his absolutely bewildered one. What the hell?

"Uh...um..." Sam stuttered. "But...but she didn't hurt you, physically?"

"Dude! She kissed me. I'm scarred for life!"

Yeah, I could understand that.

"Well, trust me, it could have been worse," Sam said. "Now do you remember anything else?"

"She uh, actually, she tried to whisper something in my ear."

"What?" I couldn't say I'd ever heard a ghost trying to pass on a message. At least not verbally.

Gavin shrugged. "I don't know. I ran like hell."

That was not how I'd expected the conversation to go. But maybe Sam was onto something…

As we tried to find our way back to Dean and the damsel in distress, we heard a loud banging. We all set off at a run, Sam leading, and me bringing up the rear—couldn't leave Gavin vulnerable to another smooch from Casper the horny ghost.

We turned the corner to see Dean trying to pry open a door with a crowbar. Safe to say it wasn't budging.

"What's going on?" Sam asked as we reached Dean.

"She's inside with one of them," Dean grunted.

"Help me!" Kat screamed from inside. "Get me outta here!"

"Kat!" Gavin screamed, standing uselessly to the side. There was nothing he could do.

Sam leaned against the door and raised his voice so Kat could hear him. "Kat, it's not going to hurt you. Listen to me. You've got to face it. You've got to calm down."

Dean turned to Sam, astonished. "She's gotta what?!"

"Trust him," I said, laying a hand on his arm.

"I have to what?!" Kat replied.

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

"You face it!"

I couldn't help the small snort at Kat's feisty reply.

"No! It's the only way to get out of there." Sam was sure of his theory. But Kat needed to believe him.

"No!"

"Look at it, come on. You can do it."

After Sam's comment, there was an eerie silence. It lasted an eternity.

"Kat?" Gavin called out.

Nothing.

"Man, I hope you're right about this," Dean muttered to Sam.

"Yeah, me too."

The silence stretched on. She could already be dead on the other side of the door and we wouldn't have known. She could—

The lock on the door clicked and the door creaked open. Kat was standing in the doorway, pale as any ghost I'd ever seen.

"Oh, Kat," Gavin said as she headed for his arms.

Sam and I went in to check the room. Whatever was in there with her had gone.

"One thirty-seven," Kat whispered.

"Sorry?" Dean asked.

Kat took a steadying breath. "It whispered in my ear '137'".

Sam and Dean turned to one another. "Room number."

"Oh!" I squealed, pointing at them. "You did it again!"

The brothers looked at me in confusion.

"Talking in unison. Totally adorable."

The brothers clearly didn't know what to say in response. Dean shook his head and crouched down to retrieve his shotgun. Mine was still locked and loaded.

"Looks like you were right, Sammy." I said with a little pat on his shoulder—I wouldn't have been able to reach up to his head.

He sighed reluctantly, like he knew there was little point in telling me not to call him 'Sammy'. "So if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone..."

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

"Maybe that's what they've been trying to tell us," Sam said.

Dean cocked the gun. "I guess we'll find out." He stood back up and addressed Kat and Gavin. "So, now, are you guys ready to leave this place?"

"That's an understatement," Kat said.

"Okay." He turned to me and Sam. "You get them outta here. I'm going to go find room 137."

"I'm sorry." I held up my hand. "Who put you in charge? I'll go find room 137." I readjusted my back on my shoulder and started off.

Dean mumbled under his breath, "Goddamn stubborn pain in my ass."

I scanned the halls, with a just-as-stubborn Dean at my side.

"Don't think that I don't know," Dean said, out of the blue, as our flashlights waved from one side of the hall to the other.

"Huh? Know what?" I legitimately had no idea what he was talking about.

"You're hiding something. Just like you were hiding something back in Ohio."

I scoffed and came to a stop. Dean turning back to me. "The funny thing about my business Dean: it's just that—my business."

His face was set in hard lines. "Not if it involves my dad."

My heart skipped a beat.

"You didn't think that I'd skip over that little bit about you knowing him, did you?" He asked. "You recognised my dad from a picture when he was in his twenties. He must have made some impression."

I was not having this conversation. Not with him. Not with anyone. Not now. Not ever. Instead, I shone my flashlight at his face. "Move."

"Excuse me?"

"Move." I nodded behind him. "You're standing in front of 137."

I pushed past him and went to open the door. Something was wedging it shut. I leaned back then pushed forward. It opened, slowly but surely. A broken chair had been keeping it shut. But by the state of the room, someone had got in here: it was completely trashed. And it had nothing to do with what time and neglect had done. Filing cabinets had been pushed over and raided, its papers strewn across the floor. The walls were stained with… well, there were no prizes for guessing what was smeared across them. I bent down and started to gather some of the papers. Whatever the spirit had wanted us to know, it had to be in here somewhere.

Dean had wandered over to the other side of the room. The air between us had become frosty and tense, as if we both knew something was brewing beneath the surface. He looked through cabinets and other papers before crouching down by the wall. He pried off a panel and reached into the space between it. He stood up with a satchel in his hands.

"See? This is why I'm in charge." He turned to me, a smirk on his face. "I'm awesome."

"And oh so humble," I muttered, somewhat happy with the brief reprieve from the terse silence. I walked over, looking over his shoulder as he flicked through a journal which had been inside the satchel. It was full of drawings and notes.

"Well, all work and no play makes Doctor Ellicott a very dull boy," Dean said.

"Dull? This shit is awesome as hell. There's nothing in the world more complex than the human brain and whether they were humane or not, all these instruments and procedures tried to solve the very complex—" My words trailed off at Dean's bemused look. "But of course, the guy was a complete nutcase."

"I swear, between you and Sam—"

Something made a noise outside the room. Dean and I went out to investigate, guns once again raised. There was no sign of anyone or, more importantly, anything.

"Time to head back to Sam?" I asked.

Dean only nodded.

We grabbed the satchel. If it was hidden behind the damn wall, it had to have something in it we could use. Then we headed through the asylum, aiming straight for the exit.

Just as we turned the corner, a gun blast shot out. Dean jerked back around the corner, pushing me back and hauling me down. "Damn it, damn it, don't shoot! It's us!"

"Sorry! Sorry," came a timid cry from Kat.

If I'd have gone all throughout a damn asylum without a scratch only to end up being shot by a civilian, I'd have been pissed. Even if the gun was just loaded with rock salt.

"Son of a..." Dean muttered, obviously feeling the same, as we got up and walked over to Gavin and Kat. "What are you still doing here? Where's Sam?"

"He went to the basement," Gavin explained. "You called him."

"I didn't call anybody," Dean said.

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

"Basement, huh?" Dean and I looked at one another. Something was up. And it wasn't good.

Dean turned to me and gave me the satchel. "Alright, you stay here. No arguing!" He said as I opened my mouth. "Watch yourselves... and watch out for me!" Dean said, pointedly looking at Kat before heading off to find his brother.

"FYI, I'm more likely to shoot if it is you!" I called after him. I turned to look back at the couple. "So… date night, huh?" I focused on Gavin, shaking my head. "That was a really dumb idea."

He gave an exaggerated shrug and Kat looked unimpressed. Young love. What a mess.

I leaned against the wall, not tearing my eyes from the corridor ahead of us. I should have followed Dean down to that basement. Something was looming. But what? What was special down—

"I searched high, he searched low," Gunderson had said.

Low. The basement.

Shit.

Sam.

"Here," I said, throwing my bag to Gavin. He stumbled back as he caught it. "Take whatever weapons you need. I gotta go."

Whatever had happened to that cop, had happened in the basement. And Sam had lured Dean down there. I ran, throwing myself around corners, not bothering to aim my gun for anything that might come for me. When I got to the basement door, I swung it opened and all but hurtled myself down the stairs. I could hear voices coming from a room at the end of the dark hall. I could hardly see a thing, but I could hear distant voices and I aimed straight for them.

"Dean!" I called out as I ran. "I don't think that's…" I got to the doorway, finding the brothers at opposite sides of the small room. "…Sam. But I guess you figured that out."

Sam stood holding his gun right at Dean. His head turned slowly to me, keeping the gun where it was. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the lost little lamb come to play with the wolves."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? It didn't matter though. That wasn't Sam. Whatever, whoever, had possessed the cop, was now in control of Sam.

"Let me finish my conversation with my brother, and I'll get right back to you," Sam said with a sickening smile.

"Get out of here, short stack," Dean ordered, his back to the wall. "And you leave her alone, this is between you and me."

"Is that an order?" 'Sam' asked.

"Nah, it's more of a friendly request."

Sam raised his gun a little higher. "'Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders."

I had to do something but my hands were tied: I couldn't hurt Sam.

"I knew it," Dean said. "Ellicott did something to you."

"For once in your life, just shut your mouth." Wise words from a fucked up, psycho ghost.

"What are you gonna do, Sam? Gun's filled with rock salt. It's not gonna kill me."

Even I knew that was the wrong thing to say. The shot from the gun blasted Dean back. He flew through the wall, opening up an entrance to a hidden room.

"Dean!" I lunged towards Sam as he dived for Dean. I grabbed hold of the gun. We struggled over it. I kicked out at his shin. He groaned but it wasn't enough to drop him to the floor. He was strong. I let go of the gun. He stumbled, not expecting the shift in weight. I threw a punch at his face. He barely reacted but he moved his head enough so that I could get my arms around his neck. I squeezed. If I could just get him to pass out…

He wrenched upwards, sending me flying into the wall. My head bounced off of it.

Everything went black.

A crash of metal. My head was pounding. Damn, how much had I had to drink? I opened my eyes, my vision a little hazy. Thankfully it wasn't too bright. I lifted my head to see a gurney fly across the room, knocking Dean to the ground.

Oh, yeah. Asylum. Ghosts. Brothers. Right.

I pushed myself up, my legs just about able to hold me up once I leaned against the wall.

All of a sudden, a spirit dressed in a white lab coat appeared on top of Dean, hands going to his head. Blue sparks flared from his fingers. Dean screamed. Shit. That had to be Doctor Ellicott. Is stumbled towards them. A grisly, rotting corpse was stuffed into a cupboard behind where Dean lay. The original doctor.

I lunged for Dean's bag, the doctor unaware of my appearance. I fumbled through it until I found what I was looking for. I flicked open the lighter and threw it onto the corpse.

Doctor Ellicott instantly stood up, staring at his hands. His body began decaying until it couldn't keep upright anymore. He crumbled away.

I sat back down, my body no longer able to stand either. Sam was pushing himself up off the floor. I hadn't even seen him there. I cleared my throat. "So… what did I miss?"

"Thanks guys."

"Yeah. Thanks," Gavin said as we gathered outside the asylum. The sun was thankfully already rising but so was the pain in my head. I needed aspirin. Stat.

"No more haunted asylums, okay?" Dean said.

Kat and Gavin walked towards their car. Something told me they wouldn't be making a repeat visit.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam said. "I'm sorry, man. I said some awful things back there."

What had I missed? The brothers hadn't been all that forthcoming with information. All I knew was that there was a certain tension lingering between them.

"You remember all that?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it, any of it."

"You didn't, huh?"

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

Dean started over towards his car. Sam and I trailed behind him. My car was parked on the other side of the building. Maybe if I tried real hard, I could make it without collapsing like a wet noodle.

"No," Dean said. "I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep."

"I guess that's my cue to hightail it outta here. No doubt I'll unfortunately see you two around." I rubbed the back of my head. I was sure there was a bump making itself known. The reminder of tonight would no doubt stay with me for a couple of days.

"That's probably not a good idea," Sam said with a cautious look at my head. "You've probably got a concussion. And I'm guessing that's my fault. I'm sorry."

"You're handing out apologies like cookies. It wasn't you. No worries." And I meant it. Sam seemed like one of the good ones. And they were rare these days. I didn't want him carrying some ridiculous guilt over this.

"Still," Sam said. "Maybe you should stay with us for a few more hours. You can get some sleep, and we can wake you up every now and then. I'd rather be safe than sorry, wouldn't you?"

Dean coughed. "Who's this 'we' you're talkin' about?"

Sam ignored him, instead holding his hand out to me. "Come on, I'll drive your truck over to the motel."

If not for the raging headache, I would have said no and been on my way. But I really needed sleep.

"Ok." I handed over my keys while Dean climbed into his car, shaking his head. He started up the Impala and drove off.

Sam and I rode in silence in the car. He was likely mulling over whatever had happened while I'd been knocked out. Me? I wasn't thinking about anything. It hurt to think.

We pulled into the motel parking lot mere seconds after Dean. None of us got anything out of our cars, instead just wanting to head straight for bed. The room had two twin beds and a couch.

"You can take the bed, I'll take the couch," Sam offered.

"Not a chance. You're what, thirteen feet tall? You'll never fit on that thing. The couch is just my size." I sat down on it before Sam could argue any further.

As Dean passed by me, he said low enough that Sam wouldn't have been able to hear, "We still need to have a conversation."

"Great. Can't wait." I laid down, turning my back to the room. I was asleep within seconds.

"Names? What names, Dad—talk to me, tell me what's going on."

I was rudely awoken by someone daring to talk. Throughout the day, Sam had woken me up to check I was still alive. Yep, I was alive. And now I was annoyed. Luckily, the pain in my head had faded to a dull ache.

"No. Alright? No way."

I stretched, yawning as I did. I sat up to look over at the beds. Both Sam and Dean were up, with serious expressions on their faces. Sam was on the phone.

Dean reached his hand out to Sam. "Give me the phone." Not waiting a second longer, he snatched it from him. "Dad, it's me."

It was John? My stomach rolled at the invasion of the memories his name caused. It was time for me to go.

"Where are you?" Dean asked. "Yes, sir… Uh, yeah, I got a pen. What are their names? Ok, we got it." He ended the phone call. "We've gotta move."

They both got up, scrambling to pick up the things they'd removed from their pockets last night, though Sam's face looked like he had a few things he wanted to say but was holding them back behind his locked jaw. He turned to me—one of them finally remembering my presence. "Hey, we've got some family stuff to take care of. You gonna be ok?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'll follow you guys out to the highway, then go my own way."

We left the room and Sam went to return the key. Dean hadn't said much, hadn't said anything, after getting off the phone with John. His dad was obviously a touchy subject. I certainly wasn't going to bring him up.

The sun had set once more. The boys were driving ahead of me, the red taillights of their car a fair distance ahead of me. We were winding through deserted roads, making our way to the nearest highway. I wasn't sure where I was going to head to next, all I knew was that I'd be turning in the opposite direction to the Winchesters when we got to the main road.

Winchesters. It was some damn coincidence, or more likely, my serious bad luck that I'd run into John's boys on a hunt. Not only that, they kept on popping up in my life. Hopefully this was going to be the last time because Dean wasn't going to forget about the conversation he wanted us to have.

Up ahead, Dean pulled over to the side of the road. I caught up with them and pulled up behind the car. Was something wrong?

Sam got out of the car and stormed around to the trunk. I got out too. "Sam?"

He opened the trunk and began pulling out bags. Dean emerged from the car, his face like thunder. "You're a selfish bastard, you know that? You just do whatever you want. Don't care what anybody thinks."

Oh, this was not good.

"That's what you really think?" Sam asked.

"Yes, it is." Dean stood toe to toe with his brother. If they started swinging at each other…

Sam scoffed. "Well, then this selfish bastard is going to California." He slung his bags over his shoulders and started to walk away.

"Come on, you're not serious."

"I am serious."

As Sam approached me, I stepped towards him. "Sam…"

He stopped and smiled, but it wasn't one of happiness. He was hurt. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Take care of yourself." With that, he continued on past me

"It's the middle of the night!" Dean called out. "Hey, I'm taking off. I will leave your ass, you hear me?"

"That's what I want you to do!" Sam just kept walking.

I spun towards Dean, storming over to him. "You're not actually going to leave your brother, are you? We're in the middle of nowhere!"

"And what's it got to do with you?!" He'd raised his voice. "Why do you have to get involved? Huh? You're not family. Not a friend. Just a lonely girl that keeps following us around. You know nothing about me or my brother, so stay out of it."

If he wanted to take his anger out on me… fine. But I didn't have to stand there and take it. I wasn't going to let him see that his words had stung—they'd stung more than they should have. They'd hurt.

Without a word, I got back in my car and drove off.

Screw Dean Winchester.