Okay, in this chapter the actual story behind the Winchester Mansion is introduced – I'm aware that nothing was mentioned throughout the entire first part, but that was just more of an introduction. This is where the story begins! (Note: though this is completely based on a true story, any additional details regarding Sam and Dean or the employees in the Mystery House are made up by me...I hope that's not a crime. Don't sue me!


"Why do we have to be here, Sammy?" moaned Dean.

"Are you serious, man? We're HERE to figure out why I've been having those weird dreams about the Winchester Mansion, dude. Something strange is going on there...I just feel like something bad is going to happen, and soon."

"Are you a complete moron, Sammy? I didn't mean why are we here, I MEANT," emphasized the elder brother, "why are we HERE?" he gestured emphatically to the features of the motel room in which they were currently situated. "This place is a freakin' dump. It looks like that torture chamber we saw in Salem that time."

Just as Dean finished talking, a trickle of liquid from the ceiling above the bed dripped onto his face. Dean let out a yell of surprise and sat bolt upright, grimacing.

"Relax, dude!" laughed Sam, clearly amused. "It's just water."

"That," answered Dean, spitting onto the carpet, "was definitely NOT water. I tasted it. It was more like cat urine."

"And have you tasted cat urine?" challenged Sam.

"Shut up, Sammy. Say any more and I'll murder you in your sleep."

"Go ahead, Dean, but you know I'll haunt your ass."

"Whatever, man."

However fond Dean Winchester was of complaining, it couldn't be denied, even by Sam, that the room was awful. The wooden bed frames were decomposing, the stained and soiled mattresses couldn't have been more than six inches thick, the carpeting was covered with mysterious, dark splotches, and the room smelled strongly of onions. Upon further investigation, the two brothers also discovered that the TV only got two clear channels, the toilet barely flushed, and moths took residence in the ancient curtains.

Sam was jolted from a slight daze by another yelp from his older sibling.

"Aww, man! That's just not right! I am SO sleeping on the floor tonight." Dean's face was contorted into a look of revulsion as he gazed at his new discovery, found beneath the bed sheets.

"What is it now, Dean?" sighed Sam. "A cockroach? I've told you before, dude, they won't hurt you."

"Shut up, Sam! It's not a cockroach."

"Then what is it?"

"It's a condom."

"Oh, gross!"

"Yeah, I know, man. I can't sleep here now, because I'll imagine a fugly couple getting it on."

"That's what you're worried about, Dean? What about the disgusting germs all over that thing?"

"Dude, that vision is worse. There are some things you just don't want to see."

"Fine," answered Sam. Sleep on the floor – but it's probably just as bad."

"I don't care," replied Dean, throwing his pillow indignantly on the ground and laying on top of it. "At least I don't know about it."

"Either stop complaining now or get us another room."

"Sammy, you know we can't afford anything else here! California is freakin' expensive!"

"I know, Dean. I just wanted to hear you say it. We can't leave, so we just have to deal, ok? Just deal with it."

"Jeez, man, don't jump all over me. You gotta admit, this place sucks ass."

"I know...I guess I'm just a little stressed. This whole deal with the mansion has me freaked out...I mean, I keep seeing the place in my dreams, and that poor guy dying over and over again. But what's the point, you know? We came all the way here and it was too late. He was already dead. What am I supposed to do about it? We should leave, I guess, but I just have this feeling that we need to check it out."

"Sammy, he fell out of a window. There are no signs of that being supernatural at all. From what we've heard, nothing else has ever happened at this mansion. There's been repots of hauntings, but they're all benign. no freaky accidents, no mysterious deaths...no NOTHING. The place has daily visitors, Sam, and the worst they've reported is seeing an apparition. Face it – that Tommy guy probably committed suicide."

"I know all that, man. I guess it makes sense – but I SAW it happen. The man looked terrified, Dean. Something was there with him that made him jump. There has to be a reason I'm having these visions. Whenever it's happened before, I've always had some connection to the victim, or...THE HOUSE! Dean, don't you think it's weird that the house happens to be named 'Winchester?' Maybe that's my...our...connection to the place!"

"I hate to break it to you, Sammy, but 'Winchester' isn't exactly an uncommon name. There must be a million Winchester mansions in the world."

"Yeah, but this one is different. I don't know much about it, but I do know that Mrs. Winchester only built the mansion because 'the spirits told her to do it.' That's definitely up our alley. Maybe she's, like, our great great aunt or something."

"That's a freakishly huge jump you just made there, little bro. I think we still need to find out."

"WE?" retorted Sam. "You mean YOU, remember?"

"But my laptop-"

"Your laptop is fine, dude. I just re-charged the battery."

Dean tried and failed to make himself look both surprised and grateful at this information.

"Thanks, man," he replied quietly, looking at the floor.

Sam smirked at him. "You know, for some reason I'm getting the strange feeling that you knew what was wrong the entire time. Come on, Dean-your computer 'freaked out on you?' A dead battery doesn't exactly qualify as 'freaking out.'"

"I swear, man-" began Dean. He stopped abruptly at the look on Sam's face. There was no use trying to argue.

Sam laughed. "You've got some serous research to do tonight, Dean."

"I warned you, Sam," said Dean, "and you chose to continue berating me. Yeah, I'm definitely gonna smother you in your sleep."

"'Berating'?" quoted Sam. "Nice vocab, bro."

"Shut up," replied Dean, walking across the room to the small table where the computer sat.

Sam threw a pillow and blanket on the floor (apparently taking Dean's advice regarding the wisdom of sleeping on the bed), and lounged back, turning on the blurry television screen.

"Ahh...this is nice, huh?" he gave Dean a wink across the room, receiving a deadly glare from his brother. "Yeah, I could get used to this. Hey, it looks like the only channel we get is CMT. Is country music all right with you, Dean?"

Dean said nothing, but merely continued his research. He was going to kill Sam.

TBC


Again, I'll update soon – if you review, that is!