April 3rd - April 8th, 2006

We were still trying to find Dad, so we decided to take a quick pit stop from cases to make some calls to anyone who might have any idea of where he could be.

I usually didn't complain about the motels we stayed in. However, on this particular occasion, the motel room was horrible. Mostly because the entire room was decorated in different shades of red. The beds, the couch, the walls, the lamps, the floor, all red. It honestly didn't matter, but it just amplified the fact that I wanted to get back on the road and search for real clues to find Dad.

Sam was on the phone. "No, Dad was in California last we heard from him. We just thought... he comes to you for 'munitions... maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. Just, call us if you hear anything." He nodded. "Thanks." Then he hung up with a sigh.

Dean looked up from Dad's journal. "Caleb hasn't heard from him?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope. And neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Any other leads in there?"

"No, same as last time I looked." Dean chuckled. "Nothing I can make out... I love the guy, but I swear he writes like friggin' Yoda."

"You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person's," Sam suggested.

"We've talked about this. Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail," Dean said.

Sam sighed. "I don't care anymore."

Dean's phone started buzzing, so he got up and started rummaging through his duffel bag.

"After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean... he should've been there, Dean. You said so yourself. You tried to call him and... nothing," Sam said, trying to state his case.

"I know!" Dean said, frustrated, still rummaging through his bag. "Where the hell is my cellphone?"

"You know, he could be dead for all we know," Sam said.

Dean nearly snapped his neck to look over at Sam. "Don't say that! He's not dead! He's— He's—"

"He's what? He's hiding? He's busy?" Sam asked.

Dean finally found his phone and flipped it open. As he read the text message, a smile grew on his face. "Huh. I don't believe it."

"What?" Sam and I asked in unison.

"It's, uh... It's a text message. It's coordinates," Dean said, looking up from his phone.

Dean quickly walked over to the table and opened his laptop. He sat down and started searching for the coordinate location.

"You think Dad is texting us?" Sam asked.

"He's given us coordinates before," Dean responded.

"The man can barely work a toaster, Dean," Sam said.

Dean looked up from his laptop. "Sam, it's good news! It means he's okay, or alive at least."

"Well, was there a number on the caller ID?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, it said 'unknown.'"

Sam looked disappointed. "Well, where do the coordinates point?"

"That's the interesting part. Rockford, Illinois," Dean said.

"Okay, and that's interesting how?" Sam asked.

"I searched the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this," Dean said, tilting the laptop so Sam could see it. "This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum."

"Okay, I'm not following. What does this have to do with us?" Sam asked, confused.

Dean picked up Dad's journal. "Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal. Let's see..." He flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. "Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths... 'til last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go."

Sam scoffed and got up. "This is a job... Dad wants us to work a job."

"Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there?" Dean suggested.

Sam shook his head. "Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing."

"Who cares! If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!" Dean shouted, angrily.

"This doesn't strike you as weird?" Sam asked, "The texting? The coordinates?"

"Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'." Dean got up, walked to the bed, and started packing his things.

"Oh, thank god. I cannot wait to get out of this place," I said, getting up and packing my bag too.

"What, you don't like the motel I chose?" Dean asked, confused.

"Do you see this room? It's like someone was murdered in here, and they tried to cover it up by putting red everywhere," I said, gesturing to the room.

Dean chuckled. "You've got problems, kid."

"Yeah, well." I shrugged. "What can you do?" I grabbed my bag and walked out to the Impala.


We parked in front of a bar called The Old Terminal Pub, where Sam figured out that Walter Kelly's partner would most likely be. They had this whole good cop bad cop type routine planned out to get the information we needed out of the partner.

"Okay, let's go over the plan one more time," Sam said.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm Nigel Tufnel from The Chicago Tribune. I'm gonna talk to him about answering questions for the newspaper. You're gonna shove me and tell me to quit botherin' the guy. Then you're gonna get what we need outta him."

"Good, I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page," Sam said and walked toward the bar.

Dean shook his head, sighed with frustration, and then followed Sam.

I decided to read while I waited for them to come back out.

After a few minutes, Dean came walking out and leaned up against the side of the Impala. I got out and sat on the hood of the car, and we waited for Sam to come out together.

"Why do you look annoyed?" I asked.

Dean looked over at me. "Huh? I'm not annoyed." He gave me a big cheesy smile.

I reached up, grabbed his face, and shook it. "I know your smile... that's a fake."

Dean smirked and then looked over at Sam, who was now walking out of the bar toward us.

Dean put his hands out. "Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy."

"Oh, that's your problem," I said.

Dean gave me a glare.

Sam smiled. "I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting."

"Huh?" Dean asked.

"Never mind," Sam said and walked over to the passenger door.

Dean turned to face him. "What'd you find out from Gunderson?"

"So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him," Sam said.

"What about at home?" Dean asked.

"He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but it was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids," Sam said.

"All right, so either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him," Dean said, and we all got into the car.

"Right," Sam agreed.

"What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?" Dean asked.

Sam laughed. "A lot."


On the drive to the asylum, Sam explained everything that Gunderson had told him about the place. Apparently, there had been a lot of spirit sightings, and death's in the building. So, people would break into it for a good scare.

We drove around to the back of the building, trying to stay out of sight. Once the car was parked, we got out and walked up to the tall chain-link fence surrounding the asylum. Sam climbed over first. Then Dean helped me climb up to the top, and Sam caught me after I jumped down. Dean followed behind, and then we all walked up the stairs. On the way up, I noticed KEEP OUT and NO TRESPASSING signs covered in graffiti.

The door opened with a creak, and when we walked in, all you could smell was must and mold. The inside of the building was covered in graffiti, and the paint on the walls was peeling off.

"So, apparently, the cops chased the kids here... into the south wing," Sam said, pointing to a door with a South Wing sign above it.

"South wing, huh? Wait a second." Dean flipped open Dad's journal and pointed to the page. "'1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived.' Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place."

"So, whatever's going on, the south wing is the heart of it," Sam said.

"But if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?" Dean asked.

Sam pointed to a broken lock and chain lying in front of the south wing door. "Looks like the doors are usually chained. Could've been chained up for years."

"Yeah, to keep people out. Or to keep something in," Dean said, ominously.

Sam slowly pushed the door open, which caused an eerie creak to echo down the hallway.

Dean turned to me. "You stay close."

I shrugged. "I always do."

He nodded and then pulled out an EMF meter.

Down the hallway were patient rooms, more graffiti, more paint peeling off the wall, and the smell was even worse.

"Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel," Dean joked.

"Dude, enough," Sam snapped.

"I'm serious. You gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you got going on," Dean said.

"I told you, it's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes. Weird dreams," Sam said, angrily.

"Yeah, whatever. Don't ask, don't tell," Dean said.

Sam gestured to the EMF meter. "You get any reading on that thing or not?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope. Of course, it doesn't mean no one's home."

"Spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day," Sam said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, the freaks come out at night."

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

"Hey, Sam, who do you think is the hotter psychic: Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?" Dean joked.

Sam smirked and lightly pushed Dean, causing him to laugh.

We had reached the end of the hallway, which led to what looked almost like a laboratory. The room was disgusting, it looked like it was rotting, there were decaying specimens in jars, leaves all over the floor, and it smelled like something had died.

I covered my nose, and Sam coughed.

Dean looked around the room and whistled. "Man... electro-shock. Lobotomies. They did some twisted stuff to these people. Kinda like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest." He looked back at Sam and me with a giant grin on his face.

When we didn't say anything back, his grin dropped, and he looked disappointed.

Walking around the room, there were operating tables and a chair that looked like some sort of torture device.

Dean walked up to the chair and touched it. "So. What do ya think? Ghosts possessing people?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe it's more like Amityville, or the Smurl hunting."

"Spirits driving them insane." Dean grinned again. "Kinda like my man Jack in The Shining."

"Dean..." Sam sighed. "When are we going to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Dean asked, confused.

I'm glad he asked because I didn't know what Sam was talking about either.

"About the fact, Dad's not here," Sam said.

Dean looked down and then back up at Sam. "Oh. Uh. I see. How 'bout... never."

Sam scoffed. "I'm being serious, man. He sent us here—"

"So am I, Sam," Dean interrupted him. "Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later."

"It doesn't matter what he wants," Sam said.

Dean pointed at Sam's chest. "See. That attitude? Right there? That's why I always got the extra cookie."

"Dad 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 said.

"I understand that Sam, but he's given us an order," Dean said, frustrated.

I backed away from the conversation and walked over to one of the operating tables, it had a headless baby doll on it.

"So, what? We gotta always follow Dad's orders?" Sam asked angrily.

"Of course we do," Dean said.

I picked up the doll by its arm, but when I did, a pile of maggots started squirming around on the table. I flung the doll out of disgust, causing it to hit some beer cans at the end of the table, which made them crash loudly to the floor.

I looked up at my brothers, who had stopped arguing to stare at me. I let out an embarrassed giggle. "Oops."

They both smirked at me.

Dean walked over to a cart and picked up a sign. "'Sanford Ellicott.' You know what we gotta do. We gotta find out more about the south wing. See if something happened here."

Dean decided it would be a good idea to leave and do some research before it got dark. He decided to drive us to a payphone to search through the phonebook for anyone in the town with the name Ellicott.

Sam was able to find a Dr. James Ellicott, he was a psychiatrist. So, Sam called to make an appointment with him. This way, Sam could possibly get answers from him without tipping him off about why we were really in town.


Dean pulled up in front of the Creekview Medical Center and parked. We all got out and walked up to the building, it had a sign with a list of offices on it. Once we found, Dr. James Ellicott, Clinical Psychiatry Office, Sam walked in. Dean and I leaned up against the building, waiting for him to come back out.

Dean and I just stood there, not really saying anything for a while. It had been kind of tense between all of us because Dad still hadn't shown up, and we didn't know if he was ever going to. Sam was right. We had no way of knowing if he was alive or not, and it made me wish he would just reach out and let us know what was going on.

It was close to a half-hour when I finally broke the silence. "So, um. Where do you think Dad is?"

"Oh, no. You're not gonna turn on me too, are you?" Dean asked with a smirk.

"What? No. I'm just wondering if you think we'll ever find him," I said sadly.

Dean knelt, so we were face to face and put his hands on my shoulders. "Look, don't listen to Sammy. Dad's fine, and we're gonna find him. All right?"

"Mm-hmm." I smiled weakly.

Dean ruffled my hair, stood up, and gave me a hug. I smacked him lightly on the back and pointed out that Sam was walking toward us. Sam nudged Dean as he walked by on his way to the car.

Dean caught up to Sam, matching his speed. "Dude! You were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?"

I quickly caught up with them.

Sam shrugged. "Just the hospital, ya know."

"And...?" Dean asked.

"And the south wing? It's where they housed the really hard cases. The psychotics, the criminally insane," Sam said.

"Sounds cozy," Dean said sarcastically.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. And one night in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff. Attacked each other."

"So, the patients took over the asylum?" Dean asked.

"Apparently," Sam said.

"Any deaths?" I asked.

"Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our chief of staff, Ellicott," Sam explained.

"What do ya mean, never recovered?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed. "Cops scoured every inch of the place, but I guess the patients must've... stuffed the bodies somewhere hidden."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "That's grim."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. So, they transferred all the remaining patients and closed the hospital down."

"So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies," Dean said.

"And a bunch of angry spirits," Sam added.

"Good times. Let's check out the hospital tonight," Dean said, and then we all got into the Impala.


Once it was dark, we set off for the asylum. I was actually surprised they didn't make me wait at the motel, so I knew there was a good chance I was going to be able to go in with them. When we got there, Dean parked in the same place as the day before.

Dean turned in his seat to face me. "Maddi, you can come with us, but you know the rule."

"Yup." I nodded, going to open the door when I heard the door lock. "Really?" I asked Dean, rolling my eyes.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"Ugh." I put my hands on my face and dragged them down my cheeks. "Stay close."

"Okay, good." Dean smiled and unlocked the doors.

We all got out, and I walked over to Dean.

I punched him in the arm lightly. "You're so annoying."

"Annoying? Your safety is annoying to you?" Dean asked, very seriously.

Sam climbed over the fence.

"Well, no, but I already know the rule. It's embedded in my head." I laughed.

Dean helped me climb the fence, and I jumped down to Sam. Then he followed behind.

"I'm just trying to make sure it stays there." Dean tapped my head.

We all walked up the stairs to the door.

Sam looked down at me. "If Dad were here, he would do the same thing."

"Oh, no, no. Dad isn't gonna know that she's been coming with us," Dean said.

"Why not?" Sam questioned.

"'Cause if he found out he would kill me," Dean said, putting his arms out.

"Ooo, you are in so much trouble," I teased.

"Not funny," Dean said.

"Oh, come on. It's just a joke. No one will tell Dad." I smiled and looked up at Sam, who didn't say anything. I smacked him in the stomach. "Right, Sam?"

"Oh, oh, yeah," Sam said.

"See? 'Cause Sammy knows that if he said anything, that we would get in trouble too." I smiled and pushed open the door. "So, now, let's get back to the case."

Dean smirked and ruffled my hair.

We all turned our flashlights on and walked in. Dean pulled out his EMF meter, and Sam clicked on his video camera. The place was even more disturbing and creepy at night, and somehow the smell was worse. We walked forward and turned down the south wing hallway.

"Getting readings?" Sam asked, peering over at the EMF meter.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, big time."

"This place is orbing like crazy," Sam said as he used the camera to look around the room.

"Probably multiple spirits out and about," Dean said.

Sam nodded. "And if these unrecovered bodies are causing the haunting—"

"We gotta find 'em and burn 'em. Just be careful though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed-off spirit... is the pissed-off spirit of a psycho killer," Dean said.

We kept walking down the hallway and then heard someone or something moving behind us. We all turned around, shining our flashlights down the hall, but saw nothing, so we decided to continue forward.

Sam opened the door to the creepy laboratory room, and we started searching around. Dean walked into a storage closet area, and I stuck with Sam.

Noises were echoing through the asylum, it definitely felt different than it had before, almost as if the entire building was alive.

Suddenly, I heard Sam gasp. I turned around and saw a small, white-haired woman with a bloody eye hanging out of its socket, approaching us.

Sam grabbed me and pulled me behind him. "Dean? Dean! Shotgun!"

Dean came running out of the back room with his shotgun at the ready.

"No! Wait! Don't!" I yelled.

Dean ignored me and shouted at us, "Get down!"

Sam and I dropped to the ground, and Dean shot at the woman, causing her to disintegrate.

I stood up angrily. "Why did you do that?!"

Dean furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about? She—"

"She had one eye, Dean! This place was evil," I said, putting my arms out. "It looked like she was asking for help."

"She's right, that was weird," Sam added.

"Yeah. You're telling me," Dean said, giving me a strange look.

Sam shook his head. "No, Dean, I mean, it was weird that she didn't attack us."

We walked out of the door on the other side of the room and continued walking down another hallway.

"Looked pretty aggro from where I was standing," Dean said.

"She didn't hurt us. She didn't even try! So, if she didn't wanna hurt us, then what did she want?" Sam asked, trying to explain our point.

As we passed one of the patient rooms, we heard whimpering. Sam shined his light into the room. There was a metal bed, covered in a ragged sheet, lying on its side. As we entered the room, Dean raised his gun, pointing it in the direction of the bed. Sam grabbed the metal frame and flipped it, and a blonde teenage girl spun around, terrified, and gasping.

Dean lowered the shotgun. "It's all right, we're not gonna hurt you. It's okay. What's your name?"

"Katherine... Kat," the girl said, in-between whimpers.

"Okay. I'm Dean, this is Sam, and this is Maddison." Dean pointed to each of us.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked.

"Um... my boyfriend, Gavin..." Kat sniffled.

"Is he here?" Dean asked.

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

"All right. Kat, Come on. Sam's gonna get you out of here, and then we're gonna find your boyfriend," Dean said, walking over to her, grabbing her hand, and trying to lead her out of the room.

Kat pulled away. "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, trying to urge her to leave.

"That's why I gotta find him," Kat said.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, and Sam shrugged.

"All right, I guess we're gonna split up then," Dean said and pointed to Kat and me. "You two with me. Let's go."

"Why can't I go with Sam?" I asked.

"Because then I'll be worrying about both of you. At least if one of you is with me, I'll only have to worry half as much," Dean said, and then put his hand on my back, leading us out of the room.

When we left the room, Sam walked away from us, shining his flashlight around.

The three of us walked down the hallway, passing by a dirty window.

"Gavin! Gavin!" Kat called out.

Dean turned around to face her. "I've got a question for ya. You've seen a lot of horror movies, yeah?"

"I guess so." Kat shrugged.

"Do me a favor. Next time you see one? Pay attention. When someone says a place is haunted... don't go in," Dean said, looking at her very seriously.

Kat was taken aback. "You came in here... with her," she said, pointing to me.

Dean raised his eyebrow. "The difference is... she's with me... someone who knows what they're doing."

He turned around and kept walking, and we followed.

Dean's flashlight started flickering. "You son of a bitch."

Kat and I heard a noise from the windowless cell next to us, and we both turned to look. I felt Dean grab my arm, but it was colder than usual, and then he started squeezing.

"Ow. You're hurting my arm," Kat and I said in unison.

We both snapped our necks to look at each other.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked and quickly turned around.

I looked down and gasped when I saw a dirty hand on each of our forearms, and then we were ripped into the windowless cell, causing me to drop my flashlight. Then the door slammed shut behind us.

The room was pitch black and smelled like rot. I could hear Dean struggling to pull the door open and Kat breathing heavily.

"Lemme out! Please!" Kat screamed and pounded on the door.

I heard metal hitting the door from the outside, and then I saw a man appear and disappear in the corner of the room.

"Kat! Hang on!" Dean yelled, "Maddi! Are you all right?!"

"Yeah, but I think someone is in here with us!" I yelled back.

Kat stopped banging on the door. "What?!"

"Kat, you need to calm down," I said.

"Calm down? Calm down?" She backed up. "Are you kidding me?!"

"I'm sorry, but they're more attracted to someone who's scared," I said, trying to help her calm down.

"Kat! Listen to her. She's right!" Dean yelled through the door, still trying to break through.

Kat kept backing up, grabbing her head, and breathing heavily. A man with a bulged-out eye and greasy hair appeared behind her, and she bumped into him.

She screamed and quickly jumped away from him. "Help me!" She started banging on the door again. "You've gotta get me outta here!"

"Kat, please. He just wants help." I tried to convince her.

I heard Sam's voice through the door, "Kat, it's not gonna hurt you. You both have to face it. And you've gotta calm down."

I looked directly at the man, but he didn't care and just kept approaching Kat.

"They've gotta what?!" Dean yelled.

"Dean, he's right! Just listen!" I yelled.

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

"You look at it! I can't!" Kat yelled at me.

"I did Kat, but he wants to communicate with you," I said.

"No!" she yelled.

"It's the only way to get out of here! Please, Kat," I pleaded.

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

Kat took a few deep breaths and turned her head to face the man, he leaned in and whispered something to her.

The lock clicked open, and the man disappeared. Slowly the door opened by itself, and I saw my brothers standing in the doorway with a teenage boy.

Dean sighed with relief and immediately pulled me into a hug. "Maddison."

"Oh, Kat." The boy sighed and hugged her.

Sam went into the room with a flashlight and came back out, shaking his head.

"137," Kat whispered.

"Sorry?" Dean turned toward her.

"It whispered in my ear," Kat said, "137."

"Room number," Sam and Dean said in unison.

Kat and the boy, I assumed to be Gavin, turned, and held each other.

Sam and Dean crouched down to talk while Dean reorganized his backpack.

"All right," Sam said, "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 suggested.

"I guess we'll find out," Dean said.

"All right," Sam said and stood up.

Dean stood up and walked over to Kat and Gavin. "So, now, are you guys ready to leave this place?"

"That's an understatement," Kat said.

"Okay." Dean turned to Sam. "You get them outta here. I'm gonna go find room 137." Then he started to walk off.

"Wait, can I go with you?" I called to him.

"Yeah, come on," Dean said, putting his hand out for me.

I ran up, grabbed his hand, and then we continued walking down the hallway.

"Ya know, you were pretty good back there," Dean said as he shined a flashlight on the room numbers.

"What are you talking about? I just talked to her, and when Sam got there, he convinced her to listen." I shrugged.

"Yeah, but the point is. You were right about these spirits," Dean said, looking down at me.

I shrugged and then saw the room number. "Dean." I pointed to the room.

He let go of my hand and pushed against the door, using his weight to push whatever was blocking it to the side. The room was a mess, filing cabinets pushed over, papers everywhere, the walls were stained and peeling. We walked in and Dean shined the flashlight around, he flicked through some folders lying on a cabinet, and then kept looking.

I followed Dean around the room, but I tripped over something on the floor and fell.

Dean quickly turned around and helped me up. "Are you okay?" he asked, and he looked me over.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, brushing myself off.

"No, you're not. You cut your knee," Dean said, crouching down to get a better look.

"Dean, stop. It's just a scrape, and I didn't even notice it until you pointed it out," I said as I pushed his hands away from my knee. "You always overreact."

Dean stood up. "I do not."

I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow at him. I stood up and brushed myself off.

"Whatever." He shrugged me off and then turned around. "Hey, look at this." He crouched down and pulled a loose panel off the wall. "Here, take this." He handed me the flashlight.

I shined the light on the wall so he could see what he was doing. Inside was a leather satchel full of papers.

"This is why I get paid the big bucks," Dean said as he pulled the satchel out.

"Okay, first, you would've never noticed that, if it wasn't for me, and second, you don't get paid anything," I said.

"Okay, first, it's not my fault you're a klutz, and second, it's just a saying," Dean mocked and then pulled the papers out of the satchel, placing them down on a table next to us.

I smacked his arm with the back of my hand. "Rude."

He smirked at me and then took the flashlight back to search through the papers.

"'Patients Journal,'" Dean read and then flipped the page.

There were drawings of different tools and how to use them on patients. There were notes written all over and angry scribbles everywhere.

"Well, all work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy," Dean said and looked down at me.

I rolled my eyes. "I get it, you're doing a Jack Nicholson thing. Move on." I elbowed his arm and smirked.

Dean frowned, looking disappointed.

A noise came from the back of the room, causing us both to look over.

"All right, let's go find Sammy. He's gotta be on his way back by now," Dean said.

Dean put the papers back in the satchel and put it over his shoulder, then we both made our way back out of the room. We turned and followed the hallway back to where we had left Sam. Dean went to turn a corner, but he quickly jumped back, pulled me to him, and covered my head. Suddenly, a shotgun went off and shattered on the corner of the wall.

"Damn it, damn it, don't shoot! It's us!" Dean turned around with his hands up.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Kat yelled back.

"Son of a..." Dean said, and we continued around the corner to see Gavin and Kat standing there. "What are you still doing here?! Where's Sam?" Dean asked.

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

Dean shook his head. "I didn't call anybody."

"His cell phone rang. He said it was you," Kat explained.

"Basement, huh?" Dean asked.

Dean grabbed an extra gun out of his bag and put it in his belt. "All right. Watch yourselves... and watch out for us!"


Down in the basement, Dean and I searched around with our flashlights for Sam.

"Sammy? Sam, you down here? Sam? Sam!" Dean yelled out.

We turned the corner, and Sam was standing right in front of us, we both jumped back, and Dean raised his shotgun out of reflex.

Once he realized it was Sam, he lowered the gun. "Man, answer me when I'm calling you! You all right?"

"Yeah. I'm fine," Sam said, almost without personality.

"You know it wasn't me who called your cell, right?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here."

"I think I know who. Dr. Ellicott. That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us," Dean said, "You haven't seen him, have you?"

"No. How do you know it was him?" Sam asked.

"'Cause I found his logbook. Apparently, he was experimenting on his patients, awful stuff. Makes lobotomies look like a couple of aspirin," Dean explained.

"But it was the patients who rioted," Sam said.

"Yeah. They were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Dr. 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. Instead, it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier," Dean said, "So, I'm thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? To the cop? To the kids in the '70s, making them so angry, they become homicidal... come on, we gotta find his bones and torch 'em." He walked around Sam.

"How? The police never found his body," Sam said.

"The logbook said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere where he'd work on his patients. So, if I was a patient, I'd drag his ass down here, do a little work on him myself," Dean said.

Sam shook his head. "I don't know, it sounds kinda—"

"What... crazy?" Dean asked as we walked down the hallway.

"Yeah," Sam said.

"Yeah. Exactly," Dean said as he opened a metal door to another room.

Sam was standing at the end of the hallway not following us, Dean gestured for him to follow, and then Dean and I walked into the room. The room was empty with only a metal shelf in it, Dean shined the flashlight around looking for any clue.

Sam came into the room. "I told you I looked everywhere. I didn't find a hidden room."

"Well, that's why they call it hidden." Dean paused for a second. "You hear that?"

I listened carefully and could hear the subtle whistle of wind blowing through a crack.

"What?" Sam asked, irritated.

Dean crouched down and put his hand in front of a crack, a thin glimmer of light shined through. "There's a door here."

"Dean," Sam said.

I looked up and saw Sam pointing his gun at Dean with a trickle of blood running from his nose.

"Step back from the door," Sam said, aggressively.

I gasped. "What're you doing?"

Dean stood up. "Sam, put the gun down."

"Is that an order?" Sam scoffed.

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

Sam raised the gun to Dean's chest. "'Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders."

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

"For once in your life, just shut your mouth," Sam snarled.

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

Sam shot Dean in the chest, sending him through the hidden door in the wall. I gasped and covered my mouth.

"No. But it'll hurt like hell," Sam said. He walked over to me. "And you. Little Miss Perfect." He grabbed my arm tightly. "You came along, and Dad forgot all about me." Then he shoved me into the room with Dean.

I fell on the ground next to Dean. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing.

I shook him. "Dean! Dean!"

Dean gasped and opened his eyes. "Sam!"

Sam stood over Dean.

"We gotta burn Ellicott's bones, and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal," Dean said, looking around the room.

Sam pointed the shotgun at Dean's chest again. "I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? 'Cause you're following Dad's orders like a good little soldier? Because you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?"

Dean shook his head. "This isn't you talking, Sam."

"That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic, like you," Sam said.

"So, what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill me?" Dean asked.

"You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago," Sam said.

"Well, then here. Let me make it easier for you." Dean pulled out his Smith & Wesson and held it out for Sam to take. "Come on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt." Sam hesitated at first, but Dean urged him. "Take it!"

Sam dropped the shotgun, took the gun, and pointed it at Dean's face. I gasped and felt a tear roll down my face. I felt frozen, all I could do was watch.

"You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead," Dean said, "Pull the trigger. Do it!"

"No." Sam pointed the gun at me. "I'll kill her instead. I'm not doing what you tell me to do anymore, Dean!"

He pulled the trigger, and I closed my eyes, but the gun just clicked, the chamber was empty. I opened my eyes when I realized what had happened, but he pulled the trigger again and got the same outcome.

Dean grabbed Sam's hand, pulled him down, and punched him in the face, causing him to drop to the ground. He stood up and walked over to Sam. "Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded pistol!" Sam looked up, and then Dean punched him in the face again, but this time he knocked him out. He patted Sam on the back. "Sorry, Sammy."

I felt like I was hyperventilating, and the tears just kept falling, I couldn't believe that Sam just held a gun to my face and pulled the trigger.

Dean walked over to me, he was slightly hunched over, clutching his chest. "Maddi... Maddison..."

I didn't look at him. I couldn't focus on anything, but Sam, who was now lying unconscious on the ground in front of me.

Dean put his hands on my face. "Look at me." He shook me lightly, and then I looked him in the eyes. "That isn't Sammy, now I need you to slow your breathing before you pass out."

I nodded slowly.

"Here, do it with me," Dean said, and started inhaling and exhaling slowly.

I followed along and finally got my breathing back to normal.

"Good." Dean stood up and offered me his hand. "Let's find this doctor quick."

I took his hand, and he helped me up.

Dean loaded his pistol and then led me around the room with the gun at the ready. He shined his light on a cabinet, it looked like fuzz was poking out of the side of it. Dean knelt and lowered his gun. Once he opened the closet, a mummified corpse was revealed. The smell was awful, and we both jumped back and gagged.

"Oh, that's just gross," Dean said, covering his face. He reached into his bag and pulled out salt and kerosene. He poured the salt and squirted the kerosene all over the body. "Soak it up."

"Dean, look out!" I yelled as a gurney came flying toward him, but it was too late because he was already knocked to the ground.

Dr. Ellicott appeared and grabbed Dean's face. His fingers started sparking, and then the sparks began surging through Dean's face like the doctor was giving him extremely violent electro-shock therapy. Dean started shaking and gasping.

"Don't be afraid. I'm going to help you. I'm going to make you all better," Dr. Ellicott said as if he actually believed it.

I ran over to Dean's bag, grabbed his lighter, lit it, and threw it on the body.

Dr. Ellicott let go of Dean as the body started to burn. Dean crawled out of the way and watched as Dr. Ellicott's ghost turned black and fell to the ground, crumbling on impact.

Dean flexed his jaw painfully, and then we walked over to Sam, who was now awake and moving.

"You're not going to try and kill us, are ya?" Dean asked.

Sam rubbed his jaw. "No."

"Good. Because that would be awkward," Dean joked.


We went back upstairs to meet Kat and Gavin, who were still waiting where we had left them. Then the five of us made our way outside and over the fence.

"Thanks, guys," Kat said.

Gavin nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

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

They nodded, and then we watched as they walked off to their car. Then we turned and walked to the Impala.

"Hey, guys..." Sam said. We both turned to look at him. He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I said, and did some awful things back there."

"You remember all that?" Dean asked.

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

"You didn't, huh?" Dean asked.

I quickly wiped a tear from my cheek.

"No, of course not... do we need to talk about this?" Sam asked, looking between the two of us.

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

Sam turned to me. "Maddi, I'm so sorry. I never—"

I put my hand up. "Sam, stop. It wasn't you. I know that." I quickly wiped another tear away.

Sam looked at me sadly. "Aw, Maddi..." He walked forward and brought me into a hug, but I pushed out of it quickly.

I just needed some time. I walked over to my door and opened it.

"Maddison..." He looked at me with pleading eyes.

"I don't want to talk about it either." I got into the car.

Sam got in, and then Dean started the car.

I rested my back against the door and laid my legs across the back seat. I could feel Dean watching me in the rear-view mirror as we pulled away.


Ring! Ring!

I woke up, blinking my eyes in the darkness of our motel room.

"Dean... Sam..." I whispered, but they were both still asleep in their beds.

Ring! Ring!

I groaned, but quickly got up and ran over to answer the phone.

"Hello?" I asked.

Then a familiar voice came through the phone, "Peanut? Is that you?"