Chapter 5
If we don't stop somewhere, if we don't accept an unhappy compromise, unhappy for both sides, if we don't learn how to unhappily coexist and contain our burned sense of injustice - if we don't learn how to do that, we end up in a domed state.
(Amos Oz)
Wednesday. Allison Campbell. Deceased in March 1932 in a car accident. Apparently she had been driving on the wrong side of the road and had crashed into an oncoming vehicle. Authorities had not excluded suicide, but hadn't been able to prove it. Shortly before she had left her husband, who had testified, that she had been unhappy about the fact, that they hadn't had children and for her advanced age probably never would have. There had been a fight and then Allison had left their home crying and driven away with the car.
Dean was sitting in the archive of the local library, two dozens age-old books overlapped themselves in front of him on the big oak table, a golden lamp giving light. This woman had to have something to do with the children's disappearance in this city. Not this woman in the classical meaning, but what was left of her. He believed, that she as a ghost was repeating her actions of the time she had been alive. Nobody had ever been able to evidence it, but there was a definite reason to assume, that Allison Campbell, when she had still been alive, had kidnapped children and killed them. Reports said the first child had disappeared in January 1931 and had never been found. More precisely on the 13. January 1931, Allison's fortieths birthday. And every month another child had disappeared. All of them last had been seen on the same playground, and Allison had been seen there as well every single time. The same playground the children disappeared off this time. Although she had never been seen with one of the children back in the day. Also for that the responsible police of their time had never been able to prove that she had had something to do with it.
It was almost a shot in the dark, but Dean was sure, that Campbell had realized on her fortieth birthday, that her wish for a baby would never be fulfilled. That had probably made her have a short fuse, and likely for jealousy, maybe even anger over the injustice and the lost time she would never have gotten back, she had begrudged other people their children. Maybe she had just wanted people to know how she feels. And because she hadn't been able to stand a world, where she wouldn't have children, she had killed herself. And because she also hadn't been able to stand leaving a world, where she didn't have children, she had kept back and in the end become a soul that was banned to stay here forever.
Ghosts were an easy thing for a Winchester. Find the grave, salt the bones and burn them. Case closed. The only problem was, that Allison Campbell wasn't lying in a usual grave. For many people of this city had been believing even without evidence, that she had been kidnapping these children, the authorities had decided to bury her in an unmarked grave to avoid grave desecration. That time a common practice. Castiel was on the search for said grave at the moment and was flying to all the cemeteries nearby to find it.
Enough of research and already in the dark Dean found back to his motel. Tiredly he rubbed his aching neck and gave himself a sip of Scotch that was to caress his soul and calm his body. Sleep was good, when his blood turned to alcohol. As he was stripping his heavy boots off his feet, he heard an akin, but unexpected sound, far too loud inside the tone-free room. Somebody knocked.
Soft like a cat he tiptoed across the room and soundlessly unlocked his gun. Barely allowed himself to breathe, to blink, tense and interested. There could have been anything behind this door. And there were only few people that felt well-disposed towards him. Quiet and carefully he pushed the barrel of his gun against the door's wood and freed the chain from its bracing. Slowly he turned the doorknob and opened the room, always ready to shoot the potential attacker through the wood.
But he instantly let fall his tension as well as his protection, when he found Castiel outside. His grab loosened and he stepped aside to let him in, baffled and surprised. He didn't remember ever having seen the angel knock on a door. Far too untypical and almost human. A bad film that didn't make any sense and mixed it all up. Peaceful quietness lay itself back onto everything and Dean fell onto his bed exhaustedly, a last thought for the day crossing his mind, something new that quieted down dusty memories.