Careful What You Wish For
Chapter Two
When is a Convent, not a Convent?
Savannah, Georgia
"So a church, and a hospital?" Sam looked up at the two buildings as Dean eased the Impala into a parking spot.
"Can nurses even be hot if they're nuns?" Dean scowled at the church. This case was already ranking high on his too-much-effort list. They had literally nothing to go on yet, no leads, no idea where this girl would even have ended up. Hoping she was here with her mother was a long shot. Dean rubbed his face and heaved a sigh as he twisted the ignition off.
Sam just rolled his eyes and straightened his tie. One good thing about Savannah was there were plenty of abandoned homes around. After crashing in one last night after nearly twenty hours of driving, the two of them felt at least slightly refreshed. Sam still thought he looked rumpled, and while Dean could pull off that look well, it didn't fit as well around his own lanky frame.
"We ready to do this?" Dean asked breaking the silence.
"Are we ever ready for crazy?" Sam pushed the door open, and slid out of the car. Looking over the top of the Impala, he studied the church carefully. "You want the hospital?"
"And let you into a church? Sorry, Sammy, you get the crazy digs this time." Dean flashed him a smile, and straightened his own tie. "Let's get our agent on."
Dean didn't even pause as he sauntered off towards the church. Sam sighed. At least it was a sign of trust, stepping away and letting him work part of the job on his own. They crossed the parking lot in vaguely opposite directions. Both buildings seemed to have been standing since antebellum Savannah, gorgeous edifices of architecture and history. Sam wished, as he often did, that he could have come here on different business. Just inside the foyer was a small reception desk, where a pretty young girl sat waiting expectantly.
Sam found his smile, and leaned slightly on the counter. He didn't want to use his badge unless he absolutely had to, where he could picture Dean flashing his badge around easily inside the church's stone edifice. After a few moments, he had the receptionist's attention, and was asking to see Mrs. Daphne Druin.
She punched a few things into her computer and frowned thoughtfully.
"I'm sorry, sir, but it says here, Mrs. Druin isn't allowed visitors outside the family members." She raised her eyes to him. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"Hmmm," Sam reached slowly into his breast pocket, pulling out his FBI fold. "I'm really sorry, but you're going to have to let me see Daphne Druin."
She drew breath to protest before looking up, but once she caught sight of the badge, she hesitated. Instead of answering him right away, she grabbed the phone, and punched a few quick numbers into it. Her tone was practiced low, and Sam couldn't hear what she was saying. When she returned the phone to the cradle, she held up a few fingers.
"One moment please."
Scrawling down a few things on a piece of paper, she held it up to him. As he took it, she caught his hand. Something in her eyes caused him to pause, to look back at her, and really take in her expression. She was panicked. A deep furrow appeared between his brows, and he looked down at the note in his hand.
Rm 212. Be Careful.
By the time he looked back up; her attention was back on the computer, and her fingers where flying across the keyboard. Sam wondered just how badly Dean's paranoia was rubbing off on him. Usually, Sam advocated trusting others, while Dean strictly trusted his own instincts. Turning away from the reception desk, he looked around until he spotted a sign for the elevators. On his way down the hall, he spotted a door advocating for stairs. On a whim, he shirked the automated path for the manual one, and pushed his way through the door.
It was obviously a path that was not often used. He smelled only musty concrete, and the light on the first floor landing was burnt out. When he finally stood in front of the second floor door, he thought he understood why a mental hospital would have a receptionist that warned visitors to be careful. The sounds of distress filtering through the heavy fire-door were enough to cause gooseflesh raise along his arms. He braced himself for the worst, before pushing the door open.
Instantly, the moaning cries and muffled wailing faded away into the pristine silence of a hospital. Thoroughly bewildered, Sam lingered as the door swung shut behind him with a hydraulic hiss. The noise shook him from his stupor, and after looking both ways down the white hall, he chocked it up to his over-active imagination. Picking a direction, he started reading off room numbers.
After about twenty feet, he passed a nurse's station. The nurses wore the traditional scrubs, some brightly colored, others with cute cartoon creatures on them, they all had one thing in common: their hair was covered by the black and white of a nun's habit. After a few moments, the three of them turned to regard Sam questioningly.
For a brief moment, he thought he saw recognition flicker in one of their gazes. Nervous for a moment, Sam cleared his throat, and produced his badge, trusting his reflex to work magic. "Can any of you direct me to room two-twelve?"
"Certainly," the youngest of the bunch chimed brightly. "Just down that hall, to the left. You can't miss it!"
Something was wrong with the tableau before him, but Sam just couldn't quite put his finger on it. Flashing them a smile of thanks, he headed down the indicated hallway. After a few steps, he realized what they'd meant. Paintings covered the walls, most of them framed, but some of them simply tacked up with thumbpins, or taped directly to the mouldings. Each and every one of them depicted the same, winged man. An angel. And in the corner of each painting was scrawled a single Enochian sigil. He recognized them from the lessons that Castiel had put them both through, as sigils of protection. Someone was intent on keeping angels out of the hospital.
Sensing eyes on him, Sam glanced backwards, and spotted one of the three nurses standing at the entrance to the hall, as though she were waiting for something. After a moment, she turned away and walked out of view. Creepy. Dean needed to know about this. Digging in his pocket for his Blackberry, Sam kept heading down the hall.
There was a single door at the end, mostly steel like the other doors in the hospital. But this one had a small glass window, in which hung a crucifix. With his phone in one hand, he scrolled through the numbers until he pulled up the entry for his brother. Just as he was about to hit send, the phone began to buzz in his fingers.
Dean was calling him.
"I was just abo-"
"Sammy, there is something seriously wrong here!" Dean sounded out of breath, like he'd run a marathon recently.
Sam stopped short, standing just before the doorway to Room 212. "Huh?" he asked numbly. Dean had that feeling too? Sam winced, and looked back down the hallway once more. Instead of one nurse, there were all three.
"The hospital's on lockdown. I can't get in." Dean growled on the other end of the phone. There was a huff, and a bang, presumably meaning that Dean had tried to knock a door in. "Church'd be better as a mausoleum."
Sam backed slowly until he felt the wall behind him. At least one side of him was protected. "You mean? Dead?" Dean didn't hear him, as he was beating away again at the doors. A string of curses filtered over the phone towards Sam. Dropping the phone from his ear, he looked back up at the gathered nurses.
The youngest of them, the one with the cheerful voice, smiled maliciously, and in doing so, her eyes flicked completely black. Sam's stomach dropped out from beneath him. What were the chances that all of this was merely coincidental? If he'd ever learned one thing, it was that nothing was coincidence. Sam was already start to take stock of his situation, half listening to the sounds of Dean trying to beat down a door, any door, when the door to room 212 began to open.
Swearing under his breath, Sam tried to maneuver so he could watch the door, as well as the trio of demons at the end of the hall. Instead of a threat, he found a small piece of paper being waved at him. Through the crack in the door, he could spot greenish eyes, and half of a crooked smile.
"Martin? Martin, be a dear and put this on the door?" Her voice was shaky, and reedy, as she waved the paper again.
Sam, seeing no other course to take, accepted the paper, and unfolded it. There was already a small piece of tape attached to the top, so all he had to do was tack it to the door. With a slap, he did just that; only to hear a collective hiss go up from the demon. Looking at the sigil he just pasted to the door, he wondered just what it meant. Like the ones scrawled on the paintings, this one was Enochian as well. Just as Sam was about to put the phone back to his ear, the door swung open wide enough for the woman within to grab Sam's arm, and yank him inside.
"Martin! Seriously, what are you doing fooling around out there, when there's so much to do in here!" Daphne Druin was short and willowy. If Sam hadn't known she had a nineteen-year-old daughter, he would have easily put her barely into her thirties. But recalling his research, Daphne would be nearly 46 by now.
"SAMMY?" His phone crackled with the strength of Dean's shout, and Sam jumped a mile.
"Easy, I'm okay. I'm with Mrs. Druin." Sam stared at the woman as she dusted off her apron. The room was full of canvases, some set up on easels, while others were just lying helter skelter around the perimeter. He realized that he was standing in a small suite, with doors leading to other rooms, all closed at the moment. "Keep trying to find a way in, Dean, there's at least three demons in here... maybe more. But... I-"
Daphne began to cluck at him, waving her paint-marked apron like a sheet. "You're not supposed to run off, Martin; you said yourself it's dangerous out there! Just think of what would happen to Kay if you got hurt!"
Sam stumbled out a good-luck to Dean, before shutting out the conversation. There was just too much going on. "Kayla's here?" If she thought he was her deceased husband, maybe he could play along and get some answers. "Can I see her?"
"Of course Kay's here, silly goose!" Daphne laughed, a warm inviting sound. She moved through the room to a small bassinet in the corner. Sam palmed his face as she lifted a small, dark-haired doll out from the crib. "See?" Daphne rocked and cooed at the doll, carrying it just like a real baby. She bounced the baby doll in her arms as she walked back to Sam, smiling with such a relaxed beauty. Sam had no doubt that she was completely off her rocker, trapped in a world of her own creating.
If roles had been reversed, and it had been Dad that died, would Mom have gone this same way? Sam found himself wondering and ended up shaking his head. Not with what he knew now, he didn't believe that she would. Mary Winchester had been made of stronger stuff than either brother had ever completely understood. Sam awkwardly accepted the offered doll, trying to settle it comfortably into the crook of his arm, just as she had been carrying it.
Daphne then rested her head against his arm, gazing lovingly down at the porcelain face in his arms. "Isn't she beautiful?"
Instead of answering aloud, Sam simply nodded, his eyes roving over the room itself. A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he turned just in time to see one of the side doors finish closing. They weren't alone in the suite. Biting his lip, Sam pressed the doll back into Daphne's arms.
"Look, Daphne... honey," he stumbled over treating her like his wife, or at least, his girlfriend. But he had to play along. "There are people outside that want to hurt us, they want to hurt Kayla. Is there anyone else in here that can help us out?"
Something hard flickered across Daphne's features, and she shifted her grip on the Kayla doll, leaning it up against one shoulder. Pressing the palm of her free hand flat against the door, she closed her eyes, and appeared to be trying to remember something. After a few moments, she found her words, and began to intone them quietly. Sam took a step backwards as he recognized the Enochian language. As he fought to put two and two together in his brain, something struck the back of his head.
Staggering from the blow, Sam spun. He reacted on instinct, raising a hand to catch the second blow before it could land. His other hand came up quick to grab the elbow attached to the arm, and he stepped through, twisting hard and pulling upwards. A sudden yelp of pain brought him to a halt just short of plowing his attacker into the floor. He held tight though, unwilling to release the stranger just yet.
Except, things where still going on around him. He saw a bright white light spread from where Daphne's hand touched the door, and he saw how it spread out through the hallway. Muffled screams of pain and despair rose up at the light's brightest moment. Daphne stumbled and nearly dropped her baby doll. The figure in Sam's grip lurched and struggled for a moment.
"Mom!"
"Mom?" Sam let go suddenly, and the figure before him ran across the room. Kayla was as slender as her mother, but slightly taller. Sam's heart broke as Daphne straightened herself, completely ignoring her own daughter in favor of him, the stranger in the room.
"See, Martin, you taught me well. I got rid of them, like I do every time they try to take our miracle away from us..."
Sam drew a breath, and looked directly at Kayla. She glared in response, before turning completely away. "Kayla," he tried to stall any action she would take, taking a step toward her with his hands palm up and open. "Please, I need to talk to you..."
Daphne began to ignore them once Dean arrived. It wasn't hard to find a spot that was quiet; after all the suite had a fully equipped kitchen. In his hands, Dean had the sigil Daphne had drawn for the door. Sam was seated at the table, while Kayla had taken up a perch on the counter top. Now that he had time to look at her, Sam decided that she was classically pretty. The photograph they had of her did nothing for the real color of her eyes: a warm, vibrant green that reminded him of the summer-time green of trees.
"If your friend really wants to talk to me, he can come here," she was stating. Her hands were folded in her lap. "Even if Mom completely ignores me, at least I can be here."
Dean made a noise, and crumpled the paper holding the sigil. "That's just it, kid. He can't come here. All those signs, all those paintings in the hallway, they're keeping him away from here. We have to take you to him; there's no other way."
"Look, I feel safe here. I'm not leaving." Kayla hopped down from the counter, and straightened her tee-shirt. It was emblazoned with a few shamrocks, and what looked like a leprechaun getting ready to box an unseen opponent. As she turned away from the two of them, the back read: Let's Get Ready to Stumble.
Dean felt his appreciation of her sense of humor go up a notch, even as Sammy got up from his seat and crossed to her. "It's not safe for you here, or pretty much anywhere else for that matter. If you haven't figured it out already, there are people out there looking for you. Bad guys. Dangerous guys."
She rounded on him. "Oh, like you two? You're looking for me, doesn't that make you fall into your own categories? You nearly dislocated my shoulder! And, for that matter, what makes you so special that my mother finds room for you in her little fantasy world?"
"Woah, calm down Kayla," Dean stepped forward too, hemming the girl in so she couldn't bolt. "We're just interested in protecting you."
She backed up as they both got closer. "Everything was fine here until you showed up. I was safe." She sounded desperate. Closing her eyes, she took a long, deep breath. As she began to exhale, Sam glanced at his brother. As soon as he glanced back, the college girl with the bright green eyes had vanished into thin air.
Dean was slack-jawed with shock. Sam blinked a few times and looked back at Dean again.
"What just happened?" he asked softly.
"She... disappeared on us..." Dean confirmed what Sam feared. "We had her! How the Hell did that just happen?" Dean spun on his heel, and kicked the nearest chair. It fell over with a clatter, but didn't make him feel any better.
"Martin?" Daphne's reedy voice called from the living space, and after a few moments, she appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. Once more, she carried the Kayla doll. "Why don't you take Kayla to the beach again? She always loved it there..."
Sam mutely accepted the doll and glanced at Dean. Looking back down at the creepy porcelain thing, he noticed what it was wearing: A cute, pink striped onesie from Myrtle Beach, Virginia.