ooOoo
The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.
Real Ghost Stories
Chapter 15
The Deane House, Calgary, Alberta
In 1875 the Canadian North-West mounted Police were charged with establishing order on the frontier. At the confluence of the Bow and Elbow Rivers in Alberta, Canada , Fort Calgary was built. When the railroad opened up Western Canada, Fort Calgary grew into a City. The Fort still remained as housing for the Police and in 1906 the fort's superintendent, Captain Richard Deane, decided that none of the fort's housing was good enough for his wife, Martha. He sunk an eye-popping, for the time, amount of $6,200 and built his beloved a stately home. Unfortunately Martha died of a sudden illness before she even set foot in the house. The Deane house history started with sorrow and mourning.
In 1914 the Fort was finally closed and the land and the buildings were sold to the Pacific Railway. They tore down all of the buildings except the Deane House which became the station master's house and was moved to the southwest corner of the property. This was only the first time that the Deane House was moved. With it went the taint of sorrow and grief and rumors of an old native in the basement who never left and didn't want anyone one down there. The old man was the first of the rumored spirits of the house.
In 1929 the house was sold again, this time to an entrepreneur who had it moved across the Elbow River to a new site on the opposing bank. The move was so spectacular that it was detailed in that year's Popular Mechanics magazine and it was said that C L Jacques, the man who had it moved, could have built a whole new house for what it cost him to accomplish the feat.
Over the years the once stately home fell on hard times. It went steadily downhill and finally became a cheap boarding house. There was a long history of suspicious deaths and outright murders committed there. There was a suicide in the attic, and a murder suicide when a jealous husband stabbed his wife to death and then killed himself in front of his own children, descendants of C.L. Jacques died supposedly of natural causes in the house and there were reports of at least two more murders, one on the front steps. The Deane house claimed the title of the Most Haunted House in Calgary.
In 1980 the house was rescued by being made part of the Fort Calgary-preserved historic site and refurbished by the Historical Preservation Society. A restaurant took over the first floor and it became a favorite tourist spot.
The number of report ghosts is amazing. There's the old man in the rocker who makes the second floor creak with his movements and who smokes continuously. The young epileptic who committed suicide while locked away in the attic moans and weeps, the ghost in the black cape rushes down the staircase and blows the front door open as it leaves. The man killed on the outside steps lies there still for those with the ability to see spirits. The stabbed wife screams and her children cry. Dinner at the Deane House can become somewhat uncomfortable at times.
The restaurant owner complained to the Historical Society and threatened to break the lease if something wasn't done and the Society went looking for ghost hunters. It was all done very quietly since the Calgary Chamber of Commerce featured the Deane House hauntings on their web site and considered it good for tourism.
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San and Dean parked on the street in front of the Deane house and stood leaning on the Impala.
"Creepy." Dean muttered. Even from across the street the two experienced Hunters knew there was something wrong with that house. It stared back at them through half shaded windows like partially closed eyes.
If it hadn't been radiating evil at the Hunters it might have been a nice looking house, It consisted of two stories with a large veranda like front porch of white pillars and railings and steps wide enough for the Preservation Society to divide them down the middle and make a 'Entrance' side and an Exit' side.
The last of the Historical Park visitors were walking down the porch stairs and standing on the sidewalks. Dean just caught sight of a vaporous body sprawled on the steps. The visitors walked right through it. The body flickered at each tread and a few visitors clutched at their jackets or sweaters as if fending off a sudden chill.
"Well, that's got to go." Sam muttered to his brother.
"No shit." Dean answered. "We should get in there and walk the house. Find out just what we're dealing with."
"Well, I don't want to go in without protection." Sam said. "I think there's something in there spoiling for a fight."
"Nice. We better go in loaded for bear." Dean replied.
"If we're lucky it will only be a bear." Sam muttered back. "This place has too many ghosts. Something is holding them here. Let's take hex bags in too. I want to purify each story. The Preservation Society is just going to have to put up with a few holes in the walls."
They moved to the trunk and started loading up. A duffle might become difficult to hold on to among so many spirits but they started with it just to get the shot guns across the street without the neighbors calling the cops
Hex bags went into pockets. Sam held out parchments printed with Exorcisms. Dean hung protective amulets in the shape of medieval sigils around their necks. Bags of salt went in the duffle but the drawstrings holding the bags closed could be hung from an arm or a shoulder. They had no good idea of what they were going to find so they took everything they knew to use.
They continued to watch until the tour guides came out locked the front door. Soon the house would be all theirs. The brothers settled down to wait for dark.
They decided to start at the top of the house and clear as they came down. The first ghost they knew about was the teenage epileptic that committed suicide in the attic. On their way up the stairs the ghost in the black cape, another fairly famous apparition passed them as it ran down the stairs. Dean turned automatically and took a shot with the salt gun but only nipped a corner of the ghost's cape due to his awkward positon on the stairs. Lucky Sam had drizzled a salt line inside the front door when they entered and when the ghost hit that barrier it blew into a hundred ragged fragments that fluttered away.
"Do you think that did any good?" Dean asked.
"Most likely not," Sam answered. Perhaps if it coalesces over and over again it might have some minimal effect but I'm pretty sure we'll have to bless it out of existence. No one knows who it is or why it spends all its time running down the stairs."
"OK, spell boy, a job for you." Dean hefted the gun on his shoulder and continued up to the attic.
Once in the attic Sam set up his bowl and lit the herbs, muttering to himself all the while. In a few minutes a figure formed, huddled in front of the window that he had thrown himself out of with a rope around his neck, ending a miserable life. The spirit was sitting on the ledge, still wearing a ghostly simulacrum of the rope he had used to hang himself. Sam knelt beside the spirit and raised his hand.
"I don't know what is in this house but something is holding these spirits here. This spirit has been ready to go for a long time and it is only cruelty that holds him. That and his own belief that he learned from his father; he can't let go until he has permission." Sam lowered his hand. "I think we can give him that. Look for the line from the Jewish prayers for the dead. Look for the passage from the Yazkor"
Dean flipped through his parchments and showed Sam a page. Sam nodded and then took Dean's hand and attempted to take the hand of the ghost. The Winchesters bowed their heads and recited:
Have mercy upon him; pardon all his transgressions…Shelter his soul in the shadow of your wings. Make known to him the path of life.
They repeated the verse and at each repeat the spirit shimmered and thinned. Finally it faded away.
"I am going to put the cap on the bottle." Sam told Dean. "I can't feel him anywhere now but just to make sure he stays on his path and isn't recovered by the beast in this house…" Sam started again:
God, filled with mercy, dwelling in the heavens' heights, bring proper rest beneath the wings of your Shechinah, amid the ranks of the holy and the pure; illuminating like the brilliance of the skies the soul of our beloved and our blameless who went to his eternal place of rest. May You who are the source of mercy, shelter him beneath your wings eternally, and bind the soul among the living, that he may rest in peace. And let us say, Amen.
The sense of oppression lifted in the attic. Sam straightened and brushed the dust from his hands.
"We could be here until dawn clearing these spirits one at a time. I feel that something is holding them here. Something will not let them go."
Dean shrugged, "Whatever you say, Sam. It's your call; any idea where to look first?"
"I have two candidates,' Sam said seriously "the old man in the rocker and that old fraud in the basement."
Dean laughed. "Who's the fraud?"
Sam snorted. "There's supposed to be an old Native in the basement that warns people away. He whispers warnings about sacred ground."
"We've run into this before," Dean said. "Old burial grounds and sacred places are often haunted and defended."
"Yes, I know." Sam agreed. "But just think about it. This house has existed on three different sites. The last site is on the opposite side of the river. Why would this Native keep claiming that the land is sacred? If he were real he would have stayed on the first site, the place where the sacred land existed. Instead he's traveling with the house. That's why I doubt very much that he is really a Native protector. I think it's a masquerade."
"Huh," Dean grunted. "Spirits getting creative; what next?"
"Let's go down and see if we can kick his ass out of here." Sam said.
"Fine with me," Dean responded and headed out of the attic and down the staircase. They found the cellar door in the kitchen. Opening it released a smell of old mildew and ancient cardboard. There was a light switch and to their surprise, it worked.
Whatever was down there sent out waves of darkness. Pacing slowly down the rickety stairs the brothers started their exorcism. Sam was beginning to believe it was a demon they were facing.
"Sam: Domine, exaudi orationem mcam
Dean: And let my cry be heard
Sam: Dominus vobiscum
Dean: May he also be with you.
The chant got them to the bottom of the stair safely where they could finally see their target. It still appeared as a venerable Native elder with long dark hair and a proud presence. Sam extended his hand and the creature glared at the Hunter..
Over his shoulder he whispered to Dean. "Try to get a salt ring around it." Sam started the Oremus Oratio:
Omnipotens Domine, Verbum die Patris, Christe Jesu, Deus et Dominus universae creaturae; qui sanctis Apostolis tuis dedisti potestatem calcandi super serpentes et scorpiones: qui inter cetera….
Dean could hear Sam chanting in the background as he completed the first of the salt circles. He had laid it down tuathal, against the spirit. Now he wanted to go back and lay another circle deiseal, favoring those outside the circle.
The brothers had found, through trial and error that salt circles laid out in such a manner could function as temporary 'devil's traps'. They would not hold long, perhaps long enough to save your life. Whatever they had trapped inside was thoroughly confused by Sam's chant and Dean's actions.
It did not know which to look at first. It started to slowly spin in place, growing more and more distorted. It had dwelt here for more than a century, feeding on the unfortunate spirits it trapped in the house. Now these interlopers had cut it off from the source of its power.
Dean could hear things happening upstairs. There were cries and crashes and it felt like the whole house was shaking.
Sam's chant went on:
." …mirabilium tuorum praecepta dignarus es dicere: Daemones effugate : cujus virtute motus tamquam fulgur de caelo satanas cecidit: tuum sanctum nomen cum timore et tremor suppliciter deprecor, …."
Dean worked feverishly. He was chalking out devil's trap circles outside the salt lines with red chalk from his pocket. The demon, Dean had finally decided on demon, focused on him. It growled as each mark was traced out on the concrete floor of the cellar. It slowed its spinning and pointed at him. He felt as if something was crawling up his arms and resisted the urge to shake them.
Sam shouted "Dean, start your Exorcism"
Dean started:
"I cast you out, unclean spirit, along with every Satanic power of the enemy, every spectre from hell, and all your fell companions; in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, Begone and stay far from the creatures of god for it is He who commands you…
He could hear Sam repeating the same Exorcism in Latin and their voices rose together in the dank cellar, exerting all the strength of their belief in the power of the words backed by the power of their spirits.
The demon could not stand against them and vibrated faster and faster and then exploded . A wind blew through the cellar and all the foul shreds of the creature were swept up in a whirlwind and sucked into the floor. Dean rose to his feet.
"Ready to go upstairs and check on the rest of the crew?" he asked Sam.
They walked through the house, stopping only to plant hex bags in the walls and checking on the small signs of destruction. They could not find a sign of a single ghost. No one rushed down the stairs, there were no visions of murder in the upstairs hallways, the smoke was gone from the parlor and the chair no longer rocked. When freed from the demon the sprits had wasted no time getting out of the house. Dean peeked through a window and did not see a body on the steps.
"I just want to do one more thing, Dean, then we can go" , Sam said and stood in the center of the front room and recited:
A Prayer for the Forgotten Dead
O merciful god,
Take pity on those souls
Who have no particular friends and intercessors
To recommend them to Thee, who,
Either through the negligence of those who are alive,
Or through length of time are forgotten
By their friends and by all.
Spare them, O Lord,
And remember Thine own mercy,
When others forget to appeal to it,
Let not the souls which Thou hast created
Be parted from thee, their Creator.
ooOoo
May the souls of all the faithful departed,
Through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen
"Now we can go,"" Sam said.
"I'm more than ready, " Dean smiled aback at his brother. "The Chamber of Commerce will just have to suck it up."