Disclaimer - Same. Oh, and Thank you J.K. Rowling for the Harry Potter series. Hope you don't mind my referencing your work.

Chapter 7

Thomas knew at once that something was wrong. He had played in enough minds to notice changes, and Kaitlyn's body seemed somehow vacant. It also occurred to him that she seemed to have just passed out, though he thought he could hear the voices of the two men with which she had recently become acquainted. The next thing he felt was a certain "crowding." That was the only word he could use to describe it. It took him a second, but he realized his mistake. She was a psychic. Not nearly as able as he was, but somehow she had managed to follow his lifeline to his own body. At first he was afraid. What would she do to him here? But that voice that often spoke to him and guided him, reminded him that he was, after all, much more powerful than she. And really, what better way to torment her than to show her the many things he had done to his other puppets. He might even be able to trap her here. His fear became a shiver of excitement and glee and he went back to his body. It was his mind; he would lay out the welcome mat and set up a playground, just for her.

He found her easily enough. He was even amused at the difficulty she seemed to be having. She wasn't a true telepath, so watching her was like watching a blind person trying to feel her way around a new environment. He let out a long cruel laugh and watched Kaitlyn hesitate with the realization that she may have gotten in over her head, so to speak.

"Come into my parlor," he whispered to Kaitlyn, while his mental avatar circled her.

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At first, Kaitlyn couldn't see anything. She was no longer in her own mind and she could not control the environment as she would have been able to in her own space. She could still see the lifeline, and she thought this would be her best bet for getting to the heart of the information she needed. She watched in fascination as she saw that she left behind glowing footprints. She kept her hand running along the lifeline of this man's consciousness, or subconscious, she wasn't sure which, until it stopped - tied to what appeared to be a door knob. She ghosted her hands over the structure in front of her and again watched with interest as a door appeared in the same phosphorescent light that her feet left. Apparently, as she assimilated information from this mind to hers, it became visible to her.

She turned the doorknob and entered into the house. How she knew it was a house, she wasn't sure, but she figured it had something to do with what the other psychic wanted her to know. She walked down the hallway toward the back of the house, with her hands stretched to either side of her. Every item her fingertips slipped over glowed, illuminating a little more of her environment as she went. She felt she was being watched, but thought that was probably par for the course. As the hallway was just too wide for her finger tips to touch both sides at the same time, she moved closer to the right side so she could better light her way. She felt her fingers run over the edge of a picture frame, but instead of feeling glass or paint inside the frame, she felt something wet. She looked at her fingertips, but in the odd, dim light, whatever was on them looked black. She wiped her hand on her pants and then, with both hands, she outlined the picture frame. In the glow of the frame, she could make out the picture inside. Like a Harry Potter portrait, this picture moved. But it captured and replayed a specific event. Kaitlyn watched as a woman, who was obviously panic stricken, ran to the edge of a building and then continued, running right off. The movie that played out showed the ten story drop and the sickening impact on the pavement below. The impact spattered blood, and it was this that caused the wetness that Kaitlyn had touched on first contact with the painting.

Kaitlyn turned her head while simultaneously covering her mouth with one hand and grabbing her stomach with the other. She concentrated for a moment to keep herself from vomiting. Funny, I don't even have a body, but I think I'm gonna puke. She took a few steps away from the picture and leaned one hand against the wall for support before continuing on, leaving a glowing handprint behind.

On the same side of the hallway, Kaitlyn came across three other paintings. Each one featured a woman killing herself in some way, to escape a terror that only she could see. At the second picture, Kaitlyn had noticed a gold engraved placard at the bottom. It gave a name and a date. She went back to the first picture, trying hard to avoid actually looking at the images, and found a similar name and date designation. By the fourth picture on the right side of the hall, Kaitlyn felt a need to investigate the left side of the hallway. She needed to know how many more women there were. She headed back down the hall this time touching the opposite wall. There were five more paintings on that side. That made nine women total, and this was just the front hall. She prayed and hoped this didn't mean what she thought it might.

As she headed away from the front door again, she stayed in the middle of the hall so she wouldn't have to touch either wall, or the paintings, or the blood that seeped from each one. Each woman in the paintings had died with their eyes open. This was not a significant fact in and of itself, but, as she walked down the hall, nine pairs of eyes seemed to track her movement. The dead eyes were remarkably expressive, fixing Kaitlyn with either accusing stares or fear-filled despair. In the dim light, she could see that the hall opened into a circle that surrounded the base of a stairway. She grabbed the rail and started to head up the stairs, but a thudding noise that repeated itself several times and at varying distances from her, made Kaitlyn stop and look behind her. Each of the women from the pictures had crawled out of their frames and landed with a thud on the ground. Many of them had bodies that stuck out at unnatural angles or had gaping wounds that no living person could sustain and remain alive. They shone in the same dim light Kaitlyn's touch had left behind, adding to the odd glow in the hall, though never making the area bright. As the women, moving like zombies from a bad movie, slowly made their way to her, Kaitlyn ran. Yeah, run up the stairs. You know there is never a way to escape once you get up the stairs. She didn't have a choice, though. The only door she had yet seen was the front door and she wasn't going to make through the women to that.

In direct contrast to the floor below her, the landing at the top of the stairs was full of doors. Well, at least there's more light now. She was on the verge of laughing, probably a bit hysterically, but the only sound that escaped her constricted breathing passages was strangled noise, something between a laugh and a sob. She ran for the first door and got inside the room. Quickly she turned and locked the door. She was once again thrust into darkness. As quickly and as carefully as she could, Kaitlyn went around the room touching as many things as she could and still keep upright and moving. She could hear heavy footfalls in the hall, but without being able to see, she had no way to escape. Once she had a bare minimum of light in the room, she saw it was a library. Ugh. This doesn't help me at all. And to her horror, she could see that there were two other entrances to the room. The two doors, on opposite walls from each other, and the door she came in on the third wall made three entrances into the room. And no windows. She locked the door to the left of her entrance, then headed to the other door.

Kaitlyn went through it and immediately, she turned and locked the door behind her. She started her circle through this room, but stopped short when she heard a noise coming from the door that led to the hall. She rushed as carefully as she could to the hallway door to lock it. The woman on the other side already had it open by the time Kaitlyn got to it. She missed the doorknob the first time, so she put her hand on the door and slid it toward where the knob should have been until she could see it. Then she grabbed it and yanked as hard as she could, locking it once the door was closed. She put her hand on the wall and followed the wall around the room. She figured this room would also have a third door. Once she reached it, she turned the lock, and then proceeded to explore this room. This one was an office. Thinking of the way the psychic had filed through her memories, she hedged her bets and found the file cabinet.

The top drawer of the two-drawer file cabinet was locked, so Kaitlyn opened the bottom drawer. In it she saw hanging folders. Each was labeled with the names of the women from the pictures on the first floor. Shaking a little, she picked up the first folder and flipped through it. There were still shots of the woman while she was alive – pictures similar to the surveillance photos a private investigator would take…or a stalker. There were notes written on yellow lined legal paper, detailing a plan of attack for breaking the woman and leading her to her death. Kaitlyn was once again sickened and had to put the file back or risk losing her lunch.

She had an idea. The man was obviously proud of the work he had done on the women, equating it with a professional legal job or a work of art. She wondered what he wasn't so proud of, that he would lock the drawer. She closed the bottom drawer and tried again to open the top one. As expected, it was still locked. When Kaitlyn had first connected with Sam, she had to push gently through one of his subconscious barriers to gain access. She had done it gently enough to not hurt him. It was something she didn't usually like doing and hadn't done often, but she did know how. This time, she was going to push through a barrier, and she was not going to be gentle, if that's what it took.

The mind is an interesting place. In order to cope with things and organize thoughts, people often equate parts of the mind with something comparable in the physical realm. This file cabinet, for example, was a representation of important memories and events. If she could find a way to by-pass the lock and force open the first drawer, she might find information she could use. It could, of course, just be another trick of this man's mind, but she hoped the fact that the drawer was locked was significant. In her mind's eye, she imagined a thin metal crowbar, small enough to be wedged into the crack between the top of the drawer and the top of the cabinet. When she had the image firmly established, she reached into her back pocket and pulled it out, having given form to thought. She then jammed it into the cabinet and tried to jimmy it open. At first, she didn't think the drawer would budge, but slowly it gave way. Unfortunately, she noticed that, the more she struggled and succeeded, the more noise she heard outside the door of the room. The women had started pounding on the door.

Finally the drawer gave and popped open. Kaitlyn ghosted her hand over the surface of the files to illuminate them all at once. Each file had the name Thomas Wayne and various dates. She grabbed the first file and the last file in the drawer. She had barely gotten her hand out of the way when the drawer slammed shut of its own accord and she heard a shouted, "NO!" Uh-oh.

All at once, she heard the locks to all three of the doors open and the women made their slow staggering entrance, crowding toward her. Only one door didn't have any women at it – the one that lead to the previously locked library. Kaitlyn ran to that door, opened it and ran through. Slamming the door behind her she locked it. She also re-locked the door to the hall. She ran to the next room, locked the door, and crossed that room as quickly and carefully as she could, to the door that she hoped would be there on the far side. As she glanced back, she would have laughed had her situation not been so terrifying. She was leaving glowing footprints on the floor. Great! I'm Tinkerbell. Even if I don't touch anything, I leave a trail. They'll be able to find me anywhere. She just hoped that these zombies were as stupid as the ones in the movies and followed behind her instead of thinking to cut her off. She found the door and tumbled into yet another room, following her recently established routine of turning and locking the door behind her. She headed, once again, for the far side of the room but found only wall. She was in the corner room of the house. No windows! I can't even get out through a window. What am I going to do? Okay. Okay…

Kaitlyn crept to the door that lead to the hall and opened it a crack. She looked for the telltale light of the women, trying to see if any were in the hall. Two of them were indeed in the hall and heading toward her. She thought for a moment, deciding that, with only two in the hall, her best chance was to make a run for it and try to avoid them. If she could make it to the front door, she'd be able to get back. She ran flat out, knowing it was pointless to try to be stealthy. They seemed to be able to sense her, even if, by some chance, they didn't follow the light trail she left wherever she went.

As she approached the first woman, she headed directly at her, again, banking on the zombie-type manifestations to be slow and not too bright. As the woman prepared to grab her, Kaitlyn quick-stepped to the side and ran past her. The second woman was too close, though, so she was going to have to push past her, ramming her with her shoulder to knock her out of the way. There was one problem to that plan. The instant she made contact with the woman, she became overwhelmed by images and feelings. It seemed that everything Thomas had put the woman through streamed at high speed from the zombie-woman into Kaitlyn. She stumbled and fell into the wall, hitting her head. She shook her head to try to clear it, and heard the sound of the doors opening, while light started to flood the upper landing. Kaitlyn pushed off the wall and headed to the stairs. Another woman grabbed her by the hair and tried to pull her back. Looking back later, she never would know how she managed it, but despite the flood of information that passed into her again, this time a different woman and different images and emotions, she managed to break free. She ran down the steps, jumping the last five and made a mad dash for the door. She reached the door and saw through the glass the triumphant and far too amused face of Thomas looking at her from the other side. He'd just locked the door and waved at her. Then he turned and reached for her lifeline.

"No!" She yelled and pulled at the door. She tried to find the lock mechanism, but it seemed Thomas had removed it. She turned to face the women as they approached. They filled the hall in front of her and she had no place to go. She turned back to the door and started pounding on it with everything she had.

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Despite the unnatural regularity of Kaitlyn's breathing, the Winchester brothers watched as she seemed to be in the throws of some kind of nightmare. Suddenly, she stilled and her eyes flew open. She sprang to her feet and made a break for the door.

Stunned by the abruptness of the change, the men acted on instinct. Sam grabbed Kaitlyn from behind to prevent her from leaving. When Thomas realized Kaitlyn's body, which he had confiscated, was pinned by the superior size and strength of the man holding her, he attacked Sam's mind.

Sam yelled out in pain, letting go of Kaitlyn and grabbing his head as he dropped to his knees. "Not… her," he ground out between clenched teeth, hoping Dean would understand.

There was a maniacal gleam in her eye. One which was strangely familiar to Dean. Added to what Sam said, Dean heard an almost audible click in his understanding. That's the same creepy-assed expression on the face of the mystery man. So Dean did the first thing that popped into his head. He punched her – knocking her out cold. Sorry about that. He put her back on the bed while checking on Sam. "You okay?"

"I think so." Sam pressed his finger into that spot above the nose and between the eyes. The pain was subsiding. "That was close."

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Kaitlyn was being grabbed from behind by several sets of hands, pulling at her, scratching and tearing to get a better grip on her. She was sobbing and close to passing out from everything swirling through her head. Her only coherent thought was, don't let go of the door. She had long since relinquished her hold on the files. Survival was her main objective now, but she didn't think she could hold on much longer.

God, help me! Please, she prayed, and with that, the door opened. The sudden shift of pressure as the door swung in actually caused several of the zombies to fall. She hoped one day she'd be able to look back on that and laugh, but right now she just hoped to be able to look back from a safe distance. Period. She managed to disentangle her legs from the fallen women and ran for all her worth to her lifeline – the zip line that would take her home. She grabbed hold and pushed with her feet.

When she landed on the shores of her own mind, she was a little confused by the sensations she was experiencing. But, before she could take stock of her physical condition, she had her own exorcism to perform. She found Thomas looking a bit stunned. Being knocked out had inadvertently caused him to release control over Kaitlyn's body and his own. Back in her own body, her body and soul served to bolster her energy, strength and determination. She pushed out with all her strength, like she had only hour or two ago, though it seems like months, and Thomas went flying from the shores of her mind.

She was frightened for a moment when her body didn't respond to her, but as she settled into herself, she woke up.

"Ow." Kaitlyn reached up and felt her jaw. A nice sized egg was beginning to form there and it hurt to touch. She sat up in bed.

"Yeah. Uh. Sorry about that." Dean said, scratching his head and looking uncomfortable. "But, you were trying to get away…Well, not you, exactly…but…"

"It's okay," Kaitlyn chuckled. "Thanks. A lot." Despite her smile, silent tears started to stream down her face. Her thankfulness at being alive and in her own body was enough to bring tears to her eyes, but with each minute that passed, more and more of the memories she had absorbed weaved themselves into the tapestry of her own memories and soon she was struggling to hold herself together.

Sam came over and offered his shoulder and the shelter of an embrace until the storm passed and she could compose herself.

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tbc

A/N - Thanks for the reviews to all who have stuck with me; and thanks to J.A. Carlton, Mom, and Mei mei. You're moral support has made a world of difference in keeping me motivated to finish this story.