There was one car parked outside the house when they got there, presumably the caretakers. The sheriff had given Sam his card to present to prove it was ok for them to be there. Back in the day the place had been called the Crenshaw Mansion, for its time period it was fairly large. A two story home painted dark red with white trimmings; it was built to impress. There were six pillars on each level trailing the porch on the ground level and the balcony on the second. It didn't look decades old.

Dean nudged her as they got closer to the house and she looked at the EMF reader; it was lightly shifting back and forth, nothing huge but it was moving and they weren't even inside yet. He got that excited grin on his face and showed Sammy. "See? What'd I tell ya?"

Sam rolled his eyes and knocked on the door. An older man peered out the window before coming to greet them.

"Museum's closed."

"Yes sir, I was told to give this to you." Sam handed him the card. He watched him flip it over in his hand. "We just wanted to take a look around, maybe snap some pictures?"

"Sure sure, why not? I don't have anything better to do."

The three of them went inside and the EMF quieted a bit. Kayla took random pictures of nothing until the caretaker got bored and went outside to mow the lawn. As soon as the door shut the three of them went upstairs, past the second level and straight to the attic.

That's when Dean's reader shot up again. In the attic was a narrow hallway lined with rooms, six on each side. Each room was smaller than a horse's stall and only furnished a single cot and an anchor on the floor. This is where everything happened. This is where he had his slaves raped, beaten, and stripped of their children while they were crammed into inhuman cells, chained to the floor.

"Disgusting." Kayla went into one of the rooms and shivered slightly just thinking about what went on.

"Crenshaw ran one of the stations of the Reverse Underground Railroad, mostly from this house." Sam filled them in on some of the history. "Not only would he breed his own slaves to later sell, he caught escaped slaves and kidnapped free African Americans from the north and shipped them down into the south. On top of that he was a huge mogul in the crude salt industry. The guy was rich."

"How rich was he?" Dean snickered.

"He was so rich one year he paid one-seventh of all the taxes collected in Illinois."

"Damn. That is rich."

They all felt the temperature drop and instinctively moved together. At first it was barely audible, but became more distinct as it got louder. Soft crying and whimpering from the rooms, the noises were brought together by incoherent whispering. It continued getting louder and they looked around the room for spirits but saw nothing. The whispering stopped. The attic was silent.

Sam glanced around. "Well, something's here. With what happened it's probably a bunch of spirits that need to be put to rest." He didn't think the caretaker would be all too fond of an exorcism right now. They'd have to come back tonight.

Dean led the way out the front door. As he got to the threshold he stopped.

"What's wrong?"

He was listening. "You hear anything? Like a lawnmower?"

She glanced out the window, everything was quiet.

He stepped onto the porch and scanned the yard, his eyes came to rest on a figure hanging from a tree. The caretaker. At least he wouldn't get pegged for this one…Sam and Kayla were at the sheriffs department. They approached the body and he wished he hadn't; the guy's entrails hung out from his gut and were splayed in front of him on the ground. Nasty. Dean checked his watch; two hours until sunset. Someone would be here by then, someone would come looking for the caretaker and then the cops would show. They're not going to be able to touch this until tomorrow night.