Chapter 3:
"Nothing, Dean," Sam said as he closed his laptop. It was almost eight o'clock and he had found nothing that was helping them find who the spirit that was haunting Chris was.
"Sam, we have to find him, burn and salt his remains." Dean walked to the kitchen counter and took a long drag on his beer.
"I know, Dean. I get it, but not much I can do if I can't find who he was." Sam sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "I'm gonna go get something to eat, and I'll start searching again." Dean nodded and stretched. They had been searching for hours now.
Dean looked anxiously up the stairs and groaned. "This should be simple." Sam gave him the puppy dog eyes that normally got women to do what they needed to get the job done. "Don't look at me like that!" Dean sighed and then gave Sam a look that told him he was going to hate what was about to come out of his brother's mouth. "Sammy, I didn't know you were so into musicals. Could you be any more gay?" Dean asked and laughed as Sam glared.
"It's called being culture, Dean. Jess and I went to see Les Miséables when it came to Palo Alto. It's an amazing story that you would identify with." Sam looked up the stairs toward Chris's room. "Maybe more than you realize." Sam grabbed the keys to the Impala. "Usual?" Dean thought about it for a minute and nodded.
"Extra bacon."
Sam shook his head. "Then you'll tell me what went on with you and Chris?" Dean gave him a look that said 'no way in hell', but shrugged anyway.
"If you explain why I'd identify a play about men in frilly clothes." Dean smiled and took another drag from his beer.
Chris woke and stretched. She looked at her alarm clock and it was eight o'clock at night. She groaned and crawled out of bed. She knew she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep anytime soon and made her way down stairs to find Dean sitting on the couch watching television.
"Anything good on?" She asked in a sleepy tone. Dean turned around and was shocked by what he saw. She was wearing boy shorts and a tank top. He remembered to close his mouth, but wasn't able to say anything, so he just shook his head. Chris smiled and sat beside him on the couch. "I'm glad you're here." Dean nodded and slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer.
"Me too. I was wondering what had ever happened to you." He looked down at her and began remembering how he would have done anything for her in high school. That was a real awakening for him because no girl had had that power over him before. Sure, he'd do what he needed to so she would sleep with him, but this was different. After she had politely rejected his advances, he just wanted to make her like him and that meant doing whatever he could to make her happy. It had worked, and he was surprised by the friendship that had formed.
"You know most of it." Chris looked down at her hands and began to blush. "I'm sorry that I dumped all that on you earlier. The only people that know about that are Sean, our parents and me." Chris shrugged. "I just don't talk about my past too much anymore."
Dean lifted her chin so she was looking at him. "Don't worry about it. I'm here to help you." His voice was soft. "Besides, I had to see why you screamed." He shrugged. "You know, the whole ghost thing," he gave her a wicked smile, "plus, it could have been a big bad spider."
Chris shuddered. "You remember that I'm deathly afraid of spiders, huh?"
Dean nodded. "How could I forget you screaming like you were being chased by a maniac all because a spider fell in your hair while we were walking home from a football game?" They both laughed.
"It wasn't funny!" Chris tried to stop laughing and be serious, but it wasn't possible. After a few minutes, they stopped laughing and looked at each other. "Thanks, Dean. I needed that." She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. She pulled back and felt Dean staring at her.
Dean brought his hand up to her cheek and softly kissed her lips. Chris leaned in and slightly deepened the kiss. Dean took that as his cue and pulled her closer and slowly started to lay her back on the couch. He started running his hand down her arm when something picked him up and threw him against the wall by the door. Chris looked and saw the ghost standing over Dean. She screamed and jumped up.
"Chris, get some salt!" Dean yelled as he stood.
"Keep your hands off my wife!" The ghost said. Dean cocked his head.
"Is this Sean?" Dean asked just before he was thrown against the wall again.
Chris ran back into the living room. "What? No! Sean's still alive!"
"I was afraid you'd say that." Dean was trying to edge his way past the spirit standing in front of him.
Chris held up the container of salt. "What do I do with this?"
Dean was being lifted off the ground by the neck. "Throw it at him!" He choked out. Chris opened the container and threw salt at the ghost. He screamed and disappeared. Dean dropped to the ground gasping for air.
"You okay?" Dean nodded as he stood.
"You?" Chris shrugged and the nodded. He closed the gap between them and pulled her into a tight hug.
Sam walked into the room and quickly said, "Sorry, but I have burgers!" Dean pulled back from Chris.
"It's okay, Sam," Chris said. "I'll get dressed." She left the room and Sam watched Dean watch Chris.
"Did I miss something?" Sam was setting out the food on the kitchen table.
"Yeah. The ghost showed up and tried to kill me." Dean shrugged. "But, he might have given me a clue." Sam raised his eyebrows. "While he was throwing me around he told me to keep my hands off his wife."
Sam smirked, "You had your hands on Chris?"
"Kinda, but that's not the point. I think we've been doing the wrong search. We've been looking for someone tied to the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center. What if the key is his wife? What if she was the reason he died?"
Sam gave a thoughtful frown and grabbed his laptop. "Or the one that killed him? I came across a story about something like that, but ignored it since it didn't happen at the PAC." He hit a few keys. "Got it!"
"Go what?" Chris entered the room. She was wearing a pair of Bermuda shorts and another tank top. Her hair was pulled into a loose pony tail with tendrils falling around her face for the layers that were just a touch too short.
"Who we're dealing with," Sam said. He didn't look up from his laptop as he put a fry into his mouth.
Dean stepped closer to Chris and put his arm around her waist. "You are so cute." His compliment was softly spoken, but his voice had a gruffness to it that told her he was thinking more than he was saying. She smiled wryly at him and sat down at the table.
"One of these for me," she asked grabbing a burger. Sam nodded as she opened one. "This one must be for me. It has extra bacon." Dean jumped to the table and took it from her.
"You may be cute, sweetheart, but not that cute." He bit into the burger and she laughed.
"Still loving the bacon I see." She said as she opened the cheese burger in front of her.
"Damn straight," Dean said with a semi-full mouth. "Whatcha got, Sammy?"
Sam looked up. He hadn't been ignoring the exchange that had just played out in front of him. He just made a mental note to ask Dean about it later. "It looks like our guy's name was Frank Asher. Apparently about ten years ago his wife was in a play here in Tampa, a local production of Beauty and the Beast."
"I love that play," Chris said as she took a bite of her burger.
Sam only briefly moved his eyes to her before continuing. "Anyway, he showed up at the theater one night during rehearsals to find his wife being kissed by one of her co-stars, a Robert McNally. He pulled the man off his wife and they proceeded to fight. The wife, Alison Asher, pulled her gun and fired a shot. It hit Frank in the chest and killed him almost instantly. She then turned the gun on her co-star and shot him square between the eyes. No charges were filed because there were no witnesses and she admitted to everything. The event bothered her so much that she admitted herself to a local mental hospital."
"Does the article say which one?" Dean took another bite of his burger.
"Memorial Hospital," Sam said as he took a sip of his beer.
"That's not far from here," Chris answered. "Probably a fifteen minute drive." Sam and Dean nodded.
"I say we pay a visit tomorrow and see what Mrs. Asher can tell us then." Dean smiled at his brother. "First thing in the morning sound good to you, Agent Perry?"
"Sounds perfect, Agent Tyler." Chris gave them odd looks but didn't ask. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Sam and Dean adjusted their ties as they entered the psych ward at Memorial Hospital. They approached the desk where a friendly looking secretary was filing some paperwork. "Can I help you?"
"FBI, ma'am." Sam and Dean flashed their badges. "Agents Tyler and Perry." She looked at them as if she didn't really care. "We're here to see Alison Asher." That got the secretary's attention.
"The only person that visits her is her elderly mother. I'll get an orderly to show you to the activity room. She usually spends the day there." She got up and looked at them. "Watch my scissors. Don't let anyone get them." She was deadly serious, but Dean had to stifle a laugh. She walked down a short hallway and returned a minute later with a large man that looked like had been dropped on his head as a child.
"This guy looks like Igor," Dean muttered to Sam. Sam cleared his throat and smiled dryly at the orderly, just in case he heard Dean. He doubted he did, but still, Sam didn't want to be on the wrong end of those fists.
He opened the door and led them to a large open room with several people sitting at tables doing different calming activities, such as putting puzzles together, playing checkers, coloring, painting, watching television. He pointed to a woman sitting by the window staring blankly. Sam nodded his thanks as they approached Alison Asher. They stopped a few feet from her. Both men stopped dead in their tracks as they looked at her profile. She was a near mirror image to Chris Anderson.
"Mrs. Asher?" She looked up startled to hear someone speaking to her.
"Y-yes. Can I help you?" She fiddled with her hair and straightened her robe a little.
"Agents Tyler and Perry, FBI." The flashed their badges. "We have some questions about your husband's death."
Alison became very nervous at the mention of her late husband. "I'm not sure why you want to know about that, but o-okay." They pulled up chairs and sat across from her.
"There have been similar cases in the area and we are trying to make a connection is all." Alison didn't understand, but she nodded.
"What do you want to know?" She fidgeted a little more.
"We know this is hard," Sam began, "but can you tell us about that night? Anything that seemed odd to you?"
Alison rubbed her forehead. "Um…sure." She swallowed and looked around. "I was playing Belle in the local production of Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Frank was an excellent husband and was very supportive of my pursuing acting, even if not professionally. Robert was playing the Beast and the Prince in the play. We became close during the rehearsals, Robert and I. After a few weeks it became obvious that he was attracted to me. Things were getting strained between me and Frank because I was gone a lot, so I didn't tell him. I figured I'd take care of the issue on my own. It came to that point that night." She swallowed and looked out the window for a minute. Dean looked at Sam with a touch of impatience which Sam countered with his typical 'not now' look.
"I told Robert I wasn't interested in him. I could see him getting angry, hurt. I left. I was going to catch the bus home that night, so I needed to leave or I would be walking the three miles to our apartment." She shook her head as the images from that night flashed in her mind's eye. The image that stuck was the one where Robert's eyes seemed black. She knew it had to be the dimly lit ally. "He came bursting out of the theater and started yelling at me. He was completely enraged. He threw me against the wall and started kissing me. That was when Frank came. They began to fight. It was getting pretty bad, and then suddenly Robert seemed as though he was normal again, as if he was never angry. I had found my gun and had it pointed at Robert. He then said that I needed to say good-bye to my husband and attacked again. I fired a shot." Tears started to fill her eyes. "It, um, hit, um, Frank." A single tear fell. "I shot my husband!" A few more tears fell and she shook her head trying not to choke on the sobs. "I then turned and shot Robert while he tried to act shocked by what had just happened. He acted like he had no idea how it happened. My husband was dead because of him!" She sobbed quietly for a minute. The tears stopped as quickly as they had started and a small grin crossed her face. It wasn't a grin of happiness, but one that is typically associated with those that are mentally unstable.
Sam and Dean waited for her to continue. Both knew there was something she wasn't telling them. It was almost as if she didn't want to say it aloud. "Do you want to know why I admitted myself in here?" The half-crazy smile was still on her face. Sam nodded and Dean leaned in a little closer. "It's not because I shot my husband and my friend, but because of what I'm sure I saw that night. It's the only thing about that night that is still crystal clear in my mind's eye. Robert's eyes were black. Not black like they were bruised, but I mean his eyes went from being a bright blue to being entirely black. They did that twice. It was almost as if he was possessed. I know that sounds crazy. It has to be crazy. That's why I admitted myself."
Sam and Dean gave each other a look that said more between them than they would ever say aloud to Alison Asher. "Not as crazy as you might think, Mrs. Asher," Sam sounded as compassionate as ever.
"This is going to sound like a strange question, but where is Frank buried?" Dean asked, but Alison didn't seem to be fazed by it.
"Um, he's buried, um, in Rest Haven Memorial Park." She looked out the window. "When you find him, tell him I'm sorry." Sam nodded and they left the hospital.
"So, are you thinking what I'm thinking, Dean?" Sam shoved his hands into his pockets as they crossed the hospital parking lot.
"Yes, but this time you put the pants on the chimp," Dean laughed as Sam gave him a look. "It's from Pinky and the…." Dean trailed off.
"Really?" Sam frequently wondered about his brother.
Dean let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, I'm thinking what you're thinking. They say everyone has a twin. Maybe Alison Asher is Chris's twin." Dean opened the driver's door and stopped. "But, come on, Sam, the pants joke was funny!" Sam chuckled and got in the car.