The Beast Within

-Chapter 3-

6 months earlier…

His name was Benjamin Sinclair. He was born in Clarinda, Iowa, November 2nd 1949 to Marsha and Philip Sinclair. Both had initially come over as prisoners of WWII and with the birth of their first son Benjamin they had decided to emigrate to the US to become hardworking and loyal Americans. They changed their names to more American sounding ones in order to blend in and avoid the fear of discrimination against them. Though they never moved far from Clarinda, the place where they had been kept as prisoners in work camps, they always denied their past in front of their son and vowed to never speak of it again. But Benjamin was a bright child and put the pieces of the puzzle together as an adolescent. He had to understand why his father was the way he was and he came to the conclusion that his father had never quite overcome the doctrines implanted in him by the Third Reich. His father wasn't an unusually cruel man, yet he had a lot of anger and frustration in him, that he ended up directing against his son.

Soon after his parents died in a tragic car accident, the young Benjamin moved to Arkansas in search of a new beginning. He never married or had children and led a relatively uneventful, rather reclusive life. He had never missed a Sunday in church throughout his whole life, until today. Benjamin had been involved in a minor car accident this morning and was currently sitting in the waiting lounge of the local ER waiting for the doctors to release him.

His head was heavily bandaged and while the doctors were still discussing his head x-rays Benjamin spotted a poster on a wall across the hall.
The poster showed a graphic of a sheep and the quote "Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves - Matthew 7:15". He stared at the poster for a while, wondering why someone would have put it up in a hospital. He also wondered if it could maybe be some sort of sign. His whole life he had been looking for signs to guide him and after the accident this morning, remotely similar to the one his parents died in 30 years ago, he wondered if god had finally spoken to him. As he sat there pondering over the meaning of the quote when the doctor came by to see him. He had a mild concussion he was told, but they had also found a dark area on the brain scan. He said it would take further tests to be sure, but if it was a brain tumour, they would have to act fast and probably operate soon. The doctor did not understand why Benjamin Sinclair smiled and wished him a nice day instead. He would also never return for further tests, as god had other plans for him, so he thought.

Sam and Dean were heading north on the I55 to St. Louis, MO to investigate the haunting of the Lemp Mansion.

"It's said to be hunted by four ghosts, all family members of the Lemp family. They used to own a brewery and have origins in Germany. The family members have all committed suicide when the business went into depression. The suicide note of the last one, Charles Lemp in 1949, read "In case I am found dead blame it on no one but me" " Sam quoted from the papers and newspaper clipping he had gathered.

"Hm, I guess that's one way of looking at it. Man! Suicide is so lame" Dean remarked passionately.

"You can only push a man so far, Dean. Some people have a low threshold for stress I guess" Sam said.

"Oookay pansy. No need to get all "avocate for he weak" on me again." Dean said to brighten the mood a little "So these spirits…ha! Spirits! We should call them Liquor this time…" Dean grinned.

"Why?" Sam asked seriously confused. God, his brother was so slow sometimes; Dean thought as he tried to keep his big grin going.

"Well, ghosts are spirits right and beer is a liquor and as they were brewing beer when they…" Sam raised his eyebrows in anticipation "aaaoow forget it Sam, ok! Forget it!"

Sam giggled. He loved it when Dean's jokes went wrong. Dean however thought Sam had no timing for comedy. Considering the Lemp's were brewing beer when they were alive, it was a quite funny analogy, he thought.

"So, these ghosts are beer brewers from Germany?" Dean asked.

"A few generations back. And yes, Germany is renown for its beer."

"That maybe true, but I prefer a cool Beck's" Dean countered.

Sam looked up at Dean with amusement "You know that Beck's is a German beer brand, right?"

Dean looked at Sam, clearly trying to save his faux-pax.

"Yeah I knew that" he said and rolled his eyes as if Sam was crazy.

"Yeah, right" Sam said and laughed.

Dean cleared his throat and asked what else he had on the case.

"The last one in the family was Edwin Lemp. He died in 1970 of old age. Apparently shortly before he died, he ordered his caretaker to destroy most of the family's possessions to – get this- "break the family curse" "

"Guess the old man was on the right track, but maybe he should have salt'n burned their bones instead. Did you find anything on a family curse?"

"Well, there is this Lavender Lady. She was always dressed in that colour"

"You are right, that is a curse"

"She was the first wife and a golddigger, so the old Lemp divorced her, which created a big scandal at the time."

"Could she have laid a curse on the family as some sort of revenge?"

"It's possible, although there are no references anywhere that she was involved with the dark stuff."

"Come on Sammy! It's St. Louis! Hoodoo's practically everywhere."

Sam actually acknowledged this idea and opened his notebook to google this new lead.

"What do you say we stop somewhere for the night Sam? I don't think these beer brewing ghosts are going anywhere without us."

"Okay" Sam replied "But don't pick another Flagstaff Cheapmotel, okay! That was the first and only night I put up with real bedbugs."

"Come on Sammy! It was great fun watching you scream like a girl, hands waving everywhere screaming "get them off, get them off me" "

Sam shifted uneasy in his seat "Yeah can we please never mention that again" he said and frowned, feeling that itchy feeling coming back.

"Hey, you started it. But I promise no cheapo' motels for my little' bro' no more, who is so frightin' of those mighty bedbugs bitin'." Dean chanted and grinned.

"Amen"

"Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great!

It has become a dwelling place of demons,

a haunt of every foul and hateful bird,

a haunt of every foul and hateful beast" Rev. 18:2)

Benjamin Sinclair had taken his old Dodge Van to the road in search of more signs from god. The old car had led him to St. Louis where, on his arrival, the pale blue sky, filled with thick, grey clouds unloaded bucket loads of rain which saturated the porous tarmac immediately.
As Benjamin watched out for more signs, he spotted the Hopsen Barley Motel. He decided to take a rest and pulled over into the car park. Past the rows of parked cars the van hurled up mucky puddle water, just as Dean was unloading the Impala. The cold water soaked the back of his legs and he quickly dropped the stuff into the trunk to a) look at his ruined jeans and b) to direct a selection of colourful curses towards the green van.

"Son of a bitch" he moaned to himself and tried to shake the clingy feeling of wet denim against his skin off. It only gave him more Goosebumps.

"I am so sorry" he heard an old voice say to him. Dean turned around angrily, preparing a full 3 course menu of defamations, when he discovered, that the van had spat out an fragile old man, maybe 50 or 60, grey hair, full short beard, wearing a 30s style hat. He so didn't look like he belonged to that rusty old van, Dean thought, and he looked indeed really sorry.

"Yeah, no problem" Dean replied, quite lamely he thought, even for him. He suddenly wasn't in the mood to make a big deal of this anymore. He and Sammy had work to do, plan how they would infiltrate the Lemp Mansion to investigate the haunting. He wanted to stay focussed, reserve his anger for some nasty old spirits.

"I am really sorry. I will pay for the cleaning" the old man shouted over to him.

"No really "Dean said with a fake smile "It's okay. Nothing happened"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure"

"Dean, what is…?" Sam started to say as he came out of the hotel reception with the keys, obtained for the fake Mr. Cagney and Mr. Lacey.

He suddenly stopped and looked up, from Dean to the green van to the old man. For a moment he had a strange feeling. Not like the premonitions he used to have, but just a strange feeling, like someone was breathing cold air against his neck.

"Is everything ok?" he asked Dean quickly, watching the old man carefully as he walked over to Dean.

"Yes. Here, take this!" Dean said and pushed the luggage in Sam's arms who wasn't prepared for it and quickly grabbed the goods before they could hit the wet ground.

"I am really sorry" the old man said again, waving at Sam, as Dean snatched they motel keys off his little brother, determined to change into a dry pair of Jeans.

Sam frowned at the old man and smiled politely. Then he used his elbow to close the trunk and followed Dean into their room.

"Man, I hate wet clothes." Dean continued to complain as he peeled the Jeans off. "Pass me my stuff, will you Sammy" he asked and Sam who just had dropped the luggage, fished for Dean's bag and threw it over on his bed.

"So, what's the plan?" Sam asked and dropped himself over on the other bouncy bed, his arms folded under his head. It was nice to be able to stretch out as the Impala was awfully uncomfortable on long journeys and his long legs screamed for space to unfold into.

"The plan is, we grab something to eat, while you look through that magic silver notebook of yours to find us a way into the mansion that doesn't raise suspicion and…are these really beer bottles on the wall paper or am I having visions now?"

Sam tried to look at the wall behind his head, creasing his forehead like and old curtain.

"I think they are" he said in awe.

"Awsome." Dean smiled.