Chapter 28

November 2004

Brooklyn, New York

All the way on the other side of the country and the weather was completely different. I was bundled up as warm as I could get, since it was snowing and all. I was wearing my heaviest pair of jeans with my heaviest pair of stockings underneath and a pair of knee-highs. Not to mention I looked like I was 30 pounds heavier than I actually was because of all the shirts and sweatshirts I had layered underneath Dean's leather jacket that I stole from him. And I still felt like my ass was going to freeze off. If I ever had the chance to settle down in one place for the rest of my life I can promise you that it will be back in Santa Cruz, or somewhere like it.

Dean was still grumbling that I had high jacked his jacket as we got out of the Impala and ran into the bar across the street from where we parked. A couple beers and a shot or two of something stronger would definitely warm us up. Also John had called and told us that we could find out about a new job here, so it wasn't all pleasure – surprise, surprise.

"Get a table for us and I'll be there in a sec with some drinks," Dean told me, motioning towards a few tables in the corner. A girl who looked to be my age or a little older, possibly, was sitting on a stool on a platform on the other side of the bar playing her guitar and singing softly over the chatter and I decided to sit nearby her. I'm a sucker for good ambiance. I couldn't tell what she was singing (some classic rock covers, maybe Radiohead) but I could tell she was really good. It gave me goose-bumps as I listened.

Dean came by with two giant mugs of beer and sat down across from me, placing one in front of me. I took a giant gulp out of it and let it start to warm me from within.

"I asked the bartender if he knew what was up but he doesn't know anything other than what's in the newspapers." Dean said before he drank from his own mug. I nodded for a second and then shook my head.

"I'm not even really sure what is in the newspapers. You talked to your dad, not me. Why exactly are we here?" I said. Dean chuckled and shook his head.

"There's something going on at a local theatre, according to Dad some child actors had gone missing for a short period of time and then they turn up a couple days later somewhere in the theatre, dead." The girl up on the platform skipped a chord and fumbled with her strings for a second. I glanced up at her for a second but she was hiding behind a curtain of her curly dark hair as she tried to pick back up.

"Only child actors?" I asked Dean, turning back to him for some more clarification. He nodded over the brim of his beer mug.

"Yeah," he said, then paused to let out a large belch. I gave him a disgusted look and he gave me an innocent look right back. "What?"

I sighed and shook my head.

"What else?" I asked. Dean shrugged.

"Nothing, other than the fact that they all appeared to have died by drowning but each were found in the same dressing room."

Dean and I finished our drinks and ordered another round. By the time we were finished with those most of the crowd had dissipated and we were basically the only ones left. Even the chick playing guitar had gotten up to leave at some point. We decided it was time to take our leave, mainly because the bartender was giving us nasty looks, and find a crappy motel for the night.

Snow had begun to fall again so Dean had me wait just inside the entrance while he warmed up the car and brought it around the front.

"Are you a police officer?" I heard from behind me. I jumped in surprise and turned around to see the guitar chick, regarding me with cold blue eyes. I glanced around unsurely.

"Uh, no?" I said, more of a question than an answer.

"Detective?" I shook my head. She stepped closer and dropped her voice.

"A pedophile?" I opened my mouth in shock and glared at her.

"NO!" I snapped, turning away. I was just about ready to face the freezing cold outside, since the temperature had dropped significantly because of this chick's glare.

"Then why were you two talking about the deaths at the Gavrila Memorial Theatre?" She asked, staring me down. I opened my mouth and tried to think of an answer to tell her but I couldn't come up with anything.

I heard the Impala's horn and turned to see Dean waving me on. I looked back at the guitar chick with her arms crossed, waiting for an answer. "It's hard to explain," I said finally and then turned away and quickly made my way to the car.

"What was that about?" Dean asked. I shrugged and urged him to drive away.

...

The next day we found ourselves at the Gavrila Memorial Theatre dressed up in our suits with one of our many FBI fakes and introduced ourselves to the manager of the theatre. I silently, and bitterly, thanked the girl who accused me of being a pedophile because Dean and I hadn't known which theatre the victims were from until she had mentioned it the night before.

"I'm Agent Tull," Dean said, shaking the old man's hand, "and this is my partner Agent Petty."

"I'm Dewy Henderson, welcome to my theatre!" He said, waving his arm around the front house with a big smile. I raised an eyebrow.

"You do realize we're here in regard to the multiple homicides of minors, not to see the latest production of Peter Pan, right?" I asked. Dewy's smile dropped instantly and beads of sweat started to form on his forehead.

"Uh, well, yes I kind of figured that." He muttered, suddenly very nervous. "It's nothing I'm proud of, but it's best to keep up a positive attitude. Especially since I work with so many children in our company and I don't want them to realize how scared I am."

I nodded, understandably.

"We were wondering if you could give us a tour," Dean said. "Show us where the bodies have been found and let us do a little investigative work."

Dewy checked the big clock that had been painted on the sloped ceiling above the entrance. The smallest hand that ticked every second made me realize that it was a real working clock.

"Uh, well, I've got a rehearsal for our Christmas play coming in an hour," he started.

"Then we'd be more than happy to go off on our own," Dean said. It was obvious that that was the last thing that Dewy wanted.

"How about I show you where the bodies were found and then you can do your investigative work by yourselves. I just need you guys to be low key when the kids get here. They are all ready pretty shaken up by everything." Dean and I nodded and followed Dewy as he led us through a set of double doors and into the auditorium. I was amazed by how enormous it all was since the building from the outside didn't look that big at all.

Dewy led us backstage to the many dressing rooms and stopped in front of the door with police tape crisscrossed across the front.

"All three of the kids were found in this room, in the same position and place." He said. He hesitated before pulling a key out of his pocket and handing it to Dean. "You'll have to forgive me, but I will not step foot in that room. Any questions you want to ask me, you'll have to ask me now, or later."

"Why haven't you shut down the company?" I asked. "Why aren't any of the other actors or stage crew being questioned by police?"

"Everyone was subjected to a polygraph and there was no trace at all of any of the cast or crew on the children." He paused and I swear there were tears in his eyes. "This is all I have. I live in the apartment above the theatre, and if I closed it down then I wouldn't be able to afford the space. I started this place for underprivileged children who normally wouldn't be given a chance. All the crew and most of the adults are all volunteers. We keep this going for the children."

"Even when children are the only victims?" Dean asked. Dewy glared at him.

"You've never had children, have you?" Dean sighed and shook his head. I could tell that Dean didn't really think that this guy had ever had children, either. "If you need me, I'll be in the front of the house."

Dewy promptly turned around and left us to our business. As soon as we were sure he wouldn't head back for something Dean opened the door and I took out our E.M.F. reader from my backpack. We ducked under the crime scene tape and Dean closed the door behind us. I turned on the reader and started to go around the room. Nothing was striking me or the reader as supernatural.

"Rose, come here," Dean said from across the room. I turned to see him scrutinizing the air vent. When I came closer I noticed what he was watching; water was dripping slowly from the lower right corner of the vent and into a puddle on the ground. "That's not supposed to happen."

I held my hand in front of the vent but couldn't feel any air coming out. The other vent across the room was above what I assumed to be the make-up station because of all the mirrors and lights. There were ribbons tied to the vent and it was obvious that that vent was working because the ribbons were blowing from the air.

"There's no air coming from this vent," I said. Dean nodded.

I waved the meter in front of the vent and sure enough it went off. Dean pulled out his pocket knife and starting undoing the screws so he could pull off the vent cover. Nothing was inside the vent; in fact it didn't even look like the vent went anywhere. It was an air vent for show only.

"Weird," I muttered. I pulled out a flashlight from my backpack and motioned for Dean to give me a boost up as I shined it inside the vent. It only went about three feet in before it just stopped. It didn't go up or anywhere. "So, what's the point of a fake air vent?"

Dean shrugged. "Health codes, maybe?"

I moved to get down but something caught my eye. I pointed the flashlight and reached inside the vent, feeling something gooey. I pulled it out and rubbed the black ooze between my fingers before bringing it up to my nose to smell. I crinkled my nose in disgust.

"It's ectoplasm," I said, cursing to myself. Dean let out an exasperated sigh and put me down so he could take a look for himself. He nodded in agreement.

"Time to do some more digging around then," he said. "We'll need to go to the library and see if we can find out what happened here."

"Maybe I should stay behind and keep an eye on Dewy." I said. I really didn't want to go back out into the cold so quickly; it was pretty warm in the theatre, and I wasn't wearing nearly as much clothes as I should be for this weather. As nice as these professional clothes looked, they weren't really built for keeping you warm in the snow. "I'll see if I can get some more information from him; he seemed to know a lot more than he was letting on."

"All right," Dean said. He put the cover back on the vent and we made our way out of the room, taking care to lock the door behind us. Dean handed me the key and I stuck it in the pocket of my coat. We walked back to the front of the house and I watched him leave the building.

"What are you doing here?" I heard someone snap from behind me. I turned around quickly and realized it was guitar chick.

Really?, I thought to myself. I sighed and pulled out my fake FBI badge.

"I'm Agent Petty and I'm investigating the murders of the three minors that turned up in this theatre." I said coolly. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at me.

"Amber, go to your rehearsal." She said. I looked at her in confusion until I realized she was talking to a small girl hiding behind her. I hadn't noticed her before. The girl, Amber, was the spitting image of the guitar chick only she looked like she was only five.

"Are you coming Shell?" She asked quietly. 'Shell' nodded down at Amber and the girl smiled and skipped through the open doors into the auditorium with the other actors who had shown up while Dean and I were investigating.

"Your daughter?" I asked. She glared at me and marched up as close to me as she could; I could feel the tip of her nose against mine. She poked me hard right under my collarbone and I had to step back from the force. I rubbed the spot with a grimace. "Ow,"

"Who are you?" She asked. I narrowed my eyes.

"My name is Rosemary Petty and I am a federal agent. You'll do kindly not to touch me again or else I could have you arrested for assaulting a fed. You wouldn't want that, now would you?" I asked viciously. I was just about done with her popping up out of nowhere and making absurd accusations.

She lost her edge for a moment when she heard the words 'assault' and 'arrested' and I watched her glance into the auditorium.

"I'm only here to help. My partner and I came here to find the killer and stop him from killing again." I said more softly. She nodded and sniffed.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I'm just on edge here. My little sister is the only family I have anymore and we take care of each other. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her."

I nodded in understanding.

"Maybe you could answer a few questions for me," I said, motioning towards the auditorium. She led the way inside and we found a couple seats in the far back, so we wouldn't disturb the rehearsal. I took in the scene before me. There were at least seven kids who were on the stage acting and I could see even more lingering with a few adults backstage. It was surprising to see how many kids were still here working after everything going on.

"You probably think we're all crazy for letting the kids still work here," she said, watching me. I hesitated before nodding.

"It does seem like a huge liability." I said. She nodded.

"But in this neighborhood," she said, trailing off. "There's so much that could happen to these kids outside of the theatre that most of us feel like they are still safer in here. You have to understand that none of the kidnappings have happened when there are adults around. And there are always adults around. It happens when the kids get bored and go wandering around the theatre backstage and up on the catwalk and down in the basement."

"And there weren't any adults watching them?" I had to ask. She sighed.

"It's hard to keep an eye on every kid in the theatre when the adults have their own jobs to do, as well. They're all actors or they work backstage. And after Emmy, the first kid, Dewy started locking all the entrances into the theatre whenever we had rehearsals or performances. There's also a check-in/check-out sheet that the kids have to sign whenever they go off somewhere unsupervised."

"Who checks the locks and the in/out sheet? Do they check it periodically?" I asked.

"The stage manager, a girl named Anna, she checks the in/out sheet every hour she's on duty and she checks the locks before each rehearsal. She's been really good about it and she never forgets." She pointed to the front where two people, a man and a woman, were sitting at a very oddly placed table. "That's Anna and the director, Earl. The in/out sheet is on the table and the kids are really good about signing it. All three kids who had been abducted had signed out, but they never got the chance to sign back in."

I nodded. They did take every precaution that they could to ensure safety in their theatre. And from what 'Shell' told me about the locks and everything, it was obvious why they were so scared. There's no way a human being could get into the theatre unless they were part of cast/crew but to their knowledge someone was still able to get it.

But it wasn't someone anymore. It was something. A seriously pissed off spirit.

"What can you tell me about this theatre?" I asked her.

"Uh, well, like what?" She asked. I shrugged, seeming nonchalant.

"Any urban legends or anything? I've noticed that all theatres like this seem to have one." If she was confused by my question and the topic, she didn't show it.

"Not that I know of. I don't really know anything about the theatre. You'd have to ask some of the crew members or Dewey." I nodded. I was about to ask another question about what play they were doing (spirits in theatres were just as dramatic as the actors, and they were usually really touchy about things like that) when my cell phone started vibrating. I pulled it out and got a text from Dean.

Got in touch with medical examiner. We're mtg him at morgue. Pick you up in 5.

I cringed slightly. Seeing the dead bodies of adults was one thing but I don't know if I could handle seeing three dead children all lined up in a row.

"Got to go?" Guitar girl asked. I looked up from my phone and nodded.

"Can I get your information so I can call if I have any more questions?" I asked. She nodded and pulled out an old receipt from her purse and a pen. She scribbled down her name and number and handed the receipt to me. I glanced down at it – Shelby Casio #555-2345. "When's the next rehearsal?"

"Tomorrow, same time." She said. I nodded and got up, waving at her slightly.

"I'll get in touch, Shelby." I told her. She smiled and nodded before turning her attention to her sister up on the stage. I turned and left.

"Hey," Shelby said suddenly. I turned back to her. "I'm sorry about calling you a pedophile the other night. I'm just really protective, and you can never be too sure nowadays."

I nodded with a smile. "I understand," I told her. I left the auditorium and felt my phone vibrate in my hands.

I'm outside. I left the warmth of the theatre with a silent promise to Shelby and her sister. We'd figure out where this spirit was and what its problem was as quickly as we could. And then… burn, baby, burn.

...

...

I'm SO sorry about taking so long to update. There was an excuse, but then I had just gotten lazy after I fixed the excuse. When I got to my grandpa's house a bunch of the keys on my laptop stopped working so I didn't get any writing done there. Then when I got home more of the keys stopped working. Anyway, I went and bought a wireless keyboard and started to write and just took forever to write this chapter.

Also, I was a little disappointed by how few reviews I had gotten for my last chapter :( I was expecting some more. I'd like to thank everyone who subscribed to the story and added it to their favorites after the last chapter, but a bunch of you didn't leave reviews. I dunno, I guess I'm kind of a hypocrite because I don't leave nearly as many reviews as I should.

So please, please, please leave me some good reviews for this chapter and I'm busy writing the next chapter which I will update as soon as I finish. Maybe it'll be done for tonight, since I kind of owe it to you guys :) Hey, do any of you guys know of a good Sam/OC fic? I've been overdosing in Dean and I feel like I need a little bit of his younger brother.

Love you guys!

-Erin