CHAPTER 5
Early evening Sam and I were sitting on the couch sipping a cold one, when we finally heard movement from upstairs. I tensed, expecting a furious Dean rushing down the stairs. Funny enough, after a moment all noises stopped. Sam and I looked at each other in confusion. Then Sam shrugged, downed the last sip of his beer and replaced the empty bottle on the wooden table with an audible thud.
I glared at him briefly and he smiled apologetically. Then he sighed and cocked his head to listen for anything from upstairs.
"Too quiet," I prompted. Sam nodded slowly.
"I'll go check on him," he sighed.
"Want me to come with?" I asked, even though I wasn't sure I wanted to face a pissed off Winchester.
"Nah, I'll holler if I need you," Sam got his big frame off the couch and sauntered over to the staircase. I was resigned to strain my ears and listen. I even muted the TV to make sure I didn't miss Sam calling for me.
Sam's footsteps softened as he reached the top of the stairs. I heard the telltale squeak of the guestroom door opening.
"Dean?" Sam's muffled voice floated down to me. No reply. Soft thuds from Sam's feet moved across the ceiling above me. Still it was eerily silent. Not for long. Sam called his brother's name a second time and like a switch was flipped, the ceiling above me erupted in shuffles and thuds from feet hitting the ground.
It didn't last long, though, and I wasn't sure if I heard a soft moan in between the other noises. Then I heard Dean's voice.
"I swear if you pull a stunt like that again on me, Sam, you'll end up with more than just a split lip." I flinched subtly in sympathy. "And don't even think of asking for my baby's key anytime soon."
Dean jogged down the stairs, followed, albeit a bit slower, by Sam. Ignoring me, Dean went straight to the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack from my freezer. Tossing it to his brother he pulled a beer from the fridge and then came to sit across the room from me in an armchair.
My doctor part wanted to ask if he was okay, but the relentless stare he graced me with made me refrain from uttering those words. Instead I directed them at Sam, who settled next to me on the couch, pressing the ice pack to the left side of his face.
"I deserved it," Sam smirked in way of an answer.
"Damn right you did," Dean growled. "Were you in on it, Luis?"
"Not really," I mumbled.
"Let it go, Dean. You had your revenge," Sam said calmly and tossed the ice pack on the table.
"Bitch," Dean grumbled in the direction of his younger brother.
"Jerk," Sam retorted affectionately. I shook my head and started to laugh.
"You two have a career in comedy waiting if you should ever stop ghost busting," I chuckled and earned a smile from Sam. And if I wasn't mistaken, even Dean's features softened. "So... what now?"
Dean tipped down some beer and then peered into the half empty bottle. "Let me finish this and I'm good to go."
"You want to go now?" Sam asked.
"Sure. I'm wide awake. Never felt better," Dean dead-panned.
"Alright," Sam relented, "as long as your shoulder isn't bothering you."
"I can handle myself, princess. I've had way worse."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Sam muttered under his breath.
I was still wondering if I wanted to know what that was about, when the jingling of keys followed by the distinctive click of my front door opening made me look up. Sure enough I was just in time to see the older Winchester exit my house, closely followed by his brother.
Jumping up, I quickly grabbed my house keys and scrambled into the backseat of the shiny black muscle car parked outside my place with a deep rumbling engine.
"There you are, doc," Dean grinned at me from the rearview mirror. "Almost thought you changed your mind about tagging along."
With that my back was pressed into the seat as Dean pushed down the accelerator and the Impala rumbled away.
***sn***
Dean had parked the car in front of the gates of the eerie looking abandoned estate. The gate itself, a heavy brass ornamented, ten foot high piece of art, was standing ajar. I guessed that Dean didn't exactly bother closing it when he had dragged his brother's body over to the Impala a few days ago.
Finally getting out of the seat, I closed the door to find Sam shoving a crowbar into my hands. "Only got two salt guns," he shrugged. "But that'll hold off any ghost you swing it at if they should come close to you. Iron is just as good as salt."
"You wanna take the doc in?" Dean's voice sounded from where he was rummaging through the trunk of his car. The hidden compartment, no doubt.
"You know, Dean, we might need his help if you and I should be busy occupying the spirits," Sam replied. "You got a lighter?" That was directed at me.
"Um, no," I croaked, "I don't smoke."
Sam took my hand and closed my fingers around something he had thrust in my palm. "You got one now." He smiled at me reassuringly and went to his brother's side.
A moment later the trunk was closed. Dean was holding a sawed off shotgun in one hand and shoved a smallish, flat bottle into one of the pockets of his leather jacket. Noticing my puzzled look he grinned.
"Lighter fluid... those Caspers need to burn. Let's go, Sammy."
I saw Sam rolling his eyes but following his brother and I hurried to catch up with them. The estate itself looked impressive, but every bit as spooky as they make them in horror movies, and suddenly I had no doubt about it being haunted. The hair in the back of my neck stood up.
"You good?" Sam asked casually and I nodded, not trusting my own voice. We walked around to the back of the building where I noticed the open grave of Jeremy, a faint smell of a recent fire still in the air. Both Winchesters checked the other markers and then walked around the whole perimeter, but no additional burial sites were found.
"Not officially buried, makes it so much easier," Dean's sarcasm was tangible as he headed towards the massive stone stairs leading up to what must be the official entrance. Heavy oak doors with two round glass windows that looked like eyes. For a split second I thought I had seen something in one of those windows but as I squinted it faded away.
Sam and Dean were exchanging a quick glance, telling me they had noticed it, too. Sam turned around to me.
"I just wanted to say, Luis, whatever happens, act first and ask questions later," he said calmly, which, for whatever reason didn't do much to soothe my nerves. The memory of my first encounter with a vengeful spirit all those years ago was suddenly back in HD quality.
"Whatever you say, Sam," I choked out, gripping the crowbar tighter. The brothers walked ahead and Dean pushed against the door. It didn't budge. Dean jingled the handle a bit and used his shoulder to push against the heavy oak and with a loud squeak the door moved.
"Not locked?" I wondered softly.
"Figured it might be open. All those teens got in the house, too," Dean shrugged. He looked at Sam, who nodded and pulled on my sleeve to make me follow him. Dean explored the right hand side while Sam and I walked around to the left.
Stale air filled the house, making it obvious that nobody lived in here for years. It was cold and no lights came on when Sam tried a switch. A second later the beam of Sam's flashlight explored the room, and a second beam to our right attested that Dean had followed suit.
Apart from countless dust bunnies and spider webs, nothing spooky met my eye for the moment. No noises, no drafts. Sam and Dean exchanged another look and then Dean made his way up a broad wooden staircase with an intricate railing. I shuddered involuntarily, because from my experience ghosts and stairs didn't mix.
This time, however, nothing happened when Dean climbed the steps and we followed him silently. On the first floor we repeated the exploration of the various rooms but still there was no sign of either of the ghosts. Sam had just vanished into another room while I stayed in the hallway, watching Dean as he appeared from what looked like a bedroom.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he mumbled gloomily and knocked on the paneling of the walls. Still nothing happened. If I hadn't seen with my own eyes what ghosts could do, and I'd seen now again what harm they had done to the brothers, I would probably start thinking there was nothing out there.
Dean was walking along the hallway, still knocking on panels with the butt of his shotgun. Sam had joined him, heading in the opposite direction. I followed him, not really wanting to be far away from the guys and their salt gun.
"What are you looking for?" I asked softly.
"Hidden wardrobes or rooms," Sam explained. "Anything big enough to contain a skeleton." Even though Sam had also spoken softly, Dean must have heard him.
"Those bones gotta be here somewhere," he drawled. His sharp eyes scanned every inch of the place, even the ceiling. Suddenly, he froze on the spot, eyes trained on something above us. I raised my gaze, but I didn't find what Dean was scrutinizing.
"What?" I asked with a frown. All I saw above was an intricately worked, paneled wooden ceiling, matching the pattern on the walls. Sam, who apparently had immediately had caught onto what his brother had found, pointed out a tiny metal latch ring to me.
"Attic?" I gasped.
"Bingo," Sam nodded. "But we need something to lever it open." Both brothers quickly checked but nothing obviously meant to hook in to open it was detectable. Dean sighed and swiftly walked over to us, taking the crowbar I was holding from my grasp.
"Step back, ladies," he said with a twinkle in his eyes. Sam and I complied. If Dean managed to open the hatch it could mean anything. Assuming the bones were up there, the spirits could attack since we were then posing a threat to them. Or something could come falling down the hatch. Or nothing at all could occur. At any rate, I didn't mind backing up a bit.
Stretching out to his full height, Dean could reach the latch with the crowbar. I wasn't sure it'd fit in though. However, it only took Dean three tries to wedge the tip of it through the ring. Changing his angle, he used his weight to lever the crowbar and with an almighty crunch the hatch moved a little.
"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered as fine dust came raining down on him and he quickly averted his head to avoid getting any in his eyes. When the trickling of dust had stopped, he attacked the trapdoor again. This time, the door came crashing down on its hinges all the way.
Sam and I involuntarily backed up, but Dean was almost right underneath the door. He'd put all of his considerable strength into the effort. When the swinging door reached the limit of its hinges, it came to an abrupt stop which seemed to kick off a chain reaction.
A rattling noise sounded and I looked up in time to see a ladder descending downwards like a slide. Dean was standing right in its path and the wooden contraption plowed into him before he could make a move, pinning him to the ground.
"Dean!" Sam was instantly by his side and lifted the heavy ladder so his brother could roll out. "You okay, dude?"
"Yeah," Dean croaked, sitting up and pulling a face. "Peachy." He was holding his shoulder, where I guessed the main impact had been. His left shoulder. The one I'd reset barely two days ago.
"Let me check," I offered, putting my hand on his back to reassure him. Or myself?
"Hands off, doc. I'm good," he shrugged himself out of the contact and got to his feet. My expression probably displayed my disbelief and Dean moved his arm. "See, not popped. Back off."
My mind somewhat appeased, I nodded. A draft from above made the three of us look up into the hole that the door had revealed. My breath hitched and my heart skipped a beat as we were staring right into the angry face of Tyler Edwards' ghost.