Turns out that Elizabeth is about as graceful as a very stoned Hobbit when it comes to climbing over chain-link fences. The boys make it look like an art exhibit come to life while Elizabeth does her best and lets Dean steady her when her feet smack on the ground.
"How do you manage to make trespassing look so graceful?"
"I dated a cheerleader for two weeks and she taught me a few things," Dean says, smiling as they follow Sam inside the asylum.
The gray stone exterior is covered in random bits of graffiti, some of it gang signs, but most of it people's names or quotes. All of it was done in bright colors, the style unique to each person and really cool to look at. The inside isn't much different regarding the graffiti, but the musty smell hanging around is enough to make Elizabeth pinch her nose, so she doesn't have to smell it.
The walls have splotches of mold and water damage, the few bits of furniture left behind are overturned and broken up. It looks like your average hang-out for kids, spooky and easy to get inside. Beer bottles, cans, and cigarette butts are scattered over the floor, evidence of past parties.
"The cops chased the kids here," Sam says as they look around the spacious front room. "They went straight for the South Wing." Elizabeth follows where he's pointing, finding a door with iron reinforcements over the windows and a broken chain lying discarded on the floor. Obviously, someone wanted to keep people out of that part of the building specifically.
"South Wing, huh?" Dean pulls out John's journal, flipping through it and mumbling to himself. Elizabeth stuffs her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, wandering a few feet away from the guys and into a stream of sunshine coming in past a ratty cloth hanging over a window. It's weak, fighting its way past years of grime just to reach the floor, but it's still enough to irritate her skin.
Bobby used to joke that she's allergic to the sun, but she could always see the worry in his eyes when she joined in with a joke about Vampires. She still doesn't know why, everybody knows that Vampires are about as real as unicorns.
"1972, three kids broke into the South Wing." Dean's voice brings her back to the present and she turns so the sunlight hits her back. "Only one survived. The way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place." Dean looks up from the book, his gaze landing on Sam and Elizabeth.
"Maybe that's what this place does," Elizabeth says. "Think about it, the seventies weren't a great time for the mentally ill to be locked away in a place like this. Asylums had free reign to abuse the hell out of the patients and I bet some of that negativity soaked into the framework. Now this place is turning people crazy and feeding off them, fresh meat." Elizabeth walks over to the doors, picking up the rusty chain and spotting where it had been cut to allow intruders inside. "Whoever went through those doors didn't have a key and I bet they let somethin' nasty out."
"Since this seems like the room most people party in, why aren't there more deaths," Sam asks, gesturing around them at the mess.
"Because they weren't partying in the South Wing." She shrugs, pushing on the door and watching as it slowly creaks open before looking at the boys over her shoulder. "Anybody else feel like this is a good time to get back-up?"
"Who ya gonna call," Dean asks with a grin.
"Us usually."
"And you two call me a nerd," Sam grumbles, nudging Elizabeth out of his way so he can go through the doors first. "What else does this reminds you of, Liza? I know you want to say it."
"House on Haunted Hill. Maybe we'll run into Vincent Price or Geoffrey Rush." She hip bumps him with a fond smile. The walls of this wing are barren of graffiti, plain white and stained from years of water damage. There's less debris here too, mostly just old hospital equipment, including a wheelchair that's lying on its side in the middle of the hallway. Elizabeth snaps a picture of it with her phone.
"Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel," Dean jokes. He's trying to draw a laugh out of his brother, but it just falls flat.
"Dude, enough," Sam says snappishly. Dean laughs all the same, a typical older brother.
"Seriously though, you've got to be careful. Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you got." He looks back down at the EMF detector, missing the annoyed look the other two are sending his way.
"Would you just drop the ESP bull," Elizabeth asks, delivering a warning smack to Dean's shoulder. "It's dumb and irritating."
Elizabeth's gaze is drawn up to the ceiling as they continue to walk, and she remembers that scene from the House on Haunted Hill remake, the one where part of the ceiling crumbles and nearly turns Ali Larter into a pancake. She wonders about the chance of that happening in real life, the ceiling finally giving out and burying them in rubble. If that happens then she's definitely haunting this place, she's gonna slam doors and rattle chains and just generally make teenagers wet their pants.
"Is the EMF getting anything or is it a dead end," she asks, sandwiched between the brothers.
"Zip so far, but that doesn't mean the ghosts aren't sleeping the murder off somewhere around here."
"Some spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day," Sam says.
"The freaks come out at night."
"Well, that certainly explains why you're so active during the nocturnal hours," Elizabeth says dryly, laughing when Dean bops her on the head with the EMF's antenna. "Aw, did I hurt that fragile manly pride of yours, Winchester?" With another laugh she skips a few feet ahead, looking back over her shoulder. "Don't look so put out."
"Maybe I wouldn't look it if you put out a little something, Liza."
"Oh, whoa," Sam says loudly, raising his hands. "Hold it. Save the nasty talk for when I don't have to hear it. I'd rather not have to pour bleach in my ears, thanks." She laughs and turns to walk backwards, facing the brothers.
"Ickle Sammy-kins can't handle grown-up talk?"
"Not when it comes to my brother and the chick that's basically my sister." He takes two long strides to that he's slightly past her and then grabs the back of her shirt, continuing to hold it while he walks fast than she can keep up with. Elizabeth doesn't even bother to struggle, letting the heels of her Converse drag against the dusty floor and crossing her arms over her chest.
"This wasn't funny when we were kids and it sure as shit ain't funny now." She's pouting, but Sam can't see unless he stops to look down at her, which he isn't going to do because then she'd be able to squirm out of his grasp.
"Aw, is he hurting that fragile girly pride of yours, Mayson," Deans asks. He's smirking at her, enjoying the opportunity to mock her without her swinging at him.
"Do these look like they belong on a girl?" She points to her boobs, poking them once to make sure he gets the message. It's her womanly pride that's taking the hit, dammit. Dean's smirk turns into a shit-eating grin and then he's biting into his bottom lip the way Elizabeth wants to. It has her wishing this place was a little more sterile and Sam weren't dragging her around like she's a misbehaving five year old. Dean knows it, too. "You're a dick, Winchester."
"That's why you love me, baby." She doesn't bother arguing the point, smiling softly at her shoes and ignoring the red creeping up her chest and over her cheeks.
Sam keeps dragging her through the halls, occasionally peeking into rooms along the way. Most of the rooms are for patients, consisting of moldy mattresses and torn strips of cloth that might have been restraints at some point in time. They stop in one of the bigger rooms, tons of junk scattered on tabletops and stuffed in dark corners; weird body parts are submerged in murky green liquid in glass jars as big as her head. There are no padded walls here, yellowed with age like in the other rooms.
Curious, she stands up completely and Sam releases her top as she walks over to one table, poking at the body of a decapitated baby doll.
"Electroshock, lobotomies," Dean says, looking around. "They did some fucked up stuff to these people. Kind of like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest." Elizabeth snorts at Dean's comparison, shaking her head and staring at him through the gunk in a jar. "What, you got something better?"
"You mean besides the guy that ran this place being a regular Doctor Vannacutt? Nah, I'm good." She moves on towards the chair Dean's standing by, noting the leather straps on the armrests to keep unruly patients in place. She runs a hand over the back of the chair, trying not to imagine what the patients must have went through. "I feel bad for the people that went here."
"Maybe their ghosts are pissed off and possessing people."
"Maybe," Sam says," or maybe it's more like Amityville or the Smurl haunting."
"Yeah," Elizabeth says, wiping her hand off on her jeans. "The spirits could be driving people to insanity." She points at Dean and interrupts him before he can say anything. "Do not compare these guys to Jack in The Shining—that wasn't a ghost doing the driving, it was the actual hotel. Kind of like the house in Rose Red." He closes his mouth with a pout.
Sam gives Elizabeth a long, intent gaze, nodding in his brother's direction. Elizabeth shakes her head, holding up her hands and walking out. She isn't about to bring up the fact that old man Winchester isn't here. Sammy can have that honor and she'll have another look around.
The rest of the place isn't much different from what she's already seen, old medical equipment and weird things that people have brought in overtime are scattered everywhere. She pauses in one room, bending down to pick up a rusty scalpel and turning the dull blade over in her hand.
"Ellicott," a voice hisses from behind her.
"Very funny, Dean. I just don't know what to do with myself." She turns with a dry smile, expecting to find him behind her and met with an empty doorway. Shivering from the sudden gust of cold air, she follows the sage wisdom of Jason Hawes—when in doubt, get the hell out.
She makes it a whole three feet before the door slams shut, refusing to open no matter how hard she yanks on the doorknob or how creative she gets with her cursing.
"Dean," she shouts, beating against the metal door. "Sammy! Get me out of this fucking room!" She kicks it hard enough to send a spike of pain up her leg, letting out a shout when something spins her around by her arm and pins her against the wall. There's nothing there, but she can see the indents of fingers gripping her arms through her jacket. "Let me out!" Her voice has gone shrill and she struggles hard to break free, but the grip is unrelenting.
"Ellicott, Ellicott, Ellicott!" She squeezes her eyes shut, a moldy smell wafting over her face and making her stomach churn. "Ellicott!" And then the door of the room is banging open, slamming against the wall just beside her head as Sam and Dean barge in looking ready for a fight. Sam is the first to spot her, catching her as the pressure releases and her knees give out.
"What happened, Liza," Sam asks gently, turning her head from side to side so he can assess if she's injured.
"I'm not entirely sure," she says, breathless. Elizabeth forces herself to stand, ignoring the way her legs shake. "I found a scalpel and then the door was slamming shut and a voice was hissing at me. It was all really funky. What about you guys? Find anything of interest?"
"Yeah," Dean nods," a name to research."
"Does this name happen to be Ellicott?" Sam and Dean share a look before nodding in unison. "I was afraid that was the answer." Fully tired of this creepy place, she throws the scalpel down and makes her grand exit, leaving the boys to follow behind back to the Impala.
This place can bite me.