Nov 1st 2012 - 4:08 PM

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Lucinda

A long slender cloud of black smoke swirled its way between buildings and dark quiet alleys knowing exactly where it was going.  Sickening to say the least, mortals and their loves, the need to have someone to oodle up to and mix body fluids. She had been one once; remnants of shattered memories were fading almost to the point of extinction.  Her only joy now was wreaking havoc on the unsuspecting.   Giving back to society what they had given to her a sweet revenge that would be replayed into eternity. 

Lucinda, otherwise known as Lucy during her earth life, had been watching these creatures for some time now.  The no tell motel was her next target where Mr. Dean Winchester laid waiting for his lady love.  This one would be easy even if she didn�t shape shift precisely.  The jealousy she carried with her all these years over John and Mary, his choice well over two decades prior was a nasty brew about to explode and get uglier.  Hit the Winchesters where it hurt the most would be her final retaliation.  Her species was extraordinary, a demonic presence who had the ability to shape shift rather than possess if so desired.

The demon took shape into its human form as the black cloud touched the earth, her appearance, identical to the one before selling her soul.  An intentional bump to Faith�s elbow strolling past began the metamorphosis.  Lucinda exhaled sharply as if she was kicked in the gut, her body shimmered, eyes glowed and within a blink of an eye she was in her new form.  She shook it off, pushed back her dark waves, twisted them to the side, her face bore a mean-spirited smirk.

Faith

�Hi baby I�m back� a soft grin graced the woman�s lips as she spotted Dean in the hallway.   �Aww� her grin widened seeing Dracora, she offered a friendly nod and tugged Dean�s belt loop.  �C�mon babe� the tip of her nose brushed against the side of his neck and she whispered �I�ve got the beer now it�s time for your show.�   Dean�s smile was that of a man in need of some relaxation with his woman, he eagerly followed.  Lucinda closed the door dimmed the lights, leaving only the flicker of the television to illuminate the room.  She set the six pack on the night stand and pushed him back onto the bed.  �Mm that�s more like it.�  Her silken tresses dropped over her right shoulder as she leaned in and left a hot kiss on his mouth then proceeded to undress him.   �I see you�re more than ready for me� she teased �Dean Junior wants to come out and play.�  The demon was an expert at performing fellatio and would give him a night he would never forget.  A boyish grin on Dean�s face told all.

It didn�t take much for the man to be in his own world of sexual euphoria, she cuddled up to him as he caught his breath, her slender fingertips trailed over his chest, cut abs and to his thigh.  �It�s my turn in a few minutes� she stood and adjusted her disheveled hair.   �I need a bottle of water from the vending machine; I�ll be right back� she gave him a wink �stay naked.�   Lucy stepped through the doorway, her body transformed back into her earth form just in time for Faith to see her exiting and buttoning up her blouse.  The demon�s dark eyes flashed the color of the birthstone peridot, and she quickly walked away before disappearing back into a cloud of smoke.

Sami Remington

Her fingers laced between one another behind her head, Sami attempted to roll over and fell off the bench seat of her Dodge Ram �ah shit� she sat up quickly and rubbed her eyes.  The young blonde scanned her surroundings.  She was at a truck stop, pulled over for the night, since she was too drowsy to continue driving.  The sun began cresting over the horizon, she jumped out of the vehicle, previously dressed in a pair of low cut denims and a wrinkled wife beater with no bra, she was all about comfort on the road.  She stretched side to side, touched the ground with her fingertips and pulled the zippers up on her ankle boots.

Dianna left her managing the club, or so she thought.  Sami was never one to stay behind; within minutes of her sister heading out of the parking lot she had coverage indefinitely and was home packing.  The story of her life growing up, whatever D did, Sami wasn�t far behind.  She�d have tried the same when it came to loosing teeth or dating but the age difference was too great.  With anything else, she was the proverbial little sister, trying to keep up.  D, as she often called her, it was short for the obvious as if it took too much effort to say her entire name.

Sami reached inside her truck, grabbed her bag and headed to the restroom, a quick spiff up of herself and teeth brushing then she�d be on the road again. �Coldwater, Maine� a gruff throaty voice repeated the name of the town from beyond a wall in the restroom.  Unfortunately the flushing of a toilet muffled the sounds.  She heard the words �death� and �mysterious institution,� it was all she could make out.   �Hmm� many thoughts ran through her head.  Sami washed her hands and walked outside, squinting in the bright morning sun.  There was absolutely no one in sight, the place was barren of any truckers or persons mulling around getting some exercise.  �Strange� her hand worked it�s way to her calf and patted her Guardian.

***

Just after her call with D, the address was entered into the gps app on her iphone, which she�d tweaked somewhat to give her verbal commands and plugged into the stereo in her truck it would be another three house before she arrived.  �That is some sleazy motel� her upper lip curled when she finally reached her destination.  Luckily she was armed with bug spray and Lysol wipes.  �D� her brows scrunched �why not a nicer place, the Hilton or something with room service?�  Sami complained slipping her military sized backpack over one shoulder.  The woman wasn�t spoiled by any means, she just preferred �clean.�  The last place they stayed at a mouse ran across her pillow in the wee hours of the morning, scared the shit out of her.  Sami stood on the bed and shot it.

�Wake up D I�m here!� four loud thumps on the hollow door should be enough to wake up the rooms on either side.  �Come on!� she pounded more �Open up I gotta pee.�  She danced around a little, all those empty water bottles on her floorboard could attest to how she was feeling  �D!  It�s Sami!� Her fist pounded �do I need to blow the lock off this door?  God finally!�  She stomped right in, dropped her things and headed straight into the restroom, leaving the door ajar.  A long sigh of relief could be heard.  �So what�s going on in Cold water, you sounded urgent?�  She wondered if D realized she�d been only three hours behind her, after all there was several empty beer bottles on the nightstand, her mind may be a bit fuzzy.

Nov 1st 2012 - 4:03 PM

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Faith

Faith was walking back towards the hotel room when she saw the red head emerging still buttoning her blouse.  The woman�s disheveled appearance said it all.  She froze in place staring in disbelief. The slayer�s first instinct was to confront them both. This would only end in her putting both of them in the hospital. It would ruin her whole attempt at redemption. The second impulse was to go down into the parking lot with a baseball bat to fine tune the impala. Bashing in the head lights, taking out the windshield, knocking off the rearview, and denting the sides would be hell of a way to blow off some steam. He would get the point then. He cared more about that machine than her. She was furious, but this course of action would only harm Sam and Rachel. It would take their only mode of transportation. She shook her head. It was more than she could deal with right now. She needed to calm down before she attempted to handle this.

She turned on her heel needed to put some distance between her and the motel room. Maybe she could catch the first bus out of town in the morning. She was used to being alone. For now all she wanted was to be numb. It was tearing her apart inside. He was the first person she had let close to her in over a decade.  The only person she loved like this. She made her way down to the impala nabbing Rachel�s unopened bottle of vodka from the back seat. The walk ways of the hotel were on the outside of the building. There was a stair well on the other side of the hotel facing an empty parking lot. She could sit back there in peace with the wind blowing through her hair allowing her mind to travel.  The beer under one arm and the bottle in the other she headed out back taking up a place on the bottom stair well. She cracked the bottle open sipping on the warm clear contents.

The worst part was she wanted to confide in her best friend but he was the one that had committed the betrayal. The more she stewed on it the more she downed the drink in her hand. The normally strong slayer had tears in her eyes wiping them off on the back of her hand.

Sam Winchester

Sam Winchester sat on a flat rock on a slope above the motel, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting squarely in his broad hands. From his vantage point on this surprisingly clear morning, he was able to gaze eastward towards the coast across the vast expanse of Maine�s lichen-drenched coniferous forests.  On the south facing slopes were copses of oaks and other broad-leafed trees, and in the distance the forest disappeared into fog banks that enveloped the near-coastal waters and rocky beaches.  The forests reminded Sam of Dracora�s home world, the Dragonrealm, where after the evil of the seven bloodstone pendants was vanquished and her world was restored, the forests regained their ancient grandeur and fathomless mystery.

But this was Maine, not the Dragonrealm.  Dracora had come to visit Sam, sensing his loss and deep isolation.  He missed her and missed that other world that seemed so much richer than his own.  But she could not stay. She reassured him that all was well in her world and that he could now resume his life here, that he need not worry about her.  Order had been restored in the Dragonrealm, and Dracora and Graco ruled once more with kindness and love in their big dragon hearts for all the creatures of their world.  And in turn, they were loved by the all the other dragons, the humans, the naiads, even those multi-legged spiny creatures that lived in hollow logs deep in the forest.  Of course Dracora and Graco were loved, for who could not love them?

Dracora and Sam had shared a hug and a smile and then she departed from his life again.  It wasn�t enough to wash away the blues completely, but her presence and the intense bond they shared helped clear his mind a little.  He realized how deeply he�d fallen into a funk. Hence his decision to climb this hill for a broader perspective on his own world, and his own life. He knew he would see her again and that their bond was eternal.  But she had a life and purpose in her world, just as he had a life here.  He knew that he must resign himself to the fact that Dracora would not have a daily presence in his life.  He would only have the opportunity to gaze into her remarkable blue eyes on rare occasions.  Moreover, Sam Winchester and Dracora would never be a couple.  His thoughts wandered back across the years to Jessica Moore, Ruby, even the ridiculous spell-based marriage to Becky Rosen.  Jessica was dead, Ruby was nowhere to be found, and the relationship with Becky was the product of a sick, puppy love and magic.  No doubt about it, Sam was doomed in the relationship department.

Speaking of the doomed, Sam glimpsed Faith Lehane who emerged from a corridor between two blocks of motel rooms and then took a place on the outside metal steps leading to the second floor of the motel.  Even at this distance she looked like a cat�s tail.  Pissed about something, although pissed or exuberant or angry � some form of extreme emotion � was Faith�s modus operandi.  Faith did nothing half way.  It was all or none.  People like that tended to be disappointed a lot.  She sat just like Sam with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands.  It looked as though her mood swing had busted a chain, sending her flying from that emotional swing set into the mud.

Sighing, Sam stood and stretched.  His head was muzzy and aching a bit from the Genuine Draft breakfast of champions and a rough night in the sleep department, but maybe he could do some good for a change.  Begin that transition back to his own life here in Mundania.  Or Maine, wherever the hell he was.  It was so easy to lose track.

Sam plodded down the hill and with his hands in the pockets of his Army surplus jacket, he smiled at Faith as she looked up from her place down in the dumps.  From the look in her eyes, which were red with anger or pain, he wasn�t sure, she�d fallen pretty hard this time.  He took a seat next to her on the steps.  �The sun is shining, there�s not a demon nor a monster in sight, and if I didn�t know better the world almost seems like it could be all roses, smiling, shiny people, and warm pizzas from here on out.  Nothin but a wide open highway and a full tank of gas in the Impala.  We could go anywhere and be anyone we want to be.�  Sam didn�t believe that, but it sounded good. �So why the glum face, Faith?�       

Castiel

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

He had once been the most faithful and loyal son and caring and loving brother. He had once been an Angel of Heaven, devoted to doing God's will and abiding by his father's rules and wishes. He had once never had to question his own actions or second-guess himself. He had once been feared by many creatures.

And then, the Winchesters had come along.

Dean Winchester; the most handsome and incredibly stubborn man that he had ever come across in his entire existence. Sam Winchester; the abomination with a great deal of intelligence and human compassion. And, Rachel Winchester; the most beautiful and captivating young woman that he had ever had the privilege to lay his unworthy eyes upon.

The small family of three hunters had given Castiel more than a simple human experience. They had given him friendship, companionship and a family. They had shown him what it actually truely meant to be a human. They had given him the confidence to rebel against Heaven and his brothers. They had given him a push in the right direction to discover freedom. Rachel had given him her love, her bed on occasion, and even a child.

He had run away! He had run as fast as his legs and his wings could possibly allow him to. His mind had been a maze of thoughts. His entire body and being fought between the rules of Heaven and his love for the young, blonde haired Winchester girl and the forbidden abomination that she carried within her womb. Impregnating a human woman was punishable in Heaven by death. He should have been given the death penalty. He would have much prefered that then to have ever allowed himself to cause Rachel so much devastation. For every tear that cascaded down her pale cheeks, it felt as if a piece of him fell into the depths of Hell. In the end, his love for Rachel had won. His return to her, however, had not been like the fairytales had portrayed.

Dean had hit him, clobbered him across the jaw with an almighty right hook, and then had proceeded to inform Castiel on just exactly how much he had destroyed the blonde's life, reminded him how much pain he had caused. Sam's reaction had been different. He had not uttered one single word, but simply glared at him with his arms folded angrily. Neither of then had allowed him near Rachel. He was forbidden to see her, or speak to her. For months. Castiel followed the three Winchester siblings, watching as Rachel's stomach grew rounder with his child, waiting for an opportunity in which he could speak to her alone, away from her brothers.

Judging by the size of her stomach, the fallen Angel guessed that his beloved must have been around seven months pregnant. He knew that she would not have dared gone into a hospital or a Maternity clinic for tests, examinations and scans, just incase the doctors and nurser discovered something unnatural with the baby. Rachel would have been relying on her maternal instincts to judge whether or not the baby was alright and healthy. Castiel was rather unnerved as he watched the young blonde woman enter Maine's newest club alone. At her stage of pregnancy, should one of her brothers have escorted her? It angered him a little. Did Dean or Sam care for the safety of their little sister, or her unborn child?

Castiel strode across the busy road, ignoring the honks of the cars as their drivers swurved to avoid hitting him. This may be the only chance he had to speak to Rachel without either of her protective brothers interrupting. The club bouncers did not bother to stop him and ask him for indentification. The pair of them simply stepped to one side and allowed him through the doors and into the venue.

They should have stopped him.

He really wished they had stopped him.

Castiel's anger rose as he heard the sweet sound of a giggle pass through Rachel's slightly glossed lips as she tucked her cell phone away. Only he used to be able to produce such a sweet sound from her. Had she started seeing someone else in his absence? Perhaps, that was why she had come to the club alone, to meet with the guy. Was he going to raise Castiel's child as his own? The fallen Angel shook his head slightly, attempting to rid himself of his anger. He needed to prove to Rachel that he could be trusted, that he still loved her and that he really did want to raise their child by her side.

He reached out, his fingers curling around her elbow as he made contact. Her skin felt softer than he remembered, her body temperature had risen by a few degrees. It felt so good to be able to touch her again.

"What the He... Cas?!"

Castiel had not noticed that he had closed his eyes. If he had not opened them in time, the Angel would have missed the sour look residing upon Rachel's beautiful face, nor would he have been able to catch her fist before it made impact with his jaw. She was so much like Dean.

"It is lovely to see you, Rachel." He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her, just like he had done on many occasions in the past. He did not wish to push his luck. The anger that shone from Rachel's blue eyes pierced at his heart. She hated him, with every cell in her body, and he could not blame her. "I believe that we really do need to talk, discuss this situation. Perhaps, we should go somewhere a little more private and quiet?"

"I ain't going anywhere with you! I'm calling Dean!"

Faith

Faith watched as Sam plopped down beside her, �why don�t you ask your brother?�  She wrapped her fingers around the neck of the vodka bottle bringing it to her lips once more. A tear began to form in the corner of her eye she wiped in away with the back of her hand. She reached over on the other side of her to pull a beer from it�s case and pass it to Sam. �There is no we Sammy. I won�t be going anywhere with you guys,� she began down more of her drink. She stared silently off in the distance for a few minutes. He was staring at her confused.  She could feel his eyes boring a hole in her. �Looks like I am not the only one your bother has been getting his naughty on with. The red headed chick leaving his room looked like she had been scratching his itch. She was still getting dressed when she left,� she finished off the last of the clear liquor tossing the bottle out into the parking lot. She then reached down grabbing a beer for herself.

The slayer had finally had one too many. She began opening up far more than she intended allowing Sam to see a different side of her. Things she had told no one came tumbling out. The reason she had trouble trusting men up til now and all the bad past relationships when she was younger. Then there was Dean. The relationship ran deeper than a couple of buck wild hunters. The two of them had been a couple of latch key kids that had to raise themselves basically. They were both thrusted into this life expected to be heroes. They had traveled similar roads. They grabbed a couple more bottles of Budweiser. Sam began sharing with Faith his own heart aches. A few more drinks and the case she was sharing with the hunter was almost gone.

Faith was no longer thinking clearly. One thing began leading to another. She took the beer out of Sam�s hand pressing her lips against him. The next thing Faith knew she was waking up in a strange hotel room. She was disoriented at first placing a hand on the side of her pounding head. She looked over to see a man sleeping face down next to her. It was then she realized it was Sam. This was Sam�s room. What had she done? Where were her clothes? The two of them had stumbled up stairs toward the vending machines. She thought her top had end up there. The rest was a complete blur. She began shaking Sam awake, �Sam, Sammy.� He wasn�t stirring. She fell backwards on the bed pulling the sheet tight around her. What was she going to do?

She had tried, and failed, to suppress the little giggle that had fallen from her lips as she slipped her phone back into her shoulder purse. She could imagine her eldest brother's facial expressions when he read her text, the redness of embarrassment and the roll of the eyes as if to say 'look who�s talking'. Hopefully, Dean would not see her text as mothering, which Rachel was infamous for. She couldn't help it. Both of her brothers meant the entire world to her, especially since Castiel was being very un-angel-like. It was almost as if the Angel had become obsessed with her. He had come knocking at the motels they stayed in, left her apology notes tucked under the windscreen wipers of the Impala, left her hundreds of missed calls on her cellphone. Castiel was bordering on stalking. If he wasn't an Angel, Rachel would have killed him by now - father of her baby, or not.

Rachel Winchester

Somedays, she found herself wondering about him. The blonde knew that Castiel was sorry for what he had done, for the hurt he had caused her but she couldn't care less about that. Before she had gotten herself pregnant, their relationship had not exactly been great, but she had trusted him. With a baby on the way, Rachel needed to be able to trust him not to walk out on her again. She really thanked her lucky stars that Dean and Sam were as supportive as they were. They didn't exactly have to stick around. They could have just dumped her in some town with enough cash to see her through, and left without looking back. Faith, however, had been brilliant! Dean really scored lucky with that girl. With all the stress and the hype that came with the job, nobody really gave two thoughts on what they were going to do once the baby had been born. Rachel had not even brought a pack of baby diapers, let alone baby grows or formula. Her brother's girlfriend had given Rachel the only baby thing she had; a pair of socks. Okay, they were blue, but nobody knew what sex the baby was going to be. The blonde Winchester wasn't exactly stupid enough to go to the hospital and get it checked out. Hell, her unborn baby could have wings for all she knew. No, they had to wait and see - even though she wished for a girl. Her family had enough men already.

And then, someone grabbed hold of her elbow, rather tightly. For a split second, Rachel thought it had been one of the club's bouncers, deciding that the club would be too dangerous for an unescorted and heavily pregnant young woman. "What the Hell..." Then, she saw him. Castiel, still wearing his bloody trench coat. His eyes looked older, his skin looked paler. He actually looked a little thinner! Rachel felt her heart skip a beat for him, before the wave of uncontrollable anger set in. "Cas!?"

She swung for him, which must have been cause for one hell of a giggle for anyone watching the CCTV cameras. Nobody expected a young woman with a belly full of baby to attempt to swing for a man twice her size with a stronger build. He caught her fist in his hand, just as easily as he always had. How dare he!? He couldn't show up on her night off, especially not in a club! He couldn't show up at all; he just couldn't! Rachel had been happy enough to continue with her life without setting her eyes on him again. After everything that he had done to her, he deserved no less. Castiel wanted to talk. She had gathered that the very second she clapped eyes on him. He wouldn't have stalked her to the point it bordered on obsessive if he didn't. Rachel didn't want to talk, or hear a word he had to say. To Hell with her night off! She wanted to go back to the motel, run to her brothers and nibble on gerkins and ice-cream as she listened to Sam and Dean discuss their plans to kill the Angel once and for all.

"I ain't going anywhere with you! I'm calling Dean!"

Castiel still had her elbow in his tight grip, as she slipped her free hand back into her shoulder purse to retrieve her phone. Out of the corner of her blue eyes, Rachel noticed the two club bouncers staring at her, debating whether or not to ask if everything was alright. If Castiel wanted to, he could do both men some serious damage if they interrupted. Rachel still had no clue what the Angel was capable of, but she would not put anything passed him. She quickly pulled out her cell phone, and dialled her eldest brother's number before she hovered her thumb over the 'call' button. Maybe, she should give Castiel the chance to talk and try and prove that he was trustworthy. Just, give him five minutes, perhaps. He could have his say, and she could tell him never to bother her, her brothers or her baby again. Or, they could give their relationship another shot, just to benefit the baby. Rachel didn't exactly want her child growing up with just one parent, like she and her brothers had.

"Okay." The blonde let out a long sigh, as she yanked her elbow out of Castiel's grasp. She stood her ground, refusing to move anywhere, keeping her thumb where it was over the 'call' button. The music wasn't loud enough to interrupt their conversation, nor did she want to leave the sights of the bouncers. "You've got five minutes."

Nov 1st 2012 - 4:01 PM

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OOC: written by Dianna and Dean

Dean had dozed off after Faith left him nude and satisfied. When he jerked awake a few minutes later and Faith still hadn't returned with the water he became concerned. He sighed and threw on his boxers and jeans. He poked his nose out the motel room door but saw nothing. Maybe she's talking to Sam he thought. But there was no answer at Sam's door either. This was just down right weird. He went back into his own room and grabbed his cell phone. He dialed Faith's number. It went straight to voicemail. "Hey, Babe. Where are you? How long does it take to get a bottle of water, huh? Well, I'm out looking for you. Call me back when you get this." He threw on a t-shirt and went back outside. He saw no one. He didn't even still feel Dracora's presence. "What the hell?? Where the hell is everybody?" Dean decided to walk over to the convenience store to see if Faith had felt the need to go to the store and bypass the hallway vending machines, though he couldn't imagine why she would do so. But he didn't have any better ideas.

He did a circuit around the motel first just to make sure she wasn't outside smoking a cigarette. He really wished she would give up the nasty habit, but she didn't chain smoke so he didn't nag her too often. She wasn't anywhere to be seen, so he sighed and loped across the street to the little mart. There was no one in the store except the clerk on duty. Dean was becoming increasingly confused. Horns honked at him as he crossed the street against the traffic light on his way back to the motel. It was full on dark now, and Dean was genuinely worried about where his slayer had gotten off to.

He checked their own room once more. She still hadn't come back. He hoped Sammy had returned to his room cuz he was going to make him come out to help find Faith. Dean pounded on Sam's front door. He heard movement from the inside this time. He pounded again and heard his brother groan. "Up and at em, Sammy!! I need a hand, Bro. Wake up!" He pounded a third time and Sam finally cracked the door open. "Come on man. You gotta get dressed and come help me find Faith. I'm getting worried. She said she was going out to get a bottle of water and that was over an hour ago." Dean pushed against the door but Sam stayed where he was. Dean pushed harder. "What's the matter? I don't care if you got a girl with you, Sammy. Just put your pants on and let's go." Dean pushed again and Sam stumbled back just enough for Dean to slip inside. Sure enough, Dean saw brunette hair splayed against one of the pillows.

Dean was about to turn his head away when something caught his eye. The watch on the woman's left wrist looked a lot like Faith's. Dean slowly approached the bed and reached out to brush the hair from the woman's face. His lady love's face stared back up at him. "What the fuck!!! What the hell??? Sammy...Faith....how could....Jesus Christ! This is fucking insane!!!" Dean found himself concentrating just to take each new breath. He rubbed his eyes, but she was still there afterward. Faith was covered by the bed sheet, but there was no doubt that she was nude underneath it. Sammy had pulled on pants and stood silently. Dean cocked a fist to plow into his brother's face, but he pulled his punch at the last second. "Fuck it! You two want each other? You can have each other." He turned to face Faith. "You literally went from my bed to my brother's bed!" he spat at her. "I guess I'm just losing my touch, huh? Well I hope the two of you are delerious together." Dean slammed the door with all the power he could muster on his way out.

 

_________________________________________________________________________

Dianna came back to consciousness slowly. Her head was a bit fuzzy, her tongue felt sandy and twice as large as it should be. She felt much too hungover for the four beers she had drank the night before. There was an odd pounding in her ears too. Then she realized that the poundng emanated from her motel room door. Sami's voice accompanied the pounding urging her awake. "I'm coming!" she shouted at the door.

Dianna opened the door and Sami rushed past her to the restroom. Sami queried from the restroom about why she was here. "You must have driven straight through when you got my call. You must be tired as hell." Dianna pulled the remaining two beers from the mini fridge, popped the lid from one and took a long swig. She handed the other one to Sami when her sister exited the restroom. "This seems to be a strange, dirty little town. But it doesn't matter.  I was too late to do anything about the case I came here for. Seems a small group of hunters handled it. But there's  been some very strange things going on in a little town right next to this town." Dianna began to peel off her clothes as she headed to the bathroom for her morning shower. "Pets are disappearing all over one small neighborhood, and right in the very center of this neighborhood is a cozy little psych hospital." Dianna poked her head around the bathroom door as she closed it almost all the way. "I think we need to see if we can find out what's going on." Dianna closed the door but shouted through it to continue talkng to her sister. "I'm going in as a psychatrist. I hope you packed a business suit. If not you can borrow one of mine. I brought the navy and the black."

_____________________________________________________________________

Dean was hurt and confused. Faith was the female side of himself. Well, he had thought she was any way. It just didn't make sense. He climbed into the Impala and pounded the steering wheel furiously. He reached to turn the ignition but stopped. A door opened few doors down from his own room and a beautiful redhead emerged. She walked over to and unlocked the Mustang. "Are you coming, Sami?!" she shouted back at the room.

Did she yell for Sammy? How many women has he been..well......Just what the holy fucking hell was going on?!!!! Dean got out of the car and went back into the room to retrieve his weapons backpack. He dropped the bag on the pavement by the trunk of the Impala. The redhead reached into the Mustang's drivers side and blared the horn. A slightly younger blond woman finally joined her. They were dressed conservatively. They reminded him of himself and his brother when they were preparing to interview witnesses to whatever case they were working. The redhead opened the trunk of the Mustang and withdrew a gallon of water. She used it to fill two flasks. She handed one of the flasks to the blond woman and put the other in her own pocket. He thought he saw the glint of a weapon beneath the black coat she wore as she slammed her trunk closed.

Dean recalled how often he deflected people's questions when he identified himself as a federal officer of some sort. Most of the doubt centered around the Impala. It wasn't a vehicle most feds drove, and it drew more than its share of attention. They didn't drive Mustangs either. Dean smelled a case. In fact the hair at the nape of his neck stood out and goose bumps rippled up his arms. They couldn't be feds. Dean was convinced they were hunters, and his curiosity was piqued. He wanted to howl his frustration and beat his brother down, but instead he decided that he was going to follow the two women and see just what they were up to. He didn't need Faith or Sam. He always had the hunt, and it seemed that was what he was doomed to. No regular life for Dean Winchester. No permanent relationship either.

_________________________________________________________________

Dianna put the address into her phone's gps system and pulled out of the motel parking lot. When she reached the end of the block she glanced into her rear view mirror and noticed the black Impala as it left the parking lot and turned in her direction. She shook her head and did an immediate right. At the end of the block the Impala once again appeared behind them. Dianna smiled and pointed him out to Sami. "Looks like we have company." Dianna flipped a quick u-turn and backtracked then stopped dead in the road as the Imapala approached. The driver realized he had been busted and came to a stop next to her. Dianna leaned out her window to address the driver of the Impala.

"Nice rig." She flashed her brightest false smile at the handsome man behind the wheel. His green eyes flashed. "I noticed that you have been studying the rear end of my car. Thinking of trading in that sweet machine?"

"This sweet machine?" Dean patted the door affectionately. "Nahhhh.....this is my baby." He smiled back at Dianna. "But you have a nice rig yourself."

"Thank you. Wanna tell me why you're following me?"

"Uhhh, not really...no."

"Hmmm...I see..." Dianna turned to her sister. "Do we know this dude?" Sami shook her head. "I didn't think so." Dianna turned her attention back to handsome guy. "Well it's like this, Dude. Either you tell me why you're following me or my sister and I will tie you to a tree." Sami opened her door and glared at him from over the Mustang's roof. But she left no doubt that she was ready to help her sister carry out her threat.

Dean hated being out numbered. He sighed.."I'm a hunter."

"Are you now?" Dianna looked around. "I don't see any game around. Do you?"

"Not that kind of hunter, and I think you know it, cuz you two lovely ladies are hunters too." Dean stopped smiling. "I think you're checking out a case, and I want to know what it is."

Dianna's mouth dropped open in sudden epiphany. "You're one of the hunters that solved the string of murders here in Coldwater, aren't you?"

Dean shrugged. "Could be."

"Uh huh. Ok. Yeah we're on a case. You can come if you promise to follow my lead."

 

"What's your plan, and where exactly are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there. And my plan is to escort my patient into the facility, and find out what is killing all the domestic animals within a two mile radius. How good are you at emulating crazy?"

Dean thought about his experience with the wraith in the mental institution before. It was one of the most difficult cases the Winchesters had handled. Outside of the apocolypse anyway. "Yeah I think I can do that. But you'd better damn well have my back if I do. I've already been screwed over by one woman today."

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind. Just make sure you have my back."

"We both have your back." Dianna gunned the Mustang's engine and drove away with a squeal of tires. The Impala pulled around behind her and she finished the trip to the neighboring town.

The place looked peaceful enough. Dianna had parked across the street from the 'Davis Memorial Mental Health Facility". She watched the place for unusual activity but saw none. After a few minutes she and Sami exited the Mustang. Dean joined them, and they entered the facility with him between them. He had put a dazed look on his face and he glanced around in apparent paranoia. Dianna silently approved. He was good. They might actually pull this off.

Castiel

Five-minutes. The Angel had to physically force himself not to allow his eyes to widen ever so slightly with shock. Was it even possible to portray every single emotion that he held within his body in a simple five-minutes? He had guessed that he should be extremely thankful that the beautiful blonde had not told him to leave her alone, or that she had called her brother for assistance. If five-minutes were all that she would permit him, then Castiel would use them, to the very last second, to make her see his side of the argument. He had to make her understand. But, how did he begin?

"I am sorry." The Angel breathed out a long sigh of relief, as he allowed his eyes to take a quick glance at Rachel's pertruding stomach. He longed to place his hand on it, feel their child moving within her, but he knew that it was not his place. "I am so very sorry that I walked out on you. I should not have done so, but I was scared. I was scared for myself." He tore his eyes away from th blonde's stomach, to look her in the eye, trying to give her enough reason to believe him. "Our child is forbidden. Our love is forbidden. Everything about us is forbidden by Heaven. If my brothers and sisters were to discover your pregnancy, I will be sentenced to death. My existence will not be spared like yours would be."

That was not reason enough. The bored look that shone from Rachel's blue eyes did nothing but prove that. There was no doubt within his mind that she may have already started to regret giving him the time of day, let alone five-minutes to explain himself and his actions. The entire speech that he had prepared and perfected in the last few months seemed to have evaded his mind, leaving Castiel with nothing but a blank canvas and his emotions to work from.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Angel noticed a young couple walking out of the venue doors, arms wrapped around each other, smiling and laughing at a private joke. His heart ached. There had been a time when both himself and Rachel had done that. He had to simply smile down at her to get some kind of positive reaction. He had taken it for granted. He had taken her for granted. "You need to believe me, Rachel. I love you. I want to give our relationship a second chance. I want to be a father to our child."

Castiel could not give a damn if anyone had stopped to watch his rather public announcement, declaring his love for Rachel and expressing his wishes. He did not care if anyone noticed the tears whelling up in his eyes, almost blinding him.

"I need you to trust me. I need you to believe me. I need you to give me another chance. I will not walk out on you again. I love you. I want to prove to you that I mean what I say and what I promise!"

Rachel's facial features were easy enough to read to those who knew her. A simple jerk of her thin eyebrow meant danger, a slight movement of her lower jaw meant to back off. But, a stone-cold expression meant something completely different. There was no smile playing on her soft, slightly glossed lips, no life in her blue orbs - nothing. Castiel felt his heart slowly breaking, his hopes leaving his entire being. His heartfelt words and pleas meant nothing to her. His past actions towards her had done nothing but harden the already hard exterior she held. He had not only destroyed her life, but he had changed her as well.

"What have I done?"

Was there any wonder as to why Dean and Sam no longer wished for Castiel in their lives? Had they been protecting him from Rachel's reactions, intentional or not? He could not give up that easily. The Angel had defied Heaven, his father, his brothers and sisters for the three Winchester siblings. He would not allow an argument to destroy what he and Rachel could have, the future they could have together with their child. Perhaps, it was all a little too much for the young pregnant woman to take in at once. Her hormones must be playing havoc with her body, mental and emotional stability. Was it entirely fair that he was unloading his feelings onto her as well?

She looked tired, drained of emotion and rather angry. That cocktail of emotions had been considered a lethal combination. Anyone who snapped Rachel's last nerve, before she fell pregnant, quickly found out about it. Pregnancy could only have made her worse.

Sam Winchester

What. The. Fuck.

This could not possibly be happening.  Faith was lounging in his bed apparently in post-coital bliss.  Sammy felt pretty blissfully spent himself.  He now understood why Faith had been Dean�s main for a good long while.  Faith was like a playful tiger in bed � a tiger with all the right equipment and the ability to maul her partner into the ultimate sexual high.  She was rough, but in just the right way.  And talk about endurance!  It must be a Slayer thing.  But he couldn�t recall how they got here.  He�d been distressed over Dracora�s absence, then the dragon woman from that other world miraculously showed up at his door, and Sammy�s spirits soured only to have them dashed on the rocks again when she left.  He had found Faith on the steps of the motel.  Dean had been unfaithful.  No big surprise there, at least not to Sammy.  Sam didn�t think Dean comprehended the whole concept of fidelity.  At least not until Dean found Faith in Sam�s bed.

Sam sat in a chair by the bathroom, his head in his hands, and his bare feet flat on the floor.  He and Faith had been talking.  Sam had tried to comfort her.  He�d put an arm around her shoulders.  But how did they wind up in bed, going at it like academy award winning porn stars?  And the award for Best Sex with your Brother�s Girlfriend goes to�drum roll�Sam Winchester!!!

�Oh Shit.�  Dean had been royally pissed.  Why he didn�t thrown a punch was beyond Sam.  Throw a punch or shoot him.  What would Sam do if he found Dean in bed with Dracora?  There�d be blood between the brothers for sure.

Faith was gazing at Sam with a look that oddly matched his own feelings.  With the sheet pulled up around her, concealing her nudity, she looked confused.  Sam didn�t have the time or energy to think what that might mean.  He felt dirty, but he couldn�t stay in this motel room.  He couldn�t stay long enough to take a shower, besides, what if Faith joined him under that spray of hot water?  Although at the moment it seemed more likely that Dean would come at him with a knife, like Anthony Perkins intent on murdering Janet Leigh.

Sam pulled on a t-shirt, his socks and boots, and grabbed his Army surplus jacket.  That�s all he really needed.  Then he headed for the door.  Faith was still watching him and he supposed he needed to say something to her,  �Faith, that was�I don�t know what that was, but its not gonna happen again.  I gotta get outa here.�  Sam Winchester slammed the door behind him.

Outside things seemed better.  Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He could smell hamburgers cooking over at the diner and the bouquet from the trellis of flowering Virginia Creeper lining the motel�s walkway.  It was midday now.  Some big puffy white cumulus clouds were mushrooming up into the southern skies, but their edges were darkening as if some nasty storm was slowly infecting them, turning them to the dark side.  Sam suddenly wished he could take a shower.  He smelled Faith all over himself.  Faith and sour sweat.  �Shit.�

He needed some time alone, some time to think.  He couldn�t confront Dean or anyone else right now.  And what was he going to tell Rachel?  He took his leather wallet out of his hip pocket and opened it up.  He counted 56 dollars, plus he had a Mastercard, but it was probably maxed out or nearly so.  Fifty-six dollars wouldn�t last long, but it didn�t matter.  Sam Winchester walked to the highway and stuck his thumb out.  When a guy in overalls and a Boston Red Sox cap pulled his 1960�s era Ford pickup over to give Sam a ride, the guy asked where he was headed.  Sam got in the old pickup, laced his hands together in his lap and just gazed up the highway.  He replied.  �Anywhere but here.�        

Nov 1st 2012 - 4:00 PM

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Dracora

"MY deepest apologies, My Queen." Graco's voice rumbled through Dracora's mind. Dracora had spent only a precious few minutes with her bond companion. "You are needed here, My Love. I would not call otherwise."

Dracora sighed audibly. The needs of her realm must be attended to. The balance between cultures was still a delicate one, and Dracora understood better than most how easy it was to upset that balance. She reached up to take her bond companion's face in her hands. Then she stood on her tiptoes while gently pulling his face closer to her own. She softly touched his lips with hers. "That is the human expression of affection, is it not?" Sammy smiled, and his cheeks flushed red. "I know I have just arrived, but I must return home. Graco has called, and he would not if it weren't vitally important. That is the cost of being the primary Monarch. I apologize, Bond Companion. I will return when I am able. I promise." Dracora reluctantly released her bond companion, and with a heavy heart left him once more.

She arrived home to find her entire court in near chaos. The entire Council of Elders had gathered in the Royal Gathering Cavern. Dracora found Graco pacing at it's entrance. He roared formal greeting when she approached to let the elders know that their Monarch had arrived. Dracora really hated the formalities, but the Council insisted upon them. They believed it preserved the grandeur of her position.

She had assumed her brown aspect for this meeting. It was a form she rarely wore, but it was the largest and most physically powerful of the dragon aspects. She wanted to remind the Council that all final decisions were hers to make. She entered the humungous chamber and took her positon in the center of the Council Circle.  Graco entered and assumed his position by her side. The Elders rose and bowed to their Queen. Dracora growled dismissal and they broke the circle then split into two groups and flanked their rulers on both sides. The meeting had come to order. Dracora gazed down each side in turn. Every Council member was present and accounted for. Even the tiny yellow sun Elder was present though she wore her alternate form, in her case a tall slender female elf. The power of the sun Elder in her natural form was blinding. Every draconic race was represented today. It was a rare occurrance, and any decisions that came from this meeting would be inviolate. Only the most profound circumstances could bring them all together in one room.

Dracora fell into the formal mode of discussion. "We would inquire which Elder has called us together today."

The response she got was totally unexpected. Graco answered her. "No Elder, Your Majesty. I have convened this meeting."

"Very well, King Consort. You have our full attention and the attention of the Council as well. Please tell us why we are gathered here then."

Graco glanced at each member of the Council as well as his liege and his mate. "The human king has some concerns. He says that there have been reports of rogue dragons feeding on his people's livestock. It is against draconic law to steal from the humans, so we must locate and discipline the transgressors. I believe they are the remnants of Grako's forces."

"How many incidents have been reported?" Elder Brown wanted to know.

"Over a dozen so far." Graco responded.

"We must of course resolve this favorably for the humans." Dracora contributed. "But we cannot delay the implementation of the new dragon/human treaty." She turned to address her mate. "Is this going to affect our negotiations?"

"It has already, My Queen. The human Monarch has withdrawn from negotiations until the situation has been resolved."

Dracora considered this bit of information. "Very well. I want royal troops assigned to guard the human settlements where this has occurred and as many nearby settlements as we have the dragon power to cover without endangering the court. If the human king sees that we are willing to guard the humans' best interests and clean up the source of their troubles then maybe we can get this treaty formalized." Dracora glanced around. "Is there anyone who has any objections to that course of action?" No one spoke up. "Very well. Revered Elders, your guest caverns are available for your repose. The royal forests are yours for your hunting needs while you are here." Dracora rose to her feet, and the Council once again rose and bowed before her. She bugled their dismissal, and they all wandered from the Gathering Cavern talking among themselves as they left.

"Is the human king stiil in attendance here at court?" Dracora asked Graco.

"He is, My Queen."

"Have him escorted here to discuss this with us."

Graco sent one of the guards whose alternate aspect was also human to find the human Monarch. The royal couple transformed to their respective human forms. The human king walked into the cavern only moments later cheerfully chatting with his draconic escort. He was also accompanied by another human male. He called this man his 'Champion'. Dracora understood that station to be the equal of her own Captain of the Guard, Vritra, who would most certainly accompany either Monarch on a foreign visit. Dracora and Graco both inclined their heads in peer acknowledgement when he halted before them. He returned the gesture. "You requested my presence, Your Majesties?" the human king asked.

"We did Your Majesty, King Aston." Dracora responded. "We have been informed that rogue dragons from our former nemesis' troops have been harassing your farmers by eating their livestock. Is this information correct?"

"It is, Queen Dracora. While I am aware that these rogues are not condoned by your court, I must insist that this problem be addressed immediately. My people cannot continue to lose their valuable food resources."

"I understand. I have sent draconic troops to guard your people's livestock and track down the perpetrators. I will recompense each of your farmers for the losses they have already incurred. Will this be satisfactory for completing our negotiations?"

"It will certainly go a long way, Queen Dracora. Many of my people have decided to take up dragonslaying as a result of this incursion. I have of course declared dragon hunting to be illegal for humans, but we have our rogues and criminals too. But I will sign the treaty if it does indeed provide recompense for my people's losses."

Dracora summoned the scribes with the treaty and had the changes made. She and Graco both signed it and pressed their personal seals into the small pools of blue wax that were dripped at the bottom of the scroll. The human king and his Champion did the same thing. The Council's ratification was immediately called for. It was approved without a single abstention. 

As Dracora allowed the human king to clasp her right hand a sudden blinding pain wrapped itself around her skull and she very nearly collapsed. Graco sensed her distress and rushed to catch her before her petite body connected to the floor. She struggled to remain conscious. The human king wore a look of genuine concern, and Dracora knew this new friendship would be recorded in both of their species histories as one of the strongest political alliances in each of their histories.

"Are you all right, My Queen?" Graco whispered.

"My Bond Companion is in serious distress. I must return to his world. I must assist him." The pain abated. "My sincerest apologies, King Aston. I must leave. I hope for a long friendship between our species."

"I can see that you are sincere in your commitments." King Aston nodded his approval. "If you refer to the same young man who fought with you for your throne, the one I believe you claim a bond with, then I certainly cannot take offense at your loyalty to him. It bodes well for our own relationship, Your Majesty, that you feel that way. When you return I shall have both Your Majesties as my honored guests in my own court."

"I look forward to it." Dracora left Aston and Graco deep in a discussion of the type that males of all species seem to enjoy and flew to her old glade. The portal still shone brightly. She marveled at it every time she saw it. It was composed partly of the essence of a dead girl from Sam's world, and it was only visible to dragons of royal heritage, for it was also composed of the magically infused heart of her own father, the late King Draco. It was his heart that made the bloodstones that had eventually become her link to Sam's world. This time Sam's world was bathed in sunlight. She assumed her moon aspect. She would keep her flight at the greatest possible of heights, her irridescent blue scales would blend with cloudy blue sky. She launched through the portal and ascended above the clouds.

She felt his troubled mind, and she sent the kind of warm reassurance that only a Bond Companions can offer. He was traveling, but he was not with Dean and Faith. In fact Dracora's lessor bond with Dean combined with Sam's sorrow and alarmed her. She felt Dean's anger at Sam. It was somehow tied to Sam's sense of loss and despair. The Winchester brothers were estranged it seemed. Dracora knew that it required a special crisis to fracture the group that had become her only friends on this world. But it was Sam who had the deepest bond with her, so it would be Sam that she would go to.

She had warned Graco before she left this time that she was to be considered absolutely unavailable for governance unless war was threatened. He had agreed, so her time belonged to her Bond Companion for the duration of his need. His travel was steady and considerably faster than if he were afoot. She assumed that he was in one the human's metal beasts. She tracked him and adjusted her course to intercept the metal beast he was in. She gave no thought to the human who was with Sam in the beast as she swooped back to earth transforming to her human aspect as she landed on the stone ribbon on which the beasts tended to travel. The beast squealed and left a funny smell on the stone as it came to a halt.

"I will take you wherever you want to go, Bond Companion." She sent into his startled mind. "And I will share your burden until we can find a way to ease it." She held her arms out to him as he scrambled from the beast.

Lucinda

An eruption of laughter; her monstrous bellow could be heard over the entire underworld, her master, the diabolical king of hell would be so pleased.  A tigress, hmm, she liked that word and quickly shape shifted into a Bengal and licked her paw. Yes that tigress Sam Winchester spoke of was none other than herself.  He proved to be a much better lover than Dean, who seemed prefer to be on the receiving end sexually rather than on the giving end.  Mm Sammy was much like his father was in bed, strong, dominant, slow and passionate, he had it all.

A little roofie in Faiths drink knocked her out and a little ecstasy with a little magic in Sam�s made him putty in her hands.  Her next step?  Lucinda�s cackle became hideous and more evil, a dragon may be fun to toy with as well.  Bond Companion?  Her laugh roared, isn�t that just a different word for lover?  Without the significant other knowing it as such?  This is too much fun, what ever happened to burning in hell are we allowed to have this much fun?

Lucy took the form of a bum and brushed against a blonde as she entered the parking lot with a redhead.  Adding a little more magic to the mix the blonde otherwise known as Sami Remington was moved to an alternate world where she would carry on her life as if she were in the dreary town of Kansas City.  A curious Lucinda now took her place, slipping past a tiny break in a salt line of the vehicle.  She was about to wreak more havoc than the likes of the Winchesters or Remingtons had yet to see.

Sam Winchester

A tingling way deep in Sam�s Medulla Oblongata � the old part of the hindbrain � told him that Dracora was back in this world again.  He immediately felt guilty, or even guiltier, if that was possible.  Because he�d inadvertently dragged her into his own foul boiling pot of drama.  His emotions must have set his bond with Dracora thrumming with negative energy.  Again.  What he�d just done with Faith and to his brother was something he�d rather not think about, let alone share with someone else.  But the bond between himself and Dracora made it inevitable that she would know, which sent Sam spiraling even further into a vat of self-loathing.

The good fellow who gave Sam a ride was talking.  In fact he�d been yammering  non-stop, although Sam hadn�t processed a single word.  Still, he seemed just pleased as punch to have somebody to talk to, whatever it was he was saying.  The man looked to be a mechanic, with his oil-stained overalls and grease-caked fingernails.  A toothpick protruded from a corner of his mouth, but it didn�t deter him from talking a mile minute.  The guy had a whiskey nose � enlarged, bulbous and pocked with pores big enough for something to take up residence inside of them.

The man�s eyes suddenly went wide, he stopped in mid word, and his mouth formed a big �O� as he slammed on the brakes and the truck fishtailed almost into a ditch.  Dracora was standing in the middle of the road.  Sam jumped out, ran to her, and gathered her into his arms for a big hug, even though he knew he smelled bad and must look a fright.   �Dracora, I�have so screwed up.  Faith and I�� he looked into her eyes but couldn�t bear to tell her.  �I hurt Dean.  Hurt him real bad.  I don�t know how this could have happened.�

The guy in the truck was leaning across the seat and smiling broadly, proudly showing off his three teeth on the top and two on the bottom.  �Bring the little lady along for the ride!  The more the merrier!�  He chortled and guffawed like it was the funniest thing in the world.  Sam looked up and down the two lane highway.  There was absolutely no civilization in sight.  He supposed Dracora could change into dragon form and fly them both somewhere, but a dragon wafting overhead might raise suspicions in the Maine countryside.  �Come on Dracora, lets take this ride into the next town.�  Sam climbed back in the truck and sat awkwardly in the middle with Dracora taking the window.  He didn�t really want Dracora to have to sit next to Mr. 5-teeth Overalls.  Soon they were back on the road again.  The driver stuck out his hand across Sam�s lap, �Name�s Ripley, ma�am.� He was waiting for Dracora to shake his hand, but Sam wasn�t sure she even knew about that customary gesture, so he took Ripley�s hand and shook it himself.  �That�d be Walt Ripley, but folks �round here just call me Ripley, believe it or not!�  Another outburst of guffaws and cackles bubbled forth ending in a snorting session that required him to pull a checkered handkerchief from his back pocket to blow his nose.  For some reason, Sam always associated the name Ripley with Sigourney Weaver in the Alien movies, rather than Ripley�s Believe it or Not.  Not that Walt Ripley looked anything like Sigourney Weaver. 

Sam wanted to tell Dracora what was going through his head, but he couldn�t � not when their driver would hear everything as well.  Besides, he suspected she could read him � that he didn�t really need to talk.   Meanwhile, Ripley kept up his end of the conversation, which by the way was the only end of the conversation.  Sam actually listened to some of what he was saying and as he did, he realized something wasn�t quite right.  Walt Ripley was talking about the upcoming presidential election and that there�s no way in hell he�d vote for one of those �gall-derned Democrats�, but then he said he hoped that when Mr. Goldwater got into office he�d nuke the Russkies all the way back to hell.  Rolling to and fro on the floorboards was an empty soda bottle.  Sam reached between his legs and plucked it in mid-roll to examine it.  The label read Nehi, a brand Sam had never heard of.  The bottle looked like an antique, but there were still remnants of amber liquid in the bottom.  That and a dead fly.  The AM radio was playing country music, and one of the few such songs Sammy would recognize � �Crazy� by Patsy Cline.  The same Patsy Cline who died in a plane crash in Camden, Tennessee in 1963.   Patsy�s sad voice and lilting melodies seemed to affect Ripley because he stopped babbling nonsense and wiped a tear from his eye with that big checkered handkerchief, which like his overalls was splotched with oil.  Apparently it was an all-purpose handkerchief.  Nonetheless, Sam didn�t like this.  Something cold and multi-legged had sprung to life on the back of his neck and was beginning to burrow its way into his Medulla oblongata.   Meanwhile, the road ahead seemed to have narrowed, the trees were taller and thicker, overhanging the road, and one of those puffy cumulus clouds turned evil dark had squatted right above them, effectively abolishing any potential for brightness or contrasts to characterize the day.   

�Hey Mister, I think we can walk from here.  Can you let us out, please?�  Ripley waved his hand dismissively, �But one more mile and you�ll be at your stop.�  Sam frowned because he hadn�t designated a stop.  He�d just said he wanted to get away from Coldwater.  So the man drove on for that last mile then pulled to a stop on the shoulder of the road across from a massive four story structure set deep into a woodlot of old, twisted half dead oaks.  Sam peered past Ripley at the gray stone building with its tiny, barred windows and 7-foot chainlink perimeter fence topped with concertina wire.  A weathered sign read 'Davis Memorial Mental Health Facility�. A big, pregnant drop of rain splattered on the windshield, and then another.

�Now go on! Git!  The both of you!  End �a the line.  Last stop.  This train don�t go no further.  �Sides, this is what you came for, this is your destination.�  So Sam Winchester and Dracora got out of the truck as instructed.  Walt Ripley grinned through his five teeth and waved as he put the truck in gear and piloted it back onto the pavement, but before the old Ford had gone 30 feet it started to disarticulate and then just dissolved altogether into the lowering grayness of this Maine afternoon � nothing but a small cloud of mist remained, which was quickly dissipated by a gust of wind.  Yet the voice of Patsy Cline lingered a little longer, drifting on phantom AM radio waves across the years:  �Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you, I'm crazy for trying and crazy for crying, and I'm crazy for loving you��

Nov 1st 2012 - 3:59 PM

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Rachel Winchester

Her face really did say it all. Rachel couldn't deal with a heart-to-heart. Not now. Not on her night off. She couldn't handle an emotional Castiel right now, not when she was trying to prepare for a lifetime of motherhood, single or with her baby's father. She didn't really care. Did he really have to do this here? Couldn't Castiel have suggested meeting for coffee to talk things through? No, no, no! That was what got them in this mess in the first place. This unexpected meeting may not have been fair on Rachel, but did he really have to cry? Was he becoming THAT human?

As she listened to everything that the Angel had to say, the blonde Winchester did start to feel sorry for him. She couldn't help it. Her hormones and emotions were all over the shot, thanks to her pregnancy. But, she did manage to prevent the tears from brewing in her blue eyes. Instead, Rachel simply allowed a small sigh to escape from her lips as she rubbed the back of her neck with her hand. As much as she wanted to hold him and take him back, she knew that she couldn't.

"I do love you, Cas." Rachel finally allowed herself to speak. Castiel deserved to hear the truth, not lame excuses. "I really do. But, I can't trust you." She couldn't look him in the eye. A hard lump formed in her throat as she struggled to find the right words to say to him, ones that wouldn't anger him. "You walked out on me when I needed you the most. You've royally pissed off my brothers to the point they don't want you speaking to me. And, you've been stalking me and my movements!" Rachel didn't want to get upset or wound up, but there was no chance in Hell she would ever stop herself from speaking her mind. "Right now, I need to be able to trust you before I let you back in my life. Words don't mean anything to me anymore, Cas! You need to physically prove to me and my brothers that you deserve to be let back in. You know I don't want this baby growing up like we did. I didnt know my mom, and I want this baby to know it's dad!"

Her blue eyes fell to the cell phone in her hand, Dean's number shone from the bright screen. Did she really want to disturb whatever plans he had with Faith? Did she really want the Slayer and her eldest brother mad at her for disturbing their 'happy time'? The idea to phone Sam did pop into her mind, but she really didn't want to disturb him either. He had most probably fallen asleep to try and kill some time. Rachel really needed one of her brothers to come to her aid. Her night off had been completely destroyed the very second that Castiel had been allowed through the doors of the venue. Neither Sam nor Dean would probably forgive her if she didn't let them know that she was in some sort of trouble, especially in her condition. A text would have to do. That way, she wouldn't disturb either of her brothers. They could reply to her whenever they felt like it.

'Help!'

Rachel's heart hammered away in her chest as her fingers made easy work at the cell phone keypad. As much as she hated texting, she felt like she would crumble in a fountain of tears if she heard either of her brother's voice. The young blonde had wasted too many tears over the Angel, but she was far too stubborn to allow Castiel to see her crying, despite how frightened and alone she felt.

"You need to go." She finally spoke, after what seemed like an age of silence, her eyes finally meeting his. As much as Rachel would have loved to see her brothers standing up to the Angel on her behalf, she knew she wouldn't be able to deal with them fighting again.

Faith

Alcohol had never affected Faith this way before. The slayer�s head was pounding her stomach was in knots. The attempt to talk to Sam had been in vain. He had just begun to roust when there was a knock at the door. She fell back on the bed closing her eyes. To make matters worse the visitor at the door was Dean. She didn�t think she could feel any lower than she did last night. This was before she saw the look in his eyes. It hurt worse seeing his heart break then when her own broke. She jolted up right holding the sheet protectively around herself. �Dean,� she couldn�t take him looking at her like that. He had almost punched Sam.  �What the hell,� she stood up approaching him. What was that crack about going from his bed to Sam�s? He had a red head in his bed! He spat at her storming off.  She stepped back plopping down on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands still trying to make sense out of what had happened.

She had looked up at Sam still lost and confused. He had once been her friend. She didn�t know what she expected from him, some sorta council or at least to talk to her. Instead he bolted out the door rambling how it wasn�t happening again. �Sam it wasn�t like that,� she called after him. She didn�t want him in that way never had. She had changed no longer the promiscuous girl from her youth her desire was only for the older Winchester. The way the both of the men had looked at her made her feel dirty, cheap. It was as if she was beneath them. A mixture of hurt, anger, and heart break consumed her. A few tears began to stream down her face. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. She then got up attempting to assemble what was left of her clothing. The room was a wreck. Some of her clothing was missing, but she make due. Grabbing one of Sam�s tee shirts she head towards the bathroom locking the door behind her. She took a shower making the water as hot as she could stand it in an attempt to wash away some of the filthy she felt. Once she showered she dressed ready to get the hell out of dodge.

Faith was almost out the door when she suddenly thought about Rachel. Had anyone attempted to contact her during this whole fiasco? The girl had enough on her plate without dealing with this, but she needed to know what was going on so she sent her a text. I am not going to be your favorite person. I messed up last night. Please find Dean. Watch out for him. Make sure he is alright. He needs you. And Rach tell him��.No one can take his place She pocketed her phone then headed out of the room into the parking lot. Most of the patrons had already left for the day. One lonely grey car was parked at the far in of the lot. It was an old Pontiac 6000. The paint had faded but other than that for an old car it appeared to be in fair condition. She folded her arms watching the car until she knew no one was watching. Then she made her way over slipping into the driver seat to hot wire the old vehicle. It was clean well kept. The only debris was a newspaper folded on the front seat with a article about trouble at the local asylum.  She barely took note of it before setting out she had no idea where she was going just away from here.

The radio stations were preset to country. She hit seek until she found the local hard rock station. The sound was a bit more fitting for her mood. She tapped the steering wheel as she barreled down the road. The metal beast had a full tank of gas. It appeared to be an excellent start to putting some distance between her and the past.  The car suddenly began to sputter. The check engine light came on. It was losing steam. She didn�t even notice at first the change in the radio station. One minute Seether was blaring through the speakers. Now there was a woman crooning something about being crazy. It wasn�t only country it was old country. She just assumed she had bumped one of the buttons while she struggled to keep the beast going. The more she pressed the gas peddle though the slower the thing seemed to move til it finally stopped in the middle of a wooded area.

Frustrated she hopped out slamming the door and kicking the tires releasing some of her pent up frustraion. Why couldn�t it have lasted long enough to get her clear of this place. She ran her fingers through her hair noticing the large building in the distance.

OOC: Written by Dean and Dianna

Dean kept his eyes averted from everyone and shuffled quietly between the two women. His gait combined with his facial expressions labeled him as paranoid with possible schitzophrenic tendencies. Sami had clasped him by his elbow when Dianna approached the front desk to flash her ID. The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "A psychiatrist for the FBI? Is he dangerous?"

"I was told you have a bed in a private room available." Dianna intoned in a voice that said she expected her wishes to be met and met immediately.

The receptionist was startled. "I wasn't told to expect anyone."

Dean glanced up at the receptionist and gasped out loud. Eris' face gazed serenely back at him. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Sami tightened her grip, and he briefly glared at her. When he looked back at the receptionist Eris was gone, and a thin strawberry blonde had replaced her. It had to be a result of all the recent stress he thought. A post traumatic stress thing.

"Of course you weren't." Dianna responded allowing a small amount of disdain to creep into her voice. "This a need to know case. You don't need to know. Now, do you want to get an orderly to show us to his room, or shall I call my supervisor?"

"We'll need to fill out his intake forms and give him a physical first." The receptionist insisted.

"Give me the forms. I will see that they are filled out accurately." Dianna held out her hand and the forms were reluctantly handed to her. "I will consent to a physical, but I must be present when it is performed. This is for everyone's safety. And I cannot allow you draw blood. Needles make him...well...let's just say no needles for now." Dean flashed a predatory gleam in the direction of the skinny blond just to punctuate Dianna's words. Dianna placed  a hand on his shoulder as if preparing to bring him under control if necessary. The receptionist blanched and paged an orderly.

The orderly took only seconds to arrive. He reached for Dean's arm and Dean snarled at him. Dianna pulled on his shoulder as the orderly jumped back. "Just lead the way." She told the startled man who nodded and led them down the first hallway to room number four. It was tucked in the corner and afforded them a bit more privacy than Dianna had dared to hope. There were fresh linens on the twin bed along with institutional pajamas. Dianna dropped the papers she held on the bed and picked up the blue sleepwear then held it out to Dean. "Here ya go,....ummm....fraid I don't know your name." She extended her right hand. "Mine's Dianna Remington, but my ID says Dr. Lola Newhouse, so it'll be Dr. Newhouse." Dianna gestured at Sami. "This is my sister, Sami, aka Agent Peterson."

Dean relieved her of the pjs efore she ended up tossing them on the floor as she gestured with that hand. He shook her hand. "Dean Winchester. So, we made it in. Now what?"

"Now we figure out exactly what we're hunting." Dianna stated flatly.

"You mean we don't know? Just what has been going on then that makes you think it's a case?"

"A lot of dead animals in this neighborhood. This facility is dead center of the activity. So I think whatever is doing it is connected to this place. So if we want to find out what we're dealing with, it seems to me that this is the place to start."

Dean found himself nodding. Again he thought of the wraith. Things that hide in asylums tend to hide well, and they had to know what they were after before they could flush it out and gank it. "All right. That makes sense. Thanks for the thing about the needles by the way. I really do hate the things." Dean chuckled lightly. "Dead animals could be a lot of things. Witches, hoo doo, voo doo, demonic ritual.......Vengeful spirits like to kill animals too. It could even be a monster we haven't faced yet. I hope to God not, but you never know. I guess we keep our eyes and ears open. We should let em do that physical." Dean grimaced at the thought. "We have to get a look inside the exam room...and everywhere else for that matter." Dean glanced over at the blonde Remington just in time to see her face shatter like glass then reassemble itself. He shook his head and blinked his eyes.

"Are you all right, Dean?" Dianna's voice washed over him. He was hit by a sever bout of vertigo and sat down hard on the little bed dropping the pjs and planting his fists over his eyes. "I'll assume that's a no." Dianna sat down beside him.

Dean dropped his hands from his face. "I'm ok. Really...I'm fine. Just over tired."

Dianna looked at her sister. "Go tell that orderly that I want a B12/glucose liquid prep." She smiled at Dean. "Better than an espresso sweetened with an energy drink." Dean's eyes were filled with suspicion. "I'm actually a medical doctor in reality...well among other things. I run a clinic in Kansas City." Sami left the room to fulfill Dianna's request.

"Long way from home, aren't you?" Dean eyed her curiously.

"I heard there was a case in Coldwater. Seems I was a bit too late on that one."

"You're lucky you were too late on that one. It got a bit nasty."

"I believe it."

The orderly came in with the liquid suspension Dianna had ordered and handed the paper cup to Dean. "Bottoms up." Dianna urged. Dean downed the concoction and grimaced. "Wow! That was nasty sweet!" The orderly remained beside Dean while he drank the stuff.

_____________________________________________________________

The physical turned out to be mercifully short. Dianna let them take Dean's vitals and listen to his lungs and heart. Then she escorted him back to his room and dismissed the orderly. Sami was gone, but Dianna didn't panic. She assumed that Sami was out trying to get the lay of the land."Lay low if you can for now. I'm going to make sure I'm the only one who has access to your files." She waved the paperwork that she hadn't bothered to fill out. "I want to get a glance at the patient files, but I don't know where they are. I need to see if I can figure out at least that much. I'll be back soon. I left orders for you to stay undisturbed."

"Ok. Hey, doc...good luck. And don't take too long, huh." For half a second he swore the ceiling was on fire, and he caught his breath. Dean leaned back on the small bed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again the ceiling was intact again.

"I won't." Dianna promised. She went to the front desk. "I need to see all your physicians' caseloads."

"That's confidential information." The receptionist continued doing what she had been doing when Dianna approached. Dianna reached across the narrow desktop and turned off the girl's computer monitor. "I can call in Homeland Security if I have to, but those guys get pretty grumpy and then pretty destructive, and well......it deteriorates from there."

The girl sighed. "Fine, but I don't know anything about it."

"Just go take a smoke break or something. No one has to know."

The girl considered it, and apparently decided it would be easier to do it Dianna's way. She finally shrugged and came around the desk and headed for the front door. Dianna slid into her vacated chair and repowered the monitor. The files she requested were open. The girl was compliant at least. This facility was small and had only ten beds. There was now only one empty bed. There were two psychiatrists listed, the patient load seemed evenly divided between the two. Drs. Casey and Devore listed their private offices as their homes. It was certainly bad news for her. At least she knew which patients were treated by which doctor. and where their files would be. She printed out the page she was reading.

A tall man and a petite brunette woman walked through the front door just as she walked from behind the desk. She tucked the printout into the file she carried of 'Dean's intake paperwork'. She nodded at them and returned to Dean's room. He was just returning his phone to his pocket. "My sister just sent a text, and all it said was 'help'. I think you might have to get me back out of here."

"Any way to find out how seriously she needs you? This case isn't trivial. Lives are stake here."

"I texted her back. Told her I'm on a case and gave her this address, but if she doesn't answer I gotta go get her. She's pregnant, and I can't leave her on her own if she's in trouble."

"Are you fricking kidding me? You brought a pregnant woman on a hunt. Geez, I think you may be in the right place. That is just insane!"

"You don't know Rachel. I'll wait to see what she answers before I leave."

Dianna shook her head as she wondered just how reliable this new guy really was. If he bailed in mid case, she was going to have to do some mad scrambling. At least she knew that he had finished the last case he was on.

Nov 1st 2012 - 3:57 PM

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Rachel Winchester

Castiel had promptly vanished into thin air, with a slight gust of wind and the sound of faint wings. The blonde Winchester could not help but breathe a huge sigh of relief. Things could have gone a lot differently, possibly worse. She was a good fighter, most probably one of the best, but there was no way in Hell she would last two minutes against a pissed off Angel. She could guess that Castiel really didn't want to face her brothers, not again. It was his fault they were so over-protective towards her in the first place. If he had only stayed...

A vibration against her hipbone, shortly followed by a playful trill that was her text tone, quickly brought Rachel out of her thoughts. With her back pressed against the wall, she dug her hand back into her shoulder purse to retrieve her cell phone. She had two new texts. Rachel felt her heartrate rise a little as she opened the first message from Faith. A wave of panic washed over the young blonde. 'Find Dean. He needs you!' Something major had happened, obviously. The Slayer would not had texted her otherwise. But, what had happened? Was Dean in trouble? With trembling hands, Rachel opened the second message, feeling her stomach twisting itself in knots with worry. Her worry, however, was short lived.

Her eldest brother was on a hunt, already?! Damn! How long had it actually taken her to walk from their motel to the club? Granted, getting from one place to another did take her twice as long these days, but surely she couldn't have been that long! Why was she not informed of this hunt before he left the motel, and why wasn't Faith with him? And why did Faith think that she would not be Rachel's favourite person? Rachel's blue eyes read the address on the screen of her cell phone, memorising it as quickly as she could. The local mental asylum. She knew it woke involve a taxi ride to get to him as quickly as it was possible. Heaving another huge sigh, the blonde Winchester almost ran back through the venue's main doors, ignoring the looks of confusion from both of the club bouncers. As soon as she hit the road, she stretched her arm out to hail down a taxi.

"On my way! I'll fill you in when I get there!"

8888888888

Her blue eyes never watched as the taxi driver drove out of the loading bay of the mental asylum. As soon as she had paid the driver and slammed the door shut behind her, her legs moved as quickly as possible through the visitor's entrance. The events of their last case within a mental asylum ran through her mind, making Rachel determined that she would not let such events happen again. Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel noticed an orderly shooting her a rather disgusted look; one that she had seen many times in the past recent months. She had heard the harsh whispers from passers-by, judging her. Normally she would have stopped and given the orderly a piece of her mind, but she was far too focused on finding Dean.

As she approached the receptionist's desk, the blonde's mind drew a blank. If Dean was on a case, would he have used a fake name and I.D? But, wouldn't he have told her that in his text? The middle-aged woman behind the desk looked bored out of her mind, her eyes scanning a gossip magazine through thick glasses, her mouth chewing a piece of gum. Whatever story she was reading must have been interesting, as she completely ignored Rachel as she stood at the desk. That was quite an accomplishment. Rachel was very hard to miss these days.

"I'm looking for Dean Winchester. He was admitted today." The blonde spoke, finding herself rather annoyed at being ignored. The receptionist simply glanced up over her glasses at her, her mouth still chewing. Very unprofessional. Rachel folded her arms across her chest, ultimately resting them on her swollen stomach as she perked a thin eyebrow at the woman. "Dean Winchester, you want me to spell it out for you?"

"Come back during visiting hours tomorrow." The woman grunted, her eyes falling back down to the magazine on the desk.

Did her employers know that they paid this woman to sit on her ass reading a magazine? Rachel felt her temper rising within her gut. She had been through a stressful ordeal, was very close to tears and found herself wanting a comforting hug from her brother. Grinding her teeth against each other, the blonde Winchester slammed her hand on top of the page the woman was reading, very quickly drawing her attention once more. "Dean Winchester. What room is he in?" Her eyes narrowed slightly as she fought to control her anger. From behind her, Rachel heard a pair of heavy footsteps closing in on her. The only other person she had seen in the reception area had been the orderly who had given her such a look. Places such as this did not exactly need security when the orderlies usually took situations into their own hands.

"The lady told you to come back during visiting hours, young miss." His gruff voice sent a horrible chill down Rachel's spine, as he placed a restraining hand upon her shoulder. "If you want to visit your friend, you will need to come back tomorrow."

"Don't, touch me!" The blonde twisted her shoulder out of the orderly's grip, her eyes remaining focused on the receptionist. How much trouble would she get herself into if she actually did smash the woman's face into the desk? "Tell me which room Dean Winchester is in, or I will be left with no choice but to call my superiors!" With that being said, Rachel dug her hand into her shoulder bag to pull out her fake F.B.I badge and held it up for both the receptionist and the orderly to see. Both of their faces quickly paled, their eyes widened and they both straightened their backs. "Don't make me ask again."

8888888888

Room number 4. Room number 4. Room number 4.

She mentally kept repeating the very words the receptionist had told her as her blue eyes scanned every door she passed. Rachel could still feel her anger in her gut, but it was slowly dying and being replaced with the very fear she had felt throughout her meeting with Castiel. The orderly had insisted, rather politely, at escorting her to the room, but Rachel wanted to be alone with her thoughts before she found her eldest brother. She needed to think about and prepare exactly what she was going to tell him. She couldn't exactly start with, 'Castiel pulled me up at a club.' Dean would want to be focussed on whatever this case was. She wanted him to be focused on whatever this case was, considering she wouldn't exactly be much help.

And then, there was the whole Faith matter. What had the Slayer been on about in her text? How had she messed up? A number of possibilities ran through her mind, and the young blonde Winchester tried her best to eliminate them so she had a better understanding of what her brother's emotions would be like.

Okay, so Faith had messed up somehow, which had led to Dean running off, which wasn't like him at all. Dean never ran from anyone, or anything. Not unless it was something extremely bad. He knew about Faith's past, about the stealing and her violent temper streaks, but he had still stuck around. Judging from the wording of her text, the Slayer had done something that had upset Dean big time and that would lead to Rachel most probably wanting her head. Rachel tolerated a lot of things. Being a hunter, it was kind of in the job description. The only thing that she would not ever tolerate, was someone coming between her family, her brothers. Whatever Faith had done, it had something to do with both of her brothers. Whatever it was, the overwhelming want to come down on the Slayer like a tonne of bricks filled her entire being.

The temptation to ignore the asylum's strict 'No Cell Phone' policy and give Faith a piece of her mind nibbled away at Rachel, just as she found the door she was looking for. Faith cold wait, but she had been right about one thing; Dean needed her. Taking a deep, calming breath, the blonde raised her fist and knocked gently on the door three times before she let herself in. Her blue eyes immediately fell upon her eldest brother. Rachel knew him well enough to see that he was upset. No matter how controlled Dean was over his facial expressions, his eyes told a lot more than he knew.

Stepping into the room, Rachel closed the door behind her. What did she say? Did she explain why she needed his help, still needed his help? Did she ask what the Hell had happened? No. Dean didn't need that. Her blue eyes shot towards the red-haired woman in the room for a brief second, before they returned to her brother. She wanted to give him a hug. He looked so lost and lonely and upset. But, she couldn't. Not yet. Instead, Rachel settled for crossing the room to sit next to him on the bed, leaving a small gap between them, just incase Dean wanted some personal space. Screw her own troubles and personal demons. Her brothers came first, no matter what.

"I don't know what she's done, and I don't want you to tell me if you don't want to." Rachel rested a hand upon her stomach, simply out of habit as she looked her brother in the eye. Even sitting down, he was still a good few inches taller than her. Damn it! "But, I will kick her to the curb for whatever she's done. Pregnant or not, nobody messes with my big brother and gets away with it."

Faith

Apparently this was the outskirts of town. The only thing that appeared to be around for miles was this establishment hidden snuggled in the woods. An old wooden sign barely attached to its base read Davis Memorial Mental Health Facility. There was something familiar about that name. She ducked back in the car to grab the newspaper that had been sitting on the front seat. This was the place in the article. She glanced up from the pages to the ominous building before her. There was a possible case here, but she wasn�t to fond of the idea of getting involved with it.  She hated hospitals she had enough of them including ones like this. She had been in them one time too many. The other option was hiking back to town taking the chance of running into the Winchester�s along the way. This possibility made the concept of going to the asylum more attractive. She�d rather face old demons than the ones she just left behind in Coldwater.

She tossed the pages back in the old car abandoning alongside the road. The sound of lose gravels crunched under her feet as she approached the chain link fence. There was nothing about this place that appeared friendly or inviting. It looked more like some place people locked away their dirty secrets.  She ducked behind a tree as she neared the entrance. There was a security guard dismissing a older woman that was attempting to see a family member. He claimed it was after visiting hours. This certainly complicated matters. It didn�t appear the I�m here to visit a sick family member excuse was going to work. She began to wonder around the perimeter looking for a solution. There were a couple of members of the staff standing by one of the exterior doors on a smoke break. Swiping a uniform and a key card would do the trick. She wrapped her fingers around the metal rings of the fence to scale it. Once she was on the other side she snuck up the employees. She knocked the first one out in one fluid motion. The blow would leave them with a headache when they woke up, but other than that they would be fine.  The second she put a sleeper hold on until he passed out. She then tugged off his jacket tossing it on. Then removed his keys and id card.

She thought she was home free. She�d get inside ditch the stolen card and make up some excuse. Probably say she was new and lost her card. The staff came around sooner than she had planned. They came barreling down the hallway tackling her with a syringe full of ativan. They assumed that she was a patient on the loose. She woke up a short time later tied to a bed with restraints on her arms. What the hell? It didn�t take her long with her slayer strength to rip the things loose providing her freedom. She stood up rubbing her wrist to examine the room she was in. There were two beds but the other one was empty. She was dressed in blue pajamas. This hadn�t worked out exactly as she intended but she was in. She may have fair access to information. She decided to check her door half expecting it to be locked to the contrary it opened right up allowing her to wonder out into the hall way. The smell of antiseptic filled her nostrils. A young woman clutching a teddy bear roamed the hallway. It didn�t appear that she was aware of anyone else�s presence. The white tile floors and walls bathed in fluorescent light was all too familiar.  It brought back a few bad memories making her ill at ease. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary as she wondered towards the day room to see a couple of patience sitting on a grey couch in front of the tv watching old programs. She cocked her head looking around expecting to see more staff in the building. There was one nurse on the floor trying to calm a patient that seemed wound by something. She sat down on the couch staring at the pair entranced by the plasma screen.

�I�m ah Faith,� she to roll with her real name. The attempt to get them to talk was in vain. The girl on the left glanced over but then fixated back on the high definition images. The second gentle man remained entranced. �And you are?� this didn�t look like it was going to be easy. No one was even acknowledging her. �Not suppose to talk to strangers,� the girl shot a passing glance to her.  �Well that�s true but I�m not a stranger I just introduced myself,� she tried to adjust to their logic. �She wouldn�t like me talking to you,� the girl didn�t bother to look at Faith this time. �She? She who?� Faith scrunched her eyebrow together.

�Ah there you are. I am glad to see you are up and around. You gave Dr. Edwards and Sullivan a run for their money earlier,� a man in a white coat entered the room his name tag read Dr. Vincent McGregor. Faith stared up at him. �Funny thing I can�t seem to find your chart Miss?� he taped his pen on a clip board he was holding. �Faith,� the man blurted out without looking away from the tube. Great now he talks? The lights overhead suddenly flickered. The girl on the far end of the couch pulled herself into a tight ball. The patient the nurse had been trying to console suddenly lost drawing the physician�s attention.

Sam Winchester

Dean had said something about strange occurrences at a mental institution near Coldwater, but it hadn�t congealed into a case yet, or not as far as Sam was concerned.  Could this be the institution Dean was talking about?  He and Dracora stood on the shoulder of the road, looking somewhat lost.  They could either check out the asylum or Dracora could do her dragon thing and the both of them could fly the Friendly Dragon Skies to�well, anywhere but here.   Although the apparently dearly departed Walt Ripley was convinced the two of them had business at the Davis Memorial Mental Health Facility.  The phantom Mr. Ripley had said, �this is what you came for, this is your destination�.  A gust of wind came out of nowhere and swirled dead leaves around Sam�s feet.  The wind ceased as suddenly as it had started, discarding the leaves in a pattern that almost, but not quite, looked like a face.

�Give me a minute,� Sam said to Dracora.  He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in Dean�s number.  What resulted was a message saying Dean�s phone was out of service.  So he tried Rachel�s number.  This time it didn�t ring.  No error message or anything.  The call just didn�t go through.  He slid the phone back into an interior pocket of his army surplus jacket and shrugged for Dracora while still eyeing the Davis Memorial Asylum.  He wondered briefly who Davis was and how he or she had died.

�Let�s check this out.  Maybe they�ve got a phone.  Dean had said something about a possible case involving a nut house.  Maybe this is the place.�  The clouds were coming in low and fast, brushing the roof of the asylum and obscuring the fourth floor windows in a white, filmy haze.  Sam thought he glimpsed someone in one of those windows � a woman with white flowing hair and a gown to match, but it disappeared almost immediately, as if it melted into water vapor and was swept away with the low-lying clouds.  A shiver ran the length of Sam�s spine and settled into the marrow of his bones like cancer.  He really didn�t like this place.

But they went to the gate and pushed a button that rang a bell inside the asylum�s security office.  A minute later a uniformed, burly man with Schwarzenegger biceps but an Andy of Mayberry grin walked down the concrete path from the building and asked them in a heavy Maine accent, �Good aftanoon to ya folks.  Looks like we got us some weathah blowin in from Canada.  What can I do fah ya?�  The man wore a pistol � looked like a 38 caliber � in a holster on his left hip and a billy club in a sleeve on his right hip.  Must be some particularly violent nut jobs inside this place.

Sam didn�t want to tell the security guard they were just abandoned by a Republican ghost named Ripley from the 1960s � he and Dracora might get locked up in this place themselves � so he fabricated a little lie.  �Our car broke down �bout half a mile back towards Coldwater.  We can�t seem to get any cell service here.  You wouldn�t happen to have a phone we could use, would you?�

The guard grinned even broader, like Aunt Bee had just baked his favorite rhubarb pie, then brought out a wad of keys and unlocked the gate.  �Of caahse you can use the phone.  Damned cell towahs aah always down in baahd weathah.�  He waved them inside, �Just go see Maahgrit at the front desk.  She�ll fix ya raght up, she will.�  So Sam and Dracora walked up the concrete path to the front doors of the Davis Memorial Mental Health Facility.  The clouds had dipped even lower and now the entire fourth floor had disappeared into the mists.   Sam glanced back toward the gate they had just entered through and took note of the fact that there was no sign of the security guard.  He had vanished as thoroughly as the asylum�s fourth floor.  They climbed the moss-covered steps to the big double doors that were the asylum�s main entrance.  Sam pushed them open and they entered into a high-ceilinged room with white linoleum floors and gray walls.  An oak wainscoting extended from the floor to a height of about four feet.  At the back of the room was a broad darkly-stained desk behind which sat a woman in a white nurse�s outfit, complete with one of those white nurse�s caps with a red cross on it.  A name plate to the right of the woman read Margaret Sidebottom.  She had a face like curdled milk in which swam two small, beady eyes, a nose like a pale brussel sprout, and a pair of garishly painted red-lips.  Miss Sidebottom elevated her intense gaze to Sam and Dracora, then frowned.  However, someone screamed in an upstairs room eliciting what passed for a smile in Margaret�s face, which was a truly horrific sight.

Lilith

Lilith hadn't heard from the two demons that she had assigned to harrass the Winchester brothers. At least she had heard nothing since the seduction of the boys had occurred. That displeased her greatly. So Lilith decided it was time to take over. Now that the boys had the demonic wedge driven between them Lilith wanted to finesse the details herself. She intended to torture both brothers, and she intended to stretch out said torture for as long as their pathetic human bodies could stand it. Then she would bring them back from the brink, and start over. Her vessel was covered in delicious chills. She summoned both demonesses before her. Rather than inquire as to their activities, Lilith simply plucked the information directly from their rabid little minds. She was in no mood to mince words with the little hussies.  "I will no longer require your services with the Winchesters." Lilith snapped her fingers and the two disappeared in a black puff of smoke that sank through beneath her feet. She was certain they would despise their reassignments. But they surely knew how lucky they were that Lilith allowed them to continue living.

The state of Maine in the United States was where the Winchesters had landed this time. In fact they were investigating a case in a small insane asylum. Lilith clapped and cackled in glee. It was just too delicious. The intel she had gleaned from her minions about their activities before Lilith took over was the only thing that had saved their pathetic little lives. Faith had caught Dean with another woman. And had then been caught by Dean in Sam's bed. Lilith had actually been disappointed to learn that the demoness had been required to assume Faith's form in order to seduce the older Winchester. Dean was not a big believer in monogamy, so the extent the demons had gone to was significant to Lilith. Dean had changed since they had last met. No matter. It was all just a brand new game, and Lilith played these games better than anyone.

A wave of her hand and Lilith stood in a shadowy corner of the main gathering room of the the small asylum. She wore a simple blue cotton gown. She appeared to be just another patient, another troubled soul in a sea of human misery. This was going to be almost too easy. She ambled aimlessly around the room taking in every detail of the environment around her. As she passed the open hallway door she glanced at to the front desk. It was all she could do to contain her delighted laughter. Sam Winchester stood before the homely receptionist. A petite pretty brunette stood at his side. Dean had to be nearby. The two brothers were never far from each other.

Lilith took note of everyone who wasn't a patient. The three at the front desk weren't, although Lilith knew Sam could made a viable candidate for residency here. As could Dean. There were two physicians in white lab coats who wandered among the patients watching and assessing them. There was someone else who intrigued Lilith. The beautiful red headed woman certainly wasn't a resident here. She was dressed in a conservative black skirt and suit coat, her only accessory a dark blue scarf knotted at her throat. The woman was watching in much the same way Lilith was. As if familiarizing herself with the place and the people. Who could she be? She could become an interesting game piece. Lilith spent several moments just watching the redhead. The woman seemed inordinately interested in the computer resting on the front desk. Lilith decided to throw her a bone and see what happened. Lilith's eyes turned milky white.

A patient walking behind the sofa fell and went into violent convulsions. Two attendants dropped next to him. Another patient sitting at a card table began screaming and pulling handfuls of her own hair out one bloody handful at a time. A third one started banging his head against the barred windows hard enough to open a bleeding cut with each metallic thump. The rest of the patients started laughing loudly and hysterically. Lilith melted into the background. The havoc drew every employee on duty. Even Sam and his friend turned to watch. The redhead wasted no time getting to the computer. She watched from the side of her vision as she quickly found whatever it was she was searching for. She drifted away to the back of the building. No one but Lilith had noticed the security breach.

The redhead slipped into room number four. Lilith approached the door and listened through it. This was turning into a very good day for her. It was Dean's voice that spoke to the woman. He called her Dianna. She must be a hunter! Lilith waited around the first corner for the woman to exit. A few minutes later Dianna Remington found herself bound and gagged and thrown carelessly into a cleaning closet. Lilith checked twice just to be sure she had the clothing exactly correct. A lock of dark red hair fell into her eyes and she whisked it behind her ear. Too bad the woman had the anti-possession tattoo. It would have been much more fun to ride a woman the Winchesters liked. But this would have to do. She entered the room to find Dean sitting on the narrow bed. Let the games begin.

Nov 1st 2012 - 3:56 PM

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ooc: Written by Dianna and Dean

The shift had changed, and Dianna cursed herself for not noticing  these two doctors' names on the computer listing. But she had been certain that Drs Casey and Devore had been the only two listed as practicing here. Now there were two new doctors on the floor. And of course the doctors might very well challange her authority with more confidence than the skinny receptionist had. She was gone, replaced by a bulbous nosed middle aged woman who wore too much lipstick and leered at the couple before her. She had to find a way to get bulbous nose away from the computer just long enough for Dianna to double check.

For half a second the scene before her wavered, the building's interior taking on an older cast. The computer disappeared and was replaced by an old manual typewriter. Dianna blinked and it settled back to where it had been.  She didn't know how she was going to do it, but she needed to get back on that computer. It wasn't looking too good. A tall man accompanied by a slender young brunette approached the front desk. She really needed Sami to come create a distraction for her, but her blonde sister had vanished. She would eventually touch bases with Dianna, but she probably decided she had done her job helping Dianna infiltrate. Sami was known for vanishing at the drop of a hat. Dianna feared that she had done so once more. Dianna never knew how long Sami would be gone when she disappeared, but she was used to picking up the slack for her sister. She would just have to make do.

She was considering and rejecting her options when luck suddenly reared her fickle head and graced Dianna with an opportunity she could never have predicted. The patients in the insane asylum started going...well...crazy. All of the staff on duty swooped in to deal with the crisis. Even the people in front of the desk were distracted. Dianna couldn't have planned anything better. She glided in next to the desk and reached for the mouse. This time she knew what she was looking for. She typed in the names of Drs Edwards, Sullivan, McGregor, Casey and Devore in that order. She was surprised when the employment records of all five opened up. She clicked print and tried to look nonchalant. Finally the printout was completed. She closed out the program and went to grab what she had just stolen.

Dianna snatched the papers from the printer tray and headed back to Dean's room to read them. She thought she saw a patient separate herself from the herd and she glanced back just before she entered his room. There was no one there, and she shook her head. She set her paranoia aside as soon as the door closed. Still no Sami, but Dean waited somewhat patiently. There was a sheet of paper for each doctor. Casey had been here the longest. He had been hired in 1978. He was in fact the senior physician on staff. She set his file aside. Next was Devore. He had been on the staff since 1992. She dropped it and picked up McGregor's file.

"Oh my fucking God! Look at this, Dean." He dropped the files for Sullivan and Edwards. McGregor had indeed been a physician on staff from 1957 until his death in 1964 at the hands of one of his patients, a man named Walter Ripley. Yet she was sure she had seen McGregor walking among the patients. "He's here Dean. I saw him. What the hell have we got here?"

"Probably an angry spirit. It says here he was murdered by a patient of his. Maybe he's looking for revenge."

"Does one angry spirit have the power to shift time?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"The front lobby..ummm...changed. It was only for a split second, but I swear everything was antiques. The computer changed into a typewriter and then back.  I KNOW I wasn't imagining things. Then the patients went nuts and I got this stuff."

"I've never heard of an angry spirit doing that. They don't always realize they're dead and they seem stuck in their own time sometimes, but I've never seen one control time. As far as I know only angels and demons can mess with time. But things change so fast in this business that I can't say it's impossible."

"We should dig up and burn his bones just to be on the safe side."

"We gotta find out where he's buried first."

"Well there's only one cemetery nearby. I'll check it out tonight after lights out."

"Find that patient's grave too. Might have to burn both sets of bones."

"All right. See what else you can find out here. I'll work as quickly as I can."

Dean nodded and Dianna left his room heading toward the exit and her vintage Mustang. She had just made it around the first corner when everything went black. She woke up trussed and gagged in a tiny closet filled cleaning supplies. She had no idea who or what had put her here. "SHIT!" she mentally cursed at herself. Her hands had been tied to one of the metal cabinets from behind her back and she could only move a few inches to each side. Finding a method of escape wasn't going to be easy or quick.

Dean was surprised when Dianna returned only minutes after she had left. "What could you possibly have forgotten?" He wanted to know. Dianna grinned at him and chills ran down his spine. He rose from the bed, but her eyes suddenly veiled white, and he found himself slammed and hanging against the wall.

Lucinda

Lucinda was proud of her accomplishments. It had been the performance of the century at the hotel or at least one of them. The other was the show she had been putting on at the asylum. For months she has been posing as a nurse named Lucy Mills preying on the patients disturbed by the spirits. This was until Crowley came and had instructed her to divide the family. They then would be led back here.

The presence of Rachel Winchester complicated her plans. The youngest had always been a peace keeper. She found a way to get her brothers to resolve their issues holding the family together. Given time the hunter would be able to unravel everything.  The red head could not let that happen.

Rachel was sitting on the bed next to Dean talking about the events back at the hotel. He didn�t even seem to be registering her presence. There was something off about the young man. He was slowly losing it. Almost as quickly as the blonde came into room 4 Lucinda was stepping in there to rush her out. �How did you get in here? Visiting hours are over,� she was curt. This fact meant nothing. The young woman was not moving. �It�s late. This patient needs his rest,� she led her out into the hallway. �There is a storm brewing. The roads get treacherous. You can stay the night,� the lights flickered over head.  �Ask the nurse at the front desk. I am sure she can accommodate you if you don�t mind staying on the third floor,� she tapped her pen against her clip board then pointed to the corridor ahead.

Brianna

The third floor had been empty for years. For decades the area was restricted. They worked in secrecy. Only people who worked for Doctor Sullivan had access. Upon his death the section of the hospital was completely closed off. No one would hear the young woman scream up there. She would dispose of the threat by the end of the night. The spirits would keep the others entertained.

The hospital was a dark place. Bad things happened here. It was these events that had taken her life. She was the one that wondered the hall ways after the lights went out. It was her who caused the lights to flicker and the staff to gossip about spirits. Briana wasn�t the only one to roam these grounds.  There were others, but she liked to make her presence known. This was her home.  Sometimes she still had a problem separating fantasy from reality. Even in death her mind played tricks on her. There were times she felt like a broken record reliving those last few moments of her life. The rest of the time she watched protectively over the patients making sure no one hurt them. She never realized that some of her behavior was harmful. It scared them.

There were new people here today. She always hated new people. Strangers brought dangers. There was a danger waiting here for them as well. She tried to warn them scare them away, but still they stayed. There were at least seven outsiders. Eight if you still counted Lucy. She didn�t like that woman. Most because she knew that nurse wasn�t human. It was a demon. She did bad things.

Bri saw Lucy escorting the blonde lady out of room four moments before another woman rushed in. She didn�t approve of the things the red head was telling Rachel. She had encouraged the visitor to stay on the third floor. She would not allow this. There were things there she did not want anyone to see. She wished she could forget them, wished that it was just one of her nightmares but it wasn�t. The lights began to flicker over head a couple of the bulbs burst causing shards of glass to rain down.

A thump from the other room drew her attention. She passed through the wall to see Dean pinned against the wall. �That isn�t very nice,�he began to chide her until she saw the whites of her eyes. This one scared her. She blinked out of the room.

Dr. Thomas Sullivan

To the casual observer, of which there were none these days at the asylum, the third floor of the Davis Memorial Mental Health Facility would appear to be abandoned, dusty, hollowed out even.  The white paint on the walls was peeling, the linoleum floors were dirty and cracked, and the useful equipment � hospital beds with leather restraining straps, straight jackets, electroshock apparatus, and other psychotherapeutical apparati had been moved to the other floors years ago.  The official story, concocted by Dr. Sullivan and his staff, was that the third floor had been cordoned off due to structural deficiencies and substandard construction in regard to electrical wiring and plumbing that made the entire floor unsafe.  The third floor had been built by a low-bid contractor who side-stepped the few building codes on the books in 1917. The power had been turned off to prevent shorts and the inevitable conflagration that results from shoddy electrical work. In 1997, the Maine Department of Health and Human Services had promised funding to completely renovate the third floor and correct the construction inadequacies, but the money had fallen victim to bureaucratic incompetence, and now, with the depressed economy, no one had any illusions that construction crews would be walking the dusty white linoleum of the third floor anytime soon.

Which was just as well from Dr. Thomas Sullivan�s perspective.  Because if one were standing in that third floor hallway and could think outside the current reality just a little, like turning the dial on a radio, one could tune in on a completely different world in which Doctor Sullivan was still working on his ground-breaking experiments in electroshock therapy and targeted lobotomy to cure mental illness and brain abnormalities.  The basic concepts emerged from highly innovative and creative German doctors during World War II, who were allowed to work unfettered by the usual moral conventions that so unfairly constrain medical research.  

Locks of long auburn hair lay on the floor of the hospital room. The girl, whose head had been shaved and was strapped to a cold metal table, had a rag stuffed in her mouth. Ear piercing screams were so distracting.  But she had to be awake and aware for the experiment to be valid. The top of her skull had been removed with a bone saw, exposing the convoluted structure of the brain, which was periodically sprayed with ringer�s solution to prevent dessication. Multiple electrodes were attached to the remaining portions of her skull, providing readouts of brain waves, which not surprisingly, indicated extreme agitation.  With a steady hand and a precision born of decades of similar procedures, Dr. Sullivan inserted the probe into the frontal lobe, just in back of the right eye.  An infinitesimally small electrical shock was applied, cauterizing a portion of the brain that governed a specific form of artistic creativity.  Dr. Sullivan turned his attention to the EEG to evaluate the patient�s response.   

Briella

Briella was sitting in the day room with a few of the asylum's other patients. In the past she used to spend most the day in this room with her sister Brianna, but then Brianna died. Briella didn't feel alone though. She could still talk to her sister. Unlike most, Briella had a gift. The gift to see and communicate with the dead. Though, her beloved sister wasn't the only spirit inside these walls. And not all of them were friendly.

Suddenly, Briella stood up and headed towards the wall. She sensed her sister's fret about a group of new people being encouraged to stay on the third floor. That was not a place to stay. Everyone that had any free will, knew to stay away form there. But know Briella was going to have to make her way up there. These people were going to need her help. But first she would have to convince them that she wasn't crazy. Well not completely anyway.

When the coast was clear, Briella pressed on the wall, which opened up a secret passage to the third floor. Thanks to the spirits, she knew things about the old hospital that others, not even the staff, knew. Like the secret passages. It only took her a few minutes to climb the stairs and come out in the hallway of the third floor. She saw the group just ahead of her and ran towards them. "You don't want to be here."

Nov 1st 2012 - 3:55 PM

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Sam Winchester

Multiple lightning strikes crashed in a tremendous crescendo outside the walls of the old hospital.  The lights inside faltered and then winked out completely.  A moment later the sound of big generators rumbling somewhere below them in the basement was accompanied by the lights coming back on, but the intensity was less, as if the generators weren�t quite up to the task.  Sam walked to the desk of Ms. �Mahgrit� Sidebottom, as the security guard had called her.  Dracora joined him there.  �Our car broke down a half mile down the road.  We need to use a phone, if that�s possible.�  Sam didn�t know if this was the hospital Dean had talked about or not.  But the place was already giving him the Willys.  He just wanted to get the hell out of here.  He�d call a cab and he and Dracora would go back to Coldwater.

Ms. Sidebottom�s left eyebrow, which looked a bit like an especially hirsute caterpillar, arched, her squinty, pig-like eyes narrowed, and she pursed her thin lips together.  Margaret responded in a gravelly baritone voice that sounded like meat and bones going through a meat grinder,  �Did you not hear the generators kick on?  The phones always go out before the power.�  She picked up the headset of an old dial phone � truly an antique - and handed it to Sam.  He held it to his ear.  Nothing but silence.  No dial tone.  Sam frowned, because this didn�t seem right.  Phone lines were separate from power lines, and their dependability should be unrelated to whether or not the power goes out.  Outside thunder rolled across the Maine landscape and torrents of rain began lashing against the windows.  Their options were limited.  If it wasn�t raining, Sam and Dracora could go back to the highway and thumb a ride.  But they didn�t have any rain gear, and they�d get soaked to the bone if they tried it now.  Sam took a deep breath and glanced at Dracora.  She was obviously expecting him to decide upon an appropriate course of action.  This was his world, not hers.  He turned back to �Mahgrit�.  �Ok, so can we just sit on those benches over there and wait out the storm?�  Wooden benches that looked a bit like old church pews lined the left wall.  Ms. Sidebottom frowned, and then her frown degraded into a scowl.  Sam was concerned that she might begin growling.  Now that would be scary.  The timber of her voice went even deeper, and more bones than meat went through the meat grinder when she said, �Those seats are reserved for patients waiting for appointments, and family members waiting to see patients.  You cannot sit there.�  Sam frowned as he looked to the church pew seats.  No one was seated there and it seemed highly unlikely that a crush of patients or family members was going to come through the storm any time soon to fill them.   Then Ms. Sidebottom added, �But you can stay in one of the empty rooms on the third floor.�  She consulted a chart of that floor and announced, �You may stay in room 313.  It has a bed and a bathroom.   No TV, this isn�t the Holiday Inn, but you can stay there until the phones work again.�  She went back to her crossword puzzle.  When Sam and Dracora didn�t move towards the stairs immediately, she looked back up at them impatiently, �The stairs are on your left, side door.  I wouldn�t trust the elevators.  The generators are undependable.  Now go, I have work to do!�

So Sammy and Dracora crossed the lobby and took the stairs, which were narrow and illuminated by a flickering, bare bulb that hung from a weathered frayed, wire.  On the second floor landing, a girl with matted hair, dirty bare feet, and wearing a hospital gown, was curled into a corner, sitting on the floor, her arms tightly wrapped around her knees.  She looked up with alarm when Sam and Dracora approached.  She was babbling nonsense, �Need to feed the wildebeest and take out the chairs.  Daddy will be angry, so angry.  Mustn�t let Daddy see whats hidden.  No, no, no.  The darkness will take you.�  She looked up and into Sam�s eyes, speaking now with conviction, �Daddy will be upset.  You mustn�t!  No!  Nooooo!  You mustn�t go there!! �  She glanced up the stairs towards the third floor.  Sam tried to reassure her, �Its alright, we�ll be alright.�  A tear slid down the girl�s cheek as she repeated, over and over again, �You mustn�t, you mustn�t, you mustn�t�.  Sam didn�t know what to do, so he and Dracora continued up the stairs.  As they reached the third floor landing the power went out again and the generators fell silent.  He opened the door to the third floor.  It was very dark and so difficult to see, but the floor seemed to have not been in use for a very long time.  Lightning flashed strobe-like outside, momentarily lighting up the hallway.  The place felt empty� but not entirely abandoned.  A shiver ran along Sam�s spine.   

Rachel Winchester

The trouble with most mental institutes was that they had a lot of stairs and no elevators. The institutes had been built without pregnant women in mind. Okay, there were only two flights of stairs to get to the third floor of the building, but for a heavily pregnant Rachel, it was still two flights of stairs too many. Her swollen ankles ached, her legs felt as if they were about to turn into jelly and her back was not far off from caving in on itself. All of those women who had glowed and been pampered throughout their pregnancies, who had stopped her in the street and told her that motherhood would be the best time of her life could go and screw themselves, as far as Rachel was concerned. Her pregnancy had brought her nothing but hassle. First, there had been the morning sickness, which had not just been limited to the mornings. Then, there had been the aches and pains as her internal organs had shifted themselves to make way for the growing baby in her stomach, the late nights where her baby had been playing football with her bladder, the fact that she had not been able to fit into any of her clothes, the horrible stretchmarks that covered her stomach and her thighs and the fact that her brothers teased her constantly as she waddled in and out of the room! Rachel could not wait for her pregnancy to be over. Sure, she was terrified about giving birth, but that would be a walk in the park after everything she had been through in the last eight-months.

The woman behind the desk at the main reception had not given her a key to a room, instead she claimed that all the rooms on the third floor would be available to her. She had stated that there was a small bathroom joined in each room and that she was more than welcome to eat breakfast in the staff canteen in the morning. The blonde Winchester, however, had not planned to stay on the third floor until the following morning. No, she was planning on just catching a couple of hours sleep before she headed back down to Dean's room. There had been something odd about the red-haired nurse, the look in her eldest brother's eyes. There was definately something going on in the mental institute, but Rachel had no idea what it was; yet. She had noticed the way the lights in the corridors flickered, the bulbs breaking violently and without warning or cause. She had heard the mumbling of the frightened patients, seen the way they huddled together as if for some kind of protection. Rachel let out a long sigh of relief as she reached the third floor, knowing that there were no more steps to struggle to climb. Her relief was slightly short-lived. The long corridor that stretched out before her was dark and dreary, and looked as if nobody had cleaned it in many years. There was a little light shining through the dirty windows that let in quite a bit of draft. Rachel felt the goosebumps prick across her arms and saw her breath form into small clouds of thin fog.

Now, she wished that she had brought a jacket or a cardigan along with her.

"I've slept in worse places." The blonde muttered to herself as she slowly made her way further down the corridor, peering into every room she passed. Most of the rooms had bed frames in them, along with old machines that looked a lot like they were used for torture, not medical equiptment. "Its just for a couple of hours." She continued to mutter to herself, almost as if convincing herself not to run back down the two flights of stairs. "Just until that nurse goes home." One room interested the youngest Winchester sibling as soon as she poked her head through the door. There was no bed, no furniture or old machines. It looked a lot like an old abandoned office. Biting her bottom lip, Rachel pulled her cell-phone from her shoulder purse and flicked the screen up. The bright light from the screen filled the dark room, abling her to see a little better as she walked further into the room. There were old, dusty medical books on the shelves, rat-chewed boxes in the corner of the room, a dust-covered desk in the center of the room with a few old ornaments on top of it. A certificate on the wall grabbed Rachel's attention; Dr. Thomas Sullivan. This room must have been his office. Her bright blue eyes scanned the room once more, landing upon the top drawer of the desk. Everyone knows that a doctor's dirty little secrets were kept locked away in their desks, the top drawer of their desks, to be precise.

It was locked, obviously. Rachel pursed her lips for a long moment as she stared at the lock on the drawer. It was nothing she couldn't open with a couple of hair pins. With a smirk evident upon her lips, she pulled two hair pins from her long blonde locks and knelt down behind the desk, placing her cell-phone between her teeth so she could keep the light on what she was doing. She hoped that there was something in the drawer, something useful. Something that could possibly help tell her what was going on in the institute. The drawer didn't take too long to open, three-minutes tops. With a small groan, Rachel pushed herself to her feet and peered inside the drawer. There was a book, placed on top of a rather large pile of paperwork. Dr. Sullivan's medical journal, perhaps? "Hmmm." The blonde frowned slightly as she pulled the book out of the drawer. Did the whole privacy thing count if a person had passed on? In her mind, the mind of a hunter, nothing was private, especially if it was possible that her eldest brother's life was in some kind of danger. Quickly, the blonde pulled back the chair that had been positioned behind the desk and fell back into it. It felt so good to finally be off her feet. Pulling her cell-phone from her mouth, she aimed the screen to shine down on the pages as she read.

The doctors were distracted by a distraught patient. The flickering light upset others in the day room. They had their hands full. A familiar voice caught Faith�s attention. It sounded just like Sam Winchester, but what would he being doing here? She turned around looking over the top of the couch to see a tall man and a dark haired girl walking down one of the hallways. Dracora? She must really be losing it.  She rose to her feet slipping out of the room in pursuit of the familiar figures. Something caused her to hesitate as she began to pass room four. She paused rocking back on her feet and turning towards the door.  She begun to reach for the handle when she realized this pursuit would cause her to lose the couple. It was probably this place. It was giving her the heebie jeebies. There was nothing behind the door. It was probably just another empty patient room. Most of them were wandering around the day room right about now.

She withdrew her hand. The couple was heading for the stair well.  She tried to catch up but had lost sight of them. Luckily she heard the doorway to the third floor snapping close. She knew where they went.  The steps were dirty and the passageway reeked. It appeared no one ever tended it. She bolted up the stairs to a forgotten part of the hospital.  The lights went out again. This time was longer. She couldn�t see a hand in front of her face. The worst part was she didn�t even have her lighter to guide her way. The backup generator sputtered struggling. Finally it managed to provide enough energy to cast a dim light. A brunette girl came running towards her warning that she didn�t want to be here. Whatever gave her that impression? Was it the blood stained floors? Or the rusty gurneys with electro shock machines nestled nearby? �Relax kid?� she grabbed her by the arm to settle her and keep her from bolting off.  She glanced over the girl�s shoulder for the pair she had been tailing but they were out of sight.

Faith

The slayer�s eyes fixed back on the girl with the long dark hair and dressed in a white hospital gown. She was a patient.  It was questionable how she got up here. The staff obviously didn�t keep a close on their charges.  �What�s your name?� she studied Briella. This chick might  be able to give her some insight on things around here. It wasn�t like the staff was talking.  Besides she didn�t seem nuttier than squirrel shit. Everything out of the girl�s mouth couldn�t be completely crackers. �What are you talking about?� she lightened up on her grip.

There was someone in the doctor�s office reading his files. He most certainly wouldn�t take kindly to this. Those were his private things. One mustn�t ever touch them.  He would be very cross. He take you to his special room for what he called treatment. It was a pregnant woman. This only furthered her concerns. She didn�t want anything to happen to the mother and child. The air in the room began to cool as Bri slowly began to material. She slung a folder off the cabinet into the floor and knocked a picture frame off the desk while she attempted to take form. The white rabbit told her she needed to scare the woman away before the good doctor found her.  He would try to make her well with the nasty volts to her temples. Those hurt so very bad.

Finally she appeared next to the woman, �get out!�  The light bulb overhead shattered and things began to fall off of the shelf.  �He will find you then off with your head. Then they will find you because you will soon be dead,� she taunted in a sing song voice.  She then went silent listening for something. �He�s coming! You must hide! Quick, quick he mustn�t find you!� she began to shimmer throughout the room frantically as if she was looking for a place to hide herself then she dissipated. 

Dr. Thomas Sullivan

Being dead has its contrasting advantageous and disadvantageous, the ying and yang of being a spook.  On the one hand, you have the potential to exist forever, with no deterioration of the mind.  For a scientist, that is a huge plus.  Scientific revelations are an outgrowth of previous work, but unless one lives, or exists, long enough, it is difficult to wrap your mind around the process by which that outgrowth occurs, or to see the products which result.  Living scientists age and their minds degrade before they are truly able to see or comprehend the context of their work, or the true meaning of their accomplishments.  No so for Dr. Thomas Sullivan, who decades ago visualized a revolution in human society based on his ground-breaking work into the mechanics and function of the human brain.

The downside of being dead is that the work of deceased scientists is not easily published.  Dr. Sullivan finds himself isolated from the scientific community, and the stimulating, productive debate and discourse that are wellsprings of ideas for his living colleagues.  Furthermore, dead men do not give rousing powerpoint presentations at symposia and conferences.  Science that is unknown to other scientists neither generates new hypotheses nor stimulates others to pursue insightful parallel threads of scientific thought.  And regrettably, dead men do not teach courses or inspire promising students to auger into related aspects of their research that may reveal yet unimaginable possibilities.  Despite the obstacles, Dr. Sullivan always strives to focus on his assets and to maintain a bright and cheery state of mind.   

So, forever the optimist, Dr. Sullivan carefully withdrew the cauterizing probe from the young woman�s temporal lobe and reinserted it into a more central portion of the brain.  He then retuned the probe, reducing the electrical charge so that it would stimulate, rather than destroy neural function.  That humans only use 10 percent of their brain is a myth, but what is not a myth is that nearly everyone underutilizes their brain capacity.  If the brain was operating at full capability during the waking hours, comprehension, problem solving, processing of sensory input, control of bodily functions, and many other brain tasks would all be greatly enhanced.  But more than that, other abilities, such as total recall, savant-like mathematical skills, not to mention science fiction-like functions such as telekinesis, telepathy, and clairvoyance could all be realized.  Further, the brain could focus healing and regenerative energy to injured or diseased organs.  The body would be much less susceptible to aging or debilitating disease.  Dr. Sullivan visualized a society in which the brain operated at these higher levels, creating a paradise of structured scientific pursuit; all, of course, in an ordered, hierarchal manner.  Dr. Sullivan had great appreciation for the immensely efficient societal organization of colonial insects � bees, ants, termites.  Each animal is a valued member of a collective that contributes to the survival and growth of the hive, which functions essentially as an organism.  The individual animals become to the hive as cells to the body.  And with enhanced brain function, targeted to the particular task assigned to each animal unit, accompanied by selective cauterization of brain cells not associated with an individual�s societal function, the perfect, efficient society could be created.  This vision of the future is what motivated Thomas Sullivan to continue his work long after his human body was put to rest six feet under the ground.

Nurse Caleital brought to Dr. Sullivan�s attention that they had guests on the third floor.  A smile slithered across the dead doctor�s gray, thin lips, because �guests� became experimental subjects.  And additional experiments brought him that much closer to realizing his dreams.  Leaving his current experimental subject to the attending operating nurses for the moment, he sauntered down the hall to where a blonde pregnant girl was rifling through his files and personal notes.  The grin spread even further across Dr. Sullivan�s face, exposing rotted teeth inside a blackened maw of a mouth.  Of course, the girl could not see this expression of mirth, because Dr. Sullivan was invisible to her.  So he stepped to her side and stroked a hand gently once across her forehead.  The girl fell forward onto the desk, unconscious.  The good doctor instructed the nurse, �Take the girl to operating room 2B and prep her for neurosurgery.�

OOC: Brianna and Lucinda

Briana was horrified to see what the doctor was doing. He couldn�t be allowed to do this. He was going to perform surgery or some mad experiment on her. He would snuff out her light. Despite her fears she appeared before him shaking her head. She clamped her hands over her ears not to hear anything he might say. Fear stopped her from speaking up. The moment his eyes were on her she lost all resemblance of courage. There was nothing she could do, but there was something someone else could do. She would approach the couple that had been making their way up the hall way. She flickered out of sight reappearing in front of the man and woman she had been watching come up from the third floor.

�They�ll hurt her, the blonde woman with the baby. You must stop them. They will cut off her head,� it was hard for her to speak clearly when the voices were in her head screaming. They told her not to do this. He would be mad. He would hurt her; put her back on the table. All these appearances were beginning to make her weak.  Tossing things around in the office and blowing the lights had pushed her over the edge.  She began to fade before she got a chance to finish her warning.

Down stairs Lucinda was staring at her watch. The plan was in place. A few of the Winchesters were heading up stairs. The spirits in the hospital would handle the matter or at least keep them busy. She headed back towards Dean Winchester�s room. She pushed the door open to see Lilth there with the man pinned up against the wall. She lowered her head bowing in respect, �it�s done. I sent them to the third floor with Doctor Sullivan.�           

Briella didn't like that the woman with brown hair had grabbed her like that. It reminded her of how some of the nurses would man handle her and the other patients. Sometimes they would leave bruises on her flesh. When Faith finally eased up on her grip, Briella stepped back a little. "My name really isn't that important, but I'll tell you anyway. It's Briella. And I'm a patient here. So is my sister. But she's dead now." Dead but that didn't mean Brianna wasn't still stuck here like everyone else.

"There is a doctor here.  His name is Thomas Sullivan. If he gets ahold of you, he'll do horrible things. Things that will make you hope you die in the middle of them. Because to live would be worse." She didn't know everything that the doctor was up to, but she knew enough to never be on the same floor as him. Being this close terrified her. She didn't want to die, like the others. But she wanted to help people. And her sister. 

Nov 1st 2012 - 3:54 PM

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Sam Winchester

The third floor didn�t look like the sort of place Sam wanted to stay.  The halls were dark and dreary, and it felt seriously like there be dead people here.   The dragon scale under the skin of his hand was pulsing a little, which was a minor irritation but might be warning signal.  He glanced sidelong at Dracora.  The same concern was reflected in her eyes, but what choices did they have?  They could go downstairs and argue with Nurse Sidebottom again, they could go sit outside in the rain, or maybe they could wander around the second floor, but they might get booted out of there. Besides there were crazy people on the second floor.  Better ghosts than crazy people.  Most ghosts were harmless and never bothered the living. At least the third floor was quiet, even if it was haunted.

Or it was quiet until Sam heard creaking, squeaky noises from the far end of the hall.  It was a metal on metal sound, like a chrome or steel implement being dragged across a metal cabinet.  Or a metal door being dragged open on rusty wheels.  Sam and Dracora began down the hallway to investigate, but they didn�t get three steps before lightning slashed through the night outside again.  Within the glare of white-hot light that lasted but a moment, a girl materialized directly in front of Sam and Dracora.  She wore a knee-length cotton dress, a style that Sam had seen in old photographs.  Her hair was dark and lustrous, and as if she was caught in a phantom breeze, locks of it whispered and fluttered around her shoulders.  This specter wasn�t quite solid, but was far from transparent, and she fairly floated just above the old linoleum floor.  Then she spoke a warning.  About a pregnant blonde girl.  They, whomever they were, would cut off her head.  It sounded like Rachel, but Sam had no knowledge of either of his siblings being in the old asylum.  �What blonde girl?  Where is she?�  But the restless spirit vanished before answering his questions.

Sam and Dracora had a mission now, to help this blonde girl, if she existed that is, or wasn�t a ghost herself, which given the source of the information seemed like a pretty good possibility.  They made their way down the hall, checking in each room as they went.  Not surprisingly, in the first few rooms they found no one, ghostly or real, and in two of the rooms the windows were broken out and the storm had knifed its way inside with a vengeance, flooding the floors and billowing the dirty curtains inside like a witch�s skirt.  However, towards the end of the hall, some of the rooms appeared to have been more recently used, with clean floors and gleaming trays of surgical implements positioned adjacent to stainless steel examination tables.  But no one was in evidence.  It was in the last room on the left that they found her.  Rachel was strapped to one of those metal examination tables.  She�d been clothed in a hospital gown and her eyes were closed.  �Rachel!!�  Sam hurried to her side and began to unbuckle the leather restraints.  But that was when he felt something cold and clammy run across his forehead.  The room began to spin, his knees buckled, and he fell into unconsciousness.  

OOC: Written by Dianna and Dean

Dianna felt like a damned fool for getting ambushed like this. Her wrists were tied to the second shelf from the top stretching her arms over her head and almost pulling her shoulders from their sockets. An old rag that tasted like Lemon Pledge was stuffed in her mouth and held in place with a long piece of duct tape. Her feet were still free. 'Thank god for small favors.' she thought as she struggled to her feet. The shelf that her hands were tied to held an assortment of rags along with rolls of toilet paper. Nothing useful there. Her gun bumped against the small of her back momentarily surprising her. Her captor had been sloppy by not checking for weapons. Too bad the gun was the only weapon she carried. She really regretted leaving her dagger behind.

If she struggled too hard the shelf rattled loudly, and she didn't think she wanted anyone to discover her here. There was just no way to explain it. The rope was tied off with the knot on this side of the shelf leg. Dianna sighed. There was only one way, and it was going to be a bit time consuming. She started by rubbing her face against the edge of the shelf until the edge of the duct tape came loose. When the tape caught on the shelf she gave a quick yank of her head pulling the tape off in one clean swipe. It stung like hell and her eyes watered for a brief moment. She spit out the nasty tasting rag. Now for the real work. Dianna sighed and started working the top loop loose with her teeth. It was slow going, and she had to stop frequently to swallow her spit and listen for anyone approaching the tiny closet. It was a tedious process, but 45 minutes later she shook the last of the rope from her wrists.

She opened the closet door only enough to get a quick glance out. She saw a tall man and a petite brunette climbing the staircase. She waited till they were out of sight then she slipped from the closet and headed back to Dean's room. The handsome hunter didn't answer when she called softly to him as she opened his door. His body was spread eagled and hanging from the far wall. Her jaw dropped when she saw herself standing before him with an outstretched hand. The woman turned to stare at her. Her eyes were covered in a milky white veil. Dean slammed to the floor with a heavy thud. The redhead shimmered becoming a blonde whom Dianna had never before seen.

"What the hell?????"

"Run, Dianna!" Dean grunted from the floor as he recovered his ability to breathe.

Dianna almost complied, but she had never left a hunter behind, and she wasn't about to start now. Instead she knelt down and grabbed Dean's arm pulling him to his feet. The blond white-eyed demoness stood before them and laughed in malicious delight. Dianna lunged around her with Dean closely on her heels. They bolted from the room and found themselves standing at the foot of the flight of stairs with nowhere else to go but up.

"I get the feeling we're being herded." Dean groaned ominously when the demoness didn't stop them or follow them. "I definitely do not like it."

"Me neither." Dianna had pulled her Colt 45 and kept it at the ready. They ascended with Dean watching up and Dianna looking down. They passed the second floor. It was quiet and deserted. Cobwebs reigned superior and broken windows blew in other bits of dirt and debris. They continued upwards. When they reached the third floor the atmosphere changed.

As if caught in the weirdest of sci-fi stories or the Twilight Zone the environment around the two hunters had suddenly altered appearing to be frozen in a different earlier time. Old fashioned furnishings and equipment surrounded them, but it all appeared pristine, even new. The noise was what chilled them though. Groans from unseen patients/victims emanated throughout the floor. They glanced down the hallway just in time to see a tall young man with a petite brunette disappear into the first room on the right.

"Sammy! Dracora!" Dean shouted.

"Who?" Dianna inquired.

"That's my brother. Dracora is a good friend of his. She's hard to explain, but she's a hell of a lot more than meets the eye." Theyfollowed them into the room just intime to see Sam drop to the floor. A young blond woman was strapped to a table. "Rachel!" shouted Dean in a near panic. He lunged toward the table. A man dressed in a sixties lab coat approached Dean with a hypo in his hand. The tall man lay stretched out on the floor next to the examination table. Dianna reacted instictively by firing the Colt at the strange man with the hypo. He vanished in a poof and she thanked herself for loading the weapon with silver bullets. But she knew he would return, and soon.

The petite brunette held a weapon that looked like a reptile's claw. It was bright red and seemed to glow with actual fire. Then Dianna looked closer, and her jaw dropped open. The brunette wasn't holding the weapon. The weapon was an appendage that had replaced the woman's right hand. Dean saw her and seemed unfazed by the sight. He unstrapped the blond on the table while calling to his brother who was not responding. The taloned brunette knelt over Sam protectively. Dianna circled steadily waiting for the lab coated ghost to reappear.

Dr. Thomas Sullivan

This would not do.  It would not do at all.  But as any good doctor knows, there is always a remedy.  Sometimes it�s a simple and well-known cure, other times it requires years of careful research and experimentation.  But every disease, every ailment, every situation has a remedy.  And in this case the remedy was simple and straight forward.  Or so Doctor Sullivan thought.

Invisible now to these intruders that would, in time, become experimental subjects, Doctor Sullivan stepped forward to stroke the forehead of the shifter, the woman with the talon-like hand.  For she was the most dangerous one here.  �Stroke� was a good term for what Thomas planned to do, because his touch induced a minor stroke in the brain that targeted conscious awareness.  The effects were temporary, but were also instantaneous and the induced stroke was better than 10 cc of Ketamine at keeping a patient out.  The unseen Doctor Sullivan stepped towards claw woman and reached out his hand to lightly brush her forehead.  But he yelped in pain and realized at the same time that his hand was becoming visible as it came within reach of the woman.  He stepped back, cradling his hand, which was red and symptomatic of first degree burns.  Thomas had never experienced such a thing before.  He was dead, he could not be injured or harmed.  Yet the intense pain in his hand said otherwise.

Despite the burning pain, or perhaps driven by it, his mind was already churning through algorithms of possibilities, rejecting some explanations while building a list of credible interpretations consistent with the evidence, which his analytical mind would eventually weave into one or more testable hypotheses.  So claw woman had some sort of power over the dead.  Intriguing.  Did that power extend to her friends, as well?  Thomas reached out, cautiously this time, towards the redhead, intent on stroking her forehead.  When his fingers came within 15 inches of her cranium, he felt a distinct warmth.  At 12 inches, it was hot, and at 9, his fingers were burning and those fingers were becoming visible to the intruders.  He pulled his hand back again.  He would not be able to put these people under his control in the usual way, so he searched for other remedies to this situation.  Other cures, of which he knew there were several.  His mind flipped through the possibilities like scrolling through an old style card Rolodex, searching for a particular name and phone number.  And the fingers of his mind came to rest on a very interesting scenario indeed.  It was one he had not employed for more than two decades.  He grinned, which was not a pleasant sight.  But the good Doctor wasn�t concerned with pleasantries.  He was a man of science and accomplishment, and Thomas had neither the time nor the patience for interruptions.  So he murmured a brief incantation.  Although he was a man of science, he was brilliant enough to realize that science and the occult were complimentary.  The occult, what the living thought of as supernatural, was just a poorly explored aspect of science, an aspect that was governed by different rules of physics and alternate theorems.  Doctor Sullivan was beginning to understand this flip side to traditional science, and had mastered a few of its tricks.

Time is like a book, with each page akin to a day or an hour in the time continuum.  Traditional science knows only of one progression � to methodically plod through time page by page until the book is at its end.  But Doctor Sullivan knew how to flip back and forth through the pages, revisiting past events or jumping ahead to see how everything comes together.  His incantation flipped backwards to October 1964, when the hospital was a thriving, state of the art facility and Doctor Sullivan was still very much alive.  Unfortunately for the intruders, they would find themselves unable to communicate or affect the world into which they were thrust.  For they would be as specters, like ghosts in the world of 1964.  Doctor Sullivan turned on his heels and headed down the now gleaming white hallway alive with the hustle and bustle of nurses and physicians.  He smiled, which showed off his perfect white teeth, not the black, rotted maw of a dead man.  For Doctor Sullivan was alive here while the intruders were mere phantoms. The tables had turned. Yes indeed. 

Nov 1st 2012 - 3:53 PM

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Faith

Faith had heard the gun shot. The sound rang in her ears.  �Stay here,� she instructed the girl before bolting down the hallway to find the source. There was a frantic feeling taking her over. It could be too. She arrived in the door way to see some of her friends strapped down to a table like patients.  Until now she wasn�t even sure they were here. �Dean!� surprised to see him. He was the only one she knew still on his feet. There was a red head with him, big surprise. This wasn�t the one from the hotel room. This was another one altogether. This wasn�t the time to dwell on such matters. She glanced around the room trying to figure out what was going on. It looked like an old ran down torture chamber to her with the guise of a medical office. 

It was then the room began to shift. It felt like being in a television that needed the vertical hold to be adjusted. The room was rippling and rolling. When it returned to normal it had taken on a new shape and appearance. Everything in the room was cleaned up and in excellent condition. The lights were on bright over head. The hallway behind her was bustling. Staff and patients were wandering down the brightly painted hallways. They chattered walking by as if Faith and the others weren�t even there. A woman walked in the room grabbing some gauzing and alcohol without even speaking to them and then headed back out. Faith stepped out the door way. The young brunette had vanished. She was no longer standing there waiting for her return.

A woman approached her from behind stepping right through her. The sensation was shocking. Faith gasped as she watched this woman emerge on the other side of her.  They were ghosts.  She glanced back in the room to see if Dean had seen what had just happened. The slayer�s face was white as snow.

OOC: Written by Dracora, Dean and Dianna.

The sound that rumbled from Dracora's angry throat didn't even remotely resemble any noise that a human woman was capable of making. The draconic growl should have terrified every living being around them who didn't already understand her nature. She had seen demons and had killed many monsters with the Winchester brothers, but this ghostly being made her very scales quiver. She stood over her bond companion, talon at the ready.

Then the scenery started to melt and blur. She felt blinded in the soupy grey mist. When the environment around her finally resolved itself the dust, dirt and other detritus was gone. The equipment gleamed beneath glowing flourescent lighting. The malevolent spirit had achieved physical solidy. She didn't touch him but it was obvious he was alive. She glanced down just as her talon reverted to it's human form rendering her harmless. She reached down to grasp the arm of her bond companion but her hand came away empty as it passed cleanly through Sam's arm. "Sam!" she shouted into his mind. She felt a mental pulse from him. Vritra's bond companion and Dracora's friend was also here. "Your brother is here!" she tried again.

Dean shook his head in disbelief. His hand had been gripping his sister's arm. It suddenly lost it's cohesion. He glanced up in time to see his beloved barrel through the entryway. Faith locked eyes with him. He could see that she was still upset. Well, so was he. But this wasn't the time to belabor that sticky point. He had arranged his own death more than once, and others had managed to snuff him as well. Dean knew what it was to inhabit the spiritual realm. He had always made being insubstantial a bit of a game. A few years ago a newly dead ten year old had taught the Winchesters a few tricks about how to continue to influence the physical world.

Dean closed his eyes and concentrated, then put his fingers to his lips and blew a piercing whistle. His ghost companions all whirled to stare at him. "Ok, people, we have to figure out what the hell just happened." The redheaded hunter looked very spooked. Dracora looked confused, and Faith seemed to be in shock. "Sammy and I know a few tricks about being dead. We can get this figured out."

"Did you just say dead?!" Dianna blurted. She was trying to understand how her gun remained nestled in her grip when everything else was ethereal to her touch. She was glad even though she doubted it would be effective. Still she felt safer with the familiar weapon held tightly in her grip.

"Don't worry, Dianna. We'll find a way back to our bodies." Dean tried to reassure the redheaded huntress.

"Jesus, I hope so." She responded.

Dracora seemed to be gathering her wits about her more quickly that the humans. "Dean!" she called out. "Death will force me into my natural form. I cannot control the transformation. I'm sorry." Her figure wavered, and the hunters watched in fascination as she struggled to define the final transformation. When her visage settled back into place the small forest dragon had replaced the human woman. She could no longer verbally communicate with the humans, though she could still understand their words. She was now limited to her telepathic connection to Sam who had not yet completely revived.

Dianna's jaw dropped and Dean raced over to her. "It's ok." he reassured. "She's a dragon, but she's not a monster. Sammy can still communicate with her." He looked at Dracora. "I wonder if you can learn to access your talents as a spirit."

Dracora's shoulders rolled in what must have been a draconic shrug. She tilted her aside to tell him that she was considering the idea. Dean nodded. "We can be thankful that she's on our side. As soon as Sammy comes to we'll try to show everyone what we know. Everyone stay calm though. This can't be as bad as it looks." Dean hoped he hadn't just lied to his companions.

Rachel Winchester

What the Hell had happened? One minute, Rachel had been sat in doctor. Sullivan�s office reading through his old medical journal, and the next, she was being pulled off an old operating table by her eldest brother. The freezing tingle that she had felt only seconds before she had passed out had to be something to do with it. Her bright blue eyes darted around her surroundings, a hand resting on her protruding stomach. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she felt her unborn child kick her hand, only for that sigh to be quickly followed by a quick moan of pain as her baby kicked her bladder. Were they really dead? No, they couldn�t be. Her baby wouldn�t be kicking if they were. Well, now she could no longer officially say that she was the only Winchester who hadn�t died. But honestly, Rachel was not particularly enjoying the whole death experience. The blonde was used to her two older brothers ignoring her to the point that she almost felt invisible. But the whole ghostly sensation was a little beyond a joke. She now was invisible to everyone other then the group that she had travelled with. Nurses and patients were walking through them without giving them a moment�s thought. The feeling was just, un-nerving.

And, where was Cas when she really needed him? Since their meeting in the club, Rachel thought that she would not feel the need to want to see him again for a couple of days. Was she ever wrong. Now, she would give anything to see the Angel. He would know of a way to bring them all back into their bodies. Granted, there was every possibility that Castiel would see his aid as a sign of Rachel beginning to trust him once more, but screw it. She would buy him coffee if he got all of them back to their bodies.

�Well, the good doctor must have brought us here to prevent us from getting too close to something, right?� The blonde Winchester sibling spoke, her blue eyes switching from Sam to Dean and then back again. �We�ve just gotta figure out what he doesn�t want us to know. There was obviously something in his medical journal in his office that he didn�t feel too comfortable with me knowing. I could head over to his office now and check if its still there?� Rachel suggested, her hand remaining firmly on her stomach. Her eyes landed on Dean, who had obviously taken charge of their small group. �I�ll be alright on my own. Heck, I�m already dead. What else can happen to me?� The blonde Winchester frowned for a few seconds as her words crossed her mind. There were a lot of things that could happen to the deceased. �Actually, don�t answer that.�

Sam Winchester

Dracora was talking to him inside his head.  Something about danger and ghosts.  Sam�s eyes fluttered open and he found himself strapped to a hospital gurney with his friends and family around him in various stages of apprehension.  Sam looked down at the leather straps around his arms and legs.  �Hey, do you guys think you could unstrap me?�  But when he moved, his arms and legs just dissolved through the bindings like they weren�t real.  Or more disturbingly, like he wasn�t real.  Sam swung his legs towards the floor and sat up.  A frown creased his brow when he began to pick up on the conversation.  They were dead?  Sam brought his hand to within a foot of his face, and clenched and unclenched his fist.  It looked real enough, and he didn�t feel dead.  Sam had some experience with being dead, so he doubted the assessment of his companions.  But something was definitely amiss.  When he reached for the headset of an old fashioned phone on a table next to the gurney, his hand just passed right through it.  But he was sitting on the gurney without falling through it.  And his companions were all standing on the floor, not drifting down into or through it.  Curious.

Sam was surprised to see Dracora in her forest dragon guise.  If she�d morphed into any of the other dragon types, she wouldn�t fit in the room or the hallway outside.  Although maybe it wouldn�t matter, because she could just move her form through the walls.  Sam stood up and peeked out into the hallway.  A nurse and a doctor were examining and discussing a patient�s chart in hushed voices two doors down.  A Candy Striper, who looked like a high school girl, was walking his way, and various other hospital staff were going to and fro, apparently busy with the day to day work of a hospital.  None of them took notice of Sam or anyone else of his gang, including the rather out-of-place forest dragon.  Sam spoke to the Candy Striper as she passed by, �Ma�am, excuse me.�  But she ignored him completely, her blonde beehive hairdo bobbing along atop her head. He reached out to grab her arm, but his hand passed right through her.

This looked like the room where he�d found Rachel, and the hallway looked like the third floor of the hospital, except that everything was new and clean.  The linoleum was the same as he�d seen just a few minutes ago � white with blue, green, and red flecks in it.  But it was no longer worn or yellowed.  Sam glanced again at that old-style phone.  It had a circular dial, not buttons, of a style he�d not seen since he was a kid.  But, like everything else, it looked new.  He was beginning to comprehend what had actually happened to them, but he wasn�t sure enough to voice his opinion yet.

Rachel was saying they should check out Doctor Sullivan�s office.  She could complete the sleuthing she had begun and maybe find some clues to help them out of their dilemma.  Sam nodded his agreement, and they headed down the hallway to the Doctor�s office.  Certainly no one was going to stop them.  The doctor wasn�t in, but his certificates, honors, awards, and diplomas were prominent on the walls in simple, black frames.  As Rachel headed to the big mahogany desk, Sam perused the doctor�s credentials.  There was a PhD in Neurobiology from Oxford, an MD from Yale, Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine, certified Psychotherapist, a teaching award from the University of Maine, a genius award from the Billings Institute, Medical Researcher of the Year Award from the American Medical Association.  Say what you will about the doctor, but the list of awards and accolades for Doc Sullivan was amazingly impressive.

Words of frustration came out of Rachel�s mouth.  Sam was hoping the baby wasn�t listening, because if it was, her little ears would be burning red.  Rachel was trying to go through the doctor�s papers, but her hands couldn�t turn the pages.  Of course.  Sam went back to the teaching award and noted that it was dated February 1962.  Everything in the office, in fact, everything he�d seen since he awoke looked old.  Well, not old, but from a different era.  Oddly, Doctor Sullivan�s office was without a computer.  How could someone so smart, so much at the top of his game, be without a computer?  That�s when he noticed the calendar on the wall. It was from a pharmaceutical company � Pfizer.  The calendar picture was very Norman Rockwellesque � a smiling country doctor trying to convince a young girl to take what must have been an awful tasting cough medicine from a spoon.  But it wasn�t the picture that Sam Winchester found riveting. It was the date. The calendar was open to October 1964.  Doctor Sullivan had circled the 31st and written in an almost unreadable doctor�s script, �party for my daughters.�

�Guys, I don�t think we�re in Kansas anymore.� He could have said Maine 2012, but Kansas seemed more appropriate.  He also began to comprehend that none of them were ghosts, per se.  All of them were born well after 1964.  In fact, in 1964, none of them were even glimmers in their father�s eyes, as folks like to say.  So they couldn�t be dead.  They simply didn�t exist.