Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ Samuel Michaels ❯ Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Don't own them

 

Chapter 5

 

“The coordinates are for Rockford, Illinois. I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this.” Dean turned the computer towards Sam.

“This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum.”

 

“So.....” Sam looked at him and Dean took out his father's journal. Sam had seen him reading it a lot, especially when they were working and he had to admit, John knew his stuff.

 

“Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal.” Dean flipped through the journal until he found a newspaper clipping about the asylum.

“Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths -- `til last week, at least. I think this is where he wants us to go.”

 

“It's not too far, especially with the way you drive. I should hunt first though.” Dean nodded and they left the room so that Sam could get some food.

 

Dean watched as Sam and a young woman got very friendly in the bar's alley. He hated seeing it and if he were truly honest with himself he'd admit that he did know Sam wasn't going to hurt anyone. But it was hard to get past twenty two years of training that said anything Supernatural was evil. Maybe he could let Sam hunt on his own soon since watching him make out with various people was a bit kinkier than his usual thing. Sam was so...sensual when hunting that it made him wonder how he'd ever thought the other male was human. The way he moved was more catlike than human. Then again he'd managed to trip over his own feet while on a case so maybe it was only when he was hungry? Sam was fairly willing to answer Dean's questions; he just had trouble knowing exactly what he should be asking.

 

Sam finally pulled away from the girl and she blew him a kiss before sauntering off, looking a little drunker than she had before but that was probably due to blood loss. Sam cleaned himself up and then turned to where Dean was hidden in the shadows. Sam always looked hesitant after feeding, like he was afraid Dean was going to turn him away. Dean wondered what Sam would do if he knew Dean couldn't do that.

 

------------------------------

They walked into the pub and Dean indicated a man at the bar. Sam nodded and wandered off, staying near but not close enough to alarm the man. Dean took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer.

 

“You're Daniel Gunderson, right? You're a cop?” Dean asked and the man turned to him, annoyed.

 

“Yeah.” Was the short answer given.

 

“Heh. I'm, uh, Nigel Tufnel, with The Chicago Tribune. You mind if I ask you a couple questions about your partner?” Dean told him, already half wondering if he should have let Sam do this part.

 

“I do. I'm just tryin' to have a beer here.” Daniel told him and Dean swore he could hear Sam laughing at him.

 

“It's okay, it won't take that long. I just wanna hear the story in your words.” Dean tried.

 

“A week ago, my partner was sitting in that chair. Now he's dead. You gonna ambush me here?” Daniel demanded angrily and Dean could feel Sam moving closer.

 

“Sorry. But I need to know what happened.” Dean said and forced himself not to tense as he felt Sam come up behind him.

 

“Hey, buddy, how `bout leavin' the poor guy alone, huh?” Sam grabbed Dean and pushed him into a table.

“The man's an officer. Why don't you show a little respect?” Sam growled out and Dean stared for a moment before leaving.

 

“You didn't have to do that.” Daniel said and Sam smiled.

 

“Yeah, of course I did. That guy's a serious jerk. Let me buy you a beer, huh?” Sam turned to the bartender and ordered two.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Dean was leaning against the Impala when Sam finally left the pub. Sam had half expected him to slip back inside to keep an eye on him but he hadn't. Then again...Sam had noticed a change in Dean's behaviour over the last week. It seemed like Sam was slowly winning Dean's trust back, something that made him incredibly happy. Conversations had become more like that had been before Dean had learnt the truth and Dean no longer watched his every move.

 

“You shoved me kind of hard in there, buddy boy.” Dean called with a small smile.

 

“I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting.” Sam answered with a grin.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Never mind.” Sam answered, shaking his head.

 

“What'd you find out from Gunderson?” Dean asked as they got in the car.

 

“So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even-keeled. He had a bright future ahead of him.” Sam sat back as Dean started the car and pulled out of the lot.

 

“What about at home?”

 

“He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but it was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids.” Sam told him while relaxing into the seat.

 

“All right, so, either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy way to bust out, or somethin' else did it to him.” Dean thought it out even as he pulled in to the spot in front of their room door.

 

“Right.”

 

“What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?” Dean asked as he got out and Sam grinned.

 

“A lot.”

 

-----------------------------------

“So apparently, the cops chased the kids here -- into the south wing.” Sam told Dean as they moved further into the building. He was still chuckling slightly at the look on Dean's face when he'd simply lifted the mortal up and then easily leapt well above the level of the fence, landing gently on the other side. Needless to say Dean had not been impressed but it had felt good to let some of his abilities other than feeding show.

 

“The south wing, huh? Wait a second.” Dean dug out the journal and flipped through it.

“In 1972, three kids broke into the south wing. Only one survived.” The way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lightin' up the place.”

 

“So, whatever's goin' on, south wing seems like the heart of it.”

 

“Yeah, but if kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?” They paused at the wing doors, staring at the chains.

 

“Looks like the doors are usually chained. Could have been chained up for years.” Sam commented.

 

“Yeah, to keep people out -- or to keep somethin' in?” Dean asked and Sam shrugged before pushing the door open easily. He then lifted a section of chain and snapped them without effort.

 

“Only to keep something of human strength in, those chains weren't very strong.” Sam said as they moved into the south wing. They walked through the halls, Dean using an EMF and Sam simply opening all his senses.

“You getting any readings?” Sam eventually asked since he wasn't sensing anything.

 

“Nope. Of course, it doesn't mean nobody's home.” Dean answered and Sam nodded.

 

“Spirits can appear during certain hours of the day.”

 

“And the freaks come out at night.” Dean commented absently and Sam fought the urge to flinch.

 

“Yeah.” Sam answered quietly. They walked into a room and Dean shuddered, Sam had seen worse. On several tables stand jars preserving body parts. Several other tools used in the asylum were scattered around the room.

 

“Man. Electroshock, lobotomies -- they did some twisted stuff to these people. Kind of like my man, Jack in Cuckoo's Nest.” Dean grinned wickedly and Sam rolled his eyes making Dean's smile fade.

“So, what do you think? Ghosts are possessing people?”

 

“Maybe. Or maybe it's more like, uh, like Amityville or the Smurl haunting.”

 

“Yeah, spirits drivin' `em insane. Kind of like my man Jack in The Shining.” Dean picked up a plaque and studied it before handing it to Sam. Chief of Staff. Sanford Ellicott, M.D. was etched onto the plaque and they exchanged a look.

“Sanford Ellicott. You know what we've got to do? We've gotta find out more about the south wing, and see if somethin' happened here.” They left the asylum after that.

 

--------------------------------

Dean couldn't believe he'd let Sam talk him into being the one to do this. He would much rather be anywhere but Creekview Medical Centre but Sam had just waved and smiled before walking away, traitor. Why did he have to be the one to see Dr. James Ellicott?

 

“Dean Winchester?” Dean stood nervously and nodded.

 

“That's me.”

 

“Come on in.” Dean followed the doctor into his office.

 

“Thanks again for seeing me at the last minute.” Dean said as he sat down. On Ellicott's desk, he notices a picture of Ellicott as a child with another older man. A plaque on the wall read, Presented to Dr. James Ellicott for 15 Years of Service to the Rockford Chamber of Commerce.

“Dr. Ellicott…Ellicott, that name -- wasn't there a Dr. Sanford Ellicott? Yeah, he was a chief psychiatrist somewhere.”

 

“My father was Chief of Staff at the old Roosevelt Asylum. How did you know?”

 

“Uh, well, I'm sort of a local history buff. Hey, wasn't there, uh, an incident or somethin' in the hospital, I guess, in the south wing, right?”

 

“We're on your dollar, Dean. We're here to talk about you.”

 

“Oh, okay, yeah, yeah, sure.” Dean answered, unsure what to say.

 

“So.” Doctor Ellicott tried.

 

“So.” Dean parroted back.

 

“How's things?”

 

“Uh…things are good, Doctor.” Dean rubbed his hands against his jeans.

“Good. Whatcha been doing?”

 

“Uh…same old. I've just been on a road trip with my.. brother.” Dean covered and then wanted to hit himself. Was he still thinking of Sam as if he were Sammy? That was not good, especially considering some of what he'd been feeling lately.

 

“Was that fun?”

 

“Loads. Uh...you know, we met a lot of…interesting people. Did a lot of, uh…a lot of interesting things. Uh…you know, what was it exactly that happened in the south wing? I forget—“

“Look, if you're a local history buff, then you know all about the Roosevelt riot.”

 

“The riot? No, I know, I was just curious-“ A riot? Why hadn't Sam found that in his research?

 

“Dean. Let's cut the bull, shall we? You're avoiding the subject.”

 

“What subject?”

“You. Now, I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you all about the Roosevelt riot if you tell me something honest about yourself. Like, uh…this brother you're road-tripping with -- how do you feel about him?” Dean stared at Ellicott and fought the urge to get up and run out of the office. He had to do this though.

 

-------------------------------

Sam was waiting for him when Dean finally left, eerily mirror the way things had been the other night at the pub.

 

“How'd it go?”

 

“Next time you deal with the creepy doctor. Learnt some stuff though.”

 

“Like?” Sam got in the passenger side.

 

“And the south wing? That's where they housed the real hard cases -- the psychotics, the criminally insane.” Dean told him and Sam grimaced.

 

“Sounds cosy.”

 

“Yeah, and one night in '64, they rioted -- attacked staff, attacked each other.” Dean continued.

 

“So, what, the patients took over the asylum?”

 

“Apparently.”

 

“Any deaths?” Sam asked and Dean nodded.

 

“Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our Chief of Staff, Ellicott.”

 

“Wait, what do you mean, “never recovered”?”

 

“Cops scoured every inch of the place, but I guess the patients must have…stuffed the bodies somewhere hidden.” Dean explained.

“So, they transferred all the surviving patients and shut down the hospital for good.”

 

“So basically we have a bunch of violent deaths and a lot of unrecovered bodies. Which could mean a bunch of angry spirits.” Sam said and then groaned under his breath making Dean grin.

 

“Oh, good times. Let's check out the hospital tonight.”

 

---------------------------------------

“Getting readings?” Sam asked as the EMF went mad.

 

“Yeah, big time. You?”

 

“There's something...angry here. More than one. But they don't feel really violent at the moment.” Sam answered.

 

“Let's hope they stay that way.”

 

“If these unrecovered bodies are causing the haunting…”

“We've gotta find `em and burn `em. Just be careful, though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed-off spirit is the pissed-off spirit of a psycho killer.” Dean finished and Sam nodded.

 

-------------------------------

“You get them out of here, I'll find room 137.” Sam said and Dean shook his head.

“Dean...” Sam let his eyes change briefly and Dean reluctantly agreed. Sam knew Dean didn't like it but Sam was the safest of them while wandering alone. Sam eventually found the room and opened the door. Inside, furniture, papers, and other odds and ends were strewn everywhere. He eventually found a cabinet and pulled out a leather case full of papers. The more he read the more his frown deepened. He eventually shoved the papers back and took off, following Dean's scent back towards where they had stopped. He dodged back around the corner as the shotgun went off.

 

“It's me! Don't shoot!” Sam called and then walked into the hallway, hands raised.

 

“Sorry, Sorry.” The girl Kat called. Sam ignored the smell of blood coming from their various scrapes as he looked around.

 

“Why are you still here? And where's Dean?”

 

“He went to the basement. You called him.”

 

“I didn't call him.” Sam was getting a very bad feeling.

 

“His cell phone rang. He said it was you.”

 

“Basement, huh?” Gavin nodded.

“All right. Watch yourselves.” He grabbed a gun from the floor.

“And watch out for me.” Sam headed down to the basement, hoping he could find Dean before whatever had messed with his phone did.

“Dean! Dean, you down here?” Sam turned to see Dean standing in front of him and nearly jumped. There was no way Dean could do that without Sam sensing him.

“Dean! Answer me when I'm callin' you. You all right?” Sam frowned, something was wrong he just didn't know what it was.

 

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Sam's frown deepened at Dean's answer.

 

“You know that wasn't me who called your cell, right?” Sam asked, trying not to give away that he knew something was off.

 

“Yeah, I know. I think somethin' lured me down here.”

 

“I think I know who -- Dr. Ellicott. That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. You haven't seen him, have you?” Sam asked, becoming more on edge the longer they talked. There was definitely something in the basement with them.

 

“No. How do you know it was him?” And apparently it had its hooks in Dean because there was no way he'd usually talk like that under the circumstances.

 

“Because I found his log book. Apparently, he was experimenting on his patients -- some awful stuff. It makes lobotomies look like a couple aspirin.” Sam explained, looking around but keeping an eye on Dean.

 

“But it was the patients who rioted.”

 

“Yeah, they were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger, then they'd be cured of it. Instead, it only made them worse and worse, and angrier and angrier. So I'm thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? To the cop, to the kids in the seventies - making them so angry they become homicidal. Come on. We gotta find his bones and torch them.”

 

“How? The police never found his body.” Dean asked and Sam could almost see something in his eyes, Ellicott had definitely done something to him.

 

“The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere, where he'd work on his patients. So if I was a patient, I'd drag him down here, do a little work on him myself.” Sam explained, acting as if he didn't know something was wrong.

 

“I don't know. It sounds kind of—“

 

“Crazy?” Sam asked with a grin.

 

“Yeah.” Dean watched Sam look around for the room for a bit before speaking again.

“I told you, I looked everywhere. I didn't find a hidden room.”

 

“Well, that's why they call it hidden.” Sam replied, trying not to snap at Dean, it wasn't his fault the good doctor got to him after all.

“You hear that?”

 

“What?” Dean watched as Sam crouched and put his hand by the space between the wall and floor.

 

“There's a door here.” Sam told Dean, bending further to examine it and not noticing Dean raising his shotgun.

 

“Sam.” Sam turned to Dean and frowned as Dean's nose began to bleed.

“Step back from the door.” Sam stood up slowly, not wanting to set Dean off.

 

“Dean, put the gun down.” Sam told him softly.

 

“Is that an order?” Dean growled out and Sam shook his head.

 

“No, just a friendly request.” Sam answered evenly. Dean aimed the shotgun at Sam's chest.

“I knew it. Ellicott did something' to you, didn't he?” Sam asked, wanting to keep Dean talking. Maybe if he gave him enough time Dean could fight it off himself.

 

“For once in your life, just shut your mouth.”

 

“What are you going to do, Dean? The gun's filled with rock salt. Not gonna kill me. Wouldn't even kill you.”Sam's eyes went wides as Dean fired and thanks to the shock the blast actually managed to knock him off his feet and through the wall.

 

“No. But it'll hurt like hell.” Dean answered. Sam lay on his back staring up at Dean in shock, he'd actually shot him!

 

“Dean we've got to burn Ellicott's bones, and this'll all be over. You'll be back to normal.” Sam tried, he really didn't want to have to fight Dean. Not that it would be much of a fight.

 

“I am normal. Unlike you I happen to be human and normal. Not some blood sucking leech. You enjoy doing it too. You get some freakish kick out of making people feel like that don't you! Well no more. I won't let you.” Sam stared up at Dean, trying to hide the hurt. He really hoped it was Ellicott putting those words in Dean's mouth and Dean didn't really feel that way.

“I hate feeling like this! So I'm going to put an end to it right now.” Dean ground out and Sam's eyes went wide as he realised what Dean was saying. He needed Dean to snap out of it so he did the only thing he could think of.

 

“Well, then, here. Let me make it easier for you.” Sam pulled a pistol out of his jacket and slowly handed it up to Dean.

“Go on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt. Take it!” Dean slowly took it from him and dropped the shotgun to the floor before pointing the pistol right at Sam's heart.

“You hate me that much? You think you could kill someone in cold blood? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger.” Sam pushed and braced himself as Dean did just that. He hissed as the bullet tore through skin, muscle and his heart before lodging in the floor beneath him. Sam let his eyes close and his body go limp.

 

Dean froze as he saw the lifeless body before him, red blood beginning to pool beneath it and the gun fell from suddenly limp fingers as he dropped to his knees. He crawled forward and then doubled over, throwing up as his hand landed in the growing puddle. He remembered everything that had happened, all the horrible things he'd said to Sam but he hadn't meant them. It was like something was putting words in his head and making him say them. He reached for the gun, wanting to end it and then screamed as cool fingers clamped his wrist in an iron grip. Dean fought as he was restrained, screaming and flailing around. He'd killed Sam, his best friend, he didn't deserve to live. He finally slumped, exhausted, and that's when the words began to filter in.

 

“It's okay Dean, I've got you. You don't need the gun.” Dean's eyes went wide and he struggled to turn. The one holding him seemed to sense that and the grip loosened enough for him to move a bit. Dean turned and stared in hope at Sam's familiar features. Sam was the one holding him, Sam was alive. Though he was paler and colder than usually.

 

“Sam?” Dean hated that his voice was shaky but he had been mind raped by a ghost.

 

“Vampire remember? I hoped you'd snap out of it before you actually shot me. I'm sorry I let you think I was dead but I couldn't think of any other way to free you.” Sam explained quietly and Dean pulled back far enough that he could study Sam. There was a raged hole in his shirt but the skin beneath was smooth though covered in blood.

 

“Let's roast this bastard.” Dean growled and Sam nodded, helping Dean up. Dean hesitated for a moment before accepting the shotgun Sam held out to him and then they began to search the room.

 

-------------------------------------------

Sam pulled his shirt off and studied his chest, smiling as he saw there was no evidence left of the wounds Dean had inflicted. His aching teeth and throat however were a problem that needed fixing fast. He hadn't been this hungry in years. Obviously the wounds plus whatever Ellicott had tried to do to him just before Dean had fried the bones had made his hunger worse. His vision blurred for a second and he grabbed the sink to keep from falling, freezing as he felt someone catch him.

 

“Sam!” He blinked and looked up at Dean in confusion.

“You didn't answer me so I came in. Come on, let's get you to the bed.” Dean threw one of Sam's arms over his shoulder and then put his own around Sam's waist. He managed to half carry, half drag Sam over to the bed and lowered the taller man onto it.

“What's wrong?” Dean asked and Sam forced his gaze away from his throat.

 

“Blood.” Sam whispered, trying to ignore Dean's scent.

 

“Shit. You need to feed? The gunshot, you lost a lot of blood. This is my fault.” Sam caught Dean's sleeve and shook his head.

 

“Could of dodged.” Sam slowly pushed himself upright.

“Need to hunt.” Dean pushed him back down.

 

“You can't walk unaided let alone hunt Sam. And we're not close to a hospital or blood bank.” Dean looked around the room and then took off his over shirt, tossing it aside before stretching out beside Sam on the bed.

“You're going to have to feed off me Sam.” Sam shook his head even though his gaze was locked on Dean's carotid artery and Dean smiled.

“My fault so I'm going to fix it. It's okay Sam, I trust you. What I said back there, it wasn't me. You're my friend and I won't let you suffer like this. And can we just get this over with before we turn into girls?” Dean grumbled the last and Sam managed to force his gaze up to Dean's face for a second. Seeing the sincerity in his eyes Sam nodded.

 

Sam rolled closer and Dean fought the urge to tense up as Sam pulled him so that their bodies were touching. He gasped as Sam began nuzzling and then licking his neck. Dean slowly relaxed as Sam worked and he barely felt it when Sam finally bit him. The pull of blood was actually arousing as was the sucking motion and Dean was pretty sure he was blushing. That didn't stop him from wrapping an arm around Sam's waist though and shifting a little so that his head rested against Sam's shoulder. Dean didn't even try to push Sam away as he began to feel light headed, he trusted Sam to know when to stop. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was the look of horror on Sam's face and his own blood wetting Sam's lips.

 

TBC...