Rewrite Of Supernatural Series: Season 1.

Asylum - Part 3.

On the other side of the building, in the same deafening silence, you were sitting in the room 137. After a while of wondering, you had received a text from Dean: Meet me. 137. Found the boy, they are on their way out with Sam.

You were relived no human had died. And you understood 137 was a room number. You hadn't been far away from that place. So, you decided to check it out even before Dean joined you.

Entering it, the haywire state did nothing to make you back out and call for back-up. You sifted through a couple files, finding the name "Sanford Ellicott" once or twice in the disarrayed furniture. You sighed. This is gonna be a long search, you thought to yourself, getting to work.

While you worked, Sam and the gang reached the exit doors of the South Wing, pushing them, only to realise that they were locked. The hazel-eyed hunter pushed harder, but it didn't show any signs of opening. They were locked in by a paranormal force.

'All right,' Sam sighed. 'I think we have a small problem.'

'Let's break it down,' urged Gavin.

'I don't think that's gonna work.'

'Then a window!' the kid desperately said.

'They're barred,' countered the girlfriend, observing without letting panic cloud her judgement. Even though she had a psychiatrist in her future, she had no doubt become more courageous after her horrifying, but brave encounter with a flickering dead human.

'Well, how are we supposed to get out?' exclaimed Gavin.

'That's the point, we're not. There's something in here. It doesn't want us to leave.'

'Those patients,' wondered Kat.

'No,' Sam told them. 'Something else.'

As if the frequency of his thoughts had reached your brain, you pointed your flashlight to the corner. A dustbin filled with papers, you looked through them, crouching down, but you found nothing of import. Your glance fell on the wall behind it, a loose section. You grabbed the part of the wall from the hole in the top right corner, and pulled.

Inside, you found a small briefcase. It was old-fashioned, but looked like carried something important. You smirked, pulling it out. You put it on a table that was the only one that hadn't been upturned. You sat down in front of it, 'This is why I get paid the big bucks.'

You produced a journal from inside the briefcase. The first page was labelled "Patient's Journal". Well, this is gonna be a fun read, you sarcastically thought. You flipped through the pages. The yellow colour had seeped into the old book over time. It contained hand-drawings of various experiments and machines that must have been used on the patients, and the drawings were subtitled with written observations and conclusion based upon the conducted experiments.

The readings made your head ache. 'Why all work and no play makes Dr Ellicott and very dull boy,' you murmured under your breath.

You heard something move, so you head snapped in that direction, but there was nothing there. You wondered if Dean was playing a practical joke on you, if so, you wouldn't hesitate to shoot him with salt. That would no doubt hurt him like a motherf—

Back where Sam was, he had searched the whole floor, but failed to find a way out. 'All right,' he addressed the kids, 'I've looked everywhere. There's no other way out.'

'So, what the hell are we gonna do?' Gavin demanded.

'For starters,' Sam said, 'we're not gonna panic.'

'Why the hell not?'

Before someone could answer, Sam's phone rang. He picked it up, 'Hey.'

'Sam, it's me,' Dean said over the phone. 'I see it. It's coming at me.'