And I Rise [1] (Supernatural)

Uʀʙᴀɴ Exᴘʟᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ || Nɪɴᴇ

Legs crossed under me on the Impala's hood, I leafed through the medical journal I'd stolen from the local library. Every page was like something out of a nightmare. The things the doctors did to the people at Roosevelt...it was beyond inhumane. Lobotomies, electroshock "therapy", isolation, simulated drownings, starvation, and scalding. These psychopaths weren't helping these people. They were torturing them.

And leading the charge was one Dr. Sanford Ellicott, the head of the psychiatric ward, also know as the south wing, where all the action was going on now as much as it was then. From the history book I'd also taken, the torture got to the point where the patients started to fight back, hence the riot in '64 that got the place shut down. They attacked the staff, each other; pretty much anyone who got in their way.

"So, what, the patients took over the asylum?"

I looked up from switching out the journal for the history book as Sam and Dean approached, Sam returning from interrogating Ellicott's son—who ironically also went into psychiatry too—under the guise of an appointment.

"Apparently," Sam replied.

"Any deaths?" Dean asked.

"Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory."

Dean rested against the hood next to where I sat. He leaned over. "Whatcha you reading?"

"History book." I snapped it shut. "Everything we need to know about the asylum that Ellicott's son didn't tell Sam. Turns out some of the bodies were never recovered, including, unsurprisingly, the head honcho himself." I jumped off the hood. "Cops dragged every inch of the place, searched every nook and cranny. Found nothing."

"The patients must have stuffed the bodies somewhere hidden," Sam added.

Dean crinkled his nose into a disgusted expression. "That's grim."

I opened the book to one of the last pages and handed it to Dean, Sam looking over his brother's shoulder. "They transferred all the surviving patients to the nearest mental hospital and Roosevelt was shut down for good."

Foresight truly was a beautiful thing; a skill that no one working at that place had. To think that the patients would continue to put up with being their personal punching bags until they were put in the ground was beyond stupid. Of course, there was going to be a riot sooner or later. But it looked like no one thought it would be as violent as it was. In the end, the deaths from the riot was both the catalyst of the hospital's shutdown but also just a normal day at Roosevelt Asylum.

"All right," Dean said, handing the book back to me. "To sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and unrecovered bodies."

"Which could mean a bunch of angry spirits," Sam added.

Dean grinned. "Good times. Let's check out the hospital tonight."

Oh, and this was going to go absolutely swimmingly. What could possibly go wrong?