Disclaimer: I do not own the Pretender. Never have, never will. ~sigh~

The burning torches threw odd shadows around the bricks of the old cavernous castle, playing with the darkness around it. The dirt crunched under his boots as he walked through the large arched entrance, his head tipped back to admire the brilliant structure.

"The place is the Devil’s home," an old man whimpered, standing a couple feet behind him, shaking. "How did you talk me into this, Mr. Brent?"

"Call me Jarod," he replied, giving him an uneasy smile over his shoulder. "I told you before, Mr. Turner, I needed to see the place at night. The sightings always happen at night, right?"

"I didn’t need to come," the man mumbled, rubbing his hands up and down his arms.

"No, you didn’t," Jarod chuckled, turning back to the castle.

The man looked perplexed and then scratched his neck in confusion. "Damn," he whispered. "Damn, damn."

"You said there were many séances here. None of them worked?"

"That’s why we called you, Mr.- Jarod," Turner sighed, giving the darkness behind him a quick look. "They say you are the best Ghostbuster- or whatever the hell they call you now."

The right side of his mouth curled up, but didn’t say anything on that. Instead, asked, "Have there been actual sightings of ghosts or unusual happenings?"

"Yeah," the man said, wide-eyed. "Tons."

"Have you seen any kids or anyone around here that shouldn’t be?"

"Like pranksters?" Turner questioned, looking offended. "You think someone has been fooling around for all the years this castle has stood here?"

"No, no," Jarod quickly corrected. "I was just covering-"

"Right, uh huh... Sure," the man sighed, nudging towards Jarod when he heard a branch snap in the woods at the right of the building’s entrance.

"Turner, if you’d like, you can return to the van while I look around."

"And walk back by myself?" the man quivered. "Are you kidding?"

Jarod chuckled and turned for the entrance, finally stepping through the flame lit walk and into the enormous courtyard beyond. He stopped and looked around, a cool breeze blowing through his black trench coat. He shivered and pulled the thick material tighter around him, beginning his trek towards the double doors that stood twice as tall as he was.

"Jarod," Turner whispered behind him. "Are you sure you wanna do this tonight? I mean, can’t we do this some other time with a lot more other men?"

"I wanted to be able to look around without tag-a-longs," Jarod explained, peeling his eyes away from the wooden doors.

"Dear god, why?" Turner gasped, again looking around stiffly.

Shaking his head, Jarod turned for the large ringed doorknob and pulled at it with all his might. The door gave a mighty creak and swung open ever so slowly, revealing the complete darkness with in. Quickly reaching in his pocket, Jarod brought out his flashlight and flicked it on, moving it around the large room. There was a grand table that stood in the center of the room, with two matching chairs and a shelf against the furthest wall. On its shelves were worn books collecting cobwebs, set in their places many years ago.

"Jarod?" Turner whispered and Jarod nearly jumped at the man’s sudden breath on his neck. "W-what do you see?"

"Everything but ghosts, Mr. Turner," Jarod grinned at him. "C’mon."

Stepping inside, both men shivered at the cool interior air that seemed to have settled. Jarod pulled out a lighter and made a move of lighting the lanterns around the room, the warm glow successful at lighting the room enough to see. Turner stood near the still open door and wrapped himself in his arms.

"Not going to be long, right?" he asked into the silent air. "Because, I, ah, have things to do."

Jarod ignored him as he crept towards the first door. He braced himself, reached out and yanked the door open. It was only a broom closet, with only cobwebs to fill its depths. Jarod softly released the breath he was unaware of holding. "How many tour groups do you have coming through here?" Jarod questioned absent mindedly, closing the door and walking towards another one.

"As many groups that dare to come here."

"And out of how many are there sightings?" Jarod asked, turning to look at the man.

"Uh... almost all of them, actually. That’s what people come here to see. I guess the not knowing it isn’t rigged keeps them coming."

Jarod nodded and turned for a door, pulling it open and peering inside. A long corridor met him and he blinked into it, shining his flashlight down the hall to see doors lining the walls. The beam of light didn’t reach very far and Jarod silently gulped into the black pit.

He heard Mr. Turner groan from behind him. "Please, please, don’t go down there. I like just staying here very much."

"Then stay here," Jarod offered, giving him a quick look over his shoulder. "I’m going down there."

"N-no. Please! Stay here."

"I’ll be back in a minute," Jarod called, ignoring the rest of the man’s pleas.

By time he reached the end of the hall, Jarod couldn’t hear him anymore and went about exploring each room along the corridor. The first room he entered was a parlor, which looked like it had to have been once beautiful, but now dusty with worn furniture. The second room was another sitting area, which they once called the 'Blue Room', hence the blue chairs and the blue couch.

When he came to the third door, Jarod slowed his quick pace and shivered as he stepped into the dangerously eerie bedroom. It had a four post king-sized bed and large mirror lining one of the walls. Long linen curtains draped from the window, torn and faded with its old age. Shining the flashlight around, the sight of a child’s cradle met his eyes and he froze, stepping up to the doll that was laid within it.

A cool breeze blew up from behind him and Jarod gasped, spinning around and shining the light around frantically. Nothing... just the empty room greeted him.

"Damn," Jarod gasped.

"Please," someone said and Jarod yelped in fear, spinning towards the door. There stood Turner with his head poked in the doorway. "Please, let’s go."

"Jesus, Turner," Jarod gasped. "Don’t do that."

"What?" the man asked, panicked. "Did something happen?"

"No," Jarod snarled, a little too harshly, but didn’t seem to want to apologize. Storming towards the man, he pushed passed him and briskly walked towards the main room. But, before he reached the door, it slammed shut before him and Jarod skidded to a shocked halt.

"What?" Turner asked from behind him. "What happened?"

"The door..." Jarod whispered, seeing his breath come out in gasps in front of him. Was it really that cold in there? "It closed on its own."

"Don’t shit with me!" Turner quivered, using language that didn’t fit his age.

Suddenly, something from the side slammed into Jarod and he grunted in pain as he hit the opposite wall. Jarod gasped and slid down to the floor, trying to catch his breath. Turner stood over him, cursing and shivering, looking around like a scared deer.

"Oh lord, oh lord."

"That’s alright," Jarod gasped, still trying to recover. "I’m okay."

Then, something slammed into him again, from the front this time, and Jarod leaned his head back and shouted in pain. His whole body shuddered, as if someone had body slammed him, and his eyes blurred over into a cloud of red.

"Jarod?" He could faintly hear his name spoken by Turner. "Jarod, are you alright."

He gasped, and could hear heartbeats in his ears, yet it was too calm to be his own. Blinking rapidly, the blurred image of Turner finally came into view. "Jarod? Jarod are you okay? Speak to me!"

"Turner..." Jarod gasped. "What happened?"

"I don’t know, but I want the hell out of here!"

"Yeah," Jarod agreed, getting to his feet with Turner’s help. "I’m in for it."

"Good."

Together, both men ran through the main quarters and out of the castle, not daring to look back when they heard the front doors slam shut behind them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Broots yawned and stretched his arms high over his head, nearly tumbling over in his chair. Parker came striding in, eyeing the tired tech, and then rolling her eyes. "Sleeping on the job, Broots?"

The tech jumped and he turned around to smile shyly at the brunette. "No, Miss Parker. Just really tired."

Parker looked at her watch and crooked an eyebrow. "Is it really passed your bedtime?"

"You’ve had me at this computer for nearly nine hours. I’d like a break."

"Awe," Parker pouted mockingly. "Well, that’s too bad, Brootsie." Her face dropped into a dead serious one and she carefully drew out, "Because you aren’t getting one." Turning on her heel, she made her way to the door and shouted over her shoulder, "Call me if you find anything."

Broots watched her disappear, before sighing with absolute defeat, and turned for his keyboard again. "Sure," he replied sourly under his breath. "Whatever you say."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jabbing her finger on the elevator call button, she took a step back and waited for the doors to slide open. But, a large, light-haired man caught her attention as he carefully strode up to her with his dark eyes leveled on her breasts.

"I’m up here, buddy," she snarled, pointing to her face.

He rose unsettling eyes and smiled into her narrowed gaze. "Of course."

"Who the hell are you?" Parker sneered, unfazed by his stare.

The man rose a hand to shake, but Parker ignored it, and after a moment, he dropped it to his side with a laughing smile. "I’m Dr. Brown. Mr. Parker hired me as another doctor to work with the children."

"Another Sydney," she stated, lifting both eyebrows.

"I’ve heard of the man’s work. Brilliant doctor." He smiled and added, "Brilliant pretender." Parker didn’t comment as she went on staring at the fifty-something year-old man, watching as he shifted to the other foot, studying her calmly. "You are Miss Parker, am I correct?"

"You are correct."

"You look just like your mother," Dr. Brown smiled, shaking his head.

"You knew my mother?"

"Of course," he replied. "I worked here a long time ago."

"Oh really?" Parker said, craning her head to the side. "Why’d you quit?"

"I had family business," he answered smoothly. "A death took me away from Delaware."

"Shame," Parker sighed, noticing for the first time the doors had opened. "Well, Dr. Brown," she said stiffly. "I have a feeling that I will see you around."

"Most definitely," he smiled, bowing his head. She nodded and stepped into the elevators, turning to watch him before the doors closed him out.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Resting his cheek on his open palm, Jarod flipped another page and read through the old text that held the castle’s history, filing it away in his head. It was amazing of all the stories that place held, mostly stories of murder or death. It was, however, hard to tell if some were true or just fiction to receive more tourists.

"Ah, Lucifer Castle," someone said, peering over his shoulder at the book. "Amazing place isn’t it?"

Jarod tilted his head back and smiled at Mr. Turner’s daughter, Jayda, who helped her father run the tours of the castle and also this small Lucifer Castle Museum. She was mid thirties with shoulder-length blonde hair and green eyes, with a very friendly and attractive face.

"Yes, it is," Jarod agreed, gesturing to the chair next to him. "Mind if I pick your brain about it?"

She smiled and sat down. "Start picking."

"How many years have you been running tours at Lucifer Castle?"

"For almost four years now," she answered, sitting back in her seat.

"And, out of those years, how many people have you had physically attacked by a ghost?"

"Physically attacked?" she blinked, tilting her head. "Well, I wouldn’t put it that way. There are gentle pushes on some occasions. Others it’s just lights flickering, candles going out, gushes of winds, and those sorts. Nothing worth suing for." She shook her head, clasping her hands on her lap. "We wouldn’t have tours if people’s lives were in danger."

Jarod furrowed his brow, but didn’t further comment on that. "Does your dad do anymore tours?"

Jayda grunted and shook her head. "Hell no. Dad can be tough when he wants to be, but not when it comes to the ‘other world’." She paused and looked down at her clasped hands. "He used to though."

"What happened?"

"I guess he lost the fun in it when mom died."

Jarod frowned. "I’m sorry."

"Yeah, me too," Jayda sighed.

Wanting to change the subject, Jarod asked, "Tell me the stories that you tell on your tours."

Jayda smiled a little and sat up in her seat. "Didn’t you get all you needed to know from those books?"

Jarod tossed a look at the table, before shrugging. "Just wanted to hear it from an expert."

Jayda smiled a little with flattery, before beginning, "There are lots of stories to tell. But, we only tell a couple on the tours to save time and energy. People believe that a ghost of a little girl wanders the castle’s halls. The story behind her is that while sliding down the stair banister, she fell and broke her neck. They think she’s the prankster that is turning off the lights and slamming doors."

"Yeah, I read about her," Jarod replied, placing a hand on a book next to him. "Caitlin Chillingworth, right?"

Jayda nodded and continued, "Another tragic story is of a woman, who was murdered by her husband while sitting in front of her makeup mirror. Her back was towards him, so she didn’t see him creep up and slit her throat."

Jarod frowned. "Who was she?"

Jayda lowered her eyes in thought. "Mmm... Churchill, I think it’s Pearl Churchill. Her husband and murderer, William Churchill, is also believed to be running around. He’s the one that does the pushing and the cold gushes of winds." Looking at her watch, she tossed him a polite smile. "Sorry, Jarod, but a tour group is going to be here any minute. I need to get my things together."

Jarod nodded. "Thank you for your time, Jayda."

"Any time," she said getting up. "Maybe we can do lunch."

"That would be great."

Watching her walk away to the front of the small museum, Jarod turned to the books next to him and sighed. "Lucifer," he said softly to himself. "What an appropriate name for a palace of hell."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"New search Broots," Parker announced, stepping into the tech lab. "Find anything you can on a Dr. Brown. Okay?" Broots frowned at her, but said nothing, turning for his computer to complete the brunette’s demand.

"A Dr. Brown?" Sydney repeated from the leather couch he sat at on the other side of the room. "He sounds familiar."

"It should," Parker said, turning her head to look at him. "He said he worked here a while back."

Sydney’s brow furrowed in thought and his eyes lowered to the floor, but he didn’t say anything else. Parker turned away from the shrink to the tech seated at the computer. "I want something on my desk in two hours, alright Broots?"

"I’ll try Miss Parker," Broots sighed, giving her a look over his shoulder. "But, I’m not making any promises."

"Then don’t promise me. Just get something."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jarod jumped out of the black van and gave Mr. Turner a sideways glance, seeing that the man was staring at the castle standing tall above the few trees that surrounded the dirt pathway to its entrance. Closing the driver’s side door, Jarod circled around the other side of the van and leaned against it, loading film into his Pro-Olympus camera.

"Why am I here again?" Turner asked, looking over at Jarod.

"It’s daytime, Turner," Jarod replied. "Nothing will happen now."

"Don’t be so sure," Turner growled, tucking his hands deep in his pockets and glowering at the pathway.

"C’mon. I want to take pictures of the rooms before the tour group gets here tonight," Jarod replied, pushing off the van, Turner slowly inching down the path behind him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The castle wasn’t nearly as frightening in the light of day, but it still had that eerie feeling that made Jarod shiver. Walking room to room, Jarod began to take pictures of various things, like walls and furniture that might help him figure out if anything *real* was causing the castle’s happenings.

Crossing over the hall to the next room, Jarod stood in the bedroom with the baby’s cradle and large four-post bed. Slowly, Jarod approached the doll that was set inside the crib and reached out for it, but froze as a vision crept into the corner of his eye.

It was a little girl with curly blonde hair, laughing and twirling around with the doll raised above her head. The white dress she wore flowed with her body, almost in an underwater effect. A music box played in the background, its tiny music uncanny and strange. She stopped her dancing suddenly and turned for the door, whimpering when a man stepped through the archway. His face was dark and shadowed, but the scowl set upon his appearance was evident to anyone.

Wordlessly, he stalked towards the little girl as she backed away with equal steps. Her face was filled with fear and silent tears streamed down her round, pink cheeks. Her back hit the foot of the bed and she screamed as the man grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off her toes.

"Stop it!" Jarod shouted. "You’re hurting her!"

Jarod ran for the man and attempted to push the stranger away, but he flew through him and hit the floor with a thud. Rolling onto his back, he looked up at the two, but they were both gone, leaving the room silent and bare.

"Jarod? What’s going on?" Turner asked from the doorway. Jarod snapped his head over towards the door and blinked at the man in confusion. "What happened Jarod?"

"I...," Jarod began, looking over at the foot of the bed again, "I don’t know."

Turner looked around fearful, before he crossed the room to help Jarod up to his feet. "I told you things can happen during the day! I thought you would learn after the first night! But, no-o! Just had to come back, didn’t you?"

"Turner, shut up!" Jarod huffed, rubbing his forehead.

"Shut up?" the man repeated with a snort.

"If you hate this place so much, why organize tour groups?" Jarod asked, studying his camera for possible damage.

"I’m a greedy man, Jarod," Turner hissed, brushing the dust off Jarod’s jacket absent-mindedly. "I’m a scared, greedy man who loves money. People are suckers when it comes to supernatural... *things*. Put a very old castle into the package and you get so many greens you’ll be all giddy!"

"Your daughter doesn’t seem to think so," Jarod replied.

"Jayda loves this stuff," Turner huffed, looking around the room. "Takes after her mother."

"Right," Jarod sighed, looking over at the foot of the bed again. Sliding his eyes over the wooden posts, he stopped at what looked like a small handprint pressed against the dust. Jarod opened his mouth to get Turner’s attention, but remained silent when he watched the print slowly fade away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Parker? Oh, Miss Parker!" Broots called, zigzagging in and out of the people to catch up to her in the corridor. She shot him an annoyed look, but continued walking towards her office. "Parker, I found a file on Dr. Brown."

She stopped at the doors and turned to him, snatching the file out of his hands. Flipping it open, she frowned down at the very little that was in it. "Gee, Broots, there’s so much-"

"No, no," Broots huffed, reaching over and flipping to the second page. "The amount doesn’t matter. It’s the picture."

Parker squinted down at the little black and white picture at the bottom right hand corner of the sheet and studied the two men standing in front and the couple of kids seated in the background. "He’s a friend of Raines, fancy that. So- what am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Look at the kids, Parker," Broots instructed, watching her face for her reaction.

She squinted at the picture, her eyes skipping to one face to the other. And then, her eyes widened in realization. "Jarod."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

With the absence of windows, the large foyer was darker then the other rooms and Jarod had to get his flashlight out. Shining his light on the banister, he reached a hand out and placed it on the cool wood. He thought of the little girl that might have died there and sadly shook his head. It had to have been awful.

Shining it up the stairs, he was unable to see where they led, but that didn’t stop him from beginning his climb up. Reaching the middle of the stairway, he stopped and stood there with a furrowed brow. It was strange, but he felt as if someone was watching him. Shining the light behind him, he frowned into the empty darkness, before turning and shining his flashlight up the stairs.

A dark form flashed across the archway and he started, blinking rapidly as if it would help adjust his eyes. He stood there, frozen, and waited for any further movement.

Nothing.

After a minute or two, he forced his legs to continued their ascent, but froze again when he heard a load creaking from up above. He swallowed hard and raised his flashlight up to the large dark archway, seeing the door straight across the hall slowly creeping open.

His wide brown eyes stared into the depth of the black pit of the room, his light unable to pick up anything inside. And as if his legs had a mind of their own, he continued upward towards it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Jarod?" Turner called, creeping down the hallway and shining his flashlight into the next room. "Jarod, are ya in h-here?" Pulling his coat around himself, he shivered into the coldness and let out a long breath just to watch it twirl out from his lips. "Jesus," he gasped, turning for the hallway again. "It’s freaking cold!"

Reaching the foyer, he eyed the footprints pressed in the red carpet that covered the stairway and shined his light upward into the black pit above. Gulping, he began his climb ever so slowly, wishing to God he was anywhere but here.

Reaching the top, he looked around, then stopped when he saw a bar of light shining underneath the door that was the closest to the stairs. Reaching out for the knob, he pushed it in and froze when he spotted Jarod standing across the room, lighting the last of the candles. Turner gulped and looked around the room, taking in the hundreds of lit candles lining the shelves and tables. If he wasn’t so scared, he would of thought the scene to be beautiful.

"Jarod," Turner gasped. Jarod spun around and looked at him in surprise. "W-what are you doing? Where did you find all these candles?"

"Shh," Jarod hushed him, pressing a finger to his lips.

The two men stood in complete silence, just the whispering of the candle flames tickling the air. Turner had no idea what he was listening for, and his stomach knotted and turned to think that Jarod did.

"Turner, look," Jarod whispered, pointing. Turner followed the indicated direction and watched a large candle on the table next to the door flicker and dance on its wick. And with a soft whoosh it was out, leaving only twirling smoke in its wake.

"A breeze," Turner explained tightly.

Then, as if on cue, each candle after that went out one by one, causing a domino effect all the way around the room. Turner gasped, his eyes following the trail of candles, turning in a complete circle until the very last candle on the other side of the door was out. Then, an invisible force slammed the door shut and Turner yelped and stumbled away from the thunderous noise.

Jarod caught the old man’s shoulders when he bumped into him, hushing him once again and reaching around to turn off his flashlight, engulfing them into pitch-blackness.

"Listen," Jarod whispered in his ear.

Turner had as much listening as he could take, but pure horror kept him silent and still. The only thing *he* could hear was his damn heart beat in his ears. His eyes began to adjust and finally he could make out the closed door straight in front of him. He could think of thousands upon thousands of other places he wanted to be right now, and this was certainly *not* on his list.

A click sound brought Turner’s attention to the doorknob and he watched wide-eyed as it began to turn. Slowly, the door creaked open, the sound a high pitched squeal in the dead air. Turner pushed back against Jarod as hard as he could, trying to get as far from the door as possible. But, Jarod easily kept the man in place, whispering, "It’s okay. I want to see what it is. Shhh."

Softly, the door bumped into the table against the wall behind it, knocking a single candle off its surface. It thumped onto the floor and rolled across the thin red carpet, hitting the toe of Turner’s shoe.

Looking up from the fallen candle, the old man gasped and began to push back against Jarod once again, repeating, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!"

In the doorway stood a small dark form, barely able to make out the curly blonde hair and round, pink face. She stood about three feet tall, clad in a light blue dress and staring at them with a pair of large, shadowed eyes.

"Oh my god..." Jarod whispered from behind him. "It’s Caitlin."

Suddenly, from an invisible force, the door slammed shut and through the room swarmed a violent wind that knocked and tossed the unlit candles everywhere.

"Get down!" Jarod shouted, diving for the floor, Turner following suit.

Covering his head, Jarod grunted as he felt something hit him in the back, before rolling across the floor and underneath a large oak table. Peering out from underneath his shelter, Jarod watched as Turner panicky crawled for the door, ducking and dodging flying objects. Upon reaching it, he jumped up, swung the door open, and shot out of the room like a bat out of hell.

"Shit," Jarod muttered under his breath, suddenly by his self. Something fell and crashed onto the table heavily, and Jarod ducked in surprise, looking up at the bottom of the desk in question.

And just like that, everything stopped and became eerily silent. Blinking, Jarod reached into his pocket and pulled out his flashlight, shining it around the destroyed room.

It was suddenly too quiet.

Crawling out slowly, Jarod stood, keeping his flashlight moving around the room to catch any further movement. Turning around, he spotted the heavy object that had fallen on the table and realized it was a large framed portrait that had been leaning against the wall face first. Now, the front exposed, Jarod tilted his head to look at it right side up, seeing a young woman with light brown hair sitting in a chair and a man standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders. Neither were smiling.

"Churchill?" Jarod questioned softly.

Turning from the picture, Jarod crossed the room to a small dresser, leaning down and picking up a small book that was thrown down beside it. Tucking it under his arm, he looked around one last time, before he left quickly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"B342?" Parker repeated, shining her light up the shelves of archives as she and her two companions strode down the aisle of SL-26. "Are you sure, Broots?"

"That’s what it said on the file," Broots stammered, wiping dust off a file drawer and continuing on when it wasn’t the right one. "Or at least, I think it was."

"Broots," Parker snapped, grabbing him by the collar and directing her flashlight right into the tech’s eyes. "It was or it wasn’t."

"It was," Broots gulped. "I swear."

"Over here, you two," Sydney called from the far end of the corridor and both turned their heads to acknowledge him. "I found it."

Parker and Broots made it to Sydney’s side just as he was pulling the drawer open, revealing a file and a small, black bag inside. Grabbing the bag and folder from its hiding, Sydney frowned upon the items and gave a quick look to the pair beside him.

"Well, stop stalling," Parker huffed, snatching the bag from him. "Heaven forbid we actually walk forward from time to time." Pulling the bag open, Parker sneered into its contents and pulled out the small pajamas with printed cowboys on them. "What the hell?"

Broots took the garment from her and studied them, before giving Sydney a smile. "I have a pair just like these!"

Rolling her eyes, Parker dug through the rest of the small pack and brought out a small toy plane carved in wood. "That’s it," she announced, handing the toy to Sydney to trade for the file. Parker flipped the folder open and jumped back when its contents slid out the bottom and onto the floor, cursing and crouching down to retrieve the papers and a DSA. She picked the disk up and turned it in her fingers, raising her head to look directly at Broots from her crouched position.

"Yeah, yeah," Broots sighed, bending to take the DSA from her. "I’ll get on it."

Skipping her eyes to Syd, she froze and furrowed her brow at Sydney’s suddenly pale expression. "Sydney? Are you alright?" Standing, she pulled the toy from his hands that he was so intently staring at and turned it in her hand. On the bottom of the plane was a small engraved word:

Jarod.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

FEEDBACK please! I love to hear from you! -Kari (AngelWings)

Part 2