We Have Always Lived In The Castle
Part 1

by ConspiracyBuff





Rating: R

Synopsis: Mulder goes ghost hunting.

Notes: Thanks to everyone who has shown renewed interest in my stories. This is written especially for Joey and Sue, who have contributed in so many ways.



Prologue

Scrambling into the butler's closet under the magnificent stairwell, Mulder pulled the door tightly closed and huddled in one tiny corner to wait. He desperately hoped this dusty spot would provide him safe refuge from whatever inhabited this abandoned and dilapidated house. Brushing cobwebs from his hair, Mulder attempted to calm himself and think rationally. Obviously, his options were extremely limited and giving into hysteria would most certainly cost his life.

The sudden and unexpected storm still raged. Bone jarring claps of thunder rocked the wretched house to its very foundation. Flash flooding had mired his car in a rapidly filling swamp. Mulder knew he wouldn't stand a chance leaving on foot.

Tears of self-reproach and terror bordering on panic stung his eyes. Mulder dashed the tears angrily with his fist, recalling the thousands of times Skinner had lectured him about keeping secrets and leaping headfirst into unknown situations without backup.

Thinking of Skinner made Mulder feel even worse. He would joyfully welcome the assistant director with open arms at the moment. He wouldn't complain about the punishment that would surely follow Skinner's gruff, yet warm embrace, either.

Instantly, Mulder's attention was snapped back to his present surroundings. He felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Goose bumps broke out along the flesh of his forearms.

Mulder was not alone.

Covering his mouth with both hands, the terrified agent tried to prevent his chattering teeth from giving away his location.



Thursday night...

Unable to sleep, Mulder sat at his computer, surfing the 'net. After hitting all the usual chat channels, he discovered a very new and exciting paranormal research website. Clicking delightedly through various and sundry links, Mulder finally hit the jackpot, when he came across a page containing maps and directions to a selection of houses within easy driving distance of DC.

If the web site was to be believed, one particular dwelling had nearly sixty years of documented witnessed accounts of paranormal activity: Objects moving of their own accord. Ectoplasm oozing from walls. Sudden and dramatic temperature drops. All the stereotypical signs of haunting. Willow House has remained silent and secluded for the last fifty years. The present owner had made no attempts to restore the once beautiful domicile. Due to its history and current state of disrepair, the distinguished old home is now uninhabitable. The web site owner cautioned any intrepid explorers interested in visiting to Willow House to reconsider. Of course, this warning only heightened Mulder's curiosity. He printed the map and directions, then book marked the site before logging off for the night.

Friday afternoon.....lunchtime

Mulder begged out of lunch, lying to Scully, claiming a slight temperature and headache.

Dr. Scully promptly sent him home, refusing to listen to any further arguments.

Instead of going straight to bed as his doctor ordered, Mulder changed into jeans, sneaks and a ratty old sweatshirt. He packed a satchel with audio and video recording equipment, his nifty new Sony digital camera, spare weapon, bottled water and his ever present bag of sunflower seeds.

As Mulder hopped into his car, he felt a thrill of excitement. He hoped to witness at least one spectral manifestation and capture it on tape. His smile widened, imagining the expressions on Scully and Skinner's faces, when he presented them with irrefutable proof of the existence of ghosts.



Meanwhile back at the ranch...

Scully snatched up the ringing telephone, "Scully. Is that you, Mulder?"

"No, it's Skinner. Where is Mulder, anyway? I need to speak with him," replied the gruff assistant director.

Scully sighed, "He said he had a headache, sir. He felt a little warm, so I sent him home with instructions to go straight to bed. Is there something I can help you with, sir?"

"No. Thanks anyway, Dana. I'll give him time to catch a nap, then call him at home." Skinner informed her before hanging up, "I really appreciate how well you look out for Mulder. I know I don't tell you, often enough. Thanks again, Dana."



As Mulder cruised along the freeway, the wind picked up, buffeting the car occasionally. He flipped on the radio to listen for a weather report. The radio announcer dutifully informed Mulder of only a slight chance of rain, sometime after midnight. Sighing with relief, Mulder turned off the radio and returned his attention to the map he had conveniently printed from the website, last night.

Suddenly a jarring ring jolted him back to reality. Mulder cursed, as he snatched the ever present cell phone from his belt, "Mulder."

"I thought you were home sick with a fever and headache," questioned the ever vigilant Skinner.

"Uh...well," Mulder stalled, "I didn't have any aspirin in my apartment. I'm at the pharmacy, right now. I'm going straight home from here, Walter....and straight back to bed."

Skinner snorted, "See that you do. I'll be calling back later to check on you."

Angrily stuffing the phone back onto his belt, Mulder mimicked Skinner's surly tone before returning to his map, "I'll be calling back to check on you!"

Easing onto the rutted lane, Mulder navigated carefully avoiding axle busting potholes and low hanging tree limbs. A stand of ancient willows lined each side of the narrow road, their branches meeting in the middle to form a leafy canopy. The effect was lovely, yet claustrophobic as dusk rapidly descended. Mulder switched on the headlights as an added precaution.

Rounding a wide curve, Mulder caught his breath at his first glimpse of Willow House.

Tall, dark and foreboding, the cut stone exterior and slate roof gave the impression of invulnerability. Willow House reminded Mulder of a story book castle. He chuckled softly and hoped there were no dragons or trolls living in the moat.

As Mulder parked in the circle drive, he recalled the story he'd read about the ill-fated couple who had originally built Willow House...

1940...

Wilhelm Ruprecht, had spent his youth amassing a fortune. At the age of sixty, he took eighteen year old Lily DuBonnette as his bride. Wilhelm arranged for the construction of Willow House, while he and his lovely new wife toured the Continent for their honeymoon.

All went well at first. Lily was thrilled with her new status as lady of the house. She spent untold thousands of Wilhelm's hard earned dollars, furnishing her new home. She threw lavish parties and entertained her friends and family like royalty.

Eventually, Ruprecht returned to his offices, neglecting his young bride.

Lily became bored, as any eighteen year old girl would, and soon began looking for new forms of stimulation.

Tom Dressen, Ruprecht's handsome young personal assistant, soon became Lily's newest past time. The young couple shared many stolen moments together, under the drooping willows. As their passion grew, they became less cautious.

Ruprecht became suspicious. He lied to his unsuspecting young wife, telling Lily he was leaving town on business and would be gone the better part of a week.

Lily wasted no time contacting Tom Dressen with the good news.

On the day of his departure, Wilhelm loaded baggage into his car, promising Lily he would return as soon as possible. He then drove away. Instead of leaving town, as he'd told Lily, Ruprecht circled back and parked the car in a remote wooded area behind Willow House. He waited in silence to discover if his wife and trusted employee were betraying him.

Near dusk, Tom Dressen arrived at Willow House. He met Lily and embraced her passionately beneath the spreading limbs of a willow tree.

This scene drove a well concealed Wilhelm Ruprecht into a jealous rage. Reaching into the glove compartment, Ruprecht removed the hunting knife he'd hidden there, before leaving on his fictional business trip. He waited impatiently for the unsuspecting couple to steal unnoticed, back into Willow House, before following them silently.

Stalking softly up the grand staircase, Ruprecht burst into the master bedroom to find his Lily sprawled naked on the bed, laughing at her lover. Tom was trying to take off his trousers and had managed to become tangled in one pant leg.

Howling out his grief and rage, Wilhelm flung himself onto the bed, plunging the knife deep into his wife's breast, killing her instantly. Wheeling on Dressen, Ruprecht heaped accusations and abuse on his formerly favored employee. Holding the knife against the younger man's throat, Wilhelm informed the terrified Dressen that he would suffer a slow and painful death, as punishment for his betrayal.

Using the bloody knife to rip strips of material from his wife's discarded dress, Ruprecht used the cloth to tie Dressen's wrists and ankles to the bedposts, so the horrified man was bound securely beside the rapidly cooling body of his slain lover.

Bolting the bedroom door, Wilhelm stripped off his suit jacket, and picked up the hunting knife. Without remorse, he proceeded to skin the helpless young man alive. Despite the anguished howls and pleas for mercy, Ruprecht completed his grisly task, throwing the bloody knife onto the bed. Not even bothering to wipe the gore from his hands and face, Ruprecht exited Willow House for the last time and drove straight to the county sheriff's office to confessed his crime. He was taken into custody and charged with two counts of murder.

When the deputies arrived at Willow House, they discovered Lily's body amidst the carnage, but no sign of Tom Dressen or the hunting knife. Wilhelm was convicted and hanged for the murder of his wife, Lilly DuBonnette Ruprecht. Without Dressen's body, there could be no second murder charge.

Since that fateful night, sixty years ago, Willow House has been occupied solely by the spectre of Skinned Tom. Not even the bravest explorers have lasted longer than a single night.

Mulder shuddered, as the sun sank lower into the horizon. He removed his satchel from the trunk, as quietly as possible. He could not shake the feeling that the house was watching him.

Giving the building a wide berth, Mulder followed the path around to the back lawn. The gardens were woefully overgrown, but its former beauty was easily imagined.

Spying movement to his left, Mulder whirled around to find absolutely nothing. Laughing at himself, for letting the ghost story spook him, Mulder forced open the servants door and entered Willow House.

End of Part 1

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