Your dad did find someone that's obsessed with Lovecraft enough to give you substantial information regarding him and Purgatory, so that's where you two decided to head to first. There is still no baby, but you believe that she is going to come early. The only reason why you didn't say anything about this to Dean is that he clearly chose who his first priority is. You'd rather focus on the case right now instead of having your child. Your water didn't break yet, so you're in the clear.
The Lovecraft fan is named Judah, and he has everything you need to know in his basement. Not weirdly enough, he lives with his mother. No judgment, but it's all stereotypes at this point. Judah has pictures, articles, excerpts from books, journal entries, and everything else in between about Lovecraft. You two are posing as journalists to do a piece on Lovecraft which is why this guy is so eager to tell you this information. You look at your dad knowingly when you enter the basement.
"You know, uh, horror–lowbrow. It put us in the ghetto, fine, but H.P. Lovecraft is literature. I mean he should be taught in schools. He's up there with Dickens and Dean R. Koontz... seriously," Judah gushes.
"Well that's, that's definitely the angle I'm taking with our piece," your dad chuckles.
"Oh, okay. Okay. Sorry, you–please," he gestures for you two to sit.
You're already way ahead of him as you sat before he told you that you could.
"So, I hear you have a large collection of Lovecraft's private letters," you start.
"Yeah, the world's largest!"
"Wow, you must be catnip to the ladies," your dad jokes.
"I'm in a long-term online relationship, so–"
"We'd like to ask you about Lovecraft's last years," you cut him off so you can get to the point. "Specifically, anything that might've gone down around March 10th, 1937."
"Are...? Okay. Are you working on this with the other guy?" he asks, confused.
"What other guy?" you ask.
"Yeah, uh, you know, trench coat, looks like Columbo, and talks like Rain Man?"
Of fucking course Castiel would be here before you are. You're getting sick and tired of this angel getting in your business. You were completely serious about him leaving you the hell alone, and if you ever run into him again, you're going to beat his ass for what he did.
"Right. We're... competitors. Rival magazines," your dad saves your ass.
"Oh, okay," Judah laughs. "Okay, well um, I'll tell you what I told him. Howard had a dinner party on March 10th."
"Party? How many friends at this party?"
"Well, six. If by 'friends' you mean co-worshippers in a black magic cult. They were getting together that night to perform a ritual. Something big."
"Define big," you say.
"Not much. Just open a door into another dimension," he shrugs.
"Why would they do that?"
"To see what's out there, you know. Maybe it's friendly."
"It's never friendly," you smile sickly sweetly.
Judah gives you a look, but your dad moves things along.
"She means, she imagines. So, did it work? The spell?"
"Well, uh, there was no mention of Cthulhu in the morning papers, so... actually, I do happen to have several letters detailing the dinner," Judah says and gets up to head over to his bookshelf where he rifles through some folders. "The worst thing that was reported was a hangover, so it's actually pretty interesting." He opens a file, but it's empty. He frowns and looks once again, but they are gone, and you know exactly who took it. "They were... I'm sorry, they were right–they were right here."
"Well, it's not like an invisible guy could just pop in and steal 'em, right?" your dad says and stands up.
It takes you a minute to stand up because you know he won't have anything more to give you.
"Right, right," he nods slowly.
"So, uh, I'll leave you to it, and, um, you call me if you find them?"
"Okay, hey. Thanks, thanks again for dropping by, huh?" Judah says as you two leave his house.
"So, what now?" you ask.
"We dig up everything we can on the guests that were there, I guess," your dad shrugs.
"Yeah, you can do that," you groan as you walk.
"Are you okay?"
"No, my back is killing me. All this added weight is just fucking up my back. My magic takes away most of the pain, but still."
"Well, we'll be quick about it."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When your dad said he'd be quick about it, then he wasn't lying. He did quick work in finding out who survived the dinner party, and luck would have it that a young boy was–at the time he was young. Now, he's eighty-three years old, but you bet he can remember every detail of the event. Now that you know who to talk to next, you quickly head to the car. While on the way, you call Sam to give him your news while hoping you're subtle when you ask about Dean and how he's doing.
"Lovecraft tried to jimmy a damn dimensional door. Idjit," your dad groans.
You're inside his car while parked on the side of the street so he can put Sam on speakerphone without the fear of someone overhearing.
"So, what happened?" he asks.
"Well, nothing much. Except, my dad dug, and every guest invited to the party is dead or disappeared inside a year," you reveal.
"Wow, um, so where are you off to now?"
"To have a chat with one of the guests."
"Wait, didn't you just say that everyone there died?"
"Yeah, everybody Lovecraft invited died. Seems the maid had a nine-year-old boy that was there."
"So, he'd be what, eighty-three years old now? Where is he?" Sam wonders.
"The same place he's been ever since the big night. Locked in a mental ward," you say.
"I see, um, well, keep me posted, yeah?"
"Okay, stay in touch," your dad nods. "How are things going there? You got a lead on Lisa and Ben?"
"Well, um, we're making a few inquiries. Slow going."
"How is Dean doing?"
"About how you'd expect," he sighs.
"Right," you nod sadly, and you're sure some of your sadness can be heard in your tone.
"How about you? No baby yet?"
"No, and she is giving me all sorts of back pain, so that's fun," you chuckle humorlessly.
"I'd say don't have her until we're done, but I'm not so sure when we're going to be done."
"Don't worry, you'll know when she's coming."
"Okay, stay safe."
"You too..." you trail off.
Your dad hangs up the phone, and you just sigh.
"What's going on in that head of yours?" your dad asks as he starts the car.
He heads off into the direction of the mental institution, which isn't that far according to the directions on Google Maps.
"It seems like Dean is more concerned about finding Ben and Lisa than being with me when his child is so close to being born. You don't think he's actually going to pick her, do you?"
"You already know my answer to that."
"Yeah, well, it just feels like Lisa is and always will be more important than me," you sigh.
"He's an idiot if he doesn't see what's right in front of him."
"Yeah, he is," you whisper.
The rest of the car ride is spent in silence. Your dad gets to the mental institution fairly quickly, and you're escorted to see Westborough who is the man who witnessed the dinner party. He was nine years old at the time of the event, and you hope that he still remembers everything that happened.
"Hi, Westborough. I'm Y/N and this is Bobby. We're with a magazine that wanted to do a piece on Lovecraft and his dinner party. We hear you witnessed it," you introduce yourself.
"You sure you're not with that other reporter, in the coat? Liar, that one. Not who he says," the old man grumbles.
Your blood boils at the thought that Castiel was here. He has no business being here, and he's only digging himself deeper into his hole. Your dad sees how angry you are, so he decides to take over with the questions.
"No sir. Uh, I'm not affiliated with his paper. We just have a couple of questions about the dinner party you were at."
"Everyone's so fascinated. All they wanna know is about my night at the home of the great H.P. Lovecraft," he chuckles.
"If you don't mind."
"Well, you know the story. They did their spell and they all said it failed," he pauses. He looks around to make sure no one is listening in and leans closer to you and your dad. "Do you believe in monsters?"
"Yes," you both said at the same time.
"You know, you go saying that here, and they'll lock you in here for the rest of your life."
"Whatever you saw, you tell us and we'll buy it straight."
"The spell worked. A door opened and something came through. B-but it was invisible, so no one knew, except me."
"How did you know then?" you ask.
"Because it took my mother. It went into her. She wasn't the same. She even smelled different. Then, she disappeared. And surprise, surprise, one by one, they all start dying."
"I'm sorry about your mom," you say gently with a kind smile.
You know a bit about mothers changing and dying right in front of you a little bit too much.
"You're the first person to ever say that. Hey, you wanna see a picture?"
"Sure," you nod.
He smiles widely at the thought of showing his mother off. He takes out a picture from his shirt pocket and hands it over to you. Your smile is lost when you recognize the person in the photo.
Eleanor Visyak, the woman who gave you the sword to kill the dragons.
"I'll be damned," you and your dad say at the same time.
He looks at you with a confused look, but you hand it back over to Westborough.
"Thank you, for your time. We really need to get going. I appreciate you telling us about your story," you smile.
"Of course," he nods.
You and your dad leave, and when you leave the mental institution, he's the first one to speak.
"You know who she is?"
"Yeah, she's the one who gave us the sword to kill the dragons. I can't believe she's from Purgatory," you hiss. "She seems so nice. The complete opposite of Eve! How do you know her?"
"Doesn't matter. We need to get to her before that angel does. I know where she might be. I have a feeling she is in hiding."