Chapter 1

Dean woke up in a cold sweat. He tried to regain his breath without waking Sam, running his hands nervously through his hair. Sam stirred in his bed, rolling over to face away from him, and Dean got up. He walked to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face. He just couldn't get her out of his mind. He wasn't often plagued by the cases they went on, he could usually push them from his mind and move onto the next one, but this one was sticking with him. He wiped his face off with the small towel that hung next to the door and sat down on the edge of the bath tub. He replayed that day in his mind, a routine haunting where all they had to do was locate the bones and burn them. Sam and Dean did just that, and the family living in the house was happy, everything was right again.

Then why was he feeling like everything was wrong? His heart began to beat faster and his breath became shallow. The air around him began to freeze, his breath coming out as a fog from his lips. He quickly got up and looked back into the room to check on Sam, his brother meant the world to him. Sam was awake, his breath visible in front of him.

"Dean?" Sam questioned but Dean shook his head. It was possible something followed them, but what? Dean scrambled to his bag grabbed the can of salt he kept there for just this occasion. Sam sat up in bed and surveyed the room, his skin crawling. Dean turned to his brother, in hopes to say something reassuring to him, but his words were stolen from him when he saw her floating in the corner of the room.

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, throwing salt in her direction. She backed further into the corner, but didn't float away.

"Dean I need your help," she said, her voice as light as her skin was. Dean tilted his head.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, stepping closer to her, the salt can stretched out in front of him.

"Please don't," she cried, holding her hands up to him. He placed the salt on the table and she relaxed a little. "I've been watching you, and I need your help. I promise I'm not up to anything, I just didn't know who would believe me." She said, her voice a little more commanding now. Dean looked back at his brother, and then back to her.

"What can you offer me? You're not even alive, why should I help you?" He asked, looking her over. She was beautiful, wearing a nice shirt and jeans. Her clothes looked wet, and Dean wondered if that is how she died so young. Her hair was darker than her skin, but he couldn't tell the color because of her greyish hue.
"I have nothing to offer you. I wouldn't know how to repay you should choose to help me. You'd be saving my sister, I'm already… dead." She said without missing a beat. If she was nervous she wasn't showing it. Her eyes shifted to the salt on the table and then back at Dean. Dean turned around and walked back to his bed and sat on the edge, placing his face in his hands.

"What do you need us to do?" Sam asked, and Dean's eyes shot up to meet his. Sammy was always the kind hearted one. Dean found the world too cruel for kindness.
"She's marrying the man who killed me. My father left us quite a bit of money, and when my husband murdered me he found out the money went to Emma. Now he's somehow talked Emma into marrying him." She said frantically. Sam looked overly interested in her story, his eyes trailing every move she made with her hands.

"You were murdered?" Dean asked, apprehension on his face. She floated to Sam's bed and sat down. Dean saw her legs bend but of course she hovered over the bed. Sam awkwardly sat up more in the bed and faced her, and Dean could see his brother through her silhouette.
"My husband's name is Greg Jennings. He's a business man from New York. He mainly purchases old businesses, revives them and resells them for profit, but 4 years ago his company tanked and we were left with nothing. " she said, her hands folded in her lap. Dean couldn't help but stare at her, only to meet his brother's eyes on the other side. He looked away and sat back on the bed, making himself comfortable before she continued.

"My father knew what he was like, I don't know how he knew… so once we started having money troubles he changed his will so that Emma got everything when he died, and Emma would make sure I got when I needed. I was in the process of leaving Greg, so my father wanted to make sure he couldn't take anything in the divorce should he pass before it settled. He was in poor health at the time, so I let him do what he wanted to make himself feel better, and I never told Greg the will had changed. I wish I had…" she said standing up from the bed and walking to the chair that stood in front of their beds. She stood there, her hands grasping the top of it as if she could actually feel it, but then her hands floated through it, like nothing was there.
"Two years ago he shot me up with heroine, to the point where I wasn't even sure I was even alive, and drove our car into the river. He of course escaped, and I didn't." she said crossing her legs in front of her, floating 3 feet off the ground. Dean blinked at her.
"How did he get with your sister?" he asked, not wanting to stare at her too long without a good reason.
"When he found out there was no money, he turned the act on again, pretending to be a grieving husband, needing condolence from my sister. Greg is charming, and he knows exactly what to say. Emma fell for it about a year ago, and they started dating. It wasn't until last week that he proposed to her… and she actually accepted." She said, she shook her head as if she still didn't believe it.

"Emma hated Greg as much as my father did. I guess when our father died she only had the lies he fed her to hold onto." She said, her body floating slightly to the left and the right as she hovered over the ground. Dean blinked hard and looked back at her, making sure she was real and not another dream.
"What do you want us to do? We don't get rid of live people, just dead ones." Dean said, his voice harsh and cutting. He didn't want to let on how much he longed to help her and how sad her story was to him. No woman should be treated that way, and nothing that beautiful should be floating in spirit form in his motel room.
"I need you to talk to Emma, I've tried to show myself to her but she just freaks out and won't listen to me. I would ask someone else but you were the only two boys I have ever come across who wouldn't go running from me yourselves. " she said as the air in the room began to go back to room temperature.

"When did you come across us?" Sam asked. Dean had almost forgotten he was in the room.

"You actually were called by my sister last year, Emma Dowle. She thought her house was haunted… by me." She replied looking over at Sam. Sam was always the caring one, Dean wished he had asked her that question. Dean got up and paced back and forth in front of the bed, feeling her cold gaze on him like a cool breeze. He stopped and looked at her, ran his hand through his hair again and sat down.

"We burned your bones, how are you still here?" Dean asked finally, giving up on finding a nice way to say it. She shrugged and looked over at Sam, his face deep in thought.

"Clara Jennings…" Sam said, and Clara smiled.

"You remember…" she said sweetly, and Sam smiled back. Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes. Of course he remembered, of course she thought it was sweet. He scoffed and looked over at his brother.

"How is she still here?" he asked him, his voice stern and raspy. Sam looked down in thought.

"There must be something keeping her here, maybe some of her hair or something." He said throwing his hands up in confusion. Dean lay back on the bed.

"We'll help you. But only because I don't want to be haunted by you and your sister should we turn you down. We're kind of in the middle of something so we'll have to fit you into our schedule. " He said, realizing he was in his boxers this whole time. He wasn't someone to feel bashful, but he fought the urge to cover his body. He looked back at her, a smile stretched across her face.

"Thank you, if there is any way I can repay you, I will. And don't worry about me getting in your way, I will let you do your thing." She said floating over to him. She held out her hand, and Dean tried to take it, her hand whisping into a mist in front of him. "I like to pretend I'm still alive…" she said crossing over to Sam's side of the bed and doing the same. Sam shook his hand in the air and looked over at his brother. "I should let you boys get some sleep. I'm sorry to have woken you." She said, and she dissipated.