Greetings,

This is the first bit of proper writing I've done in months, and it feels great to be back in the game! Constructive feedback is more than welcome! I hope that you enjoy my little romp!

PLEASE NOTE: At the time I started writing this little fic last night (July 3rd, 2015), I've only seen the first three episodes of season 10 and will not be watching the season in its entirety until it goes up on Netflix later in the year. So if anything in the first few chapters doesn't gel with the plot of the last season, that's why.

Also! The character of Meli is one of my own creation. She's a personal character (though she is not much like me) that I created when I was a kid and has stayed with me ever since. In this story, she meets the Winchesters and opens their eyes to a different way of doing things. If there is one thing about Supernatural that I have always taken issue with its the way it deals with human spirits, ghosts. I always felt it was harsh and forgot that they were people once, you know? Anyway, enjoy!

Weston, Florida

November, 2014

1: Tenement

"This is the place," Sam affirmed, peaking around his brother to get a look out the driver's side window at the building "it's smaller than I thought it'd be."

"Good," Dean replied shortly "less ground to cover. Let's deal with this thing and find a place to crash," he stifled a yawn and jammed the Impala into park "I'm whipped."

Sam hummed a sound of understanding as they climbed out into the pleasant November night. The drive down from Jacksonville had gotten underway with only five hours of sleep between them, and now they were both feeling the familiar effects of a sleepless road trip. They didn't take much from the trunk, Dean grabbed his shotgun and Sam slipped two small pistols into his waistband, along with a knife and a holy water flask. Hopefully unnecessary, but it made him feel better prepared.

Looking around at the small parking lot, Sam saw much of the same thing he'd been seeing since they'd passed over the Weston city limit; neatness. It had been— he didn't know how long— since he'd seen a town like this, clipped, polished and trimmed to perfection. Even this small tenement, not currently in operation, looked like it'd been given the once-over on a daily basis, he knew a place like this must be weirding Dean out in ways that monsters never had.

The first entrance they tired was the front door, an obvious choice. The door to the small front office and entry way didn't give, and the lock appeared to have been welded shut, a detail that piqued Sam's interest, I guess even suburbs like this can have a crime problem, he thought. How easy it was to forget that.

"Screw it," Dean said, nudging his brother's shoulder with the butt of his gun where he was kneeling to examine the lock "c'mon, let's try around back."

Sam covered Dean as they skirted around the side of the building that was angled away from the road and the glow of the street lamps. They padded over the dewy lawn keeping close to the wall until they came upon a side door. It looked heavy and the lock was unobstructed. Dean gave a nod that signaled he'd keep watch, and Sam pulled out his lock picks. He knew Dean's eyes would be tracing every silhouette from the nearby bushes to the trees at the water line of a pond at the other end of the lawn. When he was kneeling again, examining the key slot, Sam spotted something he wasn't expecting to see.

"Hey, Dean," he whispered "take a look at this."

Dean abandoned his survey of the lawn to put his face next to his brother's in order to see what he was pointing to. Narrow but deep scratches around the key hole and handle. Dean placed the pads of three fingers over the scratches to feel them and came away with the tiniest amount of a fine metallic powder which he showed to Sam.

"These are fresh, a couple of hours at most."

"You think another hunter came through here?"

"I doubt it, but keep your eyes peeled."

Sam tried the handle. He was honestly surprised when it gave under his hand and he was able to shove the door open. The hallway was dark but for the focused beams of their flashlights. Sam shone his light over the floor just in front of his feet where there was a bit of dirt tracked on the carpet, which upon closer inspection, he found was still slightly damp. Without needing to think about it, he drew one of the guns from his hip and let his big brother take the lead. He also switched on his EMF detector in his pocket. The device crackled a little, but it didn't seem to be picking up anything in particular. Hell, if the place had been recently occupied; which seemed likely given the state of the interior, the tiny spikes of energy could have been left over from the people who'd stayed here.

"Anything?" Dean asked, rejoining his brother after scoping out the rest of the corridor.

"Nothing much," Sam replied "but it looks like something's been through here recently." He nodded down to his hip where the lights of the EMF were blinking through his jeans.

"You think it could be whoever broke that lock?"

"I don't know." Sam looked down at the shell of the old Walkman perplexed "All living things give off EMF, but it would take at least a dozen people all packed together to produce even half the energy that a spirit can because it's not as potent."

"There's defiantly somethin' here," Dean said, looking over his shoulder "this place is giving me the creeps."

Sam smiled a small, satisfied smile, I knew it would. He followed Dean up to the second floor. He allowed himself to focus completely on the space in which he was standing, Sam had to admit that his brother was right, this place was definitely unsettling. He could feel eyes on him and, despite (or perhaps, because of) years of experience, he kept looking over his shoulder expecting to see someone following them up the carpeted hallways.

It wasn't until they reached the fourth and final floor of the tenement that the EMF detector picked up on something. It sputtered and whirred as Sam pulled it from his pocket and let it lead him. Dean followed close behind, shotgun at the ready. This routine was second nature to them both, and they fell into it with ease. Sam swept by each apartment door, clearing it and moving on, the whirring getting louder with every step. When they came upon a door numbered D11, the EMF detector was maxed out, screaming and spitting its strange alarm that no longer irritated Sam the way it once had.

Sam looked back to Dean, who checked his salt rounds instinctually before nodding to his brother. Sam through the door open and Dean entered, braced to fire. They stepped into the front room of one of the one bedroom apartments, cleared of all but the basic fixtures. In the corner, facing the wall, stood the figure of a man in a wrinkled button-up and slacks. He ginger hair was matted and filthy and there were obvious wounds on the exposed skin of his hands and neck. As he turned he fritzed and flickered, staring past the brothers with a mournful look in his hazel eyes.

"Well, whatta ya know" Dean mused.

At the sound of Dean's voice, the ginger haired man's gazed snapped to them and he let out a long, sorrowful cry— stepping towards them on shaking legs. Dean racked up a round and took aim, Sam took a reflexive step back.

"Wait!" a high voice cried "Don't shoot, please don't shoot!"

The ghost advanced on them and Dean took his shot, the salt round ripping through the air and exploding against the wall behind him— tearing into it. The man was flickering in and out at such lengthy intervals that the shot had not touched him.

"The hell—" Dean quickly lowered the barrel as a girl darted into the room and placed herself between it and the spirit.

"Shit!" the girl hissed and raised her hands out so her arms were parallel with the floor. She drew in a long breath and exhaled as the ghost tried to evaporate. As she let out her breath, something seemed to hold the man in place and he wailed again. The EMF device began to alarm again and Sam held it closer to the girl on a whim. Sure enough, it rang louder when it was pointed towards her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dean barked.

Whatever she was doing quickly burned out and the ginger man vanished, leaving this young girl breathless and shaky. Dean swore loudly.

"Oh, great, now look what you did!" she and Dean shouted at each other in near unison.

Sam stepped around his brother and put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from advancing on the girl. "What were you doing? He could have shot you."

"That would be just like a hunter," the girl snapped, an icy gleam in her pale blue eyes, "shoot first and ask questions later!"

"You shouldn't even be here, kid." Dean stated.

"No, you shouldn't be here, hunter. I keep having to chase you people out of town, all you do if get in my way."

Sam interrupted his brother before he could respond. "You're the one who broke the lock on the back door, aren't you?"

"Yeah, how else was I supposed to get in? You gonna call the cops?"

Sam prided himself on his ability to read people. He had always been the more social sibling but he could also get a sense of someone more easily (or more readily) than Dean could, and he was generally more diplomatic— both valuable traits in a field where not only did you have to deceive most everyone you met, but most of your colleagues were hot blooded renegades with advanced weaponry. And where, as the girl had said, the attitude was usually to ask questions later.

This girl, probably no more than eighteen years old, was posturing. She spat harsh words but her body language told a different story. She had her thumbs hooked in her pockets but her shoulders were hunched and her upper body looked like it was trying to turn in on itself.

"Ok," Sam said evenly "I'm Sam, this is my older brother Dean. And he's not going to shoot you!"

He gave Dean a withering look when he felt the barrel of the shotgun twitch against his leg.

"Meli" the girl said quietly.

"Hey, Meli." He saw her relax a little "what are you doing here?"

"And how do you know about hunters?" Dean chimed in, still carrying an edge in his voice.

"You said you keep turning hunters away from here, right? Do you mean this building?"

"No, I mean this town. For the past few months hunters keep turning up and getting in my way."

"And what is it that they're getting in the way of?" Sam asked.

"My job. You roll into town with your guns and exorcisms and treat these people like your prey." She gestured angrily to where the ginger haired man had been standing behind her.

"People?" Dean asked, accusatorily "You mean ghosts?"

"God, I swear I get the same response every time!"

"They're just ghosts, kid. If you don't deal with them they just lose control. Somebody could get hurt." Dean explained, not bothering to hide his growing anger at being c-blocked like this.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, dealing with them. But that doesn't mean destroying innocent people."

Again, Sam stopped his brother from saying something they'd all regret. "They're not always innocent, Meli."

"Not all of them, but you hunters are wrong, they can be helped. Just get out of here and let me get back to work." She looked around the room "Damn it, it took me weeks to draw him out" she muttered to herself.

"So what, you fancy yourself a hunter or something?" Dean mocked, obviously having not heard the disdain in Meli's voice.

"Hell no," she snapped "not in a million years!"

"Then what the hell?" he made his voice calm and leaned his gun against the nearest wall.

"Maybe we can help," Sam offered, ignoring Dean offended stare "who was that gh— man?"

Meli considered them for a long moment, something in her expression told Sam that what she really wanted to do was turn them away. She stared into Sam's earnest eyes and relented.

"You're not going to leave, are you?"

"Nope," Dean replied with an artificial, impish smile "so why not fill us in."

Meli groaned to herself and said "Fine, but not here. Someone will have heard that shot, the cops will be here any minute. You can come back with me and I'll explain, on one condition."

"And what's that?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"You give me a lift in the sick Chevy."