"So," Bobby said with a pause as he took a swig of his whiskey. "Your saying this ghost sucked Sammy into the bed? Boy, Cas wasn't kidding was he.."

Dean shifted impatiently on his feet. This whole thing was getting shady every moment. And they still couldn't find Sam. Castiel was busy twisting a leaf till it crumbled into his hand. Blowing it away he sat down on the entrance bench. Dean chuckled then switched the conversation back to Bobby.

"Look, can you do some research for us. I mean I would but…"

Bobby cut him of with a snicker. "Yeah, I know I know. You usually have Sam do the searching. I can try. Where are you guys again?"

Looking around he scratched his neck. "We're outside San Jose, California. But, I think the towns called Los Altos."

Rolling to his computer, Bobby began to type up google search. It wasn't long before he had something for Dean to work with.

"I got something alright. It's a newspaper report dating back to the 1800's. It says that where the motel was built that there was a plot of land cover in….quick sand?"

That sounded odd even to Dean. "But its California. How would they have quick sand. Besides you can't build a motel on a quick sand patch, can you?

"Says here they filled it up with cemented gravel or something. Im not sure how, all I know is that the information its giving me is telling me someone by the name of Peter Fiddler died on that plot of land. One day he just, got sucked in. He didn't see the quick sand pit until to late. Poor kid. They could never find his body. It was buried to deep underground. Must still be there, under all that cement graveling they put…" Sighing Bobby closed his laptop with a click. "Boy, how are you going to burn the body if you can't reach it?"

Bobby was right. He and Sam had faced a problem like this one before. At the moment Dean didn't have a damn clue.

"Well me and Cas will figure something out. First, Im going to find Sam. God knows what that bastard ghost is doing…" Groaning he looked to Castiel who was staring at the clouds with silence. Ever sence Cas had lost his grace and gone humanoid on him Dean was always worrying about him. Scared he would turn into future Cas, or get himself killed because he still thinks he can take on anything that has twice the damaging power as him.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else we can use against this ghost. Like little details?"

Bobby got up from his chair, went to the fridge, and popped open a beer bottle. "Well, it did also say his parents where ministers of a church that was runned actually on the location. Not sure if that helps. Im sure he was raised to believe Godly things. Christians where pretty strict in the 18th century. The whole punishment thing if you defy Gods word crap.." Taking a swig of his beer he waited for Deans response.

"Well, I'll think of something…." Trailing off Dean noticed a door near the front desk that looked blocked off from entering. "Hey, Bobby, I got to go…" With that he closed the cell quickly and paced over to Castiel.

"So, any useful information from Bobby?" Cas asked with a gravelly voice.

"That the kids named Peter Fiddler , and his parents were into some heavy Christianity." Slipping his cell back into his green military navy jacket Dean looked back to the blocked off room. "Come on, I might have an idea where Sammy is."

Breaknecking across the parking lot Dean made his way to the entrance doors. He peered over to Kammy, who at the moment was smoking it out near her car silently, making sure the coast was clear. Her back was turned on both him and Castiel, so he made a dash for the obstructed doorway.

"I think this was part of the old church.." Dean said running his hand over the aged wood.

Putting down his duffle bag he pulled out a crow bar and began to rip out dry wall and boards. Grunting between jerks of material Dean threw the crow bar to the ground, making a clang on the motel floor. Tugging on the worn down handle it stuck from rust, which resulted in Dean kicking in the door way. Pieces of debrie went flying into the cold mildew smelling space. Coughing and waving his hand in front of his face to block out dust Dean slowly walked down the steps, every movement making a rasp. Castiel followed behind, squinting for any indication of Sam. Making it to the bottom they both were cautious of their surroundings. Dean proceeded to take out his heater loaded with salt.

"Sam." He muttered. "Sammy, where are you?"

There was a unanticipated coughing sound from the very quarter of the room.

"Dean?" Said a voice very horsely. "Dean, is that you?"

Rushing over to what looked like a blocked off area of the basement Dean peered through the gaps of rotting wood. A small door was connected at the left side. Trying to jiggle the handle it wouldn't budge.

"Sammy? Oh thank god your alright. Are you hurt?"

Sam coughed and sat up, rubbing his bruised head. "No, Im alright. Is Castiel with you?"

"Yeah. We're gonna get you outta here okay, Sam."

Trying to fracture any timber he could he heard Castiel yell behind him.

"Dean! Look out!"

Looking around sharply Dean spotted the ghost, staring angrily close to him. Punching him backwards with invisible force Dean slammed into the wall with a thud, passing out on impact. All he could hear was Sam's worried voice shouting his name.

"Dean!"