Abigail pulled up in front of the two story house with paint peeling and rotting boards on the porch. She parked under the cover of trees off to the side of the crescent drive. Armed with her revolver, flashlight, extra salt rounds, and trusty crowbar she ascended the steps. The front door swung open at the turn of the handle. Abby crept down the entry hall and peered into the family room, then kitchen, dining room, closets. Besides the house being fifty some years old, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. But there was something wrong here: teenagers hoping for a night of adventure had gone missing from this house too many times for it to simply be a coincidence.
As she was peering out a grimy window into the backyard full of overgrown hedges and weeds the roar of an engine was heard outside. She slipped up the stairs as quietly as a cat and proceeded to check the bedrooms. She needed to finish searching this house before whoever was outside discovered her. It would be fewer questions asked and fewer stories she had to weave. She didn't much like lying.
The front door opened with the same creak it did for her; she swept the first two rooms in the time it took the other party to reach the stairs. There was the sound of footsteps coming to the second level of the house. She ducked into the nearest doorway and hunched in the shadows. Whomever it was moved quietly but Abigail could tell it was a man from the heavy footfalls. They paused at the landing then turned right, moving away. She waited until they could not be heard anymore before standing up. Abigail needed to move fast and get out of here. The next room was empty as well. As she turned to leave the door clicked shut. The knob wouldn't turn.
A chill settled over the room and she stiffened. Whipping around she wielded the crowbar. A young woman in a white ankle-length nightgown was in the middle of the floor. She didn't appear threatening but Abigail wasn't taking any chances. "Help me," the woman rasped.
As she raised the crowbar and began advancing, the woman flickered. Suddenly she was standing directly before her. Abigail was thrown against the wall, her weapon clattering away. Her hands wrapped around the gun in her waistband and she pulled it out. Just as her finger was about to squeeze the trigger the door banged open. Dean froze as his green eyes met hers. "Abigail?"
She was completely caught off-guard. "Dean?"
"Watch out!" he yelled as the ghost used her distraction to wrap its hands around her throat. One shot was fired in the middle of the chest and the ghost disappeared. Dean stood there with smoking shotgun raised a moment longer. When she coughed he dropped to his knees beside Abby. Groaning she hoisted herself up, Dean's hand on her bicep.
"Dean, what are you doing here?"
"The same thing you appear to be doing."
"I'm on a case."
"So am I."
Sam then hurried into the room, also armed with a shotgun. He skidded to a halt at the sight of her. "Abigail?"
She rubbed her throat and faced both boys. "We have a lot to talk about."