"We should have brought our winter coats," Sam said as soon as they walked through the doors. There was a thin sheet of ice on the interior of the windows, hard drives, monitors and lights were sparking and flickering.
Dean signaled for Sam to case the room they were in as Dean headed down the hall. A desk lamp flew across the room, Sam spun, spotted the ghost of a child and fired, wails of pain erupted from the corners of the room. "Dean!"
"You hurt her!" A male ghost shrieked as it flung Sam into the wall.
Another shotgun blast echoed through the room and the male ghost faded, more screams assaulted their ears.
"Damn it! Sam?"
Sam pushed himself away from the wall, "I'm good. What the hell? They care about each other? This makes no sense."
"So, do we not shoot them now?"
Sam was about to answer as three more ghosts charged them, instincts took over. His finger squeezed the trigger three times, the ghosts vanished and they ran down the hall.
"Why is she here? Of all places?" Sam asked.
"Have no idea," Dean replied as he looked around the corner before they ran down the next hall, "She already knows tech and ghosts don't mix, that watch she had on proves that."
"It's getting warmer," Sam pointed out, "Hold up." They stopped in front of the directory on the wall. "Server room's down that way. She could be there. Maybe she's using the ghosts to clear people out while she hacks into something?"
Dean briefly lowered his shotgun in disgust, "Now that's just plain nuts. Using ghosts to help you steal crap?"
"Why not?" Sam's head tilted to the side as he ran the scenarios of how ghosts could be used for something like this, "It's actually pretty clever." They reached the server room door.
"Lovely. Door locked?"
"Needs a badge to swipe in. She could just teleport in there."
"Thanks for the reminder." Dean muttered.
Sam exhaled, his breath turned into fog, "Uh oh."
"You shot them! How dare you!" Cynthia popped up behind Dean. Sam watched as she concentrated and raised her hand, "You'll pay for that assholes!"
Dean spun around, aiming the butt of his shotgun at her head, something cold gripped his hand and every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire. He dropped to the floor, unable to speak or even move.
"Dean!" Sam fired his gun but the shell passed through empty air as Cynthia disappeared again. He yanked out a box of salt from his pocket and sketched a quick circle on the floor around he and Dean. Three spirits appeared in front of him, two women and a man, they started pacing around the circle. He reloaded and looked at them. "Let's try to talk this out. Who are you? Can you understand me? Can you speak?"
"Sam," Dean croaked, "Shoot them."
The ghosts reacted as one to Dean's words, ice coated the walls as anger and rage filled their faces.
"Shut up Dean, you're not helping." She knows that we shot them, she knew there was four of us at her hotel. She's connected to them somehow, controlling them even when she's not here. "Cynthia? I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I'm Sam, the guy on the ground is my brother Dean. We're sorry we hurt them but they attacked us first."
The smaller female ghost fixed him with an irritated glare, "We threw a lamp at you and slammed a door, that's hardly an attack. You had guns, remember?" The voice was oddly overlaid, Cynthia's snark filled anger didn't quite mesh with the ghost's hollow voice.
"Fair enough," Sam acquiesced, "But a friend called us after one of your ghosts hurt someone he knew and you've been scaring people for weeks.
"Ghosts? That's what they are to you?" The framed, cliché, motivational posters started rattling on the walls around them. "They are people! They talk to me, I help them, they help me. Can't you see that?"
Sam nudged Dean's leg with his foot and risked a quick glance down. Dean's leg pushed back against his foot and he raised his head enough for his green eyes to flick to the ghosts then back to Sam. Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam shook his head ever so slightly, Dean lowered his head and continued to act like he was still in pain, even though he wasn't.
"They were people Cynthia." Sam continued. "They're not anymore."
"Shut up!" All the lights in the hallway sparked and flickered at the same time and the badge reader on the door shorted out, "What?" Cynthia's voice faded for a moment and the ghost she was speaking through looked down the hall. The male ghost looked as if it was being forced to try to take a step forward but it couldn't cross the salt. "Salt? Why?" Cynthia's voice was back again. "Who are you?"
"People who know how to deal with ghosts," Sam replied. "They have limits. They should be at rest, not being controlled by you."
"Huh," The female ghost Cynthia was speaking through turned and pulled a picture off the wall, "They can't cross the salt but other things can."
"That works both ways," Sam said as he fired in rapid succession hitting all three ghosts, the lights in the hallways exploded. He tried the server room door again, it opened. "Dean! Go!"
"Got it." Dean flung himself into the room, Sam was right behind him, covering their moves with the shotgun. Sam slammed the door shut and poured another line of salt across the door then he tossed the box to Dean, "Here, fire exit."
"Done."
Sam pulled out his cell, No service. I hope one of these landlines still work. He was shocked when he heard a dial tone as he put the phone to his ear. He pulled up Oliver's number in his cell and dialed it.
"Hello."
"Hey, we have a problem here. She's linked to the ghosts somehow, they are tracking what's going on for her among other things. I want to get her out of this building and get her somewhere where the odds are more in our favor."
"Lance is getting edgy," Oliver replied. "Your time is almost up."
"We know." Thumping sounds started coming from the hallway door. "We're going to be bait."
Dean threw his arms up, "Wonderful."
"Call Lance, tell him to give us five more minutes, we'll clear the building. She's so pissed at us right now she won't care about the cops."
"Got it." Oliver answered, his voice calm, "Sure you know what you're doing?"
"No," Sam admitted, "But she's changed the rules. Just do it."
"Five minutes." The line hissed and went dead.
"This is your plan?" Dean asked.
"Got a better one?"
The door started to buckle inwards, "Not at the moment," Dean growled. They reloaded one last time, Dean stood by the fire exit, hand on the handle.
"Ready?" Sam asked.
"No, but we'll pretend I said yes."
Sam fired four rounds into the hall door, deafening shrieks swirled around them, Dean almost yanked the fire exit door off it's hinges when he opened it. They ran headlong down the hall firing at every ghost they saw. The shrieking lessened and fewer and fewer ghosts were appearing as they got closer to the back door.
"She running out of juice?" Dean asked.
"Maybe."
Just before the reached the door Cynthia appeared, blood running down her nose and her face contorted with pain, "You! I will kill you."
Dean raised his gun and pulled the trigger, there was a soft click and Cynthia winked. Sam fired, his gun wasn't empty, but she was already gone.
"Whatever she wanted she got," Sam said.
"What makes you think that?"
"That wink."
Dean pushed the door open, "Huh, you're probably right. How the hell are we going to stop her?"
"No idea," Sam admitted.
