Merry Christmas everyone! Still typing like a tortoise, but I managed to get this done in good time. Enjoy!
Tighten the noose
"I think I found it."
"Finally." Dean shifted his chair until he was sitting next to his brother. "I was beginning to think this ghost was a figment of the imagination."
Sam moved his laptop around so Dean could look at the screen. "Two days before the first killing in the library, a man was found dead in a motel room, identity unknown. He hung himself from the ceiling fan. His description matches the missing professor."
"Great. So, professor dude is dead, he is haunting his old office. We burn the bones, ghost is gone. Easy as pie."
Sam looked at him from the corner of his eye. "Is it ever that simple?"
Dean sighed. "Well, there's a first time for everything. What's the problem?"
"Two problems actually. One, he didn't die in Palo Alto but in a small town two states over. And two, he was cremated."
"Nice," Dean pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. "In that case, something must be keeping him in that office."
"Something he's attached to," muttered Sam.
Dean turned around to look at him. "You know what this means right?"
Sam exhaled slowly. "We have to go back there."
"Yep. And your friend is likely to be there as well."
"He's not my friend." Sam's tone was sharp. His eyes didn't leave the computer screen, but Dean could imagine his expression. He bit his tongue. Keep your stupid mouth shut!
He cleared his throat. "We'll have to be careful. That ghost is pretty damn aggressive."
"I know," Sam hesitated. "It's strange though. When we were in there the ghost didn't show itself at all, but it was on Fielding pretty quickly."
"Maybe it knows a dick when it sees one."
Dean picked up his jacket from the back of a chair. "Are you coming? Now is as good a time as any."
Sam carefully checked his gun before he tucked it onto the waistband of his jeans. With that PI somewhere around, he wasn't going anywhere without it.
He shook his head slightly. Right now it was time to focus on the ghost. Even if that guy was around, they could take him easily between the two of them. It was time to get his head back into the hunt.
He took his shotgun from the trunk and picked up a handful of salt rounds.
"Ready?" asked Dean quietly beside him.
"As I'll ever be."
Sam turned around as Dean closed the trunk. The building in front of him was so familiar. He knew every corridor, every stairway. Four years, he had spent as much time there as in his own bed. He had seen many libraries on the inside since, but none of them were quite like this one. It reminded him of so many things. Things that ripped a hole in his heart just thinking about them.
But right now, it was a hunt. No more, no less.
He scanned the dark street one last time. No sigh of the PI, or anyone else for that matter. Time to get started.
They quietly crossed the street to the rear entrance of the library. Taking the front door again would be a little too reckless. Sam made quick work of the lock, and together, they made their way inside.
Sam led the way through the maze of corridors, up the back stairway and to the second floor office. Everything was calm and quiet. The police tape had been replaced, but other than that everything looked the same as they had left it. Sam gripped his shotgun tightly and reached for the doorknob with his other hand. He slowly eased the door open and slipped inside, his brother following close behind. The office was dusty and still. The dull furniture looked untouched.
Without saying a word, Sam move to the cabinets in the back of the room, while Dean walked over to the desk. They had barely taken a step, when a familiar voice spoke near the door.
"I was hoping to find you here."
Sid held his gun tightly in his hand. The two Winchesters stared at him from the middle of the office. A flash of anger shot through Sam's eyes. Dean just looked at him with impatience. "Dude, do you have a death wish?" To double barreled shotguns pointed in his direction. Sid raised his own gun a little higher, the weapon heavy and familiar in his hand.
"Put the gun down smartass," said Dean calmly.
"I don't think so." Sid raised his arm and pointed the gun at Sam's forehead. "If you shoot me, I'll take your brother with me."
Dean muttered a curse under his breath. Sam just glared at him, his eyes livid. Those eyes were almost scarier than the shotguns.
"Put those down," Sid said firmly, his voice a lot more steady than he felt.
Sam was the first to move. He slowly lowered his shotgun to the ground, straightened up and took a step back. His legs brushed against the metal desk just behind him.
Immediately, the temperature in the room dropped. The air grew heavy and stale. Sid looked around in confusion. The brothers in front of him reacted almost simultaneously. Dean raised his shotgun and held it steady with both hands, his eyes darting around the office.
Sam stepped foreward to pick up his shotgun again, completely ignoring the gun that was still pointing at his face. Sid wanted to shout a warning, but before he had said a word, Sam froze. Then, he was yanked backwards. Before Sid realised what was happening, Sam was hoisted up from the ground by and unseen fore, deep welts forming around his neck.
"Sam!" without sparing Sid another glance, Dean turned and fired his shotgun to a point somewhere above his brother. Nothing happened. Sam struggled in the air, his legs kicking and his hands clawing at his neck.
Sid dropped is gun and backed away.
This is impossible...
He barely noticed Dean running frantically to the desk. All he could see was Sam, hanging from nothing, his face slowly turning blue.
It's not possible...
Dean was shouting furiously. Curses, insults and God only knew what else. He was doing... something, but Sid had no eyes for him. He only saw Sam, dangling in the air like a grotesue puppet, unable to breath.
My apologies… I couldn't resist.
