Voting Results for Pairings so far:

Dean/Cassie, 2 votes.

Destiel/Cassie (Dean loves both Cas and Cassie and it's returned), 1 vote

Dean/Castiel, 1 vote

Dean/Chuck, 1 vote

Dean/No one (Leave Dean a lonely and Miserable soul), 1 vote

Sastiel/Cassie (Basically Destiel/Cassie, but Sam is there instead), 1 vote

Sam/No one (Leave Sam a lonely soul), 1 vote

Cassie/Gabriel, 1 vote

Cassie/Adam, 1 vote

Cassie/No one (Leave Cassie as a lonely(?) soul)

Thank you for voting, and please continue to do so at any time.

Guest: Thank you for the review, it made me squeal in happiness. And about the same time I noticed your review there was also the new and improved chapter from my beta. So I hope you enjoy.


A young woman with black hair tied into a bun and formal wear pokes her head through Dean's door. "Mr. Smith? A Sam Wesson is here to see you."

"Send him in, Cassie," Dean says, nodding his head.

"Yes, sir." She closes the door behind her and smiles politely at Sam. "Mr. Wesson, Mr. Smith will see you now." Sam returns the smile warily and enters the room, Cassie at his heels.

"Cassie, please shut the door," Dean tells her.

"Yes, sir." She shuts the door behind her, but doesn't leave.

"Cassie?" Dean watches her.

"Yes?"

"What're you still doing in here?"

"Waiting for you two to start talking. I would like to hear what's going on with tech support, as well," she says seriously. Dean tilts his head in a silent affirmation and returns his attention to the man in front of him.

"Who the hell are you?" he asks Sam.

"I'm not sure I know," Sam answers, gripping his brown messenger bag tightly.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Sam Wesson. I started here three weeks ago."

"All right. You cornered me in the elevator talking about ghosts. And now..." Dean drifts off.

"Now what?" says Sam. Dean pauses.

"Now nothing. I, uh, so you started working here three weeks ago, huh?" Sam nods. "Yeah, me too." He then gestures to his bottled drink. "It's the Master Cleanse. You tried it? Phenomenal. Detoxes you like nobody's business."

"With all due respect, no one likes that stuff but you," says Cassie. Sam smirks slightly, but Dean ignores her and takes a long gulp of the disgusting liquid.

"When you were in that bathroom with Ian, did you see something?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. I don't know what I saw."

"Wait. Are you saying that- did you see a ghost?"

"I was freaking out. The guy penciled his damn neck."

"You did, didn't you? Okay, listen. What if these suicides aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something not natural?" suggests Sam excitedly.

"So, what, ghosts are real? And they're responsible for all the dead bodies around here? Is that what you're telling me?" Dean says dubiously.

"I know it sounds crazy. But yes. That's what I'm telling you."

"Uh-huh. Based on what?"

Sam looks around for an answer. "Instinct," he says firmly. Dean looks down, shaking his head, then looks back up.

"I've got the same instinct."

"Seriously? You know those dreams I was telling you about? I was dreaming about ghosts."

"Yeah."

"And then it turns out that there's a real ghost."

"So you're telling me that your dreams are special visions and you're some kind of psychic?" Dean says disbelievingly. Cassie smiles and chuckles, but it goes unnoticed.

"No. I mean, that would be nuts. I'm just saying something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So I've been digging around a little." Sam pulls several folded sheets of paper from his bag. "I think I found a connection between the two guys."

Sam passes over the papers and Dean examines them carefully.

"You broke into their email accounts?"

Sam coughs awkwardly. "I used some skills that I happen to have to satisfy my curiosity."

"Nice."

"Yeah. Okay. So it turns out Ian and Paul both got this same email telling them to report to HR, room fourteen forty-four."

"HR's on seven."

"Exactly," says Sam, inordinately pleased.

"Should we go check this out?" Dean asks.

"Like right now?"

"No. No, it's getting late. You're right."

"I am dying to check this out right now," admits Sam with a small grin.

"Right?"

"Great. Let's go." Cassie beams and opens the door.

"Uhuh. Cassie, you're staying here. If this the work of some ghost it would be dangerous for you to come along with us," Dean reprimands.

"It's more dangerous if I stay here alone," Cassie points out, putting extra emphasis on the last word so Dean would get the clue.

"Fine. You can come with." Dean rolls his eyes. Cassie all but cheers.


"Sam Wesson." Sam offers his hand to Cassie as they stand uncomfortably in the elevator.

"Cassie Smith." Cassie shakes it. Noticing his questioning look she adds, "Dean's wife."

"Cassie, you're not supposed to talk about that at work."

"So, how did you know that we weren't talking about tech support?" Sam asks, gripping the elevator's railing.

"Isn't hard to follow Dean's thought process. Sees the body of one guy, second one dies in front of him, then he calls you over. That doesn't seem like tech support to me."


The trio are coming down the corridor when they hear a man yelling and hurry to room 1444. Dean turns the handle, only to find it locked. Sam takes a step back and kicks the door open.

"Whoa," Dean comments. Whether he is talking about the barely lit room or Sam's apparent athletic ability is a mystery.

A shelf has fallen on the man in the room. Dean and Sam hurry over to lift it off him. As they struggle with the heavy object, an old man appears behind Dean and flings him into the wall. Then, he shoves Sam over, his fingers bursting with electricity. Cassie hastily kicks a wrench towards Dean. He gets up and swings at the old man with it. The unnamed man dissipates before the wrench even makes contact. The monitors shut off and everything stops shaking. Dean and Sam lift the shelves so Cassie can pull the man out from underneath.

"How'd you know how to do that?" Sam asks the couple.

"I have no idea," Dean answers, as Cassie just shrugs.


They're in an upper-class room that looks incredibly sophisticated and expensive. The three of them are tense and, for a long time, they don't speak, taking in the events that only just occurred. Dean drinks his Master Cleanse.

"Holy crap, dude," he says finally.

"Yeah. I could use a beer," Sam responds.

"Oh, sorry, man. I'm on the Cleanse. I got rid of all the carbs in the house."

"Here." Cassie tosses Sam a Samuel Adam's from the fridge. He catches it with ease.

"Where did that come from?" Dean watches the drink like it's a bomb.

"I hid some so I could still drink, of course," Cassie chuckles, taking one for herself. It opens with a loud fizzing noise.

"Hey. How the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?"

"I just scooted it towards Dean. Something's better than nothing after all." She shrugs.

"Crazy, right? And nice job kicking that door too. That was very Jet Li. What are you, like a black belt or something?"

"No. I have no clue how I did that. It's like... we've done this before," Sam states slowly.

"What do you mean, before? Like Shirley MacLaine before?" Dean replies.

"No. I- I just can't shake this feeling like I- like I don't belong here. You know? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle."

"I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way," Dean jokes. Cassie smiles as she takes a sip of her beer.

"No. Well, look, it's more than that. Like, I don't like my job. I don't like this town. I don't like my clothes. I don't like my own last name. I don't know how else to explain it, except that...it feels like I should be doing something else. There's just something in my blood. Like I was destined for something different. What about you? You ever feel that way?"

"I don't believe in destiny. I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though."

"All right, so, what do we do now?"

"We do what I do best, Sammy. Research."

"Okay. Did you just call me Sammy?"

"Did I?"

"I think you did," said Sam. "Yeah. Don't."

"Sorry."

"But it's so nice, Sammy," Cassie teases him, grinning. Sam, being the exemplar of maturity, sticks his tongue out at her, only furthering her amusement. Ignoring their exchange, Dean walks over to the corner desk with a laptop. Sam opens up his own laptop, Cassie peering over his shoulder with obvious interest.

"Oh, jackpot," Dean exclaims after several minutes.

"What've you got?" Sam asks.

"What do you have," Cassie corrects him automatically.

"I just found the best site ever. Real, actual ghost hunters," Dean announces. Sam and Cassie go over to see. "These guys are genius. Check it out."

"Instructional videos," Sam says with disbelief. Dean is looking at the Ghostfacers website and pulls up a video. Two men from the Ghostfacers franchise (Ed and Harry, according to the video's description) pop up, both dressed in white lab coats.

"We know why you're watching," Ed starts.

"You've got a problem."

"A ghost problem."

"Please stop with the twin speech," Cassie groans.

"A ghost-related problem. A ghost- it's like a ghost-adjacent pr- it's like a problem that's- and the ghost is-" Harry is cut off by Ed.

"Whatever. You've come to the right place. The only decent place, really, because the Ghostfacers know how to solve it."

"Period."

"Watch and learn."

"See, the first step in any supernatural fight-"

"Figure out what you're up against," they say in disturbing unison.

"That's obvious." Cassie rolls her eyes. Dean looks over at Sam. On Sam's laptop is an article about the death of Sandover's founder with a picture.

"That's him. That's the ghost," Dean says, agreeing with his wide.

"P. T. Sandover. Died 1916. Devoted his life to his work. No wife, no kids." Sam reads aloud.

The article text visible next to the picture reads: Office 1444 was considered to be the center of the company's operations, with Sandover himself overseeing all details of any construction project the company undertook. / Considered to be a difficult person to work for, P.T. Sandover had an exceptionally high standard of quality, often marching onto construction sites and halting all work until he personally inspected each aspect of the structure. Aiming for perfection is perhaps why the Sandover legacy is so impressive, dominating the industry with the scale and scope of its projects.

"Used to say he was the company, and his very blood pumped through the building," Sam adds.

"Wow, okay. So slight workaholic. Maybe he's still here, you know, watching over the company, even killing for it." Dean winces.

"Plus, turns out this isn't the first time people started killing themselves in the building. 1929."

"Yeah, but lots of guys jumped off lots of high rises that year."

"How many companies had seventeen suicides?" Cassie retorts.

"Phew. Okay, so P. T. Sandover, protector of the company. His ghost wakes up and becomes active during times of grave economic distress."

"Well, I mean, the worst time we've seen since the Great Depression-" Sam is cut off.

"Is now. Yeah, now sucks. My portfolio's in the sewer. I don't even wanna talk about it," Dean finishes.

"Your portfolio is fine."

"Easy for you to say, Winchester, you come from a rich family."

"I'm no longer a Winchester, remember, Smith?"

"So Sandover's helping the bottom line-" Sam decides to ignore the lover's quarrel.

"By zapping some model employees," Dean finishes for Sam again. Cassie is temporarily to comment on the twin speak once more, but decides against it.

"Yeah. I mean, Ian and Paul. It was like he turned them into different people."

"Perfect worker bees, exactly. So devoted to the company that they would commit hara-kiri if they failed it."

"One more interesting fact. The building wasn't always that high. Used to be fourteen floors. And the room where the ghost attacked, fourteen forty-four? Once upon a time, that was the old man's office." Dean and Sam return to watching the Ghostfacers video.

"Once you've got that thing in your sights," says Ed.

"You kill it."

"Using special ghost-hunting weapons."

"First, salt. It's like acid to ghosts."

"Burny acid."

"Not LSD."

"No. It's a bad trip for ghosts. Next up, iron."

"That's why the wrench worked," Sam realizes.

"Pure power in your hand."

"Dissipates ghosts instantly."

"Next little trick. We learned this from those useless douchebags-"

"That we hate."

"The Winchesters."

"Please, they learned everything from the Winchesters," Cassie rolled her eyes. "They're a couple of the best monster hunters."

"Family of yours, Cassie?" Dean glances at her.

"No. Just important for some reason."

Dean and Sam look at her oddly, wondering how she seemingly knows so much. They then exchange glances and both return their attention back to the video.

"Gun." The video continues.

"Shotgun shell. Pack it up with fresh rock salt."

"Very effective."

"Very effective."

"Winchesters still suck ass, though."

"Affirmative. Suckage major."

Dean packs two pokers in a duffel bag that contains a salt shaker and unidentifiable items.

"Where do we even get a gun?" he asks.

"Gun store?" suggests Sam.

"Isn't there like some kind of waiting period or something?"

"I think so."

"Well, how in the hell-"

"I don't know. Seems pretty impossible, honestly."

"Sweetie, I have some nearby guns hidden in case of an emergency," says Cassie, as if that's normal human behavior.

"Alright," Dean accepts skeptically. They continue the video.

"The aforementioned super-annoying Winchester douchenozzles also taught us this one other thing. You have to burn the remains."

"Okay, this next part gets a little gross. Sometimes you might have to dig up the body. Sorry."

"It's illegal in some states."

"All states," corrects Ed.

"Possibly all states."

"Sandover was cremated," Sam mentions, looking over the website on his own laptop.

"What? So what do we do now?" Dean asks the other two.

"Finish the video?"

"Now, if the deceased has been cremated-"

"Don't panic."

"Don't panic."

"Just gotta look for some other remains."

"A hair in a locket, maybe. Fingernails. Baby teeth."

"Milk teeth."

"Genetic material. You know what we're talking about."

"Go find it."

"Fight well, young lions."

"Godspeed."


The trio enter the elevator.

"Set your cell phones to walkie-talkie in case we get separated," Dean says. He has his phone out and Sam and Cassie get theirs from their respective pockets.

"How the hell are we gonna find some ancient speck of DNA in a skyscraper?" Sam asks.

"Well, that creepy storeroom used to be Sandover's office, right?" Dean presses button 14.


Dean, Sam, and Cassie look through the things stored in 1444. Dean goes behind some shelves while Sam rifles through the desk easily visible from the door.

"What the hell are you doing here?" A guard calls out.

Sam startles while the couple ducks out of sight.

"Nothing. I just-" Sam tries to defend himself.

"Come with me." The guard grabs Sam's arm and shuts the door behind them.

"And he tried to be a lawyer. Silly Winchester," Cassie scoffs and shakes her head.

Dean stares at her, bewildered. "What are you talking about?"

"I-I don't know," Cassie says, confused. She furrows her eyebrows before changing the subject. "Lets keep searching."


Dean and Cassie are looking at the Sandover history display when Sam comes in.

"Whoa. That's a lot of blood." Dean pulls his head back a little.

"Yeah, I know." Sam counters, his voice showing that he's still shaken.

"Right. So, uh, in there." Dean points to a glass case containing a pair of gloves.

"P. T. Sandover's gloves." Sam's eyes widen.

"Yeah, how much you wanna bet there's a little smidge of DNA in there? You know, like a fingernail clipping or a hair or two? Something," Dean says.

"So are you two ready or are we just going to stand here all day talking about your genius minds?" Cassie crosses her arms and taps her foot rhythmically, looking like the perfect epitome of an annoyed businesswoman.

"I have no idea," Dean answers.

"Me neither." Sam breathes in. They each take a poker and Sam takes a container of salt. "Go for it." He gestures to the case.

"Right." Dean smashes the glass. Immediately, the air turns cold and their breath starts to show. Sandover flickers into existence behind Dean and flings him into the wall, then Sam. His hands spark as he approaches Sam. Cassie runs forward, swings the poker, and Sandover dissipates. Dean gets up quickly.

"Oh. Nice."

Sandover appears behind Dean.

"Dean!" Cassie screams over shadowing Sam's own shout. Sam throws Dean his poker, which Dean catches. He turns and swings it through Sandover, who disappears again.

"Nice catch." Sam smiles.

"Right?" Dean smiles back, nervous laughter bubbling up in his throat.

Sam gets up and goes over to pick up the poker left on the floor. Seconds later, Sandover appears between Sam and Dean. Cassie stabs the ghost quickly, making it dissipate once again. He appears behind Dean, who turns around to get him; then behind the other two, who do the same; then between the three of them, and throws first Sam, then Dean, and lastly Cassie into opposite walls. His hands spark and he reaches for Dean. Falling against the wall, Sam catches sight of the gloves and grabs them. He fumbles with his lighter, then sets the gloves on fire. The moment the gloves begin to burn, flames appear out of nowhere and begin to make their way up Sanover's body. Sandover vanishes. Sam sighs in relief before dropping the gloves and stamping out the remaining flames with his foot.

"That was amazing." Sam breathes heavily, adrenaline pumping through him.

"Right? Right?" The grin on Dean's face won't fall and Cassie just laughs at them both.


Dean pulls a first-aid kit out of his desk and starts talking. "Man, I gotta tell you, I've never had so much fun in my life."

"Me neither," Sam responds and Cassie rolls her eyes, which she's been doing more and more frequently since marrying Dean.

"Was a hell of a workout too, wasn't it?" Dean says.

"We should keep doing this."

"I know." Dean looks through the kit and comes out with three gauze pads. He gives one to Sam and another to his wife.

"I mean it. There gotta be other ghosts out there. We could help a lot of people," Sam insists and Cassie refrains from correcting his grammar.

"Right, we'd be like the Ghostfacers."

"No, really. I mean, for real."

"What? Like, quit our jobs and hit the road?" scoffs Dean.

"Exactly."

"Sounds fun," says Cassie, perking up at the idea.

"How would we live?"

"Uh," Sam says intelligently.

"You gotta be kidding me. How would we get by? With stolen credit cards? Huh? Eating diner food drenched in saturated fats? Sharing a crap motel room every night?"

"You always forget about my family background," Cassie grumbles.

"That's all just details," Sam says, waving away Dean's concerns.

"Details are everything. You don't wanna go fighting ghosts without any health insurance."

"All right. Um. Confession."

"What?"

"Remember those dreams I told you about with the ghosts?"

"Yeah," says Dean. "So what?"

"I was fighting them."

"Okay."

"With you. We were these, like, hunters, and we were friends. More like brothers, really. I mean, what if that's who we really are? I mean, you saw us back there, working together. The ghost was scrambling people's brains. What if it scrambled ours?"

"That's insane."

"Is it? Think about it for just one second. What if we think this is our life, but it's not?"

"Hey, man, the ghost is dead and we're still standing. I mean, I'm sorry, but-"

"Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be."

"No. I'm Dean Smith, okay? Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, my sister's name is Jo, and my wife is Cassie." He instinctively wraps one arm around her waist and pulls her closer to him. Cassie takes a long, shaky breath.

"When was the last time you talked to your family? To any of them?

"Okay, you're upset. You're upset, you're confused-"

"Yeah, 'cause I only moved here 'cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number and I got a damn animal hospital," exclaims Sam.

"Okay. What are you saying? Are you trying to say that my family isn't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on."

"All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. And I know- I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else. You're not just some corporate douchebag. This isn't you. I know you."

"Know me? You don't know me, pal. You should go," Dean says angrily. Frustrated, Sam does just that.


Dean is typing at his computer when Adler knocks at the door.

"Got a minute?" the older man asks, smiling widely.

"Sure, of course," Dean answers, surprised by the sudden visit. Adler comes in and shuts the door behind him. He takes a seat in the chair in front of Dean's desk.

"How are you feeling, Dean?"

"Uh, great."

"You look a little tired. Been working hard, I gather."

"Yeah," says Dean nervously.

"Ah, don't be modest. I hear everything. And I'm pleased with what I'm hearing. That's why it's important to me that you're happy." Adler pulls out a pen, grabs a piece of notepaper, and writes down a five-digit number. "How's that for a bonus?"

"That's very generous," Dean replies after looking at the paper.

"Purely selfish. Wanna make sure you're not going anywhere."

"Wow. Are you sure?"

"Positive. You are Sandover material, son. Real go-getter. Carving your own way."

"Well, thanks. I try."

"I see big things in your future. Maybe even senior VP, Eastern Great Lakes Division. Don't get me wrong, you'll have to work for it. Seven days a week, lunch at your desk, but in eight to ten short years, that could be you."

"Uh, well, thank you. Thank you, sir. It's, um... but..." Dean takes off his headset and passes the paper back. "I am giving my notice."

"This is a joke," says Adler, shock creeping into his eyes. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No. I've- I recently- uh, very recently realized that I have some other work I have to do. It's, uh, very important to me."

"Other work? Another company?"

"No, I- it's hard to explain. Um. It's just that this- this is- it's just- it's not who I'm supposed to be." Adler slowly grins as the words come out of Dean's mouth. "What?"

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Finally." Adler stands up and presses two fingers to Dean's forehead. Everything immediately gets dimmer, as though Dean just stepped into a black-and-white movie. Dean looks around at the office and at himself.

"What the hell? Why am I wearing a tie? My God, am I hungry." Adler laughs at Dean's rambling.

"Welcome back," the balding man greets him. Dean stands up in sudden realization.

"Wait. Did I- did I just get touched by- you're an angel, aren't you?"

"I'm Zachariah."

"Oh, great. That's all I need- another one of you guys."

"I'm hardly another one, Dean. I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here into one of these smelly things." Zachariah indicates his body. "But after the unfortunate situation with Uriel, I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row."

"I am not one of your ducks."

"Starting with your attitude."

"Oh, so, what? This was all some sort of a lesson? Is that what you're telling me? Wow. Very creative."

"You should see my decoupage," says Zachariah, returning the jest.

"Gross. No thank you." Dean recoils in disgust. "So, what? I'm just hallucinating all this? Is that it?"

"Not at all. Real place, real haunting. Just plunked you in the middle without the benefit of your memories."

"Just to shake things up? Hm? So you guys can have fun watching us run around like ass clowns in monkey suits?"

"To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're a hunter. Not because your dad made you, not because God called you back from hell, but because it is what you are. And you love it. You'll find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it. Dean, let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will stop it."

"Stop what? The apocalypse, huh? Lucifer? What? Be specific, man."

"You'll do everything you're destined to do. All of it. But I know, I know. You're not strong enough. You're scared. You got daddy issues. You can't do it. Right?"

Dean scowls. "Angel or not, I will stab you in your face."

"All I'm saying is it's how you look at it. Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things." Dean turns away from the angel. "Save people, maybe even the world. All the while you drive a classic car and fornicate with women. This isn't a curse. It's a gift. So for God's sakes, Dean, quit whining about it. Look around. There are plenty of fates worse than yours. So are you with me? You wanna go steam yourself another latte? Or are you ready to stand up and be who you really are?"


"So I guess all of those memories we had... The first time we met, our first date, the proposal, our wedding," Cassie lists, her hand in Dean's. They look out at the city from the balcony.

"Were fake, yeah." He nods, avoiding her gaze. It isn't necessary, as she is pointedly looking at the view.

"That means we're not in love, doesn't it?" Her voice shakes and she grips his hand harder, knowing that they would have to let go soon.

"I suppose it does." His own throat tight as he squeezes the words out. They let go and turn to each other. She falls into his arms and wails. He holds her tightly, but his heart contracts and he wishes for a wild moment of insanity, that he could hold her like that forever. She calms down, though, and pushes him away.

"This didn't happen on the show. Cas never appeared in this episode." She slowly pulls away and her face hardens. "You need to save Adam Milligan and his mother from ghouls. He's your half-brother, and the two ghouls want revenge for your father killing theirs The ghouls are in Windom, Minnesota."

"Cassie, wait." He grasps her hand. She turns to him, sadness in her beautiful blue eyes.

"Dean, I've been out for two weeks, Cas needs to be in complete control so my soul may rest and recharge," she tells him softly, not looking behind her to see the broken look on his face.

"I understand. I just wanted to say," he hesitates. "I'm sorry."

"So am I." She pulls her hand out and disappears, leaving him alone in the room.


Hello,

Since at least two people wanted Cassie and Dean I put into this chapter. Thank you, as always, totallyignorable for being the beta.

- Gabriel's Wings