Authors Note:

As much as I'd like to *and probably to the relief of the brothers*, I do not own Sam or Dean or any part of Supernatural :P Eric Kripke is the true genius behind this epic show!

But I do own Jadell Lang and Brittany XD This story is completed on my deviantART (DITTOFAN04) page, so I will do my best to upload it all here

This story is based in my hometown as well ;D

Summary: Sam and Dean travel to a small town in Ohio after learning about a brutal murder of a local girl. It seems like the tiny suburb holds a secret that the boys never expected to find out about.


Dean shivered as the temperature of the basement dropped a few degrees lower than it had already been. He knew that meant that a ghost or ghosts were nearby. But he was ready as he held up his sawed-off. If only he could see them.

"You know," Dean said, interrupting the eerie silence, addressing the spirit , "this is very unfair. I can't see the back of my hand, so how am I supposed to see you so I can put a round through your head?"

"You really think I'm that stupid, Dean?" a voice said coldly.

Was it it his imagination, or did the voice sound, childish?

"Well..." Dean chuckled, embarrassed.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but you and your brother aren't leaving. Not now, not ever."

"So I take it that your the one who had killed Brittany and Marco?" Dean shuddered, feeling colder now. His hands started to tremble. Firing a gun would be a lot more difficult now.

"Good detective work, Sherlock," The Voice said sarcastically, "took you long enough."

"Yeah, but there's only one question that remains: Who are you."

Dean heard a giggle behind him and instinctively turned around, his gun ready to fire.

"No one you would've expected. I was just another poor soul who died a horrible death. And I'm not talking about the plague." The Voice's tone sounded sad, but Dean knew they were faking it. "I fell into the elevator shaft when I was in here playing. They had forgotten to close the gate."

That confirmed Dean's thoughts about the ghost being a child. And they were female.

"You know playing in old, abandoned warehouses is never a good thing, little girl," Dean said. Goosebumps crawled up his arms. If it there was any light, he would have been able to see his breath.

"But I wanted to have fun."

"I also take it that you have some sort of control over the other spirits of this place."

"That's right. No one can resist a sweet little girl like me."

"I'm sure that was true at some point," Dean then felt a bit dizzy. He shook the feeling off. But now fatigue started getting to him.

"You don't look so good, Dean." The little girl's voice sounded closer this time, as if she was talking directly into his ear. "You look a little pale."

"Ah, nah. I'm peachy." Dean lied, trying not to let any weakness show. He had to keep the little girl distracted so he could figure out if there was any sort of light switch around. He was getting tired of hunting blindly. But in reality, he was just getting tired.

Dean felt his legs give out and he fell onto them. He lost his grip on his gun and it clattered to the ground.

"Dean," Sam called out to him through the darkness, "you okay?"

"Ungh...Sammy. Is it...cold in here? Or...is it just...me?" Dean replied wearily. His eyelids fluttered. The cold was making him drowsy.

"Dean, stay with me. You have to stay awake." Sam could detect the fatigue in Dean's voice.

"I'm trying," Dean moaned, "but this little girl is making things difficult!"

"And it's about to get worse," the little girl said with an obvious sneer.

Suddenly, the basement was filled with a dim yellow light as the light bulb above them flicked on. Now Dean could see who he had been talking to. A young girl of eight years in age with long, brown hair and brown eyes stood in front of him, wearing turn of the century clothing. A torn red ribbon hung in the back of her head. She would've been a beautiful child except for the fact that her skin was paper white and her eyes were fixed in dark, sunken sockets. She looked extremely gaunt as well.

The little girl wasn't alone either. On her right stood another ghost. It was an adult male. His skin was decaying off his bones, some of which could be seen. Dean figured he was a victim of the plague. The second figure on the girl's right was none other than the shadow figure. Wisps of black, smoke-like substance bellowed where its feet would have been.

"Seriously," Dean scoffed. "All that mojo, and you only summon up two spirits?"

"They get the job done," the little girl shrugged, "and I believe Mr. Shadow has some unfinished business with you."

"Leave him alone," Sam growled from where he sat. He was still recovering from Mr. Shadow's earlier attack.

The little girl turned her attention over to him. She smiled venomously. It was something unusual to be seen on a supposedly sweet, young girl.

"It's rude to interrupt, Sammy."

"It's Sam," he replied bitterly. Only Dean was allowed to call him by his childhood nickname.

"Aw, but 'Sammy' sounds cuter."

"What's your name, by the way?" Sam asked, trying to get her attention off of Dean, who looked as if he was about to pass out at any moment now. His pale skin had a bluish hue to it. Sam was afraid hypothermia was starting to kick in.

"Victoria," the little girl replied, now turning around to face Sam entirely. The other two spirits kept their sights set on Dean.

"Why are you doing this, Victoria?" Sam asked, slowly getting to his feet now. His head throbbed in pain, but he ignored it.

"Because I want to," Victoria replied simply. "because it's fun!"

"That's not a real reason. There has to be a motive."

"A motive?"

"Yeah. There has to be a reason why you killed a cheerleader and a police officer."

Victoria seemed to hesitate for an answer. She looked down at the ground and was silent. Sam quickly glanced over at Dean. He was getting weaker and weaker with every passing second. Sam had to do something fast. He could think of only one thing.

As Victoria continued to think, Sam raised his shotgun and shot her with two rock-salt bullets before turning and firing at the decaying ghost. Both screamed as they dissipated. The shadow figure seemed to vanish along with Victoria. Possibly because of it's connection to her.

Sam quickly rushed over to Dean, who was on the verge of unconsciousness.

"Dean, hey? Are you okay? Dean?" Sam shook him.

The color in Dean's face started to return. His shaking subsided and he no longer felt tired. He looked up at Sam then looked around quickly, almost making himself dizzy. Sam grabbed his shoulders to keep him from falling forward.

"Where are they?"

"Gone for now," Sam said, "we have to find Victoria's bones and dispose of them before she comes back. And something tells me she'll throw more than a temper tantrum when she does."

Dean nodded in agreement. Sam helped him to his feet, making sure he was able to stand before letting him go.

"So, how do we find a body in a century old building?"

"She died in the elevator," Sam recalled, "maybe her body is somewhere in or around there."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's start digging."

Dean grabbed a sledgehammer that had been used for the renovations upstairs. Dean was grateful that the workers had forgot down here when they were possibly thinking about renovating the area. Either that or they were scared out of their wits by Victoria and her pals.

"Tell me you brought the materials, 'cause I swear if you didn't, I'll make that large bump on your head even bigger." Dean held up the sledgehammer threateningly.

Sam chuckled as he took out the can of lighter fluid, some matches, and a tin of salt from the deep abyss inside of his jacket.

"Jesus Christ, Sammy. You think we could fit the Impala in there next?" Dean asked with disbelief.

"That's pushing it, Dean." Sam laughed.

They then headed back to the elevator. Dean immediately began pounding away at one of the black walls.

Sam headed over to the elevator and felt around the floor for a hidden trapdoor or a loose floorboard.

The EMF meter in Dean's jacket pocket started going off like crazy. He cursed loudly.

"Just what we need."

The dim light bulb started to flicker like crazy.

"Sammy, keep looking! I'll keep them busy!"

Before Sam could protest, Dean dropped the sledgehammer and took off, grabbing the shotgun he had dropped earlier.

He was swallowed up by the darkness as the lights went out once more.

Sam quickly lit a match to provide as much light as he could since his flashlight was dead.

He heard gunshots and Dean yelling. Sam picked up the pace.

At last, he felt a weak point in the floor, just as the match went out. He didn't bother lighting another one. He was down to just four matches now. He grabbed the sledgehammer and started breaking away at the rotting wood, coming across a layer of concrete that he also demolished. A horrible stench of rotting flesh and decay filled his nostrils.

"Finally." Sam lit another match. The dancing glow of the flame showed a deep hole before him. Sam couldn't see Victoria's body but he knew it was down there. He opened the tin of salt and dumped almost half of it down into the pit. Next he twisted off the cap of the lighter fluid can and poured some in.

"The body better be down there or Dean will kill me..." Sam thought queasily, knowing that it was a bad time to be having second thoughts. "If he doesn't get killed first."

Another round of gunfire and a pained scream startled Sam. The match went out again and he lit another one, just in time to come face to whatever with the shadow figure. It lunged at him, knocking him on his back. Sam dropped the match onto the ground along with the lighter fluid and salt. He watched in horror as some of the fluid spilled out into a large pool, heading directly for the match.

"Crap!" he gasped.

Sam then looked up as the shadow figure attacked again. But he rolled away to safety. He quickly grabbed another match and struck it across the concrete floor, igniting it.

"Say good-bye, ugly," Sam hissed to the shadow figure, dropping the match into the pit as it lunged again.

Within seconds, the pit erupted into flames as did the pool of lighter fluid as it made contact with the lit match.

Sam heard a banshee-like screech and jumped to his feet. He hurtled past the wall of flames that gradually increased in size as it swallowed at the old wood and materials that were strewn around the basement.

He ran to the area where Dean had been busy fighting Victoria and the decaying ghost. He stopped upon seeing the ghost of the little girl engulfed by flames. The decaying ghost that held Dean by the collar dropped him as he started dissipating quickly in a burst of red sparks and black smoke. Victoria was soon to follow.

Sam ran over to Dean, quickly pulling him to his feet, not noticing the stab wound in his shoulder.

Dean winced and groaned in pain.

"We have to get out of here, and fast." Sam panted, pulling his brother towards the stairs.

Dean noticed the raging inferno that now was as high as the ceiling.

"Dude! What did you do?"

"I uh...dropped the lighter fluid...and a match."

"Sam!"

"I didn't mean to!"

Sam hurried up the stairs and kicked open the door then ran back down to help his wounded brother up the steps.

They had barely made it outside before the entire first floor of the warehouse erupted into flames.

When they reached the car, Dean collapsed on the road on the driver's side.

"Dean!" Sam hurried over to him and that was when he noticed the stab wound. He mentally kicked himself for not seeing it before, which meant he had probably made it worse when he had grabbed him. He noticed blood streaks across the front of his shirt and slowly lifted it up, fearing what he would find. Two deep slash wounds across his abdomen and a large bruise on his chest confirmed his fears.

"We gotta get you to a hospital, Dean," Sam said nervously.

"Forget it, I'm not going to a freakin' hospital! I've had too much experiences with them! And some of them weren't good! Actually...none of them were good!" Dean moaned in pain, putting a hand on his stomach and shoulder. He cursed again. Sam knew he'd refuse to go to a hospital. He always did. He had a feeling Dean was starting to get Nosocomephobia.

Ear-shattering sirens pierced the night air. Flashing lights reflected off the sides of the nearby buildings.

"That's our cue to get the Hell out of Dodge. C'mon." Sam tried to be as careful as he could when he picked up Dean and slid him across the bench into the passenger side before sliding into the driver's side. He started the Impala and tore out of the town as fast as he could, the towering inferno where the warehouse once stood was the last thing he saw through the rear view mirror.