Once again on his own, Dean decided it would be best to search upstairs while he was there before moving to the cellar. There were 2 other rooms on this floor. One adjacent to the room he just left and decorated in the same sparse motif as the other. The last room was larger, obviously the Master Bedroom, although there were no restrooms attached. Outhouses, yuck. Dean thought disgustedly. Man he was glad he didn't live in the dark ages like this place.

He was quite happy with a refrigerator, stove, electricity, running water and most importantly the microwave. With those essentials he could take care of his family easily and that suited him just fine. But now wasn't the time to dwell on the privileges of modern life, he had a ghost to gank.

The bed in the center was about the size of the queens in the hotel rooms they stayed in. Above it, on the wall was another crucifix. His and her dressers, a wardrobe, a wash basin, chair and a few small tables. Quickly, he rummaged through the contents of the wardrobe and dressers. Nothing he could find that would be the ghost's link.

On one of the dressers he did find another photograph. This time it was just Paul and Elizabeth Sanderson. Again, she was sitting in the chair with him standing behind. One hand resting on top of the chair back and the other partially tucked in his jacket pocket. Elizabeth looked a little better in this picture. Probably got sick later.

Pressing on, Dean made his way back down to the first floor. Everything still seemed quiet. Curious now, he went back to the mantel and picked up the first picture. Paul was in virtually an identical pose. Elizabeth looked thinner and tired. Dean was about to put it back down when he noticed something sticking out of the pocket next to Paul's hand. He had seen it in the picture upstairs but thought it was just a speck from the aged film processing. Still it wasn't clear enough for him to make out.

He replaced the picture and moved to the kitchen. This time he did stop to look for more salt. He found it in a ceramic jar on the counter. Hastily he poured more back into his canister and returned it to his pocket.

Now it seemed like there was only one place left for him to look. He walked back into the front room and glared at the door under the staircase. It was the only one he hadn't opened and he was pretty sure where it led; the cellar.

As soon as he opened the door he got a lung full of that musty, earthy scent that permeated dirt cellars. He wasn't looking forward to going down there. But he didn't have the luxury of walking away. Steeling himself, he went for it. The wood on the steps here didn't creak but they still didn't feel very sturdy.

He made it down. Squinting in the dark, it took several moments for Dean's eyes to adjust. There was only a scant amount of ambient light seeping through narrow dirt covered windows near the top of one wall. There was junk everywhere. And it wasn't very big to boot.

Absently he wondered how four bodies fit down here and what happened to the boys after they were discovered. But his pondering was cut short.

The cellar by nature was already a few degrees lower than the rest of the house but there was no mistaking the temperature drop. His misting breath confirmed what he already knew. The sound of a boot scuffing the earth alerted Dean to the danger behind him and he spun around bringing the shotgun up and fired. The ghost of Paul Sanderson blinked out right before the salt cloud hit him. And then blinked back in.

"Damn it," Dean hissed under his breath. Preparing to take another shot, he never got the chance. Sanderson lunged for the boy and tossed him into the only brick wall of the basement. Dean hit hard and was no longer aware of the world when he fell to the ground.

Sanderson walked casually up to his unconscious prisoner and crouched down. "You will pay for what you have done."

-SPN-

We are officially half way done with this story and the Dean whumpage starts tomorrow.

As always, thank you to all those who have read, reviewed, faved and alerted this fic or myself. It really pumps up my muse!

Later,

~Ari :D