Chapter 22

Dean hadn't thought much about what killed Richard Gleason. In all the chaos of the last few days, that particular detail lacked importance. Sheriff Carlisle disagreed and it was the first thing he questioned Mark Foster about.

Foster admitted that his employer had suffered a heart attack two years earlier. He had left specific instructions on what to do in the event of his death and Foster had followed them.

No doctor or ambulance was called and Foster enlisted George Bentley's help to move Gleason to the guest house. They had laid him out on a bed and covered him in plastic, sealed the house up and blackened the windows. It was like a mausoleum except not at all like that.

Sheriff Carlisle refused to let Dean and Bobby on the property alone but he wanted no part of taking care of Gleason's body and ghost, so he stayed in the main house while they worked.

The guards, who worked at the estate, including Bentley, had been rounded up by the sheriff. The property was an active crime scene so, the grounds were empty when Dean and Bobby wrapped up the mostly whole body in plastic, carried it behind the guest house and salted it.

Gleason's spirit roared up with a vengeance but Dean was ready for him. He shot him fast with salt rounds while Bobby tossed a match on the decaying corpse. Gleason screamed out in rage as he burned. Dean shuddered at the creepiness of the whole thing.

Once the burn ended, Bobby accompanied the sheriff back to the jail. He wanted to know how Gleason's spirit remained steadfastly attached to Mark Foster. Dean headed to the hospital where Ellen waited with Sam.

Ellen had to catch a flight home but she agreed to stay until he arrived before leaving town.

Dean waved at the elderly volunteer as he passed her desk. Having Sam back and safe, having Gleason dealt with and knowing that Foster and his cronies were in jail had put him in a good mood.

As Dean entered Sam's room, he noted that Sam didn't look much better than the day before. He was still too pale. His eyes stayed at narrow slits when he gave a weak wave at Dean. Ellen, who was sitting beside the bed, turned to see him.

"Has Gleason been dispatched?" she asked.

"Nothing left but a crispy side dish," Dean answered.

"Good," Sam said then cleared his throat and said it again.

"You look better," Dean lied.

"Still drugged to hell," Sam said.

"The sheriff arrested your doctor. Foster bribed him to keep you under wraps."

"Figures," Sam said. He opened his eyes a little bit wider then snapped them closed.

"Still sensitive to light?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Somebody said it'd clear up in another day or so. Said the swelling in my legs was going down too."

"Any guesses on when they might spring you?"

"Tomorrow," Sam said, firmly. "You're getting me out of here tomorrow."

Ellen raised her eyebrows and looked at Dean.

"We'll see, Sammy. Gotta go with the doctor on this."

"Don't start. I want out of here."

"Okay," Ellen interrupted. "I have a plane to catch."

Dean knew she still had a headache from the accident but she waved off any offers of help getting to the airport. He thanked her again for coming knowing that he and Bobby would still be in jail without her. He didn't want to think about where Sam would be if that was the case.

She kissed Sam on the forehead and hugged Dean. "Make sure you boys come to the Roadhouse and check in, all right?"

"We'll do it," Dean assured her.

After Ellen left, Dean settled into the chair she'd been using. He sprawled out with a relaxed sigh. Sam hadn't opened his eyes again and Dean wondered if he'd fallen asleep.

Dean startled when Sam spoke. "I mean it, Dean. Tomorrow."

"Sam, you're beat to hell. If they want to keep you…"

"No."

"What's the hurry? Bobby's house isn't going anywhere."

"I don't want to be here. Not here, not in this town."

"You're kind of surly."

"Surly? Really? Just get me out of here. You're usually the first one hitting the door so what's the problem?"

"I'm just saying…"

"No, I mean it. I'll get myself out if I have to."

"Jeez, dude, take it down a notch, will ya? Fine, tomorrow, it is. I just don't know why you're in such a hurry."

As the conversation progressed, Sam had lurched more and more forward until he was hovering a couple of inches above the pillow. He still kept his eyes mostly closed but the agitation bled through with every word. Once Dean agreed, he settled back, deflating like someone punctured his tire.

Dean let him sink into himself. For now, Sam needed rest and calm. Once they got on the road, Dean planned to find out what was going on with his brother. He worried that Sam blamed him for the spectacularly failed rescue at the estate. From finding Sam and then leaving him in the barn to getting captured by Foster's men, Dean had been less than useless. He wouldn't blame his brother for being pissed.

As Dean's mood plummeted with his thoughts, his cell rang.

"How's Sam doing?" Bobby asked.

"Cranky," Dean answered looking pointedly at his brother.

"Yeah, well, he's had a tough few days. And, uh, I hate to do this, but I need you back here at the sheriff's station."

"What's going on?"

Dean noticed Sam turning his head towards him. His eyes were still closed but he was listening.

"Foster finally spilled why Gleason's ghost was so attached to him. It's that necklace he's been wearing. The charms on it, they're yin and yang symbols, and apparently, Gleason's uncle had some kind of spell put on them that made it easier for his spirit to come back. When he died he passed it to Richard then Richard passed it to Foster."

"Yin and yang? That's all about duality and how opposites attract."

"No, not attract, it's how things that are supposed to be opposite are actually connected like light and dark, male and female…"

"Life and death," Dean said.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, agitation plain in his tone. Dean didn't answer his brother as he listened to Bobby.

"Right," Bobby continued. "But, here's the thing, if the necklace is the connection…"

"Then Gleason isn't gone."

"Neither of them is gone, Dean. They were both using the necklace to stay here."

Dean darted to his feet. "I'm on my way."

He disconnected and tucked the phone into his pocket.

"What happened?" Sam demanded.

"The connection between Foster and Gleason is the necklace Foster wears. It's got a spell on it and we think that both the Gleason's might still be here."

"That would," Sam hesitated. "That would explain some things. Two spirits. It would explain…"

Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I know. I think I saw both of them in here yesterday. I'm going to the police station to help Bobby burn it. Just sit tight, I'll be back."

"Dean, I should go. I should be there."

"Sorry, Sammy, not this time."

Dean left the room knowing he'd disappointed his brother but also knowing that he was right. Sam was half-blind and half-crippled and worse than that, he was the focus of the spirits' activities. There was no way he could help burn the necklace.

Chapter 23

A warm sun and soft breeze followed Dean as he drove back to the police station. He noticed the pleasant weather but just barely. Instead he was thinking about the signs he missed that pointed to a second spirit. When he burst into Sam's hospital room, he remembered thinking there were too many arms for one man but he hadn't taken a moment to figure out why. When Bobby shot the door open and he looked into Sam's room again he caught a glimpse of one apparition but a second later, the civilians were pointing out Richard Gleason. Those two things alone should have been enough to make him realize that Charles was still present.

Dean parked the car out front and jogged across the sidewalk, shotgun in hand and pistol at his back. He pulled open the front door ready to call out for Bobby when chaos erupted.

Dean ducked as a chair flew at him. He crouched down noting that a young woman and one of the deputies were huddled under the closest desk.

"Stay there," he said. The deputy nodded as he pulled the crying woman closer to him.

A sharp breeze blew the contents of a desktop across the room with a small lamp exploding as it hit the wall.

Dean looked around for the spirits knowing one or both had to be close. So far they were acting like poltergeists, invisible and destructive. He moved further into the room then jumped back, falling on his butt when a spirit appeared within inches of him. Dean recognized him from photos but this was his first real contact with Sam's original tormenter, Charlie Glass. He looked surprisingly like his nephew except for his severely shorn hair.

Dean brought the shotgun around but before he could fire Charlie disappeared.

Another desktop exploded on Dean's left and he felt the debris hit his side. Something stung his cheek but he kept moving.

"Bobby!" he yelled.

Instead of an answering call, an explosion sent Dean tumbling. The floor rumbled beneath him and he heard some screams that probably came from the woman under the desk. A heartbeat later there was no sound except his own breath. Dust and paper debris floated past him like a mini tornado.

"You all right?" Bobby's voice reached out through the dust and Dean looked up at him.

The older man held out a hand. Dean let himself get pulled off the floor.

"Yeah. You?"

Bobby coughed before he answered. "A few scrapes, maybe a sprained wrist, I guess, but, yeah, I'm good. Pretty sure Carlisle has a concussion."

"I thought you were waiting for me," Dean said though he wasn't angry.

"Spirits had a different idea. They seemed real intent on keeping me from burning that necklace."

"But, you got it done."

"Oh, yeah. Blew up the incinerator in the cellar, but, yeah, it's done."

"Can we come out now?" A voice asked.

Dean and Bobby turned to find the deputy poking his head above the desk.

"Sure thing, it's safe," Bobby answered.