Sorry, but this chapter is a little long.


"No!" Amy screeched.

Dean was on the ground, writhing in pain as something Amy couldn't see tore through his stomach.

"Stop it!" Another man yelled as Dean rolled onto his stomach. He looked over at a blonde woman, who was smirking by the door. "Please!"

Dean screamed out in pain as something slashed through his back and shoulder. He reached for the leg of the table, trying to pull away.

"Dean!" Amy sank to the floor, watching helplessly as Dean was killed before her eyes.

"No!" the other man yelled again. "Stop it!"

Dean rolled over onto his back again. He had stopped screaming and was now coughing up a lot of blood.

"Stop it!"

Dean's eyes suddenly snapped open, causing Amy to jump back. She looked around at the other people in the room, only to discover that she was no longer in the same place. Everything was now a yellow-greenish color, and dozens of hooks hung around her.

"Somebody help me!" Dean's voice echoed out.

Amy gasped, turning her head to the side to spot Dean in the distance. He was hanging with one of the hooks in his shoulder and another was going through his side, his wrists and ankles were bound by shackles.

"Help!" Dean called out again. "Somebody!"

"Dean!" Amy cried out. "Hold on. I'm coming!" She tried to run up to him but found herself stuck in place. Panicking, she looked back up at Dean, who didn't even seem to notice she was there.

She couldn't reach him. She couldn't save him. Amy tried again, but her feet seemed to be cemented to the spot.

"Dean!" Amy called out again in a panic. "I can't move! I can't save you!"

Dean didn't acknowledge her or even seem to notice she was there.

"Dean!" Amy tried to make her voice louder. "Dean!"


March 20th, 2009 - Tolville, Ohio

"Dean!"

Amy sat up in a cold sweat with a jolt, her heart pounding in her chest. The nightmare seemed so real. She swung her feet over the side of her bed, trying to steady her uneven breathing.

A sudden knock on her door caused her to jump again. "Yeah?" she asked, her voice shaking unsteadily.

Her bedroom door opened slowly, and Dean appeared. "Hey, are you okay? You were yelling out my name in your sleep a lot."

Amy nodded. "Yeah. I, uh, I just had a nightmare."

"You wanna talk about it? It might help."

Amy shook her head. "No, that's okay."

Dean frowned. "Amy, listen, I know you haven't known me for that long, but I am your father. You know I'm always gonna be here if you need to talk about anything."

Amy sighed, glancing down at the floor. "I know," she muttered. She had been adopted by Dean Smith almost two years ago when she was seventeen. Despite Amy's protests that there were younger kids who wouldn't be old enough to move out less than a year after being adopted, Dean had adopted her anyway, much to her shock.

Dean sighed. "Okay, well, I gotta get to work." He planted a kiss on Amy's forehead. "Don't forget to do your schoolwork. I'll see you tonight when I get home."

Amy nodded. "See you soon, Dean."


Once Dean had left for work, Amy headed out into the kitchen and stuck a bagel in the toaster oven for breakfast. She dragged a chair over to the cupboard, standing on it to grab a plate that Dean had decided to put on the top shelf for some reason.

Amy finished making her breakfast and sat down on the black, leather couch, flipping through the TV channels to find something as she ate, before finally settling on Cartoon Network.

She spent the rest of the morning watching cartoons until she grew bored with them. By eleven-thirty, she had finished up all her online schoolwork and still had a few hours until Dean returned home.


Around lunchtime, Dean called.

Amy answered her phone. "Hey, Dean. What's up?"

"Just checking in," Dean informed her. "Everything going okay over there."

Amy nodded. "Yeah, everything's good. You working late again tonight?"

"Doesn't look like it, no. I should be home around five. You finish your schoolwork?"

"'Bout an hour ago."

"Alright, well, I gotta get back to work. I'll see you later."

"Bye, Dean." Amy hung up her phone, tossing it onto the couch. Dean had gotten a job as the director of sales and marketing three weeks ago at Sandover Bridge and Iron Incorporated. Since then, he had been working later, more than usual. Amy had gotten used to it, though. She liked having more time to herself at the house.


Dean returned home around seven-thirty and cooked them dinner.

"How was work?" Amy asked as she dug into her spaghetti.

"It was good. You do anything today?"

Amy shook her head. "Not really."

"Hmm." Dean put his fork down. "You find a job yet?"

Amy shook her head. "I've sent in applications to a lot of places, but no one has called yet."

"How would you like to come work at Sandover with me?"

Amy stared up at Dean in shock. "What?"

"I talked to my secretary today-" Dean began.

"Mrs. Powell?"

Dean nodded in confirmation. "She's looking for someone to help out around the office. I told her you were working a job, and she asked me to bring you in tomorrow."

"Really?" Amy asked. She smiled. "Thanks, Dean."

"Make sure you go to bed early tonight," Dean continued. "We gotta leave here at six-thirty."

Amy nodded. "Six-thirty," she repeated, "got it."


After dinner, Amy helped Dean do the dishes before heading upstairs. She took a quick shower before braiding her hair and slipping into a pair of sweatpants and a comfortable t-shirt for the night.

Around nine, Amy headed back downstairs. Dean was sitting at the kitchen table, doing work. She sat down in the chair across from him.

Dean glanced up at her. "Hey, kiddo," he greeted, "what's up?"

Amy opened her mouth to speak, only to immediately close it again and avert her eyes downward.

"Amy?" Dean asked. "What is it?"

Amy took a deep breath. "You were dying," she revealed, not looking up from the table.

There was a brief pause. "What?" Dean asked.

Amy looked up at her adoptive father. "That nightmare I had last night," she explained. "I dreamt you were being killed. You were on the floor, and there was something, I think it might have been invisible, it was tearing you to shreds."

Dean placed a hand on hers. Amy took another breath.

"There were two other people in the nightmare," she continued, "I didn't recognize them, though. One of them was a blonde woman wearing this black leather jacket, and the other person was this tall man with longish hair. He was yelling at the woman to stop, almost as if she was the one that was..." Amy trailed off. "And then everything changed and...and you were hanging by these hooks. You were calling out for help, and I tried to reach you but...but I couldn't...I couldn't move." She began sobbing, unable to say anything else.

Dean moved around the table, pulling her into a hug. "It was just a dream," he reminded her. "I'm still alive. I'm still here."

Amy wrapped her arms around Dean, hugging him back tightly. "It felt so real," she sobbed.

"It's okay," Dean assured her. "I got you. I'm not going anywhere."


A few minutes later, Amy had calmed down. She pulled away from Dean's hug.

"You okay?" he asked.

Amy nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Thanks, Dean."

"Anytime, kiddo."

Amy yawned. "I guess I better head to bed now."

Dean nodded in response. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I think so." Amy stood up from the table. "Night, Dean."

"Goodnight, Amy."


March 21th, 2009

The next morning, Dean woke her up at six, just like he said. Amy pulled on a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt. She ran a comb through her wavy hair before slipping on a pair of Converse and heading downstairs to meet Dean.

"Made you breakfast," Dean said, pushing a plate with toast and scrambled eggs towards her. "Eat up. We gotta leave in twenty minutes."

Amy sat down at the bar and quickly ate her breakfast.

"So, what exactly will I be doing there?" she asked as she dug into her food.

"Just helping out around the office, mostly." Dean began putting his folders into his bag. "You're just starting, so they'll start you off easy, and you can work your way up from there," he paused, looking up at Amy, "that is if you want to," he added.

Amy nodded. She placed her empty plate into the dishwasher, before grabbing her crossbody bag and phone.

"Ready to go?"

Amy nodded again. She swung the strap of her bag over her head and followed Dean downstairs and outside. They crossed the street towards Dean's silver Pontiac, and Amy climbed into the passenger seat. Dean got into the seat driver's seat, tossing his bag in the back, and pulled the car away from the curb.


It was a twenty-minute drive to Dean's workplace. Amy followed him into the elevator and up to the twenty-second floor. Dean led her down the hallway, passing by a Sandover Bridge and Iron history display on the wall, which Amy stopped to look at for a moment.

Dean continued leading her down the hall to room 2208. He unlocked the door, and they stepped inside. "You can put your stuff right there," he informed her, pointing to a small, black table in the corner of the room.

Amy put her bag on the table and turned back to Dean. "So, now what?"

"Mrs. Powell is on the twentieth floor," Dean informed her. "I'll lead you down there, but then you're on your own."

"Your secretary works two floors below you?" Amy questioned.

Dean shrugged. "I don't make the rules around here, kiddo."

"Okay," Amy said, deciding not to push the matter further.

Dean led Amy back to the elevator, pushing the button for the twentieth floor. A few seconds later, the doors reopened and Dean led her to an office.

"Lia?" Dean asked, knocking on the door as he pushed it open.

A woman was typing away on the computer at her desk when they entered. She looked up at Dean's voice and smiled. "Ah, Dean! Good to see you." The woman nodded towards Amy. "Is this her?"

Dean placed a hand on Amy's shoulder. "This is my daughter, Amy," he introduced. "Amy, this is my secretary, Lia Powell."

Amy extended her hand. "Nice to meet you," she said.

Mrs. Powell shook Amy's hand. "She's so polite," she told Dean.

Dean nodded in agreement. "I've gotta get back to my office. Lia, can you show Amy around? Get her started on whatever she can help out with?"

"I have the perfect job for her to do," Lia confirmed.

"Good." Dean turned to Amy. "Why don't you come up to my office around one, during lunch. You can tell me all about how your first day's going so far."

"Sounds good, Dean," Amy agreed.

"Alright, well, I'll leave you two to it. Have a good day, Amy."

Dean walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"I'll show you around the floor first," Mrs. Powell began. "Then I'll show you where you'll be working. Do you know how to work a printer and copier?"

Amy, who had been fiddling with the leaf of a fake, small, plant on the desk, nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Okay, good. Well, come on, then, let's introduce you to everyone."

Amy followed Mrs. Powell out of her office. She followed the woman around the floor, trying to remember where everything was. They had a break room with a microwave and vending machine a few doors down from Mrs. Powell's office

"And this is where our printer and copier is," Mrs. Powell said as she led Amy into a small room. Inside was a single, long table sitting against one of the walls, with five photos stacked on top, and a multifunction printer across from the door.

"We'll start you off with something easy for the day. I need about two hundred copies of each of those photos."

Amy nodded. "Okay."

"I'll check up on you in, say an hour?" Mrs. Powell asked. "See how you're doing in here and maybe get you started on something else. If you finish before then, come find me in my office."

"Sounds good," Amy said.

Mrs. Powell left Amy alone in the room. Amy grabbed one of the photos off the table and got to work.


Amy continued doing tasks for Mrs. Powell for the next few hours. At one p.m., she made her way up to Dean's office. She took the sandwich Dean had made for her out of the fridge and sat down in the chair next to his desk.

"How's your first day of work going, so far?" Dean asked as he took the lid off his salad.

Amy sighed. "Pretty good, I guess. Mrs. Powell has just been having me run around and make a ton of copies, so far."

"Well, it's only your first day," Dean reminded her. "I'm sure if you kept working, you'll start having more to do."

Amy nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Dean looked up as someone knocked on the door. "Ah, Mr. Adler," he said with a grin. "What can I do for you?"

Amy turned her head to see a balding man in a business suit standing in the doorway.

"I just thought I'd stop by," Mr. Adler began, "I heard your daughter had started working here today and I wanted to check in, see how things were going."

Dean smiled. "Yes, of course. Amy, this is my boss, Mr. Adler. Mr. Adler, this is my daughter, Amy."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Amy greeted.

"Likewise," Mr. Adler said. "If you're anything like your father, I know I can expect great things from you." He smiled at her.

Dean chuckled at that. "In the year and a half that I've known Amy, she's definitely proven to be a leader of sorts."

"Ah, yes, that's right. I almost forgot you had adopted her."

Dean nodded. "Almost two years ago, now."

Mr. Adler smiled. "Well, I will let you two get back to your lunch. Amy, it was nice to meet you."

Amy smiled but didn't respond. She kept that smile on her face as Mr. Adler walked out of the room, before turning it into a hard glare.

'Dick,' she thought. Amy frowned at herself. 'Where had that come from?' she wondered.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

Amy snapped out of her thoughts as she looked back up at Dean. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied.


After lunch, Amy went back downstairs and continued working.

Dean walked into Mrs. Powell's office around five-thirty. "Time to head home, kiddo."

Amy glanced up from the papers she was stapling. "Sure thing." She set the papers down. "See ya, Mrs. Powell."

Mrs. Powell gave her a small nod but didn't look up from her computer.

Dean handed Amy her bag as she joined him in the hallway. "Ready to go?"

Amy nodded. She followed Dean to the elevator and they got in with the other people already inside.


On the tenth floor, the doors opened back up and a man with a tech support shirt stepped inside. Dean looked at the man uncomfortably, trying to avoid looking at him. Amy did a double-take when she saw the man's face. Long brown hair that stopped halfway down his neck, hazel eyes. He looked exactly like the guy she had seen in her nightmare.

She didn't notice that she had been staring at the man until Dean nudged her.

"Don't stare," he muttered.

The elevator stopped on a floor and everyone except Amy, Dean, and the tech support guy got out.

"Dean?" Amy whispered, nudging her father.

"Not now, Amy," Dean said dismissively.

"Can I ask you a question?" the man asked Dean.

"Look, man, I told you, I'm not into the, uh-"

The man cut Dean off. "Oh, dude, come on, I'm not either. I just wanna ask you one question."

Dean looked around the elevator, trying to find an escape. He sighed. "Sure."

"What do you think about ghosts?" the man asked.

"Dean," Amy tried again.

"Amy, not now," Dean repeated. He looked back up at the man. "Ghosts?"

"Do you believe in them?" the man asked seriously.

Dean chuckled a little. "Uh, tell you the truth, I've never given it much thought."

"Vampires?" the man asked.

Dean looked down at Amy, who shrugged. "What? Why?"

"Because I've been having some weird dreams lately. You know what I mean?" the man continued.

"Speaking of weird dreams," Amy piped up again.

"Amy, seriously-" Dean groaned.

"Why don't you let her say what she wants to say," the man said, cutting Dean off.

Amy smiled. "Thanks, Sammy."

The man frowned. "How did you know my name?" he asked. "And did you just call me 'Sammy'?"

"I-I don't know," Amy said, frowning as well. "But, you were in my nightmare the other night."

"What?" Sam and Dean asked simultaneously.

"I had a nightmare the other night," Amy explained to Sam, "you were in it and another woman, as well."

"Was the woman wearing a black, leather jacket?" Sam asked.

Amy nodded. "She had blonde hair, too."

"Okay, okay," Dean cut in. He looked up at Sam. "Buddy, I'm gonna do you a public service and tell you that uh, you overshare."

The elevator dinged and Dean placed a hand on Amy's shoulder, leading her out of the elevator.


"We got company." Amy aimed a shotgun, firing a round through a ghost, dispelling it.

A man with long, sharp teeth lunged at Amy. She quickly held out a hand and a knife flew into it. She tossed the knife to Sam, who plunged it into the man's back.

A dark-haired man in a trenchcoat stood in an abandoned warehouse. Lightning flashed and a large pair of black wings silhouetted on the wall behind him.

Amy smiled as she pulled a man with short, brown hair into a hug. "Thanks," she muttered. "For everything."

Amy sat up with a jolt. Dean was knocking on the door again. "Get up!" he called out to her. "We gotta leave soon."


After getting dressed and eating breakfast, Dean drove them back to the office.

"What the-" Dean muttered as he pulled into the parking lot.

Police cars and an ambulance sat in front of the building.

"Did something happen?" Amy asked.

"I don't know. But stay close to me."

Amy followed Dean inside. People were standing in the main lobby, muttering to each other. Dean walked up to one of the workers.

"What's going on?"

"One of the tech support guys killed himself last night after everyone had left," the worker explained. "He put his head in the microwave and just..." the man trailed off.

"Oh God," Amy said.

Dean and Amy made their way up to the tenth floor. There was a large crowd of tech support workers and other workers in business suits. Dean pushed his way through the crowd, holding out a hand to stop Amy once he reached the front.

"Dean, what's going on?" Amy asked, standing on her toes to try and get a good look.

Dean pushed her back. "Stay back, Amy."

Through the crowd of people in front of her, Amy caught a glimpse of a black body bag being wheeled away.

Dean leaned towards another worker in a business suit. "Something about this seem not right to you?"

The man scoffed. "Uh, yeah, try the whole thing. I'm telling you, man, I'll never eat popcorn again."

Dean laughed nervously. "Yeah, right." He grabbed Amy's arm, dragging her into the elevator. "Sorry that you had to see that."

"I didn't see anything," Amy pointed out.

"Yeah, well, be glad you didn't."


Amy went back to work with Mrs. Powell for a few hours until lunchtime again. Around noon, she got back in the elevator and headed up to meet Dean.

She pushed the door to Dean's office open, only to find it empty. She stuck her head back out into the hallway. "Dean!"

No reply.

"Dean!" Amy called out again.

"Somebody help me!" Dean's panicked voice now rang out through the hallway.

Amy took off running, weaving the people standing in the hallway until she found herself in the bathroom. Dean was kneeling on the floor in front of one of the tech support workers.

The tech support guy was lying on the floor. Dean turned to her and Amy could see that his hands were covered in blood coming from a wound from a pen jammed in the worker's neck.

"Call the police," Dean instructed hoarsely.


Within minutes, the bathroom was filled with paramedics. Dean was talking to an officer as they wheeled the body away.

"No, I, I followed him into the bathroom," he explained, his voice shaking unsteadily. "He was, uh—he was standing there in front of the mirror, and then-" Dean trailed off as he noticed someone across the room.

Amy followed his gaze and spotted Sam staring back at Dean.

"Continue, sir," the officer nudged.

Dean cleared his throat. "And he stabbed himself in the neck," he finished shakily. "I'm sorry, that's, um..." he trailed off, shaking his head.


After the officer left, Amy followed Dean back to his office. He picked up a phone and dialed a number.

"What was that guy's name?" he asked. "From the elevator?"

Amy leaned against the wall. "Sam."

Dean nodded, turning his attention back to the phone. "I need to be connected with one of the guys from Tech Support, his name is Sam." There was a brief pause before Dean leaned forward in his chair. "I need to see you in my office. Now," he said sternly. He put the phone back on the receiver.

Amy sat down in one of the chairs behind Dean's desk as Dean took off the bloody shirt and pulled out a new one. "Why do you need to talk to that guy?"

"I don't know." Dean tossed the old shirt into his bag and pulled on the new one, buttoning it absentmindedly.

As Dean finished buttoning up his shirt, there was a knock at the door. Amy looked over to see a confused Sam standing in the doorway.

"Come on in," Dean instructed. "Shut the door."

Sam walked into the office, shutting the door behind him.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean demanded.

Sam sighed. "I'm not sure I know."

"How do you not know who you are?" Amy questioned.

Sam cleared his throat. "Sam Wesson," he said. "I started here three weeks ago."

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

"Now what?" Sam asked after a pause.

Dean shook his head. "Now nothing. I, uh...so you started working here three weeks ago, huh?" Sam nodded and Dean let out a breath. "Yeah, me too." He took a water bottle filled with an opaque liquid and opened the lid. "It's the Master Cleanse," he explained. "You tried it? Phenomenal. Detoxes you like nobody's business." He took a sip.

Dean began to look uncomfortable, which didn't go unnoticed by Sam. "When you were in that bathroom with Ian, did you see something?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know. I don't know what I saw," Dean replied nervously.

"Dean?" Amy asked. "What happened?"

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

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

"You did, didn't you?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded reluctantly.

"Okay, listen. What if these suicides aren't suicides?" Sam continued. "I mean, what if they're something not natural?"

'Damnit, Sam. You had one job,' Amy thought. She frowned. One job? What the hell did that mean?

"So, what, ghosts are real?" Dean asked, not noticing Amy's frown. "And they're responsible for all the dead bodies around here? Is that what you're telling me?"

"I know it sounds crazy," Sam said as he sat down in one of the chairs behind Dean's desk. "But yes. That's what I'm telling you."

Dean sat down at his computer. "Uh-huh. Based on what?"

Sam thought for a moment. "Instinct."

Dean looked down, shaking his head. Finally, he looked back up. "I've got the same instinct," he admitted.

"Me too," Amy added. "There's something about all of this that doesn't feel right. And I had another dream last night."

Sam looked at her. Seriously?" he asked. "What did you dream about?"

"More than one thing, actually. There was this ghost that I shot with a gun, causing it to disappear, I made a knife fly into my hand before tossing it to Sam, who stabbed this guy with long, fang-like teeth with it, uh, there was this guy in a trench coat with wings, and this other guy who I was hugging and thanking for something."

"What if these dreams aren't dreams?" Sam asked.

Dean looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"What if they're something more?" Sam continued. "Like memories. I mean, think about it, I dream about a ghost, 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 asked.

Sam scoffed. "No. I mean, that would be nuts." He chuckled. "I'm just saying something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So I've been digging around a little."

Sam pulled a couple of papers out of his bag. "I think I found a connection between the two guys," he explained.

Dean took the papers from Sam and studied them. "You broke into their email accounts?"

Sam shifted nervously in his seat. "I used some skills that I happen to have to satisfy my curiosity."

Amy let out a small laugh. "Nice."

Dean nodded in agreement.

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

Dean looked up from the papers in confusion. "HR's on seven."

Sam nodded. "Exactly."

"Why would they get emails telling them to go to the wrong room?" Amy asked.

"Maybe we should go check it out and see," Dean suggested.

"Like right now?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "No. No, it's getting late. You're right."

Sam looked at Dean expectantly. "I am dying to check this out right now," he finally said.

Dean smiled. "Right?"

Amy stood up. "Awesome! Let's go."

Dean looked up at her and shook his head. "No. You're not going."

Amy sat back down. "Dean!" she protested.

"No!" Dean snapped. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you. You're staying here."

"And I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you," Amy argued back. "You're the only family I have. If you die, I have nothing."

"Wait, she's your family?" Sam asked.

"She's my daughter," Dean explained quickly, "I adopted her." He turned back to Amy. "You're staying here and that's final."

Amy huffed. "Fine."

Dean nodded to Sam. "Let's get going."


Sam and Dean left Amy alone in the room, closing the door behind them. Amy paced around the room nervously, waiting for them to return.

'What the hell is going on around here?' she wondered. 'This doesn't feel right. None of it does.'

"Hey, kiddo," a voice said behind her. Amy spun around to see a man sitting on Dean's desk. "Haven't seen you in a while. You okay?"

Amy recognized the man from her dream the night before. Brown hair and eyes, wearing a black shirt with a green jacket over it. "Uh, yeah?" she asked. She looked behind her at the still closed door, then back at the man. "Sorry, do I know you?"

The man scoffed. "Oh, haha, very funny." He stood up from the desk and started approaching her. "You can drop the act now."

Amy backed away. "Seriously, who the hell are you? How did you get into my dad's office?"

The man froze. "Your dad?" he asked. "Amy, seriously drop the act. Are you okay?"

"I feel fine," Amy insisted. "You still haven't told me who you are or how you got into my dad's office though. Do you work here?"

The man got a look of realization on his face. "You really don't remember, do you?"

Amy crossed her arms. "Remember what?"

"What do you know?" the man asked.

"I know I was adopted by Dean Smith almost two years ago, after living in an orphanage for seventeen years," Amy told him. "I've lived here with him in Ohio ever since. He just started working here as the director of sales three weeks ago. I just started working here yesterday and we met this guy named Sam Wesson." She crossed her arms. "Then all this weird stuff started happening."

The man groaned. "I'm going to kill my brother."

"Kill?" Amy asked. "What are you talking about?"

The man started walking towards her again. Amy walked back until she found herself pinned against the wall.

"Sorry about this," the man said. He placed two fingers on her forehead.

"Hey, what are you-" Amy suddenly stopped as memories began flooding back into her head. Sam and Dean Winchester, hunting monsters, the show, Lilith, Ruby, Cas, and...

Amy looked up at the man, who she now recognized, and threw her arms around him in a hug. "Gabe, what the hell happened?"

"And she's back, ladies and gentlemen!"

Amy pulled away from the hug and looked around the room. She was standing in what appeared to be an office. "Where am I?" she asked.

"Do you remember anything from the past few days?" Gabe asked.

Amy shook her head. "The last thing I remember was stopping at a motel with Sam and Dean while on our way to our latest case."

"Seems someone decided to give you guys fake memories and drop you here."

Amy groaned. "Now I remember," she said. She walked past Gabe and sat on the desk. "This is the episode where Zachariah dropped Sam and Dean in the middle of a haunted building and gave them fake memories. They don't even remember they're brothers."

"Zachariah's here?" Gabe asked.

Amy nodded.

Gabe groaned. "Great."

Amy raised an eyebrow at the archangel in confusion. "What's up?"

"Let's just say, he's one of the last people I wanna run into here," Gabe explained.

Amy stood up from the desk. "Well, I am gonna go help out Sam and Dean. I don't think Sam Wesson and Dean Smith really know what they're getting into." She opened the office door and turned around. "Wanna come?"

"Do you really think I should?" Gabe asked.

Amy shrugged. "I didn't recognize where I was when you gave me my memories back," she reminded the archangel. "I doubt that after Sam and Dean get their memories back, they'll remember seeing you." She shrugged. "You don't have to, if you don't want to, though. I just wanted some company." She paused. "Besides, I actually don't know where I'm going," she admitted.

Gabe smiled. "Alright, let's go then. Room fourteen forty-four."


Amy and Gabe didn't need to go very far before Sam and Dean came barreling down the hallway. Amy had to stop herself from laughing at their outfits.

"We...need...to...go," Dean said in between heavy breaths. "Now."

"What happened?" Amy asked.

Dean grabbed his bag and the car keys. "We'll tell you in the car." He looked up at Gabe. "Who's this?"

"Uh..." Amy looked up to see that Gabe had transformed into a different look.

Gabe stepped forward. "Ed Coleman," he said, extending a hand. "I'm new here."

Dean nodded uneasily. "Uh, huh. I'll just ignore the fact that you decided to come into my office in the middle of the night and talk to my daughter, but I'm afraid you're gonna have to leave now." He gestured Amy towards the door. "Let's go."

Without even waiting for Amy to follow them, Sam and Dean started walking down the hall.

"He didn't even try to kill me," Gabe said in shock.

Amy shrugged. "I told you, they don't remember anything. Also, Mystery Spot guy?"

Gabe shrugged, transforming into his normal look. "Didn't wanna risk anything."

"Yeah, no, I get it," Amy told the archangel. She started walking toward the door. "Well," she said with a sigh, "this next day or so should be fun."

"You gonna try and get them to remember everything?" Gabe asked.

Amy shook her head. "I highly doubt I'll be able to. No, I'll just keep pretending to be Dean's daughter, I guess. Maybe try and speed all this along, if I can. Hopefully, this will all be over soon, anyway, and we can go back to our normal, messed-up lives." She pointed her thumb down the hallway. "I should probably get going, though."

Gabriel nodded. "Right. I'll see you soon."

Amy smiled. "I hope so. And, Gabe?"

"Yeah?"

Amy wrapped her arms around the archangel in another hug. "Thanks. For everything."

"For what?" Gabe asked.

"Just...being there, whenever I need someone." She pulled away from the hug. "Thanks for being my friend."

Without another word, Amy took off running down the hallway after Sam and Dean. She found them waiting for her by a silver Prius.

"What the hell took you so long?" Dean asked.

"I was talking with that guy," Amy explained.

"I told you we needed to leave," Dean told her as they got into the car.

"Okay, well, sorry," Amy said as Dean started the engine and started driving down the street. "What did you guys see in there, anyway?"

"We think we may have seen a ghost," Sam explained

Amy smiled enthusiastically. "Cool!"

"No, not cool," Dean argued. "That thing was downright scary."

"If you say so," Amy said, leaning against the window. "What did it look like?"

"Some old dude," Dean explained. "The same one I saw in the bathroom. He had this lightning in his fingers."

"Lightning?" Amy asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. He was going after one of the other tech support workers when we got there. If Dean hadn't swung that wrench at it, I don't think we would have gotten out of there alive."


They reached Dean's apartment a short while later. Dean paced around the living room nervously, drinking his Master Cleanse, while Sam and Amy sat on the table, watching him.

"Holy crap, dude," Dean said, breaking the long silence.

Sam laughed nervously. "Yeah. I could use a beer."

Dean stopped pacing. "Oh, sorry, man. I'm on the Cleanse. I got rid of most of the carbs in the house. Amy, could you grab a couple of water bottles from the fridge?"

Amy nodded and headed into the kitchen. She grabbed two water bottles from the fridge, handing one to Sam.

"Hey. How the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?" Sam asked as he took the water.

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

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

"What like...in another life?" Amy asked.

"No." Sam sighed. "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."

Dean scoffed. "I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way."

Amy silently agreed.

Sam snook his head. "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."

"It's better than Smith," Amy pointed out.

"I don't know how else to explain it," Sam continued, "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? Have you ever felt that way?"

Dean paused for a moment, contemplating what Sam had said. Finally, he shook his head. "I don't believe in destiny," he said. "I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though."

"The ghost," Amy spoke up.

Dean gave her a small nod. "Exactly." He put his Master Cleanse on the counter and walked towards the table with his laptop on it.

"All right, so, what do we do now?" Sam asked.

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

Sam nodded. "Okay." He paused, realizing what Dean had said. "Did you just call me Sammy?"

Dean froze in his tracks. "Did I?"

Sam thought for a moment. "I think you did. Yeah." He shuddered slightly. "Don't."

Dean looked puzzled for a moment. "Sorry."

"Okay, so, the ghost would most likely be someone who used to work in the building, right?" Amy asked.

"What makes you say that?" Dean questioned.

"Well, I mean, every ghost show I've ever seen, ghosts are tied to the places that they haunt, usually because of something they owned inside the building," Amy explained.

"And you think a fictional ghost show will help us here?" Sam asked.

"You guys literally just saw a ghost and you're questioning whether or not tips from a ghost show will be helpful?" Amy asked.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, contemplating for a moment.

Finally, Sam shrugged. "She's got a point."

Dean opened his laptop. "So, I should look for anyone who might have an important connection to the building?"

"Check to see if anyone has ever died in the building," Amy explained.

Dean nodded and turned to the screen.


Ten minutes later, Dean looked up from the screen. "Jackpot!"

"You find something?" Sam asked as he and Amy gathered behind Dean to see the screen.

Dean showed him his laptop screen. On it, was an article about the death or Sandover's founder, along with a picture. "That's him," he said, pointing to the picture. "That's the ghost."

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

"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," Amy continued reading. "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 finished.

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

"Making model employees," Amy added.

Sam pointed to the screen. "Says right there that this isn't the first time people started killing themselves in the building. 1929."

"Lots of people jumped off high rises at the start of the Great Depression," Amy pointed out.

"How many companies had seventeen suicides?" Sam asked.

Dean let out a breath. He stood up and started pacing around the table. "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-"

"-is now," Dean finished. "Yeah, now sucks. My portfolio's in the sewer. I don't even wanna talk about it." He grimaced.

Sam sighed. "So Sandover's helping the bottom line-"

"-by zapping some model employees," Dean finished.

Sam sat down at Dean's laptop and started scrolling through the article. "Yeah. I mean, Ian and Paul..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "It was like he turned them into different people."

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

"Huh," Sam said, looking at something on the screen. "One more interesting fact. The building wasn't always that high."

"Let me guess," Amy said, "used to be fourteen floors?"

Sam nodded. "And the room where the ghost attacked fourteen forty-four? Once upon a time, that was the old man's office."

Dean sighed. "Okay, so, how the hell are we supposed to defeat a ghost."

"Iron and salt dispels them," Amy pointed out. At Sam and Dean's weird looks, she added "got it from my shows."

"Since when do you watch ghost shows?" Dean asked.

Amy shrugged. "There was one on one day and I watched it because there was nothing else on. Ended up liking it."

"Hmm." Dean walked over to the fireplace. "So, iron and salt, huh?"

Amy nodded. "Rocksalt also works. Shotgun shell packed full of it." She walked into the kitchen and began searching through the pantry, quickly finding a salt shaker.

Dean packed two iron pokers in a duffle bag. "Where do we even get a gun?" he asked as Amy handed him the salt.

Sam shrugged. "Gun store?"

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

"Okay, so, maybe skip the guns," Amy suggested.

Dean zipped up the bag. "So, iron and salt," he said, "but that only gets rid of them for a moment, right?"

Amy nodded. "The show also said something about burning the remains of whoever died. Usually, it means digging up a body, but in some cases, like when the body was cremated, something that belonged to the person who died could be in the building they're haunting. And that item could have some DNA in it." She grabbed a lighter off of the counter, tossing it into the bag.

"How the hell do you know so much about this?" Dean asked his fake daughter.

Amy shrugged. "That ghost show goes into a lot of detail."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Sam shrugged and Dean turned back to Amy.

"Alright," Dean said as he picked up the duffle bag. "Sam and I will be back in a bit." He paused. "Hopefully," he added.

Sam and Dean began walking towards the exit, but Amy stepped in front of them, blocking their path.

"I'm going with," she declared.

Dean shook his head. "I'm not risking putting your life in danger. Stay here."

"No!" Amy snapped. "It'll go better with three people. Let me help, Dean."

"Damn it, Amelia, no!" Dean bellowed.

"Maybe she should come with," Sam muttered.

"You don't get a say in this," Dean snapped at Sam. He looked back at Amy. "You're my daughter," he reminded her. "I'm not putting your life in danger."

"I'm also an adult," Amy pointed out, "and I'm capable of making my own decisions. Like this one. I'm coming with, whether you like it or not."

Dean groaned. "There's no point arguing with you, is there?" he asked.

Amy shook her head. "Nope."

"Maybe it'll be safer with three people," Sam spoke up, "like she said."

Dean spun around. "Do you have a daughter?" he asked. "Or a son?"

Sam shook his head. "No, but-"

Dean cut him off. "Then stay out of this."

Sam straightened up, towering over Dean. "But, if I did," he continued, "I'd let her come with. Especially if I knew she could help."

"Thank you, Sam," Amy said gratefully. Sam nodded in acknowledgment.

Dean let out a long sigh. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly, "you can come. But stay close and don't get involved in any physical confrontation."

Amy nodded. "Deal." She pointed to the door. "Now, can we go? We got a ghost to find."

Dean led the way out of the apartment, closing the door behind them.


March 22nd, 2008

They reached the building sometime after midnight. Amy grabbed the duffle bag from the backseat and followed Sam and Dean inside.

Dean led them into the elevator. "Set your cell phone to walkie-talkie in case we get separated," he instructed.

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

"Well, I mean, the ghost was the founder of Sandover, right?" Amy asked. "Maybe they have some sort of memorial for him or something in the building."

"Well, that creepy storeroom used to be Sandover's office, right?" Dean asked. Sam nodded and Dean pushed the button to go to the fourteenth floor.

When the elevator stopped, Dean led them down the hall to the correct room. Amy dropped the duffle bag near the door.

"Alright, start searching," Dean told them, "there's gotta be something around here."

Dean went looking behind some shelves while Amy stayed near Sam to look through the desk.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Amy quickly spun around to see a security guard standing behind her and Sam, shining a flashlight in their faces.

"Nothing," Sam insisted. "I just-" he looked at Amy for help.

"We work here," Amy told the guard. "I, uh, forgot something and needed to get it back as soon as possible."

"Uh-huh," the guard said, not buying their story. He grabbed Sam and Amy by their arms. "Come with me, you two."

Amy looked back for any sign that Dean was coming to help them as the guard dragged them out of the room, but she only caught a glimpse of him hiding behind some shelves.

The guard pulled Sam and Amy out of the room, turning to close the door behind them.

"Man, listen. Look. It's okay," Sam insisted. "We work here, honest."

The guard rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Tell it to the cops."

Amy and Sam got dragged down to the elevator. The guard pushed a button and they started going down several floors.

Around the tenth floor, the weather screen in the elevator suddenly turned to static.

"Damnit," Amy hissed. The visibility of her breath didn't go unnoticed.

The elevator screeched to a halt, causing everyone to briefly lose their balance. The guard let out a groan before using his elevator key to open the inner doors. They were stuck between two floors, with just enough room for one person to climb through to the above floor. Amy stepped back as the guard struggled to open the outer doors.

"Well, come on," the guard instructed.

Sam looked at Amy nervously. "What?"

The guard turned to face them. "Last time this happened, it took them two hours to get here."

"Let's just wait," Sam suggested.

The guard gave Sam a confused look, before turning back to the doors and crawling out, almost kicking Sam in the face in the process. Once he was out, he turned back to the inside of the elevator.

Amy grabbed the guards hand, letting him help her onto the next floor. "Sam, come on," she urged once she was on solid ground.

Sam let out a nervous laugh. "Seriously, I'll wait."

The guard stuck his head back inside the elevator. "Look, I don't have the rest of my life," he snapped impatiently.

As soon as he said that, the elevator jerked down abruptly. Amy screamed as the guard was sliced in half and blood sprayed all over Sam's face and shirt.

Amy cautiously leaned into the elevator to see the guard's decapitated head at Sam's feet.

After a while, Dean's voice coming through Sam's phone broke the silence. "Hey. Are you okay?"

Sam slowly pulled out his phone with a shaky hand. "Call you back," he replied weakly. He put his phone away and looked up at Amy. "You okay?"

Amy nodded. "I'm fine. Now would you please get out of there before you fall ten stories?"

Sam quickly climbed out of the elevator, past the guard's corpse. "How are you so calm about what just happened?" he asked, his voice still shaking slightly.

Amy shrugged. "I've never had a problem with gore. You got a towel or something? You, uh, got something on your face."

Sam walked down the aisle of cubicles before disappearing into another room, emerging a moment later with a towel. He wiped the blood off his face as he led Amy through the floor.

As they approached the stairwell, Sam pulled his phone back out and pushed the talk button. Dean, are you there?"

Dean's voice came through the speaker. "Yeah, listen, I think I got it," he told them. "Meet me on twenty-two."

Sam pushed the door to the stairs open and Amy followed him through. "Okay, yeah. Just, uh, take the stairs," he replied nervously. Sam closed his phone back up and put it back in his pocket.

"We're gonna climb twelve floors?" Amy asked.

Sam looked up at the many stairs that awaited them. "I'm not taking the elevator. Now come on."


Within fifteen minutes, they had reached the twenty-second floor. Amy stopped to catch her breath before following Sam down the hallway.

They found Dean standing by the Sandover history display, near a glass case with some gloves in them.

Dean opened his mouth to say something but stopped when he saw the blood on Sam's shirt. "Whoa. That's a lot of blood," he commented.

Sam glared at his brother. "Yeah, I know."

Amy pointed to the gloves. "Those them?"

Dean continued to stare at Sam hesitantly for a moment, before answering. "Uh, yeah. P. T. Sandover's gloves."

Sam studied the glass case.

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

Amy grabbed an iron poker from the duffle bag, handing the other out for Sam or Dean to take. "Let's do this," she said with a smile.

"So you ready?" Sam asked as he took the other poker from Amy.

Dean grabbed the poker Amy had, much to her dismay. "I have no idea," he admitted.

Sam let out a heavy sigh. "Me neither."

Amy grabbed the salt from the bag and stood back, preparing herself to fight.

Sam gave Dean a nod. "Go for it."

Dean used the poker to break the glass, pushing the shards away. Sam's breath became visible as Sandover suddenly appeared directly behind Dean.

"Dean, look out!" Amy cried out. She snatched the iron poker out of Sam's hands and swung it through the ghost.

Sandover vanished, but only for a moment. Amy didn't have time to react as she and Sam were suddenly thrown back into the wall, while Dean was thrown into another.

The ghost started approaching Amy, electricity sparking in his fingertips. Sam quickly grabbed the salt shaker and flung it at the ghost, dispelling it.

"Oh. Nice," Dean praised as he stood up.

Sandover suddenly reappeared behind Dean.

"Dean." Sam grabbed the iron poker and tossed it to Dean.

"Behind you!" Amy added as Dean caught the poker and spun around, swinging it through the ghost.

Sam smiled in amusement. "Nice catch."

"Right?" Dean laughed.

Amy quickly stood up and walked over to the gloves. "I'll get the gloves," she offered. "You guys just keep him from getting me."

Sam and Dean each grabbed a poker and stood with their backs to each other, next to Amy. Amy quickly grabbed the gloves from the case.

As Amy turned back around, Sandover reappeared directly in front of her. She ducked to avoid the pokers being swung by Sam and Dean. Sandover immediately reappeared behind Sam, throwing Dean into the wall down the hall and knocking him unconscious.

"Dean!" Amy cried out. Dean stirred slightly but didn't wake.

Sam swung the poker through Sandover, but the ghost immediately reappeared behind them, throwing Amy and Sam into opposite walls.

Sandover began to approach Dean, his hands sparking. Amy quickly crawled over and grabbed the gloves. She grabbed the gloves before rummaging through the duffle bag for the lighter. As Sandover got closer to Dean, Amy quickly lit the lighter, using it to ignite the gloves.

Amy dropped the burning gloves to the ground as she and Sam watched Sandover burn away. She dropped the lighter back in the bag as Sam stood up and walked over to her.

A groan alerted them to Dean down the hall, who was finally waking up.

"Dean, you okay?" Amy asked.

Dean let out another groan. "Yeah, I'm good."

Sam let out a laugh. "That was amazing."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Right?" he asked with a grin. He stood back up. "Come on. I got a first-aid kit in my office."


Dean led them into the office, flicking on the lights. Sam sat down on the desk while Dean reached into a cupboard and pulled out a white box, before sitting down next to his brother. Amy pulled a chair up next to the desk and sat down.

Dean laughed. "Man, I gotta tell you. I've never had so much fun in my life."

"Me neither."

Amy merely smiled in amusement.

Dean opened the first-aid kit. "That was a hell of a workout too, wasn't it?"

"Got that right," Amy commented.

Sam contemplated something for a moment. "We should keep doing this," he finally said.

"I know," Dean said, not understanding what Sam meant. He pulled two gauze pads from the kit, handing one to Sam. "Amy, you need one?"

Amy shook her head. "I'm good."

"I mean it," Sam continued. "There gotta be other ghosts out there. We could help a lot of people."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, we'd be real-life Ghostbusters."

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

"Sam's right, Dean," Amy spoke up. "This isn't supposed to be your life. It's not supposed to be our lives."

"What are you guys talking about?" Dean asked. "We-we quit our jobs and hit the road?"

Sam nodded. "Exactly."

"Yes," Amy said at the same time.

Dean stared at Sam and Amy in disbelief. "How would we live?"

"Uh..." Sam trailed off, unable to think of anything.

Dean scoffed again. "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?"

Amy snickered, which went unnoticed by Sam and Dean.

"That's all just details," Sam argued.

"Besides," Amy added, "I think it would be worth it."

"You don't wanna go fighting ghosts without any health insurance," Dean pointed out.

Sam looked down and cleared his throat. "All right, um, confession."

Dean paused, looking back at Sam. "What?"

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

Dean nodded. "Yeah?"

"I was fighting them," Sam admitted.

Dean put the first-aid kit away and sat back down on the desk. "Okay."

"With you," Sam continued. He looked over at Amy. "With both of you. The three of us, we were these, like, hunters, and we were friends." He scoffed. "More like a family, 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?"

Dean shook his head. "That's insane."

Sam stood up from the desk. "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," Dean pointed out. "I mean, I'm sorry, but-"

"There's way more than just one ghost, Dean," Amy pointed out. "There are dozens, maybe hundreds all across the states."

"All I know," Sam continued, "is this isn't who we're supposed to be."

Dean shook his head. "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, and my sister's name is Jo. Amy is my daughter, I adopted her almost two years ago."

"No, I'm not."

Dean looked up at Amy. "What?" he asked quietly.

"I said I'm not your daughter, Dean," Amy repeated.

Dean looked slightly hurt and Amy started to feel bad.

"Of course you're my daughter," Dean said. "I adopted you on January fourteenth, 2008. You were seventeen and you didn't know why I was picking you out of all the others because there were other girls there that I could watch grow up. But I still wanted to adopt you, out of all the others."

Amy wiped a tear from her eye. "Dean, I wish that were true, I really do. I am part of your family, yours and Sam's family, but you didn't adopt me. Sam and I were kidnapped by demons at the end of April in 2007. Before then, it was just the two of you. Sam and Dean, the Winchester bros. Saving people, hunting things, the family business. January fourteenth is the day you finally let me start going on hunts with you, not the day you adopted me."

The teen let out a long sigh. "Sam is right, Dean. Your brains have been scrambled. But not by a ghost, by an angel. I've had my memories back for the past few hours, but the two of you have still been running around blind. Your mother is Mary Winchester. She was killed by a demon when you were four and your father, John spent the rest of his life dedicated to finding it, while training you and Sam to be hunters in the process. You were literally raised to do this, Dean." Amy looked up at Sam, who hadn't said a single word. "Both of you were."

Dean stared at Amy, and she swore she could see his heart shatter into a million pieces. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it back up again, turning his head to the ground. "So, you don't wanna be my daughter anymore?"

Amy shook her head. "I'm saying I never was. And, now that I say that out loud, I realize it sounds way worse. But Dean, I'm still part of your family, just not in the way you think."

Sam finally spoke up. "When was the last time you spoke to the rest of your family?" he asked quietly. "To any of them?"

Dean wiped a tear away. "I don't know," he admitted, "but look, I know you're upset. You're upset, you're confused-"

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

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

"Yes, Dean!" Amy exclaimed in exasperation. "That's exactly what we're saying."

"All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut," Sam continued. "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."

Dean stared at Sam for a moment. "Know me?" he finally asked. "You don't know me, pal. You should go."

Without another word, Sam turned and walked out of the office.


Neither Dean nor Amy said a word the entire ride home. Every time Amy had tried to apologize to Dean, he had brushed her off. She found her bedroom without a word, but couldn't find it in her to fall asleep while waiting for the next day to approach. She felt bad for all those things she had said to Dean. To him, she was Amy Smith, his adopted daughter.

Amy rolled over under the covers. She just hoped that tomorrow this would all get sorted out and they could go back to their normal, messed-up lives.


March 23rd, 2008

The next day, Dean still wasn't talking to her. Amy ate a bowl of cereal in silence before getting into the silver Prius with Dean as he drove them back to Sandover.

Amy followed Dean to his office, knowing she would likely see "Mr. Adler" today. Dean turned around to face her as he unlocked the door, finally speaking to her for the first time since the previous night.

"Head on downstairs to work," he told her, "I'll pick you up after your shift."

Amy shook her head. "Sorry, Dean. Not happening." She pushed past him into the office, sitting down at the table near the desk.

Dean hesitated in the doorway, staring at her for a moment before finally walking into the office and sitting down at the computer.


It didn't take long for Zachariah to knock on the door to the office.

"Got a minute?" he asked Dean.

Dean looked up from the computer he had been typing away at for the last twenty minutes and smiled. "Sure, of course."

Zachariah entered the office and shut the door. He turned to face Dean, only to spot Amy still sitting at the table.

"Shouldn't you be downstairs working with Mrs. Powell?" the angel asked.

Amy shook her head. "No, Zachariah, I don't think I should."

Zachariah's eyes got wide. "You remember?"

Amy nodded. "Since yesterday," she hissed. "Now I would appreciate it if you would give Dean back his memories. Now."

"Amelia!" Dean snapped.

Zachariah held up a hand. "No, no, it's alright." He turned back to Amy, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "How did you get your memories back?"

"Like I'd tell you," Amy snarled.

Zachariah smirked before turning to Dean. "You look a little tired," he commented. "Been working hard, I gather."

"Yeah," Dean mumbled, casting a few glances in Amy's direction.

Zachariah brushed off Dean's tone. "Ah, don't be modest. I hear everything. And I'm pleased with what I'm hearing." He sat down at the desk and pulled out a pen and a piece of notepaper "That's why it's important to me that you're happy." The angel wrote a number on the paper and slid it over to Dean. "How's that for a bonus?"

Dean took the paper and looked at it in surprise. "That's very generous," he said slowly.

Zachariah shrugged and leaned back in the seat. "Purely selfish. Wanna make sure you're not going anywhere."

"Wow. Are you sure?" Dean asked.

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

Dean smiled. "Well, thanks. I try."

"I see big things in your future. Maybe even senior VP, Eastern Great Lakes Division."

Dean stared at the angel in shock.

Zachariah continued while Dean contemplated everything over. "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."

Dean slowly took off his headset and placed it on the desk. "Uh, well, thank you. Thank you, sir. It's, um...but..." Dean slid the paper back across the desk. "I am giving my notice."

Zachariah frowned. "This is a joke. You're kidding me, right? We can give you enough to put Amy through college if that's what you want."

Dean's gaze flickered over to Amy. She crossed her arms and shook her head.

Dean turned back to the angel. "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?" Zachariah frowned. "Another company?"

Dean shook his head. "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."

There was a brief pause before Zachariah smiled.

Dean looked at the angel in confusion. "What?"

"Dean, Dean, Dean." Zachariah smiled. "Finally."

The angel stood up and pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead. The atmosphere changed instantly as Dean regained his memories.

Dean looked around wildly. "What the hell?" He looked down. "Why am I wearing a tie? My God, am I hungry."

Zachariah laughed. "Welcome back."

Dean stood up from the desk. "Wait. Did I—did I just get touched by—you're an angel, aren't you?"

"Zachariah," Amy replied, stepping up to the desk.

Zachariah nodded. "How did you know?"

"Not telling you," Amy stated.

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

"I'm hardly another one, Dean," Zachariah informed him. "I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here into one of these smelly things." He gestured down to his vessel. "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," Dean snapped.

"Starting with your attitude." Zachariah glanced over at Amy. "Both of yours."

Dean stared at the angel for a brief moment. "Oh, so, what?" he asked. "This was all some sort of a lesson? Is that what you're telling me? Wow. Very creative."

"You should see my decoupage," Zachariah said seriously.

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

"Not at all." Zachariah turned and walked to the center of the room. "Real place, real haunting. Just plunked you in the middle without the benefit of your memories."

"Just to shake things up?" Dean asked. "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," Zachariah corrected. "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? Dean asked. "The apocalypse, huh? Lucifer? What? Be specific, man."

"You'll do everything you're destined to do," Zachariah informed him. "All of it. But I know, I know. You're not strong enough." He cast another glance at Amy. "Neither of you are. You're scared. You got daddy issues. You can't do it. Right?"

Dean balled his fist. "Angel or not, I will stab you in your face," he warned.

"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 scoffed and turned away as the angel continued on.

"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." Zachariah's voice started to rise. "So for God's sake, Dean quit whining about it. Look around," Zachariah spun in place around the room, gesturing to everything around him, "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?"

Dean spun back around, but the angel was already gone.

"You know," Amy spoke, "some of the angels in this show really are straight-up dicks." She turned to face Dean, who was still standing in the same spot. "Hey, uh, do you remember any of what I told you last night?"

Dean nodded. "It's fuzzy, but yeah. I remember enough."

Amy sighed. "I was afraid of that. Look, Dean, I'm sorry about all of that. I got my memories back and I guess I was just frustrated with everything going on. I was trying to get you to remember and I guess that meant doing anything to make that happen."

Dean walked up and pulled her into a hug. "I forgive you," he said. "And just so you know, you'll always be a part of this family. But, uh, how did you get your memories back?"

Amy shook her head. "Sorry Dean, but that's one thing I won't be telling you. No matter how many times you try to ask."

As Amy and Dean pulled away from the hug, the door burst open and Sam ran in.

"Guys?"

Dean smiled. "Hiya, Sammy."

"What the hell happened?" Sam asked.

"An angel, Zachariah, put us in a haunted building with fake memories."

"I am going to kill him," Dean promised as he threw off his jacket. "But first, I need to make sure my baby's alright."

Dean dashed out the door and down the hallway with Amy and Sam close behind. They hurried downstairs and out the main entrance.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the Impala sitting where he had parked her. "Thank God." He pulled the keys from his pocket. "Let's get the hell out of this town."