Chapter 2

Exactly fifteen minutes after the basement light of Number 50 Berkley Street was extinguished, two shadowy figures snuck through the back alley towards the fence behind the duplex. The shorter of the two grabbed onto the metal mesh and smoothly swung his body over the top. The taller, gangly shape followed behind, though slightly less gracefully. They crept across the backyard to the main floor window, pried it open, and climbed through.

"Where do you figure we should start looking?" Dean asked his brother.

"Upstairs, since we've already been all over the first floor and the owner seems to live downstairs," Sam replied.

"Upstairs it is, then," Dean began carefully threading his way around the back of the store, careful to be completely silent as he had been trained to do from an early age.

The second floor of the small building consisted of three main rooms, with miscellaneous junk strewn all about them.

"We should split up – you know, cover ground faster. We don't want the old man to wake up and find us here." Dean told Sam, turning towards the larger room on his left.

"Split up? What the hell, Dean! Have you ever seen a horror movie? You know why everyone dies in them? Because they do a dumbass thing like split up!"

"Sam just shut your face and get looking, already. We'll be fine!" Dean shoved him in the direction of the room down the hall.

Dean was getting bored, poking around the room with his EMF meter, Brenda, and picking up nothing in the way of readings. He was sick of looking at these boxes; it was boring the hell out of him. All of a sudden the little lights on the top of his beloved creation stared flashing wildly. A noise sounded from the other side of the room, like a muffled footfall.

Sam, he thought, No. Wait. Sam wouldn't be stupid enough to make that much noise. Dean reprimanded himself, slowly turning around to face the interior of the room. A dark, amorphous form was beginning to appear against the opposite wall, a black cloud coalescing into a vaguely human shape.

As it unhurriedly advanced towards him, becoming more solid with every movement, Dean shot confidently at it with his rocksalt-filled shotgun.

Nothing happened.

Crap, Dean thought, that's always worked before.

As the form continued to approach him he felt a sudden wave of nearly uncontrollable fear roll over him, and he fought the urge to scream.

"You think your 'scare tactics' are gonna work on me? I hunt creeps like you," Dean stalled, desperately trying to think of another plan. The rocksalt was supposed to work!

Dean's facade faltered – why did the thing look like his dad? For indeed, the cloud of darkness had begun to resemble John Winchester. Very strongly. The creature with John's blank face kept drawing nearer to him, and Dean was frozen to the spot. Only his eyes moved, flicking wildly around, searching for something to use.

Why the hell didn't I bring my knives with me? he wondered.

"Sam?" Dean called softly for his brother, "Sammy?"

Suddenly his father – no, the ghost's hand shot out and grasped his throat in a crushing grip, lifting his feet slightly off the ground. Dean was really starting to panic now, and couldn't even manage to gasp out his brother's name. When he kicked at the specter, his foot went right through; although it had an all-too-real hold on his windpipe the rest of the thing was not solid. The edges of his vision were turning black, and Dean knew he'd pass out soon. In a last-ditch attempt, he kicked the wall behind him, trying to get his baby brother's attention.

Sam was wandering lethargically around the room Dean had shoved him into, wondering if his brother was having better luck in the 'finding-something-supernatural' department than he was.

Sam stopped abruptly, listening. There it was again, a bang from the adjacent room.

Dean should know better than to make that much noise, he thought. He bolted from the room to find his nearly unconscious sibling struggling weakly in the grip of...their father? Sam violently shook his head then pulled the trigger on his shotgun.

As the spray of rocksalt passed through the ghost's body, the phantasm turned to look at Sam through dead eyes. He couldn't suppress a gasp at the lack of...well, anything in his father's normally fiery eyes. One look before he dissolved into mist and disappeared. Dean's unmoving body falling to the floor brought Sam back to his senses. He rushed to his brother's side, gently turning him over to inspect what damage had been done.

"Dean?" he said in hushed tones, frightened by his brother's apparent lifelessness.

"That didn't work when I tried it," Dean would have sounded disgruntled if it weren't for his obviously labored breathing. Sam helped Dean to sit up after the latter failed in his attempt to do so on his own.

The younger Winchester was in the process of assisting the quickly recovering Dean to his feet when a loud crash was heard from downstairs. It sounded as if the front door had been hit with a battering ram.

"Shit," Dean breathed, fully regaining his breath. "Is there more than one?" He didn't know if he could handle another encounter tonight.

What are we dealing with here? Sam thought, but before he could respond to his brother's question, a pale apparition ran past their doorway. Purely on instinct, Sam fired his reloaded gun at it – and missed. He did, however, manage to blow a rather sizeable chunk out of the doorframe.

"Police!" The cry came from the side of the hall the pale creature had run to.

"Drop your weapons!" Another voice barked from the direction of the stairwell.

"Aw, hell no!" Dean said disbelievingly. Cops. That was seriously the last thing they needed right now. To get arrested in the middle of an obviously big job.

"Any way out?" he asked Sammy hopefully, whilst frantically searching about the room for an alternate exit.

"Not unless you wanna jump two stories," Sam replied flatly, his tone indicating that he was enjoying this just as much as Dean was.

All out of options, with the footsteps of the police drawing nearer by the second, Dean and Sam accepted defeat and lowered their guns.

At the very instant they expected to see the silhouette of the cops in the doorway, the door to the room slammed shut and locked itself with a snap.

One of the cops in the hallway gave a terrified scream, followed by a gunshot. Sam and Dean dropped to the ground and peered under the door just in time to see the officer closest to the stairs hit the ground with a thud.

Turning to look at the other pair of feet visible from their level, Dean was the first to notice the vague, translucent figure right in front of the second, trembling police man.

"Guess you didn't kill the bastard after all, Sammy."

Before Sam could correct Dean on his usage of the name 'Sammy', the spirit in the hallway disappeared. The remaining cop gave a short, strangled cry, and ran to the stairway. The brothers watched as he tripped over his partner's corpse in the dark, and tumbled down the stairs. It might have been a comical sight if they hadn't heard the sickening snap of the man's neck breaking.

Both of the boys felt the telltale prickling in their spines and slowly turned around. The evil apparition was there behind them. They jumped to their feet.

"Doesn't he have anything better to do?" Dean growled to Sam, annoyed.

"Apparently not," Sam tried the doorknob behind him. Still locked. Of course. Like this thing would actually allow us to go.

"I think we're taking the 'jump-and-hope-we-don't-die' option," Dean said as they began sliding along the wall towards the window.

But the spirit was coming towards them and Sam didn't think they'd make it out the window in time.

Suddenly the door flew open, startling all three within the room.

"GO TO YOUR ROOM!" a commanding voice boomed.

The ghost vanished instantly and the two young men were left facing the little old bookkeeper who stood in the doorway.