Chapter 7- Confessions, Secrets and Long Lost Fathers

Sam and Dean sat in the small road side diner right across from their hotel and stole a booth in the back. Sam sat on one side with the laptop, clicking away and working on something while Dean sat across from him, his eyes locked on something interesting on the table top. He didn't like not knowing what Tate was doing or where she was, this feeling of not being around her had started to fade away when he saw her after all that time apart, but now it was back and worse than before. It made him nervous and jumpy, always expecting her to walk through a door or call his cell phone.

"Calm down, she's fine. She knows what she's doing." Sam said; his eyes still locked on the computer screen.

"How do you know she's fine? How do you know something...?"

"She'd call if she really needed us."

"But what if she couldn't?" Sam finally looked up at his brother and sighed. Having Tate around, even though it had only been two very long days, was tormenting Dean. To anyone else, it seemed as if Dean and Tate had still been together and he was worried about his missing girlfriend. Sam knew how much his brother cared about her, even though the only person who 'knew' that was Dean.

"Dean, calm down. This is Tate we're talking about; she can get herself out of any mess." He said as the familiar sound of his cell phone's ringer went off. Pulling it out of his coat pocket, he read the caller ID and quickly handed it over to Dean.

"You take it." He said; Dean heard it in his voice, whoever it was Sam did not want to talk to. Taking the small silver phone he read the caller ID too and paled: Ben. Benjamin King was Tate's father, the only other man the boys knew to take orders from and part of Dean still feared the older man. He was a former Marine who towered over John, had steely colored eyes and a booming voice that had never once been directed toward his daughter, but toward the Winchester boys. The memory of his screaming still rattle Dean's bones. All and all, he was a scary man even at fifty three.

"What do I do?"

"Pick it up Dean." Sam hissed as the ringing continued.

"What do I say?"

"Hello maybe? I dunno." Dean flipped open the phone before the machine picked up and took a deep breath as her brought it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Dean? Its Ben. I called Sam's phone."

"He's busy, I just picked it up."

"Oh, all right. Look, I need to ask you something."

"Go ahead sir, shoot."

"Have you heard from Tate? I called her place and got the machine, I've been trying to get her for about two weeks."

"She was working and now she's with us."

"That explains the house phone but I called her cell phone an hour ago and it said the number was disconnected. Have you heard from her on her cell?" Dean's eyes widen and reached for his own phone. Pulling it out of his pocket, he tossed it at Sam and whispered to call Tate.

"No, I haven't. But I'll try her on Sam's phone and then call you right back."

"Thanks Dean." Hanging up on Ben, he looked at his younger brother and hoped she was all right.

"Well did you get anything? Her voice mail? Her?" Dean was nearly begging and searched Sam's eyes for something, anything.

"No, it says the phone's been shut off."

"Shit! We're leaving now!"

The ghost, well what Tate had ruled out to be a ghost a very pissed off ghost, slammed the door shut and she heard the sounds of the lock clicking. Whatever it was, Tate was stuck. She couldn't move her hands off the arms of the chair or pull her back away from the wooden back rest. It was as if she glued to the seat. She tried everything, kicking her feet, moving her arms, but nothing worked so she started shifting her weight from one side of the chair to the other. As she got the chair onto two legs, just about to tip over, the ghost turned to face Tate.

"Silly little girl, trying to get away." It hissed and with a flick of what looked like a wrist, it sent Tate; chair and all flying into Shauna's office, smashing into her desk and throwing a very expensive looking computer onto the floor. In the one shaft of light streaming in through the small office window, Tate saw the ghost as it made its way towards her, had the figure and face of a woman. Even though she had a gray glow about her, Tate made out dark hair, a pretty face with the same kind of gray eyes as the rest of her, lighter clothes and in her stomach rested four dark circles; bullet wounds.

"So you see me the way I am now, thanks to that earlier."

"You do suck out their souls, that's why all the victims are shriveled up."

"And I only need one more to become whole." She said, touching Tate's face, only to have her turn her head the other way and cringe when she pulled her face back. "You're going to be that last one."

"That's never going to happen."

"Who's going to save you? Your little boyfriend and his brother?" The woman taunted, her bony fingers threading through Tate's hair. "They don't even know where you are and they really don't care about you."

"They do care and they'll find me. I bet they're on their way right now." Tate ground out, her fingers clenching the very ends of the arm rests; her knuckles had gone white from holding on too tight.

"Doubt it. They really don't give a damn about you. Why do you think Dean let you leave after Garrett died?" Her eyes flashed; it almost looked like wild lightning flying across the pale purple pools. "Oh, did I touch a nerve?"

"How do you know about that?" It was intended to come out like a growl, but was actually a whimper.

"I know everything about my victims. I knew that the Mills girl felt guilty about her parents divorce, they were always fighting about the money they had to pay for her to go to school here. Or the last kid, the boy, he blamed himself for losing falling out of first place at the State level swim match. And I know you feel guilty for not only letting your brother die, but for leaving Dean when he needed you and you needed him. Such a romantic Tatum." The ghost grinned, her gray teeth matching her pulled tight lips.

"So you use guilt, unlike Bloody Mary who uses secrets. Big deal, Sam and Dean can get rid of you just like her."

"Not once I'm fully restored." She said advancing on Tate. Tate could feel the air around her getting cold and swore she could see her breath in the quickly changing temperature. Outside she could hear Shauna banging on the door, asking if she was all right, if anything happened and to be let in.

"Maybe I should take care of that little newspaper girl? She knew the boy I killed earlier, she might feel guilt about his death seeing as she was the last person who saw her." She said with a sly grin.

"No, don't do anything to her. She has nothing to do with this." She begged as the ghost turned toward the door, ignoring Tate's pleads, shivers and constant wiggling attempts to get free. Tate's mind was working a million a minute, she needed to find a way to buy herself some time and keep this ghost vacuum from sucking out two souls. An idea hit her and she called to the woman.

"Hey Ghosty Bitch!" Right away her gray head and darkened hair whipped around and she nearly growled at Tate. "Who are you and what happened? The bullet holes. Obviously you were murdered, so who did it and why are you killing others to get your revenge when you can just kill the person who did this to you?"

"I was murdered, but the person I want revenge on didn't do this to me! He left me for dead!" She yelled, her voice rattling the items that lined the shelves in the office. "I was a reporter, the best field reporter the station had. They always asked me to cover the best stories; my boss would beg me to do it. 'Tracy please, you're the only person I trust.' So I'd do them, he started calling them the Allerdyce reports..." Tate listened to her ramble on and on about some of her famous stories; just what she needed a cocky ghost, but something outside the office, outside the classroom in the hallway caught her attention. She heard Shauna explaining she couldn't get back inside a familiar, "Back away, cover your face, we'll take care of it" and knew she was safe. Dean and Sam had found her after all.

Dean kicked the classroom door open and rushed in, seeing Tate through the open office door. Sam followed behind him, a rifle loaded with rock salt bullets in hand and gasped when he saw Tate. The ghost was hovering right over her, unaware of the two men now in the room and kept talking about whatever Tate had asked her. That was Tate's way, distract the monster, ghost, demon or whatever till Sam and Dean showed up and handed her a gun.

"HEY!" Dean yelled as he stepped into the office, both the ghost and Tate looked at him; the ghost looked pissed but the look on Tate's face would be forever engraved in Dean's mind. It was the kind of look she used to give him when he'd come home safe from a hunt with their dads and she had to watch Sammy and Garrett. Her eyes lit up, a small smile painted itself on her lips and she practically glowed at him.

"So, they do care about you. Guess I was wrong. But what are you going to do? Save your Fair Lady or kill me?" She hissed as she reached towards Tate and Dean saw red.

"Both." Sam said, squeezing the trigger and watched the rock salt bullet pierce her almost human body but a very human scream tore from her throat. The force of the bullet ripped her body into black wisps, each of them flying up into the air conditioning vent over Tate's head and left small bleeding gashes on her face as they went. Once each black cloud was gone, Tate's body slumped into the chair and a breath she had been holding in slipped past her lips. Dean rushed to her side as her head lolled back and forth, the pressure the reporter's ghost had on her finally gone.

"Tate, look at me. Look at me." He whispered, turning her face towards him, his finger tips brushing across her jaw.

"I am looking at you De. Stop touching my face, it hurts." She whined as she pulled away; Dean knew she was all right, she was back to the normal sarcastic edging on bitchy girl he had known most of his life.

"Sammy, go get me a towel or something for her face."

"All right, find out what happened. Tell him Tate, leave nothing out." He told them both as he left the room. Sam left not only because Dean asked him to help Tate, he was going to leave to let the two of them have a moment alone. It wasn't everyday Dean was put in a situation where he was that close to watching his, well whatever she was to him, almost die.

Back in the now destroyed office, Dean watched as Tate moved away from his hand and touched her own face lightly, her finger tips barely brushing over the open cuts.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" And she did everything the ghost had told her. "So this Allerdyce chick gets pissed off because someone leaves her to die and she comes back to kill him? Did she say who it was?"

"No, just that she was murdered and whoever went out on this job with her left her there with four bullets in her. I guess if he had done something, she might've made it. I dunno; I'm not a doctor."

"Speaking of doctor, maybe we should get you to one. Some of these cuts are pretty deep."

"I'm not going Dean, I'll be fine."

"Fine, fine. Be that way. But at least let me take care of you when we get back to the hotel." Deep down, she couldn't resist that, him being so sweet to her after all the crap she had done to him and for a second, she felt tears pierce her eyes but they never fell.

"All right, but no My Lil Pony band-aids or some shit like that." She muttered as he helped her out of the chair. As she stood on her feet, leaning fully against Dean, she heard his cell phone go off.

"If its Sammy, I'll start laughing." She said as she dug into his pocket and pulled it out, not caring to look at the caller ID and flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Tate?"

"Dad?" She asked, standing up straight and brushing back her sweaty bangs, mentally preparing herself to see her father.

"I guess Dean found you?"

"Yeah, why? You couldn't get a hold of me?"

"No, every time I tried I got a message that said your phone was disconnected."

"I had no service sorry Dad. Did you need me or something?"

"Yeah, how fast can you get out to Colorado?"

"Colorado?" She mimed, her eye brows arching and she swore Dean's face fell.