A/N: Okay first I am so sorry for the lateness of this chapter. It was a real bitch to write and when I had it finished I wasn't happy with it so I sent it of to KateCyrus (my on/off beta) and she gave me some great ideas. I was originally going to make this like the second last chapter but thanks to her brilliantness I'm going to make the story longer. I've reworked the whole plot! It took a few re-writes, and I'm still not entirely happy but it's the best I could do when I'm as sick as I am right now. (Check out her storyEnergies and Ice Cream, it's brilliant!)
A/N2: BIG thanks for the reviews of the last chapter :) Sorry I didn't reply to each and every one of them but those brilliant people are: Just Jordy, circleofstars, Icewolfblackheart, TV Manic, ChaiGrl, Chilibelly79, SpookyClaire, PowerRangerFreeek, laughandlove and DeanLives. Thanks a whole bunch to you guys.
A/N3: I hope you don't get to confused with it but if Dean seems a little weird it's because he's suffering from hypothermia and it screws with your brain. So hope I don't confuse you too much with it. Now on with the show.
The lights on the EMF in Dean's hand blinked to life and he stopped his pacing. The room was now so cold there appeared to be some kind of light frost covering the window and he could see his breath in front of him.
Goose bumps had formed all over his body and he narrowed his eyes. The shotgun in his hand was feeling colder by the second, as the temperature dropped around him, and the metal was cool against his hand. His body was starting to shiver and he had no control over it.
"I told you to leave!" a cold voice sounded from behind him.
"A little hard to do when you lock me in bitch." Dean replied while spinning around, gun raised, to face his captor. Dean turned in a full circle, eyes peeled for anything he could shoot at but he wasn't getting much luck and the coldness in the room was starting get on his nerves. He body was shaking and his fingers were feeling numb, "God don't you people know how to invest in a fireplace."
Dean restarted his pacing around the room. The cold was really starting to get to him. 'Stupid ghost. Can never just be a quick salt and burn can it? Ohh no it always has to be harder'.
The older Winchester felt an icy cold sensation trail trace down the side of his face and then again across his back. It almost felt like soft fingers. The coldness of it shocked him out of his stupor, if only momentarily and he raised his gun alert in hunter mode once more. The violent shaking of his body wasn't helping matters and he couldn't hold the weapon straight.
"Come on out ghosty. I won't hurt you." He paused as the room seemed to drop colder still and the walls and floor were now glistening with a light sheet of ice, "I'm just going to fill you full of rock salt bitch!"
Sam narrowed his eyes and was just about to pull the trigger and fill this ghost full of rock salt but he paused. Donald was looking at him with sad eyes and he hadn't made a move to attack Sam like he should have by now. It was making the youngest Winchester uneasy.
Donald raised his transparent hands up in front of him, palms first in an act of peace but Sam didn't lower his gun. This could just be a trick.
"Follow." the ghost said, its voice pleading for Sam to believe him, his eyes quickly looking to the roof and back to Sam.
Sam let his eyes quickly look to the roof. It was obvious that the ghost had gestured to his brother who was currently locked upstairs, "Follow?" Sam asked, his voice hard enough to cut diamonds and his finger still tense on the trigger. What the hell was this ghost playing at!
The youngest Winchester mentally gulped hoping his brother was okay. Even with Sam's shining the younger hunter was sure his older brother somehow always managed to get into more trouble than him. Probably had something to do with pissing off spirits with that wise ass mouth of his all the time. But still, Sam couldn't lose Dean. Not after everything they had been through over the last few months. He wouldn't.
Donald made a gesture with his hand to indicate that he still wanted Sam to follow him and then turned his back on Sam and floated through the room and into the next one.
Maybe it was his spidey senses tingling but Sam lowered his gun slightly and followed the ghost. Something about the transparent figure's desperation was convincing enough for Sam to follow him and be lead into another room.
Donald floated a few feet off the ground and looked down sadly at floor he was above. He raised his hand and pointed below his feet, "She's down there."
Sam noticed that Donald was floating above a moldy old rug. He and Dean hadn't given it a second glance when they were in the house earlier but now that Sam thought about it, it was a random place to have a rug.
"Who's she?" he asked.
"My daughter." The ghost replied his tone full of grief as he floated to the side to allow Sam access to the rug.
Grabbing one corner of the once blue rug Sam pulled it off the floor and tossed it aside. Underneath was what looked like a trap door. Sam pulled on the huge cast iron rings and the heavy wood door creaked open to expose a long staircase leading down into a dark room.
Dean's pacing slowed until he was just standing in the middle of the room. His whole body ached and he was so tired that if he wanted to he swore he could have fell asleep right then and there on his feet. He caught sight of the old rotten single bed in the corner. Hell even that looked inviting right now.
Damn his body. He felt betrayed by it. It was shaking, his teeth were chattering, his movements were slow and un-coordinated, his eyesight was swimming on and off and though he would hate to admit it he felt as weak as a kitten.
"Gotta get warm. Gotta keep moving." Dean muttered to himself and restarted his pacing. His arms and legs felt as heavy as lead and the hand that was holding the shotgun was starting to burn from the coldness of the metal. Put the gun down Dean before it burns through your hand! He nodded to himself. Yeah good idea put the gun down. He knelt down to the floor and then paused. Hang on, why the hell am I kneeling? What was I doing?
Dean stood back up his hand still clasping the gun firmly. Where the hell was Sam? He walked slowly over to the door and tried to open in. Locked. What the hell? Why is it locked? He dropped the gun as he started pounding on the door, "Sam? Sammy!" he yelled through the door.
The dark room smelt musty and the air was thick and stuffy. Sam crinkled his nose and tried not to breathe anymore than he had to. The ladder creaked under his weight and he prayed it wouldn't fall through.
"That's the last thing I need is to be trapped down here with Dean trapped up there." He muttered as he jumped the last few steps and landed in a cats crouch on the ground.
Pulling his pocketsize flashlight out of his back pocket he quickly scanned the room, gun raised and ready. It was just like the rest of the house. Old, broken and dirty. The floor alone had to be covered in at least an inch thick layer of dust. It was a pretty big room.
Moving into the middle of the room he let his hunter instincts engrave this place into his memory. There was a work bench spaning the entire right side which was covered in old tools. The wall in front of him had what looked like a large meat freezer and to his left was a rotted old couch, the springs sagging and protruding at weird angles.
Sam turned to his left again as something floated past him. His heart quickened but when he saw the familiar outline of Donald he took a breath of relief. Convinced there was no immediate danger in the room Sam lowered his gun slightly and went to look at the work bench.
Tools were haphazardly placed over it and there were what looked to be renovation papers, blueprints and such littering the top. What caught Sam's eye however was thick leather bound book on the top shelf. His curiosity getting the better of him he reached up, thanking whoever was tall in his family for the height, and pulled it down. The top, like everything else in the room, was covered in a layer of dust but he could clearly make out the golden initials D.R in the corner.
"Donald Rhodes." he whispered in realization and turned to see where his new ghosty friend was. Donald was floating near the meat freezer, silent tears sliding down his transparent face. He looked up to meet Sam's gaze and pointed to the freezer.
"Your daughter?" he asked the ghost who replied with a nod. Sam slowly made his way to the freezer, waited for the ghost to move and opened the old door, the rusty hinges squeaking.
He had started pacing again when he realized that the door was not going to give anytime soon, but his movements were becoming less coordinated. Some whiny little voice in his head was screaming hypothermia at him, but that couldn't be right could it? His gun was on the floor near the door. When did that get there? He tried to make his way over to it to lie down, just for a little while, but the room tilted and he found himself face first up against a wall.
"Haven't we met before?" Dean asked the wall groggily. He knew there was something that he was supposed to be doing but what it was he couldn't for the life of him think what it was. He shrugged, pushed away from the wall and swayed into the middle of the room.
"It's gettin' cold in here. So put on lots more clothes!" he sung under his breath. That was random, where the hell did that come from! Sounds like something Sammy used to sing when he was trying to piss me off. Sammy!
The thought of his little brother made Dean try to compose himself somewhat but he just couldn't focus on anything. Besides Sammy was in college wasn't he? Wait, if Sammy was in college, then where the hell was his father? Maybe he was just waiting for Dean in the car. Yeah that made sense. But hang on, weren't he and Sam doing a job here? Something to do with frozen people. Dean frowned, his thoughts were running amuck and he couldn't seem to grasp one longer than a few seconds.
The temperature couldn't possibly get any lower, of that Dean was sure. He was starting to feel his blood freezing inside his veins. The pain was excruciating and he pulled his eyes shut tightly. Breathing became a task on its own. Not only with the pain his ribs and back was in but the air was so cold it burnt all the way down his throat and into his lungs. Okay so maybe it can get colder. He pulled his arms around himself to try and ward of the brutal cold but it didn't seem to be having any effect.
He could feel his organs hardening inside of him, and his heartbeat was getting slower. He swore he could feel every thump and every liter of blood trying to move around his body to keep him warm. Though by the numbness in his feet and hands he guessed his body had chosen to ignore those parts of him and just try to keep his torso warm.
The hunter dropped painfully to his knees. His breath was coming out quick and shaky and he could see it in front of his face in small white bursts of mist as he pulled his arms tighter around himself.
It was a fruitless attempt to keep his body warm but he was way past thinking and his body had thrown itself into survival mode. Most of his thoughts flittered out of his ears and his mind went blissfully blank for the most part.
"He's going to be even more fun than you." That cold voice came back and Dean felt his heart constrict with fear. He knew that voice. That was the damn reason he was here with Sam after all.
A happy face, with a bright smile and dimples flashed in front of his face. Sam! Oh god it was going after Sam! The brutal reality of what was happening hit Dean with the force of a sledgehammer. He had to get up. He had to save Sammy.
It took nearly all of his self control but Dean managed pulled his hands from his sides and put them palm first on the ground underneath him and pushed himself up and onto his knees.
Once he was on his knees Dean positioned himself against the wall so he could use it as leverage and pulled himself to his feet. When the roomed stopped spinning he made his way unsteadily to the door. Grabbing the cold handle and giving it a good push the door opened.
"You touch one hair on his head and you'll wish you never came back to haunt this shithole." Dean muttered und his breath, "I'm coming for you Sammy."
Okay so another little cliffy but I have a headcold at the moment. Total bitch of a thingand I'm in pain! I tend to be mean when I'm in pain. But anyway thanks for reading and hope I havn't dissapointed anyone. It's like a split chapter kind of thing. You'll see what I mean in the next chapter. In the meantime please let me know what you think.
Mishka xXx
