Author's Note: LONG TIME NO SEE!
I am alive! I am okay! But I am now a married woman! I'm so sorry I've been MIA for almost SIX MONTHS NOW. When I looked at the last time I updated a story I about fell out in the floor. I'm so sorry you've all had to wait so long. I'm going to try to get back to updating on a regular basis again, so please. If you've wandered away then come back home! I'm still here. I haven't given up on Emily's story, there is still so much I want to tell you guys about! Please read and review! Let me know you're still here! Let me know you don't hate me for disappearing and letting life get in the way! Love you all so much, and dammit I've missed talking to you guys!
"Dammit. Dammit. Dammit." I mumbled to myself. I'm going to be late AGAIN. I'm just praying I beat Mr. Smith into the office. Unfortunately my pencil skirt and wedges don't allow me to run, only briskly walk as I enter the Sandover Inc. building.
I slammed the elevator button over and over and over again, tapping my foot as I watched the numbers count down slowly.
"Running late?" One of the IT guys, Sam, asked.
"Yeah. Again." I sighed.
"Eh, it happens. Late night?"
"Yeah. Another fight with Luke." I said quietly. Sam smiled at me slightly. He and I usually wander in around the same time, catching the elevator up together.
Just then it dinged and the doors opened. Sam stuck out his arm and let me step on just before him. Then he leaned down slightly.
"You know, you don't have to take his crap Emily. If he can't see what he's got then you deserve more."
"Thanks Sam." I smiled as the doors opened to the tenth floor and he stepped off.
"Have a good day Emily."
I rode the elevator the rest of the way up to the twenty-third floor and stepped off. Instantly taking the chai latte to Mr. Smith's office. I knocked twice and pushed the door open.
"Hey Emily, good timing I just walked in." He smiled then set his briefcase down on the desk.
"Well I'm glad to hear that! Are you ready for your meeting this morning?" I asked handing him his morning drink.
"I think so. I went over the spreadsheets again last night. I think that we can really save the man up top a lot of money and trouble if we can just get him to agree to make a few adjustments."
"I'm sure he'll see how hard you've worked, and that this makes sense. I got faith in you." I smiled softly.
"Thanks Emily. I wouldn't be able to do it without your help."
"No way. This was all you, Mr. Smith."
"Emily. Did we not agree to call me Dean?"
"Dean." I nodded. Then turned to walk away after pushing my hair behind my ear.
"Hey, Wait…" He called me back over. Oh no… He saw it. I uncomfortably pulled my sleeves as far down as they would go.
"Emily. I thought you told him to get lost."
"I did." I whispered. "But he was so sorry…"
"Sorry enough to do it again? Let me see your arm."
I rolled up my sleeve, showing the handprint bruise that wrapped around my forearm in a dark purple tint. Just above the one that was finally turning a yellow hue. Dean inhaled a deep breath and held it before releasing, sliding my sleeve back down before meeting my eyes.
"Is he gone?"
"No." I whispered. "I crashed at my friend Jo's last night."
"Who's the apartment under?"
"Me."
"Then why the hell is there and you're not?!"
"Because it was just easier for me to leave."
"He's leaving. Today. Either by choice or in cuffs."
"Dean, you have to give any tenant of the residence a 30 days notice by law before evicting them."
"But his name isn't on the lease!"
"It doesn't matter. He can prove he's lived there so by law he's a tenant."
"That's fine. We don't need the police. I'll contact the security guys, Bobby will have a crew over there by the end of the day and he won't be back."
My eyes watered as I slowly sat on the edge of the desk.
"Dean. Please I don't want to get anyone else involved in this… I can get rid of him. I just. I didn't want to escalate things any further last night."
"If he isn't going by choice, then you call me. Deal?"
"Deal." I finally surrendered.
…
I stood in line at the coffee cart tapping my foot, looking at my watch impatiently with my bag of chips in hand.
"That looks very nutritious." A voice called from behind me. I turned to find Sam smiling behind me.
"Dean is getting out of his meeting in 30 minutes and I'm in a hurry to meet up with him, I'm dying to know how it went."
"Come on… I brought enough for two." He said as he nodded me over to a table in the courtyard. He unzipped his lunch bag and handed me half his turkey sandwich, I opened my bag of chips and set them in the middle of us.
"Thanks… again." I laughed.
"Anytime."
"So, how goes the crazy dream streak?"
"Don't even ask… it gets weird." Sam mumbled.
"Ooohhh. Do tell."
"Last night I had a dream that I saved a reaper named Tessa from demons."
"A reaper? Like scary dude in a black robe reaper?"
"Uhhh, no. She looked like me and you. I told you it was weird."
"Eh, could be weirder."
"So how's it going with Mr. Smith? You think you'll be up there for a while, or that they'll ship you back to the mail room?"
"I hope they keep me." I sighed. "Dean is super nice, very respectful. He has a bright future in this company, hopefully if I do my job correctly then I can move up along with him. I would probably cry if I had to go back to the mail room and work with that creepy Ian dude again."
"Haha, Ian isn't so bad… just a little. Horny." Sam laughed.
"Yeah yeah yeah."
"Any of the guys up top give you a hard time?"
"A few of the older guys, especially the bald guy, Dean's boss? But I don't want to make things hard on Dean, so I've just kind of avoided the guy as much as possible."
"I understand that, but if it goes too far you gotta tell someone. Promise?"
"I know. I promise."
"Alright… you got ten minutes to get back upstairs. Good luck."
"Thanks Sam."
I rode up the elevator excitedly, knowing that Dean had done well, it was just a feeling in my gut. When the doors opened I met eyes with him in the hall, he smiled and raised his eyebrows, discreetly telling me how well things had gone since he was surrounded by a few of the other men from the big office.
"Well Dean, I'm very impressed with you. You did good son." Mr. Adler praised as he put a hand on Dean's shoulder as they walked towards me.
"Well thank you, I must say though, my assistant Emily here has been a huge help, Emily this is Mr. Adler." Dean introduced us. Unfortunately we already knew each other… Mr. Adler gave me the creeps. Always have. Always too friendly when I delivered his mail, and even more so when I moved up to be Dean's assistant.
"Oh this one, she's special." Mr. Adler said turning his attention to me. Shit.
"Thank you, I really just have a great guy to work for and that makes all the difference." I said smiling to Dean.
"Well then I'll let you two get back to it, Dean. I'll be in touch with an answer from the man up top."
"Yes sir. Thank you." Dean said shaking his hand as he walked away.
Dean and I stepped into his office, and he turned around picking me up and spinning me in a hug. I giggled slightly.
"I'm sorry! I just… That could not have gone any better!" He said as he put me down.
"It's fine, Dean. I knew it would! So what do we need to finish up on for today?"
"Well… if you could get those reports from IT finished today then you're free to go. I'm probably gonna be here late anyways. But you don't have to stay."
"You sure? I don't mind."
"Nice try… you're busy tonight and you know it. I'm serious. You call me if he gives you even a hint of trouble about leaving."
"Okay, promise." I nodded as I stepped out. I went back to my much smaller office next door to Dean's and began pulling reports from IT. Which thankfully only took a couple of hours. I was out of the office by 3. Luke gets off work in a couple of hours.
I rushed back to the apartment and began packing his things into trash bags and boxes that I found laying in the closet. All of his clothes. His stupid sports trophies. His stupid sports magazines. Everything that said "Luke" cleansed from my home. It hurt.
But it hurts more to walk into your own home every day scared of what will come next.
My phone dinged. A text from Jo.
JO: Hey, need me to come be back up? He should be home anytime now.
Emily: No. Let me handle this one. Hey… I know this is kinda weird, but if you haven't heard from me in an hour. Call my boss, Dean. I'll attach his number.
JO: Dean? As in sexy boss Dean? As in please blindfold me with your tie and bend me over your desk Dean?
Emily: JO! Stop! That is my boss.
JO: Yeah, yeah. I'll be waiting for your call. You better call!
Emily: I will. Promise.
I laid down my phone and then picked it back up again… I slipped it into my nightstand drawer, just incase he gets vindictive. I continued by going around and grabbing my most valuable items and hiding them in random places.
Until I heard the front door open. I stepped out of the bedroom, and met him in the kitchen.
"Hey babe." He smiled as he walked towards me with roses in hand.
"Luke. Stop." I said crossing my arms and backing up.
"Em, come on. You know it was just a stupid little fight."
"I told you not to touch me again." I said quietly.
"I was drunk baby. I didn't mean it."
"I don't care." I said looking down at the floor. "You have to leave."
"Leave?!" He scoffed. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"No. I packed your things." I said as I looked towards the couch in the living area. He followed my line of sight, then threw the flowers at me.
"Fuck you Em. I mean seriously? Where the hell am I supposed to go?"
"Call your mom." I shrug.
"She lives over an hour away. I have a job and shit here in the city."
"Not my problem." I said folding my arms a little tighter. Hoping that if I kept my bluff going he'd buy it and just go… but the look in his eyes wasn't reassuring.
He went to the fridge. Popped the top off of a beer and began slinging things out of the cabinets.
"LUKE! Stop!" I yelled jumping in front of him and pushing him backwards. He shoved me against the counter.
"No! This is my fucking apartment too! You can't just throw me out."
"Yes I can. I made the lease. I can do whatever the hell I want." I bluffed.
"Fuck you. I ain't leaving. You can fuck off."
"Luke, I mean it. LEAVE."
"Or what? You gonna make me?" He asked getting right up in my face.
Just then a knock on the door caught his attention.
"Who the hells there?!" He screamed. No reply. Just three more knocks. Slow. Steady.
Luke stomped over to the door and ripped it open.
"Dean." I whispered as his eyes met my tear streaked cheeks.
"You must be Luke he looked up and smiled."
"Who the hell are you?"
"I'm Detective Branch, and I'm here to make sure you leave the property with no hassles for this young lady." He smiled as he held up a badge. Damn that shit looks real.
"What?!" Luke asked looking between Dean and I. "You know this guy?!"
"Like I said… you have to leave. Now." I replied.
"Man. This is some fucking bullshit." Luke said as he tossed his beer towards the kitchen, missing me by only a couple feet.
"HEY." Dean yelled. "Knock it off or you're leaving in cuffs."
Luke grabbed his bags and stomped his way down the halls, then the stairs. The sound of his heavy boots on the steps were more relieving then I thought they would be.
I leaned against the counter and held my hand to the bridge of my nose.
"I'm so so so sorry Dean." I began to whimper.
"Whoa whoa, no it's okay. I got a call from your friend."
"I'm sorry. I didn't even realized it had been an hour since I talked to her. I should have texted her back."
"No way. He wasn't leaving. You made the right call."
"Nice badge." I smirked.
"Yeah, borrowed it from a friend."
"Thanks for coming by, I know you're super busy tonight."
"No, it's fine. I was finished at the office anyways."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely. Dinner? We can celebrate the meeting today."
"I need to clean up around here." I said looking at the mess in the kitchen.
"Well, here, let me help and we'll be out of here in no time."
"No, Dean. I can't let you do that. You've already done so much. I'm just gonna stay in tonight, incase he comes back."
"Do you want me to stay for a while?"
"No, Dean. Really I'm okay. He's gone. I'm just gonna clean up and go to bed. I'll see you in the morning."
"Okay, call if he shows back up."
"I will."
"Goodnight, see you in the morning."
"Night Dean." I said as I closed the door behind him.
I walked back into the kitchen and shrank into the floor with the broken plates and took a deep breath. Trying to figure out what's next…
….
Cop cars were everywhere. City coroner? What the hell is going on?
I walked up the steps into work and people were all whispering, a few crying. Reporters from local news stations were being cock blocked by security. I kicked up the speed a little, but this morning I didn't meet Sam at the elevators. What the hell is going on?!
I got on and hit my normal floor. But the elevator first stopped at Sam's floor. I held my breath as the coroner rolled a body past the open doors as people climbed on. I pushed my way off, in search of Sam. But first I spotted Dean. I rushed over to him.
"Dean. What's going on?!"
"I'm not sure you wanna know."
"Where is Sam?" I said looking around.
"Who?"
"My friend. Sam. He works down here."
Just then I met eyes with him, giving him a relieved smile, he looked at me worried, then away again.
"Is that him?"
"Yeah." I nodded. "So who was it?"
"I don't know… some guy named Paul. Blew himself up in the microwave."
"I'm sorry… WHAT? Paul Dunbar?!"
"Yeah, Yeah… that's him."
"Dean… he was gonna retire in two weeks."
"Something about this isn't right. C'mon." Dean said as he led me back to the elevator and up the stairs to his office where we began searching through Paul's personnel files.
"I don't get it Em… why would someone who is two weeks away from retirement do something so gruesome?"
"I don't know. Paul usually was laid back. Friendly. I don't get it… I'm gonna go down and check on Sam. See if he knows something I don't."
"Okay. Hey, did Luke come back last night?"
"No. It was quiet. Thanks again." I smiled as I walked out the door.
I got back on the elevator and rode down to Sam's floor again, then wandered the cubicles until I came across his.
"Hey." I said crouching down beside him. "How you holding up?"
"I'm. I'm confused. I mean. He was fixing to retire?"
"I know. He should have been happy right?"
"Yeah. What's the word up top?"
"There isn't one really. Just… a lot of speculation. I told Dean I was gonna come down and check in on you, see if you knew anything."
"I wish I did. All I know is he was acting kind of weird yesterday."
"Weird like how?
"Like he was stressed about, trying to get something done."
"Do you know what?"
"No. But now Ian is freaking out too."
"Ian? Horny Ian?"
"Yeah."
"Dude that guy never worries about anything up here. He waltzes around like he owns the place."
"I know. But he's acting weird. I'm kinda worried about him."
"Well, let me know if we can do anything okay?"
"Yeah. Will do Em. Be careful."
"You too."
I went back up to Dean's office and filled him in on what Sam had informed me. He seemed as lost as I did about the whole thing… but something just. Isnt' sitting right. Something about this feels… familiar. Why am I not terrified? Why am I stuck on this? Why can't I let it go?
Why can't Dean?
Just then a knock came on the door.
"Hi. Ian, is it? Yeah, come on in. Yesterday you filled out a 445-T and no problem, just a few errors when we did your switch over to Vista. So I'm sure you're used to filling out the dash-R's, am I right?" Dean said handing him a file that I pulled yesterday.
"Oh, no." Ian moaned.
"No no no. It's fine. It's fine. I just need you to redo one today so I can get the show on the road with the invoicing."
"Oh my god." Ian trembled.
Dean and I shared a concerned look it.
"Ian it's fine. Just refile it and we're square." Dean said kindly.
"I can't believe I did this." Ian shook his head.
"Ian, come on. It's fine." I reassured him.
"I can't believe I—I can't believe I did this." He continued to ramble. I looked up to Dean. Something was wrong. And he knows it.
"Hey, guy, come on." Dean smiled at him.
"No, no. It affected profits. It—I screwed up. I—I can't—I can't—I am so sorry. I—how could I do that? I failed Sandover. I failed the company."
"All right, why don't you sit down, Ian?" I offered pulling out a chair.
"No." He said running out of the office, Dean got up and ran after him.
"Ian? Ian. Hey."
I followed until Dean rushed into the bathroom behind him.
I waited outside the door…
"Somebody help me!" Dean yelled after a minute. I rushed in, seeing Ian with a pencil shoved through his neck and a panicked Dean holding him on the ground.
…..
More cops.
Another body bag.
More questions. This time for Dean and I. Dean had answered all the police questions without falter. But something had shaken him up. I saw it on his face.
"Get your buddy up here. Now." He said as he slid back into his office. I stepped over to my desk and dialed downstairs.
"Tech support, this is Sam."
"I need to see you in Dean's office. Now."
Sam hung up before replying. I stepped into Dean's office where he was buttoning up a new shirt. His was covered in Ian's blood.
"He's coming."
Just a moment later Sam comes through the door.
"Come in. Shut the door behind you." Dean told him walking around to the front of his desk. Sam shut the door quietly and made his way further into the office. I leaned against the desk. Feeling again… something similar to Déjà vu. Something about the three of us being together? I just don't get it.
"So now… Who the hell are you?" Dean asked.
"Sam Wesson. I started here three weeks ago."
"All right. You cornered me in the elevator talking about ghosts. And now..."
"Wait what?" I asked. But Sam just replied.
"Now what?"
"Now nothing. I, uh...so you started working here three weeks ago, huh?"
"Yeah, me too."
"And me…" I added.
Fucking. Weird.
"When you were in that bathroom with Ian, did you see something?"
"I don't know. I don't know what I saw."
"Dean you must have seen something. I've never seen you so shaken up." I interjected.
"Well.. maybe."
"Wait. Are you saying that—did you see a ghost?" Sam asked.
"I was freaking out. The guy penciled his damn neck."
"You did, didn't you? Okay, listen. What if these suicides aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something not natural?" Sam began to ramble.
"So, what, ghosts are real? And they're responsible for all the dead bodies around here? Is that what you're telling me?" I then asked.
"I know it sounds crazy. But yes. That's what I'm telling you."
"Uh-huh. Based on what?" Dean responded.
"Instinct." Sam answered after a moment of silent contemplation.
"I've got the same instinct." Dean nodded.
"Ditto… something's off here guys."
"Seriously? You know those dreams I was telling you about? I was dreaming about ghosts." Sam said turning to me.
"Yeah. I remember." I nodded.
"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 then asked.
"No. I mean, that would be nuts. I'm just saying something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So I've been digging around a little."
Sam then pulled a stack of papers out of his shoulder bag.
"I think I found a connection between the two guys." Sam spoke again as he laid out the papers on the desk.
"You broke into their email accounts?" I asked as I skimmed the emails.
"I used some skills that I happen to have to satisfy my curiosity."
"Nice." Dean nodded.
"Yeah. Okay. So it turns out Ian and Paul both got this same email telling them to report to HR, room fourteen forty-four."
"HR's on seven?" I questioned.
"Exactly."
"Should we go check this out?" Dean suggested.
"Like right now?"
"No. No, it's getting late. You're right."
"I am dying to check this out right now." I interjected.
"Right?" They simultaneously turned and replied.
The three of us were making our way down the hallway on the fourteenth floor when we heard the faint sound of someone screaming.
"What the hell?" I mumbled as I stood still for a moment and listened, grabbing Dean's arm to get his attention.
"What?"
"Did you hear that?"
Suddenly another scream erupted, the three of us took off down the hallway in search of the room, only to find the door to be locked.
"Dammit!" Dean shouted as he shook the handle.
"Move." Sam demanded as he reared back and kicked down the door.
"Whoa." Dean breathed before we rushed in, finding an IT guy with a shelf laying on top of him. Sam and Dean rushed to lift it off.
"Dean look out!" I yelled as an old man appeared out of nowhere. Dean is instantly flung into the air, Sam shoved to the side. I picked up a large wrench and charged at him from behind, swinging it wildly, but when I expected it to make contact the man again vanished like wind beneath the wrench.
Sam and Dean rush to release the man, who runs out of the room in panic and fright.
"How the hell did you do that?" Sam turned to ask me.
"I… I…" My breathing became shallow and rapid. "I don't. I don't know."
"Whoa whoa whoa breathe." Dean said as he grabbed me by the arm.
"It's okay. We're okay… lets get the hell out of here."
….
"Holy crap, dude." Dean shook his head as he lead us into his amazingly nice apartment on the upside of town. This place was like four of my apartments.
"Yeah. I could use a beer." Sam sighed.
"Oh, sorry, man. I'm on the Cleanse. I got rid of all the carbs in the house." Dean replied.
"Hey. How the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?" Sam then turned to ask me.
"I don't know. I just. Acted."
"Crazy, right? And nice job kicking that door too. That was very Jet Li. What are you, like a black belt or something?" Dean asked Sam.
"No. I have no clue how I did that. It's like...we've done this before." Sam mumbled.
"What do you mean, before? Like Shirley MacLaine before?"
"No. 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."
"I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way." I shrugged.
"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. I don't know how else to explain it, 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 two? You ever feel that way?"
"I don't believe in destiny. I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though."
"All right, so, what do we do now?" I asked.
"We do what I do best, Em. Research." Dean smiled.
Dean sat at a desk in the corner on a laptop, Sam and I sat in front of another on the table.
"Oh, jackpot." Dean called out.
"What you got?"
"I just found the best site ever. Real, actual ghost hunters. These guys are genius. Check it out."
Dean got up and sat his laptop on the table and we slid ours out of the way.
"Instructional videos." Sam mumbled as he clicked on a link to Ghostfacers website.
"We know why you're watching." One of the two men began to speak. "You've got a problem. A ghost problem."
"A ghost-related problem. A ghost—it's like a ghost-adjacent pr—it's like a problem that's—and the ghost is—" The other man spoke. He's an idiot obviously.
"Whatever. You've come to the right place. The only decent place, really, because the Ghostfacers know how to solve it. Watch and learn."
"See, the first step in any supernatural fight: Figure out what you're up against."
Sam began typing on his laptop again, looking up the history of the company, suddenly the man from the office came across the screen.
"That's him!" I jumped up and pointed. "That's the ghost."
"P. T. Sandover. Died 1916. Devoted his life to his work. No wife, no kids. The article text visible next to the picture reads "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. / 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."
"Wow, okay. So slight workaholic. Maybe he's still here, you know, watching over the company, even killing for it." Dean guessed.
"Plus, turns out this isn't the first time people started killing themselves in the building. 1929." I said pointing to another news article on the screen.
"Yeah, but lots of guys jumped off lots of high rises that year." Dean shrugged.
"How many companies had seventeen suicides?" I countered.
"Phew. 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—" Sam added.
"Is now. Yeah, now sucks. My portfolio's in the sewer. I don't even wanna talk about it."
"So Sandover's helping the bottom line—"
"By zapping some model employees." I concluded.
"Yeah. I mean, Ian and Paul. It was like he turned them into different people." Sam nodded.
"Perfect worker bees, exactly. So devoted to the company that they would commit hara-kiri if they failed it." Dean agreed.
"One more interesting fact. The building wasn't always that high. Used to be fourteen floors. And the room where the ghost attacked, fourteen forty-four? Once upon a time, that was the old man's office."
We went back to the Ghostfacers site.
"Once you've got that thing in your sights— You kill it. Using special ghost-hunting weapons. First, salt. It's like acid to ghosts. Next up, iron." Ed and Harry continued.
"That's why the wrench worked." I mumbled outloud.
"Pure power in your hand. Dissipates ghosts instantly. Next little trick. We learned this from those useless douchebags— That we hate. The Winchesters. Gun. Shotgun shell. Pack it up with fresh rock salt. Very effective. Winchesters still suck ass, though. Affirmative. Suckage major."
"Where do we even get a gun?" Dean asked.
"I have one that my daddy gave me before I moved to the city. Don't tell anyone though… its kind of illegal." I said as they both gave me weird looks.
"Right. Back to the video." Dean nodded.
"The aforementioned super-annoying Winchester douchenozzles also taught us this one other thing. You have to burn the remains. Okay, this next part gets a little gross. Sometimes you might have to dig up the body. Sorry. It's illegal in some states. All states."
"Sandover was cremated." Sam quickly pointed out.
"Crap. So what do we do now?"
Before anyone could answer the video continued.
"Now, if the deceased has been cremated— Don't panic. Just gotta look for some other remains. A hair in a locket, maybe. Fingernails. Baby teeth. Genetic material. You know what we're talking about. Go find it. Fight well, young lions. Godspeed."
….
"Set your cell phone to walkie-talkie in case we get separated." Dean advised as we rode up the elevator.
"How the hell are we gonna find some ancient speck of DNA in a skyscraper?" I asked.
"Well, that creepy storeroom used to be Sandover's office, right?" Sam offered.
"Let's do it."
Dean reached up and pressed the button.
Once off the elevator we quietly made our way down the hall and into the office. Sam begins rifling through a desk full of paper sand Dean and I started searching the shelves.
"What the hell are you doing here?" A voice made me jump. Sam froze behind the guard out of his sight, and Dean took my signal as I told him to lay low.
"Oh! Hey! How are you Craig?" I smiled cheerfully as I slid the gun to Dean before walking around to face him.
"Come with me. Now."
"Wait… Craig. Please I'm just working on a project for Mr. Smith. Trying to secure my spot and all you know? I really don't wanna end up back in the mail room." I said with a fake tear in my eye.
"Whatever. Tell it to the cops. You know you can't be in here. I'll lose my job for not turning you in."
"Craig… just. Think about it. What if you were on your evening break. And you had no idea I was here… Come on. I know your wife always meets you down in the parking lot with a cold turkey sub." I smiled kindly.
He stared at me and crossed his arms.
"I swear, This will never happen again. Or I will call the cops."
"What will never happen?" I winked before he turned and walked out the door.
"Damn! That was close." Dean laughed handing me back the gun after Craig was well out of hearing range."
"I'm not finding much… Let's split up." Sam suggested.
"Okay. Me and Em will go up."
"Okay I'll start downstairs since both guys so far were out of the IT department."
….
Dean and I were wandering the halls, looking for anything of historical value that could be linked to Sandover.
"You feeling better?" He asked me casually. "You've had a pretty eventful couple of days."
"Umm… I don't know. I mean. The Luke thing has been hard. And the ghost freaked me out… but I gotta say I kinda agree with Sam. Something about this feels like. Me? Is that weird?"
"I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore Em. I never pictured this being my life. I don't know how we would even do it?"
"I don't know." I shrugged. "Maybe its just losing Luke and discovering Ghosts all in one week… I guess I just don't really have a grip on reality right now."
"Hey. Check this thing out." Dean said looking over to a display up ahead of us.
Before I could reply Sam's voice cut in.
"Dean, Emily? You there?"
"Yeah, listen, I think we got it. Meet me on twenty-two."
"Okay, yeah. Just, uh, take the stairs. Don't get on any elevators."
Dean and I gave each other an odd look.
When Sam arrived we noticed the blood he was covered in from the chest up.
"Sam! Are you okay?!"
"Whoa. That's a lot of blood."
"Yeah, I know."
"Right. So, uh, in there." Dean pointed out the display case with P. T. Sandover's work gloves that we had discovered only minutes ago. "Yeah, how much you wanna bet there's a little smidge of DNA in there? You know, like a fingernail clipping or a hair or two? Something."
"So you guys ready?" Sam asked us.
"I have no idea." I sighed.
"Me neither." Sam said as he took out a container of salt and Dean pulled out the poker. I lifted my gun, with its salt shells loaded.
"Go for it." I nodded to Dean. He took a deep breath and smashed the glass. Suddenly a chill crept over me and I could see my breath.
"Guys…" I whispered. But suddenly Sandover appeared behind Dean and flung him against the wall. Then Sam. I lifted and shot. The bullet exploding and hitting sandover, causing him to dissipate.
"Nice!" Dean cheered as he got up.
"Hurry up before he comes back!"
"Emily look out!" Sam shouted. Suddenly something hit my chest and I was in the air, gun flying out of my hand and sliding across the floor. I coughed as I slammed against the wood work.
"HEY!" Sam shouted getting Sandover's attention. When he turned Sam flung salt through him and he disappeared yet again.
I struggled to get up again as Dean oured some lighter fluid over the gloves and then Sam dumped some salt.
"LOOK OUT!" I yelled as Sandover appeared and flung them both backwards. His hands lit up with electricity as he began to reach for Dean. I crawled over to the pack of matches laying on the ground.
"Sam! Catch!" I said before throwing them. Sam caught them deftly and set fire to gloves and we watched as Sandover flamed out and disappeared for good.
"That was amazing." Sam said out of breath.
"Right? Right?" Dean nodded excitedly.
I sat back against the wall and held my hand against my probably bruised ribs.
"You good over there kiddo?" Dean then called out.
Something about those words sat funny with me. Something. Familiar. Something… deep.
"Yeah. Yeah." I nodded him off and stood.
…..
"Man, I gotta tell you, I've never had so much fun in my life." Dean said as we entered his office. He went and pulled out the first aid kit from the drawer.
"Me neither." Sam smiled at me. I smiled back in agreeance.
"Was a hell of a workout too, wasn't it?" I asked.
"We should keep doing this."
"I know." Dean laughed.
"I mean it. There gotta be other ghosts out there. We could help a lot of people."
"Right, we'd be like the Ghostfacers."
"No, really. I mean, for real."
"What? Like, quit our jobs and hit the road? "
"Exactly." I smiled.
"How would we live?"
"Uh... "
"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?"
"That's all just details." Sam rebuttled.
"Details are everything. You don't wanna go fighting ghosts without any health insurance." Dean argued.
"All right. Um. Confession. Remember those dreams I told you about with the ghosts?"
"Yeah?"
"I was fighting them. With both you. We were these, like, hunters, and we were friends. More like 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?"
"That's insane." Dean shook his head.
"Is it?" I countered.
"Emily. You just told me less than an hour ago that losing Luke and discovering ghosts had you questioning your life. You really want to make rash decisions based on that? I mean. Look ar yourself. Your bruises are gonna heal and this time they don't have to come back. He's gone! Now we now that there are things out there that science can't explain. We have knowledge that can help us in THIS life. We can be safe. Prepared."
"Wait what bruises? Luke hurt you?" Sam then asked me.
"Oh she didn't tell you?" Dean countered.
"It doesn't matter!" I shouted and interrupted. "Think about it for just one second. What if we think this is our life, but it's not?"
"Hey, the ghost is dead and we're still standing. I mean, I'm sorry, but—"
"Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be." Sam interrupted.
"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. I have a life."
"When was the last time you talked to them? To any of them?" I asked.
"Okay, you're upset. You're upset, you're confused—" He said coming to put his hands on my arms.
"I'm fine Dean!"
"Look man, I only moved here 'cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number and I got a damn animal hospital." Sam then added.
"Okay. What are you saying? Are you trying to say that my family isn't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on."
"All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. 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. Both of you. And you know me."
"Know me? You don't know me, pal. You should go." Dean said crossing his arms.
Sam shook his head and left.
"Dean… please. Just. Think about this tonight. Okay? Just. Consider the possibilities." I begged.
"Emily. Go home. Get some rest. Tomorrow you'll feel more like yourself. Okay?"
"…. What if I don't want to Dean?"
….
The next morning I came to work later. Spending a little extra time laying in bed before deciding if I was going to even get up and show up. Or if I was going to pick up the phone and try to call my daddy again… sure that'd I'd get the same 'wrong number' message. Something isn't right.
But here I am. Walking up to the elevator. Going up to Dean's office. Latte in hand.
"Morning Em." He smiled at me. "I really think we can knock out those reports today if we work through lunch."
"So this is how we're gonna do this?"
"Do what?" He asked as I handed him his latte.
"Pretend last night never happened?"
Before he could respond a knock came to the door.
"Got a minute?" Mr. Adler said as he opened it.
"Sure, of course." Dean waved him in.
"I'll step out." I said quietly.
"Oh no, please don't leave on my behalf he smiled. Blocking my exit to the door. Fuck.
"How are you feeling, Dean?" He asked.
"Uh, great."
"You look a little tired. Been working hard, I gather."
"Yeah." Dean shrugged.
"Ah, don't be modest. I hear everything. And I'm pleased with what I'm hearing. That's why it's important to me that you're happy." Adler pulled out a pen and a piece of notebook paper, and writes down a five digit number. "How's that for a bonus?"
"That's very generous."
"Purely selfish. Wanna make sure you're not going anywhere."
"Wow. Are you sure?"
"Positive. You are Sandover material, son. Real go-getter. Carving your own way. And Emily here completes your team. You two together. It works."
"Well, thanks. We try." Dean smiled to me.
"I see big things in your future. Maybe even senior VP, Eastern Great Lakes Division. 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 looks up to me… and I can see it in his eyes.
Years. Ten 'short' years.
Come on Dean… See this. See that this isn't right. Something is off.
I saw the flicker. The change. The decision was made.
"Uh, well, thank you. Thank you, sir. It's, um...but... I am giving my notice."
"This is a joke. You're kidding me, right?"
"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." He nodded to me.
"Other work? Another company?"
"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."
Suddenly Adler looks between the two of us and smiles.
"What?"
"Dean, Dean, Dean. Finally."
Two fingers touch mine and Dean's forheads.
"What the hell? Why am I wearing a tie? My God, am I hungry." Dean said looking down.
"Omg… who the fuck wears shoes this tall?!" I bitched as I slid them off my feet. And since when do I have fucking spanx on?!
"Dean. Emily. Welcome back."
"Wait. Did I—did I just get touched by—you're an angel, aren't you?" Dean pointed out gathering what has just happened. I moved to stand closer to him at the word angel. He automatically pushed me behind him.
"I'm Zachariah. No need to fear. I'm not here to take her away."
"Oh, great. That's all I need is another one of you guys. What do you want then?"
"I'm hardly another one, Dean. I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here into one of these smelly things. But after the unfortunate situation with Uriel, I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row. And of course to apologize in person. Emily. We are truly sorry for the misfortune."
"Misfortune?! What kind of bullshit is that! Do you know what was taken away from her?!"
"We do."
"Well can you heal it?!"
"Unfortunately we cannot heal wound created by that particular knife… no."
"I am not one of your ducks." I then spoke up. Pushing my way in front of Dean. "I am not a fucking pawn. Or a weapon. I am not a fucking toy, used for your entertainment. I am a fucking person, and I want to be left the hell alone!"
"I'm sorry. We will interfere as little as possible but surely you understand that we can't just leave you alone? We have no idea what you'll do."
"Where is Judson?" I then asked.
"Oh.. yeah. Him." He rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. Suddenly Judson appeared in the floor of the room, bound and gagged.
"Oh my god! What the hell?" I said as I rushed down to him and began untying him.
"Well we couldn't have him interfering. Again."
"So what the hell was all this? Huh? You fuck with us just to shake things up? Hm? So you guys can have fun watching us run around like ass clowns in monkey suits?" Dean interrupted.
"To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. 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? The apocalypse, huh? Lucifer? What? Be specific, man."
"You'll do everything you're destined to do. All of it. But I know, I know. You're not strong enough. You're scared. You got daddy issues. You can't do it. Right?"
"Angel or not, I will stab you in your face." Dean replied angrily.
"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. 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. So for God's sakes, Dean, quit whining about it. Look around. 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?"
With that Zachariah was gone.
…..
The car was quiet. Too quiet to have four people riding in it. The darkness gave us an excuse to at least pretend we were sleeping. But we couldn't even do that correctly. We sat awake with our eyes wide open. Dean not even bothering to hum along to the radio.
I curled into Judson a little tighter.
"You okay?" He whispered.
"I'm fine Jud… Promise."
"You know we're gonna make it right Em? We're gonna be okay."
"Yeah. I guess."
"No guessing to it. You three together… you can do anything. You've already proven that to the world so many times. You just gotta keep your head up baby. We'll get through this. We'll get Dean through this."
"I love you." I looked up to him and whispered.
"I love you more."