3

"So what'd you find out about this place, Sam?" Dean stared up at the warehouse. It was huge and rusting at the edges. Traffic hummed behind him and his brother.

"Well, there's plenty on this place in the ghost-hunting forums." Dean made a disgusted snort. Sam ignored it. "So that means plenty on current sightings, theories, the juicy stuff. But less on the history." Sam had the same opinions as Dean about "ghost hunters". He just wasn't gonna let Dean know that. "The most I could get was an article from about 30 years back. Some kind of industrial accident. No names, just a date and one unnamed casualty."

"So who's the guy?"

"Well, mainly some blue collar guy -and I mean actually, blue- who frightens off school kids. Not violent."

Dean frowned, "So why are we here if the guy's not dangerous? We've got the whole town to choose from."

"Well, according to eyewitnesses there's another apparition. A 'ghost boy' who shows up all over. Not tied to one location. And unlike the other guy he's caused some mayhem."

"Geeze, what kid dies and has that much anger on hand?"

Sam opened the trunk. "I dunno, ask Leticia's kids."

"Nah. Those freaks were messed up way before they died." Dean maneuvered over to Sam, pocketing a few salt rounds out of a duffle bag. "You still haven't told me why we're here."

"That's because you interrupted me." Sam gave Dean a bit of a shove. "As I said, the 'Ghost Kid' shows up all over but there's a few spots he show's up the most. The first is a city park a few blocks north. Then an old diner that no one's bothered to close down. And this place." He pointed up at the warehouse.

"So why'd we go here instead of the diner? Could've used a burger…"

"First of all, most of the diner's reviews included the words 'food poisoning'." Sam pulled out a shotgun and shut the trunk. "Second, an abandoned warehouse is a lot less conspicuous."

Dean smiled and snapped the barrel of his revolver back into place.

The warehouse was barely lit, sunlight barely reaching Sam and Dean from the high, grimy windows. And that late faded fast in the late afternoon. Crates lay broken around them, looking less like the result of decay and more the casualties of a brawl. Still, everything looked quiet.

"Hey you think Wrestlemania practices here on the weekends?" Dean kicked a bit of splintered plywood.

"I don't think wrestlers clean after themselves," Sam pointed at a pile of boxes, perfectly stacked amid the chaos. Other stacks spread themselves throughout the room.

Dean locked the safety and holstered his gun. Reaching over he braced himself and quickly lifted a box. Then nearly fell over with the follow-through. Recovering for a second, he shook it then dropped the box to the floor. Flipping a flap open he grinned up at Sam. "Empty."

Sam stepped over, lightly kicking a few more boxes. "Sounds like they're all empty." He rifled through a few others just to be sure. "Why would someone stack a whole bunch of empty boxes."

"You think it's a drug thing?"

"Why would it be a drug thing."

"I dunno. Like Batman. And those stuffed rabbits."

"This isn't a comic book."

"Well with this many ghost sightings, drugs laced in the water would be a good explanation."

"Whatever. Place looks deserted. Guess the diner it is." Sam turned back towards the door they'd left open. Which then shut before either of the brothers could reach it. Instinctively they turned towards one another as the warehouse dropped in temperature. And with the cold, the figure of a man rose. He was dressed in rotting coveralls, ghoulish-looking and glowing blue in the last of the daylight.

"Beware! You have entered the domain of the Box Ghost! All who enter are contained here forevermore!"

Dean gave Sam a look. "Definitely a drug thing."