AN: Reviews make me happy! Of course, after this chapter, people may not be very happy with me. No hate, please; I promise to fix everything!
Wildfire: Thank you, as always, for your kind words. Bad, bad Chase! Some answers coming in this chapter, I promise. What do you think about the first paragraph to the story? Good teaser, or too out there? You know I value your input!
Blondie: I know you're a Dean girl all the way, but I promise we'll see his POV in the next chapter, which will be up soon, because it's basically written and I just need to proof it. I'm always so happy to see your name, to know you're reading and to hear what you like so far. It really does affect what I write in the future.
Last chapter: He would never hear the end of it if something happened to Baby.
Sam sprinted through passageways and touched only every fourth step on his dash to get to the car. Not only was his brother insanely protective of the vehicle – and yes, Sam loved it too – he had the feeling that what he'd seen could give them insight into what was happening on this ship. As he ran down the last flight, he quickly surveyed the cars and located the Impala's long lines nearly immediately. He exhaled a sigh of relief. They had to walk through metal detectors to board, so the only weapons available were in the trunk. Sam knew Dean hated the feeling of being unarmed even more than he did, but it was still an odd sensation.
Chase climbed out of the car as Sam approached. "Hey, man, Chase, right? Whatcha doing?" Sam asked a little carefully. Chase's expression was off somehow, too flat to match the bubbly kid they'd met earlier. He looked like he was furious and doing everything in his power to appear calm. He didn't so much as glance up as he moved to the trunk and opened it. "Wait, wait, stop Chase." The kid still ignored him, at least until Sam touched his shoulder. Then, he spun around, throwing an arm out to shove Sam.
However, Sam had anticipated the move and jumped out of range. Chase put both his hands on Sam's chest and shoved. Sam was five inches taller and probably twice as heavy than the kid, so it was a shock when he flew 10 feet backwards to impact with a navy 2-ton pickup. Picking himself up off the floor, shoving down pain and slight dizziness, Sam went into defensive position, but Chase was back to rummaging through the trunk. "Chase, what the hell? Tell me what's going on." Something felt off to Sam. Chase wasn't giving off any witch vibes. In fact, despite the aggression, he didn't give off the impression of evil, either, just extreme focus.
Sam took a step closer, cautiously. Warm blood dripped down his neck, but he wasn't badly hurt, so he ignored it. That's when he saw something that brought him up short. Chase's reflection was clear in the darkened window of the Acadia that was parked just beyond Baby. But the reflection showed a compact, muscular man of Chinese descent wearing a stocking cap, gloves, and a dark, heavy coat. Chase was a gangly redhead in a white polo, but there was no doubt that the figure was his reflection, because its motions matched exactly. Well, shit. Ghost possession. And the weapons were in the trunk, which the possessed guy was currently blocking.
"Okay, not Chase. Who are you?" Sam held his hands up to appear non-threatening. Remembering what Kevin had said, he hunched forward a little, trying to look a little smaller.
"Find it," rumbled Chase in a voice that was far lower than the way he'd sounded earlier. He turned back and leaned in the trunk. Sam leaped forward and threw an arm around the kid's neck. He took a hard elbow to the side for his trouble but didn't let go. Chase backed up and slammed Sam into the Acadia hard enough that they broke off the side mirror. Possession made people strong, but it couldn't defeat physics. Sam was still far heavier than his opponent. Without letting go, he pushed off hard enough that they both fell sideways into the Impala's trunk.
Sam's shoulder took the impact of their combined weight, but they were where he wanted to be. He fought through the tangle of arms and legs to lean over Chase, who continued to fight and squirm. But Sam had reached what he wanted. His hand closed around the tire iron – and thankfully it was actually made of iron – as he took an elbow to the face. Undeterred, he laid the iron against Chase's hand. The affect was instantaneous. A brownish cloud that resolved into the man Sam had seen in the reflection puffed out of Chase's body. It swirled over toward Sam, but he was still holding the other end of the iron and it couldn't enter. With a high-pitched squeal akin to a teakettle, it flew out of sight.
Sam fell back, panting a bit. He was sure a number of places would hurt in a few moments, but he was more concerned with what their next steps needed to be. "Um?" came a tentative young voice. "What is happening?"
"Get out, Chase," said Sam wearily, pushing on the man's back to help him extricate himself. "It's kind of a long story."
Chase didn't really remember anything except an overwhelming need to find the Impala. He had no idea why. He did reveal that "everyone" knew that there was a ghost that made noises and sometimes blew lights out in the cargo hold area where the cars were parked, but he'd never heard of it doing anything more than that, and he didn't know whose ghost it might be or if it matched the appearance of the one Sam had seen. A bit dazed, the boy readily accepted the leather thong with an iron nail on it, tucking it obediently under his shirt to keep the iron against his skin. He also apologized repeatedly, eyeing the blood on Sam's collar and face. And he was more than happy to get out of there when given the option. "Go, find my brother and tell him where I am and what's going on!" Sam ordered.
For his part, Sam pulled on a necklace of his own and stuffed another in his pocket for Dean. He quickly tried to call, but as expected, there was no signal in the middle of a giant metal box. Sam wiped the blood off his face with the wet wipes they kept in the glove compartment, which seemed undisturbed, as far as he could tell. He looked over the rest of the car quickly and found nothing out of place. He pulled on the heavy jacket they'd stuck in the car for just this purpose and put a shotgun loaded with salt rounds in each of the long inside pockets, then loaded up on extra cartridges.
Sam grabbed a few other odds and ends from the trunk because he honestly had felt naked without his weapons, and decided to do a quick inspection of the walls to look for any kind of binding sigil that someone might use to call a spirit or force it to do his or her bidding. He didn't want to rule out a witch entirely. He was also trying to evaluate the ghost's actions. Why would it want the Impala? If it were powerful enough to possess people, why were its only manifestations making noise and nuisance actions? And it couldn't be killing the people once they left – ghosts were tied to a place, so chances were good it was tied to the ship.
As he looked at the final wall, there was a flash of movement at the corner of his vision. He spun with one shotgun out, but a split second too late. The boom rang out at the same time Sam was propelled sideways. It felt like he'd been body checked by a sumo wrestler. The same, abused right shoulder hit the wall and he barely held onto the shotgun. The next pass, Sam shot center mass, dissipating the ghost and giving him the chance to regain his feet. Keeping his back to the wall because this was a whole freaking lot easier with someone to watch his back, he inched toward the staircase. He felt uneasy when he made it the entire way without another sighting. A ghost with the ability to possess someone was powerful enough that it should be able to reappear soon after being salted.
Three quarters of the way up the steps of the metal staircase, his worries were proved correct. He was watching carefully, but he'd overlooked one critical detail. The ghost had acted on items physically every time he'd seen it, but it was still a ghost and could pass through solid objects too. The mistake was painful, since the spirit reached up through the stairway, grabbed his ankle, and pulled with enough force that he flew forward. His chest crashed into the metal rail, then onto the steps. Another tug and he began to roll down. Sam barely caught himself with one hand on the rail, his head hanging down between the rail and the steps. The ghost appeared in front of him and he had time to notice two things: the necklace with the iron nail was outside his shirt, no longer touching his skin, and the ghost looked positively gleeful. Then it flew into him.