Feeling stuffed from dinner and praying I wouldn't have to do any running tonight, I reversed into a parking space and the three of us hopped out of my car. I made my way round the back and lifted up the false bottom of my trunk, grabbing my bag of supplies. Salt. Candles. A ton of iron pokers My 9 mil was tucked reassuringly in the waistband of my jeans. Gotta be prepared.

"You ready, Bill Murray?" Dean asked, taking the bag from my hands.

"Who ya gonna call?" I responded with a grin.

I hoped to every god there was that this went to plan. This kind of thing can turn nasty, I'd seen it first hand and cleaned up the mess more times than I cared. I was glad to have back-up tonight.

I took us inside through the out-patients' entrance, knowing it would be less busy than the main one, and took the long way to the storeroom using back corridors and service elevators. Didn't want anyone asking any questions or placing us at the hospital if anything went awry. My stomach was turning and my palms were sweaty, which was way off for me. It was normally second nature. I had a feeling that something wasn't sitting right with this, and unfortunately I was usually pretty intuitive that way.

We reached the door to the stock room and I paused, hand hovering above the handle. "We got each other's backs, right?"

"Of course." Sam answered, giving me a reassuring smile.

I pushed the door open with a creak and tried the light. Of course, nothing. I fished a flashlight out of my pocket and rested it atop a tall cabinet to shine some light while we unpacked the supplies. The room seemed only slightly more inviting when illuminated by the candles, and I shivered as cold air caressed my skin. I drew a circle of salt and we sat on the floor, encircling the Ouija board, weapons resting in our laps. Dean's hand resting lightly on top of mine on the Planchette.

"Anyone wanna go first?" I asked, awkwardly, looking between Sam and Dean. The former sighed.

"I'll go." He paused for a few seconds. "Hello?"

"Great start." Dean whispered. I nudged him in response.

"We're looking for someone. Someone who used to live here."

I looked at the board. Nada.

"We just want to talk, to find out what happened." I offered, gently. "Don't want any trouble. See, someone got hurt here, and we just wanna find out why."

The pointer quivered slightly.

I looked at the brothers. "Why? What did he do?"

"Come and talk to us, let us see you." Sam pushed, his hand moving for the iron poker.

"You lived here?" I asked, softly.

"Yes." The pointer hadn't moved this time. The room felt sub-zero and the candles flickered as the voice sounded from behind us. My hand went for my poker. Sam and Dean stood slowly, careful not to disturb the salt line.

"You and your family? How many?" I tried to sound casually.

The figure followed the outline of the circle to the front of us. He looked old, weather worn, his clothes looked ragged and dirty. "My wife. My six children." The voice was eerily soft and cold. "They called us wildlings, they cared for us not a bit. We were civilised, we never harmed a single other. The forest was our home, and they destroyed it."

"So you kill people? People who had nothing to do with the destruction of your home? Like Geoff?" Dean's voice was steady, but had an air of accusation.

"We are angry. Always angry. We had nowhere to live, no place to go. I stole away with some arsenic from the chemists' shelves. We had nothing to live for. They didn't even care to bury us."

Bingo. "What did they do with you? How did they disrespect you?"

The ghost laughed dryly. "They threw us in a heap and burned us." My stomach dropped. That made it harder. Way harder. I watched Sam shuffle his feet forward slightly, his boot scuffing the line of salt.

"Dean." I said, my eyes flitting to the salt line as subtly as I could.

I saw his jaw clench. He moved in front of me. "Look, man. We don't have a real home either, but we don't go round killing people for kicks. We can help you, get you out of this place and give you some peace." he lied, stepping forward. Then everything happened very fast. A gust of wind blew through the windowless room blew away the salt. I saw Dean reach for his salt-round sawn-off and move back to cover me. Seven more pale figures appeared from the walls and I was thrown back against the wall before I could even reach for my iron. I saw Sam thrown against some cabinets next to me. Shots from Dean's gun filled my ears as I struggled against the invisible force pinning me to the wall.

"Dean!" I managed to yell out as a apparition appeared behind him.

"Hey, ugly!" I heard Dean shout, followed by a gun shot. I found myself dropping to the floor with a thud. I dashed to my poker, reaching it just in time to slash away a ghost I assumed was a teenage son of our friendly ghost. I dashed past Sam, pushing him out of the way of young girl and slashing at the air where he chest was. Another came for me as I made my way to the bag of supplies, and I stuck the poker through his head, watching his smoky figure disappear and reappear a couple of seconds later next to Sam. I fumbled clumsily through my bag, looking for the salt, my head constantly turning to look behind. I felt a cold breeze whoosh past me and I duck and rolled under the table slashing behind me as I stood up

"Sam, Dean! Here! Now! I span round, pouring the salt in a circle big enough for three of us, but before I could finish, it was on the floor beside me, and I was being hauled across the floor toward the wall. We were outnumbered by five, and these guys were angry. I felt a white hot pain sear through my stomach, like I was being gripped by an iron hand that had been in a fire for an hour, and my eyes stung as my head hit the wall behind me. I couldn't move again, and cursed myself for letting my guard down enough that one of them got me. I didn't feel bad for long though, as I watched Dean pulled to ground and disarmed, too. He ended up next to me and Sam was by himself.

"Sam, the gun!" Dean growled, willing Sam to spin round and pick it up. He did, and Dean was released from his invisible chains and free to pick up the poker I'd dropped as I was being used to sweep the floor. With an adept slash to the side of him, I was released and free to find something to arm myself. None of us had any cover, there were too many and we were too close. I couldn't get to either them for dead forest-folk. I saw the dull glint of an iron poker on my left.

"Get to me!" Dean yelled through the noise of the perpetual wind that was howling through the room. How nobody had come down here I had no idea. I dashed toward the poker a few feet away and made my way to Dean, but I felt something pierce though the flesh of my stomach and something warm seep through my shirt. I couldn't even make a sound as I crumbled to the ground.

She'd almost made it back to Dean when the dad-ghost had appeared in front of her. She wasn't looking ahead, her eyes were fixed on the poker on the ground a few feet in front of her. He had something in his hand, something thin and wooden- a sharpened stick. He tried to call out but the wind took his breath away and with it his words.

He silently watched the spirit plunge his stick through Maya's stomach, and watched her face crumple in confusion before she realised what had happened. He mouth moved but she didn't say a word, she thudded to the ground and the room went quiet.

"Maya?" he heard Sam's voice from behind him and together they rushed to her side.

"Damn it, Sam, he got her."

"Get her up, we gotta get her upstairs. Grab the bag, I got her. " Sam hefted her into his arms and made for the door, Dean a few seconds behind, hurriedly grabbing his gun and her bag.

"Find her car keys, we need to get this stuff back into her trunk." Dean barked, his hand rifling through her black duffel bag.

"Try her coat." Sam offered, taking the stairs two at a time as they rushed up to the emergency room floor.

"Got 'em, I'll meet you in the ER."

Dean didn't look at his brother as they split up at the main corridor, Sam going left, himself going right. He could feel blood trickling from his forehead, warm and wet, and could feel the dull ache of punches in his gut and back, but he headed for the exit at a run. He reached her car in no time, and didn't even bother lifting the false bottom in her trunk, instead he tossed them on top of her spare, warm coat that she kept in the back, and couldn't help smiling briefly at the spare pair of black heels tossed lazily in the back.

She was hunting with them, and they were supposed to watch her back. She was so good when she was fighting, so quick, so strong. She kept up with them the whole time. If it have been him running toward her and not the other way around, he knew that he would have met the same fate that she did, and so would Sam. That made it worse, knowing that she couldn't have even tried to do it differently. He locked her Jeep and headed for the main entrance, where she knew they'd be, his heart pounding in his chest because he knew he was supposed to have her back, and he knew that he couldn't have done a single thing if he'd tried. He slipped his cell from his pocket, breathing heavily as the he listened to the dial tone.

"Hello?"

"Cas? Get down here. We're gonna need you."

Chapter Management