A/N: If this chapter is in caps or the writing is all weird let me know and I'll try and fix it. Dunno what happened to it last night.

Hey guys, sorry this is taking so long. I've just started Uni (as in last month) and i had to re-prioritise things writing-wise (stupid essays). Anyway, I have some more of this written and decided to post it. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Still dont own

Chapter 5

Knock, knock.

"Whadoyawant?"

Dean took a step back from the man who opened the door. The man's beady eye's glared down at Dean. Leaning against the doorframe Dean could see a shotgun, and he didn't miss the grouchy man's subtle reach for the weapon. Dean decided to make it quick.

"I've just been hired by the local newspaper, and I'm writing an article on all the ghost sightings. Do you have a spare minute to answer some-" Dean was cut off by a low growl.

"Do you think this is funny kid? It's just ghosts, and if you knew any better you'd mind your own damn business." The guys eyes were twitching and his fingers were caressing the muzzle of his gun.

"Now get the hell outta my face before I turn you into ya own ghost." The gun was swung up and was suddenly pointed at Dean's chest. Dean raised his hands in surrender.

"Ok, ok, I'm leaving." He edged backwards to the street and quickly climbed into the car. That man was a nut job, and Dean had a feeling he was hiding something.

Dean and Sam met back at the motel at noon. Neither had much to contribute to the research.

"Ok, spirits that hang around on our plane are usually here because of unfinished business. Do you think this could be the case?" Sam was pacing beside Dean who sat cleaning weapons.

"All those ghosts? Here because of unfishished business? It doesn't make sense. I mean they all died at different times right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I checked some records and the newspapers. Everyone who has died in the last two months has been sighted by loved ones since, and they all died at different times."

Dean put down the gun he was cleaning. "Well, no one wants to talk about it. They've all got ghost denial or something. This one lady damn near broke my nose with her door."

Sam choked back a laugh. "That's not like you Dean. I thought you were a lady's man."

"Yeah, well this one was a nut," Dean muttered. "But not like the grouchy man." He looked up at Sam. "That guy was hiding something, I know it. Overprotective was an understatement. Everyone else refused to talk, this guy threatened to blow out my brains."

Sam sat down opposite Dean. "So we'll check him out, we'll find what he's hiding. In the mean time… that's it!" Sam jumped back to his feet. "Ashley and Ben. He's a ghost and she's willing to talk. I could go talk to them, see if he has any idea of what's going on. You can look into what that man was hiding."

"Hold it one moment," Dean held up his hand to pause Sam's planning. "I'll go talk to Ashley and Ben, you can do research on the scary man."

"Dude, I always have to do the research, besides, you've already had one woman attack you today. I think you're better of with other guys."

Dean mock shuddered. "That's not even funny," he told Sam as he stood. "I think we should-"

"Rock. I win, and no best two out of three." Dean still took a defensive stance even as Sam turned his back. "C'mon Dean, I'm not challenging you to rock, paper, scissors."

Dean sighed and picked up the car keys and tucked his gun back into his jeans. Maybe I'll find a hot girl while researching…

For the second time that day Sam knocked on Ashley Jackson's front door. Within moments it was pulled open and Sam was greeted with a bright smile.

"Sam, you're back." Ashley stood back to allow the spluttering hunter to step inside.

"Ashley, I just wanted to ask Ben some questions. Um, you know, to ah, figure out what's going on." He stared at Ashley for just a little too long. Suddenly he thought of Madison, just like Ashley she had had an easy going smile and long brown hair. Her death was still so recent, Sam sobered up immediately.

"We need to find out why these ghost are suddenly appearing." He followed Ashley into the kitchen. "If they have something they need to do before they can move on, no one else really wants to talk to us."

"They're pretending we don't exist." Sam jumped at Ben's voice. He had just appeared in the doorway. "Mortedale is a close community, and this is so… unreal. So people are just ignoring it."

"Do you mind me asking how you died?" Sam stared intently at Ben's form. He'd never interacted with a spirit like this before. Usually it was just salt and burn and then on to the next case, but here was a spirit that was not only realised he was dead, but he wasn't causing any trouble, he wasn't terrorising some poor innocent, still, he wasn't moving on.

"I died in an industrial accident I guess. I was a builder, a wall collapsed on me." Ben's voice was barely audible as he spoke and his eyes seemed to trace the pattern on the tiled floor.

"Do you know what the building was for? Or who owned it?" Sam thought maybe he had found a link. Was it possible that the shop was built over some sacred ground? Or maybe the owner was into dark arts and raising the dead.

Ben looked in askance at Ashley. "We were working for a, uh, Mr Western?"

Ashley nodded. "Jack Western. He supervised the building of his store. It accommodates to hunters and the like, they come through here at certain times of the year."

Sam quickly jotted the name down. "Do you know if he was associated with any other deaths?" He looked up and found himself staring at Ashley again.

Ashley shook her head. "Not that I can recall."

Sam had to get out of there. Ashley was being so nice and helpful, but every time he looked at her he was reminded of Madison and how becoming involved with him had led to her death.

"Uh, well, thanks for your time." Sam stood. "Dean and I will be sure to check this out."

He let Ashley lead him to the front door, but hurried off before she had the chance to thank him.

Ashley let the words die on her lips and just smiled at the antics of the flustered hunter. She could wait.

………

Dean sat outside the hunting store owned by Jack Western. He wasn't ready to confront the man again just yet. Having a rifle shoved in you face tended to have a lingering effects on your confidence. Not that Dean would ever admit to something like that.

He had received a phone call from Sam asking him to check up on the man that may be responsible for the ghosts, and as his own target hadn't been at home, Dean had decided to check it out.

There was movement at the doors of the shop and out walked… his target. Dean hoped he couldn't be seen from the car but the man was heading directly towards him. Dean tried to play it cool. There was no reason for him to be suspected of spying on anyone. Lots of people parked their cars…

The man reached the car; one hand rested in his pocket the other… was hiding something under his jacket.

"Oh hell no!" Dean cried as the man retrieved a wicked looking knife from his jacket.

Dean hurried to start the ignition as the man reached the car. Over the roar of the engine Dean could see the man yelling profanities at him. As Dean pulled away from the curb a loud scraping filled his ears.

"Sonofabitch!"

Dean looked back behind the car. The man was grinning maliciously, his knife was held out towards the receding car. Dean swore he could see black paint dirtying the blade. That S.O.B had stabbed his baby!

As soon as Dean was in the next street he pulled over to inspect the damage.

"Oh Baby, you've been violated" he muttered as he traced the ugly scrape that ran from the headlights to the taillights. Shavings of black paint clung like congealed blood to the edges of the Impala's gaping wound.

"C'mon, lets get you back and fix you up." Dean climbed back into the front seat and stroked the Impala's dash all the way back to the hotel.