An hour after Gabriel's explosive wake-up call, Sam and Dean were sitting in a nearby diner, picking at their food. Well, Sam was. Dean was stabbing at his with his cutlery as if it had personally offended him, face like thunder. Even the waitress, who had given them both approving looks when they'd first walked in, was now giving them and their table a wide berth. Sam had given up trying to tell his brother to calm down and let Gabriel's latest antics go; it was like adding gasoline to a fire. Dean would just glower at him until he looked away, lips curled into the deepest scowl Sam had ever seen.

Dean would get like this every time Gabriel pranked him, not loosening up until he had an equally nasty idea to get revenge. Sam and Castiel had long since learned to take several steps back from the war raging between their brothers, knowing that it would only escalate dramatically should they get involved. Dean and Gabriel, it seemed, couldn't force themselves to get along unless they were arguing about something or planning ways to humiliate the other. But hey, that was better than Dean trying to Holy Fire the archangel into oblivion, or Gabriel making the hunter explode in a gory shower.

Thankfully Sam's ringtone cut through the horribly tense silence between them. Dropping his fork and trying not to look too pleased at the excuse to escape, he slid out of his seat and left the diner, lifting his phone from his pocket as he did so.

"Hello?" He answered once he was a safe distance from anybody within earshot.

"Hey, Sam. Listen, where are you boys now?" It was Bobby, and Sam still wasn't completely over the rush of relief that swept over him whenever he heard the older hunter's voice.

"Springfield, Illinois. Why?"

Bobby paused for a moment before saying, "Huh."

"What? What is it?"

"Weird. I've just dug up a possible case right on top of you."

Sam also paused, a frown beginning to slide onto his face. "You're telling me we chose to stop in a place that just happens to have a case?"

"Seems so."

Shaking his head and trying not to look too deeply into just how coincidental that happened to be, he spoke. "Okay, hit me with it."

Dean watched Sam's movements from the moment he stepped out of the diner from the window, fully abandoning his half-eaten breakfast. The call didn't last that long; within a few minutes Sam was snapping his phone shut but he didn't walk back to the diner. Instead, he caught Dean's eye from outside and inclined his head for his brother to join him. Only too happy to leave, Dean slid out of the booth and walked out after dropping a couple of notes onto their table. Sam burst into speech the moment Dean reached him.

"So get this, Dean," He began, and Dean's insides immediately lurched. He'd learned from experience that any sentence that began with or contained those words ended up in days of tedious research. "Bobby's found a hunt for us. Right here."

"Right here?" Dean echoed Sam's words. "As in right in this city?"

Sam nodded. "Yup."

Dean raised a sceptical eyebrow. "And that doesn't strike you as slightly odd?"

"Of course it does." Sam snapped, complete with bitchface. "But while we're here, we might as well check it out."

Barely suppressing a sigh, Dean shrugged. "Alright, what have we got?"

"Looks like a perfectly normal vengeful spirit." Sam replied. "Bobby said he's found all these stories over the past week or so about people going missing after they visit this place that's supposed to be haunted. Police haven't found a single body, and the building's totally clean."

"Any weird deaths happen anywhere near it?"

"Not that we know of. But that's something we'll have to look into."

Dean knew it was coming; it was only a matter of time. With the threat of research looming over his head on top of the already crap-tastic morning he'd had, he could already feel the beginning pangs of a headache.

"Alright. But let's check the place out first. See if we can find anything the authorities missed." Dean said as they reached the Impala. "Where's this newest ghost hotspot, then?"

"A house that's been empty for years." Sam replied. "Bobby's sending me the address."

They drove back to the motel first to change into their suits, and then set off for the house, following Bobby's instruction. And if Sam and Dean were already having bad feelings about this particular case, those doubts were cemented when they rolled into the right street. It wasn't that the house was immediately recognisable as the one they were searching for. What with its placing at the very end of the cul-de-sac with its boarded up windows and doors, tiles missing from the roof and overgrown, jungle-like front garden, it looked like something plucked straight out of a stereotypical horror novel. All it was missing was the fork of lighting shooting across the sky above it. But it wasn't just the cliché appearance of the house that set off alarm bells in both hunters.

It was that the house in question wasn't even that long a drive away from the motel they'd chosen to crash at; barely ten minutes. After all, out of all the states, and all the cities and towns within those states, and all the motels in those, the chances of stumbling across this hunt so locally were infinitesimally small. Dean was frankly surprised the words 'It's a trap!' weren't flashing above the house in bright, feet high, neon-lit letters.

"I'm telling you Sam, something's wrong here." Dean muttered as they climbed out of the car and set off along the street.

Sam nodded in agreement, but didn't verbally reply. In silence they hurried along the street, making note of the other houses on both sides. Surely one of their residents should have noticed something if nine people had gone missing in this one spot. They passed underneath the police tape sectioning the house off without hesitation, FBI badges ready in their pockets should anyone question them. But there was nobody around to do so; the place was eerily silent.

The door wasn't locked, so they made their way inside with ease and found themselves in a large square room, the smell of rotting wood thick in the air. It was devoid of all furniture and pitch black; the boards across the windows shut out all light. Sam reached into the duffel bag he'd brought with him and pulled out two torches. Throwing one to Dean, they flicked them on and glanced around. The inside of the building was as silent as the street outside; not even the wind whistled through the empty house.

And yet, there was a strange feel to the house. Everything had a tinny sort of scent to it, much like standing outside in the wake of a nasty thunderstorm. Almost as if there were lightning in the very air. It was strangely familiar. On top of that, Sam didn't know if it was his imagination or not and he sincerely doubted it was, but the hairs rising on the back of his neck told him they were being watched by something. And seeing Dean's eyes flicking in all directions, Sam knew his older brother was experiencing the same sensation, too.

Pulling out his handmade EMF meter, Dean began to make his way around the house, scanning everything with Sam right behind him. The dial didn't even twitch though, and the humming buzz never once peaked.

"Doesn't mean there's not anything hanging around here." He reminded Sam as he replaced the device in his pocket. "After all, it's at night when things like to come out."

"Yeah. Let's get out of here then, and we'll come back tonight."

As Dean had no other suggestions, they left the house but remained in the street, watching for any sign of movement. It was very boring, and even Dean was contemplating calling on Gabriel just to liven things up. Finally, thankfully, Sam decided they'd waited long enough and led the way back into the house. They expected this time to be a very different story but the thing was it wasn't. Everything was exactly as it had been the last time they'd entered the building, right down to the zilch on the EMF meter and the strangely familiar electrical buzz in the air.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered as they drove back to the motel. "So it's haunted, but there's no trace of spirit activity? People are vanishing, but there's nothing in there to suggest something's killing them?"

Sam shook his head, equally baffled. "It can't even be a Tulpa this time. No symbols, no geeky website, nothing."

"What the hell." Dean repeated, and Sam couldn't agree with him more.

The next day saw Dean staying at the motel, flicking through their father's old journal, mentally crossing off anything that he doubted could be lurking in the house. Although they had found no evidence of spirit activity, Sam had insisted on looking into the house's past, but found no reports of grisly deaths occurring anywhere nearby even as far back as fifty years ago. He then found the same newspaper articles Bobby had done, and that was how he discovered Matthew Adams. The teenager had been interviewed by the police regarding the disappearance of his twin brother, Andy, who had been the first person to vanish. Matt had stuck firmly to his story that he'd waited outside as his brother went in, only he didn't come back out and there were no noises to suggest he'd broken out the back. He'd just gone.

What caught Sam's attention most about the article was that Matt had apparently gone in first, alone, only to return unscathed. And then, not even two minutes later, his brother had been taken by something inside without a sound. It was a no-brainer what Sam's next course of action had to be. So he donned his suit again, and set out to find Matt Adams. It didn't take him long; the first woman he asked in the street said that ever since his brother's disappearance, all the teenager would do was sit on the same bench in the park, waiting for news.

It didn't take Sam long to be pointed in the right direction. It seemed that everyone he encountered had heard of Matt and his tragic story, and were only too happy to help in whatever way they could. And when Sam first spotted him, he couldn't help but feel a clench of sympathy. He was sat ramrod straight on the bench, knees against his chest and arms curled almost protectively around them. His eyes stared straight ahead, looking but not seeing. Sam knew how it must have felt; some of the worst times of his life happened when he and Dean had been separated.

So he approached cautiously and tentatively, drawing his badge out ready for when he reached the bench. When he came to a halt, the teenager's eyes took a long time to meet his gaze and when they did, it was only for a second before they were on the floor again. Regardless, Sam flashed him the badge.

"Hey, you're Matt Adams, right? I'm with the FBI, we're looking into your brother's disappearance."

"D'you have any new leads?" The boy's voice was low and croaky, as if he hadn't spoken for a while. And yet, despite how dejected and low it sounded, Sam could still detect the faintest glimmer of hope woven in to his tone.

"That's what I'm here to find out. So tell me what happened, Matt." He said in his gentlest, most understanding tone, taking a seat next to him.

"What's the point?" The teenager replied, hunkering down further in the hard wooden bench and deliberately avoiding looking at Sam, hope vanishing from his voice in a heartbeat. "You wouldn't believe me."

Sam smiled, having heard this too often from witnesses. "Try me. I'll listen to whatever it is you have to say."

The boy sat in stony silence for a little while longer, before he unglued his lips. "It was our birthday. Andy got bored, and dared me to go into the house. I never believed the stories about it, so I agreed."

"And did you see anything in there?" Sam asked.

Matt shook his head. "Nothing."

"And you didn't hear any noises?"

"No." He said firmly.

"And you didn't feel anything when -"

"Look, there was nothing in there, okay?!" The boy snapped furiously.

"Alright, alright." Sam said soothingly, holding up his hands in a pacifying manner. "Tell me what happened next."

Matt sighed and fell back against the bench, still not looking at Sam. "I came out after the ten minutes Andy dared me to stay inside, and I guess he was angry that I wasn't pissing myself. I just told him what I've been saying all along; that there's nothing in there." He paused to shrug. "Guess I was wrong."

"Why?"

"Andy went in there, and like I told the police, he just vanished." The boy's voice had begun to shake now. "At first, I thought he was just playing a joke on me, trying to freak me out, hiding behind a wall and waiting for me to come in looking for him so he could jump out and scare me. So I gave it a few minutes, waiting for him to get bored, but he didn't come out. So I went in, and he wasn't there anymore."

"And you didn't hear anything to suggest he'd broken out the back?"

"Nothing. Door was still firmly panelled shut, and none of the windows were broken."

"And did you see anything when you went in the second time? Did anything feel any different?"

Matt paused, frowning, and Sam kept silent as he allowed the boy to think. After a few moments, he slowly shook his head. "It looked a little brighter than when I went in the first time? But.."

He trailed off but Sam latched onto the word like a lifeline. "But what, Matt?"

The teenager shook his head again and shrugged. "I dunno, the air felt heavier. Like it does before a storm, you know? But as I was searching the house, it got lighter again." He paused, biting his lip, before finally meeting Sam's gaze. "You're gonna find my brother, right?"

"We're gonna do our best, Matt." Sam promised with a reassuring smile.

"Wait, run that by me one more time."

Sam sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I said I think this thing, whatever it is, is choosing its targets. I mean, look." He gestured to the table before them. Scattered across it were the missing person's reports of the nine people that had entered the house and vanished into thin air. Each one portrayed someone of different race, age and background. "No connections between them, and then there's the kid I spoke to today."

"Right, yeah," Dean pushed a hand through his short hair. "He went in and felt nothing, his brother goes in and poof, he's gone."

Sam nodded. "The only option I can think of is that something's choosing them. But why them and what for, I got nothing."

"Okay, you relay that to Bobby, and thank him for such a friggin' wonderful case while you're at it." Dean pushed himself away from the table, deliberately ignoring Sam's eye roll as he pulled out his phone. Facing the ceiling, Dean crossed his arms and said, "I pray to Castiel and Gabriel to get their feathery asses down here. We need their help."

In the time it had taken Dean to blink, there came the sound of flapping wings behind him and Castiel's deep, gravelly tone. "Hello, Dean."

The hunter turned and frowned when he saw that Castiel was alone. "Where's Gabriel?"

Castiel's mouth curled into a disapproving frown, and his eyes flicked skywards. "He wished me to inform you that he refuses to answer your call."

"Oh, for the love of -" Dean began, but cut himself short when he saw the warning glint in Castiel's blue eyes. "Gabriel! You tried to kill me yesterday! The least you can do is answer me, you son of a bitch!"

"Dean, I doubt that will provide him with the proper incentive to obey your wishes."

"I tried asking him nicely and he didn't want to know." Dean replied defensively.

"Gabriel!" Dean heard Sam shout from the kitchenette. "Quit being a childish dick and get down here! Sorry Bobby, no, not you -"

"Jeez, you guys are just the epitome of polite summons, aren't you?" The archangel's voice rang out a millisecond later. Dean whirled around; Gabriel was sprawled out on Sam's bed, hands behind his head. "I mean, would it kill you to say 'please'?"

"They required our assistance, Gabriel." Castiel said sharply before Dean could open his mouth.

"Oh, spare me." Gabriel muttered darkly, sitting up. "Anything but a speech from the leader of the Winchester Fan Club."

Castiel's face morphed into one of Sam's bitchfaces, before he turned away and observed the table's contents instead. "These are the missing people?" He asked, not taking his eyes off a photograph of a father and his young son.

"Yeah. All of them have vanished in the same house over the past week. No connections between the victims, nothing in the house, no damn clues anywhere. Oh, and nothing weird reported about the house until this rumour started up out of nowhere."

"Rumour?" Gabriel asked from his spot on Sam's bed, now chewing a piece of gum.

"It's been around for years." Sam had finally ended his call with Bobby and was walking back in. "Apparently kids have been going in all the time, trying to see the ghost. It's only been in this past week that -"

He suddenly trailed off as he reached the table, eyebrows furrowing before glancing up and staring at Castiel and Gabriel in turn. Dean and Castiel both exchanged a puzzled look, and even Gabriel slid off the bed to fix Sam with a confused stare. Then, just as Dean opened his mouth to ask why Sam was behaving so weirdly, his brother spoke again. But rather than facing his brother, he looked from one angel to the other, expression deadly serious.

"Guys, have you noticed any other angels suddenly taking a weird interest in humans?"

Castiel tilted his head while Gabriel huffed out a surprised laugh. "You're joking, right? You expect us to keep tabs on all our brothers and sisters? Kiddo, I know we're amazing and everything, but come on, be reasonable."

"Gabriel is correct." Castiel agreed. "It is difficult to watch the whole of Heaven's movements."

"Understatement." Gabriel added, blowing a bubble.

"Why do you ask, Sam?"

"Dean, can't you feel that?" Sam asked, ignoring Castiel's question.

"Feel what?" Dean questioned, looking at him as if he'd grown a second head.

Sam waved a hand through the air around them. "That. Doesn't it remind you of anything?"

Dean frowned, feeling all three pairs of eyes on him. He turned back to meet Castiel's eye, and that was when he got was Sam was getting at. The air surrounding the angel standing just beside him was filled with a humming power, so thick he could almost reach out and touch it. It gave the air an almost tinny quality, like it was full of invisible electricity. Just like at the house.

"It's an angel." Dean said, turning to face Sam who nodded grimly.

"And it only takes certain people. Matt told me he didn't feel a thing when he went into that house for the first time, but when he went back after Andy vanished, he said he could feel electricity in the air. For some reason, it's choosing people."

"Wait, you think an angel's been selecting and kidnapping humans?" Gabriel asked, finally standing at the table with the others, looking amazed. He didn't wait for an answer, just saw the anxious look in Sam's eyes, and nodded, suddenly serious. "Cassie, we're going. We'll let you know if we find anything." And then, with two separate flaps of their wings, both angels vanished.

At the table, Dean dragged a hand down his face. "Great. Just when I thought our days of fighting angels were over with."

Sam sighed and collapsed into a chair. "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss hunting Wendigos. Life was so much simpler back then."

In the same instant Dean murmured his agreement with Sam's statement, something happened in the abandoned house.

Where before there was nothing but darkness in the front room, suddenly it was swimming with light. It had erupted from nowhere, blinding in its brightness, spreading from the centre of the empty room and scattering to every corner. It ate up every shadow, illuminating the tiniest spaces. And yet, none of the bizarre light escaped into the outside world; the boarded windows kept it all firmly enclosed.

But as soon as it appeared it was gone, leaving in its wake a teenage girl. She was kneeling in the centre of the room, almost as if the light had carried her there and then dropped her. She remained in that position for a long time; focusing only on regulating her breathing. Only when the air around her evened out and lost the crackle of power did she finally sit up, a beaming smile etched onto her face.