"Dean…" Sam yelled, reaching out to grab his brother as he faded away; but he was gone. While he spun around, the landscape dissolved and Sam found himself standing back in the gutter of the hospital carpark. "What the…" Sam was struggling to believe what had just happened, 'how did Dean convince Billie to help him?" was the first thought that came to his mind, and the thoughts did not stop there; Missouri, what is there? It cannot be a serial killer, can it? Find the kill zone, what the hell does that mean?

Sam tossed the ideas around in his head, he had almost forgotten about his brother lying upstairs, almost, but not completely. That stress was still there; bubbling under the surface, just waiting for Sam to relapse into those all controlling thoughts; then it would pounce and bring him undone completely. Sam could not would not, let that happen. He had to solve this, this, mission that Dean had given him. Then it dawned on him, "Dammit…" he yelled to the carpark as he took off in the direction of the Impala.

Sam drove like a madman, taking corners hard and fast, the tyres screaming their consent; they were getting a little action, after all, and a car like that, needs action. In no time at all Sam arrived at his destination, he was out of the car and running up the garden path, he banged hard on the door and kept banging until it was opened.

Harper stood looking at Sam, waiting for him to explain the non-stop knocking. "Do you still want to help?" he asked breathlessly, after his sprint through the garden. Harper nodded, "Right. This way." Sam started running back through the garden, Harper not knowing the urgency of the situation started walking behind him, "Hurry…" he yelled from the car; the intensity of that command made her speed up.

Once she was in the car, Sam gunned the engine and they were off. The car racing through the deserted streets, toward the factory. "Sam, you are going to have to explain to me what's happening. Is Dean ok?"

"No…" he answered.

Harper sat in stunned silence; it was not clear from Sam's answer, what he was talking about; No, I will not explain to you, or, No Dean is not ok. The way he had barked the word, frightened her and she was not sure she could, or should, ask for clarification. Eventually, the silence, and not knowing, got the better of her and she asked anyway.

"No… Dean is not ok. He's dying and we have to change that." Sam explained the situation to her. Harper already knew what had happened the night they went to check the factory out, but she did not know about Billie and what had happened since Dean had woken up.

"So, you think Dean has this ghost sickness?"

"Yes… it explains why he suddenly has these lesions on his brain. He's had it before, but that time he suffered from extreme fear, sort of what the ghost who made him sick was suffering from when he was killed."

"So, the ghost that threw him down the stairs… made him sick?"

"I think so. I don't know. Truth is… it could be any of them; he might have come into contact with another one."

"So how do we find which ghost?"

"We don't. It wouldn't matter anyway if we knew which ghost it was, because if Dean is right and these people were killed by a serial killer, then they are most likely buried under the factory, and those foundations are way too thick for us to get through."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because we would want to salt and burn the bones, remember? That's how you get rid of spirits."

Harpers face switched from confusion to sudden realisation, "And if Dean is right, then the bones are under the factory and we can't get to them."

"Right."

"Then what do we do?"

Sam looked over at Harper as he drove; turning his head back to the road, he explained Dean's theory, "Dean thinks the spirits are trapped in a zone. That they don't have full run of the factory. Most likely there was a building on the land beforehand that nobody knew about, except maybe the killer, or the killer had a particular area where he would kill and because of that these spirits are trapped there."

"But what does that mean for us?" Harper was straight back where she had started; confused.

"It means we need to find the zone. We need to know exactly where they can, and can't go. Essentially, we need to map out the area they are linked to."

"Because?"

"Because we need to do a spell. Dean mentioned Missouri to me, at first I thought he meant the place, but then I remembered Missouri was a psychic who helped us try to rid poltergeists from a home, way back when."

"And this Missouri is going to help us now."

"No… But, we can hijack her spell and use it to rid the spirits, seeing as we don't have any bones to burn. First, we need to put a spell in place, to ensure the spirits do not come back to the building. That is why I need you. We need to set both spells at the four boundaries, North, South, East and West, of both the factory and the killing zone if this has any chance of working." Sam paused.

Harper broke the silence. "And does it… have a chance?"

"I don't know…" was all Sam would commit to, shaking his head as he tried to remain positive. This was definitely a long shot. First, it depended on Dean being right, which was possible. Then, it depended on Sam remembering the spell and making the right changes to the ingredients so that it would have a chance at expelling the ghosts, as well as not allowing them back. Of course, the first time they had done this, it had not worked at all. In the end, his mom's ghost had taken the poltergeist down. Next, they actually had to find the boundaries of Dean's so-called kill zone and actually say the spell. Yep. Things were not looking so good, but Sam realised this was Dean's only chance and he would just have to make it work. Some way.

Once they were at the factory, Sam took some time to re-write the spell and had Harper get everything they needed from the boot as he assembled the spell bags on the bonnet. Once he had the first four bags ready, he spoke to Harper, "Just pull back on this, aim, and pull the trigger. Reload like this. They're salt rounds, it won't kill a ghost but it will give you some time to run." Sam explained, as he first showed Harper how to shoot and reload and then handed her the gun. "I also need you to place these," he added as he handed Harper the spell bags, "In each of the four boundaries of the factory. Walk around the boundaries on the outside, and then make your way inside. This way you should stay away from the kill zone. You need to put the bags inside the walls. So you'll need this." Sam pulled a sledgehammer from the boot. "They need to stay in there for good. So decide where to put your hole and then throw the bags into the cavity, away from the hole, so that it is less likely someone will discover them and remove them later. You got it?" Harper nodded; as she took the bags and hammer from Sam, she turned to walk away, but Sam called out to her "Harper." Harper spun on the spot and looked at him expectantly, "Call, if you need me!" and after a split second he added, "Good luck."

Harper took off. Sam wished her well in his thoughts, almost praying for her safety; though he was convinced, nobody was listening to that. Sam was not even sure that she could avoid the kill zone; they had no choice but to try.

Sam finished the other four bags and taking a can of spray paint from the boot, along with his shotgun, flashlight and plenty of salt rounds, he made his way into the factory, to play a little game of chicken with some ghosts. Sam was going to start where he had found Dean unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. Dean had said that the ghosts had not made a move on him because they were stuck, so, as a starting place, it seemed logical.

Sam slowed down, as he moved past the spot where he had found Dean, he had to get this right. Any second now, a ghost should appear and he had to be…

Smack.

Sam went flying before sprawling out on the concrete.

The ghost had hit him from behind.

The wind knocked from his lungs, he rolled over, still clutching the shotgun.

Aim.

Fire.

Smoked.

Sam, still winded, struggled to his feet, only to be knocked down again.

'No fair' he thought wildly as his elbows took the force of the fall, the gun slipped from his hands and bounced away in front of him, as a well-aimed kick smashed into his ribcage.

The force of the blow rolled Sam over so that he was now on his back and looking up at the spirit, struggling for breath; Sam started to shimmy backwards on his hands and feet. The ghost slowly followed as if it were enjoying some kind of game.

Sam's right hand suddenly came down on the gun and he grasped it quickly; swinging it around before it smashed into his left hand, which held the position as his trigger finger let a round loose.

Smoked.

Another spirit immediately appeared behind the smoke and started advancing on Sam; the gun was empty he had to reload; instead, he rose quickly and made a dash for it.

After a few seconds, it dawned on Sam that he was still running. Ghosts were much faster than humans were; so why wasn't he on the ground again, or worse.

Sam stopped running and spun around; at the same time, he reached for two more rounds and releasing the shotgun, he ejected the spent rounds and replaced the cartridges.

He needn't have bothered.

As he looked back, he could clearly see that the ghost was standing still.

Sam smiled.

Dean was right.

Sam walked back over to the ghost; a short young female, or at least it had been once. The ghost did not attempt to come at him and Sam used the spray can to mark out the edge of the kill zone, as well as place a spell bag before he took off to repeat the whole process on the right side and the front of the factory.

Sam was now looking for the final edge of the zone. It had to be somewhere in the middle of the factory. He had been walking around aimlessly for a few minutes now. Just waiting for another spirit to appear when his phone rang.

"You ok?" he asked by way of answer.

"Yeah, fine." came Harper's breathy reply, "I just put the last bag in the wall. Where are you? I'll come to you."

"No…" Sam replied without even thinking, "You're done here. Go back to the car and wait for me."

"Sam…" Harper started to speak but Sam cut her off, "I mean it, Harper. I need to know you are safe. I can't do this and worry about you. Please. Just go."

"Ok… Be safe…" Harper pleaded before she hung up.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief before he put the phone back in his pocket. As he walked, Sam started to think through the plan again. Obviously, he still needed to find the final edge and then he had to say the spells before…

There was a spirit standing just a few feet in front of Sam.

It was not moving.

It was just standing and staring at him.

Sam raised his gun, getting it ready to shoot if the spirit charged, but nothing happened.

Could it be on the edge of the zone, Sam thought to himself. Well, there was only one way to find out, so Sam started to advance on the ghost.

It did not move.

Sam took each step cautiously.

Still, the ghost stood still.

When Sam was almost within arm's reach of the spirit, he decided that this was the edge of the zone; raising the shotgun, he fired and the ghost dissipated. Sam took the final steps and bent down marking the zone; just as he was about to place the spell bag, he was yanked from his feet.

The gun went flying into the kill zone.

Sam started to crawl for it; that gun was his only chance.

The spirit grabbed Sam by his jacket, just as his hand made contact with the gun. By some stroke of luck, Sam managed to grab the gun, as the spirt spun him around through the air. The ghost released Sam moments later and he flew, smacking hard into the concrete ground, before rolling furiously as he tried to get further away. Sam was almost back out of the zone. He scurried, hurriedly, on all fours, away from the ghost. Just as his upper body had cleared the zone, the ghost latched on to his ankle and dragged him, savagely, back into the zone.

Sam struggled to free himself, viciously kicking out with his other foot, but nothing helped. Realising he still had the gun, Sam tried to flip himself over instead, rolling quickly to his right, his ankle twisting uncomfortably in the spirits grasp. Sam lifted the gun and when the spirit came into his sights…

Bang.

Smoked.

Sam slumped to the floor.

Spent.

When he had his breath back, Sam took a moment to work out where he was. Sam thought he was about fifty feet into the kill zone. Looking back to the edge, he could see three spirits there, waiting.

Looked like they had finally realised what he was trying to do.

How was he going to get out of this one?

To hell with it, Sam thought, as he stood slowly, facing the spirits.

The spell bag lay just behind them.

Sam hoped it was close enough to the kill zone, to work.

Fingers crossed, Sam started chanting the spell. Within seconds, the spirits realised what was happening and they charged at him. Sam started speaking faster as his voice got louder. The air inside the kill zone started to spiral; dust and debris started to fly through the air, as the wind picked up.

The first spirit took the salt round and dusted out.

Sam continued his spell.

The second smashed into Sam, barrelling him backwards through the air.

Sam only stopped chanting for a second, grunting as he smashed into the ground before he continued the spell.

Another ghost came in and picked Sam up by his jacket, before trying to wrap his hands around Sam's throat; throttling him would ensure the spell could not be finished, but Sam just managed to get his fingers in between the ghosts hand and his own throat.

Sam fought hard, chanting as he did so, though it was in short three or four-word chunks as he fought for his breath and, fought for his life.

The spell was nearly finished.

But then… the thug of a spirit came up behind the fighting pair and kicked out; striking hard at the back of Sam's leg, hitting him directly behind his knee.

Sam's legs buckled as he let out a strangled scream; the pain causing him to see little stars, the edge of darkness attempting to take him out.

The ghost that had Sam by the jacket lost his grasp and Sam slipped from his clutches, crumbling to the ground. It was here, that he managed to say the last to words, "terminus eius".

As the final words rang out through the empty room, the swirling air came to an abrupt end, and an eerie silence fell over the factory floor. The spirits stopped, looking at each other and then down at Sam who was lying on the floor, barely conscious.

Without any warning a bright yellow light rose from the floor, Sam rolled away from it, shielding his eyes. The ghosts tried to move away from it as well, but instead, it trapped them with its power. The light seemed to tear at them, breaking them apart piece by piece and pulling them up and away. Before long, the light completely obliterated the spirits, before it seemed to fall back down to the earth, swallowed up by the concrete from where it had come.

Sam, sensing the sudden change at the lights demise, rolled over on to his back. Looking around him for danger, he quickly realised there was none and as relief flooded through him, so too did the darkness.