Summary - What if Sam wasn't the only one who was around Dean the last three months before his deal was up? What if there was someone else? This story follows Sam, Dean, and Apple my original character as they try to get Dean out of his deal; though Apple doesn't exactly know about Dean's deal until it's almost too late. What happens if they can't save him? Is Dean really gone forever?
Author's Note - This follows the last six episodes of season three, I just added my own character into the mix and a few more things. I don't own any of the characters or the episodes, just Apple and the plot following the last episode. Let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome. I'd also appreciate reviews, or anything just so I know how I'm doing with this. My first SPN fanfic, so yeah, I'd like to know what you guys think.

Everything about them is a little bit stranger
A little bit harder, a little bit deadly

Chapter Ten

"We don't get too many people from HQ down here," the man said as he led Apple, Sam, and Dean into the building that housed the phone company. Sam batted at a fly that buzzed around his head as the man explained where the man they needed to talk to was. "I know, sorry. We've got something of a hygiene issue down here if you ask me."

He paused a moment before he opened the door to a room loaded with computers and circuit boards. He ushered them inside before he turned to the man that sat behind a few computers. "Stewie? What did I tell you about keeping this place clean?"

Apple quirked an eyebrow as she watched the man quickly close windows on his multiple computer screens. "Stewie Meyers. Mr. Campbell, Mr. Raimi, Miss Fellows..."

"I don't know how all these got here," Stewie muttered before the man grabbed his head.

"From Headquarters," he said meaningfully. "You give them whatever they need." The four watched as the man left the room.

"So. That Busty Asian Beauties dot com?" Dean asked.

"No," Stewie said as he closed the window. "Maybe."

"Word of the wise," Dean said. "Platinum membership? Worth every penny."

Apple snorted and rolled her eyes. She held her hands clasped in front of her as she resisted the urge to pop Dean on the back of the head. "Anyway," she said as she shot Dean a look. "We're here here to trace a number." She handed the piece of paper to Stewie.

"Where did you get this?"

"Off a caller ID," Sam said.

"That's impossible," Stewie began.

"It hasn't been used in a few years, we known." Dean cut in.

"A few years, it's prehistoric," he went on. "Trust me, nobody's using this number anymore."

Apple tapped her foot in annoyance. She wanted to get out of this place, it reeked. How could this guy work in here? It was just so dirty. "Could you run it anyway?" She asked irritated.

"Sure. Why don't I just rearrange my whole life first," Stewie said sarcastically.

"Listen. Stewie. You've got about six kinds of employee violation codes down here," Dean said seriously. "Not to mention the sickening porn clogging up your hard drive. So if my partner says run the number, I suggest you run the number."

Stewie quickly nodded his head and traced the number. "Holy crap," he said. "I can't tell you where the number comes from, but I can tell you where it's been going. Ten different houses in the past week all got calls from the same number." He got up and handed Apple a piece of paper with all the addresses on it. He sat back down and looked up at them. "So, are we done here? I was sort of busy."

- - - - -

Sam stepped out of his rental car and walked up to the house on the list Dean had chosen for him. He straightened out his suit before he rang the doorbell. He waited a few moments before a man opened the door. Sam introduced himself and inquired about their telephone service.

"Have you had any problems with your phone lately? Dropped calls, or strange voices on the other end of the line?" He asked.

"No, we haven't had any of that here." The man answered. Sam noticed a teenage girl who stood behind the man, she watched him carefully.

He thanked the man for his time before he turned around and walked back to his car. Just as he was about to climb in, he saw the girl from earlier. She stood just a few feet from his car and watched him once more.

"No way you work for the phone company," she finally said.

"Sure I do," Sam said casually.

"Since when does a phone guy drive a rental, or wear a cheap suit," the daughter asked.

"Yeah, well, maybe we're both keeping secrets."

"Why'd you ask my dad if he heard strange voices on the phone?"

"Why, did you hear something?"

"No," she answered quickly.

"My mistake. Thought maybe you did."

"Well, I didn't, okay?" The girl said defiantly as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Okay. Sorry to bother you," Sam started. "Because if you did, then I would've told you that I've been right where you're standing now. Hearing things – even seeing things that couldn't be explained. Maybe I would've been able to help out a bit. Anyways..." Sam finished as he went to get in his car again.

"Hey, wait. Maybe I've been talking on the phone. With my mom," she said slowly.

"Well that's not so strange."

"She's dead," the girl went on. "Like three years now dead."

"How often does she call you?"

"A few times. It started a week ago," she told him. "I thought I was going crazy or something."

"Well I can tell you one thing for sure, and you're going to have to go with me on this, okay? You're not crazy." Sam said firmly.

- - - - -

"Dude, stiffs are calling people all over town," Dean said to Sam over the phone. He and Apple had just finished an interview with an elderly woman. "Me and Apple just talked to an eighty-four year old grandmother who's having phone sex with her husband who died in Korea."

"So what the hell is going on here, Dean?" Sam asked.

"Beats me, but we better figure it out soon, this place is turning into Spook Central," Dean replied as he and Apple headed toward the Impala.

"Yeah, I'll call you later."

Dean and Apple opened the car doors, as they were about to get in, Dean's phone ran again. Apple quirked an eyebrow as Dean shrugged and answered it.

"Yeah, what?" He said. "Sam?"

"Dean," said a different voice, yet he knew it all too well. "Dean, is that you?"

"Dad?"

- - - - -

"I mean, dad?" Sam said as he sat down on his bed.

"You really think it was your dad?" Apple asked as she looked at Dean who continued to pace.

"Yeah, maybe."

"Well, what'd he sound like?"

"Like Oprah," Dean said sarcastically. "Dad, he sounded like dad, what do you think?"

Sam turned his gaze on Dean's face. "What'd he say?"

"My name."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, call dropped out," Dean answered.

"Why would he even call in the first place, Dean?" Apple asked. She was so confused, their father was dead. Why and how did he even get through the phone lines? How were any of the deceased able to get through the phone lines?

"Why are people hearing from ghosts everywhere in this town? Other people are hearing from their loved ones, why can't we? It's a least a possibility, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Sam said, unsure.

"Okay, so what... what if it really is dad?" Dean asked as he sat next to Apple. "What if he calls back?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I say?"

"Hello?" Sam suggested.

"Hello?" Dean said incredulously. "Hello? That's what you come back with, 'hello'?" They watched as Dean grabbed his jacket and started to leave. "Hello," he said again as he stared at Sam before he left the room.

- - - - -

"You find anything?" Dean asked as he walked back into the room.

"After three hours of searching, I have found no reason why anything supernatural should be going on here," Sam said. Both he and Apple looked frustrated. They all knew something strange was going on in Milan, Ohio, but none of them could figure out what.

"You should be smarter than that, since you went to college and all," Dean asked as he threw a pamphlet onto the table Sam and Apple were seated at. "You're looking in all the wrong places. The right place is the motel pamphlet rack. Milan, Ohio; Birthplace of Thomas Edison."

"So what?" Apple asked as her and Sam looked the pamphlet over.

"Keep reading," he told them.

Together, Sam and Apple continued to read over the pamphlet. They looked up at Dean in surprise. "You're kidding," they both said.

- - - --

"And we're walking," said the tour guide as she led a good amount of people, which included Sam, Dean, and Apple into another room in the museum. "And here we have one of the museum's most treasured possessions, Thomas Edison's 'spirit phone' Did you know that as well as being one of America's most beloved inventors, he was also a devout occultist?"

The tour guide went on to explain how Edison had been convinced the phone before them, could communicate with the dead. As everyone followed the guide out of the room, Sam pulled out their EMF meter and ran it over the phone, but didn't get any readings.

"What do you think?" Dean asked.

"Honestly? It kinda looks like an old pile of junk to me," Sam answered.

Apple looked the phone over and noticed it wasn't even plugged in; the cord rested on the side of the old telephone. "It's not even plugged in," she stated.

"Maybe it doesn't work like that," Sam suggested.

"Okay. Maybe it's like a radio tower, broadcasting the dead all over town." Dean guessed as he looked at the phone.

Apple shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea if the thing worked or not, it was old and looked like it hadn't been touched in a while. "Well, the number on the caller ID was over a hundred years old right, right around the time this thing was built."

"Yeah, but why would it start working now?"

"I dunno. But as long as the moldy are calling the freshes around here, that's the best reason we got," Dean said.

"Yeah, maybe." Apple said.

"So maybe it really is dad."

- - - - -

Apple laid awake in bed that night. She knew Dean was up, his side of the bed was cold. She could hear his fingers as the drummed lightly on something, where was he? She opened her eyes slightly and saw him seated at the table, phone placed before him. Apple watched him carefully and wondered what he was till doing up. The phone rang and it clicked in Apple's brain. His dad. He had waited on another call from his dad.

"Dad?" She heard Dean whisper.

"Dean."

"Is it really you?"

"It's me."

"How can I be sure?"

"You can't. Dean. How could you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Sell your soul."

"I was looking after Sammy like you told me too."

"I never wanted this. You're my boy. I love you. I can't watch you go to hell, Dean."

"I'm sorry. I don't know how to stop it."

"'Cause if you break the deal, Sam dies, right? Well I know a way out. For both of you."

"How?"

"The demon that holds your contract. He's here. Now."

Apple couldn't be sure of what John had said to his son. But she had a strong feeling it all had to do with Dean's deal. She pretended to sigh in her sleep as Dean finally crawled in bed next to her. Apple turned on her side to face him.

"You alright?" She asked.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine. Your dad call again?" She watched as he nodded his head. "What'd he say?"

"Nothing." Dean lied. Apple sighed, she knew he had lied, she had heard his side of the conversation.

"Alright. Night Dean."

"Night Apple-pie."

- - - - -

The daughter Sam had spoken to early sat in her room, her fingers typed away on her keyboard as she instant messaged her friends. A message popped up from the the number Dean, Sam, and Apple had tracked down, in the form of a screen name; SHA33.

"Lanie, are you there?" It read.

"Mom?" she typed in reply.

"I asked you a question last night. Have you thought about it?"

"I don't know what you want."

"Of course you do. I want to see you."

"I went to see you, at the cemetery."

"That's not what I meant."

"But I'm scared."

"Don't be scared. I'm right here with you."

Lanie's screen had suddenly shut off and she started at her reflection in the black screen. She looked to her right and saw her mother behind her. Her mother rested her hand lightly on Lanie's shoulder and Lanie jumped up and out of her chair. She nearly screamed as the screen turned back on and "Come to me," was written over and over again.

+chapter title: cigarettes and chocolate milk – rufus wainwright