10

A Fire Inside

"'We can get it, we just need time'," Sam mocked. "How the hell are we gonna do that, Dean?"

"I don't know," Dean snapped. "I just said it to shut 'em up! How the hell are we supposed to get them proof that these ghosts exist, take a camera?" Castiel let out a long, tired sigh, shaking his head a little.

"Take them with you when you find out when the next attack will be," he said quietly from the back seat. "You'll have proof and back up if you need it."

The two brothers exchanged glances at the blatantly obvious suggestion, both feeling equally as stupid for not noticing it sooner.

"Right…" Dean mumbled. "So, we'll, uh, go get our stuff, head back there and see if we can figure out when the next ghost is gonna show up."

"Dean, we don't even know why this is happening!" Sam exclaimed. "This isn't one ghost killing people it's a bunch of different ghosts! How the hell does that happen? And all in one area? Something is making this happen."

"What? What's making this happen?" Dean asked rhetorically. "Until we can figure this out we treat this like any run-of-the-mill salt and burn, alright?"

"I'll…I'll call Bobby," he resolved. "Maybe he knows what the hell is going on. You have to admit, Dean, this is weird. Even by our standards."

"I never said it wasn't," he admitted. "I don't know, it…it's weird but it isn't."

"I think we need to talk to the families again," Sam muttered. "Maybe we're missing something there."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "How do you think they're doing?"

"They're probably trying to figure out when they'll wake up from this insanity," Castiel said bluntly. Dean chuckled. "I'm glad you find it amusing. They sure don't."

"You really believe them, don't you?" Lisbon asked. Patrick nodded, trying not to look as solemn as he felt. He smiled that fake smile he had so perfected, using what was left of his damaged walls to block what he was truly feeling from his expression, his demeanor, and most of all, his eyes.

"Absolutely," he smirked, standing from Van Pelt's chair and plopping on his couch. "I wouldn't put such faith into them if I didn't believe them," he said pointedly.

"So…what did it look like?" Rigsby asked curiously.

"What? Oh, the chupacabra," he chuckled. "Right, well, it was impish, most definitely. It wasn't very tall, sharp teeth, claws, scaly… Angry looking too," he laughed again. "This is so insane."

"You're telling me," Van Pelt mumbled.

"I don't understand why you're so calm about all of this," Lisbon huffed.

"I'm not calm, I'm…composed," Patrick amended. "Just like our friend Cho, here." Cho looked up from his paperwork.

"Stop bringing me into this," he said stoically. "It makes it harder to try and ignore it."

"See?" Patrick leaned back, his arm slung over the back of the couch. "Composed, but far from calm."

"So you're just a freaked out as we are?" Rigsby asked. Patrick nodded.

"If not more so. But, in crisis, the best thing you can do is not panic."

"We're not panicking!" Lisbon exclaimed. Patrick smiled.

"Oh trust me," he said, nodding wisely. "You will be."

"What do we do now, Boss?" Van Pelt asked.

"We wait for the Ghostbusters to get back," she sighed. Patrick smiled at the terminology and leaned his head back, shutting his eyes.

Ignore them, Patrick, he told himself. It's not really there. They aren't there, they can't be. You're losing your mind. You never should have been released from that asylum.

I'm not crazy.

Ah, but it's the crazy ones that say they aren't crazy, aren't they?

I…I just need sleep. I haven't been getting much lately. The nightmares…

Yes, the nightmares.

They don't feel like nightmares, they feel… they feel…

What? Real? Ha! You really are losing it. That's not possible.

But…but Sam and Dean, they said ghosts are-

They haven't proven yet that ghosts exists. All they showed you was a little devil in the middle of the rainforest. I'm sure if you Googled it right now it would come up as some endangered primate.

Now who's the one kidding themselves? You know what you saw, why deny it?

God, why won't they leave me alone? Why won't they let me sleep..?

Maybe this has something to do with you being so close to Red John recently…

"…Jane?"

"Sorry, what?"

"I said you look like hell," Lisbon said. "You alright?" For a split second, he wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her why he wasn't sleeping, what he was seeing and how he hadn't slept in a week.

But he smiled, and nodded. "Just fine."

"Maybe you should head home and-"

"No!" He said far too quickly. He smiled again to reassure her frown. "No, I should be here and help." She eyed him suspiciously. "Really, Lisbon, I'm fine."

She dropped the subject, walking away.

He ran a hand over his face. He was losing it. What he was sure he could fight, could keep away from his mind and keep it from bothering him was getting to him. It was wearing him down. He was losing his ability to think clearly.

He shook his head, standing to go get yet another cup of tea, which was the only thing keeping him awake at the moment.

Maybe you should tell Sam and Dean.

No.

Why not?

Because the lives of others is more important than my little dilemma.

Little? Little? You-

SHUT UP!

He took a big gulp from his cup and shook his head, shaking out the cobwebs.

You're fine, you're fine, you're fine…

"Jane," Rigsby said. He turned. "The crazies are back."