Author's note: Whoah, it's been a month! Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm not gonna lie, I was kind of lazy, then I had writer's block, then I sort of overdosed... (I'm okay now!) Anyways, this chapter is kind of short because I have to go work on a bunch of college application stuff for next year. According to my parents, it's of vital importance that I apply to Oxbridge RIGHT THIS INSTANT

Anyways, here's the chapter.

"Open," Dean said to the car, and the silent hydraulics pushed the door up. He could easily use his demon skills to zap himself after Castiel, but he liked to walk. It allowed him to savor the sensation of moving muscles which reminded him of his lost humanity. Cas was at the porch of the house, looking inside the window cautiously. Dean didn't know why he bothered; there was nothing that a minor haunting could do to harm an angel or a demon.

"Lock up," he told the car as he ran after Cas. The angel had his hand on the side of the building, eyes closed in concentration. Dean was hit with a violent wave of deja vu as his old friend tilted his head, brow furrowed.

"There's two ghosts," the angel remarked.

"Two?"

"Yes. I can feel two separate energies in the house," Cas confirmed.

"Well, let's go get rid of 'em." Dean twitched his finger and the door opened.

"Wait, Dean. I want to know something."

"Okay, shoot."

"Have you had much experience with spirits?"

"Dude, I fought ghosts like other kids fought Pokemon," Dean replied quizzically. "You know that."

"I don't know what a Pokemon is. But I meant since you descended into your current form."

Dean decided to ignore the angel's derogatory choice of words about his transformation.

"A Pokemon is a little creature that you train- oh, never mind. No, I haven't been topside much. Hell's kinda time-consuming."

"Some non-human creatures, like angels, can sense the presence of ghosts and spirits," Castiel informed him. "I don't know if demons can, but these spirits are relatively harmless, so you should give it a try." Castiel's hand dropped again. "Put your hand here and close your eyes."

Dean placed his hand over the spot which Castiel's had recently occupied. Nothing happened.

"Anything?"

"No."

"Here. Try now." Cas put his hand over Dean's.

At first, nothing happened, but as Dean waited, concentrating hard, he began to feel a build-up of energy underneath his palm. It seemed to irradiate from the wood of the door frame, coursing through his veins and pulsing in his mind. Slowly, as the energy climbed, it began to separate into two similar, but distinct, forms. One felt wholly smooth and gentle, but it had a harsh edge to it. The other filled Dean with someone else's rage, but had loving, protective undercurrents.

"There's two things," he confirmed, and opened his eyes. Castiel's hand was no longer on his own, but he could still feel the pulsating energies.

"What do they feel like?" Cas prompted.

"One's sort of...friendly, but raging. The other's protective and rueful."

"Reach out into the energies. See if you can gauge the relationship between them;how they react and build upon each other."

"The second is sort of...enveloping the first."

"Here, let me." Cas brushed the demon's hand away. Dean shivered as the energies fled his body. "These are tormented souls. Here, put your hand back."

"I can feel their pain, Cas," Dean said, as the sensation took over his body again. "Oh, god, they're in so much pain."

"Feel how similar the energies are," Cas urged. They did feel similar, and Dean instinctively knew that the people to whom they belonged were very close.

"They're family."

"Closer than family," the angel coached. "They compliment each other. The edges are fused together."

Suddenly Dean realized that he wasn't receiving any help from Cas. He dropped his hand.

"Wait, Cas, I did that by myself." Dean stared at his palm, and then at the angel.

"Your powers are stronger than I thought." The angel frowned.

"Let's go, dude. I can train up my Poke-moves later." Dean walked through the door. Inside, the house was a wreck. Picture frames lay on the floor, shattered. A lone tennis shoe lay at the foot of the stairs. Dust covered every available surface. A pair of skinny mice scampered out as they entered.

"Maybe they killed off the housekeeper," Dean joked. "This place is a mess."

"The spirits are upstairs. Come on." Cas disappeared with a whoosh. Dean picked up a moving photograph depicting a little girl tossing a ball for a golden retriever with her parents looking on, the father waving at the camera. Something in the girl's movements reminded Dean of the energies he had felt earlier. He smoothed out the photo and placed it on the little table before following Cas.

"Show yourself," the angel was demanding. The room was still. "Can you feel their presence, Dean?"

"Dude, can we just go? Something feels wrong."

"More wrong than a demon and an angel hunting a ghost?" Cas deadpanned.

"No... it's just weird in here." Dean couldn't figure out why the atmosphere felt strange, as if something was missing and replaced with something entirely different.

"When you said you hadn't 'been topside' much, does that mean you haven't been near a ghost at all since you became a demon?" Cas said, tilting his head to the side.

"No, not that I know of."

"Your form is a lot more similar to a ghost now than it was when you were human. You probably don't feel as alienated."

"I'm not cold," the demon realized suddenly. "I feel...warm, somehow."

"Its energy," Cas stated. "I think you can feel it more than I can." He closed his eyes, concentrating.

"Uh, Miss Ghosty? Um, can you hear me?"

A book flew off of the bookshelf.

"Oh. Um, hi. Listen, You're kinda freaking people out, so if you could move on to heaven, that'd be nice," Dean said to the seemingly vacant room.

"Can't," something whispered softly. "We're stuck."

"Stuck?"

"We were wronged," replied the voice.

"Wronged? Wronged how?" Cas asked. There was no answer.

"How were you wronged?"

"Daniel," the voice said nervously. Wind began to blow throughout the room.

"Daniel? Daniel who?" Dean asked.

"Daniel!" The voice shrieked. Then, as quickly as it started, the wind died.

"I can't find anything about a 'Daniel' in any of these." Dean poked at the paper-thin tablet on the desk in front of him.

"Why are the birds so angry?" Cas sat next to him, another tablet in his hands. He was throwing little virtual birds into little virtual blocks.

"Aw, dude, have you been doing anything?" Dean closed the virtual newspaper archive and snatched the angel's tablet. "We've been at the library for an hour."

"We're immortal beings, Dean. I have time to ease the birds' anger."

"They're not actually angry."

"Then why-"

"You haven't changed at all, Cas."

"Is that a Good thing or a Bad thing?"

"Good. Definitely a Good thing." Dean cleared his throat. Then, more quietly, he added, "I wouldn't want it any other way." Castiel looked at him. "I missed you, man."

"I do to."