A Living Makeshift Spirit Detector

"Dean, look."

Feeling better, the older brother got up from the bed and headed to the table were Sam had been searching the Internet. The laptop displayed a newspaper page from more or less a month ago. Heading the article, there was a black and white portrait of a young man, smiling, in a lab coat and with a stethoscope around his neck. Dean couldn't help but realize that despite his broad smile his eyes looked sad, like if he were hiding something tragic.

"James Foxter, 38" Sam started. "He was a cardiologist in the local hospital. Foxter commited suicide about a month ago, he couldn't cope with the lose of his little daughter, Ellie. The girl suffered from- guess what."

"That freaky thing my heart does"

"Bingo. Ventricular fibrilation. Hers was very serious, her father couldn't save her. She died in the operating table."

Dean puffed like shaken by goosebumps. He took a beer from the fridge and got near Sam again.

"There's no picture of the girl, but I bet she is our little 'heartbreaker'" Sam dared "Every heart attacks took place this last month. It coincides with her death."

"Do they say how his father killed himself?"

"He locked himself up in his office and shot himself. In the chest. Straight to the heart."

Dean nodded gloomily, taking a sip of beer.

"Straight to the heart- in every sense. Well, this makes the doctor a very unlikely candidate to help us. Any living relatives we can ask what they did with the girl's body?"

"Foxter was a widower. His girl was the only thing he had left in life" Sam ended with a long, affected breath. Dean's voice sounded too dull.

"Fucking tragedy. I'm somehow glad nobody survived to bear this pain."

Sam winced, closing the laptop with a silent sigh. Dean's sigh on the other hand came out like a exhausted grunt as he sitted in his bed, beer in hand.

"I wonder how we going to find her without the EMF meters. You can't see her, we're not so sensitive to electromagnetism to simply feel her presence... well, except for my poor little heart" he said, finishing his beer.

Sam frowned.

"Hey- wait, that's- I think I have an idea."

The younger brother rushed to the duffle bag on his bed, fumbling inside until he found a large, thin case. He opened it as he approached his older brother and took out something which look like a watch and some sort of large strap.

"Lucky thing it wasn't in the duffle bag you got robbed" he said with a smile.

Dean arced an eyebrow in surprise.

"A heart rate monitor?" he asked "Like the ones ultra running freaks wear?"

"Yup"

Dean arced his other eyebrow.

"Since when you go running?"

"Early in the morning, when I know you'll wake up late because you've been watching who knows what on TV until the wee hours" he said "Exercise is great to relieve stress. You should try"

"You know what exercise I prefer to relieve stress"
Sam ignored his obscene smirk.

"Pull up your T-shirt", he demanded.

Dean did as told, carried out by curiosity above anything. Sam fastened the chestband around his chest and put the watch-like device in his right hand, where he wasn't wearing his regular watch.

"Wait, what are you doing, why you put me this? I look like those idiots who wear two watches."

"Shut up" Sam said, half-smiling. "You know the heart works with electric impulses. Well, some scientists believe that due to that it posses its own electromagnetic energy, different in every person, and it forms some kind of field around us I know it sounds complex, but it has a good scientific base behind. It's said some persons are more sensitive than others to that energy. I'm sure you've heard about people who can't use electrical devices without them failing all the time, or that soft electric shock you feel when you touch somebody.

"You mean, like some kind of bitchy, bad-vibes aura?"

"You may say that. But a thousand times . It can have a ratio of 5 to 12 feet"

"So, our fields are mingling now? Aw, that's so tender, Sam."

"The thing is..." Sam continued, ignoring his brother's continous jokes "I think somehow that girl has found a way to her EMF to yours, more specifically, the one your heart creates. I know it sounds weird as hell, but that could explain why only you can see her, why you suffer a similar arrythmia and why I don't feel a damn thing. I'm not really sure, but- Well, it makes sense. I think."

Dean nodded.

"Sometimes your huge brain scares me"

"Well, it's only a theory... But we have no EMF meters, and we haven't time to find them, so this is our only solution right now" Sam concluded, finishing adjusting the chestband "What is pretty clear is that girl, whatever the reason, has a connection with your heart. When your heart rate becomes unsteady and the alarm goes off, we'll know she's around. Think about the hr meter like a- makeshift spirit detector."

"Well, your makeshift detector helluva stings" Dean protested, loosing the pressure in his chest.

"Hey wait, don't move. I have to set it up" Sam said, adjusting the band again near his heart and taking his right wrist to use the sensor, a franctic beep as he entered the data. "I create a new profile- max heart rate... well you aren't exactly fit so let's say this... Done." the sensor made a sound and a number appeared in the screen; 72. Dean stared at it. "I hope it works" Sam said. "Though I'm afraid we'll have to wait for our little girl to know it. Don't remove it, okay? This is very important, Dean. You're now our- 'living makeshift spirit detector'"

"Your guinea pig, you mean" Dean remarked, grumpy, trying to loose the strap again. Sam slapped his hand ("Ouch!", Dean let out) and pulled down his t-shirt.

They arrived to the pub a couple of minutes later to find good ambience and good music, and a lot of people. That was the best thing in their line of job. They took two sits in the bar, where Sam was able to maintain a conversarion with one of the waiters. He told him they were two writers who were doing a travel guide on the sweetest, nicer towns in America. Mentioning the delicious pie they baked only once a year and remarking once and once again how delicious it was, made the waiter loose his tongue.

"This is a very nice little town" he told them, handing free beers -to Dean's bliss-. It never happens anything. Well, that incident with that kid in the square yesterday was probably the most exciting thing since that doctor shot himself in his hospital"

"Shot? Woah, how it happened?" Sam asked, pretending he didn't know in hope he could find out something that wasn't in papers.

"His daughter died while he operated on her" the waiter explained, gloomily. "Who could bear wuch pressure? The poor man. He used to come here very night, specially after his wife died. No alcohol. Only a tea. He used to sit in the place where-"

A voice interrumpted them. It was one of the waittress.

"Peter, can you come?"

A young woman required his presence from the other side of the bar, a phone in her hand. She was pale and looked anxious, like if she had received bad news"

"Excuse me, buddy, we'll continue later" the waiter told Sam.

While he waited, Sam realized that Dean has lost his gaze somewhere at the other side of the pub. He seemed to be out of breath. Suddenly the sensor alarm went off and Sam jerked, spilling his beer all along the bar.

"Dean! It's her?" he said in a strained whisper, taking his brother's arm and looking around "Where is she? Are you okay? We better go out, here we can't... Dean?"

Sam looked to where his brother was looking to find a stunning girl with her eyes fixed on his brother in a obscene manner. Dean arced an eyebrow and smiled at her; the girl looked away with a smirk. Sam groaned in disbelief.

"Come on, Dean...!"

"The way she looked at me, Sammy...!" Dean puffed, removing his collar shirt in a pompous manner "She just turned me on like mad-"

"Dean, we said no chicks today." Sam said firmly, switching off the alarm in embarassment "We're not going to split up, and obviously I'm not going to be in the same room while you-"

Dean raised his hands as to defend himself.

"Hey, we agree on that".

"Anyway, how're you going explain to her why're you wearing a heart rate meter?"

"Who knows, maybe she's turned on by those things" Dean said, a silly smile in his lips "Or we can just- you know, a quickie, clothes on, straight to the-"

Sam raised his hands.

"Too much information! I don't wanna know, keep your Kamasutra to yourself"

His brother smirked. Sam frowned.

"Dean, we've got to stick together. If that girl appears and you ended like a ragdoll in the floor, you won't be able to fight back".

"Yeah, yeah. I know- Farewell, piercing gaze girl" he took a long sip from his beer, like a toast in honor of a deceased.

Suddenly, they heard a sob. At the other side of the bar, the waiter who Sam had asked about the town was hugging and patting the back of the waitress who had picked up the phone call.

"I know your son's going to be okay, just go to the hospital with him." they heard him say "I'll tell the boss"

They saw the girl flee away, her apron still on her waist.

"Heard what I heard?" Sam asked.

"You can say that"

Sam couldn't found out much more. A waitress absent, his "news provider" was too busy so they couldn't go on with the interview "for their book". He only could toom from him that the waitress' son had just had a heart attack… and he was only 8 years old. Bingo, Sam thought, through his mouth uttered "I'm really sorry". They didn't talk again about Foxter's suicide. Not that there were anymore to add to that.

When the brothers arrived to their motel room, it was past midnight. They decided they will take a couple of hours to sleep and will go to hospital early in the morning in their inspector suits, to find out something about the waitress' son. It wasn't a good idea to go already, even if they went "suited-up", because the mother would probably be too anguished to talk. They couldn't lose a potential witness so soon.

Exhausted, Dean collapsed into bed, still full clothed, but Sam didn't dare to go to sleep yet. If the girl appeared and he missed it, it could be too late to stop her from damaging his brother again. While they tried to know why she attacked her, the best he could do is protect him from her.

Sam started to feel cold. He wasn't sure anymore it was the time of the year or if maybe it was another thing. Unsettled, he look to Dean. He semeed to be sleeping; in the dim light, he noticed his eyes were closed and his chest was swaying up and down, slowly. Carefully, to not wake him up, Sam turned to him the hand where Dean was wearing the sensor. 59 bpm and steady. His brother was deep asleep. It'd been a long day for him, after all. A robbery, two weird heart failures and being chased by a little psycho ghost girl must be exhausting, Sam thought as he covered his brother with a thin but warm wool blanket.

He came back to the armchair and tried to put an order to every thought in his head. Maybe Ellie, in the anxious, vengeful confusion death awakens, was trying to kill those kids with what had killed her? Then, why those kids didn't suffered from arrhytmia like his brother? If Dean was just in the wrong place at the wrong moment, why hadn't he suffered a heart attack, like the kids? It was their age? It was any other thing?

Suddenly Dean took a deep breath through his nose and tossed in bed, interrumpting Sam's thoughts. When he leaned over his brother, he saw his eyelids moving, and his heart rate had gone up to 89. There was no reason to be afraid: he could just be dreaming.

Or maybe she was still there.

Instead of waking him up, the younger Winchester decided to take first a look around, his senses sharp in the dim light of the bed lamp. That girl only showed herself to Dean, but if he was lucky enough he could, at least, perceive where she was and scare her off. He thought about pouring salt on a ratio wide enough to protect his brother from her electromagnetic field, but he thought twice: if she was already there with them, he would trap her inside... with them. That's wasn't a good idea.

Sam decided to explore the room, at the same time keeping an eye on any possible variations in his brother's breathing. He took out a little hand mirror from his pocket; after all, he could only see the ghost girl through a looking-glass, and he had found one in his bedside table. The hunter went across the room, steadying his breathing to not lose track of his brother's checking everything through the small mirror. He entered the bathroom again, carefully, gun in one hand and flashlight in the other -they hadn't told the manager about the lightbulbs: the less he saw Dean's most-wanted face, the better-. But he found nothing. No cold spots, no goosebumps, no creepy little girl reflections in the mirror.

He got near his brother's bed again to find him still asleep, now snoring softly, his pulse down to 65. If it was a dream, it was peaceful again. If it was the girl, she wasn't there anymore.

Sam Winchester spent the rest of the night sitting at his brother's bed, salt-shots gun still in hand. Dawn light didn't take long to get its way through the half-closed window.