Disclaimer: Bite me.

A/N: Honesty time? This is literally just a quick little drabble I wrote up as an excuse because I want to update a bunch of stuff on here, haha. Though thank you guys—I'm getting a few more reviews now for stories, plus I've finally broken past the 700's. A few new things that I'm gonna be doing now… I'm gonna start posting the word count in the chapter name to make it easier for people to look through and choose a story—that way if you're in the mode to read a short one it's easier to choose a short one, or a longer one it's easier to see which ones are longer ones. I'm gonna go back and post the word count for all previous chapters… I'm really hoping that's not gonna be a bitch to do and not gonna screw with stuff. Guess we'll find out! (I'm also gonna update the summary for this story and my profile… so it's and 'updating' night). Until then, read this little 'out of nowhere' story, and please review. I terrified myself when I realized this story has been going on for nearly ten years… do I get a prize if I make it to ten years? Is there like an award for longest going on story? I didn't even know the internet has been going on this long… I feel old…

Title: A Ghost in the House
Genre: Supernatural
Summary: The bunker is haunted by a not-so-scary ghost that just wants to keep an eye on the boys.

A Ghost in the House

Sam and Dean knew the bunker couldn't be haunted; it was warded and sigiled from top to bottom. There were exceptions of course; Kevin Tran being the one that the Winchester's were most consciously aware of. He'd been attached to the place because not only had it been the place of his death, but because of all the crap that had been going on in heaven and hell. But Mrs. Tran had taken his spirit with her and presto-bango, his spirit was gone.

The bunker was quiet again, right?

A ghost can be attached to the place they are killed such as Keven Tran, or they can be attached to a remains like when Sam and Dean Winchester hunted the spirit of Melanie Merchant, or a spirit can even be held to a place by an object they were close to like in the case of Bobby's flask. It had been none of these three spirits, of course, which had been wandering the bunker for some time now.

It was late at night, and both Sam and Dean were asleep in their beds, and he made his rounds to check on them as he did every night.

"Sammy," a smile came to his lips.

The younger hunter was sprawled out on his bed face-down with one leg curled up. Ever since he was a baby Sam had been a stomach sleeper; his face often times smooshed into a pillow at an awkward angle. A closer look was taken and a frown crossed his face as he noticed the slight bruising on the side of Sam's face and the bandage on his right arm. They'd come back from a hunt and it looked like they'd, at least temporarily, gotten the short end of the stick.

"Sleep well Sam," he spoke softly even though he knew his voice wouldn't be heard.

A bottle of Tylenol and a half drank glass of water on the night stand stood this to be a hopeful possibility.

He moved down the hall and to the right where he got to Dean's room. Slightly messier as the older Winchester always was, he was nevertheless thankful to see that Dean was asleep. The hunt had been a tough one and true to big brother fashion Dean had made sure he had protected Sam and got the brunt end of the fight; fourteen stitches and nearly a severed tendon in his shoulder.

"You'll be okay though Dean."

Dean slept on his back; not from the pain of his injures, but because he'd always been a back sleeper. Easier to keep vigil and be able to jump up at a seconds' notice when he was coming to from sleep. Even despite having headphones securely placed over his ears (playing Metallica no doubt, he mused… Dean's own personal version of a lullaby), Dean would be able to hear any threat within a hundred meters and be on his feet in a second ready to fight and defend.

For the rest of the night he continued to watch over the two. It was easier at night—he couldn't come out during the day and risk being noticed in any way. Hell, he didn't always stay the entire night, but times like now when the boys… his boys were hurt, he wanted to make sure they were okay. As he looked over at the journal tucked away on Dean's desk, John Winchester smiled sadly; he would never leave his sons.

The End.