Heyy sooo back again with a really long chapter~ This takes place in the episode "It's a Terrible Life"

I feel I don't write enough Castiel haha (even though he's my fav) I wanna do a chapter in his POV eventually, I just don't know when. I also plan to do the same for Bobby, Crowley, Kevin, and Charlie. Like their reactions and what not.

Reviews would be much appreciated!

I do not own Supernatural

It was just like any other day at the office. Well, not that the day hadn't started yet, Sam was just in the elevator heading toward her job. Technical support, oh joy.

It was the worst. Ninety-nine percent of all the problems were that they hadn't turned the damned thing off then on again. Just plain annoying, this job was. She wondered how she ended up with something with a job she hated so much.

The elevator stopped and woke her from her musings. She watched as a man came in. He smiled at her, acknowledging her, and went back to his phone.

She stared for a minute before he said, "Enjoying the view?"

This man… just everything about him seemed familiar, comforting even. "Do I know you?" She finally decided to ask, deciding to ignore his comment. She trained herself to ignore comments like that these past few weeks, since the office comprised mostly of men.

He looked up. "I don't think so. I think I'd remember you from anywhere."

She narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He only shrugged. "Don't mind me, ma'am."

She continued to stare after him as he got off of the elevator. He just looked so familiar, she couldn't quite place it. However, after he was gone, the strange feeling faded and she continued on to her job. After a phone call, her neighbor stood and leaned over the cubicle. Sam knew what he was doing, he did this every day. "Hey, lookin fine as always."

"No."

"Quick coffee break?"

She sighed. Coffee did sound good, after all. "Fine."

As they walk, the man tries to small talk her. She replies back with one-worded responses, until they walked past another man. "Paul, time for a refuel, buddy."

Paul looked back to them. "Sorry, no time."

"Since when? Dude, we get paid by the hour."

"Working."

"Ok."

Then, Paul left. Sam couldn't shake the strange feeling off again, and watched as he went. "He seems stressed." She noted sympathetically.

He nodded. "Freaked because he got busted searching porn off the internet."

Sam's eyes widened, then she scoffed. "No way, when?"

He shrugged. "Got sent up to the HR yesterday. Guess they put the fear of God in him."

Sam nearly laughed at that. Fear of the big man upstairs? Sure, it is an exaggeration, but some of the higher-ups in this office seemed to do just that. But then, why did it amuse her?

Not much later than that, the man who had been accompanying her headed over to the supply closet and pocketed packets and packets of pencils. "Ian, please-"

"Just doing a little shopping, running low at home." Ian replied with a smile. Sam handed him a cup of coffee, taking a sip of her own."So, Sam, had any of those dreams lately?" Not this again. Ever since she opened up about them, he'd always been after her. Sometimes, in a mocking matter. "What? Don't be like that. Come on, it's the highlight of my day."

She grumbled, feeling violated all over again. "I never should have told you in the first place."

He chuckled. "They're genius! Don't hold out on me, dude. Share with the class."

"You're just going to be a dick about it."

"What? I won't say a word. Total respect. Go." Sam blushed and drank her coffee. "Classic! How much did you play when you were a kid? Oh my-ok, so you- rescuing the Grim Reaper. That's-you're a hero. I mean, thank god we got Hermione Granger here to save us from the apocalypse."

"Dick." Sam said through gritted teeth.

Ian grinned back. "Wizard."

Soon, it's the end of her day, and she stood in the elevator with a few other people, including the man from earlier she got strange vibes from. Vibes of warmth, safety. It wasn't long before they were alone in the elevator, and Sam caught herself staring at him again. "Can I ask you a question?" She finally said.

He smiled back to her. "Anything."

"What do you think of ghosts?"

He paused. This didn't seem right. "Ghosts?" Then, he laughed. "Uh, didn't give it much thought."

"Vampires?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What? Why?"

"Because I've been having weird dreams lately. You know what I mean?"

"No… not really."

Sam was desperate. "So you've never had any… weird dreams?" There wasn't any other way to put it, really. But she only hoped that he had the same dreams. She felt they were connected somehow.

"All right, look, lady, I don't know you, ok? But I'm…. I'm going to do a public service and let you know that you overshare." With that, the elevator door opened and he was gone. Suddenly, the air seemed much colder without him.

The rest of the day went by just fine. Ian let her know that he got an email, ordering to report to the HR. Paul was stressing out over the littlest things, but everything else appeared normal.

Her thoughts always went back to the man in the elevator. She didn't even know his name.

It was regular for the rest of the day. Well, until Paul decided to commit suicide in the microwave, the stench of blood and burnt human skin filling the office. It was odd because he was just two weeks from retirement, actual freedom. Something which she envied.

Also, Ian started acting differently, ever since his visit to the HR.

The next day, she never expected to see him dead. At the crime scene, however, that same man from the elevator was talking to the officer, and they made brief eye contact before she decided she needed to leave.

Back at her cubicle, she received another call, as if it was business as usual. "Tech support, this is Sam-"

"I need to see you in my office. Now."

It was him, the man from the elevator.

She decided to go as quickly as she could.

"Come in. Shut the door." Sam came in and closed the door behind herself. "Who the hell are you?"

She winced. "I'm not sure I know."

"What the hell does that mean?"

She sighed. "Samantha Wesson. I started here three weeks ago."

"All right. You cornered me in the elevator talking about ghosts. And now-"

Sam's hopes flew right up. Things might be going her way. "Now what?"

He looked her up and down again, as if looking to see if she was safe, someone he could trust and open up to. He shook his head. "Now nothing." He sighed. "I, uh… so you started working here three weeks ago?" She nodded, slightly disappointed. "Me too." Sam watched as he unscrewed a bottle. Noticing her stare, he stated, "It's Master Cleanse. You tried it? Phenomenal. Detoxes you like nobody's business."

While he was drinking that, Sam felt for some reason that the drink never suited him. It made her wring her hands. "When you were in that bathroom with Ian, did you see something?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I saw."

Her eyes widened. "Wait… are you saying that- did you see a ghost?"

"I was freaking out. The guy penciled his damn neck."

Her hopes were flying back up. "You did, didn't you?" Maybe they could work this out, after all. "Ok, listen. What if these suicides aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something supernatural?"

He threw his hands in the air. "So, what, ghosts are real? And they're responsible for all the dead bodies around here? Is that what you're telling me?"

Realizing that they were both standing, he pulls out a seat for her and they both sit down, in unision. "I know it's crazy, but yes. That's what I'm telling you."

"Based on what?"

Sam hesitated. It wasn't really based off of anything, was it? "Instinct." She replied lamely.

He sighed. "Well, I've got the same instinct."

"Seriously?" She asked excitedly. "You know those dreams I've been telling you about? I was dreaming about ghosts." And, well, a few other monsters as well. She just decided to narrow it down for him.

"Yeah." He nodded.

"And it turns out that there's a real ghost."

"So you're telling me that you're dreams are special visions and you're some kind of psychic?"

Sam scoffed. "No. I mean, that would be nuts. I'm just saying that something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So I've been digging around a little." She pulled out a paper bag, which held papers of the emails that were sent to the victims. "I think I found a connection between the two guys."

"You broke into their email accounts?" He asked incredulously.

She shrugged. "I used some skills that I apparently have to satisfy my curiosity."

"Nice. Name's Dean Smith, by the way."

She grinned. For some reason, it felt good being praised by him. "Yeah, ok. So it turns out both Ian and Paul both got this same email telling them to report to HR, room fourteen fourty-four."

Dean nodded. "HR's on seven."

"Exactly."

"Should we go check this out?"

I thought you'd never ask. "Like, right now?" She replied, incredulous.

"No, it's getting late. You're right."

"But I'm dying to check this out right now."

"Right?"

As they moved toward room fourteen forty-four, Dean stayed close to Sam. It felt weird for her at first, but then it just seemed right. Like they were meant to do this together, have each other's backs.

When they got closer to the room, they heard screaming, and rushed to the door. As it turns out, it was locked.

They backed up. Sam brought up her leg and thrust it out, breaking open the door. Dean looked very impressed with her strength.

They walked in, and saw that a shelf had fallen over the man. They hurried to take the shelf off, but as they were trying to do that, Sam was flung aside and Dean was shoved over. While Sam was still trying to recover, Dean came up and swung an iron wrench at him, and the man dissipated.

"How did you know to do that?" Sam asked as they helped the man get out from under the shelf.

"I have no idea."

It was late, and Dean had invited Sam over to his apartment for a debriefing. She obliged. "Holy crap, dude."

Dude? Am I a dude now? Sam wondered. She was still shaken up from the encounter, and yet, she still felt comfortable enough that she wasn't actually shaking. "Yeah." She agreed. "I could use a beer."

Dean smiled, amused. "Beer, eh? Well, sorry miss, but I'm on the Cleanse. I got rid of all the carbs in the house."

This man was unbelievable, she thought. "Hey, how the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?" She asked, bringing the conversation back to the events of what had just happened.

Dean handed Sam a water bottle, which she took begrudgingly. "Crazy, right? And nice job kicking down that door, too. That was very Jet Li. What are you, like a black belt or something?"

"No." She answered absentmindedly. "I have no idea how I did that. It's like… we've done this before."

Dean sighed. "What do you mean, before? Like Shirley MacLaine before?"

Sam wasn't even sure what that meant, but she assumed it wasn't like what she was experiencing. "No. I-I just can't shake this feeling like I-like I don't belong here. You know? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle."

"I think most people who work in a cubicle would feel the same way." Dean grumbled.

"No. Well, look, it's more than that. Like, I don't like my job. I don't like this town. I don't like my clothes…" Which was a pencil skirt and a button-up blouse, tucked in. It was uncomfortable, and didn't allow much movement. "I don't like my own last name. I don't know how else to explain it, except that...it feels like I should be doing something else. There's just something in my blood. Like I was destined for something different. What about you? You ever feel that way?" Yes, finally she could put something she had felt for the past three weeks into words to someone she could trust. No, Ian didn't count. For some reason, she trusted Dean.

Dean shifted his weight. "I don't believe in destiny. I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though."

To her, he sounded like he had a plan. So, she decided to ask, "All right, so, what do we do now?"

"We do what we do best, Sammy. Research."

Nobody called her Sammy. Ever. Yet, it seemed comforting when Dean called her that nickname. She smiled, which he didn't notice because he was pulling out his laptop and searching the web. She slid down into a chair next to him so she could see. "Oh, jackpot."

"What you got?" She asked.

"This is like, the best site ever. Real, actual, ghost hunters. These guys are genius. Check it out." The website was titled 'Ghostfacers' which was the most ridiculous name in Sam's mind. It was a total rip-off of Ghostbusters.

"Instructional videos." Yet, they could be helpful.

Dean pulled up a video of the two guys. They introduced themselves as Ed and Harry. "We know why you're watching."

"You've got a problem."

Sam looked over to Dean for a moment, who actually looked interested in the video content. "A ghost problem."

Harry tried to explain. "A ghost-related problem. A ghost-it's like a ghost-adjacent pr-it's like a problem that's-and the ghost is-"

"Whatever. You've come to the right place. The only decent place, really, because the Ghostfacers know how to solve it."

The first step was to figure out the history of the ghost in question. Sam was able to pull up information, and a complete history of the man, impressing Dean even further. They figured the man was a slight workaholic, since he is still watching over the company.

They also learned that salt and iron were super effective against ghosts. "Next little trick we learned from those useless douchebags-"

"That we hate." Harry interrupted. "Well, except maybe the girl. She was a little nicer to us."

"You just think she was nicer because she's hot, dude." Ed replied. "Ugh. The Winchesters. They suck ass."

"Affirmative. Suck ass, major."

So, they learned that the Ghostfacers hate the Winchesters. That doesn't really help them.

Another thing they learned is that guns are useful, and they had to burn the remains. But they figured out that this guy was cremated, so they have to find other remains. Like a personal belonging, or something.

They decided to look for the remains ASAP, and headed back over to the office. A guard caught Sam while they were searching, and in the end, he ended up dead in the elevator. Not Sam's fault, of course, even though it very much looked like it with his blood splattered on her shirt and the floor of the elevator.

Dean tried not to mention anything, and instead saying that he thought he found something, which was a pair of gloves.

They manage to fight off the ghost as a team, and burn the gloves, dissipating the ghost in the end. They escaped with only minor injuries. Well, Dean's were minor. Sam convinced herself that she escaped with minor injuries as well, (large glass shards managed to make their way into her abdomen, though not too deep) though Dean looked like he was going to fuss over them any minute.

At Dean's office, Dean reached for the first-aid kit, and handed a gauze to Sam. "Man, I gotta tell you, that was the most fun I've ever had in my life."

"Same."

"Was a hell of a workout too, wasn't it?"

Sam nodded, still panting and slightly jarred from the experience, applying the gauze around her stomach. "We should keep doing this."

"...Hey, you need help with that?"

Her hands were shaking as she tried to tie the gauze at the end. The adrenaline was taking a while to fade off, it seems. He had already wrapped his hands, since he had only gotten injured from breaking the glass case. She got injured while fighting the ghost.

"Please." She said quietly. Dean went over to finish the wrapping. "Thanks."

"I don't know if we should keep doing this. Look at how you turned out, you could end up dead."

Sam was surprised that this complete stranger was so concerned about her health, but only shook her head. "No, my well-being doesn't matter. The lives of other people, however. I mean, I'm sure there are more ghosts out there, we could be saving much more people."

"So, what? We quit our jobs, head out on the road?"

"Exactly."

Dean paused. "How would we live?"

Sam hesitated. "Uh…"

"You gotta be kidding me. How would we get by? With stolen credit cards? Huh? Eating diner food drenched in saturated fats? Sharing a crap motel room every night?" There was no question, he was lecturing her.

"That's all just details." She countered.

"Details are everything. You don't wanna go fighting ghosts without any health insurance."

She had enough. "All right. Um, confession."

"What?"

"Remember those dreams I told you about fighting ghosts?"

"Yeah?"

"I was fighting them with you." Dean paused, with his mouth slightly open. This was when she finally connected things. She realized who she fought with back when they were fighting against the ghost, but failed to mention it until now. "We were these, like, hunters, and we were friends. More like family, really. I mean, what if that's who we really are? I mean, you saw us back there, working together. The ghost was scrambling people's brains. What if it scrambled ours?"

"That's insane." Dean protested.

"Is it? Think about it for just one second. What if we think this is our life, but it's not?" She's trying to get it into his head, but it doesn't seem to be working.

"Hey, man, the ghost is dead and we're still standing. I mean, I'm sorry, but-"

Sam threw her hands up. "Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be."

"No. I'm Dean Smith, okay? Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, and my sister's name is Jo." Stanford, really? That seemed pretty impressive.

But Sam didn't have any of that. He sounded like he had a much better life, she couldn't believe it. "When was the last time you talked to them? To any of them?"

Dean's face fell. "Okay, you're upset. You're upset, you're confused-"

"Yeah, 'cause I only moved here 'cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Gabe. But I called his number and I got a damn animal hospital." Her story wasn't so great as Dean's.

For some reason, Dean looked angry, but he only sighed. "Okay. What are you saying? Are you trying to say that my family isn't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on."

"All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. And I know-I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else. You're not just some corporate douchebag. This isn't you. I know you." By the end of her rant, her voice began to waver.

He was shaken up, though, seeing her like this. Yet, he used his authoritative tone against her, remaining strong. "Know me? You don't know me, lady. Leave."

So, with a final huff, she left. Fine. If he wasn't going to come with her, she could face the world on her own. She didn't need Dean, she never needed him in the first place.

Fed up with Dean, fed up with this entire job, she decided to leave it all behind her. Everyone stared at her as she uttered the words, "I quit."

When Sam came out of the office, she saw Dean leaning against the Impala, and everything was clear again. She saw the car, her home on wheels, and everything was right again, no longer foggy dreams or visions.

"I'll explain everything in the car." Dean said. "Let's leave this hell, get something to eat. I'm starving."

"Good idea." Sam agreed.

Saving people, hunting things. That was what they were meant to do together, as a family.