Part II

I'm Breaking In, Shaping Up,

Then Checking Out On The Prison Bus

-Imagine Dragons

...

"Then you guys are screwed. I can't do it, Cas." A tear rolled down his cheek. How is he supposed to stop the friggin' apocalypse?! "I just can't do it."

There was a sniffle from the doorway, and Dean looked up to see a Morgan the was about to burst into a fit. Lauren as behind her, a comforting and solid wall of support. "You have such a low opinion of yerself, Dean? I believe in you. We. Believe in you. Dean, yer not alone. We will proudly stand with you in the grim future. Us, and our few allies. Don't doubt yerself. We don't doubt you, and neither does God."

Morgan slipped out of the room and Cas followed her. "How do you know that God is with us, Morgan?"

She sighed and rubbed her newly tanned face. "Few weeks ago, I was in a chapel. The pastor comes up and I start unloadin' my problems on him like a sap. He told me this story 'bout this friend of his that got killed on a mission trip. Told that we had to trust in the Lord's plan and that He was with us."

"You think he was God?"

"No. I know he wasn't. His name was Simon-Peter."

Cas cocked his head and scrunched his brow. "The disciple?"

"There another dude who watches Heaven's gates?"

...

The clock buzzed at six and Dean turned to flip it off. His fiancée groaned and burrowed into his back. He chuckled. "Come on, lazy. Up."

"Don' wanna," she mumbled and she wrapped her arms around him. "Can't we stay here all day?"

"I'd love to, but I have work and you have training. And a meeting with the wedding planner, Ms. soon-to-be Morgan Smith." She groaned and rolled out of the bed. Dean laughed at her bedhead and she flipped him off.

Dean put his mug under the coffee maker and turned to see his fiancée making waffles and ham. He pulled out the strawberries from the fridge. They sat at the table and played footsie while pretending to concentrate of their food. Morgan let loose a happy giggle that made her almost seem to glow.

Dean changed into his work slacks and moved to the living room. Morgan came out a second later, decked out in her athletic gear and carrying her track spikes. Her eyes traveled his body appreciatively with a little smirk. He bent down and gave her a soft kiss.

"See you later, Dean."

"Knock 'em dead."

She smiled at the man she loved. "I always do."

Dean drove to the office and settled into his work. Roy called and Frank stopped by a little later. Dean smiled at the kissy face in the note that Morgan put in his salad.

"Mr. Adler."

"Dean," his boss said with a smile. He slapped Dean's shoulder. "Good stuff."

"Good stuff?"

"Big things. Good stuff."

"Good stuff." Dean smiled.

(If only working was that easy... :-( )

Jim called a little bit before he got off and Dean spent some time fiddling with a pen and talking to him. "Oh I hear you. No, I haven't been to the gym in ages. My fiancée goes every day, but what do I expect with her training for the Olympics? Carrying a little bloat around myself. It's a sedentary lifestyle, my man, no two ways. —All right, tell me one more time. You said lemon and—what was it? Cayenne and maple syrup, are you serious? How much did you lose?"

He slipped some of the files into his case and headed out. His phone dinged with a text from Morgan as he stepped into the elevator.

"Do I know you?" the guy who was in the elevator asked. He looked like tech support.

"I don't think so."

"I'm sorry, man, you just look really familiar."

"Save it for the health club, pal," Dean said, a little weirded out by the dude. Dean was relieved when the elevator dinged and he could step out. Now all he had to worry about was helping Morgan choose flowers.

...

Sam's phone rang and he reached over to answer it. "Tech support, this is Sam Wesson. Okay. Uh, well, did you try turning it off and then on?" He fiddled with his bobblehead. "Okay, go ahead and turn it off. No no no, just, just off. All right, give it a second. Turn it back on. Okay, is it printing now? Great. Anytime."

(Totally something I would call tech support and do. :) )

Sam flipped off the phone and Ian rolled his chair over by Sam's desk.

"Hey."

Sam turned to look at Ian. "Yo."

"What do you think of Lauren?"

Sam looked over at the aforementioned woman. "She's okay."

Ian licked his lips. "Might have to hit that."

"Dude, gross. She's my cousin."

"So you could get me in with her?"

"Go near my cousin, I punch you. Okay?"

"Oh, come on, man!"

"You're delusional," Lauren called from her cubicle. Sam laughed as Ian blushed like a tomato.

"Coffee break?" he asked, ready to get away from the mortifying woman.

"Yeah, for sure." They got up and made their way towards the break room. Ian spotted Paul sitting at his computer, stressing about something.

"Paul. Time for a refuel, buddy," Ian stated.

"Sorry, no time."

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

"Working." Lauren peeked over her cubicle wall to stare at her cousin and his friends.

"You okay there, Paul?"

"Can't talk. Working."

Lauren glanced at her cousin. "This normal?"

"No," Sam said, his brow furrowed at the friend's personality changed.

"Huh," Lauren said with a shrug.

...

Lauren stepped into the elevator to find her boss's fiancée already in it. The woman was in great shape; all tanned muscles and long blonde hair. Lauren was a little jealous. They stared at each other for an intense moment.

Lauren cleared her throat. "I feel like I should know you."

The woman flashed her a smile. "Same. Name's Morgan Christian. You?"

"Lauren Michaelson. Nice to meet you."

...

Sam made it through the day with only one intense dream and called it a win. He stepped into the elevator and saw the same man from yesterday.

"Can I ask you a question?" he said suddenly.

"Look, man, I told you, I'm not into the, uh, yeah. I have a fiancée named Morgan," the guy stuttered.

"Oh dude, come on, I'm not either. I just wanna ask you one question."

Dean looked around. There was no escape. Great.

"Sure."

"What do you think about ghosts?"

"Ghosts?"

"Do you believe in them?"

Dean laughed. This guys's a fruit cake.

"All right, look, man, I don't know you, okay? But I'm gonna do a public service and, uh, let you know that—that you overshare." Dean left the elevator as soon as it dinged and tried to shake off the weird feeling the tech support dude gave off. Besides, Morgan wanted to tell him something important.

...

Lauren had a quiet day, ate a sandwich for lunch, chatted a bit with Morgan when she came to drop off Mr. Smith's lunch, sat through Paul's panic attack... Oh yeah, and basically got eye-fucked by Ian when he had to report HR. But, ya know, normal day.

... 

They found Paul Blofis dead, head exploded by the microwave. Dean stood with his coworkers as they wheeled the body out. He gripped Morgan tight against his side, worried for what seeing the corpse would do to her. He turned to talk to one of the suits, the arm around his fiance offering whatever support he could​.

"Something about this seem not right to you?" he asked

"Uh, yeah, try the whole thing. I'm telling you, man, I'll never eat popcorn again," the suit answered.

"Tell me about it," Morgan said with quiet steel.

After Morgan left for the gym, Dean started looking into Paul Blofis' files. The man had been a slacker, got busted for porn a few days ago. But what's funny? He had two weeks to retirement and then he blew himself away (or up).

...

Sam rolled his chair over next to Ian's desk. Something about Paul's suicide just wasn't adding up. Ian was wearing his yellow shirt for the first time in forever, typing away furiously on his keyboard.

"Hey. Why would someone kill themselves two weeks before they were supposed to retire? I mean, Paul was two weeks from freedom. He should have been happy, right?"

"I don't have time for this, Sam," Ian stated worriedly. Sam laughed.

"That's very funny. Next thing you tell me, you're not interested in Lauren anymore." Ian gave Sam a look. What the hell happened to Ian? It reminded him of what happened to Paul a few days ago. "Hey Lauren," he called. "Come here a sec."

Lauren sidled up to her cousin. "What's up, cuz?" He pulled her back towards his desk.

"Take a look at Ian. Does he remind you of someone?"

"Come ta think of it, yeah. Reminds me of Paul before he tried to become popcorn."

"Something weird is going on. Thanks, Lauren." He rolled back over to Ian.

"What's with you? HR bust your balls or something? You're wearing the shirt. Did you shave? You're acting like Paul did, you okay?"

"Can't talk now. Working." Ian's phone rang and he rushed to pick it up with almost reverence. "Tech support, this is Ian. Be right up. Gotta go up to twenty-two, speak to a manager." He pulled of his head set and made his way towards their boss's door.

...

Morgan turned to smile at her sister. "Happy birthday, 'Ren."

Lauren beamed and laughed through her adrenaline high. "Thanks, sis. Just what I always wanted: a cracked rib, case of Coors, and broken warding sigils."

They clinked bottles. "Anytime, lil' sis, anytime."

.

"Wait, so you guys do acid in cross country?!" Lauren squealed.

"Morgan, are you doing drugs? As your guardian, it is my job to keep you two happy and healthy. Last I checked, drugs fall under 'Bad'." Zeke looked at her with concerned eyes.

"What? No! Zeke, I swear I'm not doing acid. It's LSD: Long Slow Distance. I'm running farther, not shooting up!" Morgan screeched.

Morgan sat up gasping for air, sorely wishing she hadn't fallen asleep on the couch. The dreams had started a few weeks ago, along with a voice calling, demanding that she fight this influence. They had gotten worse since she met Lauren.

...

There was a knock at the door and Dean looked up from the emailed shopping list he was typing for Morgan.

"Hi. Ian, is it? Yeah, come on in. Yesterday you filled out a 445-T(ie fighter XD ) and no problem, just a few errors when we did your switch over to (Monte) Vista. So I'm sure you're used to filling out the dash-ROUS's, am I right?"

"Oh, no." The guy looked like he was about ready to cry. "I failed Sandover. I failed the company."

Ian rans out the room and Dean chased him, ending up in the bathroom. Ian stabbed his neck with a pencil, slumping to the ground. An old man stared at them through the mirror.

...

Lauren snuck up to eavesdrop on her cousin and the the boss. They had a conversation about HR and the suicides and room fourteen forty-four. When they went to investigate, she followed after them.

She hid in the shadows as the boys strolled down the hall. Lauren didn't hesitate, however, when all three heard a man screaming from their destination. She only got Bitch Face No. 67 and a odd look from their boss. The door was locked, and Sam kicked it in. Problem solved.

They rushed in to lift the shelf off of the dude and the old man that Dean saw in the bathroom appeared. He flung Dean into the wall and shoved Sam. Lauren turned and saw a rusty wrench with what looked like a bit taken out of it lying on the ground. Picking it up, she turned towards the ghost, which vanished on contact with the metal.

...

Dean gripped his Master CleanseTM with shaking hands. "Holy crap, dude."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "I could use a beer."

Morgan padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. "Dean? You didn't tell me you were gonna have friends from work over."

"Don't worry about it, Morgan, something just happened earlier. Go get some sleep."

"This have anythin' to do with the suicides at Sandover?"

Lauren spoke up, "We think so." The boys glared. "What? She deserved to know."

"What now?" Morgan asked as she sat down.

"We do what I do best. Research," Dean stated confidently. (I couldn't keep a straight face reading this while editing.)

Dean sat at the counter with Morgan hovering over his shoulder. The cousins staked claim on the dinner table.

"Oh, jackpot," Dean stated. Morgan cocked her head as she looked at the site her fiancé had pulled up.

"What you got?" Sam asked as they made their way to the counter.

"I just found the best site ever. Real, actual ghost hunters."

Lauren snorted. "'The Ghostfacers'? They look so geeky!"

"Dunno. They seem pretty legit," Morgan muttered. She reached over Dean's shoulder to click on a video.

"We know why you're watching," Ed stated.

"You've got a problem," Harry chimed in.

"A ghost problem."

"Damn straight," Lauren muttered.

"A ghost-related problem. A ghost—it's like a ghost-adjacent pr—it's like a problem that's—and the ghost is—" Wow. Eloquent.

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

"Period."

"Watch and learn."

"See, the first step in any supernatural fight:"

"Figure out what you're up against," they both stated.

They all glanced over at Sam's laptop. There was an article on Sandover's founder, article included.

"That's him. That's the ghost." Morgan looked questioningly at Dean. "Tell you later."

"P. T. Sandover. Died 1916. Devoted his life to his work. No wife, no kids," Sam stated. "Used to say he was the company, and his very blood pumped through the building.

"Creepy. What's next? The Stay Puft Man?" Lauren hissed.

Morgan leaned farther over Dean to read the article. "Look. Turns out this ain't the first time people started killin' themselves in the buildin'. Buncha dudes took the high dive without a pool in the 1930s."

"So P. T. Sandover, protector of the company. His ghost wakes up and becomes active during times of grave economic distress," Dean reiterated.

"Well, I mean, the worst time we've seen since the Great Depression—" Sam started.

"Is now. Yeah, now sucks. My portfolio's in the sewer. I don't even wanna talk about it."

"So Sandover's helpin' the bottom line, makin' perfect worker bees. So devoted to the company that they would commit hara-kiri if they failed it," Lauren said is a disgusted tone. Morgan clicked play.

"Once you've got that thing in your sights—"

"You kill it," the Ghostfacers chanted.

"Using special ghost-hunting weapons."

"First, salt. It's like acid to ghosts."

"Burny acid. Not LSD." Morgan snorted and smiled like LSD was an inside joke, it prickled something in Lauren's memory too.

"Next up, iron."

"Pure power in your hand."

"Dissipates ghosts instantly."

"If you want to take it to the next level, you can use brass knuckles made of iron."

"We learned that from those super awesome hunting gods, the Michaelsons."

"Next little trick. We learned this from those useless douchebags—"

"That we hate," Harry cut in.

"The Winchesters."

"Gun," Harry stated, holding up a shotgun.

"Shotgun shell. Pack it up with fresh rock salt."

"Very effective."

"Winchesters still suck ass, though." Morgan's eyes got wide as she ran for their bedroom. Buried under her track spikes and a pile of dirty laundry was a purse she hadn't used in forever.

"Don't think this is the time fer accessorizin'," Lauren drawled from the doorway.

Morgan pulled out the bag and found a little knife, iron brass knuckles, a silver shortsword-lookin' thing, and a shaker of salt. "Shuddup, Whore."

"Slut."

They sat back down.

"The aforementioned super-annoying Winchester douchenozzles also taught us this one other thing. You have to burn the remains. The Michaelsons confirmed this."

"Okay, this next part gets a little gross. Sometimes you might have to dig up the body. Sorry."

"It's illegal in some states."

"All states."

"Possibly all states," Ed compromised.

"Now, if the deceased has been cremated—"

"Don't panic."

"Just gotta look for some other remains."

"A hair in a locket, maybe. Fingernails. Baby teeth."

"Genetic material. You know what we're talking about."

"Go find it."

"Fight well, young lions."

"Godspeed," Ed said with a fake sniffle.

...

All four of them slipped into room 1444 when everyone had left for the day. Morgan stated that the room was too creepy for her and slipped into the hall to look else where in the building. Lauren followed her. There was a flutter behind them, like a dinosaur-dove.

When they turned, the sound revealed itself to be a man with severe eyes and a trench coat that seemed to swallow him. "Lauren, Morgan. I don't have long. The situation here is very real, and very dangerous. Stay away from Mr. Adler; he's dangerous."

Lauren rolled her eyes. "Riiight. Okay. You can go back to the animal farm now. I'm sure there's some very nice people that can help you there."

Morgan's phone rang. When she looked up, the crazy was gone. She pressed the accept button. "Neo's not here at the moment. Can I take a message?"

"I think we found it."
...

Dean pulled a first-aid kit out of his desk, turning to attend to the gash Morgan got across her forehead.

"Man, I gotta tell you, I've never had so much fun in my life," Dean huffed as he cleaned off the blood.

"We should keep doing this," Lauren stated.

"There's gotta be other ghosts out there. We could help a lot of people," Morgan said with a hiss as Dean scrubbed too hard.

"Right, we'd be like those Winstons and Mitches or whatever their nmes were," Dean stated sarcastically. "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?"

"That's all just details," Sam said lightly.

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

"Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be," Sam ground out.

"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. My fiance is Morgan Christian, her parents are Cas and Anna."

"When was the last time you talked to your family? When's the last time Morgan talked to hers?"

"Sam, calm down. Yer upset er confused-" Morgan said.

"Yeah, 'cause I only moved here 'cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number and I got a damn animal hospital!"

"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, I ain't Douglas Quaid," Dean ground out.

"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. Morgan isn't an olympic model, me and my cousin aren't worker bees. This isn't you. I know you."

"Know me? You don't know me, pal, and you don't know my fiancée. You should go."

...

Morgan clicked stop on her watch and stumbled to where her water lay at the edge of the track. There was clapping at the edge of the stands. A short man stood there, a happy smirk on his face.

"Not bad, kiddo. Now granted, if you were the Messenger's kid you'd be faster. But what do you expect? Your daddy was always the slow one."

"Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Mr. Adler."

She snorted. "Yeah right. And I'm Batman."

"All right, all right. You got me. I'm Zachariah, Cas' superior." Morgan gave him a confused look, and he clicked his fingers. She remembered. Everything.

"Please tell me that The Superior isn't a dickwad like yer sorry mug. Yer like Clarence's evil double. Honestly, it's kinda creepy."

Zach laughed. "No. Cas's precious superior is above even me."

"What do ya want, then? Cas told us not to trust you."

"Smart angel. See, Morgan, my boss wants you dead, and the other head honcho doesn't. So, when your usefulness has run it's course, and my brother comes to his senses, I won't hesitate to kill you."

Morgan bristled and dove for her bag where her angel blade was stashed, when she rose, Zach was gone.