When they went back to the asylum, the world had gone dark, and Deja really wasn't looking forward to traipsing through the shadowy halls of an abandoned asylum full of pissed of, disturbed spirits. She didn't know if the boys noticed, and she didn't say anything about it as she checked the salt rounds she'd stuffed in her pocket for safe keeping and kept her sawed off shotgun in hand. They hadn't even walked through the door when her sixth sense returned, but stronger now that the ghosts were actually out to play. Sam and Dean walked in front of her, Sam holding the flashlight and a video camera in the lead while Dean shouldered their weapons bag and held their EMF reader.

As they stepped through the door into the south wing, Deja repressed a shiver, walking a half step closer to her group. Dean glanced back, eyebrows raising slightly when he saw that Deja had started walking closer.

"You okay back there, Deja? You're suspiciously quiet," he commented. Deja slipped into place between Sam and Dean, finger tapping against her weapon absentmindedly.

"Have I ever mentioned how much I hate ghosts? I mean, I know they're, like, seventy percent of this job, but they still freak me out," Deja muttered. Dean turned back to give her an odd look while the EMF continued to buzz and go off in his hand.

"You're scared of ghosts?" he asked in disbelief. Deja scoffed.

"Scared? No, scared implies I can't function around them. No, spiders I'm scared of, dolls make me paranoid and creep me out. Ghosts freak me out. There's a difference. I can still gank a ghost, and I can stand in a room with a few dolls."

"But you can't handle an eight legged insect?" Dean finished, and even in the darkness of the asylum hall she could see the judgmental look on his face.

Deja shuddered. "Once they hit a certain size, no way. That thing needs to die and disappear or get far, far away from me."

"Wow," Dean said, turning his attention forward so Deja couldn't see his face. Sam hit Dean's arm.

"Look who's talking! Flying," Sam said simply.

"Clowns," Dean returned with a glare at Sam.

"Okay, let's not start an argument about phobias while we're trying to hunt some vengeful spirits in a dark haunted asylum, how about that?" Deja griped, gripping her weapon a little tighter as they continued down the hall. "How are the EMF readings?"

Dean sighed, but dropped the previous conversation, glancing down at the device in his hand. "Lighting up big time," Dean announced.

"This place is orbing like crazy," Sam added, and Dean and Deja leaned in to see what Sam was talking about. Since Deja was in between the two, that simple movement to see the camera brought Dean into her personal space, mere inches from her face. She couldn't help but look at him for a split second because of his proximity, and when he locked gazes with her he winked, which caused her to roll her eyes before turning her attention back to the camera.

Like Sam said, white flares were all over the cameras video window, which made Deja slightly uncomfortable. And yet...she didn't feel threatened by them. Uncomfortable that they were clearly there, yes, but threatened that they were going to try to drive her into a psychotic killer, no.

"There's probably multiple spirits out and about," Dean commented, looking back to his EMF reader.

"If these unrecovered bodies are causing the haunting..." Sam said quietly.

"We've got to find them and burn them," Dean finished. "Just be careful though, the only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit is a pissed off spirit of a psycho killer."

"See, they bother you too," Deja muttered.

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," Dean returned without glancing back. Deja, however, did glance back when she felt chills go down her spine, a soft whoosh of air that was too soft to be considered a gasp making it past her lips at the sensation. As she turned, she managed to catch a glimpse of something disappearing into the hall behind them on their right a moment before Sam and Dean turned around to look.

"Did you see something, Jennifer Love Hewitt?" Dean asked, and since the hairs on the back of her neck were still standing up on end, Deja decided to ignore the comment.

"Yes...but not what we're looking for. Just keep going," Deja murmured.

"How do you know?" Sam asked, the beam from his flashlight now carefully scanning the hall directly behind them.

"Because I'm not feeling any immediate danger and it's not coming at us with murderous intent, so I vote leave the spirit alone and keep moving," Deja said, nudging both of their arms forward. "I hate this place," she added in a mutter under her breath.

"Well, just don't get lost and you should be fine," Dean replied, the trio continuing down the hall at a steady pace. Eventually they came to where Sam and Dean had their sibling spat when they'd first come to investigate, the hall splitting off in three directions. Sam went left into the room he'd argued with Dean in, Dean went straight ahead, which left Deja to go right, where light was streaming in through double doors from outside.

Deja was a little hesitant to go into the room by herself, her spine tingling like an EMF going haywire, and yet the dangerous presence they were hunting felt distant, like it was lurking in the shadows. She knew it was there, but it hadn't come to do them harm...yet.

Deja had made it partially into the room when Sam let out a yell, causing Deja to whip back around and sprint across the hall. Since Sam's room was adjacent to the one she'd been in, she immediately saw the ghost woman with the gaping hole in her head approaching him and was able to react quickly.

By the time she'd reached the doors she'd already taken aim. "Sam, duck!" she called, and as soon as Sam was clear she squeezed the trigger, rock salt exploding towards the ghost the same moment Dean rounded the corner to see what was going on. The ghost evaporated, and Dean rushed forward to where Sam was crouched on the ground.

"You okay?" Dean asked as all three of them looked around the now silent room.

"That was weird," Sam said slowly.

"Yeah, you're telling me," Dean murmured, turning to leave the room. Deja was already replacing the round she'd just used, brows furrowed as she stared where the woman had been.

"No, Dean, I mean it was weird that she didn't attack me," Sam clarified as he caught up to Dean, Deja taking up the rear.

"It looked pretty aggro from where I was standing," Dean retorted.

"She didn't hurt me, she didn't even try!" Sam stressed.

"She wasn't going to either," Deja chimed in. Both brothers looked at her. "I know I'm the one who pulled the trigger, but I was going off instinct. At the same time...she wasn't any of the angry spirits we're looking for. She wasn't giving off any kind of bad vibes. There's something here that is, it just hasn't come out yet," Deja explained.

"That was a little too Ghost Whisperer for my taste," Dean muttered, turning to face forward once more.

"So if she didn't want to hurt me, then what did she want?" Sam asked, looking between his brother and Deja.

Neither of them got to answer, because as they passed one of the patient rooms they heard a soft clank of tin or metal, followed by a quiet whimper. All three of them looked at each other, and Dean pulled his salt gun out of his duffle while Deja readied hers and Sam turned the flashlight in the direction of the noise, which was behind an overturned bed. Dean and Deja took the lead since they were the ones with weapons, Dean taking the left while Deja took the right and Sam stood in between with the flashlight giving them their light. Dean gestured with the salt gun, and Sam reached forward to grasp the bed's edge while Deja and Dean stood ready with their salt guns aimed in the direction of the dark corner behind the bed. After a few heartbeats, Sam suddenly pulled the bed back to reveal not another ghost or body, but a teenage girl hiding in the corner. She shrieked at the sudden screech of the moving bed and the sudden light, as well as the sight of two people holding guns on her, though once it was clear that it wasn't a threat hiding behind the bed, Dean and Deja both quickly lowered the guns.

"It's all right, we're not going to hurt you," Dean told her, holding out a hand in a gesture of peace. It was sort of impressive how quickly he switched from sharp hunter to calm protector. The girl stared at the three of them, and Dean lowered his gun a little more, as did Deja. "It's okay. What's your name?"

"Katherine," the girl said shakily as she got to her feet, looking at Dean warily. "Kat."

"Okay...I'm Dean, this is Sam, and Deja," Dean said calmly, though Sam interrupted before he could say much more, his tone urgent.

"What are you doing here?"

"Um...my boyfriend, Gavin-" she started to say, though Dean cut her off.

"Is he here?"

"Somewhere. He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts," the girl explained while Deja, Dean, and Sam all exchanged exasperated looks. "I thought it was all just...you know...pretend."

The girl wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her knee length knitted coat closer to her body. "I've seen things...I heard Gavin scream, and-"

"All right, Kat, come on," Dean interrupted, leaning forward and gently grasping her wrist to pull her towards the hall. "Sam's gonna get you out of here, then we're going to find your boyfriend."

"No! No," Kat said, bringing Dean to a stop. "I'm not gonna leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you."

"It's no joke around here, okay? It's dangerous," Dean declined, though Kat didn't seem any less determined.

"That's why I've got to find him."

Dean sighed, though his expression was that of only a slight inconvenience. "All right, I guess we're gonna split up, then."

"I'll go with Sam," Deja volunteered. Dean nodded to Kat.

"Let's go."

Deja sighed, watching Dean and Kat go down one side of the hall while she and Sam went down the other side. A little ways down, Sam started calling out Gavin's name while Deja remained a silent guard, her gaze roaming along the rooms that they passed. The tingles down her spine continued, but it was getting easier to ignore them and focus on trying to pinpoint that darker presence.

"So...you think there's something more going on here?" Sam asked at some point, his flashlight continuing its sweep along the space ahead of them.

"Definitely," Deja murmured. "Like I said, they're here, they're close, some of them are showing up...but so far all the spirits we've seen haven't been malicious in any way."

"But there's something here that is?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, there is. I know it's here, I can feel it...but it's like it's distant, hiding in shadows...waiting. And I don't like it at all."

"Well...just so you know, I don't think your sixth sense is weird at all."

"Really?" Deja stated, surprised. "Any particular reason why?"

Sam shrugged. "Like you said, some people are just more...sensitive to the supernatural. I know sometimes I get bad vibes too..." Sam paused and took a deep breath. "Strange dreams."

Deja studied him carefully for a moment. "Well...I don't have strange dreams, but I'm glad to know I'm not the only one extra sensitive to these things." She considered for a moment how that was quite a leap of trust Sam had just taken confiding in her about that, and she decided to reassure him. "And for the record, I don't think your bad vibes and strange dreams are weird either."

Sam chuckled softly. "Thanks."

The hall turned right, and the pair made their way towards the room a few feet in front of them, Deja remaining close at Sam's side with her salt gun at the ready. Sam went in first, and when he did he suddenly halted, causing Deja to almost run into him.

"Sam?" she asked, though when she peeked around his much taller form and saw the teenager lying on the ground, her instincts snapped back into place, and while Sam quickly moved forward to check on the teenager Deja brought her salt gun up and scanned the room, putting her back to the wall instead of the hall while looking for any threats and ready to fire if she needed to.

"Gavin? Hey, Gavin," Sam said, shaking the teenager until he gasped away, jumping like he was being attacked instead of woken up. "Hey, it's okay, it's okay, we're here to help."

"Who are you?" Gavin asked, glancing between Sam and Deja.

"My name is Sam, this is Deja-we found your girlfriend," Sam explained, holding out a hand to hoist Gavin to his feet.

"Kat?"

"Yeah."

"Is she all right?"

"She's worried about you. Are you okay?"

Gavin hissed in pain, touching a cut on his forehead. "Looks like you hit your head pretty hard," Deja commented, sparing him a glance before turning back to her sentinel job.

"I was running. I, uh...I think I fell," Gavin explained.

"You were running from what?" Sam asked.

"There was...there was this girl. Her-her-her face...it was all messed up," Gavin started to explain, sounding like he was headed towards hysterics.

"Okay, listen, listen, this girl-did she try to hurt you?"

Gavin looked taken aback. "What? No, she uh..." Gavin looked away, staring at the floor with a disturbed expression on his face.

"She what?" Sam pressed.

"She kissed me."

Now it was Sam and Deja's turn to be taken aback-Deja even lowered her salt gun slightly and stared at Gavin. Sam had to shake himself out of his surprised state.

"Um, but-but she didn't hurt you, physically?"

"Dude, she kissed me! I'm scarred for life!"

Deja let out a soft snort, and Sam chuckled under his breath. "Well, trust me, it could have been worse. Now, do you remember anything else?"

"She, uh...Actually, she tried to whisper something in my ear."

"What?"

Gavin gave him an incredulous look. "I don't know, I ran like Hell!"

Sam sighed, glancing back at Deja before turning his attention back to Gavin. "Well...let's go find Dean and Kat, let them know we found you."

"All right," Gavin murmured, letting Sam and Deja take the lead back out of the room. Deja kept her salt gun ready as she took point, Sam a step behind her with the flashlight.

"You might be right about the spirits here. Most of them aren't here to harm anyone," Sam murmured. "So then why are they here?"

"Maybe they're trying to warn, not harm," Deja said pointedly.

"Warn about what, though?"

"More like who. If I have to guess what's terrorizing people and causing these deaths, I'd still put my money on a malicious spirit, I've been sensing it since we stepped into this place. We just need to figure out who it is so we can torch the remains."

"If we can find them-the cops never found those bodies."

"The cops aren't the best source for these kinds of cases, are they?" Deja said pointedly. Sam chuckled.

"Touché."

They had made it perhaps halfway back when suddenly they heard the distant sound of screams. Sam and Deja glanced at each other before breaking into a sprint in the direction of the screams, Gavin close behind.

The screams stopped as they drew nearer, replaced instead by an echoing pounding sound and the occasional groan of metal under stress. The screams started again as they rounded the corner to see Dean struggling to get a door open with a crowbar, Sam in the lead.

"What's going on?" Sam asked.

"She's inside with one of them!" Dean replied, still trying to get the door open.

"Help me!" they heard Kat scream on the other side of the door.

"Kat!" Gavin shouted.

"Get me out of here!" Kat shrieked as Deja pushed her way to the front past Sam, grabbing Dean's wrist to stop his struggle with the door.

"Hold on!" she ordered him, putting a hand against the door. "Kat, can you hear me? I need you to listen to me and do exactly as I say."

"What are you doing?" Dean asked in frustration. Deja ignored him.

"I need you to stop, take a few breaths, and try to calm down. I know it's scary, I'm freaked out by ghosts too, but that one is not going to hurt you, all right? First you have to calm down," Deja called through the door, staring intently at the metal right in front of her face.

"She's got to what?" Dean asked incredulously a split second before Kat cried out.

"I have to what?"

Deja ignored Dean and focused on Kat. "Kat, listen to me, that spirit isn't here to hurt any of us, it's trying to warn us, to tell us something, to tell you something. You're going to have to take a deep breath, calm down, and listen to what it has to say. Trust me, okay? Calm down, face it, and listen to what it's trying to say."

"You face it!" Kat shrieked.

"I would, Kat, but you're the one inside with it, you're the one who has to listen to what it has to say, it won't let you out until you do."

"No!"

"Kat," Deja called calmly, closing her eyes. "I know you're scared, I know it's hard, but you can do this. All you have to do is take a deep breath...look at it...and listen to what it's trying to say. Then it will be over, it will let you go, and we can get you out of here."

Deja didn't hear a reply on the other side, so she assumed Kat was listening to what Deja was telling her to do-at least she hoped she was. It was tense silence out in the hall as well, Gavin and Deja staring at the girl while the Winchesters glanced between Deja and the door.

"Kat?" Gavin called after a few long moments of silence.

"I hope you're right about this," Dean murmured to Deja.

"If there's one thing my mother taught me, it's that not all the spirits in this world are bad," Deja replied quietly, staring at the door still.

"I thought you said your family wasn't involved in hunting," Dean asked, suddenly confused.

"They weren't-but we still believed there were such things as spirits and demons and even witchcraft, though we didn't know as much about them as hunters do," Deja explained softly. A few moments after she spoke, there was an audible click, and they all backed away from the door right before it creaked open to reveal a clearly shaken Kat standing just on the other side.

"Oh, Kat," Gavin breathed in relief as Dean quickly pulled Kat out of the room, handing her off to her boyfriend while Sam and Dean checked inside for any ghosts.

There was nothing.

"One thirty-seven," Kat finally said once the Winchesters had finished checking the room.

"Sorry?" Dean said, confusion clear on his face. Kat looked to Deja.

"You were right. It whispered in my ear one thirty-seven."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, speaking at the same time. "Room number."

Sam, Dean, and Deja huddled together as Dean started going through his bag, stuffing the crowbar back inside. "So if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone-" Sam started to say.

"Then I was right-they're trying to help or warn people away from whatever's here that is trying to hurt people. But what do you think is in one thirty-seven?" Deja asked.

"I guess we'll find out," Dean stated, zipping up the duffel before all three of them rose to their feet, turning to the two teenagers who were awkwardly standing to the side and watching them. "All right. So, now, you guys ready to leave this place?"

"That's an understatement," Kat said, drawing a small smile from Deja. Dean pointed to Sam.

"Okay, you get them out of here. I'm gonna go find room one three seven."

"I'll go with you. There's still something here, so I'd say it's best not to be alone," Deja sighed, giving Sam a little nod of reassurance as she fell into step behind Dean.

After they'd turned a corner out of sight of the others, Dean struck up conversation. "So, you're quite the little medium for someone who hates ghosts."

"Oh, shut up," Deja returned with a roll of her eyes. Dean snickered.

"No, seriously, how did you know for certain that spirit wasn't going to hurt her?" Dean asked.

Deja sighed. "My freaky sixth sense. See...there's a difference between a good spirit and a bad spirit, how they...feel, I guess would be the word for it. It's just unease, the feeling of being watched if it's a regular spirit, nothing threatening about them, per say, other than they're the undead and that's unnatural and in some cases freaky."

"And...the bad spirits?" Dean asked, looking rather weirded out by the conversation but genuinely curious.

"Well, the bad spirits...the best I can explain it is something feels wrong, and dark. Though there's even a difference with the bad spirits. You've got the vengeful spirits, the ones that are trying to settle a score-usually there's a sense of anger, and violence in the air around them." Deja shuddered. "Then there's the malicious spirits. They're not hear to settle a score, they're just here to cause harm, to kill. They feel...well...I can feel the evil, and it's not right, not at all. I pray you never know what that feels like."

"You've been calling whatever's here a malicious spirit, not a vengeful one," Dean commented. Deja nodded.

"Yeah...there's evil here. But it's not potent right now-it's like it's lurking in the shadows, and that's got me on edge."

Dean glanced down towards the gun in her hands, watching her index finger trace the side of the trigger. "So I've noticed. Just try not to shoot anything living, all right Buffy?"

Deja gently elbowed him in the side. "Shut up, I'm a professional."

"Just saying," Dean muttered, though she could see a small smile on his face as the silence settled between them again and they continued down the hall. Eventually, they found the picket-fence white door with the faded 137 painted on it in black.

"Here's our room," Deja stated quietly, turning around to put her back to Dean's and watch the hall while he pushed the door open, straining for a second against something on the other side of the door. Deja glanced behind her to look into the room, seeing a mass of papers and filing cabinets. "Well, that looks promising. How long do you think it's going to take to find whatever the spirits want us to find?"

"Unfortunately, a while," Dean muttered rather grouchily, sweeping his flashlight's beam around the room. He looked down at something by his foot while Deja kept an eye out, humming in interest. "Looks like Sanford Ellicott's office."

"Really?" Deja asked, intrigued as Dean rifled through a few files left in a still standing filing cabinet. Dean sighed, continuing to flip through the files with a pensive look on his face before he decided it wasn't what they were looking for, moving on to another cabinet, another, the piles on the desk, the wire basket behind the desk...

The entire time Dean searched the room, Deja kept her salt gun at the ready, the sensation of something wrong starting to grow stronger, but not enough so that Deja felt it was headed for them. It still felt distant from them, but that didn't mean she was about to lower her guard.

"I think I found something," Dean suddenly said, pulling at a wooden panel and easily removing it to reveal a hidden space with an old leather satchel inside.

"I'd say so," Deja commented as Dean came around to sit on the old desk. "Any idea what it is?"

"Something of Dr. Ellicott's obviously," Dean said with a sly grin, popping the satchel open. "This is why I get paid the big bucks."

Deja rolled her eyes. "We're hunters, Dean, we don't get paid at all."

"Shh, don't ruin the moment," Dean chided her, pulling out a worn journal and flipping it over. Deja backed up to sit beside him, grimacing when she saw the scrawled letters inside.

"Doctor's handwriting...isn't it lovely," she said sarcastically while Dean flipped his way back to the first page, where a title had been written.

"Patient's journal...this should give us some..."

Dean trailed off as they started flipping through the pages, and even Deja was momentarily distracted by the wicked-looking tools that were sketched into the pages and some of the gruesome procedures that were detailed as well.

"What the Hell?" Deja murmured, trying not to shudder at some of the drawings.

"All work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy," Dean quipped, though he too had a disturbed expression on his face. Deja decided not to point it out.

Something sounded in the hall, and in an instant Deja had pulled her attention away from the journal, weapon held at the ready once more as she stood up from where she'd been sitting beside Dean.

"That sounded rather ghostly," Dean commented.

"Yeah...see if you can find anything in that journal, I'll keep an eye out for Beetlejuice," Deja said softly, moving closer to the hall.

"Right..." Dean replied absently, turning his attention back to the journal. For a few long minutes there wasn't any sound other than Dean's breathing, the scrape of Deja's feet against the floor and the debris that littered it, and the occasional flipped page of the journal. Eventually, Dean sat the journal down, standing up from his seat on the desk and making his way to Deja's side.

"I think I know who your malevolent spirit is," Dean said, gesturing for her to make her way back into the hall.

"Dr. Ellicott?" Deja guessed, letting Dean take point as he led them back through the asylum's halls.

"Yahtzee. Turns out, Dr. Ellicott was preforming some seriously messed up procedures to help the patients with their anger issues. He thought if he could force them to express their rage, then they would be cured of it. However, his treatments only made them worse and worse."

"So when the patients rioted, it was them having enough of being the guinea pigs to his experiments-it wasn't against the hospital so much as against him."

"Exactly, and-bonus-the logbook said that he had a hidden procedure room in the basement where he'd work on his patients. I'm willing to bet that's where the patients stashed his body."

Deja inclined her head. "It would make sense...in a twisted way. And explain why no one ever found him."

"So, let's get Sam, go to the basement, find this hidden room, and torch us a psycho doc."

Deja chuckled. "When you put it that way, it almost sounds like it's going to be fun."

"What do you mean almost? Of course it's going to be fun," Dean retorted with a wink, laughing softly under his breath as they made their way back towards the entrance to the south wing where Sam would most likely be waiting for them. As they started making their way down the main hall, Dean tripped on a stray metal...something, and he cursed while Deja laughed at him, the sounds drowned out by the metal clang that rang through the hall. Dean had just peeked his head around the corner when he suddenly stopped.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed, grabbing Deja and yanking her back with him at the last second. She heard a shotgun go off and rock salt scatter everywhere as Dean brought her down into a crouch with him, instinctively shielding her from the shot with his own body. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!" he growled, regaining his bearing before he shouted around the corner.

"Don't shoot, it's us!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" came, surprisingly, Kat's voice.

"Son of a..." Dean started to say under his breath as he and Deja rose to their feet, carefully making their way around the corner. They both instinctively looked at the wall lined up with where Dean's head had been, seeing the rock salt embedded into the wall and having done quite the number on the wall as well.

It might not be deadly to people, but it still hurt.

"What are you still doing here? Where's Sam?" Dean asked as he and Deja approached the two teens, Dean taking the gun from them. They were, indeed, missing Sam.

"He went to the basement, you called him," Gavin said nervously. Dean went alarmingly still.

"I didn't call him."

"His cellphone rang. He said it was you," Kat affirmed, gazing worriedly at Dean. Dean looked at Deja, who felt worry and concern squirm in her gut.

The basement.

Dr. Ellicott's lab, and most likely where his body was.

Possibly the place his spirit was confined to.

Dean looked back at the two teenagers. "Basement, huh?"

They both nodded, and Deja could see the gears turning in Dean's head as he shook the salt gun at his side. "All right..." he muttered, grabbing a handgun out of the duffle bag and putting it in an easily accessible spot while holding the salt gun and the duffle bag in one hand. "Watch yourselves," he said pointedly, looking between the two teenagers before he turned to leave. "And watch out for me."

Deja took a few steps after him. "Dean, I'm coming with you."

"Uh-uh, you're staying here with those two and keeping an eye on them while I go find Sam," Dean replied quietly. They were standing at the end of the hall, where it formed a T and split left or right.

"We both know he was lured down there, Dean. There's a chance Ellicott might have done something to him, and you're going to need backup."

"I can handle my little brother, Deja," Dean scoffed. "And we're not doing anything to Sam-we're going to burn Ellicott's bones, and that will be the end of it."

"I never said we were going to do anything to Sam, I just said you might need backup-it'll make things easier."

"No, end of story," Dean said firmly, turning to walk away. Deja dared to grab his arm, but only briefly enough to keep him from storming away.

"Dean. I'm not going to hurt Sam. You and your brother are the only people on this damn planet that I'm more than a passing acquaintance with. He's in no danger from me," Deja said firmly, holding his intense gaze that would have made a lesser person wilt and submit. "But I also want to make sure you'll be okay-not that you're not capable. It'll just be easier, faster, and safer if we work together, and we can get out of here, get something to eat, and get some sleep before we hit the road again."

Dean let out a long, slow breath through his nose, jaw clenching for a moment. "Fine. But let me handle Sam if Ellicott really did do something to him."

"Okay, that's fine by me," Deja agreed. "Now...let's go find him."

"Yeah..." Dean muttered, pulling out the handgun again and checking the clip. Instead of loading more bullets inside, however, Dean removed the bullets that were in the gun, drawing a curious look from Deja. "Just in case," Dean stated when he felt her eyes on him.

Deja let Dean take the lead, mostly just watching his back as the elder Winchester led them deeper and deeper into the asylum until they found their way to the basement. It was alarmingly dark down here, but they still had their flashlight, which Dean was manning at the moment from his spot at the front. Quietly, Dean crept around the corner, eyes scoping out the hall as he started to sweep the flashlight's beam across the hall as well.

"Sammy?" Dean called cautiously, and Deja gripped the salt gun a little tighter. "Sam, you down here? Sam!"

Dean checked a space off to their right, finding nothing. "Sam?" he called again, sweeping the flashlight's beam back facing forward. Deja nearly shrieked when the light fell upon Sam, who was suddenly standing right in front of them. Even Dean jumped, raising his gun on instinct and biting back a slew of curses once it registered in his mind that it was Sam standing in front of him. "Man! Answer me when I'm calling you! Are you all right?"

Sam looked at Dean like Dean had just said he loved loved him. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You know that wasn't me who called your cell, right?" Dean asked while Deja came even with Dean.

"Yeah, I know, I think something lured me down here," Sam retorted, sounding...annoyed. Dean brushed Sam's tone off, launching into the explanation that would fill him in on what Deja and Dean had found in Dr. Ellicott's office.

"I think we know who-Dr. Ellicott. That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. You haven't seen him, have you?"

"No. How do you know it was him?" Sam asked.

"Because I found his logbook. Apparently, he was experimenting on his patients. Some...awful stuff, makes lobotomies look like a couple of aspirin."

"But it was the patients who rioted," Sam returned, drawing on what Deja had been told by James Ellicott.

"Yeah, they were rioting against Dr. Ellicott." When Sam continued to give Dean a blank stare, Dean sighed and tried to explain a little more. "Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme-rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger, then they'd be cured of it. Instead it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So I'm thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? To the cop, the kids in the seventies-making them so angry they become homicidal."

Dean paused, letting Sam absorb that before he moved forward, gesturing for Deja to follow him. "Come on, we've got to find his bones and torch him."

"How? The police never found his body," Sam asked their retreating backs. Dean turned back.

"The logbook said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere where he'd work on his patients. So, if I was a patient, I'd drag his ass down here and do a little work on him myself."

"I don't know, it sounds kind of-"

"What, crazy?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, exactly," Dean said with a snicker, opening a door and making his way inside, Deja at his heels. It took a moment for Sam to follow them in, and while Dean stood in the middle of the room Deja made her way to the wall furthest from the door, studying the surface closely for any abnormalities.

"I told you I looked everywhere. I didn't find a hidden room," Sam said skeptically as he came in beside Dean.

"Well, that's why they call it hidden," Dean said simply. All three of them fell silent for a moment, and Deja turned her head when she heard a faint whistling sound coming from somewhere in the room.

"You hear that?" Dean asked, turning to the wall at his back.

"What?" Sam asked, sounding even more annoyed now.

Dean's flashlight followed the bottom of the wall until he suddenly paused, crouching down so he could place his hand near the floor and feel for a draft.

"There's a door here," Dean announced. Deja looked away from Dean and towards Sam just in time to see Sam suddenly lift the salt gun in his hand so that it was pointing at Dean.

"Sam..." Deja said warily, her posture shifting from semi-relaxed to wary and tense. Her tone immediately caught Dean's attention, and Dean looked aback to see the barrel of Sam's sawed off shotgun level with his face. Deja took a cautious step closer but no more, watching as a few drops of blood fell from Sam's nose, which he carelessly wiped at without breaking his gaze away from Dean. Deja looked at the elder Winchester in worry, noting that Dean had yet to move.

"Step back from the door," Sam said in a low, dangerous tone.

Dean slowly stood to face Sam, gaze flickering from Sam's face to the gun trained on him. "Sam, put the gun down."

"Is that an order?" Sam asked, jaw clenched.

"It's more of a friendly request," Dean stated, trying for a humorous edge, even though there was nothing humorous about the situation at hand. Sam raised the gun higher, leveling it at Dean's chest.

"Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders," Sam said a little louder, and Dean instinctively tensed at having a gun leveled on him. Deja took another step towards Sam, and Dean's gaze flickered towards her warningly.

Let me handle Sam if Ellicott really did do something to him.

"I knew it...Ellicott did something to you, didn't he?" Dean asked quietly.

"For once in your life, just shut your mouth," Sam growled.

"What are you gonna do, Sam?" Dean asked pointedly. "The gun's filled with rock salt. It's not gonna kill me."

Dean had hardly finished speaking when Sam fired, hitting Dean square in the chest and sending him back with enough force to throw him through the hidden door and into the secret room they'd been looking for.

"Dean!" Deja shouted. No reply.

"No, but It'll hurt like Hell," Sam said smoothly. Sam turned when he saw Deja move closer out of his peripherals, but before he could swing his gun her way she'd already aimed her salt gun at him.

"Drop the gun, Sam."

"What, now you think you can boss me around too?" Sam asked, a chilling, humorless smile on his face.

"Well, in this situation, I'm willing to make an exception," Deja said, stepping a little closer.

"Nice to know you're taking his side-that makes this a Hell of a lot easier," Sam said, starting to move to aim his shotgun at her. Deja moved, swinging her salt gun like a bludgeon instead of the gun it was to hit Sam upside the head and make him stumble. She grimaced, lunging forward to latch onto his gun and start wrestling him for it. Sam held fast, however, and although she held on for what she felt was an admirable length of time, the young man who was much bigger than her managed to wrestle his weapon away from her, throwing her into the metal shelf close to the door in the process. She went down with a cacophony of clangs as whatever had been on the shelf fell to the floor with her, and she gasped in pain from the impact.

"I'll deal with you in a minute," Sam growled at her before he turned his attention back to Dean, who sounded like he was stirring. Deja hissed in pain, working on shoving it all into a corner of her brain as she slowly started to push herself onto her knees. She could hear Dean coughing in the hidden room.

"Sam-we've got to burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal," Dean groaned.

"I am normal," Sam replied calmly. "I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? Cause you're following Dad's orders like a good little soldier? Cause you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?"

Deja made it to her knees, then weaved as she carefully pulled herself up. Damn, she was going to have some serious bruises from that shelf...

"This isn't you talking, Sam," Dean grunted.

"That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own-I'm not pathetic, like you."

"So what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill me?"

"You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago!"

Deja glanced at her discarded shotgun in the corner, judging the distance and deciding that perhaps she could retrieve it before Sam realized she was up and moving.

"Well then, here, let me make it easier for you..." There was a sound of rustling, and Deja carefully crept into view of the doorway in time to see Dean offering his handgun to Sam. "Go on, take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt," Dean told Sam, his breathing shallow from pain.

"Take it!" Dean said with more force when Sam didn't immediately take the handgun. Deja quietly slipped to her discarded gun, managing to pick it up without a sound as Sam tossed his salt gun aside and leveled the handgun on Dean. Deja carefully straightened up and held her gun with the barrel pointed away from her but the stock pointing in Sam's direction, the weapon held firmly in her hands.

She also had a perfect view of what was happening, and even though she didn't know the Winchesters that well, what she witnessed shook her more than she was willing to admit out loud.

Dean stared down the barrel of the gun Sam held on him without any hesitation, the expression on his face well beyond words. "You hate me that much? You think you can kill your own brother?"

Those two sentences were like bullets fired on Deja, even though they were aimed at Sam, and it froze her behind the younger Winchester for a split second.

"Then go ahead...pull the trigger," Dean said quietly, and that invitation snapped Deja back to the present for the time being. She took another step that brought her into range, gripped the gun tighter in her hands...

"Do it!" Dean barked when Sam didn't immediately pull the trigger, and Deja heard the gun click.

And click again.

Sam didn't get a chance to pull the trigger again, because Deja slammed the stock of her sawed off hard enough into his head to send the younger Winchester unconscious to the ground. Deja grimaced, looking down at Sam.

"Sorry Sam," she said honestly before looking at Dean. The expression on his face wasn't one that she'd forget.

He hadn't really thought Sam would pull the trigger.

Least of all pull it twice, probably more times if Deja had given him the chance.

Deja didn't comment, knowing Dean wasn't the type of person who would like her pointing that out, especially mere seconds after Sam had tried to kill him. Instead, she held her hand out to him and hauled him to his feet, giving him a moment to steady himself. There was salt all over him, especially on his face, and he clutched at his side.

"You all right?" she asked.

"Yeah...that's just going to hurt like a bitch for a while," Dean grunted. "You?"

"I'll be bruised, but I'll live."

Dean sighed, looking at his unconscious brother for a second before he grabbed his duffel. "Come on, let's just get this over with-I'm ready to get out of here."

Deja checked her gun to make sure it was all set, handing Dean Sam's discarded salt gun from off the floor before she made her way to the left side of the room while Dean started checking the right, pulling back curtains and probably expecting to find a body or a ghost behind every single one.

Now that her mind wasn't completely focused on Sam trying to kill Dean, Deja could feel the sense of evil and wrongness in the air, and she looked towards Dean in concern. "Dr. Ellicott is definitely hanging around somewhere nearby...be careful," she warned him, checking behind a dresser in a corner.

"I figured as much," Dean replied, sounding a little distracted. A few moments later, she heard him make a heaving noise before coughing. "Oh, that's just gross...I found him."

Deja turned from where she was searching, making her way to where Dean was crouched in front of a white cabinet. Shoved inside the small space was a rotten corpse, and Deja stayed a safe distance away. "Uhg...let's just salt and burn him and get out of here...I'll keep an eye out for the Doc's other half."

Dean didn't need to be told twice, taking the salt out of his duffle bag and quickly dousing the corpse with it before adding the gasoline. "Soak it up..." Dean murmured. Deja looked down at Dean's discarded flashlight as it started to flicker.

"Dean...we're being watched..." Deja said quietly, holding her gun at the ready as her eyes started searching the room. Dean looked up from what he was doing, then suddenly reached out and shoved you forward.

"Move!" he shouted at the same time, throwing himself backwards out of the path of a gurney that had suddenly launched itself at the pair. Dean landed hard on his back, then almost instantly started to cry out in pain. Deja whipped around to see Dr. Ellicott holding his head, small bolts of electricity dancing from his fingers to Dean's head.

"What's up, Doc?" Deja shouted as she pulled the trigger, dissipating Dr. Ellicott with one round. Dean groaned, rolling onto his side.

"What's up, Doc? Really?" he asked, clearly disappointed.

"Shut up and just burn his bones already!" Deja snapped, turning wildly as she waited for Dr. Ellicott to make another appearance. Dean reached into his bag, pulling out his lighter and flicking the little flame to light. Deja turned again and found herself face to face with Ellicott, but as he reached for her, Dean set his corpse on fire, and Ellicott froze, allowing Deja to stumble backwards out of his reach. Dean and Deja watched in horrified fascination as Ellicott's ghost slowly blackened and shriveled until it became stiff as a board and fell to the ground with a loud thud, dissolving into a fine dust that scattered across the floor.

Dean and Deja shared a look, and over in the corner, Sam stirred. Dean pushed himself to his feet, making his way over to Sam, who was rubbing the back of his head.

"You're not gonna try and kill me, are you?" Dean asked Sam.

"No..." Sam said quietly, looking quite lost and befuddled, though from the look in his eyes he remembered exactly what he'd tried to do.

"Good...cause that would be awkward," Dean muttered, helping Sam to his feet. Deja started gathering the scattered weapons, packing the Winchesters' things into their duffel bag and before making her way over to them.

"Let's just get out of here," she said tiredly, shoving the duffel into Dean's waiting arms. She grimaced as Sam continued to rub his head. "Sorry about the bump, Sam...you might want to put some ice on it."

"It's, ah...it's okay. Sorry for...throwing you...and..."

"If I hear one more apology, I'm going to hit someone, now let's get out of here," Dean groaned, staggering out the hole his body had made in the wall a few minutes ago.

"Yes, sir," Deja said with a small smile, following close behind him.

***************************************

After they had left the asylum, the group didn't spend much time talking. Dean hardly even allowed any time for Sam to apologize for what happened in the asylum and tell Dean that what he'd said hadn't been true. Neither Sam nor Deja believed that Dean believed Sam hadn't meant everything he said, but everyone was too tired to argue, and Dean had blatantly said he wasn't in the mood for any sharing and caring. So, they had packed their things into their respective cars and made their way back to the motel, going into their own rooms without any further conversation.

After a long, hot shower, Deja sat cross legged on the bed in one of her old long sleeves and a pair of sweats, staring at the floor with a tequila bottle in her hand.

She couldn't get the look on Dean's face out of her head, or his words.

You hate me that much?

Drink.

You think you can kill your own brother?

Drink.

The look on his face when Sam actually pulled the trigger...

Drink.

Why was this affecting her so deeply?

Drink.

...you see Sam has what you once had, and he's not appreciating how good of a thing it is, which bothers you...

Drink.

And she'd been truly worried about Dean when he'd been hurt.

Drink.

Did you stop to think that maybe you were tired of being alone and wanted some human interaction again? Wanted friendship?

Drink.

It's safer to be alone.

Drink.

And so the vicious cycle continued until Deja managed to drink herself into enough of a stupor to fall into a dreamless sleep.