~*****~

The door to room 1444 is locked up tight. I tug on the door knob a few times before slamming my shoulder into it, breaking it off its hinges. "Whoa--" I hear Sam and Dean mention as I right myself from nearly stumbling over the door. The room is lit up with the sound of white noise. I shrug and we rush in to help the man being pinned down by a shelf.

The breath is knocked from my lungs as someone grabs at my shoulders and tosses me to the side, letting me crash into the shelving. I give a loud grunt and flop onto my front, ready to get back up. Dean swings a wrench at him, and the ghost disintegrates. The tv's shut off immediately.

"Whoa--" I say softly before I stand up, and hurry over to help lift the shelf. The man manages to squirm out from underneath it. "How'd you know how to do that?" I ask breathlessly.

"I have no idea," Dean huffs.

"Go home," I say to the employee. "We'll make sure you're overly compensated for this, okay?"

The man nods breathlessly and hurries out of the room.

We take Sam back to our apartment. "Holy crap, dude," Dean huffs as he paces around with his health drink.

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

"Oh, sorry, man. I'm on the cleanse," Dean retorts. "I got rid of all the carbs in the house."

"Lucky us," I groan loudly. "Because a beer sounds amazing." I hiss as I shunt my heels away from me.

"Hey, how did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?" Sam asks.

Dean snorts. "Crazy right?" He shrugs. "And damn, that was hot-- breaking that door down. I didn't know you could do that. Hell, you cry when you barely pinch a finger." Dean comments as he tosses me a bottle of water.

"I have no idea how I managed that," I mention impishly. "So you better watch out, otherwise I'll be kicking your butt."

"You know, it kinda feels like we've done this before," Sam mentions.

"What do you mean, before?" Dean asks. "Like, Shirley Maclaine before?"

Sam huffs and grunts. "No... I just can't shake this feeling like I-- Like I don't belong here, you know what I mean? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle."

"I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way." Dean mentions.

"No. Well, look, it's more than that." Sam snorts. "Like-- Like I don't-- like my job-- I don't like this town, I don't like my clothes. I won't like my own last name. I-- 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." I gaze down at my water bottle. "What about you two? You ever feel that way?"

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

"All right... So, what do we do now?" Sam asks.

"We do what I do best, Sammy. Research." Dean comments.

I stand up and hum. "Wait, wait-- did you just call him Sammy?"

Dean gazes at me in confusion. "Did I?"

"I think you did," I giggle.

"Don't do that," Sam grimaces.

"Sorry. C'mon Lottie," Dean hums happily.

"It's Carlotta. You don't do nicknames, you weirdo." I mention as I follow after him. Although, the name does feel familiar.

~*****~

"Jack pot!" I hear Dean exclaim. I pull my head out of the fridge and chew irritably on the celery that I'd grabbed.

"Whatcha got?" Sam asks.

"I just found the best site ever! Real, actual ghost hunters!" Dean exclaims. Sam and I share an excited look and hurry towards him to peer over his shoulder. "These guys are genius. Check it out."

"Instructional Videos?" Sam asks as Dean hits the play button.

"We know why you're watching," The taller man with glasses mentions as the video starts.

"You've got a problem!" The other exclaims.

"A ghost problem."

"A ghost-related problem. A-- A ghost-- it's like a ghost-adjacent-- It's like a problem, and the ghost--" The man stammers. I glance at Dean skeptically.

"Whatever," The taller man quickly stops him. "Well, you've come to the right place. The only decent place, really, because the Ghost Facers know how to solve it."

"Period."

'Watch and learn."

"See, the first step in any Supernatural fight..."

"Figure out what you're up against!" They say together. We glance at each other before doing extensive research on the building.

The first thing we do, is find our ghost-- which happened to be the first owner. P.T. Sandover. "Died in nineteen sixteen." I mention. "He devoted his life to his work-- no wife, no kids. Used to say he was the company and his very blood pumped through the building."

"Wow, oaky. So, slight workaholic." Dean comments. "Maybe he's still here, you know, watching over the company-- even killing for it."

"Plus, turns out this isn't the first-time people started killing themselves in the building." Sam mentions. "Nineteen twenty-nine."

"Yeah, but lots of guys jumped off of lots of high rises that year." Dean retorts.

"How many companies had seventeen suicides?" I ask.

Dean blows out a soft breath. "Okay, so, P.T. Sandover-- protector of the company. His ghost wakes up and becomes active during times of grave economic distress." Dean says.

"Well, the worst time we've seen since the Great Depression is kinda now." I hum.

"Yeah, now sucks." Dean hums. "My portfolio's in the sewer. I don't even want to talk about it."

I roll my eyes and sigh loudly. "So, Sandover's helping the bottom line..." Sam mentions.

"By zapping some model employees." Dean says.

"Yeah, I mean, Ian and Paul-- It was like he turned them into different people." Sam says.

"Perfect worker bees-- exactly. So devoted to the company, that they would commit hara-kiri if they failed it." Dean recites.

"One more interesting fact-- The building wasn't always that high. Used to be fourteen flours. The room where the ghost attacked, fourteen forty-four-- well, once upon a time, that was the old man's old office." I comment.

~*****~

The Ghost Facers teach us about what we needed to kill ghosts. "Where do we even get a gun?" Dean asks as he packs a duffle full of stuff we needed.

"I dunno. Gun store?" Sam suggests.

"Isn't there, like, some kind of waiting period?" Dean asks.

"I think so." Sam shrugs.

"Then how in the hell?"

"I dunno, man, it seems pretty impossible, honestly." Sam chuckles.

"Right." Dean huffs.

"I can get a gun." I mention politely. Sam and Dean stare at me with wide eyed expressions. I just beam. "There's a guy at my gym who goes on and on about his gun collection-- perhaps I could get one?"

The Ghost Facers teach us one last thing-- burning the remains. Although, P.T. Sandover had been cremated.

We get back to the office building with our supplies. "Set your cellphone to walkie-talkie in case we get separated." Dean orders when we step into the elevator.

"How the hell are we gonna find some ancient speck of DNA in a skyscraper?" Sam asks as I tap away on my phone.

"Well, that creepy storeroom used to be Sandover's office." I mention. "There might be something in there."

The room is dark, but there's not that chill in the air like last time-- thankfully. I flinch visibly when I hear someone. "What are you doing in here?" I quickly duck behind a shelf as one of the security guard's approaches Sam. Sam stammers for a moment. "Come with me." 

The guard shuts the door behind him, leaving Dean and I alone in the room. Dean and I spare a glance at one another before continuing our search. I pull out my cell and press my walkie button. "You okay, Sam?" I ask.

There's a moment of hesitation before I hear a response. "Call you back." Sam says in a strange tone.

"Baby," Dean says suddenly as I gaze at my phone. "Look at this." I gaze down at the photo of the bridge that had been built under the company's name.

"That's it," I hum delicately. "If there's anything-- it'll be up on floor twenty-two. With the other memorabilia." I explain.

"Atta girl," Dean grins and kisses my cheek.

"Guys, you there?" We hear Sam through the walkie.

"Yeah, listen, I think we got it," Dean says in the phone. "Meet us on twenty-two!"

"Okay, yeah-- just, uh, take the stairs." Sam says urgently.