Since there was so much work left over from the night before, you decided to come into work a little bit earlier to finish it before Dean came in with a new load. Getting off the elevator, you walked to your desk before seeing yet another file for tech support.
"Damn it, don't they know how to keep their shit together?" you muttered as you snatched it up. Taking the elevator down to tech support, you noticed how eerily quiet the place was without any employees. They weren't scheduled to come in until later which why you were the only one down here. Walking past the many cubicles, you noticed one of the computers on which was weird to you. Every single one of them were off except for this one. Walking to it, you noticed the person's name taped to the wall indicating whose desk this belonged to.
"Paul? You there?" you asked, approaching the lit break room, the only lit room on the floor. As you neared, the potent stench of rotting flesh was the only thing you could smell. Gagging, you put your elbow over your nose to smell the perfume you put on instead of the alternative. It didn't help much, but it was all you got.
As soon as you turned the corner, you screamed bloody murder, dropping the file. Paul was in there with his head stuck in the microwave. Whoever did this wanted to cook his head, which is what happened. Fumbling for your phone, you dialed Dean first before the police. Your mind was reeling, and you just needed to tell Dean.
"Y/N?" Dean answered, sounding sleepy.
"Dean, you have to come to work right now. Someone is dead," you cried, ignoring the stench right now.
"Wait, slow down, what is going on?" he asked, clearly more awake now.
"Dean, I found someone dead in tech support. Please come down to work."
"Okay, call the police, I'll be there as soon as I can."
Hanging up, you rushed to call the police, scared of how this happened and why. After the police arrived, they were contaminating the scene with onlookers at every direction. Dean was standing next to you, hand on your back, comforting you after you talked to the police. Looking up, you noticed Sam staring at you and Dean.
"Something about this seem not right to you?" Dean asked you.
"You have that feeling too?"
"Come on, let's go back upstairs," he said softly before guiding you back to his office where he offered you some aspirin and a bottle of water.
"Who was that man?" Dean asked as he sat down at his desk.
"His name was Paul Dunbar," you sighed as Dean got to typing. Walking around to his side, you watched as he pulled up the Sandover personnel file for the deceased. Looking at the notes section, you read that Paul's retirement party was in two weeks.
"Two weeks?" you asked, looking at Dean who had the same level of confusion written on his face.
"Why would someone kill themselves two weeks before they retire?" you asked as you took a seat on the other side of the desk.
"Beats me," he sighed, trusting you with his information. You haven't been here long, but he trusts you like no other. Sighing, you focused on the paperwork in front of you when Dean sighed deeply.
"What's wrong?"
"A form got filled out wrong, hold on," he picked up the phone before dialing the person he needed. "I need to see you in my office, please. Thanks."
"Ooo someone is in trouble," you sang to which he chuckled. A few moments later, a knock at the door sounded before the man that had been talking with Sam about his dream walked in. Getting up to give them privacy, Dean held out his hand to stop you.
"You don't need to leave," he smiled at you as you took your seat. "Hi. Ian, is it? Yeah, come on in. Yesterday you filled out a 445-T and no problem, just a few errors when we did your switch over to Vista. So, I'm sure you're used to filling out the dash-R's, am I right?"
"Oh no," Ian whispered fearfully.
"No, no, no. It's fine. It's fine. I just need you to redo one today so I can get the show on the road with the invoicing," he pushed a piece of paper to the tech support guy, but Ian looked at it terrifyingly.
"Oh my God," he whispered.
"No, it's fine. Just refile it and we're square."
"I can't believe I did this," Ian panicked, and you knew something was wrong. "I can't believe I—I can't believe I did this."
"Ian are you okay?" you asked after exchanging glances with Dean.
"No, no. It affected profits. It—I screwed up. I—I can't—I can't—I am so sorry. I—how could I do that? I failed Sandover. I failed the company."
"Alright, why don't you sit down, Ian? You will feel better," you said as you got up, offering him your seat.
"No," he whimpered as he rushed out of the room. Looking at Dean, you both rushed after the employee all the way to the men's room. Dean rushed in there to confront him, but you stayed outside since it was the men's room. Opening the door a smidge, you tried to hear what was going on, but the sinks were all on that made it harder to hear.
Sighing, you noticed your breath like it does when it was extremely cold. Placing your hand inside, goosebumps formed all over your arm because it was so cold in there. Why was it so cold, and why does this feel familiar? Maybe you should give Dean and Ian some space before you heard Dean yell in fear. Screw the rules, you rushed inside to see Ian with a pencil in his neck, bleeding out on the floor.
Looking up, you saw the reflection of an old man in the mirror, but no one else was in the bathroom with you three.
"No way," you whispered, glancing down at Ian before looking back at the man. However, he was gone as soon as he appeared.
"Someone help!" you yelled as you rushed out of the bathroom.
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"No, I, I followed him into the bathroom," Dean sighed as he told the police what happened. The coroner rolled Ian out in a body bag with everyone watching. "He was, uh—he was standing there in front of the mirror, and then he stabbed himself in the neck. I'm sorry, that's, um..."
Looking up, you noticed Sam watching with painful eyes. When you two made eye contact, something clicked. For a second, and only a second, he wasn't wearing a Sandover uniform, he was dressed in jeans, layers of upper clothing, and they were bloodied. Taking a deep breath, the officer left, and Dean took you to his office to sort this out.
"What the hell just happened?" you asked once Dean shut the door.
"I don't know, he kind of just flipped," he said as he reached into the mini closet he had before taking out a shirt. He removed his tie before removing his bloodied shirt. Your breath hitched when you saw his back muscles, and a lot of dirty thoughts entered your mind.
"You saw him too, didn't you?" you were talking about the old man.
"Yeah," he sighed, putting on the new shirt. Seeing his chest and abs made your panties want to come right off, but you had to be professional about this.
"That was a fucking ghost back there. I mean as scary as this might sound, that was kind of exciting. Nothing ever happens here, and we see a fucking ghost? Tell me you're not excited by this."
"You know who else wondered about ghosts?"
"Sam."
"Sit down, I'll call him up," he said, picking up the phone. Taking a seat, you watched all kinds of emotions cross by Dean's features, his beautiful features. If only you weren't a pussy, you would tell him how you felt. Just like Ian, it took Sam only a few moments to get to his office.
"Come on in. Shut the door," Dean instructed. Sam exchanged glances with you before doing what he was told. "Who the hell are you?"
"I'm not sure I know."
"What the hell does that mean?" you asked.
"Sam Wesson. I started here three weeks ago."
"Alright. You cornered us in the elevator talking about ghosts. And now," he sighed, staring at you as he paused.
"Now what?
"Nothing," Dean spoke before you could, taking out a bottle that contained one of his disgusting juice cleansing things. "I, uh...so you started working here three weeks ago, huh? Us too. It's the Master Cleanse. You tried it? Phenomenal. Detoxes you like nobody's business."
"When you were in that bathroom with Ian, did you see something?" Sam asked.
"Maybe," you hesitated.
"Wait. Are you saying that—did you see a ghost?"
"We were freaking out. The guy penciled his damn neck."
"You did, didn't you? Okay, listen. What if these suicides aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something not natural?"
"So, what, ghosts are real? And they're responsible for all the dead bodies around here? Is that what you're telling us?" you asked as Sam took the seat next to you.
"I know it sounds crazy, but yes, that's what I'm telling you."
"Uh-huh. Based on what?"
"Instinct."
"I've got the same instinct."
"Yeah, me too," you sighed.
"Seriously? You know those dreams I was telling you about? I was dreaming about ghosts, and then it turns out that there's a real ghost."
"So, you're telling us that your dreams are special visions and you're some kind of psychic?"
"No. I mean, that would be nuts. I'm just saying something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So, I've been digging around a little," he grinned as he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Dean. "I think I found a connection between the two guys."
"You broke into their email accounts?" you said after seeing what the paper really was.
"I used some skills that I happen to have to satisfy my curiosity. So, it turns out Ian and Paul both got this same email telling them to report to HR, room fourteen forty-four."
"HR's on seven. Should we go check it out?"
"Like right now?" Sam's brows shot straight up.
"No. No, it's getting late. You're right," Dean sighed. Awkward silence passed between you three before Sam broke it.
"I am dying to check this out right now," Sam grinned.
"Right?" Staring at the two men, you couldn't help but feel the same way.
"Come on, they should all be out by now," you spoke as you got up. The men followed you to the elevator which took you to the seventh floor. Walking down the hallway, you heard a man yell inside room 1444. Rushing to it, you found it was locked.
"Stand back," Sam said, moving you out of the way before kicking it down. Very impressed with that, you ran inside to see a man underneath a shelf that had fallen. You three rushed over to the man to help him up, but Dean was thrown back into another shelf. Sam was next, and he went flying across the room. Glaring, you gave whoever that was a roundhouse kick to the face, but it went right through him. Shocked that this was happening, the ghost threw you to the ground, making you groan out in pain.
If you three didn't do something soon, then this man would die. The ghost walked over to the man with electricity coming out of his hand. Dean scrambled to get up and found a wrench before swinging it at the man. At the first contact, he dissipates, causing everything to go still. Getting up, you aided in removing the shelf to free the man.
"How'd you know how to do that?" you asked.
"I have no idea," Dean panted.