CHAPTER FOURTY NINE:
IT'S A TERRIBLE LIFE.

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"HOW'S MY FAVORITE assistant doing this morning?"

Birdie playfully rolled her eyes at the sound of the familiar voice, looking up as the man walked over to stop in front of her desk. His dark hair was slicked back, a refreshing scented gel keeping in place. He wore a striped button up with a red tie underneath a charcoal blazer, having it paired with matching slacks and shiny oxfords that his girlfriend had bought him a few days ago. His green eyes skimmed over Birdie's appearance, noticing she'd chosen for a simple black and white pantsuit with a striped tie. A white, button up blouse was under her blazer, the first few buttons undone to show a shiny silver necklace she'd gotten from her father when she was a little girl. Her makeup was neatly done, a mellow shade of gray eyeshadow covering her eyes and some mascara making her eyelashes longer than usual.

Birdie leaned her elbows on her desk in front of her computer, cheekily smiling up at Dean Smith, AKA her boss.

He was currently the only director at Sandover who had an assistant, but Birdie was just the first of many that would surely be working at the company for the foreseeable future. The company had only just recently decided to expand their offices and Birdie was their first hire. It'd come as quite a surprise to her when she found out she landed the job, but she was grateful to be making more money than before. She'd only been working with Dean for three weeks after they both transferred there around the same time, but she felt like she'd known him forever; he made the job just a little bit easier.

"I'm doing excellent, Mr. Smith," she replied. "How are you?"

"Excellent, Ms. Dixon," Dean replied, matching the woman's perky smile. "How was your date last night?"

Birdie heavily sighed, leaning back in her chair with a frown now decorating her lips. Most people wouldn't really talk about their dating life with their boss, but there was just something about Dean that made Birdie feel like she could open up to him, and he felt the same way about her. "A complete and total bust," Birdie replied, her response causing Dean to frown. "She doesn't like marvel. . .and she. . .I don't really know, but it just felt meh."

"Your date felt meh?" Dean repeated, raising his brows in surprise. "How?"

"I don't know. It was like I-I already knew she wasn't the one for me, you know?"

"No, I don't," Dean denied, shaking his head. Birdie pursed her lips, sharply narrowing her eyes on the older man. He just grinned, softly sighing a few seconds later. "I'm sorry it didn't go well. Maybe the next person you meet'll be the right one."

"Hopefully," Birdie murmured, sadly smiling up at Dean. "At least you've already found the one."

Dean immediately smiled at that. Isla Carters had been one of Dean's first loves, but they'd broken up before going to college when their lives started to go in opposite directions. But, as fate would have it, their paths crossed again a few years later and the spark they thought died between them was reignited. Neither of them wanted it to burn out again and they got back together, falling in love with one another more and more each day. "Speaking of the misses, Isla wants to invite you over for dinner again."

Birdie's smile turned into a genuine one, immediately nodding her head. "I'd love to."

Dean's smile widened, adjusting his tie as he stood up straight. "Perfect. I'll let her know and we can pick a date."

"Okay," Birdie said, scooting her chair closer to her desk. Birdie spotted one of the IT guys walking over, a small smile on his lips as he made his way towards Birdie. Dean noticed, taking that as a sign to get started on his own work. He and Birdie shared one last smile before he headed down the hall towards his office, Birdie feeling herself begin to get into the flow of work for the day.

It wasn't the most exciting job in the world, and she wasn't really sure if an office job was meant for her as her passions were mostly in music and art, but she didn't really mind. It just gave her something to do now, or until she found something where she could use her main skill set for her fulltime job.

But, when she needed a change, it would find her when it was time.

After eight long hours, the day was finally over and it was time to head home. Birdie had juggled at least one hundred phone calls, responded to a few dozen emails (both for herself and for Dean since he became pretty busy near the end of the day), had a nice chat with Mr. Edward Adler about some new ideas he was hoping to introduce to the company before he met with Dean's, and even turned away one of the HR representatives, Lynn Grimes, when she showed up unannounced and claimed she needed to speak to Dean despite him being in a meeting.

In the few weeks that Birdie had been Dean's assistant, she quickly learned that the women there absolutely loved him, and for some reason a couple of them thought it was appropriate to just come by and interrupt his day when they should've been working despite the fact they knew he was in a committed relationship since pictures of him and his girlfriend were plastered all over his office. Lynn Grimes didn't like she was sent away and was ready to threaten to report Birdie for lying (she wasn't), but Birdie just kindly pointed out that the woman didn't have any evidence that she was doing anything wrong and the woman simply huffed and stormed off, muttering to herself.

A perfect way to end the day.

"Dean, you do not need to go on a diet," Birdie said, looking over at him with a pointed look on her features. Dean was thinking about starting a new diet and had mentioned it to Birdie to see what she thought. He had a feeling he already knew what Birdie would say based on how much junk food he saw the woman inhale, but perhaps she might've shown Dean a different perspective on the matter as they headed towards the elevators. Dean glanced down at his phone when he felt it vibrate in his hand, an amused smile appearing on his lips as he met Birdie's eye again. "You're like the healthiest person I know."

Dean titled his head, raising a brow in her direction. "You really think so?"

Birdie scoffed, adjusting her purse over her shoulder just as they reached the elevators. She reached forward, pressing the down button. "Hey, don't let that go to your head. I barely know anyone around here so it's not much of a competition."

Dean chuckled and shook his head, looking back down at his phone. The elevator dinged after a couple of seconds and the two of them entered. Birdie softly sighed to herself as she turned forward inside the tiny room, facing the open doors. Dean stood to the right of her, a small smile appearing on Birdie's lips when she saw him send a message with a heart. He was texting Isla.

Birdie leaned against the wall and reached up to her neck, absentmindedly fiddling with her necklace between her fingers.

"Do I know both of you?"

Birdie furrowed her brows together, leaning forward slightly to peer around Dean. That was when she realized someone else was in the elevator with them. He was taller than her and Dean, shaggy brown hair that swooped down a little past his ears. He wore a bright yellow shirt with Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc. Tech Support in the upper left corner. A shoulder bag dangled over his left shoulder, one hand loosely holding onto it as his hazel eyes flickered from Dean and towards Birdie.

Birdie's lips partially fell open, shifting on her feet as she moved forward a few steps. Her brows furrowed together slightly, getting the strange feeling that she knew him━━━like she was safe around him.

It was similar to when she met Dean, but it was different with this man somehow.

It was━━━

"Have we met before?"

Dean looked at him oddly, glancing towards Birdie almost like he was silently asking her if she knew the man. She pursed her lips, shrugging her shoulders as she shook her head. "I don't think so," Dean answered, turning his attention back to his phone.

The man scoffed under his breath, shaking his head in thought. "I'm sorry, you guys just look really familiar," he said, causing Dean to face him again, looking rather uncomfortable. Birdie silently twisted her lips, a small smile appearing a few moments later.

Dean, on the other hand, shook his head as if he was annoyed by the man's mere presence. "Sorry, we don't know you, pal," he said, stuffing his phone in the pocket inside his blazer. Birdie tilted her head, hearing the elevator ding as it finally arrived on the main floor. Birdie and the man watched Dean quickly exit the elevator, slowly looking at each other.

Birdie breathed out a nervous laugh, pushing some loose strands of hair out of her face. "He's usually really nice," she said, biting her lip as she stepped out of the elevator. The man forced out a quiet laugh, stepping out as well.

Dean slowed to a stop up ahead, frowning when he realized Birdie wasn't behind him like usual. He turned on his heel, a look of shock spreading on his features when he saw Birdie was still with the strange man.

Birdie gave the man a small smile, folding her arms over her chest as she peered up at him. He shifted under her gaze, giving her a strange look. Birdie noticed, sheepishly smiling. "Sorry, I-I wasn't trying to stare, but. . .you do seem familiar. . ."

"Really?" he asked, raising his brows in surprise.

"Yeah," Birdie nodded, her smile still prominent on her lips. She took a few steps to the side, keeping her eyes locked with the man's. "I don't know why, though. . ."

The man timidly smiled, raising his brows as Birdie started to walk away and in the direction of where Dean was impatiently waiting for her with his eyes suspiciously narrowed on them. The man's curiously eyes trailed after Birdie, chuckling under his breath. "Wait," he  called out, "What's your name?"

Birdie smiled again and turned on her heel, walking backwards as she faced him. "Birdie!" she shouted. "Birdie Dixon!"

"I'm Sam," he said, smiling back at her. This time, Birdie noticed he had dimples poking out. Cute. "Sam Wesson!"

Birdie chuckled, coming to a stop next to Dean. "I'll see ya around, Sam!"

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Birdie let out a tired sigh as the elevator stopped once again, adjusting her purse over her arm when it started to slip. The day had droned on just like always, the same faces coming and going all day long with the same issues. She had had an endless sea of emails to pilfer through, answering most of them while she forwarded the rest to Dean since it was his response that was needed. But, throughout the day, she found herself wandering about the man from the elevator, Sam.

She couldn't remember what he said his last name was, but she knew she would recognize him if she saw him.

Birdie shook her head, pushing Sam's face out of her mind. She highly doubted she'd be seeing him again, or anytime soon. Birdie curiously glanced to the side, noticing Dean was still on his phone. He was standing to the right of her like usual, four other people inside the tiny space as they waited for it to reach their designated floors; they were all above Birdie, and she assumed they were all going to different meetings since they usually preferred to have them after hours. The doors parted moments later and Birdie lifted her head, unable to stop the small smile that graced her lips when she saw Sam step inside. He reached in front of Dean, pushing one of the buttons. He glanced to the side, doing a double take when he noticed Dean and Birdie were in there again. Dean shifted, looking away in hopes that Sam wouldn't try talking to him, or Birdie, again.

Birdie leaned against the wall as the elevator started to move again, glancing towards Sam as he struggled to not look at Dean. Dean looked over when he felt like someone was staring at him, unintentionally catching Sam's eye. Birdie quickly looked to the side when Dean turned his head in her direction as if wondering if Sam was looking at both of them again. The elevator dinged again, everyone but Sam, Dean, and Birdie getting off. Their eyes followed their fellow co-workers, a tense silence filling the elevator as the doors slowly started to close.

"Can I ask you two a question?" Sam wondered.

Birdie turned her head towards him, slightly raising her brows. "Uh, sure━━━"

"Look, man, I told you, I don't know you━━━we don't know you."

Sam sighed, pleadingly looking between Dean and Birdie. "I just wanna ask you guys one question."

Dean briefly looked around and then over at Birdie, seeing her nonchalantly shrug. He heavily sighed, nodding his head in defeat; there wasn't really a way to escape the conversation, and it didn't help Birdie had already started to say yes. "Sure," Dean finally said.

Sam softly nodded, breathing out a laugh as he tilted his head to the side. "What do you guys think about. . .ghosts?"

Did he really just ask them what they thought of ghosts?

Dean blinked, furrowing his brows together. "Ghosts?" he repeated, looking at Sam with suspicion.

Sam nodded, shrugging a shoulder. "Do you believe in them?"

Dean forced out a laugh, shaking his head as he looked to the side. "Uh, tell you the truth, I've never given it much thought."

Sam glanced towards Birdie, waiting for her response. "Uh, I mean, I-I think they're real," Birdie confessed, giving Dean a look when he turned towards her with a slightly judgemental expression. "Well, my Dad's always kinda been into ghosts━━━he thinks he's a part-time ghostbuster or somethin'. But he's not. He's-he's a high school art teacher in Senoia, Georgia."

"What about vampires?" Sam wondered next.

"Vampires?" Birdie repeated this time.

"What?" Dean dryly chuckled in disbelief. "Why?"

"'Cause I've been having some. . ." Sam started, looking away from them for a moment as he thought about how to phrase what he was trying to say without causing Dean and Birdie to think he was more strange than they already thought, "weird dreams lately. You know what I mean? Nothing gross like that or anything, but━━━"

"No, not really," Dean quickly denied, looking towards the elevator doors in hopes that they would open and he could make his escape. It felt like they were taking even longer than usual.

"So. . ." Birdie noticed Dean close his eyes, licking his lips. He looked at the ground, quite obviously not wanting to be a part of the conversation any longer. "Neither of you ever had any. . .weird dreams?"

Dean quickly looked up, a hint of fury and annoyance swirling in his green eyes. "All right, look, man, I don't know you, okay?" Dean said, adjusting his bag on his shoulder as he reached forward to press one of the buttons again. "But I'm gonna do a public service and, uh, let you know that-that you overshare." Sam's face fell slightly just as the elevator dinged; the sound was like music to Dean's ear. Dean quickly turned his head, looking at Birdie before she had a chance to respond to Sam. "How 'bout I walk you to your car tonight?"

"Dean, you always do th━━━"

"Please, I insist. Matter of fact━━━dinner's on Is and I tonight, come on," Dean said, giving her a firm look as he subtly nudged his head in Sam's direction. Birdie heavily sighed, reluctantly nodding her head in agreement.

Dean firmly smiled and nodded, ushering her forward to walk out first. She stole a glance over her shoulder towards Sam, giving him a tiny smile before Dean started to lead her towards the exit. He quickly led her towards the doors, not missing the glare she was sending him as they slipped outside. "Birdie━━━"

"You didn't have to be so mean to him," she cut in, coming to a stop right in front of the doors.

Dean heavily sighed, glancing around as he could still feel the eyes of some of their co-workers watching their tense interaction from inside the building. "Let's talk away from the eavesdroppers, okay?"

Birdie huffed but obliged, walking alongside Dean. Once they were a good distance away from the building, Birdie sharply turned her head towards Dean just as he was expecting. "What the hell was that about?" she demanded to know. He was her boss and she didn't think it would be right to question or be harsh to him, but he was also her friend which meant that not all of the rules applied.

"What do you mean? The dude's a freakin' weirdo," Dean said, shooting Birdie a look. Birdie's eyes briefly flickered over to her car━━━a dark blue, jeep wrangler━━━as Dean started to walk towards his silver Prius.

"All he did was ask about ghosts."

"And vampires," Dean said, an incredulous expression still on his face. "Birdie, come on. He's a freak."

"No, he's not."

"Why are you getting so defensive? You don't even know the guy."

Birdie faintly shook her head. She reached into her purse and pulled out her keys, holding her hand out. "Truthfully. . .I-I don't know," she said. "But I just don't think he's not the kind of person you think he is."

Dean momentarily closed his eyes, heavily sighing as he did so. "Okay, fine. . .do you still wanna come over for dinner? I know Isla's dyin' to see you again."

Birdie bit the inside of her cheek as she thought for a moment. Then a small smile started to spread across her lips. "Yeah, I can't leave her with just you, can I?"

"Ha, ha," Dean faked a laugh, grabbing his key as well. "Wanna ride with me? I can drop you off at home after and pick you up in the morning."

"Thanks, but I think I'll drive myself this time."

Dean suspiciously narrowed his eyes at the younger woman. "You just don't want to listen to the news in the car, do you?"

"Exactly," Birdie agreed, laughing as she started to head towards her car. "As much as I don't mind your grandma driving skills, I can't handle not havin' any music."

"I can turn on music━━━"

"I want real music, Dean."

"Hey, I listen━━━"

"No, you don't," Birdie snickered, stopping beside her car. "Isla does, but you do not."

"How about we let her decide then?"

"Okay, but she's gonna agree with me."

Dean faked out a laugh, opening his door. "Yeah, right. She'll pick me over you any day."

"Birdie's right."

Birdie triumphantly grinned, holding her head up high as she smugly looked at Dean. He sharply turned, looking at his girlfriend in utter disbelief. Isla Carters giggled, swallowing her bite of grilled chicken.

"Told you so," Birdie said, taking a bite of her own piece of chicken as her shimmering eyes stayed glued to Dean.

Isla already had dinner made by the time Dean and Birdie arrived, a plate for Birdie in her usual spot as if Dean told Isla ahead of time that they would be having a guest joining them. Birdie's eyes had skimmed over their luxurious apartment when she walked in, taking notice that there was a new framed photo of Dean and Isla hanging by the front door. The apartment held a modern touch, reminding Birdie of the displays in a furniture store she always liked to fantasize about living in one day. Yet in many ways, it felt homey from all the knickknacks on display.

The kitchen was spacious, sage green cabinets that lined the room. In the middle, there was an island where the gas stove was located with a large fruit basket next to it. Following Dean into the dining room, there was a glass table in the shape of a circle with four chairs. She could tell there were different sections of the living room, the half that Isla decorated and the part she reluctantly let Dean conquer. Next to the windows where you could see the vibrant city lights, there was a green couch that matched the kitchen cabinets and a wooden coffee table where graded homework sat in a neat pile. An open laptop showed a few documents, the text too small for Birdie to make out. She noticed the knitted pillows on top of the couch, light pink in color. A pink blanket was draped over one of the arms with a teddy bear sitting in the corner━━━Isla's things, no doubt. In the other half of the living room, there was Dean's desk. Behind it was an exercise machine with a metal rack that held trophies and towels; it was obvious he was the one who decorated the area.

A large salad for all of them to put in some bowls was placed in the middle of the kitchen table, but Birdie was the only one who opted for just eating the grilled chicken and roasted potatoes. It all smelt so wonderful, and it tasted even better; that was no surprise considering it was prepared by Isla.

Dean shook his head, leaning back in his chair as he swallowed his bite of food. "You're supposed to pick my side no matter what."

Isla innocently shrugged, sharing an amused grin with Birdie. "I'm sorry, babe, but Birdie's right. My music taste is much better than yours." Dean scoffed, angrily taking a bite of his salad. Isla playfully rolled her eyes at Dean's childish antics, turning her attention back to Birdie. "Just ignore him."

"Don't worry, I already do," Birdie chuckled. She picked up her glass of lemonade, taking a small sip before she sat it back down. A small smile graced her lips, but it suddenly faltered as Sam suddenly popped into her mind.

"So, what's new in your life, Birdie?" Isla wondered. "Is━━━"

"She's got a boyfriend now."

Isla's eyes widened, gaping towards Birdie as the woman frantically shook her head in denial. "No, no, I certainly do not have a boyfriend," Birdie said, shooting Dean a sharp glare. "Asshole."

Dean snickered to himself, not bothering to hide his amusement as he continued to eat his dinner. Birdie rolled her eyes, offering Isla a small smile as the woman's eyes stayed glued to her with curiosity. "There's. . .there's this guy we met in the elevator," Birdie explained. "Dean didn't get the best impression from him, but I. . .I don't think he's so bad."

Isla turned her head in her boyfriend's direction. "What don't you like about him?" she asked. Birdie leaned forward, placing her chin on her hand as she awaited Dean's answer.

Dean heavily sighed, his eyes flickering between the women. "He-he's just. . .strange. He wanted to know what Birdie and I thought about ghosts and vampires, and then he tried to tell us about his weird dreams━━━"

"You make it sound creepy━━━"

"It was creepy━━━"

"No it wasn't━━━"

"Yes it was━━━"

"Hey, hey, do not make me put you two in time out," Isla interrupted, giving both Dean and Birdie a stern look━━━it was most likely the same one she gave her kindergarten students when they started to act up in class. Birdie leaned back in her seat, using her fork to move around some of her potatoes around on her plate with a slight pout. She looked across at Dean, narrowing her eyes; he'd gotten them both in trouble. Isla quietly sighed, raising her brows as she glanced between her boyfriend and Birdie. "What's this man's name?"

"Sam," Birdie answered. "Sam. . .Wesson, I think?"

"And both of you are sure you've never met him?"

Dean firmly nodded. "Oh, I'm sure."

"He doesn't look familiar to me," Birdie said, opting to not mention the fact that he felt familiar to her. She wasn't sure if they would understand what she meant by that, and she certainly didn't want to have to explain it.

Isla nodded, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. She set it down beside her almost empty plate, softly smiling at Birdie. "Maybe it's nothing then. Do either of you think you'll see him again?"

"I don't know," Birdie said. "I think he works in IT, so, probably."

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," Isla said, offering Dean and Birdie a smile. "Maybe he was just nervous being around you two since you're higher up than him."

"Yeah, I don't know, Is," Dean said, standing up. He picked up his plate, grabbing Isla's as well since she was done, too. "There's something about him that doesn't sit right with me."

"How about you just give him one more chance?" Birdie suggested. "It might be a while before we see him again, but maybe you'll think differently by then."

Dean glanced over his shoulder as he set the dishes in the sink. His eyes briefly flickered towards Isla, seeing her silently nod in agreement with Birdie. He softly sighed, reluctantly nodding as he turned to fully face the girls. "Fine," he said, leaning against the counter. "But the minute he starts talking about monsters again, it's over."

"Okay, okay," Birdie playfully rolled her eyes. She picked up her own plate and carried it over, placing it in the sink along with the other ones. Then she grabbed the dish soap, shaking her head when Dean tried to take it from her. "Hey, no. You guys made dinner, so I can do the dishes. . .this time."

"We can all do them," Isla said, coming up beside Birdie. "Us women will clean and you dry."

Dean smiled. "Works for me."

"Don't think we're giving that job because you deserve it," Birdie said. "We just don't think you'll properly clean the dishes."

"That was one time━━━"

"It was four times━━━"

"Guys━━━"

"Well how do you━━━"

Isla shook her head, chuckling to herself as Dean and Birdie bickered back and forth.

They sounded just like her students.

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The first thing Birdie saw when she arrived at work the next morning was a dozen police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks parked right out front with parts of the street blocked off to make sure there weren't crowds surrounding the building or trying to get inside when they didn't work there. Dozens of people milled about in the lobby, all of them talking about how a body had been found on the IT floor in the breakroom.

Birdie whizzed past those people and slipped inside the first elevator to open, not hesitating to go to the said floor. She weaved through her fellow co-workers as she hurried down the narrow hall, fastening her pace when she spotted Dean standing near the very front of the crowd. He was next to another man, but Birdie didn't remember his name.

"Hey," Birdie softly greeted him, coming up to the other side of Dean.

He turned his head towards her, faintly nodding his head in greeting. "Morning, Ms. Dixon. Heck of a way to start the day."

"Yeah, no shit," Birdie murmured.

"No swearing, young lady." Birdie turned her head to look slightly over her shoulder, seeing an older woman in a button up suit harshly glaring at her. Birdie just scoffed under her breath and faced forward again. Birdie stared ahead where a group of police officers were standing, a prominent frown on her lips as she watched the body be wheeled down the hall by a coroner. She twisted her lips, glancing to the side to see Sam standing near one of the cubicles, his eyes noticing her and Dean.

Dean seemed to notice him too, but he quickly looked away. "Somethin' about this seem not right to you two?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as he asked Birdie and the guy next to him.

"Uh, yeah, try the whole thing," the man replied, turning his head towards Dean. "I'm telling you, man. . .I'll never eat popcorn again."

"Yeah, right," Dean softly said.

"Mr. Smith. . ." Birdie said, "We should probably head up. Our work's not gonna do itself, is it?"

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Lead the way."

Birdie stole one last look at Sam, offering him a timid smile before she headed towards the elevators again.

It was a couple of hours later and Birdie hadn't stopped hearing about the body that was found. Almost everyone in the entire building was on the fritz about the whole thing, asking all sorts of questions to anyone who would listen.

Should they even be allowed in the building?

Was it really a suicide?

Shouldn't they be at home while the police were investigating the scene?

Why do you think he did it━━━if he even did it?

When will IT get a new microwave?

It was just constant, but Birdie tried to focus on all of the work she still had to finish before the end of the day. Dean stayed in his office most of the time, occasionally stepping out to ask Birdie about a few things. He'd come by a couple minutes ago and asked her to call an Ian Walsh in IT to come to his office for a quick meeting while he finished up some last minute paperwork, so that was what she was doing right now.

Birdie patiently waited as the phone rang, skimming through her unopened emails with a small frown. She had so much work to do and she had a feeling she wouldn't be able to━━━

"Tech support. This is Sam."

"Wait, Sam?" Birdie asked in surprise, clicking back on the employee IT contact page. She leaned in close, glancing through the list of phone numbers. There, under Ian Walsh, was Sam Wesson━━━the person she actually called. "Oh, shit."

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh! Oh my gosh, I am so sorry," Birdie quickly apologized. "It's, uh, Birdie. . .from-from the elevator. . ."

"Oh, hey," Sam said, his voice noticeably softening. "Did. . .did you need something? Is your computer freezing or━━━"

"No, uh, my computer's actually fine at the moment, but thank you. . .I'm so sorry. I accidentally dialed your number instead of someone else," Birdie sheepishly explained, sighing to herself. How embarrassing. "Sorry again, Sam."

"It's alright, Bird."

"Did. . .did you just call me Bird?"

"I, uh. . .yeah, I did," Sam nervously laughed. "Sorry, it-it sorta just slipped out. It won't happen again."

Birdie shifted in her chair, leaning her chin on her hand that was propped on her desk. "That's okay. I don't mind," she said. Truthfully, she didn't mind when people called her Bird. It was a nickname most of her friends and family had called her, so she was used to it. "Wait, uh, what you were asking last night━━━"

"I-I'm sorry. You don't have to worry about that happening again," Sam said. "I just. . ."

"Hey." Birdie sharply turned around in her chair, seeing Dean standing a little ways behind her so she could see him, "You call Ian yet?"

"I'm just about to, Mr. Smith," she formally replied, flashing him a cheeky smile. He returned it, retreating back into his office. Birdie softly sighed, realizing Sam had quieted after he heard her talking to someone else. "Sorry about that. But, uh. . .just for the record, I believe in ghosts. . .and vampires."

Sam chuckled, and Birdie couldn't help but wonder if his dimples were showing again. "Good to know it's not just me."

Birdie laughed along with him, readjusting her posture so her back was pressed against the backrest of her chair. "Alright, I gotta get back to work, but. . .I'm sure we'll see each other soon. Bye, Sam."

"Bye, Birdie."

Birdie then hung up, scooting closer to her desk. She placed her finger on Ian's number, making sure she dialed the correct number this time. She held the phone up to her ear once again, listening to it ring for a couple of seconds.

"Tech support. This is Ian."

"Hi, Ian. My name's Birdie and I'm the assistant to the Director of Sales and Marketing, Mr. Smith would like you to come up to his office."

"Be right up."

The call ended just like that and Birdie placed her phone back down. She leaned forward, her fingers skillfully moving along her keyboard as she typed up a quick message to Dean that informed him Ian was headed up to his office now; it would've been easier to get up and verbally tell him, but truthfully she just didn't feel like getting up. She closed out of a few of her tabs she no longer needed, stopping when she saw one of them was a news website. The eye catching headline read: EMPLOYEE FOUND DEAD AT SANDOVER BRIDGE & IRON INC.

Birdie curiously glanced around to make sure no one was nearby and clicked on the article. It gave the gist of the employee's, Paul Durban's, life and what he did at the company. It also stated that his body was found in the breakroom on the IT floor, but thankfully it didn't say how he died; no one else needed to know he'd stuck his head inside the microwave. The rest of the article talked about his wife and kids that were now left behind, but Birdie didn't get to finish it when she looked up and saw a man coming down the hall with a nervous look on his face. He wore one of the tech support shirts that was perfectly tucked into an ironed pair of slacks. She figured he was Ian.

"Ian?" she asked, capturing his attention. He quickly nodded his head, coming to stand in front of her desk. Birdie warmly smiled, standing up. She could sense he was nervous, but she highly doubted Dean had called him up there for something very serious. "If you'll just follow me. . ."

Ian closely followed her, Birdie stealing a glance over her shoulder at him. She didn't comment on his weary expression, coming to a stop in front of Dean's opened door. She saw him focused on his computer, bluetooth headset in his ear but lips unmoving as his eyes scanned his screen. Birdie lifted her hand, gently knocking on the door with her knuckles.

Dean immediately looked up, instantly noticing Birdie and Ian. "Mr. Walsh is here to see you," Birdie said, nudging her head towards Ian.

"Ah, perfect," Dean said, giving Birdie a firm nod. "Come on in."

She returned it and offered Ian a small smile as she turned on her heel, returning to her desk. She plopped down in her chair with a sigh, momentarily closing her eyes. She still had so much work to do, but she really could have used a nap right about then.

She wasn't sure how long she sat like that, but her eyes suddenly jolted open when she heard a shout from behind her.

"Ian? Ian. Hey!"

She peered over her shoulder, doing a double take when she saw Dean hurrying after Ian down the hall. Birdie quickly got up from her desk, jogging after him as Dean rounded the corner after Ian. Birdie quickly headed in the same direction and around a few more corners, slowing to a stop when she saw Dean and Ian weren't there.

"Ian. Look at me."

Birdie stepped forward, frowning as she looked at the door to the men's bathroom to her right. That was where Dean's voice came from. "Dean?" Birdie suspiciously asked, cautiously knocking on the door. "Is everything alright in there?"

She heard a loud thud a few seconds later, causing her eyes to widen. She hastily pushed open the door at Dean's lack of response, gasping in horror when she saw Ian laid on the bathroom floor, a number two pencil sticking out of the side of his neck as blood gushed out from the gnarly wound. Dean was kneeled beside him, lips trembling as he looked at Birdie with horror etched on his face. Then his eyes flickered to the side, his face falling. Birdie quickly followed his gaze, stepping back in surprise when she saw a reflection of an older man in one of the stall doors. She and Dean turned their heads to the other side, expecting to see the man there, but he wasn't. They looked back at where the reflection had just been, but it was now gone.

Birdie let out a shaky breath, her gaze falling on Ian again. His eyes were still wide open, body unmoving as blood continued to pool around his body. Water and soap continued to spill from the sinks and dispensers, dripping down onto the floor; Birdie didn't even notice they were on when she came in.

"Bird, go get help!" Dean shouted, snapping Birdie back to reality. "Now!"

She frantically nodded, catching Dean's eye as she staggered towards the door. "I'm-I'm gonna━━━I'm gonna go get help."

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

The coroner rolled a body bag past just like they had earlier that morning, and again with an audience watching their every move. Dean was talking to two police officers, one jotting down his statement while the other asked the questions. Another set of officers had just finished questioning Birdie, asking the same questions that Dean was asked, but they didn't get as much information out of her as they did with Dean. "He was, uh━he was standing there in front of the mirror, and then━━━" Dean's eyes fell on Sam who was further down near the elevators, his voice coming to a stop. "And he stabbed himself in the neck. I'm sorry, that's, um. . ."

Birdie offered Mr. Adler a faint smile when the older man patted her shoulder in a comforting manner. "I'm sorry you had to see something like that, Ms. Dixon. If you need anything, anything at all━━━"

"Thank you, Mr. Adler. I appreciate that," Birdie quietly interrupted. She appreciated the man's attempt at comforting her, but there was no way of erasing Ian's body from Birdie's mind. She saw a dead body━━━a real one that was nothing like what she saw in TV shows and movies. Anyone would've had a hard time trying to process it, but. . .she almost felt. . .unfazed by it. But, maybe that was just her mind trying to cover up how she really felt. "I'm fine."

Mr. Adler offered Birdie one last smile and headed down the hall with a few other employees, a couple of them coming up to Mr. Adler to see what juicy information he'd gotten out of Birdie. Birdie's eyes followed the older man, looking to the side where suddenly she spotted Sam. Someone came up beside Birdie just then, causing her to look away.

It was Dean.

"Hey, why don't you head home for the rest of the day?" Dean suggested, giving her a small smile.

Birdie partially returned it, shaking her head. "No, that's not necessary. I could use work as a distraction."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Dean's eyes lingered on Birdie for a few seconds, nodding his head. He watched more officers head towards the elevators, other employees doing the same now that the excitement was dying down. Other officers ushered more people away so they could finish assessing the crime scene, Sam being one of them. He glanced over his shoulder, just briefly catching Birdie's eye again. She quietly sighed to herself, giving Dean a small smile. Then she headed down the hall, feeling relief seeing there wasn't anyone waiting for her.

She pulled her chair back and sank down, faintly hearing the chatter from the police at the other end of the hall. She slouched in her chair with her legs stretched out in front of her, undoing the first few buttons of her blouse when it felt like it had suddenly gotten tighter. She looked at her computer screen, frowning when she noticed she had triple the amount of emails as before. At first it seemed like it would be doable, going right back to work after what she'd just seen, but she just couldn't bring herself to even touch her computer.

Something about Ian's death didn't feel right.

She moved her chair side to side, gaze focusing on her cell phone━━━

She flinched when her work phone started to ring, a gasp of surprise slipping past her lips. She cleared her throat and then placed her phone to her ear, hoping she sounded just as perky as expected. "Birdie D━━━"

"Hey, come to my office."

"Why?" Birdie wondered, having instantly recognized it as Dean's voice.

"I need to talk to you and. . .Sam. . .about a few things."

Birdie couldn't hide her surprise at the fact Dean had included Sam. "Wait, you actually wa━━━"

"Just come to my office. I'll explain it then."

"Okay, okay."

Birdie hung up her phone and stood up, smoothing down her blazer and pants as best as she could. She pushed her hair out of her face and headed down the hall, slowing to a stop as she entered Dean's office. He had taken off his button up that had some of Ian's blood stained on it, now slipping on a clean one. He nodded in greeting, watching the younger woman sink down in one of the plush chairs in front of his desk.

"You really asked Sam to come up here?" Birdie couldn't help but ask.

Dean nodded, adjusting the collar of the button up. "Yeah. He should be here━━━"

The sound of a knock interrupted Dean. Birdie turned in the chair, her gaze landing on Sam. "Come on in," Dean said, finishing the last few buttons. "Shut the door."

Sam slowly turned and shut the door behind him with a weary expression. Then he stepped forward, stopping near the empty chair beside Birdie. Dean stood behind his own chair, his hands tightly holding the back of it. "Who the hell are you?" Dean demanded to know, looking at Sam with suspicion.

Sam scoffed under his breath, raising his brows as a faint smile appeared on his lips. "I'm not sure I know," he answered, breathing out a chuckle.

"What the hell does that mean?"

Sam heavily sighed, adjusting his bag that dangled on his shoulder. "Sam Wesson," he answered. "I started here three weeks ago."

Dean slowly nodded. "All right," he softly said. "You cornered me and Birdie in the elevator talking about ghosts. And now. . ."

Sam gulped, suspiciously staring at Dean when he noticed Dean's hesitation. "Now what?"

Dean blinked and quickly shook his head as if to rid what he was about to say from his mind. "Now nothing," he said, moving towards the other side of his desk. He picked up a water bottle, but inside of it was a yellow-brown liquid that looked like vomit in Birdie's opinion. "I, uh. . .so you started working here three weeks ago, huh?" Sam nodded. "Yeah, me too. And Birdie."

Sam glanced down at Birdie, seeing her nod. "Three weeks today."

Dean unscrewed the lid of the bottle, Birdie's grimace growing larger when she saw what looked like tiny chunks of something floating inside it. "It's the, uh, Master Cleanse," he said, sitting on the table behind his desk. "You tried it? Phenomenal. Detoxes you like nobody's business."

Sam glanced down at Birdie, seeing her already looking up at him. "You were in the bathroom too?" he asked, trying to change the topic.

"Uh, yeah," Birdie softly said, fiddling with her fingers as she glanced over at Dean. "I-I-I didn't actually see it happen, but. . .I saw enough."

"When you guys were in that bathroom with Ian, did you see something?" Sam asked next, getting the feeling that there was something Dean and Birdie weren't telling him.

There had to be a reason Dean told him to come to his office.

Dean and Birdie shared a quick look, and Sam caught it. They definitely saw something inside that bathroom. "I don't know," Dean finally said, momentarily closing his eyes as he shrugged. "I don't know what I saw."

"It was a ghost," Birdie said, looking up at Dean again. Dean scoffed, shooting Birdie a look that went ignored by the woman.

Sam's eyes widened, but Dean spoke before he got the chance. "We were  freakin' out. The guy penciled his damn neck."

"You did, didn't you?" Dean didn't respond to Sam's question, only looking down. Birdie just nodded, twisting her lips. The old man in the reflection reappeared in her mind, reminding her of what she'd seen. It still didn't make much sense, but what if it really was a ghost? "Okay, listen. What if these suicides. . .aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something. . .not natural?"

Birdie knitted her brows, raising one at Sam a few seconds later. "You mean like something. . .supernatural?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Dean forced out a laugh as he stood up straight. "So, what, ghosts are real? And they're responsible for all the dead bodies around here?" he suggested, setting his drink on his desk before he sat down in his chair. "Is that what you're telling me?"

Sam moved, sinking into the chair next to Birdie. Birdie shifted in her seat, folding her arms over her chest as she looked between the two men.

Birdie wasn't sure why, but being with both of them. . .it almost felt right.

"I know it sounds crazy," Sam said. "But yes, that's what I'm telling you."

Dean nodded, leaning his elbows on his desk. "Uh-huh. Based on what?"

Sam was silent, thinking for a couple of seconds. "Instinct?"

Dean looked down, shaking his head. "I've got the same instinct."

"Seriously?" Sam asked.

Then he turned his head towards Birdie. "Yeah," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "And I. . .I feel like it's up to us, you know?"

"Yeah, I do. And you guys know those dreams I was tellin' you guys about?" Sam asked, breathlessly chuckling. Dean sighed, leaning his head into his hand. Birdie nodded, keeping her eyes focused on Sam. "I was dreaming about ghosts."

"Yeah?" Dean asked.

"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?" Dean asked, looking across at Sam in amusement.

Birdie faintly smiled, a shimmer of excitement igniting in her eyes. "Do you have superpowers?"

"No. I mean, that would be nuts," Sam quickly denied, huffing out a laugh. Birdie slightly frowned, twisting her lips.

'It would've been cool if he did', she thought.

"I-I'm just saying something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So I've been digging around a little." Birdie twisted in the seat, watching Sam pull some papers out of his bag he had in his lap. "I think I found a connection between the two guys."

Sam handed some of the papers to Birdie, giving the rest to Dean as they were all copies of the same information. Birdie's eyes skimmed over pages, realizing that they were emails━━━the emails of the dead employees.

"You broke into their email accounts?" Dean asked, raising his brows at Sam. That alone broke at least a dozen rules from the employee contract and was an immediate reason to be fired. Yet, Birdie didn't get the feeling Dean had any intention of turning in Sam, nor did she.

"I used. . .some skills that I happen to have to. . .satisfy my curiosity," Sam simply explained.

Birdie softly chuckled, nodding her head with approval. "Sweet. You must be like a computer whiz or somethin'."

Sam chuckled, seeing Dean nod along with the younger woman. Thank god he wasn't going to get fired for that. "Yeah, okay. So it turns out Ian and Paul both got this same email telling them to report to HR, room 1444."

"HR's on seven," Dean said.

"Exactly."

Dean shifted the papers in his hand, making them straight and then sat them on his desk. Birdie placed hers in her lap, immediate confusion running through her. "Should we go check this out?" Dean wondered.

"Like. . .right now?"

"No. No, it's getting late," Dean said, realizing how crazy he must've sounded. "You're right."

"Seriously?" Birdie frowned.

If anyone else died and they could've stopped it somehow. . .

Sam shared a brief look with Birdie, both of them simultaneously turning their heads to look at Dean. Sam slowly looked back at them, thinking for a couple of seconds. "I am dying to check this out right now," Sam confessed.

"Right?"

"Then what are we waiting for?"

That was all it took for the trio to quickly exit Dean's office.

They acted casual as they headed to the elevators, Birdie pausing to take a few things from her purse before she hurried after the boys. They remained silent as a few other people stepped inside and stopped on the floors before theirs, not paying any attention to Birdie, Sam, or even Dean. Once they finally reached their designated floor, they quickly exited the elevator without wasting another second. They walked down a narrow hall, an eerie silence settled over the three of them.

Birdie walked in between the boys, an odd sensation of déjà vu lingering in her mind like she'd done this before with them.

That didn't make any sense, though.

She ignored it and rounded a corner, but she froze when they heard a man yell that was followed by the sound of something crashing from the same direction. They shared a silent look with each other, fastening their paces.

Sam reached the door first and twisted the doorknob, discovering that it was locked. Birdie heavily sighed and shared a defeated look with Dean. Now what?

"Here, stand back," Sam instructed, nodding his head for Dean and Birdie to move out of the way. Birdie furrowed her brows together but did as asked along with Dean. She watched Sam take a small step back from the door, and then he lifted his leg, kicking the door open with ease.

Birdie's eyes tripled in size, lips falling open in surprise.

"Whoa," Dean breathed out.

"That was kinda hot," Birdie muttered, sheepishly smiling when Sam and Dean looked at her, who clearly overheard her comment. She quickly cleared her throat and peered inside the room, gasping at the sight of a metal shelf sitting on top of a man. "Oh shit!"

She rushed inside the apparent storage room, Sam and Dean quickly hurrying after her. A man with short dark hair and a yellow IT shirt was underneath the shelf, groaning in pain as he attempted to free himself. Monitors on the shelves around them showed static despite them not being plugged into anything, the sound echoing in the dimly lit room. Sam and Dean came up on the other side of Birdie, all three beginning to lift the shelf off the man.

Suddenly the old man that Dean and Birdie had seen in the bathroom appeared behind Dean without warning. He grabbed Dean by his shoulders and tossed him into the shelves behind them. Birdie gasped in horror, watching Dean tumble to the ground with a thud as another shelf fell down; thankfully it didn't land on Dean. The old man then rushed at Sam, slamming him into the shelf behind him before he had time to react. He grunted at the force, falling to the floor as well. The old man moved towards Birdie and she swung a fist, but he disappeared just as she was about to strike him.

"What the f━━━"

"Bird!"

Birdie yelped as she was grabbed from behind and forcefully tossed into the wall behind her. She hissed as the back of her head hit the wall, sinking to the floor with her eyes clenched shut. Fuck, that really hurt.

The man on the ground helplessly watched, staring up at the old man as he walked closer to him. The old man peered down at his hand, watching with a blank expression as it sparked with electricity.

Dean sat up and grabbed the first thing he could find; a wrench. Sam and Birdie sat up on their elbows, wincing slightly as pain shot through their bodies. Their gazes landed on Dean when he stood up, jaws dropping as Dean swung the tool through the old man.

The old man dissipated with a swish, stunning all of them.

Birdie gaped, noticing all of the monitors turned off at the same time and the sound of static ceased. They peered around the storage room, making sure that the old man wasn't still around. When they didn't see him return after a few seconds, they headed back over to the man on the ground to try and help him again. Sam and Dean lifted the shelf and Birdie grabbed hold of the man's hands, quickly pulling him out from underneath the shelf with a strength she didn't know she had.

Sam and Dean carefully set the shelf back down once the man was out from under it, heavily panting. Birdie let go of the man's hand and faced Sam and Dean, heavy breaths escaping past her lips.

"How'd you know how to do that?" Sam asked Dean.

"I have no idea," Dean answered.

The man stood up, gasping as his eyes flickered around at Sam, Dean, and Birdie. "What-who the hell was that?" he demanded to know. "Who. . .who are you people?"

Birdie's eyes slightly widened, glancing towards the boys. She wasn't exactly sure how to answer. She highly doubted━━━

"It was a ghost," Sam answered.

Birdie blinked in surprise, sharply turning her head towards Sam.

The man raised his brows, staring at Sam with an incredulous expression. "Excuse me?" he asked.

Dean quietly sighed, sharing a brief look with Sam and Birdie. "Why don't you just head back to work━━━better yet, just go home early and. . .and forget what happened here today. And, you'll still be paid for the rest of the day."

"But━━━"

"Just go," Dean said, dismissively waving his hand as a gesture for the man to leave. The man stared at Dean for a few seconds longer, his eyes flickering to Sam and Birdie. Then he took a small step back, exiting the room as he stole a few glances back over his shoulder.

Birdie let out a sigh once he was gone, leaning forward to place her hands on her knees. "Holy. . .fucking. . .shit," she breathed out, watching Sam and Dean nod in agreement. "Was that really a fuckin' ghost?"

"I don't know," Sam said, locking eyes with Birdie. "But we need to find out."

"But how? And where? I don't think it's really smart to━━━"

"Both of you, meet me in my office in an hour. I know a place."

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

"The place you know. . .is your apartment?"

Dean had just looked at Birdie with a glare when they walked into his apartment, causing her to snicker. They'd each driven separately, but they were all thinking about the ghost as they followed Dean to his home. Birdie had picked up in the last ten minutes of the car ride where they were headed, but she'd thought maybe there was a different room or floor━━━something━━━other than Dean's apartment where they could try to figure out what was going on without interruptions.

Birdie set her purse down on the table near the front door, noticing Isla's wasn't there. Dean caught the confusion on Birdie's face as he hung up his bag. "Isla's got parent teacher conferences tonight," he explained. "She won't be home for a while."

"Isla?" Sam wondered.

"His girlfriend," Birdie smiled. "I know, surprising, right?"

"Bitch," Dean mumbled.

Birdie sharply turned her head in his direction, shooting him a glare. Dean just ignored it and held out his hand towards Sam, offering to take his bag and hang it up. Sam gave him a faint smile, handing it to Dean. "Thanks."

Birdie made her way towards the couch, Sam close behind her as his eyes roamed the spacious apartment. Dean walked over to the fireplace by the glass windows on the other side of the couch, turning it on to warm up the chilly apartment. Sam closely watched him, his eyes flickering around the apartment as he took in the details. It was more homey than he was expecting.

Dean grabbed his Master Cleanse and walked in front of Sam and Birdie, taking a rather large gulp of his drink. "Holy shit, guys," he breathed out, the events from earlier replaying in his mind as if it was on a loop.

"Yeah," Sam said, adjusting his posture as he sat on the back of the leather couch beside Birdie. "I could use a beer."

"Oh, sorry, man. I'm on the Cleanse," Dean said, making his way towards the kitchen. "I got rid of all the carbs in the house."

Birdie turned her head, catching Sam's eye. "What kind of person does that?" she asked in a whisper. Sam breathed out a chuckle, shaking his head as Dean looked inside his fridge. "Fucking crazy people, that's who."

Sam chuckled again, quickly clearing his throat as Dean headed back over to them with two water bottles in his hands. "Hey, how the hell'd you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?" Sam asked Dean.

Dean handed the water bottles to Sam and Birdie, both of them softly thanking him. "Crazy, right?" Dean said. He stepped back over to the counter, picking up his own drink. "And nice job kicking that door too. That was very Jet Li. What are you, like a black belt or something?"

Sam laughed at the suggestion. "No. I have no clue how I did that," he said, shrugging his shoulders with a look of disbelief on his face. Birdie snickered to herself, taking a small sip of her water. "It's like. . .we've done this before."

"What do you mean, before? Like Shirley MacLaine before?"

"No, I. . ." Sam sucked in a heavy breath, trying to find a way to explain how he felt exactly. "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."

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

Birdie rolled her eyes, shooting Dean a pointed look. "Says the guy who has never worked in a cubicle in his entire life."

"No. Well, look, it's more than that. Like-like I don't like my job," Sam said, standing up as he spoke. He walked around Dean, taking a few more steps towards the kitchen. Birdie folded her arms over her chest, brows knitted together as she listened. "I don't like this town. I don't like my clothes. . .I don't like my own last name."

Birdie tilted her head to the side. "You don't like your own last name?"

"Do you like yours?" Sam wondered.

Birdie gaped with offense. "As a matter of fact I do."

Sam raised his brows for a few seconds, but then he shook his head. "I don't know how else to explain it, except that. . .it feels like I should be doing somethin' else," he said, leaning against the wall as he faced Dean and Birdie. "There's just somethin' in my blood. Like I was destined for something different. What about you guys? Either of you ever feel that way?"

Birdie pursed her lips together, letting out a quiet sigh. "Well. . .my job isn't exactly my favorite thing in the w━━━Dean, don't look at me like that," she said, noticing the offended expression that immediately appeared on her bosses face. "I just meant that-that I feel like I could be doing more, ya know? Like, I like my job, but it just doesn't feel like me."

"Yeah, exactly," Sam nodded, a small smile forming on his lips; at least someone understood what he was talking about.

Dean glanced between the two of them, realizing that they were now waiting for him to respond. "I don't believe in destiny," he said. "I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though."

Sam sighed, nodding in agreement. "All right, so, what do we do now?"

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

"Okay," Sam said, scrunching his face in realization just as Dean started to move past him. "Did you just call me Sammy?"

"Did I?" Dean asked.

"I think you did."

"He definitely did," Birdie chuckled, pushing herself onto her feet.

"Don't," Sam told Dean.

Dean nodded, confused as to why he even called Sam that in the first place. "Sorry."

Birdie hummed in thought, keeping her arms folded over her chest as she caught Sam's eye. "I kinda like it."

"Well I don't," Sam said.

"What about Samuel?" Birdie teased.

"I don't like that either."

Birdie giggled, playfully rolling her eyes. "Fine, have it your way. . .Sammy."

Sam let out a little huff, but a small smile appeared on his lips, causing his dimples to poke out.

Dean headed towards the door and grabbed his bag, taking it over to his desk. Sam walked over and grabbed his as well, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Birdie twisted her lips, feeling a little out of place as both men pulled out their own laptops. She'd left hers at home.

"Uh, here. . ." Sam scooted his chair over, offering Birdie a smile as he moved his computer to be in between him and the empty chair beside him. "If you want━━━"

Birdie warmly grinned and sat down next to him before Sam could even finish his sentence. Dean smiled from where he sat at his desk, snickering to himself.

"Alright, so how do we━━━"

"Uh, Dean?"

Birdie turned her head, lips parting in surprise when she saw Isla standing in the doorway. Her hair was neatly styled; elegant curls rolling down her shoulders like gentle waves. Her makeup was done in neutral shades to match her outfit━━━a red dress with off the shoulder straps, stopping at her ankles. Her brows were furrowed together, glancing around her apartment until her eyes finally fell on her boyfriend.

Sam's eyes scanned the woman's features, getting the same sensation that he knew her like when he first saw Dean and Birdie.

"Is, hey," Dean nervously laughed, standing up to go and greet his girlfriend. He smiled, nudging his head in Sam and Birdie's direction.

"Is?" Sam softly whispered to Birdie. "As in━━━"

"Isla the girlfriend? Yeah," Birdie whispered back.

"Uh, well, you already know Birdie," Dean said. "And this is Sam━━━"

"Sam?" Isla repeated, her eyes flickering over to Birdie with her unsaid question looming in her eyes. Birdie quickly shook her head, flashing a fake smile on her lips when Sam curiously turned his head towards her. Isla slowly looked over at Dean, setting her purse down beside Birdie's. "What. . .what's going on?"

"Uh, just some work stuff━━━"

"We're trying to stop a ghost━━━"

Dean and Birdie quickly looked at each other, eyes wide. Birdie looked back at Isla, noticing the surprise on the woman's face. Then Isla started to chuckle, walking towards Dean. "That's very funny, Birdie. If I'm interrupting, you can just tell me and I'll━━━" Isla's voice dragged off as she stopped beside Dean, catching his google search on his laptop: how do you stop a ghost that's killing people? She knitted her brows together, her smile faltering as her eyes locked with Dean's. "Wait, you can't be serious━━━"

"Isla, right?" Sam asked. The woman turned, faintly nodding her head. "We know this sounds crazy, insane even, but we think there's-there's a ghost at Sandover. . .and it's killing people."

Isla stole a glance at Birdie and then at Dean, both nodding in agreement. She had heard about the deaths, and it deeply concerned her considering it was where Dean and Birdie worked. But a ghost?

Her eyes scanned each of their expressions, none of them deterring.

After a few moments, she let out a soft sigh. "Okay. . .then let's find a way to stop it."

"Wait, you wanna help━━━"

"Dean, there's apparently a ghost at the place where you all work and it's killing people," Isla replied. "Of course I'm going to help. I can't have any of you dying if we can stop."

Dean grinned, eyes shining with nothing but love and adoration for Isla. Birdie softly smiled to herself, sharing it with Sam. "God, I love you," Dean said.

Isla hummed, giggling as Dean kissed her cheek. "I know. Now, let's get to it."

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

Dean and Isla were both still seated at Dean's desk while Sam and Birdie were at the kitchen table. They'd spent the last couple of hours scouring the internet for anything useful, but they weren't having much luck. But, soon enough Dean and Isla found a seemingly useful website that even included instructional videos by a group who called themselves Ghostfacers. Birdie thought they were a little odd, but the information they gave seemed more reliable than anything else they'd found.

First they had to figure out what they were dealing with. After some more research, Sam found a picture of the old man they saw━━━it was P.T. Sandover, the owner and founder of Sandover Bridge & Iron. He was dedicated to work and had no family, putting work over everything else in his life until he died in 1916. He used to say that he was the company, and that his very own blood pumped through the entire building. And, office 1444 was once considered to be the center of the company's others as it was Sandover's office. He was also said to be a difficult person to work for as he had exceptionally high standards, often going onto construction sites and even halting work until he could personally inspect each and every aspect of the structures. They also found out that this wasn't the first time employees had died at the company. Dean didn't think it was that strange given that the other deaths were in 1929 and that was when the stock market crashed, but Sandover alone had seventeen suicides that year.

It seemed even in death P.T. Sandover was trying to shape the employees into the perfect workers, and if they made a mistake no matter how minor. . .

After that, they continued watching the Ghostfacers videos to see what else they needed to know.

Now, in order to stop a ghost they had to. . .dig up the remains and salt and burn them. If they were cremated, however, they had to find something that the ghost could've been attached to that could count as their remains. Guns filled with salt rounds, anything made of iron, and salt in general could also stop the ghost. It wouldn't kill them, but it would give enough time to (hopefully) burn the remains.

But, there was one issue.

"It seems pretty impossible, honestly."

Birdie took a small sip of her water, leaning her elbows on the counter as she faced the others. "Maybe it's not that impossible." At that, the others slowly turned their heads to look in Birdie's direction. Dean slightly tilted his head, looking at Birdie with uncertainty━━━much like how Sam and Isla were. Birdie nervously laughed, standing up straight. "Well, I-I might. . .have some guns in the trunk of my car?"

"You what?" Dean asked in disbelief. "Why?"

Birdie shrugged her shoulders, holding her hands out at her sides. "I━━━my dad wants me to be protected. You never know what might happen."

"And you just keep them in your trunk?" Isla asked, raising her brows.

"Well, not all of them," Birdie said. "The rest are at home."

Sam's eyes widened even more. Birdie was nothing like what he expected, but that was a good thing. "That-that's perfect," he said, turning towards Dean and Isla. "You guys have salt?"

Isla smiled and walked over to the kitchen, opening up one of the cabinets to pull out two large containers of salt. "I think we have plenty."

Once they collected everything they could from inside Dean and Isla's apartment, they headed out to their cars. They parked in the furthest spots of the parking garage by Sandover and readied the guns there; true to Birdie's word, there were enough weapons and ammo for them to use in her trunk. They managed to fill Birdie's shotgun shells with salt, Birdie doing most of the work since she was the only one out of the four with experience using guns. Thankfully there weren't too many people still at work━━━mostly security guards and workaholics. The guard didn't pay any attention to the four as they walked in, large duffle bags in hand. Sam, Dean, Birdie, and Isla followed closely, hurrying towards the elevators before the guard noticed what they had in their hands or got suspicious of the bulges in the bags.

The metal doors parted just as they reached the elevators, quickly stepping inside the confined space.

"Set your cell phones to walkie-talkie in case we get separated," Dean said, already scrolling through his phone to do so. The others got their phones out as well, changing their settings.

"How the hell are we gonna find some ancient speck of DNA in a skyscraper?" Sam wondered, tapping on his phone.

"Well, that creepy storeroom used to be Sandover's office, right?" Dean asked, reaching forward and pressing on the 14th floor button. Birdie let out a quiet sigh, pocketing her phone once she changed her settings. "I say we check there first."

"Sounds like a plan," Sam said.

Before they knew it, the elevator dinged and the doors parted onto the 14th floor. Sam took the lead and walked down the hall, Birdie following suit. Isla and Dean trailed behind them, occasionally glancing behind them to make sure there wasn't anyone around to see what they were up to. Sam turned the door knob, slowly cracking it open when he found it was unlocked this time. He poked his head inside to find it was completely empty. He glanced back over his shoulder and nudged his head, opening the door further for all of them to enter.

"What are we supposed to look for?" Birdie wondered, setting the duffle bag behind the door. Dean and Isla walked forward as Sam stepped to the side, facing Birdie.

"You heard the Ghostfacers," Dean said. "We need to find some remains."

"But that could be anything," Isla pointed out.

"Yeah, like a single piece hair stuck under a shelf━━━"

"Well, get to lookin' then," Dean said, gesturing to the shelf in front of Birdie. She huffed, shooting him a glare in response. She did as instructed, though, beginning to rummage through everything placed on the shelves.

They each moved fast, making sure they didn't leave any part of the room out. Dean and Isla stayed together, and Birdie had somehow found herself searching alongside Sam without even realizing it. Birdie moved down to another drawer of the desk near the far wall, sighing as it was mainly empty notebooks that had more dust than writing inside. Sam was looking in the middle drawer, but they both turned their heads when they heard footsteps behind them. They startled at the sight of a security guard, his dark eyes suspiciously narrowed on the two of them.

"What the hell are you two doing here?"

Dean immediately ducked out of sight, grabbing Isla's arm to yank her down beside him so she wouldn't be spotted as well. Birdie and Sam both shared a weary look with one another, slowly standing up.

'Well, fuck me,' Birdie thought to herself.

"Uh, nothin'," Sam quickly answered, nervously laughing. Birdie did the same, catching Sam's eye. She turned her head back towards the guard, clearing her throat when she didn't see him smile along with them. "We just━━━"

"Come with me." The guard stepped forward and grabbed Sam and Birdie's arms, guiding them towards the door. He nudged them out of the room and then shut the door behind them, grabbing them once again to guide them towards the elevators.

"Man, listen. Look. It's okay," Sam tried to explain. "We-we work here."

"Whatever. Tell it to the cops," the guard replied.

Birdie scoffed, narrowing her eyes on the guard. She moved her arm slightly to try and make him loosen his grip, but he only tightened his hold. "Why else would he wear that shirt?" she sharply demanded to know, gesturing towards Sam's shirt that you could easily see the company's logo in the top left corner.

"He probably stole it," the guard said, not bothering to look at Birdie as he continued towards the elevators. The guard pressed the down button, guiding Sam and Birdie inside once the doors parted. He let go of them and then turned around, pressing the lobby button. Birdie heavily sighed, turning her head towards Sam.

Neither of them were sure how to get out of the situation.

The elevator started to head down, an unsettling silence lingering over them as the floor numbers started to decrease on the screen above the floor numbers. The current-weather screen inside the elevator turned to static after a few moments, capturing their attention. Birdie let out a shaky breath, her eyes widening when she saw her breath was visible.

Birdie and Sam quickly looked at each other, but before either of them could say anything, the elevator abruptly shook. Birdie let out a surprised shriek, staggering into Sam. He wrapped a protective arm around her waist, one of her hands gripping at the back of his shirt while the other was pressed against his chest to keep herself steady. It stopped a few seconds later and the guard lunged forward, vigorously pressing on the buttons in an attempt to make the doors open, but nothing happened. He pulled out his emergency key and turned it in one of the locks, causing the doors to finally open. They were stuck between two floors, allowing them a glimpse of the floor that faced a long hallway of doors that led into separate offices. However, there was no one else in sight.

Birdie sheepishly smiled at Sam, taking a few steps away from him as his arm dropped from her waist.

"Well, come on," the guard said, not bothering to look back at Sam and Birdie.

Birdie blinked, raising a brow. Surely the guard didn't expect them to climb out of the elevator when it was stuck in that position.

"What?" Sam asked, clearly having the same thought as Birdie.

"Last time this happened, it took them two hours to get here."

"Let's just wait," Sam suggested.

The guard made a face, beginning to climb out. Birdie winced as she watched, partially expecting something terrible to happen before the guard could get all the way out. He nearly kicked Sam in the face with his legs as he wiggled further onto the floor, but Birdie nudged Sam back just in time for him to miss getting kicked. The guard turned around once he was fully out of the elevator, facing the two again.

Sam breathed out a forced laugh. "Seriously, we'll wait."

The guard leaned back into the elevator, holding his hand out with an angry expression. "Look, I don't have the rest of my life," he snapped.

The elevator jerked downward abruptly, swiftly decapitating the guard. Blood splattered onto Sam and Birdie, decorating their shocked faces in dark red.

"Hey. You okay?" Dean asked over the phone.

Birdie slowly blinked, feeling the guard's blood trickle down her face.

"Sam? Birdie?" Isla asked next.

Sam fumbled for his phone, his heart racing in his chest as he let out shaky breaths. He slowly held up his phone, his and Birdie's eyes glued to the blood stained door in front of them.

"We-we'll call you back," he weakly replied, cautiously pressing the IT floor button.

Birdie nervously gulped, not even noticing that the elevator had continued to go down. It dinged, the doors parting without a hitch to give them a view of the empty IT hallway. She blinked a couple of times, letting out a heavy breath as she turned her head towards Sam. Sam lowered his hand and stuffed his phone back in his pocket, turning to look at Birdie.

"I, uh. . ." Birdie stammered, closing her eyes as she felt more blood run down the side of her face. "Is there-is there somewhere we could, uh━━━"

"Yeah, uh. . .the-the breakroom," Sam nodded, starting to walk out of the elevator. Birdie glanced at the doors, skeptically eying them. Sam let out a forced laugh, a small twinkle in his eyes as he held his hand out to Birdie. "I'll━━━"

Birdie quickly slipped her hand into Sam's and rushed out of the elevator, nearly knocking Sam down as she did so. Her wide eyes bored straight into Sam's, seeing him look at her with a stunned expression. "Don't you remember what just happened to the last person who had only part of their body sticking inside the elevator?" Birdie asked.

Sam's expression faltered, gaze darting back to the elevator as the doors finally shut. He didn't even think about it. All he saw was the fearful expression on Birdie's face and wanted to help her, to make sure she was okay━━━that she knew she was safe with him around.

It felt natural to him.

"Uh, this way," Sam finally said after a few moments, nudging his head in the direction of the breakroom. Birdie silently nodded, following along as her hand remained slipped into Sam's; neither of them seemed to notice as they quickly walked past the rows of cubicles.

They entered the breakroom and Sam moved towards the cabinets, but he stopped when he felt something warm in his hand. Both he and Birdie glanced down, finally noticing their hands were still entwined. Birdie nervously laughed, letting go of his hand. "Sorry," she softly apologized.

"It's okay," Sam said, shrugging. He opened up one of the top cabinets, pulling out some cloths that they could use to wipe off the blood, or as much as they could. He held them under the sink for a few seconds, handing one to Birdie as she walked over.

"Thanks," she murmured. She began to wipe at her face, a slight grimace on her features as the blood soaked into the cloth. She adjusted the cloth in her hand, hoping she was getting most of the blood off.

"Bet you didn't think you'd ever be spending a Thursday night like this," Sam said.

Birdie turned her head, a small smile spreading across her lips. "Never," she laughed. "Most of my nights are actually spent binge watching TV and drawing."

"You draw?" Sam asked.

Birdie nodded. "Yeah. I'm not Picasso or anything, but. . .I think I'm fairly decent."

Sam furrowed his brows together, getting this vague feeling of déjà vu. He could see Birdie in his mind, drawing what he thought might've been a vintage car. He must've been thinking about it longer than he thought because he suddenly felt Birdie gently shaking his shoulder, a concerned expression on her face. "Hey, you okay?" she asked.

Sam quickly nodded, going back to wiping up the blood on himself. "Yeah, sorry. . ."

"You sure?"

Sam nodded again, doing a double take as he noticed some blood still splotched along Birdie's jaw. "Uh, you still. . .may I?" Sam asked, gesturing towards the cloth in her hand.

Birdie glanced down, suddenly realizing what he meant. "Oh, uh, yeah," she said. "Thank you."

Sam softly smiled, carefully wiping the remaining blood from Birdie's face. She appreciated how gentle he was being, not wanting to hurt her in the slightest. Sam got the same feeling of familiarity again, but this time he could see it clearly━━━him cleaning some blood off of Birdie. But, in the "vision", they seemed to be in a small motel room, a few tiny wounds on Birdie's face while Sam cleaned up the blood and she told him a story that involved a woman named Kaiya.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Birdie asked, raising a brow.

Sam chuckled, nodding his head as he wiped the last of the blood. "Yeah, I just. . .this doesn't feel. . .familiar to you?"

"This?" Birdie asked. Sam nodded. Birdie quietly sighed, taking the cloth Sam had been using on himself. He started to shake his head, but Birdie gave him a pointed look. He reluctantly sighed, standing still so Birdie could clean him up as well. "I will say it does feel. . .normal to be around you, and Dean and Isla, but fighting monsters. . .I don't know about that."

"Really?"

Birdie dabbed at his neck, getting the last of the blood off of him since he'd gotten most of it already. "Sorry, Sammy, I just don't see it." Sam breathed out a scoff at that, catching Birdie's eye. All she did was smirk, lowering her hand. "All done."

"Alright. Let's go find Dean and Isla."

Birdie nodded in agreement and they left the breakroom, stopping by a random desk. Sam took the cloth in Birdie's hand and tossed them both into a trash can, moving some of the papers inside it to cover up the bloodied cloths so they wouldn't be as obvious.

"You don't think that person will notice that's in there, right?" Birdie asked.

"No," Sam said, snickering at the mere thought; no one in IT would be paying that much attention to their trash.

Birdie hummed and nodded, following Sam. She could see another hall at the opposite end of the elevators, a door at the very end with a sign beside it: STAIRS.

Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket, holding it out to his side so he and Birdie could hear it. "Dean, Isla, you there?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, hey. Listen, I think we got it," Dean said. "Meet us on twenty-two."

"Okay, yeah. Just, uh. . .take the stairs."

"Why?" Isla wondered in confusion.

"Just trust us," Birdie quickly said, sharing a look with Sam.

"Okay," Dean said.

That was the end of that and Sam and Birdie slipped inside the stairwell, quickly making their way up the stairs until they reached the 22nd floor. It was more tiring than using the elevators, but Birdie didn't think anything would ever convince her to use the stairs ever again after what she witnessed.

Sam poked his head out of the door once they reached the floor, making sure no other security guards were nearby. Then he stepped out and held the door open, allowing Birdie to slip out behind him. They headed in the direction of Dean's office and went around a couple more corners, finding Dean and Isla standing in front of a history display of the company. The duffle bags were on the ground in front of them, unzipped with the guns and iron fireplace pokers sticking out so they could quickly grab them if needed.

Dean and Isla turned their heads when they saw movement out of the corner of their eyes, immediately noticing the blood splattered on Sam and Birdie's clothing.

"Whoa," Dean breathed out, sharing a concerned glance with Isla. "That's a lot of blood."

"Yeah, we know," Sam said.

Isla deeply frowned, looking between Sam and Birdie. "Are you two all right?"

Birdie nodded, clearing her throat. "Yeah, it's. . .it's not ours. . .the guard who caught us. . .the elevator kinda. . ." Birdie gestured to her neck, tilting her head as she did so to indicate what happened.

Dean and Isla's eyes noticeably widened. "Is that why you said━━━"

Sam nodded, already knowing what Isla was going to ask before she could even finish her question.

Dean let out a shaky breath, turning on his heel.

They needed to stop Sandover before anyone else died.

"So, uh, in there," Dean said, pointing to a glass case containing a pair of gloves. The others came up beside him, their gazes scanning over the tattered gloves.

"P. T. Sandover's gloves," Sam said, skimming through the golden plaque next to the case.

"Yeah, how much you guys wanna bet there's a little smidge of DNA in there?" Dean wondered. "You know, like a fingernail clipping or a hair or two? Something."

"So, you guys ready?"

Dean took a moment, shaking his head as he replied, "I have no idea."

"Me neither."

"It's now or never," Birdie sighed.

Sam and Dean bent down, each of them taking out the iron pokers. Isla grabbed one of the containers of salt while Birdie picked up the shotgun, making sure that it was loaded.

Sam sighed, looking at Dean who stood closest to the gloves. "Go for it," he said.

"Right," Dean breathed out. He adjusted his grip on the poker, smashing the glass into tiny pieces so they could reach the gloves.

Sam stood beside Dean, letting out a breath when he realized it was suddenly visible again. He turned his head, spotting P.T. Sandover behind Dean just as Birdie and Isla did.

"Dean!" Isla shouted, but it was too late.

Sandover grabbed hold of Dean, flinging him into the nearby wall. He lunged forward and pushed Sam, their pokers clattering from their hands. Sandover moved towards Isla, but Birdie quickly fired her gun.

Sandover disappeared and Isla and Birdie smiled at one another. But, Sandover reappeared right in front of Birdie a few seconds later, causing her smile to immediately falter. "Oh, shit," Birdie murmured. He harshly shoved her backwards, causing her to drop her gun as she smacked against the ground. Sandover flickered behind Isla, giving her a shove, too. Isla hissed as she hit the floor, her eyes widening when she saw Sandover's hand was sparking as he reached out to her. She glanced aside for anything to help, noticing the container of salt was just within her reach. She quickly grabbed it and flung some at Sandover, causing him to dissipate.

"Nice one, Is," Dena proudly smiled as he stood up. Birdie sat up on her elbows, noticing there was now a small cut on Dean's forehead. Her eyes flickered to the side, locking eyes with Sam as he started to stand. But, their smiles were short lived as Sandover flickered behind Dean again.

"Dean," Sam panted. He quickly grabbed a poker and swiftly tossed it to Dean. He easily caught it and turned, swinging it through Sandover who dissipated again.

Sam breathed out a laugh. "Nice catch."

"Right?"

"Where'd he go?" Isla asked.

Sam got up and helped Birdie to her feet. Then he picked up the other poker as Dean helped Isla up. "I don't know, but he'll be back," Dean said.

Right then, Samdover appeared between Sam and Dean.

"Sam!"

"Dean!"

At the girls' shouts, Sam and Dean turned, simultaneously swinging the pokers through Sandover. He appeared behind Dean, who turned around to get him, but then he appeared behind Sam. Birdie raised her gun to fire, but Sandover threw his hand out, sending her sliding across the floor. Isla's eyes widened in horror, watching Sandover then fling Sam and Dean in opposite directions. Dean rolled down the hall, groggily leaning against the wall.

Isla bent down and picked up Birdie's gun, but Sandover appeared in front of her, shoving her to the side. The gun tumbled from her grip, her head smacking against the ground with a harsh thud. Sandover rushed down the hall towards Dean at an inhumanely fast pace, ready to take advantage of the others being down. Dean hissed, eyes clenching shut as a searing pain radiated throughout his head and his back. One of Sandover's hands sparked just like it did earlier, this time reaching out for Dean.

Sam sat up, his eyes falling on the gloves by the shards of glass on the floor. He hastily pushed himself onto his feet and snatched up the gloves. "Isla! The lighter!" Sam shouted, frantically shaking his hand out towards her as Sandover got closer to Dean.

Isla hastily fished the lighter out of her pocket and tossed it to Sam. He flicked it open as fast as he could and lit the gloves on fire. The fire quickly consumed the gloves, burning blue as Sam dropped them to the ground so they didn't burn him. Sandover's body caught flames the same moment, burning into nothing just like the gloves.

Sam stepped forward, panting as he looked down the hall at Dean to make sure he was okay. "That was amazing," Dean breathed out.

"Right?" Sam nodded in agreement. "Right?"

Birdie got up along with Isla, her gaze lingering on the gloves for a few seconds longer. Then she looked over, watching Dean come up beside Isla and slip his arm around her waist. They all glanced at one another, suddenly beginning to laugh in complete disbelief.

They actually stopped a ghost.

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

Dean pulled a first-aid kit out of a cabinet in his office, turning to face the others. "Man, I gotta tell you guys, I've never had so much fun in my life," he confessed. It was just a few minutes after they stopped P.T. Sandover and they decided to get cleaned up in Dean's office. They cleaned up the area as best as they could to make sure they couldn't be connected to what happened there that night, and hopefully it was enough. Thankfully none of them were too injured, just a few minor cuts and bruises that would be cleared up in a few days at the most.

Sam was seated on the edge of Dean's desk, facing the door. Isla and Birdie were in the chairs in front of the desk, Birdie partially twisted in the seat so her legs hung over one of the arm rests.

"Me neither," Sam said.

"It was. . .different," Isla said, her smile growing wider as she looked at each of them. "But a good different."

"It was," Birdie agreed.

"Was a hell of a workout too, wasn't it?" Dean said, sitting next to Sam as he opened the first aid kit. He sat it in front of him, going through it to find some gauze pads.

"We should keep doing this," Sam said, glancing around at the others.

Dean laughed. "I know." He sat up, grabbing some gauze pads. He handed one to Sam, offering some out to Isla and Birdie. Birdie politely shook her head, not needing one, or at least she didn't think she did. Isla graciously took one, pressing it against the palm of her hand that had gotten cut from the shards of glass on the ground.

"I mean it," Sam said, watching Dean dab at his forehead with one of the gauze pads. He stole a look towards Birdie, noticing her raised brow. "There's gotta be other ghosts out there. We could help a lot of people."

"Yeah, right. We'd be like the Ghostfacers," Dean said with amusement.

"I think we would be even better," Isla grinned.

Sam faintly shook his head. "No, really. I mean. . for real."

"What?" Dean laughed. "Like, quit our jobs and hit the road?"

"Exactly."

"How would we live?"

"Uh. . ."

"Come on. You gotta be kidding me," Dean said. "How would we get by━━━with stolen credit cards? Huh? Eatin' diner food drenched in saturated fats? Sharing a shit motel room every night?"

Birdie nonchalantly shrugged. "The food part doesn't sound so bad to me."

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

"Details are everything," Dean firmly replied. "You don't wanna go fightin' ghosts without any health insurance."

Sam licked his lips as he shifted, a tense silence washing over the four. Isla glanced at Dean, their eyes silently speaking with another. Birdie noticed, but she chose not to question it. Her eyes flickered back to Sam and he cleared his throat. "All right. Um. . .confession."

"What?" Dean asked, brows furrowed together. Birdie shifted in the chair, folding her arms over her chest as she looked at Sam.

"Remember those dreams I told you guys about, with the ghosts?" Sam asked, glancing between Dean and Birdie.

They nodded in unison. "Yeah?"

"I was fighting 'em."

"Okay. . ."

"With you━━━both of you. We were. . .these, like. . .hunters, and we were friends," Sam said, letting out a sigh. He knew how it must've sounded to hear your co-worker━━━who you just stopped a ghost with after only meeting two days ago━━━say that they'd been dreaming about you, but it needed to be said. "Me and you were like brothers, really. We . . ." he sighed, briefly looking at Birdie, "We were close, but I don't know what we were exactly, but I mean, what if that's who we really are? And Isla. . .you were actually in a few of them, too."

"I was?"

"She was?"

Isla softly sighed, giving Dean a look when he shot Sam a glare. They'd never met each other before that day, and yet she'd been in his dream. What could that mean?

"I mean, you all saw us back there, working together," Sam continued, desperation looming in his eyes. "T-The ghost was scrambling people's brains. What if it scrambled ours?"

Amusement appeared on Dean's face and he stood up, walking around his desk. Birdie turned and placed her feet on the ground, leaning her back against the backrest. She turned her head, momentarily catching Isla's eyes. "That's insane," Dean said.

"Is it? Think about it for just one second. What if we think this is our life. . .but it's not?"

Dean sat down on the table behind his desk, holding his hands out. "Hey, man, the ghost is dead and we're still standing. I mean, I'm sorry, but━━━"

"Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be," Sam firmly said, standing up.

"No. I'm Dean Smith, okay?" Dean replied. "Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob and my mother's name is Ellen. My girlfriend is Isla Carters, kindergarten teacher who went to Columbia University and graduated top of her class. Her mother's name is Margaret, her father's name is Robert, and her little sister's name is Iris━━━"

"Dean━━━"

"When was the last time you talked to them? To any of 'em?" Sam asked, a hard expression on his features as he looked from Dean and over to Isla. Then he turned to Birdie, her confused expressions matching Dean and Isla's. "Bird, when was the last time you talked to your family?"

Dean stood up, having had enough of Sam's insistence that they weren't who they thought they were. "Okay, you're upset. You're upset, you're confused━━━"

"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."

"Sam. . .what are you trying to say?" Birdie questioned.

"Are y-you trying to say that-that our families aren't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories?" Dean interjected. "Come on!"

"All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. And I know━━━I know that deep down, you all gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else," Sam said. "You're not just some corporate douchebag. This isn't you. I know you."

"Sam, I'm sorry, but━━━"

"Come on," Sam interrupted Isla, hopelessly facing Birdie. She'd believed him this far. Surely she would believe him now. "Birdie?"

Birdie shrugged her shoulders, stammering to answer as all eyes focused on her. "I don't. . .I don't know, Sam."

Dean walked forward, facing Sam. "Know me? You don't know me, pal. You don't know any of us," Dean said, shaking his head. "You should go."

"Birdie, please."

Birdie stood up, letting out a quiet sigh. "Sam I. . . I wanna believe you, I really do, but. . .this is just too much for me. I'm sorry."

"Birdie━━━"

"I gotta go," she said, walking around the chair. She quickly picked up her duffel bag, offering them all a sad smile. "I'm sorry. I did enjoy tonight, though."

Sam breathed out a sigh, watching Birdie walk out of the door.

Well, so much for that.

Despite her efforts to try and forget what Sam said, Birdie couldn't. She knew who her family was, and she knew that she could get a hold of them whenever she needed. Her mother was a lovely woman named Serena who was nothing but loving and supportive for all of Birdie's life up until the day she died. Her father, Reese, was even more loving and supportive (if that was even possible) and was always there for Birdie no matter what. She had him wrapped her little finger the moment she was born and Reese didn't mind one single bit. Growing up as an only child she was sometimes lonely, but her parents always made sure she knew she was loved and was there for every school, sport, and every event in between. She thought about them her entire drive to work, but when she arrived, they faded away as all she could hear was her co-workers talking about an apparent break in the night before and how a guard died in one of the elevators.

She tried to block it all out, but it wasn't until she reached her desk that her mind finally quieted down just a little bit. Her eyes fell on a small picture frame of her and her father from a few years ago by the corner of her computer, causing her to twist her lips in thought.

She picked up her phone and held it up to her ear, listening to it ring until it was finally answered. She immediately smiled, relief flooding her as the call had gone through. "Oh, hey━━━"

"King County Sheriff's department." Birdie's expression faltered, pulling the phone away from her ear. On the screen it read Dad. "Hello?"

Birdie quickly hung up, her brows knitted together in confusion. Maybe she accidentally changed his number somehow. She clicked on his contact info to check his number, frowning. It was the same number it'd been for as long as she could remember.

She clicked on the number again, sighing as she got the same person. She hung up again, shaking her head in though. She set her phone down beside her keyboard, eyes scanning her blank computer screen. She leaned back in her chair and clicked on the internet explorer icon and quickly typed in her fathers name. She knew for a fact that he should pop up within the first few spots along with the school he taught at, but there was nothing. The school did pop up, but when she clicked on the site and searched through their staff, she didn't see her father's name anywhere. Instead it said someone else taught art━━━a 60 year old woman.

Birdie shook her head in disbelief, standing up from her chair as realization dawned on her.

Sam was right.

Sam. . .was right.

"Morning, Ms. Dixon. Is Mr. Smith in today?" Birdie lifted her head, looking straight into the eyes of Lynn Grimes. Birdie remained silent for a few seconds, her mind still trying to wrap around the fact that Sam was right. "Ms. Dixon, did you hear me?"

"Uh, yeah, I heard you," Birdie finally said, faintly nodding her head when she realized Lynn was standing in front of her and had been trying to talk to her. "He is in but━━━"

"Great, I'll walk myself━━━"

"He's busy, Ms. Grimes," Birdie interrupted, giving the woman a stern look━━━a stern she always gave Lynn whenever she tried to slip past Birdie so she could bother Dean. "If you have a message, I will happily take it━━━"

"No, I need to speak to him directly," Lynn firmly said, placing her manicured hands on her hips.

"It's not gonna happen," Birdie said, unable to hide her irritation that was only increasing the longer the woman glared straight into Birdie. "He's busy right now."

"I don't have time for this nonsense, Birdie."

When Lynn moved to walk past Birdie's desk, Birdie stepped to the side, blocking the woman's path. Lynn raised her brows, a dark look looming in her green eyes. "I said no."

"I don't care━━━"

"No!" Birdie shouted, her eyes widening a few seconds later once she realized she actually shouted at the woman. Lynn took a small step back, tilting her head as she scoffed out a forced laugh. "Lynn, I'm━━━"

"You know, I've been nothing but nice to you, and for you treat━━━"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Lynn," Birdie harshly interjected, "Stop fucking lying to yourself. The only goddamn reason you wanna talk to Dean is because you think he's attractive, and you'll come up with any excuse to bother him━━━which you should know better considering you're fucking HR and━━━"

"Excuse me━━━"

"Woah, ladies, ladies," a voice interrupted. Mr. Adler appeared, brows furrowed with confusion. Dean stepped out of his office as well, his headset in his hand like he'd ended a call to step out and find out what was going on. "What seems to be the issue here?"

"Ms. Dixon is refusing to acknowledge my━━━"

"Bull fucking shit," Birdie angrily snapped, no longer bothering to hold back. "Dean is in a relationship that thankfully doesn't involve you. Why can't you get that through that thick fuckin' head of yours?"

"Why you little━━━"

Lynn swung a fist at Birdie, but Birdie swiftly dodged it with her hand and punched Lynn straight in the face. The woman shrieked, tumbling backwards. Mr. Adler let out a surprised gasp, rushing forward to help Lynn sit up. Dean rushed down the hall, his eyes tripled in size as he looked at Birdie. "Birdie!"

"Mr. Smith, you are the best boss I've ever had," Birdie said, reaching up to undo her tie along with the first few buttons of her blouse. Then she shrugged off her blazer, laying it over her arm along with the tie. "But I fucking quit."

"Ms. Dixon━━━"

"Birdie━━━"

Birdie picked up her purse and stepped right over a simmering Lynn, not sparing the wretched woman a second glance as she made her way towards the elevators. But, suddenly she stopped as realization dawned on her. She stole a glimpse at Dean over her shoulder, offering him a small smile as she nudged her head towards the stairs. "I'll see you around, Dean."

Mr. Adler shouted at her to get back as a few other co-workers came into view to see what was going on, but Birdie simply ignored them all. She felt like the weight of the world was lifted off her shoulder as she rushed down the stairs, reaching up to undo her bun so her blonde locks swept down her back. A small smile graced her lips, a wave of ease washing over her.

She no longer would have to answer dozens of phone calls, send emails to people whose questions would be answered if they just checked their earlier emails, deal with Lynn, or be stuck at a desk for eight hours for five days a week.

She was free.

She stepped out of the stairwell when she finally made it to the correct floor, quickly making her way down the halls. She could hear the sound of printers and fax machines whirring with life, pencil sharpeners grinding at full speed, phones constantly ringing━━━things she would no longer have to hear after she left Sandover. Her eyes scanned over the many cubicles that filled the room, looking for a familiar dark set of hair that belonged to none other than Sam Wesson. None of the employees seemed to pay any attention to her, but then her eyes fell on someone as they rose from their desk.

It was Sam.

She began to grin, but it faltered as he lifted up one of the iron pokers from last night and started to smash something on his desk. Others jumped in surprise, standing up with stunned expressions as they sharply turned their attention on Sam. Birdie gaped, watching him do it over and over again until he huffed, carelessly dropping the poker to the ground. He glanced around at his fellow co-workers, panting. "I fucking quit."

He turned, his eyes finally spotting Birdie amongst the stunned onlookers. Birdie took a few steps forward, her smile beginning to appear on her lips again. Sam ignored the stares that followed him as he made his way towards Birdie, furrowing his brows together. "What-what're you doing here?" he quietly asked.

"I quit, too," Birdie said, peering up at Sam. "And I decked Lynn Grimes."

"You hit Lynn?" a woman standing off to the side near the breakroom gaped in horror.

Birdie just smirked at the woman, turning her attention back to Sam. "What do you say we get out of here?"

"Over there!" Sam and Birdie turned their heads, seeing two security guards standing at the opposite end. Another IT member was pointing in their direction━━━most likely directed at Sam after he publicly destroyed company property.

"Yeah, let's go."

Birdie giggled and slipped her hand into Sam's without a second thought, the two of them running towards the stairs in the opposite direction. "What made you change your mind?" Sam asked, opening the door. Birdie hurried forward and grabbed Sam's hand, tugging him down the stairs.

"You did," Birdie answered, her smile still prominent on her lips. "I tried calling my dad. . .and I got a Sheriff's Department."

"What? Really?"

"Yeah. You were right, Sam," Birdie said, sparing him a glance as they headed down the last set of stairs. They slipped out onto the main floor, hands still entwined. When they spotted a security guard coming down the hall with his face scrunched together in anger, they took off running again, not stopping until they reached the parking garage. They ducked around a large truck, panting as they stood right in front of each other.

Sam licked at his lips, peering down at Birdie with a shimmer in his hazel eyes. "Now what?"

Birdie's eyes briefly flickered to Sam's lips, looking back up again to see he'd caught her. The corner of his lip curled upwards, starting to lean down. Birdie took a step closer, her eyes fluttering shut as Sam's lips started to brush against hers━━━

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

Hello everyone!! Finally here's a new chapter after updating Birdie's face claim and being able to focus on writing again!!! <3

I freaking loved writing this chapter!! It doesn't add like anything to this story, but idc lmao. And I also got to include Isla again (who may or may not be show up later on hehe)!! And also thank you Amara once again for helping write some of this <3

I'm not sure if everyone knows Ian's last name is johnston (on the fandom site), but I changed it so it would show up closer to Sam's last name so Birdie could accidentally call Sam hehe!

I also wanted to mention that I kinda didn't think about with the guard getting decapitated that his head would've still been in the elevator,,,, but we can just pretend it wasn't mentioned because Sam and Birdie purposely ignored looking at it or something 🤣

But anyways, please don't forget to leave your feedback in the comments and I hope y'all enjoyed!