Rule #6: Always watch your six.

"Bingo."

"What?" I ask, raising my head from Sam's lap.

"Dude. Didn't you listen? We need a case. This is the fourth day without one and if I have to watch another episode of Game of Thrones, I'm gonna go insane." Dean's comment makes me giggle while Sam raises an eyebrow.

"You were the one suggesting this, Dean. But fine, what's the catch?"

The older Winchester mockingly gasps, holding a hand over his heart. "Why do you always assume there's a catch? No catch. It's a potential case. A guy, Mark Delaney, showed up to work and went all King Aerys II Targaryen on his coworkers."

"So a poltergeist, then," Sam wonders out loud.

"Possibly. And get this—see what I did there, Sammy?—he claims he didn't do it. The guy has no memory of killing or even showing up to work."

"What are we waiting for then, ladies? Let's go to," I read his computer, "Greenwood, Mississippi."

***
The crime scene is pretty much deserted, the packing garage of the lumber company completely shut down.

"Okay. So. No sulphur smell. EMF?" I ask.

Dean turns it on, the annoying little sound going crazy.

"Ghost."

A young man in an officer's suit walks in the factory with a cup of coffee, immediately dropping it as he sees us. He tries to reach for his gun, but fails miserably. Poor rookie.

"Chill, man," Dean says raising his arms in surrender. "We're Feds. Out here to take a look at this case. Y'know. See if you missed anything."

"Whew. Okay." Poor rookie.

"We were just leaving. Could you tell us where the police station is?" I ask, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Main Street. You'll recognize it once you get there. I'll call in to know you're coming," he responds.

We arrive at the police station, ready to show off our badges and suits.

"Rock, paper, scissors. Losers go to morgue and winner goes to precinct," Sam offers.

"Nah. Flip it. Losers, cops. Winner, corpse," I argue.

"Fine."

"You guys are so childish. Let's do this then. It's gonna be fun beating your asses." Oh, that old, competitive Dean.

"Who's the child now?" We ask in unison.

Dean and Sam go first, Dean losing rock to paper. "Best out of three?" Dean asks, getting an instant no. "That's not fair..." he mumbles.

Sam goes against me losing scissors to rock.

"HA! Enjoy your trip to the precinct, LOSEchesters!" I walk away, swaying my hips, leaving the boys dumbstruck.

3rd POV:

The brothers watch as their old friend walks away, all sassy.

"Let's go, Sammy. Nothin' more to see," Dean declares, clearly not taking his defeat by Emily well.

Sam gives the door a nudge, the 'ting' of a bell going off, marking their entrance.

"I'm Special Agent Padalecki, and this is my partner, Special Agent Ackles," Dean states, showing off his badge to the officer at the front desk.

"Good for you. What are two FBI agents doing in Greenwood?" An older lady asks, not really caring.

"Well, one of the murdered guys was under witness protection from L. A., which makes it a federal matter. We sent our partner down to the morgue already."

"Okay. Wait here. Captain Rogers will be with you as soon as possible."

As the Winchesters sit on a bench Dean whispers, "We should've switched names, Sammy. For some reason, I think Padalecki suits you better."

***
My POV:

"So, Agent..." Joe Camden, the town coroner stands there, puzzled look painted on his face.

"Winchester. Emily Winchester." I reply, holding up my badge. "I came to see the seven bodies brought in today from Ward Technologies."

"You Feds jumped on this case like fish on bait. Our detectives haven't even got a look yet."

"What can I say? We like to get our job done."

"Of course, of course. Follow me, agent," he says. He takes his time explaining, thinking I don't know anything.

"Could you show me the o-" I'm rudely interrupted by a doorbell.

"Oh, wait a second. Let me get the door."

He leaves me alone for a few minutes, returning with Dean and Sam. "Hey."

"You guys are late," I remark coldly, but can't manage not smiling right after. "Okay, come check this out. This, is the body of Mark 'Targaryen'," Dr. Camden gives me a weird glance, but I ignore him. He finishes my intro, restating everything he told me about Delaney.

"So, this is him...or at least most of him. His head is torn to pieces from a shotgun. But the others are worse. Some seem to be chopped up or...one's hand was put in a blender."

"Thank you. Could we look at them a bit more closely? We'll call you when we need help," Dean says, hinting 'get the hell out!' to the doc.

Once he's gone, Sam takes out an EMF detector, which goes absolutely nuts.

"Oh, yes. Ghost possession all right. But why? He seemed like such a nice guy," I wonder.

"Let's go to the library to check it out," Dean declares.

"And then we can talk to Mrs. Delaney or other people who knows him," Sam chimes in.

"Okey dokey. Divide and conquer. I like it," I reply, unconsciously walking into Sam, our shoulders brushing.

Dean raises his eyebrows at me, not exactly caring. Yet still. Something in his eyes...

***

"No. Nein. Nyet. Nah. Nem. Absolutely not. No way José. You do it," I protest. "I swear that lady...she gives me the creeps."

"Dude, she's a librarian. Just go up to her and ask about the archives. Easy as pie," Dean motions to the elderly, yet intimidating woman, who doesn't look a day older than ten thousand.

"Easy as pie? Then, you definitely wouldn't mind asking her. Go on. We'll wait right here."

"I-um-yeah sure. Whatever."

Dean walks up to her and addresses her loud and clear. She spits a 'shhh' in his face before grabbing his ear and pulling him to her desk.

"Who do you think you are, young man? Some hooligan disturbing my peace? Get out of here," she whisper-yelles at him, her denture causing her to cover Dean with saliva.

With a whole new level of battle scars, Dean strolls over here with a facial expression I've never seen before. And I've known him since I was six.

"What's wrong, Dean? Easy as pie, eh?"

"Since when are you Canadian, Emily?"

"Since today," I say with a grin on my face.

"Guys. Not here. Dean, since you've been kicked out by freaky lady, you could maybe go and check on the background of Delaney. We'll stay here and use Emily's charm to work out way into her heart," Sam suggests. I love it when he takes control.

"Fine." Dean walks away, pocketing his second defeat of the day.

"He took that pretty well, didn't he? Although, he could've used his badge..." I comment.

"Yeah, Agent Winchester. Winchester suits you, Em," Sam says, nudging my shoulder.

"Aww. Thanks. You guys are pretty much my family after all." Something tells me Sammy wanted a different answer, but I ignore that. He's like a brother to me.

Let's get through this. We causally walk up to the desk, Sam whispers to her, though making sure it's loud enough.

"Hi. We'd like to check the archives out. Would that be possible?"

"And I'd like to sit on my recliner watching Psych. I bet Shawn and Juliet get together," she replies.

Well damn. This lady is a hard case.

"So, about the archives? May we take a look at it, Dolores?" I read her name tag.

"Yes, of course, child. Ahh. Congratulations," she said.

"Um...what for?" We ask in unison.

"You two are such an adorable couple. Congratulations for your engagement."

I hide my left hand, completely forgetting about that.

"Um we're not..." I reply awkwardly, showing my badge in her face, learning from Dean's mistake.

"Oh, such shame." Whoah! This lady speaks her mind. It's funny how old people are so blunt sometimes. Well, most times. Heh.

My eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling as I am so astonished, my mouth slightly agape.

She leads us to the back of the library and she points to the maze of filing cabinets. "Enjoy your stay." She walks away.

"Well that was something," I mumble. Sam suddenly grabs my hand, raising it up to his face.

"You were engaged?"

"The pressure is now on were, Sam. Let's not talk about it." I slide the ring off of my finger and placing it in my pocket.

"You were engaged?" He presses. "Didn't that ever cross your mind to maybe—I don't know—tell me?"

"No it didn't. Oh yeah, and if we're at this topic again...married? Why the fuck did you tell my—Chris that we're married?! Y'know you could've said something less...I dunno, rough. Like, sorry but your girlfriend is a secret agent who got, like, exposed an-a-and she needs to go? Like...I should really stop saying like-" I jabber, having some sort of mental breakdown.

"I'm sorry," Sam apologizes quietly, giving me the puppy eyes. He hugs me gently as I'm on the verge of pushing him away.

"Maybe you sh-"

"WATCH OUT!" Sam pushes me away as Dolores tries to stab me in the back with a letter opener. I dodged it. Whew. "Always watch your six, man," he smiles, but that smile turns into a cough, blood on his hands.

"Sammy, what's...oh my God. Not fucking again," I cry.