Dean stood at the door, his head pressed almost painfully against the wood as he steadied his breathing.  Taking a deep breath through his nose, he furrowed his brow as a familiar smell washed over him.  His eyes shot open and he whipped around, turning toward the area he assumed the smell was coming from, due to its intensity.  

“Mika?”, he asked in a whisper, looking around the room with wide eyes.  Sure, he still had things of hers.  And they smelled like her.  But, this didn’t feel like a thing.  It felt like she was standing in the room with him…like a ghost.

“If you’re um…if you’re here, I really need you, right now.  I don’t know how you would be here.  I mean…I watched you burn.  I know you’re gone.”, his voice broke with his words, but he took a deep breath, opening his mouth to take in air in what seemed more like a gasp, “But I can’t do this.  I can’t do this alone.  Please…”

He turned a complete circle, feeling like a total idiot.  Obviously she wasn’t in the room with him.  Obviously she wouldn’t be able to haunt the bunker.  The place was warded against everything the Men of Letters had ever fought against, ghosts being one of those things.  Reminding himself of that fact, he stepped over to his bed and sat down at the foot, placing his head in his hands as the pain moved from his stomach to wash over his body, “What the hell is going on?”

Dean glanced over at his tv stand, which sat close to the end of his bed, and he reached out, grabbing an almost empty whiskey bottle.  Giving it a moment’s thought, he unscrewed the cap and polished off the bottle as tears streamed down his face, his eyes still staring at the corner he had suspected Mika was haunting.