Suddenly, the entire room lit up, as if it was on fire. But it wasn't. No, it actually had a couple of light bulbs in this dusty room, and someone had actually turned them on, but when Sam turned to face the doorway where the switch must be, the door was still closed, and there was no one there. Surely there must be someone there; perhaps his eyes just weren't used to the bright lights yet. Or maybe someone was just playing tricks on him and had the lights turn on by remote. But upon gazing at the switch, he saw it hadn't been flipped.

He still held onto the cup of water, barely touching his lips to it, even though he was thirsty. Sam had a plan, and for it to work, needed the water in the cup. That was, if she ever came into the room.

What was going on here? Sammy pulled his knees closer to himself and rested his chin on them as he looked out his cell door. It had taken a while, but he finally figured out that he was the only live one in the whole room. There was another man in the cell across from him, but from what Sam could tell, he hadn't been alive for a while. He looked peaceful, though, just leaning against the bars with his eyes shut. His thin frame was obviously fairly tall, like Sam, but it was so empty. Did he starve to death perhaps?

Sam didn't even want to consider that thought, the thought of dying like that. No, that wouldn't happen to him because Dean was out there still, he was sure of it now. There weren't any corpses he could see that looked anything like his older brother; on the contrary, most of them were tall and thin, like Sam. Did this spirit have an M.O.?

Dean and Liz were hovering over the open trunk, wondering what to take with them on the hunt for Sam. Liz had been scouring the immediate area with a shotgun, but found nothing. Dean had even taken out his EMF meter, but it was just constantly going crazy, as if the whole clearing was blanketed with an electromagnetic field. But was that even possible?

"You know, water and electricity don't go well together," Liz innocently suggested when her hand had brushed up against a bottle of holy water. It wasn't a bad idea, but maybe not the best one either. Surely the brothers would've tried that by now.

Her friend just shrugged, though, loading another 'salt bullet' into his sawed-off shotgun that matched his brothers, "You mean like hairdryer in the bathtub?"

She nodded in agreement, a small smile appearing on her face at his comparison, "Yeah, exactly like that."

Dean just shrugged and handed her a bottle of holy water and another bottle of regular water, "Whatever will work."

Liz took the water from him and put them in the bag she was holding before walking away from the car and staring into the clearing, wondering which way to go. If they just had to guess until they found the right spot, that might take a while, because the clearing seemed rather large, or maybe it was just her, and she was just nervous about being out on another hunting trip.

Dean, however, seemed to know exactly where to go, to the same spot he had last seen his brother. That made the most sense, she supposed, and followed suit.

Sam was still pondering the lights when the temperature changed again and he had to stretch out because being curled up is supposed to keep one warm, not cool. The heat in the room was almost unbearable, and his sore arm was aching now along with his splitting head. Why had they just hit him over the head? Why not just kill him right then and there? What was the purpose of this place? None of it made any sense.

Her friends were obviously helping, but where they all ghosts? That seemed to make the most logical sense, but because Sammy hadn't really gotten a good look at any of them, he didn't know for sure. Maybe they were living relatives of the girl, but she had died so long ago. Nothing made sense.

He clutched the cup in his hands, tempted to suddenly take another drink, but resisting the urge in the dim hope that the girl would come in and he could put his theory to good use.