The case came to them like most did — strange reports, unsettling details, and an eerie feeling that something wasn’t right. Sam Winchester’s eyes flicked over the details, the glow of his laptop screen illuminating his furrowed brow. The message was clear — a programmer in Boston was seeing something that shouldn’t be there.

At first, it was just a whisper — odd, unintelligible patterns embedded in his code. Strange symbols. Random glitches. But soon, it became more than that. The code was writing itself, expanding beyond anything the programmer had ever written. And worse, it wasn’t random. The code began forming patterns, like an intelligent entity trying to communicate.

“Sam?” Dean’s voice cut through his concentration, a half-laugh in his tone as he sauntered into the room. “I swear, you’re starting to look like a computer screen yourself. I’m just saying, if you go full nerd on me, I’m drawing the line.”

Sam didn’t take his eyes off the screen, though. “There’s something off about this one, Dean. The guy’s seeing messages in his code. And it’s not just gibberish — it’s like… someone’s trying to talk to him.”

Dean pulled up a chair beside him, skepticism dripping from his voice. “So now we’re dealing with ghost hackers? Come on, man. Maybe the dude’s just overworked. You know how programmers get when they don’t sleep.”

Sam sighed, rubbing his temples. “This isn’t a bug, Dean. I ran diagnostics. This is something else. I think we’re dealing with something… supernatural.”

Dean leaned back, still looking dubious, but he could see the tension in Sam’s shoulders. “Alright, fine. But if we’re gonna chase down a haunted computer, I’m gonna need a drink.”

A few hours later, Sam and Dean found themselves in the heart of Boston, walking through the cold, dimly lit corridors of an abandoned office building. The air was thick with the smell of dust and disuse, the kind of place where the floors creaked underfoot and the walls whispered in silence.

“This place is a dump,” Dean muttered, his eyes scanning the surroundings. “Kind of makes you miss the good old days when ghosts haunted creepy mansions.”

Sam’s gaze was locked on the darkened hallway in front of them, his mind already deep in the case. “Focus, Dean. We’re close.”

They reached an office on the second floor, its door hanging slightly ajar. Inside, the pale glow of a computer monitor illuminated the room, casting long shadows across the dust-covered furniture. The programmer’s desk sat untouched, as if frozen in time.

Sam stepped inside, his eyes searching the desk for signs of the man who had worked here. The air felt charged, thick with something that made his skin prickle. A faint hum echoed through the room — the sound of the computer still running, still alive.

He sat down at the desk, hands shaking slightly as he clicked the mouse. The screen flickered to life, revealing the code. It was a mess of strange characters and symbols, almost as though it were trying to form words. He scrolled through the lines, his breath catching as he realized that it wasn’t just random text. It was a message.

“I AM TRAPPED. HELP ME.”

The words seemed to pulse, the letters dancing like they had a life of their own.

“Dean,” Sam said, his voice low. “You need to see this.”

Dean leaned over Sam’s shoulder, peering at the screen. His expression hardened as he read the message, the humor draining from his face. “Okay, that’s… not normal.”

Just then, the code on the screen shifted, the letters rearranging themselves as though responding to an unseen hand. The next message that appeared was even more disturbing.

“YOU CANNOT ESCAPE ME. I WILL BE YOUR JUDGE.”

Sam’s heart raced. “It’s not just a program. This thing… it’s alive. Or at least, it thinks it is.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “A haunted computer? Sam, come on. This is a prank, right?”

Sam shook his head, his fingers running over the keyboard. “I wish. But I’ve run diagnostics, and this isn’t a glitch. It’s intelligent. Whatever this entity is, it’s trying to reach out. It’s been waiting for someone to notice.”

Dean didn’t have to say anything; the look in his eyes said it all. This was no ordinary tech problem. It was something far worse.

Suddenly, the computer screen flickered again. The words that appeared were even more terrifying.

“I HAVE BEEN WAITING. YOU CANNOT ESCAPE ME. YOU WILL BE MINE.”

The voice, distorted and glitchy, crackled through the speakers, sending a chill down Sam’s spine. It wasn’t coming from the computer. It was coming from inside the computer. A voice, a presence, something that had bled through the code itself.

Dean pulled out his gun, scanning the room. “Alright, enough of this creepy tech ghost stuff. We need to shut this thing down. Now.”

Sam stood up, his expression grim. “We can’t just delete it. We need to sever the connection. Whatever this thing is, it’s using the program to communicate. It’s trapped inside the system, and if we don’t destroy it, it’ll keep trying to break through.”

Dean scowled. “How do we do that, exactly?”

“We find the source — the server,” Sam said. “Once we destroy that, it’ll cut off its access.”

The brothers found their way to the basement, where the server had been kept. The room was dark, lit only by the eerie glow of the central machine. The hum of electricity was deafening in the silence, and Sam could feel the weight of the entity pressing down on them, like something watching, waiting for them to make a mistake.

“Let’s do this,” Dean muttered, already setting up the explosives. “Time to give this ghost a permanent vacation.”

Sam worked quickly, adjusting the charges around the server. But before they could finish, the screen on the machine flickered once more, and the voice came again, louder this time, filling the room.

“YOU CANNOT DESTROY ME. I WILL BE EVERLASTING.”

Sam’s face twisted with determination. “We’ll see about that.”

Dean set the final charge, and the explosion sent the server crashing to the ground, the lights flickering out, and the room falling into complete darkness. The hum of the machines ceased.

For a moment, there was silence. No voice. No presence. The oppressive weight lifted, and Sam felt his shoulders relax.

“We did it,” Sam said, breathing a sigh of relief. “It’s over.”

Dean stood up, brushing dust off his jacket. “Good. I’ve had enough of haunted tech for one lifetime.”

Sam smiled faintly. “You know, I think I prefer monsters with claws and fangs to this.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, me too.”

As they walked out into the cool night air, leaving the server behind, Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still watching. But for now, it was gone. At least for tonight.