Title: The Phantoms of the Lighthouse
By: KaitlynRose
Pairing: gen
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own them so please don't sue me.
Author's Note: Beaver Head Lighthouse is a real building that has been out of use for some time, but for the purpose of this story I'm going to make it a fully operational place again with keepers. I have never been to Beaver Island, Michigan. I'm sure it is a great and beautiful place, but in this story its going to become "supernaturalized". (Insert evil laughter here)
Summary: An isolated lighthouse in the middle of no where. For sixty years the keepers have disappeared or gone mad. Will they stop it once they get snowed in, or will they end up like the rest?

***

Sam leaned against the railing of the ferry that was taking them and their car across part of Lake Michigan to Beaver Island. The sky over head was a dull gray and the blowing wind whipped his hair about wildly.

The water was choppy and murky looking from the lack of sun light. Seagulls flew over head screeching loudly hoping for passengers on the ferry to toss them some popcorn or a potato chip.

He could go sit in the car, or even inside the ferry's café, but he felt drawn to this spot. He was content to stand there and listen to the gulls and the motor cutting through the water. He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets and was grateful for the warmth of his new parka. It had been cold in New York, but if it got any colder here it would snow.

"Here, thought you might like this." Dean appeared at his side holding two steaming cups of hot chocolate.

"Oh, yes," Sam said taking his cup from Dean.

"Dude, it's freezing out here. Come inside before you catch a cold."

"Maybe in a bit," Sam replied. Dean was still in a bit of mother hen mode even though Sam was healing really well from his last supernatural encounter. "We spend so much time cooped up in the car that it feels good to just stand in the fresh air."

"Yeah, but at least my car has a heater!"

"You can go back in if you want," Sam told him. "I'm not forcing you to stay."

Dean sighed. "Well, on the bright side you won't have to spend too much time in the car for the next couple of weeks. We'll actually be living at the light house while we work there."

"That'll be nice." Sam was actually looking forward to being settle in one spot, evenif it was only for a few weeks.

"It'll be different, that's for sure," Dean said.

"I never realized how big the Great Lakes were. All you see is water. It almost feels like being on the ocean."

The two stood in silence and sipped their cocoa. A few minutes later Beaver Island came into view. Sam noticed the island had a thin layer of fog surrounding it, giving it a mysterious feel.

Rain drops began to fall softly and Sam followed Dean inside to the small café and had a seat in one of the booths. In a matter of minutes the rain was coming down hard.

"Great," Dean complained. "Talk about making a gloomy day even gloomier."

"Just be glad it isn't snow. It's definitely cold enough for snow."

"After this job is over I'll be sure to find us one in Florida."

Sam laughed and actually spit out some of his cocoa. "Sorry."

"We may as well go below and get in the car," Dean suggested. "It shouldn't be too much longer."

"Sure."

The two went back out side in the pouring rain and hurried down the stairs to the floor below, which was sheltered from the rain.

As soon as Dean got in the car he started the engine and turned on the heater. "I have a feeling that by tonight this will be snow." Sam nodded in agreement.

About fifteen minutes later Dean was driving off of the ferry and heading into town. As usual, it wasn't much of a town. It looked to have all of twenty streets in it before it turned into rugged forest.

They went to the Nautical Museum on Willow Road. That was where they were supposed to meet their new employer.

Dean parked in front of the building and they went inside. The building was decorated inside to resemble a ship. The windows were shaped like portholes, steering wheels were mounted to the walls, and numerous pictures of boats and sailing ships were plastered on the walls.

A friendly looking old man approached them. He looked to be no more that five and a half feet tall. He had a weathered face with many wrinkles and a tuft of snow white hair on his head.

"Hello, there. You two must be Sam and Dean Hart." He stuck out a hand towards Sam.

"Yes sir, we are," Sam replied. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Sam."

"My you are a tall fella aren't you?"

"Yes sir," Sam laughed. He was used to people commenting on his height.

"Hello," Dean said and shook the old man's hand.

"My name is George Masters."

"Thank you for giving us this job, Mr. Masters."

"Oh, call me George. Let me find my glasses and I'll drive out to the light house with you two and show you what to do."

"Sir, your glasses are on your head," Dean told him.

"Oh yes. So they are." He pulled his glasses down and then walked over to the door where a long black slicker was hanging. He slipped on his coat and pulled on a pair of goulashes.

"At the lighthouse there will be proper gear for you two. You can't live on this island without rain coats and boots and the like. Winter starts very early this far north."

They all walked outside. George told them to follow him. He climbed into an old Ford pickup and drove off.

Dean actually had a hard time keeping up with the old guy. The roads were wet and slick and they twisted this way and that. Several times he worried about skidding off the road.

"Man, this little old fella sure likes to floor it."

"He's lived here his whole life probably," Sam said. "I'm guessing he could drive these roads blind folded."

They drove all the way to the other side of the island, which took over half an hour because of the curved roads. The road was paved but there were no houses or people anywhere that they could see. Every now and then they would see something that might have been a driveway, but if a house was there it was way back in the trees.

"Now this is what you call the boonies," Sam said.

Finally George turned into a driveway and they started to drive down hill. Over the tops of the trees they could see the top of the light house. As they drove farther down the gentle slope of lake side cliff they arrived at a piece of jutting land that was about thirty feet above the lake. Everywhere as far as the eye could see was trees.

Sam bet it would have been beautiful if they had been here two weeks ago when everything was in full color. Now the leaves were all fallen and the trees resembled wooden skeletal fingers reaching up to the sky.

They parked their vehicles in front of the main door and climbed out. George walked up to them and hurried them inside to the living quarters to get out of the rain.

Dean and Sam removed the wet parkas and hung them on the hooks next to the door. George flipped the switch and an over head light lit up the entry way.

"Your job while you're here is to maintain the house and the light house. Much of the furniture here is antique. The building itself is over a hundred years old and in original condition."

They entered the main room and saw over stuffed furniture, pine wood rustic tables and a rocking chair. Thick quilts in rich reds and blues lay on the backs of the sofas and there was a nautical feel to the place that was similar to the museum they just left. Model ships lined the mantle of the fire place along with other wooden carving. The place felt timeless, like a lodge in the Adirondacks.

George led them through the house. The dinning room had a long, aged, wood table and brass candlesticks. A stack of white linens were placed in a closet in the corner. The kitchen resembled an old farm house with a six burner stove and large sink basic. The floor was a gray stone tile.

'Living here was going to be really nice,' Sam thought. He especially liked that every room seemed to have a fireplace.

"The pantry is through there, the back porch is there and the bedrooms are upstairs."

"This place is awesome," Dean said.

"A few years back the historical society did preservation work on the place, spruced it up real nice. During the summer months we get a lot of tourists out here, brings a lot of money to the island. This time of year the island goes to sleep and hibernates till spring."

"How many people live on the island year round?" Sam asked.

"About five hundred total. The general meeting places are church on Sunday, the General Store on Main Street, or Clara's Diner on Willow Road. You boys are going to need to go to the supermarket and stock up on food. Here's a voucher to use at the market. It's for $300 to get you started. Be sure to buy a lot of non-perishables. When the snow comes you two will be snowed in for a while. There's only one plow for the entire island and because you are so far out of the way you'll get you road plowed last."

"Are you serious?" Sam asked. "What if there's an emergency?"

"You have a radio to call the sheriff for help. If the roads aren't plowed then a Sno-Cat will come out to get you. My advice is for you two to be careful and look after each other. This place is really isolated once the snows come."

Dean and Sam looked at each other. Suddenly this idea didn't seem as appealing as it had just a few minutes ago but it was too late to back out now.

"Follow me to the lighthouse and I'll show you your duties there."

George led them to the back of the house and opened a large wooden door. Before them was a tall spiral staircase that seemed to go up forever. George started climbing with Dean and Sam following.

"Now it's very important that the windows up here get washed once a week. The light itself needs to be tested every single night whether it is to be used or not. On clear nights with a good moon you don't need to run the light. If there's no moonlight then you run it. Obviously during times of rain, fog, or snow you will have the light running even during daylight hours. In the main house is a radio and occasionally a ship may call in and report something to you or ask a question. It doesn't happen too often cause the coast guard is out there, but some of the old timers like to still call in."

George kept talking all the while climbing the stairs. Dean and Sam were panting heavily by the time they made it to the top.

"Don't worry, every time you climb these things it gets easier and easier," George said with a chuckle. "Now, the switches are over here. This one is for the light, this one is for rotation, and this one is for the fog horn. To change the bulb you simply remove this glass panel, very carefully I might add. They are very expensive to replace. Pop the burnt bulb out and insert the new one. Spare bulbs are in the closet over there. Put the glass panel back and run a second check."

"Now, should the electricity go out there is a back up generator for the light house. It's located right outside at the base of the tower. You'll need to keep it free from snow or it will become a fire hazard and not work. There is also a generator for the house, too. The gasoline reserve is out back in a giant tank."

"How often does the power go out?" Dean asked.

"Truthfully, not that often. The power lines are under ground so they're safe from the winds. Now follow me back down the stairs."

George was like a machine. Dean and Sam were trying to remember all his instructions.

"In the shed outside there is two snowmobiles for you to use. They are not toys to go joyriding on. They are your main transportation once you're snowed in."

"Got it," Dean said.

"Maintaining the snowmobiles is also part of your job. Change the oil if need be and so forth."

"Just how bad are the snow storms around here? I mean, this isn't going to be like Stephen King's The Shining is it?" Sam asked.

"That all depends on how easily spooked you two are. For years people have claimed this place is haunted, but I've never seen anything to make me believe that."

"Never?" Dean asked.

"No, never. There are no such things as ghosts."

"Then what do you think happened to the last care taker?" Sam questioned.

"I think he couldn't take the loneliness and he split. I won't lie to you boys. It's not easy being out here. It's definitely not a job for a single person. Personally, I prefer to have men with families stay here during the winter. A wife and kids are good things when you're cut off from the world."

"Then why did you hire us?" Dean asked.

"Because you two are the only ones who applied for the job," George answered. "After John vanished a couple of weeks ago the stories of this place being haunted started up again and no one wants to work here now. My advice to you two is to keep busy. Make sure you have plenty of books to read. There is a television upstairs along with a large assortment of DVD's. There's no cable, but you do have an antenna.

"What about internet service?" Sam asked.

"You can use the phone lines unless they go out. There's a pool table upstairs along with other games and stuff to do during your down time. Well boys, I really need to get going."

Sam and Dean followed George to the front door where he put his slicker back on.

"You each get paid $300 a week, which is good money since you don't have to pay for room and board or utilities. Fred, the mailman, will bring your checks to you when the road is clear. If the road is impassable he'll leave them at the General Store for you to pick up when you next get to town. Any questions?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other and then looked to George and shook their heads.

"Okay then, I'll see you two around." He handed them the keys and went out into the storm.

Dean closed the door behind him.

"Wow." Sam ran a hand through his hair. "For an old guy he sure has a lot of energy."

"Definitely," Dean agreed. "I'm going to run out to the car and grab our things."

"I'll come too," Sam offered.

They each grabbed a slicker hanging next to the door and ran to the car. As fast as they could they grabbed their bags with their personal belonging and carried them to the house. Then they made a second trip and grabbed items from the trunk; salt, shot guns with rock salt, dream catchers, and Dean's EMP detector.

Once back in side Dean spoke up, "Well, we may as well move in."

They went upstairs with their bags and checked out the bedrooms. There were two rooms with one full size canopy bed, and then there were two rooms that had two full size sleigh beds in each one. All four rooms had fireplaces. They were tastefully decorated with simple linens and handmade quilts. The furniture was fashionable carved and simple white lace curtains hung from the windows.

"So do you want your own room, or do we share a room?" Dean asked.

"We might as well have our own bedroom," Sam replied. "We're about to be stuck together every minute of the day. We'll probably want a little privacy in the evening."

"Okay, well I'm going to go ahead and take this room," Dean said, going into a blue room that had two beds in it. The walls weren't painted as much as they had been washed in a pale blue color allowing for some of the natural wood to show through.

Sam picked the green room that was right next to Dean's. It only had one bed in it. Sam didn't understand why Dean picked a room with two beds but whatever he wanted was fine by him.

They unpacked their belongings and Sam plugged in his laptop and logged on to the internet. He figured he should do some research as soon as possible in case the phone line went down suddenly from the storm that was currently raging outside.

"I'm going to go and get the light house up and running," Dean said.

"Okay, I'll be here when you get back."

"All right. I'll also rummage through the pantry and see if I can find some food for us to eat tonight."

"Great," Sam replied as he tapped on the keys.

Suddenly a loud thunder rolled across the sky and a flash of lightning lit everything up. A loud crackling noise could be heard coming from the back of the house and then the lights flickered several times.

"What the hell?" Sam gasped.

"That came from the light house," Dean replied and started running with Sam right behind him.

***

Dean and Sam hurried through the house and up the stairs of the lighthouse. Again they were panting heavily once they reached the top. Outside more thunder and lightning continued across the sky. Suddenly another bolt struck down from the sky and struck a near by tree with a loud crack. From the limitless view from the windows of the lighthouse they watched the tree burn until the rain finally put the fire out.

Dean realized the light wasn't working. He tried to turn on the lantern but the bulb wouldn't light.

"I think we got hit by lightning," Dean said. He started moving the glass panel with Sam's help and then he exchanged the bulb. It was the biggest light bulb he had ever seen. Together they replaced the glass and then Sam walked over and flipped the switch. Once more the high powered beam of light cut through the rain and gloom.

"Well, that's one crisis solved," Dean said.

"I think we should get out of here just in case this place gets hit again," Sam said. The storm was getting worse, not better.

"Yeah, I think you're right," Dean agreed.

Once back down stairs the two went to the kitchen. Sam found a few cans of Campbell's beef and barley soup in the pantry along with some saltine crackers and half a bag of Oreo's.

"Looks like the last light keeper was a light eater," Dean said.

"Maybe he disappeared before he had a chance to stock up on groceries."

"Maybe."

They rummaged through the kitchen and found a pot, bowls, and silverware. Sam made the soup while Dean checked out the fridge. He ended up throwing away spoiled milk, rotten apples, and onions that had turned into plants. He did manage to find a couple of bottles of beer.

"Sweet," Dean announced, holding up his find to Sam.

"Excellent." Sam poured the soup into the bowls and then divvied up the crackers and even the Oreo's. They ate at the small wooden table in the kitchen since there was no point in messing up the dining room.

"We should make a point of going to the market tomorrow," Sam said. "We don't want to get caught here with no food."

"Totally," Dean replied.

"You know, there's something we need to seriously think about."

"What?"

"Well, let's say this ghost doesn't show himself right away. We don't know who the ghost is yet so we don't know who's remains to dig up and burn. We might be here a couple of weeks."

"So?" Dean asked.

"What are we going to do if we get snowed in here and can't get out? Are you prepared to stay here till spring?" Sam asked.

"I don't think we'd be stuck here till spring. George said that the plow will come this way, it just comes here last."

"But if we should get several snow storms in a row, we could be here for a while."

"It's a risk, but I think we'll be fine. Besides, it may take a while to get rid of the ghost," Dean replied.

"That's another thing we'll have to do tomorrow…research. We need to know who we're up against and just how ticked off this ghost is."

"We can start at the library and even the Nautical Museum should provide some info. Like I said, these disappearances and bouts of insanity have been going on for sixty years, so what ever we're looking for will predate that."

"There should be a list of all the past keepers at the museum. This ghost is probably one of them or connected to one of them somehow."

"Makes sense. You know, we should probably check out the library here and the DVD collection. Honestly, we are going to need to find a way to entertain ourselves around here."

"We'll have plenty of time to practice our pool game," Sam joked. It was a known fact that dean was a champion pool hustler.

"You mean you can practice your game," Dean smirked. "Mine's already perfect."

They finished up their meager meal and put the dishes in the sink. Sam washed and Dean dried.

"I don't know about you, but after driving all for two straight days I'm beat," Dean said.

Sam stole a glance out the window. "The storm seems to be finally letting up."

"Good. Hopefully we won't get hit by any more lightning." They were half way up the stairs when Dean reminded Sam, "Don't forget to take your prescription."

"I won't," Sam said.

"The doc said you had to finish all ten days of the antibiotic."

"I know, I was there, remember," Sam laughed. "Besides, my neck and arm are healing fine."

"Still, take your meds."

"I will! Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sammy."

"It's Sam," he reminded as he closed the door, although he didn't even know why he bothered. Once inside his room Sam changed into his sweat pants. He looked around his new room. It was nice. The blankets were thick and soft and the pillows were fluffy. In the corner of the room on a small table was a stack of books. He looked at the pile and saw they were mostly murder mysteries and horror stories. He usually didn't go for this type of reading but he didn't have anything else so he picked one of them up and flipped through it. He climbed into his bed and started to read.

Outside the rain had stopped but the wind continued to blow wildly. The windows rattled and a when a particularly strong gust hit the house the window made a whistling noise. The temperature in the room began to drop. At first Sam didn't notice as he read his book but soon he was setting the book down and rubbing his hands together to ease the chill in his fingers.

He suddenly realized that the chill in the room wasn't natural. He got out of bed and walked to his door to check the temperature of the hallway. He turned the knob but the door didn't open. He tugged and pulled on it but it remained shut.

He turned to look around his room and listened carefully for any strange noise. Unfortunately there was so much noise from outside that he couldn't detect anything out of the ordinary. His nose picked up the smell of ozone in the air.

"Hello?" Sam called. He waited and continued to listen. He blew on his fingers trying to warm them. Then he rubbed his hands up and down his bare arms. He realized he could see his breath when he exhaled.

"If you can hear me do something," Sam said patiently.

Sam gasped when something touched him on the shoulder. "Show yourself."

"get out"

The words were little more than a whisper but they were said right next to Sam's ear. Once more Sam grabbed for the door knob and tried to open the door but like before it was stuck.

"Dean!" Sam called and pounded on the door. "Dean!"

Dean had just fallen asleep when he heard Sam calling him and pounding on the door. In a flash he was out of his bed and at Sam's door.

"Sam?"

"Dean, the door's stuck. Something's in here with me."

"Are you in danger?" Dean demanded.

"I don't think so, but there is definitely a spirit in the room. It's freezing in here and it touched me."

Dean grabbed the knob and turned it but the door remained shut even though the latch was clear.

"Stand back," Dean said. He backed up a bit, turned the knob, and rammed into the door. The door opened with a slam. Dean entered the room and noticed how cold it was. Sam was right, something was in the room.

The brothers stood and waited for something to happen but nothing did. After a minute the chilly air began to dissipate and the room returned to a normal temperature. What ever had been there was now gone.

"Tell me everything that happened," Dean said.

"I was in bed reading. The room got cold, really cold. I went to the door. I was going to see if the whole house was that cold or just my room. Then the door wouldn't open. I called out to it to see if it would try to communicate. Then it touched my shoulder and said the words, 'get out.' That's when I called you."

"I'll be back." Dean went to his room and grabbed his walkman. He made a circle around Sam's room and sure enough he was getting a reading. Something had most definitely been in Sam's room.

"Well, at least we know there is an honest to god ghost here and not just a creation of someone's imagination. I doubt we'll hear from it anymore tonight."

"I guess we may as well go back to bed," Sam said.

"Yeah, all right. Call me if you need anything." Dean left the room but made a point of leaving both of their doors open.

Sam turned out his light and got back into bed. Suddenly the friendly and cozy bedroom didn't seem as friendly and cozy. With the lights off, the wind howling, and the trace of ozone still present the room was down right scary. Then there was the fact that Sam hadn't been alone at night in ages. His whole life he had shared a room with Dean. In college he was alone for like a year and then he lived with Jess for the next three. Even during the past six months he hadn't been alone.

The crazy thought of going into Dean's room crossed his mind, and he suddenly understood why Dean chose a room with two beds in it. Dean knew Sam would end up in there. Well, he was 22 years old. He didn't need to share a room with someone. Everything would be fine once he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

He snuggled down in his bed, but sleep came hours later when his body finally gave in to exhaustion.

000000000

Sam was running and running through the snow. He looked around but he was alone. All alone. Where was his father? Where was mother? Where was his big brother? Why was no one coming for him? He continued to run and call their names.

"Mom! Dad," cried. As he called his mind seemed to fight against him. He didn't have a mom. Why was he yelling for her? "Tom...Tom, help me!" No, his brother's name wasn't Tom, it was Dean. "Dean...Dean!" He was so confused and so cold. He didn't want to die out here. Mom had told him that if he got lost outside he could die of the cold. Tears started to roll down his cheeks and his body began to shiver both from the cold and from fear.

"Sammy! Sammy, wake up," a strong and determined voice ordered.

Sam recognized the voice. It was the one that had been there for him almost his entire life. He latched on to it and suddenly the cold disappeared and he wasn't alone, but he was still trembling and the tears still came.

"Sammy, come on, snap out of it," Dean repeated. He didn't know what to think. He had heard Sam mumbling in his sleep and then suddenly he was screaming Dean's name. For the second time that night Dean ran into Sam's room. He was shocked at what he found. Sam's body was jerking and shaking and he was crying like a small child. Dean watched as Sam finally stopped shaking and his cries became small sniffles. "Sam, can you hear me?"

"Dean? Dean what's happening?" Sam was very confused and he wiped the moisture from his eyes.

"You were dreaming but it was more than that. I think you just got visited by a spirit again."

"I was outside," Sam said as he began to remember. "I was running through the snow looking for my family. Tom, I had a brother named Tom. I was afraid I was going to freeze to death outside but I didn't know how to get home."

"How old were you in the dream?"

"I don't know. I never saw myself. I must have been young though because I was terrified."

Sam sat up in his bed and ran a hand through his hair. He was surprised to find himself covered in a cold sweat.

"All right, that's it," Dean announced.

"What's it?" Sam asked.

"Get up. You're coming in my room."

"Dean, I don't need to sleep with my big brother."

"I know, but something in this place has taken a liking to you. You've been visited twice in one night, not to mention the fact that I'm getting tired of running across the hall. Now get up and let's go."

"He was the baby brother," Sam suddenly blurted.

"Who? Tom?"

"No, me. I mean, in the dream, I was the baby brother. That's why I was looking for Tom. He was supposed to be looking out for me."

"That sounds familiar," Dean mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Now come on, let's go. It's cold and I'm tired and the longer I have to stand here waiting for you to move the less sleep we are going to get."

Sam gave up. Truth be told he didn't want to stay in this room alone anymore anyway, but somehow he couldn't stop him self from giving Dean a hard time. He got up and followed Dean.

Dean dug around in his bag and pulled out a box of salt. It only took him a second to put a circle of salt around each bed. Hopefully that would stop any more spirits from invading their unconscious minds while they slept.

000000000

The next morning while Dean was getting dressed he was listening to the radio in their bedroom. The weather man was forecasting a substantial snow fall for Monday. Since today was Friday that left them very little time to get their research and preparations done before they became trapped here.

Dean hated to admit it but he was beginning to have second thoughts about this job. It wasn't that he was afraid of the ghosts. It didn't even bother him that much that Sam had been visited twice last night. They weren't in any danger...yet. What worried him was what Sam had said last night. They just might get stuck out here for a very long time, even after they sent the spirits packing. Dean wasn't used to being cooped up. He was an easy come easy go kind of guy. He wasn't afraid of loneliness. He knew that feeling well. No, it really was just the aspect of not being able to come and go as he pleased.

Still, he had chosen this job for a reason...Sammy. The past few months had been a lot for his sensitive baby brother to deal with. Too much had happened too fast; Jess dying, his leaving college, dad disappearing, that damn shape shifter, the nightmares, and then the horseman almost killed him. Dean had figured a simple haunting would be a piece of cake. Plus Sam would like the two of them earning honest money and having the chance to stay in one place for a little while.

Dean would just have to find a way to deal with being stuck here. It wasn't like it was a bad place. The house was really cool, and he even liked the lighthouse. It would just be strange to not be able to climb into his car and drive when the urge hit him. Still, he was tough. He would be just fine. He was a Winchester after all.

"Hey Dean!" Sam called happily from the bottom of the stairs.

"What?"

"Come here! Hurry!"

Dean grabbed his boots and jogged down the stairs. He found Sam standing at the front door.

"Shh," Sam held a finger to his lips and motioned for Dean to follow. Dean saw that he had a wilted looking carrot in his hand. The front door was open and Dean watched as Sam quietly and smoothly walked out of the house and towards two deer that were standing not more than twenty feet from them.

"Hey girl," Sam said calmly. "You hungry?" He moved slowly so as not to frighten them. Little by little he moved closer. Finally he stopped and let the doe make the final move. After a moment's hesitation the doe finally decided she wanted the carrot enough to risk it or that Sam wasn't a threat after all. It walked up to Sam and began to eat the carrot from his hand. Sam ran his hand down her back and then released the carrot. Both deer took off through the woods.

"Okay, that was impressive," Dean said.

"I've never done that before," Sam said. "Dad always made me shot them or bow hunt them. I always hated killing them though."

"But we always ate anything we killed," Dean pointed out. "We never killed anything just for the fun of it...unless it was something evil."

"I know, I just...whatever," he finally said with a shrug. The bottom line was Dean would never truly understand him. He knew Dean loved him like a brother should, he knew Dean liked having him around, and he even did things once in a while to make him happy, but still, Dean didn't understand why Sam liked the things he liked or did the things he did. Dean had never wanted to be normal.

"So I take it you like this place?" Dean asked.

"It's nice," Sam replied. "We should probably get going though. We need to hit the market, the library, and the museum. With this being a small town and tourist season is over, everything will probably be closing down for the day at five o'clock."

"You're right. I figured we would split up. I'll take the museum, you take the library. That'll save some time."

"Good idea."

As the two climbed into the car Dean knew that he had made the right decision to come here. This place would be like a vacation for Sam.

00000000

Beaver Island Public Library wasn't very impressive. It was a house that had been converted into a library. Like many small town libraries it's focus was on entertainment. There was a section in the library that provided resources for kids to do your basic book report or write an essay on Mars, but little else.

"Hi," Sam said to the old lady sitting behind the desk. I'm curious about the lighthouse."

"I'm sure you are since you're currently living there."

"How did you know that?"

"Are you kidding," the little old woman exclaimed. "Everyone knows about you and your brother coming here to take the light keepers position. Personally I think you two are very brave. I wouldn't even want to step foot in there. It's haunted you know?"

"Really?" Sam asked. "Who's haunting it?"

"There could be any number of ghosts in that house. At least seven men have died in that house, others have gone insane, and several even killed their wives and families. I think that place is truly evil." As she said all this there was a gleam of excitement in her eyes. She might have been afraid of the old place but she wasn't above gossiping about it.

"Do you know the name of the first once to die there?" he asked.

"No, I'm afraid not," she replied. "For the first half of the 1900's they didn't really keep many records about what happened there other than deeds, titles, and a master list of the keepers who were employed there."

"Do you think I could see that stuff?"

"What ever for?" she asked.

"Just…curiosity," Sam shrugged.

"Very well." She showed Sam to a back room and then left. A few minutes later she returned with a card board box.

"This is everything we've got."

"Thank you. I'm sorry, I never got you name."

"I'm Rose Daily. I've been running the library here for the past twenty years."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Sam."

"Yes, I heard that you had the brown hair. Your brother is a blond. He's Dean, right?"

"Yes," Sam chuckled. Finally Ms. Daily left when another person entered the library.

Sam looked through the old box she had brought him. As usual it was covered in dust and smelled of age and time. He sat there for an hour and everything he look through made for pretty dry reading. There was a list of the keepers. He found the day the light house was commissioned and who arranged for it, and he found out about several keepers dying while at the place, but no other details were provided.

Finally he began to search the card catalog since this place didn't have computers. He needed some books on local lore and ghost stories passed down through oral histories. Bingo, he managed to find four of them. He quickly applied for a library card and checked the books out along with some others for reading when he had nothing to do. It was time to head over to the museum and see what Dean had found.

***

Sam walked down the street enjoying the feel of the brisk air on his face. The air here smelled so fresh. The sun was shining bright and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. He was halfway to the museum when he walked past the arcade.

Just out of curiosity he turned his head and looked inside. Sam was shocked to see Dean in there playing a video game! Here he had been in the library for the past hour and something, and Dean was shooting space invaders or something just as stupid.

Sam marched into the arcade and stood behind Dean waiting for him to turn around and notice him. After a full two minutes went by Sam finally smacked Dean upside the back of his head.

"What the hell…oh, hi Sam," Dean said sheepishly.

"Hi, Sam? Are you shitting me? I've been looking through musty smelly books and documents and you're here popping quarters into a game."

"It's not just any game," Dean defended. "Don't you recognize this?"

Sam looked at the vintage machine and saw Centipede written across the top. Sam did remember the game. He and Dean used to play it all the time one summer when they were little. Dad had gone on a hunt and left them behind with an aunt who was now long since dead. At the corner of her street was an old time penny candy store with several video games in it. One of them had been Centipede. Every day for two months Sam and Dean would scour the town looking for pop cans and bottles to turn in for quarters so they could play. Sam couldn't help but smile at the fond memory, but still, they had work to do.

"Okay, I'm glad you got to take a trip down memory lane, but need I remind you that we have work to do, and time is short."

"I know, I know," Dean said. "Okay, let's go to the museum." He actually pouted a little as he left the arcade.

They walked the rest of the way to the Nautical Museum and went inside. The place was deserted. The two walked around reading the exhibits. The information provided was very factual and concise, but nothing of what they were looking for.

"Hello, may I help you?"

Sam and Dean saw a man in his mid-fifties standing there. He was tall and well built for his age with salt and pepper hair.

"Hi, I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean."

"Hello," Dean nodded.

"Hi, I'm Jonas Peele. So you two are the new light house keepers George hired."

"Yes, we are," Sam answered.

"How do you like it there?"

"It's really nice," Dean said. "A little far from civilization, but otherwise it's a great place."

"How well did you know the last keeper?" Sam asked.

"Why?"

"Well, I was just wondering why he left his job?"

"That's a question no one can answer," Jonas told them. "No one knows what happened to John."

"What do you think happened?" Dean asked.

"Why are you asking?" Jonas inquired.

"Well," Sam started, "Um…"

"You saw one of the ghosts last night, didn't you?" Jonas asked knowingly. "Was it the boy or the man? Or did you see the other one?"

"I'm not sure," Sam said. "You seem awfully at ease about all this. If I met two strangers claiming to see ghosts I would be a little worried."

"Are you kidding? Everyone here knows about the ghosts. Hell, half of our summer profits are made by luring tourists out here to come and visit the haunted lighthouse."

"So, who are these ghosts?" Dean asked. "Who did they used to be?"

"Well that's up for debate. There have been a lot of people to die out there, especially back in the day. Today if there is an emergency out there we can get a Sno-Cat out there, plus the snow plow does get out there eventually. In the old days the people caring for the light house truly were cut off from the rest of the town. It can be dangerous out there. The cliffs and rocks get ice covered and slippery, one can get lost and freeze to death, some people in the past ran out of food and starved to death, and some even lost their mind from the loneliness and took matters into their own hands."

"You mentioned a man, a boy, and the other. What's the other?"

"Oh, that's the mean one. For the most part the boy and the man seem to be harmless, but the other one is different. No one really knows if it's a man or a woman, but it's angry. Every now and then it throws things, knocks a picture off the wall, and basically does things to scare people."

"Has it ever killed anyone?" Sam asked.

"I highly doubt that," Jonas said with a laugh. "I mean, there has been some unexplainable things happen out there, but I think most of the problems are purely human and not supernatural in nature."

"What about the people who disappeared? This is an island. How do you just walk away and have no one notice? At the very least you would have to take the ferry to leave the island. Surely someone would see you," Dean pointed out.

"True, but then there are lots of boats on this island. John could have gotten a ride from someone passing by."

"Did he pick up his last paycheck?" Sam asked.

"Excuse me?"

"His last paycheck," Sam repeated. "If you're going to quit and take off, you'd want to have as much money as you possibly could."

"I don't know if he collected his last check or not. I'm sure the sheriff looked into it, though."

"Do you have a list of past keepers and the names of their families?" Dean asked. "We're really interested in the old place since we moved in and kind of want to learn more about the local lore and history."

"I have a list of the keepers but not their families. There're only a couple of them where we have information about their families. One would be Charles Butler from 1909. His wife went out for a walk and got lost when a blizzard hit. She froze to death. Charles was so broken hearted he hanged himself from the lighthouse railings. Another would be Michael Fritz. He had a wife, Magdelena, and two sons, Thomas and Daniel."

"Thomas?" Sam asked right away. "When was Michael Fritz the keeper?"

"Back in 1943 if I remember correctly. It was during the second war. It was a tragic thing that happened to that family."

"What?" Dean asked.

"Well, it seems Michael was one of the ones that couldn't handle the seclusion. He had a break down they suspected. He murdered his wife with a fireplace poker. He crushed her skull beyond all recognition. Then he shot himself in the head."

"What happened to the boys?" Sam asked.

"No one knows. They were never seen again. Some people think he drowned them in the lake. During winter that water is cold, really cold. Bodies sink to the bottom under those circumstances."

"But wouldn't they float back up come spring?" Dean asked.

"After months of being eaten on by the fish, maybe not, and if they did wash up somewhere, it wasn't here on the island. Maybe they turned up on the mainland."

"Well, thanks for all your help," Sam said.

"No problem. Listen, you two are welcome to come to church services tomorrow. Afterwards there'll be a pot luck luncheon. The women around here are pretty good cooks, let me tell ya."

"Thanks," Dean said. "Maybe we'll take you up on that."

"Great. Well, goodbye."

Dean and Sam left the museum and got in the car. It was time to go to the market which was only four blocks over.

The market was actually a pretty large place and they sold a bit of everything. Sam grabbed books, a few CD's, and a large book of cross word puzzles. Dean made sure to get extra pairs of gloves and hats for them

"Let's split up and get the groceries," Dean said. "I'll start on the right and you start on the left and we'll meet in the middle."

"Okay," Sam said.

Dean walked down the isle and started putting items in the cart at random. Sam started in the produce department. He grabbed a large bag of potatoes, onions, carrots, and celery. Then he grabbed two gallons of milk after checking the dates and tossed in a variety of cheeses.

It was awesome to be actually shopping for real food. He had used to do this with Jess. About every two weeks the two of them would go to the grocery store and Jess would make a point of selecting everything so carefully. At first he teased her but then he came to appreciate it. In the meat department he grabbed pack after pack of ground beef, ground turkey, and pork chops. Then he grabbed several packs of boneless, skinless chicken. It was funny, he had killed some of the most horrible beasts ever known to hell, but he refused to de-bone and skin a chicken! Now that was truly revolting.

He looked up when he saw his brother driving his cart wildly towards him. He couldn't believe Dean had filled a shopping cart that fast.

"Dude, you done yet?"

"Dean, what is all that?" Sam stared at the cart in disbelief. Dean had put about sixty cans of chili, beef stew, ravioli, beans, Vienna sausages, and Spam in his cart. On top of the can food was Oreos, Chips Ahoy, several boxes of Little Debbie cakes, and two boxes of Twinkies. Under the cart were several cases of coke and even a couple of packs of beer.

"It's called food," Dean replied. "Four years of college and you can't read a label."

"You are honestly planning on living on that for the next several weeks?"

"Well not just this stuff. I figured we'd get some frozen pizzas and some burritos to go to."

"You need help, you know that."

Dean looked in Sam's cart and did a double take. He picked up a package of hamburger and looked at Sam.

"Why are you buying this?"

"Because we are going to need to eat some meat every once in a while," Sam replied sarcastically.

"Bro, that's what the Spam and corned beef hash is for. Seriously, do you even know what to do with this stuff?" Dean asked.

"I believe it's perfectly acceptable to fry it in a pan."

Dean looked at him like he was from another planet. "And you actually know how to do this?"

"It's not that hard. Jess taught me."

"Your woman made you do the cooking?" Dean asked with a smirk.

"No she didn't. It's just that she had late night classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays so it was my job to make dinner on those nights. Trust me, women will only eat so many frozen pizzas before they take it upon themselves to teach you a few cooking skills. It turned out to be really easy."

Dean just shook his head. "Whatever. Just grab what you need and let's go."

"I'm going to need a little more time," Sam said. "I need to make sure I get everything for something I'm planning."

"What?" Dean asked.

"Nothing, it's a surprise. Now go away and leave me alone."

Dean's idea of going away was to follow Sam through out the store always remaining about six feet behind. Every now and then he would let out a long sigh signaling that he was really bored. Sam chose to ignore him and make sure he got everything he needed on his mental list: a small turkey, a box of stuffing, two cans of cranberry sauce, two jars of gravy, canned corn, peas, and green beans, several tubes of crescent rolls and even a frozen pumpkin pie and an apple cobbler pie.

He was pretty sure Dean had never had a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, at least not since mom died. He and Jess had celebrated the holiday for three straight years and he had helped her prepare the meal every time. It would be a ton of work but he knew he could do it. He had to make sure to get everything since this would probably be their one and only trip before the holiday, which was in about a week and a half.

"Dude, are you almost done yet?"

"Hold on, I just need a few more things. We need to get two dozen eggs, butter, and we should probably get one more gallon of milk."

"Why? We'll never be able to drink all of this before it spoils," Dean grumbled. Shopping with Dad had never taken this long.

"If you put it in the freezer it'll last for a month."

"Any you know this because…?"

"Once when Jess and I went on a trip she did it."

"Oh for crying out loud," Dean groaned. "Just grab it and let's go!"

Finally they got to the soap isle and Sam grabbed two bottles of detergent and two fabric softeners and announced that he was finally finished.

Ringing up their items took forever and earned Dean several strange looks from the cashier as she examined the items in his cart. The total came to $354, so Dean tossed in the extra $54 from his wallet and they pushed the two carts out to the car and loaded it up.

"All I can say is, if you think I'm going to be doing more than just opening a can and microwaving it you better think again. I don't cook."

"Don't worry; I'm not going to make you cook. Honestly, you're making such a big deal out of this."

"Well, just know that you and I will never do the grocery shopping together anymore more. A person would think you were the Bobby Flay or something."

"You watch cooking shows?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't answer, he just turned on the radio and drove them back home with the song 'Bad to the Bone' vibrating the windows.

***

Back at the house Sam put all of the groceries away, which ended up being a ton of work since there were so many of them. Dean had gone to the shed to check out the snow mobiles. He wanted to make sure they were working properly and gas them up.

Sam had a feeling Dean would be using them a lot. He knew Dean would hate being cooped up here, but at least the snow mobile would give him so mobility.

He figured he might as well get started on dinner. He wanted to prove to his brother that cooking wasn't that hard, and that yes, he actually knew how to do it. He decided on something easy, spaghetti and garlic toast.

As he cooked he thought about all they had learn today. He was pretty sure that Daniel was the ghost who visited him last night in his dreams. He was trying to show Sam something, but he didn't understand yet. Did Daniel die that day lost in the woods? Did he ever find Tom? How did he get lost in the first place? Was he running from something? Sam needed a lot more information.

He wasn't too worried about two of the ghosts. The boy was probably Daniel. The man could be the one who hanged himself, Charles Butler, or maybe even Michael Fritz. Or it could be none of them. The one that worried him was the 'other' one. He had a feeling that he was visited by that one last night too, when he was told to get out. Then again, maybe it was the man who was warning them to get out, to protect them or something. Yep, he definitely needed a lot more information. After dinner he would start reading some of the books he had checked out today on local lore. Maybe he could find some answers in there.

00000000

Dean walked into the shed and extended his hands in thanks. "Oh, yes!" he exclaimed. He rushed to the two snow mobiles and ran his hands over them appreciatively. They were a sight of beauty. They held the promise of freedom. Let the snow come. Maybe he couldn't drive his baby, but he wasn't trapped. Hell, he and Sam could easily get back and forth to town on these things during good weather.

He lifted up the seats and found storage compartments and everything on them. He had a seat on the royal blue one and gripped the handle bars like a kid in a candy shop. He spotted the keys handing on the wall of the shed and hopped off long enough to retrieve it. Once back on, he started the engine and revved it loudly.

"Sweet!" As long as he had these babies right here life would be good. He would have a blast riding these things. He turned off the engine to save the gas and then put the key back on its hook. He checked the gas reserves and saw that they had more than enough for the entire winter if need be.

He had no intentions of staying here that long. A couple of weeks, three at the most, should be enough to get the job done and head out. He'd get to kick some spooks asses, Sam would get to play house and rest up a bit, and then they'd be back on the road looking for Dad.

He missed his father. It was hard with the old man just disappearing. Was he dead? Was he in jail? Had he been captured by something? Was he in hiding from something? Or, had he just got tired of it all and walked out on Dean? In his heart he knew it wasn't the last one, but still, where was he? Why didn't he call? Dean never realized how much he had relied on his father. Dad always made the really big decisions. Dad chose the jobs. Dad always knew what to do in any situation, and Dean had been happy to let him make those decisions.

Now all of a sudden he had been thrust into that roll. Every day Sam looked to him to decide the what, when, where, and why. Not that Sam didn't do anything, mind you. He was awesome at research. That was one of the things Dean missed most about Sam when he went to college. It was definitely helpful having a bookworm in the family.

Plus, Sam was good to have in a battle. The kid could fight…not as good as Dean could…but he could usually hold his own in most situations. Yeah, that's why that shape shifter almost rang his pretty little neck and the Hookman and the Horseman sliced him open. Dean froze. He couldn't believe he'd just thought that. Sam had done his best during those fights. Still, his best hadn't been good enough. The kid was seconds away from dying each time. Dean put his hand to his head and literally shook it back and forth, trying to shake the cruel thoughts out of there.

He took several steps back away from the snow mobile and tried to figure out what he was feeling. You've saved his life how many times, and the minute you find Dad he's going to leave again. Ungrateful little shit.

Suddenly Dean realized what was happening. These weren't his thoughts. Something was trying to enter his mind. He hurried out side, away from the shed.

"Get out of my head!" he shouted. "I won't believe your lies." He stood his ground and waited to see if his mind would be assaulted once more but whatever had just happened seemed to be over now. Dean took a deep breath and wiped his face with his hand. Well that had certainly been intense. Suddenly he thought about Sam. Was his brother also having his head messed with?

Dean ran to the house, throwing open the front door. He searched through the house frantically.

"Sam! Sam!"

"In the kitchen," Sam's voice called.

Dean took another shaky breath and put on his mask of composure before entering the kitchen.

"What's up?" Sam asked as he dumped a box of noodles into boiling water.

"Uh, I just wanted to let you know that the snow mobiles are in perfect running order."

"That's good," Sam said. "I can't wait to take them out for a ride. It should be fun."

"Yeah," Dean replied. "So, everything okay in here?"

Sam looked at him strange. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Uh, no reason. I just wanted to make sure that, you know, you don't burn the place down or anything," Dean replied.

Sam just rolled his eyes and turned back to his pot. "I'm not going to burn the place down. I was thinking after dinner we might go for a hike, do a little exploring."

"Sure, that sounds good."

"Then later I'll start reading. I checked out a bunch of books on local lore. There's bound to be some ghost stories in there."

"I'll help with that," Dean said.

"Great. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes."

"Can I help?" Dean asked.

Once again Sam stared at him. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with my real brother?"

"Ha, ha."

"Really…Mr. I Don't Cook is offering to help."

"Don't be an asshole. I just thought you might need a hand," Dean grumbled, trying to remember why he had come in this room in the first place. Oh yeah, to check on Sam. His whole life had been spent watching out for Sam, and now the rest of his life would be a continuation of the same.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pick on you. If you really want to help you can grab some dishes and silverware and set the table."

"We really should have thought about buying some paper plates and cups while at the market. Washing dishes is going to be a pain in the ass."

"Maybe we can make one more trip to the market on Monday before the storm hits," Sam offered.

"Yeah, maybe." Dean searched through the cabinets to find plates and glasses and then rummaged through the drawers for some forks. He had to admit that Sam's cooking sure smelled good.

Sam dished out generous servings of the pasta and meat sauce and then put two slices of garlic toast on each plate. The two sat down to eat. Sam waited anxiously for Dean to say something. Dean knew he was waiting for a compliment or a complaint and he felt like messing with him so he sat there and said nothing. After each bite Sam would watch him for a reaction until finally when Dean's plate was halfway gone Sam just finally came out and asked him.

"Well, do you like it?"

"I'm eating it aren't I," Dean smirked.

"Yeah, well from you that isn't necessarily a compliment. I'm sure if I put ketchup on it and stuck it between two buns I could probably get you to eat dog poop."

Dean actually choked on his food when he started laughing. "Actually, when you think of some of the diners I've eaten at I think I may have already have had that meal, several times in fact." He took a long drink from his can of Coke before continuing.

"The food is good, Sammy. Thanks for cooking."

"You're welcome."

000000000

Dean and Sam hiked through the woods surrounding the lighthouse. There were several trails that wound their way around the property, obviously put there for summer tourists. Today the paths were abandoned except for them. The ground was soft but not too muddy and a thick layer of leaves covered the dirt paths that crunched as they walked. Soon their cheeks and noses were rosy from the cold air.

"Let's head down towards the water," Sam suggested.

"Sure." Dean took the left fork in the path which would lead to the water's edge. After a bit the trees gave way to a small spit of sandy beach. Looking up you could see the lighthouse over head on the side of the cliff, and looking straight ahead there was another building.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"I think this is the fog horn. See the loud speakers facing towards the water."

"I wonder why they didn't just attach it to the light house."

"Maybe," Dean replied, "so the people living in the lighthouse wouldn't have their eardrums blasted out."

"Ah! Good thinking. Wow, it's going to be a challenge to fall asleep the first time we have to run this thing all night."

"I don't think it'll be that loud for us. We're a good distance away, plus the speakers point out. We can always test them later tonight."

Sam walked away from the fog horn and closer to the water. He picked up a rock and skipped it perfectly across the surface. Dean came to join him the two skipped rocks for several minutes.

"I still remember the day I taught you how to do this," Dean said. "You were so frustrated at first. You stomped you foot and said that skipping rocks was stupid."

"That's cause all my rocks kept sinking to the bottom," Sam laughed. "My whole life you always learned how to do everything first. Ride a bike, whistle, skip rocks, I remember thinking that I wanted to figure out just one thing before you did."

"Maybe that's why you took to school so much. You knew I hated it," Dean chuckled.

"Nah, I liked school because no one at school knew what we did after dismissal. In school we were just like everyone else."

"Sam, I don't want to talk about this again."

"About what?"

"About how you and I are freaks. I know you think our childhood sucked, but you're 22, let it go already."

"I wasn't about to have that conversation," Sam retorted. "You're the one that started talking about the past." He threw his last rock and turned to walk away.

"Sam! I'm sorry," Dean sighed. "It's just…sometimes you make it sound like we were raised by the devil himself. Everything Dad ever did he did out of love. All he ever wanted was for us to be safe and know how to take care of ourselves."

"I know that," Sam snapped, and then more softly he added, "really, I do."

"Can you honestly say it was all bad?" Dean asked. "Even the time you and I spent together?"

Suddenly Sam turned to look at Dean. "No, god no! I turned my back on hunting, but I never regretted having you for a brother. You were the best brother…well…most of the time," he smirked.

"Of course I was the best brother," Dean said with that shit eatin' grin plastered on his face. "I deserve a medal for putting up with you all these years."

"I wouldn't go tooting your horn too loudly. I also remember the time you lost me in the middle of a carnival because you were too busy chasing after several girls."

"Hey, I told you to stay put. You're the one that had to go and wander off."

"You told me to stay put and then never came back. I was nine. What did you think I would do? I went to look for you."

"Man, dad busted my ass for that one. I went back to get you after I got their phone numbers and you were gone. I was searching all over for you and after an hour I finally gave up and went to get Dad. At first he was too busy being scared to nail me, but once the cops called several hours later and said you were at the station that was it. That was one of the worst spankings I ever got. Dad must have taken his belt to my backside at least twenty times."

"I remember. I think I cried just as loudly as you did and I never even got hit. I felt so bad for you."

"Yeah, but I never held it against the old man. I shouldn't have left you."

"You were a kid. You made a mistake. Besides, it all turned out alright in the end."

"Put it this way, I never lost you ever again," Dean said proudly, and he never would. The two pitched several more stones in silence, each lost to their own thoughts.

Sam took a few more steps towards the water and gazed at the rippled surface. It was so peaceful looking and yet he knew the water was freezing cold. Water that cold could cause a person to go into hypothermia in just a few minutes.

"You planning on going for a swim?" Dean asked, as if plucking the thought right out of his mind.

"Definitely not. That water's what? Forty degrees? I'll pass on joining the Polar Bear Club this time around."

Two large barges began their slow journey past them moving south. Sam wondered what cargo they were carrying. The sun was beginning to set and as he looked out across the water Sam could see a fog slowly rolling in towards land. It was still pretty far out but it was coming.

"Looks like we get to test the fog horn tonight."

"What?" Dean looked out to where Sam was gazing and also saw the fog. "We should start heading back. It's getting dark and we're going to need to get the light house up and running."

They started walking back quickly. Suddenly the sound of someone walking on leaves came from another direction, causing both of them to stop and look.

"Hello?" Dean called. "Is someone there?"

No one answered but Dean and Sam both had the feeling they weren't alone. The sound continued to move past them towards the water. Then Dean saw it. A woman was walking towards the water. She wore a long dress of navy blue that came all the way to her ankles and her black hair was pulled into a loose bun on top of her head.

Dean was about to go after her but Sam grabbed his arm. "Dean, she's not real."

Dean did a double take and realized that with some effort you could see through her. She was a ghost. The woman began to walk out into the water never turning to look back at the land. After a minute she had walked out all the way to her neck and then finally her head disappeared beneath the surface.

"Just how many ghosts are haunting this place?" Dean asked.

"At least four so far."

"Christ, we're going to have to dig up half the cemetery at this rate," Dean complained. Digging up graves was hard back breaking work.

"I have a feeling we're going to have to find a different approach to this than salting and burning remains."

"And what approach would that be exactly?"

"I wish I knew," Sam replied.

***

Dean looked out through the windows of the light house and was amazed to see nothing, nothing but an empty grayness that absorbed all light and color. He had driven through fog before, but he had never seen anything like this. The fog was so thick that it completely blocked out the world outside. One would almost think it was a solid mass…impenetrable.

His duties were done for the night. The light was on and rotating and down on the beach he could just barely hear the fog horn blaring out across the lake warning the ships of the coast.

Dean really liked being up here, but tonight the fog made it slightly claustrophobic so he figured he should go and help Sam with the research like he had said he would. He walked down the metal stairs back into the house. He made a point of checking the doors and locks before heading upstairs.

Dean walked into their room and smiled. Sam was sound asleep in bed with a book lying open, face down, on his chest rising and falling with his every breath. It was a position he had found Sam in often when he was younger. He quietly picked up the book and dog-eared the corner before closing it and setting it on the night stand.

He took a moment to look at Sam's neck. He was no longer wearing a bandage over the wound and it was healing nicely. Tomorrow or the next day he would probably be able to remove Sam's stitches from his neck and his arm. He turned out the light and changed into his bed clothes in the dark.

Dean crawled into bed and closed his eyes. He heard the toilet flush and looked at Sam's bed. Sam was still there and sleeping soundly. So who the hell was using the bathroom? He got out of bed and walked down the hall. He flipped on the lights to find an empty bathroom but the toilet was still filling it tank with water.

"Great, we have ghosts who use the toilet," he said to himself. "Oh well, at least they flush." He turned back to his room. "No wonder the previous caretakers cracked up. This place is a loony bin." Of course he didn't doubt for a minute the reason he and Sam were experiencing so much phenomena so quickly was because they were so open-minded about all of it. Nonbelievers had a natural resistance to ghostly activities and it took the spirit longer to break though and make them selves known.

He climbed into bed and closed his eyes for the night.

00000000

Once more Sam was running through the snow calling for his brother Tom. He ran through the trees ignoring the pain that came when occasionally a branch would scratch at his face. He needed to find Tom. He had to tell him about their mother and the horrible thing he had seen.

"Mommy…oh mommy," he cried. She was dead. Her blood had been everywhere. He didn't know where his father was, or Tom. He had to find them.

He continued to run until he broke through the trees. He was standing on the beach. The fog horn was on. He hated that thing. It was so loud and frightening. He dropped to his knees to catch his breath. He was so tired and his chest ached from breathing the icy air so deeply for so long.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump and scream. He looked up to see his brother. Tom had found him. Everything would be okay now. He stood up and wrapped his arms around Tom's waist. Tom was big. He was older. He would know what to do.

"Tom, mommy's dead. Someone killed her."

"I know."

"I can't find father."

"Don't worry, we will. Come with me. I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything."

00000000

"Sam! Wake up!"

Sam opened his eyes and then closed them against the bright morning sunlight.

"Why did you wake me up?" Sam grumbled. He had a feeling he was about to learn something important if he had just had the chance to finish. "I was so close."

"So close to what?"

"To learning what happened in 1942."

"Sammy, you aren't making any sense right now."

"I was dreaming, but it wasn't a dream. It was a memory."

"That's not possible. The beds are surrounded by salt. There's no way a ghost should be able to get to us while we sleep." Dean was putting on his white shirt and tucking it into his pants.

"It wasn't a ghost or a visitation. It was more like…like a vision."

Those words stopped Dean cold. "A vision?"

"Yeah…a vision."

"And since when did you start having visions?"

Sam didn't reply. He didn't want to. He hoped Dean would drop the subject but his brother was staring at him and waiting for a response.

"Sometimes…sometimes I see stuff. Not when I'm awake, but when I'm asleep. Sometimes it's about the past, sometimes it's the future."

"You want me to believe that you're psychic?" Dean asked.

"No, I'm not psychic. I can't predict the lottery numbers and I don't know what's going to happen in the next five minutes. All I'm saying is that sometimes I have dreams, and sometimes they come true."

Dean released a deep sigh. And just when he thought they couldn't possibly be any freakier than they already were, a new bombshell drops.

"Sam, I don't know what to say to this."

"You don't have to say anything, just don't call me crazy."

"Oh, you're definitely crazy, but that was true before I knew you had visions."

Sam smile and threw his pillow at Dean's head. Dean caught the pillow easily enough and tossed it back.

"You really do need to get up…and put on your good shirt."

"Why?"

"Because we have to go to church."

Sam laughed. "You're funny."

"I'm serious," Dean replied. "All of the community will be there. It'll be a good chance for us to do a little research, meet the locals, and even get some free food."

"Food?"

"Yeah, bro. Remember the potluck? That's today. So come on, hurry up."

"Dean, we have a house full of food. We don't have to find an excuse to eat other people's food today."

"True, but I'm about to be stuck looking at your ugly face and nothing but your ugly face for a while. So, get ready so we can go hang with the natives."

Sam went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He never thought he would see the day when Dean would want to go to church, even if he did hope to score some free food. Then Sam realized what it was. The storm was coming tomorrow. This would be Dean's last chance to socialize and flirt for a while. A smile crossed his face as he shampooed his hair. Dean would never change, and he was grateful for that.

00000000

They arrived at the church only about fifteen minutes late and quickly went inside and sat in the last row. Together they suffered through the last thirty minutes of the sermon before the reverend finally gave his final blessing and people began to stand and head for the doors. Sam and Dean sat there and watched the people go by. Dean was checking out all the ladies trying to find the ones that were single and cute. Unfortunately there wasn't that many. Most of the women were already married, and the ones that were left were slim pickings at best.

"Hello, there."

Sam and Dean turned to see who was greeting them and found that Jonas from the museum was there with his wife and kids.

"I'm glad you two decided to come."

"Thank you for inviting us," Sam replied.

"This is my wife, Meredith."

"How do you do?" Dean said, shaking her hand.

"Fine, thank you. Well, you two better come along. The potluck is in the church basement since it's so cold outside."

Sam and Dean followed them down a flight of metal steps into a large open room with white walls and a battleship gray painted floor. Long eight by two foot tables had been set out with folding chairs and white table clothes. A large group of women were busy setting up all the dishes they had prepared while the men stood to one side and talked and the little kids ran around without a care in the world.

Sam always felt out of place when they did stuff like this. He envied his brothers ability to walk in a room and act like he'd known the people there all his life. Sam was awkward until he finally got to meet a few people and then start a conversation.

Two girls in their early twenties approached them. They were blond and blue eyed, but they were both rather homely looking. One had on too much makeup and the other had none. Both girls wore floral skirts that were probably hand made with bulky turtle neck sweaters on top.

"Hi there," the one with too much makeup said. "I'm Jenny and this is my sister Louise."

"Hi, I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean. It's nice to meet you."

"I'd say the pleasure is all ours," Jenny gushed. She moved up real close to Sam and entwined her arm in his. "My you're a tall one."

"Uh, yeah, I get told that a lot," Sam said as he pulled his arm out of her grasp as politely as possible.

In the mean time Louise was cozying up to Dean.

"So you two are working at that scary lighthouse," Louise said. "It must be just terrifying there at night."

"Uh, not really," Dean said. "Things have been pretty quiet."

"Half the town is placing bets on how long you two last there," Jenny said. "But you two look pretty tough to me. I think you can handle a few ghosts."

"We'll do our best," Dean replied. "Uh, if you'll excuse us ladies, I think we should go and um…find…someone."

"Oh, do you have to go," Louise said, grabbing Dean's arm with her hands. "The island is so boring. Everyone knows everyone and we never have new people around to talk to."

"Jenny, Louise, I believe your mom is looking for you two," came a woman's voice from behind them.

Jenny and Louise both huffed in frustration and went to find their mom.

"Thank you," Sam said as he turned around. His words died on his lips. Standing before him was a woman who would take a man's breath away. She was maybe twenty three or twenty four, she had long silky auburn hair flowing down her back that ended in loose floppy curls. Her skin was like porcelain. Her eyes were brown, but they were large and expressive. Her clothes were simple but elegant. A fitted white shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks with black high heels.

Where Sam froze at the sight before him, Dean moved in for the kill.

"Hello," Dean said, flashing his most charming smile. "And thank you for rescuing us." He stretched out his hand and took hers in his own.

"Let me give you a word of advice about those two," she laughed. "Their mother has been trying to marry them off for a couple of years now and their father is looking for any excuse in the world to have a shot gun wedding."

"Gotcha," Dean replied with a smile. "I'm sorry, and your name is?"

"I'm sorry, I'm Tina Malone. I'm guessing by the way everyone here is staring at you two that you must be the new lighthouse keepers."

"Yes, I'm Dean Harte and this is my brother Sam."

"Hello," Sam said with a shy smile. Tina smiled back at him and he felt something inside him that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Well, it looks as if the food is nearly ready. Shall we all go get something to eat?" Dean asked. "I'm actually eager to talk to someone about the lighthouse, if you know anything that is."

"Why? Have you experienced something already?" Tina asked.

"Uh, well, now that you mention it, just a few things," Dean replied smoothly. "I'm not sure how much we should say for fear of being sent to a psych ward."

"Oh, I don't think you're crazy," Tina laughed. "I know all about that place. I'm your closest neighbor. Of course I'm half a mile away, but I often go for walks by the lighthouse and I've seen plenty of things that would cause others to think I was a little nuts if I were to talk to them about it."

"Well then, I definitely think we need to sit down and share stories," Dean said, extending an arm out to escort her to the buffet line.

Sam followed behind, slightly jealous that Dean had already staked his claim, but then Dean was just so good at working the ladies. Although, Sam had a feeling Tina wasn't necessarily going to be worked over that easily.

The three loaded up their paper plates with mashed potatoes, meatballs, fried chicken and other delicious looking food. Then they found an out of the way table and had a seat.

"So, if you don't mind my asking," Tina said, "why are you two here?"

"Free food," Dean grinned, which caused Tina to laugh.

"No, not at the potluck, but here on Beaver Island. I mean honestly, your both young, you seem intelligent, and you're relatively handsome," she teased. "So why come to an island that is in the middle of no where, offers literally no entertainment, and just a day before the first snowfall."

"We needed the jobs for a while," Dean answered. "We've sort of been on a road trip for the past few months and funds started to run low. With winter right around the corner, it just seemed like a good idea."

"I can understand that. So do you two go to school or anything?"

"I just graduated from Stanford," Sam said. "I was about to go to law school but then…something came up."

"I'm pretty much in the same boat. I was about to start my last year at U of M but then my father passed away this past August and I ended up coming home for the funeral and didn't go back. I thought I could try and make a go at running the ranch, ya know, make the old man proud of me, but the truth is I'm in over my head. I've already sold off the horse stock and most of the equipment. Come spring I'm hoping to sell the house and then go back to school next fall and finish my BA."

"So what are you going to school for?" Sam asked.

"Child psychology," Tina replied.

"You should get along well with my brother then," Sam grinned.

"Are you a psych major too?" she asked.

"No, he just acts like a child," Sam chuckled.

"Ha, ha," Dean replied while giving Sam a dirty look. "Actually, I didn't go to college. I just never had the desire to go."

"So what do you do for a living?" she asked.

"I'm the lighthouse keeper on Beaver Island he said with a smirk."

"Oh, so you're one of those guys."

"What?" Dean asked.

"Here today…gone tomorrow."

"That's not true. I promise to be here tomorrow, and even the next day for that matter. But I admit, I can't guarantee where I'll be several weeks from now."

"Got it," Tina said. "So, you mentioned something about swapping ghost stories."

"Yes I did. What have you seen out there while on your walks?"

"Nope, you two first," she said and stuffed a bite of food in her mouth.

"We saw a woman in a long blue dress with her hair in a bun walk out into the lake and disappear under the water," Sam said.

"But you could see through her if you looked hard enough," Dean added.

"That would be Elizabeth Brown. Her husband, Pete, went out on the water one day. A severe storm appeared out of no where and his boat sank. He died out in the lake. Elizabeth had a break down after his death and a week later walked out there and joined him."

"What year was that?" Sam asked.

"Hmm…I'd say some time in the 1920's."

"The man and the boy," Sam continued, "are they Michael and Daniel Fritz?"

"That's what most people believe," Tina confirmed.

"What about the other one. The mean one, who's that?" Dean asked.

"I don't know, and neither did my father. Most of the info I have on that place came from dad. Both my grandfather and my father lived there. It's been in the family for a long time, which is why I was hesitant to sell it at first, but in the end I have to do what was right for me. I never wanted to work a horse farm, nor did I want to spend the rest of my days being an islander wife."

"Why? What's so wrong with this place?" Sam asked.

"Nothing's wrong with it, it's just that every day here is the same. The boats come the boats go. The fish are caught and sold. The men complain about the weather and the women cook their little potluck dinners and raise their kids. Honestly, I've lived most of my life here and I just couldn't take it anymore. The minute I turned eighteen I hopped on that ferry and was off to college."

"How did your mom take your leaving?" Dean asked.

"My mom died when I was four."

"I'm sorry," Dean said.

"It's okay," Tina shrugged. "It was a long time ago. I barely remember her. If it weren't for pictures I honestly would even know what she looked like. But getting back to the lighthouse, have you seen Caleb yet?"

"Who's Caleb?"

"He's the ghost who haunts the lighthouse. He's an old guy who's always standing up there by the railing. In the evening when I walk past you can always see him standing up there, like he's keeping watch or something."

"We haven't seen him yet?" Sam replied. "Tell me, the land the lighthouse is on, is it old Indian ground or something?"

"No, why?"

"Well, it's just not usual for a place to have so many ghosts haunting it," Dean said. "I mean, the lighthouse seems to be acting like a beacon for lost souls."

"Even worse than that, the lighthouse seems to be killing people to create more lost souls for it," Sam added.

"So you think the lighthouse itself if evil?" Tina asked. "Is that possible?"

"Anything is possible," Dean answered. "Did you know the last keeper? John?"

"Yeah, I used to ride Buttercup over to see him about once a week. He was a nice guy. Then one day he's just gone, never to be seen again."

"Did he seem like the type to just leave like that?" Sam asked.

"No, not really. From what I know, he never even saw any of the ghosts. I'd asked him about it and he would just tease me and tell me not to believe in ghosts."

"Excuse me folks!"

Everyone turned to look at the Reverend. "I hate to interrupt the festivities, but the sheriff has asked that I make an announcement. The weather has taken a turn for the worse. The snowstorm predicted for tonight and tomorrow has been upgraded to a blizzard with up to twenty inches of snow possible."

Immediately the quiet hall erupted with chatter.

"Quiet please," the Reverend continued. "Bob has graciously offered to go and open the store for a couple of hours so everyone can get any last minute supplies they may need before the storm hits. So go ahead and finish your meals and then go across the street and run your errands."

"I guess that's my cue to leave," Tina said. "I need to get a few things before tonight."

"Will you be alright at your place all by yourself?" Sam asked.

"Are you kidding," Tina smiled. "I've lived here my entire life, remember. If anyone around here needs looking after it'll probably be you two."

"We can take care of ourselves," Dean said.

"Well, it was a pleasure meeting you both, and I hope I see you again before you leave in a few weeks." She shook both their hands.

"I'm all for seeing you again," Dean said with his cocky grin. Tina gave him a smile almost as flirtatious as his own and then walked away.

"Wow," Dean said once she was out of earshot. "Bro, nothing personal, but I really wish I was sharing a room with her tonight instead of you."

Sam didn't reply. The truth was he was pretty much of the same opinion, but then he remembered Jessica and how much he loved her and suddenly he felt guilty for even thinking of such a thing. He had been right when he told Laurie he wasn't ready.

"We better get going ourselves," Dean said. "We can grab some paper plates from the store before heading back."

"Sure," Sam said.

They both stood up and dropped their plates in the trash. Once outside they were surprised by how the weather had changed just in the past couple of hours. This morning the sun had been shining brightly and even though it was cold it had been a nice day. Now the sky over head was thick with gray, ominous clouds and the wind whipped the barren trees around wildly. It almost reminded Sam of what it would be like just before a tornado came.

"We need to get the lighthouse running, ASAP," Sam said. "The water is going to be rough, really rough with winds like these."

"You're right. Skip the paper plates." Dean pointed at the store and Sam saw a line of people literally going down the side walk. They didn't have that kind of time on their hands. The hurried to the car and Dean raced for the most deserted part of the island.

***

By the time Dean got them back to the lighthouse the first large puffy snowflakes were just starting to fall. Dean hopped out of the car and opened the doors to the shed. He wasn't about to let his baby get buried under twenty inches of snow. He motioned for Sam to drive the car in and then he closed the double doors behind him.

They hurried to the house to get out of the blistering wind.

"I'll go start the lighthouse," Sam offered.

"You sure?" Dean asked. So far the light house had kind of been his job.

"Yeah. Why don't you go play with the radio and see if you can get us a weather update."

"Okay. After that I'm going to haul in some fire wood. I have a feeling we're going to need to light some of these fireplaces tonight." Dean started walking to the small office that was upstairs next to the game room and Sam went to the back of the house and climbed all the stairs.

He noticed the climb didn't seem so bad this time. He stepped up to the control panel and turned on the light and then turned on the rotation device to make the lantern turn. He didn't turn on the fog horn since there wasn't any, and besides, with the wind blowing like it was, no one would have been able to hear it anyway.

He stood by the windows and looked out into the distance. The water was rolling violently and crashing onto the shore below. The swells were enormous. He never would have thought that a lake could have such large waves, but then these weren't just your average little lakes. Lake Michigan was a huge body of water.

He looked at his watch and saw that it was only three o'clock, but the cloud cover and the falling flakes made it seem much later.

"I love being here."

"Ahh!" Sam exclaimed and almost tripped and fell. He looked over to see and old man standing not to far from him. He was tall and slightly hunch back. Wire rim spectacles were perched on his nose and his clothes were from the 20's or 30's. He had a pleasant face and a contented smile.

"I've spent many a day and night standing in this spot watching the waves roll in and out."

"Caleb?" Sam asked.

Now the man turned to look at Sam. His face changed. The smile disappeared, his brows creased deeply, and his lips clamped together in a grimace. "You have to lure it to the light house. It's the only way."

"Lure what?"

"Lure it to the lighthouse. It's the only way." Then Caleb, who had seemed solid, began to fade slowly away until he was gone.

"Wait! You have to tell me more!" It was too late. Sam was alone.

000000

Dean dumped a second load of wood in the bucket next to the fireplace in their bedroom room. He marched down the stairs again. He pulled his collar tighter around his neck before going outside for another load of cord wood, this time for the living room fireplace.

The minute he opened the door the wind blasted him and caused the door to fly back and hit the wall.

"Crap," he grumbled. He grabbed for the door and pulled it shut. He moved as quickly as he could with the wind pushing against him to the side of the house and pulled out another heavy load of wood from under the tarp. Once his arms were stacked with as much as they could carry he hurried back to the front door.

He juggled his burden and grabbed the knob but it wouldn't turn. He tried again and realized he was locked out. He used the door and his knee to balance the wood as he dug around in his pockets for the key. He didn't have it. Of course, Sam had been the one to park the car. Sam had the house key.

Dean pounded on the door for Sam to let him in. After a minute Sam had yet to open it. Again he pounded.

"Come on, Sam. It's freezing out here," he complained. He beat on the door furiously. Still there was no Sam. He dropped the wood on the porch and moved to the window next to the door. He peered through the lace curtains. He couldn't see Sam. He rapped at the window.

"Sam! SAMMY!" he called. "SAM, LET ME IN!" As soon as the words left his mouth the wind carried them away.

He thought about breaking the window but decided against it. Then the house would be cold and he'd have to find a way to patch it up. He went back to the door and pounded once more. The door and even the windows shook from the force of his blows.

Damn it. Every time Sam needs me I'm there for him. Every time. The first time I need his help where the hell is he? He's up playing in the damn lighthouse and I'm out here fucking freezing to death.

The angry thoughts pulsed through his head. His fists curled and uncurled with fury.

"SAM, OPEN THE DAMN DOOR BEFORE I BREAK IT DOWN!" Dean beat at the door with his fists like a pro boxer beating on a bag.

Suddenly the door opened and before Dean could even stop it his fist connected with Sam's jaw and sent the younger Winchester flying back and falling to the floor.

"Sammy!" Dean gasped. In an instant his protectiveness kicked in and replaced the anger he had felt just a moment earlier.

He kneeled down next to Sam and helped him to sit up. "Are you okay?"

"What the hell did you hit me for?" Sam asked, rubbing his jaw.

"I didn't mean it," Dean protested. "I've been beating on that door for damn near five minutes, freezing my ass off. Where the hell have you been?" The anger returned to his voice. "How could you leave me out there like that?" he accused.

"Dean, I would never knowingly leave you out in a storm," Sam defended. "I was in the lighthouse. I didn't know you got locked outside. You have to believe me. If I had known of course I would have opened the door."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I guess I just got a little angry. Hell, it's my own fault. I should have double checked the lock before pulling the door too."

"I tell you what. Why don't you go sit in the living room and warm up. I'll bring in the rest of the wood."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to," Sam offered. "Really, you go sit, I'll finish up."

"All right, thanks."

Sam watched Dean go in the living room. He grabbed his coat and his gloves which were next to the door and shrugged them on. He rubbed his jaw gingerly one more time before he headed out. Wow, it was cold and the wind was blowing so hard. He could understand why Dean was so upset at getting locked out.

He collected the wood that Dean had left on the porch and then made a total of eight more trips in and out. He knew that getting the wood would be easier now than it would be come tomorrow. He hurried to the living room to dump the logs on top of the others which were now spilling out of the metal bucket next to the hearth.

"Sam I think we have enough now," Dean said. He was already working on lighting a fire.

"I'm just going to make a couple more trips," Sam replied. "Tomorrow the wood pile will be under twenty inches of snow."

"Good point," Dean replied as he held a lit match to the kindling.

"When I finish up I'll start on making us something for dinner tonight."

"Okay." Dean watched Sam head out into the storm once more. He felt a little guilty. Sam was doing all the work even after Dean had punched him in the face. He should at least go to the kitchen and find something simple to prepare, even if it was just a can of soup with crackers.

Then again, he was always taking care of Sam. Maybe it was time to sit back and let Sam take care of him for a while. It only seemed fair.

Sam filled his arms again and walked back to the door again. He was getting tired and his lungs were starting to burn from breathing the cold air. One more trip after this one and he'd be done.

He opened his mouth and made circles with his chin. His face hurt but not too badly. He had been shocked when Dean punched him, but then it had been an accident. Dean didn't know he was opening the door at that exact moment.

Back in the house he carried this batch of wood to the dinning room. He doubted they would be starting any fires in there, but there was another bucket in there that was empty and Sam decided to put it to use.

Sam headed for the door and as he passed the room where Dean was he saw Dean lying back in the sofa in front of the roaring fire. His feet were propped up on the coffee table and his eyes were closed as he relaxed. Sam smiled. He rarely got to see Dean like this…relaxed…unguarded. He hoped that over the next couple of weeks Dean could see that living a normal life wasn't that bad, that being settled and having a home could actually be a nice thing. He knew he would never get Dean to give up hunting, but he might be able to at least get Dean to be open-minded to the day when he might actually stop.

As he brought in the last load of wood and headed for the kitchen he realized that he had forgotten to tell Dean about Caleb and what happened in the lighthouse. Oh well, he could tell Dean during dinner. He figured he might as well let Dean take a nap while he prepared the meal.

0000000

"Dean, wake up," Sam called.

"Hmm, what time is it?" he asked as he rubbed at his eyes.

"It's going on five. Come on, I've got dinner on the table," Sam called.

Dean stood up and stretched out his back and gave a yawn. He followed Sam. Wow, something smelled good.

Dean entered the kitchen and saw that Sam had gone all out. The table was set and sitting in the middle was roast beef in gravy, mashed potatoes, and corn. Sam had made a ton of food.

"This looks good, but why did you make so much?"

"I figured we'd have the left over spaghetti tomorrow for lunch and then the leftovers from this meal tomorrow for dinner."

"That's good thinking," Dean said. He was still a little groggy from his nap.

He sat down and Sam set two beers on the table before taking a seat himself. Dean began to load up his plate. As he passed the potatoes to Sam he suddenly got a good look at Sam's face. There was a large bruise on Sam's left jaw line.

"Dude, did I do that to you?" Dean gasped.

"What?" Sam asked. "Oh!" He touched his face gently and then gave a shrug of his shoulders. "It was an accident. It'll fade away in a couple of days."

"I'm really sorry," Dean said honestly. "You know I'd never hurt you."

"I know," Sam replied with a chuckle. Dean had spent most of his life protecting him. If there was one thing Sam knew with absolute certainty, it was that Dean would never hurt him on purpose for any reason.

Dean shoved several bites into his mouth. "Hm, this is good. Thanks for cooking."

"No problem." Truth was Sam liked having the chance to do something nice for his brother. Dean was always the one taking care of him. It felt good to have the shoe on the other foot for a while.

"How deep is the snow?" Dean asked.

"Not that deep yet, maybe and inch or two. Speaking of snow, we're going to have to find the shovels."

"There's a snow blower in the shed," Dean said. "It's not to far from the snowmobiles."

"That's good to know. That'll make things a lot easier."

"You know, I can take those stitches out tonight if you want. The doctor in Stars Hallow said they could come out after a week. I think we're actually a day or two late."

Sam raised his hand to the side of his neck and felt the sutures. He had actually sort of forgotten about them. "Sure." He replied. "You'll have to remove the ones on my arm too."

"I'll get the first aid kit as soon as we're done eating," Dean said.

"Great."

0000000

Sam stretched out across his bed. He was actually really comfortable. Dean had removed his stitches and he was now wearing his sweat pants and a well worn and soft t-shirt. He had lit the fireplace in the bedroom and had a really good blaze going. It was making the room nice and toasty. The wind was blowing just as wildly as it had the previous night but the light and heat of the fire made the room feel safe and secure.

Sam was once again reading one of the books about local lore. Mostly it was repeating information he had already gathered. The rest of the book talked about famous ship wrecks or boats that had vanished without a trace. Apparently over the decades a many a boat had gone down in the waters around here, usually due to a severe storm.

The loud crack of pool balls crashing together let Sam know where Dean was. He was two doors down in the game room.

Sam closed the book, turned off the lamp, and rolled over in his bed to stare out the window. He could see the beam of the lighthouse travel over head and make its rotation around and around.

'One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four one thousand, five one thousand, six one thousand,' he counted in his head. It took the light six seconds to make a complete turn.

As the light traveled it illuminated the sky around it and Sam could see the giant flakes of snow falling fast and furious. The blizzard was no longer coming, it was officially here and it was quickly blanketing the area.

Another crack of the pool balls let Sam know that he wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon. He suddenly had an attack of the munchies. He remembered that Dean had bought Twinkies and Oreo's and all kind of yummy junk food. It was time to raid the fridge and the pantry.

He got out of bed and started down the stairs. Once more he heard Dean take a shot and then the sound of the ball rolling through the inside of the pool table. He had obviously pocketed that ball.

He continued on down the stairs, past the living room and dining room, and down the hall towards the kitchen door. He pushed open the swinging door and saw Dean sitting at the table with a pile of Oreo's and a tall glass of milk.

"Dean?" Sam gasped.

"Hey, I had an attack of the munchies," Dean grinned.

"But you were just upstairs shooting pool," Sam said.

"I haven't touched the pool table since I've been here," Dean said.

Without a word Sam turned and ran back the way he came. Dean abandoned his midnight snack and followed Sam up the stairs. Sam dashed into the game room and stopped. He looked at the pool table but there was nothing there. The table was empty. He could see all the balls were behind the little window inside the table itself. The sticks were all lined up neatly on the wall along with the rack.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"I swear something was in here playing pool. I was lying in bed reading a book and I heard you, or I thought it was you, cracking the balls together taking shot after shot."

"I believe you," Dean said. "Last night you were asleep and I was just getting ready to when the toilet flushed. I went to the bathroom and the tank was still filling itself up. Not only do we have ghosts, but apparently they like to keep busy."

"But what's holding them here. It's not natural for there to be so many here."

"I agree, and I don't know yet."

"Do you think it could have something to do with the light?" Sam said, thinking of the top of his head.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I was remembering the movie with the little girl, Poltergeist. The short lady, she kept telling it to go to the light. Maybe our ghosts aren't going to the real light because they're getting misguided by the lighthouse."

"Sammy, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

Sam sighed. Even he had to admit it sounded pretty stupid. "It was just a thought."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to go finish my Oreo's. You coming?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay."

Sam looked around the room one more time after Dean left. For ghosts they were pretty damn fast. They not only were playing pool but managed to put everything away in a matter of seconds. Oh well. He turned to leave but then stopped when he heard a noise.

He looked at the floor where the noise was coming from. Out from underneath the pool table came the black 8 ball rolling slowly towards him. The ball stopped rolling when it gently bumped into his foot. He bent down and picked the ball up to look at it. This place was strange even for a haunted house.

He set the ball on the table and turned for the door. He was almost out of the room when he heard something hard hit the floor. He looked back and once again the 8 ball was on the floor rolling toward him.

"What the hell?" For a second time Sam picked up the ball. This time instead of simply placing it on the table he actually put it in the pocket.

Again he turned to leave. Just as he was about to exit the room something struck him hard in the back, actually knocking the wind out of him. The he heard the familiar sound of the 8 ball dropping on the floor and rolling across the hard wood.

He rubbed his back and put pressure on the spot where he had been hit. God almighty that hurt. Sam kicked the 8 ball away from him and grabbed the handle of the door and slammed it shut before anything else could fly at him.

All thoughts of a junk food left his mind. He went back to his room with the cozy fire place and crawled into his bed. He looked at the floor real quick to make sure the circle of salt was still there. Satisfied that both he and Dean would be safe as they slept he made himself comfortable on his side and tried to wait for Dean to come back up but he slowly drifted off.

000000

"Damn it Sammy, I'm sick of taking care of your ass. I swear you're useless. Four years of college and you're still as stupid as you ever were!"

The words were as sharp and painful as any knife. Sam instantly felt his emotions rise.

"It wasn't my fault," he defended.

"It is your fault! It's always your fault! Well I'm sick of it! Do you hear me? I'm sick of it and I'm sick of you!"

Dean reached behind himself and grabbed something from the pool table. The next thing Sam knew Dean had the black 8 ball in his fist and he swung his hand toward Sam's head. The hard object struck Sam in the temple and he went down on all fours.

"No!" Sam called. He couldn't believe Dean had hurt him. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

"From now on I'm on my own. All you do is slow me down. You can't hunt. No matter what we go after I have to save you from it. Well no more! I always wanted to be an only child. Looks like I'm about to get my wish.

Dean raised his hand with the 8 ball once more and swung down as hard as he could towards Sam's head.

"NOOOO!"

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"NOOOO!" Sam sat up so fast and jerked so hard to deflect the blow that he actually fell out of his bed.

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed as he sat up in bed. He got up and moved to help his little brother.

"Stay away from me!" Sam cried. He pushed himself back against the wall farther out of Dean's reach.

"Sammy, you had a dream. You're okay now." Dean could see Sam was trembling. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Sam snapped, and then a little calmer he repeated, "no."

"Okay," Dean replied. "Was it a vision?"

"No, no it was just a nightmare. What I just dreamed would never happen," Sam replied.

***

"What would never happen?" Dean asked.

"Nothing."

"Sam, stop keeping secrets from me. I can't protect you or myself if you leave me in the dark. If something is coming then I need to know about it."

"Dean, nothing is coming, okay. I dreamed you were about to kill me. Like I said, it was a nightmare. That would never happen."

"Was it the shape shifter?" Dean asked.

"No, it was you and we were here, and you had that damn 8 ball. Tomorrow I'm going to bury that thing somewhere."

"Eight ball? What are you talking about?"

"Tonight after you left the game room the 8 ball attacked me."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know," Sam replied tiredly. "It was no big deal."

"Where did it hit you?" Dean asked.

"On my back."

"Get up," Dean ordered.

Sam stood up and immediately started to protest. "Dean, I'm all right."

Dean ignored him. He lifted the back of Sam's shirt and found a perfect round bruise just under Sam's right shoulder blade. Sam yanked his shirt out of Dean's hand and pulled it back down around his waist.

"It's just a bruise. I'm fine," Sam announced. He could already see the worry in Dean's eyes.

"I don't like the fact that these things keep coming after you," Dean said.

"Nothing is coming after me," Sam insisted. "We are in a haunted house connected to a haunted lighthouse. Of course we're going to run into the ghosts."

"Still, you're having nightmares again."

"I always have nightmares," Sam replied.

"Yeah, but they weren't happening every night. The past two months had been better."

"I didn't have a nightmare last night."

"But you had a vision this morning."

"Dean, drop it. I'm fine. You are totally making a big deal out of nothing."

"Maybe," Dean said.

"Let's just go back to bed. It'll be morning soon."

"Fine." Dean went back to his bed and climbed in with his back towards Sam.

Sam knew Dean was worried about him and that was why he got huffy, but he didn't want Dean to baby him. Sam really wanted to have the chance to prove himself here. He couldn't even explain why it was so important to him. He just knew that Dean was always taking care of him and now it was his turn to pick up some of the slack.

0000000

After a breakfast of instant oatmeal with raisins and maple syrup dumped in to make it taste like something, Dean and Sam bundled up in layer upon layer of clothing. They opened the front door and began to trek through the knee and even thigh high snow drifts.

"Dude, this is a lot of fucking snow," Dean said. "How the hell do people live like this all winter?"

"I think we're about to find out," Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, laugh it up, college boy, but let's see if you're still laughing after we finish shoveling all of this crap." Dean hated snow and the job that lay before them seemed endless. They need to clean out the driveway, the front walk, a path to the wood pile, and a path to the shed. This was going to take hours!

He was just about to open his mouth to complain some more when something hit him in the back of the head. "What the?" he turned to Sam only to have Sam hit him with another snowball to the chest.

"Sam! We don't have time for this!" Dean griped.

Sam ignored him and reached down to make another snow ball.

"Sam, if you hit me with that thing I swear you'll be sorry."

Sam just had this happy smirk on his face and let it rip. The snowball smacked Dean on the top of his head.

"That's it!" Dean charged Sam and the two fell back into a huge drift. Dean started grabbing handfuls of snow and throwing them on Sam's face. Sam managed somehow to get a little leverage and rolled Dean off of him and started throwing more snow at him. Soon both brothers were laughing and carrying on like kids.

"Okay! Okay!" Dean called, waving his hands in the air. "You win!" He fell on to his back and laid there for a moment trying to catch his breath from all the laughing.

"See, not everything about snow is bad," Sam laughed.

"I still say you won't be laughing several hours from now," Dean replied.

"Maybe not, but at least when we're done we can curl up in front of the fire with some hot chocolate."

"Hey, did you get marshmallows?" Dean asked.

"No, but we've got whipped cream."

"Okay, let's get up before our asses freeze in place and get this done," Dean said and climbed to his feet. He reached down and gave Sam a hand and pulled him up too.

Finally back to business they went in the shed and Dean passed Sam a shovel while he got the snow blower.

"Why do you get the blower?" Sam asked.

"Because."

"Because why?" Sam asked.

"Because I'm older," Dean replied.

"I want the blower," Sam said, handing the shovel back to Dean.

"I do the driving in this family," Dean replied and started the engine of the blower.

Sam tried to complain about getting stuck with the back breaking shovel but Dean just turned the blower up to full speed and drowned out any complaints Sam might have had. Dean flashed him his cockiest smile and headed for the door.

Sam sighed but took his shovel and followed Dean out of the shed. Dean started to work on the driveway so that once the plow came through he'd be able to get the Impala out. Sam decided he might as well start working on the path from the house to the shed.

After just five minutes of shoveling he had to admit that it was hard work. The snow was so deep that it took several turns of the shovel before he was at ground level. After a bit he managed to get into a rhythm and made quicker progress. By the time he reached the house he was huffing and puffing pretty hard.

He looked at Dean and saw that he was about a third of the way done with the drive. He was also having to work hard. The snow was so high that he couldn't just push the blower back and forth. He had to tilt it and come down on the snow and then tilt it back again for the next spot.

Sam thought about going inside and warming up for a bit but decided against it. The quicker they got it done the sooner they could both go inside and relax.

He moved to the other side of the porch and started shoveling a path to the wood pile. By the time he finished that jab he was really panting hard. His lungs burned, his nose was dripping, and his cheeks were frozen, as were his legs. He looked down and saw that his jeans were wet clean up to his thighs.

He knew it was time to go in the house before he risked getting frostbite. He followed the path he had just made back to the shed and then down the drive way. He tapped Dean on the shoulder. Dean turned to look at him.

"I'm going in for a while to warm up," Sam told him. "You should come too. We've been out here for over an hour."

"I'm fine," Dean shouted over the motor. "You go ahead though."

Sam shrugged but headed for the door. Once inside he pulled off his boots and shed his coat, hat, and gloves. He went to their room and pulled off the soaking wet pants and pulled on a pair of dry ones and then put on some dry socks as well.

He was about to go downstairs when he heard footsteps over head. Something was in the attic. He began to look for the stairs but didn't see a trap door in the ceiling anywhere. He opened what he thought was a closet door and saw it was actually a staircase. He searched for a light switch on the wall but there was nothing there. A window at the top let in plenty of sunlight so he was able to see pretty well.

The attic was full of boxes and cast off furniture. There was a pile of rolled maps, a dress maker's mannequin, racks of old clothes from other decades, even other centuries, and things draped in sheets. It would have been a perfect place for children to play hide and seek in.

Sam opened several of the boxes and began to go through the items in them. Much of it was junk. There were old magazines in there, books, dishes, and bolts of moth eaten fabric.

000000

Dean was still hard at work. He just wanted to get the job done. He looked back and saw that Sam must have still been in the house. He was taking a long time to warm up. Dean was cold too but he was still out here busting butt.

He turned off the snow blower and leaned on the handle bar for a moment to take a quick break. He looked back at the house. Covered in snow the way it was it looked like something from a magazine. The lights were on, smoke drifted up from the chimney, a wreath had been placed on the front door. Except for it being haunted, it was the nicest place he had ever stayed in.

He looked up at the sky. An hour ago there had been nothing but endless sunshine, now in the distance he saw thick clouds rolling in. He hadn't listened to the weather report this morning. He hoped another snow storm wasn't already coming.

Movement on the side of the house caught his eye. Something was by the wood pile, now out of sight. He followed the clear path around. He smiled when he saw what had caught his attention. It was a deer.

"Sorry fella, I don't have any carrots. Maybe I can have Sam find you something."

The deer jerk to attention and stood stock still. Dean listened carefully to see if he could hear what had frightened the animal. Suddenly the deer bolted through the woods away from Dean and the house.

0000000

Sam was about to close the box he had been looking through when something caught his eye. It was a small leather bound book. It looked very old. He picked it up and opened it. The Diary of Jessica Barrette. The name caught Sam off guard. Jessica. He felt a moment of grief swell up in him but pushed it down. This wasn't written by his Jessica. It had belonged to someone else. He flipped through the pages and saw the dates written at the top of each page. The book started with December 14, 1895. Wow, the diary was a hundred and ten years old. How interesting! He decided to take the book with him back down stairs.

A loud rumbling noise started vibrating across the roof. Sam looked up expecting to see it collapse in or something, but as the rumbling continued he heard the noise sliding down off the side. He knew what had happened, all the snow on the sloped roof had just slid off to the ground below.

"Aw shit," Sam mumbled. That meant the path he had just dug out was probably reburied under even more snow than before. He needed to get back outside and help Dean with the work. He was nice and warm now and Dean was probably wondering where he was.

000000

Dean looked up when he heard the rumbling. At first he didn't have a clue what it was but by the time he figured it out it was too late. Giant, heavy blocks of snow and ice began to pummel him from above. Dean fell from the weight as literally the entire roofs worth of snow fell on him and buried most of his body. His head was still exposed, thank god, and he struggled to climb out. He never saw the large chunk of ice that snapped off from the gutter three stories up, but he felt the impact as it made contact with the back of his skull. Dean collapsed face down in the snow and passed out.

000000

Sam pulled his boots back on and bundled up in his coat, hat, and gloves once more. He opened the door and realized that it was quiet outside. The loud motor of the snow blower was off. He saw the machine still sitting in the drive way. Dean must have finally decided to go in the house and have a break.

He went to the kitchen. He knew Dean wasn't upstairs because he had just come from there. Dean wasn't in the kitchen though. He walked to the living room. Nothing.

"Dean!" Sam called. When he didn't get an answer he figured Dean was still out side.

He left the house and followed the cleared path to the shed and looked inside. Dean wasn't there either, but both snow mobiles were still there so he hadn't left. So where the hell was he?

He stepped out of the shed and called loudly, "DEAN!" He waited. "DEAN!" He started walking back toward the house. Maybe Dean had been upstairs and Sam had just missed him. On the porch Sam finally heard something.

"sam"

Sam turned around and looked once more. "Dean!"

"Sammy."

Dean's voice was coming from around the house. Sam hurried to the wood pile. As he turned the corner he was shocked at what he saw. Dean was lying, almost buried, in the snow.

"Dean!" Sam gasped and hurried to help his brother. He kneeled down next to Dean and started to check him out. "What happened?"

"Uh, snow," Dean muttered. "Something hit me in the head."

"Did you lose consciousness?"

"I…I don't know."

Sam suspected he had. Dean seemed really out of it. Sam started unburying Dean and soon was able to help Dean roll over and sit up.

"Do you think this was an attack," Sam asked, "or did the weight of the snow honestly cause it to fall naturally?"

"I really don't know," Dean replied.

"Come on, we need to get you in the house," Sam told him. "You're freezing."

As if to prove Sam's words true, Dean let out two sneezes. Sam helped Dean to stand and then wrapped an arm around Dean when he wobbled and almost fell back down.

"I can walk," Dean insisted.

"I'm sure you can," Sam said. "Just humor me."

Dean begrudgingly let Sam help him to the house. As soon as they were inside Sam reached for the zipper of Dean's coat and tried to help him.

"Sam, stop it. I'm fine." Dean waved his hand away and then pulled off his gloves and unzipped his coat himself.

"You're not fine. You're dizzy, you're cold, and you have a head injury."

"Dude, chill out. It's a bump, not an injury. I'm not dizzy, and ten minutes by the fire and I won't be cold."

"If it were me right now you'd be making a fuss," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, well, what can I say? My head is harder than yours."

"You mean thicker," Sam mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing," Sam replied. "Why don't you go crash in the living room? I'll get you something hot to drink to help warm you up."

"Sam, don't mother me. I'm…achoo…just fine…achoo."

"Right. Now go to the damn living room and lay down. I'll be right back."

Sam headed for the kitchen, ignoring the scowl Dean was giving him. Dean didn't seem to realize how dangerous his situation had been. He was lucky Sam came looking for him when he did or he could have gone into hypothermia out there. Plus, something had hit his head hard enough to knock him out.

Dean got comfy on the couch and pulled the quilt that was draped over the back on top of him. Truth was, he was chilled to the bone but he would never tell Sam that. He didn't need to have anyone coddling him. He'd just warm up a bit, let the dizziness pass, and then he'd get back outside and finish up removing the snow.

Sam opened a can of chicken noodle soup and dumped it into an over sized mug. He added some water then stuck it in the microwave. He tapped his toes for the two and half minutes it took to heat it and tossed a spoon into the cup and took it back to Dean.

"Here, eat this," Sam said.

"What is it?"

"Soup."

Dean took the cup and blew the steam away.

"Just relax. I'll go and finish up the snow."

"I'll be out as soon as I warm up," Dean insisted.

"What ever," Sam said and marched outside. Why did Dean have to be so damn stubborn? Sam actually laughed at his own question. Because that was who Dean was. Life had made Dean the way he was and he would never change.

Outside Sam abandoned the shovel and grabbed the blower. He used the blower to clear the path to the wood pile once more and then did the walk. It was much faster this time around.

Finally Sam tackled the driveway. Like Dean, he had to keep tilting the blower back and forth to remove all of the snow. By the time he finished an hour later he was soaked in his own sweat and he was completely exhausted.

He put the blower and the shovel back in the shed where they came from and went back in the house. Once more he stripped down out of his winter garb and kicked off his boots. He looked in on Dean in the living room and found him sleeping again on the sofa. He picked up the empty soup cup and tossed another log on the fire before leaving Dean alone to sleep.

***

Next part of The Phantoms of the Lighthouse.

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