***
Sam sat in the small office listening to the weather report. His heart sunk when he heard that yet another storm was coming tonight and it was expected to drop and additional ten inches. Dean was definitely going to freak out when he heard that, especially after all the work they put in today. Still, at least it wasn't another twenty coming like yesterday.
Sam went to the kitchen and microwaved himself a plate of spaghetti and took it up to his room. He was starving after all the work he'd just done and he wolfed his food down in a matter of minutes.
He set the dirty plate on the bedside table and stripped his clothes off. He saw the clothes hamper in the corner and threw them in. The hamper was pretty full. He'd have to do a load of laundry, but that could wait.
He needed a shower in the worst possible way. He walked to the bathroom in his boxers and turned on the hot water and waited for the shower to get nice and steamy. He saw that Dean had put all their personal items in the bathroom already. He grabbed the shampoo bottle, the bar of soap, and a wash cloth.
He stepped under the powerful spray and let the water glide down his body. He turned his back to the spray and let the water beat into the sore muscle in his back where he got hit by the pool ball.
He took his time soaping up and scrubbing the sweat from his body. Because most motels had a check out time of ten o'clock he never really got to relax in the shower like he used to in school, so he was enjoying just standing there. The hot water was quickly removing any chill he may have had from working outside. He shampooed his hair and closed his eyes as he rinsed the lather out.
He stayed in the shower until the water literally began to run cold and then he finally stepped out and grabbed a towel to dry off. He walked over to the sink and picked up his razor. He hadn't shaved in two days and he was looking a little scruffy. Usually he just ran Dean's electric razor over his face but today he decided to have an honest to god shave. After that was finished he grabbed the scissors and chopped off a little bit of the hair on his forehead. He had done it before and he knew what he was doing.
Finally he walked back to his room and pulled out some clean clothes and got dressed. He laid the blue jeans he had been wearing this morning over the back of a chair so they could dry since they were still clean, just wet.
He should go downstairs and do a load of laundry but he decided it could wait until tomorrow. He flipped on the television and grabbed the remote.
000000
Dean awoke with a start. For a second he didn't realize where he was but the crackling of the fire quickly reminded him. Damn, this was two days in a row he had fallen asleep in the middle of the afternoon. That just wasn't his style. Sam was usually the one who needed naps because he nights were so messed up. He looked at his watch and saw it was almost two.
He sat up and stretched his muscles. He was glad to see that his head didn't hurt, but the back of his head was still sore to the touch. He stood up and walked to the window. He looked out and saw that Sam had finished all the shoveling. Damn, he hadn't meant for Sam to get stuck with all that work. Oh well, there was nothing he could do about it now.
He wandered into the kitchen and saw the pot of left over spaghetti and filled a plate and zapped it in the microwave. He dumped a small mountain of cheese on top and went to find Sam.
He had to admit, he like the concept of having a kitchen with food it in. Not that he was willing to give up hunting mind you, but still, a fridge was nice. Maybe he would buy one of those mini fridges they made for cars now. Since neither he nor Sam smoked they wouldn't mind losing the cigarette lighter in favor of a fridge.
Although how Sam would be able to continue cooking while on the road would be another problem. He guessed he would just have to enjoy this while it lasted.
He heard Sam laughing out loud and decided to go and see what was so funny. He found Sam stretched out on his bed watching a movie.
"What are you watching?" Dean asked.
"Hey, how's your head?" Sam inquired.
"It's fine," Dean replied. "So what's this?"
"National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation," Sam answered. "I've seen it before but it's still hysterical. Have you seen it?"
"No," Dean replied.
"I can restart it if you want. I'm only about twenty minutes into it."
"Sure, okay," Dean said and had a seat next to Sam on the giant sleigh bed. Sam scooted over and propped his pillows some more and got comfortable once again and then used the remote to restart the movie.
Dean set his empty dish on top of Sam's discarded one on the table and laid back too. For the next hour the two of them would bust out laughing every time Chevy Chase would do or say something funny.
"What are you doing?" Dean asked when Sam paused the movie.
"I have to go to the bathroom," he answered.
"So you stopped the movie for that?"
"I don't want to miss anything."
"But you've already seen it," Dean complained.
"Oh quit whining, I'll be back in a sec."
"I do not whine," Dean mumbled. Once more he stretched out his legs and arms while he waited for Sam to get back.
It suddenly dawned on him how normal their lives were at the moment. They had jobs, a house, and were watching a DVD relaxing in the middle of the day. Dean even had to admit that it wasn't totally awful, either. He definitely didn't want to spend the rest of his life this way, but having this short break wasn't all bad, except for the snow part. That definitely sucked. Still, over all he was enjoying the little bit of domesticity with Sam, and even better, Sam was really happy.
Sam came back into the room, hopped on the bed and turned the movie back on. Dean continued to watch the movie but every now and then he would glance at Sam.
"What?" Sam asked after the third time.
"Nothing," Dean replied.
"There must be something. You keep looking at me. Do I have food on my face or something?"
Dean laughed. "No, its…nothing, really." Dean turned back to the movie and again laughed out loud when the Christmas turkey suddenly imploded.
Sam looked at the turkey and hoped the one he was planning on cooking next week didn't come out looking like that one. As he watched the movie he realized he would have to think of something to get Dean for Christmas since the holiday was next month. It was too bad that they probably would be back on the road by the time Christmas came, but there was nothing he could do about that. It wasn't like he hadn't opened his presents in a motel room before, providing there had even been any presents to open that year. Most Christmases had been spent like any other day. Holidays and birthdays had just never been a priority to John Winchester. There had been no cakes and hardly any presents. He had never been allowed to believe in Santa or the Tooth Fairy or any of the other magical things that made childhood special. 'No Sammy, there isn't a Santa Claus, but we better hurry and kill the monster under your bed.'
Sam sighed and forced the depressing thoughts from his mind. It didn't do any good to look back. The past was the past and there was no changing it. Dean was right. He was 22; it was time to let it go. Of course that was easier said than done. But even if he couldn't change the past, he could make an effort to improve the now, and maybe even the future. He and Dean would always be hunters, but maybe he could teach Dean a thing or two about life. He could show him that things like presents and birthdays and watching movies weren't so bad. Maybe he and Dean could reach a compromise. They could still kill the bad things, but they could also do other stuff too.
"Those people are idiots," Dean laughed when the family suddenly got attacked by a squirrel. "It's just a squirrel. I mean, shot the damn thing and be done with it! At the very least just give it a good kick across the room. Hell, throw a blanket over it and then bash its brains in."
Sam grinned. Okay, he would have to take baby steps with Dean, but he was sure he could get his 'shoot first and ask questions later' brother to see that taking a day off every now and then could be a good thing.
When the movie ended neither one moved at first. Finally Sam ejected the DVD and put it back in the case.
"They have 'Home for the Holidays' here if you want to watch it. I saw it with Jess. It's also funny."
"When did you find time to study with all the movies you watched?" Dean teased.
"I'm good at multi-tasking," Sam joked. "Really, it was Jess mostly. She liked movies, especially funny ones. She used to love to laugh." Sam stopped talking as he became lost in the memories. He closed his eyes and immediately saw her face, her smile, the sparkle in her eyes. He was surprised when a smile came to his face instead of tears. It was the first time he had thought of her and remembered only the happy, and not the sad.
Dean realized Sam was taking a trip down memory lane and he didn't want to see his brother hurting again.
"Put the movie in," he suggested. "It's not like we have anything more pressing to do. Hey, you never made that hot chocolate you mentioned this morning."
Sam smiled at him. "I'll make it now. Then we can watch the movie." He walked out of the room.
"And bring back the Twinkies when you come!" Dean shouted.
"Okay," Sam called from the stairs.
Dean mentally patted himself on the back. Now that Sam had a task to do he wouldn't get all moody and depressed again.
He got up and threw another log on the fire and walked to the window. He was shocked to see that it was snowing again. It wasn't a blizzard, thank god, but still, large downy flakes were quietly falling from the sky. Actually, the seen out the window reminded him of a snow globe. It was quite beautiful.
He headed downstairs to tell Sam to look outside but there was no need. From the stairs he could see Sam standing in the open door way watching the snow fall.
"Hey," Dean called. "How are we supposed to keep this place warm if you leave the door open?" His voice sounded gruff but since he had a huge smile on his face Sam knew he was joking.
"The snow is so perfect it almost looks fake," Sam said.
"That's why I came down. I was going to tell you to look outside."
Sam pushed the door to and headed for the kitchen with Dean trailing behind him.
Dean had a seat on a stool while Sam measured and poured milk in a small pot on the stove. He set the fire and dug through the cupboards till he found the box of cocoa.
"Dean, I want to say thank you," Sam spoke up as he continued to make the hot drink.
"For what?" Dean's eyebrows shot up in curiosity.
"For bringing me here," Sam replied. "At first I couldn't understand why you took this job, at least, why you chose it now, this time of year, knowing we'd get stuck and all."
"Sam, I don't know what you're talking about," Dean protested. "We hunt ghosts. This place is haunted. Hence, our being here." He had no intention of admitting to Sam that they were here because Dean was worried about him and figured Sam needed a little bit of stability.
"The answer isn't that simple and you know it," Sam insisted.
"Then tell me, genius, why are we here?"
"Because of me," Sam replied. "Because of what happened in Stars Common."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Dean, you picked this place so I could have a break from the road," Sam stated. "And…I appreciate it. I'll be honest, that last job…hell, the last few months, it's…it's been a lot to take…all at once."
"Sam, don't go getting all emotional on me," Dean exclaimed. "I picked this job because people have died here. That's all. The end!"
"Okay, whatever," Sam finally relented. Dean wasn't about to admit the truth and have a girly moment. He poured the hot milk into the mugs and stirred in the chocolate. He passed one cup to Dean.
"What? No whipped cream."
Sam laughed. He walked to the fridge and pulled out the can of Readi-Whip and put a swirl in Dean's mug.
"Better?" Sam asked.
"Much." Dean took a sip of his chocolate and put the cup back on the counter. "So, you really like being here, huh?"
"Yeah, I do. I mean, I wouldn't want to stay here forever, but I am enjoying it for a while."
"Good," Dean said as he awkwardly nodded his head.
"Listen, why don't you go back upstairs and take it easy. You were knocked unconscious earlier today."
"I didn't get knocked out," Dean argued. "I was simply dazed that's all."
Sam ignored him. "I'm going to go get the light house turned on."
"It's not completely dark out yet."
"I know, but the snow is falling and the sun will be setting soon enough. I might as well get it done now instead of later."
"I'll come too."
"Are you sure you should?" Sam asked. "What if you get dizzy on the stairs?"
"Sam, I'm fine. You worry too much."
"I just want you to be okay," Sam said. It had shocked Sam to see Dean hurt earlier. Dean was supposed to be invincible. Dean never got hurt.
"And I am," Dean replied. "Let's go turn on the light."
Dean led the way to the stairs and true to his word, he climbed them fine. It only took a moment for them to get the light on once they made it to the top. Both of them stood at the window for a bit and stared out.
"I forgot to tell you!" Sam gasped.
"Tell me what?"
"About Caleb."
"Who's Caleb? Wait…you mean the ghost, Caleb? The one Tina was talking about?"
"Yes, I saw him last night. He talked to me."
"You talked to a ghost?"
"Well, we didn't have a conversation or anything. He was standing kind of where you are and he said he loved it up here. Then he looked at me and told me to lure it up here."
"Lure what up here?"
"He didn't say. But he was very adamant that what ever he was talking about, it had to be lured up here. He said it was the only way."
"Christ, what on earth does that mean?"
Sam was quiet for a minute. "I think he's talking about the other one. You know, the one everyone talked about as being the mean one."
"Okay, I get that, but we've yet to see this 'mean one', and if we're going to lure it up here then that means we need bait, but since we don't know what this 'mean one' is even after we don't know what to use for bait."
"Have you experienced anything odd since we've been here? I mean, I've had contact with Caleb, Mike, and Daniel, but unless the mean one is the one who threw an 8 ball in my back, I haven't had a run in with him yet."
"I think I have," Dean said.
"What? How? What happened?"
Dean took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I think it has been trying to confuse me."
Sam looked baffled. "I don't understand."
"For the last couple of days there have been these…thoughts…popping into my head, but they're not my thoughts. At least, I don't think they're my thoughts."
"What kind of thoughts?" Sam asked.
"It's not important."
"What do you mean it's not important? It's the first clue we have about this mean ghost. So what are the thoughts?"
"They're angry thoughts."
"You're going to have to tell me more," Sam insisted.
Dean was getting frustrated. How in the hell was he supposed to tell Sam that he was having thoughts about being angry at him, thoughts that Sam was a burden, thoughts of kicking his ass. No way, Sam would be devastated if he actually voiced it out loud.
"I can't tell you more," Dean said, "because I don't understand them myself. I just know that lately I've felt angry when I shouldn't have felt angry. The anger wasn't natural."
"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Sam asked.
Again, another question Dean didn't…couldn't…answer. "Because I wasn't sure. I'm still not sure."
Dean turned toward the stairs and started to march down them. He suddenly needed a little space. Unfortunately, Sam was right on his heels following him down.
"I don't understand how you can't be sure. Either something is affecting your thoughts or it isn't. So which is it?"
Dean entered the kitchen and continued right though to the hall.
"Dean?"
"I don't want to talk about this."
"I told you about my visions," Sam retorted.
"Yeah, after keeping them a secret for years!"
"Dean!"
"Damn it, Sam. I don't know! Now stop pestering me! You always want me to have the answers. You always want me to tell you what to do or how it's going to go down. Well sometimes I just don't fucking know! Sometimes I don't have the answers! Sometimes it would be great if you could just take care of yourself!"
Dean looked at Sam and immediately regretted his outburst. Sam was crushed. His brother actually looked as if he were about to be sick.
"Sam…I'm…I didn't…shit."
"No, it's okay," Sam choked out. He cleared his throat and continued. "You're right. I do rely on you too much. I'm sorry. Um, I'm…I think I'm gonna go and read for a while. You…you can watch that movie if you want. I'll probably watch it later."
"Sam, wait!" but it was too late. Sam was already dashing up the stairs. Dean watched Sam go into the single bedroom he had selected on the first night and close the door. Dean sat down hard on the stairs and put his head in his hands.
What the hell had just happened? Why did he say those horrible things to Sam? Especially since he didn't mean it! The truth was he liked taking care of Sam. Besides hunting the only other thing Dean truly knew how to do was be a big brother. Sam was his responsibility and he took it very seriously. He had to fix this. He stood up and climbed the stairs two at a time.
"Sam!" he called and knocked on the door. "Sam!"
"I'm busy," Sam called through the door.
"Sam, I'm sorry," Dean said. "This is what I was talking about. Something has been making me angry for no reason. I didn't mean what I said and you know that."
"Okay, it's all right. You know what, let's talk about it later."
"Sam, come on, open the door. Please!"
"If you don't mind, I just want to be alone for a while," Sam replied.
A new surge of anger welled up in Dean. "Sam, don't be a baby! Open the door. Let's talk about this."
This time Sam didn't even bother to reply. "Damn it!" Dean growled and punched the wall with his fist. He drew his hand back immediately and quickly checked his knuckles to see if he had broken any of them. They were sore but they were all right.
They had been having such a nice time. Why did this have to happen? Something was making him act this way. He needed to find out what this 'mean' ghost wanted and he needed to get rid of it. He wouldn't let this thing ruin the bond he had with his baby brother. Sam was too important to him to risk losing him again.
***
Sam sat on the side of the bed and wiped furiously at the tears in his eyes. He tried to squelch the angry words in his head. The ones the shape shifter had said to him mixed in with the cruel ones Dean had just spoken. Sam had always known he was a burden to Dean, but hearing the words actually come out of Dean's mouth tore at his heart. He didn't mean to be a burden; he just wasn't as good at this as Dean was. He never had been. His heart wasn't in it. Still, he would have to do better. He would have to try harder to not get in trouble or have Dean have to come save him. Dean needed a partner who was an equal, not one who needed help blowing his nose.
He saw the stack of books sitting in the corner. He hadn't bothered reading any of them since he got them that first day. At the very least Sam should be doing his fair share of the research. He owed it to Dean. He walked over to the pile and saw the diary he had found earlier today, when he was in the house resting while Dean was working hard outside. He decided to read that one. An eye witness account might be more helpful than oral stories passed down through history.
He sat back on the canopy bed and turned on the lamp since it was starting to get dark outside. He thought about lighting a fire in the fire place but decided against it. He'd just wrap up in the blanket and keep warm that way while he read.
0000000
Dean was downstairs pacing back and forth. He felt like he was at war with himself. The right side of his brain was arguing with the left side or something. One minute he wanted to go and beg Sam for his forgiveness, the next second he wanted to smack his brother up side the head for being such a drama queen. Everything you said tonight had been the truth one side said. Yes, but it was the way you said it, countered the other. You shouldn't have to coddle him and baby him all the time. But you've always taken care of Sam. Sam gives you a purpose. You were lost when he was in college. Still, if it weren't for Sam right now you would be on the road, hunting, fighting the good fight, not playing house. But Sam was hurt, physically and emotionally and he needed a rest. He needed this chance to be normal. He's a fucking pussy. He's loyal and trusting. So is a dog.
"STOP!" Dean screamed. He ran out of the living room and went to the lighthouse. He didn't know why but he knew he had to go there. Sam's words echoed in his head. 'Lure it to the lighthouse, it's the only way.' He tore through the kitchen and passed through the large wooden door. As soon as he crossed the threshold he felt the conflict in his brain stop. He breathed deeply and climbed the stairs all the way to the top. He collapsed against the light and sat in the floor.
He just sat there, trying to calm his breathing and his racing heart. He felt safe here. Even more, he knew Sam was safe as long as he stayed here. He stared out the window into the distance. He couldn't see very much and every time the light rotated around to his side he was blinded a little by the reflection off the windows. He didn't care though. He was going to stay here until he was sure he was truly in control of himself.
"You did right coming here."
Dean jumped and saw the old man standing there looking out the window. So this was Caleb.
"What's happening here?" Dean asked. "Why do I keep filling with rage?"
"It lives on the rage."
"How do we get rid of it?" Dean almost begged.
"Lure it to the lighthouse."
"How?"
"If your love is strong enough, you will know when the time comes."
"What? What kind of mumbo bullshit is that? Just tell me what to do!"
"Surrender," Caleb said calmly.
"What? If I do that I think...I think I'll..."
"You think you will kill him."
"NO," Dean screamed. "I would never! I don't care how angry this thing makes me! I would never ever hurt him. He's the most important thing in the world to me. I won't lose him. I WON'T!"
"Then surrender to it. Let it fill you. Only then can you fight it, if you're strong enough. Lure it to the lighthouse." Then Caleb was gone and Dean was alone once more.
000000
Sam continued to read the diary of Jessica Barrette. At first it spoke of her love for Jonathon, how excited she was to be marrying him, and how she planned to keep herself busy during the winter as they spent their first year together at the lighthouse. She was so happy, so eager to embrace her new life. He flipped several pages and found an entry that was dated a month later. She admitted that life here was hard, and she got lonely sometimes but Jonathon always found little ways to make her happy and to spoil her. Sam smiled at what were, once, tender moments recorded for over a hundred years.
Sam turned the page and saw a new entry. Jessica talked about how Jonathon rescued two men from the shore. Both were almost frozen and half dead. She and Jonathon spent the entire night tending to them and trying to warm them up. A new entry two days later said that the two men were Harold and Buddy. She didn't give a last name. She said that Buddy was pretty sick, but that Harold seemed to make a full recovery almost over night. Neither man knew how they came to be there or where they came from. They both had a bit of memory loss. Jessica said that Harold frightened her. He looked at her too long and too often. She was sure Jonathon had noticed.
He moved on to the next entry which was dated three days later. She told of how Harold and Buddy had gotten into an argument and that Harold attacked him. If not for Jonathon she was sure Buddy would be dead at that very moment. The next day's entry was written in a sloppy hand. Jessica told the story of how Harold went mad and he attacked Buddy once more. This time he actually snapped Buddy's neck with his bare hands. What were truly terrifying were his eyes as he did so. They had glowed bright red. Jonathon didn't see the glow. He was racing to get his hunting rifle.
Harold then turned on Jessica and chased her. She ran through the house and into the lighthouse. She mentioned how hard it was to run up the stairs while holding up the folds of her long skirt. When she reached the top she turned to see Harold right behind her. She was sure she was going to die. She closed her eyes and accepted her fate but then Jonathon arrived and shot Harold dead.
Sam turned the next page. He saw that the next entry was two weeks later. Jessica said she was afraid of her husband. Ever since he had taken Harold's and Buddy's bodies to the lake and set them adrift he had been different. He was suddenly angry all the time. He yelled at her for no reason and today he had actually struck her across her cheek. She didn't understand how he could suddenly be so cruel when she knew him to be a good and loving man. A week later was the next, and final, entry into the diary.
On this day I have done the unthinkable. I have killed my husband. He struck me when I burned the supper. I apologized to him but he only grew angrier. Suddenly we went for the ax which was close to the door. He had been chopping earlier. I took hold of his gun and I begged him not to make me do it. Dear Lord in heaven I begged and begged. He wouldn't stop. He still approached me and I did it. I pulled the trigger. God have mercy on both our souls.
Sam couldn't believe what he was reading. This woman had loved Jonathon so much. Then it was like a veil had been lifted from his eyes. Harold, or who ever he really was, he was the dark thing. He liked to go after the weak. He went after Buddy because he was weak. Then he possessed Jonathon because he thought Jessica was weak.
Sam wondered if this was what was happening to Dean. Was something controlling Dean, making him do and say things against his will? Was it coming after Sam because it thought he was weak? He wasn't sure, but he would definitely talk to Dean about it tomorrow.
He should go talk to his brother now, but he wasn't ready to face him yet. He was still to upset over what had been said. He turned on the small television set that was in his room and made him self comfortable for the evening.
000000
Hours had passed. It was night and Dean was exhausted. He was tempted to sleep here in the lighthouse but the thought of sleeping with no pillow, blanket, or bed wasn't appealing.
He was calm now and was sure he could control himself. He quietly made his way down the stairs and back into the house. Upstairs he could hear the tv on in Sam's room. He listened at the door and didn't hear Sam. He got on his knee and looked through the key hole. Sam was asleep in the canopy bed. The light was on as was the tv. Dean stood up and turned the knob. He figured he'd turn off the light and tuck Sam in.
He was shocked to find that Sam had actually locked the door. It really hurt to know Sam had felt the need to lock himself away from Dean. With a heavy heart he went to his room and went to bed.
000000
"Tom, mom is dead." he cried.
"It's okay now. I'll take care of everything," Tom said. "Come with me. We have to hurry."
Sam let his big brother take his hand and lead the way. He expected Tom to take him back to the house, but Tom led the down the path that went to the shore.
"Tom, where are we going?"
"Don't worry, Danny. Trust me."
"Okay," Sam replied, not even questioning why he was being called Danny. He looked at Tom and saw that he was starting to change, to look different. Suddenly he was no longer looking at a 13 year old Tom. The person holding his hand was a 13 year old Dean. Some of the fear Sam had been feeling began to fade. Dean was here. He was safe now. Dean would never let anything bad happen to him. He looked up at his brother and smiled. Dean smiled back down at him, all the while leading him to the shore.
Finally Dean and Sammy came to the end of the path and were at the snow covered beach. The edge of the lake was frozen but the ice only extended a few feet into the water.
"It's time, Sammy," Dean said.
Sam looked up at Dean with innocent and trusting eyes. "Time for what?"
"Time to die." Dean's eyes glowed red and he was suddenly lifting Sam up off the ground. Sam didn't understand but Dean's eyes scared him and he began to cry.
"Dean, put me down," Sam begged and kicked his feet at Dean's legs. Usually he was good at squirming out of Dean's arms but today Dean's grip was so tight.
Dean carried Sam to the edge of the ice and then tossed him into the frigid water. Sam tried to swim but his legs and arms were so small and the water so cold. His skin burned and prickled like a thousand needles were stabbing him. His heavy coat saturated and became so heavy.
"Dean! Dean! Help me!" Sammy cried. "Dean! Please!" He slipped under the water. He kicked for all he was worth and managed to get his head above the surface once more. He looked to Dean. Why was Dean doing this? Didn't he love him anymore?
Dean continued to stand there with his red and glowing eyes. Suddenly Dean jumped into the water too. Sam felt a moment of relief. Dean was going to save him. Dean slipped under the water and didn't return. Where did he go?
Sam's limbs were growing so tired. He couldn't stay above water any longer. He slipped under once more. He saw Dean floating in the water. His body was so lifeless but his eyes still glowed red. Sam's body screamed for air but there was none to be had. Suddenly he opened his mouth but it filled with water. The last thing he saw before everything went black was the red fade from his brother's eyes.
0000000
Dean was awakened by cries for help coming from Sam's room. As always he leaped from his bed and ran to Sam's door. He grabbed the knob but the damn thing was still locked.
"SAM! SAMMY!" Dean pounded on the door violently. "SAMMY! What's happening? Are you okay! SAM!"
Dean heard the lock being turned and he stepped back. The door opened and a terrified looking Sam stepped into view.
"Dean." The word was spoken almost like a prayer. "Dean...I know what happened." Sam voice was trembling and his body was covered in a cold sweat. "I saw it."
Dean led Sam to the room they shared and had him sit down.
"Tell me about your dream. Tell me everything," Dean ordered. Sam did. He told him about Danny and Tom, and how they morphed into them, but they were still children, and about the lake, and the red eyes, and about drowning and Dean's suicide. He told him everything in a hesitant and nervous voice.
"Dean, it was awful. It used Danny's love for Tom to lure him to his death. This thing, it preys on the weak. It turns one person against the other. Jessica's diary told how Harold went after Buddy, and then how Jonathon went after her."
"What diary?" Dean asked.
"The one I found in the attic. I read the whole thing. It possessed her husband and she had to kill him to save herself. Dean, this thing, it's going to try to get you to kill me."
"NO!" Dean grabbed Sam by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "That is not going to happen. I'd kill myself before I would allow myself to hurt you."
"Is that supposed to be comforting?" Sam asked. "We need to get rid of this thing before either one of us gets hurt."
"What do you suggest?" Dean asked.
"An exorcism."
"Sam, one usually performs an exorcism on a person. Who are we supposed to exorcise?"
"I was thinking we should try it on the house. This place, it isn't just haunted. It has been possessed by Harold. I don't think he was a real man. He was something else, something powerful. He died here, and his soul...spirit...whatever...is still here, in the walls, the floor, the very foundation itself."
"Fine, we'll do the exorcism, but if it doesn't work. If I'm still getting...angry...then we are out of here. We'll get on the snowmobiles and leave...agreed?"
"Agreed," Sam replied. He'd finally stopped shaking but the images were still so fresh in his mind.
Dean got Sam a drink of water and he crawled into bed. Dean then turned out the light and climbed into his own bed. He lay on his side so he was facing Sam. He wanted to be able to keep and eye on his brother. Sam was also lying on his side facing Dean
"Dean, I'm sorry if I'm holding you back," Sam whispered.
"Sammy, I didn't mean the things I said tonight. I swear. You have no idea how much I wish I could take them back."
"What you said was true though. I'm always messing up. You always have to come and help me out of some jam."
"We help each other. You're to down on yourself. Okay, so you've been in trouble a couple of times, but you've also been there for me. When I was arrested, you called in a 911 so I could escape. You realized that Laurie was wearing the silver necklace binding her to the Hookman. You saved her father from dying. You rescued me from the Wendigo. I was strung up from the ceiling like a side of beef. You had your neck sliced open and were bleeding to death and yet you still managed to burn the book and send the Horseman back to hell. You had the courage to look in the mirror and summon Bloody Mary knowing she would try to kill you. Hell, on that airplane I was totally freaking out. Not you. The plane is in the middle of a nose dive and you're still reciting Latin and banishing the demon. Sam, you aren't a burden to me. You never have been and you never will be."
"I…I never looked at it that way," Sam spoke softly.
"Well, you should," Dean stated. "I've never once felt that you didn't have my back."
The light in the room was very dim, but Dean could see Sam smile. The kid was just now realizing his worth, although Sam would never truly know what he meant to Dean.
0000000
Sam held the rope Dean had given him and stared at him. This seemed wrong, so very wrong.
"Come on, Sam. You have to do this," Dean insisted.
"But we've never done this for an exorcism before," Sam protested.
"That's because I was never the one something was trying to possess."
"But you said yourself that it's never actually possessed you. It's just tried to mess with your head."
"I'm not willing to take the risk," Dean said. "Now tie me to the chair already, and make the knots tight."
"But what if I need your help," Sam asked. "How can you help if you're tied to a chair?"
"Sam, you'll be fine. You can do this without me. You banished the demon on the plane basically all by yourself."
"I guess. Still, why don't you just go to the lighthouse? This thing doesn't seem to like it there. I think it's because Harold was killed up there."
"Sam, stop stalling and just tie me up." Dean was starting to grow frustrated. He understood this was awkward for Sam, but still, he wasn't willing to take the risk that he might hurt Sam if this thing used him to try and stop Sam from doing the exorcism.
Sam finally relented and started with Dean's hands. He tied each hand individually to a separate arm of the chair. Then he ran the rope around Dean's chest and the chair's back.
"Tighter," Dean said. "I can still move a bit."
"If I tie it any tighter I'll cut off your circulation," Sam exclaimed.
"Make it tighter," Dean repeated. He nodded his head in satisfaction when Sam complied. Sam stood up but Dean halted him.
"Feet too," Dean said.
This time Sam didn't even argue. He simply kneeled down and did as Dean asked, securing each foot to a chair leg.
"Happy?" Sam asked.
"Not particularly, but there's no way I can hurt you now. Keep going. We need to act fast."
Sam nodded. He grabbed the salt and made a circle around Dean and then he put the book in his lap so Dean could recite his lines. Dean wasn't performing the exorcism. Dean was actually doing a spell of protection in an attempt to keep the thing from moving in to his body.
"Okay, I'm going to start upstairs," Sam said.
"Be careful," Dean said. "Take the shot gun and some extra rounds of rock salt."
"I will."
"You got the holy water?"
"I've got it. Don't worry," Sam said. "We've done this a million times, right?"
"Right," Dean replied. Only Sammy had never done it completely by himself before. This was killing Dean. Yeah, he was tied up so he wasn't a threat to Sam, but because he was tied up he also couldn't watch Sam's back this time. His kid brother was truly on his own and Dean was terrified.
"Now stay in the hall way and bless each door, but don't go in any of the rooms or it'll shut the door and trap you inside one of them."
"I know," Sam said. His stomach wasn't suffering from a case of butterflies, it felt like he had a herd of elephants inside it jumping on a trampoline and if those elephants didn't stop jumping up and down soon he was going to throw up.
"Okay, I'll be back soon," Sam said.
"You better be because I'm not spending the day in this chair trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey."
The mention of Thanksgiving actually made Sam smile. Dean still didn't know about the surprise he had planned for him. He shook the thought from his head. He couldn't be distracted.
He stood up, placed the strap of the shot gun over his shoulder, picked up his book of Latin prayers, and grabbed the bottle of holy water. He marched up the stairs and started the task of reading the rites of exorcism. Over the top of each door way he would wet his finger with holy water and then use the moisture to make the sign of the cross.
Sam anointed the four bedroom doors first without incident. Then he did the door of the game room. Suddenly the bathroom door slammed itself shut. Sam walked across the hall and made the sign of the cross while reading the prayer out loud.
A noise from the game room caught his attention. He looked to see the pool balls suddenly rolling across the floor and entering the hallway. He backed away and moved for the stairs. Suddenly the number two ball leapt from the floor and went airborne, flying straight for his head. Sam dropped quickly and the ball sailed over him and fell down the stairs.
Before he could get up the five ball launched itself and made contact with his thigh. Sam grunted in pain but kept reciting. He tired to stand and run down the stairs but another ball was launched and this one connected with his arm. Again he cried out. He gave up on going down the stairs on his two feet and simply opted to slide down on his rear. He had to get off this floor. It was only a matter of time before one of them made contact with his skull and they were more than hard enough to kill him if that happened.
Sam continued to slide, half falling, down the stairs. He could see Dean stretching his neck trying to see what was happening.
Dean wanted to ask Sam what was happening but he knew to just keep quiet. Sam needed to concentrate. Since Dean couldn't help the best thing he could do was to not interfere.
Once downstairs Sam limped to the kitchen and continued the process of blessing the house and forcing the evil out. Sam moved as quickly as he could since he knew time was against him. He blessed the lighthouse door, the back door, the kitchen door that led to the hallway, all the while reciting Latin.
A wind began to blow through the hall and Sam had to squint his eyes against it. Dean also felt the wind swirling inside the house. They were definitely pissing it off.
"Sam, hurry up!" Dean called, not able to refrain from speaking.
Sam moved from door to door. The wind increased with each step of progress he made. Pictures began to fall off the walls, small statues and knick-knacks fell off tables and shelves. Sam blessed the dinning room door and then he moved to the living room where Dean was. He blessed the hall door and then headed to the front door.
As Sam approached the front door a loud growl was suddenly heard. The entire building shook from the vibrations of it. Sam was stretching his arm up to anoint the last door casing when suddenly the large wooden door swung open with such force that it slammed Sam into the wall and he crumpled to the floor.
"SAM!" Dean cried.
Sam was dazed. His head had connected with the wall and the door knob had made contact with side, but he still had his wits about him. He pulled himself up and continued to say the prayer. He was shouting now in order to be heard over the sound of the wind. The noise inside the house was deafening.
Dean was watching closely but it was hard to see and hear because of the force of the air as it whooshed around. Suddenly he was hit with a strong gust and his chair actually fell over on its back. He tried to get up but he couldn't move at all.
Sam made his way to the door once more, this time anticipating getting hit. Sure enough the door swung wide but he jumped out of the way and quickly made the sign of the cross above the door.
Once again there was a loud growling the reverberated though the house. The wind inside became a mini tornado that violently exited through the front door, slamming the door shut after itself. Sam had dropped to the floor and covered his head with his arms to avoid getting hit with anything.
All at once there was silence. No wind, no growls, no flying objects, just silence. Sam uncovered his head and looked around. The place was a mess but no real damage. He looked at Dean who was still lying on his back tied to the chair and saw Dean smiling at him. Dean's eyes were filled with pride and even though Sam hurt in several places at the moment he felt like he could fly.
"Well don't just lay there. Get over here and untie me!" Dean called.
Sam gingerly stood up and limped over to Dean.
"You're hurt," Dean noticed immediately. "How bad?"
"Not bad. Took a few hits is all," Sam said as he sat in the floor next to Dean and started to untie him.
With the chair on its back it was a little difficult to get Dean out but eventually his big brother was loose and he started lifting Sam's shirt checking for injuries.
"Dean, I'm okay, really."
Dean was inspecting the spot where the door knob had connected with Sam's side. Dean pressed his thumb and Sam yelped.
"Ou, what the hell are you doing?" Sam gasped.
"Trying to figure out how hurt you are. You're going to have a hell of a bruise here. Let me see your leg."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not taking my pants off. I got hit in the leg with a pool ball. It's not a big deal."
"You need to soak in the tub later. You're going to settle sore."
"I will," Sam said.
"You did it," Dean finally acknowledged. "You got rid of it. I knew you could do it."
"You were terrified," Sam stated.
"No I wasn't. I never doubted you."
Sam just gave him the look.
"Okay, so maybe I was a tad bit worried, but you did awesome."
"Thanks," Sam said. "I did, didn't I?"
"Yeah, Sammy, you did." Dean reached up and ruffled Sam's hair, which was as close as he was ever going to get to a show of affection, but Sam got the message loud and clear.
***
Sam was in the kitchen setting the turkey out to thaw. It had been six days since the exorcism and everything in the house had been quiet. The first day was a bit tense. For the rest of the day he and Dean had been walking on egg shells waiting for something to happen, but all had been quiet. Together they had cleaned the house and put everything back in its place where it belonged.
That night Sam had slept like a baby. No dreams, no visions, just a deep and restful sleep that had been invigorating. The next day he and Dean had once more removed the snow, this time with out any strange accidents, and together they had even built a snowman complete with a carrot nose and button eyes. Okay, so Sam had made the snowman while Dean "supervised". In the attic Sam had found an old scarf and a floppy hat which now adorned the snowman's head and neck. Luckily there hadn't been any more snow storms since then so they hadn't had to shovel anymore.
Dean teased him about the snowman, but later that day Sam had caught Dean staring out the window smiling at it. The next couple of days they had spent their time watching movies, playing Monopoly or Clue, and Dean had even convinced Sam to train and spar with him a little bit.
Sam had been impressed with himself. After being bested by the shape shifter he had been nervous to spar with Dean, but he had held his own pretty well, although part of him suspected that Dean had been holding back a little.
Now he was reading the recipe for the turkey and he was even going to peel the potatoes and leave them in a bowl of water to have them ready for boiling tomorrow.
"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed as he came busting into the kitchen. "Sam!"
"What?" Sam asked.
"The plow just came through," Dean announced. "We can pack up and leave now." Dean was smiling ear to ear and thought Sam would be happy too, but instead, Sam's face seemed frozen in place, like he had just been given the worst news ever.
"What? What's wrong?" Dean asked. "Did something happen?"
"No, uh, no." Sam turned and put down the potato peeler and the potato that had been in his hands. "Okay, uh, yeah. Great! I guess I'll go and start packing."
"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean asked.
"Nothing," Sam lied. He knew Dean had been anxious to leave. The last two days he had grown a bit restless. Once a job was done he was always ready to leave. The snow had been the only thing keeping him there now that the place was spook free.
"Excuse me," Sam said and walked out of the kitchen.
Dean didn't get it. He thought that after all this time Sam would be ready to go, but instead he looked like a kid who'd just lost his puppy. It was time to go, though. The house was safe now. Their job was done. They needed to get back on the road and keep looking for Dad.
Dean kicked the chair leg lightly with his toes and glanced at the kitchen counter. That's when he saw the frozen turkey sitting on the counter top, and a small pile of potatoes waiting to be peeled. Also on the counter was a frozen pumpkin pie.
Dean's brain started to put two and two together. He looked at the calendar on the wall and suddenly realized the date. It was the day before Thanksgiving and Sam had planned to go all out for the holiday, and now Dean was about to ruin it for him. He sighed and wiped his brow with his hand. Hell, they could stay one more day, he guessed. He hurried up the stairs and walked into their room. Sam was already stuffing things into his duffle.
"You know, I was thinking. We don't have to leave this very minute," Dean said with a shrug. "How about we leave Friday morning? It makes sense. This way we'll have worked two whole weeks each and we'll get paid for both. That's $600 for each of us. Add $1,200 to the left over money from the reward we got and we'll be solvent for a long time. How does that sound?"
Sam's face lit up with an enormous smile. "That sounds great," he replied. He walked out of the room and went back to the kitchen.
Dean smiled. He was feeling pretty good with himself. The truth was Dean was more than ready to get out of here, but Sam was happier than he had seen him in a long time. For the past week he hadn't mentioned Jess even once. He'd been nightmare and vision free, and he was always smiling or joking about something. For the past week Sam had been the loveable kid Dean remembered from years ago. It had been nice to have back the real Sammy as opposed to the moody and emotional one that had been riding around in the car for the past several months.
Dean walked down the stairs whistling a tune. Maybe they couldn't leave the house today, but the road was open and his baby hadn't been driven in almost two weeks. He hurried back to the kitchen where Sam was once again working.
"Come on, Sammy," Dean called.
"What?"
"We're going to town."
"Dean, I have stuff to do," Sam said.
"Do it later." Dean tossed the potatoes into the bowl of water and put the pumpkin pie back in the freezer.
"Now let's go," Dean literally grabbed Sam by the arm and pulled him towards the front door.
"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Sam laughed. Actually, it would be nice to get out for a while.
The two put on their coats, hats, and gloves and headed out to the shed. Dean pulled open the double doors and ran his hands lovingly over the hood of his car. Sam smiled at Dean's predictable behavior. The two got inside and Dean made a point of revving the engine several times before finally putting it into drive.
Dean was beaming at being able to drive once more. He took the turns carefully since the roads were still slick even though they had been plowed. About forty five minutes later they pulled into town and parked in front of Clara's.
"See, you don't have to cook dinner tonight," Dean said with a smile.
"That's good since I'll be cooking up a ton of food tomorrow," Sam replied.
"I know. I figured it out that you were making Thanksgiving dinner."
"I was hoping to keep it a surprise but I should have known you would have seen me cooking and getting things ready."
They went into the diner and were glad to see that it was actually a nice place and the food smelled really good. They had a seat in a booth and took off their coats and stuff. A middle aged woman came to take their order.
"Hi, what would you like to drink?"
"Two cokes," Dean said as he accepted the menus from her.
"Coming right up."
Sam looked at the menu and was pleased with the selection. He decided to get the roast beef dinner with all the fixings.
The waitress returned and Sam placed his order. Dean, as was his custom, ordered a cheeseburger and fries. Sam just smiled without commenting.
"Hmm, grease," Dean said. "I can't wait! Don't think I haven't noticed that for the last two weeks you've been cooking nothing but healthy food."
"Someone has to get more than just greasy burgers and greasy fries into you," Sam laughed. "Besides, you've been eating everything I've been putting in front of you, without complaint I might add."
"Well, if there's one thing I've learned over the years it's not to look a gift horse in the mouth. If you're willing to cook it, I'm more than willing to eat it."
The two sat in comfortable silence and just looked out the window at the people and cars going by. People were walking around carrying big bags and large packages. They were either buying the final touches for Thanksgiving tomorrow or they were already starting their Christmas shopping.
"We should go to the store after this and get our paychecks," Sam remembered.
"Oh yeah! Wow, I don't think I've ever received one of those before…at least, not honestly."
"Well I hope it's a good experience for you. It's nice to earn money the real way instead of hustling pool and gambling."
"Ah, but you forget, I like hustling pool and gambling, not to mention I'm damn good at it."
Sam just rolled his eyes and gave up. Some things he would never change.
After dinner Sam and Dean walked across the street to the store. They picked up their checks and were surprised to see that even the checks that they were supposed to receive on Friday were already there because of Thanksgiving and the bank being closed. Bob, the manager of the store was nice enough to actually cash them for them and gave them their $1,200 in cash.
"You have to admit," Sam said, "That this is pretty good money for just two weeks work."
"It's only good because we both collected pay and because we get to live at the lighthouse almost for free," Dean said.
"When was the last time you earned $600 from hustling pool?" Sam asked.
"Sam, I've had nights where I've earned a grand after about three hours," Dean told him.
"Fine," Sam replied. "I still think it's nice to earn some honest money."
"Sam lets just agree to disagree on this one, okay."
"Okay."
"I don't see why you're making such a big deal of it anyway. I'm usually the one who gets us money when we need it. Your conscious is clean."
Sam shrugged. Actually, what Dean didn't realize it that it bothered him that Dean felt the need to provide for Sam since Sam wasn't willing to hustle or scam. It was just one more responsibility that Dean had to deal with.
"How about we split up and do a little shopping?" Dean suddenly said. "I wanted to go look at rifles."
"I'll come," Sam said.
"Uh, I may be a while. Why don't you go look at movies or something? Find us something to watch tomorrow night after we have Thanksgiving dinner."
"Okay, if that's what you want," Sam replied and walked off in a different direction.
Dean headed towards small electronics. He needed to get something for Sam and he knew exactly what he wanted. He found the one he was looking for and grabbed it. He hurried to pay for it and then ran out to the car and stuffed it in the trunk under his battle ax. Then he ran back in the store so Sam wouldn't know what he had done.
He saw Sam standing in the checkout lane. He walked up calmly. "So what are you getting?"
"I got The Shinning," Sam announced. He knew it was one of Dean's favorites.
"Sweet, I get to watch my man Jack," Dean responded in a rather pathetic immitation.
"Plus, somehow it seemed oddly appropriate considering where we have been living and the job we've been doing."
"Ain't that the truth," Dean smirked.
"What about you? Did you see any rifles you liked?"
"No, there was nothing there that was any better than the guns we already have."
Sam paid for the movies and they finally headed back to the car to head home.
000000
Back at the house Dean actually helped Sam do some of the prep work for the big dinner. They decided to go ahead and watch the movie after they turned on the lighthouse. That night they had so much fun watching the movie and eating junk food that Dean forgot to listen to the weather report.
Dean was in the process of stuffing a third Twinkie in his mouth when he looked over and saw Sam was asleep. He smiled at how darn cute Sam looked when he was sleeping. He was laying on top the covers hugging a pillow to his chest and his hair was hanging over his eyes.
Dean grabbed the remote and paused the movie so they could continue it tomorrow. He clicked off the light and somehow managed to get Sam under the blanket. Sam rolled on to his side and snuggled down with a sigh.
"Sleep well, Sammy," he whispered and then went to sleep him self.
000000
The next day Sam was in the kitchen cooking up a storm. The turkey was in the over with about another forty minutes to go and the mashed potatoes were done. He had cooked the box of Stove Top stuffing and it was also sitting on the back of the stove.
Somehow when Jess used to cook all this she managed to time it so that everything was finished at the same time. Sam couldn't figure out how she did that. He was basically making one thing at a time and then figured he and Dean could reheat the food in the microwave when everything was done.
He looked at the timer and saw the pumpkin pie had only ten more minutes to bake before it was done.
He grabbed a tissue and blew his nose. He wasn't feeling all that well. He had been fine last night but today his throat was raw, his head hurt, and his nose was stuffy. For the most part he was trying to ignore it, though. He didn't want anything to spoil his and Dean's first Thanksgiving.
He washed his hands and then opened the tube of crescent rolls. He rolled them up and put them on a cookie sheet. He would have to wait for the pie to finish before he could put the rolls in the over.
"Okay, bro, when is the food going to be done?" Dean asked as he walked in the kitchen. The house smelled so good it was driving him crazy. He had skipped breakfast and lunch cause he wanted to save room for the turkey dinner.
"Give me another hour," Sam answered.
"An hour! Dude, you've been cooking forever."
"Give me a break. This is my first time doing this all by myself."
"Oh all right,"
Sam let out a cough and sniffed his nose.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam replied.
Dean stuck his finger into the pot of mashed potatoes and shoved a blob of potatoes into his mouth.
"Hey! No sampling," Sam insisted.
"Sammy, I'm starving here."
"I don't care. You're just going to have to wait. Go watch the football game or something."
"Fine," Dean grumbled and left the kitchen. As he passed the window he noticed that it had started snowing lightly. He didn't think much of it, though. The sky was pretty light out and the flakes were small.
He went upstairs into the game room. He wasn't in the mood to watch football. He would sometimes watch a game if he was in a bar, but otherwise he really didn't watch sports.
He grabbed a pool stick and racked the balls. He might as well practice his hustling while he waited for dinner to finish, and now that the pool table was no longer haunted.
000000
Sam laid out the placemats and the cloth napkins; he lit the candles and poured wine into the glasses. He had to laugh, it almost looked like a romantic candle lit dinner for two, but obviously it wasn't. He started carrying food out to the table and set the bowls and serving utensils down. He had nuked some of the food in the microwave to make it nice and hot again. The rolls were a little too brown but other wise everything looked awesome.
Sam left the dinning room to call Dean and caught a glimpse outside. The snow was falling incredibly fast. Sam didn't even know it was snowing. He had been too busy and the weather was surprisingly calm considering how fast the snow was falling. There was almost no wind at all.
Sam hoped this would be a short storm with just a couple of inches. Dean would freak if they got snowed in again. There was nothing Sam could do about it now. He stepped to the bottom of the stairs and called Dean to dinner.
Dean came bounding down the stairs and joined Sam. Sam put on a happy face hoping Dean wouldn't look outside.
"God, it smells awesome," Dean said and followed Sam into the dinning room.
Sam wished he could smell more of it. His head was getting more and more congested and it was truly beginning to ache.
Sam waited to see Dean's expression when he saw the meal on the table with the decorations. Dean didn't disappoint him. His face lit up and he looked at Sam.
"You did good, Sammy."
"Thanks," Sam said. "Have a seat. Let's eat before it gets cold."
They had a seat and started loading their plates. For the first few minutes neither said anything, they just savored the good food. Finally Dean spoke up.
"That's it, I'm gonna find a way to put a stove in the Chevy."
"Good luck with that," Sam laughed, glad that he had made Dean happy.
"Pass the butter," Dean asked, and then slather a crescent in it. "More gravy, too."
"Do you remember ever doing this with mom?" Sam asked.
"I have this…vague…memory. I don't know if it was actually Thanksgiving, but I do remember sitting around the table with you and mom and dad, and then grandma and grandpa. I remember it because I was dressed up and my shoes hurt my feet something terrible."
Sam smiled. "I wish…I wish I had some memories of her. I've spent my life hunting her killer but I don't know her."
"She loved you," Dean said. "I remember when you came to the house from the hospital. I was so jealous. Mom was spending all her time with you. There was a rocking chair in your room and she would sit and rock you for hours." Dean got a far off look on his face as he continued.
"Sometimes I would come in your room and wiggle my way onto mom's lap and then I would be sitting on one side and you would be on the other. She had this song she used to sing to us. It was a lullaby of sorts but for the life of me I can't remember the way it went. It would always put you to sleep though. After she died and you would cry I remember singing it too you and just like before you would stop crying, of course mom had a better voice than I did."
"Why are we just now talking about this?" Sam asked.
"What do you mean?" Dean asked.
"It's just that, I know there must have been good times, good memories, but we never talk about it. There's stuff I want to know, but Dad would get frustrated the minute I would start to ask questions, and until recently, I couldn't even talk about this stuff with you."
Dean felt bad for Sam. Sam had never known a mother's love, or a father's kindness. There had been no piggy back rides for Sam, no trips to the circus. Dean had had an incredibly short childhood, but still, he had had five and a half good years. Some of the memories were a blur after so much time had passed, but the ones he still had were wonderful.
"I'm sorry, Sam. You're right, you deserved to know. I guess for so long it was just hard to talk about it, especially since Dad never wanted to talk about the past. Somehow it became easier to just live in the moment, particularly when it might be your last considering our line of work."
"That was another thing I never understood," Sam said. "I know Dad loved us, and everything he did was to keep us safe, but Jesus Christ, when I think about the things he had us doing, it blows my mind. I swear, sometimes I don't know how either of us lived to see our tenth birthdays."
"Well, that one's easy. I was naturally talented and you had me watching out for you," Dean explained as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world.
Sam smiled. "Yeah, yeah I did. Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
They went back to eating and stopped talking about the past before either of them had the chance to become melancholy. So far it had been a wonderful Thanksgiving and neither of them wanted to spoil it. Soon both of them were stuffed.
"God, I can't believe how much I ate," Sam groaned.
"I ate twice as much as you did," Dean said, adjusting the waist of his pants slightly, which caused Sam to laugh.
"What?"
"Nothing, it's just that you looked like Al Bundy for a moment there," Sam chuckled.
"If I'm Al then that makes you Peggy," Dean teased.
"Peggy couldn't cook," Sam pointed out.
"Yeah, your right. With that shaggy hair of yours I guess you look more like the dog, Buck, anyway."
Sam picked up a crescent roll and bounced it off Dean's head.
"I'll give you that one, but if you throw any thing else at my head you'll be wearing this turkey like Monica from friends."
"Since when do you watch Friends?" Sam asked.
"Hey, Jennifer Aniston is a babe!"
"Uh!" Sam moaned as he leaned back to give his stomach more room. "I guess I should start on the dishes." Sam was tired and dreaded the clean-up work.
"I say we dump them in the sink and worry about them in the morning. We can get them done before we leave."
"I think I'll take you up on that idea. I'm beat."
"You're coming down sick, aren't you?" Dean asked. "I can hear it in your voice."
"It's just a little cold," Sam said. "Stuffy nose, nothing more."
Sam stood up and began to collect the dishes and bowls of food. Dean helped to carry items to the kitchen. Sam wrapped the bowls with plastic wrap and put them in the fridge while Dean rinsed off plates.
"I forgot the candles," Sam remembered. He went back in the dinning room and blew them out. He was about to return to the kitchen when he felt someone lightly touch his shoulder. He turned, expecting to see Dean, but he was alone. Quickly he looked around. He waited to see if something else happened but the room was quiet. Had he imagined it? The room wasn't cold. He didn't smell any ozone. He must have imagined it. He shook his head and laughed at himself.
000000
Several hours later Sam was stretched out across his bed. He was having a hard time getting comfortable. One minute he would be cold so he would pull the blanket over him, the next minute he was burning up so he'd kick the blanket off of him. He had been doing this little wax on wax off pattern for about an hour now.
He wondered where Dean was but he didn't feel like going to find him. He was flipping through the tv channels and stopped when he saw It's a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving was just coming on. His attention was drawn to the window when the wind howled and caused it to rattle. Sam had noticed that the weather was getting progressively worse as the hours ticked by.
He started coughing from the slime that was running from his nasal passages down the back of his throat. He coughed so hard that he actually gagged. He wished he had some type of decongestant to take for his head. Unfortunately the house was void of any medicines. Even their first aid kit only had Tylenol for pain. Dean had some left over Vicadin pills in there from a previous injury that had required a doctor's help, but that wouldn't help him.
He focused his attention back on the tv and listened to Charlie Brown complain about Peppermint Patty to Linus.
000000
Dean was in the lighthouse turning on the lantern. He had listened to the weather report and was dumbfounded by the ironies of life. He had wanted to leave on Wednesday. He had been totally stoked that they were free again. The road was finally clear after being stuck for almost two weeks, but he had agreed to stay till Friday because Sam had wanted to celebrate the holiday.
Now, a brand new blizzard was hitting them. He estimated that about six inches of snow was already on the ground and the weatherman was reporting that another fourteen to eighteen inches were due to fall by morning.
They had had a window of opportunity and they missed it. Now they would probably be stuck here for another week, possibly even two! There would be no way the car could drive through twenty or more inches of snow. Dean wasn't just frustrated, he was actually angry. Sometimes life just really sucked and this was one of those moments.
He stood at the window watching the snow fall, swearing under his breath. Finally he turned and went back down the stairs. Looking out the window was depressing him.
In the kitchen he grabbed a piece of pumpkin pie and put a spoonful of Cool Whip on top of it. He headed up to his room.
'I hope Sammy enjoyed his freaking meal,' Dean thought. 'Now we're trapped once more because Sam had wanted to pretend to be normal for another day!' Dean entered the bedroom and saw Sam lying on his bed.
"I just got the weather report," Dean announced.
"And?"
"And…we are now stuck here…again! Another fucking blizzard is pouring down on us. They're predicting almost two feet of snow by morning. There's no way we can get out of here without getting the car stuck somewhere."
"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said sincerely. "I never dreamed that staying two more days would have led to this."
"Oh come on, Sam. You love this," Dean bitched. "You probably wouldn't care if we did stay here until spring."
"Dean, I swear, I never meant for us to get stuck here again. I promise, as soon as the plow comes through again we're out of here."
"Damn straight we are," Dean stated.
Sam broke into a coughing fit. He really wasn't feeling well but he didn't want to make a big deal out of it. Dean was no longer in a good mood.
Dean sized up his brother. You didn't have to be a doctor or a rocket scientist to figure out that Sam was coming down sick, really sick. His color was off, his eyes were grayish, and his nose was red. Add in the nasally voice and the coughing and yeah, Sam was officially sick. 'Great, not only are we stuck here again, but now I'm going to have to play nurse maid for a sick little brother.'
Dean was genuinely frustrated by the circumstances, which was why he didn't even realize that he was probably a little angrier than he should be.
***
Dean awoke the next morning with a jolt. He wasn't sure what had awakened him but then he heard Sam's deep wracking coughs and he knew. He climbed out of bed and walked over to Sam who was huddled under his covers. Sam was shivering and sweating at the same time.
"Sammy," Dean gasped as he placed his hand on his brother's forehead. Oh shit, Sam was burning up.
"D…Dean…I don't feel…so well," Sam sputtered and immediately started coughing again.
"Sam we have to lower your fever," Dean said. "I'm going to go get you some Tylenol and run a bath of cool water."
"Just the pills," Sam said. "No bath."
"Sam," Dean started.
"Dean, please," Sam begged.
"Okay, fine, but if your fever doesn't break then I'll carry you to the tub."
Sam just nodded his head with his eyes closed.
Dean grabbed the first aid kit in the bathroom and dug through it till he found the pills. They had absolutely no cold medicine. He searched the cabinets in the bathroom hoping to find something left over from previous people but there was nothing.
He grabbed a glass of water from the bathroom and hurried back to Sam. Dean pulled Sam into a sitting position and offered the meds and water to Sam. Sam swallowed them down and dropped back onto the bed.
"Sit up," Dean ordered.
"What?"
"Sit up." Once more Dean pulled Sam up and then he placed his ear to Sam's back.
"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked.
"I'm listening to your lungs. Bro, they don't sound so good."
"It hurts to breath," Sam admitted. "My throat is on fire."
"Okay, you just stay in bed," Dean told him. "I'll go and get you some breakfast."
"Not hungry," Sam replied.
"You need to eat something," Dean told him. "You have to keep your strength up."
Sam knew he was right. "Toast…just some toast."
"Fine," Dean said.
He went downstairs and into the kitchen and pulled out the loaf of bread only to find that it was covered in mold. "Great," Dean complained. "Now what?" He remembered the rolls from yesterday's dinner. He went in the fridge and grabbed two of them and warmed them in the microwave. Then he put some butter and strawberry jam on them. The last thing he did was pour Sam a cup of coffee.
Back upstairs he found Sam the same way he had left him. Dean put the food on the table and Sam sat up. Dean positioned Sam's pillows so Sam could sit up in bed and eat.
"There was no toast but I got you the next best thing," he said.
"Thanks," Sam replied. He took the plate from Dean and the rolls looked really good even though he had no appetite at all.
Dean turned on the tv and the news was on. There stood the weatherman talking about the newly fallen twenty-six inches of snow and how this was the snowiest November in Michigan history for the top of the mitten. The weatherman recommended people stay inside since there would be below zero wind chills outside.
Dean sighed. This isn't what he wanted to hear. He needed to get out of this place, although one look at Sam and it was really evident that even if the roads were open Sam couldn't go anywhere.
Dean flipped the channel and found some Lifetime movie playing and passed the remote to Sam. Then he built up the fire in the fireplace.
"Okay, you finish your breakfast and get some rest. I'm gonna go outside and see if I can tackle the driveway."
"Dean, maybe you should stay inside. You heard the weatherman. It's too cold outside."
"I'll put on some extra clothes. The job has to get done. I really have no intentions of staying here till Easter. If another storm comes before that mess is cleaned up we really will be fucked."
"I'm sorry," Sam said. "We should have left Wednesday."
Dean was tempted to agree with him but Sam looked miserable. "Well, whatever, we're here so we may as well make the best of it. On the bright side, if you had to be sick at least you're in a warm bed." Dean knew from first hand experience that being sick on the road was awful.
"Just make sure you come in and warn up when you get cold. You wouldn't want to ruin your face by getting frost bite on your nose and then have some doctor cut it off."
"Dude, that's truly gross," Dean grimaced.
"Exactly, so take lots of breaks." Sam would have sounded more authoritative if his teeth would stop chattering
Dean laughed. "Okay, I get your point. Now gets some rest. I'll be up later." He handed Sam the remote and grabbed a bunch of his clothes and headed for the bathroom to get dressed. He skipped the shower since he knew he'd be covered in sweat by the time he finished and would just need another one anyway.
Once he was dressed in so many layers of clothes he could barely put his arms down he headed outside with the snow blower. They had left it on the back porch instead of in the shed. The cold wind brought tears to his eyes as it blew across them and in a matter of seconds his nose was also running from the cold. He wrapped his scarf tighter around his face and got to work. He cleaned a path from the door to the driveway first and then proceeded to cut a path just wide enough for the car to pass through. He didn't worry about the front of the house or the sidewalk. Screw it, he figured. God he hated snow.
He was less than halfway through when he had to go inside and warm up a bit. He had a seat at the kitchen table with a large mug of coffee. Dean was worried about Sam. They had no medicine and he doubted Sam would be able to ride a snowmobile all the way to town to see a doctor as sick as he was. He would fall off of it before they were even half way there.
That meant if Sam got worse they would have to use the radio and call for emergency help. Then again, maybe he could take one of the snowmobiles and run to town to get medicine. He would just have to wait and see how Sam's condition progressed. Damn it, why did Sam have to get sick? For that matter, why did the freaking snow have to come? Why couldn't anything ever just be simple!
Finally he was warm enough to go back outside and get to work once more.
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Sam lay in bed freezing. He had been shivering for a while and actually looked forward to having the fever return for a bit just so he could feel warm. This was all his fault. If they had left on Wednesday they would be off the island and on the mainland. He would be able to get some medicine, and Dean wouldn't be out in the snow busting his ass again. All he had wanted was to celebrate a real Thanksgiving with his brother. Actually, they had had a nice dinner. Sam couldn't regret it. He just wished things hadn't taken a turn for the worse so soon after.
Sam was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard whispering.
"Dean? Is that you?"
The whispering continued but Sam couldn't make out the words at all. It was almost like a white noise. He grabbed the remote and turned off the tv. The whispering stopped. He listened intently for another minute. It must have been the tv making the noise.
He decided to leave the tv turned off and rolled over onto his side to try and get some more sleep. When the temperature dropped in the room he just assumed he was cold because he was sick.
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Dean was just about finished with the driveway. He'd been working for two and a half hours now on and off. Sam had been right about taking breaks. He was freezing his nuts off. At least now he was finished. He decided to put the snow blower back in the shed. He opened the side door and pushed it in and set it against the wall.
Dean was about to walk out when something slammed into his body like a Mack truck. He hit the wall of the shed and crumpled to the floor.
"What the?" He jumped to his feet and then screamed in pain as something forced its way into his head.
"NOOO!" he cried as more pain swelled and throbbed inside his skull. He tried to fight it but he couldn't. His eyes glowed red. A sinister smile crossed his face.
'Finally, you are mine.' The words weren't spoken out loud, but Dean could hear them inside his own head. 'I have waited a long time to take you. You are stronger than the rest. Your love and protectiveness of the other is ingrained deep in you, the same is true of your brother, but it is no matter. It is done now. He is weak, and without his help you can't fight me off by yourself. I will add both of you to my collection.'
'I won't do your bidding,' Dean was all but shouting in his head. 'I won't hurt Sam.'
'You don't have a choice.'
Dean walked to the side of the shed and grabbed the ax hanging on the wall. He stepped over to the snowmobiles and proceeded to destroy the vehicles. Dean was desperate to stop himself from doing it but the thing inside him was using his body like a puppet.
'It is pointless to fight me.'
'I managed to fight you off before and I will again.'
'Foolish mortal. You have no idea of whom or what I am. I have roamed this earth for centuries, jumping from one body to another, amusing myself and feeding off the rage of others. Did you really think your prayers and your holy water could kill me? Did you think a circle of salt stronger than I?'
'It must have done something because you haven't been back in the house for a week.'
'Oh, I have been there, but you pathetic love and happiness prevented me from having my way. Until yesterday that is. The minute you became angry at Sam you opened the door for my return. You have such a wonderful temper,' it laughed. 'Let's see just how angry you can get.'
Dean dropped the ax and headed back for the house. He entered the kitchen not bothering to close the door behind him. He entered the small office and picked up the radio. He lifted it over his head and smashed it to the floor.
Dean realized what it was doing. It was making sure they had no way to escape or call for help. He realized something else too. The only reason to take the time and destroy the radio and the snow mobiles was because it was afraid they might be able to fight it off after all. That little bit of knowledge gave Dean hope. Whatever it was that possessed his body it wasn't invincible.
Finally his body turned and headed for the stairs. He realized what was about to happen.
'NO! I won't let you hurt Sam.'
'I'm not going to hurt Sam. You are. It will be your hands that will strip the life from your beloved younger brother. He will cry and beg and you will watch as the light fades from his eyes.'
Dean tried to scream out a warning to Sam to run but the entity inside him kept his lips tightly shut. Dean reached the top of the stairs and entered the game room. He watched as his hand lifted up the black 8 ball from the pool table. He realized that Sam didn't have a nightmare that night. It had been a vision after all, a vision that would lead to Sam's death.
Dean walked into the bedroom. Sam was sleeping soundly, a slight wheezing noise coming from his mouth told that his chest was growing more infected.
Dean shoved Sam hard on the shoulder jerking him awake.
"Dean?" Sam exclaimed. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes, you're what's wrong," Dean's mouth said.
"What? I don't understand." Sam wiped the sleep from his eyes.
"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. "I didn't mean for us to get stuck here again and I didn't plan on getting sick."
"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!"
Sam had a moment of déjà vu and he suddenly realized what was happening. His nightmare was about to come true.
Dean had had his arm behind his back but was now swinging it forward. The next thing Sam knew Dean had the black 8 ball in his fist and he swung it toward Sam's head. The hard object struck Sam in the temple and he fell back on the bed. The blow had been hard but not enough to knock him out, though it hurt like hell.
"No!" Sam called. He couldn't believe Dean had hurt him. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. He tried to move away from Dean but the injury and the illness was making his body slow and lethargic.
"Dean, fight it. You have to fight it," Sam begged as he fell out of his bed and began to crawl across the floor.
Dean raised his hand with the 8 ball once more and swung down as hard as he could towards Sam's head.
"NOOOO!" Sam cried. He managed to duck away a bit but still got grazed by the ball on the side of his head. Sam collapsed to the floor barely holding on to consciousness.
Dean dropped the 8 ball to the floor with a loud thud. Sam watched as it slowly rolled away from him. Dean then reached down and grabbed Sam and hoisted him up into his arms and tossed Sam over his shoulder.
Sam grunted from the pain as his head swung through the air. Sam hung limply over Dean's shoulder and felt rather helpless and dazed as Dean carried him down the stairs and out of the house through the back door.
"Dean," Sam whispered. "Dean, fight it."
"There's no point begging, little brother. There is no hope for you now."
Sam was so cold. Dean was still wearing all his layers of clothes. All Sam had on was sweat pants, a t-shirt, and socks. His body began to tremble and shake from the cold.
"Dean, after it kills me it will kill you too. You have to fight it," Sam said through chattering teeth. "It made Tom commit suicide."
Sam felt Dean's body jerk. "How do you know that?"
"I just do," Sam said, even though he knew he wasn't talking to Dean but the thing that was currently in control of his body.
"You have the sight," it suddenly said. "No wonder you were able to resist me for so long. However, you are weak now. You can't stop me."
Sam tried to kick and hit and squirm his way out of Dean's grasp but Dean just held him tighter. All the blood was rushing to Sam's head since he was hanging upside down and it was only making him hurt worse. It was also making it difficult for him to think.
Inside his own head Dean was trying to fight the monster in him. Sam was going to freeze to death if he didn't get him back in the house.
'Stop this you bastard,' Dean shouted.
'That's right, scream at me, beg me, get mad,' it taunted.
'I'll kill you,' Dean told it, which caused it to laugh with joy. The angrier Dean got at it the weaker he felt himself becoming.
They trudged though the snow. In some places it was thigh deep on Dean. Many times Sam's head and hands would be dragging though the snow.
Dean realized that Sam was growing quieter and quieter. The severe cold was starting to affect him. Sam was seriously going to die if he didn't find a way to fight this thing.
They cleared the trees and Dean realized they were standing on the shore. The thick layer of ice extended a few feet from land over the water. He walked onto the ice and stood at the edge of the water as it lapped against the ice.
Dean watched in horror as his own arms tossed Sam into the lake.
***
Sam's body literally contorted in on itself as the frigid water made contact with his skin. His flesh burned from an icy fire. He struggled to right himself and get his head above water but his limbs weren't being very cooperative.
Finally, he found his sense of direction and raised his head above the surface. He found that he could actually stand in place and keep his head above water. He looked up and saw Dean standing on the ice looking down at him. Dean's eyes glowed red and Sam struggled not to scream at the horrible image before him.
"Beg for your life and perhaps I will spare you," Dean said.
Sam knew it was a lie. He had seen in his visions the death of little Danny and his brother Tom. Sam was going to die. He was going to freeze to death in this lake. Already his lips were turning blue and his body was being racked by tremors and shakes in an attempt to warm itself.
"D…Dean…I…lo…love…you," Sam ground out through teeth chattering so hard that they had almost locked in place. If he was going to die he was going to use his last few minutes to tell Dean what he had wanted to tell him for years, but Winchester pride never allowed it. Even thought the thing was controlling Dean's body he knew Dean was in there and could hear him. "I…lo…love…you…bro…ther."
"NO!" Dean voice yelled. "Yell! Beg for your life!"
"No…I…wi…will…die…for…h…him."
Dean felt the monster in him losing control. Of course, it fed off the rage, the fear, but Sam wasn't feeding it. Sam was denying it. Dean began to chant in his head over and over, 'I love you, Sammy. I love you, Sammy."
'No, stop it you fool. Stop it.'
'I love you, Sammy. I love you, Sammy.'
Dean gasped when he realized he could move his body. He was in control.
"Sam!" Dean cried and dropped to his knees. Sam was just about to surrender and slip under the water when Dean grabbed the back of his shirt and with strength he never even knew he possessed he pulled Sam from the water in one swift motion and was dragging him back to the shore.
"Sammy! Sammy, wake up," Dean ordered. Dean was scared. Sam's body was jerking and he was so blue. Hypothermia would be setting in any second if it wasn't already.
Dean removed his heavy coat and wrapped it around Sam. He then put his hat on top of Sam's wet hair to protect him from the wind.
"Sammy, I need your help, little brother." Dean struggled to slide Sam's arms into the sleeves of the coat and then get it zipped. Dean pulled his brother in a hug and held him tight. "Sam, wake up," Dean cried.
"D…Dean," Sam mumbled. "Cold…so cold."
"I know you are but you have to help me." Sam was still unresponsive. His head rolled to the side. Dean was getting frustrated. Sam's body was shutting down. Dean looked up at the lighthouse and there, up by the railings was Caleb. Caleb was actually waving at him.
Dean felt a tingling sensation going up his scalp, almost like a rubber band rolling up the back of his head. Then his head began to ache once more. It was trying to reclaim control. 'Oh god, give me strength,' Dean prayed. He suddenly knew what he had to do.
Dean began to slap at Sam's face. "Sam! SAM! Wake up! Now!" He gave Sam another hard slap.
Sam's eyes popped open with a start.
"That's it. Come on, Sam, you have to get up," Dean told him.
"Dean?" Sam asked.
"Sam, get up off your ass and help me!" Dean demanded harshly.
Sam's brows knitted together and Dean could see he was trying to find the energy in him to help Dean. Guilt could be a great motivating factor. Sam would do anything not to let Dean down.
"Sam, I need you to run to Caleb," Dean told him. "Do it now. Go to Caleb." Dean hoped Sam understood what Dean was telling him. He didn't want to say to much more for fear of giving his plan away to the bastard trying to kill them.
"Come with me," Sam said.
"I'll be there soon," Dean replied and gave Sam a wink. "Now go, go as fast as you can."
Sam stood up with help from Dean and began to move. He knew Dean wanted him to run, but he couldn't. He was so cold. Some parts of his body were completely numb, others burned with a white hot intensity that threatened to overwhelm his senses.
Moving at least made his blood circulate and after a bit he was able to move a little quicker, but if that thing suddenly possessed Dean again it would overtake Sam easily enough.
Dean stayed by the water trying to make sure Sam had enough time. He prayed Sam would actually make it back to the lighthouse and not collapse half way there. He watched the minute hand on his watch go around and around. God he was cold, but at least he was dry. Sam was soaking wet and had no shoes on. He knew that even if he managed to save Sammy he still might die from exposure if he couldn't get him warmed up soon enough.
Finally, it had been fifteen minutes. Fifteen long and agonizing minutes. Dean looked up to the sky and shouted.
"Hey, you want me? Well here I am. Come get me you bastard. You think your so big and tuff. Well, fuck you. You didn't get Sam. I saved him. You weren't strong enough to take us. We beat you."
For the second time that day Dean found himself being hit by a mighty force. He hit the ground as the entity forced its way back into his head.
'You haven't won yet. You and your brother are trapped here. You have no where to go.'
'Wanna bet! I'm going to go get Sam and get him into some warm clothes and then we are going to walk the hell out of here.'
'No you won't!'
"Ahhhh," Dean screamed from the agony caused by having his mind and body once more taken over. He hoped Caleb knew what the hell he was talking about because Dean had done what he was told. He had surrendered to it.
'Now, let's go find your brother.'
They marched back towards the house at a quick pace, following the tracks Sam had made.
'Did you really think I would lose?' it asked.
'I think Sam is going to kick your ass,' Dean replied.
'Your brother will be lucky to still be alive once we reach the house. I can feel his life force slipping from him even now. He is weak. He is dying. He is afraid.'
'No, Sam will be all right,' Dean insisted.
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Sam let out a sob of relief when the house came into view. He was almost there. So close. The house would be warm. He just had to walk a little bit farther, but oh god it was so hard. The snow was so deep and his body hurt everywhere.
Sam made it to the driveway. Since it was clear of snow it made it easier for him to move. He followed the clear path to the back of the house and stumbled into the kitchen and fell to the floor. He was so tired. His body was begging to go to sleep but he knew if he did that he would die. He needed to keep his limbs moving, needed to keep the blood circulating, or else he would go into shock or succumb to hypothermia.
He closed the kitchen door and pulled himself to a crawling position. He used a chair at the kitchen table as a crutch to pull himself into a standing position. With a great amount of effort he walked to the wooden door that opened to the light house.
He looked at the stairs and almost wept. In his condition climbing those stairs would be like climbing Mount Everest.
"You…have…to do…it," Sam told himself. "Dean is…counting…on you." Like a dog walking on all fours Sam began to make his way towards the top.
000000
Dean's body was quickly closing the gap between him and Sam. The monster inside of him wanted Sam. It was personal at this point. Sam was the first person to ever find his weakness. The boy had to die if for no other reason.
'When I get to your brother I will tear him apart. I will cut his limbs from his body. I will bash his skull in so that his face will no longer be recognizable.'
'You're welcome to try,' Dean said calmly, trying desperately to control his temper. Sam had showed him the secret to fighting this thing. It fed off the anger, the sorrow, and the pain. Dean needed to stay just angry enough so that it thought it was in charge, but he knew the secret to throwing it out of his body any time he wanted to. All he had to do was think about how much he loved his baby brother, how important Sam was to him, and he could get his body back and be in control. This thing would never hurt Sam again.
But, Dean needed to do more than kick it out of his body. He needed to kill it for good, and he was pretty sure he knew how to do that. Dean said a silent prayer when he saw the house come into view and realized that they hadn't come across Sam along the way. Sam had made it to the house.
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Sam was over half way to the top of the stairs. He was still walking on all fours pulling him self along. He mind was wandering and it almost felt as if he weren't actually in his body anymore, like he was watching himself through one of his dreams or visions.
Sam jolted when he heard the door downstairs get kicked in. Dean, or the thing inside of Dean, was here. Sam didn't know what to do. He was in no condition to fight. He was moving on pure adrenaline because Dean needed him to move, but even that was dwindling away.
"OH SAMMY!" a twisted version of Dean's smooth voice drifted up to his ears.
"Dean," Sam whispered.
"Lure it to the lighthouse."
Sam looked up and saw Caleb standing at the top of the stairs.
"Lure it to the lighthouse," he repeated.
Sam nodded and called out. "Dean! Dean, help me!"
000000
In the kitchen the monster stopped.
"Dean! Dean, help me!"
"Fool," it laughed.
'Leave him alone,' Dean shouted in fake anger. He needed this thing to take the bait.
"Dean, please!"
It walked over to the doorway that led to the light house. Green eyes looked inside and saw there, on the stairs, was a haggard looking young man struggling to make it to the top. He swayed precariously as he climbed.
For the first time it began to sense something was amiss. It hesitated at the door and waited.
'Ha! You can't get him!' Dean laughed. 'He's safe. You're too chicken!'
'He can not stay up there forever. There is no heat, no food, and no water. He will die, or he will come down, and then he will die.'
'Sam will never come down,' Dean spat. 'He would rather simply go to sleep up there and die peacefully than come down here so you can torture him. You lost. He escaped you.'
"NO!"
It took a tentative step inside and then stopped once more.
Dean knew this was his chance. He needed to get control, but at the same time not throw it out of his body completely.
'Sammy, I will always protect you,' Dean thought. 'I am so lucky to have a brother like you. You're the best.'
"Shut up, human."
Dean knew it was working. It was a tug of war, but he could move with a great deal of effort. Dean reached back and pulled the door to the lighthouse closed, sealing all three of them inside.
'No.'
Dean felt it trying to flee and now he was actually making an effort to not let it escape.
"You're not going anywhere!" Dean insisted. He took off running up the stairs.
Sam had just cleared the top when he heard Dean's feet pounding up the stairs behind him. He dropped to the floor and lay there. He couldn't go any farther. His body was spent. He could feel his heart beating slower and slower. He was having difficulty drawing a breath into his lungs. His limbs no longer responded to his commands. He was slipping away and there was nothing he could do about it.
Dean charged up the stairs as fast as he could before it managed to break the connection between them. Dean cried out from the pain in his head.
'You can not hurt me,' it said. 'I am eternal.'
Dean didn't reply. He just kept climbing. He felt something running down his face and he realized his nose was bleeding from the pressure building in his head.
Dean made it to the top and gasped when he saw Sam passed out on the floor looking, for all intentions and purposes, very much dead.
'You couldn't save him,' it said. 'You failed. Now you will suffer for the rest of your days seeing the dead face of your brother.'
'Sammy,' Dean screamed. 'Sammy!'
A blinding light appeared in the light house, and it wasn't coming from the lantern. Dean shielded his eyes until it passed. When he looked again he saw dozens of people…spirits…standing in the lighthouse. He understood immediately. These were the spirits of the people it had murdered, manipulated, and destroyed.
Dean scanned the crowd. There were men, women, and even children, but Sam wasn't standing with the other spirits. For a moment no one moved, but then the spirits began to close in around Dean.
"Stay away," his voice suddenly called. "Stay back. You are nothing."
Dean felt himself grabbed and pulled and tugged. Hands clawed at him and he had to admit, he was afraid. Caleb was now standing before him. Caleb reached his hand into Dean's chest and grabbed hold.
"AHHHHH!" Dean screamed. He watched in revulsion as Caleb pulled a black mass from his body and held it in his hand. Dean was allowed to fall to the floor and the spirits now ignored him completely and focused all their attention on the black mass that was squirming wildly in Caleb's hands. Each spirit there began to grab at the mass and pull at it, tearing pieces of it off.
The mass thrashed in pain. Dean watched as little by little the spirits tore it to pieces and then another blinding light flashed inside the lighthouse. The next time Dean opened his eyes the spirits of the dead and the evil thing itself were all gone except for Caleb.
"Thank you," Caleb said. "It is over now." Then his spirit slowly faded from view and all was quiet.
Dean stared at the vacant spot for a moment before turning back to his brother.
"Sam! Sammy?" Dean crawled next to Sam and rolled his brother over gently. Sam was so cold to the touch and his lips were blue. Dean unzipped the coat and put his ear to Sam's chest and listened.
There! It was there! Sam's heart was still beating. Dean watched and could see that Sam was pulling in the shallowest of breaths. He's not dead. He's not dead! But he would be soon if he didn't get him warmed up and fast.
For the second time that day Dean pulled Sam into a fireman's carry. He had to walk down the stairs backwards, almost like climbing down a ladder because Sam's added weight through off his center of balance.
He made it to the kitchen and then moved as fast as he could for someone carrying an additional hundred and sixty pounds or so.
He climbed the stairs and entered the bathroom. As gently as possible he lowered Sam into the tub. He turned on the tap and found a nice and hot temperature. Then he turned on the shower. Hot water began to cascade down on him and Sam. He climbed into the shower too so he could pull off the parka and hat Sam was wrapped up in. Then he took off Sam's freezing cold t-shirt and sweatpants. Dean set the plug in the tub and the hot water collected in the bottom.
"Sam," Dean called as he rubbed furiously at Sam's arms and legs trying to get the circulation moving once more. "Sam, wake up."
Sam didn't give any response that he even knew that Dean was there. His eyes remained closed and he was as limp as a rag doll. Soon the bathroom was full of steam as the hot water continued to rain down on them and raise up higher on the sides of the tub.
Dean put his ear to Sam's chest once more and listened to his brother's heart beat. It was now beating very quickly, almost too quickly Dean noticed.
"Sammy! Please, damn it, open your eyes."
Finally Sam parted his eye lids. He was clearly disoriented and he couldn't focus.
Dean hadn't been ready when Sam screamed out and started thrashing his arms and legs.
"Sammy? What's wrong?"
"AHHH!" Sam cried. He was clawing at his own skin and Dean grabbed his wrists to stop him from hurting himself. "It hurts!" Sam screamed. "It burns! Dean, make it stop! Oh God!"
Dean realized that Sammy was having the sensation return to his limbs and skin. He watched helplessly as Sam continued to cry out in agony.
"Sammy, it will pass, but right now there's nothing to do."
Sam continued to thrash, tears poured down his cheeks and mixed with the water from the shower.
Dean couldn't stand it. He didn't even know what he was doing but he had to do something. He grabbed Sam by the chin and forced his brother to look at him.
"Sam, breathe, okay, breathe. Come on, he, he, he, hoo, hoo, hoo."
Sam stared at him with wide eyes that clearly spoke the words, 'you're crazy' but he did as Dean directed and he copied the breathing pattern Dean had started. It didn't make the pain go away, but it served as a distraction. For the next thirty minutes the two never broke eye contact and continued with their bizarre Lamaze exercise until they were both feeling light headed and faint.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the pain Sam was feeling began to subside. His body had stopped spasming but his muscles still felt tight and stiff.
The tub of water was no longer hot but warm. Dean finally stood up in the tub. He had been squatting the entire time and his knees were about to break. He pulled off his wet shirt and pants.
"Can I just say this is really twisted," Sam whispered through a horse throat. He and his brother were in the tub together both in their boxers. "I think I may be scared for life from this one."
"Better to be scarred than dead," Dean said. "How's the pain?"
"It's almost gone," Sam said. "I'm just tingling in a few places now."
"Good." Dean replied and stepped out of the tub. He yanked off his wet socks and threw them on top of all the other wet clothes. He grabbed a towel and began to dry off.
"Will you be okay by yourself for a minute?" Dean asked. "I need to get some clothes for both of us."
"I'll be fine," Sam replied as he closed his eyes.
"Hey, don't fall asleep!" Dean told him. "Open your eyes." Dean didn't just save him from freezing to death only to have him drown in the tub.
He hurried across the hall and went in their room. He pulled on the sweats he had slept in last night and then a t-shirt. Once he pulled on some socks he started looking for some clothes for Sam. He grabbed several items and went back to the bathroom.
As he expected, Sam was asleep in the tub. Dean reached in and pulled the plug to drain the water. He used a towel to dry his brother's hair and face.
"Sam, I need some help here," Dean told him.
Sam blinked and pulled himself into a sitting position. He groaned from the effort and gladly accepted Dean's help to stand. Even though he was no longer in excruciating pain his limbs were basically useless. He sat on the toilet lid with a thump and Dean proceeded to dry him off before pulling his dry clothes on him.
"Dean, are you okay?" Sam asked.
"Of course I'm okay," Dean said. "You're the one who almost froze to death, remember."
"I'm not talking about that," Sam said. "I mean, when it possessed you, are you okay?"
"Dude, I'm fine. With all due respect I just took a shower with my brother and breathed like a woman about to have a baby for the past half hour. Really, I'm so NOT in the mood to go all emotional now. If this chick flick moment continues for much longer I'm likely to grow a set of tits or something.
Sam couldn't help but smile. Dean was fine. He was still Dean and that was perfect. Dean hoisted Sam up and dragged him to the bedroom. He stopped at the door when he saw the 8 ball lying in the floor. He felt Sam stiffen next to him. Memories and actions flooded both their minds.
Dean cleared his throat and then helped Sam to his bed and laid him down. Then Dean bent down, picked up the 8 ball, opened the window, and pitched it outside. He slammed the window down and went to the fireplace to relight the fire. The room was chilly and Sam was already sick. Dean actually feared how sick Sam would get after the shock his body had just been put threw. Honestly, it was a miracle Sam was still alive. His baby brother had more lives than a cat if you started counting all the close calls he had had.
Soon the fire was blazing and Dean stood up and walked back to Sam. He was asleep. He looked like hell. Dark circles were under his eyes and his lips were chapped and raw. His skin had a gray tinge to it. A harsh wheezing sound could be heard with every breath Sam took.
Sam needed a doctor. He needed medicine. Hell, he probably needed to spend a week in a hospital, but Dean didn't have a way to get Sam any of those things. The radio was gone, the snow mobiles were gone, and if Dean set out walking he would freeze to death out there long before he managed to get Sam any help.
He remembered that that girl, Tina, lived a half a mile away, but a half a mile in three feet or more of snow was really far, and even worse, he didn't know which direction to go. He could start walking only to find he went the wrong way and then have to turn back.
Dean wasn't afraid to die, but he had to think about Sam. If he got lost or froze out there, it would be a death sentence for Sam too. Sam was in no condition to take care of him self.
Dean realized it would be up to him.
***
Dean sat in the kitchen chair resting his head in his hands. Sam was lying on the mattress in the floor shivering even though he was under two blankets and there were three pots of water boiling on the stove creating a rain forest effect in the room. Dean wiped at the moisture collecting on his face and then dried his hands on his pants.
God he was tired. Sam had been sick now for three days…three very long and grueling days. The first day really hadn't been that bad, and Dean had actually let himself believe that Sam would be fine after some bed rest and chicken soup.
Sam had finally warmed up and he no longer suffered from any numbness or tingling, but he had been weak and tired. Dean had let him sleep away the afternoon and then when Sam woke later that evening he and Sam had played a few hands of poker after a light supper. Then Sam grew tired again and went back to sleep.
The next morning Dean realized the truth. Sam had developed a deep cough; one that took his breath away wracked his body every time it happened. The fever was worse than ever and Sam was in and out of consciousness, sometimes even hallucinating. Dean had been scared to death that pneumonia had set in.
He wasted no time. He dragged a mattress from upstairs down to the kitchen and made a bed for Sam in the floor. Then he got three pots of water boiling to put steam in the air. Next, he used two nails to hang a blanket over the door to make sure the steam couldn't leave the room. Then, somehow, he actually found the strength to carry his brother's enormous dead weight down the stairs and tuck him in his new bed.
In the few times Dean had been forced to carry Sam in the past he had put him in a fireman's carry, but with him being so sick, somehow Dean just couldn't bring himself to do that to Sam, so he carried him in his arms and used the wall to brace himself as he moved through the house.
Dean had also remembered an old trick their father had used on Sammy once when he had been a child and had come down with the croup. Dean slathered mustard all over Sam's chest to help break up the congestion. The smell had been strong and he noticed it did seem to help ease Sam's breathing, even if it did make him smell like a hot dog.
Now three days later Dean was still sitting in the kitchen. He only left when he had to do something in the lighthouse or to gather more fire wood. Every few hours he would make sure to spoon some broth into Sam's mouth and force a little water down his throat. Sam had been asleep, he refused to say unconscious, for the past 32 hours, and Dean was growing ever more concerned.
Dean wasn't exactly known as a praying man. He tended to believe more in the things that he could see, or feel, or smell, or even kill. God had always seemed this elusive far off concept to him. He was a father who had abandoned his people. Sure, every now and then the words 'thank god', or 'oh god' might come tumbling out of his mouth, but it was more of an automatic response than a true belief that God would actually come to their rescue or was looking out for them.
But, for the past two days Dean had been praying...praying to a God that he hoped really existed...and if he did exist he hoped he was actually listening. Several times he had actually made a bargain with the big guy. Just save Sam and he could have Dean instead. Dean wasn't afraid to die. Everyone died. That didn't mean he necessarily wanted to drop dead this second, but he would, if he had to, if it would save his little brother.
Death didn't scare Dean. What frightened Dean Winchester was being left behind. Dean was prepared to go first. Hell, he needed to go first. It was odd, really, isn't that what a parent was supposed to say about their child? Siblings weren't supposed to have that attitude. But then, he and Sam were more than just siblings, at least that's how it was for Dean.
Dean loved his father, and always would, but Dad, well, Dad had been busy...distracted. Not that he wasn't a good father, mind you. John Winchester was a force of nature. He was strong, and skilled, and he fought the good fight saving the world and all that stuff. Sammy might not have appreciated those qualities, but Dean did. Dean understood his father. But, his Dad's work often left him and Sam alone with no one to rely on but each other, and since Dean was four and half years older it often fell on him to take care of Sammy.
For years he had kissed Sam's booboos. He had been the one to comfort Sam during the night when he had a nightmare. He had been the one to make sure Sam got dinner when Dad had to work. He was the one who played ball, or soldiers, or skipped stones with him. Sam was Dean's responsibility, always had been...always would be...period.
Dean looked at his brother still sleeping in the floor. Sam had to get better. He just had to. He climbed from his chair and poured some more hot broth into a cup and grabbed the spoon. He sat on the mattress next to Sam. He didn't have to worry about propping Sam up because Sam already was sitting up. Dean had figured out that Sam could breathe easier when he was vertical so he used a bunch of pillows to keep Sam from falling over.
Dean gently pried Sam's mouth open and placed a spoonful of broth in and used his hand to close his mouth once more.
Sam choked and coughed as the soup went down, but then something wonderful happened. Sam opened his eyes. Dean watched as Sam took a moment to figure out where he was.
"Bro, I am happy to see you," Dean said, trying to mask some of the relief he was feeling.
"What happened?" Sam asked with a hoarse and scratchy voice.
"You've been sick," Dean answered.
"How long?"
"Three days. The last two you've been pretty much unconscious."
Sam blinked several times taking the information in. Dean put another spoonful of broth into Sam's mouth. Sam swallowed it down easier this time since he knew to swallow.
"It's hot in here."
"No shit, Sherlock," Dean joked. "You couldn't breath. I've basically turned the kitchen into a sauna to break up the congestion in your lungs." He spooned in more broth.
Sam stared at him while Dean continued to feed him. If Dean thought it was weird to sit here and feed his brother like a baby he didn't let on. Sam was too tired and weak to make a fuss. He felt drained, the kind of energy loss one can only feel after a long bout with illness.
He looked at his bare chest and saw that he was yellow. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. After swallowing another sip of broth he asked Dean.
"Why am I yellow?"
"It's mustard."
"Mustard?" Sam's brain was too foggy to make sense of it.
"I remember Dad doing it once. It works like Vicks Vapor rub. It was to help you breathe."
"My breathing was that bad?" Sam asked.
"I thought…" but Dean didn't finish his sentence. He wouldn't put to words the scary things that had crossed his mind. "Yeah, it was that bad."
Even in his groggy state Sam knew what Dean was about to say. He thought Sam might die.
"How do your lungs feel right now?" Dean asked.
"It hurts to breath, but I can do it without to much trouble," Sam told him.
"Good," Dean replied. "I bet from now on you'll look at mustard in a whole new light."
Sam smiled but Dean could see the weariness still in Sam's face. Sam may have reached the turning point, but he would still need several days to get his strength back.
"Listen, why don't you go back to sleep," Dean said. "You're exhausted."
"You need to sleep too," Sam rasped out. "You're dead on your feet."
"Two things wrong with that statement," Dean smirked. "One, I'm not dead, and two, I'm not on my feet." He smiled while he waited for Sam to realize he was sitting on the bed next to Sam.
"Smart ass," Sam finally replied.
"Cool, I don't get to play the smart one in this family too often."
"It wasn't supposed to be a compliment," Sam grinned.
"I sort of figured that one out," Dean said. "Really, Sammy, get some more rest."
"You too," Sam said and let out a harsh cough that had Dean pounding on his back.
"I'll be fine," Dean told him once the cough subsided, but obviously that wasn't good enough for Sam. Sam slid himself over in the bed and then pointed to the empty space now available.
"Lay down," Sam said. "Please. If you get sick too we'll both be in trouble." Sam knew Dean wouldn't refuse him now that he had laid on the guilt.
Sure enough Dean sighed and kicked off his shoes. "What ever you want." He grabbed one of the dryer pillows and lay down next to Sam who was still propped up. Soon both Winchesters were sound asleep.
0000000
Two days later Sam was still resting in his bed. At least he was now back up in his room instead of in the sweltering kitchen. He flipped through the tv channels looking for something even remotely interesting to watch. Daytime television really sucked. He finally found a movie on the sci-fi channel that looked promising. It was about a group of dragon hunters and the dragon had just eaten one of them.
Sam actually breathed a sigh of relief that they had never come face to face with a dragon. So far, dragons seemed to be the only thing in legend and folklore they hadn't come across. He hoped they never did.
Dean entered the room carrying a tray of food which he set down on Sam's lap.
"Here ya go," Dean said proudly. "Eat up."
Sam smiled when he looked at his lunch. "Yum, grilled cheese and Spaghetti O's."
"Hey, don't knock it," Dean insisted.
"I'm not. It's fine, really," Sam said with a smile. "The only thing that would make it even better is if you brought me some coffee."
Dean pulled the steaming mug out from behind his back. "Here you go. One coffee, black."
Sam grabbed the mug and breathed in the strong aroma before savoring the fist sip.
"Just to let you know, while I was making your sandwich, the snow plow came through. The road is open again. We don't have to leave, though," Dean offered. "With you still being sick it might be best to stay a few more days."
"No," Sam said. "Thanks for offering, but I think we should go…today."
"Are you sure?" Dean asked. "You're still not a hundred percent."
"No, but I'm at least seventy-five, and I don't want to take the risk of getting snowed in here again. After I eat I'll take a shower and pack."
"Sammy…"
"It's Sam, and really, I'll be fine. I'll rest in the car." Dean still didn't look convinced. "Look at it this way, the longer we stay here the longer we're off Dad's trail. We've no radio, no phone or e-mail, and no reception for our cells. For all we know Dad's been trying to contact us for days now and can't." Sam didn't really believe that, but he wanted to convince Dean they needed to leave. Sam felt guilty about them getting snowed in the second time and refused to have it happen again.
"Fine, we'll go," Dean finally replied. "But, we'll leave tomorrow morning. I've already watched the news and got the weather report. There's no snow predicted for tonight or tomorrow. This way we'll have time clean up, clean the house a bit, and then leave at first light tomorrow."
"Okay," Sam replied.
"Plus, we need to go to town and collect our last paychecks," Dean added.
"I think we should give the last ones back," Sam said.
"What!" Dean exclaimed. "Why should we give back $600?"
"Because the radio and both snow mobiles are trashed. They'll need that money to repair them."
"But we didn't break them. The ghost did."
"Yeah, but they aren't going to believe that," Sam replied.
"Sam, I know you're all for taking the high road and everything, but this is our money!"
"We have plenty of money," Sam said. "There was still over $7,000 left from the reward, and we have the $1,200 from our other checks. We're fine."
Dean ran his hands down his face and sighed. "Fine, we'll give back the checks we get tomorrow. I would just like to state for the record that you are a real pain in the ass."
"Trust me, we're doing the right thing," Sam said with a smile.
"Sam, shut up and eat your Spaghetti O's."
The End
***
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