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Takes place after the episode Hunted

A story for the amazing Bia1007 I hope you like the story, when I got the mail today morning I couldn't resist writing it immediately, since you're always so great... Does it fulfil your wish in any ways? I hope it's not disappointing to you. Lot's of love to ya.

Sis? My laptop is really, really dead… I'm on the computer of my dad… I hate this thing… I love you.

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Haunted House

"Hey Sammy" Dean greeted his little brother, who stepped into the room, they have rented. The older man didn't look up, his gaze fixed on the screen.

"Hey… uhm…" The younger man fell silent again, when he saw that Dean didn't give him any attention. Dean frowned. "Sam… look at that." The little brother immediately obeyed, squeezing one of the two coffees he had brought into his brother's hand. Dean gave a silent nod of thanks, taking a gulp.

Haunted House?

Arizona's news report that the recently opened art museum isn't calm like the pictures are. So died a vigil in front of a Van Gough portrait the same way, the artist himself died. Shot. Surprisingly his own gun wasn't the weapon of crime.

The husband of the owner, who found him died one night later. In front of a picture of Dali, because of sudden heart failure.

Now we ask: Are these murders just accidents?

….

"So?" Sam asked, glaring. He really didn't want to hunt right now His brother wasn't sleeping and really didn't look like he could fight something. "There are many hunters closer than we are, let them hunt this thing… or do you really want to hunt pictures?"

"Sam, we have to do something." Dean turned around, to his brother. "That's not natural. And we can't just ignore a case, Sam." Dean reasoned. He didn't know why, but his brother were refusing to hunt.

"Dean…" Sam sighed, making the other man look up. "I don't want you to hunt right now… ever since our last meeting with Gordon, you're…. acting wired? I don't trust you with hunting, when was the last time you slept through a night?"

"Sam… damn it… I'm able to take care of myself. So either you gonna go with me willingly to Arizona, or I'm gonna make you come with me." Dean insisted, standing up.

Sam looked up at his big brother. He never should have gone away first place. With Dean on his side, Gordon probably hadn't a chance to kidnap one of them. It was his fault that his brother was acting like that.

"Are you coming?" Dean asked annoyed. Sam huffed but got up anyway, following his brother outside to the Impala.

"Dean" Sam began after some time. "That thing with Gordon…"

"Leave me alone with that, Sam." Dean grumbled, he really did the best, not to think about it.

"He's in prison now and you don't need to worry anymore… I'm able…" He wanted to quote his brother, but Dean seemed to sense that.

"Shut up Sam." Dean barked, hitting the wheel. Sam winced, looking startled at his brother. He "We have to concentrate on the next hunt. "Fetch your laptop and search for any clues."

"I've already looked for anything… there is nothing." Sam's voice was quiet. "Dean… be reasonable…"

"I AM reasonable. People are dying, we're gonna help." Dean was shouting. Scared… exhausted… well rather tired beyond believe. The younger man guessed.

After a little while, after Dean had calmed down, the older brother glanced at the younger. "Sleep, Sammy… I'll wake you up when we're there." Dean promised. Sam looked at him with a sad expression on his face. Why was Dean so pigheaded?

………………..

"Sam we're here." It was in the middle of the night, when the Impala stopped at the side of the road, in front of the museum. A thick DO NOT CROSS band was stretched over the entrance.

The museum was out of town in an old, left castle. "Lovely… good place for angry spirits." Dean got out of the car, heading for the trunk.

"Dean… I have a bad feeling." Sam chased his brother, looking at him with worried eyes. Dean was pale, except of the dark rings under his eyes.

"Of course… a haunted castle with pictures of dead people in it… that's even scarier than clowns." Dean smiled smugly at his little brother, mentioning clowns, but when he realized that Sam didn't react to the joke, Dean rolled his eyes, continuing fetching weapons.

"Dean…." Sam raised his voice, not expecting his brother to shot around again.

"Sam, I know my body and I'm fine, you don't need to believe me, but you're not gonna change anything about it. Now, get a salt-stone-gun and a regular one and make yourself useful."

Sam remained silent afterwards. Dean telling him that he didn't need to believe him had been a low blow, something he didn't know how to response.

"Okay… stay close behind me." Dean ordered, pulling Sam close with a hand fisted in the younger man's jacket, when they got into the castle. It was cold and dark inside and Sam felt Dean tense, he didn't like that atmosphere, neither.

Both men winced when the door closed behind them.

"Crap" Dean cursed, a hand shooting back to his brother's forearm. "Perhaps this wasn't such a great idea."

Dean should have got the biggest 'I told you so' in history, but Sam couldn't even open his mouth, when they saw a movement in the first room.

"Sammy… stay behind." Dean ordered, his arm protectively in front of his brother. Sam felt himself nod, following Dean.

"Is here somebody?" Dean asked with a calm voice. Only Sam could hear the tremor in it. He looked at his older brother. Dean's eyebrows were pinched, like he was in pain and he was unable to walk without stumbling.

"I haven't expected anybody today." A female voice said. The brothers looked around not seeing anybody. "But anyway… I don't really care… pick an artist." The woman laughed.

"Dean…" Sam whispered into the dark, feeling his brother's hand tighten around his forearm.

"Where are you, bitch." Dean challenged, the brother's were standing in the middle of the room, their eyes wandering. Sam could hear pain in his brother's voice. The death-grip on his arm tightening impossible more, like Dean supported his weight on Sam.

"Here" Suddenly a woman appeared in front of the boys, not far away. She was old, late sixties, long white hair and piercing green eyes.

"Dean… that's the owner of the museum." Sam informed his older brother, looking down at the old woman, scorning.

"Smart boy… and who are you?" The aged woman asked with a nice grin.

"None of you business." Sam asked bluntly, having the feeling that he was standing for his brother and himself right now. Why hadn't his brother listened to him? The effects of the week finally made themselves felt.

"Didn't your mother taught you to be polite to elder persons?" The woman asked.

"Sam…" Dean breathed, fisting his brother's jacket, his legs giving in. Sam wanted to cry out… hit around… do anything… his brother was more than vulnerable. But he leaned in, so he could hear his older brother's voice. "Witch"

The woman lost her smile, looking at the older man. "Why… how…"

Sam was fast though, pulling his gun. "We hunt evil bitched like you. Why have you killed that guys… your husband?"

"It's all about publicity… I'm sorry that this was my husband… but hey… I have visitors…" The woman smiled, stepping closer to the boys.

"Money?" Sam asked snorting and pointed the gun at the woman's head, when she took another step forward. "Don't move."

"You bet, I'm moving." The witch smiled, moving her hand, her gaze at Sam's head.

Sensing, that the woman wanted to… break… Sam's neck with a quick movement of her hand, Dean pushed in the last moment, without really thinking, earning a hard blow on the top of his head.

"Dean…" Sam shrieked, seeing his brother laying there, unconsciously, a nasty gash on his forehead. "You bitch." He shouted, lunging at the old woman, the gun still in his hand.

Taken aback from the selfless action of the older man, the witch was dumbfounded, when suddenly a report cut the air. She hadn't even the time to react when the bulled hit her belly. She fell to the ground, bleeding.

"That was for my brother." Sam stood over the dying woman, the gun pointed at her skull. The old woman's terrified eyes met the furious of the man, when he pulled the trigger again…

"Dean… Dean… wake up… come on… wake up…" Sam begged, his brother's head deposited in his lap. Looking at the wound he realized that it wasn't deep. It was just bleeding like mad.

"You're an ass…" Sam cursed his brother, when Dean's eyes fluttered.

"Right back at you." Dean's voice was weak, but he was able to smile though, when he heard the teary laugh of his brother. "I'm gonna bee okay, Sammy."

"Can you help me, bring you outside to the car?" Sam asked, stroking Dean's hair back, trying to ease the pain a little, remembering that Dean used to do exactly that, when places were switched.

"Are you okay, Sammy?" Dean asked, reaching up, so he could cup Sam's cheek in his. Sam laughed anguished and leaned into his brother's touch nodding. "Good… let's get to the car." Dean insisted, but wasn't even able to sit up alone.

"Don't hurry… Let me help ya." Sam ordered kindly, standing up slowly.

………………

"Ouch… Sam…" Dean tried to swat Sam's hand away from his forehead, when Sam began with cleaning the wound up. Even with painkillers that wound hurt.

"Don't be a wuss." Sam wiped the alcohol out of the wound, as gently as he could. Dean had been cold out the whole ride to the next motel. The younger brother hated to stitch the older up, but knowing that this was necessary, he did it though, even if it inflicted actually more pain.

"Look…" Dean wheezed. "…whose talking."

Sam looked down at his brother, who was laying on the bed, while he prepared the needle. Dean was in pain. "You shouldn't have done this." Sam stated, trying to keep his hands from trembling. His brother could have died tonight.

"Well… there wasn't another change, if I haven't pushed you out of the way, you would be dead." Dean answered, eying his brother's trembling hands.

"I don't talk about that… I mean… I hate that you did it, but though…" He let out a breath. "I wouldn't expect something else… I know that you would take a bullet for me… it's vice versa… but you shouldn't have hunted today first place… and Dean… I've told you so."

"I know Sam… but hey… everything turned out just fine." Dean faked a smile at his brother. But Sam raised his eyebrows, not accepting that as answer. "Okay, Sammy… I'm sorry… what do you wanna hear?"

"Try the truth." Sam suggested, treating the needle the first time through Dean's raw skin. Dean sighed. "The whole week, since we left Ava's apartment, you were… eying me like a hawk, not sleeping…"

"Gordon went after you… and if this Ava hadn't seen you in her vision… you would have died… Sammy… it would have been… well… just a second… because I wouldn't have protected you… I'm sorry… but this thought scared the crap out of me." Dean confessed, wincing a few times, whenever Sam pulled the needle through his flesh.

"You're gonna answer me, Sammy?" Dean, asked, when he didn't received an answer.

Sam just nodded and Dean got that his brother was concentrating on the wound right now, tears blistering in his eyes.

But as soon as he was done, Sam stood up, glaring down on his brother. "That's no fucking reason to act like you don't worth anything. You make yourself sick for me. Okay… Dean… I get it, you wanna take care of me… but could you please take care of yourself, too?" The younger man sat down beside the elder, his eyes softening again. "For me?" Well… he was able to set low blows too.

"Bitch" Dean closed his eyes, opening his hand towards Sam, like he wanted to confirm the deal with a handshake.

"Jerk" Sam took Dean's hand with his both hands, smiling a little. "Thanks Dean…"

"Go to bed and let me sleep." Dean squeezed Sam's one hand a little before he took his one back.

"Night, Dean" Sam got up and left for his own bed, after covering his brother up.

"Good night, Sammy… sleep tight." Dean responded, already falling asleep.

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