Title: My Ghost and I

Author(s): Kerri B.

Rating: Most likely T for language and/or violence

Disclaimer: Woo! Disclaimer! You all probably didn't know this, but I only write stories so I can tell everybody how much I don't own it.

Summary: Ever woken up feeling a bit detached? Me too. Ever woken up dead? I didn't think so. No, our boys didn't die, but neither does their newest ghost friend. Apparently, the body and bones decided to see the world without him. . .

Prologue

It is a well known fact that when you find yourself in a situation where you are in any kind of pain, thinking about something other then the frickin' awful pain you are in will help you through. Thoughts such as a warm hamburger and shake waiting for you at home, or hot models giving you a much needed massage on a sunny beach should probably suffice. Perhaps even paying taxes would help.

Another well known fact is that the previously mentioned fact is a load crap.

Dean Winchester figured as much about five minutes ago. He wasn't cut, bruised, skinned, cauterized, scraped, lacerated, stabbed, beaten, burned, or torn into tiny little pieces at the time this revelation took place though. Five minutes ago, he was helping his brother Sam with an almost absurd problem. A pretty damn heavy problem.

Exactly four minutes and thirty seconds ago, both he and Sam were carrying this problem to the nearest cemetery for a proper burial. Sam focused on his breathing while carrying the feet of this problematic character. Dean focused on cursing Sam while attending to the shoulders.

Of course, it hadn't really been Sam's fault that they were hauling a six foot, four inch, two-hundred-fifty pound man across an unimaginably long stretch of grave riddled grass at two o'clock in the morning. It wasn't his fault that the poor bastard up and died without any family to give a crap. But it was Sam's fault on how he knew this.

If the damn kid was meant to be a therapist, then he shouldn't have been born in the Winchester family. Such pansy jobs were strictly forbidden from the family after their dad had taken control in raising them. Though seeing as Sam was always trying to share his girly feelings all the time, Dean figured that they were lucky he had tried to pursue a career in being a lawyer instead of said alternative.

Then again, it wasn't Sam's fault that he got sucked into being this guys lent ear either. He had merely been sitting next to an already dug up grave, waiting while Dean was back at the Impala gathering salt and matches, as the man walked up, drunk as hell, sat down next to his brother, letting his legs swing over the edge of the dirt cliff, and began talking.

Ten minutes Sam sat there listening to the man's woeful tale of a screwed up childhood, bad transition to adulthood, many a divorce, the death of his overbearing parents, grandparents, great grandparents, an adopted brother and his wife, his ex wives and their new husbands, and his much loved Saint Bernard, Tito.

Dean had only arrived on the scene when the drunk finished up his tale with a quick and unwanted hug before falling dead on the ground.

That wasn't surprising. The guy was so wasted he didn't even get that he was sitting at the edge of a freshly dug grave, and he was obviously sick of the way life was treating him anyway.

The weight was also not a surprise, seeing as how it looked like he thought exercising was an over exaggerated myth.

What was a surprise however was that after they dug a decent sized hole, dropped the man in, and were about to cover the body with the dirt, a voice called out from behind with a cheeriness that to Dean, could only be described as nails on a chalkboard.

"Hey, dudes!"

And that brings us to the here and now.

The time and place upon where the present begins.

The very moment when both brothers turn around to face the blissfully unaware smile of a recently deceased, almost buried drunkard.

A moment, that Dean summed up very well in two short words.

"Aw, hell."

Side note: No offense was intended to therapists, or extra cheery personalities. This was all done in Dean's POV. Well, me narrating from his perspective anyway. . . And he didn't strike me as the kind of guy that would appreciate a therapist's role in life.

And as for you freakishly happy, cheery people. . . I have no words for you. You'd all just smile and say it doesn't matter anyway and you're just glad that your personality could be described in so many adjectives.

So there you have it. My prologue. Shall we continue on? Read at your own risk. Side effects may include: laughing, gagging, chortling, grinning, wheezing, snorting, snickering, chuckling, sniggering, smiling, and the inability to control your bladder functions.

Or I could just be tooting my own horn. ;-)

Can't say I didn't warn you. - Kerri