Title: Long As I Can See The Light This is also the title of a very good CCR song
Author: Clavis Salomonis
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the wondrous Sam and Dean, maybe one day if I manage to take over the universe. But that day is not today.. -sigh- I guess I can dream though

This is my first fanfic, so I apologise for my tangents.

Honest opinions are greatly appreciated

Long As I Can See The Light

"Come on, Brandy!" He stopped as he spoke, turned and grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her along the dimly lit road. "It's just around the corner."

"Mike," she paused, shaking his hand off her with a flap of her limb. It was a cold, cloudless night; her breath flowed out of her mouth like steam, a haze into the darkness. Brandy shivered, and looked up to her companion. "Mike, I, I don't think I want to do this anymore…" Her forehead knotted together as she stared at him, he watched her back for a second, taking in her features. His mind deciding on the best course of action.

"Brandy." He said, softly, moving closer to her. "I would never let anything happen to you…" Her expression smoothed slightly, her dark brown eyes seeming to relax. She uncrossed her arms. "But you chose dare!" He grinned maniacally at his younger sister before once more taking hold of her arm and pulling her in the direction of the house.

"Mike!" She complained, it took her a moment to react, for the information to correctly resister in her frozen brain, and by that time, he had nearly dragged her around the corner.

The still cold wash to the air danced on her bare face and scrapped down her numb fingers. She was only wearing a T-shirt and her thin, dark green jacket, as well as her jeans.

Brandy took a deep breath in through her lungs, the sensation like ice dripping down her throat, the oxygen caught at the back, freezing the muscle for a second, almost making her cough.

She tried to struggle against her brother once more, but it was half heatedly, he was stronger than her, and in her heart of hearts she would rather suffer this dare, than risk the trouble and torment at home for the next six months for being a 'wimp'.

He paused just before the corner, leaning back to smile wickedly at her for a heartbeat before whisking her around the dark red brick wall.

As Brandy's eyes locked onto it, they widened, her breath becoming just that little bit faster, a slight hint of heat and panic rising to her pale, freezing face.

She swallowed, but it was dry and stuck to the back of her throat. Her brother grinned at her, letting go of her arm and gave her a firm push towards the building.

Brandy fell forwards a few steps then turned to glare menacingly at Mike, who simply laughed at her expression.

She swung back her head, anger making her brave, and marched towards the front door, her arms clutched about herself, more from the cold than fear. Well, that's what she told herself.

The young girl pushed though the front gate, using the side of her body to open it, not even daring to touch it. The old and decaying wood half falling apart as her jacket brushed against it. The hinges creaked, but only slightly, the rusty red caked metal moved stiffly like old joints. She barely gave the thick padlock and chains a glance, knowing, for years now, that they were only for show and did nothing.

The garden was nightmare dark and over grown, the leaves reaching out to her like hands, she swallowed and walked on, keeping her eyes fixed on the front door and nothing else.

Dead leaves muffled her foot steps, fallen twigs and branches snapped under her footfall like brittle bones, some now and again trying to twist themselves around her ankles, like snakes, trying to pull her down.

Brandy let out a little yelp and kicked at the entangled wood, her mind making her see a viper when there was only shadow. As her foot broke free in a panic ragging jerk she flew forwards, half running, her body wanting to break into a sprint, wanting to race the hell out of there, but her mind telling her to clam down. It was only her imagination. There was nothing to fear. There was no reason to be afraid of the dark. That she couldn't let Mike win.

She breathed in deeply through her nose, counting to five before continuing in this jungle like world, composure now restored and glad that her brother couldn't see her from his position on the other side of the road.

She inhaled strongly, then stopped, freezing in place, only her eyes moving as they grew in size. She could hear breathing behind her, could see the traces of mist like breath being carried by the wind, over her shoulder. The white fog just catching at the corner of her eye.

"Mike?" She faked annoyance in her voice, seemingly like she knew it was him. And it had to be. Who else was there? When no reply came, she was sure that it was her brother, only he would be so annoying. And the breathing was quite clear down. She sighed. "Were you too scared to wait by yourself…" She trailed off as she turned to face him and found nothing but the small path she had just walked along. The closed wooden gate just visible. She swallowed. "Mike?" Brandy called again, louder this time. That's weird… She thought, in spite of herself. I could have sworn I left the gate open… A deep resonating shiver ran down her spine, tingling down to the base of her legs, adrenaline races through her system pushing her to run, as fast as she could. Her heart hammered so loud she could hear it, swear that it had escaped her body and was right next to her. She spun her head to the side suddenly, had she heard a noise? Nothing, nothing but the shadows.

She closed her eyes, and shook her head.

"Come on Bran, it's just a house, it's nothing to be scared of… Don't give Mike the satisfaction. You're mind is just playing tricks on you…" She nodded to herself, pulling her arms tighter around her torso and skipped to the front door. She skipped because it was faster than walking, but causal enough so that when her brother saw her approach the house, he would just think that she was cold.

She hoped that was what he would think.

Brandy almost flew up the few steps that reached the porch, and turned, to see Mike still standing where she had left him, he smiled and nodded at her.

'You took your time.' He mouthed at her. She pulled a face.

'Five minutes.' He nodded back at her and repeated her words, before glancing down at his watch and then back to her.

'Go.'

Brandy took a deep breath, and walked towards her fate.

Sam Winchester prodded his brother in the ribs gently, but firmly. Dean flinched suddenly his left hand half bating his younger sibling away before seeming to go back to the realm of slumber. Sam sighed.

"Dean."

"Five more minutes." The older brother mumbled, moving his head to find a more comfortable position.

"Dean," Sam began, taking on the air of a disgruntled schoolteacher with a difficult pupil. "You've had the last fifteen minuets. Wake up."

The older hunter rolled his head to glare at the younger, his jaw clenched.

"What time is it?"

"Ten past nine." Dean let out a long groan as he let his head drop forwards. Sam bit back smile. "Ten past nine is a civilised time to get up Dean." His older brother gave him a look of disgust.

"Number one, no it's not. Number two, I've only had two hours worth of sleep-" He sat up in his seat, and began to count on his fingers.

"Actually, you're had about ninety five minutes sleep." Sam interrupted, feeling quite awake and cheerful this morning. Dean gave him a look that could physically kill, his brother grinned and shook his head slightly as the older rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, making a great deal of it stand up on end.

"Anyway, as I was saying, I've had two, I'm rounding up," he quickly added before his brother could get a word in, and then held out two fingers to emphasise his point. "Two hours of sleep in two, count 'em, two days…" He looked despairingly at his younger sibling. "Two."

"Well, really, it's about one day and a-"

"Sam!" Dean moaned, hanging his head. "You're such a geek." He said, half heatedly, too drowsy to say or do anything else. Sammy chuckled gently.

"Dean."

"What?" He snapped his head up. Sam watched him for a moment, enjoying his misery and annoyance, before giving him one of his very best smiles and held out a cup in front of him.

"I got you a coffee." His older brother's eyes lit up suddenly as he glanced from the slowly steaming beverage to his brother and back again.

"Sam," he began, almost like a priest in prayer. "Have I ever told you, I love you?" The younger Winchester let out a laugh as the elder took hold of the container, wrapping his hands around it, letting the warmth spread into his fingers and savouring the aroma, before taking a long gulp.

He let out a sigh as he swallowed, leaning back in the seat to stretch out his legs; he felt the bone in his left give out a small, satisfactory click. He gazed at the cup in his right hand.

"One day, caffeine, I'll make a honest woman out of you…"

Sam raised his eyebrows. Dean didn't notice.

The elder Winchester leant his head back against the rest and let himself shift down in his seat, causing his black jacket to group about his shoulders. Sam watched him for a moment, his left-hand loafing loosely on the steering wheel. He shifted his own legs, looking longingly out the windshield, like a prisoner behind bars. His mind wandered, imaging the relief that would come when he could stand fully and stretch his spine.

The younger sibling glanced once more at the older; Dean was about half way through his coffee, and already he seemed more relaxed, more awake. The muscles in his limbs had unclenched and his jaw had loosened, his temples now soft and peaceful. He blinked slowly, every now and then, as if waking from a long and deeply for filling sleep.

Strange how the beverage in his hand seemed to refresh his brother more than a good night slumber. How the mere psychological effect of caffeine seemed to rejuvenate him completely. Sam was almost certain that his brother would become just as perky if he gave him de-caf.

"Probably taste the difference…" He muttered, absentmindedly, not realising that he had spoken out loud.

Dean turned towards him, forcing himself up once more with a swift push of his legs. He took another thankful gulp of the dark beverage and looked opened eyed, with his eyebrows raised, at Sam, an expression the younger brother knew, whether out of experience or instinct, meant he was questioning what he had just said.

Sam, after a pause of realisation, shrugged, half shaking his head to say that it didn't matter.

"Well," the younger began, inhaling gently through his mouth. "Have you had enough coffee to maintain a coherent conversation or do you need another mouthful?"

Dean paused, mid drink, purposely lowered the cup, stared off into the distance and swirled the warm liquid around in his mouth for a few minutes before swallowing and looking back to his brother.

"I'm good." He answered innocently. Sam knew that the correct course of action would be to scowl, then again, that was probably the reaction Dean wanted. He grinned and shook his head in spite of himself; unable to be irritated when his brother was in such a good of a mood.

"I've got us a room." The younger Winchester said after a moment.

"Awesome." Dean nodded, thinking and staring out the window, only just taking in the fact that they were in the parking lot of a motel. "Where are we again?" Sam began to say the town's name but upon seeing his brother's blank expression he decided on a different approach.

"It's a small town,"

"Aren't they always." Sam breathed out a laugh.

"But this one isn't staying small for long, the population has quadrupled in the last six mouths alone. There's major construction going on, buildings for housing, work places, and entertainment-" Dean looked at his brother suddenly, with renewed interest. "Not that kind of entertainment Dean."

"Figures."

"Anyway, the district is expanding, and rapidly. It's one of America's fastest growing communities-"

"Sam, seriously, skip the five hundred reasons why this is the best place ever, you could sell snow to the penguins, you know that?" Dean interrupted, rolling his neck slightly to un-stiffen the muscles, trying to work out the kinks. "Why are we here? And why is it more important than me sleeping?"

"Well," the younger brother began once more the elder Winchester's remarks like water off a duck's back, now so common to Sam he barely noticed them.

"I did tell you yesterday Dean." The aforementioned nodded slightly for a moment, his mouth open, like a surprised student in a pop quiz, trying to recall information that just wasn't there.

"What was playing?" Sam now gave his brother the raised eyebrows; widened eyed 'sorry?' look.

"What music was playing in the car?" He motioned sharply with his right hand while he kept his left, which was holding the coffee, crystal still. There was a small pause as realisation dawned.

"Oh…Erm, Cream I guess, 'Sun Raise Of Your Love', or something." Sam shrugged slightly.

"It's 'Sunshine Of Your Love.' " The elder Winchester patted his brother patronisingly on the shoulder. "And that makes a lot of sense." He nodded musing to himself and continued to drink his coffee.

Sam waited for a moment, expecting him to explain, after a minute of silence he decided to prompt him.

"Well?" Dean looked at him like he had three heads and Sam lost all hope of normality in his brother.

" 'Sunshine Of Your Love…' "The younger Winchester bent his head ever so slightly to the side, blinking heavily and tensing his cheeks, trying to understand what his brother was saying. " 'Sunshine Of Your Love'…" Dean repeated once more. "It's a classic."

Sam sighed; 'classic' obviously meaning that Dean couldn't concentrate on anything other than the song.

"Anyway, we're in room fourteen." There was a beat as the elder nodded and then they both, simultaneously opened their doors and got out, Dean twisted around to shut his with the same hand to avoid disrupting his drink, while Sam used the other, with a flick of his wrist.

He paused for a moment, stretching out his back and arms before taking his and his brother's duffel bag out of the Impala. Dean rolled his neck and arms in their sockets before arching his back, causing his shirt to ride up slightly. He yawned gently and tugged his clothing back before excepting his bag from his brother. He nodded in thanks and they both began to walk to their room, after locking the car doors.

Sam took the lead slightly, since he located their room first and he had the key.

The air was cool but thankfully still, Dean watched as his breath froze and became mist in the air. The sky was a pale, icy blue, the sun still low in the sky. The elder Winchester half watched it for a moment, careful not to stare directly into its light.

He inhaled deeply, feeling the tingles of cold flow down his throat. He always preferred cold to heat, would rather freeze than fry.

The sky always looked better to him in the colder months, crisper, more hopeful somehow. As if that mattered.

He paused for a moment as Sam opened the door, finishing the coffee in one large gulp and then tossed it into a near by bin, before following his brother inside.

"So, why are we…" Dean shut the door behind him and turned to stand sidebuy side with the younger Winchester. He left his words hanging as he surveyed the room. "Woah."

"Yeah."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

The elder brother walked carefully to the bed furthest away, letting Sam have the nearest and chucked his bag as the foot before falling heavily onto the mattress. The springs groaned mildly.

The younger sibling continued to glance about the room, slightly opened mouthed.

"Sammy, this must be the most normal room we have ever, ever stayed in." He laid out flat thumping his head down on the pillows, and then, after a moment, bending his arms and shifting his hands under the back of his skull.

"Yeah." Sam answered in half confusion, half daze, having seen the garish reception he had been preparing himself for, well, something equally or greater in the realm of garish.

But this was normal, completely normal. Super normal.

"I don't like it." Dean said, almost catching Sam by surprise and forcing him out of his thoughts.

"What?" He asked, almost out of habit before walking over to the unoccupied bed, carefully placing his bag by the side and perching on the edge.

"This room. Feels like I'm in a scene from 'Rosemary's Baby.' " Dean spoke clearly, his eyes closed.

Sam gave a breath of a laugh.

"Dean, I really don't think 'Old Nick' is going to come 'round here looking to do the nasty." The elder Winchester chuckled.

"Well maybe if you tried a little harder with your presentation, Sammy." The younger hunter shook his head, but still enjoying his brother's playful mood. "Anyway, you gonna tell me why we're here?" Sam paused a beat, to take in the white walls, the pale pine wooden furniture.

"Well, while we were still sorting out the banshee-"

"Ugh, don't remind me about the banshee."

"I caught wind of this case, Bobbie gave me the tip off, he said he might join us down here after he's finished with a poltergeist." He paused to draw breath. Dean's eyes were open now, watching him with interest. The elder was quieter now, calm, letting his brother tell the tale, give him the facts before he spoke once more. He smiled slightly at the mention of Bobbie, looking foreword to seeing him again.

"As I said the town's going through an economic boom, lots of old and abandoned houses are being resorted. Any empty land is being built on.

I know that's not usually our problem, but one of the houses being built on," he stopped again to pull several printed out pages from his bag. "Has a rather interesting history. It was built in the nineteen-forties by Ted Vincent, he and his wife Melanie lived in it until their deaths. Ninety sixty-four, for Melanie, nineteen sixty-six for Ted.

It then became the property of one Emily Swan, formally Emily Vincent, Ted and Melanie's only child, she was married in nineteen sixty four, at eighteen years old, to a one Peter Swan. They lived in the house until their deaths in sixty-eight and the house was vacant for five years.

First I thought there might be something suspicious in that, but I managed to look into the economic records on the Internet and there was a serious lull in the market at that time. Seems like no one was really selling house-" Dean gave him the 'you're seriously going off on a tangent look'. "In nineteen seventy three a couple moved in, Paul and Lilly Swindon, Lilly complained of trouble sleeping for about three weeks after they moved in. She saw the local physician, and mentioned than Paul was, and I quote 'having strange mood swings'. Five weeks after they moved in, both were found dead in their homes, heart attacks. Paul was thirty-five, Lilly was thirty-two.

Seventy-six, another couple, Gary, twenty-nine, and Pauline, thirty-one, Greenman, died two weeks after they moved in, heart attacks. There was a mention of 'mood swings', but no sleepless nights.

Seventy-seven, Frank and Jennifer Peterson, both twenty-seven, died six days after moving in."

"Let me guess, heart attacks?"

"Heart attacks. No mention of mood swings. Since then the house has pretty much been abandoned, there's a local rumour that it is haunted.

In the late seventies there was three bodies found, homeless people, all different years, who police assumed entered the building for somewhere to stay for the night.

Through the eighties and nineties there were five deaths, all heart attacks. All victims where under forty. And coroners have no explanation for their sudden deaths. But then again that might be because most were vagabonds, a full scale investigation never took place, no one really cares about people like that I guess." Sam paused, ever so slightly, the thought saddening him deeply.

"Probably thought they all were on drugs or something." Dean muttered gently. His brother nodded in return. "But Sam, I mean, if its been quiet for a while, and no other hunter has picked it up, then maybe, maybe it is all just coincidence." He flinched a little as he said the word.

"Aha!" Sam held up a finger. "That's probably what most would have assumed." The elder Winchester raised his eyebrows, signalling his brother to continue. "Brandy Langan, six days ago, walked into the house for a dare, never came out. Her older brother, Mike, was waiting outside. He was apparently timing her for the dare." Sam stared harder at the paper, almost willing the printed words to change and the answer to appear in front of him. "I'm not quite sure what that's really about, doesn't say." He shifted his gaze to another piece of battered paper. "This is just general information, I haven't seen the police records anything, it's probably gonna be easier just to talk to the family. Anyway when his sister didn't come out after fifteen minutes over the challenge's time, he went in himself to investigate. And he found he dead in the hallway, barely took two steps." Dean mused for a moment, working the information around in his mind.

"So, if he went in, how come whatever got her didn't get him?" Sam carried on looking at his brother for a moment, before checking through the papers once more.

"Erm, ah, well, he didn't stay in the house long. Apparently, after seeing his sister, and checking her pulse he ran out to be, well, to empty his stomach. He told the cops, that he didn't want to go back in, 'there was a feeling to that place, I didn't like it.' That could just be put down to shock, I guess.

But what was weird,"

"I love weird."

"Was that he did mention his phone wouldn't make the call to 911 while he was in the house, even the garden. Just kept getting a strange 'buzzing' noise, 'like breathing'. He also stated that he wanted to stay with his sister's body at first, and that his phone trouble only started after he began to get the 'strange feeling'."

Dean nodded again, still thinking.

"How old was she?" The younger Winchester paused for a moment, not expecting the question, especially from his brother.

"Oh, er, fourteen."

"Hell."

"Yeah."

There was a pause.

"Sammy?" Dean glanced over to him.

"Yeah?"

"Did I never give you weird dares when you were fourteen?" The younger Winchester gave a snort of a laugh.

"Yeah, you did." The elder clinched his jaw slightly. Sam swallowed. "But they were usually to do with me closing my eyes and you jumping out at me." He paused, then added. "Usually brandishing some sort of weapon."

Dean grinned.

Then yawned slightly, he pulled his right hand from under his head to cover his mouth, then rub his eyes. The mistress of sleep calling him home.

"Caffeine jolt wearing off? Seriously your body must be becoming immune." The elder gave a chuckle.

"So what's the plan?" He stretched; repositioning himself, and blinking heavily, the time his lids stayed shut lasting longer each time, like his eyelashes were trying to knit themselves together.

"Well, I want to do some more research on the house first, what I got hold of didn't say how the first four occupants died, I'd like to know if any were heart attacks. Personally I'm betting on Ted Vincent. Could be a history there. See what we get and then head to Langan's house later on to talk to the family."

"Sounds great." Dean muttered, half in the realm of slumber.

"Dean."

"Why don't you go to library and come and get me when you're done…" Sam rolled his eyes slightly, and got to his feet.

"Well, alright, but only because you have had two hours sleep for forty eighth hours, and I'd rather you weren't drowsy when you're meant to be watching my back." There was no answer, no even a cheer of triumph. Even if Dean did complain about going to the library, his brother knew that he really didn't mind it. Just liked winding him up.

He turned to gather the equipment he would need, patting the pocket of his jeans absentmindedly to check the car keys were still there.

"Dean?" Sam said, pulling on his jacket. "Dean?" He tried a little louder, then turned, mouth open, ready to start a sentence and found his brother dead to the world.

Not literally.

The younger Winchester smiled, watching his brothers chest rise and fall for a second, enjoying seeing his sibling so calm. After all this was the only real time when Dean was quiet.

He shifted his bag on his shoulder, pulled at the collar of his white pinstriped shirt, before leaving the room, as quietly as he could.