A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first Supernatural fanfiction so I hope it turns out okay. I probably won't update with the next chapter for a little while since I'm a bit backed up when it comes to writing. I apologize if any of the characters act strange. My family has pretty much blazed through all ten seasons of Supernatural. I started writing this when we were halfway through season five and now that I am currently writing chapter 11, we are watching season 10. I'm still not entirely sure what season this is supposed to be set in, most likely mid or early season 8. Anyway, I'm rambling. Please, enjoy!

The black '67 Chevy Impala raced down the silent night road. To the ordinary eye, the two men sitting inside were simple on a road trip or out driving late after a trip to the local bar. But Sam and Dean Winchester were more than two simple men. They were hunters. Monsters hunters. Their last hunting trip had left them physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. They needed somewhere to crash, but the next motel wasn't for miles.

Dean traced an absent minded finger across the radio switch. Sam was happily snoring away in the seat next to him. His older brother was feeling overdue for a nap himself. It was Sammy's turn to drive. He jammed the radio's ON button and 'Heat of the Moment' blared through the stereo.

Sam nearly jumped right through the roof of the car and quickly switched it off. "Jeez Dean. You wanna wake me up poke me, or shout. Just don't play that song. Never that one."

"Rise and shine, Princess. It's your turn to drive," Dean snorted, pulling over.

Sam rubbed his eyes and opened his passenger side door. "Remind me again where we're going," he yawned.

"West Chester, Pennsylvania," Dean replied, sliding comfortably into the passenger seat, "An old friend of Bobby's left a message on his phone, telling him to come out immediately because bad things were happing. I called her back and she said that lights were blinkin', kids were having scares in the middle of the night, rooms feeling cold. Normal boring crap like that."

"Well clearly not normal if we're investigating," Sam sighed, shining a flashlight down on their map.

"Oh that was a few months ago. Now Ms. Arcelor, single mother of three, says that lights ain't just flickering. They turn themselves on and off as they please. Cold spots are hittin' the house just before every accident. One morning her daughter even woke up with a crappy haircut that she most certainly did not have when she went to bed."

"I don't know, man. Does that sound like a trickster to you?"

After a moment of thought, Dean shook his head. "Nah. It's not a trickster's style, ya know what I mean?"

"Poltergeist?"

"Hmm," was Dean's only response.

Sam rubbed his tired eyes again and set down the map. "Okay. We're about thirty miles from town. You wanna camp here or wait til we get to a motel?"

"Drive on, Sammy. Motel beds beat this. No offense, baby. Smooth ride, just not a comfortable bed." Dean turned over and rested his cheek against the window while his brother shook his head and smiled. Then he pulled the gear back to 'drive' and zoomed away back down the road.

The Winchester brothers were back on the hunt.

...

Dean groaned and turned over in his bed.

"Good morning, Dean," Sam called from the adjacent bed.

His older brother groaned again and rolled onto the floor. "Time is it?" he groaned against the floorboards.

"Morning."

"Well thank you, Captain Obvious. Without your vague answers the world would be lost." Dean struggled up and pulled on a t-shirt. "What's the plan, Sammy?" he asked heading into the bathroom.

"Uh, the usual I guess. Go to the house. Talk to the family. Hey, don't we usually investigate murders?"

"Don't worry about it, Sammy boy," Dean said, with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, "That's the point. We gotta catch it before any murders DO start."

Sam nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

"Okay. Breakfast first though. I'm starved." Dean threw on his jacket and grabbed the Impala keys, but Sam stayed put. "You comin' Sammy?"

His younger brother squinted out the side window and sighed again. "Yeah, it's just... I don't know. Something about this job feels weird. Like, different. You know?"

Dean thought about it for a minute. "No," he flatly replied, "Ain't nothing wrong with the job, Sammy. Just your imagination. Come on. We got work to do."

With that, Sam sighed one final time, leapt off the bed, and followed his brother out the door of the motel.

...

'Ding dong' Dean straightened his shirt and gently tapped his toe. His brother was looking particularly troubled. "You alright, man?"

Sam seemed confused. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. You kinda weirded out on me this morning. Like you didn't want to do the job."

"What? No. That's crazy."

"So do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Wanna do the job?"

"Yeah, of course I do."

"You sure?"

"Why wouldn't I-"

The door to the house swung open and a very friendly looking middle aged woman smiled at the brothers. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs. Arcelor," Sam greeted, "I'm Sam and this is Dean. We're friends of Bobby Singer. We heard about your problems. Could we come in?"

"Oh thank God," said Ms. Arcelor, "I've been calling for days, but I was afraid no one would ever answer. Please. Come in." She opened the door a bit wider and the brothers stepped inside. "For weeks now the bulbs would not stop blinking. Every night without fail. And then there was this weird... Oh you don't want to hear about that. Have a seat. Would you like some sandwiches?"

Dean opened his mouth, so Sam quickly intervened. "No thank you. We'd like to talk to you for a bit if you don't mind."

"Sure, of course."

They settled themselves on the sofa across from the woman. "When did your lights start acting up, Ms. Arcelor?" Dean asked.

"About five weeks ago now. They were just blinking then. Now they almost seem to turn themselves on and off."

"And you vaguely mentioned that other things were happening."

"Oh it's silly really."

"But you thought Bobby might want to know about your electricity problems?" Sam said, encouraging her to go on.

She huffed. "Well, it's almost like a... hissing whispering noise outside my window at night. I know it's probably just my imagination. Or, heaven forbid, a gas leak."

"A hissing, whispering?" Sam said, tilting his head.

"It sounds silly. I know."

"It's the boy," called a voice from the hall.

Ms. Arcelor sighed. "Johnny. Please don't interrupt when guests are here."

"Who's this?" Sam asked softly, peering down at the little boy who was half hiding behind the wall.

"That's my youngest, Jonathon. He's very shy."

"What do you mean by 'the boy'?" Sam asked him.

Johnny glared at the ground then took off down the hall. His mother shook her head sadly. "Ever since we moved here he's been extremely unhappy. He's used to be so bright and cheery and now he just... And he talks to himself in his room. Then he turns around and tells me that 'the boy' is haunting this house and that we need to go."

"And- and who is the boy?" Sam inquired.

The woman shrugged. "He won't tell me a thing."

"Right..." There was a brief silence.

Ms. Arcelor sighed again. "I'm so sorry. You don't want to be hearing about my family. The lights."

"Yahtzee," Dean replied.

"We'll get right to that," Sam said, "But I have to ask, where is your restroom?"

"Just down the front hall. Second door on your right."

"Thank you." Sam rose from his seat started down the hallway, the voice of his brother talking about electrical circuits echoing after him. Another voice was rising above Dean and Ms. Arcelor. A little voice coming from down the hall was humming quietly.

Sam stepped into the dining room and found Johnny sitting at the otherwise empty table, drawing on several sheets of paper. His legs swung about a foot off the ground. "Hey Johnny," Sam said in his friendliest tone, "How're you?"

The boy didn't respond.

"That's great. Do you like your new home?"

Dead silence.

"You must've moved pretty far."

"..."

"You know your mom's worried about you."

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

A smile met Sam's face, relaxing the muscles in his forehead. "That's okay. We don't need to talk. That's a nice picture you're drawing there."

It was in fact an incredible image for someone of Johnny's age, which couldn't have been more than seven years. "You'd make a great artist someday. I'll bet you've thought of that before, huh? Who taught you how to draw? Your dad, or-"

"My dad ran away."

"Oh..."

"I was a baby..."

Sam lowered his eyes. "I'm real sorry about that, Johnny." He sat in a chair next to the little boy's and picked up one of the images. It was of a little raven haired girl sitting on a pink bed. "This is incredible. Who taught you how to draw?"

Johnny grabbed the image from Sam's hands and set it aside. "I didn't draw that one."

"Well who did?"

"The boy did."

Sam leaned forward. "Who is the boy, Johnny?"

"I don't know him. I just see him sometimes. And sometimes he'll leave me things. Like the drawing." He was quiet and Sam was, for a moment, afraid that he wouldn't go on. "He's angry with my mommy. We wants us to leave."

"Why would he want you to leave, Johnny?"

"I don't know. He throws things. He plays in the lights. He even cut my sissy's hair once. It was bad. And every night he comes to stand in my room."

"You've seen him in your room?" Sam's voice had dropped to a whisper by now.

Johnny's voice was just as low. "Yeah. He stands over my bed and whispers, 'Eva. Eva.'"

Sam nodded. "Do you know what's he's talking about?"

Johnny shook his head. "No. He's not scary though. He's very nice when he's not angry."

"And he's never hurt you?"

The little boy shook his head again. "He's my brother's age. He has dark hair and pretty eyes."

Sam nodded again. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Nope." With that, the boy was back to drawing. Sam took that as his signal to leave. He stepped out of the room and headed back towards the living room.

Dean was still speaking with Ms. Arcelor. Sam cleared his throat and his brother got the message. "Thank you so much for your time," Sam said, "We'll probably run by tomorrow to check up, but for now I think everything's in order."

Ms. Arcelor still looked extremely worried, but she nodded silently. "Thank you boys for coming."

...

Dean groaned and put his face in his hands. "I seriously don't get it," he said.

"Well we've dealt with worse before," Sam offered, "To be quite honest, it sounds pretty simple."

"... But what is it?!"

Sam sighed. "Honestly. I have no idea. I'm digging up some stuff on the house as we speak, but so far it seems pretty clean. The only thing that stands out is that three different families have lived there in the past year."

"I suppose that's a bit odd…" Dean considered his options. "I'mma call Garth and see if he can help. Keep digging." He whipped out his phone and left the room.

Sam ran his fingers through his hair. Poltergiest was ruled off. He'd have caused far more mischief by now. It wasn't a trickster. Not a vengeful spirit. It wasn't angry. Who or what was 'Eva'?

"Hello Sam."

The hunter jumped violently. "Jeez Cas! Would it kill you to announce yourself?"

"Where's Dean?" demanded the trenchcoated angel.

"Making a phone call. What do you need?" asked Sam, regluing his eyes to his laptop screen.

The angel didn't reply.

Sam absently noted him crossing the room and highly noted Castiel slamming the computer shut on his fingertips. "Ow! Come on! What?!" He glared up at Cas, holding the fingers of his left hand.

The angel looked deadly serious. "I must speak with Dean."

"He's busy," Sam emphasized, "What is it? Some secret angel business?"

"It's about the case."

"This case? Here? We've got it covered, Cas. Don't worry."

"Tell Dean you need to stop working the case."

Sam blinked. "Uh, why?"

"I can't explain at the moment, but it is imperative that you no longer pursue this job."

"Why?"

Castiel scowled. "This is different than your other jobs."

"Are we thinking of the recent jobs, or the easy jobs?"

"It's dangerous. There are things in this case that you will come across that are far different than what you are used to dealing with."

"Cas, whatever it is, we can handle it. It's not that big of a deal."

The angel looked him straight in the eye. "Yes. It is." And then he was gone.

Dean opened the door less than two seconds later. "Okay, so Garth's hit a dead end too. He said poltergeist was looking promising, but that's gotta be scratched off the list now. He said he has no idea what the hell we're dealing with. What'd you find? You look like you've seen a ghost," he commented, snickering to himself.

Sam's mouth was hanging open. "C- Cas was here," he stuttered.

Dean looked alarmed. "What? When?"

"While you were outside. He wants us to stop working the case."

"Why?" He sounded almost angry.

"He says this one is different. That it's dangerous. And that we'll come across things that we've never come across before."

"So the normal B.S then, huh?"

Sam shook his head. "Dean, he's never done this before. I mean, he seemed really nervous about something."

"What could be so different? Spirit floats around the house, flickerin' lights, making cold spots, scaring the kid. It's just like any other job."

"Yeah Dean. Except it's not. He's not purposefully terrorizing the kids. Johnny said he's even nice to him sometimes."

"A spirit being nice to a kid? Fat chance. Probably just the kid's imagination."

"Or maybe you're just overreacting about the whole thing. I mean, we could have an extremely harmless or an extremely dangerous ghost on our hands."

"What the hell, man? You've never been like this over a case."

"I'm telling you. Something is different about this one. I just can't put my finger on it."

Dean sighed and slowly shook his head. He snatched the keys off the table.

"Where're you going?" Sam asked.

"For a drive." He slammed the door behind him.

It was never really a big deal, but Sam hated to fight with his brother. He opened his laptop back up to continue his research, hoping his brother wouldn't be gone too long.