The night hung low above Winona in Minnesota as Dean dropped the ugly yellow curtain that was hanging in front of the dirty window of the shitty motel room that he was sharing with his brother and his father - whenever the old man decided to remember that he indeed had a family, two sons that were waiting for him at this place they had to call their temporary home for as long as it would take their father to get back to them. If he would get back to them, that was. Dean was not a neat freak per se, but he liked things at least clean enough so that he would not need to worry about the questionable stains on the thin fabric of the curtains or the mustard colored carpet. Hell, the entire motel room looked like it was stuck in the sixties or seventies. It was a mishmash of colors, orange, yellow and green all mixed together in an unpleasant whirlwind of nostalgia. He had seen quite a lot growing up in places like this and was far from being innocent in most regards. He could tell blood stains from the stains left behind by a copulating couple that was probably cheating on their spouses in dirty motel rooms like this.

Ignorance was bliss, as far as Dean was concerned.

However, in addition to suspicious stains on the furniture, carpet or curtains, there was another thing to worry about that Dean Winchester was always carrying around with him, an additional piece of baggage, so to say. Sammy tended just to get angry with their father whenever John decided that he needed to leave them again for an indefinite amount of time to hunt down some monster that had done nothing to them in the hopes that this very monster would bring him closer to finding his wife's killer. Sammy would rage and rave about it after their dad would have broken the news to them without even accepting any kind of objections from his kids as if their opinion wouldn't matter. He never seemed to consider that they wouldn't like him to be gone for a while and a part of Dean sometimes wondered if his father just did not care that they cared.

But while Sammy would be furious with their father, Dean would help him pack his stuff, check his guns and knives to make sure that they were in proper working condition, and reassure him that he would have everything under control during his father's absence. On the outside, he was the tough big brother who always knew exactly what to do, the obedient and loyal son who would never question his father's orders. On the inside, however, he was still that little four-year-old boy that was scared shitless whenever his father would walk out that door. It was not so much the being alone with Sam part that frightened him so much that he hardly slept during weeks like these. It was the possibility that his father might not return.

His father - they - were leading a dangerous life. Hunting monsters was not a Sunday afternoon walk in the park and Dean, unlike Sam, was very aware of the possibility that their father might get seriously injured or even die on one of his trips. They had an arrangement, he and his father. John would get in contact with them every two days just to assure Dean that he was still alive. This was their failsafe. Every two days, his father would call at exactly seven PM. Then again it hardly was a failsafe, wasn't it? Because if there wouldn't be a call after two days if he would have died out there, there really was nothing that Dean could do about it. He would just know, he guessed. And every time his father would be a little late with his calls, Dean would freak out on the inside. He would start thinking of all the horrifying implications this missing call could have. His father might lie injured in the woods somewhere and die from his injuries without anyone being able to help. Or some monster might have killed him. Sometimes even the thought occurred to him, that their father might have finally abandoned them for real. And when the call would finally come, he would feel relieved and stupid all at once.

Despite how much of a jerk his father often was to him, he was still his dad and Dean still loved him. He still wanted to make him proud. Maybe that was the problem in all of this. He still cared too much what his father thought about him and if he was a good son in John's eyes even though he knew that he was in his own eyes at least. There really was not much he could do besides what he was already doing for his father and though a quiet voice in his head told him that this should be enough for John to realize that he was indeed a good son and his greatest supporter, Dean still wanted more. But that was his problem, he figured. Not his dad's, not Sammy's, only his and he was the one person who needed to deal with those insecurities. But that was human nature, wasn't it? Every person always wanted more than they would get and they would get more and more frustrated because of it. And even if they would get what they desired, the promotion at work, the girl they liked, the new pair of shoes or the new car, the satisfaction would wear off sooner or later and leave them empty and wanting more again. Overindulgence was the death of humankind - at least according to one of his teachers.

Yet, as he was standing at this dirty window now, watching the snow outside fall gingerly to the ground to cover the entire town of Winona under a thick white blanket, and waited for a call that might not even come, he was already going through his emergency plan for the third time since the appointed time had gone by.

If his father would not have called by midnight, he would have to call Bobby and tell him about the situation. If Bobby hadn't heard of their dad either, they, he and Sammy, would pack up their stuff, get out of this motel, and either take the next bus to Sioux Fall or wait for Bobby to pick them up in his old and funny smelling truck. This was the plan he and his dad had agreed upon a while ago after John had started to leave his boys for longer than just a few days at once and started to travel farther without them and so this was the plan Dean would follow.

»Dean« Sam's voice sounded beyond annoyed at this point as Dean was tapping the phone in his right hand against his chin repeatedly, lost in thought for the moment. He had not even realized that he was doing it, but Sam's voice made it crystal clear that he did and that it did, in fact, annoy the living crap out of his eleven-year-old baby brother.

»What.« He answered as he turned away from the window and towards Sam who sat on the small couch that was part of the interior of this palace they were living in right now. The thick kind of velvety fabric that was coating the couch looked dirty and worn off by the years. The TV was running and by the looks of it, the news was already almost over. Sam was a weird kid indeed, for he insisted on watching the news every evening almost religiously - especially when their father wasn't around. A part of Dean wondered if Sam wanted to check if there were any reports of dead bodies that had turned up under suspicious circumstances or if he was maybe afraid to see their father's face on the news as an unidentified victim of a crime.

The weatherman was just pointing excitedly at the map on the side, as Dean coked one eyebrow at his brother and tried to play his nervousness down as best as he could. Sammy could never know how anxious his big brother really was. The day Sam would start to see right through that, would be a dark day in Dean's life. He did not want to be unmasked as the liar he was by his brother, but he knew, of course, that it was only a matter of time now that Sammy was slowly growing into an adult. At some point, he would confront Dean about all the lies he was telling constantly, starting by the 'I'm fine', whenever Sam would ask him if he was alright. He didn't want to be seen as a liar by his brother but that was just who he was.

»You're doing it again.« Sam remarked as he quietly pointed towards the phone in Dean's hand.

»What?«

»These nervous ticks!«

»I don't have nervous ticks, Samantha.«

»You tap the phone against your chin.« Sometimes his brother was a little too observant for Dean's taste. He did not like it that his brother started to pick up on those little quirks of his and that he could so easily tell when he was getting anxious already. He was the big brother, the older brother and he was supposed to be calm and collected all the time, wasn't he? Sam was not supposed to see him for who he really was. No yet. Then again, in Dean's eyes, Sammy would always continue to be a toddler.

»That's hardly a nervous tick.«

»Yes, it is.« Sam sighed. »The phone call won't come any faster just because you stand around and wait for it, you know? Why are you waiting for it anyway? It's not like dad would care, is it? He would be more punctual if he would care. We could be out there and have fun, instead, we sit here and wait for him - again.« He had a point and Dean knew it but he had decided not to acknowledge that as a fact.

»You want to go out there and have fun?« Dean replied with a small laugh escaping his lips. »Like what, you party animal? Do you want to have drinks at the bar around the corner? I've heard the barmaid is a damn hot chick.« Just the way Sam was complaining to him practically forced him to mock his little brother and who would he be would he not do just that? He was an awesome big brother, yes, but that just meant that he would not let anyone torture his baby brother and not that he wouldn't torture his baby brother!

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean strolled over to him, the phone still in his hand, tapping against his thigh now instead as if that would make it any less obvious to the ever-observant Sammy. »I meant more like going to the movies or something like that.« He replied with a little scowl on his face that would be adorable would Sam still be the chubby little guy he used to be.

»Or going to that barn to find out more about that ghost?« Suddenly, Sam wasn't so cool anymore as his lips shrunk into a very thin, very straight line. He looked as if he had tried to put a ruler into his mouth square. For a moment, Sam even moved his attention back to the TV as if that way he would escape his big brother and his stupid questions. »I mean you wanted to go after that ghost after all, didn't you?«

»Of course!« He gave his best to sound adamant and compelling but Dean looked right through that facade of his with no problem whatsoever. After all, he had raised this boy up to this point and he knew when Sam was trying to sell him a lie.

»So … Why you chickened out on me two times already then?« Dean had never read a book on how to be a perfect brother, but he was pretty sure it involved a lot of teasing of younger siblings.

»I just didn't want to go during school nights, that's all.« The excuse was weak and they both knew that but at least Sam had the decency to blush at least ever so slightly.

»So … Tonight then?« Dean pressed on with a grin and ruffled through Sam's hair just to annoy his baby brother further who almost decided to throw a pillow at him. Dean could see it in the way his ears suddenly twitched. But before Sam had the chance to throw anything at him, the phone rang and without hesitation, Dean immediately picked it up, much to his brother's annoyance as Sam pulled a grimace at the way Dean answered the phone right away. »Dad?« Dean's voice sounded way too weak and hopeful, even in his own ears and he was aware that his father would not like that sound at all.

»Dean.« His father replied in his usual gruff voice before he cleared his throat. »Is everything alright over there?« He would never ask him how he was or how Sammy was. It was always the same question and he did not expect to hear any answer but a yes. They could both be out cold with a dangerously high fever and still, Dean would say that everything was just fine because that was what his dad wanted to hear and as long as he would get to hear what he wanted, everything would turn out okay.

»Yes, Sir.« As he threw a glance at Sam out of instinct, he saw how Sam frowned at his choice of words and huffed a breath of air as if to mock him, but Dean ignored him as he strolled back to his spot near the window where he had waited for that damned call before. »How's the hunt going?«

»Not too well, actually.« The sigh that his father let out on the other end of the line made Dean's back feel a little tenser than before as was always the case when he was talking to his father. Dean knew in what a bad mood his father usually was when a hunt was not going as planned but he noticed how relaxed he sounded despite that. Odd. » I've got a lead on those bastards here in Windom but it appears as if they moved already. Their nest was discarded as if they left in a hurry. Maybe they got a tip that there was a hunter on their trail. They aren't here anymore at least. So, I will probably need a couple of days longer than expected. Maybe even one or two weeks longer.«

Dean's first impulse was to object. They didn't have enough money for such a long time. How would he feed Sam when the money was exhausted by the end of next week? His father had planned for two weeks and left them the money accordingly and even two weeks would be tight with a budget as small as this. Well, he could always try to steal food, he guessed. For the first time in a long while, however, their dad actually seemed to have thought about this matter and that, in turn, made Dean a little suspicious. It was conversations like this when he was worried that their father would indeed leave them behind for good.

»Listen, Dean. If it takes me longer than two weeks, maybe you boys have to go to Bobby. I'm sure he has no problem with taking you guys in for a while.« Dean always loved being at Bobby's place, yet, he interrupted his father immediately despite his impulse to agree or rather pack up his stuff and leave this goddamn town for good to just go straight to Bobby instead.

»Don't worry, Dad. We've got this. Focus just on your hunt, I'll handle everything over here.«

»I know that you will, Dean.« His father replied and Dean imagined he had heard a bit of warmth creeping into this gruff voice that he was so used to hearing yell at him instead. »I know that I can depend on you for taking good care of Sammy.« His heart was skipping a beat and he knew how stupid that was. Still, he could not stop the small grin from pulling on the corners of his mouth. He would show his dad that he would manage without him even if it would take longer. Sammy would be able to go to that stupid science fair of his class and Dean would visit and support his brother like the cheerleader he was on the inside. If it meant he wouldn't eat for two more weeks, so be it. The truth was, Dean loved hearing the praise of his dad. He didn't care for being praised generally because most people threw praises around like a good morning and so he always felt like it wouldn't mean anything. This was different with his dad, though. His dad always meant it when he would praise Dean for something and it was so rare that it was quite addictive when he would get it.

»Alright.« Dean replied and gave his best not to sound too happy. »Oh, and listen, Dad. Sammy might have found a case for us too.«

»A case?« Now his father's interest seemed sparked again and Dean felt his heart gave a little jump at this. Maybe there was another thing he could impress his dad with.

»Yeah, he told me about an urban legend here in Winona. A ghost that haunts a barn just outside town.« This time Sam did throw a pillow at him as Dean was making scary ghost noises to mock him a little further. »We thought to check it out tonight, what do you think?«

»Dean.« And there it was again, the usually disappointed-dad voice that his father had brought to perfection over all those years. »This is nothing to make fun of and you know that better than anyone else. I expect you to take these things a little more seriously or otherwise you won't live very long.«

»Dad-«

»And I don't think you should go to that place - especially not with Sam. It's too dangerous. You know how those urban legends go, Dean. I thought you would be more intelligent than to drag your brother into this as well. You are not a hunter, Dean and you could put the both of you in serious danger. Really, I would have thought I taught you better than this.« That was how quickly an otherwise pleasant conversation with his dad could turn sour in an instant.

»We haven't even done anything yet, Dad!«

»No and it's better this way too, Dean! I try to be as quickly as possible with my hunt before you can come up with another of these genius ideas of yours. I need to get going now.« There was a small pause on the other end of the line and Dean almost expected an apology but knowing his dad he would probably never get it. »Take care of Sam. See you in a bit.«

Of course. His dad hung up on him before Dean could even spit out a reply at this. He held onto the phone for a moment longer, the plastic pressed to his right ear and listening intently to the dial tone after his father had hung up as if he expected that there would be something else, something more perhaps. His frustration was unbearable. Had he been high from the small bit of praise he had received first, now he felt as if his father had punched him in the guts. There was really nothing new about this and yet it hurt like hell and he hated it that it did. He wished he would be a little stronger and not falter like this every time his daddy would be a little mean to him.

Then again, his dad was always mean to him. That was his way of making Dean stronger, of preparing him for the real world and the dangers of hunting.

»So, what did Dad say?« Sam chirped from the dirty rotten old green couch and Dean noticed now that he was kneeling on the cushions, his body facing Dean and his hands resting on the backrest as Dean slowly lowered the phone and carelessly threw it onto his own bed that was closest to the window. Well, his own bed for the time being until their dad would come back to claim it.

Dean avoided looking at Sam's face - or to be more precise his eyes - as he cleared his throat a little and straightened his back. »Nothing.« He replied as nonchalant as possible. »He'll probably be gone a little longer than he expected. If he needs longer than two weeks, he said we should go to Bobby.« As he looked at Sam now, he knew exactly what he was in for. He didn't get disappointed as Sam's resentment towards their father only took a flash of a second to manifest.

»What about school?« He exclaimed immediately, his voice slightly higher in pitch than it would usually be before he exploded into his little rant. »We have a science fair coming, didn't you tell Dad? You promised me we could stay long enough this time! You promised me I could partake in that this time! You promised me I could be like any other kid in school for once!«

It wasn't as if Sam's words wouldn't sting deep down. Of course, they did. He loved his brothers more than anything in the world and wanted only the best for his life. He wanted that Sam would be able to experience being a normal kid and later a normal teenager. He didn't want Sam to be dragged through all of this every time his father got a new lead to the monster that killed their mother. He wanted Sam to be able to stay in the same school for longer than a month, for god's sake! And yes, he had promised him all those things although he had known that it was not his place to do this. And now he felt guilty that Sam might not get to experience all of this again.

»Of course I told him. I told him before he left, actually. He wanted to know why you were so royally pissed at him the night before. He said he might be back in time.« Dean lied and yet he did so without even batting a lash. »So, if you would untangle your panties and grab your stuff, we could go and hunt a ghost now. Or are you too afraid?«

»I'm not afraid!« Angry or not, Sam was still a child and taunting him still worked miracles.

»Are you sure? Because if you are, I would understand that, Sammy. Facing your first real monster is always an experience, you know? Nothing for the faint of heart, let me tell you. If you are too scared there is no shame in admitting this and we could just stay here and watch TV instead.«

Sam jumped off the couch and switched off the TV in no time before he stomped through the motel room to grab his thick jacket, scarf, and hat. Dean couldn't help but smirk at the display of his pouting brother who was oh so very determined now to proof his douchey big brother wrong. He knew exactly how he could get to Sam. Hopefully that would never change but the guilt he felt still weighed heavily on Dean's shoulders. He himself had no interest in school or anything that was connected to school, so he didn't care for something as stupid as a science fair, but Sam did and he wanted to support his brother in his academic endeavors. After all, their father was not going to do so. And Sam was smart! Hell, he was really bright and Dean wanted him to do something with this brain of his someday. The hunting life was not for his brother and that Dean knew and although the thought of having to part ways with his brother at one point in his life when their lives would go in different directions, he wanted him to succeed. And, yes, a part of him envied him. Sam was lapping up knowledge as if it were milk. No matter what it was, he had it down in no time.

»We're going.« Sam decided with a dark scowl on his face and ripped Dean from his thoughts. He managed to camouflage his little moment of self-pity by shrugging his shoulders before he grabbed his old leather jacket from his bed. He would need a new one soon, the sleeves were starting to get a bit too short and tight.

»As you wish.«

Outside it was snowing in thick heavy flakes as it had been almost the entire week ever since his dad left and so the walkways were covered in a chunky layer of powdery white snow wherever no one had cared to clear up the path. Dean was not a fan of snow or cold weather in general and under his four layers of clothing, he was shivering enough to make him regret his decision to go ghost hunting with his baby brother during weather like this. At least Sam did not seem bothered by the cold. No wonder, really. He was wearing Dean's old blue down jacket. It was still a bit too big for Sam but he would grow into it in no time. Dean's old red hat and gloves were keeping his head and hands warm and the scarf was an item he got from Bobby during their last visit after Sam had lost his old one somewhere. Needless to say that Sam's outfit was as mismatched in colors as it could get but none of them really cared for fashionable outfits anyway. Dean himself only had a thick pair of leather boots, his jeans, a undershirt, a t-shirt, his trusty red flannel and his leather jacket. That had to suffice, he assumed.

It was only eight PM as they made their way outside of the small town, armed only with flashlights, salt from their kitchen and an iron bar each which they got from their father's supplies. Dean always kept one next to his bed, just in case the salt lines in front of the windows or door would ever get disturbed and something managed to creep inside. One could never be too careful and Dean had learned from his experience with the shtriga all those years ago. Still, seeing his brother with an iron bar made him feel uneasy, to stay truthful. Sam shouldn't know how to hunt ghosts yet. He was only eleven. He was pretty much still a baby. But Dean had egged him on and now there was no going back anymore.

No, that was not the entire truth and he knew that. It wasn't so much that he wanted to scare Sammy with this little excursion into the ghosthunting world. He was almost fairly certain that there really wasn't a ghost anyway that could pose any danger to them and yet he was on his way to this barn. Why? Because if there was a ghost, he would kill it. He would kill it and prove to his father that he was indeed a capable hunter, that he could handle himself, that he could protect Sam and that he was ready for more. Maybe then his father would finally find it in himself to trust him a little more. That was really all he wanted.

Hell, he even felt stupid thinking like that. If his dad would ever hear words like this come out of his mouth he would probably question whether he was a real man or not - or smack him through the room. Only girls would talk like that and Dean knew all too well that neither he nor his father really had the time to busy their heads with stupid thoughts like these. They needed to focus on other things. They had more important stuff in their life. More important even than school or Sammy's stupid science fair.

Despite the quite early time of night, the world was pitch black around them and only the snow was reflecting the light of the streetlamps and the moon in a glistening white. A beautiful and stark contrast against the blackness all around them. But Dean had neither the time nor the mindset to admire the beauty of nature right in this moment. He wanted to get to that barn as quickly as possible and be back home before midnight to curl up under a mountain of blankets to get a bit of rest. Hell, tomorrow he could sleep in. How awesome was that?

Now that their dad wasn't home, they each had a bed to themselves and though Dean didn't mind sharing a bed with his brother, he thought it was nice for Sam to have his own from time to time. He, however, would have a hard time sleeping in his father's bed sometimes, especially after an argument with the old man. The bed smelled like his father and that sometimes made him uneasy. As a child, he had sought comfort in his father's smell but now that he was a teenager, it wasn't so easy anymore. He knew that the monsters would not leave him just because he would huddle under his dad's thick leather jacket in search of safety. The only thing he could do was to exhaust himself enough not to care.

»Dean!« Sam's voice ripped him from his thoughts as the little guy suddenly gripped his right forearm hard. Only as he looked down on him did Dean realize that Sam was pointing ahead. And really, there it was. Not even a mile outside the town line with its closely spaced family homes, alongside endless streets, lay the old abandoned farmhouse Sam had talked about and in the darkness, Dean could see the barn rising against a black sky, looking almost menacingly down on them from the small hill it was sitting upon surrounded by fallow acres.

»Well then, looks lovely, doesn't it?« Dean grinned and nudged Sam's shoulder before he strode on with confident steps. He made extra sure that Sam had to hurry to catch up to him before Dean could reach the farm.

As Dean reached the barn with its wide-open gates, he gulped down hard on the lump in his throat. Had the barn looked menacing before even from a distance now it was absolutely horrifying. Sam was quick to catch up to him this time but as Dean looked down at his little brother, he could already see that Sam wanted to be anywhere but here in this very moment. He guessed that he could still turn around and leave now, but to his big surprise, it was Sam who now strode onwards. Apparently, he took it a lot more seriously than Dean had expected him to after he had taunted him a little before. Well, then again, he should have probably expected that much. He knew how stubborn his brother could be. That was, after all, the big problem between Sammy and their dad.

Dean followed inside without much hesitation despite the fact that this place was far from being welcoming. »So where is that ghost of yours now, huh?« He asked as he was slowly making his way alongside the walls of the barn after they had entered. There wasn't much to see anyway, only the beams of their flashlights that go caught on metal here and there. Apparently, most of the stuff that had been inside a long time ago was gone, taken as the family had left or stolen by those who could use the things left behind. Now it was nothing more than a forgotten storage, he assumed and the things that had been left were slowly rotting away.

There was an old rusty pitchfork resting against the wooden wall to his left next to an old workbench. A few tools lay strewn about from which the light of Dean's flashlight reflected back at him. The head of a hammer was still lying around but the handle was missing. Sam was mirroring him as Dean noticed out of the corner of his right eye on the other side of the barn, and he did his best to suppress a small grin at this revelation, though it was hardly a new one anyway. Sam had always done that and he guessed that was pretty normal for younger siblings. They tried to imitate their older brothers and sisters to a certain degree to learn and to become their own persons one day or another.

»I don't know.« Sam replied in a hushed whisper as he was exploring the right side of the barn. The beam of his flashlight got caught on a hook above their heads, hanging from one of the crossbeams. Further back one of the crossbeams looked like it had snapped in two like a twig. Above it, there was a hole in the roof of the barn through which snow was free to fall straight to the ground, making the place look even more eerie than it would anyway. »That's the spot where the old Henderson hung himself!« Sam exclaimed but kept his voice down as much as possible as if he was really afraid that the ghost of the old Henderson would come out and kill him if he was too loud.

»Well, if that's the spot, he sure as hell had a bit too much weight on his hips, I guess.« Crossbeams like these did not snap like this just because some guy would hang himself from it. The alleged ghost had lived on these grounds with his family and it was obvious that he would have taken care of his property. So, this exact crossbeam being so rotten that it would break under his weight when he had hung himself from it, was, in Dean's eyes, highly unlikely. Those beams were designed to hold the structure of the barn together, after all. No, if there was a ghost and if it was the ghost of the former owner of this place, and if he had hung himself inside the barn, he had not done it from this crossbeam. He ventured on without paying too much attention to his brother now. In the back, he noticed a pile of chairs stacked together like legos at the far wall. He found a lot more of this old furniture in the back, old tables, and chairs, gardening tools, even a child's crib that had been stored away in this barn at one point. All of the things looked old, almost ancient in Dean's eyes.

Dean was about to turn back to his brother and call this whole thing off now that they had seen the place and Sam got the chance to have this little adventure, as the beam of his flashlight caught on something more interesting. He threw another look back to where Sam was still searching through the old abandoned stuff that had been left behind and walked further down so that he was out of his brother's line of sight. He found a pile of old paintings and photographs from the early thirties, maybe. Beautiful stuff for people who cared for this kind of trash.

The antique mirror that stood leaned against the wall, however, caught his attention. The glass was stained and almost completely blind by the years it had spent in this unfriendly environment, but the frame seemed pure silver and rich in decoration. It had probably been a really beautiful piece at one point in its life but now it was in here and the world had forgotten about it all together. A part of him wondered what things this mirror might have seen in its life and how old it was. Weird that he felt so drawn to it. Well, if they would steal it, they could maybe melt down the silver and make bullets out of them, he assumed. He would tell his dad about it and- Oh yes, well, he couldn't do that now, could he? After all, he had gone against his dad's orders just now.

A part of him hoped that there was a ghost that he could hunt down. If he would manage to do that, his father would surely not mind him going against his orders. He would be proud of him instead.

»Dean?« Sam's voice sounded from the front of the barn and Dean shook the feeling of nostalgia that had crept up on him like a phantom off before he turned around to walk back to Sammy. He stopped only a second after he had done so as he realized that now was the moment to give his brother the much-needed scare that would keep him from going on a hunt on his own anytime soon.

»There's nothing here, Sammy. I think we should go back and call it-« He made sure to sound as nonchalant as possible as his boots were crunching over the ground of the barn as he stepped away from the mirror before he interrupted himself and threw his flashlight on the ground before him, just to hide in the shadows of the abandoned furniture so that Sammy would not be able to see him right away.

»Dean?« Sam's voice sounded a little concerned at first and as no response from Dean came, his steps towards the back of the barn became a little more hurried, his voice more panicked. »Dean!«

Never in his life, Dean had had a harder time to bite back laughter at the sound of his brother's frantic footsteps and the fear in his voice as he reached the spot where Dean's flashlight lay on the ground, casting dark and foreboding shadows on the wall behind Sam. He had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from bursting into laughter. »Dean that's not funny!« Sam sounded almost a little desperate by this point and Dean almost felt sorry as he waited for his brother to come closer.

The beam of Sam's flashlight was hurriedly searching along the walls and even the ceiling but to Dean's luck it never hit the corner he was hiding in or grazed his frame hunching in the darkness like a monster to attack. Well, this was not that far from the truth tonight. As Sam almost walked past him he jumped out on him with a loud growl, tackling his baby brother to the ground with not much effort whatsoever. Yes, he had feared Sam might hit him with the iron bar out of instinct but to his luck, he didn't. The screech his baby brother produced as he slammed to the ground was shrill and loud and entirely too funny not to laugh about.

»You are such an asshole, Dean!« Sam spat catching his breath underneath him before he hit Dean against the chest with his tiny fist which only prompted Dean to laugh harder at his brother's misery. He was an awesome brother - most of the time - but that did not mean he could not torture his baby brother from time to time. If he wouldn't do it no one would and Sammy would never be ready for the real world.

»Your face!« Dean managed to get out between the laughter as his eyes were already burning with tears now fueled by Sam's fury as he got off Sam and rolled to the side so he came down lying on the back on the cold hard ground. Already his stomach was hurting quite a bit. The expression on Sam's face had been too good to be true, like a deer in the headlights of a truck.

»That's not funny, Dean!« Sam yelled as rolled over and climbed on top of Dean just so that he could hit him again in the chest. »I'm going home! I hope the ghost bites you in the ass!« And with that, really, Sam scrambled back to his feet to stomp away from him. Dean was still catching his breath as he slowly got up too and grabbed his flashlight from the ground to follow his little brother.

»Oh, Sammy come on!« He still laughed as he was following Sam towards the entrance of the barn but that seemed only to put more oil in the fire that was now his little brother. Sam would explode when he would continue like this and yet he couldn't help it. »What was I supposed to do? The situation just called for something like this!« He was sure that every big brother in the entirety of the world would have done the very same thing in a situation as this. How was he supposed to let this opportunity slide? No, no. It was his duty and he had fulfilled it.

»You're still an ass!« Sam moaned but at least he stopped as he reached the gates leading outside of the barn and back into the snow. »And I think you owe me now.« As he looked at Dean over his shoulder he was still pouting like a toddler. That would probably never change.

»Owe you what?« Dean grinned.

»I don't know … I decide what movie we watch next!«

»No way, Sammy!«

»Or I tell Dad!«

»Jeez! Okay, okay! You decide on the next movie. Now get your ass moving, I'm freezing. Let's go home.« He drove a hand through his short dirty blonde hair as he looked in his brother's frowning face that only slowly seemed to relax again as he had apparently won this little fight. The moment Dean was sure that this was the end of this little ghost hunting trip, however, Sam's face suddenly changed as he pointed over Dean's shoulder with almost comical wide eyes.

»Dean! Watch out!«

»Yeah, I know there's probably a ghost standing behind me, right? Nice try, Sammy!« Dean snickered as he turned around just so that Sam could have his little moment of fun. To say that he regretted this decision afterward would be a blatant understatement. It was this moment in which he slowly turned around to face the darkness of the barn, how he thought, only to find a pale face staring back at him that he knew he had fucked up big time.

Everything after that happened too quickly for him to comprehend. He swung with his iron bar at the thing in front of him without thinking twice about it like his father had told him to but instead of hitting the creature with his weapon it flew right out of his hand and left him empty-handed and defenseless.

»Run, Sam!« He heard himself yelling but before he himself could run away he found himself flying through the air like he was an old ragdoll that was thrown into the corner of some dirty old kid's room by a girl that wanted a new toy to play with. He hit the ground outside hard, his back was screaming out in pain and as his head hit the ground not even a second later, the entire world turned a solid black. There was nothing left for him at this moment. Just darkness and not even thoughts managed to creep inside his empty head anymore. And yet, the last thing he was able to feel before there was nothing left to feel anymore was not the snow underneath him or the freezing cold air but a presence right beside him, warm and welcoming, almost as if there was a hand that was holding his own hand, whispering words of comfort into his ears.

- End of Chapter 3 -