Please don't hate me, I'm a Dean girl, the section at the end of this chapter
is for story purposes only and not a reflection of the author's views. Ok? :o

C4

-o-o-o-o-

Irish stew with bread rolls was the supper of choice that night, and whilst the picture on the tin was clearly of a different, and way more superior, brand of Irish stew than the one inside the tin, it was hot and filling.

"So, you figured how to get from here to where Bobby thinks the storms are originating from?"

"Roughly north west from here, just over three miles. There's no unusual land features showing in that area, looks pretty much like more of the same terrain we crossed to get here."

"Maybe there's been some kinda, whassit, natural land movement?"

Sam nodded.

"That's a possiblity. And if there was a disturbance, this thing that we're looking for could've ended up being uncovered..."

"...And then kick started this freakin' dismal weather."

"It's a sound hypothesis."

"Assuming it is some kinda artefact or cursed whatever that's responsible for the nuclear style winds. What is it that's got Bobby so sure that's what we're looking for?"

Sam stood up from the table and picked up Dean's empty bowl. Putting it with his own, he dumped them both in the sink before grabbing two bottles of beer from one of the two six packs which Dean had produced from his rucksack.

"You've got to have left somethin' important behind to fit these into your rucksack."

Dean said nothing, simply giving Sam a small smile. Sam frowned back at his brother, feeling like there was definitely something he was not being told. Deciding to ignore it for now, he answered Dean's question.

"Bobby's working on the fact that storms really aren't that well known for parking themselves in one spot and deciding to settle down there. We know this one's hung around for at least three weeks or so and it's epicentre stays hovering over one particular location like it's got nowhere else better to be. I think Bobby's idea that it's maybe bound to something is a good one and, like he said, it's not likely to be a living thing that's wandering around dragging a storm after it. Someone in the community would've noticed something like that; whereas this storm just appeared kinda...Well...Out of the blue?"

Grimacing, Dean groaned loudly at his brother's awful pun.

"Anyhoo...Bobby's fairly sure we're looking for a something, rather than a someone."

"Unless the storm's bound to a dead someone? You know. Some old pile of bones got disturbed and that's gone and triggered some strange shitty weather curse?"

"Yes Dean. It might indeed be the work of some strange, skeletal, shitty weather curse."

Dean pouted. Sticking his bottom lip out and virtually turning into a six year old before his younger brother's amused gaze.

"Well ... It could be ... Couldn't it?"

Sam laughed at Dean's indignant face before inclining his head toward the dirty pan and dishes.

"Ok. I admit it, it could be. Know what else? Wash up duty's all yours."

"Oh no baby brother, that wasn't the deal!"

-o-

Outside and near invisible against the dark of the night sky, something passed over the isolated shack in silence, it's olfactory senses recognising that there was something new here. Curious, it fixed onto the smell of smoke drifting up the chimney from the fire. As the smoke exited the chimney in wisps, it was almost instantly captured and dragged away, in the grasp of the gusting winds. The thing squinted down at the shack with it's half blind eyes. As well as the fire smoke, it had picked up on some other really interesting scents, and it became very much morecurious. Swooping down, it landed, perching itself on the roof of the shack.

-o-

After saluting his brother with his bottle of beer, Sam drifted across to an armchair in front of the fire. He had just sat down when there was a thump, the sound seeming to come from outside, up on the roof.

"You hear that?"

Dean was already heading for the door, torch in hand.

"Yup."

-o-

With perfect timing, Dean opening the door of the shack directly coincided with an enormous clap of thunder that then rolled and boomed, echoing around the sides of the deep, circular hollow where the ranger's outpost nestled. His senses already on high alert, the unexpected sonic boom of thunder startled Dean and caused him to hesitate on the threshold of the door, long enough for Sam, in his rush to go after his brother, to collide with Dean, accidentally shoving him ungraciously out of the doorway. Fortunately, Sam's sudden close proximity also meant he could reach out and grab hold of Dean when Dean stumbled and so, save the older Hunter from the indignity of face planting in the mud. Ignoring his sibling and the wind, Dean moved out from the open door and turned, shining the light of his torch up at the shack's roof and, once he was satisfied, directly in to Sam's face.

"What the Hell Sammy?"

Sam held a hand up to his face to block the bright beam of light that was currently hitting him in the eyes.

"Wasn't my fault! How was I supposed to know a bit of thunder was goin' to make you freeze? I stopped you from falling in the mud, didn't I?"

Dean stalked past and back to the shack.

"I didn't freeze, I paused. And you're the reason I nearly hit the deck anyway!Klutz!"

-o-

Re-entering the warmth of the shack, both brothers ground to a halt. Dean stared down at his soaking wet, mud covered socks, and from there to where his boots were sat drying out in front of the fire.

"Great! That's just great!"

Sam held his breath against his impending laughter and began to peel his own sludge laden socks away from his feet. Sensibly staying silent whilst Dean, still muttering, stomped across to his rucksack and began rummaging for a replacement pair at the same time as suffering another round of sneezing, adding in a couple of coughs for good measure. The ring tone from his cell brought both brothers back to attention. Glancing at the caller I.D., Dean hit answer.

"Hey Bobby. You get my message earlier?"

-o-

Bobby Singer knew both his boys well enough to detect the note of irritation in Dean's voice.

"Yeah, 'bout half of it. You two still ok?"

Dean shot his brother a glare.

"Yeah. Yeah, we're both good. FYI, when we're done up here? We're heading straight back to yours, and the first hot shower's mine!

"Little basic up there eh?"

"Bobby...There's a bucket full of water next to the toilet. That's how you flush it! I'm gonna have to implement big brother rights so I get to go first."

"Son, I really didn't need to hear that. Seen anything out the ordinary yet?"

"Nah...Well, maybe...Tell you the truth? I'm not certain."

"Go on."

"Ok, so we both just heard a noise, sounded like somethin' was on the roof. We've looked, but there was nothin' to see. And earlier? I'd gone outside and, I kinda thought I saw something move. When I checked? Nothing that time either. But then there was this, I dunno, screeching, squealing, squawking kinda noise? Didn't sound like anythin' I've ever heard before. Sammy heard it as well. That's it so far. Not much, is it?"

"That depends. Are you tryin' to say there is maybe somethin' alive that's linked...to ... the ... Balls! Dean? Listen, I'll ring you back later. I gotta check somethin' out, ok?"

"You're onto something old man, aren't you?"

"Maybe. I'll let you know. But call me that again kid an' you're riskin' all shower rights bein' withdrawn!"

"Aw Bobby, you wouldn't do that to me?"

"Try me...Look son, you an' Sam watch your backs out there, ok?"

"Always do Bobby. Ring as soon as."

Sam had been watching Dean and listening to his brother's half of the conversation.

"Bobby say what he's thinking?"

Dean shrugged.

"Nah, just that he had to check on something an' that I'm his favourite."

"Jerk."

"S'not my fault, I'm just that adorable!"

-o-

At some point as the evening moved on, the sounds of the rain and the ever present wind became almost reassuring, a familiar background noise that, combined with the comforting warmth of the fire and the embrace of his armchair, led to Sam drifting unavoidably into sleep sometime during a deep conversation considering whether Batman would come out on top if pitted against Iron Man. Dean was theorising that, in their everyday human guises, if the two men had met then they would probably become friends, given that they shared at lot in common, like money. His brother's lack of response alerted Dean to the fact that Sam was no longer with him. For a while Dean simply sat quietly, watching his brother, considering the complex, and at times all too serious, man that he had become. It seemed that with the passing of time, he heard Sam laugh less and less often. Sure, he smiled, but frequently his smile looked sad. It pained Dean more than he cared to acknowledge that the joy had gradually faded out of his brother ever since he had left Stanford at Dean's instigation. The playful, inquisitive two year old that a six year old Dean had adored was long gone. Dean wondered if there had ever been a moment where he had seriously taken the time to think about what the life of being a Hunter would mean for Sam? Dean had to conclude that, whilst he may regularly have expressed the wish that Sam could have a real life; he honestly couldn't claim to have ever considered the issue from that other perspective. His thoughts continued to follow this new trail and he wondered for the first time; if he had ever given more thought to what it really meant to be a Hunter, would he still have gone to Sam that night? Would he have still wanted his brother to be with him? If he was such a brilliant big brother, wouldn't he have wanted Sam doing anything but Hunting? Wouldn't he, in fact, have pushed for Sam to leave even sooner than he had? And, exactly what kind of older brother was he really? To want Sam by his side so badly, that he was happy to let his brother risk major injury, or very possibly an early death, virtually every single day? Dean frowned, reflecting on all those times that he had failed to do his job, failed to protect Sam; but it wasn't just about that. It was every missed night's sleep, every stinking bug infested dive of a motel room, every opportunity missed, every chance snatched away, every grease ridden artery clogging meal, every danger, every hurt, every moment spent in some hospital somewhere, every single life threatening situation, that Sammy had ever faced or would face; that was all down to him too. Every day, hour, second of Sam's life as a Hunter was on him. Him and his complete and total selfishness. He was the one who had dragged Sam back into hunting and, because of him being a self centred dick, as soon as tomorrow, Sam might die. And it would all be his, Dean's, fault.

-o-

The thought made Dean feel dizzy, but it also occurred to him that he was finally seeing things clearly. It was because of him. He was the reason, the only reason, that Sammy never really laughed any more. Their dad had drummed it into him, his only job was to protect Sammy, and all this time he'd never figured it...There was only one thing he'd ever needed to do to protect his Sammy, and that was to stop Sam from becoming a Hunter. The answer had been that simple all along, and the great almighty Dean Winchester had missed it!

"Shit!"

His head was pounding and the muscles in his neck and legs had, at some point whilst he'd been sat, begun to ache. Dean glanced at the fire, wondering if it was down to the heat it was throwing out? Now he thought about it, he realised the fire had become uncomfortably hot. Hot enough to make him sweat. Dean covered his mouth with a hand, stifling the urge to cough. He couldn't afford to wake his sleeping sibling right now. He had a job to do, and it didn't involve Sammy. Nope. Not any more...Not ever 'cos, know what baby brother? I just retired you. Might even buy you a watch 'cos you're done Huntin' an' your my brother so you get to go find a normal life, like you always should'a done.

-o-o-o-o-