Dean's lips were still tingling as he drove down the highway. "It was the heat of the moment, heat of the moment, shone in your eyes…" Dean sang suddenly. All the built up tension that had been inside him for weeks was flowing free now that he'd seen and kissed Castiel, and he felt good. Castiel's bedroom eyes and sensual lips were still leaving a vivid image in his head and on his heart, and he wished the memory didn't have to fade. But for now, he was riding on a good feeling and couldn't help but sing about it.

"Dean, seriously?" Sam said.

"What?"Dean asked.

"I hate that song. Why don't you turn on your music anyway? I'll help you get it started." Sam picked up and started rummaging through Dean's box of old cassette tapes.

"Why do you hate that song?" Dean asked.

"Never mind." Sam took one of the cassettes out of the box and plugged it into the player. AC/DC started up, singing about "Hell's Bells."

Dean considered saying he wasn't in the mood for Hell's Bells, but decided not to fight it. He was going to have to sneak in some Asia sometime when Sam was off doing something else.

They were heading back to Hamburg, bundled up in the extra long johns and winter wear they'd bought at the store. Dean wondered if their purchase was going to end up useless. He had a feeling that the chill in the air had nothing to do with cold fronts or other weather terms he'd heard the weather man use when he watched the forecast in the morning. Still, mentally, the extra layers of clothes provided a mental armor that made the task before them a little more bearable. They could at least hope they would stay warm.

Dean tapped his knuckles on the steering wheel and hummed "Heat of the Moment" to himself, unable to ignore the energy inside him. He was happy. Life was good, he'd seen his angel, and maybe they'd solve this case and make life better for several people all at once.

Twenty minutes down the road, Dean wasn't happy at all. Life was miserable. Castiel was gone way, way more than he was here. People were dying daily and no matter what Dean did, he couldn't save everyone, and he felt like he might as well stop trying. And the people on this case, oh, their life was a living hell. Dean felt all of their pain and the need to curl up in a ball to hopefully escape it. He was tempted to turn the car around and get far, far away from the whole situation. Then maybe he would feel better.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean said irritably.

"Your mood just took a nose dive. I'm not feeling so great myself. I keep thinking of when you went to hell. And when Jessica died. Pretty rotten times. I wonder if this place is affecting us?"

Dean thought about it. "I think you're right. I went to feeling great to feeling like crap in twenty minutes. I feel like everything is hopeless now."

"I can hear it in your voice," Sam said compassionately. "Do you need a hug?"

"I'm driving, you idiot," Dean said abruptly.

"I was kidding! Trying to make you laugh."

Dean glared over at Sam. "I'm not laughing."

"No shit, Sherlock. Look, Dean. We really need to try and keep this place from affecting us. But I'm not sure how, I feel like it's sinking into my bones."

At the same time Sam said that, Dean noticed that he was hearing the faint melody of Castiel's music in his head suddenly, while random bad times flashed through his mind. He strained inwardly to listen closely, and the tempo of the music increased. Eagerly, he waited to see how it turned out, while being on guard somewhat, because Castiel never gave him the music other than at night.

The music changed so subtlety that it took Dean several minutes to realize that this couldn't be Castiel's music at all. Rapid drumbeats felt malicious, low piano keys sounded dismal. The sad and hateful music seemed to create the grief Dean was feeling for everything wrong in the world. It was very disturbing, that something Dean considered private and intimate between him and Castiel was being violated and turned into this monstrosity. It was the worst music he'd ever heard. Just like a great song could make Dean feel uplifted, this song ground grief into him like a stake to the heart.

Dean begged Castiel to make it stop, and kept his mouth shut, didn't tell Sam about it, because he didn't want to have to tell Sam about Castiel's music.

Dean waited. The music was so horrid that Dean turned his head slightly towards the door's window so Sam wouldn't see the grimace on his face. But eventually a softer, more compelling song grafted its way into the nightmarish song from hell. For awhile, they seemed to fight, volumes of each song changing, one gaining more strength than the other, an enticing song and a rotten one. Like two radios were turned on at once to two different stations, but it wasn't just an overlap of noise. These songs actually fit together, even though they were on opposite sides of the scale. It was the most bizarre thing Dean had ever heard in his life.

Dean imagined that Castiel was constantly linking the notes of his song to the nasty song. Like a chain link fence – each link had to connect to the next one. Castiel probably had to grab a hold of the song and literally make it something new by connecting to each and every note, changing it as the connection took.

Where were these crazy thoughts coming from? Dean didn't know if that was even possible with music. What he knew about music was which bands were kick-ass, and who played what instrument. He didn't know anything about the construction of a song, hell, he'd barely had a chance to pound out some noise on a piano as a kid.

Eventually Castiel's music won the battle in his head, and Dean was practically smiling.

"What just happened? You look like you just fought with some inner demons, and won."

Dean glanced at Sam. "Pretty much."

"Well, are you going to tell me about it?"

"No." Dean was surprised Sam hadn't interrupted his inner fight with his thoughts, but wasn't going to ask him why. "How are you doing?" he asked instead.

"Pretty lousy, actually. Dean, we've dealt with all kinds of heinous creatures, but nothing like this, it's like some kind of soul vampire or something. Or, happiness vampire, because it sucks the happiness right out of you."

"Yeah," Dean said, nodding. But that's all he wanted to say. They finished their drive in silence, both in deep thought.

The woods of Hamburg felt like a haunted house set, once again. Except there was no house. They both looked around at the ground, looking for a sign of something unusual. Frustrated after finding nothing, Dean started shouting. "Whatever you are, come out and face us!"

"Dean, I'm not sure that's wise," Sam whispered loudly.

"I don't care. Someone needs to get this son of a bitch out in the open so we can fight it!"

"Dean, this thing is so much more powerful than us! We need the upper hand!"

"So what do you suggest we do about it, Sam? I'm all ears," Dean shouted.

"Dean, you're letting the mood of the place get to you."

"No shit, Sherlock!"

"Fight it! Think of the most peaceful thing you can. Anything!"

Dean knew he had a very good point. He closed his eyes, blocking out all of the cold, wet, leafless branches and gray sky, and thought about Castiel.

It started with a general memory of Cas – their friendship that had turned into more. Which lead to his feelings of longing, but he didn't want to stay there long, as it was a more upsetting emotion. So he just settled on the good feeling he had about everything he and Castiel had shared, and felt a pleasant peace and happiness descend on him. Dean could have sworn Castiel's wings were suddenly wrapping around him and protecting him, but he figured it was just his imagination. Either way, it felt great.

Dean was thinking of how Castiel's eyes could make him turn into a puddle of mush, when a scratchy sounding voice yelled out, "Your attempts are pointless, human. Give it up and leave here."

Dean's eyes snapped open and reflexively he pulled out his gun with salt plugs in it. Sam had done the same.

Floating between them was a ghost–like creature that looked exactly like Elmer had described. Its bony face had no flesh on it, but its fingers had flaps hanging like a loose bandage. It wore a green and purple robe, with strange symbols in yellow embroidery on the lining of the hood. There was a sickly, faint green light coming through the eye sockets, and some of the bones had a bluish tinge.

"What are you?" Sam demanded. "Tell us or we'll shoot you right now.

The creature laughed, which was more of a sandpaper-on-wood sound than uplifting laughter.

"Just try it. Human. You cannot harm me with table seasonings."

Dean wondered if he should call his bluff, but if it was an empty one, and he disappeared, he wouldn't be able to get answers out of him.

"Who are you?" Dean asked instead.

"I have no reason to answer you. Leave now, before I destroy you."

It started reaching a slimy arm towards Dean, and Dean remembered what Elmer had sad about a sick feeling being branded into his skull. Dean jumped back, and shot a pellet in self-defense.

The salt flew right through the creature and it laughed again. Then, "I tire of your games. I wish to make you feel sadness and pain. Come closer."

"Why do you wish us to feel sadness and pain?" Sam demanded. "And why the hell should we come closer? Are you rooted to one spot?"

"Because I can, and a symphony of pain is my sustenance. And I demand you move closer because you are you are a measly human and are no more than the food I eat."

Dean raised an eyebrow, and his voice. "Look, motherfucker. You've got this back-asswards. You are the one who is a measly, dead, piece of shit, and we are the ones that are going to kill you and wipe you off the face of this earth!"

The creature laughed again. "Just try it. You do not have the power to destroy me. I am stronger than you can imagine."

"So, what happens if we touch your precious foundation over here?" Sam asked, gesturing to the wet, gray slab nearby.

"I dare you to walk on it. You will be, without a doubt, mine if you do so. I would welcome it."

"What's the difference," Sam asked, "Between us stepping closer to you and being your meal, and us walking on that foundation over there, and us becoming yours, as you put it?"

"I do not want to waste time with your questions any further!" The creature shouted, and Dean felt a sharp stab of pain in his head, making him reflexively duck, and saw Sam was doing the exact same thing. The pain increased, and Dean started to feel like every happy feeling he'd ever had was fading into nothing, leaving only all the ugly and unpleasant feelings he'd felt in his life. It was so similar to his despair and utter hopelessness in hell, that he tried with every ounce of will to resist it, but it wasn't working. He could feel himself slipping into sheer agony.

"Dean, RUN!" Dean heard Sam shout, and Sam was already taking off, while looking backwards to make sure Dean was coming. Dean realized this was his only option at the moment, so he sprinted, and didn't look back until they were much closer to their car.

The ghostly creature was gone, and Dean's headache and sick feeling of suffering was fading. Enough to feel some relief, but not enough for Dean's mood to improve. He felt like shit now, and couldn't wait to get out of there.