Hey all! Thanks for the reviews again! I think this chapter has a little bit of drama in it... and first I wasn't at all pleased with the outcome... but with a little dramatic music at the end, I think it's really okay... tell me how you think about it...

Lee

The first thing Sam was aware of was that he was bound and gagged. For a moment he thought about what had happened, but his mind came up blank. He dared to open his eyes and was greeted by his brother lying a few feet away.

Dean's eyes were closed. Dried blood on the side of his face told Sam that Dean was hurt and that was enough to get him to move.
With the first motion he cried out into his gag. His whole chest seemed to be on fire. He looked down in panic and saw several small patches of blood on his torn shirt. Choking on the sob that escaped his throat he tried to move toward his brother, screaming Dean's name through the gag in an attempt to rouse him, but before he was able to drag himself a couple of feet, a booted foot stopped him and flipped him on his back. He whimpered softly through his gag, trying to swallow the pain that cruised through his body. Sam looked into Angela's distorted face. Though it seemed as if her face wasn't hers anymore. He could see a second face flowing over Angela's smooth features. While Angela's mouth seemed to be neutral, the ghostly feature of the woman that possessed Angela grinned wickedly.

"I told you you'll never kill Isaiah again. I'll end it tonight. You'll die and Isaiah and I will be united again. It was you who killed my husband, you bastard will pay!" she spat.

Sam shook his head in return. They had been wrong. It hadn't been the spirit of Cutter Simpson that had mutilated these men. It had been the ghost of one of his victims. A hard blow stunned him, as the ghost of Esmeralda started her revenge on the person she thought was Cutter Simpson. And another, and another, and another… he felt his blood rush through his body carrying nothing but hot pain with it. It all ended as a second blast disturbed the otherwise quiet night, letting Angela flew back and the ghost of the gypsy-girl scream in rage as it dissipated.

SPNSPN

They more stumbled than ran, but right now it was the best thing they could do. Dean was carrying Angela in a fireman's-carry, while trying to drag Sam along. He was on the verge of collapsing himself right now, but they had to get out of this field. These two spirits were on a war-path tonight. Again he almost buckled as his brother beside him stumbled and he had to grab him tighter to keep him upright. Sam was a mess right now. He was disoriented, bloody, shaking and Dean had to yell twice at him before he got a reaction. Still, he was on his feet, trying the best he could offer right now to help.

After he had shot at Angela, Dean had crawled over to him. He knew they couldn't stay long, that they needed to get out of here. As he reached Sam, his little brother had already tried to sit up, but his bound hands had hindered him. Dean's arms shook under the strain, as he helped Sam sit and steadied him while searching for his pocket-knife to undo his kid brother's bound and raw wrists. Sam slumped backwards after Dean had finished cutting through the ropes and got rid of the gag for him, dragging in ragged and unsteady breaths. He almost didn't manage the weight Sam put on him, but he locked his elbows letting his sibling lean into him for a moment of comfort.

Dean was pulled from his reverie, as suddenly the wind freshened up, blowing into their faces, as if it tried to prevent them from leaving. He pushed himself once again, grabbing Sam's arm tighter. "Just a couple… of steps… nearly there!" he panted through clenched teeth. He fell backwards as an invisible force ripped Angela from his grasp and cried out, as he went down, taking Sam with him.
In front of him, he could make out the shadow of the Impala; they were only a few feet from their goal. He wouldn't give up. With an angry grunt, he grabbed Sam by his arms, dragging him to his feet, not wasting time to look back at Angela. Another gust of wind announced the second spirit. Dean pushed harder. He could feel now a pull, something trying to pry Sam away from him, but his grip on his little brother was vice-like. The pull grew stronger and stronger, almost to much to bear. Then Sam suddenly went totally unresponsive, crumbling into Dean. Dean staggered, as he now had to keep Sam's whole weight and at the same time tried to stop the ghost to pull him back into the field.

Something hit his head hard, letting him forget for the fraction of a second to hold onto his sibling… and then Sam was gone. The wind now even won on force, dancing around him with harsh and taunting laughter. Dean stood there, swaying for a last moment, then with two stumbled steps he was out of the field.
Drained of all energy, Dean fell, lying face down on the grass gasping in and out, trying to keep the panic at bay. A feral, unearthly scream reverberated the night. Dean turned around, scrambling backwards looking at Sam and Angela both standing at the border of the field.

"You can't leave!" The spirit of Cutter Simpson screamed furious. "I'll not be cursed again tonight!"

"You have to stay with me, my love! I have to safe you. You'll not die tonight. This is the only way to break the curse!" Angela's words were spoken softly. "I forgive you for hurting me. Just come back to me…"

Dean shuddered. He looked at his brother, the feeling of failure almost drowning him.

Then Angela turned to Sam. "You'll die tonight. You'll never kill him or me again. I'll kill you before!"

The attention of the ghost of Cutter Simpson was drawn to Angela. "I killed you once bitch! I'm surely will kill you another time. And this time, there will be no time for you to curse me!" Sam spat. His face contorted to a sneer.

Dean saw everything happen in slow motion. His brother produced, with an incredible fast movement, a knife. Angela stood frozen to her spot, as Sam drew his hand back for one fatal blow.

Before Dean knew it he was on his feet, screaming at the top of his voice: "Angela, RUN!" Sam's head jerked to his direction, but it was too late. Dean was near enough to block the deathly strike, taking on Sam's movement, he threw his brother over his bending hip. The knife flew into the darkness of the cornfield. Panting Dean stared into the dazed eyes of his brother and the scowling face of the ghost.

"Isaiah…" Angela whispered. With one swift movement Dean had turned around. "No! I'm not! You don't have to safe me. This time I have to safe you." He pointed on his still dazed brother on the ground. "He's stronger. You'll not be able to kill him. So, you run and you hide! I'll take care of the rest. DO-YOU-GOT-ME!" He pronounced every single word. Angela slowly nodded, backing away from him. "RUN!" he yelled at her, and finally she turned and took off, back into the field.

He felt movement behind him, but already Sam was on him. With a strangled cry, Dean's feet were tugged from under him, and the ghost of Cutter Simpson straddled him, pinning his arms to his side. "I like it, when they fight!" he stunned Dean with a blow. "And you like to hurt your little brother, right? I tell you, his shoulder hurts like hell!"

Dean bucked him off his hips with one swift movement, both rolling in the dirt.
"Son of a bitch!" he panted. This time pinning his brother under him, but Sam, or better the ghost only laughed menacing.

"I'll end this tonight. No one will die. Not Sam, not Angela, not me. The only thing that will die is you. And I'll watch your bones burn and smoulder!" Dean saw the first time something like fear cross over the spirits features. Then the rage and hate was back.

"You're Isaiah. You're pathetic. You died first!" The invisible force of the spirit knocked him off of his brother. Dean used the power of the throw, to roll and get back on his feet.
He stumbled the couple of steps back and out of the field. Again, the ghost in Sam screamed in rage.

Dean's face was set. Determination replacing the pain, fear and exhaustion.
"I'll break your curse, I promise!" Dean growled. "The only way, it will be broken tonight… the Winchester-way. Sicko!
Then in a desperate and more gentle voice he said: "Sam, I'll come back for you, okay? Just hold on!"

He hated what he had to do, but it was the only way. He couldn't get Sam or Angela out of this field. The spirits of Cutter Simpson and the gypsy-girl needed human counterparts. Sam had told him that it seemed that the circle started again every 51-years-anniversary of Cutter Simpson's death. Every 51 years he relieved the crime he had committed, killing Esmeralda and her husband Isaiah. That was the night Esmeralda had cursed him. And now he thought the jinx only could be broken, when he killed both of them before she spoke the spell. Esmeralda on the other hand thought the curse would be broken only if she saved her husband from death by killing Cutter Simpson.
Either way they needed blood and tonight was the night. Frank and all the others had been alone; plain but simple - wrong place, wrong time.

He grabbed at the keys of the Impala, knowing that he had to hurry. "You'll be okay, Sammy. I'll end this."

And he did what he never thought he could do. Leave his brother behind, to burn the bones of Cutter Simpson. It would end then, because he was almost certain that Esmeralda, who had spoken the curse was bound to Cutter Simpson. The spell keeping him restless, also had taken its toll on the gypsy-girl.

"Hold on Sammy, just hold on!" was the endless mantra that he repeated over and over, while he rushed to the small cemetery.

... TBC... well? what do you think?