After just over six hours of driving, Dean pulled his beloved impala up on the gravelly parking lot outside the Green Lake Cemetery. He looked over at his sleeping brother and a smile crept across his face. Sam looked so peaceful, there was no pain to be seen in his features the way there was when he was awake, always worrying about this going dark side thing. Dean let his head fall against his seat as he watched Sam. Even though he might doubt Sam's goodness occasionally, he refused to let himself believe that such an amazing, whole hearted person could go dark side, no matter how broken he was. Tears threatened to pry their way out of Dean's eyes, but he kept them at bay. Pull yourself together. Dean was exhausted after the lengthy trip, but there was work to be done an in this line of work, he knew his own health was not a priority. He considered doing it on his own, not wanting to disturb Sam but he knew Sam would only sulk about it once he found out. He longed to reach out and brush his brothers out grown hair from his face and wake him with a kiss, but he knew he couldn't and settled for the normal. He was just a big ball of emotions today.

'Get up sunshine!'

Dean stared, perhaps with a little too much intensity, as Sam slowly wakened from his obviously deep sleep. Sam brushed his hair from his face with one hand, and Dean unwillingly squirmed, uncomfortable with the thoughts running through his head. God, he looks sexy. For some reason he felt like he might finally crack. He didn't know why, but right now all he wanted was Sam, and if he couldn't have him, what was the point in anything? He remembered last night, when Sam asked him to share a bed. He felt so much heartache at that point, wanting to give in so badly but he couldn't. He needed to protect Sam from himself and his twisted thoughts.

'Uh, Dean? Are you okay? What's going on?' Sam's voice sounded so innocent to Dean.

Shit. Dean quickly opened the door and jumped out. He really needed to snap out of this otherwise he might end up spilling his secret to Sam, then he wouldn't have him in any way possible because Sam would take off.

'Everything's peachy, oh except from the fact we have a couple of murderous spirits on our hands'

Sam followed Dean's lead and got out of the car and walked to the trunk where Dean was searching for supplies.

'Dean, that's a day by day occurrence for us. What's got you so on edge?'

'I'm just a little tired, I mean I've been driving for what feels like days with you snoring your ass off.' He took a pause to collect himself, he knew he was being a bit of a whiney bitch. 'Are you ok?'

'Yeah Dean... I'm fine'

Dean turned away, he couldn't stand the concern in Sam's eyes as he cocked his head to the side. Dean continued to rummage through the trunk of his baby. Where's the fucking salt?!. A shiver was sent down his spine as he felt Sam's large hand come to rest on his upper arm.

'Dean...'

'Leave it!'

Dean didn't even know what he could say to his brother. Sam was the only person in the world he would consider talking to about any problems and this was the one and only problem he couldn't talk about, especially with Sam. He just turned to look at Sam, giving him a warning look to get him off his case, shoved some supplies to his chest for him to hold, closed the trunk and walked towards the grave yard entrance.

The tension between them was almost unbearable, maddening. Dean clenched his fists; he wanted to smash one of the headstones to bits knowing this strain on their relationship was all down to him. He was the one who basically attacked Sam when they were drunk, and the one who pushed Sam away when they were sober. However, even though it was hard to convince himself of this; he knew it was for the best to not let himself get too close to Sam. He just needed to apply that same distance with alcohol too.

Luckily, the job consumed his mind and pulled him further away from the mental breakdown that was itching to take over. After scouring the grave stones for the names scrawled on a scrap of paper Bobby had handed to him, they eventually found the place where the bodies lay. They weren't buried at all, instead both bodies, who were apparently husband and wife, were contained in some sort of above ground crypt. Sam and Dean simultaneously dropped their unneeded shovels in the dirt as Dean forcefully kicked the doors in. He felt a bit of the built up rage leave and he let out a long held breath, through flared nostrils. He was extremely thankful there wouldn't be any digging to do, his arms were too weak to take that.

They set the first body alight, no questions asked, then moved to salt and burn the wife. They just about covered the lifeless, foul smelling form in salt and fuel before a spooky figure of a woman accumulated in the corner. Her skin was unearthly pale and she wore a long, flowing, dusty grey dress that gently shifted on the floor with the wind that came through the crypt doors. Her features were so soft and almost child-like. She was stunning, in a creepy sort of way. Her eyes, a deep forest green, stood out from everything else. They shone like all eyes do when they are filled with tears. With a loud slam, the heavy, rotting doors closed them in and they looked at each other in terror. All Dean wanted to do was take that fear away, but he didn't know how. He was just as shocked; things don't usually interrupt during a simple salt and burn.

'Sam, hurry up and light the damn thing on fire!'

Sam fumbled with the matches desperately as the sinister woman moved closer, tears falling from her glassy eyes and she began to speak.

'What have you done to my husband?' she whispered eerily, sort of whining, at first before she repeated herself, this time her words were a bloodcurdling shout.

Sam let go of the newly lit match and the coffin burst out in flames, clawing their way upwards as the ghostly woman screamed and lunged at Sam. Dean's heart must have jumped into his throat because all of a sudden he felt suffocated and he could hear the blood pumping through his veins as he watched the horrifying scene in front f his eyes. The daunt spirit's yellowing fingernails grew a few inches longer and her previously beautiful facial features turned gruesome. Dean's defend Sammy at all costs mode came into action and he gripped Sam and pushed him against the stone wall, covering his brother with his own body, earning himself a sharp scratch on his arm from the deadly wife before she too, went up in flames.

Dean's breathing came out in short gasps. He didn't care about the pain shooting through his arm, he just needed to know Sam was okay. He lifted his face to look at Sam's. Bad idea. Their lips were mere centimetres from each other, their noses brushed ever so lightly at the tips and Dean could feel Sam's warm, inviting breaths on his face. He longed to lean in. He willed himself to move, to escape from this before he did something wrong, but he found himself getting lost in Sam's doughy eyes. The love he felt trapped him, he was so close to Sam, yet so far from what he really wanted and that hurt so much. He lifted his hand up and brushed Sam's hair from his face before tracing his fingers down the soft skin of Sam's cheek. Stop now.

'Dean?...'

Shit no. Dean forced himself to get away. He slammed Sam against the wall, perhaps a lot more harshly than he intended to because he heard Sam let out a sharp breath. But he had to push himself backwards, and then he bolted from the crypt. The crisp breeze on Dean's skin was welcomed like a warm meal to a homeless person. He sucked in, enjoying the freshness. He was sure Sam would figure everything out. Figure out how Dean was having these sick, twisted thoughts. Hell, Sam was smart enough. That thought terrified Dean more than any supernatural being ever could because that would mean Sam leaving. He felt a bit of bile rise up but he swallowed it back down. Dean's mind was flooded with images of Sam thrashing and moaning in his sleep this morning. That was certainly something he didn't want to think about because that meant he had to remember that he'd touched himself, actually touched himself, while watching his brother. That was a whole new level of wrongness. It couldn't get more disturbing than that. A cold sweat overcame him, Dean had never felt so ashamed and this time, he did clutch his stomach, bend over and vomit.

The only good thing that he could think of was that Sam hadn't seen any of that because that would have brought up more unanswerable questions that he just couldn't deal with right now. When Sam did come out of the crypt, Dean just simply picked up the supplies and headed for the car, knowing Sam would follow.