In a burst of speed, Dean pulled up the shotgun that he had retrieved from the ground when he had been distracting the ghost. Aiming his favorite sawed off weapon at the howling ghost child, he quickly pulled the trigger and sent the rock salt filled shells flying into Benjamin's corporeal body, dispersing him immediately.

It might not kill him – again – but hey. It'll damn sure slow him down long enough for Dean to strike a match and light him up.

Of course, when did anything ever go to plan in Dean's world?

As Dean placed the shotgun under his arm and fumbled to pull the matches out of his pocket, the ghost returned madder than ever, and shoved him to the ground. His head whacked the cold soil as he landed on the hard packed floor and the matches were knocked out of his reach, a mere few centimeters from his fingertips. Friggin' typical, stupid ghost, Dean grumbled to himself.

With Benjamin's arctic gaze upon him once more as he stood above Dean, he again raised his hand as if to shoot Dean in the chest. The kid had an almost triumphant look upon his face as he went to pull the 'trigger' of his invisible gun.

But there was no way in hell Dean was dying today. It would be too cruel to the female population of the world if Dean Winchester wasn't around to show them what a good time was really like.

Fast as a bullet, Dean pulled his lighter out of his jacket pocket and lit it first try. Smirking, he said to the ghost,

"Hasta la vista, douchebag." As he threw the flaming lighter into the grave.

A whoosh of flames instantly arose, washing Dean's face in the dancing fire light. The ghost also began to burn as his bones did, his attack on Dean halted. The Benjamin kids eyes were shut tight as he flung his head back, screaming. His hands were clenched tight to his sides as he fell to his knees without a sound.

Then, from one instant to the next, he just wasn't there anymore. Gone in a shimmer of smoke that disappeared just as quickly as he had, not even seconds ago.

As Dean stood up and brushed himself off, he looked silently into the grave at the flames that were slowing claiming the bones of the deceased boy. As he watched them burn he contemplated whether or not the ghost actually felt pain as he went up in flames. The screams he had emitted indicated that he did, but how could a ghost feel pain without a true body to feel it with?

It was something he had wondered at from time to time, and had never found an answer that truly satisfied him. In the end he always settled on the fact that it didn't matter whether or not they did. A vengeful spirit killed people and therefore had to be stopped. If burning them was the way to do it, then so be it. And it was Dean's job as a hunter to stop the evil, and burn the ghost if that was what duty called for.

It used to be Sammy's job too. The family business, Dean used to joke with him. Of course Sam had always just given him one of his bitch faces, and told him that purposefully going looking for trouble was no kind of business, it was just plain crazy. To which Dean always replied, well what's life without some crazy in it. Which of course just earned Dean another classic, Sammy bitch face and then a sigh, but it usually kept him quiet.

He sure missed working with Sam. Despite always yearning for a different life, he had always made a damned good hunter, one that Dean had been proud of. But he guessed some things just weren't meant to be.

Sam would have his college life and become some fancy lawyer. Settle down with a wife, kids and a white picket fence. But Dean couldn't do that. He thirsted for the blood of the freak that had killed his mom.

Dean had been old enough to know and remember his mother. To remember her beautiful face, her voice as she would sing to him and Sammy at night to help them sleep, and how she would tell him that angels were watching over him every night before bed. It made his heart ache when he thought of how she had been taken from him, how Sammy had never gotten to truly know what she had been like.

Perhaps if he had, then he wouldn't have been so eager to go off to college. Maybe he would have been more driven to find the evil son of a bitch that had stolen their mother's life.

Dean thought about what he had said to the ghost in his anger about Sam. It was true that Dean had tried to be there for Sam as much as he possibly could. It had been driven into him since that night that he had to protect Sammy. That Sam was his to protect, and that he had to it to the best of his ability.

Dean thought about how maybe he had let Sammy cut off contact with him. In his silent anger, Dean hadn't truly wanted to speak to Sam, probably as much as Sam hadn't wanted to speak to him.

Perhaps they had betrayed each other. Sam had left them, ditched his only family for college. But in the same breath, Dean had always known that Sam wanted a normal life, and Dean had chosen not to support his brother in the foolish hopes that his little brother would stay.

It did no good to either of them to dwell on it now though, and think about how differently things could have gone. How if people had just reined in tempers, and hadn't spoken meaningless words in anger then maybe they would still be a family, albeit one that was different from most. Where being a lawyer was the abnormal thing to do, and hunting monsters was more accepted.

The damage was done however and Dean could only hope that one day they could come back together as a true family, even if it meant having a college educated, fancy lawyer for a brother.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A few hours later Dean's phone rang. It was his father. Dean contemplated ignoring it, but like a good son and soldier he answered anyway.

"Hey dad, what's up?" Dean said into the phones speaker.

"Hey Dean. I've got a job for ya." John's gruff voice replied, straight to point like always.

Instead of asking what he really wanted to know, like how his father was, was he doing okay, had he checked on Sammy lately, Dean simply snatched up the motel note pad and a pen and said to his father,

"Go ahead, what is it? I've got pen and paper at the ready."

"Good boy. It's down in New Orleans. Suspicious goings on and signs of voodoo from what I've seen."

"Seen? You mean you're already there." Dean said it as a statement rather than a question, knowing that the answer was more than likely true.

"Passed through on my way to another case, thought I'd linger for a day or two see what was what, before calling you. Can you do it, son?"

"Yes sir."

"Good boy. Call me when you've finished up."

"Yes sir."

At that the line was abruptly cut off, signalling that the conversation was over and Dean was to get his ass in gear and hit the road to New Orleans.

Thoughts of catching a couple hours of sleep gone, he quickly threw his stuff back into his duffle bag, pulling his knife back out from under the pillow and putting it in his jacket and then checking that his favorite gun was tucked safely into the back of his pants.

He pulled the motel door open, and turned around giving the room one last glance to see if he had left anything behind. Finding nothing, he closed the door and locked it, then returning the key back to the front desk and checking out of the latest crappy motel in a very long line of crappy motels.

He threw his duffle bag onto the back seat of the Impala before climbing into the comfy worn leather of the driver's seat. Dean switched on the engine and felt his baby rumble to life and purr beneath his hands as he rested them on the steering wheel.

He peeled out of the parking lot and drove till he found the road to the highway. To New Orleans it was then. Shame it was the wrong time of year for Mardi Gras, Dean thought to himself a smile on his face.

Another day, another hunt. Little did Dean Winchester know that within a few weeks' time his life was going to begin to change forever, setting him on a path he never would have dreamt of in a million years. Some would say it was for the better, others for the worse. But either way, the domino that had been tipped over years and years before his birth, was finally about to take an even more visible effect on the life of the Winchesters.

The End.

...

Not really I'm just messing with you. Or maybe it is the end and the chapter I'm gonna write after this is more like an epilogue or something, but either way there's at least a bit more I'm gonna squeeze out of this, after all how is Sammy's little bit going to end huh? ;)

But just as little note so you all know and remember, the voodoo case in New Orleans was the one Dean was on when he got that funky call from daddy dearest. If you don't remember then don't feel bad because I didn't either, I just knew he was on a hunt. Of course it gave me the perfect excuse to then watch the first episode again mwahahaha! God I miss the way the brothers used to be :( Well there will be more soon, so until then, ciao, and keep on watching out for some more :)