So, I'm trying to get the rest of this posted in as short of time as possible...thanks for reading!! bambers;)

Chapter Eleven

Sam was sitting at the table in their motel room with his laptop open, doing research when Dean entered the room. He looked up at Dean briefly, and smirked. "You're shirt's on inside out and you're wearing it backwards, dude." He chuckled softly as he returned his attention to the computer screen. Without looking back up at Dean, he added, "So I guess I don't really have to ask how your day was."

Not bothering to reply, Dean wheeled to the table, and glanced at the information Sam had written down on a notepad. "Found anything yet?"

"Not much, although I did go back to the cemetery today."

Distractedly, Dean flipped through the pages of the notepad, and noticed his brother had more questions than actual answers. "Find anything there?"

"Thought I saw something. Felt something." Sam shrugged, raking his fingers through his shaggy hair. "I dunno, it could've been nothing."

"Saw something as in Edgar's spirit?"

"Not sure. It was the middle of the day. Could've just been a trick of the light." Letting out a deep sigh, Sam continued, "Besides, whatever it was, it was leading me away from Edgar's grave not toward it."

Looking over Sam's notes again, Dean pointed to three names he didn't recognize. "Who are these people?"

"Those are three of the people from the accident Edgar caused, I've been trying to track them all down to see if they may have died shortly afterward. Figured if they had, Edgar might've felt guilty enough about it to take his own life."

"And?" Dean thought it was a long shot at best, and knew his brother must have run out of credible leads to look into something so far fetched, but didn't have the heart to say so.

"These three are still alive, but I'm still trying to track down the others."

"Was anyone seriously injured?"

"Not these three. Minor injuries, cuts and bruises. Think the most serious injury was a broken collar bone."

"Sammy, I think you might be lookin' for something that just isn't there," Dean reluctantly admitted.

"Don't think I am, Dean," Sam shook his head, and gestured toward the computer screen. "There's just something wrong about the whole thing. Conflicting police reports, a huge coverup, Edgar getting fired and then committing suicide. Why? If no one was seriously hurt why would they fire him, and why would they try to cover it up?"

"Maybe Edgar had some skeletons in his closet, and after the accident they came to the forefront."

Pursing his lips, Sam shook his head again. "He was a good cop, Dean. Had several commendations in his files, and received three medals for heroism throughout his career on the force. He was even up for a promotion."

"And so it all comes back to the accident."

Sam flipped through his notes, and gestured to what he'd written down about his visit to Edgar's daughter Mary. "She said that she'd caught him crying several times when he was looking at some newspaper clipping." He turned to look at Dean, a determined expression on his face, and declared, "That article was the reason he killed himself. And it's the reason he's not at rest, and it's also the reason why you can't walk, I'd stake my life on it."

"Well, what was in the article?" Dean asked, and saw his brother frown.

"Dunno, but I'm gonna find out."

Dean nodded, understanding his brother's need to try and fix what was wrong with him, but knew he was grasping at straws. "How do you plan on findin' out what was in a newspaper clipping from eight years ago. It's not like Edgar's goin' tell you."

"No, but maybe his other daughter can. And if I have to, I'll drive all the way to freakin' Boston to find her."

"An' if she doesn't know? Then what?"

"Dunno, Dean," Sam growled, throwing up his hands in anger and frustration, eyes narrowing as he glared at Dean. "Maybe I'll go to the freakin' cemetery with a damn spirit board, conjure up his sorry ass and ask him myself. It's not like you are — " The sound of Sam's phone ringing stopped him from saying anything else, and he hastily answered it.

"Yeah, this is Sam Chichester." Sam paused to listen to what the other person was saying, and then grabbed for his notepad. "And you're sure that's what it said, Mary? Absolutely sure?" he said as he glanced in Dean's direction, a deep frown creasing his brow.

"What's she saying?" Dean whispered, but Sam just gave him an odd look, and shook his head.

"How long ago was that? Did it say in the article?" Sam went on with his conversation, and the bits and pieces Dean was gathering from Sam's responses were slowly starting to grate on his nerves.

"And it happened four months after the accident? Mmhmm . . . I see."

"Damn it, Sammy, what happened four months after the accident?" Dean growled in aggravation, seeing the stricken expression on his little brother's face.

"And did it say how she died?" Sam was silent for a moment as he threw his pad of paper aside, not bothering to write anything Mary had said down. "Thanks for calling me back, Mary." Sam hung up the phone, and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair, and stood to leave. "I gotta go out for a while."

"Wait," Dean stared up at him incredulously, "aren't you even gonna freakin' tell me what she said first?"

"Some girl committed suicide four months after the accident. Mary's sister Anna had saved the article," he said as he headed toward the door. "I really have to go, Dean. Have to check something out."

Sam hesitated with his hand on the doorknob, looked back at Dean, and Dean noticed he had an almost sad reluctance to actually leave. Then without a word, he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Flicking on his flashlight, Sam walked amongst the gravestones, flashing his light on each and everyone searching for one in particular. The wind rustled through the trees, bending them low, and several times, Sam had to push them out of the way as he continued to hunt for the grave. Overhead, bats flew in and out of the trees, and he was forced to duck as a few of them skirted very close to his head.

He aimed his light ahead of him, and noticed a dark shadow hovering around one grave, the light coming from a lamppost, slightly illuminating the figure. Stealthy, he crept toward it, and was somewhat surprised that it didn't try to attack him. As he edged closer to the gravestone, the same feeling of sadness that he'd felt earlier in the day overwhelmed him once again.

The shadowy figure backed away to hover amongst the trees as Sam directed his light onto the stone, and then dropped to his knees beside it. Scrubbing his hand across his face, he lowered his head to read what was written on the stone, and then narrowed his eyes to peer into the darkened copse of trees.

"You sonuvabitch," he shouted, his voice echoing in the stillness of the night. "This is why you hurt my brother?"

In a blink of an eye, the shadowy spirit of Edgar loomed over Sam, and Sam felt crushed beneath the weight of Edgar's guilt and despair. His head shot backwards as the force of all Edgar's memories rushed through him, and he saw her. Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt her fear and panic as she was trapped inside her car. He could smell the acrid scent of smoke as it rolled upward from the engine, and saw the flames. He heard someone shouting orders, and the flames disappeared, and someone was cutting away at the car door. Touching his forehead, he felt the deep gash that sliced through her forehead, blinking as blood dripped down into her eyes. Sam felt himself being lifted as they placed her in an ambulance, and it drove away.

A flash of white-hot pain erupted behind his eyes, and he felt as if he was drowning. His lungs burned as he tried to gulp in air, but his mouth filled with dirty water causing him to gasp and sputter. Something was weighing him down, and vainly he struggled to bridge the surface until his will gave out, and he dropped to the ground unconscious.