The next morning they woke up at relatively the same time, which for the Winchesters was an odd occurrence. Both were sort of anxious about getting out there and hunting in bodies that they hadn't operated for the last 20 odd years. Dean vaguely felt like he was borrowing someone's car and couldn't get the seat in the right place and the rearview mirror just couldn't be put in the right spot for him to see. He could see, he just felt like he couldn't see as much as he could in his own car and it bothered him. But they had decided last night to hunt, and that meant they had a lot of talking to do, a lot of work to do before they could go on this "simple" salt and burn and take care of that pesky ghost.

"Sammy? You awake?"

"Yeah. I am."

"We need to figure out what to do."

"Keep sleeping?"

"You never want to keep sleeping."

"Haven't had any nightmares since I've been stuck in your head. Kinda nice."

"I didn't think you still had nightmares."

"Not all of the time, and not like I used to have. I just don't have good dreams."

"I haven't had any dreams." Dean stated.

"Huh. Must be nice. You get my body to work better than I can."

"About that."

"What?"

"When you hunt…do you have to favor a side or something?"

"I don't understand."

"I know that we've hunted a lot and you have taken some good knocks. I was just wondering if anything except your back hurts."

"Well, right wrist isn't so strong anymore. After that stupid zombie chick broke it, it hasn't exactly been right since. You have to baby it a little. It'll hurt if you hold your gun for too long." Dean nodded. "What about you Dean?"

"My knees."

"You never look like your knees hurt you."

"Well, I've been kicked in the knees one too many times, slid the wrong way one too many times, and squatted too often. Plus, dude I'm approaching 30."

"That is so not old Dean."

"In the hunting world it is ancient."

"I guess you're right." Sam paused and thought for a second. "What do you do about it?"

"I take some pain meds before I do anything physical."

"Then…"

"I take them just about every morning."

"I've never seen.."

"Dude, you don't watch everything that goes into my mouth. And I quote 'Dean you are so disgusting when you eat.'" Sam rolled his eyes.

"I suppose you're right."

"Yeah, dude, I'm right."

"Okay, oh wise one, what is the first thing we need to do to get ready for this."

"I guess you need to go do the research on the house and I need to check our artillery." Dean said as he got up.

"No. I need to go check the artillery, you need to do the research."

"What?"

"In case you haven't looked in a mirror this week, you aren't exactly the one that is expected to do the gun cleaning."

"But…no demon can see what we are doing when we are here."

"But when we are on a hunt, I'm the one who usually spouts the information on the house or the haunting, and tell you how to shoot and kill the evil nasty. Very rarely do you ever have any vital information. So, that means, little brother, that you have to do the research."

"I am so not your little brother."

"You are until I am back in my 6'4 body." Sam got out of bed and grabbed the clothes and headed towards the bathroom.

"But…Sam…where?"

"You let my mind steer you in regards to your free time so let it do the same in regards to research." Sam shut the door and the water started in the shower. Dean sighed and sat down on the bed and ran a hand through hair that was way too long.

"I so should give you a hair cut Sammy…you know maybe some night when we have this straightened out I will come in by the dark of night and shave a nice long strip in your head." Sighing, he stood and forced himself to find Sammy's computer. Once found and turned on, he settled down and he relaxed enough to allow Sam's brain and body do what was necessary to complete the task. Like Sammy, he sat there through all of the commotion of Sam getting the necessary shot guns out of the car, sitting them on the bed and cleaning them and making sure they were loaded and ready for bear…or in their case ghost.

"So what do you have college boy."

"What?" Dean asked aggravated.

"Don't really like that nick name do you?"

"Shut up bitch."

"Nope. Bitch is my line. You get to say jerk." Dean threw up his hands exasperated.

"Why are you so hell bent on doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Acting like me."

"I want this to go well. Perhaps you should start talking like me."

"I don't know enough big words." Sam rolled Dean's big green eyes.

"You have my intelligence at your finger tips. Use it. Now what have you found?"

Dean sighed and tried his best to give the information in the same way that Sam would. "Well, it looks like some nasty stuff went down in that house. The children were victims of child abuse. Looks like the mother did stuff like burning them on the stove, putting them in boiling water, and starvation and eating their own filth." He felt his voice hitch. Dean so did not cry. He must really be getting into "character" he swallowed and continued. "Looks like the mother finally killed the kids and then she was shipped to an insane asylum."

"Sounds like vengeful spirit material to me."

"Definitely."

"Where are they buried?"

"The kids are buried in Pine Hills Cemetery, it's a kind of out of the way place, just a couple of miles from St Rt 4."

"What about the mother?"

"Still at Anderson Mental Facility."

"How old were the kids?"

"10 and 14."

"Wow. That was one sick puppy. How can you do that to your kids?"

"I do not know."

"So, what do we do?"

"Looks like we go and salt and burn the kid's bones."

"I'm ready when you are Sammy." Dean said as he closed the computer. They packed their things, got the car ready and were just about ready to leave when Bobby stopped them.

"You boys ready?"

"Think so." Sam said from the driver's seat. To anyone who knew the Winchesters superficially, they wouldn't notice anything was amiss. It looked like Dean was sitting in the driver's seat, leather coat collar pulled up in the back and ready to go, while Sam, sitting in the passenger's seat looked tired and mournful as if the whole world was planted on his shoulders. Bobby, however, knew the boys well enough to see the subtle differences.

"You boys really need to be careful out there."

"We've hunted all of our lives Bobby." Dean said.

"No. I mean about how you conduct yourselves outside of my property. Demons can't watch you on my property. Let's just say I've erected a sort of demon black out around my land and garage. But once you are outside my bounds, they will be able to watch you and if you guys slip up they will notice that something is amiss. You two need to be careful of what you call the other."

"Huh?" was Dean's intelligent reply.

"Dean, you need to look at your body and say Dean, not Sam or Sammy. And Sam you need to look at your body and call it Sam or Sammy. You need to work on your voice Sam, and Dean you need to make sure you use that body gracefully, and allow yourself to wear your heart on your sleeve because that is what your brother does." Both looked at one another and sighed.

"Okay, thanks Bobby. We'll try to be home before tomorrow night."

"Call if you can't make it before tomorrow night." Both nodded.

"Ready to go Sammy?" Sam asked Dean.

"Let's just go Dean." Dean said to his brother. Bobby rolled his eyes and watched the two drive away from his protection. He hoped this would go well. They couldn't afford for it not to. Demons were watching and they would pounce on this slip faster than you can say demon. Bobby gave a silent prayer to God that everything would turn out all right.