Disclaimer: Never in my wildest dreams.

A/N: It has come to my attention that I am a phycic... at least if I could spell it, I would be one. Actually, I'm lying... about both things... I can spell psychic, and I'm not really one. But looking back on history I know that soon my computer is going to crash, and I will loose all of my stories. And in the many months that it has been since posting, I've accumulated damn near fifty stories, and the loss of them would be cause for a national disaster. Anyways, I've decided to start posting again on here so that when the inevitable does happen, I'll at least have a back-up of these stories.
Now with this particular one shot. Ironically it ties in with the last one I have on here; 'To the Count of Five'. When I wrote it, however, it was writen a long time after I wrote 'To the Count of Five', and I really had no intention of posting it right after because I wanted this one shot to be able to be read as an individual story, not necessarily a continuation. But, I wanted to grab my readers attention after my nice hiatus, and so posting the following one shot seemed like a good way to do it. In conclusion, yes it is very connected to the one shot 'To the Count of Five', and will make those of you who took that one as a death fic happy. Enjoy!

Title: And Back Again
Genre: This story is pretty suspessful.
Summary: This is one of the few stories that has very little to do with Sam and Dean-- hell, they're not even in it until then end. But... it ties in with something very real that happened to them.

And Back Again

"Em! Hey Em!" the young boy's eyes shone with excitement, "Want to play?"

The girl spun around, her white dress whirling around her, and her dark, wavy hair bouncing atop her head, "My name is Emily. And why would I want to play with you Andrew?" she paused, "You're evil."

"I am not evil," Andrew declared, anger laced in his ten year old voice, "You're just a baby."

"I'm seven," Emily spoke defiantly, "And Daddy said that makes me a big girl."

Andrew rolled his eyes, "Who cares. Come on, lets play."

Five.

Emily pondered this a moment, "Alright. What do you want to play?"

"Hide and go seek," Andrew instantly replied.

"I don't know how to play that," Emily admitted.

"It's simple," Andrew shrugged, "You face the corner over there and count. I'll run and hide, and after you're done counting, you have to come and find me."

Emily looked around the room she was standing in. She really wasn't supposed to be there-- it was her parents room. A tall mirror that her mother always fixed her dresses in sat in the corner beside her. Beside the door was the large bed with a night table sitting beside it; a tall candle burning light into the dim room. An expensive dresser with glass designs in it was against one wall and the walk in closet that held all her Mom's shoes and dresses was on the wall to her right.

Somehow Emily couldn't imagine very many places to hide in the small room.

"There's no where in here to go," Emily voiced her thoughts.

"Don't worry," Andrew shook his head, "I'll leave the room. But," an almost sinister smile came to the ten year olds face, "You still have to face the corner."

Four.

"Ok," Emily agreed, "How far shall I count to?"

"Five," Andrew spoke quietly.

"Alright," Emily nodded, "But how do I know if I've won?"

Andrew though about this a moment, "When you've found me."

Emily moved to the corner of the room and turned her back to Andrew.

Three.

"But Andrew," Emily called out, "You must make sure you make it easy. I've never played this game before remember."

"But I thought you said you weren't a baby," Andrew reminded her, "That you were a big kid."

"I am," Emily turned back around.

"Then you shouldn't be scared about where I am," Andrew seemed to be testing Emily in a way that neither child understood.

"I'm not scared," Emily stopped her words for a moment before continuing, "I just don't trust you."

"And why not Emily Rose?" Andrew stood to his full high, and huffed his chest out.

"Because you're evil," Emily stated simply.

"So?" Andrew shrugged, "Turn around."

Two.

Emily looked at Andrew a moment before turning her back to the room.

"Make sure to cover your eyes," Andrew reminded her, "It doesn't count if you don't cover your eyes."

"Alright," Emily pulled her small hands up to her face, "Just hurry up and hide. I don't want Mom or Daddy to know I've been in here."

"Count to five," Andrew stated bluntly, "Backwards so I know you're not cheating."

"Five," Emily's hands continued to cover her face as she began her count.

Andrew didn't move, but instead just stood and stared at the back of her dress; her hair falling down.

"Four."

Swallowing hard, the ten year old pulled out a pair of scissors from the back of his pants. The handle was cool to the touch, and the blade ran long and sleek with a sharp end. His hand griped the scissors tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"Three."

Andrew took a slow, silent step towards the corner where Emily stood. The metal weapon was still in his hand, and the blowing of the wind through the drapery masked any sound of his movement. He could smell her now; the smell of youth and sacrifice.

Of ignorance.

"Two."

He was close now. The scissors were loose in his sweaty hand as Andrew mentally drew the picture of his next move. Emily's back heaved in and out with the movement of her breath. Which one would be her last? Andrew knew he would decide that-- decide how and when. A small curl of a smile came to his lips moments before it happened. Emily was right.

He was evil.

One.

Everything was quiet. That was the first thing that Dean noticed; was the silence. Not a sound came from anywhere, and the hunter was afraid to move, or even breath incase he should miss some sound to indicate where he was and what had happened.

He remembered.

Sam and himself had been going through the old house, trying to find a poltergeist that was causing trouble. No one had seen the thing… just heard it. Seen the broken glass it caused, or been locked into or out of rooms. It seemed like a simple case until the brothers had got to the top floor, and to the room with the large bed and fancy dresser.

Sam had screamed.

"Sammy…" only as this memory relayed in Dean's mind did the words escape his mouth.

With the realization of voice came the feeling of immense pain rushing though Dean's whole body. He was laying on the ground, covered in what felt like a mixture of wood, glass and blood. Something was loosely gripped in his right hand, and as Dean blindly felt it, he realized it was his flashlight.

"Come on," Dean whispered, hoping the once useless item would turn on.

The beam of light coming out of the end was followed by a brief sigh of relief from the older brother as he immediately began to pan around the room for Sam.

"Sammy," Dean gasped, spotting Sam crumpled on the floor on the opposite side of the room, "Sam!"

"Humpp?" Sam mumbled incoherently.

"Sam," Dean repeated as he came closer, "Hey man… open your eyes."

Sam obliged, and stared at Dean through confused green eyes.

"Hey Sammy," Dean groaned in pain as he attempted to get Sam into a sitting position.

Sam let out his own hiss of pain as glass dug into the palms of his hands. Realization of the broken glass surrounding him brought the younger brother's mind back to the situation.

"Oh God, Dean," Sam breathed, "Are you ok?"

Dean nodded, holding Sam's face in his hand to get a better look, "I'll be fine. What about you?"

The light shone in his face from his brother's flashlight as Sam nodded his head, "I'm ok. Dean, what the hell happened?"

"I don't know," Dean frowned at a large cut running down the side of Sam's face, "But we have to get out of here."

Before either Winchester could move, a loud, rustling wind swept through the room. Instinctively Dean grabbed Sam's arm, and positioned himself in front of him. As the wind died down, light shot out from two points in the room; a white mist slowly forming into two figures.

"Dean…" Sam whispered out.

"Shut up Sam," Dean spoke just as quietly, still keeping himself between his little brother and the unknown presence.

Slowly the swirl of light and white made its way into a young girl. Her arms were no longer gray and lifeless, and the blood from her dress was gone. A boy; taller and older, appeared feet away looking confused and frightened.

"Emily…" his voice was quiet, though echoed throughout the room.

"Andrew," Emily smiled, pausing for the moment, "…I found you."

The End.