Will have language and probably violence.

Summary: Crossover with Ghost Hunters. Sam and Dean's first trip overseas to Ireland puts them in the middle of a Ghost Hunters' investigation concerning mischievous fairies. Can the boys do their jobs without being detected by the other hunters, or will the fairies triumph over the boys?

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Supernatural or Ghost Hunters related, but I can't pass up the good material they inspire! Enjoy!! Yes I used direct quotes in this story, but I admit it so please don't sue me!!

"'Nother shot a whiskey, barkeep…" Dean slurred, barely managing to stay on his seat as the room spun around him.

"Think you've had enough, kid. It's only two in the afternoon."

"What're you, my mother?"

"Just a friendly bystander. Look, whatever happened can't be that bad. I think you should go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow, maybe things'll be different."

"Can't sleep."

"What's this about, man? Lose your girl?"

"Ha. I wish it were that simple…"

"Someone die?"

"Only on the inside."

"Can I call someone to pick you up?"

"Nah, I'm good. See ya around."

"I hope not for your sake. Maybe you should try talkin' about it?"

"Loada good that'll do."

"You never know. I heard it works wonders."

"You'll have to let me know, then."

With that, Dean attempted to rise from his stool but promptly landed hard on the floor, jarring his broken ribs and his busted shoulder. He cried out and tried to curl into the smallest ball possible to hide from the pain, including the emotional kind.

"Hey, Buddy! You alright?"

Dean groaned in response, perfectly happy to let the darkness devour him and take all his pain away. He was only slightly aware of the bar tender searching through his pockets. He tensed at the unwanted contact, but didn't have the strength or lucidity to complain.

He let his head fall sideways onto the floor and concentrated on not throwing up. Foggily, he could hear the bar keep's voice talking to someone about him. When he concentrated harder, he assumed the man had found Dean's cell phone in his pocket and no doubt called the first speed dial there was… Sam. Crap.

Dean tried to force himself back up but he found he didn't know which direction was up anymore. A steadying hand on his shoulder was gently trying to coax him back to the floor, but he needed to get out of here before his brother showed up and started grilling him again.

"Lemme go…Gotta… gotta go now…"

"Easy, pal. Just relax a minute. You're brother is on his way."

"No! I've gotta get away from… here…"

"He the one you're havin' problems with?"

"Please… Gotta…"

"Dean?!"

Dean jerked harshly at the booming voice he recognized easily. Shit… Too late.

"Dean? What happened?" Sam dropped to his knees by his brother's side, then turned to the bar tender. "Is he hurt? Did he get in a fight?"

"He looks pretty beaten up, but it didn't happen here. He just sat at the bar and downed half a bottle of whiskey."

"You didn't cut him off?!" Sam raged.

"Hey, it's not really my place to say when someone's had enough unless they get violent. I did cut him off a few minutes ago though and he was getting up to leave when he fell over."

"Jesus, Dean… Why do you always do this to yourself?"

"You got him from here? I've gotta get back behind the bar."

"Yeah, we're good. Thanks for keepin' an eye on him and callin' me."

"No prob."

Bobby came hurrying into the bar just as the bar tender made his way back to his station. Sam had leapt out of the car before he had a chance to park it. Once he found an open spot, he went running for the door in case Sam needed assistance.

"Sam? What happened?"

"Nothin'. He's just wasted. Help me get him to the car…"

Together they lifted Dean who let out occasional groans and whimpers as his stomach revolted and his still healing injuries were jostled. They made their way steadily to the door.

"Last bar in the town that we check and of course it's where he is…" Bobby grumbled.

"You think that was an accident, Bobby? If Dean doesn't want to be found, it's rare he is unless someone else drops a hint."

"Enough's enough, Sam. If we have to interrogate 'im for answers, I've got some experience."

Sam chuckled slightly without actually finding humor in his friend's words. "We might have to at this point."

Just as they passed the doorway, Dean lurched forward and heaved violently. Bobby and Sam lowered him to his hands and knees, but kept him reasonably upright as his body expelled all the alcohol he consumed.

"Easy, kiddo… Let it all out now… That'a boy…"

"Dean, how is all this better than just talkin' it out?" Sam wasn't really expecting an answer.

"S-sam…?"

"Yeah, Dean. I'm right here."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything."

"Let's get you home and then we can talk about it, okay?"

"M'kay."

"You good for now?"

"Think so."

"Let's go then."

They hoisted Dean back onto his feet slowly and dragged him to the truck. It was a tight fit, but Sam squeezed in the middle to give Dean the window seat and to keep Bobby from throttling his brother.

When they made it back to Bobby's house, Sam held Dean away from the door until Bobby had it open and together they half carried, half dragged him inside and dumped him on his bed. Dean curled into a small ball again and was close to passing out.

"Dean? You still awake?" Sam tried.

"Hmm?"

"Why won't you just talk to me, man?"

"'fraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"What you'll think."

"Dean, I'm always on your side. You know that right? I'll never leave you cause of somethin' that happened in the past."

"You 'ready did."

"What? What are you talkin' about?"

"You lef'. Stanford. Didn' come back."

"Dean, that wasn't because of you. I just couldn't hunt forever, you know?"

"You lef'..."

"God, Dean. I'm so sorry I hurt you. That wasn't my intention. I just wanted to be something else. To make something out of myself. I didn't want to follow in dad's footsteps all my life."

"Good li'l soldier. Desperate for his… approval."

"Oh come on, man. I was possessed! I never would have said that to you otherwise!"

"But you meant it."

"No, Dean, I didn't. Not like that. I just wished you had the chance to do what you wanted to do, that's all."

"Not my life."

"What do you mean? Of course it's your life! No one can control it but you."

"And you. And dad."

"Dad? Dad's not here anymore, bro."

"Yeah, he is. I can still hear 'im…"

"Dean?"

"Look out for your li'l brother, boy…"

"Dean…"

"Nigh', Sammy."

Sam sighed as his brother's breathing evened out. He was definitely asleep now. "Damn it, Dean… I wish you could just open up for once and admit you're hurting. This tough guy act isn't foolin' anyone. I'll check on you in a few hours."

Sam pulled Dean's boots and jacket off, then pulled the blankets up around his brother. Then he went back to the kitchen to find Bobby eating one of the sandwiches he had made earlier.

"Thanks for all your help, Bobby. He can be a handful sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" Bobby winked at Sam, coaxing a small smile to cross the youngest Winchester's face. "Yer both gonna make it past this, Sam."

"How can we if he won't let me help?"

"He will, kid. He's just afraid to right now."

"That's what he just said. Why's he so afraid?"

"He went through hell, Sam. We both know that. But he doesn't want you hearin' the details."

"Why? I've heard most of it, haven't I?"

"I wish that were true. Heck, I don't even know the half of it. Not sure I want to."

"Bobby, he said he could still hear dad."

"He what?"

"Just now, before he passed out. He said dad was still here and he could hear him."

"I don't think he meant that literally, Sam. He's not bein' haunted or anything if that's what yer worried about. I'm sure he just meant he could hear his father's voice, like as his conscience or somethin'."

"Scary conscience."

"No kiddin'. Your brother relies on it though. Always has. Did he say anythin' else?"

Sam sighed again and cleared his throat. "He uh… He said he was afraid of what I would think. That I'd left him once before when I went to Stanford, and he threw my own spiteful words back in my face. I didn't mean to say them to him, Bobby. I was being influenced by a maniac."

"What did you say, Sam?"

"Somethin' about him bein' dad's good little soldier and how desperate he was for his approval. That was the same day I shot him with a load of rock salt and pulled the trigger of his own gun at least four times while pointing it at him. Luckily he didn't have it loaded."

"Well… Shit."

"I guess I can understand why he doesn't trust me."

"Sam, I'm sure that's not where he was goin' with it. He's completely wasted, and his mind is pretty messed up."

"It's got a reason to be. Many reasons, actually. He said it wasn't his life. That dad and I could control it too. And I think he quoted somethin' dad told him years ago… 'Look out for your little brother, boy'. I never realized how much dad forced me onto him as a kid."

"It didn't take much forcin', son. I remember when I first met you boys. Dean was always takin' care of you, whether your dad asked him to or not. He saw you as his responsibility, no doubt ever since he carried you outta the house when he was four. He's always been a protective kid, especially when it comes to his own emotions."

In the other room, Dean was tossing fitfully under his blankets.

"You haven't started begging yet. I must be losing my touch. No matter… I've got a backup plan. Shh… I don't care if that was your favorite shirt. Personally, I think you look better without it. This too…"

The shifter pulled his belt easily from the loops and inspected it carefully. "This aught to do the trick. Nice big belt buckle… I like it. Let's test it out, shall we?"

"Jesus, Dean. You're hot when you scream. Can't wait to hear you beg." It walked back in front of him, grabbed him by the hair again, and smashed its lips against Dean's. Dean wanted to throw up then and there. Regardless of whether or not this thing was his real brother, it smelled like him, sounded like him, and felt like him. He had no doubts it probably tasted like him as well.

Dean whimpered loudly enough for Sam's ears to pick it up. "Bobby? Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Dean. I think he's dreamin' again."

They both jumped to their feet and ran into the other room. Dean was locked into place by the blankets tangled tightly around his body. He was sweating, shaking, and occasionally broken sounds would slip through his trembling lips.

"Damn it… Dean? Dean, wake up!"

He fought as hard as he could with the little strength he had left to break free of its grip. When it finally released him, Dean's blood coated its lips. As the creature licked it away as though it were a delicacy, Dean leaned to the side and lost his lunch all over the floor before blacking out.

"Wakey, wakey, Deanie..."

"Dean!"

Dean shot up in the bed, stared around in horror, then tilted to the side and vomited all over the floor.

"Oh, Dean… Gross, man."

Sam leapt up onto the bed to avoid wearing what was left of Dean's stomach and Bobby screwed up his nose and took a few quick steps back.

"Damn, son. For a kid with an empty stomach, you sure puke a lot."

"Ugh… Sorry, Bobby."

"Don't apologize, just figure out that booze only make things worse. No good'll come from the bottom of a bottle, son. Somethin' all hunters end up figurin' out."

TBC

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