The bunker was quiet... for once. For the last several weeks, too many to count actually, Sam and Dean had been hunting almost non-stop. A coven of witches in Milwaukee, a nest of vamps in Buffalo, a pair of Vetala in Grand Rapids, and werewolves running amuck all over the north east! Needless to say, the brothers were exhausted.

But as physically and mentally drained as Sam was, he tossed and turned the whole first night they had been back home, unable to shut off these nagging feelings. It was eating at him how crazy things had been lately. It seemed like every monster in the northeast portion of the country decided to lose their minds at the same time. It was almost like it had been coordinated. Coordinated by someone who wanted to keep them busy. Sam suddenly jumped from his bed like he'd been shot from a canon. He flung his door open and sprinted down the hall in only his boxers and a T-shirt. He banged on Dean's door and flung it open before Dean could even lift his head from his pillow.

"DEAN!", Sam shouted as the door slammed loudly into the wall. Dean jerked awake, grabbed the gun from under his pillow, and leveled it at his brother's head before he realized what he was doing.

"Sam! What the Hell?!", Dean barked, shoving the gun back under his pillow. He squinted his eyes at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand and groaned. "Dude! It's 4 am!" He sat up and rubbed his tired face with both hands.

"I've been thinking!", Sam blurted, completely ignoring Dean's angry glare. "About why we've been so busy lately." Sam was pacing back and forth at the foot of Dean's bed, staring at the floor as he talked. "All of this happening at once can't just be a coincidence! Nothing we do happens by coincidence! It can't!" Dean watched Sam's agitated pacing with a perplexed look on his face. He was too tired to think, let alone try to keep up with Sam's rambling.

"Sam, what the fuck are you talking about?" Sam looked over at his older brother and Dean was blinking at him, trying to wake up enough to understand what Sam was babbling on about. Sam walked over and sat down on the edge of Dean's breath and tried to calm himself down.

"All of these back to back hunts, the craziness, the werewolves everywhere... It can't just be a natural occurrence! Not for us anyway!"

"What do you mean? You think somebody's pulling the strings here?" Dean turned and threw his feet over the side of the bed so that he was sitting next to his brother. Sam just nodded, staring off at nothing. "Who?"

"I don't know, Dude", Sam whispered. "I don't even know if I'm right. It's just a feeling." Sam's head hung low as he began to second guess himself. "Look Dean, I'm sorry I woke you. I just..." His words trailed off and he was quiet.

"Sammy", Dean whispered, clapping a hand on Sam's shoulder. "After all we've been through, I'd be stupid not to trust your gut. I know from personal experience what ignoring your feelings can lead to.

"Yeah", Sam muttered. He wished he felt as confident about his feelings as Dean appeared to be.

"We can talk about this in the morning, OK?", Dean groaned, pulling his legs back onto the bed and under the covers. "I would like to get some more sleep."

"Right", Sam whispered, standing up and heading toward the door.

"And Sam?" Sam turned and saw Dean laying on his side, facing away from him.

"Yeah?"

"If you ever wake me up like that again, they'll never find the body. Ya get me?"

"Yeah, yeah...", Sam chuckled. "'Nite Jerk."

"Mmmm...'nite Bitch." Dean was snoring even before Sam was out the door.

Dean came shuffling down the hall and into the kitchen, groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair was sticking out in all directions and he had dark circles under his eyes. He was still in his bed clothes and he looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. Sam was already showered, shaved, and dressed, with not a hair out of place. He was sitting at the table with his laptop open in front of him, tapping away at it.

"IT LIVES!", Sam called out cheerfully, not even looking up. Dean didn't respond. He simply growled and stalked over to the coffee pot. Sam knew better than to poke the bear before his first cup, especially a bear as crabby as this one. Dean sat his cup on the table and flopped down on the seat opposite his brother. If Sam hadn't known better, he would have thought that Dean was hung over, but he knew that the elder Winchester was still exhausted. Dean was the kind of hunter that gave everything for the job, leaving nothing for himself. Sam worried that Dean would eventually die from giving too much. It wasn't until half way through his second cup, that Dean finally spoke.

"You find anything hinky?" He was still sipping at his coffee and he was squinting like the light was hurting his eyes.

"I don't know. Maybe", Sam sighed. "There's been some cattle mutilations and a blackout in New Mexico. Centered in... ", Sam scanned his computer again, looking for the location. "Bluewater."

"Demon sign? But that's pretty far away from where we've been hunting lately. Do you really think it's related?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck trying to work out the kinks in his overworked muscles.

"I don't know", Sam whispered and Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, look. If you were trying to distract people from what you were doing, would you do it in you're own back yard?" That made Dean think. He nodded and went back to sipping his coffee. "I just don't know if there's enough going on there to warrant a trip. You need another few days to recoup, Dean. You're running on fumes as it is. We both are."

"Yeah... yeah, I know", Dean whispered, staring down at what was left of his coffee. He tipped his cup back and downed the contains in one gulp. He stood up and put his empty cup in the sink before moving toward the doorway again. "You keep an eye out while I take a shower." Sam stared at his back as he walked out with slumped shoulders. Sam had the thought that his brother had never looked so old... so beaten down. They had had lots of wins lately, but the last few hunts had definitely taken their toll on him. It was strange. Dean used to live for the hunt. Thrived on violence. He's had to just to keep from going insane. But lately, he was starting to show signs of an oncoming mental breakdown.

Sam sighed, rubbing his weary face with both hands. God! He wished that they could have just one moment's peace! Their lives would never be normal, he knew that. But, just a little smidgen of normalcy? Was that too much to ask? He slammed the screen down on his laptop and decided to make breakfast. Dean would appreciate some greasy heart attack inducing food right now. He walked over to the fridge and started rummaging around for what he needed.

He just hoped that there was still some bacon left.