The highway flew by outside the windows. The monotonous scenery might have been hypnotic under different circumstances, but Dean couldn't afford to allow himself to be mesmerized by the road. As it stood now, he was their only driver and he had to get Sam some help, and soon. It had been days since Dean let Sam drive. He didn't know what bothered him more – that Sam was so incapacitated by his lack of sleep to the point where he was basically ineffective, or that Sam didn't even bother to fight him about the driving anymore.

Dean glanced out of the corner of his eye at his brother. Sam was in kind of a semi-daze leaning against the passenger side window – not quite awake, but certainly not asleep. Dean had gotten pretty good at reading Sam's body language and was able to anticipate the onset of one of those dreams. For now, Sam was fine, but Dean was ready to jump in if he saw Sam slipping into a nightmare. Dean was having a hard time, being short on sleep himself, and knew if they had any chance of finding Dad or doing anything something would have to be done for Sam first.

The sign for Lake Tenkiller caught Dean's eye and he moved to the exit ramp for Route 10 North. As they left Interstate 40 behind and headed north, the road became a little rougher and the scenery more rustic. A little flicker of hope kindled in Dean's heart; he remembered this place – he liked it. In spite of the creature he and Dad neutralized in this little corner of Oklahoma, Dean carried good memories of that "hunting trip". All of those good memories were attributed to the man Dean was bringing Sam to see. Somewhere along the line, Dean became convinced that he was the one man who could help Sam find some peace.

They managed to travel the entire distance, from the Interstate to the lake, with no outbursts from Sam. Wow Dean thought sarcastically he got a whole forty minutes of sleep - a new record.

Unceremoniously Dean reached over and smacked Sam in the chest as he threw the car into park. "Wake up Sleeping Beauty…time to meet your prince."

Sam didn't respond; he just gave Dean an utterly confused glance. He looked blearily out the windshield at their surroundings. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Lake Tenkiller, Oklahoma." replied Dean.

Sam raised an eyebrow at the name of their location. Dean just shrugged. "It's better than Lake Fortykiller, I guess." Dean leaned toward the door and levered himself out of the car; Sam exited with less grace, but Dean gave him credit for trying to get himself together enough to face whatever demon now lay in their path, not knowing it was his demon they were there to face.

Dean had pulled the car up a long dirt driveway, facing a small but neatly kept one-story wooden house. A man stood on the porch watching the brothers. When they were both out of the car he approached, holding a hand out to Dean.

"Dean Winchester, you are welcome here." the man said warmly. He was dressed in worn jeans and a dusty, red work shirt. He wore his steel grey hair long and loose down his back. His neck was adorned with a simple leather bag on a black leather cord.

"Hey Jonathan!" Dean returned the greeting reaching out to shake the man's hand. "How're things?"

"Everything has returned to normal since you and your father visited."

Dean shook his head and grinned. "Good. Uh, this here's my brother, Sam." Dean turned and gestured to Sam whose deeply ingrained good manners kicked in and propelled him to offer his hand to Jonathan as well. He seemed perplexed by Dean's familiarity with this man. Dean chuckled internally – if Sam though he was being familiar now, wait until he really got started.

"You are welcome, Sam Winchester. We owe your family a great debt. Please, come in." The man gestured toward the house and led the brothers into his neatly organized living room. He immediately offered food and drinks which Dean eagerly accepted. Once Jonathan had gone off to the kitchen, Sam leaned over to Dean.

"What's the deal, Dean?"

"Oh, you know. Jonathan called us in to deal with a local legend. Ever hear the story of Spearfinger?"

Sam's brown creased in a frown. He shook his head slightly no.

Dean smiled; for once he was the one who knew a story off the top of his head. "See, Spearfinger is a Cherokee legend. She was this old woman who lived in the forest and would lure kids to her."

"Like Hansel and Gretel?" Sam asked.

"Not exactly," Dean continued. "Spearfinger would offer to comb the children's hair and when they got close enough, spear them with her bony finger. Then she'd eat their livers and suck the life out of them. If the kids managed to get away, she could take on the appearance of a family member, enter the house and get the kids in their sleep."

Sam's eyebrows rose in astonishment, but he knew Dean wasn't pulling one over on him. They'd dealt with crazier things.

"The thing is, Spearfinger doesn't leave any marks – no bruises, no cuts, no bleeding. The kids just start to get weak and die. Jonathan tried to tell the local authorities what he thought was going on. Of course they didn't believe him – they just chalked up his story to the ramblings of an old man unwilling to accept that one of his grandchildren was sick and going to die."

"So he called Dad?"

Dean nodded. "Yep. We came down. Jonathan helped up set a trap for Spearfinger. We shot off her finger. End of story."

"Not exactly the end." said a voice from behind them. Sam jumped. Jonathan walked around the couch and set the tray he'd been carrying on the coffee table before them.

"The end," he continued, "was the returned health to all of the children Spearfinger had attacked. Many lives were saved. Our gratitude is boundless and the debt can never fully be repaid."

Dean perked up. This was the perfect opening. "Well," he began around a mouthful of sandwich, "I have a way you can start…"

Jonathan leaned forward expectantly. Dean continued, "See Sammy here has been having these wicked nightmares…and I thought, you know, you could do some of that Native American spirit stuff and you might be able to help."

Sam's jaw dropped and he looked thunderstruck. But Jonathan looked at him in speculation. Dean happily munched on his sandwich.