Disclaimer: Wishing doesn't make it so…I don't own Dean, Sam, the Impala or the show.

A/N: I wrote this in response to a challenge at P.L. Wynter's forum. Sorry if this falls flat or just plain old sucks…Hey it's my first SN fic…just please don't shoot. I threw out most of what happened in the eppy so don't expect it to be the same. The challenge was what would've/could've happened if it had been Dean that Ellicott got to instead of Sam. Sorry about the pov switch, it's almost 2 and I wanted to get this done so I just wrote straight through. My hands are tired now….enjoy

Little Wing

"That's way I get paid the big bucks," Dean Winchester said to himself, sarcastically, as he dropped the thick journal/log book onto the only table with a chair near in the room, disturbing the decades of dust that'd accumulated from non-use. Slipping his thin fingers around the cool metal of the near by aluminum chair Dean moved it closer to the table and eased himself into what he was sure was Dr. Ellicott's favorite writing spot. Pulling the book closer he aimed the beam of the flashlight at the yellowing pages and began to thumb through. Oh man, no wonder they killed him. Dean thought bitterly his hazel eyes scanned quickly over the quickly jotted notes in the margins, the hastily drawn pictures and the final results of the many tests the mad doctor had performed. "All work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy," he muttered to himself as his fingers continued their search through the book.

Thunk. That had definitely come from outside the room. Quietly and nimbly Dean shot himself from the chair. Flushing himself up against the wall, he waited and listened for whatever had made the noise. It wasn't Sam, that was for damn sure. Sam would have called out. Ellicott must be coming out to play.

Thunk. What the hell? he thought as what sounded like a door being repeatedly slammed once again filled the empty corridor. Pushing what little fear he had aside, Dean moved closer to the open door and the hallow sound of the door in the hall. Peering into the mostly dark hall he willed his eyes to pick up the slightest movement, but there was nothing to see. Nothing to hear anymore for that matter as the door had stopped slamming closed. Momentarily relieved to not hear the door hollowly slamming itself shut, Dean leaned back into the wall as he withdrew back into the room.

"Shhh," a voice more hollow than the door slamming had been said as the ghastly face of Dr. Ellicott himself hovered mere inches from his own. Shock and fear coursed through Dean as he stared at the grotesque apparition. The man had endured some before he died…good he mused as the good Doctor's almost skeletal hands shot out and grasped his head between them. Before Dean could even hope of aiming his now forgotten shot gun his mind was flooded with a sudden jolt of electrical current. The scream that tore from his throat didn't register with his ears as the doctor's voice filled his mind, "I'm going to make it all better."

With a groan Dean stirred on the dust covered floor. What the hell? he thought pulling himself from the floor. How the hell did I get on the floor? Swiping his fire arm from the floor he looked at the table and his bag of tricks. Dumping the log book into the bag Dean headed out.

From somewhere deep inside he wondered how he knew his way to the basement, and why it was that he didn't need the flashlight that he'd tossed into the bag with the book. Damn, why'd he have to grab that it was freakin' heavy. Hefting the bag into his other hand Dean stopped as he entered the hall to the basement.

"He left you on the floor." What? he thought the second that he heard the voice echo hollowly off the walls and rotted wooden doors. "He left you." Yeah he did. He got to have his normal life and his normal world while all I got was this shit for a life. The thought suddenly over took his mind. Wait. No. I took that all away from him. I am all he has left. "He's going to leave you again. Here tonight," the voice said as though it could read everyone of his thoughts. Damn right he is.

Before he knew what he was doing, Dean dropped the heavy bag and pulled his phone from its place of comfort in his leather jacket. Pulling up Sam's number on the speed dial…

"Hey," came Sam's soft voice.

"Sam, I found him….he's coming right at me…"

"Where are you?"

"The basement….Sam hurry," he said closing the phone with a sharp snap and slipping it back into his pocket. He didn't have much time.

A mechanical smile etched across his face as his fingers once again gripped the handles of the worn army duffle and he headed off down the hall.

Stopping short he turned and faced a door that didn't look the least bit familiar to him, but somehow he knew what was on the other side of the door. Quickly he pulled it open and stepped into a large empty room. As though it had its own mind a panel of the wall suddenly creaked and opened for him as in invitation.

Without hesitation he stepped inside and sat the bag on the floor. Tearing back the curtains of the almost ancient exam room Dean surveyed the area for ways that he could make sure that whelp of a brother would never-NEVER- leave him again. Smiling again he moved quickly toward a not so damaged gurney on the other side of the room. Pulling on the straps he was certain that they'd keep his little brother still while he worked.

"Dean!" he heard Sam call out as he finished preparing the table for unsuspecting baby brother rushing to save his big brother. "Dean!"

Grabbing his shotgun Dean left the room- heading for the near frantic calls of his newly doomed younger sibling. The light groan of the hidden door told him that it was closing behind him.

"Sam," he said calmly as he exited the newly discovered chamber of horror. After tonight Sam wouldn't be able to leave. May be he would leave Sam just so that the boy could see how it feels. Maybe leave him on the table.

Smirking he aimed his weapon at his now shocked brother. For the life of him, Dean couldn't figure out why the fear that he saw in the brown eyes staring back him made him want to feel bad- guilty. That's the word.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was almost oozing fear as he raised his hands, palms out, in a show of surrender- his shotgun still dangling in one hand. "What're you doing?"

"Put the gun down, Sam," Dean ordered. His fingers tightened reflexively on the grip and trigger of his own weapon.

"What happened, man?" Sam did his best to keep advancing on his older brother while discarding his gun.

"This way." Dean took the aim of the rock salt filled weapon from Sam and used it point to the door that he wanted him to go through. "In there."

Without further question-Dean could feel the kid fighting the urge to fire off the questions that were just burning to get out-Sam did as his big brother instructed. The dust and rust filled room was empty. There was no way out, not unless Dean moved from the door frame and put down the gun. "What are you gonna do, Dean, shoot me?" he asked as he turned to face his armed brother.

Dean smiled as the fear Sam felt finally set into him. This was real. Once again aiming the gun at Sam he said, "You left me, Sammy…how could you do that, huh?" He took large fast steps toward the taller man in front of him. "You won't leave me again, little brother." In a move quicker than the younger Winchester expected Dean dropped the shotgun from one hand and slammed a fist into his solar plexus with the other.

Gasping Sam dropped to his knees as his arms wrapped themselves protectively. A cough threatened to rip through his throat but was cut off as Dean wrapped his fingers through the silken strands of Sam's brown locks. With a low growl Dean forced his brother's head down sharply crashing it into his knee.

A pain filled grunt filled the room as Sam landed on the dirty floor at Dean's feet. He wanted to object as he felt Dean grab his feet and begin to drag him from where he'd fallen, but he couldn't. "Dean," he breathed as the dragging sensation suddenly stopped.

Staring at the lean body of his nearly unconscious brother Dean wanted to kill him then. It would keep him from leaving again, he reasoned as the secret door once again opened up and allowed the hunter and his prey into the room.

Hauling Sam to his feet, Dean forced the taller young man onto the table. The shock of the attack wearing off, Sam began to fight back. Swearing Dean forced the younger man down and quickly began to do the straps up, successfully pinning the kid to the table.

"Dean?" the once trusting voice of his younger brother sounded so scared and unsure now as he lay strapped to a table. "What're you gonna do?"

"Making it so that you can't leave again." Dean yanked the strap across Sam's chest as tight as he could.

"I didn't mean to leave you, Dean. I only wanted to leave the life."

"Liar. You, dad, mom you all left. Sooner or later it'll happen again."

"Dean, it's Ellicott he's gotten to you." Slowly he began to move his fingers to get into his pocket and the folded hunters knife that he kept there- hoping that Dean wouldn't notice his movements. "Whatever you're going to do, you don't have to. I won't leave again, I promise."

"It's not just about that, little brother." The elder Winchester leaned over the table and stared down at the younger man. "You got have the girl…you got to do everything I never, NEVER got to. You had a better future…but now…"

"That's all gone, Dean," he said quietly.

"Well now let's see what we can do about you never being able to leave again, shall we?" Dean said with a smile as he turned away from Sam's prone form strapped to the table.

"Dean," he said not bothering to cover the panic that was edging its way into his voice, "you don't have to do this. I already told you, I won't leave."

"And I told you it wasn't just about that," he snapped back.

Suppressing a victory yelp, Sam wrapped his fingers around the warm metal of the knife he'd been hoping to get a hold of and slowly pulled it from his pocket. Sliding the blade from the handle of the folded knife he carefully cut through the loose straps holding his wrists to the table. Keeping his eyes on Dean he continued to cut through the old rotting leather as he spoke again, "what is IT about then?"

"You in general. You whine too much, always question my orders, dad's orders. You're weak," he said as though he'd been keeping a list.

"That's all?" he asked undoing the last strap holding his feet down. Getting down from the table Sam moved quickly toward his distracted brother.

"Give me time," the older Winchester retorted as he turned to face his younger brother.

Taking advantage of the shock plastered across Dean's once anger twisted face, Sam double his fists and swung at his brother's jaw. A sick crack filled the room as his hands connected solidly with Dean's jaw. Horror and relief raced through him as Dean sank bonelessly to the floor.

Muttering an "I'm sorry" Sam scanned the room for their bag of tricks. Spotting it he moved quickly for it. Ripping it open he spilled some of it contents to the floor as he fished out the can of salt, small plastic bottle of lighter fluid and the lighter. Tools in hand he began to search for the good doctor's remains.

"Finally," he breathed as he opened a cabinet on the far side of the room. Wasting no time Sam pulled open the container of salt and tossed a good amount onto the rotting corpse. Taking a breath he could feel the air in the room change-more electrically charged. Working faster Sam flipped open the combustible fluid, pointed the small bottle at the cabinet and squeezed. Feeling the air around him thicken and almost crackle, he flipped the lighter open and prepared to throw it at the body. Before his hand could release the small Zipo hands were suddenly on his face and the electrical feeling in the air filled his head. Fighting the scream that was attempting to tear free of him, Sam sent his hand in search of the lighter he'd just dropped.

Not wasting time to celebrate his win, Sam flicked the lighter open again and tossed it at the corpse that was almost falling out of the cabinet.

As soon as the hands had grabbed him they let go taking the electricity with them. Before his eyes he watched as the shocked Doctor Ellicott faded away to wherever it was that ghosts went after they "killed" them.

Behind him a light groan filled the air. Turning quickly he made his way back over to where Dean lay on the floor. Shaking the cobwebs from his head, Sam knelt next to his older brother. "You okay?"

"Just peachy," he said pulling himself up to his knees. "We should, um, get out of here."

"Yeah," Sam agreed helping Dean reach his feet.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?" He stopped mid-stride to getting their duffle.

"I didn't mean any of that," Dean said staring nervously at the brown eyes of his younger brother, "you know?"

"I know," he said turning to grab the bag and putting an end to his brother's would be chick-flick moment. "Let's just get out of here."

The End