Disclaimer : Don't own 'em.

A/N: Not so happy with this chapter, but it's getting there. I'm already working on the next, I was delayed last night with the football game. ;) My boys won. End jock moment. Seriously, though, stick with me, I hope you can at least semi-enjoy this chapter. Review and I'll grant you three wishes!

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For the first time, Sam found himself hoping for a demon, a pissed off spirit that they could deal with easily, something they knew. Salt and burn the bones, and poof, no more problem. Instead, they were faced with the possibility that this was a being they'd never encountered, a being that couldn't be fought.

"What do you know?" he sighed.

"Not a lot," Dean admitted. "I mean, banshees aren't that common. Or, if they are, no one's talking. I don't even think Dad's journal has anything on them."

"Great," Sam muttered.

"A banshee is...a spirit," Dean said, looking into the air as if trying to read from a memory. "That shows up in the form of a woman to warn people of a death. The cry of the banshee was described as being so piercing it could shatter glass. Unearthly. I guess she's not too picky on who can hear her, but apparently if the spirit actually manifests itself to you, if you see her, it's your death she was foretelling."

"That's something, at least," Sam said.

"Yeah, but it still gives us nothing to go on," Dean said, running a hand through his hair. "We can't stop something we can't fight."

"But, that doesn't mean we can't fight the danger, right?" Sam pointed out. "I mean, we can try to stop whatever's going to -"

"No," Dean interrupted. "Think about it, Sam. They're nice people but they're ancient. How are we gonna stop a heart attack, a stroke? What if it's a cave-in, or a car accident?"

Sam sighed dejectedly.

"Look," Dean said. "We'll do what we can. That's all we can do. No promises."

Sam nodded, angry at their inability to do much of anything.

"Besides," Dean continued as they walked. "They've had a good life. Maybe it's just...their time."

"Then why would this spirit be warning them? Or us? Why here, now, if we can't do anything about it?"

Dean shrugged; it was a good point.

"I don't know. I guess we'll find out."

---

Overhead, a winter sun took it's place high in the sky, grey clouds all but obscuring it from view.

The brothers had been walking in a rare, but comfortable silence for over a half hour when Dean spoke up, pointing to his right.

"There's one of those markers they kept talking about."

Nailed to a tree was a worn sign, warning : Danger, trail closed ahead.

Curiosity piqued, Dean peered down the trail.

"Doesn't look dangerous," he remarked.

Sam joined him, looking down the winding path. "No, but they wouldn't lie."

"I wonder why, though," Dean said, craning his neck.

"Who cares?" Sam shrugged. "We have more important things to worry about, Dean."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. Then, suddenly, "I'm gonna go see."

Sam sighed. His brother was like a dog without a bone. Once he was curious about something, he would pick away at it until he was satisfied.

"Dean, it's dangerous. They wouldn't have big signs posted if it wasn't," Sam said, pointing for emphasis.

"I know," Dean replied, "but I want to see why."

His dream suddenly flashing to mind, Sam threw his hands up in frustration. Trust his brother to look for trouble.

"Relax, Sam," Dean said, shaking his head and laughing. "I'm just gonna walk down to that bend, if I don't see anything, we can turn around. I just wanna see what's so scary about a stupid trail. It looks exactly the same as the others."

"They said something about a river, I think," Sam said, hoping that would be answer enough.

"Okay," Dean said. "So if I see a river doing naughty things, there's my explanation."

Sam sighed again, watching his brother take off down the trail, strolling like his half-psychic little brother hadn't just told him he dreamed of his death two nights ago.

"Wait up," Sam said in defeat, heading after his brother.

Ahead, Dean grinned.

Now that he'd brought the dream to mind, it wouldn't leave him alone.

"Dean," Sam said, trying one more time, "you know, just because you can't see something dangerous, doesn't mean it's not there."

"Come on, Sammy!" his brother called, ignoring him.

Sam shook his head, kicking at a rock in the middle of the trail. "I'm coming."

When they reached the bend and saw nothing but more trail spread out in front of them, Dean frowned, and kept walking. Rather than call his brother on his word of turning back, Sam followed, knowing it was useless. Until Dean found something dangerous, or proved that there was nothing there, he would keep going.

"Did it ever occur to you that you're asking for trouble?" Sam asked as his brother lead the way down the trail.

"If I didn't look, it'd find me anyway," Dean shrugged.

Sam frowned. The sad part was, it was true. Trouble had a way of finding them. At least when they found it, they had some element of control.

"Hey Dean?"

Turning back at the tentative sound of his brother's voice, Dean answered, "Yeah."

"Do you ever miss...you know, being normal?"

"Normal?" Dean asked with a sneer. "This is normal, Sam. For us, this is normal."

"You know what I mean," Sam shot back. "Do you ever think what it'd be like without all this? If we weren't...freaks?"

Dean's eyes narrowed at the word.

"This is all I've ever known Sam, damn near all I can remember," he said softly. "It's what I do, what I'm good at. I don't think I would know how to live any other life."

Sam bit his lip, surprised at the candor with which Dean spoke.

"It'd be nice if we could be a happy little family, Sam, but we can't. Mom's dead, Dad's gone, and you and me, we're all we've got. No matter how 'weird' we are, this our life, and there's no changing it," Dean said, his voice still low, but his words strong. "No matter how much you wish you could."

"I didn't say I wish I could," Sam said, looking at the ground.

Dean laughed dryly. "You didn't have to."

"It's nothing against you, or Dad," Sam said, desperately needing to prove that to his brother. "It's just -"

"Don't," Dean said simply. "We've got more important things to worry about."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Come on, Dean."

Just when he felt they were actually able to open up to each other, his brother came had to shut down again. Just like always.

"Don't worry about it, Sam," Dean said, giving him a placating smile.

"Dean- " Sam tried again.

Dean only shook his head and turned around, taking a long stride, and giving a shout of surprise.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, springing forward as he saw his brother disappear from view.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he cursed himself as he ran the few feet between where he stood and where his brother had a moment before.

Skidding to a stop, he realized the problem. Dean hadn't been paying attention, hadn't seen the steep drop off in front of him because he was facing the wrong direction. When he'd spun around, he'd put his foot down on nothing but air, and fallen.

"Awww, fuck!"

Sam looked down at the sound of his brother's voice, eyeing the path on the sharp incline his brother's body had made in the mud.

He was about to laugh, when Dean's voice rose up to him again.

"Sammy..."

Sam blinked at the slight hitch in his brother's voice.

And soon, he knew why.

Standing shakily, covered in mud from head to toe, Dean was surrounded by graves.