A/N: Finally, I was able to upload this chapter after two days of trying. Uf.

My thanks goes to Andrea, my new beta! She did a great job and I hope you'll find the chapter better. So read and enjoy, and don't forget to send a review.

Brother's Role

by Nicol Leoraine

Part 6

He didn't hear it coming, didn't even feel it. Only his gut was telling him to look out for trouble, but Sam was never good at listening to his gut, and either way, the warning came too late.

''Dean!''

He cried out even before he spun around and saw that his brother was no longer there. Sam's eyes went wide when he saw Dean in the air, hanging limply as if thrown across somebody's shoulder, his stance reminding Sam of the firemen's carry. But there was nothing keeping him there. Only the misty entity, a form looking remotely like an old, haggard man.

''Dean!'' Sam shouted again, this time his voice unable to conceal all the horror he felt at finding his brother in the grasp of some monster. What was worse, Dean didn't look like he was fighting back and Sam knew very well that short of being unconscious, nothing could stop his brother from fighting.

''Hey, you bastard! Let him go!'' Sam knew that it wouldn't do any good, but he still had to say something. Distract the ghost, if that was what it was, and give Dean a chance to react, or at least think about a way to save himself. But luck wasn't on his side and the misty figure didn't think him worth enough to reply.

Sam pulled out the gun Dean gave him, suddenly feeling like an idiot for coming there so unprepared. He practically heard his father scolding him, and this time, he could only agree. But there was no time to indulge in self-recrimination. He knew the silver bullets in Dean's gun wouldn't hurt the ghost, but he hoped they could at least get his attention. Wasn't that what Dean did all the time? Getting the attention of some monster so Sammy could do his job and finish it off with some Latin?

Sam aimed and fired. He emptied half the magazine into the man, but the only thing he accomplished was the ringing in his ears. The spook vanished into the bushes, along with his brother. Shouting out a curse, Sam ran after them, not sure what he'd do when he caught up, but knowing that Dean's life depended on him.

x

Something was painfully digging into his stomach and he blinked, trying to push back the nauseous feeling. The swaying motion was making him dizzy and hanging head down wasn't helping.

''Sam?'' Dean asked in a small voice. The only reason he could think of for the way he was being treated was that he had been hurt and Sam was carrying him to safety. But he didn't feel hurt, and as his vision cleared and the fuzziness retreated, he could tell that whoever was carrying him wasn't Sammy. He thought for a brief, confused second that maybe it was their father, but looking down at the misty figure, he excluded that option as well.

Upon that realisation, Dean instictively reacted. His hands curled into fists as he brought his left elbow against the neck of his kidnapper. Under any other circumstance, he would've felt a stab of pain when he connected with the neck at the base of skull, and his attacker would at least develop a headache. But this one didn't even flinch. Instead of a painful hiss and a release of the tight grip, all Dean got was a sickening chuckle.

''You won't run from me boy. Not this time.''

Dean wanted to disagree about the not running part, but he paused.

''Dude, let me go. You're crazy, I never saw you before!'' Dean growled and kicked out, gasping at the bone deep cold that hit him. Obviously the guy was not only crazy but a ghost as well.

''Where's my brother?'' Dean asked after a moment, trying to hide the growing panic. ''If you hurt him-''

The chuckling sound came again but this time it was more amused than angry.

''You're a tough one, boy. But I'll teach you some respect, don't fear. I taught Callum and I will teach you too.'' Dean felt the threat and unconsciously shivered. Then he realised that the name was familiar and he mentally kicked himself that he hadn't realised it right away. The only excuse he had was that his mind was still a little scrambled from whatever influence the ghost had on him.

''You're Joe Hannings,'' he mumbled and once again started squirming, this time trying to get a good look at the ghost's face. The only result he got was a wicked toothless smile, the scent of decay breathed into his face and the coldness creeping through his insides, as the spectre tightened his hold on him. Crying out in frustration, Dean stopped fighting. Instead he concentrated on their surroundings, trying to see their position, and maybe catch a sight of his little brother planning a rescue. With a sigh, Dean lowered his head, not a bit wiser. Trees were everywhere and there was nothing that looked familiar, no clear landmarks. It was hard to look up at the sky but at least he could chance a guess that they were going to the west, as it was still quite early and the sun was behind them. But there was no sign of Sam, not a sound. The only consolation Dean had was the misty recollection of hearing Sam's voice calling his name. He knew his brother was still alive and that was more than a little reason for hope.

It looked like Hannings wasn't planning to kill him outright, as he would've already done so. And he had said something about teaching him a lesson. Well, Dean wasn't planning on sticking around long enough to learn anything from the bastard. He was sure he'd get a chance to escape. Until then, it would be best to co-operate.

''Why did you take me?'' Dean asked, gasping as the shoulder dug deeper into his gut when Hannings ducked under a rather low bough.

''You came after me.'' Hannings replied as if it was as clear as the sky. He sounded almost surprised by the question, but not more than Dean was at the answer.

''I didn't!'' he protested fiercely, then grunted, when Hannings shrugged.

''You were at my house. You got to see the witch.''

Dean rolled his eyes. These weren't the answers he wanted but judging by the tone they were given, he didn't think that Hannings would be more forthcoming.

''Where are you taking me then?''

To tell the truth, Dean didn't think he would get an answer, so it surprised him when Hannings spoke.

''To the mines. Plenty of space, hundreds of old tunnels. No one to hear you scream.'' The last comment was added with a sickening laughter that scared the hell out of Dean. Suddenly he wished they'd stayed at the motel or that they'd completely ignored this gig.

A loud thunderclap made him flinch, but he was surprised when he felt Hannings shiver and his gait faltered. Then he started running.

''Hey!'' Dean protested, the motion making him dizzy once again. He didn't understand why the spook had started running. Surely, he didn't see some threat? Maybe Sam was closer than he thought, Dean thought hopefully, but then the smile fell as another thunderclap announced the oncoming storm. Hannings once again flinched and Dean suddenly realised that the ghost wasn't running from Sam, because Sam wasn't there. He was running from the storm. When the first raindrops fell and Hannings hissed as if scalded, Dean knew what to do.

x

The rain started up at the same time as Sam's panic. It felt like an eternity since he saw Dean vanish in the bushes, tossed across the spook's shoulder like a bag of potatoes, unmoving. Even though it wasn't more than thirty minutes, Sam couldn't help but feel like he had lost Dean. There was no path to start following, never mind the fact that any tracks were vanishing right before his eyes, as the rain puddled on the ground.

Not only had he lost Dean, Sam was sure he was lost too. There was no way he could find his way back to the cabin of Susan Stockhart and only a slim chance that he'd find Dean's car anytime soon. Not before the storm ended. Flinching as another lightning bolt hit the ground, Sam hoped Dean was still alive.

After another half hour of blind searching, Sam wouldn't have minded being struck by the bolt. He felt as if he failed, the feeling heightened by the fact that he was now the one who should've protected Dean.

His clothes were soaked through and Sam stopped in the middle of the familiar clearing. Heavy raindrops were hitting his skin with painful force, but he didn't mind. He just stood there, his eyes falling on the new grave that they had made just a day ago.

He didn't know what to do. Sinking down to his knees, Sam grasped the grass and with a frustrated growl pulled at it. Blinking the water out of his eyes, Sam panted on the wet ground, his knees boring into the mud. If he thought it would help, he would've started praying.

The seconds turned into minutes, and Sam was breathing hard, trying to calm down. He couldn't panic, he reminded himself, and he continued saying it out loud like a mantra. Panic never helped. But God, it was hard not to. Before, there was always Dean to help him, to keep him going, however scared he was. Now he needed to protect his brother, the smart-ass older brother that looked like a nine year old kid. And he had failed.

Sam gave himself another minute to wallow in self-pity, before he slowly rose to his feet.

Had it been Dean in his current position, Sam knew he would've already had a plan, probably involving lots of guns and risk. Sam had nothing. He could return to the Impala and get all the guns needed, but what then?
Shooting the ghost didn't help before. Maybe a binding spell and rock salt would do, though Sam had a feeling that this wasn't an ordinary ghost, not to mention he didn't have a clue where the body could be. He definitely needed to do more research and dig through his father's journal.

The worst part of that idea was that that would take time and Sam wasn't sure Dean had it in the first place.

Sam shook his head, spraying the water all around like a wet dog. He didn't mind. The rain was starting to ease off and he found the path he was looking for. Maybe Susan Stockhart would have the answers he needed. He was sure she knew more than what she had told them, but until now, Sam hadn't been as desperate to get the information. Now he would do anything to find Dean.

Feeling a little better to have a plan, Sam headed for the cabin. He didn't make it further than a few yards, when his phone started ringing. Startled at the sound, it took him a second to realise what the noise meant. Hope mixing with anticipation, he grabbed for the cell. His hand slipped on the cover as he fumbled to open it. He frowned at the strange caller's ID, but didn't think about it. There was only one thing he wanted to know and for the first time in the last few months, it wasn't anything to do with their father's well being.

''Dean?'' Sam asked, unable to contain his hope. .

x

It was easier than he thought. Dean very quickly realised that Hannings was scared of the storm. Logically, Dean doubted that a storm could hurt Hannings, but sometimes it was more about the perception than the reality. He knew he needed to act, before the storm ended, or before Hannings took him to the mines. He still couldn't wiggle out of the ghost's clutches and silently cursed, wondering just how something so incorporeal could have such a physical effect.

When another lightning bolt hit a little too close even for Dean's liking, Hannings screamed and sped up. Dean set his plan in motion.

''Let me down! Let me down! You're too slow, it will hit us!'' Dean shouted using his full lung capacity and all the hysterics of a nine-year-old child. ''Let me down!''

As if Mother Nature herself was trying to help him, another lightning bolt struck a tree ahead of them, setting it on fire. Both Dean and Hannings screamed, this time in real fright. Dean felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as the static electricity burned the air around them. Hannings stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide open in terror. Until now, Dean didn't know a ghost could be paralysed from fear, but Hannings was frozen in place, unmoving. His grip on Dean loosened and Dean surely wasn't the one to question his luck.

He quickly wriggled out, grunting when he landed on his shoulder, but almost instantly he was back on his feet. The world spun around and he fought the blackness, as the blood rushed from his head. Swaying, he still took few steps away from Hannings, who didn't seem to notice his absence; instead he was watching the tree. The fire was being doused by the rain and Dean knew the spectre would realise he was gone soon. Maybe a few seconds at most. As steadily as he could, he started running, turning to the left rather than where they came from. He would have to find Sammy, but his priority was to get rid of Hannings.

''Hey! Come back you little shit!'' resounded through the forest and Dean winced, ducking the bough that was waving in the wind. He didn't realise the weather had turned so bad, but then, he didn't really mind. It gave him a better chance to escape.

It was a dense forest, full of bushes and Dean was soon scratched, but it didn't slow him down. He heard the angry shouts behind him, interrupted by the occasional thunderclap. Every time the lightning hit, he felt that Hannings was falling further behind and couldn't help but grin. Even if the scratches burned and he was dripping wet, he felt a small victory when the last of the shouts died away. Five minutes, he was running for five minutes, stumbling and ducking trees, gasping for breath and feeling as cold as ever. The sky was still dark, but the storm was moving away. He wasn't sure if he should be happy or afraid. Hannings was still somewhere behind him.

Finally, when his lungs couldn't handle it anymore and his knees buckled, Dean stopped. Panting hard, he wearily moved his hand to wipe the water from his eyes and turned his head, listening. The only sound was the raindrops hitting the leaves of the trees and the sound was subsiding. Dean swallowed and looked up at the sky, realising that the rain was stopping. He listened like a guard dog, feeling that warning tightness in his stomach. His eyes lit up when he caught the sound of a car, right ahead of him. There should be a road. He mustered all his strength and stood up, using his father's training as well as the desperate need to get away, to be safe and find his brother.

He could already see the tarmac of the road maybe fifty yards ahead. Feeling slightly relieved, he didn't notice the figure nearing him from the right. It was more of a reflex than real thinking that forced him to turn and look.

''Like I said, you can't escape,'' the words were delivered with an evil smile, one that made Dean's stomach churn.

Spinning around, Dean started for the road as if his life depended on it. And maybe it did. He almost made it. Almost. But something grabbed his shirt, raising him in the air, then with an uncanny force throwing him away. He didn't even realise he hit the ground until he saw the two lights coming at him with alarming speed. Dean blinked, scrambling to his feet. Only then did he notice that he was standing on the road. He heard the engine of the car and the blaring of the horn before one of the lights connected with his side and sent him to the darkness.

To be continued

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