Thanks to Andrea for her help with the story. She found some mistakes and helped me correct them, which I am really grateful for. Where would I be without a beta? Uhm, also thanks to princesspeanut, who was the only one reviewing. If not for her, there probably wouldn't be any new chapter, because it's hard to write when nobody's reading.

Brother's Role

by Nicol Leoraine

Chapter 11

''Stay in the car,'' Sam ordered as soon as he turned off the engine and Dean blinked in surprise, his hand already on the door.

''What? Why?'' he asked, annoyed.

''Because there's no way they'll tell me what happened if I take you there with me. You still look as if someone beat the crap out of you. The last thing I need is them thinking it was me, so stay put and I'll try to find out what happened to the sheriff.''

''Just great,'' Dean shook his head as Sam got out of the car. He was about to open his door and at least take a look around the parking lot, stretch his legs maybe, when Sam's head peeked back in.

''Don't leave the car Dean. I mean it. Patrick was snatched on the road. You don't know where Hannings is right now.''

''Dude, chill out! There's at least half of the town assembled here. What can happen?'' The only answer he got was a pair of raised eyebrows and a resolute 'Stay inside!' before Sam retreated to the crowd.

''Stay, sit, what the hell am I, a dog?'' he shook his head in frustration. How did it come to Sam giving out orders? And just why the hell wasn't it Sam who turned nine, instead of Dean? It would have been a hell of a lot easier.

But noooooo, the spell fell on him and Dean sighed, remembering the conversation they had with Susan Stockhart just before Hannings attacked him.

''Why?'' Dean asked for the fifth time and still doubted he would get the answer. It was as if the woman was doing everything to turn the conversation somewhere else.

''I told you, the spell was made specially for Hannings. My sister was a white witch, she couldn't cause any harm, not even to an evil person like Hannings. But she knew that someone would come and release the spirits of the family, thus also allowing Hannings to surface.''

''Yeah, we already know that,'' Dean grumbled. ''I know that I need to be the bait, and that Hannings will only go after children, whatever sick reason he has for that. I understand. But why me? Why not Sam or someone else? You know, those bones could've been found by anyone. They could've been simply buried without being salted and burned, and the family would've haunted this place forever. Did it even occur to your sister what would've happened?''

''But it didn't, did it? I'm sure my sister knew there will be someone who knew what to do. But you're right about one thing. It could've easily been your brother turning into a kid.''

''What?'' This time it was Sam who asked the question indignantly, and Dean wondered what that meant.

''Well, you were there just like Dean. But the spell chose him." At that moment Susan frowned, as if thinking about it. ''There must've been something...'' and she looked at Dean as if trying to see right into his heart. He squirmed a little and looked away.

''I think something happened to you in the not so distant past, something that made you feel insecure. The spell my sister cast was a powerful one. It could've easily latched onto that feeling and choose you to be the one.''

''That's bullshit,'' Dean bit back a little harshly, as if she was accusing him of some wrongdoing. ''I was doing just fine before your sister's spell backfired.'' And for a second he even believed it himself but one look at Sam and he could see the spark of guilt in his eyes, the downcast look. If Amely Stockhart hadn't been already dead, he would've made sure to burn her remains now.

''It doesn't matter anyway,'' he grumbled trying to steer the conversation back to Hannings. ''What's important is to send this bastard to hell before I have to relive my puberty. Any idea how we do that?''

xxx

Dean looked out of the window, his eyes searching for Sam. He saw him talking with a young cop, one he remembered seeing at the sheriff's office few days ago. They were a little distance from the crowd, but there were still a few people in earshot and judging by the look on their faces, they were listening quite carefully. With a faint grin, Dean opened the door and left the car. He would be damned if he'd let his kid brother boss him around no matter what the circumstances.

Seeing as Sam didn't need his help in the matter, Dean headed away from the crowd, down the parking lot. There was a playground but it was rather empty. Even though most of the kids were in the school, Dean still thought it weird. But then, Crystle Town was a small place and probably everyone knew that the Sheriff didn't die a natural death. Keeping their kids inside was a safe thing to do.

Dean walked slowly to a bench, his eyes trailing to his brother who was still talking with the cop, though they had already moved out of earshot, to the obvious dismay of the crowd. Sighing, Dean sat down, grimacing as the movement pulled at his tender side, reminding him of the rest of the bruises. He hoped that Sam would finish soon with some much needed insight on the case, so they could finish it and get back to normal. Dean snorted at that and turned, when he saw a movement from his right.

''Hey,'' a fair haired boy uttered shyly.

''Hey,'' Dean replied, unsure. He usually wasn't afraid of kids, but being one made him a slightly more nervous person. Probably because the kids anticipated him to act like them, while Dean had trouble acting like a kid even when he really was nine years old. Seeing the things he saw usually did that to a person.

''I'm Dean.'' Well, starting with your name was always the best option, whether it was false or real.

''Is that blood?'' the boy asked, and pointed at the stain on his shirt. Dean grimaced.

''Nah, just ketchup.''

''So what happened to your face?'' the boy kept up the questions, sitting next to Dean. He looked oblivious to the crowd standing before the sheriff's office. Maybe he was just used to the commotion, after all, the town had had its fair share of weird excitement with ghosts and things in the last months.

''I was in an accident,'' Dean said and frowned when he saw the knowing look on the boys face. As if he was in on some secret. But it wasn't a happy face, and Dean had to ask.

''What?''

''Accident, huh? And just what did you screw up to get in one?''

Dean opened his mouth in surprise, wanting to ask what the hell he meant, when the boy turned his head and he noticed a bruise on his cheek. It was already fading, but he could still see the typical prints left by a slap. Gritting his teeth, Dean realised what the boy was talking about and fought hard to contain his fury.

''I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,'' he muttered, not really agreeing, but the boy nodded, taking it as an answer. ''What about you?'' Dean couldn't stop himself from asking.

''I missed a shot.''

''Huh?''

''We were out hunting. There was a beautiful doe, drinking from the stream. She didn't know we were there. I had a clear shot…he told me to kill her…but there was a fawn next to her. It was too young to survive without its mother, so I missed. They were startled by the shot and ran away and he got mad.''

The kid spoke about it calmly, as if it was an everyday occurrence, but Dean could feel his blood boiling. He knew what it was to go out hunting at that young age. How hard it was to pull the trigger when you knew the bullet would kill. He still remembered the hunting trip with his father and Sam, the one where they weren't hunting anything supernatural. John was teaching him how to shoot the rifle at moving objects, but it was mostly rabbits or ducks. They encountered a deer once, but John just watched the animal through the sight. When the deer vanished in the bushes and Dean asked why he didn't shoot, John looked down at his son.

'We hunt things that come from the dark. This creature is not one of them.''

Dean hadn't understood it then and he wasn't sure he understood it now. After all, they had killed dozen of rabbits and ducks that summer. What he did understand was that John had never hit either of his children, even if they gave him a reason. There were other things that worked far better…like giving them his 'disappointed' glare. That sure worked on Dean every time.

''Who is he?'' Dean asked, even though he could guess the reply. The boy just looked at him with raised eyebrows, as if wondering if they were really on the same wave-length. Seeing the sudden wariness, Dean squirmed. He was about to say something, to break the silence, when the boy spoke, his voice clipped.

''My father. Why? Who hurt you?''

''I told you, it was an accident,'' Dean muttered and was surprised by the laughter.

''Yeah, aren't they all?'' the boy said, the sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Dean didn't know how to react. He wanted to get the guy hurting his son and beat the crap out of him, get him put behind bars in jail, whatever, just to stop the abuse. But he was also aware of the pressing matter he and Sam needed to resolve. Not to mention that they weren't used to dealing with 'real life' problems like this one. Still, he had to do something.

Shooting a glance toward the crowd, Dean frowned when he didn't manage to locate Sam. He was still looking at the parking lot, when a soft gasp made him turn.

''What?'' he asked with concern, when he saw the ghostly pale face with the wide eyes staring at someone in the crowd.

''H-he found me!'' the boy's voice had risen about an octave and Dean could see the shivers coursing through his body. This was far beyond just getting few slaps, he thought with rage. The boy was terrified. ''Run!'' he cried out just as Dean reached out and tried to pull him closer to himself. His fingers missed the boy's arm by mere inches when he turned and started running.

''Damn it!'' Dean swore when he realised just where the boy was headed. ''No! Come back!'' he shouted but the boy was already tearing through the bushes, unheeding of the warning. Dean threw a look behind, and didn't see anyone chasing after him. But he knew the threat didn't come from behind. It came from the forest. Whatever the boy was running from, it couldn't be as bad as falling into Hannings hands. With another curse, Dean realised that none of the bystanders seemed to notice the panicked retreat and Sam was still nowhere to be seen. Making his choice, Dean took off after the boy.

xxx

Sam was taking his time to return to Dean, mostly because he wasn't sure what to tell his brother. He had managed to get the information out of the sheriff's deputy, when he introduced himself as a big city journalist working on a hot story about the mysterious happenings around the town The kid was spilling out facts even before Sam pulled out his notes.

''So can you tell me what happened, deputy...''

''Roger Ginger,'' the cop eagerly supplied. ''With a G.''

''Mr. Ginger, what happened?''

''Roger please,'' he said quickly and Sam pushed back the urge to roll his eyes. ''Umm, you know I shouldn't even be telling this to you, the investigation is still going on, you know. But you won't publish the story until we've solved it, right?"

''Yeah, don't worry. I'm still working on it, but I want to submit a complete story, not bits and pieces, so it's ok, you can talk,'' Sam assured the deputy.

Letting out a sigh, the deputy looked around and pulled him a little to the side. Not totally out of earshot, but the slight wind and the chattering around them was enough to interfere with anyone trying to listen to them.

''Well you see, we had this problem…there's supposed to be some ghosts in the forest,'' he started, then startled a little as he realised what he said. ''Umm, not that I believe in ghosts or anything, we just don't know who's the culprit.''

''Yes, I already heard about it. What happened to the sheriff?'' Sam pushed, wanting to get to the core of the thing, before some of the other cops that were milling around could interfere.

''A few days ago we got some call that there was another disturbance in the forest, near one of the old cabins. We got there and found traces of a fire, but there was no real damage. I don't know what made the sheriff return to the place, especially after it got dark. There were some notes on his desk, old files concerning this guy named Joe Hannings. He used to own this cabin up there. Anyway, I think the Sheriff wanted to check out the guys cabin again. Dunno why. To my knowledge, the guy is long dead and the cabin was searched with dogs…nothing new to find. It was already late and I left for home. The sheriff stayed. When I returned to work the next morning, the sheriff wasn't there. He wasn't at home either. He just left a note that he had to check out something in one of the cabins. When he didn't return for the scheduled meeting, I called some backup and we started the search. We found him on the same place where that fire was two days ago.''

''How did he die?'' Sam asked, getting impatient. He was getting nervous and he tried to catch a glimpse of his brother, but the view of the Impala was obscured by the parked police car. Little did he know he should've looked somewhere else.

''Broken neck,'' the deputy supplied with a disbelieving grunt, then grimaced. ''We found him lying under one of the trees, his neck at a really weird angle. No signs of a fight. He had his gun in the holster. Nothing was missing.''

''So uh, what do you think happened to him?''

''Who knows? He could've fell from the tree, for all I know. The coroner will tell us more, hopefully.''

''Was there anything strange on the scene?'' Sam pressed, but instead of answering him, the deputy frowned, belatedly casting a suspicious eye on Sam. Suddenly remembering that although he was a reporter, he was also a stranger, and that some details of the scene should probably be kept away from the press, the deputy became hesitant in replying.

Seeing Ginger's reluctance to continue, Sam quickly thought of a way to get him talking again. "I'll be wanting to get your photo for the article you know, and it'll look really good under a headline of 'Deputy Ginger solves Murder and Mayhem Mystery'," He spread his hands in the usual gesture of a headline, and watched as the deputy's eyes lit up with imagined fame. 'For Pete's sake,' Sam thought, 'this guy is just sooooo gullible, I feel guilty making the motor-mouth believe this bullshit'.

'I really need all the facts you know, otherwise the article might not be printed…come on, there must've been something. You wouldn't call the whole Pendleton police force if your sheriff simply fell from the tree,'' Sam pressed, seeing the doubt fading. He knew there was something, he saw it on the cop's face. That excited glint in his eyes. And he knew he would tell him.

''Maybe it didn't have anything to do with the Sheriff,'' Roger Ginger started, unconsciously scratching his chin. Sam nodded, urging him to speak.

''But we found a note scratched into the tree, just above the Sheriff's head. It looked fresh.''

''What note?'' Sam asked, his eyes getting wider.

''It said only 'I am waiting.' Nothing more.''

That was five minutes ago and Sam quickly excused himself. Even if the note was simple, he knew what it meant, and he was afraid that Dean would know it too. But he couldn't keep that kind of information from him – not when Hannings could easily take another victimHe knew Dean wouldn't be happy to know that the day of rest they took cost someone's life, but he had to tell him. The only question was what would happen afterwards. But all these questions were pushed back with a new, more urgent one when Sam finally reached the Impala.

''Dean! Where the hell are you?''

xxx

Returning to consciousness was never his favourite thing, not when he left it in such a sudden and painful way. He remembered running, or at least trying to, as his battered body didn't allow him to move very fast.He knew he was shouting after the boy to stop, but he didn't listen and Dean realised with panic that they were heading deeper into the forest, away from the road and from Sam. Even though Hannings cabin was several miles away and probably not exactly in this direction, he knew that didn't mean they were out of harm's way. He couldn't hear the activity from the parking lot anymore and he knew that sooner or later he would have to stop.

There was no chance in catching up with the boy, not when every step he took made him cringe, and his hand was already clutching his side with more force than was good for it. The spiking pain of a stitch added it's protest to the growing pain in his side, the bruised kidney started to throb in time with his heartbeat, and every bruise he had was warring with the pain his side was giving him.

By the time he definitely lost the boy from his sight, he was panting heavily and was about ready to collapse. He never even heard the approach of the enemy, only felt the familiar coldness envelop him, pushing the pain back, along with his consciousness.

It could've been ten minutes or ten days ago. Now he was half laying half leaning against something hard and uncomfortably cold. He slowly opened his eyes, but saw only darkness. Swallowing hard, Dean tried to contain his fear. He knew he had to concentrate and get away. Making a quick internal check, he realised that he hadn't gained any other injuries,though he doubted his old ones would thank him for the earlier activity. Trying to move, he pushed back the groan that threatened to come. Yep, his knee and his side were definitely worse. On the plus side though, Dean realised his hands weren't tied up and even though in pain, he could move around freely.

With a deep sigh, he decided to rest a minute before trying to get up on his feet. Listening, he tried to find out more about his surroundings. His hand brushed against the wall he was leaning on, and he was surprised to find it a little rough. Frowning, he pulled the hand back and experimentally licked his finger. Yep, it was salt all right. That could mean only one thing. He was in the mines. But why? And where was Hannings?

It was time to get up. Slowly, he managed to stand, fighting off the sudden nausea that the movement caused. It wasn't easy as he couldn't see anything , and his balance was off. He stood still for a moment, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, concentrating on his roiling stomach and telling it to settle down. After a minute, Dean sucked in a breath and took a step. The echo was surprisingly loud and he almost jumped out of his skin when it was followed by a clang. Dean froze.

''Who's there?'' he asked and though he was prepared for the echo, it still surprised him.

''D-dean?'' a small, scared voice called out and Dean realised it was the boy.

''Seems like he got us both,'' he mumbled, then cringed as his own words were thrown back at him.

''I'm sorry. I thought I could loose him in the bushes. It always worked before. I didn't want to get you into trouble too.''

''Hey, kiddo, it's okay. Can get into trouble all by myself,'' Dean chuckled. ''Are you okay?''

''Yeah,'' came the sniffled reply and the sounds of shuffling.

''Do you know where we are?''

''The mines,'' he said quietly.

''Do you remember what happened?''

''He caught us. That's all.''

''Right,'' Dean groaned and tried to find out where the kid was.

''Hey, can you keep talking so I can find you?''

''What do you want to talk about?''

''Well, for a start it would be good to know your name,'' Dean said with a grunt as he stumbled over his own feet. ''Hey, you okay?'' he asked in concern when there was only silence.

''Yeah. I was just thinking. Do you think we will get out of here before he returns?"

''I will sure as hell try, kid.''

The boy chuckled. ''You know, I think I'm older than you. Why don't you stop calling me 'kid'?''

''Sure, as soon as I know what to call you,'' Dean replied, his hand trailing the wall for support.

''You can call me Calum.''

Dean's hand froze and he couldn't help the gasp that escaped him. But any reply he could've made was stopped when a teasing voice boomed through the mines.

''Where is my boy?''

TO BE CONTINUED

Next chapter should be the last. I'm still working on it, so it's up to you how soon it will come;-)