Chapter 5

Dean went back to pacing, bringing his hands to his face, and rubbing his eyes, hoping silently that when he pulled them away, Sam wouldn't be standing there, face red, fist clenched, ready to jump him if he decided the situation demanded the action. Dean stifled a laugh when he threw a sideways glance in Sam's direction and realized he'd never been that lucky.

"Quit stalling, dammit, and tell me!" Sam's voice was now at a forceful scream. Screw the crappy motel and its thin walls, the whole planet could hear him and he couldn't have cared less. He was going to get the truth from Dean if he had to beat it out of him because the more Dean paced, the more Sam worried.

But Dean didn't answer. Instead, he turned his back to Sam and made his way back over to the bed muttering something to the extent of after he had a nap maybe. Sam's body connected with his about midway, the force of his movements throwing Dean's body loudly to the floor. Dean attempted to push himself off the floor, but Sam shifted bringing his knee down hard into Dean's back and twisted his arm behind him.

Dean smirked at his little brother's carelessness and maneuvered his other arm up, smacking Sam on the side of the head. One second of hesitation was all Dean needed to get the upper hand. Within moments, Sam's sprawled form met the coarse carpet.

"College only made you more stupid. Didn't it, Sammy?" Dean taunted haughtily as he sought to push Sam's head further into the carpet, his little brother yelping as the metal glasses bore into his skin.

"It's Sam!" The younger brother yelled, as he twisted his long legs furiously trying to connect with anything on his brother's body. The pained cry and released grip on his head proved he had.

Dean stumbled back falling on his haunches, breathing heavily. Sam was no longer the little 12 year old he could beat the crap out of in all of about 5 minutes. He was a true fighter now and this wasn't going to be easy. Catching his breath, he lunged at Sam's semi-upright form aiming expertly at his knees, crashing Sam into the wall.

The jarring motion jolted Sam's glasses from his head, sending them flying God knows where. He swung his arms frantically at his brother's now blurry form, getting as many good hits in as he could, but knowing that all his efforts were futile. He couldn't see a thing, and Dean knew it.

Dean laughed as he got up and gave Sam a final push on the shoulders, a little more lightly this time, nudging him back into the wall once again before settling comfortably down on the bed with a face that radiated victory, to watch Sam search angrily for his prized glasses. Dean knew it was low, but it had worked. And judging by the way his little brother had glared at him, he had a feeling it was the only way he could've beat him. Not that he would ever give Sam the satisfaction of knowing that.

Throwing one last look towards his brother, Dean shifted the lumpy pillows under his head, fingering the knife beneath, before allowing his eyes to close and drifting off to a deep, much-needed sleep. The steadiness of Sam's defeated heavy breathing as he slammed things against the coffee table and hammered the computer keys with tense fingers were the only sounds accompanying his slumber.

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Sam rubbed his temples. His head was killing him. He'd done nothing but continuous research for the past three hours while Dean just slept. Sam was mad earlier, he was way past angry now. He heard Dean shift and peeled his eyes away from the screen in time to see his brother, hair askew, blinking repeatedly as he tried to focus and reorient himself.

"I think I may have got something." Sam stated nonchalantly trying to sound as calm as possible, as he watched his brother rise. Last thing he needed was another fight, especially if Dean was hell-bent on playing dirty.

"Huh?" Dean grunted, wiping his face with his hand and he moved towards the coffee table, grabbing the chair next to Sam and dropping into it. Silently thanking the powers above that Sam seemed to have dropped the whole "what date did you pick" issue.

"About Kingston. You know the psyco teacher. The reason we're here." Sam condescended rather angrily.

"Dude, I'm not an idiot" Dean shot back quickly, biting his tongue as he tried to keep his anger in check.

"Could've fooled me." Sam muttered making sure the comment was loud enough for Dean to hear. He saw Dean clench the arms of his chair and quickly continued to silence his brother's attempt for a comeback or sudden act of violence. "I think he'd either a mortal demon or possessed."

"Why?" Dean questioned, releasing his grip on the chair and shifted slightly, making a conscious effort to look Sam in the eyes, but his gaze was averted slightly when he noticed the small cuts adorning his little brother's face around the eye line. Oh God. I did that.

"Well, first off, he committed suicide, right? But he was already dying so maybe the act was necessary for the possession. Like conformation that the demon was in full control. It's happened" Sam offered before turning his head back to the computer screen.

"Okay. So answer me this, geek boy. How is he killing these people then? I mean, don't most demons, low-level ones anyway, risk being sent back to Hell if they actually kill a human." Dean's skepticism more than evident in his sharp reply

"Well, uh…" Sam started slowly processing Dean's questions, "Technically, the demon isn't killing the students. Kingston is."

"But Kingston's dead, Sam."

"Well, not really. I mean, he is, but he isn't. The demon is sort of keeping him alive. I don't know how to say it, but it works. I mean, obviously it works, cause he's getting away with it." Sam ran his fingers through his shaggy hair as he yielded his response.

"But why pick the students? If he can use Kingston's body, why not kill someone more important?" Dean asked pensively.

"Some demons get a kick out of finding what people's darkest fears and secrets are and exploiting them. Dying is a fear a lot of people have." Sam replied quietly.

"Okay, yeah. I'll bite. Now how do we kill this thing?" Dean questioned, an apparent urgency in his voice that Sam didn't fail to note.

"I don't know." Sam responded softly, shrugging his shoulders.

"You don't know." Dean muttered quite annoyed, but his voice gained strength as an idea came to him. "You think we could salt and burn Kingston's bones and exorcise the demon? I'm thinking that's the only option we got if the Kingston is really only half dead, or whatever."

"Worth a shot."

"Yeah." Dean murmured, as he ravaged through his pack for his M&Ms.

"Dean?" Sam bit his lower lip as he waited for his older brother to face him once again.

"Hmm." The reply came from a mouthful of peanut M&Ms and Sam smirked slightly upon viewing his brother's chocolate filled smile.

"You never answered my question." Sam stated sullenly. He hated it when he knew Dean was keeping things from him.

"Ah, c'mon, Sammy." Dean replied pleadingly. For once in your life, let the issue go. Just let it go.

"You always make me tell you everything. Least you can do is fill me in every once in a while." Sam chided.

"Fine, since you'll never drop it." Dean conceded "What do you want to know?"

"The date, Dean. What date did you pick? God, you are annoying."

"The whole date? Or just like the month? Or do you want month and day? Or just the year?" Dean teased, popping the candy into his mouth after each question. All it took was Sam rising for his seat, for Dean to get it through his thick skull that his little brother was not in the mood to play around.

"Alright, alright." Dean laughed "April 10th, okay? Happy now?"

"Why April?" the question flew out of Sam's mouth before the thought even had registered in his brain. But his curiosity always got the better of him.

"The weather's nice." Dean replied with a smile, throwing his empty yellow bag into the trash and grabbed his keys and jacket from the table. "So, now that you know, you can do some serious research. C'mon college boy, I'm taking you to the library. We need to find out where Kingston was buried and anything else we can dig up."

"Yeah, okay. Gimme just one sec." Sam hustled to grab his jacket, turn off his computer, and retrieve their father's journal. He approached the threshold and could see his brother already waiting for him, leaning against the hood of the car.

It was then Sam had an epiphany of sorts. His brother was as sly as they came, and he'd let him hustle him, just as Dean had done, when he was little. Sam could've kicked himself for being so stupid, but worry soon became his prevalent emotion as the question left his lips.

"What year, Dean? You didn't tell me what year." Dean let out a sharp breath. Sam was entirely sure his heart stopped completely as he heard his brother's reply.

"2006, Sam. I picked 2006."

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alright, there you have it. Not my best work, but i needed to cover some things, especially concerning Kingston so lemme know what you think, and i'll try to update soon.