Dean burst into the bedroom, stopping short as he saw Sam laying face down next to the nightstand. "Oh God…Sam!" he yelled as he bolted across the room. Falling to his knees, he felt his brother's icy neck for a pulse. When his hand touched Sam's cold skin, Sam breathed in quickly and turned his face to the side. His fright subsided visibly as he saw it was his rescuer, not his unseen assailant kneeling next to him.
"Sam, you ok?"
"Yeah." Sam answered, his voice still a bit weak. He moved himself into a sitting position, looking warily around the room.
"What the hell happened?" Dean asked.
"Um, let's talk about this somewhere else." Sam said. It appeared that whatever had attacked him was gone, but he didn't want to take any chances. Plus, his body was begging for a soothing hot shower and some painkillers.
"Good idea." Dean grabbed Sam by the arm to help him to his feet. At Sam's shout of pain he let go, looking at Sam with wide eyes. "What?"
Sam's eyes were closed as he whispered, "Shoulder."
Dean looked at Sam's shoulder, then noticed the small holes in the plaster behind him. White residue also marred the wall. He bit back the questions that were racing through his mind as he gathered up Sam's gear. "Can you walk?"
"Yeah, I'm good." Sam slowly raised himself to standing position.
Sam faltered a bit as they headed down the stairs. Dean latched onto his good shoulder while he regained his balance.
Sam held up his hand, cutting off Dean's question before it even left his lips. "I'm fine. Let's go."
Dean nodded, but kept his hand firm on Sam's arm. "You wanna let me know the next time you feel like running off to become poltergeist bait, Carol Anne?"
Sam bit his lip. He knew Dean was right. He'd been hunting long enough to know the rules. When investigating the unknown, stick together. Their dad had certainly pounded that into their heads enough. Checking the time, his watch verified what his stomach was trying to tell him: dinnertime!
Sam watched Dean put their gear in the car. "Ok, so why don't you head into town, get us something to eat, and I'll start the research."
Dean looked at Sam above the open trunk. "Yeah, good try. You aren't leaving my sight from now on. Unless you gotta take a leak. In that case, you're on your own."
"And don't even think about arguing." he continued as Sam opened his mouth to protest. "First you get yourself kidnapped by those Deliverance rejects, then you get your ass attacked within an hour of our new gig. I am two seconds away from getting you one of those electric dog collars."
He got in the car, feeling the weight of Sam's glare through the metal of the Impala. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Sam got in and slammed the door. Sam was angry. Well, good, so was Dean. However most of Dean's anger stemmed from fear. Dean's whole life could be summed up in one word: loss. He lost his mother to a horrible fire, lost his childhood to his militant father. In his quest to find his missing father, he had watched his little brother lose that shred of innocence he had left when Jessica died. And tonight was just one of too many times where Sam could have died. No. No more. He'd be damned if he'd lose his little brother, too.
……………………………………………………………………………..
Sam came out of the shower feeling recovered, both mentally and physically. He cleared his throat as Dean sat on his bed reviewing the footage Sam had taken earlier that night.
Dean looked up and grunted. "Steven Spielberg you're not. This is like Blair Witch on rollerblades."
"Uh, Dean…" Sam started. Man, he hated apologizing.
Dean worked to keep his face straight. As much as he loved to see his little brother grovel, he was not in the mood for a touchy-feely moment. "I don't see anything. No orbs, no lights, nothing out of the ordinary."
Sam tried again. "Dean."
"Sam." Dean's voice held a slightly threatening tone. "Here," he softened his voice a bit. "I saved you some fries. I'll never understand how you can eat that crap cold."
Sam accepted the fries, recognizing the peace offering for what it was. Easing against the headboard, Sam got down to business. "So, what do you think we're dealing with?"
"Poltergeist." Dean answered simply.
"You seem pretty certain." Sam said.
Dean set the camcorder down and turned to face Sam. "What else could it be?"
"I'm not doubting you, Dean. It's just, we haven't even checked out the history of the mansion, the family, the land. And let's not forget all of the antiques." Sam said.
Dean pulled the laptop out of its case and tossed it onto Sam's bed. "Sam, Dad and I checked out every conceivable lead last year. The only person who died in the home was Monica Brooks, and we salted and burned her bones. But, please, feel free to waste your time rechecking."
Sam held his hands up. "Easy. I'm not doubting you, I just want to make sure we have all the facts. How did she die, anyway?"
"She walked in on a burglar. It seemed like she fought him off the best she could, but she fell down the main stairs and broke her neck."
"And you're sure you got everything? Remember Hook Man? We thought we'd taken care of him, too, but Lori had that silver chain." Sam stated.
"Yeah, well, I doubt Monica had a hook for a hand. Come on, Sam, you know Dad would never leave if he had any doubts he hadn't finished the job." Dean said.
Sam sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. And there was nothing else? No unmarked graves, cursed objects?"
Dean began to get irritated. "Why are you having such a hard time with this? It has all the markings of a poltergeist."
Sam shook his head, "No, it doesn't. It drained the batteries of the camcorder and my cell phone. The temperature in the room dropped. Draining energy from a room is more consistent with a ghost. And it felt…I don't know, it just felt more like a spirit."
Dean considered the facts. Sam was right, when you added those factors in, it did have the makings of a spirit, but too many others pointed at poltergeist activity. "Why don't you take a look at Dad's journal, see if you can find someway we can banish whatever it is. I'm gonna hit the shower."
Dean turned the water on as hot as it would go, as if the scalding water would somehow melt the nagging doubts running through his mind. He knew exactly what they were dealing with; all of the clues pointed towards a poltergeist. Well, except for the facts Sam brought up. Damn that kid, he did have some valid points. And Dean had learned over the past few months to really trust Sam's judgment. Maybe a little more research wouldn't hurt. Research that Sam would do. If he was so damned determined there was something else going on, he could do the work to find out what it is.
Toweling off his hair, he walked back into the bedroom. "So what'd you find out?" Smiling a little, he walked over to where his brother lay asleep on top of the covers, the journal splayed open on the bed next to his waist. "Or we could just wait til morning." he said softly. It was a bit early to turn in, but with Sam's annoying habit of waking them up at the asscrack of dawn, he figured he'd better get as much sleep as possible. He had a feeling tomorrow was going to be one hell of a day.
