Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and WB. I'm just borrowing the characters to play with for a while!

Set after Asylum (I'm pretending their father didn't call at the end of the episode!) and set before Scarecrow. Enjoy!

Thank you for all the lovely reviews - they are very very much appreciated.

BROTHERS

by Eryn Grant

CHAPTER FOUR
Rescue and Nightmares

Dread filled him as Sam peered over the edge half expecting to see Dean lying broken at the bottom of the cliff. Relief replaced the dread flooding through him as he saw Dean hanging by one hand from a tree root sticking out of the cliff-side. He was swinging his body gently desperately trying to grab hold of the root with his other hand.

"Are you OK?" Sam shouted.

"Do I look like I'm OK," Dean looked up at Sam.

Sam knew that Dean's sarcasm was borne out of fear so he bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue. "Hang on," Sam lay down and eased himself closer to the edge of the cliff. Sam could feel the soil at the edge of the cliff moving as he cautiously sidled forwards. He stopped frozen as part of the edge of the cliff fell away. A shower of dust, soil and stones rained down on Dean.

Dean turned his head away from the shower of stones yelping as some of the sharper stones struck his face. He tightened his grip on the tree root moving his fingers slowly upwards as he tried to get a firmer grip. The muscles in his arm and shoulder screamed in protest. His chest was on fire and he gasped in pain. He grit his teeth against the pain and looked up to Sam. "Some rescue you're pulling off up there little brother," he quipped. He coughed as another shower of dust hit him.

"Dean," Sam shouted. "For once in your life, just shut up. And hang on."

Dean's hand slipped slightly and for the first time in his life he couldn't think of a smart reply. He knew he shouldn't but he looked down and immediately felt light-headed at the dizzying drop below him. He gulped and looked back up towards his brother. "I can't hang on much longer," he croaked. Dean swung his body again trying without success to grab onto the branch with his other hand. He could feel his grip weakening as his fingers and hand became numb. "Sammy," his voiced wavered.

Sam could hear the fear in his brother's voice and he eased himself closer to the edge. Taking a deep breath Sam moved forwards until he hung over the edge digging the toes of his boots into the soft dirt to give himself some sort of anchor against falling.

"Let him fall," a voice popped into his head. "You don't need him. You don't even like him."

Sam shook his head trying to banish the voice from his mind. His head hurt and his eyes wouldn't focus so he moved back from the edge looking around him as he sat up. "No," he whispered to the voice he knew wasn't his. "He's my brother. I love him."

Sam thought he felt a sharp intake of breath. "You think he's pathetic," the whisper in his head continued to taunt him. "You said so."

"No," Sam closed his eyes and rubbed at his temple. "Leave me alone."

"Sammy," Dean's voice broke into his thoughts. Sam could hear the thinly veiled panic in his brother's voice. "Are you still up there?"

Sam shook his head again shutting out the voice and pushing down the pain. His brother needed him. Laying back down he squirmed on his stomach cautiously moving forwards to hang back over the edge. He dug his toes back into the soft dirt. "I'm here Dean," he stretched reaching his hand towards his brother. His finger tips brushed Dean's hand.

"I can't hold on," Dean gasped.

Sam felt Dean's hand slipping on the root away from his grasp and saw the look of terror on Dean's face. "No," he yelled as he made a frantic grab for Dean's hand. Somehow Sam managed to seize Dean's wrist gripping it tightly just as Dean's fingers let go of the root. "I've got you," Sam grimaced as he took the brunt of his brother's weight. "Now don't let go."

"Not planning on it," Dean rasped with a crooked grin. Dean wiggled his fingers until he felt his hand close around Sam's wrist.

Sam drew back slightly in order to get his balance. He dropped his other hand down offering it to his brother. Dean took a deep breath and swung his body towards the cliff-side carefully and brought his other hand up. Sam reached for Dean's hand. The sound of skin against skin seemed to echo around them and Sam blew out the shaky breath he was holding. He curled his hand around Dean's gripping it tightly. He started to wriggle backwards pulling Dean up towards him slowly. When he thought it was safe, Sam drew himself up into a sitting position digging his heels in and pulled with all his strength. Dean's head appeared over the top of the cliff and Sam dragged him to safety. Once Dean was safely back on the road, Sam flopped backwards panting with his efforts.

They lay side by side trying to catch their breath. Dean was panting hard and holding onto his chest rubbing at it absently with one hand.

"You OK Sam?" Dean rolled his head towards his brother.

"I think that's my line," Sam chuckled turning his head towards Dean with a nod. He noticed that Dean was rubbing at his chest. "What about you? Did you hurt your chest?"

Dean raised his eyebrows surprised at the question. He shook his head. "No it's fine. Just a bit sore."

Sam bit at his bottom lip turning away from Dean cursing himself for his forgetfulness. "Sorry," he muttered wondering how he could have forgotten that he had shot his brother in the chest. He rubbed at his head.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong with your head?" he asked as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

"Nothing," Sam lied having decided not to tell Dean about the voice in his head.

Dean regarded his brother for a moment. "So," he decided to change the subject. "You think whatever was here has gone?" he waved his hand in front of them.

Sam struggled into a sitting position. He looked around. "I can't feel it," he said. "Wonder why the EMF didn't pick it up?"

"You got me there," Dean got to his feet. He offered his hand to Sam pulling his brother to his feet. "Thanks by the way. For not letting go," he gave Sam a small smile.

"If I had let you go," Sam grinned at Dean. "You'd have only haunted my ass."

"Damn straight," Dean grinned back. "Let's get back to the motel. We could both do with a shower and good night's sleep."

Sam nodded in agreement following his brother towards the Impala. "Do you think it's safe?" he eyed the car suspiciously.

"She's my baby," Dean ran his hand along the side of the car lovingly. "She knows me."

"Yeah," Sam laughed. "And she just tried to kill you."

"She was probably just having an off day," Dean defended patting the car again.

"Dean," Sam said exasperated.

Dean rolled over looking towards the other bed. He scrubbed at his face trying to focus on his brother. As his vision cleared he could see that Sam was murmuring in his sleep rolling his head from side to side. Sam's mumbling became louder as he sunk further into his nightmare.

Dean was just about to get out of bed when Sam startled him by sitting up with a terrified scream. Untangling himself from the sheets, Dean kicked them onto the floor as he scrambled over to the other bed. "Give me a heart attack why don't you," he muttered to himself as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Sammy," Dean took Sam firmly by the shoulders and shook him gently.

Sam turned his head towards Dean but his eyes were unfocused and staring past Dean. "I killed you," he rasped. "I killed you," his breathing hitched higher and he gasped. Dean could see the tears in Sam's eyes.

"It's OK Sammy," Dean soothed. He could feel his brother trembling and he gently rubbed at Sam's arms trying to calm him down. "You didn't kill me. Everything's OK." Sam grabbed for him holding on tight and Dean could feel Sam's fingers digging into his arms. He flinched slightly but continued to hold Sam whispering soothing words.

Sam's grip on his arms slackened. "Help me," he whimpered as he flopped forwards into Dean's arm. Dean carefully lowered Sam onto the bed. Before he could check on him, Sam rolled over on his side asleep, his breathing deep and even.

"Well that's new," Dean frowned as he pulled the comforter up over Sam. Dean returned to his own bed. Dean lay looking up at the ceiling. He rolled his head to one side. Squinting he could just about make out his brother his deep breathing calming him slightly.

Being with Sam was important to him. He had missed Sam so much when he had left for college and Dean had forgotten what it was like to have Sam with him. He felt less lonely and he admitted to himself that it felt good to feel close to someone again. But he was still afraid and he cursed himself for his cowardice. Dean knew that Sam wanted to talk about the events at the asylum, but he just couldn't bring himself to deal with a guilt-ridden Sam. But now Sam was suffering because of his stubbornness and that was even harder to bear. Dean sighed and rolled onto his back again. He vowed to himself that he would bring the subject up tomorrow. Dean shivered at the thought and pulled the comforter up higher willing sleep to come.

Dean woke to the smell of coffee. He looked sideways to see a mug, steam rising, on the bedside table. He scrubbed at his face and pulled himself up. He grabbed the mug and took a quick sip. The hot liquid hit the back of his throat rousing him slightly.

Sam was sitting at the table laptop open in front of him. "Morning," he said over his shoulder.

"How long have you been up?" Dean asked struggling into a sitting position.

"About an hour," Sam replied.

"Did you sleep OK?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam turned to look at his brother. "Why?"

"No reason," Dean lied. He frowned. Sam always remembered his nightmares and he sensed that Sam wasn't lying to him this time. Dean couldn't help feeling a little worried that his brother didn't seem to remember last night. Dean felt a guilty relief run through him knowing that, despite his promise to himself, he could safely put off the planned conversation. He knew, deep down, that he was just putting off the inevitable - Sam wouldn't let it go.

Sam stared at his brother nearly missing the look of worry that flickered across his brother's face. It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared so Sam decided to ignore it for now. "I'm just doing some more research on Lake Road," he said.

"Find anything interesting?" Dean got out of bed and wandered across to stand behind Sam.

"Funny you should ask that," Sam grinned up at his brother. "I have been checking the local records on the deaths up on Lake Road. Since the late fifties. Not including David and Steven. There have been ten."

Dean nodded. "And?"

"Most of the deaths have been car accidents. But some are just……. well unexplained. The last two deaths. The ones Hannah told us about. Were a Peter and Alan Johnson. But get this," he restored a screen he had minimised. "I checked the local police records. And they were the grandsons of the only witness to David's death, Paul Johnson."

"Interesting," Dean nodded taking another sip of his coffee. "That could be something."

"I thought so," Sam said. "But then I checked the police records. The other people who died have no connection to either of the brothers. So I'm thinking it must be something else."

"OK," Dean agreed. "But what?"

"Well," Sam said. "The only connection I can find amongst the victims is that everyone who has died up there is related to each other somehow. You know……. like brothers, or brother and cousin or brother and father."

"So," Dean slumped down on the edge of the bed. "How many ghosts do you think we're dealing with up there?"

Sam thought for a moment thinking about the voice in his head. "One definitely."

"I think it might have something to with the Impala," Dean muttered.

"What makes you say that?" Sam turned towards his brother.

"I don't know," Dean snapped. "I just do."

"What," Sam said. "Because it talked to you?"

"No. It's just a feeling," Dean glared angrily. "You don't have the monopoly on weird feelings."

"OK," Sam scowled at Dean not convinced by his brother's thinking. "But Dean why is he killing people that are related? It doesn't make any sense."

Dean took another sip of coffee. "Beats the hell outta me," he put his mug to one side. "But you know as well as I do that spirits do weird ass stuff for all kinds of weird ass reasons."

Sam nodded in agreement. "So all we have to do is figure out why and what before anyone else gets killed." He gave a frustrated sigh.

"Any ideas?" Dean asked.

Sam bit at his lower lip knowing that Dean would hate his suggestion. He took a deep breath. "I think we need to have a talk with Frank."

"No," Dean exploded jumping to his feet.

"But Dean," Sam said calmly. "I think he knows more than he's letting on."

Dean whirled on Sam. "No. We... I promised Hannah. And I like Frank. So no," he said determined.

"But...," Sam continued to protest.

"What part of no don't you understand?" Dean yelled.

"Dean," Sam said. "He may not know it but I think Frank can help us. You said yourself it has something to do with the car." Dean started to pace up and down the room. "And if you are right," Sam continued. "It's all connected. The car. Steven and David. Everything."

"Maybe," Dean blew out a breath.

Sam caught the look on Dean's face. "So you think Frank can help us too?"

"We're not talking to him," Dean replied. "And that's final."

"Fine," Sam turned his back on Dean and began angrily tapping at the keys of the laptop. He could feel his frustration rising but he took a couple of calming breaths. Sam agreed with Dean about Frank but hell would freeze over first before he admitted it.

Dean continued his angry pacing for a few minutes. He started counting in his head trying to calm himself. "OK. So how do we get rid of these spirits? We've got no bones to burn? So what does that leave us?"

Sam turned back to Dean. "Well I have an idea," he said. "Got a couple of things from Dad's journal," he pulled the book towards him turning to the page he had marked. "It says here that we can use these verses, throw some herbs and stuff," he pointed to his father's scrawl. "There's a list here. And it's as good as burning bones in some cases."

"OK," Dean nodded. "What's the other thing? You said a couple."

Sam took a deep breath before continuing. "It says to burn everything connected with the spirits. I doubt from what Hannah said that Steven and David had much. But I think we definitely need to burn the Impala."

"What?" Dean exploded again. "No. It's... it's," he stuttered. "Are you sure?"

Sam nearly laughed at the look on Dean's face but managed to stifle his giggles. "Says so here," he tapped on the page of his father's journal. "It belonged to them so it has to go."

Dean cocked his head to one side and threw his hands up. "Really?" he asked miserably. Sam nodded. "What about Frank?" Dean asked. "He loves that car. It'll kill him. I can't do that to him," he continued his pacing and Sam thought his brother was in danger of wearing a hole in the carpet.

Sam thought for a moment. "Then we'll have to steal it, drive it somewhere and then burn it. It might be easier on him if he thinks the car was stolen."

"What a bitch," Dean slumped down on the bed. "This really sucks," he scraped his hand through his hair.

"Look," Sam offered. "I'll do the car. You go up to Lake Road and do the verses and throw the herb concoction."

Dean looked up at Sam tempted by the offer. "No," he shook his head in resignation. "I'll handle the car. I owe Frank that much."

"OK," Sam conceded. "I'll drop you off. Pick up the stuff I need and then head up to Lake Road."

"This really sucks," Dean repeated as he headed towards the bathroom for a shower.

To be continued...