Hmm... really not much to say before this chapter, save the usual 'thanks for reviewing!'
The black car sped down the highway, leaving Lawrence far behind.

"So, where to now?" Dean asked, breaking a long silence, "and why the hurry? You beat it out of Kansas like your pants were on fire. Care to explain?"

"I found a new job for us. It's on our way, so I figured we could check it out. What do you think?"

"I think you've finally lost it, Sam. Since when do you willingly participate in a hunt? And now? I thought you were freaking out about my 'condition.' What's up?"

Sam sighed, refusing to meet his ghostly brother's eyes. "Haunted house," he explained, "in Nevada. Three little kids have died in the past month. All were found with their stomachs slit open and their fingers cut off."

"Gruesome, but that's not what I'm talking about. What's up with you? All of a sudden you're just a gung-ho monster hunter? I don't believe it. What's going on Sammy?"

"Just a change of heart," Sam replied, shrugging, "thought we could maybe do some good before taking a little time off."

"Time off?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. I've thought hard about it and I'm not going to let you recuperate all by your lonesome. You're going to need someone to be there to wipe up your drool while you try to eat." He grinned.

"Very funny. The house have any history?"

He's avoiding it again, Sam thought to himself before answering. "Meredith Michaels, a skilled seamstress from the 1930s, was raped in that house. The man who did it left her pregnant. She tried to hide it, but in the end gave birth to a little boy. She lived alone in the house and had to deliver the baby herself. It was terribly deformed and died on the spot, as did his mother, who had performed a 30s-style C-Section."

"Ouch. Let me guess: the kid was born without any fingers?"

"Bingo."

"Gotta hand it to you, college boy," Dean smirked, "you did your homework on this one."

Sam just smiled and nodded. With luck, his brother would never know the true meaning behind this hunt. It was a test run. Sammy just wanted to know if his brother was still capable of hunting evil, or if he was just another pesky ghost to be busted by the Winchesters.

"Can I ask you something personal?"

"Uh, I guess," Dean replied slowly, "but I might not answer."

"How can you sit here in the car with me, but you walked right through a table back in my apartment."

"Why was your apartment in Rhode Island?"

"I asked you first," Sam shot back. He'd meant to go back to Stanford, back to his friends, back to the life he'd left so many months before. But something had stopped him. He just hadn't been able to go. Too many memories, so he'd hunted for a place to start again, somewhere far away from Stanford, his father, and Dean.

"Well, I tried to explain it to you, but you ran out to the car. It's only solid if I know it's there. Otherwise, I just walk right on through it. I see the seat, I want to sit in the seat, so it's here. I forgot about the table being there, so I went right through it. Answer your question?"

Sam nodded.

"Good. Now answer mine."

Sammy just sighed. "I needed a change of scenery, Ok?"

"No need to get snippy. Now, about this house, is there anything else I should know?"


Oh, now I remembered somethign to say. About the whole Rhode Island thing. Yeah, so I totally spaced on where Stanford was located while writing the story, and was close to getting done when my friebnd pointed out it's in California. Well, I needed Sam and Dean to go cross-country, so... yeah... anyway, that's my weak explanation for a goof.