A/N: My apologies to any reviews that went unanswered. Life kinda kicked my ass the last couple of weeks. Which is also why this chapter, this way too short chapter, has taken so long. Please be honest with this what you think. I'm not sure how much I like it anyway. Thanks again for all the positive reviews. I hope to get the end up soon as I am about to move. Don't want to try writing and moving at the same time.

Sam heard his brother slam into the car only seconds before the ghost was upon him, hands wrapped around his throat again. Why is always me they want to strangle?

"You and your brother will finally pay for what you did. And I get it my way."

Sam wanted ask what his way was but the strong grip on his throat kept words in as well as it kept the air out. Scott told him anyway.

"Your brother gets to watch as I squeeze the life out of you. Then I get to finish what I started with his car. He'll die in this car like I did. He'll die knowing he couldn't save his little brother."

No sooner had Scott finished than Sam noticed the other spirit.

It must be Wesley.

He was trying to get his brother to move on. He heard bits of what was going on, worried that Dean hadn't come to help. The only reason he wouldn't be there was if he couldn't. Something was wrong. Dean!

Suddenly there was a bright light and the pressure on his throat disappeared, dropping him suddenly. The unexpected drop drove out what little air was left in his lungs and he fought to stay conscious, to breathe. He needed to know Dean was alright. A few moments and a few small breaths later, he heard the one thing he wanted.

"Sam!" Thank God he's ok! Hearing Dean's uneven gait, he worried again that he might be hurt. Groaning, Sam finally pulled in a full breath, sat up, and watched as his brother stumbled to him. He knew something was wrong, but couldn't think well enough to figure it out. But as usual, Dean was more interested in making sure he was fine.

"Whoa, dude. Don't try to get up yet. Give yourself a few minutes."

"Dean?" He could see he was in pain, the cause still a mystery.

"I'm here. How are you feeling?"

"Like you look. Like crap. How are you?"

"Ha ha. Very funny, Sammy. You don't look so hot yourself there, Francis. I'm fine. Do you think you can get up? We need to get you back to the room."

"Yeah, just give me a minute." He still needed to get more air in his lungs so the world would stop spinning. He watched as Dean collected their gear and stowed it in the car, noticing how slow and painful the process. When Dean came to help him stand, he faltered and tried to lean on Dean for more support. When they both fell back to the ground he knew that Dean's leg was the source of the problem. He did what he always did and got pissed that his brother neglected to mention it.

"Damn it, Dean! You said you were fine."

"I am fine."

"Yeah, I can see that. Which is why we're back in the mud. Want to try for the truth this time?"

"No."

Sam gave him a look that clearly conveyed that he wasn't buying it.

"Fine! I might have landed on my injured leg the last time the ghost tossed me. Happy now?"

"Of course I'm not happy. How bad is it? And no more lies!" Stupid, frustrating idiot!

"It isn't that bad. Just a little sore. Honestly. Now can you try to stand again?"

The pain in Dean's expression seemed to be more than just his leg. He looked like he was going to be sick. As they got back to their feet, he groaned, and dragged them both back to the ground.

"Ok, I might've left out the concussion." His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed.

"Crap! Come on, Dean. Wake up!" He knew he was overreacting. He couldn't help it. It was too soon after Dean's brushes with death to be rational. Trying to breathe through his own pain, it took several minutes for him to finally rouse his brother.

"Dean?" He watched his eyes flutter and try to open. "Come on, man. I'm not up to carrying your heavy ass out of here on my own. You need to wake up and help me a little."

Another groan and Dean opened his eyes to attempt an irritated look. "Always said you were a wuss."

"Whatever, dude. Can we get out of here now?" The sooner he could make sure Dean wasn't seriously injured again, the better.

"Definitely. Don't forget to tell Marcus it's all clear now."

"Are you sure it's finished? Did you see what happened?"

"Yeah. The little brother saved the day. Convinced Scott to move on with him. What I don't get is if Wesley has always been here and could get his brother to move on, why wait until now? Why wait until Scott got violent? Nothing on this case has been normal. Well, normal for us."

"Not sure. Maybe it had something to do with Scott's death being a suicide?" Dean has a very good point. I'll have to look into that further. Dean stumbled and would've fallen if not for Sam's grip on his arm and waist."Hey, no fainting again."

"I so did not faint! Fainting is for girls, like you Samantha."

"Fine, passed out. That butch enough for you?"

Since things had gotten so rough, Sam was going to insist on the three days of bed rest the doctor ordered. No matter how much Dean complained, he wasn't going to get his way this time. Of that Sam was certain. That and the job finally felt finished. That lingering doubt was finally gone.

By the time they got back to their hotel, Dean looked more alert and sounded more his usual self, bugging the younger hunter about his injuries. Sam was more than relieved to know things were over. They'd rest a few days, get the car, and head out for their next hunt.

He was slightly worried at his brother's lack of interest in his car. It was understandable after what happened, but so unnatural for Dean. He completely freaked when anyone breathed wrong on it. Now it was out of commission and it never even came up in conversation unless Sam mentioned it first. He had no idea how to get Dean to trust his baby again. People could talk things out. That wasn't an option with a car.

The minute they were back in the room, Dean pulled out their ice pack, filled it and put it on Sam's neck, then grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom. While Dean soaked his leg in the jacuzzi, Sam stepped outside the room and called the only other person who knew Dean well enough to help. It was a call he wasn't looking forward to. He'd have to tell Bobby what happened and explain why he didn't call when Dean got to the hospital. Bobby, for all his gruffness, treated them like his own kids. He was father, friend, and fellow hunter in a way John never figured out how to be with his own children.

"Hey, how's it going, Bobby?" He tried to sound normal, but lying to Bobby always made him uncomfortable.

"Hey, Sam. What's up? Everything ok?"

"Umm...yeah. We're good. I've been going through some research and couldn't find what I needed. I have a favor to ask."

"Sure thing, kid. Whatcha need?"

"Do you have a spell or a charm to keep a spirit out of an object? Those charms you gave us after I..." After I shot my brother. How much more can Dean go through before he gives up, before it kills him?

"I'm sure I can come up with something. What's it for? You sure you're ok? You don't sound like you're breathing so good."

Crap, I can't even hide things from him over the phone. He's as bad as Dean. May as well get this over with. "Yeah, just what usually happens when I have a run-in with a ghost. Now about that charm. Will the size of the object make a difference? I mean do you need to know how large it is before you make it? Or is it one size fits all?" He tried to stop rambling, knew that's what he did when he was nervous. He also knew that Bobby knew.

"Boy, just what have you idjits got yourselves into now? What do you need the charm for? And where's Dean? He ok?"

"Dean's fine. He's in the bath." Sam knew he couldn't put off the truth for much longer. Bobby was too smart to be fooled for long. "We've been working this haunted intersection in Texas. Things got a little out of hand. Ended up with more than one ghost."

"What exactly do you mean by out of hand and what the hell is the charm for?" He's not as bad as Dean. He's worse. Like a dog with a bone.

With a sigh, he answered. "It's for the Impala."

"Wait, you boys left for Texas a month ago. You still on the same case? What the hell happened out there?"

Sam went on to tell him about all that happened up to the point where he retrieved the journal from the car. Bobby was also surprised about Suzanne's spirit being happy to be dealt with. It was a first for all of them. He still didn't have the heart, or truthfully, the nerve to admit to the rest of it. "We've gotten the spirit out of the car, but not before...Dean..." His voice caught in his throat. He couldn't even talk about what happened without the fear coming back to haunt him.

"Dean what? What ain't you telling me?"

"The spirit...hurt Dean. Hurt him pretty bad." The tears were there again. He tried to hold them back. Dean was fine now. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Sam? You said Dean was fine."

"He is now. Mostly. But he wasn't." Tears flowed freely as he tried to tell his story. "The ghost, the brother of the kid who died in the original accident, crushed Dean between the seat and the steering wheel. He stopped breathing for two whole minutes. Then the spirit...then it..."

"What? Sam, what did it do?"

"It ran him over. Oh god, Bobby it ran him over with his own car. His heart stopped twice before getting to the hospital. He died and there was nothing I could do to stop it or help. Then...when he finally woke up almost 48 hours later it got worse." The tears were followed by sobs. He hadn't said any of what happened out loud until now. "A blood clot traveled from his leg, where the car hit him, to his lungs. His heart and lungs both stopped again. He almost didn't come back from that. It was Sioux Falls all over. I almost lost him again. I can't keep doing this, watching him die. It's killing me too."

"Damn! I'm sorry kid. You should've called me sooner. You didn't have to go through that by yourself."

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner. I was just so afraid to leave him until I knew he was going to be ok. And I didn't want to worry you. He only got out of the hospital yesterday."

"You need me to come and help finish the job?"

"No. The idiot insisted we finish that today. Which is why I sound the way I do and he's soaking the leg he probably re injured in the hot tub. I need to find a way to get Dean to trust his baby again. He won't talk about it, can't even look at it. I don't know how to fix this. I hoped a protective charm like you gave us after Meg would put his mind at ease."

"I'll see what I can come up with. Do you know where you're headed next?"

"We should be here for a few more days. Then we might head up to Fort Worth. It isn't far, but far enough from here."

"Let me look into a couple of things. Give me a couple of hours and I'll call you back."

"No, I'll call you. I don't want Dean to know about it until we're sure it'll work. He's having a hard enough time without me getting his hopes up unnecessarily."

"You got it. You look out for that brother of yours in the meantime."

"Thanks, Bobby. Really. I'll be in contact in two hours." He desperately hoped the older hunter could find something soon. If anyone could, it was Bobby.

Sitting in the tub with nothing to distract, Dean's thoughts raced. He was still at a loss for how everything had gone so horribly wrong. No change in scenarios came out with a better outcome. He lost his one constant and it terrified him. He'd barely had a chance to come to terms with the betrayal at Sam's hands. Knowing it wasn't really him only worked to a point. Nightmares took his fears and magnified them tenfold. He wanted to believe things were ok between them, made sure Sam thought they were. Though he realized he wasn't hiding it as well when it came to the Impala. That pain was still too fresh.

It was bad enough the attacks plagued his dreams. When he couldn't keep his waking mind occupied, they were all he could see. Three days in a hotel with no hunt, no research would drive him over the edge. Every time Sam brought up the car, he saw it as it raced toward Sam, felt the pain as it struck him instead. Seeing it in the salvage yard, Dean was tempted to just leave it there. He'd been fully prepared to burn the Caprice, almost hoped that burning it would help him get past his fear of the Impala.

Deep down he knew the fear was irrational, that with the spirit gone the attacks were over. The damage was done. His father never really taught him how to deal with his fears. Fear is for the weak and Winchesters are anything but weak. All he learned was how to hide the fears, bury them deep so they would go away. They never did. They festered. They grew. And his subconscious had a field day with them.

Their father's death took his ability to hide things from Sam. Almost losing Sam to a demon amplified his biggest fear, ending up alone. With the Impala, he lost his anchor, the only one he could count on not to leave. He almost wished the car had succeeded in killing him. Then he wouldn't have to deal with his fears, his feelings, or all the other things he wasn't capable of dealing with. Almost. The thought of leaving Sam to fight his own fears of turning evil was all that stayed his hand. He had to be there for his little brother no matter what.

Realizing he'd been in the bath for over half an hour, he knew if he didn't get out soon that Sam would start worrying. As he dressed, he noticed the bath helped with the pain in his leg again. It still hurt more than it had that morning, but it was noticeably better. He was ready to leave town, even if it meant pretending he was fine with driving the Impala. He came out of the bathroom as Sam was coming back into the room.

"Where'd you go?" He didn't mean to snap. Trying to make up for it, he tried again. "Sorry. You ok? How's your neck?"

"It's better, no swelling at all. I went for a walk. I needed some fresh air."

"Ok, so what do you want to do for lunch?"

"I thought we'd eat in. I want to look up some stuff."

"What stuff? The job is definitely over this time." God, I hope it's over. I don't think I could take another ghost right now.

"I know. But you brought up a good point. If Wesley could get Scott to move on, why wait until now? There has to be a reason. I wanted to look into it."

After a quick lunch, Sam buried himself in research. Dean settled in to watch a little cable. He wanted a beer, but alcohol and his medication didn't play well together. He settled for a soda and some peanut M&Ms. The Sci Fi Channel was running a horror movie marathon and it just started "My Bloody Valentine". It only took about fifteen minutes for him to fall asleep, the events of the day having taken their toll. The dream started like all the others.

He's pinned to the wall, staring into his father's yellow eyes. But this time the demon is smarter. He knows the best way to truly hurt Dean is to hurt Sam instead. It is Sam is bleeding, dying. Sam begging their father not to kill him, for Dean to help. He's helpless to stop it. The Yellow Eyed Demon takes John's body, the Colt, and the car, leaving Dean to watch his brother die.

Then he's in the bar in Duluth. Only this time it is Yellow Eyes that is possessing Sam. Jo is dead before Dean can even try to save her. He still shoots Dean, this time making sure the job is finished, leaving Dean with the knowledge that there isn't anyone powerful enough to stop him. The nightmare always ends the same way. Sam is walking across the parking lot, the Impala speeding toward him. Dean races out to save his brother when suddenly the car is heading for him. The last thing he sees is Sam, an evil glint in his yellow eyes, behind the wheel.

"NO!!" He woke suddenly to see Sam watching him, a worried look in his eyes. He looked away quickly, still stuck in the dream, afraid to see his eyes turn yellow. Damn, I guess I'm not handling things with Sam any better than the car.

"When are we going to talk about this?"

"Talk about what?" I can't let him know about that dream. He's scared enough about his supposed destiny as it is.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the nightmares. Or the car. You won't look at it. You never ask about it. That's just not like you."

"There's nothing to talk about. I'm fine, so give it a rest."

"Dean, you can't keep bottling things up. It's going to kill you."

"No, all of your nagging will do that fine. Now did you find what you were looking for?"

"Not really. There's so much lore on ghosts it's hard to know what, beyond the basics, is true. Hunters rarely come across one that isn't causing trouble, so there isn't much practical information that we don't already have. My best guess is that Wesley was dormant until Scott was removed from their car. I'd like to ask Bobby about it. See if he's ever come across, or heard about something like this."

"Sounds like a good idea. As long as the ghost is gone we don't have to hang around here. We can solve the mystery of why anywhere." He knew the change of subject wouldn't hold Sam for long. Better to skirt the issue than try to avoid it altogether. "Any word from Marcus?" See? Asking about the car. He hoped that would be close enough to talking for Sam. Otherwise it was going to be a very long night.