Dean gripped the steering wheel hard enough his arms cramped, pain crept to his shoulders and neck. A gust of wind hit the Impala, making it swerve. It was sheer reflex that had him righting the car so quickly. He barely stole a glance at his younger brother, sliding sideways, arm out to brace against the dash. Dean's second sheer reflex was to stretch one arm across Sam's chest, holding him in place, or trying to.

He expected an annoyed face from Sam; instead he was given a shaky smile as Sam righted himself. "Gale warnings are out, heard them on the radio a while back."

"Thank you Sammy." Wind buffeted the car again, making Dean grabbed at the wheel with both hands again. Leaning closer to the windshield, Dean peered into the rain. It was somewhere between day and night, that gray twilight, and having it raining was making it more difficult to see. "We're going to find somewhere to stay."

"This isn't going to clear up, not until after the hurricane passes."

"Yeah, well I'm not driving in it in the dark."

"I can—"

"And neither are you."

"Dean…" Sam huffed something Dean was sure he didn't want to know the translation of.

"What is with you, all of a sudden, since we left Ithaca, you don't want to stop? You're driving yourself into the ground and taking me with you. I'm tired. I'm hungry and we're stopping for the night." Dean snapped the last words out harshly, loudly, more so than he intended them to be. His back hurt.

Sam grumbled, flipped himself around to face forward, and slammed back against the seat. Rolling his eyes, but keeping quiet, Dean chuckled inwardly. Sam was so thirteen some days. He knew there was an underlying cause to Sam's recent change; it was beginning to wear on them both. It needed to be addressed, and Dean sensed the time was fast approaching. He could only hope it didn't turn into an all out confrontation between his brother and him.

"I want to get this done, over and done. Okay?" Sam bit out, speaking mostly to the passenger side window.

Pulling in a deep breath, more to steady his hands than anything, Dean reached out to Sam's shoulder. He was surprised when Sam shrugged him off, snarling an annoyed noise from deep in his chest.

"Sam." Dean withdrew his hand, glanced at his brother for as long as he dared in the torrential rains.

"You're just…" Sam drew in some deep breaths, eyes shifting to stare at the dash, "You're getting just like him, just like Dad. You're turning into him."

The sheer intensity, disgust, hate in Sam's voice shocked Dean speechless. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Where the hell did the kid come up with this stuff? Most days Dean only wished he knew, he really had no clue. Sam saw things; fine nuances in people, things no one else thought were seeable. It was a powerful research tool. Emotionally, it was this tendency forever threatening to tear Sam apart from the inside out. His feelings, logic sometimes warped into some hideous twelve-headed monster. Mostly Dean wanted to cut all those heads off and stick them in a meat grinder.

"You're getting obsessed and act like you have blinders on to everything but IT." Sam snapped out, breathing harsh, words tumbling over themselves, crunching together.

"It's going after kids Sammy. Yeah, I want to stop it. Or at least stop this one, this time."

"It was…it…" Sam's fingers picked viciously at the window frame. "That thing is after you, wanted to hurt you, and it's going to use me to find you." He blurted out.

"Then we'll deal with it Sam." Glancing at his young brother Dean again moved his hand to Sam's shoulder, this time he wasn't pushed away. An insistent squeeze and Sam turned to look at him. "We will." Dean said earnestly. "I'm asking you again, Sam—that thing show up in the car when we left Battersfield? Since then, have you seen it? Don't bullshit me either."

"I don't know. I've felt it, I told you I did. I woke up and everything was so black, no light, just dark, empty dark." Sam fell silent for a few minutes. "I'm just… it scares me, you getting obsessed with it, like Dad was with the yellow-eyed demon."

"I won't." Dean said softly.

"How do you know?"

Cracking a grin, "Cause you, my little brother, will harp on me until I stop."

That lightened Sam's mood somewhat. "Yeah, I will."

"I won't ever let it take you Sam, I won't. I promise." Dean took a quick look at the traffic behind him. "In the meantime we're still stopping for the night. I'm tired and my ass hurts from sitting so much."

Smiling, Sam turned his head just far enough to peer at Dean from under his bangs. "I'll hold you to that you know."

"I was sort of counting on it." Again the car rocked and skimmed toward the shoulder. "This is nuts, keep an eye out for somewhere, anywhere to pull off."

"We've got another three or four hours at least to Grover's Point."

"Sam!" Dean growled out. "Enough. You're the one obsessed, not me. We're stopping for the night, end of story. Once more and I'm kicking your ass out and you can walk in this crap."

Blanching, Sam turned away, glared out the side window. Dean immediately regretted his words. His leaving for a few days in Ithaca had done a number on his brother's head; he was seeing just how much so for the first time. It'd caused far more an impact than Dean first realized. Sam never said anything about it, never talked about it and Dean was only now beginning to see why. Sam was struggling with everything that happened to them in the past few weeks. His tendency to repress, bury things inside wasn't working for him this time. Yet, at the same time Sam must fear a replay because he'd gone totally silent on the subject, which was very un-Sam like. He knew full well Sam didn't bring up what transpired between them for fear the underlying argument might surface again, and start it all over.

It wasn't too much of a stretch for Dean to put this all together in his own head. He had plenty experience with people leaving him, knew exactly what it felt like, and how the thought of it happening again felt. It still gnawed little holes in his brain some days, wondering if Sam would take off, just leave. Those times were fewer and much farther between, simply because Dean no longer feared losing his brother that way. Some other way maybe, but not because Sam might just throw his hands up and strike out on his own, forgetting his brother altogether.

For the first time in their lives, Sam must have felt he'd lost the security Dean always provided, even if it was just for a few days. Dean knew it wasn't lost, and for once he knew exactly how to remedy the problem. However, there was no quick fix for this one, Sam would simply have to learn for himself Dean was no different, he'd be there, just as he always had.

"There." Sam's voice broke through his thoughts.

Dean looked to the right, where Sam's arm extended, pointing out the front window. A turn off with a small group of buildings huddled near it, on a hill no less. Shrugging, Dean figured it was as good a place as any. Guiding the big car off the road, between the wind and rain it still managed to slide and shimmy. Sam's hand shot out, gripping the dash when they fishtailed for a few yards. Narrowly missing the guardrail and the who knew how far drop beyond it, the Impala would plow through those flimsy tin rails like they were paper.

The second he had the car under control, slowed to a crawl, Dean again gripped his brother's shirt, pushing Sam back against the seat, only mildly surprised he didn't get some sarcastic remark from Sam about him not being a child. Those had eased off considerably since Ithaca, whether it was because Sam was afraid of repercussions or he honestly stopped minding Dean's tendency to get over protective, he had no clue. What he did know for sure was not only was Sam trembling slightly, Dean was too.

"Maybe we should stop for the night." Sam muttered mostly to his knees.

Rolling his eyes because he could, not because Sam would see them in the dark, Dean finally brought their car to a stop in front of one of the closer buildings off the ramp. Several semis dotted the area, both in front of this building and a few of the others. It was a truck stop type of place, diner and bar rolled into one. Though the building next to it didn't specifically advertise as such, it was probably some sort of motel. Since truckers mostly slept in their rigs there was little need for rooms for them. For the rest of the traveling population however there was a need. Dean found often times smaller motels sat alongside the traditional truck stops. Pulling around to find a spot closer to the office, he finally saw the tell tale 'VACANCY' sign flashing alongside some cute motel name. It faced the local road, not the highway.

"I'll get us a room. Hungry? We can head over there," Dean pointed the diner/bar, "Grab some food."

"Sure." Sam made busy packing up his files, grabbing his jacket from the back seat.

Dean knew the entire time he was in the office, even though Sam appeared occupied, he was really watching every move Dean made. Oh well, Dean supposed, turn about was fair play. If it made the kid feel better he didn't really mind or care.

"Ya'll heading the wrong way sonny." The man, maybe in his sixties, behind the counter cheerfully pointed out to Dean. No shit dude.

Plastering a charming smile on his face, Dean nodded, affirming the man's wisdom. "Yeah, tell me about it. But my brother and I have to get south; business." He added a shrug for effect.

The man seemed to feel sorry for him. "We're pretty full, sorry, but you're around back; no parking spaces close."

"That's ok, warm room and a hot shower is what we want. How's the food over there?" Dean's thumb jerked back toward the diner/bar.

"It's good, cheap and filling."

"My favorite kind." Dean smiled a farewell to the man, signed the card slip and took the offered key cards. He was back in the car, dripping wet, in a few minutes. "Thanks." He gratefully took the small towel Sam offered, rubbing his hair dry. "What's first, dump our stuff or eat?"

"Eat."

"Good choice." If they were eating, Sam's mouth would be full and he couldn't rehash again how they needed to get to Grover's Point and how Dean was getting obsessed; which he was not.

The short run from the car to the diner door had them both drenched. Dean's leather jacket provided a bit more protection from the wet, but Sam's denim one didn't, he was shivering slightly when they found a booth. Sam nearly dove into the offered cup of coffee, making the waitress's mouth twitch up. Leaning back, arm slung over the booth back, Dean took a casual look around the place.

The diner part was in the front, a bar, tables, wide screen TV and video games near the back. He tapped the back of Sam's hand, pointing out the free Wi-Fi sign, which brought an immediate grin to his kid brother's face, though the laptop was left in its bag, resting between Sam's feet. Their waitress seemed to be the only one; a tired, overworked looking woman in her thirties he guessed. There were also more people in here than there were trucks outside to account for them. Dean wondered why so many people would be out on a night like this.

Sloughing off the general feeling of unease creeping up his spine, Dean sipped his coffee, eyes falling on everyone in the place for a few seconds. Not all of them were truckers, in fact few were. Thrill seekers in the guise of storm chasers, a few were obviously locals, then there was the group closer to the back, in the bar area. Hunters, they were hunters, and not the kind after deer; these guys had silver tipped knives, rosaries and Dean was willing to bet those flasks with crosses etched on the outside held holy water.

They ordered their food, Dean made sure to make the waitress blush because he could, and more importantly because it seemed to make the woman brighten, all the while keeping an eye on the group in the back. Sam, still rifling through his files, didn't seem to notice. Then again, why should he, Dean reasoned. Sam lived his life knowing Dean noticed these things, which again brought Dean back to the termination of Sam's complaining he was too over protective. Tapping the side of Sam's foot with his toe, Dean nodded casually to the group in the back.

Sam stretched, fingers intertwining over his head, twisted himself side to side, far enough to look where Dean indicated. "Think they made us?" Sam's voice dropped to something just over a whisper.

Dean shook his head. "Don't know. Maybe they're here for something else, the same as us? Hell, Sammy, these guys all seem to know who we are and we don't know who any of them are."

"Yeah, well if Dad hadn't been so—" Sam bit his words off, stuffing food into his mouth instead. The kid was definitely shaky on bringing up their father in any context.

"Not much we can do about it now." Dean pretended not to notice, and smiled kindly when the tension dropped from his brother's shoulders and face. Arguing constantly over what their dead parent did or did not do, did or did not feel was useless, pointless and hurtful. He'd said as much to Sam, now he reasoned he'd have to show it to the kid too, prove he meant it and everything else he'd said in Ithaca. Dean did it for one simple reason, at the end of the day one person offered him the security and loyalty he really, desperately needed, and that person sat in the booth opposite him.

Pointing at Sam's plate, "Finish up, let's go get some rest, huh?"

"I am finished Dean, you're the one who has cold food on your plate." Sam grinned, then ordered and ate dessert, getting two more orders to take back to their room.

Once they'd piled everything into their room, Dean headed for the shower. Hot water assaulted him, relaxing him and warming him. By the time he was done, and flopped onto his bed, he was drowsy and comfortable, vaguely aware of Sam talking about something, his voice softening then getting louder as he moved about the room. The sound of water running in the shower heralded the closing of Dean's eyes.

Black. Nothing but black, black, black. No light reflected off the black. Just black. And Sam. Black oozed around Sam, slithered through his hair, not leaving an oily, dirty trail, just slithered through. Around his neck, cascading to the floor to pool at Sam's feet. The black rose in steady waves, covered his brother's legs up his torso. Reaching out, reaching to Dean, Sam shouted, begged for help. The black reached Sam's chest, Dean could see it was making his breathing difficult.

Run! Dean ran, ran fast, not fast enough to stop it. Not fast enough to reach Sam before it covered his head.

The black flowed higher, Sam couldn't breathe through it…higher still, until nothing but wide, frightened eyes was all Dean saw, that and Sam's hair spreading out on the wave of black. Sam flailed in the black, making it quiver but not shimmer, nothing reflected it. Struggling against a force Dean couldn't see, Sam was pulled under, engulfed with black. His scream of "Dean!" cut off and garbled.

Then there was nothing but the black…

"Dean. Hey, Dean?"

Awake, sitting up and swinging all at once, Dean fought against a weight on his chest. He couldn't breathe.

"DEAN." Sam shouted and ducked, pushing his hand flat against Dean's chest. "You ok?"

Dean blinked, coughed, struggled up and back to lean against the wall behind the bed. Grabbing Sam's arm with enough power a barely audible, "oww" escaped Sam's mouth, though he didn't move.

"You were dreaming."

Staring up at Sam, he shook his head a few times, eyes traveling to his arms when small drops of water fell from Sam, still mostly wet from his shower, half his face covered with shaving cream. Dean blinked at him some more, the white against Sam's skin confusing him. "W-why you half white and fluffy?"

"Why am I…?" Sam blew out a breath, leaned back, curled one leg under himself and settled more comfortably on the edge of the bed. Holding up his other hand, razor gripped in white knuckles, "Dude, I nearly slit my own throat shaving you scared me so bad. You screamed like your legs were being chewed off."

"Soo-ssorry."

"It's ok." Sam smiled patiently. "You all right?"

"Yeah." Dean managed to clear his throat, get his voice working. Letting go of Sam's wrist he patted his shoulder. "I didn't mean to scare you, sorry."

"I know you didn't mean it."

His free hand fluttering in the direction of the bathroom, "Go finish shaving, you look ridiculous."

Sam nodded, giving Dean's chest a slight bump as he stood. "What was it, you remember?" His voice floated out of the bathroom, Dean could see the lighting change with Sam's movements.

"Just um…no…not…" He swung off the bed, going for the small fridge just outside the bathroom door, more so to be in closer proximity to his brother, know he was fine, than to get the can of Coke he knew was in there. He leaned against the door jamb, staring out at the room, cracking open the pop with a fizz and small spray of the sticky liquid.

"Uh huh…sure." Sam leaned around the door, now mostly shaved and grinned. "Like I don't remember mine?"

"Exactly like that." Dean took a swig from his drink, offered Sam some when he rounded the door, this time free of shaving cream.

"Thanks." Sam took a drink, handed it back, stood between Dean and the main part of the room, blinking placidly. When Dean didn't say anything for a few minutes Sam rocked back and forth on his heels, sighed heavily.

Wiping one hand over his face, Dean met his brother's eyes, shrugged a bit. "I don't know Sam, just dark; maybe something like water rising up, but not water like I've ever seen. It was just..." He groped for a word, and only found one, "Black. It just kept coming up, covering you; me too, I think."

Sam shivered. "It was, that was it, wasn't it?"

"I don't know." Which was the truth.

Crossing the room, Sam pulled one of the files out, settled on the edge of Dean's bed again. Trailing behind him, Dean plunked down on the other side, took the pages his brother offered. "This place, this old orphanage seems to be the center point. I don't know for sure if it's the land, the building or something attached to one of them."

Nodding, Dean leaned back, switched on the TV, "Okay, so we start there."

Sam bit his lip, stared at the floor, but didn't argue. The lights flickered, dying completely in the next second. They both sat there, holding a breath for a second before both heads turned to the window. The power was out. It was just as well, the only station they could get here was The Weather Channel, and Dean sure didn't need that to know what sort of mess he was driving himself and his brother straight into. After another minute Sam groaned and laughed short and nervous.

"We're salted and warded." Dean reminded him, felt the bed move slightly as Sam nodded, then moved away to his own bed.

By the time Sam's breathing evened out, Dean's eyes adjusted to the near total blackness of their room. But it was normal, dead of night black, nothing more. Sam had stretched on his side, facing his brother. Dean sat there quietly, not really tired anymore, and not really anxious to go back to sleep just yet, watching Sam's chest rise and fall, watching the small movements under his eyelids, of his face as he slept. Dean sat there watching his brother, not knowing how long it was exactly before he too dropped off to sleep.