Thank you thank you thank you for all the wonderful reviews. And as always, many thanks to my wonderful beta msnancydrew!

"You're not going to spit beer all over me again, are you?" Sam backed up a pace just to be on the safe side.

Smiling a truly wicked smile Dean swished beer around his mouth for a second, arched one eyebrow (he seriously creeped Sam out some days when he did that) and shrugged before swallowing his brew. Sam relaxed, rubbed the back of his neck and laughed self-consciously.

"Sam, get real, the boogeyman? Maybe we should call it the boogey-person, don't want the spirits getting all hurt and angry and suing us for being insensitive." Dean picked up the stack of papers Sam dropped on the table between them. "I mean come on, what am I? Dean Winchester, demon hunter, saving the world one faerie tale at a time?"

"The troll was real Dean." And how did Sam delight in pointing that fact out.

Dean snorted, then growled, Sam decided the growl was some sort of term of affection, endearment. Sam liked the growl. "Sammy, don't talk to me about the troll, I hate that damn troll. It was a trouble maker."

"Craven said it was related to demons somehow."

"You're still talking about the troll." He was looking through the files. Sam could tell by Dean's expression, he was already interested. Watching Dean as his brother flipped back and forth, comparing one page to another. Finally closing the folder Dean laid it quite carefully on the table, palm resting on top of the thick file; he looked up, intense gaze meting Sam's eyes. "There are hundreds here. This is just the last decade, the eastern half of this country."

Sam nodded, "I know. It's a lot farther, a lot more than we ever knew, than I ever thought existed." He didn't even try to hide his confusion, apprehension, fear from what he'd been handed this time. "These pictures, drawings, the eyes. They all have red, or black, yellow, green eyes, almost demonic eyes, but not exactly the same. Maybe more than one thing is doing this, a whole different type of being, demon than we've come across before."

"I noticed. Where did he get the information, the statistics, statements from these…" Dean waved his hand over the folder, disgusted, repulsed, "sorry excuses for humans?"

"I don't know, he just gave it to me, didn't really tell me much about it. They couldn't help it Dean. This thing, this boogeyman, this is proof it's not just a child's tale. I don't think those people had a choice, they were forced to do these things."

"Sam, these are rapists, child killers, psychopaths, we don't hunt these."

"We hunt what did it to them. All these people, every one of them, they saw the same thing as children, over and over, were visited by the…" Sam stopped and shrugged, it sounded silly to him too. "…the boogeyman. In legends the boogeyman is often associated with serial killers. Maybe for a reason?"

Flipping again through the sheaf of paper Dean shrugged. "I have to admit it looks that way. But where do we start?"

"I think we're supposed to start here, with this list. Current children in treatment, all their files, they've all seen the same thing, not been able to sleep at night because of the same bad dreams. There are a few in the same general vicinity as convicted killers, serial molesters, rapists, like it preys on one generation then the next."

"The boogeyman?"

Sam nodded.

Dean pinned him to the spot he stood with such a blazing, intense gaze Sam couldn't help squirming. "Sammy," He spoke slowly. "Tell me, please tell me you've never seen…none of your dreams, nightmares have been about…this?"

"No. Never. Have you?"

Shaking his head no, Dean let out a sigh of obvious relief. "Got a starting point?"

"There are a few here hot spots here in New York. We can start there, follow this thing, demon, whatever it is. Maybe stop it, them."

Sitting at the table, Dean pulled the folder closer, started sorting out the different files and papers. "Look at this Sammy, an outbreak in the south during hurricane season, in the west during blizzards, the mid-west when there's a tornado every other day." He looked up at Sam. "Maybe when Bobby told us there was a storm coming, think he meant it literally?"

"No. I think if he'd noticed this he would have said so. Concha's theory about the demons, their energy needs, maybe this is related somehow. The atmosphere has more energy built up and expended during storms."

"Well either way, it's a trail to follow. We can't do more than research what happened beyond fifty or sixty years ago, those people would be dead. But we can still see if they fit the pattern, maybe it'll help us predict what to look for next, what will come along."

"Find a way to stop it?"

"Absolutely we need to find a way to stop it." Dean stood, closed Sam's laptop and stuffed the newest folders along with the computer into the laptop carry bag. "I guess we hit the road for a few days."

"Should we call Concha, have her come along?"

Dean shook his head, "No. I don't think she's too happy with either of us right now, and this is supposed to be what you…what we need to learn, to hunt."

Sam nodded, not sure he entirely agreed or not. For the first time the thought of he and Dean on the road, tracking something down, hunting, excited him. He looked forward to it, to spending time with his brother, to doing what they really did do best.

Packing supplies into the Impala, they headed north from Ithaca to a small town on the St. Lawrence River called Battersfield, the site of several school shootings, a killer who snatched children from their beds, and an unusually high incidence of child and adult psychosis. Sam recited all these facts to his brother as Dean drove. The first few hours were spent by Sam going over the details with the occasional question from Dean. They both agreed, this was big, very big, something they could spend the rest of their entire lives on big.

"So there's a pattern to all this?" Dean glanced sideways at Sam.

Nodding, swallowing half a water bottle at once, then handing it off to Dean, Sam twisted in his seat to face Dean, files balanced precariously on his knee. "Yeah. It starts when they're young, really young. Some of these kids can barely talk and they draw descriptions of the same creature, monster under the bed, in the closet. Guess their dads didn't think to hand them a gun."

Dean laughed. "You're never going to let that one rest are you? I'm just glad when you climbed into bed with me you left the gun." Blowing a breath through puffed cheeks and shaking his head, Dean reached over and gently smacked Sam's arm. "It could have been ugly."

"Focus Dean."

"I'm hungry, wanna stop and eat?"

"Ok, in the mean time, can you focus?"

"I'm focused Sammy, I'm the epitome of focused. Hey, I told Craven this, but he wasn't too impressed, but did you know in Indonesia the penalty for masturbation is decapitation?"

Letting both hands fall to the file folder Sam leveled his most serious glare at Dean. "Guess you'd better stay out of Indonesia then." He deadpanned.

Dean growled, which made Sam smile.

"Now that we've got that important fact out of the way, can we focus on our case?"

Shrugging in some noncommittal way Dean began tapping the steering wheel with his thumbs. Sam ignored it. Most the time Dean only did this to annoy him. Dean may be the person Sam loved most in the world, and the only person Sam ever looked up to, but damn he could be annoying. Especially, Sam decided, when he worked at it. Dean, when he wasn't busy being the overprotective care taker, was busy being a regular big brother, irritation included. He completely caught the stolen glances and quickly covered smirk as Dean tried to look serious and focused. Shaking his head, Sam turned back to his files.

"What?" Dean could sound so completely innocent when he wanted to, it was amazing.

"Nothing. So, as I was saying, these children all saw this thing, had no gun, and no big brother Dean to hide them and keep them safe…" Sam was cut off by Dean reaching over and pinging the side of his head with one finger. Before Sam could react much a chunk of his hair was wrapped up in Dean's fingers and tugged gently. Sam poked at his brother's ribs, which drew Dean's hand back to the steering wheel and more thrumming. Settling his shoulder more deeply against the seat back the tension of the past week eased away replaced by warmth not in a small way due to the content expression Dean wore and a return of being 'Sammy', poked and teased. It hadn't always been so, but now he liked being Sammy.

"Feel better now? Focused Dean?"

"Focused Sammy." Another few beats pounded out on the steering wheel before Dean's lips curled up and another glance flashed to Sam for a few seconds before returning to the road.

Rolling his eyes Sam huffed, "Where was I?"

"Well, you were carrying on about masturbation, I was wondering what those poor kids did when the monster came and there was no awesome big brother with a spare pillow…Hey!..." Dean's words were cut off by the folder whacking him over the head. "Dude, driving here."

"Hummmm." Sam rolled his eyes, making sure Dean saw him. "If that's what you want to call it."

"What? Now I can't drive?" Dean grumbled. "Drive better than you."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Not."

"Yes."

"Dean! Could we pay attention to the case, and the road? You just passed up the second turn off where there are places to eat."

"You're not hungry." Now Dean was being smug.

"Yes I am! I never said I wasn't."

Grinning Dean elbowed him again. "I saw a sign a few miles back for World's Best Steak Sandwich, I was heading there. See, Sammy, always gotta have a plan."

"Steak sandwiches?" His stomach grumbled, it was hopeful.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, I know your favorite. I do love me a good steak sandwich."

"You love anything you can eat."

"Sam, have you seen the amount of food YOU put away?"

Looking down at his files, Sam smiled sheepishly. Leave it to Dean to torment him while at the same time finding his favorite food. It was no mystery to Sam why he admired Dean so much, depended on him so much and just plain hero-worshipped the man. Sam wondered yet again, what had he done to deserve Dean for a brother? Whatever it was he hoped to keep right on doing it.

"So, fill me in some more focus-boy." Dean glanced behind him to change lanes, edging over to the far right lane, the exit must be coming up Sam reasoned. As he did so he glanced down at the papers in Sam's lap, then reached over and tapped Sam's forearm lightly.

"The reports are of this thing, this creature, showing up, almost like it's a haunting. There isn't anything about them being talked to, or any of the things the demons we know do."

"Sammy, do me a favor and don't talk about demons like we all go to the same parties and hang out slugging beers together."

"My point is there is no real contact other than reports of this thing being seen. So how is it affecting them?"

Dean shrugged, "Maybe what they see is some sort of cover, projection?" He hit the blinker, the Impala glided smoothly off the highway, speed easing down as they hit the main road. "It's possible they don't hear it say anything, but it communicates some other way, with emotions, something like that?"

"Yeah, very well could be." Sam agreed.

True to his word Sam saw a sign declaring the World's Best Steak Sandwich on the right. Dean turned and grinned broadly, making Sam shake his head and smile, then laugh. He was reminded how good it felt to have someone care for him so much. Problem was Sam didn't always feel he repaid these gestures. But then again maybe him appreciating it was all the payment Dean really wanted or needed. He tapped Dean's shoulder, "Hey."

"Humm?" Dean turned a curious gaze on him as he parked the car.

"Thanks." When Dean's eyebrows raised and he shook his head a fraction Sam continued. "For noticing this place."

"I love steak sandwiches Sammy."

Sam didn't miss the happy glow Dean's eyes took on just before they left the car. They wandered in, finding a booth near the back of the diner. Sam's stomach alerted him further to the fact it had been empty since early this morning. While they waited for their orders Sam opened the folder again, taking out records specific to the town they were headed.

"It's been going on there for thirty years or so." Sam passed a paper to Dean, then another. "They had a teacher go on a rampage through an elementary school in the mid-seventies. That seems to be the first. He snapped, no one knew why. Took his deer hunting gear and killed other teachers, and a few kids with arrows."

Dean winced.

"Then there was this one a few years ago. The recent one was the middle school, held a group of kids and teachers hostage. He was the school doctor."

"What did he use?" Dean moved the papers to one side when their food arrived.

Not answering right away, too busy enjoying his sandwich Sam gulped some pop, pointing to the top paper. "Same story, seemed fine, never bothered anyone, no violent tendencies, just snapped one day. He held them for over fifteen hours before shooting them. Just lined them up and shot them." Sam looked up at his brother. Dean's expression told him this was as disturbing to him as it was to Sam. "As children they'd all had this same thing, drew pictures in school, told friends about seeing the boogeyman. There's others who had more of a history of problems, violent behavior, psychosis."

"With a history of seeing this thing?"

"Yeah, but as children. No one seems to see the thing after age eleven or twelve."

"Puberty." Dean wiped his hands on a napkin, sat back, sipped his pop. "Or they just stopped talking about it. Got told they were too grown up to be afraid of the dark, stupid shit like that."

Sam snorted, nodding. "You know you never said that to me, I was too big to be afraid of the dark." He said softly, still feeling the need to somehow let Dean know how grateful he was for his brother's care.

This made Dean laugh in earnest. "Are you kidding me? Neither one of us is thatgrown up." Dean stretched. "What else is there recently?"

"A string of kids disappearing, some snatched from their beds." Sam shivered a little, "Child molester, who may or may not be the same person doing the kidnapping. More than half the kids molested had some sort of story about seeing a boogeyman."

"What about the two school shooters, were they ever molested?"

Sam rifled through his papers. "Yeah, well at least the most recent one was. Nothing here about the first one. But I bet it's a safe bet to say he was. Oh and get this the second shooter, he was in elementary school when the first one let loose."

"Let me guess which school. So this thing appears to victims and attackers, sometimes the victims become the attackers."

"This is so screwed up." Sam knew how much Dean would want to find this, stop it, he hated when things happened to kids. So did Sam. "How could nobody look out for them? Keep them safe?" His eyes met his brother's. "I mean you and I, we grew up around all sorts of seedy, just plain lowlifes and never once was I afraid someone would do anything like that to me."

"I would have killed anyone who messed with you like that, or any other way." Dean snarled. It was a real snarl, not one of his fake endearing ones.

"That's what I mean. These kids had parents, some had siblings, there were friends, teachers, and no one looked out for them, believed them?"

"I don't know Sammy. I really don't. I could never understand how someone could do that to a kid, to anyone. At least the demons are consistent."

"There doesn't seem, at least from these records, to be a centralized place, it's like this thing is just everywhere."

"All right," Dean moved his now empty plate to the side. "We'll interview some of the families, let's start with the kidnappings and child molesters. Maybe if we're lucky we can head off more."

It was well after dark by the time they rolled into Battersfield. Even though it wasn't very cold out Sam couldn't help shivering. Dean gave him an odd look and flipped on the heat.

"You coming down with something?"

Sam shook his head, "No, I don't think so. This place is creepy."

"Tell me about it." Dean mumbled. "Got directions to a motel?"

Angling their GPS so Dean could see the small map without really paying attention to it, Sam's interest was on the streets they drove down. Their way through town took them through a residential development, by a school.

"You know it's really hard to read the directions sideways." Dean snapped, yanking the GPS from Sam's hand.

"Huh? S-sorry…did you…"

"Crap!" Dean sputtered, slamming on the brakes so fast Sam had to brace against the dash to keep from being thrown from the seat.

"Feel that?"

"Feel?" Dean turned from staring out his window to gawk at Sam. "How about see it? What do you mean did I feel that? Feel what?"

When Dean's hand reached the door handle, Sam jerked across the small space of the car seat and grabbed him, stopping him from opening it. They both sat, watching for a minute as small wisps of light flickered and danced in the darkened windows of the school. In the next instant their attention was drawn to the playground on the side of the building. Swings on the swing set moved, some in unison, the slide swayed under some unseen weight. Even though there were streetlights nearby that should have illuminated the whole area, it was shroud in dark, in shadows.

"Sam, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dean jerked free of his grip, but Sam dove after him, hanging onto Dean's arm with an iron grip. "Sam!"

"No, you can't go out there, not now, no."

"Sam, spirits, ghosts, job."

Shaking his head furiously he could only repeat, "No. Dean please. Not now." When something moved swiftly by the driver's side of the Impala Sam flinched away, dragging Dean with him.

Dean's head whipped around to look out the window before turning back to Sam, frowning, obviously confused by Sam's sudden behavior switch. Another glance toward the school and playground Dean shook his head, restarted the car and drove down the street. This time he didn't make the effort to get free of Sam's desperate grip, and drove a few miles using one hand until Sam relaxed a bit.

"We're not ready." Sam tried to stop his voice from trembling, but it was a useless effort. This only earned him another odd look from Dean, one his brother didn't try to mask, didn't try to hide his concern.

After a few miles Dean studied him while waiting for a red light. "Are you ok?"

"Hum?" Sam looked over, turning immediately back to staring out the side window. "Yeah." He ignored Dean's snort.

The motel was actually a series of small, one room cabins. Dean calmly laid his hand over Sam's, gently removing Sam's hold on him as he got out of the car, announcing he'd book them a cabin. Sam trailed behind Dean to the office, which brought more of the Dean Winchester What the hell? looks that invariably turned to Dean Winchester What's wrong with you? looks. But he didn't say anything, Dean understood, Dean always understood, even when Sam didn't talk or explain, Dean understood him. Fear that deep didn't resolve in a few minutes, made worse by the fact Sam had no idea where it'd come from or why. He'd never felt like that before. Sam's sense of security was firmly tied and rooted to his brother. He didn't have to say he was too spooked to wait in the car, he felt silly even thinking it. He didn't say he was scared something would happen to Dean if he weren't there with him, that something awful might happen to Sam if they didn't stick together, his brother got it. His brother always got it where Sam was involved.

Sam waited patiently while Dean arranged for their cabin. Leaning casually against the counter, eyes wandering the small room, he tried to collect himself. He'd felt fear before, it wasn't exactly new to him. But this, this had been beyond fear. This was an unbridled terror he'd never experienced before. Not paying much attention to the conversation between the older woman behind the counter and Dean, Sam nearly jumped out of his skin and just barely stopped the hoarse gasp rising out of his throat when her fingers wound around his wrist.

"You should be more careful about where you go." She said.

"Huh? Y-yes ma'am." He had no clue what she was talking about, only that the black feeling he'd had at the school yard returned with a vengeance. Stepping back too quickly he stumbled a bit, yanking his arm away, sticking both hands in his pockets. Dean gave him a reproachful glare. He was going to get it once they were in their cabin. There would be no way to deflect Dean now.

Sidestepping, Dean slid between the counter and Sam, shouldering Sam back a step. "Sorry, my brother, he's been a little sick." Turning to throw Sam another glare, "Not himself at all."

"Well, I hope you're better soon."

"Thank you." Sam mumbled, finding his feet far easier to look at than anything else. Sam didn't care if Dean was irritated with him right now, he could only be grateful that Dean no matter what was big brother first. He let Dean nudge him out of the door and braced for Dean's anger when they were back in the car, pulling around the back of the cabins to their assigned one. His brother surprised him by just giving him a quizzical look, shaking his head.

When Dean unlocked the door to their cabin, Sam balked, back pedaling a few steps. Now blatantly irritated Dean grabbed Sam's jacket collar and yanked him through the door. Depositing their bags on the floor near the small table against the wall opposite the beds Dean wandered the room, turning on lights.

"Not so bad, eh?"

Sam sat on one bed, stared at the floor and nodded. He rubbed his forehead, this was giving him a headache. He was vaguely aware of Dean opening a door, closet. In the next instant Sam was up and moving toward his sibling. Dean screamed like a total girl and jumped back nearly a foot.

"What is it?" Sam spun in circles. "Dean!"

Dean was doubled over, his shoulders shaking, leaning his weight against his palms on his thighs. It took Sam a minute to process the fact Dean was laughing. Not just laughing, but laughing so much his entire body was wracked with spasms.

Straightening, gasping air, Dean pointed back to the closet. "Ha! Gotcha Sammy, there is no monster in the closet."

"Mon…whaaaa? Dean? You…" Crossing the room in a few strides Sam landed a punch to Dean's jaw. "Asshole!"

Dean was sent sprawling over one bed. Looking a bit stunned, and less than pleased he half sat up, rubbing his face he stared at Sam for a few seconds before pulling himself up. "Sam, lighten up, it was a joke." Dean shouted.

"It's not funny!" Sam shouted back.

"Ok, I've had it." Dean moved so fast Sam had no time to react, his brother had him by the arms, wheeled him around and planted him, none too gently in a chair. When Sam struggled to get up he was shoved twice as hard back down. "Sam, stop! What the hell is going on? What is wrong with you?"

"That wasn't funny." Sam shouted again, pointing at the offending closet.

Dean's shoulders dropped a bit, he sighed. "I'm sorry, Sammy I'm sorry. I was only trying to get you to ease up a bit."

"By scaring me?"

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't feel it? You don't feel it?"

Shaking his head, settling on the bed, leaning down to rests his elbows on his knees Dean watched him intently. "No Sammy, I'm sorry, I don't. Feel what? You said that before, in the car. Explain it to me. What did you feel?"

"I don't even know how to explain it, it's everywhere. That woman, the school yard. Just blackness, deep down…" Staring at his hands he tried for the right word, but only one came to mind, "…evil. Like it radiates fear. I can't get a grip on it, just terror."

When he could finally look up, meet Dean's eyes Sam could see his brother's expression was guilty, and worried. Dean drew a few deep breaths. "Ok, Sam you stay here, you don't have to go anywhere near that place. I'll go check it out."

"No!" Surging to his feet, fists bunched, Sam was completely prepared to battle however he had to.

Dean's mouth dropped open, expression changing to stunned. "Sam—"

"No, Dean, please, we have to stick together on this one. Please, promise me, please, we don't split up. Dean please?" Sam understood a few things never changed, and asking for what he wanted, asking Dean to give him something was never denied. It was a dirty trick, and manipulative, but he wasn't above using it when he needed it. Dean going alone would prove disastrous, Sam was sure. If a bit of emotional exploitation kept his brother safe, then so be it. Sam would use whatever weapon he needed to protect his brother.

"All right. But we can't go there during the day, kids will be in school."

Sam didn't even try to hide his relief. "Maybe after school is out, or on the weekend?"

"Let's just start by asking around, doing some interviews, we'll save the schools for last."

"Ok." The jittery feeling his insides experienced since they pulled into town eased off a bit.

The following day they spent trying to talk to whoever might offer them some clues. More to the point Dean spent the day interviewing. Sam spent the day following his brother, trying to dodge the annoyed looks. Two people he flat out refused to do more than say hello to, and could only sit, frozen in one spot while Dean talked. The fact Dean was losing patience at an almost amazingly slow rate was not getting by Sam. He was powerless to stop it, or make himself do otherwise. The feelings washing over him were overwhelming at best and paralyzing at their most intense. Dean's general annoyance was, by the hour, less and less hidden. They hadn't spoken four consecutive words by lunch time.

By early evening Dean was eager to return to the school, investigate the activity there. Knowing they had to do that, terrified to go into the building, and more terrified to let Dean in the building Sam's protests fell on mostly deaf ears. Dean argued they had to do this, couldn't ignore what they'd seen, and couldn't continue their investigation without going in there. Sam basically had two choices, go or not. Being afraid wasn't a reason not to. They did all sorts of jobs that involved all sorts of fears. Even Dean's reassurance they'd go together, stick together, his flat out demand Sam stay behind him, stick close did nothing to allay Sam's feelings.

So swallowing more fear he'd felt maybe ever Sam picked the locks to the school just after dusk and followed Dean inside. Hesitating near the doorway to some room in the basement Sam thought he saw movement. He'd only taken a step or two inside the room before turning to look for Dean when he was assaulted by a wave of what he could only describe as blackness, a blackness that carried with it a powerful terror. It paralyzed him, held him powerless to move or act or even think much beyond wanting to flee, be free of this bottomless fear.

He realized it had taken form, puddling at his feet the blackness wound its way up his legs, over his torso and chest to slither around his head in a motion that made it seem the blackness wanted to whisper in his ear. He tried, repeatedly, to call for his brother, but his shouts were nothing more than breathless murmurs. Throat squeezing tight, heart racing, stomach flipping Sam was helpless, able to do nothing but stand there and shake.

"Sammy, where the hell did you go? What happened to stay together?" Dean rounded the corner, stalked into the room, angry and impatient.

For the first time in his life Sam didn't want his brother anywhere near him, this thing, this blackness it was coming for Dean and Sam couldn't stop it. Dean slammed to a halt, gun immediately up. Sam's eyes met Dean's. He pleaded a silent apology to his older brother. Dean's eyes widened in response, breath sucked in and held. Sam saw Dean's hands shake, his eyes widen, fear, no panic creep across his face. All the things Sam never really saw in his brother's face, all the things he never wanted to see.

For maybe the first time in his life Sam felt Dean couldn't help him, couldn't save him, couldn't protect him. That scared him even more than the blackness swimming over him.