+Kyriebess removes baseball cap from head and twists it in her hands+ Um, okay…I KNOW I said this'd be the last part and I KNOW I said the last chapter would be the last part…but, um…

+Quickly throws cap back on and jumps behind big rock+ It was too long! I had to end where I was! I'm sorry+wails+

Please don't hurl rocks at me. I really did intend for it to end here, but the next two (or possibly one) scene(s) are just so different that I really needed the chapter to end where it did. So, um, there'll be another one? And not to sound like the boy who cried wolf or anything, but that one really will be the last one… I know, I have no more credibility. +Pushes cap over her eyes, flips over, now leaning against rock and sobs+ I'm sorry…

Blind, But Now I See: Chapter 5-

Sam sat at the top of the cliff, covered in sweat. Climbing up the rope using only one arm had been just as difficult the second time around…despite the sling. The throbbinng in his arm was getting to a point where it was overtaking all feeling and thought. Sam screwed up his face in pain, doubling over around his arm.

"Did you get any painkillers before you signed yourself out?"

Sam looked up to see Dean pulling himself over the edge of the cliff. The moonlight was more visible up here and Sam could see the bruises forming on his brother's neck. The hurt in his arm was nothing compared to what would've been the hurt of losing Dean and that thought seemed to make the ache recede just a bit.

Sam shook his head, grimacing as he replied. "I didn't sign out, just went for a really long walk."

Dean paused with one leg over the edge to shoot his brother a look. Then he rolled his eyes. "That was one hell of a walk, Sam."

Sam nodded and Dean finished pulling himself out of the embankment, brushing the mud off his jeans as he stood up. "Tell me you didn't actually walk."

Sam stayed doubled over his arm and shook his head, now in too much pain to speak. He didn't know if it was the extra strain he had been putting out since leaving the hospital, or if the remaining painkillers in his system had stopped working, but either way, the pain was unbearable.

Sam blinked, feeling a bead of sweat roll of his nose and onto his pant leg. Suddenly, Dean's hands were on his shoulders, his face looking worriedly at Sam's. "Sammy?"

Sam took a breath. "Sorry…it really hurts."

Dean nodded. "Come on."

Dean pulled him up, draping his good arm over his shoulder while he fought the urge to throw-up on his brother. Sam looked around wondering when it was that Dean had coiled the rope. Now Danny's smoldering remains were the only proof that they had been there. Dean pushed them both forward.

"Come on, man. Let's get going."

Sam nodded and stared at his shoes as they walked. If he looked up, he'd throw up. They had only walked a few feet when a click sounded and Dean abruptly stopped. Concerned, Sam forced his head to raise…and found himself staring into the barrel of a pistol. Next to him, he could feel Dean's muscles tense, his whole body on edge.

"You piece of shit."

The man with the gun smiled. "I have a gun; I wouldn't call me names if I were you."

Understanding the situation, despite his pain, Sam took all his weight back and separated himself from his brother. For one thing, he wanted to be at least enough distance from Dean that they both couldn't be taken out with one shot. And for another, while it was unlikely that he'd be kicking ass in his current condition, Dean could, and would need to be free of Sam's weight to do so.

Dean grit his teeth. "Dude…I'm so pissed right now, I'm pretty sure I could take a bullet and still manage to tear your throat out."

The man sneered and raised his gun higher. "Even if I shoot you in the head?"

Dean did not appear threatened. "How the hell could you do that to him? The kid worshipped the freakin' ground you walked on."

Drew made an unsympathetic face. "My whole life was forced to revolve around Danny. 'You can't go out, you need to watch your brother,' 'Drew, go make your brother dinner,' 'You can't join the math team, we need you walk Danny home from school'. Every single thing was centered on him. Do you have any idea what that's like, to know that everything that you wanted to do yourself would never happen because your brother has to come first? It was like I was a slave to him."

Dean's jaw clenched and Sam spoke up. "But Danny didn't think of you that way. He loved you. He looked up to you. He didn't want to ruin your life."

Drew shook the gun over at Sam. "And I didn't ask for him to be born!"

"You sick bastard." Dean spoke through clenched teeth while moving toward the man, stopping only when the gun once again faced him.

Drew laughed. "You should understand, Dean. You told me in our little heart-to-heart the other day after little brother here left that your father did the same to you…squashed all your dreams and wishes just so he'd have someone to babysit Sam." Sam searched his brother's face for what was actually said, but all Sam could see was Dean's rage. Drew continued, his voice growing in volume. "You even said that it's still happening, even though your father's dead. That you want to quit your job, stop traveling, settle somewhere, but you'll never be able to do that because of Sam."

Sam's heart clenched in fear and his breath stopped. Had Dean actually said that? It was hard to believe Dean would ever say something like that out loud, much less to a stranger, but Sam had always thought that some part of his brother might feel that way. How else would Drew have known those things, if Dean hadn't said them?

Dean seemed to be infuriated with Drew, although Sam briefly wondered if part of that was because he hadn't wanted Sam to find out what he had said. Dean's eyes were bulging, his breaths causing his whole chest to heave. Dean leaned toward the man, pointing at him, speaking quietly through his teeth. "I'm going to kill you. I'm watching every movement you make and when you slip, even for a second, I'm going to use it to rip you apart with my bare hands. I promise you, you're not leaving this park alive."

Sam stared at his brother. Dean wasn't kidding. He wasn't exaggerating. He meant that. And what was worse, Dean could do it. They had killed many things in their lifetimes, and Drew was evil, but he was also human, one hundred percent human. Killing him would cross the line from hunting to murder.

Drew also seemed to understand that Dean was serious. If possible, the man seemed to pale even more, and took a step back. "I'm sorry, Dean, but I would think you of all people would understand."

"I wou…me of all…you thought I would…" Apparently, Dean was so enraged, he couldn't even find the words.

Drew nodded. "Yes. You should understand, you're burdened by your brother too. He's holding you back."

Dean stepped forward and Drew stepped back, still pointing the gun. "My brother, is not a burden. And he sure as all HELL ain't holding me back!"

This time, even Sam backed up as Dean continued. "That's what family is. That's what they do. Family is when you care more about another person's happiness than you do your own. That's what it is. It's being unselfish-"

Drew laughed. "Unselfish? Yeah? And what happens when it's only unselfish for one person and selfish for the other? What happens when you're giving up everything and the other person just takes everything? Then is it family?"

Dean shook his head, his eyes shooting daggers. "Danny idolized you! He trusted you. He looked up to you. There's a responsibility that comes with that-"

Drew cut him off. "I never asked for that responsibility-"

Dean pointed. "It doesn't matter whether you asked for it or not! Danny didn't ask for it either! He wasn't the one who was selfish. He gave-"

Drew shook his gun, stepping closer to Dean. "He gave me nothing! He took everything from me! I couldn't even go on my first date because he got sick and I had to stay in the house in case he needed something!"

"He was younger than you!" Dean's face had turned red, his voice clearly becoming sore from the screaming. Spit flew from his mouth as he yelled. "He was a kid! He needed you to watch out for him!"

Drew yelled back. "So what?! I was a kid too! What about me?! What did he ever do for me?!"

"He gave it back to you! He gave it back in trust and admiration! He gave it back in the way he looked at you!"

Drew brought his gun up again, moving forward. "That's not the same! I gave up more! He didn't sacrifice anything!"

Dean held his ground. "It doesn't have to be the same! It couldn't be the same; you were older! He couldn't give you back what you gave him! He gave it back in a different way! Just because it's not the same doesn't mean it's not equal! Equal doesn't mean the same thing on both sides. It means both people give what they can!"

Drew shook his head, sputtering. "Why am I arguing with you anyway? You never even knew my brother. He died when you were a toddler. You have no idea what he was like."

"No, but I do."

Sam and Drew whirled at the voice of the man stepping out from the trees. A movement to his right caught Sam's eye and he turned back just in time to see Dean lunge forward and in one quick motion, rip the gun from Drew's hand and point it at his head. Before Drew could even process the fact that he had been disarmed, Sam moved toward his brother. "Dean, give me the gun."

But Dean made no movement, gave no indication that he even heard Sam. Instead he just stood, holding the gun out, staring at the center of Drew's forehead. Sam tried again, swallowing his fear. "Dean?"

The man from the trees stepped forward. "Dean, I know you want to kill him…but do me a favor and hold off for a second? I need to beat the shit out of him first. Then I'll help you hide the body."

Drew looked back and forth, caught between both men. When he had the gun, the man had seemed almost smug, now he was pale, sweaty, and clearly frightened. Sam looked down to check if the man had pissed his pants yet. Nope, apparently he had some self-control…

Finally, Dean spoke, lowering the gun a fraction of an inch. "Dr. Hawthorne?"

The doctor turned to Sam. "You're wasting the time and energy of our nursing staff right now. They're not tending to the patients as well as they could because they're all looking for you."

Sam stood up straighter, still having not recovered from his shock of seeing the doctor arrive. "Uh…sorry."

The physician gave a curt nod and turned to Dean. "I overheard some of what the two of you were discussing in the hospital and when I heard Danny and Drew…and I knew Sam got hurt in the park…I had to see what was going on. I know this is where Danny went missing." He turned to Drew. "I know you took him here that day."

Drew stared at the doctor annoyed, but said nothing.

Dr. Hawthorne flared his nostrils in anger. "What did you do?" Then, all at one, the physician looked sad. "Please tell me you didn't kill him yourself…that would've destroyed him…and not just his body."

Drew didn't answer, so Dean spoke for him. "Nah…bastard didn't kill him…just let some druggies beat the shit out of him…then he ran the kid off that cliff."

The doctor looked over at the cliff and Sam picked up the story. "Danny broke his leg and Drew promised he'd be back for help. He never came back and Danny died there five days later, still waiting."

Drew scoffed at Sam. "Please. He wouldn't have lasted five days. At most it would've been two." He the chemist stopped and looked between Sam and Dean. "Wait a minute. How did you know all that?"

Dr. Hawthorne's eyes flashed. "You…" He never finished the sentence, having instead decided to charge forward, plowing into Drew. Sam and Dean both stepped back in surprise, watching as the doctor pummeled the man repeatedly. Blood, sweat, and spit flew everywhere. It wasn't really even a fight, as Drew seemed unable to even defend himself. The man didn't even know how to block a punch.

Dean lowered the gun and turned to his brother. "Dude, did I miss something? Why is the doc here?"

Sam thought for a moment. He had apparently missed something too. Then, with a start, he turned to his brother. "What was the doc's first name?"

Dean looked confused. "Uh…John? Peter? Thomas?"

Sam interrupted him. "Thomas?!"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe. It was definitely one of the apostles…"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Danny kept talking about a kid named Tommy."

Dean snapped his fingers. "That was the kid he was supposed to go home with that day."

Sam nodded. It made sense if Dr. Hawthorne was Tommy. Dean made a face. "So he was Danny's best friend…man…no wonder he's so pissed."

Sam cringed as he watched the enraged doctor land another punch on the semi-conscious man's face. "Dean, he's gonna kill him…"

Dean stared at Drew with hatred in his eyes. "Good."

Sam tilted his head in disbelief. "Dean." When he received no response, he tried again. "Dean, we can't just let him kill him."

Dean sent his brother a look, clearly saying, 'yes we can' and then turned back to the fight.

Sam sighed. If that was the way Dean felt, fine, but he couldn't just stand by and watch Drew get murdered- regardless of how evil the man was. Taking a breath, Sam stalked towards the fighting men. Almost immediately, Dean's hand was on his arm, pulling him back. "Whoa, Sam. What're you doing?"

Sam turned to his brother. "I can't sit and watch a man get murdered, Dean, whether he deserves it or not. I'm breaking it up."

Dean pushed him back, staring incredulously. "With one arm?"

Sam nodded. "If I have to." Once again, he began walking toward the fight…and once again, Dean pulled him back.

"All right, all right. I'll break it up." Dean handed his brother the gun and walked to the men, stopping just before them to point a finger at his brother. "You stay there. It won't do us any good if you get hit in the arm and pass out."

Sam rolled his eyes and watched as Dean paused an unnecessarily long time before reaching down and wrapping his arms around the doctor's elbows, pulling him off Drew. The physician seemed to struggle for a moment before allowing Dean to pull him back. As they stumbled backward toward Sam, both men glared with hatred at the bruised and bloody form on the floor. Finally, once they were several feet away, Dean released his hold.

The doctor, breathing heavily, adjusted his shirt and wiped the sweat from his brow. His hands were shaking, his knuckles scraped raw. He looked over at the brothers. "I have no idea why or how you got involved in this, but I've been trying to figure out for years what happened to Danny. He was supposed to go home with me the day he disappeared. He went with that asshole instead, so I knew he had something to do with it. Plus I knew Drew, so I knew he had something to do with it." The man shook his head in contempt. "I never understood Danny's blind worship for that piece of shit. Drew treated him like crap and he'd just take it."

Sam turned his eyes to Danny's brother who was now lying on his side, breathing harshly into the ground. Every now and then the man would cough and then moan. His face was already swelling and it was obvious that several of the bones in his face had been broken. Drew was a pitiful sight and Sam couldn't help feeling that Danny would've been very upset with Tommy…er, Dr. Hawthorne…if he had been around to see what happened. He closed his eyes as the thought of Danny reminded him of the horrible way the boy had left this world…physically and spiritually.

"He killed Danny because he was jealous. I'm sure what he said about having to take care of Dan was true too, but really it was jealousy. Everybody in the town loved Danny- and nobody could stand Drew. Danny was captain of the little league team. He played shortstop. He was an altar boy at St. Cecila's. He volunteered every other weekend at the nursing home. He was a boy scout. He used to love fishing and camping and hiking. He was nice to everyone he met, never had anything bad to say about anybody." The doctor turned to the brothers. "He was the kind of guy who'd work all fall raking leaves just so he'd have money to buy a new bike and then when he's on line in the store and sees that Mrs. Randall can't afford to buy her kids Christmas presents, puts the bike away and hands her the money without a second thought."

Sam closed his eyes in sorrow, Danny had been a good kid, twenty-four years of being a ghost had had its impact on him. He hoped wherever Danny was now, it was better than where he'd been the past twenty-four years.

Dr. Hawthorne continued, now on the verge of tears. "When he went missing, the whole town looked for three weeks straight. But Drew kept throwing them off. He insisted that Danny had gone to play by the train tracks and then he volunteered to cover this part of the forest. After Marty and Paul were found dead of the drug overdose, everybody just assumed they'd killed Danny. I knew Drew was involved. I just couldn't figure out how…and nobody would listen to a twelve year old."

Drew began to push himself up on all fours, his words slurring through his swollen lips and missing teeth. "You can't prove anything. Danny fell. I didn't push him, hell, I didn't even plan for that to happen. It was just dumb luck. I had only planned for Marty and Paul to beat him up a little. I even stopped them before they seriously hurt him. Danny's fall was just a fluke. I didn't kill him, I just didn't help. I left it up to him to get out."

Dean growled. "With a broken leg? Say what it is…you killed him."

The doctor gave a reflective laugh. "I never understood how he could be so blind to you. We'd be at little league, the whole freakin' town would be there, and there'd Danny be, frownin' into the crowd, looking for you. Every single freakin' time, he'd look for you. Every time we'd be on our way to the game he'd say, 'Maybe Drew'll be there this time. Maybe he'll get to see me make a save'. I never understood why he even cared."

Sam spoke for the deceased boy. "Because Drew was his big brother. He wanted Drew to be proud of him."

The physician shook his head. "He didn't need Drew to be proud. The whole damn town was proud."

Sam nodded. "It's not the same, what his brother thought meant more."

Drew laughed, pushing himself into a standing position. "As though I'd waste even more of my time going to see one of his stupid baseball games."

Dean glared and stuck out his hand, palm up. "Sam, give me the gun."

Sam rolled his eyes, keeping the gun trained on Drew. Drew spit blood onto the ground before looking at Sam. "You're not going to shoot me. If you wanted to kill me, you wouldn't have stopped him from doing it." He pointed at the doctor.

Sam nodded. "I may not be a cold-blooded killer, but you try anything- I'll shoot first, ask questions later."

Drew frowned and stepped back, clearly having lost some confidence. "Like I said before, you can't prove anything. In fact, I probably have more on you right now because my face…" he pointed to the doctor, "…and your knuckles will match up."

Dr. Hawthorne spoke with confidence. "You have a license to carry a gun then?"

That stopped Drew for a moment, but then he shrugged. "I'll just say that you and your two goons broke into my house, stole my gun, and dragged me out here at gunpoint. Everyone in this town knows that you blamed me. I'll just say that you found Danny's body and snapped."

Dean blinked at his brother. "Dude, did he just call us goons?"

Sam looked serious. "Yeah. I think he did."

Dean nodded. "Seriously Sam, give me the gun."

Sam shook his head. Suddenly, a large white mist appeared to the left Sam's left. Not willing to make the same mistake as Drew, Sam kept his eyes, and gun, on his enemy. However, out of the corner of his vision, he saw the mist divide into two shapes- gradually taking the form of two skinny, long-haired teenage boys. Next to him, he heard his brother groan. "You've got to be freakin' kidding me."

Sam, his focus on Drew, spoke to his brother. "I've got some salt in my coat pocket."

Dean waved him off. "I got it…" He unstrapped a short barrel shotgun from his back. "Sam, we're gonna discuss you comin' here with no weapons later…"

Sam whispered back hastily. "I was coming from the hospital, Dean. Where the hell was I gonna get a shotgun? I'm lucky I found any salt."

Dean growled something in return and pumped his shotgun, aiming it at the ghosts. As soon as they materialized, Dean fired a round at one, and then the other. Instantly, both ghosts disappeared.

"What the hell?" Both Drew and Dr. Hawthorne appeared disturbed by the apparitions, not that Sam would've expected any less.

"Shit!" Sam flicked his eyes to his brother as Dean cursed at the shotgun. "Shit!"

Sam raised his brows. "Problem, man?"

Dean scowled, looking up. "I only got two rounds left."

Sam sighed. Two more shots wouldn't protect them until they got out of the forest. A sudden flare up his arm caused Sam to grimace, his gun wavering. The adrenaline from Drew's sudden appearance was wearing off and his arm was once again overtaking all of his attention. Sweat pooled on his lower back and forehead. He could feel the physician's eyes evaluating him as Dean scanned the area, gun at the ready.

Suddenly the doctor was next to him, taking his pulse. Sam tried to shake the man off; it'd be harder to aim and shoot the gun with someone holding his wrist, but the doctor's grip held firm. Thankfully, Drew didn't make any moves for the gun, not that in his current condition he could have done much anyway…

Finally, Dr. Hawthorne released the wrist. "You need to be back in the hospital."

Immediately, Dean's attention returned to his brother. "What's wrong?"

The doctor turned. "He's re-entering shock."

Dean shook his head, growling under his breath. "Damnit, Sam."

For his part, Sam just ignored both men and concentrated on watching Drew while breathing through the pain. A flare of sharp white pain shot up his arm and through his shoulder and Sam gasped. Briefly, he tried to reposition his arm, to see if that would help, but nothing changed. Finally, he sent a hesitant smile towards the doc. "I don't suppose you have any painkillers on you?"

The man gave Sam a sarcastic, annoyed, smile. "They don't really like it when we take pain killers and sedatives out with us. They prefer it if the controlled substances stay in the hospital. Though, there are probably some in the ambulance you stole."

Dean whirled around. "Dude, you stole an ambulance?!"

Sam shrugged. "It was the closest available vehicle."

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, now focusing his attention on the white clouds appearing behind the bloody chemist. Not knowing what was happening behind him, the bruised man held up his hands in fear. "Now, now, wait a minute. Don't, don't shoot me…"

One form became clear and Dean fired. Drew squeeked, putting his hands over his head. What that was supposed to do against a theoretical bullet, Sam didn't know. The other ghost became visible and Dean fired his last shot. The spirit disappeared and the smell of urine filled the air. Sam looked down at the whimpering man's crotch…he had known it was only a matter of time…

The doctor stared in disgust. "You're pathetic. I hope to God you rot in Hell."

Sam agreed. If his father was there, then this piece of shit definitely belonged there. Sam lowered his gun. His arm was killing him, and Drew didn't appear to be much of a threat at this point. Closing his eyes, Sam gasped at the pain. There was motion to his right as someone tried to take the gun from his hand. At the same time, there was movement toward the bottom of his jacket. Before he could open his eyes, Dean's voice was in his ear. "Which pocket is the salt in?"

Sam released the gun to his brother and lifted his eyelids. "Uh…" he coughed, "the, the right one."

Dean nodded and fished through Sam's pocket for the salt. Upon finding it, Dean handed his brother half and took the other for himself. He turned to the doctor. "If I give you the gun, can you keep an eye on him without shooting him?"

Dr. Hawthorne squinted, seriously considering the question, before nodding. Dean thrusted the gun into the man's hands.

Drew turned to the three, barely able to speak through his damaged mouth. "What's going on?"

Sam cleared his throat. "Ghosts."

Drew laughed. "That's ridiculous. There's no such thing." Waving the brothers off, Drew turned- right into the face of dead teenager. Immediately, the man let out a scream, which was cut off by the hand of the ghost around his neck. For a moment, the ghost just stood, squeezing as Drew was slowly lifted off the ground by his throat. Drew kicked and gasped, his eyes bulging in pain and fear. And then he flew, having been thrown ten feet through the air, and landed at the doctor's feet.

The ghost stared on from ten feet away, turning and smiling as his dead friend appeared next to him. The doctor squinted trying to make out their transparent faces in the moonlight. His brows raised as recognition dawned. "Marty? Paul?"

But the spirits ignored the physician, instead focusing on the man gasping on the ground. One of the ghosts spoke with an evil, whispered, hiss. "We've been waiting…"

The other smiled as he stepped forward. "All of us were waiting for you…"

The first ghost flew over, lifting the frightened man into a standing position. "You didn't come back. Little brother thought you would…"

The second apparition appeared behind Drew, smelling up the back of the man's neck, whispering in his ear. "That was some good shit you gave us…"

Drew whimpered. The first spirit moved in, his face, inches from the chemist's bloodied, cringing one. "You know what happens when you do coke and it's pure?"

The man whispered his hesitant defense. "I thought purer was better…a better hit for you."

"LIAR!" The second ghost's scream echoed through the forest as the apparition vanished reappearing in back of his friend.

The first spirit smirked. "You know what happens when people who kill their little brothers die?"

The spirits screeched and disappeared as Sam's salt hit their space. Drew began to cry and Sam forced himself to look away, unable to face the pitiful man that had murdered his adoring younger brother. Being in the same familial position, Sam sympathized with Danny and the feelings warred within him. Drew had betrayed his brother in the worst possible way, but given how much Danny had looked up to him, how much Danny cared about him, Sam knew the boy would've been heartbroken to see his evil brother suffering like this. Sam turned to his own brother. "Dean, we need to get him out of here."

Dean gave Sam a disagreeing look, but then dropped it upon seeing Sam's expression. Swallowing, Dean nodded and grabbed the chemist's shoulders. "Come on, asshole."

They made it five feet before Dean was lifted off the ground and sent flying into a nearby tree. Sam tracked his brother's flight, wincing in sympathy as Dean hit the ground. "Dean!"

A high-pitched scream behind him had Sam spinning in a circle, his attention shifting back to Drew. The pale chemist was cornered, a ghost on either side, the cliff at his back. The blood caked on his swollen face, his urine soaked khakis sticking to his skinny legs. Slowly, with sneering faces, the ghosts walked forward, and in turn, Drew walked back. Not having any way to help the man (Dean had the last of the salt), Sam ran over to help his brother. The doctor followed.

Dean was lying still on his side, but thankfully, his eyes were open. Given the way he had hit the tree and was now struggling for breath, Sam figured his brother had gotten the wind knocked out of him. Putting a hand on Dean's back to reassure himself of Dean's breathing, Sam looked to the doctor. "Can you look after him for a sec?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw his brother's face scrunch in annoyance, obviously in disagreement about needing to be 'looked after'. But seeing as how Dean was still having difficulty drawing breath, he really didn't have much to say…literally.

Dr. Hawthorne nodded and Sam returned the gesture. Then he pried open his brother's still clenched fist and took the salt. Summoning strength that he truly no longer had, Sam stood up and began moving toward the ghosts. A worry passed through his mind- if he was sent flying into a tree right now and his arm hit, he'd be screwed. But there was no time for hesitation; Drew's worthless life depended on him.

He was only five feet from the spirits when Drew stepped back one stride too far. Sam watched the shock and fear cover the man's face as his right foot met with air and his body tumbled backwards. For a moment, it all happened in slow motion. Drew's arms flailed as he tried to regain his balance and flap his way back onto the cliff, but in that last step, he had leaned back to far and there was no way he'd be able to stop the fall- and no way Sam would be able to reach him in time.

Sam watched as the chemist's head fell back, his swollen eyes wide with fear, his broken mouth in an "o" shape. The head, neck, and chest went first and the man's legs seemed to fall after…and then Drew was gone, having fallen head over heals off of the same embankment that had taken his brother.

The ghosts turned and Sam slid to a stop, his right hand clenching around the salt. For a moment they all stood, staring at each other, in a hunter/spirit face-off. Then, one of the ghosts, called over to the doctor in a hissing, whispered voice. "We beat him up by the train tracks, not here. We never chased…"

Then the other spoke. "He made sure we got blamed; he was trying to scare the boy…telling him they were being chased…we never chased."

The first apparition spoke again. "We would've told…we would've helped."

"We were bad…" The second ghost looked down over the edge of the cliff. "…we weren't evil."

Dr. Hawthorne nodded. "I never thought it was you. I'll take care of it."

The spirits looked serious. "We take life now…not then. Make sure they know…not then."

Again the doctor nodded.

Suddenly, a light filled the area and Sam had to use his arm to shield his eyes from being blinded. An instant later, the light and the spirits were gone.

Dean stood up with an angry grunt. "Sure…they freakin' get into the light."

Sam wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to his brother. "It's not our decision what happens after they move on, Dean. Are you okay?"

Dean rolled his eyes and winced, rubbing a particularly sore spot on his back. "I'm fine, dude."

The doctor sighed as all three approached the edge of the embankment. "It would be very fitting if we found him down there with a broken leg. Then he could know what it was like for Danny."

Dean shook his head with a regretful sigh. "Nah he wouldn't."

Dr. Hawthorne looked confused and Sam explained his brother's reluctant comment. "Danny…he was left there to die. Drew wouldn't be."

The physician bit his lip in annoyance, obviously in disagreement with the brothers position on the matter, but then nodded as he peered over the edge. "Luckily, that looks like it'll be a moot point."

Drew laid at the bottom of the cliff, ass in the air, head on the ground. His neck was bent at an odd angle and his eyes were open. There was no disputing it- the man had broken his neck.

Dean growled at the corpse. "Bastard got off easy."

Sam sighed; at least it was all over. And it was good timing. Sam's vision swam as the pain in arm throbbed in time with his pulse. The nausea was back and he felt as though he was back at last night…only more drained, and more depressed. With a groan, Sam strained, reaching his arm out over Drew's body. Careful to maintain his balance, he released the salt and watched as it descended, landing scattered on the dead chemist.

Then he turned to his brother, who was searching for the lighter fluid. "Dean, after this, we should bury Danny with his family."

Dean paused in his actions to glance over and agree. Biting his lip, Sam added a second opinion. "Dean?" Dean looked up, appearing somewhat annoyed to be interrupted again, and Sam continued. "Drew should be buried there too."

Dean seemed ready to argue, but the doctor beat him to it. "No, that asshole needs to stay here."

Dean raised his brows and nodded. "I agree with the good doc. Sorry man, but that piece of shit doesn't deserve to be buried."

Sam shook his head, whispering through the pain. "It's not about Drew. Danny loved his brother and Danny would want to be buried with him. It's about Danny."

Neither Dr. Hawthorne, nor Dean responded and Sam gasped as his vision began to fade. Fear startled through him as he realized he was about to pass out and he was standing on the edge of a cliff. The blackness swept over him suddenly and his knees bent. Falling forward into the embankment, Sam forced out a barely audible, "Dean!" and then there was nothing.

I'm not sure if I should do a sixth chapter or an epilogue (much later in the timeline). I'm open to your opinions. As always, please review- I LOVE to get your feedback. And once again- sorry about not finishing it...