Author's Notes: Well, I survived the first week of classes. Nice. I've got five courses this term, so...we'll see how everything goes. I'm gonna keep updating this story about every five days with a new chapter, so keep that in mind :D Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the rest. Don't forget to review!

It had been about two weeks since Dean and Sam had left Bobby's house. And in that time, to their surprise, not much happened to them. They drove around from state to state, town to town, trying to find hints of supernatural occurrences. For them, that was usually pretty simple.

But now, it was almost as if everything was intentionally hiding from them. Any deaths they investigated were naturally caused. Any electrical interference was a power problem. What was stranger—no demon had set foot near them in any of that time.

Of course, neither of them knew why, exactly, this was. After all, the demons had been quite eager to attack them at the bar back in South Dakota. Sam thought that perhaps the reason why had to do specifically with what happened at the bar. He had exorcised nearly a dozen demons there, much like he had back in Colorado, back in the police station. And after that, things had been quiet for a while, too. It would make some sense.

Not that he was complaining. Things between him and Dean had been tense ever since their argument back in Bobby's house, and it was only after a fight that had turned physical not too long thereafter that they were finally able to get over what stuck between them. Sam still sported the black eye from that, though it had more or less faded by now. However, he wore it with comfort, knowing that because of it, Dean had finally been able to come to terms with the fact—or at least partially—that his brother now had stronger, better control over his psychic powers, and that those powers would come in handy when they had to deal with what lay ahead of them.

Sam hadn't had a chance to use his powers recently, however. With no demons chasing after them and no visions coming to him in his sleep, there was no reason to.

It was basically as if he and Dean were living a normal life again. Or rather, as normal a life as they could.

And neither of them was going to protest for the time being. For one, the weather was too hot. It was now early July, and their travels had led them deep into the south to Louisiana, after following a trail that had gone cold. The muggy, humid air of the state was enough to put both boys nearly out of commission.

In order to escape it they decided to stay indoors all day. Neither was stupid enough to try driving in the middle of the afternoon. Especially with the impala's A/C acting up as it had been over the past couple of days.

"God, it's so damn hot."

Dean tugged at his thin grey shirt, which clung to his moist skin. Even with the air conditioning in the room, the thick miasma hanging in the air made it hotter than it should have been. He draped himself over his single bed, eying the television across the room.

Sam ignored his brother's complaint. That was the fourth time within the hour that he had muttered something about the heat. But, since he insisted on wearing pants, a shirt and socks, the younger hunter figured he had no room to talk. He himself was clad only in his boxers and an A-shirt. And sure, he was still warm, but not enough to keep bringing it up. He was distracting himself in other ways. He had his laptop on in front of him on his own bed, resting on a serving platter that had come with their breakfast.

Originally the two of them had come down here toward the bogs of the south in order to investigate the disappearance of a young girl from her family and her hotel near one where she was staying. Given the lore related to bogs and creatures like Will-o'-the-wisps that haunted them, it had been his assumption that that was what they were dealing with. There had been others signs, as well—things that seemed to confirm Sam's suspicions.

But it had taken them at least a full day to drive down there, even with Dean's driving like a bat out of hell. And in that time, the girl had been discovered some ways away, completely fine. Sam only found that out upon their checking into a hotel room for the day and using their internet.

Dean had reamed him for not investigating it completely. Sam had yelled at him defensively. And now here they sat, with one watching television to pass the time and the other trying almost desperately to find something going on, just so that the heavy feeling of fear that something big was coming wouldn't weigh so heavily on his shoulders. That, and so that he also didn't feel guilty for having dragged them all the way down here.

At first nothing appeared in his searches. Like before, all newspaper and magazine articles he read online all had a severe lack of anything supernatural to them.

That was, until a feed on top of his browser updated itself a new article entitled: "Another Disappearance at Minnesota's Big Bog State Recreation Area". Furrowing his brow slightly, he tapped on his touch pad and brought the article up, reading the first words quietly aloud to himself:

"Police have reported yet another disappearance at Minnesota's famous bog site that occurred just two nights ago…"

As he continued reading, Sam learned that there had been three unexplained, unsolved disappearances at the bog site since the beginning of June. That set off alarms in his head. This is what he should have gone after. This would have made more sense. How he had missed it, he didn't know. But there had to be something going on up there.

"Dean."

The older Winchester, nursing a bottle of water, turned his head toward his brother. The bottle popped and cracked as he pulled it from his mouth. "What?"

"I think I found us something."

"What."

It didn't even sound like a question. Sam supposed he couldn't blame him. Dean didn't like the heat, nor did he do well with it. And after the goose chase, it would make sense for him to be wary of a possible lead.

"There's been three disappearances over the last month or so at this huge bog park in Minnesota."

"So you're thinking it's some spirit again, is that it?" Dean asked. He didn't sound as irritated as before, and in fact he shifted on the bed, moving to sit with his legs draped over the side. "How can you be sure?"

"That's what I'm thinking, yeah. All three of the disappearances have yet to be solved. No bodies found, nothing."

"And it started in June."

"Right."

"Well, that's better than a few days, at least." Dean grunted lightly and stood. He moved in closer to Sam so he could take a peek at the screen.

"Says here all three people were by themselves, too. That's a big marker."

"You thinking it's another Will-o'-the-wisp then? 'Cause I'm not driving all the way to freaking Minnesota if there's nothing out there. That's a long ass drive."

"It's better than sitting here in the heat and melting to death, isn't it?" Sam asked somewhat tersely.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Ugh. If we're leaving tonight, I need to go check and see what's going on with the A/C in my baby and make sure it's nothing too serious."

Sam refrained from making a joke about Dean's precious baby, and instead dragged the mouse further down the page so that he could see more of what was written. "The address of the place should be easy to find. And since we're in Louisiana it's pretty much a straight drive north. Shouldn't take us more than a day if we rush."

"We're not rushing anywhere until I get her checked out, so let's just take it one step at a time." The older Winchester tugged at the hem of his shirt again before wandering over toward the air conditioner. The humming sound of the fan grew louder as Dean all but pressed himself against it. A relieved look took over his face.

"Dude, that's sick." Sam shook his head. "I don't want my cold air getting infected with your nasty B.O."

"Sorry, Sammy. Can't hear you. M'cooling off."

Sam looked at his brother almost incredulously, but then realized that it was no use. Dean wasn't going to move unless he wanted to, and until that time, all the younger one could do was wait and gather more information.

So that was exactly what he did.

Right after throwing one of his shoes at his brother.

. . .

"You have got to be kidding me…"

As they drove deeper into the small—almost desolately small—town, Sam soon understood why his brother was grunting in disbelief. Although they had read that Waskish, Minnesota was a tiny township, the truth of the matter was that it couldn't have been any bigger than a large neighborhood. On top of that, it seemed completely dead. Nobody was anywhere. Not in the streets, not along the roads, or even outside their homes. The entire town felt void of people.

They had come off the interstate not too long ago, heading toward the Big Bog State Recreation Area. Their reason for driving through the city was because they needed gas and a place to set up camp. But where the hell was the gas station in a town like this? Sam wondered, let alone a place to stay? Not only that, but if they managed to find either, would anyone even be there?

"You'd think there'd be a gas station right off the main road into the town," Dean muttered. "If you could even call this place that."

Sam didn't respond verbally. He just gave an agreeing nod. His focus was on the town outside. They were barely driving twenty-five miles an hour, and yet everything seemed to go past in a flash. He almost missed the sight of the service station.

"Dean, stop!"

The car gave a sudden jerk as Dean pushed on the brake.

"The gas station's just over there."

When they pulled up to the single-stand station, both Dean and Sam looked around them. Finally, the first person they had seen since entering the town emerged from the little shack just a few yards from the service stand. He was a middle-aged man with a large, protruding belly and a several days-old brown beard. He seemed nice enough.

"Come to fill 'er up?" he asked genially, coming to rest his hand against the upper rim of the driver's side window.

Dean gave him a look, as if sizing him up. Then he nodded, pulling out one of their dozens of credit cards and extending it to the guy to take. "Yeah, if you could. Premium." He flashed one of his patented Dean Winchester grins to his brother. "Only the best for my baby."

"And Taco Bell for you," Sam jeered with a faint smirk.

They sat in silence while waiting for the car to fill up. But as the man came to give Dean his receipt, he asked, "So what brings you boys to our little town? You headin' up to see the Big Bog?"

"Actually, yeah," Sam said, smiling. "We wanted to check it out. You don't happen to know if you can camp out there, do you?"

"Don't think so," the man said. His tone rang with uncertainty. "But there's a bed and breakfast here in town where you can stay. Polly and Brian could probably use the money. Business has been slow ever since those disappearances up there. Best be careful, huh?"

The mentioning of the disappearances made Sam wonder why there weren't more police around the area, or reporters. This was the closest town to the site, so surely it would have made sense to have them in the vicinity. From what Sam could see, however, they were the only ones driving around. This was eerie. It had been some time since he and Dean had come across a town so…remote.

To his surprise, his brother asked, "So where's this B&B?"

It seemed to surprise the man as well. "Oh! Well, you just keep goin' down this road here, then take a left at the four-way stop down the way. It's the only one over the next few blocks, so you can't miss it. They've got a sign posted on their lawn outside that says 'bed and breakfast'."

Sam and Dean shared a look before turning to thank the man for the help. Dean kicked the ignition into gear and they were back driving on the road.

"How far is the park from here again?"

"Dunno," Sam said. "Shouldn't be bad, though. We should take a break, since we drove all morning."

A glance at his watch told Sam that it was a quarter past four in the afternoon. They had stopped back in Iowa around Mason City to rest for the night on their trip through, and had left there somewhere around eight that morning. Sam's butt was killing him, and his legs felt cramped up. Dean had insisted on only making one pit stop the entire way through.

They eventually pulled into the driveway of the bed and breakfast. It had a quaint look about it, much like a country farmhouse did. The main building itself was on the bottom right-hand side of the property, near which a large wheat field extended, both to the left and behind it. A large cedar tree spread out over the property and partially over the garage of the inn. Combined with the well-trimmed lawn and the variety of pretty flowers that lined the front of the wooden porch, Sam felt oddly comfortable with the environment. Like he belonged here.

When he got out of the car he stretched his legs, his arms and even his back. Every bone in his body gave some sort of cracking noise as they shifted back into their proper place. Sam grunted. The heat was surprisingly bearable. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought it was somewhere in the upper 70s. And the humidity level was so much more bearable than back down in Louisiana. It was a very welcome change.

"Let's go," Dean said, tugging out their travel bag full of their necessary items from the trunk. He lugged it along with them as they stepped along the cobblestone pathway leading up to the porch. The front door was adorned with a large piece of ornately decorated glass, shaped like an oval. A thick brass band surrounded the glass.

The inside of the bed and breakfast had that same quaint feeling to it that put Sam instantly more at ease. One could tell it had been redecorated so there was a larger entryway, and directly across from the front door was a counter made out of cherry wood. Most of the wooden furniture in the house seemed to be made from cherry wood, Sam surmised.

Dean rang the little silver bell on the countertop. A few moments later, a somewhat thin woman with shoulder-length, silvery blond hair approached them. She had a kind smile on her face, one that even reached her eyes, which sat behind thin-framed black glasses.

"Good afternoon, boys, how can I help you?"

"We'd like to rent one of your rooms," Sam explained. "The guy at the gas station, he said that you ran a pretty good bed and breakfast. You must be Polly."

"That I am," Polly said cheerfully. She moved closer to them, still behind the counter. She began to fidget with a leather-bound book in front of her. "I can always count on John to send business our way. It's been kinda slow, lately, which is surprising, since we usually have at least a few guests during the summer. Right now, there's only one other couple here."

"Oh, we're not a couple," Sam said.

"Nonsense." Dean, having put the bag on the floor, moved in close to Sam then and ruffled up his long hair. He grinned cheekily. "My little Sammy sure does love telling jokes."

Like Sam, Polly looked and obviously felt mildly uncomfortable. But she said nothing of it, and instead chuckled. "Well, there're three rooms available: two on the second floor, and one on the main floor. Would you like to check them out, see if any suit you best?"

"No, no." Dean shook his head. "It's okay. Just put us in whichever room will give us a good look over the fields out back. Those are gorgeous."

"All right." Polly smiled, then scribbled something in her book and looked up at Dean. "We charge by the night, so if you happen to have your card on you…"

While his brother fidgeted for his card, Sam took the time to glance around the inn with more scrutiny than before. To the right of the counter along nearly the entirety of the wall was a large staircase. To the left, Sam could see through an archway that led to what looked like a sitting area, complete with comfortable armchairs and sofas, as well as a fireplace and a many gallon fish tank. Through another archway in that room leading further back into the house must have been the dining room, because he saw a long table surrounded by chairs, and above which hung a somewhat decorative chandelier.

They really took pride in their place, Sam thought.

"You ready, honey?"

Dean's voice caught his attention. He refrained from shooting his brother a dirty look. Why he was pretending they were a couple, Sam didn't know. Of all the things to choose, why that? He would ask later.

"Yeah."

"Enjoy your stay. Dinner is at seven tonight and goes until nine," Polly told them.

Sam followed Dean up the stairs, trying not to mess up the long rug that ran down the length of them. They reached the landing and headed left, down a somewhat narrow hallway complete with photographs and light fixtures hanging on the wall. Dean guided them to a room at the end of the hallway, slipping the key in and stepping inside.

The room had the same feel as the rest of the house. It wasn't very large, around thirteen by thirteen feet, with a queen-size positioned against the middle of the right wall. Across from the bed was a dresser also made from cherry wood, atop which sat a small, fifteen-inch television set. There were portraits on the walls of the surrounding area outside. Along the wall across from the door entry was a sliding glass door that led to an outside patio. The curtains were tugged to the side so that the sunlight could pour in. Thankfully, the sliding glass door faced the east. Directly above them was the sun, which wouldn't blind them.

The younger hunter headed toward the bed and took a seat. It shifted and squeaked thanks to his weight.

"You wanna tell me why we're a couple now?" Sam asked dryly.

"We gotta have some kind of cover, don't we?" Dean placed their bag beside the dresser, then sifted through it as if to look for something. He resurfaced a few seconds later with nothing in his hands. "Better safe than sorry."

"But a couple?"

Dean sounded agitated. "Sorry, Sam, it was the best I could come up with, all right?"

Sam let it drop. It wasn't like they had to kiss, or hold hands, or anything. There were couples that didn't do that in public. Besides, they wouldn't be staying long. Only as long as it took to figure out what was going on with the disappearances. There wasn't any need to even show they were a 'couple'.

"We should get some sleep now so we're prepared to deal with this thing tonight."

"Not a bad idea, Dean. But I'm not sharing a bed with you."

"Consider it payback for telling me I've got B.O. and for dragging me all the way out here," Dean said, looking sadistically pleased with himself. He moved close to the bed, dropping himself onto it. He stared up at his brother.

Sam groaned.

. . .

The sound of crickets chirping outside filled the small, cozy room. Sam had opened the sliding glass door slightly before they went to sleep so that a breeze could travel in and out. The room, although comfortable enough, didn't have air conditioning, and he didn't want it to get stuffy. He was sleeping peacefully when the sudden feeling of an arm coming in contact with his stomach knocked him right out of it. His eyes shot open and he looked down at his midsection. Dean's arm was draped across it, and his hand was balled into a fist.

"No…no, not…just…please…"

Dean quickly tugged his arm back as he rolled over onto his side, away from Sam. The younger one, now more awake, sat up and stared down at his brother. Dean's muscles were tense beneath his shirt, and he was curled up in a near fetal position. Whatever he was experiencing, it was getting to him badly. Was this another one of his nightmares? Sam wondered.

The older Winchester's voice became stiffer, and he grunted. "No more…no more…"

Sam furrowed his brow. Waking Dean up from his nightmare seemed like the smartest choice, but he remembered reading that doing so could cause severe repercussions. His brother was normal again for the most part, and he didn't want to set him back. He didn't want to make him have to go through everything again. But he sat there, watching the other twist, turn and groan, sounding like he was being tortured.

"I—I—I don't want that, no! I don't want that in me again, no! NO!"

Dean's sudden shouts clouded Sam's mind. His worry was getting the best of him. The other was nearly thrashing now, and he rolled over onto his back. Sam finally saw his face. His eyes were clenched shut, as was his mouth. His entire expression was contorted with pain.

"Dean," Sam called out, softly at first. When his brother didn't respond, he said it louder. "Dean."

"No! No, no, no! NO!"

"Dean!"

Despite his better judgment Sam reached out then and began to gently shake him. It seemed to agitate the older one, but after a minute his eyes shot open and he looked at Sam almost angrily. Before Sam knew what was happening Dean was growling and coming at him. He pinned him down against the bed with surprising strength. Though dazed and confused, Sam could feel the strong, rough hands around the base of his neck. They cut off the air supply to his lungs. His brother hovered over him.

"Dean," Sam choked out. "Dean…it's Sam." He tried to grip hold of his brother's wrists to pull him off, but his strength leaked from him like blood from an open gash.

"You fucking demon," Dean spat. He tightened his grip.

Sam coughed. The look in his brother's eyes was manic—completely insane. He tried saying Dean's name again but it came out like a puff of stiff air. He slowly blinked his eyes. He had to convince him of who it was. He had to, somehow.

Suddenly he felt the grip loosening around his neck. Soon air was filling his lungs—warm, fabulous air. Sam coughed violently for a few moments and clutched his throat gently, during which time Dean moved off of him and returned to his side of the bed.

"Sammy, I'm sorry," he began muttering like a chastised child. "God, Sammy…I'm sorry…"

It scared Sam when his brother got like this. Every nightmare reduced Dean to a sobbing mess. He had no right to get mad over it, but sometimes he wanted to. Sometimes, he wanted to tell his brother to toughen up and move on.

And that was when Sam got mad at himself. That was their dad talking, not him. Whether he liked it or not, parts of John lay inside him. And those parts sometimes made him think and say stupid things.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam murmured somewhat hoarsely. But really, it wasn't. It wasn't okay.

The two sat in silence for a while. Dean eventually looked back over at Sam, the fear fading from his eyes and the hardened expression he usually wore returned. He swallowed a little roughly and rubbed at right eye.

"What time is it?"

Sam grabbed his phone from the nightstand to check. "It's…five till eleven."

"Good. Come on, let's get going."

Having slept in their regular clothes, Sam and Dean didn't have to do much to get ready to leave in terms of dressing. But they had to snag a few things from the bag they had brought up with them—things that would help them in their travels into the bogs. If they truly were going up against a Will-o'-the-wisp, then they needed to be prepared for it. Lore dictated that they would have to split up, given the creature's affinity to picking on one person at a time. Thus, they would take along walkie-talkies. They both needed a blade, partially for protection and partially because it would ultimately be what put the Will-o'-the-wisp asunder.

Once they were all packed up, Dean and Sam carefully and quietly slipped out of the bed and breakfast and into the impala. Although its engine rumbled somewhat loudly, Dean refrained from roaring it like he usually did, so as to not wake up everyone in the building. Soon they were on the road again, heading toward the bog.

Neither one mentioned what happened back in the room, but it plagued Sam's mind. Dean had looked so angry, so upset…but worst of all, so manic. Like he wasn't himself at all. And the way he grabbed at Sam, choking him so furiously. That was the worst the younger hunter had ever seen his brother. There was no doubt that Dean was thinking about it, too. Sam could see it in the way the other tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and in the way that his leg shook nervously.

That hadn't been Dean at all. Or at least, not the Dean that Sam knew.

The trip to the bogs took longer than either expected. When they arrived, Dean parked on the outskirts and locked up the impala, pocketing his keys. He looked at Sam.

"All right. We've got our walkie-talkies, blades, flashlights, phones…think we're good to go?"

Sam patted himself down. "I think we're good, yeah. So…I take the north side, you take the south side? Got your compass?"

"Right here." Dean pulled out his compass, moving around until he was facing south. He turned his head Sam. "Okay. Ready to go. You see anything, you give me a buzz."

"Likewise."

"Let's get going."