Author's Notes: Here's chapter fifteen! I didn't realize it had been a week since I last updated. Oops. I'm trying to update with some kind of schedule, but, well, I guess I forgot. School's been busy and it's thrown me off! Anyway, here it is. Enjoy! And please don't forget to leave a review.

Sam felt lost amidst all of the cedars, birches and pines of the bog area. Despite his somewhat above average eyesight in the night, he could barely see but a couple of yards in front of him. Everywhere he tried to step, some kind of shrubbery blocked his way. Flowers, bushes, saplings…he began to wonder if this was a good idea.

Granted, despite all of this, he had managed to keep the lake in his sights. He barely ventured deeper into the bogs for fear that he would actually get completely lost. It was one thing to feel that way, but it was another to actually be lost.

As he stepped over a muddy patch, Sam clicked the walkie-talkie and said, "Dean. Come in, Dean. You there?"

A scratchy transmission occurred before Dean spoke. "Sam? Something up?"

"No, I was just checking to see if you had found anything. I've got nothing."

"Me, too, so far. But I'm moving deeper into the bog. God, my boots are fucking soaked…"

Sam tried to keep from laughing. He failed, but he at least managed to stifle it. Dean loved his boots, too, just like his car. This must have been killing him, walking around in a dirty, muddy and wet area. His brother's whining tone had given it away. "It's nearly one, Dean. We've been looking for a while. Think we should call it a night and come back tomorrow?"

"No." Dean coughed over the airwaves. "Let's give it a while longer. It might just be hiding. We'll get it."

"Okay. Over and out."

Sam put the walkie-talkie back into his jacket's breast pocket, looking carefully around him. There were multitudes of flowers, of plants…the view had to be amazing during the day. He had always loved nature. It was too bad that he had to see such an amazing place at night, when his vision wasn't as sharp.

There was, of course, one other way he could locate the creature if he wanted to. Sam knew that he could probably find it if he just closed his eyes and gave in to the powers within him. But he hadn't since having used them in the bar that night all that time ago. It wasn't for lack of wanting to. No, rather, it was from a lack of needing to. And that still bothered him a bit.

Would it be worth it to try it? he wondered. Or was it best to just let his hunting instincts take this one over? Both methods sounded decent.

In the end he settled for doing it the old fashioned way. Sam stomped through the bog, his booted feet squishing deep into the muddy ground. Where the hell was this thing? He was starting to get tired. He trudged on, however, going further, going deeper, until he could barely see the lake off in the distance anymore. He had gone against his judgment, but necessity dictated it.

Sam stared around him. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No glowing light. No weird feeling. No nothing.

Unsurprisingly, as he thought this, he heard the buzz of the walkie-talkie, soon followed by his brother's voice. "Let's call it a night, Sam. I can't find a thing. This damn creature's taking a break or something."

"Ten-four, good buddy," Sam said. He smiled. That amused him.

A pause.

Then, "Don't ever say that again, Sam."

. . .

"All right. We're gonna try this one more time. That damn creature better be out there, if it knows what's good for it."

Sam watched Dean almost prowl back and forth in their bedroom. He had his hands behind his back and his gaze focused sharply. The younger hunter hadn't seen his brother act like this in a while. It was almost…amusing, but at the same time, kind of scary. There was determination in Dean's eyes, along with something like desperation. It was an odd combination, particularly for the older one.

Getting up, Sam brushed his hands down his front. "We've got everything packed up in the car still. Let's get going."

After the lack of finding anything the night before, both Sam and Dean were going into this round with slight irritation. There was no way they had covered the entire park in that one night, and as such, it was possible that they had completely missed the Will-o-the-wisp's location. They would be going back again tonight to make sure that they found it and did it in once and for all. They had to prevent another disappearance—and possible death—from happening.

Both brothers headed down to the car just past eleven that night. The drive to the bog was quicker this time, and upon their arrival, they decided to part ways again. But this time around, they flipped positions. Now, Dean was taking the north side, and Sam, the south. This way, they could find more. Perhaps even things that the other missed.

"Walkie-talkie me if you find anything," Dean said before they split up.

"Count on it," Sam agreed.

The moon shone brightly above him, lighting the younger hunter's way through the beginning patches of bog. But the deeper he immersed himself the less and less he was able to use the moonlight as a means of guidance. The cedar and spruce trees that surrounded him had formed a slight canopy up above, blocking out the light. He began using his flashlight as a means of lighting his way.

Sam traveled through the bog for what felt like ever. But, it was no avail. There was no mysterious, eerie looking light in the distance. There was no sense of being ill at ease. All he felt was a difficulty in breathing, due to the thick, moist air of the bog. He lifted an arm up and tried breathing with his shirtsleeve covering his mouth. It worked, if just a little.

He glanced around him with care. Everywhere he shone his light had the potential to scare off the Will-o'-the-wisp, but even when he turned it off and waited for a few minutes, he found nothing. All he heard was the rustling of the animals in the trees and around him on the ground.

He pulled out his walkie-talkie and held it to his mouth. "Dean, I haven't found anything."

The return transmission came through garbled at first. "Sam—, here—bright—"

"Dean? I can't understand you."

A pause. Then, "Sorry, Sam. The trees might have caused some interference. I think it's here." He said, quieter this time, "There's a light just a ways in front of me. It's moving."

"All right, Dean, just stay there. Wait for me to come over there and I'll spot you so it can't cast its spell on you." When Dean gave him no response, Sam pressed it. "Dean."

"Yeah, yeah. All right. I'm not far from where we split up."

"See you soon."

"Over and out."

Turning around, Sam took a moment to backtrack mentally before actually retracing his steps. The wet, muddy ground beneath him squished and spurted as he walked over his trail. Thankfully, he hadn't taken too many turns, so it didn't take him long to find where he had initially entered the tree-covered area. When he emerged from it the moonlight washed over him, giving him an eerily pale glow.

Sam paused. Which way had he come from again?

Once he realized that he had pretty much run a straight line, the younger hunter picked up his backwards travel, heading toward where he and Dean had split up. It took him a few minutes to get there, but when he did, he started following his brother's footsteps as best he could.

But then he heard something garbled over the radio transmission.

"Holy shit…is that what I think it is…?"

Sam quickly grabbed hold of his walkie-talkie. "Dean! What's going on?"

No response. Dean murmured almost dreamily, "Man…all that…and nobody's found it…really…?"

"Dean!" Sam shouted.

Still no response.

Worried now, Sam picked up his pace, keeping his flashlight pointed downward to highlight his brother's path. He followed the thick, boot-shaped footprints, but the further he traveled, the more they seemed to lighten. Dean must have taken some of the weight off of his legs so as to keep quiet.

But that didn't explain why they suddenly stopped. Sam stopped too, looking around to make sure that he hadn't mistaken the direction somewhere behind him. But he hadn't. Dean's footprints just…disappeared.

Where the hell had they gone?

Sam willed himself to calm down. Dean was around here somewhere, he had to be. He closed his eyes and focused on what he could hear. Like before, he could hear the animals rustling around in the trees. He could hear the light breeze blowing through them. And then, something caught his attention. Something that sounded like water. He opened his eyes. Where had it come from?

He looked in front of him, to his left, to his right.

There.

Sam turned right and began jogging over the muddy ground, through the large collection of brush and shrubbery. He used his arms as a means of parting the shrubs' branches, but some still scratched his cheeks and his neck. His foot caught on a root, and he stumbled through the last of them, regaining his balance before nearly falling right onto the shore of the lake.

When he lifted his gaze, he saw his brother submerged in the water about ankle-deep. And in just a couple feet in front of him, there was an eerily glowing sphere of light. It hurt Sam's eyes, so bright as it was.

"Dean!" he called out to his brother. It was no use, however. Dean was caught under the Will-o'-the-wisp's spell. And if that walkie-talkie hit the water…his brother was gonna be electrocuted before he drowned because of the creature.

Sam fumbled with his own walkie-talkie, which he threw onto the ground beside him after fishing it from his pocket. He rolled up his sleeves, then worked quickly on undoing his boots. By the time he finished Dean was almost waist-deep in the water.

"Dean!"

He didn't even think as he rushed toward the water. It was thick and surprisingly cold against his feet, even with the warm, humid air around them. His socks and his lower pant legs were immediately drenched, but that didn't weigh him down. He dredged though the water toward his brother, using his physical core strength to keep him from falling under the surface.

Sam wondered briefly why he, too, wasn't falling under the control of Will-o'-the-wisp's spell. But all he knew was that he was going to take advantage of it, and was going to save his brother. He closed in on Dean in just under a minute—and when he did, he reached out, grabbing hold of Dean's shoulders to prevent him from moving any further.

"All that gold…God…"

Dean's voice sounded like that of a drone. And, not surprisingly, he attempted to break free of Sam's hold. But Sam kept it strong.

"Dean, snap out of it! You're gonna electrocute yourself!"

Wrapping one arm around Dean's waist, which submerged one of his arms underwater, Sam used his other to fish the walkie-talkie from his pocket. With the older one struggling against him, it proved difficult to smack the walkie-talkie against his own chest in order to pop the back off. After each smack Sam looked forward, seeing the Will-o'-the-wisp in the distance. It was keeping away, which was a smart move on its part.

By now Sam was beginning to shiver. The cold water had gotten to him and was cooling his body temperature. He smacked the walkie-talkie once more against his shoulder, but it wasn't working. He couldn't get the back off. So, feeling stupidly brave and unsure, Sam prepared to toss it like a baseball. When he did, he gave it all the force he could, and the walkie-talkie went flying through the air, landing in the water a long ways away with a loud splash.

Dean still struggled against him, but angrier now. Sam had unintentionally loosened his grip, and because of it, his brother broke free. He continued to walk forward, following the Will-o'-the-wisp further toward the center of the lake.

"Damn it, Dean, no!" Sam nearly growled.

He needed to kill the creature. But if he was going to do it the right way, he needed to take the knife and put it blade up in the dirt on the shore. By the time he did that, however, Dean would drown. He was already halfway in the lake. There just wasn't enough time for it.

Sam turned to look at the Will-o'-the-wisp. He wanted it gone…wanted it to die. But how? It had no neck to choke, no organs to crush. It was a spirit. It would take more than that. And all of the materials he had for killing a spirit were too far away.

He needed to listen to his instincts on this one. He closed his eyes. Suddenly, his arm lifted in the air. His hand extended, palm facing outward, and from it, Sam felt warmth. Soon the warmth grew to a heat. The heat grew hot. Before he knew what was happening, the heat had become blistering, almost unbearable.

And then it was gone.

Sam opened his eyes. In front of him, he saw the Will-o'-the-wisp's brightly glowing sphere of a body completely enveloped by orange and red flames. A high-pitched, wailing type of scream emitted from it, and it combusted. A brilliant flash of light turned into many little glowing specks, all of which scattered over the water's surface. They soon extinguished.

Dean, who was up to his neck in water now, gave a shake of his head and shuddered. "What the fuck?" he muttered. He began thrashing about. "Sam?!"

"I'm right here, Dean."

The older hunter turned around. His movement had sent waves through the water. "Sam, what the hell am I doing in the water?" He paused. "Did I…?"

"Yeah," Sam said hesitantly. "But you're okay now. I got it. The creature's gone."

Neither said a word after that. They waded through the water back to shore, where they shivered their way back to the impala. Although Dean was hesitant to let them inside, wet as they were, he had no choice. He muttered about it nearly the entire ride back to the bed and breakfast. By the end of it, Sam wanted to claw his eyes out.

"We'll buy new upholstery or something if it's that big of a deal," he grumbled irritably.

But Dean was having none of that. "Right now, all I care about is getting out of these wet clothes and into a nice, comfortable bed. You better not hog all the damn pillows, tonight, Sam. 'Cause if you do, I'm gonna—"

"You're gonna what?"

Dean pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows in such a way that said, "You don't want to find out". And, tired as he was, Sam didn't argue. No, he didn't want to find out. But he probably was going to anyways.

. . .

It was mid-morning the following day when Sam woke up. His face was half-buried against one of the extra-firm pillows, and moistness dribbled down the side of his mouth. He must have drooled a little in his sleep. He groaned, lifting a hand to his face and rubbing at his eye. When everything came into better focus, he realized that Dean wasn't lying there beside him.

He sat up slowly, looking around him. His brother wasn't anywhere in the room. That was when his hearing kicked in better, and the sound of the running shower caught his attention.

What time was it?

Sam fumbled sleepily with his phone. It was eleven-thirty. God, had he really slept that long?

The sun shone brightly in the sky, making the curtain that hung over the sliding glass door nearly see-through. The room was warm, but thankfully not too much so. He lowered himself back to the bed and rubbed his eyes again. The bed smelled more like Dean than it did him. For some reason, it was oddly comforting.

He lay there in silence for a few minutes, barely remaining awake. It wasn't until the water shut off in the bathroom that he sat up again. Sam scratched at his chest. A few moments later Dean emerged from the bathroom, steam billowing out behind his towel-clad form. The scars from the hellhound's claws had healed over nicely, but red marks still littered his brother's chest. They were, however, less noticeable because of the flushed color of Dean's skin.

Dean headed over to the bag of clothes. "Rise and shine, Sammy," he said, rummaging for some fresh pants and a shirt.

Sam ended up getting out of the bed and heading into the bathroom shortly after Dean exited it. After relieving himself he took a quick shower, just to wake up. He had already taken one last night to get rid of the nasty bog water. Several minutes later he, too, then emerged from the bathroom, heading toward the clothing bag.

As he dressed, he cast brief glances over at Dean, who was sitting on the bed and fidgeting with his pocketknife. He appeared deep in thought. Sam figured he had an idea of what it had to do with. But before he could say anything, his brother announced it for him.

"I failed. Again."

Already Sam could feel the need to soften the situation rising within him. He buttoned up his over shirt. "Dean, I—"

"Seriously, Sam, what's wrong with me?"

The look Dean gave him then struck Sam right in the heart. His eyes weren't wet, but it was obvious that they should have been. He was clearly fighting the urge. Dean's lips were pursed tightly and he furrowed his brow. Creases appeared in his forehead.

"First I can't fight some demons in a bar, and then I freak out on you while I'm sleeping, and now this. What's next? Am I gonna get my ass handed to me on a silver platter by some stupid poltergeist? Some demon? I keep having these horrible dreams about Hell, and they make me just…manic, and—" Dean sighed. "Fuck, Sam. It's all a little too much, sometimes."

Sam didn't know what to say. He opened his mouth, but then quickly closed it. Finally he managed to get out: "It probably caught you off guard, Dean. The Will-o'-the-wisp, I mean. They're sneaky creatures. And we knew there was danger involved for one of us."

"Yeah, but I should have been able to fight it. I could've before."

Dean looked away. Sam knew what he meant by 'before'—before he had gone to Hell. Before he had been subjected to torture worse than even the most twisted mind could imagine. Sam moved toward the bed and took a seat on it, but Dean continued to keep his gaze away from him.

"Dean," Sam began quietly.

Dean abruptly changed the subject. "We're gonna have to buy a new set of walkie-talkies."

"Yeah. But…that's okay. Better buying new ones than being electrocuted for old ones, right?" Sam sighed. Yet another moment spurned because of Dean not wanting to take it further.

"You're a dumbass." But the way the older Winchester said it was somewhere between amusement and frustration. "That kind of shock wouldn't have killed me. Besides, I don't think it would've been that bad at all."

"Better safe than sorry," Sam said. He tried not to get irritated by his brother's comment.

Finally Dean looked at him. "Yeah, well, maybe a shock would've done be some good, you know? Maybe it could've gotten rid of this damn haze in my head. Whatever's stopping me from being my old self again."

It was hard to disagree when the situation was put like that. Sam, as much as he wanted to convince himself otherwise, knew his brother wasn't—nor would he ever again completely be—normal. Dean may have been able to feign semblance of it, but being down in Hell had certainly changed him. And in some cases, it was obviously for the worse. What was there to do about it, though?

Dean and Sam were quiet for a while. The older one went back to fidgeting with his pocketknife while the younger lifted himself off the bed, collecting their dirty clothes. This was how they stayed for some time.

It was Dean who broke the silence. And, it was of course no surprise that he had changed the subject once more. "We need to hunt down these demons that got out of the Devil's Gate."

Sam didn't fail to notice his choice of words—'got out' versus the truth: 'you let out'. Still, he nodded. "There isn't much we can do until they start leaving signs. And the fact that they aren't is a very, very bad thing."

"No shit," Dean muttered. "I bet Lilith's got them on the lowdown so we can't find them. I really think we need to get Ruby's knife back. She hasn't…you know, come to talk to you lately, has she?"

"No. My guess is she's out there trying to find her knife, herself. And if she's having this much difficulty…" He trailed off. It couldn't mean anything good for them if Ruby couldn't find it.

Dean got up from the bed and folded his arms over his chest. "Well, it looks like we're gonna have to set a trap. Catch ourselves a demon. Interrogation time." Even though there was a smile on his face, Sam knew his brother was scared. He didn't know how he knew. He just did.

"Let's do it somewhere remote, then," Sam suggested. "Somewhere away from all these people. We don't want them getting caught in the crossfire."

Dean snorted. "You kidding, Sam? This place is perfect. Well, not this place exactly, but you know what I mean. This town. It's like…the damn boonies. Nobody is out here. We just gotta find ourselves a barn or something, and we could have a hay day." He laughed. "Haha. No pun intended."

"Funny." Sam knit his eyebrows in concern. There was clearly something wrong if the demons weren't coming to them…if they had to summon one just to make them show up. It didn't sit well in his stomach, this thought. But it was all they had at the moment. All they could do was hope that whatever demon they got, it wasn't one too powerful to handle.

Something inside of Sam bubbled up then—something like ease, or comfort. He suddenly didn't feel afraid. No, he felt no fear. Maybe a little anxiety, but not fear. Were these his demonic powers talking? How could he tell, anyway?

Whatever it was, and wherever it had come from, Sam tried his best to squish it. Cockiness was the last thing he needed to deal with right now.

"All right. So, in order to summon us a demon, we're gonna have to find a good place to do it. That can be our goal for the day. In a place like this, I bet it's pretty easy to find a barn. Even a shack would do. But we want a place with space so we can keep our distance from them." Dean scratched the tip of his nose. "We're gonna need some candles, too. And some other things. I think we've got them all in the trunk. If not, we'll have to find someplace where we can get them."

As was usual, when Dean began to talk about conjuring, he also began to pace back and forth.

To Sam's surprise, he said out of the blue, "No, I can just summon one with my powers."

It was out of his mouth before he even realized it. And he hadn't even thought it. But that something within him knew exactly what it was capable of. It wanted to express its capabilities.

Dean gave him a funny look. "You wanna just summon some demon all willy-nilly without the right ritual? Ha!" He snorted derisively. "Funny, Sam. Your wonky little powers might help us elsewhere, but here, no. We're gonna do it the way we know how. We don't wanna summon something we can't handle."

"I can handle it," Sam said, somewhat brusquely.

His tone made Dean stop pacing. He stepped closer to his younger brother. "We're gonna do it the normal way, Sam. We need all the control we can get here. I don't trust your powers to—"

But before Dean could continue, Sam blurted out, "Oh, so they're good enough to burn and explode a Will-o'-the-wisp, but they're not good enough to summon a demon?"

The older Winchester stared at him in disbelief. He scoffed. "Fine. You wanna do it your way, Sam, we'll do it your way. We'll do everything your way. Since you know exactly what it is you're doing, and are completely right. I'll just go along for the ride."

Sam suddenly felt awful. Whatever had happened inside of him had hit Dean's weak spot real quick, and he didn't like it at all. His muscles tightened and he felt adrenaline pumping through his system now at top speed. But he willed himself to calm down. With a softer tone, he said, "No, you're right. I'm sorry. I just…I dunno what that was."

"That was the demonic power inside of you, Sam, telling you to do whatever the fuck you want, and to not give a damn about who it hurts in the process." Dean sounded snappy. He looked irritable. "I told you. I'm still not okay with them." He paused. Then, "But there isn't much we can do about those now. Let's focus on summoning a demon so we can get some damn answers."

A swift moment was all it took for Dean to take control of the situation again. Sam realized that his brother felt threatened. Threatened by what was going on inside of him, and by what was going on inside Sam, himself, as well. Added to the stress of having become the Will-o'-the-wisp's mindless drone, it couldn't have done Dean well to hear his brother being insubordinate. And that was where the humanity in Sam took hold. His brother took himself and hunting very seriously. He was good at it. But he was rusty. Hell had weakened him. He needed to feel like he was capable of doing things again. Thus far, he hadn't been.

No wonder Dean felt the way he did. Sam would have, too, he thought to himself.

"I saw some farmlands on our way into town," Sam mentioned. "We could go back the way we came and see if we can't find an empty barn in those."

"Good idea. Let's get some breakfast and we'll go for it." Dean's voice was calm, if not a little rough, like it always was. He had quickly gone back to normal.

Everything had gone back to normal. Buried just beneath the surface, like always.

Sam watched him as he left the room, following soon behind him.