The title and lyrics are by The Eagles. I don't own anything from Supernatural or the song.
Somebody
There's a jack-o-lantern moon,
in the midnight sky.
Somebody's gonna live and somebody's gonna die.
But down in the graveyard
On an old tombstone.
There's a big black crow
And it's calling you home.
The Eagles
Dean stepped out of the Impala and closed the door with a creak. He looked around uncomfortably. The wind whispered through the trees, more like words than he had ever heard before. Or, one word.
"No!"
Spoken in despair.
He shook his head. The lack of sleep was catching up with him. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched. He grabbed a shotgun and stuffed his pockets full of salt rounds. Just in case.
He put the shotgun on the roof of the Impala and pulled the door open.
"Time to go, Sammy," he whispered. As gently as he could, he pulled his brother's body out of the car and hoisted him onto his shoulders. With one hand he steadied the dead weight and with the other he grabbed the shotgun from the roof of the car. With slow steps he walked to the entrance of the small graveyard. Sam Winchester's final resting place.
Sam ran to catch up with his brother. Or ran… did ghosts run?
Anyway… he tried to catch up with his brother who was already halfway across the graveyard. He was bent under the weight of what Sam knew to be his own body.
Yeah… don't think about that one too hard…
Dean was plodding across the graveyard, ready to set fire to his burden. But Sam couldn't let that happen.
"Dean!"
His brother raised his head and his shotgun simultaneously.
Crap.
Sam dived out of the way, nut no shot rang out. Dean just stared in his general direction.
He can't see me.
That was just unbelievable. How was he supposed to stop his brother when he was invisible?
Something caught his eye. On top of an old tombstone a crow was staring at him. It was completely still, it's black feathers nearly translucent. It's tiny eyes shone red. The animal flapped his wings. The graveyard around him grew cold, darkness quickly replacing the twilight. The crow flickered slightly and crowed. The sound echoed unnaturally over the graveyard.
Sam stood frozen to the spot, staring at the ghostly animal. Dean raised his shotgun again, like he had heard something. After a few seconds dropped down on his knees and lowered his burden to the ground. Sam tore his eyes away from the ghostly crow, but before he could move towards his brother a shadowy figure slowly rose from the old grave. It's eyes slid over Sam and he shivered. This was not like any spirit he had ever seen before. And he had seen plenty. This one was… older somehow. It turned away from Sam and fixed it's eyes on Dean.
"Hunter," it whispered.
Dean struggled to hold his shotgun steady with Sam's weight on his shoulders. Something was wrong. He hadn't slept in days and he had spent all that time grieving over his brother. He was practically asleep on his feet.
But he knew something was wrong. Horribly wrong. The air grew cold and heavy around him, unnatural gloom taking the twilight away. Slowly, he sat down on his knees and gently lowered his brother to the ground.
"Sorry Sammy," he muttered.
He stood up and raised his shotgun again, alarms ringing in his head. There was noting to see, nothing out of the ordinary. Still, he knew something wasn't right. You didn't survive long as a hunter without a decent instinct. And right now his was working overtime.
The smell of ozone filled the air. He swore under his breath. Not now…
"Hunter…"
A voice whispered through the trees, the word unmistakable. Dean swore again. How could he possibly defend himself if there was nothing to shoot at?
"Come out, you ugly son of a bitch!"
Nothing happened. If anything, the silence seemed to grow deeper, colder.
Suddenly, the air exploded around him. A scream tore through the air. And a very familiar voice reached his ears.
"Leave him alone!"
Even as he fell to the ground, he looked up to see were it had come from, searching for the face that belonged with that voice.
"Sam?"