Dean shifted and forced himself to sit up a bit, rubbing his eyes, "You find a place with good pie?"

"Ghostfacers are in town," Sam told him, flatly. Dean cracked open an eye and looked at him with furrowed brows. "They're holding some kind of ghost hunting convention."

"And you know all this how?"

"Because I stopped and got us the last room left in the entire town, and got the run-down from the guy at the front desk," Sam told him. Dean's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, accepting the answer. "They're gonna try and hunt a ghost."

"Yeah, well that's typically how they work," Dean replied.

"Only, I think there might be something behind this legendary ghost," Sam added, started the car. "So, while you grab something to eat, I'm gonna head over to the library, and then meet up with you at the diner."

"Diner?" Dean sounded hopeful.

"Yeah, it's right next to the hotel. So if you get done before I get back, just bring me back something to the room and I'll meet you there. In fact, here," he handed him the room key. "Don't lose it."

"Don't... Of course I'm not gonna lose it!" Dean retorted, offended. "What do you think I am, a child?" Sam shrugged, as he pulled the car up in front of the diner. Dean looked out the window, up at the sign in front of the eatery. His face brightened. "They do have pie! Best pie in the state, it says, Sammy!" he glanced happily at Sam's reflection in the rear view. Sam was smirking, and the smile quickly faded from Dean's face. "Shut up," he gruffly stated, before letting himself out of the car. "Don't take too long."

"Shouldn't take that long," Sam replied, waiting for Dean to enter the diner, before pulling away...

..

The diner, though clean and inviting, didn't hold Dean's interest enough to eat there. He placed an order to go, for himself and Sam, and headed over to the hotel room, once they brought his bags out. It had taken almost half an hour for them to make the meals, but Dean hadn't minded. If Sam was true to his word, he'd be back before his own meal got cold.

Walking across the parking lot toward the row of rooms, Dean held the take-out bags in one hand and reached into his pocket for the key, to check the room number, then headed in the direction the numbers led him. He passed a few SUV's, one of which a couple of women in their early 20's came out of, and headed toward the room beside the one he was walking toward. They were giggling, which caught his attention as he fumbled with the key at his door. He glanced over at them. They weren't unattractive. But they were wearing something akin to fishing vests and oddly shaped hats that somehow fit right in with their thick-rimmed glasses. They could be twins, Dean thought.

They were both making fairly obvious flirting glances at Dean, from their door. Normally, Dean would jump at the chance, but there was something...off about them. Not evil off, mind you. But...something. Dean glanced back over at the SUV they'd come out of, doing a double-take at the bumper sticker, which read, 'I love Spangler', but instead of the word 'love', there was a heart. Spangler, Dean thought. Ah...Ghostfacers. Oh god... "Kill me," Dean said, under his breath, as he pushed his way inside his hotel room and quickly closed the door behind him.

He flicked the light switch on, and tossed the key on the table, followed by the take-out bags, before glancing around the room. It only took him a moment to process that there was just one bed.

"I stopped and got us the last room left in the entire town," he remembered Sam saying. Well, then...it wasn't intentional. But of course they ended up in a town where there was only one room available, which just so happened to only have one bed, the very same time there's this...thing between them. Well, no...there's not a thing. It's just a...what do they call it? An elephant in the room? Right. There's this elephant between them. How the hell are they all going to fit in this bed?

"Hey," Sam's voice sounded from the door, as he let himself in, startling Dean from his thoughts, as he turned to see him. "Saw you as I pulled in the driveway," he told him. "Kinda can't believe you passed up camp-Barbie twins, just outside," he smirked.

"Yeah, right," Dean shook his head, deciding to shove his previous thoughts far back into the recesses of his mind, where they belonged, and head to the chair farthest from the door, at the table. "More like Spangler-fan Barbie twins."

"Ouch," Sam grimaced. "Did you get turned down?" he set a stack of books down on the bed and headed to the table, as Dean pulled out the food.

"For your information," Dean looked up at him with raised brows, "They were totally checking me out. I'm just not interested in anything but food, right now," he said, popping the top open on the cellophane box holding his triple-decker sandwich. "And even if I wasn't hungry, I don't do Ghostfacer fangirls."

Sam half-grinned as he grabbed onto the second box, "We didn't even know Ghostfacers had fangirls, until like...two minutes ago."

"Yeah, well, now we know. And now they're added to the list of things I don't do."

"Did you put them anywhere near Amazonians?" Sam grinned as he stuck his fork into his fairly large grilled chicken salad.

"Actually, I'd forgotten to add them. They're going right at the top. But the fangirls, they're right under that, with carnival chicks and transvestites."

"What do you have against transvestites?" Sam laughed.

"Too much makeup," Dean replied, without missing a beat.

"Aren't carnival chicks flexible?"

"They also sleep with more freaks than a hooker, Sam. You don't like clowns; I don't do carnie chicks," he said, then took an oversized bite out of his sandwich.

Sam smiled, before sticking a forkful of salad into his mouth, silently acknowledging within his mind the fact that 'Sam' hadn't been near the top of that list. He logged that away, and continued eating.

"So, you find anything out at the library?" Dean asked, around a mouthful of food.

"Yeah," he replied, before swallowing. "Sally O'hanson was sixteen when she was found dead a mile from her family's campsite. Police report says it was a bear attack. But that's not what the locals thought."

"What do they think?"

"Well, the librarian told me that there had been rumors that Sally was being abused by her stepfather," Sam told him. "The guy at the front desk, here, told me people thought the step-dad killed her."

"Stepdad still around?" Dean asked, raising a brow.

"That's where the rumors start seeming more likely. The step-dad, Greg Tutner, supposedly left town right after that. Never heard from him again."

"That doesn't seem suspicious at all," Dean said, sarcastically.

Sam continued, "There have been deaths in those woods every year, on this night, ever since. But get this; those are just the reports that are publicized. Apparently, missing persons reports in those woods have been happening year-round."

"How does that get kept quiet?"

"They get written off as wandering hikers. Those Blue Ridge Mountain trails lead up and down almost the entire east coast. And since a majority of those hikers had been hiking alone, after a thorough search by the local park Sheriff department, it gets handed down the line, until it reaches the end of the trail, so to speak."

"So basically, they figure these hikers just kept on hiking, right into other states?"

"People do it all the time," Sam shrugged. "Extreme back-packing isn't exactly rare."

"And by getting handed down the line, you mean, the next park over?"

"Yeah. And when they do a search and don't find anything, they pass it to the next one down, and so forth. Unless they find some trace of something happening to the hiker, there's really nothing else they can do."

"But you think Sally's ghost is killing them, just like the others that get discovered on the anniversary of her death," he surmised.

"Maybe," Sam replied. "There just...seems to be too many, for it to be a coincidence."

"We're gonna have to go camping tonight, aren't we?" Dean whined.

"Not necessarily," Sam replied. "There's gonna be a ton of people out there, with this convention. I figure Ed and Harry will gather enough information, if something does happen-"

"They're gonna get someone killed out there, tonight," Dean argued. "We can't just sit back here and hope they catch it on tape."

"Well, I was thinking more along the lines of finding Sally's grave, and stopping that from even happening," Sam raised his brows. "Disappearances of the anniversary deaths are almost all reported to have happened around 10:30pm. I figure, if we wait till nightfall, salt and burn O'hanson's body, we'll have time to get up to the campsite and verify that everything's good. We might even be able to avoid running into Spangler."

..

The brothers managed to locate the grave of Sally O'hanson, dig it up, salt, and burn it, in time to head up to the campsite before 10:30 that night. What they didn't manage, was to completely avoid the crew of Ghostfacers. Ed and Harry spotted them, though they were standing a ways away from the crowd of fans, off by some trees, simply observing.

Dean rolled his eyes and let out a sigh of frustration, when he saw the two men get up and approach them. "Just freakin' great."

"Well if it isn't the Winchesters," Harry said, as they reached them, stopping a couple of feet in front of them.

"Spangler," Dean greeted. "Zeddmore."

"So you guys are fans?"

Sam let out a laugh, as Dean smirked, "Just makin' sure no one get killed on your watch, again."

"If you haven't noticed," Ed chimed in, "The camp is surrounded by several rings of salt."

"We've taken precautions," Harry told them. "And we've got all the necessary equipment to capture the ghost of Sally O'hanson on tape."

"Sorry, boys," Dean said, "But I doubt you'll see any ghosts, tonight."

"Reliable sources have told us otherwise," Harry retorted. "It's why we chose this place to hold our convention."

"Convention," Dean laughed and shook his head. "I can't believe you guys managed to round up enough idiots together in one place."

"They're students of paranormal study," Ed countered, defensively.

"Well, then," Dean grinned, looking more like a grimace, "I guess they chose the right people to do their homework on." And Dean turned and started to walk away, followed by Sam.

"Hey!" Ed called out, offended.

"Just let 'em go," Harry stopped him. "They're the ones missing out."

"Yeah, good luck explaining to all your fans how they wasted a trip," Dean yelled back, without turning around. Harry and Ed narrowed their eyes at them, before heading back to their RV.

"Sure you wanna leave already?" Sam quietly asked Dean, as they continued walking toward the car.

"It's eleven," Dean answered. "Sally hasn't showed. Pretty sure we took care of the problem, and I'm all outta patience for those morons."

"You saw them all of thirty seconds," Sam smirked, slightly amused.

"Twenty-nine seconds too long, in my book."

...

"There's a little bar next to that diner," Dean said as they got out of the car, in front of their hotel room door. "I'm gonna go grab a couple drinks. Wanna come?"

"Nah, I'm good," Sam replied. "I'm gonna grab a shower and get to bed. We should head out, in the morning."

"Right. Okay," Dean nodded, trying not to show the slight pang of disappointment he didn't understand why he felt, at Sam's refusal to go to the bar with him. "I'll be back in an hour."

"Okay. Hey, wait," Sam said, fishing out the room key and unlocking the door, then threw the key to his brother. "In case I'm asleep before you get back." Dean nodded, a small smile on his face, as he shoved the key into his coat pocket.

Sam watched as Dean walked away, toward the bar, for a few moments, before letting himself into the room. He shut the door, locking the knob, before heading toward the shower. Fact was, he was horny as hell, and being around Dean was only making it worse. He needed to get it out of his system, especially since they were sharing a bed, tonight.

Sam stripped of his clothing, after starting a steamy shower. The tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner sitting on the soap dish, seemed inadequate for anyone's use. He'd need to ask the front desk for more, so Dean could shower in the morning.

Climbing into the tub, Sam let the hot water cascade down his back for a few moments, before tilting his head under the spray. He tried to just use half the bottle of shampoo to wash his hair, using the suds to wash his skin. His hands skimmed across his stomach, and the muscles there, fluttered, as his memory flashed of the previous night, when Dean's hand had touched him there.

"Shouldn't be thinking of Dean..." he thought, as his hand grazed lower, grabbing on to his half-hard cock. He let out a groan as he stroked it completely to life, remembering Dean's hand on him, there, as well. "Stop...stop thinking about that," he chided himself. "Think about someone else. Think about a girl... Think about..." he squeezed harder, remembering Dean's words.

"I wanna see you... Wanna watch you come from my cock..." Dean's voice was so clear in Sam's head. Sam's eyes slammed closed, pressing his forehead on the cool tile in front of him, giving in to his thoughts.

He remembered how it felt; Dean inside of him. That spot he kept hitting, that had forced him over the edge. He wanted...no he needed to feel it again. Sam reached back, behind him, bending over just a bit more, as his fingers sought out his hole. It wasn't a time-consuming task, as he could still feel it slightly aching. He was still a bit loose from the previous night's activities, and his finger slid in with ease. Sam couldn't hold in the groan, as he found his prostate, and thoughts immediately swam back to Dean...

"God, Sammy..." Dean said as he leaned back, quickening his thrusts. "Come on, Sam... Want you to come with me... So fucking close, baby..."

Sam fucked himself with his finger, quickening the strokes on his cock with his other hand, and balancing himself with his forehead against the tile; his breath loud and noisy, and his heart pounding in his chest...

...

Dean frustratedly shook the locked door of the bar, peering inside at what he now realized was a closed-down establishment. "Sonofabitch," he grunted. He'd needed a couple of drinks. He'd needed to stop thinking about Sam. Well, he needed to stop thinking about fucking Sam, anyway. He thought maybe a couple shots, and a quick wank in the bar's restroom, would get him through the night in the shared bed with his brother.

To hell with it. There was whiskey in his bag, back in the room. Sam was probably in the shower. He could probably finish both tasks before he got out of the bathroom.

Decided, Dean briskly headed back to the room, using his key to let himself in, quietly. Sam didn't need to know he was back, just yet. He silently closed and locked the door, setting the key down on the table, and reaching for his bag. But he stopped short, hearing a moaning come from the bathroom.

For a split second, he thought maybe Sam was hurt, and he headed to the bathroom door to investigate, until he heard it again. That wasn't a moan of pain, Dean was sure. And he found himself suddenly and painfully hard.

"Shit shit shit," he chided himself. "I shouldn't be listening to this. Shouldn't be hard for my little brother's pleasured moaning. Shouldn't be touching myself when he's-" Dean let out a frustrated breath, not even having noticed at first, that his palm was pressing against the front of his pants. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop listening, and he couldn't walk away.

His forehead pressed against the small section of wall beside the bathroom door, as he listened for Sam; tried to make out the sound of what Sam was doing, in there. He pictured him under that spray, touching himself, and closed his eyes tight.

"No. I can't do this," Dean told himself. Then he moved to step away, but suddenly Sam got louder, and Dean found himself gripping the wall in indecision.

"Oh god..." Sam called out. "Dean!" followed by his obvious coming. And instantaneously, Dean was coming in his pants, unable to bite off a sudden shout of his own, hoping Sam was too lost in the throes of ecstasy to have heard it...

(to be continued...)