Disclaimer: I don't ownSupernatural. If I did, (spoilers) Bobby and Ellen would still be alive, the Leviathans would have NEVER left Purgatory, and the plot would be more focused on creepy legends rather than how much blood can be splattered in a single episode slot. Sorry for anyone who disagrees. It's just how I feel. I'm not much for after season 4 or 5. But this isn't about me, other than how Idon'town Sam, Dean, or anyone affiliated with them..

A/N: Hey, guys! I am actually updating at a (semi) decent time! Unbelievable, I know, but… believe it! :) thanks for all of the reviews for the last chapter, and thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy this one… please review! XD

I'd Follow You Anywhere

Chapter Nine

Dean had been running around in the pouring rain, his feet constantly being pulled at by the flooding, marshy ground for close to an hour, and he wasn't any closer to finding Sam – and he wasn't entirely sure where he was anymore, either. For all Dean knew, Sam was already dead, having been lured to his demise by a pseudo-Jessica. He wouldn't rest, however, until he had found his brother, and he refused to entertain the possibility that his brother was dead.

"SAM!" the desperate hunter yelled, his voice hoarse from all the shouting he had done in the past hour. He swiped his sodden sleeve across his eyes, trying to clear the moisture from his vision, but he only succeeded in making things worse for himself. "SAM!" He had a feeling it was fruitless, calling out to his brother like this, because the rain was falling in loud sheets, and thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. The sound of the rain hitting the already wet ground of the bogs was the loudest, and Dean could barely hear his own straining voice over the roaring splashes all around him. It was getting dark, and not just from the dense layers of clouds up above.

Night was falling, and Dean was wandering around in the bogs in a storm, and the greatest danger at the moment wasn't even the specter that was haunting this eerie mangrove forest: Dean had to test every single step before he took it, because as he'd quickly discovered, one wrong step could be his last. Even with the aid of his flashlight to help him, there was no way of telling where the solid(ish) ground ended and where the marsh began. He had nearly lost his left shoe earlier in the deadly bog, and had resolved to move slowly and take extra care despite the urgency of the situation. He'd be no good to Sam if he drowned in the marsh.

After calling Sam's name a few more times, sweeping his waterproof flashlight around the area, and taking a few more tentative steps, he decided to try another course of action that he had been contemplating for a little while, but had been a bit hesitant to go through with. He had a feeling that it might work, and if it did, he would soon find himself face to face with his father – or rather, the specter posing as his father, and as much as he wanted – as he needed – to save Sam, he wasn't quite sure he was ready for that yet. So far, he had just heard his dad's voice, and that had been torment enough. Even though Dean now knew the power of the specter he was facing, he still couldn't help feeling the tiniest spark of hope, that maybe, somehow, John Winchester was still alive. He knew with his head that it was impossible, but his heart wasn't completely convinced. He was so afraid that he'd take one look at his father – the specter, whatever – and be overcome. He was afraid that he wouldn't be strong enough to save Sam. If Sam was the rational one, the one who had told Dean that John wasn't real, and if he had been taken in by specter-Jess, then what chance did Dean, the impulsive one, have, really?

Still, this was Sammy's life on the line, and if Dean didn't change his technique pretty soon, it might not even matter if he could resist the specter, because Sam would be dead. Dean took a deep breath and braced himself. "Hey, Specter!" he yelled as loudly as he could. He had a feeling that the SOB would somehow hear him even if he were whispering, but it never hurt to be safe. "Come on, you cowardly son of a bitch! Face me! Let my brother go, and face me like a man… ghost… whatever the heck you are! C'mon!"

Nothing happened. Dean cursed, spun around, and found himself face to face with Sam!

"Holy crap, Sammy!" Dean shouted as he took in his brother's ragged appearance. He was shivering wildly, his clothes were torn, and the bandage on his head was soaked with fresh blood. Sam's eyes were surprisingly calm, though, even as he shook like a leaf. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"I… I just got away," his brother admitted, his eyes fixated on Dean's. Relief spread through the oldest Winchester, and even the biting cold and piercing rain didn't seem to matter so much anymore, now that Sam was back. "The specter left, and even though I was still under its spell, I managed to break free from its hold and go searching for you. I can't believe I found you!"

Dean pulled Sam to him and gave his brother a crushing hug and then pulled away to get a better look at him. Sam looked terrible, but he seemed to emanate serenity from his expression, which Dean hastily attributed to relief at having been rescued. "Sam, I talked to Bobby," he said seriously, "and I know what we're up against. It's a—" Dean broke off, suddenly realizing something odd. Slowly, Dean addressed his brother, not even blinking out the rain as he searched Sam's face. "I never told you about the specter," he said. "How did you know about it? Bobby just told me after you'd disappeared."

Sam didn't even blink. "It addressed me," he said, and Dean could detect no hint of deceit in his brother's tone. "I guess it was getting bored of waiting for you, so it started talking to me about how you and I are its greatest hunt yet, hunters for the hunter. It said it was called a specter, but I'm not sure what that means."

"Oh," said Dean, thinking that Sam's answer made a good deal of sense. Still, there was something that lingered in the back of his mind, nagging at him and insisting that everything wasn't all right, although how could it not be, when he had Sam back? "Well, we need to get you out of here, bro. We can commence round two when that head injury's better."

Sam almost looked panicked for the briefest of seconds, but his expression changed so rapidly that Dean thought that he might have just imagined it. That wasn't implausible, especially with the weather the way it was. "Actually, Dean, I think we might be able to nail this thing tonight. I think I remember where it was planning on killing us. If we can get there tonight…"

Little warning bells went off in Dean's head, but he brushed them aside as he considered Sam's idea. Part of him wanted to insist that they go back, now, but the other part of him countered that it might be a really bad idea to leave the bog just yet. Something still didn't feel right, and if something was wrong with his brother, something that the specter had done… Sam was right. They had to face this thing tonight. A sort-of half-a-plan had been forming in Dean's mind about how to take on the specter, and he figured that with Sam's help, the two of them could bring the trouble maker down fairly easily.

He met Sam's anxious gaze and dipped his head in agreement. "You're right, Sam. We need to do this tonight."

Sam smiled, and something about that smile sent chills down Dean's spine. Something really wasn't right here…

But then Sam grabbed his upper arm, and at his touch, Dean felt all of his concerns melt away like they had never been there, save for one little spark that kindled slightly when Sam started off into the marsh, Dean in tow, with that odd smile and a mutter of, "Follow me, Dean."

For a while, Dean was simply happy being with his brother, and was content with the knowledge that they had found each other again, and that they were going to finish this tonight. But another part of him continued to stubbornly insist that all was not right with his brother. Regardless, the eldest Winchester continued to follow the taller man through the marshy sludge. Sam knew just where to step in order to avoid getting sucked in to the mire. It was almost eerie how almost… at home Sam seemed in the bog all of a sudden. But every time that Dean tried to focus on this oddity, he felt his mind drifting away again.

After they had traveled for about fifteen minutes, Sam not uttering another word, not even looking back to make sure Dean was still there (it was like he just knew without having to check that Dean would continue to follow him, no matter what), Bobby's voice suddenly and inexplicably echoed in Dean's abnormally complacent mind. "You idget!" Imaginary Bobby griped. "You don't listen to a damn word I tell you, do you, Dean?"

Dean stumbled over a protruding mangrove root, and his left foot landed in murky water with a splash. Up ahead, Sam stopped and looked back for the first time. There was an impatient gleam in his eyes, but it disappeared quickly when Sam realized that Dean was looking right back at him. Dean didn't know what it was that had made him think of Bobby's warnings, but he was glad that it did, because he remembered suddenly that the seasoned hunter had said that specters don't always take the forms of the dead – sometimes, they mimicked the living, too. The person just had to be missed, and the victim had to want to see them again. They had to want to be with them. The specter recreated a person that its intended target would willingly follow anywhere.

And Dean was the target.

He cursed himself for being so stupid, and then made a quick mental note to thank Bobby later for being so persistent that Dean couldn't even escape from his advice when he was being manipulated by a specter that looked like his brother! Dean figured that even Bobby's warnings had been overshadowed by his relief at seeing his brother again, but the longer he had to think, the more he realized that something was wrong, until his inner-Bobby (and he shuddered to think of there being any bit of Bobby, even mental, inside of him, but that wasn't important right now) had burst forth and reminded him that he was a world-class idiot.

"Sam" narrowed his eyes slightly, and Dean wondered if the specter had figured out that Dean knew. "Everything okay, Dean?" the imposter asked, and Dean managed an easygoing nod and even a smile.

"Yeah, Sammy. Stupid root caught me. We almost there? I'm freezing my butt off out here."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "We're close," he said, and he beckoned for Dean to keep up, although the older brother could barely see the gesture through the still pouring rain. "C'mon."

Dean followed, but this time he had a different agenda in mind. He wasn't following a fake Sam because he thought it was the real Sam, but he was following a fake Sam in order to save the real Sam. Now he just had to keep his head on straight long enough to make it to his real brother and come up with some semblance of a plan. He focused on Bobby's voice, on the man's warnings, and he thought about Sam – the real Sam – and about how he absolutely could not fail. Period.

"Okay, Sam," Dean said, hoping that he sounded properly enchanted. "You know I'd follow you anywhere."

After about another ten minutes or so of trudging through the swamp – and the rain hadn't let up one bit the whole time that Dean was walking – Dean was having a bit of trouble remembering why he was so suspicious about following Sam. He had to constantly remind himself that this Sam was actually Specter Sam, and that if Dean was going to rescue Real Sam, he'd have to remember the difference.

Dean was telling himself that Real Sam was out there somewhere for what seemed like the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes (and, quite possibly, might have been the fiftieth time for all Dean knew) when Specter Sam led his follower to what appeared to be a kind of clearing. Or, rather, it was what would have been a clearing if the ground was actually visible underneath the flooded mixture of rainwater and swamp sludge. Dean saw what appeared to be a short, shadowy form on one end of the clearing. It could only have been about four and a half feet tall, and Dean squinted to see who it was.

It was Sam.

Real Sam. His Sam.

But he was so short…

And then it hit Dean – the water had risen to such a ridiculous height in this spot that Sam was covered with water almost to his waist. His brother was shivering, but otherwise stood still. When he saw his doppelganger, he didn't react in the slightest, but when he saw Dean, on the other hand, he yelled (or rather, tried to yell, as his voice was weak and shaky from the cold and wet), "DEAN! I've been waiting for you!"

Dean half-walked, half-swam across the clearing, well aware the Specter Sam was standing to one side, just watching the brothers interact. That didn't bode well, but Dean was too relieved to care. Sam was (relatively) okay. Upon reaching his brother, Dean reached out and grabbed Sam's hand in his own, and recoiled at the icy touch. "Holy crap, Sam. You're frozen. If you've got your head on straight, then why the heck have you just been standing here? You should've tried to make your way back, or find shelter, or look for me!"

Sam blinked. "But you told me to wait for you. I wanted to follow you, Dean. I really, really wanted to follow you. But you told me—"

Dean blanched. Maybe Sam's head wasn't on straight. He'd just assumed that since Sam had recognized him and seemed fairly aware that he was okay, and not totally under the specter's control. But it seemed that their shape-shifting friend had played the same kind of game with Sam that he had with Dean. "Sam, it wasn't me."

"The real Dean said you'd say that," Sam said. "And so did she, right before she had to go, and Dean came along."

"Dammit, I am Dean! And who's she?"

"Jess," said Sam wistfully. "And Dad's coming later. Mom, too. Dean will be so excited. You know, he thinks that I don't care about Dad, or his death, but he's dead wrong. And I'll prove it to him, after we waste you and put things right."

Dean stared through the pelting rain. "Sam, are you even listening to yourself?" he asked roughly. "Dad and Jess, they're both gone. You know there's a shifter, or else you wouldn't think I'm one. But look – there's another you right there."

"You're crazy!" Sam retorted. "That's not me. It's Dad."

Dean turned around and jumped violently. The Specter had apparently moved from its original position, and it was now inches away from Dean's face. The only problem: It wasn't Sam anymore. It was John Winchester, and Dean began to feel rational thought slipping away at seeing his father's face once again, alive and well.

"Hi, Dean," John said. "Hi, Sam. It sure is great to finally have you boys together so that we can finish this nasty business once and for all."

A/N: Errrrgggghhh… Why did I stop it there? I'm ready to write more, but that's the end of the chapter and I've got to go to bed, LOL! :) This was a great, fun, emotionally tolling chapter to write! Hopefully I'll update soon. I've got just a little over a month left until I graduate from college, though, and so my schedule is crazy, plus, April is Camp NaNoWriMo, so updates will probably continue to be a bit sporadic for a while, but hopefully after May 4, things will quiet down, and I'll be able to update regularly again! Until then, I can only promise that I'll write as soon as I can! Thanks for reading, and I'll update ASAP! (And please review!)

~Emachinescat ^..^