AN: A big thank you to all followers and reviewers. It's really great to see you're enjoying the story. A special thank you goes to NerdAngel for her tips especially on this chapter. We're nearing the end. Enjoy!

CHAPTER 6

For a moment I was rooted to the spot, unable to take my eyes off the ghost's face. The next second the spirit disappeared in a whisk of smoke or fog, hit by a rock salt bullet that Sam had dispatched from his gun. As soon as Tyler had vanished, Dean dashed up the ladder, Sam hot on his heels. I followed a few moments later after reclaiming the crowbar.

When I reached the attic, the brothers were already scanning all the corners for the spirits and the elusive skeleton, guns at the ready. I swallowed and took in the dusty old room full of boxes, old furniture and spider webs. Visibility was quite good here due to several large overhead windows.

"Over here," Dean called, claiming both Sam's and my attention. He was kneeling in front of a pile of bones, decorated with what was left of Tyler's clothes. Around his neck, tangled up in the vertebrae and ribs, the missing necklace. I took a relieved breath. Salt and burn, here we go.

I should have known it sounded too easy. Dean was in the process of pulling the bottle with the accelerant from his pocket, when out of the blue he went flying into the opposite wall. Seconds later, Tyler materialized right in front of him.

Sam, who had raised his gun to shoot Tyler, found himself in a similar position with Jeremy pinning him to another wall. For a moment I didn't know what to do. Then I lifted the crowbar and took a swing at Jeremy, hoping I wouldn't knock Sam in the process. Jeremy's figure dispersed and Sam fell to the ground.

"Thanks, Luis," he rasped, picking himself up. Turning around, I saw Dean had somehow managed to twist his shotgun and pulled the trigger, effectively freeing him from the spirit pinning him down.

"Frigging Caspers," he muttered, returning to the bones. Sam, not idle, pulled a handful of salt from his pocket and spread the white crystals across the bones. Dean followed quickly by dousing the remains with lighter fluid. Yet when he started to fiddle with his Zippo, all hell broke loose.

Tyler was back, and I got a taste of how it feels being used as a tossing toy by a spirit. Before I realized what was happening, I sailed across the room, knocking into an old seaman's crate. I felt my breath being forced out of my lungs with a whoosh and I struggled to draw in some air. For a moment I saw black dots dancing at the edge of my vision.

When my eyesight cleared, I saw Sam back to being pinned by Jeremy, while Dean was busy crawling out from under a turned over book rack that he had definitely knocked over when Tyler blasted him across the room. As I struggled to my feet, Sam fired his gun, ridding himself of Jeremy.

Tyler growled infuriated and Dean found himself pinned against the wall again, which he knocked into with a deafening thud. That sounded like skull against wood to me and for a split second I feared, Dean would pass out. Immediately Tyler was onto him, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him up so Dean's feet were dangling a few inches above the floor.

Making use of Tyler being busy with Dean, Sam started towards the crowbar I had dropped, but Tyler was quick. A swish of his hand, and the crowbar was airborne, catching Sam on the forehead. He dropped like a stone, out cold.

"Sam!" Dean's voice was hoarse from Tyler's hand squeezing down on his windpipe. He struggled against Tyler, trying to angle his gun to shoot the spirit, but Tyler flung it from Dean's grasp and it skittered across the floor, away from me.

Tyler focused on Dean again, lifting him up even higher. Both Dean's hands were trying to pry Tyler's fingers away from his throat. In the dimming light that illuminated the attic from above, I couldn't see everything clearly, but I did notice Dean's struggles getting weaker.

I had to help him, but what could I do? The shotgun? Sam's double barrels both had been fired and Dean's gun had slid under a heavy looking chest of drawers. The crowbar? Tyler could control it from a distance and I didn't really want to get near him. Jeremy hadn't yet reappeared but it was only a matter of time.

Dean was now gasping for air and Tyler didn't look ready to let him go. Sam's brother let his arms drop to his sides, gathering the strength he had left to deliver a message to me.

"Burn 'em," he wheezed.

Burn them. Of course. I fumbled for the lighter and dashed over to Tyler's remains. Tyler noticed my movement but before he could send me flying, Dean picked up his struggles again, tying the spirit's attention back to him.

My hands were shaking as I tried the flip on the lighter. Somehow my fingers weren't cooperating. Looking up at Dean again, I saw his eyes starting to flicker and roll back. 'Come on, Luis,' I urged myself on. Dean didn't have much time left.

Jeremy appeared in front of me and I jumped. I really needed to get the bones burning. Finally the desired flame appeared and I dropped the Zippo onto the bones, which immediately lit up.

I stepped back and saw Jeremy in flames, inches from where I had been standing. A thud relocated my attention to Dean. Tyler being gone, he'd dropped to the floor like a rag doll. He wasn't moving.

Scrambling over to him to make sure he was alive and breathing, I rolled him onto his back. Putting two fingers to his neck, I could feel his pulse racing shallowly. But he wasn't breathing.

I slapped Dean's face, making his head loll over to the other side. No reaction. Grabbing his jaw in my right hand, I noticed the slightly blue tinge of his lips. I gave him another shake. Still no reaction.

"Come on, Dean," I growled. "You don't want me to have to do THAT, do you?"

I really didn't think the older Winchester would appreciate mouth to mouth, but if push came to shove, I'd have to. As an emphasis I slammed my fist into his chest and was finally rewarded with a shuddering breath.

Sitting back on my haunches I let out the air I hadn't noticed I'd held. Dean's throat was sporting hand shaped bruises and a small trickle of blood ran down his neck. He probably popped his stitches or added a new gash to his collection. A soft moan from across the room made me lift my head.

Sam had rolled over onto his back, holding his forehead, where the crowbar had connected. I scooted over to him to inspect the damage.

"Hey, Sam," I softly said, "let me take a look."

"Wh't happen'd?" He asked with a bit of a slur.

"Tyler used you as target practice with the crowbar. Gave you one hell of a goose egg," I explained as I prodded around the sizeable lump. Sam groaned. "Sorry," I muttered.

"'s okay," Sam mumbled. "What 'bout Dean? Where's Dean?"

I sighed. "He's out cold. Tyler tried to squeeze the air out of him."

"He okay?"

"He'll be, I guess. He's stubborn. Had to threaten him with mouth to mouth to start breathing however." Sam scoffed.

"What about Tyler 'nd Jeremy?"

"Deep fried, extra crispy," I offered, trying out what Sam had told me was Dean's favorite way to say it. Sam nodded.

"Help me up."

"Slowly, Sam. You're giving a unicorn a run for the money, so take it easy. I should call an ambulance for the two of you. So don't make me drag your oversized body to your car or I'll be tempted to call 911 anyways." I suddenly longed for some extra hands and unlimited access to medical supplies.

Sam couldn't quite manage to frown at me, but I could tell he was trying. Instead, he lifted himself on his own and walked over to his brother. Whether the knock to the head he'd taken hadn't been as bad I had thought or it was sheer Winchester stubbornness that was keeping him functional, I wasn't sure. My money was on the latter.

Sam bent down to convince himself that his brother would be alright. He traced the angry hand print on Dean's throat and almost affectionately ran his fingers over the stubble on his brother's cheek.

"Let's get him to the car," Sam said, getting up. To his credit I had to admit he was holding his own, not showing any signs of concussion. I nodded, and together we managed to carry the dead weight, that was Dean, to the Impala.

Sam was cradling his brother in his arms while I fished the keys from Dean's pocket. I opened the back doors and we dragged and pushed and pulled at Dean until we were confident he was comfortable. At one point during our efforts, Dean had started to moan softly, but hadn't really awoken. Sam closed his side's back door and I crawled half way in to do a quick check on Dean again. I didn't really get started.

A thud made me look up so fast I almost knocked my head on the roof of the black car. I crawled back out my side and stood up. Sam was nowhere to be seen, at least not from where I was standing. Slamming the back door shut, making sure I didn't hit Dean's booted feet, I rushed around to Sam's side.

He was crumpled on the dusty ground, looking somewhat spooky in the rapidly fading light. Knowing his brother was safely in the car, Sam's grip on himself had loosened and his head injury called first dibs on his hold on consciousness.

"Looks like I'll be driving," I muttered to nobody in particular. A quick check had me satisfied Sam had merely passed out. With a sigh, I got to work. Getting Sam into the car was even more difficult than I imagined. I had no clue how Dean had managed to do it with his busted shoulder the other day.

Finally I turned the keys in the ignition and the big black car rumbled to life. But for the engine's purring it would be a quiet way home.

***sn***

Wearily I let my body drop into my arm chair, the only piece of my couch set that was not taken by Winchester limbs. I had once more carried their heavy asses into my living room, and made sure they were not in immediate danger of dying. I had re-stitched Dean's head wound and had deposited an ice pack on Sam's forehead.

Now that I was sitting, I felt all the adrenalin from this evening leave my body. I was tired. Before I knew it, my eyelids dropped and I was asleep.

The next thing I was aware of was a hand shaking my shoulder. Groggily, I opened my eyes. It was brighter in my house than I thought it was when we returned. Dean's face materialized in front of mine.

"You okay, Luis?" he asked. I blinked my eyes and focused on him. Why was he up in the middle of the night? I couldn't have slept more than an hour or two. My body was screaming for more sleep.

"I'm sure all you want to do is turn around and go back to sleep, doc, but it's after 8 am and we are hungry." Dean held out his hand to me. I stared at it blankly. 8 am? What on earth does he want from me?

"Keys, Luis," he demanded, wriggling his fingers impatiently. Keys? Oh yes, the keys to the Impala.

"Kitchen counter," I mumbled, closing my eyes again. He had to be kidding. It just couldn't be eight already.

"Nope," he replied. "No keys on the counter. Hand them over or I'll search your pockets myself. I don't want to hotwire my baby, so cough them up, pronto. Sammy is starving."

With a groan I sat up, stuffed my hand in my jeans pocket and produced the keys. I could have sworn I had left them on the counter. Apparently I had not.

"Why, thank you," Dean smiled. "Now, how do you want your coffee?"

"Coffee?" I frowned.

"Yes, black caffeine bomb. Coffee. The stuff that you ran out of, along with anything edible that is not frozen solid." Sarcasm. I knew it the moment I heard it. In the background I heard Sam chuckling softly.

"Black, no sugar," I mumbled. Usually I'd take cream with it but I had a feeling my brain needed an extra kick start. "And a bagel, please."

"Black and a bagel, got it," Dean was already half way to the door. I glanced at Sam whose goose egg was displaying fifty shades of rainbow colored pain. He was sitting on the couch he'd slept on, his laptop balanced on his long legs. I stretched my arms to get rid of the stiff muscles and failed to suppress a yawn.

"Oh, and Luis?" Dean had turned around in the open front door. "If I find even the tiniest scratch in the paintwork..." He mimicked cutting his throat. I got the picture and nodded.

"Yeah, I know, I'm dead."

"Deader than dead," Dean emphasized and vanished. I only dared breathing again when I heard the Impala start up and leave. Next to me Sam burst out in laughter.

"You should have seen your face..."

TBC

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