—-

Chapter Seven

—-

We picked up some sandwiches on our way back, and upon arriving home I quickly set plates and a bag of chips out on the kitchen table to go along with them. Pouring us each tall glasses of lemonade, I then plopped down, watching as Dean lightly chided his brother for spending all the time we were gone researching. Sam just stared back stubbornly, willing Dean to let it go, which he finally did with a muttered, "bitch."

"Jerk." came the equally soft reply, and then for some reason they both smiled. Strange. I shook my head at their antics and for a few minutes only the sound of eating filled the room. As our hunger was sated, however, we began comparing notes.

"So," Sam summarized efficiently, "Don was killed by his brother, Charlie. I read the police and coroner's reports from the incident, and it was as Rosalie said, inconclusive evidence that only circumstantially pointed to Charlie. Nothing we didn't already know." He paused for a sip of lemonade then continued. "The boys, Will & Drew, were playing in the old Sagemont house and grabbed some of Don's things, then ended up transporting them to the house next door which is why his ghost appeared there. I'm guessing the person they heard pull up was Charlie. Then he must have seen the article in the paper, figured out the missing stuff from his house had ended up next door, and came to get it last night. Though what he thought was going on, or if he believed there was a ghost…" he trailed off, clearly unsettled by the lack of an answer to that.

"So we have two problems." Dean picked up. "We have a ghost, which we now know how to get rid of, thanks to Will telling me where he stashed the items. But we also have a human."

"A human," I added, "who shot Sam and likely murdered his brother." I shivered, as I realized all this violence had happened so close to home.

"Yep. Charlie is the more difficult problem here…" Sam started, but stopped when I began laughing, maybe a touch hysterically. Both brothers looked at me curiously.

"Sorry," I hiccupped, trying to stop my laughing, "It's just…a ghost being the smaller of the problems…" They waited patiently for me to settle, which took longer than I like to admit. Apparently the disrupted night and all the day's adventure was getting to me more than I thought.

"Hunting ghosts is what we do." Dean stated matter-of-factly, "And we're pretty damn good at it, if I do say so myself. So we are equipped to handle that. We try really hard not to harm humans, however, so for that reason Charlie is a big problem." He stared pointedly at Sam's injury, but raised his eyes when Sam laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"We don't know that he even saw me before he shot." Sam quietly stated. Dean's expression showed he clearly didn't care, Charlie wasn't getting a pass for injuring his little brother. He relented slightly, rubbing his chin tiredly.

"In any case," Dean continued, "I'll need you both to keep a lookout for him tonight, while I go in and deal with - "

"Not. Happening." Sam stated firmly. "You're not going in alone."

"Sam - "

"No, dammit. I'll watch your back or you're not going." They glared at each other, neither willing to yield. I held my breath, curious to see what the outcome of the stalemate would be. My money was on Sam, in spite of how fierce Dean could be. And unsurprisingly, when Dean slipped out my back door later in the cover of darkness to slide quietly through the verge to the neighbor's house, Sam was a silent but formidable shadow behind him.

Dean hadn't given in willingly, of course. The argument raged (mostly) silently the entire evening, with challenging looks and aggressively handled (on Dean's part) weapons as they were readied and checked. I kept out of the way, leaning against my kitchen counter and staring at the table almost as if I was a visitor in my own home. I certainly didn't recognize the vast weaponry decorating my table - knives, guns, shotgun shells, and more. Sam had been banished to the couch to rest, which he did reluctantly, spending more time suspiciously eyeing the kitchen than anything else. I finally had enough of their behavior…I could certainly see both sides - Dean wanting to protect his already injured brother, while Sam was terrified that Dean needed someone to watch his back with not one but two enemies out there. They both had valid arguments, but only one could win.

"Dean, you need to give in and let Sam come with you." I finally intervened. "He won't rest as long as he thinks you're going to sneak out, and if you do go alone you know he'll just go after you, which will only put you both in more danger." He stilled from his task of loading the shotgun as I spoke, head bowed.

"I can't stand seeing him hurt." he said, almost so quietly I missed it. He looked up then, his expressive green eyes communicating all the hurt, fear, and deep love he had for his brother. "I keep promising that nothing bad will happen to him when I'm around, and I keep failing." I didn't know what to say to that, but thankfully I was rescued by Sam's voice from the doorway, where he had apparently been standing unobserved.

"You have never failed me Dean." Sam said softly but firmly. I suddenly felt like an intruder, as it was clearly an intensely personal moment, and one I sensed they rarely shared in private, let alone in front of anyone else. "I wish you understood how much I feel the same way, how much I wish you would trust me to be strong enough to help you and not need protecting…"

"I do trust you Sam. But I'll never stop protecting you, so don't ask me to try." The conversation went non-verbal at that point, as only these brothers could do, looks conveying the words they apparently couldn't say out loud.

I love you brother.

I trust you, always.

You and me, we're better together. We just are.

Unfortunately, at that moment I sneezed, and they both looked over, startled as if they had forgotten I was there. Regretfully, the moment was over, and from then on they were all business, but much later I often thought back with fondness on the privilege I had to witness such an unbreakable, deep, close bond - something incredibly precious that I have never encountered since.

I also had argued, much less successfully, to be allowed to help with the night's activities. My Dad had taught me how to handle a gun…in fact, I had one in my bedroom 'just in case,' but on this point they were united. I was not to follow them into the house. I could, they conceded however, play lookout. From the spare bedroom upstairs I had a good view of both the front and back entrances of the house next door, so I should be able to see if Charlie came back and give them warning. I was able to scrounge up an old bird whistle my Dad had thought was funny to annoy me with, and after testing it they both declared the sound would more than carry while not necessarily alerting Charlie to the alarm.

I settled down at the sill, window slightly open, tension thrumming through my veins as I watched them slink their way to the back door of the old house. A moment later, both of them were out of my sight, and I sent up a swift prayer that they would be safe. I watched vigilantly, but there seemed to be no motion of any kind in the silent neighborhood. I found myself straining to hear any sounds coming from next door, jumping slightly at a muffled shot and hoping that meant they were vanquishing the ghost. As I was leaning almost out the window, trying to hear any following cries or commotion, I was startled by a sudden noise directly behind me. I whirled around to find myself face to face with none other than Charlie Sagemont!