Dean was one stubborn man, ask anyone who knew him and they'd tell you the honest truth about his bull-head way. He gave Sam the leeway to search for anything related to the, supposedly new, strange ghosts he's heard about. One thing Dean refused to do? Mention it. He kept it lip-tight through ever hunt they had. Almost dying and saved by a faith healer? Not a word. Ghost truck driving people off the road? Not a peep. Various different hunt and vanquishes in between? Silence. Sammy's weird dreams leading to another hunt? Nothing.

That particular hunt was more than strange, finding some kid who might be tied to Sam's weird dreams was a first. He was concerned, seeing Sam in that state was more odd than he'd like to admit. Regardless, even through the stress and unexplainable shit that happened, he bit his tongue on the internal thoughts of their last heartfelt talk. Honest conversation.

So yes, Dean knows how to keep his mouth shut. He knows how to keep all he's doubt and questions in check. He was taught how to since he was a child. His father never wanted to hear his input, so he learned to tie it deep in his brain. Only for him to know about.

Flying, glowing, super-powered ghosts? A load of bullshit if you ask him. It was some weird, stupid, grief lead hope for Sam. Sure their mom was slightly glowing the last, and final, time they saw her. That didn't mean anything. Ghosts weren't like that. They were faded essence of their consciousness, angry dark versions of who they once were. Ghosts aren't good, they aren't stable. History of hunts have proved that.

Yet, here they were. Facing a young woman with burning blue hair, and human-like mannerism. No angry out-bursts, nothing emotional enough to burst. She wasn't a threat to humanity. She was as normal as the next person. If you ignore her glow.

"Look dudes, I don't have a problem okay? I was just trying to find my guitar." She explains, hand held up in defense. "I haven't hurt anyone, so why bother with me?"

"The fuck are you?" Dean asked, eyes trained on the glowing figure. Moments before they found her, she was just human. No glow, no weird hair, nothing. If he passed on her on the street, he wouldn't think twice. Now, with all the odd aspects, he couldn't ignore her.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked at the same time. This was supposed to be a simple stop, a quick refresher while they found their next step in finding dad, or a hunt.

"Look man, I don't want to explain to you, and I'm not a threat to anyone." She explained, before turning her attention to Sam. "My name's Ember, I'm a friend of Danny's. Kitty told us she explained it to you, so don't shoot me. It won't do much harm, but it'll damn well hurt."

"You knew Danny?" Dean tensed, glancing at his brother. This was bad in more ways than one. What if she could read minds? Look into memories, she would know exactly how to get Sam to back off.

"Yes, me and my boyfriend Skulker." Ember explained, shrugging lightly. "He's had to mention him before, Danny and Skulker had a decent relationship. I'm a ghost, I was on his side."

"Sam, you can't seriously-"

"If you promise you won't stay, can we trust you to go?" Sam cut him off, making a deal with the supposed spirit.

"No doubt!"

"Sam, what the hell?" Dean jumped in, giving his brother an incredulous look.

"She's a ghost Dean, just like Kitty told me about." Sam exhaled, giving his patent pending 'bitch face'.

"I don't want to sit here for you're squabbling, so can I go?"

"No."

"Yes."

"So know we're trusting monsters?"

"We're trusting Danny." Sam shot back, eyes trained on his laptop. Dean glared at his brother, as the other continued to focus on whatever the hell it was he was researching.

"Danny's dead! You need to face facts Sam." Dean growled, pulling himself from the bed. "None of this is going to bring him back! You're chasing a fantasy!" Dean glared, watching Sam bristle at his words. The laptop slammed with a loud thump, Sam jolted to his feet to meet Dean eye to eye.

"You don't think I know that?!" Sam asked, shoulders tensed and ready. "I'm not like dad, Dean. I know this won't change anything, I just-"

"But you sure are acting like him!" The words left Dean before he could process what he said, the shift was immediate. Sam's eyes hardened over, he seemed to tense further if possible. "Sam-"

"Fuck you." Sam spat, turning sharply and slamming the door an his way out. Dean exhaled, dropping back onto the bed. He expected a fight, expected this to end with cold beer and new bruises. This wasn't what he wanted, this wasn't what he expected. As much as a hard-ass Dean can come off as, as emotionless as he tried to be, he knew.

He knew comparing their father to Sam was going to cut deep. Question was, when Sam came back was he going to black-ball Dean, or stone-wall him. The beer bottle on the nightstand shattered as it made impact on the wall.

This wasn't what they do, they don't negotiate with monsters. They take them out. Every one of them is a threat to society, and a threat to humanity. Sam's always had an offish stance when it came to the way of a hunter, but since leaving off to college he's grown stronger on that stance. Sam always looked for a way to for things to be peaceful if it was an option.

One thing Sam needed to realizes was that monsters are monsters, they kill, eat, and torture. It's in their nature.

Dean refused to not be by his side the day this obsession comes back to bite them in the ass. It was bound to. They know ghosts. Sure, Ember might have seemed human. In her right mind. What happens in a few weeks? She's start to lose her humanity, it always happens. She'll turn to anger and pain, and take that out on the living. It's a vicious cycle, just as it always is.

Right now, Dean needed to chose between being right or losing his brother once again.

He almost did, the night of the pagan hunt. It pained him to think of where he would be right now if Sam had gotten on the bus. He'd be alone, that was a given, but where?

Dean exhaled once more, looking around the motel room. He needed a drink. Quickly he grabbed his keys and his coat. A night in the town, a bar, and maybe take someone home. That would help clear up his mind, and make it easier to handle whatever the hell was meeting him when Sam got back. If Sam came back...

Before Dean could even unlock the door, his eyes landed on Sam's laptop. He never used it without Sam's knowledge, but right now what he wanted to know was on there. What the hell was Sam so focused on when the talk first started?

Dean found himself in Sam's previous seat, laptop already pulled open and eyes scanning over the various tabs and pages open. The first set of the tabs was obviously the search for the next place to go. Some about homes catching fire, others of mysterious deaths. Regardless, Dean doubted that's what Sam was looking for right now.

The next set of tabs was a bit more surprising. The first tab was from the old FentonWorks page, a disturbing photo of young Danny with his family settled as the headboard. Dean swallowed as he glanced over the smiles. It was hard to see them as a happy family when he got first-hand encounter on what really happened behind closed doors.

Flipping through the other tabs, it seemed like nutcases talking about flying, glowing monsters. Even after seeing Ember, she gave no implication she could do any of the things this people were listing. A lot of the stories linked back to Amity Park. People saying they grew up there, before the rampage of these monsters forced their family out.

Others sang praises about some creature called Phantom, who did everything he could to save them. Something about the stories seemed familiar, he could only guess that someone told him the tales around the time they lived there.

He glanced over most of the words, not bothering to fulling read the passages. They all felt very similar, and none of them was helping in anyway. Part of him wondered how some cases Sam could easily be glued to his computer, reading over so many different pages and articles until he found the right one. After just a few passages, Dean was ready to call it quits.

He really did, he wants to shove all this under the rug, and hope Sam finally comes to his senses. Danny's dead, he's never coming back. He's not going to magically show up as if everything is okay, and if he did... Dean knew that wouldn't be Danny. He knew what would have to be done.

Dean understands, maybe not as intense as Sam does. But he gets it. Danny was a good kid, Dean spent hours make sure he was okay. He was there when Danny was too stressed, or tired, to go back home. He sat there as he rabbled on about anything and everything that came to mind. He missed Danny, and part of him wished he actually tried talking to the younger man when he last saw him.

His internal thoughts came to a halt when his eyes scanned over a phrase. Skulker V.S. Inviso-Bill. Someone was asking for an unedited video recording that once existed before it suddenly disappeared from the internet. Some anonymous commenter replied with a link to some obscure posting site.

Dean hesitated for a moment, there was no way knowing where that link would take him. Sam would kill him if a virus showed up on the computer. Sam would also be excited if this was a clue.

With a groan, Dean hit the link. Bracing himself for whatever was to come.

Okay, this wasn't the rabbit hole Dean expected to fall into. He expected roadblocks, and obviously fake posts. Something to ground Sam from this stupid crusade. Now, Dean's not so sure it's so stupid.

It's not hard to tell when videos are edited when you lived your life looking for the real-deal. The various different, poorly shot, videos he ran into screamed real. None of them had any glitches, or odd moments that can point to edits. It all seem legit. Which left Dean in a conflict. He wasn't supposed to find support for Sam, but he did.

So when Sam wondered back in, Dean showed him. Showed him all the videos, and all the posts that gave Sam more evidence. Dean hated it, hated that his attempt to save his brother from a life of vengeance grew to something more.

Even though he's enjoying the spark in Sam's eyes. The way his eyes glowed with new emotions as they glanced over the different pages and videos. It was a drive Dean hadn't seen in his younger brother in so long, the warmth in those eyes pushed him to want to help him more.

Helping, or not, Dean would be damned if he was the one to snuff out his brother's spark. So he kept talking. Told him about everything he found as he pulled references up. Told Sam all about Phantom, and the ghostly enemies he has had. Actually showed he believed in all this shit. How couldn't he? There was now evidence, he can't rebuke.

When Sam asked him why, Dean paused. Scoffed, and told him if Sam was going to go crazy, he wasn't going to leave him to go insane alone.

The smile Sam gave him pushed Dean to just want to punch the smug, stupid look of his face. But he couldn't. This was his baby brother, he was going to be there every way he can. Even if he didn't completely trust the past Sam was on.

That's why, when a harsh knock rapped against the motel door, Dean immediately reached for his gun. He was the first one to walk towards the door, gun resting ready at his waist. Sam's soft footsteps behind him. He wasn't sure what to expect when he finally pulled the door open. The hooded figure through the peep-hole giving him no idea who it was.

Nonetheless when they finally turned, the only words that left his mouth was the way he could even think to handle it.

"What the fuck?"