Hello all those who decided to give this story a try!

I've decided to set it Canada, no real problem, I just live here and I'm less likely to get flamed for saying New York is an hour drive from San Francisco this way. If it's a problem, just substitute in what ever places you want, its not a big factor here.

I absolutely love this new show, the only decent one with all the good elements, horror, drama, excellent characterization, and as we all agree, well female fans anyway, HOTTIES.

I don't own any recognizable elements of the show, yadaha, don't sue me, not worth it…

Thanks for Reading!

Grief's Possession

Chapter One: Sleepless Nights, Dreaming Frights

Cascading tears licked down the cool pallor of a sorrow-lined face. A mirror image of pain hungered eyes glinted in the polished blade held knifepoint inwards. Self-recriminations filled the brown orbs, overflowed, streaming down of a tight set jaw. Muscles shook with throbbing intensity, in an effort to hold the weapon still against the pressures forcing the only relief away. The young wielder glanced over to the offending picture and mumbled softly a prayer, more the intensity of mantra. "It is of my will to join, please wait for me."

Unheard came the scream of agony and denial from out the lips of a witness as the tip sheathed inside the twisting body. One voice streamed above the crowd lifted by circumstance and released control, "I can't, no!"

Her scream resonated through the night.

The shrill noise pierced the tight web of dreams wrapped around the head of Sam Winchester popped as if he'd been stabbed. Inhaling sharply he sat stiffly, willing to pull himself out of the grips of terror, and wait for the new wave of pain to ebb. Sam relaxed unconsciously clenched fists and leaned back against the door of the 67 Impala. Shaking slightly he sorrowfully the illusive sleep to come back to him. It was not easy; it flickered on the edge of his awareness like a distant memory.

The deep unawareness that he craved deeply mentally and physically ran ahead of his reach. The few moments of unconsciousness he could grab were either so bodily exhausting he woke up feeling worse than when he laid down to sleep, or the other times, were, were the one thing that had him dashing away like a coward, making him fear to close his eyes. The only thing Sam ever saw was her, its all he could ever dream about. Her once soft eyes, so perverse with fear and death, her accusatory stare, her blood spilling down her satin gown, dripping onto his hands. It killed him to watch. His soul burned along with her body, could not look away, for it was the last way he would ever see her. That fateful night Sam still remembered the strong arms of his brother forcing him, no keeping him from joining her.

The quiet voice of his brother instinctively jerked Sam out of his reverie, to listen to Dean's confident speech, "Of course. Leave the driver to play Miss. Secretary." The shorter Winchester picked up the on ringing cell phone, and right before he answered, Sam must have imagined Dean's quiet voice mumble, "Glad you're finally sleeping, Sammy."

That last statement shot a pang of guilt, through his soul, how he had tormented all that he loved, Jess was dead by his negligence, he had driven his father away, and now he had his older brother fearful for his sanity. All those thoughts he hoped did not reflect on his relaxed face and further agonize Dean. Rising out of his depression, his tuned to listen to Dean's half of whatever conversation was playing.

"Uh, hello, what can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry, man, to have to deal with two deaths like that…"

"Yes, I sure that we can check that out for you, but have you considered that maybe she was just acting out of grief for him-"

"Sure thing, yah we're in. Yah, there is my brother Sam as well. Unn, we're just about into Great Falls, Montana, yeh, I'll check out a map, thinking maybe eight hours of driving. We'll be there, okay meet you in Calgary, around seven. I'll phone you from the hotel we will check into."

"Payment? I, we don't usually charge, if you insist. Yes, of course its Canadian, thanks just sit tight until we get there…"

Hearing the quiet beep of the 'end' button of the small phone, and the bounce of the silver device hitting a weapons bag in the back seat he decided to forgo his acting job in interest of their new case. Sam shifted to sit up and faced his brother, "Uh, we are heading to Canada?" Wiping away groggy eyes, he looked into his brother's surprised features, "Don't worry bro, you didn't wake me up."

A sardonic eyebrow raised, "Hey, I don't worry, I just think that you've been lacking a little of everything, hey sleep, food, a life! I know that you've been happy drowning in self pity." Dean's cocky voice lost a little of its drive, and he sighed, "Sorry man, that was a low blow, but seriously, you need to not feel the need to play the Grim Reaper so intently. You'd think that we would get enough of that on the job."

Sam faked a smirk for the sake of Dean and stuttered out, "Jess, uh, I mean we have had no sign of dad in over, well since we heard that damn phone message." Sam moved to look out to the lightening scenery window. His reflection glimmered faintly, a sallow face, with black bags under glazed eyes. He felt Dean's hand on his knee. Sam's neck rotated to glance over his shoulder at the troubled façade of his older brother.

"Sammy, we are going to take a break and check into a hotel to get a couple hours sleep before we hit the road again. Yeh, and maybe you could drive partway there, so I could catch some shuteye. I, you, think I really need to get some sleep, and you need to do something besides brood." Dean chuckled, "That and you're a better navigator than me, all your college education should be funneled into something useful, like finding the shortest route up into Canada."

"Shall this be a legal route, or smuggle ourselves in?" Sam allowed himself an exhausted smirk, more a Dean's affronted expression that melted into a chuckling laugh.

"Oh, I think we'll stick with legal, last time I was up in the Great North of the Krazy Kunucks, I didn't do anything illegal I could get arrested for," after seeing Sam's incredulous face, Dean continued on, more truthfully, "Well without any inventive and motivated detective work." Dean sighed, "Another ten minutes and you start looking for a hotel, anywhere with a vacancy, maybe a bar, last chance to buy some decent beer."

"Krazy Kunucks?" Sam said at last after they drove into a Best Western with a half burned out vacancy sign.

"A Canadian hockey team. Had a fling once with a girl whose father died of a heart attack in front of a game where they lost badly. Mostly that job was a short little exorcism. He came back as the phantom caused weird accidents and tripped referees; it wasn't all that difficult to deal with. The ultimate passionate sport fan's here-after, hey Sam?"

Dean opened the black door and stepped outside gingerly, stamping feeling back into his legs. Sam swung out and grabbed the wallets of their newest credit card scams, cousins Jason and Andrew Langston. Stumbling out of the four-door he lost his balance and made a wide grab for the door accidentally slamming it shut. Earning a reproach from his older brother he shook his head to clear the fog he thought solemnly in his head, I'm sure the only real relationship Dean his ever had, is with that 67 Chevy Impala.

Walking through the automatic doors they were greeted with a monotonic, "Hello, what its it that you require here today, sirs?" Sam strode up to the suited man at the desk, painfully aware of the man's own suit and tie, with his own broken in jeans and a hoodie in desperate need of a wash. They were a little bit underdressed for the regular clientele, and therefore unsaid troublemakers.

Suppressing a heavy yawn and lingering dizziness, Sam answered before Dean could step in and insult the guy, or do something else that inane that late at night, or he guessed that early in the morning. "Ah do you have any two bed rooms? Nothing fancy, just a shower." The phony grin plastered to his face earned a sneer from the hotel attendant.

"We have only a one bed room available? Is that suitable?" The disapproving glare mixed with fake hospitality was a little too much to deal with, so they nodded their heads, and paid for the room as quickly as they could.

After Sam had passed one of the little white key cards off to Dean they pulled themselves up the stairs carrying one duffle bag between them. Resigning to walk up four flights of stair was due to five minutes of being scrutinized by all the early risers trickling out of the lounge; they had given up on waiting for the elevator. Thudding heavily on ornate steps, Sam paused dizzily at the top of stairs watching the ordinate wallpaper spin lazily around him. Reaching out to grab the rail like a drunken man he felt dimly aware of his knees buckling.

"Damn it!" Dean's lunge after his arm hauled him back to the top, and away from the long fall over by the wall. He felt violently sick, as his brother threw an arm under his shoulders and dragged him to their room ignoring viciously the irritated and patronizing glances of the other people in the hall. Glowering at the door of room 13B he finally got the lock to open and assisted his brother on the bed. Sam dropped roughly there and rolled back trying to summon the equilibrium to stand up.

Running to get Sam a cool cup of water, Dean gazed over his shoulder took his too pale younger brother. "Sam lay down and rest or I'll tie you there. I think I could take you right now." Dean ignored his brother's call of defiance as he waited for the water to turn cold. Striding shakily back into his younger brother's view, he tried donned his air of indifferent coolness. "Want to fill me in on how long you've been dangerously ill."

Sam's eyes opened a searched the room for an answer, "I'm fine."

"Oh bullshit Sam! You nearly passed out at the top of those stairs, like hell fine. What if we would have been on a case? What then, 'Sorry Dean, those innocents died because I can't take care of myself.' What if it was you got hurt, or me? How am I supposed to trust you if you can't tell that you've been running yourself into the ground?" The underlying hurt in Dean's wide eyes stung at him. "Sam, I'll sleep on the floor, take the bed, you need to rest, apparently. We'll get up to the case when you're feeling better."

"Jesus, Sam, don't do that to me again. Not for a little while at least, please." Dean pulled a pillow out of the closet. He stopped and turned around to face Sam and waved his hand dramatically into the heavens, "That was just a chick flick moment, yep, need a beer."

Sam rolled under the covers; his runners still on, and tried in vain to achieve true rest. The sun's light and chipper crickets coupled with Dean's inexhaustible impromptu snoring certainly killed any delusions of real rest. Shifting back and forth angrily first at himself for not knowing better, than at Dean for blowing things way out of proportion, he took a sip of the water his brother had provided. Clamping shut his blurry brown eyes; he gasped in a deep breath and achieved a lightened state of sleep.

Descending into a darkened nightmare with sheer panic, and peculiarly amount of eagerness, Sam opened his mind's eyes to the dark room of his apartment room back at Stanford. Jess stood their arms opens her eyes inviting, and for once a happy visage. No blood or violence marked her body, her satin night clothes were to please him. She waved to him and beckoned him closer. Neither his terror nor excitement leveled, the gloomy air only felt more constraining. Her smile never broken into words but he heard her voice in his head, "Is it of your will to join, beg for me, I'll be waiting…" Her face turned deadly and she looked down at Sam's hands. Looking down, he realized he held Dean's Bowie knife towards his heart. He heard himself cry, "No, I can't-"

"Sam! Come on man, wake up! Just a damn dream, come buddy." Dean's broken and frantic speech sped him out of the enclosed terror, and he open his eyes, to see Dean sitting on the bed with him, shaking him sharply. Sam's confused eyes locked with his brother. Dean turned a bright shade of red, and back off stammering, "Yah you started screaming like a real banshee, so I had to shut you before we got kicked out. I think that manager had it in for us."

Dean walked into the bathroom and called over a running tap, "Uh, you feeling any better, cause if not you could probably get another hour to relax in before hit the road and we'll probably make it if we speed all up through Canada." Dean returned into sight carrying a cup of water in a coffee mug.

"Uh, thanks for the pity, but really feeling whole lot better, I don't need to be baby sat. Fine, really." Sam swung his legs over the edge and rolled his eyes on Dean's take of 'an affronted Florence Nightingale'. "So what time is it boss?" Standing up too fast had him sitting back on the bed, head swimming.

"Fine, frantic, insure, neurotic, emotional, but otherwise cool, right Sammy." Dean stood superiorly over Sam who was feverishly rubbing the pressure points on head.

"Just what time is it, Deanna?" A sharp glare interchanged between the pair before Sam dropped eyes so take a drink of Dean's water.

"It's 10:30, maybe we should find some food to tide us over, grab something at the Tim Hortons across the way. And you just had your driving privileges revoked, Samantha." Dean chuckled and stretched, "Well lets get going, see if we can think of an inventive alibi if the border guards decide to do a full car search and discovers are little unlicensed arsenal."

Walking out the front of the hotel, refreshed, well at least showered, they snickered at the managers rude appraisal of them behind their backs as the walked out. "So we hittheir long enough to sober up before we had to return to our wives, heh. Can't ever picture us married." Realizing Sam wasn't chuckling alongside him, Dean looked over his shoulder and cringed. Sam had stopped and was looking at his shoes with clenched fists, retaking the haunted he had lost after he woke up. "Shit, that was stupid of me, uh, you okay?"

"Just peachy…" Sam 'sarcastic' monotone spoke louder than the grieving man intended. Anyone else, maybe even their father would overlook the broken undercurrents of his face. But not Dean, he understood what his brother saw in the ground, what angered him and could push him on when everything else fell away. It was the same look his father had, when something even remotely reminded him of his wife's tragic death.

Dean, stopped and stood still, waiting for his brother to pas him to the car and get in, again slamming the door. Dean cringed away from the sound, and set down the lecture threatening to tip over his tongue, he could wait until Sam was doing better.

Pulling out of the drive through with a box of twelve donuts, in the back for lunch, a sandwich with a hot chocolate for Dean, and two cups of coffee for Sam. Dean glared at his brother as he put the first one back in three minutes, barely to the outskirts of town.

"What?" Sam rolled his eyes and gentle tossed the empty cup over his shoulder into the back seat.

Dean's head whipped around to watch the Styrofoam fall and smacked Sam upside the head, "What did my car ever do to you? Do you know how much money it costs to get this girl shampooed by someone who isn't going to ask about the forgotten one or two silver bullets. That cup better have been drained dry."

"It was, don't worry. Watch the road. Dean, car, CAR!" Stopping incredibly short, Dean, smacked Sam again. Not even bothering to ask his brother what the deal was, he just resigned to pull a maple glazed apple fritter out of the box.

A snort of acceptance came from the driver's side, "You can't sleep for an hour with out screaming, you drink pure caffeine, and all you eat is sugar straight up with a good dose of vengeful paranormal activity, and you wonder why you crashing, man. Give me your second cup, I need far more than you do right now, and besides, the only way your going to pass that coffee is if I have to stop too."

Offering over the brown cup to the open waiting hand, Sam smirked as Dean took slow sip. "Black, you were going to drink two black coffees in I'm guessing ten minutes, and try and get some sleep, what are you fifteen?"

"Dean, mother-henning really isn't your gig, how about you just tell me about this case that might just be a dud." Sam shifted away and rubbed his neck, he was going to fall asleep if he couldn't get that coffee back, he need to be sharp and to actually be helpful or Dean will take every opportunity to develop his own brand of PMS.

"Well, it's not really the kind of circumstances to bring about a vengeful ghost. This girl's fiancée dies, some car accident, other driver was stoned, and 13 days later they find her impaled on a knife. The police think it was suicide, but the knife has her dead boyfriend's fingerprints all over it, with some one else's they can't identify. The girl was obviously really depressed, but Christian parents had always thought that she would never stoop to that level." Dean took a longer sip of the coffee and swallowed grimacing, "Here have this back, and I'll stick with mine."

Sam took back the cup and wiped off the rim before taking a drink and asking Dean, "Did anyone witness the murder?"

"Her younger brother, uh sixteen, ran into the room right after she was said to have done it and saw her fall, dead before she even hit the ground. That was all the details they offered me, we'll talk more when we get there." Dean looked uncomfortably over at Sam, searching for any hint of this case impressing on Sam, of Jess's death.

"Its weird, I wonder why they would even think that there was some sort paranormal issues involved. I wonder if they thought she was channeling him before she took her life, or if the brother saw something weird as the sister died." Sam detached the grieving part of his body to fester later when he could afford to rest. "You sure this isn't just a waste of gas and time? I mean, it's pretty out of are way to have to go up through the border and risk having some random car search."

"No, I don't know why, but I think we should go and check it out." Dean rifled through the tape case looking for something, after through a couple loose crosses into the backseat, he pulled out Foreigner / Records. "Besides, their offering real money, money, you know what we are seriously lacking. It will feel good to actually pay in cash, or you know have change to get something out a vending machine, you know be like the rest of the population."

"So, either you're psychic, the only verified medium we ever come across, or you're last set of credit cards from what ever bank you are ripping off next haven't come yet." Sam had to shout the last part competing with the 70's band screaming out 'Urgent'. "Can't you turn that off, you're the one who told me to sleep."

"Sammy boy, you won't sleep, and there is no reason for me to suffer as well, besides, we have had this conversation and shotgun shuts his cake hole." Dean settled into the driving role and gradually, and painfully they made it into and through the border, with out any trouble. "That was just our good luck for the next, uh year."

Several hours later, and twenty motels, they finally checked into a decent sized room. Sam immediately lay across his bed, the further one from the door, so he wasn't the first line of defense. Reaching over for the phone he checked the clients' number with Dean and lifted the receiver off. After waiting what seemed a minute the line picked up and a hoarse male voice answered with the cracking noise of an exasperated teenager. "If it's the ghost hunters, you can stay the hell away from here. The last thing we need right now is a bunch charlatan bullshitters coming to profit off my beloved sister's death." With that the line clicked off.

"Well that was kind of short, you dial a wrong number or something?" Dean raised one of eyebrows Sam reiterated the threat, done to the tone. "Yes, we're finally going to get paid for exercising a vengeful ghost, or at least telling them it was natural death, and one of the key witness has resentful threat leveled at us." Dean collapsed into a green recliner and flicked on the television.

Sam lay against the bed and massaged aching temples, "Dean, I almost wish now that we had gotten stopped at the border now."

"Oh, quit whining, I'll phone back in a few minutes, hey they have really cheap room service!" Dean smiled and relaxed and continued thumbing through the hotel phone book. "Try to get some sleep, I'll talk to them alone tonight, you look half dead as it is, we want to inspire confidence. If there isn't some thing weird going on, I'll talk to them myself and quiet them down, assure them she wasn't bewitched or whatever."

"Dean, do you think that's going to reassure them." Sam turned his insightfuldark eyes to his older brother.

Dean paused and looked down, "No, no its not, in fact its probably worse. They have a right to know."

After a quick phone call to the Lewisons, and a very apologetic sounding mother, Dean hung up the phone and pulled on his boots, and started to walk out the door waving his brother down. "Shut up and sleep, I can handle this part on my own. Really, if there's some weird shit going on, you'll be the first I'll call."

Dean looked back at his brother sitting with a cocked head, "I'm not being nice, I just think that you look like shit, and try and relax before you give yourself heart failure."

"Good bye, Mother…" Sam's trailing words caught Dean off guard, and made him trip.

Dean turned around and flipped him off from the hallway, sending Sam into choking fit. Dean resumed his stride to the exit and walked right into some older woman's rancorous glare of being caught using obscene gestures in front of her darling children. Smiling graciously Dean sauntered off down the hallway and saw the recently established 'out of order' sign on the elevator. "Well, life can only go down from here…"

Hey if you are still with me, why don't you think about dropping a review!

No, it's not a lot of action, but that's all to come. (Maniacal laughter in background)

Update probably next Tuesday, but remember, life sucks… I'll really try hard, especially if I get lots of reviews…

If there are lots of errors, I spent forever checking so I'm hoping not, but if anyone would offer to beta, give me a shout!

And tonight's episode was bloody awesome; get that bloody, awe never mind…)

(this is a reposted version with a few corrections)

Thanks and drop a line!