Hoodwink

By: Maygin

Summary: A mysterious ghost in New York… it's all just a walk in the park for the Winchester boys.

Sidenote: It's like two in the morning as I'm writing this… please be forgiving. However reviews are more than welcome!

Disclaimer: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

Hoodwink

Dean stopped suddenly, hands on hips, resting his tired feet. "He still there?" he asked looking non-chalantly at the busy street before them.

Sam hesitantly looked over his shoulder with barely a glance before returning back to his brother. "Yeah."

Dean sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair. "Alright look- maybe you should just try talking to him."

Sam gave him his best dead-pan look to which Dean gave a questionable shrug in return. "I – am not – talking – to a ghost." He enunciated, clearly fed up with debating it.

"Why not?" he asked incredulously; his arms flinging out in exasperation. Sam's eyebrows raised as he licked his lips… an expression of expectancy crossing his features as he waited for Dean to figure it out on his own. The older brother dropped his arms in annoyance, "Alright, well maybe we should just continue to try and out-walk the stupid thing clear across the state. How does that sound?" Dean had clearly lost his patience. In fact neither brother was in a rightly state at the moment after having walked several miles already trying to lose their other-worldly chaperon.

Sam held up his hands in supplication, too tired to handle Dean's sarcasm. "Alright, FINE!" He yelled, garnering several looks from passerby's. Sam looked at the ghost about 40 feet behind them near the park entrance. They didn't know why the ghost was trailing them, or why only he could see it… but it was, and he could. Sam turned a deadly glare to his brother, "If you make one joke… just one little crack about Haley Joel after this… I swear to the un-holy realm of all things Dean, that I will drive your car off a friggin bridge." Dean snorted, a smirk on his face as his brother, straight-faced, turned and slowly made his way towards the ghost.

Dean's smirk hesitantly fell. "Se- Seriously?" His brother completely ignored him. Dean's eyes widened. "Sam?" He jogged to catch up with the younger Winchester. "You know, you've got some serious anger issues we need to work out." He jested as he paced along side his brother.

"Oh you think I'm joking?" Sam asked without breaking eye contact with the ghost that was simply standing there… just standing there, stupidly as they walked towards him finally.

"Sam, the day I let you back into the drivers seat of my baby will be the day I dawn a dress." Sam stopped and turned to look at his brother, head tilted and an odd expression on his face.

"What?" Dean asked as he stopped as well.

"Oh… I'm just trying to imagine you in a frilly pink dress." He nodded, "You look good."

Dean scoffed, hands on hips. "Man you are just letting loose today aren't you?"

"You got something to tell me Dean? Feeling a little light in the loafer's maybe?"

"Oh that is it! You are so walkin home little brother."

"I don't think so." Sam responded coolly with a smug smile.

"Oh really?" Dean crossed his arms in a most confident and defiant stance. "Need I remind you, that car you were so blithely threatening to drive off a "friggin bridge"" Dean emphasized with his fingers, "happens to belong to meI own it. Which means I get to say who or what, in your case, comes near it."

Sam nodded in defeat, looking at the ground. "You're right." He conceded, his voice more calm and slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. "The car does belong to you and you do have say over who drives it and where." Dean dawned a smug victory smile. Sam looked up into his brothers eyes, "but not without these." His hand slipped from his pocket, a pair of keys dangling and glinting in the sunlight.

Dean froze… eyes glued on the pair of swinging passports to his baby. Neither moved. And compared to the throng of city life around them, it was like a bubble where time no longer existed suddenly erected around the brothers.

"How did you get those?" Dean asked feeling awkwardly off-guard.

Sam casually looked at the city-dwellers moving all around them in the park. "Well you kept telling me I needed to work on my pick-pocketing skills. You know… in case of an emergency." The last was said in a clearly accusatory manner.

Dean swallowed nervously, and gave a little nod. "Friggin bridge huh?" he asked meekly.

"A very high one." Sam responded after a beat.

With a nod, Dean gave a small gesture towards where he thought his brother had last seen his little tag-along specter. "So what do you wanna do about the spook?"

Sam had barely turned his head to look at the ghost before he was dodging his brother's desperate lunge for the keys. Though decidedly unhappy about the situation, Dean had to admit, he'd never seen his little brother move so fast in his life; he must've known he was going to make a move. He tore off after him. All bets were off now. The crowds of people in the park, Casper, and pretty much all other life forms became non-existent to the two brothers sprinting across the well-manicured grass; hopping over picnic baskets, dodging Frisbees, cursing and dodging trees.

Sam let a few colorful words fly as some idiot's dog almost ran him down in an attempt to catch the stick his owner had thrown. The momentary pause gave Dean the second he needed to make a flying leap and tackle his younger sibling.

Both boys went down hard, rolling on the grass. "Give me those damn keys!" Dean grated out as he pulled Sam's arm behind him, his other hand reaching for the precious object.

"Over his dead body!" Sam strained still seeing his ghostly stalker out of the corner of his eye. He rolled to the left, pulling Dean with him, managing to end up on top while trying to free his other hand from his brother's grasp.

Dean let out a snort of laughter in-between grunts of effort at his brother's jest. "Maybe… you should ask your new buddy…" he managed to work a leg up in between him and his sibling, "for some divine intervention." He growled the last part as his leg pushed as hard as he could on his brother's abdomen.

Sam went flying backwards, landing hard on his butt and rolling head over heel. Amazingly enough he landed back on his feet, stumbling a bit… but still on his feet. "Who needs divine intervention when I've got Shirley Temple to back me up?" he gestured to his brother in-between gasps for air.

Dean hardly noticed the rather large crowd of people they had un-wittingly attracted as he let out an in-human growl and charged his brother. Sam saw it coming and knew how to bare the brunt of it – somewhat safely. However, unknown to the pair of dueling banjos, they'd rolled and fought themselves to the edge of a steep embankment. At the bottom of the 8 foot drop was what could only be described as a sand-trap. But neither brother questioned the odd pit at the edge of the park, for both were too busy trying to pull oxygen into their resisting lungs. They both laid there winded and pained.

"Keys." Dean rasped, unmoving on his back.

"No." Sam's voice sounded a bit muffled as he too lay unmoving, on his stomach with his head resting in the crook of an arm.

Dean managed to move an arm after a tremendous effort, and pointed pathetically at his brother, "Don't make me come over there."

It was Sam's turn to laugh, although it sounded more like a diversion from his throbbing body. "What are you gonna do… spit on me?" He asked incredulously.

"Hey, I'm the one who taught you how to spit you ungrateful snot."

"Are you gonna teach me to play hop-scotch next princess?"

"Gimme those keys!" Dean yelled as he felt a new wave of adrenaline pulse through his veins. He rolled on top of his brother who had obviously also found his own reserves and was once more on the defense. They fought and rolled around in the shaded sand pit, grunting and struggling. Neither threw punches… it wasn't that type of fight. There was a goal, and high amounts of frustration were being released to accomplish that goal.

The brothers were mostly able to ignore the concerned gasps and cheers from the crowd above until one solitary, high-pitched scream pierced their concentration. Both boys froze mid-struggle and looked up to see a young mother pointing at them with wide frightened eyes. Not seconds later the rest of the crowd was gasping and murmuring amongst themselves.

Dean and Sam both turned their heads to look to their right. Not two feet away, a man's head was half un-buried from the sand… sightless eyes staring at them. The two young men scrambled to their feet and backed to the edge of the pit, a comfortable distance away.

It was then that the cities law enforcement decided to step in. Seeing as they'd been there to break up a fight, they were a bit shocked to find a dead body in the city's treasured park. They quickly took control of the situation and started pushing the crowd back. Dean and Sam were immediately forgotten as they too were shoved away.

The two stood there in shock, watching as two more cops showed up and began digging around the body. Sam frowned suddenly and tilted his head. Dean, ever-observant, lightly elbowed his brother, a question on his face.

"That's him." The youngest Winchester answered.

"That's who?"

He pointed at the corpse. "The guy… that's the guy who's been following us."

"The dude buried in the sand is the guy that's been following us?" he asked skeptically.

Sam nodded distractedly as his specter friend suddenly appeared on the other side of the pit, looking forlornly at its body for a moment before closing its eyes and disappearing altogether. "I guess he was murdered or something… needed help finding his body so his soul could ascend."

"Ascend?" his brothers tone was once more mocking.

"Whatever." Sam mumbled. The two fell silent again as they watched the circus unfold before them.

"Huh." Dean grunted.

"What?" Sam questioned without taking his eyes off the crime-scene.

"Just…taking in the irony is all." At his brothers confused look he shrugged, hands in his pockets. "Earlier when I had you in a half-nelson – which, nice defense move by the way - you said you'd give me the keys over 'his dead body'."

Sam, used to keeping up with his brother's random train of thought, shrugged in-differently. "So?"

"So it's ironic."

Sam sighed. "Why is it ironic Dean?" he asked placatingly.

Dean shrugged… a small smirk took over the corner of his lips as his hand slipped from his pocket, a small ring of keys dangling triumphantly.

Sam looked at the keys and then looked at his brother, a small smirk of his own appearing.

"What?" Dean asked, knowing his brother was going to try an offense of some kind. He was ready for anything this time.

The younger Winchester shook his head, his smile growing as he turned and started painfully walking back the way they'd come. He knew his brother would follow.

Dean didn't disappoint. He stiffly caught up to Sam and paced along side him, confused, yet wary of his brother's angle in this offense. He decided to try and weaken his brother's odd offense with a well-known offense of his own… annoyance. "You wanna tell me what's so funny Sammy-boy?"

The younger Winchester drew in a deep breath to try and belay his annoyance at the nick-name. It didn't work… "Those aren't your keys." He blurted out on exhale.

"Please." Dean scoffed; quite disappointed in his brothers lame attempt to undermine him.

"Look at them Dean. Those aren't your keys."

Suddenly hesitant in his victory, Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket once more and looked at them closely. "

"I think those are my old apartment keys." Sam laughed.

"Why the hell do you carry around old apartment keys?" he growled, pissed off that he'd been showed up by his little brother twice in one day.

Sam just gave a small shrug, watching the grass pass beneath his feet as they both shuffled painfully through the park.

Dean mentally kicked himself, knowing it was a stupid and inconsiderate thing to ask considering their recent, past events. "Look Sam," his voice was back in normal, big-brother mode. "I'm done trekking across friggin up-state New York. All I wanna do is go back to the hotel, take hot shower, about 15 Tylenol and sleep for the next three days."

"That sounds nice." His brother agreed longingly.

"Alright, then give me the keys." He held his hand out knowing the game was over.

"I dropped them."

"What!" Dean stopped in his tracks. "When?"

Sam stopped too with a sigh, turning towards his brother. "About the 11th tree back when that squirrel almost took my head off."

"You mean where that punk kid was throwing gummi bears at us?"

"That's the one."

Dean quickly turned around and started taking in the numerous trees now surrounding them. There was no way… there were like, a hundred trees in and around the area they had run amok… and with all the people now near the crime scene, it was impossible to determine where they'd been at the time their salvation was lost. Dean felt his shoulders droop despondently… he wanted to cry.

Sam gently rested his hand upon his brothers shoulder in a moment of support before turning around and once more walking back the way he now thought they'd come. "Oh and Dean?" he turned half-way, to look back at his brother. "It's Sam." His hand slipped from his pocket displaying a shiny pair of keys, a huge, victorious smile plastered on his face before taking off.

"Son-of-a-"

THE END