A few of my page breaks disappeared so I am reposting.

I own nothing


Julia knew the local legends, grew up hearing the stories, but still felt a thrilling swoop in her stomach when her sister's boyfriend Todd said, "I'm bored. Let's go to Black Island."

The boat was Todd's dad's boat: a small speedboat that barely fit the three of them. Her sister kept flashing Julia nervous glances, obviously wondering why they agreed to the adventure. Julia shrugged, looking at Todd, who was steering them toward a looming island.

The island was abandoned, looking almost uncharted, sitting in the middle of a river. The locals never went there, they were too afraid, and the few who did never came back. Or, that's what everyone said. There was no real proof, and most kids were caught before they could reach the wooded landmass.

"Here we are," Todd announced as the boat thumped against the island. He turned it off, pocketing the keys, and jumped onto shore. He extended his hand to Janice, Julia's sister, and helped her onto land. He promptly walked away seconds later, allowing Julia to get off the boat by herself.

"Chivalry's not dead, you just have to be sleeping with it," Julia mumbled as she landed on the dirt. She walked away from the boat, quickly following her sister and Todd. She was surprised they weren't all over each other; it seemed like that was the only thing they ever did.

Half the time she was stuck guarding the car while they did things that would make Virgin Mary blush. Instead of guarding them, however, she spent the time hanging out at nearby establishments. After guarding them for so long she knew exactly how long it lasted. It was sad she knew that at all, but what could she really do?

"Did either of you bring a flashlight," Julia called and received a shrug from Todd and a soft, "No," from Janice.

"I might have something," she murmured digging in her coat pocket. Besides her phone, which wasn't charged, she found three quarters and a gum wrapper. "Guess not," Julia whispered.

"We don't need a flashlight," Todd said quietly. "We've got the moon." He was right, the moon was full and shined above them illuminating a path. Putting his arm around Janice, he said, "Let's go find the guy's house." They began walking, every step cracking twigs or crunching leaves.

Julia stood still for a moment, watching them continue walking. She was starting to regret agreeing to this escapade. No one had stepped foot near the house-that she knew of-since Jeremy died. People had said Jeremy died there, died in the house, but that was never proven either. The only thing she knew for sure was the house had been set on fire. And that it sounded extremely creepy and highly dangerous.

A shiver ran up her spine as the wind began to blow, the trees swayed with the sudden airstream. She glanced around, frighteningly aware of the lack of cracking sticks and crunching leaves, of footsteps in general.

"Janice, Todd," she called waiting for them to answer. Nothing followed. So, she tried again, "Janice! Todd!" still nothing. She started ahead, expecting one of them to jump out from behind a tree-most likely Todd while Janice laughed behind him. Instead, she found no trace of either one of them.

"Guys, this isn't funny," she said her breath coming in quicker gasps. What she heard next made her stop breathing all together. A loud, high pitched scream filled the air before cutting off abruptly.

"Hello," she called her voice a mere whisper. A second, much deeper scream, answered her. Her heart was thudding in her chest, her eyes stinging with tears. "Janice." she whimpered looking around. "I…I'm serious. I…I'll tell Mom." She knew she sounded six, but she was scared.

"Julia," someone whispered, or was it the wind? A stick cracked behind her causing her to whirl around. There was no one, just the river and the boat. "Julia." She turned in a circle, still seeing nothing.

"Hello," she called shaking from head to foot.

"Boo," a voice said directly behind her. She turned slowly, a fog of breath escaping her lips, and nearly collapsed. A tall, bearded man stood inches from her. He had blood all over his head, the liquid dripping onto his already soaked white shirt. He was holding a bat, red staining the wood, lightly tapping his open palm with it. His blue eyes were two pairs of ice cold balls, searing into her soul. She'd never seen him before, but a small part of her brain screamed that it was Jeremy Black.

"W…What…" her voice was weak, a mere gust of air between her teeth. Black's pale lips turned upward in a smile, the smile as cold as his eyes. The last thing Julia saw was the bat swinging at her…


2 days later…

The bed was soft beneath his back, his eyes were closed. He was enjoying the moment of silence, allowing the past couple of days to float to the back of his mind for the time being. He was drifting off when he felt something drip onto his head. What the hell, he thought opening his eyes. What he saw made his breath catch in his throat.

"NO!" he shouted watching as Jess burst into flames. Her eyes were on him, face frozen in fear and pain. Despite the situation she still managed to squeeze two words out of her mouth, "Why Sam?"

Sam jerked awake, heart thudding against his chest. He wiped furiously at the two tears that managed to escape, taking a deep shuddering breath. He glanced over at his brother, curled over on his side and oblivious to what was going on. The moon, from the open curtain, caught his pale face causing Dean to turn onto his other side.

Sam checked his watch, surprised to see he had gotten at least three hours of sleep. It's a start, he thought pushing the covers off himself. He stole another glance at Dean, happy his brother was asleep. Sometimes Dean's hovering really bugged Sam. His constant nitpicking, asking if he were okay, wanting to know what secret he had used to summon Bloody Mary.

That was a conversation Sam didn't want to have. Both of them had had it drilled into their heads, from a young age, that the supernatural wasn't something to be messed with. Sam managed to break free of that belief, had actually asked questions. Whereas Dean-single-minded, revenge driven Dean-saw everything inhuman as evil, and to tell him about these dreams…visions…powers would start a chain reaction Sam didn't want to experience. So he kept mum, hoping they were just nightmares of a perfectly rational fear that came true.

But as always, when he attempted to convince himself he was not clairvoyant, the 'came true' part hit him. Jess's death, a death he had dreamt about for days before hand, had happened; had occurred exactly as he had seen it in his dreams. God, why is this happening to me, he aimed at the ceiling. He didn't get an answer.

Sam sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. His feet touched the cold wooden floor, a shiver rippling through him. He pushed himself to his feet, wrapping his arms around himself. He headed toward the door, opening it to reveal the night and an abandoned parking lot.

The old motel hadn't been used for a while, especially when the only car they had seen, since their arrival, was their own. Dean hadn't wanted to waste money on another motel room, since they were only stopping for the night. Ah, the joys of squatting, Sam thought stepping back and closing the door.

He headed toward his bag, intending to get dressed, but froze when he a heard a ringing. He glanced around, trying to determine where the ringing was coming from. Draped across an old, dilapidated chair was Dean's blue jacket, and the ringing seemed to be coming from that.

He crossed the room, picking the jacket up. He dug in the pockets, finding the phone shoved in the inside pocket. He checked the ID, Jefferson's name looking back at him.

He flipped the phone open and said, "Jeff?"

"Sam? Holy shit, Sam? Sam Winchester? What's it been, like five years?"

"Something like that," Sam replied with a smile on his face. He remembered the last time they had seen Jefferson Michaels. John had gotten in an argument with him over something completely stupid-like how most of John's disagreements started-and punches had been thrown. It stopped when Dean, always the mediator, tried to step in and ended up punched in the face. Neither John nor Jeff could tell who hit Dean, but one of them did and the fight instantly came to a halt. They hadn't spoken to Jefferson since.

Smile no longer on his face, Sam cleared his throat and said, "What's up?"

"I have a message for you," Jefferson responded sobering up, too. "It's from…" he trailed off almost as if he were unsure how to continue.

"Who Jeff? Who's it from?" Sam asked already knowing the answer. It had to be from him, no one else would give his kids a message via someone-or something-else.

"Your dad," Jeff confirmed Sam's suspicions. "He called last night, asked me to relay something, and gave me Dean's cell number."

"And you just agreed?" Sam was frustrated with his father. The man could easily give his kids jobs, but he couldn't take ten minutes to answer his damn phone. Even if it was to reassure the two people who really cared about him that he was okay. He begrudgingly had to admit that calling Jefferson was confirmation of his well-being, but it still wasn't enough.

"I asked him why he wasn't calling Dean himself, but he hung up to avoid answering. You know your dad; he'd rather shoot his foot off than share anything remotely close to his feelings."

"I know someone else like that," Sam muttered glancing over at his sleeping brother. Dean could be gushing blood from a giant hole in his side and still try to convince Sam he was perfectly okay.

"I'm a silent sufferer," Jeff' protested, misinterpreting Sam's words. The younger hunter rolled his eyes, sighed, and said, "What's the message, Jeff?"

"There's an island in Michigan…"

"An island? In Michigan? Wow, that's an awesome message."

"I'm not done, smartass," Jeff retorted but Sam could still hear the smile in his voice. "It's a small landmass in the middle of a river. Down in a small town called Firestone. I did a little research and the island is reportedly haunted by a spirit named Jeremy Black. Legend has it he was killed and buried somewhere on that island. Most locals won't go near it because whoever steps foot on the island is never seen again. But that's just the legend.

"There was, however, a boat found on the island yesterday, owned by James Fairborn. His son, his son's girlfriend, and her sister are missing. Police scoured the island, but haven't found them. They did, however, find blood splattered across the ground. They're getting the samples tested…"

"How much you wanna bet it's the blood of those kids?" Sam shook his head, not really wanting to deal with another spirit so soon after Mary Worthington. His nightmares were bad before he summoned Mary, now they were worse. When he wasn't plagued with Jess asking him 'Why' every night, he was often visited by himself demanding to know why he didn't say anything sooner. Why he didn't protect her? Why? Why? Why? He didn't know why, not really, and he really wished people-either in a dream or in real life-would stop asking him that particular question.

"I'm almost sure of it. Look, that's all I got. You wanna check it out, have at it. If you don't, I ain't doing anything…"

"No, we'll check it out," Sam replied glancing over at his brother, again. Hair sticking up, bloodshot green eyes giving him a curious look, Dean had officially joined the land of the awake.

"Check what out," Dean asked after clearing his throat. Sam held up a finger, telling him to wait a minute.

"Tell Small Fry I say 'hi."

"I will," Sam reassured the older hunter.

"And remember, despite your daddy's flaws he will always love you boys. He may be avoiding you to protect you." Jefferson said good-bye after that and Sam snapped the phone shut.

"What's up?" Dean asked rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"We have a job," Sam replied putting Dean's phone back in his coat pocket.

"Who was on the phone?" his brother pushed the covers off himself, quickly getting to his feet.

"Jefferson," Sam replied heading toward his bag.

"What'd he want?" Dean asked walking toward his own bag.

"Dad called him." the younger Winchester glanced at his brother, waiting for any type of reaction. Instead he got the patented Winchester 'emotionless mask'-the exact same mask that Dean had perfected by the age of six. "Dad gave him a location and asked him to relay the message to us."

"Where are we headed," Dean questioned pulling on a pair of jeans. Just once Sam would love to know what his brother was thinking. The emotionless crap got real old real fast. Sometimes Sam contemplated grabbing his brother by the shoulders and shaking him until he said something remotely true about his feelings. Of course, he was no better. Keeping his guilt towards Jess's death locked up, sealed in a box deep in the back of his head, wasn't exactly sharing and caring either.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was like a whip, sending Sam back to the present. "Where are we going?"

"Michigan. A small town in Michigan."