Hey all! Thanks for such a wonderful response! I have a couple of stories in the works that I can't wait to get started on, but after hearing so much about this story I decided to add at least one more in the series, while I'm still working on my other projects. Please enjoy and review! :) Oh, and I'm posting a short chapter of my next story! Please read and tell me what you think and whether or not I should continue! :) Thanks!


Screams. Horrible, blood-curdling, soul-jerking screams echoed around him, paralysing him with horror, an overwhelming urge to do something, anything to ease the sufferings of whoever the screamer was. "JUST STOP! PLEASE, JUST STOP!" He couldn't handle any more. The growing suspicion that he knewthe screamer just wouldn't stop nagging at him and every passing second, every horrible echo, made the feeling grow stronger.

That's when it hit him.

"SAM!"

His baby brother.

The screams took on a whole new meaning, each scream ripping a piece of him apart, shredding him slowly and agonizingly. "SAMMY! SAM! NO! SAM!" He looked around, but he was surrounded by scenes of Sam, no more than a child, an older teen, a young adult, all screaming. Different memories, each horrible in their own right. Sam's first vision, Sam's first vision at school, Sam collapsing in a parking lot from another vision, Sam lying limp in his arms at a long forgotten park, barely breathing, Sam taking the knife to the chest that was meant for him, bleeding, dying, Sam being tortured by that Yellow Eyed $%^^$, the earth screaming around them, ripping itself to pieces with the force of the storm responding to his suffering. It'll never end. Who do I help first? What do I do? Surrounded by his worst nightmare, Dean just didn't know what to do. Dying, Sam was dying, always dying. What do I do? Sam! Sam, no! Don't leave me! Please Sammy, don't die! "SAMMY! SAM! SAMMY, PLEASE! NO!"

"Dean!"

"SAMMY!"

"Dean, wake up! You're dreaming, man, wake up!"

Dean sat up in bed, chest heaving, quickly glancing around him, taking in every detail. Sam, sitting on the bed beside him, looking thoroughly freaked and worried. The darkness outside. The freaking ugly yellow wallpaper of their motel room. I was dreaming.

Dean's muscles relaxed and he turned to give his brother a better look.

Sam was watching him, looking worried, even frightened, and Dean realized he must have been crying out for Sam in his sleep. How embarrassing.

"I'm fine, Sam. Go back to sleep."

Sam eyed him skeptically, but he couldn't quite banish the fear in his eyes. "Dean, you were screaming, man."

Dean sighed. How ironic. "Heaven knows we've seen enough in this job to have plenty of reasons for unpleasant dreams, Sam. I'm fine. It's not the first nightmare I've had, it won't be the last." Oh, please, let it be the last. No more of those. Any nightmares but those.

Sam sighed, but nodded. "Alright. Just...wake me if...if you need me, okay?" Clapping a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder, Sam stood and returned to his own bed.

Dean laid back down, but he knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep that night.

...

"I think it's a spirit." Sam announced the next morning.

The hunt they were on had seemed pretty straight forward at first, but after another death was added to the rising toll, they knew it wasn't going to be as easy as they had thought initially.

"All the signs are there." Dean agreed. "Flickering lights, cold spots, heck even my watch stopped."

Sam nodded. "Alright. Now we just have to figure out who it is."

...

A morning at the library produced the information they needed.

"Okay. There have been 12 deaths due to drowning in the lake in the last two years. The first of that twelve seems to me like it's the most violent, the most likely to be, ah, ghost producing."

Dean snorted at that. "Ghost producing?" he teased.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Shut up. Anyway, two years ago, on April 23rd, 25 year old Max Stevens went out on a boat with his buddies on the lake. There was a storm and the boat came back without him. He was reported to have fallen off and immediately gone under. They couldn't find him in the storm. So, about a month later, we have another drowning in the lake. The month after that, there's another. And so on and so forth. Each of the deaths was on the 23rd of that month and each occurred in the late afternoon, which was when the worst of the storm hit the lake and about when Max died." Sam explained.

Dean nodded, absorbing the information, then asked the key question. "His body?"

Sam winced.

That's not good. Dean sighed. "What?"

"They pulled his body out of the lake and his parents had him cremated."

Dean fell back on the motel bed with a loud groan of frustration.

"So what is he attached to? The boat?"

Sam's brows furrowed as he thought. "A year after the accident, the boat sank. It's at the bottom of the lake. But what else could he be tied to? His ashes?"

Dean shook his head. "Unlikely. Anything he was wearing saved? A necklace, shirt, pants, underwear, anything?" Dean smirked.

Sam sighed. "No. Not that I've been able to find."

"My guess is the boat then." Dean didn't sound happy at that.

"Well...crap. Now what?"

...

"This is a stupid idea."

"What? No it's not! It's brilliant."

"Dean, this is never going to work!"

"Why not?"

"It's just not!"

"You have some vision you didn't tell me about?"

"No."

"Then you have no way of knowing this won't work!"

Sam sighed. "Dean. I know the telekinesis is handy, but come on, man, I haven't lifted anything heavier than you. How am I going to lift a boat?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Did you just call me fat?"

Sam threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "You're impossible."

Dean simply grinned. "Thank you. I do try."

The boat sped along on the lake, Sam tracking their movements on the map, directing Dean towards the supposed site of the boat's resting place on the bottom of the lake.

"Here, Dean."

Dean stopped the boat, heading cautiously over to the edge. "So he's not supposed to attack, right? It's the 22nd, so we should be safe. Supposedly."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. But if he realizes what we're trying to do, he'll defend himself."

Dean grimaced. "Let's do this quickly then. I'd rather not have to stop a ghost from drowning you."

Sam frowned. "Why me? It isn't necessarily going to drown me."

"Uh, Sam, everything goes for you. It's like a supernatural rule or something."

Sam chuckled. "I suppose I can't really argue with that." Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mind, searching for the remains of the boat. His mind clamped down on something and Sam realized he had found what he was looking for.

"Just put in on the distant shore, Sammy. We want it as far away from any prying eyes as possible." Dean warned, softly, trying not to break his concentration.

Sam nodded, just as his mind exploded with a desperate warning. "DEAN!"

Too late. The ghost's invisible hands grabbed Dean, pulling him out of the boat and into the water.

"DEAN!" Sam leaned over the edge, unconsciously, as he immediately lashed out with his mind, doing a mental equivalent of slapping the ghost upside the head hard to stun it (hopefully) long enough that he could grab Dean.

The ghost simply responded with a mental push back that sent Sam reeling back and falling hard to the floor of their boat.

Desperate, Sam reached out with his mind and latched onto the writhing form of his brother. He couldn't see him, but he could feel it, his mind attuned to Dean's in a way that it was to no one else's. He wrapped his own invisible hold around his brother and pulled.

The ghost fought back, but Sam wasn't a Winchester for no reason. He had inherited the famous Winchester stubborn streak and perhaps held the title of most stubborn. At least where Dean's life was concerned. With another hard pull, the ghost lost its grip on his big brother and Sam quickly pulled Dean to the surface. Reaching over the edge, Sam grabbed Dean's shirt collar and hauled his lifeless form up into the boat.

"Dean? Hey, man, can you hear me?" Panic filled the youngest Winchester's mind as he registered the stillness of Dean's limbs, chest. Desperately, Sam knocked Dean on the back hard several times and immediately Dean came to life, coughing up water.

Roles reversed for once, Sam rubbed Dean on the back, hoping it was as soothing to Dean as it always had been to him.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam asked once Dean finally stilled.

Dean nodded, breathlessly. "Yeah. Stupid ghost." he threw his baby brother an amused look. "Did you seriously just have a tug of war with that ghost with my body?"

Sam smirked. "Yeah. Didn't have a rope."

Dean snorted, falling back to the floor of the boat with a sigh. "I hate ghosts."

"You hate everything."

"Do not. I love women. I love the Impala. And sometimes I like you. When you aren't being a little #%#$."

"Jerk. That's not a very nice thing to say to the man who just saved your life."

"Hey, with as many times as I've saved your life? You aren't even close to even with me. I get to make fun of you for the rest of your natural and unnatural life, baby brother."

Sam sighed. "I figured."

The boat suddenly rocked violently.

Sam cursed, pushing himself to his feet, gesturing for Dean to stay down on the floor. "You're less likely to get yanked out of the boat that way and I'm not going to get yanked out." Sam gave a quick explanation to his irritated brother. Closing his eyes, Sam moved faster this time, reaching out for the boat. Come on, come on. I gotta be able to do this. It's the only way. Finding the boat, he wrapped his power around it, took a deep breath, then pulled. The ghost fought him, but Sam was stronger and knew he was. The boat remains rose out of the water, hovering for a second, before Sam managed to move them over to the distant shore, deeper into the trees to avoid it being seen before they were ready. As soon as he set it down, the boat rocked violently again, the spirit furious and showing it.

He turned to look at Dean to see his brother staring at him incredulously. "I don't believe it."

Sam grinned at him, a challenging smirk crossing his face. "That is why you fail."

Dean gave him a confused look, then rolled his eyes. "Yoda. Right. Geez. I'm supposed to be the Star Wars quoter, Sammy. Did you scramble those brains of yours?"

"No. Just decided I wanted to be Yoda instead of Luke for once."

"You'll always be Luke to me, princess."

"Shut up."

...

A few hours later, they sat watching the boat burn. Dean turned to Sam, a pleased look on his face. "You did good, Sam."

Sam gave him a small smile, more shy than it usually was. Compliments from Dean always meant the world to him, his brother's approval being one of the few things that kept him going, especially after he began to have visions and he grew more distant from his father than ever. Growing up, Dean really had been the one to raise him, not John, taking the role of older brother, mother, and father.

"Thanks, Dean." he said softly.

Dean simply nodded, already having turned back to the boat.

A comfortable silence followed, then Dean finally announced it was time to go. "Someone will see the smoke soon and we want to be out of here before they get here. The boat's pretty much gone anyway."

Sam followed his brother out of the clearing, falling into step beside him once they hit the path leading to the parking lot.

"Where to next, Dean?"

"Don't know. Any hunts come up?"

Sam hesitated. "Well, there's one. It's a weird one though."

Dean grinned. "Bring it on."