Episode Two: As The Crow Flies

Fandom: Supernatural

Category/Rated: Slash, NC-17

Year/Length: 2009, ~10,647 words

Pairing: Sam and Dean

Disclaimer: No profit was made off this. The characters belong the originators of Supernatural. Was all in pure fun.

Warning: violence/sexual content

Summary: The brothers investigate murders that seem more than mere turf wars.

Series: Virtual Slash Season Four

Beta: Sharon Marais

"People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right."

As they drove away from Harrisburg, Sam had settled down to sleep. He was battered and bruised, and every muscle ached. It didn't take long for him doze off. He had no idea how long he'd been sleeping when he started to dream, but when the dream hit, it seemed so real that he almost felt like he was there. The two of them had driven into Las Vegas, and Sam had won a jackpot. He was basking in pleasure as the hotel manager showed them up to a complimentary suite, and loving watching Dean's face alight with joy as he counted the sheaf of hundred dollar bills he'd been handed.

When the car stopped, and he was jerked into wakefulness, he struggled to get to grips with his surroundings, sitting up and looking around, he swiftly realized that he was in the Impala, and that Dean had stopped for fuel. "Jeez, why'd you have to wake me? I was having the best dream ever," he whispered as Dean prepared to get out of the car.

Dean gazed at his brother, looking down at Sam's lap then back at him with a curl of his lip. "Wasn't that good," he teased as he climbed out the car. "If you need to let the snake out, better go," he added. "And get me something to eat while you're in there." He went around to the rear of his car, pulling the plate down and taking the gas cap off. Putting the nozzle into the fuel tank, he leaned against his baby, waiting for Sam. He passed the time watching his brother walk.

Dean got a big kick out of it - not just keeping an eye on his brother but actually watching him walk as he admired the way his brother's body moved. It turned Dean on in ways no one would guess - probably not even Sam. He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets to make sure that his arousal was kept secret as well.

Moodily, Sam made his way over to the store to pour a couple of coffees and grabbed a couple of sandwiches, some potato chips and a bunch of candy, reaching for the things he knew were Dean's favorites. Up at the counter, he paid for the haul and headed back out to the car. "We should totally go to Vegas," he said to Dean as he was putting the cap back on the gas tank. "I dreamed about it. I won a jackpot, dude, and I was gonna take you to see Blue Oyster Cult." He blushed as he recalled the rest of his dream. "You got off with a really hot woman too."

Dean froze as he listened to Sam recounting his dream and cursed silently. Somehow the events of the year that never was were bleeding over. That was absolutely not supposed to happen. "Las Vegas? Dude, have you ever known us to be that lucky?" Dean walked around the car. "Though the hot girl ..." He gave Sam a smile. "Get in the car with your wet dreams, Sammy boy." He climbed in behind the wheel, taking his coffee from Sam and sipping it, sighing happily. He smirked at Sam, grabbed his collar and then pulled him over to give him a quick kiss. "Maybe some other time." Some other lifetime, Dean thought to himself.

"I'm not kidding," murmured Sam. "It was almost like a vision. I'm telling you, man, I can't lose. We should go." He frowned at his brother, who was grimly fixing his eyes on the windshield. "I thought you'd jump at it. You're always on about going to Vegas. What's different this time, dude?" He inhaled the fragrance of his coffee and then sipped. "So if not Vegas, where then?"

"Another case," Dean answered, still looking out the window. "If you're having visions, you are gonna tell me about them right? Besides, how can it be a vision? Aren't your visions usually pretty painful?" Dean was shifting the subject, but he'd done it tactfully, he hoped. "I mean, I thought you stopped having those when I killed Azazel?"

"The visions about Azazel were painful for sure," Sam nodded. "But these ones... I don't know exactly why they don't hurt, but, dude, I'm telling you these dreams are different. They're about us. They're telling me stuff about us." He shrugged his shoulders and hunched down in his seat. "I think that they're telling us about what we should do next. If we don't do it, then we're missing out on things that could help us. Like they're telling me that you have powers the way I do, but that you got kind of repressed because you saw what happened to mom. We have to see if we can unlock your powers, 'cos you're kinda like Samson after Delilah cut his hair, only you just have short hair." He laughed a little. "I have totally lost the point of this conversation, haven't I?"

Dean looked at his brother, "Yeah you have, and, dude," Dean paused, "I know you think they're real and all, but it's not stuff we should do next. Just... let it go." Dean wished Sam would stop talking about the dreams. He'd righted things. He knew he had. He'd made the deal with the Trickster to take him back and get his brother back, and the living proof of his success was sitting shotgun beside him.

His words made Sam frown, and he gazed at Dean for a moment, trying to fathom his meaning. Eventually he shrugged. He wouldn't press it now, but he wouldn't forget, either. "So you want to tell me what sort of a case we're chasing this time? You seem to have a plan. Wanna share with the class?"

Dean reached around behind him. "Grab the wheel will ya." He stretched his arm back as the car swerved a little, reaching for the paper and dropping it in Sam's lap. "I'm thinking vengeful spirit of sorts," He smiled at Sam. "Will keep us up to snuff for a while."

He'd grabbed the wheel and held it, and now Sam took the paper from Dean, tempted to smack him around the back of the head. "Dude, you wanna kill us both before our time?" he asked his brother. Dean shrugged, and Sam turned the paper over. "We going all the way down to Alabama?" he asked, starting to read.

The article was brief, but it talked about strange deaths and animals behaving in an odd manner. When he reached the part where the cow had apparently run amok and gored a farmer who was leading it to milking, Sam set down the paper and turned to his brother. "Dude, you can't be serious! What do you think this is? A possessed cow? What?"

"That's why I keep you around, little bro, you are suppose to be the brains. I'm the brawn." Dean glanced at his brother. "Dude, there has to be something else going on. Animals are known to see things we can't, like spirits. Something spooked that cow and the other animals, too. Look, it won't hurt for us to check it out."

"I guess," murmured Sam, dubiously. "And if we never found out what spooked the cow, I guess we can wait til after dark and tip it." He snickered as Dean frowned and groped in the bag of goodies for a pack of cookies. "Okay, let's go see Billy-Joe and Jim-Bob and their haunted cow. We haven't exorcised a cow before. It'll be a first."

This was truly farm country. The largest town nearby only had thirty-five thousand people, but at least it had a Wal-mart and a couple of pizza delivery places. They were a godsend, and Dean was happy to see the fast food joints and diners as they drove in to the center. Quickly finding a motel, they checked in, parked the car and Dean went out to find a local paper. When he returned he was bearing beer as well as the paper. "Dude, its so gonna be hard to hide what we are."

"In what way?" Sam raised his eyebrows. "You mean they all know about demons round here, or what?" He was busily sorting laundry as he spoke, and sniffed at a T-shirt, grimaced and tossed it onto the pile for washing. "Dude, how come all my stuff smells like ancient sin. I've been a good boy all my life; it's just not fair." He tipped out the rest of his duffel and surveyed it. "Might as well do the whole lot and the bag I keep it in too. You want me to take anything of yours? It's a one time offer; speak now, or forever hold it."

Dean had pulled his jacket off and tossed it over a chair. He went to his bag and began adding clothing to join Sam's pile. Once the bag was empty, he started taking off the clothes he was wearing. "One time offer huh?" he grinned, wadding up his tee shirt and tossing it at Sam. He started undoing his pants, watching his brother the whole time to see his reaction.

"Shake it this way, and I'll stuff your g-string full of dollar bills," smirked Sam. The words were flippant, but he couldn't take his eyes off Dean either. As Dean's jeans hit the pile, Sam walked around the bed and reached to touch Dean's cheek. "Dean? I wish you'd relax a little about us. We don't look alike, and we never use our real names. How could anyone begin to guess what we are?"

Dean looked at him, "Because," Dean paused, "If I relax, that's when you'll be taken from me, like everyone else, and I can't live like that." Dean leaned in, kissing his brother. "I love you, Sam, you know it, can't that be enough?" Green eyes met hazel before Dean pulled him in and kissed him again, plastering his body against Sams.

"I love you too. I always have." Sam gave him a long, searching look and then moaned softly, melting against Dean as he returned the kiss with interest. "No way will you lose me. I'll fight for you if I have to, but I warn you, if you try to push me away I won't let you."

Dean looked up at his brother from under long lashes, his eyes filled with lust. His hands had reached out of their own accord and were working on Sam's pants, pulling them open and starting to shove them off his brother's hips. Dean wanted to tell Sam that he'd already done so, but that was water under the bridge now. This was now. He pushed his brother back onto the bed and moved over to pull Sam's pants the rest of the way off his legs. Crawling up his body, Dean hovered over his brother, looking down at him.

"God." The word was choked out, Sam's voice breathless as he gazed into eyes that were bright as jewels. He slid one big hand through Dean's hair, cupping the back of his head and stroking gently as his other went around Dean's waist to pull him down closer. "I'll never get tired of you. I don't want anyone else these days. All I can think about is you." He pulled Dean closer, lifted his head and nibbled on Dean's lush lower lip. "You're all I see," he murmured against the softness of Dean's mouth.

Dean lowered his body, allowing their lower halves to touch. He gently teased at Sam's lips giving tiny kisses, kisses that would barely touch, alternating with nips. He slid his hand over Sam's side, the muscles firm under his touch. Upon reaching Sam's hips, he curved his fingers around, feeling Sam's firm ass before sliding it along the back of a strong thigh muscle, pulling it to rest over his. Rocking slowly, he began rubbing their hardened cocks together.

The sheer need Sam had been feeling set his skin tingling. He ran his hands down over his brother's body, hands caressing, rubbing, learning the feel of smooth skin sliding over hard muscle. He lifted one leg to wrap around Dean's hip, using it to hold Dean while he bucked up and rubbed against him. "Want to feel you," he growled. "Want to taste you." He raised his head so he could lick along Dean's rough chin, shivering as whiskers rasped his tongue. "Want me to suck your cock?" he whispered. "I will if you like."

Dean made a throaty sound. The need and want in Sam's voice was overpowering, trumping anything Dean could possibly think. He leaned in and kissed Sam, his tongue invading his brother's mouth, and their tongues slid against each other before he pulled back. He ran a hand through Sam's thick mop then nodded. "Yeah, I would."

The smile that lit up Sam's face was like the sun coming up. He hitched his hips to roll Dean over and push him down so that he lay on his back and then propped himself up on one elbow so he could study Dean. Long fingers circled rosy nipples as he admired the firm body laid out for him, and then he bent, nibbling and licking down to Dean's groin, burying his face in the thick curls there before beginning to apply his mouth to Dean's cock. He moaned softly, tasting the salty sour juices that were leaking from it, and his fingers busied themselves down between Dean's legs, teasing and tickling as Sam took him in deep.

Dean loved running his hand through Sam's hair, and his breath hitched as Sam nipped at his skin. Dean liked his sex rough, and that was one of the reasons he liked being with Sam, because he didn't have to be so gentle. Fingers dragged lines through the dark hair as he watched his brother as he moved his way to his cock and started forming those lips around him. Dean groaned, pushing his head back and a swear was let out.

Eyes fixed up on his brother's face, Sam continued to suck, lips and tongue sliding easy over the sticky-sweet surface of Dean's cock. His own arousal temporarily forgotten, he continued to pleasure Dean, loving the way his brother writhed and arched his back in response to his teasing. He could feel the trembling in Dean's muscles as he sucked him in deep, loving that he could produce this kind of reaction in his brother. Pulling off as he felt Dean's balls draw up, Sam raised his head and smiled at him. "What do you want now?" he asked, soft voiced. "Anything you want. Anything."

Dean grabbed his brother, pulling him in and kissing him deeply. He manhandled his brother, rolling him over onto his stomach and pulling his ass up. "This is what I want," he answered as he started to push into Sam. He ran his hand over Sam's back in a loving way, but when it reached Sam's shoulder, he gripped him and pulled him back, feeling his cock plunge all the way inside him. "Fuck!" Dean groaned as he hunched over his brother and rested his forehead against his back.

Filled so full and tight, Sam spread his knees wide, wanting more. The forcible entry stung and burned, but deep inside he could feel a dull, aching pleasure, and he needed more of it. He moaned, pressing back against Dean, trying to get as much pressure as he could. He could feel Dean's breath on his spine, feel his lips trace the knobs of it and reached back to pet Dean, fingers groping to touch where they could. "Move, goddammit!" he groaned.

Dean panted for a moment, then lifted his head and grinned. He gripped Sam at the shoulder and started to work his hips. "Eager little beaver!" Dean leaned in and started kissing, biting, fucking his brother, their rocking making the bed groan. He pounded into Sam hard, pulling him back into his body, his mouth upon Sam's neck. "God, love that ass," he growled.

"What's not to love?" snickered Sam, writhing against his lover as he strove for more, deeper, harder. "Ass of champions!" Dean's mouth was wet against his neck, nipping and sucking, and Sam could feel his teeth grazing the tender skin.

Lifting himself to his knees, he reached to cling onto the bedhead with one hand as he dropped his other to his cock, bobbing and straining for contact. "Want you to touch me," he whispered, leaning back so that his head fell onto Dean's shoulder. "touch me, Dean, please."

Dean had to shift, pausing his movements for Sam to adjust. He let out a sigh against Sam's ear as he wrapped an arm around him. His hand splayed out against Sam's stomach, feeling the firm muscles twitch under his touch. He could feel Sam laboring for breath, and he loved how his brother was responding to his touch. He moved his hand down, allowing it to bump and brush that needy cock. When Sam trembled, he smiled again, licking over reddened skin. Finally, he gripped Sam's cock and started pumping it in time with his own movements.

"Like it when you beg," he confessed to his brother. "Makes me truly feel needed." He reached up with his other hand, It was written before Bad Day at Black Rock turning Sam's neck and chin in his direction so he could kiss him.

"I love it when I have to," mumbled Sam against Dean's mouth. "I'll always need you, man." He let his eyes drift closed as he opened his mouth and fixed it to Dean's. He bucked against Dean's hand, arms reaching back to wrap around him as the two of them writhed together. "Won't be long," he gasped. "Gonna come, I can feel it."

Dean could feel the muscles of Sam's body starting to tighten. He groaned into his brother's mouth as pulled at Sam's cock to get his brother off. He allowed his tongue to tangle around Sam's, fucking him with his tongue as well as with his cock. Dean was close as well but determined to hold off till his brother came first. "Come for me, Sammy," he mouthed against Sam's lips.

"T...try and stop me." Sam was so close. The slide and pull of Dean's hand on his cock, the comfort of his brother's arms tight around him, protecting him and keeping him safe, and the knowledge that Dean wanted him all conspired to wind him tight and send him tumbling down over the edge into blissful climax. As he started to come he cried out, body arching and shuddering as he pumped out spurt after spurt of thick, white cum. His fingers clenched against the skin of Dean's hips hard enough to leave bruises, and he moaned as he burrowed his face into Dean's neck. "Fuck! I love you, man," he whispered.

Dean struggled to move against Sam's body as he felt his own release ready to flood him. He moved his wet hand from Sam's cock and ran it over his chest as he held him tightly. A few more thrusts, and Dean was coming. He groaned as his eyes closed tightly and his teeth clenched. He could feel his juices filling his brother, spurting over and over until he could no longer move. "God," he groaned as he sagged against Sam. "Love ya."

Blissfully sticky, tired and fucked out, Sam turned to put his arms around Dean and collapse with him down onto the bed. He didn't speak, merely let his fingers express his love for Dean in the gentle way they carded through his short, silky hair and traced down over his spine and the cut of his muscles. Finally feeling Dean starting to stir, he murmured, "So how are we gonna proceed? You want us to go visit the owner of the cow?"

Dean shifted to get off his brother, feeling hot, sweaty and sticky all over. He looked at his brother, "Well first, I want to sleep. Then shower. Get something to eat and then we go out as reporters or something and go interview the farmer. And if it's late enough, tip the cow." He smiled. "All that driving made me tired."

"Sleep sounds awesome, dude." Sam rolled to wrap his arm over Dean's waist, snuggling close and burying his face in Dean's hair. "Sounds like a good plan to me." He pressed a kiss against the side of Dean's head and yawned. "The rest does too," he mumbled, letting his eyes drift closed.

When Sam opened his eyes again, Dean was gone from the bed, and he could hear his brother humming to himself in the shower. He smiled and stretched luxuriously, hearing his back pop as he did so. Everything was fine. He and Dean were together, and he was feeling good.

Clambering out of the bed, he booted up the computer and started to look for information that would help them, while he waited for Dean to emerge from the bathroom and give him his turn.

Dean came out, his hair glistening with water and his body dry, towel about his waist. He knew that to accomplish their aims he was going to have to put a suit on. He hated those things, no matter how good he looked in them. Walking over to dig for clean socks and underwear at the bottom of his duffel, he turned to whack Sam's shoulder. "Your turn, Cinderella." He finally succeeded in finding something to wear and sat down to put it on. "You see any decent places to eat around here?"

"Yeah. There's a Denny's a couple of blocks away, or a steak house a little further. There's a diner too, but it closes early. Guess they cater mostly for breakfast and lunch." Sam scratched his belly as he turned the computer towards his brother. "Also found this," he said, indicating an article that he'd got on the screen. It focused on the apparent hard luck that was being visited on the ranch where their haunted cow had gone berserk. "Dude, it isn't just a cow. Their teenage brother died under suspicious circumstances, and as yet, no killer's been brought to justice. Since that time, there seem to have been a steady flow of dreadful things happening. Check it out."

Dean pulled his socks on before getting up and padding over. He sat down, turning the computer towards him, motioning Sam to shower as he started reading. He paused for a moment between paragraphs to get more clothing, and soon he had his pants and shirt on, tie about his neck but not tied. He frowned, looking at the article Sam had found before doing a further search for news of the teenage boy who'd been killed, to see what the papers would say.

As he read on, he wondered if this family had a history of abuse. He turned his attention towards the family, trying to pull up pubic records.

Clean and dripping, wrapped in a skimpy towel, Sam emerged from the bathroom, unleashing a billow of steam. "Got anything new?" he asked as he toweled off his hair. "I'm starting to think that you were right. Looks like there's more to this than just mad cow disease. Could even be a case." Grinning, Sam shook out his one white shirt and laid it on the bed, ready, then turned to find his own clean underwear and socks and turning up empty. "Laundry later, once we've done this recon. I don't have any more clean socks," he said.

"Use mine," Dean motioned to his bag without looking at Sam. "Look at this, that kid that was killed, look at this police record." He turned the computer over to Sam then got up to tie his tie. "Dude, this is sounding more and more like a vengeful spirit." He got up to stand before the mirror and looked at Sam's reflection through it. "We need to find out where his body is."

"Yeah. I think you're right." Sam took the socks that Dean had offered, sitting down to pull them on over his bony feet. "Salt and burn him, and it'll all be well." He finished mopping up the water from his back and shoulders, tossed the towel down onto the carpet and reached for his shirt, pulling it on and rising to his feet again to fasten the buttons. "My suit was in the trunk, man. Did you get it, or do I need to run out like this and find it?"

Dean motioned to his bed, where the suit lay, half covered by the contents of his bag. After Sam had finally gotten dressed, the pair went out to eat, catching a semi-decent meal before driving to the cemetery to see if they could find the grave of the boy who had died. Dean had stopped and got some flowers to make things look good. The two of them walked along a path that bracketed the graveyard, when a thought occured to Him. "Hey, Sam?" Dean was reading headstones, "You um, ever think about going back to visit Jessica's grave?" They had been back to their mom's, but John didn't have one.

"I dreamed about it after she died," murmured Sam, looking a little sick. "I dreamed that she shoved her hand up through the dirt and grabbed hold of my ankle." He shuddered, remembering the vivid dream. "It felt like she hated me - blamed me. I blamed myself for a long time after that, too." Sam cast about for something that would enable him to change the topic. "For a while I was scared that she might be a restless spirit, because of the way she died. I still wonder, sometimes."

"Possible. If she was angry at you - or at me for that matter. After all, it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't taken you away from her to look for Dad." Dean had been looking around himself, but now he stopped and straightened. "Dude, what if they cremated him? Or didn't bury him at all? Cause I got nothing. How about you?"

"Guess we need to go talk to the family." Sam frowned. "I get a really bad vibe from them, you know. Seems to me like that kid's death wasn't quite the mystery that the papers made it out to be. If the kid's haunting them, then it's because they hurt him, and he wants revenge. Stirring them up will likely cause almost as much fuss as tossing a lit candle into a wasp's nest."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, maybe we should watch the place first. See what happens." He glanced to Sam as they reached the back of the cemetery and still found no marker there. "Cause we got bupkes here." Dean placed the flowers down on a grave and started walking back toward the entrance.

"Works for me," nodded Sam. "I'm not anxious to get into it with a bunch of abusive freaks. If they really are abusive I'm not even sure I want to lay him to rest til after he gets his own back." He reached to loosen his tie, then changed his mind and removed it completely, rolling it and putting it into his pocket. "Think we should visit the hospital first? See whether there were any reports of the kid being injured on a regular basis - running into doors or whatever?"

"If it will help, don't think it will," Dean answered, removing his tie as well. "We have to lay him to rest either way. People issues are not our problem. Spirits are. And he could turn into something worse if he's left alone." Dean stopped at the car and looked at Sam over it. "We take him down and let the police deal with the rest."

"Yeah." Sam sighed. "Guess you're right." Getting into the car, Sam tossed his jacket over onto the back seat and gave a sigh. "Dude, we need to go back and change out of our suits if we're going on a stake out. Bad enough to sit there all night, but to sit there in a suit all night would add insult to injury."

Looking at Sam, Dean could tell his brother was changing. Sam used to like suits. He liked dressing up and in fact preferred it. Dean was the one who usually balked against the monkey suits, but right now he wasn't gonna argue. He gave a nod and climbed in, swiftly pointing them back towards the motel and a change of clothes.

The smile Dean gave him made it worth Sam's while to decide that they should return to casual dress, and Sam felt a little spike of pleasure at his brother's response. "You think we should be reporters or what? It's kind of weird to go and interview someone about a death and ask where the body's buried - especially if we go straight away and dig him up. We 'd be fingered for sure." He thought for a moment. "I guess we could be a pair of paranormal investigators for the Weekly News or something?"

"Whatever." Dean waved his hand at Sam, not really giving a damn if he could get out of this damn suit. Yeah, he knew he looked good in it but it wasn't his style. They arrived back at the room soon after, and the pair quickly changed. Dean grabbed a bag of goodies, filled their thermos with coffee and was ready to go while Sam prissed himself up and made sure his clothing was folded away neatly. Sam's neatness sometimes took up time, and Dean waited impatiently.

Finally ready, Sam gave Dean the nod, and the two of them returned to the car. "I guess we start by just watching? So far all the disturbances that have been reported seem to have originated in a single corner of the farm. The shed where the cows were is right next to the pen where the pigs were slaughtered by whatever it is. That's where the father said that something shoved him off the roof too, so I guess we position ourselves where we can keep an eye on it."

Dean just nodded and started the car, heading out in the direction of the farm. As they got close he shut the radio off and then cut the headlights, making the turn onto a back road and slowly driving along it until the farm came into view. From their lookout the trees hid the car, masking the moon's reflection off the bodywork, and they could see both the farmhouse and all outlying stuff. Dean sank back in his seat and settled down.

The evening drew on, and Sam busied himself with his research, working through the stack of papers he'd brought with him to read while they waited. It grew dark, and there seemed to be nobody and nothing moving, despite the fact that there were animals in the yard. "It's weird," said Sam, who had abandoned his reading in favor of looking out of the car window. "Looks like there's nobody there. Think we should go take a closer look?"

"What, you itching to tip you a cow?" Dean asked. "It is strange that there is nothing moving out there, though." He reached over, getting more coffee from the thermos. "Let's wait a little while longer, make sure everyone is in bed sleeping, then we can go sniff around." Dean glanced at his watch before taking a sip of his drink. It would be another couple of hours before they reached the small hours of the morning.

Bugs flickered around them as time passed, some of them unwelcome, and the brothers found themselves swatting at mosquitoes. Waiting was not something Dean enjoyed so in his head music played as he scanned the horizon for movement. He had gotten out of the car once to relieve himself by a tree, the coffee having worked its way through him. Finally he couldn't wait any longer, and the two men took out their pen-lights before starting their trek up the slope to the yard to look around.

Dean was glad the moon was out; it gave them light, but he also hated it, because they stood out against the shadowy figures of the cows and other barnyard animals. He could see the barn and the house were both shrouded in darkness apart from a single security light in the courtyard. He could see bugs around the light, a lush feeding ground for bats if there were were around. He just hoped he wouldn't see a rat running by. He hated rats. Ghosts, he didn't mind, but rats .... eww!

It was still eerily silent, but as they prowled around the barn there was a rustle of wings, and a large bird flapped over them. "Jesus!" Sam jumped, thrown off balance by the sudden sound. "What the hell?"

Dean had stepped back, melting quietly into the shadow of a tractor that was parked alongside the barn, and Sam turned to follow his example when there was a cawing, and the bird swooped down to perch on the machinery, staring at the two brothers out of baleful red eyes.

"It's a crow," murmured Sam, his voice sounding preternaturally loud in the silent farmyard. "What's a crow doing up at this time of the night."

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the bird. "You have your pants zipped up? Because maybe it saw a worm." He smirked at Sam and reached into his pocket to pull out his EMF meter. "Okay, let's take a look around see if there was any recent activity." He started moving, their father's training kicking in as he moved smoothly through the shadows. The meter suddenly uttered its piercing squeal, indicating preternatural activity. He glanced back to Sam, one eyebrow raised.

"It's not me." Sam shuffled to the side, allowing Dean to scan the area immediately behind him, but there was nothing visible except for the crow that sat glaring at the two of them as though they were trespassing. "Dude, do you suppose it's the bird?" asked Sam. "It doesn't look like a ghost, but it really shouldn't be up and out of its nest at this time of night. That's just bizarre."

"Well you're the scarecrow." Dean moved the EMF away from the bird, and the sound lessened, but when he moved it back, "Dude, it's the bird!" He reached around behind him for his gun, loaded with rock salt bullets, knowing it would make less sound than the shot gun. As he took aim the damn bird cawed at him and then dove for him, causing him to duck.

"Where did it go?" Sam was trying to track the thing with his own gun, but somehow it seemed to have eluded him, flapping off into the darkness behind the barn where they couldn't see. He racked his brains for lore that spoke of nightbirds, but there was nothing that immediately leapt to mind. "I need to do a little research on this, man. I don't recall any legends about spectral crows being harbingers of doom. Magpies and ravens, yes, but not crows." He looked at his brother who was scowling as he peered into the shadows in search of the bird that had attacked him. "You think maybe Alfred Hitchcock was right?"

"Dude, there would be a lot more, and there would be bird shit everywhere." Dean made for the barn and rushed around behind it. He tried to stick to the shadows, listening for the flapping of wings. "Dude, you think it's a shapeshifter? I hate those things. Or something like a werewolf?" He was racking his brain for anything he might have learned from his father or read in his journal. Dean didn't show his smarts much, preferring to leave that to Sam, but he did know some things, and once in a while he would play dumb to make Sam happy.

"A werecrow?" Sam snickered. "I never heard of a werecrow. Besides, it isn't a full moon." He frowned; something was tickling the back of his mind that he just couldn't get a handle on. "There's something I should know about crows," he said. "I'll be kicking myself when I remember."

There was a sudden movement in a shadowy area beside some bales of hay, and a young man with long dark hair suddenly appeared from the darkness. "Who are you?" he asked.

Dean whipped around and took a battle stance, gun at the ready. "Okay still want to tell me there is no such thing, Sammy?" Dean shifted slightly and addressed the newcomer. "How about you answer that first? Who are you, and what are you doing here?" Dean's finger was itching to pull the trigger.

"I... don't know." The young man was pale, dark circles beneath his eyes. "I just woke up here. I'm not sure where this is..."

"That's ridiculous," murmured Sam, his eyes wide as he watched the young man rise to his feet. He frowned at his brother. "You still got the EMF? I want to know what's going on."

Dean reached into his pocket, without looking away and handed it to Sam. "Okay, you don't know where you are, and you mean to tell me you're not the cause of the stuff that's going on here?" Vengeful spirit, that was what it had to be. They needed to find out who this kid was, salt and burn his bones. They needed to get the job done and get out of hicksville, because, from what he'd seen there were no Daisy Dukes in this town. Shame.

Sam scanned the young man, frowning when the meter didn't register. Swinging it around, he aimed it at the bird that was now perched above them on the rafters. The high pitched squeal from it was instantaneous. "This is totally fucked up," he growled. "The bird's some kind of preternatural presence. Dude, what the hell's going on." He turned back to the pale youngster. "So what are you doing here? You just using the place as a crash pad? You know that there have been some really bad things going down here?"

Dean stepped back as the man jumped down from the perch he'd been sitting on and tipped his head to one side, studying him. It was as if he could look into him rather than just at him, and that made Dean nervous, because he was afraid that if he looked at Sam he would see the darkness that lurked there that others wanted to bring out.

"I right the wrongs," the man said and kept right on staring at Dean.

"Yeah, well that's what we do, too. So mind telling us what the wrong is here?" Dean shifted.

"Murder," mumbled the young man. "You should know that people have died here."

"That's not all," growled Sam. "Mind telling us about it?"

The young man turned even paler, if that were possible. "I... I don't know. I don't know how I know what's happened here, just that things need to be set right."

"Well murder isn't how you do it. Not against living people," Dean snapped, not realizing how angry he'd been getting. He drew closer to the youngster. "Whatever is going on here, it's a people problem, not one for the dead. You need to move on."

The young man gave Dean a long, slow look, and then he smirked. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out a penknife, flicked it open and stuck the point of it into his palm, holding it up so that the blood dripped rich and red to form a swiftly growing puddle on the bare concrete beneath their feet. "Does that look dead to you?" he asked, his smile spreading. Closing up the knife, he dropped it back into his pocket. "I feel pretty damned alive to me."

Sam had taken a step back, mouth open in shock. "Dude," he gasped. "Are you nuts?"

Dean turned to look at the crow and aimed his gun at it. "How about your friend up there? Will you still be alive if I send it away?" Dean knew he was a damn good shot. He took deadly aim at the bird. "Deserve it or not, not gonna let these people be harmed by you or anything else."

The bird glared down at Dean before uttering a shrill cry and taking off, flapping away into the shadows and out of the barn. The young man spread his hands.

"Look, my name is Carlo Giordani, and I don't know about any friends. I'm just passing through, and I thought I'd spend the night in comfort. It looked like it was going to rain earlier, and I can't afford a motel right now. If you're really determined, I guess I can go look for another place to sleep, but I gotta tell you, I'm pretty tired."

Dean was about to relax, but then he caught sight of a shadow moving. He turned quickly, the shadows dancing in the moonlight. He shrugged his shoulders, turning back to look over at Sam. "Something else is here," he growled, not really sure if it was his imagination.

Peering into the darkness, Sam held his pistol in a loose grip, ready to use if he needed. "What was it?" he asked his brother, turning away from Carlo as they began to search the barn. There was a loud, rattling crash, and a piece of rusty machinery tumbled from its place on the wall to fall at their feet, and Sam jumped back with a yell. "Jesus, shit!" he growled. "You think we're going to find anything else here?"

Dean jumped back as well, standing back to back with Sam, something their father had taught them. He scanned around them as another noise indicated further trouble to come. Dean quickly shoved Sam out of the way as he was hit in the chest by a piece of machinery that flew at him and let his body relax, falling the way their dad had taught them.

"Poltergeist! Get out of the way." Sam was scrambling back to his feet as he spoke. "We need to exorcise it. You got the keys to the trunk, dude? I'll go get the stuff." Grabbing the keys from Dean's outstretched fingers, he turned and ran, fumbling through the trunk of the Impala for bell, book and candle and hurrying back to where things were now whirling around as if in a mini tornado. Without further ado he began to declaim the Latin that would banish the poltergeist. By the time he was done, the young man, Carlo, had vanished.

Dean had fought the thing off as much as he could, taking a slight beating. As Sam showed up with the paraphernalia for exorcism, the poltergeist seemed to redouble its efforts at causing mayhem. The lights in the barn blew, windows broke, and then all of a sudden there was silence. Nothing. Outside, a cricket chirped. Dean looked over at Sam, hay in his hair, grease all over his clothing. "What took you so long? Or were you thinking of a roll in the hay?"

Gathering things back together, the two of them headed back out to the car. "Okay, that was ... I think we should look into this Carlo dude. Something with that crow was not quite right." As they were walking back to the car, they noticed that the lights in the house had remained out. "Damn," said Dean. "They're heavy sleepers." He got back into the car, picking hay off his clothes.

The drive back to the motel was quiet. Sam was racking his brains to try and recall what he knew about crows and the supernatural. As soon as they had entered the room he was at his computer, typing furiously as Dean shook the rest of the straw out of his clothing and applied arnica to the cuts and bruises he'd sustained. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for.

"Dude, did you ever see the movie? The one with Brandon Lee?" He looked over at his brother. "He's there to avenge a murder, so he can be with the one he lost. I'm guessing that it's up to us to find out who the murderer was before he does and have them brought to justice if we don't want a blood bath.

Dean looked up as he was dabbing the arnica onto the cuts on his chest. He quirked an eyebrow, "The Crow." He thought about it for a moment then shook his head, "Nope, doesn't ring a bell at the moment." Lowering his shirt, he went to stand behind Sam and read over his shoulder. "Huh, so we have to do the work of the flat foots? Figures. Okay, so did you look the kid up, see where he lived?"

"Not yet." The clicking of keys indicated that Sam was getting that organized, and it was only a few moments later that he gave a little exclamation of triumph. "All right. Our boy Carlo died a year ago tonight, and apparently he lived at the next farm over. He was found cut to pieces and tossed in a ditch in back of the stables by where we were. He'd been seeing the daughter, whose name was Sarah. She vanished at about the same time, but she's never been found either dead or alive."

Dean frowned, "Great! How are we supposed to find her? If she vanished, are we supposed to unite these two so that he'll go away, or what? And how much you want to bet, that spirit, that poltergeist, was tied into her. And possibly her father or brother or someone in that family killed that kid. Only problem is how to prove it." Dean paced, trying to think.

"I'm pretty sure that she's dead," murmured Sam. "The rules are that the revenant doesn't come back to right the wrong if there's no wrong to right, and this Carlo dude seems to be tied to her. I think that the best way to find out what's going on is to catch up with him and ask him, but we can't do that tonight. Hell, it's almost morning. Let's get some sleep and decide tomorrow what we're gonna do. I'll check into when the daughter was last seen and we can take it from there."

Dean nodded as he started stripping the rest of the way. He stripped to his underwear before looking at himself in the mirror. He looked like death warmed over. There were bags under his eyes which had bags of their own, as Bobby would say. He sighed and turned away, going over to his bed. "Sleep sounds like a naughty word right about now." He crawled in and made a pleasant sound. Ahh, this felt good.

Sam watched him go, smiling a little to himself at the faces Dean had made at himself in the mirror. Rising to his feet, he clicked off the computer and got himself ready, collapsing gratefully into his own bed with a groan. "Could sleep for a week, dude," he mumbled, then snorted with laughter as he heard his brother start to snore.

The morning dawned, overcast, with the promise of rain to follow. Sam yawned mightily as he sat up, and made his mind up to go and find them breakfast. He dressed himself quietly and quickly, letting himself out of the room to go to the diner that was just across the street. He was approaching the front door of the diner when he spied Carlo coming towards him.

Dean shifted in the bed, not having heard Sam get up. He yawned then looked around, noticing that Sam wasn't about. He got up and looked out the window, noticing that the car was still there at least. Shrugging, he went to shower and brush his teeth.

Carlo looked at Sam. "Still around?"

"Yep. We'll be around til we can sort out the stuff happening on the farm there. Come and get coffee and tell me about your girl. Do you know what happened to her?" Sam frowned. "We know what you are, dude. We're anxious to help you be where you need to be, and we don't want any bloodshed, so let's get down to it, shall we? Who killed her, where's her body, and what do you intend to do about it?"

The diner was warm as they entered, and Sam quickly ordered coffee and breakfasts to go for three. "And you're coming back to the room to talk with Dean, so don't think you aren't."

Carlo looked at Sam, "I can take care of the whole thing. You and your brother ..." He followed Sam into the diner and looked at Sam as they took a seat. "You two balance each other. Dark and Light. Sarah made me happy. You two are in for rough times." He leaned back and looked at him, "But then you've been through rough times before." He looked out the window. "Sarah's father didn't approve of our relationship. One day I came to see her, and he told me she'd gone. Left. I didn't believe him. After that, things are kind of fuzzy."

"Listen, dude. Me and my brother will help you find her, but we won't let you just go nuts and start killing. You know the old saying about two wrongs don't make a right? We're committed to that." Sam looked up as their order was brought over to him, smiling his thanks as he rose to his feet. "So come on. Let's go back and try to decide where to look for her. Dean's good at that kind of thing."

For a moment, he didn't think that Carlo would follow him, but then the teen got up and fell in beside him as they crossed back to the motel. As Sam opened the door, he called out. "Breakfast, dude. You awake yet?"

Dean walked out of the bathroom, "Dude, where were you? You better have brought me break ..." he stopped when he saw Carlo. "Huh, okay we have company, should have warned me." He was in his jeans, with no shirt on, and his tattoo stood out stark on his chest. Crossing the room, he got his shirt and pulled it on over his head. "So, I see you found him. Does he know where her body is?"

"He sure jumps into it head first." Marco had a smirk on his face as he spoke.

"No point beating about the bush." Sam was passing out breakfasts and coffee as he spoke, and he took a seat at the table to start in on his food. "Got you the full thing, dude," he murmured. "I figured that you'd be hungry." He poured three packets of sugar into his coffee and then handed a cup over to Carlo. "Do revenants drink coffee?" he asked. "I'm not sure of the protocol here."

"Yeah. They like coffee," said Carlo, turning to study Dean. "And I don't know what they did with her, my Sarah, but I do know she's dead. I can feel it. I need her, man. Help me find her, and I promise I'll be good."

"Be good. Huh." Dean sat down picking up some bacon and taking a bite. He reached for his coffee and took a drink. "Okay, I think we need to pose as some FBI or investigators," he looked at Sam, "And talk to the father. See if he knows what happened to his daughter." he looked at Carlo, "So can you tell us what the father is gonna be like?"

"Yeah. He's a fat, rude bastard with no manners. He's a bully. Him and Sarah's brother really hurt her. They used to hit her if they thought she was seeing me. We had to sneak around a lot, but we were gonna get married as soon as she turned 18. I wanted to get her out of that house, make her happy and make up for the crappy life she had when she was a kid." He opened the container that held his breakfast and studied it. "Thanks for listening," he said. "He murdered her; I know it. I just don't know how."

"Oh happy times!" And they'd thought their family was bad. The arguing between Sam and their father. "Leave the how to us. And we'll find her body and put you both to rest. It's what we do." Dean looked to his brother, wondering what Sam would be doing. Something inside Dean nagged at him. He couldn't help wondering if just because the events of the year had been canceled out didn't mean they wouldn't happen over again. Perhaps that was the joke the Trickster was playing on him.

"They can't hurt me," said Carlo. "They can hurt you, but I'm beyond that."

"What do you mean?" Sam was frowning. "Course they can hurt you, and so can the spirit that's haunting the farm. Don't assume just because it's a ghost that it's harmless. You saw what nearly happened to Dean last night in the barn."

"I know, but I'm serious. I can't be killed, because it's too late for that." There was a smirk on the young man's face. "You need to take me with you. I'll scare the crap out of the bastards, because they saw me hacked into pieces. I bet they sing like birds, once they finish crapping their pants."

Dean looked at him, "Dude, that is just awes..." He stopped when Sam threw him a look as if he couldn't believe he was just going to say that. Dean cleared his throat, "Okay, we'll take you, but you're gonna have to listen to us. Believe me, you can still be killed. A demon, if involved, can do a lot of damage. Even a spirit that is stronger than you can do harm to you." Dean shifted, "Okay, so, you got any idea where she was buried?"

"Dunno. Thought it might be that she's in that barn somewhere. It was the place where I felt closest to her. That's why I was there when you guys came along. I was trying to get in touch with her." Carlo sighed, his head drooping. "I'm pretty sure she's buried somewhere close to the barn."

"Dean, it'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack. We have to get the father to tell us where her body is. We can't spend forever looking for her remains; that farm covers a huge amount of land." Sam looked pensive. "Maybe Carlo's right, and the sight of him is going to be enough to get the information we need."

"Yeah," growled the young man. "And if it isn't, I'm quite happy to hurt him a little. He owes me."

Dean looked between them then nodded, "Okay, got a point, both of you. So let's go and wake father of the year up and make him wet his panties," Dean pushed himself up, stopping only to check his guns.

The trip out to the farm was conducted in grim silence. Sam reached out to squeeze Dean's knee as they turned into the dirt road that led up to the farm. He was wondering if Carlo intended to kill his lover's murderer, but was not going to ask, thinking that it was better not to open that particular can of worms.

Leo Kowalsky, Sarah's father, pulled open the door as the Impala drew up outside the house. The man was big, running to fat, and he wore greasy jeans and a stained wife-beater. He was unkempt and unshaven, and it was evident that hygiene wasn't high on his list of priorities. "What are you doing on my land?" he yelled as he brandished a shotgun.

"We're here about your daughter," said Sam, climbing out of the car, but staying on the other side of it from the irate farmer.

"Yeah. I want to know where you buried her." Carlo emerged from the back seat, and it was evident that Kowalsky recognized him from the way he turned pale and stepped back.

"Sonofabitch," growled the farmer, and fired the shotgun at Carlo. Carlo laughed as he walked forward, his body apparently unharmed by the rounds that had been fired into it.

Dean rolled his eyes. This was so not the way he'd had it playing out in his head. The kid just couldn't listen to him when he told him to just hang back in the back seat of the Impala for a moment, instead, launched head long into the confrontation. Though Dean gave brief thought to the fact that it was pretty much what he always did, but still ...

Dean took the moment of distraction and used it to his advantage. He charged, sprinting past Carlo and headlong tackled the man, reaching for the gun and wrestling with him to get it off him. An elbow to the face knocked the big man for a short loop.

Sam took the opportunity to step in and level his pistol at the old farmer. "I think it's in your best interests to tell us what you did with Sarah's body," he growled. "Carlo here isn't very patient, and believe me, we'll be a lot kinder to you than he would be."

"You got that right," murmured Carlo. He had a hole blown through his middle through which daylight could be seen, but already it was closing. Above him, a crow wheeled, shrieking.

"Don't let him touch me." Kowalsky's face was grey with fear. "Oh, God, Keep him away."

Dean kept a hold of the man, "Then you want this over with, start talking. Or," Dean took the shotgun and stepped back, leaving a clearer path for Carlo to take if he wanted. "Did we leave something in the car, Sammy?" he asked.

"Yeah, dude, I'm pretty sure we did." Sam was grinning as he moved aside to let Carlo, whose pale, unmarked flesh could now be seen clearly through the tattered shreds of his T-shirt, get in closer to Leo. The farmer was now panicking as the revenant slowly came towards him. "What... what are you?" he whispered.

"I'm just a little old farmboy that loved your daughter." Carlo leaned down to peer at Leo. "Boo!"

There was a shriek from Sarah's father, and the front of his pants darkened as his bladder cut loose. "No, God, I'll tell you. I'll take you there. Just keep him away from me."

Dean paused, looking up and around then back at Sam with a smirk. "Did you hear something. Something stinks." He turned back to the man. "Oh, found the answer." He walked over, grabbing Leo by the back of the shirt to pull him up. "Start walking." he shoved the big farmer down the stairs of the porch.

The other two followed close behind as Dean manhandled Leo out onto the driveway. Shivering in fear, the man led them out behind the barn to a patch of grass. Dropping to his knees, Sam pried at a loose sod and pulled it away from the ground beneath. "Dean, this has been recently dug over and then disguised to look as if it's always been here."

Carlo had stepped in close, and his face was menacing as he reached to grab hold of his lover's father. "What did you do to her?" he growled, his voice low, vibrating with fury.

Dean grabbed Carlo, "Let him go. Now go get the shovels in the back," he ordered.

The young man looked at Dean, his face blank. There was a moment or two when Sam held his breath, afraid for Dean, but at last Carlo gave a long sigh and turned to go to the Impala. Sam followed him, hoping to diffuse the anger that was evident in Carlo's rigid posture. "C'mon, man; we need to help Sarah find peace; you know that."

A moment later they returned with two shovels and began to dig as Dean held the gun on Leo and watched.

Dean kept his eyes upon both Carlo and Leo. He trusted either of them about as far as he could throw them and, judging by Leo's size, that wasn't very far. He could see that the two were making progress. The hole rapidly grew deeper as Sam and Marco dug furiously, and pretty soon there was a sound from Sam. Dean peered down and leaned over to see a plastic bag, which clearly held the young girl's body. "So why did you do it, Leo? Because of him, or was it just because your girl didn't fall in line? Did it make you feel like a big man?"

Leo said nothing. There was nothing that he could say. Above their heads, the crow screamed as it wheeled around. Carlo dropped to his knees as the tears streamed down his face. "She was only seventeen. I loved her so much. She was going to come with me, but he killed her."

"I'm sorry." Sam put a hand on Carlo's arm, and Carlo nodded, a sad smile on his face.

"I have to do this," he murmured, turning away and pulling a knife from his sleeve. Before either of the brothers could move, the weapon was embedded in Leo's throat, and the farmer was collapsing as the blood flowed, rich and thick to pool on the ground.

As Sam looked on, the shallow grave seemed to be full of light as a pretty, dark haired girl dressed all in white sat up and stretched out a hand towards Carlo. The young man smiled and reached for her hand, and in a matter of moments the two of them had faded, leaving Sam and Dean to look on.

Dean had shouted, but it was too late to anything. Leo was dead, and he had to step back to avoid the blood that was still spurting around the grave site. He sighed and shook his head, in a way he really didn't care that the lovers had been reunited. "Let's salt and burn her," he growled, moving away as he went to get the salt and gas. Once he returned, he didn't say much else except salt, burn and walk away from the whole mess, leaving the body and the grave as they were.

Once in the Impala, Dean waited for Sam to join him, driving them back toward their motel without another word.

Back at the motel, Sam made straight for the shower. Clean once more, he wandered out to confront his brother, sitting down beside him and putting an arm around Dean's shoulders. "It was for the best, dude," he mumbled. "Don't think that there was anything we could've done to stop it. He was always going to kill Sarah's dad. It's what they do."

"But that's what we're here for, good or bad, to prevent that. He should have done time for what he did," Dean looked at Sam. He sighed, "Guess you're right though." He bumped his brother's shoulder. "Let's go get a drink, huh?" Dean needed one badly. Guilt lay heavy on him, even though the bastard had deserved everything he'd got.

Nodding, Sam gave his brother's shoulder a squeeze and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "You got it, dude," he said. "Last one out's a turkey." With that, he rose quickly and headed for the door. Dean would be okay, they both would, but it would be a long time before they forgot the Crow.

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