AN: My gosh, I have been busy lately. This chapter alone took like over a month just due to constant conflicts. Anyway, just a sweet little case-fic set after Heart. I wanted to explore the trope of "Every supernatural creature going for Sam's neck." Based off a creepy poem I wrote for Language Arts last year. Enjoy!

Along the path there's a darkened green glow.

The twisted tree above casts its shadow.

They say the tree was where a man once hung.

The wind would rush, and the lifeless corpse swung.

Was the man filled with guilt, or innocence?

His toes never even touched that old fence.

The tattered wires were his tattered clothes.

What was his crime? They say that no one knows.

Then the day did come when his body fell.

But there are those who claim that he escaped Hell.

They see his face, or hear his dying cries.

And that is when he looks them in the eyes.

They run from the man who swung in the tree.

What you don't know, that swinging man is me.

Every. Freaking. Time. Sam wasn't sure what it was about his neck, (And his love life) that seemed to be some kind of supernatural magnet, but it sucked. Not being able to breathe just sucked.

The simplicity behind the act just makes it all the more terrifying. Take something as simple as a hand, rope, or freaking extension cord, add enough pressure, and it isn't long before spots begin to creep into your vision.

Simple was probably the worst word to use right now though. Sam was devoid of the simplest thing of them all; breathing. It's really not something you appreciate until it's slipping away from your vision fading eyes.

It was usually the simple cases that liked to screw him over the end, not to say that Sam wasn't used to it at this point. He still hated it, but he couldn't really say he was too surprised.

This hunt though, it had seemed even simpler than simpler, and yet here he was. Black, then white spots flashed before him as he felt consciousness, and possibly life, beginning to slip away.

Even as he started to fade, Sam thought back to the beginning of the hunt.

The simplest, simplest hunt.

Two days ago.

"You go on this hunt, and you're just asking for it, Sammy." Dean told his brother flatly, keeping his eyes on the over-used and worn down road.

"Oh, shut up, Dean." Sam huffed. Sure, it was true that their next potential hunt had a recipe for a loss of oxygen, but nothing was set in stone. It's not like there was some force that existed just for the sake of continuously condemning him to being strangled. Then again, considering his luck, there could be.

"I'm just saying, your track record's working against you. It gets a little annoying always having to walk in on you with a blue face."

After a scoff, Sam retorted, "I'm sorry me nearing death is so inconvenient for you." Despite the seemingly harsh words, neither brother was mad at the other. For the time being at least.

"I'm just saying, next time it happens, I might not step in." Dean joked lightly.

"Uh-huh. Sure you won't, Dean."

"Hey," Dean said innocently. "Big brother's not always gonna be there to save your skin, Sammy."

Sam didn't buy that for a minute. "It's 'Sam.'" He corrected, a hint of a smile sneaking on to his face.

Casually, Dean shrugged. "Hey, your funeral."

"Not today." Was it wrong how easily these conversations came up? Were you to compare it to Dean hitting Sam due to an accidental attempt to have an actual discussion regarding their father's death, maybe a little banter wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

"Run me through the case again."

"Sounds easy enough." Sam began to explain. "First victim, Zach Fratdil, was found hanged on a tree on the outskirts of town. Everyone first wrote it off as suicide."

"Feels like there's a 'but' coming." It took Deal a whole 0.01 seconds to realise his poor choice in words. "Shut up." He ordered before Sam could even say a single word. "Just keep going."

Flashing those deceptively innocent puppy dog eyes, Sam replied, "Thought you wanted me to shut up. Can't do both, Dean."

"Quit being a bitch."

"Only if you stop being a jerk." Sam smirked a little, and then set his eyes back on the newspaper article. "Anyway, got labeled as suicide, but- that's when another body popped up, Casey Feedanot. Now people were getting suspicious. Last vic, Neil Gunner, shows up too, and it's sounding a hell of a lot more like out kind of thing."

"How you know it's not a serial killer?" Dean asked.

"Thought about that, but," He spoke as he shuffled through the papers, eyes darting across the pages until he found what he was looking for. "Place has got a history. Long time ago, a guy named Nicholas Hicks was sentenced to death for murdering his wife." He finally looked over at Dean. "Wanna take a guess at how they executed him?"

"He got hung?"

Sam tsked. "So close." He smirked. "Hanged."

"That's what I said!" Dean snapped back.

"You said 'hung.' The correct form is hanged."

"Alright, college boy, you keep that up and you'll be riding in the trunk."

In response, Sam just laughed. The sound brought a little smile to Dean's face. Any time he could make his brought laugh was good, but it was especially gratifying considering how upset he knew Sam really was.

Love wasn't exactly an easy concept for Dean to grasp. He thought he had felt it once, but that was a long time ago. And it wasn't exactly something Dean could see either, and he had never been one to believe in something he couldn't see. But what he had seen between Sam and Madison-...

Was it love? Was it all for nothing? Whatever the hell you wanted to call it, it had caused Sam to be the most heartbroken Dean had seen since Jessica's death. Dean now understood why Sam had constantly tried to ask him about how he felt about their father's death. More than anything, Dean just wanted to ask Sam what he was really feeling, but there was no way to do it without bringing up the unwanted memories.

Unable to ask, he'd just have to settle for making Sam happy, however brief or insignificant the moment truly was.

"So, basically," Dean clarified. "Dead guy got hung- hanged- and he's pissy about it. Any clue why he'd just start up now?"

"Nothing too special, but it does look like they've started renovations on the road he was hanged by. Probably just disrupted his burial site or something like that, and that set him off."

"Sounds easy enough. Track down his bones and burn 'em?"

"Pretty much."

If Sam had decided to say anything else, Dean had elected to ignore it, and drowned him out with the increasing volume of the radio and rushing hum of the Impala's wheels as they hurried towards their next hunt.

AN: I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I hate first chapters. They kind of suck. Like- always. Luckily, I do know exactly where I am headed, it's just a matter of sitting down and getting it done. Probably only like two more chapters to go, but you do get a-

Sneak Peek: "Damn, the guy seemed clean. It was so much harder when they seemed clean."

Yeah, mostly dialogue so far for the next chappy, so sneak peek was kinda hard to find. Hurt and usual Winchester awesomeness to come soon. Drop a review if y'all are enjoying! See you soon!