^^Okay. I know I haven't finished the other story I'm working on. But I shall! I promise! I'm already working on its next chapter! Ahem. Anyways…this one takes place after Sam gets his soul back, because, frankly, I'm freakin' happy about him getting it back and want to do one.

This one I actually did research on Japanese lore to create my storyline!

Nishi: An evil spirit that calls people out by name from their home at night. They can only call the person's name three times.

Why only three? Hell if I know its Japanese lore! They have odd rules. Eh, I guess if they could call your name as many times as they wanted, they wouldn't be scary. Just annoying.

Prologue:

=3 Antrim, Michigan

"David."

The dark haired man jerked awake, a scream dying in his throat, his arm snaking out to catch himself on the couch as the news blared loudly from the television set. He blinked, sitting up and looking around for the remote. He figured it to be in his best interest to get upstairs to bed before his wife, Joyce found out he'd fallen asleep in front of the TV again, an empty bottle of beer resting on the coffee table. She'd nag him to an early grave if she kept on his case about his new insomnia troubles. David stood, swaying slightly and yawning behind a closed fist, his destination being to lock the front door. There may've not been any houses around for miles, but Joyce seemed to think if a wild animal wanted in they'd use the door knob.

"David."

He froze, hand outstretched for the door lock. His eyes glazed over and he fell forwards to lean his throbbing head against the door, arms trembling as they strained to keep him up. Shadows slid out from behind the couch and from beneath the stairs, coming to surround him, whispering and making weeping noises. His back went ramrod straight, mouth slack with fear as he silently opened the front door and stepped outside. A fine mist formed wet tracks down his cheeks, dampened his sleep-wrinkled clothes and soaking his stocking feet, but the man didn't feel any discomfort. He didn't bother to close the door behind him. His eyes were all too focused on the darkness creeping alongside him, scraping at the back of his ankles, urging him farther from the safety of his home. His feet stopped moving when he was standing next to his mailbox. The little fairy statues his wife had set up for decorations were staring at him with mischievous eyes.

"Oh, David." A voice cooed at him, a chilled hand stroked his cheek lovingly like one would for comfort. Yet, he did not feel comfort. Only fear as the dark creatures seemed to snarl and nip at each other in excitement. "Thank you, for your gift."

He was still alive and wondering how he'd allowed himself to be lured outside when teeth sank into the back of his skull and a pain so fierce shook him and there was a sound much alike that of a melon being popped open. He would have cried out and sank to his knees if he'd been able to move. His vision dying along with him, he could still see the jeering crowd of darkness watching, creeping closer.

Then there was nothing.

=3

"What the hell's in Antrim, Michigan, anyways?" Dean grumped, fingers tapping in rhythm to a Metallica tape.

Sam sent him a withering look from the Impala's passenger seat and went back to the road map in his lap. "Bobby's a friend there who says there have been four victims in the past six months. All of them died in the middle of the night in their front yards."

Dean quirked his eyebrow. "Why do think it's our type of thing?"

"They all willingly left their houses. They all live out in rural areas of the country and their families didn't hear anything-didn't even know they were gone until the next morning."

"Maybe they sleep walk."

"What? Do you even-oh, never mind! They also all had the backs of their heads chewed open and scratches all over their bodies. The occasional…hunk of meat was missing, too."

"Somebody ate him?" Even if it wasn't a supernatural thing, since the Benders he hadn't cared much for cannibalism. Dean tilted his head to the side, and then gave his brother a smirk. "Well, okay, then. We have ourselves a case, Sammy!"

"Just 'Sam', please." Sam replied back, though he was smiling. A happy Dean makes for a much nicer car ride than an unhappy Dean did. Though it was best he kept awake until they bunked down for the night. A happy Dean also likes to do crap to you while you nap.

Dean scoffed, turning off the interstate onto a road that seemed to have miles of green grass and coast line. "Sure, Sammy. Whatever you say."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

=3

Dean was still grinning when he handed the hotel manager one of his many credit cards, receiving a room key in charge. He had his brother back and though he had for a few months or so, he couldn't help but marvel at this. His actual brother, not the soulless entity that'd tried to pass for Sam. His Sam. His sweet, caring, puppy dog-eyed little brother.

He felt like laughing. But since he figured that wouldn't help to keep up his reputation, he'd settle for grinning like an idiot. Not much better, but he couldn't seem to stop. His mouth did it without his consent. He saw Sam leaning against the Impala, smiling as he watched and waited for him with their gear in the duffle bag tossed over his shoulder. Dean quickened his stride. They had another hunt. When they got inside he'd convince his brother to do the research on what they were dealing with and he'd go out to hunt down some food-

"Dean."

His body went on lock down and he froze, eyes glazing in confusion. He saw something skulking out of the corner of his eye and his mouth went dry. Dark creatures stretched into view from behind cars and pillars, their numbers yawning across the parking light as they all reached out to him. He couldn't avoid their seeking fingers, couldn't shy away from their promising caresses. He couldn't move. Couldn't defend himself, couldn't-

They seemed to want to swallow him whole, gnashing their jaws together-

"Dean!" He blinked, and the shadow creatures he'd seen inking from hidden pockets sank back to their hiding places. Sam was standing in front and he was confused because, hadn't his brother been standing by the Impala a second ago? Sam's eyes were blown wide with worry and concern and once again Dean was marveling at how wonderful his brother's emotions were. He took comfort from the large, tan hands gripping tightly at his biceps, wondering faintly if they'd been placed there because he'd been about to fall over. He hadn't felt unstable. In fact, he'd felt stiff as a board. "Dean! What's wrong, man! Talk to me!"

"Sorry." Dean said, clutching at his temple as it throbbed suddenly; leaving a dull ached in its wake. "I'm alright, Sam." At his brother's look he grinned again. How could he not with Sam giving him that stern, concerned look? "Really. 'M not really sure what happened, but it's gone now."

Sam still felt doubtful. The sudden, gut clenching fear at seeing his brother's eyes check out and his face grow pale, the freckles sticking out like beacons, was still present. Dean's color had yet to come back. What was he supposed to do here? His hand rose, almost automatically, to rest on his brother's forehead. To his surprise, his brother didn't yank his head back; he didn't even open his mouth to complain.

Sam let his hand fall back to his side, face wrinkled in thought.

"Well?" Dean asked and Sam raised an eyebrow in question, silently telling him to elaborate. "What's the verdict, doc?"

"No fever." Sam murmured, still looking as if he were deep in thought. "We should probably get inside. Before anybody notices we've been standing outside for the last twenty minutes."