So I'm in love with Supernatural(don't own) and brothers winchester. this fanfiction is the result of that.
reviews?

"Dean!"

Dean shifted his weight to avoid a piece of roofing that seemed to move on its own. He unloaded his gun into the translucent being feet away from him before turning to extend an arm to his brother who was dangerously close to losing his grip on the balcony's thin railing. "Damn it, Sam," Dean hissed through clenched teeth, stretching his shoulders to their limit to reach Sam's open hand. Before Sam had time to warn him Dean felt his feet lose their contact with the ground and reconnected with it by means of his back several yards away without his gun. He coughed, slightly winded, rolling to his side in time to see the ghoul reappear above his brother, white knuckled and grimacing, but still clinging to the bar. She seemed to be sizing up the situation before the section Sam held to began to shake.

"DEAN!"

Sammy.

"Over here, bitch!" Dean bared his teeth, rolling to avoid another piece of roofing, "That all you got?"

Sam watched his brother direct attention to himself to protect his own life. He swallowed back an urge to yell at him, deciding it best to assert his energy in pulling himself back to the action. He looked down at his feet, dangling nearly forty stories above the busy street too immersed in their own cares to notice a man hanging from the corner of a towering building. He licked his lips, glancing only momentarily back to his brother to make sure he was alright before focusing on his grip and digging his sneakers back into the smoothed stone in an attempt to push himself up one more time.

"Come on!" he bit his lip as he felt his fingers slip.

Dean managed to reach his gun in time to unload another round of salt into the wispy image pursuing him. The form shrieked before dusting away. Dean resisted the urge to stay on his back and rest as the image of his brother came back to his mind. He pulled himself up, legs already peddling towards the railing with his heart hammering in his ears.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean asked, already hoisting his younger brother up by his arm. He struggled to pull him far enough up to help himself, "Dude, you gained weight."

Sam ignored Dean's taunt, leaning heavily against him to stretch his leg over the rail, "I told you it wasn't on the roof."

Dean stood proudly in front of his brother with a crooked smile, "And that, baby brother, is where you're wrong." He lifted a small box and shook it for good measure. Had to have some cheap old ring in it. What was up with ghosts and holding on to meaningless shit like say, an engagement ring, was beyond Dean's span of compassion. "You know how hard it is to find something this small while you're getting your ass handed to you by some dead chick?"

Sam's eyes gave his brother the indication that he need not know considering he had been dangling over a hundred feet in the air above a busy street for what felt like half an hour.

"Okay, okay, on with the easy part."

Several minutes and a salt burned engagement ring later the boys found themselves in the nearly empty parking deck. Trying to make Sam's bloody mouth and Dean's skinned cheek look natural, they sauntered towards Dean's Impala.

"I still say Las Vegas would be a perfect vacation spot, Sammy," Dean offered, tossing his shotgun into the trunk, completely unfazed by the assortment of weapons that filled it.

"Since when have we done vacations?" Sam retaliated.

"Since you almost learn to fly and I lose patience with the dearly departed," Dean grinned, giving Sam a wink, "I'll even teach'ya how you really win a game of poker."

"I'm not interested in your methods of cheating."

"I like to think of them as helpful—" Dean's voice faded as the air around them changed.

"I feel it too," Sam agreed with Dean's silence, peering over his shoulder. Someone was watching them. Call it intuition, a hunter's sixth sense, but they both knew when they were being watched; and Sam swore he smelled sulfur.

Their eyes narrowed almost simultaneously as they skimmed the parking deck for signs of anything wrong, slowly moving back towards the trunk for their weapons. Sam didn't notice the light breeze tugging at his lengthy, brown hair. Something definitely wasn't right.

The light patter behind Sam's back came to late to stop, and too late for Dean to prevent. A hard blow to the back of the head instantly tilted the world as black dots began to fill his vision. He barely felt the jarring of his head against the pavement as the lights began to dim and a thick fog of darkness took over him.

"Sammy!" His brother's voice echoed through his mind, muffled as though he were underwater, before everything went away and unconsciousness took him.

---

Sam's eyes fluttered open to meet a harsh ray of light illuminating the surrounding pavement from a street light several yards away, oddly bright for such a far away source. Sam groaned, rolling his forehead against the asphalt while he dug his palms into the ground for support. His head felt like a train had gotten the better of it while he was sleeping.

"God, Dean, what'd you do to me while I was -- "

Sam pushed himself onto his knees, reeling from the sudden jolt it caused in his head. He fought to keep the black dots from swarming his vision as the realization of where he was hit him for the first time since awakening.

Roof. Ghost. Las Vegas? Pain. Pavement. Dean.

Dean!

"Dean!" Sam's voice barely broke the silence in the parking lot scarcely lit with the first speck of sunlight in the distance. He swallowed, regaining his voice, "Dean!"

He stood, cupping his hands around his mouth, "Dean!" He fought back the tightening in his throat as he made out the empty Impala a few feet away, "I swear to God, Dean, if you're trying to be funny!" He stopped short at the sight of a small pool of blood peeking behind the far back tire of the Chevy. He pressed his hands against the sides of the head, as if they could somehow keep the world from crashing in around him.

He wanted to vomit.

His brother was gone.