I think that what I have in mind will speak to a fear that most people have, and frankly I'm creeping myself out just writing about it. So stick with me. The boys aren't mine, tho' I do enjoy tormenting them. Please review, then head to my blog where I answer all reviews.

Night was waning its way into morning, the horizon fringed with the golden glow of false dawn. The diner was nearly deserted, with the fry cook scrubbing at the grill and the waitress wiping the same patch of counter over and over, as though in a daze. An old-timer nursed a cup of tea as he browsed a newspaper with hand-trembling slowness. Coffee perked with a blubbing sound, the scent filling the dingy room with a warm wake-up smell. A radio buzzed and hissed with static, the morning news fading in and out.

Dean grinned a thank-you as the waitress dropped a plate in front of him and refreshed his coffee cup. Her weary face softened with a small smile and she gave in to a little blush. Dean let out a little mumble of pleasure as he tucked into his steak, cramming a mammoth sized cut of the meat into his mouth, and he twirled his fork through a crispy golden pile of hash browns. Sam ignored him, clicking away on his laptop, his fingers flying. Dean snaked his arm across the table and snatched a piece of fatty bacon from Sam's plate, but his action went unnoticed, and Dean made a whiny little noise.

"Are you gonna ignore me all night, or what?"

Sam glanced over the top of the computer screen, one eyebrow arched with annoyance. "What?"

Dean put down his fork with a loud clank. "I get it. I'm sorry. But if…"

"Whatever." Sam's gaze dropped back to his screen and he began typing again, albeit with more force than necessary, sending his water glass jittering across the table.

"What do you want me to say? How was I supposed to know you were waiting up like a mother hen?" Dean stabbed his arm back toward Sam's plate and he grabbed a sausage link. "You should know better than to worry about me, particularly when I'm chasin' a piece of tail."

Sam took a deep breath through his nose. "Dude, you disappear from the room without a word, them spend the whole night God knows where…" He stopped, biting his tongue.

He knew perfectly well that Dean hadn't been chasing tail or anything else that evening. Sam had followed him, staying in the shadows, keeping a silent watch on his brother. Dean had spent most of the night sitting alone in a tiny dive bar, downing shot after shot of rotgut whiskey and staring into space with a distracted, pensive expression. He hadn't even looked twice at the barfly in a denim mini skirt and halter-top, even when she made a point of brushing his arm with her breasts as she reached across the bar for a drink. When he returned to the motel room at 3:30 in the morning he stank of cheap liquor and smoke.

Sam growled with frustration, trying to push down the lump of apprehension in his stomach. "Just forget it. I'm this close to fratricidal."

"Heh?"

Sam laid his palms on the table and leaned his face closer to Dean's. "I'm going to kill you if you don't shut up."

Dean twisted his mouth to one side and stabbed a piece of steak. He plopped it into his mouth, catching the tines of the fork in his teeth with a metallic scrape, and chewed quietly for a moment. Then in a low voice, "I'm sorry. Really. It won't happen again." He ducked his chin, trying to catch Sam's eye. "Come on. Come onnn."

Sam tried valiantly, but couldn't stop the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Shut up and eat." Dean leaned back in the booth, smirking triumphantly and chewing with his mouth open. Sam glanced back at his computer screen, a bit annoyed at himself for giving in so easily, but then let it go with a shrug. No point hanging on to it.

"So what are you looking at there, Einstein?" Dean asked around his mouthful.

Sam turned the screen toward Dean. "Wisconsin."

"Ugh, snow and cheeseheads. How come we always end up in Wisconsin?"

Sam pursed his mouth and gave Dean a look. Dean shrugged and motioned for him to continue. "Reports of a haunting in a nature reserve near Blue River. Strange lights in the trees after dark, voices, EMPs playing havoc with car batteries. The regular spiel."

"So what?"

"Not a problem, until recently. But within the past six months, there's been three deaths. Homeless men, starved to death."

Dean huffed a breath out through his nose. "Again, so what? Not to be harsh, but homeless men have a tendency to not eat so much, if you get me." The waitress stopped at the table again, tipping a hot stream of coffee into their cups. Sam smiled his thanks, and she padded away on her worn-out sneakers.

"They didn't just starve. They were all seen in the days prior, looking healthy. Not undernourished or anything. But when the bodies were found one to two days later, they had basically wasted to nothing. All that was left was dried skin and bones. Healthy men reduced to mummies overnight." Sam took a swig of coffee, then grimaced at the sludgy thickness.

Dean pushed out his lower lip and nodded once. "Vengeful spirit? Somebody that a hobo offed, maybe?"

"Could be. But sounds like it's worth a look."

"Wisconsin, man." Dean made a chuffing noise. "I swear Wisconsin is a hellmouth. How else do you explain the Packers?" He dumped a creamer into his coffee and stirred it with his pinky finger.

Sam rolled his eyes and doused his pancakes with syrup. "You up for the drive, Mister Saturday Night? Or I suppose I'll be the one doing the long haul while you sleep in the back."

"I did have a long night, you know." Dean flicked his wrist at the waitress, who sauntered over and, winking at Dean, dropped the check on the table in front of Sam. Sam stared at his brother for a long moment, then shook his head and pulled out his wallet. He didn't see the gleeful little smirk on Dean's face as he dropped a twenty on the table.

It was going to be a long drive.