Dean ripped the flyer down off the glass of the window of the Corner Coffee Shoppe on his way out and smirked. This would be perfect. Sam had been whining this whole hunt about everything and anything and Dean? Dean had had just about enough. Time for Sam to get a little payback. He turned around and headed out to the parked car, winking at their cute blonde waitress Julie and then whistled 'Gallow's Pole,' before sliding into the vehicle next to Sam.

Sam had notes and papers spread on his lap and was worrying his lower lip with his teeth. "So the local legend is that when this area was first settled, a young girl by the name of Becky befriended an Indian shaman. She managed to obtain medical and healing knowledge thought well beyond the times, so she was tried and hung as a witch out in the woods. Supposedly, on nights of the full moon, you can see her lone figure standing on top of the hill where her grave is located." Sam paused and looked at Dean as he turned onto the main drag and headed back to the motel in the waning daylight. "Except this year, each month one or two people have disappeared in those woods, near the location of what the local's call 'Becky's Grave.'"

Sam took a breath and pulled out another paper before continuing. "The only thing I can figure is, from these records, dating back to 1806, it's been two-hundred years since Becky died and I'm thinking she's out for a little revenge."

Dean nodded, thought for a moment. "So, tonight's the full moon. We go out to the woods, salt and burn her and that should be it, right? Because the waitress back there, she was telling me, right up the road from the woods is this farm - they have a haunted cornfield. Thought maybe since we were here, we could check it out." He pulled into the By-Pass Efficiency's lot and killed the engine, slanting a glance at Sam out of the corner of his eye.

Sam nodded, collecting his papers and notes. "Sure, yeah. Did you managed to get anything else out of her? Besides her phone number of course," he said, with the implied eye roll audible in his voice.

Dean smirked and slid out, following Sam into the room. "Nah, just the location of the farm. And dude! Like getting her number is a bad thing? Did you see the knockers on her?" He pushed past Sam, waving the napkin containing the waitresses neat handwriting and digits.

Sam sighed. "Must you always, Dean?"

Dean bit the tip of his tongue and smiled. "I must, Sammy. Gotta have a little bit of fun where and when you can."

Sam shook his head and went about readying things for that night's hunt.

....

Sam was not happy. Dean wasn't either but really, Sam's unhappiness about the whole thing was cheering him up. Considerably.

"C'mon Sammy! It wasn't that bad!" He said as they trudged back to the Impala.

Sam snorted. "Says the man who didn't get beaten over the head with a seventeen year old's purse! What the hell did she have in that thing? Rocks?" He rubbed the growing knot on the back of his head, grimacing.

Dean tried to stifle his chuckle. "You shoulda seen your face, man! Priceless!" Dean out and out laughed then and pointedly ignored Sam's 'I so wish I could kill you with my brain right now' looks. Dean sobered up as the edge of the woods and Mount Airy Drive came into view. "Good thing you managed to scare them off before ole Becky made her appearance though. Although maybe that girl and her purse would've been a help. Hey, Sam! Maybe we should get you a purse, fill it with rocks."

Sam just continued to glare and stalked off towards the car, leaving Dean in his wake. Dean spread his arms and said, "What? Was it something I said?"

.....

Dean sat huddled behind three stacked bales of hay, waiting breathlessly in the still Autumn moonlight. He could hear Sammy thrashing around in the stalks of corn, flashlight bouncing and he put his arm over his mouth, muffling the laugh that was trying to escape. He peeked over the top of the hay and yes. Sam was almost to where he was waiting and he crouched, prepared to strike.

Sam burst through the last row of corn and Dean jumped up, his own flashlight illuminating his features from beneath his chin. He let out a shout and Sam's eyes widened. He flailed a bit before sprawling in the dirt. Dean lost it, laughing so hard his eyes teared up and he ended up bent over double, practically wheezing.

"Dean! What the hell, man! I thought we were supposed to be checking out the... Wait a minute. This cornfield isn't haunted at all is it? YOU ASSHOLE!"

Dean couldn't stop laughing long enough to answer his kid brother. He held up a finger, telling him to wait a minute before Sam stood up and started angrily brushing off his clothes. And reading Dean the riot act.

"Jesus, Dean! Are there other people out there? Is that what I heard? I had my .45 out! I could've shot some poor unsuspecting school girl!" Sam cried, looking ready to beat his brother into a pulp.

Dean sniffled and straightened, laughter still dancing in his eyes. "You mean like the poor, unsuspecting school girl we ran into in the woods? I don't think they make 'em like that around him Sam." Dean started to make his way back to the car which it was parked far enough up the road that Sam hadn't seen the signs advertising Hardy's Haunted Cornfield. Sam followed Dean, silently fuming, glaring extra hard at the signs when he passed them. Dean started chuckling again.

Sam slid in the passenger side and crossed his arms, feeling used, abused and really pissed off.

Dean slid in and started the car. They started back towards the motel to spend the rest of the night sleeping before heading out the next morning. They passed the closed Galleria and Dean smirked again. "You want us to stop on the way out tomorrow, Sam? Getcha a purse, put some rocks in it so you can protect yourself from the big bad high school girls?"

Dean laughed as if he had just made the funniest joke in history. Sam slumped down in his seat further and scowled. "Fuck you, Dean. You're an asshole."

Dean just chuckled harder and turned up Motorhead, Lemy's voice blaring out of the speakers into the chill Pennsylvania night.