Title: Resurrection
Author: alakewood
Rating: PG-13-ish
Summary: Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam knew he should do something, but all he could manage was watching with horrified fascination as Dean sliced open his hand and pressed the bleeding wound to the stone.

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When Sam finally caught up with Dean, he was kneeling in front of a large stone grave marker, chanting in some arcane language that Sam had never heard before.

Dean's head tilted back slightly, his voice getting louder and more persistent as began repeating the incantation. He raised his arms, palms up; then his head bowed and his hands fell to his lap, out of Sam's sight.

As Dean started rocking back and forth, slowly at first, the stone started to glow. He was shouting now. Only a silhouette against the brightness. The light flashed, and Dean suddenly went silent and still – as did everything else.

"Dean?" Sam ventured in a whisper. "Dean."

Dean didn't acknowledge him at all.

But the demon did.

Dean's head turned towards him, and Sam caught a glimpse of the roiling black eyes.

"What the…?" When the hell had that happened? He and Dean had been separated for an hour. Tops.

The demon – or, Dean – looked away. Eyes trained on the marker in front of him first, then the ground. The chanting resumed, very quietly, and he brought his arms out to his sides. Left hand palm-up again, right hand holding what Sam recognized as a dagger when the blade gleamed in what moonlight was cast on the small clearing in the graveyard.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam knew he should do something, but all he could manage was watching with horrified fascination as Dean sliced open his hand and pressed the bleeding wound to the stone. A low rumbling started almost immediately, then symbols started to faintly appear on the smooth surface of the granite.

The light that emanated from the marker, this time, started out so intense that it blinded Sam. His eyes had barely adjusted to the brilliance when he saw Dean plunge the dagger into his stomach. "Dean!"

Just as Sam reached him, Dean's head fell back, mouth open wide as the demon, a substance thicker and darker than smoke, left his body. It entered the stone through the light-etched symbols and everything went dark and quiet again.

---

"Why can't we find a job somewhere where the temperature is above freezing-my-ass-off? Like, in Florida or California. Somewhere with a beach?" Dean questioned, clearly irritated, as he turned the heater on full-blast.

"Next time," Sam said with a grin, flipping through loose sheets of paper in his lap. "I'm not so sure this is another Woman in White that we're dealing with. I mean, nobody's died. People just keep seeing her."

"So we're doing this why?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Just thought that, maybe, we could have an easy job every now and then. One that's not gonna end up with bruises or broken bones. Just put her to rest."

Dean nodded. "But we couldn't wait until, oh, after this ice age was over?"

Laughing, Sam responded, "Don't be such a wuss, Dean."

"Wuss? I swear to God that my balls have retracted up into my body so that they don't fall off." Under his breath, he added, "Bitch."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Jerk."

"Okay. So, fill me in."

"Over the past seventy-odd years, people have been encountering a young woman in a white dress on the side of this road. Uh…" He shuffled through a couple papers. "Archer Avenue. Um, people have just seen her, others have picked her up and given her a ride. Once they get near this cemetery, she either gets out and disappears, or vanishes as they're passing. Legend is, in the 30s, this girl gets into a fight with her boyfriend at a dance and tries to hitchhike down the road; ends up the victim of a hit-and-run. They call her Resurrection Mary."

---

Sam clutched at the front of Dean's coat in an effort to hold his brother upright. "Hey," he said, panic gripping his chest. "Hey! Look at me, Dean. Look at me."

Dean's head bobbed a few times before he leaned forward and rested his forehead against Sam's. His cold hand curled around Sam's neck. "So much for an easy job, huh?" His attempt at a laugh sounded like he was choking. He tried to stand, but collapsed into Sam instead.

"Dean." Sam hauled him up, careful of the stab wound to his stomach. "We gotta go." He cast a glance to the stone marker, which looked just as it had when he'd first seen it.

"We gotta find that demon, Sam," Dean said urgently.

"No. We gotta get you to a hospital."

They only made it a few steps before Dean doubled over in pain, falling to his hands and knees. A hand went to his stomach – blood was starting to seep through his jacket. A couple droplets stained the white snow. "Sammy, run."

"What?" Sam crouched down next to him.

Dean, grunting with effort, got to his feet, pulling Sam up, as the rumbling started again. "It opened something."

Sam hooked an arm under Dean's and around his back, looking over his shoulder as they headed out of the graveyard. The symbols glowed in the stone and the ground in front of it began to crumble away. When they got to the car, Sam was still staring.

"Sam. Sammy!" Dean slapped a hand on the roof of the car. "Let's go."

The entire cemetery was alit with the strange bluish-green glow. Sam turned to Dean, whose skin was far too pale and was breathing unevenly.

"Sam, drive!"