Hello friends! I hope you're all well and that many of you, like me, are on countdown to the Chicago Con! If so i'll be seeing you there x

Just a little story i wanted to share, post AHBL , full of angst, intrigue (i hope) and some beat up boys. Enjoy xxx

Disclaimer: Still not mine (until the autograph session at Chicago Con where Jensen and Jared will unknowingly sign a paper thats really a contract to state they are mine)

My eternal thanks to Allison, the light in my dark xxxx I tweaked this after she checked it so all mistakes are my own and you can't have them.

Heather, thank you for answering all my questions, my gift to you is within the pages soon to be posted xxx

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Well its late in the hour and a few more grains of sand will fall.

On the colourful flowers grown upon the dust and moss.

Now I feel the worst is near,

I hold them close and count their years.

And pray a ray of light appears

To shine down on us here.

-Chris Cornell

At first there was a shiver, followed by a deep throated moan that pulled at Dean's heart and mocked his physical disabilities. The moan was followed by another shiver, more violent in nature, almost as though Sam's body had had enough and was now trying to disengage itself from the suffering its inhabitant was enduring. A shiver, a spasm, then an all out convulsion.

Dean tried to drag his body the short distance across the mud and rocks at the bottom of the hole to his brother, clawing his way toward the shaking, moaning younger man. Sam's eyes were open and focused on his brother, silently making a desperate plea for Dean to make it better, to take the pain away by holding him until the horror of the nightmare faded into the distance and the images retreated into nothing but a vague memory of something evil. Make it stop Dean, please.

Dean ignored the stones as they cut into his palms, ignored the pull on his already battered body and ignored the thought that he should be feeling pain in the leg that dragged behind him as he made his way to his brother. Dean counted in his head, marking off the seconds as the seizure progressed. It was nearing a minute. He was nearing panic. He was nearing Sam.

"I'm here Sammy, its gonna be alright. I'm here." He called breathlessly, unsure if his reassurances were heard.

Dean was finally close enough to lay a bloodied hand on Sam's shoulder. The shaking was beginning to subside and he watched helplessly as Sam's eyes rolled back into his head . One second his body was so full of vibration and energy; the next it became still and almost….no! Don't think that word. Not again. Not again.

"Sam? SAMMY?!" Dean pulled himself further forward and used all his strength to lift Sam's shoulders. He shimmied beneath the younger man, laying Sam's head in his lap and running a hand through the unconscious man's hair.

The rain began to fall again, coating them both in its wet embrace. Running in the rivulets already made by the previous downpour, the hole was becoming waterlogged and soon would begin to fill. Yet all of this was lost on Dean as he rocked his brother back and forth, the pain in his ribs and back ignored.

Dean concentrated on his movements, rocking back and forth, making it ok, humming a long forgotten song. He allowed his mind to drift away from the situation and ignore the threat that still loomed in the woods surrounding them.

The rain fell from high above, set free by the parental arms of the clouds to freefall toward the land that held the promise of a new life, of a new adventure. Falling past the hills and the trees of the woodland toward a small clearing amongst the lavish pines , the rain plummeted through the air toward the two men who lay battered and bleeding at the bottom of a deep grave.

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Three days previous…

"Do you have to eat like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like that, everything piled in on top of everything else. Its a wonder you know what bacon and eggs taste like on their own."

Dean smiled a full and appreciative open mouthed smile. Sam averted his eyes before the sight put him off his own breakfast.

"So come on Scully, why is it we're here in this nature invested hell hole for?"

"Firstly, I've explained to you I am NOT Scully. Secondly this isn't a hell hole. Its one of the most beautiful woodland areas in America."

Dean raised his eyes and held his fork aloft, egg dripping from the edge making a lazy trail toward his fingers.

"Or so it says on the sign behind you" Sam sniggered and Dean smiled.

"Dude you know I hate camping."

"This isn't camping. We're staying in a motel."

"Yeah well, just so you know I intend to stay in that motel each night we're here so don't get any funny ideas."

"What have you got against nature Dean?"

"Firstly, wendigo's and them trying to kill me. Secondly, rivers and being submerged in them."

Sam chewed his bottom lip as he tried to think of a decent argument. He fell short and attacked his eggs instead.

Dean pulled the local paper toward him and read while he ate. Six people had gone missing over the past two years, always in pairs and always hiking in the same part of the forest during the same time of year. The latest victims were a married couple in their forties who'd come out from the city to spend a week with nature and enjoy the beautiful scenery of the forest. They'd walked into the wood on a Monday, only to be carried out in body bags a week later. The husband had been an executive of a high-powered law firm, so when the local authorities had said they'd searched and found no trace of the couple, extra help had been sent in by the law partners. The new search party had been told, in no uncertain terms, to check again and make damn sure they found something.

And find something they did.

Dean read the front page. In the week prior to Dean and Sam's arrival, a grave site had been discovered containing the body of the lawyer's wife. The grave was deep and located in a small clearing, while the husband's body had been found a mile from the site. The details were sketchy as to how he died but the newspaper article mentioned a head injury as the possible cause.

According to the paper, authorities were speculating that the husband had deliberately taken his wife out there to kill her but that she must have fought back, injuring the man who died before he made it back to town.

Sam put on his geek boy research outfit and uncovered that three of the other 'missing' people had actually been found in a grave in that same area but that the local police had kept that information under wraps, not wanting to cause a panic at the height of the tourist season. Each time a body was found the police had pulled it out and refilled the hole. Yet the grave would always reappear and was always a little deeper than before.

Only the lawyer's body had ever been found outside of the grave.

"I'm sure the other bodies are out there somewhere Dean" Sam said around a mouthful of egg.

"We need to figure out what we're dealing with before we try to find the other bodies."

"You just don't want to go out into the woods today."

Dean stared at Sam as he silently counted the seconds for the penny to drop. It wasn't so much a penny dropping as a red tinge rising from Sam's neck to his face.

"Am I gonna be sure of a big surprise? Am I Sammy?"

"Shut up."

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Sam awoke a little before dawn, their 'research' the night before consisted of Dean downing at least three quarters of a bottle of whiskey in shots and talking to the local women folk. Even though his brother didn't usually drink on the job, Sam had kept quiet and allowed him to use his drunk charm to weasel out a few more 'well people say..' stories. It had been strange watching Dean throughout the night. Rarely had Sam seen his brother so drunk while working a case. But then, rarely did Dean have only a year to live.

Sam scrubbed a hand through his hair and made his way into the small bathroom, the room's décor in the main room screamed of nature, green carpet with green walls covered with illustrated trees. The bathroom though was in stark contrast to the rest of the room with its metallic silver sink and bath, brown walls, and Dean's favourite of all, a pink toilet. When Sam had first walked into the managers office to book the room he'd frowned at the elderly man's snigger as he handed him the room key.

"Only room left there young fella, sorry."

"No need to apologize sir."

The man sniggered again and shuffled his arthritic body away from Sam towards a small couch in the back room.

"Sorry again" he called over his shoulder as another snigger escaped his lips shaking his frail frame.

Sam could just imagine the old man laughing out loud when he'd heard Dean's shout of 'Barbie toilet just for Sammy!'.

Sam braced his hands against the metallic sink and gazed at the man in the mirror . The reflection didn't seem his own. The eyes looking back at him didn't seem as innocent as they once where. Gone was the wild-eyed belief that big brothers could make everything right, and that no matter what happened, if you had enough faith you'd find a way through. How was he going to find a way through this if he lost his brother? How was he going to save Dean? Sam had flung himself into research the day the deal had been made. Three months had passed and still he had found nothing to save Dean. No answers, no clause. Only pitiful looks from the people whose help he'd enlisted. The only person who held onto the belief that there was a way out had been Bobby. He adamantly refused to give up even when his contacts told him there was no way to change the terms of the deal. Dean had begun to get frustrated with the amount of time Sam and Bobby were spending on this 'thing' (as he called it) so he had convinced Bobby that it was time to go their separate ways while they continued to hunt the evil that existed and the evil that escaped.

Unbeknown to Dean, Bobby and Sam had made a pact to speak every week, either on the phone or preferably in person to share anything they had come across regarding deals with demons and the escape thereof. And unbeknown to Sam, it was also a good way for Bobby to keep an eye on his and Dean's well being. Since John's death the older hunter felt extra responsibility for the boys. So every week since all hell tried to break loose, he made a point to speak to Sam.

Sam hated the fact they had to keep it quiet, but it seemed as if any time someone tried to help his brother, Dean would shut down or attack like a wild animal cornered by death.

Sam smiled sadly. He guessed that was as good a description of his brother as any.

The young hunter turned away from the mirror and its despondent reflection of his tortured soul and turned the shower on full blast. Figuring Dean would be sleeping in a little later than usual, he decided to use all of the hot water.

Dean's first thought as the headache behind his eyes forced him awake, was that whiskey should really come with a warning and a mandatory cut-off point. His second thought was where could he get some more.

He knew he was heading down a road that John travelled when they were young; a road that enticed many travellers with its promise of freedom, only to wind and meander its way to nothingness, leaving the weary follower alone in the dark.

But it was the oblivion that came with the drink that Dean sought; the escape from his decision, the obliteration of the memory of his choices. He would do it again in a heartbeat, but it didn't mean he wasn't scared. The closer he came to his deadline the more panicked Dean was becoming. It had sounded like such a long time. Not as long as he was hoping, but still, it was a year. A whole year. The very next day though? It was less than a year. It had taken 24 hours for that thought to step up into his brain and take up residence. His year was dwindling and there was nothing he could do but allow oblivion to take over every once in a while. He knew Sam was worried about the drinking, yet he also knew his brother understood and recognised the need for Dean to escape. He doubted that he'd be allowed this luxury for very much longer though. The fact Sam had manhandled him out of the bar after he'd tripped and landed in a heap at the owners feet was testament to the fact that soon Sam was going to end the party.

Sasquatch, the killjoy of all things fun.

The headache behind his eyes stretched its arms and embraced his brain as he became more aware of his surroundings. A crack of his eyes and the blinding laser of the early morning light through the thin curtains almost rendered him permanently blind. He quickly shut them again until the pain subsided.

Eventually he chanced opening his eyes again. He knew what was laid out on the table next to him before he spotted the objects.

A glass of water. Two aspirin. And he'd bet his pert and toned ass that the trash can was on the floor by his bed.

Way to go Sammy.

Sam turned off the water and stood in the warmth of the steam from the shower for a few moments. There was some hot water left, some being not much. That would teach the jerk to get so drunk he'd started calling everyone flower, including the men, which was the point that Sam pulled him from the bar and brought him staggering back to the motel.

A cold shower would get his brother back in the game. Of course Sam wasn't going to mention that there was no hot water. He was sure his brother would find out the hard way.

As he dried himself off the faint noise of retching came from the main room. Sam shook his head and wiped his hand across the mirror. The eyes staring back at him seemed more awake, but deeply haunted. Time was running out. He didn't know if he could do this alone. He didn't want to find out. He wouldn't find out. Of that he was going to make damn sure.

"You ok in there Sparky?" Sam called as he opened the bathroom door, releasing the warm steam into the small green room.

Dean looked up slowly, gave him the finger, and continued to throw up what little food he'd consumed the day before. Sam scrunched up his face and opened a window, allowing a cool breeze to blow through the room and eject the smell of the vomit from the trash can Dean had left to rock precariously on its edge as he collapsed back down onto the bed.

"Dean?"

"Mmm?"

"Time to get up, get showered, get going."

"Get going where?" Dean kept his arm over his eyes, hoping beyond hope that the spinning room would stop and the marching band beside his head would get the damn hint and leave.

"Coroners office remember? That girl you were..erm….talking too worked there. She said the body of the lawyer couple was still on site, remember?"

When Dean made no attempt to move, Sam frowned. He was about to roll Dean out of the damn bed when his brother pulled the arm shielding his eyes away and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. Sitting up he peered at Sam through squinted eyes.

"What girl?"

"Dean!" Sam threw his hands up in frustration.

"Alright, alright. I'm coming." Grabbing a change of clothes and his toiletries Dean stomped into the small bathroom. Within minutes, a cry of "What the hell Sam?" brought a smile to the younger Winchester's face. Guess Dean still hadn't learned to test the water before getting into the shower.

TBC

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