Pain Beyond Pain

The Impala cruised down an empty mountain highway in Colorado, its headlights the only brightness for miles. On the left side of the speeding car, a wide view of the clear night sky provided twinkling stars and a dark horizon. On the other, an even darker view of a deeply black and unusually dense forest came right up next to the road, seemingly threatening to overtake it and cover it completely. The night, often so alive with animal and insect sounds, was somehow silent, and thick with a blanket of quietness, like when a child plays hide and seek, and holds his breath for fear of being found. That quiet was punctured only by the sounds of the black chevy's engine and the Metallica that was coming muffledly from inside of it. Tree covered mountains loomed in the distance, suggesting that the unending expanse of wooded land could not be obstructed by such things as mere folds in the crust of the earth.

The music stopped mid-song as Dean pressed the brake, pulling the key out of the ignition. He paused only to glance at the odd magnitude of dark that lay formidably beside his selected parking place in the middle of nowhere. Raising his eyebrows, his gaze soon met that of his brother beside him in the passenger seat, and Dean took a moment to flash Sam a wry grin.

"Well, this place just certainly looks open and inviting," he remarked, always willing to offer up a serving of sarcasm in the midst of the most daunting of situations. Sam turned from looking out the window, having been taking in the forest also. He faced his older brother, looking exasperated but amused as he responded.

"Who the heck goes hiking in a jungle like that?"

"I believe the term is 'forest,' Sammy. But yeah, you kinda have to be loads of stupid to go in there for a pleasure stroll," Dean pulled a .45 from his waistband, checking the safety and grinning yet again.

"Whaddaya say we waste the evil sucker hiding up in there before she kills anymore nature-loving idiots?"

"I believe the term is 'witch,' Dean." Sam was grinning himself now.

"Yeah, whatever."

The boys exited the classic car, armed to the teeth with silver rounds and blessed ashes, ready to take on a Cave Witch for the first time in their hunting careers. As they made their way into the dense trees, guns drawn, Sam asked Dean a question for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"So remember Dean, we have to make sure-"

"Hands first, head after, I got it, I got it, you don't have to drill me."

Sam had been incredibly clear the first hundred times he had explained to Dean just exactly how to tackle this type of creature.

The Winchester brothers had picked up on a small Colorado newspaper about hiking disappearances in coincidence with a supposedly haunted forest. Having done the research - well, Sam having done the research - the conclusion came to be that the offending supernatural evil was something called a Cave Witch, someone who had been shunned for practicing magic, only to die alone in a secluded place - like, oh, say, a cave or forest - after attempting to eat parts of her own body to survive. These legendary creatures were said to be missing limbs or even just chunks of flesh, and known to be incredibly vicious, attacking any living creature on sight, starving for food and furious for being forced into seclusion. Unlike any other spirit, these had physical bodies, and could still use the magic of their days alive to harm their victims.

Sucks for the missing hikers.

Sam had called Bobby the day before for any pointers on dealing with such a foe. Bobby's reaction had been disconcerting to say the least.

"You're going after a WHAT?!"

"Uh, a cave witch? Its not that bad, I think we just need to-"

"Are you insane? Those things are the baddest, most horrible, and most difficult things to hunt, Sam."

"Really?"

"I mean it, you don't go after one of those things without knowing exactly what to do, and certainly not alone you understand me?"

"I wasn't planning on it-"

"I didn't say you were, but I'm telling you anyway. You had better watch yourself cuz those things are awful, and I mean just awful."

"You ever go up against one?"

"Me and your dad did once. Worst hunt of my life, Sam. You better listen to me and listen good. Here's what you need to do..."

Bobby had proceeded to explain that a Cave Witch could not be killed until the source of its magic was destroyed. Most used a hand or even a particular finger to control and distribute spells. These things were fast and dangerous and you needed to distract them to get a clear shot. By throwing a handful of blessed ashes at one, you could get it to pause long enough to fire silver rounds into its hands, then proceed to pump its head full of silver as well. The important part was that you had to shoot the hands first, because unless the magic was halted, the witch could not be killed.

Since then Sam had been reminding Dean every other minute to shoot the hands first, shoot the hands first, shoot the stinking hands first. It was getting annoying.

As they made their way deeper into the wood, Dean kept his eyes peeled for any sudden movements, readying himself to fire at any moment.

Sam was by his side taking point as the air around them became more confined, and the unnatural silence around them pressed on their vigilant ears.

Too bad the witch knew how to be really quiet.

Sam had just turned his head the slightest bit to make sure that Dean was still behind him, a habit that usually didn't hinder their hunts. Dean saw the movement, knowing that it was Sam's way of keeping an eye out for his big brother, watching his back. Even with that small gesture Sam instilled a feeling of importance in Dean, and the older nearly smiled as he saw Sam's eyes move to double check on him. Then Dean saw the pale form of something incredibly ugly leaping out directly from Sam's new blind spot. She moved faster than it should have been physically possible to move, seemingly faster than sound, because Dean saw her with her mouth open and making sound before he heard it. In that split second that it took to raise his rfirearm, he took in the sight of her drawn, sunken face, devoid of color with skin stretched taut over a bony frame. Her stark white hair and tattered, bloodstained robes rippled behind her as she struck, her unnaturally long fingernails serving as jagged claws - claws headed straight for Sammy.

The elder Winchester managed to squeeze the trigger after what seemed an eternity, shouting a warning simultaneously, but both the sound of the cry and the gunshot were drowned out as the shrill screeching that was being made by the witch finally met his ears. The shot and shout came too late and the witch slammed into an unprepared Sam, sending him flying and then tumbling with her thirty feet, halting only when they crashed roughly into a tree.

Dean's lags couldn't carry him fast enough as he frantically made his was to his brother, seeing that the witch was still on top of him. She turned from Sam, rising and screeching furiously at Dean as he neared.

All thoughts of process left his mind as one sole goal took over: get her away from Sammy protect Sammy, save Sammy.

Dean's instincts trumped the directions he had been given, and he fired directly into the screaming creature's face, pumping the trigger and swearing aloud. She shrieked once more at the sting of the silver before tearing off into the night, leaving an unmoving, unblinking Sam face up on the damp forest floor behind her.

When Dean finally reached his brother's side, he was already fearing the worst.

And the worst it was.

Sam had twisted his head slightly to the side, as was his habit when taking point on a hunt, always being careful to check his brother was safe.

The small movement had never been a problem before, Sam figured Dean never even noticed. So naturally he hadn't expected Dean to respond. Naturally he hadn't thought he'd receive a look of shock and horror from Dean's face.

Naturally, he hadn't expected a shrieking witch to collide with him at a million miles per hour.

Strangely, the pain wasn't as immediate as he would've thought - Sam was aware of flying, then tumbling, then smacking forcefully into something very solid.

Okay, now the pain was felt.

He would've yelled, would've fought back, but it takes a few seconds to collect yourself after hitting anything that hard. He managed to roll over roughly, the screeching woman still on top of him, slashing with her nails at the arms he had involuntarily raised to protect his face.

Yeah, that hurt too.

In the midst of the trying to stay conscious, trying to halt the vicious witches clawing, and trying to remember how to yell for help, Sam heard a voice yelling, a voice he recognized but couldn't quite place, seeing as he was currently distracted by the evil being in the act of tearing his forearms to shreds.

He managed to recall that he had not entered the forest alone.

Oh,...yeah.

Before Sam could even begin to wonder what had happened to Dean, the witch stopped her attack, turning away from him and rising, only to scream some more and then tear off into the forest. Sam had heard gunshots, and he desperately hoped that Dean hadn't missed, because...um, because...

All Sam's thoughts ceased to function. His body seized up, and he forgot to worry, to remember, to move.

Suddenly everything hurt to much to even comprehend what was happening around him.

Sam laid there, stiff and unblinking, unaware of the voice calling his name, unable to recall how to breathe, taken up completely in the absolute agony that was assaulting his mind, his body, his everything.

Then something helped him to breath, and Sam began to gulp air, not able to discern whether it was cold or not, all his senses enveloped in the suffering from unending torture he was feeling. He inhaled, gasping, only to force the air out as he began screaming uncontrollably, voicing the torment that he was experiencing. He was surely dying. You could not be feeling this and not be dying. He had to be dying. Please, let me be dying! This was too much to live with, Sam wanted it to end, needed it to end. Oh gosh it hurt so much, so bad, oh man make it stop, make it stop, make it STOP! He couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but scream in total anguish, not knowing where his body began or ended, feeling, hearing, seeing nothing but the pain being afflicted on his being. It was pain beyond pain, and he welcomed unconsciousness as his body reached its limit.

Dean had kneeled beside his wide-eyed brother, and he swore once he saw Sam's blood soaked sleeves. The witch had obviously hacked away at both arms, but at least nothing alse looked broken or bleeding. But why wasn't Sam moving?

"Sam? Sam..." He received no answer, and Dean leaned over his brother, snapping his fingers over his dilated eyes, trying to get a response.

"C'mon Sammy, you're okay! Sam what's wrong?!" Dean put a hand to his brother's face while he did a quick check over Sam's body for any hidden injuries.

Only then did he realize that Sam wasn't breathing.

"Sam - Sam! Stop it! Breathe! Oh, no you gotta breathe, man!" Dean blanched as the Sam's face began to redden from lack of oxygen.

"No!" Dean didn't hesitate, pinching his brother's nose and breathing air into his brother's lungs, then placing his hands on his chest, counting as he compressed Sam's diaphragm, willing Sam to take a breath. The older hunter muttered fearfully as he bent to blow into Sam's lungs again.

"Man, what did she do to you?" He pulled up, beginning chest compressions again, terrified when Sam's eyes remained unresponsive.

"Sammy!"

"Suddenly Sam's back arched hugely, his eyes watering as he gulped cold, fresh, mountain air.

Dean's immense relief might've even brought him to tears had it not been so short lived, because no sooner had Sam gotten a breath in when he began to scream. First trembling, then thrashing wildly, Sam's body moved of its own accord, wreaking havoc upon itself, and Dean was horrified to see Sam attempting to claw his own face off.

"Sam, no! Stop!" Dean pulled his still screaming brother's hands away from his face, restraining him against the ground. Dean searched his frantic mind for some clue as to what was happening, panicking because he didn't know what to do. Sam jerked in his grasp, twitched onto his side and retched. Dean knew his brother must be going through some serious pain to be reacting like this. Before the older hunter could think of what to do next, Sam's eyes rolled back into his head, and the thrashing ceased along with the screaming as he passed out.

Dean's shock didn't stop him from making one more check of Sma's vitals, noting the quickened pulse, and making sure that air was being breathed evenly by his brother before hoisting his sibling over his shoulder, groaning under the dead weight, and making his way as fast as possible out of the witch's domain and back to the Impala.

He had no sooner reached the edge of the forest and laid a still unconscious Sam beside the car before he whipped out his cell phone and dialed Bobby's number.

Kneeling beside his brother, Dean's fear at the memory of Sam's screams of agony morphed into determination and pure, unbridled fury and the witch that was still somewhere out there in the woods.

He tried not to remind himself that she would be dead right now if he had just remembered to shoot her stupid hands first. He tried not to think that Sam's arms wouldn't be bloodied and torn if Dean had blown her claws away. He tried to ignore the immense amount of guilt that was threatening to overtake him.

The phone rang, a tinny sound, and Dean waited impatiently for Bobby to answer.

The Cave Witch had done something awful to Sam, and Dean needed to know what.