Chapter 2

Dean pushed the Impala as hard as he dared, making the ten-and-a-half hour trip in just over nine hours. He'd watched the sun rise in the rear view mirror, feeling the sweat beading his forehead even before the car heated up.

As precious moments ticked by, Dean followed the winding dirt road that led into the mountains, his hands tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He kept his eyes open for signs that might help, that might remind him of something Sam had said. Even a ranger station would do. He hated the idea of involving Law in this, but he needed to find Sammy fast.

Dean had given his blessing for Sam to go on the damned field trip in the first place, even though every bit of common sense he possessed screamed against it. Bobby had assured him that Bill Cooper, someone Sam had met while Dean was down under, was a good guy, a good hunter. That hadn't helped Sam. Dean should have gone with his gut on this one.

He finally spotted the sign for a ranger station and made the turn. It was another two miles before he pulled to a stop in front of the cabin. With a quick glance around, Dean dug his FBI badge out of the glove compartment and stuck it in his pocket, then the Glock. Once he was out of the car, he stuffed the gun into his waistband and headed for the station.

The door opened into a one-room building with a fireplace and sitting area to the right and tourist information to the left. In the far left corner, a young man in uniform sat at a desk reading the morning paper, a cup of coffee steaming on the blotter in front of him.

"Mornin'," Dean said with a smile, making his way to the desk and offering his hand.

The ranger, whose nametag read "Cutler," folded his paper and stood to shake. "Mornin'. What can I help you with?"

Dean pulled the ID from his pocket and held it up for a moment. "Agent Lee," he announced, snapping the wallet closed and stuffing it back into his pocket.

"FBI," the ranger said, wide-eyed. "You here about the missing hikers?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded, running with the ball. Sammy had all the info on this one, but hopefully, this guy could fill in some of the blanks. "Got a report of a guy missing from South Dakota who was last seen in this area. You hidin' something nasty in these woods?"

The ranger gave a nervous laugh, and at that moment, Dean knew the kid had heard stories. Stories he probably didn't want to share with the FBI.

Dean smiled. "Look, that coffee smells mighty good, and I just drove through the night to get here. I could use some caffeine."

"Oh! Oh, sure! Sorry." Cutler headed over to the pot and poured fresh-brewed coffee into a mug emblazoned with "Phoenix Gold Mine." "Cream and sugar?"

"Just black."

The ranger brought the mug over and handed it to Dean, gesturing for him to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

Dean took a sip of the hot liquid and closed his eyes, savoring it. He opened his eyes and smiled at Cutler. "That's good stuff."

The kid beamed.

Glancing casually at the mug, Dean said, "Gold mines, huh? Still find gold in them thar hills?" He grinned at his own wit.

"Pyrite mostly, but sometimes someone finds a small piece. You should take the tour, you know. When you have some free time."

"You can tour the mines?"

"Some. Phoenix is the most popular."

"How many mines are there in the area, would you say?"

Cutler pursed his lips. "Geez, I dunno. They're all over. But not all of them are open to the public. Some are really dangerous." He shook his head. "Every year we get some idiot who thinks the sign 'Danger, Keep Out' means there's gold in there that someone's trying to hide."

"You think that's what's happening now?"

Cutler didn't answer right away. He wrapped his hands around his mug and took a drink. Finally, he nodded. "We've just never had so many go missing before. If your guy is involved, that makes six in the past two months. Usually, it's only a couple per year. We have a pretty good safety record," he added in his defense.

Dean leaned forward in his chair. "We think this is an isolated incident. Have there been any strange reports lately? Figures lurking around? Anything?"

"Well…" The kid thought about it a moment, and once again looked as though he wanted to say something but was leery about doing so.

"What?" Dean prompted.

"We did have a couple of people say that they saw a…a man…dressed like a miner."

Now they were getting somewhere. Dean carefully schooled his expression. "So?"

"No, I mean an old miner, like the actors who do those re-creations."

"Uh-huh. And where were those sighting, exactly?"

"Up by Parker's mine."

Dean canted his head. "Sounds like as good a place as any to start. How do I get there?"

"Oh, uh…" Cutler stood and headed for the tourist information area. He grabbed a trail map from one of the racks, then fished around the drawers for a highlighter. "You can drive most of the way…" He found what he was looking for and pulled off the cap. "Then you'll have to park around here." His finger hit the map before he circled the area with the highlighter. "You'll have to walk from there. It's not a marked trail."

Leaning on the counter, Dean watched the yellow line stretch along the paper and chewed his bottom lip in thought. It looked like quite a hike. It would take a while. Sammy…

"Here ya go."

Dean blinked, focused, then took the map Cutler was holding out to him. He folded it in half and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Thanks for your help." He offered a hand again.

Cutler shook it. "You got a partner? We, ah…," he shrugged sheepishly, "never recommend anyone going up there alone. Sorry. My job."

Dean nodded. "I appreciate that. Yeah, I got a partner." His throat tightened, and he had to swallow before continuing. "He's waiting for me." Then added silently, he'd better be.

~oooOOOooo~

The last of the debris loaded into the bucket, Sam sat back on his heels and took a moment to breathe, or try to, anyway. His chest hurt, and the air wheezed from his lungs, making him cough. His throat was sore and gritty, coated with dirt like everything else, but he could barely work up enough saliva to spit it out, let alone swallow it. He needed water.

He'd gathered some the first couple of days. It had rained, and he'd been able to collect it. They'd shared it, him and Cooper, drinking sparingly.

Now it was gone. God, he was so thirsty.

Hunger was another problem. The second day without food had been the worst. Sam's head had pounded relentlessly, his stomach rumbling its discontent. Now it was a constant ache in his gut as his body pulled on its reserves to sustain him. It muddled his thoughts and made him dizzy.

Just a few minutes' rest…

But he'd been idle too long. Inactivity brought punishment, and Sam shuddered at the thought. He willed himself to move, but his body was slow to respond. Get up. Get. Up. He grabbed the sides of the wooden bucket and used it as support to push up. His arms shook, muscles barely able to hold his weight. Finally managing to get his feet beneath him, Sam pushed upright, then staggered. He tried to catch himself, but the chain between his shackled ankles snapped taut, throwing him even further off-balance and sending him crashing into the rock wall. He managed to get his arms up to keep himself from hitting face-first, but he gasped as his hands hit the uneven surface. Fingers curling for purchase, he lowered his forehead against the cool rock. God, please…

He wanted to sleep, something else that had been denied him. He'd caught a few hours here and there, and caught hell for it, too. But what was more frightening was that when he did manage to fall asleep, it only seemed to be halfway, not the restful slumber his body craved. Then it was difficult to wake up. It got harder and harder each time, until he wasn't sure whether he was asleep or awake, existing somewhere in between.

Whispers flowed through the passages. Voices. But Sam couldn't understand the words.

"Cooper?" he rasped, but the sound didn't carry. He hadn't seen Coop in…how long? Maybe it was…

How much time had passed since he'd spoken to his brother? Hours? Days? Time was meaningless down here. Time was…

Time.

"Wasting time."

Sam jolted back to awareness at the sound of Parker's voice so close to his ear. But when he turned, his back to the wall, there was no one there. Gritting his teeth, Sam pushed off his support and stood upright, legs wobbling beneath him. He took one shaky step, then another, and reached down for the bucket. It was so much heavier than he thought it would be. Staggering under the weight, Sam half-carried, half-dragged the waste to the backfill area of the passage and dumped it.

The rocks cascaded down the sides, tumbling like a tiny avalanche, revealing…Sam's eyes narrowed in the dim light as he tried to make out what he was seeing. It wasn't rock, whatever it was. He stepped closer, leaned forward…

"No," he whispered, dropping to his knees. The waste rock had fallen away to reveal a hand, a hand adorned with a Celtic knot ring. "Cooper."

The rest of the body was completely buried, but Sam reached out anyway, trembling fingers searching for a pulse in the cold wrist. Nothing.

Sam hung his head. He hadn't known Cooper all that well, but he was suddenly consumed by an overwhelming sense of loss. "You son of a bitch," he breathed, anger welling up until he shouted into the empty mine, "Parker, you son of a bitch!" It came out harsh, broken, but he didn't care.

No one answered him.

Sam was well and truly alone.

~oooOOOooo~

It took just over an hour to make the trip, giving Dean's anxiety plenty of time to grow. What if this wasn't the right spot? What if—?

Then he saw it. Parked along the side of the road was a forest green Land Rover. Dean recognized it immediately as the vehicle Cooper had been driving when he'd picked up Sam, and some of the tension across his shoulders eased. He pulled up behind it and parked, then climbed out of his car, grabbed his bag and a heavy-duty flashlight, and circled around to the other vehicle.

He spotted the phone almost instantly on the ground just under the driver's side door. Dean picked it up, seeing it was a satellite phone. It was smeared with dirt, and what could be blood. Sam had called from an unknown number. Dean's heart pounded so hard, it hurt. Sam had almost gotten away.

Almost.

Dean pushed the thought back—and the emotion that went with it—so he could focus.

A quick search of the vehicle's interior revealed little. Dean easily found Cooper's cache, not difficult when you knew what to look for. But there was nothing to indicate where he and Sam had gone.

Okay. Mine, then. He consulted the map, then headed into the woods.

It was uphill most of the way, but the twenty-five-minute hike barely winded him. Grabbing a nearby sapling, Dean pulled himself forward on the steep incline. He could clearly see where the ground leveled off onto a plateau before continuing upward. If the map was correct, the mine's entrance should be right…there.

His heart racing, Dean scrambled up the rest of the way. When he crested the ridge, he realized it wasn't exactly a plateau; it was more a shelf on the side of the mountain. Tucked into a dark corner and surrounded by a chain-link fence was the entrance to the mine

Dean crept forward, instantly alert. More than likely he was safe in the daylight, but he wasn't taking any chances.

A faded, handwritten sign hung at an angle off one of the support beams at the entrance. "Trespassers Beware," it read. A much more recent addition was a posted sign on the fence from the authorities warning that the mine was unstable and therefore off-limits. Violators would be prosecuted. Signs like that had never stopped Dean before, especially when his brother's life was a stake. He was through the fence in about thirty seconds. Digging out his flashlight and turning it on, Dean stepped over the threshold.

And stopped.

About ten feet into the shaft, the passage was completely blocked by fallen debris, like there had been a cave-in. By the looks of things, it had happened a long time ago. A long time ago.

Sweeping the beam of light along the walls and floor, Dean searched for another way in. There had to be.

But the light revealed nothing. There weren't even any signs that anyone had been there. He had not just made this trek for nothing. Wasted all that time while Sam was—

The rage and frustration culminated into a single wrenching cry: "Sammy!"

Only the cry of a hawk answered him.

Dean spent the next two hours searching the area surrounding the mine entrance. Maybe there was a vertical shaft or some other entrance somewhere. But his efforts turned up nothing. His throat felt raw from calling his brother's name, but he wasn't giving up. He would never give up. He even tried Sam's cell, just in case.

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Dean considered his options. He could keep searching, or he could go back to the ranger station to try to get more information, or… He'd passed an old cabin on the way up. If that was the miner's cabin… He was back at the mine's entrance; he knew the way back from there. He turned to head back down the slope—

And stopped.

In his pocket, the EMF meter had come to life. Movement out of the corner of his eye whipped Dean's head around in time to see the figure of a man turn from him and walk into the mine.

"Hey!" Dean yelled. He scrambled back to the shelf and ran inside. Chest heaving for breath, he stood before the mass of fallen rock. There was no one else there.

"Get out."

The disembodied voice came from everywhere and nowhere. The voice on the phone.

"Get out!"

A rumble sounded deep in the mine. Horrified, Dean backed out, hands clenching into fists. Once he was over the threshold, the rumbling stopped. Son of a— The last thing he needed was to piss off a vengeful spirit. One that could bury his brother alive. And Sam was alive. Dean had to believe that. He just had to find him.

Not that long ago, Castiel had appeared to him and told him where he could find Sam. Where was the angel now? What, Sam's soul was worth saving, but his life wasn't? Okay, so maybe angels' priorities were different, but Dean intended on keeping his brother's life and soul intact.

It was getting dark. In the five or so minutes it took him to get to the cabin, he'd had to start using his flashlight again. Dean swept the light over the area, and the beam caught on the wood of the old building, nearly overgrown with vegetation. Crouching, he set his duffel on the forest floor and dug out the sawed-off. He checked the load, then snapped it shut.

Setting his jaw, Dean stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder and stalking toward the cabin, the EMF remaining silent in his pocket.

The door was ajar, jammed in place from years of settling. Dean slipped through sideways. He swung the light from side to side, moving carefully in case there were traps. Ghosts didn't usually play that game, but Dean was in full-on hunting mode and wasn't about to take any chances.

Dean swept the beam in a complete circle, but it wasn't until he was facing the door that he saw it. On the wall beside the frame was a handprint. A blood-and-dust, Sam-sized handprint. As he searched further, more evidence of Sam's stumbling flight assured Dean he was in the right place. He scanned the floor. The old boards were littered with the footprints, probably hikers who had come across the place. But this was one time Dean was grateful for the size of his brother's feet. The trail was easy to backtrack, and there were more bloody prints on the floorboards. He followed them until they—

Disappeared. That could only mean one thing.

Energized, Dean pushed to his feet and stomped one booted foot on the floorboards. He was rewarded with a deep, hollow thud. Yahtzee.

Dean pulled the knife from his boot and pried open what turned out to be a trap door. And found himself staring down into blackness.

Shining his light down the shaft, Dean saw a wooden ladder that led to the bottom, some twenty feet down. And there, just to the side of the ladder, was Sam's backpack.

Adrenaline kicked in, spiking Dean's pulse, tensing his muscles, making him hyper-alert. This was it. Sam was here. He tucked the sawed-off back into his bag, carefully climbed into the shaft, and descended into the darkness.

~oooOOOooo~

Sam sank to his knees, the tools slipping from his strengthless hands to hit the floor with a resounding clang.

He couldn't do this anymore. He just couldn't. He was so tired, he couldn't think straight. Maybe he'd end up like Cooper, but at that moment, he really didn't care. At least then he could rest. His body was shutting down, quaking with strain, refusing to obey his commands. It folded down and forward, his forehead touching his knees.

"Back to work. You want my gold, you can dig for it."

Sam heard the voice, but he couldn't move.

"Worthless whelp."

"I—I—" Sam tried to refute it, but the attempt choked him, sending him into a coughing fit that wreaked havoc on his overtaxed body. He nearly passed out from lack of air.

He was suddenly lifted and slammed back against the uneven wall. His cry was a strangled, rasping sound as he reached up with shaking hands to push at the frighteningly solid arm, its hand splayed against his chest, crushing him into the rock. But he had little strength, certainly not enough to combat the powerful spirit.

Sam blinked, trying to focus. When he did, he saw the raised pickax and knew his usefulness had ended. Just like Cooper.

"Parker, wait—" he tried to reason with the thing, but the pressure on his chest increased, driving the air from his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

This was it. He was going to die. Alone in the dark, in a stinking mine. Dean would never find him. Or…what if he did? Then…would there be another deal? And, oh, dear God, he couldn't handle that, not again, and—

"Hey!"

—and he knew that voice, wanted to sob with relief. Dean. His brother was there. Everything would be okay.

Then there was an explosion, and everything went impossibly darker.

TBC

One more chapter coming, guys. Thanks so much for the reviews! Since this story is h/c, you can expect the c in the next chapter. And since this story was written for Kati, I tried very hard to "push her buttons." Hope it works for you, too!