Chapter Three
"Sam!" Dean hollered. He turned abruptly with shotgun raised and aimed toward the sound of twigs cracking somewhere off to his right. The muscle in his jaw ticked ominously as he peered into the darkened forest.Lifting his flashlight, he directed it toward the trees but couldn't see anything beyond the unusually dense fog swirling ghostlike about him.
All around him, he could hear the sound of a woman softly humming and no matter how far he traveled through the forest, her haunting melody persisted. Dean swung around suddenly, feeling gentle fingers on his shoulder and saw a woman haloed in pale golden light staring at him. He aimed his shotgun at her, ready to fire, but when he looked into her sparkling blue-green eyes, all thought of harming her left him. He was about to say something, but she covered his mouth with her index finger.
"Shhh . . . Dean," she whispered in his ear. Then she placed her hands on either side of his headlowering it so she could gently kiss him on the forehead.She stepped back away from him, the mist enshrouding her. "You and your brother never should have come here. You keep too many secrets, tell too many lies . . . he could destroy you both," she warned before disappearing into the fog.
"Sammy . . . where the hell are you!" he called out, never taking his eyes off the spot where he'd seen the ghostly woman. The clear warning in her voice still echoing through his mind. Damn it! First demons and now spirits. As if this night couldn't get any worse. Why the hell didn't I make Sammy stay in the car? Christ, his ribs are barely healed from hunting that damn vampire and he insists he's fine. "I swear, Sammy, if you re-injure your ribs, I'm not going to be the one to haul you to the car this time!"
Mentally, he berated himself for not keeping a better eye on his younger brother as grotesque images flashed before his eyes. Visions of Sam's broken, blood-slathered body curled in a fetal position with eyes darkly haunting as if close to death.
"Sammy, you had better be close to death if you're not answering or I'm gonna kill ya!"
When the thick, unnatural fog rolled in, enveloping them in its menacingly silent embrace, he'd warned Sam to stick close. Sammy rolled his eyes and gave him the 'I'm not a baby' look.
"I'm not an idiot, Dean . . . I've been doing this almost as long as you and think I can handle myself." It was the last thing Sammy had said to him before he'd disappeared.
Lately, Sam had taken exception to Dean's need to protect him from all things' evil, brooding for days afterwards if Dean tried to step in and help him. Dean couldn't put a finger on exactly when the change had occurred, maybe it was after their hunt at the Roosevelt Asylum or perhaps after they'd found their father only to have him drive off and leave them. Then again, maybe it was a gradual change happening so slowly that Dean hadn't even noticed. Who do I think I am kidding?
He changed after the accident . . . after dad died.
Dean recalled during one particularly nasty argument, Sam had told him that if he'd been so damn worried about protecting him, why the hell did he track him down at college to go out on a hunt again. And then further added that if he wasn't off hunting with Dean, Jess would still be alive. That stung. It was the closest Sammy had ever come to blaming him for Jess' death.
Of course, Sammy apologized afterwards, assuring him that he hadn't meant to make it sound like he blamed him for her death. Dean forgave him. That was his life. That was just what he did . . . that was what he always did when the people in his life unthinkingly hurt him. It was better not to think about it or verbalize his own feelings. No one could hurt him if he built a wall to hold in all the hurt caused by those he cared for most.
It had been far too long since he'd last heard his brother's voice and he knew there were demons and spirits still lurked just out of sight, taunting him. Invisible to the eye, the demon screeched from what seemed like everywhere all at once, making it all but impossible to pinpoint exactly where it was.
Dean picked up his pace, trampling through overgrown brush, shotgun raised, alert for any noise or possible danger. The problem was in the dense mist, everything appeared ominous to him. Tree branches slapped his face and grasped at his leather jacket with bony skeletal fingers. Spectral eyes of what could've been demons or just as easily creatures of the forest, loomed in every direction. Low guttural growls met his ears, reminding him he definitely wasn't alone. And although he'd never liked the idea of being alone he'd definitely make an exception in this case.
After what seemed like forever, Dean stopped, turned and peered around, not certain where he was. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he was going in circles. Everything appeared exactly the same. Everywhere, all he could see were trees, rocks and the unending fog. No Sammy.
His stomach clenched in knots which pulled tighter and tighter while he stood helplessly searching for any signs of his brother. 'Damn it Sammy! Where the hell are you?'
As if to answer his unasked question, he heard a stifled sounding moan off to his left.His body instinctively flexed, his fingers tightened around the barrel of the shotgun, immediately reverting to hunt mode. "Sam . . . Sammy is that you?" Dean called out trying not to sound worried.
"Dean?" came a raspily shouted reply.
Relief washed over Dean with that one simple word. Sammy was okay. He hadn't lost him. "Yeah Sammy, I'm here, dude . . . just stay where you are, I'll come to you."
"Yeah, that's not gonna be a pro-blem," Sam's voice hitched as he tried to suppress a cry of pain. "I'm kinda stuck, Dean."
"Don't worry Sammy, I'm coming."
"Dean. Hurry!"
At the sheer sound of panic in Sammy's voice, Dean started running, blasting through trees, around boulders, and over rotted logs at breakneck speed. His mind raced ahead, terrified of what he'd find when he finally spotted his little brother. Hold on Sammy . . . I'm almost there.
He paused briefly to get his bearings and noticed a small beam of light coming from a grouping of trees to his right. Sammy's flashlight. He'd found him. With a determined expression, he ran the rest of the way. Nothing was going to prevent him from saving his little brother.
Sulfur, strong and pungent assailed his senses. Swallowing hard, his stomach lurched threateningly. The demon had to be close by. Dean narrowed his eyes and scanned the darkened recesses, only stopping when he saw Sammy. Sam crouched up against the tree, his head hung low. His left arm protectively cradled his shoulder. Dean heard the soft muffled sound of crying and it nearly broke his heart.
Slowly, fearing what he'd find, Dean sidled over to him. "Hey there, Sammy," he said calmly, not wanting to frighten him any further then he already appeared.
"I-I can't make it stop Dean . . . can't make it go away. It's in my head and I can't make it go away."
Whatever Dean thought to expect, it wasn't this. He dropped to his knees, beside his brother. "Can't make what go away, Sammy?"
"It's a noise — it's — it's a noise in my head and I can't make it go away." Sam's face suddenly contorted in pain. His head shot back, slamming into the tree forcefully. "Oh God, Dean! Make it stop! Please!" He was about smash his head into the tree again, but Dean catapulted forward, wrapped his arm around Sam's neck and cradled him to his chest.
"It's okay Sammy. Let's just get you back to the Impala and then we'll figure this out."
"I can't, Dean. I'm stuck." It was said with such a desperate childlike voice Dean's heart caught in his throat.
"What do you mean?"
"The tree, Dean. I'm stuck to the tree," Sam moaned as he clutched his head. His fingers curled tightly around his hair.
Dean pulled away from him, lifted his flashlight and pointed it directly at Sam. He looked like a human shishkibob, with the spear like limb sticking out of his chest just below his right shoulder. Blood and flesh clung sickeningly to the jagged end of the branch. More blood seeped from beneath Sam's wound, soaking his T-shirt.
Dean swept the flashlight upward and saw slashing gouge marks on Sam's eyelids and cheeks, blood covering his tear streaked face. It took all the strength, Dean possessed not to crumble. His stomach churned violently. Eyes burning with unspent tears, Dean tore his sight away from his brother and lowered his head, fearing if Sammy saw the look of horror on his face, he'd completely lose it.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Dean said, realizing how high-pitched and strained his own voice sounded.
"What?" Sammy mumbled, his head lulled to the side, with eyes still closed tightly against the pain.
"Easy there, Tiger, stay with me."
"Huh?" Sam's eyelids fluttered open. "Dean?"
"Yeah, right here, Sammy."
"Dean."
Dean didn't think he could bear hearing the sound of utter desolation, in his little brother's voice. It tore at his insides to see him so close to losing it completely."What Sammy?"
"Can you turn on your flashlight, dude? It's so dark."
Dean's head shot up and followed the shaft of light that fell across Sam's face, leaving half of it in shadow. He raised the flashlight and shined it in his brother's face. Eyes, black and unseeing gazed back at him. Oh Christ! What did that thing do to you?
He let out the pent breath, he didn't even know he was holding. How could he tell his brother he was blind? The simple answer was he couldn't.
"Broke my flashlight back there on the trail." He gestured back in the direction he'd just come from then mentally kicked himself for doing such a stupid thing. "Tripped over something and it fell and broke." The lie slipped effortlessly from his tongue. Better to not tell him right now. He reassured himself. Not when he is already a wreck.
Not wanting Sammy to be all alone in the dark, Dean flipped off the flashlight, casting the forest into almost complete darkness. The only light now coming from Sammy's flashlight about ten feet away. He knew it was stupid. It wasn't like he couldn't turn it back on at any given moment, but he'd felt so damn helpless he didn't know what else to do.
Suddenly, Sam's body arched forward, writhing against the wooden spear, struggling in vain desperation to free himself. He cried out in agony as more blood spilled from his chest. Finally he gave up. His body slumped against the tree. "Oh God, Dean! My head is splitting in two!" His fingers gripped and tightened around his hair, palms digging into his eyes. "I can't take it . . . it's so damn loud . . . and I can't think . . . can't think. Why won't it go away?"
"I don't know, Sammy," he said with a shake of his head. "But I swear to God, I'll find a way to fix this or I'll die trying."
Dean knew what he needed to do first. He had to break the limb holding Sam pinned to the tree. Experience told Dean he couldn't pull Sam free without risking even greater, and potentially fatal, injury. But breaking the limb was easier said then done, knowing the force it'd take to snap the damn thing, would definitely cause his brother more pain.
"Sammy. I have to free you." He hesitated, not liking the idea one bit, but then press forward, "An' I ain't gonna lie to you, man, it's gonna hurt like a Sonuvabitch."
"Just do it, Dean."
Slowly, Dean rose, hating himself for what he was about to do. "You gotta lean forward for me and hold tightly to that limb." Flipping on his flashlight, Dean took a look at the narrow space between Sam and the tree, and swore under his breath. "Dude, you have to promise me you wouldn't let go of that damn thing or it will rip through your chest."
"Yeah, Dean. I won't let go," came a tired sounding reply. "Promise me something."
"Sure, Sammy."
"No chick-flick moments when I start balling like a baby, okay?"
A laugh caught in Dean's throat. "Gotcha. Now on the count of three. One . . . two . . . three!" Before he changed his mind, he raised his foot and slammed it down hard against the limb. He heard a loud, sickening crack. For a moment he wasn't sure if it was the branch or bones he'd heard snapping. The sound of it almost being drowned by Sam screams.
"Sam!" He dropped to his knees and caught his brother just as he lurched forward unconscious. Carefully, Dean lifted and repositioned his brother so he was lying on his left side, his head resting against Dean's shoulder.
"I gotcha Sammy," he whispered, pushing stray locks of his brother's unruly, long brown hair out of his face. His skin felt feverish and damp beneath Dean's hand."You just rest a bit. I won't let anything hurt you again."
His fingers lightly brushed against Sam's ear. Instantly, he pulled them back feeling something sticky and warm. Blood. His ear drums must have burst, or at least that is what he'd hoped not wanting to imagine what else might cause his brother's ears to bleed. What kind of noise was going on inside his head that was strong enough to cause his ear drums to burst?
"Come on, Sammy. I gotta get you outta here and to a hospital." Dean gently shook him. Sam moaned softly but refused to wake up."It's okay, Sammy, I'll carry ya outta here, if I have to."
Dean bit at his lower lip, his eyes narrowing as he tried to think how far it was to the Impala. The thick fog had caused him to backtrack several times, so in all honesty, he couldn't be certain how long it would take to find his way back.
Dean scratched the back of his head, trying to figure out the best way to carry Sam without injuring him further. Once determined, Dean stood and hitched his fingers into Sam's belt loop, and cautiously pulled him to his feet. Sam swayed precariously, his knees buckling as Dean leaned him against a tree.
"I gotcha, Sammy," Dean said, patting his brother on the shoulder. Dean took a deep breath, bent down and hoisted Sam over his shoulders, careful not move Sam's injured chest more than he had to. Readjusting Sam's lanky frame over his now tautly strained muscles, Dean began the slow and arduous trek back to the Impala.
The uneven ground, muddy and slick from the previous rainfall, caused Dean to stumble twice, before he'd finally left the copse of trees where he'd found his brother. Dean never looked
back . . . never noticed two sets of eyes watching his labored movements. One pair, sorrowful and full of regret. The other, triumphant.
After walking in the dense fog for nearly a half an hour, the wind pushing hard against his back, the whole way, Dean paused to shift Sam's weight over his aching shoulders. Dean heard the sound of the spirit's voice humming once more. He couldn't tell exactly where the sound of her voice was coming from or if he'd been going in circles. But as she sang the mist rolled back away from the trail and he saw a beacon of pale golden light shining off in the distance.
Dean peered at the light, wondering if it were some sort of trick or if he was close to the road. Deciding to risk it, he headed toward the light. The thick forest ended abruptly, the muddy trail he'd traveled turning to loose gravel beneath his feet. Dean stopped short and stared incredulously at his car. The headlights were on.
"Dean," came a softly whispered voice from behind him.
Dean swung around and saw a beautiful woman standing at the edge of the woods. Her long chestnut tresses blew wildly about her face in the breeze. She brushed away the strands while she gazed at him. Their eyes locked and then in an instant, she was at his side. She leaned in and whispered in his ear. "I will be here when you return . . . I will watch over him till then." She stepped back away from Dean and disappeared into the mist.