Disclaimer: Kripke owns all things Supernatural.

Chapter Four

"This witch seems to strike around noon. That's when Giles Corey died. Those people will be here tomorrow afternoon. We don't need to wait until dark." Sam convinced his brother that they had to find the witch's grave before others died.

Dean had wanted to protest. One more day wouldn't hurt. Both men were still in pain and a violent attack by another ghost was not on his agenda. But they had a job to do and, like always, they would do it. Save lives. Destroy evil. Dean pulled two shovels out of the trunk while Sam pulled out the duffle carrying the shotgun, salt, and lighter fluid. "I've got the survey of this place and it said the graveyard is in the southeast corner." Dean turned around to orient himself. "That way," he pointed and they moved out.

They criss-crossed the corner area peering at the ground until Sam stubbed his toe on a tombstone. Looking up, he realized they were in a clearing. Tall trees surrounded them. "Here's one, Dean," he called out. Pulling away the weeds and dirt, Sam read the inscription. "Not her." They spread out. The ninth stone he checked was it. Sam called Dean over. They both sunk their shovels into the ground at the same time. "When do you think she'll realize what we're doing?" he asked his brother. He never got an answer. Just as he spoke, all hell broke loose.

"You had to ask, Sammy, didn't ya," Dean snarked as he ducked. A wind had risen from nowhere. Dead leaves spiraled up from the ground and engulfed the two men so much that it was hard to see anything. Branches and twigs were torn off the trees and the ground and were flung at them. "Dig." Dean yelled and spat out a mouthful of leaves. They would leave here with bruises and gashes on top of their old injuries.

Both Winchesters dug furiously. Dean ignored the pain in his shoulder. They did not see the spirit but she was there trying to stop them. They hoped Redeemed would not be able to get enough power to strike at them any more than she'd already had. It was only day four of the cycle. Their shovels struck wood at the same time. Dean knelt down to scrape off the dirt while Sam lurched out to collect the salt and the lighter fluid which he handed to Dean.

Standing on the edge of the grave, shotgun ready, Sam kept looking around him. Larger limbs from the trees flew past him and he now bore painful cuts from flying debris. He heard Dean muttering to himself below him. "Hurry up!" She's getting . . ." Sam was blinded by a flare of white before fire seemed to engulf him. Oblivion was welcomed.

ooooOOOOoooo

Dean worked feverishly to uncover the coffin. Prying the rotted wood apart, her skeleton stared up at him. Salt soon covered the bones followed by gushing lighter fluid. He heard Sam's voice telling him to hurry just before he was deafened by a thunderous crash. His ears ringing, Dean called out for Sam but couldn't even hear his own voice. He lit the match before scrambling out of the grave. Rolling over, he saw Sam lying on the ground. Not moving.

Scrambling over to him, he gave him a shake and crouched over his brother and checked for signs of life. Nothing. No breath. No heartbeat. Dean felt the ground drop from under him. A litany of "no's" came out of his mouth as he ran his hands over his brother's body to try and find the injury that had struck him down. Dean noticed Sam's shirt had a burn mark right on the collarbone. Ozone clogged Dean's nostrils. "No, Sammy! Come on!" Dean pleaded. "Breathe dammit!" Dean tilted his brother's head back and began CPR. Thoughts ran through his head. The others had been scorched to a crisp. How had Sam escaped? How could he call 911?

Pausing briefly between compressions, Dean fumbled for his phone and punched the number. Giving the information as quickly as he could, Dean dropped the phone to the ground and continued breathing for Sam – breathing for them both. Running through his mind was all the words he'd wanted to say to Sam. He'd never admitted to Sam just how much he meant to him. Never admitted how much he needed him. Never admitted how much he loved him. He needed more time with Sam.

Time passed unnoticed before Dean felt himself pushed aside. He struggled to get back to Sam but arms held him in place. The medic's uniform finally registered as he asked, "Sir. What happened?"

"I think Sam was struck by lightning. He's got…" Dean's voice gave a hitch. "He's got this burned place on his shoulder." He half-listened as the medic called in the report over the radio while his partner stuck an IV line into Sam. His brother didn't move. Monitor lines were attached and Sam was lifted onto a gurney. Dean scrambled to his feet to follow. His brother didn't move. He tried to climb into the ambulance and almost punched the medic when he was denied. "I need to be with Sam. He's my family." He was pleading. Sam was his life. His responsibility. His baby brother. No one was going to take Sam from him.

"Sir. Follow us in. I need to be able to move around inside to help him and you'll be in the way. I can't help your brother if you're in the way." The medic didn't realize it but he'd said about the only thing that convinced Dean to stand away from the ambulance and let the door close on his brother.

Dean reached the Impala before they had backed the ambulance around and tore after it. His heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest. He never noticed when they reached the city limits or pulled in front of the hospital. Dean parked off to one side and raced after his brother but was stopped by the emergency room doors. He could only watch as Sam was whisked away. His brother didn't move.

TBC

A/N: Aren't you glad this is being posted all at once? No cliffhangers. Merry Christmas!