The Plantation House.

Summary. . . . . . . . . Missing teens, an old slave plantation, what could possibly go wrong? Dean's about to find out as the brother's take on a hunt he was reluctant to pursue. Hurt Sam and Dean.

Disclaimer. . . . . . . . Still only playing in Kripkies toy box.

A.N. . . . . . . . . Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, added to favs, or alerts. I'd just like to apologize for the lack of responses, real life has been harsh this week and I've found little or no time to even switch on my computer. Hopefully things will begin to settle down now though and I will be able to get back to thanking you all personally. Peanut x

Sam lay on the grass in the quad outside his dorm rooms, Jess' fingers running through his hair, relaxing him into a blissful slumber once again. He turned his body, curling himself more into hers as all thoughts and feelings began to ebb away and he surrendered to the darkness that was constantly pulling him; something though refused to let him fall into the blackness, a feeling tickling the back of his mind, a feeling that this wasn't right. He battled within himself, forcing his way through the cobwebs that crowded his mind, trying desperately to reach the one that irritated him, a part of him wishing he could just scratch it away and stay here where everything was perfect, the rest of him needing to know just what this feeling was. As he fought closer to the itch, it teased and danced further away bringing his mind back from the dark brink and more into awareness. Thoughts became clearer, feelings more stronger, pains more agonizing. He struggled to return to Jess and the place where he felt nothing, but still that itch remained growing and teasing all the more, snippets began to leak there way out, snippets of an abandoned house, of darkness, of pain, of Dean.

"Dean." Sam whispered out, the one word breaking a path through all the fog and allowing him to finally see reality. He groaned softly, as the agonizing pain he was feeling let itself be known once again, his body curling into a small ball in an attempt to escape from the spikes that lanced throughout his frame, groaning again as it reignited the fiery spasms. He called out again for his brother, the sound little more than a whisper, needing his comfort and reassurances but all he received in return was a silence so thick it deafened him. Remembrance hit hard then, his mind recalling speaking earlier with Dean, yet unable to hear his brother's voice talking back; even when Dean had shouted, Sam able to tell from his brothers movements, all he had heard was his own heart thudding in his ears. Panic began to take hold of him, his breathing coming too fast, his vision blurring as his body began to once again shut down, but that every present itch was once again refusing to allow him to give in; something was wrong, something was wrong with Dean.

For the first time since awakening he opened his eyes, groaning yet again as even that small achievement caused pain, a drum solo banging away in his head, and a tsunami erupting in his stomach, his eyes automatically clenching back closed in an effort to ease his discomfort, but the need to see Dean, to gain the comfort even one glance of his brother would bring was stronger, biting back his distress he once again peeled open unwilling lids, the panic that had been ever present since his awakening harshly returning when for a moment he thought his sight, along with his hearing, had been damaged, his beaten mind taking a few minutes to remember he was in the dark. As he waited for his eyes to adjust he wet his mouth with what little moisture he could muster in an attempt to shout out louder his brother's name, the word sticking on the tip of his tongue as brotherly intuition told him to stop. Moving slowly, not wanting to draw attention to the fact he was awake, or to exacerbate his already agonizing injuries, he turned back towards where he thought he remembered Dean being, all his pain, his fears and his distress abating as he took in the sight before him, to be replaced by infuriating anger; anger at seeing the abuse his sibling was receiving.

Forcing his body to move, he stood on legs that suddenly seemed stronger and began to inch his way forward, his movements cumbersome and slow due to the shackles, no plan in mind other then to save Dean. The closer he got the more he remembered the reason why they were here, the missing teens, the spirit, and the old plantation house. Grabbing an old rusted iron scythe, most of it's handle long since rotted away, he edged even closer, seeing recognition glow in his brothers eyes as he towered behind the spirit. Using all the strength he had left he brought the blade down in a vicious curve, that would have hacked deeply into flesh if the man would have had any, instead dissipating the spirit instantly. The momentum was too much though for Sam's already weakened body, and the lack of cohesive form to stop the wild swing, caused him to lose his balance, his battered body striking the solid metal of Dean's cage harshly, causing wounds to reignite in fiery spasms. As his head cracked viciously against the unforgiving bars, his knees gave way and he crashed heavily to the floor, a scream of agony ripping it's way from his mouth.

Dean forced himself to fight against the blackness that was threatening to drag him under as he watched his sibling grow bigger behind the spirit. He tried his best to keep the overseer's focus on himself as he watched Sam raise a scythe and aimed it for the man's back; pride swelling inside of him for the feat his brother had achieved. He breathed a sigh of relief as the ghost dissipated and the burning agony he was succumbing to eased, allowing his body some respite and his mind to fight harder to remain awake knowing the wouldn't have much time. He started to move closer towards the bars, groaning as his wounds protested, his actions increasing in speed as a long thud echoed throughout the otherwise silent room, his eyes glancing up in time to witness Sam's ungainly slump to the ground. Forgetting all else he rushed to the bars, thankful that he could reach his sibling through his metal confine, thankful also that Sam was still awake. Hating himself for what he was about to do, he reached through the bars and began to slap at Sam's cheek, shouting his name at the same time, forgetting for a moment that Sam could not hear him, only remembering as Sam's eyes finally rested on his own, and his voice shouted out his name, his senses overcompensating for his loss of hearing.

"DEAN? YOU OKAY?"

Knowing that Sam couldn't hear him, Dean resorted to hand signals, his thumb and index finger joining in a sign to say he was. He panicked as he watched Sam begin to give in to exhaustion safe in the knowledge that he was okay, his hand reaching back to once again pat at Sam's cheek, frantically trying to get Sam to understand once his eyes were once more focused upon himself. Pointing over to the bench he signaled for his brother to retrieve their weapons, knowing that the shotgun was at least loaded with rock salt, and that the blast would cause more damage to the spirit, and that the time between reappearances would increase. He felt guilty as he watched Sam finally understand his actions, watched as his brother's face fell as he poured over the enormity of the task being asked of him; guilty that he was the one asking, but this was the only way. His heart broke as Sam turned tearful eyes his way and whispered.

"I can't do this Dean. I'm so sorry I can't do this."

Knowing his brother couldn't hear him, Dean spoke anyway hoping that the urgency in his features would spur Sam on. "You have to Sam! It's the only way!" He watched as Sam looked again at what was being asked of his broken body, watched as his brother began to slowly rise, watched as a mist began to form from the breaths Sam was pushing out. He tried to shout out a warning, tried to reach through the bars, but it wasn't enough and he could only watch as the overseer's form coalesced before his distracted brother. He cried out again as the spirits hands reached for Sam's neck, fury rising in him at the thought of Sam once again getting hurt, his eyes turning away from the scene as he searched for anything that could help his brother, turning back as he heard a swish ring through the air, pride swelling once more as he witnessed his ailing brother once more banish the spirit. The effort though was too much for his brother, his body finally giving in to blood loss, pain and fatigue crashing back to the ground. Dean reached again through the bars, but try as he might nothing he did would rouse his sibling.

Defeat resonated from everyone of his pores, his shoulders slumping, his aches intensifying, as he thought they had failed once more, his mind already torturing him with images of what would be done to Sam in punishment for his actions. He slumped to the floor and began to give up, his body shutting down, his eyes rising to take one last look at his brother's prone form, a smile forming on his lips as he spotted something the spirit had obviously missed. Reaching as far as he could through the metal prison, he tried desperately to hook a finger into the back pocket of his brother's jeans, crying out in frustration when his first few attempts failed. Stretching even further, ignoring the piercing ache that resonated throughout his shoulder, he tried to gain just a few more inches, a choked cry leaving his lips as he finally succeeded. Using all his strength he began to pull at the packet his brother always kept handy, his actions intensifying as the seconds passed, his fingers clumsy as he tried to hurry and beat the return of the spirit. He stopped as he felt the air in the room begin to chill, his breaths becoming plumes as they left his body, his hand reaching instead for the scythe Sam had dropped behind him as he fell, dragging it closer to the cage. As the overseer returned once more, Dean feigned unconsciousness, his hand dropping the scythe, yet still keeping it within reach, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Angered by Sam, the spirit paid little to no attention to Dean as he strode over to the youngest Winchester, giving Dean the freedom he needed. As the spirit bent over Sam, Dean struck quickly dropping the iron blade even before the man had disappeared, and turning his actions back onto getting Sam's lock picks from his pocket. He crawled over to his cages door, after he finally succeeded and after taking a few seconds to calm his nerves, began working on the lock and his and Sam's freedom.

To be continued. . . . . . . . . .

A.N. . . . . . . . . . I hope that you all enjoyed chapter 4, will be back soon with more, catch you later, Peanut x