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The Walking Dead

Chapter 4

The morning was a grey and overcast continuation of the previous day and Sam could smell the impeding rain although it had yet to start. Chilled fingers continued to push at the damp earth, methodically twitching and moving slightly as they burrowed towards his phone. The pounding in his head had reduced to a dull throb that made it easier for him to think and to manage the pain that burned through his lower body. Sam was sure that at least one leg was broken and really hoped it was only one, but jammed the way he was under a huge boulder and with the weight of dirt pinning him there, he didn't know.

He really had no idea what he would do if both legs were broken.

Stopping for a few minutes to rest as his fingers started to cramp, Sam closed his eyes and breathed deeply, the smell of vomit almost making him gag. His stomach growled and he needed to pee.

Licking his lips tiredly, Sam listened as a crow cawed nearby and the trees rustled quietly. It was really very tranquil.

Opening his eyes again, he forced his fingers to continue digging. The chances of being found were better now that it was daylight but Sam still wasn't holding out much hope for it.

More my luck, there'd be an earthquake to dump the rest of the woods on me…

The young patrolman had noticed the car the prior night when he first started his shift. Black and sleek, it caught his eye for more reasons than it just being parked on the side of the road. He was surprised to see it still there in the morning as he did his final round before getting off for the day.

Pulling up behind it, the man ran the plates and waited to see if it had been stolen. That would make perfect sense. Be a nice car to take for a joyride.

The car came back as being owned by Robert Singer from Sioux Falls, South Dakota, a couple of hours from there. It hadn't been reported stolen and had no outstanding tickets or anything else to raise a flag. It was just there.

Getting out of his cruiser, the officer walked around the Dodge Charger, appreciating the sleek lines and obvious care the owner took of the vehicle.

"What'cha doing out here, all by yourself?" he asked as he peered in through the windows, a bit surprised by how tidy the interior was. There wasn't even a wrapper anywhere on the floor. Definitely wasn't owned by anyone with kids, he decided. "Probably ran out of gas." He stood next to the driver's door and looked around at the woods on both sides of the roads. "Yeah, that had to be it." There was no other reason to explain why it was here.

Not from the area, he wasn't aware of the old trail and after a few minutes, he got back in his own vehicle and pulled away. If the car was still here when he started his next shift, he'd have it towed.

It was lunchtime when Dean finally got out of bed. It was unusual for him to sleep so late but it was Saturday and he didn't have anything pressing that he needed to do. Lisa and Ben had left earlier for soccer practice. They'd asked Dean to go with them but he feigned a headache and promised to meet up with them after lunch. In reality he was hoping his brother would call.

He wasn't worried. He wasn't. But the longer it went on without a return call, the more uneasy he became. He wasn't used to being ignored by Sam. Not when they both knew Dean knew Sam was alive.

His uneasiness turned bitter ten minutes later when he got out of the shower and there were no missed calls on his phone.

"Fine," he snorted as he pulled a t-shirt on over his still wet chest. "Whatever." Unable to leave things like this, and because he wanted Sam to know just how pissed off he was over this, Dean grabbed the phone and tried his brother again.

Like the first time, it went to voicemail.

"You know, you could at least have the decency to call me back. I know me and my normal life are boring next to the Campbells and all the exciting shit you got going on, but I thought Dad, scratch that, that I taught you better manners than that… So you know what, Sam, screw you. Don't bother calling back." Feeling somewhat vindicated, Dean ended the call and dropped the cell on the dresser.

If that didn't make his brother call him. Nothing would.

Sam could hear his cell phone ringing. His heart pounded hard as his fingers scrabbled at the earth, desperate to answer but there was still too much packed dirt and debris between his hand and the phone. After a few rings, it went silent.

"Oh G-God," he ground out, his eyes prickling at the hope that someone was looking for him; that someone might miss him. "Help me…"

Just like you helped me? Unbidden, Adam's voice lay on him like smoke in his lungs. Incorporeal and pungent, it made it harder to breathe and chilled Sam deeper than bone.

"No," he choked out, not here, not now, "please… no…"

Adam haunted Sam.

Dean hadn't asked Sam about the kid and for that Sam was glad. Not sure he could keep his game face on if his brother did but as Sam continued to claw away at the ground, he found himself thinking about Adam.

There had been a brief moment after they fell when Michael fled his vessel and Adam had looked at Sam. Had really seen Sam and knew exactly what had happened. What Sam had done to them.

"You bastard," Adam started to scream. "You selfish bastard!"

And then Adam went silent, his vocal chords ripped from his throat and held in Sam's hand. A gift, Lucifer's voice had stroked at his mind as Adam's body writhed on the floor; his throat gaping and bloody.

"Now, now, little boy, you must be nicer to Sammy than that," Lucifer's voice purred from Sam's mouth; Sam tried to bite off his own tongue.

And after that, things had gotten really bad.

Blinking back the perspiration that stung at his eyes, Sam stopped digging.

Maybe he deserved this.

Maybe it would be better if he just let it happen.

Maybe it wasn't worth fighting anymore.

He was just so tired.

Tired of trying to keep hell from swallowing him whole.

Tired of pretending everything was okay when he was like a machine seconds from overload.

Tired of keeping his distance when all he wanted was to be an important part of Dean's life again.

Tired of –

Tired of living.

Sam kept trying to convince himself that he was okay. That he enjoyed the hunt, the car, the freedom he had of making up his own rules and living the way he wanted to. That giving up his place in Dean's life didn't hurt. But then things would start to press down on him again and he'd be right back in a cage; only this time, a cage of his own making.

The devil wasn't riding him this time but in the end, it didn't matter. The memories rode him just as hard.

Self-pity much?

Dean's voice was back in his head.

'Cause I got to tell ya, Sammy, I'll kick your ass if you do this.

"D-do what?" Sam whispered. "Die?"

Give up, you a-hole. I don't care if you die, as long as you go down fighting.

That was when Sam stopped listening to the voice in his head.

It was getting cold again anyway.

And then the phone started to ring again.

Dean was cold and his bones ached.

Lisa laughed and told him he was getting old when he complained to her over supper.

He didn't think it was funny. His legs in particular kept cramping horribly and he wondered if karma was getting him back for lying to Lisa and Ben earlier since he now had a bitch of a headache too.

Sam still hadn't called but Dean was refusing to let it bother him. Instead he focused on the two people who did want to spend time with him.

And by the time he finally went to bed and Lisa snuggled against him, working hard to warm him up, Dean had completely forgotten he was waiting for his brother to call and fell asleep.

The patrolman frowned as he saw the car was still there parked on the side on the road when he stared his next shift.

Calling it in, he waited until the tow truck showed up to tow it away.

"Strange," he said to the driver as he hooked up the black car. "This kinda car? You'd think someone would have reported it missing by now."

"Yeah," the tow truck guy agreed. "You'd think."

Something about this niggled at the back of the officer's neck. Some instinct that told him something wasn't right.

Going back to his car, he radioed in to dispatch and asked for the phone number of the registered owner, knowing he wouldn't feel better until he let the guy know his car had been found.

Not that the guy had bothered to report it missing in the first place. But still, Officer Green was nothing if not thorough.

"Singer Salvage. Somebody better be dying… It's after midnight."

"Can I speak to a Mr. Robert Singer, please?'

A pause.

"This is him."

"Mr. Singer, my name is Officer Green with the South Dakota highway patrol and I just wanted to let you know that your car has been found…"

TBC