CHAPTER SIX

Though run down and thick with mouse droppings, the abandoned house was dry and warm, and set far enough back from the road that Dean was sure no one would be able to see the light of their lantern. More important, there was a shed in back of the house big enough for the Impala, so that even if someone did see their light, and that someone was a cop, the Impala wouldn't be sitting out there like a red flag.

Settled in for the night, but unable to sleep, Dean pulled out a new trac phone and dialed Bobby's number.

Bobby picked up on the first ring. "Who the hell is it?" he asked harshly.

"It's me, Bobby," Dean answered, surprised. "What's wrong?"

"Dean! Thank Christ!" Bobby heaved a sigh of relief. "I was afraid you two were dead."

"Why? We called you after we got out of Ankeny – "

"That was hours ago!'

"Bobby – "

"Dean – sorry. Damn it! It's – those goddamned monsters went to the police station in Ankeny after you left and killed everyone there!"

"What?"

"Every last damned one of 'em," Bobby repeated in a hollow tone. "Dead and torn to pieces. Organs missing from most of 'em." He let out a deep shuddering sigh. "They're calling you two boys cannibals on the news, Dean."

Legs suddenly weak, Dean leaned against the wall. "Jesus, Bobby."

"You think it was hot before, it's boilin' now! You two in a safe place?"

"Safe as we can be, considering." Dean glanced over at Sam, asleep on a ratty mattress in a corner of the room. He shook his head, considering the implications of their fucked-up situation. "Man, we are so freaking screwed."

"Can you get to me?"

"Not in the Impala," Dean said reluctantly. "We go out on the road in her, cops or monsters will smear us all over the road."

"I'm gonna come get you – "

There was a soft sound from the corner of the room and Dean saw that Sam was stirring restlessly. "Hold on, Bobby."

As Dean knelt beside him, Sam moaned. "No. Don't." His face held a fine sheen of sweat; his hands clutched the blanket to his chest.

"Sam?" Dean spoke gently, careful not to touch him. "Sam, wake up."

Sam shuddered, his face twisting in a rictus of agony. "Don't," he choked.

Knowing that whatever his brother was experiencing in his dreams could only get worse, Dean discarded gentle, snapping sharply, "Sam! Wake up!"

Sam jerked awake and scrambled back from him, pressing against the wall. Eyes wide and frightened, he stared around the room, clearly still locked within his dream.

"Sam!" Dean moved into his brother's line of vision. "Sam, it's okay. You're with me."

"Dean?" Panting, Sam dug hard into the still raw wound on the palm of his hand, grounding himself in the pain. After a moment, he looked blearily around the room, trying to orient himself.

Dean ran a tired hand over his face. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded jerkily. "M'okay. Time to leave?"

Dean shook his head and told Sam about what had happened in Ankeny. Sam stared at him in stunned silence.

Dean finally raised the phone back to his ear, knowing the older man would have heard what was happening. "Sorry, Bobby."

Bobby ignored the apology. "I'm coming to get you. We'll stash the Impala until things cool down a little."

Dean hated the idea, but knew it was the smart move. After giving Bobby directions on how to get there, he said a hasty good-bye and looked at his brother, who was staring into space.

"This just keeps getting worse and worse," Sam said dully. "Every time we think we've hit rock bottom – " his eyes widened, focusing on something in mid-air, and he dug into his hand again, keeping the pressure up until the figment slithered away.

"Sam?" Dean put his hand on his brother's arm, waited until Sam's gaze focused on him again. "You've got me, Sammy. I've got you," he said forcefully. "And we've both got Bobby. We'll be fine."

Sam nodded, his gaze switching to Lucifer, who was standing behind Dean, shaking his head sadly.

Dean's grip tightened painfully on Sam's arm. "Are you with me?"

Sam nodded tentatively.

Dean's voice was more than a little desperate. "Come on, man! Are you with me?"

Sam drew in a steadying breath. Ignoring the capering of Satan in the background, he said firmly, "I'm with you, Dean. To the end."