Chapter 7

Dean stumbled over the chaos of stone in his way, coughing and falling to his knees. The air was thick with the chalk ground out by the tower's destruction. He crawled forward, and frantically began to claw away the debris. The bell tower was a ruin, only half-walls remained. The iron yoke that once held the bell, it's wheel still attached, was down and protruding from the rubble. The rope was a tangle between the stones. Dean called out to Sam as he worked, stopping to listen breathlessly for any response. Nothing reached his ringing ears.

Checking to see that Elieis was unscathed, Javier shook the cobwebs from his brain and joined him. He was sure that the young man was crushed somewhere under the pile of stones and timbers. The two dragged and rolled the stones and splintered beams away, clawing their hands bloody until at last, a bit of brightly coloured cloth, chalked with dust, was revealed. Dean's hands found tanned skin, and he brushed until he reached Sam's wrist. He pressed trembling fingers against it, relieved beyond words to find a pulse.

"Is he...? Javier asked.

"Alive-!" Dean answered. He pulled more rubble away, revealing a section of wooden steps. They were jammed at an angle, wedged against the remainder of the wall. Sam's head and shoulders were covered by them, and by sheer luck they had protected him from the falling stones. Dean and Javier pulled hard until the section came free, and they lifted it and shoved it aside.

"Sam!" Dean cried, wiping his brothers face free of grit. "C'mon, Sammy, it's me! Sam!"

Javier worked at freeing the rest of him, as Dean tried feverishly to get a response. Finally he was rewarded with a groan. Dean nearly cried when he heard it.

"I'm here, Sam! We're getting you out of here !"

Sam turned his head and squinted at his brother. "Dean…"

"Where are you hurt? Can you tell me?" Dean didn't dare move him.

"uh.. I…I dunno." He didn't finish, he gasped, grasping Dean's wrist as Javier began to tug at the bell wheel.

"Stop!" Dean barked, halting Javier. He couldn't see the problem yet, but clearly the activity hurt Sam. The iron bell was still half covered, the yoke was lying across Sam's calf, the large wheel keeping the full weight of the bell from crushing his leg. When Javier moved it, the yoke pressed down harder against the pinned limb. Sam gripped his brother's arm hard, shuddering with the pain. Javier carefully removed the remaining debris so that they could see what they were dealing with. The iron frame dug into the back of Sam's leg. In the poor light, Dean could see dark blood staining the grey dust on his skin. He was sure too, that the ankle below the yoke was out of line with the rest of his leg; it was surely broken.

Sam's face was screwed tight in agony. He swore, his hold on Dean's wrist tightening. "Don't! Don't move it!" he panted.

"Ok, Sam, it can sit for a minute but we have to lift it off or you're stuck here. Are you hurt anywhere else—your back, or neck?"

Sam nodded slightly, his hand slipping away from Dean's arm now. He was weakening, the black mist in the periphery of his vision creeping in.

"Where, Sammy? Tell me!"

-everywhere—he thought. The effort to speak was too costly, and Sam slipped into unconsciousness.

The doors that led from the tower into the church had begun to rattle again. It seemed San Mateo wasn't finished. He was still enraged at the affront, his fury gaining strength again. Dean glanced fearfully at Javier. "We've gotta move!"

"That bell must weigh at least five hundred!" Javier said grimly. "We can lift it better with Eli..." He got up and returned to his brother, who was sitting up where he'd left him, bewildered. .

"Get up!" Javier said harshly. "We need you to help, your precious Saint dropped his bell on one of them!"

Eli got to his feet, clutching his brother's shoulder to steady himself. He could see the flaring light of the votives through the windows, forming hideous, dancing shadows on the ground. "No, Javier—I have to go in, I must quiet the spirit. God will-"

Javier slapped him hard. "Screw your ghost, and your god! You can't help him now, and you have a living man to save!"

Elieis was shocked into clarity, he nodded. -Priorities—yes-

Dean spoke to Sam, warning him that they were going to move it, hoping Sam still couldn't hear. The trio each took hold of a part. Dean, standing over Sam, had the top of the yoke, Javier and Elieis each gripped an edge of the bell. The doors were flying open and closed, pounding rabidly against the pile of rock that blocked them. They caught glimpses of the inside, a howling whirlwind of church goods pelting the walls. The joinery of the woodwork was beginning to separate. Any moment now, the doors could give way and they'd be facing the mayhem that reigned behind them. Dean shouted over the rising noise, "On three—"

On the third count they hoisted the bell straight up, a few hard-won inches, each man straining under the heavy weight. They stepped away clumsily, and dropped it, and Dean scrambled back to Sam's side. Sam was stirring, moaning now. Dean grabbed the fabric of his shirt and pulled him free, stumbling. Javier pushed him aside gently, grabbed Sam under his arms and dragged him back to the car as Eli followed. Once at the car's side and safely out of the angry saint's reach, Elieis brought the med kit from where it had been left on the hood. They splinted and bound Sam's injury as he groaned and cursed weakly, but he nodded in agreement when Javier asked if they could move him into the back of the car. They got him in, preparing to speed to the local hospital. Sam raised his head, wincing, "Where's Dean-?"

"Right here." Javier assured him.

While Elieis tended to Sam, Dean had been leaning heavily against the Impala's back fender. The pain he'd ignored while they'd worked to free his brother claimed all his attention now. He was breathing fast, as a sickening ache intensified. His vision swam. Alarmed, Javier spoke to him. He looked up, dazed, not hearing the words. He never heard Javier's shout to Eli. He slipped soundlessly to his knees, swaying for a moment, before falling forward. Javier leapt to catch him before he hit the gravel.

Sam stayed alert for the rough ride to the hospital. He would have loved to be unaware, but his concern for his fallen brother would never allow it. Thankfully it wasn't too far, although at first glance the facility resembled anything but a place of healing, and no one would have blamed them for passing on it in favour of continuing to the city. But Sam was bleeding and in considerable pain, and they had no idea yet what ailed his brother. Dean hadn't stirred since Javier picked him up from where he'd collapsed. Javier himself was nursing several badly bruised places, harsh reminders of their rocky evening. Elieis drove ahead of them since he alone knew the way.

Javier parked the Impala, scattering several stray cats. "Stay there, Sam. I'll get somebody."

"Yeah." Sam ground out. Alone with Dean, he pushed himself up to where he could reach him. "Dean…?" He shook him gently. When he got no response, he pulled himself up further, running his good hand through his brother's sticky hair. He felt a large raised bump, and there was no question he would have a concussion. He prayed it wasn't a fracture. Dean did stir now, with a groan of protest. Javier returned with help, and the brothers were taken from the car to be assessed. They were nearly refused treatment without prepayment, but Eli was able to dissuade them, and his position as the parish priest was, for the first time that evening, a benefit rather than a curse.

They were separated for a long time. Sam was stitched and had his broken fibula set and a cast applied. His mangled fingers were splinted. It was agreed all around that it was a miracle he hadn't gotten his head bashed in. He asked anxiously about Dean.

Satisfied that Sam would mend, Javier went out to find out how the elder brother had faired. He found him, sitting wearily on the side of a bed. His head and torso were wound with gauze, and he was arguing uselessly with a doctor who spoke only Spanish. Javier intervened. After hearing the man out, he translated.

"He says you must stay, you have perhaps some cracked ribs, and plus you are concussed. He won't allow you to leave, you need to be observed, for your own good."

Dean raised his head to Javier and growled angrily, "Tell him to bite me! I'm fine and I want to see Sam!"

Javier tried to reason with him. "Sam is patched up now. He has a cast, but he can go home. You need to stay, Dean; just overnight. Your injuries are-"

"Are not gonna kill me, Javier. I can't afford to stay here, and we have work to do. We have to make that church safe before anybody else gets their brains mashed out. You know damn well that the tower collapse will bring people out, and that Saint is still freaking out in the church. How many more times do you want to be hauling people out here?" He stopped and grimaced, catching his breath sharply, as his left side and back reminded him of why he was sitting there. He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. "Look, tell him we're broke. I'm leaving...ask him what we owe." He stood up, gripping the edge of the bed until he was sure he could stay that way. Javier shook his head, but he knew Dean well enough now to realize that when he made up his mind, there was no argument. He spoke rapidly to the doctor, who finally threw up his hands in defeat and stalked out.

"Ok Dean, you win, you stubborn bastard. Are you sure you can make it back to the car? You want some help?"

"Just…let me hang onto your shoulder for a bit, 'til I'm steady. I gotta go find Sam."

Javier supported him and they found where Sam was. Sam was being fitted for crutches, he looked up with concern at his brother's haggard face. "What's the damage, Dean?"

"Couple of ribs. Got a freaking ostrich egg on my skull. Other than that it's all good…what about you?"

"Two broken fingers…and this-" He pointed to the fresh, damp cast. "They stitched me up. Looks like I'll be hopping for six weeks."

"Huh. That sucks." Dean grunted, sitting down carefully with a heavy sigh. "But you were damned lucky. If that piece of stair hadn't landed where it did..."

Lucky was the last thing Sam felt at the moment, but he nodded in agreement.

Javier left them to go in search for Elieis. He found him, in a ward filled with wrinkled old faces, the ancient elderly, abandoned here and awaiting death. He'd passed the room earlier, catching a glimpse of their depressed faces, staring dully at nothing, some weeping with loneliness. He watched his brother make his rounds, speaking gently to each one of them, holding their gnarled and papery old hands as they beamed happily at his comforts. He blessed each one of them, and Javier could see the immensely positive effect it had, and he saw Eli's genuine smile. It was a side he'd never seen of Elieis. He stepped back, and waited until he was finished.

"Elieis," he said quietly. The young man nodded and joined him in the hallway. "Did you get yourself checked over?"

Eli nodded. "Just a few new bruises. How are your friends?"

"Banged up. Sam has a cast now, his brother Dean was hit by the stones, it hurt his ribs. They should stay here but both insist that we leave now."

"Oh. Is this wise?" Elieis felt a piercing guilt; they would be fine now if he hadn't returned to the church.

Javier snorted. "Of course it isn't wise. You go tell them that. They seem to think that your Saint must be appeased tonight, before any more tragedy happens. I tell you, Eli; if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes…."

Eli stared at the floor tiles as they walked. The whole business terrified him…not because they were dealing with any ghost, but because it flew in the face of everything he knew, everything he'd embraced and built his life on. "These brothers...they say they know how to do this, to put San Mateo to rest. You believe this?"

Javier shrugged. "Elieis, I don't know what to believe after tonight. You can pray all you want to fix it, but I know this; they're ready to put their own lives in danger to try and I think that is a telling thing, and we should do what we can to help them."

They met Sam and Dean in the foyer. Eli wanted to cry when he saw them, but he kept a grip on himself. Crying was useless, they needed support and facilitation now. He silently asked for them to be blessed, knowing that the present company would object to him hovering over them, tracing the cross on their foreheads. He hoped God was awake and listening.

Dean asked to travel with Elieis. Eli choked out tearful apologies for half the ride, until Dean barked at him to stop. He told him to get over it, he already had. He wanted to talk to the priest, to explain all he knew of vengeful spirits, and how to release them. Eli listened quietly, absorbing it all. In the end, he decided that perhaps it didn't completely clash with his beliefs. After all, these confused souls were destined to go to heaven, or hell as the case may be, but they were halted in their path by circumstances beyond their control. He felt that San Mateo was probably always in the church, benignly watching over the people, as long as his bones remained in the shrine. He was never able to join his God, because his remains kept him here. And now, something had happened, something that clearly put his soul in torment. He had to ask.

"Dean...I don't understand. I had the bones buried in blessed ground. This is as it should have been…why would he object to this?"

His choice of words caught Dean's attention. "You had them buried? Eli, are you telling me you didn't bury them yourself?"

Eli looked down in shame. "I…I was full of my own importance. Like a pompous ass, I swept into my new church, announced to the people that things would be changed, and then I passed that task off to the caretaker. But I saw the place, the soil was dug, the ground neatly raked after…"

"But you never saw the bones go into the ground?"

"No."

Dean swore quietly. There had to have been a break in the chain. Those bones were not in that ground, for god-knows-what reason. They were somewhere else…

"Elieis, we have to go talk to your caretaker, now!"