A DOOR IN TIME (REVISED)

A Supernatural story by: Silvertayl

Disclaimer and Story Summary:

See Chapter 1

Authors Notes:

This is being posted without a beta. So forgive grammatical and spelling mistakes.

Chapter 7

Thursday Morning at the Athens Memorial Hospital

Sam knew the conversation he had with Dean six days earlier, was the first reason Dean hadn't discharged himself until now. Sam believed he had finally got through Dean's thick skull that Dean couldn't keep treating himself like he didn't matter and wasn't important; because he was important very important to Sam and no doubt all the other people he'd saved and helped over the years.

The second reason and running a close second to Sam was the hot nurses lining up outside Dean's door to give him a bed bath and take care of his every need. Even the redhead from emergency, whose name they had found out was Millie had come up to the fourth floor after her shift and hovered about ready to assist Dean in any way possible.

When Dr. Sheppard pushed open the door to Dean's room she stood unnoticed for a moment observing the five occupants of the room. Sam sitting on a chair in the corner smiling at the three nurses around the bed giggling like school girls and taking turns to spoon feed Dean his breakfast. Dean was lapping up the attention and loving every minute of it.

Schooling her face to hide her amusement Dr. Sheppard cleared her throat exaggeratedly.

"Girls, I'm sure you have other patients that need attending too." She said sternly.

The nurse's heads whipped around at the sound of her voice; then they looked down at their feet mumbling.

"Yes Dr. Sheppard, of course Dr. Sheppard, sorry Dr. Sheppard." They then retreated to the door bumbling together and nearly tripping over each other in their haste to exit the room.

Dr. Sheppard could no longer hide her smile as she advanced further into the room.

"Morning Sam, Dean. Now Dean I thought I warned you about monopolizing the staff's time, I should have gone through with my threat and made sure you had all male nurses."

Dean gave her one of his brilliant smiles.

"Aww come on doc you wouldn't wanna' spoil their fun, it's not every day they get a patient as adorable as me; besides it's not my fault they find me irresistible they just can't stay away."

She returned his infectious smile. "Well it won't happen again because you're being discharged today."

"At last, that's great news doc, I'm outta' here." Dean said pushing the bed tray away he swung one leg off the bed.

"Dude, chill for a minute Dr. Sheppard said today not this very second." Sam reasoned holding his hand palm out in Dean's direction motioning him to slow down.

Dean looked disappointed as he flopped back onto the bed.

The doctor laughed at Dean's sulky childish pout.

"The results of the latest CT show no sign of the clot reforming, so after I check the incisions in your forehead and the paper work is all sorted you can go."

Two hours later Dean was pushed in a wheelchair to the entrance.

As the wheelchair was pushed into the room he protested

"No way I'm gonna leave here in that."

But when four nurses arrived one after the other and began fighting over which one of them was going to push him to the entrance he quickly changed his mind coming up with a solution that should satisfy them all; himself included.

He suggested that they take turns to push, reluctantly the girls agreed.

At the exit doors Dr. Sheppard was waiting, she rolled her eyes at Sam when she saw Dean's female entourage.

Sam shrugged one shoulder and gave her a lopsided smile.

"Hey doc, couldn't let me go without saying goodbye huh?" Dean said standing up from the wheelchair.

He turned to the nurses his eyes sliding across all four of them approvingly.

"Thanks girls I'll take it from here." He said with a killer smile.

They all looked disappointed and with a chorus of sad goodbyes they walked away; glancing back over their shoulders every few steps and giving him little waves.

Dean turned his attention back to the doctor.

"Well doc I guess this is goodbye, thanks for everything." He said holding out his hand a smile from ear to ear.

The doctor took his hand in hers and then in a spur of the moment action leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Dean looked as surprised as she seemed to be herself at the spontaneous action.

"You take care and I don't want to see either of you back here again, okay." She said glancing between the brothers.

"Will do." Dean said.

Then she moved to Sam and repeated the hand shake and the kiss on the cheek. In for a penny in for a pound.

Sam looked embarrassed coloring slightly.

"I can't thank you enough; you saved my brother's life."

"Don't mention it Sam, I think things are going to be quiet around here without you two, but at least the nurses will get their work done."

With a wave in her direction they were gone.

She watched as the young handsome men walked away; across the car park towards a sleek black car parked at the back of the hospital parking lot.

The brothers had a slight altercation at the driver's side door. It appeared Dean wanted to drive and Sam was adamant that he was driving and Dean was a passenger.

Losing the brief argument Dean walked reluctantly around to the passenger side as Sam slid in behind the wheel; the doors slammed the big car's engine rumbled to life to life and they were on their way.

She stood there watching until the big car disappeared from view.

Thursday Evening at the University Inn, Athens Ohio

"Come on Sam have a heart, I think I deserve a decent meal after suffering hospital food for a week, I'd like to sit in a restaurant at a dining table and eat with a real knife and fork instead of those useless plastic ones. I'll even let you drive again."

Dean was trying his version of Sam's puppy dog look, hoping Sam would take pity on him.

"Alright, I saw an Italian pizza pasta place about a mile from here, we can go there." Sam replied with a smile. There was no way he could deny Dean this small thing after all he'd been through lately.

"Pizza and pasta, perfect."

Sam had been surprised when over dinner with a little coaxing Dean had opened up recounting to Sam the torments, so called treatments and the brutality of the muscle bound goons at the asylum.

Dean had made a request that they return to the burnt out asylum on Saturday night to be sure that the fire had successfully closed the door in time for ever.

- ADIT -

Sam didn't know what had woken him, he lay still his eyes shut listening for a repeat of whatever sound had awoken him.

All was quiet for a few moments before the silence was broken by a low moan pierced the dark from the direction of Dean's bed.

Sam rolled over and flicked the switch on the lamp on the table in between the two beds, his eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the light.

Dean was lying on his back which was unusual for him. His normal position being on his stomach.

As Sam watched Dean's head tossed from side to side his legs moved restlessly under the blanket.

Dean was having a nightmare. Sam didn't need to be a genius to know about what.

Sam was at Dean's side in a second; he sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at his brother.

Dean's eyes were closed a glisten of perspiration across his brow and upper lip shone in the lamp light. The two small marks left from the drainage tubes looked red and inflamed in the muted light.

Sam was unsure whether he should wake Dean. So he laid a hand on Dean's upper arm, hoping that the gentle touch would break the hold the nightmare had on his brother.

Dean's face screwed up in what appeared to be pain or the memory of pain; his head continued to toss the movement becoming more jerky and frantic.

Then he moaned again it was followed closely by a whispered plea.

"Please don't do this you're making a mistake."

Dean was reliving his time in the asylum.

Seeing Dean's growing distress Sam made the decision to wake him he shook his arm gently.

"Dean, wake up dude, you're dreaming."

Instead of waking Dean seemed to sink further into the nightmare his back arched off the bed, his head thrown back eyes scrunched up and his teeth were gritted. A groan escaped from between his clenched teeth.

Sam shook him harder and leaned close to Dean's straining face.

"Dean, It's me Sammy you're safe, wake up man you're scaring me."

As if his words had penetrated into the depths of the nightmare Sam felt Dean relax a little under his hands a moment later Dean's lids fluttered and opened, revealing confused green eyes. He blinked a few times as if bringing Sam's worried face into focus.

"Sammy? What are you doing?"

Sam patted Dean's chest with the palm of his hand. "You were having a nightmare, a pretty bad one."

"A nightmare?" Dean pulled his elbows under him and lifted himself off the mattress. "Sorry if I woke you."

"Don't worry about it." Sam said.

With another reassuring pat on Dean's arm he got off the bed going into the bathroom returning a moment later with a glass of water.

"Here drink some of this." He thrust the glass at Dean.

Dean sat up moved back so he was sitting with his back against the bed head and took the glass in hands that trembled just a little. He took a long swallow from the glass before putting the glass down on the lamp table.

"Thanks Sammy."

Sam sat down on the edge of his own bed facing his brother.

"Do you… wanna' talk about it?"

Dean dragged a hand down his face, gazing off into the darkness of the room.

"I was in the asylum with Dr. Frankenstein and that bitch of a matron, they… were giving me that shock treatment… again."

Sam nodded. "I figured it might have been something like that."

Dean looked up and across at Sam's concerned face.

"Sam, it was so real like it was happening again, I could feel the pain and the fear."

Sam gave Dean one of his thin lipped smile.

"I'm sure it felt real but it was a nightmare, Dean," Sam paused for a moment then continued, "They can't hurt you anymore."

"Yeah you're right," Dean nodded his head. "Okay Dr. Phil I'm good, go back to bed."

"You sure? I can sit with you for a while if you want?"

Dean gave an amused chuckle. "You gonna tuck me in and tell me a bedtime story. Dude I'm not six. Go back to bed cuz you need your beauty sleep Samantha."

Sam gave a snort of laughter and slid back under the bed covers. He gave Dean one more look then rolled over away from his brother and after a while he drifted back to sleep.

Dean sat in his bed looking at Sam's broad back, after a few minutes he heard the change in Sam's breathing and knew that his brother was sleep.

Dean sighed and closing his eyes he leaned his head back against the bed head, the nightmare playing an instant replay against his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes again willing it away.

The nightmare had been a nightly if unwanted companion for Dean since Sam rescued him from the asylum, every time he had closed his eyes or slept in the hospital, Dr. Franklin, Matron Reed, giant ice picks and shock therapy had been at the forefront of his mind.

Dean had hoped the nightmares would be magically gone when he was discharged but the first night away from the hospital it had come to him again.

Dean came to the conclusion that apart from going to a shrink which was never gonna happen the only way to put an end to the nightmares was going back to the asylum and making sure that door is closed permanently, putting his ghosts to rest for good.

That would give closure on this hunt that had turned bad for not only himself but Sam as well. Dean knew his brother had suffered emotionally while he had been missing for a week and the subsequent events of the week since, following Sam's rescuing him from the asylum and then his lifesaving operation.

Now it was a matter of trying to keep the nightmares at bay until Saturday night, when they visited the burnt out shell of the asylum for hopefully the last time.

Okay so all I gotta do is stay awake for the next forty eight hours no sleeping no nightmares. Piece of cake.

Saturday Evening at the Asylum

The ground floor of the asylum was virtually untouched by the fire, the upper floor however was a chard ruin, and parts of the roof had collapsed in onto the floor. Through the gaping holes in the roof moon light cast an eerie silvery glow on the piles of debris.

Using flashlights and panning the EMF meter around the brothers picked their way carefully across the floor to the where the corridor of patient rooms had stood.

Dean began to clear away some of the rubble close to the wall.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked a note of humor in his voice.

Dean continued to shift bits of rubble. "We might as well sit while we wait Sammy."

With a space big enough for the both of them including Sam's extra long legs Dean sat with his back to the wall.

Sam slid down the wall to sit beside his brother propping the salt gun he had insisted on bringing against the wall in between them.

Dean looked down at the salt gun then up to Sam's face the glow of the moonlight casting a halo of silvery light around his profile.

"I still don't think we need that, there's no EMF reading in here."

"Dean, do we have to have this discussion again?"

Wrapped in silence they sat there as midnight came and went.

Nothing had changed; no drop in temperature no shimmering or shifting of the air.

Dean took the EMF meter out and switched it on swinging it in an arc in front of them. When the meter remained silent Dean observed.

"Well Sammy looks like it worked."

"So maybe you can get some sleep now?" Sam answered.

"What?"

"Come on Dean you think I can't see what's been going on? I'm with you 24/7 I know you haven't slept since you were discharged from the hospital."

"Sam." Dean said in a warning tone.

"Don't Sam me. It was because of the nightmares right?"

Dean rolled the back of his head up against the wall and sighed.

"Yeah you are. I figured that coming here tonight would probably put a stop to the nightmares to get closure as the experts are so fond of saying."

"I hope it does."

"You and me both Sammy," Dean turned to Sam and smiled, "come on let's get outta' here. I've seen enough of this place in one way or another or one time and another to last me a lifetime."

"There's a cooler in the car with a couple of cold beers in it."

Dean's smile widened. "Aww look at you, Sam the Boy Scout always prepared."

Sam returned Dean's smile lifting his arms up. "You bet."

Dean stood and put his hand down to Sam.

Sam picked up the salt gun and clasped Dean's hand hauling himself to his feet.

Moving slowly they began to pick their way back through the debris.

Without warning the EMF meter Dean had shoved back into his pocket squealed a loud warning.

"What the hell." Dean exclaimed

He reached into his pocket and pulled the squealing noisy meter out. It grew louder and more insistent the little red bulbs on top dancing on and off.

"Dean." Sam said his voice low.

His tone drew Dean's eyes to his face.

Sam was looking towards the end of the corridor. Dean followed the direction of Sam's eyes to the ghostly form hovering at the end of the corridor.

Dean's throat went dry and his eyes widened as the semi transparent spirit of Dr. William Franklin clad in dress shirt, suit pants and bow tie a giant ice pick in hand, hovered in front of them blocking their exit.

Franklin was looking at Dean; he spoke his voice echoing eerily towards them. "I knew you'd come back."

"Son of a bitch." Dean said in a low growl.

Without warning the spirit was gliding towards them with unbelievable speed.

Sam raised the salt gun to fire into the fast advancing form but before he could squeeze the trigger the spirit raised a hand in Sam's direction and Sam flew backwards, his back contacting against the wall several feet behind him, the gun falling from his hands with the force of the impact.

Franklin's advance ended a second after Sam hit the wall. He hit Dean in the chest with the full weight of his ghostly form knocking Dean flat on his back into a pile of debris from a fallen section of the roof.

Winded by the impact Dean tried desperately to draw breath. Before he could recover the deathly pale face of Franklin appeared above him; the spirit was hovering horizontally above him holding him against the floor with an invisible ghostly force.

Franklin raised the hand holding the ice pick into Dean's line of sight saying with a smile. "This won't hurt a bit."

Dean's horrified eyes stared at the descending ice pick, trying desperately to break the invisible force holding him in its grip.

"No…No." He squeezed out between gritted teeth.

The ice pick came closer and closer to his wide staring eye; it was only an inch away when the loud report of a shot gun echoed around him. The spirit above him disintegrated and rock salt showered down on his head and face.

Drawing in huge lung full's of air Dean turned his head to the right, and saw his savior Sam, still holding the shot gun up at the spot the spirit had been moments before.

Sam cocked his head to one side and said with a slight smile as he waved the shot gun in Dean's direction. "Aren't you glad I bought this?"

Finally recovering his breath Dean said. "Don't you dare say I told you so," then when Sam made no move to approach added, "are you gonna help me up or you gonna stand there all night gloating?"

Sam picked his way across the rubble strewn floor to Dean and put down his hand pulling Dean to his feet much like Dean had done to him minutes earlier.

"You okay Sammy?"

"Yeah you?"

"I'm good."

Apart from bruised backs neither brother had any major injuries from the spirit's attack.

"Let's get the hell outta' here before he comes back to finish the job." Sam offered.

"Absolutely." Dean agreed.

They made their way as quickly as possible to the stairs and out of the asylum.

Reaching the car Dean spoke.

"We'll have to locate Franklin's remains salt and burn 'em, and get rid of that son of a bitch for good."

Sam nodded and said. "Guess those beers will have to wait then huh."

"'Fraid so, we'll keep 'em on ice until we finish this."

Monday Afternoon at the Athens Public Library, Athens Ohio

They had been at the library most of the morning. Now the early afternoon found them still scanning through the – Births, Deaths and Marriages records, looking for Dr. William Franklin's place of burial.

Dean closed another huge file and reached for the next one with a sigh of frustration, saying loudly.

"You'd think they'd get into the twenty-first century and have all this stuff put on a data base."

Sam looked up from the file he was reading to Dean across the large wooden desk.

"Shssh, just keep looking."

Opening the cover of the next file, Dean let the heavy hard cover drop onto the desk with a loud thump; the librarian looked in his direction and shook her head then put her bony finger against her lip in a gesture of silence.

"Dean quit it." Sam said annoyed, going back to reading.

"I hate this, Sam."

"I know I heard you the first thousand times you've said it since we've been here." Sam answered without looking up from the book he was reading.

"It's sooo boring." Dean said flipping over a page.

Looking up Sam felt a pang of concern at Dean's tired face. He knew Dean hadn't slept for at least five nights. It showed in the dark circles under his eyes and his paler than usual complexion.

"Why don't you go and get us some coffee? I'll keep looking." Sam offered.

"Really?"

"Yeah go on, take a break."

Dean glanced at the librarian, then at the sign on the counter –

NO FOOD OR BEVERAGES ARE ALLOWED TO BE BROUGHT INTO OR TO BE CONSUMED IN THE LIBRARY

"How am I gonna get it past the ice maiden?"

"Use the Dean Winchester charm."

"Don't think even I could charm her." Dean said glancing at the sour-faced librarian.

"You'll think of something now go."

Dean made his way to the exit, giving the librarian one of characteristic smiles as he passed the counter.

He thought he saw a slight lift in her stony expression. This might just work.

Thirty minutes later Dean returned with a takeout container of coffee for Sam Held under his leather jacket and out of sight of the librarian. Not willing to push his luck he had drunk his outside.

Dean sat with his back to the counter blocking the librarian's view of Sam and produced the cup from under his jacket. "There you go."

"Where's yours?" Sam asked stealing a glance at the librarian before taking the lid off the cup.

"Drunk it outside, you find anything yet?"

"Nope not yet." He answered taking a drink from the steaming cup.

Dean slid the discarded file he'd left open towards him and resumed scanning the entries.

Both were silent for awhile as they worked at the files, Sam taking sips at the coffee.

"I got it." Dean said his finger jabbing at the page he was viewing.

"Wanna share with the class Dean?" Sam said looking askance at him.

Dean turned the file towards Sam, he read from where Dean's finger had indicated.

Dr. William Peter Franklin

DOB: September 9 1909

DOD: April 17 1996

Interred at:

The Alexander Cemetery

Hebbardsville Road Athens, Ohio

Plot No. : 415

Dean smiled at Sam. "We've got work to do, Sammy, but first things first," Dean pushed up from the table, "lunch I need a cheese burger and fries."

Sam shoved the now empty cup into the pocket of his jacket and got to his feet, following Dean towards the exit.

Dean gave the stony-faced ice maiden another megawatt smile as he passed. Noting the ever so slight loosening of her expression.

Yep definitely melting, you still got it Winchester.

Monday Evening at the Alexander Cemetery, Athens Ohio

Storm clouds had gathered as the sun set accompanied with rolls of thunder and flashes of lightning becoming more frequent as they drove to the cemetery.

The rain started as they drove through the cemetery gates.

As they trudged through the cemetery it soon became a downpour with a light show accompanied by a symphony orchestra with an excellent bass section. They were both soon soaked to the skin.

The grass squelched and sucked at their boots with every step. A sudden gust of wind sent an icy sheet of rainwater into their exposed faces.

"It should be around here somewhere." Dean said shining the flash light onto the nearby headstones.

"Just our luck it hasn't rained the whole two weeks we've been in Athens and tonight because we gotta dig up Franklin it's a full on thunder storm." Sam grumbled as he also shone his flash light around the headstones.

A flash of lightning lit up the cemetery and thunder rolled around the headstones.

"Yahtzee." Dean said as he threw the duffle bag onto the ground beside a well maintained grave with a large ornate marble headstone, proclaiming it to be the final resting place of,

Dr. WILLIAM P FRANKLIN

9-9-1909 4-17-1996

SADLY MISSED

Without another word, they started to dig, spades getting heavier as the soil mixed with the rain that continued to fall turning it to mud.

After twenty minutes, when their spades finally struck the lid of the casket, they were covered in a coating of mud and breathing hard.

Sam climbed laboriously out of the grave, the rain turning the sides of the grave slick and slippery running with rivers of mud. His clothes weighing him down with the extra weight of the rain and mud; even his longer legs didn't seem to help him lever himself out of the hole.

Dean handed his spade up to Sam with one hand and took the axe from Sam with the other hand.

With a couple of blows from the sharp axe Dean broke through the casket lid, uncovering what remained of Franklin.

Another flash of lightning and the glow from the flashlight allowed Dean to see Franklin's body clearly.

Parchment like skin and wisps of hair clung to his skull, the burial suit was darkened and worn through in places.

The rain fell through the broken lid of the casket onto Franklin's remains, the rain causing the bones to darken and the wisps of hair to flatten against the grinning skull. Looking upon the remains of his tormentor, Dean felt a trickle of rain water run down his neck followed by a shiver of cold. The rivulet of water traced a path down his spine to blend with the mud and rain already soaking his clothes.

Sam reached a hand down and Dean grasped hold digging the toes of his boots into the weakened wet sides of the grave aiming for some kind of purchase. Sam dug his heels into the grass and leaned back to prevent the both of them from sliding back into the muddy hole. The mud seemed to be trying to suck Dean back down in with Franklins remains.

Dean was eventually lying on the edge of the grave, his face turned towards the falling rain as he regained his breath.

Sam tapped him on the chest sending up spurts of water asking. "You okay?"

"Yeah, you got the salt and the lighter fluid."

Lightning and thunder increased in intensity flashing and rolling around them, illuminating the canister of salt and small tin of lighter fluid Sam had taken from the duffle while Dean was in the grave breaking open the casket.

Dean flipped the top on the salt canister upending it; a thunk sounded from inside the canister as the contents tipped up to the open end.

"Damn it the salts wet."

Taking out his knife Dean cut through the canister dropping the knife on the edge of the hole he scooped out handfuls of salt throwing each handful into the grave spreading it as best as he could over the bones.

Sam had better luck with the lighter fluid, squirting the contents of the small can onto the bones and the surrounding casket.

Dean joined Sam at the foot of the grave taking the match book from his pocket and holding it up looking unbelieving at the soggy mess.

"Sam we got another problem, the matches are wet."

"Give one a try you might be able to get it to light."

Dean struck one and then a second both failed to strike before the waterlogged matchbook disintegrated falling onto the sopping grass.

The wind picked up again, the lightning flashes almost constant the rain was swirling in a circular motion over Franklin's grave. Before their horrified eyes Franklin's ghostly form ice pick in hand appeared in the swirling wind and rain hovering above the open grave.

Without a word Sam bent reaching for the salt gun on the ground beside him his fingers barely brushed the wooden stock before he felt himself lifted just like in the asylum and Sam felt his body hurtle backwards his short flight ended abruptly as his back connected hard against an eight foot tall stone angel on one of the nearby graves. The back of his head slammed against the hard stone. His world darkened as ungraciously he slid down the angel coming to rest in a slumped heap at the angel's feet; he slid sideways propped between the base and the wet grass as darkness closed in consuming him.

It had happened so fast. One second Sam was standing beside him and the next he was flying through the air, his back connecting with a tall angel statue before he slipped to the ground and lay still slumped against the base.

"SAMMY!" Dean shouted turning quickly and taking a step towards Sam's slumped unmoving form.

One step was as far as got towards his unconscious brother. The swirling vortex that had surrounded Franklin's spirit moved and descended on him dragging him backwards. His body was pitched backwards the heels of his boots scrapped across the muddy edge of the grave pulling grass and mud into the grave. Dean felt his left shoulder dislocate as it impacted hard with the marble headstone. A spike of pain radiated from his neck down his arm. He cried out as he fell forwards into the open grave, coming to rest on his side against the broken casket lid; wooden splinters piercing his clothes and burying deep into the flesh of his hip and side, his nose assaulted by the odor of the rotting flesh and the lighter fluid soaking into the broken wood and the corpse inside.

More splinters embedded themselves in the palm of the hand on his uninjured arm as Dean pushed himself back and up folding his legs beneath him to sit on his heels balancing each knee on the side edges of the casket he then pulled his injured arm into his side holding it against his body with the now splinter encrusted hand.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the interior of the grave illuminating something shiny half buried in the mud to the left of the casket. It was his knife he must have dragged it into the grave with his feet during his short but painful journey. Reluctantly letting go of his injured arm he reached awkwardly across his body, his fingers brushed the handle, he had to reach further before he grasped the handle holding it tightly the action pushing and embedding the splinters further into his palm.

Dean lifted his eyes to the lip of the grave blinking rapidly to clear the persistent fat drops rain from his eyes; staring like a deer in the headlights at Franklin's spirit hovering menacingly above the foot of his own grave.

Franklin's mouth split in a wicked grin and ghostly laughter echoed around the walls of the grave, in the fraction of a second it took for another lightning flash to light up the cemetery Franklin was in the grave in front of him his head and shoulders level with Dean's, the bottom half of his body from the hips down disappearing into the casket; in one hand was the object Dean had seen too many times the deadly ice pick.

"Son of a bitch." Dean growled as he scooted back on his knees, his knife still clutched in his hand pain from his dislocated shoulder shooting down his all but useless arm.

Franklin lifted his hand and Dean was thrown back against the muddy wet wall at the head of the grave, the pain this time so intense it stole his breath away. Heavy mud filled water dribbled down from above running down his face and trickling down his neck as Franklin held him there with invisible force.

Drifting eerily towards him on unseen ghostly legs, Franklin stopped immediately in front of him staring into Dean's eyes and then for the first time that night the spirit spoke.

"There will be no escape this time, I will finish your treatment, you must see young man it's for your own good, now hold still this won't hurt a bit."

Dean once again found himself staring at the tip of the ice pick as Franklin lifted his arm. One of the central subjects of his nightmares came closer and closer towards his eye.

Dean tried to lift the knife in self defense. Even the knowledge that knives were no use against ghosts and spirits did deter him; he had to try something. But to his alarm he was unable to move a muscle; his hand trembled with the effort. Above outside the confines of the grave mingling with the cacophony of the storm Sam was calling out his name.

He wanted desperately to call out to Sam to tell him he was here, but even his vocal cords seemed paralyzed as he continued to struggle against Franklin's ethereal force.

Sam came too wondered why he was soaking wet and lying in a cold puddle of water. Then his memory came rushing back; the cemetery, thunder, lightning, rain and then Franklin's spirit appearing and then he was flying through the air. The back of his head hurt, he put the tips of shaking fingers to the spot and wasn't at all surprised when in a flash of lightning they were coated in red, which quickly turned pink as it mixed with the rain and ran away between his fingers.

Sam got slowly to his feet looking at Franklin's grave. Where's Dean?

"Dean…. Dean!" Sam yelled out as loud as he could to be heard above the noise of the storm.

Using the base of the angel statue he was slumped against Sam pushed himself to his feet hurried towards Franklin's grave the wet grass slippery under foot. He scooped up the rock salt gun on the way. Skidding to a stop on the sopping grass at the edge he looked down.

Dean, his favorite Bowie knife in hand was on his knees his back pressed back against the crumbling wet soil at the head of the ruined casket. The hand clutching the knife shook with effort as he tried to lift it to defend himself against Franklin. To Sam's horror he could see Franklin was again wielding the ice pick lowering it slowly towards Dean's unprotected eye.

In one movement Sam aimed and fired the salt gun at Franklin's semi-transparent back.

The spirit dispersed into the wet air of the grave, wet clumps of salt falling onto Dean's chest and the broken lid of the casket.

In yet another flash of lightning, Sam saw that Dean hadn't moved and was still on his knees his back pressed against the wall a waterfall of muddy water showering him, chest heaving as he looked up at Sam his eyes blinking against the persistent rain falling into his eyes, his hair plastered to his head.

"What…kept… you?" Dean huffed out breathlessly.

Sam smiled. "Sorry, I was just a little preoccupied with an angel."

Dean gave a brief grimace saying. "Dude I popped my shoulder, I don't think I can climb outta here."

"There's some rope in the car, I'll be right back." Sam turned away

"Sam." Dean's weary voice made him turn back.

Sam looked down at his brother. "What?"

"There's a lighter in the glove compartment."

"Okay."

Sam turned away again, then he heard Dean call out again.

"Sam."

"What?"

"Hurry up before Franklin gets back."

"Dude if you call me back again I'll let him have you."

Without waiting for a trademark smartass Dean Winchester come back Sam ran back to the Impala, his feet sending up small fountains of water with each step.

Taking the rope from the trunk and the finding the lighter after having to pull all the contents of the glove compartment out onto the floor he ran back to Dean.

Noting as he ran that the worst of the storm had passed.

Dean had moved and was now standing against the side of the grave. Sam knotted the rope and threw it down to him. Dean handed the knife up to Sam then using his good arm pulled the looped rope over his head before lifting the injured one through pulling the rope tight under his arms. He took hold of the rope above the loop higher up.

"Okay."

Dean braced his feet against the wall trying to help Sam as much as he was able his useless arm and shoulder made it impossible to use it for leverage.

The air of filled with grunts and groans of effort, after what felt like an eternity Dean's head appeared over the lip of the grave Sam kept tension on the rope with one hand and grabbed the back of Dean's jacket with the other hauling him up and out onto the grass.

Dean rolled onto his back allowing Sam to untie the rope from around his chest.

"You alright bro?" Sam asked noting the lines of pain around Dean's mouth.

"I'm good. Did you get the lighter?"

Sam dug around in his pocket and produced the lighter holding it up in front of Dean, a smile on his face his wet bangs hanging down across his forehead in clumps and curling into large inverted commas.

Out of thin wet air Franklin materialized behind Sam.

"Sam behind you."

At Dean's warning Sam half turned. Franklin's hand shot out catching Sam across the cheek flinging him sideways; the force of the blow rolling Sam away from Dean to lie still, face up on the grass. Sam's out flung hand was towards Dean his fingers still lightly curled around the silver lighter.

Franklin was on Dean in a flash, one cold pale hand pressing against Dean's forehead and the other holding the ice pick close to his eye.

For the second time that night Dean felt himself held by Franklin's strong eerie steely force.

Franklin leaned in his pale almost transparent face close to his. Dean could smell rotting flesh in the ice cold mist of his breath as he said in a whisper. "No more interruptions, it's time to finish what I started over forty years ago."

Dean slid his eyes towards Sam realizing that the lighter was in reach of his injured arm, pain flared in his shoulder radiating down his arm as he worked his fingers across the wet grass separating him from his brother. Then he felt the brush of Sam's long fingertips.

His eyes now back on the ice pick that was so close he had to cross his eyes to keep it in sight. His groping finger tips touched the cold metal of the lighter nestled in Sam's palm; Dean grasped it, white hot pain shooting from his shoulder into his collar bone and down his arm as he flipped the top and flicked the wheel just as the tip of the ice pick touched the corner of his eye; He felt heat on the thumb holding down the tiny lever beside the wheel. Lifting his pain filled arm and with a groan of agony Dean threw the lighter over the edge of the grave. There was a whoosh as the fluid caught the flame. In his peripheral vision Dean saw flames begin to lick at the edge of the grave.

Dean tried to close his eyes as the pressure of the ice pick piercing his eye increased for a second and then it just stopped.

Franklin's smile turned to a look of shock as he burst into flame, Dean felt heat on his face and a burning sensation on his forehead where a moment ago Franklin's hand had been, but Franklin was gone as was the force pressing him into the soggy ground.

Dean pulled his injured arm into his side held it there before pushing his aching, hurting body into a sitting position. He drag/crawled his way to Sam's side. Sam had a livid red mark across his cheek in the shape of Franklin's hand.

A moment later Sam's hazel eyes flickered open and focused on Dean's wet mud covered face; grasping handfuls of Dean's jacket he sat up quickly his head almost connecting with Dean's nose.

"Dean!"

"Whoa, take it easy tiger…. last thing I need is a broken nose, he then added in a concerned voice, "you okay Sammy?"

"I'm good….what'd I miss, where's Franklin?" Sam said glancing around and seeing the flames licking at the top of the grave. "Did you?" He added motioning towards the grave.

"Yep."

"It's over then huh?"

"Yeah it's over."

Sam noticed the strange slant of Dean's shoulder asking. "How's the shoulder?"

"Painful, let's clean up here and you can put it back in for me at the motel."

The storm was over. The rain had petered out and stopped altogether and now a watery looking crescent moon was peeking through the clouds as they made their way back to Impala.

After stowing everything in the trunk Dean tossed Sam the keys.

"You can drive, Sammy."

"I should think, seeing as there's no way you can."

"Whoa, hang on. We can't get into my Baby like this all this dirt and mud it's not good for the upholstery."

"Dean, you're all beat to hell and you're worrying about the upholstery."

"Hell yeah."

"Just get in Dean; I'll clean her up in the morning."

"You will? You'd do that for me?"

Sam pulled the door open. "Of course, you're my big brother and I'd do anything for you."

Dean smiled and held up his splintered palm. "No chick flick moments Sammy."

Sam slid in behind the wheel and pulled the door shut. "It's Sam."

To be continued…

One more chapter for recovery and to wrap up all the loose ends.

Thanks for reading, please review.

Silvertayl 57