Screaming for Vengeance

Chapter Nine

The soft purring sigh filled the dark night. It was waiting. It was watching. A soft snarling breath rolled over them. The shadow shape slipped between the trees, black against black, as if the light was pulled with it. It made its hunting sound, the sharp bark, cutting, wounding. It was ready.

Dean pulled Sam against him. How can I get us back? Will it come? Or does it want to play a little more? Adding to the hunt, adding to its pleasure when it does finally kill me? He looked down at Sam. "Sam?" His brother was watching him, concern in his eyes. Dean thought he knew what was there.

"No, Sam, not leaving you. So shut up about it ok?" His brother blinked twice, an angry gesture. "No, Sam. Both of us or not at all."

And the shadow shape barked again, as if it understood what he had said, as if it knew what that meant. The sound chilled Dean. His hands were shaking. It moved again, he thought the soft sigh was closer. It sniffed the air. It was happy. Very happy. It oozed around them, the sound shifting from side to side, it was waiting. For what? I have to try and get Sam back to safety, back to the fire. It was in front of them, down the hill, just over the crest, sighing, watching.

The clouds had come up again, the little light the stars cast was slowly extinguished, the night becoming dark. It was as if he had been slowly blinded. His range of vision had shrunk down to a very few feet around him, he could just make out Sam.

The soft sighing breath, purring happily, was getting closer again. Coming up the hill, its passage betrayed only by the soft rustle of branches. Closer, closer. It stopped. Waiting. The breath rasped softly, almost like the sound of its claws against the ground. Softly, purring its kitten purr.

And then, silence.

Complete silence. As if it had disappeared.

Nothing moved in the darkness, there was no sound. It was there, Dean thought he could still sense it there. He tensed, somehow knowing that it was coming, somehow knowing it would. He looked down at Sam. His brother blinked. Dean smiled and gently shifted Sam to the ground. Come on, come on. Sam was watching him, concern very apparent in his eyes. Dean nodded a tiny bit.

And it struck.

The great claws hit him, knocking him away from Sam. Hit him again, rolling him further away. And again, and again. Something stopped him., something hard, solid. A fallen tree. It was there in front of him, waiting. He could sense it there, hear its snarling breath. The claws struck out again, rolling him along the log, the root ball stopped him that time. It was coming. Closer, purring now, sniffing. It was pleased. Closer. Closer. A soft sighing breath. A claw reached out, found his shattered leg and jabbed down. Pain exploded through him. It sighed, the claw went deeper. Dean screamed, rage, defiance, pain blended into that shout. It purred, snuffling gently, so close, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, withdrew the claw.

It moved away, from him. He knew it was moving towards Sam.

No, Sam. No. "SAM!"

He realized he had no idea where he was in relation to his brother, he didn't even know where to begin. Up the hill, but how far did it move me? It's so dark I'll never find Sam. I have to find him, I have to find him. His ankle was a mass of pain, burning, throbbing, anchoring him there, holding him in stillness. He forced himself onto his hands and knees, and started crawling carefully up the hill. Each movement sent a further shaft of pain stabbing into his ankle, moving upwards through his body, calling the darkness in. And with each tiny step, each slide forward Dean could feel something new there, something more than pain. He kept going.

He could hear it up there, grunting softly. It was busy. It was moving. Dean stopped, listening, waiting there in the dark. He could hear it dragging something. Sam, it's moving him, making him harder for me to find. Dean waited, trying to figure out where the sound was in relation to him. It was still dragging something. He heard the bark, shrill in the night. The sound of dragging moved, off to his left. It stopped. Barked. And the sound of dragging to his right.

He suddenly knew what it was doing. It's baiting me. Trying to lead me astray, trying to make it so I can't find Sam in time. In time for what?

"SAM!" He shouted into the night. "I'm still here!"

It stopped what it was doing. It waited. The soft snarl started building, growing slowly, louder, deeper, becoming a growl, getting louder, getting deeper, until it was less a sound than a physical sensation coming in waves, filling Dean's body with the rumble of its voice.

"Sam!" He yelled over that rumble, over the terrifying sound of its voice.

It sensed his fear. It was happy. He heard it sliding towards him. Moving to where he waited in the trees. It moved up beside him. "SAM! I'm still…" It slashed out with those great claws, connecting with him, slamming him into a tree he hadn't even realized was there. Consciousness dimmed.

It moved off, out into the dark night, out into the silent forest. Purring softly, grunting, the sound almost like laughter.

XXX

Sam felt himself gently lifted. The sensation odd in his dead body. Dean was holding him. "Sam?" He looked at his brother, watched the emotions playing there. He's afraid, he's angry, he's in pain. How can I help? His brother looked down at him, a wan smile on his face. Dean, please go, leave me. Please Dean. Go. I can't move, can't feel anything but the pain. If it kills me, I probably won't even know until it's too late. Go, Dean, please.

"No, Sam, not leaving you. So shut up about it ok?" God damn it Dean, save yourself. Get out of here. Sam blinked, trying to get that across to his brother. "No, Sam. Both of us or not at all." No, Dean, please. Just go. Please?

It barked, a shrill noise, grating on the nerves, terrifying. Sam could sense his brother's fear. He could hear it moving, the breath soft, sighing, snarling all around. Dean? Sam could see the first edges of clouds reaching feathery fingers across the sky, pulling the stars behind them. Blotting out the light. Sam's world narrowed to a tiny space. He could just see Dean.

Silence. Unexpected, chilling, complete. The purring breath was gone. There was nothing. Sam felt his heart beat harder, each slow beat pounding in his chest, filling his ears in that silence. Dean looked down at him. I'm ok, Dean, do what you need to do. I'll be ok here. He blinked. Dean smiled and laid him on the ground. Dean, please be careful, please take care of yourself, ok? His brother nodded a tiny bit.

And Sam heard it, coming, the claws making a small noise in the night. DEAN! Sam saw the claws connect with his brother and Dean was gone. He heard it strike his brother again, and again. He heard Dean's body rolling away from him. He heard him grunt as he ran into something, like the sound had been forced out of him involuntarily.

A moment later Sam heard his brother again. Dean screamed. It was a sound of pain, almost unendurable, a sound of rage, soul killing in its depth. Dean? Dean! His brother's name screamed in his head. Are you ok? Please answer me!

"SAM!" He's alive.

Sam could hear it coming back, getting closer to him. He could hear the soft breath, purring, it was happy. It got closer, closer. It was almost on top of him. He was moving, he could hear the sound as he was dragged over the ground. Each bump jarring through him, each stop agony in his unresponsive body. It stopped. Something bad is about to happen, I think. It was sighing. Sam felt an odd pressure on his chest, he couldn't feel anything but the pressure. Which is probably good, I think it is injuring me. If I could feel it I would probably be screaming. If I could scream. Which I can't.

"SAM!" His brother's voice, off to his left. "I'm still here!" I have a funny feeling you need to get to me quick, Dean.

It was making a new sound, the horrifying bass rumble filling the night. "Sam!" Dean's voice cut through that growl, breaking the spell a little bit.

Sam heard it moving away from him. Dean, it's coming for you, DEAN! It was purring, grunting softly, content as it slid away from him, down towards his brother. He heard it stop. "I'm still…" and Dean's voice was cut off as if it had been sliced away. Sam heard it moving away, and a new sound. Happy, almost cheerful.

Terrifying.

It's happy. Dean? What did it do? Dean?? Did it kill him? Dean! It's pleased. It left. Why did it leave now? DEAN!

He waited, listening. Waiting. He opened his eyes, he could see nothing, the stars were still gone, hiding from it. The forest was silent. Nothing moved, nothing disturbed the silence.

Sam was feeling odd. He couldn't think of another way to describe it. I need to get to Dean. It did something to me, I think. How can I get to him? Am I bleeding to death? It left me here, why? Does it want me to think it killed Dean? Did it kill Dean? How can I find him? What does it want? Why did it leave me? It wants something. What…? Realization flowed through him like its poison. It wants Dean. Why? Did it kill him? How can I help him? It's using me. Dean?

The forest was still silent. Nothing moving, nothing in that dark night. Sam listened, straining, his thoughts pulled away, out there into the forest, out there where his brother had been.

Dean? Are you still there? I think you might be in trouble. Dean? Are you alive? I need you to be alive, I need to know that before I die, Dean. Are you still there?

XXX

Dean groaned, he heard his own voice in the night. Something answered him, a coyote yipped off somewhere, talking to him. I am losing my mind. The night was filling with sound again. He thought he could see a faint glow starting in the sky, the tiniest light at the edge of the clouds. I need to get up, I need to find Sam. He pushed himself over. And Dean? You're an idiot. He reached into his pocket, his lighter was still there. Now, can I find something that will burn? He flipped the lighter open, a small light in the huge darkness around him. That helps. Ha. He felt around him. His hand connected with a branch, wet, he slid his hand on and on. Finally he put his hand on something sticky. He picked up the branch, it had pitch on part of it. He held the lighter to it and it burst into flame.

Now, all I have to do is figure out how to crawl with his in my hand. He started to move forward, holding the burning stick up, the heel of his hand on the ground. He crawled slowly up the hill. "Sam?" He was finally at the top of the hill. He moved on, stopping holding the torch up to look for Sam. Crawling forward, stopping, looking, crawling forward. He could see the soft glow of the fire by their shelter. It wasn't all that far away. It might as well be a thousand miles. Crawling forward, looking for Sam. Endlessly.

"Sam?" Something at the edge of the torch light. "Sam?" He got to his brother. There was a dark stain spreading across Sam's chest. His eyes were closed. "Hey, come on." He pulled the torn edge of Sam's shirt apart, there was a great slash there, bleeding slowly. Oh, god. "Sam?" I have to get something to fix that, I need to get him to safety. He laughed bitterly. Cause there are so many safe places out here. I'll just make a fire by Sam. He started grabbing branches, stacking them carefully, he shoved his torch into the pile. It slowly caught, crackling, hissing, steam rising from some of the branches like smoke.

"Sam? I'm going to go get the pack, I need the first aid kit. Hang on, only a minute more." He crawled back towards their shelter, he pushed himself up so he could step over the burning embers and got the pack, emergency blanket and Sam's coat. Don't forget the can and the water bottle, brilliant. One bottle was empty, but he grabbed the other, the can, his crutch and headed back towards Sam. Whatever it did to my ankle, I don't think its going to hold out much longer.

He dropped back down by his brother. God, I hope he isn't bleeding to death. He carefully wiped the blood away. Maybe it's not as bad as I thought. He poked gently at the wound. It's not nearly as bad as I thought, he's bleeding but not bad, it's just not that deep. Then why? God, more venom? He cleaned the wound and pulled the edges together, gluing it shut with butterfly bandages. He put a sterile pad over it and stuck it all down with tape. There, that should hold. Might stay clean for an hour or two.

Dean sighed. I don't want to know, but I have to look at my ankle. It did something, I think, unless it was just torturing me, which is a possibility. He carefully slid his pant leg up and looked at the wound just above his boot, it was deep. If it had poisoned me I think I would feel it by now, wouldn't I? Or actually not feel it by now, which would be nice. I don't think it's nice, so why? He looked at the wound again, moving his leg closer to the firelight. Well it hurts, but why? It's not really like that ankle could get much worse. I didn't mean that, do you hear me, I didn't mean it. I take it back.

Ok, I'm losing it.

He crawled around Sam, carefully building a stack of fire wood so he could light a fire around them, so they could be safe in a circle of flame. And hopefully won't light the forest on fire while I'm at it, of course at least that would bug it. He stopped, the first wisps of an idea drifting through his mind. Hmmm. He lit the fire and moved back to his brother.

He pulled Sam up onto his leg again. Dean put his hand on Sam's chest, waiting, waiting. There, a heartbeat. Thank god, he's still so cold I can't tell unless I feel that pulse. Sam's eyes opened, slowly, as if it took and enormous effort. He looked up at Dean. "Hey, Sam." Sam blinked, the lids sliding down pausing and opening again. "I'm ok. It just knocked me around a little. You?" Sam looked at him. "What? Sam?" His brother's eyes closed. Dean waited, they opened slowly. "I cleaned the wound on your chest, it's not all that bad, might even get away with hardly a scar."

Still Sam was looking at him, steady, intense. "Do you think it poisoned you again? Sam?" Come on, tell me, Sammy. His brother's eyes rolled a little. "Well you'd be the one to know, how do you think I'd tell?" Dean snapped. "Sorry. I might be a tiny bit worried, just a little stressed you know?"

He could see concern in his brother's eyes. "I'm ok, Sam. Really, and tomorrow I'll get us out of here." Sam looked at him, there was something else there in his eyes. "Oh, yeah, Sammy, we'll kill it, too. Don't worry about that. I promise you, it dies." He looked down at his brother. "I think it's playing a different game now. When it comes back…I don't know…I think it might be ready…but it dies, Sam. I promise."

Dean put a little more wood on the fire, the sky was finally getting light, the birds waking, singing with the joy of morning. I wonder when it will come? He heard the wind touching the trees, a gentle sound, comforting. He thought he could see a tiny bit of blue in the sky. The sounds of the forest came alive all around him, called back from their sleep by the coming sun. His eyes were closing, he couldn't stop them. I had better lay down or I'll end up sleeping in the fire. Which would be bad. He shifted his brother off his leg and lay down beside. "Give me five minutes, Sam, then we're out of here." He put a hand on Sam and the inner dark reached out like nightfall and pulled him away.

Consciousness crept into his awareness, slowly, softly. Waking him gently. It was sunny, he could feel the warmth on his back. I have to admit I love this moment, not asleep, not awake, when everything is just right, even the bed is comfortable. More awareness. Of course this bed is the muddy ground. A squirrel was chattering from a tree somewhere. Squirrels found me, I'm done for now. He opened his eyes. The fire was smoldering, just a hint of warmth from the embers. What the hell time is it? The sun was well up in the sky, maybe even past its zenith.

"Morning, Sammy," Dean said automatically. He sat up and pushed a little wood into the coals closest to him. A flame caught. He filled the can with water, broke part of the last chocolate bar into it and put at the edge of the fire to heat. He looked at his brother. Sam's eyes were open. "Hey, Sam, chocolate will be ready in a minute."

"Thanks." Nearly silent, but there, the softest suggestion of sound.

"Sam?"

"Dean?" It took effort, he could see that, the word forced out of his brother. Straining his resources, but still he tried.

Dean realized he was grinning, the first real smile he had felt in what seemed like years. Of course, with the grin he could feel something suspiciously wet in his eyes. Thank god. "Sam?" He turned away, clearing his throat. Oh, no. This is embarrassing. "Chocolate's ready, you want some?" Sam blinked. "Good boy." Dean lifted him up and supported him while they shared the cup of warm liquid.

He put the cup down. "I think you feel a little warmer to me today. How do you feel?" He looked, waiting for the answer in Sam's eyes.

"Don't know," the forced breath.

"Hey, don't talk. I'll figure out what you mean." Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah well—bitch." He smiled at his brother. A squirrel was hopping across the clearing toward them. "Oh, god, here comes one of those damn squirrels. I think they are hunting me, dude."

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean could see the smile there, clearly in his brother's eyes. "Well they are, I gave them some food the other day and now I think they are out to get me." Sam was looking at him. "What, you don't think the squirrels are after me?" Sam blinked. "I am not losing it, Sam. Shut up."

"Are too," the soft whisper.

"Just shut up." he was smiling. He couldn't stop. I think he's going to be ok, maybe. Please. "You want something more to drink? I could try blueberry tea. Yum." Sam looked at him, smiling. "Well, it's something and I'll eat the warm blueberries."

He heated some of the blueberries, the liquid a dark purple. He and Sam shared the cup and another. The sun was moving through the sky, heading towards evening. Sam seemed warmer and had managed to whisper a tiny conversation with him. The effort was exhausting him. "Hey, I need to get firewood for the night, Sammy. Why don't you rest for a minute? I'll be right back."

He grabbed his crutch and pulled himself up, moving out into the clearing. Once there he stopped. Sam couldn't see him here. Pull his pant leg up and looked at his ankle, looked at the wound it had made the night before. It was cold, throbbing, there were…Shit. He let the jeans slide back down and stood up gathering wood, enough wood to get Sam through the night. And maybe the next. He might be able to move a little by then so he could feed the fire. He made several trips piling the wood around them, leaving a small opening he could get in and out through.

He sat back down and pulled Sam against him again. Sam opened his eyes. "I'll get you out of here tomorrow, Sam," he sad.

"No."

"Not leaving you, Sam. Don't even start again."

"Wait."

"For what? We need to get out of here."

"No." Sam looked at him.

"What is it?"

"Not safe."

"I know. But we have to get out of here." Come on, Sam. I need to get you safe. I need to know you're safe before I hunt that thing. Yeah, right.

"No, stay, fight."

"Are you freaking nuts? No, no, sorry Sam. No." He was starting to get angry. "No." He could feel the emotions of the last few days starting to boil in him. "You don't get to hunt this, I won't let you. Sam, I thought…I…no Sam. No."

"Dean."

"No, Sam. No way."

"Too late."

"What?"

"Too late."

And Dean realized it was silent except for the crackle of the fire. The sun was dying in the sky, hiding behind the clouds. Nothing moved, even the whisper of the wind was gone. It was coming. Dean couldn't hear it, but he knew. It was coming. It was coming slowly through the forest, unseen, sliding from darkness to darkness, pulling the light, taking life as it moved through the trees. Its sighing breath all that was left in its wake.

It was coming. He could sense it now at the very edge of his consciousness. It was aware of him, too. He knew it was happy, it was ready. It was coming. The shadow death was coming through the forest, seeking him, knowing where to find him.

He shifted, moving Sam back down.

"Dean, no."

"What?"

"No."

The scream filled the forest, echoing through the trees, a clarion call, the call to battle. The sound rose around them, a great wave, violent, promising death. It was a shriek that had echoed through the ages, the last call to the bloody fields. It was reveling in the sound of its own voice. Dean knew that. It was issuing a challenge, calling him out.

"Dean, no."

It was coming. The call to war, it was ready. Dean pushed himself up on his crutch. If I don't go it will come for Sam. I have to go. I can't wait here. It will come for him, only because it wants me. He knew that, now, too. It wanted him. Not Sam, him. Sam was merely collateral damage as far as it was concerned, a plaything to be discarded. And that changes everything. Sam seems to be improving, he'll be ok. He can get himself out of here, if I go he can get out. If it takes me he'll be ok.

"Dean, please, no."

He dropped down onto one knee. "Sam, I'm sorry. It wants me I think. If I go maybe you can get safe."

"No."

"Sam, I have to give you a chance."

"No, stay. Dean." Sam was crying, the tears running down his face. Dean wiped them away. I need to show him, let him know there's really no hope for me anyway.

"Sammy. It got me last night," he pulled his jeans up, and showed Sam the wound it had made, the cold wound, dark, the poison moving out in black streaks like a spider's web slowly spinning up his leg. "I think I'm dead anyway. Let me at least save you. Please, Sam."

"Dean, no."

"Yes, Sam." He knew he was crying, didn't care if his brother saw. "Goodbye, little brother." He pushed himself up again and stepped outside the fire. He didn't look back. He took one step away from Sam and then another.

"DEAN!" His brother's voice, his voice, oh, god, his voice. Sounding like it had been ripped from him. The grief in that call nearly drove Dean to his knees.

Still he walked on.

The bark sounded, sharp. The forest was growing dark as Dean moved slowly down the hill, down where he thought it was waiting. He could hear it now, the soft sigh, snarling, grunting. Waiting for him. Purring with pleasure. It barked again, the hunting sound.

"Come out and play," he said to the dark trail in front of him. "Here I am."

And he heard it sigh, a new voice, a soft sound. The sound filled him with dread. And he knew without a doubt, the realization moving through him as surely as the poison from its claws moving up his leg. It was ready, its moment had come. It would play only a moment more, then it would be ready to end the game. His death was waiting there. The thought drove his rage, it fed the fear. A great chasm in him now, full of cold, full of darkness. Fear becoming terror, rage becoming vengeance.

He screamed.

To Be Continued