A/N: Sorry this update has taken so long. I won't keep you waiting too long for the rest. I am finishing up the last edits on my novel. I struggled a bit with the beginning, turns out that Sam wanted his POV for Dean's awakening.

In Darkness let Me Dwell

Chapter Eight

Only to lose the shadow of thy joy!

The morning sun was slanting through the curtains, the soft scent of the roses outside the windows drifting into the room. Sam lay still, wondering what woke him. A loud snore from Harry the dog provided the answer. He lifted his head and looked over at the dog. Dean was curled up, his face peaceful. Sam sighed. He looked like Dean, not the nameless victim, but like Dean.

Sam shifted, looking over at the clock. He'd have to get Dean up and head to the clinic in half an hour. I'll let him sleep a little longer. His brother had woken up in the middle of the night, whimpering in fear. Whatever triggered the tears that evening had continued in his dreams. Sam sat with him, comforting, trying to reach him for several hours. Dean had finally dropped back to sleep. Sam managed to steal a few more hours as well. How much longer can I keep this up? As long as I have to.

He dragged himself out of bed, got dressed and headed towards the kitchen, putting a cup of water in the microwave. Sam had started drinking instant. The smell of coffee brewing in a coffeemaker was too much to take. So he'd started drinking instant, switching to flavored coffees when the bitter taste made him nauseous. He'd taken the water out of the microwave and was stirring two spoonfuls of the mix into the water when he heard a car outside. Sam had the door open before Bobby knocked. Shit. The look on Bobby's face was determined. He's going to try and convince me to let Dean go.

It was becoming a theme with the older hunter. Sam could understand Bobby's worry, but he couldn't let go. Now that he had Dean with him, it was impossible to let go. Even if his brother never came back, it didn't matter. Dean had always taken care of him, now it was his turn.

"Sam," Bobby said, stepping in the door.

"Want a cup of coffee, Bobby? I'll have to get Dean up in a minute."

"If coffee is what's in that cup, count me out." Bobby walked through the house to the kitchen. Sam trailed after him. "I wanted to talk about Dean."

"Nothing to talk about, Bobby," Sam said.

"You can't run the task force and take care of him, Sam. You should see yourself, it looks like someone punched you in both eyes."

"I'm getting more rest now that we come to the house every night." Sam realized he rarely used the word home anymore. "I'm okay."

"You are as far from okay as you can get Sam."

"I get it, Bobby, you're worried."

"What are you going to do?" Bobby asked, frustration welling up in his voice. "You can't keep it up, it's killing you."

"I'm managing," Sam said, hearing the exhaustion in his voice. I'm not managing. I'm breaking apart. But what else can I do? It's Dean.

"No, you're not. You can't keep going like this. I won't lose you, too."

"He's not lost," Sam growled, unable to stop the painful twist in his chest.

"He is. The man you knew is gone, you need to…"

"No! I can take care of him." Sam felt anger bubbling in his chest.

"He's dead."

"Dean is not dead." He spaced the words out, trying to calm himself. Before he realized what he was doing, he threw the cup of coffee at the wall, watching as the mug shattered. Sam walked to the door and stood with his back to Bobby. He's not dead. He's Dean. I… Oh, god, what do I do?

"Dean," Bobby said. Sam ignored the older hunter, he was staring out the door, watching the flowers move in the wind. "Dean?" Bobby said again, the tone was completely different, shock, surprise, Sam wasn't sure what he heard in Bobby's voice, but something was different. He was getting ready to turn around and ask.

"Sammy?" A voice whispered. It was harsh, the tone almost unrecognizable. "Sam?"

Sam's heart was slamming against his ribs, his hands started shaking. Hoping against hope, he turned around. Dean stood in the door to the kitchen, looking at him, a frown on his face. Sam looked closely at his brother and gasped. Dean was looking back at him, not like the nameless victim, the one who didn't speak, the one with lost, vacant eyes. No, it was Dean. "Dean?" Sam asked, aware of tears running down his face. "Dean?"

"You're alive," Dean said, tears tracking down his cheeks. Sam walked across the room and pulled his brother against him. "You're alive," Dean said again. His arms wrapped so tightly around Sam it was a little hard to breathe,

"You're here," Sam said in the same moment. "Dean, you're back." You're here, you're you. Oh, god, Dean. His brother looked at him, before Sam could say anything, Bobby had pulled Dean against him. There were tears in the older hunter's eyes.

"Welcome home, son," Bobby said, wiping the tears off his face with one hand.

"You are here?" Sam asked, looking at Dean, searching his eyes. He gave his brother a gentle shake.

"You are alive?" Dean said, his voice teasing. Or that was what Sam thought his brother was trying for, the last word came out as a sob. Sam pulled Dean against him again.

"I've missed you," Sam said, clearing his throat.

"I know, Sammy, me too. God, I thought…" Dean swallowed, his eyes reflected horror. What, Dean? What happened? "I saw…You were…"

"Dean?"

"They… Oh god, Sam." Dean had tears on his face. He took a deep breath, Sam could see him struggling for control.

"It's okay, Dean, it doesn't matter. It's over."

"Sam…"

"What is it, Dean?"

"It's not over, Sammy." Dean leaned against him with a sigh. "It's about to get a lot worse."

"Worse?" Bobby asked. "And just how will it get worse?"

"Dean?" Sam said, watching his brother. Dean's eyes were haunted.

"I made it back."

"Yeah, you did." Sam nudged him with a shoulder.

"No, you don't understand, Sammy. I made it back." Dean frowned. "I remember something about being special. If I survived, I remember…" He closed his eyes, his face paled. "If I came back…"

"Dean what is it?" Sam asked gently.

"It'll come for me again."

"To kill you?" Bobby asked.

"Eventually," Dean said. "But, since I made it back, it can take me again. And if it does, it's going to be bad."

"Bad?" Sam looked at Dean, his brother met his eyes. "That bad?"

"Yeah. It's probably not me, though. I remember there was something about seven entries."

"Seven?" Bobby said, looking at Sam.

"Yeah." Dean paused when they were silent. "Sammy?"

"Dean?"

"How many times?" Dean put his hand on Sam's arm. "I don't remember much after the first one, mostly just the pain."

I'm so sorry. "Seven," Sam managed to get out, he wasn't sure how. "Seven entries, Dean."

"Seven?" Dean whispered, his hand going to the wound on his abdomen. "Sam…" He stopped and took a deep breath. "What's the plan?" he said in an entirely different tone.

"I need to go into the clinic for awhile," Sam said. I don't want to leave Dean, but I have to go in.

"Maybe you should take a day off," Bobby said at the same time.

"No, I need to go in." Sam smiled. "Maybe you can stay here with Dean till I get back."

"NO!" Dean's shout surprised him. Dean's hand had locked around Sam's wrist.

"Just for a couple of hours, Dean," Bobby said. "I'm sure me and that fuzzy beast can keep an eye on you."

"No. I'll go with that one…" Dean stopped himself. "Sam. I'll go with you, Sammy."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Bobby said.

Sam was looking at his brother. Dean's eyes were full of fear. No, terror. He's terrified. "Sure, Dean, you can come. We'll stick to the office." Dean sighed in relief.

"I'll get dressed." Dean smiled and walked out of the room. "Time to get up, Harry," Dean said, his voice drifting into the kitchen.

"Dean and that dog." Sam looked at Bobby. "What?"

"Sam, I don't think it's a good idea to take Dean."

"He needs to go, Bobby. I…" Sam broke off, the idea was ludicrous.

"He's still imprinted, isn't he? Even aware, he needs you," Bobby said, nodding.

"I think so," Sam said softly. "We won't stay long, and you can keep an eye out."

Harry wandered into the kitchen followed by Dean. "I'll be back tonight," Dean said, opening the back door. He patted the dog and Harry walked out. "Ready."

"I still don't think…" Bobby began.

"It's okay," Sam said, grabbing the keys. "Let's head in, the earlier the better." He walked out to the Impala, Dean right behind him. His brother slid into the passenger seat with a sigh, then smiled as Sam got in. As soon as Sam had the ignition on, Dean turned the stereo on, Accept blasted out of the speakers.

"Weird," Dean said, frowning.

"What?"

"I swear that's exactly what I was listening to when they stopped us. I mean the same spot and everything."

"It is," Sam said quietly. Dean looked at him for a long moment. Sam shrugged. Dean, can you tell me what happened when they stopped you?"

"The road was blocked, I slowed down, something hit me."

"Something?" Sam looked over at his brother. "Like?"

"My window was down, they hit me with a dart. I pulled it out as soon as I realized, but it was too late. I was already groggy when they got to the car. Randy was pretty much out." Dean paused. "Randy…"

"We found him."

"Oh."

"What else?"

"Next thing I really remember was waking up where they held us at first."

"There was blood in the car."

"I think…" Dean frowned. "Maybe they cut me? I'm not sure. I was pretty out of it. I remember they tore my necklace off. Just pulled on it till it broke. Hurt, even with the dart."

"Yeah, we found it in the car." Sam made the turn into the clinic. "Are you sure you want to go in, Dean?"

"Yeah." Dean looked out the window. "Bobby's behind us."

"I think he's worried." Sam pulled into the parking spot and got out. Dean followed him through the back door and into the office. Without pausing, Sam walked over and turned on the coffeepot, it started gurgling, the smell of coffee filled the room. "It's probably okay for you to have a little."

"Thanks," Dean said, sinking down in the chair by the desk. Sam poured them coffee and brought a cup to Dean. Someone tapped on the door, Dean's face went white, his hands started shaking. Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah?" Sam said.

"It's CJ, Sam," she said.

"Come in." Sam moved to sit behind the desk.

"I'm glad you're here early. I wanted you to check the latest victim. I think he was entered five times, but I'm not sure," she said with a smile.

"Why not?" Dean asked.

"Sam's the expert," CJ said, then stopped. She looked over at Dean. "Dean?"

"Hi," he said, smiling.

"Hi." Tears gathered in her eyes, she looked back at Sam. "Sam? What happened?"

"I don't know." I have no idea. He went to bed the victim, woke up my brother.

"Wait, you have a new victim?" Dean said, sitting up.

"Yeah, they brought him in yesterday," Sam said, watching as Dean stood up. "Where are you going?"

"I need to see him, Sam."

"Okay, Dean. Hang on." He looked at CJ, he'd been thinking about this since Dean woke up. "Dean thinks it will be back for him, CJ, I need something that will knock him out fast."

"Got it, I'll be right back." She walked out and was back a few seconds later. "Here." She handed him a syringe.

"Thanks. Let's go, let me check the hallway first." Sam opened the door and looked down the corridor, it was empty. He stepped out and gestured Dean to follow. When they reached the room, Sam put a hand on Dean's arm. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yeah, Sammy." Dean opened the door and walked in. Sam heard his sharp intake of breath. "Ah, Nick."

"You know him?"

"Yeah, Nick… Nick… I can't think of his last name. He was a cop in Portales. He was in the room with us."

"You and Randy?" Sam asked, standing beside Dean. His brother was trembling.

"Yeah, and Mitch and George." Dean swallowed and put his hand on Nick's chest. "You're safe." He looked at Sam. "Right?"

"I think so. We're keeping him sedated right now. It's been increasing its attacks, so we decided to keep the few left sedated."

"Not me?"

"No, not you." I couldn't Dean, not once I…

"Sammy?" Dean said after a few moments of silence. "Did I…?"

"What?"

"Did I look like that?"

"Dean…" Sam swallowed. "Yeah."

"And now? Do I still…?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean reached out for him, letting his fingers curl around Sam's wrist. He swayed on his feet.

"Let's get you back to my—our—office." Sam led his brother out of the room. Dean took a last look as the door closed. He was silent on the trip back. Dean sat in the chair and stared off into space. "Dean?" Sam said quietly.

"I… Sam…" He sighed and picked up his coffee cup, sipped and watched Sam. "What's that?" Dean jumped as the fax machine started printing.

"Fax. I turned the ringer off." Sam picked it up. The police in Ruidoso had found a house, one officer had been stung to death by bees. Sam opened the computer and entered the information. He hit the speaker phone and buzzed Dirk. "They found a house in Riudoso. We need to send a team out there as soon as possible."

"Right. We have a team headed back in from a little further south of there, is it okay if I send them to Ruidoso on the way back?"

"Is that Braulio's team?"

"Yeah, they were checking that ranch in the mountains. Said it was a bust. Nothing there, no bodies, they think it might have been a prank."

"We still have to check," Sam said. "Yeah, have then divert to Ruidoso. The cop's name who faxed the report is Jamie Calero."

"I'm on it," Dirk said, breaking the connection.

Sam sighed and shuffled the papers, lining them up along the side of the desk. Ruidoso? That's a long way out, but if a cop was stung to death, it has to be related. He picked up the report Ronny had brought him the day before, thumbing through it. Nothing that helps.

"Did you just give Dirk orders?" Dean's voice broke into his thoughts.

"What?"

"Did you just give Dirk orders?"

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"Huh," Dean said, shifting in the chair. Sam waited for a moment, but Dean was quiet. Sam turned back to the papers. There was so much to do and, frankly, he'd let some of it slide since they'd found Dean. He glanced at Dean, his brother had his eyes closed, a frown on his face. "What?" Dean asked.

Sam smiled. "Nothing."

"So, how's it going?" Dean said, opening his eyes and looking at Sam. "You any closer to finding this thing?"

"We know a little more, we've found other house. Ronny discovered what the nests were. We found a couple of broken bowls." Sam sigh, restlessly moving the papers around. "But not much. We need to find someone who can tell us more. Damn, I wish the victims could talk to us."

"Sam?"

"What?" Sam said absently, still sorting through the papers.

"I can talk."

"What?" Sam looked at the papers, realization suddenly curling through him. Oh my god. "Dean?"

"Ask me, maybe I can help."

"I…" Sam swallowed.

"You have to just pretend I'm one of them, a victim, nothing more," Dean said with a smile.

"What?" Sam whispered. No, no. Something in Sam broke. All the carefully controlled emotion, all the tension, everything that had kept him going, kept him focused was suddenly demanding a way out. "Bathroom." He got up and walked to the small room, carefully closing the door behind him. Once he was sure it was shut, he put his head in his hand, sliding down the wall, tears overflowing his eyes. Oh god, I let him just be a victim. How could I do that to him? How could I ever… Oh, god, Dean. I…He's back, but… Relief mixed with grief and guilt, it was almost too much. He was so wrapped up, he didn't hear the door open.

"Sammy?" Dean said quietly, sitting down beside him.

"I'm so sorry," Sam said through his hands.

"What?"

"Oh god, Dean." Sam leaned against his brother, needing the contact. Dean put his arm over Sam's shoulders. "I… Dean, I said…" Sam swallowed. "I said…"

"It's okay, Sam, whatever it was. It's okay."

"I said…"

"It doesn't matter, Sammy." Dean gave him a little shake.

"Dean…" Sam lifted his head out of his hands and looked at his brother. Dean was frowning in concern, but there was something else. "Are you in pain?" Dean hesitated. "Dean? Let me check the wound."

"It's not that." Dean batted his hands away. "Well, that hurts, but that's not it."

"What is it?" Sometimes I want to strangle you Dean, even now, right after I got you back.

"Talking." Dean swallowed.

"What?"

"Talking hurts." Dean looked at him. "Not my throat, I mean it actually hurts. They made it clear I wasn't supposed to, and after… after… that first time, I couldn't. It hurt too much."

"And it still does?"

"Yeah." Dean smiled lopsidedly at him. "It's okay, it's better than the alternative." He nudged Sam with his elbow. "You ready to get out of here? My ass is asleep."

Sam chuckled and stood, gently pulling Dean to his feet, then steadying him as he swayed. Dean walked back to the chair by the desk, sitting down so he could watch Sam and the large window behind the desk. Sam got them both another cup of coffee and sat down.

"So?" Dean said.

"So? What?"

"What do you want to know? I'll do my best, some of it's kind of fuzzy."

"It can wait," Sam said, looking at Dean.

"Sam…"

"It can wait a minute or two. You need to rest. You should have told me it hurts to talk."

"It's okay. Really, before you open your mouth." Dean sighed. "Coffee helps."

"You think coffee helps everything."

"It does."

"Right. Do you remember that time when I was sixteen? I was hurt on the hunt, bleeding, in shock and you made coffee while we waited for dad and Bobby to get help?"

"It made you feel better didn't it?"

"Yeah, actually it did. I kept thinking it couldn't be that bad, not if you were making coffee like nothing was wrong." Sam smiled, Dean smiled back, his eyes drifting to the window.

"There are more flowers out there than I remember," Dean said after a few moments.

"The hibiscus started blooming last week." Is Dean talking about flowers?

"Is that one the red one?" Dean asked, he got up and walked to the window.

"Yeah, it is."

"There were some of those there. During the ritual where…" Dean swallowed. "The table was covered with flowers. There were some of those mixed in."

"Are you sure?" Sam looked at Dean, his brother was frowning, lost in a memory. Dean's jaw was clenching, he nodded. "Do you remember any of the others?"

"Why? Uh… maybe. I'm not sure. If I could see them again I would."

"Maybe I can track the flowers, see what they are used for, see what… Dean what is it?" His brother had suddenly gone white. Dean's hand latched onto his arm in a painful grip. "Dean?"

"No," Dean whispered, his voice full of layer upon layer of fear. "No."

"What is it?" Sam tried to draw Dean away from the window, his brother refused to move. "Dean?"

"It's here," Dean said. He was trembling.

"The alarm hasn't gone off."

"Oh, god, it sees me."

"What?" Sam followed his brother's glance. A large hummingbird was hovering right outside the window.

"Sammy, it's here, you have to… Oh god, please…" Dean recoiled from the window, tearing at his shirt. "No! Please! I'm sorry, please, no!" He stumbled back, Sam caught him. Dean's eyes were wild with fear. "Sammy, it's here, you have to believe… OH GOD STOP!" Dean tore at his chest. Sam thought he saw movement under Dean's skin. "I said I was sorry! PLEASE! STOP!"

"Dean, give me your arm!" Sam pulled the syringe and slipped the needle into Dean's arm.

"Sam…" Dean was sobbing in fear as he fell. Sam caught him and lowered him onto the chair.

"If you're out, it can't find you, Dean."

"Sam, don't let it… If… Does… Kill…" Dean's eyes closed as his body relaxed.

The alarm started blaring.

To Be Continued