A/N: Sorry this update took a little longer than usual. I am flat up against the deadline for my novel, so I was frantically working on that. Until Sam and Dean got a little pesky and wouldn't leave me alone! Thank you everyone for your patience and reviews. They mean a lot!

Welcome to the Jungle

Chapter Ten

The fire snapping broke the silence. The soft sounds of the night were whispering around them. Something squeaked in the forest above them, something was rustling in the leaves of the orchard. A quiet figure slipped through the trees, a pregnant doe, her body heavy, her steps nearly silent. Sam could hear the demons moving around in the forest outside of the ring of cultivated land. A shouting bark, a laugh, bounced through the forest.

"How bad is it?" Sam asked softly. "And Dean? Don't bother saying it's not bad. I can feel the thing moving under my scalp." Sam watched his brother's face. Dean schooled his features, but not before Sam saw complete panic in his brother's eyes.

"Bad," he said. "But it should be easier to get off your head. Nice hard bone, nothing to latch on, too."

Sam raised a hand towards the back of his head. Dean slapped it away. "You have to get that off me."

"Oh, you think?" Dean tried for an annoyed chuckle, it very nearly worked. "Let me get that spear point and some better light." Dean put their lantern on the rock and pumped it up, lighting it and adjusting the flame on the mantles. The hiss of the pressurized light added a small bit of civilization to the inky night. Sam heard Dean swallow convulsively.

"Cutting the stitches might make it easier, Dean."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Nothing. Do you want a drink? Did it help last time?"

"Yeah, it did," Sam said, reaching for the flask Dean offered him. "Do you need one?" he asked, then smiled. Dean looked sick. "Or would you like to lose dinner first?" He took a sip from the flask. "You look a little green."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean growled and gave him a little shove.

"Well you…" Sam broke off as he felt one of the tendrils wriggling its way down his skull. The movement made him gag, he tried to keep his hands still, he wanted reach up and tear the thing away himself. "Hurry, Dean. It's moving."

"Yeah, I can see." Dean swallowed again and pushed Sam's head forward with shaking hands. Sam felt the touch of the knife as Dean began cutting through the stitches in his scalp.

"Shit that hurts."

"Maybe you should take another drink and bite on a stick."

"So I'll shut the hell up?" Sam asked through clenched teeth.

"That's the idea." Dean paused. Sam felt him poke at the growth, pain shot down through his jaw line. "Sorry."

Sam took a drink. "It's okay, Dean." The tendril was slowly creeping down his skull. Sam could feel the end of it weaving back and forth, like it was searching for something. Realization curled through him, fear upon fear. No, oh god, please no. "Foramen magnum," he said, the panic filtering through his voice.

"Planning an exorcism, there, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"It's the opening at the base of the skull. The one cannibals enlarge when they eat human brains."

"You are such a geek."

"Dean! It's looking for a way into my brain."

"Oh," Dean said calmly, his hands suddenly ice cold against Sam's head. "We better get it off then."

"Yeah." The thing was moving back and forth, inching closer and closer. "Dean, please."

"I'm hurrying," Dean said quietly, his hands had stopped shaking.

A surge of pain from the back of his head forced a groan. He fumbled around for a stick. Biting my tongue off is not a good idea. The thought was fuzzy, the effects of the alcohol working their way through his body. He clamped down on the stick as Dean started cutting on the fungus. The tendril shot down his skull, Sam felt the bite of the knife low down on his scalp. The wriggling stopped for a moment, the agony increased. The other growths on his body, in reaction to the surgery on his scalp, drove into his muscles, twisting their way further into open wounds. Sam groaned, it slowly increased until he could hear himself screaming as he bit down on the stick. He felt it snap in his mouth.

"Almost done," Dean said urgently and Sam felt his brother's hand close around the growth and start to pull, the tendrils tried to drive their way into his skull, the others burrowed into his body, hanging on as Dean pulled the thing from his scalp. The agony increased, Sam couldn't stop the scream. "Faint, Sammy, come on," Dean said under his breath. Sam wasn't sure if he was meant to hear the quiet words. The hands dropped from the back of his head. Sam opened his eyes to look at Dean. His brother gently pulled the stick from his mouth. "Sorry, Sammy."

"What?" Sam asked as Dean's fist shot out and connected, there was a flash of pain and then nothing.

Consciousness returned slowly. First there was only an awareness of the cool air against his face and the smell of coffee. Then pain found him, running through his body with an ache, deep down, resonating in his bones. A cool hand touched his forehead, he heard Dean sigh, then footsteps moving away from him. Sam opened his eyes, the clearing was still lit by the lantern. He was closer to the fire than before, propped up against a log. Stars sparkled in the sky, the moon was up, hanging low in the horizon. Dean was pacing along the edge of the clearing, stopping to peer into the orchard as he moved.

"Dean?" he called softly.

"Sam?" Dean turned around and walked quickly back to him. "How do you feel?"

"Did you punch me?" Sam asked, rubbing a hand across his jaw.

"Yeah." Dean ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay, Dean," he said softly, trying to remove the look of guilt from his brother's face.

"I couldn't think of anything else to do, Sam, and those things, I could see them…" Dean swallowed.

"I know." Sam shifted, lifting the sleeping bag and pulling up his shirt. The growths were gone, only black ooze covering the bandages. "Did you get them all?" Lie, Dean, tell me it's going to be okay, like the time when we were kids.

"Yeah." Dean dropped down beside him, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Thanks." Sam looked up at the moon, watching a cloud drift in front of it. Something was niggling at his mind. "The ritual!"

"What?" Dean looked at him with a frown.

"The ritual, for the…"

"The magical sword? Yeah, been there, done that." Dean sounded aggrieved.

"Why does it bother you?" Sam asked, taking the cup of coffee Dean handed him.

"Why does what bother me?"

"The machete."

Dean sighed, he sounded weary, resigned, exhausted beyond his ability to cope. "Because it's a freaking magical sword to fight freaking orcs."

"We use magical items all the time, Dean," Sam said reasonably.

"Not magical swords, Sam."

What's going on, Dean? Well? Something is bothering you, what? "Dean?"

His brother ran a hand over his face. "I…" He reached for the coffee pot again, Sam put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"You need to sleep."

"No, I'm okay."

"You need sleep, Dean," Sam said, watching Dean's face. His brother was shaking his head. You need sleep, damn it. Sam sighed, he hated to do it, but he knew it was the only way to get his brother to rest. "You have to…"

"No, I'm fine."

"You're exhausted. How many times have you told me tired people make mistakes, Dean? Risking me is fine, but I won't let them kill you because you refuse to sleep." It was unfair and he knew it, he knew what Dean would latch on to in that statement.

"Risking you…?" Dean scrubbed a hand across his face again. "You're right, I can't afford to play with your life. I need to sleep. They can't get in here. Okay. An hour, then wake me?"

"Sure, Dean," Sam said. And I'm lying to you, I'll let you sleep till morning if possible.

"Thanks." Dean leaned back against the log Sam was propped against. "An hour, Sammy, no more." He shifted so his shoulder was in contact with Sam, dropped his head back against the log and was asleep before Sam could answer.

Sam looked at the fire, a spark drifted lazily up into the sky, blending with the bright points of light. A sound to his left pulled his attention away from the stars. He glanced over, something big was moving through the orchard. The wind brought a musky scent into the clearing. Bear. He wasn't sure why he recognized the scent, but he was sure that was what was out there. Sam watched the shadow as it skirted the clearing, careful to stay in the fruit trees. He saw the bright sparkle of its eyes before it moved away. Glad I didn't panic and wake Dean.

Sam shifted. He had the oddest urge to get up and follow the bear through the fruit trees, out to where the orcs were working. That can't be good. The journal was sitting on the pack, he could just grab it without shifting enough to wake Dean. He flipped to the pages about the forest demons and began reading the last part of their father's entry. The part he hadn't mentioned to Dean, the part that was terrifying him now, the part his father had copied some of an older text.

The forest demons do not increase their numbers through procreation, but rather through a form of possession. Lore states that they transform humans in order to increase the population. The rate of the transition is not mentioned call Bobby? nor if there is a way to reverse the "possession." Resistance seems to result in death. See Lackland for ref. The groups are mobile and regularly move to new territory. Now that they are gone from where the boys encountered them—where are they? Which way would they go? Check missing hiker reports.

There were several notes and clippings about hikers going missing. Starting in the Rocky Mountains where they'd first run into them, then slowly moving West. Does dad suspect they're here? Sam felt the first whisper of something in his shoulder. He looked down, the thing was growing again, a tendril snaking in to the wound. Sam pulled at it, pain ran down the slash in his side like molten lava. They're all growing again. I don't have much time. He pulled the pen out of the spine of the journal and started making notes just in case something happened before Dean was awake.

XXX

Sunlight woke him. The first rays of the morning sun against his eyelids pulled him from a dream of a smoky bar. Dean shifted, still more asleep than awake, the warmth next to him moved. Dean pulled himself a little further from sleep and realized he could smell fresh coffee. He opened his eyes. Sam was leaning forward, peering into the coffee pot.

"Watched coffee never boils, Sammy," Dean said, sitting up.

"Hey." Sam turned around with a smile. "How do you feel?"

"Like you let me sleep too damn long." Dean frowned. "I told you an hour."

"I overruled you."

"You don't get that as an option, Sam." He deepened his frown.

Sam grinned. "I'm scared now."

"What?"

"That's your scary 'you better do what I say or else' look. I'm scared." Sam chuckled.

"Very funny. I mean it. What if something had happened?" Dean demanded. Sam looked away, guilt crossing his face. "Sam? What?"

"Nothing happened. I would have let you know."

"Sam?"

"There was a bear. He was around most of the night. And they tossed a couple of spears in. They're over there." Sam pointed to the spears lying about ten feet from the fire. "I don't think they can see us though, and were trying to maybe aim at the fire?"

"You should have got me up," Dean said, standing and walking to the weapons lying on the ground. The spear point glittered in the morning light. Dean picked one up. It was dripping with a dark liquid. He sniffed it, it smelled like what Sam had vomited up after the demons had forced him to drink the contents of the skin. What are they doing? Trying to give Sam more of that stuff? Why? What's going on? He paced to the edge of the clearing, looking towards the sound of activity.

"What are they doing?" Sam asked.

"I can't quite see." Dean turned and walked back to the fire. "Smells like the coffee's ready." He pulled the pot out of the fire and poured a cup for himself and Sam. "You shouldn't have let me sleep so long, Sam." I did need the sleep and we're safe here.

"Why not? We're safe in here, they seem less active at night. You needed the sleep."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Nothing." Dean looked at Sam. His bother had dark circles that stretched from under his eyes down his cheeks—black eyes on a bruised cheek. Sam's hands were shaking so badly he could barely keep the cup still enough to sip at the coffee. Deep lines of pain grooved his mouth. Oh god, Sammy. I'll get you out of here. "You find anything in the journal?" He reached for the book. Sam tried to grab it away. Dean snatched it out of his brother's hand.

"Dean…" Sam put his hand over Dean's, stopping him from opening the journal. "We need to talk."

Oh god. I know that tone. I've heard it before. "Don't say you're dying again. I told you, we aren't discussing that."

"I think it's worse than that, Dean. They're growing again."

Dean looked up and met his brother's eyes. There was something wild lurking there, something terrified, something panicked. Sam was hiding something. "Sammy?"

"Dean…I…"

The scream that broke the quiet of the forest was loud enough to startle a bird from the trees. A squirrel shot across the clearing, fleeing from the sound. Dean was up before he realized he'd moved. The scream had come from the other side of the fruit trees where the orcs were working on their trebuchet. No, I have to stay with Sam. Another scream, louder, terrified, definitely human. He ground his teeth together. "Sam…"

"Go, Dean, it'll only take a minute. I'm safe for now."

Dean picked up the machete, the apple wood spear and grabbed the binoculars from the pack. "Stay here. Remember what we talked about?"

"Yeah, stay here, even if you start screaming bloody murder, stay put," Sam said sourly.

"Right." Dean was moving through the trees as another scream ripped through the quiet forest. He edged along from trunk to trunk, trying to mask his movements. That way if the freaking orc decide to lob a spear in here, they might miss me completely. He worked his way around the orchard so he could stay in the cover and safety of the fruit trees. There was another scream and then a desperate whimpering someone repeating "no" over and over again. The orcs' barking laugh followed closely after the last scream. Dean eased out of the trees to see down where the demons were working. The freaking trebuchet's finished. Great. Nice stockpile of stones there too. Oh my god.

A human, or what was left of one, was hanging from a tree, bloody wounds still dripping. From the way the body was hanging Dean could tell she was dead. Bait like Sammy? Or is it something different. Oh god, is it like they're aging meat?

It was the other person he spotted that held him riveted to his spot. A man, his age, maybe a little younger. One orc was holding him up, the other was pouring the black liquid from a skin into the man's mouth. Dean could see the black fungus already growing on the man. The demons were laughing. When the skin was empty they dropped the man on the ground.

Dean moved closer. Steadying his hand against a branch, he looked through the binoculars at the man. The fungus was growing quickly. Getting it out of Sam was a good idea. I wonder if that was this guy's first dose? Dean could see one growth on the back of the man's head. It looked like the one he'd cut off Sam.

Through the high-power binoculars Dean could make out the wriggling tendril as it slid through the man's hair and down his head. It looked like an earthworm searching for a way back into the ground. As Dean watched the tendril reached the bottom of the man's skull. There was a rush of blood, the man screamed, stiffened and relaxed. The fungus practically exploded, quickly engulfing the man's body until he was completely covered, looking like a mat of dark mushrooms and soil resting on the forest floor. One of the demons came over and nudge the mass with its toe. It said something to the other, then walked over towards the woman's body, pulling out a knife. Dean turned away before they started butchering her.

He walked quickly back through the trees, the walk becoming a run as the realization of what he'd witness began filtering through his brain. Panic drove him to a mad dash through the trees. "Sam! Sammy!" He burst through the trees and ran into his brother. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, pushing away from Sam.

"You're the one screaming," Sam said, running anxious eyes over him. "What's wrong?"

Dean looked at his brother. One of the black growths was wriggling around on Sam shoulder. What he'd witness blended with what he was seeing. The coffee decided it had hung around long enough. He was aware of Sam's trembling hand on his back as he vomited. When he was finished he stood and pulled Sam towards the fire.

"Dean what it is? What happened?" Sam sat back down on the sleeping bag. "Dean?"

Dean ignored his brother, grabbing the obsidian spear point and the alcohol. "Have to get them off." Oh god, I can't can I. It's in him, no matter what I do, oh god, oh god. I can't get them off.

"I don't think you can," Sam said gently.

"Stop that," Dean growled.

"Stop what?"

"Stop—never mind," Dean said. His brother looked at him with a frown. "I need to get them off."

"Dean, what did you see?"

"Sam…" I can't tell you. If I tell you it makes it real.

"Would it help if I said I probably know?" Sam reached for the journal, flipping the pages open. "I…I found this last night." Dean looked down at the book. His father's handwriting, a copy of a woodcut, the picture finally made sense. He'd noticed it before, but had taken the drawing to be a fresh grave. Now he understood, it was the remains of a human being, consumed by the black fungus. "It's how they propagate," Sam said quietly.

"Orc eggs?" Dean kept his voice calm. Which is a good trick. I want to scream. He pulled the flask out. "You wan t a sip, or should I just hit you?"

"You can't keep cutting those things off for the rest of my life, Dean,"

"Yeah, I can." Dean pushed Sam's head forward. The fungus was already covering the wound again, the first tiny tendrils snaking through Sam's hair, wriggling under his scalp. Dean swallowed down the rush of nausea.

"At least you'll get a chance to see if the machete or the spear works before you face more than one."

That better not mean what I think it means. "Shut up. That is not even a little funny, or ironic or anything else." He stopped as one of the tendrils wriggled across his hand. Dean grabbed it and sliced it in two. Sam moaned in pain. "Sorry. I have to get this off, Sam."

"Dean…"

"You are getting out of here alive, Sam." There's no other option. "Even if I have to fight every freaking orc on the planet. And you know that gets better every time I say it. Orcs. How the hell did orcs end up here?" He slid the knife under the edge of the growth. Sam tensed. "Sorry."

"It's okay, Dean, get it off. I can feel it." Under the calm tone, Dean heard complete panic and horrified terror in his brother's voice. "Dean, please don't let me become…"

"I won't, that's what we're working on." Another tendril worked its way across his hand, stabbing into the flesh with a sharp point. "Son of a bitch." Dean cut it off and started back on the fungus. The roots were multiplying faster this time. "Sorry," he said when Sam yelped in pain.

"Don't let me…"

"Shut up, Sam."

"Dean, there's one…" Sam said, his voice completely panicked.

"I see it." Dean could see the tendril working its way under Sam's scalp. "This will hurt at bit." He shoved the knife into the tendril. The bottom half stopped wriggling.

"Dean!"

He looked down, another fungus had appeared on Sam's scalp, below the first. Dean cut it off. Sam groaned, the sound working its way towards a scream. "Sorry," he whispered. "There's no time to put you out, Sam, sorry." He felt his brother's nod under his hand. Another tendril slipped under his hand. Dean cut it off.

"Too late," Sam whispered. "Dean, I'm sorry."

"What?" Dean said, cutting another piece from the growth. Then he felt it. There was no way to stop them, there were too many, it was too late. They had worked their way under his frantic hands. He stabbed madly at the writhing roots, trying to stop them. He felt the one that slipped to the base of Sam's skull. He sliced it in two, but another had made its way down and another.

Sam screamed.

Dean caught his brother as the tremor made muscles rigid. He held him as Sam tried to fight what was happening. Held him as Sam relaxed and the black growths covered his brother's body with amazing speed.

"Sammy?" he whispered.

No, please no. Oh god. Please no.

To Be Continued