Chapter Ten

Dean absentmindedly tapped his ring against the steering wheel echoing the rhythm of Stairway to Heaven as he drove, his thoughts solely on Sam and how to save him. Angelina hadn't exactly been forthcoming with any information on how Dean was supposed to help his brother when he'd given her the things she'd asked him to buy.

"They'll be there when you need them," was all she said, when he'd asked what they were for.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Dean shivered, a cold unnatural draft filling the car. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled. Something touched his face . . . as soft as a cool breeze. Sam? Dean's fingers instinctively moved to his face as he wistfully bit down on his lower lip.

He could have sworn he'd heard Sam's throaty laughter, sensed his fear.

"Dean." It was Sam's voice, although it sounded distant and muffled.

That's not possible. It can't be Sammy. Dean glanced into his review mirror. His brother lay motionless, his eyes tightly shut, head cradled in Angelina's lap. Dean's brows pulled together, his eyes misting as he held his breath and waited until he saw Sam's chest slowly rise, and then fall. "Hold on, Sammy. Don't you dare quit on me, dude." Dean let out a deep ragged breath, and returned his vision to the road ahead.

I won't.

Dean's fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening. Damn it, Sammy, where are you. He might have been mistaken the first time, but this time he definitely heard Sam's voice. I'm holding you to that, Sam.

"How much further?" Angelina asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"Not much, about another ten minutes or so."

"Could you go a little faster?"

In answer to her question, Dean pressed harder on the gas peddle, maneuvering along the mountainous roads with expert skill. "Is he — "

"He's waiting for you, Dean."

Dean didn't like the way that sounded. It felt too final as if Sam was waiting to say goodbye.

You promised, Sam. I'm not gonna let you break your word.

Dean trained his vison on the road ahead, watching as trees and houses whisked by in a blur. Unspent tears stinging his eyes as he tried to block out any thought that didn't included Sam being okay.

Dean turned onto Green Bridge Road, honking his horn to scatter a group of deer crossing the road. He drove over a bridge, the last bit of sunlight shimmering off the cold black water of the Moose River, then turned into a small alcove off to the right, and parked the car.

Dean stepped out of the Impala and took a deep breath. The air felt thick and unnatural, the strong scent of sulfur assailed his senses, nearly gagging him. He peered into the forest and could've sworn he saw the darkened image of a man with expansive wings and glowing crimson eyes staring back at him. Demonic laughter carried on the strong breeze. Dean blinked and when he looked again it was gone.

Dean inclined his head, and nodded in the direction of the demon. "Laugh all you want now, you sorry sonuvabitch, cause I'm coming for you."

He strode around to the truck, popped it open and began methodically checking and loading his weapons, glancing up as Angelina came to his side.

"You aren't going to need any of those, Dean."

"I know how to do my job, Angelina," Dean said, not looking up at her, his voice hard and determined. "You of all people should know that."

"They won't do you any good." She placed a calming hand on his arm to stop him from what he was doing.

Dean cocked his head to the side and stared at her for a long moment, the muscle in his jaw jerking erratically. "What do you expect me to do? March back in there totally unarmed, carrying my dying brother in my arms with nothing more to protect him with then some dumb brass incense holder and a ring."

Angelina returned his steady gaze, unflinching. "Yeah, Dean, that's exactly what I expect you to do."

He shook his head. "Not gonna happen, Sweetheart."

"Then you'll lose."

"You don't know that."

"I'm an angel, Dean, what don't I know? All I'm asking you to do is have faith . . . it's not that hard to do."

Dean stood, drumming his fingers vehemently against the hood of the Impala, undecided. His father would never have gone into a hunt without being prepared. John had taught Dean everything he knew about the supernatural, however none of what his father knew included dealing with stubborn angels. Dad, why couldn't you be here? Sammy needs you . . . I need you.

"Fine." He slammed the trunk closed. "Happy now?"

Angelina smiled and held out her hand. "The knife, Dean."

"What knife?"

"The one in your pocket." She gestured to his right side.

Dean grimaced, snatched the knife from his pocket and handed it to her. "I gotta warn ya, Angelina, there had better be good strong coffee and M&Ms in heaven cause after I get done having my ass kicked all over this forest, I'm gonna be a bit on the cranky side."

"You'll do just fine. Now go and get your brother."

Dean eased Sam out of backseat, pulled him into a standing position and leaned him against the car. Sam's head drooped forward, his chin resting on his chest, thick brown waves of hair covering his eyes. Dean brushed Sam's hair to the side. "Dude, you seriously need a haircut."

Dean hooked his arm around his brother's waist and was about heft Sam over his shoulders into a fireman's carry when Angelina stopped him.

"I'll carry him, Dean."

"What?"

"I said, I'll carry your brother."

"No one carries Sammy except me."

"Stop being so darn obstinate, Dean." Angelina crossed her arms, tapped her foot impatiently, and glowered at him. "Look, we both know it's a long walk and although you'd rather die then admit it, Sam's a lot heavier than he looks."

Dean glared at her defiantly, waiting for her to back down.

"You need your strength to fight Belial," Angelina cajoled "I promise you nothing can harm Sam while he's in my arms."

Dean finally nodded, conceding defeat. "Dealin' with demons is a helluva lot easier than dealin' with you . . . you know that? If they piss me off, I can just shoot the sonsuvbitches."

Angelina grinned, gently pushing Dean aside, she carefully lifted Sam into her arms.

They walked in silence along the overgrown path. Strong, bitter winds pushed hard at Dean's side, knocking him off the muddy trail several times. Angelina marched onward, unaffected in the slightest by the unnatural wind. Sam's head was cradled against her chest with her face gently touching his forehead; a pale golden shimmering light enshrouded them both. And reluctantly, Dean was forced to admit to himself Sam was safer with her then with him.

At the edge of a grouping of old oak trees, Angelina stopped and handed Sam over into Dean's outstretched arms. "I can't go any further. The rest is up to you and Sam."

"What?"

"I have to leave you now." Tears glistened in her green-blue eyes and a sad smile crossed her face as she stared at Sam. "I have faith you will do the right thing."

Dean glanced down at his brother, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, his heart in his throat. "You're not telling me something, are you?" His own voice sounded high pitched and strained to his ears.

"Sometimes we are given choices which seem to be the answers to our prayers, but no matter how good they may sound at the time, we can't allow ourselves to even consider them."

"I don't understand." Dean's brows pulled together, his eyes narrowing, upper lip quivering.

"Belial only needs one of you. You or Sam . . . he'll try and take you both, but he doesn't need to. If either of you give in to him . . ." She hesitated, drawing in a deep breath then slowly releasing it. "It's not just you who will suffer for it, but everyone. Everyone, Dean."

Dean's grip tightened around Sam. Tears welled in the corner of his eyes. His mind reeling, angry heat flushing his face. "So all this talk of having faith, saving Sammy, what was that?!" he exploded. "Don't bring any weapons, Dean . . . you won't need them . . . what are we to you — just lambs to the slaughter?"

"I know it's not fair, Dean. And I don't expect you to understand —"

"What? Were you guys bored up there so you thought, 'hey lets screw with the Winchester's! Like our lives weren't messed up enough already."

"Dean —"

"No," he shook his head adamantly, "I don't want to hear anything else you have to say . . . I'm gonna save my brother — with or without your help."

"Sometimes saving them means letting them go, Dean."

"I can't do that — won't do that."

"Then Belial has already won . . . destroy the heart — win the soul. He doesn't need Sam — he's already has you." Tears fell down her cheeks unchecked as she stepped back and disappeared in a burst of brilliant white-hot flames. Wispy, chilled fog rose from where Angelina had stood, growing and sprawling outward to blanket the forest.

Dean shifted Sam in his arms, his tautly strained muscles protesting against the weight. He turned and entered the copse of trees. Trudging to the spot where he'd found his brother a few days before, Dean gently leaned Sam against the tree. He sat beside him, protectively wrapped his arm around Sam's back, and pulled him closer. You're gonna be okay, Sammy.

"We're here, Sammy," Dean's voice hitched in his throat, tears blurring his vision. "It's just you and me . . . open your eyes."

Sam felt Dean's presence the moment he stepped into the small clearing surrounded by gnarled old oak trees. Dean. His face faltered briefly before a brilliant smile lit his features. In an instant, he was at his brother's side, kneeling.

He touched Dean's shoulder, and Dean shivered, his grip on Sam's body stiffening in response. Sam drew back, and grasped onto his own ghostly shoulder. I felt that Dean! I actually felt that.

"Dean."

"Sammy?" Dean called out, his stormy eyes searching the small expanse, desperately trying to see Sam. "Damn it, Sammy . . . answer me!"

"I'm right here."

Suddenly, Sam doubled over, his insides felt as if they were being turned inside out. Stark pain ripped through his right shoulder, his broken ribs throbbed viciously. Oh, God, Dean! It hurts. His vision blurring to a red haze as he felt himself being yanked back inside of his body. He choked out a sob, biting down hard on his lip.

"Dean." Sam cried out, his voice hoarse and raspy.

"I'm here, Sammy." Dean quickly repositioned Sam so his head rested in the crook of Dean's arm. "I gotcha, little brother."

Sam tried to open his eyes, but his left eye was swollen shut. The best he could manage was a narrow squint, but it was enough. He could see Dean. Could feel strong arms holding him, protecting him. Relief to see his brother changed rapidly to fear when he noticed the weary, defeated look on his brother's face. Their eyes locked briefly then Dean turned away.

Sam licked his swollen, split lip, tasting dried, salty blood. "Did we — " he winced, holding his breath until the pain eased up slightly. "Did we win, Dean?"

"Not exactly, Sammy."

"Oh," was all Sam could manage to say, his mind so garbled, the pain so intense he had trouble holding onto a single thought. Sam shivered, a cold draft prickling the flesh on his legs. He glanced down and noticed for the first time that he was barefoot and wearing a hospital gown.

"Dean, I'm wearing a hospital gown."

"Yeah."

Sam waited for Dean to explain. Waited for him to look at him, but Dean remained silent, his eyes darting back and forth as he scanned the woods for any signs of danger.

"Dude . . . why am I wearing the stupid hospital gown?"

"You've been in the hospital for the past few days."

Sam couldn't understand the cold distance in Dean's voice or why he refused to look at him. It just wasn't like Dean not to jump at the chance to make some witty comment, to flash a rakish grin, and let Sam know everything was going to be all right. Is he mad at me? As hard as he tried, Sam couldn't think of any reason why Dean would be acting like this. Did I do something wrong?

"You okay, Dean?"

"Yeah, m'okay."

Sam stared hard at him through his one good eye, feeling his brother's body tense under such close scrutiny. "You're sure," Sam asked again, swallowing hard, he tasted blood in the back of his throat. "I . . . I didn't do something wrong, did I?"

"No, dude," Dean said with a single shake of his head. "I'm just tired." Dean ran his hand along the length of his haggard face and rubbed his eyes.

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Excruciating pain, tore through his body, and ravaged his mind. His back arching, he screamed out in pain over and over again.

Dean's grip tightened around Sam, pulling him closer, strong hands trembling. "Don't you quit on me, Sammy! Don't you dare! You promised!"

Sam clutched his chest, blood soaking through the thin material of the hospital gown and oozing out beneath his fingertips. His head slammed back forcefully against Dean's shoulder. "Oh, God, it hurts so much, Dean," Sam sobbed, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his lips.

"Come on, Sammy . . . fight for me!" Dean's tone turned fierce even as his face crumpled, his lower jaw quivered. "You can't leave me."

"Sam, your brother needs you," came Belial's cool seductive voice as he plunged dagger-sharp nails deep into Sam's chest once more, more blood spilling from the wound. "He doesn't even have to know we're having this little talk. He won't have to know. Give me your soul and I'll make all the pain go away. For you. For Dean. You're hurting him, Sam. Do it for Dean, Sam. He can't live without you."

"I-I can't." Sam's voice hitched, his chest heaving as another torrent of searing pain ripped through his body.

"You have to, Sammy," Dean cried, his voice muffled as he buried his face in Sam's hair. "You have to hold on. I need you to stay with me."

"You see, Sam. He'll die without you," Belial coaxed. "You can save him — he would do it for you." Belial smiled as he dug his claws deeper into Sam's chest. "One word from you, Sam. One word is all it takes to save your brother."

"Let go, Sam," came a soft angelic voice. "Just let go. Your sacrifice will not go unnoticed."

Sam peered up, and through his blinding pain saw an angel haloed in brilliant white light, and in his heart Sam knew this moment. Knew what he had to do. With a curt nod of his head he looked up at his brother.

"I never gave up, Dean . . . never gave in."

"I know." Dean's green eyes glistened with tears, his lips tightly pursed against his teeth as he nodded bravely. "I'm proud of you, Sammy."

"I-I'm sorry, Dean." He choked on a sob, brown eyes pleading with Dean to understand. "I don't want to leave you. I have to." Sam drew a ragged breath as he clutched onto Dean's jacket. "I love ya, Dean."

"I love you too, Sammy," Dean cried out, crushing Sam against his chest.

Sam took one more staggering breath and then let go accepting release from his pain even as he accepted his fate. His body relaxed, going slack in Dean's arms.