Dean stirred suddenly in his sleep causing the bedsheet that was resting lightly on the left side of his face, to slip. The movement jumpstarted Dean's adrenaline gland and his arm shot out, punching at the sheet and the air around him, as he thought that something was attacking him. Pain seared through Dean's chest and shot down his back, he slumped back, breathing in short quick puffs, trying to alleviate the pain in some way. When the first wave of agony died down, Dean opened his eyes, gingerly raised his head and had a look around. He quickly realised he was in the motel room, Sam and he had booked into yesterday. He let his head flop back down on the pillow behind it. As he did so he realised something strange about the room, lifting his head again he understood what it was, he was lying the wrong way on the bed, his feet where his head should be and vice versa.

Dean lay on the bed, isolating each part of his body, trying to work out what might be broken before deciding if it was safe to try to get up. 'Clearly, Sam is not here' he thought to himself, 'or he would have said something already'. Dean decided to move and instantly regretted it as another wave of fresh agony tortured his body. He pushed through it though, hoping it might feel better if he were standing; he knew some of his ribs were cracked.

Breathing through clenched teeth, Dean fought the pain until just a heavy rhythmic throbbing was all he could feel. The door behind him opened and the person who walked in cheerfully called, "Good Morning."

"If you say so…" Dean muttered trying to relax his jaw, after the build-up of tension the pain had created.

"How are you feeling, princess?" Sam asked, trying to mask his true concern with his choice of question. He had just been out to the warehouse, to retrieve the guns and Dean's phone, so that nothing could trace back to them. On the way back to the motel, he had stopped for some breakfast.

"Like crap…" Dean replied, before continuing, "You put me in here?" he asked pointing to the bed he was currently sitting on.

"Yeah. You fell asleep at the table."

Dean thought back through the night, remembering that he had been trying to stay awake in case he had a concussion, but he had told Sam to get some rest because he looked like crap.

"So you couldn't put me in the right way?"

"Dude, you are, way, heavier than you look…"

Dean tried to laugh, but instead, his body was racked with pain, Sam moved quickly to be by his side, "You right?" he asked, this time the concern was evident, plastered all over his face and dripping in the tone of his voice.

"I'm fine…" Dean swatted Sam's hand away from his shoulder, and the pain washed over him again, 'got to move less' he screamed at himself in his mind. His breathing sped up as he tried to ride the waves of pain, unsuccessfully. Sam reached for his shoulder again, "It's your chest, isn't it? Let me have a look…" he blurted as he reached down to get the bottom of Dean's shirt. Dean grabbed his hand to stop him, he slowly took control of his breathing before he said, "It's fine. Cracked ribs. You taped them last night."

Dean released Sam's hand; Sam took his hand back and stood slowly, watching his brother closely as he did so. Sam wasn't sure what to do, Dean talked down his injuries; always pretending they were less than they were, but what could he do; have an argument with him? Not right now, he decided, before moving back over to the table by the door. Grabbing the paper bag, and the large takeaway cup of coffee that he had put there, he took them back over to Dean, "Breakfast." he stated as he handed him the bag. Sam watched the effort it took Dean just to live his arm up to take the bag, he almost said something, but caught himself just in time, instead he moved over to the bedside table and placed the coffee there.

Dean put the bag down beside him, scrunching his face up at the pain that small movement caused. He knew that Sam was watching him, so he tried to cover it up. "I didn't find anything last night." Dean had been researching the soap factory last night, in an effort to stay awake. "Nothing?" Sam repeated it as a question. Dean shook his head, "Nothing. The building is about ninety-five years old, just the one death, like Harper said. Dude was crushed to death by a machine, his body was cremated. So nothing to salt and burn…"

"The floor was wooden, maybe his blood is there."

"Maybe, but like I said last night, there were at least three spirits. So… where did they come from?" Dean added.

Sam thought about it for a while before he shrugged his shoulders, his face emphasising the words he used next, "I got nothing."

"Yeah, it's going around."

Sam walked back over to the table and sat down, opening his computer as he did so. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean try to stand up; the pain was obviously worse than he thought because he sat back down almost immediately. Sam turned to look over at him then, "I'm fine, Sammy." Dean stated having seen Sam's head whip around and obviously wanting to stop him from asking more questions. "If you say so…" Sam replied, still watching his brother.

"What happened to you last night?" Dean asked, hoping to take Sam's mind off him and put it back into the case.

"Well…"

Sam's Night

Dean entered the building first, followed closely by Sam, "Let's stick together." Sam asserted. "Are you kidding me… that is going to take all night, a place this big? We split up, cover the ground faster; work out what or who is haunting this place and then back down until we can salt and burn the body." Dean countered. "I'll take the left side of the building, you take the right." he added. Sam stood still, as Dean peeled off to the left, moving through the mainly open floor plan that had been left behind by the demolition crew. 'Great' he thought to himself, 'Walk through a haunted building, all by yourself… what could go wrong? Nothing… it's all good, we'll just check it out, get a glimpse, go and salt and burn the body. We'll be out of here tomorrow, nothing, ever, goes, wrong, on, these, things!' Sam was ranting to himself, before he realised he was now all alone, still standing just inside the front door.

Lifting his gun up into the ready position, his torch snug in between his left hand and the gun, to lead the way, he peeled off to the right. He opened the first door he came to and found himself in a hallway, with several doors leading off it including one at the far end. As he moved, Sam opened each room and had a look inside; every single door, office spaces. All different sizes and all empty gutted back to bare bones. Sam was surprised they had left the walls up, or maybe this is where the demolition crew should have done next. The last two doors on his right were toilets, his and hers obviously and the door at the end of the hall led into a rather large room, massive big glass windows. This was either a conference room or the office of some sort of bigwig.

It was empty too.

Sam moved onto the doors on the other side of the hallway. Closet space or a small room that would have housed a small human. Two more rooms, maybe lunchrooms or something and then the final doorway led to another small hallway, which was directly perpendicular to the one he had just come from. About halfway along the hallway, the wall fell away and a staircase climbed upwards. Sam decided to go up, reasoning that the door at the end of the hallway probably led out to the factory floor, which was at the back of the building; Sam had seen some preliminary floor plans of the building online.

The stairway took Sam all the way to the top of the building. At each new level, there was a small foyer that led off the stairs, beyond which were more hallways and doors. When he reached the top floor, Sam moved into the foyer and had a look around. This floor was different from all the rest. The space here was one massive big room. With a few partitions scattered around to divide the space. Sam reasoned that this might have been a research and development lab, where they worked out what to put in the soap or did tests for quality control.

Sam was about halfway down the room, when his phone started buzzing. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID, Dean. Hitting the accept button, Sam puts the phone to his ear and stated, "I'm not done yet…" he paused waiting for Dean to chastise him for taking his time, or some stupid joke about how slow he is because he's so tall. Instead, all he heard was a whole lot of nothing, "Dean?" he called into the phone, the response shocked him into action because it wasn't Dean's voice but rather a 'whoomping' sound, the kind you hear when two bodies smash into each other. A very loud crashing sound quickly followed the first noise; it was so loud Sam could almost feel it. Spinning quickly Sam took off in the direction of the staircase. He stumbled on a cord that snaked across the ground and took a dive across the floor; the torch bouncing and shutting off, Sam managed to hold onto his gun. What to do? Go for Dean, or, look for the torch.

Sam jumped to his feet, a decision made, he took off for the staircase, fiddling with his phone as he ran, trying to turn its light on. This light was not as good as the torch, but at least he would see something on the staircase. Sam took the stairs two at a time and hit the bottom much faster than it had taken him to climb. He turned right and made for the door he had seen earlier; he slammed into it forcing it open and suddenly he was in a very large room. He couldn't see that much in the small dome of light that was given off by his phone, but the echo each step made as he ran, gave it away.

"Dean…" he yelled.

No response.

Sam kept running; he decided he would run the full length of the building, across the factory floor and then he would head back into the left side of the building, clearing the first floor before he headed up; searching for his brother.

"Dean…"

Still nothing.

Sam was breathing hard now, he could just make out the end of the building about sixty feet ahead, when suddenly he was knocked off his feet from behind.

Sam sprawled across the floor, dropping both the gun and his phone. He rolled quickly as he felt the fall slowing and managed to stumble back up into a standing position, his eyes scanning the area in front of him before he spun quickly to check what was behind him.

Nothing.

He spun back to face the way he had just come from.

Nothing.

And then.

A spirit.

A huge thug of a thing.

Just standing there, about fifty feet from the end of the building.

Watching him.

Sam kept an eye on him, as he tried to scan the floor for the gun, he knew where the phone was judging by the light it was throwing on his new found friend.

Finally, he eyed the gun about three feet in front of the spirit. As he saw it, something dripped into his eye.

Sam reached up and wiped it away, wincing in pain as he hit the open cut on his temple.

Now what?

He needed the gun if he and Dean were going to stand any chance of getting out of here.

But.

Decision made.

Sam inched towards the spirit that just stood its ground.

'What the…?' Sam thought as he moved forward, 'why is it just standing there?' as he neared the gun, Sam crouched down to pick it up. The spirit 'glitched out' and faded from sight. Sam didn't care, he grabbed the gun, moved over to pick up the phone and resumed his search for his brother.

"Dean…" he called frantically,

As he rounded the corner, about thirty feet from the end of the building, Sam saw what looked like a body on the ground. "Dean…" he yelled again, fear making his voice sound gruffer and deeper than usual.

The body just lay there.

Sam ran for the body; it was Dean. Sam knelt down beside him feeling for a pulse.

Yes.

He was still alive.

Barely.

"Dean?" he asked, shaking his brother's shoulder to see if he could rouse him.

No response.

Now he really had a problem.

He couldn't hold the gun, phone and drag Dean out of the building. "Dammit…" he cried out, frustrated at the situation he now found himself in, "It'll be quicker if we split up, you said…" Sam was talking to Dean as if he were awake, "We'll cover more ground. Course you went and got your stupid arse hurt… didn't you… and now I have to save you, shoot ghosts and get us the hell out of here…" Sam had put his gun and phone on the ground on either side of Dean; he quickly hoisted his brother up and over his shoulder before reaching back down to pick up the gun and phone, "Let me just say I'm sorry, in advance, if I drop you… just putting that out there… don't expect another apology later…" Sam grumbled as he set off under the weight, towards the front of the building.

Before he had gone twenty feet the 'thug' spirit, appeared right in front of Sam and reaching out it grabbed his jacket, spinning him around quickly, which caused him to do two things. One, lose his balance toppling quickly down onto his left knee, which hit the ground with a smacking sound and caused a sharp lightning-like pain to shoot up his thigh and radiate across his back and two; Sam dropped Dean. Dean hit the ground with a crunch, letting out a loud groan that Sam could just hear over the whip-like cracking noise of the shotgun releasing its salt rounds into the spirit.

"Dean?" he cried out, trying to turn back to his brother, further hurting his knee in the process.

Another groan.

Dean tried to roll, but gave up, letting out a strangled cry as the pain reared its ugly head. Dean was definitely awake now and hating every minute of it.

"What is going on in here?" yelled a voice from the far end of the factory floor.

Sam could just make out the spot of a torch, bouncing slightly as its bearer walked towards him. "Don't come in here…" Sam yelled a warning at the man; he presumed it was the guard, but he couldn't be sure of that, "You need to get out of the building now… you are in…"

Just then, the light flew up through the air, before hitting its peak and tumbling back to ground level where it bounced several times. Sam didn't hear the sound of the torch hitting the floor because the screams of the man were just too loud; too terrifyingly loud with a screech like quality that made all the hairs on one's neck stand on end. The screams lasted a long time, fading only as the man was taken further and further away from where Sam half stood, half crouched in fear.

"Can you walk?" Sam asked his brother.

"I can try…" came the strained reply.

Sam passed the phone to Dean, before he carefully hoisted him up into a standing position, propping his arm over his shoulder so he could half carry, half drag his brother out of the building. Sam leaned over again, to pick up the shotgun.

Again, they had barely gone a few feet before another spirit appeared and charged the pair; Sam raised the gun and fired. The ghost dissipated into nothing.

Two more steps.

Same thing.

This time though the ghost got close enough and managed to grab Dean by the throat before it started choking him.

Dean started struggling for breath; Sam, relieved now of the weight of Dean on his shoulder, stepped back and to the side before he raised the gun and blasted.

Dean fell to the ground as the spirit smoke out.

There was no noise.

Why was there no noise?

Sam darted back to Dean's side. "Dean?"

No response.

Sam checked; Dean was still alive, just out for the count.

Again.

'Great' thought Sam, 'could this get any worse?'

Sam regretted the thought immediately, as a spirit materialised right in front of him.

Bang.

He shot it.

Dust.

'And,' he thought, 'that was my last round…'

Sam made his move then, scooping up the phone, he hoisted Dean up, throwing his arm over his shoulders again, and pulling him up by the waist. This time though he ran, dragging Dean, towards the back of the building, rather than the front.

It was a good call, no ghosts appeared and as he hit the far wall, he saw a door. Sam struggled with the door but finally managed to barge it open. Dragging Dean outside, he dumped him, rather unceremoniously, on the ground just outside. From there he rifled through Dean's pockets until he had the keys to the Impala, then he ran around to the front of the building to bring the car back to Dean.

Dean was conscious again when Sam returned with the car, which made it much easier for Sam to get him up and into the passenger side of the car. Dean grunted with the pain, but Sam was just keen on getting the hell out of there to care too much.

"Stay awake man…" he warned his brother.

"Yeah yeah…" Dean mumbled.

The boys had barely made it out of the lot before Dean lost consciousness again, "Dean… Dean…" Sam yelled, trying to rouse his brother, he reached over with his right arm and slapped Dean's face, hard. "What the…" came the sharp cry from Dean. "I told you to stay awake… I'm taking you to a hospital."

"No… Sammy. I'm fine." Dean said, slurring his words a little as he spoke.

"Like hell, you're fine Dean. You need a hospital."

"No. I need our motel room and a hot shower. I'll be fine."

"Dean…" Sam pleaded with his brother.

"No! End of…"

Sam took the next right, which would take them back to the motel if things deteriorated during the night; he decided would knock his brother out himself and then take him to the hospital.

Sam stopped the car outside their room and ran around to help Dean get out. As he got his brother inside he asked, "Bed? Lie down?"

"No…" Dean replied, "I think I've cracked some ribs." Dean grimaced suddenly as a fresh wave of pain swallowed up his body, he finished his sentence through clenched teeth, "They need taping…"

Sam taped up Dean's ribs and then helped him sit down at the table, reminding him that he needed to stay awake. "Yeah yeah. I got it the first time…" he spat out. Sam was relieved, Dean was sounding better. Suddenly the pressure of the night and the frantic search for his brother caught up with him and he wavered where he stood, "You… on the other hand, should get some sleep… You look like crap…"

"Thanks…" Sam grimaced at Dean's description; he did feel completely spent. Sam moved over to the bed, where he promptly flopped down, and just before it was lights out he heard his brother say, "Thanks for saving me, Sammy." and then, all was dark.

Now

"So yeah, a rough night, hey?" Sam looked over at his brother, who nodded slightly before he gingerly lay down on the bed, wincing as the pain engulfed him. Noticing the paper bag Sam asked, "Aren't you going to eat your breakfast? It's a bacon roll."

"Nah…" Dean whispered softly as his eyes closed, his breathing slowed suddenly.

"Dean…" Sam cried as he quickly stood and rushed over to his brother. "Dean…" he yelled the word this time, standing right beside his brother, reaching down to grab his shoulders.

Dean was unresponsive.

And, not breathing.

The End... ?

hmm