Hello!

This is the penultimate chapter of this story; I hope you've all enjoyed the ride so far!

Enjoy...

Dean felt the sweat pour off his face and stick his hair to his head as he desperately dug at the hard earth; it didn't seem to be giving at all. He growled in frustration, a panicked sob rocking his body as he pulled the shovel above his head and smashed the tip down into the earth once more- miraculously, it made a dent.

'Come on...come on...please...' he begged, his muscle fibres in his arms burning as he dug feverishly. He gritted his teeth and carried on; he could break his arms for all he cared- as long as Sammy was okay.

Finally, after what felt like a decade, the mud began to shift and pretty soon he heard a dull clunk as metal found wood.

'Finally...' Dean growled, kneeling in the grave pit to expose the skeleton.

Sam stumbled back from the mirror, tripping over his own feet; he sprawled on the floor with a gasp, clutching his neck and trying not to sob. The pain was indescribable, like someone had taken a red-hot poker and shoved it down his throat. He couldn't swallow, could barely breath.

He scrambled up as he heard laughter, before buckling to his knees as a fresh wave on pain spread from his neck; blood oozed down his closed hands and onto the floor. Sam felt the warm liquid pooling underneath him. He closed his eyes and groaned in pain as he forced himself up. He had to get out, he had to do something. He couldn't just sit here and die.

The laughter got nearer and nearer, until the spectre was so close he may as well have been sitting on him.

'Hurting yet Sammy?' it asked nonchalantly, lifting Sam's chin up so it could get a better look.

It pretended to suck in breath, to look shocked. 'Oh gee, that looks bad...but don't worry, it'll all be over soon...' it leaned close into Sam's face, until it had nearly gone through the younger Winchester's body. '...I promise.' It hissed, before moving away, laughing.

'You b-bastard.' Sam choked out, kneeling up to stand, before pain shot through him once more. He yelled in agony, clutching at his neck to stop the now steady flow of blood from coursing from his body. He pitched forwards onto his stomach, his face hitting the cold floor.

'Dean...' he whispered into the floor.

Dean doused the body he was dumping water on a fire. Every part of this son of a bitch was going up in flames, no doubt about it, Dean thought as he scrambled up the dirt to the top.

He quickly got out his lighter, and flicked it open.

No time for snarky, smart one-liners. Sam depended on this.

He flicked the lighter.

Nothing happened.

He tried again, desperately flicking the lighter again and again. 'No! Come on...come on!' he yelled, frustration making his body burn, he didn't have another lighter on him. This had to work.

It had to

'You know...I knew I would get you, and I knew it would be easy...but what I didn't bet on was that your brother would abandon you so easily.' The ghost muttered, walking slowly towards Sam.

The younger man was now pallid and shaking, curled up against the wall, congealing blood around his neck.

Sam weakly shook his head, not wanting to hear it.

'Oh well...he's a little late now, so, hey- why grumble?' the spectre stood in front of Sam, before moving his hands to see his neck.

'You've still got some way to go...I always prefer the slower deaths, don't you Sammy? It gives you a certain...satisfaction. Well, it does me, anyway...' it chuckled, before straightening up.

'Now...I'll just let you do what you have to do, and then I'll be back, okay?' it didn't wait for an answer before it walked away.

Sam shrank back further, small sobs now leaving him. He stuttered out what he knew could be his last few breaths. Where was Dean? Why had he left him?

Suddenly, the ghost was back. It looked angrier than ever before. 'You know what? I think I'm just going to get this over with now; this has gone on too long, and your devastated looks towards the door are just boring the hell outta me- say goodbye to this world Sammy, and I'll see you in the next one!' it growled.

Seconds later, before anything had happened, however, the ghost of Mr James Mosley let out a strangled yell, and a bright white light enveloped both him and Sam, who closed his eyes against the blinding glare.

Moments later, darkness had returned, and Sam was alone.

He sank down onto the floor, his cheek resting on the cold wood, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt blood, warm and thick, pooling from his open mouth and onto the floor.

Dean drove like a hundred spirits where on his tail, flooring it just to get to Sam. As soon as he reached the house he didn't even wait for the engine to stop before he flung open the door and scrambled for the house.

He burst in, eyes wide as he searched for his brother in the dark rooms. 'Sammy? Speak to me, please! Sam!' he yelled, feeling the tears spring to his eyes again.

Where was he?

'D-Dean...' he heard a faint whisper coming from the floor by the wall.

'S-Sammy?' he ventured, bounding over and falling on his knees in a pool of his brother's blood. It seeped into his jeans, saturating his hands and he turned his little brother over.

'Oh god...' he muttered, cradling Sam in his arms and putting his hands on his neck.

'Sam? Sammy breathe, oh god please don't be dead...' he sobbed, tears running freely down his cheeks. He touched Sam's pale cheeks; still warm, that was a good sign.

'Sam...?' he gently shook his brother, gasping with relief and Sam's eyes slowly opened.

'Hey dude, I'm going to get you outta here, you hear me?' Dean promised, holding Sam close, but being careful of his neck. He knelt up, bringing Sam up with him. He choked back a sob as Sam groaned, his forehead slipping onto Dean's shoulder. 'Sammy you gotta help me, I can't...' he couldn't finish the sentence. How could he expect Sam to help him?

His brother was dying in his arms.

'I'm gonna get you outta here man, I promise...' he groaned, standing up and bodily lifting Sam onto his shoulders. He didn't even wince as he moved, but he nearly slipped through the thick puddle of blood at his feet; he righted himself, making sure he kept at least one hand on Sam's neck as he kept walking.

He slowly made for the door, walking down to the Impala and quickly opening the door.

'That's it Sammy...' he muttered, before stopping and looking down; Sam had a hold on his shirt, and refusing to let go. 'It's okay Sammy, I'm gonna help you, I promise...' he gently peeled Sam's blood stained fingers away from him with his own, and raced into the front of the Impala.

They had to find the nearest hospital, and fast, otherwise-he would lose Sam.

Not on his watch.

'Hold on Sammy, just hold on...' he muttered, before turning on the ignition and turning the car around fast, roaring off into the night.

Will Dean be able to get Sammy to a hospital in time?

Find out in the next chapter!

Thank you so much for reading, please review!

XxxX