A.N.: The moment we've all been waiting for folks, Sammy to the rescue! Thank you so much for all of the love and support you guys have given this story and no worries there are still several more chapters to go. :-D I hope you guys like the latest. Thanks again!
Disclaimer: Not mine.
The Impala spits out pieces of gravel as Sam flies into the parking lot, one hand reaching into the back seat for his shovel as the other yanks the keys out of the ignition.
"How much time do we have left Bobby?" Sam inquires, scanning the location for where his brother might be.
"Thirty minutes. What do you see Sam?"
Sam casts his eyes to the scenery. "He's here, I know it."
Bobby shifts the duffel on his shoulder. "There's a lot of 'here' to choose from. "
"I know!" Sam shouts in frustration, running a hand through his hair. Desperation begins to run rampant through his body as he digs for the crumpled photo in his pocket. "Come on Dean, come on." He whispers.
He holds the photo up eye level with the backdrop of the lake. "Please," he begs as he scrutinizes the image of his older brother holding him on his lap. Right below the…
Sam squints into the distance at the Cottonwood tree, off colored green leaves swaying in the breeze. His eyes travel down to the barely noticeable mound scattered with fallen leaves.
Without even thinking about it his feet take off, shovel clanging against his back as he slides down to the base of the tree.
"Dean!" He screams, his fingers burying into the dirt. "Dean, I'm coming!"
The swish of a shovel digging into the ground sounds next to his hands as Bobby taps his shoulder with the shovel handle.
Sam reaches up for the handle, his hands shaking.
Wordlessly he and Bobby dig side by side, the sun on their backs, the ominous ticking of Sam's watch driving them on.
They are both so invested in their mission that neither of them notice the little girl blink into existence behind them.
HE'S MINE.
They whirl around, shovels in hand.
YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM.
"Lily, you have the wrong guy. My brother is a good guy, he would never," He breaks off as the front of Bobby's spade crosses through her.
"Jesus!" Sam hisses.
"Don't waste time talking to them Sam. "Bobby says turning back away from him.
"You brought an iron shovel?"
Bobby looks at him with a smirk. "You didn't?" he asks, heaving a load of dirt of his shoulder.
He smiles and can't wait to tell Dean about this when he gets him out.
The steady noise of metal meeting dirt is interrupted by a solid and hearty thunk.
"Was that?"
"It was." Bobby beams. "With two minutes to spare."
He is just leaning down to help grasp the lid when Lily appears again.
NO! She bellows as Bobby body is flung into the tree.
He crumbles unconscious to the ground as Sam goes to run to him.
TICK TOCK. The girl mocks him.
Sam feels his vision go red as he hefts Bobby's shovel up and over his shoulder and down into the ghostly figure.
She disappears with a shriek.
"Dean! Dean, if you can hear me hold on!" He scrambles for the salt in the duffel and places a ring around the tree.
Lily emerges into his line of sight, wrath twisting her once innocent features into something monstrous.
YOU CAN'T. She yelps.
This bitch took his brother.
"Sorry," he starts reaching down to pry open the coffin lid. "No ghosts allowed."
He doesn't hear the growling from behind him as the ghost roars, all he sees is his brother, in the fetal position, his hands curled around his diaphragm as if he is trying to keep that last breath trapped in his lungs.
Splatters of blood adorn his head and his clothes.
"Dean?" He questions, noticing the dusting of dirt in his hair, on his shirt and comically on his mouth. Under different circumstances Sam would think his older brother had just finished off a box of Oreos.
But this is not different circumstances, this is…
"Dean!" He yells, reaching down and gripping the front of his brothers' shirt. "Dean!"
He shakes him once, terror lighting up in his belly when there is no response.
"Please Dean," he mutters, his palm lying on Dean's chest, his head resting on the bloodied and gritty forehead of his older brother. "Please."
A flutter of movement jolts under his palm as he pulls back with a gasp.
"Dean?" He blinks away the tears forming in his eyes. "Dean?"
"Smmy?" is the muffled response.
"Dean? Thank God!" he cries out, pulling his brother up out of the coffin and into an awkward embrace.
Dean turns his head into the open air and drags in a shaky breath.
"Sam?"
Sam can't reply, his throat too choked up with emotion.
Dean gulps in air and reaches up to grab onto the edge of Sam's jacket.
"Sammy, are you really here?" he gasps.
Sam makes a noise somewhere between a chortle and a sob. "Yeah Dean, I'm really here."
"That's good." He huffs. "That's good."
"Ready to get out of here bro?"
"Yeah, but I'm gonna pass out now Sammy."
"Okay Dean."
"Not dead?" He groans as Sam helps him out of the hole.
"No," Sam says with a watery chuckle. "Not dead. I got you Dean. You're going to be okay."
Dean throws a tired grin his way. "Thanks Sammy." He mutters.
"Anytime Dean." Sam grins, throwing an arm around his shoulder and taking most of his weight. "Anytime."