Alright, here we go. Thanks so much for all the wonderful comments and reviews. Please keep them coming - they fuel the fire! Hope you enjoy this chapter, and hopefully the outcome will be to your liking...or at least the outcome up until next chapter. Sorry, it's another cliff-hanger. It's not that I fully intend to keep doing this, it just makes a good stopping place. To keep going means another 6 or 7 pages, and that means a longer wait for all of you guys. You all rock. Thanks for all you patience! Enjoy...
Time dragged on as Sam and Dean stared at Bobby as though he had just grown a second head. Sam's mouth gaped open, the jaw moving up and down on its hinges as he tried to decide whether to laugh or cry. And Dean just seemed to shut down completely. It was uncanny just how much bad luck had befallen them just on this one little hunt. He decided they had to have made up for breaking all those mirrors from the Bloody Mary case all those months back. Nobody deserved to have this long a string of bad luck - wasn't it their turn for some good yet?
"It's in a tree," Sam finally said, more a statement than a question, but he looked to Bobby for confirmation nonetheless. "As in, up there, in the air, way beyond out of our reach, in a tree."
Bobby nodded, cringing a bit as he fully soaked up the implications of that particular predicament.
Sam sighed, running his hand through his tangled mop of dark hair and looked at Dean who, up till now, hadn't done much more than remain frozen in place, cradling his wounded shoulder as though it were a precious package.
"Well that just sucks," Sam finally breathed out.
Finally springing to life, Dean rolled his eyes. "And the prize for understatement of the year goes to..."
Choosing to ignore him, Sam instead looked back to Bobby as he bent to collect his pack. "Well, I guess we better get moving. Where did it land?"
Having gotten his breathing back under control, the older hunter dragged himself to his feet and nodded in the direction he'd just come. "It's about five hundred yards that-a-way." He paused, waiting to be sure the two boys were prepared to follow him before trudging off.
By now, all three knew to be cautious of the spirit and they were all on high alert, weapons cocked and ready to be fired at the earliest sign of trouble. None were willing to be caught off guard again. But the spirit didn't seem to be too concerned with their whereabouts now that it had managed to remove the pouch from their immediate grasp. If they had to venture a guess, it would seem likely that the spirit was now sitting back and toying with them, just waiting to see how far they would go to get rid of it.
Several minutes later, Bobby came to an abrupt halt in front of a large Spruce tree. With one hand he shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun and pointed with the other towards the confiscated loot. The small leather pouch was barely noticeable through the dense covering of needles and the boys had to strain to find the location Bobby was pointing to.
It hung on the top of a branch, a couple hundred feet out of reach, taunting them and mocking their short comings. The spirit hawk was nowhere in sight, but all three hunters knew that meant nothing. It would likely return only when it began to feel threatened again; probably about the time Sam was close to what they sought, when falling would almost certainly mean death.
Three sets of eyes stared ominously up at the desired pouch, some two hundred feet above them in the branches of what had to be one of the tallest and oldest trees in the forest. The trunk was thick and gnarled and devoid of branches for the first twenty-five or so feet, making the impending climb all that more daunting.
"We could just burn the whole damn tree down," Dean suggested, only half joking. But they all knew that couldn't be the answer. The goal was to save the forest and all the nature lovers that enjoyed its beauty and simplicity, not destroy it all. Lighting up a tree of that height would surely set the entire forest on fire.
Sam turned to offer his brother a smile at the attempted joke, but his mouth immediately turned down at the edges as he took in the expression of despair and hopelessness that had once again found its way to Dean's face. He absolutely hated this; absolutely despised the ups and downs that Dean continued to experience. And he knew, without a doubt, the thoughts that crossed his older brother's mind to put the cloud over his face. It didn't matter how much he had accomplished just coming out here by himself, fighting off the spirit snake, locating the pouch initially; none of that mattered right now as Dean looked up into the face of a challenge he stood no chance at besting. He'd come a long way, but there was no way, even without the shoulder injury, that he could climb the tree.
"So I guess you're gonna have to go up there," Dean stated flatly, downcast eyes looking down to the ground instead of at Sam.
Sam shrugged nonchalantly, as though the mighty spruce tree in front of him were nothing more than a mere shrub, and the fact that they lacked any rope or proper climbing equipment was only a minor setback. "With your shoulder the way it is, man..." Sam apologized, letting the sentence hang where it stood, refusing to say more. He knew Dean understood; it wasn't right to rub it in.
"You got any ideas on how you're going to do this?" Bobby broke in, hands on his hips as he too stared up the height of the tree in mystified curiosity. It was a near impossible challenge, but there was no other option.
Sam issued a dry chuckle. "One hand at a time?" He circled the tree slowly, studying the potential handholds it offered. He could play this off with humor, but there was no mistaking the underlying nervousness. One false move, one wrong step, and he wasn't walking out of this forest.
Seeing his brother's anxiety, Dean stepped up to the plate. Something about seeing Sammy in distress brought out the guardian in the elder Winchester, and he quickly pushed his concerns aside to take care of his little brother. His responsibility. There was more than one way to be a part of this challenge, and he was determined to protect Sam with everything he had.
Joining Sam in his circle of the tree, Dean began calculating the climb. "You're gonna want to start there," he started, pointing to a thick knot about three feet from the ground that provide the best access to additional footholds. "And from that point, go there, there, and then there." His suggestions would get Sam about ten feet off the ground. From there, more knots and short branch holds began to sprout, although nothing significant was prevalent for another fifteen feet and Sam eyed Dean nervously.
"You really think this is going to work?"
"It has to. We don't have another option."
"Right. You're absolutely right. No other choice."
Their gazes locked, the single look saying more than any words could say. Fear. Love. Understanding.
But Sam couldn't leave it just at a look, and he backed away a step as he broke the connection. "Dean, man, about yesterday..." God was it only yesterday that Dean had stormed off? It felt like a lifetime ago.
Dean shook his head, effectively ending the dreaded chick-flick moment before it began. "Save it for when you're safely out of that tree, Sam. It'll give you something to focus on."
Sam felt something sharp pull at his heart when Dean refused him the conversation he wanted; a thought, a concern, a fact. He knew that if they didn't have this talk now they never would, just as he knew not saying anything would give him a reason to fight, to hold on. There was no way he would leave his feeings unsaid. Not when Dean was hurting so bad on the outside.
But he consented to Dean's request, shutting his mouth and putting his thoughts and concerns out of his mind. He would save it for later, for the drive home, perhaps, and probably never speak a word of what he wanted to say.
"...to have to take some weapons up with you."
"Huh?" Sam shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked at his brother with a hint of confusion. Just how long had Dean been talking to him before he noticed.
Dean sighed, noticeably irritated. "Sammy, you've got to listen to us. You need to pay attention. Seriously! This is extremely important."
The younger blinked and focused hard on his brother. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking. Please continue."
"Like I was saying, it's going to add extra weight, but you're going to have to carry some weapons with you. The thing will no doubt come after you when you're close. You've got to have protection."
Sam nodded, and looked to Bobby, watching him root through their packs for the best weapons to use. He emerged first with a small handgun, shoving it firmly at Sam. The young hunter took it and secured it in the waistband of his pants.
"It's not ideal for range," Bobby lamented of his choice, but I doubt you'll be able to carry a rifle all the way up that tree.
A wan smile was the only response Sam provided as he waited for Bobby to secure the other items he was to take up the tree with him. Salt, holy water, silver knife. Everything was tucked away safely in pockets and waistbands, as secure as they were going to be for such a climb. And then he saw Bobby reach for his own waistband, hastily fumbling with his belt.
"You gonna do a strip tease for us there, Bobby?" Dean snorted, his sarcastic personality shining through even in the direst of circumstances, and Bobby looked up in defense of his actions.
"No, I'm not gonna do a strip tease," the older man sneered, annoyed. "It's to help him climb. He can wrap the belt around the trunk of the tree and shimmy his way up and down. It should offer just a little bit more security."
It was a sound idea, and Dean gave a nod of approval at his friends impressive thinking. He never would have considered that.
And then it was time for action. The reality of the situation was that it would probably take Sam at least an hour to shimmy his way up the trunk; he would need breaks to rest his weary arms or he might manage to lose his handhold and fall on his own without ever getting a shove from the spirit they hunted. To top that off, it stood to reason that they would still have a fight on their hands with the spirit and another guaranteed four hours at least to get back out. It was one thing to race their way in under the guise of anger and determination, but there was no doubt they would end up exhausted and barely able to crawl their way back out by the end.
Inside his head, Dean's voice was screaming at him to stop this ridiculousness, to figure out another way. His instinct told him to press forward and insist upon going up the tree himself, despite the inevitability that he couldn't do it. There was no way he could climb that tree, he wasn't ready. Maybe, maybe, in a few months with some more practice and more time to let his leg heal he might be able to consider climbing a small tree - an apple tree perhaps - and then work his way up to greater challenges. But for now, it would do none of them any good for him to start another argument in place of action.
So Dean ignored the nagging voice, pressed beyond the worries that this was a bad idea, and approached Sam with a forced smile. "You ready for this, bro?"
Sam laughed nervously, looking up to the top of the tree for at least the hundredth time, and crossed his arms against his chest. "No. But it's got to be done. I'll be okay."
Gripping one side of Bobby's belt tight in his hand, Sam swung the length of it around the tree and grabbed onto the other side before he lost his nerve. He heard Dean come up behind him, and Bobby approached from the other side. Both men put a hand on a shoulder and squeezed reassuringly .
"You're gonna do just fine, Sammy," Dean encouraged as Bobby nodded affirmatively. "I mean, it's really nothing to get up there, ya know? Just a bit of a climb - nothing you haven't done before. Piece of cake."
Sam gave a firm nod, feigning his own confidence as easily as Dean. He appreciated his brother's assuredness in his ability, despite the ever growing fear he had that this climb was not possible, and he felt he owed it to the older man to put everything he had into completing the mission. Dean had already given so much for this hunt; he'd literally given a part of himself. And for that, Sam was willing to risk his own life.
Checking the hold of the belt, Sam jerked it several times and then began his assent. The trunk was thickest at the bottom and he had to hug tightly to the tree to maintain a hold on both sides of the belt as he searched for footholds and slowly inched the belt further up the tree. Almost immediately, he could feel the roughness of the bark as it began to scratch at his face and his bare forearms. But he persisted, ignoring the minor pains in favor of a faster climb.
It took him close to twenty minutes to make it far enough up to where he could actually reach branches of any substance, and he was close to exhaustion by that point, his arms quivering from exertion. He grabbed hold of the thick branch, clinging to it as the lifeline if was, and closed his eyes for a minute. When he finally felt rested enough to open them once again, Sam looked down to see Dean and Bobby grinning up at him eagerly. He could see relief on Dean's face, and knew his brother had most feared the initial twenty foot climb. Despite the height that accompanied the remainder of the climb, it was the lack of handholds and footholds in the beginning that had most worried his brother.
Sam waved wearily at the two men beneath him and called out. "So far so good."
"You're doing great, Sammy!" Dean hollered back. "Not much further!"
Rolling his eyes at Dean's sarcasm, Sam turned back to the task at hand and balanced himself on the limb he was on as he reached for the next. The remainder of his climb was done in what could only be described as a noisy silence. Dean and Bobby seemed to know that their voices would only succeed in distracting Sam from his concentration, and hence remained blissfully quiet. Sam only wished that the frantic beating of his heart and the noisy pounding in his ears would share the same consideration.
Every new branch, each additional foot in height, brought new anxieties. The closer he came to the pouch the more he found himself looking over his shoulder and jumping at every rustle of leaves and gust of wind, certain that it was the spirit back to finish what it started months earlier. But every nervous reaction resulted in a big fat nothing until he finally found himself just a branch away from the very limb his sought out pouch rested on.
Sam finally gave himself the opportunity to rest again, drawing up the last bit of strength he would need in order to go for the pouch. The muscles in his arms were weak and flaccid after supporting his weight for the better part of an hour, and his hands were scraped and bleeding from the constant attack the tree bark had launched against his skin. Sam's hands shook as he opened a bottle of water, dropping the cap in the process. So he downed the entire thing and sent the bottle after the cap. Picking them up would give Dean something to do beyond nervously waiting for Sam to fall from the tree.
"I can see it!" Sam bellowed to the two hunter's below him when he'd finally readied himself to go the last few feet to the loot.
"Well hurry up and get the damn thing!" Dean yelled back. His voice was distant and hollow from so far down, but Sam could still make out the inflection in his brother's voice, and he could almost see him pacing impatiently in a circle around the very tree he'd climbed.
A hint of a smile formed on Sam's face as he resigned himself to complete the retrieval mission. Same old Dean.
His first thought was to just shake the limb until the pouch dislodged itself and fell to the forest floor, where Dean and Bobby could salt and burn the damn thing while he struggled to get back down. But Sam soon discovered that doing so was a lesson in futility. The tree limb was far too thick from where he sat, and didn't show any signs of thinning out until he was close enough to grab the pouch anyway.
With a determined sigh, Sam began to inch himself across the limb, legs dangling free as he scooted his butt closer and closer to the end. Occasionally he would encounter a branch breaking off from the main limb, and he would have to fall to his stomach and pull himself along as he freed his feet from their obstruction. Every foot or so, Sam reached to his waistband to check the location of his gun, needing the certainty that it was ready and waiting for him in the event of danger.
But when the spirit hawk returned it came with such a silence and swiftness that Sam never saw it coming. He'd been so close; his fingers in the process of wrapping themselves around the leather bag, when he felt the rush of wind pass his ear just as a searing pain invaded his senses, setting his right forearm on fire.
Instinct had him reaching out with the left hand to grab at the bleeding appendage, leaving him unsecured on the branch. The force of the attack had knocked him off balance, and he teetered dangerously for a few seconds - just long enough to recognize impending doom - before his balance gave way and he found himself plummeting downward.
Sam screamed. The sound of his own voice, so shrill and so frightened, tore at his eardrums as he met branch after branch on his way down. He was certain this was it; this was how he would die. He felt every branch as he careened back to the earth, every crash from one level to the next jarring his body and sending new waves of pain across every nerve ending in his torso, his legs, his arms. Places he didn't even know could feel pain were suddenly alight with agonizing energy, getting worse and worse the farther he fell.
And then he stopped. He just... quit falling. In the same instant of time it had taken to lose his balance and topple off the tree limb that had been his only support, Sam now came to rest on a second branch, quite a ways down from the first one. He lay on his back, cradled by the girth of the limb that had claimed him, and focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. It hurt so bad; oh, god how his lungs burned and his head swam and everything else just throbbed, almost too numb to register any pain anymore.
From somewhere below him, Sam could hear voices. Someone calling his name; screaming it. He knew it was Dean, not because he could discern tone or volume or pitch, but because he knew instinctively that only Dean could put that much emotion into the one word.
"Sammmmmmeeeeeee!" Dean screamed, over and over again. He wanted desperately to return the call; wanted to reassure Dean that he was here, he was alive. But he couldn't get his voice to work. His throat had gone into convulsions as he tried to reply, and his tongue seemed to have swollen up inside his mouth, leaving no room for movement. The best he could utter was a garbled "Deghhn," that he knew had in no way made it down to his brother's hearing.
In another instant, Dean stopped screaming Sam's name, and the hollow echo of voices turned into determined desperation.
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"I'm going up after him!" Dean announced, one hand already on the tree as he assessed his climb. Sam had fallen most of the way down, and now rested only five or six feet higher than the lowest level of branches. He wasn't moving, wasn't making a sound, and Dean was terrified.
Bobby grabbed his arm and spun him around. "You can't do it. I'll go." the older man stated matter-of-factly. His harsh eyes bored into Dean, unwavering, though saying such a thing had just about killed him. The last thing he wanted was to break Dean's spirit anymore than it already was. But Sam was hurt, maybe dying, and they couldn't waste time testing the waters to see how acute Dean's climbing skills were with only one real leg.
"Like hell I can't," Dean glowered back, pissed as hell and unwilling to get into a fight right now. Jerking his arm out of Bobby's grasp, Dean returned to the tree, once again reaching for handholds. He was going up there and that was all there was too it. "He's my brother. I'll do what I have to do."
"You can't risk it, Dean," Bobby insisted, grabbing at the middle Winchester once again. His unspoken words fueled the fire already raging inside Dean, making him more determined than ever to go after Sam. You're too much of a liability. You'll just get yourself hurt in the process. Sam can't have that right now.
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From up in the tree, Sam heard the exchange taking place, but his foggy mind was having a difficult time fully comprehending the words being said. He knew they were arguing, probably about him, and he had to put a stop to it. If he could just...turn over...just get onto his stomach, maybe he could make it the rest of the way to the ground without help. They wouldn't have to fight anymore.
He started to move, forcing his heavy right arm across his chest as spears of pain ignited once again across the limb. He stared, dumbstruck, at the bloody appendage and forced his eyes to focus, noticing only then the pouch still locked in a death grip in his hand. The smile that created ended up more as a grimace, but the intentions were there. He'd done it. He'd gotten the pouch. This could all be ended right now.
Knowing there was nothing he could do about the pouch from where he lay, Sam pried his fingers from the mouth of the bag and let loose. A few seconds later he heard the unmistakable thud as it hit the ground and then Bobby's cry of "What the hell?" floated up to his ears once more before Sam's mind gave way to unconsciousness.
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Dean and Bobby both stopped arguing as the pouch came hurtling to the earth, landing directly between their feet. Four eyes turned on the illusive bag, the missing link to ending this nightmare once and for all, before Bobby finally crouched down and retrieved it.
"We need to burn this now, before the spirit returns for it again." Bobby's insistence left no room for argument, and Dean quickly nodded in agreement.
They both looked up to where Sam still lay, noticing the change in position where his arm now crossed his chest instead of hanging limply in the air. "You take care of the bag. I've got to get to him before he rolls off." Dean's concern for his brother was palpable, and Bobby finally assented. As much as he didn't like the plan, and really thought their roles would be better reversed, he recognized the time danger another argument would produce. Looking into Dean's eyes, the older hunter was reassured that Dean would figure something out. There was no way he was letting his little brother down.
Working in double time, the two lucid hunter's set about their tasks. Dean's heart beat fast as he sought out the same handholds Sam had used earlier, using his own belt in the same manner Bobby's had provided Sam. He ignored the sharp twinges in his shoulder, and didn't look to see how much blood he was losing from the strain. It didn't matter. Only Sam mattered. He'd made it about a third of the distance to Sam when a loud crack echoed throughout the forest. Dean looked down in time to see Bobby squaring off against the spirit hawk, gun drawn and ready to fire again if the thing came at him again.
"Not this time, you son of a bitch!" Bobby growled angrily, his hand clutching tightly to the leather pouch. The bottle of lighter fluid and a canister of salt both lay upturned on the forest floor. The hawk flew at Bobby again and another gunshot pierced the air, abruptly followed by a blood curdling shriek.