AN: Hey, look! It didn't take a hundred years for this chapter to be finished!

Janice was super speedy beta'ing this one. She's pretty awesome!

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Sam's heart sank at Chet's words. In the back of his mind, he'd realized that the mothman spit was doing something significant to him. The words he'd read back in the bar had been bouncing around in his head ever since he'd been spit on. He'd never gotten around to translating what his book said the lapsae spit contained: mordax conversio. Naturally, the words came to him now that it was too late, something like acid of conversion. Suddenly, Dan's reaction to the lapsae saliva on his neck made more sense now, and that and Chet's word made him feel sick. Chosen. Exactly what Sam didn't want to be.

He went to sit up and was quickly reminded of his many injuries. It was only by dint of being used to dealing with pain that he managed to just grunt and not cry out as he moved his busted arm. "Drink?" he coughed out, trying to hide just how awful he felt. His head was pounding and everything he looked at had a bit of a wavy appearance. He felt like his entire body was beaten and battered, the slashes on his thigh just one pain among many.

Dean set his gun in Sam's left hand with a cocked eyebrow, his way of silently asking if Sam could fire it if need be. Though he'd normally bitch at even being asked, Sam just tightened his lips and nodded. Under the circumstances, it was a more than fair question. He didn't even protest Dean helping him sit up and take a drink from his flask. He figured he must look as bad as he felt. Besides that, Dean had to have freaked out to find him missing.

"H-how'd you find me?" he asked to distract them both a little before they figured out how to get the hell out of there. Sam saw the headless body of a lapsae lying nearby and raised his eyebrows, wondering how many were still around.

"The motel clerk –" Dean started, but Sam missed the rest, a coughing fit engulfing him. His neck burned again, and this time the burning spread to his insides too. By the time it subsided, there were spots dancing in Sam's vision and Dean's grip on his shoulder was probably the only thing keeping him from toppling over. It took him another minute to realize that Dean was talking to him.

"...be okay. Just breathe, Sam."

"Yeah," Sam croaked out, wanting to reassure his brother. "I'm alright." He reached shakily for the flask Dean still held.

"Wait. Did the holy water hurt you?" Dean asked, not letting go of the container. "Or...did it help?" He was frowning with worry.

Neither, Sam was pretty sure. The lapsae weren't infernal creatures but rather ex humano corpore, or from transformed human beings just like werewolves and vampires. As far as Sam knew, there was no way to stop or reverse such a change, either. "Might help," he lied, mostly to keep Dean from worrying over something he couldn't do anything about. He ignored the burning in his guts and emptied the flask, wondering how long it would take before he was completely changed. And if Dean would be willing to put him down. Sam closed his eyes at the thought. After everything they'd been through and everyone they'd lost, now Dean was going to be alone. At least he'd still have Bobby.

"You should go for help," Sam said, knowing without a doubt that Dean would never leave him behind, but hoping anyway.

"Shut up, moron. We'll both get outta here and come back to take out the trash later."

Alright then. Sam would have to walk out of there. Somehow. "Help me up," he said, working to keep the dread off his face. He didn't even want to know how many bruises he had from the kidnapping, the fight with the "Murdoch" mothman, the fall, and being hauled back up. He braced himself physically and mentally. "How many did you take out?" he asked to distract them both.

Dean pulled Sam to his feet before answering, steadying him when Sam nearly went back down. He took his gun back and pulled Sam's left arm over his shoulders, moving with as much care as he could. His face was tight in reaction to Sam's obvious pain. "Linda got caught in the explosion, I think. Blew up a mothman then, too. Archie got shot, then eaten. Dan and your buddy fell down the hole, and that dude's not going anywhere." Dean indicated the decapitated monster. "So as far as I know, there's Chet and one monster left. You see any more than that?"

Sam's head was spinning and he had to work to keep his knees locked, but he focused enough to think through Dean's question. "No. Four people and four...oh, shit. Chet." The man was no longer tied to the stalagmite.

"I know. I saw," Dean said. He must have seen the man getting himself free and let him go, knowing it would be nearly impossible to get Sam out of there while keeping him under guard. Sam was a bit embarrassed that he hadn't noticed until just then. "We'll have to come back to deal with him too. But first, we're getting you full of holy water until we wash that shit right off of you. Can you walk?"

No. "Yes." Sam refrained from pointing out that reversing the process of what was happening to him was most likely not possible knowing that Dean would not accept that anyway. He would keep trying to find a way to save Sam until it became obvious that he could not, and part of Sam was very comforted by that knowledge.

They stumbled along, hindered by Sam's weakness and the uneven floor. Or Sam stumbled. Dean set his feet every step and didn't waver, though he had to be tired after having to pull Sam up out of the crevice.

Sam couldn't help but notice that his leg and chest didn't hurt as much as he thought they should. Conversely, the skin on his neck, face, and one shoulder burned more and more, and he could feel a similar heat in his stomach. The pain of the broken arm was almost a welcome distraction from the rest of it, simply because it felt exactly like it had felt the first time he'd broken it.

"The people always came through there," Sam said, nodding toward an opening in the rock that was quite a bit wider than the one Dean and Chet had come through. Dean hesitated. He probably knew the way through the other tunnel and backtracking would suck, but the tunnel Sam indicated was much wider and wouldn't be as dark. A low growl came from the smaller passage, and that seemed to make up Dean's mind.

"Then we will too," he announced. His grip on Sam's arm tightened and he guided him forward and up the slight incline that brought them into their chosen opening.

Sam wasn't sure if it was getting darker as they went or if that was simply his vision as he fought to stay upright and conscious. He didn't ask, working to keep his stumbling steps and panting as quiet as he could. It was probably no use, but at least he was trying. Dean was quiet too, his voice barely above a whisper as he encouraged, teased, and cajoled by turn.

"And since I'm the one doin' all the work here, like usual, I get first dibs on any sexy nurses. Deal?" he was saying when there was a definite sound of movement behind them.

Sam tried to push himself to move faster. It was quite dark in the tunnel, and it had gotten a fair amount narrower as they'd gone, both of which put Dean at a definite disadvantage if the final lapsae came upon them. Not to mention, Sam wouldn't be any help, but would just be in the way. "We have to be close to the end," Dean whispered, practically dragging Sam along. "Since it's getting lighter again."

Sam hadn't noticed that, but he believed Dean.

The sounds behind them grew closer and more distinct. Claws on stone. Angry growls. It was definitely a lapsae and was catching up quickly, and Sam had a feeling that it wasn't going to be deterred this time – not by the fact that Sam was turning into a creature just like it (he was pretty sure either Dan or Chet had implied that they would eat their injured comrades) and not by Dean's amulet.

"Wh' weap'ns d'ya have?" Sam panted.

"Gun, belt knife, boot knife, grenade, uh, caltrops," Dean recited. "Not much helpful. Um...pocket lint, a piece of gum..."

Grenade? Caltrops? Where the hell had he stocked up? MacGyver's Emporium? "Gimme something and lean me against a wall," Sam directed. They were going to get caught any second, and he was not going to be the reason Dean got claws buried in his back, especially since Sam wasn't really expecting to survive long since he was in the process of turning into one of the monsters.

"No, Sam –" A hiss right behind them prompted Dean to stop talking and duck them both down, almost toppling them. "Air horn!" Dean announced, then it was blaring. He didn't stop moving them forward even when Sam tripped over a protruding rock and Dean was practically carrying him. Sam's ears were ringing so much that he couldn't tell if they were still being followed, especially when Dean blew the horn again.

Sam could see the light at the end of the tunnel now – literally – as the passage suddenly widened and revealed an opening to their right. The light shining in cast their disjointed shadows on the wall, and Sam could see that there was a third shadow right behind them, poised to strike. With all the strength he had, he used his good arm to push Dean forward and turn himself around, automatically trying to lift his right arm to deflect the oncoming blow.

He had timed it perfectly. There was, indeed, a lapsae right behind them. Sam cried out just from lifting the arm, and again when claws made contact with his cast. He landed hard on his back, his body too shocked by the sudden pain to allow him to move immediately. He stared up as the mothman, the huge one, reared back and prepared to strike again.

Then Dean was there, jumping inside of the monster's reach and darting back out, leaving his belt knife buried in its eye. Sam would have been amazed at Dean's speed if he hadn't been too busy trying to draw oxygen into his body. Dean grabbed Sam's lapels and dragged him through the opening in the rock as fast as he could move.

Flailing at its face and roaring, the lapsae followed. Sam tried to help them move faster by pushing with his feet, but he could see that they were going to be caught any second.

"Shit, wait!" Dean called, and Sam twisted his head around to see Linda, bloody and propped in a seated position against a large rock, pointing a shotgun at them. He flinched hard when the weapon boomed.

The lapsae bellowed, and it belatedly occurred to Sam that she'd shot at the monster, not them. Linda cocked the weapon and fired the second barrel. The mothman made another sound, more anger than pain, and retreated back into the tunnel.

"He won't give up for long," Linda warned hoarsely. "I have a couple more shells. Get out of here and I'll hold him off as long as I can." She reloaded by feel, and Sam took a better look at her.

The side of Linda's shirt was bloody all down one side, and there was also blood around her lips. Her breathing wheezed in and out, and one hip was definitely screwed up. Her skin was a shade of gray that Sam knew all too well meant she was dying. He wondered if that was what had prompted her change of heart from active participant in feeding Sam to the lapsae to protecting him from one of them.

Dean frowned at her. His frown darkened when he got a good look at Sam, and Sam had a feeling that more of his skin was changing. Dean had his gun in his hand, not pointing at Linda, but still at the ready. "I'll come back for you," he said to Linda. It was a very Dean thing to do – to survey a complex situation and make a quick decision. And to not want to leave a human behind to die, no matter what she had done.

"Save it," she coughed, and Sam could hear her chest rattle. Her voice was matter-of-fact. "I know what I did, what I helped them do. And I was a Hunter once. I deserve to die here." She coughed again.

Guilt and indecision filled Dean's eyes, though maybe you wouldn't see it if you didn't know him as well as Sam did. He must have caused her injuries, Sam surmised, and felt bad even though she'd been one of his kidnappers and would-be-murderers.

"No, we can help you," Sam argued, knowing she'd never make it to a hospital.

Linda ignored him and looked at Dean. "Get outta here, kid, and take your brother. Spend time together before...before. Takes like 2 days." She narrowed her eyes. "And then do the right thing. I'll take care of Mack, like I should've a long time ago."

Dean glanced back over his shoulder and started pulling Sam up. Sam resisted for a second. "But…"

Linda ignored him again. "Careful out there. Chet headed that way. Our weapons and quads are buried, but he can get the stuff from the van." Almost to herself, she added, "He didn't even slow down when he saw me."

Dean forced Sam to his feet. "Thanks," he said gruffly, clearly torn on his feelings for the woman. He held out a hand and handed her a grenade. "From one of the traps," he added. "And don't worry. Chet won't get far." He gave her a wolfish grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Linda nodded. "Thanks. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry." Her eyes flicked to Sam, then back to Dean. "Now you really need to leave." There were more sounds of movement behind them as Dean pulled Sam's arm across his shoulder again. Linda fished something small out of a pocket and tossed it to Dean. "828 River Road, unit 16. Code 2783. Enter it, wait until it resets, then enter it again before opening it or you'll get a nasty surprise." She turned to face the tunnel and cocked the shotgun again in clear dismissal.

Sam wanted to say something to acknowledge the fact that she was going to be dead in a few minutes, was going to blow herself up to take out the last monster, but words didn't seem adequate. Besides, it took most of his concentration to stay upright, even with Dean doing most of the work. Moving like a couple of drunk frat boys, they stumbled their way to the wide cave opening. Sam bit back a groan at the sight of the slope they had to navigate to get out of there. It wasn't terribly steep, but it was at least a mile over loose stone and uneven ground to get to the vehicle parked at the bottom. "At least we're going down," Dean offered as if sensing Sam's dismay.

Sam just snorted in response, then very nearly fell on the first step as the ground was even less stable than it looked. In fact, everything seemed determined to bring him down, from bumps and dips hidden by debris to loose pebbles that scooted out from underneath his feet. His arm throbbed from all the movement and his head was soon spinning. His skin was quickly growing hot, almost feeling like it was too tight. "Maybe you should just roll me down," he suggested, mostly so he didn't whine.

"Don't tempt me," Dean grunted back. As strong as he was, he had to work very hard to keep Sam from falling.

They struggled on until Sam could hardly think about anything except how hot his neck and chest felt. Without warning, an explosion thundered through the air. Both men threw themselves forward automatically, but the only thing that reached them was a light rain of dirt. Sam turned his head and watched the smaller particles that hung in the air catching the rays of sunlight. Something that heralded the death of a human being shouldn't be that beautiful, he thought, watching as the motes drifted and turned, reflecting all different colors. It seemed almost like they were moving in slow motion, making sure that he didn't miss a single color.

"Sam! C'mon, Sam. Work with me here," Dean said, and Sam blinked hard, not sure what his brother was upset about.

"Huh?"

"You with me?" Dean asked.

Sam frowned. "Yeah. I wasn't?"

The relief was plain in Dean's expression. "Let's get up. We're not that far from the truck they hauled you here in. We'll get you back to the motel room and I'll cook up a nice big batch of holy water. Fix you right up."

Sam slowly realized that he must have been pretty out of it. When Dean babbled like that, it was a sure sign that he was worried. "Okay," he answered. He almost commented on the fact that if Linda really had been a Hunter, holy water would probably be one of the first things she tried against the lapsae, but Dean didn't need the reminder.

Of course, he was probably also feeling the weight of all the human deaths. Based on what he'd said earlier, not only were Linda and Dan dead, but Dan's father too. Every death during a hunt was hard – it always felt like they should have been able to prevent it. And despite all Linda had done, Dean had literally handed her the means of her own destruction. Sam wondered how she'd gone from hunting evil to protecting it.

"Sam, seriously. Do not make me carry you the rest of the way." Dean sounded both insistent and weary. Sam jumped a little. Apparently, he'd drifted again.

"Sorry," he mumbled, using the arm that was around Dean's shoulders again to help pull himself up. Blackness curled at his peripherals but didn't advance farther.

Dean started walking again before the world had really settled, so Sam just focused on lifting his feet and taking as much of his weight as he could and ignored everything else. In the back of his mind, he knew that Dean was worried about darkness falling before they made it to safety, so he did everything he could to ignore the pain and heat he felt and just keep moving. Stay conscious. Don't be a burden. Don't think about turning into a monster. He repeated those mantras in his mind over and over. Awake. Moving. Not a burden. Not a monster.

Dean's voice was just background noise until they stopped moving and he said, "You won't turn into a monster. You did fine keeping your canoe feet underneath you. Climb in now."

Sam was confused. He had no idea what Dean was talking about or why they were standing next to a big truck instead of Dean's car. "Impala?" he asked, moving to scratch his neck and wincing when a sharp pain reminded him that his arm was broken.

"We're just gonna drive this to get to her, okay? Hop in."

Sam obeyed, vaguely recalling that he'd been kidnapped. He might be struggling to figure out what was going on, but he trusted Dean. He blinked down at a body twitching on the ground. "Chet?" he asked, the name coming to him.

Dean grinned as he fastened Sam's seat belt. "Since he likes booby traps so much and had the bad sense to leave some tasers lying around, I set up a little surprise." He tossed the man in the back with a lot less care than he'd used helping Sam.

Sam couldn't really follow Dean's meaning, but he remembered that he didn't like tasers because one had hurt Dean badly in the past. He wanted to say as much, but then Dean got in the vehicle, hot-wired it, and started driving, and the thought drifted away. Sam closed his eyes, not unconscious but not completely with it either. After a while, they moved to the car, and Sam sighed, feeling inexplicably safer. He refused the back seat and instead dozed in his usual spot. He sort of wondered what had happened to what's-his-name. Maybe he was in the trunk. Sam couldn't really hold onto that thought either.

Even mostly asleep, Sam felt like he was burning up from the inside out, like his insides were molten lava and his skin on fire, but he was so exhausted even that couldn't really keep him aware. Dean talked a lot, but other than that, time ran together for Sam.

Eventually, Dean opened Sam's door, and Sam tried to tell him that he better not touch Sam's skin or he'd get burned too, but the words didn't seem to come out quite right. Dean touched the side of Sam's neck and swore. "You really are burning up," he muttered, but that didn't stop him from pulling Sam out of the car and mostly carrying him into a room.

"Being boiled like a lobster," Sam complained. He wasn't literally in a pot of boiling water...was he? "Not food. Don't eat me," he insisted.

Dean didn't listen. He was muttering words Sam couldn't comprehend.

"...ut sanaretur steritas aquæ...adjuratus per eum..."

The words and their cadence brought Sam back, so far back.

The church was cavernous, but barely lit. A sea of candles burned at the other end of the long room from where Sam stood. He wasn't hiding – he'd told Dad that he'd read his journal and knew all about hunting, which had immediately given him access to many places he'd been denied before – but he was glad for the shroud of the darkness. Dad stood near the candles with a robed man whose face Sam couldn't see but whose hair looked white, as far as the uncertain light and his distance revealed. They had talked too quietly for Sam to hear much, though he'd caught Pastor Jim's name.

Dean wasn't next to Dad, but he wasn't next to Sam, either. Ever since Sam had learned the truth about their nomadic, warriors-in-training lives, he'd been not exactly angry but...disappointed, maybe. He claimed he wasn't upset with Sam, but it was clear he wasn't happy either. He was across the dark sanctuary where he could see everything that went on but still keep an eye on both Sam and the exit.

Sam turned his attention back to the two men, their faces nothing but dancing shadows in the flickering candlelight. The priest had set a bowl near the candles and began to speak over it in a deep baritone voice, beautiful words that Sam didn't understand but recognized as Latin.

"...ut fias aqua exorcisata, ad effugandam…"

Sam inched forward as the man continued, trying to remember as many of the words as he could so he could look up their meaning later. When he stopped talking, Dad filled a flask and several other receptacles from the bowl. "Thank you," he told the priest solemnly.

"You're welcome. God be with you," the other man replied. "Now please excuse me, but I have many more candles to light before the Requium Mass tonight."

"I could help," Sam offered, surprising himself. He had a million questions about what had just happened and had the idea that the priest would answer more openly than Dad or Dean.

The priest turned and smiled and Sam saw that he wasn't as old as he'd first thought. "That's very kind of you, son," he said. "But I always light them all myself. It's part of my personal preparation."

Sam watched him light the little candles the whole time they walked out. To his surprise, Dad told him all about holy water and its uses. From that day on, Sam would swear he smelled beeswax whenever he made or picked up holy water.

"Candles," he mumbled to Dean, who was propping him up and encouraging him to drink. "Burning, burning." He was pretty sure that he said it aloud, but it was hard to hold onto what was real and what was in his head, especially with the heat crawling over more and more of his body.

"Drink, Sammy. It will help," Dean promised, and Sam obeyed as much as he could. He coughed out at least as much as he swallowed, but Dean didn't seem mad about it. He was pretty sure Dean had laid wet cloths over the worst of the heat, so maybe he'd already put out the fire and Sam was feeling something else. Or maybe the candles were a requiem for him and he was dying.

"Aqua benedicta," he sighed, starting to sink back down onto the bed. "Votum. Requiem."

"Shsh," Dean said. "Get some sleep. You'll be just fine."

Sam disagreed, but he closed his eyes anyway, watching candles flicker behind his eyelids.

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AN: The phrase ex humano corpore is simply Latin for "from a human body." And while we know that in the SPN universe, there was actually a way to cure vamps and werewolves, the guys didn't know that yet at this point in the show. I got it and all of the Latin from Google translate.

The words Sam heard Dean and the priest say to bless the water I got from SuperWiki (supernatural dot fandom dot com) under "Holy water blessing."

Sam's mumbling means holy water, votive, and memorial.

MewWinx96: Thank you! You are very kind.

sylvia37: Pithy! Your response made me laugh.

Lilac Letter: No need to apologize, though it's lovely to see your name and a nice long review! Others have said that they aren't getting notifications either. I'm so glad that my stories scratch the SPN itch for you and remind you of episodes. I promise that there will be more explanations yet about the mothmen and the people who seem to half worship them. The Star Wars / Trek thing made me laugh so hard! I must have been half asleep when I wrote that note up. I giggle every time I think of it! I'm picturing Spock staring down an Ewok. "Captain, it appears to be a bipedal form of tribble." LOL! Thanks for the heads up on that, and for reading and commenting.

stedan: Right? For Sam it certainly does. Dean actually dodged the spit that was aimed at him, so at least one of the boys isn't transforming into a moth/flying squirrel/frilled lizard monster, though the mothman did try to choose him. Nope, you were right on with what the spit does. The guys will find out soon a bit more of the reasoning behind the crazy people. And thanks – after I described the mothmen appearance, it occurred to me that they kind of resembled Dean's amulet.

muffinroo: It's good to know that mothman Sam would have a home with you! I laughed my head off at the comment that you'd turn the bug light down for him. My cat loves to catch and eat moths, but even he (at 23 lbs) would hesitate to go after one that was Sasquatch-sized!

ScealaiTheRakker: Hello! What a nice thing to say. Misidentified owl! LOL! I wanted them to be scary, which is why I added the weird frilled lizard-type of halo thing. I'm so glad that you liked the John memory.

ncsupnatfan: I love all of your questions! I love long reviews! You are absolutely right about the Sam changing. No promises about who will or won't be called or how Sam will get out of it...just that he will. And he won't turn into a mothman. Probably.

Colby's girl: You are smart, and I adore smart readers! Not only is Sam in the proverbial fire, he thinks he's literally on fire too. Poor guy.

sfaulkenberry: Right? And lapsae looks good to me...of course, I made the word up. Happy you're enjoying the ride.

quincymason1970: Me too!

Monanell: I love all of the speculation! Slowly turn Sam into a monster? Why yes, yes I will. I'm so glad that you enjoy my stories, and your comments are very kind.

Timelady66: Nice! I didn't think about the fact that on the show it was usually Dean, but you're absolutely right. You have to know that I do love to flip things around!

Anne: Thank you so much! And I love the insights you have about the cult-like relationship Chet, et.al had with the lapsae. Does that make Chet their Jim Jones, leading them all to their deaths? Naturally, he's still alive. Isn't that the way it seems to go?

Kathy: Woohoo! My physics were good! Janice can tell you that I was worried about it. At least the guys are out of the cave, but far from all good.

Guest: Thanks! Nice guess, too.

bagelcat1: No worries, ever. So glad you liked the flashback! We got another explosion in this chapter, though it's sad too. I love the theory that Dean smelled like Sam...that would have been a fantastic idea. I too find Chet a lot scarier than the actual monsters in this story.