The long wait is over, and here's finally chapter 7. I can't promise there won't be any cliffhangers at the end of it, though, you'll have to read on and see for yourselves ;) Thanks for your feedback for chapter 6, I'm glad you're still enjoying this. So am I!

Chapter 7

Sam glanced at Blair not really surprised to find him dozing. He debated trying to keep him awake, then decided against it. Blair had appeared alert and coherent until then and, considering his strings of anecdotes about him and Ellison's adventures that read more like comic book stuff than real life, his memory was working fine. If he had a concussion, it probably wasn't bad enough to justify Sam hassling him before the others arrived.

Speaking of the others…Sam was getting worried. It would have taken only one missed check-in to send Dean into frantic worry and Sam already knew Ellison was no better. They knew where Sam and Blair had gone and Blair's car was parked in front of Agatha's house. It couldn't take that long for Dean and Ellison to figure out where they were, especially in Ellison used his senses to locate Blair. So why wasn't the cavalry there already?

Sam struggled up and went to the entrance of the basemen again. He tentatively probed some of the beams but stopped immediately when he felt them shift the wrong way. He really did not think moving them from his side was safe. It had a lot of chances of bringing everything down on them. He went back to where he had been sitting and took out Agatha's journal. While he didn't want to waste the batteries from his flashlight, he wanted to figure out what Agatha and her family had known. It might help Sam realize what exactly they were up against.

"What're you doing?"

Sam looked up at the sound of Blair's voice.

"Reading Agatha's journal," he said. "I thought it might come in handy. I took it with me before Cerberus came."

"Good thinking," Blair said. "So how come you haven't told me about it before?"

Sam shrugged.

"You were keeping me entertained," he quipped. "How's the leg?"

"Hasn't stopped being sprained," Blair replied. "How's the…uhhh…?"

Sam looked up at Blair's hesitation. He could not really remember what had happened after they had fallen – only that the fall had obviously reminded him of his jump in the Cage and that had obviously triggered something. Sam had no idea what he had said and done during those few minutes, but he did remember Blair had looked pretty freaked. Whatever it was, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Are you gonna ask me about my mental health now?" Sam asked wearily.

Blair snorted.

"No, I don't think I wanna go there. I'm definitely not qualified enough for that. But seriously any…uhh…flashbacks from wherever?"

Well, that was as good a term as any, Sam thought.

"I'm fine. No flashbacks. I'm sure what happened then won't happen again."

He was hoping that would convince Blair not to tattle to Dean when they met.

"Anyway," he said changing the subject abruptly, "There are some interesting things here about why someone would summon Cerberus."

"Do tell," Blair urged him.

Sam glanced at the notes.

"The first is to gain entrance to the world of the dead. You summon Cerberus and keep him distracted while you go into his realm and do whatever you feel like doing there. Get someone out I suppose."

Blair nodded.

"Roofied cakes sound easier to tell you the truth."

Sam grinned. Dean would have probably called him the ultimate geek for even getting the reference.

"Of course, there are other reasons. General madness and world domination is another, only you've got to be careful because it might turn and bite you in the ass."

"Quite literally this time," Blair commented.

Sam rolled his eyes. He frowned as he read the next lines.

"That's not good," he muttered.

He sensed Blair shift towards him then stop abruptly, probably as the pain in his knee registered.

"Stay put," he muttered distractedly. "Listen to this: enough sacrifices to Cerberus could bring someone from what's called here the long sleep without hope."

He heard Blair gasp.

"Does this mean bring someone back from the dead? Is that what this is about?"

Sam shook his head.

"I don't think so. It keeps talking about someone who is lost in the realm of the dead. Now lost might seem like…well, temporarily dead I suppose for want of a better word. Maybe someone who's on life support, I suppose?"

"Or in a coma."

There was something in Blair's tone that alerted Sam.

"Something you want to tell me?"

Blair leaned his head against the wall. He looked unbelievably tired.

"Only that I think I know what the endgame is. Or rather, who's supposed to benefit from it. Man, Jim's gonna freak when he finds out."

xxxXXXxxx

The ringing in his ears was the first thing that Jim noticed when he came back to himself. It was the only thing he could focus on, as it continued hard and unrelenting, beating against his skull. Jim had never told Blair – it would have felt like putting too much pressure on the kid – but he had always feared he would die during one of his sensory overloads. After all, the human body was only hardwired for that much input, even his. And he was quickly approaching forty. There was a history of heart attacks in his family and Sandburg did not need to lecture him about what he ate. Jim knew what he was risking.

Of course, Jim was sure if Sandburg ever found out his secret fear, he'd be quick to tackle it with his usual wild ideas – and a depressing decrease in the amount of greasy food at the dinner table. Maybe even a severe rationing of his breakfast donuts. There was a reason why Jim kept quiet about some things.

A part of his mind was baffled that he was capable of thinking about inane things like breakfast donuts and potential heart attacks. Another part recognized this as the concussion he was definitely experiencing. At least, that's what it felt like with his head pounding and his nausea. After all, Jim had had plenty of concussions to know exactly how they felt. The million dollar question was, however, why did he have one now?

He tried to sort things in his mind. There had been a car chase, hadn't there? No, a dog. But that didn't seem right. He wouldn't be in a ditch now simply because he'd try swerving so as not to hit a dog. Besides, there weren't many dogs in the middle of the road in Cascade.

Jim opened his eyes and closed them again immediately. The sun felt as if it had a personal vendetta against him and wanted nothing more but to pluck out his eyeballs. He groaned, leaning his head against the car seat. What did Blair usually say? Imagine the senses are separate from you, Jim, working to your advantage and not against you. They can't cause you pain. They can too, Chief, he thought ruefully. And where was Blair, anyway? He could hear a heartbeat close by, so he knew even without opening his eyes that he wasn't alone in the car. But it wasn't Blair's heartbeat.

The notion was enough to have Jim panicking himself to full alertness. The adrenaline jolt at the thought of Sandburg potentially in danger was enough to clear the fog from his mind and make everything incredibly sharp and pain free. He opened his eyes again and this time the sun did not bother him that much.

He noticed Dean Winchester lying in the passenger seat and it immediately came back to him: the strange deaths, the arrival of the Winchesters, Sandburg's admission that he was being targeted, Moira, her connection to Alex. The last thought made his skin crawl.

To distract himself for than anything, Jim turned to Dean. His hearing already told him that the younger man was breathing fine and his heartbeat was regular. His state of unconsciousness was probably caused by the gash on his forehead. The window on Dean's side had shattered and that probably did not help things.

"Man, I just had that window fixed," Jim muttered.

They probably had not been unconscious for long, but Jim knew they needed to hurry up and get back on the road. First, he was going to assess Dean's state. If things looked good, they would move on. If not, Jim would have to dump Dean in the hospital. Dean was not going to like it, but he was going to have to suck it up. If Blair was in danger, Jim did not need anyone slowing him down.

He reached out and tapped Dean on the shoulder.

"Winchester," he called. "Wake up."

Dean came to swinging, and Jim barely had time to draw back. He placed his arms in front of him to show he was not a threat.

"Woah there, cowboy. I mean, I know you always feel like punching me in the face, but let's keep it professional until we get the job done."

The wild look in Dean's eyes seemed to vanish. He shook his head to get rid of the dizziness.

"Don't move that much," Jim instructed. "You've got glass all over your seat."

Dean looked at his cut palms and made to touch his forehead. He winced as his hand made contact with his cut.

"Yeah, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Jim advised sympathetically.

Dean let his hand drop.

"What the hell happened?"

Jim frowned.

"Technically, you ran us off the road."

Dean's eyes widened.

"Cerberus was there."

Jim shrugged.

"If you say so. You still ran us off the road."

Dean was becoming increasingly agitated.

"He's not here now," he said. "Cerberus, I mean. He's gone."

Jim shrugged. He turned his attention to the car and started the engine. He was relieved it was still working.

"Ok," he said. "It'll move, just a bit slower than usual. We'll just clean the glass off your seat and head out."

But Dean shook his head.

"No time," he hissed.

Jim bit his tongue. Keeping Dean Winchester alive was, apparently, a full-time job and he was ready to hand in his two weeks' notice.

"I can't drive when there's glass all over your seat. One wrong move and you'll do yourself real harm."

Dean shook his head stubbornly.

"I'll stay still. We have to go now, Ellison. Think about it, Cerberus attacked us, but then he disappeared. Why do you think that happened?"

Jim definitely did not want to answer that question. Anticipating the thought patterns of a mythological dog was very much Blair's thing – and definitely not his.

"It thought we were dead?" he asked half-heartedly.

Dean rolled his eyes with that patronizing "you poor ignorant civilian" look that had Jim want to smack him upside the head.

"It's the dog of the underworld, Ellison. It knows when someone's dead."

Which, Jim supposed, was a fair point.

"Alright genius, what's your idea?"

Dean for once ignored the quip.

"There's only one reason Cerberus would do that. Or rather – whoever is controlling Cerberus. They want us to be unable to get to Sam and Blair in time."

xxXXxxx

Blair's revelation worried Sam. He knew now that Moira's attacks were personal, that she had been aiming for Blair the entire time and it was not a coincidence that the next attack was to take place on the anniversary of Blair's drowning and subsequent resurrection. The next victim had been intended to be Blair all along. Of course, now Sam and Dean had also been added to the mix and Sam suspected that was not a good thing. The other victims had been the standard heart stopped and were resuscitated type of thing. He and Dean, they had actually been dead. More than once – plenty of times in Dean's case if one counted the stint at the Mystery Spot, although Dean kept insisting that did not count at all. The point was, with what the two of them had, it was surely enough mojo to have Cerberus wake every coma patient in the state of Washington.

Sam glanced at Blair who was dozing again. He blinked, feeling drowsy himself. He tried to take a real breath and sensed the tightness in his chest. He froze. The air was getting thin. That was why they were both having trouble keeping themselves awake.

Where the hell was Dean? Sam did not believe his brother would be so nonchalant after Sam missed several check ins. He had to have been on his way and it couldn't have taken him that long to find them. Especially not with Ellison around. So what was happening?

Sam was starting to worry something had happened to Dean while he was stuck there in some random basement. The thought nearly had him running up the stairs and using the last of his strength to try and free them. But whatever had fallen on the entrance to the basement, Sam had already established it could only be moved from the outside. Willing things to be otherwise was not going to change anything.

Since Blair was unconscious, Sam tried praying to Castiel. The angel was conspicuously silent. He was either busy with his sheriff of Heaven stint, or he was upset Sam had tricked him into spilling the beans on Sam's time without a soul. Or maybe some other force was interfering, making it impossible for Cas to get to him. Too bad, Sam thought with some amusement. He would have loved to set Sandburg loose on Cas. That would have been a sight.

Sam giggled at the thought, then shook his head. The sense of euphoria taking hold of him was not good.

"Oxygen deprivation," he mumbled. "Euphoria's one of the symptoms. How much longer do we have anyway?"

He drifted in and out for a while, strange images teasing on the edge of his awareness. Memories, maybe, from behind the wall. He tried to ignore them but did not know how long he would be able to do that. If they did not get out of there, soon, Sam was sure the situation was bound to bring a few things to the surface. If lack of oxygen did not kill him, remembering almost two hundred years of Lucifer's personal attention fixed on him might.

xxXXXxxx

Dean and Ellison reached Agatha's place to find it empty. The front door had been broken, though and the back door was wide open.

"They were here," Jim said. "Something must have happened."

"Cerberus?" Dean asked. "It had to be him."

Jim grimaced, still not comfortable about the idea of a mythological dog walking around the streets of Cascade.

"Whatever it was, it tore the door clean off its hinges. There's no sign of any struggle, though. No blood, no indication anything happened here."

"And the back door is open," Dean completed. "Which means Sam and Blair probably left through there."

They had discovered the Impala parked in front, but no sign of Sam and Blair anywhere.

"They couldn't get back to the car," Dean went on, "Not if Cerberus, and maybe even Moira were in front. So where would they go?"

He followed Jim outside through the back door.

"They could be anywhere. But if they weren't in trouble, they would have called."

Dean was starting to feel more and more restless. The fact that he did not have Sam there made him feel as if he was missing a lung. It wasn't an exaggeration. Dean knew the feeling, had experienced it for a year when Sam had been gone. And now Sam was back, truly back, soul and all, one hundred per cent Dean's little brother. He was not sure he and Sam had separated for more than a few hours since the whole re-soulling deal. Dean could not handle another separation.

He spotted the under-construction house. It would be a good hiding place. It was empty, no one would look for them there.

"Let's try over there," he said.

There was no sign of Cerberus and Dean could only hope that was a good thing. Now that he knew what he was from Ellison, he was sure Moira would not stop siccing her demonic dog on them - especially on Sandburg.

They reached the house when Ellison suddenly stiffened.

"They're here. But something's wrong."

"What?" Dean asked sharply. "How can you tell?"

"I hear two separate heartbeats," Jim said. "One's definitely Sandburg. The other I presume is Sam's. But we have to hurry."

Dean did not waste time asking anymore questions. He sensed the urgency in Jim's voice and knew it wasn't good.

Ellison headed towards where a pile of cement and wood had fallen over the basement.

"Help me move this."

"Oh crap," Dean muttered, hurrying to do as Ellison told.

He could see for himself how the things had fallen and how they were covering the entrance to the basement. If there was no other ventilation system down there, then the air would be completely cut off.

"How long has Sam been missing?" Dean thought, then dismissed the question as unhelpful. Sam was alive, that much he knew – and would have probably known even without Jim's mention of heartbeats. Sam was alive and that was all that mattered.

Still, the thought of Sam trapped somewhere from which he could not get out hit much too close to home for Dean. He had been warned, after all, when he got Sam's soul back and Death had put up the Wall. If the Wall came crashing down…It was why Dean had decided to keep away from Bobby for the time being. He knew Sam. Sam took guilt to a level that broke the sound barrier. He needed to fix any perceived wrongs and Dean was afraid that if Sam started digging into what he had done while soulless, he might release memories from the Cage.

But what about the situation at hand? Sam was down there, without air, in the dark…Dean shivered. He remembered his own Hell. Suffocation had been a preferred method of torture. The inability to breathe, the difficulties you had forming thoughts, the hallucinations that came with it, the helplessness…surely Lucifer had dished that out and more to Sam while in the Cage. Dean knew about PTSD. He had started doing extensive research the week Sam's soul was back in place. He knew how easily such an incident could trigger unwanted memories. And in Sam's case…

"Come on, come on," he muttered, shifting the debris.

They were moving too slowly, he thought. He knew, rationally, that they had to be cautious unless they wanted to bring the entire house down on Sam and Blair. But the thought that he was so close to Sam and could not help him yet, it nearly drove him mad.

"Nearly done," Jim said. "I think there's a light in the basement."

So at least one of them had been conscious and fine enough to switch on a light. Dean was beginning to feel more hopeful although he knew he could not allow himself to relax.

Finally, they had all the debris cleared. The stairs leading to the basement were more or less intact, although they descended carefully. If they brought those down, it would be next to impossible to get back up, not unless they wanted to dig a tunnel.

Dean spotted Sam immediately. He was lying close to the furthest wall. Blair was lying nearby. Dean all but ran to Sam. He reached out and touched his brother's forehead.

"Sam. Hey, Sammy. Think it's time you woke up."

Sam opened clouded eyes. He looked confused and frightened. Dean nearly sat back on his heels. He was not used to that look on his brother's face. Sam might have worn most of his emotions on his sleeve, but he hid his fear even from Dean – or maybe especially from Dean. Sam had this weird notion that he had something to prove, some image to live up to when it came to Dean. And Dean had not gotten the chance to beat it out of him yet.

"Sammy," Dean said, swallowing hard, because what was he supposed to do with that fear.

"Dean?" Sam asked dazed and slightly panicked. "Dean, what are you doing here?"

Dean decided to try for light-heartedness.

"Rescuing you, princess. That's what happens when you decide to play damsel in distress."

Sam's eyes widened. If anything, he looked even more panicked.

"Dean, you can't be here!"

All right, that's it, Dean thought. He was bringing Sam back to reality.

"Sam, you fell through a damaged floor and got stuck in a basement. Now, you've got some oxygen deprivation, so whatever else you think is happening, that's just your custard trying to recharge, got that?"

He was pleased to see Sam start to look a little more with it – and a lot more relieved, which confirmed Dean's fears that Sam had been convinced he was somewhere else when he had woken up – and Dean definitely did not want to think about where that somewhere else was.

Dean glanced at Ellison who was currently busy trying to rouse Sandburg. He thought he heard a vague "Go away Jim, five more minutes". He snorted and turned to Sam.

"You back with me now?"

Sam's hand drifted to his head.

"Unfortunately," he mumbled.

Dean helped him sit up. Sam turned slightly towards where Ellison was still trying to rouse Sandburg.

"Watch his knee," he said. "It's messed up pretty bad."

"I saw that," Ellison said tersely. "You both need a medic."

Sam seemed to notice that their rescuers were also looking a little worse for wear.

"So do you. Dean, are you alight?"

Dean smirked.

"You know me, Sammy. I'm always alright."

Sam was frowning at him skeptically. He seemed to remember something then. His eyes widened and he grabbed Dean's hand.

"Dean, we're running out of time."

Dean shook his head.

"What are you talking about?"

"Cerberus is going to kill Sandburg tomorrow. Probably us too. And we know why. Moira has a plan."

Here it is the gang finally reunited and more or less in one piece. I hope this will keep you satisfied until the next weekend :)

The reference Blair makes to roofied cakes when he and Sam discuss Cerberus is in connection to Virgil's epic poem The Aeneid. At one point, Aeneas, the hero of the poem, enters the Underworld accompanied by one of the priestesses of Apollo. They encounter Cerberus and the priestess throws a loaf laced with sleeping herbs at him so they can pass by unharmed. I did warn you I was a nerd, haven't I?

The stuff about offering sacrifices to Cerberus so he could wake up someone in a coma is strictly my invention, though, so don't try this at home kids :P