Chapter 11: Shattered Heart

Author's Note: You might need a Kleenex for this one.

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Dean started running as fast as he could towards their room. "SAM! SAM!" he shouted. He was going to beat the horseman to their room but only by a few seconds. Still, at least it would be enough time to warn Sam that the danger was coming. "SAM!"

Several people stepped out of their rooms to see what all the shouting was about but Dean ignored them. Then the door to their room opened and out stepped Sam.

"Dean? What the hell?"

"Get inside," Dean demanded. He shoved Sam hard and ran into the room. He slammed the door and bolted it shut.

"What's happening?"

"He's here," Dean said. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a long silver blade pierced through the door just a few inches from Dean's head.

"Oh shit!" Sam gasped and grabbed Dean's arm to pull him away from the door.

"He's not after me," Dean said, jerking his arm free. "Go in the bathroom, get out through the window. I'll hold him off!"

"Are you crazy! He'll kill you!"

The door was suddenly smashed to bits and the horseman entered the room with his sword swinging.

Dean grabbed its arm and tried to wrestle for control of the weapon. The horseman used his free hand to grab Dean by the throat and throw him across the room. He hit the wall and fell to the floor.

Sam jumped back, falling over the bed, as the horseman then swung his sword straight for Sam's head. He felt the wind against his neck where the sword had sliced though the air. Sam scooted back with his hands and feet to avoid the downward thrusts that were now coming his way.

Dean jumped on the things back and beat on it. The horseman clawed at his back, trying to rip Dean off. Sam used the distraction to climb over his bed to get to Dean's. He grabbed the knife Dean always kept under his pillow. Sam charged the thing and shoved the knife into the ghost's heart, ramming the blade in all the way to the hilt. The horseman didn't even flinch.

It managed to shake off Dean but dropped the sword in the process. The horseman take hold of Sam by the throat with one hand and punched him in the face using its other hand. Then it grabbed Sam by the shoulders like he was a rag doll and threw him. Sam landed on top of the dresser and rolled off onto the floor. Something fell and hit him in the head. It was the book. The blood covered book from Jacob's murder.

Dean was now slashing at the horseman using its own sword against it. Nothing seemed to hurt it. It still had Dean's knife stuck in its chest. The horseman managed to ram its fist into Dean's face and drop him like a stone. Dean rolled on the floor moaning.

Sam looked for Dean's lighter. His brother didn't smoke but he always had a lighter lying around for emergencies.

The horseman bent down and picked up its sword. Sam swallowed hard as he saw it coming for him again. He dived out of the way just as the ghost moved to strike. He saved his head but got slashed across the left shoulder.

"Ahhh!" he cried. Blood began to flow from the wound. Even worse, he dropped the book. He went to grab it but the ghost thrust his sword once more. This time the sword missed Sam and got its tip stuck in the floor. Sam hurried to grab the book again. Just as he wrapped his fingers around it the sword was pulled loose and the horseman managed to swipe it across the right side of Sam's neck.

"NOOOO!" Dean screamed. He ran towards the thing and tackled it with all his might. They both fell to the floor.

Sam had fallen back against the wall in a sitting position. In a daze he raised his hand to touch his neck. When he pulled it away it was covered in blood. He looked down at his chest and was shocked at how much blood there was. It was odd, he really didn't feel any pain, but he knew he must be hurt, and pretty badly to make this much of a mess. Was he dying?

He looked at Dean who was now on top of the thing punching it over and over. Dean was consumed by a blind fury. Sam looked at the side of the bed and saw Dean's lighter on the floor not to far from him. It must have gotten knocked off of the night stand during the commotion. Sam began to crawl towards it. He had to get it before it killed Dean. He might have the upper hand at the moment but that thing was indestructible and Dean wouldn't last much longer.

Finally he grasped the lighter and flicked it open. Once more he leaned back against the wall. He held the flame to the corner of the book and watched as the pages caught fire and began to char and curl. He looked at the horseman and saw that it had stopped fighting. Dean climbed off of it and stood back. He looked at Sam and Sam smiled at him while holding the burning book.

When the book was fully engulfed Sam dropped it to the floor. Suddenly the horseman himself burst into flames and then vanished into thin air. The only thing left was Dean's knife, lying on the floor.

Dean grabbed the blanket off the bed to snuff out the fire before the room itself caught fire. Then he looked at Sam. Dean went into action immediately. He pulled the sheet off the bed and began to apply pressure to Sam's neck.

"Sammy, you did it," he said. "It's gone."

"Good," Sam said. "You're bleeding."

Dean looked down at his own chest and saw a large cut there. It was a just a flesh wound. "Yeah, well you aren't looking so good yourself."

"I've been better," Sam said for the second time that night.

Sirens could he heard coming from the back ground. Help was coming. Dean prayed an ambulance was with them. Sam was hurt really bad and losing too much blood. Dean increased the pressure he was applying to Sam's neck.

"Dean, promise you'll find it."

"Find what?" Dean asked as he used the sheet to wipe some of the blood, not really paying attention to what Sammy was saying.

"The thing that killed Jess. Find it and kill it for me."

Dean's heart began to beat frantically in his chest. This wasn't happening. His brother was not sitting in the floor saying good-bye to him. "We'll find it together. We'll kill it together. That's a promise."

Police cars and two ambulances pulled into the lot. People from other rooms ran to them and told them what they saw.

"Just hang on Sammy. Help's here. You're gonna be fine. Just wait until the chicks see your new scars."

"Dean…"

"Chicks dig scars, ya know."

"Dean…"

"The hotel manager is going to have a fit when he sees this room."

"Dean,"

"What?"

"I'm sorry…I left…yy" Sam's voice faded before he finished the sentence and he lost consciousness.

"Sam! Sammy! Sammy, don't you die! Damn it do you hear me! Don't you die!"

Paramedics rushed into the room and pulled Dean away from Sam.

"Help him!" Dean demanded. "Please! He's my brother. You have to help him."

"Get a stretcher in here now!" the paramedic yelled to the guys outside. "He's losing too much blood!"

Dean watched as two men lifted Sam onto a stretcher and another was applying pressure to Sam's neck while also trying to apply pressure to his arm. Dean felt so useless. He was used to being the one who patched up Sam's cuts and bruises but this time it was out of his hands.

From outside Dean could hear an old lady and her husband telling the sheriff about a man with no head attacking those two poor boys. Then the man asked if the one boy was dead as they wheeled the stretcher out of the room. Suddenly Dean couldn't breath. He moved to follow behind the stretcher but he was holding his chest gasping for air.

"We need another stretcher in here," a paramedic yelled. "This one's about to keel over."

Strong hands grabbed Dean and forced him to sit on the bed.

"I'm all right," Dean insisted. "How's Sammy? Will he be okay?"

The paramedic didn't answer him. Instead Dean had a flash light shined into his eyes and was told to follow a man's finger with his eyes. Dean waved the hand away and again asked, "Is Sammy going to be okay?"

"I don't know, son. We're going to take care of him the best we can." He took Dean's arm again and moved him on to the stretcher.

"What do you mean you don't know? You have to know. He's my little brother. I'm supposed to take care of him." Dean was babbling and the paramedics just looked at each other. They began to strap Dean down but he fought them.

"Let me up. I'm fine. I need to get to Sam! OUCH!" Dean looked at his arm and saw a hypodermic needle quickly injecting him with something.

"This is just to help you relax," someone said.

Someone in the background spoke into a walkie talkie, "We're bringing in a second male victim with several large non-lethal cuts, possible concussion, suffering from shock."

Dean was furious. He wasn't suffering from shock. All he needed was…was…Sammy…yeah…he needed Sammy. "I need…to…get to…my…brother," Dean slurred. "He…can't…die." Dean's eyes closed and he never felt the paramedics strap him down to the stretcher or drive him to the hospital.