Title: Moonstar

Ch. 14: Death Bound

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Only get pleasure, no money. Welcome to the world thru my eyes.

Summary: Dean is crashing after a string of bad jobs. One last, terrible incident pushes him over the edge. He's on a downhill slide and the Moonstar is the last place he needs to be.

A/N: Only a couple more chapters to go. Ya'll are so nice to me. You know I hadn't realized just how much I've been putting Dean through the ringer until I went back and reread the whole thing. Good Lord! And it's just gonna get worse,…..what kind of a sick person am I? Hope you enjoy it!

(Dean) swallowed with an effort, breathing through his mouth, chest rising and falling. His arms gradually relaxed, moving to cross over his stomach, legs sliding down slightly. His eyes never left Sam, who still stood frozen in place.

Sam's nostrils flared suddenly as he inhaled the sickly sweetness that was filling the air. This must be what Dean had been picking up on. It was all Sam could do to keep from gagging. No wonder Dean had been sick.

Behind him David and Linda made a startled sound between them as they picked up on the odor.

The lights stopped flickering but left the room in a dull half light. Thunder still reverberated outside and soft lightning added it's own illumination.

"Let him go." Sam said again.

(Dean) snorted. "I don't want him. But I have no choice now. Don't." he warned as Sam stepped forward. "I don't want to hurt him, don't make me." A grimace tightened his eyes and mouth.

"You are hurting him!" Sam replied angrily.

(Dean's) eyes closed briefly, opened again. "No. But my presence is only making it easier for him to hurt himself. The damage was done. The longer I remain the worse it becomes." He hugged himself tighter.

"Then let him go!" Sam barked.

"I can't"

"Why? What do you want? If you want help, let us help you but, please…let him go. He can't take much more of this. He's sick." Sam tried not to beg but it came out sounding that way.

(Dean) nodded in that odd slow way, brushing the sudden sweat from his forehead. "Yes, he's is ill, but that's not where the real damage lies." Sam could see Dean's body was starting to shake, his face flushing.

"What do you want?" Sam demanded, muscles bunching in his jaw, hands fisting. He stepped closer despite the warning and the fact that his closeness made (Dean) draw back into himself again.

"I need him to set us free!" (Dean) cried. His hands clamped over his face and he started to sob brokenly. His hand shot out as Sam moved. "Stay back!" He ordered, eyes up and glittering dangerously, tear tracks streaking his face. He slowly pushed himself up the wall, using the flats of his hands to support himself.

Dean's body was trembling violently, dripping sweat and Sam was afraid he was going to have a seizure if this didn't stop. Another clap of thunder clattered the window glass.

"We can set you free!" Sam exclaimed desperately. "We can help you move on! Let us help you. Please! We just need to know where that bastard left you!"

"He won't let us go!" (Dean) moaned in anguish and doubled over, hands clawed into his hair. "He won't let us go!" He tumbled forward as Sam jumped to support him, David hesitating only a second before joining him. Dean collapsed limply between them as Linda cried out.

Together they pulled Dean back onto the bed, heat billowing off of him, clothing sweat soaked.

"Get some water!" Sam spat, checking Dean's eyes. His heart hammered under Sam's hand. "C'mon, Dean!" Sam ordered in a voice rivaling their father's. "Wake up! Right now!"

Dean suddenly arched off the bed as he gasped in a lungful of air and started coughing.

Sam collapsed on the bed next to him, with his face in his hands. He reached out with David's assistance and helped Dean sit up.

"You okay?" He asked, searching Dean's face. Dean blinked and finally nodded. Sam held the water to Dean's lips. Dean grasped the glass and tried to gulp it down but Sam wouldn't let him, forcing him to take small swallows between his coughs.

Linda slowly came up to the bed and stood behind David, watching with a look somewhere between fear, confusion and awe. "Is he all right?' She asked timidly.

Dean finished the water and fell back against the pillows, "Son of a bitch…." he whispered hoarsely. "What the fuck happened?"

Sam went into the bathroom and came back with a wet cloth. Dean's face was still flushed andhis skinwas much too warm but he seemed to be Dean again. Sam wearily folded the cloth and put it on Dean's forehead. Dean closed his eyes. He really had a headache now. He could feel every beat of his heart in his temples. His body felt drained, beyond exhaustion.

How much more of this shit could he handle?

"She's gone?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded again. "I don't know what happened….I was …" His eyes flicked to Sam's face and then to the floor, "I could feel her getting inside me but I couldn't stop her…." he cleared his throat. "I don't know what happened….but she's gone." He looked sick, body shuddering.

"All right, that's it." Sam stated with absolute finality. "We've got to find those bodies and find them now. " He sighed and scrubbed his hair. "We'll just have to start looking." He turned to David. Lightning flashed through the windows, lighting up one side of Sam's face. The lights flickered again.

"There has to be an entrance to the morgue at the end of the passage, there's no other way Dean could have gotten in there." Sam decided out loud. He got up and dug around in one of the equipment bags. "You and David go open up the morgue and wait there. He held out a canister of salt. "Pour this in a line around the inside walls of the morgue."

"Salt?" Davis questioned. 'Why?"

"It'll keep anything in the passage from coming through. Just do it. Trust me." Sam replied. "Dean and I will meet you there. See if you can find a pick and shovel somewhere. If we do find anything we're gonna need it."

Sam's manner was so grim and determined, David had no choice but to believe him. He nodded and took Linda's arm, then turned back, "Sam, what I said before. I'm sorry, I had no idea…."

Sam shook his head. "Nobody does, man. It's ok."

David hesitated again and then nodded and they left the room to search for a pick and shovel.

He turned back to the bed where Dean lay. "Dean…"

Dean's was staring into space. "She died of thirst." The rasp of his voice somehow made it sound worse.

Sam paused, frowning.

Dean looked up at him. "The sick bastard bricked 'em up alive, tied together and gagged. Stephen died the first night, she couldn't get loose. She died of thirst, 5 days later, tied to a rotting corpse." His breath shook as he drew this knowledge from a place he didn't know existed.

Sam stared at him, mouth opening in horror, face going white.

Dean covered his eyes. "My God…" Her memories blended with his, and for a moment he lived it. Bound inescapably to a dead man, trapped in a forever of blackness as putrid skin decayed against you, the sensation as your body shriveled and ached for moisture it couldn't get, the feel of tiny legs crawling over you both as insects found their way to the unexpected feast…

Dean gagged and pushed himself off the bed, stumbling into the bathroom to vomit acid, barely able to hold himself up.

Sam rushed after him to grab Dean's shoulders and keep him from falling as he choked.

Dean fell back, groaning. "Let's just do this, I need it to be over, Sam. I can't….." he broke off, coughing.

Sam clutched Dean's arms. Dean's voice was so weary sounding. If Dean couldn't retrace his steps this could take hours and Dean would never last in his present state, he was already so weak. He struggled to stand with Sam's help. His head hung down as he braced one hand on the doorframe, holding his injured hand against his stomach.

"Can you make it?" Sam asked doubtfully.

"Oh, yeah," Dean grunted. "I'm great. It's just unexpected visitors wear me out." He glanced up at Sam and tried a crooked smile. It didn't last long.

"I don't suppose I could talk you into eating some of that sandwich?" Sam ventured. "You need to get some strength back, you can hardly walk, Dean." Sam felt the heat of Dean's skin. He still had a raging fever.

"I feel better than I will if I try to eat that sandwich." Dean replied, swallowing. His voice was a hoarse croak and it plainly hurt to talk. "Besides, I don't see where I have much choice." He replied. He looked disgusted. "God," he groaned, staring at his stocking covered feet.

"What?" Sam said sharply, easing Dean back onto the bed.

"If I try to put my boots on I'm gonna fall flat on my face." He couldn't stop himself from sinking limply back on the bed.

Sam chuckled in spite of his tenseness. He grabbed Dean's boots and knelt to help him get them on.

"Sam," Dean said softly, trying to shove his foot into the boot as Sam held it. Sam looked up.

"Yeah, Dean."

"I'm sorry."

Sam stopped and stared at him. "For what? This isn't your fault." He tugged the boot on all the way and caught the other.

"I should have been able to stop her—"

"Dean…." Sam sat back. "Dean, this isn't your fault. This could have been anyone. You just…you're in the wrong place at the wrong time. We shouldn't have come here, not like this."

"Like what?" Dean's voice, rather than angry was dull and lifeless. "Like if hadn't fucked up so much lately? Dropped my guard? Jesus, I've let so much stupid shit happen that I should've been able to stop---" Dean's eyes closed.

"No, that's not what I mean!" Sam snapped. "Who the hell do you think you are, Superman? Give it a break, Dean. Are you responsible for every shitty thing that happens? Did it ever occur to you that you're as much of a victim here as anyone?" He jerked the boot on and stood up. "If you weren't so far gone already I'd knock the crap out of you. The minute we get this mess straightened up, we're outta here! All you're gonna do until I say otherwise is sleep and eat until you stop talking and acting like an idiot!" Sam went to grab the flashlights and make sure a gun was loaded. "Let's just get this the hell over with. If you need to stop say so, otherwise I don't want to hear any more of this shit from you!" Sam snapped over his shoulder, cocking the shotgun.

Dean lay with his eyes still shut, he didn't think he could make his body move. Sam's words washed over him without sinking in. Every muscle burned with fatigue and he was enveloped in a cocoon of heat he couldn't shake off. His hand felt as though he had picked up a burning ember and couldn't put it down. He just wanted to sleep and never wake up, leave this nightmare behind him…he wanted to hear silence…..

He didn't fight her this time, when he felt her, couldn't have if he'd wanted to. But instead of the sense of being ripped from himself, he felt a gentle strength infuse him, fueled by a desperation that instantly became his. This feeling was wielded with a new delicacy, restrained, but no less urgent for it.

Help me…help us… whispered across his drifting consciousness. Please….

The boost wasn't much, but enough to push him into a sitting position, head still swimming. He brushed fingers across his forehead, eyes reflected inward. He knew then. Time was running out…..

Getting to his feet was more effort than he thought he could manage but the presence that had taken him to his knees, now offered what support it could, small but welcome, making her need his.

Sam grabbed the flashlights and turned to find Dean standing right behind him.

"Shit!" Sam gasped. Dean's eyes were glassy but he looked coherent. "Are you okay?"

"I know where they are." Dean stated. Sweat rolled down his face. "We have to hurry. C'mon."

Sam stared after him as Dean pulled open the closet door and went inside. Sam watched, a little uneasy but fascinated as Dean moved his hands over the back wall. He obviously knew exactly what he was looking for. He pressed in on one of the center boards and it flipped back to reveal a catch. Dean pulled on it and to Sam's amazement the whole wall pivoted inward, leaving a space wide enough for a body that led into a dark tunnel.

Dean laughed, then started coughing, ending up leaning against the other wall.

Sam handed him a flashlight when he had himself under control. "What's the deal, Dean?"

Dean looked at him. "It's ok," he said, wiping his face on his arm. "We're gonna stop this." He smiled crookedly, then made a face, rubbing his nose as he started down the thin hallway, fighting off the urge to sneeze. "Ready?"

Sam nodded, switching on his own light and following. He watched Dean carefully, a little frightened by the Dean's sudden rally but ready to aid him if he needed it.

The passage was hung with cobwebs and had the deadest air Sam had ever encountered. No movement at all. It was lined with unfinished walls, plaster and open studs, like a mineshaft. Itled them to a right and left turn in the walk. Right led to a small door with a tiny sliding panel, left led down a stairway. They remained silent except when Dean would cough.

"What kind of a sick sonuvabitch would have secret passageway to other rooms in the hotel?" Sam wondered aloud.

Dean shrugged. "They were used to get around the building when people were here the good doctor didn't want to see."

Sam didn't question Dean's answer. He had to stoop in places and Dean couldn't stop himself from walking slightly sideways even though he was fairly sure his shoulders wouldn't hit the walls if he walked straight forward.

It got a lot colder and there was a slight sensation of going down hill. The walls were damp and cobwebs drifted from the low ceiling.

Dean stopped after a few minutes and leaned back against the wall, resting his hands on his thighs, head down.

Sam caught Dean's arm. "You need to sit down?"

Dean shook his head. "Just need to stop for a second," he said breathlessly. "Kinda dizzy…"

Dean could feel an odd, rhythmic vibration in the wall as he rested against it. He could almost hear it. He wondered what was causing it but was having trouble keeping his mind focused beyond what he needed to do.

Dean could hear also voices. To far away to make out the words even if he strained to hear them, but there anyway, buried in the whining hum filling his head. He remained standing in the narrow hallway, one hand against the wall. His injured hand, throbbing now, pressed over his ear. The sweetish odor assailed his nostrils and he breathed deeply without meaning to. It didn't seem so bad now. Maybe he was getting used to it……. His eyes closed and his head fell forward.

He jerked back upright as Sam grabbed his arm. "Dean! Sit down, man, before you fall down!"

Sam's cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He kept his grip on Dean and snatched the phone out of his pocket. "Yeah?" he barked. "Sorry, yeah, we found the entrance, we'll be there in a few minutes. Ok, great." Sam snapped the phone closed.

"That was David. He and Linda are waiting for us at the other end. Can you make it?"

Dean's brief energy spike was fading but he nodded and straightened back up. He didn't protest the hand Sam left under his arm. He batted a hand at his ear, shaking his head.

"Can you hear that?" His voice was getting rougher.

Sam listened. He heard only their breathing. "I don't hear anything."

Dean snorted. "You couldn't smell anything either." He pushed away from the wall. He moved unsteadily.

"Christ, Dean, are you gonna make it?" Sam exclaimed again, still gripping Dean's arm.

"I think I kinda have to," Dean replied, shaking Sam off and moving on down the corrider, light bobbing as he used the wall for support.

The walls gradually changed to stone and mortar, unevenly laid. Mortar squeezing out from between the granite and dribbling in long dried clumps on the ground. Every now and again one of them would stumble over one, swearing.

Sam's flashlight finally shone against a dead end of wood. "Is this it?" he asked Dean. He turned when he received no answer. "Dean?"

His flashlight revealed Dean pressed up against the wall to Sam's right, running his hands over the stones, stroking them with his fingertips, eyes closed.

Oh God, he thought. He turned back to the door and yelled. "David! Linda? Can you hear me!"

He was rewarded with a muffled yell from beyond where he stood. He went back to Dean, who was crooning softly to the wall. "Dean!" Sam spoke sharply to try to get Dean's attention. "We need to get through to the morgue! How? Where's the latch on this one?" he gave Dean a hard shake. "Dean!"

Dean blinked, staring blankly at Sam and then seemed to come back to himself. He stumbled over to the door and feeling over it quickly threw the latch and pulled it open. He stepped into the narrow opening beyond and started to push but it was beyond him to exert the necessary pressure.

"I can't move it:" he groaned, stepping back into the corridor.

"Let me," Sam said, "Where do I shove?"

"Here," Dean put Sam's hands in the proper spots. "Hard as you can." Dean sank back against the wall and slid to the ground. Sam started to go to him but Dean waved him off.

"I'm ok, just open the freakin' door…" Not much more than a whisper.

Sam put his back into it and the old hinges finally moved forward. Light flooded in from the next room and he heard Linda gasp.

"Oh, my God!"

Sam was relieved to see a thick line of salt along the floor. David grabbed the side of the locker that was attached to the section of wall Sam was shoving and helped pull it open.

"I just can't believe this." David breathed. He stooped to walk into the opening, fairly well lighted now from the glaring morgue lights, coughing at the fetid air. He spied Dean sitting on the floor, head back, elbows dangling off his knees, eyes closed. He squatted down by Dean.

"I brought some water, you want some?"

Dean's eyes popped open and he nodded. His throat was on fire. David brushed past Linda, lingering in the doorway. Sam was gathering up the tools. David grabbed a sledge hammer and a bottle of water and went back in.

Linda was seated next to Dean in the shadows. David opened the water and handed it to Dean who drained half of it one swallow, coughing.

"Thanks," he gasped.

David walked up the corridor a few feet to where Sam stood, balancing a pick in his hand.

"Where do we dig?" he asked picking up the sledge hammer.

I'm gonna end this here. I want to get it posted. Major league hell breaks loose in the next chapter so thrill and excite me by reviewing. Please, please. Unlike past chapters I felt the need to apologize for, which, I am not doing, please note, I LOVE the next chapter and am dying to post it, it's almost finished so I might get it up by Sunday. Hope you liked this one.

Kissies.