Title: Moonstar

Ch. 15: Rising Storm

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: I swear I have been trying to post! The misbegottensite wouldn't let me .Warning, I'm sorry, I didn't do this on purpose. The thing ended up so long I had to break it into two chapters. But…….because I promised, I'm posting TWO today I decided to post the first part now so you'd have something to read and the next one will be up later today so watch for it. Swear to God. This is a buildup to it. Don't hate me. (Ducks flying debris)

Linda sat next to Dean as David and Sam bashed away at the wall. Every blow made Dean flinch and he was becoming more and more agitated as he watched. Sweat rolled off his face and soaked his t-shirt once again. Chill air was pulled through the open ends of the corridor, raising gooseflesh on his damp skin.

"Sweetie, you need to calm down." Linda advised concernedly, watching as Dean began to hit the back of his head lightly against the wall with every strike of the pick. He glanced at her but said nothing.

David and Sam paused, tiny flecks of blood on their faces from flying bits of stone. Sam wiped sweat from his forehead. He hefted the pick again and slammed it into the wall, ducking away from the darting chips of rock. David responded with a strike from the sledge hammer and this time the wall finally dented in.

"We got it!" Sam cried, hitting it again. Stone fell into the opening and he used the pick to pull part of the wall away. Once it was breached, the wall crumbled outward with relative ease. Sam knelt and pulled out debris that had fallen in and tossed it on the floor behind him. He flashed his light into the hole and sat back, looking grim,.

David straightened up slowly, a growing look of horror on his face, and backed slightly away, one hand crept over his mouth. "Christ Almighty…" He murmured.

Linda rose and helped Dean struggle to his feet, crossing over to the opening in the wall.

She cried out and turned away. "Oh, my God."

Dean pulled free of her grasp and joined Sam on his knees. Sam reached out a hand to steady Dean as he took the flash and leaned into the opening.

Crushed into the space between the walls, barely 24 inches deep, lay two withered bodies, so entwined with each other it was difficult to determine where one ended and the other began. Their skulls were pressed together, their arms were around each other, even their legs were tangled. The two bodies were as close as they could be. It would have looked tender and intimate save for the gags tied around their jaws and the strand after strand of what looked like some kind of tape that wound around them and bound their hands at each others backs. Crammed together in the narrow space, movement wouldn't have been possible.

"Help me get him out," Dean requested in a soft voice. "Please…"

Sam reached in and between themselves and a reluctant David, they managed to pull the two bodies out as carefully as they could, and lay them on the ground.

Once out, determining which was which was simple. The figure that had been on top wore male clothing, long since decayed into a few ragged pieces. The figure on the bottom, female clothing, long, dark hair still fell from the dried skin of the scalp.

Margaret and Stephen, love pledged in life and bound together in death, had been found at last.

Linda had begun to cry softly behind them. David put an arm around her. "It's gonna be okay now," he whispered to her, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

"What do we do now?" he asked Sam.

Sam was watching Dean and didn't answer. Dean's face had softened and a tear rolled down his cheek as he gently caressed the parchment skin of Stephen's face.

"He was so weak," Dean whispered. "He tried so hard not to die…and afterwards, I wanted to die so badly." His breath caught. He looked over at Sam, eyes brimming. "I'm sorry, "

Sam swallowed, unable to move. "For what?" Sam said, knowing he was going to regret it.

Dean's eyes closed, his head moving slowly from side to side. Sam could barely make out the next words as Dean lowered his head.. "He won't let us go…." His body began to fall forward.

Sam's eyes widened as staccato rappings suddenly filled the corridor. A hot wind, like a blast from hell, tore through the tunnel, flattening their clothes against their skin and forcing them to protect their eyes from the stinging dirt and bits of debris blown up from the ground in it's passing.

Linda screamed and she and David, arms protecting their heads, staggered back through the tunnel into the morgue. Sam threw himself toward Dean as he huddled over the two bodies, arms over his face. The noise and wind ceased as abruptly as it had come and after a moment Sam raised himself up, looking around. He glanced down at Dean who lay still beneath him, slumped over the couple's dried remains.

"Crap!" Sam snarled. He pulled Dean off the skeletons and back into his lap, shaking him and slapping his face lightly. He seemed forever to be trying to bring Dean back to consciousness. He grabbed the water bottle Dean had been drinking from and splashed some in Dean's face.

After a few heart stopping seconds, Dean, coughed and his eyes fluttered and opened. Sam hugged Dean to him, shaking with relief. He even managed to laugh when Dean's voice protested weakly.

"Dude…c'mon. What did I say about personal space…."

"What the hell was that all about? Was it because we found the bodies? Are they gone? Their spirits I mean?" David asked Sam as they sat in the kitchen, a short while later.

The bodies had been moved with some difficulty to the morgue and been covered with blankets. Sam had wanted to dispose of them then and there but Linda had objected. One, starting a fire in the hotel and two, it just didn't seem right. Sam had tried to persuade her but she would have none of it right then.

Dean sat next to Sam with his head pillowed on his arms and a blanket around his shoulders. Sam couldn't tell if he was asleep or not. Linda move restlessly around the room, peering out the window from time to time where rain now pounded the glass. Thunder rolled more gently as the storm moved slowly on.

Sam made a face. He yawned helplessly for a moment. It couldn't be later than 7 or 8 but he felt like he'd been up all night. "I don't know," he finally said. "We need to burn those bodies and salt them. That's the only way to know for sure."

"Is that legal?" Linda asked suddenly. "I mean, aren't you supposed to call the police if you find a body?" Her voice trembled slightly. It wouldn't take much to send her into hysterics at this point.

Sam glanced at David. "We can't call the police, not if you want this to end." He slid his cup back and forth. "They'd take the bodies for forensics work and identification. Obviously, Margaret, at least, couldn't move on as long as her body was bricked behind that wall. I'm not sure just finding it is enough to let her go."

"It just doesn't seem right. They must have family." She sank into a chair at the table.

Sam glanced at Dean as he stirred. "We can take care of it in the morning, but I really don't want to wait any longer than that. Everything seems ok ,now, but…" he reached over and pulled the blanket back up on Dean's shoulders.

Dean drew a deep breath and pushed himself up, dislodging the blanket again. His face was still flushed. He rubbed a hand over his mouth , then rested his head in his palms. "Man," he growled, clearing his throat roughly. "I need a drink."

Linda got up. "I'll get you some water-"

Dean shook his head. "No. I mean a drink. A real drink."

Sam frowned at him. "Like hell."

Dean tilted his head to the side and looked at Sam out of the corners of his eyes, brows drawn together. "Did that sound like I was asking permission?"

Sam blinked at the tone, content and coldness of his words.

"I can make decisions for myself, Sam. I don't need you to tell what I can and can't have." Dean moved his eyes back to David. "So, you got any alcohol around here?"

The room was awkwardly silent as David stared first at Sam's hurt, puzzled expression and then at Dean's angry eyes.

"There's…uh, there's some whiskey…I think," he offered uneasily. It's under the counter, up front." He made a small pointing gesture. "I can get it."

"No." Sam said. "You don't need to drink in your condition."

Dean grimaced and massaged his fingers into his forehead. "My condition? That brings up something else. Hand over the damned aspirin." This time Sam looked shocked. "I think I can also decide how much painkiller I need and when. I'm sick of havin' to beg for them."

Sam face flushed angrily and he stood up, pulling the bottle from his pocket and tossing it on the table. "I tried to give them to you before and you wouldn't take them!" he snapped. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

"Nothing." Dean shooksix aspirin out of the bottle, inexplicably enjoying seeing Sam's mouth tighten. He tossed three in his mouth, swallowing. "In case you haven't noticed," he pushed himself upright, swaying slightly. "I've had kind of a crappy day! Never mind," he said to David. He threw the last three aspirin to the back of his throat and washed them down with Sam's coffee, choking slightly.

He walked to the door, the blanket slipping off onto the floor. Sam grabbed it up, wadding it in his fists. Dean paused at the door for a moment, hand against the frame and then moved across the lobby to the stairs,

Sam turned back toward David and Linda. "I'm sorry. Dean gets in these moods when he's been pushed too far." He bit his lip and looked back at the stairs. Dean had to stop every few steps and brace himself on the wall before he could go on.

"It's ok, Sam. If anyone deserves a fit of temper he certainly does." Linda assured him. "Go help him. We can work all this out tomorrow. I'm sure everything is gonna be all right."

"Yeah, Sam. We already owe you big time." David smiled at him and went to stand by Linda.

"Thanks." Sam finally said. "I hope you're right." He trotted across the lobby and caught Dean halfway up the stairs, grabbing his arm. "What the hell, Dean?"

Dean tried to jerk away but Sam held tight. "Leave me alone, Sam. I wanta lie down."

Sam pulled him on up the stairs, "Then let me help you and stop being an ass. What was that all about back there?" he kicked open their door and aided Dean back to the bed. His clothes were filthy and sweat soaked but he had no others and Sam hadn't had a chance to wash any clothes.

"What?" Dean asked, sounding confused. He lay still as Sam pulled his boots off and lifted his legs onto he bed.

"Dean, I know how you get sometimes but, believe me, now is not the time for a trip to nowheresville." Sam dropped Dean's boot's and sat on the bed.

Dean's eyes were cloudy looking. Sam sighed, reaching to feel Dean's face. Still hot. As annoyed as he was about the triple dose of aspirin, maybe they'd help.

"Dean reached up and covered his eyes. "Man," he groaned. "I feel awful…I'm so tired." His hand dropped back to the bed. He brushed Sam's leg with his fingers. "I didn't mean whatever I said, Sammy….I don't know what I'm saying anymore. My brain feels like someone put it through a blender."

Sam closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temples. He was incredibly weary himself. After tomorrow this would be over and he and Dean could get the hell away from here.

"It's ok, Dean. I know. Try to get some sleep." He stood with an effort. "Hopefully we'll be out of here tomorrow." He went to the door, pulled it to, flipped off the lights and stumbled over to his own bed and dropped down on it. He was asleep within minutes.

Dean lay in the darkness with his eyes closed. He drifted more into unconsciousness than sleep, barely registering the softsounds that came from the head of his bed. A regular rythym.

Tap, tap. Tap, tap.

Remember to toss pennies. (Although I would prefer reviews.) I can always hold the promised chapter hostage.