A/N: So sorry about the LONG overdue update! School and theatre got in the way and the past couple of weeks have been so busy and insanely tiring. Here's the next update though, I hope everyone is still reading! Enjoy!
Chapter 7
Drifting somewhere in between. A dream? Shocked, cold, afraid. His heart beat against his ribs. He drew breath, choked on water, turned hurriedly to the side and spat it out. He coughed into the speechless night and opened his eyes wearily, not sure what to expect.
Pained blossomed in his head and he bit off a groan as it rippled up his throat. He looked around, his eyes unfocused and uncertain about what could've been hiding deep within the shadows. He knew what lurked in the night, but he didn't know what he'd find lurking in this night.
Confusion bombarded his weary mind. What had happened? Where was he? What time was it? Where was Sam…Sam! Where was Sam? He thought back to what he recalled. It was foggy and in bits and pieces so small that they could be passed through the eye of a needle. He drew in a shuddering breath and struggled to find motivation deep within to move.
Any minute now, he'd move. He just needed to find the will within his tired mind to do so. He timidly placed his hands on the ground for leverage and began to get up. His muscles went weak and he crashed back down in a painful heap. Faint tears of discomfort stung in his eyes, but he shrugged it off. He had to move. He had to find Sam; he wasn't going to be able to do that lying on the ground.
'What happened?' Dean asked himself as he lay prone and panting on the cold Earth, working through the nausea that had flared in his stomach and the constant ache that nagged in his head.
'Where…The Whooper!' Dean thought victoriously.
'The bastard tried to drown me!' Dean mused angrily.
'How'd I get out? Oh wait…' The memories flashed through his mind like a movie screen. He'd gotten out on his own. He remembered.
He'd hit his head. His vision had blacked out, but the cold water had shocked him back to consciousness where he had clawed his way out of the spring and onto the bank. The Whooper had been gone, but was it really gone? He'd pulled himself out of the water and then…and then…nothing. The slate was blank and no matter how hard he struggled to grasp for the fabric of what had happened next, he couldn't.
'Must've passed out.' He thought wryly.
A soft wind rippled through the air and pranced happily over his face. He drew a deep breath and slowly pushed himself up. The night lurched around him, but he worked through it and was soon standing on his own feet, even if he felt a bit shaky. The wind whistled distantly through the trees and Dean simply listened, unmoving, uncertain, he just listened.
Faint voices could be heard in the forest, familiar voices belonging to those that he knew. Amidst the wind, he could clearly identify Ron's voice, calling to him.
"Dean?" Ron yelled.
Dean's head throbbed painfully, but he pushed the feeling back and took a deep breath to respond.
"Dean?" The call came again.
"Over here." The eldest Winchester answered.
Footsteps rushed toward his voice, the wind not muffling the sound. Dean locked his eyes on the direction the running was coming from. Through the shadows and the dark, he saw Ron's tall, lanky figure hurrying to greet him.
"Dean! Are you alright?" Ron questioned.
"Yeah, I'm fine…I think." Dean muttered.
"You don't look fine to me. I can see that even with the lack of light. C'mon, Sam's worried about you."
"Sam? Is he okay?" Dean questioned timidly.
"He's fine, Dean, just worried, he's looking around Dead Boy's spring." Ron gently grabbed Dean's arm and led him down the path that twisted into the night-shrouded forest.
Dean surprised himself by staying upright without much difficulty as he was being pulled along through the dark. After what seemed like forever, he saw a shadowy figure moving slowly amongst the trees and he recognized the shadow as belonging to Sam when the silver light of night danced across the pale face.
"Dean!" Sam's words were full of relief and excitement, but also echoed of concern and confusion.
Sam pushed his way through the night and came to stand in front of Dean and Ron. The young man's face had shadows of concern dancing darkly around his eyes and mouth. Lines of worry were etched in his forehead, yet a soft smile rested quietly on his lips. No words were spoken, but the message clearly passed between the brothers when Dean nodded.
"Where's the Whooper?" Dean questioned cautiously. He trusted his little brother had done the deed and burned the bastard, but he wanted to be sure.
"Burned." Sam confirmed and Dean relaxed, but his relaxation caused him to sway back and into Ron, who caught him gently and kept him upright.
Sam's face clouded over again and dark toned eyes passed critically over the older brother as he impatiently righted himself and released Ron's hands from his shoulders.
"Dean, are…" Sam began, but Dean held up a hand.
"Don't say it, Sammy. I'm fine, just a little worn out. The Whooper showed me things that I never want to see again." Dean answered.
"What do you mean?"
"You know when it grabbed me and pulled me under?"
Sam nodded anxiously; he remembered it all to well.
"I think he pulled me in between worlds." Dean replied.
"Between worlds? You mean the dead and the living? Is that possible?" Sam asked.
"Apparently. Anyway, as I was saying, he pulled me between and showed me his death." Dean was whispering in Sam's ear so that Ron couldn't hear what was being exchanged.
"How'd you get out?"
"My charming, good looks?" Dean joked, breaking into a smile.
Sam landed a light punch on his brother's shoulder. "Yeah right. Don't be so full of yourself. Really, how'd you get out?" Sam asked, his voice was teasing and a smile had broken through his worried exterior.
"I don't know. "
"What do you remember?"
"Watching the men bury the cook. Then I knelt in front of the grave and a hand broke through."
"So, the grave is a rift between two worlds?"
"So it would seem, but I don't understand why nobody else has experienced the disruption."
"Maybe it's your extreme good looks?" Sam teased.
"Shut up." Dean said in mock hurt.
Sam shrugged. "It was a compliment."
Dean cast a long glance Sam's way and shook his head. "I don't know why nobody else experienced the rift that I did, but it exists. Well, it did exist, until you set fire to it."
"Dean, you're bleeding." Ron said suddenly as moonlight crossed the back of the eldest Winchester's head.
Dean winced, he'd hoped that fact would go unnoticed, but he couldn't be that lucky.
"What? Let me see." Sam said and Ron pointed to the back of Dean's head. The youngest brother moved around behind to examine the injury.
"Why didn't you say something?" Sam questioned.
"It never came up."
"Sorry, but it looks bad." Ron insisted.
"I'm fine."
Sam began to run his hands over the wound to feel for abnormalities, but Dean batted is hands away impatiently.
"Sammy, I'm fine! I just want to get out of here and find a nice hotel with a nice bed somewhere where I can get a good night's sleep."
"Nice is hard to come by. We should get back to Tyler and Gray and get this cleaned up." Sam said simply.
Dean sighed, and rolled his eyes, but allowed Sam to take his arm and lead him through the path leading to the circle Dean had created as a safe haven. A haven that would no longer be needed as protection from the supernatural element that had once lurked in Whooper woods.
A/N: Not done yet! Stay tuned and I'll try to get the next chapter up quicker!
