Proximity

Author's Note: It figures I wait long enough to update, that when I'm finally ready- the site is down! Sorry for the extended delay. Typical excuses of work, being sick, being sick of work, and life in general. I'm hoping the heightened level of Dean angst will make up for it. The story is almost done, isn't that exciting? Huge thanks to all the lovely readers. You're an added bonus to why I keep on writing.

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"SAM!" Dean called again, and Sam could tell he was getting closer. His voice failed him when he tried to call back, and soon he felt as though the wind was knocked, or shoved, out of him as his body collided with one of the stern cave walls. He let out a muffled grunt before he slumped down to the ground, his head throbbing from the remaining imprints of pain left from the tight grip. It was then he realized he was let go, thrown away like trash, and the first thought he had as he regained his senses was the phantom was now after Dean.

He tried to yell out a warning but his inward struggle to shout only elicited a coughing fit. Red eyes glared at him from a distance—a blink—then they disappeared to darkness. Sam squinted in the dark and finally he made out a shade of light, signifying to him an opening to the cave. His eyes held on to the light as he tried to stand but his strength wavered from his knees when he saw a swiftly moving shadow pass beyond the light.

Dean, get away from here…

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With the faint moonlight sketching an outline for the cave, Dean finally saw it and pushed his body even harder to run quicker.

"Sam!" Dean shouted again, and he truly panicked when his call did not warrant a response. Sam's yells and cries had seemingly ceased and the night was unbearably quiet, unnerving him as he could only hear his hasty footsteps stomping into the ground.

He was just outside the cave entrance when an awkwardly large shadow rushed by him, sending him backwards with a fierce momentum. He didn't fall, couldn't fall, and so he only took one glance behind him as he continued for the cave. Dean reached for the open darkness that held his brother captive, and as he did something latched onto his shoulders, pulling him back and hurling him to the ground.

Something loud cracked in his ears as he felt a few or more of his bones snap clumsily around in the aching pit that was his body. He cursed under a painful breath as he lifted himself up on his side and tried to stand again, not so thwarted from the surprise attack as he was from again being torn farther from his brother.

Just as he was about to fully regain a standing position, claw-like hands singed his face with a sharpening pain, and he tried to yell out but couldn't. He fought against the pain, fought the grip, and after the longest four seconds he'd mustered enough strength the break away, sending himself backwards and he stood against a tree. He stared into two, deep red eyes that seemed to be pinning him to the tree now. He was sure if the intimidating creature could smile against the dark shadow of his face, Dean would see him beaming ecstatically now.

Dean struggled to move, glancing from the red eyes towards the cave.

Suddenly, as he saw Sam limping into the moonlight outside the cave, a silent scream across his lips and a look of hurt shining in his eyes, Dean felt a different kind of weakness wash over him; it was a weakness he couldn't describe but seemed to originate somewhere deep in his heart. His brother was hurt, his brother had been damaged, but his brother was safe and alive, and Dean's heart ached with relief. He almost wanted to smile. Sam seemed to want to smile, too, a kind of ironic smile that would say 'Great, you're okay but still in trouble and now it's my turn to save you'. And Dean would accept that for what it was, as long as Sam was smiling.

All thoughts of smiling vanished when Dean saw a new set of red, glaring eyes approaching Sam from the darkness of the cave. He felt his voice leave his mouth in a barely audible cry for Sam to run, but somehow by the shock of it all he couldn't form the right words. The second phantom had Sam, yanking him back into the cave before Dean could even imagine a violent threat to shout at the damn thing.

The other phantom that held him against his will advanced toward him, who thrashed wildly against himself to run again after Sam. He heard Sam yelling out with only what Dean could visualize as the most agonizing pain. Then Dean felt the phantom stab invisible claws into his chest, digging in so deep that for a moment Dean couldn't breathe. It seemed to feel like something was severing his flesh from the inside out, relentlessly pounding pain into him that couldn't find an escape route through tears or screams, but through mind-numbing thoughts that willed him to shut his eyes forever.

But he wouldn't sleep without Sam safe and sound beside him.

And the monster released him and he fell to the ground hands first to hold himself up. The shredding pain he felt being scratched into him was absent, but in its void he felt the beginnings of dull throbs, and he was almost certain whatever just happened would leave some kind of bruising. He panted out heavy breaths reluctantly as the pass of oxygen in his lungs seemed to burn his chest and choke in his throat. As intense as the pain was, he couldn't think of it now, as his thoughts were dominated by those of Sam. If he hurt this much, he hated knowing Sam could experience even half this pain.

He swore he heard something evil laugh in the wind that brushed past him, as the phantom attacker abandoned his position and disappeared into the cave where Sam was.

Get up, damn it…

The pressure in his chest seemed to buckle him down to the ground. He fisted the cold grass in his hands angrily, taking in a sharp breath and mentally willing the pain to stop- at least just long enough for him to save Sam. The power of positive thinking wasn't doing much for him, and he sent a quick, silent jeer of envy out to those who could always remain restlessly optimistic.

There was an explosion of brilliant, white light that forced Dean to shut his eyes. At the same time, he felt an icy wind scrape past him and it made him shudder. After the light vanished, he was left seeing the residual flashes as his vision cleared to normal and adjusted to the darkness. It was then he began to feel the ground tremble and he looked up towards the cave to see it starting to crumble. Bits and pieces of the cave ceiling broke out of place and clunked on the earth. Soon, the cave walls were deteriorating inward.

Dean scrambled to get up but was in no condition to move quick or easy enough to make it in time. He watched in slow horror as he was helpless to stop the cave collapse from happening. Fear crawled over his skin and into his stinging eyes as the entrance of the cave fell apart, blocking him from Sam completely.

"Sam! NO!" The frightened cry left him before he even thought to breathe. By the time he managed, struggling all the way, to reach the entrance, all that was left was a solid mound of rocks and boulders. Although the cave wasn't menacing in size, and he guessed it didn't go on too far, he listened to it break and shatter in the night and it never seemed to stop.

The world was literally falling apart in front of him—His world, Sam, was being ripped away. Sam was there, in the middle of the chaos, right there, so close but entirely too far away.

"Fuck," Dean spat bitterly, turning away from the collapsed sight just briefly to grapple with his sanity. "No, Sam…Not you."

Dean fell to his knees as the last edges of the cave collapsing finished with a clattering echo of rock against earth. Immediately, Dean went for the first rock he saw, then another and another until he was picking up the debris and throwing it away like it was the most revolting thing in the world. He ignored the new bruising and fresh cuts his hands were receiving and kept on digging, clawing towards a way to get Sam out. He couldn't feel his shoulder, the fire poker having done enough damage and caused enough pain to now go numb. Dean hated feeling numb, and fire poker, flesh wound, pounding headache or not…without Sam, that's all Dean felt. Numb.

"Sammy! Come on," Dean wasn't sure if Sam could hear him, but he needed to believe there was a way. "You're not—going to let—a bunch of pebbles—take you down!" he ordered between hefty breaths. He had no concept and no concern for how he was maintaining his strength to dig. It was as if he was now a machine, steel at its finest, working continuously by some power he didn't need to understand, just use.

A drifting thought came to him suddenly, though he didn't pay too much attention to it. Still, he had to wonder where Riley disappeared to. Anytime you want, feel free to do what you tagged along to do and help my brother…

The rocks were getting no where, and the further he dug, the larger the fallen cave became. It was now a giant predator, and Dean didn't know how to kill it. He threw one more rather large, rather heavy rock to the side. It clamored against a tree and a half amusing thought pitched in Dean's head that it'd be just perfect for that tree to snap, collapse on him, and maybe he could physically die since he already felt dead. He shook himself away from the maddening, random thoughts. It was hard to focus on anything, hard to breathe, hard to keep digging.

"Sam! Sam!" Dean bellowed in defeat, slamming his fists against the cave debris. "Not you, Sam…You can't go. I just got you back! I just got you back and you're—you're gone! What the Hell, Sam!"

Hot tears found their way out, one by one, each one dripping to the earth took something with it, something away from Dean.

And Dean kneeled there. And it was not night. Time did not exist. There were no phantom attackers. Riley had never been there. His heart stopped beating. Air quit halfway in his throat. Nausea relapsed back into his stomach. He was not numb. He did not feel. He was just there. It was just him. Just Dean. For three seconds. It was just him.

And after those three seconds, reality finally struck him…hard.

After three seconds of being the epitome of loneliness, he realized why he was alone, what had been taken from him, who he was missing.

After three seconds, it wasn't just Dean. It was Dean without Sam.

And then he felt everything. All the pain, all the fear, all the sadness, all the anger, all the resentment, all of it throbbed behind his eyes.

And then he felt numb, but not numb enough to stop all the negative feelings, all the appalling emotions that were strangling him.

Nausea overtook him once more.

He couldn't stop breathing, even if he absently thought once he could fight the natural instinct to do so.

His heart was beating all too fast, all too painfully.

Riley abandoned him like everyone seemed to do in Dean's life.

But not Sam…Sam always comes back...

"Come back, Sammy…"

Where there should have been fear, there was a simmering hatred when he almost remembered the phantom attackers. At the moment, he couldn't care enough to really think about them, couldn't fear their sudden return. He would have plans for them…just not yet…

Time was an excruciating reminder of all he'd never gotten to say, would never get the chance to say. Time existed much to his dismay, passing quicker by the second but dragging on every minute like a trap waiting to close in on him.

And it was night. And the night was swallowing him up entirely in darkness.

He wanted to call out for help. Who would come? Who would listen? Who could possibly help me now?

Dean stood. He was a Winchester, and as so, would not call for help. He already, subconsciously, decided that he would take matters into his own hands. He fisted his hands, his unwilling grief automatically presenting itself in the form of anger with a monstrous thirst for revenge. If this was the end of Sam, which Dean dreaded to believe, then it'd mean only one thing. Something was going to suffer the consequences.

Right now, with the threat still out there—Dean couldn't process grief. He couldn't accept loss. He couldn't just sit there and dwell. Right now, he had to hunt. He needed to hunt, or the pain of his suffering would drive him irreversibly insane.

Naturally, his hunter instinct, thriving only on a sudden urge to kill something, anything, had kicked in. Dean was aware of the energy behind him, watching him, studying him, waiting for him to react.

And though he didn't know how he'd stop the threat, didn't know what he could ever do with his own bare hands against a shadow…he'd fight. He'd find out. And because he was a Winchester, he only had the mindset that when fighting for his brother, he would have to win. He'd fight. He'd win. It was simple.

Because vengeance is a bitch. Dean took in a long, shuddering breath. His body shook as anger pulsed wildly in him.

Slowly, Dean turned around to face the monster.

And he met a set of glowing eyes, but they were not red. They were blue.

Once he held eye contact a moment, the glowing faded and from the darkness there was a whitish hue that transformed into the familiar apparition of Riley. Piercing blue eyes stared at Dean, and they were sad eyes that longed to release the sadness held within. He stepped forward to Dean, as Dean shrunk back with exhausted confusion and anger and misery.

Riley opened his mouth to speak, but Dean heard him without listening as Riley spoke silently to his thoughts.

I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry.

Dean didn't want to hear why, didn't want to think it was because he failed and Sam really was gone. He needed something bad, something evil, something that wasn't sorry so he could kill it. He needed to kill it, for maybe killing it would make all the pain go away.

"Don't say sorry. Don't say he's—" Dean choked out a sob he was holding in. "Dead. Don't tell me that. Don't say it…"

"Dean, it's over now," Riley said plainly, apologetically.

Damn his apology! It won't bring Sam back.

Dean, for reasons beyond his comprehension, grabbed a heavy enough rock to make a decent impact on something and threw it at Riley. The rock went through him, as he wasn't really there, and Dean knew it would but still wanted to try and damage something the way he felt damaged now. He tossed his hands in the air when the rock made a loud thud on the ground, and he was defeated.

"You said you'd help! You said you'd fucking help me! Why don't you help me then! Bring. Sam. Back." Dean spoke lowly, threateningly. Riley remained silent, a small smile gently crossed his features and Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Thank you, Dean. Thank you for saving Kathy. Thank you for letting me go home," Riley said suddenly, as he began to disappear. His bright blue eyes looked past Dean, somewhere distant that Dean couldn't reach. And Dean watched as the sadness in his eyes was released. His smile was genuine. And then he completely vanished into a light sent only for him. Once he was gone, so was the light, and then the darkness seemed heavier than before.

Dean stood, utterly dumbfounded at the spectacle. He was lost entirely on all levels of the word. As he braced himself to cut through the silence enveloping him and yell out odd obscenities to a dead man, a softer voice cut in first.

"Dean…"

It came from behind him. Dean closed his eyes. Partly to see if this was some nightmare he was beginning to wake up from. Partly to stop a new line of tears from breaking out. He turned again, afraid with the fear of disappointment, and he didn't want to open his eyes. Still, curiosity won out, as it was one of the few feelings he could feel that made sense to him, and he opened his eyes.

There, in a clearing lit by the moonlight, stood Sam.

Moments, that seemed like ages, before, Dean understand what it meant for the sky to fall and the world—his world, to cave in around him. He learned what true suffocation felt like.

And as he observed his brother, well and alive, standing there with a goofy grin on his face…Dean learned what it meant to be revived, to take in that first breath of air after being withheld from it. He breathed in, long and hard, before preparing for another run towards Sam. Only this time, he wouldn't be chasing him, but meeting him halfway.

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To be Continued…

Aren't you happy I didn't end a few paragraphs earlier, which would have caused you to believe Sam died? See—I am capable of being nice…hehehe. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. There will be one more part, coming soon since it's half way done, which will explain everything from Riley to the phantom attacks, and of course include the much needed Sam/Dean reflection of what hell they've been through. A little more angst, and never enough brotherly love, coming soon. Thanks for reading.

Silver Kitten