Chapter 7


Dean circled the block for the fifth time, slowly trying to rub away the burning in his throat. Apparently, Father Andrew was more concerned with the community's personal issues than their parking options. Although, in Dean's mind that was an important personal problem, because after all, a car is an extension of the man driving it. He doubted the Father saw it that way, as he reluctantly maneuvered the Impala into the gravel lot, trying his best to ignore the clouds of white smoke spun upwards by the tires that would more than likely adhere to his baby's midnight exterior.

Struggling to clear his throat, Dean brought the car to a slow stop, selecting a space, if you could call it that, quite a distance away. He barely managed to put the car in park before the tingling in the back of his throat resurfaced coupled quickly by a bout of hacking coughs.

His body doubled over in the seat as the attack persisted and intensified, the jarring motion burning it's way from lungs to throat. He worked furiously to take in some air and breath between the sharp exhales, his eyes blurring and watering under the effort of the simple task. The attack ended as abruptly as it had started leaving a shaking Dean slumped over across the driver's seat. He shifted slightly to lay out on his back, his eyes studying the Impala's roof as he attempted to steady his deep, raspy breathes.

Silently, Dean thanked everything holy that he had dropped Sam off at the hotel, and his little brother hadn't been there to witness the addition of a new symptom to the ever- growing list entitled "Proof that I am sick." For starters, he was trying his best to keep his façade of getting better in tact. And secondly, he knew the reason he was in his current statewasdue to the fact that he hadn't listened to Sam in the first place and had pushed himself too hard too fast. Not that he would ever give his little brother the satisfaction of knowing that.

So far, Dean was impressed that he'd been able to hide the other stuff on the list from the resident mother hen, even managing to successfully dodge a confrontation with his annoying little brother. The paleness was easy. He could simply attribute that to being exhausted, and that could be tied to the last job they had done which wore him out and he was now just sleeping it off. Thus creating a semi-successful excuse for the five hour cat naps he was currently taking.

Sure he was moving a little slower than normal, but if Sam commented on it, he would remind him that he did have a cabin fall in on him less than a two weeks ago, and the issue would be dropped. His concern was the fact that his skin had taken a clammy feel and he was sweating more than normal, but adding a few more layers of clothing covered the stains and Sam knew better than to touch him without prior consent.

Dean could hear his voice take on a gravelly tone during the entire interview with Kasey's parents, but Sam had been oblivious, all his attention on the dead boy's mother. The elder couldn't even begin to express how happy he was that Sam had taken an extreme interest in the case. So much so, that Dean swore he could hear Sam muttering facts in his sleep. It was a welcome diversion, there was only so much "henning" Dean could take before initiating evasive action. But regardless of how engrossed his little brother was, there was no question in Dean's mind that Sam would probably notice if he was curled up and working on coughing up a lung. And that meant he was screwed.

His breathing settling, Dean wiped the dampness from his lips and grabbed the top of the seat using the bench as leverage to pull himself back up. He adjusted the rearview mirror so he could view his countenance and couldn't help the small gasp that flew from his lips. If it was possible he looked worse than he felt. He rubbed his hands roughly over his face, hoping to instill some color into his cheeks and wipe the look of sleep from his eyes.

Satisfied with the small change in his pallor, Dean stepped out of the car and whipped out his wallet, grateful to find a crumpled ten resting between the leather folds. If he bought the good stuff, he figured he would be able to keep his cough under wraps for at least a couple more days and hopefully stifle or avoid any chance of fever.

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A shiver ran down his spine when he stepped through the entry arch. Churches always managed to freak him out, especially ones that had hidden crypts and a priest that could cause Sam to get all weird, well, weirder than usual.

He eyed the basin of Holy Water in the corner and for a brief fleeting second considered crossing himself with it, before fully entering the church because then maybe God would see he was at the very least trying. Dean quickly shrugged off the idea, remembering all too clearly how good water conducted electricity. And he was pretty sure lightening held an electric current, if that was the method God chose to smite him. Dean made a mental note to ask college boy about that one.

Dean walked cautiously down the long aisle, not liking in the least the way his footsteps echoed throughout the open cathedral. He reviewed the layout of the building in his head before turning left down a long corridor and followed his memorized map until he was back in the same spot Sam had lead him to the night before. Right in front of that freaky ass tapestry, his little brother had been so fond of, just the sight of it made Dean shudder involuntarily. He knew what lay behind that piece of cloth and while he hadn't ventured to far in, Sam had. And the look on his brother's face was enough to deter any notion of wandering back in unless absolutely necessary.

"Beautiful, isn't it? Amazing what someone can do with the talent's the Lord has given them." Dean jerked when the clear voice rang out behind him, realizing for the first time he'd been zoned out staring at the hanging.

"I don't think that is god-inspired." Dean retorted, turning to face the source of the voice and smiling visibly when he saw he wouldn't have to search for the Father.

"You're Dean, correct? The reporter?" Father Andrew waited for Dean's nod in affirmation before continuing, "Now, tell me, Dean. Do you mock all of God's handiwork or just the parts you don't understand?"

"No, just that one." Dean quipped smugly, nodding back to the tapestry.

"I see." Father Andrew replied thoughtfully, "I take it you aren't a man of the faith."

"No, I'm not. But I didn't come here to discuss my spiritual situation, Father, I came here to finish my interview." Dean spoke a bit sharply. He really didn't feel like another "maybe it's time to have faith" speech. He'd had enough of that to last a lifetime back in Nebraska.

"Humor me." The Father murmured, walking past Dean down the corridor, stopping mere inches from the hanging artifact. "Do you know what this symbol means?"

"No. But I bet you're going to tell me." Dean smirked, at least he didn't have to come out and ask.

"Do you always joke about such things?" Father Andrew slowly shifted his eyes to Dean, his gaze hard, "I can't imagine that's a good quality for a reporter to have, because if my memory serves, you are supposed to remain unbiased. I believe that implies the fact that you listen without comment or remark and simply take in the information given to you."

"That's right, sir. Sorry. You were saying." Dean mumbled, his pale cheeks turning red at the priest's reprimand.

"This" Father Andrew brought his long thin fingers to the dark symbol tracing it ceremoniously, his voice reverent, "is St. Anthony's cross. It is a sign of devotion to God used by Friar Anthony when he established the first Christian monastery in 4th Century Egypt. It was later worn by St. Francis and his friars as a sign of the incarnation of Christ."

"Huh." Dean breathed, slightly pissed that all he'd gotten from the Father's speech was a history lesson.

"You see, Dean. Things aren't always what they appear. At first glance you see only a symbol, but even the simplest things hold meaning." Father Andrew's tone was placating, and Dean didn't like it one bit.

"You got that from one of those desk calendars didn't you?" Dean countered, extremely pleased when a frown clouded the Father's pleasant features. His moment of victory was cut short when his body was racked with coughs once more.

"Is everything alright?" the Father questioned taking a step closer to the hunched quaking form before him.

"Yes." Dean rasped, regaining control. "So, these guys who disappeared all attended this church, right?"

"That is correct."

"So what do you think about the connection of the church to the disappearances?" Dean cleared his throat, and tried his best to sound professional silently wishing Sam was standing along side to help him out.

"I believe anything is possible. However, I doubt anyone here would want to hurt those young men. They were so full of life, gifted by the Lord and used their talents for him the best way they knew how. They were what Father Michael would refer to as "the cream of the crop." It's a pity, they had so many good years left to live. I'm sure the Lord has a purpose in all this. We just can't see it at the moment."

"Right." Dean offered tightly, snapping his notebook closed and extending his hand to the Father "Thank you for your help. I'll be back if I have anymore questions."

"Whatever I can do." Father Andrew conceded, shaking Dean's hand. Dean nodded, and turned to walk away, the priest's voice stopping him once again, "How is your colleague, by the way?"

"Sam?" Dean asked dubiously, "He's fine. Why?"

"He wasn't with you today." The Father replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh, well, he prefers research to interviewing." Dean replied quickly, his eyebrows raised questionably.

"Ah. Well, then. Have a good evening, Dean and the same to Sam." Dean continued staring at the priest, until the man retreated back into his office and then began trudging back to his car, shaking his head at Father's question.

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Dean jerked the hotel door open and threw himself towards the bed, landing roughly on the hard mattress. He reached out and pulled a pillow towards him, settling it under his head, not even offering slight recognition to his tense brother huddled over the computer screen.

"Hello Sam. How was your afternoon." Sam muttered, conversing with himself, causing Dean to lift his head and give his brother a quizzical glance as Sam answered himself. "It was fine aside from my pounding headache, but thank you for asking."

"And you said I needed help." Dean laughed, pushing himself upright and sitting down on the edge of the bed, doing his best to give his brother his attention. "Did you find anything?"

"Actually, I did." Sam replied, shifting in his seat, a sure sign his inner nerd was thrilled with whatever he had found. "So, St. Anthony's Cross is actually a version of a Tau cross."

"Okay, so…what?"

"So, the Tau cross is based off the Ankh Cross." Dean knew Sam was trying to clarify his point, but either the cold meds he'd taken on the way over or his brother's logic wasn't allowing him to grasp the concept and his face showed it. "It's a symbol of immortality, Dean."

"Oh. Father Andrew didn't mention that." Dean muttered, dropping back down onto the bed.

"Really, what did he say?" Sam asked nervously, he was sure his research was valid, but still.

"Something about the reincarnation of Christ." Dean mumbled, his eyes drifting shut.

"Could it be both? I mean…" Sam's voice trailed off, as he reverted back into his thoughts. He pulled on a few strands of his hair in frustration. Time was running out, the searing pain in his chest was testament to that.

"Maybe. But you still got to explain why it's showing up." Dean's voice was muffled by the pillow and Sam sighed heavily at his brother's prone form. Whatever discussion he'd wanted to have would just have to wait until morning.

Sam lifted himself out of the chair, stretching out his back and legs before walking over to pull off his brother's boots and effectively tuck him in. The younger quickly changed into comfortable sleeping clothes, shut out the lights, and crawled into bed.

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The dry scratch fought its way back up his aching throat. The effects of the medicine were wearing off, and he could feel the tingling sensation of another cough rising. Without hesitation, Dean ripped the covers off of him, and ran to the bathroom door. He needed water and someplace where Sam couldn't hear the attack he could feel coming.

He was surprised to find the door closed, not to mention locked. Throwing a quick look over at Sam's bed, he cursed upon viewing it was empty. He was completely screwed now.

"Sam?" He croaked "I need the bathroom, man. C'mon."

Dean's clamped his lips shut, his leg bouncing in anxiousness as he waited for his brother's exit. There was no way in hell, he was letting Sam on now. He had worked too hard to keep his brother off his back and that's how it was going to stay. Dean cleared his throat repeatedly, the lack of response from Sam beginning to send him into panic.

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean banged on the door a couple of more time, the exertion of the movement forcing him to succumb to the onslaught of the rough coughs. Taking a ragged breath, Dean called out once again, and receiving no answer, stepped back and kicked the door, instantly regretting the action. Adrenaline proved his ally, and he fought through the throbbing of every muscle in his body as he repeated the action again and again until the door flung open.

Dean grabbed his knees and heaved for breath long and hard, before bringing his head up to scour the bathroom for whatever was delaying his brother. All the work he'd done to regain a regular breathing pattern was shot to hell as his breath hitched in his throat, and his heart plummeted in his chest.

Sam's writhing form buckled on the tile floor. His bare chest fire red and raw. The smell of burning flesh and sulfur invaded Dean's senses as a series of white slashes appeared in the smoldering skin above his little brother's heart. The intersecting lines forming a pattern that to Dean's horror was all too familiar.

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Okay so thanks to carocali and HT, and naturally for helping me brainstorm...god knows i needed it. A little long, but i figured you guys deserved it for waiting so long...and uh...lemme know what you think