A/N: Again...apologies for the delay. And y'all can thank KC for kicking my ass and helping merelocate mydirection and focus.


Chapter 17


Sam felt the coarse binds grinding into his skin with every attempted move he made to evade his current predicament. Those bastards may be decrepit, but they sure as hell knew how to tie a man down, and now he was not only helpless but also useless if the time came to act. All he could do was wait in strained silence for the return of the men Father Andrew commissioned to retrieve his brother.

"Father Andrew?" Sam rolled his head towards the direction of the meek voice and watched as the hunched figure slowly approached.

"What is it, my son?" The priest's voice had returned to the very same soothing, comforting one it had held the day Sam and Dean had first entered the cathedral, and its resonance sent shivers through the younger's body.

A hesitant pause followed the question before the man's response was heard. "The congregation is here, sir."

"Are they?" Father Andrew murmured rhetorically.

Sam's eyes widened considerably as the priest's dilemma became apparent and mocked it. "Don't you just hate those second services?"

The cocky grin he'd seen all too many a time grace the face of his brother became his own for a brief moment, only to be forced off his features when a smack across his jaw sent his head careening to the right, smashing into the stone table. The priest's rotting face filled his blurry vision. "It would do you well to remain silent."

The dark-haired boy nodded shakily, and startled when an approaching thud and muffled voices echoed in the chamber. Sam willed his eyes to focus, but wished they hadn't when he'd seen the source.

Two followers dragged his brother's body along the crypt floor, their gnarly boned fingers digging into the stark red flesh of Dean's wrist. The raw skin bled with new intensity under the constant scratching pressure and the scarlet drops dripped unceremoniously to the ground beneath. What scared, damn frightened, Sam was the hero brother he'd always known wasn't fighting. Dean was completely still.

"What the hell did you do to him?" Sam demanded furiously, raising his head and chest as far as he could off the altar and staring down Father Andrew's solid white eyes.

An evil smirk tugged at the priest's lips as he approached Dean's lax form instructing his followers to drop him. They obeyed forcefully pushing the older Winchester down to the floor, and Sam yelled out against it when the resounding crack of skull on stone could be heard. "The better question, Samuel, is what am I going to do to him. And more importantly…you."

"Do what you want to me! Leave him alone!" Sam demanded desperately, tears burning in his eyes at the thought of Dean dying on his account. That was not a guilt trip he would ever embark on even if it meant dying first. And Sam, in the deepest resources of his mind, always knew, accepted, he would.

"I will do what I please, Samuel." Father Andrew replied firmly and then summoned his followers and fellow priests to him. "We must adjourn and return to our flock for now. My congregation has gathered and yours will soon. Return the instant you have finished. We haven't much time."

Reverently, the hooded men bowed their heads and moved to obey. Each one passed by Sam and silently laid a hand over the symbol etched into his chest. Pain flared each time, and Sam gulped down his surprise and agony as each follower removed their hood and looked for lack of a better term—normal. Like men. The deteriorating skin and slackened jaws reshaping and hinging back to its former and rightful place. Eyes, glassed and vacantly white, developing irises of brilliant color.

"Remain here." Father Andrew ordered to one of the last remaining cloaked figures, "Watch them. Leave the other unbound, but don't underestimate his weakness."

"Yes, sir." The servant replied and waited until all members had parted and the grating of the door closing was heard before removing his cloak. Sam literally gasped at his appearance.

It was neither rotted, nor covered with lesions, but almost beautiful. The man's pale skin radiated in the dim firelight and long strands of blonde hair brushed his cheeks. Eyes of crystal blue were welcomed in place of the stark white that had held every other man's gaze. Sam didn't see malice or purpose in the man's stare, but pity as a sad smile crossed the follower's face as piercing eyes took in Sam's state as if seeing the boy for the first time.

"What the—?" Sam started, only for the man to raise a hand to silence him and then turn toward Dean's body, "Don't touch him! What the hell are you doing?"

"Helping him breathe." The man replied tersely, hooking his arms under Dean's own to lift the slack body to rest in a sit against the wall. "Unless you'd rather him choke on congestion. He's wheezing pretty bad."

Sam's face gave away his confusion and the man continued. "He has a cold or the flu, right?"

"Like you care." Sam spat, beginning to wage war with the ropes again. He could tend to his own brother, thank you very much, and didn't need some psychotic doing it for him.

"Actually, I do. I was hoping this would happen." The priest replied. His eyes locked on Sam's before moving towards the bound man and he immediately set his fingers to work on the knots.

Sam gaped, stunned, and fought against the man's actions in unhindered fear. "W-what?"

"Stop. I'm trying to help you." And as if to prove his statement, Sam felt his right leg slump free over the edge of the altar. "But you have to help me."

"Fine. Whatever. Get me off this thing," Sam urged, not even considering the stakes as his thoughts currently lay with his brother.

The man had issued him a stern look, but heeded his request and progressed faster. When the last of his bonds were broken, Sam jumped off the altar, stumbling on unsure legs, towards Dean.

"Hey, Dean…Dean?" Sam ran his fingers along his brother's hairline searching for the jagged cut he expected to find after the priest's had dropped him, but nothing but a swelling lump occupied Dean's forehead. "Can you wake up for me?"

Dean's shallow wheezing was deafening and Sam turned troubled, hateful eyes to his rescuer. "What did they do to him?"

"They didn't do anything, they found him like that." The reply was clipped, but still held a fraction of gentleness. Sam's frown deepened and he was beginning to wonder if that tone was a requirement for priesthood in Atchison along with the whole 'we kill for immortality' bit.

"He wasn't this bad when I left him." Sam argued, feeling his brother for any broken bones or added injuries he hadn't known about, the sagging loll of his brother's head doing nothing to reassure him.

His helper sighed audibly and then firmly replied. "Yes, he was."

Sam ignored the response and continued brushing Dean's sweaty hair, swallowing nervously at the fire burning the ashen skin and uttering a liturgy of request for him simply to wake up. "He needs a hospital."

"Not my problem." The follower snapped, and Sam cringed at the heat behind the words. "So, you have two options. You can leave him here, or you can carry him with you, but either way, you are going to help me."

Sam nodded his compliance but forcefully replied. "I'm not leaving him."

"Fine." The man agreed quickly, but didn't move to help Sam when the younger brother worked to rest Dean against him, draping his older brother's arm around his neck and placing an arm around Dean's torso to steady him. "If he slows us down--"

"He won't." Sam refuted and quickened his step as the man led them out into the maze of corridors.

Dean was heavy, and the added weight was steadily becoming a burden as their escape continued. The carved hallways were long and narrow, and sweat soaked every inch of Sam's shaking body as he dragged his brother along with him, Dean's haggard short breaths flooding in his ear pushing him onward against the flaring burn of his tired and worn muscles.

Suspicion rose in Sam once the blonde man turned down another dark corridor and he demanded an explanation. But got nothing in response.

The dark-haired Winchester wondered if this deal he made would result in everything he'd tried to avoid thus far. Pain. Betrayal. Death. All of it seemed more tangible now that escape and freedom were in sight. He'd trusted a complete stranger—a follower no less. Sam figured it probably was a good thing Dean was out of it, otherwise he'd never hear the end of his stupidity.

Just as Sam was about to call a quit to the whole charade himself, the man came to a stop. "Here."

"It's a wall. You lead me to a friggen' stone wall!" Sam screamed angrily, and the man smacked a hand over the boy's mouth.

"Shut up and listen." The man hissed and waited for Sam to oblige before removing his hand and turning back to the wall. He shoved against the wall and Sam's eyes blinked against the small streams of light peering through. "This leads out behind the cathedral, to the parking lot. You're car is there, yes? The black one?"

Sam's face scrunched in slight shock at the extent of their guide's knowledge. "You're brother drives like a maniac."

"Oh." Sam laughed and proceeded to move forward, but was stopped again.

"Pay close attention." Sam nodded and tried to give his best 'I'm completely focused' face. It must've worked because the man finished his instructions for Sam's repayment. "There is a book hidden beneath the driver's seat, Father Charles placed it there earlier. A page is marked bearing an incantation and the ritual accompanying it. Go to the Marder's Clearing and perform it there. Tonight."

"What does it do?" Sam whispered, fear creeping into his heart at what the proposition may hold and he cursed silently for not demanding an answer before.

"It removes the vessel's powers and places them in another. The name is written for you." Sam stared at the follower for a moment, gasping as revelation claimed him. He'd agreed to help this man only to make him Father Andrew's successor.

"No." Sam denied, shaking his head, "This has to end."

"You will do this!" The man commanded, his eyes wild with rage. "It has to be you!"

"Why?" Sam pressed meeting the blonde's hard gaze.

"Because you are chosen!" the man snapped as if that explained it all, "It has to be a pure soul only the chosen are known to truly have."

"I'm not a pure soul. It won't work." Sam countered with a scoff, his mind racing back to every horrible thing he'd ever committed and then Jess.

"The mark says differently." The follower replied and then opened the stone door fully, beckoning for Sam to embrace the freedom presented.

"How do you know I'll do it?" Sam asked curiously with the hint of a threat as he edged himself and Dean over the threshold and onto the small patch of gravel lot.

"We take the chosen to the clearing after the sacrifice. It will be where Father Andrew will try to draw you once he finds you are missing. That is why you must complete the ritual soon, before he latches hold. Either way, we'll find you and depending on the circumstances--kill you." The man finished smugly, a smirk clouding his lips, "Besides, are you really willing to let Dean suffer for your disobedience?"

Sam shifted Dean's unconscious body protectively closer to him and watched the man close the wall back up before trudging painstakingly slow to the shining Impala. The priest were nothing but thorough and Sam found the Impala keys in the driver's door. Hurriedly, Sam unlocked the back door and laid Dean out along the backseat, frowning still at the lack of movement and clammy skin.

The instant the engine gunned, Sam leaned forward and pulled the leather bound book from its hiding place and threw it in the passenger seat. Guilt clenched Sam's heart as he drove towards the closest hospital he could find. Realization of what he had agreed, and what he would do gnawed at his core.

It was trade. His life and Dean's for what could be countless others--all innocent. He'd bargained freedom and a hospital trip for that--and that alone. It was blood on their hands and wrong—so wrong. The only comforting thought Sam could muster revolved around the fact that it was a good thing his brother was still unconscious and unable to adamantly refuse.

The only thing was he had never wanted to hear Dean's advice more.

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Okay not my best...hopefully not my worst. haha. But thoughts are always welcome as well as concrit. Thanx for reading and lemme know what you think...