Looks Like Loss

Thanks so much for the reviews. Hopefully, this chapter will give you a few answers.

Chapter Five

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" Sam asked once Dean was settled back in the passenger seat of the car. His brother either had some idea he wasn't letting him in on or the pain was making him mental.

"Not right now," Dean said through clenched teeth.

"Come on, Dean! Why wouldn't you let them keep you?" Sam urged. He pulled out of the hospital parking lot and merged with the traffic.

Dean hissed audibly and Sam could see him fighting not to curl over again protecting his leg. Instead, he angrily laid his head back against the seat, one hand spread out over the top of his thigh, kneading the muscle in a vain attempt to relieve the pain.

"Did you take one of the pills they gave you?"

"Please, Sam. Not now," Dean snapped, his voice tight. "Just get me back to the house!"

Ignoring lights, stop signs and speed limit signs, Sam flew down the road. He knew the car's movement was hurting his brother, but chose to get it over with as quickly as possible. In only a few minutes, he roared up in front of Ravenwood.

Hardly before he had even managed to get the car stopped, Dean had the door open and tumbled out clumsily. Crawling on hands and knees, he crossed the sidewalk and fell face first into the grass. Sam threw the car in park and jumped out, running around and kneeling beside Dean whose shoulders were shaking with emotion.

Sam laid his hand against Dean's back, unsure of whether to try and turn him over or not. Deciding for him, Dean rolled onto his back. He let out a bark of laughter that so surprised Sam he fell back, landing hard on the grass.

Dean laughed until tears streamed down his cheeks. He lay flat on his back, the near hysterical laughter frightening in its intensity.

"Gone," he said, gasping as the laughter began to fade. "All gone."

"What?" Sam asked, sitting forward again to kneel beside his brother.

"Pain... all gone..." Dean said, calming. He brought his hands up to his ribs as if they were now hurting from the overexertion. "The second I got back on the property. Just had to get back here."

"Try that again?"

"It got worse the farther we went," Dean explained, "but it was better when we were going to the hospital. It's closer to the house."

"Are you kidding?" Sam asked, horrified.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Dean asked, still breathing heavily, staring up at the late afternoon sky. He struggled to sit up, only making it part way, and braced his arms behind him on the ground. "Last night... the first ghost... it started in the leg I hurt before and then spread."

"You're saying the ghost did this."

Dean nodded. "I told you the soldier guy sort of reached out for me. He was limping like he was injured. When the doctor mentioned gangrene, I remembered the smell last night."

"He said something about following orders, but he wasn't happy about it. So he… the soldier was ordered to hurt you as a warning…" Sam frowned in thought. "But if the whole idea was to scare us off, then why this… infection, or whatever you want to call it. It won't let you leave."

"Maybe it was just supposed to hurt. This was just a… side effect. I don't know," Dean closed his eyes and let his head fall back tiredly. "Maybe it's because I was already hurt." He took in a long, slow breath and Sam could see the pleasure he took in it. Dean hadn't been able to take in a deep breath all day he'd been hurting so badly.

"Your leg was hurting already though wasn't it?" Sam frowned. "When we went into the woods last night, it was bothering you."

"Some," was all Dean answered.

"And you were going to tell me when?"

"Hmmm…" Dean said thoughtfully, his head still leaning back, soaking in the sunshine. "I think maybe never."

"I can't help if you don't talk to me," Sam said testily.

Dean snorted. "We're men. We don't talk. Except Dr. Phil. That dude can talk 'til the cows come home."

"You're not helping yourself here," Sam observed.

"Good grief," Dean said, his eyes still closed. "You know how this works. I get in too deep, cause you lots of grief and then we fix it. Why change a perfectly good system?"

Sam sighed. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"I'm always serious," Dean replied, a huge Cheshire Cat grin spreading across his face.

Sam glared at him, but since his brother still wasn't looking at him it did little good. "Ok… So your leg was already hurting last night. Any idea why it was worse when we left?"

Dean shrugged. "This place is all that's keeping the soldier 'alive'. Apparently it didn't like me leaving. Just what we needed, huh? Ghost bacteria."

"So what do we do about it?" Sam asked.

Dean finally lifted his head and opened his eyes again to look at him. "I hate to say it... But we need to talk to the Sheriff. And we need to do it before nightfall."

Sam tried not to laugh at the look of distaste on his brother's face. He looked like someone had just asked him to watch the Lawrence Welk show. Maybe an entire Lawrence Welk Christmas Special.

"Evening, Sheriff," Dean said mildly.

He and Sam were sitting on the rear gallery of the mansion. Dean was in a chaise longue where Sam had left him to doze after they'd both taken quick showers. Sam sat beside him in a rocker sipping the iced tea Mrs. Pruett had brought for them.

She had worriedly fussed over Dean, who had borne it manfully, while Sam fought not to laugh. Finally, seeing his exhaustion, she had left him to rest, while promising to go inside and ask the Sheriff to stop by.

"How are you feeling, son?" the older man asked.

"Better," Dean replied gruffly. "Thanks." He grunted as he sat forward and swung his legs over the side so he could face the policeman. He wasn't saying anything, but Sam knew his leg was still bothering him. It was just at a manageable level now that they were back. "Sir, if you'll have a seat, we need to talk."

The man narrowed his eyes, but nodded. He pulled another rocker around so he could face both of them and sat down.

"We need your help," Sam started. "Dean here," he gestured toward his brother, "can't leave the property until we get this resolved."

"Come again?" the officer raised his eyebrows.

"Dean was... attacked... last night in our room."

"The Captain?"

"Who?"

"The old highwayman... carries an ancient looking pistol," he specified.

"No, not him," Sam shook his head. "Though he fired a warning shot at us." He pushed his hair back far enough so the Sheriff could see the injury. "We think it was an injured soldier. He... infected Dean somehow and the injury is tied to this place. What you saw earlier, it'll happen again if we try to leave."

"Why would the soldier do that?" the Sheriff frowned.

"We think it was an accident. He was just supposed to hurt me… scare us off," Dean said.

"But Dean's injury must be similar," Sam said. "Some sort of sympathetic infection."

The sheriff sighed and sat back in his chair, looking suddenly exhausted. "As if this mess needed to get any worse."

"Why don't you fill us in?" Sam urged. "You might be surprised what we know about ghost problems."

The Sheriff sighed again, his gaze traveling from one brother to the other and then back again, deciding whether or not to tell them anything.

"We didn't come here to con these people," Dean added. "We've been doing this a long time."

The officer hesitated for several more seconds, then finally nodded. "This started a couple of months ago when they began construction on a new home on the back edge of the Pruetts land. Geoff let them park some of their equipment in the back. There was a small fire and some of the trees were scorched. Nobody thought anything of it and then the next night a local man who always walks his dog past the area managed to get himself killed and left on the edge of the property."

"Killed how?"

"Gunshot. He was missing his wedding ring. We put it down to a robbery gone bad. Then the coroner took a look. Gunshot wound, but no bullet when there should have been one. Same thing happened two weeks later."

"And?"

"And this land used to be an almost constant problem, though it's been dormant for years. It's part of my duties as Sheriff to keep an eye out for things like this. I've been trying to figure out how to stop it..."

"Why did you call him the Captain?" Sam asked.

"We've gotten rid of most of them, but your injured soldier… he's not the only one in the woods at night. The robber fella… he's apparently acting as their commanding officer. I think the soldiers believe the battle's still going on."

"Why steal the wedding ring?" Sam wondered aloud.

"I don't know. The people killed have all been men, nothing missing but their wedding rings."

"Who's the woman?" Dean asked.

"Woman?"

"There was a woman last night, sitting on a tree stump," Dean assured him.

The Sheriff scowled. "I don't know about her."

"Wonderful," Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "And this all started because some trees caught fire?"

"As far as I can tell."

Dean stood up, stepped off the porch and began pacing back and forth. "Is there anything special about the trees?" The sheriff only shrugged and Dean huffed in frustration. "We'll have to go take a look, Sam."

Sam heard the report of a rifle mere seconds before Dean crumpled to the ground. And another, just seconds before pain seared through his side. He threw himself behind one of the massive pillars lining the rear gallery of the house, listening as more shots broke out windows and chipped plaster. Ignoring the feel of blood beginning to soak through his shirt, he looked to see that the Sheriff was standing behind the next pillar over, his gun drawn.

"Don't you dare!" Sam shouted. "That thing won't do any good against the ghosts and you might hit Dean!"

"Want to take a look at our camp, do you?" Sam heard. He peeked out from behind the pillar. Dean was lying on his back. He groaned and tried to turn onto his side. "Spying for Johnny Reb, are you?" One of the soldiers viciously kicked him in the face. Dean fell back and remained unmoving.

The three Union uniformed soldiers moved farther onto the lawn to surround him. Night had fallen, but the light coming from the house still glinted off the barrel of the one rifle pointed at Dean. The other two were pointed toward the porch and Sam snapped his head back to keep it from being shot off.

"You two just keep yourselves where you are!" one of the soldiers shouted. "Dobbs, grab our would-be spy… We'll see what the Captain wants to do with him."

Sam watched as one of the soldiers grabbed a still unconscious Dean by the scruff of his neck and dragged him back into the trees. The other two soldiers followed him until they too disappeared from view.

The Sheriff turned to Sam and sighed. "Son, I think your brother just became a POW."

Don't go anywhere… Tomorrow is the big showdown.