Chess Move: In chess, if your opponent's queen has been captured, he can recover it by moving one of his pawns across the board to your back row. Upon arrival there, his pawn is exchanged for his queen (the most powerful piece on the board) and she assumes her full abilities to move freely on the board again in pursuit of your king.

Chapter 18

The Impala raced, its driver resolute, both, determined in their pursuits, one, to transport its beloved passengers unharmed and in time, the other to save a brother's life. Disregarding the final traffic lights and signs that stood in the way of the boys' future and destiny, both boldly crossed the entryway and skidded into the parking lot of an old stone church whose image would have been lost in the darkness were it not for the moon's generosity to make its presence known.

The church had been a one room sanctuary that had doubled as a school house many decades earlier. Its solid oak doors, now chained, could offer no welcome or assistance to any who were seeking it. Its bell tower, now empty, was in disrepair leaving one to wonder whether it had finally given up its hope of ever being purposeful again. Its steeple, perfectly intact, pointed upwards as if the church were still trying to complete its mission: to direct those needy individuals who might be passing by to where they should look for help and to whom.

Beside the forgotten church lay a cemetery, littered with tombstones and unmarked graves, sadly overgrown making its surface difficult to negotiate. Encircling the graveyard, a wrought iron fence with pointed end caps hemmed in its deceased loved ones, lost ones, and those whose lives were unknown and unmourned and, within that same black iron fence, laid a dead, calculating chessman.

Having come to a screeching halt in the parking lot over by the cemetery, Sam and Dean bolted out of the car and circled around to the trunk. Dean eyed Sam carefully and was pleased to see that his nose had finally clotted and that he was more focused. He would need to be if they were to survive the night.

Sam grabbed the shotguns then reached for the shovel.

"I got that. You take these" Dean handed Sam a whole box of salt rounds.

Sam unloaded the box, shoving as many rounds as he could into both of his jacket pockets.

Dean couldn't help but notice his little brother was expecting a war as Sam added a few extra rounds to both jean pockets as well. He paused and looked at his nervous brother.

Sam, fully aware of his brother's stare, felt embarrassed and turned to glare him down.

"What?"

"Nothing" Dean responded, eyebrows raised, shaking is head. He continued gawking.

"Stop staring at me. I'm fine."

"Yeah, okay, whatever, dude" Dean conceded and got back to business.

Sam handed Dean the gas can.

"You gotta match?" the younger sibling questioned.

"A couple" Dean answered grinning and showing his brother an entire handful.

Both boys were on edge and they both knew it, but they were staying focused. The brief seconds of humor made the moment bearable.

"Salt?"

"Got it" Dean answered back seemingly overloaded.

Dean wanted Sam's hands to be free, free to shoot and free to defend himself if need be.

Both boys grabbed their flashlights, double clicked them in unison to be sure they were working, and closed the trunk.

Having loaded up with gear, Dean turned to Sam and their eyes locked. They knew what they were facing, they knew what they had to do, and they knew they would do it together…knowing both of them would live or die tonight. There was no middle ground. Either they walked out together or they didn't walk out at all.

Sam gave an understanding nod. Dean mirrored. Then, flashlights in hand, they headed off.

The gate, though latched, had not been chained and Dean easily flipped it open and swung the door to the right. It creaked on its hinges, its steely sound cut through the silence of the night. Dean stepped back and crossed protectively in front of Sam. Both boys paused, fearful that they may have revealed themselves, and waited. There was no sign of the evil huntsman and for that they were grateful.

The scheming chess master, calculating each move, allowed his opponent to think that the board offered no threats, that every piece was visible, and none were threatening the king. Like a pawn, hiding safely behind the illusion that it was moving slowly, innocently across the board, he would wait for the Winchester brothers to naively make their moves. When the king was unsuspecting , the pawn would make his move for queen-ship, trap and capture his opponent's queen, checkmate the king and claim the match. Being a spirit had its advantages, if he couldn't take the prey in life, he would take the prey in death, and oh, the things he could do to the King in death. Intoxicated by the possibilities, the vengeful huntsman returned to his most treasured hunt.

Dean flashed his light quickly out in front of them to see where they should start and then shone it in Sam's face to check him out one last time.

Sam flinched as the bright light seared into his eyes.

"I'm good!" He barked knowing Dean's intentions were good even if his actions were annoying.

"Maybe….. but not as good as I am" Dean teased trying to act as if this was just another hunt.

Sam cocked his head and gave Dean "that look".

"Let's do this!" Dean added and the boys took off searching for Denton's grave site.

The graveyard was eerily quiet and extremely dark, something both boys expected and had experienced before, however this time, their hunt was more personal and that added extra tension. The tomb stones, many dating back to the 17th century, appeared to be in disrepair. The grass was overgrown as if the cemetery had been long since forgotten. There was a gust of wind that brought a chill to the air. Dean couldn't help but wonder if it brought something else along with it.

The boys were in hunt mode. Quiet, stealth like, focused, coordinated in movement and in thought. Each knew that they could afford no mistakes. Each determined to complete the task and not die trying. Each particularly focused on protecting the other. Sam knew what Denton was capable of and he would be damned if he would allow the twisted huntsman to lay a hand on his older brother. Dean knew what Sam had been through and would not allow his little brother to suffer another injustice from this detestable excuse for a ….ghost.

Dean stepped over a broken piece of gravestone as they made their way across the yard. He reached out and grabbed Sam by the sleeve pulling him to the left so he wouldn't trip on its jagged edge.

Sam acknowledged the help with a grateful nod.

Dean's flashlight was the first to find an area of interest. He motioned to Sam and the boys moved in that direction. They came up upon an area of new gravesites. There was one empty hole with dirt piled high along its sides and next to it, a recently covered grave. It was unmarked, but being the only new grave around, Sam and Dean knew who lay beneath it.

"Watch yourself" Dean cautioned softly, tugging on Sam's jacket again when he had unknowingly recoiled from the site towards the empty hole behind him.

Sam was distracted. Dean noticed Sam's nervousness and redirected him to a nearby tree with a gesture of his hand. He didn't want his brother to have to see Denton once Dean unearthed him and he didn't want him to be too close to the grave in case…things didn't go as planned.

Sam nodded, mouthed, "Be careful", raised his loaded shotgun, and took up his position beneath the old oak tree Dean had directed him to, ten yards out. He reached up and snapped off a dead branch that was hanging down in his way. He wanted to be sure he had full view of his brother so he could protect him from……..Sam paused as he pictured the sick hunter's face and then whispered out loud, "Do your job", and refocused.…… protect Dean from Denton, should he need to.

Dean, seeing that his brother was at a safe distance with shot gun in hand and poised for action, threw down his gear and arranged it purposely. He wanted his shotgun within reach should he need it, the gas and salt he placed further back.

He began shoveling as fast as he could; his heart was racing, his mind along with it. Denton was clever, a master at calculating moves, cruel and demented and he could only guess at what the chessman's next move would be. Dean almost wished the bastard would show himself so they could repel him and know the window of time they had to work within. It was the waiting and unknowing that was killing him. The soil moved easily having been freshly placed on top of the grave. What should normally take an hour, would take a lot less time. Dean was hopeful it would all be over soon.

So far, things were going smoothly, but Dean knew to keep up his guard. Sam did too. The boys made eye contact often as Dean dug, both checking to be sure the other was alright. Sam's pendulum swung back and forth between hunter and victim, but was spending more time towards the hunter side. Dean's pendulum swung between warrior and brother, with a mix of both, but he was managing them effectively. Unknowingly, they chanted the same phrase over and over in perfect unison in their minds. 'Keep your focus, Sam. Do your job.' Sam chanted to steady himself. Dean chanted yearning for his unspoken words to shore his little brother up.

Dean's ribs were starting to seriously complain when he finally reached the coffin. Muddy, tired, and growing anxious, he glanced over at Sam.

Sam shifted nervously but held his weapon in check. "Keep your focus, Sam…Do your job" he barely whispered over and over a bit faster than before…soon it was more like…. "focus…job…focus…job."

Dean reached down and opened the coffin...

Denton's body lay dead in the opened box. Its appearance sickened Dean, not because the demented huntsman was dead, but because he wasn't dead enough. It nauseated Dean to see the remains of the one who had so horribly and maliciously abused his little brother.

Not wanting to waste another minute, Dean crawled out of the grave, began covering the sickening body with salt and slowly poured the gasoline on top. He glanced up at Sam who looked expectantly in his direction. Dean smiled at his little brother and reached for his match.

It was then, when it seemed like the chess match was over, that it truly began...as Denton's pawn showed itself to be an exchanged queen.

"DEAN!"

Dean heard Sam's voice but it was too late. As if hit by a freight train barreling recklessly out of control, Dean was flattened to the ground and propelled several meters away where his body slammed cruelly against an unforgiving cement monument.

"DEAN!" Sam hollered as he bolted from his position hidden beneath the tree.

Sam aimed his shotgun in Dean's direction, ready to shoot Denton when he materialized. Desperate to keep the evil huntsman from laying another hand on his brother, he ran towards his fallen sibling, his heart raced uncontrollably in his chest.

Suddenly, to his horror, he saw his brother being heaved up and launched only to be slammed down into the unused grave beside Denton's.

"DEAN!"

Sam watched in horror as the dirt pile beside the grave began dumping in on top, burying his brother alive.

"NO! DEAN!"

He ran desperately towards the entrenching dirt and fell to his knees. Dean was flailing, hopelessly trying to keep his head above the increasing depth of the soil.

"SAM!" Dean coughed as the intake of air and dust to call his brother's name choked him.

"GET" ...cough…

gasp..."THE HELL"

gasp..."OUT of h……." The rest of his words were buried under the dirt along with Dean.

"DEAN! OH GOD, no, NO!"

Sam attempted to take aim but had nothing to shoot at. He had to do something to free his suffocating sibling before it was too late. Being careful not to hit his brother, he fired blindly into the earth desperately trying to stop what was happening.

BOOM!

The shotgun blast, having no effect at all, made only one choice available to Sam. He readied himself to jump in, to save his entombed brother.

Having captured his opponent's queen, the calculating chessman's spirit made its move ...for the king.

Sam was suddenly seized by what felt like hands and wrenched backwards…...into Denton's grave. His shotgun, still gripped tightly in his hands, fired accidentally as he descended helplessly into the hole.

The impact of his landing was mind and body shattering. He felt his ribs give way beneath him and his lungs began to scream for air. The pain was excruciating and he cried out in agony. Floundering, he struggled frantically to right himself. The gasoline soaked into his jacket and jeans, the salt stung his newly made cuts. He frantically rummaged around in the dark for the shotgun which he had lost contact with just after firing, but to no avail. Being desperate to get out, he began clawing with his bare hands and gasoline soaked legs to get a foothold in the mud walls that surrounded him. He was abruptly and mercilessly yanked downward again, landing on his broken arm. The cast cracked…the bone along with it. A gruesome voice encircled him and laughed hideously, its volume so loud Sam had to cover his ears. Paralyzing fear sliced across his bruised and battered body. The smell of gasoline was overwhelming and stung his eyes. The horror of his brother suffocating in the grave beside him and the sheer terror of falling once again into this madman's grasp besieged him. The hunter in him was defeated; the victim in him took over and lost control.

"DEAN" Sam called as his world became a fog of confusion, panic, and horror. He felt his body being grasped and yanked down yet again and he collapsed on top of Denton's decaying corpse. Sam reeled and threw up. He tried to rise up but his defeated body was unresponsive. Unwillingly, he felt his body begin to shut down.

Denton's spirit reveled in his cornered prey. Intoxicated by the abomination's surrender, he reached in to remove the king from the game and call it a match.

Unbeknownst to the arrogant, malevolent chessman's spirit, an unwatched pawn had quietly and steadily made its way across the board to its opponent's back row and taken its rightful place as queen.

"SAM!" Dean screamed from the top of the hole.

Having been written off by Denton, he had been left to resurrect himself.

"GET BACK!" he hollered poised in positon with his shot gun in hand.

Sam couldn't budge, overwhelmed with the recapture of his body by Denton, he felt powerless to do anything.

"KEEP FOCUSED, SAM, DO YOUR JOB! Dean hollered desperately trying to spur his brother into action.

Sam began reiterating the words in his head and finding his hunter's strength within, he rolled off Denton to the left.

BOOM!

The shotgun blast permeated the air leaving a lingering fog behind it. A piece of splintered wood pierced Sam's neck and he yelled in pain. Suddenly, he felt his body being released and he sank down.

"SAM!" Dean yelled as he reached his hand down toward his brother.

"GRAB HOLD"

Sam's mind was swirling in a mess of pain, confusion, and exhaustion. He lifted his head to look for his brother.

"SAM! NOW!"

Though Sam's mind had little understanding, his body knew his brother's voice and rose robotically disentangling itself from its captor who lay impotent beside it. Sam's mind eventually seemed to catch up and he called out to his brother for help.

"Dean" Sam called weakly.

"GIVE ME YOUR HAND!" Dean hollered panicked for his brother.

Sam got up too quickly, staggered and stumbled back down on top of Denton's cadaver.

His stomach heaved and he begged his brother for help.

"Dean, please, get me out of here!"

Dean's heart was over taken by his little brother's plea and he immediately dropped into the hole beside him, grabbed his younger sibling by his jacket and lifted him to his feet.

Sam wobbled in his brother's grasp.

Recognizing Sam was unable to do anything more, Dean shoved his brother's trembling body upwards helping him to clear the lip of the grave. The additional stress of Sam's weight on Dean's cracked and bruised ribs caused shooting pains to radiate outwards. His head was throbbing from the pain of the impact with the cement monument. But knowing he was Sam's only means of escape, he pushed past the pain. Sam moaned as his broken ribs teetered on the edge and he was unable to pull himself forward the rest of the way out. Dean quickly scrambled out. Clearing the top, he threw himself down to the ground in front of the dazed young man and grasping his brother's hands, hurriedly tried to pull him to safety.

"Ah!..." Sam gasped when Dean grabbed his re-broken arm and accidentally raked his broken chest across the edge of the grave.

Dean cringed at the sound of his brother's cries.

He gave a final tug on Sam's good arm and he was up. Dean dropped beside his brother and attempted to help him stand up. Sam pulled away. Seizing, he threw up. Dean tried to brace his brother against the convulsions as they came, knowing how painful they would be with his broken ribs. Sam shook when he was finished and rolled over onto his back. Dean felt powerless to help him.

Knowing it was only a matter of time until Denton returned, Dean grabbed his shot gun and tapped his brother's shoulder with his hand.

"C'mon, Sammy, he'll be back. We gotta finish it."

Sam struggled to roll back over and attempted to push himself up off the ground. Dean did what he could to help. The boys painfully righted themselves and readied to finish the job. Dean ripped Sam's jacket off and had him step back fearful that when he lit the grave, Sam would ignite right along with it.

Without wasting another minute, Dean struck the match.

"Checkmate again, you stupid bastard!" Dean declared coldly flicking the lit match into the grave.

Flames instantly engulfed the open pit; relief engulfed Sam and Dean as they stood there and watched.

"You know, Sam...I actually prefer checkers now ...so….

"KING ME, YOU AAROGANT SON OF A BITCH!" he hollered into the blackness of the night.

Sam's lips formed a slight smile as he swayed slightly to his left. Dean reached over and steadied him. For a moment, the boys stood there, basking in the glow of the demise of the cruel chess master. Seconds later, Sam's legs collapsed beneath him.

Dean grabbed hold of his brother just before he struck the ground. He shifted him sideways, and put his left arm under his neck, his right hand on Sam's chest trying to feel for its rise and fall.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" Dean begged trying to look him over in the darkness of the graveyard. He couldn't see much, but he could tell Sam's eyes were closed.

Sam didn't answer but lay unmoving in his brother's arms.

"C'mon, little brother, talk to me." Dean beckoned.

He pressed his fingers to Sam's neck…..blood.

"Shit!"

Not knowing what his brother's condition was, but fearing the worst, Dean grabbed hold of Sam's body and quickly dragged him back to the car. He laid him down in the front seat by pulling him through from the other side. The light from the car ceiling shone on Sam's unmoving body. And Dean was devastated with what he saw.

Sam was covered in mud and blood was coming from his neck. His cast was clearly broken, and his arm probably with it. Sam was taking short breaths in gasps and a painful reality struck him again. If he didn't get his brother help soon, he might not make it.

Dean pushed the bloodied cloth from Sam's broken nose onto his neck and pressed down.

"Don't do this, Sam. Don't you do this to me...not again." Dean commanded with tears in his eyes. "Denton's finished, Sammy; he can't hurt you anymore. Don't you let him win."

Dean knew he needed to get his brother to the hospital. He patted his little brother's chest and gently raised his head and shoulders, slid behind the wheel and resettled them on his leg. He keyed the ignition, revved the engine, and took off.

The worried sibling looked down and gently placed his hand on Sam's forehead. He tried to turn his head to see if his brother was still breathing. He couldn't tell in the darkness but the gasps he had heard earlier had ceased. His eyes began to tear up as he floored the accelerator.

"C'mon, Sammy, breathe!" Dean beckoned, resting his hand on his brother's chest, desperately feeling for its rise and fall,

Sam's chest rose and fell evenly under Dean's touch.

"That's it, little brother. Hold on, man, We're almost there."

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Authors Note: This was originally going to be two chapters with a big cliffy in the middle...but I just couldn't do it to ya! You guys have been so great and encouraging...let this be my way of saying thanks! Hoped you liked it! Oh, and don't worrry, (smile) there's still more to come. :) Rachelly