What Lies Beneath Chapter 4, a supernatural fanfic

Title: What Lies Beneath
Author: Michealangela
Rating: T (for some cursing)
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own these guys. (

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks a lot to everyone who keeps reviewing. I really do love you all!! Well anyways…here you go! Enjoy!

WHAT LIES BENEATH

--CHAPTER FOUR—

Sam cringed as the weight of the world began crushing down on his strained body. His arms felt as though they were being ruthlessly ripped from their sockets. His fingers were steadily loosening from their life-sustaining grip on the dock, causing his body to inch ever so near to the water. Sam's heart was torn, a twisted matter of brokenness inside his chest. He didn't want to let go. He couldn't let go. Dean needed him. Without Sam, Dean had nobody to watch his back, nobody to care for him when he got injured, and nobody to stop him from starting his temper-driven fights. Sam was all that Dean had left in this world. He was Dean's everything. Sam let the tears pour down his face as a thought occurred to him: He couldn't remember the last thing he said to Dean. Damn it. He tried to rack his brains, knowing in his heart that it wasn't what he would have wanted to be his last dying words to his brother. Sam closed his eyes, trying to channel all energy into holding onto the dock, knowing that if he let go, a certain death awaited beneath the surface of the glassy water to greet him. God his life was fucked.

Sam felt his hold on the dock painstakingly diminish. His fingertips were all that was left as they clung desperately to the edge, the only thing keeping him alive now. Sam's mind called out mercilessly for Dean, as if silently hoping Dean would hear this cry and swoop down for the rescue. Dean was always there to save Sam, to catch him should he fall. And though Sam would never admit it to him, Dean was Sam's hero. Always has been and forever will be. That is, depending if he could make it through the next five minutes. Sam opened his eyes and lifted his head one last time. A crestfallen look overcame his facial features as Sam realized that despite his efforts, Dean was nowhere to be seen. He was going to die. Alone. Sam let out a heartrending sob as he felt his fingertips leave the dock. 'I'm sorry, Dean' was the solitary thought that crossed his mind as his body entered the icy lagoon. 'I'm sorry.'

A wave of shock crashed over Sam's fatigued body as he became fully submerged. Tiny needles pierced his skin as his body became temporarily frozen in alarm. He gasped, only to receive a mouth full of muddy water that quickly filled his lungs. Sam's mind was paralyzed, incapable of processing or reacting to what was occurring to his body. His only train of perceivable thought still remained fixed on his brother, Dean. He would never see Dean again. Ever. Without warning, Sam's instincts took over. Luckily for Sam, years and years of his father's constant hunting exercises had his instincts primed for fighter mode. It was the Winchester way of life. If he was going to die in this goddamn lake, he was at least going down with both guns blazing.

Sam began to kick forcefully in an effort to release Micheal's firm hold on his ankles. Although Micheal was supposedly dead, the hands that were wrapped around Sam's legs were undeniably real. Not to mention those same rotting hands were dragging him farther and farther beneath the surface of Lake Champlain. Sam remained focused intensely on freeing himself. But, after several kicks, Sam belatedly realized that his attempts were failing. A dull ache began to seep throughout his lungs, stemming from the bottom and forcing its way toward the center. Time was running out. He needed some air and he needed it NOW. Sam gave up on the whole kicking thing, determined to try a new escape tactic. He began thrashing and thriving every which way, pulling the water with his arms in an effort to breech the surface of the lake and refill his starving lungs with some much needed oxygen. Slowly, Sam's vision began to blur, black swirls oozing into his sight. He continued to struggle, knowing that if he didn't break free within the next couple of minutes, he would slip into unconsciousness, a state in which he would without a doubt die.

"HOLD ON, SAMMY!" screamed Dean in desperation. "JUST HOLD ON! I'M COMING!"

Unfortunately, the thundering cry was registered a moment too late. Dean watched in horror as Sam's grasp on the dock diminished. He watched as his brother, the one person in the world he was supposed to protect, the one person in the world who he actually gave a damn and then some about, sunk into the water, as if preparing for imminent death. 'NO!' was the only thought running through his head. 'No, no, no, no, no!' Dean's heart was pounding as he raced furiously to get to the dock. Sammy's head slipped beneath the surface of the murky water, unable to resist Micheal's firm pull into the darkness.

"SAMMY!! SAM!! NO!" Dean willed his legs to move all the more faster. Why had he picked the fucking cabin that had been so god damn far away? Why had he left Sam alone, perched on the dock, completely defenseless? Why had he been so stupid?! Dean could feel his muscles groan under the strain of his efforts, but he blocked it out. He blocked everything out. He knew that every breath he took was a breath Sam couldn't. He was mere seconds away from reaching the dock, but those few seconds could make all the difference in the fate of his brother's life. Dean's heart was hammering in his ears, sheer adrenaline propelling him forward. Sammy couldn't die. Not like this. Not when he was so close. Tears of frustration welled in his eyes as he finally reached the dock. He ripped off his jacket and dove headfirst into the icy abyss.

Dean didn't even notice the temperature of the water as he became engulfed by its currents. He had only one thought on his mind: Sam. Dean's mind went into overdrive. 'C'mon…c'mon…c'mon! Damnit!' His eyes were open, wide with alert, taking in as much of his surroundings as possible. (Which, considering how damn muddy this craphole of a lake was, wasn't very much at all.) After one costly minute had snaked by and there was no sign of his brother, Dean decided to resurface for more air. He only spared a few seconds to allow his lungs to take in the precious oxygen before his was back underwater, this time diving deeper.

Dean continued to pull through the water, determined on not giving up. Panic was slowly oozing its way into his apprehensive mind. Even if he did find Sam, would he be too late? NO, Damn it! He was gonna find Sam even if he had to drain this whole friggen lake. The guilt Dean felt still weighed heavily on his mind. This would have never happened if he hadn't been so self-absorbed in his own problems to pay attention to the hunt at hand. Sam was his responsibility. He was supposed to have Sam's back at all times--ALWAYS. Bang up job on that one. Dean pushed this thought out of mind as he continued swimming deeper, focusing only on finding Sam.

Suddenly, his heart seized as he noticed what looked to be a body. There, a few feet away, was Sam. Dean remained paralyzed for a moment, his heart not believing what his eyes were seeing. Sam was there; underwater, kicking forcefully at what looked to be Micheal's spirit. Apparently Sam wanted to get away from Micheal as much as Dean wanted to get Sam to the surface. Dean quickly began to swim towards his brother, watching as Sam continued to fight the spirit's grip, to fight death. Pride welled in Dean's chest. Sam was definitely a Winchester through and through.

As soon as he was within arm's length, Dean reached out and placed hands beneath Sam's armpits. He felt Sam's muscles tense as he began to pull, but brushed it off as a defense mechanism for fighting Micheal. Oh it was a fighting mechanism alright. Rather abruptly, Dean felt something hard strike him upside the head, something that felt an awful lot like Sam's arm. Dean let go of Sam with the sudden realization that Sam assumed he was another one of Micheal's delusions to lull him into death's grasp. Dean swam around his thrashing brother until he was finally in front of Sam's face where he would be clearly visible. He cautiously reached his arms out, placing his hands on Sammy's face. He preferred not to receive another wallop on the head, or anywhere else for that matter. Although they were underwater, Sam still had a pretty mean right hook that Dean would rather avoid. Dean waited as Sam flinched under his benign hands. Sam's eyes searched frantically for their owner, eyes eventually locking with Deans. Dean could read the thought that went through his brother's mind as he felt him relax ever so slightly: Thank God.

Dean's lungs began to ache, starving for oxygen. He needed to get them both to the surface and soon. Having no time to waste, Dean repositioned his arms under Sam's so they were chest to chest and began kicking vigorously. Much to his relief, they began to ascend towards the surface. Evidently Micheal had decided Sam wasn't worth it, releasing Sam's ankle in the process. That was fine by Dean. The sooner Sam got the hell out of this water, the better. He watched as the surface began to draw nearer and nearer. It felt as though time was at a standstill as Dean continued kicking. Halfway through their ascension, he felt Sammy's body slacken as he lost consciousness. Sam's dead weight only added to the already malevolent mixture of problems on Dean's list. This was definitely not his day. His lungs are on fire now, screaming out in agony. His muscles are aching, protesting their every move. Dean remained strong, pushing past all this, focusing his energy and concern on Sam. They were so close. Dean couldn't give up now.

After a few more seconds of kicking, the brothers finally breeched the surface of the lake, submersing themselves in a sea of oxygen. Dean took several large gasps, feeding his appetite for air. Sam's head merely lolled back onto Dean's shoulder. Dean remained stationary in the water for only a few seconds longer before deciding to haul ass back to the shore. Although he didn't know why Micheal had let go of Sam, he certainly wasn't going to risk a repeat performance. Besides, he needed to check out his unconscious little brother.

The swim back to shore was nothing compared to the effort it took to get to the surface. Despite the jello-like sensation that had enveloped his legs, Dean found strength as he had his arms wrapped around his brother. Sam was safe, back where he should be and Dean was gonna be damn sure he stayed that way. At least until they left Wyoming, anyways.

Dean pulled Sam onto the shore, laying him flat on his back. Dean's body willed for him to collapse onto the ground there, right next to Sam, and just drift into sleep. Dean's mind, however, was still in protective mode and wouldn't allow any such behavior until he was sure that Sam was okay. Dean fell to his knees beside Sam and crouched over him, turning his head so his face was directly over Sam's nose and mouth. His fingers groped around Sam's neck, eventually finding the tell-all spot.

Dean's heart stopped. Although a pulse was beating weakly beneath his trembling fingers, Sam wasn't breathing. No small gasps, coughs, sputters, no nothing. Dean felt the panic begin to work its way back into his system, fear taking hold of his heart rather firmly. He quickly situated himself and tilted Sam's head back. Dean breathed into Sam's mouth, a small wave of relief washing over him as he watched Sam's chest rise and fall. Windpipe blockage was always a bitch. He counted out loud, five seconds seeming like an eternity before administering the second breath.

Dean continued to give rescue breaths to Sam, periodically checking for a pulse. His mind kept focusing on one thought and one thought alone as he fought to keep Sammy alive. He could hear the voice of his dad speaking in his head: "This is your fault. Everything is always your fault. If you would have just left Sam be who he wanted to be, left him live his own life, none of this would have ever happened. Sam would be happy with his life, his NORMAL life. I give you one job, ONE JOB, and you can't even do that right. Instead you have to fuck everything up and almost get him killed in the process. Sam doesn't need you. He would be better off without you."

Dean was torn from his grievous reflection as he felt Sam begin to cough. Relief flooded Dean's every sense as he rolled Sam over into the recovery position. Sam was alive, breathing. Somehow, although far be it from him to know how, everything was going to be okay. Dean placed his hand on Sam's back and began to rub in a gentle circular motion as Sam continued to sputter out the lake water.

"Sammy…Sam. Hey. C'mon man. Let me see your eyes. Please, God. Let me see your eyes." Dean silently cursed himself at how weak and vulnerable his voice sounded. Weakness was a word that didn't exist in his vocabulary. But when it came to Sammy, he supposed he could make a few exceptions.

"Please, Sammy. Just open your eyes…"

Sam felt as though he was in a dream. It was as though everything was floating by, a surreal sensation overcoming his senses. Sam furrowed his brow in thought, trying to remember what happened. That's when it all came barreling back to him--The dock. Micheal's spirit. Being ripped from the dock. Hanging on waiting for Dean. No Dean. Letting go. Being pulled under, slowly sinking lower and lower. Fighting Micheal's spirit. Still no Dean. Needing air. Continuing to fight. A peculiar sense of relief flooding his mind. Strong arms embracing him. And then nothing.

Sam felt a shiver rack through his frame. He could hear a familiar soft mumbling sound, though he could make out none of the words. Sam attempted to make out the words. Frustration began to worm its way into his mind as the mumbling continued. The only thing Sam could make out was somebody calling his name, and that somebody sounded like they were hurting, emotionally wrought with pain. The voice was filled with warmth and love, as well as a generous amount of concern. Sam racked his brain as he tried to place the voice with a person. His mind was cloudy, as though the lake had seeped into the confines of his mind and flooded his every though. Nonetheless, Sam pushed onward. Suddenly, it occurred to him. It was Dean. Dean had saved him, pulled him to the surface. It was Dean! It had to be Dean.

Sam's frustration peaked as he attempted to reply back to Dean's pleas. Sam could tell by the tone of the mumblings that Dean was begging, pleading for something. Sam began to worry. For Dean to beg, one of two things had to occur: Sam had to be hurt or Sam had to be dying; neither of which sounded pleasant to Sam. Sam focused his attention on Dean's voice, using it as a foothold to regain consciousness. Slowly, the mumbling began to develop into words.

"Hey…Sammy. C'mon man. Let me see your eyes. Please, God. Let me see your eyes."

"Please Sammy, just open your eyes…"

"Sam? Sammy? Can you hear me? Sam? Open your eyes. Sammy, I need you."

As the last syllable of 'you' left Dean's mouth, Sam felt an unexplained surge of energy and was submersed in black. He was out of the dream, closer to regaining consciousness. He attempted to lift his eyelids, disappointment flooding his senses as he received no response. Not even a friggen flutter. He tried again, hearing the raw emotion bleeding from Dean's words. Dean needed him to be awake and he needed him to be awake like yesterday.

''I…It..s…Its S…Sam…" Sam's throat cried out in rebellion as he attempted to call out for Dean. Unfortunately, it came out as more of a cough. Apparently, a near-drowning experience does wonders on the vocal chords…

Sam awaited the cocky reply he was sure to follow. But after several second passed by and there was still no response, Sam assumed that Dean hadn't heard his remark. So Sam swallowed forcefully and tried again, rolling out of the recovery position onto his back. "D..Dean?"

"Sam? Oh god. Sammy, you with me?" Dean held his breath, not willing to believe his ears just yet.

"Yeah…d'ean..." Sam let out a sigh of relief. Dean was here, by his side. Sam was no longer in the lake, fighting Micheal, fighting tirelessly for his life. Dean had saved him yet again.

"Thank God. Man I thought I lost you there for a second. Think you can open those big girly eyes of yours for me?" Dean let out a laugh, a feeble cry for joy.

Sam's eyelids began to flutter rapidly before finally, after a few seconds, forming tiny slits for him to see through. Sam slowly pulled his eyelids up, allowing his eyes to adjust to the harsh sunlight. After blinking several times, the world came into focus. Sam noticed he was lying on the beach, with the water about ten feet away. To his left about fifteen feet was the dock. Sam's eyes lingered on the dock, a gut-wrenching fear taking hold of his stomach. The dock was still standing and that could only mean one thing in Sam's mind—Micheal was still alive. And if Micheal was still alive, than the threat of death was all too real. Sam tore his eyes away from the dock as he heard a gut wrenching noise come from his left. His reactions were still slow due to his lack of oxygen, and a sheer fog had settled in his mind. Sam couldn't quite grasp what had just happened. All he knew was that something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Sam's eyes widened in alarm--Dean was no longer at his side.

Sam's eyes searched anxiously for Dean. His heart rate skyrocketed as hyperventilation set in. His thoughts trailed off, settling uncomfortably on one firm conclusion. If Dean was gone, and Micheal was still alive, then Micheal must have done something undeniably evil to Dean. Sam attempted to stand, collapsing to the ground in a pile of limbs. Note to self: oxygen deprivation doesn't go over so well with the muscles.

"Dean." Sam's cry came out as more of a conversational level of volume then the louder yell he would have preferred. A fit of coughing overtook his lungs as he spat out more lake water.

"Dean!" Sam's call was louder this time, having successfully mustered up enough strength to call for his brother. Sam was on the verge of having a full out panic attack. His near-drowning experience had taken a lot of his strength, strength that may be needed to save Dean from Micheal. Dean had always trusted Sam with his life, had always counted on Sam to watch his back, and now, when it mattered most, Sam felt as though failure was inevitable.

Sam looked once more towards the dock, running on pure adrenaline as he felt all the energy being slowly sucked from his frail body. His heart skipped a beat at the scene displayed before him. Dean was being ruthlessly pulled along towards Micheal's dock. The same rope that had been used to attach the boat to the dock was now securely coiled around the bulk of his neck, cutting off any air supply and preventing speech. As Sam looked to Dean's eyes, he took into account the look of defiant fear was that was plastered on his brother's usually guarded facial features. "DEAN!! HANG ON MAN!!"

Sam stumbled over to the discarded box of matches, as well as the pile of wet matches that had been rendered useless by the rain. Damn Mother Nature. The realization behind the reasoning of Dean's first unexplainable disappearance suddenly came crashing down upon Sam. Dean had gone to the cabin. He had broken into the cabin to find matches to torch the dock. That's why Sam couldn't see him, and also why he didn't get any reply to his first desperate pleas for help. And God could only hope that Dean had had enough sense to drop the matches before diving in to save Sam. Sam peered towards the direction of the abandoned cabin. There, scattered haphazardly in the grass, looked to be what Sam could only pray to be the matches.

Sam staggered over to the area, willing his recovering body to move as fast as possible. He couldn't let Dean down. No. Dean would not die because of some damn lake spirit. Dean wouldn't die ever, not if Sam could help it. As soon as he was within an arm's length, Sam scrapped up a good handful of seemingly dry matches and began to race back towards the dock. Sam looked towards Dean. It was apparent his brother was fighting a losing battle with consciousness at this point. Dean's eyelids were fluttering rapidly, eventually ceasing as the green eyes below rolled back, his body entering into the unconscious state.

Seeing this only pushed Sam farther. He knew Dean needed air and he needed air NOW. Sam was now only feet from the dock, with only one thought running through his mind: 'Gotta save Dean. Gotta save Dean.' Micheal Pristine was going to pay. Of that much Sam Winchester was sure. Nobody messed with the brothers and lived to tell the tale. It was time to send this bastard to hell. With a look of grim satisfaction, Sam lit the entire handful of matches and tossed the flaming wad mercilessly towards the dock. "Burn, baby, Burn."

A/N--So there it is... I hope you liked it. Sorry for those of you who read my last chapter four version. I needed to alter it to make it fit...Let me know what you think if you can. Reviews are love!! Chapter 5 willl be coming up soon.

A/N2: I sincerely apologize for the continuous cliffies i keep dropping on you guys. What can i say? I guess there is a little evil inside us all...) Thanks again for reading!! Much love!