Chapter 7

Dan grabbed Lou by the shoulders, and looked directly into her eyes, his guilt obviously increasing with every glance he took between her in front of him, and Sam at the bottom of the stairs. It took all the energy Lou had to make it out to the hallway, and she'd spent every last ounce of it. It took longer for to sigh to escape her lips then it took for her to go down. Catching her in his arms, she looked up at him, mouthing just one word to Dan.

"Why?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I thought, well, it doesn't matter what I thought, does it?"

"Help Sam, please," yet another whisper, before darkness swallowed her whole once again.

Dean was already at Sam's, his shirt bunched up and pressed firmly against his brother's head, trying to stop the bleeding. Dan laid Lou down gently on the floor and made it down the stairs, guilt welling up more and more every step he took bringing him closer to Sam's motionless form. He lay on the floor, arms and legs splayed in all different directions. When Dean saw Dan coming, it took every ounce of self control he had not to knock his head clean off his shoulders.

"Dean, I'm sorry. Please, let me help him."

"I think you've helped him enough, don't you?"

"I overreacted, I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me. The more I try to get close, the more she just pushes me away. Then Sam comes, and she's like an open book to him. I couldn't stand it anymore."

"You overreacted? You just tried to kill Sam because you thought he was pinching your squeeze. I think overreaction is an understatement. You ever think of joining stalkers anonymous?"

The groan coming from the floor shut them both up instantly. "Could someone help me up please, I think we have bigger fish to fry at the moment. We can save the ass kicking for later."

"Sam? You ok?" Dean asked his brother, trying gingerly to bring him to a sitting position. Seeing Sam's face, he knew he was far from ok.

"If that bat didn't break my collarbone, I'm pretty sure those stairs did. Good thing their carpeted, I think it helped softened the blow."

Sam thought he could almost hear the relief spread across Dean's face. Dropping his now bloody over shirt, Dean slid one arm under Sam's right shoulder, and the other around his waist, and slowly hauled him up off the floor. Sam couldn't suppress the agony in his voice as he finally made it upright, holding his left arm close to his body for its own protection as his shoulder and arm slumped downward at an odd angle. His head wound had thankfully tapered down to a slight ooze; nothing a couple of stitches couldn't take care of.

"Sam, I'm sorry. I never knew you guys were her brothers, she never told me. Why would she keep that a secret? Why does she keep everything a secret lately?"

"Probably to keep you alive, dumbass." Dean mumbled under his breath. Mumble or not, Sam heard it, and if possible, scowled even more.



"Dan, take Sam downstairs and fix him up, we've got work to do."

Dean dictated his instructions and without hesitation, bounded up the stairs, scooped Lou up off the floor, and headed in the same direction. Even carrying the small load, he made it to the basement first. He laid her down on the couch, covering her still frigid form with nearest blanket he could find. Crossing the room in just a few steps, he needed to make it to Sam, needing to know just how badly Dan had damaged his baby brother. Dean was physically exhausted already, and he knew if they were going to finish this tonight, he couldn't do it alone. He knew without a shadow of a doubt he was going to need Sam's help.

Dan sat Sam on an exam table, immediately listening to the sounds of breathing from his chest. Satisfied there was no other internal damage, he began testing for any possible nerve damage. All five fingers seemed to be working just fine, and Dan was relatively convinced that there was nothing more than the broken clavicle.

"We really should x-ray this, just to be sure," Dan stated matter-of-factly.

"For what, to tell us what we already know? Unless you can do that here, we don't have time anyway," Dean responded, while examining Sam's head. :"Just give me some sutures and let me sew this up back here. It's not that bad, only a couple should do it."

"Let me anesthetize that for you first, will ya? And what do you mean, you don't have time?" Dan's question initiated Sam's line of questioning now.

"Dean, you know something. What did you find out?" The hope that Dean may have found the answer was almost enough to make Sam forget the pain he was in, until Dan stuck the needle into the broken skin of his scalp.

"Well, I found out for sure it isn't Dan here, but I guess I was wrong figuring we were safe from him."

Dan looked up, not quite sure if or how he should respond to that. Figuring it better to stay silent, he just continued listening to the brothers.

As Dean started stitching, he started telling Sam what he knew. "Dan seems to be a pillar of the medical community around here, but Nurse Alex, she's apparently another story. In fact, when I talked to the very lovely Nancy in the hospital HR department, after speaking to Grandma Carol, she couldn't find any record of an Alex Mora, or Alexandra Mora, or any nurse named Alex/Alexandra on staff there at all. She just showed up for duty one night, worked there about a month, and just disappeared. I figured that to be right around the time Lou started getting sick. I checked Dad's journal for something, anything that can suck energy like that. Besides the shtriga, all I found was some reference to something called a moroi."

"Wait, I came across that online while you were gone. Said something about it being a type of vampiric phantom or ghost that lives in its dead body, but can leave the grave to draw energy from the living. You don't think that's what this is, do you?" The light in Sam's mind started growing brighter with every thought that came through his head.

"Wait until I'm finished, Sam. There's a lot more. I was thinking the same thing, dead but undead, so I hit the local cemeteries. You know, this little shithole town has three cemeteries. There are more dead people here then live ones."

"Dean, please! Get to the point." Sam didn't mean to scream at his brother, but the words came out at the same moment Dan was pushing on the reddish-purple bulge on Sam's upper chest. Dan shook his head, grabbed an ice pack and Ace bandage, and just started wrapping the shoulder and arm up tight. When he was done, Sam looked like he'd just pitched twelve innings in game seven of the World Series.



"Easy, Shirley. Over the last six months, eight people have been buried in this little town. Three of natural causes, three in car accidents. That narrowed it down to two, both of which died violent deaths. Judy Phillips was apparently in her kitchen making dinner when her husband decided a divorce would take too long, and she'd probably get everything anyway. He emptied their bank accounts, and the coroner's report said he stabbed her in the neck, covered her and the kitchen in gasoline, and lit the house up. They still haven't found him yet. And that pretty much rules her out as our culprit."

Tying off the last stitch and turning to face his brother, Dean continued. "That leaves Alexandra Wisniewski."

Dan did interrupt this time. "I remember that story. Young local girl, about twenty-four. Moved away after she received her RN degree in Rockford. Story went she fell into some strange shit, devil worship, I think. Apparently, some of her fellow cult members decided they needed a human sacrifice to bring them closer to whatever it was they worshipped, so they volunteered her. Found her a week after they'd killed her. Her parents still live here in town, had her body brought back here to be buried in the family plot."

"Tell him what he's won, Johnny!" Dean announced. "I went to talk to her parents. Nice people; totally devastated. She was their only child. They can't believe that she'd have gotten into anything like that willingly, considering she'd been raised by a Sunday school teacher. They gave me this nice photo, you know, for the book I'm writing on evil cults in America."

Dean winked as he produced the picture from his back pocket. And there she was, just as stunning in life as she obviously was in death. Sam glanced at it, but couldn't stand to look for more than a few moments at a time. He should have known something was wrong with her, the way it felt when she touched him, the way she made him feel inside. Considering all the physical pain he was in right now, the simple sight of that photo of a dead woman was what sent him over the edge. And when Dean saw his hand fly up to cover his mouth, he knew what was coming. He shoved a trash can under his brother's face just in time to catch last night's dinner.

Dan waited patiently for Sam to compose himself before he started asking his questions. "Could someone tell me what planet you two are actually from, or did you escape from the mental institution together?"

"Dan, there are things out in the world that most people know nothing about, and if they did, they wouldn't believe half of it anyway. Didn't you ever get scared of the things that went bump in the night? I'm telling you, they really were there. They weren't just a figment of your imagination. And some of them feed off the living. They can't let go to the real world, and hold on to it as long as possible. Sam and I here, we fix that."

"So, you're telling me that the two of you are like vampire hunters, and some evil dead thing is sucking the life out of her. And if I believed that, what exactly do you plan on doing about it?"

"Go kill it, what else. It's what we do."

Sam cut in this time, "Dean, if we hadn't been so distracted when we first got here, we may have figured this out a long time ago. Mora, do you know what that means? Moroii are Romanian, but translated into Polish, it's Mora. Damn it, Dean, how could we be so stupid?"

"Sam, how were we supposed to know? If Dr. Venkman hadn't filched the EMF meter from my stuff, we still probably wouldn't know. Guess we owe you thanks for that one."

"But Dean…"



"No buts, Sam. We know what we need to do, we just gotta do it. And we gotta do it before it's too late. That last attack almost killed her. That bitch comes for dinner one more time, we're gonna be salting and burning Lou next."

"Dean, get the laptop. We need to find out how to stop her."

"I already know, Sam. We need to dig her up, remove her heart, and burn it first. Then, we have to burn the body after. First kill the heart, then the soul. Piece of cake."

"Dean, don't say piece of cake. I hate cake. And every time you say that, it's more like a bowl of shit. How the hell am I supposed to help you dig, too? I can't even scratch my nose."

Dean contemplated that comment carefully before responding. Sam would never deny Dean back-up; unless he thought he'd be more of a liability then an asset. Knowing he'd already overdone it today, Dean didn't relish the thought of going it alone. He wasn't sure he could even dig that deep into the ground by himself right now. He had only one other option.

"Well, guess I'll just have to take Dan. How about it, ready for a taste of the real world? You look like you can handle a shovel."

The look of shock on Dan's face was quickly replaced with one of sheer horror. "You want ME to go with you to a cemetery, help you dig up a dead body, cut its heart out, and burn it? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Yep, that's what I'm telling you. You're the reason Sam's in this condition anyway, aren't you? If you want to save Lou's life, you better not think too long about your answer."

"Dean, no. You're just asking for trouble if you take him with you. Give me a minute, I'll go. I'll be fine. Let's just get it done."

"No. You're staying here and protecting her. If that thing shows its face, you gotta keep it away for as long as possible. If she senses we're on to her, who knows what she'll do. Besides, I just need Dan for the grunt work anyway. I'll handle the rest myself."

"You guys have totally lost your minds. The only place I'm going is to the phone, and calling the police to tell them there are two crazy grave robbers looking desecrate some young woman's final resting place. You two need to be locked up."

"Good idea Dan, go call the police. Then you'll be arrested for trying to kill Sam, and Lou will be dead by morning. Then the minute they let me out, you'll be dead, because if my sister dies because of you, I won't hesitate to return the favor. I don't usually kill people, but there's a first time for everything."

"Dean, did you just hear what you said?"

"Yeah Sam, I just threatened Dan's life if he doesn't help me. So what?"

"No Dean, you've never actually called her your sister before." Sam had a gnawing feeling in his gut. If Dean unconsciously let that thought slip, he was pretty sure Dean was at his boiling point, and Dan was a dead man already, he just didn't know it yet.

All three men were silenced by sound of shattering glass from across the room. And all three were instantly in front of the source. The lamp on the end table next to the couch had been thrown with just enough force to break it, the attempt at gaining attention finally successful.



"How many times to I have to call your names before you answer me?" Lou's voice was barely audible, the three of them straining to hear it.

"Maybe if you got that big mouth of yours working a little louder, we'd hear you," Dean countered, always relying on his dry humor to get him through impossible situations.

"Dan, listen, everything they've said is true. If you don't believe them, believe me. And believe this."

Pulling down her shirt, she showed Dan the evidence that had been left behind. He put a hand over it, repulsed by the heat emitting from it when the rest of her body was so cold. And he knew it wasn't a natural feeling. He realized that maybe, Sam and Dean were right.

"OK, I'll help. What do you want me to do?"