Chapter 9

Sam wandered down the hallway aimlessly with half an hour to kill and nothing to do to kill it, somehow ending up at the elevators, one of which was already open and ready to go down. Taking is as a sign, he passed through the doors and took the descending ride, exiting when the main floor appeared in front of him through the now open doors and headed in the direction of the cafeteria. He wasn't really hungry, but knew his brother was right when he told him he had to eat, even if Dean had just used the excuse as a ploy to get rid of him for a little while. He could feel the tension and frustration coming from his brother, the lack of control he had over what was happening to him already starting to take its toll. Maybe 'me time' is just what he needed.

Scanning the line of food, he couldn't really find anything of interest and just grabbed a sandwich and an apple, his breakfast long since passed through his stomach but still occasionally reminding him why he preferred eating healthy when he burped it up every now and then. Paying for his pseudo-meal and a bottle of water, he took a seat in the corner, wrinkling his nose when he unwrapped the sandwich and saw it was roast beef, and rare at that. He forced it down anyway, followed by his juicy piece of fruit, the water washing it all down as he counted the minutes left to pass before he could head back up and find out just what Dean was up to.

Chucking his trash into the garbage can at the door, he decided to just go back now. Half hour or not, it would be close enough by the time he got returned. It wasn't like Dean had hooked up with some hottie and needed the room all to himself, because let's face it, there were just too many things in the way still that would make anything even remotely enjoyable impossible, and in his condition, that just wasn't going to happen. But then again, he was talking about Dean Winchester, wasn't he? If anyone could find a way around obstacles like those, he could.

He shook his head as he walked out, his eye catching something in the vending machine and chuckling to himself as he stopped and fed some cash in, watching the small bag of his brother's favorite candy coated, chocolate covered peanut sugar fests fall into the dispensing tray. Dean had been such a good boy by eating all of his lunch without one complaint Sam figured he deserved something edible, and really, what could it hurt? He grabbed the M&Ms and stuffed them in his pocket as he started making his way back up, planning on just sitting around and doing nothing since he had nothing better to do until Bobby arrived anyway.

He stepped from the elevator onto the floor just in time to see the nurse that was exiting their room, and for some reason, Sam didn't like the nervous feeling it gave him in his stomach. He'd left Dean unguarded, and considering the constant barrage of emergencies last couple of days, a lot could happen in a half hour. 'To hell with the last five minutes,' he thought as he approached the closed door, pushing it open slowly and peering in, never knowing anymore what exactly he would find going in inside when he came back in. Half expecting to see the worst, he breathed a small sigh of relief to see Dean just staring into space with his eyes half open, almost like he was looking at something Sam just couldn't see as his lips moved in an effort to speak, nothing coming out as his eyes just fell shut and he appeared to be sleeping again.

Sam stood next to his brother's bedside, gently shaking him in an effort to wake him, his motives purely selfish ones. He just wanted his brother's company for a little while, was that really so much to ask? All he'd really seen Dean do over the last five weeks was sleep, except for when he was in the thralls of a supernaturally induced epileptic seizure or throwing up onto the floor in the middle of the night. He just wanted normal again, even if it was their kind of normal.

"Dean, come on man, you slept all day. Can't you just stay awake for a little while, at least until Bobby gets here?" He was begging, not even sure if Dean could hear him.

Sam watched as one brow went up, followed by the fluttering of the eyelid directly beneath it as Dean tried to force it open, fighting against his drug induced need to sleep, needing to tell Sam what he'd finally figured out. It sent a slight chill up Sam's spine to watch his brother try to focus that one open eye on him, it being that eerily blue one as it moved from left to right in search of something to train it's gaze on. Dean just gave up when he couldn't locate Sam anywhere in the room, even though he was standing right in front of him, and let it roll back into his head as the lid shut tight again, and as much as Sam really wanted his brother's company right now, he was glad that eye hadn't actually fallen on him, it making him feel like someone else was staring at him and not Dean.

Instead of trying to look at Sam, Dean tried telling him what he needed to get out before he just couldn't gather coherent thoughts anymore, his voice coming out in nothing but a mumble as Sam crouched down and strained to hear what it was his brother was trying to tell him. All he heard was the older man repeating the same thing over and over like a needle stuck on a broken record as he watched his eyes now moving furiously behind the lids that he just couldn't seem to open anymore.

"We gotta stop it Sam, we gotta stop it," he told him repeatedly in as much of an urgent tone as he could muster, the drugs working their way through his system and just about fully in control now.

"I know man, and we will, tonight, I promise," Sam reassured him as he rested his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"No Sam, we gotta stop it, you've gotta stop it," he slurred, speech becoming a luxury no longer afforded to him now that the drugs had fully taken over, his eyes no longer dancing behind their lids in his head and his breathing becoming slow and ever.

"Don't worry Dean, it will all stop, tonight." Sam just sighed and let him fall asleep, leaving him alone and bored. He was startled by the voice that came in from behind him, never once realizing he wasn't alone anymore, and thinking to himself this was the second time she'd snuck up on them without so much as a sound of warning.

"Hey Sam, looks like we aren't going to get a whole lot done today," Julia strolled in with that no-nonsense look on her face like she was preparing herself for battle. "The nurses told me they'd sedated him again and he'd probably be out all day. I'm beginning to think he doesn't like me very much. I guess I'll just come back tomorrow and try again. Maybe Prince Charming over there will be up for a workout by then."

Sam's look of total confusion was unmistakable as he just stared at her with his mouth hanging open, his brain not sorting through the right words to say as his forehead creased with the furrowing of his brow. He wondered just exactly he had missed in the last half hour.

"Hey, earth to Sam, you alright there? You might want to shut that before flies find a home," she asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face as she started giggling quietly. "You two are like peas in a pod when you're at a loss for words, aren't you?"

Sam let out a small laugh at that himself as the wheels in his head started turning again, finally finding the intelligence to string together the correct words to form a question. "Yeah, I guess we are. What did you mean when you said they sedated him again? Did they say why?"

"Yeah, they said he was complaining of a bad migraine still. He asked them for it apparently. It must have been pretty bad. I'm sorry Sam, I just assumed you knew."

"It's ok, it hasn't been easy the last couple of days for Dean, but I suspect everything will be better tomorrow. You should come back in the morning, I'm sure he'll be ready to face the world again by then." 'I'll make sure of it', he thought.

"You sound pretty confident there Sam. I'll plan on it then. See you tomorrow, and try not to worry too much about your brother," she smiled as she left, leaving Sam alone in the quiet of the room, the silence starting to annoy him as he stared at Dean, wondering if he really had a migraine or if he was full of shit and this was his way of just getting through the day until their problem was finally solved. He didn't want his brother in pain, but he didn't want to think Dean was being a coward either, because if brother was anything, it wasn't a coward. Then again, he was doing a lot of things that weren't Dean lately, so he'd just add this one to the list and move on. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the TV and dropped into a chair, mindlessly flipping through channels as time crawled by, nothing else to do now but wait.

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The last thing Sam remembered was watching Moe, Larry, and Curly beat each other senseless until he heard the gravelly voice booming from across the room and jerking him half awake, the 'loving' kick to his shin completing the job as he rubbed his eyes and threw an equally 'loving' curse in Bobby's direction when the pain finally registered in his leg.

"Don't you take that tone with me boy. You said you'd be ready to go when I got here. All you look like you're ready for is a warm bottle of milk and a blanket," he groused through the smile on his face.

"Sorry man, guess I just couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. It hasn't exactly been sunshine and rainbows since you left, you know?"

"So I gathered. Rip Van Winkle over there gonna be alright on his own or should we wake him and tell him the party's moving on without him?" The older man asked, pointing his thumb in Dean's direction as he continued to sleep like a baby.

"What time is it?" Sam asked, finding it difficult to focus his newly opened eyes on the tiny numbers on the face of his watch.

"It's just after ten, and there's some kind of weird blanket of fog so thick I can barely see through it. Sure as hell hope it extends all the way out to the lake, because I can damn near guarantee nobody is going to see us through that pea soup. Whadda ya say Sam, you ready to make Dean all man again?" He chuckled yet again, the thought of Dean Winchester housing a woman within him still too funny for Bobby to contain himself.

"More then you know. With a little luck, we'll be there and back before he even knows we were gone. He's so doped up right now he'll probably be out until next week," Sam frowned and grabbed his jacket before turning off the television, not even remotely bothering to be quiet. Since Bobby's big mouth hadn't woken Dean, nothing probably would.

Both men left the room, Sam turning off the lights behind them as he closed the door, opting for the Impala instead of Bobby's battered, old truck, the Impala being oddly enough the quieter of the two. They drove the distance at a decent speed, but well under the posted limit for fear of riding up too fast on anything that may be in front of them and rear ending it before they even saw it. That would pretty much cinch Sam's death by the most horrible means possible since Dean still hadn't really gotten over the last time Sam wrecked the car yet, and even though that hadn't exactly been his fault, if he did it again, well, let's just not go there. Weekdays on Wisconsin roads didn't make for much traffic though, most inhabitants of the state tucked safely away in their beds by ten o'clock, unless there was a Packer's game on Monday night, then all bets were off. Everyone and their mother would be out and about for that one. But it wasn't Monday, and the roads were pretty much empty.

They pulled up to the cemetery, parking directly in front of where Sam thought the row of headstones should be in an attempt to keep the car somewhere they'd be able to find it easily when they were done, everything barely visible through the mist, the floodlight Sam had shattered earlier still blessedly broken and casting absolutely no light, not that it would have been much help anyway. Bobby wasn't kidding, it was so foggy that Sam could barely see his own hand in front of his face as he made his way to the trunk, popping it open and pulling out flashlights, shovels, gasoline, salt, and matches. Stuffing the latter into his pocket, he handed the necessities to his partner in crime du jour, and keeping the shovels for himself, marched off in the direction he needed to go, practically plastering his face against each headstone until he found the one he was looking for and wondering if he'd ever actually done a salt and burn with Bobby before as the older man followed close behind.

They silently started their digging, not wanting to break the still of the night and potentially reveal their presence, as shovel full after shovel full of dirt slowly piled up next to the grave as they got deeper and deeper, neither man being able to see the other, even though they were standing mere feet apart. As much as Sam hated not being able to see Bobby, he was grateful that if he couldn't see him, nobody else could see them either. The digging went fast, Sam's shovel finally striking something hollow sounding not long after he'd started, the last few remaining blades of earth he tossed out clearing the way for him to brush the remaining dirt aside and crack open the casket with ease. For an old guy, Bobby had done a good job keeping pace with Sam the entire time, hearing a clunk of his own just as Sam was busting open the lid at the top, he himself breaking through the wood and exposing the lower half of the corpse, even though he couldn't see it.

Sam couldn't help himself, and with morbid curiosity aimed his flashlight at her face, wanting to see her for himself, wanting to look at the woman that had so recklessly almost taken his brother's life as he unconsciously emptied the container of salt over her face and chest. They'd done a fairly decent job of presenting her, save for her face, and after only four weeks in the ground she barely even looked dead. Her arms were crossed delicately over her chest as her hands clutched a rosary, making her look like she was deep in prayer, her silky blonde hair flowing softly against her shoulders in an almost angelic vision of beauty. Her face though, that was another story. Sam could tell it had been damaged pretty extensively under the thick layers of makeup that had been piled on, it barely being recognizable as her anymore, but looking relatively flawless in its own way nonetheless. He had studied the photos of her in the newspaper so many times, he had her face memorized, and the one below him barely looked like her now. He wanted to feel sorry for her, but he just couldn't, and climbing from the hole he and Bobby had just dug, he doused the body from top to bottom with gasoline, struck his match, and let it drop, the fuel igniting and sending waves of heat in their direction.

The night air was cool, and Sam had worked up a sweat as he dug, the chill that had settled in him at the lack of motion slowly disappearing as he actually enjoyed feeling the warmth on his face while he watched her burn, or tried to anyway through the dense fog. If he'd been standing any further away, he probably wouldn't have been able to see anything at all, and for that he felt pretty lucky, the entire evening being one big success on their part so far. They both just stood and watched as the fire died down and burnt itself out, leaving Sam to climb down into the hole to make sure there was nothing left inside it but ash before they filled the trench back in and hiding any evidence they had ever been there in the first place.

Filling in the grave had been faster then digging it up, and they were patting the now flat ground in no time, trying to replace the sod they had so carefully removed and placed to the side before digging away. Confident everything looked acceptable enough, Sam grabbed the shovels, Bobby grabbed the now empty can of gas, and they walked silently back to the car, both pleased with the results of the nights work. Finally, one job that had gone off without a hitch. They brushed the dirt and grime off their clothes before climbing back into Dean's car, and once safely inside, left the little graveyard far behind.

They drove back slowly, the entire job taking less then two hours, their speed increasing the farther west they traveled as the fog started lifting like it knew they no longer needed the safety of cover anymore now that their task was complete. Back at their starting place once again, they dragged their now tired asses back up to the room, Sam wanting nothing more then a shower, clean clothes, and his nice, soft bed to crash in for the night with the hope of peaceful, uneventful sleep looming on the horizon for the first time in two days.

Sam opened the door and entered the dark room, the silence meeting him a pretty good indication that he'd been right and that Dean hadn't even stirred the entire time they'd been gone, which he figured was probably a good thing. Reaching for the light switch on the wall, he slowly turned up the lights, fully intent on waking his brother long enough to tell him that their mission was accomplished and he was free. The lighter it got in the room though, the more he couldn't believe his eyes as they fell on the now empty bed on the other side, his vision falling instead on the partially curled up body now laying on the floor with his back to the door, the unmistakable twitching sending Sam into sheer panic mode. Bobby saw him in the same instant, both men crossing the room in as few steps as they could and almost colliding into each other when they decided to try and take up the same spot on the floor at almost the same time.

The first thing Sam noticed aside from the intermittent twitching was the blood flowing freely from his brother's nose that had now pooled on the floor, every spasm that hit him jerking his head and smearing it across his cheek like paint on a canvas, covering his lips and chin and soaking into his hair. His eyes were open wide, their cold, lifeless stare fixed on some invisible spot on the wall, totally bloodshot and not once blinking the entire time both men watched him in stunned silence. His one bendable leg was drawn up almost to his chest as he clutched his stomach in his good hand, the other arm laying heavily off to the side and useless, it still wrapped in the heavy cast needed to protect it. Dropping to his knees, Sam shook his brother hard, trying to pull him from yet another torturous episode, but Bobby stopped him, noticing something that had gone totally unnoticed by the now frantic younger man.

"Sam, stop! Look at him, he's talking to someone," he pointed out to Sam, the movement of his lips subtle, but obviously engaged in some kind of conversation. "Who else could it be?" He added, wanting to let Dean finish whatever had been started.

"No Bobby, this needs to stop! Look at him, she's going to kill him if she keeps this up," Sam practically screamed as he made a grab for the call button that had fallen on the floor next to Dean's huddled body. Bobby was closer though, and got to it first, stopping Sam from what he was planning on doing.

"Sam, listen to me. There's a lot more going on here then meets the eye. You saw her, we cremated her, there was nothing left. That should have ended it, but obviously it didn't. If we are going to stop this we need to know how, and right now, I think she's the only one that can tell us, and it looks to me like maybe Dean's trying to that find out. Just give him another minute, we need all the information we can get," Bobby reasoned with Sam, and as much as he didn't like it, he agreed with it.

Sam stood by for a few more minutes and watched the one-sided conversation progress, Dean's responses becoming farther apart, until his eyes finally blinked once or twice before fully closing, his body going still and his breathing starting to return to normal while Bobby grabbed a towel from the bathroom and wet it down, trying to clean the blood off Dean's lips and face now that the flow from his nose had completely stopped. Dean let out a soft moan when he realized Sam was next to him and tried to open his eyes to explain to his brother what was going on. He had so much to tell Sam, but the whole thing had left him so exhausted and in so much pain he could only spit out one thing before he blessedly let himself pass out.

"I know everything Sam," he whispered before his eyes shut tight, whatever Sam was saying to his as he drifted away going unheard.

"I think you better call the nurses now Bobby," Sam told him, pretty sure whatever was going on was pretty much over for the time being. Dean needed help, and there was no way they were going to be able to hide this, not once Sam had seen everything the fall to the floor had caused.