A/N ok so I lied about there been 3 chapters left - there are actually 4 more (that's including this one). Thing is chapters 11 and 12 were originally going to be just the one but it got quite long and I decided it would work better if I split it into two. But so as not to leave you with yet another cliff hanger I posted them together. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 11

Stand

Bobby hadn't been up long when he heard the frantic banging on the door of his room. He briefly considered ignoring it and pretending he wasn't there; he had had enough of Winchester dramas for one day and had been looking forward to spending the morning reading a paper, having a greasy fry up and drinking copious amounts of coffee. Throwing on a t-shirt and pulling on his cap - his hair wasn't one for the mornings - he muttered irritably to himself:

"What the hell have those boys gone and done now?"

Sighing deeply when the banging repeated itself, he decided that he really ought to find out what kind of Deep Shit the pair of trouble magnets had now managed to get themselves into.

Opening the door he wasn't at all surprised to see the youngest of the Winchester family gaping at him, breathing heavily, his eyes wide and terrified.

"Bobby, I need your help - I need to borrow your truck. Now."

Standing aside to let the distressed young man into his room Bobby looked at him frowning slightly but unperturbed by Sam's demeanour. Knowing Sam, he had probably discovered an unusual species of mould growing in the motel room fridge and was desperate to contact environmental health and have it removed and the whole area quarantined. Holding up his hands he attempted to calm the young man who he knew had a tendency for excitability and overreacting.

Kids - he thought fondly to himself.

"Sam, slow down. What's going on?"

Sam entered and spun around running a hand through his floppy, brown locks. Trying to calm his breathing he turned his glare on Bobby.

"It's Dean..." he paused to get his breath.

"Well that much I gathered." the older man stood his arms folded across his chest. Deep down he knew the only thing that could get Sam this riled was the boys older brother, but then knowing Dean he had probably woken with a craving for meat and had headed off in the direction of some cheeseburgers or some other form of junk that today's youngsters seemed to be so fond of. His brow furrowed he stood waiting patiently for Sam to get out his story that was obviously so important it couldn't wait until Bobby had had time to have his obligatory morning cup of coffee.

"He took off. He's must have snuck out while I was still asleep. The Impalas gone and I don't know how much time we have but we gotta go now."

Bobby scrubbed a weary hand across his face. He knew it. Another minor event magically transformed into a major drama and it wasn't even seven thirty yet.

"Sam just calm down. You know Dean; he's probably just gone to get somethin' to eat."

Bobby tried his hardest to keep his voice at a moderate level even though his patience was generally thin anyway at this hour of the day. He still hadn't had coffee and he really could do without the latest adventures of Sam and Dean and he was about to say as much when Sam's voice increased in it's ferocity and his face became even more animated - if that was at all possible - and the next words that exited the young man's mouth were enough to make the seasoned hunter's blood run cold.

"No -no-no-no you don't understand. He's gone after the Wraith. Alone."

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The two hunters took off in the direction of Minnesota as fast as Bobby's truck would allow. Bobby's need for coffee now overshadowed by his much more pressing need to catch up with Dean and kick his skinny, white, Kansas ass all over again. Sam had been able to regain his composure now that they were on the road and had begun to explain the situation to Bobby. The situation which was sounding more and more like a situation of Deep Shit as Sam relayed what he believed had occurred in order for Dean to begin this - even for his common sensory challenged older brother - particularly stupid and insane mission.

"I can't believe it. I can't believe I missed. I never do that. I mean maybe the pages were stuck together or something."

Bobby shot him a glance but said nothing, knowing that Sam would get to the point eventually.

"It's my fault all this happened in the first place and now he's gonna go get himself killed. I'm such an idiot!"

Bobby shook his head - what was it with these Winchesters and their desire to shoulder the blame for every damn thing that went wrong?

"Sam, take it easy. How is this your fault?"

"The whole hunt was my idea and I didn't research it properly. I missed something. This morning I found Dad's journal open on the table. Dean had obviously found this extra page of information and I missed it."

"Ok, so what did you miss?"

"The Wraith retains a kind of photographic or psychic memory of anyone or anything that attacks it. Remembers their scent, their aura or something, like a connection or link - it's kind of a defence mechanism, allowing it to destroy anything that may be a threat. Dean's scent will drive it insane with rage - it'll be more pissed than you can imagine and it will be able to detect Dean from a mile off and then it'll be on his ass like a rash and he won't stand a chance."

"But you say Dean knows about this, right? What make you think he can't handle it? He obviously seems to think he can."

"Because my brother is an idiot, Bobby, as you well know."

Bobby shrugged slightly.

"He's not thinking about the risks, he just wants to kill it."

"I can understand that, but why didn't he just wait for you. I mean what's the rush?"

"Did you not just hear the part about him being an idiot?"

Bobby gave Sam a warning glance, causing Sam to look away a little contrite at how he was speaking to the older man. Sam changed his tone quickly.

"Besides there's something else I missed. If a Wraith is interrupted while feeding, it also retains a kind of psychic link on the victim, gradually draining his or her energy and eventually killing them regardless of where they are or how far away. Although the further the distance the more time it takes but it's still only a matter of time. A matter of days. Unless you can kill it. Dean knows that if he doesn't waste that thing soon that kid's gonna die. He's trying to save her life."

Bobby sighed frustrated at the oldest surviving Winchester and his ability for incredible stupidity and rashness.

"Why the hell didn't he just wake us? He must've known we would have gone with him."

"I've given up trying to figure out what goes off inside his head, Bobby. I can only imagine that he saw what he saw and went into auto pilot not wanting to waste anymore time. I know Dean and he'll no doubt be holding himself entirely responsible for this. I mean he could already be too late."

Sam shook his head his stomach turning at the thought of that prospect and what it would do to his brother. Pushing the thought out of his head he focused on the belief that they still had time and that everything was going to be alright dammit because it had to be. Because they deserved a break right? And because they really, really couldn't be expected to take much more.

"He still sees this as his mess. I think he feels he has to fix this himself. Alone."

"Damn Winchesters and there stubborn ass ways."

Sam smirked at Bobby raising an eyebrow.

"I hope you're not including me in that sweeping generalisation, Bobby."

Bobby shot him a brief glance.

"Oh, you have your moments boy believe me."

Sam smiled briefly then frowned picking up his phone and trying it for the tenth time, again frustrated when he reached the familiar voicemail.

"Dammit!"

Bobby looked over sympathetically

"You know that could be a good sign. Means he's still on the road."

"Uh yeah Bobby and you know what? It could also mean that he's out there, bleeding to death while I sit here with my thumb up my ass!"

Bobby was not appreciating how the young man was speaking to him today and shot him another dark look.

"Boy, unless you want me to land you a swift smack upside your head, you'll do well to watch your tone."

Sam looked at him apologetically and a little nervous at the threat which he knew wasn't an empty one.

"That kind of talk is not gonna help Dean one bit. We'll catch up with him; just you sit tight and keep trying his phone."

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If it was at all possible for Dean to be more pissed with himself then he didn't know how and he really didn't want to. He was unsure of how long he had to save Casey's life, but he reckoned it wasn't a great deal considering how much time he had already wasted wallowing in his 'own crap'- as Bobby had so delicately phrased it - and he sure as hell didn't want to waste any more. He knew that Sam was going to be furious with him and Bobby would probably rip him a new one too - again - but right now that was the least of his worries as he gripped the wheel willing the Impala to go faster, his jaw so tense he thought it might shatter.

All this time that thing had been feeding off the girl, slowly destroying her in her sleep and no one knew. Except their Dad. John's words were written down in black and white for them to see but he had been so stupid and wrapped up in his own shit that he hadn't thought to do further research to see if there was anything he could do. The terror he felt that he was going to be too late was almost killing him. He suddenly felt that maybe he had been given a second chance and that maybe the universe didn't hate him after all but he knew that if he managed to destroy the Wraith and it turned out to be too little too late and the girl died anyway then he would go from screwed up to breaking point in sixty seconds and the grief would surely destroy him and this time no one would be able to save him. Not even Sam. It was that thought that kept him going and his foot pushed to the floor as he forced himself to stay focused on his goal, refusing to let the fear and the guilt sway him.

What neither Dean, nor Bobby, nor Sam knew was that the distance between them was surprisingly short. If Dean hadn't jumped a red light and the pair on his tail hadn't stopped to re fuel, then they probably would have caught up with the solo hunter sooner rather than later. But as it happened Bobby and Sam were forced to continue their journey unaware of how much time they had, how far ahead Dean was and whether they would make in time to save his sorry ass from himself and the Wraith.

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Dean wasn't considering the fact that two very pissed off hunters were bearing down on him and was focusing his attentions on how much he was going to relish killing the thing that had indirectly messed up his head over the last few days. That thing was going to die today one way or another of that much he was certain, because this time he was going to do it right, this time he sure as hell wasn't going to miss and hopefully this time there wouldn't be any teenage kids to get in his line of fire.

He didn't notice the hours pass and the change of direction of the sun; all he could think about was getting back to Minnesota, back to the forest and back to the clearing. The journey was irrelevant and made no impact on his memory; it was as if he had got in the car that morning and arrived instantly at the fateful spot where he had begun the journey which was destined to blow everything to shit all those days ago.

It was the same but different, as if somehow fate had tainted this place and created some kind of invisible shroud across it telling anyone that came here that they should leave and never come back. But Dean couldn't leave. He had a job to finish which was well overdue and he wasn't going to bail this time. Checking his weapon for the fourth occasion since he had set of that morning, be began his trek into the woods, the sense of déjà vu not lost on him. Of course he was different now. He was afraid, he was wary, and he was damaged and weakened his confidence knocked but maybe that was a good thing, because now he held a healthy fear and respect for his prey but more importantly his head was firmly screwed on because this was his last chance and he really couldn't afford to mess it up.

His boots felt heavy to him as he made the journey towards the clearing, the moderately warm sun feeling too hot to him bringing a thin sheen of sweat to his forehead. The ground seemed to sink beneath each step and with every passing second his soul seemed to weigh him down that little bit more. But he didn't falter and his feet continued to carry him further and further from the road towards the darkness that awaited him. It had taken them less than an hour to arrive there the first time they had made this journey but Dean had no idea of how many minutes had passed. He remembered the way somehow and he didn't really have to think about it - it was if he knew exactly where to go as if something was calling him, beckoning him and reeling him in and it made him shudder with the thought that maybe it wasn't him who was doing the hunting.

And then he saw it. The place where everything had come crashing down around him, where the air seemed heavy with death and fear and the agonising sound of a young girls screams, exploding in his ears and almost sending him crashing to his knees. He gasped as his mind was assaulted by images and memories too horrifying, the sound of a gunshot and the sickening smell of blood pounding his senses making him want to throw up. He forced himself to breathe as he walked over to the spot where she had fallen staring almost hypnotised and he heard her in his mind screaming at him begging him once more to help her.

For a moment there was only him in the entire universe and nothing else existed. Lost in his own head, his world melted away and he forgot why he was here and he forgot all the things his dad had taught him. He forgot his senses and he forgot his weapon and he forgot that he was supposed to always, always check his six and of course he had no idea that he was about to be attacked by the very thing which he hunted and it was on top of him before he even knew it was there.

Pain exploded across his back rudely awakening him from his daze as he felt sharp talons tear through the skin sending him crashing to his knees. He reached behind him for his weapon which was stuffed in his seat pocket, but before he could grasp it he was knocked hard in the face by something blunt and heavy, sending him sprawling on to his back gasping in pain. Now face to face with the Wraith he could just about make out the outline of the creature and he was instantly gripped by a crippling terror knowing that the beast had caught him off guard and now held the advantage.

Before he had time to react the Wraith lashed him cruelly across the chest, ripping through his shirt and his skin, immediately drawing a cry of pain from the hunter, his eyes screwing up tightly as he fought to regain control. He attempted to back off but was grabbed around the throat and held high in the air before being thrown across the clearing his head colliding with a tree as he landed heavily. Dazed he pushed himself up into a sitting position feeling the warm trickle of blood seep down his face from the wound on the side of his head. His skull pounding, he once again reached for his gun but it was no longer there. The force of being thrown several feet in the air had dislodged it from it's place in his pocket and it lay on the grass some feet away out of Dean's reach.

His breathing increased along with his heart rate as the creature made its way closer and closer to him and the realisation hit him that it didn't just want to feed, it wanted to play with him, torture him first. His eyes wide and fixed on the beast, he watched, swallowing hard and trying to blink the tears and sweat out of his eyes in order to focus on the thing that approached. Sat with his back pressed against the tree he had fallen into he let out a desperate and terrified gasp as the Wraith's clawed hand reached down and grabbed his face. Their eyes locked and Dean was suddenly paralysed with fear. He was going to die now and so was Casey. He had failed and all he could think about was how he had let her down along with everyone he cared about and shit Sammy would be so pissed with him.

The creature moved it's hungry jaw closer to Dean's and he was sure it was about to feed until it hesitated and released him lashing viciously across the face with it's claws leaving two trails of crimson, one across his left cheek and another above the eyebrow.

The force of the blow knocked Dean face down on to the floor, laughing almost hysterical as he realised his time wasn't yet up and the creature was planning on having some more fun. Deciding he would have some of his own he kicked out hard with both feet at the creatures legs momentarily disabling it as it screeched in anger. Taking his chance he scurried on his hands and knees over to where his weapon had fallen and was about to wrap his strong fingers around it when he felt a set of talons scrape down his leg tearing the skin through his jeans effortlessly, forcing out a soul deep cry of pain from Dean's lungs, as it grabbed his foot and flipped him on to his back, his gun now behind him just inches out of his reach.

Dean panted and gasped trying to push away the burning sensation in his leg as he felt the sickening dampness soak through his jeans wondering how long he had before he bled to death.

Once again facing the creature Dean was gripped by fear as he stared up into the face of the one who wanted his soul. Gasping painfully for breath as his chest tightened, his hair was grabbed and his head pulled back hard as the Wraith hovered over him pulling him off the ground towards it's jaw and Dean knew it was lunch time.

Stretching his arm behind him he felt the muscles pull agonisingly as he attempted to make his arm longer than it was. The creature paused and seemed to relish the sheer terror and agony in it's prey's eyes as they locked with it's own and Dean swore he could see right into the thing and what he saw was darkness and death and nothing else and it seemed to be calling to him, tempting him to become one with the shadows which lay beyond the dark and empty holes in the creatures head, almost as if it knew him and the things he desired and the never ending ache that lay in his battered soul, the ache to rest to flee and to escape and to simply cease to be.

And then for some reason he blinked and he told himself it was the sweat and blood dripping into his eyes but it was enough to break free from the hypnotic gaze and he made one last attempt to increase the length of his arm his face screwing up in pain as the muscles and tendons screamed.

And then he felt it; the touch of metal on his finger tip and it was enough to gain purchase and claw it towards him until his hand wrapped tightly around the reassuring, cold barrel of his gun. Using all his strength he brought it up to point at the creatures head and suddenly he went limp losing the use of his arm and pretty much everything else. Time seemed to stop and his arm simply hung there the gun pointing at the ground. His mind was still and quiet and he felt incredibly peaceful as the Wraith began to feed on him, sucking out his energy, his spirit and everything that defined him and in that moment which seemed to last an age he considered allowing it to take it's full and surrender to the wrench on his soul. Maybe this was his time now, this was his chance; his chance to rid himself of the nightmares and the horror and the pain and to finally get some rest. In that moment he could have happily sank into the sweet oblivion that beckoned him and in that moment the feeling of complete serenity that overcame him was almost enough to stop him fighting and relinquish his tentative hold on this frequently miserable and thankless existence.

Until he heard it.

That sound that could pierce his soul like ice and fire, the one thing that could reach him, that could touch him, that could make him open his eyes, that could awaken him from his dreams and from his nightmares and the one thing that spoke truth where there was only lies and seek him out finding him in the darkness and pulling him forcefully into the light. It was his beginning and his end and the only sound in the universe which gave his life any meaning.

It was the irrepressible and tenacious sound of his flesh, his blood - his brother, screaming his name as if his was the only name left in the world and on hearing that he made the only decision that could ever make sense.

He brought up his weapon, corrected his aim and pulled the trigger.

TBC