Chapter 7

Dean remembered seeing it on the way to the windmill. At the time, he'd thought it curious that he'd come across one here, of all places. After all, this was hell, wasn't it? Or that was what he had been led to believe. His mind wandered as he mindlessly put one foot in front of the other. He thought about Sam, and what he must be going through. He knew by now he would have called Bobby, and the two of them would be looking for him. He also knew that they would probably never find him. And what the hell would Sam think was going on when phantom pains wracked his body. That had to be driving him even crazier. The only comforting thought was that Bobby would be there for him. Bobby was always there for them, since their dad had left them. The thoughts in his head were the only things keeping him going, the little bit of energy he'd regained while sleeping quickly sapped once he'd started walking again.

Thoughts of Sam were starting to eat at him, so he shifted his thinking. This time, he thought about Lily. He remembered how he wanted her, grabbing her, kissing her, laying down beside her, pulling her on top of him, her kissing him back, then nothing else until he woke up, and she was gone. He feared that something had happened to her, and it wasn't good. There was something about her that made him want to take care of her, or save he, or bothr.

Thinking about that only bothered him more, so he shifted once again, this time to how little time he had left. Even he had started noticing the changes in himself. His skin was a pale, gray color now. He could see it in his flesh every time he looked at his arms, and when he'd had his shirt off, looking at his own chest slightly sickened him. There was little to no color in the skin anymore. And he remembered the warning. He was pretty thankful that he couldn't see his face, for as much as he liked to look at himself, right now, he was afraid of what he may see. He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost walked right past the entrance.

"Why do they put fences around cemeteries anyway. Doesn't keep anything in that wants to get out, and it sure as hell doesn't stop people like me from getting in. And why would you need cemeteries here. Can you kill and bury a soul? I thought once you were here, it was for eternity." Dean didn't care if he was talking to himself, he was pretty sure someone was listening anyway. "Ok, we've been through water, wind, fire, so I guess this would be your idea of earth, right. Is this shitty game finally over, or are we going into extra innings?"

That familiar, disembodied voice spoke to him, seemingly from every direction. "Dean, you've come far, so fast. I am truly impressed. You knew you were more intelligent then you make yourself out to be. However, there seems to be one little thing you have forgotten. The fifth element, most commonly ignored, as it would imply there is something in the world other then physical. And most people don't want to believe in the spiritual, or as you call it, the supernatural. Oh, and the cemetery, well, where do you think the weaker of my kind go once they're exorcised by your kind, or killed? It is possible to kill us, you know. Survival of the fittest applies, even here. The weak are devoured by the strong, making the strong even more powerful. We are not as immortal as you may think, well, some of us are, but not all. Oh well, enough of my rambling. I'm sure you'd like to get on with your final test. Are you ready?"

"Well, since you asked, I could use a nice, juicy steak and some French fries first. Any chance I could score that before we reach our exciting conclusion?"

"And spoil all my fun? No, I don't think so. You have little time left, and a major task at hand. Did you think the end would be easy? That you would be handed your freedom on a silver platter? Maybe you are the fool that others think you are."

"Your best friends are demons, and you call me a fool. You think I haven't figured out who you are yet? Think again. I know exactly who you are, and I know exactly what you're capable of. And if you think I'm going to let you win, you can think again. Give me your best shot, you haven't had much luck yet."

"Such defiant confidence. It excites me. Alright, seek it inside, and if you find it, you can have it. Just pray you can get to it in time."

Dean could sense she was gone, at least she'd made him think she was gone. He was no fool, he knew she was still watching him. He thought about what she'd said.

"I guess I can safely assume she's not referring that really bad Bruce Willis movie when she bitches about the fifth element. What the hell was that about, anyway? Seek it inside she says, she could have at least opened the gate."

With a frown spread wide across his face, he circled the graveyard, looking for the best possible spot to jump the fence. And there really wasn't one. It stood at least ten feet high, the wrought iron pickets adorned with sharp spikes atop each one, with smaller spikes running along the entire length of the wall itself.. With one good hand, the climb would not be easy, and getting over the top without slicing open what he thought was his most important asset, was going to be damn near impossible. But he had to try, he had no other choice.

"Sorry Sammy, hopefully this will be all over soon. You know when they say this is gonna hurt you more then it hurts me, it's not figurative this time."

Settling on a spot at the front gate, Dean decided that was his best bet. The iron work was intricate, but he was pretty sure he could find some good footholds to aid his way up. With two good hands it would be a piece of cake, but not with only one. He'd have to rely on his legs and feet to do most of the work. He started up, one foot finding a decent place to anchor itself, and lifting himself up, found another with the other foot. He repeated this over and over, until he was finally at the top. Steadying himself with the good hand, he swung one leg over, then the other, holding on for dear life. It was too far to jump, and searching with his feet for support, finally found a good hold. He slowly climbed down enough to jump the rest of the way to the ground, landing with a resounding thud and he hit ass first. He'd worked up quite a sweat, and did a great job of tiring himself out completely, but made it over relatively unscathed.

"Mission accomplished. That was for you, Sam. Now what?"

Dean scanned the area, looking for the obvious first. Nothing jumped out at him, nothing out of the ordinary. It looked like every other cemetery in every other crappy little town. Except this one seemed to go on and on. He knew there had to be an end to it, he had circled most of it trying to figure out a way in, but now that he was inside, it was a whole different ball game.

He thought he'd heard someone calling his name, and concentrating hard on the voice, started off in the direction he was sure it was coming from. The more he walked, the louder the voice got, the more clearer it became. He was sure he knew who's it was. When he'd finally found it, he knew he was right.

"Lily, where the hell did you go, and how the hell did you get here?"

"I don't know. I remember being with you, then I woke up here, with another one of these notes for you in my hand. I wish someone would tell me what the hell is going on here. I just want to go home, is that too much to ask. What could I possibly have done to deserve this, huh?"

She clamped her hands over her face, tears streaming out from underneath them. Not knowing what else to do, Dean put his arms around her and just held her, until she'd finally stopped trembling, and he was sure she could breath again. He hated seeing a woman cry, especially when he was sure he was the cause of all this. Rubbing her eyes, she'd finally calmed herself enough to hand over the note she'd been given.

"Please tell me this is the last one, that this is almost over."

Ripping it open, he shook his head and told her, "One way or another, this is the last one."

In life, it was never meant to be tortured or sold,

It leaves you inside feeling dead, empty and cold,

It's precious to none, but to you it's worth more then gold,

It seems well out of your reach and impossible to hold.

Find it in time, and it is yours. Fail, and all that is yours is mine.

Dean dropped to his knees, head slumped, eyes closed. He didn't need to read it twice to know what she was talking about, and how much was really at stake now. With renewed determination, he started searching the cemetery, praying he would know it when he saw it.

Bobby and Sam had both been mortified by the thought of the live action feature they were forced to watch suddenly turning into a porn flick. They ended up being grateful they didn't have to witness what they thought for sure was going to happen. She'd merely kissed him, and he passed out. Then, she was gone, leaving Dean alone before the fire. With Dean asleep, all the pain Sam had been in vanished, like nothing had ever happened. His brother's sleep was the best thing for Sam. As much as he didn't want Dean wasting precious time, he was in desperate need of the temporary reprieve. He wasn't exhausted, or in agonizing pain, at least for the time being. He could finally think with a clear head.

"I don't get it Bobby. If she wants him to lose so bad, why does she keep helping him?"

"Good question Sam. I'm still trying to figure that out myself. I'm just as confused as you are right now. I do think I've finally figured out who she is though, and if I'm right, there are only a few others that are more powerful then her. If she wanted to, she could just snap a finger, and he'd be dead. Either she's taken a liking to him, or she's got some other kind of plan for Dean, I'm sure of that."

"You're not saying she's…"

"Yeah Sam, that's exactly who I'm saying she is. And brace yourself, I think Dean's waking up."

And Bobby was right. The second Dean opened his eyes, Sam felt all the aches, pains, and exhaustion return, only not as severe as it had been before Dean fell asleep. Fully awake, Sam felt a sense of dread when he saw how much more vibrant Dean had become. He was almost in full Technicolor now, indicating how close to the end he was. They watched him open and read the latest riddle, and couldn't believe he just started off on his way again.

"Bobby, have you been able to figure out any of those riddles yet?"

"Yeah Sam, the first one. That was the only one. Maybe it takes a warped mind to decipher the riddles of another warped mind."

Sam had to laugh at that. Bobby was right about one thing, Dean did have a warped mind. He watched Dean walk, step after step, until he could no longer keep his eyes open. The next thing Sam felt wrenched him harder then any other physical pain or torture Dean had inflicted on himself. He saw his brother on his knees, head hung low. The feeling of grief and guilt that washed over him was almost more then he could take, and it made Sam start to cry.