SUMMARY: A vengeful spirit's attack leaves Dean hypothermic and fighting for life, while a concussed Sam, lost and alone, battles to get back to his brother. Story takes place mid-to-late Season 2, but before the events of All Hell Breaks Loose.
DISCLAIMER: Nope. Don't own Supernatural. Still playing in Kripke's sandbox. Will happily vacate premises when strike is over and Kripke & Co. are allowed to play here again.
A/N: Once again, a great big thank you to Heather for the medical beta. I tinkered with the chapter when I got it back so any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone. TraSan: the second part of this chapter is for you!
BRIDGING TWO SOLITUDES
CHAPTER 6
"Drowning?" Bobby's heart rate ramped up as he watched the ICU staff work on Dean. "You mean his lungs are filling with fluid?"
Doc nodded. She'd known Bobby long enough to know he didn't like to be coddled. When someone he cared about was in trouble he just wanted the facts.
"His body is not taking in enough oxygen." Doc offered him a tight smile. "But Dean's here in the ICU, he's already on a ventilator and they're catching the problem early. They're giving him diuretics which will help his body get rid of the excess fluids. We get rid of that and he should be able to absorb the oxygen he's being deprived of right now."
Bobby's eyes remained glued on Dean. "And if he can't?" When Doc didn't answer right away, he turned his gaze to her. "Doc?"
She shoved her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. "Then we have to worry about pneumonia, organ failure….." Her jaw clenched. "But don't borrow trouble, Bobby. Like I said, they caught it early."
She took a step closer to the bed, watching as the ICU chief continued working on Dean. "Bill?"
Dr. Bill Everett glanced up at Doc. "The drugs are taking hold. I'm optimistic. I've also got him on a broad-spectrum antibiotic to help fend off pneumonia. And I think we'll leave him on the vent for the full 24 hours. to be safe." He turned to offer a reassuring nod to Bobby. "Your nephew is a fighter. He's doing everything he can to beat this."
Bobby nodded. "Why hasn't he come to yet? Is he in a coma?"
Dr. Everett shook his head. "No. The head injury is a concern, and we'd be happier if he had regained consciousness before now, but he's exhausted. He needs rest, time to give his body a chance to recover."
Doc rested her hand reassuringly on Bobby's arm. "Like Bill said, he's a fighter, but he's been fighting all day. Let's give him a chance to recharge his batteries before we hit the alarm bell, okay."
Bobby nodded. "I just don't like seeing him so……so still. It's not Dean."
Doc smiled. "I'll agree with you on that. But a neurologist has been assigned to Dean's case. He's already run a battery of tests and so far there's no major cause for concern. There's an MRI scheduled for later. That will tell us more. Obviously, we won't know the full extent of the head injury until he wakes up but, like I said, let's not borrow trouble."
"Okay." Bobby cleared his throat. "Well, while you docs do your thing, best I can do is go find that redwood of a brother of his." He motioned with his head toward Dean. "Soon as I know he's stable, I'm heading' out to look for Sam."
Doc nodded. "Mind if I tag along?"
Bobby glanced at Doc. "What about Dean?"
Doc smiled reassuringly. "Dean's in good hands. I've got my pager so the hospital will let me know if he takes a turn for the worst. But given how long Sam's been gone, he may need medical help. If you find him, and I pray to God you do, I can be of more use with you than staying here."
Bobby walked up to the foot of Dean's bed. Despite the flurry of activity in the room since the alarm went off, Dean hadn't moved. Bobby reached up to rub his beard, exhaling audibly. "I'm going to go bring Sam back. You just hang in there, Dean, and if you don't have the phone numbers of at least two nurses by the time I get back, you and I are going to have a serious talk."
They stayed with Dean until they were sure he was out of immediate danger then headed out. By the time they pulled onto the gravel side road that would take them to the bridge, it was daybreak.
Doc guided her car round a gentle bend in the road, then hit the brakes suddenly. The Impala was parked on the side of the road right in front of them.
Bobby's eyes narrowed. Dean's Chevy was out in the open, no attempt made to hide it. That told him the boys had no intention of being away from the car for long. But the fact it hadn't been towed almost 24 hours after Dean had been pulled from the river, also told him the cops hadn't found it either.
And that meant they likely hadn't been down to the bridge, giving Bobby and Doc the first chance to check it out for clues to Sam's disappearance.
Doc pulled her car to a stop just behind the Impala, gravel crunching quietly beneath its tires, and shoved the sedan into park. She glanced from the car to the thick forest that lined each side of the road. The optimist in her wanted to see Sam pop up from the Impala's back seat where he'd fallen asleep, or come strolling out of the trees, crooked grin lighting up his face as he blurted out some wacky explanation for why he'd been out of touch for so long.
The realist in her recognized those thoughts for the fantasy they were. The only plausible reason Sam wasn't twisting his lanky frame into a pretzel, trying to sleep on the small, plastic chair at Dean's bedside, was that something was keeping him away from his brother. And whatever it was couldn't be good.
Bobby climbed out of Doc's car and walked over to the Impala, reaching into his pocket for his keys. He'd had a key to Dean's Chevy since it was rebuilt following the crash with the semi. Doc stepped out of her car, slammed the door and walked around to stand beside Bobby as he opened the Impala's trunk.
He took out two duffle bags and then lifted the trunk's false bottom. Bobby's practised eye scanned the items in the weapons locker; it was full, even Dean's favorite Colt 1911 was tucked safely in place. It looked like a sawed-off was the only thing missing but that didn't surprise him; Dean didn't go anywhere empty-handed if there was even a chance of running into something supernatural.
As Bobby checked out the trunk, Doc pulled her phone from her pocket and hit re-dial. She sighed as once again the call went straight to Sam's voicemail.
Bobby tilted his head at Doc. She shrugged as she put away the phone. "I just keep hoping, one of these times, if I keep trying, he'll answer." She shook her head. "Wishful thinking, I know, but I just need to do…..something."
Bobby smiled, loading rock salt cartridges into a sawed-off before tossing the Winchesters' duffle bags back in the trunk and slamming it shut. "You covered Dean's tracks to keep the cops off his tail, that's a big something. Now come on, let's go check out the bridge."
With a brief nod to Doc, he turned and followed the worn path through the trees to the bridge. Doc fell in step behind him. She thought back to the information they'd scanned through briefly before leaving the hospital. "So this haunted bridge story – it's some kind of spin on the Woman in White legend?"
Bobby nodded. "Tourist brochures say a young woman waited each day for her soldier beau to return from the Civil War. Only he never did so, broken-hearted, she threw herself into the river. Now she haunts the bridge, still waiting for him to come home."
The trail widened and Doc moved up to walk beside Bobby as he spoke. "The locals tell a slightly different tale; they say the soldier beau was actually a bastard who came home from the war safe and sound, but already married to someone else. His jilted fiancée threw herself off the bridge in grief, and now lies in wait for other cheating men and makes them pay."
Doc nodded. "And the latest death, the one that piqued Sam and Dean's interest, lends more credibility to the locals' theory, right?"
"Yeah." Bobby thought back to the newspaper articles he'd scanned online. The latest victim was a salesman on an overnight stay in town. He'd apparently asked about the old bridge at his hotel so, when his body washed up a couple of days later, authorities ruled it a suicide, deciding he'd gone out to the old bridge to throw himself off because his life was falling apart.
"Turns out the salesman was in the midst of a nasty divorce battle with his wife accusing him of adultery."
Doc frowned. "But if there's any truth to that theory, why would the ghost go after Sam and Dean? Neither of them is in a committed relationship, and neither is the type who would get involved with a married woman, knowingly at least."
Bobby shrugged. "Spirits aren't always the most logical bunch but, yeah, something is off. I've got some more digging to do once we've checked out the bridge. Figure out what we're missing."
They heard the roar of the water long before the forest opened up to reveal the river and the old bridge that spanned it. Footfalls echoing eerily, they walked across the weathered planks that formed the deck of the bridge. Unconsciously, their pace slowed as they took in the broken railing; it was likely the spot where Dean had fallen, or been pushed, into the river.
Bobby frowned at the broken timber and the splinters that littered the bridge around the opening. Dean had hit that railing with some force. He moved closer to the opening, glancing over the edge. His frown deepened when he caught sight of a piece of blue fabric fluttering under the bridge.
"Here, hold this." He passed off the shotgun to Doc, dropped to his knees and leaned over the side to get a better look. "It's a coat," he said, reaching down to try and grab the jacket. "Could be one of the boys…."
Doc nodded. "I wonder……." She grabbed her cellphone from her pocket and hit re-dial. Seconds later they heard ringing coming from the jacket Bobby was trying to grab. He turned to look at Doc. "Yeah," she said, her stomach lurching at the implications of the discovery. "It's Sam's."
Bobby lay on his stomach to extend his reach. He grabbed hold of the coat and pulled. It was snagged on something and remained stuck until Bobby gave it a harder tug. He heard fabric rip but the jacket was now free. He pushed himself backward and grabbed the railing to steady himself as he stood up. "It's just a coat, Doc. It doesn't mean……"
As he turned to face Doc, his eyes widened. The angry face of a spirit loomed over her shoulder.
Doc caught Bobby's expression and knew exactly what it meant. "Oh God." She spun quickly, eyes widening at the translucent form of the spirit now standing right in front of her.
The woman was much taller than Doc, older too, her deep brown hair sprinkled with grey. Anger distorted her features and burned brightly in her dark eyes. But the spirit's glare was directed solely at Bobby. Before Doc could react, the spirit barreled forward, charging through her and right at Bobby.
Doc shuddered at the sensation of the spirit passing through her, then spun again, in time to see the specter grab Bobby by the throat and lift him, effortlessly, off the ground. He dropped Sam's coat as he struggled to free himself.
Doc clenched and unclenched the shotgun she was holding. If she shot the spirit from where she stood, she'd also blast Bobby full of rock salt. Quickly, she moved off to the side, turned and fired. Bobby was hit with some of the residual spray but the spirit took the full impact of the blast and dissipated instantly. Bobby fell to the ground, coughing.
Doc, heart pounding, knelt down beside Bobby, reaching out to check out his injured throat. He batted her hand away gently. "It's okay," he said, his voice a bit more gruff than usual. "You got her before she could do any damage." He smiled. "Thanks for that. You okay?"
Doc nodded. "Yeah. She ignored me completely. Can't say I like the feel of a spirit passing through me but no harm done."
She looked worriedly from Bobby to the broken bridge railing. "Looked to me like she planned on tossing you in the river. I think that confirms what we thought happened to Dean. But Sam? You think…I mean.. did he…."
Bobby shook his head. "Don't go there, Doc. There's a lot so far that doesn't add up. I'm not going with the worst possible outcome until I've got proof, one way or another."
Doc nodded, grateful for Bobby's confidence. Her brow furrowed as she pictured the ghost running at her. "She look like a jilted bride to you?"
Bobby accepted Doc's hand as he pushed himself slowly to his feet. Again, he shook his head. "Yet another plot hole in the local legend." He grabbed Sam's coat, then looked from the coat to Doc. "What say we get outta here before she comes back, do some research and figure out what the hell is going on."
xxxXXXxxx
Sam was aware he was shivering before anything else.
With difficulty, he forced his eyes open. His left remained swollen shut but the vision in his right seemed a bit clearer. Everything was still in soft focus but it was no longer one big blur.
His teeth were chattering as he looked around him. It was daylight again. He was lying on his stomach at the base of a tree. He frowned as he was able to make out the outline of his primitive shelter on the far side of the clearing and a blackened circle in front of it that had once been his fire. What the hell was he doing over here when his shelter was over there?
A burst of pain across his back brought the memory of the spirit's attack flooding back. The male spirit had thrown him across the clearing – right after he'd had a fireside chat with the young female spirit. And his still-pounding head was an ever-present reminder of the bridge spirit who had set this whole series of events in motion.
He groaned as he sat up, the groan morphing into a hiss of pain as he twisted his injured knee the wrong way. He shook his head. "Three spirits in one day. That's nuts even for us."
"Yeah, Sammy. Looks like you're the guest of honor at a frigging supernatural convention."
Sam startled at the sound. This time it wasn't in his head. He turned in the direction of the familiar voice, an incredulous smile breaking out across his face. Dean was standing at the side of the clearing, leaning against a tree. He had his favorite Colt 1911 in hand and trademark grin firmly in place
"Dean?" Sam couldn't believe it. Dean was OK. His brother had found him.
Sam smiled, really smiled, for the first time in more than a day, the realization that his brother had tracked him down against God knows what odds sending a surge of adrenaline through his weary body. He had no clue how Dean had managed to find him but, at this point, he didn't give a damn. Hell, he should be pissed. All this time spent worrying Dean might be hurt, or worse. "Dean, you jerk," he said softly, his smile refusing to leave his face. "You OK?"
"Nope"
"Huh?" Sam blinked rapidly then rubbed his eyes in yet another vain attempt to clear his vision.
."I'm way better than OK, little brother. I'm awesome."
Sam snorted as he used the tree behind him to haul himself to his feet, holding on tightly until the vertigo passed and shifting his weight solidly onto his good leg. "Quit screwin' around Dean.. Just…just…get me the hell out of here. I'm tired, I'm hungry, I can't see straight, my knee's screwed, I hurt in places I didn't know I had places and," his nose wrinkled as he caught a whiff of himself, "and I really need a shower. Not to mention you owe me the 4-1-1 on what the hell happened to you."
Dean's grin softened to a sympathetic smile. "You look like crap dude. You really do need to take better care of yourself."
Sam snorted. "Thank you Captain Obvious."
Sam stumbled, grabbing hold of a tree to avoid falling. Leaning heavily on the trunk, he held up his arm toward his brother. "Give me a hand, Dean. If I have to do this under my own steam, it might take us until Memorial Day."
Dean, who had moved instinctively toward Sam when he stumbled, arched his eyebrows apologetically. "Sorry dude. There's nothing I'd like better than to help you out but, um," he gestured to himself, "in case you haven't figured this out already, I'm not really here."
"What? Dean, I have never been so glad to see you in my life, but quit being a jackass and give me a hand." Sam used what little energy he had left to smack his brother across the shoulder. His hand passed right through Dean, causing Sam to overbalance. Only a last-minute grab for the tree beside his brother prevented a fall.
His eyes widened as realization hit like a punch to the gut. Dean wasn't really there. It was his brother's spirit because Dean was…was……
Sam's knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground. He slumped sideways, his cheek scraping against the rough bark of the tree, the shock of his realization sapping his little remaining strength. Icy fingers, reminiscent of the spirit's touch, reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart. His vision, blurry as it was, grayed further at the edges as he struggled to breathe.
He blinked slowly up at Dean, who hovered over him worriedly. Sam could barely find his voice. "Oh God, you're ….you're….
Dean did a double take when he realized what Sam was thinking.
"No, Sam. Listen to me." He knelt down so his face was level with his younger brother's. "I'm not a ghost, Sam. You hear me? I am not a ghost." His trademark grin returned under sparkling eyes and quirked eyebrows. "I'm just a damn fine figment of your imagination."
Sam let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "What? But why…"
Dean's grin widened. "Guess that somewhere in the super-sized yet slightly dented brain of yours you figured you could better handle whatever's goin' on here with a little help from big brother."
It suddenly clicked with Sam that while everything around him remained fuzzy and distorted, his brother was crystal clear. He saw the worry in his green eyes, punctuated by the furrow between his brows. He saw his left hand move to his right, not to the gun he held there but to twist the silver ring he wore on that hand. He saw him do the requisite visual inspection of Sam, checking for himself the extent of his brother's injuries. He saw him shake his head as he pushed off the tree and stood up, clicking the safety on his gun and lifting his jacket to stow it in the waistband of his jeans.
He saw all that in high-def Technicolor but, glancing down, his own hand remained a blur, even when held inches from his face. He blinked again, willing his vision back to normal, but everything except his brother continued to look like something out of an impressionist painting.
His eyes glistened as he fought to keep his emotions in check under his brother's concerned gaze, relief replacing the overwhelming fear. "Thank God….I mean…..It's just…, imaginary or not, it's good to see ya, man."
Sam wasn't sure what this imaginary manifestation of his brother said about his own mental health but, right now, he didn't care. Physical and emotional exhaustion had taken their toll and Sam's defenses had crumbled. Right now he'd take his brother in whatever form he could get.
But the realization the real Dean was still missing, possibly dead, and he was still alone, ate up what little strength he had left. Sam sagged against the tree at his back, his voice broken as he spoke to his imaginary brother. "I can't see, Dean….I can barely walk….I don't know where the hell I am….I don't know where you are…. "I'm…I'm scared, man. I don't know what to do."
Dean moved in quickly, crouching again beside his brother and resting a hand on Sam's shoulder reassuringly. The gesture registered with Sam but there was no sensation of touch.
"Come on, Sam." Dean's smile softened. "At 18, you got yourself cross-country to Stanford without any help from me or Dad – not to mention taking care of yourself all the time you were at school. Even managed to land yourself a very hot girlfriend. This…" he gestured to the forest around him, "this is just a walk in the park."
Sam snorted. "So not funny, Dean." He frowned as one dark possibility occurred to him. He leaned in closer to his brother. "Christo."
This time it was Dean's turn to startle. "Dude? What the…."
When nothing happened, Sam shrugged. "Just checking."
Dean wiggled his eyebrows as his grin returned. "That's my boy. Wouldn't have it any other way."
Dean's grin faded as he watched his brother, still on the ground where he'd fallen moments earlier, fighting to keep his eyes open. "Come on big guy, we need to get you outta here. Any idea which way is home?"
"Dude, come on." Sam opened his eyes long enough to fix an incredulous stare at his brother. "I'm lost. By definition, that means I don't know where I am, or what's here. I can barely walk, and then there's the little matter that I can't see."
Dean moved in quickly, staring worriedly at Sam's eyes. "How did that happen?"
"Don't know, man. Just woke up and everything was fuzzy. I keep hoping it'll just clear up but, so far, no luck."
Now it was Dean's turn to frown. "But you can see me, right?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, imaginary big brothers I can see perfectly. It's just reality I'm having a problem with."
Dean offered a tight smile. "And what's wrong with your leg?"
"My knee got screwed when I was attacked by Mary." Dean looked puzzled. "Oh, that's Spirit No. 2. She swung at me with a tree branch and I twisted my knee when I fell. I think it's sprained."
Dean clenched and unclenched his jaw. "She may be Spirit No. 2 on your roster, Sammy, but she just went to No. 1 on my salt and burn list."
Sam smiled. It didn't take much to bring out Dean's overprotective streak. "To be honest, Dean, I don't think Mary's the one we need to worry about. Her attack on me was more a case of mistaken identity. She thought I was Spirit No. 3 – a big dude with a bad attitude who threw me into a tree. Now he is definitely salt and burn material."
Sam saw Dean's jaw clench again. Sam winced as he shifted his weight, giving up on finding a comfortable way to sit but without the energy to try standing again. His brow furrowed as he stared at Dean. "So where are you? The real you I mean."
Dean frowned. "Have to say, that has me a bit worried, Sammy. I mean, I should be out here watching over your scrawny ass since it has a nasty habit of getting itself into big trouble. But I'm not, and that tells me I just may be ass-deep in trouble of my own."
Sam gave him a tired smile. "Yeah, that has me worried too. You got thrown off a bridge, dude."
The elder Winchester's eyes widened. "Off a bridge?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah, into the river."
"How the hell did that happen?"
Sam shrugged. "The way it usually happens. A pissed-off spirit, - uh, that would be Spirit No. 1 in today's playbill - and she tossed your ass overboard."
"She? Dean sat down suddenly, leaning back against a tree as he stared incredulously at Sam. "I let some spirit chick throw me in the river?"
Sam shared his discomfiture. "Worse. It was a grey-haired spirit chick."
Dean looked truly crestfallen. "An old lady ghost?"
Sam nodded.
"Damn it, Sam, you gotta have words with the real me when you get back. Me? Getting one-upped by Whistler's old lady? I mean, come on…..."
Sam sighed, unable to keep a tinge of guilt from his voice. "I was like 30 seconds behind you, man. The next thing I knew you went flying through the air ….. It all happened so fast. You were in the water before I could even get near you."
Dean's gaze softened as he saw the guilt ripping apart his already battered brother. "Uh-uh Sam, no way. Don't you dare make this your fault. Blame me for letting my guard down. Better yet, blame the damn ghost. But this is not your fault. You hear me?"
"Yeah, I hear you." With a determined effort, Sam hauled himself up, leaning heavily against the tree to maintain his balance. He looked over at Dean, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. "Besides, I didn't fare much better. About 10 seconds later, she tossed my ass here, in the middle of nowhere."
Dean looked worriedly at his brother as he too stood up. "Just hang in there, okay? Let's get you back to civilization, get Doc to check you out. Get everything back in working order. I mean, what's the use of having a hot doc for a friend if you can't get a little free medical care once in a while? "
Sam grinned at Dean. "I think I might just have to let Doc know you think she's hot."
Dean's smile brightened again. "Just an expression, Sammy. I'm not gonna horn in on your first crush."
Sam sighed. They'd been down this road before. "Dean, I did not have a crush on Doc. I was 12. And she was married. She was just really nice to a scared kid stuck in the hospital."
Dean's smile became a smirk. "What about at Stanford? You two hung out together there. You were both grown-ups, both available then…….you trying to tell me you never once thought of her as Demi to your Ashton?"
Sam shook his head. This imaginary version of Dean was as incorrigible as the real thing. "No. It wasn't like that and you know it. Some of us can be just friends with the opposite gender, you know."
Dean shot an incredulous look at Sam "Some of us. But, come on. I mean, it's like walking into a candy store and not sampling anything. It just flies in the face of all that is good and right with the world."
Now it was Sam's turn to look incredulous. "Oh I would just love to hear you say that in front of Doc, or any other woman for that matter."
Dean started to object then thought better of it. "Yeah, they'd pretty much make hamburger out of me, wouldn't they?"
Sam nodded. "Pretty much."
"What can I say, Sammy. I love women – almost as much as they love me."
Sam shook his head at his brother's playful grin. "Yeah, Dean – I think it's your modesty that wins them over."
Dean's grin widened. "Don't knock it, Sam. It works." He cleared his throat. "Ready to get outta here?"
Sam took an unsteady step forward. "As I'll ever be……"
"Good. Follow me."
Sam sighed in frustration at Dean's attempt to take command of their, his, situation. 'Um, while I appreciate the help, Dean, as you pointed out, I'm making you up. Since I don't know where I am, how exactly do you know where you're going?"
Dean shrugged. "I don't, but hey, I'm open to any better suggestions."
"Fine. Whatever, dude." Sam was way too tired to figure out the metaphysics of following his imaginary brother in a quest to find safety. He took a faltering step away from the tree he'd been using as support, waving his arm in Dean's direction. "Lead on, MacDuff."
Dean shook his head. "You're slipping, Sammy. If you're gonna quote MacBeth, at least get it right."
"Huh?"
Dean turned to face his brother, walking backwards across the clearing. "What Shakespeare wrote was 'Lay on, MacDuff,' which, come to think of it, sounds a whole lot more interesting. I wonder if….."
He stopped when he realized Sam was staring at him, eyebrows disappearing under his disheveled hair. "What?"
"Dude! You are so not my brother."
"That hurts, Sammy." Dean's words belied the grin on his face as he waggled his eyebrows at Sam and tapped the side of his head. "Hey, I may not be the walking encyclopedia in this family, but I think you left behind a few pages in here when you conjured me up."
Sam offered up a weary smile. "You're a smart guy, Dean, as well as a smart ass, it's just Shakespeare was never your thing. The only time you got into the Old Bard was a pub by that name in Boston, and that's only because you were trying to hook up with one of the waitresses there."
"Yeah." Dean smiled at the memory. "A comely wench. I sure liked her iambic pentameter."
Dean stopped walking when he realized Sam had done the same. The younger Winchester had barely made it across the clearing and he looked ready to collapse.
Dean wore his worried expression again. "Sammy?"
Sam shook his head, slumping against the tree beside him and sliding down it to the ground. "Give me a sec, dude." He looked up and met his brother's concerned gaze. "I, uh, just need to catch my breath, then I'll be good to go."
He rubbed his injured knee. "I think I need to splint my leg. That should help. Then we can keep going."
Dean nodded then frowned, pointing at Sam's shoes. "Dude, where's your shoelaces?"
Sam frowned, then laughed when he remembered. He gestured to the shelter he had built the previous night. "Holding that together."
Dean smiled softly, nodding in admiration. "Nice one MacGyver."
Sam shook his head. "Yeah, well thanks to the incredible hulking spirit, I didn't even get a chance to sleep in it."
Dean's eyes narrowed as he moved in closer to his brother. "You're shivering dude. You need to get warm."
"I'm OK, Dean. I just need to splint my leg then…."
Dean interrupted. "No, Sam. You need to get warm. Put those boy scout skills to work and start a fire. You can splint you leg, then, once you're rested and warmed up a bit, then we'll work on getting you out of here."
Sam shook his head. "No Dean. We need to keep moving. I need to find you, make sure you're okay, make sure…"
"Sam." Dean was getting angry now. "You push yourself now, you're gonna get about 50 feet from here and collapse and then what? Huh? Just take a minute to recharge your batteries."
"I….." Sam knew his brother was right, but that didn't make the further delay any easier to accept. "Fine, but just until I've splinted my leg. Then we get going."
Dean nodded. "That's all I'm asking, dude. Come on, get the campfire going. Then, while you take care of your leg, you can tell me about the spirits you've been chatting with. It'll be fun." Dean settled down on the ground next to the fire pit Sam had created. "All we're missing is cold pizza and warm beer."
Sam shook his head as he hauled himself to his feet and limped over to the small pile of firewood he had collected the previous day. He smiled at Dean. "Cold pizza and warm beer, huh? You're crazy, you know that?"
"Me crazy?" Dean grinned back at his brother before leaning back on his elbows and crossing his legs at the ankles. "I'm not the one talking to imaginary friends, Sammy."
To Be Continued……..
A/N: So, the boys are back together – sort of. I hope you enjoyed the banter. And look – no cliffie! To all of you reading this story, a great big thank you. And thanks so much for all your incredible feedback. I love to know what you think so, please, send more. Next chappie will be up later this week.