"Dean, something's pulling me into the wall!"
"What?? What does it look like?!"
Sam managed to grab onto the windowsill with his free hand, "I don't know! All I can see is its' hand, but I'm guessing it's not friendly!" The hand pulled harder, and Sam lost his momentary grip on the ledge. "Dean!" he shouted helplessly as the hand tugged harder.
Sam's feet didn't have much traction on the bloody floor, and he slipped. Seeming to sense his disadvantage, the thing dragged him into the wall up to his elbow. Sam screamed in agony.
It felt like his arm was on fire—like he was being burned alive.
Sam struggled fiercely to pull himself free of the wall and stop the pain. It was pure agony; a burning, twisting, excruciating pain that consumed everything but the desire to make it stop.
He scrambled to find his footing on the bloody floor and failed. There was nothing for him to hold onto, nothing to save him from being dragged into the wall.
He clamped his mouth shut to bite back a scream, knowing that it wouldn't do him any good. He was all alone, he couldn't get out and no one could get in to help him, not even Dean…
"Sam!" Dean yelled frantically for what felt like the hundredth time. "Sammy?! Answer me!"
"Dean." Sam choked out. Oh God—Dean! He didn't want Dean to witness this, powerless to help—he didn't want his brother to hear him scream… "Get out of here Dean!" he yelled.
"What?!" Dean said. "No, I'm not going anywhere! You can't get rid of me that easily."
"Please just go!" Sam gasped. "Go to the Impala and see if there's anything in Dad's journal about this—"
"No Sam! I'm not leaving you alone! What's going on?"
"Nothing! Nothing's going on!" Sam lied, struggling as the thing pulled him further into the wall. The pain was unbearable; he knew he couldn't take it much longer—
"You're a horrible liar Sam! Why are you lying to me? What did you mean when you said something was pulling you into the wall?"
"Please…" Sam choked out, "Dean, please go, I don't want you to hear."
"Hear what, Sammy? What are you talking about?!"
Sam didn't answer. He couldn't, the pain was too overpowering. He wanted to black out, to die—anything to make it stop. He screamed.
Dean froze, terrified, and his blood ran cold at the sound.
Footsteps suddenly came rushing up the wooden staircase at the end of the hall. Dean turned around and watched Mrs. Winters run toward him. "I just heard someone scream! What's going on?" she demanded.
Dean stared at her, eyes wide, his breathing panicked and uneven. "I—I—I don't know." he stammered. "Sam's trapped—something's wrong—I don't know what, he won't tell me! I can't get to him, I can't—I don't know what to do!" he finished breathlessly. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do!"
Mrs. Winters stared at him, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't know. I don't know what to do either! I'm so sorry!"
The lights in the hallway suddenly flickered and went out, leaving the whole area pitch black. Mrs. Winters whimpered and moved closer to Dean.
Dean stared into the darkness. "Who's there??" he shouted angrily. "Why are you doing this?! What the hell do you want??"
Someone laughed close to his ear and a woman's voice whispered, "I want a lot of things, Dean Winchester…"
Dean reached out, trying to touch whatever was there, but his hand passed through empty space.
Inside the room, Sam screamed again.
"What do you want, Dean?" the woman asked innocently.
"Let my brother go." Dean pleaded. "I'll do anything, just let him go."
"You think you can save him?" the voice said playfully, obviously amused, "Alright then. Go ahead and try. But you'll fail—they always fail." She laughed again, and then the lights turned back on. Dean's mouth dropped open in disbelief.
The door to Room 37 was back, right where it should have been all along. Unbelieving, Dean reached out his hand and grabbed the doorknob. Unlocked, it turned easily in his grip and he pushed the door open and stared inside.
In everything that he had been through over the years, he had never seen anything more terrifying than this. The room was a bloody mass of living, breathing tissue—and Sam was trapped, struggling and coated with blood, right in the middle of it, halfway in the wall. "Sam!" he shouted, and ran over to his brother. He grabbed Sam's free arm and forced him to look at him.
Sam stared at him in disbelief, pain visible on his face. "Dean? But—how?"
"I don't know, and it doesn't matter!" Dean said.
"Dean—it's pulling me into the wall!" Sam said, his voice breaking. "The wall—I can't take it anymore—it feels like I'm on fire!"
"Just hang on Sammy, okay? It'll be over soon." Dean said, trying to reassure himself as much as Sam. He pulled as hard as he could on Sam's arm to try to drag him back out of the wall.
Sam slipped another inch into the wall.
"It's too strong!" Sam said through clenched teeth. "Pull harder!"
"I'm trying!" Dean shouted. This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening.
"It hurts." Sam moaned brokenly.
"I'll get you out of this!" Dean said frantically. "We've been in worse situations before."
"I'm pretty sure this makes the top ten." Sam gasped. He looked up at his brother. "Dean?"
"What?" Dean grunted, still pulling with all his strength and not managing to have any success in getting Sam out.
"Thanks…for everything. You—you're the best older brother a guy could hope for…even if you are a major jerk sometimes."
Dean's breath caught in his throat. "God, Sammy, please don't talk like that." he pleaded. "You're going to be fine."
Sam slipped another inch into the wall. "Just remember that this wasn't your fault, okay Dean?"
"Damn it, Sam, don't you dare leave me like this!" Dean shouted angrily. He didn't know what to do. The thing that was pulling on Sam's other arm was obviously stronger than he was.
"I'm sorry." Sam whispered. Dean looked up at him and their eyes locked.
A second later Sam was wrenched out of Dean's grasp and disappeared into the wall.