A/N: For those of you following the saga of my novel—it is finished and in the mail and out of my hands now! Crossed fingers are much appreciated. And now that it is finished I will be calming my nerves with Fanfic, so more stories with nice fast updates! Thank you everyone for your patience with me these last months!

Ring Out Solstice Bells

Chapter Two

Bells, Doctors and the Sleeping King

The soft chiming of bells filled the air. The sound creeping through the night like fog, touching everything, leaving the physical brush of its touch, sound became tactile, as it caressed everything around it. The smell of wet, of decay, of death floated with the sound of the bells. Someone was singing softly, a chant in a language ancient, the single deep voice slowly joined by female voices, different somehow, without the deep echo of the first voice.

A scream shattered the almost tranquil scene.

Dean opened his eyes. The gray horse was pulling someone towards the bog. It had the man's arm gripped between its teeth. The horse dragged the man into the water, he was screaming as its jaws closed over him, Dean saw a spray of blood erupt from the man just as he was dragged beneath the surface of the black pond. Several minutes later the horse reappeared and dropped something on the flat stone by the bog. That would be the liver. How lovely is that? The horse looked over at him, Dean shut his eyes, blocking the look. The chanting grew louder. Dean heard movement, then a touch on his face, Dean opened his eyes and looked into the face of the man who had slit Sam's throat. The face was shifting like the fog.

The man said something, the words made no sense, but then Dean froze, while the words he heard made no sense they formed meaning in his brain. "He is better than we could have asked, thank you." And the man moved off. Dean heard the horses begin to leave, the hounds with them baying again. He was released, whatever held him was leaving as well.

"Sam." Dean rolled over and pushed himself up. Well as far up as I can manage. He crawled over to his brother. God, Sam. Dean reached a shaking hand out and checked for a pulse. "You're alive, Sam, good job."

Dean looked at Sam's arm, the flesh was torn where the horse had bitten down on it. The cut in Sam's throat wasn't deep, but it was seeping blood, there was a tiny mark, it looked almost like a burn, on Sam's forehead where the man had touched him. Dean checked his brother's chest, there was nothing there, even though Dean knew the man had drawn something. He did use a finger though, not sure what I was expecting to find. Come on, Sammy, time to get up.

As if on cue his brother groaned, coughing a little. "Dean?" Sam said. Well, at least that was probably what he meant to say, it came out as more of a grunt.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"You ok?" Sam opened his eyes.

"Yep," Dean said. "Let's get you back to the car and maybe have that arm looked at?"

"You can take care of it, Dean," Sam said as he allowed Dean to pull him to his feet.

"Sam…" Dean said, bracing himself for a fight. They were only a few feet from the car when Sam stumbled then fell against Dean. Ok, don't need to fight. Hospital time for Sammy. He dragged his brother the rest of the way to the car and dropped him in. Dean eased the car back onto the road. The fog has lifted a little more, I can almost see ten feet in front of me. Nice. I saw a hospital sign as we pulled in I think, where we turned right into town, left would have taken us to the hospital.

"Hang on, Sam, almost there," he said as his brother groaned.

"M…k," Sam said.

"You are not ok." Dean said. He noticed the hospital sign on the right hand side of the road. Five miles. He kept an eye on the fog line, the car was moving through patches of thicker mists as he drove down the dark road. The occasional street light cast ghostly beams through the mists, illuminating the area under it, making everything around seem darker, less visible.

Dean swung the Impala into the ER entrance of the small hospital. It looked more like a hotel than a medical facility, bright glass and chrome on the outside. Dean walked around the car and pulled his brother out, Sam stumbled beside him as he maneuvered them into the ER.

A pretty blonde woman in scrubs looked up as they came in. She frowned for an instant and then her face broke into a wide, excited and happy smile. She stood, walking over towards them. "This way," she said, leading them behind the doors into an exam room. Dean settled Sam on the bed.

She smiled at Dean and gently pushed him aside as she started an IV in Sam's arm. "How's your pain?" she asked.

"It's good," Sam said a little thickly.

She huffed a little. "On a scale of one to ten where is it?"

"Seven? Eight maybe?" Sam said, rolling his eyes over to Dean. Yeah, you weren't fooling me, Sammy, might as well be truthful with the nice nurse. She nodded and left.

Dean walked over to the bed. He leaned against it and watched the activity in the hall. The nurse had stopped a tall man and was talking to him, the wide excited smile on her face. They both glanced over at the room. Dean waved. They spoke a minute more and then the man nodded and the nurse stopped behind the desk to get something. Dean watched her a moment longer before something caught his eye, behind the desk on the wall under the clock was another of the small branches with gold-green leaves and white berries. What the hell? The "trouble" alarm in his head was starting to go off. We are in a hospital, that's all that's making me nervous, I hate these places.

The nurse came back in the room. "I have something to help with the pain before we take care of that arm," she said gently. She slid a syringe full of golden liquid into the port of the IV.

"No," Dean said, suddenly. It was too late, the plunger depressed. Sam turned to look at him with a frown on his face. "Sam?" Dean said, he heard a frantic note in his voice as his brother's eyes rolled up in his head and his eyelids drifted closed. "What did you give him?"

"Just pain meds, that's all," she said, looking at him. "That way I can take care of his arm."

"No."

"It's ok," his brother murmured. Dean looked down at Sam. The alarm in his head was still going off full blast.

"No." Dean took a step towards her, a large security guard suddenly appeared in the door.

"Why don't you wait while we take care of this?" the nurse said.

"No."

"Yes," the guard said, taking an arm in a giant hand. He pulled Dean out of the room, as he left he saw the nurse carefully snipping Sam's sleeve away from his arm. The guard deposited Dean in the waiting room and stood facing him, back to the doors that led into emergency. Dean sighed.You hurt Sam and you're all dead. A large Christmas tree was in the corner of the waiting room, the tree was decorated with bright glass bulbs and chains of cranberries and silver beads. Dean walked over to look at it, a wreath with the gold branches hung on the wall behind it, tiny silver bells were framed in the center of the wreath and amongst the bells a tiny curved knife.

I need to get to Sam. I have to find a way back there. He looked around, the mammoth guard was still blocking the doors to the ER. Ok, plan B.Dean walked over towards the guard, he saw the man tense as he approached. See how friendly I am, just want to chat. Dean grinned at the man. "Sorry about that," he said conversationally. "It's my kid brother." He shrugged. "Is there someplace to get a cup of coffee? I'm dying."

The guard looked at him for a minute, then seemed to give in. He smiled at Dean. "Sure, through those doors, follow the green line on the floor."

Dean glanced over at the doors he'd indicated, they led away from the ER. Still it's a start. "Thanks." He wandered through the doors, trying to look casual. Not repressing an urge to run at all. You hurt Sammy and you're all dead. When he was on the other side of the doors he looked down at the floor. Green, red, blue and a faint shimmering line, hardly a color just a brighter reflection on the tiles, were painted on the floor. Red could mean emergency. He started following the red line. The green and blue lines broke off at the next junction of the hallway, the red and the shimmering ones continued on. Dean went a little further. In the middle of the hallway the shimmering line broke off. He looked down a short corridor with a single door at the end. What the hell?

Dean followed the shimmering line down the short hallway and stopped in front of the door. Another of the wreaths with the bells and the tiny curved knife hung on the door. Checking to make sure he was alone in the corridor, Dean slipped into the room. Not to repeat myself, but what the hell? There was a bed in the center of the room, the room was decorated in rich tones, a thick rug on the floor, heavy velvet drapes on the windows. A large table stood against one wall, it was covered with candles and bowls, Dean walked over towards it. Yep, altar. He finally turned to the bed. The figure lying there was alive, the chest rising and falling with even breaths. There was an IV and something else. Feeding tube?

Dean got closer to the bed, the man looked vaguely familiar. A faint scar marked the man's neck. Dean pulled the silken blanket down and gently tugged the velvet robe away from the man's chest, an intricate pattern was drawn there, black against the pale skin, looking like a tattoo. He looked back at the man's face, trying to place it, then, in sudden recognition he gasped, the sound loud in the quiet room. The man who slit Sam's throat, I think this is him.

"Who are you?" a female voice said from behind him. Dean turned, an older woman, maybe sixty-five stood in the doorway. "What are you doing here?" She took a step towards him. "He only has two days left, can't you leave him in peace?"

"What?" Dean said.

She had stopped and was looking at him, an intense searching look. "You aren't one of them, are you?"

"One of who?"

"What's your name?"

"Dean," he said. "One of who?"

"Dean," she smiled. "My name is Vivian. Sorry, it's been a long time." Her eyes had filled with tears. "Not much longer, though, solstice is in two days." She sank down in a plush chair beside the bed. "Finally he can rest," she said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

She smiled sadly. "The year is over. It's been a long year. I haven't left him, though. I kept hoping they would relax the vigilance so I could let him go, free him, you know, but every time I tried they stopped me. At one point they wouldn't let me in here, that's when I promised, you know, to stop trying." The tears were running down her face, sparkling in the candlelit room like jewels. "They took them both, both my sons."

"I'm sorry," Dean said, moved by the sadness on Vivian's face. "Can you tell me more?"

She looked at him again. "You'll believe me, won't you? I tried to call the state police and they said I was crazy, the doctor here told them my son had been in an accident and was just in a coma and it was grief driving me a little nuts."

"I'll believe." He said, squatting down so he was on her level.

"We came last year for vacation. We stayed at the hotel at the other end of town. They were having a special, you know." She looked over at Dean. Yeah, I know, a too good to be true kind of special? Spa room for the price of the crappy downstairs room? Credit at the restaurant? "The second night we were here, both boys disappeared. I found Kevin the next morning, he was disoriented and bleeding, Eric was gone. I brought Kevin here to the hospital, he disappeared from here the next night, they 'found' him the next day out by that horrible pond. He was like this, he's never changed, this whole long year. He's dead, his soul gone, just the body is alive, but not for long now, on solstice he gets to rest." She said the last with a soft sigh, grief-filled but relieved as well. "Why are you here?" she said again.

"I followed the yellow-brick road," he said with a small smile. "My brother is in the ER and I was trying to get back to him."

"Was he…is he…?" she looked at him with fear in her eyes. He knew it was for him, for Sam.

Dean swallowed. "Yeah, I think so."

XXX

The nurse was carefully snipping the bandage from his arm. Gently tugging the fabric from torn flesh. Sam was, fascinated by the process. That would be the drugs, no doubt. His mind was drifting like the fog outside. Fear curling around him like the mists. From the moment the horse had stopped beside the Impala, its ancient dead eyes meeting his, he had known it was over, too late to save himself. The brief research in the hotel room had confirmed his suspicions. Then those moments at the bog, the each uisge dragging him into the water, the flash of pain as it bit his arm, as it tore at his side. Then there was silence, long moments of silence, broken finally by the ringing of bells and the voice, deep, ancient, telling him what was to come. He had hoped, when the silver sickle had appeared, it meant the end.

But, no, it was only the beginning.

"What did you give me?" he asked through the shifting mist.

"Just something to help with the pain," the nurse said.

Sam looked over at her. "No there's something more, I think." She smiled at him and walked to the cupboard, she pulled a large jar off of one of the shelves and smeared a thick sweet scented paste on his arm. She put another smear on his neck. Whatever it was numbed the wounds. Sam watched as she bandaged his arms, then closed his eyes as she carefully wrapped gauze around his neck. I wonder where Dean is?She finished and gently patted his chest. He opened his eyes. "Where's my brother?"

She smiled at him again, then turned as a tall man came in the room. Even though the man was in scrubs, obviously a doctor, he seemed to defer to the woman. "The brother found Him," the man said.

"Tonight," she said softly. "He will feed Them tonight."

They're talking about Dean. "No," Sam said. They turned to look at him. "Please."

"Sorry," she said, walking back to him and gently stroking his hair. "Yes."

"No. Please." What can I do?

"It's ok, he won't suffer for long," she said in a soothing voice. "We'll keep you here until just before the ritual. You'll be safe and warm."

No, I have to get out of here, I have to help Dean somehow. He was hazy, the pain meds keeping a curtain between him and reality. "No," he said, desperately casting around for something to use to save Dean. A stray thought, something from his research, drifted into his mind. He looked at her, met her eyes. "My brother, you can't take him."

"We have to, honey," she said, still stroking his hair.

"No. If you agree to leave him alone, let him live…" Sam took a deep breath. This is going to happen one way or the other, maybe this way, at least, I can save Dean. "Let him live and I will participate willingly. I will come to the ritual, I will go when the time is here. Everything, willingly."

She stopped stroking his hair and looked at him, her hand still resting gently on his head. "You know what's happening?"

"Yes," he said. "I know. I understand what it means." It means in two days I'm dead.

"It's an honor, being chosen. When he saw you, we knew. It's not like death, it's better."

Better than death, fun. "And I want to be able to leave here. I'll come to the ritual, but I want to spend my last days with my brother."

"It is as it was once," the tall man said. "All of it. Willing to come, time with the family. It is as it was, the ritual will be complete." He cleared his throat. "My lady."

She looked at him for a long moment, Sam watched as the man blushed, then she nodded. "Yes, yes. The first time in a century." She turned back to Sam, searching his eyes. "Everything, willingly? What comes tonight, the preparation, everything?"

Sam swallowed. "Everything."

"Including this?" She held up another syringe, this one was full of shimmering silvery liquid.

High tech, it used to be drink out of the cup, now it's in the arm. Advances, nice. Sam nodded. "Yes, everything."

"The brother lives, find someone else for tonight," she said to the tall man. "Bring his brother back here so they can go."

"We have a deal?" Sam said.

"We have a deal." She bent forward and gently kissed him on the mouth. "It is sealed."

"Yes," Sam said. She twisted the syringe on the IV and slowly, very slowly, depressed the plunger. Sam watched as the first silvery drops of his death ran out of the syringe and into his arm.He let his eyes close as the liquid burned through his veins, he felt his breathing alter a tiny bit, felt the cold fog slip around him, already pulling him to someplace else. He felt her pull the IV from his arm, heard her step away. He drifted in the mists, flitting between worlds, unknown words filling his head.

A hand dropped on his shoulder. "Hey, you ready to get out of here?" Dean said.

"Yeah," he opened his eyes. "What is it?" There was something a little odd in his brother's eyes.

"Nothing," Dean said with a forced smile. "Let's go, ok?"

Sam swung his legs off the bed and stood, swaying a little. Dean put a hand out to steady him. "I'm ok."

"Yeah, you're just hungry."

"Probably," Sam said, going along with the farce.

The woman came back into the room with a small paper bag in her hands. "Here is the antibiotic. You need to take half of one bottle this afternoon and then the rest about ten tonight. Then the same tomorrow."

"Thanks." Sam took the bag from her. He felt Dean's eyes on him. He knew his hands were shaking, he hoped his brother would think it was a reaction to the wounds, the colds what had happened in the night.

It was bright, sunny and cold when they walked out of the hospital toward the Impala. A raven croaked from somewhere to Sam's left, he could hear the calls of crows echoing in the shining morning light, and somewhere beneath it all, the sound of bells, of horses and singing and the baying of hounds. He looked at Dean wondering if his brother could hear it. Dean smiled at him as they reached the car.

Sam dropped into the Impala and stowed the "medicine" under the seat. I wonder how it will affect me? Will Dean notice? Should I tell him?

"Sammy?" Dean said softly, concerned.

"Yeah?" Sam said, looking over at him.

"I...uh…" Dean looked away, out the window. "Breakfast?"

"Sure." What is it, Dean? You ever think if we talked a little more we might avoid disaster more often? No? Sam leaned his head back, letting the sun warm his face. I don't think there will be much sun for me in a couple of days. He rolled his head a little to the side to watch Dean. His brother was focused on the road, his jaw clenched, the hands on the wheel white-knuckled.

"It's ok, Dean," he whispered. Sam let his eyes close, listening to the call of the bells and the howling of the beasts. I wonder what happens tonight? I don't think I die tonight, that's tomorrow, but what happens tonight? And the bells chimed gently and a song started, singing softly, a deep voice calling him away.

To Be Continued