Going in Circles

Thanks for all the reviews. I think the messaging system might be on the blink again though, so I'll say here that a gold star goes to those who recognized Tom Baker's name. He was the Doctor!

Chapter Three

Dean woke suddenly, his vision clearing. He sat up hurriedly and fumbled in his pocket for the flashlight he'd put there earlier. The small beam of light fell on Sam who was lying unmoving several feet from him.

"Sam?"

It only took a second for Dean to realize that when he'd fallen, he had fallen outside the crop circle. The weight he'd felt pressing down on him must have stopped when he left it and he'd started breathing again. Sam, however, hadn't been so lucky. Every word, every promise to keep him safe roared to life in Dean's ears, accompanied by the gut-wrenching fear of not knowing how long he'd been passed out himself.

Struggling to his knees, Dean crawled forward toward his brother. As soon as he was within the circle, the pressure immediately returned and he felt the air being crushed out of his chest. He grabbed one of Sam's out-flung arms and desperately pulled, dragging him toward the circle's edge.

Just as Dean was sure that his lungs would burst, he pulled Sam across the threshold. Sam gasped like a swimmer coming up for air. Dean thought it was one of the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard as he collapsed to the ground beside his brother, his lungs burning.

"Sam, you ok?" Dean gasped out. When there wasn't a response, he struggled to his knees once again. "Sammy?" he demanded, smacking him lightly.

"Don't hit me," Sam mumbled, still not opening his eyes. "Trying to breathe."

Dean sat back on his heels, his head bowed in a silent prayer until a second later when another thought struck him. The UFO guy. Dean whirled, shining his flashlight around the circle until the beam of light fell on the man's deathly still form.

"Sam, we gotta get him out of the circle. He's not breathing," Dean said, urgently pushing himself up off the ground.

Sam too lurched to his feet and together they hurried around the outside perimeter of the circle until they were at the point closest to where the man was lying. He had fallen with his feet facing out, his head nearly in the middle of the circle.

"We're going to have to be fast or we'll all be done for. The pressure, or whatever it is, it's getting worse," Dean said, remembering the few seconds it had taken to pull Sam to safety. "We'll have to do it together. You ready?"

Sam nodded, though Dean worriedly noted that he still seemed a bit unsteady on his feet. They both took a deep breath and plunged into the circle, the weight of the unseen force nearly bringing them to their knees. Feeling like they were moving in slow motion, they desperately grabbed Tom by his ankles and pulled him back toward the edge.

Whatever was inside the circle apparently didn't care to lose its final victim. The pressure increased, bearing down on them until Sam's knees buckled. Dean continued to struggle the last few inches, knowing he would not be able to breathe until he got there. And if he couldn't breathe, he couldn't help Sam.

The second he broke through the invisible barrier, the pressure was gone and his lungs were free to inflate again, but he didn't dare pause to enjoy the sensation. Feeling light-headed, he dropped Tom's foot and spun to hold out a hand to Sam.

Sam was bent over on all fours, blinking, his eyes beginning to glaze.

"Sam!" Dean barked, trying to get his attention. He half-stepped inside the circle again, the almost unbearable weight crushing in its intensity. Sam must have heard him, struggling to hold out his hand. Dean grasped it, then using all his weight, he jerked him forward and out of the circle. At some point his brother had apparently gained a hundred pounds and Dean grunted, feeling almost like he'd pulled his shoulder out of its socket. Releasing Sam, he stumbled back outside the circle himself. His chest heaving from exertion, Dean picked up Tom's foot again and dragged him the rest of the way out.

Dean could hear Sam's gasping breaths above the sound of his own, but their newest companion didn't start breathing again.

Dean knelt beside him and smacked him, hard, across the face. "Tom, you gotta breathe for me, buddy. There's a Star Trek convention with your name on it somewhere." He smacked him again. "Come on, man. It just won't be the same without their favorite Klingon." Dean leaned over him and rubbed his knuckles hard into the man's sternum.

Tom came to with a gasp, dragging in great gulps of air. He took one look at Dean and then promptly passed out again.

"I'm going to try not to take that personally," Dean frowned and sat back heavily. At least the guy was still breathing.

"So I think it's safe to say that it's a malevolent spirit," Sam said. He sat up, holding his hand to his chest as if his ribs were sore. Dean's own were bruised, feeling like he'd been squeezed in a vise.

"Two points to Mr. Obvious," Dean rolled his eyes. "Question is why?"

"More pressing question is what are we going to do with this guy?" Sam nodded toward the unconscious ufologist. "There's no way we'll be able to keep him away from here."

"I've got an idea," Dean said and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He pushed a few buttons and then sat back, grinning. "Hello? Yes, I'd like to report that the man you arrested earlier for trespassing is back in my field. Yes, in the same place. His car is parked by the road and I've found him here just inside the field. He's passed out though. I think maybe he's drunk or something." He paused for several seconds, listening. "Yes, thank you," he finally said and then closed his phone.

"Dean, that was…"

"Brilliant?"

"I was going to say cruel."

"Hey, we need him out of the way. They'll see if he needs any medical attention too. Everybody wins." Dean got to his feet again. The guy was not his concern. Stopping anyone else from stumbling into the circle was. "Now help me haul Mr. Sci-Fi up to the road. We don't want any cops wandering out here."

Between the two of them, they dragged the man back around the circle and up toward the road. As they reached the edge of the field, they dropped their load and Dean realized that there was another car parked behind theirs.

"That was fast. Looks like the cavalry's already here."

Sam frowned. "I'm not sure that's…"

"Don't move!"

Dean heard the very unmistakable sound of a shotgun being racked. That particular sound was on his personal top ten list of things he didn't like to hear when it wasn't him making it. Sam stilled beside him and neither of them moved a muscle.

"What are you doing out here?" the man said angrily. "We told you people to stay out of our field!"

"We just came out here to try and talk our friend into leaving," Sam said, still remaining perfectly still. "We didn't want him to get arrested again."

"What's wrong with him?" the man with the shotgun demanded, sounding less than placated.

"He fell, got the wind knocked out of him," Dean said, which was sort of true he supposed. "We were just carrying him to the car so we could leave."

"What were you doing out here?" the man repeated, and this time Dean caught just the tiniest hint of worry in his voice. Interesting.

"Can we turn around?" he asked. "We're not going to cause any trouble." Sam wasn't armed and unless the situation went sour, well… sourer, he really didn't want to antagonize the guy. They were going to have to get back into the field sometime and causing trouble now would only make it harder later.

"Fine. Turn around. Slow."

In the dim light of his flashlight, Sam and Dean both turned around to see a man aiming a 12 gauge in their direction.

"We haven't been properly introduced," Dean said calmly. "I'm Dean, this is Sam. The guy on the ground is Tom."

"And you are?" Sam prompted when the man remained silent.

"Simon Winters," he grunted and Dean remembered seeing him earlier with his father. He looked to be in his early 30s, maybe a little more uptown than his father. Probably wore Dockers on weekends instead of jeans.

"What were you doing out here?" the man asked yet again.

"What do you think we were doing?" Dean cocked his head to one side. Something was suddenly setting of all his alarm bells. He changed position slightly, reassuring himself with the feel of the gun tucked at his back.

"Your friend asked us for core samples and we told him no. If you were digging…"

Sam and Dean shared a look. Sam's brow was furrowed, and he shifted uneasily. "No… No digging…" Although Dean now had a pretty good idea of what they should be doing come sunrise. He also mentally reminded himself to have a talk with Sam about all his frowning. His face was going to stick like that.

They all turned hearing a car pull up and this time, Dean could see the light bar on top of a police cruiser. Simon immediately let his shotgun drop as the officer turned slightly so that the car's headlights shone into the field illuminating their small group. Simon waved to the officer, who quickly stepped from the car and strode toward them.

"Winters?" the deputy said as he approached. "You having trouble with these people again?"

"No," Simon answered quickly. "Though it was good of you to come out, Jake. We were just trying to get this fellow to his car and his friends here were going to drive him back to his hotel." The look on his face dared Sam and Dean to argue. For some reason, Winters wanted the cop gone. That was not a reassuring thought.

"What's wrong with him?" the deputy frowned. He looked to be about the same age as the farmer.

"He'll be fine," Dean said, "just need to get him back to his room so he can sleep it off." And get him away from the guy with the shotgun, Dean silently added.

The deputy nodded, looking down at the man still on the ground. He didn't seem overly concerned and Dean knew that a passed out drunk was nothing new to him. "This the guy checking out the crop circles?" he asked.

"Yes," Simon answered tightly, though the deputy didn't seem to hear the warning in the man's voice.

"Haven't been out here to see them myself," the deputy said, stepping farther into the field. "Kinda weird this circle popping up where the old silo was, isn't it?"

"Weird," Simon said, and this time the officer did hear the change in the man's tone.

"You ok?"

"Just fine, Jake," he answered, though he appeared tense as a bow string. Dean saw him tighten his grip on the shotgun.

"I'm sorry, Winters," the deputy said suddenly. "This is where you had your accident isn't it? I forgot that's why your dad took that silo down."

"It's ok," Simon said, though his expression was almost panicked now. "That was a long time ago."

"When was that? We must've been… seniors that year?"

Simon nodded mutely.

"Right," the officer said, as if suddenly remembering. "That was the summer that Joe disappeared."

Several things happened simultaneously. Simon grabbed his shotgun like a club and bashed the unsuspecting deputy in the back of the head. Dean drew his gun from the waistband of his jeans and leveled it at Simon. Finally, the headlights on the police car flickered several times and then died.

Dean clicked his flashlight back on and aimed it at Simon along with the gun. "Don't move."

A sound to his left drew his attention, but he didn't look away from Simon who was staring down at the unconscious deputy. "What is it, Sam?"

"Tom's awake," he answered, but Dean could tell something was wrong. He heard the man get to his feet.

"Tom?" Dean dared a quick glance, but once he took one look at him he couldn't look away.

Tom was staring at Simon, his face a mask of hatred and sorrow. His eyes were glowing. That was never a good sign.

Tom took a step toward Simon who began backing away. "Finally, come back to see your old friend, have you, Si?"

Typing madly… Hope to have more up tomorrow.