A/N: Wow! I thought I'd never get my computer fixed enough to get this out! Dumb computers! But anyway, here it is. A special thanks to everyone who has continued to read. And I've loved the reviews! Thanks!

Chapter 7:

He woke up coughing. When had he passed out? He couldn't remember. All he knew now was that he was inhaling thick smoke, and he could feel the heat of the fire. He opened his eyes, focused and saw that the walls around them were beginning to burn. His body ached, and when he tried to shift himself up to a sitting position he was painfully reminded he had a broken arm. But he struggled, and managed. That's when he heard the soft voice. His head whipped to the side and he found his brother.

Somehow, when Sam had passed out, or was knocked out actually, he fell outside the protective circle. "Of course." Dean muttered. But that wasn't what bothered him. The woman kneeling over Sam, whispering words and touching him is what bothered him. And it sure didn't help the fact that the woman looked just like Jessica. And as she stroked Sam's face and talked, Sam who was wide awake now, was making no move to do anything about it. Dean looked around and found his discarded shot gun. He began to crawl over to it. The smoke was now thicker and the flames were really beginning to take over everything. He was sure it wouldn't be long before the house collapsed around them. As he moved he caught some of what the witch was saying to Sam.

"Just reverse it Sam, reverse it and we can be together forever."

Dean reached his gun and pulled himself off the floor. "Get away from him bitch." he growled.

The witch jerked her head up, glaring at Dean. As he stared at her he could see her fade in and out. It is working he thought. "Give it up sweetheart, you're dying. For good this time."

"You haven't won. We can still take him with us." she said, and placed her hands on Sam's chest. To prove her point a light eminated from her hands and Sam writhed up in agony, a silent scream leaving his mouth.

Dean didn't hesitate any longer. He raised the shotgun with one arm and fired. The kick sent him stumbling back, but he caught his footing quickly. The witch was almost faded out, so Dean fired one more shot just for good measure. When she had completely disappeared Dean ran to Sam. He dropped to his knees next to his brother.

"Sam! Sammy, are you okay?"

Sam blinked his eyes lazily a few times. His hands lifted and settled on his chest, rubbing lightly. "Damn, that hurt." he rasped out.

Dean let out a laugh of relief. "We gotta go man. The place is about to burn down around us."

Sam began to get himself up, with the help of Dean's good arm. "It's not real Dean." Sam said, even as he coughed from the smoke.

"It sure as hell feels real Sammy. Now let's move." Dean ordered.

They began to stagger to the stairway, looking like a couple of drunks swaying and bumping into walls as they walked. "I thought you said this spell would kill them." Dean said.

"It will. I guess it just takes a little while." Sam responded.

"You didn't feel the need to share that information Sam?"

"Hey, I don't know everything." Sam protested.

"Says the college boy." Dean quipped. They reached the top of the stairs. Dean shook his head. With the way Sam was swaying and staggering he hoped they made it down. Just as he was about to say something he heard a whoosh sound behind him. He turned to look and was knocked off balance by a large mirror that brushed his broken arm. He yelped in pain. As he began to fall, he felt Sam loose his balance also. Dean reached out quickly with his good arm and grabbed Sam just before he tumbled down the stairs, throwing them both back down onto the floor.

They lay there, both panting, trying to catch their breath, but not being able to due to the smoke. "We gotta move or we aren't making it out of here." Dean said.

"No kidding." Sam said and began coughing again. Dean looked at Sam and immediately noticed the blood trickling down his neck. Before getting them up he took Sam's chin and looked at his eyes. The pupils were both uneven.

"Great, you have a concussion."

"I could have told you that." Sam said, his words a little slow. He began to try and get up, but his balance was now completely gone and his vision was beyond blurry.

Dean stood and heaved him up. "Damn it Sam, work with me here. My arm's broken. I can't carry you out man."

"I'm trying." Sam whined.

When they stood, Sam swayed and pushed against Dean, knocking them into a wall, and into flames. Dean screamed when he felt his pant leg catch the flame. He let go of Sam for a split second to pat the flame out. When he reached for Sam he saw that the back of his jacket had caught fire.

"Sam!" He pulled Sam away from the wall and shoved his jacket off. With his good arm he grabbed Sam around the waist. "Time to go." Sam slung an arm around Dean's neck and let him begin to guide him down the stairs. His mind was swimming and his legs just did not want to cooperate. But he was determined not to fall.

Dean felt like it was taking hours to maneuver down the stairs. But as much as his adrenaline was pumping and as much as he knew they needed to pick up the pace, there was no way his brother could move any faster. And since Dean couldn't carry him, they had to move slow. Halfway down, Dean could feel the flames licking at their backs. Suddenly the bannister next to them lit up and Dean flung them to the opposite side of the stairs, hugging the wall. Sweat was dripping into his eyes, and no matter how hard he tried, there was no way to get a decent lung full of air.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity on the stairs, they reached the bottom. The front door was in sight. Amazingly the chair was still holding it open. "Almost there Sammy." Dean encouraged.

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but felt a sudden pain in his head and before he could get the words out, darkness over took him. His body sagged against his brother.

Dean was taken off guard by Sam's sudden weight, falling to the side himself. They both landed roughly on the floor. "Sam!" Dean shouted, hovering over his unconscious brother. "Sam wake up!" Dean slapped Sam's cheek lightly, eliciting no response. "Damn!" he cursed.

Having no other choice, Dean dropped his shot gun and stood. He then bent back over, and using his good arm, he grabbed a hold of the back collar of Sam's shirt and began to drag him to the door. Even when they were in a dire situation, Dean couldn't miss an opportunity to make a sarcastic remark. "Damn Sammy, I thought health food nuts were supposed to be light. You way a ton." Of course, he didn't get the usual response back from his brother. "We're almost there little brother. Just a little more."

And that's when he heard it, the unmistakable sound of the front door slamming. He dropped his hold on Sam and spun around. The entire down stairs was burning now, and the cloud of smoke was thick, but he could still see her. And this time this witch didn't pass herself off as anyone.

"You stupid little boy. You've destroyed my sisters, do you really think that before I join them I'm going to let you out of here?"

Dean's eyes skirted back and forth, but his gun was no where in sight. Of course not, it was behind them where he dropped it so he could drag his brother. Now what? he thought. He looked at the witch again. She was fading in and out just as bad as the other one did, but for some reason Dean could feel her power. She was stronger than the other ones.

Slowly Dean began to reach into his pocket, trying to get to the last vial of salt he had. But just as his hand moved, so did the witch's. With a sudden force, he was thrown backwards, landing far from the door, and Sam.

"I am going to enjoy watching you burn. But first, you're going to watch your brother burn, just like I did my sisters." The witch said, now standing over him.

Dean's eyes flew to Sam and saw the flames nearing his brother. "No way bitch!" And with strength he thought had left him, he flew to his feet surprising both himself and the witch. He managed the vial out of his pocket, and before she knew what hit her, the witch was doused. She screamed. The sound echoing and piercing his ears. The house around them shuddered and groaned, the roof making noises as if warning of it's impending implosion.

Dean didn't hesitate. He pushed past his pain and haze, ignored the smoke burning his throat and lungs, ignored the flames dancing around him and made his way to Sam. The flames had made their way to Sam's legs, but Dean didn't stop to think. He ripped off his jacket, yelling in pain when he moved his broken arm, but pushing on. He slapped Sam's legs with his jacket, dousing the flames. The house shuddered again, and as Dean looked up he could see the roof was about to give. He grabbed Sam's collar again, and with a scream of frustration and fear, he pulled.

The house was falling down around them, the front windows shattering from the heat, sending glass flying his way. He felt pieces of the ceiling above them fall around him. He felt flames dance out and touch him. But he ignored it all. He ignored the heaving of his chest, the sweat pouring down his face, and with all of his might, pulled his brother to the front door. He grabbed the handled, turned it, and yanked the door open. But he didn't even stop to take a breath of the fresh air, he simply kept pulling on Sam. They needed to get away from the house, and he wasn't going to stop until they made it to the car. Even when he reached the steps of the front porch, he kept going. Stumbling and dragging his brother, whispering apologies as Sam's legs thumped each wooden step. He made it to the middle of the front yard. His precious Impala was just within reach. They were going to make it. Dean felt a glimmer of hope. Until his vision suddenly blurred and the last thing he saw was the ground coming up to meet his face.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNS

Sirens. Loud, urgent voices, cars. The sounds invaded his ears. His eyes fluttered.

"That's it, come on open your eyes." A voice encouraged him. A voice that definitely was not Sam's.

His eyes shot open, and at the same time he tried to sit up. But hands grabbed his shoulders, gently but firmly. "Easy. You're going to be okay." The hands shoved him back flat. "I'm a paramedic. We're getting ready to take you to the hospital. Can you tell me your name?"

Dean let his gaze wander to the man. Yep, he was in a medics uniform. His eyes wandered around, taking in what he could see. There was a police car off to the right, and a fire truck, and fireman putting out what was left of the house.

"Sir? Can you tell me your name?" The paramedic asked again.

"Dean." His voice sounded like sand paper.

"Okay Dean, everything's going to be fine."

"My brother." Dean rasped out.

"Brother?" The medic questioned. "The other guy with you is your brother?" Dean nodded. "He's already on his way to the hospital. We're about to join him there, okay? You just relax." And with that he placed an oxygen mask over Dean's face.

Dean did as he was told and laid his head back. He could take a moment to indulge and rest, knowing that Sam was already being taken care of. That his little brother wasn't dead. Everything else he could worry about later. He let his eyes drift close.

The next time Dean opened his eyes, he knew exactly where he was. The sounds and smell were unmistakable. He always did hate hospitals. He took a moment to take stock of himself. He was hooked up to a heart monitor and an oxygen mask. His left arm was in a cast, and his body felt beat to hell. But he was only in a small amount of pain, so he figured the IV in his hand must be doing it's job. The next thought he had; Sammy. He was about to start ripping the machinery off of him when he heard someone clear their throat. He looked up to see a woman walking towards his bed.

As she came up to stand next to him she gave him a warm smile. "I'm Mrs. Mitchell." She stated. When Dean gave her a clueless look she continued, "the owner of the house you and your brother Sam were investigating."

Dean ripped the oxygen mask off. "Excuse me?" he said, his voice extremely scratchy.

"It's okay." She said soothing, placing a hand on his arm. "Sam told me what you two were doing. I came to thank you for trying to help. And to see if there was anything I could do for you boys."

Dean was a little shocked. "Uh...we'll be okay. I just need to see my brother."

Mrs. Mitchell nodded. "All right then. I just wanted to say thank you. May I ask a question?"

Dean nodded. "Sure."

"Did it work? I mean, did you get rid of whatever was there?" She asked with a very expectant tone to her voice.

"Yeah. What was there is gone now."

She smiled. "Thank you. And please, if you need anything, let me know. My family owes you boys."

She started to walk away, but Dean suddenly thought of something. "Uh...actually. I know the cops are going to want to know what happened and why we were there. What exactly are you gonna tell them?"

Mrs Mitchell smiled brightly, "After talking with your brother the other day, I figured you boys weren't all that public about what you do. So when the police asked me earlier tonight what you were doing there, I told them you were contractors that I was having give an estimate for repairs. They won't be bothering you."

Once again Dean was shocked. It wasn't often that someone showed them so much kindness. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. I'll let the nurse know you're awake on my way out." She gave Dean one last sweet smile and left the room.

Dean sighed with relief. But he still needed to find out how Sam was. He was about to make a break out the bed when the doctor came through the door.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to see my brother." Dean said.

The doctor walked up to Dean and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm Doctor White. How about you and me talk first."

Dean had a sudden knot in his stomach. "What's wrong? How is Sam?"

"Mr. Phillips," the doctor stated. He had obviously got his name from the current drivers license Dean was using. "Please, let's go over your condition, and then I will go over your brother's, okay?"

Dean was getting frustrated. But he knew that it was better to cooperate then to fight. After all, the doc here had the power to sedate him, and he didn't want that. Dean nodded, "Okay."

Doctor White smiled. "I have to say, both of you boys were very lucky. You Mr. Phillips have a broken arm, a cracked rib, smoke inhalation, your body looks like it was someone's personal punching bag, and a slight concussion. After a some rest, you'll make a full recovery. Of course, you'll be sore for a time to come, but we'll give you some pain medication for that."

"Yeah yeah," Dean quipped, "Not he first time doc. How's Sam?"

The doctor furrowed his eyebrows. "You need to take this seriously Mr. Phillips. While you will recover, your injuries were serious. You need total rest."

Dean inhaled deeply and released a sigh. "Will do Doc. Now please, how is Sam?"

Dr. White opened a second chart. "Sam Phillips. He had quite a few similar injuries as you. However, his head injury was more severe. I believe he will physically make a full recovery..."

Dean interrupted. "Physically? What's going on doc?"

Doctor White took a deep breath. "As I said, physically after some rest, Sam will make a full recovery. However, there was a complication from his head injury."

Dean sat up, ignoring the protest of his body. "What the hell are you talking about!" Dean shouted, tired of this freakin' doctor and his cryptic talk.

"Mr. Phillips. Your brother Sam, he has amnesia."

-TBC-