Seven

Disorientation

Long ago, back when everything was fine, John Winchester took his sons fishing. While Sam was far too young to remember it, it was something Dean would never allow himself to forget. It was his last memory of that kind of life before it was filled with blood and torture. Sometimes, when the wind was in the right direction or maybe when life decided to be kind, he would visit the same lake where they fished together in his dreams, and sit on the beach with a rod in his hand. He wouldn't care if he never caught any fish; he'd just listen to the sweet sound of silence and watch a topaz sky swirl around his small world. He was by the lake now, however this time was different. It was dark, and the sky was red like blood and the water was as dark as tar. Still, he sat on the beach, with his fishing rod in his hand like whenever he dreamed of this place. But his shoulders were tense. He had a feeling that he wasn't alone.

It only took a moment for her to appear.

"This is a nice place." At the voice, Dean glanced up at the woman who had not been there before. His infamous stalker. Whenever he saw her, she was wearing a white dress and the white orchid in her hair, but her hair style was always different. The blondish-brown curls where now tied up in a tight bun. "Death used to visit me in the Veil and tell me stories about beautiful places. This lake reminds me of a story he once told me about two friends who met by a lake. But they were a doomed friendship right from the start. One day, there was a rupture between them that neither of them could recover from. It was a sad story."

"He's a sad guy." Dean muttered. He shifted the rod between his clammy hands, wishing it was a gun so he could shoot the woman out of his head and wake up. It was strange; he didn't remember going to sleep. He remembered the heat and confusion, and the yelling, the arguing, and the feeling of being suffocated by it all, so much so that when it ended and he found himself here, it was a relief.

A relief that was very short-lived, apparently.

The woman glanced down at him for a moment. Her face was always blank, even when she was warning him about the Weeping Angels - not a very helpful warning, mind you - she was like a doll. Dean found himself irritated by it and turned away from the intruder. He looked out over the ugly blood-black lake. "You're a ghost, aren't you?" he said. He felt the ghost nod rather than see it. He already knew he was right: that research he did while Sam was shopping was thorough. "What the hell do you want with me?"

"Justice."

Dean spun back around in surprise.

The spirit shrugged. "I thought it was a good answer." She said absently. The woman brushed a loose hair behind her ear and then held out her hand to Dean, "We haven't been properly introduced. My name is Haley."

Dean eyed her hand like it was a snake."You already know who I am." he pointed out and Haley lowered her hand, curling her fingers in on themselves as if they were wounded. "Why are you following me? You do know I'm hunter, right? I could blast you with rock salt any time I wanted."

"Except you won't." Haley replied, "You want answers."

Dean paused. "...Are you going to give them to me?"

"No."

Turning back to the lake, Dean huffed quietly. He watched the water wash up against the sand and stain it black, but he didn't wonder why. "Why the hell are you here, then?"

"I've always been here. You just haven't noticed."

"Excuse me?"

Haley gave him a thin smile. "Don't let me wound your hunter pride. I'm not your average spirit."

"Okay. I'll bite. What kind of spirit are you?"

There was a shift in the air. Dean felt it as though his whole body had completely moved.

"Walk with me." Haley said and suddenly they were walking through a silver forest. Orange sunlight sprinkled down from the sky and made the leaves look as though they were on fire. As Dean glanced round, he noticed that behind and ahead there was nothing but blackness, but when they walked towards it, trees would sprout up and a path would appear to carry them. It was like walking through a black fog.

Dean looked at Haley. "What is this place?"

Haley smiled. "This is one of the places Death told me about, or at least how I imagine it to be. I wanted to visit it sometime, but it's gone now. It's like it just vanished from the universe."

"Yeah..." Dean said sceptically, "See, I know Death, and he doesn't seem like the kind of guy to stop around and tell little girls bedtime stories. Especially ones that steal from him and pin it on someone else."

There was a shudder of guilt in her otherwise emotionless eyes. Dean surged with triumph, knowing he'd pierced something. In his pocket, he felt Death's ring start to burn, as though it knew it was being talked about. Dean glared against the pain and stared hard at the side of Haley's head, hoping she could feel the burning of his eyes on her. Dean saw Haley's shoulders tense as he asked, "Why did you give it to me in the first place?"

Haley pursed her lips together for a moment, inhaling sharply through her nose. "As a means to an end." she replied, a moment later.

Dean scoffed. "You're dead." he stated, "What other 'end' is there?"

Haley glared at him, clearly trying to exercise control now. "You, of all people, should know that death isn't the end. Or did you forget? Must be a Tuesday."

Dean levelled his shoulders. "So, you really have been watching me the whole time. Why?"

That question struck another nail. Haley lost her control and her eyes became cloudy. For a moment, Dean was overcome with the sensation that he was looking into a fun house mirror. "Like I had a choice." Haley murmured.

Dean blinked, shaking his head to get rid of the feeling. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What does it matter? You want me gone, right? Okay fine -" She held out her hand, "Give me Death's ring, and you'll never see me again."

Dean stiffened. As much as he wanted to get rid of it, Dean didn't trust the way she suddenly shifted the conversation, looking at him with those pleading eyes. Besides, something about this was wrong. Dean could feel it in his gut.

"It's the only reason you can see me now." Haley was saying, "It's powerful. When you wear it, you have the power to take a soul from it's dying body. When you hold it, you can see and hear the spirits bound."

Dean already knew that. He also knew that Death's ring was one of four that could free Lucifer from his cage - and that there was no way he was going to just hand it over to whoever asked for it! "You know what? I think I'll keep it."

Her eyes widened. "You can't!" she stopped and cleared her throat, trying to regain some control, "Death knows you have it. He sent me to come and get it."

Dean gave her a tight smile and said, "And how do I know that this isn't a load of crap? How do I know that you don't want the ring for your own gain? In fact, how do you I know you're not behind all of this?" Dean waved a hand to their surroundings.

There! A flash of rage in those eyes. No matter how strange she acted, Dean knew she was no different to any other spirit he'd faced: angry, vengeful, killers. ...Yet, even as Dean thought that, his stomach turned over. It felt wrong: like when Bobby died and came back. He was a spirit. A vengeful one at that. But he was still Bobby - but why did Dean feel the same about Haley? Almost like he knew her?

"It's not like that!" she hissed, "I'm not that kind of spirit!"

"Oh yeah? What kind of spirit are you, then?"

"I'm a..." she stopped short and Dean twitched. Haley stared hard at him for a stretched moment, and then she chuckled. "Right. Smart. You almost had me blurting out everything."

There was a gap of silence spread out between them, and then: "Dean! Can you hear me, Dean?"

Dean felt something slap his cheek and everything around him tipped on its axis. Haley glanced around as the world swirled around them. "Although, right now, I think you have more important things to worry about." she turned to him sharply, "Do you even know why you're here? You were knocked out, Dean! You and your friends were attacked."

Horrified, Dean realised that he didn't remember! He tried to think back but he couldn't. Were they attacked? He remembered someone shouting…no lots of people shouting. With that horror coursing through his blood, his body re-started, and Dean woke with a jerk to find himself surrounded by darkness and noise. He could hear strange bird cries and the chirping of insects, and somewhere nearby there was a bubbling creak, but Dean couldn't really see anything beyond the blur of his own eyes and he couldn't feel anything beyond the ringing in his skull. "Dean!" came that firm voice again that had called to him in his dream, "Dean. Look at me. Focus on me." Through the glaze Dean saw bronze-sapphire eyes. He tried to sit up but he was suddenly overcome by dizziness and passed out again.

The sudden change from the icy cold air of the sea to the hot and humid air of the jungle was like a punch in the gut. Even more shocking was the way the sea and ship transformed into a shroud of green. Instead of sleek decks, trees surrounded them like an angry tribe. The noise of unidentifiable insects and creatures didn't pause as the six new arrivals appeared in a bed of reddish-purple mushrooms, in the shape of scrunchies and the size of footballs, which had been left undisturbed until that moment in time. The mushrooms burst and crunched under their feet as the Doctor, Castiel, Sherlock, John, Sam and Dean recovered from the spiralling journey Balthazar sent them on.

John gripped his knees dizzily. His face was pale with shock. "Okay...That was unpleasant."

Sam looked at him sympathetically. "Yeah, we probably should have warned you about that. Travelling with angels is a bitch."

They waited a moment to readjust themselves. The Doctor was perfectly fine, informing them that he'd travelled with angels before – at this, Dean looked at Castiel with a raised eyebrow – and he waded out of the lake of mushrooms and onto higher land, scrabbling up the mud-slope and to his feet so he could look around. The mushrooms were growing in a ditch, where the soil was damper where rain water had trapped there. Dean rolled his eyes and punched past the gigantic purple fungi and climbed out of the ditch onto a slippery mud slope. He was suddenly reminded of his time in Purgatory where he and the Vampire Benny waded through mud and blood day after day. The practise suddenly came into good use, and Dean managed to haul himself out of the mud without much difficulty. After each of them had climbed out of the mushroom pool they looked around them at the jungle world – Kembel.

It was a vast creeping place. Like a row of pointed teeth, a chain of mountains caged them with suffocating greenery. Even the sky was hidden: covered by thick treetops, isolating them from the familiar. Seeing this, John felt a cloak of unease settle on his shoulders and his face hardened. Sam and Dean were glancing round, analysing the place for themselves. They appeared to be on a cliff of some sort. From where they were stood, through the leaves, they could see where the cliff slopped down into a large valley. It was very steep – they weren't likely to survive if any of them fell. All around them were trees that seemed to stretch up forever. The Doctor stepped forwards to the edge of the cliff and scanned the landscape with heavy eyes. "Hello again." He murmured absently to the planet. He bent down and raked his fingers through the soil. He picked up a handful and sniffed it carefully before throwing it down again.

Dean watched him for a moment. He looked at Sam, who raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, motioning to the Doctor. Dean looked back at the alien and said, slowly, "Soooo…'Heaven's Most Wanted' huh?"

The Doctor paused in his movements. Castiel glanced between the two men.

"It's a story for another time." Castiel said firmly, before anyone else could speak or raise a question, "We should focus on locating Jack Harkness. If there no other people besides him and us and if he's out in the open, I should be able to fly round the planet and locate him."

"No!" The Doctor all but shrieked, spinning round to him with a look of pure horror.

Everyone stared at him.

"No." he said again, much calmer this time. "We stick together. Got it?"

When Dean woke up the second time, he saw a sliver of sky peeking through the tree tops above him. In that tiny gap, he could see hundreds of stars twinkling against a cloak of purple and black clouds. He shifted and heard the crunch of leaves under his back, and then he remembered the voice that called out to him."John?" he called, hoping desperately that the man would answer.

"Right here." John's voice called back. He sounded like he was far away and Dean could barely here him over the bubbling of the creak. "Don't move. I'm coming over now." Dean heard something shift and then almost jumped when he felt a hand on his forehead. "Stay still while I put this on your swelling."

Dean leaned away from the touch. "Where's Cas? He'll patch me up."

"Cas isn't here."

Dean paused. Cas wasn't...? Dean waited for an explanation. The Doctor had taken his over protective stick out of his ass and let Castiel search for Jack, maybe? That would be a relief - but the way John was looking, his lips tight and his eyes focused on Dean's injury; his work, Dean guessed that this was not the case. Dean tried to strain his neck to see where Sam and the others where, but he couldn't see them. He suddenly got the sense that something was very wrong. "Where's Sammy?" he demanded.

"Sam isn't here either."

Dean jotted upwards so suddenly that his stomach leapt up and began to crawl its way up his throat! Dean threw up on the grass as John rubbed his back.

"You have a concussion." John explained gently, looking up at the sky for comfort. "You'll feel sick and will most certainly get a headache. If you have any other symptoms you need to tell me straight away. We also need to find somewhere safe you can rest. And...We're on our own now, Dean. Sorry."

Dean groaned, wiping phlegm from around his nose and mouth on his sleeve. "Hold on. We can just call Cas, right?" John didn't look too sure, but Dean did it anyway. He called out to Castiel and waited. He tried again, and waited. And again. Each time, nothing. Dean sighed, "Awesome."

John tired to stop him as Dean tried again to stand up. "You need to take it easy! Concussions are very serious."

"Dude!" Dean waved him off, "I'm fine."

Dean passed out again.

There was yelling, although Dean couldn't remember why they were yelling at one another. His memory was in fragments, and the argument was a piece that was missing. However, he vaguely remembered what came after.

Sometime into the argument, the Doctor said something that made everyone fall into a stale silence. Soon they realised that the jungle around them had too gone silent, filling with the creeping sensation that they were being watched by intelligent eyes. Intelligent because, as Sherlock pointed out seconds after it happened in urgent thinking, whoever it was had chosen to dispose of the most powerful one in their group.

That's why Castiel was attacked.

"Cas!" Dean cried, but Castiel was gone: he'd been flung off the cliff by something none of them could see and fallen into the valley below. Dean expected him to fly back up, but he didn't.

"No!" came the Doctor's strangled cry. He charged forwards to where Castiel had been, but something punched him in gut and sent him hurtling back.

Dean and Sam stood by each other; weapons steady in their hands; eyes searching the trees.

The next time when Dean woke up, it was nearly morning. The light stung his eyes like someone had poured lemon juice inside them and he groaned, closing his eyes against the pain. After a moment, he tried to roll over, but there was a giant mass clinging to his head. "My head feels heavy." He said, to no-one in particular.

John replied, "That's because it's the size of a surfboard. I'm putting some cold bandages on it to hopefully help the swelling settle."

Dean let John hoist his head up and wrap something that was cold and heavy around his crown. It soothed his ravished head, but it did nothing to sooth the drilling he felt inside. As John lowered him back to the ground, Dean noticed that John was shirtless.

"I didn't have any cloth." John said, shrugging. It was humid and damp in the jungle anyway, so John couldn't complain. "There's no opening so you won't get an infection, if that's what you're worried about."

"You a doctor, or something?"

"I am, actually."

Dean hummed. "I didn't know that."

John's lips pressed into a thin line, "Well, we didn't have much time to chat in between me fracturing your jaw and fighting monsters." he gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry about that."

Dean smiled a little to show that he was okay with it, and then cringed as a throbbing pain started in the pit of his stomach, "Ugh…I feel sick…"

"Symptoms of a concussion. Nothing to worry about. Open up." Dean surprised himself by obeying and John put something on his tongue, "It's a paracetamol. Swallow."

It took three attempts, but Dean managed to swallow the tablet dry. He slowly eased himself up onto his elbows and looked round, without moving his head. He didn't recognise the place, but he wasn't sure if that was because of the concussion or if they genuinely had moved since last night - at least he thought it was last night. "What happened? Where's Sam?"

"What do you remember?"

"Arguing with the Doc." Dean answered truthfully, "Then I woke up here. And...there was a lot of yelling."

John licked his lips and cleared his throat. It was probably best that Dean didn't remember the heated curses that were exchanged. It made John wonder, if they ever found the others, how they would sort it all out. Eventually, John said, "…We were attacked."

"Put your weapons down!" The Doctor said, a voice rushed with alarm. He placed a hand on John's gun to lower it. John wasn't even aware he'd taken it out. The Doctor tried to get up. His jaw was set with determination. "You can't fight them. They're invisible!"

Sam glanced up from his brother, who lay unconscious on the ground. His face was filled with rage and confusion. "What the hell are they?"

"The Visian."

Dean frowned, "Visian? What the fuck is that?"

John shrugged as he washed dried blood off his hands in the river. He had a large cut on his right arm and an unhealthy looking bruise on his cheek. Dean chose not to point out the irony in that. "I've got no idea." John was saying, "I thought you would know, but I guessing aliens aren't exactly your forte."

"Not exactly, no. The closest thing to aliens I got to was abduction by fairies." John was staring at him. "Never mind." Dean scrubbed his face with his hand and groaned. "What happened after I went under?"

He hesitated. "…I got you out but…I didn't see what happened to the others."

So then what happened to Sammy? Dean swore quietly, "Damn it, if I hadn't gotten knocked out…"

"You can't blame yourself!"

"Who else is there to blame?"

John paused, and then said, "We should get moving, but we need to stay close to the river so I can carry on your treatment."

John helped Dean up and, after swirling on the spot for a minute, the two of them set off down the riverbank. Mushrooms, rotting leaves, and maggots crunched under the weight of their boots. At one point, John stepped in saturated mud and it spilled over the side of his shoe and soaked into his sock - but he barely noticed. He'd been through far worse in the war. A bird began to call across the forests and the repetitive sound was like a chisel to Dean's head, and he covered his ears.

A few hours into their journey, they stopped so John could re-apply the cold shirt to Dean's swollen head. John searched the brambles for something to eat, but he didn't trust the berries growing on the bushes of an alien planet, so gave up and they both drank the water instead. The Doctor had told them it was safe to drink and now he was gone, they found themselves trusting his advice. John found himself wishing that he was there with them to help them, but there was no point moping about it. With empty bellies, the two of them continued through the jungle.

Eventually, the river gave way to a mass of trees and shrubbery, which in turn gave way to a large, misty swamp. This was one of many misty spots on Kembel, since it had a very unique environment for such a small planet - the planet it's self was only just larger than Earth's moon.

John stopped abruptly, "Did you see that?"

Dean frowned. "See what?"

"It looked like a man. I'll take a look." John stepped down from the embankment and walked towards the swamp. Dean watched him, as the mist swirled up over the water and swallowed him, and was suddenly reminded of the last time they were here:

Sam had yellow eyes. Dean was staring hard and, yes, he was pretty sure they were yellow. Bright orangey-yellow, like that son of a bitch demon who tried to hurt his Sammy. He didn't know what to do. His father's words rattled about in the mist. "Save Sam, Dean. If you don't, you'll have to kill him."

"Stop it! Don't move!" Castiel's voice echoed around him, coming out from the fog, "Sam, stop moving now! Sherlock, you as well. Dean, put your gun down."

Dean looked over at the yellow-eyed Sam, feeling sick, but he obeyed Castiel. "Cas!" he called, "Where the hell are you, man?"

"I'm right beside you."

Dean looked to his left and his right, but all he could see were faceless yellow eyes glaring at him out of the mist. In the distance, he could hear the yellow-eyed demon chuckling to himself. Dean pulled out his gun again, aiming at one of the pair of eyes.

"Dean, stop!" Castiel ordered, his voice raising in alarm, "You're pointing you're gun at John!"

Dean froze, his hand shaking. "I'm...what?"

"You're hallucinating." Castiel explained, "All of you are. Whatever you're seeing isn't there. It's from the mist when you breathed it in."

"Oh, crap!" Dean swore and quickly pulled his shirt off and tied it around his nose and mouth. "John!" he tried to say but with his shirt muffling his words, it sounded like "Jaaph!" Meanwhile, John was wandering deeper and deeper into the Misty Swamp until Dean could no longer see him. Dean rushed to help him, calling his name, even though there was no way the other man could hear him with the cloth in front of his mouth.

"Dean, I swear I saw..." John stopped and stared deep into the swirling strings of grey light, his blood running cold. "What are you doing here?"

Dean caught up to him. He dragged John away from the swamp by the arm, scrambling through the mist. He could barely see! It was just grey - and then something swooped towards him. Dean ducked underneath it and was slapped by the leaves. He grunted, shoving them away with one hand while he dragged John along behind him with another. He had no idea where he was going. He just had to get him and John out of this mist! Suddenly, something like a giant dragonfly with yellow eyes shrieked and clawed at him. Dean couldn't tell whether he was hallucinating or not, but when the creature scratched his face, the pain felt real enough. He let go of John to fight if off, pulling out his gun and shooting. The bullet passed through the mist and a loud crack filled the air, but the creature had gone. And so had John.

Dean looked round, but all he could see in the grey light were distorted shapes that looked nothing like a human. "John!" he called. Which way had come from? Dean picked a direction and ran. "John!"

Dean charged through the mist as quickly as he could that he didn't have time to stop when he saw the large figure bolting towards him and ran straight into it with enough force that he was sent flying back. He quickly regained his balance however, stopping himself from falling, and looked to see that he ran straight into John. Both relieved and worried, Dean took a hazy step towards him.

John pulled out his Browning L9A1 and pointed it at Dean.

Dean threw up his hands. "Whoa! John, it's me! Dean." he cried and when John was unmoved, Dean shook his head in disbelief. "It's the mist, John! You're hallucinating!"

John looked confused. He glanced at his gun, and then back at Dean.

"I don't know what you're seeing..." Dean stopped because, of course, the mist! John could be hearing anything. He probably sounded like he was speaking another language. Instead, Dean kept his arms raised and took an inch towards John.

John jabbed his gun forwards and Dean froze, raising his hands higher. John watched him cautiously. Dean tried again, moving another tiny inch. This time, John only shifted on his feet and cleared his throat.

"Just trust me, okay?" Dean tried to say as he inched another bit towards him. With one swoop, he punched the gun out of John's hand and grabbed his arm, dragging him back the way they came. John struggled against him, swinging a punch towards him. Dean blocked it. "Dude, I'm trying to help!"

Despite John's fighting, Dean kept a firm hold and dragged him through the grey light. The mist eventually faded into greenery and Dean fought hard against the plants and insects swooping at him to get away. His head was swimming, and the edges of his sight were beginning to darken. He had to stop. No other choice. Dean skidded in the mud, tripping over a branch and falling into the dirt. John spun around behind him, confused and dazed.

Dean stood up and roughly shook the other man. "John! Snap out of it!"

John flinched and Dean saw his eyes clear up. He looked like he'd woken up from a nightmare. After a pause, John let out a sigh of relief, "Jesus Christ..."

"I'm flattered." Dean breathed.

John stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out if he was real or not, and let out a breathy laugh. Dean laughed along with him for a minute, patting him on the shoulder, until the leaves shook around them. Both men went rigid, scanning the jungle around them.

"We can't stay here." whispered John.

Dean nodded and they ran.

The trembling leaves chased after them.

Dean swore. His head was spiralling, his eyes barely open. Something behind them screamed. He could hear pounding footsteps behind them, dangerously close. There was no point looking back. He had to rely on his other senses.

Suddenly, John grabbed Dean and pulled him down, just as something swooped over his head. Dean tripped, scrambling in the dirt, but John yanked him up. John risked a look back. He instantly regretted it. In the next moment, there was blood in his eyes and mouth. He choked. Blind. Floundering. He reached out and was met with cold skin and hair. Gasping, John reeled back, his back hitting a tree and falling to the ground. He wiped furiously at his eyes and saw green. He heard a gun go off. John jumped to his feet, scrubbing his face as he tried to escape blindness.

"John!"

"Dean!" He called back, looking around, blinking. He spotted a figure wrestling in the mud and charged towards it.

Dean punched and kicked against the weight pressing him down. "Get off me you son of a bitch!" he tried to reach for his gun, barely an arm's length away, when something sharp stabbed into his wrist. He cried out as bones cracked. With his other arm, he swung up and came into connect with something. He punched hard. He think he did more damage to himself than he did the Visian.

John charged forwards with a branch and hurled it at the space above Dean. It shattered. For a second, the attacker came into view. Claws. Human-like features. At least eight foot. It disappeared straight after, but it was enough for John. He grabbed Dean's gun and fired. There was a rattling cry, and Dean writhed in pain. There was pounding.

Silence.

Dean clenched his teeth. "Ugh…"

"Dean!" John rushed forwards, checking his wounds. "Talk to me."

Dean groaned, his eyes slipping close. His head was thundering. His muscles aching. He felt John's hands on his face, his eyes, but he couldn't see him.

John looked around, not daring to leave his patient's side. In his head, he tried to arrange his thoughts: Water. Shelter. Rest. In the panic, they lost sight of the river. Water was out. Not good. Not good. John inhaled sharply and his bruised lungs hissed. He gritted his teeth against them, forcing himself to breathe evenly. He listened for their attacker, but could only hear insects and birds - or at least, what sounded like insects and birds. He couldn't be sure.

Scrubbing his face again, John slowly stood on trembling legs. He looked up, seeing the valley rise up in the distance. He squinted. Was that...? His heart jumped in his chest. "Dean." he said, bending down to gently shake the man, "You have to stay awake."

Dean mumbled.

"There's a cave!" John shook him again, and Dean slowly eased his eyes open. He got up to his feet and pulled Dean up with him, making the other man lean his weight on him. "It's not far." he reassured himself and Dean. Truth be told, he didn't even know how far it was. He didn't even know it was a cave.

Light began to fail them. As the sun sank into the ground, the air grew colder and colder. John clenched his teeth and focused on the cave at the top of the valley. It was their only hope now. No water. No food. One concussion. Possible broken ribs. Large cut. Risk of infection. Several bruises. Now, the cold and the dark came to attack them. John was exasperated with it all.

Dean was dragging behind, his eyes barely open. John pushed down his own complaints and focused on him. He looked over his shoulder to check if he was still awake. Dean could die like this. John couldn't allow that.

"Hey." he said gently, and Dean's eyes fluttered, "Hold on for me."

Talk. He had to remind himself, against his own fatigue. The chill was coaxing him into oblivion. His arms were growing numb from the weight on his back. Talk. He reminded himself again. "Tell me more about yourself, Dean."

"Du-e. Time an-nd place."

John's throat was dry. "I have a wife." he said, "She's called Mary. What about you?"

Dean was quiet. John's stomach turned over. "Dean?" John looked back over his shoulder, but Dean was still awake.

"Just go'h Sammy."

"Parents?" then he remembered what Sherlock said, "No, you don't. No home, either." he was grappling at straws now, "Do you have a car?"

"Mmm-hmm. She my baby." Dean murmured, "M' so tired."

John tensed. "No. Dean! You have to stay awake, you hear me?" he looked ahead of them. They were halfway up the valley, but it was almost pitch black now. John could see his breath in front of him. His legs were creaking like branches. John groaned. "Dean. I need you to help me to help yourself."

"...uh?"

"I need you to pull your own weight. Just for a little while. Until we get to the top, I mean. Can you do that?"

"Mmm."

John couldn't tell whether that was a yes or a no, but he felt the weight on him lessen a bit. "Okay. Good. Now, walk." They moved along into a city of rocks. The stones were smooth and wet from an earlier, rainfall and John's boots squeaked when he slipped. Dean grunted, helping John regain his balance and the two of them continued moving together. Up above, there was was a rumble. A storm was coming. Still, it was almost comforting – at least they heard something familiar in this strange place. After a while it began to rain; light gentle drops that only lasted for a minute or so. Each drop clicked as it splattered from the very high leaves and tumbled, bouncing and sliding along, to the very bottom of the forest floor.

At the top of the valley, John almost collapsed.

There was no cave. Just a bundle of rocks stacked up to look like one.

"We 'ere?" Dean mumbled, his legs weakening, his weight pressing John down. John hear him sliding from his back.

"Dean!" John tried to keep him up right, but Dean was finally overcome by fatigue. He lowered him as gently as he could to the ground. "Dean! Don't do this! Don't you dare leave me alone!"

Rain began to fall. Ice sharp drops that felt like acid. Maybe it was acid.

Panic gripped John's throat. He shielded his eyes and the rain burnt his skin. He tried to protect Dean - but how could he? "Dean! Wake up!" John tried to clear a dry throat. "What was his name? Cas! Castiel!" his voice was wheezing. The rain was turning his skin pink and wrinkly. He cleared his throat again. "Castiel!"

There was no answer.

John groaned as the pink spots on his skin began to fester and bleed. John stared. He must going insane. It was raining diseases! He shook himself. Focus! He looked round desperately. He had to do something, or else he and Dean were doomed. John looked over the forest, trying to think...The forest. It wasn't effected by the rain! But there no way John could carry Dean back again, and no way of waking him up. Think! Where was Sherlock when he needed him?

Leaves. That was it!

John plunged into the jungle. He scrambled, flailing about like a madman. He stopped at the first plants he found and grabbed handfuls of leaves. He held them over his head as he charged back out into the rain. He placed them over Dean's face, which was swelling up and purple. He prayed that Dean would recover, and ran back into the trees for more. He found the largest he could and held them like umbrellas. When he collected enough, he and Dean were in a cocoon of leaves, protected from the outside rain. John sagged onto the ground, barely holding the leaves up. He prayed they stayed were they were. John looked over at Dean, at the purple boils and blood covering his face, and was amazed to find that, as Dean dried off, the boils shrank and eventually disappeared. John sighed with relief and rest his head back onto the ground. He told himself he was going to stay awake. He was going to keep them safe until the rain stopped. He was going to - but he feel asleep before he could finish that final thought.

About Kembel – Kembel was a planet featured in the 12-parter episode 'The Dalek's Master Plan' featuring the First Doctor. Unfortunately, the episodes are lost and will probably never be viewed ever again but you can find the whole story on the tardiswiki. Most of the description of the planet I made up because there isn't a lot of solid information about this planet. As for the monsters, the Visian, they are an actual Doctor Who monster, but the Visian don't actually live on Kembel, but I included them in this chapter as part of the conflict. (There's a reason for this which will be explained in the next couple chapters.)

Until then, thanks for reading. Over and out.