Hello again, everyone. thank you all so, so much for the great reviews, they really do mean alot to me. i hope everyone enjoys this next chapter.

warning: this chapter gets a little gruesome at parts. not anything you wouldnt see on the show, but there are some disturbing images.

IN TRANSIT

Chapter 5

Sam and Dean sat in the boxcar, both brothers staring wide eyed at the door, their hearts racing. It had found them, and neither Winchester could help the wave of fear that ran over them, making the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end. It was there, just beyond the door and moving closer. And, worst of all, they had nowhere to go.

"What do you think the chances are it will just pass by?" Dean began, nervous eyes glancing between the door and his brother. But Sam just rolled his eyes, carefully moving towards their weapons.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing, Dean? I'm getting weapons."

"Dude, don't provoke it."

"Provoke it? Did you hit your head or something?"

"No, I'm just saying that we don't know enough about it yet."

"Dean, I've been saying that for the past week. You don't get to pretend to be logical now."

"Hey!"

Sam was about to answer when the humming grew louder, a light tapping sounding from the other side of the door. They both jumped a few moments later when the gentle tapping turned into a frighteningly loud thud, the entire door shaking with the force of it. It wanted in, and, by the sound of it, it was getting in one way or another. Dean's eyes shifted between his brother and the door, his heart racing when Sam pulled just one shotgun from the bag, slowly creeping towards the door before his big brother could even stagger to his feet.

"Dean, stay down." Sam whispered, moving towards the now rattling door, the shotgun held tightly in his hands.

"Like hell." Dean bit out, pain radiating once more from his broken arm. But he didn't care, his brother was moving closer and closer to the beast on the other side of the door, and Dean knew he had to get there first. After all, Sam was his little brother, he was supposed to watch out for him, not the other way around.

"Dean, I'm just gonna take a peek."

"And die of a heart attack! No freaking way."

"Dude, that's not gonna happen."

"Yes it is."

"Would you just stay back. The last thing I need is to try and shoot the thing while keeping my idiot brother from falling off the train."

"Even better that I help. I can shoot, you can keep me on board."

"Dean, go sit down." Sam growled, just as the train lurched to the side, causing Dean to fall painfully to the floor. "You alright?"

"Oh yeah, I'm just peachy." Dean mumbled, trying again to push himself to his feet. But Sam was already at the door, his left hand wrapped tightly around the handle, right gripping the shotgun, the humming and pounding growing while he stood.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, trying once more to pull his brother back from danger, but it was no use. Sam just gave him one reassuring glance before pulling open the door. And it was then that Dean's heart stopped. Because, the instant the door open, the instant Sam looked around the corner, he pulled in a deep breath and froze.

Dean stumbled and slide across the floor, the train lurching from side to side as it wove its way through the mountains, Sam's white knuckle grip on the handle the only thing holding him inside the car. His little brother swung from the door, long legs inching closer and closer to the edge as he stared on, his eyes wide and glassy, face set in a look a sheer terror.

"Sam!" Dean yelled again, watching in horror as the color drained from Sam's face, his dark eyes sinking down as he stared slack jawed at whatever was just beyond the door. He was losing him, Dean could feel it in his bones, feel it in every beat of his heart. He was losing Sam right then and there, watching as he slipped into a state of unabashed horror, his nearly comatose body sliding slowly from the speeding boxcar.

Dean made one final, pain filled grab for his brother, catching the back of Sam's collar just as the younger man pitched forward, his left hand going slack. Dean slide across the worn wooden floor with the weight of his much bigger little brother, his right arm connecting painfully with the frame of the door. And, in an instant both brothers went from the relative safety of the boxcar to handing out the door, Sam's long legs still thankfully inside. It was then that Dean saw the entity.

It wasn't that it looked all that terrifying, no, it looked almost human and strangely surreal. But, as he stared into its blood red eyes, he felt a tension growing in his chest. And suddenly, fear washed over him, snaked its way into his soul, burned his heart. He watched as the being, poised on the side of the car like some kind of demented insect stared down at him, a large, fang-filled smile spreading across its deformed face. A long tongue slithered from it's mouth, white film dripping from it, eyes staring at the brothers with an otherworldly and unholy lust. It's long legs bent back at odd angles, almost as though Dean was staring at a human cricket, its long, bony arms sliding towards them, the skin a putrid mix of mold and decay. And then, the images flashed before Dean's eyes.

He saw his mother, struggling on the roof, flames licking at her skin, her hair melting away as he watched. Flash. Now he was at a lake, the very same lake he had been forced to pull his father from at the age of twelve, though now, instead of pulling John back to safety, instead of feeling the weight of his father in his arms, he felt the hands of the hundreds who had died there wrapping around his legs, pulling him under as he struggled for air. Flash. He was on the plane again, watching helplessly as people were pulled through breaking windows, leaving nothing but skin and blood in their wake. Flash. Sammy, in the fire, his little brother fighting his way towards the door, flames devouring him as he screamed out for his brother.

"No!" Dean screamed, forcing the images from his mind, his body shaking, sweating, a fear like none he had felt before still boring into him. Non of that had happened, he had made it through all those trials, it was just a trick. He yelled again as he forcefully pulled his mind back from the hands of the creature before him, startled to see just how far out the door they had slide.

He heaved his brother back towards him with every bit of strength he could find, pushing against the wall with his broken arm, the adrenaline drowning out any pain he should have felt. He had managed to save everyone except his mother, had managed to pull his family and others out of danger before, and he wasn't about to let either he or his brother fall off a train because there was a freaking, half-human, wanna be bug on the door.

The being screeching as Dean finally managed to pull both he and his brother into the car, the creature's call so loud and piercing that Dean was sure he was deafened by it. But he still beat it, still managed to pull Sam away from it, and he relished the triumph.

"Messed with the wrong bunch of guys didn't you, Bitch!" Dean shouted, slamming the door closed and falling, exhausted to the floor. But, instead of seeing the door shake again with the powerful pounding, instead of being met with the ear piercing screech, Dean found himself in nothing but overwhelming silence.

That was, until a man's pain-filled scream of terror echoed from somewhere down the train.

"Damn it." Dean cursed under his breath, knowing there was nothing he could have done, but still feeling a overwhelming guilt at the stranger's death. He was there to save people, and now he had just let the thing get away, and it killed.

But that thought was immediately pushed from his mind when he rolled over, his eyes finally landing on Sam. "Oh god, Sammy." Dean breathed, his heart beating with renewed fear.

Sam's eyes were open and hollow, his skin paler than Dean had ever seen in before. His breathing was so shallow and slow that Dean had to lean in to hear it, waiting for several tense seconds before he could register that his little brother was in fact breathing. It all reality, it looked like Sam was dead, and that scared Dean more than the thing perched on the side of the train.

"Hey, Sammy. Come on, dude, look alive." Dean commanded, his own voice shaking as he felt Sam's slow, but thankfully steady pulse. He tapped the side of his brother's face lightly, needing a response from him, anything, just some proof he was still alive, still fighting. "Open your eyes, damn it."

"Jess." Sam breathed, his body beginning to shake. He was going into shock.

"Hey, hey, calm down little brother, it's not real. Listen to me, Sammy. Follow my voice."

"Jess, oh god."

"Sam!" Dean stated with more force, grabbing his brother's shoulders and shaking him. He had to get Sam to listen, had to get him out of whatever nightmare that thing had thrown him into.

Dean slid to their duffles, pulling out a jacket and some water before returning to his brother's side. Sam's tremors had grown in intensity in the few short minutes since the attack and Dean knew he had to keep the younger man from going into full blown shock. He wrapped the jacket around Sam's shoulders, speaking to him in a calm, yet still forceful voice the entire time, trying to coax him back to the present, pull him from the torrents of his racing mind.

And then, after he made sure Sam was alright, he was going to find that damn thing, and he was going to shoot, salt, burn, exorcise, resurrect, shoot, salt, burn, and exorcise it again, all for good measure. Because nothing, alive of dead, messed with his little brother.

"Dean?" Sam mumbled, pulling Dean back to the moment. He was at his brother's side in an instant, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, buddy, I'm here."

"Oh god, Dean, stop."

Dean was instantly and painfully aware that Sam was not calling to him from semi consciousness. No, whatever that thing had done to him was still happening, and now, instead of seeing Jessica, he was seeing him.

"No no no no." Dean began, rubbing Sam's shoulders, he had to bring him back. "Nothing's wrong, Sammy, we're on the train, remember?"

And, unfortunately, Sam did seem to remember. He remembered because he was now having visions of it going terribly wrong. "Oh no. Dean leg go. Oh god."

"Damn it. Sam, I'm fine, I didn't fall off, I didn't get hurt. Well, not really. Come on, Sammy, just listen to me. I'm here, we're here, we're fine."

"Oh god, please." Sam mumbled, tears now rolling unchecked from his closed eyes. "Oh please."

"Sam, listen to me! Don't look at me. Just listen to my voice but don't look around you."

"No."

"Close your eyes, Sammy." Dean yelled, hoping against hope that his brother could hear him. "Close your eyes and listen."

And slowly, thankfully, Sam began to still. "Good, buddy, now just listen to me, follow my voice."

"Dean? No, Dean."

"Hey, hey, keep those eyes closed. Just listen. My hand's on your shoulder, can you feel it."

'No, you died."

"No, I didn't. Can you feel me?"

"It's a trick. You killed him, you bastard."

"Hey, neither one of us is dead. Now come on, Sammy, listen to me."

"You're lying." Sam fought back, punching Dean's injured arm.

"Damn it. What's with the freaky aim?"

"Dean?" Sam instantly stilled, his eyes fluttering as he fought off the nightmares.

Dean smirked. Who would have though snide remarks would do the trick.

"Yeah, princess, it's me, I swear. Open your eyes, dude."

And finally, thankfully, Sam's brown eyes slide open, his searching gaze landing on his brother. "You're alive."

"Told you."

"Oh god, I think I'm gonna be sick." Sam managed to bite out before the nausea claimed him, Dean rubbing his back slowly as whatever Sam had eaten made a reappearance.

"Yeah, nice to see you to." Dean quipped, though his own heart was still racing. That was close, way, way too close.