thank you all once again for the great reviews. sorry this chapter took so long, my life's been a little crazy this past week. there isnt too much action in this chapter, just laying the ground work. enjoy. :)

IN TRANSIT

Chapter 6

Sam laid on his side in the boxcar, his head pounding, stomach still churning as the images rushed through his mind again. He didn't remember much before the nightmares took over his mind. All he saw of the creature was its eyes, sick and wide, blood red and yearning. It was like they were calling to him, piercing his soul, and burning deep into his mind and heart. And then, he saw it. Jess. But she wasn't burning on the ceiling, wasn't already beyond his reach like she had been. No, now she was there, barely a foot away, the demon's arms wrapped around her.

She was crying out to him, begging him to help her, to save her, but he was powerless to stop it. Every time he tried to move towards her the thing pounced, digging into her skin, blood flowing from her freely. And, as her tears mixed with her blood she called out for Sam. Then, just as he was sure his heart would stop, his very soul breaking as he watched the love of his life die, he heard his brother's voice. But he hadn't seen Dean anywhere in the room, hadn't heard him at all before the demon attacked. No, all he could remember before that moment was red eyes.

And then, just as soon as reality started to seep back into his mind, he blinked, and was thrown into another nightmare. But this time, instead of being at Stanford, instead of reliving a months old, he was hanging on the side of the train, just as he had been mere hours before. Now however, instead of turning to see his brother stumble, banging his arm before attempting another jump, he saw something far worse.

Dean stumbled again, hitting his arm on the ladder as it past, but now, instead of bailing on the attempt and trying again, Dean held on, sliding beneath the train as it charged down the tracks. Sam was forced to watch as his brother kicked at the ground, trying desperately to pull himself up onto the ladder as gravity continued to pull him down. He kept screaming at him to just let go, pleading with him as he watched the sickening scene play out before his eyes.

But just as he watched Dean's legs slip below the train, just as he saw the hem of his jeans being sucked up into the heavy metal wheels, Sam heard his brother's voice far louder and closer than it should have been. No, Dean had just been pulled beneath the train, crushed by the locomotive's strong wheels, he couldn't be talking to him.

And then he remembered the red eyes. That thing had killed his brother, ripped him from the train, and now it was playing games, lying to him, driving a knife of guilt and loss further into Sam's already racing heart. And worst of all, was that thing was speaking to him with his dead brother's voice. Mocking him, with the voice that had lulled him to sleep as a child, the voice he had so desperately wished to hear every time the phone had rung at school. But now, it just sounded so wrong. It was Dean, everything in his heart and soul was telling him that, but it wasn't possible. He had just watched him die.

"Sam!" Sam's eyes flew open when he heard the voice, blinking back tears as he scanned the room, Dean kneeling beside him, his eyes wide and full of worry.

"Dean?"

"What the hell, dude, that thing attacked you like an hour ago."

"Huh?"

"You looked like you were being attacked again." Dean's voice and hands both shaking slightly as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, I just started thinking about what I saw and, I don't know."

"Wait, just thinking about it did that to you?"

"Did what to me?"

"You were going into shock again, Sammy. I've been calling your name for the past ten minutes!"

"What?" Sam began, sitting up slowly, the world still spinning. He felt like he'd gone ten rounds with a professional fighter. Every muscle in his body ached, each heart beat sending a wave of pain careening through his body, his head spinning as he tried to pull in much needed air.

"Dean, what was that thing?"

"I have no idea, but I'm pretty sure it isn't a spirit."

"Where'd it go?"

"Down the train, got someone."

"Damn it. It wasn't one of those kids, was it?"

"I don't know, it was a guy, that's about all I could tell."

"We need to get down there to check on them."

"Whoa, slow down, tiger. You're not going anywhere."

"Dean. I'm fine."

"Hey, that's my line. Besides, you're far from fine. You look like death warmed over."

"Thanks for that lovely image." Sam mumbled, leaning back against the wall of the boxcar, his senses thankfully returning to normal. "So, what's the plan?"

"First thing's first, we get off this train."

"What? Dean, that thing's still out there."

"Yeah, I've noticed, but you're in no condition to hunt anything right now."

"And you are?"

"Yes."

"Dude, your arm is broken."

"But my mind is still wonderfully intact."

"Says you."

"Look, I can get away from that thing, you can't."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

"Oh no, you're the one that opened your big mouth, spill."

"The creepy human fly thing did the same mind meld on me that it did on you. Nightmares and all."

"Then, how are you standing there like nothing's wrong?"

"I don't know, I just kind of pulled away."

"That's it."

"No, I did a dance and sang, did I forget to mention that part."

"Dude, be serious."

"I am. Sam we don't know enough about this yet. I mean, that thing almost fried your brain."

"Actually, I think it was trying to give me a heart attack."

"Listen, smart ass, as soon as this train stops, we're getting off."

And, as though fate itself was listening, the train chose that moment to grind to a bone rattling halt. Sam reached out with both arms, catching Dean inches before he hit the floor, his older brother shielding his injured arm as he fell. The train shook as it came to a halt, unsecured boxes sliding around the car, banging into the brothers as the sat against the wall.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked, pushing away from Sam as the train finally stopped.

"The train stopped."

"Thank you, captain obvious. Any idea why?"

"Because it was supposed to." Sam mumbled, searching through some of their paperwork.

"Dude, did you hit your head, because right now you're making one crappy ass side-kick."

"No, Dean. It's stopping because it's supposed to."

"But you said the first stop was hours away."

"Yeah, Fargo."

"So why the hell are we stopping now?"

"I remember reading something about a pass around here. The trains sometimes have to stop if there's a rock slide."

"Oh, that's just great." Dean mumbled, pushing open the door and scanning both sides of the train.

"See anything?" Sam asked, pushing himself to his feet, leaning against the wall as the train car began to spin once more.

"Nothing other than a bunch of people getting off."

"What?" Sam asked, leaning out the door. It was true, many of the train's passengers seemed to be more than content with their current surroundings, some even setting small fires to cook their dinners.

"Looks like we're gonna be here a while."

Just then there was a scream from somewhere down the train, many of the passengers running over to the sound, elbowing each other to get a good look at the insides of the boxcar. Sam made his way easily to the front, his large body barreling through the bystanders, Dean following close behind. Both brothers knew what they would find, though neither was really prepared for the sight that greeted them. There, laying on the floor, hair as white as snow, was a man that couldn't have been older than thirty, a woman equally as young kneeling beside him, shaking his shoulders in an attempt to wake him.

"Molly." An older man broke through, surprisingly strong for his age and meager stature. "Molly, come here, child." He began softly but sternly, pulling the mousy haired woman away.

Though she was probably no older than Dean, Sam could tell that she had faced a lot of hardship in her life. Her eyes were vacant and hollow, face taunt, her pale skin sallow with sickness. Her clothes were clean, but in tatters, her long hair braided and covered with an equally warn scarf. It was obvious that she wasn't just someone riding the cars for fun or freedom, this was her home.

"No!" She wailed, still holding onto the corpse, tears streaming down her face. "No, Martin, please." She cried again, shaking him.

"He's gone, child. Missy." The old man signaled to the crowd, a woman in her fifties coming forward, tears streaming silently down her face. "Take Molly here and get her a drink."

"Yes, Sir. Come here, baby." She began softly, pulling Molly by the shoulders, the young girl still calling out for the man she was leaving behind.

"You all run along now." The elderly man shouted, his voice switching from kind and caring to shards of glass almost instantly. "You all've done your ogling. Let us bury our kind in peace. Shoo."

And, slowly but surely, the crowd dispersed. All except for Sam and Dean that is.

"Excuse me, Sir." Sam began, doing his best, I'm-a-good-guy-gotta-love-me impression.

"I said, git." The man turned quickly, staring at Sam with such sharp eyes that the younger Winchester immediately recoiled, even though he was well over a foot taller than the man. "They were just kids, those two. Hard times, neither deserves this. And I'll tell you both right now, we look after our own here, so you better just up and keep your noses out of our business."

"My brother didn't mean any harm." Dean began, pushing past Sam.

The old man looked Dean up and down for several long minutes, taking added interest in the way Dean was sheltering his arm, his sharp grey eyes drifting back and forth between the brothers before settling once more on Dean. "Arm needs tending, boy." He blurted out, eyes never leaving Dean.

"It's fine."

"Bull. You want that to heal all wrong, run the risk of losing it?"

"Uh, no."

"Then get it tended to. Head over to car four eighty three, back end of the train, past the log wagons. Look for Raven, tell her Pete sent ya." And with that he turned, all his attention focused on the dead young man before him.

"Well." Dean began, turning towards the end of the car, still nursing his now throbbing wrist. "I guess we're in."

"What's the supposed to mean?"

"Dude, we just got ordered around by their leader."

"They aren't aliens, Dean."

"All I'm saying is that now's the time to get some answers." Dean whispered as they approached the back cars, a man, larger than Sam, standing like a stone sentinel in front of the log wagon, greeting them with a grunt.

"Yeah." Sam mumbled as Dean walked up to the man, relaying the message 'Pete' had sent them with. "I we don't get ourselves murdered first."