thank you again to everyone that had reviewed, it really makes my day. this chapter is a lot of setup, sorry for the lack of action, but it will be there shortly, i promise. enjoy. :)
IN TRANSIT
Chapter 11
Sam climbed along the outside of the train, Molly not even flinching when he told her he was leaving. She had slipped away, fallen into the deep recesses of her own mind, and Sam knew there was no way to pull her back out. She had just lost the only person in the world the mattered to her, and she believed that those who had promised to look after them were responsible. It was just another blow in her life of sorrow, and the youngest Winchester knew, no matter how much he didn't want to admit it, that the girl before him was beyond his reach, and she always would be.
He shook his head, focusing on the train, his hands holding onto the ladder with a white knuckle grip. He wanted to get to his brother before Dean tried anything stupid, well anything stupider than her normally tried. He knew Dean, knew he was going to try and find him, going to go out on the train when he was in no condition to. And, once again, images began to flash through Sam's already aching mind.
He tightened his grip as the images began their terrible progression, each one more devastating, more terrifying than the next. He could see Dean's eyes, wide and searching, as he lost his grip; see his brother struggle as he slowly slipped beneath the train, the hems of his jeans catching in the churning wheels.
"No!" Sam screamed, shaking his head, trying desperately to force the images from his mind. Dean was fine, he was alive and in one of the cars. He knew it was true, no matter what his mind tried to tell him, no matter what the nightmares showed. Dean was alive, Sam had to believe that.
He opened his eyes, his senses returning to him. He was back in the present, safe from his mind once again. But, even though he had managed to shake the nightmare, the after effect remained. He felt like he had run a marathon, his muscles aching, heart beating fast in his chest. He hurt, plain and simple. His breath was coming in quick, shallow gasps, his skin covered with a thin layer of sweat, head pounding. It had almost done it again, the creature killing him with his own fears, fears of losing his brother.
It was a fear he had had ever since he learned what hunting was, what was really out there in the dark. Even when he was at Stanford he was terrified to answer the phone, afraid that, one day, it would be his father, telling him Dean had not survived, that Dean was gone. It was something unfathomable, and yet all to real to the young hunter, and it was something that was going to end up destroying him. He didn't think he could live life knowing Dean wasn't there, just a phone call away. Sure, he never called him, but the option had always been there, and that was the only thing that got the young man through most of his life.
Sam sighed out in relief when he made it to the log wagon. He wasn't entirely sure which direction to go when he left Molly, but he knew that Raven's car was just beyond the last of the ten log wagons. Now, Sam thought, edging his way around the side of the car, let this be lucky wagon number ten. He took several deep breaths, his back pressed again the boxcar, as he looked down at the ground below him, the dirt rushing by beneath the train.
Unlike the train cars, the log wagon was nothing more than a open platform. Which meant, no ladders, and no pipes, just a good, old fashion pile of dead trees. Sam steadied himself, focusing on nothing other than the logs in front of him. He didn't need a broken arm, or a broke anything for that matter, and he also didn't want to have his brother hovering over his every move. No, he had to do this right. And hell, how hard could it be, westerns did it all the time.
Sam took one last breath and jumped, leaping towards the logs before his rambling inner monologue had a chance to continue. He felt himself slide as he hit the wood, his hands searching for something to hold onto as the motion of the train, along with his own momentum, sent him careening towards the edge of the wagon. Moments before he fell over the side, Sam's left hand found a hold; his fingers wrapping around a large nylon tie down. He held on for all he was worth, taking a few minutes to catch his breath before straightening.
He cursed, kneeling back down when the train took a bend faster then was probably wise. He could only see the wagon he was on and the five cars past it. He had no idea if there was another log wagon further down the train. He could feel his heart beat quicken with each passing second. He needed to get to Dean, needed to find his brother, and then they both needed to figure out what the hell was going on. It was more than just an angry spirit, it had to be. Sam didn't know why, but something in the back of his mind was screaming at him, telling him that there was much more going on than met the eye.
And that feeling was brought on by more than just the way the riders looked at his brother. It was in the way they spoke, the way they regarded each other, and in the story Molly had just told him. The rails were a place for secrets, a place lives could be lived in a haze of lies and deceit, and Sam and Dean had fallen right into the middle of one of their biggest secrets. The youngest Winchester couldn't help but feel like they had been lured into their current predicament, like they had been played. True, Dean falling from the train was an accident, but everything else that followed just seemed strange to him. Well, stranger then a human fly killing people with nightmares.
He knew they were using his brother, knew they were after him. He couldn't put his finger on how he knew, it was just something he could feel deep in his bones. There was more to the story then he knew, and Dean was the key to it. But then, they were Winchesters, so really, their luck was right on track. No matter what, they always seemed to pick the absolute wrong hunt. Even things that were easy as pie for other hunters were a headache if you were a Winchester.
Sam just sighed, steadying himself, before moving along the logs, his long legs proving to be more of a hinderance then anything. He was trying to stay low, stay out of the wind, but his body seemed to have other things in mind, his knees pounding painfully against his chest every time the train swayed or lurched. He really, really hated freight hoping, and he was going to make sure Dean knew just that when he found him. Because Sam refused to let himself believe that he wouldn't make it to his brother.
Dean was fine, he had to be. Sam was certain that, if something had happened to his brother, he would have known about it. After all, what good were psychic abilities if they didn't work for the person that mattered most. No, Dean was alright, safe in a boxcar, and Sam wouldn't let anything make him think different. He could feel the nightmares growing in him again as he climbed, the dreams coming at him stronger and stronger each time they resurfaced. The attacks were getting closer and closer together the longer the creature lived, almost as though they were trying to drown him, break him down until he was powerless to stop them.
One moment, he saw Dean sitting in a boxcar, berating him for being late, the next, he saw his arm, watched as his brother tried one last time to keep from slipping beneath the wheels. Flash. He heard Dean laughing, watched a smirk spread across his face, delighted in his own ill timed joke. Then, in an instant he was gone, a pine box the only thing that remained of the man Sam had once believed to be larger than life. There was no more smirk, no more devilish glint in green eyes, no more 'Sammy'. It was all gone, turned to dust, lost in the back of history.
"Leave me alone!" Sam shouted, the roar of the train deafening as he regained his senses. He was half hanging from the logs, his body shaking as the adrenaline left him. His left arm was tangled painfully in the nylon straps, his left knee propped against a side of a log, while the rest of his body hung out over nothing. And an instant later Sam realized with frightening clarity that the only thing keeping him on the train, was a tangled mass of rope.
"Holy shit." He breathed, pulling himself up by his now aching arm. Inches, he was only inches away from dying. His heart was pounding, breath coming out in short, shaky gasps. He scanned the length of the train, searching for the creature, certain that it was there. But he saw nothing.
He wiped his hand across his brow when he finally managed to pull himself up. He was covered in a cold sweat, his body shaking, numbness clouding his vision, and dulling his mind. He just needed to get to a boxcar, any boxcar, he just needed to rest. He barely had enough energy to keep his eyes open, but he knew that, if he went to sleep, he would be plunged into the nightmares once more. And if he had this many problems with them when he was awake, he couldn't imagine what it would be like if he actually slept.
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Pain. That's all Dean could comprehend; pain and darkness. He didn't know what he had been doing, but whatever it was, he was sure as hell not gonna do it again. His arm and head were throbbing, back aching. If he didn't know any better, he would have been certain that something was tossing him around the room. And then, instantly, the memories came back. He was on a hunt, on a train, and Sam was missing.
"Sammy." Dean breathed, forcing his eyes opened, but the darkness was still there. "What the hell?" He tried to push himself up, to reach a weapon, hell, to simple move, but nothing seemed nearly as easy as it was supposed to be.
He took a few deep breaths, willing the darkness around him to stop spinning, his vision slowly focusing on what was currently keeping him stationary. Boxes, or more precisely, large, heavy, wooden crates.
"Son of bitch." Dean moaned, taking stock of his body. Every last inch of him was beneath the crates, his broken right arm stretched above him, pinned in place by both wood and pain. He was laying on his side, his legs twisted beneath him, bits and pieces of broken boxes driving into his back. All in all, he felt like he'd been run over by a train; no pun intended of course.
He shifted his legs, thankful when he felt the boxes tip and slide, the crates on top of him creaking and breaking as they fell to the boxcar floor. He tried pushing himself up again, biting his lip against the pain that was shooting through his right arm. He just needed to shift the boxes a little more, then he could slide his way out from under them. He didn't know how long he'd been out, or where Raven had gotten to. Something was up with her, and Dean prayed to any deity that was listening that she wasn't going after Sam, or worse yet, sending that creature after his little brother.
It was fifteen long and agonizing minutes later when Dean finally freed himself of his wooden prison. He held his injured arm close to his chest, the pain so great that Dean was sure he would either pass out or lose his lunch, neither scenario being all the enticing. He leaned against the wall for several long minutes, his breathing deep and even, the cold air helping to lessen both the pain and nausea. He needed to get to Sam, and fast.
His brother was still suffering from the effects of the creature, his body growing weaker and weaker with each passing moment, shock setting in each time his mind wandered back to the nightmares. It wasn't like his little brother didn't have enough to torment him at night, now a bunch of hobos were sicking a human fly thing on him as well. Dean cursed when he finally opened his eyes, his heart sinking when the world around him remained painfully out of focus. But he couldn't dwell on that. Sam was in danger, and that trumped all.
Dean took one last, deep breath before looking out the door of the boxcar, the air rushing by him as he stood on the ledge. Every fiber of his being was screaming 'bad idea' in unison, but Dean knew he didn't have a choice. He had to get to his brother, and then he had to figure out what exactly was going on. Because he was now certain that this was way, way more then an angry spirit. So, really, Sam was right, not that Dean was ever going to tell him that.
The elder Winchester pushed that thought from his mind, he'd let Sammy gloat later, right now he just had to make it to his little brother in one piece. Dean looked both ways down the train, not at all sure which direction is brother was in, and the flashing, no signal sign on his cellphone wasn't doing anything to improve his mood. So, Dean just took a guess, and went with it. He knew Raven's car was near the end of the train, the few cars past him being populated entirely by Raven and Pete's 'family'. No, if Sam took refuge anywhere, it was in the cars before the log wagon, of that Dean was certain, well, almost certain.
Dean slid out onto the side of the car, his breath catching, right arm wrapping around the ladder when he felt his feet slip. Four inches out the door and already in trouble. Dean fumbled for a few minutes, breathing out only when he had both feet firmly on the ladder. He looked down the side of the boxcar, his heart sinking when he saw just how far away the other ladder was. Sure, there were pipes and footholds along the way, but with only one working arm, Dean knew that it wasn't a question of if he fell, it was when.
He rested his forehead against the cold metal of the ladder, cursing beneath his breath. He needed to get to Sam, but he also knew that he wouldn't be much help to his little brother if he was in pieces. No, he needed to find a way to get further then a few inches from the door, and not fall off the side of a moving train. A sudden idea hit Dean, the hunter looking above him instead of from side to side.
"Why the hell didn't we think of that before?" Dean mumbled, slowly pulling himself up the cold and slippery ladder. It wasn't easy by any means, but it was a hell of a lot easier then trying to slide his way, one armed, down the side of the train. After ten minutes, three near falls, and a countless stream of curses, Dean let out a long sigh of relief, his back resting against the cool metal of the boxcar's roof.
He smiled to himself, kicking the metal hard, "Who's injured now." Dean chided. He stayed where he was a few more minutes, willing away the pain the short climb had caused him. In reality, he should have been up the ladder and down the train in just a few minutes, but well, at that moment he was gonna take what he could get.
Finally getting both his pain and exhaustion under control Dean rolled to his side, peering up and down the train, his heart stopping when his green eyes fell on Sam. His brother was laying against one of the logs just behind him, the younger man clutching his head, his face pressed against the trees beneath him. And then, a moment later, he began to slide towards the edge. Dean picked himself up and ran to the back of the car as fast as he could, the train swaying and lurching beneath his feet. He let out a breath when he saw his little brother's arm slid into the nylon tethers, effectively stopping Sam's downward decent.
He came to a stop by the back of the boxcar, his heart beat slowing as he watching Sam try to pull himself back up onto the logs, the younger man regaining his senses almost as quickly as he had lost them. But Dean's relief was short lived when he looked down the train, his eyes locking on those of the creature, the beast staring at him once more, before disappearing into a distant car.