A/N – This chapter is written in honour of my ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY of writing Supernatural fanfics! I was curious about it yesterday so I looked it up to see when I'd started writing and checked the date only to discover it was actually 19 January 2007!!! I can't believe it's been a whole year, but it just goes to show that time really doe fly when you're having fun… it's been a wonderfully rewarding experience, and I look forward to the year to come! I've made some great friends on this site and had some wonderful support and encouragement from them and other readers/reviewers. Thanks to everyone whose gotten me through the year, and don't worry, I'll be around for a while yet!
Disclaimer: As usual, not mine… not feeling particularly witty, so that's it. Saving my energy for the story ahead…
Chapter Five
Really, Really Bad…
"Dean!"
John's voice echoed through Dean's head but he couldn't seem to focus, couldn't seem to open his eyes. His whole body felt heavy, like his blood had turned to lead, and his mind was filled with images that were painful and distorted. Sam… pain… oh God! Dean gasped for breath, trying to fight against whatever it was that was weighing him down, trying to fight through the darkness. He reached out with his left arm, grabbing at the ground around him and trying to drag himself toward where his brother was. He had to reach Sam…
"No," Dean murmured, prying his eyes open but seeing nothing but that blinding white light. Sam's face floated somewhere beyond the light, pain and betrayal in his face. "Sammy…"
Dean tried to focus on his brother, but all he could see was his blank stare…
"Oh God, Sammy," Dean groaned, pain shooting through his head. He tried to drag himself closer to his brother, but he couldn't move anymore. He didn't have the strength left in his body, all he could do was let himself sag back on the ground, lowering his head and squeezing his eyes shut against the images that haunted him. "Sammy…"
"DEAN!" John's voice rang through louder and Dean felt strong arms lifting him from the ground. He moaned at the movement but pried his eyes open. The light was still there, blinding him but he could make out his father's face. "Dean? Are you okay? What happened? Where's Sam?"
Dean frowned. Sam was… Sam was… Dean couldn't answer, couldn't tell his father what had happened, couldn't tell him what he'd done. He closed his eyes and pointed passed his father at the path where he'd seen his brother… his little brother…
"Sam…" he groaned, fighting to get to his feet. He fell back against his father, unable to move as Sam's face flashed through his mind again. "I'm sorry…"
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
John glanced up, looking in the direction Dean had pointed. There was nothing there… Sam wasn't there, the creature wasn't there, nothing. All John had found was Dean collapsed on the ground, his body twisted at an awkward angle, his face pale like… well, like he'd seen a ghost, except that had never made Dean turn white like it would most people.
"Joshua?" John called out as he saw his friend kneel down checking something. "You got something?"
Joshua glanced up, a worried look on his face that sent John's heart racing. He got to his feets and rushed to John's side, glancing down at Dean.
"Shit," Joshua whispered, dropping to John's side. "What happened?"
"I don't know," John admitted. "You got something, don't you? What did you find?"
Joshua hesitated before holding his hand up to show him the red smear on his fingertips.
"Sammy's?" John asked, his throat choking.
Joshua nodded.
"No other sign of him," he said. "No drag marks, no blood drops, just this one pool of blood… John, there's something going on here that we're not ready for. I think we've gotta make a phone call…"
John nodded, looking back down at Dean.
"John, we've gotta go," Joshua insisted, looking back down at Dean. "He's in a bad way and we don't know what's wrong with him, we have to get out of here…"
"No," Dean muttered, lifting his head with a grunt of pain. He wasn't lying in a weird position anymore, he was on his back with his head on his father's knee and when he opened his eyes he saw the fear that was in John's eyes. "We have to… Sam…"
"Dean, what happened?" John asked again. "Where's Sam?"
"I… I…" Dean swallowed, closing his eyes again. "I k-killed him…"
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Dean felt his throat close over as he heard the words come out of his mouth, his mind screaming at him that he should have been the one to die, not Sam… that Sam had deserved a better brother than he was or could ever have been… Pain, guilt, anger… rage… filled Dean's chest, grief already consuming everything he thought and felt. He had killed his little brother, shot him… taken his life with his own weapon… Sam's face flashed in his mind, his mouth wide with the pained cry that was muffled by the gunshot, his eyes wide with fear and betrayal…
Oh God, Dean thought. I killed my brother…
He could feel his father's arms tightening around him and knew he was being lifted to his feet. He couldn't fight it, he was being led away from the woods, away from his brother, when all he wanted to do was join him… he didn't deserve…
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
John sat beside Dean's bed, watching him tossing in his sleep. He was burning up, his face was red with fever, his voice strained as he groaned… he called out his brother's name, pleading for forgiveness, begging to wake up, and when there was nothing left but his muffled, pained cries, John tried to wake him up.
"Dean, come on, dude," John called to him. He grabbed Dean by the shoulders and pulled him to sit up, but even as he shook him, Dean moaned. His pained cries settled down and the tension left his body. He sagged against John, exhaustion taking over his body. John sighed, feeling completely helpless, completely lost. Dean was in bad shape, he was sick, something was attacking his body and there was nothing he could do to help him… John was afraid that Dean was going to die, that they wouldn't be able to figure out what to do…
Worse still, Sam… little Sammy, John's little boy, was out there somewhere. He was hurt, missing, and all alone. Dean said… Dean had said that he… John shook his head, unable to accept the possibility. Sam couldn't be dead, he wasn't willing to believe it. Dean would never have hurt him, even if something was messing with his head…
Sam had to be okay, and right now John knew that he had no other choice but to wait.
"I spoke to Bobby," Joshua announced, walking in from the parking lot. John looked up at him, his eyes searching beyond his friend. "I'm John, I looked every where, I couldn't find Sammy anywhere…"
"Jesus," John whispered, laying Dean back down and holding his head in his hands. "What am I going to do? Where is he?"
Joshua sighed.
"Bobby's on his way, I told him what was happening… some of it anyway, but the minute he heard about Dean he said he was on his way. He's a few hours out," Joshua explained, collecting a cloth and wetting it in the bathroom, carrying it back over to John. John took it and began wiping Dean's forehead, trying to cool him down. "He said he's calling Jim Murphy… I think he might know something we don't, John…"
John nodded but didn't respond. If he were being honest he'd have to admit that he was relieved to hear that Jim and Bobby were coming, that he would have someone to help him find his boy and figure out what was happening to Dean… but it would take more honesty than he could muster to admit that he was fast losing hope for saving his family…
He couldn't even admit that to himself…
"We're going to figure this out, John," Joshua assured him. "We're going to find Sam, I swear…"
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Two hours later
There was a knock at the motel room door, startling John awake. He had fallen asleep, slumped in the chair by Dean's bed, his hand resting on his son's forearm. He glanced at Dean, noting he seemed to be resting somewhat peacefully for now, and then checked his watch as Joshua answered the door.
It was two in the morning.
"How is he?" Bobby asked, moving immediately to Dean's side and pressing a hand against the younger man's forehead. "He's burning up."
"His temperature is about 99.8," John told him. "You drive like a bandit or something? You cut your trip by at least an hour."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure how much time we'd have," Bobby answered gruffly. He wore the most serious look John had ever seen cross his face and he immediately felt sick. If Bobby was this worried, there was more to the story than John realised. "How longs he been like this?"
"He's been unconscious since we found him, in and out…" John explained. He looked at his watch again, realised he wasn't thinking clearly. "Um, about two and a half, three hours ago?"
"His symptoms would have started before that," Bobby sighed, eyeing the desk and moving toward it. It was still covered with open books and notes. "Has he been acting strange lately? Dizzy spells, anything like that?"
"He's had migraines," John told him. "And he did lose control of the car but I don't know if that was because he was dizzy or not… other than the headaches, he hasn't mentioned anything to me."
Bobby shook his head.
"You damn Winchester's are too stubborn," Bobby snapped angrily. "You're going to hide some sickness one day and get yourselves killed… let's just hope that this isn't what's going to happen to Dean right now…"
"Bobby, what do you know?" John asked, narrowing his gaze at his friend. He felt Joshua shifting uncomfortably from across the room and knew Bobby had him worried too. He just wished that he'd explain what was going on.
"When did the headaches start?"
"About six days ago, maybe a week…" John sighed, realising Bobby wasn't going to say anything until he was sure. "Bobby…"
"I can't have any of this 'maybe' shit, John, I have to know," Bobby snapped, beginning to pace. "If you're telling me he's been having headaches for a week, I'm guessing the visual hallucinations started a few days ago, though I'm guessing he didn't realise that that's what they were… tonight is what I really need to know about now… did he say what happened to Sam?"
John took a deep breath, closing his eyes against what he was about to say as if it meant he wouldn't have to hear it if he couldn't see it. Logic had no place in his world right now.
"He said he…" John shook his head, rubbing his eyes angrily. "He said…"
"John, come on…" Bobby sat on the edge of the nearby bed and lowered his voice, deliberately trying to calm down. "Did he say he hurt Sam?"
John shook his head.
"He said he killed him," Joshua piped up, taking the burden of saying those words away from John. "There was blood in the clearing, but no sign of Sam and no drag marks."
"Okay, look, this is serious," Bobby sighed. "John, if I'm right, and it sounds like it is… this is only going to get worse… we have to find Sam, but right now that's the least of our worries."
"He could be bleeding to death!" John gasped. "He's hurt and there's some scary ass demon out there… I can't leave him out there alone!"
"You don't have any choice, John," Bobby told him gently. "If we go after Sam, Dean will die and there's nothing we can do to stop it… but if we help Dean, we might be able to get to Sam before it's too late."
"Do you know what's happening to Sam?" John asked. "Is he dead?"
"I doubt it, though Dean's a damn good shot… if he'd been aiming for Sam I'd be more inclined to say he might be dead, but he wasn't and there's no body… I think something's taken him," Bobby explained. "Now, believe it or not, that's the good news…"
"Great, what's the bad news?"
"If we don't find Sam in a week, there might not be anything left of him… and if we do find him, he might not be the same Sam he was when you saw him last," Bobby explained. "But we can't worry about that."
"Why the hell not?"
"John, Sam has more time right now than Dean does," Bobby told him. "Dean will die in about three days if we don't figure this out… and the biggest problem we have now is that we cant move him and Jim wont be here for about three days… we're really going to be pushing it…"
John looked at his son as he slept. Dean looked so peaceful now, far from how he had been even an hour ago. How could he look better if he was dying? Nothing felt real, nothing felt possible, it was all just so wrong…
"How?" John asked.
"How what?"
"How will he die?"
Bobby sighed. John new he'd been hoping to avoid that particular part of the conversation, but John wanted to know. He needed to know… he couldn't let his son go through all of this alone, there was no way he was leaving his side and yet… if there was something he could do… he needed to know what he was up against.
Bobby glanced at Joshua. The look didn't pass by unnoticed by the remaining Winchester.
"You know?" John asked, his tone accusing. "You know what's happening to Dean, and you didn't tell me?"
"John, Bobby just gave me a few highlights, he didn't have time to fill me in," Joshua told him. "I didn't know the rest and since there was nothing we could do I figured it would be better to wait til Bobby got here."
John glared, a feeling of betrayal rising in his chest that he knew wasn't fair or entirely rational. His friend had done the right thing, he just didn't like it.
"Tell me," he demanded gruffly.
"In most cases," Bobby began, looking down at Dean. "The victim commits suicide…"
John swallowed, shaking his head.
"No," he snapped, refusing to accept that possibility. "Dean would never… he couldn't! He would never even consider it!"
"Even if he thought he'd killed his brother?" Joshua asked, carefully.
John couldn't answer. He didn't know what to say. Sam was the one and only weakness he knew of that was strong enough in Dean to make him behave irrationally. Dean took risks, he always did, especially when there were people to protect, but when Sam was involved… all reason went out the window and he was more than willing to sacrifice himself to save his little brother. Sam was Dean's whole world, John knew that. Even though he didn't entirely understand the depths of the relationship the brother's shared, he knew that it was further ingrained than he could imagine. Each of the boys were willing to give up the world to save the other… and John had to admit he had often worried about the lengths they would go to for each other.
Now, however, he didn't have to stop and think about what Dean would do if he believed he'd killed his brother… he already knew the answer. That was a pain that Dean would never be able to bare, he would never be able to forgive himself… how was Dean ever supposed to live without Sam? Dean had never told John in so many words, but John had gotten the distinct impression that if something were to happen to Sam he would hold himself responsible, and now John worried about how responsible he would feel. But in this case, if Dean had shot Sam and believed he'd killed him…
…there'd be no stopping him.
"What am I going to do?" John whispered, hanging his head in his hands helplessly.
Bobby laid a hand on his shoulder.
"We're going to watch him every second of every day, John," Bobby told him. "Dean wont be alone, I promise you… and right now I'm going to call Jim and fill him in, see what else we can do and then I'm hitting those books of yours and see what else I can find out…"
John smiled.
"They're Sam's books," he corrected proudly, looking at the pile of papers on the desk. "He's become the researching machine…"
Bobby nodded and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He immediately flipped it open, hitting the redial button to call the pastor that, John hoped, would have all the answers.
He glanced at Dean again. How could this be happening? What had gone wrong… his son, his little boy, how could they be talking about suicide watch to stop him from hurting himself? And what's worse, as Joshua pointed out, they couldn't be sure that it wouldn't have been out of the realms of possibility even if Dean hadn't been effected by the creature. Sam was the only thing in Dean's world that had ever happened, and if he had killed him…
How could this be happening?
"Bobby?" John looked up at his friend, interrupting the phone call. Something had just occurred to him, and he needed one final answer. "If he doesn't… you know… will he still die?"
Bobby hesitated.
"Yes," he stated.
John swallowed.
"How?" he asked again.
"His body will shut down, piece by piece," Bobby told him. "All his major organs would start failing until he finally just… until he died."
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
John snapped awake, lifting his head from where it rested on Dean's shoulder. He had felt Dean tense, as if he was making a fist and when he looked up he saw his son's eyes were open. Dean was awake, and there was a pain in his eyes that worried John more than anything had in his life. Dean's eyes, normally sparkling and teasing, were dark and cold.
"Dean?" John spoke gently, trying to keep any tone of fear or anxiety out of his voice. "How do you feel?"
Dean didn't answer. He didn't move, barely even seemed to breathe. The only John saw in his was, somehow, the darkness in his eyes seemed to deepen.
"Dean?" John tried again. Bobby had left the desk and moved to John's side, glancing down at Dean. John waited, knowing that the man had something to say but he wasn't sure what it was. He wasn't prepared to hear it, either, when Bobby spoke.
"This is it," Bobby began. "We can't leave him alone or…"
John knew what he meant but he tuned out anyway. He watched Dean carefully, seeing something beneath the darkness that he hadn't previously noticed, something he could barely recognise. It took him a minute to identify it, but then a flash came through his mind, a fourteen year old memory…
The look in Dean's eyes the night his mother died. The fear, the pain, the devastation that only a four year old could wear so openly. John knew he'd worn the same devastation in his eyes that night from the moment he'd seen his beautiful Mary pinned to the ceiling, bleeding, eyes wide as she pleaded silently with him to save their precious baby… their little miracle… her mouth open in a cry she couldn't muster…
The look in Dean's eyes now was darker, but John knew what it meant. Dean had lost the one thing in his life that had always been there, that he had always relied on, always counted on… the one person that gave himself meaning. For John that had been Mary, and after her death it had been his son's who had so desperately needed him to be there for them… but for Dean there was no one left. Sam had been his sole reason for getting out of bed every day, his reason to do everything he had ever done – with the exception of a few blondes along the way.
"Dean, none of this is your fault," John told him, hoping to break through the haze that had taken his son and convince him that they could still save Sam, that he wasn't lost to them. "Sam's going to be okay, we'll get him back…"
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
"Dean, none of this is your fault…"
Dean could hear his father's words, but they seemed so far away that he couldn't taken them in properly. He remembered saying the same thing to Sam, in the car… before the hunt… before Dean… before he killed him… Dean didn't care what his father said anyway, nothing mattered. Sam was gone, how could anything else matter? How could anything compare to that?
I killed my little brother, Dean thought, pain filling his chest.
"Sam's going to be okay, we'll get him back…"
No we wont, Dean though bitterly. He's gone, I killed him…
As awareness sunk around Dean and the pain of the night before threatened to overwhelm him, he realised that other pains had subsided considerably. The bright light that had blinded him had gone, the vice-like pain in his head had dulled to a steady ache, the strange colours that had distorted his vision was gone completely… everything around him was clear, painfully clear. The only thing that remained was the agony in his chest with every heartbeat.
He hated that sound, that rhythmic thud in his chest… it wasn't fair, it wasn't right. His body was carrying on as if nothing had ever happened, as if he hadn't done anything wrong. But he had! Sam was gone, he was dead, and it was all Dean's fault… all of it! He should have waited, he should have fought the creature off the way Sam had when they'd first come across it… Sam had protected Dean from it without shooting him, without killing him. Dean had failed to protect his brother…
Dean had failed…
Failure was even the right word, he realised. How can you fail to protect someone when you're the one that hurt them? How can you be protecting the person you kill? Life had a twisted sense of humour, Dean thought. Giving him a baby brother that the doctors said would never be… he remembered the tears his mother had shed the day the doctor told her that she'd never had any more children. She'd had complications when Dean was born, and then a few years later she wanted another baby only to be told that the damage was too severe and the scar tissue she had would prevent her dream from coming true…
More tears the day the same doctor told her se was having a baby…
"How do you feel about having a little brother, Dean?" she asked, pulling Dean onto her lap and putting his hand on the newly forming bump.
"A brother?" Dean gasped, staring at his mother's tummy with wide eyes. He looked up at his father. "A brother?"
John nodded, grinning widely.
"A brother, someone you can play with and one day he can wrestle with us and play football with us…" John told him. "What do you think?"
Dean had pursed his lips a moment, considering everything he was being told carefully. He shook his head and rubbed him mom's tummy.
"No," he said, much to his parents dismay. Before they could ask what was wrong, he continued. "I'm gonna look out for him, make sure no one ever hurts him…"
Dean's own tears filled his eyes as he remembered his promise to his little brother before he'd even been born. How wrong he had been, he realised. He hadn't done a very good job of protecting him… he'd lived to fourteen before Dean had taken what was left of his life…
"Dean, this is Sammy, your little brother," John announced, holding the tiny bundle out to the latest big brother, laying him gently in Dean's arms. "What do you think?"
"Wow," Dean whispered, cradling the tiny baby carefully. "He's so tiny."
"You were that tiny once," John told him. "But don't worry, Sammy's going to get big and strong, just like his big brother…"
"I have to be bigger than him, Daddy," Dean told him, looking up at his father with concern in his eyes. "How am I gonna protect him if he's bigger than me?"
John chuckled.
"Don't worry, Dean," John assured him. "You'll be able to protect him… you'll always look out for him…"
Dean grinned.
"Nothing's ever gonna happen to you, Sammy," Dean promised, placing a gentle kiss on top of his baby brother's head. "I wont let anything happen to you…"
Dean was bent over the toilet, heaving painfully before he'd even realised that he'd moved. His stomach, already empty of what little contents it had had, began expelling bile that burned as it was rudely ejected from his body. He heard himself moaning with the pain and effort of the retching, and each time Sam's face flashed through his mind he found himself heaving more.
When he was finally convinced that his body had finished punishing him, Dean turned from the bowl, resting his head and back against the wall and breathing deeply. Sam… he couldn't drag his thoughts away from his little brother, the tiny baby he had been, swearing to protect him… his best friend, his partner on the hunt, the one and only constant he had had in his life.
Their father had been in and out of their lives, frequently leaving to hunt, leaving them with someone else or alone for Dean to take care of them… but Sam, no matter what had happened, Sam had always been by his side… always.
Except now.
Opening his eyes as Sam's pained face mocked him again, he saw he had a three man audience watching him carefully. John, Bobby and Joshua were standing not three feet from the door way, eyeing him with fear and concern. He wondered briefly how long they had been there for but when he saw his father open his mouth to speak he realised he couldn't stand the look in their eyes.
Judgement… fear… accusal…
Unable to stand it a second longer, Dean kicked the door shut with his foot, reaching up and turning the lock quickly. He listened to them furiously bang on the door, calling out to him to open up but he sighed and closed his eyes, refusing to let their words seep in. He just wanted it quiet, cold and dark and quiet, so he could close his eyes and pretend none of this had ever happened… he had to… he wanted the whole world to go away. He didn't want to have to think anymore, to see the pain on his brother's face as he had desperately tried to reach safety, to get help, the surprise as Dean had raised his gun and pulled the trigger…
Dean pulled himself to his feet, holding onto the basin to keep himself steady as his legs threatened to betray him…
He hung his head, his brother's voice pleading with him to help…
"Jesus, Sammy," Dean muttered, hearing the catch in his throat. "What have I done?"
You were supposed to help me! Sam's voice cried. You were supposed to protect me!
"Sammy, I'm so sorry…" Dean murmured, tears slipping freely over his cheeks.
You promised, Sam accused. You promised you'd always be there…
"Oh God," Dean hissed, gripping the basin hard as anger, guilt and hatred filled his chest.
I needed you! I needed you to help me… to save me!
Dean felt his heart pounded hard in his chest as he gritted his teeth painfully and opened his eyes…
I'm your brother!!! How could you do this to me???
Dean saw his knuckles turning white as he gripped the sink tighter. He knew if he let go his world would spin into oblivion, but he was convinced he was halfway there…
I'M YOUR BROTHER! I LOVED YOU!
Dean glanced at himself in the mirror, seeing pale skin and red eyes staring back at him. Tears were streaked down his cheeks, his lip was quivering as he fought passed the lump in his throat to speak.
"I loved you too, little brother," Dean whispered, pleading with his reflection to believe him. "I would have died for you…"
If you loved me, how could you do this to me? HOW? You don't love me, you never loved me… if you loved me, I wouldn't be here alone… it's cold and dark and I'm afraid… How COULD you?!?
Dean felt as if fire were rising out of him, starting at his feet, travelling up his legs, over his stomach, into his chest, down his arm and finally exploding in his head. His whole body had begun to shake…
"SAM!" he cried, his fist shattering the glass in front of him before he realised what was happening. He saw blood spatter on the mirror, but the anger just continued to rise in him. He saw his face, fractured in it's reflection, and was filled with a self hate so painful it consumed him. He pounded his fist into the mirror again and again until there was nothing left…
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
John stood back from the door, realising that Dean was in worse shape than he could ever have anticipated. He could he his son mumbling to himself, as if he were talking to someone, but he couldn't make out the words. He hadn't been alone for more than a minute but it was more than enough for him to do some damage and judging by the torment he had seen on Dean's face seconds before he'd closed the door, he was mere minutes from breaking point.
"Kick it down," John announced, prepared to rush in the minute the door was open. Bobby, not needing any other enticement, raised a powerful leg and drove it into the door so hard it splintered at the handle.
Glass shattered inside, accompanied by Dean's pained voice crying out his brother's name. The sound sent chills through John's body as he listened, waiting for Bobby to get the door open…
On more kick and the door opened, barely standing on it's hinges. John raced passed Bobby and grabbed his oldest son around the chest, pulling his away from the broken mirror. He checked Dean's hand for glass to make sure he hadn't grabbed any pieces, but aside from the shards caught in his skin John knew he had gotten to him in time.
"First aid kit," John barked, seeing Bobby run to the other side of the room. Joshua was by John's side, wrapping a clean white towel around Dean's injured hand to stem the bleeding until they got him situated back on the bed. John held onto him with all his strength as Dean struggled, tears streaming down his face.
"I KILLED HIM!" he yelled, aiming accusing eyes at his father. "He's all ALONE! He needs me, I have to get to him…"
"Dean, no," John told him gently, raising his voice to make sure Dean could hear him. "Sam's okay, he's not dead, I promise…"
"That's one hell of a promise to make," Joshua muttered quietly, helping John hold the struggling Winchester.
"Sam's isn't dead, he's fine," John snapped. Before he had even finished speaking he felt the fight go out of Dean as he collapsed, slumping in his arms. John looked up at Bobby as he reached them with the first aid kit.
"It's the infection," Bobby explained. "It plays with the victims mind, convinces them it's their fault, that they should die in order to save their loved one from spending an eternity alone… if he doesn't kill himself first, it'll drain the life right out of him…"
John and Joshua had managed to drag Dean's weight to the bed, laying him down carefully.
"Three of us here, in the room," John hissed angrily, grabbing the first aid kit from Bobby. "How are we supposed to keep him alive if he can get passed all of us that easily?"
"We'll be ready for him next time," Joshua assured him. "We know what to expect now."
"That's not good enough!" John yelled, looking up as he unwrapped Dean's bloody hand. "It could have already been too late…"
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Bobby shut the motel room door behind him as he waited for Jim Murphy to answer his cell phone. When he finally heard the man's voice he wanted to sigh in relief. He sounded so close, and yet Bobby knew he wasn't close enough.
"How long?" he asked, not announcing himself.
"Another day," Jim told him, sounding exhausted. "I'm driving non-stop, Bobby, I can't cut a three day drive any more than that…"
Bobby nodded before realising how futile that was.
"It's getting bad here, Jim, I'm running out of ideas," Bobby told him. He was worried about his friend driving so far so quickly, and with no breaks, but he knew there was no choice if they wanted to save Dean's life… and Sam's. "We could've lost him right now… John's freaking out, Joshua's… well, he's Joshua…"
"Ever the optimist?" Jim asked, chuckling lightly.
"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "But I don't think even he's believing it this time… and meanwhile, when we're all busy dealing with this, Sam's…"
"I know, Bobby," Jim interrupted him, reminding the man he was well aware of what would be happening to the younger of the Winchester brothers. "We can't help him right now, we just have to save Dean as soon as possible and get to Sam as fast as we can…"
"Before…"
"I know, Bobby," Jim assured him. "We'll get there before… I promise…"
TO BE CONTINUED…
A/N – Got you hooked yet? Another evil cliffy? I do write cliffhangers – as OFTEN as possible – on purpose, but I must admit I was hoping to finish this chapter yesterday so I wouldn't leave you hanging for so long… I can't believe I couldn't get it written! LoL
Incidentally, if you come across a muse who looks a little lost, ask her if her name's Missy – she was named after the creepy ass little girl in the Benders – and give her a piece of chocolate and send her home…
Reviews appreciated.
