A/N: I'm sure you're getting tired of hearing it, but I'm so sorry for my delay in replying to reviews. It wasn't just the holiday weekend, it was also the fact that I've reached the end of the pre-written parts of the story. I usually do leave the final two or three chapters to be written at the last moment, after I've seen how the story has evolved and changed while it was being posted. I do such extensive editing before I post each chapter that sometimes the story I started with is totally different than the one I end up with. And I don't know until I near the end of posting which direction the conclusion will take. What notes I want to hit and where I want to leave it.

This story has been more of a journey for me than any of my others, even Hozho. Because between the story and Season 4 I have dug so deeply into my perception of the souls of the Winchesters that I feel like I have been walking down the path of the story next to them. So it was important to me to put serious effort into these final chapters. I don't want to let my version of the boys down, and I don't want to let the people who have been sharing this with me down.

Your reviews mean more than I can say. They've made me laugh, and cry, and given me insight into my own story. But I stopped replying as we headed into the weekend because my free time became scarce, and all of my concentration turned to what is happening next in the story.

LOL So I guess this counts as a warning that now that this chapter is posted those of you that I haven't replied to yet can stop relaxing. You're not avoiding one of my long and rambling replies completely. It was only postponed.

Warning: Cursing galore. And this time I mean it.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. The incredible fun of playing with them is the only profit I receive from the story

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From Chapter 18:

Which explained why the elves were at a celebration with enough weapons to hunt grizzly. No word of explanation given to the mere mortals about why it was happening, but migrating bands had been arriving in their area. They'd joined up with the local hag's merry band of creepy little men. Whatever had stopped the elves from going after the hags themselves didn't apply to the spriggans. They were fair game and tonight a little hunting party would be setting out to play…

…When he heard what Titaniea had to say, if keeping his brother safe meant telling Dad everything, then he'd do what he had to do.

It wasn't because keeping the secret from Dad was killing him. He'd live with that if he had to. It was because the more he saw just how connected Sam was to these creatures, the more it scared him.

He had a hell of a lot of doubts about going along on this little hunt. Enough to make him sick to his stomach. But he needed some answers and this might be his only chance to get them.

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Chapter 19 That Mortals Never Know

They left the fields and the bonfires behind, following a small band of the fae deeper into the woods. It was a short procession, led by Titaniea and two other elves on horseback, the rest walking silently behind. A good portion of the fae had stayed behind at the bonfire celebration, whether to protect the mortals there or just to keep on partying was anybody's guess. The few small fae that accompanied their group flanked the brothers at the rear of the line.

Music and laughter fell away until the only sounds were the tinkling of the bells on the horse's manes and the calming buzz of night insects. Whatever enhanced sight had been given to Dean when he touched the fairy's hand seemed to still be in effect. The slight glow surrounding the fae and the turbo charged fireflies drifting through the air around them provided enough light for him to see his immediate surroundings. At least well enough not to trip over the brush that blocked his way or face plant into a tree trunk. The underbrush dropped back as they moved deeper into the forest until they were walking easily over damp leaves, surrounded by widely spaced trees.

Shadows were thick and dark beyond the small pool of radiance that traveled with them. Dean was itching to pull the small flashlight out of his pocket, but there was no way he would let his little brother show him up. Sam seemed just fine with the light provided by the fae, his stride relaxed and confident. Dean just couldn't find the same ease in his own mind. He didn't know what that said about them. Which one of them was more screwed up? Himself for finding it impossible to trust, or Sam for trusting too easily?

The sound of gurgling water began to wind through the air, and then soft splashes as the horses waded through a shallow but swift stream.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean stopped at the edge of the stream. The elves walking in front of them hadn't made a sound while crossing, somehow managing to stay out of the water. He didn't think they could actually fly, but who the hell knew.

One of the small fairies next to him began to giggle and waved her hand. The pixies that had been keeping pace with them drifted downwards like luminescent snow until the path of flat stones through the water was illuminated. The stones were dark, almost invisible against the flowing water even with the light provided by the pixies. His eyes narrowed as he examined them. There wasn't even any froth to mark their location as the water split around them. If you didn't know exactly where they were you would never find them.

He had a feeling that even if he returned in broad daylight he wouldn't see the stones without a fairy by his side to point them out.

"Good enough?" Sam smirked and Dean had to restrain the urge to snap at him. He just grunted in answer and pushed in front of Sam, leading the way across. The sound of the water rushing past them wasn't loud enough to drown out his brother's sigh.

"Dean, we can just turn around and head back if you'd prefer."

He was torn. This was nuts, but it would be tough to give up this chance to get down and dirty, get a little revenge against some of the dark fae that had almost cost him everything. And he needed to see, with his own two eyes, that Titaniea's group was willing to take care of the dark fae.

But maybe the biggest reason he had gone along with this was because he needed to give his brother this chance to change Dean's mind. He had to at least try to see things the way Sam saw them, before he would allow himself to even think about having a hand in taking it all away.

And that right there, being willing to…maybe…rethink his view on the fae, was so at odds with the intractable hatred of supernatural creatures that Dad had instilled in him that it took his friggin breath away. And not in any goddamned good way.

There was no getting around it. This was nuts.

"I didn't say I wanted to pull out," he bit out. "I would just be happier if we were out here taking care of this with Dad and Travis."

"And how would that work, dude?" Sam hissed, moving up to walk next to him. "We don't know where the spriggans are or how to attract them to us. You ready to search this whole forest?" There was annoyance on Sam's face when Dean turned to look at him, but something else too. Sadness.

"We should have at least called Dad, Sam. To let him know we were heading into the forest." Leaving their assigned position, walking into something potentially dangerous without calling Dad, broke more rules than he could count.

"He would have insisted on meeting up with us, and this group would be long gone before he got here. Along with our chances of getting rid of the spriggans tonight," Sam said flatly. Dean couldn't argue the point. Sam was right. Sam's voice was quiet when he continued. He sounded tired. "Why are you here, Dean? Why did you agree to this?"

Dean just shook his head. He was having too tough a time explaining it to himself to even try to explain it to Sam. He settled on scowling at his little brother. "If you get hurt out here I swear I'll kill you, bitch."

The line of fae in front of them came to a halt and Dean's pulse jumped in anticipation. He was ready for a little action. Anything to distract him from the conflicting thoughts that were bouncing around in his head and making his brain hurt.

Titaniea dismounted and came to stand in front of them. A small smile tugged at her lips and there was a glitter of excitement in her eyes that Dean could definitely relate to. "They approach. You are comfortable with the weapons we have provided?"

Sam turned the silver short sword from side to side in his hand, the fireflies' light illuminating the runes etched into the wicked looking blade. "Oh yeah," he said with a fierce grin. His little brother could deny it all he wanted, but Dean saw those hunter's instincts the would-be geek tried to hide.

The elf lifted two makeshift necklaces into the air in front of them, placing one over each brother's head. Three twigs bound together by red string rested in the center of their chests, dangling from a loop of red ribbon. "Oak, ash, and thorn for protection," she said softly.

A small fairy moved silently in front of them, removing the lid from a tiny crystal bowl before holding it up as though offering it to them. The green cream inside was redolent with the scents of the world around them and Dean looked from it to the fairy queen. "Okay, I give up. What is it? Am I supposed to eat it or something? Cause lady, that ain't happening." He didn't miss the questioning look that Titaniea shot at this brother.

"It's an ointment that'll let us see past any glamours the spriggans might use, Dean," Sam explained. He dipped his finger into the cream and looked surprised when Dean grabbed his wrist as he lifted a small smear of the gunk towards his face.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean's eyes were wide and incredulous.

"It's okay Dean," Sam said softly. "I'm just going to put a little on my eyelids."

Dean just stared at his brother and saw the blush start to creep up Sam's cheeks until they were glowing red. Son of a bitch. A cold chill went down his back. The kid had used it before at some point and not told him that little tidbit. Well, he might have postponed the ass-kicking that he deserved for doing it without back up, but Dean was a firm believer in better late than never in cases like this. "We'll discuss this later," he said evenly as he released Sam's wrist. He turned to Titaniea. "I thought you did some mojo so we could see everything now?"

"I could only grant you the ability to see past the images that we control. The ointment is necessary for you to see past all other tricks and barriers. We offer it as a courtesy and so that you might best be prepared to protect yourself…" her green eyes narrowed "…and your brother."

Well she sure as hell knew what buttons to push. He scowled as he dipped the tip of his finger into the green cream and then looked at his brother. Sam just nodded once and then smoothed the cream over his own eyelids, Dean following his example a second later. A brief sensation of warmth spread from the cream and he opened his eyes to find Sam watching him.

"Well?"

Dean looked around, his eyes running over the fairies around them. They were unsheathing weapons and tying their hair back. Titaniea had returned to her horse and remounted in one smooth graceful movement. "Everything looks the same," he whispered. "Maybe I'm immune?"

"Don't look at them, you twit. They already gave you the ability to see them. Look around." Sam cocked his head at the woods in back of them.

The forest around them was more open than Dean was used to, underbrush in clumps breaking up the space between the trees, but by no means dominating it. Wildflowers twined along the forest floor and lush ferns surrounded the bases of many trees. The sound of night birds in the canopy joined the hum of insects. Somewhere off to their left water whooshed in a rushing stream, a counterpoint to the stream they had crossed on their right. The night was fragrant and alive, the plants lush and vibrant.

And even though it was closing in on midnight and only a sliver of moon hung in the sky, he could see it all perfectly well, a hazy and indistinct glow covering everything. It was almost like the small pool of radiance that had kept pace with them had bled outwards, stretching far and wide through the forest in every direction, but this wasn't centered around Titaniea's group. This light was coming from the trees and bushes themselves.

"Why do I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore?" he murmured softly.

"I think that's why we couldn't see it without the ointment. This is…I don't know…a part of faerie? My guess would be since we crossed the stream. Maybe it's the area between the two streams." Sam shrugged. "The magic here probably goes beyond even Titaniea. I don't think they control this."

Sam's head swiveled from side to side, the wonder on his face making him look even younger than his eighteen years. He looked like he belonged here, with his long hair, the sword in one hand and the rowan club in the other. He had a grace like the fae's and looked as much a warrior as them. An inexplicable sense of loss filtered through him when he realized that Sam seemed more at home here than he was in the cabin with his Dad and his brother. Dean's throat tightened and he had to clear it before he could talk.

"Is it safe for us to be here? I've heard the stories, Sam. People disappear into faerie."

"And there are a lot of stories of people just visiting for a short while with no problem. Dude, if they wanted to snatch us they could have just done it. I think this is probably just the safest place for them to fight the spriggans without endangering people."

Dean nodded and effectively dropped the subject by giving his own short sword a couple of tentative swings, testing its balance. Nice. Maybe he could negotiate to keep it.

Yeah, and how was he going to explain it to Dad? The thought was a cold wake up call. If Dad knew what they were doing… He buried the guilt deep, where it couldn't get in the way of this fight. He'd have to come up with a story to explain how he and Sam managed to have an encounter with the spriggans in the woods. They couldn't hide it. They'd have to let Dad know the spriggans were taken care of. Great. He loved the idea of adding another layer of lies between him and Dad.

In the distance the soft baying of hounds interrupted the night songs. Once heard, they grew steadily louder. In front of them the elves were spreading themselves out, covering the area between the streams with their weapons ready. This was not the usual Winchester hunt. They weren't going out to look for the spriggans, the spriggans were being driven towards them.

"It must be like a funnel," Sam said softly as though he was reading Dean's mind. "The spriggans are lower level fae. They won't cross a wide, fast, stream."

The hunting dogs were getting closer, the excited edge to their baying becoming easier to hear. The brothers stepped away from each other, giving themselves room to wield their weapons.

Another sound was growing also, one that had the hair on Dean's arms standing on end. A mix of hisses, gibbering, muttering, whispers. Dark and low, growing in volume. It wasn't just the hair on his arms that was rising, it felt like every hair on his body was springing up. And they were all yelling at him that he should grab his brother and get the hell out of there.

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He'd heard the sound before, when the creatures were arrayed in front of him, climbing him, and he shuddered at the memory. The voice of the spriggans was repugnant…wrong…and it awoke a primitive fear buried inside of him. It was not at all reassuring that the smaller childlike fairies had retreated somewhere out of sight as though the cold whispers had frightened them away. Sam glanced to the left, reassuring himself that his brother was there, at his side. A primal response, seeking comfort.

Dean's jaw was clenched, a determined look on his face as he held the sword ready, the iron knife in his other hand. He had also edged a bit closer to Sam, his intent to protect his brother lighting a small spark of warmth in Sam's belly.

Dark forms began to dart through the trees in front of them, skittering, scrambling from one shadow to another. Their gait was ungainly but deceptively quick as they came closer and closer. Only a handful were visible at first, moving in ones and twos. Then a dozen, two dozen. More. Groups of small dark bodies, clumped together and running from the baying hounds. Sam's mouth went dry when he realized that many were holding weapons, crude spears and clubs. Nothing as fine as the Elven weapons, but deadly looking nonetheless.

He'd known when Titaniea mentioned the spriggans gathering in the area that they wouldn't just be facing the small group they'd seen at the lake. But he hadn't imagined anything like this. He couldn't have imagined anything like this outside of a nightmare.

The fae on horseback were riding out into the trees, heading towards larger groups of the creatures, breaking them up. Their swords gleamed as they slashed downwards, knocking spriggan weapons aside and cutting the creatures down. Their horses pranced and kicked, doing almost as much damage as their riders as they protected the light fae from attack. Elves on the ground moved swift and sure, their bows singing, swords and daggers finding their targets. It would have been easy work if there were fewer spriggans, it was only their number that evened the match.

A dark creature leapt for Sam from the cover of a low bush but never made it close, Dean's sword sweeping it out of the air. Dean's eyes widened at the ease of using the fae weapon and he grinned at Sam. "Nice!"

Sam just rolled his eyes. Leave it to Dean to think this was fun. He lashed out with the rowan staff, viciously batting away a spriggan that had been creeping towards Dean, hitting it with such force that when the creature hit the ground it didn't get back up. He turned towards his brother, raising his eyebrows and twisting his mouth, the message clear. Enough being wowed by the new toy.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean smirked and twirled to his left, a jab with the knife followed by a swing of the sword as two approached from that direction.

The baying of the hounds died out as the dogs waded into the mix, circling around behind the numerous skirmishes to bring down spriggans that made it past the party of hunters. They were not a breed that Sam could identify, similar in look to greyhounds but slightly stockier. Their short coats were so light they almost looked silver. They moved with incredible grace and were strikingly beautiful until their lips curled up in vicious snarls. Then they were downright scary. Not something you wanted to have on the end of a leash on a dark night.

The first time Sam swung his own sword he understood Dean's reaction. It was light enough to be wickedly maneuverable and not cause fatigue, but heavy enough to feel perfectly balanced and reassuring in his hand. And the blade…it was a little disconcerting just how easily the blade sliced through the spriggans.

But he appreciated its deadly sharpness as more of the dark creatures circled the brothers, their low muttering an obscene undercurrent running through the night around them. Sam swung the rowan staff to knock aside a spear jabbing towards his chest, his sword finishing the creature and immediately swerving to the right to knock another out of the air before it could land on him, its lips pulled back in a dark smile. He could hear Dean grunting with effort in back of him and realized that the two of them had subconsciously shifted so that they were fighting almost back to back, protecting each other's blind spots.

Two more came at him and he sliced at one with the sword as he held the other at bay with the staff. He frowned when the spriggan at the end of the staff dodged around it and kept on coming. It was bigger than any of the others he'd seen, and seemed both stronger and faster. He barely got the sword back up in time to stop it as it skittered towards him. The thought that some of the creatures might be a little tougher and smarter than the others sent a chill down his spine. If that creature had had a weapon…

The remainder of the small group surrounding them closed in and the next few minutes were a flurry of moves with both the staff and the sword. Dean remained a solid wall of protection at his back and Sam lost himself to the fight. When things calmed down the ground around them was littered with small gruesome bodies.

"You okay?" Dean's voice was quick and sharp, an edge of adrenaline fueled excitement to it.

Sam scanned the area around him. It was clear of threats at the moment and he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "Yeah, I'm good. Be careful. Some of them are a little tougher than the rest."

"Yeah, I noticed," Dean snickered as he held his arm out to the side where Sam could see it without turning around. A thin line of blood was welling up across his forearm. "Stay sharp," Dean warned.

Dean leaned back, resting his back against Sam's as he relaxed for a moment. The pressure against Sam's back shifted slightly, and he knew Dean was watching Titaniea and the others. "Damn," he whistled out softly. "They're pretty deadly when they want to be, aren't they." There was a deep wariness, bordering on suspicion, mixed in with the respect in Dean's voice and Sam's stomach rolled.

Some of the fae were searching through the trees, seeking out the creatures. Where individual battles were being waged they looked like choreographed dances. The light fae were deadly speed and grace, their weapons glittering eerily in the open spaces of the shadowy forest. They were in constant motion, beautiful in their rage. The mounted fae had climbed off of their horses after scattering the larger groups of spriggans, and Sam watched as the fae queen wielded her sword with breathtaking power.

"Dean…we could never have gotten rid of the spriggans without them. Even with Dad and Travis here…no way man. There's too many. We'd have been mincemeat." Sam spoke quietly over his shoulder, keeping his tone even.

Dean just grunted in response and Sam wondered what his reply would have been if a wave of the hideous creatures hadn't come tearing through the trees next to them. The group looked like it just wanted to escape and was not expecting to find its path blocked by the Winchesters. The boys shifted to face them and the spriggans stood motionless for a second, jostling and pushing at each other, their voices gaining volume as their unease over the unexpected roadblock grew.

He could see the moment when they recognized that the brothers were not fae. Their nervousness dropped away, replaced by bloodthirsty glee. They didn't look like they were set on escape any more. They looked like they wanted to tear the hunters apart.

"Oh crap," Sam mouthed softly, his throat dry. Dean was practically vibrating next to him, ready for the fight.

The creatures came at them in a rush and Dean pushed Sam to the side when a sharpened stick was jabbed towards them. Dean's arm was already moving as he threw himself out of the way in the other direction and the armed spriggan screamed in pain on the end of Dean's blade.

Sam was off balance, falling to one knee. He immediately swept the staff along the ground in front of him, knocking the feet out from under the small swarm of creatures that had fixed on him. It wasn't enough to take them out, but it gave him a chance to regain his feet. He didn't wait for them to regroup, wading forward with the sword swinging as they were still scrambling.

He could feel small dark fingers reaching for him, plucking at his pants legs, and his skin crawled. He slashed the staff down without even looking and heard their howled protests as their grip was broken. Their complaints ended abruptly when Sam twirled towards them, the sword leading the way. A quick glance confirmed that Dean was holding his own, his mouth curved up in a slightly manic grin.

Sam thanked God for every moment of sparring practice that he'd been forced into when he dodged a wooden cudgel aimed at his stomach and smoothly lashed a foot out in a side kick, sending the spriggan flying away. Another instantly took its place, snatching up the dropped club. Sam barely pulled his leg back in time, the heavy wood whistling through the air where his ankle had been a moment before. If it had connected it would have crippled him. The creature's grip on the club pulled it off balance and Sam took advantage of the opening, stabbing with the sword.

The top of the staff had dipped down when he tilted during the sidekick, and small hands were clutching at it now, pulling insistently. The creature held tight when Sam yanked the top of the staff back into the air and Sam found himself face to face with the spriggan's pained grin as it rode the staff upwards. Touching the rowan hurt it, but it was determined to reach Sam. It eagerly let go of the rowan branch with one of its hands as it neared, reaching for Sam's face.

"Shit!" He swung the staff like a baseball bat and smashed the spriggan against a tree. It fell to the ground in a boneless heap and he grimaced at the smear of dark blood left across the top of the staff. He didn't have time to worry about it before he was spinning back away from the tree, the sword slicing through the spriggan he'd seen out of the corner of his eye. A quick spin back to the left and the spriggan he had kicked away impaled itself on the end of his blade as it leapt towards him.

A heavy weight hit his left hip, latching on and beginning to climb, and Sam's mind stuttered backwards, away from the unclean feel of little hands clutching, of rough dry flesh and tufts of coarse hair rubbing over his skin where his T shirt had hiked up. The black face looked up at him and grinned, a string of sibilant whispers coming from between its thin black lips as it pulled itself higher. His eyes darted back and forth between the nightmare crawling up his body and the creatures at his feet that he was holding off with the staff.

"Get off! Get off! Get off!" He thought he could be excused if his voice was a little higher pitched than normal when he reached across his body and slashed at the hideous creature with his sword. The first hit opened a gaping and bloody furrow across the black face but it never stopped smiling. Or climbing. It took two more hits before its hands released and it fell to the ground.

He couldn't process this right now. He shut down the part of his brain that had retreated to a dark corner and was trying to hide from the horror of the blood and death surrounding them.

The band of spriggans had been thinned, but the brothers were tiring. A rush of relief swept through Sam when one of the fae hounds joined into the fray, its strong jaws closing around a dark throat before moving on to another.

"SAM!" His head swiveled at Dean's warning cry and he threw himself to the side, the short spear that had been about to skewer him just skimming along his ribs with a quick burn. His sword arm reacted instinctively and the threat was gone.

He swiveled his head towards Dean and the grateful smile froze in place. Dean must have started towards him as he yelled the warning, distracted. There was nothing Sam could do but watch as a large spriggan landed on Dean's back. One hand tangled in Dean's hair, the other reaching around and ready to tear at Dean's throat. Sam was in motion without conscious thought. Only a few feet separated them, but he knew he wouldn't be in time.

A blur of silver passed him and launched itself into the air. The hound hit Dean from behind, its mouth closing around the spriggan's reaching arm. Dean fell forward, his shoulder and the side of his head hitting one of the trees dotted around them. The hound held tight to the spriggan's arm as Dean slumped to the ground and then Sam was there, sliding his sword into the dark creature's body with a cry of rage.

A second hound joined them, the two animals going into a frenzy to hold off the spriggans that had begun converging on their spot. Sam turned his back on his brother's still form, sword and staff both working to fight off the greedy creatures. Terror fueled his movements right up until a soft voice spoke his name.

He twisted to the side and looked at the ground behind him and relief was so strong his knees went weak. Dean had rolled onto his side and was scowling as he blinked his eyes. He wasn't steady, but he was moving, attempting to sit up.

The moment of inattention was all the opening another of the larger spriggans needed. He heard Dean spit out a violent curse and then a solid weight was smashing into Sam's exposed back, sending him flying.

He landed on the soft layer of leaf litter and mosses that cushioned the forest floor in faerie and rolled onto his back. Vining wildflowers crushed in his fall released their scent into the night air, a soft perfume that he could barely smell. Because he could barely breathe. The agony in his back spread to his chest and he couldn't seem to make his lungs work, his diaphragm uninterested in doing its duty. His body felt disconnected and he was only hazily aware of Dean surging to his feet, the powerful swing of his sword lifting the spriggan who had clubbed Sam into the air. Little sucker had been strong. And sneaky. Sam almost giggled to himself. Walked softly and carried a biiiiig stick.

But not as big or as scary as the evil thing scuttling towards him with a wicked looking spear raised high. Sam was in a haze, detached, as he watched the creature near, its eyes locked on his and a dark smile on its face. God he hated the way these things whispered when they got excited. Its arm began to move forward, thrusting the spear, its entire face lit up with unholy joy. Dean wouldn't be there in time. He might resemble Superman sometimes, but he was only a man.

"NO!" The scream that rent the night was inhuman in its power and its rage. The blade of a sword flashed through the air in front him, a blur of speed that only allowed him a glimpse of its unearthly glow, the flash of jewels set in near the hilt. The spriggan practically disintegrated in front of him, its spear turned into harmless matchsticks. His eyes drifted upwards and fixed on Titaniea's face, gorgeous and terrifying.

Dean dropped to his knees next to him, a small trickle of blood running down his temple. His mouth was moving but Sam wasn't sure what he was saying, soft murmurs that ran together into a comforting hum. Damn. He really didn't want to have to tell his brother that he couldn't breathe again.

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"Sam? Sammy? Talk to me bro. C'mon buddy. I've seen you take worse hits than that before. You're just being lazy now. C'mon Sammy, just tell me what hurts. What's going on kiddo?" He knew he was emitting a non-stop stream of babble but he couldn't seem to make his mouth stop. The words were keeping him focused, keeping the panic at bay. Because that panic was a persistent bitch, nipping at his heels. He was telling the truth when he said he'd seen Sam take harder hits. So for this one to have him just laying there, his face creased with pain and his mouth open…

Oh no. No no no. He couldn't breathe again. The words broke off and the panic rushed in. His face must have shown the change because Sam's hand reached up, clasping his arm in a reassuring grip. He shook his head when Dean reached for his shoulders to help him sit up and he lifted the hand that wasn't holding onto Dean, raising his index finger in a bid for patience.

Sam couldn't breathe but he wanted Dean to be patient? Was he on drugs?!

A shallow inward breath was the first sign of Sam's chest moving and he used the air to push a word out. "Wind…" Another breath, another two words. "…knocked out."

It felt like Dean was the one who'd had the wind knocked out of him. He sank downwards until his butt was resting on his heels, the hand still on Sam's shoulder closing into a brutal grip. Sam didn't even twitch away from his bruising fingers, instead releasing his hold on Dean's arm to begin patting it, trying to calm his big brother.

Christ. His shoulder hurt, his head hurt, and his right eye was twitching and blurring from tears caused by the stinging skin on his temple. And all he could feel was relief because the movements of Sam's chest were growing deeper and stronger with each second that passed.

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The apples of the valley hold, The seeds of happiness,
The ground is rich from tender care, Repay, do not forget, no, no.
Dance in the dark of night, sing to the morning light.

The apples turn to brown and black, The tyrant's face is red.

Oh war is the common cry, Pick up your swords and fly.
The sky is filled with good and bad that mortals never know.

Oh, well, the night is long, the beads of time pass slow,
Tired eyes on the sunrise, waiting for the eastern glow.

"The Battle of Evermore" Led Zeppelin

A/N: Don't know if you picked up on it, but my writing OCD is showing in this chapter. LOL Yeah, I actually looked it up to find out what the phase of the moon was around this date in 2001.

Yes, we are nearing the end of this segment of the Battle of Evermore. I'm not sure exactly how I'll break the rest up. Either one or two more chapters, and then an epilogue. I won't know until I'm done writing them. LOL