Chapter 7

He knew that Sam was beside him, but he couldn't seem to move or speak or give any indication whatsoever that he was alive. He hoped Sam didn't think he was dead. It would suck to have to dig himself out of his own grave again.

"Just hang in there, Dean."

The words sounded almost as floaty as Dean felt. But how was he supposed to hang in anywhere when he couldn't even move?

"It's almost over."

He knew that was true. He could feel himself slipping back down into the abyss already, and Sam's voice was sounding farther and farther away. He knew it wouldn't be long now until he was too far down to ever come back.

Yet Sam was still right there beside him. Was he falling, too?

That thought gave Dean the will to fight again. If he was falling with Sam right beside him, that meant he was pulling Sam down with him! He couldn't let that happen. He tried to lift himself up, but his muscles wouldn't respond. They began to tremble instead, and the harder he tried to move, the more they shook.

"Whoa, Dean... calm down, okay? I'm right here."

He felt hands on his arms, holding him down as the shaking grew worse and worse. At first he was afraid it was someone trying to prevent his escape or push him even further down into the pit, but then he remembered... Sam was there.

"I'm right here."

He was right there.

"Just stay with me, Dean."

To the end, Sam.

But then the end was over. The fog began to lift from his mind. He could hear voices... two he recognized, and one he didn't. But the unfamiliar one didn't bother him - it was the fact that one of the voices sounded just like Ruby that broke through the remaining fog and made him try to crack open his eyes.

"Sam?"

He felt a rush of movement at his side, and his eyes opened just in time to see Sam's face - Sam's very relieved-looking face - appear in front of him. "Hey, Dean. How are you feeling?"

Dean did a somewhat sluggish mental inventory. The fog was almost completely gone now, aside from a slight buzz. He remembered floating, and he remembered falling into Hell, but it all seemed like it happened years ago. He felt cold, he felt lightheaded, he felt a dull pain in his side, he felt... "Hungry."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, I bet. You've been out of it for almost a full day."

Dean went to sit up, but he found that he couldn't move his hands. Then he remembered the feeling of being restrained during all the floating and falling. "Hands?" he said.

"Right. Sorry."

Sam quickly untied his hands and feet and helped Dean up into a sitting position. The room spun around a few times, but soon settled back into place. Dean looked around for the source of the other voices, but the room seemed to be empty aside from him, Sam, and a pile of cops.

A pile of cops?

"What happened?"

Sam followed his gaze and gave him a sheepish look. "Long story," he said. "We should probably get out of here as soon as you're able to walk."

"Here?" Dean wasn't sure he trusted his memory to tell him where they were, so he didn't even bother to consult it.

"Yeah, that old barn? Remember, we came to town to figure out why people were going crazy?"

Dean nodded slowly. "Oh, that."

"Turned out to be mosquitoes."

"Mosquitoes?" Dean raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. "I got bit," he said, finally understanding.

"Yeah." Sam looked like he wanted to say more, but that was all that came out. Even barely aware of his surroundings, Dean could still tell when the guy was hiding something.

"Did I hear Ruby a minute ago?" he asked point-blank. He knew Sam would never tell him anything like that any other way.

Sure enough, Sam looked reluctant to speak for a second. "Uh... yeah. I needed someone to help take care of you while I tracked down the guy doing the spellwork, so..."

"You got a demon to babysit me?" Dean's anger and revulsion at the thought woke him up good.

"No one else could get into town," Sam said apologetically.

"So where is she now?"

"She took Gavin, um... spellwork guy... back to his place to, uh... dispose of all of his equipment and spell books."

"She gonna burn the place down?"

"Pretty much." Sam chuckled. "She used some of her demon mojo on him, too, just to put the fear of God in him. Well... fear of Satan, I guess." Sam's smile disappeared when he saw the black look Dean was giving him. He cleared his throat and nodded. "So that and the fact that the mosquitoes dropped dead from biting me freaked him out enough that I don't think we need to worry about him seeking revenge through spellwork anymore."

Dean tilted his head in curiosity. "They dropped dead? Why?"

Sam looked nervous for a moment, but he shook his head and shrugged. "I'm guessing the demon blood," he said, attempting nonchalance. "When I stopped to think about it, mosquitoes have never really bothered with me, even when I was a kid."

Dean hadn't really thought about it before, but now that Sam mentioned it, he figured he had a point. Still, there was something about the whole situation that was making Sam act all sketchy. He wanted to ask what it was, but his head was starting to hurt, and it was probably just the whole freak-of-nature thing anyway.

"Think you can stand?" Sam asked, reaching out to help Dean to his feet.

"Always." Dean allowed Sam to haul him up, leaning on him heavily as he teetered back and forth on his unsteady legs.

Sam helped him over to the door, then picked up both of their packs and swung them over his shoulders. When he had them set, he took Dean's arm and opened the barn door. "Ready to go?"

Dean nodded and they stepped outside, Dean focusing all his energy on placing one foot in front of the other. "There'd better not be any more bugs," he murmured as they started their long trek into the woods.

The End