Chapter 12

"Does it seem weird to you that there are no bees?"

Andrea stopped dead in her tracks. Surely she hadn't heard that correctly. She turned to glare at Shane, a sour expression on her face. "Come again?"

"Bees, Andrea. There aren't any bees, and it's May. There should be bees." He stated solemnly. As if he actually expected her to care.

She crossed her arms and tried her best to exude the most sarcastic and condescending attitude she could muster, despite the fact that she was completely freaked out.

"Shane, we're stuck in a giant, endless field of pink freaking flowers. We've been walking for at least a half an hour and we can still see the library door…and you think it's weird because there areno bees?"

True to her statement, they had indeed been walking in what they felt was a straight line for at least thirty minutes (although both of their watches had stopped, so it was impossible to tell), and upon turning around they had found that they could still clearly see the library door…less than ten feet from where they stood.

They had tried to open the door again, but found that it wouldn't budge…and then the door handle had turned to liquid in Shane's hands, leaving them without a way to pick the lock. Since then, the pair had decided to try walking in different directions, running in different directions, and calling for help.

But still, there they stood, ten feet from the library door. And yes, there were no bees.

"Well, yeah, I know that's weird, but I'm just saying. It's a field of flowers, in May. There should be bees." Shane said, rather calmly Andrea noticed.

At first, Andrea thought her partner might be in mental shock from their strange circumstances, but upon further inspection, she could find no other obvious signs of it. No shaking hands, no sweating, no loss of color. She then began to wonder if her partner was simply insane, but that theory wasn't holding any water either, the more she thought about it. So that left one other option. Shane had settled into their situation rather comfortably, and was just making a statement based on logical observation of their most illogical surroundings…which was the most disturbing of all her conclusions to his behavior.

"Shane, you're not bothered at all by this, are you?" She asked pointedly.

He turned towards her, a strange look in his eyes. "Why would I be bothered by all this, Andrea?"

Something in his tone made her step back a pace…something wasn't right about it.

"Well, how about the fact that it's not normal, for starters."

"Normal is a relative term, my dear." Shane said.

Except it wasn't Shane anymore. His eyes had dark vertical slits, where round pupils should have been, and his skin had turned an ugly shade of bluish-green. Andrea gasped, "What…who are you?"

"I am everything you see, hear, and feel." He swept an arm outwards to indicate their surroundings. Shane's form rippled along with the field they stood in. Suddenly they were standing in a forest of dark, lifeless trees. "Welcome home, Andrea."

He grinned. Andrea screamed and turned to run, but found herself falling instead.

Downward, twisting, turning, screaming. Farther and farther she fell as complete and utter darkness took its hold, blanketing her in its cold depth. Her flailing arms soon found that there were walls of slime on either side of her, and she dug in with every ounce of strength she possessed to try and stop the descent. Unfortunately her finger found no purchase, only letting loose giant globs of nameless, colorless goo to join her in her downward climb.

She screamed until she had no voice left, but still she fell, unsure of what would greet her at the bottom…or if there was a bottom.

Falling, tumbling, down, down, down, until time lost all meaning. She fell for minutes, hours, week, or years. It was all the same.

Andrea forgot what standing was like, what walking, or lying down was like. She forgot about light and flowers, and Shane. She forgot about everything. Everything…except for falling.

And that was when the falling stopped.

"Dude, you have got to lay off the burgers."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Dean, I don't eat burgers that much, remember? You're the beef hound."

The two boys stumbled along in the endless snow, the older supporting the younger as best he could. They were huffing and puffing like steam engines at this point.

"Alright, hold up Sammy, I gotta stop for a second." Dean wheezed. Walking in snow was hard work, almost worse than walking in sand, Dean thought. They had been trudging for God knew how long, and there was still nothing in sight except snow.

"Yeah, I could use a rest myself. My side is killing me." Sam said, as his brother gently helped him to the ground.

Dean flopped down in the snow beside his brother, flat on his back. He laid there for a second, just catching his breath. Thoughts of the events leading up to this moment began to flash in his mind.

"Sam, when I was…captured, before. You know, in the closet. I thought…I could have sworn…" Dean began. Somehow, he just didn't know how to get it out. He knew Sam would think he was losing it.

"What? What did you think?" Sam prompted, his curiosity now piqued. It was a rare moment when Dean decided to share anything personal with him, and he wasn't one to pass up an opportunity.

Dean cleared his throat, obviously unsure of how to continue. "Well, I thought…I heard Dad."

Sam blinked. "Dad? You thought you heard, like what…a ghost?"

"No, dude. Well, yeah maybe. I don't know. It was weird, he…told me you were in trouble. Said you needed my help." Dean said. Best to skip the scared-to-death-of-rodents part, he thought.

"I was in…what kind of trouble? Was he talking about the…you know, the deal?" Sam asked, suddenly finding something very interesting about his hands.

Dean propped himself up on his elbows, looking intently at his younger brother. "What? The deal? Why would he say you needed my help about the deal?"

Sam shrugged, not really willing to give eye contact just yet. "I don't know…I mean, you…you'll be…I'll have to do all this by myself." He managed. He just couldn't bring himself to say those words, but he could sure think them. Over and over again…'You'll be dead.'

He felt his brother shift to a sitting position beside him. "Sam, look. I know this deal thing is hard. And I won't apologize for doing what I thought was best for you," Sam started to protest his brother's words, but Dean cut him off, "no, just listen for a second. What I'm trying to say…is that you're a good hunter, you'll be fine."

Sam shook his head. How come those words sounded so recorded? How could Dean be so blind to the fact that Sam needed him? Sure, he could hunt. He wasn't the best, but he could hunt. That wasn't the point.

"Dean, I'm not talking about hunting. I'm talking about…" He struggled to find the word, "…about everything. Life, existence, every day." He turned to look at Dean, who was looking considerably uncomfortable. "Dean, I've lost everyone and everything I ever cared about…except you. Jess, Dad, Mom, my diploma…my friggin' delusions of a normal life for crying out loud! And now? Now you too, and for what? Because I was too distracted to hear a six foot guy in combat boots, with a knife, slopping through the mud behind me?" Sam's hands were trembling now with the adrenaline of actually saying this out loud. How long had he been holding this inside? Seemed like a decade or so.

Dean was shaking his head, looking completely dumbfounded. Was this what his father had meant? All this emotional crap that Sam had managed to wrap himself up in…for how long? "Sam…this isn't your fault."

"Why not? Because you say so?" Sam was starting to sound a little angry now, but Dean couldn't tell whether it was directed at himself or his brother. Either way, he wasn't taking the bait.

"No Sam, because it's the truth." He said, standing to his feet.

"The truth? Dean, the truth is that I screwed up. And now you're paying for it…" He looked up at Dean, angry tears welling in those giant puppy dog eyes, "…like you always do."

That caught Dean a little off guard. Sam's words hit hard, and that surprised Dean, because until that moment, he wouldn't have thought it true.

Sam continued, finally feeling able to release some of the pressure that had been building over the past few months, "You're always having to pay for somebody else's mistake, Dean…for my mistakes, and it's not fair. If anyone deserves the pit, it's m-"

"Don't you dare say that!" Dean cut his brother off before he'd had the chance to finish his sentence. His voice was on the edge of dangerous, and Sam noticed. Dean knelt and took hold of Sam's collar, getting as close to his brothers face as he felt comfortable with, "Sam, I've spent my entire life taking care of you. First, because I had to, but then because I wanted to."

He let the words sink in for a minute before going on. Sam needed to hear this now, because if Dean didn't get it out now, he never would.

"You're a grown man now Sammy, you don't need me, not really. But that will never change the fact that it is my life's work to take care of you. Everyone screws up, and God knows I've made my share of mistakes…but if I had to do it over again, Sam so help me, I would." He looked Sam square in the eyes, "Don't you ever forget that Sam. Hell doesn't hold a candle to the kind of torture it would be for me to know that you were there instead…so don't you ever say that again."

He stood back up and held a hand out for Sam. He waited, knowing it would take Sam a minute to absorb his brother's statements. Dean usually didn't spring for the whole deep, heart felt conversations. He would usually say it was because it made him feel like a chick, or something. But he knew the real reason was because it uncovered those most vulnerable parts of himself to another person, which left him open to get hurt, and that was something that hunters just didn't do. It was something he'd gotten wounded doing before, and he'd learned from it. This was an extenuating circumstance, though, because the kind of thing Sam had been about to say, was the kind of pain that overruled all else. Thus, in his own defense, he'd had to open himself up, just for a second.

Finally, Sam took his hand, and groaned as Dean hauled him to his feet.

They looked around in uneasy silence for a minute before deciding to continue walking in what they presumed was a North-ish direction.

*WHUMP*

Both brothers whirled around at the unexpected sound, ready for anything, as the glistening puff of snow settled back to the earth. Dean held his knife at the ready, and Sam was crouched in a combat stance, which was rather painful, but necessary.

However, neither of them were prepared for what greeted them.

They looked at each other, and then back at the girl that lay sprawled where she had fallen in the snow bank. She appeared to be unconscious…and she also appeared awfully familiar.

Dean's grip on his weapon tightened, as the muscles in his jaw worked. Oh, this was just too much. He ground out her name, forcing it to come through his teeth.

"Andrea."