Chapter 2
The sparks danced below his feet. Just a couple more minutes and Dean could smother this fire. Scarlett Hampton's ghost had been causing more trouble than she was worth. For two months, kids all around town had been disappearing near the lake. Why did ghosts want to kill people the way they died? You'd think that they would want to spare people -especially kids- from the terrible fate they suffered. Ghosts were just a bunch of speed bumps on Sam and Dean's road.
It was time. Dean used his shovel to move dirt into the hole. Soon, the last of the flames were out and the grave was filled.
"Ok, Sammy, we're good here."
Dean turned to speak to his brother- expecting him to be on the edge of the lake- but Sam wasn't there. Brow furrowed, Dean raised his shovel and made his way to the water. If anything jumped out, he would be ready to attack, like he always was.
"Sam?"
Oh, man. The shovel. Dean ran to the dock, where one of the two shovels they owned sat on the wood.
"Crap," muttered Dean. Where was his brother? He looked around him, only to see nothing. Bubbles. Just for a second, quiet, clear bubbles glittered the surface of the dark pond.
"Shit," whispered Dean. Sam could be under, or it could be a fish. He burned the bones, so Scarlett was gone, but where was Sam? He decided to call for Sam a couple more times. No reason to get cold and wet if his brother was on dry land.
"Sam?! SAMMY!" There was no response.
The decision was obvious. Throwing off his heavy jacket, Dean took one last deep breath and dived into the water.
Ow. Cold! The sudden change in surroundings made Dean release a breath. Now he didn't have a lot of air left. The older Winchester had dived where the bubbles had come up, so if Sam was under water he should have been right under Dean. So he swam deeper. There was no sign of Sam. With outstretched arms, Dean reached out for any tough of his Sammy. His boots were really heavy, making it hard to paddle out, but down Dean went.
Dean was getting panicked after about 10 seconds. His breath was running out and there seemed to be no bottom to the pond. Just then, Dean's fingertips brushed by something that felt like fabric.
'Sammy?' Dean's heart jumped in his chest at the thought. Dean made a fist and grabbed a handful of cloth. What he pulled toward him was heavy. And limp. With just a touch, the older brother knew that this heavy, free-flowing mass was his Sammy. Dean felt around in the dark, cold, waters and wrapped his arm around Sam's chest. He could feel long hair brush against his arm, which made Dean's
heart lurch.
'Oh, God. Sam,' was all Dean thought as he took those first paddles upwards with his free right hand and heavy feet. This boy was huge.
It took about ten more seconds to drag Sam up to where the moonlight was clearer and brighter. If it wasn't for adrenaline, Dean would be going limp like his brother. Carrying Sam was hard enough. What made it more terrifying and painful was doing so with no air.
'Come on, Dean. Just a little more. For Sam.'
Dean motivated himself. His brain and lungs were on fire, but his love and protective instincts for the youngest Winchester were stronger than the pain.
Finally, the surface. The hunter realized that the air was only inches away, as his fingertips were exposed above the surface with one last paddle. He burst above the water, taking in the most painful and satisfying breath of his life. He held Sam's head upright, wanting to get his mouth and nose above water. The dock's ladder was in sight. Using all remaining energy and dedication, Dean pushed over the metal structure.
Putting one foot on the bottom rung, Dean pushed himself up.
"Come on, Sam." The young man was totally limp in Dean's arms. With sagging shoulders and bobbing head, Sam Winchester looked and felt like a ragdoll. Lifting Sam above the surface faced a problem The water had helped Dean lift his brother, but air didn't provide the same luxury. The oldest tightened his grip on Sammy and slung the soaked, limp body onto the wooden platform.
They had finally made it. Dean pulled himself onto the dock and dropped onto his back. He took several huge, relaxing breaths.
"Fun, huh, Sammy?" Dean chuckled, still gasping. "Huh? Dude," but Sam wasn't breathing. "Shit!"
Dean was on his knees and right up near Sam's face in a split second. His hand went over the brother's mouth and nose, searching for a breath, but none came. Dean's fingers jammed into Sam's neck, searching for a pulse, but the wet, cold skin was still.