Stay in the Light - Chapter 5
AUTHOR:Scullspeare
SUMMARY: Casefic. There's something out there in the dark, ripping its victims apart - and now it has Sam and Dean in its sights.
SPOILERS: Set Season 4-ish. A casefic which takes place in-between canon hunts.
DISCLAIMER: The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke & Co. I am playing in their sandbox, with their toys, with much gratitude.
RATING: T for some swearing.
WORD COUNT: 27K
GENRE: Gen/Hurt-Comfort/Adventure
Link back to Chapter 4 Here
STAY IN THE LIGHT - CHAPTER 5
"What's going on?" Dean looked past Donna to where Gus and Colin were now standing in front of Sam, talking.
Donna glanced over her shoulder after she finished taking Dean's pulse. "Looks like they're ready to get Sam out."
Dean's heart started racing and he grabbed Donna's sleeve. "How bad is it? And I want the truth."
"We're…cautiously optimistic." Donna held up her hand to cut off Dean as he was about to interrupt. "I know that sounds cliché but it's true. Sam's blood pressure and oxygen levels are good right now but-"
"You need to see what happens when you take all that weight off him." Dean swallowed. "He could still bottom out, right?"
"Don't go there." Donna squeezed his arm then pushed herself to her feet. "Whatever happens, we'll be right there to fight with him." She smiled, then returned to her partner's side.
"Okay, people. Let's do this."
As Gus issued that directive, his crew slipped into high gear like a well-oiled machine.
Hydraulic jacks had been placed under the beam on either side of Sam. As the miners used crowbars and brute strength to pull out the rocks and rubble holding it up, an engineer adjusted each jack so it continued to bear the weight and keep the beam off Sam.
Dean's attention was locked on the rescue efforts until a chill ripped through him and his breath frosted. His gaze snapped to the right and he stared past the worklights down the tunnel. There, just beyond the big lights, the spirits stood three abreast, watching the proceedings.
"Son of a bitch." Dean's curse came with the realization that his gun was still on the far side of the tunnel. He was pushing himself up to retrieve it when it hit him that the spirits weren't moving. They were squinting against the bright lights but their attention was riveted to the rescue under way.
Their hands were open, their arms relaxed at their sides. There was no sign of the pickaxes they'd used to bring down the tunnel. It hit Dean then that, if they'd wanted to, they could have easily smashed the two worklights, plunging the tunnel back into darkness. But, this time, there was nothing threatening about their stance or their actions.
"Okay, beam's clear. Grab hold and we lift it on three."
Dean's attention snapped back to Sam. His brother's legs were free and visible, and miners were lined up along the beam pinning him down, ready to lift it.
"One…two…three."
On three they lifted the beam with a collective grunt, carried it off to the side and dumped it on the ground next to the tunnel wall.
Sam was free.
The paramedics moved in and, once again, began assessing their patient.
Dean cast a quick glance up the tunnel-the spirits were still watching, but making no move to attack-then stumbled over to Sam. His brother's face was twisted in pain behind the oxygen mask. Donna was bandaging his thigh where a rapidly blossoming blood stain was soaking through his coveralls while Colin was using the stethoscope to listen to his heart and lungs. "Sammy?"
Sam looked up at Dean. He said nothing but his eyes clearly showed he was in pain.
'Your legs hurt?" Donna asked the question as she kept working.
Sam's only response was a curt nod.
"The blood's rushing back to them now that circulation's restored." Donna secured the bandage. "It should ease off soon, and the fluids we're giving you will help." The paramedic grabbed a pair of scissors and quickly cut through Sam's coveralls and his jeans to examine his legs. "You've got some pretty extensive bruising here but there are no obvious signs of broken bones. X-rays will tell us better, but let's hang on to that bit of good news for now." She smiled, checked her watch, then turned to the miners behind her. "Get the litter. I want him out of here and in the hospital ASAP."
Within minutes, they had Sam transferred to the litter, blankets bundled around him, and monitors and an oxygen tank stowed with him.
Dean retrieved one thing from his duffel, grabbed his gun, then gently but firmly pushed aside one of the six miners about to carry Sam's litter out of the mine.
Donna frowned worriedly. "Dean, you really should-"
"I'm doing this." Dean bent down, wrapped his hand around the metal tubing that formed the rim of the litter, and when the count of three came, lifted his brother off the ground and began walking toward the breach that would get them all to the surface.
He scanned the tunnel; there was no sign of the spirits. He didn't know what their game was but at this point he didn't care. He glanced down at his brother and nodded. "We're going home, Sammy."
xxxXXXxxx
Once on the surface, Donna and Colin gave Sam another thorough examination before strapping the litter onto the ATV that would take him off South Mountain and to the ambulance that was waiting on the nearest road.
By the time they were set to go, all the miners and the equipment were clear of the tunnel. Dean looked on in surprise as the miners gathered together just off to their right, dropped to one knee and bent their heads.
Donna smiled softly at Dean's expression. "They're tough S.O.B.'s, every single one of 'em, but, as they like to say, when you spend your day in Hell, it's good to have Heaven on your side. They're just saying thanks for a successful rescue."
Dean nodded slowly, then froze as he caught sight of the three spirit miners standing in the shadows beyond the group saying a prayer. He glanced down at his semi-conscious brother, his expression hardening at everything Sam had been through and would still face as part of his recovery, and fished the small black box from his pocket. "Gus," he shouted when the prayer finished. "All your men accounted for?"
When Gus nodded, Dean turned to Donna. "Gimme thirty seconds. I've got my own way of saying thanks, of making sure no one else gets hurt." He stumbled over to Sam, pulled back the blanket, and wrapped his brother's hand around the box, and his own hand around Sam's. He smiled as Sam looked up at him. "Let's end this, Sammy, for good."
Together, they pressed the first button on the detonator, then the second, then the third. The explosives they'd set earlier blew, the three initial blasts followed by a much larger one as the methane ignited. The ground beneath them rumbled, causing the miners to look up in surprise, and a column of dust and flame blew up through the breach from which they'd recently escaped. But Dean's attention was again locked on the spirits. Acceptance more than surprise was reflected in their strange white eyes as they faded from sight. The bones were burned; the spirits were gone.
Dean tucked Sam's arm back under the blanket, climbed aboard the ATV beside his brother, and held on as the machine roared to life and set off to rendezvous with the waiting ambulance.
xxxXXXxxx
"They were just watching us, Sammy. Making no move to attack."
"Didn't have to." Sam shifted, stiff after being bedridden for three days. The first two had been in the ICU as hospital staff monitored his heart and kidneys, the two organs most affected by the aftereffects of crush injuries. When further tests assured them he was stabilized, they'd moved him to his current room, and this was the first real chance the brothers had had to talk without a doctor or nurse hovering nearby. "You proved them wrong."
Dean frowned. "About what?"
"You came back."
Dean raised an eyebrow at that. "Like there was any doubt?"
Sam smiled. "Not from me, but from the spirits, yeah. No one came for them." His smile faded as his mind's eye replayed the confrontation with the ghost miners. "They told me you were dead, then they knocked out the lights…wanted me to know what it was like to be trapped in the dark, to die slowly knowing no one was coming for me. When you showed up…." He shook his head, still not fully believing the sight that had met him when he'd come to. "With a giant rescue party in tow no less…. I think it shocked the hell right out of them-literally ." Sam looked up at Dean and shrugged. "Maybe it reminded them of who miners really are…that what happened to them was the exception, not the rule."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Then tell me this, Mr. Hallmark Moment, why'd they'd let me go? Before I rode in on my white horse, they wanted both of us stuck in that hell for all eternity."
"They didn't let you go. They thought you were dead." Sam winced as he flexed his battered legs to push himself up. "You said yourself that the gas messed you up, that you weren't thinking straight. I think they watched you wander through those tunnels, believing you were as crazy as they were."
Dean looked nauseated at the memory. "Then just to prove their point, I take a header off that rock pile and knock myself out." He grinned at Sam. "Almost made it though."
"But to them you looked dead." Sam groaned as he reached for a cup of water on the stand at the side of the bed. "They couldn't cross the salt line, so they assumed the worst."
Dean crossed to the nightstand, picked up the cup and handed it to his brother.
Sam nodded his thanks. "Then Gus and his crew showed up, hauled you out, and started planning the big rescue. Maybe that's when they figured what I told them wasn't total bull after all."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Talking to ghosts again, Sammy? How many times have-"
"Wasn't like I had a whole lot of options." The laugh lines around Sam's eyes deepened as he grinned behind the cup. "Besides, it worked didn't it?"
"Well, there's that." Dean frowned as his brother squirmed in an attempt to get comfortable, then pressed the button on the bed to raise the head a bit more. "Maybe I should let you talk to Gus. I've still gotta explain why I needed all those lights for your rescue." He started pacing beside Sam's bed. "Not to mention, he was royally pissed we blew up the mine with all his men still on the mountain. Chewed me out but good for that. He sure as hell was in no mood to hear that three ghosts and a few skeletons in the closet were behind all the recent deaths.'"
"Gus is cool. We'll figure out something." Sam dropped his head back onto his pillow. "Maybe taking him a box of Molly's honeybuns would help."
"Couldn't hurt." Dean's expression turned serious as he looked down at Sam.
The bruising down his brother's face and left arm had turned a soft shade of purple. There was further bruising on this chest, but it was his legs, now hidden under the blankets, that had taken the brunt of the damage. Surprisingly, there were no broken bones but muscle and bone bruises made his thighs and shins look like raw liver. Doctors had prescribed short walks around the hospital several times a day to help prevent the muscles from stiffening up, but the pain etched in Sam's face with each step made no secret of how much it hurt.
"What's the latest from your docs? When can we spring you?"
Sam shifted impatiently. "Now's good. I'm sick of this place."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "So if I guard the door, you're ready to hop out bed, get dressed, and hightail it down the corridor?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, hightailing might be pushing it, but-"
"Fine. Keep your ass parked where it is 'til I get the full scoop from your doc." Dean shook his head at Sam's pleading expression. "And don't give me the puppy-dog look. I'm immune. You forget whose playing human crutch on those walks they insist you take every few hours? The pace you're moving, it'd take you a day and half to get to the elevators. Something tells me we might get stopped before then."
Sam scowled but offered no real fight. "What about you? Any aftereffects from the gas poisoning?"
Dean shook his head. "Got an all clear this morning. Good as new. We just need to get you pieced back together, then we're putting this town in our rear view mirror for good."
Sam played with the tubing of his IV. "When the spirits knocked the lights out and told me you were dead…." He exhaled audibly. "I thought …I thought that that was it. I wasn't getting out." Sam closed his eyes. "Damn, Dean…. I know exactly why they went crazy. To be stuck in the dark like that, to-" His eyes snapped open when he felt Dean's fingers close around his wrist.
"We got you out, Sam." It was one of those rare occasions when Dean's walls were down. "We were always gonna get you out."
Sam nodded slowly. "But, you know...thanks."
Dean cleared his throat and stepped back. "Okay, before this conversation degenerates into a total chick-flick moment, I am off to smooth things over with Gus. How many do you think it'll take?"
Sam frowned. "How many what?"
Dean scowled. "Pay attention. Honeybuns."
"Now if I didn't know you two were brothers, I'd swear there was something more between you, what with you calling Sam honeybuns, and all."
Dean's head snapped toward the doorway to see Miss Gwyn standing there, a mischievous grin on her face.
The librarian offered him a bakery box, tied with string. "Or perhaps these are what you were referring to. Fresh from Molly's kitchen."
Dean took the package and gave Miss Gwyn a mock scowl. "If these are what I think they are, I'm gonna forgive you for what you just implied." He shuddered for effect.
"Yes, well, I apologize for my off-color humor." Miss Gwyn shook her head as she walked into the room. "I was often in trouble as a girl for being saucy. I'm afraid that trait did not improve with age."
Sam smiled tiredly. "Nice to see you again, Miss Gwynn."
The librarian's smile faded. "Oh, you poor thing, look at you. They said half of South Mountain landed on top of you. How you are even breathing is a miracle in itself."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, it wasn't exactly half the mountain."
"Sam is still a hero in my book." Miss Gwyn bit back a smile as she saw Dean pull a face at his brother. "You both are. And, as such, I've come to express my gratitude before you disappear into the night, as mysterious heroes of legend usually do."
"Mysterious heroes. I like that." Dean glanced down at the box of pastries. "And thank you for these. Trust me, they'll hit the spot-even if I have to give half of them to Gus to stop him from throwing my ass, um…my butt behind bars for blowing up his mine."
Miss Gwyn gave a soft snort. "First, I think what you two did deserves a bit more than a box of pastries as a thank you. When you're ready to leave, you'll find your hospital bills have been taken care of."
Sam's eyes widened. "Miss Gwyn, we can't let you-"
"Oh, hush." The librarian gently but firmly silenced Sam's objections. "I still have a little pull around here, and this hospital has funds set aside for helping deserving folks, and we'll dip into them gratefully after what you've done." Miss Gwyn turned to Dean. "Second, pay no mind to Gus Cadwalader and his blustering. Believe me, that boy has broken more than few rules in his lifetime. Besides, I think I have something which may get you back in his good graces. You know that the human remains in the mine are the talk of the town, right?"
"What?" Sam's gaze snapped to Dean. "Who saw the remains?"
"Miners trying to rescue your sorry butt." Dean set down the box of pastries on Sam's bed. "Didn't get to fill you in on that part. When the gas knocked me out, Gus sent two teams into the mine to search for you. He called 'em back when I came to, but not before one of the teams saw the bones-one of many reasons I wasn't waiting to put a match to that hellhole soon as you were safe. Last thing we needed was some Joe Do-gooder deciding they needed to haul those remains out of there."
Sam's frown deepened. "So then how-?"
"One miner took some video with his phone, then posted the damn thing online." Dean shook his head. "Like Miss Gwyn said, it's the talk of the town. Everyone wants to know who the skeletons are. Gus is pretty sure they were miners, which is a big part of why he's pissed."
Sam nodded slowly. "He'd wanna know who they were, what happened to them..."
"And that's where I believe this may help." Miss Gwyn reached into her purse and pulled out a battered, leather journal. "My granddaddy left all his books and journals to me in his will. His books I've read many times over, but his journals…." She ran her fingers reverently over the cover. "It hurt too much to read them right after he passed, then, over the years…. Well, it just seemed like a breach of privacy-his and the men and women he counseled. But when talk started up about the bones in the mine, I realized the answers were likely in here."
Miss Gwyn smiled. "Reading through them last night was a real gift, one more I have you two to thank for." She handed the book to Dean.
Dean's eyes widened as he took it from her. "So, what? The spirits' identities are in here?"
Miss Gwyn nodded. "I told you the story of Granddaddy counseling Jeb Clayton, one of the men who hunted down those white-eyed miners. Jeb gave him the names of the three men who were chased into that mine. They're all recorded in there."
Dean opened the journal where a thin, faded ribbon marked the page, and quickly scanned the entry. "There's those names and a whole lot more, all the details of the hunt to track down the white-eye freaks-and how they got that way."
"Let me see." Sam impatiently gestured at the journal. When Dean passed it to him, he read through the opened pages. "It even details the pledge the mayor of the day, Ezekiel Ryder, made the posse take to cover up the whole thing." He glanced up at Miss Gwyn. "You really want us to go public with all this?"
"Absolutely." Miss Gwyn's jaw set stubbornly. "It should never have been covered up in the first place. A town's character is forged from its past, good and ugly. How can we better ourselves if we never learn from our mistakes?" She turned to Dean. "You let Gus know it was Mayor Ryder's kin who launched that posse, set this whole series of events in motion. Trust me, he'll forget all about you asking for extra lights and blowing up that mine."
Dean smiled. "I got the feeling there was some bad blood between Gus and Ryder."
Miss Gwyn snorted. "Those two have been at loggerheads since grade school. Harland always thought too highly of himself and his station for Gus's liking. Gus will be delighted to both take down our esteemed mayor a peg or two and, perhaps, finally give those poor miners some peace."
"Then I suggest you and I go have a chat with Gus." Dean reached over to take the journal back from Sam, then wrapped his arm around Miss Gwyn's shoulders to steer her toward the door.
The librarian shook her head. "You boys took all the risks. I need no share of the credit."
Dean winked at Miss Gwyn. "To be honest, I just figured there's a much better chance Gus won't slug me with you there."
As they stepped into the hall, Sam realized the pastries had been forgotten. "Dean, honeybuns."
A nurse appeared in the doorway to Sam's room at that moment, her face creasing into a grin at the "term of endearment."
"Oh, seriously?" Dean scowled at the nurse's expression as he turned back into the room and snatched up the box. "This is what he was talking about. Pastries." He returned to Miss Gwyn's side, shaking his head as they moved off down the hall. "These things rank right up there with cheeseburgers and a good Scotch but, damn, they need a new name."
Finis
A/N: The legend of the 'White-Eyed Freaks' is a true one, out of Tennessee Hollow, Tennessee, as are the circumstances of how the miners came to be trapped. I played with the facts a little bit after that to fit within this story. Written in honor of my late Granddad, James Williams, a Welsh miner. If you have a minute, I'd love to hear from you. 'Til next time, cheers.
xxxXXXxxx
The Miner's Prayer
By Margie McAlastar
Take a look at these hands, Lord,
They're worn and rough.
My face scarred with coal marks,
My language is tough.
But you know in the heart, Lord,
Lies the soul of a man
Who toils at a living
That few men can stand
There's sulphur and coal dust
And sweat on my brow.
To live like a rich man,
I'd never learn how.
But if you've got a corner
When my work is through,
I'd be mighty proud to live
Neighbors with you.
Each dawn as I rise, Lord,
I know all to well…
I face only one thing:
A pit filled with hell.
To scratch out a living
The best that I can.
But deep in this heart
Lies the soul of a man.
With black covered faces
And hard calloused hands,
We ride the dark tunnels,
Our work to begin.
To labor and toil
As we harvest the coal
We silently pray,
Lord, please harvest our souls
Just a corner in Heaven
When I've grown too old
And my back it won't bend, Lord,
To shovel the coal.
Lift me out of the pit, Lord.
Where the sun never shines,
Cause it gets mighty weary
Down there in the mine.
But I'd rather be me, Lord.
Though no riches I show,
Though tired and weary.
I'm just glad to know
When the Great Seal is broken
The pages will tell
That I've already spent
My time in hell.
SUMMARY: Casefic. There's something out there in the dark, ripping its victims apart - and now it has Sam and Dean in its sights.
SPOILERS: Set Season 4-ish. A casefic which takes place in-between canon hunts.
DISCLAIMER: The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke & Co. I am playing in their sandbox, with their toys, with much gratitude.
RATING: T for some swearing.
WORD COUNT: 27K
GENRE: Gen/Hurt-Comfort/Adventure
Link back to Chapter 4 Here
STAY IN THE LIGHT - CHAPTER 5
"What's going on?" Dean looked past Donna to where Gus and Colin were now standing in front of Sam, talking.
Donna glanced over her shoulder after she finished taking Dean's pulse. "Looks like they're ready to get Sam out."
Dean's heart started racing and he grabbed Donna's sleeve. "How bad is it? And I want the truth."
"We're…cautiously optimistic." Donna held up her hand to cut off Dean as he was about to interrupt. "I know that sounds cliché but it's true. Sam's blood pressure and oxygen levels are good right now but-"
"You need to see what happens when you take all that weight off him." Dean swallowed. "He could still bottom out, right?"
"Don't go there." Donna squeezed his arm then pushed herself to her feet. "Whatever happens, we'll be right there to fight with him." She smiled, then returned to her partner's side.
"Okay, people. Let's do this."
As Gus issued that directive, his crew slipped into high gear like a well-oiled machine.
Hydraulic jacks had been placed under the beam on either side of Sam. As the miners used crowbars and brute strength to pull out the rocks and rubble holding it up, an engineer adjusted each jack so it continued to bear the weight and keep the beam off Sam.
Dean's attention was locked on the rescue efforts until a chill ripped through him and his breath frosted. His gaze snapped to the right and he stared past the worklights down the tunnel. There, just beyond the big lights, the spirits stood three abreast, watching the proceedings.
"Son of a bitch." Dean's curse came with the realization that his gun was still on the far side of the tunnel. He was pushing himself up to retrieve it when it hit him that the spirits weren't moving. They were squinting against the bright lights but their attention was riveted to the rescue under way.
Their hands were open, their arms relaxed at their sides. There was no sign of the pickaxes they'd used to bring down the tunnel. It hit Dean then that, if they'd wanted to, they could have easily smashed the two worklights, plunging the tunnel back into darkness. But, this time, there was nothing threatening about their stance or their actions.
"Okay, beam's clear. Grab hold and we lift it on three."
Dean's attention snapped back to Sam. His brother's legs were free and visible, and miners were lined up along the beam pinning him down, ready to lift it.
"One…two…three."
On three they lifted the beam with a collective grunt, carried it off to the side and dumped it on the ground next to the tunnel wall.
Sam was free.
The paramedics moved in and, once again, began assessing their patient.
Dean cast a quick glance up the tunnel-the spirits were still watching, but making no move to attack-then stumbled over to Sam. His brother's face was twisted in pain behind the oxygen mask. Donna was bandaging his thigh where a rapidly blossoming blood stain was soaking through his coveralls while Colin was using the stethoscope to listen to his heart and lungs. "Sammy?"
Sam looked up at Dean. He said nothing but his eyes clearly showed he was in pain.
'Your legs hurt?" Donna asked the question as she kept working.
Sam's only response was a curt nod.
"The blood's rushing back to them now that circulation's restored." Donna secured the bandage. "It should ease off soon, and the fluids we're giving you will help." The paramedic grabbed a pair of scissors and quickly cut through Sam's coveralls and his jeans to examine his legs. "You've got some pretty extensive bruising here but there are no obvious signs of broken bones. X-rays will tell us better, but let's hang on to that bit of good news for now." She smiled, checked her watch, then turned to the miners behind her. "Get the litter. I want him out of here and in the hospital ASAP."
Within minutes, they had Sam transferred to the litter, blankets bundled around him, and monitors and an oxygen tank stowed with him.
Dean retrieved one thing from his duffel, grabbed his gun, then gently but firmly pushed aside one of the six miners about to carry Sam's litter out of the mine.
Donna frowned worriedly. "Dean, you really should-"
"I'm doing this." Dean bent down, wrapped his hand around the metal tubing that formed the rim of the litter, and when the count of three came, lifted his brother off the ground and began walking toward the breach that would get them all to the surface.
He scanned the tunnel; there was no sign of the spirits. He didn't know what their game was but at this point he didn't care. He glanced down at his brother and nodded. "We're going home, Sammy."
xxxXXXxxx
Once on the surface, Donna and Colin gave Sam another thorough examination before strapping the litter onto the ATV that would take him off South Mountain and to the ambulance that was waiting on the nearest road.
By the time they were set to go, all the miners and the equipment were clear of the tunnel. Dean looked on in surprise as the miners gathered together just off to their right, dropped to one knee and bent their heads.
Donna smiled softly at Dean's expression. "They're tough S.O.B.'s, every single one of 'em, but, as they like to say, when you spend your day in Hell, it's good to have Heaven on your side. They're just saying thanks for a successful rescue."
Dean nodded slowly, then froze as he caught sight of the three spirit miners standing in the shadows beyond the group saying a prayer. He glanced down at his semi-conscious brother, his expression hardening at everything Sam had been through and would still face as part of his recovery, and fished the small black box from his pocket. "Gus," he shouted when the prayer finished. "All your men accounted for?"
When Gus nodded, Dean turned to Donna. "Gimme thirty seconds. I've got my own way of saying thanks, of making sure no one else gets hurt." He stumbled over to Sam, pulled back the blanket, and wrapped his brother's hand around the box, and his own hand around Sam's. He smiled as Sam looked up at him. "Let's end this, Sammy, for good."
Together, they pressed the first button on the detonator, then the second, then the third. The explosives they'd set earlier blew, the three initial blasts followed by a much larger one as the methane ignited. The ground beneath them rumbled, causing the miners to look up in surprise, and a column of dust and flame blew up through the breach from which they'd recently escaped. But Dean's attention was again locked on the spirits. Acceptance more than surprise was reflected in their strange white eyes as they faded from sight. The bones were burned; the spirits were gone.
Dean tucked Sam's arm back under the blanket, climbed aboard the ATV beside his brother, and held on as the machine roared to life and set off to rendezvous with the waiting ambulance.
xxxXXXxxx
"They were just watching us, Sammy. Making no move to attack."
"Didn't have to." Sam shifted, stiff after being bedridden for three days. The first two had been in the ICU as hospital staff monitored his heart and kidneys, the two organs most affected by the aftereffects of crush injuries. When further tests assured them he was stabilized, they'd moved him to his current room, and this was the first real chance the brothers had had to talk without a doctor or nurse hovering nearby. "You proved them wrong."
Dean frowned. "About what?"
"You came back."
Dean raised an eyebrow at that. "Like there was any doubt?"
Sam smiled. "Not from me, but from the spirits, yeah. No one came for them." His smile faded as his mind's eye replayed the confrontation with the ghost miners. "They told me you were dead, then they knocked out the lights…wanted me to know what it was like to be trapped in the dark, to die slowly knowing no one was coming for me. When you showed up…." He shook his head, still not fully believing the sight that had met him when he'd come to. "With a giant rescue party in tow no less…. I think it shocked the hell right out of them-literally ." Sam looked up at Dean and shrugged. "Maybe it reminded them of who miners really are…that what happened to them was the exception, not the rule."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Then tell me this, Mr. Hallmark Moment, why'd they'd let me go? Before I rode in on my white horse, they wanted both of us stuck in that hell for all eternity."
"They didn't let you go. They thought you were dead." Sam winced as he flexed his battered legs to push himself up. "You said yourself that the gas messed you up, that you weren't thinking straight. I think they watched you wander through those tunnels, believing you were as crazy as they were."
Dean looked nauseated at the memory. "Then just to prove their point, I take a header off that rock pile and knock myself out." He grinned at Sam. "Almost made it though."
"But to them you looked dead." Sam groaned as he reached for a cup of water on the stand at the side of the bed. "They couldn't cross the salt line, so they assumed the worst."
Dean crossed to the nightstand, picked up the cup and handed it to his brother.
Sam nodded his thanks. "Then Gus and his crew showed up, hauled you out, and started planning the big rescue. Maybe that's when they figured what I told them wasn't total bull after all."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Talking to ghosts again, Sammy? How many times have-"
"Wasn't like I had a whole lot of options." The laugh lines around Sam's eyes deepened as he grinned behind the cup. "Besides, it worked didn't it?"
"Well, there's that." Dean frowned as his brother squirmed in an attempt to get comfortable, then pressed the button on the bed to raise the head a bit more. "Maybe I should let you talk to Gus. I've still gotta explain why I needed all those lights for your rescue." He started pacing beside Sam's bed. "Not to mention, he was royally pissed we blew up the mine with all his men still on the mountain. Chewed me out but good for that. He sure as hell was in no mood to hear that three ghosts and a few skeletons in the closet were behind all the recent deaths.'"
"Gus is cool. We'll figure out something." Sam dropped his head back onto his pillow. "Maybe taking him a box of Molly's honeybuns would help."
"Couldn't hurt." Dean's expression turned serious as he looked down at Sam.
The bruising down his brother's face and left arm had turned a soft shade of purple. There was further bruising on this chest, but it was his legs, now hidden under the blankets, that had taken the brunt of the damage. Surprisingly, there were no broken bones but muscle and bone bruises made his thighs and shins look like raw liver. Doctors had prescribed short walks around the hospital several times a day to help prevent the muscles from stiffening up, but the pain etched in Sam's face with each step made no secret of how much it hurt.
"What's the latest from your docs? When can we spring you?"
Sam shifted impatiently. "Now's good. I'm sick of this place."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "So if I guard the door, you're ready to hop out bed, get dressed, and hightail it down the corridor?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, hightailing might be pushing it, but-"
"Fine. Keep your ass parked where it is 'til I get the full scoop from your doc." Dean shook his head at Sam's pleading expression. "And don't give me the puppy-dog look. I'm immune. You forget whose playing human crutch on those walks they insist you take every few hours? The pace you're moving, it'd take you a day and half to get to the elevators. Something tells me we might get stopped before then."
Sam scowled but offered no real fight. "What about you? Any aftereffects from the gas poisoning?"
Dean shook his head. "Got an all clear this morning. Good as new. We just need to get you pieced back together, then we're putting this town in our rear view mirror for good."
Sam played with the tubing of his IV. "When the spirits knocked the lights out and told me you were dead…." He exhaled audibly. "I thought …I thought that that was it. I wasn't getting out." Sam closed his eyes. "Damn, Dean…. I know exactly why they went crazy. To be stuck in the dark like that, to-" His eyes snapped open when he felt Dean's fingers close around his wrist.
"We got you out, Sam." It was one of those rare occasions when Dean's walls were down. "We were always gonna get you out."
Sam nodded slowly. "But, you know...thanks."
Dean cleared his throat and stepped back. "Okay, before this conversation degenerates into a total chick-flick moment, I am off to smooth things over with Gus. How many do you think it'll take?"
Sam frowned. "How many what?"
Dean scowled. "Pay attention. Honeybuns."
"Now if I didn't know you two were brothers, I'd swear there was something more between you, what with you calling Sam honeybuns, and all."
Dean's head snapped toward the doorway to see Miss Gwyn standing there, a mischievous grin on her face.
The librarian offered him a bakery box, tied with string. "Or perhaps these are what you were referring to. Fresh from Molly's kitchen."
Dean took the package and gave Miss Gwyn a mock scowl. "If these are what I think they are, I'm gonna forgive you for what you just implied." He shuddered for effect.
"Yes, well, I apologize for my off-color humor." Miss Gwyn shook her head as she walked into the room. "I was often in trouble as a girl for being saucy. I'm afraid that trait did not improve with age."
Sam smiled tiredly. "Nice to see you again, Miss Gwynn."
The librarian's smile faded. "Oh, you poor thing, look at you. They said half of South Mountain landed on top of you. How you are even breathing is a miracle in itself."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, it wasn't exactly half the mountain."
"Sam is still a hero in my book." Miss Gwyn bit back a smile as she saw Dean pull a face at his brother. "You both are. And, as such, I've come to express my gratitude before you disappear into the night, as mysterious heroes of legend usually do."
"Mysterious heroes. I like that." Dean glanced down at the box of pastries. "And thank you for these. Trust me, they'll hit the spot-even if I have to give half of them to Gus to stop him from throwing my ass, um…my butt behind bars for blowing up his mine."
Miss Gwyn gave a soft snort. "First, I think what you two did deserves a bit more than a box of pastries as a thank you. When you're ready to leave, you'll find your hospital bills have been taken care of."
Sam's eyes widened. "Miss Gwyn, we can't let you-"
"Oh, hush." The librarian gently but firmly silenced Sam's objections. "I still have a little pull around here, and this hospital has funds set aside for helping deserving folks, and we'll dip into them gratefully after what you've done." Miss Gwyn turned to Dean. "Second, pay no mind to Gus Cadwalader and his blustering. Believe me, that boy has broken more than few rules in his lifetime. Besides, I think I have something which may get you back in his good graces. You know that the human remains in the mine are the talk of the town, right?"
"What?" Sam's gaze snapped to Dean. "Who saw the remains?"
"Miners trying to rescue your sorry butt." Dean set down the box of pastries on Sam's bed. "Didn't get to fill you in on that part. When the gas knocked me out, Gus sent two teams into the mine to search for you. He called 'em back when I came to, but not before one of the teams saw the bones-one of many reasons I wasn't waiting to put a match to that hellhole soon as you were safe. Last thing we needed was some Joe Do-gooder deciding they needed to haul those remains out of there."
Sam's frown deepened. "So then how-?"
"One miner took some video with his phone, then posted the damn thing online." Dean shook his head. "Like Miss Gwyn said, it's the talk of the town. Everyone wants to know who the skeletons are. Gus is pretty sure they were miners, which is a big part of why he's pissed."
Sam nodded slowly. "He'd wanna know who they were, what happened to them..."
"And that's where I believe this may help." Miss Gwyn reached into her purse and pulled out a battered, leather journal. "My granddaddy left all his books and journals to me in his will. His books I've read many times over, but his journals…." She ran her fingers reverently over the cover. "It hurt too much to read them right after he passed, then, over the years…. Well, it just seemed like a breach of privacy-his and the men and women he counseled. But when talk started up about the bones in the mine, I realized the answers were likely in here."
Miss Gwyn smiled. "Reading through them last night was a real gift, one more I have you two to thank for." She handed the book to Dean.
Dean's eyes widened as he took it from her. "So, what? The spirits' identities are in here?"
Miss Gwyn nodded. "I told you the story of Granddaddy counseling Jeb Clayton, one of the men who hunted down those white-eyed miners. Jeb gave him the names of the three men who were chased into that mine. They're all recorded in there."
Dean opened the journal where a thin, faded ribbon marked the page, and quickly scanned the entry. "There's those names and a whole lot more, all the details of the hunt to track down the white-eye freaks-and how they got that way."
"Let me see." Sam impatiently gestured at the journal. When Dean passed it to him, he read through the opened pages. "It even details the pledge the mayor of the day, Ezekiel Ryder, made the posse take to cover up the whole thing." He glanced up at Miss Gwyn. "You really want us to go public with all this?"
"Absolutely." Miss Gwyn's jaw set stubbornly. "It should never have been covered up in the first place. A town's character is forged from its past, good and ugly. How can we better ourselves if we never learn from our mistakes?" She turned to Dean. "You let Gus know it was Mayor Ryder's kin who launched that posse, set this whole series of events in motion. Trust me, he'll forget all about you asking for extra lights and blowing up that mine."
Dean smiled. "I got the feeling there was some bad blood between Gus and Ryder."
Miss Gwyn snorted. "Those two have been at loggerheads since grade school. Harland always thought too highly of himself and his station for Gus's liking. Gus will be delighted to both take down our esteemed mayor a peg or two and, perhaps, finally give those poor miners some peace."
"Then I suggest you and I go have a chat with Gus." Dean reached over to take the journal back from Sam, then wrapped his arm around Miss Gwyn's shoulders to steer her toward the door.
The librarian shook her head. "You boys took all the risks. I need no share of the credit."
Dean winked at Miss Gwyn. "To be honest, I just figured there's a much better chance Gus won't slug me with you there."
As they stepped into the hall, Sam realized the pastries had been forgotten. "Dean, honeybuns."
A nurse appeared in the doorway to Sam's room at that moment, her face creasing into a grin at the "term of endearment."
"Oh, seriously?" Dean scowled at the nurse's expression as he turned back into the room and snatched up the box. "This is what he was talking about. Pastries." He returned to Miss Gwyn's side, shaking his head as they moved off down the hall. "These things rank right up there with cheeseburgers and a good Scotch but, damn, they need a new name."
Finis
A/N: The legend of the 'White-Eyed Freaks' is a true one, out of Tennessee Hollow, Tennessee, as are the circumstances of how the miners came to be trapped. I played with the facts a little bit after that to fit within this story. Written in honor of my late Granddad, James Williams, a Welsh miner. If you have a minute, I'd love to hear from you. 'Til next time, cheers.
xxxXXXxxx
The Miner's Prayer
By Margie McAlastar
Take a look at these hands, Lord,
They're worn and rough.
My face scarred with coal marks,
My language is tough.
But you know in the heart, Lord,
Lies the soul of a man
Who toils at a living
That few men can stand
There's sulphur and coal dust
And sweat on my brow.
To live like a rich man,
I'd never learn how.
But if you've got a corner
When my work is through,
I'd be mighty proud to live
Neighbors with you.
Each dawn as I rise, Lord,
I know all to well…
I face only one thing:
A pit filled with hell.
To scratch out a living
The best that I can.
But deep in this heart
Lies the soul of a man.
With black covered faces
And hard calloused hands,
We ride the dark tunnels,
Our work to begin.
To labor and toil
As we harvest the coal
We silently pray,
Lord, please harvest our souls
Just a corner in Heaven
When I've grown too old
And my back it won't bend, Lord,
To shovel the coal.
Lift me out of the pit, Lord.
Where the sun never shines,
Cause it gets mighty weary
Down there in the mine.
But I'd rather be me, Lord.
Though no riches I show,
Though tired and weary.
I'm just glad to know
When the Great Seal is broken
The pages will tell
That I've already spent
My time in hell.