Beware the Judderman 8/?

[spnmermaid]

Title: Beware The Judderman Chapter 8
Author: spnmermaid
Rating: PG-13
Genre/pairing: Gen
Characters: Dean W, Sam W
Word count: 5600 approx (This Part)
Summary: A remote hunt takes a sinister turn when Dean is badly injured and their presence draws some unwanted attention.
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Injury, blood, swearing
Disclaimer: In my mind they're all mine

A.N. Very nearly at the end now, one more chapter after this one and it'll be finished. I hope it's enjoyable. Reviews feed the monster. Enjoy.



Sam crashed onto his belly, for a moment he just lay there, not daring to move, because if he moved then it would be real. If he moved then he had been too slow to save his brother. So he just lay there, nose pressed against the snow.

There was no one there but him now. No voice on the wind, no figure standing on the edge, no self-sacrificing big brother there to keep him safe.

He couldn't leave Dean here though, maybe if he took his body then his soul wouldn't be at the mercy of the thing that had killed him. In truth, Sam wanted nothing more than to find Dean and just lie down and go to sleep next to him. But Sam couldn't be that selfish, not when Dean had died so that he might have a chance of getting away.

He heard something then, something soft, rising up from the chasm below him. He held his breath, afraid that if he made a noise he would frighten it away. After what seemed like an eternity, he heard it again, faint but unmistakable. A groan.

He scuttled forward and peeped over the edge, bracing himself for the sight of his brother splattered on the ground. Just looking down and knowing that Dean had fallen off that cliff made Sam's stomach flip, and there he was, lying at the very bottom, leg twisted at an awkward angle, arm moving slowly to his head, groaning, living! Dean was alive, he'd survived the fall. For now. Sam seriously wished the voice in his head would just shut up.

"Dean!" He yelled down, "Don't move, I'm coming, just stay still." He scanned for a way down, wanting to get there as fast as possible, but of course there was no way down, not unless he felt like flying himself.

"Dammit." He muttered, "Dean, just...please hang on."

Dean gave no sign that he'd heard, just continued that muffled groaning. Sam would have to go back the way he came, which would mean leaving Dean alone. There was nothing he could do from up here though, nothing but watch. He glanced nervously over his shoulder, feeling that all too familiar prickle on the back of his neck that warned him that there was something behind him.

Nothing. Nothing that he could see anyway. A sharp cry snapped his attention back to Dean. His brother was definitely awake now. Sat hunched over, his hands were hovering over his leg; Sam couldn't see his face but guessed his expression wasn't a happy one.

Sam shivered as a gust of wind slid itself under his shirt and stirred the snow around him, causing the thinning flakes of snow falling softly from the sky to whirl themselves into a frenzy and the leaves on the trees to rustle before fading out through the branches.

Sam was about to tear himself away and run down there as fast as humanly possible, but that meant forcing himself even further into the realms of helplessness, where he couldn't even see if his brother was alive or not. When he saw Dean stiffen, his whole being focused on one point.

Sam knew without seeing that it was there, advancing on his defenceless brother. Dean had started dragging himself backwards using his arms and one working leg, the other trailed uselessly after him.

Sam should run, or hell even jump, he should be doing something instead of just watching. Waiting for it to play out. But he couldn't, all he could do was watch. Watch as his brother slowly dragged his broken body backwards. It was futile, they both knew it. When Dean had thrown himself off the cliff, he'd known exactly what he was doing. But still, that self-preservation, that terrible fear, was too overwhelming to just let him stay still while it came for him.

From Sam's frustrating vantage point, he could see the shadows in the trees get deeper and take form. Then, once again, they came. The dead, shuffling out of the trees, coming one last time for his brother.

They staggered forward on decayed limbs, the only sound the crunching of dead feet on dead leaves. Dean would soon be one of them; he'd thrown himself into their grave to join them and now they were coming to claim him.

A clump of snow that was teetering on the edge of the cliff gave way under Sam's hand and went tumbling down to land with a thud. Dean jerked his head up towards Sam, and when he did, dozens more heads followed suit. Their necks twisted slowly, jerkily, and countless sets of hollow eyes focused on Sam. They looked right into him, through him, those empty eyes were predatory...hungry. They held the promise that he was next, once they were through with his brother they'd come for him.

"Hey!" Dean's shout from below drew their attention back to him, distracting them in the hope that Sam could escape. The shout snapped Sam back to his senses, thawing him from his frozen position. Without thinking he hurled himself to his feet and started running back down the path to his brother.

The ground was uneven under his feet and more than once he stumbled to his knees when he slipped on the slush that had been churned up by their frantic footsteps. At one point he skidded too hard and felt his jeans tear at the knee, he ignored the stinging flesh and smears of blood in the snow from where he pushed himself up and kept on going. He had no idea what he would do once he reached his brother, but he had to do something.

He was being watched again, he could feel it. It was in the spindly branches that snagged in his hair, in the haunting caw of the crow that watched as he passed. Nothing was stopping him though, there were no obstacles blocking his path, no spectral figure looming up out of the dim. Everything seemed to be falling into place. And that thought terrified him.

Finally, there he was, up ahead in the pre-dawn light. Dean Winchester, still alive, still kicking. Well maybe not kicking, but he had dragged himself to his feet and was using what looked to Sam suspiciously like a femur to do some serious damage. Rotted heads and other body parts were flying in all directions as Dean swung the bone back and forth, with no battle plan other than to take as many out as he could.

Sam was nearly upon him, fist already drawn back to eliminate the threat that had snuck up behind his brother, it had no arms and its head was making a nauseating rustling sound as it slid away from the neck bit by bit, but it probably still had teeth.

He was so close, mere feet between them when suddenly all he could see was a set of eyes. Cold, hypnotic, terrifying eyes. The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, he couldn't focus, there was a lot of noise happening somewhere close by, but his eyes were so heavy, his body felt like lead. He struggled to lift his head, to move. He only realised his eyes were open when he blinked as a snowflake landed in one.

He was beginning to come back to himself, to remember what was happening, when he felt a hand on his forehead. It was soothing and he leaned into it. Dean. Dean would look after him now. Wouldn't he? No, Dean was hurt, he had to look after Dean. He opened his mouth to say something and then immediately forgot what it was when the hand on his forehead jerked his head back violently and another held his mouth open. He struggled, digging his stumpy nails into the hands that held him. Then he felt something worming its way down his throat, thick liquid that blocked his airway and choked him. He couldn't stop it, he couldn't breathe, little by little it slipped inside him, his lungs were burning, his head screaming, all he could hear was a high pitched ringing in his ears as the need for oxygen grew greater and greater. He tried not to swallow, but it was unrelenting and the more desperate he got, the more he panicked and choked.

Then suddenly a force seemed to blow in, powerful and furious. The pressure was gone, the hands vanished and he was hurled to the side while his attacker was snatched away. He tried to breathe but all he could do was gag and wretch. It was stuck in his throat, blocking his airway. It took him a minute to realise that the hands were back, pulling him to all fours, muttering in his ear.

"Come on Sammy, cough it up. Don't swallow it, cough it up."

Dean? He tried to do as he was told, to spit out the foulness, but his throat convulsed and purple spots danced before his eyes. It either had to go down or up or he would die, he had to breathe, he had to swallow it. But before he'd had time to register his decision, fingers were forcing themselves mercilessly into his mouth and down his throat. He swatted at the offending hand, but it was relentless, determined. The fingers jabbed cruelly at the back of his throat and suddenly he was wretching, spewing up the liquid that burned even more on the way back up. The hand snatched itself out of the way just in time and Sam was throwing up like it was New Years Day after his first taste of Jaeger bombs. Finally it was over and he was reduced to spitting up bile. He sucked in beautiful, delicious air and rolled onto his side, carefully avoiding the disgusting mess he'd made, he just needed one minute to breathe.

Dean apparently had other ideas. He pulled Sam into a sitting position and scrutinised his face, peering intently into his eyes.

"Sam? Is that you in there?"

"I think so. What the hell was that?"

"I don't know. You didn't swallow any though did you?"

"No." Sam was struggling to form anything more than monosyllables.

"Good. I think that's what I was roofied with earlier."

"What happ...Did you..?"

"Body slammed it. Whatever it was, too much snow, couldn't see properly. One minute I'm Ash in the Evil Dead, the next, there's this...shape on top of you. Took me a minute to get rid of the fan club or I would have been faster."

"S'okay. No, wait, it's not ok! You jumped off a damn cliff! Now you're talking like nothing happened. Your stupid leg is broken and you're walking on it. None of this is ok!"

"Don't call my leg stupid."

Sam was feeling better, more than that, he was feeling pissed. Dean was ok, and that meant he could be angry that he'd done something so damn moronic.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking I could buy you some time. It would have worked if you hadn't been so damn stubborn, now we both get to die."

"Great, because life would have been fantastic knowing that you were a walking corpse. 'Hey Sam, what happened to your brother?' 'Oh he jumped off a cliff to save me, because he's an IDIOT! But his reanimated shell stops by for a freaking beer from time to time.' Your leg looks like shit by the way." Sam shoved his brother in his broken leg.

"OW!" Dean blanched in pain and shoved Sam right back "That hurt you ass."

"Well you can walk on it Dean, so it can't hurt that bad."

"Dammit Sam, what do you want me to do huh?"

"I want you to give a crap Dean! Don't you care that you just tried to kill yourself."

"Please, I did not try to kill myself, just...do my job."

"Sacrificing yourself for me is not your job Dean."

"Sam..."

"No, fighting evil is your job; not DYING is your job."

"Sam..."

"How do you think I'd have felt knowing that you'd died to save me? Again!"

"SAM!"

"WHAT?"

"We've got company."

Sam gingerly looked back over his shoulder, the bodies were back, slowly forming a circle around them, Dean had done a good job of taking them apart, but it also meant that he'd created more body parts to fight.

"What do we do Dean?"

"I don't know."

They lunged then; the circle they had formed broke as body after body hurled itself at the brothers. Sam was knocked onto his back as bony fingers pinned his arm to the ground. He brought up his leg to knee it away and snapped off fingers with his free hand. He lost sight of Dean, rolling onto his knees he caught sight of his brother's boots disappearing in the tree line.

"SAM! Sam where are you?!"

"DEAN! Dean I'm here!" He sent fists flying into the crunchy bone, let skulls crumble to dust and dragged himself to his feet.

"SAMMY! SAMMY ANSWER ME!"

He left behind the empty husks and plunged towards the trees.

"SAAAAAAAM!"

"Sam?"

He froze, made himself turn back around. Dean was there, right where he'd left him, surrounded living corpses. They weren't touching him, just watching, waiting.

"Dean? You were...You shouted for me."

"Deeeeeeeeaaaaaan."

Dean smiled sadly, "That wasn't me Sam."

Sam realised too late, it had tricked him, separated them.

"Deeeeeeeeaaaaaaan."

"It's ok Sam."

It appeared so swiftly that Sam wondered if it had been there all along, standing behind his brother, dark and powerful, if maybe he just hadn't seen it for the snow.

It always snows here.

He was terrified; the thing was looming over his brother. Snow began to cascade down over Dean, blanketing him in white powder. He couldn't move, he knew that as soon as he did it would descend and Dean would be gone forever. The snow was coming down faster and thicker, it blew outwards, Sam blinked it out of his eyes and watched in horror as the flakes fell upon the army of the dead and breathed their souls back into their bodies.

The eyes were the only place he could see it, could be sure. They gaped in horror at what they'd become and then began to scream.

One by one they screamed, horrifying, tortured wails of despair and agony. Sam had never heard anything like it. The sound rose to a crescendo, he pushed his hands to his ears and through the snow he saw Dean do the same. He watched Dean fall to his knees, and wanted to copy him. He wanted so badly to curl up and close his eyes, to blot out all sight and sound.

But he couldn't tear his eyes away, they were howling in pain and misery, no words, just a primal, guttural scream. They knew what they were, they'd been turned into soldiers for the thing that had taken their lives and they were doomed to live on, feeling the pain of their rotting bodies, adding more and more to their numbers. For the first time in hours, Sam pitied them, it wasn't strong enough to overwhelm his own mortal terror, but it was there.

He focused on one that he recognised, the one that had seemed the freshest to him when he'd first stumbled upon them all those hours ago. It seemed like days. The horror on his face was so raw, so...alive. Sam watched in morbid fascination as he inspected his violently shaking hands, the chunk missing from his arm that appeared to have been gnawed away. Then he looked right at Sam, he knew that he was screaming for help, but all he could form was a torturous wail.

Sam wrenched his eyes away, focusing instead on Dean, who was crouched on his knees on the ground, eyes tightly shut and hands clamped over his ears. They started to move back down the path, still screaming that terrible scream. Sam could only stand and stare as they started to lie down, reforming the passageway that he'd first found them in. It was only once they were all down that he saw it, Dean was last in line, a place was saved for him next to the young guy who had strayed too far and found himself being used as a puppet. This was how it was supposed to happen, he realised. It was always meant to end this way.

As the snow continued its relentless fall, one of the dead, a half decayed woman, with part of her skull missing and both legs shattered below the knee, dragged herself towards Dean. Sam looked on, waiting for her to suck the life from his brother, but instead she drew his hands away from his ears, Dean opened his eyes and looked at her, his expression was unreadable, but he didn't resist when the woman simply took his hand in her own rotten one. She wasn't screaming anymore, she lay her decomposing body down onto the ground, still clutching Dean's hand in her own. Then Dean lay down as well.

There was no fight, no struggle, Dean just eased his body down onto the white earth and closed his eyes. The shadow behind him seemed to...loom. It was the only way Sam could describe it, the snow whipped up into a flurry, obscuring the scene. Sam watched as the creature swooped low over his brother, dark and fearsome. Sam didn't move, he didn't feel the need to move. It was inevitable, there was nothing he could do and he accepted that. It would be his turn soon; he didn't know where his spot would be, maybe next to Dean, maybe across from him. Dean had accepted it, and so had he.

The dark shape seemed to grow larger, but was hard to tell, just like it was hard to tell if Dean's body really had begun to tremble violently, or if it was just the snow distorting things, like an old film that doesn't fit into the new world any more. Sam cocked his head to the side, he wondered how it was killing him, what was it doing to absorb his soul. He hoped it didn't hurt too much.

He wanted it hurry the hell up, he wanted it to be over. Or did he want to it begin? He wasn't sure.

"Sam."

Sam blinked, had it called his name again?

"Sam, help him."

Something had said his name, something that didn't quite have a voice.

"Save him Sam, do it now."

Sam gasped, he hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath; his head was dizzy with the need for oxygen. It had been controlling him, keeping him at bay while it took his brother. Dean, Dean was dying.

Sam threw himself forward, "DEAN! LET HIM GO YOU BASTARD!"

He plunged through the swirling snow, drew his gun and fired. The sound was deafening as it echoed through the woods. He hadn't really expected that a bullet would do any damage, it was fired out of anger and instinct, but it created a distraction. The creature snarled, and rounded on Sam so fast that afterwards he wasn't sure that he'd seen anything at all. Just a memory of a face, a flash of rage and death and fear that would forever be etched into his nightmares, never staying long enough to be seen properly. Then it was gone, back into the trees. The bodies on the ground were still shaking, just like Dean who was juddering and shaking violently. It would be back, Sam wasn't naive enough to believe that he'd killed it. But for the first time, he had the feeling that maybe they weren't fighting it alone.

The snow had slowed once again to a steady fall. He wasn't even thinking of the cold, of how they could escape. All he could think about as he crashed to his knees beside his trembling brother, was that he'd bought them a little more time.

"Dean." He reached out and gentle disentangled his brother's hand from the woman's corpse. Without wasting any time, he pulled Dean away from the bodies, just far enough that he didn't look like he belonged there.

Every part of Dean was still twitching, his legs bouncing softly against the compact snow.

Sam's hands hovered above him, not knowing how to fix it.

"Dean. Wake up man, please."

He shook his shoulders gently and as soon as he did, Dean woke up swinging. Sam barely managed to dodge the fist. Dean's eyes were open and terrified, he was gasping in great lungfulls of air, writhing in Sam's grasp.

"Dean! Knock it off, it's me! It's Sam, you're ok!"

Dean blinked and focused on Sam. His eyes still bright with fear but he was calming down.

"Sam?"

"Yeah. You ok?"

"We're not dead?"

"Not yet."

Dean gave a visible sigh of relief.

"Dean...what just happened?"

Dean's eyes darkened "New plan Sam, let's die anywhere but here."

"Deal."

He'd barely finished speaking when the ground began to rumble under them. The bodies, that had fallen silent, began to scream again, and from far down past the rows of deceased, a darkness rushed forward.

Sam pushed himself to his feet and hauled Dean up after him.

"We have to move."

"There's nowhere to move to Sam. He's coming."

"We have to do something Dean, we have to..." He broke off and stared into the trees, there was a figure, standing there, watching them. Dean was shouting in his face, pulling on his arm and the dark thing was getting closer and closer, it was furious, and the figure in the shadows raised his head to the tree tops and then gently dropped it back down to the ground.

Sam squinted in confusion then looked upwards, wondering if there was something there he'd missed, the snow was still coming and the tree tops obscured most of the sky, but there was something else, something Dean said.

"We just have to hold off until the sun comes up. I remember now Sammy. He only has until dawn."

Dawn. The sun was coming. But so was the monster, hurtling towards them so fast that Sam didn't have any more time to think. Without warning he grabbed Dean and forced him to run, he didn't think a broken leg took precedent at this particular moment in time, not that it seemed to be much of an issue anyway. He kept Dean in front of him, pushed him forwards, refusing to look back at the creature that was gaining on them. Ignoring the bodies that screamed and reached out for them. He kept running until he could feel icy breath on the back of his neck, and then he kept running. Because they were so close, so very nearly there, they just had to make it this one last time.

He could almost see it now, up ahead, it was now or never. He fisted his hands in the sodden fabric on Dean's shoulders and threw them both forward onto the ground. Dean grunted in surprise, but Sam clung on, covered their heads with his arms and held on.

He felt the thing come up right on top of them, and just prayed that Dean was right. It was looming above them now, he could tell, he could smell it. Just as he was sure that he'd got it wrong, that the monster would consume them, the darkness behind his squeezed closed eyes seemed to get a little brighter. Dawn.

"Sam..." Dean's muffled voice came from underneath him.

"Just hang on."

Sam felt the presence behind them back away slightly; he could almost see it sniffing the air. Then it growled a long low growl of fury. The ground began to rumble again, wind whipped around them, so cold it seemed to tear right through them, the snow bit at their exposed skin and Sam hung on to his brother for dear life. The monster was still growling and far off they could hear the people screaming. What sounded like trees crashed to the ground around them, but Sam daren't look, fearful that if he did, if either of them dared to peep, it'd snatch them away with it.

"SAM!?" Dean's voice was panicked, frightened that Sam had been stolen away and a corpse had been left in his place.

"DON'T LOOK DEAN!" Sam raised his voice above the din. He was desperate to cover his ears but kept his hands firmly pressed down over their heads. It was still growling, it was furious, but it was retreating, he was sure of it. If they could just hold on a little longer then it'd be gone and they'd be...Sam's thoughts were interrupted as he felt an incredible force close around his calf, before it yanked him backwards. He let out an oof of surprise as he scrambled for purchase on the icy ground, but all his hands could close on was the denim clad leg of his brother.

It had him, it might be retreating but it was taking him with it, and there was no way that Sam would drag Dean along too. He let go.

He vaguely registered Dean's alarmed shouting as his hands slid down his leg, past his boots and onto the snow.

Get out Dean, he thought Get out and live. But he couldn't say it, he wanted to be brave and stoic but God he was so afraid and he knew that if he opened his mouth that the sound of the fear in his voice would cause Dean to do something stupid like take his place. So he didn't say anything. Just thought it and hoped that he knew.

He opened his eyes when he felt an equally powerful force clamp down on his wrist, expecting see his own demise looming, he was actually quite surprised to see Dean, stretched out on his stomach, hanging onto Sam for all that he was worth.

"Dean what are you doing? Let go, you don't need to die too."

"Shut up, you idiot." Dean ground out, his jaw clenched, face set in steely determination, his entire body trembling with the exertion of holding onto Sam. His other arm was wrapped around a thin tree trunk, but he was slipping, losing his grip on the tree to keep from losing his grip on Sam.

Sam felt a yank on his leg and started to glance back over his shoulder before Dean's shout stopped him.

"No! Don't you look at him. Just focus on me Sam, just stay with me."

Sam nodded mutely and clung to Dean's arm, fighting the force pulling at him. It was rapidly becoming more insistent as the sun shone brighter and the woods crashed down around them until finally, with one last ferocious growl, the grip on Sam's calf released and the roar disappeared on the wind.

Xxx

For what seemed like the longest time they lay there, clinging to each other, not daring to let go. The incredible noise had been replaced by an almost eerie silence that seemed to suffocate them. Eventually, a bird twittered somewhere in the trees and normal sound seemed to return to the world. The sun was still rising lazily, chasing away the worst of the shadows and the snow had dwindled to the rare flake fluttering down.

Sam finally dared a glance over his shoulder. There was nothing there. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Is it over?"

Dean relaxed the iron grip on his wrist "I think so."

Tentatively they clambered to their feet, Dean inspecting Sam for any obvious signs of injury.

"How did you know that would work?"

"Something you said, about the dawn. Still don't get how you knew that."

"Dunno, I guess I was just in its head for a while. I've never come across anything like this Sam."

"You're telling me. Well I don't know about you, but I'm thinking we can mull this over after we get out of these damn woods."

"Sounds like a plan. Um, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Which way to the car?"

"Let's try following our footsteps and take it from there."

"Yeah cause I wasn't tramping all the hell over this damn place."

"Come on."

They plodded back the way they'd come, for the last time ever, they hoped. They paused when they arrived at the dead bodies.

"What do we do with them?"

"Nothing we can do Sam. Don't think burning them will do anything. We'll ask Bobby when we get back, see if he knows anything."

Dean glanced at the groove in the snow, the spot that would have been his if not for Sam. The woman was silent now, but her hand still reached out, as if searching for him. Dean shuddered.

"She held your hand."

"Uh huh."

"Why?"

Dean stared at her for a while. "Comfort I guess. They were all still human in some way Sam. He just...controlled them."

"Let's get out of here. Like you say, Bobby might know something that can free them."

Dean didn't say anything, just walked forward, not looking at any of the others, Sam paused only briefly to look at the last man, he'd looked so scared at what he'd become. He pushed the thought aside and trudged after Dean.

Sam was beat, exhausted in a way that he hadn't felt in a long time. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, but at least they could see better, and the sun warmed things a little. They left the bone yard behind them without looking back. Dean didn't want to see it again, and if Sam was honest with himself, he was afraid that if he looked back, they'd be standing there, waving after them, so he just kept walking.

They hadn't gone far when a crunching noise behind them made them both spin around on guard. There was nothing there. Literally nothing, just the trees, where moments ago they had followed a well worn path, behind them now was just foliage, like wherever they had just been was now out of bounds. Dean looked at Sam silently and pressed on.

They'd made a little progress, but they were both exhausted and going slower and slower, Dean especially was starting to feel spectacularly crappy. His leg was complaining loudly and every fibre of his being was starting to protest at the constant movement. Without warning, the world tilted to the side and he had to steady himself against the closest object, unfortunately for him, that object was Sam.

"You ok man?"

"Yeah, just, think last night is catching up with me."

They walked on, but Dean got slower and slower, his leg was really protesting too much and he was seriously out of breath. The world hadn't stood still for some time now and puking up everything he had ever eaten ever, seemed like quite a good plan. He just had to get to the car though, once they did, Sam could take over and he could even take him to a hospital if he'd like. Dean wouldn't complain much at all, in fact it might be quite nice. Just when he thought it couldn't get much worse, fresh pain ripped across his abdomen. He gasped loudly and clutched his stomach. New pain, new, excruciating, bad pain.

He was trembling now, but there was no monster here, he remembered this from earlier. He was going back into shock. He should call out for Sam who was several feet ahead and had clearly not heard his cry. But he couldn't make his mouth work, he couldn't make himself do anything but press his hand tightly against his stomach and hold on.

"Dean?"

Oh thank God.

"Dean, what's wrong man."

Words. Now would be a very good time for words. But his voice was betraying him, leaving him mute and just a little bit petrified all on his own.

He couldn't stop shaking, all he could do was hold on, hold everything in. Sam was in his face, vibrant new concern shining on his tired face. Then his head was jerking down, Dean followed his gaze, down to his hands, to the fresh blood that was seeping through his fingers. Dean met Sam's frightened eyes before Sam gently pulled Dean's hands away. Dean raised up a bloody hand to inspect as Sam uttered a curse. The front of his shirt was dark and sticky with blood.

Dean's voice returned to him. "Sam..."

Then he crumpled to the ground.

Thanks for reading, the next chapter will be up soon.