Beware the Judderman 9/10
Title: Beware The Judderman Chapter 9
Author: spnmermaid
Rating: PG-13
Genre/pairing: Gen
Characters: Dean W, Sam W
Word count: 7000 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. Here it is folks, the last chapter and epilogue are complete. I would like to offer my extreme thanks to anyone who has read and particularly reviewed this story. For those of you who have followed it from the start, I am genuinely sorry for the long pauses between updates. I hope that you enjoy the ending and check out my other stories if you're interested.
Also, if anyone is interested, check out the Beware the Judderman advert on youtube, it partly inspired this story and it's pretty cool.
Beware The Judderman My Dear When the Moon is Fat.
Sharp of Tongue and Spindle Limbed he is
And Cunning
With Sweetened Talk of Dreams and Bliss and The Deliciousness of Judders
But Dreams Though Sweet Have Teeth My Dear
And Sharpened Ones At That
Beware The Judderman My Dear When the Moon Is Fat.
"Dean?" Oh God Dean." Sam dropped to his knees next to his brother. He pulled the hem of his shirt up. The Yeti wound had reopened, it was bleeding sluggishly like the injury had only just happened. But the edges were raw, the skin pulled even further apart from all the acrobatics Dean had been up to. Not to mention all the infection he'd been exposed to.
"Shit." He should have seen this coming, Dean had barely been conscious before, not to mention the fact that he'd jumped off a freaking cliff.
"Dean? Dean, tell me what to do."
His abdominal wound was still bleeding steadily, but how much blood did Dean had left to lose? Had it been replenished or just paused while they were on their little adventure? He hauled Dean's torso upright and wriggled his arms out of the flannel shirt that he'd bundled him into earlier in an attempt to keep him warm. He didn't know what had happened to the bandages that he'd bound Dean in earlier, but he had to do something now to stem the flow of blood.
The shirt was soaking and no doubt filthy, but Sam had nothing else, everything he'd had, he'd lost along the way. He couldn't make his clumsy fingers tear at the material, so he just wrapped is as best as he could around the wound.
He slapped Dean's cheek softly; his skin was clammy to the touch, his face pale and gaunt.
"Dean, open your eyes man." When that didn't work, he slapped him hard, panicking, knowing it was stupid, but needing to do something. To his surprise, Dean groaned.
"Dean? Dean talk to me."
"S'going on?" His eyes were bleary with confusion, they flickered about their surroundings before settling on Sam's face before Dean craned his neck to look down at himself.
"Oh yeah. That. Shit." The trembling started anew, stupid shock giving them even more to worry about.
"It's ok, we should be able to make it back to the car now. That thing was keeping us lost before, we're back now...It'll be ok. Do you think you can walk?"
Dean nodded without speaking and Sam gently helped him into a sitting position. He stopped short when he noticed the blood stained snow in the spot Dean's head had been. He twisted around to get a better look; Dean had a decidedly nasty looking head wound. Where the hell had he got that?
The cliff. It all snapped into place at the same time as Dean gave wheeze of pain and started coughing up blood.
Sam couldn't speak, he couldn't move. He'd thrown himself off the cliff and Sam thought he'd escaped with a broken leg. But of course it wasn't that simple, Dean's earlier words echoed back to him.
"We can't die here Sam. Nothing dies here."
But they weren't there anymore, it wasn't keeping them alive and Dean had jumped off a cliff and his injuries were catching up with him.
"Sam." Dean's voice was strained and wheezy.
"Can't...breathe." He coughed and even more blood spattered onto the pristine snow.
Dean was dying. That wasn't fair. After all that they'd been through last night, it wasn't fair.
"Tell me where it hurts Dean."
"Everywhere...head...side." His hand was pressed to his right side, Sam could just about make out the bruises that were beginning to form.
"It'll be ok, we just have to get you to a hospital. The injuries seem to be happening one by one. We can make it."
"Can't..."
Sam didn't let him finished, as carefully as he could, he pulled Dean to his feet, careful not to aggravate anything further.
"Lean on me. Just walk."
They'd barely taken two painstakingly slow steps when Dean put pressure on his busted leg and let out an animal cry of pain.
Broken then. Very very broken. Fine.
"It's ok, I'll do most of the work. You just...hop."
"Shit Sam. Seriously, shit." Dean was panicking, phantom injuries were making themselves known all over his body. Sam thought he'd probably be panicking too in the circumstances. Hell, he was panicking, but one of them had to keep it together.
They staggered along, Sam practically carrying Dean on his hip.
"Sam...stop. Not gonna...hurts too much. I...won't...make it."
Without asking, Sam swung Dean up over his shoulder, leaving his right side free. He would get his brother out of here alive or die trying.
Xxx
The world was a blur of white and black, he wondered when it had started snowing again, it wasn't so creepy this time around. It was nice, gentle, it made him feel safe. But the black was creeping in more and more. Staying for longer each time, it seemed like every time he blinked, he lost time.
The only real constant was the pain and the sound of laboured breathing. Who it came from he couldn't be sure. The white was blinding him, the sun was reflecting off it, dazzling him. He closed his eyes, let the black was over him like a wave, comforting, unaware.
He opened his eyes again when he heard a grunt, then the world dipped, like a crappy roller coaster and he felt himself rolling, back onto the cold cold ground. Not that he could feel the cold too much anymore, come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt anything besides the pain. His toes had certainly lost contact with the mothership a long time ago.
He tried to groan but it turned into another wracking cough, it split him down the middle and left a metallic taste in his mouth.
He focused his bleary eyes on Sam, where he'd apparently stumbled; he was pushing himself to his feet. He looked like crap. And if Sam was looking that bad then he really didn't want to know what the hell he himself looked like.
Sam shuffled over and wordlessly tugged at him again.
"No." Huh, apparently his voice still worked, that was something considering that each breath felt like it was coming through a straw.
"Come on Dean, it can't be too much further."
"Please Sam...hurts." Fantastic, he'd resorted to whining.
"Dean I can't leave you here, I might not be able to find you again."
He was drifting again, Sam was becoming a fuzzy blur in front of him. He looked so tired. Dean was tired, breathing was too much effort and he just wanted to sleep.
"S'okay...doesn't hurt...mu..." The world faded away, only to be brought back with a stinging slap to the face. Hadn't they been here before?
"Dammit Dean, tonight has been too crappy for you to just quit."
"'m sry Sam. End...of the line."
Sam stubbornly ignored him and tried to sling him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift again.
"NO! Please...no carrying...can't breathe."
Sam stopped and looked at him, weighing his options, the snow landed in his hair, on his clothes, making him look uncannily like the abominable snowman. Hmm, that was too close to a Yeti, and that was how they'd ended up here in the first place. He moved his head away and left Sam to ponder their options. In Dean's opinion they were very low on options, but if it would make Sam feel better.
He watched the snow fall, it was thick and pure and wonderful. The great eraser, it would cover all signs of their earlier struggles, it would wipe the slate clean and make everything new. Fair enough it might turn him into a human popsicle too, but that was ok. It was ok because he wasn't cold any more, and it really didn't hurt too much now either. He let himself float.
He opened his eyes again when he felt movement. The world was sliding away, he should panic, warn Sam that the ground was moving, but his mouth was as fuzzy as his brain. So instead he tried to figure out why it was sliding, he started intently as the ground bumped under his legs, trees and bushes appeared into view before fading away into the distance. He stared at his legs while they bumped along, every jolt spiking dull pain through his leg. That must have been what woke him, the world sliding away. He hoped Sam was holding onto something solid. His leg really was bent at a weird angle. His jeans were sodden and his boots were probably ruined. Damn, he liked those boots. But why was the world sliding away. Then he noticed the sensation under his arms, he let his head loll left and then right. Two, equally paw like hands were gripping him. Sam, Sam was behind him. Oh. Sam was pulling him. He could hear his strained breathing. That boy was earning a gold star tonight.
"Smmm." Try again.
"Sam?"
"Yeah Dean?" Sam didn't stop.
"You'll be ok." And the world slid away one last time.
Xxx
Sam twisted himself round to look at his brother's face. He was ghostly pale apart from the dark circles under his sunken eyes and the flecks of blood that he'd coughed up.
"Dean? Oh God, Dean! Don't be dead. Please don't be dead."
He eased his brother onto the ground and pressed his fingers to his pulse. He couldn't feel anything. Of course, he hadn't been able to feel anything in his hands for a long time, his fingers were wrinkled and pruney and a sickening colour that promised frostbite might be paying him a visit very soon. He laid his ear to Dean's mouth and listened, not daring to move.
It was faint, but it was there, soft cold breaths on his cheek, accompanied by a painful wheezing sound. That was good enough for him. He couldn't afford to stop.
The snow was coming down hard again, it was a hell of a snowstorm they'd stumbled into. He wasn't sure how long he could hold on for. Every step was painful and the added burden of his deadweight brother wasn't helping. More than once he stumbled and struggled to get up again.
He groaned as he realised that he couldn't see anything, the snow was too thick, he had no idea where he was going or even if he was going in circles.
And then, mercifully, he found himself in a clearing. A big white field of clearing, and they'd been here before. The church! They found the church again. Maybe there was someone inside who could help, or maybe he could leave Dean there in the warm and go and get help. He'd have to go on foot, he had no idea what had happened to his cell phone, not that there'd been any signal anyway.
He hauled his precious cargo towards the building that loomed out of the snow. As he got closer he could see the carnage that had ripped through the churchyard all those hours ago. The headstones that had been torn away lay strewn on the ground, and the stone angels now faced off towards the trees, no longer able to stand vigil over the dead. If possible it looked even more deserted than it had last night, but softly, barely audible above the heavy silence that the snow brought with it and his own laboured breathing, he heard something.
At least he thought he did. Voices. Soft muffling that came from inside the old building. People. People with clothing and cell phones and directions and help.
He laid Dean flat on the snow, suddenly finding the weight just too heavy.
"I'll be right back Dean, I'm going to get help." All he had to do was drag himself across the clearing, through the destruction in the churchyard, open the heavy doors and scream at whoever was there to help him, then he could be back with Dean in a matter of seconds.
But it was so hard, walking shouldn't be this hard, but every time his feet sank down into the snow it felt like quicksand when he pulled it back out. But eventually he made it; he staggered through the gate that hung forlornly off its hinges and past the stone angels with their backs to him. He was certain he could hear voices now, they would help him.
He stumbled on his uncooperative feet and fell bodily against the church door, letting out an oof of pain. Then, drawing on every ounce of energy he had left, he forced himself upright, gripped the metal doorknob and swung open the heavy door, his mouth already open to shout out to anyone and everyone inside.
"Sammy?"
His cry died on his lips.
"Sammy where are you?"
Dean was awake, Dean needed him. He stepped back and clicked the groaning door back into place. He started back towards his brother, he was lighter on his feet now, because Dean was awake and freaked and alone. He was actually moving pretty quickly, he could see the blur that was his brother up ahead, wriggling as he tried to move his broken body, he was searching for him.
"Dean, it's ok, I'm here." He slid to his knees in the snow, Dean's eyes were bright and feverish.
"Sammy? Thank God. Where were you?"
"Sorry, I went to the church to try and get help."
"Anyone there?" And help him there was just so much fear on his brother's face.
"No one. It was empty."
Dean an almost imperceptible nod, he looked so defeated, he couldn't even walk to save himself.
It was up to Sam, it was all up to Sam. Both their lives were flickering in his frozen hands.
Once more he fisted his hands in Dean's jacket. Dean was protesting, swatting clumsily at him, but he couldn't let go while he had any strength (or fingers) left.
He only registered bits of what Dean said, he just didn't have the energy for multitasking right now, and he just caught snippets of,
"Sam please-can bring back help-lost-Sam, you're bleeding." Huh, that one seemed to register, probably because a distant part of his brain had been nagging him about the fact that something wet was dripping into one eye. He released Dean and let him slump against his legs as he raised one hand to his temple. It came away red. Oh. Right. He'd hit his head earlier, bashed it pretty hard actually, it hadn't bled too much at the time, it had mainly looked red and angry. Now it seemed like every blood cell in his body had found its way to the exit.
Come to think of it, he was kind of dizzy too and he felt...
Without much warning he crashed to all fours and threw up. Bile spilled out onto the snow, he hadn't much left in his stomach after his little choking escapade earlier.
He closed his eyes and willed everything to just slow down, but the world spun behind his closed eyelids and threatened to spill him over into unconsciousness. He couldn't do that. Later, but not now, not when one life so desperately depended on him.
He could hear Dean's weak voice calling his name and he wanted to respond but he was afraid that if he made any movement he would teeter over the precipice and pass out. So he just concentrated on breathing, deep, nauseating breaths in and out until he dared to open his eyes.
The world was still at a wonky angle but it was staying still enough, so he got to his feet and grabbed hold of his brother, unable to answer any of the questions Dean was firing at him. Dean, who wasn't even holding onto his stomach anymore, whose skin was the same ghastly shade of pale as many corpses that Sam had seen in his time. Dean, who even now was just concerned about little Sammy.
He fell. He took one step back and his body refused to do any more. His head was throbbing and all he wanted to do was sleep it off, but sleeping it off in this weather would mean both of their deaths. He propped himself up on shaking arms, he tried to get his legs under him but they gave out and he careened forwards once more. He waited for the ground to rush up and meet him, but instead a pair of strong hands caught him before he hit.
Oh God, the monster. It had found them, it had let them think they'd escaped, that they had a chance, but all it had done was wait and now it would take what it wanted with ease.
But he wasn't being eaten and the hands were surprisingly gentle, and he was pretty sure the monster wouldn't be calling him son.
The scent of whiskey and motor oil stirred something in him and he cracked open his bleary eyes. He struggled to focus on the face in front of him, but it was familiar, he knew it, just like he knew that in normal circumstances, he'd be laughing at the sight of the bulky puffer jacket the wearer was bundled into.
Then, as his vision cleared it all came rushing back to him.
Bobby.
He was right there, solid and real, like a hairy angel sent to save them. Frantic concern was etched onto his features, Sam could see his lips moving but he couldn't hear anything over the repeated chorus of Hallelujah that was going round and round in his head.
His hand reached out of its own accord then, he watched as it softly poked at the older man's face, his numb fingers picked up the prickle of whiskers and then poked a bit more, just to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating.
"Are you real?"
"...the hell have you two gotten yourselves into this time?" Ooh, sound was returning, that was good; the world seemed to have straightened itself out a bit too.
"Dammit Sam, what happened here?"
Sam just gaped, open mouthed and confused. "You're not going to kill yourself and then vanish are you?"
If it was possible, Bobby looked even more stricken.
"Pull yourself together boy!" Bobby sounded angry now, or maybe he was just scared, "What happened to your brother?"
Dean! Crap, Dean was still bleeding out all over the snow, he had to focus for just a little while longer. It took considerable effort, but he forced his mind back to full awareness.
"Bobby."
"That's right Sam, now if I let you go you won't fall will you?"
Sam shook his head and Bobby tentatively released his firm grip. He inspected Sam's face for signs that he was about to keel over before scurrying behind him to his brother.
For a minute Sam just knelt there in the snow, letting Bobby take charge while the world realigned itself. He could hear Bobby swearing and trying to rouse Dean, who in turn responded with a series of groans and rattling breaths.
When he finally felt like he could be of some use again, he turned around. Bobby was wriggling out of the enormous puffer jacket he was wearing and then tugging off Dean's own soaking layers before bundling the semi-conscious man into the coat.
"Sam, what happened?"
"Yeti...and he fell."
"Damn it! Dean, can you hear me son?"
"What are you doing here Bobby?"
"You sound like you're not pleased to see me."
"I am, it's just...how are you here?"
"You were supposed to check in three days ago kid. I've been looking for you."
"Three days? What are you talking about? We're supposed to check in with you this afternoon."
"Sam, you've been missing for days."
That made no sense, his watch told him that only hours had passed, and it was right, the sun had gone down last night, and it was only when it came back up that they escaped.
He came back to the present when Bobby gave a hiss at the sight of the Yeti wound.
"We need to get your brother to a hospital now. He's hurt bad Sam."
The tone in Bobby's voice wasn't comforting, it was scary. It didn't say that Dean would be alright when they got him to hospital, it said that Dean probably wouldn't make it to hospital. Sam watched dumbfounded as Bobby lifted Dean as best he could.
"Sam, I can carry him. Can you walk? Sam! Can you walk?"
Sam only nodded; words had escaped him again, because his brother was going to die.
Bobby paused when he reached the tree line and looked back to make sure Sam was following.
"Wait, did you check the church? We could use all the help we can get right now Sam."
"No. There was no one there to help us."
Bobby grunted and hefted Dean higher and set off again.
Sam glanced back at the grey church that loomed out of the snow. It was true, there was no one there that could help them. But it wasn't empty.
He'd swung open the door to reveal a silent building that was full of people. They sat in the pews with their heads bowed as if in prayer. Sam had watched as their heads lifted in unison and they turned towards him. Dozens of silent faces turned to him and Sam hadn't been able to speak as he'd seen their faces, each one was twisted in a voiceless scream. Apart from one man standing at the front of the church, his features were in shadow, but he raised a finger to his lips and their heads dropped slowly down again. And Sam had been able to see right through each one of them.
He'd closed the door and left them there, that place wasn't meant for him and they'd given them all the help they could.
Xxx
Sam decided that Dean looked kind of stupid in a puffer jacket. But he suspected that might be partly out of jealousy that Dean was wearing something warm and dry and didn't have to exert any energy at all, not like him and poor Bobby who was panting like a smoker.
Sam didn't know how long they'd been walking; apparently he couldn't trust his watch anymore.
But Dean's breathing was growing increasingly shallow and he hadn't made any indication that he was at all alert in a good long while.
Sam and Bobby had resorted to carrying him together, Sam had the legs and Bobby the arms, with the rest of Dean bouncing along between them and no doubt making all his injuries ten times worse.
Sam was positive that his brother was going to die, those shallow breaths had a rattle to them and all Sam could think was deathrattledeathrattledeathr attle.
And then suddenly, there it was. A new, foreign sound in this world. It was without a doubt the most beautiful sound that Sam had ever heard. Traffic.
Slow, snow cautious traffic, but it was there, civilisation. And even more beautiful was the Impala. Looking cold and abandoned under a thick layer of snow, but there all the same.
Bobby headed for another beat up car though, one that wasn't quite so buried under mounds of snow. It didn't matter though; the Impala would wait there patiently for her owner to return.
Sam once again found himself holding the dead weight of his brother not dead not dead not dead. While Bobby dug around in his pocket for the keys. The next thing he knew he was in the back seat, the worn upholstery felt like heaven against his weary limbs. And Dean was leaning against him, the only signs of life that rattling breathing. Then Bobby was diving comically into the front seat and gunning the engine, blasting the heater prematurely and kicking up snow as he sped dangerously down the road. They fishtailed a few times on ice and skidded past honking cars on their way, but Bobby would take care of them now.
Sam finally let go.
Xxx
It was warm. At least he thought it was. He couldn't quite remember what warm felt like.
Everything felt so heavy. After a small struggle he managed to peep open his eyes, he was rewarded with a haze of white. Great. More snow. But it was too much effort to keep his eyes open so he let them fall closed again.
The next time he opened his eyes it was dark. But he was still warm and there was a monotonous beeping coming from somewhere, so he figured he could just stay away for a little bit longer. As long as the beeping wasn't a bomb and he was supposed to stop it, he really didn't think he was up to it right now. He drifted off again thinking about which wire he should cut.
When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't alone. To be fair, he might have had company this whole time, but he just hadn't been awake enough to notice. He tried to manoeuvre his stiff body, but let out a hiss as pain rushed through him. Then a face appeared in front of him, talking excitedly and pushing a button frantically. He tried to say something, but someone had stuffed his mouth full of cotton and sleep was inviting him to stay just a bit longer.
There was a voice that was droning on, muttering words that he couldn't make sense of. Nobody seemed to be answering, so he opened his mouth to tell it to shut up, couldn't they tell he was trying to sleep here. But then he decided that maybe he'd had enough of sleeping for now.
He opened his eyes. The droning was coming from a man in front of a field of sheep on the TV that was hung on brackets on the wall. He let his eyes slide down his body, everything seemed to be present and correct, apart from he had apparently grown an extra foot, because there were three feet resting on the bed instead of two. No wait. Four feet. Because one of his legs was suspended in the air, encased in one hell of a cast. He followed the other two feet to the owner.
Sam was slouched in a chair with his feet propped up on the bed, his nose stuck in a magazine. He had dark circles under his eyes and a series of stitches held closed the wound on his head. But he was still Sam.
"Hey." Ouch, that came out croakier than he'd expected.
The magazine dropped to the floor and Sam was in his face again.
"Dean." Sam was positively beaming. "It's good to see you man."
"You too. You look like crap by the way."
Sam's laugh was ever so slightly bordering on hysteria.
Dean had to swallow a couple of times to make his dry throat work, "You ok? You look like you should be in this bed instead of me."
"Checked myself out. Wanted to be here when you woke up."
"You're ok though?"
"I'm fine, they thawed me out and stitched me back together. Mild concussion, hypothermia. I did hang around until they'd fixed the frostbite. I didn't really feel like losing any toes."
Dean snorted a laugh at that and instantly regretted it when his ribs let out a squeal of protest, he snaked a hand across his midsection, unwilling to pull down the blankets.
"Come on then Sam, what's the verdict."
"You nearly died. I mean, really nearly died. The amount of blood they had to give you. Antibiotics, surgery, internal injuries, broken ribs, shattered leg. You name it, you got it. By the way, you're going to set off metal detectors for the rest of your life. You've got so many pins in your leg, I'm surprised you're not rattling."
"Just another day at the office then?"
"I've never seen anything like that Dean. I still...Bobby's trying to figure out what it was."
"Bobby...Bobby was there."
"Yeah, he was looking for us. We were gone for three days."
"What?"
"Don't ask me, that was the weirdest night of my life."
Dean felt his eyes drifting shut again.
"Get some rest Dean. We'll talk later."
Dean slept.
Xxx
"Don't be stupid Dean, you've just had major surgery."
"Please. I'm fine. I'm ready."
"Oh really? If something wants you dead, all it has to do is steal your crutches and you'll be rolling on the floor like a helpless kitten."
"Hey! I'm more like a Tiger!"
"Boys! Knock it off; you're giving me a headache."
Dean sank back against the pillows; he was still so pale that he nearly disappeared against the white bedding.
Sam huffed out a sigh and looked at his brother, who just yesterday had been administered another hefty dose of antibiotics to combat an infection. No doubt the result of exposing an open wound to all manner of dirt and grime.
His brother still looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes stood out in stark contrast on his colourless face. He slept for most of the day, waking up at intervals and pretending that he felt fine, he'd be ok once he got out of hospital. But the Doctors insisted he wasn't ready and Sam for once, refused point blank to let his brother discharge himself. After what had happened, he wasn't taking any chances.
Bobby was scowling at them, no doubt wishing that they were having this conversation in his house where Whiskey wasn't quite so frowned upon.
"Dean, stop being an idiot. You're not ready to hunt this...thing! And my back can't cope with dragging your stubborn ass out of the middle of nowhere again. And Sam, be nice to your brother, he's not well."
Dean smirked and Sam pouted.
"Now, let's try again. What did it look like?"
"It was big!"
"And...dark." Sam helpfully interjected.
"Big and dark?" Bobby muttered an expletive under his breath.
"Well it was...erm..." Sam shot a look at his brother who was looking slightly perplexed as well.
"...It was hard to see. We never saw it properly."
"It had scary eyes." Dean piped in.
"Yeah! Its eyes were scary and if you looked at them, it kind of hypnotised you. And then it stole our bodies and made us appear and kill ourselves and it poured this weird stuff down our throats."
Bobby just blinked.
"Now that I said it out loud it sounds a bit farfetched." Sam sank back down into his chair by the side of Dean's bed, letting Dean take the floor.
"It was weird Bobby. I mean, weird even for us. I never got a good look at it; it was always in the shadows or in Sam or those bodies. We were...somewhere else."
"But it vanished when the sun came up? Which in reality was actually three days later?" Bobby scratched at his beard absentmindedly. "Once you boys were stable, I took a hunter friend with me back out to the woods."
Dean shot up in a panic, "Bobby, are you crazy? You..."
"Relax, it was daylight, and I took precautions. Anyway, going on what Sam said, I retraced your steps as best I could. It had stopped snowing as well so it wasn't hard to follow your tracks. But there was nothing there. No bodies, no fallen trees, no blood." He paused, studying their faces, "Even your footprints just...appeared."
"Appeared?"
"I don't know what to tell you Dean, you're tracks just started in the middle of the snow. There was nothing around, just trees. Not only that, there was no EMF, no nothing. The only sign that anything supernatural had happened was that church. I spoke to the Parish Vicar, they hardly use that building anymore, just for special occasions, but he said that nothing like that has ever happened before. He said it was like a whirlwind just came through and destroyed only the headstones. That and the bloody mess that was left inside." He looked pointedly at Dean.
"What? That wasn't my fault; I was being dragged through the freaking woods when cleanup time was going on."
"The point is there's nothing there."
"It was real Bobby."
"I'm not saying it wasn't Sam. I'm saying that there's nothing there now. There probably won't be anything there ever again. Apart from those Yeti attacks and the destruction of the church, there hasn't been anything suspicious happening there. Especially not a butt load of missing people."
Sam couldn't believe it, "But some of those bodies had been there for years, couldn't it be that it happened so rarely that it didn't look like a pattern?"
"Sam, I'm telling you there's nothing. Whatever you boys found, it's gone now. The only thing I have, and it might not be anything, is reports, sometimes worldwide, of vandalised churchyards. Usually fairy remote, fine one night and the next they look like someone's taken a sledgehammer to them, and any statues with eyes...they're facing away, not destroyed, just moved." He tried to read the expression on their faces before quickly adding, "But that could be anything, bored teenagers, a prank, anything. The cases are too widely spread, too far apart to be a pattern."
"How do we find it then, how do we stop it." Sam was getting frustrated waiting for answers.
Bobby and Dean looked at each other before Dean muttered,
"We don't."
"What? Dean, you saw what it was like, we can't just let it keep going."
"That's exactly what we're going to do Sam."
"But those people, it'll just keep on killing. Not killing though! Taking them! Keeping them! It's our job Dean."
"We barely made it out Sam," Dean's voice was calm, controlled, "It was too close this time. And we don't know what it is, how to find it, how to kill it. This one's done."
"We'll keep looking, we'll find a pattern, we'll take care of it."
"We're not going back there Sam. We won't make it out this time."
"It's just another Demon Dean."
"It's not a Demon."
Sam was taken aback, "What is it then."
Dean glanced from Sam to Bobby and back to Sam, "Something else."
Xxx
"Sammy, will you get off me, I can walk."
Dean had finally been allowed out of hospital under strict instructions to take it easy, Sam was actually glad that his brother had broken his leg; it meant that he had very little choice but to follow the Doctors orders.
Sam had pulled the car as close to Bobby's front door as possible, the driveway was icy and covered in a fresh blanketing of snow. Dean was attempting to pick his way to the house on his crutches, and Sam winced when he hit a frozen puddle and landed on his back with a thud.
"You ok?"
"Fine. Almost forgot what the feeling of snow on my back was like. Help me up."
Sam hauled his brother to his feet and got him leaning against the car before stooping to pick up his fallen crutches. He twirled one absentmindedly in his hand before speaking.
"Dean, are we really not going to hunt this thing down?"
Dean sighed "We've been over this; we don't even know what it is."
"But we could find out, it could attack more people."
"It probably will."
"Dean..."
"Sam, I can't go back there. Literally, thank God. But even if we could, I don't think it's something we can fight. It's another world Sam, and I know it's selfish, but I don't want you or me or Bobby to end up there. There was something about this one that...I don't know, scared me I guess."
"Not surprised, you nearly died. Several times!"
"It's not just that, it's hard to explain, but I can't...I won't go back there, and I won't let you try to either."
"What about those people?"
"There's nothing we can do for them?"
Sam studied his brother, propped up against the car, holding himself stiffly, the journey to Bobby's had been the longest he'd been out of bed since it had happened. He looked beat to hell and if Sam was honest with himself, he really didn't want to go back to that place either. But he just couldn't let it go.
"Someone saved us you know."
"What?"
"I saw someone, just a shadow, before the sun came up, that's how I knew what to do."
"I didn't see anyone."
"Yes you did, in the church, before it took you."
"Sam I was in shock, I was delirious, there was no one there."
"But there was, I went back to look for help and they were there, all of them. Someone saved us Dean."
Dean was quiet for a long time; Sam was starting to wonder if he'd dropped off sitting up when he spoke,
"I know."
"What? Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I knew that you'd get a stick up your ass about it. I didn't see anyone out there anyway, I just...knew stuff."
"The sun?"
"I guess."
"They're trapped there Dean, they...he...whoever saved us, and we're just going to leave them there because we're too scared to go back?"
"It's not just that Sam. I don't think...I know that we can't find it again, it's gone for us."
"How do you know?"
Dean pulled his mouth into a smile that reminded Sam too much of when they were in the woods,
"I just know."
Sam looked down at the crutch he was still fiddling with, his brother was right, of course he was, he'd known himself all this time hadn't he, but that didn't stop him from feeling any less guilty. He handed Dean his crutch back and leaned on the car next to him. Dean had been through more than him, it was written across his stomach, in his leg, the stitched up head wound. Dean had leapt off a cliff to save his brother and Sam wanted to drag him back there. He remembered the images of Dean that appeared before him, killing themselves in different ways, how he felt seeing his brother's blood spurt out all over the clean white snow. How helpless he felt staring down at Dean's broken body, the spaces saved for them among the dead. No, he couldn't make Dean look for that place again even if it was possible.
"Ok. I know, you're right. But it'll go after people again."
"Then we just have to hope that whatever saved us, saves them too."
"Why did you jump? You knew what was waiting."
"It's my job Sammy, you know that."
Of course, but it was Sam's job to keep Dean safe too. He fixed his gaze on his toes while he thought about just how lucky they'd been. He felt the reassuring pat of Dean's hand on his back and then let out a far too girlish squeal as his brother shoved a handful of snow down the back of his neck.
"Damn it Dean!"
Dean was laughing in that infuriating childish way that Sam didn't realise he'd missed and despite himself, Sam found that he was laughing as well, especially when he nailed Dean in the head with a snowball. After a few more missiles were fired in either direction, Dean called truce and they shuffled into the house together, Dean letting Sam help him up the slippery steps. Dean hopped over the threshold and turned to his brother.
"I tell you what Sammy, I still like the snow."
Sam let out a muffled curse as Dean shoved a snowball into his face.
Author: spnmermaid
Rating: PG-13
Genre/pairing: Gen
Characters: Dean W, Sam W
Word count: 7000 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. Here it is folks, the last chapter and epilogue are complete. I would like to offer my extreme thanks to anyone who has read and particularly reviewed this story. For those of you who have followed it from the start, I am genuinely sorry for the long pauses between updates. I hope that you enjoy the ending and check out my other stories if you're interested.
Also, if anyone is interested, check out the Beware the Judderman advert on youtube, it partly inspired this story and it's pretty cool.
Beware The Judderman My Dear When the Moon is Fat.
Sharp of Tongue and Spindle Limbed he is
And Cunning
With Sweetened Talk of Dreams and Bliss and The Deliciousness of Judders
But Dreams Though Sweet Have Teeth My Dear
And Sharpened Ones At That
Beware The Judderman My Dear When the Moon Is Fat.
"Dean?" Oh God Dean." Sam dropped to his knees next to his brother. He pulled the hem of his shirt up. The Yeti wound had reopened, it was bleeding sluggishly like the injury had only just happened. But the edges were raw, the skin pulled even further apart from all the acrobatics Dean had been up to. Not to mention all the infection he'd been exposed to.
"Shit." He should have seen this coming, Dean had barely been conscious before, not to mention the fact that he'd jumped off a freaking cliff.
"Dean? Dean, tell me what to do."
His abdominal wound was still bleeding steadily, but how much blood did Dean had left to lose? Had it been replenished or just paused while they were on their little adventure? He hauled Dean's torso upright and wriggled his arms out of the flannel shirt that he'd bundled him into earlier in an attempt to keep him warm. He didn't know what had happened to the bandages that he'd bound Dean in earlier, but he had to do something now to stem the flow of blood.
The shirt was soaking and no doubt filthy, but Sam had nothing else, everything he'd had, he'd lost along the way. He couldn't make his clumsy fingers tear at the material, so he just wrapped is as best as he could around the wound.
He slapped Dean's cheek softly; his skin was clammy to the touch, his face pale and gaunt.
"Dean, open your eyes man." When that didn't work, he slapped him hard, panicking, knowing it was stupid, but needing to do something. To his surprise, Dean groaned.
"Dean? Dean talk to me."
"S'going on?" His eyes were bleary with confusion, they flickered about their surroundings before settling on Sam's face before Dean craned his neck to look down at himself.
"Oh yeah. That. Shit." The trembling started anew, stupid shock giving them even more to worry about.
"It's ok, we should be able to make it back to the car now. That thing was keeping us lost before, we're back now...It'll be ok. Do you think you can walk?"
Dean nodded without speaking and Sam gently helped him into a sitting position. He stopped short when he noticed the blood stained snow in the spot Dean's head had been. He twisted around to get a better look; Dean had a decidedly nasty looking head wound. Where the hell had he got that?
The cliff. It all snapped into place at the same time as Dean gave wheeze of pain and started coughing up blood.
Sam couldn't speak, he couldn't move. He'd thrown himself off the cliff and Sam thought he'd escaped with a broken leg. But of course it wasn't that simple, Dean's earlier words echoed back to him.
"We can't die here Sam. Nothing dies here."
But they weren't there anymore, it wasn't keeping them alive and Dean had jumped off a cliff and his injuries were catching up with him.
"Sam." Dean's voice was strained and wheezy.
"Can't...breathe." He coughed and even more blood spattered onto the pristine snow.
Dean was dying. That wasn't fair. After all that they'd been through last night, it wasn't fair.
"Tell me where it hurts Dean."
"Everywhere...head...side." His hand was pressed to his right side, Sam could just about make out the bruises that were beginning to form.
"It'll be ok, we just have to get you to a hospital. The injuries seem to be happening one by one. We can make it."
"Can't..."
Sam didn't let him finished, as carefully as he could, he pulled Dean to his feet, careful not to aggravate anything further.
"Lean on me. Just walk."
They'd barely taken two painstakingly slow steps when Dean put pressure on his busted leg and let out an animal cry of pain.
Broken then. Very very broken. Fine.
"It's ok, I'll do most of the work. You just...hop."
"Shit Sam. Seriously, shit." Dean was panicking, phantom injuries were making themselves known all over his body. Sam thought he'd probably be panicking too in the circumstances. Hell, he was panicking, but one of them had to keep it together.
They staggered along, Sam practically carrying Dean on his hip.
"Sam...stop. Not gonna...hurts too much. I...won't...make it."
Without asking, Sam swung Dean up over his shoulder, leaving his right side free. He would get his brother out of here alive or die trying.
Xxx
The world was a blur of white and black, he wondered when it had started snowing again, it wasn't so creepy this time around. It was nice, gentle, it made him feel safe. But the black was creeping in more and more. Staying for longer each time, it seemed like every time he blinked, he lost time.
The only real constant was the pain and the sound of laboured breathing. Who it came from he couldn't be sure. The white was blinding him, the sun was reflecting off it, dazzling him. He closed his eyes, let the black was over him like a wave, comforting, unaware.
He opened his eyes again when he heard a grunt, then the world dipped, like a crappy roller coaster and he felt himself rolling, back onto the cold cold ground. Not that he could feel the cold too much anymore, come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt anything besides the pain. His toes had certainly lost contact with the mothership a long time ago.
He tried to groan but it turned into another wracking cough, it split him down the middle and left a metallic taste in his mouth.
He focused his bleary eyes on Sam, where he'd apparently stumbled; he was pushing himself to his feet. He looked like crap. And if Sam was looking that bad then he really didn't want to know what the hell he himself looked like.
Sam shuffled over and wordlessly tugged at him again.
"No." Huh, apparently his voice still worked, that was something considering that each breath felt like it was coming through a straw.
"Come on Dean, it can't be too much further."
"Please Sam...hurts." Fantastic, he'd resorted to whining.
"Dean I can't leave you here, I might not be able to find you again."
He was drifting again, Sam was becoming a fuzzy blur in front of him. He looked so tired. Dean was tired, breathing was too much effort and he just wanted to sleep.
"S'okay...doesn't hurt...mu..." The world faded away, only to be brought back with a stinging slap to the face. Hadn't they been here before?
"Dammit Dean, tonight has been too crappy for you to just quit."
"'m sry Sam. End...of the line."
Sam stubbornly ignored him and tried to sling him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift again.
"NO! Please...no carrying...can't breathe."
Sam stopped and looked at him, weighing his options, the snow landed in his hair, on his clothes, making him look uncannily like the abominable snowman. Hmm, that was too close to a Yeti, and that was how they'd ended up here in the first place. He moved his head away and left Sam to ponder their options. In Dean's opinion they were very low on options, but if it would make Sam feel better.
He watched the snow fall, it was thick and pure and wonderful. The great eraser, it would cover all signs of their earlier struggles, it would wipe the slate clean and make everything new. Fair enough it might turn him into a human popsicle too, but that was ok. It was ok because he wasn't cold any more, and it really didn't hurt too much now either. He let himself float.
He opened his eyes again when he felt movement. The world was sliding away, he should panic, warn Sam that the ground was moving, but his mouth was as fuzzy as his brain. So instead he tried to figure out why it was sliding, he started intently as the ground bumped under his legs, trees and bushes appeared into view before fading away into the distance. He stared at his legs while they bumped along, every jolt spiking dull pain through his leg. That must have been what woke him, the world sliding away. He hoped Sam was holding onto something solid. His leg really was bent at a weird angle. His jeans were sodden and his boots were probably ruined. Damn, he liked those boots. But why was the world sliding away. Then he noticed the sensation under his arms, he let his head loll left and then right. Two, equally paw like hands were gripping him. Sam, Sam was behind him. Oh. Sam was pulling him. He could hear his strained breathing. That boy was earning a gold star tonight.
"Smmm." Try again.
"Sam?"
"Yeah Dean?" Sam didn't stop.
"You'll be ok." And the world slid away one last time.
Xxx
Sam twisted himself round to look at his brother's face. He was ghostly pale apart from the dark circles under his sunken eyes and the flecks of blood that he'd coughed up.
"Dean? Oh God, Dean! Don't be dead. Please don't be dead."
He eased his brother onto the ground and pressed his fingers to his pulse. He couldn't feel anything. Of course, he hadn't been able to feel anything in his hands for a long time, his fingers were wrinkled and pruney and a sickening colour that promised frostbite might be paying him a visit very soon. He laid his ear to Dean's mouth and listened, not daring to move.
It was faint, but it was there, soft cold breaths on his cheek, accompanied by a painful wheezing sound. That was good enough for him. He couldn't afford to stop.
The snow was coming down hard again, it was a hell of a snowstorm they'd stumbled into. He wasn't sure how long he could hold on for. Every step was painful and the added burden of his deadweight brother wasn't helping. More than once he stumbled and struggled to get up again.
He groaned as he realised that he couldn't see anything, the snow was too thick, he had no idea where he was going or even if he was going in circles.
And then, mercifully, he found himself in a clearing. A big white field of clearing, and they'd been here before. The church! They found the church again. Maybe there was someone inside who could help, or maybe he could leave Dean there in the warm and go and get help. He'd have to go on foot, he had no idea what had happened to his cell phone, not that there'd been any signal anyway.
He hauled his precious cargo towards the building that loomed out of the snow. As he got closer he could see the carnage that had ripped through the churchyard all those hours ago. The headstones that had been torn away lay strewn on the ground, and the stone angels now faced off towards the trees, no longer able to stand vigil over the dead. If possible it looked even more deserted than it had last night, but softly, barely audible above the heavy silence that the snow brought with it and his own laboured breathing, he heard something.
At least he thought he did. Voices. Soft muffling that came from inside the old building. People. People with clothing and cell phones and directions and help.
He laid Dean flat on the snow, suddenly finding the weight just too heavy.
"I'll be right back Dean, I'm going to get help." All he had to do was drag himself across the clearing, through the destruction in the churchyard, open the heavy doors and scream at whoever was there to help him, then he could be back with Dean in a matter of seconds.
But it was so hard, walking shouldn't be this hard, but every time his feet sank down into the snow it felt like quicksand when he pulled it back out. But eventually he made it; he staggered through the gate that hung forlornly off its hinges and past the stone angels with their backs to him. He was certain he could hear voices now, they would help him.
He stumbled on his uncooperative feet and fell bodily against the church door, letting out an oof of pain. Then, drawing on every ounce of energy he had left, he forced himself upright, gripped the metal doorknob and swung open the heavy door, his mouth already open to shout out to anyone and everyone inside.
"Sammy?"
His cry died on his lips.
"Sammy where are you?"
Dean was awake, Dean needed him. He stepped back and clicked the groaning door back into place. He started back towards his brother, he was lighter on his feet now, because Dean was awake and freaked and alone. He was actually moving pretty quickly, he could see the blur that was his brother up ahead, wriggling as he tried to move his broken body, he was searching for him.
"Dean, it's ok, I'm here." He slid to his knees in the snow, Dean's eyes were bright and feverish.
"Sammy? Thank God. Where were you?"
"Sorry, I went to the church to try and get help."
"Anyone there?" And help him there was just so much fear on his brother's face.
"No one. It was empty."
Dean an almost imperceptible nod, he looked so defeated, he couldn't even walk to save himself.
It was up to Sam, it was all up to Sam. Both their lives were flickering in his frozen hands.
Once more he fisted his hands in Dean's jacket. Dean was protesting, swatting clumsily at him, but he couldn't let go while he had any strength (or fingers) left.
He only registered bits of what Dean said, he just didn't have the energy for multitasking right now, and he just caught snippets of,
"Sam please-can bring back help-lost-Sam, you're bleeding." Huh, that one seemed to register, probably because a distant part of his brain had been nagging him about the fact that something wet was dripping into one eye. He released Dean and let him slump against his legs as he raised one hand to his temple. It came away red. Oh. Right. He'd hit his head earlier, bashed it pretty hard actually, it hadn't bled too much at the time, it had mainly looked red and angry. Now it seemed like every blood cell in his body had found its way to the exit.
Come to think of it, he was kind of dizzy too and he felt...
Without much warning he crashed to all fours and threw up. Bile spilled out onto the snow, he hadn't much left in his stomach after his little choking escapade earlier.
He closed his eyes and willed everything to just slow down, but the world spun behind his closed eyelids and threatened to spill him over into unconsciousness. He couldn't do that. Later, but not now, not when one life so desperately depended on him.
He could hear Dean's weak voice calling his name and he wanted to respond but he was afraid that if he made any movement he would teeter over the precipice and pass out. So he just concentrated on breathing, deep, nauseating breaths in and out until he dared to open his eyes.
The world was still at a wonky angle but it was staying still enough, so he got to his feet and grabbed hold of his brother, unable to answer any of the questions Dean was firing at him. Dean, who wasn't even holding onto his stomach anymore, whose skin was the same ghastly shade of pale as many corpses that Sam had seen in his time. Dean, who even now was just concerned about little Sammy.
He fell. He took one step back and his body refused to do any more. His head was throbbing and all he wanted to do was sleep it off, but sleeping it off in this weather would mean both of their deaths. He propped himself up on shaking arms, he tried to get his legs under him but they gave out and he careened forwards once more. He waited for the ground to rush up and meet him, but instead a pair of strong hands caught him before he hit.
Oh God, the monster. It had found them, it had let them think they'd escaped, that they had a chance, but all it had done was wait and now it would take what it wanted with ease.
But he wasn't being eaten and the hands were surprisingly gentle, and he was pretty sure the monster wouldn't be calling him son.
The scent of whiskey and motor oil stirred something in him and he cracked open his bleary eyes. He struggled to focus on the face in front of him, but it was familiar, he knew it, just like he knew that in normal circumstances, he'd be laughing at the sight of the bulky puffer jacket the wearer was bundled into.
Then, as his vision cleared it all came rushing back to him.
Bobby.
He was right there, solid and real, like a hairy angel sent to save them. Frantic concern was etched onto his features, Sam could see his lips moving but he couldn't hear anything over the repeated chorus of Hallelujah that was going round and round in his head.
His hand reached out of its own accord then, he watched as it softly poked at the older man's face, his numb fingers picked up the prickle of whiskers and then poked a bit more, just to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating.
"Are you real?"
"...the hell have you two gotten yourselves into this time?" Ooh, sound was returning, that was good; the world seemed to have straightened itself out a bit too.
"Dammit Sam, what happened here?"
Sam just gaped, open mouthed and confused. "You're not going to kill yourself and then vanish are you?"
If it was possible, Bobby looked even more stricken.
"Pull yourself together boy!" Bobby sounded angry now, or maybe he was just scared, "What happened to your brother?"
Dean! Crap, Dean was still bleeding out all over the snow, he had to focus for just a little while longer. It took considerable effort, but he forced his mind back to full awareness.
"Bobby."
"That's right Sam, now if I let you go you won't fall will you?"
Sam shook his head and Bobby tentatively released his firm grip. He inspected Sam's face for signs that he was about to keel over before scurrying behind him to his brother.
For a minute Sam just knelt there in the snow, letting Bobby take charge while the world realigned itself. He could hear Bobby swearing and trying to rouse Dean, who in turn responded with a series of groans and rattling breaths.
When he finally felt like he could be of some use again, he turned around. Bobby was wriggling out of the enormous puffer jacket he was wearing and then tugging off Dean's own soaking layers before bundling the semi-conscious man into the coat.
"Sam, what happened?"
"Yeti...and he fell."
"Damn it! Dean, can you hear me son?"
"What are you doing here Bobby?"
"You sound like you're not pleased to see me."
"I am, it's just...how are you here?"
"You were supposed to check in three days ago kid. I've been looking for you."
"Three days? What are you talking about? We're supposed to check in with you this afternoon."
"Sam, you've been missing for days."
That made no sense, his watch told him that only hours had passed, and it was right, the sun had gone down last night, and it was only when it came back up that they escaped.
He came back to the present when Bobby gave a hiss at the sight of the Yeti wound.
"We need to get your brother to a hospital now. He's hurt bad Sam."
The tone in Bobby's voice wasn't comforting, it was scary. It didn't say that Dean would be alright when they got him to hospital, it said that Dean probably wouldn't make it to hospital. Sam watched dumbfounded as Bobby lifted Dean as best he could.
"Sam, I can carry him. Can you walk? Sam! Can you walk?"
Sam only nodded; words had escaped him again, because his brother was going to die.
Bobby paused when he reached the tree line and looked back to make sure Sam was following.
"Wait, did you check the church? We could use all the help we can get right now Sam."
"No. There was no one there to help us."
Bobby grunted and hefted Dean higher and set off again.
Sam glanced back at the grey church that loomed out of the snow. It was true, there was no one there that could help them. But it wasn't empty.
He'd swung open the door to reveal a silent building that was full of people. They sat in the pews with their heads bowed as if in prayer. Sam had watched as their heads lifted in unison and they turned towards him. Dozens of silent faces turned to him and Sam hadn't been able to speak as he'd seen their faces, each one was twisted in a voiceless scream. Apart from one man standing at the front of the church, his features were in shadow, but he raised a finger to his lips and their heads dropped slowly down again. And Sam had been able to see right through each one of them.
He'd closed the door and left them there, that place wasn't meant for him and they'd given them all the help they could.
Xxx
Sam decided that Dean looked kind of stupid in a puffer jacket. But he suspected that might be partly out of jealousy that Dean was wearing something warm and dry and didn't have to exert any energy at all, not like him and poor Bobby who was panting like a smoker.
Sam didn't know how long they'd been walking; apparently he couldn't trust his watch anymore.
But Dean's breathing was growing increasingly shallow and he hadn't made any indication that he was at all alert in a good long while.
Sam and Bobby had resorted to carrying him together, Sam had the legs and Bobby the arms, with the rest of Dean bouncing along between them and no doubt making all his injuries ten times worse.
Sam was positive that his brother was going to die, those shallow breaths had a rattle to them and all Sam could think was deathrattledeathrattledeathr attle.
And then suddenly, there it was. A new, foreign sound in this world. It was without a doubt the most beautiful sound that Sam had ever heard. Traffic.
Slow, snow cautious traffic, but it was there, civilisation. And even more beautiful was the Impala. Looking cold and abandoned under a thick layer of snow, but there all the same.
Bobby headed for another beat up car though, one that wasn't quite so buried under mounds of snow. It didn't matter though; the Impala would wait there patiently for her owner to return.
Sam once again found himself holding the dead weight of his brother not dead not dead not dead. While Bobby dug around in his pocket for the keys. The next thing he knew he was in the back seat, the worn upholstery felt like heaven against his weary limbs. And Dean was leaning against him, the only signs of life that rattling breathing. Then Bobby was diving comically into the front seat and gunning the engine, blasting the heater prematurely and kicking up snow as he sped dangerously down the road. They fishtailed a few times on ice and skidded past honking cars on their way, but Bobby would take care of them now.
Sam finally let go.
Xxx
It was warm. At least he thought it was. He couldn't quite remember what warm felt like.
Everything felt so heavy. After a small struggle he managed to peep open his eyes, he was rewarded with a haze of white. Great. More snow. But it was too much effort to keep his eyes open so he let them fall closed again.
The next time he opened his eyes it was dark. But he was still warm and there was a monotonous beeping coming from somewhere, so he figured he could just stay away for a little bit longer. As long as the beeping wasn't a bomb and he was supposed to stop it, he really didn't think he was up to it right now. He drifted off again thinking about which wire he should cut.
When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't alone. To be fair, he might have had company this whole time, but he just hadn't been awake enough to notice. He tried to manoeuvre his stiff body, but let out a hiss as pain rushed through him. Then a face appeared in front of him, talking excitedly and pushing a button frantically. He tried to say something, but someone had stuffed his mouth full of cotton and sleep was inviting him to stay just a bit longer.
There was a voice that was droning on, muttering words that he couldn't make sense of. Nobody seemed to be answering, so he opened his mouth to tell it to shut up, couldn't they tell he was trying to sleep here. But then he decided that maybe he'd had enough of sleeping for now.
He opened his eyes. The droning was coming from a man in front of a field of sheep on the TV that was hung on brackets on the wall. He let his eyes slide down his body, everything seemed to be present and correct, apart from he had apparently grown an extra foot, because there were three feet resting on the bed instead of two. No wait. Four feet. Because one of his legs was suspended in the air, encased in one hell of a cast. He followed the other two feet to the owner.
Sam was slouched in a chair with his feet propped up on the bed, his nose stuck in a magazine. He had dark circles under his eyes and a series of stitches held closed the wound on his head. But he was still Sam.
"Hey." Ouch, that came out croakier than he'd expected.
The magazine dropped to the floor and Sam was in his face again.
"Dean." Sam was positively beaming. "It's good to see you man."
"You too. You look like crap by the way."
Sam's laugh was ever so slightly bordering on hysteria.
Dean had to swallow a couple of times to make his dry throat work, "You ok? You look like you should be in this bed instead of me."
"Checked myself out. Wanted to be here when you woke up."
"You're ok though?"
"I'm fine, they thawed me out and stitched me back together. Mild concussion, hypothermia. I did hang around until they'd fixed the frostbite. I didn't really feel like losing any toes."
Dean snorted a laugh at that and instantly regretted it when his ribs let out a squeal of protest, he snaked a hand across his midsection, unwilling to pull down the blankets.
"Come on then Sam, what's the verdict."
"You nearly died. I mean, really nearly died. The amount of blood they had to give you. Antibiotics, surgery, internal injuries, broken ribs, shattered leg. You name it, you got it. By the way, you're going to set off metal detectors for the rest of your life. You've got so many pins in your leg, I'm surprised you're not rattling."
"Just another day at the office then?"
"I've never seen anything like that Dean. I still...Bobby's trying to figure out what it was."
"Bobby...Bobby was there."
"Yeah, he was looking for us. We were gone for three days."
"What?"
"Don't ask me, that was the weirdest night of my life."
Dean felt his eyes drifting shut again.
"Get some rest Dean. We'll talk later."
Dean slept.
Xxx
"Don't be stupid Dean, you've just had major surgery."
"Please. I'm fine. I'm ready."
"Oh really? If something wants you dead, all it has to do is steal your crutches and you'll be rolling on the floor like a helpless kitten."
"Hey! I'm more like a Tiger!"
"Boys! Knock it off; you're giving me a headache."
Dean sank back against the pillows; he was still so pale that he nearly disappeared against the white bedding.
Sam huffed out a sigh and looked at his brother, who just yesterday had been administered another hefty dose of antibiotics to combat an infection. No doubt the result of exposing an open wound to all manner of dirt and grime.
His brother still looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes stood out in stark contrast on his colourless face. He slept for most of the day, waking up at intervals and pretending that he felt fine, he'd be ok once he got out of hospital. But the Doctors insisted he wasn't ready and Sam for once, refused point blank to let his brother discharge himself. After what had happened, he wasn't taking any chances.
Bobby was scowling at them, no doubt wishing that they were having this conversation in his house where Whiskey wasn't quite so frowned upon.
"Dean, stop being an idiot. You're not ready to hunt this...thing! And my back can't cope with dragging your stubborn ass out of the middle of nowhere again. And Sam, be nice to your brother, he's not well."
Dean smirked and Sam pouted.
"Now, let's try again. What did it look like?"
"It was big!"
"And...dark." Sam helpfully interjected.
"Big and dark?" Bobby muttered an expletive under his breath.
"Well it was...erm..." Sam shot a look at his brother who was looking slightly perplexed as well.
"...It was hard to see. We never saw it properly."
"It had scary eyes." Dean piped in.
"Yeah! Its eyes were scary and if you looked at them, it kind of hypnotised you. And then it stole our bodies and made us appear and kill ourselves and it poured this weird stuff down our throats."
Bobby just blinked.
"Now that I said it out loud it sounds a bit farfetched." Sam sank back down into his chair by the side of Dean's bed, letting Dean take the floor.
"It was weird Bobby. I mean, weird even for us. I never got a good look at it; it was always in the shadows or in Sam or those bodies. We were...somewhere else."
"But it vanished when the sun came up? Which in reality was actually three days later?" Bobby scratched at his beard absentmindedly. "Once you boys were stable, I took a hunter friend with me back out to the woods."
Dean shot up in a panic, "Bobby, are you crazy? You..."
"Relax, it was daylight, and I took precautions. Anyway, going on what Sam said, I retraced your steps as best I could. It had stopped snowing as well so it wasn't hard to follow your tracks. But there was nothing there. No bodies, no fallen trees, no blood." He paused, studying their faces, "Even your footprints just...appeared."
"Appeared?"
"I don't know what to tell you Dean, you're tracks just started in the middle of the snow. There was nothing around, just trees. Not only that, there was no EMF, no nothing. The only sign that anything supernatural had happened was that church. I spoke to the Parish Vicar, they hardly use that building anymore, just for special occasions, but he said that nothing like that has ever happened before. He said it was like a whirlwind just came through and destroyed only the headstones. That and the bloody mess that was left inside." He looked pointedly at Dean.
"What? That wasn't my fault; I was being dragged through the freaking woods when cleanup time was going on."
"The point is there's nothing there."
"It was real Bobby."
"I'm not saying it wasn't Sam. I'm saying that there's nothing there now. There probably won't be anything there ever again. Apart from those Yeti attacks and the destruction of the church, there hasn't been anything suspicious happening there. Especially not a butt load of missing people."
Sam couldn't believe it, "But some of those bodies had been there for years, couldn't it be that it happened so rarely that it didn't look like a pattern?"
"Sam, I'm telling you there's nothing. Whatever you boys found, it's gone now. The only thing I have, and it might not be anything, is reports, sometimes worldwide, of vandalised churchyards. Usually fairy remote, fine one night and the next they look like someone's taken a sledgehammer to them, and any statues with eyes...they're facing away, not destroyed, just moved." He tried to read the expression on their faces before quickly adding, "But that could be anything, bored teenagers, a prank, anything. The cases are too widely spread, too far apart to be a pattern."
"How do we find it then, how do we stop it." Sam was getting frustrated waiting for answers.
Bobby and Dean looked at each other before Dean muttered,
"We don't."
"What? Dean, you saw what it was like, we can't just let it keep going."
"That's exactly what we're going to do Sam."
"But those people, it'll just keep on killing. Not killing though! Taking them! Keeping them! It's our job Dean."
"We barely made it out Sam," Dean's voice was calm, controlled, "It was too close this time. And we don't know what it is, how to find it, how to kill it. This one's done."
"We'll keep looking, we'll find a pattern, we'll take care of it."
"We're not going back there Sam. We won't make it out this time."
"It's just another Demon Dean."
"It's not a Demon."
Sam was taken aback, "What is it then."
Dean glanced from Sam to Bobby and back to Sam, "Something else."
Xxx
"Sammy, will you get off me, I can walk."
Dean had finally been allowed out of hospital under strict instructions to take it easy, Sam was actually glad that his brother had broken his leg; it meant that he had very little choice but to follow the Doctors orders.
Sam had pulled the car as close to Bobby's front door as possible, the driveway was icy and covered in a fresh blanketing of snow. Dean was attempting to pick his way to the house on his crutches, and Sam winced when he hit a frozen puddle and landed on his back with a thud.
"You ok?"
"Fine. Almost forgot what the feeling of snow on my back was like. Help me up."
Sam hauled his brother to his feet and got him leaning against the car before stooping to pick up his fallen crutches. He twirled one absentmindedly in his hand before speaking.
"Dean, are we really not going to hunt this thing down?"
Dean sighed "We've been over this; we don't even know what it is."
"But we could find out, it could attack more people."
"It probably will."
"Dean..."
"Sam, I can't go back there. Literally, thank God. But even if we could, I don't think it's something we can fight. It's another world Sam, and I know it's selfish, but I don't want you or me or Bobby to end up there. There was something about this one that...I don't know, scared me I guess."
"Not surprised, you nearly died. Several times!"
"It's not just that, it's hard to explain, but I can't...I won't go back there, and I won't let you try to either."
"What about those people?"
"There's nothing we can do for them?"
Sam studied his brother, propped up against the car, holding himself stiffly, the journey to Bobby's had been the longest he'd been out of bed since it had happened. He looked beat to hell and if Sam was honest with himself, he really didn't want to go back to that place either. But he just couldn't let it go.
"Someone saved us you know."
"What?"
"I saw someone, just a shadow, before the sun came up, that's how I knew what to do."
"I didn't see anyone."
"Yes you did, in the church, before it took you."
"Sam I was in shock, I was delirious, there was no one there."
"But there was, I went back to look for help and they were there, all of them. Someone saved us Dean."
Dean was quiet for a long time; Sam was starting to wonder if he'd dropped off sitting up when he spoke,
"I know."
"What? Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I knew that you'd get a stick up your ass about it. I didn't see anyone out there anyway, I just...knew stuff."
"The sun?"
"I guess."
"They're trapped there Dean, they...he...whoever saved us, and we're just going to leave them there because we're too scared to go back?"
"It's not just that Sam. I don't think...I know that we can't find it again, it's gone for us."
"How do you know?"
Dean pulled his mouth into a smile that reminded Sam too much of when they were in the woods,
"I just know."
Sam looked down at the crutch he was still fiddling with, his brother was right, of course he was, he'd known himself all this time hadn't he, but that didn't stop him from feeling any less guilty. He handed Dean his crutch back and leaned on the car next to him. Dean had been through more than him, it was written across his stomach, in his leg, the stitched up head wound. Dean had leapt off a cliff to save his brother and Sam wanted to drag him back there. He remembered the images of Dean that appeared before him, killing themselves in different ways, how he felt seeing his brother's blood spurt out all over the clean white snow. How helpless he felt staring down at Dean's broken body, the spaces saved for them among the dead. No, he couldn't make Dean look for that place again even if it was possible.
"Ok. I know, you're right. But it'll go after people again."
"Then we just have to hope that whatever saved us, saves them too."
"Why did you jump? You knew what was waiting."
"It's my job Sammy, you know that."
Of course, but it was Sam's job to keep Dean safe too. He fixed his gaze on his toes while he thought about just how lucky they'd been. He felt the reassuring pat of Dean's hand on his back and then let out a far too girlish squeal as his brother shoved a handful of snow down the back of his neck.
"Damn it Dean!"
Dean was laughing in that infuriating childish way that Sam didn't realise he'd missed and despite himself, Sam found that he was laughing as well, especially when he nailed Dean in the head with a snowball. After a few more missiles were fired in either direction, Dean called truce and they shuffled into the house together, Dean letting Sam help him up the slippery steps. Dean hopped over the threshold and turned to his brother.
"I tell you what Sammy, I still like the snow."
Sam let out a muffled curse as Dean shoved a snowball into his face.