Summary. . . . . . . "I'm fine Dean!" It was their motto after all, hide the hurts, suck up the pains, tell a few white lies; but this time will those white lies come back to haunt them. As they take on a hunt, with multiple spirits, will Sam's failing health become an issue, as he hides the truth from his brother?

Disclaimer. . . . . . . Still not mine, but I have my fingers and toes crossed. Until then I'll just continue to play with Kripkies toys.

A.N. . . . . . . This is my birthday gift to Darksupernatural, I'm sorry that this has taken so long to get this out to you. I can only hope that you think the wait has given me the time to do justice to your awesome plot bunny. Happy Birthday girl, and I'll see you in a month and a bit!

"Sammy!" Dean's voice shouted out harshly, fighting to be heard amidst the keening and groaning of the trees bending in the fierce winds that had sprung up. He fought against the powerful force, using limbs as purchase in an effort to get to where Sam was battling. As he finally broke through the foliage that tore and whipped at his face, his eyes caught sight of his brother, the breath he had been taking in sticking in his throat at the spectacle his vision caught. Forcing down the blockage he tried to compel his body to move as Sam continued to do battle, his legs taking a few precious steps before faltering at the sight of Sam falling, his hands clutching his head, his face scrunched up in agony, and the spirits rusted aged bowie knife angling for the killer blow.


Two weeks previously. . . . .

Brief seconds of weightlessness, that's what Sam felt before gravity took back control and his flight, through the bitingly cold night air, above the frost covered gravestones ended, his head bouncing harshly off marble, and his back crashing into an unmovable pillar that represented someone's final resting place. As he slid boneless to it's base, he briefly heard his name shouted, his mouth opening to reply to the unasked question, the words catching, coming out as mere muffles and sputters as he felt frigid hands grip tightly around his throat, once calloused fingers gradually clamping harder and harder. He brought up weakened limbs to bat away at the obstruction to his airway, but lack of oxygen and his own jumbled thoughts from the blow to his head, made his efforts at best minimal. He gulped in huge mouthfuls of much needed air pushing it down through his restricted airway as the hands were gone as suddenly as they had arrived, his muddled mind not registering the reason why at first, until the smell of gasoline, and burnt rags and bones permeated through the air, over riding the cloying smell of pine that had previously been there.

When the world around him stopped rotating, and the black spots finally ebbed and died away, he tried to move from his landing place, crashing back down to the rigid earth as his back protested, a stabbing pain stealing the breath he had fought so hard to regain away once more, as a fierce throbbing reverberated throughout his head causing his stomach to protest, his lunch undulating and threatening to reappear. Sitting where he had landed, the chill and dampness of the frost seeping through his clothes and skin intensifying the shivers that had started as soon as he had stepped from the warmth of the Impala's interior, he waited his mind already acknowledging the fact that he needed some help. As the minutes drifted past though, and Dean's concerned and anxious face failed to appear, Sam's worries and concerns turned away from his own ails and began to focus on his brother. Where was he? Why wasn't he here? Was he okay? Was he hurt? Finding strength from somewhere deep within, he began to push his aching body up using the monolith for purchase.

He stopped for a few seconds as his battered skull disapproved the change in altitude, breathing steadily to calm his once again rolling stomach, moving with lurching staggering steps once he felt able to towards the reopened grave where he had last seen Dean standing; the reopened grave that now stood burning brightly in the otherwise black night; the reopened grave who's light enabled Sam to see the fallen stricken body of his brother resting on his side, his back inches from the flames, unmoving and still like the marble stones that surrounded him. All else around him seemed to stand still and silent as his focus centered solely on his sibling, his back throbbed as he raced the final few meters, but he felt nothing, his head resented the bobbing motion of his movements, but it pained him nowhere near as severely as the thought that his brother could be worse off, possibly even. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .No, he refused to believe that, Dean would be fine, he had to be. Sliding the last feet on his knees, ignoring the sharp spikes of ice that pierced his clothing and dug deep into his knees, he came to a faltering halt against his siblings side, checking over him quickly before pulling him away from the flames, turning him to his back once he had done so.

Trembling digits rose to Dean's neck, hesitating mere centimeters away from the stubbled skin, as that fear arose within Sam again, but he forced it back down and moved his fingers the rest of the way, unsure he wanted to know the answer, yet knowing he needed to find it. Relief gushed about his body as his digits found the soft thrumming beneath the skin. Moving his hand further up Dean's face, Sam gently patted his brother's cheek, calling his name as he did so, hoping to elicit some kind of response. The response he received though was not what he had envisioned, as Dean's arm swung up catching Sam's jaw and sending the startled younger brother crashing to the icy floor, his jeans instantly soaking up the frosty dew and intensifying the chill he already felt. He sat unable to move for a few seconds as his head pounded and dizzy waves washed over him, only moving as Dean's voice finally rang out.

"Sammy? Was that you?" He asked confused.

"Yeah! Why the hell did you hit me?" Sam replied, his hand rising to rub gingerly at his already bruising jaw.

"You surprised me. I didn't know it was you. I just saw someone looming. Sorry."

"It's okay, you good?" Sam asked, slowly making his way over.

"Peachy!" Dean replied, feeling anything but.

"Liar!" Sam picked up the underlying hints of pain in Dean's response. Reaching his brother's side he used his small flashlight to ghost over Dean's body, his worried eyes trying to assess just where his brother had been hurt, finding what he was looking for as the beam shone on the gash that was bleeding profusely from a cut just above his temple, and on Dean's oddly situated shoulder. "You pop it again?" He asked, ignoring the cut for now, knowing that head wounds bled a lot, gaining a nod in response. Reaching down he helped Dean into a sitting position before adding. "You ready?"

"No!" Dean replied at the same time as Sam pulled on his damaged limb, the popping sound loud in the quiet of the night. Dean grunted in agony, his lips firmly clasped shut against the scream that wanted to escape. He swayed from the pain, unconsciousness begging to take hold, yet he fought against it long enough to ask through gritted teeth. "You okay?"

Sam was glad that Dean was barely coherent as he replied with a lie. "I'm fine." He rested Dean against the marble of a headstone as he made his way over to where they had dropped the shovels, his brother giving in to the darkness the minute his head touched the rough, harsh stone. Bending down Sam wavered slightly as another bout of dizziness assaulted him, and his bruised and battered back protested. He breathed deeply through the nausea that threatened to expel his meager dinner, stilling all other movement until he finally regained control and the vertigo abated. Pushing his weary body on, he started the long and tedious task of restoring the grave back to it's former condition.

By the time Sam had finished, dawn was peeping red upon the horizon, and his body was sweat soaked and trembling from a combination of cold, pain and exhaustion, he sluggishly packed away all the gear, lugging the heavy bags back to the Impala before returning for a still out cold Dean, pushing his body on even though he desperately just wanted to drop and sleep for a week. Pulling up his brother, he winced against the strain his heavy weight placed upon his aggravated back, fighting the nausea once again before slowly setting back off towards the car. He settled Dean into the passenger seat before ambling round to the drivers side, a sigh of relief slipping from his lips as he settled into the comfort of the worn seat, sleep begging to take hold of him, yet he fought it back, instead turning the key in the ignition. As he moved to place the car in drive, he gasped suddenly in agony as pain erupted throughout his head, his hands instinctively reaching up, as though to keep his head from splitting in two. As quickly as it had started though the pain disappeared, Sam pushing it to the back of his mind as he looked over at Dean who was moaning in pain, and his brotherly instincts kicked in, putting his foot to the gas he set off for their latest home.

To Be Continued. . . . . . Well Kris, was this okay for starters? Thank you for being the best friend a girl could ask for, a shoulder when needed, a great mind to bounce ideas off, just an all round awesome person. I can't wait to take a ride in the Impala with you in May!

To everyone else, thank you so much for reading, chapter 2 coming up soon, catch you later, Peanut x