A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing.

Screaming for Vengeance

Chapter Fourteen

Sam stood before the opening in the earth that had swallowed his brother, pulling Dean away, out of the light. He paused there, listening. He could hear the soft sighing purr as it moved deeper into the black void. He thought it had stopped, the sound wasn't moving away from him any longer.

Then its song began. It poured out of the dark wound in the earth like blood from a great gash. It filled the empty landscape around him, the rocks humming in sympathy with the sound. It was singing to Dean, singing the chant, death held forever on a single note.

Sam looked around him, dawn was beginning to creep across the sky. Bright bands of flame running across the sky, bathing the forest in the colors of autumn leaves. Far off in the forest he heard a plaintive song, some denizen of the woods braving the silence to welcome the sun. He could hear the chatter of a squirrel, calling out over the forest, its voice defiant. The ground around him was littered with black stones, sharp jagged knives filling the garden before the void, the rocks like flowers of frozen death warning all away.

There was a fallen tree outside the ring of black rocks. Ancient, bleached gray by the years it had lain there. Sam walked over to it. Underneath the tree the wood was dry and powdery. Dean said fire is the only thing he thinks will stop it. I hope he's right. God, I hope he's alive. Dean hang on, just hang on. He gathered up as much as he could hold in his arms. Faster, I need to go faster. I hope this works, I hope Dean was right. I hope he's still alive. God, I hope that's the right hope to have. No, of course it is. He'll be ok. He has to be. He made a small pile out side the mouth of the cave and thrust his torch into it. It caught quickly, as fast as if he had put some kind of starter on it. The flames warm in the cold sunrise.

He went back for another load and another. The song was still flowing out of the void, out into the slowly brightening day, out to the rocks still shadow shapes themselves. Three trips and he had a large pile outside the cave entrance. And he heard nothing, the song was gone, the soft sigh filtering through the dark had diminished to nothing.

Oh, my god, it stopped, it stopped! DEAN! I have to stop it, I have to get to Dean before its finished. I have to. What I saw, what it plans for Dean, what it plans for the world. No. I have to stop it, I can't let that happen, can't let that terror lose on the world. I have to get to Dean.

It was his moment.

He grabbed a branch and shoved it in the fire he had set outside the entrance then, picking up an armful of wood, he walked slowly into the dark void. The tunnel twisted and turned, winding through the mountain, down into the unwalked bowels of the earth. It finally opened up into a large cavern. He dropped the load of wood and ran back to the entrance and grabbed another. He retuned the cavern. There was another opening across the large room, a black gash in the wall. The soft humming song of it was flowing out of that dark mouth in the earth, much lower now, a keening sound of pleasure, of satisfaction, of anticipation. That must be where it took Dean, I have to get him out of there before I start this fire.

He turned to get one more load of wood and he stopped. Something was there. He shone the torch around the room, in the middle, still, unmoving, was his brother. "Dean!" He ran to him, and dropped down on his knees beside him. He put a shaking hand against Dean's neck. Nothing, his brother was cold, the black tendrils running up his neck and across his face. No, not now, please Dean, not yet. "No, Dean, no," he said. The tears started, he was weeping, the sobs ripping out of him in violent gasps.

"NO!" The rage that had been building, the violent emotion that had driven the venom down, now exploded out of him in a wave of white hot fury. Before he even knew what had happened, before he could stop himself, he screamed into the night, "YOU WILL DIE FOR THIS! YOU KILLED MY BROTHER, YOU DIE FOR THIS."

He ran to the entrance of the great cavern and grabbed the wood, carrying it across to where Dean lay, to where the other void led down into the dark night. He piled the wood there, blocking the passage back into the world. He shoved the burning branch into it and the ancient wood exploded into flames that shot out, across his brother, lighting Dean's pant leg on fire. Sam saw his brother's leg react to the heat. He jumped back and slapped the fire out.

"Dean?" Dean? You're alive? Come on Dean, I know you're in there. Give me a sign, come on! He put a hand down on Dean's chest. Nothing. He was about to pull his hand away when he felt a single beat, eighteen long counts later another beat. His brother's chest rose under his hand. "Oh, god, Dean, you're alive, you're alive." He carefully picked his brother up, shielding him from the flames, turning his back on its dark kingdom where the fire now flickered and raged. He carried Dean out where the sun was beginning to warm the broken landscape.

Sam could hear it screaming, caught in the fire he had set. It was a scream of rage, it was a scream that had haunted a thousand nights, and had echoed over battlefields wet with blood, places of the feast. It shouted its rage out to Sam. And suddenly, like the coming of the silence in the forest it touched him, that velvet touch sliding into him. Sam saw his brother's death there before him. It intended to pull Dean away with it into the dark. No, you don't get Dean, no. Not now, no.

Suddenly Dean flinched, his body reacting to an invisible invasion, his muscles tensing, obviously in agony. Sam held Dean tight against him. "Dean!" He said trying to pull his brother away from it, trying to keep him there, in the light. "DEAN!" His brother's body was writhing in pain, twisting in his arms. Sam held on, trying to comfort Dean, wanting to stop what was taking his brother away.

Sam was desperate, Dean was dying in his arms, killed by something he could do nothing to stop. He looked down at his brother's burned pant leg, where the heat had raised blisters on his skin. Oh god, Dean, I'm sorry for that. I'm so…What's that? Where the fire had burned the leg the black tendrils had faded. "Dean! Your leg, oh my god, your leg!" I wonder if that will stop it? Hang on Dean. "I have an idea." He carefully set his brother down and ran to the fire. He pulled a branch from the flames and knelt down beside his brother. Hang on Dean. "This might hurt." Yeah, Dean and I just lied to you, this will hurt and hurt a lot. Just hang on, please. Let this work. Oh, god can I do this?

Taking a deep breath he laid the branch against his brother's leg. The skin sizzled where it touched and white streaks coursed up the black vines, forcing them up and out. Dean moaned and then cried out in agony. Sam looked away from the anguish on his brother's face. Finally he saw the white light race up Dean's neck and through the black web on his face. Sam pulled the branch away and let it drop. He pulled Dean up against him again, wrapping his arms around his brother. Dean relaxed, as if he were gently letting go his hold on something, slowly dropping down against his brother. Dean? Did it leave? Is it dead? Are you ok? Are you…did you…no Dean…

"It's ended. Thank you, Sam," a tiny wisp of sound reached out to Sam.

"Dean? It's ended? It's over? Thank god." Sam had his hand on Dean's chest, he could feel a faint heartbeat. You're alive, Dean. Oh my god, you're a mess, Dean don't die now, please, not now. I have to get you help, I have to, fast. How can I get you out of here? He looked around, they were high above the tree line, nearly at the top of a small mountain, towering over the nearby hills. I wonder? He gently laid Dean down and pulled the emergency blanket out of their pack. He wrapped it around his brother and then made a small fire to keep him warm.

It looked like a long way, but there was a plateau above him. I bet the phone will work up there if there is a tower anywhere around. He slowly dragged himself up the hill to the plateau. He pulled out his phone and turned it on, waiting as it booted up. No bars, one bar, two, three. That should be enough, 911 please work out here.

He dialed, a calm voice answered, reassured him help would be on its way, and asked him to stay on the line, leave the cell phone on so they could find him. He started to walk back down and stumbled on the steep trail. He couldn't find the strength to get on his feet again so he crawled back to Dean and pulled his brother against him, resting his cheek on the top of Dean's head.

"They're coming Dean, we're getting out of here, rescue is on the way." He shifted so Dean was a clasped against him a little tighter. He waited, his body slowly failing, until he heard the sound of the helicopter in the distance. Hold on, Dean, they're here. He closed his eyes and finally gave in to the darkness of oblivion.

XXX

It was there, holding him, its claw poised above his eyes, the needle sharp point pressing slowly into him. Black tendrils moving across his face, icy lines of death, pulling him away into the night. The black web covered him, reaching into the ground and binding him there in the darkness, holding him as it played in his mind, sharing the horror, making him beg for death. He saw Sam laying beside him, covered in the black vines, his lifeless eyes staring up into the empty sky.

"SAM!" He screamed, grief and rage forcing sound out of him. It laughed at his pain, gently pressing that claw ever deeper into him. He fought the touch of it, trying to get to his brother. "Sam!" The cold was pulling him away, its song filling him, making lines of pain across his body.

"DEAN!" Sam's hands were warm on his shoulders, driving the cold away. "Dean, it's a dream, you're safe. It's ok."

Sam? Are you ok? I thought I saw…Sam? It reached out to him and showed him his brother, dead, lying in the cold dawn, the black death covering him like it covered Dean. His final agony painted on his face. No, Sam, no. You shouldn't have come. I'm sorry, Sammy.

The soft sighing breath surrounded him, his only reality the purring noise of its snarling voice and the pain, agony, fiery in his body. His ankle was throbbing, hot, pulsing pain, like a heartbeat. It was happy, watching him from the fire his brother has set for it. The black threads began to tie themselves together, wrapping him in a cloak of death. He fought, trying to escape, trying to get to Sam's body, needing to force it from his brother before he could go into the dark.

"Sammy, no. NO!" He struggled against the touch of it, holding him immobile.

"Dean, it's ok, I'm here, it's ok. You're safe."

Sammy? Are you alive? It laughed at him, at his desperate plea to his brother. He could feel rain on his face, the drops running down his cheeks like tears. The forest was nearly silent around him, he thought he could hear a soft chattering from somewhere, far off, away from where it walked. He was cold. He tried to fight the cold, tried to get to his brother, lying under a fallen tree, held there by the dark shadow shape. He tried, he failed, his body struggling to go on, but he couldn't move. "Sam," and he was crying, the tears cold on his cheeks as he looked at his brother's body.

Warm arms were holding him, tight. "Dean, please, it's a dream, it's ok, you're safe. We're safe." Sam? Are you there? "It's ok, Dean." Sammy. And he slipped into a gentle dark, silent except for his brother's voice.

Dean was warm, wrapped in a soft blanket of velvety darkness. There was hardly any pain, he was lying on something soft. The air was warm and dry. He lay there neither awake nor fully asleep listening to the soft sounds around him. There were voices slowly becoming intelligible.

"How is he doing?" That sounded like Sam, his voice quiet, gentle, a little sad. Sam, are you ok? Sammy?

"He is doing much better. He should make a full recovery, now that the infection and fever are under control," a female voice answered. And if she is as hot as that voice, wow.

"Are you sure?" Sam's voice was still full of fear.

"We're pretty sure," she said gently. Dean heard the soft sound of her footsteps leaving the room.

Sam sighed, he must have sat down in a chair. "Dean, man, they keep saying that, but you're still out. Makes me think they are lying to me."

Dean thought he could hear the edges of tears in Sam's voice, he fought his way up through that soft blanket that held him in the dark. "Sammy?" Only it came out as a mumble, barely sound at all. Wow, my throat hurts.

"Dean?" Sam's voice shifted, it sounded like he was leaning over him now. "Dean, did you say something?"

"You ok, Sam?" Well, that sounded almost like what I wanted to say.

"Dean? Are you there?"

"You ok, Sam?" Come on Sam, that sounded like words that time. He started trying to force his eyes opened. They felt like they were glued shut.

"Dean! Hey!"

He managed to get his eyes open, trying to focus on his brother. "You ok?" Would you please just answer the damn question Sam?

"Me? Yeah, I'm ok," Sam was smiling down at him, tears sparkling on his cheeks. His eyes were a little red around the edges.

"You sure?" He was in a hospital room. There was an IV pole beside him and the antiseptic smell must be coming from the oxygen. He looked over at the other bed in the room. The sheets were wrinkled, someone else was staying in the room. "Sam?"

His brother's eyes followed his, "I'm ok, Dean. They were just keeping me for observation for a day or two."

"You lying to me?"

"Not much. I'm going to be fine, don't worry." Sam sat down on the edge of Dean's bed.

"How bad are you, Sam? I need to know."

"I'm going to be fine, Dean, really," he said softly.

Yeah, Sam, you look fine. Compared to a corpse you look just fine. And you're going to keep lying to me, too, aren't you? "Ok, Sam. How am I?" Sleep was starting to reach out for him again, he struggled against it.

Sam swallowed, "They said you should recover from the infection and the wounds." He paused, his eyes searching Dean's face.

"What, Sam?"

"How do you feel?"

"Sleepy," he said, his eyes starting to drift close. "Sorry, Sam, I think I need…Sleepy…" Sam laughed softly, Dean thought he felt his brother's hand on his as he slid into the dark.

A squirrel was chattering at him, complaining of his presence in the woods. It ran down in front of him and stopped. Dean looked down at it. "Sorry, no food. I'm not giving you anything else." The squirrel looked at him and ran off behind the tree. It was back a minute later carrying his gun. What the hell? I must be dreaming. God, I hope this is a dream. He forced himself out of the forest, back to his hospital bed.

"Stupid squirrels," he said as he opened his eyes.

Sam was sitting beside the bed, he looked over at him. "Hey, Dean," he smiled. "What did you just say?"

"Squirrels are out to get me, Sammy."

"I don't think the squirrels are after you," his brother said with a soft laugh.

"Yeah, well you weren't the one it was going to shoot, either."

"Dean?" Sam said grinning at him.

"Yeah, Sammy?" He said smiling back.

"I think you might have lost your mind."

"I told you, squirrels got it," he said with a small laugh. "How are you?"

"I'm ok," he said with a sigh.

"Don't sound ok, Sam."

"No, I'm ok. I was…I've been a little worried about you."

"I'm ok."

"Yeah, Dean, sure."

"Sam? What?"

"You were dreaming it was here, screaming about the night. Begging to die, Dean." He watched as the tears welled up in Sam's eyes and started flowing gently down his face. "You were begging to die, Dean. Screaming at it."

"It's ok, Sam. I'm ok, now." And you're ok too which is more important when all is said and done. "It was trying to pull me back into the dark with it. I didn't want to go."

Sam smiled, "Yeah, you were fighting it. They had you in restraints there for awhile, you know. Until I realized that was making it worse for you."

"Thanks, Sammy."

"Yeah, funny, when you kept screaming about the night, I kept thinking about this poem."

"Poetry, princess?"

"Yeah," Sam closed his eyes like he was trying to call a printed page in front of his eyes. "Do not go gentle into that good night/Rage, rage against the dying of the light." He looked at Dean the tears still on his cheeks and put his hand over his brother's.

"Good poem there, Sam," Dean said clearing his throat, feeling tears in his own eyes.

"Yeah," Sam smiled at him. "You should get a little more sleep. I'll be here to keep the squirrels away."

"Thanks," he smiled at his brother and closed his eyes. He was just drifting off, slipping back into the dark when he heard Sam whisper "because that good night is death, Dean. Rage against it, that dying light." It was said so softly, Dean thought it was part of a dream.

When he opened his eyes again there was a squirrel staring at him from the bedside tray. "What the hell?"

Sam laughed, it was a happy laugh. "He was hunting you, I brought him here."

Dean picked up the plush squirrel. "Nice, Sammy, cute." Sam was still laughing at him, Dean couldn't resist for long and started laughing to, he threw squirrel at his brother. Sam threw it back. "Thanks, Sam."

"Sure, Dean," he smiled. "Anytime."

Epilogue

"Damn it's good to be out of that hospital," Dean said from the passenger seat of the Impala.

"It's good to see you out," Sam said with just a little frown.

"Sammy, I'm ok, another couple of weeks in this cast and I'll be good as new, better in fact, that hot nurse said she'd come by and make sure the circulation was still ok."

"I don't know how you do it," Sam said pulling the car into the parking place outside the motel. He walked around the car and opened the door, holding a hand to help his brother out. Dean grabbed it and let Sam pull him up.

"Thanks," he said as he took the crutches from Sam. He reached back into the car and pulled the plush squirrel off the dashboard and put it carefully in his pocket. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing, Dean," Sam said looking at him, a grin spreading on his face. He walked ahead of him and opened the door, holding it until Dean got to the room.

Dean paused on the threshold, looking out at the sunset, the sky streaked with wisps of clouds, tendrils tracing a path across the sky, blood red where the sun still touched it and black against the eastern horizon. The clouds wove a tapestry of color across the sky. He sighed and turned to follow his brother into the bright motel room, warm, the comforting, familiar smell of pizza and hot chocolate wafting out into the night.

The motel backed up against the forest, the scent of wet fir trees sweet in the cool evening. The ripe smell of fermented berries filled the night. The setting sun had turned the leaves scattered across the ground muted tones of red and brown. A squirrel was chattering away in a tree. Dean smiled, it was a nice night.

"Dean, come on, pizza's getting cold," Sam called from the warm room

"Coming Sammy."

And the squirrel was suddenly silent.

Dean thought he saw something move, a soft sigh whispered on the evening breeze, a soft breath humming in the trees. And he knew, realization curling through him like the cold touch of the winter wind. The first gentle touch of fear wound its way up through his senses, chilling him, taking a small piece of him into the night.

It's still out there.

The End