Dean

God it hurt. It hurt even to breath, but when he tried not doing that it hurt too. He was sure there must be a reason behind the pain. There usually was. But he couldn't for the life of him fathom what it might be. Maybe if he opened his eyes he would be given some kind of clue.

A quick shift from blackness into Technicolor night and the vertigo was overpowering. Face first staring at a dark void into nothingness before him, spinning and spiralling like someone was playing with the focus. Like there was a Hitchcock film in his head. One look at it and he instantly recoiled, but then the ground gave way and he was slipping, sliding into the nothingness.

With a confused yell of fear he rapped his arms and legs around the narrow surface he was lying on, slowing his fall. Rough bark cut into his cheek as he pressed on for dear life. Twigs dug into his ribs, leaves tickling his nose, playing with his hair. He pried an eye open again and tried to make sense of this new knowledge.

He was in a tree.

He was in a frigging tree. Suspended over a two hundred foot drop into what sounded like the blackness of water beneath him.

"Huh."

He moved tentatively. Despite he general aches of his miracle landing he didn't appear to be hurt. He manoeuvred himself until he was sitting upright, straddling the branch that had broken his fall. Staring up the jagged cliff face he could make out the road some 30 feet above him. The night was less dark in that direction. It was shattered by the glowing of red and blue lights. The distant clatter of voices. The wail of sirens.

The police were here. Possibly looking for him. An ambulance? That would be nice right about now. The spirit? It had done its work; it would probably be long gone now. Until tomorrow night at least. There was something else up there too though. Something obvious he was missing.

"Oh shit. Sam."

His mind cleared in an instant. Sam was already down when he'd fell. His shotgun had already gone over and he was struggling to rise. That was why he'd stepped in. To try and get the spirit away from his brother, to buy him the time to compose himself once more. He'd kind of forgotten in the adrenaline rush of that moment that he'd been standing at the edge of a cliff at the time. He knew Sam had seen him fall, but after that he knew nothing. Didn't even know how long ago that had been.

Who had called the police to the scene? It wouldn't have been Sam, and he knew now with a cold certainty that the ambulance wasn't for him.

There was more cursing then. The battle to get the panic under control. He had to get off this cliff, out of this tree. If the police found him here they'd help him up, but they'd also be convinced he was responsible for the attacks. After all, he was either dead or a serial killer. He had trouble keeping track of which.

There was a vague path leading upwards and away from the scene of his fall. Taking a deep breath and willing himself not to look down he began the slow and steady climb back to solid ground, dragging himself forwards on protesting arms, willing the sound of sirens to mask the shifting of rocks, his grunts of exertion, the pounding of his heart that he knew would only calm when he found out what that thing had done to his brother. What he'd allowed it to do by leaving them alone together.

He finally swung his legs over the side, rolling up onto level ground, collapsing panting into the long grass, watching the shadows in the distance, the movement of people against the flashing lights. Searching for any sign of Sam. A gurney was raised onto the back of the ambulance and he didn't need binoculars, didn't need any kind of confirmation other than his instincts, his big brother alarm senses to know who was in that van. Who was being taken away from him.

He was cursing again. But the sirens were still blaring as the ambulance moved away, which was a good thing. There would be no need to hurry if Sam was already dead. But if the last thing his brother had seen was him falling backwards into nothingness, then that was not a good thing. That was potentially a very real problem.

The police were still searching. They would be at the hospital too. They would need to talk to Sam. Ask him what had happened. His face had been on the news again last night. Sam had scolded him and told him to be more careful. He had just laughed. He wasn't laughing now. His face would not be allowed anywhere near his brother after this.

Sam was no longer here so there was no reason for him to stay. He moved away silently into the night, glad for once that they had walked and he had not left the searching police his car. There was no way he could go to him, but there was no way he could leave Sam to wake up alone either.

With trembling fingers he pulled out his phone.

…………………………

"Dean?"

"Tell me you haven't left yet?"

"I'm just loading the car now, why?"

"I need your help."

"What happened to 'it's straight forward, we got this one'?"

"That was before it threw me off the cliff."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Shit."

"I know, tell me about it."

"You okay? Where are you? Just stay there, I'm on my way."

"No. I need you to go find Sam. You have to go to the hospital and find Sam."

"Hospital? What happened?"

"I don't know, but they were carting him off in an ambulance when I got back up here."

"Dean, I know you're probably not going to appreciate this, but try not to panic okay. None of the other victims were killed. They just got… knocked about a bit."

"Yeah. But you know Sammy. He's always been an over achiever."

"Yeah, well hang tight and I'll come and get you. We can go find him together."

"No. This place is swarming with cops. I can't be seen here. Not now. They'll either order an autopsy or arrest me. I need… He's gonna be alone. He saw me fall and now he's gonna be alone. You've got to try and make him understand why I'm not there. If he tells them I was here… I don't know. If he gets them dredging the river for me or something this isn't going to end well for any of us. Just… he has to stick to the story. If he has concussion as bad as the others he probably doesn't remember the story."

"Okay, I'm on it."

"Tell them you're looking for Sam Cooper. He should still have the collage ID on him. Tell them you had a fight and he took off. Said he was walking back to the dorm but you can't get hold of him now. Then you remembered he had to walk past the rise to get there, and you're worried after the other attacks. You need to…"

"Dean. I don't have concussion. I remember the story."

"Okay. Sorry. Just… let him know I'm okay. That I'll be in to see him when the police have gone, but until he gets rid of them I'm going to have to stay away. But I won't be far away."

"Alright."

"And call me. When you find out how he is. Call me."

"Okay. Hold tight. I'll talk to you soon."

…………………………

He was sitting in the car. He had the heating on but he couldn't seem to get warm. The sun was long up. No one had passed him in scuba gear yet so he figured they weren't looking for him in the water, but Bobby was yet to call him back. Surely it didn't take this long to figure out someone was fine. Bruised but fine.

A sharp ringing interrupted his thoughts.

"What the hell's going on?"

"Well hello to you too."

"Bobby. Are you with him? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. I'm sat with him now."

"Put him on." He'd never needed to hear that voice more in his life. Sleep filled and weary as it would no doubt be and his heart might just break at the sound of it, but he needed to hear it all the same.

"I can't right now. He's asleep." Bobby sounded a little sheepish.

"What happened?"

"They may have drugged him a little bit. We had a bit of a freak out. He was already asking for you before I got here. You're his cousin and you're dead. He's not really taking that news too well."

"Bur you managed to explain things to him right?" he was desperate for some kind of reassurance.

"I'm on it. I haven't had a moment alone with him yet. He woke up pretty confused. I think the only thing he really remembers is that you're dead, and he's pretty upset that I won't let him see you. Luckily every time he gets worked up about it someone sedates him before he can say too much. He's sleeping it off. Should be slightly more rational when he wakes."

"But apart from that he's okay?"

"He got conked on the head pretty good. That's why he's so loopy. His hands back in plaster again I'm sure you'll be pleased to know, but there's no serious damage. Keeps looking at me like he expects me to sprout a third eye or something, but it's nothing rest won't fix."

He let out a sigh he was surprised didn't blow the other man away as it passed through the phone. He was suddenly so weary. So very aware that he had been up all night. Spent more of it than he'd have liked in a tree.

He nodded and smiled and lent against the seat, warming his face in the sun, sinking deeper into the upholstery at the knowledge of a disaster averted. The worry and strain leaving him he could feel his mind beginning to shut down, giving in to the sleep his uncertainty had denied him. The ringing phone would wake him when it was time to move again, when it was time to resume his place at his brother's side, but until then he was off duty. He had left a capable stand in in charge. He would let his eyes drift closed and give in to the same darkness they had forced on Sam.

………………………………

How did he always manage to look about five in sleep? Was it some in built little brother defence mechanism to ensure a fight never lasted until morning, because honestly, how could you look at that sleeping face and feel anger? Frustration, exasperation, occasionally fear, guilt, dread and paralysing inadequacy. But never anger.

Today it was perhaps a mixture of all of the above. He tried not to be worried about the fact he was still sleeping but to instead find some small level of comfort in the knowledge it allowed he and Bobby to both keep their word. He would be here, Bobby would let Sam see him, and he would be the first thing those eyes took in as they slowly…

Fluttered...

Awake…

THE END.