In Your Wildest Dreams

By AJ Wesley

Happy Birthday, Kati!

This is for you, with love and gratitude

Chapter 1

Dean muttered a stream of curses as he struggled up the side of the rock-strewn hill. The damned thing moved fast. Once they'd finally found it, it had taken off, and the pursuit was nearing an hour. It was playing with them.

Dean glanced up, looking for a tree he could use as cover before cresting the hill. One swipe of those huge clawed paws could take off half his face, and he'd just about had enough already. Dean angled toward a large oak whose roots snaked down the hill, offering him a more stable hold than the rocks. Easier on the hands, too. He was already on the verge of leaving his own blood trail.

Sam was behind him to the right, trying to flank it. Dean managed to catch his brother's eye and motioned for him to head farther right and seek his own cover. Sam nodded and moved off.

Backing up against the tree, Dean took a moment to catch his breath and draw his .45. Safety off. Okay. Inhaling deeply, he peered around the tree.

There on the plateau, not more than ten feet away, it peered right back. And then it grinned at him.

Dean shuddered. He'd seen a lot of freaky-ass things in his career, but this one took the prize. The lion body with razor sharp claws and scorpion tail he could deal with, but the human head with its three rows of teeth was just…well, it was just…wrong. And, man, he hated when it grinned at him like that.

A manticore. Who knew? What was next, a centaur? Pan?

Dean heard it laugh, and peeked back around the tree. Sam had advanced and made it safely up onto the plateau, but now he was standing in plain sight, trying to draw the creature toward him so Dean could finish his climb. Damn it. He tore from behind the tree.

The manticore whipped its tail and crouched like it was preparing to pounce. Sam took aim and fired, but the creature moved with incredible speed. From the horrific howl, Dean was sure Sam's bullet had hit it, but that didn't stop it. Sam tucked and rolled as the stinger tail slammed into the ground where he'd been a moment before. He came up in a crouch just as Dean reached him, and they both took aim.

The creature's gaze flicked between them, as if it knew it couldn't take out both of them and was trying to decide which one it should target. Dean took a step forward, leaving Sam a clear shot but drawing the thing's attention. It grinned at him again, an eyebrow quirking as if it knew exactly what Dean was thinking.

Dean suppressed another shudder. "Head or heart?" he asked over his shoulder.

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "No one's come up against one of these things before. Both?"

Dean nodded. "Sounds like a plan. I'll take the high road." He took aim, and—

His foot shifted. Or rather, the ground beneath it did. For a moment, Dean thought he had stepped too close to the edge, but a quick glance showed him otherwise.

As soon as his eyes were averted, the manticore pounced…right at Sam.

But Sam wasn't there. In the instant it took the shock to register, Dean felt the earth give way beneath him and he was falling. He flailed in a vain attempt to catch onto something, anything to stop his plunge into…whatever. But there was nothing. Dirt surrounded him, got into his eyes, his mouth, his nose. How far a drop was it? It could—

Oh, God. Sammy.

And then there was pain. Thousands of tiny needles pricking his flesh. He was moving in slow motion and didn't understand why until he opened his mouth and swallowed water. Ice cold water. It had broken the fall, but his moment of relief was stomped out by a blaze of anxiety. He was completely submerged and had no idea which way was up.

Don't panic, don't panic! Dean opened his eyes, felt the cold burn. There, to the left, was a flicker of light. Sunlight through trees? Dean righted himself and, with a strong kick, propelled himself toward what he hoped was the right direction.

He broke the surface and coughed up water before he could drag in lungfuls of precious air. Through the roaring in his ears, he thought he heard his name.

"Sam?" he tried, but it was more a choke than anything else.

"Dean!"

There was some splashing, then a strong arm encircled his shoulders, a forearm under his chin, keeping his head above water.

"Y'all right?" his brother asked, breathless.

Dean blinked, trying to focus. "Yeah. Peachy," he managed to croak.

Sam began to drag him backward, and Dean reached up to grab his brother's arm. That was when he realized his .45 was still gripped firmly in his right hand. Then he remembered the manticore.

About a second too late.

Loud splashing and a panicked snarl close by set Dean's nerves on edge. Then he was being whisked around as Sam put himself between Dean and the creature.

A howl, a grunt, a gunshot.

"Sammy!"

"Go!" his brother yelled.

The only reason he did was because he felt Sam move, too. His focus was finally coming back, and Dean could see the embankment. He swam, powerful strokes swiftly carrying him the distance. Dean struggled out of the frigid water and twisted around so his back wasn't to the threat. Sam climbed out beside him, and Dean grabbed a handful of jacket and hauled him up. Panting, Sam spun and took aim at the wildly thrashing creature.

Okay, add that to the journal. Manticores can't swim.

"Let's try that again," Dean said, bringing his own weapon to bear.

Shot after shot rang out, the report bouncing off the rock walls long after they had stopped firing.

Sam was panting beside him as they watched the manticore slide beneath the surface, that horrific face no longer grinning. When it was gone, Dean let himself fall backward, wet denim splatting on the smooth rock. He shivered violently, his gaze drifting upward to the stalactites hanging over his head.

With a small gasp, Dean pushed up onto his elbows and looked around. Sunlight from above illuminated the cavern. Sunlight from a hole no less than twenty feet above their heads, centered over the water. They weren't getting out that way.

"Son of a—"

"There's got to be another way out, right?" Sam asked, reading his thoughts.

Dean looked over at his brother, taking in the wet hair, the blue-tinged lips. They really should be moving. "Yeah, probably. We just need to—" His eyes caught the stain of red on Sam's shirt. "You're bleeding."

Sam looked down, his face registering surprise as he fingered the four gashes in his shirt, the seeping claw marks high on the right side of his chest. "Huh," was all he said.

It was gonna hurt like hell when he warmed up. Dean examined the injury a little closer. It didn't look too bad, thank God, since all their supplies were topside. Except…. He patted down his pockets and, with a relieved sigh, pulled out his Mini-Maglite. When he looked up, he saw that Sam had his, too. "Save it," Dean advised.

With a nod, Sam tucked away the flashlight. "So," he glanced around, "which way do you think?"

Yeah, that was the real question, wasn't it? "Well," Dean looked around at the numerous passages leading off the cavern, "eeny, meeny, miney, mo." Dean shrugged. "If it starts going down deeper, we turn around and try another one."

"Sounds like this is gonna take a while," Sam said, pushing carefully to his feet.

"Yep." Dean grinned. "Hope you had your Wheaties this morning." He accepted Sam's hand up and grimaced when his feet squished inside his boots. "Gah."

Sam was already stripping layers, wringing out shirts. "Hey, at least we got the manticore, right?"

Dean sat on a nearby boulder and pulled off his boot, emptying at least a cup of water. "Too bad you don't have any heat to go along with that sunshine, Sunshine."

And despite everything, Sam laughed.

oooOOOooo

Two hours later, they were still wet, on their third passage, and no closer to finding a way out.

Once again, Dean pulled out his lighter and flicked the flame to life. Not so much as a waver. "I got nothin'," he announced, squinting into the darkness ahead. "What say we head back and try another passage?"

No answer.

Dean turned around, swinging the light toward his brother. "Hey."

Sam stood still, his head canted. He held up a hand, his index finger slightly raised: Just a sec…

Dean crept closer, eyeing the way they'd come.

"Did you hear that?" Sam asked, voice low.

"What?" he whispered back.

Sam paused, listened, then shook his head. "I don't know, man. It was like…like something was following us."

Dean whipped the light up, shining the beam down the corridor. Empty as far as he could see. He shrugged.

Sam's brows drew together and, with a small wince, he rubbed at the area surrounding the cuts on his chest. "You don't think the manticore—"

"Dude, it's dead. We nailed it, like, ten times." No way that freaky thing was still alive. No way.

"You sure?"

Aww, man, no way. "Yes!" Then again… "Pretty sure." Son of a—

Sam's head snapped to his right and he drew his gun. "There it is again!"

Dean yanked his weapon from his wet waistband and followed Sam's lead. "I didn't hear anything." He pressed his shoulder against the rock wall across from Sam and crossed his wrists, the Maglite beam guiding his aim. He waited a moment, straining to hear whatever it was Sam had. Nothing. He sighed. "All right. Let's go."

Dividing his attention between their route and his brother, Dean sidestepped his way back to the cavern where they'd started. Sam moved like they were on a hunt, arms rigid, hands gripping his weapon tightly. His eyes darted, constantly scanning. Okay, the place was really dark, and kinda creepy. Something wasn't right.

Sam froze, his eyes wide. Before Dean could question him, his brother spun, his aim swinging past Dean to the darkness behind them, and fired. The bullet pinged off the rock, and Dean instinctively ducked.

When the echo ceased and the dust settled, and all Dean could hear was the sound of his heart pounding, he lowered his arm and stared at his brother. "Dude, what the hell?"

"Did you see that?" Sam asked breathlessly. "What was it?"

Dean straightened, his skin pricking into gooseflesh. "I didn't see anything."

"Its eyes…" Sam's aim didn't waver. "They glowed."

Dean panned the light across the area. "There's nothing there, Sam."

"But there was!" his brother insisted. "I swear, Dean!"

"All right, Sam. All right," he soothed. "But it's not there now. Just…take it easy, okay?" He took a step closer, brought the light up obliquely to Sam's face. His pupils were so big, there was hardly a hint of hazel around them. They barely reacted to the light.

Damn it. Dean flipped the safety on and tucked his gun back into his waistband, then laid his hand over his brother's. Sam was trembling.

"Easy, bro, easy. Relax." Dean kept the light fixed where Sam was staring, hoping he could see that nothing was there. With a gentle push, Dean urged the weapon down. Sam fought him, fear in his eyes. "Sammy, look at me. Look."

It took real effort, but Sam obeyed.

"There's nothing there, Sam."

"But, Dean—"

"You gotta trust me on this, okay?" He grasped the 9 mil and pried it loose.

"No, Dean, please."

"It's okay, Sam," Dean assured him, keeping his tone soft, even. He eased the weapon from Sam's grasp and tucked it into his pocket. "We're gonna go back to the cavern and try another way, okay?" Sam's eyes darted about. "Hey! You with me?"

Sam focused back on Dean. He closed his eyes, breathed through his nose. "Okay," he said as if trying to convince himself. "Okay."

Dean patted his cheek, taking the opportunity to gauge his temperature. No fever. Sam was actually pretty cold. So, what? Dean's gaze lowered to the diagonal rips in Sam's shirt, the bloody skin beneath. Infection? No, that would generate a fever. Poison?

Dean ran a hand over his face. "Come on, Sam." With a hand centered on his brother's back, Dean gave him a gentle push, urging him forward. Sam's head turned slightly as he glanced behind, still terrified something was after them. Dean put himself between Sam and the imagined threat and kept them moving.

Okay, so, poison. Toxin? Sam didn't seem to be in any pain. Hallucinogen, then? Great. Sasquatch on a nightmare LSD trip. At least it wasn't fatal. Was it? God. Come on, Dean, think! There just wasn't enough info out there on manticores. If he could just—

Sam stopped and took a backward step. Dean crashed right into him.

"Sam?"

Sam reached back, his fist clenching in the denim of Dean's jacket. "It…it…"

"There's nothing there, Sam," he insisted.

His brother whirled. "God, they're everywhere! Dean!"

"Sammy, listen to me!" Dean practically yelled. "I think the manticore drugged you. You're seeing things. You gotta focus." He took Sam's shoulders in his hands. "There's nothing there! You hear me?"

But Sam's eyes were glazed and wide with fear. He shook his head. "No. No!" Before Dean could stop him, Sam grabbed the gun from his waistband.

"Sammy, no!"

"Dean, look out!"

Shoved aside, Dean hit the wall as three shots rang out, bullets ricocheting in the confined space. "Sa—"

Pain lanced through his skull, turning everything white. Dean fought for balance, clutching at the smooth rock face for support. Limestone. Slippery. His legs gave way, sending him crashing to his knees, where he swayed, trying not to topple. Sam. Sam was… Sam was…

Dean glanced around, shadows in the dark. Couldn't see out of his right eye. Something… He reached up and touched his face. Wet…sticky… Dean held out his hand. It was stained black in the dim light. Light—where was the Maglite? Had to have light. God, his head hurt. Where was…?

"Dean? Dean!"

Couldn't keep his head up anymore. He felt himself falling but couldn't do anything about it.

Arms caught him, held him close. A long leg hooked around him, supporting his back, his head nestling into the crook of an arm. So cold, but somehow warm. "S-Sammy?"

"Dean. Oh, God. Oh, God."

There was sheer panic in Sam's voice. It couldn't be that bad…could it? "Sam," Dean said again, but it sounded more like a croak.

"No, no, no. Come on, Dean, don't you do this. Not after Nebraska. After everything."

Guess it was that bad. Funny, it wasn't like he'd thought it would be.

"Dean…please…don't leave me. Please."

Something warm and wet splashed onto Dean's face and he flinched. Then Sam's forehead was touching his, and Dean felt himself swaying…no, rocking. Sam was rocking him.

For an instant, Dean wanted to push away, to shout, to scream. He didn't want to die in some friggin' cave, to leave Sammy alone down there. This was so wrong.

Sam's other arm slid around his back and pulled him close. Dean melted into the embrace, hearing, feeling his brother's sobs. It lodged a lump in his throat. I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry.

Sound tunneled, echoed. Sam's voice. But Dean couldn't understand the words. He was falling again and, like last time, he had no idea what, if anything, would break his fall.

TBC