Connections
Chapter 1
Sam woke up to another migraine tearing through his skull like fire through a dead forest. Looking over at Dean, who was still asleep on the other lumpy bed in the dingy motel room, Sam decided he could use the time to compose himself before his "awesome" big brother started asking questions. He made his way to the tiny bathroom, slid the door mostly closed and snapped on the light.
Instantly his brain exploded. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to catch his breath. Opening his eyes slowly he waited for the pain again but instead was greeted by tunnel vision. He blinked a few times and tried to focus on his appearance in the water spotted mirror. Man, you look like crap. He thought, taking in the dark circles and pain lines around his eyes. Leaning on the rim of the sink he turned on the water with a squeak of the knob and waited for the rust to be flushed from the system and down the filthy drain.
Sam washed his hands and doused his face with cool water, raking some of the wetness back through his disheveled hair. Feeling no better, he swallowed two Tylenol from the bottle on the back of the sink and washed his face again.
"Man, what is wrong with me?" he muttered softly to the haggard looking face staring back at him from the mirror. As he looked at himself something moving in the room behind the partially closed door caught his attention. Dean? He reached for a pitifully thin towel and dried his face; again brushing his dark, wavy hair back as it fell into his hazel eyes. Sam turned and opened the door to face the movement in the room and…
"Help me." She whispered. Sam was greeted by the image of a girl, about his age, clad in a white blouse and tattered jeans. She was pale, shaking, and altogether too ghostly looking. "Find me, please!" She said and started to fade away.
"How?" Sam gasped as pain rocketed through his brain and she vanished from view.
"Uhhh…" he cried and reached for his head with both hands. Nausea swamped him and he fell to his knees in the bathroom doorway.
"D-dean." Sam managed as he collapsed to the grimy floor with a thud.
Chapter 2
"D-dean." Dean thought he heard someone calling to him through the thinning haze of blissful sleep. It had been too long since he and Sammy had had a decent nights sleep. Dean still had nightmares about Sam dying in his arms, the victim of a knife to his back by that son of a bitch, Jake. Because I distracted him. Sam was plagued by fitful nights of two or three hours sleep because his mind would not stop going over ways to save his big brother from the consequences of his soul-selling deal with the damn crossroads demon. Through his semi slumbering musings Dean heard a thud and glanced over at the other bed in the ugly motel room. Empty.
"Sammy?" Dean said groggily as he sat up in bed. He looked around the lightening room and could just make out a shape on the floor in the bathroom doorway.
Sam's hand. "Sammy!" Dean was out of bed, instantly fully awake and at his baby brother's side. Sam was face down on the grungy gray linoleum as Dean knelt down.
"Sammy! Sam, wake up. C'mon kiddo…" Dean pleaded shaking Sam's shoulder. Oh God. He's freezing. Dean thought, feeling Sam's chill through the thin white T-shirt he had on. Dean sat on his heels on the stained floor and rolled Sam's limp body over, cradling him to his chest like an infant. Checking his pulse and terrified at how weak it felt, along with how shallow his breathing was; Dean noted a cut on Sam's lower lip and another small one on his forehead above his right eyebrow.
"C'mon dude… Sammy, answer me, man." Dean coaxed, trying to get a response from his brother. He grabbed the towel Sam had dropped from the floor and used a damp spot to bathe Sam's sweat streaked face and wipe drying blood from the two cuts.
"Mmmm…" Sam moaned and stirred slightly in Dean's arms. Dean could see Sam's eyes moving behind their lids. Eyes that had such dark circles under them that Dean felt like an ass for not noticing sooner.
"That's it, Sammy. Show me those big puppy-dog eyes." Please let me know you're okay. Dean thought sullenly to himself wondering why he hadn't seen that Sam wasn't right earlier.
Chapter 3
"Uh…D-dean?" Sam's hazel eyes looked foggily into his big brother's grass green ones. "What h-happened? He asked, moving a shaky hand to his battered forehead. "Ouch," was all he could come up with.
"I don't know, man. I heard a thud and it woke me up. Then I saw you on the floor. You scared the holy crap outta me!"
Dean is rambling. Sam thought absently, trying to still the rocking motion of the room. I must have scared him badly.
"Can you walk?"
"I think. Help me." Sam said shifting in Dean's arms to sit up. Dean helped him to his feet and caught him as he wavered. Together they made it, the scant ten feet, to Sam's bed with Dean all but holding him up. As he eased Sam onto his bed and put his feet up he asked a question that had been bugging him a lot lately; remembering the twinges of pain that would cross Sam's face when he moved wrong or stood up after being thrown into something by some evil bastard they were trying to kill. After all it had only been one week since the "incident" at Cold Oak, South Dakota.
"Is your back still hurting you?
"Not really. How long was I out?" Sam asked wanting desperately to change the subject.
"I dunno. Few minutes, I guess. Did you have a vision?"
Sam pondered the question for a while? "Help me." He muttered. That snapped Dean to full attention. "Sammy, what's wrong?"
"No, Dean, that's what she said. 'Help me. Save me, please.'
"She, who? The girl in your vision?"
"No, the girl I saw in the room with us, or at least the girl's spirit."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I had a migraine when I woke up so I went to the bathroom to wash up and take something. Well, something caught my eye in the mirror and I turned and there she was. Shaking, translucent and begging for help, Dean. That's when my skull started splitting. Next thing I know we're having this conversation. Head still hurts pretty bad." Sam muttered, closing his eyes against the glare from the sun coming through the dusty, smudged window.
"Alright Sasquatch, get some rest. I'll be close." Sam closed his eyes and rolled onto his left side, so as not to reopen the wounds on his forehead and lip, and let out a sigh. He was already out, and Dean headed for the table in the corner and Sam's laptop.
Chapter 4
Musing to himself in frustration and not getting anywhere in researching spiritual appearances, Dean wondered when he'd become so self- absorbed that he didn't noticed Sam's failing health. "Dean, you dumb S.O.B. When are you gonna stop getting your brother hurt, stop letting him down? You just got him back; now the damn visions are trying to take him away again." Flashing back in his mind to just a little while ago when Sam was barely breathing, Dean wished he could kick his own ass.
Glancing at his watch and Sam as he rolled onto his back, Dean realized they hadn't had anything to eat all day. It was now almost 1 p.m.
"Sammy?" Dean walked to the bed and sat down; touching his forehead to make sure his temperature had evened out.
" Huh…what? Sam asked, blinking blearily.
" I'm gonna snag us something to eat. You want somethin' to eat?"
" Yeah, sure." He said closing his eyes again. With a small grin he chimed up,
"Make mine anything that isn't Darwinism." Remembering Dean's penchant for bizarre foods.
"Bitch."
"Jerk"
With that Dean left. Sam could hear the roar of the Impala's engine and the bass of Rush playing as Dean pulled out of the motel parking lot. After the noise of the car faded away, Sam chastised himself for letting Dean notice something was wrong. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and decided to take a shower and be dressed before Dean got back with lunch. Sam grabbed some clothes and headed for the bathroom. Stripping off, he turned on the water, waiting for the rust to clear and steam to rise. He stepped under the surprisingly relaxing spray and let his thoughts drift after the sting of the cuts passed.
Who was she? And why was she so scared? What made it possible for me to see her in front of me instead of in my head? Is she psychic like me? How can I save her?
Sam was still contemplating all the questions running around in his brain when he stepped out of the shower. He dried his muscular frame, dressed in his usual ripped jeans and button down shirt and left the bathroom, waiting for Dean to return.
Hearing the familiar hum of Dean's baby, the Impala, Sam went to open the door.
As usual Dean had his arms loaded down with junk food and beer. Most prominently displayed was an already opened giant size bag of peanut M&M's.
"I hope you brought me something edible, Dean, because I'm actually hungry. I swear you are like the junk food king of the mullet rock era," Sam said playfully; taking one of the bags out of Dean's arms and heading for the table.
"How you feeling?" Dean asked around a mouthful of candy.
"Fine."
"No headache?"
"No, Dean."
"Okay."
"I've been thinking…"
"Oh, that's never good."
"Shut up. I know this wasn't a normal vision, but I think I need we need to find this girl." He said taking a bite of his chicken sandwich.
"Sam, this is Chicago. Unless you saw a big 'I am here' sign around her neck we got no clue where she is. How are we supposed to find one random in a city this big?"
"Maybe I'll get another clue."
"What, another vision? God I hope not." Dean said emphatically.
"Look Dean, I don't like the damn things anymore than you do, but I get them for a reason and I'm gonna do whatever it takes to save the people in them. And you.
Dean looked at Sam. Maybe if he's busy saving innocents he won't do anything stupid to save me from that damn deal.
"You still look a little pale, Sammy. Why don't you take a nap." Dean suggested as they finished eating.
"Okay. What are you gonna do?" Sam asked, feeling drained but noticing it was still very early in the afternoon.
Worry about you. "Take your laptop for a spin, Sammy boy."
"Just don't lock it up on a porn site again." Sam said with a weary chuckle.
"Yeah, whatever dude. I never did that last time. It was the trickster, remember."
Sam's only response was a soft snore.
Poor kid. Dean thought miserably to himself. He hasn't been right since Jess died, and now with everything that's happened… Dean shook his head to clear it of the morbid thoughts crowding his brain and glanced at Sam. He wanted to check on him and make sure he was really okay; that he wasn't still hurting from the knife or from this latest incident, but he stopped himself. He knew just how badly his little brother needed real sleep.
Dean turned his attention back to the computer, and started a search. "Manifestations and Spirit Communications" Dean typed and clicked the search key.
"11,598 results. Lovely," Dean muttered sarcastically, "this is gonna be a long afternoon.
"Ha… Shortcut." He clicked on the advanced search key and filled in all the parameters. Click. "Twelve results. That's better." Dean settled in to read.
Chapter 5
Blinking his eyes and glancing up from the blurring screen, Dean realized it was now dark outside. He looked at his watch. "8:47 p.m. Where did the day go?" he said standing up to stretch just as Sam sat bolt upright in bed with a cry.
"AAAHHH!"
"Sammy, what?" Dean asked, rushing to his side and laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Nightmare. It's her again Dean. I gotta save her, man." Sam said hunching into himself trying to catch his breath.
"We'll find her, Sam." He said giving his little brother a squeeze.
Sam met Dean's eyes with his troubled hazel ones. "Why am I connecting to her? Is she like me?"
"I dunno Sam. We'll figure it out. Dean said, handing Sam a bottle of water.
"It's dark outside?" Sam asked, throwing his legs over the side of the bed.
"Yeah, ten 'till nine. What do you wanna do?
"Find her."
"Whoa. Easy there, Lassie. Before you go rushing off to save Timmy, did you get anything else on where she might be?"
"Yeah, actually I did. I saw her crouched down in an alley behind a junk car, graffiti on it, and the wall behind her. An alcove. Oh, and a sign- Murray's Pawn & Loan."
"Okay, that's something solid to go on, at least. I got something else." Dean said walking to the laptop. "I ran a search while you were asleep and came up with something that makes sense. Here-1991. A teenage girl was lost in one of the more lousy parts of town, and she was being chased by a reported serial killer who was 'working' that particular area, you know, hookers, pimps and druggies, fine upstanding citizens. She had found a semi safe place to hide and as she sat there she kept wishing for someone to find her.
Apparently, she fell asleep where she was hiding and psychically projected herself to a local fortune teller who led the cops to her. But by the time the cops got there, so had the serial killer. Girl was dead and the cops never caught the guy. There's more. It's happening again. Cops have three new cases since last week. Same m.o. Young woman goes missing in the slums and is found later with a knife wound to the chest. Traces of sulfur at the scene, and nothing else." Dean took a breath. "I'm awesome. King of the research hill again." He said with a grin crinkling his green eyes.
"A demonic serial killer?" Sam said incredulously, ignoring Dean's gloating.
"And you think I'm connecting to the girl because I'm psychic? Sam was off the bed and hammering away at the keyboard. "Got a match on the sign. Let's go." Sam said bolting for the door.
Chapter 6
Murray's Pawn & Loan was located in the seediest part of Chicago, and even it was closed at this time of night. The building had thick bars on the windows and a security gate across the entrance. Dean and Sam pulled up in the Impala and looked around before cutting the engine.
"Yatzee." Dean said as he spotted the car, covered in graffiti, and the alcove just off to the right. Sam was out of the car and practically sprinting to the alcove.
"Sam!" Dean said as he got out of the car and unlocked the trunk.
Lifting the lid, and bracing it with the usual rifle, Dean grabbed a shotgun and a few extra rock salt cartridges. He slammed the trunk and ran after Sam. Halfway there he heard Sam.
"Hey! Get away from her!" Sam shouted. Dean raised his shotgun just in time to see Sam fly across the alcove into the brick wall, propelled backwards by the wave of a hand belonging to a shadowy figure.
"Nuughhh…" Sam cried as he slumped to the littered pavement, blood darkening the hair on the back of his head. The none- too-solid form advanced on the unconscious girl lying on her side a few feet from Sam's unmoving body. Dean unloaded the shotgun into the demon and it dissolved with an inhuman shriek into a cloud of black smoke and streamed into the storm drain. Dean bolted to Sam's side. Dropping the shotgun, he looked him over. His neck isn't broken. Sam was face down on the dirty asphalt and Dean needed to see his brother wake up, so he gathered him into his arms and gently rolled him over. Sam's skin was ashen and he was cold. That scared Dean. Sam hadn't been cold since… no!
"Sammy, Sam! Come on, come on. Wake up for me. Huh? Sam?" Dean hugged him close and felt his eyes water.
"You can't leave me Sammy. I got nothing left to give for you. Come on, dammit. Please!" Sam gave a choking gasp and started breathing. Correction- wheezing.
"Sammy. Thank God, open your eyes." His eyelids fluttered but his eyes were rolled back in his head and he was still gasping and wheezing, struggling for his next breath, desperately. Dean got Sam under the chin and tilted his head so he could see Sam's eyes in the dim glow from the streetlamp about fifty feet away.
"Focus on me Sam. Wake up… that's it, that's it." Dean said relieved to see his hazel eyes start to clear a little.
"D-Dean, Can't….Breathe..." Sam choked hoarsely. "Back…" His eyes closed, and then opened again, a bluish tinge now around his lips. Dean sat Sam up, leaning his head on his shoulder, and lifted his shirt.
"Oh, God." Sam's back was a mass of swelling bruises. Many already so dark they looked black. His healing wound was an angry red-purple and badly swollen. Sam's head lolled back on his shoulders and Dean knew, with a sick feeling, his brother was failing.
"C'mon, little brother. Hold on alright?" Sam gave a cough and his breath rasped in his throat. At least he could breathe, somewhat, semi-sitting like he was.
"Dean, Uh… check… on her."
"You first."
"Please."
Dean leaned Sam against the wall he had hit awkwardly, trying not to let his head or back bear any of his weight. Sam slumped there and willed oxygen into his battered body. When he inhaled shakily his back touched the wall and he immediately arched away with a cry of pain, spots dancing before his eyes. Dean had walked over to the girl lying on the pavement and checked her pulse. Alive, at least. Sam had managed to save her. Almost killing himself in the process.
"She's alive Sammy."
"Good…good." His eyes closed and re-opened, seemingly with more difficulty this time as he swayed to the left where he was sitting. Dean rushed back to his side, steadying him and placing a hand on his cheek.
"Sammy?"
"Kay, Dean."
"I gotta get you outta here. That son of a bitch might come back to finish the job."
"Her…first." He pleaded breathlessly
"Okay. You stay awake." He said putting the reloaded shotgun in Sam's uncooperative fingers. "I'll only be a minute." Dean picked the girl up, walked to the car, put her in the backseat and rushed back to Sam's side.
"Can you walk?"
"Dunno." At least Sam was talking easier. Sort of. Mindful of Sam's back, Dean helped him stand unsteadily. Sam leaned on his brother; threatening to topple them both as his head bobbed on his shoulders, blood trickling down his neck. Dean pulled his right arm around his neck, and holding on to his low waist made his way to the car. Sam was wheezing again by the time they made it back to the Impala, and Dean was breathless from having to support almost all of his bigger little brothers weight.
"You need a hospital, Sam."
"No… Feds." Sam wheezed, reminding Dean he was still wanted for murder along with a mile long list of other 'crimes'. "Just rest…ice." Dean thought how best to get Sam into the car and realized there was no way around it.
"This is gonna hurt like a bitch. Luckily the motels only a few minutes away." The thought of his baby brother being in pain sent bile racing into the back of Dean's throat.
Chapter 7
"God." Sam winced as Dean lowered him slowly and as gently as possible into the passenger seat, tears streaking his dirty face.
"Sorry, Sammy. Sorry." I'll get you safe in a minute." Dean shut the door and raced around the front of the car to the driver's seat.
Every bump, turn and shift of gears was torture for Sam. His vision kept fading, and he could do nothing about the sick feeling he got with every spasm shooting fire thought his back. It really didn't help matters that his head was now thumping with every beat of his racing heart. Dean glanced at Sam every two seconds of the five minute trip back to their room. Thank God the room was on the ground floor. There was no way Sam could have negotiated stairs. Getting him through the door was going to be hard enough, Dean thought.
Pulling into the parking lot, as close to their door as possible Dean said, "Okay Sammy. Let's get you inside." Thanking their lousy luck for once that it was after midnight and no one was around to see Dean carry an unconscious girl and Sam into their room.
"Take her first. I need to breathe." Sam said in an agonized voice, turning slightly green. Dean had a fleeting thought about his upholstery. "Really hurts bad."
"Fine. Don't you pass out on me. I can't carry your ass."
"Kay."
Dean lifted the girls still unconscious form from the back seat and took her through the door, which he kicked open since the lock was broken, laying her on his bed. He checked her pulse and looked her over. She now had a purple bruise surrounding the small cut on her cheek. He glanced around the nasty room. At least all of our gear is still here. With that he made his way back to get Sam, leaving the door open. Dean was halfway to the car when he was brought up short by an awful sight. Sam's head had fallen forward, chin against chest, and a small amount of blood leaked from the right corner of his mouth. Dean threw open the car door with a squeak and reached for Sam, worried he had died.
"No…no, Sammy. Dammit, wake up. Don't do this." Dean pleaded catching his brother's head in his hands as a horrifying picture went through his mind of another time, not too long ago, that he held his brothers lifeless body in his arms. Dean carefully wiped the blood from Sam's mouth with his thumb, expecting it to be replaced, but instead his thumb revealed a reopened cut on Sam's lower lip.
Oh, thank god. "Come on, Sammy."
"Uhhh… Dean?"
"Yeah, Sam. Let's get you inside." Dean hauled him to his unsteady feet with a wince on his part and a sigh of relief on Dean's. A minute later they were in the room and Sam eyed the still form on Dean's bed from his own.
"She okay?"
"Yeah. Out cold. Let's take care of you. Can you get your shirt off?"
"Think so," he said with a grimace as he raised shaking hands to unbutton it. Dean helped him pull it off and lie down on his stomach, with the pillow under his chest to help keep his back straight. Looking at Sam's back and head, Dean said "God, you hit hard. You're a mess."
"I figured that by the way it hurts." Sam said sarcastically, then hissed as Dean touched a particularly deep bruise not an inch from the semi healed knife wound.
"Aahh… ice Dean."
"I'll be right back." He said grabbing a thin towel from the bathroom and heading outside to the ice machine. He came back a few minutes later with a makeshift extra large ice pack. He sat it down long enough to pull a sheet and thin blanket up to Sam's shoulders and gingerly placed the ice on his back. Sam inhaled sharply as the cold set in then relaxed.
"Thanks, Dean."
Dean grabbed the other towel from rack in the bathroom and wet it down. Taking it to Sam's side he cleaned the dry blood from his matted hair. Looking at the back of his head, he didn't think stitches were necessary. And he would know. He'd done a lot of stitches on his family in the past.
"Dammit, Rambo, You scared the crap outta me for the second time since we got to this freakin' town. Do it again and I'll kill you!"
"No you won't." Sam chuckled carefully and closed his eyes to rest.
You're right, I won't. Dean mused and looked over at the girl when she stirred. He went over and sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to examine the cut and bruise on her cheek. Her eyes snapped open and she was curling up against the worn headboard trying to get away from Dean. When she hit the wall in the corner, Dean held up both hands to show her he wasn't gonna hurt her.
"Shhh… its okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. You're safe here." He said trying to soothe her. She didn't respond and didn't take her eyes off him. "Your face has some dry blood on it. Can I clean you up some?" Instead of answering him her eyes were glued to Sam's resting form. "What's your name?" Dean asked, heading for the bathroom to get a feeble washcloth, dampening it before he came back in.
"Kira. What happened to him?" she asked noting Sam's condition.
"He got hurt saving you from the thing in the alley." Dean clued her in. "My name's Dean. That's Sam."
"I'm sorry. How did you find me?" she asked, finally letting Dean get close enough to clean the cut on her cheek. Kira was still staring at Sam with a bemused look on her face.
"Long story. What is it?" He asked, wanting to know what was going on in her obviously freaked out mind.
"I've never left Chicago, but I have the feeling I know him. I've talked to him."
"You're psychic, aren't you? Sam thought so." Dean said getting right to the point, and won a flinch from Kira.
"Yeah, I guess so. I don't really understand it. It all started a little over a year ago. I had headaches and then I found out I could make people hear my thoughts. It scared the hell outta me." she murmured, needing to be honest with the people who saved her.
"I think you can do more than that." Dean said carefully, not wanting to upset Kira further.
"What do you mean?"
Chapter 8
He hunkered down, eye level with her. "My brother, he's psychic too. He has visions and he's used telekinesis at least once" He stated, being totally honest with her. "He saw you in one of his visions. You were crying and begging him to find you. But the thing we didn't get at first was how you and some details of your surroundings actually appeared to him, here in the room." She took all this in without a word.
"What was that awful thing in the alley? It threw me around and never even touched me. It wanted to kill me, didn't it?"
"Yeah, probably. We think it's a demon or a vengeful spirit of a serial killer that roamed that area about forty years ago."
"You're kidding, right?"
"You think so? You believe in psychics but not spirits? That thing just about killed my little brother, and you."
"I'm sorry," Kira said tiredly with tears in her eyes.
"Look," Dean sighed. "It's not your fault. I'm just glad Sam will be okay and we managed to save you. It's been a long night" He said, noticing the sun was coming up. "Why don't you get some rest? Then I'll wake Sam and we'll get something to eat." I'm getting too used to this life. He mused. Dean once again headed to the laptop wanting to do more research on serial killers on Chicago. He was surprisingly not tired for having missed a night of sleep. He just wanted to find out which spirit this was, find its weakness, and kill the son of a bitch for hurting his baby brother.
Forty minutes into his search, he had results and glanced up when he heard Sam stir.
"Dean?"
"I'm here."
"I'm cold. Get the ice off me." Dean pulled the sodden towel and blanket off Sam's back, and folded back the reasonably dry sheet.
"Don't move, Sammy. I wanna look." Dean said, taking in the damage to Sam's upper back. "Swellings down. Your backs almost solid purple though. Looks like its all above your kidneys this time"- he said remembering a time Sam took a hit and nearly suffered kidney failure. He was in the hospital for a week, and had had to have surgery.-"which is good."
"I need to move, Dean, or I'm gonna get stiff. Help me up."
"Easy Sam. Take it easy." Dean said, helping Sam shift to his side and put his feet on the floor. Sam pushed himself up, pain lines evident on his face, as he put his shirt back on.
"Would you mind getting me some Tylenol?"
Dean handed Sam two pills and a bottle of water thirty seconds later. Then he went to the next bed to wake Kira.
"Kira, hey." Dean said, gently shaking her awake. "Sam's okay and I was wondering if you were hungry." She stretched and looked at Dean, then Sam. "I guess I could eat. What time is it?"
"7:30 a.m. I'm assuming you don't feel up to a car ride right about now do ya, Sparky?"
"You think." He quipped. "Bring me back some liniment, please Dean."
"Sure." He said, grabbing his keys and jacket and heading for the door.
Dean cleared the door, and Sam sagged. Its gonna be hard to hide this pain from Dean. My back hurts as bad as when Jake stabbed me. Sam groaned, starting to stand, and suddenly Kira was at his side supporting him; even though she was easily a foot shorter than Sam's 6'4".
"You're in pain. I'm sorry for that. I owe you my life. I'm Kira."
"Sam."
"Dean filled me in. You saw me when I needed help?"
"Dean told you?" Sam asked, averting his gaze as he settled gingerly into the worn chair at the table. Kira sat opposite.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of. You're a hero. Truth be told I'm glad I'm not alone anymore."
"Wait. You're psychic?"
"I think so. I can do things."
"What things?"
"I can hear thoughts and make people hear mine, and I think I can… what's the word… astral…"
"Astral project?" Sam asked incredulously.
"That thing was stalking me and I was so scared I just reached out with my mind; and then the spirit, or whatever your brother said it was, hit me. Next thing I know I'm here. I think I connected with you somehow when I reached out. I could see you and hear you asking me how you could save me."
"You know, when I saw you I didn't understand what was going on. It was the first time I had a vision that wasn't all in my head. I thought I'd finally snapped from the pain." Sam chuckled. "The headaches and visions can get pretty intense. Lately they've even knocked me out. But I saw you, standing in front of me and managed to catch some details before I dropped like a hot rock, and that's how we found you." He reached across the table and touched her cheek below the cut. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop you from being hurt."
"It's nothing compared to your back. Dean was really upset seeing how badly you were injured. I'm sorry. I try not to hear people's thoughts but I can't block strong emotions. What ran through his mind was awful."
Chapter 9
"What was it?" Sam asked about Dean and realized now that he hadn't slept at all last night.
"He saw someone kill you. Stabbed you in the back. He was devastated when you died in his arms. He blames himself for distracting you. He has nightmares." Kira said quietly.
"Does he have doubts about me?" Sam couldn't help but ask. "Is he afraid of me?"
"I didn't pick up on that. He's afraid for you, but he doesn't doubt you. Thoughts ran thought his mind of a man with scary eyes asking him how sure he was that you 'came back' 100 you. What did he mean by that?"
"I did die in Dean's arms. I lost time and when I woke up I was not where I was when I got stabbed. My wound was just an angry looking scar, a lot like I imagine it is now, and Dean wasn't there. He made a deal with a demon for me. His soul for my life. Our dad did the same thing for Dean last year. I have 51 weeks to find a way to save my brother." Sam said his eyes tearing up.
Kira had to admire Sam and his family. Most families would not give up thirty seconds for each other, let alone their lives and souls.
"Dean's back." Sam said, hearing the Impala pull in, as a clue to change the subject. Dean strode through the door with his arms full of food and a pharmacy bag sticking out of his jacket pocket.
"Hey, man." Sam said taking some stuff from Dean.
"Sit down and take it easy Sammy. I don't want you overdoing anything." Dean said with concern in his voice. "Eat something. Then I'll put ointment on your back."
"Thanks." Sam said surprised to find he had an appetite. Kira nodded and munched on a muffin quietly, letting the brothers talk.
"Listen, while you were sleeping, I did more research, and I think I know who our dear psycho was. It's still on the laptop if you want to see." Dean said stifling a yawn, between bites of his BLT. I think I need to catch some shut eye, before we kill this bastard." I need to be at the top of my game to keep you safe. Dean thought looking at Sam as he bit into an apple.
When they finished breakfast Dean put ointment on Sam's back, carefully avoiding the surprisingly few raw abrasions, and helped Sam put his shirt back on.
"All done Sammy. Now you smell like an old lady." Dean quipped, grinning, true laugh lines crinkling his eyes.
"Shut up." Sam said with a chuckle. "Get some sleep, jerk."
"Bitch."
It's been a long time since he smiled like that. It's good to see. Sam mused watching Dean stretch out and shield his eyes from the sunlight pouring through the dirty window. The whole time Kira watched the guys banter back and forth she marveled at their relationship. She had never had anyone like that in her life and found herself slightly jealous. Still foster care was better to her than a lot of other not so lucky children.
Dean was snoring softly, not five minutes after he dressed Sam's back and Kira and Sam were left in each other's company for the afternoon.
"How old are you, Kira?
"Just turned twenty-one. You?"
"Just turned twenty-four." Sam answered. "Where did you grow up?"
"Here in Chicago. Foster care. My mom died when I was a baby." That got Sam's attention.
"How?" He asked, swallowing hard.
"A fire."
"You are one of us," Sam confirmed, "but you're a different generation." The fire. Was it in your nursery, the night of your six month birthday?"
"How'd you know that?" Kira asked, paling.
"My mom died the same way. My nursery. The night of my six month birthday. It was a demon that killed her. Your mom too."
"Why?"
"Because it wanted us. Dean killed the son of a bitch last week. After the bastard that stabbed me helped it unleash an army of demons from the gates of hell."
"Why would a human help a demon like that?"
"Honestly, because he was scared, but part of him became evil too."
"That's what Dean is afraid will happen to you? Is he afraid you'll do something so save him and it will make you evil?"
"I don't know." Sam said, reaching for his laptop. He glanced at Dean on his bed when he rolled over and let out a sigh, sinking deeper into sleep.
Chapter 10
"Okay. Here's what Dean found out. Forty years ago a lowlife names Charles Gage was stalking women in this part of town, killing them with a bowie knife. Says here he killed two women in 1967. Then he made a mistake. He picked a police officer's wife to stalk as the third that year. She was volunteering at the local mission in the area, which was located in the building just down the block from where we first found you. Turns out the husband taught her some self defense moves. When he attacked her she fought him off, knocking him backwards into a pile of construction debris. He was impaled on a piece of pipe. She thought she killed him and ran back to the mission to call the police. By the time cops arrived the body was gone.
"Then in 1991, three people were killed in that same area. All three cases had the some m.o.; but in each case there were no witnesses and no evidence. Here it says, 'April of 1991. Charles Gage, a wanted serial killer in the late 1960's has turned up and was apprehended after killing his third victim this year. In 1967, Gage killed two women, but was supposedly killed himself by the would-be third victim. The body was gone when police arrived. Then in 1992, Gage's sentence was carried out. Death by lethal injection. Then nothing until last week. Gage's grave made the news. It was vandalized."
"That would be enough to wake the bastard's spirit. You were supposed to be the second victim this year but you got away. I'd be willing to bet we just pissed of the spirit of a psycho serial killer."
Kira gasped and paled, getting up. She walked to the window.
"What is it?" Sam asked.
"The grave was vandalized by the younger sister of the second victim from 1991, Sam. Me, he's after me…" Kira said barely above a whisper.
Sam walked up behind her and turned her to face him. "What were you thinking?"
"Definitely not about waking the bastard's spirit. I had just turned the same age my sister was when she died. I was depressed, angry. I don't know!" She said tears spilling from her eyes. "I didn't even know where my sister was. We were sent to separate foster homes."
"Come here." Sam said taking her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his middle, and he held her as tightly as his back would allow. He leaned with her against the heating/cooling unit that was built into the wall under the window. Slowly her sobs abated and her eyes closed against Sam's shoulder.
"I'm sorry. He's killing again because of me. He hurt you because of me."
"You couldn't have known."
Chapter 11
"Known what?" Dean asked sitting up in bed.
"We have a problem, Dean."
"Oh, geez. What?"
"Kira is the reason our psycho serial killer is back in action." Dean looked at Kira as two fat tears slid down her pale cheeks, making the bruised cut stand out far worse.
"Back in '91, Gage killed Kira's older sister. She was the second victim that year. When Gage got the death penalty, everyone kind of forgot. When Kira turned eighteen, she started looking for the sister she knew was out there somewhere. That's when she learned what Gage did."
Sam explained the whole situation to Dean.
"So you really are the reason my brother got hurt." Dean snarled angrily, causing Kira to cringe into Sam.
"Dean! Stop it!" Sam cried standing and pushing her behind him to shield her from Dean's wrath. "Don't be an ass. She didn't know the vandalism would wake the Bastard's spirit. She definitely didn't think he'd start killing again. She was upset and angry and what you're doing to her isn't right." Sam snapped, grabbing Dean by the collar of his gray flannel.
"Look, I'm sorry, but seeing you hurt like you are and knowing she's responsible… Sammy." Dean said, unable to finish the thought. Now Kira was really sobbing, huddled in the corner behind Sam.
"Don't apologize to me, Dean. Apologize to her." Sam said, lowering his voice and trying to regain composure. Damn. That outburst hurt more than I realized. Sam thought, feeling the color drain from his face and the strength seep from his limbs. Dean glanced at Kira, then back at Sam, startled at how pale he was.
Dean's "Sammy?!" Was all that reached his ears as the stained blue carpet rushed up to meet him.
"SAM… Sam!" Dean cried, barely catching his brother before his head hit the floor. Dean was so absorbed with Sam that he didn't notice Kira slip out the door. It took five minutes to haul his brother's unconscious butt to the bed.
"Dude, you need to shrink or something." Dean teased an out-cold Sammy, putting a hand to his forehead. No fever, no more trouble breathing than last time. What the hell happened? Noticing finally that Kira was too quiet; Dean glanced up to find the door open and Kira gone.
" Dammit, Dean. You really are a freakin' jerk."
Chapter 12
If what Sam said was true about Gage being after Kira , with revenge on his mind, Dean knew he had no time to waste. He used the laptop to hack into the Chicago Prison database and in five minutes time he had an address and plot number for where the freak was buried. He had to destroy that son of a bitch before he got Kira. Otherwise Dean would never be able to forgive himself for a decent girl's death. The thought made him sick.
"Gotcha." Scribbling a hasty note for Sam, after checking his pulse and temperature, Dean grabbed his leather jacket and bolted.
Sam woke up to a quiet room. He struggled to open his eyes and bring the room into focus. It was dark again.
"Dean?" The last thing Sam remembered was getting into a shouting match with his big brother after his cruel remark to a very upset Kira.
"Kira?" Sam willed his stomach to stop churning, but he had a very bad feeling. Sitting up he realized he was alone in the room. Seeing a note on the little worn stand the beds shared, Sam grabbed it. Dean's writing.
Got the bastard. Salt and burn time.
Kira ran off because I'm an ass.
I'll find her and save her.
Sorry, Sammy.
"Me, too, Dean." Sam said praying Dean would kill the spirit and get to Kira on time. Otherwise he would never forgive himself.
Dean pulled the Impala up to the gates of the prison cemetery. They were chained. Getting out and going to the trunk, he opened it and reached for an empty duffel bag. He soon filled it, putting in salt, lighter fluid, and spare cartridges for the shotgun that went in next. His newest Zippo was in his pocket. Finally he grabbed a shovel and bolt cutters and headed for the gate. Two minutes later he was through the gate and swapping bolt cutters for shotgun from the duffel, he reached into his pocket for the piece of paper and his flashlight.
"Plot 423a. Stone removed to be repaired." Shining his flashlight at each plot, he soon found the one he was looking for. Yatzee. Dean thought as he started digging.
Kira was back in the alley where she first encountered Gage. Tears streaked her face as she walked into the alcove. She could still see blood on the wall from the back of Sam's head, and the clean marks in the layer of grime where she had landed when Gage threw her.
"Come and get me, you son of a bitch! I just want to be with my sister since you took her from me before I could find her again." She screamed into the dark.
"You'll get your wish," rasped a dead voice from behind her. She turned to face the spirit of her sister's killer, more scared that she'd ever been in her life. Now she was truly alone.
"Come and get me, you son of a bitch!"
Sam was reeling. Kira was scared to death, and Sam had connected with her. Painfully. Both hands shot to his head as he psychically watched her get thrown around like a rag doll. He could feel every bone- jarring landing. She screamed and so did Sam. He felt the searing, white hot, pain as Gage's phantom knife sliced her shoulder deeply. He looked at his own through a haze, half expecting to see blood running down his arm; it hurt so bad. Sam dropped to his knees in the motel room. Squeezing his eyes closed and gripping his head, he thought, Hurry Dean. She's out of time.
The vision took over.
Dean finally reached the coffin lid and used the shovel to break through. He had a strong feeling time was up. Dousing the skeleton with lighter fluid, he poured on the salt. Flicking the Zippo, he tossed it in the hole.
"Bye, bye. Bitch." Flames jumped, coloring the night sky.
Chapter 13
Kira was knocked for a loop. Her shoulder was bleeding and she was so tired. Worst of all she could 'feel" Sam suffering right along with her in her head. She tried to cut him off, but couldn't. I'm sorry. She thought an apology and prayed he heard it as the serial killer advanced on her. Gage's shadowy from was within inches of her. Phantom knife poised for the kill. Kira curled up, prepared for her fate, when an inhuman shriek erupted from Gage. He disintegrated into a flash of flame and ash. Smoke gagging Kira into unconsciousness.
Dean's cell suddenly rang. "Yeah."
"Dean!" Sam said breathlessly. "You did it. I saw it. You saved Kira."
"Whoa, Sammy. What? Where are you?"
"In the room. Vision. I saw her. She's in the alley again. Dean, you gotta get to her. She's hurt."
Sam connected with her again. "Sammy, are you okay?"
"I managed it this time, Dean. Please hurry. Let me know if she's okay." Click.
Dean grabbed his stuff and rushed to the Impala. Speeding along the road to the alley, he got to her in about eight minutes. Out of the car, he was at her side in seconds.
"Kira… Kira. Hey, come on." He pleaded, cradling her to his chest and using his handkerchief to stem the flow of blood from her wounded shoulder.
"Mmmm… Dean?" Kira murmured, looking up into his face.
"It's okay. You're okay." Dean said, helping her sit up. "You are alright?"
Tears again slid down her dirty face, creating two clean paths in their wake.
"I'm sorry, Dean. I think I hurt Sam again. I felt him connect with me. I couldn't block him out. I tried." She choked on a sob.
Dean hugged her as he helped her to unsteady feet. "I talked to him. Sammy's okay. He told me where you were. C'mon, He wants to see you."
Sam was outside the motel room as soon as he heard the roar of the Impala's engine. Kira rushed into his arms before Dean even shut off the car. Squeezing him tight, just below the line of bruises, Sam stifled a groan and hugged her back. Over her head, he met Dean's grass green eyes with his shining hazel ones.
Thank you. He mouthed. I'm sorry.
Me, too. Dean mouthed back.
Three days later, after an exchange of phone numbers, a kiss on the cheek for Sam and a tight hug for Dean, Kira was on her way to stay with an Aunt they had located for her. One she didn't know existed. The guys got back in the Impala, and Dean fired the engine. He glanced at Sam, and Sam returned the look, both smiling as the stereo came on. With a squeal of tires and Bad Company's Movin' On playing loudly the boys moved on to the next town and the next hunt.