Memory of His Last Breath
Disclaimer: The boys are Kripke's, but the story's all mine.
A/N: Takes place after Waiting for the Rain to Fall.
Sam awoke to a low, pain filled groan. He opened his eyes and turned his head in time to see Dean bolt upright in bed breathing harshly, his hands clutching his chest. Sam would have feigned sleep to allow Dean's dignity to remain in place, if not for his brother's hands. It took Sam no more than a second to jump out of his bed and sit perched on Dean's.
"Dean-"
"I'm fine Sam, just a dream." Dean wiped one hand over his sweat soaked face as he fought to slow his breathing. His other hand was still on his chest.
With more than a touch of concern in his voice, Sam asked "Are you hurting?"
"What? No, I told you I'm fine. I'm…I'm just gonna head to the bathroom." Dean clumsily tossed the blankets aside, and staggered his way out of the room.
Unsure of what he should do next, Sam returned to his bed. He was amazed Dean was even able to function these days. It seemed his sleep was interrupted most if not every night.
The boys had been staying at Bobby's for a few weeks now, steadfastly working to figure out what had happened to Dean. As of yet, they have come up with nothing. As far as Sam and Bobby knew, Dean had died and went to Hell a few months ago. Then one day, there he was, outside of Sam's motel door. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Dean had no clue that he had died. Dean had no memory whatsoever pertaining to what may or may not have happened during his absence.
Sam suspected that these nightmares were tied to his forgotten memories. But would Dean talk to him about them? Of course not. Sam was expected to ignore the nightmares and watch his brother suffer in his silence.
Which is kinda what he'd been doing. He asked questions on occasion but didn't push Dean for answers. Truth is, he was afraid Dean might remember dying…and what came after. Sam knows Dean is a strong person, but remembering Hell? That just may be too much. He would much rather have Bobby and himself come upon some explanation, without Dean recovering his memories. Of course, Bobby would then expect him to tell Dean about his death.
After awhile, Dean returned to the room. Without a glance at Sam, he climbed into his bed, turning his back towards his brother. He hoped to make his intent clear that there would be no midnight confessions regarding his nightmare. Not that there was anything he could say, the images from the dream were lost upon waking. He closed his eyes and prayed for a soft, dark, and dreamless sleep, knowing there was a snowball's chance in Hell of that happening. He listened as Sam shifted back under his covers.
Sam let him get away with too much these days. Before he…well, disappeared, his brother would have grilled him all night if he had to, just to get any tidbit of information he could about his dreams. Now, he makes a half-hearted effort, then backs down. Dean welcomed the change in his brother at a time like this, but part of him saw it as proof that something was wrong.
SPNSPNSPN
The usual morning sounds of Bobby preparing breakfast woke both Sam and Dean. The delicious aromas of coffee and omelets greeted the boys as soon as they entered the kitchen.
"Mornin' Bobby. Anything I can help with?" Sam asked.
"Nope. You boys just sit and enjoy your breakfast, before you have to clean-up." Bobby smiled as he plated the food and brought it to the table.
Dean filled a mug with coffee and joined his brother and Bobby at the table. "Ugh, clean-up duty again."
"Dean, any time you wanna get up early and make breakfast, I'll do the cleanin' up." Bobby replied as he passed the salt shaker to Dean. He couldn't help but notice the dark circles that were under his friend's eyes. A testament to another restless night.
"So, an old friend of mine called me earlier this morning. He wanted to know if I was interested in a job that he's come across. He'd do it himself only he's smack dab in the middle of dealing with a stubborn vengeful spirit. I was thinking you boys might be interested if only to take a break from our research."
Dean gave a hearty "Hell, yeah!" at the same time as Sam's "No!"
Sam shot his brother an exasperated look, "Dean, we're already working a job - your's!"
"Come on, Sammy. It's been ages since we've had any fun. What will we be dealing with Bobby?"
After shifting his ball cap on his head, Bobby stated, "Here's all that info he had, and it ain't much: There have been three deaths in the past month in Nelson, Indiana. Official cause of death is exsanguination."
Dean snorted, "Vampires? See Sammy, fun!"
"One more thing," Bobby continued, "no physical trauma to the bodies."
Sam turned imploring eyes on his brother, "Look, it sounds interesting and all, but Dean we're busy now. Let someone else handle it for once."
"For once? Sam, we've been sitting on our asses for far too long with nothing to show for it. We are no closer to finding out what happened to me today than we were three weeks ago."
"Dean-"
Dean continued over Sam, "It's just one case. We could probably have the evil sonofabitch put down in no time."
"Dean," Sam raised his voice, trying in vain to get his brother to see reason. "We need to remain focused on you and-"
"Damn it, Sam-"
"That's enough you two!" Bobby stared down each brother in turn, just daring them to pick up the argument. When it was clear that they were done, Bobby resumed eating his omelet. To defuse the situation, he added, "Besides, I slaved over a hot stove to provide you with a nice warm breakfast and I expect it to be eaten before it gets too cold. You can continue fussin' later."
"Sorry, Bobby." Dean and Sam replied simultaneously.
In spite of Bobby's attempt, the tense silence in the kitchen wasn't broken until the clean-up was complete. Dean put the dish towel on the counter, then walked out the back door.
"Sam-"
"Bobby, I don't want to hear it right now. I don't think we should do the job." Sam lowered his voice and glanced at the back door. "I…I don't know if he's ready."
"Ready? What are you talkin' about?" Bobby truly looked surprised by Sam's confession.
"Come on, I know you know he hasn't been sleeping well. All of this…it's eating at him. And it's not like we have found any answers for his…reappearance." Sam guiltily lowered his eyes to the table.
"But this job may be just what he needs. A chance to feel like he's in control of something. And besides, you know how restless he gets. This could be good for the both of you. If needed, I could pitch in, too." Bobby rose from his seat at the table and turned to leave, "Just think about it, Sam."
After a beat, Sam sighed, "So…there have been three deaths?" Bobby smiled to himself, it looked like Dean would be getting what he wanted.
SPNSPNSPN
Later that afternoon, Sam and Dean were pouring over the limited information they had collected online about the deaths in Nelson, Indiana.
Bobby walked into the living room. He watched the brothers silently for a few moments. He had missed seeing them puzzling over cases with their boyish enthusiasm. As he sat next to Sam, he said, "Okay, boys. Nutshell it for me."
Sam began, "We don't have much more than you gave us. As you said, there have been three deaths: one woman, two men. All have died at some time during the night. One was working late, two were at home. The official cause of death for each of them is exsanguination but with no physical trauma."
"As far as the newspaper articles have stated, none of the victims had anything in common and there weren't any reliable witnesses," Dean finished.
"Any theories on what did it?"
"My first thought was a vampire, but they definitely leave their mark. As for what else it could be, there are too many possibilities." Dean glanced over at Sam, silently asking him for his thoughts, seeing if he was invested in this hunt yet.
"We need more information than what we have right now. So…I guess we hit the road." Dean's grin stretched from ear to ear at Sam's words. They would be having some fun after all.
SPNSPNSPN
Both sides of Main Street in the picturesque town of Nelson were lined with charming stores and eateries. A row of old-fashioned lampposts ran the length of the bricked sidewalk. It seemed to be the kind of town that was small enough for everyone to know everybody. It was just around lunchtime when the Impala pulled into a parking spot in front of the Sunnyside Cafe.
Gazing out the car window, Dean uttered with disgust, "It looks like one of those cutesy towns."
"Suck it up, Dean," Sam smiled at his brother's obvious discontent as they climbed out of the car.
"You know I hate these kinds of towns. They're just…creepy." Dean punctuated his sentence with an exaggerated shudder. "Can't you just picture the schools filled with Stepford children, the homes filled with Stepford wives? It's enough to make my skin crawl."
Sam was still laughing at his brother's melodramatic behavior as they entered the café. Not appreciating being the source of Sam's amusement, Dean turned quickly to cuff Sam on the back of the head, but instead bumped into an elderly woman. Only his quick reflexes kept her from falling to the floor.
Red faced, he quickly apologized, "I'm so sorry, Ma'am."
"It's quite alright, young man. No harm done. You have a nice day," the woman smiled cheerfully as she walked out the door.
Sam burst into laughter again as they sat in a booth towards the back of the restaurant. "You should have seen the look on your face when you trampled that sweet old lady."
"I didn't trample anybody," Dean grumbled.
A middle-aged blonde approached their table, "Hi, I'm Cindy and I'll be your waitress. What can I get you fellas?"
"I'll have the lunch special and a coke," Dean ordered.
"Make that two, please," added Sam. As soon as the waitress left, he asked, "Where do you want to start?"
"Let's interview the surviving relatives, see if we can find a connection the cops missed." Dean replied. "But first thing after lunch, we need to find a hotel."
"Sounds like a plan."
SPNSPNSPN
After checking into the Ashling Motel, the brothers put on their suits and headed to the home of the first victim, Charlie Lassiter. Mrs. Lassiter opened the door to them shortly after they explained they were with her husband's life insurance company.
Sam began gently, "Mrs. Lassiter, we are sorry for your loss. We have just a few questions then we'll be on our way. Were you home the night your husband died?"
"Yes, but I had already gone to bed. He…," Mrs. Lassiter broke off to dry her eyes with a tissue. "He wanted to stay up to watch some late night show. I f-found him the next morning."
"Did you hear or see anything unusual that night?" Dean asked.
"No, nothing." Mrs. Lassiter reached for another tissue.
Sam continued, "What about the days prior to his death?"
"There wasn't anything unusual that night or earlier. Nothing at all."
SPNSPNSPN
"Well, that was a waste of a perfectly good afternoon." Dean threw the room key onto the table with one hand and loosened his tie with his other hand.
Sam closed the motel room door. Like his brother, he was frustrated with the lack of clues in this case. After visiting Mrs. Lassiter, they went to see the second and third victims' spouses. Neither one knew of anything unusual. Furthermore, there still wasn't anything connecting the victims to each other, except for the fact they lived in the same town.
Dean was digging around in his duffel for a change of clothes. "I get dibs on the shower," he called.
"It's all your's. I'm going to run out for some food. How does pizza sound?" Sam asked.
"Great, I'm starving. Don't be gone long." Dean tossed the car keys to him and turned for the bathroom.
Less than fifteen minutes later, Dean was washed and dressed, sitting on a bed, searching for a decent program to watch on TV. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of golden orange light under the motel room door.
As he stood for a closer inspection, a ball of fire came through the crack under the door. Before he could make a move to defend himself, the orb enveloped him. Dean tried to push it away, but it was as useless as pushing back air. His mind tried to make sense out of what was happening. The ball of fire wasn't even hot and seemed harmless until he felt teeth pierce his neck. Through the sharp agonizing pain, he fought to keep his eyes open, but in the end his eyes slid closed as he gave in to the darkness.
SPNSPNSPN
Sam balanced the pizza and beer in one hand, while he unlocked the room door with his other. As he walked through the doorway, his eyes immediately shot to the strange ball of fire that surrounded his brother. Without a second thought, he dropped everything to the floor as he grabbed the rock-salt loaded shotgun that was always kept near the door.
After trying, and failing, to line up a shot that wouldn't hurt Dean, Sam took his chances and opened fire. The rock-salt would hurt but not kill his brother. As soon as it was hit, the ball of fire shrieked and flew out the open door. Dean collapsed to the rug unconscious.
Sam quickly knelt by his brother's side to check for a pulse. Once he found it beating strong and steady, he sighed with relief and examined Dean for wounds. His shirt was in one piece, so the rock-salt must not have cut him but he would most likely be sore for a few days. Then as soon as he found twin puncture wounds aside Dean's neck, Sam watched in shock as they closed without leaving a mark.
"Hey, Dean - Dean wake up." Sam shook his brother gently.
"Not now, m'tired." Dean tried to roll away from Sam's insistent shaking.
"Come on, open your eyes for me." Hearing the worry barely covering the panic in Sam's voice convinced Dean he'd better do as he was told. His eyes found Sam's as he heard, "Dean, are you okay?"
"Just peachy. Help me up." Sam slid his arm beneath Dean's shoulders to assist him into a sitting position.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
Dean stared quizzically at his brother. "Did you just shoot me?"
"If you're really okay we need to pack now, talk later. I just fired a shotgun and would like to be outta here before the cops come." Sam began gathering everything and shoving it all into the duffel bags.
Dean groaned and rubbed his aching chest as he stood up. "You did shoot me!" Seeing that he wasn't going to get an explanation now, he took one of the bags from Sam to help him pack. Within minutes, the boys were in the car and headed to another motel.
SPNSPNSPN
Once settled into the Nelson Motor Lodge, Sam had fired up his laptop and went into research mode. Still feeling a bit fatigued after the attack, Dean stretched out on the bed nearest the door, and within minutes was fast asleep.
"I've got it!"
Dean was startled awake by his brother's triumphant cry. He gingerly climbed to his feet and joined his brother at the small table. "What the hell are we dealing with?"
"A soucouyant. According to the lore it appears as an old woman who sheds her skin at night. She flies through the air, usually appearing as a ball of fire and sucks the blood from her victims without leaving a mark. Apparently, she secretes some sort of fluid that closes the bite wounds when she's finished." Smiling to himself after seeing Dean's look of disgust, Sam continued, "She is also able to gain access to a room through any small opening, even a keyhole."
"That explains my bite marks disappearing. And how she came through the crack under the door. Did you find a way to kill her?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, it seems simple really. You need to sprinkle her empty skin with hot pepper. When she crawls back in at sunrise, she burns to death."
Dean raised his eyebrows, "Hot pepper? You're kidding, right?"
"No, that's what's in the lore." Sam's brow wrinkled in thought, "I wonder if we could use a summoning spell to make her return to her skin before morning?"
"I sure as hell hope so. I don't want to wait for her to finish chowing down on someone before we can off her. Is there any way to determine who she is while she's in her skin?"
"Not that I can find. One site mentions the soucouyant usually lives on the outskirts of town. Even if that is true, it may be difficult to find her."
"Maybe, maybe not." Dean replied cryptically with a mischievous grin on his face.
"What do you have in mind?" Sam watched his brother's grin grow wider. "Wh-? No Dean, we are not going to round up all the female senior citizens and sprinkle them with pepper then wait to see which one bursts into flames in the morning."
Dean laughed, "You know me too well Sammy." He then frowned and cocked his head to the side. "But yeah, I see your point. That would take a lot of pepper." Sam rolled his eyes. "But all kidding aside, we could use a town map and plot out the locations of each death. It may help us pinpoint the location of the soucouyant."
"I can get the town map online. Hand me the list of addresses." Sam worked in silence for a few moments. "Okay, this is what it looks like with markings for each of the places where the victims were found dead."
"They are near the edge of town. Can you find out how many houses are out that far?"
"I can look up the land records and find out if any older women live out that way, but it's gonna take some time." Sam stretched and yawned. "Why don't we call it a night and start early tomorrow."
Both boys settled into their beds. Dean waited until Sam's even breaths signaled he was in a deep sleep. Then he made his way to the laptop on the table and took it upon himself to search the land records. In truth, he was too keyed up, too close to finishing this hunt, to be able to sleep. And it's not like he'd be getting a good rest anyway. He was at the point where he had forgotten was a good night's rest felt like. So he figured this would be a better use of his time.
He was able to narrow the possible locations down to a two block area where, luckily, the houses were few and far between. Most were owned by young families or middle age couples, only one was owned by an elderly woman, Mable Spencer. And it turns out she purchased the property a little over a month ago, right before the first death.
"Yahtzee! And here college boy thought he was the only one who knew his way around the computer." He glanced at his watch and saw it was already after seven in the morning. Damn, we can't do anything until tonight. Today is going to be one hell of a long day.
SPNSPNSPN
Finally, night had fallen and the Impala was parked a short distance down the street from Mable Spencer's house. Her ranch style house sat away from her neighbors and was backed up to a wooded lot. From their position, the brothers had a good view of the front, right side, and a little bit of the backyard of the house. They hoped her interrupted meal last night would prompt her to make a move tonight. With an incantation to summon the soucouyant, shotguns and hot pepper, Sam and Dean were as ready as they would ever be.
It was shortly after one, when both brothers finally saw what they were waiting for: a ball of fire left the house and disappeared into the woods.
"That's our cue. Let's make this quick before she gets a chance to do some damage." Dean led the way across the yard to the front steps. Without wasting a second, he kicked in the front door.
Sam sighed, "Did it ever occur to you to try the knob?"
Dean grinned, "What? And waste a perfectly good excuse to kick something?"
"You're unbelievable."
"That's what I keep telling you, Sammy!"
After clicking on their flashlights, the brothers walked cautiously through the doorway. At first glance, Mable's home appeared no different than any other. Decent furniture, knick-knacks on every available surface, and pictures of loved ones on the walls. It was while Dean was looking at one of the pictures that he realized he had seen the woman before.
"Sam, recognize her?" With a knowing smirk, Dean pointed out the woman in question.
Sam raised his eyebrows in shock. "The woman you trampled in the diner!"
"Hey, I didn't-"
But Sam cut him off. "That's how she found us so quickly. She made us as soon as she saw us."
"Come on, we have a skin to find," Dean turned away from the pictures to resume searching.
After they made sure the living room was clear, they scanned the rest of the rooms on the first floor. Both brothers then headed for the basement stairs. Once downstairs, Dean grabbed the pull cord and light flooded the basement. There were boxes stacked along the wall to their right and straight ahead. A washer and dryer was to the left.
Dean sighed, "If you were a skin, where would you be?"
"Funny. She probably uses the same hiding spot each time so look for boxes that aren't so dusty." Sam was scanning the boxes closest to him as he spoke.
Dean was looking through some of the boxes toward the back when he heard Sam call out, "It's here, in this old wooden chest."
Walking over to Sam, Dean peered into the chest, "Well, that's just gross." The skin had the appearance of an old latex Halloween mask. It was folded many times in order to fit into the small space.
Sam pulled out the bottle of hot pepper and sprinkled the skin liberally. He stepped back a few feet, pulled out the summoning spell and glanced at his brother. Dean raised the shotgun he was carrying and gave an almost imperceptible nod to Sam.
Taking his cue, Sam began, "Nos dico vos continuo huic vicis quod locus. Reverto ut vestri tergum per festinatio."
"Sam, down!" Dean fired at the ball of fire that materialized behind his brother. It screeched deafeningly before it flickered then faded out. Sam moved further away from the skin in the wooden chest and continued.
"Is dico vos can non ignarus. Repleo is tergum vulnero alius haud magis." The soucouyant reappeared next to the chest. Dean kept the gun trained on it as both brothers watched as trails of fire seemed to be pulled toward the skin.
"Quondam in pars vos ero irretitus. Quod solvo is universitas of vestri ira," Sam finished the incantation. But before succumbing to the pull, the fire ball shot towards Sam and knocked him to the floor. Just as it began to envelope him, he heard a shotgun blast. The soucouyant shrieked again as her hold on Sam was broken and she was pulled for the final time into her skin.
"Sammy!"
"I'm okay, Dean." Sam grabbed Dean's offered hand and was promptly hauled to his feet. A hissing sound from the wooden chest drew both brothers near. As they peered inside, the skin withered and began to blister. A sudden burst of flames caused both of them to jump back a few steps.
"Think that's it?" Dean cautiously examined the small pile of ash left in the chest.
"Yeah, she's gone." Sam smiled. "Let's get out of here."
SPNSPNSPN
The darkness swirled like a fog in front of his eyes. His heart pounded as he struggled for breath. Then Ruby was there, but she wasn't Ruby. Then his chest, oh god, razor sharp claws tore his skin to shreds and bathed him in his own blood. He couldn't hold back the agonized scream that ruptured from his throat.
As he became aware of his surroundings and Sam hovering just inches away, Dean realized he had been awaken by his own scream. And this time, he remembered his dream. Or more importantly, he realized what the dream had been all along - part of his missing memories. As the last moments replayed themselves like a movie in his mind, he witnessed the memory of his last breath. Still struggling to regain control of his breathing through the mix of emotions coursing through him, he couldn't do much more than turn accusing eyes on his brother. This was it, this was what Sam had been keeping from him.
"You knew." Dean's voice was no more than a hoarse whisper, yet Sam could still hear the hurt and betrayal his brother felt.
With tears in his eyes, Sam began, "Dean-"
"How could you not tell me? Didn't you think I might want to know that I died?" Dean's voice raised in volume with each word.
Sam turned pleading eyes on his brother, "Bobby and I wanted to figure out how you came back before-" The second the words were out of his mouth, he knew he screwed up.
"Bobby knew too! What the hell, Sam?" Dean pushed Sam to the side and climbed out of his bed. But once out of bed, he didn't know what to do with himself. So, he paced the length of the motel room.
Seeing his brother so uncharacteristically lost and distressed, Sam tried to explain again. "When you appeared after a few months, Bobby and I weren't sure what to do. I asked him not to tell you, at least not until we knew who or what brought you back. But even after all our research, we still have no idea."
"So, what? You figured you never had to tell me? You were just going to wait until I was blind-sided by some damn memory? Shit, was I in hell?" Dean's face paled as he seemed to list to the side. He grabbed the back of a nearby chair to steady himself.
"Dean," Sam jumped up hurriedly, "sit for a minute, please. This must be a lot to take in right now."
"Ya think?" But instead of sitting, Dean picked up his clothes from earlier and hastily put them back on. When he picked up his keys, Sam moved to block the door.
"Where are you going?"
"Out. I can't…I want…just need to think." Dean's voice trembled brokenly. His urgent need to flee, to find enough air to breathe, drowned out all reason.
"Dean, don't." Sam whispered.
"Sam." The despair in Dean's eyes silently pleaded with Sam to just let him go.
Knowing he could no longer deny Dean his escape, Sam moved away from the door. He caught one last glimpse of his shattered brother just before the door closed. Frozen in his guilt and grief, Sam stood alone in the motel room, tears falling silently unchecked.