IDENTITY CRISIS
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or the characters, I'm just borrowing them for a little while!
Summary: After a car accident on winter roads, Dean finds himself confused and drawn to a strange castle in the forest where an age old fatal mystery waits for him. Now Sam is in a race against time to find his injured brother and save him from a horrific end in a game that nobody has ever survived.
A/N: Well, here's one idea for a story, I have another story started, which I will possibly post up within the next few weeks, or I may wait until I complete this one to post the other. Until I decide what to do with my other story, enjoy this one and don't forget to let me know what you think!
CHAPTER 1
At the base of a mountain, an old castle stands. It is worn with age, but still in its prime. Within its walls, a deadly secret waits for its next victim, watching the forest, looking for fresh blood to enter into the twisted world that has the building trapped.
In the top-most window a young woman sits, watching, waiting, humming. Her face is pale and her hair is dark, falling past her shoulders while her harsh grey eyes shimmer in the light cast by the moon. She smiles and pulls her hair in front of her shoulder, braiding it idly. Someone will come. Someone always does and someone always plays her game until she strikes back, killing the victim, without a moment of hesitation. It's what she does. It's her duty.
In the courtyard below, a man sits on the edge of the fountain, handling a silver sword with great affection. He runs an adoring hand over the glinting blade, and fingers the handle with a gentle touch. He's ready to play his part, he's taking the stage, props in hand, heart hammering excitedly in his chest. He can smell blood in the air, fresh blood, just waiting to be spilled.
The woman in the window watches him, she runs her tongue over her lips and chuckles to herself, yes, someone is coming, she can feel it. She slides menacingly from the window ledge and walks across the floor, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The cold moon slithers through the window to stretch across the floor, following her as she goes. She vanishes into the shadows. Below, the courtyard is empty, the fountain gurgles pleasantly, laughing at the night while snow began to fall lightly.
A sheen of snow covered the road as the Impala started to fishtail in the slush. Dean cursed and jerked the wheel, trying desperately to get the car to behave. In the passenger seat Sam's eyes were wide as he clung to the dashboard, not knowing what to expect.
"Sammy, hang on!" Dean shouted as he lost all control of the car. The Impala groaned and struck the dip at the edge of the road.
"Damn it!" Dean shouted as the car flipped and became airborne, throwing the brothers harshly against the windows.
The Impala skipped a snow bank and flew into a thick grove of trees sending both the brothers into complete and total darkness that had nothing to do with the black night around them. The snow fell faster, quilting over the underside of the now-silent Impala, while inside neither passenger moved.
Dean winced as a chill racked through his body, followed by another, then another and before he knew it he was caught in the middle of an all-out fit of shivering that wouldn't subside. He groaned as he realized that every part of his body hurt and it was near impossible to move. He looked blearily around, slamming his eyes shut against the dizziness that overtook him and his mind was hazed with confusion.
He found himself slithering out the shattered front windshield of the Impala and collapsing in a heap in the drifted snow that turned crimson from the blood that flowed from his head injury. He choked back nausea and struggled to his hands and knees, looking around the dark forest that was trapped in the middle of a raging blizzard. He squinted through the trees and saw a soft yellow light shining through the falling snow. He was drawn toward it, pulling himself weakly along through the drifted snow, his body shaking from the cold. Then he stopped. He felt that there was something that he should do, something was missing, but he could not wrap his mind around what it was, he couldn't even wrap his mind around his own name. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the haziness, but was unable to do so.
An awful moaning sound surrounded him and he looked wildly around, only to see a bright yellow streak of light rush at him from the trees. Within the streak of a light, a face screamed and shot toward the oldest Winchester, twirling threateningly around him and driving into his back. It lifted him to his feet and gave him a bout of strength that was quickly used to run blindly through the trees, ignoring the branches when they whipped him in the face, causing angry red scratches and scrapes to appear on his winter-chilled cheeks.
He ran until his strength left him and he collapsed in the snow, panting and choking back bile that was rising in his throat. He lifted his head, dark blood running into his eyes from the open wound on his forehead and he was greeted by the sight of a large, aged castle watching him blankly.
The door slowly opened and Dean struggled toward it, it was dry and hopefully warm and at the moment that was all that mattered to him. He staggered to his feet and stumbled through the doors, only to fall flat once he got inside. The door slammed behind him and his eyes dropped closed and did not open again.
"Dean?" Sam spoke weakly, his voice was raspy and soft and could barely be heard amidst the raging wind outside the crippled Impala.
Sam forced his heavy eyes to open and gaze dazedly around the car's snow-covered interior. Dean was going to have a fit when he saw how much damage the Impala had sustained. Sam looked around again, where was Dean? There was no sign of his older brother, and in the dark there was no visible indication that another person had even been in the car.
"Dean?" Sam called again, reaching for his seatbelt, only to find that it had snapped and he had been thrown in a heap against the roof, which had now become the floor of the car. He reached over to the driver's side and his bare fingers brushed against another broken seatbelt, his brother's. But his hand did not touch the other man that should have been present.
"Dean!" Sam called again, hoping that his voice would carry above the howling wind and reach his brother's ears. It didn't.
With an uncomfortable groan, Sam crept out through the broken windshield and staggered to his feet, grabbing for the car when his balance faltered. The snow reached past his knees and it was close to midnight on a late December evening. His breath fogged in the air and rose towards the sky as he rubbed his hands together ferociously in an attempt to banish the burning numbness that was seeping into his fingertips. He shoved his hands in his pockets and scanned the area for signs of his brother. If Dean had left a trail, the snow had covered it by now and left Sam without a lead to follow.
"Dean!" Sam tried again. His voice was lost amidst the howling wind as it passed through the trees.
