Sam finished stuffing the last of his things into a duffle, and left the cheap motel room to check out at the front desk, alone this time. Several days ago, Bobby had called the boys saying that he'd caught wind of some minor trouble from an old friend—and non-hunter—of his. A poltergeist, he'd said, just the matter of a simple cleansing ritual.
At the time, the Winchester brothers had been in the middle of a case. After a long discussion, Dean had finally reluctantly agreed to let Sam take the two-day drive to take care of the poltergeist, alone, leaving Dean to finish off the werewolf they were hunting.
"It's a friend of Bobby's," Sam had said, "And it shouldn't take anymore than a few days, a week at most."
After a few days, Sam had easily taken care of the problem and was now heading out to the borrowed—okay fine, stolen—car to head back to Dean.
But as soon as he'd stepped out into the night, the hair on the back of his neck had risen and his hunter's senses were immediately alert. He couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly, but something was wrong. He quickly scanned the area, but it was dark and he couldn't see much. Cautiously, he made his way over to the car.
"Tik tok."
Sam froze, his hand halfway to the door handle. Slowly, he drew his gun and dropped his duffle to the ground, turning in a slow circle as he searched for the source of the voice.
"Tik tok."
In an odd way, the voice was quite soothing, even in those two short words. But at the same time Sam could sense malevolence there. It was maliciously gleeful, like a child about to rip the ear off of a puppy.
"Tik tok."
Sam's eyes began to droop.
"Tik tok."
The gun in his hand suddenly felt very heavy, and he began to let his arm drop without even thinking about it.
"Tik tok."
His knees began to buckle. A nap sounded really nice.
"Tik tok."
He could just sit down right here and go to sleep. He could go find Dean in the morning.
"Tik tok."
Suddenly Sam was on the ground, propped against the car. His chin dropped to his chest and his gun rested in limp fingers. Yeah, a nap would be good.
"Tik tok."
He was just so tired.
"Tik tok."
His eyes slid shut.
It was when he felt the clawed hand on his shoulder that Sam's eyes snapped open again. Fighting hard against the ineffable desire to sleep, he raised his head—and looked straight into the eyes of a monster.
Its eyes were red, its skin decaying and discolored. Its fingers were long and clawed, and when it grinned at him Sam could see hundreds of needle-like teeth. "Tik tok," it soothed.
With a strangled grunt, Sam threw his head back, fighting the fresh wave of sleepy exhaustion. Clumsy fingers fumbled for the gun in his lap just as the creature leaned forward and took a bite out of his shoulder.
Sam cried out, but the pain gave him a jolt of energy and strength. He finally managed to close his fingers around the gun. Lifting his arm, he shoved the barrel into the creature's ribs and pulled the trigger.
With a loud screech, the thing fell back, kicking Sam in the chest in the process. Sam wheezed painfully and tried to get to his feet, using the car for support. He blindly fired another shot, and judging by another inhuman shriek he must have hit it somewhere.
Once he was on his feet—albeit unsteadily—he turned to fire again. The creature growled, lifted its hand and hurled something at Sam's face.
Sam instinctively turned away, raising a protective arm—but it was too late. He could feel something small and gritty—sand?—painfully stinging his eyes. Before he knew it, his knees were giving out and he was sprawled on the cold, hard asphalt. He couldn't keep his eyes open anymore and he was dragged into the darkness of deep sleep.
No one saw the hideous creature limping back into the shadows.
TBC
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