I finally decided to dust off this fic. First I want to say thank you everyone who read this story years ago when I first posted and thank you to everyone who is reading now. This is a revised version that doesn't differ much in content, but has a few improvements in grammar, description, etc.
I have spent a criminal amount of time ignoring this fic, but that ends now. I'm not going to make any outlandish promises about having the second chapter up by next week, but I will let you all know that I'm working on the next entry as you read this line (if you're reading it on 8-5-16).
Happy reading and let me know what you think (even if you hate it).
Dean casually leaned against the brick wall of the diner while his brother sat on the hood of the Impala and searched the newspaper for potential hunts.
"There've been a lot of cancer outbreaks; locals are scared it might be something in the water."
"Not really our kind of problem."
Sam quickly scanned the next page. "A few people have gone missing lately. 'Recent disappearances of local college students suggests-'"
"Just give me the Cliff Notes version, okay?" Dean interrupted.
"Several people have disappeared in the last few months," Sam began, "Some of their bodies have been found with 'unspecified injuries.'"
"So either they were mangled beyond recognition or the cops don't know what the heck happened to those people and they don't want anyone else to find out before they do." Dean guessed. "What else does it say?"
Sam shrugged and laid paper down beside him. "Nothing."
"Well you know the drill," Dean looked pointedly at a bar down the street. "If we're going to stop whatever's killing these college students we should start by checking with the locals."
Sam lips turned up in a small grin as he read the sign above the bar. " 'Holy Water'. That's definitely-"
He noticed someone sitting on the curb. A few pedestrians walked up and down the sidewalk, but a lithe form of a woman who looked several years older than Sam remained hunched over. She clasped her hands tightly together and then forced them to separate as though she were distressed, but trying not to show it. Dean chuckled behind him. "I saw you checking her out, Sam."
"No I wasn't."
"Yeah, whatever." Dean smirked, "I'm glad; I was starting to get worried about you. I think it's about time you got laid."
"Dean!" Sam's eyes widened in horror; he hoped the woman hadn't heard his brother's crude remarks. Although, now that Dean had mentioned it, she was really pretty.
Dean laughed again and headed toward the bar. "Catch you later."
Sam shyly approached the woman on the sidewalk, but she didn't even look up until he spoke. "Hey, I um, I couldn't help but notice…" Sam cursed himself for getting so nervous; she was just a girl. Albeit a very attractive one with a sheet of satiny, black hair and warm, honey colored skin. Sam caught himself as his gaze began to go lower. He felt his cheeks grow warm. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
A pair of chocolate eyes glistening with unshed tears looked up at him. "Yes." She answered with a distinctly Hispanic accent. "I would say 'I'm sure you don't want to hear about it' but," she gestured at Sam. "I guess you do."
Sam sat down on the curb. He was very careful not to sit too close; he didn't want to give Dean any more ideas.
"My sister is very sick." She said, "And the clinic, where I work, is going to be closed down if we don't get some more business." She started off into the distance for a moment before speaking again. "Without my job, I'll never be able to pay for her surgery." She sighed then turned to Sam with a sad smile. "I bet you wish you never asked."
He self-consciously pushed his hands into his jacket pockets. Distantly, Sam heard a motor running.
"No…I kind of know what you're going through." He wished he could tell her that when you led a life of hunting down monsters, uncertainty was the only thing you could count on, and he knew what it was like to worry about your family. "My name's Sam." He added.
"Well Sam, thanks for listening to my sob story." She smiled, "I'm Tara."
A blue pick-up rounded the corner and flew toward Sam and Tara. In seconds that seemed like eternity, Sam found himself flying through the air and landing on the rough cement of the sidewalk. Tara's corpse was several feet away; her crushed remains lay near the gutter. Something wet and sticky dripped from Sam's mouth before his sight faded.
A rapid series of images flooded his mind and Sam realized what his vision meant. He stood quickly and pulled Tara away from the curb as a blue truck sped down the road. Suddenly, in a loud squeal of tires and a cloud of dust, the truck swerved onto the sidewalk and flew toward them. Sam knew there was no time to run away. He threw his body in front of Tara's hoping to somehow shield her from the inevitable death that was coming for both of them. His last thought was a prayer for his brother Dean. Sam feebly threw out his hand in a useless attempt to ward off the truck.
The pick-up instantly stopped as an unknown force kept it from going any further. As Tara and Sam watched, the frame of the truck caved in as though and invisible hand was squeezing it. In a moment only a twisted metal skeleton remained.
"Sam, Sam what was that?" Tara looked from the truck to Sam and back again. "Did you- I mean, how could something like that happen?"
Sam's head throbbed dully. "Yeah- yeah that was weird." He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to collect his thoughts. "I don't know what that was... I guess the driver lost control."
"It was like… right when you lifted your hand that truck just stopped." Tara started talking rapidly. "Es impossible, no puedo creerle." She looked up at Sam. "Sam, did you-"
At that moment Dean walked out of the bar. He looked at the twisted pile of metal that was once a Ford pick-up. "Built Ford tough." He thought ruefully. "What just happened out here?" Dean asked.
"This truck came out of nowhere," Sam grimaced and pressed his hand to his forehead, "And then it just stopped and…"
"You feeling okay?" Dean askd. Before his brother could answer he said, "Let's just get back to the motel before people start swarming the place." He flashed Tara a rushed smile before walking quickly to the Impala.
Sam turned to Tara, "Dean's right, I should go. Maybe I'll see you later."
As Sam walked back to the black car where his brother was waiting, Tara opened her cell phone and speed dialed the clinic. "O'Malley, I just found our break." A thoughtful, calculating smile graced her face. "And I think I know where he's staying."
"But we're already said we'd solve this case." Sam insisted.
"So?"
"So we need to finish what we started."
"Well Dad texted and told us we need to go to Salem Falls, so we're gonna go." Before Sam could protest, he added, "It's as simple as that."
"Look you don't have to follow his every command," Sam raised his voice. "You act like you're his dog or something!"
Dean grabbed his jacket and slammed the door as he left. He had to leave before he messed up his brother's pretty face. God he was such a pain. He relished the fact that Sam would be stuck at the motel. Nothing good was within walking distance so he would be cooped up for however long Dean was gone.
Sam wanted to go after Dean. He hated himself when he got into fights with his brother. The memory of the incident at Roosevelt Asylum lingered fresh in his mind and he didn't want to leave things so tense between them anymore.
His head throbbed mercilessly. For a moment the room spun crazily.
Sam felt a wave of nausea flow through him. He launched himself at the toilet and his stomach forcefully emptied its contents.
As Dean walked into the bar he had the feeling that he was being watched again. Someone was following him, and doing a lousy job of it too. Even in a town so small and unfamiliar, Dean was confident he could lose them in a few minutes if he needed to. For now he just wanted to grab some extra cash. He started toward the pool table when he saw a familiar face.
"Hey, Tara." Dean waved at her. She didn't say anything to him; she was deep in discussion with another man. "Too bad for Sam, looks like she's taken." He thought.
His cell phone rang. He flipped it open and looked at the number. It was Sam. Dean really didn't have anything more to say to his brother so he flipped the phone shut and concentrated on aiming his pool stick at the next striped ball.
When Dean returned to the hotel he was disturbed by what he found. Sam was leaning over the toilet, silent tears streamed down his cheeks into the bowl. Dean dropped the greasy bag of food he had brought and ran to his brother's side. Sam had dark circles under his eyes and he was panting heavily into the toilet bowl, dried tearstains were evidence he had been distress for a long time. "Have you been here the whole time I was gone?" Dean asked, not really expecting an answer. Sam dry heaved into the toilet in reply. Dean felt helpless as he watched his brother suffering. After the retching spell passed, he tried to help Sam back to his bed, but the youngest Winchester refused to move. That was when Dean noticed the tremors moving through his brother's body. "Sam," he tried fruitlessly to encourage his brother to stand up. "Talk to me, what's wrong?"
Sam curled in on himself as his insides seized up. "D-D-Dean? "He stammered.
"I'm right here, Sammy." Dean gently rubbed his hand on Sam's back, tracing slow circles to try to relax him. After several minutes, Sam's tremors ceased and with Dean's help he stood up and slowly walked to his bed, where Sam immediately collapsed.
Dean quickly brought a cup of tap water and coaxed his brother into drinking it. He gently held Sam's head and tilted the water toward his mouth. He was strongly reminded of bottle feeding Sam when he was a baby.
After a few moments Sam turned his head away from the cup. "I don't know what happened. After the truck, my head started hurting a little and then…" His voice began to trail off as a sharp pain made its way through his intestines. "My-my visions never did this before."
"Well you never used the Force like that either." Dean answered. He thought about what happened to the truck and it wasn't hard for him to believe that Sam's body had been exhausted by the encounter.
Dean noticed Sam's head beginning to droop as sleep overtook him. He sighed deeply "Why does everything always happen to Sam?"
After a refreshing shower the next morning, Dean looked over at his brother's bed. Sam's body was curled into the shape of a cocktail shrimp and his sheets were drenched with his sweat. Dean tried to wake him up by shaking his shoulder, but he was met with only a low moan. He shook his brother harder and harder until finally Sam's eyes lazily opened.
"What?" He groaned.
Dean sat on the edge of the bed. "We really need to leave."
Sam closed his eyes again as his head began to ache.
"Look man, Dad's message isn't the only reason I want to ditch this place." Dean said slowly. "Some one's been following us. " He shifted uncomfortably. "I'm just worried- It's probably just a curious local or something- but I don't want to risk us getting caught with you like this."
Sam could hear the deep concern in his brother's voice; he knew that Dean was more worried about his condition than he let on. He struggled through the pain to get ready to leave; Dean's sympathetic eyes followed his every pain filled movement.
Another nameless town, another small motel. That was the plan, but then they had had to stop the car so Sam could blow chunks into a ditch. After that Dean insisted they stop at a little place a couple miles out from the last town. Hopefully they'd lost whoever had been following them. Either way, they weren't going to get any further away until Sam started feeling better.
Sam was burning in a sea of ice. He shivered from the cold, but he was so hot he had to kick the blanket off of his body. He looked around the room and frowned when he didn't see Dean anywhere. A fuzzy memory pushed through the haze in his brain… Dean had said something about going out and getting some supplies or something like that.
Sam had just fallen into a deep dreamless sleep when something had woken him up. He realized it was the loud knock of someone who demanded to be let in.
Sam struggled to the door. "Why is Dean knocking?" He dimly wondered, "He has a key."
Dean returned to the motel with a few pill bottles, an electrolyte drink, and some Campbell's soup; Sam had always liked chicken-noodle soup when he was a kid. Dean paused and narrowed his eyes when he saw that the door to their room was wide open; Sam wasn't inside.
"Why did I leave him? I knew he was too sick." Dean chastised himself. "That fever… he probably just started walking off somewhere. He could have gone anywhere." Images of Sam wandering into a busy road appeared before his eyes. "No." Dean shook his head. "I'll find him. I'll find him and give him some drugs and he'll be fine."
Dean froze as a memory came to him. The feeling of being watched, stalked. It was something that had become familiar to the brothers because of the life that they led. How could he have been so stupid? Sam hadn't wandered off, he'd been taken.