Hey guys!! So I know I said this would be up by yesterday, but has been biting, and after a long competition yesterday, I didn't have the energy to fight back…
So here's the next chapter for Charli, or as you know her, Somebody Once…
Hope you enjoy… Oh and JJ Phoenix recommended the song, and it just seemed perfect for this story… It's called Waiting (Save your life) by The Crash Motive.
Happy reading!
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'Maybe I can save your life,
At times you've hated me,
Ain't that how love should be,
So just let me save your life,'
Sam cautiously drew the last symbol into place. It wasn't a guarantee that the traps would do any good, but his father was a better safe than sorry kind of guy, and knowing that the traps were in place would set his mind at ease.
Even if it didn't do any good for Sam himself.
Looking around, Sam scanned his surroundings, looking over anything and everything. He tried to figure out what had happened in the house in the past. What had drawn the banshee to attach itself to the old building, but there were no clues in the house itself.
Sure it was old and looked as if it held centuries of history in it's hands, yet Sam couldn't see a clear reason for all the attacks to have taken place there. He idly wondered to himself if the banshee had formed from a spirit that had died there, maybe one that had been murdered by a person fitting the description of all the victims.
Heaving a sigh, Sam stood and made his way over to his weapons bag. A hacking cough slowed his progress, and he pressed his hand to his mouth as if to ward off the pain that ripped up through his lungs and throat. His breath wheezed out a little as he continued to his bag, and he dropped his hand a little to protectively cradle his chest.
He drew his sawed of shot gun and checked to make sure the salt rounds were loaded and ready. Drawing his hunting knife, he sheathed it in it's case on his hip, and reached down to strap his 9mm on his ankle.
The gun was loaded with holy water rounds, exploding shells, and even it's own version of salt rounds… If they couldn't take down the banshee, well Sam only prayed the exorcism would work.
Standing up, Sam stretched, pulling his arms over his head and backwards, trying to release the tension he could feel forming between his shoulders. He forced himself to calm down, and told himself that the hunt would go fine, that nothing would go wrong.
Yeah we should ever be that lucky. Sam thought to himself ruefully. Gathering his things into his bag, he tossed the old duffle over his shoulder and walked from the room, an unconscious shiver running down his back.
He never saw the hate filled eyes that tracked his movements as he walked through the door.
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John Winchester scoped out the downstairs of the house as if he were a general going to war. And with what he was about to do, he supposed he was. Sam and Dean were his second in command and they fought their war every time a new hunt made itself known.
Smiling to himself, John walked over to the corner of the room he was in and rechecked the symbols he had drawn only moments ago. He had told Sam that nothing would go wrong on this hunt, and he was bound and determined to keep his word.
He would do everything possible to keep that promise.
Sighing as he ran his hand over the symbols and looked down into his journal to see if he had drawn them correctly, John shook his head. Everything was to perfection, and even though he knew that, he couldn't stop the feeling of foreboding that stole the breath from his lungs as he walked back into the kitchen of the old house.
Spiders and moths had made the old room their home over the years and cobwebs and moth nests in the corners and throughout the worn and breaking cupboards. Chuckling to himself, John walked over to the sink and looked out the little window above it, trying to gauge to the time from the darkness of the sky. He had forgotten his watch when he was preparing for the hunt and though his cell phone had the time on it, he had leant it to Dean so his son would have a way to call during the hunt.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he walked back out into the foyer and looked up the rickety stairs that would take him to the second floor of the house. Grasping the wooden railing tightly in his hand, he hauled himself onto the first step and took the rest of them two at a time, his hand barely skimming the rail.
As he stepped onto the creaking floorboards of the second floor, John winced. He never had liked the sound of old wood under his feet, and this house gave him a bad feeling in general, without the creepy noises.
Looking around the hallway, John grinned to himself. The runes Sam had been sent up to draw were perfectly spaced, and there wasn't a line out of place. When he checked in the rooms he could see that they too were taken care of in the highest of skill.
He was halfway down the hall when he heard the crash come from a room twenty feet in front of him. When he looked up, the door to the room slammed shut, and even as far back as he was, John could feel the temperature drop.
His sawed off shotgun was in his hand faster than he could blink, and he was running for the door, Sam's name on his lips. The words his son had last spoken to him only half an hour earlier beat their way into his mind, and he rammed his shoulder into the door.
'Every victim that has been found has the same profile description…'
SLAM!
'Mid to late teens…'
SLAM!
'With dark hair and a tall build.'
SLAM!
'Seven of the last ten attacks have been male…'
CRASH!
The choked off cry that emanated from behind the closed door froze John. He knew that voice anywhere, and Sam hadn't made that noise in a long time… He hadn't needed to make that sound in a long time.
"Sonovabitch! Sammy!" John called, as he stepped back and rammed into the door again. He had to get to his son. He had promised him that nothing would go wrong on this hunt, that they could handle it, and he had broken the promise. Intentionally or not, he had still broken it.
C'mon, open! John thought fervently as once again he threw himself into the door.
Hang on Sammy!
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Sam looked up from his work as he heard his father coming up the stairs, and he smiled, knowing his father had finished with the first floor, and would help him finish with the second.
As he was turning back to the rune he had been drawing, he heard the sound of his father's footsteps coming down the hall. Putting the oil based crayon back to the wall, Sam had only drawn one line when he felt the temperature drop.
Cold pressure gripped his throat and he dropped the crayon, reaching instead for the thing gripping his neck. He never had a chance to grab hold, as he was picked up off the floor and thrown across the room. He smashed into the window-side table, causing the wood to crack and break, and he fell to the floor on top of the pieces of broken oak.
Before he had a chance to get up, he heard the door slam shut, and the cold grip was back on his throat, tossing him as if he were nothing more than a rag doll across the room. The door to the closet collapsed inward as he hit it, sending him crashing through into the closet's back wall.
A sharp cry left his lips before he could stop it, as he felt the bone in his leg bend and break under his weight as he landed. Sam grappled, and tried to lift himself from his position on the floor, but he couldn't get his arms to work like he wanted them to.
He heard his father call out to him, even as he felt the cold pressure fold into his chest, and he gasped. He was fumbling for the non-corporeal hand even as he wheezed for breath. His hands passed through the banshee's arm, and he could feel himself getting closer to unconsciousness.
He tried to call for his father as black speckled his vision and the edges tinted gray, but nothing left his lips except for a coughing wheeze.
Dad! His mind screamed as darkness enfolded him.
'There's a line formed you can't see,
I've been waiting; you give nothing for free,
But there's a yearning, it's deep and calm,
And time has burnt me,
So, cut me a break 'cause I can't wait.'
TBC…
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A/N: So I hope you enjoyed, and as I promised, I can't go that long without limp and hurting Sammy…
So take care and review often,
DS