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Chapter 2
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The ground was wet and smelt terrible. Almost like rotting meat. Dean recognized the smell and grimaced slightly as he tried to sit up. He couldn't though, bound with what felt like rope and his face shoved in dirt. He spat out what dirt he could and rolled on his back, which was a huge mistake. Pain shot throughout his body originating from no one spot in particular and he let out a little gasp. So maybe the wet ground was his blood, he hoped not. His thoughts were slow as he tried to understand his predicament and where he might be. He came up with nothing.
Dean slowly and very painstakingly tried again to sit up. He noticed that his hands and feet were tied and the knives his dad always insisted he keep with him were missing.
"Ah look, its awake." A creature, for that was all Dean could think of it as, crouched over him slightly. Its skin was a sickly grayish green and it wore no clothes. Yellow teeth and yellow eyes, the thing looked hungry.
A chill ran down Dean's spine. No words seemed to bubble out of his mouth although he tried, tried to scream or shout. The thing turned around, back towards Dean and walked away. Muttering and mimicking random sounds.
Dean soon discovered that he rather didn't like the muttering, especially since he couldn't understand what it muttered about. For example, if it muttered about tasty fish instead of tasty flesh, then Dean would be happy. But the thing could very well be muttering about his mother's bones and he'd have no idea.
A breath Dean hadn't realized he had held was released and he squirmed in his confines as much as the pain would allow him to. He was stuck with a grotesque looking thing and covered in what smelt like rotting flesh and as an added bonus, Dean had no idea what he was doing here or how he'd gotten to wherever here was.
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Sam tried to ignore his racing heartbeat as he realized what he was about to do. To hell with going back to the car, Sam was going after Dean.
So instead of walking back to the impala like a good little soldier, Sam turned back around. Only to come face to face with John. Damn.
"I thought you were going back to the car Sam." John gave his son a heated stare.
"Um I w- I am. See, this is me going to the car." Sam said to his dad, almost flinching at the idea of what his dad would do.
His dad grunted and limped to the back of the car where he popped the trunk open to reveal a very unorganized armory. His fingers lightly ran over several different weapons, selecting a few he slung them over his back and went to close the trunk again. Sam reached out to stop it and met his father's eyes.
"I'm going with you." There was no question in Sam's mind.
John looked at his youngest son and sighed. He had tried so hard to keep Sam from growing up. Sam was fourteen, not really a kid anymore, and he was tall enough to look seventeen but John still held to the belief that Sam was still young enough to be…young.
"No Sammy. Sorry but you can't, I don't know what this thing might pull. And we've never seen anything like this before and its unpredictable as all hell. I do not want to get you caught up in the crossfire."
"That's even more of a reason to let me come with you." Sam reaches for another weapon but John grabs his wrist. Sam flushes red with anger.
"Dad, he's my brother. If something happens to Dean while I'm stuck here…" Sam looked up at John who stares Sam down. What wasn't said in Sam's open statement, and what John clearly understands was, if something happens to Dean, Sam would never forgivehim. John resisted from snarling at his son and at first tightened his grasp on Sam's wrist then dropped it as if it where a red hot coal.
Sam took the chance to grab a gun and a handful of bullets as well as a sacrificial blade.
"No." John was firm.
John saw the fury in Sammy's eyes unleashed and he prepared himself for another explosive argument. They seemed to be happening a lot more than usual ever since he turned twelve it seemed a floodgate for questions and rebellion.
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Who did he think he was? Dean was still out there, alone and probably bleeding to death, and what did his dad do? Refuse to let Sam help in the few ways he could and remind Sam again that he was 'just a kid' and every second they spent arguing only cemented the idea of Dean in peril.
"Fine."
John Balked. What?
"Go. But when you pass out from blood loss and exhaustion and when you are as good as dead, I'm going to have to rescue both Dean and your asses." Even as the words left his mouth Sam knew they sounded worse then he meant them too but he didn't care at the moment.
John paused to look at Sam, but the first thing that he said was, "Watch your tongue boy and treat me with some respect, I'm trying my hardest." The words seemed to scald Sam and he was forced to look down.
John continued, "When I order you to stay here at the car," John pointed to the ground. "I expect you to stay here. When I tell you no. I mean no. Sam you will not come with me and you will not argue with me anymore. If you insist being treated like an adult I expect you to act like one."
John was a man of little words. Usually the only time John and Sam actually spoke to each other, arguments aside, was to say 'pass the Chinese take out please' or 'hand me my 22 rifle son'. The two had yet to have a full and real conversation.
"Now, get in the car and wait for me to get back with Dean." John said this with a certainty that only reassured Sam a little. He still wanted to go after Dean. John had a very small and slight smile on his face as he patted Sam on the shoulder.
Sam stood watching his father walk back into the woods, shaking with anger. Sam was on the brink of tears. And had John known his son like he insisted he did, he would not have left Sam alone, by himself, with an armory for a trunk and enough anger to fuel a small tanker and with the last words being 'no'.
So all in all, a little shorter than I wanted this chapter to be and I apologize for the filler but I needed it to get things moving. Thanks and I hope you enjoyed it. If you have anything to say at all, confused or what not please tell me.
-me
