Disclaimer: Only in my dreams do I own Supernatural. Unfortunately, we don't live in my dreams.
Betaed: Many thanks to Gina (We.Do.It.In.The.Dark.StageCrew) for her kind words of wisdom. This story never would have started without her.
Warning: This story is rated T for a reason. This chapter contains mild gore and suggestive suicide.
modrocker423: For everyone who reviewed this story, thanks so much for your opinions and comments! I'm really glad you're enjoying the story. You're support means everything to me. And for everyone who read the story but did not reply, thanks for your mute but very much appreciated support.
::Chapter Two::
Sam sighed and put down his now empty cup of coffee on the bedside table. He repositioned the pillows behind his back and turned back to the television, which was airing a rather boring cooking show. Sam watched as the portly chef tried to unsuccessfully flip whatever he was burning in the frying pan and wondered why he was even watching the show. He looked around for the television remote and saw it gleam back at him from Dean's bed in an almost taunting manner.
Figures.
Sam argued with himself on whether or not he should muster up the effort and get the remote or continue to watch the terrible cooking show. His gaze returned to the television screen just in time to see the burnt food in the frying pan burst into flames and the chef trying to put it out with his rubber spatula.
Effort definitely won.
Heaving yet another sigh, Sam sat up from his comfortable position and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The sudden movement caused the world before him to tip and sway in a nauseating fashion. His head started to throb dully as the world took a second too long to right itself. Shaking his head slightly, Sam stood up and snatched the remote off of Dean's bed before settling himself back against his pillows.
Sam switched through the measly five channels on the television and found nothing that interested him. He cursed under his breath before switching it back to the cooking show, where the chef was now examining the crispy remains of his food.
The throbbing in his head seemed to become more persistent and painful as Sam watched the cooking show. He knuckled his temple as a yawn forced its way to Sam's lips, threatening to break free. Sam pushed it back, determined to not give in to his tired body. He eyed Dean's abandoned full cup of coffee on the table in between the two beds and debated on whether he should drink it. Dean would most likely be angry if he did, but Sam desperately needed the caffeine.
As Sam sat up a second time to grab Dean's cup of coffee, the world once again swirled before his eyes. However, this time the world decided not to right itself, causing Sam to go rigid with fear. His stomach churned as the dull headache intensified rapidly and burst to life as searing hot pain, blinding him and sending his pulse racing. Sam clutched his head and gritted his teeth, willing the vision to go away. Pressure built up painfully behind his eyes and the edges of his eye sight started to haze and fade away. Sam managed to choke out "Dean!" before the world vanished and the vision dragged him under.
Mist and humidity wisped through the small brightly tiled room, billowing and twirling in the streams of light coming from the overhead ceiling lamp. Perspiration clung in tiny beads on the smooth glass surface of the oval shaped mirror hanging on the wall. A starch white towel was suddenly produced and the beads of perspiration were smeared away, revealing the reflection of a middle aged man. The man stared back at his reflection through moss green eyes before scrubbing a hand through his wet salt and pepper hair, pushing it back from his face.
The man heaved a sigh before pulling out a tan brown toiletry case with the name Howard J. Stern stitched on it and pulled out a razor and a can of shaving cream. Suddenly, the overhead ceiling lamp flickered, repeatedly plunging the room into semi-darkness for a split second before returning back to normal. Howard looked up at the light and was about to curse the damn thing before the flickering suddenly stopped. When Howard shrugged and adverted his eyes back to the mirror, he gasped and dropped his razor and can of shaving cream, shocked at what he saw.
The reflection of a woman with lightly curling blonde hair and blue-gray eyes stared back at Howard. Full, pink lips curled into a warm smile when his eyes locked with hers. The woman was wearing a billowing white dress and no shoes. However, something wasn't right. The dress was tattered and looked to be rotting away. The woman's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Her skin was way too pale for any living human being.
Living.
Howard quickly whirled around to make sure he wasn't imagining what he was seeing. He wasn't. The woman was still there with her eerie smile and her ripped dress billowing in a non-existent wind.
"Hello Howard," the woman said. Her voice reverberated softly and sounded distant and muffled, as if it was coming out of a very old speaker.
"It can't be," Howard gasped, staring at the woman with a mixture of awe and fear.
"Why can't it be?" the woman asked, her voice suddenly turning as cold and sharp as the blade of a knife. She took slow steps toward Howard, her bare feet making no sound against the tiled floor.
Howard felt an urge to back up, to run away and leave the room. But panic and curiosity kept him rooted to the spot. "You died," he replied, surprised at how weak his voice sounded.
"I'm back," the woman said simply. To prove her point, the woman stepped up to Howard and placed a cold and clammy hand against his cheek. She felt his skin quiver beneath her touch and felt an overpowering sense of satisfaction.
She had him now.
"Didn't you miss me?" the woman when Howard continued to gape at her.
"Of course," Howard responded quickly, then hesitatingly added, "but..."
"But what?" the woman snapped, her voice electric sharp. She saw Howard flinch in fear and she softened her demeanor. "I came back for you," she added, her voice now icy sweet. When Howard continued to look unsure, the woman pressed herself up against him and leaned in close to whisper "Kiss me" seductively in his ear.
Howard felt his heart race as the cool breath of the woman pressed itself against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Her full lips were a mere tantalizing inch away from his own. All he had to do was lean in and capture her savory lips with his own.
God how he wanted to kiss her.
But some sort of logic buzzed in the back of his brain, keeping him from kissing her. This was wrong. She couldn't be here, she was dead, he buried her! As her lips drew ever closer, he felt his brain haze over as his wants exceeded his logic. Before he knew it, he was kissing her.
Once the kiss ended, Howard kept his eyes closed for a couple of seconds so he could savor in what had just happened. However, when he slowly opened his eyes, he was surprised to not see the woman. He looked around the entire room but didn't see her anywhere.
Realization sunk into him. Maybe he had imagined it all.
Howard turned back to the mirror and saw his swollen lips. He touched them before shaking his head and picking up his abandoned razor and can of shaving cream. He began to lather up his face with the shaving cream when he heard her whisper. The hairs on the back of Howard's neck stood on end as he whirled around, dropping the can of shaving cream and causing it to smash to the ground and explode in a mass of white foam.
Once again, he didn't see her anywhere.
Cursing, Howard looked at the foamy mess at his feet and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the words "I love you" clearly written in the foam. He felt all the air compress out of his lungs, leaving him winded and light-headed. He stumbled backwards and groped for the doorknob, only to find it locked.
His fear escalating rapidly, Howard backed up against the sink and felt his hand brush against something sharp. Looking down, he saw his razor coated in something that made his stomach churn and bile lick his throat.
Blood.
Howard whipped around and to his horror saw the words "I love you" smeared across the mirror in what he knew was blood. Sobs wracked his chest as he suddenly knew what she wanted...what he had to do.
Tears of pain and sorrow ran freely down Howard's face as he reached with a shaking hand for his razor. With her whispered comforts in his ear, he placed the razor on the exposed skin of the underside of his wrist. He felt the pressures of his wrecked life dig in deep and cause his troubles to bleed away.
modrocker423: So what did you guys think? I told you it'd be longer this time. grins Sorry the warning sort of gave away the ending, but I needed to put it there in case people who don't like that type of stuff were going to read it. So, sorry once again and I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!