Disclaimer:Anything you don't recognise belongs to me… The rest is just wishful thinking.
Warning: Naughty words.
Author's Note: Thanks heaps to everyone who reviewed! Also, from here on, the chapters get longer than they were in chapter 1, and in A Psychic's Touch. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 2: Waking
He was lost inside himself. Completely and utterly lost for a time that lasted so long yet took no time at all.
And then he felt it. The demon, invading his mind, his body, his very spirit. It was consuming him, filling every physical and spiritual sense. It seized his mind completely.
Now you will both die, he heard it cackle, the sound consuming him, filling the role of the first onslaught of pervasive invasion. He felt sick, dirty and so very wrong. He had never felt emotions like it in his life. He had never felt so wrong in his life.
I don't think so, Sam muttered back. Either the demon didn't hear him, or it ignored him. Either way, it came on, unstoppable and disgusting. It was in that instant that it knew everything Sam was. No, it was more than that. For an instant, it was like the demon and Sam were one and the same, the same disgusting, evil, wrong being. Sam felt so unbelievably abhorrent, he wondered if he could ever get over it. Then he wondered if he would ever get the chance to find out.
It enveloped him, filled him, now more than him, occupying, owning so much more of Sam's mind than Sam himself. But it was still Sam's mind, and in that laid his strength. And its weakness…
He sprang into consciousness so quickly that he groaned as aches and pains came flooding back. Whispers stopped immediately, but Sam felt the worry coming off the two people near him. What were two people doing there? As far as he could remember, there should only be one there, and that was Dean. What had woken him?
"Dean!"
He suddenly had to know where his brother was so badly that he was trying to get up before his eyes had even opened properly. Then the pain in his back flooded his system and he groaned once more, collapsing back onto the bed.
The bed?
Wondering what the hell was going on, he opened his eyes against the light beaming into his eyes from above. Immediately he spotted the two figures leaning over him, but neither of them was Dean.
"Where's Dean?" he asked, his voice intense and cold. It seemed to shock the two strangers.
"Who?" the boy asked. He was standing further back, but he was taller than the girl. Sam looked from one to the other, noticing the many similarities, like the blond hair, blue eyes and just that air of confidence. They could have stepped out of a teen magazine, easily, if it weren't for the sense of danger Sam got from them. It surprised him that the psychic stuff was still on, but it let him study these two better than eyes ever could. And they were dangerous. It was the same kind of feeling he got from Dean, just far less intense.
"Are you all right?" the girl suddenly asked, and Sam came crashing back to reality, realizing he hadn't answered the question. He had no clue where he was, there were two strangers standing over him, he felt like he had been pummelled, and Dean was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Dean?" he asked, knowing that was the most pressing question. He had to find Dean. He had to find his brother. What had happened?
The girl looked up at the boy. At her brother. They had to be siblings, Sam decided. They were too alike to be anything less.
"I think he's got a concussion," she stated. Sam shook his head. He didn't. He just had to find Dean. But the two were taking no notice of him at all.
"I told you we should have taken him to hospital," the boy snapped. The girl rolled her eyes.
"And told them what? Oh, here, look after this guy we found in the middle of a cemetery, bleeding after he fell from a tree and nearly broke his back." She shook her head. "We had no choice, Ash. We need to avoid notice."
But her words had given Sam what he needed. "Cemetery."
It wasn't meant as a question, but the girl nodded. Sam took no notice. The night before came back to him quickly; the ghost, the demons, and Dean, being dragged off…
"Dean!" Sam yelled, sitting bolt upright and flinging off the covers, shoving the pain in his back away. The two strangers backed off, scared, Sam realized. He looked over at them.
"When you found me, did you find anyone else? Another man?"
He didn't move towards them, didn't feel like he was threatening them in any way, but they both seemed to stand more upright, as if preparing for an attack.
"No, no one, except you."
"Dammit!" Sam cried, swinging his fist and hitting the bedside table. "Dammit, dammit, dammit! You idiot, Dean, you fucking idiot."
Dean had been taken by those damn demons. Sam, feeling anger and helplessness coming on, sat down on the bed before he could kick anything. There, he bent over and laced his hands behind his head. "God damn, Dean!"
He felt the girl coming closer and looked up before she could touch his shoulder. She seemed startled, but sat down beside him. The boy too, came closer, and they were both sympathetic.
He didn't let them speak. He stood again, looking around. "I have to go. Look, thank you for whatever you did, but I really do have to go."
Only he couldn't find any of his stuff. And for the first time he noticed he wasn't wearing any shoes. He turned to the siblings. "Where's my stuff?" he demanded.
The girl crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You are in no condition to be going anywhere," she told him. Sam stopped his visual search to stare at her. After a second sizing her up, he smirked.
"And how are you going to stop me? Where's my stuff? You know this is illegal."
Her chin rose defiantly. "I don't care. You had a five-inch long gash in your back that was bleeding badly. It's probably infected, and you probably have a concussion. Trust me, you'll thank us later."
Sam could barely contain his anger. These stupid little kids thought they knew everything. Okay, so they could only be a year or two younger than him. But they didn't know anything. Demons had taken his brother, and the trail would be growing colder by the second. Who knew how long Dean had been with them, but it was already too long.
"Look!" he shouted. "Just give me my stuff back. I can take care of myself! I just need to find my brother!"
At this the girl's eyes softened with sympathy. She uncrossed her arms and looked set to speak again. She never got the chance to say what she was going to say.
At the same time, Sam felt the boy reaching in. Before the guy could grab his arm though, Sam spun, seizing the offending limb and twisting, so the boy was completely within his power. Then he pushed, forcing the kid to his knees, ignoring his own pain caused by what had to be a sprain in his wrist. Sam didn't want to hurt the kid, he just needed to leave. He just needed to find Dean. He pushed the kid away.
He turned back to the girl, and was only mildly surprised to find a gun out, pointing at him, but down, nearer his knees than anywhere lethal. She was scared, Sam realized, of him. He found he didn't care.
He rushed forward; she wasn't that far from him. The motion was obviously too quick for her to track, or too unexpected, because before she had even moved the gun more than an inch, he had disarmed her.
Stepping back, he held the gun up. He heard the boy get to his feet, and moved in the opposite direction. The boy moved to stand next to his sister, holding his wrist, and for a moment, Sam stared at them. The fear was blatant on their faces.
Then he sighed, standing up straight and holding the gun down. "You know for hunters, your reflexes are way too slow." And he chucked the gun back to the girl.
She caught it, more surprised now than ever. Sam ignored it and began to search the room.
"You know we're hunters?" the boy asked. Sam nodded where he knelt looking under the bed.
"Yeah. Don't look so shocked. It's this… vibe all hunters have. Cocky, and sure of themselves." Okay, so it was more than a vibe, and it was only one he got when his little freaky mind powers were on. Like now. "My brother has the same problem."
Ah, there were his shoes. Now to find his other stuff. Or was it still at the cemetery. Wondering, he turned to the siblings, who were still standing where he had left them, shocked.
"Who are you?" the girl asked before Sam could ask his own question. He shrugged.
"Sam Winchester. I'm a hunter, like you."
"So it was you who burned the bones?" the boy asked. Sam nodded, getting frustrated. He had no time for this. At least he had shoes on now. Then he would find his stuff, get the Impala and…
"Dammit, the car," he muttered to himself. Dean would kill him if something happened to it. He looked up at the siblings.
"Look, when you found me, what did you do about the car?"
The boy frowned. "What car? We only found you, and a couple of guns."
"And what did you do with those guns?"
The girl sighed, having realized they couldn't keep him there any longer. She turned and ducked for a moment, coming back up with Sam's duffle bag in her hands.
"Thank you," Sam said, reaching for it. She hesitated.
"Why do you need to leave so quickly?" she asked. "I mean, isn't your back sore? And your wrist? And your head?"
Sam shook his head. "It can't afford to be." And it wasn't, at least not too badly. Over the past year he had gotten good at hiding pain, even from himself. Okay, so usually it wasn't so physical, but it worked the same way. Just ignore it. "I need to find my brother."
He sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling awfully tired all of a sudden. "While we were destroying that spirit, we were attacked. By demons. They kidnapped my brother. I need to find him."
"Dean's your brother?" the boy asked. Sam nodded and they both seemed to stand up straighter.
"We'll help you," the girl said decidedly. Sam immediately shook his head.
"No way. This is my problem. My family. I don't need your help."
Again the chin rose defiantly, this time with more than a trace of stubbornness. "You will if it turns out your back doesn't want to be ignored anymore. Or if you do have a concussion. You fell out of a tree. Your brother was captured by demons. I'd say you could use all the help you can get."
Sam stared at her for a moment, wondering who this brazen girl was. "Who are you?" he asked, mimicking his thoughts.
"Anya Jackson. This is my brother, Ash." They were twins, Sam also realized. Damn, that psychic radar seemed to be working well still. He just hoped it would be helpful.
He sighed. The idea of help did seem good. The idea of finding Dean alone seemed… bad. And, ever since Bloomsfeld, he had learnt to trust these feelings. He was, after all, a psychic.
"Fine. You can come. But you do as I say. I've been hunting nearly fifteen years." God, that made him sound old. "And this is my brother. Got it?"
They both nodded, hiding their disgruntlement. Sam nodded back. "Okay then. Grab your stuff and let's get going."
Dean knew what it was that woke him. Something about being flung into a wall just seemed to spring him from unconsciousness.
So he knew he was awake. Apart from that he was pretty much in the dark. And that was more than a metaphorical phrase. He felt totally blind in the dark space he currently inhabited. Not only that, but the space was tiny. His bound feet couldn't stretch out. And every time he tried to work out where he was, he was flung into another wall of his prison.
Okay, so he knew the situation was pretty bad. He was tied, hands in front of him, in a space maybe three foot by five, if that. He wasn't really sure. Again, it was the sharp hits on the walls that stopped him from knowing.
Well, he was moving. That much was clear. He wouldn't be hitting anything so often if he were stationary. Which, given time to think about it, meant only one thing, given the size of the space.
He was in the trunk of a car.
And it was just as bad as people claimed. Small, airless, dark. That left only one question. Or one important question.
Who had put him here? And why?
Okay, so that was two questions. And he had plenty more. Like where was Sam and why hadn't his little brother saved his ass yet? But they weren't the most pressing problems. He would have really liked to know who had put him in the damn car trunk before they opened the hatch to find him blinking up at them.
Well, he knew a little. He could remember, all too clearly, the night before. Or he thought it was the night before. In any case, he remembered the demons jumping him while he had tried to burn the bones of that damn ghost. And he remembered, all too clearly, the ease with which the bastards had got him. His efforts of getting away had done little more than annoy them, until he had had to call for Sam. He was getting rusty.
Still, he would have liked to know more about them. If he knew exactly what kind of demon they were, he could find a way to kill them. But it wasn't to be.
Maybe ten minutes after he woke – after slamming into the back of the boot due to the car's quick acceleration – he crashed into the front. Or what he assumed was the front. But the car stopped and he just avoided swallowing. As much as he wanted to taste fresh air, he really wasn't ready to face these demons.
But the trunk opened, and, blinking in artificial light, Dean peered out, trying to look as intimidating as he could while tied, sweaty and pale.
The first thing he saw, as soon as he could see, was something he would never forget.
It was a woman. The most intriguing, obviously evil woman he had ever seen, who immediately sparked a need to know who and what she was, a need to know so intimately that it could kill you. She wore power as confidently as any normal person wore clothes, and Dean could tell, just from the way she held herself, that she knew how to use it. She was small, but far from diminutive. She made him feel small while at the same time causing him to believe he was a huge, clumsy oaf compared to her fragile form. Dean thought that if she hadn't also exuded a dark evilness, he would have been prepared to do anything for her.
Suddenly she seemed to realize something. Abruptly in a fury, she spun and towered over the others. Or at least, they cowered back, and Dean couldn't help but be impressed by the fear this woman sparked in these demons, bringers of pain, death and destruction. Because there was no way she was a demon, but she still made them cower.
"You idiots!" she screamed, concentrating on three male figures in front of her. Dean recognised them as the three demons who had kidnapped him. They didn't look so powerful now, shrinking with fear.
"You complete fools!" the woman screamed just as loudly. "Idiots! One simple job and you couldn't even get that right!"
Dean stared up at her, confused. So did the three she was yelling at. They looked at each other, and then back at her.
"What do you mean? We snatched him and left the other one." They really couldn't see the problem, and neither could Dean. Well, apart from the problem of being in the hands of a gang of blood-thirsty demons led by angry, evil woman.
The woman near screamed with frustration and rage. Then she spun and, with only the slightest sign of exertion, dragged Dean from the trunk.
He landed on the ground hard and rolled over, stretching out. He grunted as a toe nudged him none too gently.
"I mean, idiot, that this isn't the one you were meant to GRAB!"
Their faces blanched, as did Dean's. That was even worse. They hadn't been after him. Which meant… which meant they were after Sam.
The demons appeared speechless. They looked at each other again, obviously wondering how they could have stuffed up so badly. The middle one looked at the woman.
"How? I mean… Eve, we -."
The demon cut off as the woman, Eve, growled. He never got another chance to explain. A second later his head exploded, showering everyone around with blood and brain pulp. Dean flinched as it hit him, and he felt the bile rising. Another two explosions – the other two demons – made him turn and vomit.
When he had emptied his stomach, he turned back and found Eve looking down at him with contempt. He stared back, but she didn't speak to him. After a moment she turned, not from discomfort, and began barking orders.
"Put him in the back room. No doubt those idiots left a trail, so the other one will be here soon. Get ready for him."
Dean began struggling instantly, but he felt suddenly weary at the same time. Two of them grabbed and spun him, and then he saw the blood on the concrete ground. He had a head wound, he realized. Now that could complicate matters. If he had a concussion, which was looking likely from the tiredness he was feeling, it would severely limit his ability to fight back. And to stop them from getting Sam.
He realized he was being dragged inside somewhere. He began fighting again, but the motion made him feel sick. He collapsed on the spot, dry retching, shaking. This couldn't be good. He did have a concussion. No wonder everything had been so hard to figure out while he was trapped in that boot. Not to mention the lack of air, space and that he had been hitting a wall every few seconds.
A second later Dean was dragged to his feet, and he tried to shake his arms from the hold. He looked around desperately, hoping for something to help him. His eyes swept over a town, a town he recognised. In fact they weren't far from the motel where he had been staying. He had only an instant to scan their surroundings before something hit him in the back, and he winced, dry retching again. By the time he finished they were inside the warehouse, and he was being dragged into a room.
The door slammed shut on him, putting him in almost complete darkness. All he could see was a faint outline of the door and a few objects in the room.
He got to his knees slowly, before kneeling still for a moment to make his head stop spinning. This was not good. Oh, wait, he had already realized that. But it wasn't. At least he had a fair idea of where he was. And, he thought with a grin, the idiots hadn't searched him. He could feel his cell phone in his pocket. He was without a weapon, apart from his hands, but he could ring Sam and tell him exactly where he was. And warn him.
Swallowing doubts, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone, no easy task with his hands tied. But he had to do this quickly, before any of them came for him.
He dialled Sam's number and held the phone to his ear, waiting desperately for his little brother to pick up.
Sam was in the lead. He could feel Anya right behind him, and Ash behind her. The girl was more than a little annoyed about being in the middle, but she hid it well. Sam's psychic radar was working still. He was surprised actually. Normally it lasted half a day, at most. This time it had been on for twice that.
He shook his thoughts from his head, concentrating instead on the trail in front of him. They had been following it silently since they had reached the cemetery. The Impala had still been there, thank God, but he had had to leave it in order to follow the trail through the forest. It had been easy. They had just had to follow the drag marks.
And then they came to the road.
Sam stopped, and Anya only just avoided running into him. She made a small noise in the back of her throat – a noise of annoyance – but Sam just ignored her, staring at the road.
There were tire marks for a few feet. And then they just disappeared. He took a few steps forward, following the black skid marks – the car must have accelerated quickly. And then they just ended.
"No," Sam whispered. "No, no, no, no, no!"
He heaved for breath, trying hard not to lose control. He gasped once, desperate to control his breathing. He wasn't going to hyperventilate in front of these complete strangers.
He looked back at the marks. He stood at the end of them, trying to wish them into existence. It didn't work, and he spun, screaming.
"Goddammit!"
Having let loose frightened rage, he sat down on the road, feeling exhausted. He was completely aware of Anya and Ash staring at him with worry.
And then his phone rang.
Eyes closed, he pulled the phone out, wondering who was ringing at three o'clock in the morning.
"Hello?"
"Sam, thank God!"
Sam's eyes snapped open, hand tightening over the phone. "Dean? What the hell?"
He got to his feet, immediately pacing. "How the hell are you calling? Are you okay? What happened?"
"One question at a time, Sammy," Dean ordered softly. "And not so loud. The demons are right outside my door."
"Demons?" He was feeling confused. "Are you all right?"
"Nothing a doctor couldn't fix. And yeah, demons. But they're a bunch of idiots. They didn't even search me. And they let me see where I am. And -."
Sam cut him off before he could continue. "Dean, where are you?"
"In a warehouse, on the outskirts of town. It's actually not far from our motel, though it was a long way from the cemetery then. But it's on the other side of town to the ranch. I'm in a big warehouse, smells kind of bad. I think it's pretty old, and it's abandoned."
"Back in town, huh. Damn, they did drive you a fair distance." He looked around, sighing. "It's going to take us a while to get there. A few hours, at least."
"Us?" Dean asked. "Who's with you?"
Sam looked around at the bewildered Anya and Ash. "Some hunters who found me in the cemetery. They've been helping. We were following your trail."
He barely heard Ash's mumbled, "I couldn't even see the damn trail." Sam ignored him.
"But we'll be there as soon as we can," Sam continued. "It's just gonna take us a couple of hours to get back into town."
Dean was silent for a moment. "Sammy, I don't think you should come. They were, damn!"
Dean's voice cut off suddenly and Sam stopped pacing, face turning white. "Dean? Dean? Dean!"
And then the phone went dead.
Dean gasped for breath where he was pinned against the wall. He could see his phone, and Sam's voice coming from it.
"Dean? Dean? Dean!"
Eve's foot crushed it as she stepped forward, a glare on her face that twisted her bright blue eyes. Nine angry figures accompanied her.
"Fool!" she shouted, making Dean flinch. "Do you want pain, boy? Cause that's what that phone call just got you."
Dean glared down at her. "You think I care. Sam knows where we are. He's gonna come smoke your ass."
The woman walked right up to him. Then she smiled, and reached out with her hand. Dean leaned back, trying to get away, but she still managed to cup his cheek. And then…
His head exploded in light. He groaned, from the sheer intensity of it. It wasn't painful, but the light was blinding. He felt his head shake, trying to get away, but it was all in his head. He couldn't get away from his own head.
Suddenly it died, and Dean felt his head collapse onto his chest. He couldn't hold it up. But Eve did that for him. She cupped his chin and lifted his head so that he was looking at her.
"What are you?" he asked in a raspy voice. She smiled at him.
"Poor Sammy," she whispered back. "He doesn't know we want him. You didn't get to warn him. Not only that. You think he's psychic powers are killing him. But not because he's psychic. But because you can't look at him the same every time you think about what happened to him five weeks ago. You want to know what's wrong, but you think that if he shares it with you before he's had time to contain it, he'll explode."
Dean stared down at her, horror marring his face. "You're psychic?"
Somehow he found the strength to twist away from her grip. "Get your filthy powers out of my mind! You have no right to be in there, bitch! Get out!"
She slapped him instantly, but as the stars slowly began to disappear from his vision, she turned away to the others. "The boy has friends, hunters. Let's go!"
Like it? Hope so. Thanks for reading!