Chapter 3
Dean groaned loudly as his cramped muscles and various cuts and scrapes protested his movements as he slowly made his way to his feet. He kept his eyes trained on Clay curiously, who was looking slightly out of breath and flustered.
"What the hell was that?" Clay asked again, his voice sounding sturdier.
When Dean was finally on both feet, he wavered for a moment as he collected his bearings. How could he answer that question?
"I-I don't know." Dean replied honestly, swallowing down the bile that threatened to spill.
Suddenly there was the sound of hurried footsteps coming from the upstairs where Clay stood. He turned his head to his left and peered down the hallway as Sam and Bobby flanked to his sides.
"What the hell happened?" Bobby asked wide-eyed as he glanced down the stairs quickly and saw the broken glass all over the floor by Dean's feet.
"I don't know." Dean repeated, taking in a deep steadying breath.
Dean looked up and saw Sam kneeling next to his son giving him a worried once-over. When Clay seemed to be okay, Sam stood and quickly ran down the stairs. He then stopped abruptly on the bottom step when he too saw the broken glass laying askew around Dean's feet.
"Did you guys hear that?" Dean asked nervously, his ears were still ringing from the loud intrusion. It was hard to believe they hadn't heard it.
"All I heard was breaking glass, boy!" Bobby replied as he rushed down the stairs, ignoring the broken glass laying everywhere.
Dean was taken aback. They hadn't heard the screeching? How was that possible?
"What the hell did you do?" Bobby prodded, his eyes staring Dean down accusingly.
"You think I did this?" Dean asked, suddenly annoyed.
Bobby simply shrugged with his wide eyes still fixed on Dean.
"I didn't do this, Bobby." Dean defended, his voice rising in anger.
"You were the only one down here is all I'm saying." Bobby argued submissively, "The doors and windows were salted, and I've got charms stashed all over the place. I don't know what else could've done it."
"Well it wasn't me!" Dean snapped, "I-it was some sort of presence…I felt it. Right before everything exploded, I was sitting in the kitchen. Then the television turned itself on. I went to go turn it off, and then there was this…loud…really loud screech."
"I didn't hear that." Sam interjected.
"I did." Clay chimed in sheepishly.
Dean, Sam, and Bobby's eyes all quickly averted to Clay who was taken aback by the sudden attention.
"That's what woke me up." Clay muttered.
"Okay." Bobby nodded slowly, as if trying to piece this all together.
"But what does this mean?" Dean asked suddenly worried, "Are we thinking demon?"
"I don't know," Sam replied with shrug, "I mean what kind of demon in immune to salt-lines?"
"Well I don't know, Sam!" Dean snapped, "But I cant think of anything else it could be!"
"Did you get some kinda reading on it, kid?" Bobby asked Clay with a small nod in his direction.
Clay shook his head slowly.
"Whatever it was…it was strong." Clay confirmed with an exhausted sigh.
Suddenly there was a strange wind that picked up within the house, causing all the loose papers to skitter around the room absently, and the dusty old books blew open – their pages flipping hurriedly.
To Dean and Bobby it might have only felt like a strong wind caused by the broken windows, but Sam and Clay shivered as Goosebumps crept up their arms telling them that this wasn't something normal.
And then, just as suddenly as the wind had picked up – it stopped. All the papers fluttered to the ground, and the books stopped flipping their pages.
Sam shuddered involuntarily, resulting in Clay snapping his wide bright blue eyes in his fathers' direction.
Sam felt the familiar soft prodding in his mind as his son tried to gain entry. Sighing in defeat, Sam opened himself up only a little so he and his son could speak in silence while he still remained somewhat guarded.
"Did you feel that just now?" Clay asked worriedly.
Sam only nodded in confirmation, but he didn't look his son in the eyes. He didn't want to tip Dean and Bobby off to their private conversation.
"What the heck is this thing?" Clay continued.
"I'm not sure." Sam replied honestly, "But whatever it is…I've never faced anything like it."
xXx
Sam, Dean, Bobby, and even Clay spent the rest of the night cleaning up the mess that the presence had left. They boarded up the windows, and swept up all the glass that lay littered on the ground.
By late morning, the house looked somewhat like its old dusty self.
Bobby wasn't too thrilled about having to replace the windows, lights, and television, but he didn't complain. Instead he went into his library, and attempted to figure out what it is they were dealing with.
After a few hours of finding absolutely nothing, Bobby came up with another idea.
"We could check with Pamela." Bobby suggested with a shrug.
"I dunno, Bobby." Dean sighed tiredly, "If Sam and Short-Stuff over here couldn't sense anything about this – what makes you think Pamela can?"
Clay scowled at his uncle for the nickname, but didn't protest.
"Maybe we just need a fresh set of eyes. Something this strong…maybe she's heard the other side talking." Bobby said simply.
"It's worth a shot." Sam chimed in with a shrug of his own.
"And whatever this thing is," Bobby said in a low serious tone, his eyes trained on Dean, "it seems to only want to make contact or whatever with you…or the kid."
Both Dean and Clay rolled their eyes. They knew Bobby was right, and they didn't really have any other choice.
Dean didn't have any problem with Pamela, but he wasn't sure what she could possibly do. Clay on the other hand thought she was a bit of a joke.
The last time they encountered Pamela, she tried to teach Sam to better control his abilities. Instead, she wound up putting him in a coma, trapped inside violent vision after violent vision.
Needless to say, Clay wasn't really in Pamela's fan club.
Getting all the approval he needed, Bobby walked into the kitchen where his chorded telephone hung on the wall and picked up the receiver before dialing her number.
xXx
Later that day when the sun was beginning to sink, the four boys pulled up in front of a rather normal looking home which they knew to be Pamela's.
After hanging up the phone with her, she told Bobby to bring the boys on over and she would see what she could do to help.
Bobby got out of the drivers' side of his muscle car, as Sam, Dean, and Clay climbed out of the Impala.
With Bobby taking the lead, he opened the front gate, and walked up the walkway to the front step. Clay closed the gate behind him, and took up the rear of the group.
The boys treaded up the creaky front steps slowly, and came to a halt at the front door. Bobby knocked on the closed screen door a couple times before the large door swung open, revealing a rather excited looking Pamela.
She opened the screen door, and stepped outside with a large smile on her face as she began to laugh.
"Bobby!" She exclaimed as she swept him into a large bear hug.
"Pamela." Bobby grunted beneath her strength as she lifted him off his feet.
Clay, Dean, and Sam looked at each other in confusion and surprise, but didn't dare say anything.
When Pamela finally released him, she took a step back to get a good look at the boys with her arms crossed over her chest.
"Sam…Clay…you boys seem to finally have a hang on things. Good for you." Pamela said with an approving nod.
Clay rolled his eyes, but Sam nodded in understanding accepting the compliment silently.
"So, you get anything?" Bobby asked curiously.
Pamela looked over at Dean and offered a wink. He looked at her for a moment, slightly taken aback, but flattered and slightly aroused nonetheless.
She then opened the screen door and the large front door and held it open for the boys to enter. Once filed in the house, Pamela closed both doors and turned to look at her guests.
"Well…I Ouija'd my way through a dozen spirits." Pamela responded vaguely, "No one seems to know about any sort of presence like the one you described."
"So what's next?" Bobby asked, seeming a little disappointed.
"Séance I think." Pamela replied with a shrug.
"You're not gonna summon the damn thing here, are you?" Bobby asked suddenly a little alarmed.
"No," Pamela responded with a chuckle as she unfolded her arms and walked past him slowly, "I just wanna get a sneak peak…kinda like a crystal ball without the crystal."
She walked passed Sam and Dean, offering them both a genuinely excited smile before stopping in front of a large cabinet and squatting down so that she could gather some candles for the séance.
Dean looked after her, as his gaze came to an abrupt halt at her low riding jeans revealing her tattoo on her lower back reading 'Jesse Forever' in cursive.
Dean nudged his brother, and nodded in the direction of the attractive psychic.
Sam looked at the tattoo his brother was staring at, he shook his head with a smile on his face. What was Dean thinking?
"So who's Jesse?" Dean asked the psychic. His tone of voice, clearly suggested that it was a line.
Pamela laughed, and turned her head toward Dean batting her lashes.
"Well it wasn't forever." She replied mirthfully.
"His loss." Dean teased flirtatiously.
Pamela stood upright with a handful of white candles, and walked over to Dean while she glanced down at his crotch before looking him in the eye.
"Could be your gain." She responded before turning to put the candles on the table.
Sam and Dean turned away from her quickly. Dean looked rather pleased with himself, while Sam was shaking his head at his brothers' undying libido.
"Yeah, she's gonna eat you alive." Sam muttered with a slight chuckle.
Pamela came rushing back toward the brothers' with a wide smile on her face as she turned her attention to Sam.
"You're invited too, Grumpy." She teased before walking off.
"You are not invited!" Dean whispered to Sam sternly, pointing a finger in Sam's face.
Clay, having overheard the whole thing looked sickened by the conversation, and walked over to see what Uncle Bobby was doing. That seemed like a safe thing to do.
xXx
Moments later, the boys were seated at the table which was covered by a black table cloth with a white pentagram sketched on it. Lit candles sat on the table, in the middle of the design on the table cloth.
The room was completely dark, save for the lit candles in the middle of the table.
"Okay," Pamela said calmly, "take each others' hands."
Sam raised his arms, and laid them on the table gently – as did everyone else seated at the table. He took his brothers' right hand with his left, and took his sons' left with his right.
"Close your eyes." Pamela commanded softly as her eyelids closed.
Everyone obeyed, even Clay – but not before rolling his eyes.
They sat there in silence for a moment or two before Pamela began to chant softly in English.
"I invoke, conjure, and command you – show me your face." She repeated, sounding completely monotone.
Suddenly there was silence and her eyebrow quirked in interest.
"Castiel?" She questioned.
At the sound of her changing the routine, Sam, Dean, Clay, and Bobby all opened their eyes to take a glance at Pamela whose eyes were still shut.
Suddenly the television behind Pamela's seat turned on to a staticy gray channel, as it did the night this presence came after Dean.
"No, sorry Castiel – I don't scare easy." Pamela replied to the seemingly one-sided conversation with a certain defiance.
"Castiel?" Dean questioned, his eyes fixed on the psychic.
She turned her head toward Dean, but didn't open her eyes.
"It's name," she explained hurriedly, "it's whispering to me – warning me to turn back."
"I command you – show me your face!" She tried again more forcefully.
Suddenly, the room around them was engulfed in a mini-earthquake causing the boys to stare at the psychic with her closed eyes in curiosity and worry.
"Maybe we should stop." Bobby suggested sounding a little paniced.
"I've almost got it!" Pamela snapped back, still keeping her concentration.
"I command you show me your face!" Pamela yelled louder.
"This isn't a good idea!" Clay snapped worriedly as he eyed the candles in the middle of the table as they began to wobble along with their surroundings.
Pamela ignored the child and yelled one last time.
"Show me your face, now!"
Then suddenly, the flame in the candles sky-rocketed as if someone had thrown lighter fluid on them to encourage their growth.
But more alarming was the sounds of Pamela screaming in agony.
The boys watched the psychic helplessly as her eyes were engulfed in a white light that only lasted a moment. When the light was suddenly extinguished, blood poured freely from her empty eye-sockets.
Thinking quickly, Bobby stood and made a grab for Pamela as she lost her balance and fell out of her chair – landing in his awaiting arms.
He knelt on the ground, holding her upright as Sam, Dean, and Clay gathered around to make sure she was alright.
Her eyelids were red, and black showing off how horribly burnt they were. Then Pamela opened her eyelids to reveal…nothing.
This creature burned her eyes clear out of her skull.
"I can't see!" Pamela sobbed helplessly.
"Call nine-one-one!" Bobby ordered whoever.
Sam immediately made a run for the kitchen toward the chordless telephone to dial for help.
"I can't see!" Pamela yelled again.
I hope all of you had a Happy Holiday. I'm back from my vacation, so my updates should be a tad bit faster. Haha.