Chapter Three
Dean drove with all-speed to Sioux Falls. The twenty-eight hours it would take to arrive seemed to be working against him. Dean felt as though the sooner he got to Bobby's the sooner they'd be able to find Sam.
Dean left message after message on his father's voice mail, every one becoming more and more desperate sounding as the Impala tore up the miles.
Dean clenched his jaw in frustration and terror. Everything was falling apart. He had never felt so alone before.
The chords to 'Smoke on the Water' startled Dean and he fished his phone from his pocket.
"Dad?" Dean didn't even check the caller ID before answering.
"Sorry son," Bobby rumbled, "Just me."
"Oh, hi Bobby," the young man answered, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice.
"Heard from your father yet?" the older hunter asked.
Dean shook his head but then answered out loud, "I just don't understand it, Bobby. If Dad is out there somewhere, why isn't he answering his phone? I know he and Sam had their share of arguments but he can't ignore this! Does Dad maybe… could he hate Sam?"
"No," Bobby answered immediately, "Your Daddy doesn't hate Sam, why would you think of something as crazy as that? He most likely can't get reception where his is or something."
Dean sighed, "You're right Bobby- his phone just isn't working."
"Of course I'm right, boy," Dean couldn't help but smile just a little, "Now get your butt on over here so we can find your father and brother."
"Alright Bobby," Dean agreed, heartened by the older hunter's confidence that they would find John and Sam, "I still have a few hours to go but you'll keep a pot of coffee on for me, yeah?"
"'Course I will, son," Bobby grumbled, "Drive carefully, now."
Dean said goodbye to the older hunter and closed his phone. Feeling uncomfortable in the silent car, Dean reached out and turned on the radio and forced a smile when Led Zeppelin's 'Trampled Under Foot' started playing.
SPN
Sam's arm ached terribly. The limb throbbed in time with his heartbeat from the shoulder all the way down to his fingertips. He was sitting against the wall at the back of his cage, his head tilted back.
Sam listened to the noises surrounding him- the rustle of clothes as someone moved, soft crying, a stifled cough- and closed his eyes slowly.
The quiet padding of bare feet made Sam open his eyes half-way. He hadn't even heard Felicity open the door at the top of the stairs.
Sam watched as the vampire approached his cage, a hungry smile on her plump lips. She was wearing a dress again- dark red this time- and a cruel spark in her eyes.
The young man's face was a calm mask as the cage door opened and the woman stepped inside.
"Don't mind me coming down for a drink, do you?" she asked in a soft voice.
"Since you're asking, I wouldn't mind a cold one," Sam replied, trying to smile at the monster standing before him.
Felicity gave a haughty laugh and the young man sneered angrily.
The vampire reached a hand toward Sam and he flinched away. Felicity pouted and dropped her hand.
"You do not yet realize the position that you're in," the vampire commented, glancing around the confines of the cage.
Sam followed her gaze, "And what position is that?"
Felicity leaned forward and suddenly Sam could smell her- a mixture of copper and something earthy, decayed- and he pulled back in revulsion.
The vampire moved until her lips were nearly touching Sam's ear, almost as though she wished to confide in him some secret meant only for the two of them.
"I knew you were special from the moment I first saw you… and you are. Your blood is extraordinarily delicious… and I'll admit I'm a greedy woman… no other vampire will taste it. Not. Even. Wycliffe."
Sam shuddered and Felicity's lips brushed his ear as she chuckled.
"I will protect you," the vampire continued, "No one will ever touch you."
Sam swallowed painfully, "Except you."
Felicity's full lips curved into a deeper smile, "Am I that bad?"
Sam thought it best not to answer that question. The vampire frowned and lifted the young man's chin with two fingers.
Felicity reeled back with a cry of surprise when Sam's forehead slammed into her face, her narrow nose breaking under the force of the blow.
The vampire screeched in rage, her shark-like fangs slipping over human teeth, her fingers curled into claws.
Sam scrambled out of the monster's reach, knowing all too well that he would not get far, and smashed into the bars of his cage.
"Don't you dare touch me again!" Sam spat at the vampire and found himself trapped as Felicity whipped around, anger burning in her blue eyes.
The vampire's lips pulled back in a grotesque smile as she moved forward, "I like your spirit. Too bad it will have to be broken."
Sam backed himself into a corner and clenched his hands into fists. Felicity forced herself into the small space before the young man, crowding him in and cutting off any escape route.
Preternaturally fast, Felicity's fist struck Sam's face, catching his nose and right eye, blinding him with pain. Blood spurted from the young man's nose and his eye began to swell.
While the young man was distracted, the vampire grabbed his arm and pushed his sleeve up to the elbow. Salivating in anticipation, Felicity looked up to see that Sam was watching her through his one good eye, an expression of unadulterated hate etched into his features. The smell of the blood running freely from his nose was driving the vampire mad and she hesitated no longer. Taking a large bite, Felicity drank as much as she dared. She stopped when she felt the young man shudder and heard him gasp weakly.
Releasing her victim, Felicity wiped blood away from her mouth with one finger. She stood and peered down at Sam. He was listing to one side where he sat, both eyes closed and breathing in shallow bursts.
The vampire sucked on the tip of her finger for a moment, thinking, before turning and exiting the cage, a sly smile on her face.
SPN
Gravel shot out from beneath the Impala's tires as Dean skidded into the long driveway of Singer Salvage.
The young hunter was exhausted from the long drive but resting was the last thing on his mind.
Turning off the Impala's engine, Dean sat back against the driver's seat, listening to the tick of cooling metal.
He had hoped to see his father's hulking black truck in the driveway when he arrived but the conspicuous vehicle was absent.
Running a hand through his short-cropped hair, Dean opened the Impala's door, groaning slightly when his back protested the movement.
Grabbing his duffle bag from the trunk of the car, Dean took a deep breath and marched toward the porch.
Dean wasn't surprised when the screen door flew open and Bobby Singer stepped onto the welcome mat, a double-barrel shotgun pointed at the would-be intruder.
"Is that how you always greet your friends?" Dean asked with a barely-concealed smirk.
"Get in here," Bobby growled in response.
Losing his smile, Dean climbed the porch steps and brushed past the older man as Bobby held the door open for him.
"There's a fresh pot of coffee on the burner," Bobby told Dean as the younger man stepped inside and set his duffle bag down.
"You're a lifesaver," Dean commented, heading straight into the kitchen, intent on pouring himself a large cup of java.
Dean sat down at the kitchen table, mug of coffee in hand and slurped the hot beverage contentedly for a moment before being forced to come back to reality.
Bobby leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his brown vest. He watched the younger hunter in silence for a long while before clearing his throat.
Dean looked up and sighed, his expression turning sad and stressed.
Bobby sighed, "I started looking up any unexplained disappearances or accidents back around the time Sam went off to college but so far I've come up with a big, steaming pile of squat."
Dean gulped down a mouthful of coffee, "I should have made Sam stay with us."
Bobby shook his head, "You know he'd have been miserable."
"But at least he'd be safe! At least I'd know where he was!" The younger man exclaimed; angry at himself for not trying harder to keep his younger brother from leaving.
Bobby grunted; he couldn't help but agree with the younger man. If John had had his way and forced his son to remain in the hunting life, both Dean and Sam would be sitting in his kitchen now, drinking coffee and trying to figure out where their father was.
"You hungry, son?" Bobby asked the younger hunter because he couldn't think of anything else to say.
Dean drained his cup and turned in his seat, eyes going to the coffeepot still sitting on the stovetop.
"If you're making," he said as he stood and made his way to the oven, pouring himself more coffee.
The hunters remained silent as Bobby emptied two cans of stew into a saucepan and cut slices of bread. Dean didn't speak again until he had a bowl of beef stew and a slice of toast in front of him.
"How are we going to find Sam?" Dean slurped a spoonful of stew.
The older hunter actually shook his head, "I don't know. I can ask around if anyone in the hunting community's seen or heard anything about Sam but I've got a feeling the chances of anyone knowing what happened to your brother is slim."
"Do it, Bobby," Dean muttered through a mouthful of bread, "Maybe we'll even end up hearing something about Dad while we're at it."
Bobby nodded in agreement with Dean because he didn't dare voice his doubts in front of the young Winchester. At least not yet.
He hated it but he didn't think that they'd be able to find Sam. Whoever or whatever was involved in his disappearance had nearly a four year head start and any number of things could have happened to the young man in that time. They had a better chance of finding Amelia Earhart than Sam Winchester.
As if he knew the older hunter's thoughts, Dean swallowed a huge mouthful of bread and spoke, "C'mon Bobby, stranger things have happened."
Bobby grunted in acknowledgement; maybe Dean was right. Hunters lived with the strange and uncanny all the time and the boy did say he'd know if Sam was gone. Bobby knew how close the brothers had been when they were younger and wouldn't be surprised if Dean was right.
SPN
Sam put his hands over his ears to try and block out the sound of screaming. He curled up on the cold concrete floor and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
Not even Metallica could drown out the horrible cries of pain echoing around the basement prison.
Sam let out a hopeless, watery sigh as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and threatened to overflow. Sniffing, Sam wiped his nose with his sleeve and reached out to grab his threadbare blanket. It was dark green and badly fraying at the edges but that hardly mattered to Sam. He clutched the blanket to his chest as though he was a small child again; afraid of the bogey man in his closet or under his bed and only had to hide beneath a motel bed's duvet for comfort until the danger had passed.
Shivering badly, Sam hugged the blanket, burying his face in the scratchy worn fabric as he choked back sobs of helplessness and fear. Sam knew that he was being weak; he knew that his father had taught him better but he couldn't stop the tears from falling once they started.
"Dean," he whispered as though his brother would be able to hear him- Sam wished that his brother would hear him- and thought for the nth time how hurt Dean had looked when he'd walked out the door for the last time, thinking only of going to California and leaving hunting behind forever.
"I'm scared, Dee," Sam muttered the words he'd so often spoken as a boy, words that would have his older brother by his side in an instant.
A lump formed painfully in Sam's throat because he knew that this time, Dean wasn't going to appear. Dean wasn't going to save him from the monsters this time.
Author's Note:
1. Edited by BerserkerHellHound. Thanks Sis!
2. Thanks to Samstruck, sammynanci, DianaLadris802, cold kagome, where the wind blows, SPN Mum, BranchSuper, LAHH, LeighAnnWallace, AshleyMarie84, sarah, MDarKspIrIt, and MysteryMadchen, for reviewing.
3. Please leave a comment. I love reading your reviews!
