Darkfalling – chpt 4.

by: sifi

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"You sure you don't want to stay in the car?" Dean asked casting a sidelong glance at his younger brother who was outpacing him with those long legs of his, to the house.

"I'm sure," Sam nodded with a soft smirk, "I'm fine Dean... don't worry," he admonished.

"Sure what's to worry about? Bunch of cult freaks snatch and torture my baby brother and neither of us get a look at their faces we're so bent on getting out of there, so really they could be anyone in this craphole town, including the cops we called last night, so it's not like we can expect help from anyone...but then again... what's new?" he snarked bitterly, his vehemence hitting Sam hard.

"Dean... it's okay... we'll see what we can find out here, meet Laura back at the motel then head out to Bobby's..." Sam assured him softly.

Dean nodded, "Yeah... I don't like it though Sam... these are people... but they might be possessed, OR they might just be your garden variety cult freaks... either way, unless they ARE possessed there's not a whole lot we can do... unless you wanna draw a Seal around the local courthouse and try and exorcise 'em...hey that's an idea..." he began to contemplate the logistics of doing just that while Sam's face split into his trademark deeply dimpled grin.

"After this morning's "Twinkie-talk" it might be more important to get to Bobby's and see if we can find out exactly what happened to cause the surge in activity... I mean maybe its just part of the natural fluctuation but Laura doesn't seem to think so, and with what we're fairly sure was happening up in Washington, and then the whole River Grove thing with the virus... We KNOW something's happening, and it's a pretty safe bet it's gonna be big..." Sam ticked off the growing list of events that seemed to be pointing toward something scary big, on the way.

"Yeah... we do know that don't we?" Dean nodded through a surge of pride that even with everything they'd both, but mostly Sam had been put through recently, he could still keep his head. One of these days Sammy you're just gonna make me break down and tell you how proud I am of you aren't you? You're just gonna force me to give you that damned hug, and tell you just how much I love you aren't you little brother? he smiled to himself.

Sam nodded, "... and we both know... what they did to me last night... I just wish I knew what they were trying to summon..." he muttered. "He'll come for you... We'll be rewarded... You'll be revered... feared..." then a whisper beneath the memory of those words, "...it's your destiny... embrace it..."

"They didn't chant any names? Zuul... Gozer the Gozarian...?" Dean double checked with a smirk.

Sam shook his head, "They just seemed to think it would come if I called..."

"You think it was the yellow eyed demon?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head and frowned, "I don't know...I didn't have a vision or anything..."

"But you did shoot that athame out of that s.o.b.'s hand..." Dean pointed out then paused looking curiously at Sam, "You DID shoot that athame out of his... her... you DID do that right?" he asked.

Sam nodded and his face clouded over. He had no regrets about that ability surging out of him when it did, he had nothing to be sorry for, he very possibly saved his brother's life last night, but it was more than a little unlike what happened at Max Miller's house with the cabinet in front of the closet door, the completely reflexive use of this particular ability with the vision of Dean's brains bursting out of his head against the wall. Where that instant seemed to have taken something from him to make that cabinet move, last night's use seemed almost intentional. Yes, the sense had flowed from him hard and fast, but it hadn't felt uncontrolled, in fact it felt like the slow lowering of a barbell with almost too much weight on it, shaky but certain the weight could be lowered and not dropped.

Dean saw the look on Sam's face and stopped. He grabbed his brother by the shoulder and turned him so they were facing each other, "I know what you're thinking... and don't you buy into it!..." his expression changed, "What you did might very well have saved my life... there's nothing evil about that!" he insisted.

Sam took a breath, "And just what am I NOT supposed to buy into Dean? The fact that these sons of bitches seemed to think I could call up some Godfather of Sadism or something just by willing it? What if they were right? What if every step I take, every little grasp I get or every little bit I use these abilities just opens the door a little more? Every taste of some kind of power or achievement with this... this... THING?! I'm human Dean! every human has the potential to be corrupted... and this kind of power that might be in here..." "I've seen you fail... I've watched you fall... I have only to make it happen..." he tapped himself on the chest and winced for the wounds beneath his clothes, "NO ONE should have that! NO one should have to..." he motioned at his brother but stopped short at the look on his face, No one should have to carry the burden that's been laid in your arms Dean... for twenty four years you've carried me and I'm not sure you've ever even known you were doing it... and felt his heart race in his chest as he huffed humorlessly and shook his head. "It's already happened..."

"I get that it scares you Sam... I really do..." he nodded.

"It scares you too... it only took Andy pushing you to let ME know..." Sam reminded him.

"That wasn't fair!" Dean protested sternly.

Sam half nodded, amused and just a little unable to understand how someone so intuitive, someone who was as successful a hunter as his older brother, could be so insistent that destiny can be changed, "Fair? What's fair Dean?... and fair or not... doesn't change the fact that it's true!"

Dean cocked his head and sighed. I understand what you're saying Sam... but you have to have faith in me... I KNOW you! Better than you know yourself... You're no more able to go darkside than... than... than an Ewok can become a Wookie! he thought but knew this wasn't the time to try and joke with his broody brother, "So what do we do then? We can't run or hide from whatever's going to happen, you said it yourself, you want to face this head on... well let's face it head on... but I'll be damned if I'm going to let you walk the road alone do you understand me? We do this together or we don't do it..." Dean demanded expectantly.

After a moment, Sam nodded, smiled wanly, then grasped his shoulder and turned him toward the house, "Let's go see what we can see..."

What is it you're not telling me Sam? You're hiding something... I can smell it... Don't think I won't get it out of you... or Laura... I wonder if she would... he thought reminding himself to ask her later.

--

"Here..." Sam pulled a wad of yellow from his pocket and handed two latex gloves to Dean while donning his own pair, "It's an active crime scene, someone might come back..."

"Thanks," Dean nodded smiling appreciatively as he slid his hands into them. They'd been on his mind to get, but somehow he just never seemed to remember.

Sam nodded shining his flashlight around to the two "I" beams he'd been tethered to. There was no sign of the ropes that had bound him other than small frayed strands that had been shaved off, maybe when they'd raised him up. There was blood on the floor beneath the area he'd dangled and though he tried to see if there was any kind of indication on the floor where he'd originally awoken, there was too much blood, too many smudged footprints, presumably from any of the cult members or Dean or even himself.

He blinked and shook his head to clear the memory of it. His hand came up and he wiped his mouth. His tongue seemed to roll back into his throat, trying to make him gag while he fought the memories. Sweat started to bead on his forehead and upper lip and his heart picked up the pace just a bit.

"You okay?" Dean called from across the basement where he was examining the hole in the wall the athame had made. He frowned with his mouth and squinted at Sam who nodded and directed his flashlight beam right into Dean's eyes.

"Dude..." the light flicked away.

"Sorry... yeah... just..." trying to forget, "...trying to remember..." he turned away from Dean's obvious skepticism, sweeping the beam of light up one of the 'I' beams, the one his right wrist had been tethered to. Light shone on feathery scraps of rope as it traveled up the edge of the beam. He moved under the central support beam and stood up straight noting that it was still a good foot and a half above his head, but he could reach it easily. His light next swept the beam on what was his left and again he caught a glimpse of rough rope fibers, I need to go back to the car... he thought feeling sweat drip down his back to pool in his jeans.

"Hey..." Dean's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Hm?"

"C'mon let's go scope the rest of the house..."

Sam swallowed and shook his head, "I'm gonna go back to the car and get a couple things... I wanna see something..."

"You got something?" Dean asked peering through the railing, though halfway up the steps that led to the house proper.

"I don't know..." Sam admitted shaking his head.

Dean tossed the keys to him and admonished harshly, "Keep your eyes open Sam... we don't know anything about these guys yet..."

He checked his watch and smiled wryly, "It's 9:30 in the morning Dean... I think bad guys and cultists tend to sleep in... probably at least until eleven..."

Dean nodded and seemed to think, "Yeah it's probably in their bylaws or something..."

"I think so..." Sam nodded.

"Just be careful," Dean reiterated as Sam disappeared with a wave up the outer stairs.

Dean moved to the kitchen and watched Sam cross the lawn toward the street where they'd parked the impala a few houses down. He frowned to himself, shook his head and turned from the window. Sam can take care of himself... he's capable... it's broad daylight and he's on the alert... something's wrong with him though... post trauma? just stressed maybe? Who wouldn't be? He'll be alright... he HAS to be...I wish... man do I wish...

--

Quick and watchful, Sam rummaged through the trunk until he found what he was looking for, then closed up and headed back. There were a few things he was curious about, especially after having been back down there. Noise buzzed in his head, layers of sound and the memory of sensation. He felt an odd sense of disconnectedness with himself at the moment and wondered if he'd finally caved in to post traumatic stress. Perfect time to wimp out Sammy boy... I gotta snap out of this... it feels so... just un-real, not even surreal... I just need to know... if I'd tried just a little harder... maybe... that's crazy... we'll see what Laura gets from the lab... I can't believe Dean actually did that... that's gross... smart, but gross.

As he crossed the lawn yet again, the cellar doors smiling benignly in the morning sunshine he chewed his lower lip deep in thought. It's creepy dude... seriously creepy... I just have to know... I can extrapolate a probability with the right information... I just NEED to know if I'd tried harder... or if part of me didn't...

"Stop..." he warned himself softly, his heart beating hard and his breath coming short and heavy. He descended the steps closing the doors behind himself and stood approximately where the leader had stood while administering his beating. He heard footsteps, stealthy though they were, he knew his brother's walk.

"It's just me..." he called.

"Everything okay?" Dean asked craning his head to get a view of his brother standing and sketching something on a small pad of motel paper.

"Yep... You said this morning you saw embroidered on the back of its robe a sickle piercing the heart of Capricorn... was that the Goat's head representation or was that the actual constellation?" he asked.

"It was Goat Head Guy," Dean nodded taking a few steps further down into the basement.

Sam's hand moved the pencil quickly and intensely over the paper, his eyes seeming only to flick up to where Dean had found him while he drew, "You know much about Capricorn?" he asked without much inflection.

"Why? What're you thinking?" he asked.

"You finish the rest of the house?" Sam asked.

"Nuhp... sifting through the study... very interesting book collection... you'll have to come and see it..." he tried to entice. I don't know why, but you're giving me the shivers Sam...

As if in response Sam's pencil stopped and he looked at Dean with a soft smile, "Give me a couple minutes... I wanna get some of this down while it's still fresh in my head..." he asked flipping the page of the stationary pad and beginning a very short list.

Dean nodded, "A'right... just come up when you're done..."

"'Kay..." Sam nodded tapping the pencil's eraser against his lower lip, his brows furrowed deep in thought.

As Dean withdrew back up to the main level of the house Sam's eyes shifted to the stairs and his head cocked to the side, his eyes tracked his brother's footsteps across the floor above him. A moment later he sighed and moved to the junction of the support and "I" beam his left wrist had been tethered to. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat as he pulled a shank of rope from his pocket and wound it around the cross section, looping one end in a slipknot once the rest of it was secured. It's such an easy reach for me... my arms aren't even extended all the way up... testing his work and finding it adequate he moved to the other junction and tied a second shank of rope the same way.

Once both pieces were tied, each to a crossed section of beams he reached from one to the other. Either his left or his right hand could grab the slipknot but not both at the same time, that much was certain.

Spying the stepstool he moved it to where he'd been and stood on it. He slid his left hand into the slipknot, the nylon of the rope tearing and grasping at the scabs that had formed around his wrists in the night. Next he strained to reach the one on his right but he could and did. He wiggled his right hand into the noose and gave a tug, then realizing he had too much rope there, wound it once more around his wrist, sweating and straining to do so, until his shoulders cried out in protest and he was in almost the exact same position as he'd been when Dean arrived.

Slowly he bent his knees, letting his weight settle between his shoulders and his wrists. When his feet came completely off the stool, he gently slid it out from under him and let himself hang. He looked down, breathing quietly through his mouth, his muscles straining against his weight pulling on them, and extended his foot. At his deepest stretch his toes were still a good inch or two off the floor.

He felt his jaw clench, his flesh break out in a sweat that rolled down into the waistband of his shorts, his arms pulled and above him the floor creaked. He shifted his hips, straining, reaching for the floor, willing himself to be able to put a foot down on the earth below him, but no matter how he moved, pulled, shifted or strained, those couple of inches between his toe and the ground mocked him. Inches to freedom and I STILL can't do it... just a couple inches and I would've been free... he could feel that stereotypical ball of hot rage coiling inside his chest and he wanted to scream. His chest and arms squeezed, pulling at the ropes, pulling open the small tears in his skin yet again, he wasn't sure if it was blood or sweat that was still rolling down him and he didn't care. He wanted to be able to pull hard enough to rip these beams down, to break the welds that held them to the support beam overhead and tear this very place to pieces. But mostly he just wanted to scream. So close... just so freakin' close and I couldn't do it... I couldn't save myself...

--

tbc.

please R&R.

Thanks.

sifi.