As always, a big shout out to my reviewers! I appreciate your comments! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. And to everyone else reading--thanks for taking the time to check out my story! And again, as always, special thanks to amyblair! :)
Chapter Four
"You put the George Foreman on him?" Sam asked, looking askance at Dean.
"Yeah," Dean rasped with what he hoped was a cool and confident grin. "You know, like the boxer--not the grill named after him. Although…" He laughed a bit. "The grill would come in handy. I'd like to fry this demon guy's butt like there's no tomorrow."
"Well let's get you out of this mine or there won't be," said Sam, stepping over the fallen Lysander and latching a hand onto Dean's arm.
"'M okay, man," Dean told him quickly. "I can walk." He nudged Lysander with one booted foot… which gave him a sense of satisfaction. "And shouldn't we maybe exorcise this guy before we leave?"
"Oh yeah. Right."
Dean stared at his brother, wide-eyed. It wasn't like Sam to forget something important like that. Sam's genius of a mind must be preoccupied… With him…
Dean sighed, just barely resisting rolling his eyes. "Exorcise the freak and let's get out of here, Sammy." He patted his brother's arm with what he hoped was a significant amount of strength, resolving to ignore the dizziness and the nagging pain in his ribs… the pain that seemed to increase with each breath. He had to be strong for Sam, had to keep himself from distracting Sam.
"Dean, are you sure--?"
"Just get it done, Sam," Dean ordered, leaning back against the wall. He watched and waited until Sam began reading the ritual, then leaned his head back against the cool stone wall of the cave and closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing. The rhythmic cadence of Sam reading Latin was nearly enough to put Dean to sleep, but he fought unconsciousness. There's no way I'm leaving Sam to do this alone…
"Uh, Dean."
Uh-oh. That was definitely not Latin.
Dean's green eyes opened in a flash. The first thing he saw was Lysander's body rising up slightly off the ground, putting him instantly on the alert. "What's going on, Sammy?"
"I don't know." Sam's eyes were wide, his voice breathless with panic. "Maybe--maybe he's waking up."
Dean swore. Pressing a hand tightly to his side, he stepped forward, moving closer to the twitching body on the ground. He drew back his boot, prepared to kick the thing in the head.
"Wait!" Sam exclaimed.
"Why?" Dean retorted, making a face at his brother.
"I think--I think it's leaving him." Sam's eyes widened. Dean hadn't thought it possible for them to get any wider.
"Leaving him? For where?" Dean asked, cold dread settling in his already aching stomach.
"Well not hell." Sam swallowed hard. "I didn't--I didn't finish the exorcism."
Dean clenched his teeth in frustration and pain. He forced himself to swallow both down. This couldn't be good. He needed all his wits about him. "Well can't you finish it now?"
"I think--I think it's too late," Sam stammered, eyes wandering back to the body on the floor.
Lysander's body suddenly rose into a sitting position. The eyes were still closed, but the mouth opened wide. A furious shrieking sound bounced off the walls of the little room as a dark, roiling cloud of demonic smoke gushed out of the wide open mouth, blowing past the Winchesters and streaking out into the corridor of the cave. The earth shuddered once, violently, nearly knocking Dean off balance, then everything was still.
"I take it we lost him," Dean muttered, shaking his head.
Sam nodded weakly. "Yeah."
"Fantastic." Dean gritted his teeth, eyeing the collapsed man on the floor. "And this poor sucker?"
As if on cue, the man sat up, gasping and coughing.
Ignoring his own trouble breathing, Dean quickly knelt beside the poor man, while Sam knelt on the other side of him. "Hey, take it easy," Dean told the man, patting his shoulder.
"What--what's going on?" the man stammered, eyes practically bulging out of his head.
"Sir, you've been possessed by a demon," Sam explained quietly, calmly. "It's gone now. You're safe."
"Well tell me something I don't know!" the man snapped, rolling his eyes.
Sam and Dean exchanged surprised--and annoyed--glances.
"You know you were possessed by a demon?" Dean asked, frowning.
"That's what I meant, Sundance," the man replied dryly. "By the gods, you pack a solid punch." Glaring at Dean, he rubbed his jaw, wincing, then shrugged. "The name's George--George Taggart. Now can someone show me how to get the heck out of this place?"
"You're welcome," Dean muttered, narrowing his eyes on George's face.
"For what?" asked George airily.
"We saved your butt, man," Dean replied hoarsely. "Did you wanna be demon possessed for the rest of your life or somethin'?"
"I was a willing victim, I assure you," George explained. Taking in the Winchester's looks of surprise, he smiled haughtily. "What? Never heard of demon worshippers before?"
"You're a sick freak, you know that?" Dean muttered a curse and stood, shaking his head. It sickened him what people were capable of sometimes.
"Look, George, that demon couldn't care less about you," Sam explained patiently. "He was using you. I'm sure you can see that now."
"I'm not the one who needs seeing lessons," George replied.
There was something cold in his voice that made Dean turn around.
And he was instantly glad that he did.
Sam was looking down, shaking his head. George was reaching into his jacket, a look of violent elation twisting the clean-cut features of his face.
"Sammy!" Dean shouted.
Sam's head snapped up at the sound of his brother's voice. His eyes fixed on George, then widened. Moving fast--and utilizing moves Dean recognized from their dad's playbook--Sam grabbed George's arm and flipped the man around, pinning his arm behind his back. A knife clattered to the ground.
"Were you going to stab me!?" Sam growled, standing and dragging his would-be assailant to his feet beside him.
"Well, duh! Ow! Ow! Easy, big guy!" George yelped.
Dean stepped forward and took the man's jaw in his hand, glaring at him. "You think you can get away with trying to stab my brother?" He gave the guy's face a shake. "I'll kill you, you--"
"Dean!" Sam cried, jerking his older brother's attention away from the snarling face of George. Sam nodded toward the opening of the tiny room.
Dean looked out into the corridor. And blinked… because he could barely believe what he was seeing.
A woman was standing in the tunnel, faintly illuminated by a glowing, bluish light. She was tall and fair, dressed in a pale green dress. Her eyes were fixed on Dean and filled with a strange and unexpected sympathy.
"Well look at that, Sammy," Dean muttered. "There is a ghost."
The air inside the cave was suddenly, bone-chillingly cold.
"I say we beat the crap outta this bastard, then salt the glowing lady. How 'bout it?" Dean proposed, trying to hide an involuntary shudder. The coldness in the air was doing nothing for his starving lungs. The shudder tore through his body with a sudden vengeance, forcing him to gasp for breath. He quickly turned his back on Sam and George, wrapping one arm around his throbbing ribs.
"Dean?" Sam's voice was laced with panic and concern.
"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean gasped out raggedly, nearly bent double by the pain and lack of air. Something inexplicable drew his eyes back toward the ghostly figure in the corridor.
She looked back at him with incredibly sad, incredibly beautiful eyes. "You're hurt," she whispered, the soft sound of her voice echoing gently off the stone walls.
Dean frowned, confused. What the heck was a freakin' ghost doing being worried for him? "I'll be fine," he told her reflexively. Then he blinked. And what the heck was he doing talking to her like that?
"Let me help you," she gently replied, reaching toward him with a pale, slender arm.
"Dean?" came Sam's bewildered and anxious voice.
"What the crap is going on here?" Dean hissed, managing to straighten somewhat.
"Don't--don't go to her," Sam advised him quickly.
"Wasn't thinkin' about it," Dean lied, fixing puzzled eyes on the lady in the doorway.
"They're coming," the ghost woman said suddenly, glancing behind her.
"Who's coming?" Dean asked, brows knitting.
George laughed condescendingly.
"Oh yeah. Them." Dean turned around and socked George in the jaw. The once demon-possessed man slumped in Sam's arms.
"Demons?" Sam asked, letting the punk slide to the ground unceremoniously.
"I'd assume so," Dean replied. An embarrassing groan escaped his lips as a sharp pain lanced suddenly through his side.
"Dean--"
Dean held up a hand. "Sammy, I'm--"
"Sammy?"
Both Winchesters turned to look at the ghost lady with wide eyes.
"Is your name Sammy?" she asked, tilting her head to one side in what Dean thought--oddly--was an endearing and attractive gesture.
"It's Sam," Sam replied casually, then quickly clapped a hand over his mouth. He glanced at Dean, shock and confusion written all over his face. "Dude are we talking to this ghost? Shouldn't we be…" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "… burning her bones or something?"
"What if she's trying to help us?" Dean whispered back, completely surprised at his own words.
Sam actually smiled a bit at that. "Wow. That would be… kinda cool."
"Sam."
The boys shared bemused looks, then turned to the glowing woman in the corridor.
"Uh… yeah?" Sam replied, wearing a look of amazement.
"You have to get Dean out of here," the woman told him urgently. "Dean is hurt. And they're coming."
"Who?" Sam asked. Dean instantly recognized his brother's patient, questioning tone of voice--Dr. Sam Winchester, your friendly neighborhood psychiatrist. "Who's coming?"
"The black-eyes," the ghost hissed, impatience springing into her expression. "They're the ones who put it here. They're the reason I died."
Whoa. This was getting weird. "You--you know you're dead?" Dean asked the lady.
"Yes!" she exclaimed. "They put it here, and it killed me."
"It? Oh! The creature--the monster," Sam replied quickly, realization brightening his eyes. "The one that we killed."
"Yes! Yes!" the ghost cried, clasping her hands together before her. "And I thank you for that, but…" She glanced over her shoulder again. "You have to hurry. They're after you."
"Wait, wait, wait. You're saying the demons put that monster here?" Dean asked, frowning.
"We don't have time for this, Dean!" the woman told him, stamping her glowing foot in annoyance. "You have to leave--now!"
"Well what if we don't trust you?" Dean purported. "Our experience with ghosts hasn't exactly made us friends with them."
The ghost lady narrowed her eyes on Dean's face, lips twitching. "Do you really want to die here?"
"Not particularly," Dean replied. "But in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly a run and hide kinda guy. I like facing things head on. And if that includes you, then so be it."
The ghost woman rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Men! And here I thought I actually missed the stupid creatures!"
Sam Winchester couldn't think of a time when he had ever felt so utterly at a loss. He and Dean were lost in an abandoned mine, chatting with a beautiful woman who was glowing with a pale blue light, and waiting for an onslaught of demons. And the ghost was asking the brothers to trust her. Trust her… a ghost… a spirit. This was definitely a puzzle. Well… Sam usually liked puzzles. It was time to solve this one.
"What's your name?" he asked the ghost gently.
She turned to him with something of a blank expression. "Beryl," she said quietly, glancing down at the ground. "My name is Beryl." She looked back up at the Winchesters, her eyes full of an unlikely hope. "No one has said my name in such a long time…"
"Beryl, we--we're hunters," Sam told her, opting for honesty. "We… hunt demons and monsters and--and--"
"Ghosts," Dean finished. "We hunt ghosts."
Beryl's eyes shot to Dean's face and fixed there. Sam wasn't sure, but he thought he saw his brother flinch.
"I thought as much," Beryl said quietly. "Why else would the black-eyes be after you?"
A curious thought occurred to Sam then. He wondered what Beryl had been doing in the cave, why she had met up with the cave creature, how she knew that the demons had placed the monster there… But now was not the time for such questions.
"Beryl, do you know how to get out of this cave?" Sam asked, fidgeting with the salt packets in his pocket.
"Yes." She nodded shortly. "I've never been able to cross the line, but I know where it is."
"Good. Could you show us how to get out?"
She nodded quickly. "We'll have to hurry." Her eyes narrowed on Sam's. "You may have to help your brother, Sam. He's hurt."
Dean scoffed. "I'm fine, Beryl."
It didn't surprise Sam that Dean denied being injured. It did surprise Sam that Dean used the ghost's name.
Beryl's eyes shifted to Dean. "I was a nurse, Dean," she told him with a gentle, motherly patience. "I know hurt when I see it."
Dean was feeling very uncomfortable under her scrutiny, Sam could tell. Thinking fast, he moved closer to his older brother and faced Beryl. "Lead us out of here, if you don't mind."
"Follow me," said Beryl, moving deeper into the corridor.
"So we're going to trust her?" Dean whispered to Sam as they finally stepped out of the tiny room, leaving an unconscious George behind.
"Do we have a choice?" Sam wondered aloud.
"We always have a choice, Sam," Dean replied. "And this time… I think we've made the right one." He sighed. "I don't know why, but I have this gut feeling about Beryl…that she's… good."
"Me, too." Sam nodded. He also had a gut feeling that Beryl was right about Dean, that Dean was hurt worse than he was letting on, and that reminded him… "Oh crap!"
"What is it?" Dean asked quickly.
"The medical kit." Sam left his brother standing in the tunnel and ducked back into the little room, quickly retrieving the kit from the floor. He glanced briefly at George, who still appeared to be deep in the realms of unconsciousness. Sam grinned slowly. Dean had certainly put the George Foreman on George… again.
"Sammy?"
"I'm coming." Sam jogged back into the corridor, the medical kit clutched tightly under his arm. "Do you see any of our other weapons?"
"They're over here."
Both boys looked to see Beryl pointing with an illuminated hand toward Sam's fallen pack.
"Uh… Thanks, Beryl," Dean muttered as they gathered up their things. Sam could tell that Dean felt weird saying thanks to a ghost. It made Sam feel weird just to hear it.
The Winchesters quickly gathered up their weapons and supplies. Sam made sure to grab the heavy stuff before Dean had a chance. He knew his brother. Dean would insist on carrying almost everything, even if it killed him.
"We're ready, Beryl," Sam told the ghost as he shouldered his full pack. "Lead on."
Beryl simply nodded to the brothers, then started walking down the tunnel, lighting it up with pale blue. Which reminded Sam…
"Hey, Beryl, do you know what that light was back there?" Sam spoke up. "The one that separated me and Dean just after we killed that cave creature?"
Beryl glanced back at him, a wry smile curving her lips. "That was me… sort of. I got there at the same time one of the demons did."
Sam frowned. "But… What happened?"
"The black-eyes saw me and threw some sort of attack at me," Beryl explained matter-of-factly. "And I countered."
"You… countered?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes," Beryl replied simply. She paused at an intersect of tunnels, glancing left and right. "I think we go left here."
"You think?" Dean made a face.
"I haven't tried to leave in awhile, Dean," Beryl retorted, shooting him a glare. "Ever since I figured out that I really can't."
"Sorry," Dean muttered.
"So… You countered the demon's attack." Sam doggedly picked the story back up, determined to figure out what was going on in this mine. "And that caused the earthquake and the flash of light?"
"Yes." Beryl's voice was barely above a whisper.
"You must be pretty powerful to do something like that," Sam remarked, peering closely at the beautiful ghost.
"I was in my life, as well," she told the boys quietly. "I was… special."
A chill rushed through Sam's body at her words. Special… Did she mean special like him? Like Max Miller? Is she…was she like me?
"Left. We go left." Beryl gracefully turned and began walking down the corridor to the left.
"Let's go, man." Dean gently nudged Sam's elbow with his own.
Sam met his brother's eyes. "Dean…"
"And while we're following the hot ghost, uh, do you mind if I lean on you a bit?" Dean asked suddenly, eyes lowering.
Sam looked more closely at his brother. Dean's face was pale, and his eyes were feverishly bright.
"Dean--" Sam reached up to touch his brother's forehead.
Dean flinched away from the touch. "Just… Let me lean on you, okay?" he asked hoarsely.
Sam nodded quickly, swallowing hard. Worry twisted in his gut. "Okay, Dean. Lean on me."
