Memories

Memory is a human gift we have of preserving what we see and feel. It allows us to share what we experience and make connections with the world and people around us. Memory is the thread that binds us to one another. Through memory we learn to learn to love, to trust, to share. If the soul is what makes us human, then perhaps memory is the thing that helps make us humane. Memories are all we have left, as time passes and we age, we can look back on our past with those memories we treasure for life.

Dean was sitting on a small wooden bar-stool in the 'Viking Draught' bar. It was now well past midnight, the bar was completely empty except for Dean sitting by himself. The smell of cigarettes lingered in the air, Dean coughed a few times as he inhaled the stale, smoky air.
"Another beer please." Dean said to the bartender as he waved him over. This was Dean's fifth drink, by now his words were becoming slurred.

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We're closing for the night." The bartender put away one of the glasses he had been cleaning with a white cloth. Dean placed a crisp new fifty dollar bill on the bench and walked out the door. The sign being turned around to reveal big bold black letters reading 'CLOSED'.
Dean walked awquardly down the street, legs criss-crossing left to right and every other direction imaginable. Now where did he park the Impala? He couldn't remember. A beautiful brunette walked passed, Dean stopping to get a good look. "Hello, hello, hello. How are ya?" Dean's speech was getting worse by the minute. "Wanna have a good time?" Dean the girl's arse. She couldn't be any older than nineteen.

"You son of a bitch, get off me!" she exploded, and slapped him as hard as she could across the face. Dean's head rocked to the side from the force of the blow, and sent him reeling backwards. His foot catching on one of the garbage bins on the sidewalk, falling backwards into a man who just happened to come walking around the corner.

"Ouch!" he whined tellingly.

"Hey watch were your going!" he said, pushing Dean back the other way back towards the brunette. Who started screaming again at him.

"What do I look like? A prostitute!? Do you think I want to be groped by old men like you? Sicko!" she took another step forward. Dean backing away expecting another slap. His face had gone bloodshot red now from where he had been slapped. But bumped back into the guy he had fallen into. Dean was cornered.

"Excuse me miss, has this guy been bothering you?" The guy was only a couple of years younger than Dean, he had blue eyes. If you were in a dark room, you could use them as a homing beaking, they were as bright as a lighthouse. He looked pretty strong too, but Dean was stronger...when he wasn't drunk that is.

"Yeah, this...freak grabbed my arse! Looking for a quickie no doubt, you barstard!" She spat in Dean's eye.

Dean finally mustered up enough breath to speak, his hand covering the red mark left behind by the girl. "I'm sorry; I didn't know what i was doing. I'm trying to find my car, It's a-a-"Dean's voice trailed off. He couldn't remember what his car looked like!

"Your drunk mate, come on, I'll give you a lift back to my places and you can find your car tomorrow. I'm sorry miss about this guy. I'm sure he didn't mean to grab your arse on purpose." He said, trying to sound sincerer.

"Yeah, well. I guess you're right." She turned back to Dean. "But if you ever touch me or come near me again, I'm calling the cops. You got that?"

"Understood and again sorry." The girl storming off and disappearing around the corner.

"That was close. Anyway, let's get you back to my place. You're in no state to be walking, let alone driving anywhere." The stranger grabbed Dean's left arm and placed it around his shoulder hoping to keep the drunken guy upright. They began walking up the street back past the bar which Dean had originally been in.

"Yeah." Dean chuckled slightly. "I can sort of tell. You don't have to do this you know. I don't want to be an inconvenience." Dean said.

"It's no problem." The guy grabbing his car keys out of his pocket. "I've been out all day; it's me and my wife's tenth anniversary in three days so I've been out buying necessities." They turned right, crossed the road and stopped at a blue commodore. The stranger opened the back seat door and allowed Dean to pull himself in. After Dean had managed to hall himself inside, he closed the door behind him.

The stranger opening the driver's seat door and opening it, a terrible screeching sound coming with it. Dean put his hands over his ears, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. It reminded him of Ms' Cameron at one of his schools he had attended back when he was still in East Texas. He could even picture her long sharp nails clawing the board, the sound filling his ears with a terrifying screech. Once the guy got into the car, he slammed it behind him, this time there wasn't a screech, just one shift glide of the door.

"Thanks for this, I really appreciate this. Is there any way I could repay you?" Dean said, slowly, his head resting backwards. His face slowly swelling up from where he had been slapped.

"Nah, were good." He adjusted the rear-view mirror and turned on the ignition, a lovely purring roar coming from the engine.

"Sorry, I don't think I introduced myself. I'm Dean. Dean Winchester"

"Hey Dean, I'm Mitchell. Mitchell Blake nice to meet you." Mitchell turned on the right indicator and pulled out onto the road. Slowly turning around the corner and out of sight.

- - - - -

Sam paced the around the motel room. Dean had been gone for over seven hours. As soon as he mentioned the word 'Mara' he noticed how Dean froze. Had he come across one of these creatures before? What wasn't he telling him? So many questions were passing through Sam's head and velocity speed.

I guess Dean had a right to be angry at him; lately Sam hadn't been speaking to him much...he had been keeping a lot of things to himself lately. Ever since yellow eyes had died the nightmares had stopped. No more premonitions, nothing, they'd stoped. But since then, there had been this voice in the back of his mind. As if it was calling out to him. Every waking second the voice spoke to him, trying to tell him what to do.

Come on Sam, how long are you going to put up with him? You know what he's like. He's a monster; he's going to hell Sam. And nothing you can do on this pathetic earth can stop that. No spell or demon will help you. Why not just put him out of his misery now. Feel his warm blood slowly pour out over his skin sinking into the ground below. Rip his eyes out of their sockets. Slice his neck open and watch him struggle, watch him try and speak though the blood.

The voice was so real, so convincing. And that's what scared Sam the most. The never ending voice was driving him insane. He didn't know he could take it much longer.

Even in Sam's sleep, it was there, slowly ticking away at the back of his mind.

Now's a perfect chance, he's asleep. All you have to go is grab the gun and shot him, he won't even feel a thing, just put the gun up to his head and squeeze the trigger. He will never know what hit him.

Sam wanted to tell Dean about it. But what was he suppose to say? 'Hey Dean, how are you? Oh by the way, I've been meaning to tell you. I've got this voice in my head saying to kill you.' It was ridiculous. As much as he wanted to tell Dean, he was afraid too. Before Dad had died, he had told Dean that if Sam might ever go to the dark side, to kill him. And if Sam told him this, who's to say he wouldn't?

Sam sat down on his bed, cupping his head between his hands. The time bomb in his head still ticking away. Where could Dean be? He should of been back by now. The motel was situated six miles away from the main town, too far way to walk so it was impossible to go look for him. No doubt he had found a nice woman to chat up. Right now was in a small cheap motel room getting it off with her. Sam pulled himself off the bed and started undressing himself. No point worrying, Dean could take care of himself. But he was worried, not for Dean's sake, but for his own also. But nothing could be done about it now. Sam slipped off his jeans, and pulled on a pair of boxers which he had grabbed from out of his duffle bag which was put under his bed. After carefully placing his used cloths back in the bag, he lay back on the bed and turned off the light. Staring up at the ceiling, he closed his eyes. Hoping, just hoping that Dean was alright.

- - - - -

Sarah was still fuming. The nerve of that guy grabbing her arse like that. What did he think she was? A free meal probley. "With every purchase you get a free-"She stopped there, even the thought of it made her shiver. It must of been four' o'clock now, the only reason she happened to be out was because she had got a call from her friend's daughter Alice. She wasn't sure what to make of it. Alice was only nine years old. She had long black hair with sparkling hazel eyes. She was the spitting image of her mother. She had gotten a phone call from her about forty-five minutes ago, she had been crying. Sarah had taught Alice her phone number if she ever wanted to talk to her. But she never used it. Until tonight that is. She had sounded so frightened, said something about a monster, and that she had heard mummy and daddy scream. Sarah didn't have a car at the moment; her boyfriend had taken it for repairs so she had to walk all the way. The sky was getting a tiny bit brighter now, daylight wasn't far off. She stopped in front of the house. The yellow paint reflecting the light from the street lamps. She pulled open the iron gate and pulled it back behind her. She walked up to the front door getting ready to knock on it, but it was opened by a small terrified child.

"Monsters." She cried running into Sarah's arm.

"There, there. I'm sure everything's fine, where are mum and dad?" She combed her fingers through the child's hair.

"In there room, but they won't answer the door! I heard them scream Sarah.." Alice buried her tear stained face into Sarah's arm. Wanting to get out of the cold she carried the child inside. Putting her on the couch. All the lights were flickering.

"Now, you stay here while I go get mum and dad okay?" She kneeled down in front of Alice and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Can you do that for me?"

"I-I think so.."

"That's a brave girl. Now stay here." Sarah left Alice on the couch, and headed towards Paul and Naomi's bedroom. There room was the last on the right at the end of the corridor. The door was locked. "Hello, Naomi? Paul? It's Sarah. I've just come to check if you're alright." She knocked on the door. No response. "Is anybody in there?" She knocked again, no answer. Okay, something was wrong. She began frantically playing with the handle. Trying to loosen the lock open. No luck, it was jammed, she turned to go back to Alice. She heard a small click! behind her, the door creaking open. She slowly turned, a smell of something cooking drifted from the room. She slowly walked in and turned to the bed. There was Paul and Naomi, the skin melted, smoke coming off them, the hair burnt, blood soaked through the sheets. Sarah rushed out of the room trying to stop herself from vomiting. She rushed to the couch where Alice was still sitting.

"Are mummy and daddy okay?" She asked. But Sarah couldn't reply, she just held Alice tightly in her arms praying that this was all just a nightmare.