This chapter was unbearably hard to write. Hope it was worth it!
I've gone back to correct the majority of mistakes I had in previous chapters. I'm so glad Word is back on my computer. I needed spell check more than I'd like to admit. Rotten typos and lack of attention span that kept me from proof reading properly.
Be sure to leave a review, those of you that do are my heroes!
Sam's eyes skimmed what little portion of the road was visible in the dim headlights. Silence enveloped the interior of Dean's precious Impala, undisturbed by the usual sound of his music. Sam glanced gloomily at the empty passenger seat to his right, remembering the familiar image of Dean sleeping off a hangover.
He gripped the steering wheel and tried to focus on staying on the winding road instead of the growing hatred inside. He knew Dean was in a warehouse. He knew there were multiple rooms; at least one was separate with peeling wallpaper and stone cold walls. Ash drew a blank on supernatural activity almost everywhere. Process of elimination wasn't much, but it was all Sam could to. Up to twenty possible warehouses each day had begun to take their toll on what little optimism he managed to keep for his brother's sake. His eyes narrowed against the sleep that threatened to pull him into the cover of trees and off the nearly abandoned back road to unconsciousness. He shook his head and blinked away the sticky feeling of drowsiness.
The unsettling silence Sam had endured for days that felt like months was interrupted by the sharp and intense sound of his cell phone ringing loud enough to wake the dead. He snatched it from the dashboard, hesitating just long enough to see the black letters glowing through the pale light of the slender screen.
His heart could have stopped.
Dean.
He veered to the right, simultaneously dropping the phone. Headlights blinded him as he struggled to regain control of the Chevy he had allowed to drift into a previously empty lane. He didn't bother to ease the car to the side of the road, but pulled just far enough off the path to slam on the brakes and bend to snatch the phone that lay beneath his feet. His hands shook as the cell emitted a second ring.
"Dean?" Sam's voice was frantic as he shouted a second time, "Dean!"
"Howdy, Sam," a voice not belonging to his brother sneered through the line.
Sam's free hand found its way to his mouth and remained there for a moment to prevent him from choking on the lump in his throat before he forced himself to respond through clenched teeth, "I swear to God if you â"
The sound of someone grunting in pain reached his ears before he could finish his sentence. His hand rose to cover his mouth a second time.
"It's a little late for threats."
"Son of a bitch," he almost growled in response. Sam's insult went unknown to the eldest Winchester who fired the same retort at virtually the same time.
Dean clenched his jaw through the pain in his now dislocated shoulder. He tried desperately not to move in order to minimize the aching as his weight pulled harder against it.
"How 'bout that?" The demon spoke into the phone with his eyes drilled on Dean's, "Seems I've stepped into an echo."
He hesitated for a moment before assuming Sam had no further comment on the particular subject and placed a hand roughly against Dean's back. Dean couldn't hide the pain that sent shock waves through his body as he sucked air through his teeth to keep himself from screaming.
"I expected that comment from Dean," he removed his hand with a smile to his captive, "which he so eagerly delivered I might add, but from you?" He clicked his tongue as if he were scolding a small child.
A tear threatened to escape Sam's tightly closed eyes at the sound of his brother's anguished cry through the phone. "Please stop," he managed to whisper, shaking in his animosity for the thing he was willing to plead with.
"Stop?" The heavy weight of mockery dripped from the demon's voice. "Do you think this is a courtesy call?"
Sam swallowed the hatred in his throat to keep himself from causing more harm to come to Dean. "What do you want?"
"Just an opinion," the threatening tone in his voice seemed to lighten, "on something Dean and I have been discussing." He paused as if expecting Sam to make another comment before continuing. "You see, Dean has committed an atrocious act against a fellow human," he grinned, "and seems resolved in his decision, despite its degree."
Sam remained silent, barely glancing at the truck that sped past, momentarily lighting his sullen appearance.
"Aren't you interested in knowing what exactly it is that your tarnished hero's done?" He smiled at Dean's scowl, "It's a doozy."
Sam rested his head in his hands before swallowing. "What?"
"Dean here took a woman, an average lady destined to have two point five kids, a demanding job, and an abusive husband. He snapped her neck and ripped her throat open like a hinged door, spinal chord through peachy flesh and all. He literally ripped her head off with his bare hands â or came close enough anyway," He seemed somewhat amused yet somewhat angered by the successful purging of his spawn.
"I don't believe you," Sam spat in anger.
"Doesn't stop it from being true now, does it?"
"He wouldn'tâ"
"It's true," Dean's familiar voice, tainted by an eerie echo of the demon's spoke, "I killed her, Sam, I killed her."
Sam's molars didn't part as he shook with anger. He gripped the wheel with his free hand, unaware of how white his knuckles had become from such a tight clasp.
Dean scowled at the demon's words. His shoulder, set back in place, throbbed dimly. The pains he felt were a distant concern as he listened to the thing he hated most in the world taunt his brother with his own voice.
"But you know what it's like to watch the light go out in someone's eyes though, don't you Sammy?"
"You bastard," Dean bared his teeth, unable to keep himself quiet any longer. He knew how much it hurt Sam to remember the ruthless act he committed while possessed. The smile on the demon's face only grew.
"You should have been able to stop yourself." Sam could hardly take the harshness in what only sounded like Dean's voice, even if he knew it wasn't really his brother's. "Dad even held him off," the demon continued to assume Dean's identity, "but you just couldn't handle it, could you?"
"I swear I'll tear you to shreds for this!" Dean's threat was just loud enough for Sam to hear through the relatively clear connection, but he couldn't help but look to his lap in anger and shame without saying a word in protest to what the demon accused.
"Do you know how many times I've risked my life to save your pathetic ass?" The amusement in his voice was hidden by the sudden burst of anger, "Do you know how close I've come to losing it?" He paused to silence Dean's enraged shouts of protest with a wave of his finger. Dean's jaw clenched as his mouth was clamped shut by an invisible force. He continued to writhe in fury against his restraints.
"You're weak, Sammy. You couldn't save Jessica," his tone became even crueler, "You can't even save yourself. And deep down, you know you can't save you brother, no matter how desperately you really need him," he paused for a moment, "I'll even tell you where he's at, but you know you won't make it in time."
Dean's vision swam at the thought of Sam coming to the hell he was in.
Don't come.
"Where?" Sam finally spoke, unsure of whether he was angrier at the demon or himself. He knew it was a trap. He was sure he could hear Dean telling him how stupid he was to go, but he had to. He listened ruefully to the demon's instructions. He swallowed the insults he had for the continuous use of his brother's voice as he spoke once more.
"By the way, Sam," the demon grinned to Dean, "how'd you like that last vision?" He snapped the phone in half and let it fall. He turned to face Dean's wide-eyed and angry expression, fully aware of what Sam's vision always depicted, "Don't worry, Dean. Sammy's day dream of a vision is nothing compared to the real nightmare I have planned for you."
