Chapter 6
Sam's heart was pounding madly as he hurried to his brother's side. He had no idea if he was surrounded by demons, like in his vision; he didn't care. The only thought on Sam Winchester's mind was of his brother, if he was safe. Struggling to steady his shaking hand, he felt for a pulse: and was relieved to find it, strong and steady. Dean was alive.
"Thank God," Sam breathed as he gently shook his brother to revive him. A moment later, Dean's eyes fluttered open. He looked incoherently for a moment, gathering his bearings, before recognizing the blurry form before him. "Sam?" he mumbled, wincing as his sudden movements sent a searing pain along his body.
"Yeah, it's me," Sam answered in a hushed tone. "Can you walk? We need to get the hell outta here before whatever grabbed you comes back for round two."
Dean nodded, wincing again as Sam helped him to his feet. "Don't need to tell me twice."
Slowly the two made their way through the darkness, Sam trying to adjust his pace for his injured brother. The progress was slow, but each painful step brought Dean further away from his encounter with the demons. Sam scanned the shadows for any sign of demonic activity, feeling confident that perhaps his last vision had been inaccurate. He had found Dean by the very rock he had seen, very much alive; maybe it was a sign that something good might actually come out of this shitty job. As they walked, Sam questioned his brother about his attack.
"I don't know man," Dean answered when his brother inquired about the ambush. "It happened so fast. The funny thing is I should've been able to fight back; hell, we've been attacked by demons before, and none of 'em's ever gotten me down. One of 'em drug me into the woods and the other was about to finish me off when this new guy with these weird yellow eyes stopped him. He was one creepy mofo, let me tell ya."
Sam froze at the mention of the final demon. "Wait, did you say that last demon had yellow eyes?"
"Yeah, kinda like the one in your vision."
Sam shuddered; the few traces of optimism he had left vanished as quickly as it had come. If Yellow Eyes had attacked Dean, and had let him live for the time being, that couldn't be a good sign. But then again, why hadn't they attacked when Sam had found Dean earlier? Did the demon have plans, and did they involve him or his brother?
"Fuck."
"You tellin' me."
"Well, guess this means we should leave Sister Marie alone for the night," Sam mumbled, inadvertently toying with the crucifix which was still in his pocket. "Forgot to mention, I actually found the necklace while you were out, total fluke if you ask me."
"You found it?" Dean arched his eyebrow, incredulous. "I'm out cold, god knows where, and you stop and find the damn necklace? Thanks, love you too."
"Jerk."
"Bitch."
Sam rolled his eyes. Even when the boys were in danger, Dean still had time to make fun of him. The young man sighed, thinking just how close he could have been to no longer hearing the playful insults; he shuddered, and brushed aside the thought. No time in wallowing in what could have beens. They needed to get the fuck out of French Fort Cove, pronto.
"We may as well gank her then."
"What?"
"I said, since we have the crucifix, we may as well get rid of our evil spirit. It is what we do, after all."
"I can't believe, after all you've been through, you still want to finish the job."
"Damn straight," Dean opined, his voice stronger. "Since when has a simple knock to the noggin prevented you from finishing what we started?"
Since I saw a vision of you dead, Sam thought, but he kept it to himself. Instead, he reluctantly agreed. The brothers pulled out the necessary items for item purification and set to work. If the boys had been lucky, the spirit would have attached itself to something which would burn easily, like a scrap of clothing, an old letter, or anything which would easily and cleanly burn, eliminating the ghost permanently. Unfortunately, our headless spectre had decided to latch on to a piece of jewelry. Needless to say, it would not be a matter of lighting it up, ghost go poof. Instead, the Winchesters had opted to perform a purification ceremony, cleansing the item and hopefully banishing the spirit in the process. Generally used to eliminate poltergeists, the brothers were wary of its effectiveness in eradicating a vengeful spirit, but it was the only option they had at the time.
Dean quickly got the necessary items ready as Sam pulled out a warn volume and opened to the bookmarked page where the cleansing ritual had been written. A salt line had been formed (God I hope the wind doesn't disturb it, Sam thought as he dumped the contents of the box of Windsor on the ground), the cross placed in the center. They were ready.
Sam read the verses, all the while keeping an eye open for Sister Marie, or the Yellow Eyed Demon, or any other demonic entity. Sure enough, the Winchesters were face to face with the Headless Nun, armed with her scythe, and ready to pounce.
"Hurry, Sammy!" Dean shouted, pulling out his sawed-off and aiming at the spirit. Within seconds the sister had vanished into the night. Undeterred, Sam continued to read, just as the wind disturbed the salt line and nun materialized behind him, ready to strike.
"Sammy!" In a flash Sister Marie had attacked Sam from behind; the young man let out a surprised cry and dropped the book. Dean didn't hesitate; in seconds he grabbed the discarded volume and hurriedly flipped through the pages until he found the spell. God I hope I don't fuck up the Latin, he thought as he read through the text and wished that he had Sam's knack for extinct languages. As the older Winchester read, Sam was struggling to fight off his ghostly assailant. With one foul swoop he was tossed like a matchstick against a tree, where he slumped down, limp as a rag doll. Fighting off the urge to rush to his brother, Dean finished reading and slammed the book shut, praying that it would work; and thank God, it did. The darkness was briefly cut as the spirit emitted a faint, shimmering light, before disappearing for good.
Dean didn't waste any time. As soon as Sister Marie's apparition had vanished, he rushed to his unconscious brother, checking anxiously for a pulse or any sign of life. Fortunately, other than being slightly concussed, Dean concluded that his brother would have a nasty headache, but would otherwise be fine. Nothing that whiskey or an Advil wouldn't take care of. As if on cue, Sam groaned and rubbed his aching temple. "What theā¦"
"Good to hear you talking Sammy," Dean grinned as he helped his brother to his feet. "Lucky for you, your cleansing ritual seemed to have done the trick. Looks like this joint is going to have one less headless ghost hanging around."
"Well, that's one less thing for us to worry about," Sam agreed as the brothers headed for the exit. It had been a long night, and both were looking forward to a hot shower, a few beers, and a nice, warm bed. Sam felt that they had got away easy, considering how foreboding his premonitions had been. Get out of here? The sooner, the better.
"Not so fast." The boys halted as they stood face to face with a man with blondish grey hair, a devious grin, and a pair of pale yellow eyes. The eyes that both Winchesters had seen more than enough of within the past few hours.
"Shit." Dean's voice sounded distant, even though the man was standing a few feet away from Sam; because the youngest Winchester's heart had stopped beating for a moment. He stood boldly before the demon, with only his hazel eyes betraying the fear that seemed to pierce his very soul. To his right, nearly hidden in the shadows, was a large rock; and in horror, Sam realized that the one in which he had found Dean not an hour before, though similar, was not the stone from his vision. As if to confirm his fear, Yellow Eyes nodded wickedly at Sam. "Look familiar Sammy boy?" Dean stole his brother a confused glance and the demon chuckled. "Oh Sammy, I guess you forgot to mention to your dear older brother about the last vision you had, huh?"
"Sam, what the fuck is this wack job talking about? What vision?"
But before Sam could reply, the demon, with a flick of his wrist, sent Sam hurtling through the air, for the second time that night, against a tree, pinning him there. Oh, he was going to make his brother watch, because what Yellow Eyes was about to do next would easily tear the young Winchester boy apart.
"Sammy!" Dean limped as fast as he could to his brother, but it was too late. With another simple flick Dean was pinned to the rock, unable to move. He could only watch as the Yellow Eyed Demon slowly made his way over to him, toying at the blade of a dagger with the tip of his finger.
"Dean, Dean, Dean," the demon murmured, a sickly smile spreading across his face. "I may have plans for Sammy, but I have been savoring this moment for a very long time."
"Do whatever you want with me, just let my brother go," Dean hissed, anger flashing in his green eyes. The demon laughed as he approached. Let Sam Winchester go? The idea was preposterous.
"Well, here's the thing, Dean. We, shall we say, can't do that. You see, your brother is very special. He's been chosen since that night in the nursery when little Sammy was still in diapers. We need him for our own little plans. But, you see, there's just one small problem." Closer still, and Dean could feel his hot breath against his neck. The feel of it made him physically ill. "You see, that problem is you. With big brother in the picture, there would be no way Sammy would ever be able to just accept his fate. But, with you out of it, you just never know, do you? And we can't have annoying older brothers butting in to our plans, now do we?" And, as a helpless Sam watched in horror, the demon plunged the knife into Dean's chest.
