The words were not spoken in Latin. Dean couldn't tell what language Missy used as she began her recitation. He just knew it couldn't be good. He wondered if Sam knew, but his brother's face was betraying nothing. Sam was pissed and wearing his stubborn look, the one he frequently wore whenever their father was around. Even if it killed him, Sam was going to fight Missy tooth and nail. With his abilities he might have a chance, a slim chance.
As far as Dean could see it would come down to who could actually tap into Sam's abilities first, and in that scenario Missy was far more experienced. Sam had no idea how to use his freaky gifts. Unfortunately, if Sam failed - and it was likely he would - Dean was toast.
At some point the dog had come to sit between them at Missy's feet. Its face was nearly level with Dean's and at such close proximity he could not only smell its breath (unpleasant) but see a faint yellowish gleam in its eyes. The sight both frightened and infuriated him. How many had Sam said there were? Two-hundred? If the demon who killed Mary Winchester walked the Earth, there must be more out there. How many were still trapped in Hell, like Kokabiel had been before he was partially freed? What exactly was going to come through that portal?
What would happen to him if Kokabiel was successful in possessing his body?
None of the answers were forthcoming.
"Hold on, Sammy. Don't let that bitch use you!"
Missy hesitated, but only for a second. A quick glance at Lisa and her will crumbled. Dean wondered if he couldn't use her obvious reluctance as an opportunity to get her on his side, but by the time he decided to try, it was too late. Her eyes were closed. She had gone into trance, and like Sam when the visions struck him, she was unreachable.
A moment later Missy reached out her hands. Dean could see them shaking, and he could see a faint, greenish light begin to form around them. The light was reflected in Sam's eyes as he watched her left hand drift closer to his face. Her progression was slow, until, like a striking cobra she suddenly plunged her hand down to his forehead. Dean jerked his arms against the chains.
"SAM!"
Sam had been moving his head, trying to escape her, but the instant she touched him his body shuddered and his struggles ceased. His expression shifted from one of determination, to one of fear. His mouth fell slack. His eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. Dean heard him moan.
"Let him go!" He pulled his hands against the chains looped around each wrist, hoping he could find some slack – enough to squeeze his hands through to freedom. A glance back at Sam revealed not Sam, but Missy's right hand hovering over his own face. "Don't you touch me! Don't! Don't..."
Her hand fell upon his brow. He was immediately filled with cold, a cold so shocking to his system all his attempts to free himself stopped abruptly. He was paralyzed. The freezing cold sensation was painful; he wanted to scream but could not make a sound. There was no sound, only silence, and darkness. He could not see.
Not at first.
A moment later there was light, and vision. He could see and hear again, but what he saw and heard made no sense to him. Visions came fast and furious, voices blended together into an incomprehensible babble. Only now and again was something made clear, as if the stream of information hit a speed bump, slowing enough for him to lock on to it.
Bright spring sunshine. A whistle blows. Boys call to one another as they race across a brilliant green field after a ball.
"Winchester! Move your ass!"
Bump.
His father's face, twisted in hurt and anger. Dean's face, miserable, full of fear as John thrusts out a hand and points to the door.
"Get out then if that's what you want. GO! But don't think you're ever coming back, do you understand me? You walk out that door Sam and you aren't coming back!"
He feels his heart beating fast in his chest. He feels anger, fear and betrayal as he grips the handles of his duffel tightly in his fist. There is no other choice. He wants out that badly...
Bump.
She's sitting at a table in the library, her blond hair falling forward to partially obscure her face. It's early morning, and the sun is shining down through a window high in the wall above her. The light pools around her, illuminating her golden hair, her white blouse, making her look as if she were glowing from within. When she raises her head to look at him her beauty takes his breath away.
"You're Sam, I presume."
"Uh...yeah. Yeah. How did you know?"
"Grace said you were tall. Hi, I'm Jess."
"Hi. I'm...oh."
She laughs, and he's...
Sam. These aren't his memories. These are Sam's!
Bump.
The gun floats in the air between them. Dean's gun. Max's power. It's cocked and ready to fire as it turns toward the frightened woman.
"Max..."
Dean is there, stepping between the woman and the gun. "If you want her, you have to go through me first."
No. No. No. No.
Max is unreachable. He's mad. The power has driven him insane. "Okay," he whispers.
It's fast, deadly fast, and gruesome. The back of Dean's skull is shattered when the bullet exits, taking bone and brain with it to decorate the wall in some obscene Pollock-like manner. He never knew what hit him. His eyes are wide in surprise as he falls to the floor, dead long before he hits it.
"NO!"
Dean arched his back as he felt the surge of power cross over from his brother. Gritting his teeth, he groaned in pain. His head felt like he had been shot, like it was about to explode. With effort he managed to look over at Sam who lay motionless, barely conscious, his eyes still rolled back in his head.
"Sam..." he gasped, and felt the echo as his own voice returned to him through the bond Missy had formed. "Sammy..."
Missy had released them, but the conduit between them remained. Dean heard the dog whine as she placed the hand she had removed from Dean upon its head instead. As soon as she touched him his pricked ears fell back against his neck, and he growled softly.
"Soon, love." Lisa said quietly.
Missy reached out toward Sam.
This time, when her fingers touched him between the eyes, he let out a sharp cry of pain, and Dean, on the other end of the line, felt it too. A moment later he felt something else, a presence, some almost painful tickling sensation that filled his mind. It grew stronger and stronger. He could sense another consciousness barreling toward him through the link between himself and his brother – and this time, it was not Sam's.
It attacked him, suffocating his mind, his consciousness. It separated him from his body, imprisoning him in some dark corner of his own head from which he could not escape. From this distant point he could hear himself scream, and when the scream turned to laughter he knew for certain he was no longer in control. Fear and pain drove him toward the only option he had left.
Darkness rose up around his mind like the cold waters of a haunted lake, drowning him.
