The GPS on Sam's phone had them arriving to Napoleon in thirteen hours, but Dean liked to call those estimates a challenge. Tonight it was just a ticking clock, a timer, on how far behind they were, how long Andrew had been held captive, and how every second passed he could be dying for all they knew. There wasn't much Sam could do in the passenger seat. He hadn't seen Dean in such a state of urgency in since he lay dying in the mud after failing to finish the trials. That freaked him out a little.
Dean hated feeling useless as he was now. All he could do was drive as fast as he could. They were somewhere in Missouri and the sun was rising. They had wasted a few hours at the bunker packing and gathering as much intel as possible before loading up the Impala and making their mad dash across four states. Now they were both here, feeling useless.
Tired of not being able to do anything, Sam pulled out his phone from his pocket and a notepad from the glove box. He wrote down all the names from the hunters who had contacted him about the djinn activity including Krissy and Aiden. Dean looked over at his brother while they were at a stop light shortly after, "What are you doing?"
Sam talked as he wrote, "The djinn activities that we were informed of were all in Northwestern Nebraska. Don't you think Napoleon and that are a little out of the way of each other, and now that I'm thinking about it, the calls from hunters passing by? A little too coincidental."
"So what?" Dean asked.
"I'm calling up those guys, then going to do a follow up with Krissy which, if this what I think it is, we are going to seriously owe her one."
Sam dialed the first number on his list.
/ / /
Andrew fought through his nightmare. He fought through The Dip even though it was burning his animated self. He was going to swim his half burned body back to any shore line, expect where Judge Doom stood.
He hadn't had this nightmare since he was a kid. Why was he having it now? He fought though. He knew something in the outside world was wrong. The shore was getting farther and farther away and he was getting exhausted. He knew that if you died in your dream you died in real life, or something like that Nolan movie his mom loved said. He had to wake up right now. The shore looked like reality, just a big, dark looking wall. He swam to it and held his hand out as far as he could to touch it.
His eyelids slowly pulled themselves apart. He was aware that he was still in that chair, but he was grasping the arm of it something fierce, like breaking-his-fingernails-in-half fierce. He became of that pain along with the dullness of others. Andrew was also painfully aware that he was freezing. His head was still pounding, but he raised it anyway. His vision was a little clearer now. Why there was a dental chair in the dilapidated warehouse he would never know. That was something for those cheesy torture, horror movies. He got a good look around the place and saw that he was alone. There were a few holes of light from the roof, blacked out windows which a few were broken, and then a slit of vertical light coming from the far end of the building. That would explain the cold. His restraints were a little loose, probably from him thrashing in his nightmare, and he took that opportunity to pull his right hand free. It hurt to do so but such was the price. Andrew would do that later. Once his right hand was free he then unleased his left, which allowed him to pulled the needle and line from his arm and free his legs. Slowly he stood up, slightly regretting it but he pressed on toward the light.
Andrew didn't have a clue what he was doing, he was working on basic instinct. That was something John's journals preached, follow your instincts. The first thing was to get free and get out, find help. He hoped there was someone within walking distance, if not he was probably going to have to hoof it, probably run if he had to. At least it was daylight. Step by painful step on numb feet he made his way to the door, panting the whole way. It was a struggle to breath, like something wasn't allowing him to take a full breath, but that would be fixed later.
He was within a few feet of the door, a few feet away from freedom, and the door opened from the outside. It was Thing One and Thing Two, who both looked surprised and pissed. Thing One didn't say a word, but rushed Andrew. Thing One landed a blow to Andrew's stomach knocking him down completely to his knees, coughing up some kind of liquid. "You guys," he wheezed, "You both suck." Thing Two yanked Andrew up from the ground, feet dangling, up by his neck. Thing Two with his luminescent eyes growled, "Looks like we are gonna have to up the ante."
Thing Two dropped Andrew with a little force to put him down hard. Thing One grabbed him by his arms, too weak to fight back now, and dragged him across the floors. Thing Two followed behind and spit, "You play football, kid, 'cause there are still three quarters left." Thing One grabbed Andrew's hands and raised them above his head, though he was fighting to keep them down. Thing Two threw a punch to the left side of Andrew's face nearly knocking him out.
Think One took his hands and tied them tight. Andrew was aware that he was being raised up from the ground and felt the stress on his wrists, but not aware enough to cry out in pain which it obviously caused him. It was hard enough to breath already.
Thing Two looked Andrew in his half-closed eyes, "The hanging is for the added effect, kiddo."
What did that even mean, he thought. It didn't matter though. His eyes closed and he was underwater.
/ / /
"Okay, sorry for sending you on that wild goose chase," Sam hung up his phone. He had an earful of a profanity-laced, one-sided conversation from Krissy about how she hated having her time wasted.
Dean had heard every phone call and was getting pissed at what he was hearing and what they had both concluded.
They. Got. Punked.
They got the runaround, conned, and by god they were paying for it. They weren't on their game and it resulted in Andrew getting kidnapped.
"The moment we land in Napoleon, I'm kicking ass," he grumbled,
"As you should and I will assist," Sam added. "I should have looked into that case better."
Dean rolled his eyes, "Sam, now is not the time or place to even think about blaming yourself. We both got shafted, and if anything, I should be more pissed! They took my son, dammit!"
"Okay, that isn't helping, since he's my nephew as well."
"Well, we have to deal with this somehow, so right now, I win."
That didn't make any sense to Sam, "What?"
"I don't know," Dean replied. He paused before asking, "So do we have any theories for why djinn are fucking targeting us again?"
Sam shook his head, "I got nothing. We haven't been on a djinn case in over two year and they had no mates as far as I knew."
"Well that's comforting."
It was almost nine in the morning now, and they had just crossed the Illinois-Indiana state line.
/ / /
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He fought for the surface, but he wasn't getting any closer. He wasn't going down either. It was like he was bobbing in the water, he thrashed in the water, fighting whatever kept him there. This was his nightmare after he had nearly drowning in his teens, on a family trip to the lake house his grandparent's had rented not far from Kilkenny. It was enough to scare him, that was for sure, but now he was terrified.
He fought, he swam, he went up and down looking for anyway out. He knew he was spending too much energy doing so, but he had to try something. This nightmare was felt all too real. He stopped what he was doing and floated for a moment. He tried hard to remember why he was even physically exhausted at the moment.
He was hanging in the middle of everything in the real world. People moved in their sleep. He wasn't going to go down like this. They had to keep him alive for something.
He stopped fighting.
"Get him down now!" he heard from Thing One. Andrew started to come to as he felt the tug on his wrists and something lift him up by his waist. "Check him, 'cause if he dies, we're done."
Andrew was more or less coherent enough but enough to form a makeshift plan. They obviously can't kill him, so that was in his favor. As much as he hated his nightmares and wanted to fight them with all he had, it was better to give in; it got him out of them faster since his nightmares were mostly about scary ways to go into demise.
He was aware that he was horizontal now on the cold concrete floor. He still had the same old injuries from before but now he added some serious arm and shoulder strain from being hung by his wrists. If he was going to survive this he had to play along. Dean would find him, hopefully.
"What is his temperature?" Thing Two asked.
Andrew felt a cold hand press against his forehead. It was icy to the touch, but he did feel warm. Probably his body fighting this torture, he assured himself.
"A few more degrees and he will be gone," Thing One said.
"Let's keep him there for another hour, after that we'll dose him up again, for maintenance."
Thank you, Andrew wanted to say. They granted him a little bit of mercy. He could hear them move about him as he lay there on the ground. Andrew was more aware of what was happening to his body. Breathing was a lot of work and it was impossible to take a deep breath. They were short and shallow, like something was inside of him keeping him from filling his lungs properly. Everything else was a hazy thought. Definitely a concussion, but there was something else, but darkness was starting to pull him in.
Andrew gave in. This time it was different from the others. He had his own thoughts to keep him company, to keep him somewhat sane. He heard that he was allowed a brief moment to go off in his own secure world in his mind. What was funny was that he was hearing in his head an old 311 song, the one that played during a street fest where he met Hannah. My name is volatile, I've been this way a long while. I'd surely like to rest but the energy gets the best of me. It's been a wild ride, I wouldn't change a minute. I can't slow down inside, guess that's why I live it.
He cherished this snippet of his lack of lucidity. As far as he knew, he might not get one ever again.
Sorry it took so long to update. Things have been nuts, per the usual, but then add in OU Homecoming Alumni Festivities I haven't had the mindset to sit down a write. Let me know what you think and throw suggestions at me. You guys keep me going!
