Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to smarter and richer people than I.
Chapter 8
May 2, 2005
(- - Bounce, by Danko Jones - -) playing on alarm clock
Sam blearily opened sleep crusted eyes as the alarm radio cut in, the song way too upbeat for this early in the morning, but that was the point he guessed. Jess was standing in front of the closet looking at the clothes hanging there. Sam allowed himself a moment to appreciate the view.
He loved those little shorts she wore to bed.
She must have sensed him looking at her cuz she turned her head and smiled at him. The smile growing into something else, she ran and leapt onto the bed – and him – pinning his arms to the pillow and lightly nipping his neck. "Happy birthday, Baby," she purred into his ear.
"It is too early in the morning to be my birthday yet," Sam groaned as Jess slid against him.
"I set the alarm clock to go off early," her lips were traveling up and down the stubble on his jaw.
"Why the hell would you do that?" She pulled away and winked at him, biting her bottom lip and smiling expectantly. "You're evil," Sam moaned. "You know that right?"
"And devious," she grinned. "You have no idea what I have planned for you tonight." She slid against him again eliciting another groan out of him.
"And what do you have planned for right now?" he cocked an eyebrow at her.
"I feel like being creative," she whispered into his ear.
"Give me two minutes in the bathroom and I'll do whatever you tell me to."
"You've got one minute… make it count."
"I love when you get bossy."
"Go."
Sam slid out from the covers and trotted into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Birthdays rocked.
They were both home for the evening – a luxury as they were in the midst of finals fever and they should be studying instead of leisurely celebrating. Jess had picked up some of Amber's mom's Beef Tamales from the restaurant for him – his favorite, as Lucia Juarez honestly made the world's best tamales. They were sitting at the candle lit kitchen table, a bottle of white wine between them. Jess was a California girl, and loved the vino. Sam didn't care for it much, being a beer man, but kept his mouth shut and drank it anyway. Tipsy Jess was an adventurous and generous Jess.
The meal over, Jess took the plate from in front of him and dropped it in the sink. Coming back to the table, she fell across his lap, wrapped long arms around his neck and kissed him softly. Pressing her forehead to his, she whispered, "I love you Sam."
Sam slid his arms around her waist, holding her gently and returning the kiss. "I love you too, Jess. What did I do to deserve you?"
"You're a good man." The world's bluest eyes burned into him as she said it and it was with practiced discipline that his face didn't twist with guilt at the statement she's said more times than not. She didn't know, and she would never know. He's killed, he's hurt, he's stolen; he's done so much bad in his life that the balance would never be restored no matter what he did from now till the end of his life. Dean's final words resounding in his head 'we're poison…'
"…And you're an angel." He pressed a kiss to the soft spot under her jaw to distract himself from the normal self-deprecating track his thoughts usually took.
"This coming from the guy who never went to church a day in his life six months ago," she kidded.
It was true, they'd never gone to church growing up – it wasn't in their lifestyle. But since the awfulness of the mortifyingly-awkward Thanksgiving weekend, Sam was now a regular at the Sunday services with Jess and her family. At first he went out of a feeling of obligation, now he found it peaceful and reassuring to be a part of that congregation. And standing there with Jess holding his hand while she sang the hymns gave him a feeling almost akin to serenity.
"Happy Birthday Baby," she kissed him again, deeper and with more conviction.
A sudden realization hit him. This woman loved him, knowing that there were secrets he was keeping from her. This woman chose him to build a life with and by hell or high water, he was gonna give her what she deserved. A growl built deep in his throat as he slid his hands into her curls and claimed her mouth with his. Standing and scooping her up bridal style, he carried her to their room.
He didn't know where he was.
It was dark and dank and fetid. The air was close and acrid with urine and blood and fear and the combination sent his stomach churning. He didn't know how he got here. The last thing he remembered was Jessica panting in his ear, and now he was in a brick alleyway – God knows where – and there was a prickling feeling on his skin… like he was being watched. He whirled around in place, scanning the darkness for another presence, looking up to find there was no end to the dirt and soot crusted brickwork that he could see. The walls went on and on into the blackness. No stars, no moon, no streetlights, he could only stand there in a fight-ready crouch, waiting for whatever was out there to come at him. And there was something out there – the hairs on the back of his neck were primed and ready because of it. Animal instincts forged over tens of thousands of years of evolution, plus hunter's instincts honed over a lifetime – there was something here.
Slowly, Sam backed up. Silently sliding his feet backwards until he hit the wall, knowing that fighting against a wall was a bad idea, but not having another choice other than to reduce the angle of the impending attack. Whatever was out there could now only come at him from in front of him or from the sides – not from behind.
Or from above, he thought idly. He had no idea what was out there, it could be perched on the wall above his head like a giant spider for all he knew.
Keeping his back to the wall, he took a step to the right, then another. He didn't know if this direction would get him out, but what other choices did he have? It was left or right, and right sounded okay for the moment because left felt bad. He had to find a weapon, and he needed room to fight and a little light would be nice too. There was no light here, only a murky non-light that defied definition. Just black heaped on deeper black and only his senses on over-drive to guide him.
Step, slide. Step, slide. Step, slide. Whatever was here with him was keeping pace with him – he could feel the evil reaching out to him in a smothering embrace.
Step, slide. Step, slide. Step, slide. He could almost feel hot breath on his face, sour and vile.
Step, slide. Step, slide. Step, slide. There wasn't any wall behind him now, just empty air. He was out of the brick alleyway and was at a crossroads. Three directions to choose from, all looking the same as the one he'd just left. Which way to go? Go back the way he came and face whatever evil was in there, or one of the other three and try his luck in an attempt to escape.
You need a weapon idiot, he scolded himself.
Sam took the alleyway behind him… the air didn't feel as thick this way. Keeping his back to the wall, he sidestepped along in the dark, nerves flayed raw with anticipation and adrenaline, waiting for the evil sonofabitch to attack cuz it was still there. Still shadowing his every move, but it seemed to have let a little more distance creep in between them. Sam didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. Maybe there was something down this way that was worse than the monster stalking him. And the thought of something worse than the absolute evil he'd sensed breathing down his neck in the darkness almost made his knees give out. He couldn't give up though. He wouldn't give up – not without a fight cuz he didn't know how to lay down and die. His father's stubborn-ass pride and determination ran through his veins too. He would never give up.
An image of Jessica floated to the front of his mind, her golden hair fanned out on a pillow, her face serene with sleep, and the image gave him strength. It started a fire deep in his gut that spread out to the rest of him to chase the pressing darkness away. He let the image of Jessica rest on his shoulders like a golden mantel, a shield and a source of power all in one. His love for her fueled this power, as it spread to grip his heart and set fire to his veins.
The alleyway opened up again, only this time it wasn't a crossroads with another direction to pick. This was a huge and cavernous room, empty and dark and his soft footfalls echoed around the blackness to come back at him and slam into him like bass thudding into his body from standing to close to large speakers. His heartbeat was roaring in his ears as he tried to see into the obsidian void that had opened up in front of him.
The thing that had been stalking him – or herding him – was no longer there, but the sense of dread increased ten-fold. Something beyond evil was in this space with him.
Sam woke up with a start.
He shot straight up, soaked in sweat and gasping for breath. He tried to fight his way free of the blankets that had wound their way around his legs. Kicking and clawing, he didn't hear her angel's voice at first, so intent on escape that he was.
"Sam!" her voice slammed into him with the force of a slap, but his cheek stung, so maybe she did physically slap him. "Sam! Stop it! Wake up!"
He couldn't see. He was blind, or he was still in the black cavern and the presence was bearing down on him.
"Sam!" Warm hands were gripping his cheeks and shaking his face. "Look at me!"
His eyes shot open, wild and roving and Jessica – beautiful Jessica – was gripping his face and her features were twisted in worry and fear and shock. Sam wrapped heavy arms around her and sank back onto the mattress, dragging her down with him and holding on for dear life. Her hair fell across his face to tickle at his skin and the fragrance of the golden curls brought him back from the grip of where ever he'd been.
"You're okay," he murmured into the honeyed locks. "You're okay."
"Of course I am," she sagged against him and stroked his cheek. "That must have been one hell of a nightmare, Baby."
Sam was still gasping. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and the vestiges of the adrenaline overdose was making his heart jack-hammer so bad he thought his ribs might explode. Swallowing hard and gulping down Jessica-scented air, he released his death grip on his girlfriend.
"Sorry…" he gulped, burying his face in the crook of his elbow, trying vainly to recapture some semblance of calm.
"What was it about?" she asked softly, curling into his side and tracing circular patterns over his heart. "You were kicking and screaming for a few minutes before you woke up. You had me terrified."
"Sorry," he apologized again. "I don't remember much…" That wasn't a complete lie. "Everything was just black." That was the truth. Gasping for breath, the images of his nightmare started to fall away from him, like sand in a sifter. Only the largest parts of the dream remained with him. The monster that was hunting him in the dark, and the smoke wreathed shadow in the giant room. He couldn't see the shadow, but he felt it – an image superimposed on his brain of a man-like shape made up of deeper and darker shadows than the ones around it.
Sam had seen some crazy shit in his life. He'd come across creatures most people's worst nightmares couldn't touch. But the malevolence that wafted off the Shadowman had permeated itself into his soul. It sunk into his pores and he could taste the evil in the back of his throat like a fetid carcass.
The Shadowman's dark laughter had chased him screaming into the surrounding darkness.
Four days.
It had been four days since his birthday and that first nightmare. He was finally starting to sleep again, instead of the scattered and scarce hours here and there he'd been getting the last couple days. He looked like death warmed over with the dark circles under his eyes and he felt hollow. Like there was nothing in him at all. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep the echo of that maniacal laughing pierced him in the heart and made his stomach revolt and his flesh crawl.
But on the fourth night, he was in the alleyway again. He was backing up from the beast-creature, took a different direction at the crossroads than he had before, ended up in a labyrinth of alleys, and still wound up in the cavernous room with the Shadowman.
He had actually fallen out of the bed when he ran from the cavern, his legs locked in the twisted blanket on the bed and his chest and arms on the floor scrabbling to pull himself free. Jess had leapt out of the bed in panic, hands to her mouth as he was lashing out with his fists before he realized that he was in his apartment and Jessica was looking at him in terror. He slumped against the floor, chest heaving and heart racing and he couldn't breathe.
"Sam?" Jess squeaked, taking a small step around the bed towards him. "Sam, are you awake?"
"Yeah… sorry…" he gasped, clutching at his chest and pulling the sweat soaked t-shirt away from his skin. Jess took another hesitant step towards him and as he was trying to pull his legs clear of the blanket he realized that there was something wrong with her.
He looked up at her and she was still holding her hand to her mouth. "Jess…?" He yanked his legs free and rounded the bed in three long strides. "Jess, what happened?" He was instantly afraid that he might have said something in his delusional screaming when she shrunk back from him slightly when he reached for her hand. "Jess – what the hell?"he cursed when he gently pulled her hand from her mouth.
Her lip was split and bleeding.
"Oh fuck Jess," he breathed, guilt and shame washing over him. "Did I do that?" He reached a tentative hand towards the pink lips he loved so much. "Oh fuck Jessica… I am so sorry."
"You didn't do it on purpose," she winced when he touched his fingers to her swollen lip. "Your elbow got me when you fell out of bed."
"Still… I…" And Sam had nothing to say to her other than to stammer apologies. He felt like shit. He had hurt her – the one person he never wanted to hurt ever.
"Another nightmare, Baby?" she rested her warm hand on his chest over his heart, and he knew she could feel it pounding away beneath her touch.
"Yeah. Same as last time."
"Everything was dark?" she snaked a hand around his waist and rested her ear against his heart.
Sam let his arms wrap around her shoulders and held her close. "Yeah. Everything was dark and I was running."
"You haven't been sleeping too well the last couple of nights – since the first nightmare. Is there something wrong?"
"If you want to analyze my dream Jess," he tried to joke, "then you've been taking too many Psych classes."
"There has to be a reason if you've had the same nightmare twice in a couple days," she insisted.
There was no way that Jessica was going to understand a nightmare like this one, and he wasn't about to tell her about the Shadowman and his dog – or whatever the hell it was. This was more than a nightmare, and he knew it – it was too real. So he lied, like he always did. "It's just finals stress Jess," he kissed her forehead. "I'm in the dark and running because I'm stressed about the finals and my scholarship is riding on my marks."
"Now who took too many Psych classes, Freud?" she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.
"Psych wasn't so bad. There was this really pretty girl in my Psych class last summer…"
"Yeah? Did you ask her out and that's why it took so long for you to make a move on me?" she gave a tired laugh against his neck and Sam felt a fresh wash of guilt ride over him.
Her beautiful lips…
"I'm sorry I elbowed you," he buried his nose in her hair and breathed deep. "I am so sorry."
"Not your fault Sam," she reiterated, poking him in the ribs lightly. "But the next time you take double gainer off the bed, forget the windmill arms, okay? You lose points on form for that."
Two days.
On the second night, Sam was in the alleyway again. He took different turns than he had previously. He still wound up in the cavern. He still woke up delusional and swinging. Luckily, Jess had gotten out of the way pretty quickly and no more damage had been done to her, other than the worry about his nightmares and the lack of sleep they were both getting.
He had to get a grip.
This couldn't go on. He felt like he had the work 'Freak' stamped on his forehead and Jessica was looking at him with increased levels of alarm. He knew he looked like hell, and he tried to cover it up as best as he could. But there was no hiding the haunted look on his face, he couldn't hide the grayish pallor his skin had faded to, and the dark circles under his eyes were beacons to those around him. He joked around to Luis and others that it was Finals that was doing it to him, and they laughed it off because Finals made everyone a little nuts.
Sam had taken to studying late. Jessica would go to bed and he'd still be at the table with his books, claiming that he'd be along soon. He was lying to her again of course. He would stay up with his books, just looking at the pages and not really digesting what was written there – only he seemed to be absorbing it through osmosis or something because he was doing really well in all his classes and tests. It was like there was more room in his head the last couple of days and school was getting easier instead of harder. He knew that was wrong. He should be a wreck with the pathetic amount of sleep he was getting – and granted he looked a mess – but his head was amazingly clear.
So he stayed up with his books, trying to stay awake so that he didn't dream of the alleyway or the Shadowman and his dog. And when that became impossible, he fell asleep at the table or on the sofa so that he didn't wake Jess up, or worse, hurt her again.
But you can't fight off sleep forever, and when the dreams found him the next time, he would be ready because he wasn't running anymore.
He hadn't slept in his bed in days. He would always slide in an hour before the alarm clock would go off so that Jess wouldn't think anything was amiss. The dreams hadn't returned but he knew that they would. He had scoured the internet for information about dreams and came up with a lot of crap. Things that were written by people with too many initials after their names and no experience with the supernatural, because this wasn't a normal dream or nightmare. He knew that as sure as he knew his own name. Whatever was happening to him was more like Freddy Krueger on crack cocaine.
Sam had analyzed every part of the dream he could remember. He made the decisions on what directions he took at every juncture. The beast followed him, pushing him further and further but never coming nearer, and then he disappeared as soon as Sam hit the cavern. It was only debilitating fear that kept Sam from going in one direction, and that was straight for the beast.
So Sam was gonna suck it up and take the bastard down with his bare hands. Screw the search for a weapon and light and room to fight – there wasn't any of that in the maze-like alleyways that always lead to the cavern and the Shadowman. He was going straight for the sonofabitch this time.
So help me God.
It had been a week since the last nightmare. It was almost as if the dreams were scared to come to him now – as if they knew his plans. Jess was worried about him. The way she looked at him the last number of days was haunting his non-sleep. The worry and concern ate at him like an ulcer, carving little bits of him out and making him feel even more hollow. He was about to call the whole thing off and start trying to be normal again, instead of the act he was putting on for Jess and her friends. Maybe the dream was all in his head, and it was his messed up mind playing tricks on him after all. Maybe his decision to confront the beast was enough to trigger whatever switch in his head that had been flipped in the first place.
Maybe it was over… but Sam couldn't kid himself with wishful thinking. It wasn't over and he knew it.
He didn't stay up pouring over his books that night. Instead, he curled up in front of the TV with a B-rated horror flick that he knew Jess would hate but was one of Dean's favorites. Bruce Campbell… Enough said.
Jess curled up her nose at the evil Tree rapist, snorted, "Are you seriously watching this?"and called it a night, leaving him alone to 'watch' the rest of the movie. Sam stretched out as much as he could on the sofa, his legs dangling over the edge and a throw pillow behind his head. He clasped his hands over his chest, and closed his eyes.
Come and get me bitch.
He was back in the alleyway.
It stank as much now as it did the very first time he was here. Urine and blood and fear and darkness and evil. He swallowed down the fear that was bubbling up in his stomach and threatening to spread out to the rest of him. He clenched his hands into tight fists and raised them to a ready stance, glaring into the darkness that engulfed him.
"Where are you?" he called into the black. It was the first time he'd voiced anything in this dream-world that wasn't a scream. Sam took a giant step to the left – he'd never gone left before as the beast always seemed to be to the left. "I said, 'Where are you?' you sonofabitch!"
There was a low growl to his left. It made the hairs on his neck stand up and his stomach drop and the fear bubbled and roiled up against his heart and squeezed tight.
No.
Sam took another step to the left, towards the creature.
(- - Animal I have Become, by Three Days Grace - -)
"I'm not running this time," he whispered into the darkness. "So let's get this over with you evil fuck." And he charged headlong into the darkness and the monster that was waiting for him.
The beast ran and Sam tore off after it. He couldn't see but his instincts were on overdrive and he ran full tilt into the black, sensing the creature just ahead of him. He didn't care if this was a trap. He didn't care if the beast turned on him suddenly to attack him. He was running after the thing that had hunted him, and that. Felt. Good.
Anger and rage built up in him as he ran. A power filled him and the clarity of his mind over the last week made everything sharper in the darkness. He could feel the beast dying beneath his own hands, and he was gonna enjoy making it happen.
And extra burst of speed shot out of him, and he was lunging at the fleeing monster. His arms wrapped around a furry chest and the pair of them went crashing into the brick lined ground. He could feel the dirty brickwork tearing and scraping up his arms, biting into his side but he didn't care. The evil was in his grip and he wasn't letting go. They wrestled furiously, growling and snarling and digging into each other as they rolled through the filth and decay. The creature bit at him, clamped down on his arm with razor teeth, and Sam wailed on it with his other fist. He couldn't see. He was as blind now as he'd ever been here, but it didn't seem to matter. Whatever he was fighting was an animal of some sort. A dog or cat-like creature but Sam was leaning more towards dog. Black dog… Hellhound… he didn't know. And he didn't know how you killed either with your bare hands. Black dogs needed silver bullets in the heart… Hellhounds… well… you couldn't kill Hellhounds with anything.
But he fought anyway. He kicked and hit and tore until they rolled over a precipice and started to fall. He landed with a thud on the floor of the cavern, the beast landing heavily next to him – unmoving.
A light went on from somewhere. It was like a light shining up through deep black water, diluted and gray and not much help. But after all the darkness he'd endured, it may as well have been a spotlight shining brightly into his eyes.
And then he felt him. The Shadowman.
He was standing between Sam and the light, making his silhouette more absolute, but not adding anything to facial features. He was still made up of shadow and Sam spat out a wad of blood, struggling to regain his feet cuz now he was gonna go after this sonofabitch too.
The Shadowman started laughing. The deep rumble of absolute evil reverberating through his head and tearing at his soul. "You're not ready to take me on boy," it chuckled and nodded at the carcass next to him. "But nice job on that one. You fought back sooner than I thought you would." Sam could feel the shadow smiling at him. "You've just become my favorite contender."
"What do you want with me?" Sam demanded, fists clenched and teeth bared.
"Not yet Kiddo," the Shadowman smiled. "Not yet. Why don't you take some time to bask in the glory of defeating your greatest obstacle?"
"What – your pet?" Sam sneered. "I've been up against worse than that sorry excuse of a guard dog."
"He's not mine Sammy-boy." The shadow smirked. "Why don't you take a look at him? Admire what you've done?"
Sam's eyes flitted quickly to the dark mass on the ground, not wanting to take his eyes off the Shadowman for even an instant.
His stomach dropped and his heart jumped into his throat, cutting off his oxygen supply and choking him.
It wasn't a beast lying dead on the ground.
It was Dean.
The Shadowman disappeared in a wisp of smoke and an echo of laughter resounding around the cavern.
And Sam started screaming.
A/N: I've been waiting to get to this part of the story. Thanks to you guys for waiting out the fluff ;D
