Okay, you asked so nicely to go on, and as I'm in good mood today... I post up another chapter... and just for you to know, the last part is a extra-cookie for you. I couldn't decide if I leave you not knowing what's with Sam, or if I let you see him... okay... I'm not telling you, you have to read it ;)
Lee
For a moment Sam waited to get accustomed by the smell down here. It smelled like blood, and dead and fear. Swallowing hard, he slowly reached the trembling kid, dropping the light of his flashlight, to not blind the child.
As he was only one step from the boy, he crouched down in front of him and whispered a gentle: "Hey!" The kid pressed himself farther away into the corner and Sam's heart almost broke. "Hello buddy! I was looking for you!" There was a small sob and Sam could almost feel the fright emanate from him. "I saw your mommy on TV… Your name is Sammy, right? I… my name…" he stopped as he felt a prickly feeling moving from his head down his spine. Before he could finish his sentence a piercing pain shot through his head, blinding him and with a cry Sam…
...was back in the hospital-room. Watching his brother sleep, while one hand who didn't belong to him was resting on Dean's chest, enjoying the heartbeat it felt, his other hand was raised to deliver the final blow… NO!… he was lying on the floor, not able to move, watching the man with the white coat rise his hand. Looking in terror as his own knife was coming down in a shiny bow, hearing the sickening sound of metal meeting flesh… a gurgle…and then… blood… blood… he couldn't breathe… he couldn't breathe… he just inhaled his own blood… he was drowning…
...with a gasp Sam was back in the small compartment under the ferry's floor. Shit! He stumbled to his feet, grabbing for the little boy and hoisted him up. Feeling the child cling to him, he was about to climb up the ladder, as something dark rushed down the trapdoor, pushing hard into him. He lost his footing and in a reflex he curled around the small body of the little boy. With incredible force he connected with the metal-wall of the small room. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was the ear-piercing scream of the lchild in his arms.
…
He was beyond enraged and furious. This maggot had dared him! This… pathetic, small human. Him! Adze! A demon-god! He was the nightmare of little children. He could bend man's will! And this one… he would pay! He'd suffer! He'd be the one who'd watch them die. He'd kill his brother… He'd come for the child again! And the last thing the hunter would do ist beg for his life to end!
He looked down at the crumbled form of the young man, listening to his and the childs heartbeat, knowing it rushed the blood he desired so much through their bodies.
He'd come back for them. First he would need a new host. He snickered one last time, turning around, he rushed back out of the prison, closing and locking the trapdoor.
He stopped at the prone body of his former host, watching him for a moment. He had liked him very much. But he wouldn't be of help anymore. Slowly he reached down with his smoky-fingers, burning the flesh as he caressed the face, watching the blood trickling down, pooling under the head of the man.
Withdrawing his fingers he straightened. He was hungry, and to feed he would need a new host. With a roaring laughter he left the ferry; dirt and sand couldn't keep his spiritual form bound. He would find a new meat-suit, and he would taste the blood of the hunter again.
...
"I'M-DEADLY-SERIOUS-ABOUT-THIS!" he felt the eyes of people resting on his back, and quietened down a little. "Listen. They only were following it. You know them. They know their job. This son-of-a-bitch knew what they were. I guess it knew right away. It played them, just waited for them to split up… and then – bang – it took the next best opportunity and tried to kill them." He listened for a moment as the voice on the phone rambled on about never to go unprepared, always know what you're dealing with, and shook his head in anger and disappointment.
"Damn you, John Winchester. Who is their dad? You or me? Move your ass, because I can't be at the hospital keeping Dean save, while trying to find Sam who went after that killer alone!" again he listened to the words of John Winchester. Than snorted unamused: "Yeah, sure. Dean can look after himself! He's lying in a freaking hospital-bed with a cracked skull!" Someone made a shushing noise at him and Bobby turned around shooting daggers at the person. "Yeah. We need palm-oil and baobab-powder. Santeria! Yeah, I told you it's a nasty fellow! See ya in a few!" he clapped his cellphone shut and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, thought better of it and redialed Sam's number, waiting for him to pick up, but again was redirected to his mailbox. Frustrated he returned to the private room and Dean's bedside.
...
Sam's head and shoulder hurt. That was the first thing he was aware off. Then he could hear small sobs and a body pressed up against his chest. The little boy! His eyes snapped open, and he couldn't suppress the groan as he felt the darkness starting to dance around him. "Uhhh, Gawd…" he muttered. The sobbing stopped and he could feel the small, trembling body against him tense up. "Sammy?" He asked into the darkness, while pushing himself as well as the small boy up into a sitting position. "Are you okay?" He felt a little hand on his face, and then the arms of the child wrapped around his neck, embracing him. Also it hurt, Sam wrapped one hand around the boy's midsection and his other came to a rest on the back of Sammy's head, returning the hug, trying to provide as much comfort as possible. "It's okay, I gotcha now. You're safe with me, okay? You're safe with me."
He rememberd the bang from the trapdoor as it had shut close and knew they were trapped. He had to get them out of here. Fast. Bobby didn't know in what danger he and his brother were in…
TBC...
Requests? Comments? Critic? Anybody? ;)
