Hey-thanks to everyone who has reviewed lately-it's really keeping me going as we near the ened of this story. But don't worry! a few more chapters to come (I think) Anyhoo, enjoy xxx
Chapter 9
Sam groaned as he levered himself up into a sitting position, planks of wood and pieces of plasterboard crumbling over his back at every movement. He could feel several bruises already forming over his body and everything ached as he forced his shaking legs to hold his weight. He looked around, still coughing dust from his lungs, searching for signs of movement elsewhere in the rubble.
"Dean? Dean? Bob-" Sam's hoarse voice cut off mid sentence as another fir of coughing jarred through him. He bent double, clutching his side in an attempt to stop the blinding pain spiking through him with each sucking breath. Why was it so hard to breath…?
A noise to his right made Sam spin round, wide-eyed, bloody hand stretched out before him as if in warding.
"Sam, that you? Jesus! You alright?" Bobby stepped out from the cloud of dust shrouding him, concern written all over his ashen face. Sam found the older man's strong hand on his shoulder, piercing eyes roving over his face and body in shock.
"Yeah, you?" Sam replied, ignoring the look on his friend's face as he straightened up, brushing dust from his unruly mop of longish brown hair. He cast his gaze around the fallen ruins, trained eyes piercing the gloom in search of his brother.
"'m good." Bobby growled, still squinting at Sam.
"Where's Dean?" Tell me he' s okay, he's gotta be okay…
"Sam?" A shaky voice whispered from the corner. Bobby and Sam exchanged a momentary glance before simultaneously jumping over piles of fallen roofing. It was not a good sign that Dean's voice was so quiet. Sam saw Dean's foot sticking out from under a massive pile of wood and began heaving it off of him frantically with the aid of Bobby.
"Dean! You alright? Let me look at you." Sam breathed, ignoring the stabs of pain lancing through his chest, thorny vines wrapping around his lungs, squeezing, squeezing...
"I'm …just… peachy." Dean ground out between clenched teeth, his stomach muscles tightening to allow him to sit upright. He could feel Sam and Bobby's eyes boring into him and could picture their expressions before he even looked up; Bobby would be shaking his head in fond exasperation and Sam would be pouting. He wasn't disappointed and had to hide his smirk as Sam raised his eyebrows and Dean fully expected him to cross his arms over his chest indicating that he could do this all day. Dean threw his arms out, "Fine! I have a bitch of a head ache Sam, happy now?"
His little brother's lips pressed together in a frown that spread over his face, eyebrows pinching together over the bridge of his nose as he looked at Dean's still sprawled form.
"Really Sam. I'm fine-just a few scratches." And a concussion…
"Yah and a concussion!" Sam snorted, squatting down before him.
Dude! How the hell?! Dean shook his head. Sam could read him like a book.
"Ouch! What the hell are you doing?!" Dean said, swatting away Sam's hand. His brother merely swatted him back, silencing any protest with the look, and continued to press on his pounding hairline.
"You're bleeding a lot man." Sam worried his bottom lip. Dean merely looked pointedly at Sam and he looked down at himself, suddenly realising why Bobby had looked so horrified. His shirt was soaked through with blood on one side and it had dripped down onto the waistband of his jeans.
"Alright. Point taken." Sam conceded. He held out a hand to help his brother to his feet, catching him as he staggered forwards. Dean pushed away grouchily, eager to prove he was alright if it meant Sam would stop fussing.
"You boys might wanna come and take a look at this. We got a problem." Came Bobby's deep growl.
Wordlessly the Winchesters made their way over to the older man, crouching down beside him. Wandell lay unconscious before him, held in place by a pile of debris, blood trickling from her cheek. Bobby pulled at her sleeve and exposed a small circular burn with a line through one end.
Sam unconsciously rubbed at the old scar on his forearm and Dean's hazel eyes widened in recognition, remembrance.
…I've learned a few tricks since then…It's a binding link!…
"How do we get rid of it?" Sam asked uncertainly. They didn't have anything to burn it from Wandell's arm…
To his left Dean reached a hand behind him and retrieved his Bowie knife. "Like this." He said, leaning in.
"Wait!" Sam shouted, staying Dean's hand with his own. Dean's eyes flew to his face as did Bobby's and he hastily continued, "Are you sure it will work? I mean what if it wakes her up? We're not ready for Meg yet."
Bobby scratched a hand over his scruffy beard, looking to Dean with a shrug.
"Can't hurt to wait-she doesn't look like she's gonna be comin' to any time soon." He reasoned.
Sam looked to his brother seeing the conflict warring within him; his jaw clenched rhythmically and his eyes darted uncertainly from Wandell's arm to his knife. How long could they conceivably wait around for Meg to show up? Would it be safer to wait or just get it over with? After a moment he seemed to come to a decision, his eyes taking on a resigned determination.
"Alright. But let's figure out what we're going to do fast."
Sam nodded and ran a hand over his mouth in thought whilst the eldest hunter meandered his way around the rubble, making his way to the Impala. When he returned five minutes later the brothers were hastily painting another Ring of Solomon on the floor around Wandell's limp body. He raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Hey, it will at least slow her down-even if she does know how to get out again!" Dean said defensively. Bobby nodded wordlessly, snaking over to them, an ancient volume under his arm.
"You sure you're alright Sam?" He said suddenly. The youngest Winchester was coughing violently again.
Sam wiped a trembling hand over his mouth and gave a weak nod.
"Shit! Sammy!" Dean exclaimed, hurrying to his side big-brother mode in full swing. He snatched Sam's large hand in his own, a gasp of horror escaping his lips as he took in the spots of blood dotted there.
"It's fine, really, it's-"
"Shut up Sammy!" Dean shouted over him, panic in his voice. How had he missed that?! He had to get Sam to a hospital!
"Dean! It's just a scratch, see…" He indicated a cut on his lip that kept splitting open, "Believe me-I would tell you if I thought I was bleeding internally!" There was a note of gentle sarcasm in his voice.
"Then what's with all the coughing?" Dean said suspiciously, not willing to take an chances with his brother's health. Not after…
A slight blush coloured Sam's cheeks as he looked between Dean and Bobby.
"I-eh-I breathed in dust…sorry. I didn't mean to worry you." He said sheepishly.
Dean visibly sagged in relief, hazel eyes bright despite the dim light. He punched Sam lightly on the arm, "Don't do that again, man." He said, trying to hide the tears in his eyes. What the hell was wrong with him?!
"Well then, come here and take a look at this…" Bobby beckoned the boys over and they hunched over his yellowing book finding themselves staring at a page covered in sketches of a variety of protective circles. Bobby's calloused finger pointed at one in particular.
"We already tried a Ring of Solomon Bobby. Twice. We know it doesn't work." Dean said in confusion.
"I know that wiseass. Look closer." Bobby instructed.
Sam was already peering at the book. "There are extra symbols…what do they do?"
Bobby nodded appreciatively, glaring pointedly at Dean before answering.
"They combat that little Latin phrase our lady's so fond of." He said dryly giving a nod towards Meg. A smug smile creased his craggy face, "She won't get out of it this time", he assured.
Sam and Dean grinned at one another and began adding the extra symbols to the ring already painted on the floor.
As Sam straightened up he swooned a little and pressed a hand to his side with a grimace. He let out a groan as he released the pressure a few moments later. He turned away surreptitiously checking his wounded left side and frowned further; it was bleeding less heavily but it was slightly swollen. Infection was setting in. He gave a curse under his breath.
He turned back to Dean, wondering if he should tell him or just get the job done. His father's stern voice echoed through his head deciding for him. They needed to end this. End Meg.
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See, I was nice:) technically that doesn't count as a cliffy! As always feedback is welcome. Thanks for reading! xxx
