Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any characters affiliated with the show. Now, on to the story!
Chapter 10: I Am Death
Sam was, for some reason, eleven again and stuck in a well.
Slimy stone walls rose up above him, uneven and jagged in construction. Dirty water sloshed around his now bony knees, murky green and covered in a layer of floating dead leaves and scum. It stank something awful, and the water was so opaque that he could barely make out his reflection in it. Sam wasn't too concerned about the questionable sanitary aspects of the water though, as he was more focused on why exactly he was a kid again and the corpse inhabiting the well with him.
It was a lady, that much he could tell through the decomposition. Beyond that, he couldn't make out any distinguishing features save for what were probably brown bangs and a pair of lurid green glasses that dangled from one ear, the lenses cracked beyond repair. Her glassy eyes stared in his general direction, the clouded irises showing that she had long left the land of the living.
Sam shied away from her, water sloshing around his knees. She was so bloated and decomposed that skin was peeling away from her, and he could see maggots crawling across her skin. It was obvious she'd been here for a while.
Ugh. Why is she here? And why am I here?
He held out his hands, which were now much smaller and less calloused, the faded nicks and scars he'd accumulated over the years from training reduced to just a few recent, pink ones.
Makes sense. Training didn't get intense for me until I was around eleven or so.
He wasn't sure why he was eleven, stuck in a well with a dead lady, or completely aware that the whole situation was just a vivid dream, but Sam knew that he wanted out. There was something off about everything, something that made his neck prickle and his gut twist in warning. The strange desaturated aspect of the light that drew attention to the grays and greens of his surroundings and the distinct lack of a sky above him (it was all just white up above) didn't help settle his nerves at all.
The only way out is up, I guess.
Scrabbling for purchase on the rough stone, the boy managed to wedge his fingers into a crevice. With a grunt, he began to pull himself up, but before he could go any further, a voice drifted down.
"Who are you?"
It was a warbled voice with different pitches and tones overlapping each other, making it impossible to place. Despite the ambiguity of it, there was an undercurrent of evil to it that made Sam's skin crawl.
I have a bad feeling about this.
Sam craned his neck to look up at the top of the well, where the hooded figure he had chased was leaning over the edge and peering down at him. The white light that suffused everything at the top of the well made the edges of his dark aura fade, but it didn't touch his hidden face at all. A ring caught his attention, and Sam managed to make out a blue stone before the killer spoke.
"A kid. Or rather, someone masquerading as a kid," the killer hissed as he tilted his head. The hood didn't move at all, and his face remained stubbornly set in shadow.
Sam gulped, fingers tightening around the stone he was clinging to. Suddenly, he had a feeling that this was no regular dream, from the dead woman stuck in the well with him to his age.
I've got to get out of here, but how?
"Who are you?" he retorted, voice cracking (he hadn't gone through puberty yet at this stage). That didn't stop him from infusing as much exasperation as possible into his query.
The hooded figure simply stared for a second before he made a strange huffing sound. Sam realized after a few seconds of it that it was supposed to be a laugh.
Oh fuck.
"Me?" he asked as his hands went to pull back his hood. "Why, I am Death!"
The hood fell, and Sam instantly regretted any desire he had had to see past it.
A swirling mass of black resided where his head was supposed to be, pulsing and writhing with malevolent energy. There were no human features on his face at all, but with wide eyes, Sam watched as a slit appeared in the general area where a mouth should have sat.
Shit.
Sam's breath hitched as the slit expanded to create a gaping maw. He wanted to scream because the aura felt disgusting and evil even from this distance, but it was stuck somewhere in his throat. It was probably for the best, what with the rancid smell of the dead lady and the well. He was genuinely surprised he hadn't puked yet.
Gotta get out, gotta get out, gotta get-
From behind the hooded figure, a set of black arms that matched his inhuman head stretched up over him, fingers impossibly long and slender. They were so dark that looking at them against the pure white background made his eyes hurt. At this point though, his eyes were the least of his concern. His head was killing him, and if his gut twisted into any more knots Sam was sure he would puke, regardless of the Winchester self-control he'd been employing the whole time.
Sam instinctively knew it was the aura making him feel this way. Dean's made him feel protected and secure, Gabe's made him feel warm and content, and this one...this one made him feel sick and scared.
If only Dean or Gabe were here. Sam thought frantically as the hooded figure laughed his strange laugh, the sound bouncing around in his skull. He couldn't even move; he was so paralyzed by the disgusting aura.
A mental image of Gabe's aura came to mind, bright and golden and warm, and then Dean's green supernova of strength. The memories were pale comparisons to the real thing, but the brief thought of them managed to overcome the nauseating effects of the evil aura long enough for Sam to regain his mental facilities, if only for a moment.
Neither of them are here, but that doesn't mean I still can't shake off this bastard.
Sam slipped away from the wall, a renewed sense of determination overcoming the sickness the aura made him feel. He could do this, he wasn't powerless; he was smart and knew how auras worked-
Above him, the arms turned into tentacles and then shot down at him in hissing tendrils of black. The writhing limbs blocked out the white, leaving the well blocked in dark shadows.
Smart's good, but moving right now would be good too!
There was nowhere to go but down. Sam took a gulp of air and only hesitated briefly before diving down, the cold water swirling around him as he attempted to escape the dark aura.
...
The murky water around him extended far deeper than it should have. There seemed to be no end to it, and it seemed the further he went, the darker it became. Sam supposed it made sense since he was dreaming, but how long was he supposed to swim? His headache had gotten even worse, if that was possible, evolving into some sort of a migraine that throbbed behind his eyes in beat with his heart.
Books are in disarray. Crumpled pages dangle from damaged bindings, torn and ripped with no regard for the printed words they held. Some are stained with blood, crimson drops falling from a pale hand. Dead.
He could sense the dark aura behind him, and Sam struggled to swim faster. The images flashing through his mind weren't helping. What the hell were they?
Blue, worn carpet. A knocked over chair, a bumped table. Someone's heavy bag falls to the floor. She's dead, dead, dead.
The pain in his head seemed to fall away with each flashing image. What was he seeing?
Smeared makeup. Hands wringing themselves as painted lips speak, dark nails chipped. A metal chair scrapes across a floor. Smoke lingers in hazy wisps. Paranoia. Trapped.
A tentacle brushed his ankle, the motion sending a stab of fear through his heart. The images were coming faster now as the water swirled around him, suddenly free of filth and silt.
A duffel bag is unzipped. Inside is a laptop, and only that. Everything is static and color until a red flash drive hidden in the seam of the duffel reveals its secrets. Secrets, secrets, so many secrets.
The water seemed to lighten in front of him, even as behind him it was shadowed by the tentacles still trying to grab him. Dark green was fading into a deep blue.
Tires screech. The scent of rubber is strong as an engine roars. Sirens wail. A hand is tangled in his jacket, his feet dangling outside the door. Racing heart, pumping blood, and wild adrenaline. The chase is all there is.
Sam's lungs were burning. Could he drown in his dream? He was running out of breath-
Fire consumes all. Orange, yellow, the choking black smoke that clouds everything. Wood crackles and pops. A cry for help, a slumped body. Where was the exit? He knew this place.
He couldn't feel the presence of the tentacles anymore, and the water was now blue. Just a little more-
Red eyes glared at him from dirty jackets.
Blue was fading into white-
A whiteboard is angrily wiped clean.
Was he swimming up?
The table is dejected; they have been rejected.
Or was he still going down?
Dark eyes glare beneath a furrowed brow, older than they're supposed to be.
The water suddenly gave way to open space, and Sam fell through space, images flashing by in sporadic bursts, too fast to comprehend properly.
Sapphire, gold, an evil stone. Were those voices whispering? It sounded vaguely familiar, ancient and full of power.
Twisted, you have it all twisted. A snap of fingers, a flare of gold eyes.
The ocean roars, the people sleep. No, that wasn't people, that was-
A familiar bedroom, long unused. Rough voice, he did it for your own good. I did it for you, I did it for-
Sam woke in the kitchen, facing the direction of the living room.
He blinked, almost convinced he was dreaming before deciding that no, he wasn't. He could feel the cool tile beneath his bare feet, and after checking his hands, found that he was nineteen again.
How the hell did I get in the kitchen?
The sky outside was gradually lightening, but it was still dark enough to let the college student know that it was sometime in the early morning. He was suddenly hyper-aware of the faint sounds of the city, combined with the gentle rumble of the heater somewhere in the wall and the buzz of the refrigerator behind him.
Shivering as the faint sheen of sweat cooled on his skin, Sam ran his hands through his hair and tried to figure out just what exactly happened.
Flashes of the monstrous aura from his dreams made his stomach twist with nausea, but he managed to hold back from throwing up. Just thinking of the slimy aura was affecting him, and the younger Winchester inhaled sharply before searching through his mind desperately for something else to focus on.
It was no surprise really that he chose to latch onto the mental image of his brother's aura. In desperate times, Dean had always been the one he had gone to, and the only person he felt he could truly rely on no matter what he did or was going through. Sure, they bitched at each other and sometimes failed the other, and they disagreed strongly on the subject of John, but they were brothers and close ones at that. When he was younger, Sam had been genuinely confused whenever he learned that people weren't close to their siblings, because he thought all siblings were supposed to be close. He had learned over time that his relationship with his older brother wasn't exactly the norm, probably due to the circumstances of their home life. After all, Dean wasn't supposed to know how to cook full meals before he was 10, or give medicine and made sure he made it to school.
Thinking of his brother's supernova aura helped Sam to calm down, and a few minutes later he was thinking much more rationally and didn't feel half as panicked as before. Already, much of the finer details of the dream were fading. Checking the time on the stove clock(it was 5:30; just great), the college student decided that sleep was a lost cause and that he might as well start the day with a cup of coffee.
As the coffee brewed, Sam made a bowl of cereal with some strawberries (Lisa was a true godsend) and sat on the breakfast counter with his back to the living room. The shadowed living room made him a bit nervous, as the dramatic shadows the furniture made reminded him of the dark tendrils that had tried to catch him back in the well. Really, the resemblance was downright creepy.
Rationally, Sam knew there was a distinction, but he still kept his attention away from it. He was also ignoring the instinct practically screaming at him to turn on as many lights as possible. Sam was not a scared 6-year old afraid of the dark and the monsters beneath his bed. He was fine.
The kitchen light was turned on a few moments later. He had to be able to see to make his breakfast, that's all it was.
Once the coffee was done brewing and he had finished his cereal, Sam returned to the conundrum his dream had presented, and the mystery of how he got to the kitchen.
He must have had a bout of sleepwalking, but Sam had never done that before to his recollection. Perhaps the intenseness of the dream triggered it? The last thing the college student remembered was doing his work at his desk, and suddenly he was out like a light.
All right, so I sleepwalked because of the lucid aspect of the dream. Maybe.
The dream itself was what really bothered him though. There was something almost...prophetic about the flashes of images he had seen while he had been swimming. They had gone by so briefly that Sam wasn't sure he even remembered all that he had seen, but something told him that they were all important in some way. But how? Already, they were fading; there had been so many, but some of them still stuck out at the forefront of his mind. He pushed them aside though, as there was another part of his dream that he was really worried about.
Sipping his coffee, Sam cautiously cast his mind back to the well, unconsciously tensing as the memory of the dark aura.
He wasn't sure of much, but he knew for a fact that somehow, that had been the killer and the same person he had chased a few days ago. He had been wearing the same gray hoodie and had the same ring on his left hand. Sam had managed to see the ring better in his dream and was pretty sure the blue stone was a sapphire. Why the ring was important was a mystery, but once again, Sam had a feeling it was...somehow.
The lady in the well was also a mystery. He hadn't been able to recognize her; she was so decomposed, but the glasses had stood out and felt vaguely familiar. How many people had bright green glasses frames?
Sam had been a kid in his dream as well, though he thought he knew the reason why for that. He looked quite different as a kid, mainly because he had been so short and skinny, and also because he pretty much wore whatever hand me downs he got from John and his brother. His pre-puberty appearance, along with his oversized clothes, led to him looking quite different than what he did now. It was the ultimate disguise, which meant that somehow, his mind had seen the need to hide his identity from the hooded figure.
Maybe if he recognized me, he would have tried to kill me. After all, I don't think that well was mine.
A snort escaped Sam. He was assuming that his dream was actually real in some sort of manner and that the killer somehow was really in his dream.
That's ridiculous. That can't be possible...can it?
Sam shifted uneasily on the counter. He could see fucking auras around people, and Dean was insanely strong and fast. It'd be hypocritical of him to brush off something like this as impossible since he and his brother were living impossibilities. Still, something like this was hard enough for even him to comprehend and accept. Dreams that weren't just dreams?
"What're you doin' up?"
Sam nearly had a heart attack, and the only reason he didn't spill his coffee all over his lap was that he had managed to sense Kevin's sleepy aura just before he had spoken.
"Jesus Christ Kevin, don't do that!" Sam hissed as he turned to look at Kevin, who was leaning in the kitchen doorway. He looked rough with the dark circles under his eyes and his atrocious case of bedhead.
"Sorry," Kevin said as he yawned. "I thought your superhuman senses would've...would've told you I was here..."
He yawned again, and Sam smiled slightly. It was a well-known fact that he was practically impossible to sneak up on, even though various people had tried their best over the years.
"Want some coffee?" he asked, earning an affirmative grunt from his roommate.
'God yes. I have to go to campus so early today," he moaned, opening the fridge. "Three papers due by next week."
Sam hummed in empathy before snickering as Kevin did a visible double-take upon seeing the full fridge. He even stumbled back and gasped dramatically, a hand clutched over his heart.
"Is-is this food I'm seeing?" he gaped, rubbing his eyes as his aura flared in surprise.
"Yup. Lisa did us a solid." the younger Winchester answered, smirking at Kevin's astonished reaction. The boy had hung out with the theater kids for too long back when they had been in high school.
"She's an angel," Kevin uttered seriously as he took in the contents of the fridge, "A fucking blessing upon this earth. I might just get through this week."
"Going to the library? Cause if you are, I'll tag along," Sam asked as he finished the last of the coffee, and Kevin nodded as he pulled out some yogurt.
"It'll be good to have a study session. I plan on finishing at least one paper before my 8 A.M," Kevin said brightly before grimacing, "8 are so fucking brutal."
Sam frowned as his friend began to prep the coffee machine. That was now the second time Kevin had cursed, and while Sam wasn't concerned with his friend's use of foul language(he used it far too often to complain), Kevin only ever used it when he was extremely stressed.
"Where were you last night?" the younger Winchester asked, keeping a careful eye on Kevin's aura. It was now its usual forest green, intercepted with splashes of yellow that reminded Sam of sunlight filtering through a thick jungle canopy.
Kevin paused in his yogurt devouring, his aura turning a mottled shade of green that swirled anxiously around his head. His friend, unsurprisingly, had an aura that was most centered around his head. Sam figured it was due to his exceptionally bright mind.
But now he's trying to figure out whether he should lie or tell the truth.
"I, uh, was out," he started, his aura slowing down in its swirling a bit, "With friends."
There was no glaring lie within Kevin's less than confident sounding response, but the tell-tale colors changed slightly at the last part of his statement.
A half-lie. Which means he was people he may have seen as friends at one point, but it doubtful about now. Or the wrong kind of people that he may want to be friends with.
Sam didn't realize he was looking attentively at Kevin until his roommate squirmed and turned away.
"What's with you and your laser eyesight of truth?" he complained, throwing his scrawny arms into the air and nearly sending the spoon stuck in his yogurt flying, "You're like a-a bloodhound or something, but with conversations."
"Sorry," Sam apologized sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. He was usually better about the intense staring he did while reading people's auras, but sometimes he slipped up. "I'll drop it for now. But you know if you're in any kind of trouble, I can help, right?"
"Pshh, I'm not in any trouble!" the younger boy stated, brushing off his concern with a wave of his hand and a scoff, but his aura changed again, signaling another half lie.
Either in denial about his situation, or it's something that might get him trouble soon. Sam thought grimly. What have you gotten into, Kevin?
The conversation changed to other things(Kevin was pretty quick in evading any more invasive questions, and Sam let him) and the two students got ready for an early start to their studies. Sam had to admit, it sounded good to finally have a normal study session with his long-time friend. They hadn't had one since finals week, and even then their study sessions were more like them desperately cramming and quizzing each other while consuming large amounts of caffeinated drinks in an effort to stay awake.
By the time the two had finished breakfast and gotten themselves ready, it was about 6:30. The main campus library opened at 7:00, which gave them more than enough time to get to LU, as they were going to beat the subway morning rush which usually started at 8. Kevin had wrapped himself up well with his expensive coat and leather gloves, while Sam made do with his black army jacket and the layers of flannel beneath. He only bothered to put on gloves to appease his roommate.
"Why is it still cold?" Kevin asked in disbelief as they stepped out and almost slipped on a hidden ice patch on the sidewalk. "It's almost March!"
"Almost being the keyword," Sam grunted as he grabbed the Asian boy by his elbow to prevent him from face planting into the ground, "You know how Lawrence is."
"Bitter winters and sweltering summers," Kevin grumbled as they made their way to the station. Above them, the early morning sky was scattered with enough clouds to signal another upcoming snowstorm. "I'm going to have to live somewhere more temperate than this hellish city when I graduate."
The younger Winchester laughed at his friend's grouchiness, and it seemed in the blink of an eye they were sliding their metro cards and boarding the train. Sam had forgotten how much time seemed to pass when he was with Kevin. He was just one of those kinds of friends, and probably Sam's best friend now that Jess wasn't around.
Ugh, don't think about Jess.
The subway journey passed about as pleasantly as a subway journey for Sam could get. The press of people in tiny subway cars was a disaster in the making for him, as all the different, conflicting auras washed over him and left him feeling disoriented and more than a little queasy, depending on how many strong auras were riding along to affect him. Over the years he had learned to block them out, or at the very least filter through what he saw and felt, but the subway was still a jarring experience at times. Puberty had given him another blessing in that his sheer size usually meant people shied away from him and gave him as much space as possible on a train car.
Kevin joked about this as the subway pulled away from the station, an age-old joke about Sam's size that was made pretty much every ride (Your shoulders have kept the good citizens of Lawrence away once again). Sam retorted with a joke about Kevin's own size and how he had to hold on to his elbow whenever they had to stand since he couldn't reach the hand holds comfortably (something that still made the Winchester laugh), and then they were cracking jokes while they skimmed their textbooks. While they rode, Sam kept a periodic watch on the other boy's aura and was glad to see that much of the stress had bled away, if only for the journey.
LU loomed above them in a collection of buildings as soon as they exited the station. While it appeared daunting(freshmen were known to have gotten ridiculously loss within it), the two had always been able to navigate it effortlessly. Between Kevin spending much of his time on campus due to his dedication to his studies(or, at least, he used to; Sam wasn't sure what he was doing anymore lately), and Sam's well-honed sense of direction(John had taught him far too much), the two knew just about everything there was to know about LU and its labyrinth-like layout. Shortcuts, unknown nooks, hidden paths; you name it, Sam and Kevin knew it. Therefore, they managed to cut about five minutes of the usual travel time to the library and got there just shy of 7:00.
The main library students used was called the Watercrest Memorial Library, or the WM for short, but a much more popular name to refer to it was the Wilkes Mausoleum Library, referring to the demonic head librarian, Mrs. Wilkes, who ran the place with an iron fist. Thousands of students over the years had felt her undeserved wrath over the years, and many souls had been crushed and laid to rest within the 3-story building; hence the mausoleum part of the title. Wilkes even had two cronies: another librarian called Mrs. Olsen that liked to patrol the aisles like some kind of predatory flamingo(she wore eye-damaging shades of pink nearly daily), and more recently, Marcus Hoffman, a grad student that acted as if he held some sort of authority since he became an assistant and walked around with a permanent stick up his ass. He also seemed to adore the ground the two Furies from Hades walked upon, something that the rest of the student body couldn't comprehend at all.
There wasn't anyone waiting outside, but that wasn't really a surprise. It was extremely cold outside, and Mrs. Wilkes was notorious about opening the library at exactly 7:00, regardless of who might be waiting outside or their level of need for the library and its resources. She also griped and bitched at whoever was waiting, as if they were somehow at fault for her having to open up. It got to the point where people just didn't bother showing up until at least a few minutes after 7:00 or even went to other, smaller libraries to bide their time(there were 6 important libraries on campus, but none as big or as varied in material as WU). This wasn't the only irritating quality about the obnoxious woman, but it was the most pressing at the moment for the two friends, as it was barely 20 degrees right now, and they were cold.
"Wilkes should be walking up by now," Sam muttered in confusion as he stamped ice from his sturdy boots in the clear space the overhanging above them made near the door. The convenient overhanging also shielded them somewhat from the blustery wind, "Where is she?"
"Maybe she called in sick or something. That'd be a miracle," Kevin responded, leaning in to peer through the thick glass of the door, "Huh. I don't see her anywhere, and the main lights aren't on."
Sam frowned before coming up beside his friend and looking in as well. He was right; the main lights that overlooked the biggest check out desk that Wilkes usually commandeered was unusually dim, the only light coming from the skylights set in the roof. In fact, it seemed the only lights actually on were those illuminating the doors they were standing in front of and the space in between their doors and the second set that lead into the library.
"That's weird," the Winchester muttered before trying the door handle. It opened effortlessly, and the two friends looked at each other silently before shrugging and walking in. Sure, the situation was a little weird, as Wilkes was a constant presence in the library, but they both had work to do, and only a bit of time before their first classes.
Their breath frosted in the air as they stepped through the second set of doors, footsteps echoing on the marble of the large entrance area just before the main desk. The heat didn't seem to be on either, which drew a frustrated grunt from Kevin, who had prematurely unwound his striped scarf.
"What the hell's up with the heat? Does Wilkes want us to freeze to death or something?" he asked irritatedly, voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling before seeming to travel around the landings of the two floors above them.
Sam winced at the sound before holding out a hand, promptly stopping the younger boy with his arm as he began to look around properly.
Something's not right.
"Don't you find it strange that Wilkes or her cronies haven't shown up at all?" he asked, "And that nothing's on? Wilkes always has those stupid heaters by her desk in the winter cause Olsen's bones get all creaky, but they're not on."
Kevin frowned before they both turned to look at the main desk, which was in the shape of a horseshoe. Not a single heater was on, even though Sam could see two personal ones sitting on either end of the horseshoe.
"You're right," the Asian boy whispered, dark eyes scrutinizing the desk, "But if Wilkes isn't here, then who's opened the library?"
On any other occasion, Sam probably would've brushed it off as unimportant. Obviously, Mrs. Olsen opened it, or the janitorial staff forgot to lock up when they came by to clean up. John's old teachings would've niggled the back of his mind, but they would've stayed there, and Sam would've gone on with his day.
However, Sam's last week and the case he had gotten caught up in had brought back everything he had been taught, and right now, his Winchester instinct was screaming at him to get Kevin out of the library, because something was wrong.
OK, think. Problems and possible solutions. What's off?
Where the hell was Wilkes? The lady practically lived in the library, and even if some other librarian had opened it up, they should've been at the front desk, especially Olsen in this weather. Which meant that someone that wasn't a librarian had opened up, and Sam had a feeling that someone wasn't going to be friendly.
The killer struck first on campus. What's stopping him from doing it again?
A chill ran down Sam's spine as he looked around the library with renewed perspective. If the killer was here, then so would be the dark aura. The aura practically rolled off him in waves; it was so powerful. All he had to do was locate it, but where...
There. By the very far shelves towards the back of the first floor, Sam spotted a faint trace of the malevolent fog drifting out from between two aisles.
Shit.
"What time is it, Kevin?" Sam asked very quietly, firing an intense gaze on his friend and gesturing for him to respond just as quietly.
Kevin blinked, confused before his dark eyes widened and he pulled out his phone, doing one better as he showed him the time on his screen. It was 7:01.
"What do you think's going on?" the younger boy whispered, clutching his phone like a lifeline.
"Look, I think the killer may have struck again," the younger Winchester whispered back, grasping his friend by his shoulders, even as he let his gaze flick around for any sign of movement. An unfortunate aspect of WU was the sheer size of it, which meant the killer could've been hiding anywhere if he was sticking around.
Kevin's dark eyes widened, his aura flickering with the first beginnings of fear.
"Are you sure?" he asked, the blood the wind had brought to his cheeks draining, "How do you know Olsen, or even, uh- what's his face, that kissass with the rat face? Hoffman! How do you know he hasn't opened the library up!"
Sam almost let out a snicker at Kevin's blunt description of Hoffman, but now wasn't the time. His friend was beginning to panic, so he quickly clapped a hand over Kevin's mouth and nose when his breathing became loud and shallow, gesturing for him to quiet down and to take deeper breaths. He waited until Kevin had regained a steadier breathing pattern before shaking his head and gesturing to the desk.
"None of their stuff is here," he pointed out, "Olsen has those extra eyes in the back of her head and would've been here by now. Hoffman likes to strut around, but he doesn't have the authority to open the place up."
The Winchester's eyes drifted to the dark aura, which was still hanging in the air like poison.
He's been here, and recently. There's no trail from these main doors, which means he came and left through one of the numerous side exits, or...
"Look, this psycho might even still be here," Sam said grimly, unconsciously falling into his old training as his stance shifted slightly and his breathing changed to allow for maximum efficiency, while still being quiet, "You wait outside while I have a look around-"
"Are you fucking crazy!" Kevin suddenly hissed, grabbing his upper arm. His grip was surprisingly tight, "No way are we splitting up! That's the one thing you don't do, ever! I'm going where you're going."
"Kevin-"
"Sam, with all due respect, I'll gladly take my chances with you. You're like, 6'5, and I've seen you pick up a grown man by the throat, not to mention you're built like a Greek god," his friend stated, gaze intense, "I'm way safer with you than waiting outside like-like some Rebecca from a lame horror flick!"
"Does Dwayne Granger from junior year really count as a grown man?" Sam asked, earning a huff of a laugh from his friend, but not much change to the panic overtaking him.
"He was bigger than me," Kevin mumbled.
Kevin's aura was a pale green with fear, but Sam could tell that the boy was going to stick to him like a shadow by the determined stripe of amber yellow. His friend was truly fearful something might happen if he waited outside, and Sam realized that something just might. The killer had proven to be elusive and completely ruthless; while Kevin may not fit whatever mysterious demographic he targeted if he believed Kevin saw him or was some kind of threat, Sam knew he'd kill him.
Dammit. How'd my life ended up like this? We should both just walk out, but what if it's just my paranoia playing up and it's all for nothing?
"Fine, but don't let go of me. Step quietly, and if you have to say something or stop for some reason, tap my hand twice. If I tell you to do something, you do it, no questions asked. Don't touch anything either. Are we clear?" Sam ordered, earning an affirmative nod from the younger boy, who had gone progressively pale.
Linking their gloved hands, Sam led Kevin through the large, marble entrance area as quietly as possible, recalling more and more lessons with John with every step he took. His Winchester instinct was still screaming at him to get Kevin, who was untrained, a liability, and more importantly, an innocent, out of danger. Sam did his best to ignore it and instead gave in to the desire to grab something to defend themselves with. He paused at the checkout desk and grabbed a hole puncher, earning a wide-eyed, are-you-fucking-serious?look from Kevin, who was gripping his hand hard enough to hurt.
Sam simply shrugged minutely back. The hole puncher was one of the largest blunt objects on the desk that he had spotted first.
The sound of a door opening behind them caused Sam to whirl around, shoving Kevin behind him as he raised the hole puncher before awkwardly putting it down as he realized who it was.
"Uh, guys? What are you doing?"
"Adam!" Kevin exclaimed happily, seeming to be relieved to see a familiar face. Sam didn't blame him, as he was secretly glad there was someone else here too and that it was Adam of all people.
Adam Milligan was in a special academic program that took place partially on campus, with the rest of his time spent at Southview High so he could get dual credits. Sam had first met him at Southview, but since he had been a senior and Adam a freshman, they hadn't spent too much time together, but lately, they had reconnected. He was a good kid and completely determined to become a doctor, but he wasn't a pretentious ass about it like some of the medical majors Sam had met. He was also one of the more level-headed friends he had, and Sam didn't use the term 'friend' lightly.
Sam quickly gave the blond boy a rundown of the situation, and he knew Adam wasn't going to brush them off, as his grey and blue aura became steely with seriousness. Adam was a bright kid for his age; he knew how Wilkes' schedule worked just like the rest of them, and how abnormal she, and nobody else for that matter, was nowhere in sight.
"What makes you think it's the campus killer though? There could be another reasonable explanation." Adam asked as they clustered near each other. The ice crystals the wind had whipped up crunched on the shoulders of his coat, and Sam brushed them off.
"Too loud," he said in response to the boy's questioning look before turning to glance at the aisle with the dark aura.
I can't tell them that I can see auras, so how do I convince them?
"He's struck before with Reynold, and we all know Reynold was an asshole," he pointed out, earning two affirmative nods from his younger friends, "Wilkes was 10 times the asshole that Reynold was, so if the killer would go after anyone..."
Adam's blue eyes widened minutely as the Winchester trailed off.
"You have a point," he muttered, rubbing his chin with a gloved hand, "But if it is the killer, we should probably go while we can and leave it to the authorities."
"Yeah, let's go, please," Kevin agreed fervently, "Let's be smart and not reenact the shitty plot of every horror film in the history of cinema by investigating!"
Sam sighed, running a hand over his face as he quickly considered his options.
Leaving was honestly the best course of action. Before, he could have protected Kevin just fine if they had stumbled across the killer, but factoring in Adam, who was only sixteen and even smaller than Kevin, his job would be tougher. Besides, Kevin had a point. They were just students, and investigating wasn't their job.
Maybe mine, but not theirs, Sam thought as he looked at the two teens looking at him expectantly.
"Ok, let's go-"
The ding of an elevator echoed loudly in the oppressive silence of the library, earning a squeak from Kevin and a flinch from Adam as the two teens nearly jumped out of their skins. Sam kept a calm exterior, but inside his chest, his heart skipped a beat at the sudden jump scare.
"Christ!" Adam exclaimed as they turned to look at the elevator, but from their angle, they could only see part of it, as the elevators were located in the entrance area space between the desk and the doors. It was specifically the one on the left wall, and Sam cursed as he realized he had completely forgotten about those.
Stupid, stupid! Now what?
"It's coming from the third floor," Sam breathed before taking a few steps forward. This allowed him to see the elevator fully from a distance, and he could feel Kevin holding onto the back of his jacket as they watched the display change from a glaring red '3' to '2' with another ding, "Adam, get behind me."
"Is he on the elevator?" Kevin asked in a pinched voice; his aura was trembling with fear, Sam could feel it, "Sam? Why the fuck would he be on the elevator?"
"Adam, get behind me!" Sam said louder, as the teen was still staring at the elevator, "What the hell are you doing?"
The blond boy's aura was like ice now as he drew a pocketknife from his jacket and flicked it open with a faint click.
Oh great.
"Is that a knife? Adam, why do you have a knife?" Kevin hissed, "What are you going to do with that, poke him with it?"
"Adam, get behind me for Christ's sake," Sam said forcefully, tugging the stupidly brave boy back by his hood and shoving him behind him(what the actual fuck was he thinking?).
"I was thinking maybe I could intimidate him or something while you guys left," Adam muttered as he clung to the back of Sam's jacket with Kevin, earning a huffed laugh from the Asian boy as the '2' changed to a '1' with what seemed like the loudest ding yet.
"I think the campus killer has a bigger knife, dude, but kudos to your Gryffindor idiocy."
"I'm a Slytherin," Adam muttered as the trio waited with bated breath as the metal doors slid open.
We really should've left by now, Sam thought idly as he readied his hole puncher, If John ever heard of this I'd definitely be hung out to dry.
It was empty.
"God bless America," Adam exclaimed as they all sighed with relief before looking closer at the elevator.
Wait, no, there's something on the floor. Is that-
"Is that one of Olsen's cardigans? It's pink! It is, isn't it? Does that mean she's dead?" Kevin asked frantically, and Sam immediately pushed the two younger boys back to the main desk. He had seen a faint trace of the dark aura on the pink heap of clothing, but just that. It was faint enough that Sam knew the killer hadn't just put it there; it had been there for at least an hour.
Which means he set it up. And he's toying with us.
"It could be a diversion. We don't know where he is-"
The elevator on the right side of the library suddenly dinged, earning a cringe from Kevin as Sam whipped around to look at it.
Shit.
"What if he's on that one?" Adam asked, aiming his knife at the elevator, and Sam swore before grabbing both of them by the arm.
"Ok, that's it, we're leaving," he said authoritatively, striding forcefully to the exit doors. This had gone on long enough, and he didn't like being toyed with. They would let the proper authorities handle this while they waited outside or in one of the nearby buildings like good little college students.
Kevin sighed with obvious relief as they made their way to the doors, his aura growing steadily stronger as they approached their exit. Adam sounded a bit disgruntled as he put his knife away, but Sam could sense the relief in his aura. He pushed the two teens in front of him as he kept an eye on the elevator.
It was almost comical when Kevin and Adam bounced off the door with twin grunts. He had nudged them a bit too hard towards the doors.
"I'm delicate, Sam!" Kevin whined good-naturedly as Adam glared at him.
"Whoops," Sam said, holding up his hands in apology.
The humor faded quickly though when they tried the door handle.
It was locked.
"Sam?" Kevin asked as he tugged at the door. His aura was quickly going from relieved to frightened.
Sam's heart plummeted as he stepped up to try the door, but it was well and truly locked.
He slammed a hand on the glass hard enough to make to make it rattle and earn a squeak from Kevin. Adam cursed beside him.
Shit.
The doors on the left slid close as the elevator on the right suddenly dinged and began its countdown, the display switching to a red '2'.
"Can we pick a lock or something?" Adam asked, but Sam was already shaking his head.
"Whole system's electrical and hooked up to a computer, which means whoever locked us in is good with their tech. There's a special security key, but I don't know where they keep that," Sam said, gesturing to the door before stepping back, "Dammit!"
Adam grimaced, "Break the glass?"
"It'd take time, it's thick," Sam answered, "Thicker than it looks."
"We're screwed!" Kevin moaned, tugging at the ends of his scarf as Sam looked apprehensively at the approaching elevator and tried to come up with some sort of game plan(You're a Winchester for Christ's sake, use your head!). "We're screwed! We're gonna die fucking serial killer victims in a fucking college campus library! That's not how I want to go! We're- is that Alfie?"
The Winchester turned to look at the doors as Kevin practically threw himself at it. Even Adam pressed his face up against the glass.
"Alfie?" Sam asked, confused, and the two boys looked back at him.
"My best friend," Adam responded at the same time Kevin said, "Adam's best friend."
A boy hunched against the blowing wind was striding up the steps to the doors, his aura lavender, and mauve.
"Call him," Sam said bluntly, even as he fumbled for his own phone. Seeing Adam's friend had been the boost he needed, and now he had a vague idea forming in his head, "Tell him to get help. Security, campus police, anything."
"Alfie's dad is a police officer and patrols near here," Adam said as he tugged out his phone, "He can get here in like, five minutes."
"Do we have five minutes?" Kevin asked ominously as Alfie tugged on the locked door handle from his side and gave them a confused look, shoulders hunched against the bitter wind outside.
"What's going on?" he asked, yell hardly audible through the two sets of doors it had to travel through, "Why are the doors locked? Adam?"
Adam managed to dial, earning another confused look from Alfie as the blonde boy answered his phone.
"Alfie, we're trapped in here with the campus psycho killer, and we need help now. Call your dad! We don't know where the hell he is right now, and-fuck!"
The elevator doors on the right dinged opened, showing a familiar brown sweater vest tainted with the same faint amount of dark aura draped on the railing within.
Crap. Sam thought as he scrolled through the contacts on his phone, Hoffman too?
"Fuck, that's Hoffman's sweater vest, the ugly brown one," Kevin muttered before pressing himself against the door even more firmly, "Alfie, we're going to fucking die if you don't get us some help!"
"What's going on?"
A redhead had shown up now, dark green-blue aura standing out in sharp contrast against Alfie's bigger, but paler one.
"They're trapped with the psycho killer, Charlie," Alfie responded, voice muffled by the doors, "I need you to go get campus police!"
Good kid, Sam thought as he watched the blond boy point the redhead in the right direction, the girl taking off down the steps. Good fucking kid. I'll have to give him a hug later or something.
The Winchester returned his attention to his phone, picking the correct contact and tapping his foot as he waited with the dials, keeping a watchful eye on the whole library. He didn't want this dude sneaking up on them, but that'd be nearly impossible. Not only was Sam more aware of his surroundings, he could also sense the killer's aura. The psycho wouldn't be able to get within a good thirty-foot radius without Sam catching at least a whiff of his aura.
"Sam? What's up?"
He's awake. Good.
"Gabe, I'm locked in the campus library with Kevin, Adam and the killer," Sam started, hoping the sleepy man would catch on and quickly become alert, "He's freaking toying with us with the elevators, and I don't know where he is. All I have is a hole puncher for a weapon!"
Sam could practically feel the man's aura change through the phone. He heard sheets of paper shifting and the jangle of keys as something fell to the floor.
"I'm on my way. Stay calm, and if you see him, then run. Has someone called the police?"
Gabe sounded a lot more aware now, and something else beneath the hard, serious tone he had taken. Sam didn't have time to wonder what it was though; he was locked in a library with a psychotic murderer.
"They're on it," Sam said, glancing at the doors. No one else had shown up, but he was sure that would change soon unless the cold kept the students away. He hoped it did; he didn't want anyone else getting caught up in this.
I should've followed my instinct and left when we could've.
"I'm more worried about Kevin and Adam. They haven't been in a situation like this."
"And you have?"
Crap.
"The chase?" Sam said in a 'duh' tone of voice, even as he winced at his minor slip of the tongue. Training with John was not supposed to be common knowledge, "Where are you right now?"
Outside, the redhead had come back, nearly breaking her neck as she slid on a patch of ice. She was agile though and managed to right herself by grabbing a nearby trashcan.
"They're on their way with keys cause they can't access the system, but they were fucking asleep! It's gonna take them a minute!" the girl said. She looked vaguely familiar, but Sam couldn't focus on her identity at the moment.
"Can you do something, Charlie?" Alfie asked, and Charlie shrugged before rummaging into her bag and pulling out something that looked like a pager.
"I can try."
There was a pause from Sam's phone before the consultant responded in a disgruntled manner
"I'm in the Beetle right now, trying to get out of North Heights."
Sam closed his eyes momentarily as his stomach twisted before opening them(he had to keep an eye on the library). North Heights was a good ten minutes away from LU, and that was being generous. It was Monday morning, with still slippery roads from the previous day's snow, and Gabe trying to navigate.
"You won't make it."
"That's what the portable siren the LPD assigned to me is for, Sammy," Gabe responded jokingly, but the college student could hear the nerves in his voice. This time, he didn't have to dissect the tone. It was fear.
For me?
"Gabe-"
Alfie gasped loudly on the other side of the door, and Sam turned to them, feeling his muscles freeze as he took in their expressions as something simultaneously brushed against the back of his mind, a whisper of evil.
The two of them were backing up now, and Alfie's eyes had widened comically before he began yelling into his phone. Sam didn't have to hear him to know what he was saying, or have to see the pointing fingers and frantic gestures of Charlie.
He could feel the dark aura now.
"Fuck!" he swore, whipping around with Adam even as Kevin whispered, "He's right behind us, isn't he?"
That's so cliche, a part of Sam thought, even as the other part was telling him to get his shit together and do something.
Technically, he wasn't right behind them(Sam wouldn't have let that happen). He was standing on the other side of the main desk, shrouded in relative shadow since the lights still weren't on. Sam estimated he was a good fifty feet away, give or take. Still, he made for a terrifying sight, with his hood pulled low over his face and his dark aura swirling around him in a black arc of cold hate.
"Sam? What's going on?" Gabe asked from what seemed like a mile away, even though his phone was right by his ear. "Sammy?"
"Sam," Kevin breathed, scuttling towards him, and Sam let his friend move half behind him for protection as he stared down the hooded figure. Adam shifted to stand by his side, one hand shoved into his pocket and presumably holding his knife.
"He's here," the Winchester said roughly, not taking his eyes away from the murderer at all. "He's here, and-"
The killer tilted his head, the movement earning what sounded like a swear from outside, a whimper from Kevin by his side, and a sudden shift in mindset from Sam.
People talked about how, in life and death situations, they were either paralyzed by fear or suddenly gained a strange sense of purpose. Flight of fight, the age-old instinct that took over when an average person was confronted with a high-stress situation.
Sam, however, wasn't average. He never had been, and due to John, he didn't really have a flight or fight instinct. Winchesters, as John liked to put it, didn't let that 'pesky impulse' control them and dictate what it made them do. Winchesters controlled it.
Things narrowed down to an extremely limited field as Sam's mind processed everything clinically, without a haze of heart-stopping fear clouding his mind.
There was repetitive pounding on one of the doors. Someone, probably Alfie, had grabbed one of the trashcans placed outside and was smashing it into the door, but the glass was far too thick to be broken easily(LU students had encountered that pesky little fact on many of the doors on campus), and they had to smash through another door to get in anyway. No escape or immediate help there.
The elevators were slow. Riding one was barely faster than taking one of the multiple sets of stairs the library contained, and there was an extremely good chance the killer could get to them before the doors slid shut. While it was a good idea to get on one and pull the emergency stop to get it stuck between two floors and wait until the police showed up, getting to one of the elevators successfully was too much of a risk.
Sam still had his hole puncher, his heavy backpack, and, oddly enough, a pocketknife to match Adam in his jacket pocket. John had ingrained that habit into them; to always have some sort of weapon. The only reason he had it in this jacket though was because he had accidentally left it in there a long time ago. A stroke of luck for him, because if he ever needed a knife it was definitely now.
Adam himself looked ready to succumb to the 'fight' instinct and shank the killer, but that wouldn't help at all. Like Kevin had said, the killer's knife was probably bigger(along with his experience with it; he'd already killed two people that they knew of). He wouldn't be intimidated at all. Sam's eyes slid to the blond boy for a fraction of a second and was already surprised to see that the boy was already looking at him, a whole conversation in his eyes.
Like how Dean and I used to look at each other during training. Sam thought absentmindedly.
Sam tapped the messenger bag he had resting on his hip, then pointed subtly to the killer without looking at him. Adam tilted his head slightly towards the killer and moved his hand in his pocket; Sam shook his head and gestured to Kevin, earning an accepting nod from Adam. They both looked away, using their peripheral now as Sam tapped his hand against his pocket. Adam shifted the hand that was gripping his knife in his pocket in response.
He understands. We both have knives, but it's a last resort since we have Kevin.
Kevin was holding up well, considering how stressed and fearful he was, but he was weak. He hadn't been resting well, Sam could tell, not since last week when he had discovered the bloody lecture hall, and his breathing was already becoming a bit erratic from panic. Kevin wouldn't be able to keep up a sprint for long, which meant Sam had to take care of him.
From here, Sam couldn't see any sort of gun on the killer, but between the dim interior of the library and the fact that the desk blocked the lower half of his body from their angle, that wasn't saying much. Regardless, he was pretty sure the killer didn't have a gun. It wasn't his style, and he would've pulled it by now if he did.
You're trapped in a library with a psychotic killer, two innocents, no proper weapon, and help on its way with an unknown ETA. What are you forgetting Sammy?
The Winchester nearly shuddered at the sound of John's rough voice in his head, but he was already too far gone in the mindset, so he showed no external reaction to his thought process at all. John(or the John-voice in his head), however much he hated to admit it, was right. He had forgotten to take in the killer's aura.
While malevolent still, it was about as settled as something so monstrous could be. There was no sign of extreme anger, or the desire to kill. It was just there, settled and waiting patiently, like a curled up behemoth watching a lesser being with mild curiosity.
Of course. He obviously has an agenda. If we're not on his hit list, then he'll debate whether or not to kill us instead of just doing it automatically.
It was a shallow comfort, but Sam factored it in anyway.
"Sam, answer me!"
It had taken three seconds for the Winchester to take all of this in and communicate silently with Adam. Now, he had to buy a little bit of time while he got into position.
"The Enochian was an interesting touch," he said, raising his voice so it echoed around them as he stared down the killer, all the while shifting closer to Kevin. Beside him, he could already hear Adam slowly shifting the straps of his bag, "Does it have some sort of meaning to you?"
The killer said nothing, but his aura shifted slightly. Not in a way that boded trouble for them, but more like he was...curious.
He wants to know how I know it's Enochian, but he's not stupid enough to speak. He doesn't want anything to give him away, including his voice.
"Reynold and Cork were working together, right?" Sam asked suddenly, pushing the two boys behind him as if he wanted to shield them from him(and he did, but there was another reason), "And whatever's in the duffel links them. I know you left that on purpose."
"What are you doing, Sam?" Kevin hissed.
"Sam?" Gabe asked, still on the phone.
Sam kept his attention on the killer and his little monologue, even as he heard Adam get ready.
"What did Wilkes do to you, or was it, Olsen? Maybe even Hoffman? Which one did you kill this time for your mission?"
The killer remained silent, but it didn't matter. Sam hadn't expected a response, and Adam was ready.
Wedging his phone between his shoulder and ear, the Winchester transferred his hole puncher to a startled Kevin before grabbing the bag Adam had been slowly working off his shoulders the whole time. Sam had had to get the boy behind him so that the killer wouldn't notice, and was glad he had been big enough to shield the boy completely. His little ruse had worked like a charm because he had the heavy bag ready to go before the killer could even react.
"Give me your bag, Kevin!" Adam exclaimed, already working if off of Kevin, who was freaking out because the killer was now running down the surface of the desk, dark coat(that was different from the hoodie) rustling as his ring caught the light.
"I'm still alive Gabe, but you might want to hurry up," Sam said calmly before he threw the backpack at the killer.
It was just like the trashcan lid back in the alley. Sam had always had impeccable aim, and with his strength, the backpack turned into a black blur in the air, sailing true as it slammed into the killer's chest with what was probably fifteen pounds of textbooks and other school paraphernalia.
Good thing we're all nerds. Our bags are gonna hurt like a bitch.
He didn't make the mistake of assuming the killer was down and out for the count. Sam had learned from the alley that the killer was no punk physically; he may have looked more like Kevin with his physique, but appearances were deceiving. It wouldn't stop him for long.
Still, it was quite satisfying to see the killer fly backward from the force of the backpack and smash into an office chair with a clatter.
"All right, time to go," he muttered, grabbing Kevin and tossing him over one shoulder effortlessly, ignoring his friend's surprised protest and the muffled sounds he could hear outside, "Adam?"
Kevin's red bag went flying through the air, colliding with the killer's back just as he stumbled to his feet. It landed with an audible thump, and there was another clatter as the killer fell again.
"What do you carry in your bag Kevin, bricks?" Adam asked as he rolled his shoulders with a wince.
"I'll carry them around now if it takes down psycho killers!" Kevin exclaimed.
"Time to go," the Winchester muttered, grabbing Kevin and tossing him over his shoulder as Adam pulled the knife from his pocket, "Give your phone to Kevin, Adam, and I hope you're good at running."
After the quick exchange, Sam and Adam sprinted past the main desk and the killer, who was obviously winded but recovering quickly, judging by the way he was getting to his hands and knees. Sam didn't look at him too long though, as even though he was keeping calm so far, the dark aura was already giving him a mild headache.
At least I'll be able to sense him coming.
From Sam's phone, he could hear the wail of a siren, presumably the one Gabe had. He could also hear car horns, and the screech of tires, which meant Gabe was probably driving like even more of a maniac than he usually did.
God help anyone on the streets between him and LU.
"I'm back," Sam said, finally returning to his phone and earning a relieved sigh from Gabe, "How far away are you?"
"Two minutes away," the consultant said in a tense voice, "Sammy, please tell me you're running."
"I'll split, check the side exits," Adam said, and before Sam could stop him, the blond had veered off down another aisle and was out of sight.
Dammit!
"Yup," Sam responded shortly as he weaved through the nonfiction aisles, trying to catch up to Adam, "Try not to run anyone over, yeah?"
"If anyone gets in my fucking way that's their problem."
"Sam? Alfie says campus police are at the doors now, and his dad. He also said the killer ran in the opposite direction from us. Why would he do that?" Kevin said nervously from over his shoulder, "Is it a trap?"
"He's not interested in us. He's leaving," Sam said grimly, "Give me my hole puncher."
Kevin passed him the office supply that was now one of their only weapons(Sam's knife was still in his pocket), and Sam did a quick shift of items. Kevin was draped over his left shoulder, so he transferred his phone to his left hand, keeping his grip on Kevin with his forearm while wielding the hole puncher with his right. During all this, he didn't slow down at all. Even with Kevin, he was still faster than the average person.
A sudden trail of dark fog made Sam nearly bypass an aisle entirely, but he realized at the last second that it was too faint to have come fresh from the killer. It was an old trail.
I either track down Adam or follow this.
Sam grimaced. He was quickly losing track of Adam's aura, as while it was impressive in size and color, the greys and blues blended well in the dim interior of the library. Assuming the killer had killed someone, this trail would lead to the body. So far, the hooded figure had shown crazy ingenuity in his crimes in not leaving behind any sort of forensic evidence, and he wouldn't want to risk getting any at the scene, or anywhere in the library really. Therefore, there was a strong chance he wouldn't run into the killer following this, and it'd be the best chance of keeping Kevin safe.
You better be all right Adam. Sam thought before plunging down the aisle.
The Winchester followed the trail, which lead steadily into the heart of the library and towards one of the main clusters of computers WU contained. All the while, Kevin kept up a running commentary that made Sam want to simultaneously laugh and shush him.
"Alfie, I'm with Sam fucking Winchester and his holy hole puncher of death, I'm fine," Kevin said with a hysterical sounding giggle at his own pun, "Yeah, the big guy with the shoulders. I feel like a rag doll right now."
A short pause, "I don't know where Adam went. He ran ahead and we lost track of him, but I'm sure he's fine. He was ready to use his knife and shank the dude, who, by the way, is completely terrifying. He felt evil if that makes sense."
So Kevin could feel it too, which means this dude's aura is crazy powerful if regular people notice something.
"I'm here, Sam. This redhead got the door open somehow, and one of the officers has a key for the other. Where are you?"
"Uhh, non-fiction, dictionaries," Sam responded as he raced through the aisles. His breathing was a bit ragged(he was carrying Kevin after all), but overall, he actually felt...good. Must have been all the adrenaline coursing through his system.
Of course, as soon as he said this, Adam nearly gave him a heart attack when he burst out of an aisle perpendicular to their own.
"Holy fuck!" Adam said, lashing out his knife dangerously close to Sam's chest(maybe if Adam was a foot taller he'd be able to reach Sam's face).
Sam managed to leap back from the wild stroke, smashing his hip into the shelves.
Ouch. That's gonna bruise.
"Watch where you point that thing, dude!" Sam exclaimed, drawing a sheepish expression from the blonde.
"Sorry, but I saw the psycho duck out of a side exit through one of the conference rooms."
"You hear that, Kevin? Gabe, he's out of the building." Sam asked, and the Asian boy quickly began to relay the information.
"Unfortunately," Gabe hissed, "Get out of my way, LPD here! Christ, move! Jody, they're-"
Sam didn't hear the rest of the consultant's sentence, distracted by a blinding throb of pain that lanced through his head.
Books are in disarray. Crumpled pages dangle from damaged bindings, torn and ripped with no regard for the printed words they held.
Something crunched underfoot, and Sam came to a screeching halt as he looked down, Adam bumping into him with a grunt.
Beneath his feet were vandalized books, pages strewn all over the place and pulled from their bindings. Shelves laid bare as the books that once sat on them littered the floor.
No.
"Sam, why have we stopped?" Kevin asked anxiously, "Books are the least of our fucking problems right now."
"I think it's going to become much more important in a minute, Kev," Adam remarked, coming to stand by Sam's side. His aura was shifting to dark shades of blue and grey as he looked around with sharp blue eyes.
Sam winced, clutching onto Kevin tighter as another throb of pain starbursted behind his eyes.
Some are stained with blood.
The Winchester took a few hesitant steps forward, feeling his gut twist. The faint trace of the hateful aura had grown stronger, swirling around his ankles just like it did back at the crime scene where they had found Cork. The further he went, the more drops of blood appeared on some of the pages. There was also a faint whirring sound and the flutter of pages falling to the ground. A copier was on.
"This cannot be good," Adam mumbled, gripping his pocketknife harder.
"Sammy? Where are you? The bastard's gotten away I think."
Sam stopped at the corner, unwittingly letting Kevin down onto the ground as he dimly registered Gabe's words from his phone.
"Maybe someone else vandalized the library," Kevin said shakily, but his theory fell flat. They all knew it had to have been the killer.
They all looked at the end of the aisle ahead of them, and the corner that suddenly seemed to loom above them, before edging closer in a huddle. The aura was getting thicker, hissing slightly as it undulated across the floor.
"Please don't let it be a dead person," Kevin whimpered, clutching onto Sam, who was at the forefront of the huddled trio.
Crimson drops falling from a pale hand.
The first thing they saw was the hand as they peered cautiously around the corner of the aisle, outstretched from its pinned position on the wall. It was steadily dripping blood that pattered to the ground.
Dead.
Wilkes was pinned to a pillar just before the cluster of computers, right above one of the copier machines, which was spewing pages printed with symbols Sam knew had to be Enochian. There were only a few symbols painted above her head, which rolled to the side and showed the gaping slit made to her throat. Her arms were outstretched, pinned that way by a plank of what looked like rotting wood. The dark aura was everywhere on the scene, just like with Cork.
"Oh, God. It's a dead person." Kevin breathed, looking very green as Adam cursed silently.
Blue, worn carpet.
Sam felt his heart skyrocket as he looked at the floor before them. All the carpet near the computers was a well-treaded blue, worn from the feet of a thousand students.
What the hell...
Kevin stumbled sideways, trying to skirt the body and knocking over a chair in the process, hands reaching out to a table to steady his fall. The wooden table moved a few inches with a groan. Adam moved to help steady him, folding up his knife with a deft hand.
A knocked over chair, a bumped table.
"Sammy, what's going on? We don't see you anywhere."
The Winchester moved to help steady Kevin, swallowing heavily as the iron scent of blood washed over him. His bag fell to the ground in the process.
Someone's heavy bag falls to the floor.
"The computers," he managed to say past the growing constricting feeling in his chest, "We're by the computers. Wilkes is dead."
She's dead, dead, dead.
Wilkes was dead by the hands of the Enochian-writing killer, and Sam may had just foreseen it in his dream.
Not maybe. I did.
Dangling from her ear, the lenses cracked beyond repair, were a pair of lurid green glasses.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This chapter took such a sharp left turn from what I planned, but I actually like how it turned out, even if I now have to make adjustments to the chapters I've planned out. Luckily it shouldn't take too much effort since I only had the next two chapters solidly planned out. Whoops!
How did this chapter change so much? Glad you asked! Not only was the killer not supposed to make an appearance at all, it was originally just supposed to be Sam and Kevin discovering the body due to them walking to the computers to set up their little study session. After that it would have been the study of the crime scene, and etc. But due to two obstacles I encountered when writing, it changed.
1. How should the killer evolve? I felt that he should either become bolder or 'slip up' in some manner as we progress into the story since he's so crazy.
2. How do I go about introducing new side characters I want to add? I have a web of connections to weave after all.
Therefore, I now have Adam, Alfie, and Charlie to play with, all introduced here. Adam being knife happy was a bit random on my part, but that's for a reason *insert maniacal cackling*. I also have the psycho becoming just a bit more psychotic as well.
Also, I said it'd get long, but yikes this got long! I think all the murder chapters will end up being this way due to their nature. Apologies in advance if long chapters aren't your thing!
The next chapter will feature the investigation of the crime scene, along with the reappearance of our favorite ocean man(it's about time tbh). Until next week readers!