A.N. Another weekend, another chapter. Had some late finishes at work, so wasn't able to post during the week. Hope this chapter makes up for it somehow.
Chick x

CHAPTER TEN

Trapped

Dean turned around slowly, placing his back against the door. In the middle of the corridor, directly in front of him now, a faint nebulous swirl of blue-grey smoke hovered and was already starting to become more visible, more here. The abstract haze began to coalesce, the smoke seeming to be drawing itself together, taking on the shadow shape of a humanesque figure. Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, Dean took a step sideways, trying to take himself out of the direct line of whatever it was that was trying to form; it simply moved in tandem with him. Not yet having been threatened, Dean slowly leaned to one side, dropping his kit bag soundlessly to the floor. Straightening up again, he stilled and waited, reassured by the weight of the Glock that was now in his hand. He blinked as he felt the whisper of a cool, soft breeze on his face, almost like a breath and, at the same moment, he heard a voice, formed on a sigh...Help...meeee.

...

Dean frowned as he gazed at the cloudy figure, his gun hand down by his side, reflexes tensed, ready to react if it tried to move any closer toward him.

"Who are you? Gimme a name."

The smoke grew denser, then faded again as though it was struggling to take on a more solid form. Dean's voice stayed steady.

"Why should I help you? Who are you?"

Dean's question was followed instantly by a loud bang, as the door he had so recently been backed up against flew open inwardly.

"The fu...?"

Dean just had time to notice the outline of the smoky figure shudder, then it abruptly evaporated. At the same moment, Dean felt a sudden, hard tug that jerked him through the open doorway and into the attic room. He stumbled as the force released it's hold of him and, in the brief moment that it took for Dean to regain his balance, the door had slammed closed, shutting him in the room. Dean turned a 360 degree circle, scanning the immediate environment but seeing nothing. Striding to the door, he grabbed the handle and pulled, he wasn't surprised when the door wouldn't budge.

"Well. Isn't this just freakin' great!"

...

Turning around to face back into the room he was now trapped in, Dean peered into the gloom, noticing for the first time that it had an eerie dark green glow. As he raised the glock, the phone in his jacket pocket vibrated, Dean only just managed to stop himself from firing off a random bullet in shock. Hurriedly he grabbed at his phone.

"Sam? That you?...Sammy?...Hello?...C'mon dude...whoever you are...talk to me... Sam? Crap. Sam, if that's you I can't hear you...Ok...If you can hear me, I'm stuck in an attic room at Ruth's place. Think I'm gonna need some help here...Sammy? Screw it!"

Frustrated, he ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

"I hope you could hear me little brother; hurry your ass on over here any time you like kiddo!"

...

Sam was almost sure that Dean's phone had been answered, but all he could hear was a soft and continuous background hiss and crackle. Repeating his brother's name gained him no response. Exasperated, Sam ended the call; then hit Dean's number on speed dial again. No change, it was still the same irritating noise he'd heard the first time around.

"Damn it!"

"Oh dear. Is there a Problem?"

...

Sam raised his head to find Ruth stood in the doorway bearing a tray of finger food and looking at him curiously.

"Er...No. No problem. Needed to speak to a friend, he's obviously not at home."

Ruth walked gracefully across the room and deposited her tray.

"Seems Barbara's been busy, help yourself."

Sam glanced behind Ruth.

"Where is she?"

"Little girl's room. Why? Do I make you nervous? Tall, strapping young man like you?"

Sam gave a slow smile.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether there's any reason I should be wary of you...Well? Is there?"

Ruth gazed at Sam intently, a vaugley curiouse expression on her face.

"You tell me Sammy. Are you afraid of me boy?"

...

This time Sam was certain, there was a flicker of something, something in the woman's eyes. Sam recognised a shift had somehow occurred, and that he and Ruth were now intellectually circling one another, weighing each other up, each trying to predict the other's possible next move, trying to gauge what the other one suspected, or knew. At the side of Sam, Bryn began a deep rumble in his throat. All of Sam's instincts told him that the woman did know something, had sensed something. He desperately needed to get hold of Dean...and soon.

...

Dean turned and kicked at the door futilely. Ok, so I need to figure out a different exit. Eyes having adjusted to the low light level, he visually scanned the room. He spotted one small skylight style window set into the slanting ceiling. It was covered by thick dirt and the dense leaves of some stray clinging ivy. There was some slight relief as Dean realised that the foliage was the cause of the green tinged light, rather than anything supernatural. The flooring in the room consisted of grimy, plain wood planking. Propped up against one wall was a broken circular wooden table top. Dean noticed three dust sheet covered mounds, the smallest having no defined outline and standing around 2', the next in size being around 4' in height, shaped as if the sheet lay over two or three stacked packing crates. The tallest covered mound being around 8' and very much cupboard or wardrobe shaped. Against another wall stood an old, battered, four drawer metal filing cabinet. Dean walked over to stand under the skylight window. At around 2' by 18" it would be a squeeze, but Dean reckoned he could get through and out onto the roof. The rest he would have to figure after that. First though, he needed something to stand on so he could actually reach the window which was a good 4 to 5 feet above his head. Staring up at his way out, Dean considered his options. If his guess about there being packing crates or boxes of some kind under one of the dust sheets was right, then a couple of those might just be what he needed. Shoving the glock into the back of his jeans he turned.

...

Dean's eyes opened wide as he, very unexpectedly, found himself confronting one of the dust sheets at close quarters, as it hovered and swayed in mid-air in a very un dust sheet like manner. Surprise put Dean on the back foot, and his reactions were too slow to avoid the dust sheet darting towards, up, over and around him. Twisting and writhing it began to tightly loop and tangle itself around Dean, wrapping itself across his arms and legs, pinning them against his body Unable to maintain his balance, Dean slammed to the floor. Panic engulfed him as part of the animated sheet pushed and force it's way into his mouth, effectively gagging him. The energy Dean put into his struggles was more than matched by the sheet rapidly forming parts of it's length into twisted shanks which then slid, eel like, around Dean's torso, climbing upward and encircling his chest until finally, to Dean's horror, he felt the thing wrap itself around his neck, and begin to gradually pull itself tighter.

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Until next time! ;)

Chick xx