All Sam would tell Lenore was that he would have Maria's location before the end of the week. She didn't ask questions, which was good. He didn't want to tell her the answers.
If Dean knew what he was going to do Sam's ass would be grass.
It took him two days to prepare, and a third just to work up the guts to commit to doing it. He had everything he needed. Lenore was on hand, "just in case I stop breathing or something." Again, she didn't ask questions. She knew what he was attempting, she just didn't know he actually had the power to do it. He could sense her skepticism. He threw her a bone.
"I'm clairvoyant."
"Is that how you found your way back to the nest that night?" she asked quietly.
"Partially, mostly because I'm a damn good tracker."
"You know this is pretty dangerous stuff you're playing with here, Sam."
"I know."
"But..." she prompted.
He met her eye. "I want my brother back."
She tipped her head in a nod of acquiescence. Sam turned to the business at hand.
The spell was surprisingly simple, but that was often no indication of its power, or potential danger. A lot of that was determined by the amount of power available to the one performing the ritual. Sam had every reason to be concerned.
He rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. Years of training made incantation almost second nature for him. His low voice was perfectly suited to it. His pronunciation was flawless. By the age of nine he had bested his father in the art of Latin recitation. By thirteen he could read exorcisms written in half a dozen different ancient languages. He knew Aramaic.
Dean could barely read English.
He felt a surge of affection, allowed himself a small smile. So Dean wasn't an academic. He made up for it in other ways.
By the blood we share...
He winced as the knife dug into his palm. He clenched his fist and pumped it several times. Blood dripped steadily into a silver bowl sitting on the table before him. From somewhere behind him he heard Lenore hiss. The scent of blood was probably making her uncomfortable. He'd forgotten that it might. He'd have to apologize to her for his insensitivity later.
Sam closed his eyes and continued the recitation.
Bonded by blood, I seek thee...
He let his mind go blank, calling on the knowledge he'd gained from his research, slipping deeper and deeper into the trance he needed. The power was there. He could feel it just beyond his reach.
Deeper.
Deeper.
There.
I seek thee...Dean, where the hell are you?
Light burst before his eyes. It was like one of his visions, but different. He felt no pain.
In fact, he felt pretty good.
He opened his eyes. A face hovered before him, beneath him.
Her eyes were the dark green color of an Old World forest, lit with a fire burning deep within. Her lips were full and sensuous, plump and red like ripe berries. He felt her hands trace the length of his spine as he moved against her, inside her. She bit deep into his shoulder. He heard himself utter a sharp cry of pain. The pace of their lovemaking increased, grew more desperate, almost primal in its intensity.
Her lips came up bloodstained. He bent to taste them. She guided his head so he could put his mouth to her throat, to her breasts, encouraging him to bite back, which he did. He tasted her blood then, good, sweet, hot blood. It made him come, made him want more. She arched up against him when he bit her again.
Raising her hands to his face, she held him, gazing deeply into his eyes. He knew from her pleased expression she expected to see something else. When she did not find what she was seeking, but rather something totally unexpected, her look turned ominous. Her snarl revealed a set of vicious fangs.
"Sam," she growled, and pulled back a fist.
Sam cried out as the blow connected. Pulling away from the pain, he fled from the light, seeking the safety of his own mind and body. His vision became obscured by shadows. He faltered and lost his way until a flickering light caught his attention. Instinctively he turned toward it, fearing the shadows now seeming to close in around him. As he fumbled around in the dark the light drew him in closer, and closer until he could see it much better
It was a sickly yellow-green, the color of pus, and came from within a pair of slit-pupiled eyes staring back at him. Those eyes caught him, pinned him, held him fast. He felt the touch of an alien consciousness as it sought to make contact and instead of pulling away, he reached for it.
No. I...can't...
For a split second he was completely enthralled, straining to hear the whispering voices, wanting to hear what they said, do what they asked. His flight back to his body was aborted. He was lost. The demon had him. It spoke to him in his father's voice.
I wondering when you would finally come to me.
Panic stricken by the words, Sam suddenly began to fight for his freedom, trying to claw his way back out of the dark. He regained his strength of will. He was himself again.
Let. Me. GO!
White light flared. He felt the demon's hold loosen and heard its roar of frustration as Sam slipped away from it and dove for "home."
Sam's eyes snapped open, revealing a seedy hotel room and his own reflection upon the still surface of a bowl of bloody water. It startled him. His head jerked back so violently he heard his neck pop. One hand shot out toward the bowl, knocking it over and spilling its contents across the table. Bloodstained water dripped down onto the carpet. The blood scent triggered memories of a red-haired woman with pale skin and green eyes. He could feel the last vestiges of an orgasm not his own shuddering through his body, and the rapid flutter of his wildly beating heart.
He'd found Maria.
The demon had almost taken him.
He couldn't breathe. Lenore was there beside him, shaking his shoulder.
"Sam? Sam!"
Sam pushed her away. Staggering to his feet he stumbled into the bathroom where he was violently ill. Lenore came to him a moment later, sinking down to her knees beside him with a cool, damp cloth. She cleaned his face, pushed the sweat soaked tendrils of his hair back from his eyes. He sagged heavily against her, struggling to catch his breath. It was a long time before he could speak.
Finally...
"I know where he is."