Chapter 11: Half a Mind
He wasn't sure how long he must have laid there for. It felt like it had been an eternity, and each moment was still slowly ticking by. The clock on the wall above him was clicking, slowly driving him crazy as it reminded him that every second he lay there, that was one more second that he was alone.
He wanted to move, he really did. Lying on his side for this amount of time was beginning to take it's toll on his ribs, each breath was agonizing, for more reasons than one. The problem was, he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was as if he was trapped inside his body, feeling the physical and mental anguish, the emotions overwhelming him. But his muscles wouldn't respond.
He blamed his immobility on the vision. He had figured out that it had lasted about an hour and that kind of stress on your brain and body had caught up with him. Also running as fast as he did just after that must not have helped much.
Not fast enough…never fast enough…oh god…Dean.
His thoughts wouldn't leave him alone, but he was alone. His mother was gone, his father was gone, his Jess was gone…and now Dean.
No…he's not gone…he can't be…please god!
Truth be told, he didn't want to go on. He didn't want to live anymore, there was too much pain and failure. To many things had been stolen from him, and his brother…he had taken so much form his brother. And now because of him, Dean was somewhere with those monsters and who knows what's happening to him.
The sun started to come up, sending a warmth throughout the dead room, touching his skin. He shrank away from it, he didn't deserve to feel the sun. He didn't deserve the air in his lungs, it should be in the lungs of the people who had owned this house, and he felt as if he was robbing them of it.
He lost track of everything again as his vision blacked out but he remained awake. He finally was blinded.
It's too little too late.
He had used those words before, but somehow he felt even more hollow now than he had been the first time he said them. Losing John was one thing, he was his father and he loved him to death and beyond, but he knew he could go on without his father, he still had something left and his father had left him two jobs. Kill the demon. And stay with Dean.
I'm so sorry Dad…oh god I failed! Please forgive me…DEAN!
He could hear everything, the ticking clock, the singing birds, the rustle of the wind outside and suddenly…footsteps. Lots of them. Downstairs…on the stairs…on the landing. A wet squeak was heard…the blood.
Oh god…Dean's blood…please…it's a nightmare…I'm still in my vision. Wake up Sam!
The footsteps reached the open door and suddenly they stopped, there was some yelling but Sam couldn't understand anything they were saying. The only thing he knew was that someone else was there, an intruder. His instincts told him to fight, but his body would still not listen.
A man in a uniform walked into the room, followed by three more and they ran over to the bed, hoping that maybe these people were still alive. Of course they weren't, and the officers quickly realized that as they saw the gaping holes in their chests. One officer turned away from the bed, unable to stomach the sight. That's when he saw the large form huddled in the corner of the room, behind the door.
He pulled his gun and slowly approached the man lying on his side, facing the bed. Maybe they had finally found the culprit of the murders, maybe these brutal killings would now come to an end. But as he approached he quickly realized this man was not guilty of the murders.
The man was staring into space, not even blinking. He was shivering from head to toe and there were tear stains all over his cheeks. As he got even closer he noticed the young man's skin was a greyish colour and he looked completely exhausted.
Kneeling down in front of the man, he gently touched his shoulder but got no reaction. He turned to the other officers who had also drawn their guns. He nodded to them, reassuring this man was harmless, but then motioned that they'd need an ambulance.
Sam could hear the footsteps, he noticed the shadow over him, but he refused to acknowledge it. He didn't want help, he didn't deserve help. After a while he felt himself being rolled over and lifted, he was carried out of the house and set on a stretcher. As his body hit the stretcher he realized what he was doing.
NO! I have to find Dean! Run, come on!
Surprisingly his muscles decided to obey him and the next thing he knew, he was running down the street, cops chasing after him. Luckily his height advantage allowed him to lose them after only a few minutes and he ran the way back to the motel. He opened the door and entered, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again he made sure to divert them to the table with the computer on it. He couldn't handle seeing his brother's empty bed, the guns still lying across it when they had chosen their weapons the night before. He just walked over to the table and turned the chair and computer to face the wall, his back to the rest of the room. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep it up forever but for now he would pretend nothing was amiss.
Collapsing into the chair he rubbed his head, the pain from his vision was still lingering. It hadn't left him alone since he'd woken from it in the water, it had lessened slightly but hurt enough to limit his brain function.
He opened the laptop and started to search for the vacant buildings in the area. He wouldn't let anything stop him now, he had lost Dean and now it was his job to find him.
Don't worry big brother…I'm coming. I'm so sorry…please just wait…
It felt weird to be on the other side, is this how his brother had felt when the Benders had taken him? He couldn't believe Dean had kept it together to rescue him, and because his brother had, he owed it to him to do the same. So he sat, typing, reading, ignoring the pain and exhaustion. Nothing had or ever would keep him from his brother.
He had been searching for about 3 hours, compiling list after list, double checking on different sites, making sure he got every building that was a possibility. Warehouses, homes, construction sites, farms, anything he could think of went down on Dean's paper pad.
Finally he was content with the list so he stood slowly, stretching his back and wincing. His muscles were still sore from everything and even now the headache remained. He was starting to believe it would never leave him.
Good…it's a good reminder that I have something I need to do…that it's my responsibility. Now get your ass moving.
He turned towards his bed where his bag lay, glancing at Dean's bed. He took down a deep breath and grabbed a pair of pants from his duffle then hurried into the bathroom to get changed. When he was done he came out, grabbed his gun, the list, and the car keys. He left the room and made his way to Dean's pride and joy, opening the driver's door and getting in.
He wouldn't let his thoughts linger on how wrong it felt to drive her without Dean's permission or presence. He quickly turned the ignition and headed towards the first address.
He had checked about 5 buildings by the time the sun started to set, and his heart was in anguish. A day gone, and so was Dean. He had failed in finding him, and he had failed in keeping him. So he headed back to the motel, knowing that tonight he would have to patrol again, this time alone. It would take more time if he would have to cover all the ground himself but he was actually looking forward to it.
If he finds these things, maybe they'll lead him to Dean. But now he had another job, he had to protect someone else tonight.
What if I fail again?
Sam shook his head, not letting that thought linger because he wouldn't let himself fail. No way in hell. He reached the motel, dropped off the car and ran into his room, grabbing the few things he would need and immediately took off again to start his hunt.
He was around halfway through his hunt when he had spotted them. He had felt the terror, the rage, and the disgust that filled him when they had come into sight. But he didn't feel helpless, not this time. This time he could stop them, this time he didn't have to sit idly by and watch them steal lives. This time he could fight, and that's what he intended to do, fight tooth and nail until he couldn't fight anymore.
He refused to let his fear stop him and spotted their target before they reached the building. He darted across the street in order to be closer so that when they let themselves in he could do the same. He ducked behind a dumpster in an alley and prepared his exhausted body and pained mind for the fight. When the door opened and they disappeared behind it he ran forward and entered just after them, mimicking Dean's movements from the previous night.
He moved inside the building. It was a two story apartment building, small but big enough to hold eight apartments. Their were four on the first floor, two on each side and Sam could see from where he was standing that at the top of the stairs there were another four doors. He quickly moved to the staircase and began to climb, keeping low to the ground.
As he reached the top he stopped and momentarily sat on the step, catching his breath as a wave of dizziness hit him. He watched as the men entered the door furthest from him at the end of the hall, and he scrambled off the steps to make his way to the apartment. He had to save it's occupant…or occupants.
Oh god if there's two and they die…they'll have all the hearts they'll need. But then why would they take Dean?
Moving to the door that was standing slightly ajar, he peaked through the crack and saw a small living room. Not seeing his enemy anywhere, he entered the apartment, cautious of any sounds but still slightly out of it. His head was pounding even more now that he was here, his anxiety contributing to the lingering pain.
He hugged the wall and slowly moved down a hallway towards the bedroom door. His heart was beginning to race, his breathing was starting to become more shallow, and he could hardly control himself. He was pushing himself forward, towards his fears, towards murderers and possibly towards another death.
He pulled his glock out of his waistband, it might not hurt these things, but it might warn their victim of their attack before it's too late. He touched the door and pushed slightly, letting it open more, allowing him to see the contents of the room.
There they stood, all encasing the bed, all in their black-suited horror, all staring down at the lone woman in her bed. She was still sleeping so the first thing Sam did was cock his gun and fire a shot at the closest monster. The blast that resounded throughout the hole town effectively woke the woman from her slumber.
She stared, completely frozen in fear, at the things standing around her bed. Then her eyes moved to the source of the sound and she saw the young man standing with a gun pointing at the creature closest to him. She looked at him, and he looked at her, their eyes met and she knew right away that he was trying to save her.
He knew she understood why he was here and only hoped that he would be able to accomplish his goal, she couldn't die, not like this.
He stood, gun levelled at the creature in front of him, waiting for some kind of reaction. The bullet didn't seem to do any kind of damage to the thing and all of the monsters attention was still fixed on the girl in the bed while she stared at him with a pleading look in her eyes.
Then, slowly, all the heads turned in his direction, all moving in unison. He could feel the colour drain from his face as he was met with every maniacal grin the rooms contents could muster. But then he saw the girl, and his arm didn't falter, his feet didn't betray him and his determination stayed strong.
He fired shot after shot at the things, trying to draw them away from her, anything that would give her time to escape. She bullets hit their targets and sank into the suits, creating holes in the fabric but nothing else. Still he carried on. Sam was not a quitter and he could not let another person die for these things.
Come on you bastards! You want a strong heart? COME AND GET IT!
He began to advance on the monsters, tempting them to move forward. It was then that he realized his mistake. His eyes quickly spun around the room, looking at each creature. One, two, three, four, five, six, sev…where was the seventh?
Pain, everything was shrouded in pain all of a sudden. He gasped, his grip on his gun faltered and it clattered to the floor. His now glazed eyes darted around the room, trying to put the pieces together, trying to pinpoint the cause of the sudden agony.
His arm slowly reached behind him, feeling for anything. And he found it, embedded in his lower back, surrounded in the warmth he knew to be his blood. A dagger, no, a hunting knife, big. But not big enough to kill him, he knew that much. His hand slid over the hilt of the knife as his knees dropped him to the floor. He was now kneeling in front of these demons, a humiliating stance and he could feel his shame building.
How could he have been so reckless…so stupid. Why wasn't he completely prepared?
He was still holding onto the knife when he shifted his gaze to the girl. She must have been about 20, blonde, tall for a girl too and very pretty. But her eyes, Sam would never forget them at this one moment.
They were filled with anguish, fear, hopelessness, helplessness and most of all, anger. She was angry at these things, not for breaking into her home and threatening to kill her, but because they had attacked the man who was trying to save her life. Someone she sensed to be very much like herself, strong and kind-hearted. She could tell just by looking into his eyes that he would give his life for hers in a second. Warmth and kindness lived there, in the green orbs, but also loss, sorrow and a deep guilt eating at his soul.
She was infuriated, she didn't care what these things did to her anymore, she just wanted to help him. But she couldn't, she saw that as the monster who had stabbed him quickly drew it's knife like fingers around his neck, pulling him back. She saw the man wince and shut his eyes against the pain, and then the syringe when it was imbedded into his neck.
As he blacked out, they both shared the exact same thought.
I'm so sorry I couldn't save you.
The only thing she was relieved about was that he wouldn't have to be a witness to her demise. She didn't want anyone to have to watch that. The thought of herself dying terrified her, but she knew it was inevitable. That didn't mean she wouldn't fight, she'd fight until they pulled every last bit of her life out of her, but she knew that they would win.
So that's what she did, she fought, she died fighting. She died thinking of her family and friends, silently apologizing to each of them that she never got the chance to say goodbye. She said her final farewells to the world, ignoring the pain her body was enduring and allowing her mind to wander over her wonderful life. And then everything went black, and she was gone.
Sam would always remember those eyes, her face would never leave him. In that one moment he had felt love for her, not the kind he had felt for Jess, but a deep seeded compassion shared between human beings of the same nature. And it killed him knowing that he would never see those eyes alive ever again. And once again, it was his fault.