Chapter 12
As Sam readied his stance, clutching a knife in his jacket and fully prepared to go into battle with the demon's henchwoman, a familiar voice entered into the room.
"Now, that won't be necessary," it said. And as quickly as that, the girl who had dreamed of domination rolled her eyes into herself and fell into a lifeless heap of human meat.
Suddenly aware of the new and very dangerous presence in the room, Sam adjusted his stance to face the source of the voice. Gripping the hilt of the knife and summoning the energy within him, he waited for his next move.
"You'd think she would have seen that coming!" the demon chuckled to himself. "I mean, do the bad guys ever keep their promises?" Sam couldn't tell, but was the demon actually wiping a tear from its eye?
Even though the witch wanted to kill him, Sam still felt the rage surface at seeing a demon take the life of what essentially was, at her bitchy little core, only human. Sam fed off of this realization, using it to his advantage to fuel the flames inside of him once more. He needed all that he could get.
The demon, this Dontallion, or whatever the hell he wanted to be called, approached Sam in the meat suit he'd previously worn upon entering the party. Trenchcoat billowing in an unseen wind, Dontallion lent himself to a truly intimidating presence.
"I'll spare you the demonic tirade, Sam. I'm here to take only what I need. With such two powerful hunters stumbling into my domain, I couldn't resist taking a bite."
From behind the demon, a voice screamed. "Sam! Get out of here!" and with that Sam was once again transported to a place where light suffocates under the pressures of infinite nightmare. A blood-tipped spear flew past Sam's line of sight, and he ducked just in time to see the spiteful blade cut into delicate flesh. Thousands of bodies swung around him, dripping, helpless rag dolls that hung like so many carcasses upon hooks in a butcher shop. Fires rose around him, painting the walls of the cavernous prison with shadow and ash.
"Sam!" he heard his brother yell.
"Dean?!" Sam called back desperately. "Dean? I hear you! Where are you?"
"It's not real, Sam!" he heard Dean's voice echo through the screams. "It's a trick! Don't give in to him!"
Spinning around, Sam pushed back flailing arms and moans. He could hear Dean's voice, the agony inside of it. He could only imagine the pain he was going through, the hooks driving themselves into his brother's flesh again. How could he have let this happen?
"He feeds off of it, Sam! I can fight it," Dean's voice called out, "but you need to fight, too!"
Sam fell to his knees, pushing his own blood stained palm against his pounding forehead. Whatever Dontallion was doing to him, it was working. This illusion, the nightmare he had set in place, was becoming too real. Whatever realm he had entered, Sam knew that his life and, more importantly, his brother's life depended on keeping a firm grip on reality.
"I can't…I can't…see you, Dean" Sam cried out to the blackness that had begun to close around him.
"I can't…" Sam couldn't finish the sentence. He felt the darkness completely consume him, his lungs filling with sulfur and smoke. The demon, still standing above his weak opponent's convulsing body spread his black-lined lips into a toothy grin, while the party-goers above remained unaware of the epic battle that was taking place beneath their feet.