A/N: Not death fic, not death fic, not death fic. Thank you Abni! I'm speechless with gratitude. Sorry for the slow update, power outage!
Screaming for Vengeance
Chapter Thirteen
It was there in front of Sam. He could see unending night standing between him and his brother, keeping Dean trapped, separated from Sam. He could just make out Dean's shirt and his brother's face, light in the inky night. He could hear the soft sighing purr singing in the night, singing to his brother, weaving his brother's death on the notes of its soft song.
No, Dean, not like this. No.
Sam picked himself up, moving back to their shelter, creeping back unnoticed, it was distracted, focused on Dean. Sam slipped to the fire and carefully, slowly, lifted a burning branch, and another and another. He flung himself towards where it held his brother and threw the flaming branches down onto the ground, down where the shriveled remains of the dead forest lay. "NO!" He shouted into the night, at the dark shadow shape holding his brother.
The ground slowly caught, flickering in the night, then, suddenly, flame exploded outward as if the forest wished to drive it from the woods, as if even the lost remnants of the trees wanted to send it back to the dark night it had come from. The fire spread outwards, toward where it stood, light against the untouched dark. It sighed, the rush of pleasure, of anticipation clear in that soft voice. The shadow shape shifted, flickering in the fire.
Sam saw Dean collapse. He raced forward through the fire, forcing his body into movement to get to his brother. He grabbed Dean and pulled him up, dragging him towards their shelter, away from where it was standing in the flames. He dropped to the ground, pulling Dean against him, holding him in his arms, letting his brother's head rest against his shoulder. "Dean?"
"Sam?' Dean's eyes focused on him, there was no strength left in his voice. "Good job," he said with a gentle smile.
"Dean, hang on, once the fire is out I'll get you out of here."
"Sure, Sam," he said as he relaxed in Sam's arms.
It was screaming in fury, he could hear the rage and the pleasure in the shriek as it stood in the flames, burning. He knew it was watching him, learning something of him as he held his brother. Sam looked down at Dean and saw the black tendrils slowly curling out from Dean's neck, slowly spinning the poison through his brother, the dark lines tracing a pattern, making a map of death on Dean's body. Oh, god, no. Dean. How can I stop this? How can I help?
"Dean," he said looking down at his brother. Just give me time to get us out of here, please hang on.
"Yeah?" His brother's voice was a mere wisp of sound.
"Hang on." Come on Dean, hang on. He could feel the tears as they ran down his face.
"Trying, Sam. I'm trying."
Sam looked up from Dean, out over the fire, out into the clearing. The fire he had set was dying down, he could see the dark shape at the edge of the flickering flames, taking the light into itself, screaming its pleasure. Sam knew it was coming again. He heard the soft sigh and the crackling explosions as it slipped over the sparking embers as it began to move towards them. No, not again. You are not taking him. This ends now. He gently set Dean down. He stood, placing himself between his brother's body and the approaching shadow. He held a burning branch before him, a primitive, archaic weapon to drive back the night, the light from the flame playing on his face as he stood waiting for it to come.
No, you don't get him. No. I will stop you.
Something slipped into his mind. Something soft, something sharp, something dark, it slid into him. He felt it expand, filling him—he was seeing visions of death, of the ages it had walked the earth, the things it had seen, the lives it had touched. Visions of horrors it had brought. Visions of the plans it had made, many years before, and how it had followed his brother, knowing him, planning for this final moment. Sam saw it all. But he saw more. He saw what it planned, he saw what it would do. He saw what it intended for his brother. That horror drove him down, clutching his head, screaming in agony, shouting his defiance.
In that instant the claws reached through fire. It slid the great curved blades into Dean and began pulling him away, out of the fire, away from Sam. He dropped the branch and grabbed his brother's hand, holding him, trying to keep him there, feeling Dean slipping away.
"No Dean. Not like this, the fight isn't over. We aren't finished yet." Dean just hang on, please just hang on to me.
"Sammy," and there was nothing left in his brother's voice, just the soft whisper of a sigh. "I'm finished, let it take me, let me go." Dean squeezed his hand in farewell and let go.
No Dean, no. It's not over, it lied to you. If it takes you it is the beginning not the end. Sam knew, as surely as if Dean had told him that was what it had let Dean think. But Sam had seen a little more, something had allowed him to see a little further into it. He knew what would come now, death would rain down, the horrors it had once brought would come again and it could revel in the world, knowing it, walking it, bringing blood to water the flowers of death.
"DEAN! This isn't finished!" He shouted to the night, to his brother as he was dragged away. Sam started after it desperate to get to his brother. He tripped, stumbling over the pack, he grabbed it, picked up a burning branch and set out into the dark night, following the sound of his brother's body as it was dragged through the silent forest.
They were going upwards, ever upwards. The hill was steep and unending. Sam was forcing his body to keep going, each step was harder, each moment was becoming a frozen second of pain. He kept going. Rage was moving him on, keeping him warm, holding the venom it had sent into his body away. He kept going. I need to find Dean, I need to get to Dean. I need to find him, I need to get to him. He could still feel his brother's hand squeezing his and then letting go, willingly going into the night, hoping to end this. Dean, this isn't finished.
He kept going on. The ground was deeply scarred as if great claws had torn the earth apart, ripping the earth open, leaving it wounded. Jagged stones rose before him, like a great temple. Their presence marking the opening into the earth itself, their broken, shattered sides a reflection of the violence of the moment of their birth. The stones, some huge, were blocking Sam, holding him back from the terror behind them, from the horror they hid from the eyes of the world.
It was beginning to get light, Sam glimpsed the dark shadow moving away from him. In the steadily growing light he could see his brother as he was dragged like a rag doll behind a child. Suddenly they disappeared into the mountain, swallowed up by the darkness of the earth. Sam ran to the void that had taken his brother.
There was no sound but a far away drop of water.
There was no light except the sunrise behind him, bathing the blackened landscape in rays of deep red flowing over the rocky ground like the blood of a thousand years.
"DEAN!" He yelled into the cave, he screamed across the landscape, willing his brother to answer, he paused.
There was nothing, no life, no sound, only the blood red light.
XXX
"Dean! This isn't finished!" Dean heard his brother scream as he was pulled into the dark, the great claws tearing into his flesh, the pain radiating out, trying to take his life. He hoped he would lose consciousness, he willed his body to let go, but somehow the black poison slowly filling his body with the fetid death would not let him leave. He must stay, must suffer, must not go until it was ready to let him go.
Which is just great. Dragged through the night, bleeding, hitting my head over and over again and I get to hang around for all of it. Just freaking great. If I'd known I would have had Sammy shoot me or something. What happened to my gun? I dropped it last night I think. Was that only last night? Oh god, it hurts.
Sam, are you ok? Just go, get yourself safe. Please let Sam be ok.
Where are we going? Up another hill I think. Oh god it hurts, let it end soon. How many hills are in this forest? I wonder if there's cell reception on top of a big one, Sam would know, he knows stuff like that. Are you ok? Sam? You had better be getting out of here or I'll haunt your ass. Oh, please let this stop soon.
The ground had changed. Instead of the soft pine needles and cold mud he had been pulled through, now there were rocks, jagged, cutting into him as if he were dragged across broken glass. His hands were sliced as they moved across the black stones.
He tried to see it, tried to get a glimpse of what had pulled him through the night, what had torn him from his brother, what had hunted him for years. He could see nothing, just the great shadow shape moving through the landscape, pulling him to his death.
That's funny, it looked almost like light back behind us. Sunrise must be coming soon. No, it looked different, like it was moving, flickering. What is that? Sam? No, Sam, no. Turn around. Go back. Don't be a damned fool about this, Sammy. This is over, I'm finished, there's no way out for me anymore, its in my mind. Sam? It hurts, I can't stand it anymore, I just want it finished, I'm sorry. Go back, please Sam. Oh god, let it be finished, let this end, please let it end.
He was dragged away from the light, he watched the gray sky disappear above him, replaced by complete darkness, the unending night from whence it came, the place where it waited and watched. It pulled him deep into the bowels of the earth. And it paused there in that place of silence, of unrelieved night, and he felt himself dropped down onto the unforgiving ground.
The darkness was complete, no light had touched the place where he lay since the beginning of time. It was a place of eternal night, a place without sound, without life. The shadow walked there, keeping its kingdom, lurking patiently in that web of the earth, silent, watching, driving all else away. Nothing else moved here, nothing would come here. Even the things that brought terror to the world would not enter this dark kingdom.
Dean tried, and failed, to push himself over, his body was no longer his own. All that was left, all that remained was the icy cold agony burning through him. He had no voice, he had no body, only the pain. It was taking everything. He could feel the last pieces of himself slipping away, his soul seeping with his blood into the cold ground, pulled away into the void.
It was coming. He could hear the soft sigh approaching, moving towards him. It was coming. He could hear the song now, filling the cavern where he lay, the sound amplified by the walls until it was a living thing, a creature that drove this mind screaming from it. It was the song of terror. It was a song of pleasure. The sound was physical now, moving through his body, tracing the lines of the poison, igniting them into line of molten pain. He screamed, there was no sound, just the scream reverberating through his brain, the scream begging it to let this end.
It was there.
He felt it beside him, he sensed it standing there. It snuffled softly, lovingly. It was happy. It had waited a long time for this, it was going to make this last. He felt its breath on his face, cold, a blast of wind from the frozen depths. It placed one of the claws on his head, gently against his forehead, the sharp point poised above his eyes, resting there, waiting, just a gentle touch of a sharpened needle.
Its mind slid into his again, at first gently like the claw holding him down, then stabbing in with violence, wounding, seeking. His body arched against the invasion, trying to force it out, trying to end the pain.
Please let me die.
And still it held him, the visions pounding into his head. Horror after horror there before eyes that he couldn't close. And still that gentle claw holding him down. It finally started to pull away, taking pieces of him with it like the flesh it had taken when it had pulled its claws away.
Please let this end.
It bent over him again. Snuffling, purring like a kitten. It touched him with the claw, drawing a line across his throat, slicing even so carefully. It tasted his blood. Still it waited. The song began again. The final horror was coming.
NO! He screamed. Let this end. Take me and let this end.
And it moved away, back into the dark, moving into the depths of the earth. He heard the soft sigh as it disappeared. He sensed it there, somewhere beyond him, waiting for something, watching for something. And he knew, the realization filling him with horrors yet unseen. It tricked me, this isn't the end, this is the beginning. It will come for Sam, it will take him, it will destroy everything.
And he heard its song, he heard its laughter. He understood it finally and it was pleased.
His mind screamed in desperation at the thought, the sound filling every fiber of his being, merging with the black poison, pulling him closer to the edge. The song wound around him like the tendrils of black death, moving through him carving paths of pain through him, until, suddenly, another sound began to push into his awareness. He couldn't identify it, couldn't force his mind back to focus on that sound. He was finally slipping, the agony was finally taking him away, he could feel the cold rising up, preparing to pull him away into the ice. He was ready. But still the black death in his body waited, pausing, holding him at the threshold of that long night. He willed it to come, begged it to come faster.
"Dean!' The voice cut into him, pulling him back from the edge.
Sammy? Sammy?
Light flickered against his eyelids. He felt his brother's hand against his neck. "No, Dean. No." And his brother was crying, sobbing. "NO! " he screamed, Dean could feel the rage pulsing out of Sam, filling the chamber as the sound of vengeances echoed around him. "YOU WILL DIE FOR THIS! YOU KILLED MY BROTHER, YOU DIE FOR THIS!"
Sam, I'm still here, I think. Sam? He heard his brother moving away. No, Sam, please, please don't leave me here in the dark. Not alone in the dark, Sam.
Suddenly he could hear Sam moving, could see the light shifting. SAM! Warmth was spreading through the cave, it was getting lighter against his closed eyes. Something touched his leg, warm then hot, melting the ice flowing over his body, a small touch of spring in never ending winter. His leg jumped, he felt it move.
He sensed movement beside him. "Dean?" He felt Sam put his hand down on his chest, the point of contact warm, comforting, pushing the cold away a little more. "Oh god, Dean. You're alive. You're alive." Dean felt himself lifted, held gently against his brother. "I'll get us out of here."
It was coming, Dean sensed it, felt it reach out to him once more, sliding the knife sharp edge of its mind into him, forcing him to see, forcing him to share its moment. No, no. It was watching his brother carrying him out of the cave, looking across the fire Sam had set, blocking its way. He felt its desire to consume him, to keep him there in the darkness, holding him trapped in the unceasing moment of pain. He was outside, Sam set him on the ground, propping him against his body, his arms cradling him, supporting him. And he felt it laugh as it watched. He could never escape.
It paused by the fire, looking across to him, looking from his eyes, letting him see through its eyes. It stepped into the fire, the death Sam had set willingly faced, a test for itself, the boundaries of its mortality broken. It was enraged that it had been slowed, it struck out, hitting at him, forcing its mind ever deeper into him, pulling his soul away—it would take Dean with it. It would force him to share its moment in this bright sparking death.
Pain, agony, a burning line of fire filled his mind. His body reacted, pulling away from the pain, from the visions, from the touch of fire slowly tracing into its flesh. It was screaming, he could hear it as it tore through the earth. He could feel it there, reaching out to him, the flames, the light of the fire torturing it, torturing him.
"Dean! DEAN!" His brother's voice, pulling him back, pulling him away from the deathly flames.
He struggled towards his brother, fighting the pain, trying to drive back the black poison still tracing its way through him, still pulling his life away in a dance of death. Sam, I don't know if I can.
"Dean! Your leg, oh my god, your leg," Sam said, desperation and What is that Sam? joy in his brother's voice. "I have an idea." He put Dean down and moved away. He was back a minute later. "This might hurt."
Hurt, Sam? I'm not sure I even know what that means anymore. What are you doing? Sam? What the hell are you doing? Sam? It's ok, you got me out, it's ok. You're ok, and that's what matters.
Suddenly heat was pressed against his leg. Fire burning against him like it had consumed the dark shadow. The pain ripped up from his ankle, spreading out in fingers of agony, a web of unending, unremitting pain. It exploded through him, tearing him away, driving the dark out of him in a blaze of white hot pain. And the realization curled through him like the pain, the fear finally leaving him as the black tendrils were ripped from his body. It was gone, his mind, his soul were his own again. The rage flowed out of him with its touch, the fire slowly dying down. He stopped fighting and he could feel Sam's arms around him, holding him. At last the gentle dark could come, he sank down into the night and all was silent.
It has ended, thank you Sam.
To Be Continued