Somehow they'd lost Sasha in the storm as she'd gone sprinting away from the car, although as Sam got closer to Stanley Hall, Dean keeping pace with him as they ran, he could still hear faint screams over the sounds of the rainfall, the rumble of thunder and the howl of the wind. Was Sasha really still screaming out of what they had seen in the trunk of the Impala or had somebody else found her in the darkness?
Sam forced himself not to think that way. Sasha was strong and smart and even if she had encountered anybody unpleasant he knew her well enough that she wouldn't just stay and scream. Besides this setting didn't fit any urban legends so there was no way the killer was something they had to concern themselves with…yet.
"Slow down!" Dean roared, throwing an arm out to catch Sam as they came up to the entrance of Stanley Hall, looming over the darkness and the storm like a twisted old sentinel, it's windows boarded up, and all completely dark…at least at first glance. As Sam stood there, peering up at the old house with his brother he noticed flashes of pale light filtering in between the boards at irregular intervals…somebody was in there using a flashlight…
"We've gotta check it out," Sam said to Dean grimly, even though he felt that it was a bad idea. Somebody was in there and he knew without knowing how that whoever it was would be involved with the murders, even if it wasn't the killer. Dean looked at him levelly, rain pouring down his face, his hair sopping wet. He shook his head slowly.
"No fucking way Sam," he said firmly. "There's no way of knowing who or what the hell is in there."
"It might be Sasha!" Sam pressed.
"What so she just found a flashlight on the ground? Sam she didn't have one when she left the car."
A flash of lightning illuminated Dean's face. Sam knew exactly why it was that Dean didn't want to go in there, at least not the both of them. The promise that he'd made in the car came back to him and Sam could have almost laughed at the idea that he'd vowed to Dean that he wouldn't die, as though he had any control over it. No matter what, he knew that whoever was in Stanley Hall needed their help and he wasn't going to stand out here and just let that person fall victim to the killer.
As though to emphasize that point a high pitched scream echoed from within the walls of the old dormitory house. Sam and Dean both looked towards the noise and Sam started forward but Dean grabbed him around the arm and pulled him back.
"NO SAM!" He shouted as a loud rumble of thunder almost drowned out his words. "I'm not letting you go in there. Not when you know this thing is going after you! You'd be walking right into it!"
"Well that's just too fucking bad Dean because I'll be god-damned if I'm going to let you go waltzing in by yourself either!" Sam said hotly. For a moment Dean's face looked completely broken and Sam realized that he was being too forceful. In a gentler tone he said "Look, I love you Dean and I know you don't want me to get hurt…but I know there's somebody in there that needs us okay? And if it is the killer…then we can put a stop to this right now!" He glared hard at Dean, determined to show him that he wasn't going to budge. For a moment Dean looked mutinous, torn between the option of keeping Sam safe and helping to prevent more deaths.
"Alright," he said grudgingly. "Alright we'll go in together but you better stay right by me Sammy…I'm not ready to lose you."
Sam gave Dean a grateful nod, kissed him quickly and then they headed up the lawn and to the front steps of Stanley Hall. The screams hadn't stopped and now that they were this close to the building Sam could hear whoever it was pleading with someone…it wasn't Sasha, but he recognized the voice over the din of the storm.
"Ah shit!" He spat as he and Dean mounted the rickety wooden stairs, "Dean it's Brenda! She's in there!"
"With the killer…" Dean finished his eyes on the front doors which had been hacked to splinters. Sam stared wide eyed at the wreckage for a moment. Brenda, sweet, bubbly Brenda was in there with the killer. He felt fire erupt in his chest and before Dean could stop him Sam brushed by him and stepped over the remainder of the door and into the front hall of the old, abandoned dorm building. Paul was dead, Sasha was nowhere to be found and now Brenda was being hunted by the murderer who had taken so much from him…he wasn't going to let someone else die just because the killer wasn't done playing with him.
"BRENDA!" Sam yelled as Dean scrambled through the door behind him.
"SAAAM! HELP!" He heard Brenda's distant scream. It was coming from upstairs. He glanced at Dean, both of them drenched from the storm that raged outside. Dean nodded at him and together they headed off towards the double stairs that swooped down from the upper levels of the dorm. Sam didn't care that he and Dean had left their guns in the Impala, or that Stanley Hall had been the sight of a massacre or that it was dark and that the killer was in here. All he knew was that he was no longer afraid…he was livid and when he found the person responsible for all of this he was going to kill them twice over.
"Careful," Dean said as they approached the stairs. Thunder rumbled from outside and all but shook the ancient foundations of the hall. The stairs were old and groaned under their combined weight as they slowly climbed up. Brenda let out a long scream of panic from somewhere over head…which died all at once. Sam and Dean stood stock still on the stairs, listening as the rain pounded against the sides of the building.
"Brenda…" Sam said with a moan. Dean put a firm hand on his shoulder to steady him but for the first time Sam did not feel the warm comfort of it. The killer had gotten to Brenda…there was nobody left among his friends besides Sasha who for all he knew was running around outside, confused and afraid.
"She could still be alright Sammy," Dean whispered comfortingly in his ear. "We'll check upstairs okay but we are not split-" Dean stopped dead mid-word, his eyes on something on the landing just ahead of them. Sam could see it too, something round and bulky that sat on the landing, barely visible through the darkness. He made a move to go up and investigate but this time Dean held him back. "Stay put," he said and for once Sam listened, watching as Dean carefully climbed up the remaining steps. He crouched down in front of the thing. At the same moment a flash of lightning illuminated the hall and Dean let out a yelp and leapt away from the thing on the top of the stairs.
"Oh shit…" he groaned. "Oh shit oh shit…"
"Dean what is it?" Sam demanded, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time. The second he was within an inch of the thing he immediately regretted it. Lightning flashed again and Sam felt his veins ice over. It was a human head, a vaguely familiar human head with short black hair, its grotesque dead face frozen in a revolting expression of shock.
"That's Michelle…" Sam said his voice as numb as his mind. "Michelle Mancini…" He turned to Dean who was giving the head a wide berth, disgust on his face. Sam didn't even want to know how the killer had gotten it from the authorities, although he wondered vaguely if the police ever had actually collected Michelle's head from the crime scene.
Something thumped down the stairs from the other end of the hall. Sam whirled around and let out a yelp of alarm. The killer was standing at the opposite end of the hall, the double ended axe swinging idly in one hand.
"SAM RUN!" Dean shouted and Sam didn't need telling twice. He turned on his heel and sprinted in the opposite direction, following Dean as they ran half-blindly down the corridor, the killer hot on their hells, kicking Michelle's head unceremoniously down the stairs as he pursued them.
If Wexler had indeed survived the original massacre twenty-five years ago then he must have had a very good sense of direction, Sam realized as he and Dean scrambled through the darkness. The hallway here was narrow with sharp corners and opened into other rooms, some of which were locked. It was almost impossible to see where they were going without any kind of light source and with the killer on their heels Sam couldn't help but feel blind panic rising in his chest.
Dean was right behind him and pushed him on and on through the hall until Sam was sure they must have run around the whole of the second floor at least twice. Every now and then he would hear the sound of the killer's axe thudding into the walls behind them and he prayed to everything from God to Buddha that Dean wouldn't be on the receiving end of the blade the next time it sailed through the air.
Sam's heart sank the second he and Dean came across a part of the hall where the roof from above had caved in from years of neglect.
"FUCK!" Sam spat, wheeling around and grabbing Dean's arm as the killer turned around the corner behind them. He met his older brother's gaze. For some reason Dean didn't look panicked or afraid…he was rather calm and collected, his eyes showing a million thoughts and feelings at once in spite of the maniac at the end of the hall who was slowly approaching them, his footfalls thudding on the creaky wooden floorboards.
"I love you Sammy," Dean said, smiling softly at him. He pulled Sam in for a soft kiss…then shoved him from him bodily and through a door directly behind Sam that he hadn't noticed before. Sam's whole world turned upside down momentarily. He saw Dean slam the door shut, heard the lock click from the outside and heard his older brother charge down the hallway with a feral roar.
"DEAN!" Sam all but screamed, scrambling over broken tile and cobwebs and pounding on the heavy door, his mind numb with what had just happened. "DEAN NO!" His fists slammed into the wood, he threw his whole body weight against the door but it did not budge no matter how hard he tried. He heard the struggle, heard Dean cursing and yelling…and then he heard them both, Dean and the murderer, thud down the distant stairs and crash to the ground floor. "Dean…" Sam said numbly, sinking against the door as images of his brother broken on the dusty baseboards one floor below filled his head. Sam squeezed his eyes shut tight, feeling the crushing sense of loss build up in him until all he had left to do was scream at the top of his lungs, "YOU SON OF A BITCH WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THIS!? YOU PROMISED!"
He knew why of course. It was such an incredibly Dean thing to do, always putting Sam first and thinking of how to keep him safe even though Sam was perfectly capable of looking after himself. Dean had probably had it planned this way in the back of his mind; if they couldn't take out the killer together then at least one of them would go out with the bastard. And of course Dean would make sure it wasn't Sam.
Dean was gone…after all the two of them had been through, after all they'd shared from the second Dean had turned up at Wexler's seminar to the time they'd spent together back at the frat house that seemed so long ago, Dean had still been ripped away from him, just like everything else. Sam wanted to be angry, wanted to scream and rave at Fate for being such a bitch and taking things from him all the time but he didn't have the energy to do anything other than sit numbly on the floor of the bathroom Dean had trapped him in and feel the sobs die as they tried to escape his lungs.
For a long time he simply sat there, staring at the pulled shower curtain opposite the door. The thunder was growing distant although lightning was still flashing at regular intervals and the rain and wind were still pounding against the walls of Stanley Hall. Then, as though being controlled by wires, Sam got to his feet and walked slowly forwards towards the shower, his feet crunching over broken floor tiles and the collected dust of decades. Without knowing why he yanked the curtain open and let out a groan of horror when he saw the crumpled body of Professor Wexler lying in the tub, large punctures in his torso and neck, his eyes bugging out of his wizened face.
Somehow the sight of the old man's body seemed to shake things back into place for Sam. Everybody was gone, even Wexler…but Sasha was still out there…yes…Sasha…Sasha who so far had never once crossed Sam's mind as a suspect, who could have had any opportunity to be at the scene of the crimes…hell she was the one who had told them about Parker…As much as it pained him to think about Sam couldn't help but play with the notion. After all, he and Dean had guessed before that the killer was somebody among Sam's group of friends.
Narrowing his eyes, Sam turned leaned over Wexler's body. There was a large gaping hole in the wall behind the bathtub, obviously having collapsed just like the ceiling. It was just large enough for him to be able to squeeze through. Taking a deep breath and trying to collect what little of his wits remained, Sam stepped over Wexler's body and shimmied himself sideways into the gap. Through the woodwork and piping and plaster had could see a light at the opposite end, light from another room next to the bathroom. If he could get there then he could find a way back downstairs to Dean and then they could go and apprehend Sasha if she was still alive after the fall… Dean is still alive, Sam made himself think over and over again as he shuffled through the tight space, ignoring the pain as he scraped his arms and legs on bits of nail and wood splinters.
Dean was okay because that's how it always was…Dean had to be okay because things had changed with them so much and Sam wasn't going to let him be lost that easily…even if he had to go to the afterlife and back to get Dean, he wouldn't accept that he was dead…ever.
A spider crawled over his hand, its bristly legs tickling his skin briefly but Sam did not stop moving for a second, sliding under a large beam that cut across the path through the wall. Somehow, through the exhaustion and fear and grief and anger he managed to extricate himself from the impromptu passage and tumbled into what at one point must have been a bedroom. The furniture was covered in white sheets, the window boarded up by thick wooden planks. Lightning flashed outside again and Sam looked back in spite of himself. He could just see Wexler's wide-eyed corpse staring at the ceiling of the bathroom and thought for a moment how ironic it was that the man escaped one massacre to be killed in another and in the same building no less.
He suddenly felt his vulnerability more than ever. They'd left all their weapons in the car and in the event that Sasha hadn't been killed in the fall down the stairs then Sam wanted to make sure he had something to protect himself and Dean with. He looked around the room and began tearing the sheets of the furniture, letting them fly through the air behind him like ghosts as he scoured relentlessly for some kind of weapon. He found it in a broken chair leg that had a nail sticking out of the end. It was basic but it would work.
To his relief the door to the room was unlocked and opened around the corner of the hallway from where he and Dean had been cornered. Silently, Sam walked back the way they'd come, keeping his eyes and ears alert just in case there was something more waiting for him. He kept his mind focused on finding Dean at the bottom of the stairs, of rousing him and holding him like he would never let him go, of finally getting the truth out of the bitch who had lied to him all these months. Then he and Dean would leave Stanford and start a life together away from all this crap, away from ghosts and werewolves and urban legends come to life.
But Sasha wasn't at the bottom of the stairs when Sam finally made it there a few moments later, the chair leg held in front of him like a baseball bat. Dean was though, his head lolled to the side, his arm at an awkward angle. Anxiously Sam crouched down next to Dean, feeling his hands shake as he prepared himself for the worst. He touched two fingers to Dean's neck and felt relief wash over him like a tidal wave. Dean had a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. Thanking his lucky stars that Sasha hadn't decided to finish Dean off, Sam placed the chair leg on the floor and then gently, taking Dean by the under arms, he slid his older brother away from the bottom of the stairs, leaning him against a wall near the door.
He was going to finish this alone. Somehow he knew he always would. He gave Dean a quick kiss before pushing himself to his feet and collecting the chair leg from where he'd left it. Then, just as he'd put his foot on the bottom most step he heard a noise from above…footsteps. Somebody was walking around up there…Sasha hadn't left Stanley Hall yet.
Setting his jaw grimly Sam headed up the stairs but this time he went the direction the killer had come from and found that the hall on this side of the building was just as narrow and twisting as the one he and Dean had gone down, only the ceiling had held up on this side. At the end of the hall was a door that led to another flight of stairs, steeper than the ones on the ground floor. Slowly, Sam ascended, keeping the pointed nail on the end of the chair leg pointed outwards just in case Sasha was waiting around the corner.
The stairs led up to an attic room that was lit by a myriad of candles that were almost blinding after the dimness of the lower levels. And there, in the middle of the room on an old mattress on a wire spring frame lay Brenda, her arms splayed out at the side, her bushy hair fanned out behind her. She was wearing a tight black tank top and black jeans that Sam had never seen her in before. As Sam drew closer, feeling remorse and pity well up in him, he saw that there was a small medical cart next to the mattress and a bucket of ice on the floor.
Sam sank to the end of the bed, unable to look at Brenda's face. He couldn't believe that he'd let this happen to her or to any of his old friends, all of whom were now dead. Bitterly he thought of Sasha and wondered what she stood to gain from any of this and if all the clues and leads he and Dean had stumbled upon had just been red herrings she'd carefully laid out for them.
The mattress creaked behind him and Sam's face brightened momentarily at the thought of Brenda being alive. He turned to face her…and met her fist as it socked him hard in the temple, harder than was possible for someone of her strength and size. The last thing he saw was the psychotic smile on Brenda's face before everything went black and he passed out.
When Sam came to he was lying flat on his back on the mattress, his hands and feet bound by handcuffs, a piece of duct tape over his mouth. He struggled in vain to pull against his restraints but the metal of the cuffs only cut into his wrist. As he gradually regained more of his senses he realized that his shirt had been cut open, leaving his chest exposed and bare to the cold, musty air of the attic. He heard footsteps approaching and arching his head up he saw the killer approach, the hood of the parka up, obscuring the face for a moment until the light from the candles exposed the visage underneath.
Brenda grinned wickedly as she hovered over him and wrenched the parka off of her body and threw it into a dusty corner of the attic.
"Gotcha!" She said maniacally. Sam cursed at her, forgetting about the duct tape for a moment. "What's that?" Brenda said, putting a hand to her ear in mock deafness. "Doll I cannot understand a word you're saying." She stooped over him so that her face was within an inch of Sam's and it was then that he noticed her eyes, how unusual they were, the whites cracked with red vines, the irises normally blue now a pale shade of yellow.
"If I remove the tape," Brenda went on, stroking Sam's chest with her fingers like he was some kind of prized pony, "you've got to promise me that you're not going to scream m'kay? God knows I had enough of that with Sasha…" And Brenda waved her fingers slowly at him the same way she had when Sam had rescued Sasha from her clutches at the radio station. How the hell could he have ever suspected Sasha for a moment? Then again if Brenda had flown under the radar then he really couldn't have been blamed.
Mercilessly Brenda yanked the duct tape off Sam's lips and flounced away from him, standing at the foot of the mattress and eyeing him like a prize from a carnival game.
"You're fucking crazy!" Sam spat, squirming against the handcuffs again, hoping that he could find a way to free himself even though he knew that it was useless. Brenda only cackled at that and said, "I prefer the term eccentric…but yeah…I suppose you could say I'm a bit nutty right now."
Sam glared at her as she circled slowly around the mattress, those eyes never once wavering from him. In all his time hunting with Dean and his father he'd never seen eyes in anything like that before. He hadn't even come across that kind of description in any of the books he'd ever read when he'd do research for them…Tamara Fox had said that the spirit of the boy Natalie and Michelle had killed was at peace so that ruled him out…what the hell was Brenda using then?
Unable to stand it any longer Sam burst out, "What the fuck are you?!"
Brenda laughed again. "What?" She repeated in a sing-song voice, "what, what, WHAT, WHAT, WHAAAAT? You wanna know what? Well I'll tell you Mister Thang!" She jabbed Sam hard in the stomach. "God it's pathetic," she went on, scratching her hair as though it were suddenly over taken by lice. "My sisters and I…people used to fear us Sammy boy. They used to live by us and they would die by us if we pleased…but nooooo. Christianity came and the next thing I know I'm being summoned by grieving widows who want revenge for the deaths of their husbands like some kind of fucking genie…"
For a moment Sam had no idea what Brenda, or rather the thing in control of Brenda, was talking about. Then, from somewhere in the deep recesses of his memory he remembered the passage he'd read that day in the library…the Furies…people could summon them to get revenge for transgressions against them…He recalled that Tamara had told him and Dean that the thing behind the murders was ancient…
"Oh Jesus Christ!" Sam groaned, not believing how stupid he had been. If he'd only been more open minded then he could have figured this whole thing out.
"DING DING DING DING!" Brenda crowed. "Y'know Sam I owe it to you actually. All those false leads really let me have more fun than I've had in a while. And hey…it sure as hell was funny watching you get stuck in the middle of all the mess." She put on an exaggerated sad face and said, "Poor widdle Sammy was so scared weren't you?"
"You're Tisiphone then," Sam said, ignoring the jab.
"Yes indeedy!" The Fury said with a laugh. "Poor little Brenda…she had no clue what she was getting into when she turned to me, and all because her little old fiancé got run off the road by that ginger ditz and her stupid friend."
"David Evans…" Sam said numbly. "He was…"
"Fraid so!" Tisiphone said as she held Brenda's pendant out from her neck, showing Sam the ring tied to the chain. "Poor kid proposed to Brenda with this little ring a few days before Natalie and Michelle thought they'd go messing with urban legends. She came to me then Sam, wanting revenge and I thought 'Now here's a kid who knows her shit. After all it's been so long since someone came and paid me a visit.'" Tisiphone pouted and stamped her foot on the ground impatiently. "Do you know how fucked up that can make you Sam? To have all this power and nobody to act through for decades?"
"Oh I'm so sorry," Sam said bitterly. "Why all the others then? Brenda only knew of Natalie and Michelle at that point…why drag everyone else into this?"
"Because Sammy," Tisiphone said innocently, "that was all before you showed up on campus. I was more than happy to off Natalie and Michelle for Brenda. And hell a good old urban legend style killing is sure to get me a lot of credit in the spirit world, not to mention a shit ton of press coverage for Brenda." Tisiphone was circling around the bed again, but this time she wasn't looking at Sam, she was staring ahead, her eyes out of focus as though recalling painful memories.
"Brenda had to wait a bit," the Fury went on, "to make sure that Natalie was completely trusting before she struck…thing is, she waited too long because that's when you showed up." She smiled, her lips curling gloatingly as she went on, "I couldn't believe it…you, the special little tyke all grown up, had fallen right under my nose. Well…let's just say I really couldn't help myself after I offed Michelle…"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Sam demanded. "What the hell is so special about me huh?"
Tisiphone looked down at him, bewildered for a moment. Then she laughed again, the cackle echoing off the walls of the attic. "You don't know? YOU DON'T KNOW! Oh my God you're father really was a fucking idiot on top of all his other blistering personality traits." She crouched down next to Sam and began to stroke his hair. Sam squirmed, attempting to get out of her reach but all he succeeded in doing was scraping his wrist against the handcuffs. "You're special Sam," Tisiphone continued in an almost loving tone, "very special…you think those visions of yours are just coincidence? You think Mommy Dearest's little ceiling barbecue was just a random attack? God you're clueless…" She stood up then and stalked to the opposite side of the bed where the medical tray and ice bucket were.
Sam's mind was racing. His mother's death had always been just a random demon killing to him because that's all it had ever been to his father and to Dean. And as for his visions…he'd always pegged it down to just being psychic as a result of exposure to the supernatural world. Was Tisiphone telling the truth or was she just trying to get a rise out of him by lying?
"It doesn't matter anyway," the Fury said as she idly examined several scalpels on the tray, "you're gonna be dead in a few minutes and that'll leave me free to go after Sasha…I think I'll make her wait a few years…she can be the William Wexler of the Stanford Urban Legend Massacre. Hey what did you think of Wexler by the way?" Tisiphone asked him conversationally. "Really obscure urban legend…something about slicing people's ankles and then running them over the emergency spikes."
She'd go after Sasha…but not Dean. The only mercy in all this was that the bitch seemed to think his brother had actually died in that fall. As though to confirm his thoughts Tisiphone added, "Shame about your brother…lover…what the fuck ever he was to you…I don't think there are any urban legends about someone falling down the stairs…"
"Why urban legends?" Sam asked, stalling for time. If there was one thing he gathered about the Fury so far it was that she enjoyed talking about herself.
"There's power in belief Little Sammy," Tisiphone said with a smirk. "People start believing that these legends are real and that gives them power…and guess what? Since I orchestrated everything that sort of means I get a slice of that belief even if the shmuck's talking about this shit don't even knew who I am." She laughed to herself and added, "Poor Brenda had no idea at first. She didn't seem to mind when I kept popping all over the county to do some dirty work."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I can be wherever the legend needs me to be," Tisiphone replied with another smirk of satisfaction.
"So Brenda was just a means to an end." Sam said flatly and the Fury shrugged. "Fraid so," she said as she pulled out a razor sharp scalpel. "Shame that you and Dean or God forbid Sasha didn't figure it out...there were signs all over the place but then again you were all so convinced that it was Parker…then David Evans…then Wexler that none of you even noticed no matter how hard she tried to hint."
And Sam remembered all the signs with an agonizing feeling of stupidity. Brenda's limp after he'd attacked her the night of Damon's murder, her constant tiredness…hell even half of the things she'd said to them were all subtle signs. She might have even checked out The Encyclopedia of Urban Legends as a red flag and he'd never even noticed.
"Anyway enough of the Q-and-A," Tisiphone said with a grin. Then she leaned over Sam, bracing herself with one arm to show him the scalpel. "Time for my favorite urban legend; The Kidney Heist. I'm sure you've heard this one kiddo; Guy goes to a party and meets a girl who puts something in his drink. BOOM!" Her eyes flashed psychotically and Sam tried to keep his face as far from hers as possible. "He's out like a light," Tisiphone went on with a leer. "The next thing you know he wakes up in a bathtub full of ice to find out that his kidney's been removed. Supposedly the sell them on the black market…I don't think it's ever happened but then again," the Fury laughed in a self-satisfied way, "neither did any of this shit before I came into the picture."
Slowly she trailed the scalpel down Sam's bare chest and Sam couldn't help but shake in fear at the idea of what was about to happen. "Brenda…" He said weakly in a last ditch attempt to reach the person inside but the Fury only shook her head.
"Brenda doesn't live here right now…but she's got a front row seat." Tisiphone shook the ring on the chain and Sam suddenly remembered all the times that he'd seen Brenda playing with it…it had always been when they were talking about the murders. Everything had a weakness, that was the one thing he'd had drilled into him when he'd been hunting with his father and Dean…the psycho demi-goddess had to have one to and Sam had a hunch as to what it was…if only he could break free of the restraints.
He knew it was useless, no matter how hard he shook at the cuffs it did him no good.
"Mustn't struggle Sammy," Tisiphone said as she played the tip of the scalpel across his abdomen. "It makes an even bigger mess." Then with a wild smile she plunged the blade into Sam's body. Sam let out a strangled yell of pain as he felt the scalpel sever skin and nerves and plunge into something soft inside of his body.
"Whoops," Tisiphone said as she removed the blade. "Was that the kidney or the liver? I can never tell. Brenda was always such a dope in anatomy. Ah well. I'm not really fussy about where I stick this to be honest with you." And again she sunk the scalpel into Sam's body. Sam felt tears prickle behind his eyes as pain rode over all other sensations but he refused to let them fall. He was going to die here and Dean didn't even know who the killer was. Brenda…no…Tisiphone would go free and Dean would be too destroyed at Sam's death to hunt her down.
He'd broken his promise to his brother after all…Once more the scalpel plunged into his body he willed himself to open his eyes and watch as the blood poured out of him. He wasn't going to die, shaking and crying like some kid. He was going to die with honor no matter how much pain the Fury put him through. He met her evil gaze levelly with all his strength, trying hard not to think about the blood spilling out of him.
Tisiphone cocked her head to the side in confusion at his defiance. Then she raised the scalpel once more, prepared to make a fourth incision, the one that Sam knew would open him up completely when the door behind her burst open and the noise of a gun going off split the air. Tisiphone gasped and rolled out of the way and Sam, looking towards the door saw the last person in the world he expected standing there, holding one of Dean's shotguns directly at the Fury.
"Don't move you psycho bitch!" Sasha shrieked. Her hair was completely dishevelled, her clothes torn and she was sopping wet but her eyes were fixed on Tisiphone with such hatred and determination that Sam was surprised the bitch's hair wasn't burning.
"Oh great," Tisiphone groaned, "rent-a-whore to the rescue."
"Shut the fuck up Brenda!" Sasha yelled, cocking he shotgun as she walked slowly into the room, never once letting the Fury out of her sight.
"That's not Brenda…" Sam said weakly.
"Sam shut up and save your strength," Sasha said darkly and then added to Tisiphone, "Drop the knife and let him go."
Tisiphone looked like a spoiled child being punished but she let the scalpel drop and fished a key from inside the pocket of the jumpsuit. Slowly, her gaze level on Sasha who did not let the shotgun drop for a moment she walked over to Sam and undid first one handcuff and then another, her eyes flicking to the medical tray which had an assortment of other dangerous surgical objects on it for her to choose from. Sam was a microsecond too late. Tisiphone grabbed the tray and threw it at Sasha, who yelped and ducked out of the way as scalpels and knives went flying towards her and clattering to the ground.
The Fury laughed in delight and stooped to pick up a scalpel, leaving Sam free to think fast. He sat up; wincing through the strain it put on his open wound. Instantly he began working at the cuffs that bound his feet. Tisiphone, having collected yet another knife, stood up and pushed him back down.
"Not so fast Sammy," she said with a wicked smile. "Operation's not over yet." The next second she let out a scream and toppled backwards, knocking the cart over. Sasha had also found a scalpel and crawling on the ground had stabbed the Fury in the back of the leg. Tisiphone, despite being in shock and pain, collected herself quickly and pulled Sasha back by her hair but not before Sam managed to swipe the blonde's scalpel from her. As the two woman wrestled aggressively on the wooden floor, Sam worked quickly at the cuffs with the blade, freeing himself in a matter of seconds and sliding off the bed, his head spinning through a haze of pain.
He grabbed Tisiphone by the back of her wild hair and threw her against the side of the bed. She groaned and slid to the floor, giving Sam the opportunity to tend to Sasha, who was crumpled in a heap.
"Sash," he said weakly, helping her up and gritting his teeth as his lower torso screamed in pain at the strain he was putting on it. Sasha was bleeding just under the shoulder from where the Fury had stabbed her but she seemed alright.
"Careful she's not out," Sasha said as she got to her feet. Sam looked over her shoulder and saw that Tisiphone was stirring feebly. "What the fuck is she Sam?"
"I'll…explain later," Sam said, trying hard to keep a grip on himself as he clutched a hand to the bleeding wound. "We…we need to get Dean…there's gotta be a way to exorcise that thing from Brenda…" At that moment Tisiphone lunged forward and tackled Sam to the ground. Sasha was thrown off balance and went staggering back. Sam attempted to fight back but the Fury jabbed two fingers into the freshest of the wounds she'd inflicted upon him. This time Sam couldn't help but scream as white hot pain blinded him.
Sasha lunged at Tisiphone, wrapping both hands around her neck and pressing down with all her strength. The Fury spluttered and struggled but did not remove her fingers from Sam's body. Through the pain and the screams Sam managed to cough out, "S-Sasha…the…the necklace…take it off!" And Sasha, understanding for the first time wrapped her fingers around the chain, yanked it off Brenda's neck and threw it towards the other side of the room.
There was a rush of unseen energy. Brenda's cries of rage turned into screams of panic and fear as she removed her fingers from Sam's abdomen and staggered backwards, choking and sobbing as she clutched at her hair. Sam felt himself fading fast but had just enough sense to push himself up to a sitting position.
Sasha was crouched in between him and Brenda, looking completely confused as to what to do next, not knowing who to give comfort to but at that moment Sam did not care about comfort. His gaze as weak as it was travelled to the side of the room where Sasha had thrown Brenda's necklace. As he sat there slumped against the wall he saw the thing begin to vibrate violently against the floorboards, glowing a violent orange.
"Sasha…Brenda get out of here," Sam said, his breathing becoming labored. No matter what happened he wasn't going to let the two of them face the real Fury when she came out of her vessel. Sasha looked up at Sam in confusion and then turned and saw the necklace as well. She let out a gasp and tried to get Brenda to come round but the other woman was still a hysteric wreck, shaking violently with her hands clutching at her hair.
"You have to get out of here!" Sam said through gritted teeth. "Both of you just go! I'll be fine. I can take-" He was cut off the next moment by a shout from the lower levels. Had he imagined it or was somebody calling his name? He listened for a moment, his eyes still on the necklace which was practically levitating off the ground and emitting a faint humming sound. Over that noise though there was no mistaking the sound of somebody frantically calling his name.
"SAM?! SAMMY WHERE ARE YOU!?"
"DEAN!" Sam shouted with all the strength he had left. "DEAN WE'RE IN THE ATTIC!" Please hurry, he thought desperately. The necklace was now hovering off the ground and Sam could see the center of the ring beginning to expand, a fiery void of energy forming in the middle. Tisiphone was going to make her real self known and he didn't know if he could keep Sasha and Brenda safe from the Fury at full power. Sasha was pulling on Brenda's arm, trying to get her to standing up but Brenda seemed too far gone to notice anything and it was a small wonder. Tisiphone had said Brenda was watching, that she had always been watching whenever the Fury was in control…she may not have committed any of the murders but she'd seen them…
A face appeared in the center of the ring, a twisted, gnarled oddly reptilian face that leered out at Sam who could barely see it as the blackness began creeping in. He could feel warm blood, his own blood, spilling through his fingers and was dimly aware of the sounds of somebody charging up the stairs. He glanced through heavy lids to the door and smiled stupidly when she saw Dean there, clutching at his arm. For a moment his brother looked completely dumbfounded at the scene of carnage. His strength ebbing, Sam raised an arm that felt heavy as lead and pointed at the necklace.
Dean stared at it, his mouth agape then all at once he understood. He stooped, and despite his injured arm picked up the shotgun that Sasha had used and without so much as a pause he blasted Brenda's ring to smithereens. A shriek, primal and savage emanated from the centre as the metal burst to bits. The portal vanished and the chain fell to the floor.
Dean stepped around Sasha and Brenda, muttering something to them that Sam couldn't hear. Then he crouched down next to him, his hands shaking as he examined Sam's injury. He was talking to him in an anxious voice but Sam was beyond understanding anything he said. He smiled sleepily at Dean who had once more come to save him.
"I really love you," Sam said thickly, before the warm darkness wrapped him round once again.