A.N. The penultimate chapter. If anyone is still with me and the boys in this WELL DONE!
I am hoping to get the final chapter up this evening (fingers crossed).
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The Necromancer paled as the first bullet hit, jerking him back a couple of steps, and the Necromancer, in a sickening moment of insight, knew what Sam was aiming for. In a panic he desperately tried, and failed, to dodge Sam's bullets and Sam knew he was right. Sam paused, aimed, fired, knocking the Necromancer up against a wall and shattering the locket hung around his neck.
Silence descended, almost deafening in it's contrast to the noise of repeat gunfire. Slumped breathlessly against the wall, the Necromancer looked down at himself, and began to laugh hysterically. Sam stared in abject horror. He had been so certain, so absolutely sure that the locket was the Necromancer's phylactery. Responding to the hint of movement in the periphery of his vision, Sam turned. He saw the Lytch, Willerton? raise a hand, palm facing Sam, clearly signalling for Sam to wait, and so Sam waited.
The sound of the Necromancer's laughter died away, only to be replaced by a howled cry.
"No….No….No…..Nooooooo!"
What Sam would later think of as fracture lines began to zig-zag their way across the Necromancer's skin. And each lengthening tear glowed from the lights within. As the cracks widened, shimmering lights of every colour and hue streamed out of them, curling up and away from the prison which had been the Necromancer's body. They all began to swirl and spiral upwards, the dancing lights appeared to bump against the high ceiling, and from there seemed to simply vanish through it. All….except one. The brightest of them flittered around the others, then darted toward where the shell of Dean Winchester lay. It hovered in mid-air, swirling like a spinning top, then like a shooting star it streaked toward the symbol carved into Dean's chest where, with a final burst of grace, it quietly dissipated.
"Nooo! Stop! Come back…come…."
Feeling more than a little shell shocked at what he had just witnessed, the desperate sound of the Necromancer's cries startled Sam. Tearing his focus away from his brother, Sam re-directed his attention onto the Necromancer. A mixture of horror and fascination swept through Sam and he looked on in distaste as the once powerful Necromancer staggered after a weak shaft of misty grey light, his hand flailing and scrabbling at the air as if he were trying to catch hold of the dismally insignificant thing. Small and pathetic though it looked, it appeared to Sam that the tattered remnant that remained of the Necromancer's own soul was purposely dancing in and out of the Necromancer's grasping fingers. The patch of grey climbed higher, forcing the Necromancer to reach and stretch up after it until, eventually, he over-reached, and toppled forward to land in an ungainly heap on the floor. Above the now still and silent form, the small area of grey light shrank, and went out.
Still rooted to the spot, Sam couldn't bring himself to look away as the Necromancer's flesh began to shrivel and dry until, for a brief moment, only bare bones remained. Quickly these too began to break down until they were little more than dust piles on the floor. It was the sound of something landing heavily on the floor that finally shook Sam from his near stupor and he spun around to see the Lytch had collapsed once the Necromancer died. The rapid decomposition had already begun, even though the Lytch was still aware. Sam crossed over to the creature and knelt by it.
"You knew this would happen when the Necromancer died?"
The Lytch nodded stiffly.
"But you didn't try to stop me….Why?"
Although his eyes were already becoming cloudy, the Lytch turned his gaze to the table on which Dean lay. When the Lytch spoke, his voice whispered like dry autumn leaves.
"Family."
Then he was gone.
A low moan cut through Sam's stupor and he hurried to his brother.
"Dean? Dean it's me, Sam. C'mon Dean. Come back."
Stroking his brother's cheek, Sam kept up his litany of reassurance and persuasion, willing Dean to open his eyes and becoming frustrated when a small frown crossed Dean's face in response to Sam's voice, but his eyes remained closed. Sam switched his efforts to cutting through the thick leather strapping which held his brother, grimacing when he saw the mess Dean had made of his wrists whilst trying to yank himself free. He was surprised to discover the loosened ankle strap and wondered just how hard Dean must have struggled to cause the strap to give. A small sound from behind caused such a tide of relief that Sam wasn't convinced his knees wouldn't give way,
"S'm."
Shakily Sam moved and watched as Dean's eyes slitted open.
"Hi."
Dean frowned.
"Blood?"
Sam was puzzled, until Dean tried to raise a hand up to Sam's face. Capturing Dean's wavering hand in his, Sam grinned at his brother's habit, so ingrained as it was, of putting Sam always before himself.
"It's ok. It's not mine."
Dean nodded.
"Tha's good."
"Feel like sitting up?"
Dean blinked up at his brother.
"Why?"
Sam smiled broadly.
"Oh nothing really. Just thought you might wanna get out of here?"
Dean seemed to consider this momentarily before giving a deep sigh.
"S'gonna hurt."
Sam put a hand against Dean's cheek in sympathy.
"Yeah….It is."
Dean nodded, then reached out to Sam.
"Help me?"
Dean sat on the edge of the table as he fought to steady his breathing. Sam waited patiently, one arm across Dean's back supporting him. Dean glanced vaguely around the room, stopping when he saw a full skeleton collapsed untidily on the floor.
"Who's that?"
Sam smiled sadly at what now remained of Willerton.
"The guy from the diner….The one that liked you. I think you made an impression on him."
"Huh?"
"Never mind. You about ready to try for standing?
Dean looked determined.
"Ok."
It was a slow walk out to the corridor and Dean had first insisted Sam find the Necromancer's book to take with them. Dean tried his hardest, but Sam still had to take most of his brother's weight. He tried to close his ears to the small sounds of hurt and the stuttered breaths coming from Dean as his brother stubbornly worked at staying upright. Suddenly, Dean hesitated.
"What is it? Dean? You need to take a break?"
Dean turned to look up at Sam and Sam was startled by the raw fear he saw in Dean's eyes.
"Can't….Can't go into the dark. S'not safe Sammy."
With no idea as to what was upsetting Dean, Sam simply accepted his brother's words.
"Ok. You can rest here and I'll light the rest of the corridor."
"Don't get stuck in the dark Sammy!"
"I won't, I promise."
Leaving Dean sat on the floor supported by his back against a wall in the candlelit area, Sam moved ahead using the maglight and lit all the other lamps he could find that still had any remnants of candles in them. Looking back he could still see Dean and he gave a thumbs up before hurrying down the small flight of stairs and out onto the landing area. To his relief there were more lamps, he didn't fancy trying to persuade his brother to negotiate the stairs in the dark.
When he returned, Dean's eyes were closed again. Sam squatted down by his side.
"Hey sleepy. Time to move again."
Slowly opening his eyes, Dean gazed around groggily.
"We late?"
Sam pushed down his immediate feeling of unease.
"Not yet. We'll be ok if we set off now."
Sam felt Dean swaying slightly as they both stood looking down at the two sets of stairs confronting them.
"S'mmy?"
It was clear from his speech that Dean was exhausted. Ignoring his own aches and pains in his back, Sam gave Dean a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry bro'. I'm going to carry you down."
Any other time Sam might have laughed at his weakened brother's immediate attempt to back away from him; right now he simply grabbed Dean with both hands as Dean staggered and shook his head.
"You can't."
"Have you got a better idea?"
"Take the elevator?"
Sam kept his tone even, not wanting Dean to pick up on his growing impatience to get Dean of this place and to somewhere where he could take care of his brother's wounds.
"Dean. Trust me….Please?"
Reluctantly Dean gave his consent.
The fireman's lift hurt both of them and Sam had the awful realisation that he wouldn't be able to carry Dean this way the good half mile or so back through the woods to the car. As he finally reached the bottom of the main staircase, Dean's quiet mewls of pain had ceased.
xxxxxxxxXXXxxxxxxxx