Thank you so much Shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for beta'ing and Ncsupnatfan and VegasGranny for pre-reading.
Chapter Nineteen
Sam climbed out of bed and walked across the room to open the door, revealing Clark on the doorstep looking annoyed.
"Man, you sleep deep," he said irritably. "I already gave you hours, too. Time to get back to work. We need to…" He frowned. "Have you been crying?"
Sam wiped a hand over his face and realized it was wet. He smeared the tears and said, "I'm fine. What do you want?"
Clark appraised him for a moment and said, "We're going to try astral projection again. And this time we're doing it alone. Your mom and brother have gone on a field trip."
"I can't do it without Dean," Sam said, a hint of panic in his voice.
"Which is exactly why they've gone. You can do it without him, and this time you will."
"Where have they gone?"
"To get more journals from some storage unit in Omaha. They won't be back for a while, so we have some nice quiet time to work. Shall we sit?" He pushed past Sam and dropped into the chair at the table. "Sit down, Sam."
Sam closed the door and trailed across the room to sit down on the chair.
"Now, it took a lot to persuade them to go, so I need this to work," Clark said. "I'm not having you proving me wrong. Your security blanket isn't here, so you've got to rely on yourself. Get yourself nice and calm."
Sam closed his eyes and then they flew open as his head thudded with pain and his arm began to tingle. "It's happening," he said.
"It's really not," Clark said. "You're nowhere near calm."
"No, a vision." Sam rubbed his arm and blinked as the outline of Clark's face began to glow.
"Okay, that works," Clark said. "Do what you've got to do. Tell me what you see."
"I can't," Sam said. "I have to find it. I'm not calm." His mind was too full of Jessica for him to find calm.
"You're going to have to," Clark said. "I am not holding your hand."
Sam's breaths came fast. He was never going to be able to do this, but he had to do this. It could be something bad, someone that needed to be protected, someone he cared about. Mary and Dean weren't there. What if it was them he was going to see?
"Breathe," Clark said.
Sam tried but before he could even draw one inhale, his head spiked with pain and his vision filled with stars and cold air rushed across his face.
He looked around and saw he was in the cemetery again, the one where Jessica was buried. Unlike his dream the night before, he knew where he had to go to find her. He strode purposefully across the grass, using the large grave with an angel perched on it as a landmark. The wooden marker was gone from Jessica's grave and had been replaced with a marble gravestone. Sam stopped in front of it and looked down at it. Beneath the inscription of her name and dates of birth and death was a single line in gold that seemed to glow.
Sam read it aloud. "She was loved."
A cry swelled in Sam's throat and he reached to touch the grave, but then he heard the crunch of gravel on the path that led through the graveyard.
Sam spun on his heels and the cry slipped out of him.
Jessica was walking towards him. She was wearing the same clothes she had been wearing in his dream. She was smiling widely, reaching for him, and Sam rushed towards her.
He was almost at her when he heard laughter that seemed out of place in the graveyard. He turned automatically and saw the graves behind him were gone and he was facing a familiar house. It was his family's old home, only a short walk away from the motel he was staying in. There was a boy and girl, both teenagers, on the porch, trying to open the door with a screwdriver beside the lock.
Sam turned away from them, wanting to find Jessica again, but the cemetery was gone, Jessica with it, and there were just houses.
A moan of pain in his chest, Sam called her name, but there was no response but the laughter of the teenagers and triumphant cries. Sam turned back to them and saw that they'd gotten the door open and they were rushing into the house, flashlights leading their way.
Sam wanted to leave them, to pull out of the vision to find Jessica again, but the sense of danger that had been absent from his waking visions so far was strong.
Fighting against himself, he followed them inside, seeing the girl push the door closed behind her with a giggle. "It won't shut, Ty," she said.
"Never mind. Come on," the boy, Ty, said. "The basement. No one will see the light there."
They walked through the hall, testing doors to a closet and the kitchen before finding one that led down a flight of stairs.
"Awesome," he said. "It's a little spooky. Want me to hold your hand, Hallie?"
"No thanks," she said. "Unless you need me to. Are you scared?"
"No!" His shoulders stiffened. "I'm fine."
They walked slowly down the stairs and Sam followed them, his eyes searching around for a sign of the threat he could sense coming.
When they reached the basement, Ty looked around and whistled. "This is so cool. Look! They left junk for us!"
Sam saw there were old chests in the corner that looked familiar. There were some that looked the same at Bobby's, too, mementos Mary had inherited from her parents and brought to Bobby's for them to store some of the older books in to lock them away from Sam and Dean when they were kids, before they knew the truth.
Hallie lit the way with a flashlight as Ty tried to lift the lid. "It's locked!" he said angrily.
"Damn," she said.
"Not a problem. I'll get it open." He took the screwdriver from his jacket pocket again and began to prize at the lock.
Sam's sense of foreboding increased, and he moved closer to them, as if he could defend them from what was coming somehow, even though he was just there to witness.
The lock broke and Hallie whooped. Ty threw the trunk open and reached inside. "Cool!" he said excitedly. "Look at this!" He pulled out a box that bore the picture of a toy racetrack set. "Retro!"
"I wonder whose it was," the girl said.
Ty tried to lift the lid and said, "It's never been opened. I guess they forgot about it when they left."
"What else is there?" she asked.
He set down the toy and pulled out a smaller box with photographs in it. Sam's breath caught as he saw his father's face on the faded paper. He was cradling a baby in his arms and a small boy was leaning against his side. The boy was Dean, which meant the baby was Sam.
Sam had never seen this picture of him before, and none of the pictures he had seen had captured the look of pure pride on his father's face. He felt his throat swell shut.
"That's so sweet," the girl said. "Look at the baby. They must have left them behind when they moved out."
"Yeah, that sucks," Ty replied. "Maybe we can… Hey, what was that?"
Sam had heard it. It was the slamming of the door at the top of the stairs. Whatever it was that he'd sensed was there.
The girl's eyes darted around in the darkness, "I think we should get out of here, Ty. I don't like it."
"It's fine," Ty said, though his voice betrayed his own unease. "I thought you wanted to party."
"No. I want to get out of here," she insisted.
The girl ran to the stairs, her flashlight bobbing, and her footsteps loud on the wooden stairs. She tried the door but it didn't budge. "Let me out!" she shouted. "This isn't funny. Is that you, Ed?"
"Calm down," Ty said, moving toward the steps. "They're just screwing with us. If they know you're panicking, it's going to make them worse." He raised his voice. "Come on, Ed. Let us out. This is a serious dick move."
Suddenly, the girl cried out with shock as something shoved her backward. Sam saw it was a shove by the way her body moved. Her arms pinwheeled and she screamed as she fell back.
"Hallie!"
Sam rushed forward, wanting to catch her, but his hands moved through her like smoke.
There was a thud and sick crack as she hit the floor, and Ty began to scream as he took in her still body and the unnatural angle of her head from her broken neck.
"No!" Sam shouted as Ty ran for the stairs, but before he was even two steps up, he was shoved back and he flew into the opposite wall. He hit hard and the breath rushed out of him in a rush.
"Please no!" Ty moaned. "I'll go. I won't come back. I swear. Don't kill me."
Sam thought Ty was feeling the same fear he was. There was something in that house, something menacing, and it was preparing to kill again.
Sam tried to step forward, to protect the boy with his own insubstantial body, but before he could take more than a few steps he felt the spike of pain in his head and he knew what was coming. He tried to cling to the vision, to lock himself there, but then he was blinking into Clark's face and his head was splitting open with pain.
"What the hell did you see?" Clark asked.
"I saw a girl get killed," Sam said. "And I think the boy was next." He got to his feet, his head swimming and pounding. "I've got to stop them."
"Stop them what?" Clark asked. "You can barely stand. I think this is more of a job for your mom and brother than you."
"There might not be time."
Sam took a breath to clear his head that was partially successful and then reached for his phone from where it was charging beside the bed. He hit speed dial and held it to his ear with a shaking hand.
"Hey, Sammy," Dean said brightly. "How is going?"
"Where are you? Are you close?"
"We're about thirty minutes out of Lawrence," Dean said. "What's wrong? Hold on. I'm putting you on speaker." The sounds of the Jeep grew louder and Dean said, "What's up?"
"I had a vision," Sam said, squeezing his eyes closed. "It was our old house. Some kids are going to break in and something will kill them. I didn't see what it was. I think maybe a vengeful spirit, the way it worked, but it killed a girl and I think the boy was next."
"We're coming," Mary said tersely, and the sound of the engine being pushed to its limit came through the speaker. "Stay away from that house, Sam. I don't want you anywhere near it."
"But they could be there now!" Sam said desperately. "They could be killed!"
"No, Sam," Dean growled. "If you just had a vision, you've got to be wrecked. You can't protect anyone like that. You've got to take care of yourself. Send Clark."
Sam shot a look at Clark and saw he was watching him intently.
"Okay," he said. "I'll tell him."
"Good," Dean said, his relief obvious. "We're driving as fast as we can. We'll take care of it."
"I've got to go," Sam said as his eyes squeezed closed with pain.
"Rest," Dean instructed. "We'll wake you up when it's over."
"I will," Sam said. "I'll see you soon."
He ended the call and looked at Clark who had raised an eyebrow. "What are you telling me?" he asked.
"I need you to come with me," Sam said. "There are kids that are going to get killed if we don't go."
Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Dean's jacket and rooted through the pockets for the Impala keys. He found them and staggered out of the door to the car. He unlocked the door and turned back to see Clark standing in the doorway, watching him with a look of amusement.
"Come on!" Sam said. "We have to go!" When Clark didn't move, he added, "I can't do this alone, Clark. I haven't hunted in years. But these kids might die."
"What makes you think it's happening today?" Clark asked.
"I don't know if it will," Sam said. "But Mom and Dean are still thirty minutes out. If it is now, it means they're not going to be in time. Please!"
Clark rolled his eyes as he came forward and snatched the keys out of Sam's hand. "Fine. I'm coming, but I'm driving. You look like hell, and I'm not relying on you to not wrap us around a tree."
Sam knew Dean would be pissed if he knew Clark had driven the Impala, but he knew he would be a danger behind the wheel with the way his head was swimming and pounding with pain. Going into a hunt like this was stupid, but those kids could be killed. He would get them out and then himself. He would leave the hunt itself to Mary and Dean. He would just make sure no one was killed.
He got into the passenger side and dug his fingers into his knees as he waited for Clark to slide in behind the wheel and start the engine.
"Sweet car," Clark said, sounding impressed as the car rumbled to life.
He seemed completely unconcerned by what they were driving into and the danger those kids were in, but Sam held back his anger, grateful that Clark was coming at all.
"Where is this house?" Clark asked.
"Forty-five Parkway. You pass it on the way to Missouri's."
Clark reversed them out of their spot and drove recklessly fast into the traffic on the road. Dean would be furious if he saw the way Clark was driving his Baby, but Sam was glad. He was getting them there fast.
For the short ride over, he tried to think past the pain in his head and calm himself. He was scared for the kids and himself. He hadn't done anything like this in years, and he was in so much pain his reflexes were going to be slowed. It was an insane idea to go in like this, but it was him or those kids. He knew which mattered more.
"There!" he said, sitting forward in his seat and pointing when the old house came into view.
Clark skidded to a halt and Sam threw open his door and fell out, panic gripping him when he saw the door was ajar.
"The weapons are under the false base of the trunk," he said, running up the path. "I'll get the kids out."
Clark cursed and Sam heard the truck squeak as it was open.
He ran into the house and straight to the open door that would lead to the basement. Before he could reach it, it slammed shut.
It had started.
He had seconds before the girl was going to be at the top of the stairs, blocking him and about to fall, and he shouted, "Get back!" as he kicked the door beside the lock and it flew open.
Hallie was halfway up the stairs, frozen in fear, and Sam raced down to her and grabbed her shoulders, the pain in his head overpowered by his panic. "Get out of here," he said. "Now!"
When the girl just stared at him in shock, he shook her shoulders hard and she came to life, flinching back from him and running up the stairs and out of the door.
"Keep going!" Clark said from the hall. "Get out and run."
Sam turned his attention to the boy and snapped. "You! Run!"
The boy obeyed, skirting Sam and squeezing past Clark halfway up the stairs and running out of the door.
Clark came down the stairs, two shotguns in his hand. He handed one to Sam and said, "Do you feel it?"
Sam nodded. He knew exactly what he meant as the sensation of something wrong was pressing in on his chest and making it hard to breathe.
"What is it?" he asked.
"If I had to guess, I'd say a spirit of some kind," Clark said. "Poltergeist. Two maybe. There are two spirits at least. Let's get out of here. Your mom and brother can deal with it when they arrive."
Sam nodded and started towards the stairs, and then stopped. There was something else he wanted. He turned back and walked to the open chest. He could see the photographs in the dim light of the boys dropped torch, the shape of his father's face, and he reached for it.
"What the hell are you doing, Sam?" Clark asked. "You can come back—" He cut off with a grunt.
Sam spun around and saw Clark flying at the wall. There was a thud as he collided and a crack. Clark's eyes closed and he crumpled to the floor unconscious.
Sam cursed and ran at him, but something hit his chest and shoved him back. His back protested as he hit the wall, but his head was spared the blow Clark's had made. He fought against the pressure on him, searching for a sign of what had attacked, but there was nothing there. Nothing he could see at least.
There was the sound of metal being sheared apart and he saw a piece of the pipe that ran along the wall being torn away and flying towards him.
He sucked in a breath and prepared himself for the impact, but before it could do more than touch against his chest, right over his heart, he felt his head fill with pain and a force burst from him. Though his hands were pinned at his sides, he could also feel a grip on the cold pipe as if he had a third hand holding it away from him.
He realized it was his powers. This wasn't like when he threw the pillow around; this was what Clark must feel with his finely tuned powers when he would move the pillow with precision.
At the same moment as the realization, he felt the pressure against his grip on the pipe increasing. Whatever spirit was haunting the house was fighting against him, trying to impale him with the pipe as he tried to stop it.
His head was bursting with pain and he felt warm wetness sliding from his nose and over his lip, but he disregarded it, focusing every ounce of attention he had on keeping the pipe from stabbing into his heart and killing him.
He hissed through gritted teeth from the effort and willed his mom and Dean to hurry or for Clark to wake up and save him.
Without them, it was a battle of wills, his against the spirit's, and if he couldn't keep his focus, if he slipped even a little, it was going to kill him.
So… Things do not look good for our heroes. Tune in next time to see what happens ;-)
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx