I'm so incredibly sorry that this is late, I was ill until Sunday, therefore up writing into the illegal hours of the morning, on more tea that is probably legal for three people my size. A great shout out to my new beta Little Wing, go check her out, who did a very thorough job editing. You have her to thank for this, she's wonderfull!
I know you guys will enjoy the ending, and the next chapter, tragedy aside, will be out on Tuesday. I absolutely loved the Hookman episode, to anyone who missed it, I pity you.
Grief's Possession
Chapter Three: Possession
After a second of confused silence, Dean stuttered out, "You dreamt about them? What the hell are you talking about?" Sam knew by the passionately focused face he held Dean's full attentions. The relevance of the words slowly flittered through the elder brother's mind. The range of Dean's dark eyes and steel trap mind closed on Sam. There was no shaking him.
Sam glanced back towards the painted landscape that hung on the opposite wall. Quiet words formulated in his mind as he tried to tighten his tongue around them. The delusions of denial shocked even him. "I must have seen their picture or recognized their faces on the internet on a subconscious level. And just didn't put the two together," Sam said, softly in a vain attempt to rationalize his lie. The untruth rattled through him and he found it harder to turn and look Dean in the eye.
"Do you believe that, Sam? Are you willing to stake the lives of innocent people, your life, on that?" The cold determination of the elder Winchester settled in to air and thickened.
Of all the images pooling in his already guilty conscious, the one that floated to the top of Sam's mind was of her. Her gaped mouth, shadowed blond locks and the beauty of her face suddenly marred by the blue flames that were reaching out to him; begging him to succumb to them. Choking down the memory of her horror filled face staring back at him, Sam knew that if anyone else died- if he truly foresaw this- there would be no excuse. He would never let Dean trust him or be able look any honest person in the eye again. "No," he breathed; his eyes still refusing to rise up to meet Dean's steely gaze.
Dean nodded his head reassuringly, "Alright, then we're wasting daylight here. I need something to eat and an intravenous of caffeine... you too I'm guessing. And then we'll figure this out." Dean held out his hand and Sam smiled skeptically. Straightening to push out of the soft mattress his stomach did a flip-flop, and he felt like lying back again. Forcing himself upward his eyes met Dean's concerned gaze and regarded the offered hand. After a second failed attempt at balance, Sam used it to lever himself shakily out of the warm bed.
"Dean, the floor is spinning?" Sam questioned weakly as he wobbled precariously, and tried to settle his shaky equilibrium. "Isn't it?"
Dean's answering laugh sounded forced. "No, that would be you." Dean's hand still gripped Sam's arm as he helped his brother to his bag. The floor seemed to rise up underneath him, like when he'd put on some old person's glasses as a kid. Carefully Dean helped to lean Sam against the fake oak desk. Pulling the worn duffle bag to himself, Sam began to root through it, convinced there was at least one pair of pants in there that had not started walking on their own.
Finally throwing on a dark t-shirt and a pair of black jeans, he pulled on his running shoes. Standing slowly, he pulled on his jacket and looked to his brother, "Where to?"
"I was thinking the diner across the way. After I check out your head." Wearing his 'I'm right, so shut the hell up' face Dean cut off any rebuttal that would have slid from of Sam's mouth. "The last thing we need is for that to get infected."
"Wow, Dean, your concern for my health is astonishing," Sam growled, following Dean into the bathroom he sat on the edge of the tub. Leaning against the maroon coloured wall for balance, Sam closed his eyes and waited for his brother to come again with the first aid kit.
Returning quickly, Dean pulled out tape, gauze, a pair of scissors, and a bottle of isopropyl alcohol. After rolling his eyes at the surprising gentleness of his brother's ministrations, Sam bit back a hiss at the sting of the rubbing alcohol. "Big baby! This stuff doesn't hurt that bad! Does it?"
Sam's sarcastic remark had Dean smiling, "Like a person who finds this all very amusing has just wiped acid on a gaping hole in my skull."
After he had finished cleaning the small gash, Dean taped a piece of gauze over the top of it, and said in a sweet-pitched voice, "All better now? Seriously though, are you up to all of this running around? If you aren't feeling any better, I don't want to be dragging you around... you'll just be dead weight."
Looking at the floor Sam tried to gauge himself. The little patterned roses had finally stopped dancing around him. "Yeah... I am... a little bit."
Nodding, Dean began cleaning the sink up again. "I don't think you cracked anything, your head is much too thick for that," pausing Dean looked at his brother, "you look like hell."
"Thanks a lot jackass! Just the reassurance I was looking for," Sam said with a ghost of a smile. Getting up on, now, steady feet he moved to wash his hands in the sink. "Are we done?" he asked looking at the bandage on his head.
"Hey, what are big brothers for?" Dean said brightly, pushing in beside his brother. Gelling his hair back into its usual position, he smiled and said, "besides, Sammy, you know me... I'm a positive kinda guy. I'm also a guy who needs to wash his clothes...hope there's a Laundromat near by." Running a comb through his hair, Sam removed a small amount of crusted blood from his hair and finished getting ready. "Silver bullet, werewolf, human for laundry duty?" Dean's bright eyes made Sam cringe.
"You still remember our version of rock, paper, scissors," Sam chuckled "Man we were demented little children. I'll do it, you always seem to turn the whites all sorts of vibrant colors. I don't want to attract anymore vampires, thanks."
"Hey, it isn't my fault that vampires are attracted to bright colors." Dean stepped out of the bathroom, to avoid an elbow in the ribs. "Besides, bright pink was suited to your complexion."
"Don't say that again...ever." The two men decided to tidy up their room, packing away the more conspicuous items in their bags with combination locks. Ushering his brother out of the room, Dean grabbed the black garbage bag. Settling into the cool leather seats of the black four-door, Dean put the key into the ignition. "So, what do you want pizza or pancakes?"
"Very profound. Pancakes." Sam looked out the window, focusing on a couple of tall buildings in the distance, towards the city center. The too close flashings of other buildings and cars were making him dizzy and nauseous. Dean's sudden left turn crossing two oncoming lanes of heavy traffic jerked Sam's head and stomach in opposite directions, making him gag.
"If you hurl in my car… God help you." Dean shook his head as they pulled into a McDonalds. "You going to make it to a trash can? Cause I really don't want to explain to the cops why I killed my brother. You know being in the FBI will only help so much."
Sam gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. "Why are we at the Golden Arches of fast food?"
"You said you wanted pancakes. There was a Pizza Hut on the right side of the street, but no…" Dean smirked and got out of the car, leaving Sam cringing in the passenger seat. "You coming or not, and we're not stopping anywhere else until we talk to the Lewisons again."
Woefully, Sam got out of the car and resigned to following his brother into the bright and cheerful world of the hamburger. Pushing past an elderly couple talking flamboyantly in the entryway he joined his brother in an expectantly long line. The overweight man in front of them turned around and smiled, fisting a fifty. Dean smiled back, like an idiot. Sam could see the woman at the counter walking around leisurely filling orders with no hurry at all. She stopped and mingled with a male associate for at least three minutes before she finally turned back to fill the family at the front of the line's order.
An older man with a tall wife and their four kids all stood at the front of line bickering about their orders. First the kids couldn't decide what they wanted, then they constantly were changing their orders of fries to onion rings and back. And the cheerful woman at the counter found this all very amusing. Sam looked back to see his brother in an intense conversation with a vicarious redhead. Sighing softly, he glanced back to see the mother trying to find exact change for a thirty-eight dollar and seventy-seven cent meal. The line advanced and with Dean so engaged in the young woman's 'face' he stood blocking the way for an ever-increasing number of patrons. Bleakly he wondered if could get away with tapping Dean on the shoulder and saying, "Honey, we're next in line," without getting violently exorcised the next night. Sam simply pulled on the back of his brother's collar, instead, to escort him to the proper places in line. He heard someone clap as the new wave of people squirmed around the hole Dean made.
"Sam, what the hell!" was Dean's irritated response to being pulled away from the conversation he was having. "I was talking to the nice secretary... and you.. the hell?"
Through Dean's irate sputtering and ignoring the glaring attention of nearly everyone in the small restaurant he said quietly, "your turn to order."
"What! Fine. You and I are going to have a chat about respect later…"
Placing their trays on a greasy table, they sat and Sam contemplated eating the rubbery golden flap jacks. Sam looked around the small packed fast food joint, but his eyes settled on Dean. The dark smudges underneath his brother's eyes were disconcerting. His older brother was looking out the window into the street, gazing at nothing. The thin drawn lines of his face portrayed every bit of weariness that Sam would not have guessed he had. Chewing absently Sam felt a fresh pain of guilt stab him, he vaguely remember someone talking to him, all night. Dean hadn't slept, hadn't rested, and had not even joked about looking like shit himself. Dean was starting to neglect himself for his own brother. Hm, what a sad pair of freaks we make. Something then was not sitting right, and the mauled remains of cold batter and sugar gave him a sickly feel.
"Come on Sam," Dean said quickly, getting up from the table tray in hand, "time to go," Setting the dark brown tray by the trash, Dean fixed the back of his collar, "Come on Sammy," he repeated, giving his younger brother a quick cuff to the arm before muttering to himself, "She was a secretary." A low moan of disapproval could have had Sam shaking his head, if it was not already doing that on its own.
"Another time, Dean, please. Not right now," Sam groaned as he dropped his heavy feeling body disjointedly into the soft leather of the passenger seat, noting that Dean had managed to pull a worn plastic cassette tape from thin air as he slid easily behind the steering wheel.
"Sorry Sammy," he said with a half ass smile and a shake of his head, "consider this my revenge for interrupting my wooing conversation of the easy and stunning Ms... Uh… Kathy… Caitlin…uh…" Dean shrugged as he neglected the rest of his thought and pushed the over played tape into the deck.
"What conversation? You were going to flirt with her for another five maybe ten minutes, anyway," Sam scoffed white knuckling the dash as Dean ruthlessly changed lanes.
"Hey, I was looking at maybe even a date out of that little deal after we're done this job." Dean made a sudden right turn onto an exit that would have Hollywood stunt drivers impressed.
"How did you ever get your driver's license?" Sam shot at Dean, thankful that he couldn't recall that period of time with much clarity.
"Actually that was the first time I ever forged an official document without Dad having to point out any errors," Dean said with a proud smile. Sam snickered disgustedly.
"I can tell. Do you even know what a speed limit is?" Shaking his head, Sam said, "don't answer that. I think TV was the only reason we even knew about 'normal life.'" Sam ignored the hurt puppy look he received from his brother. It wasn't that Dean was a horrible driver- he had to be good to pull of the tricks that were regularly accomplished in their line of work- it was just that every other move he made on the road was illegal. Well, Sam mused to himself, why should driving be any different than any other part of their lives.
Dean stopped the old Keith Richard's tape, "All right, Sam, give me the crash course in the play. My total knowledge of Romeo and Juliet is that they killed themselves in the end."
"Could you please not mention the word crash? And that's just sad. Ah, in the beginning it shows a scene of the houses of Capulet and Montague fighting in the streets of Vienna. The Prince stops the fighting under pain of death of any who are involved in the feud." Sam made a sideways glance to his brother to see if he was following.
"That's harsh."
"Yep," Sam said taking a deep breath and continued. "Lord and Lady Montague were worried about their son Romeo because he was becoming a recluse. His true love, well the woman he desired, did not want his affections, and wished to stay chaste."
"Chaste?"
"Untouched, pure…" Sam waved his hand in an ongoing motion.
"Oh a virgin… I can sympathize there."
"So, Romeo's friends take him to a party at the Capulet's, where across the floor he sees Juliet. He convinces her to dance with him, they kiss and do the whole fall in love thing." Dean noticed a sour note of resentment in Sam's voice.
"Later that night he proposes to her and they get married the next dawn with only her nurse and their trusted Friar as witness. That day Romeo goes off to prepare for their wedding night and he meets Juliet's cousin Tybalt in the street. He refuses to fight his in-law, so his fried Mercutio protects him, and dies. Romeo takes Tybalt's life in revenge, and is therefore banished from Vienna, and not executed because Mercutio was the Prince's cousin." Sam took a sip of his corrosive and a wave of queasiness returned.
"They meet in secret and have a romantic night together before he slinks off to a nearby city. Juliet then learns that her father is forcing her to marry someone else- Paris, a wealthy nobleman. And seeks the Friar's help in returning her to her husband. So on her last night before the wedding she takes a potion that feigns death- kind of like that voodoo drug I accidentally took and had you both balling your eyes out over me. So she 'dies' and Romeo never gets word of the plan. Rushing to her side, he ends up fighting and killing Paris, and then-"
"Stabs himself! That part I know!"
"Actually, he takes some poison. Juliet wakes to see him dead, and then kills herself with his dagger. The families realize that their hatred for one anther killed their children and make nice."
"I was mostly right about the stabbing thing," Dean said with a nod, committing everything he just heard to memory. "So how'd the entire play get stuck in your head?"
Shrugging Sam said, "Wrote an English midterm on it last year." Giving his head a short shake- whishing sincerely that he hadn't- Sam studied Dean and the perturbed look etched across his face. "Don't look at me like that. That test was horrible! I was just this side of summoning the great Shakespeare himself to explain it to me."
"I would have." Dean smiled back at Sam. "That's pretty complicated for what we think is going on here. I hope this isn't all based on that play. I bet the Cliff Notes version is like forty bucks."
"So what's the family like? I would rather not walk in there blind." Sam relaxed in his seat as the car passed through the center of city.
Dean's low voice rumbled on, "That kid you spoke to on the phone, he's got the whole bitterness thing going, couldn't crack him. The mother is the apple pie type, you know the whole can't stand silence for more than thirty seconds- 'Would you like these fresh baked pastries.' The old man's pretty quiet, misses his little girl."
"So co-operation is out with the only witness," Sam said rolling his eyes.
"Hey, you could give it a whirl. I mean you're kinda functioning on the same wave length," Dean said with his patented smart ass smile, noting the lack of rise it got out of Sam. "We're here," Dean said, his voice thick with worry for his little brother, cut through the thick silence that'd hung in the car- staling up the air- since he'd tried to poke fun at Sam and his grouchy mood nearly twenty minutes before.
Pulling the car into the neighbor's driveway, Dean put it into park. Judging by the number of newspapers piled up on the porch, he guessed that they weren't coming back before he and Sam were ready to leave.
Walking confidently to the front door, Dean reached to knock as it was swung open. The salt and peppered hair of the woman, who looked as though she were in her fifties, bounced slightly- though never falling out of place- as she gracefully moved to the side allowing them access to her house. Sam ducked around the low light fixture in the cramped porch, and kicked off his shoes.
Smiling sadly, yet somehow gratefully, the woman led them to her kitchen table. They could see a pot bubbling on the stove. Sam turned to introduce himself, feeling his near never used manners kicking to the surface; he'd learned those from TV too. Her deep green eyes widened at the sight of the gauze tapped to his forehead. Unconsciously Sam reached up to touch it, and shrugged. "Hello Mrs. Lewison, my name is Sam Winchester, I was unable to come last night." He gave her his most charming smile, it even rivaled his elder brother's. She barely noticed.
"Sorry, if this little bump bothers you," his eyes flicked to Dean who was glaring at him, for whatever reason, "it's fine really. I was just kind of clumsy last night."
She took a breath and turned to face Dean, "What do you plan on doing?"
"Well, we are gonna try summoning any spirits that have visited her room lately. It will take us a few minutes to set up in there though. Do you have any salt, 'fraid we're fresh out." She nodded and returned to her cupboard, pulling out a box. Dean took it, and pulled Sam to the stairwell. "What was that about?"
"Don't know… she just freaked." Sam took the stairs slowly; his too heavy head weighing him down again.
Dean pulled open the door to the bedroom for his brother, turning in time to see the younger brother step out of his room. The young man sent a baleful glare towards Dean, and turned toward Sam. The young man's emotional eyes caught sight of the bandage on Sam's head and he stopped, staring at the older man in wonder.
"Where did you get that?" he managed to choke past his dried lips. Looking like a deer caught in headlights, Sam eyed the young man's countenance suspiciously.
"He was sleep waking, tripped and cut his head on the bathroom sink," Dean finally answered- a little too truthfully- breaking the momentary silence that was edging toward awkward.
The boy's dark eyes widened, further, and he mumbled something to himself; neither Winchester could decipher. "What?" Sam's less than amused voice caught the boy off guard.
"It's… just…Karin, she did the same thing six days before she…" Dean's eyes widened as he turned to stare at his brother in both horror and suspicion. What was Sam not telling him? Other than the many things that Sam would never tell him. Obviously rattled and oblivious to the look that passed between the brothers continued on with his story, "and she…uh…found the knife…the knife… that she…ah…after she woke up. She pleaded with me not to tell anyone, and I didn't…I promised…I never…didn't see it again until she…The police phoned today, it's disappeared from the evidence locker " Becoming and impossible shade of paler, the boy looked between the two and asked in a less shaky voice than before, "What's going on?"
Collecting his thoughts first, Dean said, "We're going to find who ever hurt your sister, and send them back to what ever hell they popped out of."
Nodding the kid turned back to his room. Sam pushed Dean's shoulder, "Lets get this over with, Dean. Then I'm going to melt that knife." The two went into the room and took a seat on the beige carpet. Dean drew a line of salt around them to contain the spirits they were going to summon, while Sam pulled a worn canvas out of the duffle bag. Biting back his fear and worry, Sam chanted softly in Latin chimes. "All of those that have come into this place and time, reveal your likeness, to you I summon," speaking loudly Sam finished off in an English phrase.
Both brothers bowed their heads as they felt the air cool around them. A single lit candle on the canvas expelled a great burst of flame. The flaring light died down to a single ember as eleven shapes circled over their heads. The cold whispering forms held some shape as they stopped and drifted above at rest above Sam and Dean. The voice's and accents of many different origins gently repeated, "she comes."
A cold sickly voice, a low reverberating sound, droned over the agonized and hushed whispers, "we have come. And you have brought the thirtieth for me." In seemingly slow motion a black cloud manifested in the center of where the voices were coming from. Before either brother could think, or act it dove down, coming between Sam and Dean. A shout of warning stopped in Dean's throat as he watched the cloud appear to turn and then cover his little brother. Sam's head fell back, his arms spread wide- as though he were being hit with a live electrical wire- and an agonized scream escaped him, filling the cold air of the room. As suddenly as it began it ended. Hour long seconds passed before Sam tipped his head back to stare at Dean. His breath lodged in his throat, and his heart threatening to burst through his ribs, Dean watched with horror filled eyes as the nearly hidden face of Sam seemed to examine him. Though the light was almost nonexistent Dean could see that there was something wrong with the picture staring back at him.
Dean's heart sank as it broke beneath his ribs, boring into his hazel eyes were black, inky, eyes instead of Sam's expressive brown ones.
Ha ha a cliffie, nana na nah na.
There were a few technical problems so I'm hoping the formatting isn't skewed, bare with me.
Hope you guys are gnawing at the bit; I want to hear from all of you. You guys amaze and thrill me with all of your reviews. Keep it up!
Reviewer Responses:
Jenn: Thanks for your compliments and support!
Warriora: Thanks a lot, and I was quick enough for you I hope!
Windyfontaine: Thanks for your positive encouragement, and your probably the first reviewer who acknowledged the need for a writer to sleep.
Stony Angel: Thanks, you have me blushing, but really I always appreciate the appreciation…
DawnLove: You are so encouraging, and I'm glad that you believe that I am doing a decent job with the characterization. The Iny fics aren't mine, but my sister would love to hear from you.
Cyberchick2007: You are so dedicated, its amazing to see that people enjoy what I write so much, thanks.
Tanya: Yeh, I love the brotherly fighting fluff myself… I will thank you for both your reviews.
Shadowcat15: Thanks so much, I am trying to update faster than I did this week.
SomeoneElsesDream: You didn't step on my toes, but I'm glad I intrigued you.
Nate and Jake: Thanks a lot, I really tried.
Violet Eternity: I love reviews like yours, I really tried to update as soon as I was able.
Ghostwriter: Thanks again, interesting origin of your little catch phrase…
Southercharm22: Your help is appreciated, I gave you an email, if you are still interested, drop me a line. Oh and thanks for your review, I glad you believe I am staying true to the creators ideas and guides.
Charli: I love and angsty Sam, and I love your very encouraging review! Thanks, I was trying to get a creepy factor in all of this.
Dyrne-Faemne: Ah, your kinda close with your prediction, in a third cousin removed sorta way. Thanks for your support and encouragement of my view of the show aligning with the actual writers.
Jessica: Sam is my favorite too. Thanks for the encouragement.
ChaiGirl: Thanks, I glad I hooked someone with this. I was worried about the suspense factor.
HappyBear2005: Thanks for the review and the understanding, I hope the slightly longer wait didn't throw you off. Really I didn't mean to come down with the flu. (inject self-pity)
Little Wing: I am so amazed and very happy with the excellent job you did editing this chapter. Oh, you certainly are a great asset to this work. I really hope you continue to do this. Your insight and ideas are wonderful and fresh. Thanks is not appreciation enough…!
Dark Fires: Thanks for review again. I glad I caught your eye, and this chapters ending probably annoyed, just a little bit. Gotta thank my beta for a slight extension though.
Dreama Azaleia Wingblade: I am glad that you love this fic so much, just one person like you would have me continue this.
Moonfairyhime: Thanks so much for your positive review, I'm glad you appriciate my style and compliment me, I'm getting a big head about all of this…
REVIEWER RESPONSE ARE GETTING LONGER THAN THE CHAPTER KEEP IT UP!