Well, here is the new chapter my lovelies, and I hope it gets as much positive feedback as the last ones have. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! My goal is 50 reviews.- Heather XOX
Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural or anything affiliated, I would not be here writing about it, I would probably be out, letting Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki hand feed me chocolate coated strawberries. JK! (Actually, no...I probably would:))
AN: If you have a fear of rats, this chapter is probably not for you. But even if you do hate rats, please read it anyways, cause it makes me happy.
Dean's breath caught in his throat as Melanie and her supposed mother, Mrs. Hannigan turned and walked up the stairs, without so much as a second glance back at their prisoners. Once they were out of sight, he dug at the metal clamp binding his ankle to the wall, his now dirty fingernails scrabbling at the cold iron.
"Damn, damn, damn…" He repeated to himself, as his attempts to free himself proved as fruitless as a five year old playing tug-o-war with an elephant.
He heard a rustle beside him, and snapped his head around to look. The basement was almost pitch black and had hundreds of small nooks and crannies, but Dean's hazel eyes soon adjusted, and he came face to face with one of the most disgusting sights he had ever seen. Rats. Oodles of them, all climbing over one another and squeaking, their hard nails clicking and long tails swishing along the cement floor.
Now, Dean had been a ghost hunter ever since he was a child, and he had seen some pretty gruesome things. Mangled bodies, twisted and disfigured spirits, and more blood than the average surgeon saw in a lifetime. But none of that changed the fact that he hated rats with a fiery passion, and he had despised the disgusting sewer crawlers since he was a kid.
Dean stared at the filthy writhing mass of rats and then over at his little brother. He had to wake him up. If not, the rats would surely find their way over to him, and then… Dean gulped. He had seen plenty of old cop shows and mob torture specials (what can I say? He was a pretty morbid teenager at times.). He had seen enough that he knew what the rats would do to Sammy. And Sammy's flesh…
"Sam!" He called over. "Sam, get up!"
"Mmm." Sam groaned. His arm twitched, and he moved slightly. Dean took this as a good sign. His baby brother wasn't dead, but Dean was still worried at the fact that he wasn't moving.
"Why is Sam always the one who gets hurt?" He mumbled to himself, looking at his brother with an unbreakable gaze, it was almost as though he was trying to will him awake.
"Hey, Sammy. Buddy, you've got to get up. Like now" Dean said to him, picking up asmall cement chip that had broken off the unfinished wall and throwing it at his most likely concussed brother's head.
"Ow." Sam mumbled. He moved again and then rolled over slowly. Dean fought to control the gasp that threatened to escape when he saw the puddle of sticky red blood that Sam's head had been lying in.
"Sam, don't try and move too much. Take it slow." Dean advised, looking out of the tiny window opposite him at the reflection of the moon. It shone as bright as a big wheel of white cheese, and looked as plastic as one too. Stars glittered in the sky like sparkles. Despite the night skies beauty, however, the fact still remained that Dean and Sam were in danger."On second thought, take it fast. Very fast." He said, remembering Mrs. Hannigan's words about how he and Sam only had till sunrise.
"Dean, what? What… Is going… Going on?" Sam's words were slurred and spaced very far apart causing him to sound like he was intoxicated or had a really bad hangover, probably due to the concussion that he had suffered when Mrs. Hannigan had hit him upside the head, with what Dean had later realized to be a metal crock-pot.
"Don't talk. You have a concussion." Dean said quickly, trying to get the foundation of a chick flick moment out of the way as fast as possible.
"Okay… Where… Where are… We?" Sam managed to wheeze.
"We're in Mrs. Hannigan's basement. But first, brace yourself for this." Dean glanced at the rats out of the corner of his eye, assuring himself that they were a safe distance away. " Mrs. Hannigan is Melanie's mother."
"Who's Melanie? Oh…Right. Is she… the waitress from that... Dumpy diner?"
"What did I say about talking? Or the fact that there should be a lack of it coming from you? Yes, moron, she's the waitress. Mrs. Hannigan is her mother, and they are controlling the Heart Snatcher spirit of William Friedmont. They are the ones that put us here." Dean explained.
"I figured. Well,... I figured everything except... For the mother thing." Sam smiled, his speech becoming a little clearer. It didn't sound like he was severly drunk anymore, just severly concussed.
"Well, stop your grinning and untie your ropes. We're gonna have our hearts ripped out of our chest's if we're not out of here by sunrise, either by the spirit or those rabid rats over there."
Sam's eyes grew wide and he quickly untied the ropes around his wrists like he had had to do in so many other hostage occasions. Once he was done, he fished around in his jeans pocket and pulledthe pocketknife that he kept with him at all times (Hey, he learned something from his old man, didn't he?). He used the small blade to jimmy the old lock on his chain clamp, and his ankles were free.
Dean stared in disbelief. "You had that the whole time and you didn't tell me?"
"Uh, maybe you're… you're forgetting that I… I was knocked out for about… A half hour."
"Give me that." Dean snapped, his face flushing. "I can't believe that they didn't search your pockets. Amateurs." He snorted as he tried to unlock his own chain.
"Well, come… on then. Hurry up." Sam fidgeted impatiently, raising a hand to feel the gash on his forehead.
"Its not coming off…" The elder brother wrinkled his forehead and bit his lip in concentration. "It is too rusted. Shit!" The blade of the knife broke with an unsatisfying snap. "Why did I have to get the fucking rusted lock!"
"Calm… Down.' Sam rasped. "I'll go and find… Another knife. Get to the car or something."
"Fine. But be careful. And hurry." Dean added, tossing the keys to his brother. "They didn't even take my car keys!" He laughed at the lack of hostage holding professionalism that Melanie and her mother possessed.
Sam nodded and stood up slowly and shakily. He put his hand to his head again and wiped as much of the dried blood off as he could with his trembling hand. He really didn't want to leave his brother, especially with the fact that he could barely stand up on his own and the fact that Dean was chained to a wall with hundreds ofcarnivorous rats frolicking just around the corner.
Dean watched his baby brother climb the stairs, gripping the banister with white knuckles, and then glanced out at the moon again. It was slowly going down, and the darkness of the night was lightening and giving way to the coming day.
Dean jumped as far as the metal would allow when he felt something touch his foot.
What he saw scared the shit out of him. There was a great dirty rat crawling up the leg of his jeans and there were three more sniffing around his left shoe, their long spidery whiskers twitching.
He swatted the rats away frantically, but they just kept coming.
"Get off!" He yelled, hitting the rats left and right. "Ahhh!" He screamed (a manly scream though.) , as two of the rats bit him, their razor sharp and probably infected yellow teeth digging deep into his skin. The rats kept coming and coming, and they kept on biting and biting. Dean continued to brush the miniscule furry bodies off of him, and he prayed that his little brother would be safe, and that he would come back soon, with another knife, and Dean would be able to get out of this rat infested cold cement hell as soon as possible.
Don't forget to R&R!
Thanks every one for all of your kind reviews, and thanks for all your volleyball support!We just had about four practices in the space of two days and I stunk up the court, so my postition on the starting line may be in jeopardy, but still. Go Rick Hansen Secondary!