Chapter Nine
By the time Ken dropped the brothers off at the motel, it was dark. He assured them that he'd bring the list of sightings over in the morning. Sam was more than thankful that they'd finally found people who were willing to help them. He was beginning to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about what they were trying to do. The Mothman was a big thing, bigger than anything they'd gone up against before. And Sam wasn't even sure if they were working against the Mothman or with it. He was getting frustrated trying to figure out the clues. Together, they meant nothing. They were just sentences and it made Sam think that maybe the clues weren't clues, but directions, like on a map. He wondered if he were to follow them long enough, perhaps they would lead him towards figuring out what it was they were supposed to be stopping.
It was all so confusing and they were practically running on empty. Sam could still feel the effects of the freezing water in his sore limbs and still tight chest. Coupled with the overwhelming knot of worry that had formed itself in the pit of his stomach, Sam felt utterly drained. But he knew he had to tough it out. He had to tough it out because if he didn't, a lot of people would get hurt and the guilt he would feel afterwards was something that he didn't want to deal with. Guilt was an emotion he knew too well, he didn't need to be reacquainted.
And through it all, through everything they'd found out and everything they'd had to deal with, Sam found himself hoping that Jessica would call again. God how he wanted to hear her voice again. When he'd gotten the phone call and had heard her say his name, it had felt as thought something inside of him had ignited again, something that had been extinguished for a while. Her words, as random as they had been, had fueled his inner desire to hold her again, to touch her again, to see her again. It had reminded him of how much he missed her, how much he hated the fact that she was gone, never to come back. He'd give anything to have her call again, anything just to hear her say his name one more time, even if it wasn't truly her. He just wanted to hear her voice, like an addict given a taste of something he'd long since quit. He needed more, and the pain of not having it was enough to make him ache with sores he didn't even know he had.
Dean slammed the door shut behind them and Sam turned to see a semi-sheepish look cross his brother's face, though it was lost amongst the bruises and the heavy bags that had formed underneath his eyes. They'd stopped to get some carry-out and Sam was annoyed when he realized he should have been hungry but wasn't. In fact, just the smell of the food made him nauseous. But he knew he had to suck it up and eat something, because if he didn't, Dean would get worried about him instead of worrying about himself. So Sam took one of the boxes and practically fell into a chair. He took a bite of what he guessed was supposed to be lasagna and looked up at his brother. Dean was removing his coat, rather gingerly. He sat down on the bed and grunted as he leaned over to take off his shoes. Sam guessed he was completely unaware that he was being watched because he had such a grimace on his face that Sam was somewhat tempted to offer help.
Finally, Dean had managed to strip down to just his pants and a t-shirt. Sam noticed the bruised left arm and the bandaged right wrist. God he must have been sore. Instead of watching his brother painfully gain his feet, Sam grabbed the other carry-out box and handed it over to him. Dean's eyebrows cocked at that, but he accepted it and then crawled backwards on the bed until he was leaned against the headboard. The brothers ate quietly for a moment, neither one of them too overjoyed to be forcing themselves to eat.
After just a few bites, Dean put the food on the side table and grabbed the remote, turning on the television and flipping through the channels. Sam followed suit by putting his food down but rose to his feet and glared at the television for a moment before turning back to his brother. "You should get some sleep," he said.
Dean eyed him with a cocky looked and smiled. "This coming from my little brother, the insomniac," Dean grumbled in fake irritation. Sam just sighed and sat down on the opposite bed, not really feeling up to the normal banter with his brother. Dean must have picked up on it because he set down the remote and stood up, taking his pants off so he was just in his boxers and t-shirt before he reached for the painkillers and swallowed two of them dry before pulling the blankets back on the bed and laying down. "Don't worry cupcake," he said, his voice already drifting. "Just need Rudolph to lull me to sleep."
Sam watched as in a matter of seconds, Dean was on his stomach, face turned towards Sam because he couldn't put it any other way without hurting, and fast asleep. He smiled and turned to look at the television, where a claymation movie about Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer was playing. Sam recognized the movie from when they were kids. They used to watch it on Christmas Eve, late at night when John though they were sleeping. It had been sort of a secret tradition between the brothers until Dean had grown out of it. Sam hadn't really understood why his brother had suddenly stopped wanting to watch it, but he guessed it had something to do with Rudolph and Santa being a harsh reminder of a life Dean couldn't have. It was a reminder that he wasn't like other kids. There were so many things that reminded them both of that while they were growing up. But it hurt to know that such an innocent tradition had caused so much pain in his brother.
Leaning back on his bed, Sam watched the movie for a while, feeling his mood drifting slowly to a melancholy mix between sadness and remembrance. His eyes were growing heavy. As tired as he was, he was still hesitant about falling asleep, knowing that he would undoubtedly dream of Jess, considering the amount of time he'd spent thinking of her throughout the day. He sighed and glanced over at Dean. His brother hadn't so much as stirred. Finally, sucking it up, Sam turned off the television and laid back. Sleep overcame him quickly.
Sam didn't know how long he slept. He awoke not to the feeling of being refreshed, but to stiffness and soreness in his limbs. He moaned slightly as he stretched and flexed his muscles, willing his body to loosen up after what felt like a million years of stillness. When his head cleared a bit more from the sleep, he turned to see if Dean was still asleep. Unsurprisingly, he was, and he hadn't moved except for the kicking off of the blankets. One of Dean's arms was hanging off the bed, the other reaching under his pillow, hand around the hilt of the knife he kept there no doubt.
Yawning, Sam sat up and looked at the clock. They'd been asleep for nearly seven hours. He was surprised. It had been a while since he'd slept that long, without being woken by a nightmare. His dreams hadn't been all that nightmarish, they'd actually being pleasantly tame. It was still dark out, around five in the morning. He wondered if he should wake Dean up to make sure he was all right, but he knew how much Dean hated being up before six. He looked again at his brother and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. Even as he was watching him, Dean shifted on the bed with a groan before settling again. That gave Sam a bit of assurance that his brother wasn't brain dead, well, technically, Sam thought with a snort.
A half an hour later, Sam was showered and dressed and feeling a bit less stiff. He sat at the table, looking through articles about the Mothman, about Fort Sudak, about anything he could find that may help them. But he wasn't really having much luck. He knew they wouldn't have much luck until Ken came by with the list of people who had reported encounters with the Mothman.
As if on cue, someone knocked on the door. Sam got up quickly, hearing Dean stirring and not wanting to wake him up quite yet. He got to the door and opened it, fully expecting to find Ken on the other side. He was momentarily stunned to see that it was actually Kate. She smiled at him and held up a box of breakfast food and a tray of coffee. "I brought food," she whispered as she looked inside and saw Dean still asleep. Sam smiled and stepped aside, letting her in. She set the food down on the table and turned to look at Dean. "How is he?" she asked and Sam was surprised by the genuine concern there.
Sam shrugged, greedily helping himself to one of the coffees. "Tired, I guess," he said, sipping his drink. "He's not really a heavy sleeper."
Kate nodded, taking one of the coffees as well. "Anyone would be tired after all you guys have been through." They stood in silence for a moment before Kate finally turned to Sam looking sorry. "I had to leave Eric," she said apologetically. "It would have been weird if I spent the night there. But I told his mother what to look for. She's had an encounter with the Mothman as well, so she believed me. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Sam assured her. "I didn't think you'd have to stay with him so long."
Kate smiled appreciatively and sat down, her eyes drifting towards Dean again. Sam sat down as well and scrolled again through the articles. Kate maneuvered herself so she was looking at the screen. "So what are you going to do now?" she asked.
He wasn't really sure how to answer her, because truthfully he didn't know. "We'll just have to wait until Ken shows us the list. From there we'll try to figure something out. I've been thinking that maybe these clues have been leading us somewhere. Like we're not supposed to put them together, we're just supposed to follow them."
"That would make a lot more sense," Kate agreed. She eyed him for a moment before leaning forward across the table. Sam watched her tentatively. "Do you do this often?" she asked.
"What?" Sam whispered, though he was sure he knew what she was talking about.
"This," Kate waved her hand around the room. "All this weird stuff. You seem like you know what you're doing."
Snorting a bit, Sam leaned back, watching as Kate studied his face. He sighed and shook his head. "Half the time I don't know what I'm doing," he confessed. "Like right now. I don't know how we're going to stop this thing."
"But you've done stuff like this before?" Kate asked, interested now.
"Nothing nearly this big," Sam whispered. "We don't normally talk about what we do." Kate seemed to accept the answer and leaned back. "We've been doing stuff like this since I was a baby. My Dad and my brother…they're really driven. I got away once, but, after Jess died, I knew I couldn't escape it." Sam didn't know why he was confiding in Kate like this, but he felt like he hadn't been able to do so in a long time. Every once in a while he could get stuff out to Dean, but sometimes there were things that he wasn't even sure he could tell his brother.
Kate reached across the table and put a hand on his. He realized he must have been staring and he smiled at her. She nodded her head towards where Dean was still laying on the bed. "I know I haven't known you all that long, but it seems like you're really helping him." Sam smiled slightly and went to shake his head, to tell her that he ended up being saved more times than he did the saving, but Kate didn't let him get it out. "I saw the way he worries over you. He really cares for you. Do you think he could have done all this on his own?"
No. Plain and simple. Sam had never thought about it, but the answer had come swiftly. Sure, Dean had gone on hunts alone while Sam was off to college, but Sam couldn't imagine what it must have been like. They'd always been a team. They worked well together in figuring things out. How many times had Dean saved Sam's ass? How many times had Sam been there for Dean? When one fell, the other pulled them up. That's how it always was. He tried to picture his brother facing the Mothman by himself. What if Dean had crashed his car alone? He would have sat in that car and frozen to death. The thought made Sam shudder.
Sam didn't have time to answer though as a groan came from the bed. Both Kate and himself looked towards Dean, who was pushing himself up into a sitting position on the bed. He reached a hand up to rub his eyes and winced as he rubbed the bruised side a bit too hard. Finally, Dean pulled his hand away and realized that he was being watched. "What time is it?" he asked tiredly.
"Around five thirty," Sam said, watching as Dean groaned and rubbed his eyes again. Then he looked over at Kate and was immediately awake.
"You sure like seeing me with my clothes off," he said and swung his legs off the bed.
Kate scoffed while Sam merely smiled at her expense. She pointed a finger at Dean. "I am happily married, need I remind you," she growled, but then the playfulness returned to her eyes as she said, "Besides, my husband has a good three inches on you."
Sam couldn't help the laugh that came out at the look on his brother's face. Dean pushed himself up and glared at Kate as he made his way towards the bathroom, grabbing some clothes on the way. "I hope you're talking about height," Dean growled back.
"The world will never know," Kate chirped. Dean gave her another glare before he closed the bathroom door. The shower sounded moments later.
Sam and Kate continued to talk for a while, about anything and everything. They talked about her husband, about her kids, about her job. They talked about Jess, though Sam was a little reluctant to get too deep into it. They talked about Dean, which turned more into a laughing fit than a talk, much to Sam's amusement. By the time the shower stopped running, Sam was feeling a lot better. He liked talking with Kate. Even though she reminded him so much of Jess, she was fun and fresh. It was something Sam had been needing for a while.
The bathroom door opened and Sam turned to see Dean standing there, finally clothed. He was still toweling the water out of his hair and he had a razor out to shave with. The steam was nearly pouring out of the bathroom and Sam realized that Dean must have had the heat turned on full blast. He was probably starting to feel the soreness from the car accident. The aches always came days later.
"One of those coffees better be for me," Dean called as he was running his hands through his hair, trying to get it looking the way he liked.
Kate answered him. "Would you like cream and sugar, princess?"
Sam snorted and turned to look at his brother. It had been a while since Dean had met someone as resistant to his charm as Kate. Dean had his hands placed on the sink and was staring into the mirror at Kate. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could backtalk her, the bathroom door swung shut with such force that it rattled the frame. Sam and Kate both startled a bit. Sam was on his feet in an instant, heading for the door. He could hear Dean on the other side, jiggling the handle trying to get it open. Sam tried the same thing from his side of the door.
"The hell?" Dean yelled, frustrated. He gave the door a solid kick, but it didn't budge. He heard Sam on the other side telling him to step back, that he was going to try and kick it in. Dean nodded, not even noticing that his brother couldn't see it. He heard Sam kick at the door, but still it didn't move.
Dean was about to yell out some obscenity when he heard something move behind him. He froze, already in the back of his mind knowing what he was going to find. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he looked around quickly for a weapon before realizing he had none. Dammit. He took a breath and spun swiftly, swiping out with a fist.
He felt it before he saw it. Something slammed into his gut, sending him backward painfully into the door with a shattering force. The door didn't budge, though, much to Dean's disappointment and frustration as his body took the full impact. He grunted and heard Sam yell his name on the other side, but he ignored his brother for the moment, more worried about getting this fucker away from him.
Dean pounded his fists down onto whatever was holding him against the door and was shocked as it suddenly let him go and stood so quickly that Dean didn't even know it was moving until it had hold of both his wrists, rather painfully, and swung him around into the wall mirror. The mirror shattered all around him and whatever had a hold of him was pining him back against the bathroom counter. He was bent backwards over it, his legs pressed against the thing holding him and his back bent awkwardly so his head was up against the wall. He was pretty sure that spines weren't meant to bend like this.
Finally getting a look at what was attacking him, Dean drew in a breath. There was no doubt in his mind it was the same creature he'd been seeing for the past few days. It was the Mothman. It's brown body was hairy, yet slick. It was rough to the touch. It stood well above Dean's height and as it leaned over him, it's full body mass was pressing onto him heavily, pining him with a strength that was inhuman. It's hands, which were holding Dean's wrists tightly, were long fingered and bony. It's face was red and hideous. Eyes that glowed with a brighter red than the skin were staring at him with such a gaze that Dean felt his heart skip a few beats. The mouth was wide, spread almost across the entire head. But when it spoke, the mouth didn't open.
Fight. Not you. It said in a voice so deep, so ugly, so horrid that Dean shivered involuntarily as the words seemed to run over his skin, crawl into his bones. He gave a struggled whimper as he tried to get the creature off of him, realizing that the crushing weight was now cutting off his air. His whole body was shaking with the exertion of trying to keep his spine from breaking. Distantly, he heard Sam and Kate yelling something, but all he could see, all he could hear, all he could think about was the thing that had him pined. It repeated its earlier words. Fight. Not you.
Sam was panicked. When he'd heard Dean slam up against the door, he'd thought maybe his brother was trying to break it down until he heard the pained grunt and the sound of a struggle. He yelled Dean's name, seeing Kate come up beside him, looking just as worried. When the sound of the mirror breaking filtered out, Sam had had enough. He told Kate to keep trying to open the door and had shuffled through the duffle bag, hurriedly until he found the gun. He'd loaded it and ran back to the door, ready to blow the lock off.
Before Sam could fire the gun, the door suddenly popped open. Sam shoved the gun at Kate, who didn't even question why he had it as Sam flung the door open and immediately spotted his brother slumping to the floor. He ran forward and caught him, but then continued to lower them both down. Dean's face was wild with fear. He was breathing heavily and his nose was bleeding again, more fiercely than before. But other than that and a few new bruises, there didn't seem to be anything horribly wrong with him.
"Dean?" Sam asked, watching as his brother seemed to calm and looked around the room slightly before his eyes landed on Sam. "What happened?" he asked patiently.
"I'm getting sick of this guy catching me in the bathroom," Dean said, though his face still looked fearful. Sam smiled slightly, but didn't let go of his brother. "Pretty soon I'm gonna be afraid to take a piss."
"Well," Sam said, aware that the light banter was his brother's way of washing away the fear and unease. "I'd offer to hold your hand but that would be kind of awkward."
Dean chuckled finally and looked at Sam. "That was a bit more up close and personal than I would have liked," Dean said, taking one final breath before he seemed to calm down back to normal.
"What happened?" Sam asked again. He saw Kate standing in the doorway, the gun held protectively to her chest. She was watching the whole thing in shock.
"Fucker knocked me around a bit," Dean said, trying to gain his feet. Sam kept a hand on his arm and helped him up. He found it odd that Dean didn't protest, but he could only guess that he was more than little freaked out about having yet another encounter with the Mothman. Hell, Sam was freaked out and he hadn't even seen the thing. "Then he pined me and said, 'Fight. Not you.' What the hell does that mean?" he asked angrily.
Sam shook his head. "I have no idea," he gave with an apologetic look. "But that's the third time you've seen him." Dean nodded, running a hand over his face. Sam didn't have to go on, he knew that Dean was picking up on what he was saying. Most people had one encounter with the Mothman. Dean had had three. Each one of them getting more intense. Sam didn't want to know what would happen if there was a fourth. He hoped he wouldn't have to find out.
Author's Note: Sorry about the bit of a wait. My Dad totaled the car and we've been dealing with that for the past few days. (He's fine by the way.) This chapter was a hard one to get out for some reason. But the good news is that I've plotted the rest of the story so the next chapters should be pretty easy and exciting. Thanks to everyone who is still reading. I appreciate it. And thanks to all the reviewers who I haven't replied to! For some reason, it won't let me reply to everyone. And you anonymous people drive me nuts, but I still love you, lol. Happy New Years to everyone!