Reprisals chpt 7

While Dean searched the blackness of his cell with his hands, looking, as it were, for any means of releasing himself from this impromptu imprisonment while Sam went back to the car for the shotgun, he cursed himself for needing to come here. For once more putting them both in unnecessary danger.

"We could've waited for night at the motel, we could've shot some pool, or gone swimming or played FREAKIN' CHECKERS! but NO! Let's go check out the psycho's old house! Damned Stinkin' Brilliant Dean!" he hollered at himself as he slammed his fists against the heavy wooden door of his cell. He knew far too well that the doors opened outward, which could come in handy if he could get enough momentum up but without light to see the state of the hinges and latch he might just be wasting energy he could use to fight later. "Hurry up Sam…" he sighed and lurched at the door, Reserves? To hell with reserves! I want out! but it was no use. The door wasn't going to budge without some help. Oooh! he thought feeling around in his pockets. His hand caressed the smooth casing of his latest lighter and he grinned to himself opening it and striking the wheel with a satisfied smirk.

The little yellow flame nearly blinded him with its brightness and he realized just how pitch the dark was in this horrible place. He raised his arm above his head to throw as much light as possible into his cell and took in his surroundings. Light fell on the door, hard wood with old fashioned iron clamps and hinges, other than that, featureless, he noted. Okay that means there's a drop style or slide type lock, probably iron. If I keep battering at the door maybe I can pop the bolts out… yeah' cause I'm freaking hercules, keep dreaming Dean… It's a fair distance to the car, just hold on, Sammy'll be back… why didn't we bring one of the guns with us? Oh yeah… because there wasn't supposed to be anyone here! Why is it here instead of hanging around Carol? he wondered and turned to his left to get the measure of his cell before he wasted all his lighter fluid.

His peripheral vision was good despite the gloom but inertia and elementary laws of physics kept him moving until he came nose to nose with a pale gray face framed by a quintessential 80's mullet. No matter how fast his reactions might have been in any circumstances, there was no way they could've been fast enough here. The face before him leered suggestively for a split second before puckering up and literally sliding through Dean's face and deep into his skull. He felt, rather than heard himself scream.

Icy burning flew through his shocked expression and deep into his head even as he shook it back and forth and did his best to slap away his incorporeal assailant while backing away and finding himself slammed into a corner, pinned by the layers of things that exploded into happening on top of one another. He had one more coherent thought before the burst of laughter in his mind blocked everything out temporarily. Hurry up Sam…

--

Sam climbed down from the loft and did one last quick pass-through of the dilapidated barn before heading out across the yard and down into the cellar where he knew Dean had entered the house.

"Dean?" he called shining his flashlight around the dim room. Damn cold… where the hell did he go? he wondered sweeping the walls a little more slowly. He could see areas where the bricks had either fallen or been pulled out of the dirt, where plant roots waved at him on his right. To his left and dead ahead the walls were lined with shelves that appeared to have been built into the structure. The stairs leading up into the house proper were in front of him in the right hand corner and the area behind him was exactly like the wall to his right, loose brick and barely seeming to hold together.

Okay… he's probably upstairs Sam decided, and moved through the cellar to the stairs that would take him into the farmhouse kitchen. At the top of the stairs he felt his hackles rise up and turned quickly, the flashlight in his bad hand and the iron baton gripped just so in his left, ready to swing. His brows furrowed but he sighed relieved when he saw nothing behind him, I think I'd give just about anything to hear Dean laying out one of his famous play by play's of some female conquest right now… Maybe… he pulled his cell and dialed Dean hoping that since he wasn't in the cellar that somehow he might be able to get a signal or at least a ring then he would know Sam was looking for him and would make his location known.

"No signal" the display read as Sam hit end and stuck the device back into his pocket. He felt tension creeping along his shoulders and into the back of his neck, he didn't want to be here, he'd been following Dean's crazy 'morbid fascination' and now he was starting to feel something in the pit of his belly. He just hoped he didn't wind up having any visions of what this sick pervert did to the kids he'd taken. After reading Karen Adams' testimony he didn't think he could bear a visual to go with the images his own imagination dredged up. Why would Dean have ever researched psychopaths? he thought shaking his head, something isn't right, this whole case has got him crazier than usual, it's gotta be the kid angle… "…your dad says he took you to Sasquahana… kinda the last thing he remembers…" Caleb said softly and sat on the tree-trunk bench next to Dean as Sammy played with the coolest Radio Controlled car ever! This one did flips and spins and stuff and Sam was glad Dean was letting him have a fair turn at it.

"Uh huh," Dean grunted, his eyes never leaving Sam as he kicked up pale clouds of dust in the dry heat.

"You know the nexus he took you too was one of the last uncorrupted ones in the area, that's why he took you there… he was trying to shield you from those things…" Caleb continued.

"I know," Dean nodded easily, their friends explained to him how John had been infiltrated, and the Foenwyn had discovered Dean's existence before he was aware of their presence. John had known Dean could survive on his own but with Sam thrown into the mix, and the fear he knew his boy would feel he couldn't be sure Dean would be able to act rationally enough for them both, so he'd relieved Dean of the onus of his younger brother until the situation could be dealt with, and the enemy entities eradicated.

The memory came unbidden to Sam as he stood at the foot of the stairs that would take him to the second story of the house, he felt a pressure in his chest and his throat tightened just a little more than it already was. He could see thirteen year old Dean sitting on the bench, his right forefinger in a splint, his eyes barely blinking as he kept them on him while he played. Yeah, that was a hard summer, he was like a giant shadow, Sam smiled shaking his head, he used to complain about me following him around all the time but that year, I remember, it was like he couldn't stand to be alone, like he wouldn't leave me alone… was he like that before then? I don't think so, but considering we almost died… he would've been alone, he barely noticed his own feet carrying him up the stairs as he pondered if that was the summer Dean's fear of abandonment came into full bloom. I mean he was always uber protective, it was his job… dad made sure he never forgot that, but… he stopped, his mind flashing back to another day, not much later that summer when Sam was outside with Grindle, Caleb's German Shepard and Dean had come flying out of the house, his face twisted with fury, and now that he thought about it, something that almost looked like fear as well. He'd leaped down the front steps, startling the horse of a dog halfway across the yard as he turned back to face the front door where Caleb, Shep and Dad stood staring in disbelief. Bobby had already gone home to Nebraska by then.

"I already said I get it so get the hell off my back! I forgive you! Alright? Is that what you want to hear? Fine! Now quit with the God damned questions, leave me the hell alone and just drop it!" Dean had yelled, his voice cracking and twisting as it came out and slapped the grown-ups fiercely.

Sam remembered that if he hadn't been a little scared of the hot fury that even he could feel rolling off his brother he might have chuckled at the funny cracking and squeaking that foretold his voice changing.

"Dean!" John had hollered breaking away from the restraining hands of his friends and followed his eldest boy almost to the edge of the little lake. Their voices were inaudible from that distance but even Sam could see that there was some very heated 'discussing' going on. Caleb and Shep joined him on the lawn and all three of them watched as Dean stood leaning toward John, his whole teenage body rigid with tension as he stuck his finger into their dad's face, curled his hand into a fist, said one more thing then stormed away to the far side of the lake where he disappeared into the reeds.

"What'sa matter with Dean?" Sam had asked the grown ups nervously as John, his body in almost exactly the same posture as Dean's had been moved stiltedly back to them, his eyes downcast.

"Dunno kiddo…" Shep said ruffling his hair and followed John back inside with an admonishment, "Stay by the front door Sam, least till your brother gets back or supper, whichever comes first," before the screen door slammed.

"Okay," Sam nodded and called Grindle back to him while picking up a good sized stick and waving it enticingly for the dog.

"Yeah, rough summer," Sam sighed shaking himself out of the memories and frowning as he peered out of the window at the top of the stairs. He had a wonderful view of the entire yard, from the garage, to the barn, to the back of the house itself, and several smaller outbuilding remnants. "Dean!" he hollered as loud as his tortured throat would allow and cocked his head listening intensely for any kind of response, "Well he sure isn't in the house…" his belly flipped, "…unless he's in trouble…Dean!" he shouted again and moved cautiously and quickly from room to room, a nice methodical search of the premises just like he and his brother always did. He checked closets, found the access to the attic and climbed up with equal caution, swinging his flashlight along each joint and wall before ascending all the way into the room and making sure his big brother wasn't laying hurt or even dead somewhere among the rafters. This bastard's crafty, and cruel… probably moreso than he was even in life… Death sure hasn't slowed it down, but why or how would it know to be back here? Answer: it wouldn't, not as long as it has Carol to torment, just then he heard Dean's voice in his head from the other night,

"…it leaves her be long enough to recover… likes to do what it does in private…not much difference between the mental processes of a pissed off vengeful spirit and a psychopath…"

A lightbulb seemed to pop on inside Sam's conscious mind and he exhaled sharply while hanging and shaking his head, "He's been up against something like this before…"

"Shhh… he'll hear you…" a tiny voice whispered behind him, sending him spinning in place with his iron baton raised above his head as his light passed through the visage of a little girl in dirty white shorts and a tattered pink t-shirt. She shifted from foot to foot, her filthy gray face downcast as she drifted backwards, away from Sam.

"Wait!" he called lowering the baton, "…wait please… have you seen anyone else here? My brother…"

She shook her head quickly, her eyes flitting from the floor of the attic to Sam's face, "…You brought him back."

"Who? Edward Jacob Simons?" Sam asked.

The ghost of the little girl nodded sheepishly and seemed to skip a bit through either time or space, Sam had never really been to sure on which one it was, Unless it's both… he thought fleetingly.

"Have you seen another man here? One like me maybe? Just a little bit shorter… he came in through the cellar…" Sam asked and noted the rapid flicker of her image as she looked from him back over her shoulder. "You've seen him?" he asked again, fairly certain of it.

She nodded wordlessly, little dirty and tattered blonde pig tails waving beside her face.

"Tell me...?" he almost choked on the words, "…where is he?"

She looked up and tilted her head to the side sadness obvious in its staining of her ghostly features, "…he's gone now…"

Sam gasped sharply then reminded himself ghosts don't think like the living, "What do you mean gone?" he asked feeling his heart pounding and his pulse beating in his throat.

"He's not here anymore…" she nearly whispered.

"Wh..where is he? Please…" Sam pleaded feeling his eyes begin to fill.

The apparition before him seemed to sigh, as if she shouldn't have to tell him, as if he should know, she leaned forward and looked over her left shoulder then over her right as if she was afraid of being overheard. Sam leaned in wanting to grab her and shake Dean's location from her, unfortunately he knew that wouldn't do any good,

"He's in HHHHEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLL!" she shrieked, the terror in her voice unmistakable as her visage burst into tears first, then apart, and swirled away through the floorboards.

--

In his subterranean cell a faint call rolled through the air from some unknown origin and though Dean was too preoccupied to hear it, or to take any comfort in the sound of his brothers voice, there was another present who heard the call and grinned, "Ahhh the sweet one… how tasty a treat for me…" it moaned wrapping one ice-cold, semi-corporeal arm around Dean's shoulders, pressing his head to his chest while his other hand slid into the front of his jacket and sank deep into his shirt, freezing the bare skin beneath and momentarily bringing Dean back to his senses, before it laughed and swirled away, smiling obscenely with its new mission. Dean barked out and pushed, startled and pained as he forced himself back into the corner of the cell in an almost purely reflexive way while he tried to sort out everything that was happening inside his mind; the voices, the faces, the terrifying moments in time that he was remembering for those who had gone before.

--

The eldest Winchester clutched his head in his hands, the voices and images were finally slowing down and his chest felt on fire for some reason. This is worse than the concussion, he thought and groaned as his heart leaped in his burning chest, "Dean!" he heard the unmistakable timbre of Sam's voice call to him through the morass of agonies he'd been accosted with, behind that impossibly heavy scraping sound "Dean help me!"

"Sam! Sammy!" he called shoving himself hard to his feet and pressing his eyes to the small cut in the door as he saw his little brother dragged by an unseen force into the center of the pit where he was thrown face first onto the ground and held immobile somehow while each of his limbs was outstretched and secured to the chains attached to a single stake.

"Sammy! Fight!" he called feeling his voice cracking in his throat.

"Nnngg… trying… can't…pinned…" Sam grunted while Dean saw him struggle against the chains that remained.

Sam's head swung around and managed to find Dean's eyes in the tiny slit in the door, he held onto those eyes and heard his big brother pounding, slamming, the door to his cell, trying anything he could to break free and save his Sam.

"Sammy…" Dean groaned as the back of his brothers' jacket was shredded wide, the hoodie following quickly and somehow, as if out of the very ether that was the ghostly plane of existence, a chain like the kind that kids used to use to secure their bikes to racks materialized in mid strike, the links lashing down with incredible force as one end wrapped around Sam's torso and literally jerked him almost completely onto his side as it whipped upward, preparing for another strike.

Dean felt every fiber of his being focus on smashing the door, breaking it off its hinges, popping the bolts, anything he had to do to get to Sam before another lash fell.

Sam's cry through gritted teeth and subsequent series of gasps struck him like a hot iron and he grimaced as something came across the room and shoved itself into Sam's mouth and the chain raised up again. He felt Sam's eyes grip his through the slit and he couldn't move, he couldn't abandon his brother, those eyes holding on were the only connection he had right now, the only strength and Dean willed Sam all that he would need as the chain ripped through the air, grabbing his torso along a parallel path as the first strike and once more jerking him onto his side.

Fabric ripped, or maybe it was skin, either way, the side of Sam's shirt turned red quickly and Dean felt his throat turn raw as he watched the chain raise up again and yelled with everything he had, "NNNNOOOO!"

His eyes on Sam's he felt his face turn wet as his baby brother grunted, turned his head, and let a sob slide out.

8… soon… please.

Need to know same as previous.

Thanks

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