Reprisals chpt 9

He laughed stepping out of the young man on the floor. Joy tickled him while he watched the oldest brothers eyes grow wide, and his smile broadened in anticipation of what was to come. He'd shown him the children one by one, fed him on the delight he took the first time he felt real power. He was fourteen, his sister was eight. He remembered the masterful feeling he had as he pinned her down, his hand clasping over her mouth, the glassy fear and salty tears he tasted on her cheeks as he grasped her pants and pulled them down with his free hand.

But most of all he remembered the encompassing satisfaction when he was done and she was ruined, unmade as a person and re-forged by him, a vacuous mask of defeat. For eight years he kept her on his leash even as he added more pets to his personal zoo, and when she had nothing left for him to take, he scraped her from his shoe and left her to rot.

Eddy Jay knew he'd be able to get inside the older brother, but the young one was a different story, the young one could throw everything off. He'd tried back in Missouri when they first came to the house, to get into the young one's head but he hadn't been able to. The older one would've made for some wonderful chuckles, suffering at the hands of the baby brother, but it was not to be. Still his end goal could be achieved through decimation of the elder, floodgates would open around the baby and with his defenses down havoc could then be wrought. I have all the time in the world to make my case...and now, with the elder in my grasp I will be measured well he assured himself and felt a warm wind at his ethereal side. They were back. Nodding and grinning as he watched the elder fight a battle he would surely lose, he went off to chase away those who tormented him and would spoil his fun if given a chance.

--

nine hundred eighty-seven pictures, sixty one different faces, twelve burned… nine hundred eighty-seven pictures, sixty one different faces, twelve burned…nine hundred eighty-seven pictures, sixty one different faces, twelve burned… never, Never, NEVER…three types of wrong…everyone else is fair game… NEVER… Aaron Mitchell Beyers, Edward Jacob Simons, John Wayne Gacy… '…each time he falls he shall rise again and woe to the wicked!...', salt and burn…I have to get Sammy out of here, but I can't do that…

He groaned and clutched his head finally feeling alone inside once more and immeasurably grateful for it. So much slid into place as he examined the image in his head, he knew why Eddy Jay was here, he knew Carol Guinardi/Karen Adams was dead. His hands burned as if he'd been the one severing her neck with the cord from her monitor. He felt the jets of hot arterial blood splash across his face and smiled while bathing in its warmth.

Ooh God please… I gotta get us out of here…I'm scared…please let me get us out of here! At least let me get Sammy out…please…he prayed revolted by the pleasure he took in watching the light fade from the woman's eyes. He knew the pleasure did not originate within himself but that he could feel it made his fingers shake.

He didn't know where Eddy Jay was, and he didn't care as long as it wasn't inside him, trying to violate his mind, or hurting Sam. Dean's body shuddered and he felt around for the ring. Once he had a grip on it, he rose to his knees and though his agonized hands screamed in protest began to hammer at the wood just above the lower iron brace, each time an image of one of Edward's atrocities flashed in his mind he hammered just a little harder. His hands grew slick first and then sticky as the blisters on them burst but the pain was nothing he couldn't handle. He had a job to do and nothing was going to stop him.

--

Sam felt his mouth tilt and this time it didn't even hurt. His fingers twined through strands of silk while gossamer caressed his lips. She held his head in her hands, her own fingers in his hair as her thumbs traced his jaw line. He groaned from the pit of his belly, feeling those sparklers ignite inside his body and mind as she took his bottom lip between hers and gave a playful tug before tasting him more deeply.

Dark cottony softness enveloped him and he felt himself fall within her arms. Her warmth pressed against him in all the right places as she laid him down gently on the ground beneath Metallicar's rear bumper, he didn't really mind. He wouldn't mind anything if that kiss could just keep going on. He felt warm wind blow into his ear as her teeth playfully nipped his lobe. He broke into happy little goosebumps with that teasing breeze and shuddered as she spoke.

"Dean!" he barked as sharply as his wounded body would allow, the only reason he knew his eyes were open was because he'd felt them snap open.

"Sam? Sammy! Are you okay?" Dean called feeling his heart race against his rib cage.

"Uh… not really but… enough… where is it?" he asked slowly forcing himself onto all fours, each movement a tiny slice of personal hell.

"Oooh man! You don't know how glad I am to hear your voice!" Dean grinned and almost allowed himself to think they just might get out of this somehow.

"I don't know… it took off… it sensed something, something it didn't like being around…" he called realizing he knew a lot more about Eddy Jay than he thought.

His mouth twisted coldly as he continued hammering at the brace, almost able to slide the ring anchor behind it and maybe pry it loose.

"That would probably be the other spirits…"

"Other spirits?" Dean asked.

"At least one that I saw… a little girl… I'd guess there are more of them…"

"What his victims?" Dean asked and felt the arrow point of the anchor lodge behind the band. "Ah ha!" he barked almost ready to leap out of his skin with the shaft of hope that sliced through the darkness inside his mind.

"I think so… aha what?" Sam asked resting on his heels with his hands on his knees, trying to choke back a cough he feared would send him back onto his face.

"Do you think they can… or will help us?" Dean asked frowning as the skin scraped off his knuckles against the wood while he shimmied the ring back and forth, working everything he had to try and lever that band off.

"Doubt it… they're still terrified…"

"They're dead!"

"Yeah… he killed them…remember? Dean, this thing's powerful…"

"Heh, tell me about it…"

"What?"

"I said I know…"

"How do we…?" Sam started to ask, his voice flat.

"I've been thinking about that… how many exorcisms have we done?" Dean asked.

"Couple dozen…"

"How's that memory of yours workin?"

"Dean it almost killed us in the house when we tried to exorcise it…" Sam protested around a bit of lung that came into his mouth. He spat loosely and grabbed the wall uncertain if he was going fall or throw up. His stomach clenched in morse code and his mouth felt hot and metallic.

"I know but its not like we have a lot of choice here… It killed Carol, that's why it's focusing on us, that's why it's here instead of back in Missouri waiting for her to recover, she's dead and he did it…"

"What? How can you know that?" Sam asked, his skepticism obvious in his tone.

Dean stopped for a second and took a breath, No, Sam's got enough to worry about, not that he's going to worry about me but… we need to work together to do this…and it's not going to work if I tell him…that thing was...was… mind-frakkin' me.

"Older brother Sam… huh…? anyway, I just do…there's something…" he started and sighed, "It wants something…"

"Yeah, to torture us to death…" Sam groaned rolling forward as far as he could to try and take the pressure off his back. It also helped keep him from jarring too much as the blood flowed up into his mouth with its spongy little accompanying pieces.

"Sam?" Dean asked worriedly. Time was slipping away, he had no idea how long they'd been down there, no idea how bad his brother was, but by the sound of things on the other side of the pit, he wasn't going to last indefinitely without medical help.

A grunt of his own pain slid out as another layer of skin came off his hands but beneath the ring he could feel the brace bending or the wood giving… something was happening. He slid his forearm between the ring and the door and lay his weight on it, bearing down, as seconds ticked desperately by inside.

"Ye..yeah… t'sokay… Dean…" his voice trembled along with his breath, "…I don't think I can take being thrown around any more…"

Dean stopped, Sam's words ringing in his head, "Gaah…That good huh?" he breathed to himself and swallowed hard, Look at what you've done! You're killing your brother! This is all my fault… God Sammy I'm sorry… I'll get us out of here I swear…I swear to God I will.

"They need to be confined to be killed… there are limits even they must obey…" Sam heard in his head and forced himself to straighten up a bit as an idea began to flicker in orange neon in his head. That's what I was trying to remember! he smiled faintly.

"Yeah…listen…remember the phantom traveler?" Sam wheezed and lowered himself to his side on the floor. He couldn't even entertain the idea of standing right now.

"Yeah?" Dean asked and nearly fell onto his face as something, either the ring or the brace snapped. "Oh man… oh man please… a little luck here…" he gasped desperately not even feeling the shank of flattened iron within the muscle of his forearm until he realized it had snagged him. "Oh crap… oh damn…" he grunted feeling a stream of blood running over his left hand as he checked the wound by feel. "Oh man…"

"What? Dean? What's wrong?" Sam asked, his voice stronger and more clear so long as his body was at rest.

Dean gulped hard and slid his jacket off then felt around in his pockets for the bandana he kept. Thank God for the boy scouts… oh wait! I mean the Marines… never mind. he thought and began to chuckle as he worked a quick slip knot into the piece of cloth then carefully made sure to fold the flaps of skin together before cinching it snugly around and hoping it would be enough. Please don't let me have hit something important… course if I die here I can come back and help Sammy…so that might not be a bad thing, then I can kick that S.O.B.'s sadistic ass all over the astral plane! Yeah, that might not be so bad after all… His chuckles grew and began to roll uncontrollably from his chest as he leaned back for a minute, holding his forearm tightly and fought the torrent within.

"DEAN!" Sam shouted and began to cough.

"Aaah, yeah… aahh I kill me… eeh heh… yeah… okay… I think I'm done now…" Dean forced the giggles away. "Okay… the phantom traveler… what about it?" he asked.

"The ritual…" Sam breathed softly, his brows furrowing. He could feel it inside, there was something wrong with Dean, something more than the circumstances, something even more than the anger he was directing into himself for getting them here in the first place. There was pain he could feel at the edge of his senses, something old and deep and secret that was chewing his brother up in tiny increments. But still, there was more, something newer and fully engaged in battle with that old 'wrong', something that felt like silver in the darkness, shiny and brilliant and sharp. Sam let his head fall back, he couldn't think about it right now… he could barely spare the energy to begin to visualize the page in dad's journal that had the ritual printed in it.

"What the two-parter?" Dean asked, incredulous at first then remembering, the first part of the ritual, though making the spirit stronger would also make it manifest, "If it's corporeal we can kill it… okay, that'll work, but you're gonna have to hold on Sammy… you're gonna have to give me a …" he leaned back onto his elbows and kicked at the door with all his might. He felt the wood vibrate, felt it quake on its upper hinge and if Sam had been in the same cell with him, he would've hugged him for as long as he could take it! "…chance…" he kicked again and felt it move even more freely, "…to get…" again, "… this freakin' door down…" he kicked again and fell back breathless.

"…'kay…" Sam groaned and let himself rest, his mind drifting as the rhythm of Dean's kicking seemed to lull him.

"Sammy! stay with me here! Come on little brother stay with me!" Dean urged feeling his heart sink with Sam's fading voice.

"…seven pictures…sixty-one different faces…twelve burned…" he heard and felt his blood run cold.

"Sam! Sammy! What are you saying?" he demanded.

Sam sighed, letting his pains slip way while he floated in semi-consciousness, "nine hundred eighty-seven pictures, sixty one different faces, twelve…" he muttered.

"Stop it! Don't you say that! You hear me Sam! Don't you say that!" Dean hollered furiously and kicked frantically at the door, his determination renewed. Sam should never know those numbers, no one should ever know those numbers besides him.

"Hmm? Wha?..." Sam groaned returning from his half state.

"The ritual Sam… think about the ritual do you remember it?" Dean re-directed his little brothers' thoughts.

"Hmmm? Uh… okay… I think I got it all… just lemme go over it a couple times in my head alright?"

"Fine, you do that," Dean nodded and muttered to himself, "…just don't ever say those numbers again…"

It was impossible to say how much longer they sat there, each man working on his own project before the sound of metal wrenching and wood screaming rent the black around them and exhausted as he was Dean could not scramble out of the way fast enough so lay flat on his back with his arms up just as the impossibly heavy door fell onto him, swinging on the top hinge so the opposite corner slammed hard into his hip bone enough to make him "Ghuuuaaah!" in pain.

His body shook with relief and he thought he could feel the giggles wanting to set in again as he moved forward almost unwilling to believe he'd finally won freedom.

"Sam! Sammy wake up!" he called stepping out into the open area of the pit and spinning the wheel of his lighter once more. To the right lay his gun, exactly where he'd lost it when Eddy Jay 'jumped' him. "Oh baby! There you are!" he grinned sliding the cool comforting steel into the back of his jeans only to yelp as the skin tore back there too.

"I am so gonna KILL you!" he hollered and tucked the gun into his jacket pocket instead and quickly found the only other closed cell door. The latch was a slide across type and with the simple flick of his wrist he opened the door. Sam lay on his side, his eyes closed, the floor around him red as the remnants of his shirt but the last thing Dean could bring himself to do was to step into the cell.

"Sammy! Come on… come on little brother…" he urged reaching in as Sam awoke and looked at him, his good hand reaching for Dean's just as the lighter died and the sound of rolling thunder cascaded through the pit, bouncing off the walls.

Dean felt fingers in his hand, as the dirt and salt burned shockwaves up his arm and into his brain. He could feel Sam rise to his knees and wobble to his feet. He stumbled over the threshold and gave himself to Dean's steady embrace as that shearing heaviness called from down the corridor and once more the faintest light returned their sight.

"Dean…" Sam gasped, his one good hand and bad arm clutching at his brothers shoulders as his eyes sought the strength he was always so willing to give. What he saw brought the shivers to him as he grimaced and pushed himself away landing hard on the floor, no longer caring. If this could be, then it was probable that all hope was lost. Without Dean, he knew he couldn't do it alone.

"Nuh…" he shook his head back pedaling in the dirt.

"Do it… remember… no deaders though…" whispered the somehow more solid form of Eddy Jay.

"No deaders…" Dean nodded cocking a half smile Sam knew well. His eyes never left Sam as he raised the gun, sighting along the barrel, pointing to various places on his brother's body where non-lethal shots could be fired, and which ones would cause the most pain

"Dean… you gotta fight him..." Sam's voice caught in his throat.

His big brother sneered and loosed a chuckle, "Why?"

---

Special props to Beist and Kat... once more their encouragement served to encourage me to stick this up tonight cause well they said so.

Still and all... I feel like this one has faltered a bit, like it's not quite as 'stand on its own' as the others y'know?

Soo... help, please.

Thanks

sifi