Chapter 16
Dean worked to steady his breathing, taking in as much air as he possible could and exhaling slowly through his chattering teeth. It seemed an eternity since Myrah had left him, but the hellish torture her icy touch rendered was still ravaging his body. He was frigid, trembling as his body attempted to rid itself of the biting cold. Fresh tears beginning to fall as Myrah's last words came to him. He had failed, and Sam was to pay the price. More than that, there was nothing he could think of that would save his little brother—the last tangible remnant of true family he had. I could try actually getting up off the floor…
He moaned reluctantly as the thought hit him. Only because this wasn't a very pleasant thought. His sprawled form seemed to be under the impression it was glued to the floor and his brain had somehow managed a complete disconnect from the rest of him making it near impossible to move. The excruciating pain in his leg from Myrah's touch had faded leaving nothing but dull numbness replacing it and while Dean knew that wasn't a good sign, he thanked every saint and spiritual being he could think of for temporary relief
Dean gritted his teeth and dragged his heavy arms up above where his head lay. His arms burned as he pulled his elbows in towards him and worked to prop himself up on them. The simple act of doing so wore him out completely, and all his hard work amounted to void as his aching arms gave out on him and he met the floor once again. I can't do this…
"Can't isn't an excuse, You and I both know you're fully capable. So either do it or don't. There's no room for doubt when a situation demands action."
Dean licked his dry cracked lips as the words of his father entered his mind. He remembered the exact moment his father had uttered those words, and absolutely everything about that night. He was 12 and Sam a mere 8. A simple hunt turned horrible and Sam had born the brunt of it all because he couldn't get there in time. He'd doubted his abilities and had told his father, in a rather harsh tone, explicitly what he thought he could do and what he knew he couldn't. That night had ended with his father telling him that if he couldn't protect his little brother at all costs, then he wasn't cut out to be a big brother.
The memory had never been fond for Dean, until now--the sharp words of an angry man offering encouragement and resolve within him. He deserved to be Sam's older brother; he was the best and only man for the job. And that job demanded his all, everything, regardless of the sacrifice—intense and crippling pain included. I'm getting off this floor!
He moved slowly, carefully, and finally succeeded after many a try to raise his upper half more than 2 inches off the ground supporting himself on his elbows. Dean was so elated to have reached his desired position that the faint distant scream almost eluded his ears. Almost.
The sound sent his mind into a full-fledged panic. Was that Sam? Or Jessie? Oh, no…Myrah's got them…I have to hurry…have to get there in time…what if I don't make it? No, no…I'll make it. Hold on guys, I'm coming.
Dean bit down on his tongue hard, his raging adrenaline shadowing the pain accompanying every tiny movement and providing the energy to stand and move forward dragging his bad leg. The simple act of bending down to grab his gun proved harder and sent a shock wave of pain down his spine forcing him to double over. He fell forward but managed to send a hand out first and thus save himself from another nasty fall. The motion offered him an advantage as his hand was now on the floor and he quickly ran it against the wood floor toward his gun. He smirked when he felt the cool metal between his fingers. You are so dead, bitch.
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A stream of curses poured from Sam's mouth as the fiery metal pierced his flesh, the intense throbbing stemming from the upper part of his shoulder. It took a moment for him to realize that since he was indeed feeling the agonizing sting, he was very much alive. She missed? Oh, God, she didn't kill me…she missed.
He winced as he felt the warm blood began to flood his shirt and wished more than anything he could see the initial damage. Then again, maybe not.
"Oh, my God! Sam, Sam are you okay?" Jessie screamed hysterically as she watched the young man's shirt rapidly changing color as the blood seeped through the cotton. "What happened? What…" Jessie's body retched as she glanced down at the gun in her hand.
"Well, I must say…I'm disappointed in you, Jessie." Myrah stated. Her sickening laughter that followed encompassing the room.
"You made me do this!" Jessie yelled accusingly, whipping around to face down her enemy.
"Of course I did. Let's call it a little test. I had to know for certain I could make you obey. Next time, the boy won't be so lucky." Myrah's reply fused with pride and knowledge of her superiority.
"Like hell he won't! I have powers too you know! I can fight you!" Jessie was indignant. Not again. You're not getting me again.
"I gave you those powers and you're not strong enough to refuse me." Myrah replied sharply, anger dripping off of every word. Jessie shrunk back at the sound of Myrah's voice and moved closer to Sam shielding him once again. Tears threatened to fall as she heard his labored breathing and felt him jerk back at her touch. I'm sorry Sam.
"Let him go. Please, just take him off the wall. You don't have to let him leave, just let him down. Oh, God, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry." Jessie's words broke by sobs, guilt taking its hold on her.
"It's o-okay, J-Jessie. N-not your f-fault." Sam voiced weakly. He knew the battle Jessie was fighting all too well. He remembered Roosevelt all too vividly, he always would.
"I'll let him go, after you kill him. How's that sound?"
"I won't do it." Jessie screamed fiercely
"Yes, you will!" Myrah roared.
Sam could feel the wall vibrating beneath him as she spoke, jarring his shoulder and sending the searing pain rippling through him once again. In a way, he wanted it to all be over. It was one thing to not be able to see your death coming right at you, but an entirely different thing to be forced to listen to your impending demise over and over and simply waiting for it to occur. Sam's thoughts turned to his brother as the room regained it's former state of eerie silence. He can't find me like this…bleeding pinned up against a wall. Too close to mom…too close
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Jessie found herself aiming the gun at Sam once again. Myrah's steely voice coaxing her into submission.
Kill him Jessie.
Jessie felt as if there were two of her. The one on the inside crying out for her to stop and other, her outer self, complying to Myrah's commands without a word. She watched helplessly as her finger began squeezing the trigger and willed herself to fight hard.
Her heart skipped a beat as her fingers trembled against the metal and felt she was succeeding until the sickening sound of a fatal bullet leaving its chamber filled her ears and her eyes witnessed his body fall lifeless, landing with a thud on the hard wooden floor.
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okays now some of you may find the whole jessie/myrah thing repetitive well...trust me ok?and yes, i know this isnt my best work but considering my current situation at the moment--this is a major accomplishment---so because its 2 in the morning if you find any major plot holes or anything like that---please bring it to my attention aside from me ending on a cliffie--have to make you guys come back! Okay is anyone else really mad at the WB for not airing SN? God, i sure am...but hey, it's definetly making all us writers work on our fics so i guess that's a plus!