The Countless Hours

A loud screech of metal-on-metal woke Sam from his restless sleep. Light flooded his vision, forcing him to screw his eyes shut. Something slid across the hard floor followed by a faint rolling noise and with another screech, the light vanished. Sam opened his eyes again and blinked away the red spots. Not an inch from where his head lay, John stirred. Sam reached out. The woman was still there.

"Cas?" he murmured.

"Here," came the deep reply just behind Sam.

The pit in Sam's stomach eased. Everyone was here. They survived their first night . . . or at least their first sleep. Time was impossible to keep track of in this place.

Slowly sliding his fingers across the floor, Sam gingerly reached for the thing that had emerged from the light. It was cool and smooth to the touch. Skimming its edges, Sam felt that it was only a few centimeters tall and rectangular.

"Watson," Sam said. "Are you awake?"

"Kind of impossible not to be after all that noise," grumbled the army doctor, followed by the rustle of movement.

"Shine the light over here."

More rustling then a click as the keychain-light sprang to life. A huge, yawning shadow appeared and stretched all the way to the other side of the small prison where the door had opened. Sam leaned out of the beam. Before him was a plastic tray holding two rolls of bread, three sausage links, and a few cheese squares. Not too far from the tray were two bottles of water. Sam moved the tray and waters to the center of the circle the four made. "Well," he said, "at least they're feeding us."

While John tried to rouse the blond woman again, Sam divided up the food as best as he could. "None for me," Cas said when Sam handed him his share.

"Why not?" Sam said, more insisting than questioning.

Cas glanced at John. "Not hungry."

"You have to eat," John said, momentarily turning from the woman. "It's been at least hours since you've last eaten. It's bad enough you took a whole watch instead of letting us take shifts. You need your strength."

"Yeah, Cas," Sam deadpanned pointedly. "Eat up." Before he gets suspicious.

" . . . . . Alright."

With the flashlight sitting face-up in the middle, the three men ate in silence, passing around one water bottle and saving the other, just in case. The largest portion was set aside for when the woman woke up. Every so often John and Sam would give her a gentle shake, to no avail.

"No sign of fever," John remarked. "And she mumbled earlier so I don't think it's a concussion, but I can't be sure."

"What I'd like to know is how we got here," said Sam, "or why for that matter."

"Who? What? Where? Why? How?" Cas grumbled. "Excellent questions with no answers."

"Inspiring as always, Castiel."

"I try to be."

"Here's what we know," John began, gesturing with the make-shift mini hotdog in his hand. "This is a kidnapping. We are in a stationary metal room with no openings except for those vents—" he pointed up "—and that door." He pointed straight ahead. "There are people outside this room, and they want us alive."

"For now," Cas said.

"For now," John agreed. "We have no weapons, no means to defend ourselves except for brute force, but in our state that's not saying much. What else?"

After a moment's thought, Sam snapped his fingers. "We have a flashlight—" he dug out one pocket "—some gum—" he dug out the other pocket "—a paperclip—" he dug out his back pockets "—and a wallet with a credit card, twenty-two cents, and—" Sam pulled out a card and frowned. "—a punch-card to Pudding & Pie? What the hell? I've never been to—" Realization dawned on his face. "Why do I have Dean's wallet?!"

"Who's Dean?"

"Does this pose a problem?" Cas asked.

Sam tucked the card back into its holder with a huff. "Not really. Oh, and Dean is my older brother."

John pointed a finger at him. "That's another thing. We have people on the outside."

"Yes, and they want us alive," said Cas. "You already covered that."

"No, I mean we have people outside the outside. At least two people who would notice our disappearances and do something about it."

"Who do you have?" Sam asked, curious.

"A friend," he replied. "One with a knack for finding lost things."

"Great! We just have to last long enough for them to get here." Sam sighed. "Hopefully that shouldn't be too hard since, as you said, they want us alive."

"For now," Cas said.

"For now," Sam agreed. "I say we stick to what we planned: stay within arm's reach at all times when we don't have the flashlight on, sleep in shifts, and conserve like crazy. Obviously we're all we've got at the moment, so if we work together we can get out of this."

The next several hours were spent in relative quiet. Imminent danger lurked just outside the confines of their prison and yet for the time being, frustration and boredom were their greatest enemies. As a result, the captives went back to sleeping in shifts to conserve their strength and prevent worsening their injuries. John took the first watch before Cas could offer to take it. Cas wasn't too pleased; he shifted and squirmed in his spot on the floor, too uncomfortable to feign sleep. The light was turned off to preserve the battery.

To keep his muscles limber against all the inactivity, Sam did light exercises a short distance from his sleeping companions during his shifts. He took extra care to favor his sprained wrist, which Watson had expertly bound with the sleeve torn off Sam's shirt. The movement helped ease his restlessness.

For the longest time, the only sound in the cell was Sam's gentle grunts as he did sit-ups in the dark. Just as he was about to hit forty, Sam heard a small noise. He froze.

". . . Nnh . . ."

Sam rolled silently onto his knees and crawled forward. Two steps and his hands brushed against unmistakably familiar fabric. He grabbed hold and shook it.

"Cas, what was that?"

"Mhrm?" Cas grunted.

"Were you seriously asleep?"

"Of course not," the angel grumbled. "Don't be ridiculous. What is it?"

"There was a noise just now. What was it?"

The pair fell silent, listening intently. They sat there for a while until Cas said, "I don't hear any—"

" . . . Nnh . . ."

Sam felt Cas sit up quickly. "It's the woman," he said. "Wake the doctor."

While Cas moved to the woman's side, Sam searched blindly for Watson's sleeping body, cursing for not having thought to take the light from him before starting his shift. New rule, then, Sam thought.

John woke easily enough, and was up like a rocket when he heard Cas say: "She's waking! Turn the light on!"

Within moments the flashlight was on and all three men were crouched at her side. The woman's dark eyebrows bunched together and she groaned. Very slowly her eyes opened, only to immediately squeeze shut again.

"Too bright!" she moaned.

"Oops, sorry." John moved the light out of her face.

The woman's eyes blinked open again. She was immediately greeted by the oh-so-comforting sight of three unfamiliar, disheveled men staring down at her from inky darkness with nothing to illuminate their hollowed faces except a harsh, white light. To her credit, she didn't scream. Probably because her brain was too shocked to order air to her vocal chords.

Very slowly, cautious not to disturb her throbbing head, she sat up only to find more darkness ahead.

"Where am I?" she asked dazedly.

"We don't know," Sam replied. "We all woke up in here a while ago."

"How do you feel?" John asked.

"I feel like I just woke up from drinking an entire pub to a strange room with even stranger men, but other than that, just peachy. Who are you anyway?"

"Sam Winchester."

"John Watson."

"Castiel . . ." The angel trailed off into awkward silence.

The woman cleared her throat and said, "Rose Tyler. It's a pleasure . . . sort of."

"We have already established that this is a kidnapping," said Cas, "and that they want us alive."

"For now," John and Sam said.

"For now," Cas agreed. "That's the extent of our knowledge. If you have any idea as to who did this or why we were kidnapped, please share."

Rose looked down at her lap for a few moments, brow furrowed a bit, then replied, "No. Sorry, I can't remember much before I got hit."

Sam rocked back on his heels with a sigh. "So that's it then," he huffed. "Welcome aboard, Rose Tyler."

Cas glanced from Sam to Rose and back. "I'm sorry," he said. "That was a reference to the phrase 'being on the same boat', correct?"

John dropped his head. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. Rose wondered if Cas was for real or not. John's head popped back up. "Hold on. You said you were hit," he said. "Then you woke up here?"

"That's right. Why?"

"I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner. What happened right before you were hit? Where were you? What were you doing?"

Rose took a deep breath and closed her eyes, pressing her fingers to her lips. John stood the flashlight up in the center of their little circle. Just enough light was cast to illuminate their faces. Cas, John, and Sam waited patiently as Rose collected her thoughts. After several moments, she opened her eyes and said, "I can't recall all of the little details, but I do know that I was at an amusement park with a friend. He left to do something and while he was gone, I wandered into one of the tents. Next thing I knew, this . . . thing flew in out of nowhere and knocked me out."

"I see," John said just as Cas growled, "She's lying."

"What?" said Sam and John.

Rose's jaw dropped. "I am not!" she exclaimed.

"You're only telling part of the truth. Don't try to deny it—I know when I'm being lied to."

"Is he right?" John asked the blond. "I need you to be honest with us. This could shed a little light on whatever's going on here."

"You can trust us," Sam added.

Rose studied their faces, especially Sam's. While Castiel's eyes were grim and serious and John's were piercing, Sam's eyes were open, friendly. The truth was there on the tip of her tongue but still she hesitated to share.

Biting her lip, Rose exhaled sharply through the nose, smiled ruefully, and muttered, "You probably wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

Sam smirked. "Try me."

Rose turned back to him, brow furrowed at his dry amusement. She glanced at the others. John folded his arms across his chest and waited. Castiel was completely still. She sighed. "Oh, all right," she said. "But first, have you got anything to eat? I'm starving."

After she wolfed down what remained of the group's meager meal, Rose said, "You see, my friend and I . . . we're . . . travelers and sometimes one our travels, we . . . help people . . . and people that aren't exactly 'people,' in the human respect."

"Meaning?"

"What I mean is we . . . we travel through time and space and sometimes have to stop the occasional evil extraterrestrial. Now I know what you're thinking," she held up a hand at their disbelieving faces, "it sounds crazy. If it wasn't important to the story, I wouldn't've told you in the first place.

"Three weeks ago," she said, "there were strange things reported at an old amusement park. Weird noises from tents that were completely empty, technology shutting off within a fixed radius around certain rides. We snuck in in the middle of the night to investigate. While my friend went to check out the rides, I heard a noise from one of the tents. I went inside and, er, found what was causing the weirdness."

"You mean the aliens?" Cas asked.

"They're called the Yllri," she said. "Really ugly blokes about this big—most of it is taken up by their head—a sickly orange color, covered in a thin coating of grey slime, skin like a rubber snake, itty-bitty clawed mitts, and—"

"We get it," Sam interjected. "It was really ugly."

"It was dead," said Rose. "By the look of it, had been for a few days. Before I could get a chance to get a good look, there was a creak behind me and when I turned around, this thing flew out of the darkness and whacked me on the head! When I woke up . . ." She gestured to the guys. ". . . well, here we are."

No one said a word as the three men tried to process Rose's story. Castiel, as a soldier in heaven's army, had never bothered with whatever lies outside earth's atmosphere: if there was life in the deeper recesses of space, he didn't know about it. Sam had only one experience with aliens on the job, but that turned out to be a bunch of evil faeries. And the only thing convincing John, man of rational science that he was with his all-too-real brushes with reality, that Rose Tyler wasn't insane was his past experience with complete psychopaths (and one high-functioning sociopath). He knew crazy, and she wasn't it.

"So wait," Sam finally said, "does that mean that the crap that happened in New York and England actually happened?!"

Rose nodded.

"Were you and your friend involved?"

"We didn't start or end the attacks, if that's what you're asking, but yes, we were involved. But that's a whole other story, not worth getting into now."

John covered his face in his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose with his two forefingers. "Let's say I believe you," he said. "How do you know this . . . this . . ."

"Yllri."

"How do you know it was the cause of all the noises and technological malfunctions?"

"Yllri are a strange bunch," explained Rose. "The slime coating their bodies gives off a bizarre frequency, sort of like an electrical charge but not really. If it smears up against something or drips on the floor, the slime continuously gives off the charge, driving technology ballistic until it shuts off completely. It also has a weird effect on humans; often it makes them paranoid and causes them to hear or see things that aren't there, but prolonged exposure will bring out weird sides to a person. Lucky us the goop wasn't around long enough to get that far."

The inside of Sam's mouth turned to ash. John shook his head and sat back. Cas held his chin, brooding blue eyes staring past the ground. "Could this strange creature be the reason why you were taken?" he asked her.

"Not possible," John interjected. "Otherwise we'd all have something to do with these . . ."

"Yllri," Cas filled for him.

"Yes, that. I don't know about you, but I had no such dealings with little green men—"

"Little orange men."

"—before I was taken." John gestured to Sam. "You're with me on this, right?"

Sam cleared his throat. "Well, actually, there's something I should tell you."

Three faces immediately turned to him in surprise. Sam rubbed his hands together, gently smoothing out the ache in his wrist. Things were starting to come back to him, things from that night that he hadn't really thought to think about until Rose brought the thought to his mind. Now he had no choice in the matter.

"Before I tell you about the night Cas and I were kidnapped," Sam began, "a little background. Since Rose was willing to open up about what she does, I think it's only fair that I'm completely honest, too." He huffed. "My brother and I? We hunt the supernatural."

"Oh, for the love of—!"

"Now hang on, Watson. I know this sounds crazy, but it's the truth. Ghosts, werewolves, vampires, that kind of thing? We've been hunting them since we were kids."

John turned to Cas and demanded, "What about you, eh? You a hunter, too?"

Cas shifted uncomfortably. "Not exactly, no. I'm an angel."

"Jesus Christ!"

"No, but I get that a lot."

Sam looked to Rose. Her face was stone; Sam was afraid for a second that she didn't believe him. Without changing her expression, Rose said calmly, "So it is true. Ghosts, spirits—they're all real."

Sam exhaled. "Yeah."

"Demons?"

"Yeah."

Rose sighed through the nose. "I was afraid as much."

John dragged his hands down his already-drawn face. "All right," he said barely above a whisper, "say I believe you, which is a very rough assumption considering I already had to go through accepting that aliens were real. Say I believe you—what happened?"

Images popped up in Sam's brain in a mad scramble that eventually sorted itself into a coherent timeline. Once the final piece fell into place, Sam took another deep breath, filling his lungs to the brim before letting it all escape in one long exhale. Ignoring the bitter taste rising to the back of his throat, Sam began his story.

"Because of our line of work, my brother Dean and I are pretty used to all things weird. You name it, we've probably been through it, literally and figuratively.

"But then a couple weeks back we got a phone call . . . ."

I know I say it in every chapter, but thank you so much to everyone who took the time to Follow/Favorite and Review this story. It warms the cockles of my heart . . . wherever I last put it. . . . .