Chapter 7
The highway that earlier in the day had teemed with life, at the current hour remained relatively silent. Occasionally, the low hum of a vehicle would resound in the distance as it maneuvered through the bends and curves of the tar-black asphalt, casting rays of white light upon the dark roadside motel, the beams reflecting off the glass windows, all shaded save one.
It was there, behind the sheer barrier, the young dark-haired man sat peering out from behind the glass with every sudden flash of light that radiated through his realm of darkness. He rose from his seat, gun in hand, issuing the same intense, studying glance he'd had given with each past intrusion, his eyes roaming every inch of the paved lot through tainted panes, searching for the slightest change or shadow. Certain yet again his outside world yielded no threat at the moment, he rested in the chair once more, shifting his attention back to the last remnant of his endangered world he was determined to protect. The bright, blood red numbers on the old digital clock pierced the pitch-dark room meeting his watchful stare. 4:30. Just have a couple more hours.
Sam removed his glasses and ran his fingers in circles over his tired weary eyes, allowing his body to slump farther down in the hard wooden chair as he continued the movement. He yawned and rested his head on the back of the chair. The effects of the long day of research were starting to take its toll and Sam could hear sleep's beckoning, longing desperately to comply with its demand, but vehemently fought the urge to abandon his post.
His head throbbed mercilessly, the penalty of straining his weak eyes over periodicals and microfilms for hours on end. This was the first time in weeks Sam could remember cursing his damaged vision. The prescription glass and metal frame hindering his role as self-appointed protector.
The simple act of blinking quickly became a slow repetitive process. The heavy lids meeting each other, and barely managing to break apart, forming mere slits of sight. The sweet seductive voice of sleep rang out once more and Sam couldn't withstand any longer.
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The worn cabin stood abandoned, forgotten in the small clearing. The wooded slats glowing red as torrid flames licked and devoured them. Stark white ashes forged from their destruction rained down upon him, floating like paper to the muddy ground. A guttural scream reached his ears and in the next instant Sam found himself standing inside the inferno staring at the source from whence it came.
Another agonizing wail filled his ears as the writhing form before him twisted and contorted to escape the searing blaze ravaging it. The putrid smell of burned flesh infiltrated his senses and Sam's throat tightened, inhibiting his terrified scream, as the thick black smoke continued to build encompassing every other thing in sight, but never overcoming the body ablaze. The roar of the fire faded, and his ears were met with the sickening crackle of sinew and the hollow popping of bones. Sam shut his eyes and covered his ears, fighting to keep the grisly sounds at bay, willing himself to wake and escape to no avail. The static merely intensified, a voice ringing out above it. The single word spoken breaking through the cloud of blackness pouring repeatedly from the heaving, singed form. Sam.
The raging flames dissipated as a cool thick wind rushed in. All was silenced and Sam opened his eyes once more, gasping as he viewed the former body that now laid a charred skeleton, arrayed in clothing that remained unscathed—in perfect condition and all too familiar.
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Sam jolted awake, frantically slapping his hand over his mouth to stifle the chilling scream that threatened to escape. His eyes burned with tears as he turned stiffly to look over at Dean's bed. The empty bed. He was out of the seat in a second, lurching slightly as his stiff legs protested the sudden movement, yelling his brother's name at the top of his lungs. The door cracked behind him causing Sam to jump and shoulder his gun.
"Good morning to you too." Dean replied curtly, stepping out from the bathroom rubbing a towel over his damp hair.
"Where the hell have you been? It's four in the morning!" Sam screamed, his cheeks flushed with rage.
"In the shower, dumbass. And it's eight in the morning. You really gonna shoot me for that?" Dean laughed nervously at the sight of his little brother standing there with a gun loaded with rock salt pointed directly at him, remembering all to clearly how bad it'd hurt the last time.
"Maybe I should! Since you obviously ignored the fact that I've been losing my freakin' mind trying to protect you and just left without telling me!" Sam roared, but Dean did notice that he'd lowered the gun, of which he was truly grateful.
"I didn't leave, Sam. I was in the room. And I told you I don't need you to save me." Dean responded sternly, pulling on a clean T-shirt.
"And I told you that you do!" Sam bellowed, moving towards his brother cornering him between the wall and bed.
"Move, Sam." Dean commanded. "Now."
"And if I don't?" Sam questioned haughtily.
Dean bit his tongue, trying desperately to control his temper. He hated being cornered with no option of escape in sight. Not only that but his brother, his younger brother, was outright defying him, an act that was becoming more and more frequent as the days wore on. Dean locked eyes with Sam and for the first time really noticed the younger's face. Sam's complexion was pale and his face lined in frustration and worry, his eyes conveyed his current stage of rage, but there was something else behind them, something else entirely.
"What's going on, Sammy?" Dean asked slowly, true concern in his voice.
"You! That's what! You picked fire, you dumbass! You picked fire!" Sam's furious accusations soon morphed into bitter incoherent murmurs and Dean watched stunned as Sam turned his back to him and sunk down onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.
"Uh…what? Where did you get that idea, Sam?" Dean inquired settling down next to Sam on the bed.
"I'm the psychic freak remember? I saw it, Dean." Sam stated forcefully turning to face his brother. His dreams were becoming more and more accurate as time went and he knew with everything within him that what he saw was real or soon to be so.
"Oh."
"That's all you can say? Why the hell would you pick that, Dean?" Sam questioned pleadingly.
"I thought it was poignant." Dean offered with a shrug and a smile, neither of which pleased Sam in the least.
"Are you insane?" Sam was on his feet now, his tall frame rigid, as he glared down at Dean.
"Maybe. I'm not sure. Probably so though 'cause Dad dropped me once when I was lit—" Dean recalled, brushing past Sam in efforts to completely avoid further confrontation.
"DEAN!" Sam shouted cuttingDean off, grabbing his brother by the shoulder and whipping him around to face him.
"What do you want me to say Sam? Huh?" Dean shot back. Sam had succeeded in his attempt, he was officially irritated now.
"I want you to tell me why you would ever choose that, Dean. After Mom, and Dad's crusade, I don't understand." Sam's voice was nothing more than a whisper when he finished, and his eyes pools of tears.
"I don't expect you to." Dean replied shortly putting on his jacket.
"Where are you going?" Sam pressed, stepping in front of Dean yet again.
"To get food and coffee. Is that okay with you, Mom?" Sam clenched his jaw and eyed the car keys on the coffee table. Dean followed his brother's gaze and knowing where Sam's head was at, made a mad dash for the table. But Sam's legs were longer and he beat Dean to it, grinning widely as he clutched the precious keys in his hand.
"Give me the keys, Sammy!" Dean ordered, trying to get a hold of Sam's hand and pry the keys out.
"No way!" Sam yelled laughing, as he side stepped out of the way, tripping Dean in the process.
"You are dead, Sammy. So dead."
Dean picked himself off the floor and started towards Sam once again, but his brother was out of the motel room by the time he'd taken the first step. Dean stormed out of the room, and broke out into a dead run when he caught Sam sliding into the driver's seat of his Impala without prior consent.
"Before you hurt me—I would just like to point out that you have a mere 30-some-odd hours left on this planet and with your little brother who by the way thinks you are the greatest big brother ever." Sam feigned fear as his pushed himself against the driver's door and raised in hands in mock surrender.
"Oh, well, I was under the impression that my little brother was going to save me." Dean stated smugly, taking the passenger seat.
"He is." Sam said firmly, turning the keys in the ignition.
"Little Sammy has a plan?" Dean laughed
"Yep. I think I know where Kingston is hiding."
"Oh yeah? When did you figure that one out geek boy?"
"This morning. Research and vision, bro. I'm also a psychic wonder remember?"
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"Are you sure you know where you are going?" Dean asked watching the green blur of trees fly past the window as he had been for the past 2 hours.
"Yea. I think so. I mean, I saw the cabin, and when I was reading about Kingston the articles mentioned he'd owned one. And well, this is the only forested area right outside of town, so I figure it's our best bet." Sam gritted his teeth in reply, he had already told Dean that at least three times since they had headed toward the Clearwater State Park.
"So what am I supposed to be looking for again?"
"Uh…a small drive, maybe?"
"Well, that narrows it down doesn't it?" Dean scoffed, resting his head against the cool window.
"What about that clearing there?" Sam pointed off to the right and Dean craned his neck to see where he was pointing.
"Yeah…I think…yeah, there's a road there." Dean stated shifting nervously as Sam signaled and turned off the main road, guiding the Impala along the narrow gravel road.
"That's it. That's the cabin." Sam uttered slowly as the old structure came into view. He parked the car and headed for the trunk, Dean close behind.
"Got everything?" Dean asked just as Sam tossed a gun to him.
"Yeah. Let's go." Sam replied before reminding Dean for the twentieth time that they weren't to separate.
They searched the outside perimeter first as well as the surrounding forest up to a 50 yard distance. Satisfied that the exterior was clear, they entered the house, Dean taking the lead. Dean whistled at the thousands of pages that littered the wooden floorboards. Sam mirrored his reaction upon crossing the threshold and bent down rifling through a few. The names and dates penned on each immediately revealing what they were.
Sam caught Dean moving toward the back of the house and hurried to follow him. Every room in the cabin was the same, completely empty minus a sea of paper. The last and final room they came upon was different. Sam would almost describe it as organized. The pages still littered the floor, but there were spaces between the piles and the desk that occupied the center of the room contained stacks upon stacks of them. Dean made his way over to the desk, and began shuffling through the pages, scanning the dates, all of which were in April. Sam busied himself with the piles on the floor, stating that they too were divided by month.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" the deep throaty voice inquired. Dean and Sam both rapidly turned their attention to the door where a slim balding man was leaning casually against the jam.
"Kingston?" Sam asked, knowing full good and well that the man before them was. The man straightened up and walked over to his desk, his heavy footsteps resounding off the floor.
"Yea, that's me. But you already knew that." Kingston replied circling round the desk until he was face to face with his former pupil. "Dean Winchester, it's nice to see you again."
Dean's hazel eyes locked with Kingston's coal black ones. Before Dean could respond, he found himself being hurled across the room by an invisible hand and forced into the hallway. He heard Sam calling his name, but the slamming of the study door quickly silenced the sound of his voice, leaving only the dull thud of his angry fists hitting the wood. Kingston smirked at the closed door, then turned and slowly treaded down the hallway to the spot where Dean had landed.
"You know, Dean, fire is a very intriguing thing." Kingston croaked, reaching into his pants pockets and presenting a lighter, flicking it and producing the yellow-orange flame. "You were the only student I ever had that realized it's true potential for disaster. Did you know that?"
"You gonna light me up?" Dean taunted struggling to remove himself from the floor, but whatever force Kingston was using held him there.
"I always considered myself a fair teacher." Kingston replied, his hand held above the flickering flame "I could never deprive a student of their last 34 hours. Since you decided to pay me a visit, I simply thought it'd be nice to return the favor."
The loud thud of Sam's body crashing through the door accompanied Kingston's wicked laugh as he faded into oblivion. Sam rushed to his brother's side, but Dean shoved him off stating he was fine and more than ready to get out of there.
"You didn't pay the motel for tonight yet right?" Sam asked, settling into the driver's seat once again.
"No, not yet. Why?" Dean questioned, shooting his brother a confused look.
"We're leaving."
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Okay lemme know what you think and if anything confused you plot wise. I dont forsee it happening but if it did then please tell me. Also, my spring break officially ended today so it will be another 3-5 days til my next update, just thought i'd tell ya now. So click on the little button and send me a line! Thanx again for reading...