Soul Survivors
By
Valtira
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.
Chapter 11 Trouble finds him
Dean was surprised to see the petite figure of Beth waiting for them at the school. Mike had assigned her the task of escorting them around the school. "It's an arduous task, Beth," Mike chuckled, "But someone's got to do it."
"No problem Sheriff, all in the line of duty," she replied mournfully but her attitude was cheerful. More than willing to spend some time with Dean, her eyes sparkled mischievously.
Too cheerfully Mike growled laughingly.
Nodding hello to Christy and Sam, Beth had eyes only for Dean. "The Sheriff said I was to give you free rein Dean so just let me know where you want to start."
Dean was all business but in the back of his mind he knew he and Beth were going to make beautiful music together one of these days.
"I want to take a look at the room where the attack happened. Get the feel," he told her. "Do you mind taking Sam and Christy down to the records room?"
Her lips pouted prettily before chuckling. She wanted to stay with him but she would do what he asked.
The laughter outside the door drove her to madness. When the door opened she crowed with silent delight. The Target had come to her. They would pay for laughing at her.
Dean slapped his brother on the shoulder, "You find the records room."
"What exactly am I looking for," Sam asked quickly?
"Search for everything having to do with the Homecoming. For the last ten years if you have too, anything that might tell us who's doing this and why. Did someone hold a grudge against one of these kids? Is hurting the others just a cover-up? Counselors assessment, I don't know – use your imagination little brother, you do have one of those - an imagination don't ya Sammy," Dean laughed quietly?
Snarling at his brother Sam sauntered off down the hallway.
The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn but the early morning sun gave him enough light to see the layout of the room. He had seen pictures of the room after the attack. It was like a tornado had swept it. Melinda's blood had stained the floor in several places. The books, desks and chairs had been strewn about the room in chaos. One bookshelf was partially filled, but stacks of books sat on the floor waiting to be place back in their proper spots.
Cautiously Dean circled the room his fingers running across the book bindings as he walked past the floor to ceiling bookshelves.
Stopping in the center of the room, his whispered words echoed into the room, "Come out, come out wherever you are," it was a taunt, but Dean hoped it would elicit a response. He listened, but didn't really expect a response.
Stepping back he stumbled over a book that had somehow been hiding beneath a desk near the front of the room. He chuckled and reached down to pick up the offending article reading the title, 'Grimm's Fairy Tales', how poetic he mumbled.
A cool breeze flutters through the room. He knew instantly something or someone had gained entrance. A dark voice echoes into the silence. The tortured words were low and angry filled with hatred and malice. Dean knew instantly this was Melinda's attacker.
"You dare laugh," the angry voice stated. "They laughed and now their gone where no one will ever find them." She didn't even give him time to think, answer or react before the room erupted. A large leather bound book flew off the shelf and hit him in the back of the head. Stabbing pain erupted in his skull. Stunned he staggered forward nearly loosing his balance before a second book struck him in the chest. Gasping for air his chest grew tight with pain as he strained to breathe.
Dropping into a defensive stance he batted at the books as they tumbled toward him.
"No one laughs at Amelia," the harsh voice cried out. "They think I didn't know they were laughing, but I heard them. They thought they could talk behind my back, make fun of me. I am so much more then they could ever be. They took it all away, you took it away," she screamed.
Dean didn't get a chance to reply as the books continued to assault him. It wasn't long before his arms began to ache. His hands were soon scraped and bloody his body bruised and battered. Knowing he couldn't win this battle, not here, not now he stepped backward slowly inching toward the door.
Amelia screeched angrily unwilling to let her victim escape. Her hatred roared through the room. Chairs and desks spun into the air.
Ducking and twisting Dean could not hope to avoid the missiles she threw at him. Twisted metal pelted him from all sides, slashing at his clothes, battering his body. A broken chair slammed into his outstretched arm, the sharp edge slicing deep into his left forearm. He hissed in pain letting down his guard. Desperation sliced through him, he was fast loosing this battle but had yet to discover where she hid.
His head ached, his vision blurry he felt the air spinning around him. He knew what was coming as the wind wrenched him upward and spun him around. It tore at his arms and legs trying to tear them from his body. A cold blast of air slammed into his stomach sending him spinning backwards. He landed hard the breath knocked from his body as he struck the back wall and slid to the floor below the bookshelves.
Dean ducked covering his head as the remaining book were torn from the shelves to rain down on his unprotected body. They pounded at him until he could barely think, barely breath.
He heard her guttural laughter and turned toward the source of the sound hoping to find her. His eyes caught the shadow deep in the mirror only a few feet away. "I hate mirrors," he grumbled beneath his breath.
Her face was beautiful, flawless, skin clear and luminous as she glared at him. He stilled, the world falling away around him. Her silvery eyes mesmerized him drawing out his soul. A small part of him saw the danger and the lie behind her beauty. "No," he screamed into the room. Suddenly the face changed the features contorted, the skin puckering the left side of her face. Dean screamed and tore his eyes away from the mirror. The face was familiar, but Dean wouldn't understand the change until it was almost too late.
Her angry roar filled the room, deafening him.
Hands desperately flew to cover his ears and shut out the sound. Dean knew he couldn't survive the assault much longer. His strength was waning. He had one chance to save himself. He had to break the mirror.
Reaching down his right hand clenched around the leg of a twisted chair. Dean sucked in a breath as he heard the screech of metal from behind him.
The shadowy Amelia lifted her hand her fingers curling into a ball as she tore the bookshelves from the wall.
Dean's tortured body twisted as he reared back and lifted the chair into the air.
He saw her look of surprise as he launched the metal chair at her.
She couldn't stop it and raised her arms protectively. Her scream of hatred tore through the school echoing through the corridors as the chair struck the mirror. The piercing cry sliced into his mind.
In front of him the corner of the mirror cracked but didn't break, Dean was helpless to protect himself.
Several corridors away Sam and Christy were digging through the school records when they heard the angry scream echoing off the walls.
"Dean," Sam hissed breathlessly as he jumped to his feet.
Beth and Christy were hard on his heels as they sprinted down the hall.
They slid to a stop in front of the door. Sam gasped in horror as he looked at the door. It was bent and warped and half off its hinges. "Dean," he shouted in alarm." Pushing against the door he could barely budge it. Peering through the window he saw his brothers arm arc into motion as he threw the chair at the mirror.
Taking two steps back Sam launched himself at the door. With a screech of metal the door gave way. "Call an ambulance," he shouted. He didn't stop to see if Christy was making the call as he rushed into the room.
Sam staggered under the onslaught but he fought his way across the room.
"Dean," he yelled above the roar but the struggling figure on the floor gave no reply.
Her attention on Dean, the spirit in the mirror didn't see the newcomer until it was too late.
Sam ran picking up a twisted metal chair on his way across the room. "I hate mirrors," he raged, the Bloody Mary incident still fresh in his mind. Without hesitation he slammed the hard metal into the mirror. He heard the ominous cracking and the shriek of desperate anger. His eyes caught the sight of the beautiful face in the mirror before the world exploded.
Sam was thrown backward landing hard against the wall.
Dean had not heard Sam calling his name. He was desperately gathering what remained of his strength and searching for another object to hurl. Taking a deep breath he climbed to his feet. Looking up his eyes widened when he heard his brother wild cry of fury as he smashed at the mirror.
Shards of glass exploded around him. Sharp pain sliced into Dean as the glass opened up a gash across his left cheek. He twisted left hissing again when several pieces of glass buried themselves into his right shoulder.
The screeching of metal nails as they were torn from the wall assaulted him. Dean threw himself sideways hoping to avoid the full brunt of the blow as the bookshelf fell. He almost made it.
The bookshelf scraped along his right leg taking him to the floor. The books, desks and chairs that had swirled around the room tumbled to the floor, battering him one last time.
Seconds later the room was deathly quiet except for Sam and Dean's labored breathing.
Scrambling to his feet Sam rushed across the room. Falling to his knees beside his brother Sam felt a wave of helplessness rush through him at the blood splattered over his brother. Feeling for a pulse at his brother's neck he sighed in relief. "Dean," he whispered urgently, "Can you hear me?"
Shouting this time his fingers brushed at his brother's uninjured cheek, "Dean."
The touch brought Dean slowly back to life. Barely conscious his eyes fluttered open. "Amelia in the mirror" he whispered faintly
"Amelia Grayson," Sam asked quickly?
Dean nodded his head and immediately regretted it as waves of pain and dizziness washed over him. A tiny crooked smile crossed his lips, his voice raspy as he tried to joke, "Sammy to the rescue." His eyes fluttered closed.
"Stay with me Dean, an ambulance is on the way," he growled. "Stay with me big brother," he whispered urgently.
Sam was more than worried, his brother's pulse was weak and thready his breathing labored. He prayed the ambulance would hurry.
Seconds later Beth and Christy were by his side, checking his injuries Christy put her considerable nursing skills to use. Beth was on the radio hurrying the ambulance along and reporting to the Sheriff.
It took the ambulance less than five minutes to arrive. They went to work quickly doing to their best to stop the bleeding and stabilize their patient. A police cruiser arrived with them and it took Sam, one paramedic and the two officers to lift the bookshelf off Dean's legs as the second paramedic pulled him free.
It wasn't long before he was carefully lifted onto the gurney and strapped in place. "Hate hospitals," Dean muttered.
"I know, but just this once," Sam answered.
"People die in hospitals," Dean complained.
The paramedics chuckled saying, "Well we'll do our best to make sure that doesn't happen in your case."
Dean nodded before his body gave in. The darkness had rolled over him dragging him down into the dark abyss.
Sam stood to the side watching with mounting fear as he brother was driven away. He had wanted to be with Dean, but the ambulance was too small to fit all of them. Sam felt lost and for some reason he couldn't seem to think or react. His heart thumped in his chest, tears filled his eyes as he watched the ambulance disappear down the road.
Tapping him on the shoulder Christy captured his attention. "Come on, I'll drive you to the hospital."
He was shaking, and Christy squeezed his hand gently. "I don't think you should drive right now."
Sighing Sam looked into her eyes and saw the concern. Her sister had been attacked in that same room only a day ago. She knew how he felt, knew what he was going through. "Thanks, Christy."
"I'll lead the way you two," Beth shouted as she headed for her car.
Three hours later Sam stood in the hallway outside his brothers' hospital room. Relief flooded through him at the doctor's words. "Your brother's injuries though bad are not life threatening. He's bruised and battered has a couple of bruised rib, a slight concussion, a myriad of cuts and bruises and a twisted knee. We're going to keep him here for a couple of days. He hasn't regained consciousness, but thankfully he hasn't slipped into a coma."
Dean had been taken straight to a trauma room. Doctors and nurses were working to identify the myriad of injuries he had sustained. The darkness held him tight and he never felt their probing hands.
