Soul Survivors

By

Valtira

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Sam or Dean Winchester, like everyone else I wish I did.

Chapter 16 The Old Homestead

Sam pulled into the driveway amazed at what he saw. The driveway was long nearly a quarter mile and the first half was badly overgrown with large trees and dense thickets. Both Sam and Christy sucked in a deep breath as they neared the house. After the initial view the rest of the place was a Garden of Eden. Well kept flower beds were a riotous mass of color. For a short distance around the house the grass was green and lush. Beyond that the forest grew thick and menacing. Shadows flickered across the lawn giving the whole place a dark and eerie feel.

The house drew their attention. It stood two stories high and sprawled menacingly across the lawn. The blue gray stone was dark and unwelcoming. The curtains showing through the windows were also dark and gloomy. Deep browns and burgundy, they did not enhance the welcome.

"No wonder they never sold the place," Christy whispered, "It gives me the chills."

A young man wearing a big floppy had, leather gloves and dark sunglasses riding a lawn tractor came around the corner, his expression showed surprise at first but he waved a welcome as he parked beside the Impala. "Can I help you folks?"

"We're looking for Andrew Grayson, does he live here," Sam asked?

"I've never met the guy," the young man stated calmly. "I deal with the Real Estate office. They pay me to do the gardening and general upkeep on the place. Are you folks looking to buy the place?"

Sam smiled, "Yeah, do you mind if we take a look inside?"

"Front doors open, go on in. I've got some work to do, but I don't think anyone will mind. His demeanor was warm and open, he smiled brightly and waved as he climbed back on the lawn mower and drove away.

Sam didn't answer just took Christy's hand and squeezed it tight. The mat outside the front door said 'Welcome' but neither of them felt welcome in this house. They could feel the energy vibrating from its wall. Christy shivered.

"I don't like this place," Christy grumbled.

"It's just a house," he answered trying to give her confidence, but he felt it too, this was more than just a house. It seemed to be a living breathing presence. The answer was here he could feel it. Even if Andrew wasn't here, they might be able to find out what was causing the teenagers comas.

How dare they invade her house! He grinned maliciously; the new face was an asset after all. Rounding the corner of the house he stopped the mower and entered the house through the back door. He had recognized the tall man. He had been with the other one, the knowing one. He was the one who had broken the mirror before the job could be finished. Well this one would pay for his interference.

Silently he climbed the back stairs and slid into his sister's room. The golden glow appeared suddenly above his shoulder. Shedding his jeans and T-shirt he slipped into black jeans and turtleneck. It was easier to hide in the shadows this way.

Sam whistled beneath his breath. The place was immaculate inside and out and totally different from the gloomy exterior. It was a showplace. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings and the reflection shown from every surface of the room. It was bright, too bright, Sam mumbled beneath his breath. 'Mirrors', "Damn," he whispered. "What ever you do Christy do not look at the mirrors." They were everywhere, on every wall and even on the ceilings

"Why," she asked quickly. Her hand tightened in his. "It's the mirrors," Sam answered. I don't know how yet but that's how he gets to his victims."

"Well let's find out," Christy urged. It might have been reckless, but she wanted to know, needed to know. Maybe knowing would bring her sister back.

Sam hesitated. The place just didn't feel right. He wished Dean was here to watch his back, but he wasn't, Sam was on his own. Feeling in his pockets for the salt, garlic and the handgun Sam pulled the shotgun from beneath his jacket. He heard Christy suck in a breath but he wasn't going to apologize or change tactics now.

Upstairs the dark figure stepped through the mirrored doorway and stopped long enough to gloat as he stared at his captives. They were his and he would not easily give them up. The man downstairs was too close to the truth, he would have to be silenced. Stepping forward his fingers lifted the chin of his latest acquisition. His body suddenly glowed a greenish gold as the tiny creature entered his mind.

Melinda groaned and opened her eyes. A silent scream escaped her. He drew her forward and molded his body with hers. Soon they were one, the essence of Melinda buried deep in his mind. Her spirit remained chained to the wall, but the face that stared out at the world was hers.

Miles away her body shook uncontrollably setting off the hospitals bells and whistles. Doctors and nurses rushed to her side but as quickly as the seizure came, her body stilled. Deep within, her heart raced in her chest and panic filled her mind.

He raced through the murky darkness reveling in the thing he had become. This was his world, his to manipulate, his to own. He flitted from room to room hunting them. He found them in the library searching through the desk. He couldn't show his hand just yet, he wanted them alive – for a while. He snickered, the slight sound whispered into the room, hoping to draw their attention.

Sam looked up, "Did you hear that," he asked quietly.

"Hear what," Christy started he hands stilled as she cocked her head to listen.

"It sounded like laughter," he answered looking around the room.

"I didn't hear it," Christy whispered back, "Probably just this old house creaking."

"Probably," Sam agreed, but he knew different. He had heard the laughter. Bells went off in his head but Christy was already on the move headed out the door and up the stairs.

"I'm going upstairs," she shouted. "I love this place. Come on I want to see the bedrooms."

Sam groaned and shifted the shotgun to his shoulder. It had been a mistake to bring her, she was out of control, but it was too late now. All he could do was follow and try to keep her out of trouble. Because trouble he knew was stalking them.

Christy was in heaven, she loved antiques and this old house was full of them. Everything was in perfect condition, lovingly cared for. Her fingers gently stroked the polished wood and caressed the porcelain statues she found. At least she heeded Sam's words and hadn't looked into the mirrors. She had been tempted though. Each wall held a large mirror, and like the rest of the furniture in the house they were antiques and glorious.

They traversed the house stopping momentarily in each room until Christy stopped and gasped. "Jeez, look at this place," Christy breathed. Every surface of the room was covered in mirror. Her fingers caressed the pictures along the wall. They were all of Amelia, "This place is like a shrine."

"Yeah or maybe an Alter for someone to worship at," Sam droned. It was spooky. The whole room was covered in mirrors floor to ceiling except for the row of pictures hanging above the bed. The room was lit but a hundred candles littering the surface of every piece of furniture. It smelled of French vanilla, a smell Sam disliked intensely.

Head bent, his eyes looking at the toes of his shoes Sam hurried across the room. Grabbing Christy by the arm he propelled her into the next room. This room was darker, more masculine and Sam new instantly they were in Andrew's room. It was dingy, unkempt, unlike the rest of the house.

So far they'd been lucky, but Sam knew it couldn't last. They hadn't found anything. He knew they were close, but he couldn't hunt with Christy in tow. "Come on we have to get out of here. I can come back later when Dean is better.

Christy grumbled, and dragged her toes wanting to spend more time in the beautiful house. Pulling away from Sam she ran across the room.

Taking advantage of her distraction, Andrew softly called her name. His wait was rewarded as she stepped closer and looked up into his face, no he reminded himself; it wasn't his face she saw at all.

"Oh my God, Melinda," Christy whispered putting her hands out she met Melinda's in the mirror's reflection.

Across the room Sam heard her whimpering cry and turned to see Christy facing the mirror. "Christy no!" he shouted, but it was too late.

The distraction was enough, it was all he needed. The brass lamp sitting on the table beside the bed flew across the room. Without a sound Sam crumpled to the floor. His skull was on fire, pain radiated through every nerve ending but Sam fought hard to stay conscious.

Through slitted eyes he watched Christy. She was mesmerized by the sight of her sister in the mirror. He had to break the mirror now before it was too late. The brass lamp lay beside him. Numb fingers reached for it. Screaming her name he launched the heavy brass lamp toward the mirror.

Christy's heart was in her throat, when she saw her sister's face she forgot Sam's warning. "Melinda," she whispered. "Is that really you?"

"Yes Chrissie, help me, help me," the familiar voice screamed. The mirrored image glowed brightly drawing Christy's mind and soul into itself.

He crowed in triumph, she was his now like the others she would become part of his collection. He looked deeply into the heart of her and captured her soul tearing it from her body. Thin wisps of light gathered around her he pulled them close and took her through the mirror.

Sam dragged his aching head around watching as the lamp spun slowly – too slowly, he grumbled to himself, toward the mirror. His heart thumped in his chest when he saw Christy fall to the floor. It was too late, he'd failed her, failed the kids but most of all he'd failed Dean.

The Brass lamp struck the mirror shattering Melinda's image. The creature within screamed in fury as his facade was torn away. He spun away from the broken mirror the glow fading as the tiny creature was thrown out. Quickly he traversed the dark pathway to the next mirror across the room. The enemy was climbing to his feet.

Sam rose on wobbly legs his vision blurred as he struggled to put one foot in front of the other to reach Christy's unconscious body.

He saw the brass lamp flying his way. His body was slow to react, but he somehow managed to avoid a direct blow. Unsteady on his feet even the glancing blow was enough to send him spinning. Only one thought crossed his mind and he screamed his brother's name. "Dean," followed a second later by, "I'm sorry."

Sam crashed into the wall behind him. In a tangled heap he hit the wall and fell forward striking his head on the hard marble floor. Stars exploded in his skull, and darkness rose up to claim him.