Chapter 3

"Are you sure?" Dean questioned.

"Yes, I'm positive. That's him." Sam said quickly.

"Well, if that's the case, then that demon you saw, is here, in this town." Dean answered.

"Serenity?" Sam questioned timidly.

"Yeah, we just passed the town limit when I saw this motel, figured I'd stop for the night, cause you were sleeping like a rock, and I was pretty tired myself." Dean responded.

"If that's true, then that demon could be anywhere, and it knows that I know what it is." Sam replied.

Dean nodded and suddenly the dark room seemed so much darker than it was. He shifted uncomfortably in the bed as the news story went off the air and switched to commercial. Dean turned the television off and plunged them both into a thick black, broken only by the flashing numbers of the alarm clock. There was movement and the lamp between them turned on. Dean got to his feet and temporarily left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. He returned a few moments later, holding the container of salt in his hand.

Carefully, soundlessly, he went about salting all of the doors and windows in the room and somehow, Sam felt safer. He now knew that the demon couldn't get in, and that made him feel a little better. The drowsiness from the pain medication took hold again and Sam felt himself drifting into a sleep that he couldn't fight. The movements of Dean comforted him and he slowly succumbed to the darkness that edged his vision.

Dean walked out from salting the bathroom and cast worried eyes to where Sam lay. To his surprise he saw that the younger had given into sleep and was quietly huddled on the mattress, a tense look on his face. Dean sighed and reached over to gently pull the sheets up over Sam's rigid body, the language of which hid the concern over what was to come.

"G'night, Sammy." He whispered softly and settled himself on his own bed, and leaning against the headboard, he fought sleep, concerned for the other's safety.

Eventually, however, although he fought brilliantly, sleep won the battle and Dean's head nodded to his chest as though in prayer and he slept. The motel room was silent except for the steady breathing of the two brothers who had taken up residence in it. The wind sang outside, brushing against the window and caressing the land with its gentle song. One of the brothers sighed in his sleep and the sound echoed in the room.

The salt barriers at every window and door kept the predators that haunted the night away from them. They were secluded in their own little safe haven, but the eldest, even in sleep was still unsettled. His face was stonily blank; not calm like what was usual, but tense and determined. He forced his way out of sleep, only to have it pull him back under again. He couldn't fight it with all the strength that he possessed. It just wouldn't let him win.

The youngest brother tossed and turned, throwing the sheets that his brother had lovingly pulled over him, away and they soundlessly collapsed to the floor and lay helpless where they fell. Sam's face flashed with a variety of emotions, ranging from sadness to terror and stopped somewhere in between. His breath was sharp in his chest as though he was running from something, but his legs weren't moving. He grabbed at the bedspread, not realizing that he was doing so, and his knuckles turned white with the strength. Dean slept on, not fluttering an eyelid, but still concerned. It could be seen on his face.

Sam's mouth moved in a soundless whisper that fluttered past his voice box only to die groping for an exit in the young man's mouth. The younger Winchester bit down, and blood seeped from the slit in his lip that he had created. His head jerked from one side to the other, ungracefully pushing away the pillows that protected the back of his skull. His hands dug into the mattress at his sides. He kicked at something as though to banish it, but it clearly wasn't working. His eyelids fluttered restlessly and he cracked them open to cast a desperate glance to where Dean sat, asleep. His eyes closed again, only to open once more and stare at the light curtains covering the window of room thirteen. A shadow moved behind the curtain and Sam shot to sit, instantly aware. Dean shifted position, but didn't move.

The shadow outside the window stood still, and Sam knew that whatever was out there was staring at him. It knew he was inside, but the salt prevented it from getting in. On shaky legs, Sam stood and slowly made his way to the window. He wasn't sure what pulled him there, but something did and he found himself answering to it. At the window, he reached out a hand and grabbed a handful of the curtain to rip it back away from the glass. The moonlight rushed in and a shadow stood silhouetted within the beams. Sam stared, his eyes not moving from what he saw.

Outside the window, The boy known as Jonathan Dayton stood watching through wide, frightened eyes. The young man said no words, yet his mouth moved as though he was speaking, but Sam couldn't hear. The man outside pressed a hand against the glass and the light eyes stared into Sam. Flashes rushed through the young man's head and he immediately brought a hand up to rub his forehead as it burst into pain that shattered his world. The flashes were the same as before, the demon killing Jonathan, the pinpricked green eyes watching him maliciously and a single, whispered word chimed in his ear as his knees weakened.

"Help." The man outside the window mouthed the word and kept his hand pressed against the glass.

The flash of the pale man came again and Sam was staring into the sheen-covered face of the demon and it smiled at him. Sam's lungs cried for air that wouldn't come and his knees gave out. He fell forward and caught himself against the window. His hand fell against the hand of the dead boy outside and Sam's world changed. A ripping pain that started in his chest and spread throughout his body overcame him. His voice cried out into the moon-bathed room and the sound reverberated off of the walls. Sam's face was flushed as he slid to the ground, his hand leaving a trailing streak on the crystal glass, but never leaving the windowpane. The dead boy's eye drove into him and the word was whispered again.

"Help."

Sam blinked and when he opened his eyes, the demon stood outside the window, his hand against Sam's and a nasty smile hanging thickly against his sharp face bones. Sam felt his life being torn from him and resisted it. The demon quickly pulled his hand back away from the glass and Sam collapsed in a heap, ungracefully. His eyes grew heavy as unconsciousness pressed down on him and the last thing he saw before passing over was once again the dead boy staring through the window with a look of sorrow on his face. Sam passed out.