Chapter 13
Silence tightened its firm grip over the dim room lit only by the few streams of morning light that managed to pierce through the closed shade. The musty, recycled air had thickened to suffocating proportions and had it not been for the rustling of his duffle as he searched for clean clothes or the slow, lulling whirr of the laptop, Dean would've been driven stir-crazy.
The elder glanced warily over at his brother. Sam had yet to move from his earlier position on the bed, not even shifting his weight from time to time. His little brother for once in his life was completely and utterly still. The only part of Sam that did move was his eyes.
Empty, emotionless brown orbs traced Dean's every move, the eyes roaming slowly over each small motion the elder made with extreme fascination. While Dean made a point not to let this new version of Sam out of his line of sight, this Sam's eyes were boring into him and the intensity behind the stare was piercing.
Dean was far from at ease in his brother's presence. The usual, calming lull in conversation was now replaced with a sense of caution and a slight fear of the unknown. The older Winchester was beginning to feel like an unwanted outsider as the minutes ticked by, and worse yet like he was being analyzed for the slightest moment of weakness in order to give whatever lay behind those watching eyes the upper hand.
"He's expecting me." Dean jerked when Sam's cool tone shattered the silence and forced him out of his thoughts. The elder stifled a pained groan at his sore muscles and slowly pulled a shirt, that at the very least smelled clean, over his head to try and cover the startled look he knew his face held.
"Yeah, well, he's gonna get to see me." Dean replied stiffly, grimacing when the light cotton material stuck to his damp, sweaty skin.
"He won't like that." Sam stated matter-of-factly although his eyes flickered maliciously.
"Do I look like I care?" Dean snapped heatedly, his forehead creased in frustration. He shuddered out a deep breath and worked to pop a couple of pills from their holding pack before the fever and cough he was fighting destroyed his chances of even getting to the church. Not like the real Sam was around to actually see him taking them, and if he was, Dean prayed to everything holy he wouldn't remember.
"It doesn't matter. The time is appointed." Sam's icy words held finality, but if Dean sensed it, he didn't show it.
"Like hell it is." Dean argued, pulling on his jacket even though a thick sheen of sweat covered every inch of him, another thing his Sam would've pointed out.
"You can't stop it." The younger taunted, a challenge gleaming in his eyes.
Dean hastily sorted through his journal and array of notes and whipped out a couple of pages before clearing the entire distance between him and his brother in all of about two strides. With the pages clenched tightly in his fist, he knelt down in front of Sam, leveling himself to where their eyes had no option but to lock.
"Wanna bet?" Dean challenged, his expression hard and menacing. He waited for a response, for whatever evil had latched on to his brother to show itself, but wasn't given the luxury.
Taking a deep breath, the elder worked to steady his temper and with a good bit of effort managed to smooth out the furrow in his brow and the fire behind his eyes. Reminding himself once again as he had hours before that this wasn't really Sam.
"Look, Sam. I know you're in there somewhere." Dean began, searching his little brother's gaze for even the slightest flicker that their true, warm likeness had replaced the cold, steely one. C'mon Sammy, win out. You can beat this thing.
"Okay, then. So, I'm entertaining a crowd of two today. That's cool." The crinkling of paper was the only sound heard for a couple of minutes as Dean tried to calm his nerves and organize his thoughts, and Sam sat and watched the routine passively. Just do something, dammit!
"Alright." Dean muttered, holding up a hand as a sign to wait as he turned his head and coughed into his shoulder. When the worst of the attack had passed, Dean stumbled back over to the coffee table, grabbing the room temperature bottle of water and taking a few sips before returning to sit along side his brother. God help me.
"So, listen up. 'Cause I'm only gonna say this once." Dean paused, searching his brother's features yet again for a hint of his Sam but received a blank stare in return. Dude, I swear, you look at me one more time like that and I'm…
"I think you're right about the immortality thing." Another lull, but then it was probably one of two times Dean actually admitted Sam was right, at least to his face, and yet that didn't manage to muster a reaction from the younger.
Sam, that was history in the making, dude. I just said you were right. I actually admitted you were right. Wanna give a reaction here?
"Alright, so yesterday when I was doing a search on Father Andrew, I couldn't find a thing. Not even a license, dude. But then I came across this article here, see?" Dean shoved the crumpled paper in front of Sam's face and was surprised when Sam slowly raised a hand to accept it but didn't make any motion to read it. Now that's the Sammy I know, all research.
"It's a report on one of those pillar of the community award things from a county in Ohio, and Father Andrew accepted it. So, uh…the thing is that this ceremony was held thirty years ago, and look." Dean pointed to a figure on the far left of the image, waiting for Sam to follow his line of sight before continuing. Why don't you want to look? C'mon, I'm on a roll here.
"I mean, the caption says it's Andrew but he's old. Well, older than he looks now. And then I checked the local obits and there were fifteen unexplained deaths in the area. And get this…the local authorities think that the boys were in a cult because they all wore the same tattoo. So, I'm thinking that Andrew marks his victims and then uses their life force or whatever to make himself younger. But if he looks old there and not here, I guess it can regress and that's why there are so many deaths."
Truth: It's the only semi-logical thing I could come up with and the only thing that gives me a way to save you Sam.
Still silence took the room captive once again. Dean watched pensively as Sam continued to stare at the image, never blinking. The elder shifted uncomfortably, wincing at the tightness ever present in his chest.
His long explanation had worn him out and he wanted nothing more than to crash. Blinking heavily, Dean fought off the wave of exhaustion that sought to take its hold, reminding himself to down a couple of his caffeine pills on the way out. Can't sleep not until Sam is back. Just can't.
He didn't have to fight hard though, the stillness shattered mere seconds later, and the sinking, clenching feeling that had held his heart in a vice since the beginning seized him with a vengeance.
"Close, but not close enough."
"What?"
"It's a good start though." Sam continued, extending his hand and offering the article back to Dean. "Definitely commendable."
"Alright, that's it." Dean snapped. He's mocking me. Sam-- not Sam--that thing is mocking me. Dammit, I'm trying, can't you see that? So, I'm not friggen' Heraldo. Big deal.
Dean gripped Sam tightly by the shoulders and shaking him hard, fully intending to launch a verbal assault and a physical one if it came to that. He was blindly losing the battle and this thing that had taken hold of his brother was throwing it in his face.
"Let go." Sam commanded, his voice eerily low. That's not my little brother's voice.
A stunned Dean hesitantly complied, snatching the article from Sam's hand and storming over toward the table to shove it back into his journal, his mind screaming for him to just calm down. I can't hurt my brother. I mean, a part of it is still Sam, right?
"He's waiting." Dean chewed his lower lip, continuing to gather his things and search for the car keys. "I said he's waiting." Maybe I can.
"I heard you the first time. And I think I already said that I don't care." Dean stated haughtily, jingling the keys to his precious baby and opening the motel door. "And just so you know, I'm gonna figure this out and get Sam, my Sam, back. Then I'm gonna hunt your ass down. You got me?" And everything related to you, resembling you, anything you've ever come in contact with. No one touches my little brother and gets away with it, you got me?
"Your Sam is chosen and unless you figure out a way to resurrect the dead you'll never have him--me--back." Not if I can help it. What if I'm wrong, or late or… No, not gonna happen.
Dean blinked repeatedly. Wordlessly, he stepped out into the blinding mid-morning sun and shut the door behind him, ignoring the tightness in his chest that seemed to cut off his air supply, and the clenching of his heart firm enough to stop its beating.
He couldn't give into any emotion but anger. It brought him strength and tenacity, and nothing tasted more bittersweet in his mouth than vengeance. He craved it. That bastard had dared mess with his brother and there was no way in hell he was going to win out and kill Sam.
Dean turned the key in the ignition, shifted into gear, and slammed his foot down on the accelerator. He knew what he was going to do. His only question "is it wrong to hit a priest?"
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So...there ya have it. I'm so sorry it took so long. Having to push through the whole brick wall thing. So, hopefully this chapter turned out ok. Lemme know what you think.
