Chapter 14
Dean damn near had enough. For one, church people drive too slow and apparently every one in the friggen city of Atchison was one. And since when does a person need to break and blink before every single turn? The throbbing that pulsated pure agony through his head refused to dull, and the vice that held his chest tightened with every breath. At least his bloodshot eyes weren't sliding shut. That fact alone was enough to make Dean want to declare caffeine his god.
A stream of curses flew out of Dean's mouth as he banged his fist against the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes to avoid the stupid teenage pedestrians that had run out across the small side street. The elder never could understand why he had to yield to morons anyway, if someone was stupid enough to step out into oncoming traffic they deserved to be hit.
The traffic rounded the final corner, making the entrance to the church clearly visible, the gothic doors stained red open wide to welcome in the congregation. A wooden cased sign was positioned at the end of the sidewalk and Dean scanned it hastily to see exactly when the Mass was to begin.
Grimacing, Dean dropped his head to his chest, taking a deep steady breath in a futile attempt to calm himself and even out his skyrocketing blood pressure when he realized he had all of about thirty minutes to get to Andrew and depending on how the confrontation went, maybe kick the dude's ass.
Gravel spun upwards at an alarming rate as the Impala whipped into the parking lot. Dean jerked the car haphazardly to the right, barely managing to squeeze the classic in between the parked cars and the long line of waiting cars as he flew past them. He smirked evilly when he caught sight of an empty one on the left, and completely disregarding the oncoming traffic as well as the established line itself, Dean turned the wheel hard and accelerated into the spot.
The honking sounds blaring from the cars didn't deter him one bit as he slammed the car door shut and began the trek to the church. Patience was not in his vernacular, and since they were church people they had to forgive him anyway. So, what difference did it make if he pissed them off a bit? There were bigger things at stake here than losing your parking space in an unlined gravel lot, no less.
A large crowd of people huddled at the entrance, each one taking their time to greet the parishioners as they stepped into the cathedral. Dean barreled through them all, nearly stumbling when he cleared the crowd. The cool air conditioning hit his sweaty clammy skin like a breath of fresh air, and Dean stopped short in the main aisle, glancing around the open hall and scanning the audience for any sign of Father Andrew.
"Can I help you sir?" Dean jerked back when a hand laid to rest on his shoulder and grit his teeth when he saw another man in priestly attire staring back at him with scrutinizing eyes.
"Father Andrew. Where is he?" the Winchester inquired sharply.
"He's in his office preparing." the man replied simply, appearing completely unaffected by Dean's forcefulness.
Dean nodded quickly, and turned on his heels to begin storming off down the aisle and towards the office, when a firm hand gripped his arm. The elder Winchestersnapped his head to the side and glared angrily at the old, gray-haired man. He tried to jerk his arm free, but a force unnatural to any man seeming the age of the priest before him clamped down.
"You can't go back there." The command was firm, but Dean wasn't inclined to heed it.
"Watch me." Dean challenged, shaking his head when the instantaneous memory of the first time he'd heard that phrase jolted into his mind.
He pulled back again, this time colliding with another member of the congregation without apology forcing the priest to release him. The older man reached out for him again, but Dean was faster and all too experienced in avoiding unwanted scenarios. He melded into a group of people chatting about the Vatican II or something like that and worked his way through them and back into open space where the back hallway was in sight.
It took less than a minute for him to locate the correct office. The hurried footfalls that resounded behind him during his entire venture came to a quick stop and out of the corner of his eye Dean caught sight of the same priest from earlier pause before continuing to shuffle the rest of the way to meet him all the while reprimanding him for not heeding his earlier instruction.
Dean copped a smug smirk, and with one quick move flung the office door wide open with a bang and stomped in. The figure behind the desk didn't even budge at the sound. Father Andrew sat still, head bowed over an aged text, his lips moving slowly, the small whispering of muttering faint against Dean's heavy breathes.
"What did you do to my brother?" Dean demanded, stalking up the desk and positioning himself directly in front of the man.
"I'm sorry, Father, I tried to tell him---"
"You." Dean pointed, whipping around to face the source of the annoying interruption, "Shut the hell up."
Father Andrew refused to acknowledge the use of obscene language in his revered quarters or the fact that a raging madman was staring down at him with fire in his eyes. The priest simply continued his chant, lingering within the trance that held him.
Dean studied the Father for a brief moment, and for a split second tried to make out a piece of what he knew to be Latin coming from the man's mouth. But he honestly could've cared less. This man was responsible for the way his brother was acting.
"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Dean yelled, reaching out and lightly hitting Father Andrew's shoulder to warrant the man's attention.
Father Andrews head flung upright at lightening speed. Dean stumbled backwards in horror as empty orbs whiter than porcelain locked his own. Regaining his footing, Dean maneuvered slowly towards the door, never turning his back towards the Father.
"Father Micheal. Leave us." The deep steely command was followed shortly by a soft click as the servant wordlessly obeyed, leaving Dean alone with Father Andrew. With haunting grace, the priest rose from his seat and stepped from behind the desk.
"Y-you" Dean stuttered, struggling to find his voice.
"What about me?" Father Andrew pressed, covering the distance between them with two long strides, his white orbsflickering menacingly.
"You marked my brother." Dean spat, rage and utter disgust intertwining themselves within the words.
"No, I chose your brother." The priest insisted, taking another step forward into Dean's space forcing the young man to take another precautionary step back, sending the Winchester frowning as the hard wooden panels pressed into his back. He was trapped.
"Sam never did anything to you." Dean argued, shifting and working to inch himself away from the confrontation, but Father Andrew merely swayed lightly towards whatever direction Dean sought, blocking the young man's path effectively.
"Of course not. That is how it must be." The priest explained, "A sacrifice must be innocent and willing."
"My brother doesn't have a death wish, and sure as hell wouldn't let some wack job kill him because the psycho is scared to die."
"He does now." Father Andrew insisted, pushing forward until nothing but the slightest wisp of air remained between them. His lips curled up and his lined face sneered at his superiority to the older brother.
"I'm in here." The priest taunted, tapping a finger to his temple.
"I'm gonna kill you." Dean threatened, his eyes narrowing, face pinched, and voice scratchy.
"Unfortunately, that's impossible." The Father replied coolly, taking a small step back from his cornered enemy. "Nothing man made can harm me."
"So what? Immortality makes you invulnerable." Dean scoffed, adjusting his jacket and straightening his stance.
"Something like that." The priest offered, turning his back to Dean and returning to his desk, retrieving the open worn book, the yellowed pages marred with tar-black scribbling before cramping the young man's space yet again, shoving the bounded pages towards his face, the smell of rotting ink and paper flooding Dean's senses.
"Only this can stop us." With a sharp slam, the priest snapped the book shut.
The sound barely reached Dean's ears before a sharp pain pierced his skull and his eyes beheld the starkest and most blinding white. A scream faded on his lips as all faded into the darkest black.
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Sam jolted from the bed, gripping his head tightly, his face twisted in pure anguish as he fell to the floor. He succumbed to the blinding pain, writhing beneath it, and praying for relief. Sweet relief.
It came with a bang, a loud sound resonating throughout his mind, and penetrating through the agonizing haze. A wave of confusion overtook him as he slowly let his eyes drift along the crappy motel interior.
"D-dean" Sam whispered hoarsely, rubbing away the dulling pain from his temples. "Dean."
A moment of clarity sent him into a state of worry and panic. Dean wasn't here. He left or—or was taken. Sam wasn't sure. He couldn't remember. Why couldn't he remember? It only lasted a second, all sense of reality vanished yet again as Sam sought to rise, but fell to the ground lifelessly.
The bond had been severed for but an instant, but no longer.
"The appointed time." Sam murmured, his eyes rolling back in his head as the chant resumed it's playing in his mind.
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PLEASE READ!
Okay so more action this time around, hitting the big climax you know? Anyways, just wanted to let you guys know that in the absense of new epis of Supernatural, some writers, including myself have been working on what's known as a Virtual Season. Basically it's "episodes" that are written in prose format but will be released once a week starting July 11th. If you're interested in checking that out---the link will be in my profile...So with that said, lemme know what you think! and thanks to my people for giving me the go ahead and thanks to you guys for reading and reviewing.
