Dean first became aware of a dull throbbing pain in his jaw which was accompanied by tiny droplets of water landing on his face. As he tried to get his thoughts in order, the water went away, only to come back a few seconds later. Forcing his eyes open, he struggled into a sitting position and started to look around. As he turned to the right, the water hit him full in the face. Sputtering, Dean lurched to his feet, wiping his face with his sleeve. Dean darted off the lawn as the sprinkler made its way towards him again.
Rubbing his aching jaw, Dean took a second to wallow in self pity. First he gets knocked out and left on the lawn like yesterday's trash, and then the sprinkler kicks him when he's down. Envisioning the water spots that were sure to be covering his car, Dean walked a few steps towards the street and stopped.
"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled in frustration. Sam had stolen his car. Furious that he let himself get bested by his little brother, Dean tried to remind himself that Sam was apparently under some kind of enchantment. Apparently it was one that gave him great speed and strength, for that would be the only way Sam would have any chanceof beating him.
Dean checked his watch, relieved to see that he'd only been out cold for five minutes. Still, that was plenty of time for Sam to get into a heap of trouble. Which meant it was once again up to him, Dean the underappreciated, overworked knight in dull leather to ride to the rescue.
As he looked around the deserted neighborhood for a car to steal, a miserable sigh escaped his lips. It seemed that he was going to have to ride to the rescue in a small grey minivan.
"Sam, you are so going to pay for this." he seethed as he worked to start the vehicle. He just hoped he could get to his little brother in time.
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Sam struggled to keep the car under the speed limit as he made his way back to the main roads. The last thing he needed were the cops keeping him from his destination. A twinge of guilt hit him as he recalled pulling his unconscious brother onto the grass. Dean had left him no choice, he tried to rationalize. Dean seemed to think that just because he had been living on the earth four years longer than Sam that he knew everything. Well, sorry big brother, he thought to himself. Sometimes you are wrong.
Sam never felt more sure of himself as he reached the halfway mark to the mansion. He was on his way to end this thing. Still, there was a part of his mind that kept trying to poke through, like a weed amongst the grass. What was he going to do when he got there? How was he going to get rid of the spirit? What if he got attacked again? Thanks to a finely placed left hook he was on his own. And why was he so obsessed with heading to the mansion right away, without the answers to these questions? Dean was supposed to be the headstrong impulsive one, whereas Sam was the thoughtful planner. Something else must be at play here.
But every time Sam would start to give in to these thoughts, a renewed sense of purpose would overtake him, urging him onward. His cheeks flushed, Sam's grip on the steering wheel tightened as the mansion loomed in the distance, getting closer with every second.
"Almost there." He muttered. "Almost there."
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Dean managed to get the stolen minivan on the road without anyone noticing. Maybe things were starting to look up. Maybe Sam had come to his senses, and was on his way backto apologize for knocking him out and stealing his damn car. Yeah, right, Dean snorted as he pushed harder on the gas pedal. Whatever had a hold on Sam's mind was powerful, and from what Dean could tell the holy water had only served to shove Sam out of his fog and further into his purpose. But why was he being pushed towards the mansion? Dean hated being in the dark, especially when it concerned the wellbeing of his baby brother.
Dean pulled out his cell phone and scrolled down till he found Sam's number. Sam's face smiled up at him from the screen. Knowing that he probably wouldn't even answer, Dean nonetheless hit the send button and held his breath. After the fourth ring Dean heard the telltale click, followed by low breathing.
"Sam? Sam, where are you? Sam…" The rest of Dean's words were drowned out by the dial tone. In his frustration Dean nearly threw the phone onto the floor, but at the last second he scrolled further down the list until he found his Dad's entry. He'd held off calling long enough. He knew deep down that this phone call would be as fruitless as the last one, but there was always the chance his father might answer. Several seconds later found the cell phone on the floor and Dean's fist hitting the dashboard in frustration. Well, now it was official: Dean was in this alone.
Dean took the next corner with the gas pedal firmly pressed against the floor. He gritted his teeth as the minivan went up on two wheels for a split second before crashing back onto the road. A horrible image of Sam driving his baby just as recklessly flashed through his mind, and Dean leaned his head back against the headrest and let all his frustrations, his worry, and his anger out in a bellow that seemed to come from the depths of his being. His head and lungs clear, Dean set forth to save his two most beloved charges…his car and his brother.
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The ringing of his cell phone pulled Sam's focus away from the view of the mansion that was quickly coming up on his right. He didn't have to look at the caller id to know who would be on the other end. He hit the answer button and listened to his frantic brother's voice calling to him.Dean's cries fell on deaf ears as Sam slowly lowered the phone and hung up. Sam pulled the car to a stop in front of the historic mansion. A wave of relief rolled over him as he gazed at the building. He was here. Finally.
Sam got out the car and leaned on the open door, his eyes scouring the outside of the mansion, for what he didn't quite know. A strong wind came up from behind him, and Sam watched as the mansion's double doors slowly swung open as if beckoning him inside. The rational part of his mind screamed at Sam to go and grab a gun out of the trunk. As Sam headed towards the rear of the car the wind propelled him forwards, pushing the thought away and moving him back to the mansion.
Sam climbed the steps slowly, the soft florescent light bathing him in its glow as he stood just inside the doorway. Sam was hit with a sense of duality as he continued into the foyer, as if something desperately wanted him here, and yet something else wished him harm. Sam stood facing the grand staircase while the doors quietly shut behind him.
As Sam slowlymade his way further into the mansion, a stark realization hit him. Now that he had finally reached his destination, he had no clue what he was going to do. His gut instinct had led him here, but now those same instincts began to convey a different message; perhaps this wasn't such a bright idea. Shaking it off, he walked up the stairs, his sneakers barely making a sound against the cold marble. As he gazed up at the portrait of Monica Brooks, a chill went down his spine. With some difficulty, Sam tore his eyes away and continued up the staircase.
Sam decided that a room by room search would be his best bet, so he tried the first door he came to. Opening the door cautiously, he found himself in what appeared to be a guest bedroom. A large poster bed was neatly made up against the wall, while a large sofa was in the far corner. An antique dresser stood opposite from where Sam was standing, and he paused as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The paleness of his complexion was broken by the dark circles under his eyes and his ruddy cheeks. Man, he looked like hell.
Sam's reflection seemed to shimmer as the mirror rippled slightly. Sam stood transfixed as the mirror began to vibrate. A small crack appeared in the upper left corner, and gradually began to snake its way down. The longer the crack grew, the faster Sam's heart pounded, and he instinctively took a few steps back. He threw his arms up to shield his face and dove to the floor just as the mirror shattered outward, sending a million tiny daggers his way.
