Sam warily raised his head, hoping his efforts wouldn't be met by a piece of mirror through the eye. Crawling out of the room wasn't an option; he was surrounded by a sea of broken glass. Moving as slowly as an old man, he rose to his feet as glass fell off of him, clattering to the floor. Once back in the hallway, he slammed the door shut and allowed himself to take a deep breath. Sam ran his hands through his tousled hair, dislodging the tiny shards of glass that still remained.
Sam's knees suddenly felt like rubber, and he leaned up against the wall for support. What the hell was wrong with him? Going to a place where he had been attacked twice, without weapons or backup? He thought of Dean, lying out cold on the grass. The adrenaline coursing through his system coupled with the concern for his brother finally drove away the fog that had settled over his brain, and he made for the stairs. He would go find Dean, hopefully avoid a well deserved ass-kicking, and together they would work to get rid of this evil for good.
As Sam began his descent, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. One hand gripping the railing, he whipped his head around, confident he would see the creature from the previous night. Although no one was there, the feeling of being watched only intensified. Trying not to let his fear get the better of him, Sam continued down the steps. Without warning he felt something strike him across his shoulder blades, and Sam fell forward a few steps. He managed to stop his fall by latching onto the railing with both hands, his knuckles white with the effort. Sam stood there, waiting for the next attack to commence. When a few moments passed without incident, he methodically made his way step by step down to the first landing.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he leaned up against the wall. He felt like he had just run a marathon. And why was it so hot all of a sudden? Knowing he still had one more flight of stairs to go before escaping, he braced himself and pushed off of the safety of the wall. As he reached the fourth stair another blow hit him, this time on the lower back. Lurching forward, his balance and death grip on the railing saved him from a nasty fall. Before he could continue his descent something hit the back of his knees and his back simultaneously, and Sam finally lost the battle and tumbled down the long flight of stairs, landing in a heap at the bottom.
The marble floor was blessedly cold against Sam's cheek as he lay still, the only sound his ragged breathing. He'd survived his little tumble with his brain still in his skull; however the rest of his body was still in question. He set about testing each of his limbs, one at a time. Except for some bruises, everything seemed to be in working order. Placing his palms on the floor, he slowly pushed himself to a sitting position, a pained moan escaping his lips as his battered ribs screamed at him. Well, perhaps there was some damage after all. He felt, with some relief, that they were only bruised not broken. After getting tossed against as many walls as he had been in his lifetime, Sam was getting pretty good at making self diagnoses.
A jolt hit him as he remembered the blows he'd received before falling, and he whipped his head around. The mansion remained eerily calm, which was somehow more unsettling. Well, he'd made it down the stairs, albeit not exactly the way he'd planned. Now, to get to the door and go find Dean.
One arm wrapped protectively around his sore ribs, Sam began to get to his feet. As he raised himself to his full height, he stumbled backwards in shock as a being materialized in front of him. Standing before him was the spirit of Monica Brooks, her long black dress swirling about despite the lack of wind. Her azure eyes held an almost pleading look as she reached out a hand towards him. With the apparition blocking his escape, Sam turned and ran towards the office he and Dean had met Bill Morgan in. But before he could get inside, the door slammed shut.
Sam frantically searched for another way out, a weapon, anything that might save him. Sam began to run towards the staircase, skidding to a halt as the spirit moved in front of him, again blocking his path. In a flash she launched herself at him, grasping his head in her gnarled hands. Sam yelled as he tried breaking her hold, but he could not break free. A familiar pain began to grow behind his eyes as he stared into the intense eyes of his foe. The room began to shimmer as the vision took hold.
Random flashes assaulted Sam's brain as Monica tightened her hold on Sam's mind. A masked man racing down the hall…struggling, being pushed down the stairs…darkness. A voice, calling out…young girl, blonde hair. Two men bound by blood, danger! Fire, agony, then serenity…light, happiness. The voice, the child's voice calling out again, beckoning…
Sam screamed as the pain grew; strange images continued to flood his mind as he stood helpless to stop them. The voice, calling, being pulled from the place of peace…torn away, falling. Evil, oh God, such evil…another being, cruel and malicious, evil…the struggle…
Sam didn't know how much more he could take. He'd never felt pain this intense before. Sam had no doubt if he didn't break the link soon she would destroy his mind, if not his very existence.
……………………………………..
Dean leapt from the stolen minivan before the engine had completely quieted. Sprinting over to his car, he breathed a sigh of relief at finding it unharmed. He hoped his brother would be in the same condition. Dean grabbed two pistols, one he put in the waistband of his jeans, and slid a vial of holy water into his pocket.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he yanked furiously at the locked front door, then slammed his fist against it in frustration. Racing back to the car, hetraded the extra pistol for theaxe in the trunk. "Déjà vu, Sammy." he muttered as he began hacking away at the door. Once again Sam was locked in a house with an angry spirit, and Dean had to destroy yet another door to get to him.
"I swear…" thwack! "I'm gonna make that kid…" thwack! "…pay me a hundred bucks…" thwack! "…for every…" thwack! "…damn…" thwack! "…rescue!" Dean shouted the last word in triumph as he broke through. Tossing the axe to the side, he climbed through the hole.
The butterflies in his stomach turned into alligators as he took in the scene before him. The old hag had her back to him and her fingers tangled in Sam's long brown hair. Sam's mouth hung slack; his eyes were nearly shut from the pain he was obviously in.
Deanpulled outthe pistol and looked at it for a moment before tucking it in the back of his pants. He couldn't risk taking the shot and possibly wounding his brother.
"Hey!" he yelled as he charged forward. Removing one hand from Sam's head, Monica caught Dean by the throat and tossed him back against the splintered door. Dean fell through the wood and onto the landing; blood from a gash on his forehead already running into his eyes. Picking up the axe, he wiped the brow with his sleeve and stepped through the door.
With an enraged yell, Dean raced over and slammed the axe into his opponent's back, bellowing a victorious, "Yeah!" as it stuck fast in her back. But a pained scream was all that came from his actions as Monica continued her mental assault on Sam.
Completely out of ideas, Dean flashed back to his youth when his father made him learn an ancient Hebrew prayer by repeating it over and over. Grasping at straws, Dean began to recite the prayer as he took out the vial of holy water. The water sizzled as it landed on Monica's back. Dean covered his ears as her piercing screech echoed in the vast space. Twirling around, her bright blue eyes slowly turned black as she hissed at him. Then, in an instant she was gone, a wisp of smoke hovering where she had just been.
Dean dropped to his knees and placed a trembling hand on his brother's neck. Feeling the steady pulse, he sent a silent prayer to whoever may have been listening. Dean lightly slapped Sam on the cheeks. "Sam. Come on, Sam, time to wake up." Frustration mingled with worry as Dean slapped a little harder. "Sam, come on! We've gotta get out of here."
Wanting to get the both of them out of there as soon as possible, Dean began lifting Sam over his shoulder. He grimaced as his sore body took on the weight of his taller baby brother. Dean tucked the vial of holy water back into his pocket and made his way out into the fading sunlight.
