Samantha: Ok, so life has been a little hectic lately.
Deana: Are you kidding me? Hectic? You're on freaking holidays!
Samantha: I've been on holidays for only three days, unless you count Friday.
Deana: Whatever helps you sleep better at night!
Samantha: But not everyone can write wonderful stories, mine just take a little longer...ok, nope, can't say that with a straight face, I'm lazy.
Deana: Damn right you are, you guys should see the spelling before it goes through meā¦and sadly I think occasionally I miss things.
Samantha: just because I suck at spelling...-glares- just read the story, I would quite like to talk to my sister -force smile-
CHAPTER 8:
Sam crawled along the corridor, his dry skin flaking as he dragged it along the stones. He had thought himself strong, had thought he could withstand anything.
It was so easy to think that when he was safe with Dean promising no harm would come to him.
Tears came to his eyes as they no longer did for physical pain. Hours had passed and still he held strong, nothing would break him while Dean was coming.
Then they seemed to lose interest, he was thrown into a small, bare stone room and they left. He hadn't seen or heard a thing of the girl, Sarah, or Jessica, in her older form. But the parents would pass by the door on occasion, fleshless faces pressed against the bars as eye-less sockets stared and bony mouths hung open.
Sam lived those hours in fear, fearing the girl would return to him, or, perhaps more so, that her uses for him had been exhausted and he would soon become the parents plaything. A living prey in a horrible game of cat and mouse.
As he watched the sun set he knew, knew he could not stay any longer, knew he could wait no longer for Dean. For all he knew Dean could be dead, lying in the car park stone cold with his back against his beloved car...dead from wounds Sam had as good as caused.
He shook his head, Dean wasn't dead, he couldn't be, wasn't lying there, Dean was a hunter not prey and he was also a survivor, he would survive. And so would Sam, Sam would survive, if only to know that Dean was alright, to tell him that he hadn't meant any of it, and that he loved him and he was the best big brother Sam could or would ever have.
The night was coming and Sam was becoming more and more nervous. The girl still hadn't appeared and the insistent clicking of the parents footsteps was becoming more urgent.
Sam needed to get out and he needed to get out soon. Preferably before he became living zombie bait.
Silence descended on the room as the footsteps echoed away down the corridor. A creak interrupted the unheard still as the hefty oak door swung open. Sam stood slowly on unwilling legs and trembled his way to the door.
"Hello? Sarah? Jessica?" His voice echoed through the cave, interrupted only by the occasional drip of water. Ok, this wasn't good; his uses had obviously run out. She wasn't that stupid, she knew who his family was; she knew a lot more than that, and in telling Sam that she had given away more than she wanted to, or perhaps only what she wanted to.
She was very clever, too clever to let Sam live, she had told him all in an attempt to frighten him, now that it hadn't he had no more use. He still didn't know his part in things but for now it seemed it was over, though what fiendish uses other than zombie food his body might be put to he didn't wish to consider.
He stood carefully holding his side; obviously the cavalry was a little late in its arrival.
"Come on Dean, where are you?" Sam tried to sit again and found that his side was stiffening up a little, and getting very painful to move. The footsteps outside the door faded and Sam looked up, surprised by the sudden lack of sound. The eerie silence was broken by the theatrical creaking of rusty hinges.
"Having water in caves mixed with metal hinges is not a good idea." He decided as he hobbled towards the door.
"If I'm going to die anyway I might as well die in a heroic bid to escape." His voice broke the monotony of drops from the roof.
"Run Sammy, you're brother's coming, I wonder if he'll be fast enough?" The creepy voice of Jessica, the older sister of Sarah who had spent the previous hour trying to figure out how much he would bleed, echoed through the passages.
Sam ignored the taunting tone and continued hobbling through the creepily silent corridors towards the quickly lessening light.
---TBC---
Read and review.
