Somnambulist Sammy

Chap. 1 Grip of The Ghost

Dean sped the Impala down the dark road. Tonight, he was in a good mood for once. He and Sam had dined at a roadside restaurant that evening before taking off, where he had enjoyed the best hamburger. Now he felt as if he could take on the world—and all the monsters in it. And that was a good thing, because he and Sam were headed to investigate a vacant house rumored to be haunted.

Dean glanced briefly over at his brother. Sam was hunched over in the seat beside him, eyes narrowed, expression serious, intently studying the screen of his phone.

"Hey," the younger man said presently.

"Yeah?"

"Found out more on our haunting. Looks like a man and his wife lived at the house about a month ago. He was found dead in the yard. The wife moved out not long after. But apparently, the ghost sightings didn't start till after all that."

"Uh-huh." Dean nodded in understanding. "You think the husband's our ghost?"

Sam shrugged. "Best I can come up with right now."

"Might need to talk to the wife if possible."

"Yeah."

Eventually, they had reached the deserted property. There stood a house surrounded by what looked like rose bushes, although it was hard to tell in the moonlight.

"Dean. Look." Sam pointed at a low window. The light mysteriously flickered on, then blew out.

"Someone's home, apparently." Dean grinned. "Alright, restless spirit, here we come."

The brothers entered with caution as they always did, guns pointed out in front of them. Sam soon lowered his gun and wielded his trusty EMF detector. The device began wailing right away.

"Well, there's definitely activity here, that's for sure."

Dean switched on the light. The dining room before them appeared ordinary, except all the furniture was covered with white sheets. The siblings circled the room searching for any clues.

Suddenly, Sam whirled around. Out of the corner of his eye, he could've sworn he'd just glimpsed a shadowy cat rush by and head up the stairs.

"Hey…." Sam stepped forward and glanced back at his older brother. "I think I just saw a cat."

"Don't know what a feline would be doin' here; there's no one to feed it."

"Could be wild and it got in somehow." There had been something about the passing creature that had piqued Sam's interest. It had almost looked…translucent. Curious, Sam started towards the staircase and jogged up the steps. Dean remained below, lifting sheets and searching cupboards.

Upstairs, Sam scanned the hallway for the cat, but he saw nothing. There were several doors. One of them was slightly open. He decided to try that one. He turned on the light. Inside was a bed covered in a sheet, along with a dresser and a wardrobe. No sign of any see-through kitty here. But perhaps he could find something that would help them in their case…

Seconds later, Sam was rummaging in the dresser drawer. Empty and ordinary. Hey, but wait a minute… A compartment in the far back… Sam reached with his fingers until he'd grasped the extra slot and pulled it forward. Ahhh… There was a box inside filled with photographs. Sam flipped through them. They were very old photographs, brown-and-white. Some were of families and others were of couples. Sam noticed that the same man popped up in two of them, but in each, a different woman sat beside him. Gradually, the pictures switched to being in color until he'd reached what looked like present-day photographs of a smiling couple. Sam vaguely guessed that they must be of the man who had died in the yard of this house and his wife. He stashed the photos in his pocket.

All at once, the lights flickered and went out.

Plunged into total darkness, Sam looked about him. He heard what sounded like a faint moaning sound. His instincts immediately went on high alert. Slowly, he headed towards the door, feeling his way.

Suddenly, ice-cold hands clutched his back! Sam yelled as he was violently shaken, then thrown towards the wall. He turned a somersault before his legs hit the plaster paint.

Sam squeezed his eyes up in pain, but he knew he must get up. Whatever had attacked him—

A grotesque, twisted woman's face shoved itself next to his. Her ghostly hands gripped Sam's cheeks before he could make a move. She began feeling his face, then clutched his head on either side. For some reason, Sam could not tear himself away even though he desperately wanted to. It was as if the ghost had power over him simply by her touch. Sam felt woozy as his head began to go numb. It was almost as if something were seeping into his brain from the spirit's fingers…

Dean had heard the commotion above his head. He had heard his brother cry out.

"Sam!" He immediately raced up the staircase, gun in hand.

Strangely, all was still when he reached the hall. Dean spotted a door that was ajar and rushed inside.

A ghostly woman knelt beside Sam, who was huddled on the floor. Her hands encircled Sam's thick, sleek head of hair.

"Hey!" Dean fired a salt-laced shot. The malignant spirit faded and disappeared. Temporarily, Dean knew. But at least she was gone for now.

Dean hurried over to his brother. "Are you okay?"

Sam didn't respond. His eyes were closed, his head lolled back against the wall.

Dean's heart plunged for a moment. "Hey! Hey…" He patted Sam's cheeks. They were cold, very cold. Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair. "Sammy…?"

At that moment, Sam mumbled, his eyes still shut: "Sammy see, Sammy do."

Huh? That was a little odd. But Dean was just glad his brother seemed to be waking up. For a moment there he had been very scared… He chuckled. "Heh, I think it's monkey see, monkey do, man. You okay?"

"Uhhhh…" Sam shifted his head from side to side. Slowly, he cracked his eyes open. He looked at Dean, his gaze misty. "Dean?"

"Hey."

"Mmm…What happened?"

"The ghost tangled with you."

"W-what ghost…? My head feels cold. Like, really cold." Dean watched with concern as Sam began to tremble in every limb.

Sam gasped and blinked rapidly. His eyes rolled back into his head.

"Woah, hey." Dean pulled his brother against him, wrapping both arms round him. He hugged him tight, trying to still his tremors. Whatever was wrong? What was happening? Dean was frightened. The word seizure sped through his mind, but he tried not to think of that.

Sam's entire body quaked for one long minute. Finally, he stilled, opened his eyes, and heaved an exhausted sigh. "I'm okay," he whispered huskily.

"You sure? That didn't look okay." Dean finally let go of his younger brother, but he kept an arm around his shoulder.

"No, I—I'm fine. I just…had a bad brain freeze for a moment. That ghost's hands were like ice on my head."

"It was like you went crazy hypothermic on me," Dean said. Still, he was glad that Sam could now remember what had happened and was speaking clearly. He had seemed pretty out of it before.

"I think we've done enough here for the night. If nothin' else, now we know for sure this place is haunted. And not by the dead husband either." Dean stood and helped Sam to his feet. "I'll just sprinkle some salt around to try to keep our spirit at bay."

"Tomorrow we're gonna need to ask around and talk with people," Sam declared.

"Roger that."

Back on the night roads in the Impala, Dean glanced over at his brother. Sam's head was slanting slightly to the side. He usually sat upright.

"You doing okay?"

Sam nodded quietly. "Just a little headache."

Dean shook his head and grinned. "Leave it to you to go after a strange cat and find nothin' but trouble."

Sam narrowed his brows stubbornly. "Hey, I did find something of interest up there. A box of old photographs I brought along. They might hold some clues." He began to dig in his pocket.

"Tomorrow, Sam. We can look at 'em tomorrow."

Sam sighed.