CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"Pull over."
"Why?" Sam exclaimed, his eyes darting to the rearview.
"I gotta piss."
Sam sighed and his shoulders slumped. "Why the hell didn't you go before we left the motel?"
"Because I didn't have to go then, Dad," Dean argued. "Just pull the damn car over. It'll take five seconds, for fuck's sake."
Sam glanced at Janelle, who gave no indication she was even listening. Reluctantly, he let off the gas, pressed on the brake instead and pulled onto the side of the road, producing dust all around the car. "Five seconds, Dean," he advised.
Dean held up his first and middle fingers. "Peace," he remarked, kicking open his door. He watched from the corner of his eye as Sam shook his head and buried his face in his hands. As fast as he could, Dean ripped open the front passenger door and grabbed hold of Janelle. "Come with me, sweetheart," he said, shoving his hands beneath her arms and extracting her from the car.
"No!" Janelle squealed, clawing at the seat and door. "Sammy, help!"
Dean ignored the stab in his heart at Janelle's pleas for Sam's assistance and continued to drag her across the open field of grass. He didn't hear his little brother jump out of the car and run around the front without closing his door.
"Dean! What the hell are you doing?" Sam shouted.
"My job, Sam," Dean replied, setting Janelle's feet on the ground and then forcing her to her knees. She didn't put up much of a struggle after that, probably figuring Sam would rescue her, or Dean would hit her again.
"This is bad," Janelle whispered, her eyes surveying the open field and the bundle of trees behind them.
"Yeah, tell me about it," Dean chided.
"Dean, have you lost your fucking mind?" Sam screamed, running toward them.
"Sam, stay the hell away from here!" Dean commanded, pointing at him. "If anything happens to me, you'll need to get her to New Mexico."
"Dean, this is crazy!" Sam squeaked, his hands brushing through his hair as he regretfully came to a stop, closer to the car than he was to Dean and Janelle.
Dean whipped out the book from behind him and held it up to Janelle's face. "You see that?" He wasn't talking to Janelle. If it took taunting to bring that bastard out, he'd do it. "Bet you thought we wouldn't find that, didn't you?"
"What is that, Dean?" Sam demanded to know.
"This is what Janie was digging for at the motel," Dean said, for the first time turning his head to look at Sam. "Elathan has his own fucking exorcism rite."
"This is bad, Dean," Janelle whimpered, grabbing onto his uninjured arm and gazing hard into his unrelenting eyes. She sniffed and tears fell from her eyes. "We should leave. Please?"
"I'm doing this for you, Janie," Dean reminded, lifting one of her hands to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. "It's always been for you." He dropped her hand and slipped his arm out of her other hand and then opened the book to the correct page.
"Dean, m-maybe we should listen to her," Sam suggested. "I mean, she-she could be right. This has to be a bad idea."
Dean ignored him, holding the book up close enough so that his tired eyes could read the words. He took a deep breath, glancing at Janelle one last time before beginning. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica."
"Janelle?" Sam ventured, upon noticing her eyes closed and her arms hanging limply at her sides. The wind picked up dramatically, and Sam's eyes wandered around curiously.
"Eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia," Dean continued, taking Janelle's silence as a good sign. "Ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguine redemptis …"
"Oh, Dean Winchester," Janelle's voice took flight on the wind, which was rushing now with resemblance to a tornado, and dark clouds had formed above them. Her eyes opened to a familiar red and she smirked. "You think you are the all-knowing man, don't you?"
Dean's eyes widened and his mouth clamped shut.
"Why is it speaking English?" Sam breathed incredulously.
"N-non ultra audeas," Dean went on; though it was clear he'd been thrown. "Serpens callidissime …"
"You should have listened to sweet Janelle," Janelle said, rivers of red tears streaking her already-soaked cheeks. "Poor, sweet, innocent Janelle."
"Why her?" Dean suddenly inquired.
"You ignorant fool," Janelle growled. "You still think this is about her."
"It's not about her?" Dean said. "What the hell does that mean?"
Janelle's crimson eyes narrowed and her malicious smile widened. "You should have listened," she repeated, glancing knowingly at Sam.
Dean blinked and from the corner of his eye saw something black, something quick. Something he couldn't find after looking up.
"Dean!" Sam unexpectedly screamed, his usually calm and collected voice infiltrated with fright.
Dean spun around just in time to see a beast – all teeth and hair and height – grab Sam from behind and sink his God-awful crooked teeth into his baby brother's shoulder and neck.
"Sam!" Dean screeched, dropping the valuable book and running over to the sickening display near his car and the side of the road. "Hey!" He grabbed the animal's attention, knowing he wouldn't be able to defend himself should the monster come after him, but better him than Sammy. How could he not be packing? He always had some sort of weapon on him, but he hadn't thought about it today because of Janelle's episode … Shit. Was all of this planned?
The creature stared Dean down for several moments, holding Sam's lifeless body in his arms as if he were a treasure. Dean's teeth clenched – Sammy wasn't anybody's treasure. He was just about to take his chances with the beast when the thing dropped Sam and ran off.
Dean had never wanted to kill something so badly, but right now Sammy's injury was far more important. He ran to his brother's aid, falling to his knees immediately, and let out a surprised and painful gasp. Sam was bleeding profusely from the amazing wound in the curve between his neck and shoulder and he was squirming with pain, unable or uninterested in vocally displaying his misery.
"Sammy?" Dean breathed, his hands hovering over Sam's chest. He was afraid to actually touch him and bring him more agony. "Sammy? Can you hear me?"
"It killed me," Sam whispered, his words barely audible by his big brother. "It fucking killed me, Dean."
"No, it didn't," Dean growled. "You're gonna be fine." He looked into Sam's eyes. "We've been through worse, haven't we?"
Sam's eyes glazed a bit. "No."
Dean gulped, knowing he was right. None of the Winchesters had endured such an injury; such a bite. He left Sam's side momentarily to retrieve the first aid kit from the trunk even though they both knew it wouldn't do much good. Sam needed a doctor, or a healer, or he would most certainly die.
"Just calm down, Sammy," Dean coaxed, brushing his fingers through Sam's hair. Of course it would take such an accident to bring them closer together. "Everything's gonna be all right."
"Dean," Sam whimpered, grasping his brother's hand. Their fingers were slick with blood after Dean had covered Sam's gaping wound with a smallish towel.
"I'm gonna get you to the car, Sam," Dean interrupted, not entirely sure what he was even saying, "And we're gonna find a hospital, okay?"
"Dean," Sam repeated, tightening his grip on Dean's hand. "I don't wanna be one of those things." Dean looked at him. "I'd rather die than be one of those things," he growled angrily.
Dean opened his mouth to answer when he suddenly noticed Janelle crawling toward them. Her eyes were no longer red, but the streaks had stained her hollowed cheeks. She carried the book with her and set it down next to Sam's head before reaching over Sam's body to Dean's neck. She grabbed at the amulet, yanked it off, and held it up.
"Help," she said pointedly.
Dean didn't even bother wasting time kicking his own ass for not remembering the very reason he'd received the charm, and he held it tightly in his hand, closing his eyes, angling his face toward the clearing sky, and howled, "Mercy!"
"You prayin' for me now?" Sam dryly chuckled, but the laugh caused him to choke and splutter as blood made its way out of his mouth and down his cheek. His brother ignored him by bowing his head, whispering words Sam couldn't understand.
"Shh, Sammy," Janelle breathed, crawling around his head to lie down on the ground beside him. She tucked her head into the uninjured side of his neck.
"Janelle, get away from there," Dean commanded, but Sam's hand tightened on his.
"She's warm," Sam forced out, bringing to light the magnitude of his trauma by slightly losing his voice.
"Are you cold?" Dean asked, scrambling to collect his leather jacket from the backseat, which he threw over Sam's midsection and Janelle's as well. He continued applying pressure to his little brother's massive wound and he winced when Sam groaned and squirmed with pain.
"I'm gonna bleed to death," Sam whispered.
"Oh, yeah?" Dean shot back, squeezing Sam's bloody hand with his own. He refused to notice just how cold Sam had become so quickly. "I didn't realize you were a med student, Sammy," he went on. "I thought you were gonna be a damned lawyer."
"It's Sam," Sam whispered so softly, his eyes fluttering closed against his pale cheeks.
"Hey," Dean yelled, smacking Sam's cheek repeatedly until his brother's eyes opened again. "Law school, right?"
"Law school," Sam reluctantly replied.
"Not med school?" Dean asked, staring with disdain at the soaked towel.
"No, not med school."
"Then we both agree that you, little brother, are in no position to be makin' your own medical diagnosis," Dean smiled.
"He's so tired," Janelle cried, fisting a hand in Sam's shirt and burying her face in his shoulder.
Sam glanced at Janelle's white hair, bringing up his left hand – the one he could still feel – to the back of her head. "It's okay, Janie," he breathed.
"It's not time to see Jessica," Janelle stammered. "It's not!"
Sam's dry, cracked lips smiled sadly as he looked up at Dean. "I think she's wrong," he stated.
Dean tilted his head and was about to refute that statement when there was another rush of wind, which would have been frightening after everything that had just happened, but then he caught the scent the wind carried: blood and roses. And relief washed over him like never before.