We're nearing the end of this story. I'm glad you guys are still with me.

Chapter 11

When she embraces your heart turns to stone

She comes at night when you are all alone

And when she whispers your blood shall run cold

You better hide before she finds you

Within Temptation – Ice Queen

Lara's family lived in an apartment above the local pharmacy, which was now closed. Only Lara's grandmother was there. The mother had gone into labor earlier that day and had been rushed to the clinic. The husband had joined her.

"She doesn't know, you know," Millie, the grandmother told the two, as she was setting up tea for them – she had insisted on making some, claiming she needed something to do before she lost her mind. "My son knows," she added. "But she hasn't been told yet. I mean, what are we supposed to say? The day you bring one child into the world is also the day you lose another?"

"That's not going to happen, Mrs. Schmidt," Sam insisted firmly. "We have every intention of fining Lara and bringing her safe and sound to her family"

"How did it happen, anyway?" Dean asked. "Do you know?"

Millie sighed. The hand that held the teacup was shaking.

"I was going to pick her up early, you know," she said. "Take her to the hospital as soon as the baby was born. You know, she was actually starting to be excited? Before that, we were afraid she might feel left out, most kids are when they're about to get a new sibling. But she said someone told her it was going to be "awesome"."

Sam's lips quirked upwards. It was easy to figure out who had told her that. He felt amused in spite of the situation when Dean cleared his throat, doing his best to avoid eye contact with him.

"So, when you went to get Lara from school, she wasn't there?"

Millie placed the cup abruptly on the table. It nearly toppled over and Sam reached out a hand to steady it.

"When I arrived at the school Lara's teacher was in a frenzy," Millie said shuddering at the memory. "And she had already called the sheriff. Apparently it had happened about fifteen minutes before I got there. Lara was playing outside during break time. The kids said someone grabbed her. This…figure, they said, with an old-fashioned cloak. Well, some said it was old-fashioned. Others said it looked like a circus thing. Oh, and there was the strangest thing. One of the kids said before grabbing Lara, that person was playing some kind of instrument. Like a flute or something."

Sam and Dean exchanged meaningful glances. Loretta was indeed getting desperate. She must have known she could not use her Pied Piper mojo during daytime.

"Mrs. Schmidt, you've been a great help," Sam told her. "We will get your granddaughter back."

"One more thing," Dean said. "How well do you know Loretta Bracegirdle?"

Millie's face fell.

"You…haven't heard then," she concluded. "We…well, I'm not from Rattigan, you know? I moved here with my husband years ago. My husband had a cousin here, and they were always having these big schemes. They seemed to think they could turn Rattigan into this tourist paradise if they altered it a bit. But for that they needed to buy the hotel. When we moved, my husband said he would start working on the Bracegirdles right away." Millie swallowed harshly. "I didn't know then that he meant "working on the Bracegirdles' daughters"".

Dean frowned.

"What, both of them?"

Millie scoffed.

"They didn't know. Loretta thought she was the one, her sister thought the same. And I thought I had a decent husband. Till I was proven wrong. Loretta took it the hardest, you know. Her sister moved to college almost immediately, but Loretta stayed. For a long time, she could not forgive either me or her sister, although, in truth, the only one to blame was the bastard that thought it was all right to cheat on his wife with two girls old enough to be his daughters. I divorced him, of course. He remained in Rattigan, though. Then, a few years later he had his accident. Fell of a ladder one evening. Loretta reached out to me then."

"And – her sister?" Dean asked.

Mille shook her head, sadly.

"That was tragic, really. She had been away for a long time, had made a life for herself – husband, children, the like. Then she came back to Rattigan for her parents' funeral – they had died in a car crash, see. And I think she and Loretta made up then. But, of course, she died the day after the funeral. An animal attack, they said, although what she was doing in the woods was beyond me."

When Sam and Dean got back to the car they finally had all the pieces to Loretta's story.

"That's what I call some serious soap-opera crap," Dean commented, then added quickly, noticing Sam's arched eyebrow. "Not that I know what soap opera crap looks like."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Of course you don't," he deadpanned. "Because Dr. Sexy is quality television."

"Shut up," Dean told him good naturedly, secretly pleased when he heard Sam snicker.

"So, Lara wasn't just a random victim," Sam concluded, growing serious again. "This is Loretta's final act of revenge."

"Right," Dean grumbled. "Because a kid who wasn't even born when Loretta was wronged is really to blame instead of the cheating douchebag who actually betrayed Loretta. I mean, killing him I get. The rest of it is just spite."

"People are capable of spite, you know," Sam said. "And Loretta was grief-stricken, got herself in a deal she could not understand. I can relate to that."

Dean scowled. He never liked it when Sam looked at the lives of scumbags like Loretta and tried to see parallels with his own. It reminded Dean that he still had a lot to work on if he wanted to rebuild Sam's self-esteem.

"Let's just stow the sympathy for the devil crap for a bit. Tell me one thing – what does Loretta actually do when she feeds? I mean, does she feed on the bad memories, or the fears or what? Because I know she dug through my head a lot and I remember all of it."

He did not look at Sam sensing his concerned glance. There was no way Dean wanted to talk about Loretta riffling through his greatest hits.

"Loretta does not take away your memories, Dean," Sam said at length. "I think she just forces you to relive them so she can feast on the emotions they bring. After all, she focused on Kelsey's fears and on Jim Hayes' too. And the first time she took me, she showed me the future, not the past."

Dean's jaw clenched at the reminder.

"That's what I'm trying to get to, though. Kelsey remembered what had happened to her. So did Jim Hayes. You forgot. Why?"

Sam shrugged.

"If you're looking for a supernatural explanation, you won't find one. I was sick. Huge part of what happened must have been burned by the fever. The rest of it – I sensed it was bad. Dad hinted it was safer not to poke. I thought it was smarter not to remember."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"You must be the only person I know who actually grew out of their sense of self-preservation what with your recent wall-scratching. You were way smarter when you were a kid. Hey, actually, you used to do what you were told, too."

"Only when it came to you," Sam pointed out. "That was one of the few times I actually decided to listen to Dad. I think I only did that because he promised we'd be picking you up as soon as I got better."

xxxXXXxxxxx

Sam opened his eyes trying to blink away the fog in his mind. He did not recognize where he was and could not remember how he had got there. All he knew was that he was alone in a small, impersonal room. Taking in the hard bed, the medical equipment beeping beside him, and how crappy he was feeling, he supposed he was in some kind of hospital. Or maybe a clinic, since it was too quiet to actually be a full-fledged hospital.

He frowned at the rays of sunlight on the floor. It was daylight then. He was sure the last time he had remembered everything clearly it had been evening. Or night. Had it been night?

The most disconcerting thought, though, was that he was alone. Sam had woken up in the hospital plenty of times before, but Dean had always been there, except for the times when he had been hurt himself. Sam felt himself grow cold. Had Dean been hurt? But no, he remembered now. Dean wasn't there at all. He was lost, right? Dad and Bobby had said so. Even to Sam's addled state, that did not make sense. If Dean was lost, why hadn't they been looking for him?

The door to the room opened and John walked in carrying a cup of steaming coffee. His eyes widened when he saw Sam was awake. Shaking his head, he made his way to the bed.

"I was sure you'd still be asleep when I came back," he grumbled. "I wouldn't have left, otherwise. You always have to be contrary, Sam."

John's tone was light and he was smiling slightly, but Sam thought he could detect a trace of concern in his father's voice.

"Why am I here?" Sam asked, slightly alarmed that his throat sounded – and felt – like he had swallowed several fistfuls of broken glass.

John winced in sympathy.

"Yeah, I wouldn't do much talking. You're throat's going to be hella sore for a couple of days."

Sam frowned, trying to piece together the puzzle of what had happened to him.

"Was I sick?" he asked.

John hesitated. He sat down in his chair, drawing it closer to Sam's bed.

"You don't remember?"

If Sam had been feeling better he would have given a snarky reply, since he would not have bothered asking questions if he had remembered anything. But he was sore and confused and his Dad was looking at him as if he could not believe Sam was there, or that he was still Sam, and in their line of work, that was something to worry about.

"What's the last thing you remember?"John pressed on.

Sam tried to think. There were disjointed images in his mind – a forest, rats, fire. But they felt more like nightmare images, fading away as soon as Sam tried to focus on them.

"We were fighting," Sam said, because that was something he was sure of. "At the hotel. I'm sorry."

John huffed, partly in surprise, because Sam rarely apologized unless he was told to do so, partly because he clearly no longer considered the fight important.

"Don't worry," he said. "This time…this time you might have been right. I shouldn't have gone out that evening."

Sam gaped at his father, since John was even less willing to offer apologies, and definitely not to his kids.

"That evening?" he repeated. "You mean last night, right?"

Sam watched as John clenched his jaw, his eyes suddenly misty.

"No," John said clearing his throat. "No, Sammy, that was…that was six nights ago. You've been…you've been ill for a few days. That's why you're in the clinic."

Sam searched his father's face, the worry and regret now easy to spot. For some reason, John blamed himself for whatever had happened to Sam.

"I don't remember anything after the fight," Sam said apologetically.

He was baffled when his Dad – who usually advocated gaining as much information about something as possible, however unpleasant – actually looked relieved at Sam's ignorance.

"Well, Sammy, I don't think you want to remember, really," he said attempting a smile.

Sam tried to protest. He did not like the idea of not remembering. Loss of memories meant loss of control and, even at twelve, that was something unacceptable to Sam. But there was something in his father's face that he had never seen before, and Sam had to wonder if John was grieving for him, or for something else.

"Where's Dean, Dad?" he asked softly."Is Dean all right?"

Something was different in John, and Sam could tell. Whether he was still terrified about almost losing Sam that he was more ready to give in to Sam's demands – or he had simply realized Sam could go off the rails when he did not know where his brother was – he did not dismiss the question this time. He reached out and patted Sam's shoulder.

"Dean's fine, Sam. Actually, tell you what? You rest up and get better, and as soon as the Doc clears you, we'll go get him. How's that sound?"

That sounded awesome. That made lying in that boring room with nothing to do but sleep so much better. Sam was growing sleepy again. He glanced at his father who was sitting in the chair, his attention on some magazine he was reading. It felt oddly comforting. Sam closed his eyes and thought of Dean, and how they would be getting Dean back soon.

As he was falling asleep, a small voice whispered in his ear: What if Dean doesn't want to get back to you? Sam had no idea where the stray thought had come from. But it followed him in his sleep and was still there in his mind a week later, when they met up with Dean.

Sam and Dean had searched for Loretta everywhere they could think of, knowing it would be easier for them if they caught her before the sun set and managed to get Lara safely out of the way before their inevitable showdown with both Loretta and the original Pied Piper.

However, they had come up empty. Even talking to others did not help much. It turned out one could still keep secrets in a small town. The people of Rattigan were suddenly discovering how little they knew about the owner of their local hotel.

Sundown found them back at the summer house. There was still no sign of Loretta. From what Sam and Dean could tell, she had not been there with Lara.

They gathered everything in the room with the coffins and set them in a pile to be salted and burned. Sam was slightly sorry they had to burn the bodies, too. He would have liked to give the children's families something to burry. But that could have come with its own problems, such as more restless spirits in the future, once the dead children were no longer tied to Loretta and the Pied Piper. Like this, Agent Page would be making several calls in the next few days to announce grieving families that their missing charges' bodies had been found and identified, but that, unfortunately, a fire in a small town morgue had destroyed them. At least the families would know for sure then.

He did not say any of this to Dean. He could tell his brother was battling demons of his own. There was a strange, unreadable look as they set fire to the coffin Loretta had prepared for Sam all those years back. A mixture of relief and guilt that broke Sam's heart. He wanted to reach out to Dean again, to remind him that it had not happened. But there would be no point in doing that. Dean would forever be haunted by the what ifs. He would forever be imagining how he would have felt if that terrible outcome had indeed come to pass.

It was fully dark when they were done. They had no idea if burning all that stuff was going to have any effect on Loretta – Bobby seemed to think that burning the pipe was the clincher – but, at least, they would keep it out of anyone else's hands.

"I wish I could burn the whole place to the ground," Dean said glaring at the house, as if it, and not Loretta, had been responsible for Sam's distress years ago.

"I know," Sam admitted, because he, too, felt the visceral need to see the place utterly obliterated. "It would draw too much attention, though. We can't have that until we end Loretta."

A shrill, piercing scream had him stopping mid-sentence. He was running towards it, Dean at his side, even before they had a chance to process what was happening. They were not really surprised that the scream had been heard from the direction of the clearing with the altar.

The scream sounded again, shrill and desperate. It sounded like a child's voice, one that was scared out of their mind. They ran even faster, guns at the ready.

They reached the clearing. Loretta stood there next to the altar, holding a knife to Lara's throat. Vines surrounded the both of them and a shadow seemed to float above the altar. Loretta did not look surprised to see them.

"Hello, boys," she greeted. "Glad you could join us. I was beginning to worry you would miss our little party."

Sam glanced at Dean. They had both drawn their guns, but they could not shoot. Not while Loretta was holding Lara like that. They did not want to risk hitting her.

"Why don't you get away from her?" Dean said. "You've had your fun, we're here. That's what you wanted, right? She was just bait for us. Now let her go."

Loretta tightened her hold on Lara. The girl was looking at them through tear-stained eyes.

"It's not that simple, I'm afraid," Loretta said. "See, I need a final act of revenge. After all, I did not take just any child, did I?"

"We know about Lara's grandfather," Sam said. "We know what he did to you. How he betrayed you. But it's not Lara's fault. She wasn't even born then."

Loretta snorted.

"Her father was, though, wasn't he? He was the son of the guy who had told me he loved me and was ready to give me a family. And then, when I found out he had a real family, he said the reason why we couldn't be together was because he couldn't leave his kid."

"He was lying," Dean pointed out "He was a scumbag who betrayed both you and your sister – and his own family. Whatever beef you had with him, you can't take it out on his granddaughter."

Something flickered in Loretta's face, a trace of hesitation, as if she was not really sure what she was doing. The hand that held the knife was trembling.

"Just let Lara go, Loretta," Sam urged softly. "Please, let her go, and let her get safely back to her family. We can talk after that."

Loretta's eyes narrowed. She tightened her hold on Lara.

"Talk?" she repeated. "You're not gonna talk. As soon as I let her go, you're gonna shoot me."

Sam glanced at Dean. By the look on his brother's face, that was exactly what Dean intended to do. For him, it had become personal the moment he had discovered Loretta's connection to Sam. But Sam hoped Loretta could not see that as well as he could.

"We don't have to shoot you if you don't give us reason to," he insisted. "Let her go, give us the pipe and then…well, we'll take it from there."

Loretta moved closer to the altar, dragging Lara with her. Sam tightened his hold on the gun, searching for a way to get to Loretta without hurting the girl.

"Oh, you want the pipe, do you? What do you intend to do with it? Get rid of it?"

"You know it's for the best," Sam argued.

Loretta shook her head.

"Here's where you're wrong, Sam. It's not. Long ago the Pied Piper taught smug entitled people a lesson they forgot. That story about the children of Hamelin, it's a warning against screwing with decent folks just because you can. When the Pied Piper came to Hamelin, he had every intention of helping the people with their rat problem and then moving on – after he was paid. Only the townsfolk refused to pay. Was he supposed to simply walk away? Or wasn't it better that he showed them exactly what happened to those who did not hold their end of the bargain?"

"That was then," Dean pointed out, taking a step forward. "Things have changed since then. Laws have changed. It's not that easy to mess with people now as it was then."

Loretta gave him a knowing look.

"Isn't it? You mean, you didn't pay your stay with a fake credit card? See – even you screw with honest folk on a daily basis. But it's not that. The world is just as full of entitled people who need to be taught a lesson as it was then. So, I say, let's bring the perfect teacher. With the Pied Piper roaming the world – the real Pied Piper, mind you, and he's ten times more powerful than me – people are going to start thinking twice before they turn into betrayers."

Dean shook his head.

"Lady, I've got to hand it to you, you've got some twisted sense of right and wrong."

Loretta said nothing. She glanced up at the shadow that hovered over the altar. Following her gaze, Sam noticed that it was becoming more solid, gaining power as they stood there trying to negotiate with Loretta.

"Dean," he warned.

He understood now why Loretta had followed their lead and answered their questions instead of simply killing Lara or trying to attack them. She had been biding her time, while the Pied Piper was growing stronger. Loretta met his eyes and smirked.

"Oh, indeed," she confirmed. "He's nearly here. See, I had enough from Kelsey and from the two of you. Even without your memories of Hell, Sam, what you two have is enough to feed the Pied Piper and keep him strong for a long, long time. And that's what is going to happen to you. You'll be his food source in lean times. Whenever he's going to need a boost, he'll come to you. That's how I ensured I wouldn't go down with Rattigan. I needed to deliver you."

"Yeah, well, good luck with that," Dean said.

He pulled the trigger. Not towards Loretta, but towards the altar behind her. Sam had anticipated his move – it paid to know someone so well you could have entire conversations with just one look. As soon as Dean fired the gun, Loretta flinched, her hold on Lara slackening. Sam dove towards Lara at the same time that Dean moved towards Loretta.

Then Sam was pulling Lara away, while Loretta and Dean were engaged in a struggle for Dean's gun. Rats were scuttling around the altar, suddenly confused and directionless, while the shadow of the Pied Piper grew stronger. Lara was screaming and crying, clutching at Sam.

"Cover your ears," Sam urged her, hands tightening on his gun. "It's going to get loud."

He could not shoot at Loretta, she was too close to Dean. Instead, he aimed towards the Pied Piper. He fired. Nothing happened, though. The thing did not even stagger, as if bullets could not hurt it. And then Sam realized in horror it was not a shadow anymore. Whatever Loretta had been planning to do had been accomplished. The Pied Piper was free.

"Dean!" he cried, because the thing was heading towards his brother and towards Loretta, and since Lara was still clinging to Sam, he could not simply dive in and rescue Dean without endangering her.

The loud bang of a gun nearly had his heart stopping. For a moment, he did not know if Dean had shot Loretta or the other way round. There was a flash of light from the crack headstone that momentarily blinded Sam. When it cleared, Lara was still whimpering softly beside him. Several feel away, Loretta was lying on the ground, staring sightlessly at the sky. She was dead. Dean was lying next to her, unmoving. And the Pied Piper was bending over him, completely solid now.

Uhh…I swear I'm not an evil person, really. Just, from a writer's standpoint, I think cliffhangers are really cool. Anyway, I hope to have the final chapter done by Saturday at the latest (maybe earlier, since I hope to work only from home this week). Take care!