I shoot upright on the bed as the memory whirls through my head like a hurricane. I scrunch my eyes closed against the impending headache. I don't realize I'm gasping for breath, or that there is sweat beading on my brow until Sam lays a calming hand on the top of my head. I didn't even know he was back in the room with me. He gently pushes me back on to the mattress and he's murmuring soothing words that I can't quite make out. It's strangely comforting and for a moment I can believe that the world is a safe, happy place. Only for a moment though. The memories vying for first place in my head are disturbing and frightening and, frustratingly, incomplete. It takes me a few minutes to get my breathing back under control and I focus on Sam's hand on my head in an effort to subdue the panic in my chest. Slowly the words he's muttering make their way through my muddled brain.
"It's okay, Dean. You're okay. You're fine. It's finished." over and over and over. Obviously my memories are freaking him out too. Finally I feel able to open my eyes and there he is, hovering over me, keeping watch like a guardian angel I never asked for or wanted. I want to knock his hand away but I can't muster up the energy. Maybe words will work just as well, you never know.
"Get off me, Sam." His hand stills, resting lightly where it is but not being removed.
"You back with me?" Yeah, I'm back, Sam, and I'm in desperate need of the bathroom. The sweat is drying on my skin and I feel dirty and worthless. I need to wash away the futility of my being, need to cleanse myself of the failure I know I am.
"Help me up, dude." God, I think I'm going to need his help after all. He finally moves his hand from my head and takes a firm hold of my shoulder to ease me up, slowly and carefully. The room settles into one place quickly and I don't think the headache is going to come to fruition. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, catching Sam on his shin. He sucks in a little breath but says nothing. Once my feet are on solid ground I ease myself awkwardly forward. I'm already looking forward to getting rid of this damn cast. I shrug out of his hold and haul myself upright. The rooms sways briefly, righting itself before Sam notices my hesitation and I manage to make it to the bathroom unaided.
By the time I'm done, Sam is reclining on his bed, head buried in the local paper. As I get nearer to him, I notice he's checking out the travel section.
"Sam?" It doesn't take more than a raised eyebrow and a quizzical voice to put a sheepish look on his face.
"I thought we could take some time out," he admits. "You're not up to much for the next couple of months and it's been, well, y'know…" he trails off into an uncharacteristic silence.
"No, Sam. I don't know," I hate to admit it but although I'm getting bursts of memory it's still not all there. I know that I didn't like Furst, I know that Jed was trying to hide something from me, I know that Millie is dead because of me and I know that, according to Sam, it's finished. Whatever 'it' was. Sam looks at me and his eyes are full of confusion.
"I thought you were remembering?"
"I am, Sam. Just, not enough." I sigh. Wisps of images are floating around the edges of my mind and I can grasp some of them while others hover, temptingly, just out of reach. Sam is there but I can never see his face. Millie is there, by the water and there, just behind her is something I can't quite make out. It's not human but not quite animal either. Or at least I don't think it is. I can't see it properly. I know whatever it is, it's what we were looking for and I'm guessing that when Sam says 'it's finished' this is what he's talking about.
Obviously Sam thinks I've sunk into a depressive silence because he leans forward and pokes me on the knee.
"Hey," I snap back to attention. "It's late. We should get some sleep." And there it is – the infernal mother hen has come out to play. Although, if truth be told, I am having trouble keeping my eyes open now. Maybe in the morning there'll be more pieces of the puzzle to put in place. Or maybe not. We'll have to wait and see. So I grunt at Sam, don't want him to think I'm giving in too easily, and fall into bed. Sleep isn't far away.
Furst stumbles till he drops to his knees in the water. I'm still yelling at him to get out. He raises his arms and I stop screaming at him. He's taking no notice of me and there's nothing else I can do. There's no way in hell I'm going near the water. Not with that thing in there, waiting to pounce.
I fumble for my phone. I need Sam down here right now. I'm not prepared for this. For the first time I wonder if I should have run off like that. Millie would have been alright and Sam probably has that steel knife safely tucked away in his jacket. What I wouldn't give for that right now. All I have is my .45 and that's as much use as a soggy pancake against this.
The water is starting to churn and foam. I feel my heart rising in my throat. I know what's coming. I know Furst isn't going to be a problem for Millie, or me, for much longer. I can't help him. All I can do is hope it's quick for him. Part of me is screaming to go and drag him out of the water, out of danger's reach, but my sense of self preservation is holding me back.
The water is rising and there it is. My heart stops. This is the first time I've seen it and it takes my breath away. I'm in awe of it's magnificence. Water cascades down its silky black mane as it tosses its head. Spray dances off its back as it shakes itself down and its black eyes fix on Furst. And I know it's over for him.
I'm so transfixed by what's happening in front of me that I don't hear the branches snapping behind me until it's too late. I feel the cold metal barrel of a gun against the back of my neck. I react instinctively, twisting to get out of the iron grip I'm in. I'm at a disadvantage though and I can't do it. The gun is rammed harder against my skin and I can't stop a little cry escaping. I feel hot breath caressing my ear.
"What are you doing here?" It's hard to distinguish above the roar of the water and the pounding in my ears but I think it's Jed. I'm not going to grace him with a reply but continue to struggle against his hold. I know, deep down, I'm asking for trouble but surely he can see there are more important issues at hand here?
Suddenly he jerks me to my feet and I'm stunned by the sight in front of me. Furst has stopped making any noise and the water is as still as a mirror. He's holding his hand out to the horse which nuzzles him as gently as a kitten. He strokes its nose and it buries its mouth in his hand as though he were feeding it. He turns to look at me, pure disdain dripping from his every pore.
"What? You thought it would kill me?" he sneers. I've stopped struggling but I have nothing to say. I really, honestly cannot believe what I'm seeing. This is a kelpie, for God's sake. They're amongst the most malevolent creatures known. Sam spent hours teaching me the ins and outs. He wanted to be prepared, wanted to make sure we weren't taken in by it's shape shifting capabilities. Looks like this one's happy to remain in it's 'natural' state.
There's a sudden change in Furst's demeanour. At first I think he's wrong about the kelpie but then I notice he's looking past me and Jed. My big brother instinct tells me that we've got company and it's the company I could have done with ten minutes ago. A little late to the party, Sammy, but at least you're here now.
And, damn it, he's not alone. I hear a sharp intake of breath, followed by a faint, "Richard?" I'm furious with Sam. What the hell was he thinking, bringing Millie with him? Could he have had a worse idea? Jed is obviously thinking the same thing because he's pulling me round to face Sam and Millie. He takes about a millisecond to decide that Sam's gun is the bigger danger here because he shifts his grip from the back of my collar to across my throat. I'm effectively being used as his shield and the gun is now grazing the side of my head.
On the plus side, I now have a front row seat for the show that's unfolding in front of me. Sam has pushed Millie behind him and is standing tall and imposing, gun held rock steady in his hand. His eyes flicker between Jed and Furst, trying to establish who is the bigger threat. He settles on Jed and his aim shifts slightly to cover him. I know Sam doesn't have a clear shot at him, he's been too crafty for that, but maybe it'll unnerve him enough so he'll make a mistake. I can feel Jed's chest rising and falling against my back and I can tell from the change in his breathing that Sam's made the right call. The big man is getting anxious. I don't think he was expecting this turn of events. We can work with this.
"Let him go, Jed." That's my Sam. I'm proud of the determination in his voice. It's his 'not taking any crap' voice. That boy can be downright scary when he puts his mind to it. Jed's not the sharpest knife in the drawer though and I feel him shake his head.
"Why would I do that?" He really needs an answer to that? Because if you don't, Sammy here is going to blow your head off. He tightens his hold round my neck, forcing my head up. Sam's eyes are seeking mine out now and I read the question in them.
"Take the shot, Sam," I'm okay with that because this asshole is seriously pissing me off now. And because I know Sam won't do it. But Jed doesn't.
Just when I think there's a way out of this, Millie pops out from behind Sam and throws everything into disarray.
The blinking lights of the clock on the wall tell me it's 5.17am. I must have needed to sleep more than I realised. Sam is snoring gently and I don't want to wake him. The dream that woke me has left me shaken and slightly sick. It's all coming back to me – Millie, Furst, Jed, Sam. And the kelpie. The room is suddenly stifling, the air is pushing at me till my head feels like it's going to explode. I need to get out, I need to get away from here. I can't explain the rationale behind it, but I need to go to the river bank. I know I can't drive and the walk from here is too far. I'm going to have to wait for Sam but somehow I don't think he's going to understand this compulsion I have to go back to where Millie died.
I take the time to have a good look at him. He's got one arm flung over the edge of the bed, fingers grazing the carpet, foot sticking out from under the blanket. His face actually looks peaceful. There's a slight smile on his lips and I wonder what he's dreaming of. It's been a long time since I've seen that look on his face. Once upon a time he slept like that every night. Before the nightmares, before Jess.
I try not to disturb him as I quietly open the door to the room, grabbing my jacket in the process. It closes behind me with a gentle click. Normally Sam would be up like a shot at the noise but there's no noise, no shuffling coming from the other side so I guess he's as shattered as I am.
The early morning air is cold and sharp. I pull my jacket round me as best I can and settle myself on the shallow step to watch the sunrise. My breath mists in front of my face and I spend a few minutes watching the clouds issuing from my mouth and nose, wondering what shapes I can make. I try to make smoke rings from the vapour and when that doesn't work I pretend to be a steam train, just for a few seconds. The sun is slowly making its way over the horizon, turning the sky into pink candyfloss and I think that perhaps I should take more time to appreciate what nature has to offer. Sam and me? We spend so much time chasing after the supernatural that it's sometimes hard to remember that there are good things in the world too. I don't think Sam has ever completely lost his childlike wonder at the world, but me? I can't remember ever not knowing that there was evil out there.
I don't know how long I've been out here but it doesn't seem to be as cold as it was and the sun is almost fully up. Suddenly a steaming mug of coffee appears in front of me and, God, I must be really off my game to have not even noticed Sam behind me. I accept it silently and his fingers brush my hand as I take the cup. His hands are warm, or may be I've been out here so long I just can't feel my own any more.
He settles himself companionably next to me on the step, wrapping both hands around his own coffee. He blows on the steaming liquid before lifting it to his lips. I turn my head away from him, not really wanting to break the peace, but questions are popping up left, right and centre in my head. If I don't get the answers to some soon I think my head might just split open.
"Hey, Sam?" he casts a sideways glance at me.
"What?" Don't sound so worried, Sammy. I'm not going to put you through the Spanish Inquisition here. Just need some help to fill in a few of the gaps.
"Why did you bring Millie?" His whole demeanour changes instantly. It's like his life force has left home. He turns his gaze on the sky and he's silent for, oh, so long. Just as I'm beginning to worry, he sighs and drops his head.
"She insisted," he tells me. "I didn't want her to come but …" and he trails off. It doesn't matter though. I know Millie did what she wanted and everyone else be damned. I'm sure Sam put up a good fight but he's never been that good with distraught women and I bet she played right into that. "She was going to go after you anyway, Dean. With or without me. What could I do?" And the answer to that is 'nothing'. There would have been absolutely no stopping her. Sam's feeling guilty but he was on a damage limitation exercise by bringing her with him. And that is something I can completely understand. I just wish I had it in me right now to make him feel better about his decision. I wish I could pull myself out of this pit of despair I find myself in.
"I'm sorry, Sam," It's not much but I need to give him something.
"For what?" he sounds genuinely puzzled. I mull the words over in my head. There are so many things I'm sorry for here. I'm sorry I ran off without thinking, I'm sorry I didn't stop Furst going in the water, I'm sorry I let Jed get the drop on me, I'm sorry you had to bring Millie and I'm sorry I got her killed.
"I'm sorry for everything, Sammy, really sorry."