Title: What Lies Beneath
Author: Michealangela
Rating: T (for some cursing)
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own these guys. :(
A/N: Hello again! So i sincerely apologize for the delay in this next instilment..i was studying abroad and unfortunatly had limited internet access! Trust me...it was brutal! So anyways, while i was stranded from civilization as we know it, i had time to do a little editing and revising to my first two chapters. Please check them out and let me know what you think! I was hoping they maybe sounded a little more..um supernatural-ey? lol...so, without further ado, here is chapter three!
WHAT LIES BENEATH
--CHAPTER THREE—
"Oh fuck." Dean scowled at the pile of discarded matches that now lay scattered on the ground. Every match in the duffle bag had somehow, as if by an act of God himself, managed to get wet. Which, really, considering the way their day was progressing thus far, came as no shock to Dean. They had no matches, and, to top things off, both his and Sam's lighters were out of juice. So much for starting a fire the easy way...
Dean glanced around, scanning his surroundings for anything, anything at all that would produce fire. Evidently, it had been raining a whole hell of a lot the past couple of days. Consequentially, all of the wood that was present around the dock was soaked beyond the point of ignition. Lighting a fire the old fashioned way was out of the picture. Dean continued his ruthless search, his eyes eventually resting upon a small, currently uninhabited cabin that was only about ½ a mile away from the dock. "Yahtzee," muttered Dean as he stood up.
Although he hated the thought of leaving Sam alone on the dock with a pissed off spirit who was hell bent on killing people matching Sam's exact description to a T, Dean knew he needed to find something to start the fire. Without the fire, the spirit would still haunt the lake and people would still die meaning the brothers would still have to stay in this dump of a town. Without the fire, Dean had just trekked his ass all the way out to this god damn lake for absolutely no reason. So, the way Dean figured, leaving Sam alone for a few minutes was a risk he was willing to take. Besides, Sam said Micheal only came out to 'play' pretty regularly on Tuesdays and today was Thursday. It was definitely worth a chance. Plus, the sooner this hunt was over, the sooner they could resume their tedious hunt for the missing Colt.
With that thought in mind, Dean headed determinedly towards the cabin. Even though he kept silently reassuring himself, Dean couldn't help but to glance back every few seconds to check on his little brother who was currently busy covering the dock with the gas and salt. An onlooker would most likely have assumed that Dean had turrets or was just abnormally paranoid about Sam. But to Dean, none of this mattered. When it came to Sam, nothing else mattered. Nothing else in the world. Sam was Dean's responsibility. End of story. Case closed.
Dean climbed the steps onto the front porch and skillfully picked the lock. He had the cabin's main entrance open in a matter of seconds. Being trained in supernatural combat did have its perks after all, thought Dean. With one last encouraging look at Sam, he ducked inside and began his search for anything that would start a fire.
--
Sam continued to douse the dock in gasoline. He stole a quick glance at Dean. Sam could tell that Dean was pretty mad about something judging by Dean's outwardly rough body movements and severely livid expression strewn across his face. Sam watched for a moment as Dean was ripping through their dufflebag and cursing under his breath. Apparently, Dean had lost something. Sam decided it was best not to ask questions, so when Dean simply stuck out the gasoline bottle and container of salt expectantly, Sam took them both and got to work. The last thing he needed right now was for Dean to be really pissed at him too for some god awful unknown reason that would only make sense to Dean.
Sam was working on drenching every last inch of the dock he could find. There was no way in hell he wanted to hike back out to this damn lake with a seriously pissed off Dean by his side. One trip out here had been one trip too many for Sam's liking. Besides that, he wanted to ensure that no one else died because of Micheal's spirit. Three victims had been too many. Inside, Sam's stomach was continuously churning with apprehension. Something about this hunt felt weird. It just felt plain wrong. Although Sam attributed most of this uneasiness to the whole 'I fit the victim profile' business, he couldn't help but feel that he was still missing something. All of his instincts were screaming that something was about to go wrong, terribly wrong. Being raised the way he was had instilled one thing in Sam: Fear was not an option. Fear only led to vulnerability. Vulnerability left one defenseless and apt to err, neither of which Sam cared to be at the moment.
Sam moved on from the gasoline to the salt canister. He started to sprinkle a decent amount of salt evenly on the top of dock. God did he hope he was right about the dock being Micheal's connection to the living. Sam had really only been guessing logically when he suggested it, though he didn't care to share this little tad bit of information with Dean. This whole hunt was centered on this educated guess. But seeing as Dean had no objections to the suggestion and actually agreed with Sam for a change, Sam figured they might as well give it a shot.
When Sam had finished covering the dock with salt, he turned around to check on Dean's progress with his search through the gear. His heart rate spiked when he saw the duffle bag lying solitary, wide open on the ground. Dean was gone. Sam could feel the panic rising, gripping his every nerve. He shut his eyes and began rubbing them as hard as his fingers would allow. This had to be a dream. Scratch that—this was more like a fucking nightmare. Dean wouldn't leave him. Not now, not ever, and especially not in the middle of a hunt. Sam was Dean's reason for living and there was no way in hell Dean would just abandon him in the middle of friggen Wyoming with a malevolent spirit to deal with. No. Dean wasn't like that. Still, Sam couldn't help but feel a little bit alarmed. No, he was clearly envisioning things. Maybe it was the fumes from the gasoline getting to his head. This was definitely not real. Sam closed his eyes and began rubbing them. After a minute or two dragged by, Sam figured he had better rescan the area for his brother. His eyelids rose slowly, easing their way from mere slits to wide open. No. No-no-no-no-no-no! Still no sign of Dean. This was definitely not happening. Sam began to feel his fear taking over as his eyes continuously scanned the vicinity for Dean. Only one thought raced through his mind: Where in the hell was Dean?!
Sam turned hesitantly and faced the lake. His feet were now firmly plastered to the dock, body frozen in fear. He half expected to see his brother floating there dead in the water, just another one of Micheal's victims. No. Sam mentally stopped his brain mid-thought. He couldn't bear to think of such things. He needed Dean as much as Dean needed him. Dean dying was just not an option. But then again, Dean
had never abandoned him before. Sure, Dean had been pretty pissed and yeah, he was having a pretty shitty day but Sam knew Dean better than that. Or at least he thought he did, anyways.
Sam was too absorbed in his concern about Dean to notice the ghastly figure that was now rising out of the water, eyes watching his every move. The figure looked exactly like the man described in the newspaper clipping. His body was charred, as though it had battled fire and clearly came out on the losing end. He was a younger man, mid twenties with dark blonde hair. His face held an expression of pure evil, one that reeked of vengeance and death. Unfortunately for Sam, this spirit had only one thing on his mind: revenge.
Sam remained stationary on the dock, trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. With Dean gone, he had a limited number of options. Sam looked down at the dock. It was still covered in gasoline and salt. All Sam would have to do is ignite it and then this bastard would go straight to hell and Sam could find Dean. Dean… Sam's stomach just dropped at the thought of him. He closed his eyes for a moment to come up with a plan and allow himself some time to calm his nerves.
Suddenly, without warning, Sam gasped as something curled itself around his left ankle and pulled… hard. Sam's legs flew out from under him and he collapsed onto the dock, successfully knocking the wind out of his lungs. His eyes snapped open as his mind tried to figure out what was happening and his lungs attempted to refill with air. That's when it hit him. He was being attacked by Micheal. So much for only attacking on Tuesdays… Sam's mind kicked into gear, trying to formulate a plan that ended in him surviving. Something slimy wrapped around his other ankle and started tugging. This was so not good. Sam's body began to slide along the surface of the dock, slowly progressing towards the lake. Sam tried to desperately feel for something to grasp onto to prevent being sucked into the water. Unfortunately, the salt and gasoline covering the top of the dock were acting as a lubricant, providing a small amount of friction between Sam's body and the wood. Well if that wasn't just a kick in the ass. Sam felt the water begin to seep into his shoes and creep up his legs. Micheal's hands were still securely clasped around his ankles with an airtight grip. Sam's arms continued to flail about as he tried to locate something, ANYTHING, which would stop him from going into the lake. Micheal gripped harder around Sam's ankles and heaved. Sam slipped farther off the dock towards the water. He dug his nails into the wood, cringing as he felt several of them become dislodged as he still continued to slide. Sam's stomach wrenched while fear took hold. As the last part of his body slithered off, Sam's fingers wrapped around the edge of the dock and held on for dear life, mind working hastily to find an escape. But Micheal's grip remained strong, with no sign of relenting in the near future. Time was not on Sam's side.
Sam held tighter to the docks ragged edge. His knuckles were white with fear, his face only mere inches from complete submersion. He could feel his body being drawn under as though the lake were trying to swallow him entirely. He knew that the only remaining link between life and death was his weakening grip. Sam didn't know how much longer he could remain in this dire position but he was sure it could not be more than a few minutes tops. Sam lifted his head in desperation, eyes once again searching frantically for his brother, Dean. If he could find Dean, he would be okay. If he could find Dean, this nightmare would be over. But as he continued to look, no sight of Dean reached Sam's eyes. Sam began to feel Death's eminent grip slowly curling its fingers around his life. He needed Dean. Tears started to blur his vision as his arms started to shake. Nothing but deadly silence pierced through him as he clung to the dock, waiting painfully for death… "DEAN!"
--
Dean took a few steps into the cabin before reaching back and flipping on the lights. He did a once over of the place. There was only one large room and a loft that made up to whole of the cabin. The room was then sectioned off into formal areas. To the immediate right of the door was a small sitting area that consisted of a couch, loveseat, and television. There was a small door to the left of the sitting area, behind which Dean assumed was a bathroom. Behind the seating area was a conventional sized kitchen, complete with a microwave, countertop stove, sink and mini-refrigerator. There were also four fairly decent sized looking cabinets and drawers surrounding these utilities. It was in these cabinets and drawers that Dean figured he would locate some matches or a lighter.
Dean was in the kitchen with a total of three strides. He started first searching in the drawers nearest to the sink. The first drawer he opened contained a series of knives, some eating utensils, and a crap ton of napkins, but nothing that would ignite a fire. After rummaging through the rest of the drawers and coming up empty handed, Dean resumed his search in the four cabinets. His escapade through the first three cabinets proved to be fruitless. Unless he could start a fire with some canned peaches, he would be shit out of luck. Dean eyed in the last cupboard door. He placed both hands on his face and rubbed for a brief moment. Amazing how the fate of people's lives depended on what was behind this flimsy little cabinet door. Finally, deciding he had no more time to waste, Dean pried open the door and peered inside.
Bingo. The cabinet was filled with an assorted variety of fireworks, arsenals, and sparklers. Alongside of these was the prized item Dean was searching for: a box of jumbo-sized matches as well as a lighter. Dean reached out and grabbed the box, opening it and snatching a few matches, placing them safely inside his pocket. Then, a thought occurred to him. Based on the way his day was progressing thus far, he had probably, without a doubt managed to snatch any and all of the matches that were duds. Screw it, thought Dean. He placed the entire box as well as the lighter securely inside his pocket. Scratch that off their shopping list.
Dean was about to close the cabinet door when a label caught his eye. 'Exploding Snaps. Discretely place anywhere such as between the sheets or inside of bags to scare the pants off an unknowing victim! Minor injuries may occur if not used with caution.' This was too perfect. Ever since they were young, Dean and Sam had always had an infamous 'prank week' where each brother would try to outsmart, out scare, or outdo the other. Dean smiled to himself. 'Unknowing victim.' That would be Sam alright. Dean pocketed the box and began inspecting the other labels. Maybe something good could come out of this hunt after all…
"DEAN!!"
Dean's stomach lurched and his heart stopped momentarily. He had just heard Sammy call out his name. It wasn't the fact that Sam had called him that had caused his alarm; it was the tone in which it had been said. If Sam had been looking for him, casually strolling along in search of his location, the call would have sounded different, calmer and more relaxed. But the voice Sammy had just used was one filled with fear and anxiety, a voice that was only employed in serious life-threatening situations. Dean began to panic as an appalling thought occurred to him. He had left Sam alone on the dock of an evil spirit. Sam had no weapon, no defense mechanism. All Dean had armed him with was a plastic bottle of gasoline and a dinky container of salt. It was like dangling a steak in front of a junkyard dog and expecting the dog to just sit there politely and watch. Damn it, thought Dean. He quickly slammed the cupboard shut and raced out of the cabin, not even bothering to relock the front door.
Once outside the cabin, Dean felt his alarm move from slightly nervous to full blown terror. He can make out Sam's 6 foot figure dangling from the edge of the dock, half submersed in water. Shit. He continued sprinting towards the dock, towards his brother. Dean can see Sam's muscles straining. Evidently, something is pulling Sam from beneath the water, something that doesn't seem to want to let go. Dean wills his legs to move faster, watching Sam in trepidation as he can see his grip begin to weaken.
"HOLD ON, SAMMY!" screamed Dean in desperation. "JUST HOLD ON! I'M COMING!"
Unfortunately, the cry was registered a moment too late. Dean watched in horror as Sam's grasp on the dock diminished. NO! Dean's heart was pounding, tears streaming from his eyes as he raced to get to the dock. Sammy's head slipped beneath the surface of the murky water, unable to resist Micheal's firm pull into the darkness…
--
AUTHORS NOTE: So there you have it...chapter three. I hope you like it. Oh and sorry about the cliffy there at the end! I hate to leave you hanging but i couldn't resist. Please review, and, if you have time, don't forget to check out my first two revised chapters. I promise, like really promise!, that i won't take forever and a half to post the next chapter. Thanks for reading!! Reviews are love!