Chapter 8

Sam bolted up the stairs, taking two at a time. His heart was in his throat as Judith's screams suddenly stopped, leaving an eerie silence hanging in the air. Breathing hard as he ran into the lobby, the grisly scene that awaited Sam stopped him in his tracks. He had seen a lot of horrible things in his young life, but he couldn't quite believe the absolute carnage that lay before him now. There, on the hardwood floor, in a large, expanding pool of blood, lay Judith's clothes, and what Sam could only guess were the woman's skin and internal organs. Missing completely, however, were her bones.

Gagging at the sight, Sam turned away and attempted to regain his composure. He looked around the deserted lobby, but saw no evidence of an intruder, no bloody footprints. He looked up at the staircase towards Dean's room and he thought he saw some movement along the banister that rimmed the second floor landing. Fear sliced through Sam at the thought that whoever did this to Judith was now heading towards his brother.

Circumventing the large pool of blood, Sam sprinted up the stairs to Dean's room. He stopped in his tracks, though, when he saw his brother in the hallway. Leaning heavily against the door, Dean was breathing hard, his eyes attempting to focus; he showed no sign that he recognized his younger brother. But what scared Sam the most was the blood. Dean's arms and torso were covered in blood, his face smeared with the red substance. Oh, god, Dean!

Sam's momentary shock was broken when he heard Dean moan, and saw him falter as he tried to stay upright. Sam was at his side instantly, supporting him by wrapping strong arms around his sibling's shoulders.

"My god, Dean! What happened? Where's the blood coming from? Where are you hurt?" Sam scanned his brother for injuries, checking beneath the blood-soaked t-shirt for a source.

"S-Sammy? Wha-what happened?" Dean's voice was weak; his hazel green eyes beseeched his brother's frightened brown eyes. Sam's heart was breaking as he witnessed the uncharacteristically docile older Winchester looking as lost and frightened as a child.

"Come on Dean, let's get you inside the room. I need to find out where the blood is coming from." Sam's voice trembled as he maneuvered them through the door. The room felt cold. That wasn't a good sign. The angry spirit was either nearby, or had been there very recently. He quickened their pace as he continued to support Dean, who sagged against him. Sam hooked one arm under Dean's knees and gently lifted his brother's limp body onto the bed.

…….

Kendall entered the lobby cautiously, clutching the tattered journal tightly against his chest; afraid of what he might find this time. The metallic smell of blood was overpowering, and for the second time that night he vomited violently, retching through dry heaves as his stomach clenched again and again. When he had finished, he stood up and moved further into the room. He was terrified. He knew the kind of power and magic that had been unleashed in the castle; that he had unknowingly unleashed when he'd opened the kegs in the cellar. Whatever happens here, this is my fault. Please God, help me.

The innkeeper had to remind himself to breathe as he neared the source of the blood. His heart beat faster as he saw the edge of the pool of dark blood, flotsam of pink foam encircling something at the center of the liquid. As he neared the scene, he realized what he was seeing. Judith! No! He had never seen anything so horrific in his life. His legs gave out beneath him and he dropped into the coppery liquid, his legs, hands and face covered in his wife's blood. The journal fell away, landing nearby on the dry floor underneath the bar.

Kendall was oblivious to the apparition that hovered just above them. But in spite of the rage and grief that warred within him, he could hear the deep, resonating voice inside his head:

I warned you that the umThakati will seek revenge. I could not stop him this time. Your wife gave the boy the antigen that you refused to take. He will be able to fight the angry spirit once he is strong enough. You must help him. I've been sent here to stop this. Your wife is gone. The umThakati has her bones. This makes him even more powerful against all who reside here. There is only one way to stop him. Take the journal to the brothers.

……..

Sam was relieved when he couldn't find a source for the blood on his brother's body. Of course, relieved was a relative term. He was glad the blood wasn't his brother's, but still very concerned about the murder and Dean's unresponsive condition, nonetheless. Sam had managed to wash the stains from Dean's face and arms while the blood had started to dry and crust on Dean's t-shirt. Sam laughed wryly to himself as he gently tugged the shirt up over his sibling's head. Well, bro' looks like I'm going to be dressing you again.

Sam had just tossed the bloodstained Metallica t-shirt into the trash when a loud wailing pierced the silence and set his nerves further on edge. What the hell? Sam rose from the edge of the bed, listening for the sound again, trying to determine the source. Another wail; it sounded like it came from downstairs. Is that Kendall? Oh my god, Kendall. He must have found Judith. Sam hung his head as he recalled the sight of Mrs. Conroy's remains. Where were her bones? The other victims had bled out, but their bones remained. Why take Judith's bones? How?

The younger Winchester knew he had to resume the investigation and he had to return to the lobby to gather information. He didn't want to leave Dean alone again, but he had to discover a way to rid the angry spirit, if that was what they were actually dealing with, before someone else died. He pulled the blanket up around Dean's shoulders and frowned. His brother looked as white as a ghost and it unnerved Sam.

"Hey bro, you better start perking up, or I'm gonna start calling you Casper," Sam spoke softly as his eyes watered and a tear threatened to spill. "I don't know what's going on with you, but I'm gonna figure this out, so just hang in there. Right now, I'm gonna go find Kendall and see what he can tell me."

Sam reluctantly left his brother and made his way down to the lobby, to find Kendall on his hands and knees in his wife's blood, which had now taken on a sickly sweet smell as it began to congeal. Sam shut his eyes against the sight. He could literally feel Kendall's pain, and it hit him full force as he watched the grief-stricken man.

"Mr. Conroy? Kendall?" Sam called softly, not wanting to startle the man.

He received no response. The innkeeper continued to stare at his wife's remains and wailed mournfully again. Sam watched sympathetically for a moment and then reached inside the pocket of his jacket for his cell phone. He scanned his phone book and pressed a speed dial key.

After what seemed like forever, but was only three rings, a familiar voice answered and Sam sighed in relief.

"Bobby, this is Sam. I need your help."