Chapter 13

"I want to see my brother. Now." Sam spoke low, but threateningly through clenched teeth. Bobby laid a hand on his shoulder, attempting to calm the young hunter, who was tensed and ready to fight.

"You will follow us." Two large, iridescent orbs appeared to dance into Sam's line of sight.

Sam turned to Bobby and frowned. "Gee, I guess this is the part where I ask it if he's a good witch or a bad witch." Sam's voice held no humor as he said it, and he turned back to follow the orbs down the dark hallway; Bobby following protectively, taser in one hand, shotgun in the other.

They entered a darkly lit, dank, cavernous room, which Sam figured was adjacent to the wine cellar. It was, however, devoid of any kegs or barrels. Sam's eyes were drawn to the middle of the room, where he saw Dean struggling unsuccessfully to sit up from his prone position on the concrete floor. Sam was beside his brother in three long strides, dropping by his side to help support him into a sitting position; resting Dean's back against his chest. He gasped as he took in the bruises and burns on his brother's torso. Dean struggled to take in a breath as he shivered against him.

"Dean! What did they do to you?" Sam was choked with emotion to see his brother so weak.

Dean sagged against his brother's chest and spoke in a whisper... "Sam ― Sammy? Is that you? Are you real?"

Bobby stood nearby, concern and anger playing across his features as he watched the two brothers. Sam's expressive eyes looked worriedly into Dean's unfocused gaze as he gently turned his brother's face toward him.

"Yeah Dean, I'm here, you're going to be okay." He said softly as he held his brother's face in one hand, supporting him with the other. Sam looked up at the orbs, which hovered directly above them, his expression turned hard and angry.

"What the fuck did you do to him?"

"He will be fine. He is gathering his strength even as we speak. Soon he will have the strength of all the witch's victims. He will deliver vengeance for their deaths and the agony of the ancestors."

Sam looked at Bobby, who shook his head and shrugged almost imperceptively, his right hand adjusting his hold on the taser.

"Look, I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but we're taking my brother and we're leaving this place."

"That is not possible."

Sam huffed out a mirthless laugh. "Yeah? Just watch us."

"You will kill him."

"What?'

"He has received the muti. If he does not expel it from his body in the manner it was intended, it will kill him, and the umthakati will be free to continue killing and cursing anyone else who drank from the barrels. The muti contains the essence of the victims. Your brother is now their vessel to destroy the witch and his curse they have carried for hundreds of years. They were released by the drunkard innkeeper. At dawn, if your brother does not destroy the witch, the cursed spirits will leave this castle and death will follow wherever they go. The first deaths will be that of your brother and anyone near him."

Sam looked shell-shocked as he met Bobby's equally incredulous gaze. Neither he nor Bobby had ever experienced Zulu black magic. Even though they'd faced all kinds of rituals and curses, and even possession, this was new. It was unsettling, and Sam felt panic rise in him as he looked back towards the orbs.

"I don't understand. How will my brother fight this thing — this witch?"

"You will soon be a witness. The umthakati will be here in a matter of minutes. He has been challenged. If he does not arrive by dawn, he will be destroyed, as well. They must fight or die. He will be corporeal, like your brother, so the fight will be among the two vessels as the forces within them battle to the death."

"My brother is not a vessel! If you think we're going to stand idly by while —"

"Silence! You are only here because your brother was concerned about you. We had to show him you were unharmed, so he would focus all his energy on his task. Now he knows, but if you do not cooperate, you will be removed. If he is to win this battle, he will need you nearby. Do you want to risk his life with your insolence?"

A myriad of emotions played across Sam's face at the sangoma's words. Dean sat up and moved away from Sam, appearing to stand strongly on his own. Although, as he looked at his brother, Sam was quite sure Dean was not standing of his own accord. His battered appearance was incongruent with this newly found strength. Sam stood slowly to face him; Bobby moved in close as he did. Dean's green eyes seemed lifeless, as though his soul had been removed.

"Dean?" Sam's anguished voice cut through Bobby's core. The older man placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on the youngest hunter's shoulder.

"He will not be able to respond now. Not until he has defeated the witch. It will help if you can lend him your strength. We sense you two have a strong bond. We also sense that you have abilities that can help him."

"How could you possibly know that?

"We exist on the same plane as those who gave you those abilities. We can recognize it. You must assist your brother when the time comes. You cannot fight the witch yourself, but you can strengthen your brother's efforts."

Sam frowned and then nodded resolutely. "Yes, okay I want to help."

Bobby grabbed Sam's arm and turned him so they were face to face. "Sam, we don't even know what we're dealing with here. Hell, Dean is about to be, or already is possessed by some freak Zulu force. For all we know, you could become possessed right along with him." Sam pulled his arm away, anger replacing his panic and fear.

"It doesn't matter Bobby! Dean needs my help, that's all I need to know. Now, do you have our backs?"

Bobby set his jaw and looked unflinchingly into Sam's eyes. "Always."