SUMMARY: A vengeful spirit's attack leaves Dean hypothermic and fighting for life, while a concussed Sam, lost and alone, battles to get back to his brother. Story takes place mid-to-late Season 2, but before the events of All Hell Breaks Loose.
DISCLAIMER: Nope. Don't own Supernatural. Still playing in Kripke's sandbox. The strike is over (happy dance ) but I'll just keep playing in this corner until they kick me out.
A/N: I'd hoped to have this chapter up sooner but Mother Nature was not playing nice this week; I spent way too much time shoveling snow when, trust me, I would much rather have been writing. But, finally, here 'tis. Enjoy. And yes, it's snowing again. Sigh.
Heather: A huge thankyou once again - not only for your medical help with this story but for lifting my spirits when Mother Nature kicked me in the shins. You're awesome!
BRIDGING TWO SOLITUDES
CHAPTER 14:
Sam made his way carefully across the clearing and through the trees to where Mary's remains lay. With the crutches and the bulky knee brace, it was hard going; the ground was uneven and root-covered, and an overnight drop in temperature had left ice-covered patches littered across the forest floor. Given the concentration it took just to remain on his feet, he was tiring quickly.
Dean limped closely behind Sam, fingers coiled tightly around the shotgun he carried. His eyes darted warily around him but always quickly returned to Sam. Thanks to the crutches, Sam's gun remained stashed in the waistband of his jeans, useless in the event of unexpected attack, and that put Dean in full-on overprotective mode.
Bobby followed a few paces behind Dean, duffle bag slung over his shoulder and shotgun at the ready, routinely glancing around to make sure no attack came from behind.
Sam could hear his brother's shallow, raspy breathing behind him, Dean's still healing lungs protesting against the cold air they were forced to breathe and the workout they were far from ready for. But it was the anger radiating from Dean that Sam was most aware of. He'd been battered one too many times on this hunt and he was pissed, no question there. But, more than anything, Dean was angry with himself for letting Sam get hurt on his watch.
Sam didn't blame Dean. He was grown man who could take care of himself, or take the blame when he let his guard down and paid the price. But there were some things so ingrained in Dean's character through years of practice they were simply impossible to turn off. Looking out for Sam, and tearing himself a new one when he failed, would always top the list with Dean.
Experience had taught Sam to let his brother work through the anger. Blasting Corrigan would help but mostly Dean needed time; time to convince himself he hadn't failed, that Sam would be fine, that they'd both be fine.
As they moved closer to Mary's remains, Sam shook his head softly when he realized how history was repeating itself. More than a century before, two brothers had stalked these same woods in search of Mary, trying to save her from Corrigan and make him pay for the pain he'd caused; trying to return Mary home to her anguished mother.
He said a silent prayer their efforts would have a happier ending than those of Mary's own brothers.
Dean was a pale shade of grey by the time Sam stopped. Sam glanced worriedly at him before pulling a hand from his crutch to point to the ground ahead. "You okay?"
"I'm fine, Sam. Quit worrying." Dean looked around then stared at his brother incredulously. "Mary's remains are right beside where we found you? You couldn't have described that for Bobby and Doc?"
Sam shrugged. "I needed to be here. I need to be the one to tell Mary about her mom, about the bridge." He frowned when he realized Mary's skeleton had been covered up again. "Something's off Dean. I wondered why you guys didn't call me on it, why you hadn't seen the remains. I'd uncovered her, her head, and her arm – that's how I found the locket. But now, it's like someone covered her up again."
Bobby came up beside them. "Wouldn't be surprised if it was Corrigan. If he knew you found her, there's a good chance he knows you could take her away from him. He wants her trapped here as part of his sick game of cat and mouse."
Dean began the slow process of lowering himself to the ground to dig out Mary's remains but Bobby laid a hand on his arm, shaking his head. "Uh-uh. You're in no shape to be digging. Keep your eyes peeled for Corrigan – I'll dig."
The lack of protest from Dean told Sam all he needed to know about how Dean was really feeling. Dean caught Sam's worried look and frowned. "Do your thing, Captain Emo. Call out Mary and give her the 411. Once we've had a little bonfire, we're outta here."
Before Sam had a chance to respond, Mary faded into view in front of him. She smiled shyly at Sam while glancing warily at Dean and Bobby. "You came back."
Sam moved slowly toward Mary. "I had to. I think we can help you."
Mary stared at Sam, puzzled. Her frown deepened as she realized Bobby was digging up her remains. "What is he doing?"
Sam's tone was soft, gentle. "It's okay, Mary. That's my friend Bobby and this is my brother Dean. I told you about him. We're all here to help."
Mary studied Dean, eyeing the gun he carried suspiciously. She gestured to Bobby and repeated her question. "What is he doing?"
Sam had spent most of the three hours in the car trying to figure out how to tell Mary about her mother, but had yet to decide on the best way. He blew out a breath and opted just to follow instinct. "We want you to move on. We can get rid of Corrigan, that's the man chasing you, but it's more important that you find peace."
Mary's eyes widened. "I just want to go home."
Sam nodded. "You died a long time ago, Mary. You know your home, your family – they're not there any more."
Mary's eyes glistened as she nodded curtly.
Sam swallowed. "But I can help you see your mother again."
Mary's eyes widened. "My mother? How is that possible?"
Sam glanced at Dean, who nodded, willing him to keep going. "Your mother had, um, a hard time when you were taken. She and your family did everything they could to find you."
Mary nodded. "I knew they would not give up. Something must have happened for them not to have found me."
Sam blew out a breath again. He still wasn't sure how much of the tragedy that followed Mary's disappearance he should share with her. He decided to keep things as simple as the complicated tale allowed.
"Your father, your brothers – I think they're in a good place. At least I hope they are. But your mother couldn't handle what happened. Your disappearance, your death. She was angry with the men who took you, with herself for letting it happen, I suppose. It all became too much." Sam paused and Mary tilted her head expectantly. "When she couldn't take it any more, when she lost all hope – she jumped from the bridge over the Crooked Arm River."
Mary's eyes widened in shock. "No. She would not take her own life."
Sam moved a few steps closer to Mary. "Under normal circumstances no, but things kind of tumbled out of control after she lost you. The thing is, Mary, she couldn't let go. That's why she's still here."
Mary struggled to process the information Sam had just given her. "Still here? Like I am still here?"
Sam nodded. "In a way. But unlike you, Mary, she's angry. She's lashing out, blaming innocent people for hurting you."
Mary shook her head. "No. My mother is not like that."
Sam smiled softly. "In life, she wasn't. But she's been angry a long time and it's….it's changed her." His smile faded at Mary's horrified expression. "I'm sorry. I don't say this to hurt you, really I don't, she's just not the, um, person you remember. But you might be able to help her…. Stop her from hurting people."
Mary looked up at Sam, a single tear falling down her dirt-streaked face. "How? How can I help her?"
Sam took another deep breath. "If there's anything left of the woman she was, of the wonderful mother you describe – I hope that you can reach her. Perhaps help her move on to a better place too."
Mary nodded, reeling from all this new information. "But how? I am trapped here - with him."
Sam pulled the locket from his jacket pocket and held it up for Mary to see. "The braid in this locket has your hair in it. It's a physical link to you. If you concentrate, you can go wherever I take this locket. I need you to concentrate on the old bridge, concentrate on being there. If I take the locket to the bridge you should be able to move from this place to there……and see your mother again."
Mary looked from the locket to Sam. "If what you say is true, my mother's hair is also in that locket. Why did she not come here to me?"
Sam shrugged. "I don't think she knows she can. But after she attacked us, I think it's how she sent me here, without knowing she was doing it."
Mary's expression turned horrified. "My mother is the one who attacked you. Who hurt your brother?"
"Like Sam said," Dean limped closer to his brother, "she's not the woman you remember. We can stop her hurting people, and we're going to, but my brother here wants to give you a chance first. You interested?"
Mary stared again at the gun Dean held. Her expression saddened as she lifted her gaze to meet his. She nodded before turning to Sam. "But this man who chases me, this Corrigan, will he not follow?"
Dean answered before Sam could. "Don't worry sweetheart, we'll take care of him. We'll…"
As if on cue, Corrigan appeared suddenly about 20 feet to Dean's right. Dean turned and fired but the spirit dissipated before the shot found its target. "Sonovabitch. Where'd he go?"
As Corrigan appeared, Bobby had dropped the salt canister he'd been shaking over Mary's remains and grabbed his shotgun, warily scanning the area. Sam, teetering unsteadily, reached behind him for his gun, brought it round and clicked off the safety as he tried to decide where Corrigan would next reappear. He glanced at the spirit beside him. "Mary?"
Her eyes widened as she looked at Sam. "He is still here. He did not leave."
As if to prove her point, Corrigan reappeared suddenly, right in front of Dean. He grabbed the elder Winchester by the shirt, picked him up and threw him, sending his gun flying in one direction, and him the other, right into Bobby. The impact knocked them both off their feet. Landing on Bobby cushioned Dean's fall but couldn't stop the cry of pain as his injured ribs screamed at the abuse. Bobby struggled to roll Dean off him without doing any further damage, and point the gun he'd managed to hold onto at Corrigan.
Sam watched helplessly as Corrigan attacked his brother, unable to get a clear shot. He fired the moment Dean was out of the way but, again, Corrigan was faster. The bullet passed harmlessly through the air where Corrigan's head had been just seconds earlier.
Dean, lying on the ground, cradling his injured ribs as he tried to catch his breath, looked on in horror as Corrigan reappeared yet again, right behind Sam. He grabbed the back of Sam's jacket, pulling him off balance, before wrapping a meaty arm around Sam's throat. Sam fell backwards against Corrigan, his crutches falling away as struggled to free himself.
Bobby was moving to the side, trying to get a clear shot, but Corrigan denied him by pulling Sam in front of him as a shield. The spirit glared at Bobby and Dean and gestured toward Mary's remains. "Get away from there. The bitch is mine. She stays here with me."
Sam fought to breathe, pawing desperately at Corrigan's arm as it pressed down harder on his throat. His vision slid in and out of focus as he watched Dean unsteadily pull himself to his feet.
Cursing the fact he'd lost his shotgun when tossed into Bobby, Dean returned Corrigan's glare. Fear and anger mixed equally as he watched Sam struggle to breathe, struggle to stay on his feet as Corrigan dragged him backwards, struggle to stay conscious. "Let him go you sonovabitch."
Corrigan's eyes narrowed and his smile twisted his face into something truly ugly. "No. I don't think I'll let him go. I think I'll finish the job I started."
"Hey, now." Bobby lowered the shotgun he had pointed at Corrigan, holding his free hand up in a sign of surrender as he slowly bent down and placed the gun on the ground. He stood up slowly, both hands raised in the air. "Just let the boy go. No-one has to get hurt here."
Corrigan scowled at Bobby. "You're wrong, old man. The hurtin'……"
A shotgun blast cut off his threat. His eyes widened in shock in the moment before he vanished. Unseen by Corrigan, but in full view of Bobby, Mary had picked up Dean's lost gun and unloaded both barrels into her tormentor's back.
Corrigan took the brunt of the blast but the impact was hard enough to slam into Sam's back, knock the air from his lungs and send him face down onto the forest floor, out cold.
"Sam!" Dean ignored the stabbing pains in his chest as he stumbled to his brother's side.
Mary stared in horror at Sam, who lay unmoving on the ground. "Did I kill him?"
Dean pressed his fingers against Sam's bruised neck, releasing the breath he didn't realize he was holding when he found a steady pulse. He shook his head. "No. He's breathing. You just knocked the wind out of him." He pulled up Sam's shirts and jacket to see the skin on his back already reddening. His brother would be sore but his winter layers had saved him any more real damage. Dean grimaced, holding his ribs, as he turned to look at Mary. "Thanks"
Mary tilted her head, puzzled. "But I hurt your brother. You are not angry?"
Dean's eyes narrowed. "Given what that bastard was about to do, you did the right thing." He felt Sam stirring under his hand. "Sammy? You okay in there?"
Sam blinked up at Dean. "What?"
Dean smiled. "Mary saved your butt again. You two are gonna have to start goin' steady or somethin'."
Sam frowned, trying to remember what had left him face down in the dirt with Dean hovering worriedly over him. The pain in his back opened the floodgate and the events of the past few minutes tumbled through.
"Mary shot Corrigan?"
Dean nodded. "Yeah. Impact of the blast knocked you over. From out here, it looks like you'll just have a few new bruises to add to your collection. How's it feel from the inside?"
Sam grimaced as he did a mental inventory of his aches and pains. "I don't think the fall did my knee any favors but I'll live. Help me up."
Dean frowned. "You sure you're okay? Your voice sounds like you've been smoking a pack a day."
Sam rubbed his throat unconsciously, wincing as he found new bruises there, but shook his head. "I'll be fine, Come on, give me a hand."
Bobby had gathered up Sam's crutches and between the two of them, they got Sam back on his feet. They each held on, offering additional support, until they were sure he was steady.
Sam looked over a Mary who still held Dean's gun. "Thanks."
Mary offered a small smile and a shrug. "I owed him – a lot more than that. I'm only sorry I hurt you in the process."
Sam shook his head. "Uh-uh. Don't be sorry. Corrigan would have killed me." He winced as he took a few steps toward her. "Listen. We're going to take care of your, um, your body. Then the only thing keeping you here, trapping you here, is the hair in the locket. You have to concentrate on the bridge. You have to be able to get there by tonight. If you don't , well, we'll still be able to help you move on, but I can't promise you'll be able to see your mother again."
Mary shook her head. "I must be able to see her. To help her. Perhaps then she will stop doing these things you have told me of. Please, promise me you will not do anything until I have a chance to see her."
Dean shook his head. He knew his brother too well. "Don't do it, Sam. Don't make promises you can't keep. You know what we have to do."
Sam met his brother's gaze then turned back to face Mary. He smiled softly. "We'll wait as long as we can, I promise you that. But you have to be there before sundown. We can't wait any longer than that."
Mary nodded, glancing around her. "Then you should go; he is not far away." She looked down at the shotgun in her hands. "I will keep this. Stop him from following you if I must."
Dean's eyebrows peaked as he looked at Sam and tilted his head at Mary. "Get a load of Annie Oakley here."
"I'm ready."
Sam and Dean both turned toward Bobby's voice. He had emptied the gasoline container over Mary's remains. He'd brushed away leaves and built up the earth around her as a natural firebreak. He held the box of matches up to Sam. "I think this part's yours."
Sam smiled at Mary and nodded, moving slowly to Bobby's side. He pulled a match from the box, drew it along the side and watched it ignite. He smiled again at Mary as he tossed it into her remains. The gasoline caught instantly and burned hot and bright. Sam turned his head from the heat to see Mary staring at the flames. She looked up, meeting his gaze, and smiled sadly before fading from sight.
Dean watched her go but frowned when he realized his gun had faded with her. He turned to Bobby. "How'd she do that. Take my gun, I mean."
Bobby shrugged as he gathered up their supplies. "She's obviously gained some control over physical objects in the time she's been a spirit. It's probably something along the lines of what allowed Agnes to toss Sam here." He shrugged again at Dean's raised eyebrows. "I don't have all the answers, Dean. We wouldn't land in half the crap we do if I did."
Dean turned to Sam who was staring into the receding flames. "That stuff you said to Mary, about her father and brothers being in a good place – you believe that?"
Sam smiled. "I want to."
Dean's eyes narrowed as he stared at Sam. "Her brothers, they killed two people – even if it was just Corrigan and his scumbag partner. Most would say that's an engraved invitation to Hell."
Sam sighed. "I know, Dean. But those old newspapers Bobby dug up: one of the stories mentioned a pastor visiting them in jail before they were hanged. And they're buried in the church cemetery. Maybe they repented their so-called sins before they went to the gallows."
Dean frowned. "You really think they regretted offing the bastard who killed their sister?"
Sam smiled tiredly. "I don't know, Dean. I'm not really up to a theological debate right now." He shrugged. "I'm just running on hope."
Dean smiled, resting his hand briefly on Sam's arm. "Yeah, and that's what makes you, well……you. Come on, we're running out of time if we wanna do this. Let's get going."
Once the fire was out, they began the slow trek back to the Jeep.
The ride home was a quiet one. Thanks to his encounter with Corrigan, Sam was starting to stiffen up. He took two of Dean's painkillers and dozed for most of the trip. Dean's pride and body were both hurting from Corrigan's attack and, as much as he was grateful for Mary saving Sam, he was pissed it wasn't him that had dispatched the bastard one last time. "Nobody salts and burns him but me," he'd growled as they'd loaded the weapons and tools back in the car. He'd then taken two painkillers and, like Sam, tried to sleep.
Bobby's phone rang when they were about an hour outside of Plymouth. "Yeah? Hey. No, we're okay. We're all okay. Really. What? Well thank god for that. Where are you?" Bobby checked his watch. "We're about 45 minutes from there. Hang tight. We'll meet up with you as soon as we can."
He clicked his phone shut and glanced in the rearview mirror at Sam who, awoken by the phone ringing, was stretching in the back seat. He smiled over at Dean who was peering at him through one open eye, waiting for him to fill in the blanks in the one-sided conversation he'd just overheard. "That was Doc. She's found Agnes."
Just under an hour later, Bobby pulled into the parking lot at the pre-arranged rendezvous spot. Doc climbed out of her car walked over to the SUV, pulling open the back door next to Sam. She glanced from one brother to the other, not missing Dean's grey pallor or the new set of bruises on Sam's neck. She glared at Bobby, then at Dean and Sam in turn. "Fine, huh? What happened? Spill."
Dean rolled his eyes. "We're good, Doc. Now what…." Another glare cut him off. Doc had already begun examining Sam's neck. Dean sighed, knowing he'd get nowhere with Doc until she'd made sure they were alright. He waited patiently as she checked over Sam, listening closely to her questions and to Sam's responses, watching her reactions carefully for anything she might not be saying.
When it came time for Doc to check him over, Dean was not quite so patient, at least until Sam shot him a look that reminded him his brother was equally worried about him. He protested loudly, however, when she pulled an oxygen cylinder from the medical bag she'd retrieved from her car and pressed the mask against his face.
He batted the mask away. "Doc, come on. I don't need that. I'm..."
"Don't you dare say fine. You're far from it." Doc held out the oxygen mask. "Now, if you want to keep going, see this thing through, take this." She gestured with the mask again. "Just keep taking slow, deep breaths from the mask. Trust me, it'll help." She cut off another protest with a soft smile. "Please."
Dean took the mask from her and clapped it on his face, taking as exaggerated a breath as his struggling lungs would allow.
"Thanks, Doc." Sam smiled admiringly. There weren't many people who could get Dean to do something he didn't want to do – and most of them were in the car right now. He shook his head. "That's quite the Mary Poppins medical bag you have there; something for every occasion."
Dean shot Sam his best WTF look, pulling the mask from his face. "Mary Poppins? Guess you do watch more than porn when I'm out."
Dean noted with a smirk his brother's cheeks redden but cut off his retort by turning to Doc. "So where is she – Agnes I mean? Bobby said you found her."
Doc nodded, grabbing a folder from her medical bag and sliding into the backseat beside Sam, lifting his injured leg so it stretched across the seat and over her knee. "They hid her in plain sight"
Bobby and Dean had both twisted around to face her fully. Doc smiled at Bobby. "You and I spent all night going through the records looking for Graham or Sinclair – Agnes's maiden name," she noted for Sam and Dean's benefit. "I had no more luck today, until I took another look at the site plan instead of the cemetery rolls."
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Why."
She handed a piece of paper to Dean. "Check out the plot to the left of the Grahams'."
Dean studied the paper. "Okay. It belongs to a family named Ness." He raised his eyebrows at Doc. "You found the guy who nabbed Al Capone?"
Doc smiled, handing Sam a second piece of paper. "There's only one occupant in that plot. No name. Only initials." She nodded at the piece of paper Sam held. "Look at the entry beside No. 54."
Sam traced his finger down the paper until he found 54, then slid it over to the accompanying notation. "Ness. Interred 1876. The initials are A.G." He looked up at Doc when realization hit. "A.G. Ness. Agnes."
Dean smiled. "Sonovabitch. Somebody did an end-run around the pastor who wouldn't let her be buried with her family. Her nephews, I'm guessing. Told everyone she was buried in the orchard…..
"Then slipped her into the cemetery under an assumed name," Bobby finished. He smiled. "Sounds like the Graham family had a thing for breaking the rules."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' we're related." He glanced at his watch. "So what's our next step here? We're kinda running out of time."
Bobby nodded. "As much as I don't like the idea, I think we're gonna have to split up. Doc and I'll go take care of Agnes, while you two head out to the bridge and wait for Mary to show up."
Bobby cut off Doc's expected protest. "You know these two aren't up to digging up a grave, which means you and I get the short straw."
Dean nodded. "And Sam's gotta get that locket to the bridge if Mary has any chance of pulling Aggie back from the dark side. I don't see any other choice, Doc." He turned to his brother. "You up for this?"
Sam smiled. "Like you said, we don't have a choice. Let's just do it."
xxxXXXxxx
Dean stood on the bridge he'd been thrown from six days earlier. He swallowed uneasily as he stared at the broken railing. His body, thrown by Agnes, had caused the damage now patched together with timber and chain-link fencing and marked off with caution tape until permanent repairs could be made.
Most of his last encounter with the spirit was hazy. Sam had filled in the blanks, but it was the ever-present aches and pains that were the loudest reminder he'd come out on the losing end. That wasn't going to happen again.
"This plan of yours better work, Sammy," he muttered, glancing at his brother who stood, balanced on his crutches at the end of the bridge, trying to hold on to a shotgun but looking like a stiff breeze could topple him, never mind a pissed-off spirit.
Sam gripped and re-gripped the shotgun in his hands, looking around him warily. When his eyes met Dean's he offered a tight smile. "You ready?"
"Always ready, Sammy. Now where the hell is Mary?"
Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Give her some time, Dean. She'll be here."
Dean shook his head. "We're running out of time, Sam. We've gotta get this party under way." He glanced at his watch. Barring unforeseen problems, Doc and Bobby had had plenty of time to get to the county cemetery and dig up Agnes. Bobby had promised to call when they were done and that call was due any second now.
Dean pulled the locket from his jacket pocket. "Now if Aggie would just…" The change in Sam's expression caused him to whip around. Agnes was standing right behind him.
Dean flashed his mega-watt smile, his unsteady step backwards a counterpoint to his cocky demeanor. "Hey. Nice to see ya again. How ya been?"
He flinched, expecting her to lash out. At the sight of the spirit, images of their first encounter tumbled through Dean's memory. She had appeared suddenly and attacked unprovoked, her face contorted by rage. She had charged at him and, as her energy hit, he had felt fury, bitterness and pain. Then there was nothing, until he woke in the hospital almost three days later with only hazy, snapshot glimpses of the events in between.
Dean was surprised this time that the attack never came. Agnes stood, unmoving, in front of him, staring at the locket dangling from his hand. "That is mine." She glared at him. "My daughter had that. What did you do with her?"
Dean moved slowly, his eyes never leaving Agnes, but maneuvering her so she was between him and Sam, giving his brother a clear shot if necessary. "I didn't do anything to your daughter, Aggie. We're just looking after this for her. In fact, we're doing her a favor."
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sam raise the shotgun. The movement was slight but enough to catch Agnes's attention. Deeming Sam the more immediate threat, she moved past Dean and focused her energy on the younger Winchester. Telekinetically pulling the shotgun from his grasp, she sent the weapon sailing over the side of the bridge into the river before picking up Sam and throwing him against the support pillar at the bridge entrance. Sam's cry of pain ripped through Dean as he watched his brother crumple to the ground.
Anger lent speed to Dean's reflexes. He reached behind him, pulling his Colt 1911 from his waistband and fired two rock-salt shots at Agnes. But she was quicker than the bullets, dissipating before they reached her. They sailed harmlessly over a fallen Sam and into the woods beyond the end of the bridge. Agnes reappeared suddenly, right in front of Dean, batting the gun from his hand. It slid across the bridge, disappearing into the shadows.
"Oh you bitch. I….," Agnes choked off his protests, literally. She grabbed him by the neck, slammed him into a nearby pillar and held him there, suspended with his feet off the ground.
In a daze, head spinning and knee protesting painfully against this latest attack, Sam struggled to push himself upwards. His blurred vision suddenly focused on the sight of his brother being strangled, feet kicking desperately, arms trying to push Agnes away but finding nothing solid to lock onto.
"Agnes! Let him go."
Agnes, choking Dean into unconsciousness, tightened her grip, ignoring Sam's plea. She stared at Dean's hand, the one still tightly clutching the locket, the gold chain spilling out between his knuckles. "Give me my locket."
Sam grabbed the bridge railing and hauled himself unsteadily to his feet. "Agnes, we found your daughter. Let him go or you'll never see her again."
Agnes froze, then whipped her head round to stare at Sam, a kaleidescope of emotions playing out across her face as she weighed his words.
She released Dean without warning. He collapsed onto the deck of the bridge, coughing and gulping down air, his face contorted in agony. Agnes's spirit dissipated in front of Dean, then reappeared almost instantly in front of Sam.
The younger Winchester jumped, startled by the spirit's sudden appearance so close to him. His grip tightened on the railing to regain his balance but he held his ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see Dean struggling to push himself to his feet.
Agnes's eyes narrowed and Sam knew she saw him as Corrigan. She leaned in closer. "You. What did you do to my daughter?"
Sam swallowed hard. "I didn't do anything to her. I'm trying to help. She'll be here."
"Where. Is. She?" Agnes repeated. Her voice was cold and vicious. Pain shot up from Sam's knee as he stumbled backwards trying to get away from her.
A sharp whistle behind them suddenly grabbed the spirit's attention. It was Dean, teetering slightly as he held the locket in the air to show Agnes. His voice was raw and thick.. "You want your daughter, Aggie? You need this."
As she made a move toward him, Dean swung his arm over the railing, holding up the locket and threatening to drop it into the water below. "Uh-uh. You're quick bitch, but quick enough? You can't see your daughter without this so, unless you want me to drop it, get the hell away from my brother."
To show her he meant business, Dean let loose some of the coiled chain in his palm. The locket dropped, but remained firmly in his grasp.
Agnes screamed, an ear-piercing screech that caused both brothers to wince. Her hand shot out as she reached for the locket telekenetically. But this time Dean was ready. He felt the pull on the locket, but closed his hand tightly, grunting at the effort it took to maintain his grasp..
Dean scowled at the spirit. "Cut it out, Aggie: you're really starting to piss me off. But Mary I like and, for whatever reason, she wants to see you, so what say you play nice till she gets here?" The pull on the locket disappeared and he relaxed his grip. "Now get away from Sam. Then we'll wait for Mary to show up and every……"
A blast of cold energy hit him in the chest and sent him sailing down the bridge. He landed hard, the impact knocking the air from his lungs and sending the locket flying from his grasp and skittering across the bridge surface.
Dean was fighting to remain conscious, the pain across his ribcage threatening to pull him under. He could feel his heart racing and his his lungs struggling to keep up. He rolled his head to the side, holding his ribs protectively and concentrating on slowing down his breathing. As his vision cleared, he saw the locket, Mary's connection to her mother and their bargaining chip, lying about five feet from his outstretched hand. His eyes widened as gravity grabbed it before he could, the chain disappearing between a join in the planks and picking up speed with each link that slipped below the bridge.
He pushed himself toward it, unable to stifle a cry of pain the movement caused. With Agnes's scream echoing through his head, his hand snaked out toward the necklace, but the gold locket slid into the crack in the wood and disappeared from sight.
To Be Continued
A/N: Another evil cliffie, I know. Apparently, I have a reputation to uphold! Once again, thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think; I love to hear from you. Cheers – there's more to come.