Chapter 3
The sun was already setting at the time Sam and Dean made it back to the small island in Jocassee Lake. Once again, they had parked the Impala at the side of Bootleg Road and had waded the 200 feet through the dark, cold water, carrying their weapons above their heads. Now they were making their way through the thick underbrush of hartwood forest, finally reaching the ruins of old Jocassee Church, which stood tall and black against the green of the forest, embraced by long shadows. Sam shuddered as the sun disappeared behind the mountains and the last red light passed from his sight. A musky twilight covered the two brothers and sent strange feelings through him that he was sure he hadn't felt yesterday in broad daylight.
"Weird place for a night out", he whispered to himself, thinking about Leyla's story, and wrapped his arms around his body to fight off the cold which followed the nightfall. Even though spring was only around the corner, the March nights in Upstate South Carolina seemed to be pretty chilly, especially after having waded through the cold water of the lake. Or was it something else? Cold spots, maybe?
"What are you talking about?", Dean replied with a smirk. "An island in the middle of nowhere, eerie ruins and the legend of an insane mass murderer – it's the perfect stage for a fun night." Sam forced a smile on his lips and said in a soft tone: "I don't know, Dean, this place just ... scares me. It's like there is ... something ... here, right now."
"Well, d'uh." Dean rolled his eyes. "You saw the EMF-readings. Why else would we be here?"
"Dude, seriously!", Sam exclaimed, staring intently at the old church and tightening the grip around his shotgun. "That 'vengeful spirit' theory, I ..." He was not quite sure how he should describe the feelings these ruins aroused inside him; it seemed as if there were more ... entities than just one spirit, as if there were hundreds of restless souls moving through the demolished walls of the church, waiting ... waiting for what? And how come he hadn't felt any of this during their first inspection of the place?
"You okay there, Sam?"
Sam looked up, feeling desoriented and exhausted. "Yeah, I was just ..." He stopped, struggling to find the right words, but had to give up when his eyes met Dean's. His older brother gave him a confused look, then asked him with sincere concern in his voice: "You know, maybe you were right, maybe we should just wait until tomorrow. Get some rest. It has been a long day for both of us." Once again since their search for John Winchester had begun, Sam felt a comforting warmth inside him at Dean's words. It felt good to know that he wasn't alone in his quest, that his brother was watching over him as he was watching over Dean. "Nah", he answered with another forced smile. "I'll be alright. Let's start by looking for markings on the outer stones." He made a nod towards the left side of the ruins, pulled out a flashlight and began searching the outer area for something he might have missed yesterday when he hadn't looked for anything in specific. His conscience tried to convince him that he at least should have attempted to explain this strange sensation of various spirits inside the church to Dean, but he just didn't know how. He wasn't even quite sure about the feeling himself. Many souls – yes, but he was unable to sense the kind of cold, angry aura that a vengeful spirit radiated.
Sam tried to push all these thoughts away, as they were no use to him at this moment. Right now, he had to focus on what he saw, not what he felt. The beam of light hit scattered stones, blackened from the fire so many years ago, but not one of them showed any of the signs he was looking for. The lack of weeds made him wonder once again what kind of ritual or incident could have desecrated an entire clearing.
Without even noticing it, Sam had reached the portal leading inside the ruin, and he decided to continue to look for signs inside the church. With most of the walls lying in pieces around the archway, its purpose had been nullified, but somehow it still felt right to enter the church through it. "You find anything?", he called out to Dean before setting foot inside the ruins.
"Still nothing", he heard his brother yell from the other side of the church. He could see the ray from Dean's flashlight cut through the darkness, moving slowly around the right side of the ruin towards him.
"I'll take a look inside", he said and stepped carefully through the portal while lifting the shotgun – just in case.
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"Still nothing", Dean answered in the very second something caught his eye. He stopped and looked down on one of the stones before him. It was similar to the others lying around it, a large brick, singed on one side, probably stemming from the inner wall of the church. But what had caught his attention were the signs on its other side, which would be barely detectable in daylight but now shimmered brightly in the concentrated beam of his flashlight. He knelt down and turned the stone, which until now had stood upright, so only its outer side was visible. Something had been carved into the brick, a small pentagram filled with various signs somehow familiar to him, but right now he was unable to determine where exactly he had seen them before. They seemed to be grey, the same colour the stone was on its unburnt side, with some kind of metallic gleam. He had seen them before, he was sure of it... Maybe Sam would remember. After all, his younger brother had always had the better memory concerning signs and rituals. Maybe this would help him find out whether they indeed were dealing with a spirit circle. Dean was about to call out for Sam, when he heard his brother announce: "I'll take a look inside."
For some reason, these words made Dean uneasy. He felt his stomach tensing up, and suddenly Sam's strange behaviour a short while ago came to his mind and refused to leave. What if his brother had been right? What if it wasn't some kind of spirit that could be chased away by rock salt and holy water? "I'll be right there", he shouted back at Sam and turned away from his find in order to enter the church from the other side, stepping over a low part of the wall. "Sam?", he called out. The anxiety inside him grew once he realised that he could see no sign of Sam's flashlight. Still no answer. The ray of his own flashlight split the darkness in half, touching more burnt stones, parts of walls, stone benches and the altar stone like a ghostly finger. He couldn't help but shiver. "Sam?", he tried calling for him once again. His heart began to beat faster, hammering against his chest, and his stomach suddenly seemed to consist of nothing more than convulsive pain. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. "Sammy?", he said this time, not even thinking about his choice of words and Sam's dislike of his nickname.
And then he saw him. Just on the other side of the portal, his flashlight hit something green that stood out from the grey and black background of the church. Sam's jacket. Dean's heart seemed to stop for a second as the beam of light slid over his brother's back and finally came to a halt upon his face, which was half covered by hazel coloured hair. He was lying on his side, both hands resting upon the shotgun before him, his eyes were closed. The flashlight was placed beside him, apparantly broken from the fall.
"No", Dean whispered and allowed his mind to be encompassed by panic for just a second. Feelings rushed through him, threatening to tear him away, a furious combination of concern for his brother, guilt for not taking better care of him and fear for a future without Sam. Gathering every grain of mental strength he had left inside of him, Dean forced himself to take a deep breath. He would neither be able to help himself nor Sam, if he allowed his feelings to take over. From the files and the stories he knew that all those people were alive at least for some hours; Leyla had even been convinced that her friends were only asleep. And as long as Sam was alive, there was hope.
Dean hurried towards his younger brother, his shotgun ready, his attention focused on his surroundings. Somewhere something was hiding itself, and it must be doing one hell of a job in order to surprise Sam. He passed the altar stone, stepping over rocks and bricks on his way, but nothing tried to stop him. Nothing showed itself. Once he reached Sam, he turned in a full circle, checking every corner of the old church, before kneeling down beside his brother and taking his pulse. It was slow, exactly as if he were sleeping, but contrary to someone asleep he did not react to Dean's presence in any way. "Sammy, I'm sorry", Dean said softly, brushing a streak of hair away from his brother's eyes. Sam's angelic face was unnaturally pale, but at least his breath was calm and steady. "Damn, I should have listened to you", Dean went on, desperately shaking his brother's lifeless body despite knowing that Sam wouldn't wake up from his touch or voice alone. He had to find out what was happening inside this church, and he had to find a solution fast.
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Dean spent a few more minutes by Sam's side, hoping beyond hope that his brother would open his eyes, smile mischievously and tell him that it had been a joke. A childish, idiotic one, but a joke nonetheless. Of course, none of that happened. Dean's mind was furiously scanning every detail he had heard or seen in the past two days, running through every conversation he had had with Sam, Leyla and Martha, trying to remember each article and file he had looked through. The word spirit circle turned up again and he decided that it would be best to continue where he had left off and take a closer look at the markings he had found on one of the stones.
First, however, he had to make sure Sam wouldn't die from hypothermia. He placed a hand on his brother's forehead, which felt alarmingly cold. Goosebumps had formed on his bare skin and his breath was condensating in front of his face. Dean took off his leather jacket and placed it gently on Sam's chest, then he whispered with a comforting smile: "I'll be back in no time. Don't go anywhere." He knew Sammy couldn't hear or see him, but the comforting part had mostly been to calm himself down. Casting a last glance at his brother, Dean lifted the flashlight and hurried back through the forest towards the car. Every fibre in his body baulked at leaving Sam alone inside the ruins, but he didn't know what would happen if he carried him past the line of unholy ground, and he desperately needed something to warm his body while he was sleeping. So Dean ran through the hartwood forest as if the devil himself was chasing him, crossed the water as fast as his legs would allow him and reached the Impala after only ten minutes. Gasping for air, he snatched two blankets and a first aid kit from the backseat before returning to his brother in record time. Sam hadn't moved and still didn't react to Dean's presence, not even when he spread out one blanket on the ground, lifted his brother up and placed him gently on the soft layer. The other one he used as a cover, making sure that it provided as much shelter as possible. The next step was building a camp fire, which was easily done as the floor of the old church was filled with twigs and branches. He used withered leaves and a part of his shirt as tinder and ignited the fire with the lighter he carried around in case there were any remains to burn.
Once he was sure that there wasn't any more he could do to ensure Sammy wouldn't freeze to death, he granted himself a second of repose in order to settle his thoughts.
He hadn't even rested for half a minute when he heard a voice. Sammy's voice.