After I read this story to my daughter, she looked at me and asked, "Where does this come from?" -grin-

Trust Is Everything - Chapter 4

Sam felt as if he'd been run over by a garbage truck followed by a semi and just wanted to crash in bed for the next three days. Instead, he got up and ready for work cause if Dean knew how badly he felt he would handcuff Sam to his bed while he went and exorcised the spirits. 'And probably get his ass killed,' Sam thought completing the sigils on the floor of the room they approximated had been the scene of the 1904 murders. Standing up he lit the white candles surrounding the sigils then carefully stepped over the salt and crushed horehound circle he'd drawn around the wooden altar to protect him while performing the exorcism. Kneeling down he arranged bundles of herbs, a black candle, matches and a copper bowl on an altar cloth. "Dean!"

"Yeah?" he replied, stepping into the doorway of the attic room.

"I'm ready to start the exorcism," Sam glanced down at Dean's notes, mentally checking off each part of the ritual. Looking up he added, "be careful."

Dean chambered a rock salt shell in his shotgun. "Aren't I always?" Sam cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at him. "Don't answer that." He stepped back into the hallway, waiting for the Ostafeikos to manifest. Cold fingers ran up and down Dean's spine while he kept watch. Fingering the hazel cross Bobby had insisted they wear for protection, he listened to Sam's murmurs and smelled the sharp scents of asafetida and cloves burning.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when he looked back into the room and saw a tall, thin, dark haired man wearing a loose-fitting white shirt and black pants appear outside the salt circle…Ilya. The spirit watched Sam with an inquisitive look on his face and when he caught Dean's eye, he smiled and inclined his head. Dean did a double take when he noticed the man had the same Polish shaped eyes as his brother.

"Sam."

"Hmm?"

"Look," Dean nodded his head in the spirit's direction. Behind Ilya, a swirling mist coalesced into a short, busty, titian haired girl wearing a turn of the century maid's uniform…Ginger. She stared curiously at the Winchesters until her eyes widened, she grabbed her neck as a gash appeared on her throat, her mouth opened into a high pitched scream that ended in a chilling gurgling gasp as bright crimson blood flowed out from between her fingers. The man didn't fair any better as gaping holes appeared in his shirt and blood colored his hands red, his screaming turned into a terrifying screech as his eyes disappeared leaving behind bloody hollows.

Hesitating briefly in his recitation, Sam looked back at Dean, a worried look on his face. Dean gave him a reassuring nod at the same time as a cold wind rushed down the corridor, flowing into the open doorway. Dean's jacket flapped behind him as he turned toward the wind and took a defensive stance, keeping a tense eye out for anything dangerous. The candle flames fluttered and Sam's bangs whipped into his eyes as he concentrated on his spell work. The wind was blowing the salt and horehound mixture away and he knew that soon there would be no barrier between him and the spirit's wrath.

"You cheated on me, my love," proclaimed a lilting voice with a pronounced Ukrainian accent.

Dean spun to his left, an icy, cold breath in his ear caused him to shiver and unconsciously move away from the doorway. "She's here." Sam nodded while adding another pinch of herbs to the smoldering ashes in the copper bowl.

"You said I'm the only one, my brother…there would never be anyone else."

"Show yourself bitch!" Dean yelled, stepping back against the door jam as the wind pressure increased and voices wailed around him. "Read faster Sammy!" Grunting an acknowledgement the younger man lit the black candle and sprinkled the ashes from the copper bowl onto the flame.

"I will have my revenge, my husband." A tall, slender woman became visible and the coppery smell of blood filled the air. Her long blonde hair whipped about her head as she ran at Dean, her bloody, clawed hands reaching out to rip him to shreds. Anastasiya's mouth opened wider than humanly possible, a cacophonous noise spilled out and rose to eardrum splitting levels, shattering the remaining windows.

Sam shut his eyes, curled up and threw his arms up to protect his face and head from the glass shards raining down on him. Tiny rivulets of blood started to flow from the many cuts to his head, hands and arms when he sat back up. Shaking the glass off the notes, he located his place and started to recite the last stanza of the exorcism. Dean quickly twisted away as the glass flew by him then turned back and pulled the shotgun's trigger, hitting Anastasiya with a spray of rock salt then yelled, "Sammy you okay?" Not hearing a reply Dean looked back into the room, "shit."

Jumping when the shotgun went off Sam continued his recitation not even stopping to answer Dean's call. Hearing Dean's swear he glanced up to see a pale woman glaring at him from two feet away. The air pressure in the room quadrupled making it hard for Sam to pull in a breath. Screeching, Anastasiya flew at Sam only to bounce off the invisible barrier created by the sigils spray-painted on the floor. Undaunted the spirit tried to fly above the barrier only to be stopped yet again. Her eyes glowed red and her face contorted into a horrible grimace as she threw herself repeatedly into the barrier. Becoming even more deranged, Anastasiya twisted around until she resembled a mini tornado. The force of her energy was strong enough to pick up small objects in the room and fling them about.

"Sam!" Dean ducked as a chunk of sheetrock came hurtling past him. Sam held up a finger signaling to give him a minute as he too ducked the flying debris. Yelling out the last words of the exorcism Sam then blew out the flame of the black candle, which had somehow stayed lit through the maelstrom. The effect on Anastasiya's spirit was instantaneous, one minute she was letting out a deafening scream and the next she was exploding in a burning cold, bright light. The force of the explosion picked up both Winchesters and tossed them into the walls behind them.

snsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsnsn

Dean opened his eyes and the minute he moved his head to locate the bells ringing in his ears, the world spun a complete 360° before going dark. Something was dripping on his face and he smelled rain, he blinked when a bright light flashed…lightning? He heard a dull boom and felt the building tremble…thunder? His head felt heavy and his ears were full of cotton. His thoughts disjointed, Dean rolled onto his back and tried to focus on a chunk of 2x4 impaled in the wall four inches from his nose. "Whoa."

Lifting a hand to his head, he came across a large lump on the right side of his forehead at the hairline. Gentle probing caused him to wince as pain shot through his temple. His nose itched and his fingers encountered tackiness. Peering at the two right hands floating in front of him he saw dark red stains covering his fingertips. Running his fingers up his nose, he found a sluggishly bleeding cut between his left eyebrow and nose. "Must remember to duck next time a spirit explodes," he muttered. He slowly turned his head and when lightning flashed again he thought he saw the bottom of a couple of boots. Staring, he waited for the lightning to flash a third time and this time he was able to make out a couple of jean-clad legs attached to the boots. 'Sam.'

Sam groaned and tried to roll over, only to discover that was a very bad idea. His chest was on fire, his head felt as if it was going to explode and his arms hurt like hell plus he was cold…and wet. Shivering he opened his eyes then quickly shut them again when a bright light flashed. "Aagh," he grunted trying to move an arm up to cover his eyes. He felt the building tremble when the thunder boomed overhead. Kicking out with his feet he managed to push himself back against the wall and placing an elbow underneath his chest he was able to shift up into a sort of reclining-slash-sitting position. With help from the lightning flashes he was able to survey the damage wrought by Anastasiya's demise…glass and debris strewn all over the floor, gouged walls and twisted window frames. "De'n!" his yell came out more like an abortive yelp when his ribs protested strenuously. Sam wrapped his arms around his chest and fell over, grunting when he hit the wet ground. "This ssucks."

"You said it bro."

Startled, Sam instinctively kicked out knocking Dean to the ground.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Dean lay on the ground rubbing his knee. "It's me Sam…it's me."

"I'm ssorry De..dean. You sstartled mme and…you're ble..bleeding." The blood looked eerily black, Dean's fallen flashlight throwing up strange shadows onto his face.

"So are you," Dean replied, grabbing his flashlight and sliding over to check his brother's injuries. The entire right side of Sam's face was covered with blood. Gently probing, Dean found a bump, several small cuts in his hairline and one large cut from his eyebrow to his cheekbone that would need stitches. The arms of Sam's plaid shirt were torn and mottled with blood. Sam's shivering intensified the pain in his ribs. "Your ribs feel broken Sam?" he asked while running his hands firmly over them.

Sam's teeth chattered uncontrollably, "nnnno ju..just bru..bruised I th..think." The younger man shifted away from the probing hands. "Wh..what about yyou? Hhow's yourr hhead?" Dean helped Sam sit up straighter and lean back against the wall.

"Sore," he flashed the light around the room, "where's your jacket?"

"Do..don't kn..know," he said sighing and closing his eyes, not even bothering to look around the room.

"Sammy don't fall asleep."

"Nnot tired. Cccold."

"Join the club dude." He moved the beam around the room searching for his brother's jacket. A dark pile of something in the corner of the room caught his eye. He got to his feet and shuffled forward carefully, his equilibrium shot. The dark mass turned out to be the duffel bag Sam had used to transport the exorcism materials. Dean reached down for the handles and came back empty handed. Rubbing his eyes, he willed the double vision to go away and tried again, this time snagging the handles. Unzipping it he found the younger man's jacket stuffed inside, "found your jacket Sammy." A grunt was all the response he got in return.

Sam watched Dean weave his way back and drop the jacket onto the floor next to him. "De..dean ccan you ssee ok..okay?" he asked reaching out for the jacket.

"Of course I can see alright," Dean replied, kneeling down to help Sam put the jacket on.

"You're sseeing dou..double are..aren't you," he said pulling the jacket tightly around his shivering body. "You ddropped mmy jacket nnext to mme and wh..when you rreached for mmy arm you hi..hit the wall wi..ith your ha..hand inst..stead."

Dean closed his eyes and dropped his head, "Sammy let's just get out of here. You're freezing and my head is killing me…we'll talk once we get cleaned up." He pulled Sam's arm around his shoulders and heaved him up. Sam winced and ground his teeth together to keep from yelling. He swayed a bit when Dean let go of him to kneel down and stuff his shotgun into the duffel bag, he swung it over his shoulder and stood back up. Grabbing a hold of his kid brother again they stumbled out of the ruined room and down a couple of corridors, stopping at the top of the grand staircase. "You ready for this Sam," Dean asked as they leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Mme? Wh..what about you?" the physical exertion warmed him up so he was able to walk a bit steadier and lean on Dean less. "You've rrun into three out of ffour doorways."

"They jumped out in front of me," Dean tried to joke.

"Dean."

"Come on," he grabbed Sam's arm, "let's get this over with." They slowly descended the stairs sticking close to the wall, not trusting the wooden banister. Dean wanted to celebrate when they finally made it down to the ground floor without tripping or falling. He didn't even mind the wind whipping the rain into their faces as they staggered quickly to the safety of the Impala. What did cause him to grumble in irritation was Sam's announcement that he was going to drive them back to the motel. "Sam I think I can drive my own car!"

Turning the heater up to high he turned towards the older man, "Dean how many fingers am I holding up?" Sam asked giving his brother the one finger salute.

"Fine," he answered gruffly, "just remember that when you get us stuck in a ditch." He would never admit it aloud but he was glad Sam insisted on driving as he drifted into a light doze, the pain in his head receding slightly. A loud creak followed by a cold breeze woke him up.

"We're here Dean." Sam hauled his extremely heavy brother out of the car. Slamming the car door shut he turned and tripped over the curb, colliding head first with a support post for the motel's porch. "OW! Shit!" Sam put his free hand out to grab onto the post as the burning pain from the reopened head wound caused his knees to buckle.

"Sam?" His brother's pain filled cry dispersed the fog from Dean's brain. Instinctively gripping Sam's jacket tighter, he felt him stumble back and start to go down. "Sam!" Pulling his brother along with him, Dean managed to get them to the door of their room. After a quick search of his pockets his hands came up empty for the motel key. "I can't find my key, I need yours."

Bent over with his back against the wall of the motel and his right hand pressed against the freely flowing wound, Sam muttered, "left pocket." Dean started to put his hand into the jacket pocket. "Not jacket, jeans."

Hurting to bad to give a damn about how it looked to have his hand down the front pocket of his brother's jeans, Dean simply did it, pulled out the key and opened the door. "Come on kiddo," he said tugging Sam into the room then pushing him down on the farthest bed.

By the time the cleaning up was done, they were both exhausted. Dean's facial cut didn't require more than a good cleaning and some butterfly bandages while Sam's on the other hand, required checking for glass shards and more than a few stitches, which unfortunately took some time since Dean's double vision hadn't cleared up yet. Luckily, they ran out of small cuts before running out of bandages…and patience. They swallowed painkillers and antibiotics before changing into dry, blood-free t-shirts and sweats. Sam immediately fell into bed and pulled the covers over his head while Dean repacked their first aide kit.

Rummaging for a relatively clean washcloth in the bathroom vanity, Dean practically jumped for joy upon discovering a couple of hot water bottles forgotten by a previous lodger. As he filled the bottles, he could see the blankets quivering from his brother's shivering. 'Damn blood loss,' he thought. He tucked one bottle in with Sam, received a muffled 'thanks Dean' and took the other one with him. Curling up with the bottle against his stomach, he drifted off as a memory of his mom tucking him into bed with a terry cloth covered hot water bottle played in his mind:

'This will make you feel better sweetie.' -gently brushing soft, baby-fine blonde hair off a little forehead-

'How Mommy?'

-tucking blankets in close- 'It will make your shivers go away.'

'Where do they go?'

'The timbers.'

'Timbers?'

'Argh! Shiver me timbers!' -said in a bad parody of a pirate's voice-

-giggling- 'That's bad Mommy.'

'It's the only kind I know love.'

FIN

¹X-Files s6:08 "How the Ghosts Stole Christmas"

These two spells were translated into Dutch at translation(dot)Babylon(dot)com so there will be grammatical errors.
²"Negative energy may not stay, I release it and send it on its way. Negative energy, I banish thee, And as my word, so mote it be!" Found at www(dot)freespellsandrituals(dot)com

³"Evil send must come to rest - Reflect it back to who knows best - Energy spent for evil and bane, Go back now from whence you came - Far away I send you this hour - May all your attempts to harm turn sour!" Found at www(dot)everythingunderthemoon(dot)net