We'll Always Have Kansas: Chapter 3 by asesina
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. It is the property of Eric Kripke and the CW.
A/n: Thanks for the reviews and feedback. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts"
-William Shakespeare, "As You Like It"
Sam crossed the room with two easy strides and fell to his knees at Dean's side.
"Dean," he said softly.
Dean was knocked out.
"Damn," Sam cursed. He looked up at the female phantom, panicking as his eyes flicked to his brother's prone form.
"Stay away from him," Sam spat. The phantom laughed with a cold, shrill cackle as she raised a spindly diaphanous finger at Sam.
"I'm after you," she hissed.
"What did I ever do to you?" Sam demanded. The ghost stared through him with her hollow, bottomless eyes.
"You destroyed my entire family, you evil filth!" she exclaimed. Sam skimmed his mental rolodex of supernatural beings that he had recently killed, but nothing came to mind.
"Just calm down. I don't think I've ever met you," Sam said, attempting to maintain composure as he inhaled deeply and felt for his gun.
"Yes, you did! I lived in Cheyenne with my three sons. You decapitated them all in front of me!" the woman cried.
"I- I'm sorry," Sam replied quietly.
"It wasn't me back there," he added.
"Yes, it was! I know that you were possessed, but you still gave in," she screamed. The phantom floated across the room towards Sam.
He noticed that the smoky tendrils of her gown just brushed the garish carpet.
"You and that weak fool behind you are both going to die," she said in a low, dangerous voice.
"You stay away from my brother," Sam growled, echoing his previous threat.
"And just what are you going to do about it? You're just a human now. I can feel it," the phantom spat. With a swift flick of her wrist, she formed a scythe-shaped shadow from the smoky limb that was once her left arm.
"You can't stop me," she said with a howling laugh as she made a beeline for Dean's unmoving body.
"No!" Sam yelled.
He positioned himself between the phantom and Dean. Sam glanced back at his brother to make sure that he was still unconscious. He dipped his finger in the blood that surrounded Dean's head and whirled around to face the ghost.
"Good bye," Sam said in a quiet voice. He pressed his bloody pointer finger to the spirit's forehead, and he began to mutter an incantation in Latin,
"Requiscas in pace aeterna. Volas, phasma phasmatis."*
Instantly, the spirit stopped moving. The edges of her smoky form glowed with a soft light, and she screamed as her head fell back and she looked heavenward. The ghost's form became less and less humanlike and finally disappeared into an amorphous mass of grey smoke.
Sam heard an elated sigh as the ghost disappeared and the smoke drifted through the ceiling.
The room fell silent again save for the sound of Sam's heavy breathing.
He looked down at his hand and smeared the blood a little before wiping his hand on his jeans.
Sam's thoughts instantly drifted back to Dean. He rushed to his brother's side and felt for a pulse.
Sam let out a sigh of relief when he felt a faint pulse in his brother's neck.
"Dean, hey," Sam said softly. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder and shook him gently.
"Sam," Dean said gruffly. He looked around the room in fear and tried to sit up as Sam held him down.
"Woah, Dean. Slow down," Sam said quietly. Dean protested, but he allowed Sam to help him into a sitting position.
"Where the hell did that freaky ghost bitch go, Sam?" Dean asked.
"She's gone, Dean," Sam said quickly.
"How did you get rid of her?" Dean asked with curiosity.
"I'll tell you later, Dean," Sam said mysteriously as he helped Dean stand.
"You have a bad gash above your ear, Dean," Sam added, inspecting the damage with concern as Dean swatted his hand away.
"It's fine, Sam," Dean said. He swayed slightly on his feet, and Sam was by his side in a instant.
"Well, you're not fine," Sam said matter-of-factly.
"We've got to stitch up your head," Sam said, staring at Dean with his best intimidating John Winchester glare.
"Can't we get some angel mojo to fix us up? How 'bout we summon Cas or something?" Dean asked.
"I think we should stick to what we know, Dean. I've had enough of divine intervention for a while, anyway," Sam said with a smirk.
"Ok, Ok. I think the first aid kit's still in the Impala," Dean said.
"At least, I hope it is. We lost a whole lot during the Apocalypse, man. It would take one huge freakin' band-aid to cover the damage we've done," Dean huffed.
"Dean, let's go," Sam said. He offered Dean a shoulder, but his ever-stoic older brother decided to brave his injury on his own.
When they got outside, Dean was surprised to see that twilight was already falling. The corners of the sky were cobalt blue, and the horizon was still rimmed with a faint white light.
"Where's the Impala?" Sam asked. He looked down the cul-de-sac but couldn't spot the car.
"It's that way, Sam," Dean said. He motioned to the left and stopped for a moment to feel his head.
"Dean," Sam said with concern.
"I'm fine, Sam. Let's just get to the car," Dean said as he stumbled onto the street.
He blinked the sleep from his eyes and exhaled slowly.
"We're almost there, Dean," Sam said. He spotted the Impala several yards away and he quickly ran to the car to raid the backseat for the first aid kit.
Sam was surprised to find that it was still intact in its regular spot.
"This car is like the black box of a plane," he marveled as he noted the generally good status of the Impala.
It had survived the freakin' Apocalyspe!
Sam rushed back to Dean's side and helped him over to the Impala.
"Dean, sit in the back seat," Sam commanded. He felt for the flashlight that Dean used to stow under the seat, but he couldn't find the damn thing.
"You got a light, Dean?" Sam asked.
"I have a lighter, I think," Dean said. He felt in his pocket for the Zippo and pulled it out with a flourish.
"Here ya go, Dr. Winchester," Dean said. Sam grabbed the lighter and held it up to Dean's head to inspect the damage.
"Dean, it's not that bad. We should get to a motel or something, though. It's had to see in here," Sam admitted.
"Do you really have to stitch me up, man?" Dean complained. Sam rolled his eyes and helped Dean out of the back seat and into the front passenger seat.
"Yeah, man. We've got to get back to civilization, though. This abandoned village is too much like an M. Night Shyamalan movie for me," Sam said.
He waited for Dean to position himself comfortably in the passenger seat before he climbed into the driver's side.
"You got the keys?"
Dean fumbled through his pockets and threw them over to Sam.
"Take the main road out to the highway," Dean mumbled as he let his head droop and he leaned against the window.
"I know my way around our home town, Dean," Sam said with a sigh.
He turned the key in the ignition and waited for the engine to turn over. Sam almost smiled when he heard the old familiar purr of the Impala's engine.
He glanced over at Dean and felt tears welling in his eyes when he thought of all the times they had taken turns sleeping and driving the Impala.
So much had changed since the Apocalypse, but Sam was eternally grateful for this second chance. He knew that he had given in to Lucifer and killed countless innocent people, but the angel had told him that no one was beyond redemption.
Some people had just sinned more than others.
Sam remembered the ghost that they had encountered in their old house.
She didn't look familiar, but Sam was sure that he killed the woman and her sons while he was possessed by Lucifer. He wanted to destroy all of his memories of that fateful, disgusting week that he spent as Lucifer's vessel, but it would always be a part of him.
Sam hadn't told Dean that the angel had shown him another revelation. He would have to relive the death of every person he ever killed on the earth before he could be purified.
That meant that he would suffer billions of times.
Sam wasn't ready for that kind of torture.
He had yet to experience such a thing, but he definitely did not look forward to it.
Sam pulled onto the main street and searched for signs that lead to I-70. He had missed this old town, but he wanted to get the hell out of Lawrence.
Enough was enough.
Sam pressed down on the gas pedal and sped towards the city limits. He took in a million and one sights as he drove past the old familiar sights at 70 miles an hour.
The ever-darkening sky used to seem foreboding to Sam, but tonight he felt like he could launch himself from the surface of the earth and fall among the stars.
He felt free.
Sam turned on the radio to its lowest setting. He was surprised to hear Coldplay's "Viva la Vida" playing, and he kept the song on.
He would turn it back to Dean's usual AC/DC and Led Zeppelin station if his brother decided to wake up.
Sam turned the car onto I-70 and gunned it.
He was about to merge into the fast lane when he saw a strange, shimmering light ahead of him.
It was almost as if the Impala's headlights were being reflected by an immense and thrown back at the car.
Sam didn't have time to jam on the brakes when he felt the Impala smash into a wall.
Everything went black.
Seconds later, Sam came to.
He was still in the Impala. Sam looked over at Dean and shook his brother's shoulder violently.
"Dean! Wake up!" he called.
Dean groaned and blinked his eyes slowly.
"What the hell happened?" he muttered, lifting a hand to his injured head.
"Dean, we just crashed into… nothing," Sam said. He stepped out of the car and reached a hand towards the smashed fender.
What the hell had they hit?
Curiously, Sam reached a hand into the cool night air. He was shocked to feel a cold, slick surface in front of him.
He couldn't differentiate between this presumed wall and the night sky. It was as if a giant glass was separated the Impala from the rest of I-70.
"What the hell's going on, Sam?" Dean called from the car.
"Dean, just stay inside," Sam said. He felt for his gun and was dismayed to find that it was missing.
"Damn", he muttered.
Sam ran back to the car and looked in at Dean.
"Dean, something weird's going on. You're already hurt. Just stay in here," Sam commanded.
"No way, Sam," Dean said angrily. He stepped out of the car and took a wobbly step towards Sam.
Sam turned to help Dean when he heard a gravelly voice ask,
"Leaving Kansas so soon?"
TBC…
A/n: Let me know what you think!
*The Latin phrase is a poor translation roughly meaning, "rest in eternal peace. Fly, spirit!"
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