There had been repeated disappearances over the last forty years or so but with no pattern, no specific dates and no particular type of person. Occasionally it was a single victim who would disappear, sometimes a whole car full. Often things were found, the abandoned car, a shoe, a wallet but no trace of the bodies. In total it was thought that twenty two people had gone missing in the same area but it could have easily been more.
With as much research done as they, or rather Sam, could do, there was not a lot to go on. There had been no sightings by anyone able to speak of it and numerous searches every time someone was known to have gone missing had led nowhere.
The biggest lead they had was that there was an area of about two square miles where it all seemed to be happening. So the brothers had been driving around for hours with nothing more to go on than hoping to get a gut instinct or abducted. It was not the best plan they had ever come up with.
"Dean. Look out!"
The car swerved as they narrowly missed the young woman standing in the middle of the lane. Slamming on the breaks, they both exited the car. "Are you alright?" Sam asked approaching her. She was hunched up slightly, backing away as if frightened and made no answer. "Miss. Are you okay?" he tried again.
She lifted her head and he took an involuntary step backwards. Under the long, gloriously thick chestnut hair her face was ravaged by starvation. The cheeks were drawn and hollow and the skin was paper thin. "Run!" she wailed at them. "He's coming. Run," looking behind her frantically.
"Who's coming?" shouted Dean.
She looked behind her again, screamed and disappeared.
The brothers stood looking around, at each other and then as one, moved to the Impala, opening the trunk and getting out extra salt shells now they had an idea there were spirits involved, armed themselves.
Swinging around, sawn offs at the ready, they waited searching the surrounding woods. Sunlight lit through the trees at that late afternoon angle, burning orange and heralding the onset of dusk. Great, another night, another dark wood and then another scream.
"Where'd that come from?" Dean asked spinning around.
Another lower pitched wail, "Opposite direction to that."
"That's just peachy!" and striking Sam on the shoulder, commanded, "Come on. This way." And Dean disappeared into the trees before Sam could even get a, "No. Wait!" out.
"Damn it!" then followed in the elder's footsteps.
Catching up he grabbed his brother's arm, "Dean, hold up. We don't know where to go."
"No, but she does," pointing at the female spirit they'd nearly run down and moved to follow her as she turned and headed deeper into the wood.
'Could be worse,' Sam thought, 'it could be a 'deep dark dank wood'', just as the trees grew closer together blocking out most of the dappled light. 'Great!' Another wail and he spun to his left just making out what seemed to be a young teenage boy who, once seen, took off running. "Dean!" he shouted then ran in pursuit.
"Damnit! Sam, where you goin'?" and turned to follow coming up short as the female appeared directly in his path screaming, "No!" in his face and pointed the other way. "Damn!" then looking at the emaciated face before him, he spoke directly to her, "What the Hell is going on?"
She disappeared. Looking around, he had lost track of Sam and Dean let out a wail of his own, full of anger and frustration then saw her waiting for him yards away. With no idea what else to do, he followed.
The youth he was chasing suddenly stopped, turned and came at him. Non plussed, Sam just stood there not reacting in time as he was barrelled into, coming to a stop with his back slamming into a tree. The face was the same as the woman's had been, drawn, grey with parchment like skin. The boy screamed beseechingly in Sam's face filling him with such a sense of sorrow. Then he was alone.
Standing, stretching his back and shoulders, he stopped short looking around. Shit he was alone. He had managed to get separated from his brother and thought to shout for him but they had seen two spirits already and both looked and acted like victims. He was sure of it. So what else was out here? What had these ghosts trapped and still so frightened?
He thought of the car crash spirit and her never ending quest to find David, her husband. But somehow he knew that the boy realised he was dead but was still here never the less. He wondered if the boy knew why?
He picked up the gun and started walking in the direction he had come from. The youth appeared again in his path, pointing behind Sam. He swung around but there was nothing there. So he guessed he had been given directions. He looked back to ask but the wood was silent and empty so with no other theory to act upon, he started off in the direction indicated, hoping he would come across Dean sooner rather than later but pretty sure he would walk into a trap instead.
After near an hour's wandering in thickening woodland, always seeing the boy if he was veering off course, Sam stopped at the first sight of a dilapidated wooden shed. There was really no other term for it as it was wood and small enough to not be out of place at the bottom of someone's yard, apart from the ivy and other plant life smothering it. The boy stood next to the thing while managing to cower away all at the same time. He turned frightened eyes to Sam, a finger to his near invisible lips warning him to silence.
There was a crackling of broken twigs, a muffled thud and Sam brought the shotgun up ready only to laugh out in relief at the swearing Dean as he rounded the thing from the other side.
"Dean," he called and jumped out of the way as a matching gun was raised and aimed at him.
"Dude. Don't do that!" came the shocked reply. He did not look happy at all. There was dirt all up his left side, on his face and he was fuming. Marching up to Sam he demanded, "Where the hell did you go?"
"Me?" shocked but also relieved that they had found each other, "You're the one chasing spirits into the woods. Good move by the way and where the hell are we?" looking around, not seeing much. Their guides seemed to have left them. He guessed they were in the right place. "Hand me a torch."
"What? You've got them."
"Oh great!"
There was movement in the trees and they stopped their bickering to listen and watch. It went quiet, tense, with the whole night just waiting for something to happen.
A scream and the woman was back pointing, screeching as Dean was lifted and hurled against a tree and as Sam swung around, he saw a blur of dark overalls, plaid shirt and fury. Then he was hit by what he vaguely recognised as an axe handle descending whilst hearing the shout of his name and a shotgun blast.
Noise, that's what Sam's whole existence was made up of. Some in his head as the pain swept through him in waves but mainly from without, around and directly above him. Slowly opening his eyes, it was all confusion. He was on the ground, cold and dampness against his side and face and all he could see were feet.
Off to his right, old fashioned sandals with what were once white ankle socks shuffling forwards and then running back accompanied by that high pitched screaming he had been hearing all evening. Wailing and a pair of pumps like the old baseball players wore 'way back when' were off to the left and, managing to bring his eyes fully into focus, Sam saw a pair of black boots planted either side of his outstretched arm.
The boots swivelled on the spot as the sound of the blast from a salt gun was almost deafening, fired right above him accompanied by a litany of swearing. Empty shell casings hit the ground close to his head as the gun was reloaded and another blast and he heard the cursing and, "Damn it! Give up already!" a pause then, "Stop with the damn wailing kid and do something useful. Tell me where you are. Where'd he die? Where's the bastard buried? Damn it!" another blast, more casings on the ground and then Dean's voice added his own scream to the spectres before him. "Shut up!" loud, in a rage and suddenly there was silence.
Sam groaned trying to push himself up from the ground but could not manage it. Immediately Dean was crouching beside him, a hand to his shoulder, "Sammy? You back with me? Come on, get up. We gotta go! Damn it!" almost in tears of frustration as he swung around and discharged the gun once more. "Why the Hell won't you just quit already? ...Sammy…. get up!"
He tried once more, managing this time to climb to his hands and knees then, pausing to give the planet time to stop rocking, made it all the way to very unsteady feet.
"You okay?" Dean asked worriedly.
Sam put a hand to his head and answered uncertainly, "Yeah…Yeah I'm okay."
"Good! Now grab your gun and let's get out of here."
He bent to comply. It was not a wise move as a wave of nausea and dizziness over came him and he stumbled with only the hand grabbing his arm stopping him from spreading on the ground once more. One final blast from Dean's gun and his arm was slung over Dean's shoulder and his brother began to pull him along, his feet fighting to keep up.
The girl showed up again, shrieking her anger and defiance at them for leaving, for not being able to put a stop to her fear and continued torment. Dean raised the gun to her, "Get out of the way. Show me the way out and I promise we'll be back. But we gotta leave now. My brother's hurt and right now I can't help you till you get us out! Do you understand me?" Dean was angry but pleading for understanding. He would shoot if she didn't move but he heard movement behind and, still holding Sam up, swung the gun around and fired at the entity that was causing them all such anguish.
He turned back and continued to struggle on in what he hoped was the right direction. He must have gotten through to her, his desperation cutting through hers, as she pointed in the direction behind her and began to lead as she had before.
Slowly Sam managed to get his feet to function beneath him, gradually taking the strain from Dean so by the time they burst back onto the dirt track he was able to steady himself against the car, moving around to pull open the door and so gratefully collapse into the passenger seat.
Dean opened his door but paused not getting in but looked back to see the boy and woman standing, looking reproachful but thankfully silently at him. "I promise," he repeated, "We will come back. We will fix this." And climbing behind the wheel, started the engine without delay and reversing uttered, "Son of a bitch!" as he saw the large figure in the rear-view mirror. "This guy won't damn well give up!" and just carried on reversing. The car jolted as the figure evaporated when the Impala slammed into it then, finally emerging off the lane onto the road, he swung the wheel, put her in gear and roared away.
"Sammy? Talk to me."
Sam's aching head slowly swung to him, seeing the fear and uncertainty on his brother's face. "I'm okay," He told him quietly but did not believe it himself. Is this what one of those migraines felt like? He gently touched the top of his head and decided it was the stupidest thing he had ever done, "Stop. Dean, stop the car." And as Dean complied whilst looking all around for the danger, Sam opened the door and leaning out, retched.
When finished he sat back looking the figure of wretched despair but remarkably felt a whole lot better. "If you got any of that on my car you're cleaning it," Dean said trying for levity, covering up his continued concern.
Sam could not summon up the energy to even look at him, "Please, Dean. Just get us … back." He nearly said home. He supposed it was really. Home was wherever he left his laptop these days. He closed his eyes, missing the anxious look but felt the car begin to move at a much steadier rate. -
Tbc…