Sorry for not updating this in nearly two months. I had a major writer's block and couldn't figure out what could happen next. The time was also taken from me moving out of college and back home and then preparing to find another one closer to home. I plan on taking some writing classes to improve my skills so I can be a better author :)
I also have been drawing more as well. I have a picture of Clare drawn up. If you want to see her, just go to my page on deviantART (SuperChillMoosegirl) and look in my gallery :) She's on the 1st page. I tried giving a link, but it wouldn't come out right ^^;
But she's my first full digital painting and I'm quite proud of it :D
So, once again, I apologize for the wait, and I'm happy to say that the writer's block has passed and I know what to do from this point on. So enjoy!
This takes place between the season 1 eps "Scarecrow" and "Faith"
Supernatural: Eric Kripke
When Dean awoke what felt like hours later, his head felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it at least a hundred times. Massive pressure was building up behind his eyeballs, threatening to pop them straight out his skull. He felt a warm liquid dribbling from his right nostril and snaked his tongue out to catch a tiny drop, grimacing at the bitter, coppery taste of blood.
Dean's entire body felt numb; small needle pricks danced across his fingertips and toes. He knew that once the numbness subsided, he'd be relatively sore from the rough torture he had endured just minutes ago. Or was it hours? Dean had been out for who knows how long, that it caused him to lose track of all time, his biological clock being screwed all to Hell.
Dean groaned as the pressure behind his eyes increased, his head now throbbing painfully with the emergence of a massive headache. He was close to tears, the pain was that bad. But he couldn't, not when that bitch of a witch was possibly still lurking nearby, basking in his misery.
"Sonovabitch," he moaned, opening his eyes and still seeing pitch blackness. He also realized that he couldn't hear a thing, which brought back the unpleasant memory of him being blind and deaf. "Dammit….I was hoping this was like Wizard of Oz and I'd awaken inside Bobby's house with him, Dad, Clare, and Sammy gathered around me. Of course, that'd make me the Dorothy chick.
"But Sammy does look like the Scarecrow dude. That would mean Bobby is the Cowardly Lion," Dean snickered at that since he knew that Bobby was anything but a yellowbelly. "And Dad would be the Tinman and Clare would be Toto." At this point, Dean was rambling, something he usually does to make him forget just how much pain he's suffering from and to forget just how much trouble he was in. "And of course, the Wicked Bitch of the West would be the wart-face who was gunning after me."
"Awwwww, now that's not very nice, Dean-O," the witch's voice suddenly spoke in Dean's head, startling him, making him yelp as that caused some of his awakening, sore muscles to pull. "You know I look very young for my age."
"Well, well, speak of the devil," Dean smirked. "How long have you been creeping on me?"
"Oh, I never left. I was waiting here this whole time,"
"So in other words, you were watching me sleep….you perv," Dean smiled suggestively, waggling his eyebrows for good measure. But the witch just chortled, something that sent a shiver down Dean's spine, as if a bucket of ice cubes was cascading down his back.
"Please don't do that again. You win the Creepiest Evil Laugh Award," Dean shuddered.
The witch chuckled. "Oh, you're so funny, Dean. But I seriously hope that you had learned your lesson about testing me. I'm positive that you wouldn't like to go through any of that anytime soon, right?"
"Naaah….it was actually a blast," Dean remarked acrimoniously. "Kind of like a massive sugar rush. I feel quite energized right now."
"That's it, big hero," the witch cooed. Dean flinched as he felt long fingernails caress his cheek. "Downplay just how much it truly hurts with smartass comments as you always do. But I'm going to warn you that one more treatment like that will kill you."
Dean's breath caught at this as his body tensed. He hoped the witch didn't catch his reaction, but the infamous Winchester luck obviously decided to take a vacation from him that day because the witch not only noticed his reaction, but she laughed that terrible, nails-on-a-chalkboard cackle of hers again, making Dean's spine tingle.
"Ahh….I told you not to do that again!" Dean winced.
"Like you're in any position to tell me what to do, Hunter. I could kill you with a mere flick of the wrist and avenge my baby sister faster, by I won't. You deserve to suffer as much as your precious Sammy does. You do know that he's coming for you as we speak, right?" the witch asked with mock curiosity.
Dean's head snapped up at this.
"What?"
"Oh, yes. I picked up the trace of his mana a while ago, while you were still out cold."
"Mana?"
"His life energy, my dear Hunter. In fact, I picked up four traces. Seems like you have a cavalry on the way."
"Yeah, and believe me, they'll be ticked at you. You won't even have time to open your mouth to curse them….you'll be dead!"
"Oh hahahaha….We'll see about that. Now then, why don't you just sit here for a while longer while I go greet your family and give them a warm welcome?"
"You bitch, leave them alone!" Dean growled. He struggled against his bonds, but immediately stopped as he felt a sharp jolt of magical energy. He ceased his struggling, the witch's warning ringing in his head. He realized that she wasn't speaking to him any longer, which meant that she was gone. Gone to finish off the only remaining family members he had left.
Dean bowed his head and began to cry.
SPNSPNSPN
Sam anxiously tapped his fingertips on the backseat of the Impala. It had been just twenty hours since they had left Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and they still had six more to go. Bobby had been speeding for the majority of the trip, which got them as far as Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. But traffic had slowly been congesting the highway that they were on. The Impala was currently sandwiched between a hot-rod full of rambunctious teenage boys that apparently believed that their rap music had to be heard by everyone on the highway, and a blue Honda Civic belonging to a business woman yammering on her cell-phone, her high-pitched voice annoying enough to make Sam want to put a bullet through his skull….or hers.
Sam glanced down at Clare, who was sitting ramrod straight beside him, her emerald eyes fixated on the traffic ahead of them, her tail swishing back and forth, a sign that she was clearly annoyed. She growled, forcing an amused smile on Sam's face.
"How much longer till we get to Salem?" he piped up. John and Bobby were in the front seats. They exchanged a grim look and Bobby turned his gaze to him in the rearview mirror.
"Traffic is pretty heavy, Sam. We'll be lucky to get there before nightfall. But at this rate…." He sighed and pressed the horn of the Impala, only to be answered by a series of other impatient and irritated honks.
Sam groaned and slumped against the backseat. "Dean could be dead before then! We have to get out of this mess now!"
"Can't be helped, Sam." John said melancholically. He was sitting quietly in the passenger seat, elbow resting against the window, knuckles propping his head up as he stared, unblinking, at the thick river of cars before them.
Sam glared knives in the back of his father's head. "We wouldn't even be in this mess if you had kept a closer eye on him!"
"Oh, come on, Sam," John rolled his eyes and turned to scowl back at his youngest son. "We've already established that it was my fault. Will you let it go?"
"Not until we make sure Dean's safe and sound and back with us," Sam replied coldly. "And when his vision and hearing are repaired, since losing them was also your fault!"
"Sam, John," Bobby growled in warning, not wanting to sit through another heated argument between the two.
"How many times have I said I was sorry?" John's deep voice boomed through the small interior of the Impala. Clare actually flinched and Sam hunched down a bit, but soon recovered.
"Sorry isn't good enough, Dad! You think saying it a thousand times will return Dean's sight and hearing? You think it'll save him from that bitch, who is probably doing God knows what to him as we sit here in this damn traffic jam with our thumbs up our asses?"
"We will get to Dean and gank that bitch, you can bet your life on that, Sam," John hissed. "But you're looking on the negative side of things, which could endanger this mission! Dean's counting on you to have a level head and to be confident, yet here you are worrying yourself into thinking we won't reach him in time. Dean has always been strong and kept a clear mind in heated situations."
"Only because you trained him that way!" Sam snapped. "Made him into a perfect little soldier. A carbon-copy of you."
"If you two don't shut your traps right now, I will tie you both up, gag you, and shove you in the trunk till we get to Salem! Do I make myself clear?" Bobby's voice roared loud enough to startle Sam and John into silence and to make the woman who was chatting on her phone to look over at them with wide eyes. Bobby ignored her and waited for the two younger hunters to reply.
Finally, Sam just leaned against the door, mumbling a yes sir, then falling into a quiet brooding session, glaring out the window. John sighed and resumed his previous position before the argument with Sam started. Bobby rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
"So this is what Dean used to have to go through all the time. Hopefully after we get him back, he won't have to play peacemaker any longer."
An hour later, the traffic finally began thinning out and, once there was an opening, Bobby tore out of the steady stream and raced down the highway, afraid that the time they lost was the time that Dean desperately needed. He hoped that they weren't too late.
TBC...
If you spot any inconsistencies, please let me know :)