Sam felt weak as minutes passed and still heard nothing from Dean. The line had already dropped dead and he knew Dean was no longer on the other end of the phone. He slowly drifted into a light sleep. Only 5 minutes, he thought. He couldn't quit now. Not when Dean relied on him to tell him where he was.
Just a short nap is all I need, Sam thought. He let his head fall back onto the cold metal and fell into a deep sleep. Claustrophobia had finally gotten the best of him.
Dean examined the shackled garage. It didn't look much like a garage, more like a tiny hut. He tried the door, but it was locked. He stepped back and kicked at the door, the door breaking down like it was made of twigs.
He wasted no time, jumping over the fallen door, racing into the room. He stopped dead in his tracks, observing the gruesome scene before him.
There were children strung all around him, tied up to wooden planks like puppets and hung by their hands with ropes leading toward the ceiling of the garage-like hut. He took out his pen-thick flashlight and shone it on the planks and the children. Their skin was rotted and swollen.
He wrapped his arm around his nose, trying to breathe in the fresh smell of their father's hand-me-down leather jacket as he smelled rotting and deteriorated flesh. It made him physically sick to the point that he had started to gag. He let the sickness through and threw up a few times before composing himself. After shaking it off, instant thought creeping into his head.
Sammy, he thought. He uncovered his nose, breathing in the rotting flesh again, but ignoring it. He shone his flashlight around at the children, looking for his little brother or any surviving children at the scene. He had traced his path twice around everything when he gave up and accepted that his brother was not there and there were no children that had survived this gruesome scene.
He shot his flashlight through the room once more. It stopped at a hole in the ground. Bingo, Dean thought. He rushed over to the hole, more like a square, in the ground and shone his flashlight down into it. It revealed wooden steps leading down to some sort of cellar. Dean shrugged and wasting no time, threw himself as fast as he could down the steps.
It took him a few minutes before he reached solid ground. He was thankful for the revolting smell of rotting flesh dissolving after the first few steps. He now breathed in what smelled like fresh air. It was also very cold.
Dean squinted, but it was pitch black and he could not see a thing. He took out his flashlight again, shining the light throughout the area. It was a very small room, with an exception of a cave-like opening in the west side of the room.
He shot his light around, looking for some sort of metal object that was big enough to fit a 13 year old. He found it within seconds, the light glistening of the metal as his flashlight passed it. He sped toward it, relief flooding through him.
Dean observed the metal door, as big as a dumbwaiter opening. He searched for the handle in the darkness, but to his astonishment, found no handle.
"Looking for something?" A familiar voice spoke from behind him.
Ashley, Dean thought. He tensed as he stood up and slowly turned.
"What are you?" he asked instantly. He knew that he was a fool to have trusted Ashley. He wondered how he could have been so easy-going until he had started worrying hours later.
The coven. The hex bag on Sammy, he thought.
Witch.
"You're a witch, aren't you? Well, you sly son of a bitch.." He said.
"Oh, you don't kiss your mommy with that mouth, now do you, Dean? Ah, it's about time you realized. Put that first charm on you without even thinking." She said as she emerged toward him from the cave.
"You obi-waned me with some kind of love crap at the school, didn't you?" He asked, remembering how he was so ecstatic to believe that Sam had really gone off without telling Dean.
She advanced on him, putting her lips to Dean's ear. Dean stood still. "You're a fast learner, aren't you, now? Not as fast as your little Sammy, though." She smiled and retreated two feet. She smiled evilly.
"Just give me my brother." He barked. He couldn't help the anger that was resurfacing.
She tsk-tsk'd at Dean.
"Afraid I can't, sugar. I'm not the one who makes the orders, I take them." She said lightly.
"Oh yeah. Then who orders them?" Dean asked.
"What orders them?" he rephrased.
"Roddnie." She said simply. She looked around as if bored by their current situation.
"What the hell is this kid?" He asked, anger resurfacing.
"Raw head." She replied, again as if bored.
"Not long before your brother is puppy chow, Dean." She smiled.
Dean was furious. He had done research for his father on raw head's once. They fed on children that were supposedly naughty. The fact that something had wanted Sam as a midnight snack angered him.
"And what orders did he give you?" He asked.
"To take out little Sammy Winchester's protector. His big brother. Dean." She said. She smiled wickedly again at Dean.
Dean was suddenly happy. At least nothing was really after Sam with the hex bag, he thought.
"Sorry, sweetheart, but I ain't dyin'. Not tonight." He said, with a simple smile. He remained calm as he always had on previous hunts when they could be in danger.
"And what possibly makes you believe you could stop me?" She asked, still the same silkiness in her voice.
"The remaining thought that this cannibal is gonna gnaw on my brother like a piece of meat. And the fact that my father and I have been hunting long enough to know how to etch enchantments like crosses on every bullet we have" He said, his hand gripping the gun firmly, now pointing it at Ashley.
The witch stopped smiling, and suddenly, her face went pale. "Have fun in hell." Were his last words.
The witch made a daring run for it, trying to dodge the oncoming bullet but failed at her attempt, the bullet hitting her square in the chest. She dropped instantly, blood pouring from her chest. Dean strutted toward the witch, examining her closely, not wanting to take any chances at the bitch being alive.
He turned her body to look at his work at shooting her in the chest. He nodded his head in satisfaction. "That extra training time came in handy, I guess. Thank god dad etched crosses on these bullets" he muttered to himself.
Now to find the bitch who wants to gnaw on my brother, Dean thought.