Author's Chapter Notes:
Well, here it is at last and only a week and an hour late....guh. I would appologize for missing last weeks update but honestly I just had way too much fun to feel guilty...lol. Hopefully you all will forgive me and believe me when I say next weeks update will happen on time.
Chapter 5
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Christine hated sleeping in the car. In motion or at a standstill she could never quite get comfortable enough to really rest. Take now for instance, no matter how she twisted and turned she couldn't ease the ache that had set up residence along her spine.
With a sigh that wasn't quite a whimper she shifted again and squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Exhaustion pulled at her, demanding that she give in to sleep, but her body wouldn't obey.
The pain in her spine continued to nag her, working its way up from the center of her back and flaring into her shoulders. It was then she realized something was wrong, really wrong.
"Jules?" she questioned. Finally, she gave in and pried open one sleep filled eye.
Reality slammed into Christine, stealing her breath setting her heart to pounding.
Christine had gone to sleep in the Ford, only to re-awaken with that whacked-out Smith hovering over her as he finished strapping her to some kind of bed. Once he'd secured her to his satisfaction, he'd mentioned something about tracking down Jules.
The petite brunette blinked away the tears that had flooded her eyes and lifted her head to look around. Dingy lace curtains limply framed the window, allowing sunshine to stream into the room. The light brightened every corner of the space, giving her an unvarnished view of the chamber.
There was no comfort to be found in the rays. Instead, she found herself wishing she was still in the dark. Anything would be preferable to what she was seeing.
In the light of day, the walls looked to be a mixture of rust red and chocolate brown. If taken out of context she would have almost admired the spray-like technique that gave the plaster a textured look.
However, the sight of a stained canvas drop cloth spread out beneath the makeshift bed made it hard to ignore what Smith had used for 'paint'. If the splatters and gore covered cloth wasn't enough, the cuffs that kept her secured to the bed drove away any doubts.
Her one saving grace was the fact that the man had yet to return. Near as she could figure, given the amount of sunshine that streamed through the window he'd been gone for at least five or six hours. If in that time he'd been unable to find Julie, well, then that was even better.
Realistically she knew there was little chance she'd be able to save herself. Smith obviously wasn't some random dude that took advantage of a situation in the spur of the moment. The room she now found herself in was proof of that. Still it wasn't going to keep her from at least trying. With a sniff, she jerked against the bands of steel encircling her wrists.
Somewhat revived by the sleep she'd gotten, she firmed her resolve and began to methodically jerk at the holds on her ankles.
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Smith's lip curled in smug satisfaction as he stepped over a native tribal symbol traced in the loamy soil. He couldn't help the thrill of excitement that danced up his spine at the sight of that mark. It was obvious that Julie's would-be rescuer wasn't of the ordinary sort.
His earlier excitement at the idea of three victims increased ten-fold as he contemplated just how much fun it would be to hunt a hunter. For too long he'd been content to remain in the shadows, remaining ever vigilant to avoid notice from those that knew the truth.
It hadn't been hard.
In this country, huntsmen were solitary men who avoided contact with each other. Their knowledge, already scanty at best, often died out rather than continue through the generations. That gave Smith a distinct advantage.
Giving credit where credit was due, he had to admit the protection symbols were a smart move on the young man's part. A large and varied number of beings would think twice before stepping over the invisible line drawn in the dirt.
Unfortunately for the hunter, the girl and that beautiful black car, now resting on triple flats, it hadn't been enough. His was an evil so ancient only the rawest of elements offered any real challenge.
The sandy-haired youth had done better inside the shanty. Though Smith could clearly see inside the building and had in fact gazed upon both Julie and the man, he'd been unable to enter. The salt line that had been laid across the doorways and windows had done what little else could do, block his entrance.
No matter, Smith thought as he picked up his pace. Eventually the couple would have to leave the shelter and then they'd be his. In the meantime, he had plenty to keep him occupied.
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"I won't stay," Jules cried as she dragged a now sopping wet handkerchief under her nose once more.
Ever since they'd taken refuge in the small one room shack the girl had been a font of water and snot. Dean had honestly never seen anyone look quite as disgusting while crying.
More than once he'd had a girl turn on the waterworks with the intention of manipulating him, but never had he seen anyone just full out cry like Julie. This was no affected single tear trickling prettily down her cheek.
Instead, a fountain of water streamed from her bloodshot eyes and dripped from her chin. Her complexion had grown splotchy, making her resemble a drunk on a two-day bender. If the tears and the florid complexion wasn't enough to have him keeping his distance the near constant sniffling had done the trick.
Not since Sam was a toddler had he seen such unabashed crying.
Luckily, his disgust for her current state was second to his admiration for her courage. Despite the tears, she remained gung-ho in her desire to rescue her friend. Rarely did he find someone so willing to sacrifice their own safety in order to help another. Especially when you took into account the fact that there was no blood shared between the two women.
Now if only he could convince her to leave the actual saving to him.
He felt confident the salt-line he'd used to seal the perimeter of the hut would hold against Smith. If the man had been able to breach the line, he would not have stopped at slashing his baby's wheels.
"This isn't up for argument. This son-of-a-bitch is itchin' to get his fingers on you again, I can't look out for you and help your friend."
From Dean's point-of-view the idea that Christine was still alive was pretty laughable. Near as Dean could figure, Smith had come and gone a couple hours ago leaving the freaky bastard with plenty of free time. What he might have done with all that extra time was another good reason for Julie to stay behind.
"We're wasting time talking about it," Julie pouted.
The way she stood, her arms crossed, her lower lip pushed out in a full sulk, again, put Dean in mind of a much younger Sam.
"Yeah, you're absolutely right. We are wasting time, time your friend doesn't have," Dean snarled as he squared his stance and glared back. Confident that the weight of his frown would be enough to make the girl cave, he waited for her surrender.
Surprisingly she shrugged her good shoulder and caved, "Fine, you're right. You can go ahead."
Though it was what he wanted, her sudden capitulation made him nervous.
"Excuse me?" he questioned.
"I said, go ahead."
Dean raised an eyebrow in disbelief and questioned, "and you'll stay here?"
Julie's gaze firmed as she replied, "Well, I didn't say that."
"You wouldn't," Dean growled as he began to run through scenarios in which he left the young girl hogtied on the shanty floor.
"Try me," was Julie's only reply as she continued to stare the hunter down.
As much as he admired the girl's grit, he was past done with her foolishness. "I can make you stay here."
"Really," she bit out, "and just how are you going to do that. Leave me tied up and helpless while you try to find Smith. What if he circles back here? I wouldn't be able to lift a finger to defend myself."
As much as he'd love to refute her words, Dean had yet to give the woman the whole 'truth is out there' speech. He'd left her with her assumption that Smith was simply some backwoods bastard getting his rocks off.
It had seemed easier, and less likely to cause her to run away screaming, to let her hold onto the reality she was familiar with. Even now that she'd begun to trust him somewhat, explaining the salt lines would only shatter what little faith she had in him.
"Listen, sister, if I decide to hogtie you and leave you behind, you can bet that skinny ass of yours that no one, Smith included would be able to get to you."
The steel in Julie's spine seemed to leak out as the young woman slumped to the ground. "Please, don't leave me here alone."
Dean stared hard at the blonde, his jaw clenched in frustration. This was the first time the girl had shown any fear for herself. Her admission hit home as little else would have.
At last, Dean asked, "Can you fire a shotgun?"
His words had Julie gaining her feet as quickly as her shoulder would allow. Doubts nagged the young hunter as he took in the willowy blonde's sudden fierce look. He couldn't help but feel as if he'd been played when she replied.
"No, but I can learn."
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Sam stared long and hard at the map, as his finger traced what had been his brother's route. Taking a highlighter in hand, he marked the path and then began to break up the route into counties. Finding his brother would be no small feat given the amount of territory the hunter had to travel. Near as Sam could figure there were at least four counties that touched upon Dean's path.
By focusing on the task at hand he was able to push away the near incapacitating terror that threatened to destroy him. Over and over again he worked to convince himself that his fears were unfounded that his brother had merely gotten waylaid and would soon contact either himself or their father.
Anyone that had a passing acquaintance with his brother would think the twenty year old was nothing but a clown. With his swagger and attitude, Dean liked nothing better than to play fast and loose when it came to his personal life.
However, when it came to the hunt there was no one as responsible as his older brother. When working, Dean was like a force of nature, nothing could stand in his path and survive.
It was that knowledge that left Sam with the urge to vomit. It didn't help that his father had charged him with finding his brother on his own. Though the youngest Winchester had taken to doing a large part of the research over the last year and a half he'd never taken on such a responsibility.
Determined to do it right and fast, Sam forced his focus back to the map.
Once he'd divided the route, he then grabbed the old rotary phone that stood ready on the table, and put in a call to information. Despite knowing that he was searching for a needle in a stack of needles he dialed information and began to methodically ask for the phone numbers for each county's morgue, police station, and hospitals. He then asked for one last number from the overworked operator.
After he'd dropped the phone into the cradle he looked over the list of numbers he'd collected and sighed tiredly, it was going to be a long and frustrating night, one that offered little in the way of hope.
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"So, Christy, my girl, are you ready to get started?"
Christine couldn't stop the low moan that rose out of her throat as she jerked against the bindings that held her. The sound of Smith's overly chipper voice caused her stomach to roil in fright. Afraid that she was about to vomit, she rolled slightly to the right and drew in a deep calming breath. The last thing she wanted was to choke to death on her own vomit.
Then again, she thought to herself as she caught sight of Smith, maybe it would be the preferable way out.
The crazy bastard rubbed his hands in anticipation as he approached the side of her bed. He'd changed into a pair of denim overalls and a white cotton shirt. She couldn't for the life of her understand just what game he was playing but as she continued to fight down her nauseas she found herself unable to care.
All that really mattered was getting loose. Well, she amended, getting loose and not vomiting on herself.
"Now, young lady, I've taken care of your little friend for the moment, leaving me free to focus on you a bit."
The idea of Smith's focus falling solely on her didn't sound promising. In fact, she was pretty sure there could be nothing worse.
Then he pulled a pair of bright silver kitchen shears from the pocket of his bib-overalls causing Christine to re-evaluate just how much worse things could get.
"Don't touch me," she growled in a pathetic attempt to hide her fear from the monster before her.
"This wont hurt a bit," Smith said as he waved aside her protests and moved toward her jean clad leg. With very little effort, he grabbed hold of her leg, easily subduing her struggling limb. He then began to cut away her pants and exposing the skin beneath.
As the man continued to cut away her clothing, Christine began to scream. The raw, nearly inhuman sounds were unlike anything she'd ever produced before and despite the pain in her throat she was unable to stop. It was only after her vocal chords would no longer cooperate that the piercing shrieks became a low moaning sound.
Diligent in his work, Smith was true to his word causing the petite brunette no harm. Other than the occasional brush of the metal shears against her skin, he caused her no real discomfort. The bastard proved to be much stronger than her and had no trouble subduing Julie despite her best efforts.
Left lying in nothing more than her white cotton panties and bra, Christine felt vulnerable as she never had before. Again, the urge to vomit came upon her causing her to gag. As she lay strapped to the table the cold air caressing her bare skin she found it harder and harder to hold back the bile she could feel rising in her throat.
Overcome by the urge to retch, Christine was no longer able to control her body. As she began to heave, Smith reached for her.
"Oh, no, you don't. Onto your side you go. If you're going to purge I won't risk having you asphyxiate on it." He then placed one of his cold white hands on her side and forced her to turn as much as the cuffs would allow.
Having had nothing but water for the last twelve hours, Christine's stomach could produce little more than bile. That didn't seem to deter the heaves that continued to shudder through her long after her stomach was empty. Each retch caused her to pull against the cuffs holding her arms causing a bone deep ache in her shoulder.
At last, her body calmed allowing her to ease the pressure on her shoulder. Smith who had faded into the background at her vomiting reappeared with a bottle of water. Despite knowing that the water could spiked with any number of things, Christine allowed the man to pour a measure of the cold liquid into her mouth.
Smith gestured toward the floor and said easily, "There's no reason to swallow that, just rinse and spit. You won't hurt the floor."
The water had helped to center Christine's focus once more. At Smith's words, every bit of her earlier anger returned making her feel strong. Not even bothering to think it through, the young woman went ahead and spit the water at the tall silver-haired man.
To her immense satisfaction, the water hit Smith point blank, staining the front bibs of his overalls.
Her anger overcoming her sense of self-preservation Christine rasped, "Bite me, you freak."
Smith's chuckle, as he swiped a handkerchief across his chest, was unexpected to say the least. "Come now, child, I think I made it clear that I have no interest in taking a bite out of you."
Afraid to ask, but even more afraid of the images her imagination was conjuring, Christine muttered, "What are you going to do?"
The creep reached out, trailing one white hand down her abdomen, across her hipbone and down her thigh. Though she wanted to fight and rail against the touch, she knew doing so would be a waste of time and energy. Better to bite her lip and wait for an opportunity.
Once he'd reached her ankle, Smith's neatly manicured hand jumped to her other leg and began to trail back up her skin. Goosebumps began to break out wherever his hand touched and her shivering reached epic proportions.
"You poor thing, you're cold. I'll go ahead and adjust the thermostat for you," Smith chuckled as he came to a stop at her left side.
"Thanks," Christine muttered sarcastically.
Smith's smile was magnanimous at what he took to be praise. "Well, I'm nothing if not reasonable."
With these words, the blue-eyed man clapped his hands together and grinned. "Now, shall we begin?"
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"Okay, just forget it. You'll never manage with that shoulder of yours," the sandy-haired man snapped as he reached for the sawed-off shotgun Julie held.
"Just give me another chance," she argued, her voice wavering as she jerked the weapon out of his reach. "I know I can do this."
At the warble in her voice, Dean's expression turned from irritated to sympathetic.
"Listen, it's not going to happen. You can't load one handed and the recoil from the shot is gonna put you on your knees."
Dean's matter-of-fact words only served to bring tears to her eyes once more. The idea of coming face to face with Smith scared her more than she wanted to admit. Despite being unable to wield the weapon its solid feel and heavy weight gave her a surge of confidence that she desperately needed.
"Please," she begged making no effort to stop the tears that slipped down her cheeks.
With a much-abused sigh, the handsome man reached into his pocket and pulled out yet another bandanna. Julie had to admit he came prepared. If she didn't know better she'd have assumed that he held stock in the company that makes the handkerchiefs. Ever since her first breakdown, which admittedly had been followed by several others, he'd continued to produce clean hanky's left and right. The guy was a regular boy scout.
"How about I give you something a little more your speed?" Dean asked as he held out a hand for the weapon.
Julie reluctantly handed over the gun in exchange for the red hanky and asked, "What?
With his eyes sparkling in amusement, the young man held up one hand to indicate patience and turned toward one of the large duffle bags he'd grabbed from his car earlier in the day. Earlier, Julie had wondered aloud just what he had inside the sacks but he'd given her the brush-off by telling her it was just some 'stuff' that might come in handy.
Considering that so far he'd managed to produce a medical kit that would rival any army medic, several bottles of water, a blanket, some power bars, two shotguns, a bandolier of shells and the aforementioned bandanas from the bags, she had decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
The copious amounts of weapons and ammo had worried her slightly until he'd admitted that he used his car in his line of work. Though she'd had her doubts that the head-turning black car could pass unnoticed on even the simplest of stakeouts, she had to admit the vehicle would never be mistaken for a cop car.
"Here, I think this'll suite you better."
Julie returned her gaze to the green-eyed man before her in eagerness. Hoping to score a gun that would rival Dirty Harry's, she was a bit thrown off when he instead handed her what looked to be a pry bar.
"What am I supposed to do with this? Jimmy his locks?" Julie asked as she hefted the solid feeling piece of iron in her hand.
Dean shot her a smile and again knelt beside the bags. Though his back was to Julie it appeared that he was transferring belongings from one bag to the other.
"Trust me, this guy's not the gun type. If he gets close enough that you can get a swing in, it's gonna do some damage," he said as he turned to face her, the shotgun in hand and a duffle over his arm.
Swinging the tool a few times to get a feel for it, Julie had to concede that if swung hard enough it would cause some serious hurt.
"Now, this is the way it's going to be," Dean said, gesturing to Julie with the gun. "You are going to do what I say when I say it."
Not wanting to risk getting left behind, Julie nodded and said, "Of course, I'll do just what you say, I promise."
With a lazy grin that belied his serious green eyes the man stepped forward, coming to rest toe to toe with her. Julie couldn't help the shiver that raced down her spine at his nearness, there was something about Officer Winchester that screamed danger.
In her case, the time spent together had assured her that she had nothing to fear from the man. Despite his youth, his proficiency in patching her up had been nothing but professional and the confidence he exuded had put her instantly at ease.
What she had come to realize and what she'd hoped would help save her friend was the feeling that Winchester wouldn't stop until they were safe. She felt certain the aura of danger she sensed would be to her benefit and would eventually lead to Smith's demise.
Dean's hard gaze froze her where she stood as he continued, "Good. Now, we're gonna leave a trail leading back to this cabin. If things go bad your one job, your only goal, will be to return to this cabin."
Julie shifted under his steady stare and nodded.
"You will come inside and you will stay here. You will not venture out for anything. Is that understood?"
Again, Julie nodded, not trusting her voice.
Dean nodded and leaned back slightly. With a hint of a grimace he said, "Good. If you do as I say, you'll be safe. There are people looking for me and as long as you stay here, they'll find you."
"Smith?" Julie couldn't help but ask.
"This place is stronger than it looks. It'll keep Smith out."
While Julie couldn't understand Dean's confidence in the dilapidated shack she didn't refute it. After all, if things went bad it wasn't as if she had many choices.
"I will," she replied.
With a twist of his lips, his expression changed to one of boyish enthusiasm. With a cocky grin he said, "Well then, let's haul ass."
As they exited the shanty and began to make their way across the open field it rested on, the young man picked up his pace, calling over his shoulder, "Let me know when I need to slow down."
Not bothering to reply, she matched him stride for stride as they trotted through the hip high grass that surrounded the building. Feeling more exposed than she ever had in her entire life, Julie stuck tight to Dean's side and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.
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"What are you doing?" Christine moaned in fear as Smith dropped to a knee by her side and began to fiddle with the bed she lay on.
"God...what are you doing?" she called out once more as the bed beneath her began to move. The cot was moving in relation to a faint shushing sound that was coming from where Smith now knelt.
As the noise continued, the restraints that held Christine's extremities became taut causing her back to flair with pain. "Ow...,"
At her cry of pain, Smith's head whipped up and he met her terrified, pain filled glance.
"Hm...a bit more to begin with I believe."
This time, though the sound of scraping continued, Smith kept his gaze on Christine. Unable to stare into his ice blue gaze any longer, Chris turned her face away.
Pain began to burn its way through her arms and legs as the restraints that held her continued to pull her apart. Already stretched to the point that she could move nothing but her fingers, toes, and head, the petite brunette couldn't help but cry out once more. "Please, it hurts, please stop," she gasped.
"What stop already?" Smith replied in a teasing voice.
"Please," Christine begged, unable to spare shame at pleading with her captive.
At her words, Smith suddenly loomed over her, his distinguished countenance seemingly at odds given the current circumstances, and sucked in a breath. "How I love the smell of fear, its memory is what gets me through those long lonely nights."
Trailing his fingertips across Christine's now sweat-soaked body, Smith then touched his fingers to his tongue. "Delightful".
"Please," Chris murmured once more, despite knowing that her pleading would do her no good.
This was no horror movie, there would be no happy ending with her, the brave heroine, walking off into the sunset. Smith was wrong in every sense of the word and he would not be deterred with words.
"Ha ha ha," Smith rumbled with laughter at her pleading. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
Again, he bent and reached beneath the bed.
Even though she knew what to expect, she wasn't able to hold back her scream as the fire in her body increased.
"Ah....that is lovely," Smith crooned as the pressure increased, causing her joints to pop with audible sounds. With the sound, the silver-haired man gained his full height and again leaned over her. "Now, I want you to wait right here, because I've got a little surprise for you."
Even through the pain induced fog she was in, Christine could hear the excitement in Smith's voice. He sounded like a doting grandfather about to bestow a favored grandchild with a special present. Unsure if she'd survive his surprise, Chris closed her eyes, as he practically skipped from the room, and concentrated on not moving.
TBC