"Smith!"
Dean's muffled challenge worked as the catalyst Julie needed to continue her journey through the darkness. It was obvious her benevolent stranger was doing everything in his power to keep her safe. For Julie to stop now and cower in terror as she wanted would be for her to fail both Dean and Christine.
They needed help.
She should have allowed Dean to go for help when he'd suggested it instead of blindly leading the young officer into this mess. Now, he was throwing himself in the line of fire to protect her. She had to do something.
With her hands held out before her, Julie kept up her forward momentum. She had no idea where the tunnel would lead her, but it couldn't be anywhere worse than what she'd just vacated.
The smoothly hewn walls seemed to be made of stone as was the flooring. Now that she'd traveled some distance, noise had become limited to the sound of her own panicked breathing and echoing footfalls.
The vile smell of Smith's house gave way to one of damp and mold just as she realized she was traveling slightly uphill. Anxious to leave the dank tunnel, the leggy blonde picked up her pace, her arms held out before her.
Hope began to replace despair when she realized she could see the faint outline of her hands. As the light grew stronger, a fresh breeze wafted over her face bringing with it the smell of fresh air.
The clean sent of pine and earth was enough to drive all thoughts of her aching shoulder away, replacing them instead with thoughts of freedom. Picking up speed, she barely noticed when the man-made tunnel walls gave way to the more natural formation of a cave.
Gaze pinned to the small opening she could barely make out, Julie burst from the cave with a desperate cry.
888
"Hullo?"
John Winchester closed his eyes at the cry that reverberated through the old schoolhouse. It had been nearly a half-hour since the boys had left to find help. Since then despite his best efforts he'd been unable to free himself.
As near as he could tell he was unhurt. However, the crossbeam that had him pinned was bearing most of the weight of the collapsed floor. No matter how he worked to pull his leg free, he couldn't get loose.
"Yeah!" he shouted his voice hoarse from the dust and dirt that had been kicked up at his fall.
Night had long since fallen leaving the elder Winchester in the dark, now though as he watched the hole above, he noticed a growing light. With his gaze pinned to the ragged opening above, he silently urged whoever had found him to hurry.
The more time that passed, the more certain he was that Sam would do something stupid. That something would no doubt be setting off to find his brother on his own. John, more times than not, regretted the sense of self-reliance he'd fostered in both his boys. It always came back to bite him in the ass just when he least expected it.
Though Sam was not as likely to run off half-cocked, when it came to his older brother all bets were off. In defense of Dean, his youngest son became a stranger. A feral, snarling bastard that would mow down anything that stood between him and the twenty-year old, even if that someone was their own father.
It was a trait that had grown as exponentially as his relationship with Sam had deteriorated. Once upon a time, his baby boy had entrusted John to look out for Dean. That was no longer the case, now Sam was just as likely to turn on John as to turn to him for help.
"Hey, dude, you okay?"
John closed his eyes briefly as a grizzled old man peered over the lip of the rotten floor. No wonder it had taken so long for help to come, if those boys had to wait for gramps to hobble his ass down to the abandoned school.
"Yeah, believe it or not I'm good. Just stuck."
"Well, crap, that sucks."
Biting back the curse he longed to utter, John replied easily, "Yeah, you said it. You think you could find someone to help get me out of here?"
The grizzled man shot a line of spit from his mouth, the dregs dripping down onto his yellowed beard and pushed the baseball cap that rested on his head back. "We'll getcha' out, I brought Daryl."
"Daryl?" John's gaze tried to penetrate the void beyond the old-man but was unable.
"Yup, Daryl. He'll get you out, if them steps don't collapse under him," The man drawled.
Still unsure who or even what Daryl was, John settled down to wait. It was obvious that rushing this rescue was going to be impossible. Instead, he set his mind to just where his oldest son had disappeared to.
888
Dean was shit out of luck. While that was really nothing new, given the fact his name was Winchester, it still sucked. You'd think by now he would have gotten used to having the crap knocked out of him by every freak of nature that crossed his path. Unfortunately the decidedly cold breeze wafting over his bare legs made it clear that this freak hadn't been satisfied with just beating him unconscious.
With a prayer of thanks that at least his brother was safe from Smith's brand of crazy, he worked to pry one eye open.
"You awake?" a voice rasped.
Unsure if he'd be able to generate any sound, Dean opened his mouth and croaked, "Honestly, not sure."
"If it looks like your worst nightmare, then you're awake," the woman replied.
Dean pulled at the restraints that held down his arms and registered the fact that he wore only his boxers and a tee-shirt. He lay upon a bare bed frame, with the lower half of his legs hanging off. "More like a bad S & M video. Smith's not gonna walk in here wearing a black leather bustier and holding a whip is he?"
"I'm thinking it's more of a snuff film," the woman replied.
Despite the restraints, Dean struggled against his bonds in order to put a face to the voice.
Lying prone and chained to the filthy floor was a dark haired woman wearing nothing but a pair of dirty cotton panties and bra.
"Christine?"
At his words tears pooled in the young woman's eyes. "Yeah," she confirmed, "is Julie alive?"
Guilt lanced through Dean at the hope in her eyes. "Far as I know, I tried distracting Smith, give her time to get away."
With a moan that could have been a laugh, the broken woman replied, "You distracted him alright. I thought he was gonna pop a blood vessel he was so pissed. He pulled me off that thing and gave you the place of honor."
Dean managed a smile at the idea that he'd thrown a wrench in the bastard's plans. "Good, any idea where Grandpa Munster went?"
"You and I are here," Christine groaned, "that just leaves Jules."
"How long's he been gone?" Dean questioned as he studied the handcuffs that held him down. Given the right tool, he'd be able to pick the cuffs in less than a minute.
"Not sure, I passed out for a bit. I've been awake for about fifteen minutes now."
"Good," Dean muttered as he strained this way and that looking for something he could use. His examination produced nothing that he could reach, but he did happen to notice his gear stashed in the corner of the room.
"Good?"
His boots, jeans and duffle bag were piled up, just begging to be of use. "Yeah, good. That means he's having a hard time finding her."
"She can't outrun him."
Dean nodded his head in agreement as he continued working the problem at hand. "But, she can avoid him long enough to get to safety. Can you move at all?"
Dark eyes, surrounded by even darker bruises, glanced up to meet Dean's steady gaze. "No," she whimpered.
The hunter's heart went out to the poor young girl. It was obvious whatever Smith had done he'd come close to destroying her. With that in mind, he couldn't help but be thankful he'd managed to turn Smith's ire upon himself. Only problem was, if Smith got away with whatever he planned to do, the woman would be left unprotected and at his mercy once more.
"I need to know what he plans. Do you have any idea?"
A single tear escaped Christine's large brown eyes. "I think that axe might have something to do with it."
Almost against his will, Dean's bright green gaze darted toward the closed door, where an axe leaned against the discolored wall. "He didn't use it on you."
"What do you know about Greek legends?"
Suddenly certain he'd rather not know, but unable to turn away any information that might help to save them, Dean replied, "A bit actually." Ancient history and cultural studies were one area of schooling that even Dean had paid attention to. In their line of work, most of the creatures that crossed their paths originated somewhere. Plus one couldn't live with Sam Winchester and not pick up a few things.
"Yeah, well, I remember reading a story about one of Poseidon's sons." The young woman took a shallow breath and continued, "Story goes he used to lure in travelers, once he had them in the house, he would offer them his spare bed."
"Well, that can't be good."
Christine frowned at his joking tone. "Anyway, once the traveler lay down, he would strap them down. If the victim was too short..." here she gestured toward herself, "he would stretch them until they fit the bed. If they were too tall..."
Dean's gaze shot to the axe once more. "You've got to be kidding me."
"There's an awful lot of you hanging off that bed," Christine offered.
"What happened to...uh..."
"Procrustes," she supplied, "supposedly he was killed by Theseus. He was tortured on his own bed."
"I guess there's some kind of poetic justice in that," Dean replied wryly. "So you think Smith's actually this Procrustes?"
Christine's eyes which had slid shut at the end of her tail popped open at Dean's words. Even from across the room, he could clearly see the sudden wariness in her gaze. He quickly backtracked, "I mean, Smith's gettin' his rocks off by playing host?"
"Something like that," the young girl murmured as she relaxed once more.
"Okay, well I'm not gonna wait around for Smith to come size me up. We're getting gone while the getting's good."
Without opening her eyes, she asked, "And how do you propose we do that?"
"Well, for beginners, I'm gonna need you to toss me one of the bobby pins you have in your hair. Then I'm gonna get us both out of here."
Even from this distance Dean could see Christine's smirk. "Hate to break it to you, Houdini, but I don't have any bobby pins."
Undeterred, he tried another tact. "Take off your bra."
Christine snorted. "Like I haven't heard that one before, 'Oh, we're in a life threatening position, quick take off your bra!'"
Dean stretched even more to meet the brunette's sardonic smirk. "I promise you if my shorts came with under wire I'd be more than happy to sacrifice them for the cause."
"You can really pick a lock with the under wire from a push-up bra?"
"I know, it's a gift. However, with my hands strung up I won't be able to get us free."
"So....what's the point?"
With his best smile firmly in place, Dean assured her, "I'm gonna talk you through it."
Doubt clouded Christine's expression. "I don't think..."
"You can do it, I promise," the hunter pressed.
More tears made their way down her pixie-like face. "It's not that. I don't think I can get it off. Everything just hurts so much."
Given the bruises covering the young girl's olive skin, Dean couldn't doubt her words. Problem was he was out of ideas and Smith wouldn't stay away forever. "Well, you could just lay there till Smith gets his shit together and gets back here."
With a pained groan Christine muttered, "low blow. Don't look."
Glad that she was able to push through the pain, Dean averted his eyes and moved onto the next phase of his plan. Getting loose was all fine and well, but getting the nearly incapacitated Christine out of danger was not gonna be a walk in the park either.
888
Sam strained his eyes as he studied the dark road before him. So far he'd found no sign of either his brother or the Impala. He cursed himself for his earlier optimism. Just because he knew his brother had taken this road, didn't mean he was going to find a giant arrow pointing leading him to Dean. Any one of the turnoffs he had passed could have been the one the twenty year old took.
"Come on, Dean," he muttered as he slowed to a near crawl. The headlights of the Subaru did little to cut through the thick forest that surrounded them. "Come on."
Just then Sam caught a flash of white from the corner of his eye darting toward the road. Slamming on his brakes, the car fish-tailing slightly, he came to a jolting stop only inches from the woman that now stood shaking before him.
Wide eyed and frozen, she gasped for breath. He had no doubt if he'd been traveling even five miles an hour faster he wouldn't have been able to stop. With a decidedly shaky hand, he put the car into park and climbed from the vehicle.
"Are you all right?" he called out as he moved toward the young blonde woman.
"He's coming," she said with a moan as she suddenly darted toward the passenger-side door.
Before Sam could react she'd climbed inside and was screaming at him to move. Unsure of what was happening but certain the woman was scared out of her mind, Sam re-claimed his seat.
As soon as he was settled, she slammed one hand down on the dashboard and screamed, "Go, go, go!"
Acting on instinct alone, Sam threw the car into gear and hit the accelerator. Though he'd only had his license for a couple months now, he'd learned to drive nearly two years ago. As soon as his first major growth spurt had allowed him to reach the pedals, Dean had begun his lessons. His older brother had always placed a major emphasis in not only knowing how to drive, but also in how to get the most out of your vehicle. A glimpse at the rear-view mirror showed a dark figure dashing into the road behind them making him thankful for the lessons.
The girl sat rocking in her seat one hand braced on the dashboard as she seemed to quietly urge the car to go faster.
Though he was reluctant to acknowledge it, Sam couldn't help but note that the dark figure kept up only a foot off the bumper until he at last crested forty-five miles per hour. It was only then that the car began to pull away.
A high-pitched keening sound drew his attention away from the roadway behind them and focused it on the girl next to him. "It's okay," he reassured her.
"No," she cried, "No, it's not okay. I left him. I left both of them."
Unsure of what she meant, but confident that it couldn't be good, Sam began to look for a place to pull over.
"Keep going," the blonde urged.
"We lost him," Sam answered automatically. A quick glance in the rear-view confirmed that his words were true.
"Doesn't matter, he said to go to the clearing, if anything went wrong I had to get to the clearing."
Slightly afraid of the babbling woman at his side, Sam settled on agreeing with her. "Okay, the clearing, yeah, right, you don't happen to know where this clearing is do you?"
His words served to bring the woman's focus off the road behind them and settle it firmly on the road before them. "Just keep going, we're nearly there."
"Will do," Sam replied as his gaze again darted toward his rear-view. "Can you tell me what's going on? Maybe I can help you."
With a dismissive gesture the girl leaned slightly forward one hand still resting lightly on the dashboard, the other held close to her body. "You can't help me, he told me to get to the clearing, that I would be safe there, safe until they come. They'll come he promised."
"Right, the clearing."
"The clearing...clearing...clearing...clearing...," she repeated until her voice trailed off completely.
"You wanna tell me about your friend back there?"
"He's got them," she moaned.
Sam glanced toward her as she brought a scrap of bright red material up and under her nose with a huge snort. The cloth was red patterned with white and appeared to be a bandanna. Ragged and wet with use it was obviously not the first time the girl had used the handkerchief.
Without thinking, he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a clean bright red bandana. As he listened to the woman sniffle and snort, he could only imagine just how grossed out his brother would be.
Despite having seen Sam through all his childhood ailments with nary a complaint, snot was the one body fluid that had always set the elder Winchester on edge. The moment Sam had felt the slightest head-cold coming on, his older brother would press upon him hanky after hanky in a desperate attempt to keep a much younger Sam from sniffling.
Holding the cloth out to the woman Sam offered, "Here, looks like you need a clean one."
The woman stared with wild eyes at the offering for a long tense moment before dragging her old handkerchief back toward her chest. "No, I'm gonna give this one back to him," she declared in a firm voice.
"Give it back to him?" Sam questioned, with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
"There," she yelled, as she ignored him and practically climbed over his lap, pointing toward the left.
With one arm, he shoved her back into her seat and slowed to a near crawl. There on the left was a break in the near constant wall of pine trees. With a prayer that he didn't get Jane's car stuck, he maneuvered his way into the clearing.
It was only once he was fully inside the bit of open space that he saw a familiar shape looming out of the darkness.
"Dean," he breathed, as a million emotions threatened to overwhelm him.
His brother's car sat only feet away, chrome shining bright in the moonlit night. He'd found his brother, but not before the older hunter had found trouble. All of a sudden, what he'd dismissed earlier as mindless babbling began to take on a great significance.
"Did you say Dean?" she questioned as she reached out and wrapped one long-fingered hand around his bicep.
Rather than the relief he'd hoped for, the idea that this woman knew his brother and was most likely following the other hunter's instructions only served to make Sam feel nauseas. "My brother, Dean," he bit out as he carefully watched her expression.
"Are you kidding me? You're the help I'm supposed to wait for? You're a baby for christ's sake."
The girl's outburst worked like a slap in his face, drawing him out of his stupor. With a growl, he shoved her backward wedging her between the seat and the door. "Where's my brother?"
His action seemed to prove something to the young woman as she blinked in shock. "I don't know. I did what he told me to do. He said to come here to the clearing, to wait in the shack till help came."
Sam jerked his head up and focused on the clearing. There to the northwest stood a dilapidated building that had seen better times. Giving her no time to protest, he shoved open the door of the car and wrenched the girl over the bucket seats and out his side of the car. "Come on," he ordered.
Whether it was self-preservation or just an eagerness to finally reach her destination, the young woman kept up with his long-legged stride. As he moved past Dean's baby, he noted the fact that she was resting on three flat tires. He could only imagine how pissed his brother would be when he found out.
Once he reached the threshold, he tucked the girl securely behind him and pulled out the gun he'd stashed in the waistband of his jeans. Though he had no clue what he was dealing with the weapon offered him a measure of peace.
Carefully, he edged his way into the doorway and did a quick scan of the barren room. The only thing of interest was the salt line that ran before the door and the windows and one of his brother's familiar green duffle bags resting near the opening.
With a quick glance at the clearing behind him, Sam pulled the woman forward and shoved her inside the hovel. "Who are you and where's my brother?" he questioned as soon as she was safe behind the salt line.
If the other hunter had warned the woman to come back here at the first sign of trouble, like she said, then he could only assume she was a victim not a threat. Still, he'd learned enough in his sixteen years to realize that threats came in all shapes and sizes.
"He's at the house, or," she amended, "at least I think he is. We were together, when Smith jumped us. I found my way out, but your brother..."
"My brother what?" Sam snarled.
"I don't think he made it out. Now that freak has him and Christine," the girl moaned.
Sam waved a hand in desperation and tried another tact. "Okay, listen, just start at the beginning. What's your name?"
The young girl took a deep breath and began, "My name's Julie..."
TBC
Chapter End Notes:
Okay so here we go, Sammyboy to the rescue ;) Catch you next week - kel ;)