Elements of doubt
Chapter 7: Earth
Another element comes into play and Deans on his own for this one.
O.K confession time, I haven't looked at the reviews since I put my last chapter up. I was too embarrassed. So sorry that I didn't reply to anyone, but thank you all very much for reviewing and thanks for the concern Alena. All I can say is in the last year if it can happen it has happened, fortunately it mostly been good; just time consuming.
Also just to let you know the next chapter is done and the final chapter is underway, so the gaps won't be as long as last time.
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"HEY, Sam!" shouted a voice.
Sam paused with his foot resting on the bottom step of the staircase leading to the motels small second floor, coffees in hand and looked around in confusion, only to spot Mac jogging towards him.
"Hey, Mac" He smiled as the man came to lean against the railing next to him.
"How's James?" Queried Mac, genuine concern seeping through his words
"Good enough to be annoying the Hell out of me." Grinned Sam,
Mac laughed. "Well I guess that's good."
Sam was definitely beginning to like this guy.
"Here, this is for you." Mac lifted the large Tupperware pot he was holding. "Chicken noodle soup. My wife made it."
He gave Sam a slightly sheepish grin. "I probably wouldn't eat it if I were you."
A wicked grin slowly started to spread across Sam's face, as he contemplated how he could use this to his advantage. "Don't worry; I'm sure James will love it."
Mac just rolled his eyes, clearly thinking it was better not to get involved. "Speaking of James, I brought this for him."
Sam glanced up at their room's door, before putting down the coffees and taking the bag from Mac. Opening the bag he was more than a little surprised to pull out a small elegant looking vase. It was definitely not something he would ever think to give Dean.
Seeing his confusion, Mac explained. "One of Chris's students made it. I showed James some of her previous work up at the pottery." The corner of his mouth began to twitch with amusement and his voice became heavy with sarcasm as he continued. "He was very complimentary."
A bad feeling began to creep its way up Sam's spine. "I take it this is an improvement?"
Mac raised an eyebrow when Sam failed to see the humor in the gift, but he answered anyway. "Yes a big one. To be honest I've no idea where it came from." He shrugged. "Maybe spoilt little rich girls do make good artists after all."
"So this just came out of the blue?"
That bad feeling had just turned into full blown alarm.
"Yeah, to be honest I never would have thought Hilly would have had it in her. After all she might crack a nail. If she keeps this up I might actually have to give her a job."
The gears in Sam's head began to snap into place. This was so not good.
"Sorry Mac. I've got to get back."
Mac gave him a funny look, clearly disturbed by Sam's sudden odd behavior. "O.K just let me know if you need anything."
Sam just nodded as he headed up the stairs, his arms once more full.
Reaching the door he swiftly opened it, calling out as he did so. "Dean we've got a problem!"
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Dean shifted uncomfortably, his sleep addled brain trying to figure out when it had started raining. It sounded like he was in the middle of a tropical down pour, and come to think of it when had he added his knees to the long list of things that hurt?
He let out a pained groan as the memory of his abduction resurfaced to taunt him. Could this get any more embarrassing? Sam was going to kick his butt into the next state over this. Worse still was going be the constant comments about which brain he was actually supposed to be using.
Moving his head to the side, he was more than a little surprised when he somehow succeeded in ramming his nose into some kind of corner. The sharp pain caused him to try and jerk up right, only to find out he already was.
'Had he literally fallen asleep on his feet? At least that would explain the knees.'
Opening his eyes, he let out a startled gasp at the sight that greeted him.
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Sam searched the small room with a rising sense of panic. Dean was nowhere to be found. Throwing the door open and he yelled down to the Deputy. "Charlie! Get the Sheriff!"
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O.K this was not good. Dean straightened up and immediately cracked his head on the boxes low ceiling. Whoever had made this thing had clearly underestimated his height.
'Damn Sam. The kid was a frigging Sasquatch; no one looked their right size with him around.'
The container was clear Perspex and about the size of your average coffin. Which in itself wasn't an encouraging thought, but it was the scene outside the box that really raised his hackles.
Anger flooded his system, clearing out the cobwebs from his brain and allowing him to focus. He was stuck in the set of a bad horror movie, or worse yet one of those lame Saturday morning cartoons where the villain insisted in trying to kill the insanely perky hero in the most ludicrous way possible.
He was in some kind of silo; he could see the metal walls only feet away.
There was no way Eileen could have got him in here herself and unlike the other attacks he had been subjected to, this just didn't have a supernatural feel to it, it was just too shoddy. Even the box was badly made and over the top, with a large shinny padlock located at waist height. Whoever this merry band of psychopaths that had kidnapped him were; they seemed to have lost their other worldly back-up, at least for the time being.
'Or maybe they were just getting a taste for blood and wanted to get their hands dirty.' He thought morosely.
It wasn't a nice thought but it was the little things in this twisted little game that seemed back the theory up. Like how the box had been set up to give him a great view of the silos ladder only feet away for him. They had probably seen Saw one too many times but were either too squeamish or to stupid to get truly creative. For God's sake somebody had hung the pad lock key a foot from his face on the other side of the Perspex. But the real clincher on the cartoon villain front, the thing that added the ticking clock to the whole scenario was the sand, it fell from the ceiling in a steady stream, bouncing off the roof of the box with a near deafening roar. It had already reached as far as his chest and was still rising.
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"Sam. I need you to focus here."
Sam brought his attention back to the Sheriff and her growing posse of Deputies and towns people. She looked stressed, worry etching deep lines around her eyes and pulling her lips into a tight line. It had already been forty minutes since Dean had disappeared.
"What was Dean wearing when you last saw him?"
Sam licked his dry lips, he needed time to think. He needed to get ahead of the game and this really wasn't helping. Still.
"Grey sweats and a black Metallica T-shirt." Sam winced slightly at the memory of the T-shirt. He had given it to Dean on his twenty-first Birthday.
Going to the concert had been one of the last things they had done together as a family before Sam had left for college. Both he and their Father had unbent enough to actually enjoy the day; Even going as far as to gang up on Dean for his overly enthusiastic participation in some of the concerts stranger rituals. It had been a good day and the fact that his brother seemed to need a reminder of those times told him just how much he was really hurting.
Snapping back to the present he finished. "His biker boots were missing too."
"You heard the man." Pol's voice carried easily across the small crowd. "We're on a deadline people. You have your assignments and your check in schedules. Keep to them. You see anything suspicious you call in. No one goes anywhere alone and nobody makes a move without my say so. Got it?"
Men and Women nodded their faces grim. They may not really understand what was going on or what was being asked of them but the town had been touched by enough tragedy lately that they were willing to fight to prevent anymore.
It brought back the sheriffs words from earlier. "I don't care what is doing this Sam. This is my town and nobody else is going to die. Not on my watch." She had looked him straight in the eye then. "I'll do whatever it takes."
He had to feel sorry for her, she had been skirting around the edge of the supernatural on this case for a while now, but Sam had just asked her to take the kind of leap of faith that most people weren't even capable of and then just to suck it up and get on with her job. All on the basis of a five minute course on supernatural 101 and the word of a man she hadn't even met until a couple of days ago, but she had done just that. Swinging into action as if she was a cross between a marine drill sergeant and a pissed off momma Cougar. It was a sight to behold. Dean would be sorry he'd missed it.
"Jake." Pol motioned for an older man with a shaggy head of graying hair, to come over and join them.
"Jake when you worked up at the Ashton estate, do you remember there being any old mines or caves?"
Jake shook his head. "Nope, nothing like that, but there's a whole bunch of outbuildings nobody uses anymore though."
Pol nodded and rubbed a hand across the back of her neck. 'That would just be too easy wouldn't it?'
"I'm going to need you to check those for me Jake but I need you to do something else for me to. I need you to talk to Laurence Ashton and find out as much as possible about what Hilly's been up to lately. I also need you to find out where she is and I need you to do it without making anyone suspicious."
Jakes weathered face paled but he didn't seem shocked, a fact that made Pol raise her eyebrow.
"Jake?" She queried, the 'What do you know?' clear in her voice.
"Sheriff" Pleaded Jake, clearly uncomfortable.
"Jake." She countered and Jakes shoulders slumped in defeat.
"She's not a bad kid. I've known her all her life and she's not a bad kid, but lately…"
"Lately?" encouraged the Sheriff.
"Lately she's been acting strange, it's got Larry worried. One minute she's happy the next she's jumping at every shadow and……………" He swallowed hard. "Things have been going missing."
"What kind of things?" Asked Sam
Jake shot him a look as if he didn't like talking about this in front of stranger, but then he answered.
"Old stuff, Out of Larry' private collection" He shifted his attention back to Pol, wanting her to understand. "Larry was worried about drugs, which is why he was talking to me"
Jakes own son had gone down that route back in the 80's. He was buried in the towns' small grave yard.
"It's not drugs though is it?"
"No Jake it's not." Confirmed Pol, "We think she might have got involved in a cult"
Sam shifted uncomfortably at the Sheriffs honesty, but Jake just nodded.
"She's always wanted to belong. To be something special" He nodded his head toward Sam, while giving him a sympathetic look. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks Jake. See if you can find out what went missing while you're at it too."
Jake just nodded and walked away.
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'Could this get any more annoying?'
Dean shifted again, ramming his face further into the corner as he tried to find the space to bring his leg up just a little higher.
He reckoned he had been awake for about ten minutes but who knew how long he had been out for before that. This whole thing was taking too long. He needed to get back to Sam and he needed to do it now. It wasn't that he didn't trust Sam to look after himself……well that wasn't true he didn't but what with Sam's' new and annoying tendency to get possessed at every turn, he had good reason. Besides which getting rescued yet again would just be… embarrassing.
The box creaked ominously as he drew his knee up a little more so his fingers could brush the top of his boots. He was only millimeters away from reaching the slim knife he kept hidden there. Taking a deep breath he pushed a little harder ignoring both the pain in his knee and thin spider web of cracks that were beginning to spread from the corner of the box closest to his head and grabbed the knifes hilt.
Giving himself a moment to catch his breath, he glanced up at the one small corner of the box which was still uncovered. He needed to get a move on; as soon as the box was completely covered breathing was going to become an issue. Using the last of the light he scanned the seams of the box. The pieces of the box had been badly cut and small cracks where already beginning to spread out from the nicks and small fractures the cutting process had left behind, as more and more sand began to press down on him.
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Sam slammed his fist into the side of the police cruiser, needing some outlet for his growing frustration. 'This was taking too long.'
"Try that one more time kid. I'll haul your scrawny ass over my knee?" Apparently Pol's temper wasn't doing any better than his own, she was just better at hiding it.
"Sorry." He mumbled, more than a little shamefaced.
Then pulling himself together, he squared his shoulders turned to face the Sheriff.
"I need to be out there Pol. If……." His eyes dropped to the floor, his hands clenching spasmodically by his side for a moment before fixing Pol with a determined stare, ready for a fight. "I've got to find him and I think I'm the only one who can."
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Slipping the knife through the crack in the door behind the lock he began to force the lock hinge loose, keeping up his litany of complaints as he did so. No wonder these people needed a pet muse, it didn't look like they were even capable of passing shop without help. For crying out loud had they stuck this thing together with crazy glue?
At least the shoddy workmanship meant that the hinge was coming loose fairly easily but it was still slow going. The light filtering into the box was virtually non-existent now. He supposed that if he just pushed out hard he could probably just break the box but turning the whole thing into a mass of sand powered shrapnel didn't really appeal, not when he still had a chance of getting out the door.
The hinge gave way with an audible pop. Causing Dean to let out a small yell of triumph, the noise quickly died in his throat though when a section of the door broke loose turning the trickle of sand into a deluge.
'Damn time to get out'. He informed himself unnecessarily.
Wiping a blood stained hand across his face in utter disgust he added the loss of his favorite T-shirt to the list of things somebody was going to pay for. He tore off a wide strip of material to cover his face, his numb bloody fingers making it difficult to tie the knot.
At least some of his luck was holding. The sudden influx of sand had opened up a small gap at the top of the box. It wasn't much but it was enough.
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The fight never came.
"I know kid. I know." Sighed Pol, She looked deflated. Tired and old "Whoever's game this is, it's you they want to play with."
She had been so determined to protect these boys. To protect this town and now it looked like she was going to fail again.
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Getting up onto the roof of box hadn't been as hard as he had thought, getting to the ladder though had been. His jump had fallen short, resulting a belly flop of such proportions that it would have cleared out your average swimming pool. Another painful experience that his already over taxed body wasn't really in the mood to deal with,
Panicking as the sand once more threatened to engulf him, he thrashed wildly until his brain kicked in and told him to stop trying to stand up and just swim for it.
Oh course since the Winchester were nothing if not lucky he found the ladder on his first attempt. Fighting off the urge to curl into a small ball and just call it a day, as he added a bruised wrist to his growing list of complaints, Dean reached out and grabbed the rail he had just hit.
Concentrating on HAPPY thoughts, which for him currently revolved around creative uses for two gallons of premium and a book of matches, he began to climb. It couldn't have been more than 10 feet to the silos small hatch but it felt like a hundred. By the time he'd got to the top his thoughts of revenge had become slightly more unfocused and seemed to now involve a rabbit Jell-O mold and a pink umbrella,
Which just didn't make any sense, even to him but probably went some way towards explaining how he managed to fall out of the hatch, without actually realizing he had got to it.
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Sam pushed down on the gas and tried to let his instincts guide him.
'Who was he kidding? Dean was the one with the gut, he did research.'
'They were so screwed.'
The radio on the seat next to him as yet another team reported in their failure to find any trace of his brother. Slamming his fist into the dash he tried to think what he and the Sheriff had missed when they'd mapped out this search. Maybe they had been wrong to focus so much on earth.
'It couldn't be that complicated? These people wanted him to find Dean. They needed him to find Dean.'
Continuing to speed down the twisted little road it took a second for his brain to register what his eyes were telling him and another to stand on the breaks. Slamming the car into reverse, he shot back the 100ft to where the small sign stood pressed into the hedge.
"Hanson Dean, Gritting Station"
His jaw dropped stupidly, 'Handsome Dean? You have to be kidding me.'
Turning into the drive, he began to consider the fact that this wasn't really complicated it was insane.
The gritting station wasn't large. Just and old barn with a couple of silos for filling the gritting trucks, so it didn't take him very long to figure out where he needed to be or why he had to be there fast.
'No.'
'No.'
'NO!'
'This could not be happening.'
He gripped the sides of the silos hatch until his knuckles turned white and threatened to pop. His knees smacked into the platforms grated floor as he tried not to throw up.
Dean's blood stained amulet dangled from the latch mocking him with his failure, and he had failed. There was no doubt in his mind of that; his brother would never willingly part with the pendant. Only a small corner of the box was still visible, just enough to show a few bloody streaks as if someone had tried to claw their way out of the sand filled box.
The phone he had been holding hit the floor and skittered off across the floor. He didn't care. Fisting the amulet he let out a howl of pain and rage before slamming his fist into the hard metal of the silos wall not caring about the damage he did to himself. He didn't care about anything. His brother was dead.
Dean groaned as a small inconsiderate part of his brain tried to kick the rest into some form of wakefulness. It wasn't doing very well.
The sound of a second anguished howl did the trick though; it was too familiar to be ignored. Sitting up turned out to be more of a hassle than he would have thought. Perhaps cramming himself into such a tight space hadn't been one of his better ideas, not that he remembered making the decision to crawl in here in the first place. It was way too small a space to ever be considered comfortable.
Crawling out from behind the pipes, he got shakily to his feet and looked around the platform for the source of the noise.
"ssAaaum!?!" Now that didn't sound good, he wasn't even sure it counted as English.
Sam didn't respond, he was too busy trying to pound a dent into the silos wall, to hear anything.
"Sam!" It came out better this time sharp, commanding, and only a little high pitched.
Sam stopped this time. He stood frozen to the spot, the muscles in his back locked up, making him stand ram rod straight. He didn't turn around straight away, he didn't want his hopes to be dashed, but in the end be couldn't not look, so he turned around.
His brother looked terrible, blood and sand coating him like a second skin, but most of all he looked pissed.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dean yelled.
"Dean?" The name came out as a whisper, almost a prayer.
Deans' demeanor softened slightly, his brother was such a girl sometimes.
"Who did you expect Samantha?" He asked, plastering on his best smirk as he did so. "Did you really think I'd was going to just sit around and wait for you to get off your ass long enough to come and rescue me?"
The tension drained out of Sam and he collapsed back against the silo wall, sliding down until his butt hit the floor.
"No, I guess not." He grinned.
Dean landed in an untidy heap next to him. "Damn right Princess."
"You look like crap."
Sam shifted slightly in order to get a better look at his brother. He really did look like crap, blood and sand coated the side of his face and he seemed to be having trouble focusing. Catching hold of his chin Sam forced him to look up so he could get a better look at the still oozing cut that was hiding just above his hairline.
"They hit you in the head with a brick or something?"
"No." Mumbled Dean, looking more than a little shame faced all of a sudden.
Sam stared at his brother for a moment and the glanced back up at the hatch, as a grin started to spread across his face.
"You fell out the hatch didn't you?" He laughed still holding his brothers chin.
Dean just glared at him, looking about ready to bite his brother is he didn't let go.
Sam let go and held his hands out to his sides, in a consolatory gesture. More than a little afraid that his brother might actually do it, but still….
"Good thing you landed on your head then, anywhere else and you really could have done some damage."
"Ha. Ha" was the flat and thoroughly unimpressed reply.
"So you got captured by a girl?"
The glower deepened.
"Yeah"
"What a bitch?" Supplied Sam, helpfully
Dean's face contorted further and Sam backed up a little, but then a throaty bark of a laugh broke loose from between his brother's parched lips and he slumped back against the wall. "Yeah, what a bitch" he sighed, an easy grin spreading across his grimy face.
Sam grinned and dangled the pendent in front of his brother's face. "Missing something?"
"What?" " How?" he asked stupidly, his hand going to his throat,
'How had he missed that?'
Sam smile fondly at his brother and lowered the amulet into his brothers damaged hand before climbing to his feet. "Come on Man. Let's get out of here." He said pulling his brother to his feet as well. "Just let me call, Pol. Let her know we're on our way in."
Sam mentally kicked himself for leaving the radio in the car, before checking his pockets for his phone and then adding that to the list of things he needed to kick himself for.
Dean just gave him an exasperated look and slid back down the wall before collapsing onto his side.
"Wake me up when you find it." 'This was turning into one hell of a day.'
Sam just rolled his eyes and remembered that Deans phone was stuck in his top pocket. It just hadn't seemed right to leave it at the motel.
The phone barely rang once before it was answered.
"SAM!" Sam yanked the phone away from his ear, grimacing.
"HI Pol."
"You got him? Where are you? What the hell's going on Sam?"
Sam smiled at the phone for a moment before filling the Sheriff in and was receiving her news in return when a sharp pain made him grasp his left leg.
Pulling the small dart out of his thigh, he stared around stupidly for a moment before his knees gave out.
"Pol..." He managed to gasp out before he hit the floor.
Dean forced his eyes open at the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. He stared at Sam's phone which was currently lying just centimeters from his nose and tried to figure out where the tinny yelling was coming from if the phone was off. Pushing himself up on to his elbow he snagged the phone and shoved into his sand filled pocket, before looking around for Sam.
Sam was out cold his face mashed into the floor, a small stream of drool escaping from between his lips. It was gross but at least it proved he was alive.
Scrambling over to his brother's side he quickly spotted the tranquilizer dart and swore violently under his breath as he scanned his surroundings for its source. His sharp ears quickly picking up the sound of multiple footsteps coming up the stairs, he didn't have long. Scooping up the still yelling phone, he wedged it between his ear and shoulder as he began to search Sam for weapons.
"Pol"
"Dean. Thank God. What's..."
He cut her off sharply. "We need back up now."
"It's on its way. Just hang on son."
Dropping the phone he mentally discounted the idea of rescue there was no way they would get here in time, and concentrated on heaving Sam over onto his side so he could get at the gun tucked in the back of his jeans.
He never made it that far, as for the second time a sharp pain spread through his arm.
Struggling to stay up right, he blinked the world back into focus, only to find himself staring at a pair of ridiculously pointy shoes.
Taking aim he did what he had been dying to do all day and throw up. As revenge went it wasn't much but right now it was enough.
Is anyone out there:)