Shadows From the Dim Hereafter

By: CoffeeManiac

Not Slash. Rated T for some mature content.

Warnings: Violence. Hints at sensitive subject matter. Lots of HurtSam. Some HurtDean. This story is not labeled as horror, however, towards the end, there are a couple of short, but fairly gruesome descriptions so, please be prepared.

Part 7

Sam woke up. Again. In the cellar. Again. With June and Derek standing over him. Again. He groaned and closed his only functioning eye and turned away from them.

"Ghouls," he said, softly, still refusing to look at them. "You're ghouls."

"Wow. Welcome to the party," Ghoul-June said. She had a slice along her cheek from where Sam had hit her.

"June and Derek? They're dead?"

"Oh, yeah," Ghoul-Derek said. "Yummy."

Sam filled his lungs and looked back at the two monsters hovering beside him. "Then why am I still alive?"

"I don't want to eat you," June answered. "Not yet."

Sam thought about that but it didn't make sense. "Why not?"

"Something in the original's brain likes you," Derek said. "It happens. She's young, still learning to filter out the crap. We take the memories and the bodies so sometimes we get a little more."

"That's disturbing," Sam commented.

"You really screwed us up, Sammy," Derek continued. "I thought we'd have a good thing here. We'd take a few bites, make it last a while and no one would know. But, your father called June a few hours before we killed her. Imagine how surprised we were to find out that three more hunters were on their way."

"Why'd you kill them? I thought you liked corpses."

"They hadn't discovered us yet," June answered. "But, we didn't like having hunters so close to our feeding ground."

"How'd you know they were hunters?"

Derek laughed as he said, "You all think you're so clever, don't you? So stealthy. Guess it's not true, is it?"

"So, what now?" Sam asked.

"Like I said, you screwed everything up. We could've just stopped letting your lot stay here. We could've told everyone than June and Derek were out of the 'hunting' business. But, now we can't. So we're going to kill your family and you and clear out of here."

"But, not right away," June interrupted. "I mean, we don't have to kill him right away. I get to keep him for a while, don't I?"

Sam swallowed against the wave of nausea that bubbled up.

"Just until we're done with the other two," Derek said. "It's too dangerous to keep him alive."

"How many have you killed?" Sam asked, trying to distract them. He needed to keep their attention so they couldn't put any kind of lethal plan into action.

"Not many," Derek answered. "We're happy with the dead so, we've been making some withdrawals at the mortuary. But, I have to be honest, after we ate your friends, well, that just opened up a whole new menu choice for us."

"The girl, the shapeshifter…"

"She thought her runaway sister was staying here."

"Which was true," June said, giving Derek a sly smile.

"She was bringing some clothes to her, hoping to convince her to come home," Derek continued.

"The two girls, the one outside and the one in the laundry room, are sisters?" Sam asked.

"That's right. I was planning to keep them together for a while. Like two kinds of pretzels. But, then I saw you lurking on the patio and I had to change plans."

Sam fought back another surge of nausea. He couldn't stop seeing the terror on each girl's face.

As he lay on the narrow cot with springs pressing into his back he tested the chains. His hands and feet were bound to the metal legs of the bed and the prison restraints were gone.

June petted his chest. "Shsh, don't be afraid. When we do eat you, I'll make sure you're dead first."

Sam nodded grimly. "Great."

She moved her hand down, rubbing circles on his belly. She slipped beneath the sweatshirt to repeat the action. Sam tried to shift away but with his limbs bent and pulled down, his ability was limited.

"June, the original June, thought about you a lot, Sam," she said. "So young and sweet. Not spoiled like your brother."

"Yeah, well, I haven't seen her in a year so, uh, things have changed a bit."

"Oh, I know. I can smell a virgin and that 's not you."

Sam flashed briefly on Rita Wade's face. Eighteen years old and finishing her last year of high school, Rita didn't want to start college as a virgin. Sam was willing to help with that problem.

"But, still, you are a very attractive boy," June continued, "And I like you anyway. I've eaten and absorbed other people, Sam, but no one has ever affected me like this. Her attraction to you must have been very strong."

Uncomfortable and needing a change of subject, Sam indulged his curiosity. Addressing Derek, he said, "That reminds me, why don't you look like a 90 pound girl now?"

"We have to consume the brain and heart to take over the body and the mind," he said. "I don't want to be a flimsy little girl. No matter how sweet they taste."

Anger and revulsion warred with each other as Sam processed that information. June kept sneaking her hand over his torso and he had had enough.

"Get off me, you disgusting scavenger."

June laughed but she sounded nothing like the woman that Sam remembered. It was an ugly cackle without any humor or warmth. Then he felt some pressure below his rib cage that turned into agony as she stabbed her finger through his skin. Sam cried out, hands bunching up as she withdrew the digit and looked Sam in the eye as she sucked his blood off it.

"See how much worse it can be?"

Heaving air, he said, "Just keep your hands to yourself."

Sounding thoughtful, she said, "June likes touching you. I'm not sure why but I get a nice feeling from it. She thought you wanted her to touch you. That's why I made such a fuss earlier when you rejected me. Weren't you expecting it? Wasn't I convincing when I mimicked her?"

Derek nudged June out of the way. He leaned over Sam, fetid breath joining his words, "Be polite or I won't wait for her to be ready."

Sam shook his head, feeling his courage wane. "No, don't."

"All right then." Derek backed up a few steps letting June draw close again.

Sam winced as he turned away from them. Helplessness and grief washed over him. He wanted to grow up, to become a man. He wanted to finish school and maybe go to college. Somehow he always knew that a hunter's life would kill him but he never expected it to done by a couple of ghouls in a basement. He thought he'd go down saving someone, trading his life for his family or a victim, not become the victim himself.

Sam fought back against the despair as he faced them again. He swallowed over his dry throat, prepared to make another plea for his life. He knew if he just delayed them a little longer then Dean and his father would arrive.

The cellar door startled all of them when it banged against the wall. Sam gasped when he saw his brother standing there with a sawed off shotgun hanging from one hand.

"What's going on?" Dean asked. His voice and expression clearly showed that he couldn't make sense of what he was seeing.

"They're ghouls," Sam screamed at him. "They're ghouls."

Dean expertly flipped the gun around and fired. June grunted when the bullet hit her in the torso and folded forward. Derek shoved her out of the way and dove for the landing behind them. Dean drove into the room firing again into June's head. Her skull disintegrated.

"Head shot, Sammy."

"I know," Sam said but his voice choked up on him. Dean looked between him and the landing and Sam knew he was torn between going after the monster and helping him.

"Derek can't go anywhere," Sam said. "No exit that way."

"Okay, okay, hold tight. Dad'll be here in a minute."

Sam heard Dean grunt as he climbed the recess into the next room. He yanked on his limbs, wanting desperately to free himself. Nothing had changed so nothing budged but he kept trying. He could hear footsteps against cement but no yelling, no fighting and no scuffling.

"There's a curtain and a toilet," Sam yelled. "Watch the curtain."

Dean's cry of pain sounded through the small space and then there were a lot of thuds and skin smacks and grunting. Sam could only follow it with his ears until Dean tumbled into view, rolling head over butt and landing with an "oomph" as he hit the steps leading to the cellar door.

Derek popped into view next, growling and spitting as he attacked Dean. Dean dove away from him and came up on his feet but the shotgun was not in sight. Sam held his breath while he pulled on the restraints. Derek threw a solid punch towards Dean but Dean blocked and came back with a hard two punch into his abdomen. Derek didn't seem to notice as he grabbed Dean by his jacket and dragged him close.

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When they had first arrived at June's house, John knocked on the metal security door but no one answered. He tried the handle and found that it wasn't locked so he opened it and knocked again. He couldn't explain the panic that flooded through him when there was still no answer. Dean must have been feeling it too because he abruptly kicked the interior door in. John slid a lock pick set out of his coat pocket and waved it, giving Dean a knowing look. Dean just shrugged as they entered the living room.

In a quiet voice he told Dean to search the common rooms on the main floor while John searched the bedrooms. A few minutes later, they met in the kitchen without finding their friends or Sam.

John told Dean to check the cellar while he went upstairs. The house remained eerily quiet as John made his way back towards the guest room. He knew there was an entry into the stairwell from there. He opened the door, glad when it didn't squeak and climbed the steps with as much care as possible. He hoped to find Derek lifting weights or some other innocuous activity. He wanted to find Derek and then hear some story of how June and Sam were on an outing.

But, he couldn't convince himself that it would happen that way.

When he reached the top step he peered towards an empty kitchen then looked over the short wall. The sight of blood and human remains brought up the stench.

"No," he whispered as he pushed open the small gate.

It only took a moment to see the bed and a tied girl, probably Dean's age, maybe younger. Her naked body had been ravaged by something with an appetite. John could see the bite marks and the rips in her skin. He saw the shock in her still face and shook his head.

He knew what killed her. He'd seen the damage before. With a stab of fear he looked further because he might find Sam. He might find his baby ripped to pieces or the ghouls might not have started on him yet.

But, John didn't find Sam. He found Sam's duffle bag laying a few feet away from the remains of Derek and June. Laid side by side in the back of Derek's weight room, their decomposing bodies showed the remnants of their terrifying death.

On the other side of the room lay the ravaged remains of another girl.

John didn't have time to be horrified. He hadn't found Sam and he had sent Dean to the cellar alone.

Giving up all pretense of stealth, he ran down the steps. Just as he reached the guest room he heard the sound of a shotgun blast. He tore through the house and down into the cellar. When he stepped through the door, he found Dean in the grip of a monster that looked like a friend.

"Dean, duck," John yelled then fired his Taurus into Derek's head. Derek didn't have enough face left to look surprised as he collapsed taking Dean with him.

John ran over shoving the nearly headless body off Dean and pulling him from the floor. Once he was up, John turned his attention to Sam.

He knelt down beside the cot, seeing the horrific bruises. There were red and purple marks around Sam's neck and only one eye blinked at him around the swelling in his face. John gently brushed the bangs off his forehead.

"Got 'em," Dean said going to the opposite side of the cot. John heard the click of a lock releasing and then Dean tossed the keys to him to do the other side.

They got the restraints off him and John wrapped an arm around Sam's back, lifting him up to sitting.

"God, Sammy, how bad?"

Sam didn't answer. He leaned forward into John's chest. As John pulled him close he felt violent tremors passing through his son's body.

"It's all right, Sammy," he said.

Then Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed. "You're okay now," he said.

The fifteen year old nodded, letting them know he had heard.

"I think I have a concussion. Nothing is staying still," he said, his voice raspy and soft.

"Let's get out of here," John said. "We'll stop first place we can and check you out."

John took an extra moment to look at Sam's face and his one open eye. He could see that Sam was right about the head injury. The way the kid stayed huddled into his middle told John that there were more injuries than that to deal with.

He glanced up at Dean who was hovering, looking worried, but not panicked.

John helped Sam to stand but Sam's knees buckled. Luckily, Dean was there to help catch him. For such a skinny kid, he carried some weight. John slid one arm around his shoulders while Dean wrapped an arm around his waist. They steadied him between them then headed for the cellar steps.

"There's a girl upstairs," Sam said. "They killed her."

"What?" Dean asked.

"I saw," John said. "There's nothing we can do for her. I'll call '911' when we're clear."

"My phone got washed," Sam said.

"It's okay, we have phones," Dean said, glancing at John with concern.

"It's shock," John said.

"No, it's not," Sam disagreed. "I was just telling you. Look, can we just get out of here?"

"Someone's cranky," Dean said earning a glare from John.

Getting up the steps was a clumsy effort and by the time they reached the top, sweat beaded Sam's face. Rather than take him back through the house, John kicked open the back door while Dean held his brother. They went into the night and Sam gave a gasp as his bare feet hit the cold pavement.

"Just a few steps," Dean said.

"He killed another girl out here. Said she was a shapeshifter."

John cursed under his breath. He tightened his hold around Sam's shoulders.

"She and the girl upstairs were sisters."

"I saw a news report about it last night," John said. "Their parents said the one girl went missing and then a few days later, the other girl disappeared."

They walked across the cold ground, both John and Dean moving quickly to get their youngest family member into the car. When they reached the Impala, Dean opened the back door but John shook his head.

"No. I want him sitting in the front. It'll jar his ribs too much to get him back there and get him back out."

"He'll be more comfortable lying down," Dean disagreed.

"Not if we puncture a lung."

Dean nodded and opened the passenger door. Sam slid in slowly but his hands were bunched into fists when he finally settled.

The drive to a motel seemed endless with his oldest leaning into the front talking to Sam while John searched the streets for a place to stop. He finally saw some lights for a Day's Inn that was also close to the Rochester Methodist Hospital. John hoped they wouldn't need it. Insurance fraud was complicated and serious but he'd take the chance if Sam had injuries they couldn't treat.

John pulled up in front of the motel, told Dean to wait and went to check in. Normally, John preferred to stay away from the motel chains. He liked the anonymity that came from smaller, privately owned establishments.

The young clerk, a boy about Dean's age, smiled brightly at John and made stupid small talk as he processed the fake credit card. John filled out the information form with the Impala's license plate, changing the letters and numbers around for security. The boy finally gave him two key cards, a map with the room circled and a suggestion to eat breakfast at Cheap Charlie's.

John walked out in a hurry, anxious to get back to the boys. Dean might be functioning but he wasn't healed from the ghost hunt and Sam looked like he'd been repeatedly battered. He needed to take care of both of them.

He followed the directions on the map until he found their room. As requested, it was on the ground level. Dean popped out of the back seat and opened the passenger door while John unlocked the room. He returned to the car to find Sam already halfway out but leaning heavily against his brother.

"I'm all right," Sam snapped when Dean told him to slow down.

"No, you're not. Take the help when you have it."

"What happened to 'push past the pain'?"

"What happened to 'I'm the big brother and I know everything'?"

"You're a jerk."

"And you're a bitch."

"Boys," John interrupted. "Do you think we can move this inside before Sam's feet freeze off?"

"Yes, sir," they responded in unison.

John waited by the car while Dean helped Sam into the motel room. The two of them were the same height now but Sam weighed much less so Dean was able to support him. Once Sam's adrenaline wore off, John expected the kid to collapse but for the moment he was moving fairly well.

John opened the trunk to retrieve their bags then followed them inside. He found Sam trembling on the edge of one bed, his face washed of color.

Dean yelled from the bathroom, "Hang on, Sammy."

John crouched in front of him. "What's going on?"

"Moved wrong," he answered through gritted teeth.

Dean returned with a washcloth. He folded it and laid it across the back of Sam's neck. "Just breathe, kiddo."

For the next hour the three of them worked together. John gave Sam pills for pain, waited a few minutes for them to hit his bloodstream and started checking him out.

Dean questioned him about symptoms and Sam complained of nausea, dizziness and being sensitive to light. He said his chest and back hurt too.

Sam tried to help as they took off his sweatshirt but his movements were awkward. John managed to get it off him then joined Dean in cursing when they saw the bruises covering his torso. John told him to lie down then spent several minutes gingerly pressing Sam's chest. The pain that caused was obvious and John thought he could feel breaks in at least two ribs.

Dean was the first to notice the hole in Sam's side. When Sam described how Ghoul-June had plunged a finger through his skin, John closed his eyes. He breathed through his anger then told Sam he needed to sit up. Between the rigorous exam and the pain pills, Sam leaned sluggishly against Dean while John checked his back. He found six finger sized holes through his son's flesh. They weren't too deep, just enough to pull some skin and blood. The one on his side was clearly the worst but the ghouls had obviously been snacking on him.

"You didn't feel these?" John asked.

"Just in the, uh, the shower. Just in the shower."

"When was that?"

Slurred words reminded John that Sam was feeling the drugs he'd taken for pain. "Today, maybe. Not that long ago. They must've been tasting, or testing me out when I was unconscious. Cuz, you know, I was unconscious a lot, Dad."

John sighed. He sat down next to his youngest while Dean continued supporting him.

"Sammy, these are going to have to be disinfected."

"Well, that sucks."

John patted his leg as he stood up.

"You sure you're not just mad at me?" Sam asked.

Stung by the question, John turned around. "I wouldn't hurt you, Sam."

"We all kind of know that isn't true."

John walked towards the bathroom. He took the first aid bag with him knowing he'd need to find supplies. He closed the door behind him and leaned against the sink. He looked at his reflection and saw the hurt in his own eyes. He blinked but it didn't go away. Knowing he couldn't wait any longer to treat Sam, he pawed through the bag and found the alcohol and swabs.

When he came out, he found Sam still sitting on the bed. Dean had shifted to rearrange his brother's weight.

"Let's get this over with and you can go to sleep," John said.

"Dad, he's just stoned," Dean said. "He didn't mean it."

"Mean what?" Sam asked.

"Let's finish up," John said.

Cleaning and bandaging the wounds took nearly half an hour. By the time, John finished, Sam was trembling and close to sleep. John and Dean maneuvered him carefully until he lay on his back. Lying on his stomach was impossible due to the broken ribs so that was the best they could do.

"You should lie down too, Dean. Your head isn't much better than his."

John returned to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He needed to wash off his son's blood.

He stripped down and stepped into the warm spray thinking about Sam's words, his conversation with Dean and the fight that brought all of it on. Frustration conquered the guilt and anger. He scrubbed his skin quickly then rinsed and dried off. He pulled his jeans and undershirt back on before padding barefoot into the main room.

Dean held up a quieting hand because Sam had fallen asleep. John nodded tersely knowing he'd have to wait to resolve the argument.

A short time later, John lay awake in bed with Dean snoring beside him. Normally the boys shared but with Sam's injuries, Dean was afraid of jostling him. And with Dean's healing concussion, John didn't want him to sleep on the floor.

Still wearing his jeans and tee, he cradled his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He wondered if his fight with Sam was going to damage them forever. Had losing his temper, losing control in that one instant, ruined their relationship? The thought sent waves of sadness through him.

With a fresh surge of guilt, he remembered that not only did they have the fight work through but John had abandoned him in a house of monsters. His stomach clenched with fear at what almost happened. How did he not see the difference in June and Derek? How did he miss that ghouls had replaced them?

John had met June a few years earlier when her husband was attacked by a werewolf. He helped her and Derek put him down. Then he spent a few months with them, working with them as they became legitimate hunters. Others had taught John so he returned the kindness by teaching them.

He had last seen them sometime the previous year. June, who had always been a perfectionist, had turned her obsession into a need for order around her home. She had claimed she only wanted neatness but John could see the underlying push for control.

Derek turned to exercise and nutrition. He hadn't been able to prevent the attack on his brother-in-law and he hadn't been able to save him. By focusing on things that he could do, like improve his health and increase his strength, Derek gained some stability back.

A few days ago when he and the boys arrived to find June's house immaculate and Derek turned into a body builder, John failed to see that the two of them were really different. He attributed it to their previous behaviors and their underlying desire to feel some control over their lives.

But, he should have seen them for what they had become. It was his job to recognize danger before it approached the boys. He had failed dismally and almost lost Sam because of it. If Dean hadn't pushed to return, they would have been too late.

John watched the sun come up, having only dozed off and on, plagued with violent nightmares and then waking up in despair. He finally gave up, pulled on socks, boots and his leather jacket, and headed out to find food for him and the boys.

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