Sorry about the late update, but my life is a mess at the moment. I don't know when things will start to look up again, but for now, expect updates to be a bit on the slow side. I'll try to get at least one up a week though. :-/
Not much going on in this chapter. Sorry about that too.
Oh... Before I forget, I want to say thank you for all the wondrous help with Latin! Thank you so much! And of course thanks to those who reviewed. It makes me feel loved. ;)
Disclaimer remains the same.
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Chapter 10. Time and Time Again
Sam's health had rapidly declined through the night and he was now raging a fever, sweat dripping down his trembling form. His cheeks were flushed, the silver duct tape on his skin a sharp contrast. Even as Ruby watched him, his small chest began to rise up and down faster and faster, as though he wasn't getting enough oxygen. He was near hyperventilating. She reached out and gently peeled the tape on his lips away, with her other hand brushing the matted bangs out of his face. Sam whimpered at her cool touch, his body recoiling for it, but didn't wake.
"Sam?"
His only response was another whimper.
Ruby swore under her breath, itching to wrap her slim hands around the shapeshifter's throat and squeeze. This hadn't been in the plan. Not at all. What good would it do them if Sam died before the ritual?
She had a mind to go right now and blast a hole through that damn shifter's heart.
Sam rolled onto his back, his soft moans becoming louder. She pulled him towards her, despite his unconscious protests, and began to curl her fingers in his hair in an effort to soothe him.
"Shhh, Sammy, it's going to be okay," she cooed. "It'll all be over very soon."
On the other side of the house, a darker more sinister force was at work.
Blood dripped down from a clenched fist, pooling into an intricately carved stone bowl. The demonic black eyes of John Travers reflected the crimson, a sly smile twisting the corner of his lips. He dipped a finger in, swirling the liquid around, muttering rapidly in a harsh dialect.
A whisper reached his ear and he stared into the depths of the bowl, listening intently.
"Satana"
Images swirled round and around, a series of events playing out before his eyes. Then it froze, showing a shiny black car speeding furiously down a highway, a desperate young man behind the wheel.
He spat.
"Winchester…"
John flung the bowl aside viciously with a hiss. "No!" His fingers twitched, wanting to tear the nearest thing he could grab to shreds. But such rashness would be costly. He took several deep breaths to calm himself, the stony-gray eyes of the ranch-hand he was…borrowing…returning.
Time was of the essence.
Ruby's head shot up as he swung open the bedroom door, raising an eyebrow at his stern face.
"Winchester is on his way here."
She stood up, pulling Sam along with her. He cried out pitifully at the sudden movement, but she ignored him. There were more important matters at hand.
"How soon?" she asked.
They're forty-five minutes away, maybe less at the rate they're moving," he replied. He glanced at Sam. "Get to chamber and guard the boy. I'll go call the others." He spun on his heel, not waiting for a reply, and left.
Holding onto Sam tight, Ruby hurried outside to the side of the farmhouse. There was an old storm cellar, and adjusting her grip on Sam, she threw it open and hurried down the weathered steps. Inside, it was dark and dank, and she blindly stumbled along to the far back where there was a hidden door and began to feel around for the latch that opened it. She found it, and pushed the door open. It automatically relocked behind her, and she walked quickly down the hallway, which was on a steady decline downward. Familiar with the route, she was unbothered by the lack of lighting.
It was several minutes before she saw a hint of light, and when she did, she quickened her step. The dirt beneath her feet became stone, her heels clicking softly against it, the light growing brighter and lighting up her path, and pretty soon she reached an iron wrought fence. Beyond it lay a massive chamber, shaped like a dome. The ceiling was nearly 20 feet above her head, with a circular grate at it's peek that sent a ray of light streaking down to a stone table below: the altar.
The seal.
One of the more official seals, it was covered in curious symbols and runes. They were the markings that kept demons in Hell, that bound Lucifer to the Pit. But not for long. This seal was going to be broken.
And Sam was going to be the one to break it.
Ruby strode up to the altar and laid the boy down on it. Sam twisted around on the cold surface, his breaths coming out in short, shallow bursts. His face was covered in a slick sheen of sweat, more pouring down his face and sending shivers through his body as the cool air hit it. Ruby glanced upward to the grating in the ceiling, but seeing that the light was going nothing to ease Sam's discomfort, she took off her jacket and draped it over him. He quieted down somewhat, his quakes less pronounced. But only somewhat.
Pulling out a lighter, Ruby left his side and moved towards the torches lining the walls, lighting each one as she moved around the room. The flames cackled to life, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. It brought a slight warmth along with it, making Ruby feel a bit more cozy in the chamber.
Now all she had to do was wait.
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Dean must have broken every speed law there was as he drove down the highway, but still he felt he wasn't going fast enough. He'd left Bobby behind long ago, biting the dust, and if there had been other cars on the road, he would have surely crashed. There were probably going to be repercussions for pushing the Impala so hard, but he didn't care. Not now. Sam was in danger. Sam came first above everything else, even his car.
Not that he would admit that to Sam of course.
God, Sammy, what have I done? This mess was all his fault. If he hadn't prayed, Sam wouldn't have turned into a child, and if Sam hadn't turned into a child, he wouldn't have become a target for a horde of demons. Dean's grip tightened on the steering wheel. If only he could turn back time and prevent it all from happening. But he couldn't. He was stuck with his choices.
And if Sam died, he had no one to blame but himself.
Dean put all his strength into the gas pedal, trying to get the Impala to surpass a speed that wasn't there. Sam. He couldn't lose his little brother. Not now, not ever.
He'd proven that at Cold Oaks when he'd sold his soul, and despite the horrors he'd seen there, he'd gladly throw himself back into Hell if it meant that that Sam would live.
Smoke on the Water rang out through the air suddenly, the sudden rock music causing Dean to jerk the wheel in surprise. He swore, swinging the car back into the right lane, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. "What?"
"Don't 'what' me, boy!" Bobby snapped form the other end. "What the hell do ya think you're doing, going off like that? You'll get yourself killed!"
"Better me than Sam," Dean mumbled.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
There was a snort. "Dean, just pull over and wait for me."
"But Bobby—"
"Wait for me. Else I'll be kicking your ass into next week."
Dean wouldn't put it past him. "Fine." Reluctantly he slowed and pulled alongside the road, cutting the engine. "Happy now?"
"Cut the crap, Dean. Remember, you're no good to Sam if you're dead."
"Yeah, yeah." As far as he was concerned, he was going to die anyway. It was only a matter of time.
Wasn't the first time he'd seen the end of his trail.
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Bobby was only ten minutes behind him, and when he arrived, he cursed up a storm. Something about foolish, thick-headed boys. Dean didn't need to bother to ask whom the older man was talking about. He knew.
"Dammit, Dean!" he shouted.
"I know," Dean said before Bobby could speak further. "Do me a favor—yell at me later. Sam needs us."
"Damn right he does," the other grumbled. "Needs his idgit brother."
"Bobby—"
The older man waved a hand in dismissal and jumped back into his car. Dean did the same, and then they were back on the road.
Dean squirmed in his seat, longing to 'put the pedal to the metal,' but he knew that Bobby's old rust bucket would have a hard time keeping up. Not to mention that the old hunter would wring his neck for being so reckless.
Didn't know where else to leave it. I'll try to make the next chapter much more interesting.
Reviews will make me happy...
...and make me consider what happens to Sammy. o.O