Chapter 3
"This is it. This is absolutely it!"
Sam's frustration was evident, as was his lack of sleep. It didn't help that he was having to walk everywhere in his search for his brother's whereabouts.
"I swear, this is the last time I ever let him go off with some strange girl…" Sam paused a moment to roll his eyes at the unlikelihood of that statement. As if.
The younger Winchester had spent the better part of three hours tracking down clues on his missing sibling, and where he might have gone. So far, the most he'd been able to gather was that the librarian's name was Andrea Willis, and that most of her co-workers thought she was weird. She lived in an apartment complex not far from the library, and she and Dean had been spotted grabbing a bite to eat at the local diner, about five minutes from the library.
Unfortunately, that was all Sam had to go on, and so far had turned up squat, searching the parking lots of four separate apartment complexes for the love of his brother's life…the Impala.
Sam was becoming tired and desperate. It had now been nine hours since he had last seen his brother. It was now completely confirmed in Sam's mind that Dean was in trouble…the only question now was how Sam was going to help him if he couldn't find him.
'Some hunter I turned out to be…'
In Dean's defense, Sam had to admit that the young woman had seemed harmless enough, and for all he knew, she was also in trouble. Something inside Sam told him that she was behind his brother's disappearance, but he wasn't about to conclude that until he had more evidence.
He sighed as he walked along the dark sidewalk towards the last apartment complex on his current route, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Being a hunter, Sam had been trained to keep his eyes and ears open at all times…especially if he was alone, so he let his eyes roam around the scenery… as it was at two a.m…and contemplated his brother's predicament.
The youngest Winchester felt a little guilty for his spark of anger at his brother. After all, it had been weeks since Dean had had any real fun. All he had done for what seemed like months was hunting…and trying to keep Sam's mind off of the crossroads deal.
Sam felt the familiar icy fingers of fear grasping hold of his insides at the thought of what awaited his brother at the end of this year…and the pain once again got to the point that he had to think of something else… anything else, or risk losing his mind completely.
Fortunately, he didn't have to try hard.
Sam slammed to a halt on a silent street corner as his mind belatedly registered something he'd seen a few moments ago from the corner of his eye.
He back-pedaled as he frantically searched for the object of his minds attention, and then heaved a giant sigh of relief as he laid eyes on it once again.
He cautiously approached the shiny black Impala that had been partially hidden from view behind a dumpster around the back of the Jade Street Apartment Complex.
Sam allowed a faint grin to slide onto his handsome face, 'trust Dean to hide his baby where only I could find it…'
Sam knew that his brother held a large soft spot in his heart for the large classic vehicle, and he also knew the real reasons why. Dean would say it was the purr of the engine, or that it was because the Impala was the Zeus among the classic car gods.
But Sam knew his brothers unusual attachment to the vehicle was due to the fact that it was one of the only things that their father had ever given Dean, and it was also one of the only things that they had left of their father, now that he had passed away.
As Sam approached the vehicle, his heart sank ever so slightly at the empty interior. He had half hoped to find Dean and Andrea curled up together in the backseat…however awkward that might have been.
Still, he found solace in the fact that the Impala was parked here, and therefore, he was on the right track. If his car was here, Dean had to be close by.
So, with that in mind, Sam quietly made his way to the trunk of the classic and popped it open with his spare key. He scanned the immediate area before removing the false bottom, and loaded up with the weapons of his choice. He then cautiously made his way to the rear entrance of the complex.
He breathed a prayer of thanks to whoever was listening when he was able to open the door silently and with ease. He slipped inside and made his way to the row of labeled mail boxes just to the right of the stairwell entrance. He read the names until he found the one he was looking for…Andrea Willis, Apt.23. Sam noted that the twenty-third apartment would be on the sixth floor of the complex…
"Of course, can't ever be easy." He repeated to himself for the second time that evening. He glanced longingly at the elevators on the opposite side of the grey-green hall, but he knew that taking an elevator would be a careless move. The words that Dean had drilled into his head from the time he was five years old echoed in Sam's mind…
"Never give away your element of surprise, Sammy…it might save your butt one day… or mine."
Sam knew that to the untrained observer, his brother's outward manner made him appear sloppy and full of himself, but Sam also knew that in reality Dean was the most selfless person Sam knew, as well as someone who was the best at his craft…hunting.
Sam gave one last longing glance at the elevators, "Guess that element of surprise will have to save your's today Dean," and then he began the long trudge up the stairs…
The intense tingling sensation was about to drive Dean literally insane, as it felt like an army of a thousand ants was trekking endlessly up and down his spine and across his ribs.
But at the moment, insanity was the least of his worries. Right now, he was more worried about not peeing on himself.
It had been a good thirty minutes since he had regained the use of most of his body, including the full use of his voice.
"H-E-E-E-L-L-P! Sam? Anyone? Hel-O-o-o-o!"
Dean's voice cracked a smidge on that last note, but he really didn't care right this second. He was too busy trying not to be completely terrified.
Dean had also regained the use of his eyelids at about the same time as his voice, but unfortunately, he realized that the lovely librarian had been kind enough to tie him up in complete and total darkness…and now he was hearing the noises in the dark that he dreaded above all else.
The sound of rats.
"H-E-E-E-L-L-P!" Dean rocked back and forth until he was able to get into a sitting position, and was immediately bombarded by the musty odor of old mop, mingling nicely with the sickly sweet odor of lemon pine-sol. He gagged involuntarily as the scents assaulted him.
"Ugh! Nasty! How come I always end up in the janitor's closet every time some whack job goes berserk?" Dean stated in disgust, momentarily distracted by the overpowering scents. He wrestled his arms under his rear, and down towards his ankles as he attempted to grasp the small leaf blade that was hidden in his boot.
He found the weapon just as the skittering noises started once more.
'Oh, God, please no rats…'
He was able to cut through his bonds in record time, but froze in place as he heard a cacophony of squeaks and chirps from every side…he was surrounded.
Deans irrational fears took hold and overwhelmed him faster than he knew how to handle, and he froze completely, too terrified to move.
He realized at some point that his feet were still numb from the paralyzing drug, but it wouldn't have mattered at this point anyway. He was about to succumb to the intense panic that flooded his senses, but suddenly a voice sliced through the darkness and into his mind.
"You can't be afraid, Dean, not of anything…"
At first he was completely confused, and he started to think that maybe he was dreaming, or finally going nuts. The voice spoke again.
"You can't be afraid, Dean. Sammy needs you…"
Dean was dumbfounded. He could have sworn that the voice belonged to his father, but John Winchester was dead and burned. It couldn't be…could it?
"Dad?" Dean's voice trembled, and it was unfamiliar, even to himself. Sweat trickled down his face and neck, and he realized that the temperature in the closet was rising rapidly.
"You can't be afraid now, son. Sam needs you to be brave, he needs you Dean…"
"Dad? Where are you? What do you mean? Is Sam in trouble?" The words tumbled out of his mouth in a string of bewildered questions, but this time the voice did not respond. Dean realized that he had been so focused on the voice, and the shock of whom it had belonged to, that he had completely forgotten about the rodents that were sharing his tiny dungeon.
He took advantage of the distraction, and heeding the advice that he had been mysteriously given, Dean fumbled blindly toward the door and found it quite easy to hastily jimmy the lock open.
He tumbled out into an empty tiled hallway, and he half-limped, half-dragged himself as hastily as possible away from the janitorial closet. He leaned against the peeling grey paint of the hallway wall, and a shudder worked its way up his spine.
"God, I hate rats…"
