Chapter 18
"Sam, keep reading." Bobby growled, not taking his eyes off the man. Sure enough, this was the man he had seen outside the lobby's rear entrance.
Sam looked from Bobby to Dean, and then back at the paper in his hand. He slowly began to recite the rest of the words.
The old man cocked the little pistol in his hand, "I said stop, or I will shoot him." He said. He seemed sincere.
"Whoa, whoa…alright. Just take it easy, mister." Dean said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. There was something amiss about the old man, but Dean couldn't quite put his finger on exactly what it was. Whatever it was, the stooped old fool was pointing a gun at his brother, so right now, to him, it wasn't that important.
"It's alright Sam, keep reading." Bobby said. Both boys shot him disbelieving stares. He was still looking directly at the old man.
"Uhh, Bobby?" Sam said hesitantly. The gun was loaded, and cocked, and aimed. What was Bobby thinking?
Bobby lowered the bow just long enough to motion silently for Sam to move quietly around the edge of the circle towards Dean, "I said it's alright boy, he's bluffing."
Bobby kept his voice even, not wanting to give anything away.
Sam gave him a strange look, but slowly inched his way towards Dean.
"I am not, I'll shoot him, I swear. That creature must not be summoned again!" The old man screeched. His age was impossible to guess, but Dean would have estimated the guy was somewhere around a century old. He held the gun shakily in his left hand.
Dean cast Bobby a concerned look, and Bobby motioned for him to look again at the threatening figure that stood near in the door frame.
Dean transferred his attention back to the man with the gun, and was surprised to find that the old codger was continuing to aim at the spot where Sam had originally stood.
Dean looked harder, and an understanding grin spread across his face.
The man was blind.
Sam had noticed the oddity at the same time, paying close attention to the exchange between brother and friend. He decided it was time for some distraction.
"Bobby, what are you, nuts?" he said, a little louder than necessary. "The man has a gun, can't you see that?"
Bobby took his cue, "Now, listen here, boy, you do as I say!"
"No way, you crazy old fool!"
"Crazy old fool? Now wait just a minute, you little snot nosed brat, I won't have none of that!"
Dean let them continue insulting each other as he crept closer and closer to the old man, being careful to make no noise, as surely, if the man was blind, his hearing would be better than most. Finally, the scarlet-robed figure had had enough of the exchange.
"Silence, you morons! I've heard enough! Now get down on the-"
Dean grabbed the old man's wrist with his right hand, and forced it away from the trio, simultaneously landing an uppercut to the man's jaw with his left.
*POW*
Another sound resounded in the enclosed area loud enough to make their ears ring. The bullet ricocheted off of the wall, and embedded itself in the wall on the opposite side of the room.
The old man lay limp on the floor, not even having heard the sound of the gun going off.
Dean turned to his two companions, who both wore looks of relief on their faces. He grinned, "Snot nosed brat? Is that the best you could come up with Bobby?"
Bobby scowled at his young friend, "Oh, I could've come up with a lot worse if it'd been you I was talkin' to."
Sam chuckled. A moment later he was once again reciting the words on the paper, Dean had retrieved his still burning candle from the ground, and Bobby was again aiming the arrow at the centre of the circle.
The distortion in the centre began to take more of a defined shape. It was beginning to look more and more like a giant blue egg. The boys cast puzzled glances at each other, but Bobby's eyes remained glued to the spot.
Sam finished the ritual, and the form solidified. Immediately, the room began to swirl around them. The paint on the walls changed randomly from grey, to pink, to yellow, to turquoise. The building began to warp around them, walls melting into each other, the floor shifting beneath their feet. Angles turned sharply, and perspective lost meaning, as close objects suddenly appeared much farther away, and distant objects appeared too close for comfort.
Sam and Dean flung their arms out in an attempt to keep their balance as their surroundings fell to pieces. Sam closed his eyes, trying to block the nauseating effect of the random color changes. He heard Dean calling to Bobby, but his friend did not answer.
Sam felt himself hit the floor, and it curled around him, pulling him in, suffocating him.
He tried to open his mouth to scream, but there was no air for his lungs to use. He heard the thud of the arrow. Heard the screams of his brother…his friend…his mind.
Their world was crumbling around them, their hopes caving in on themselves. Their lives were ending. And he could not stop it. Could not save them.
He had failed again…failed for the last time.
Sam lost consciousness, his mind losing the battle with the darkness, his thoughts of failure his only company.
The deep black that surrounded him thinned to grey. There was something familiar here.
Not a sound…not a feeling…it was…a smell? Yes, that was it. A scent. The scent of leather. What else? Was there more?
Yeah, there it was…leather…and denim. Gun polish too…and…hamburgers?
"Sammy? Can you hear me?"
Whoa! Smell and sound now. There was something so familiar, so…comfortable about that sound. What was it…a voice? Yes, a voice. A deep, friendly, concerned voice. He knew that voice.
It came with a feeling.
"Sam? Open your eyes bro, nap time's over."
A feeling? A feeling indeed! Safety, comfort, happiness, love.
The grey thinned further until he was surrounded with white.
No more darkness, but light instead. Blinding light.
He blinked. The light faded to a comfortable level. He looked around. No more grey-green walls, no steel doors or snow or revolting colors or warped floors suffocating him.
"Where are we?" Sam said quietly, hoping that the walls would continue to hold their shape.
Dean grinned, and leaned back, "Home sweet home!" He said, spreading his arms wide. Sam blinked again, and looked up at Dean, who was sitting beside him on the bed.
"Home?" The word sounded unfamiliar…distant even.
He started to try and sit up, but Dean placed a hand on his chest to gently restrain the movement, "Not yet, Sammy. Give those ribs a break, huh?"
Sam laid back down, glad to be able to rest on purpose for once. "We're in a hotel?" He asked.
"Nope, you're about sixty miles from the nearest hotel." Bobby said, entering the room with a tray piled high with sandwiches. Dean's face lit up at the sight of food.
Sam sighed, "Good. I don't want to see another hotel or apartment or anything anytime soon."
Dean chuckled at that, "Yeah, me neither." he said, around a mouthful of ham and cheese.
"So…I guess you got it?" Sam asked slowly, looking at Bobby. Bobby and Dean exchanged glances.
"Uh, well…not exactly." Bobby said, scratching his beard.
"So it's still alive!" Sam asked, nearly sitting up again. Dean, placed a restraining hand on his brother again, "Sam." He said, a friendly warning in his tone.
Sam reluctantly eased back down a second time.
Dean answered the question. "Actually, it was the old dude dressed up in the red dress that killed the darn thing…believe it or not."
Sam stared up at his brother. Surely he was joking.
"No, it's true." Bobby said, noticing the look. He sat down in a chair at the foot of Sam's bed. "When the Hundun appeared, it started doing exactly what it's best at…causing chaos. I had it right there in my sights, but when the floor started moving, I lost my grip on the bow. The arrow went flyin' right past it, and landed in the wall near the elevator and the unconscious guy." Bobby frowned. He didn't much like it when he missed. Dean offered a sandwich to Sam, who turned it down. Dean shrugged and continued to munch happily as Bobby went on.
"Well, after that, things got pretty hairy. You were being swallowed by the floor, and Dean wasn't far behind you. I lost my footing and darn near knocked my head off fallin' over a desk that came from God knows where."
Dean snorted at the memory of the experienced hunter's feet flying over his head, but quickly turned to taking over the explanation when Bobby's glare started burning a hole through his skull. "Yeah, so anyway, I figured we were done for, and then here comes this blind old coot. He yanks the arrow out of the wall somehow, and then runs screaming towards the giant blue-egg-thing. He stabs the thing dead centre, and then…poof!" Dean's hands flew into the air, bits of the sandwich he was holding came loose and landed in Sam's hair. "Dean." Sam said, brushing the crumbs from his bangs in annoyance. Dean continued without pausing. "There we were, in the parking lot! No cars, no people, no bodies…and no apartment complex. Like it was never there!" He said.
Bobby huffed, "You were out cold, so I went to get the car out of the impound, and we came straight back here to my house. You were flat out for the whole thing." He said. Bobby groaned as he stood back up. "Anyway, you two chill out for a second, and I'm goin' back downstairs to beat some more records."
Sam gave Dean a puzzled look, who was busy glaring at Bobby's back as he left. "Beat my records my foot." He muttered.
"So…what about the Chupacabra?" Sam asked hesitantly. The last thing he wanted to do was go back to Ohio, but that creature was still loose. Dean stretched as he got off of the bed, and reached for another sandwich. "Bobby knew some hunters in the area that had some experience with cults and stuff. Figured we'd had enough hunting for one trip, and I figured he was right." He turned to see Sam studying the ceiling.
"Yeah, I guess so." Sam said quietly.
Dean sighed. He knew where this was going. "What is it?" He asked, knowing that Sam was being weighed down by something. His tender hearted younger brother had a tendency to be a deep thinker. He cared just a little too much sometimes…it was one of the things that Dean secretly admired about his doe-eyed sibling. Like always knowing exactly what to say to make others feel better, no matter what they had just been through, or the way that he held on to a hope for a better life even through all the hopelessness they faced day in and day out. It was one of those things that made Sam who he was.
It was just one of those things.
Sam didn't answer right away. He never did. "Dean…hunts like that. I mean…we've had some close calls, but that..." He shook his head. "That thing was in total control…of everything. It all seemed so real. I don't know, it just makes me wonder if we really know what real is, you know?"
Dean thought for a moment. He went over the things that he and Sam had been through in the last two days. It seemed so much longer than that, but the reality was that they had only been stuck in that mad house for 24 hours.
"Sam…I know what you mean. I really do. But, that thing never had control over us. It never had control over our actions. Sure, it warped reality, and it changed what we could see…and there were even times when I think it messed with out minds…our thoughts." He paused, wondering whether the voice he'd heard in the closet was an illusion, or if it had really been John. He went on, "But the fact is, even through all that, we stuck together. And we made it."
They looked at each other solemnly. Sam knew he was right. Through all of it, never once had the creature been able to tear them apart. They had quarrelled a little, as brothers will, and they had faced a few of their own personal demons. But never once had they turned on each other. And they had made it.
Dean walked over to the bedside, and handed his brother a sandwich, who took it this time. Sam gave him a half-grin, still sifting through the feelings. Dean ruffled his hair, just to annoy him, and then turned to leave so his brother could rest.
He paused, framed in the doorway. Giving Sam his patented sparkling smile, he spoke gently, "That's what's real."
And then he was gone.
Sam sat quietly, listening to the sound of Dean's footsteps retreating down the stairs. Once again, his often irritating, but always rock steady brother had been able to answer a question that would have driven Sam crazy thinking about it. And he had answered it in that incredibly simple, yet profound way that made Dean who he was…something which Sam had secretly marvelled at ever since he could remember.
He sighed. It was one of the many things about Dean that Sam wished he could learn, but knew that it came with being an older brother. Kind of like knowing exactly how to make Sam smile, even if it was in the middle of a tragedy, or knowing exactly what to say to make Sam feel calm, even if it was in the middle of the Apocalypse. It wasn't just being the older brother…it was being Dean.
It was just one of those things.
Sam shrugged and smiled, closing his eyes. He chuckled softly to himself as he heard the sound of Dean and Bobby bickering over who held the record for fastest tire change.
