Thanks again for continuing to read my story, and speical hugs for those who have reviewed. Your words of encouragement mean everything to me. This Chapter is in Sam's POV. Thanks again. Hugs, Ember
Chapter Four
"I don't want him dead just yet, I need him so I can access his memories."
"Don't worry, my long time friend. I know my craft well, he'll sleep the sleep of the dead for as long as you wish him to. "
Those were the first words I heard when I drifted into dazed consciousness. The first voice I heard was my own, but I know I wasn't speaking – or at least I'm pretty sure it wasn't me. My eyes are open and I can see two men. One of them is me. Maybe I'm still out cold and having some sort of whacked out dream because seeing yourself outside of yourself is definitely not normal. The other man is dark skinned, and from the way he speaks with a thick accent, I am guessing he's from the deep south.
"It's not that I don't trust you, Devin," I said . . . or rather the other me said anyways. I was confused as all hell, and the constant thudding in my brain wasn't helping matters in the slightest. "That'll be my final act of revenge on him – him burying his own little brother alive. That'll be the nail in the coffin that'll send him straight to Hell where he belongs."
"The Puffer fish's poison is mighty potent indeed. For those who do not wish to see beyond the apparent, he will look for all intended purposes to be dead," Devin assured the me who wasn't me that whomever they were talking about was up shit's creek without a paddle, and I felt a cold shiver rattle through me.
"I remember the day he buried my brother in a grave marked with his own name as if he were the one who had died instead. That puzzled me for the longest time. But then I began following him, and I understood. Dean Winchester had to die because he was a wanted man, and my brother filled that bill for him perfectly."
Horrible understanding crashed full-force over me, nearly dragging me under again with its torrential power. A Skinwalker. But he wasn't just any Skinwalker, he was the brother of the shifter Dean had killed while we were in St. Louis, and now he was after Dean. I wanted to get up. I wanted to move, to attack them, to shout at them – to do something . . . but my legs wouldn't move and my voice was buried within my throat. But trapped inside my head, I'm screaming one word over and over again - Dean.
"You have nothing to worry about, Stephen," Devin's voice once again intruded on my thoughts, and his cold accentuated tone cut through me like an icy blade. "Sam's final days will be anything but peaceful. He will walk the astral plane in terrifyingly real confusion, and when he finally awakens from his slumber the only thing he will see is the four wooden walls of his own tomb. Your brother's death will be avenged most cruelly as was my promise to you."
With his words, I felt myself drift again, and with everything I had in me I fought against his powerful magic. Yet for as hard as I tried, his dark hold over me was too strong, and with my last thoughts set solely on Dean, I tumbled into the awaiting darkness.
SNSNSNSNSN
A scream burst from my lips as I abruptly awoke from a nightmare so real yet illusive it left me trembling and terrified. I bolted upright in bed, and frantically searched for Dean. His bed was empty and the bathroom door stood wide open. My heart lodged in my throat as I leapt from the bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. Praying hard against the fears coiling and snaking within my stomach, I peered into the tiny, white tiled room, and found it empty like the bedroom was empty. As it had been in my dream, Dean was gone. He'd left me just as the nightmarish vision had foretold, but what I couldn't understand was why.
We'd been getting along great or as great as it gets for us anyway. We were both determined to find dad. And we were hunting just like Dean wanted us to do. So it made no sense that he would take off and leave me alone.
Maybe I was being paranoid? Maybe he had gone to get breakfast? That would definitely make sense as my stomach was rumbling so loudly I was certain the other guests in the motel could hear it.
I rushed to the front door, flung it open and looked toward where the Impala had been parked the night before, and it was gone. The tire tracks were faded to the point of nonexistent, completely covered in snow as if Dean had left a long time ago which made absolutely no sense if he only left to get breakfast.
Crossing the room, I snatched my phone off the table and jabbed the button to call Dean. It rang five times and then went to voice mail. I called back – I called over and over again, and each time I left the same message – Dean, it's Sam, call me back as soon as you get this. And then I waited. Waited. Waited. He never called back.
In a flurry, I threw on some clothes, rushed outside, broke into and hot-wired the first car I came across. The dark blue sedan's engine turned over, sputtered briefly and roared to life. But before I had a chance to put the gear in drive, a wave of gut-clenching fear overwhelmed me as I breathed in a familiar scent. The car filled with the leathery aroma of Dean's jacket along with the scent of his woodsy aftershave.
"Sammy, what the hell are you doing outside?"
At the sound of Dean's low, muffled voice, I swung around and looked at the backseat, certain he would pop out of nowhere and laugh at me for falling for one of his stupid pranks, but the car was empty just as the motel was empty.
"Dude, get back inside before you freeze to death."
Okay, so now I'm hearing voices of people who aren't there, and I'm pretty sure that's one of the first signs that I'm losing it completely. But then I realized the fear I felt wasn't my own, it was Dean's. I could hear it in the tone of his voice when he said my name, and could feel it as if it was a coldness burrowing beneath my skin. For whatever reason why the sedan was involved in Dean's disappearance, he was afraid of something or someone when he was inside of it, and it had left an indelible imprint in the metal and cloth of the vehicle.
"I'm gonna find you, Dean," I vowed, and revving the engine I pulled out of the parking lot. I spent the rest of the morning and afternoon criss-crossing all of Grand Forks searching for any sign of the Impala without luck. Wherever Dean was it certainly wasn't in this town so I widened my search to include the outlying towns and rural areas.
Frustrated and running out of options, I returned to the motel to search my computer. I must have missed something. There must've been something supernatural going on in Grand Forks, and so caught up in the search for dad, I'd completely missed it, and now Dean was gone because of it.
Hour upon hour I searched through every possible link on web for anything remotely close to being supernaturally involved, but everything always came to a dead end. If something was happening here, it was definitely well-hidden.
"So you can stay here if that's what you've gotta do, but I'm leaving for Bobby's house in the morning."
The sound of my own voice startled me out of my thoughts, and I nearly fell out of my chair as I swung to find the source of the disembodied voice.
"No, you're not going alone. I'll go with you," came Dean's echoed voice in response, and my jaw dropped wide open.
Seriously, we deal with freaky stuff all the time – ghosts, demons, werewolves, but hearing yourself have a conversation with your brother when it's not you speaking and you know damn well the actual conversation never took place, well, that's a whole new level of freaky even for me. But it was giving me direction, and that I couldn't ignore. If whatever this thing might be was leading Dean to Bobby's place, that's where I needed to go.
Within a matter of moments, I was on the phone calling Bobby. "Bobby, it's Sam," I said the second he answered. "Is Dean there?"
"No, Sam, I haven't heard or seen him in quite a while now," he answered after a brief pause.
"Look, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think he's on his way there with me or someone who looks and sounds like me anyway, and I need you to keep him there until I get there if he shows up."
"Knowing you boys as well as I do, why would even think that would sound the least bit strange to me?" he chuckled.
"I dunno," I conceded with a slight grin. "Maybe cause it sounds crazy to me."
"So you want me to keep him here. Gotcha. What do you think we're dealing with here?" he asked, and all traces of any humor he might have had moments prior vanished as he became a hunter instead of friend and father figure I knew him to be.
"I'm guessing he's some sort of demon, but I'm not sure," I replied as I got to my feet and hurriedly gathered my clothes together. "I'm gonna have to take a bus, so can you pick me up when I get there?"
"Yeah, just give me a call and tell me when and where."
"Thanks, Bobby."
"Just take care of yourself, boy, demon's are tricky bastards an' not knowing what it wants with you or Dean has me all kinds of worried." With that, he hung up.
As quickly as I could manage I piled the rest of my stuff together in my duffel, and headed out the door. After a stop at the manager's office to turn in the key and to find out where the nearest bus station was located, I was on the road again, and within a matter of an hour, I was on a bus traveling to South Dakota.
The drive seemed endless, and by the time I'd reached the truck stop where Bobby was suppose to meet me, my stomach was twisted into so many knots, I was certain I would throw up the minute I stepped off the bus. The moment I emerged from the bus, I saw Bobby waiting for me beside his tow truck. I waved, and headed toward him, only to stop dead in my tracks when I saw Dean – or at least I was fairly certain it was him.
Same short, scruffy hair. Same leather jacket. Same swagger in his walk. It was him. It had to be him.
"Dean!" I shouted, and dropping my bag, I raced past Bobby toward him. "Dean!" I called out again and this time he turned at the sound of my voice, and it was him. I'm sure of it, and then he disappeared. Vanished right before my eyes.
"Sam, what are you doing?" Bobby called from behind me, and I felt his hand come to rest on my shoulder. "Dean's not here."
"I saw him, Bobby," I uttered with a shake of my head, "I know it sounds all kinds of crazy, but he was standing right there." I pointed to the spot only a few feet away from where we stood, and then raked a hand through my hair, feeling as if I were losing my mind. "He had to be there – I couldn't have imagined it . . . I just couldn't have."
"You're tired, Sam, and Dean's missing. So you probably saw someone who looked similar to him, and wanting it to be Dean so badly that's what you saw."
"No," I gave a curt shake of my head, "it was him. I'm sure of it." Turning my back on Bobby, I walked to my bag, picked it up and then made my way to the tow truck. "Whether you or anyone believes me, someone or something is screwing with my mind, and I'm gonna find out who it is. And when I do, I'm pretty damn sure I'll find Dean as well."