Memories & Demons
Chapter Three
"Shit!" fighting the wheel as the Impala skidded out of control toward the trees looming ahead, Dean Winchester finally managed to regain control in time to swerve. Slamming the brakes, he felt them slip but suddenly they were sitting still, neither brother saying anything for a long time until…
"What in the hell was that?" he demanded, whirling to look behind where they'd been while trying to avoid looking at the black tire marks where they'd been skidding but he didn't see any body, including the bloodied form he was swore they drove through. "Sam? You okay?"
Looking when he didn't get an immediate response, Dean's heart jumped when he saw Sam slumped against the door. "Sam!" reaching over, he was careful when he moved his brother toward him but frowned as he gripped Sam's neck between his hands, seeing a thin line of blood trailing from his temple. "Sammy?" he called, managing to keep any trace of the panic that was building out of his voice when he heard the soft moan. "Sam, wake up!"
Groaning, Sam slowly opened his eyes to stare at his brother. Blinking a few times to clear them, he was finally able to nod that he was awake but he noticed that Dean didn't let go right away. "What we hit?" he asked with a frown when he touched his forehead to find blood.
"You must have hit the window or the door when he lost control after we hit…I have no clue what the hell we hit," Dean admitted, easing back to open his door. "Sit still for a few minutes while I check it out."
Ready to argue that he was fine, Sam winced as his head reminded him that he might not be so he stayed quiet to open his own door and look around when something off in the trees caught his attention. "Dean?"
"Stay put, Sam," Dean ordered, ignoring how shaky his own legs were at that moment to jog back to where they'd started the skid to check out the site only to find nothing but skid marks and tire tracks. Recalling the image of the bloody young man, he slowly tried to bring back what little he'd noticed which considering things wasn't much when something off to the side of the road made his move closer. "What the hell?"
Kneeling down, his fingers ran over something that was laying as if just dropped and he scowled. Closing his fingers around the hilt of the knife, he didn't have to look at the blade to know that he still wouldn't be able to read the words engraved just like he hadn't been able to sixteen years earlier.
If running down a bloody ghost didn't put his hunter's instincts on high, just finding a knife that he knew Morgan wouldn't let go of easily just laying by the side of the road had it screaming. Then he heard his brother shouting for him.
"Sammy?" looking up to find his brother, he scowled more when he found that he was out of the Impala and on the edge of the woods. "What part of stay in the car didn't you get?" he demanded crossly, not caring if Sam took the tone wrong or not. He had too many people vanishing to want his little brother added to the damn list.
Pausing by the car to switch his knife out with the one he found, Dean also took enough time to get some things from the trunk. Figuring they could get the rest once they figured out what they were dealing with. "What's up?" he questioned, heading to where Sam was standing to slowly see the profile of a dark colored car.
A newer model metallic blue Chevy Corolla that appeared to have been parked there and then covered by foliage on purpose. Not something a local or casual tourist would think to do so that left one other option. "Is it hers?"
Noticing that his brother still didn't say their friend's name very often, Sam looked up from where he was kneeling on the passenger side to just hold up the registration. "She actually uses her real name on things."
"Yeah, because she doesn't need to lie quite as much as we do," Dean rolled his eyes but went over to the car. "Pop the trunk."
Hearing the lock pop, he opened the trunk lid to see what one normally would expect to find in a trunk but his eyes were searching for something as he slipped a penlight from the inside of his jacket. "No, you're not that normal," he whispered, running his fingers over the inside of the trunk until he finally felt the lip and uncovered a tiny control panel. "I thought you were a tech geek," he commented, knowing Sam was beside him.
Seeing the panel, Sam frowned. "What is that?" he wiped more blood away with his hand until he had a clean rag tossed at him. "Thanks."
"It's a lock just like we have in the trunk…only knowing Morgan, if we put the wrong code in the damn car will probably blow up," Dean scowled, thinking while his brother considered that before he punched in a set of numbers. "Fifty/fifty odds."
"What if…" Sam blinked when a sound was heard and the lid moved to reveal a hunter's dream in the way of weapons, hex bags, knives, a few books, maps and a journal. "What code did you put and how'd you know it?" he demanded, reaching for the map to see that it was one of the local area with several spots circled.
Dean didn't reply for a moment as he took in a couple items that brought back too many memories then he shrugged. "Lucky guess," he admitted, hearing Sam nearly choke on that as he went on more quietly. "It would've been either mine or your birthdays. She uses yours as the security code on her phone so I figured the trunk would be mine."
"Do I want to know how you knew that considering up until that mess in Oregon a few months ago neither of us had seen her in fifteen years?" Sam was more than curious then he gaped. "You saw her, didn't you?" he demanded, confused. "Dean?"
"Drop it now, Sam," he ordered, not wanting to discuss it but not for the reason his brother would think. Dean wasn't stupid by any means. If Sam knew the truth then he'd feel honor bound to blab to Morgan and then he'd never hear the end of it. "What's up with the map?"
"It's of the area," Sam replied with more than a little bitch-face thrown in. "Looks like she was trying to figure out some sort of pattern because each of these marks once combined form a…"
Dean could see the pattern forming. "A supposed witch, a map that forms an inverted pentagram with said witch's property smack in the center," he nodded. "Let's get our stuff and go check this place out."
"What about the ghost on the road?" Sam wondered, following his brother back to the Impala for their gear. "A past victim of the witch or something else?"
"No clue but if I find one scratch on my car that ghost is dust along with Miss Witch," his brother replied, handing him a shotgun while he loaded a duffel with other weapons but hissed as a sudden pain struck in the back of the head. "Damn!"
Hearing Sam's voice in the background, the elder Winchester blinked as he was suddenly deluged with flashes of bright light like fire, stone walls, blood dripping from cuts and…
"Dean!" again Sam yelled, hands gripping his brother's shaking shoulders as he kept him from falling forward. Recognizing the signs from when he used to have visions, he wasn't sure he liked the implications now. "What happened?"
Pushing away from Sam only to fall against the Impala, Dean pushed the nausea down but only barely. It had been years since he'd had one of those. He'd never told anyone about them because they only happened the year he was sixteen and usually Morgan had better control of them. If she was sending that then he knew they needed to hurry.
"C'mon," he muttered, reaching for the duffel to find that Sam had already grabbed it. "Your head alright for this?"
Scoffing at his brother's attempt to turn the concern away from himself, Sam merely nodded. "You never did tell me how you and she got that link," he commented casually.
"Yeah, and you never told me what happened between her and Dad so we're even," Dean retorted, stepping into the woods and instantly wishing they were hunting a Wendigo again since he sure as hell didn't like the feelings in these trees.
"Dean, I told you what I know of the fight they had at Bobby's," Sam argued, surprised that the trees seemed to enclose the area so much that to see anything close they'd have to use a flashlight. It almost felt like being closed in a room with nearly no light.
Looking back without pausing, Dean's hard eyes told his brother that wasn't the confrontation that he meant and the younger Winchester swallowed. "I meant, you never told me what happened after Jim called her, Sam. You were there so I know you know. Whatever the hell happened then is what really turned Dad on her since before he was mildly tolerant but after is when it all went to hell."
"I was twelve, Dean," Sam argued quietly, not believing they were having this conversation now. "You expect me to remember what happened back then after everything else that's gone on in my damn life?" he rolled his eyes. "I know you don't trust me much these days but…"
Whirling unexpectedly, Dean had Sam up against a tree a heartbeat later. Green eyes glittering in a myriad of emotions as anger, despair, loss, rage and fear all built up out of the blue. "Don't start that crap!" he snapped. "I never said I didn't trust you, Sam. We were getting past all of that and we will but…" seeing the shadows in his little brothers eyes told Dean that Sam was still blaming himself for Carthage and the way Dean was shutting him out again. "Let's just get moving so we can find Morgan and get the hell outta these woods."
Stepping back to release his grip, Dean missed the pain that flashed on Sam's face or the way he caught himself or the hand he pressed to his back before he followed. "What's that?" he pointed to a tree up ahead.
As Dean stopped to look, Sam stepped closer to trace a finger over what now appeared to be some sort of carved sign in the bark of the old tree. "Tree graffiti?" he blinked, shining his light over it to see that the carving wasn't large but he noticed the smirk on his brother's face. "What?"
"Morgan put it here," he replied, tracing the carving again to be sure he'd read it right before meeting Sam's confused eyes and adding. "174, your SAT number."
Sam blinked. "How'd she know my SAT score?" he wondered then shook his head. "How'd she know anything about us, I know, I know."
"Nosy little brat, is what she is, Sammy," Dean remarked easily but wondered just how much his friend did know even though Sam had shown him a section of her journal that clearly explained that she'd been watching them even after the final night at Bobby's. "Hell, I sure Morgan knew every damn move you made before you did and I can guarantee you that she probably had Jessica scoped out before you moved in with her."
Leaving his brother to dwell on that, what Dean didn't mention was that probably Jessica Moore had at least once received a visitor who left clear warning on how Sammy should be treated since he knew damn good and well that Morgan wouldn't have accepted any girl as good enough for his little brother.
"She knew we'd come, didn't she?" Sam caught up as the trees grew heavier and so did the atmosphere. "How?"
"Morgan's not stupid, Sam. She knew if she was in trouble and the kid called that one of us would come," Dean paused to kneel down. "She was probably thinking you but…"
"No way. Only you'd know the code to the car trunk or what the symbol meant," Sam argued, holding his light down at whatever his brother was examining. "How did you know the symbol? I mean, it's like you and Morgan had your own little language or something."
Looking down to hide his smirk, Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, when you have a nosy little brother always around you figure out ways to communicate without too many words. Now look at this," he got them back on track even though he didn't miss his brother's disgusted snort.
"I was not nosy," Sam muttered under his breath, kneeling down to see the impression in the mud. It was a footprint but one much larger than that of the young woman they were looking for. "You think someone else is out here?"
"We have a possible curse, a possible witch, a bloodied ghost who likes to make people, or at least us, wreck, and a lot of missing people…" Dean stood and finally noticed the trouble Sam seemed to be having getting back up. "Hey, you sure you're alright?"
"I'm fine," Sam hedged, hoping the distractions they had right then would keep his brother from seeing through that lie since he had no intention of wasting their time with what he was sure was a little injury. "I think I see a clearing ahead."
Moving ahead of Dean, Sam hoped it was because he was starting to feel too on edge in the woods. It was like he could feel the eyes of someone or something watching them and it was making him too uneasy. Thinking back to Dean's outburst a few moments ago, he wondered if something in the woods could make their emotions change or make their memories react oddly to force a distraction because he was suddenly having a very hard time keeping his anxiety under control.
Recalling all of the doubts that had been plaguing him recently to the pain and grief of losing two close friends to the fear he felt at possibly losing another friend he wasn't surprised when he felt himself breathing faster as all of his thoughts just came down at once.
"Sam, what the hell?" Dean had grabbed his arm before he dropped to the ground. Noticing how pale and clammy his brother's skin was all of a sudden warned Dean what was happening. He just didn't know why it would happen now. "Sam, bad time for a panic attack," he warned, swearing to himself as he caught his brother's face. "Breathe with me and calm the hell down!"
It took a long moment before Sam was able to calm down enough to breathe and another before he was steady enough to allow his brother to pull him to his feet. "There's something in these woods, Dean."
"No joke, Sherlock," Dean muttered, keeping a steady hand on his little brother's shoulder as he nudged him out into the clearing just so they could both stop dead.
Taking in the house, the porch, the bright flowers it all seemed perfectly normal until they also took in the dead grass immediately around the house. "Huh," they both offered at the same time.
Dropping the duffel he'd taken from Sam, Dean tossed him the EMF detector while he stuck a flash of holy water in his jacket, freed the clasp from his knife sheath in case he needed it in a hurry and pulled his pistol. "Stay sharp."
Suddenly it was like it was back right after they'd gotten back together, after Dean had come for Sam in Stanford, after Jessica. They fell into a routine that was second nature to them. Taking in a possible haunted or cursed area and having to watch the other's back.
Crossing the dead yard slowly, Sam felt the same watching gaze but ignored it when something off to his left caught his eye. Whistling softly, he nodded once he knew he had his brother's attention.
"Oh, shit," Dean breathed as he knelt to pick the object up. Holding it so Sam could see it was a digital recorder, both brothers knew who it belonged to and finding it abandoned in a dead zone didn't make either very happy.
Winding it back, Dean hit play and both he and Sam listened to Morgan Harrison having a very disgusted conversation with herself even though Dean could pick up that she was basically leaving this for them…
" 'Okay, pay attention because this is the run down: In 1863, during the Civil War, Birkstown was founded by Elijah Murray. The town grew around a Church, a store, and the Murray home. On the outskirts of the town, deep in the forest lived Abigail Stone. A woman who supposedly killed her husband and infant daughter in a pact with the devil but I'm sure you know someone to ask if that's true. When a skirmish came close to her lands, a field unit of both Union and Confederate troops vanished and that's when locals who came too close also started vanishing. It wasn't until the son of Elijah Murray vanished that the town acted. They stormed the house in the woods to find corpses chained in the basement including the tortured corpse of Murray's son. They killed the woman who offered a curse that every twenty years, she'd return to wreck havoc on the town. After that every twenty years the disappearances begin again for a period of two weeks but nothing can be found to prove that it's Abigail and her curse…except the fact that her old house is still standing,'" the young British woman's voice was clear on the recorder but tense as it went on. "'Something about this all feels wrong, but I can't figure out what. It doesn't feel like it's all a witch's curse so just…'"
Something suddenly seemed to be interfering with Morgan's voice as static was heard on the recorder until it cleared up and they heard the last thing that the girl herself heard and then nothing but deathly silence except for an evil laugh and a low growl that immediately put Dean's back up even as Sam was speaking.
"Hellhounds don't record, not even on digital. It wasn't a hellhound, Dean," he could see the tension now rippling through his brother and understood it since only his brother could honestly say he'd been tore to shreds by the things and come back to tell the tale. "It could've been a black dog or something like that but…"
"Either way, that growl didn't spell good things for our girl," his brother nodded tersely, closing his eyes for just a second and wishing he hadn't because it brought back the night his deal had come due and his encounter with the hounds from hell. Even the thought of a damn black dog being near Morgan scared him more than he wanted to admit. "What else did that thing say?"
Taking the recorder while Dean looked around the area more closely, Sam gave his brother a chance to settle down while he rewound to listen. "The plain voice warned that Morgan should've stayed out of what didn't concern her…but it…it knew she was a witch herself? How'd a ghost know about her powers?" he wondered aloud, listening closer now to the static and his frown got deeper. "Memories are demons?" he repeated, looking up to see what his brother was holding. "Oh."
Seeing what appeared to have been a flask of Holy Water that was now crushed and burn told Sam that this was perhaps more than a casual witch when his gaze caught sight of the 9mm Browning his brother was putting in the duffel. "Dean?"
"We get her back, then we burn this place because whatever is powerful enough to make the ground around this place a dead zone and to burn a blessed silver flask of holy water is bad," Dean remarked, recalling the black sticky mess that had been on the ground where he'd picked up the flask. "Keep watch a second," he pulled his phone out and hit speed dial, then waited for the expected voice on the other end. "Cas, got a question."
Sam's eyebrows shot up, not expecting his brother to involve Castiel in this since he doubted the Angel would approve of them doing something non-Apocalypse related when another sound close by caught his ear.
"Cas, what type of power could dead zone an area of land so much that holy water would make the ground bleed black?" Dean asked after he was sure he had the full attention of the Angel, narrowing his eyes. "No, I'm not telling you where we are because I don't need you involved…yet. Just give me your best…"
"Demonic energy of the highest order," Castiel replied with certainty, halfway wondering if he should mention that he was with Bobby Singer before deciding not to. "It takes a great deal of negative energy to make even a small part of land die but for a large amount to be dead and to bleed black when touched with anything holy then you are most certainly dealing with some form of demonic power that very few demons save Lucifer and a few others could achieve."
Not liking that, Dean eyed the silver knife he removed from his sheath. "Any type of holy object besides Holy Water have the same affect?" he asked casually, kneeling down while holding his phone against his shoulder. "I mean, like silver?"
"The silver would have had to have been blessed by a very powerful Holy man or engraved in either Latin or better yet Enochian but yes, silver would have the same affect," the Angel admitted, seeing Bobby frown at him and motion to find out what the boys were into. "Dean, where are you and Sam and why…?"
Touching the blade of the knife to the ground, Dean jerked it back instantly when he felt the rumble come up from the ground and into his arm. "Sonuvabitch!" he hissed, hearing the first snarl and whirling. "Shit! Gotta go, Cas. Black dogs that don't look happy," he disconnected before Castiel could reply and jumped to his feet to find his brother. "Sam!"
Not wanting to be around to hear the argument he figured his brother and their Angel pal would be getting into soon, Sam wondered closer to the house in search of what he kept hearing when he noticed a wet spot near the steps. Kneeling down to touch it, he instantly knew it was blood and prayed it wasn't that of his friend when he heard the sound again…softer this time but recognizable as cries of pain from within the house.
Looking up to call Dean, he spotted the first of three large black dogs that had just appeared even as his brother was running towards him. "Those are…"
"Yeah and we aren't prepared for Black Dogs, Sam," Dean snapped, jerking his brother to his feet and prepared to shove him up the steps when his hand landed on Sam's back and felt the wetness through his jacket even before his brother shushed a pained cry. "Damn it! Get inside!" not giving Sam a chance to argue, he pulled him up the steps and into the house without a thought at how bad an idea that probably was.
"You know this is probably a cursed house that was just waiting for us to step inside it, right?" Sam shot back, back searing now and making the room spin while the door was slammed shut even as the first dog banged into it. "That door won't hold for long."
Holding up a can of salt that he'd pulled from the duffel, Dean quickly salted the door and both front windows to hopefully buy them time. "Did you plan on telling me that you were bleeding?" he asked tightly, refusing to grit his teeth in frustration. "How bad and from what?"
"It's not an issue," Sam argued, not wanting this right then when he knew they'd just stepped into something bad. "I heard something from in here but couldn't tell from where."
Satisfied that they wouldn't become dogfood right away, Dean looked around to see that the inside of the house hadn't been quite as shielded as the outside but it was preserved pretty well. Too well for a place that should've been cinders by know. "According to Morgan's little history lesson, the bodies were found in the basement so that's probably where we should look but what Cas said worries me, Sam," he admitted. "No witch from the 19th Century should have been able to conjure this much negative energy without some kind of help or something."
"Well, we suspected that so let's go check the basement and…" Sam stopped in mid-sentence as a scream tore through the air and both Winchesters exchanged glances. "Dean…"
Hearing the unexpressed caution in his brother's voice, Dean fought against his most basic urge to move since he'd recognized the voice despite the pain it held. "Rocksalt, silver or Holy water, Sam," he gritted, gripping the knife tightly while holding his .45 in the other as Sam slowly opened the basement door which was heavier than it should have been.
"Dean, this door isn't from the 19th Century. This was put in later," he commented, beginning to come up with more questions than they had time for right then as the foul stench hit from the basement and both young men nearly gagged. "Be careful," Sam hissed in warning, covering from the rear while taking the basement steps slowly.
Fighting the basic urge to laugh at that warning, Dean stepped on one step lightly to be sure it would hold but scowled when he realized the damn thing was too sturdy to be that old. Assured that he and Sam wouldn't be falling through the steps, he took them faster but still cautiously since he didn't know what was waiting in the basement.
Looking back at Sam, he motioned for his brother to go to the right as soon as they hit bottom while he'd take the left and much larger, more open side. Seeing Sam's patented bitch-face even in the near blackness, he knew his brother didn't agree but would do it.
Stepping off the last step, Dean waited for Sam to get down before touching his shoulder to engage eye contact. "Shoot anything that isn't me or Morgan," he whispered tightly, going with the safe plan of shoot first and ask stupid questions later. "And be careful."
Nodding, the look the brothers shared was an easy 'you too' message since both knew the other would have their back. It was what else was waiting in the dark that worried them.
Letting the barrel of the shotgun lead the way, Sam moved slowly. Hearing sounds like water dripping when he knew there wasn't any told him that something or someone was trying to mess with their heads even before he took another step to run into…
"Sam."
Freezing at the soft voice, Sam just lifted the shotgun to fire and let the round of rocksalt to force the image of his long dead girlfriend out of sight except when he looked again, Jessica was still standing in front of him wearing the same Smurf T-shirt and shorts she had the night in Stanford.
"Go to hell," he gritted, getting tired of everyone using Jess's image against him. "You're not her. Jess is dead and buried and…"
"Dead, yes. Buried? Not so much since how can you bury ashes?" the image smiled kindly, looking around the cold and dank basement. "Have you thought how much pain the people in your life suffers for you?"
Refusing to accept the image or her words, Sam turned to one side to continue on when he felt cold fingers grab his arm. "Your mother died for you, I died for you, your brother could have died how many times for you?" she tsked lightly. "You know, the term memories are demons really do apply to you, Sam since how many memories do you have that eat you up? I mean, it can't be easy to know how often your big brother took a hit to protect you. You remember being so selfish and running away. You remember what your Daddy did to Dean because of it just like you know that if that hadn't happened your brother wouldn't have lost his little friend all those years ago and Dean actually might have been happy," she taunted softly against his ear. "The pretty little witch could have protected you both so many times just like she could've saved Dean's life without your Daddy dying but John refused and that nasty fight that you witnessed between them when you were a boy, you haven't told Dean all of it because you know what your Dad…"
"." Sam whirled with the demon killing knife they still had of Ruby's to plunge it into the heart of the image of Jessica only to have it dissolve with laughter. "Damn it," he swore, knowing the knife would've killed a demon but this thing just vanished so if it was a ghost or a witch then it had more power than it should have when a more disturbing thought formed.
Yes, it was time for the curse to start again but why suddenly would a victim be targeted that would draw Morgan into the mix? He'd wondered that since he'd listened to the voice recorder and heard the voice call his friend a witch since very few people knew she had abilities much less a ghost.
"Involve Morgan, involve Dean," he whispered, feeling sick from the wound he'd gotten back in Carthage that he hadn't mentioned to his brother or Bobby and the headache he'd gained when the car skidded wasn't helping. "Shane said that Morgan had an encounter in New Orleans. Dean thinks it was probably Zachariah. The Angels can't find us unless they have help, they must know by now about Dean's past with her so…oh shit."
Grabbing the wall to keep from falling, Sam knew he had to find his brother. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that this was way more than a witch out for revenge. "Dean!"
"What?" Dean had started to turn toward the back of the much larger than he'd first thought basement when he caught a sidelong glance of something and all further thoughts fled his mind. "Oh, my God."
Skipping caution for the sake of speed, he moved quickly to the center of what must have been the original basement and ignored the iron chains that still hung on the walls so he could concentrate on the large oblong stone in the center of the room that held one of the few other people in his life, other than his brother, that he still cared for.
"Morgan?" Dean swallowed the words that wanted to come as he neared the stone the young woman was bound to.
After close to six days of captivity by whatever, Morgan Harrison looked more dead than alive. Bound by chains that Dean knew did not look too old, she was a sickly white. Noticing the long cuts on her arms and the dripping blood that had pooled into bowls on either side, he felt this temper spark even as he was gently feeling along her neck for a pulse.
Finding it beating weakly, he let out a breath before noticing the bruises on her neck and face that was more in line with a beating while chained than in a fight. The shredded shirt and the welts on pale skin underneath also warned him that the girl had been hurt after capture and by something more than some damn spirit.
Hearing a soft whisper made him snap back to the present, pushing his raging temper aside to concentrate of getting the goddamn chains off before he found what had done this and kicked their asses six-ways to Sunday. "Easy," he soothed, surprised that it was so easy to fall back into a tone he'd only use with his much younger brother when Sam was sick or hurt or…Morgan.
For her part, the pain, the shock, the cold and whatever else she'd been hit with wasn't enough to make her not tense at the feel of hands. Tensing suddenly against the cold, unbreakable chains, she struggled to see but only saw shadows right then.
"No…not…get…" she tried to cry out when a gentle finger was pressed against dry, split and swollen lips and this time the voice managed to pierce the hazy fog she'd been living with since that day in the yard.
"Morgan…damn it, Angel, stop before you make yourself bleed out," Dean spoke softly but firmly in the hopes that she'd at least recognize something and was relieved when he felt her stop the weak struggles to go limp again. "That's good, now listen to me. I'm gonna get these damn things off but try not to move," he urged, looking around for something to stop the more serious bleeding but finding nothing. "Sam!"
Screwing the need for silence right then, Dean wanted his brother there to not only watch his back while he was basically leaving himself wide open for attack and because he knew that if he could get Morgan half-way coherent then she'd listen to Sam.
"Dean! Dean, we need to go!" Sam hurried around the corner, gasping for breath and fighting to keep his stomach down.
"Yeah, little brother, I know that but first I need to get these off or we're going nowhere fast," Dean returned tightly, swearing when he couldn't get even the first chain picked and feeling his friend tensing again. "Damn, Sam you can pick a lock faster," he muttered, hating to admit that fact out loud. "See if you can get these off of her."
Trying to calm down, it took Sam a second to focus and when he did he nearly lost his stomach again. "God, Dean, is she…"
"She's alive, Sammy," his brother assured him, easing up to the top of the stone to kneel down so he'd be more at eye level when he noticed cloudy blue eyes trying to open. "She's been cut and is losing too much blood, so we need those off, now. Can you do that, little brother?"
Despite the calm tone, Sam still heard the undercurrent of fear in his older brother's deep voice. He also noticed how Dean's hands shook briefly but when they reached to stroke Morgan's long tangled auburn hair back, they were steady.
Understanding what Dean was asking, Sam merely nodded and pushed back his own pain to take the lockpick to the first lock while he struggled to ignore his friend's injuries and what she must have gone through.
"Shh, easy. It's just Sammy getting those off," Dean was soothing, taking his jacket off in order to rip a sleeve off of his long sleeved button down shirt so he could use it to wipe the blood off of one arm and see how deep the cuts were. "Sonuvabitch," he bit the curse off as much as he could when he saw that while the long thin cuts on her arms weren't bad the wrist cuts were and quickly tied the material from his shirt around those to hopefully slow the bleeding.
Sam felt the first chain holding Morgan's right arm come loose so he gently removed the cuff while not so gently throwing it across the room. As he went to work on the left side he noticed that Dean had gently enfolded her hand into his. Even as he listened to his brother talk softly, much more softly than he was used to Dean being recently, he noticed that his brother's long fingers seemed to be moving gently against her palm and he realized what he was doing now.
"That's how you two talk without anyone knowing. How you both could be on the same page totally when it came to ganging up on me without saying a word," he mused quietly, not having to lift his head to know that his brother hadn't stopped moving his fingers but had looked toward him. "Just like you know what that symbol on the tree was, you have a special sign language or something like it that allows you to talk to each other without me or Bobby or Pastor Jim knowing."
"College Boy still thinks he so smart, Angel," Dean joked, his voice more husky than he normally would have allowed his brother to hear but he was fighting on two fronts now. Keeping Morgan calm while trying to maintain his tough, no-emotion or chick-flick moments persona to Sam. He figured he'd toss the latter and call do-over later. "How'd you think I got anywhere with her when you were always around, Sammy? Kinda hard to talk when my little brother was always chattering or getting into mischief that I swear you just did to annoy me," he sighed. "She didn't like using the mental link too much. I think she was afraid of it or of Dad finding out so we only used it when touching wasn't an option…though I tried to make sure that touching was always an…" he stopped, shaking his head. "Too weak right now to use that, babe,"
Guessing that even hurt, scared and in shock, Morgan probably didn't want him to know what his brother had been doing at sixteen, Sam covered his smile as he went back to work on the final wrist cuff to finally feel it snap free before he moved to the locks binding her legs.
Giving his brother and friend what little privacy he could right then, Sam concentrated on picking the locks when he noticed the engraving on these. Running a finger over the markings, he could make out a little of it and bit his lip. He'd studied enough books and such to know Enochian when he saw it and if these bindings were engraved with that language then his hunch went up another notch.
"Dean, she can't use her powers even if she were strong enough," he murmured quietly, feeling her jerk when he accidentally brushed against her leg. "These chains have an Enochian binding spell on them."
Looking up quickly at that comment, the question burning his tongue fell off as he slowly understood the meaning and felt his temper spark briefly until the hand he was holding tensed. "It's all good," he promised tightly, easing up to sit on the edge of the stone slab to gently ease her up until she was leaning back against his chest. "It's all good…and I'm going to kill that son of a bitch personally."
Now more awake even if her eyes still weren't clear to fully see, Morgan could feel Dean next to her. She felt his fingers moving in a familiar way and soon recognized the words he was signing as mindless babble just to soothe her, to keep her calm while Sam worked. Unwilling to speak for fear of crying which was something she was not willing to do in front of the younger Winchester, she did hear the anger in Dean's tone.
Fingers stiff from days of not using them and the blood loss, she did finally get them to slowly move against his to painfully sign something back.
"No, I do not think I'm going to let this drop," Dean snorted, reaching with one arm for his leather jacket which he carefully wrapped around her since he could feel her cold she was but knowing that Morgan probably wasn't even aware of her bad she was now shaking. "You tell me a crazy witch did this then I might after I salt and burn the bitch but no damn witch is gonna have chains engraved with Enochian or…"
"Dean," Sam merely looked up, shifting his eyes to their friend before back to him in a typical Sammy way of saying 'shut up until later'.
It took longer than either Winchester liked to get the last chains off but finally Sam tossed the last one away and as soon as he had, his brother was moving to quickly but still very carefully shift the young woman into his arms in order to get her off the slab.
"Okay, we need to move," he declared, noticing the thin layer of sweat on his brother's face. "Sammy? You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good," Sam lied but he wasn't going to distract Dean anymore than he was and he knew they needed to get out. "You have her?"
Knowing that Morgan was in no shape to walk, Dean had already decided he'd handle that but after seeing his brother he was wondering about giving Morgan to Sam so he could cover their escape but Sam was already moving ahead of him up the steps.
"Yeah, I know he's lying and no, I don't know how bad he's hurt," he sighed, feeling the shaking fingers move against his chest as she spoke to him in the only way she could right then. "Just close your eyes. I'm taking you outta here and…your brother probably wants to toss my ass in jail by the way."
If Morgan had any strength right then, he knew the comment he'd get but just by the way she curled into him told Dean how bad she was hurting so he stopped the jokes and wisecracks to go up the steps slowly until he heard the first blast of the shotgun. "Sam?" he shouted. "Sammy, what the hell are you…oh, shit."
Coming up the steps, Dean saw the front door open and his brother on the porch firing at several rather large looking black dogs. "Shit! Sam, get back inside!"
"I switched rounds, we can get past them, through the woods to the Impala, Dean," Sam countered, firing again before looking at his brother. "Take Morgan and go, I'll cover you."
Morgan had tensed but before she could think of a way to warn Dean, he was already shaking his head furiously. "Have you lost your mind?" he demanded, seeing a thin silhouette of a woman on the outskirts of the yard. "We don't have anything to ward of black dogs and those things would be on us as soon as we got in those trees. Take her while I call Cas or…"
"No time to call Cas and that probably wouldn't be a good plan right now," Sam shot back, firing another blast to strike a dog to send it screaming back. "You see? Just go. They won't enter the treeline, Dean. Those dogs are bound to this section of land and I doubt they'd have wasted more in the trees." seeing his brother about to refuse, Sam finally shouted at him. "She's bleeding out, Dean! You need to get Morgan clear and to a damn hospital. Do you seriously want to waste time arguing with me about this?"
Barely swallowing the retort that came to mind, Dean's eyes shifted to the barely conscious young woman he was holding to his suddenly very determined little brother. "You stick right with me, Sam," he warned, hating this plan even as Morgan seemed to be trying to tell him something only to have him shush her. "Little brother has a plan…of course the last time I followed one of his…" he stopped but not before he saw Sam's face drop. "Sammy, I'm…I didn't mean…"
"Yeah, I know, Dean," Sam forced a tight smile only to add in a whisper once his brother turned. "That's why I won't see it happen again."
Still not caring for this idea and fully expecting to be pounced on as soon as he stepped off the porch, Dean was surprised to see the dogs jumping but only so far and they always retreated at a blast from Sam's weapon. "Well, what d'ya know?" he muttered when they were about three feet from the tree line. "That actually worked and…" a sudden sharp rap to his chest had him looking down to see that Morgan's eyes were wide and looking over his shoulder at something.
Turning to glance at whatever she was seeing, Dean felt his stomach drop and his blood pressure explode. "Sam! What in the goddamn hell are you doing?" he demanded, finally seeing that his little brother wasn't directly behind him as he had thought but still halfway between Dean and Morgan and the now gathering pack of dogs. "Sammy? Get your ass in gear here!"
"…Dean…" Morgan's voice was a whisper but the fear was plain as she'd seen what Sam had planned from the start but couldn't tell his brother.
Suddenly understanding what she was silently saying, Dean swore violently. "Sam! Don't you do this! Move it, now!"
"I said I'd cover you and I will, Dean," the younger Winchester called out; pain in his voice and suddenly Dean noticed how pale his brother seemed. How unsteady and shaking. "They won't enter the tree line because I won't let 'em. I won't lose you and Morgan like we lost Jo and Ellen. I won't fail you like that a second time." he declared, refusing to meet his brother's eyes because he didn't want to see the pain or disappointment in them like he'd been seeing. "I can make it right finally."
Feeling panic seeping in, Dean struggled for control or for divine intervention in the form of Castiel who he had stupidly not told where they were. "Make what right?" he demanded, at a loss for the reason behind this plan. "You didn't kill Ellen and Jo, Sam. You didn't know the Colt wouldn't work. You…"
"It was my fault you got hurt."
Those words stopped Dean cold and made Morgan tense in his arms but only she thought she understood why he was doing this and wished for the strength to talk to Sam…or smack him. "What the hell are you talking about?" Dean was lost and he wanted them gone but leaving Sam wasn't an option for him. "I got a concussion when Lucifer tossed me…"
"You got hurt when I ran away to Flagstaff!" Sam shouted, emotions not showing on a boy who was always heavy with them. "It was my fault Dad hurt you. He was angry and beat you. You were hurt so bad when Dad took us to Pastor Jim's that Jim called Morgan. If you hadn't been hurt so bad she wouldn't have gotten so angry at Dad and went to him and that's how he found out about her powers. If he hadn't found out about them then he wouldn't have threatened her and us and she wouldn't have left you and you would've been happy." finally taking a breath, Sam didn't seem aware of the tears on his face. "She wouldn't have left, Dean. I can't say I still wouldn't have left for school but at least when I had, you still wouldn't have been alone. It was my fault."
Shocked into silence, Dean was fighting to find any words when he heard the deep growls beginning. "Sammy…" he didn't know what to say to that. He didn't know what the hell had happened in those days after their Dad left them in Blue Earth, Montana. He'd passed out there but woke up days later in a cabin in the Nevada mountains and neither Jim nor Morgan had ever answered him clearly. "Sammy, please. We can get outta this but…"
"You can get out. Get her out, Dean. I'll be fine," Sam shrugged with a laugh that was too shaky to be anything less than full shock. "It's not like they can kill me. Lucifer won't let me die, remember. Go."
Feeling Morgan trying to talk, to beg Sam not to do this, Dean closed his eyes and made a choice he knew he'd regret if he couldn't make it right. "You fight your way back to the house, seal the door and wait for me," he snapped, making his voice tougher than he felt like. "I'll be back for you, little brother," he promised, catching Sam's watery sad eyes for a brief moment. "I'll be back."
"I know, Dean," he nodded, swallowing suddenly to toss out what he'd wanted to say to his brother since he'd returned from Hell. "I…I love you."
Silently glad he'd halfway turned so Sam couldn't see the tear tracks on his face, Dean forced a nod before returning a tightly voiced. "Yeah, me too, Sammy."
Sam watched as his brother and friend disappeared from sight before quickly wiping his face and turning to face the spirit woman. "You aren't controlling them," he remarked, lifting the gun to fire even as he did move back to the cover of the house and had nearly made it when he'd fired at one creature when another slipped in under his blind spot and he felt the teeth sink into his thigh.
Covering the scream that wanted to come because if Sam knew one thing he knew his brother would turn around if he heard that, he slammed the butt of the weapon into the snout of the dog. Forcing it to yelp and let go as he fired again while managing to make it into the house, shut the door but knew it wouldn't keep them out long. He just hoped it was long enough to buy Dean and Morgan the time to get clear.
Leaning against the door, he dragged his torn leg up to check the damage and saw it was bad. Even if it wasn't, being bitten by a black dog and not getting immediate help would make him too sick to react on top of the infection he already had.
Hearing the door crack, he rolled away from it just as it caved in to allow two of the things to pounce right at him.
"I'm sorry, Dean," he whispered, preparing to feel razor sharp teeth when his mind gave in to darkness.
Halfway through the trees, both Dean and Morgan heard the shotgun firing and then it gave way to an eerie silence that he refused to accept meant what he knew it did. Knowing he could turn around to go back, the older Winchester also knew if he did that now he'd probably lose both his brother and Morgan.
Not certain how he found the way back to the Impala, Dean released a shuddering breath when he cleared the trees to see the shiny black car parked where they'd left her.
"Easy," he whispered, struggling to open the door while not causing her more pain Dean eased Morgan down on the back seat. Letting his hand rest briefly on her face and felt both the fever and the tears when her eyes opened to lock on his. "He'll be fine, Morgan," he whispered, telling himself that his voice was shaking because of the run through the woods and not because of the tears he refused to let fall at the thought of his little brother dying. "I'm getting you someplace safe and then I'm going back for him." he stated, leaning in to brush his lips over her forehead as he had once before getting behind the wheel.
Putting the keys in, Dean had to sit still to will his hands to stop shaking before he could turn the key when a sound seemed to echo from deep, deep within those dark trees. A scream that tore both heart and soul of a man who thought he'd lost both in Hell.
"Hang on, Sammy…"
TBC
A/N: Will Sam survive the black dogs or will something else come for him? Will Dean get back to his brother in time or will he encounter more troubles than even he could expect? What exactly did go on during the time when Dean was sixteen that Sam blames himself for? So many questions. Come back for Chapter 4 to find out some answers. Look for surprises, more big black puppies and Teen!Chester flashbacks! I know and I'll update soon, promise.
Thanks for reading. Reviews are welcome since they feed the muse.
He was only a small ways into the thick trees before they both heard the shotgun blasts and then suddenly nothing but deathly silence.