When the Cradle Falls
Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Conjurer
Parked underneath a deserted underpass, Dean pulled out his phone and pressed one of the numbers on his speed dial. "He hasn't shown up yet? And you haven't heard anything from him?"
"I would've called you right away if he showed up here, you know that. Look, I'm sure he's okay," Alice assured.
Dean shook his head. "No, I've called him a thousand times and there's nothing but voicemail. I don't know where he went and why. Sam's just gone." He paused. "I swear it's like looking for my dad all over again. I'm losing my mind here."
There was a pause for a minute. "Dean, I swear to you it's going to be okay. We'll find him. Alright? Look, I can take a few days off, drop the kid's at Bobby's and help you—"
Suddenly realizing how ridiculous this all was, Dean quickly cut her off. "No no no. You're right. I'll find him. You don't need to take off work. I can handle this. Just let me know if he shows up. Alright? I should let you get back to work."
"Dean."
Dean sighed and put the phone back up to his ear. "Yeah?"
"None of this is your fault."
"I never said—"
"I know how you are," Alice cut him off. "I know how you can get with family. But I need you to listen to me. You are a great brother and you are a great father. You are good, Dean."
There was a lull in the conversation, Dean momentarily forgetting about his MIA brother.
"But am I good to you?" Dean finally asked.
There was silence from the other end as Alice seemed to comprehend the question.
Finally, she responded. "You always have been."
He scoffed quietly and leaned back. "Don't lie."
"I'm not!" Alice replied, a bit defensively. "You have always been good to me. Look, every relationship has their rough patches but we have always been good together."
There was an even larger wash of silence. From her end of the line, Alice felt like beating herself over the head. Relationship? Had she really just said that? Yes it was evident they had history and had something ongoing but…God why did she have to define what they were? They were always better when things were nebulous it seemed.
Before Dean could respond, Alice was covering up her faux pas. "Look, I should go. If you need anything just call me. Love you." She hung up before she could hear him on the end of the other line.
Socked feet propped up off the back of the couch, Cara hung upside down, holding her brand new pink cellphone to her ear. She had begged and begged her parents to get her her own phone for weeks—and both of them had finally relented with Dean insisting "there better not be any boys in your contacts"—deciding they thought she could handle it, and knowing she wasn't going to stop until she got one, now that she was in middle school. It had taken a little convincing after the stunt she had pulled on the last hunt that had went on at the haunted hotel, but Cara suspected her parents felt guilty for leaving her alone to find the ghost. Either way, she didn't care. And she was careful because she wasn't planning on asking for anything else for a while.
And, of course, one of the best parts of it was the fact Noah hadn't gotten one. Alice and Dean had told him he could get one when he started middle school.
"Yeah, Jillian, I know I don't know why she's bothering to date him. All they do is ignore each other and if you ask me he could do a lot better than—"
There was a loud crash that came from the front door. Falling backwards, Cara tumbled onto the floor, landing on her head. Scrambling up quickly, she snatched her fallen phone and pressed it to her ear. "Hey there's someone at the door. I'll call you back soon." Flipping her phone shut, Cara carefully placed it in her back pocket and jumped slightly when there was another bang. At least it sounded like it was coming from outside.
Stealthing into the kitchen, Cara pulled a kitchen chair up to the cabinet positioned above the fridge. She reached for a tin box, nearly dropping it when there was another bang—this one sounding like it struck a window this time.
Grabbing an iron butter knife, Cara jumped from the chair and snatched up some table salt that sat on the back of the stove.
Cara crept down the hallway to the foyer and peeked out the front window. Finally seeing what was happening outside, she huffed and slammed her weapons down onto the window sill, several seconds before she nearly ripped the front door off its hinges.
"What are you doing?" Cara demanded to her little brother.
He stood in the middle of the yard, a collection of baseballs near his feet. He was lightly bobbing one back and forth between his hands. And as soon as Cara asked him the question, he launched one at the front door. It sailed past her, into the house, a mere few inches away from Cara's head.
"Are you crazy?! You almost hit me!" Cara screamed.
Unbothered, Noah lightly shrugged and picked up another baseball. This one he turned over and over in his hands, inspecting every inch of the object.
"Why are you here? Don't you have school?" Cara asked, but Noah didn't seem to pay her any mind.
"Look I know you're mad I don't have to go to school cause of the flu that's been going around, but it's not my fault they shut down my school and not yours."
There was no indication that Noah had even heard what Cara said. His finger traced along the red stitching of the ball.
It felt like there was a small weight that had anchored Cara's heart, dragging it down.
"Noah?" Cara was a little more cautious with her tone this time; she matched that with a tentative step down the tallest stair.
Eyes slowly moving away from the ball, Noah finally looked at his sister. When he made eye contact with her, she froze. He was slack-jawed, flat affect with a vacant stare.
Cara immediately knew that was not her brother.
Backpedaling towards the door, Cara was about to reach for the handle when there was a terrible sound that came from within her head, so loud that it felt like her skull was gonna peel in half. Immediately collapsing, clutching her head, Cara couldn't decide what the sound was. It sounded like roaring. She didn't know it was a waterfall, a lion, or a car engine. But she didn't really have time to think as she let out a cry when the volume increased. It felt like her brain was being squeezed to liquid.
With Cara in a fetal position on the front step of their home, Noah slowly approached her. He reached into his pocket and carefully grabbed the corded end of a necklace, avoiding the charm that was on one end. He held it loosely in one hand.
His other hand was clenched halfway into a fist. Coming to kneel down in front of Cara, he became irritated at the sounds of her cries. In a swift motion, he closed his fist the rest of the way, which seemed to make Cara convulse for a few seconds before becoming still.
With a sigh, Noah finally released his fist. As he stood, he had a head rush and staggered back several steps. Growling in frustration, his hand swiped underneath his nose. Inspecting the hand, he saw a red streak.
Taking a steadying breath, Noah closed his eyes. Once he let the breath out, he opened his pitch black eyes, and dropped the anti-possession necklace that was in his other hand.
Dean had gotten a call from Sam. Sam told him to go to Room 109 at some shady hotel. The hallway was narrow and dingy—so bad that even Dean cringed away when a rotten-toothed meth head slid past him, he pressed himself into the wall.
Finally reaching the room, Dean began to frantically pound on the door. "Sam? Sammy? Come on man, let me in!" Still knocking with one hand, Dean used his other to reach for the knob, only to find the door unlocked.
Tensing at that, Dean carefully reached for his gun and pulled the safety off, keeping it pointed low. The door opened with a low creak and Dean stepped into the room, slowly raising his gun, sweeping it across the room; the weapon stopped once pointed at the collapsed full sized bed.
Recognizing the shaggy head turned away from him, Dean immediately secured his weapon and slid across the floor, kneeling in front of his brother, noticing the dark stains covering the younger brother's hands and clothing.
"Sammy? Are you bleeding?" Dean demanded, trying to grab for his hands.
"I tried to wash it off," Sam responded passively. His voice made it sound like his mind was far away.
"Is it yours?"
"No."
"Then whose is it?"
Sam shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."
Standing, Dean shook his head and ran a hand over his hair. "Jesus Christ." He turned back to his brother. "Sam, what the hell happened?"
As if hearing Dean for the first time, Sam looked up, his eyes wide, eyebrows pulled low, indicating his stress. His bloodied hands were held up slightly, as if showing his brother. "Dean…I don't remember anything."
BREAK
Miss Lindy loved her job. She loved the kids, the classroom, and the tall glass of red wine that waited for her every night at home.
Her class of fourth graders had just gotten back from recess and were now all sitting at their desks, quietly conversing among themselves as she wrote on the board.
Turning her head towards her class, she gave them an instruction. "Okay, everyone number off." It was how she took attendance on most days. Each child was assigned a number and at this point in the year, the entire class could recite it in under thirty seconds.
That was until there was a gaping pause in the middle of the alphabet.
Frowning at the silence, the teacher peered around until she noticed an empty desk near the back of the room. "Noah? Where's Noah?" The class just stared at her blankly.
"He was here before recess. Did anyone see him on the playground?" Her voice was becoming a little more frantic. She had only been teaching for three years and never had to deal with a missing child, especially considering she had seen him within the past hour.
Liam Kingston raised his hand slowly. He was one of Noah's best friends in the class. "I—I saw him."
"Where?"
"On the blacktop. A bunch of us were playing kickball and he came over and told me he was playing hooky and not to tell anyone."
Miss Lindy's mouth hung open for a moment, like a trap waiting for flies. Her mind was blank for a few seconds as she scrambled to figure out what to do.
Eventually, she marched towards the door. "Liam, come with me. We're going to the office."
"Am I in trouble?" He asked timidly.
"No, but you're going to tell the principal what you told me so we can find your runaway friend. Everyone else, start copying down the sentences on the board in cursive."
As she turned back to the room, she gave a final, pointed look to the rest of her students. "I'll be back. And when I come back, all of you better be here. I don't want to have to track down any more students today." One was more than enough.
It looked like that glass of wine tonight was gonna be more like a bottle.
Alice was busy making her rounds between patients when her pager went off. Looking at the notice, she saw she had a phone call at the nurses' station. Sucking in her teeth, she shoved the object back into her pocket and contemplated ignoring the call. She knew Dean was worried about his brother. And she had even taken off work to help him find Sam. But, Dean insisted he didn't need her help. If that was the case, he couldn't just call her constantly when she was working—her supervisor was already pissed at her that she had taken so many personal calls over the past few months. Alice never really had a good reason for them. She couldn't very well say her family was plagued by actual hellspawn.
She'd end up on the locked ward one floor above her unit.
The pager finally stopped and Alice let out a breath, relaxing a bit, and continued on her rounds.
However, after seeing two more patients, the pager started to vibrate and ring more angrily than before—if that was at all possible. Alice stiffened in irritation and contemplated ignoring it. However, it could've been something serious, such as a patient. Upon further inspection, Alice once again saw it was from the nurse's station.
Grinding her teeth, Alice readjusted her stethoscope and charged down the hallway. Once she approached the secretary at the station, she held up the still ringing pager in one hand. "What is it? I have patients I have to see—"
"It's your kid's school—" The secretary said, looking equally as irritated. No doubt she had been hearing ringing nonstop as well.
Alice dropped the pager. Cara was at home due to a flu outbreak, so that meant it was Noah. Lips pulling into a thin line, Alice's irritation turned to light anger. Noah had always been so well-behaved and actually excited for school, but just as a few months back she had been getting calls that he had been falling asleep in school, those calls had turned more sour. Every now and again, she would receive calls that he had forgotten his homework, refused to come in from recess—being openly insubordinate. Alice knew it had something to do with his auditory visions, but Noah insisted they weren't bothering him.
She should've known better.
Alice had to get a hold on her son's behavior.
Alice picked up the phone after pressing the button to the flashing line.
Before Alice could even finish her "hello", the person on the other line was frantically chattering away. "Mrs. Mercer? Why haven't you been picking up? Nevermind that. This is Audra Lindy, Noah's teacher. I was wondering if you heard from your son?"
Heard from him? "No. I'm at work right now. Shouldn't he be—"
"—at school? Yes you would think so! But I've been informed by one of my other students that Noah left the school's premises during recess and has failed to return to class."
Alice gripped the phone tighter. "What do you mean 'failed to return to class'? Where is he?"
"That is what we are trying to figure out Mrs. Mercer! Now have you seen or heard your son?" The teacher sounded both frantic and accusing, a tone Alice didn't particularly care for.
"Listen, like I said before, I've been at work and haven't heard from him. I'm more concerned about how you lose a ten-year-old? Was no one watching him on the playground? And how did you not notice he was gone immediately?" Alice demanded, turning sudden panic back on the teacher.
Ms. Lindy became flustered on the other end. "I-I-the kids were in for less than a few minutes before I noticed he was gone. As soon as I realized he was, I immediately informed the principal and have been trying to call you ever since. The recess monitors are holding their statements now, Miss." Alice had always thought Noah's teacher was nice, but really didn't like the insinuation that this whole thing was her fault, especially when she'd been working.
Alice's worry was exponentially multiplying. Her anger with Noah for misbehaving had turned to pure fear. There wasn't a shroud of doubt that this was something supernatural. It was too much of a coincidence that Sam had gone missing, and now Noah was missing. Once she found Noah, Alice was half-determined to take her children and go live on an isolated mountain with them, never letting them out of her sight.
How many times would these monsters have to remind her of her incompetence as a parent?
It was times like this Alice wished her Aunt Jan was still here. The older woman would've known what to do.
"—calling the police."
"Wait!" Alice shouted loudly. Several visitors, doctors, and nurses gave her looks, ranging from shock to disgust. "Before you call them, let me check my home and call a few people. Okay?"
There were a few seconds of quiet judgement. "Aren't you worried your son was kidnapped?"
Who the hell would say that? Alice thought. Even though—in a way—the teacher was probably right. "You said he told someone he was leaving the playground. Look…I know my son. Let me try to find him. I'll be at the school soon."
Miss Lindy went to give Alice another snarky command, but she slammed the phone down and rushed into her supervisor's office.
"Amata, I'm sorry but I have to go," Alice said, hanging on the doorway of the office door.
Amata was a level-headed, understanding woman who required the same respect in return. The dark haired, middle aged woman looked up from the stack of paperwork in front of her. "Where?"
"My son…"
Amata sighed and shoved a few papers aside. "It's always something, Alice."
Her hands released from the doorframe, and she took a step into the office. "Amata, what are you talking about?"
Looking regretful, Amata pushed her reading glasses up her face and stared heavenward. "You're one of my best nurses."
"Thanks…" Alice felt another stone piling into her chest. "But I just wanted to tell you my son—"
Now looking somewhat distraught, Amata stood, causing Alice to stop her speech. Looking down at her dark wooden desk, Amata pulled open a drawer and reached into it.
Alice listened to the sound of rustling paper and watched as Amata produced a pink piece of paper.
The nurse's stomach dropped to her feet.
"Amata. Please."
Shaking her head, the woman tiredly pulled the glasses off her face. "You've given me no choice, Alice. You have to know I don't want to do this, but this has been a long time coming. You've been late, left early, and haven't shown up at all too many times. Most nurses would've been fired on the spot for the things you've done."
The supervisor sighed and took a seat back behind her desk. "I really really hate to do this Alice. You are so good with the patients. You get along with everyone. And I really have waited for you to come around—to show me you will be here when you are supposed to.
"But, I can't wait any longer. Look, I want you to know I don't want to do this, but the patients' needs need to come first, you understand. So because of that, I'm sorry Alice, but I have to let you go."
Alice was about a second away from dropping to her knees as the pink slip was held out to her.
"Amata, you know I'm a single mother of two—"
Shaking her head, Amata sighed and steeled her expression. "Look, I'm sure it's hard for you as a single mother, but you are not the only one with a tough situation. I have other nurses in similar dilemmas that still manage to show up on time for every shift and stay until the end. Again, I am sorry, but I just cannot accept letting you get away with things other nurses should be fired for, especially when I have a stack of resumes on my desk of people vying for your job."
Nearly choking, Alice took a small shuffle back from the desk. "Are you saying you've been interviewing people for my job?"
Mournfully, Amata nodded. "I need someone I can count on. When you're here, I know I can count on you. But I can't count on you to be here. Do you understand?"
There was nothing left in her to feel indignant because Amata was right. Alice had too freely considered her job. It was something she was good at and loved—even it was exhausting, but is was hers. But now, the only thing that was her own was being ripped way.
Maybe saying it was being ripped away was unfair. Even though Alice felt devastated, she understood it was a business, and she no longer was contributing more than she took.
Realizing that, Alice moved towards the doorway, without taking the pink slip. "I understand, Amata. Just send me an email. I have to find my son."
Alice nearly wrenched off her car door as she entered the front seat. "Cara, I swear to God…this is the third time I've gone to voicemail. Don't act like you're not on your phone all day, especially when you're not at school. Answer me. And again, have you seen your brother?" Alice slammed her phone down. "DAMN IT ALL!" She yelled as loud as possible, the sound reverberating around her car and into her ears and skull.
She wouldn't blame Cara if the girl wasn't picking up her phone if she was actually in school. But the fact her daughter wasn't answering was a major red flag. That girl had been glued to her pink phone ever since the first day. Even if it was her parents, Cara was eager to answer, just to bask in the fact she had her own cell phone.
It was irregular, strange.
And Alice immediately knew, as soon as she hung up the phone, Cara was gone too.
Starting to shake, Alice unbuckled her seatbelt, and like an idiot, began to run her hand between her hand between her seat and the center console, trying to find where she had blindly chucked her phone.
Finally finding it, Alice opened it and dialed a number.
"What's up?" The voice on the other end asked. It was carefree and drawn out.
Alice scoffed to herself. "Seth?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you high?"
"Is this the police?"
"No this is your cousin. Alice."
There was a delayed laugh. "Man, you had me scared for a minute. Man I thought you were the cops. Man. That would've been insane." He talked as fast as a turtle.
Alice swallowed a growl. "Seth," she asked slowly." "Have you heard from either Cara or Noah?"
There was a long pause.
And then the sound of someone inhaling violently.
"When…? Dude."
"Now."
"Uhh…no. Sorry I don't know."
"Thanks, well enjoy being stoned in the middle of the day," Alice responded bitterly.
Immediately Alice dialed another number. She didn't think this person was going to respond but was surprised when they did on the fifth ring.
"Obviously this is important and I don't have a voicemail so—"
"Piper, it's Alice."
"Oh."
"Look I know the last time we met was under strange circumstances—"
"My estranged mother's funeral where my daughter ran away but yeah."
"Oh well I know you found her," Alice repaired.
There was a scoff. "Yeah. After three days. Good times."
Again, Alice felt that awkward silence.
"Look…"
"What do you want?" Piper abruptly asked.
"Cara and Noah are suddenly missing. They're too young to do that on their own. I know I'm not your favorite, but I need your help, if you can."
There were a few seconds of near static, where Alice thought Piper had simply dropped the phone and left her to the fact she didn't want to talk.
"Look I know I'm not your biggest fan but if you know where they are—"
"I'm sorry. I haven't heard anything," Piper responded sincerely. Alice knew she didn't mess around when it came to someone's child.
Alice let out a breath, nearly telling her cousin she had just been fired. Instead, she restrained herself. "Thanks. Please just let me know if you do."
"Sure," Piper offered briefly, before hanging up the phone.
Slamming her phone down into the cup holder, Alice immediately ripped her hair from the sloppy bun and reversed out of the parking lot.
She only lived a few miles away from home, but on a busy day it could take up to a half an hour to get home.
Today, traffic was light and she got home in record time. However, she felt a heaviness in her bones that was unmatched by any tiring day at work.
BREAK
Once Alice got home, her car in the driveway, she tripped out of it, nearly skinning her face on the ground.
There were several red flags.
The first one was the front door partially open. Cara had been home the past few days because her school had been shut down and Alice knew that her daughter never would have left the door open in that circumstance.
There were several other scenarios that came into Alice's mind but she didn't want to think about of any of them.
Brandishing the iron crow bar she kept underneath the passenger seat, Alice slowly crossed the threshold of the house. She called her children's names, even though she knew they weren't there.
Feeling like an aimless, but crazed spirit, Alice made several crazy treks around the house, feeling the loneliness in the house. And she knew.
She was the only one there.
Back at the front door, where her chaotic path had begun, Alice noticed something near the ground she hadn't noticed before. Bending down, Alice squinted and held out her fingers. Swiping at the thing she noticed, she brought the finger up. On the pad of the finger was something yellow and chalky. It had a distinct rotten-egg smell.
Demons
As if suddenly crushed under an avalanche of barbed rocks, Alice crumpled even further at the waist, her hand shooting out to the floor that was coming closer to her. A heavy sense of dread have settled itself around her shoulders like the anchor of a chain, dragging her back down to the depths of the black and blue water.
Breathing becoming shallow, Alice blindly palmed her cell phone once again, fingers moving to the familiar keys. The soft sound of dialing battled with the rushing water.
Dean and Sam had retraced the younger brother's steps. They found themselves face to face with a gas station worker prepared to call the cops, an empty carton of cigarettes, a whole lot of blood, and the slashed neck of a man who turned out to be a hunter.
A neck Sam had slashed. According to the surveillance footage.
And Sam hadn't remembered a damn thing.
And now? They were sitting back in the motel where the older brother had found his younger brother.
Moving from the window, Dean turned and surveyed his distraught brother. "Alright. This is what we're gonna do, okay? We're gonna get a few hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror. Look, I know it's bad, but you gotta snap out of it!"
Incredulous, Sam shifted forward from where he sat on the edge of the bed. "Just get some sleep and leave in the morning? Murder. Dean: that's what I did."
Dean threw his hands up slightly. "Maybe. Okay…maybe…shapeshifter?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh come on. You know it wasn't. You saw the tape. There was no eye flare—nothing."
Dean grew more incensed. "Yeah but it wasn't you, alright? I yeah it might have been you, but it wasn't you."
With hooded eyes, Sam gave a low response. "Well, I think it was. I think maybe more than you know."
Moving to the bed facing Sam, Dean sat down. He wasn't sure what his brother was talking about, considering he was with him nearly 24/7.
"I've been having these feelings," Sam intoned. His voice sounded far way, but the emotion in it was prominent and loud.
Dean stiffened a little. "What feelings?"
Sam looked up with a strange expression. He took a moment to respond. "Rage. Hate. And I can't stop it. Day by day it gets worse. And you know? I like it."
The older brother became more attentive. "You never told me this."
Sam shrugged, almost helpless. "I didn't want to scare you. And besides. You were dealing with Alice and the kids. I didn't want to add more."
The reason Sam hadn't told him was because he was busy. Dean flayed himself for not being available to Alice, the kids, and Sam whenever they needed him. He didn't know how to handle all of it, but it still infuriated him that he hadn't figured it out yet.
"Well, bang-up job on that," Dean snapped, redirecting some of his anger at himself towards his brother.
"Dean," Sam began carefully. "The yellow eyed demon. You know he has plans for me. And other children like me too."
Dean's entire body immediately felt like it was on fire when he caught the leading tone at the end of Sam's phrase. "No! Don't even mention, Noah, Sam. Don't go there. Look, you are not a killer and neither is my son."
Obviously agitated, Sam became more rigid from the irriation. "I try. I try so hard. But Dean, it feels like I'm losing control."
"No one can control you but you," Dean gave as a cop out response.
"It doesn't seem like that. Dean, no matter what it feels like, I'm just becoming..."
"What?" Dean asked.
Sam shrugged, like he didn't know. "I don't know. I just feels like I'm not myself sometimes."
Sniffing to himself, Dean turned and shrugged. "Well maybe you just need to take a nap and relax you know? Douse yourself in some holy water and salt and just soak in it. Huh?"
The older brother's sudden—and evidently callous—rebuff caught Sam off guard.
"That's all you have to say to this?" Sam demanded, finally. "Even after Dad told you you would have to kill me?"
When this question was asked, Dean was turned the other way. At this point, the older brother was in anguish, remembering the moment when John Winchester, on his death bed, had whispered a damning secret into Dean's ear.
It was something that rarely left his mind.
"Look out for your brother. But if you can't, Dean, you have to kill Sammy."
That damn phrase. That fucking phrase was the catalyst for Sam disappearing, and then reappearing. Dean had admitted the secret that had been weighing him down. Sam had reacted how anyone would expect: disbelieving and incredibly hurt that his father would give the command of one child to kill the other. It was sicker than Cain and Abel.
Back to his brother, Dean looked at him over the shoulder. "I know you man. I know you're not evil."
Sam shook his head, mirthlessly. Dean wasn't listening. He never did. "But how could Dad say that without a reason? Can you imagine a scenario where you would have to tell Cara to kill Noah—"
Dean was suddenly up, invading Sam's space. "Samuel, I swear to God you mention them one more time…"
Sam hung his head, looking ashamed. "Sorry. But Dean, Dad was obviously right. I mean, I slit that man's throat in cold blood. You saw the video."
Once again a stone wall, Dean walked the length of the room. "Like you said, it wasn't you man."
A tear was hanging loose from Sam's eye but was determined not to fall. Sam reached behind him and pulled his camo green duffle to the edge of the bed. His hand disappeared into the unzipped back and emerged a few seconds later, hands clenched around a silver handgun. With the barrel side down, Sam held it out to his brother. "I can't fight this forever. Here. Take the gun. You gotta do it."
Dean stared at the gun clenched tightly. It was clenched in the hand of the younger brother he was supposed to kill. How could his father make Dean spend his entire life protecting Sam just to have Dean kill him in the end?
"You know…I've tried so hard to keep you safe," Dean intoned.
Sam nodded. "I know."
Shoulders dropping, Dean shrugged. "I can't. I'd rather die."
A corner of Sam's lip twitched. "What if I did something even worse than what I've already done?"
Dean frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You said not to mention them. But what if I'm the biggest threat to those kids? Dean, the idea that I could do something to them…I can't even live with myself thinking about the possibility. Dean, you have to."
"Sammy…" Dean was watching his brother tensely, with a warning tone in his voice. He almost couldn't even believe Sam would threaten his niece and nephew and yet there he was.
Sam was now standing, holding the gun even closer to Dean. "What if I did something to Alice? Huh? What if I slit her throat like I did to that hunter?"
Again—same as before—Dean was in Sam's face. Only this time, he had him pinned to a wall.
From where he rested against the painted wall, Sam knew Dean hadn't had any control when he had done that. For, after a moment, Dean's eyes cleared and he stepped away, realizing he had pinned his little brother to the wall. And if he was guilty about that, how could he kill his brother?
"Do. Not. Say. That." The message of Dean's words were clear and crisp.
"What if Dad was told you was true? I'm dangerous. I'll hurt them"
"SHUT UP!" Dean yelled.
"THEN KILL ME!' Sam exclaimed, at the same volume.
Dean's head shook from the noise for a millisecond before he responded in a quiet voice. "No. I won't." He let Sam go.
Eyes going dark, Sam suddenly lowered his chin, sending strange shadows across his face. "Fine. Then you'll die too."
Before Dean could even process the words, Sam moved as quick as a flash of lightning. With the shiny barrel of the gun raised in his hand, he darted forward and pistol-whipped Dean across the temple.
There was a crack and Dean fell to the floor with a heavy thud, silence as Sam grabbed his duffle and left the room.
A switch turned on, and Dean threw his torso upwards. Blinking furiously as the spinning room came back into focus, he had been awakened by an annoying and particularly shrill chirping sound. Groping around for the source of the noise, it was not unlike waking up with a ferocious hangover.
Did I get drunk? Dean thought as he scrambled to put the last few hours together.
Fragments of reasoning continued to float around Dean's head, staying separated until he realized the tinnying was the sound of his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. Dean pressed the talk button.
"Demons, Dean. Sam missing? Demons. The kids missing? Demons. It's always demons."
"Demons? What? What are you talking about?" Dean asked as he propped himself up on one elbow, cradling his head with one hand. Even if he didn't have a killer headache, her rambling speech wouldn't have made much sense.
"Do you hear what I'm saying? The kids are gone! Noah disappeared from school and I came home to find the front door wide open and both of them gone. I found sulfur by the front door. If something else happens to them, I don't know what I'll do. I don't know how much more of this I can take." Her voice sounded strange. It was like a thin strand that had been pulled taut on both ends—about to snap in half.
"Allie, what's happening?" Dean clarified. Now, he was working on standing up.
That caused the proverbial string to snap. "What is wrong with you? Your children? Cara and Noah? They're gone. Demons took them!"
BREAK
When Cara awoke from her state of unconsciousness, she found her wrists and ankles bound to a wooden kitchen chair. She pulled at the restraints a few times before noticing where she had been taken.
Looking around in dawning horror, Cara recognized the concrete floor, and the window with a piece of yellowing paper over it.
She was in her Aunt Jan's garage.
The last time she had been there? Was when she was possessed, where their entire family had almost died, and where Aunt Jan had actually died.
"No. No," Cara muttered to herself, beginning to pull again at the ropes. Her fingers twisted uselessly, trying to reach for the knots that were well placed, far above her wrists.
"Relax. There's no point in trying to get out of it."
Eyes flicking up the source of the voice, Cara noticed her brother in the corner. He leaned up against the wall on one side, and was still holding a baseball in one of his hands. He examined it, unimpressed.
"Noah? What's going on? What the hell did you do?"
Holding up the hand with the ball it in, he let it fall, keeping the palm open, indicating Cara should stop talking. Finally, he looked at his sister. "Come on sis, I didn't think you were stupid."
Shutting her mouth, Cara thought for a moment. She knew something was off. From the minute she had seen Noah standing in the front yard, there was the gut feeling that something was wrong.
"You're not Noah, are you?" She finally asked, carefully.
The creature smiled, with a smirk that was a little too similar to Noah's. "Right."
For a moment she wondered that maybe it was him…
But then she refocused on his eyes and couldn't believe she thought that it could've been her brother.
"What are you?"
"You know me."
Cara frowned in puzzlement. Her eyebrows moved frantically upwards as she realized with dawning horror. "Murmur?" Her voice suddenly sounded hoarse.
Now revealed, Murmur confirmed by flashing his black eyes. "It's me."
The ropes binding Cara to the chair suddenly felt like they were magma. She remembered the feeling of being possessed. It was like she was being held under a heavy, wet, woolen blanket in the heat of summer, abandoned in the Sahara. The worst feeling had been the inability to escape or do anything to fight it. The utter helplessness she had felt was being possessed was now similar to watching her brother hijacked by a monster.
"How did you get into him?" She demanded.
"You think a stupid, little anti-possession charm could keep something like me at bay? I've been around since as long as Lucifer fell."
It was almost comical how pretentious this demon was. After their initial possession, Cara had read up on demonology and remembered reading about this particular bastard. He was old—that was true. Murmur had also been known as "the conjurer", able to summon dead souls, and tell them anything they wanted to know. His knowledge was deep, but evidently not as wide as his pompousness.
"Then how come a stupid, little prayer can?"
There had been so many times when Cara wished she were as smart as her mouth.
Swelling in rage, the demon stalked forward and gave Cara a sharp, warning slap across the cheek.
After the slap, the demon grabbed Cara's jaw and turned her head to observe the damage. The red mark on the girl's cheek only gave the demon a small sense of solace. Cara's sarcasm was something that Murmur had little patience for. He was here to do a job, after all. "Watch how you speak to me or your tongue will be next."
Yanking her head away, Cara ran her tongue on the inside of her cheek, feeling the stinging. A few tears had formed on the eye of the same side, just from the sensation of the slap.
For several moments, Cara slowly plucked up the courage and common sense to say something that wouldn't cause the demon to fly off the handles. It also gave her a chance to concoct some ways to get herself and Noah out of here, unharmed.
Her limited choices flashed through her mind.
Trying to subtly get out of the ropes would be the first choice. However, her hands were tied to the arms of the chair, and Cara knew she had no weapons on her. She could try to twist her wrists back and forth to try to and loosen the ropes, but this would be too obvious and really only succeed in giving her rope burn.
Another option was to try and exorcise the demon. While Cara knew the gist of Maniglia's Prayer, she didn't have it completely memorized. And this may deter the demon, but not get him out of Noah. Again, the end result of this would be majorly pissing off the demon, and risk causing harm to herself and her brother. And like he had threatened, Cara was quite fond of her tongue and preferred that it stayed inside her mouth.
Lastly, the most logical choice was to stall the demon. Maybe if Cara could keep him talking long enough them maybe someone would figure out they were missing, where they were, and save them at the eleventh hour. Of course, this plan relied on a lot of what ifs, but it was by far the best one Cara had.
Also…Cara had some questions she wanted to ask this monster.
A little while later, Cara had finally plucked up the courage to ask the demon some of the things she was wondering "What are you gonna do with me?"
Turning to look at her, the demon narrowed his eyes, deciding if he was going to become angry with her. "You'll find out soon enough."
"Are you gonna kill me?"
Oh, the demon sure wanted to. "Not yet."
Well...that wasn't very reassuring. "Well you might as well just do it now and get it over with." Before she could think, the words laced with defensive sarcasm and fear leaked out. Cara held her breath, and waiting for the demon to sock her across the face.
However, this time Murmur was able to keep himself composed. "Oh you have no idea how badly I want to. However, we have to wait."
"For what?"
"A few things. You'll see in time."
"What did you do to me at the house?"
Murmur crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders. "You may want to be more specific."
"The-the...sound in my head. It was like a train or I don't know. It was a rushing sound. I just remember it go so painful and then everything just stopped. What was that?"
"Oh that? I didn't do that. It was all Noah."
There was something eerie about the demon calling Noah by his name. It was like Murmur was just mentioning an old friend.
Cara hated it.
"What do you mean it was Noah?"
"You know how your Uncle Sammy is a psychic turned spoon-bender?"
Cara nodded, acid rising in her throat.
"Well, it seems like something similar is happening to your baby brother. His...let's call them auditory visions...turned into something else too."
"He can make someone else hear things in their head?"
Murmur nodded. "As much as I dislike you, I have to admit, you do catch on quick."
"And all of those powers have something to do with the yellow eyed demon." It felt like a sin to say those words out loud. However, deep in her bones Cara knew both Uncle Sam and Noah were somehow tied to the demon-as vehemently as both of her parents denied that Noah had anything to do with the monster that had stalked and plagued their family for decades, Cara knew they were all connected.
The nod continued. "Your little brother here doesn't want to believe it. But he knows it's true."
"Noah…" Cara began, forgetting for a moment that wasn't Noah. But she knew. She knew he could hear her. "It's okay."
Murmur gave a smirk at that. He could feel Noah pounding against the inside of his own head-it sounding like a light tapping. Maybe Noah could hear Cara, but Murmur made she the boy had no choice but to watch helplessly.
Knowing how it had felt to be stuffed inside her own head, Cara felt a tear escape. This time, it wasn't from the intensity of the slap. "Don't hurt him."
"He's not the one you should be worried about," Murmur replied. "Your little brother here is perfectly safe. Big plans. We have big plans for him."
A shiver rolled through Cara. She had heard about the plans. But that was the one thing no one had any idea about? What did that mean?
"What plans?"
"You know," Murmur hopped up onto the work bench. He had retrieved the baseball and was rolling it under his hand, along the wooden surface he sat upon. "We all have a purpose in life."
Cara frowned. "What?"
"Everyone's life means something."
That was ironic, coming from a demon.
"You're dead. Your life is over," Cara deadpanned.
Murmur couldn't deny that. "But I'm still here. In my existence, my mortal life was but a blip."
From all the demon literature Cara had read, the part that bothered her was the fact that all demons were people. Once like her. One like anyone that had ever walked the earth.
"How did you become a demon? What did you do that made you go to Hell?" Cara asked, the insistence in her voice raising.
Lip flipping up in disgust, the demon felt caught off guard. As much as this little girl annoyed him, she still managed to pull things out of thin air.
"Someone's been doing some reading."
Cara shrugged as much as she could. "I read that all demons were once people. What has to happen for someone to become that?"
"Hell."
"Just Hell?" She almost cringed, using the word. If her mom was there, then Alice surely would've chastised Cara for saying it.
But now? It was only Cara and some monster living in her brother.
"Just Hell?" The demon sounded indignant.
Murmur strode forward. "Oh just Hell?
"Does everyone become a demon in Hell?" Cara asked
"Not everyone. Some people's souls just become too tarnished beyond repair, too thin to hold anything but pain. The really corrupted ones though—they become demons. I bet when your uncle and brother here will when they go downstairs."
That chilled Cara's bones. "Noah is not going to Hell." He was too good. It was implausible.
Murmur took pleasure in that. "Well as of right now, no. I doubt he'd be now. But give him awhile. Give him some time to flourish and really do some sick, twisted things. After that, we'll see."
"I won't let you hurt him," Cara vowed, her voice low and threatening. Some of the fear she had for herself and the situation had been shifted to worry for her brother. Although she was physically restrained, she knew he was just as captive as her.
They were both trapped.
And the only thing she could do was let Noah know it wasn't alone.
"That's cute, Cara. But your threats are pointless. Obviously—" Murmur gestured around them "—there's nothing you can do."
"Noah, listen to me: it's okay. We're gonna get out of this. Somehow, we will. I'm not gonna leave you alone. And if something does happen, I'll stay with you. Okay?" A steady stream of tears were pouring from Cara's eyes at this point. The helpless feeling of being possessed was bubbling back up. She now knew why her parents had been so horrified: watching a familiar face act like a monster was heartbreaking.
She continued to talking, not only trying to soothe him, but herself. "Mom and Dad will find us. You know they will. Dad's gonna walk in here guns blazing and Mom's gonna blow that demonic smoke right out of you. You know they will." Her voice hitched as she said the words. She remembered the hunt they went on where Cara had nearly drowned and her parents were MIA. She never thought they wouldn't be there for her, and when they weren't, it forced Cara back in time. Right after she and Noah had nearly drowned the first time, she remembered their father telling them about how they really couldn't count on anyone but themselves—not even their parents.
It was a lesson that seemed foreign to Cara at the time. But now, she understood why her father had told them that.
Still…it didn't make Cara want her mom and dad any less.
Right now? She needed them. She didn't know how much longer she could hold herself together. But she knew she had to, for Noah's sake.
Coming to stand square in front of Cara, he bent his knees so his eyes were parallel with hers. The blue pupils turned black and Cara couldn't look away from the voids.
"You still have so much innocence. I would've thought for sure Phenex would break you. She's usually good at that—has a lot of bitterness. But then again…I see you do too."
"What are you talking about?" Cara asked.
"All that resentment…your victim complex."
Cara's brow furrowed, as she didn't know how to respond.
Murmur rolled his eyes. Perhaps she was only so smart. "I'm talking about your agitated, angsty little mind."
"I don't know what—"
"You know what I'm talking about. Your brain is a surly little storm cloud. Always has been. You were a difficult, suspicious toddler. You were a bratty child, and now you're turning into a pain-in-the-ass teenager.
"You're just a miserable person, Cara. You were born one.
"And I can tell you you're going to die one."
Perhaps it was something Cara was always unconsciously aware of, but had never put a name to. She was a fussy baby and a not-particularly happy elementary schooler. To her, it just seemed like she was always waiting for something better. And that something better would come in on her next birthday…the next grade…the next month. But things never seemed to live up to her standards. She figured it was her. There was nothing wrong with anything else. It was always her.
She was the one with the problem.
Watching Cara's quickly changing gaze, the demon settled for a pleased smirk. Murmur knew that would be the knife in the side. "At your core, you're nothing more than a tiny, dark speck. That's all you are."
It almost seemed ridiculous that tears were beginning to escape from her eyes. It seemed like nothing the demon said wasn't something she didn't already innately know. And sure, as a little brother, Noah had told her some things that set her back on her heels. But this…it was like Noah was the one telling her things, even though the rational part of her brain knew it wasn't him.
But…those words pierced her deep and her rational brain was flying out the window. "That's not true," Cara muttered, her voice cracking at the end.
Even smug than he already was, Murmur crossed him arms. "It is. You know it is. Why do you think Mom and Dad prefer me to you anyways? It's cause they can't stand to be around you. You were the curse they never wanted. And as for me? You're like an annoying shadow that won't go away. My personal little raincloud I can't get away from."
Cara gave a sharp gasp, forgetting for a moment that was a demon and not her brother. "Don't lie to me."
Settling for an expression that said "poor you", Murmur clucked his tongue and reached forward, patting Cara's cheek in a patronizingly comforting fashion.
She jerked her head away as far as it was go. "Don't touch me."
"Oh Cara," Murmur intoned, pulling the hand away. "I wouldn't lie to you. Not when I'm about to kill you."
"Demons lie."
Murmur rolled his eyes. "How many of those canned phrases do you have from Dad anyways? What's the point of me lying? In this case, the truth hurts more than any lie I could conjure up."
"What truth?" What could be worse than anything he had already said?
"Oh Cara," Murmur repeated, the cadence different, like she didn't understand the punchline to a joke.
"What?"
Murmur just shook his head and chuckled.
"What? Are you gonna tell me or are you just messing with me?!" Cara's voice raised in volume and emotion. She pulled against the restraints keeping her to the chair.
Seeing as she was primed and emotional, Murmur tilted his head to the door. "I suppose I could tell you. They'll be here soon."
It didn't even register in her mind who 'they' could've been. All she cared about was this truth that apparently Murmur knew.
"Tell me." Her voice was a tight whisper.
Murmur picked up another baseball and batted it around in his hands a few times. "Okay. Are you ready for the Big One?"
The Big One? "Stop being dramatic and tell me already!" The emotion was careening in anger now.
"It is the Big One. Because it's the truth about your whole life. It explains your entire pathetic existence."
Cara glared at the demon with shiny eyes, but remained silent.
Murmur began pacing in front of Cara, spinning his tale, like a spider and silvery web. "We have to go back to where this all began. Broken Bow. Before my time. Just at the beginning of yours.
"See…when Mom found out she was pregnant with you, she didn't know what to do. After all, you were a mistake."
Cara flared up in hurt and irritation. "First of all, don't call her 'Mom', she's not your mom. Second of all, I know I wasn't planned. They were teenagers when they had me. I'm not an idiot."
"Again with the self-righteous anger. Either shut up so I can tell the story or I will shut you up."
Huffing, Cara leaned back, wisely keeping her mouth shut.
"As I was saying, Mom found out she was pregnant with you and didn't know what to do. See, you know her parents were Jesus-loving freaks that thought Halloween was the Devil's birthday and the commercialization of Christmas was the first sign of the apocalypse…anyways. Obviously, to them, having a baby out of wedlock was like carrying the antichrist, which you pretty much are to them, in case you were wondering.
"Dad had gotten the hell out of that sad little town and Mom was spiraling. She was carrying this parasite inside of her and couldn't tell anyone. Her entire life became this trainwreck in slow motion, thanks to you.
"So one day, when things had gotten so, so bad, she decided something. On that morning, instead of going to school, dear old Mom went to a river."
Murmur paused and glanced at the young girl. She stared with glassy eyes and a slack jaw. She was the snake and he was the snake charmer, completely entranced.
The demon continued.
"You see, Mom got into the river, and fully clothed, she waded to the middle of it. She heard the sound of rushing water in her ears, legs burning from the iciness of the temperature. And in the middle of that river, she got down on both knees, like she was praying. She had a hand over her growing stomach—over you. But instead of praying, she cursed you. She cursed you for existing and ruining her life. She cursed you for having to do what she was going to do.
"See, Cara, Mom was gonna kill herself because she couldn't live in a world where even the idea of you existed."
There it was. The Big One.
The thing that planted harmlessly in Cara's chest, like pollen on a blade of grass.
Murmur paused again and watched in sadistic fascination. Cara had heard the words, now the little phrase was beeping, the same way a bomb did before the shrapnel went flying.
A few more tiny beeps, and the little thing suddenly detonated with the ferocity of an atom bomb. Suddenly, Cara's entire body reacted. Her back arched, head thrown back. Her limbs twisted and her bound hands clawed at the edge of the armrests. All of this was accompanied by a large inhale of breath, which then became lodged in her throat, refusing to leave.
And finally, when it seemed like Cara was going to pass out the breath escape with a single, pitiful sob. "You're lying," Cara said, through shallow, frenetic breaths.
"Why do you think Mom's so afraid of water? It all makes sense you know. All of it. The reason no one can stand you, not even your own family. Your own mother cursed you when she was trying to take your own life. And instead of succeeding, you've been here, like a tumor that just keeps growing."
Cara's entire body was shaking, as if she was feeling the effects of being in the middle of the river. The ropes securing her to the chair were the only things that were preventing her from sliding to the floor like a sopping wet leaf.
As if on cue, Murmur pointed to the door, which burst open. Emerging into the garage, Sam grunted as he dragged a bound and unconscious Bobby behind him.
Cara's eyes grew wide at the scene. "Uncle Sam? What are…" She stopped herself when he looked at her with black eyes and a feline-like smile.
"I see you told her, Murmur?"
Murmur nodded. "Now we can start to have some real fun."
In a rehearsed motion, Murmur grabbed Cara's pink flip phone that sat on the table. He flipped it open and pressed a number on speed dial. He face scrunched up in fear. "Mom? Help us! We're at Aunt Jan's and—" Abruptly, the demon pressed the end button and chucked the phone clear across the room.
The demon possessing Sam nodded and he began pulling Bobby up onto another chair. "Now that the trap is set, all we have to do is wait."
"You think Dad is gonna fall for something like that?" Cara demanded, almost robotically. Her voice sound slushed. There were so many emotions colliding around in her skull, she didn't know how to act like a normal functioning human anymore.
"Another empty promise from Dad. That he'd always be there to protect us." Murmur picked up a baseball. "And you know what? I've had enough of you talking. Nighty night."
With incredible speed, Murmur flung back the baseball, and threw it, a white blur cracking against Cara's temple, making everything go black.
The Impala careened to a halt in front of the oak-lined street. There were brownstones on either side of the quiet street.
Everything was still and quiet. And Dean recognized the white bumper of Alice's car, several inches away from the front of the black Impala.
The waist-high gate shrieked loudly and Dean shoved right through it. The wrought iron stakes that had been in the ground gyrated in response, as if wishing they were free from the soil. After all, those stakes and that sound wasn't something Dean had heard for a very long time. He had always gone through the alley. But something had stopped him and made him go through the front gate. He didn't know what it was. He really didn't, because Alice had called him in a panic and told him to get to the late Janet Sutton's house, upon hearing Noah calling in fear—they both knew it was a demon. From that, both parents had floored it from their prospective locations. Alice was closer, but Dean was hoping he could drive faster. But upon seeing her car parked, he knew he was late.
Once Dean had cleared the house, he found himself outside, staring at the garage situated in the corner of the square yard. There was a fresh piece of paper that was placed over the tiny window. There was a tiny red speck on the corner of the paper.
Bursting through the door, visual and auditory chaos hit Dean like a wave of heat.
Alice and Bobby were crowded up in different corners of the room. Sam and Noah were standing in a devil's trap that Seth had newly painted on the ceiling out of a weekend of boredom. They nipped at the edge of the outline the rabid dogs.
"What the hell is going on?" Dean asked, voice raising over the shouting.
From behind the tool shelf, Cara emerged and tumbled into her father. Dean righted her, noticing a red welt on the side of her head. Immediately wrapping an arm around her, he asked what was wrong.
"I don't wanna be in here anymore."
Looking up again, Dean turned his attention to Bobby and Alice. "What the hell is going on?"
Bobby waved his hand, indicating he was aware of Dean's presence. Not bothering to turn, Bobby showered Sam and Noah with a mixture of holy water and salt. "They're both possessed. Get Cara out of here. We have this locked down." The old man waved his hand and both demons reacted with veracity, teeth wide, claws raised. Dean could barely believe it was his little brother and child. But again, like he hadn't seen this at least once before.
Dean spent several seconds staring at his brother and son. Noah had been possessed before and he had nearly died. Sam was apparently had bad blood. And at this point, knowing those things would've made him stop in his tracks. But just knowing how those things interacted really chilled his blood.
Sam had never been possessed before. Noah had. And even that time compared to now…Dean had never seen his son so rabid. At the state of the boy, it was hard to Dean believe at his son. Still, the burning anger for the demon and paralyzing fear for Noah were both there.
With Cara still clinging to him, Dean lurched forward, towards Noah.
"Dean what are you doing?! Go! Cara!" Bobby yelled. While he did, Alice was busy yelling holy names in various languages.
But in that moment, Dean heard the sound of "Dad? Please?"
The facts were: his brother and son were possessed. They were contained for now. They were contained by a trusted hunter and the mother of his children. Alice was with one of their children—who was possessed. But that mother of those children was basically telling him to leave. The only loose end was the daughter clinging onto him for dear life.
Cara had a strange look on her face; there was an internal locus that had made it unable for her to simply walk out of the garage.
Suddenly animating, Dean grabbed his daughter around the waist and hoisted her out of the space. The garage door was opened ferociously and slammed shut, almost as angrily as it had been opened.
Stumbling back to gravity, Dean was on his knees, reseting Cara as she tried to stand. He didn't know what was going on and pulled Cara into a tight hug, instinctively.
As soon as her feet hit the grass, and the thick, hot air of the garage wasn't passing through her nostrils, some of the gears in her head re-erected themselves. That was when Cara felt a constriction around herself.
She retaliated.
"Stop. Stop," Cara demanded, taking several steps away.
She was almost frowning. Her mouth stayed the same size but her upper body was expanding and constricting rapidly. Her hands in front of her were twisting in strange ways—lengthening and then contracting. There was no control in the movements, and Dean was unsure of what to do.
Even after a single step, a hyperventilating Cara had grabbed her father by the arms. She looked at him in the eyes. "Do you love me?" Her question was almost careless.
Dean almost wanted to retract from the response. "What? Of course I do."
Pulling away, Cara turned and gave a grimace. "Yeah cause instead of just Mom you got me too."
Dean reacted instinctively and tugged Cara's chin back to his face. "I loved you as soon as I saw you. When doesn't matter."
Jerking her chin away, Cara walked towards the backdoor. She didn't want to go into the house but sure as hell wouldn't be going back in the garage. Instead, she plopped down on the grass and glared at her father.
"It's all Mom's fault," Cara muttered, sitting on the most minimal step of the back door.
Dean had not heard her. He was there, kneeling on the grass in front of her, but his head was craned towards the garage.
Breathing in, Cara flopped back on the back step of the house, her palms saving herself from the potential "rug burn" of the stone.
As soon as her hands slammed against the stone, an equally opposite reaction, rooted in her stomach, nearly pitched her body forward. She felt acid in her throat and clench her hands around the edge of the stone step. She held her breath, waiting for the acid to pass her lips.
But it never came.
And then immediately after the force, she was heaving for air—like a man in a desert—wishing for a drop of water.
Cara was wishing for a drop safety.
At this point, Dean was still in front of his daughter, but he had not noticed her internal shift. To the outside world, it appeared that nothing had happened.
However, Cara did not know the rockslide inside herself was invisible to others.
Realizing her father had not been watching, Cara spasmed in anger. Her entire body was heaving. She both hated and relished it.
It was a strange combination she'd never felt before.
When Cara heaved herself up from the step, Dean finally turned towards her. "What are you doing?" He asked.
Nearly tripping over the steps, Cara's hand felt for the back door. "I'm going inside." Did she want to?
No.
But she certainly didn't want to stay in view of the garage any longer.
Standing, Dean reached a hand towards Cara. "Just wait—"
Dodging his grip, Cara half stepped into the house. "I'll be fine. I'll draw a circle of salt around myself if you want."
He didn't seem convinced.
"Dad, I can't go back in there. I don't even want to see it anymore."
Hand dropping, Dean nodded. "Don't leave the house." He raised his eyebrows. "I mean it."
"Yeah."
The door slammed shut.
Alone in the house, Cara had vague flashes to an earlier, more innocent time in her life. And even though it had been innocent, the edges had still been tinted in darkness.
Moving slightly forward into the kitchen, Cara appeared at the counter. Her hands hovered above the tile before placing themselves on the cool surface.
It was the surface, the same place where she promised Aunt Jan she wouldn't do something stupid in the middle of the night.
Sighing heavily, Cara found her gaze at the kitchen sink.
The silver faucet was lazily letting a drip of water out about every ten seconds. Everything around the sink was untouched.
One think that Cara noticed were two mugs that sat on the edge of the sink.
They appeared untouched, but ready to be cleaned.
Feeling a collection of tears pooling in her eyes, for many different reasons, Cara pulled back a stool and took a seat and the countertop, where she had sat many times.
Her gaze remained fixated on those mugs. One was yellow and floral, while the other had a crude phrase that said "Fresh out of Fucks". For some reason, Cara hadn't remembered ever seeing that mug when she was younger, but she knew it had always been there.
Remembering back to that night—the one in the kitchen with Aunt Jan—both Jan and Cara tightly clenched mugs to themselves. It was more of the middle of the night, Cara supposed, but still dark, so still night. Regardless, Cara remembered that ugly mug in her forefront that night.
She remembered gripping a white porcelain mug with no apparent inscription. But perhaps, when she had tilted up the cup maybe there was a scrawl of black calligraphy she couldn't read from upside down.
But now, Cara fancied she was fresh out of fucks.
First of all, sorry for the cliffhanger—this chapter is not over. I will address it in my response at the bottom.
I want to start by saying I am so honored by everyone who has read, favorited, followed, reviewed, or read my story. I will admit I have lost motivation here and there. I am now in my second year of graduate school. And—I will not lie—I had a slight existential crisis by the end of it.
Also, I know I have not updated since December, and I want to apologize to everyone. I know what it's like to wait for months for a story.
So for some things I have been thinking about for a while:
I have been working on this story starting when I was 19. Now I'm 22. That really isn't a big leap in the scheme of things, but it has basically taken me over three years to give you guys a scrap of what I have planned. Ideally, I would like to post a descriptive story for each chapter, but, I just don't have that energy or time.
For the reason I have not posted in so long, I may have not shared many things about myself but I feel you deserve an explanation. I have always dealt with anxiety and depression, but graduate school has really exasperated those aspects and dampened my desire to write. I guess I still have the desire to create, but it's hard when you actually have to sit down and type out a story, which is why the last half of this chapter has been so hard.
So, now, I would really like to hear from you guys about what you want.
Do you want long or shorter chapters? Like this chapter, it's still not the entire thing but it's been months since I've given you guys something. Let me know.
Also, I have ideas until the end of the entire series but I will change based upon what I write. This is fanfic, so if you suggest me something you want to see and it's something reasonable, I want to try to work it into the story.
Honestly, if anyone wants to be a beta to check my syntax and macrostructure of my story, I would appreciate it.
Anyone who takes the time to review I appreciate.
All the apologies and love in the world
V.