Fortress - Section Six
Aug. 10th, 2010 04:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Chapter Sixteen:
It’s alright forty days of rain
My skin stretched out from the growing pain
And it’d be nice to have an explanation
But it’s alright
~It’s Alright, Indigo Girls
“Missouri? Seriously, Sam?” Dean asked again, dubiously.
It was the third time in the last hour, and Sam was getting annoyed. He had slept most of the day
At least the demon was currently watching the road; he seemed to have an unbearable compulsion to want to look at Sam while speaking.
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Dean! I don’t know that many psychics and I’m not making any progress on my own. I have no idea how to ‘listen to the World,’ do you?”
“It’s only been a day, and it’s not like you were at your best.”
Sam gave his brother a suspicious look. “You keep pushing and getting upset that we don’t have a concrete direction, so now we know how to get one, and you want to… what? Hole up in a bar somewhere and hope we get lucky?”
“Hey, if I hole up in a bar to get lucky, there’s no ‘hope’ about it.” Dean sounded offended at idea.
“Dean! Eyes on the road!”
“Its straight, Sam. We’re in freaking Kansas. I think I can glance aside occasionally and still not put us in a ditch.”
“If you do put us in a ditch, you won’t be the one breathing through a tube,” Sam ground out. “I’m not as easy to repair.”
“Bets?”
Sam gave him a wary look. “Whatever. Look, Missouri is really the only psychic I know. She knows about hunting, she knew Dad, and she can probably give me some pointers on whatever the hell I’m supposed to be doing. Plus, Dad trusted her, so I’m kinda inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt. You seriously would rather wander in aimless circles for a few more days, hoping I might be struck with some sudden inspiration? What exactly is the problem here?”
“I just don’t like it. Why can’t we call Bobby and see if he knows anyone?”
“Because we’re right here, Dean! Missouri isn’t even two more hours away. And I think we might be straining Bobby enough as it is, you know? Let’s give him a little more time before we hit him up for any more favors, if possible.”
“Fine,” Dean groused. “We’ll do it your way.”
“Hey, none of this is my way,” Sam said pointedly.
“You’d rather be on your knees at Lilith’s feet. Or better, wrapped up with Ruby on a cot somewhere, waiting until they need you to open the damn door and then you can just share your skin with Lucifer until he’s gotten bored with the planetary roast and moves on to bigger and better things. Would that be your way, Sam?”
“Screw you.”
“Not for a couple of weeks. Unless you want to go sooner?”
Sam glowered but refrained from continuing a debate with no high ground.
It was a very long two hours to Lawrence.
~~~~~~~
Missouri was standing on her front porch when the Impala rolled to a stop at the curb in front of her house. Sam opened the door and swung his feet out, but hesitated when he didn’t hear the other door open.
“Dean?”
“Yeah, Sam?”
“Uh, doors work better if you open them. You know, with the whole ‘getting out of the car’ thing.’”
“Thanks, Sam. And all this time I’ve wondered what I was doing wrong.”
“Okay, seriously, dude. What’s going on?”
“I think I’ll just wait here for you.”
“What?”
“There isn’t anything I need to talk to her about; you go on in and see if she’s feeling chatty. I’ll be here napping.”
“Napping,” Sam repeated skeptically.
“Or whatever.” Dean’s smile was disarming. “See if I can’t get a feel for any local trouble spots. You might want to hurry, though, Sam; she’s not looking too happy to see us. Might call the cops any second.”
Sam wanted to snap back about the likelihood of that happening, but he glanced at the porch and had to admit she didn’t look especially pleased. He climbed out and closed his door with more force than necessary, ignoring the offended yelp from inside, and headed for the stairs.
It wasn’t that he really wanted to inflict Dean on Missouri; it was just weird that he was so willing to let Sam go off alone after practically clinging to his hip for the previous months. Sam had even gone to the men’s room at a restaurant the other day and walked out to find Dean leaning against the wall, waiting for him. But the demon clearly didn’t intend to tell him a damn thing about it, so he shoved the mystery aside for the moment and focused on the unsmiling black woman waiting for him at the top of the stairs.
“Sam Winchester, as I live and breathe, and here I thought all you Winchester men shuffled off this mortal coil years ago.”
“Hey, Missouri.” He was more than a foot taller than her, but felt dwarfed by her personality. “No, uh, Dean and I are still around.”
“Dean, huh.” She looked out towards the car, and if anything, the expression on her normally welcoming face got even grimmer. “That what you think is sitting in that car?”
“I know he’s… different, Missouri. But we really need your help. I would never have brought him here otherwise.”
“I’ll hear you out, Sam, for your parents’ sake if nothing else, but if I don’t like what you have to say, we’re done. Understand?”
“I do; thanks, Missouri.”
She nodded grudgingly and opened the screen door for him.
“So,” Sam asked awkwardly, once she had him seated in her kitchen with the lemonade she had insisted on pouring. “You looked like you were waiting for us. How did you know we were coming?”
She snorted and sat down across from him. “I felt that thing in my driveway coming from a good hundred miles away. I’d have to be ten years dead to miss that. Can’t say I was terribly surprised to find you with it; your family has always attracted the worst kinds of trouble.”
“Can’t argue with that, but I’ve never heard of anyone being that sensitive to demons. Would have come in handy a few times in my life.”
“Demons?” She raised a brow.
“Like, Dean. You said you felt him from a hundred miles away,” Sam frowned.
“Honey, I think you need to start this story over from the beginning.”
~~~~~~~
He had glossed over some of the more detailed aspects of the blood-curse, though from the look Missouri had given him during that part she didn’t need him to fill in the details anyways, and about an hour and a half later, Missouri had the gist of the problem. They had moved into the family room for comfort some time earlier, and it did not escape Sam that from her chair, Missouri had a good, clear view of the Impala.
“So, what do you think?” he finally asked her.
“I think you and Dean have your work cut out for you.”
“That’s it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what all you want me to say, Sam. It’s a right mess you’re in the middle of, but it’s hard to escape these kinds of forces. You’ve made some bad decisions, but you did the best you could with the information you had. Dean, too, it sounds like. I’m still not happy to have him out in front of my house like a looming cloud of disaster, but I understand why you’ve come.”
“You aren’t surprised by what he said about Heaven and Hell and stuff?”
“No, but I’m a little surprised that you are. Christianity has a long way to go before it counts as an old religion; it isn’t close to being the most popular one, even today. I’m not saying any of the others are more accurate, but they are all just vehicles to help humans understand what isn’t truly understandable.”
“Angels are real, Missouri. I saw one in my motel room.”
“I think you will find that most religions have angels, or something like angels, somewhere in their belief system. And things to say about demons, too. And I wouldn’t be advertising that about the motel room, Sam,” she chided, “people will think you’re touched.”
Sam gave a wry smile. “So you’ll help me?”
“There isn’t much I can do to help you. It’s not something I can fix. We can talk some about it, and I can show you some meditations, but opening yourself up like you want… it’s dangerous and difficult.”
“You don’t think I can do it.”
“If you were starting from scratch? No, I think it would take you years to learn to do what you’re after. But your gift has never really been repressed, just… misaimed. That damn demon wrenched you good and open when you were just a babe. Probably a good thing he did direct it a little, all things being fair. No telling what you might have been subjected to, otherwise. As it is, this isn’t like having to put the TV together from parts using only chewing gum and directions written in Chinese, more like just kicking the box a little until the picture clears.”
“If it’s that easy, I would have thought it would have happened on its own by now.”
Missouri snorted. “Kicking the box may not be that hard, but you have to know what it looks like first. Fortunately, you do know, you’ve just been trained to see it as something else.”
“Trained?”
Missouri sipped at her drink and just looked at him.
“You mean with Ruby. Using the demon power, because it replaces my own power, it comes from the same place?”
“Your Daddy always said you were a bright one.”
“But how do I use that to… invite visions of the spell? The only thing Ruby ever taught me was to exorcise demons. How is that the same?”
“They aren’t, but you know what that power feels like in your mind, and in your body. How to find it and feel its shape. Just instead of those focused streams of power, you want it to feel… more scattered, to wear it around your skin like an aura, and infuse it with what you want.”
Sam looked baffled.
“I told you this wasn’t an easy thing. You can’t expect to get it overnight.”
“How about in two nights, then? Because Dean thinks we only have a little bit of time until we are the only thing the demons are focused on, and the clock is running out.”
“Let me show you a few things to try meditating on that might help you then; after that, it’s all up to you.”
~~~~~~~
“Thank you, Missouri. Really… thank you for everything,” Sam said earnestly, as he stepped back onto the porch hours later. The sun was starting to sink down in the west, and even from the porch, he could hear Blue Oyster Cult floating in the air from the Impala’s speakers. The windows were rolled down and Dean’s boots were hanging out the passenger window.
“It was no trouble, Sam. I know you can’t promise to stay safe, but you can promise to try.”
“I will, Missouri.”
“Sam,” she was looking past him to the car, “be careful with that one.”
“Dean? We have a deal; I told you about it. I--” Sam lowered his voice, “--know he’s not my brother anymore, Missouri, but he will stick to the deal, and that’s all I need. He’s not going to hurt me.”
“Oh, I think he is your brother, Sam. A lot more than he should be. And he may not hurt you on purpose, but the hurt he can cause you on accident… Be careful, Sam.”
Sam frowned. “Missouri, what--”
“Not just with your brother, but with what you’re about -- you’ve been around enough to know that some things once freed don’t go so easily back into their cages.”
“I don’t under--”
The horn of the Impala blew, cutting him off.
“Yo, Sammy! You’ve burned all the daylight! Let’s get going!”
Sam gave his brother an impatient look and turned back to Missouri, but she had stepped away and her expression was remote. “You should go, Sam.”
Sam looked at her helplessly. “What were you saying about--”
“Sam!” Dean yelled again, pressing the horn.
“Okay! I’m coming!” Sam yelled back, taking a few steps down. He turned back one last time, but Missouri was gone, and both the screen and inner doors were shut.
He climbed into the car with a withering look for his brother, who was impervious.
“Have a nice visit?” Dean asked, shifting the car into gear.
“Why’d you have to be such a jerk? I was just saying goodbye.”
“You’ve had--” Dean paused to eye his watch, “--six hours to say hello, goodbye, and almost any other combination of words you wanted. Wasted the entire freaking day. Get anything?”
Sam gave up and let go of his annoyance. “Maybe, I don’t know yet. We talked about it and she gave me some meditations to focus on; they might help.”
“‘Might’? ‘Might’ doesn’t sound like something I would sit on my ass for half a day to get.”
“Dude, you cut class and laid under Amanda Kneffler’s crappy porch with all the gaps in the planking for eight hours once, because she might have walked out the back door and she might have been wearing a skirt when she did it. Don’t even try that crap with me.”
“Yeah,” Dean grinned, “but I was right, wasn’t I? And that was girls; this is some mumbo jumbo maybe mystic dream-quest crap.”
“No, that was High School, and this is the Apocalypse.”
“You spoil all my good memories.”
“It’s called ‘perspective’, Dean.”
“It’s called ‘killjoy’, Sam.”
Sam gave a half smile. “Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
~~~~~~~
Sam’s good humor over the exchange in the car lasted until they found a motel room, then he was distracted by other things. Dean was letting him share time on the laptop these days, and he wanted to look up some of the things Missouri had suggested.
Dean’s good humor lasted much longer. He was still grinning hours later when Sam’s eyes ached too much to continue any more research. He closed the computer and looked over to see what his brother was up to.
“It wasn’t that funny, Dean.”
“Hmmm?”
“In the car. You’ve been grinning like a loon ever since. It wasn’t that funny.”
“Am I wearing a sign somewhere that says I need help deciding what’s humorous, Sam? Maybe I just like what’s on TV.”
“Yeah, because,” Sam squinted to see what was on, “documentaries on the homeless always make me happy inside, too.”
Dean clicked the television off and tossed the remote onto the nightstand. “In the car earlier, I’m not happy because it was so funny… I’m happy because I got it.”
“Got what?”
“Amanda Kneffler! The porch. I remembered, and I didn’t have to struggle for it, it was right there when you said it, like a real memory. And I totally remembered that you were the bitch, dude. That came completely natural.” Dean smirked.
Sam ignored the jibe to pursue the larger question. “What’s strange about that?”
Dean shrugged. “When I… came back, I didn’t. Remember, you know? I knew what had happened, and what my bargain with the angel was, and you -- I remembered you best of all. But all the details of what makes a person real, that makes a life… all of that was gone. I picked up a few anchors, like my car, and my jacket, Dad’s journal from your house, things that were familiar and I valued in my life, because they were supposed to help me remember how to act, how to be Dean Winchester; I remembered the items and that they were important. But it was just facts. The angel told me what to get.”
Sam had gone very still.
“It took awhile, but things started to filter back in. I took care of the things that were supposed to be important, even if I didn’t actually care, because I needed them to remind me. I didn’t feel anything for the jacket until I found Dad’s journal under your bed. I was just touching the leather on the cover, and the leather scent of my jacket suddenly stuck me; it was honestly like lightening, Sam, and then a thousand memories poured in. I still didn’t get why the jacket was important; I do now -- but then it started as possessiveness, and some confused imagery. Same with the Impala; I didn’t really get her either, not until that jackass outside of Biloxi almost t-boned us. I got it then. But it’s still been kinda a struggle for the random crap. Bits and pieces.”
“What don’t you remember now, Dean?”
Dean raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Did you really just ask me what I don’t remember?”
“You know what I mean!”
His brother shrugged, still amused. “Can’t tell anymore. Not unless something comes up and I’m blank on it; doesn’t feel like there are any gaps. I mean, I’m sure there are, but not… obvious ones. Before it was pretty obvious, but I didn’t care.”
“Was it like that with me? You didn’t, uh, feel anything for me either?”
“No.” The look Dean gave him was piercing. “I always felt something for you; you were what I remembered best. Even when I didn’t remember your name, I remembered you.” Dean’s voice was distant, like he was remembering something far away, another lifetime. He snapped back to attention with, “I mean, to be honest, mostly what I felt for you was a kind of rabid possessiveness. It was easy to justify taking care of you; you’re vital to my plan. Revenge and selfishness are good Entropic emotions, and those all come easiest. By the time I actually got my hands on you, though, I was already filling in some of the missing crap. More brotherly stuff.” He shrugged again. “Anyways, I’m just pleased to be picking up little details too. You know, functionally.”
Sam wasn’t entirely sure how to take this. “Ah, well, that’s… that’s good, Dean. I mean, that you remember and all.”
“Yeah, it’s awesome. I’m going to go get celebratory pizza. You want to come?”
“No, I’m going to try some of that stuff Missouri showed me. The sooner I get started, and all that.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll bring you back some.”
~~~~~~~
The next few days were strained. The pizza and revelations had put Dean in a good mood, but by the next morning, that mood had vanished and he was jumpy and irritable. Sam woke up in a less-than-friendly frame of mind for no reason he could come up with, and everything went gradually downhill from there.
Even a long run on a deserted track and a winding trip through Arkansas to pick up a salt-and-burn Bobby had muttered something about during Sam’s periodic check-ins with him failed to distract Dean from the fact that all they were really doing was waiting. Waiting in the slim hope that something Sam had learned from Missouri would click and net them some clues from the whatever. It was the kind of nice, concrete plan that had driven Dean up the wall when he was properly alive; being a demon had actually seemed to improve his patience, but not for situations like this. Even his roaming search for some way to translate the spell had at least included actual people to find.
Nothing really seemed to smooth out their tempers, not Dean’s increasingly long absences from whatever motel room he randomly decided on when he was tired of driving, or the hours of meditation Sam was working through. There was no conflict between them, so nothing to make peace over or settle. Even bowing to the curse one windy night in a battered old motel in northern Wisconsin did little to help; Sam was reluctant and bitchy before Dean took out the knife, as uncooperative as he could manage for the sex he was unfortunately --to Dean’s way of thinking-- fairly lucid for, and restless while he slept afterwards. Having an insider’s view to Sam’s emotions did nothing but give Dean a more vivid representation of how just how irritable and frustrated his little brother was. There was just nothing for them to do while Sam tried to feel out how to work his gift, except stay moving and hope their enemies weren’t able to track them down.
Dean was uncertain just how many Seals were left, but he was confident the answer was ‘almost none’. Maybe actually none by now. He had considered hunting down a lone demon and beating an answer out of it, but the risk that it would see him and escape was greater than the information was worth. Lilith almost certainly knew about him by now; from Ruby, if no other way --assuming the bitch hadn’t run for the hills rather than face Lilith after losing Sam in the first place-- and if from Ruby, then she also knew about the spell changing hands. Even if she couldn’t know exactly what they were up to, she would know it was unhealthy for her plans. The last thing he needed was some low-level toady running back to her with a pinpoint location.
But another hour in Sam’s company without a break was likely to drive one of them to blows. There was still a few hours to sunset, and generally he didn’t even think about pulling off the road until well after dark. Especially in the winter when the sun set so early, so Sam’s surprise when Dean pulled the Impala up to the curb in front of the office of a suitably seedy-looking motel was expected. Dean didn’t say anything to him, but stalked inside and demanded the usual accommodations. He moved his car around to the rear of the motel and got out long enough to inspect the room and give Sam a few meaningful looks. All of which his brother ignored, looking relieved to not be trapped in the car anymore.
“You didn’t bring the laptop in.”
“Nope,” Dean replied, poking suspiciously at what looked like a weak latch on the window. “Thought I’d go see if there was someplace in town that does both burgers and Internet. Did you need it?”
“Not if you want to use it,” Sam offered generously, not even attempting to hide his happiness at Dean’s leaving.
Dean decided the latch was crap, but the stick wedged vertically in the track above it was a suitable security measure against most human threats, and the non-human ones wouldn’t care if they boarded the entire damn thing up. He dropped the tangled collection of wards they generally kept around --some general ‘stay away’, and decent ‘nothing to see here’ type stuff he had picked up here and there or borrowed from Bobby-- on the table.
“Got your cell phone?”
“Yes, Mom.” Sam sounded impatient.
“I’ll be back before midnight. Anything interesting happens, like another visitation or finally a freaking vision, gimme a call.”
~~~~~~~
The music was excellent, the burgers tasty, and the Internet was at the speed of light. But something still felt terribly off. Away from Sam for a few hours, Dean had expected the tense, grating feeling to dissipate. It wasn’t that his brother was really doing anything --other than not getting his visions working and being generally emo about the whole thing-- but Dean was frustrated in general, and everything Sam did just set him off. The time apart was a truly needed thing, so Dean didn’t understand why, if anything, the tension was getting worse. He hadn’t really noticed at first, but finally his own restlessness was too obvious to ignore, and the way he kept glancing at the clock even though he had nowhere to go, and the tight, achy pounding in his head… It was too much with no cause, and he tossed some cash on the table and grabbed the laptop up. Something was wrong. This wasn’t coming from within himself, and it wasn’t coming from Sam. In fact, for only being a few days post-sex, he wasn’t getting much from his brother at all.
He had to get back to Sam.
Sam wasn’t answering his cell phone, which by itself wasn’t necessarily a cause for alarm. He was prone to showering at the worst times, and he might have just left it in the other room. That was plausible. Likely, even. He might have walked to the lobby for something and forgotten to bring it. Or across the street to the diner for dinner. Lots of possibilities. But the closer he got, the more certain he was that something was wrong.
Dean could see lights on in the room when the Impala slammed to a halt and he leaped out. It was sunset and the long shadows left the back of the motel in darkness. Dean didn’t bother with the room key, he just twisted the handle unthinkingly until the lock snapped and shoved the door open. But inside, he had already known what he would find.
Sam was gone.
Chapter Seventeen:
I see the bad moon arising.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin’.
I see bad times today.
~Bad Moon Rising, Credence Clearwater Revival
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin’.
I see bad times today.
~Bad Moon Rising, Credence Clearwater Revival
The days had been wearing for Sam, but having Dean out of his hair for awhile promised to give him the break he needed to really buckle down and focus on his meditations without feeling like he was being watched every second.
Or it should have.
After a good hour, he gave up and relaxed into a more casual posture than he had been trying, flopped back on the bed, considering his options. He was really honestly trying to follow Missouri’s instructions, but something just wasn’t clicking right in his mind. He thought he understood what she had been saying about energy and form, but it felt like he had it, and still nothing was happening. It was also hard to maintain; she had promised that with practice and experience, he should be able to hold the… aura, for lack of a better word, in place without having to think about maintaining it, but for now, it took nearly constant attention, and he still wasn’t certain he had it right. She had told him that even when he did get it, he shouldn’t expect the information he was after to just come pouring in. It was more like baiting a hook and hoping the fish were hungry; an analogy Sam hadn’t been comfortable with, considering it was his mind on the line, literally.
But he was still edgy and restless, and surprisingly, somewhat nervous. There was an almost oppressive feeling in the air, and he found himself eying the clock and wondering when Dean would be back. Something he would have found unbelievable just an hour earlier. He thought about giving Dean a call, he even picked up the phone… but what would he say? ‘I have no news. Nothing is happening, but I’m jumping at shadows; can you come back?’
Dean probably would come, but he doubted the demon would be able to resist a certain level of mockery. And with the way they both had been feeling-- that would probably end in punches.
Sam was confident of his ability to hold his own in a normal fight, and would have given himself even odds against his brother before, but his brother with a demon’s supernatural strength was a no-brainer. If Sam was going to brawl, he wanted at least a distant chance of winning. He stuck the phone in the pocket of his hoodie, though, just so it would be close.
Even a long, hot shower didn’t do anything to ease his nerves. He just knew there was something out there.
A few more hours passed until Sam was not only certain, but more sure of it than he had ever been sure of anything in his life. It was out there, it was after him, and it knew where he was. He had to run. He dragged the hoodie back on over his clean shirt and went out into the parking lot, body tense with nerves and senses alert. He had a pistol, one silver knife and a pocketful of salt. But he was never going to make it on foot; he had to find a car, and fast.
~~~~~~~
Sam’s cell phone started ringing about the time he turned onto the Interstate. He fumbled for the phone he had completely forgotten about having, and managed to get it open before the ringing stopped.
“Dean!” Sam gasped, relieved to hear his brother’s voice.
“Are you running from me?” Dean’s voice was ominously level. “Because I gotta tell you, Sammy, you picked a stupid time to try this.”
“No, Dean, that’s not-- Something’s after me,” Sam said desperately. “I had to go.”
“Had to go? Go where, Sam? Where the hell are you?”
“I don’t know!” Sam’s frustration bled into his voice. “I was just sitting in the room, trying to work on things, and could feel it coming. I had to get out. I hotwired a car… you need to get out of there too, Dean!”
“Sam, calm down.” Sam could hear the rustle over the connection as Dean moved around the room. “There isn’t anything here.”
“It’s not there yet--”
“I don’t feel anything either, Sam. The wards are still active; there’s people chatting in the parking lot--”
“No, damnit, Dean! I felt it; I can still feel it. It’s coming.”
“Coming after you? You can still feel it coming after you, Sam? Where are you?” Dean asked sharply.
“Just passed Exit 40. I thought if I could get away, we could meet up. Maybe back at Bobby’s--”
“No, Sam,” Dean cut him off. “Pull off, get out of the car, and wait for me.” Sam could hear the jingle of keys and the door as Dean left the motel.
“Dean, I can’t. It’s still--”
“--coming, I know, Sam. Now pull off the damn road and get out of the car.”
“Dean--”
“Sam. You aren’t listening to yourself. This makes no sense! You suddenly get a wild hair that something’s after you, so you take off from a nice, safe, warded motel room in the middle of nowhere, steal a car, don’t call me, and take off for… where again?”
Sam hissed, frustrated. “Dean--”
“You don’t sound like you’ve pulled over yet,” Dean snapped. “You won’t like it if I have to make you get off the road.” It wasn’t something Dean had tried before, forcing his will on Sam through the tenuous connection between them, and he didn’t know if it would work. But it made an effective threat.
“Okay!” Sam exploded. The road around him was deserted as he slowed the car onto the grass sloping down beside the asphalt. “Now what?”
“Get out of the car and walk into the woods.”
“What? Why! It’s freaking cold, Dean!”
“Sam, I swear…”
“Okay! Okay, I’m getting out.”
Dean could hear Sam cursing softly as he climbed out of whatever car he had stolen and into the freezing winter air. Dean had grabbed Sam’s boots and jacket that had still been lying in the motel room when he left. He had a really bad feeling about whatever was going on and needed to get his hands on his brother again. “Sam, you sound like you’re just standing there.”
“It’s fucking cold and I’m wearing sandals, Dean. What do you want from me!?”
Dean growled as he turned onto the Interstate ramp and picked up speed. “I want you to stay where I goddamn leave you, I want you to call me before you do stupid things, and I want you to get your ass away from that car and out of sight. Maybe something is after you, or maybe something is luring you in by making you think it’s coming after you. You consider that, genius? Where the hell did you think you were headed?!”
Sam hugged his arms around himself and pinned the phone against his shoulder so he could keep talking to Dean as he walked into the tree line. “I wasn’t going anywhere! I was just… going away. From--”
“--whatever is coming. Yeah, yeah, gotcha. And you don’t see how that screams trap? Your running away is probably a direct line to whatever thinks you’re tasty!”
Sam huffed a bit, but didn’t have a good reply. His skin was still crawling, but every step he took away from the car was an almost physical struggle, and the fact that it didn’t weird him out that he had an almost unbearable compulsion to head back to the car and keep driving was itself weirding him out. Enough to follow Dean’s command and keep struggling to get deeper into the woods despite the bitter cold of the light snow covering the ground and his bare toes.
“Sam, I’m gonna park some distance away. I don’t want the Impala near that car you stole. No way to know if you picked it randomly or if it’s tagged. Keep walking; I’ll find you.”
“And what if something really is after me, and now that I’m not driving, it’s going to get me that much faster?”
Sam heard the slam of the Impala’s door as his brother got out, and could almost hear the cold, anticipatory smile on Dean’s face as he replied, “That will save me the trouble of hunting its ass down, now won’t it?”
~~~~~~~
Sam sat on the tree stump with his sandals planted squarely on a log to keep his practically bare feet out of the snowy undergrowth. The feeling of pursuit and the need to flee was still heavy in his mind. But with Dean’s orders and threats to help keep him firmly in place, and the knowledge that Dean was in the forest looking for him right that second, Sam had plenty of incentive to fight the compulsion.
He had stumbled through the forest in the growing dark until he was genuinely worried about his toes and could barely see the ground. Finding the tree stump had been a stroke of luck. That had been awhile ago, though, and Sam had passed the point of being able to feel his feet, and was onto worrying about the rest of himself. The hoodie wasn’t meant to protect him against the chill of a snowy forest on a winter night, and even though the air was dead still, his jeans weren’t the best at retaining heat either.
He had tried calling Dean a few times, but his brother wasn’t answering. Sam was trying to crush the edge of worry he had about that. Dean had been worried about him on the phone. Pissed as hell when he had thought Sam was running from him, then angry, and scared. Dean should have found him easily. And it was dark, and freezing, and the dead, muffled silence of the snowy winter forest was creepy as hell. It didn’t help that the night was moonless and he could barely see his hand in front of his face, if he had been willing to unwrap his arms to try it.
Sam was trying to distract himself from the turmoil over his missing brother and his physical discomfort by focusing on the compulsion in his mind. Now that he was absolutely not moving, he thought he could maybe feel what Dean had been afraid of. He still needed to flee, felt like something was after him, but he needed to flee in one direction. When he imagined turning in a different direction… he just couldn’t. Sam wondered uneasily where he would have ended up. He couldn’t come up with any place in particular in his mind. Just… that way. And he hadn’t even thought of calling Dean, not once the feeling got bad enough that he should have. It just genuinely hadn’t crossed his mind; the only reason he even had the phone on him was an accident. That more than anything else screamed outside interference.
A hard, cold hand out of nowhere clamped across his mouth as another gripped his shoulder hard, muffling his startled cry and preventing him from leaping to his feet.
“Sam.” The low, familiar growl flooded him with relief and he relaxed into his brother’s hold. “You have to be quiet now,” Dean whispered into his ear. “There are bad things in these woods tonight, and I don’t know that I got them all. I’m gonna take my hands off you and get these boots on your feet. Can you feel your toes?”
Sam shook his head as Dean released him. Even though his brother was barely a dark shape against the darker forest to his sight, he knew Dean would be able to see him clearly. Dean muttered a curse and draped something over Sam’s shoulders. He was grateful to realize it was his jacket and hurriedly shrugged it on. The knit gloves and cap Dean had bought to tease him were still crammed in the pocket. He hastily pulled those on too, not caring in the least how ridiculous they looked.
Meanwhile, Dean had been doing something odd with his legs, though it wasn’t until Sam started to feel the painful tingles of returning sensation that he realized what it was. Dean had crouched down and stuffed Sam’s frozen feet against his own belly under his shirt, and dragged his own coat around to keep in as much body heat as possible.
“You so fucking owe me for this, Sam,” Dean hissed darkly as he rubbed Sam’s calves. “You cannot imagine the favor you are gonna owe me for this. Sandals? In winter?”
Sam gave Dean an irritated look that he hoped wasn’t completely lost on him.
“I wasn’t exactly planning on going outside. I had the sandals on so I didn’t catch god-knows-what from the floor of that forsaken hell-hole you put us up in,” Sam snapped.
“Shhhh.” Sam closed his mouth abruptly, remembering the dead silence of Dean’s movements and his hushed whispers. “Can you wiggle your toes for me?” Dean muttered. Sam complied, pleased when they all seemed responsive. “Okay. Just needed them thawed out enough so you can walk on them without falling all over the place. Boots on now.”
Sam sat silently while Dean tugged socks and boots over slightly less-frozen feet and then pulled him to standing. Sam had half a mind to ask him where the sandals were just to irritate him, but Dean’s edginess and his earlier warning about bad things in the woods was starting to weigh heavily on him, even against the compulsion still hammering in his brain, so he kept his mouth shut and wrapped his fingers around Dean’s hand when it grabbed his own.
The trip out of the woods was nightmarish even by Winchester standards. Sam was effectively blind to the landscape unless it was literally inches in front on his face. The terrain was a complete mystery, with slopes and tangled undergrowth, and his feet were clumsy with cold. Dean’s hand was his only guide, and he constantly stumbled and banged into things as he tried to keep up with the pace. Dean, to his credit, kept Sam more or less upright and didn’t let him hit any trees, but his attention was clearly on something else, and Sam was afraid to ask what. If it came to a fight, he would be less than worthless, unable to help or flee, and probably painfully obvious to whatever enemy they might encounter. Several times, Dean jerked to a halt and Sam slammed into his back. He actually appreciated these brief pauses, because he could lean greedily into Dean’s warmth while his brother focused intently on something only he was aware of.
Sam quickly lost track of time and distance. It seemed he had been stumbling through the frozen darkness forever when Dean came to another halt. But this time, instead of ignoring Sam, he turned to face him, leaning in so Sam could feel his breath warm against his throat.
“You’re doing good, Sam,” Dean whispered. “We just have this last little bit, and I can get you someplace warm and lit and figure out what’s going on in your head. But this part’s gonna suck.” Sam couldn’t imagine what would make the trip worse. “We’re gonna have to run.” That would do it. “It’s a little uphill, then a little downhill, and they’ve done more cutting near the road so the undergrowth is a lot thicker… and there might be some people waiting around for us. Can’t tell if they’ve found the Impala, but if so, there’s going to be a bitch of a fight. I know you can’t see a damn thing , so if we get in a dust-up, you just drop flat and wait it out. Okay?” Sam nodded. “Good. Ready then?”
“Yeah,” Sam muttered; he let out a slow breath and tightened his grip on Dean’s hand. He could feel his brother’s approval and wished it didn’t make him feel so damn good.
~~~~~~~
The fight had been short and vicious. Their only warning, or rather, Sam’s only warning, that they were about to be attacked had been a rustle in the bushes, then Dean had pushed him roughly down and what had been a rustle became a full-on brawl. Tell-tale flashes had clued Sam in to how Dean was dispatching the other demons so easily.
“You have Ruby’s knife,” he greeted Dean when the fight was over.
“Not Ruby’s anymore.” Dean sounded grimly pleased. “And that should do it for the welcome wagon.” Sam struggled to his feet, then jumped when Dean grabbed his hand again. The warm fingers wrapped around his own were tacky with drying blood, but Sam didn’t hesitate to grip back.
Finding the Impala was a breath of relief, but Dean didn’t start her up, just sat there. The blood had been mostly wiped off on his thighs, but vivid streaks of it were still visible on the backs of his hands and crusted on his short nails.
“Dean?”
“Do you still feel it, Sam?”
Sam nodded, fidgeting in his seat. “Yeah. I mean… I recognize it now and while I’m not about to rip open the door, roll out of the car and take off running because of it, it’s still there. I think… I think it might be getting stronger.”
“That makes sense. If it gets bad enough, you’ll be forced to answer.”
“Would that be a bad thing? I mean, then you could kill whoever it is. It should lead us right to them.”
“We’re thinking this is Lilith, right, Sam? And killing Lilith is bad, remember? Even assuming she doesn’t shish-kabob us first.”
Sam nodded again, rubbing at his head with a grimace. “I don’t know what I’m thinking, man. I keep saying and doing things that make no sense.”
“It’s the spell, Sam. It’s a fucking good one, and it will probably make any decision that could possibly reel you in seem completely rational. I can do a little mojo thing that will sorta smear your presence for awhile, make it hard to pinpoint exactly where you are, but whoever is running the spell will still be able to tell what general area, to within a couple of miles probably. Also, it’s exhausting, and I can’t keep it up for long.”
“How long is long?”
“A few hours.”
“And then what? I’m screwed?”
“We have to break it before then.”
“We don’t even know who’s casting it, or what it is exactly. And I may be somewhat familiar with magic and occult stuff -- but that’s a far cry from being a real practitioner. You know anyone in these parts who might have a clue? Because I don’t.”
“It’s demonic in nature, Sam. I can see it on you if I squint just right. A human practitioner might be able to detect it, and could maybe get really lucky and put a dent in it, but you need a demon or something on that level to tackle this.”
“Can you do it?” Sam asked quietly. “I mean, you were... away, all that time. Didn’t you pick this stuff up?”
Dean let out a slow breath. “I didn’t spend most of my time in the Rendering chatting up pals at the water cooler exchanging crib notes on the latest and greatest magic, you know? I mean, I got one Hell of an education, literally, but it’s pretty specific. I can maybe destroy it without hurting you in the process, but it’s going to mean moving our schedule up.”
“How does the curse help us with this spell?”
“There’s a point during the power exchange in the curse where our auras bleed together a bit; the freaking compulsion is lying right outside of yours. I could blast something like this right off of me, but getting at the same thing on you is harder and risks turning you into a vegetable. If we confuse it so that it tries to swallow us both, I can get rid of it entirely.”
“Are you sure?”
“You think we’re going to come up with a better plan in the next couple of hours? This way the trail stops cold here.”
“Right here?!”
Dean gave him a ‘look.’ “What’s your bitching about now? We killed off the immediate threats; let’s get this done and make tracks. I’d like to be on the far side of the country from anyplace Lilith thinks I’m hanging around. Besides, we don’t know what this thing is really doing to you; I certainly have no intention of heading in the direction it was pulling you, and who knows what it will do to your brain for me to haul you off elsewhere while you’re feeling it’s effects?”
“It’s freezing in here.”
“You’re not going to notice.”
Sam still looked reluctant. Dean rolled his eyes and dragged a worn flannel blanket out of the backseat and tossed it at Sam.
“This would only take about ten minutes if you would stop being such a girl about it.”
“Fuck you, Dean.”
“That’s the spirit.” Dean dug a pocket knife out of his pants and flicked the largest blade out. He cut deeply into the center of his palm and held the cupped hand out towards Sam as blood welled.
“Drink a lot. We want to make sure all the magic is nice and confused. I hope the bitch gets a backlash headache that knocks her on her ass for a month.”
“Is that possible?”
“Don’t know, but the possibility should give you some sweet dreams while you’re napping.”
Chapter Eighteen:
Welcome me to a haven given
It’s well received into my open arms
I ran in my sleep through shaking tremors
I felt the splitting earth echoing in my ears
~Welcome Me, Indigo Girls
It’s well received into my open arms
I ran in my sleep through shaking tremors
I felt the splitting earth echoing in my ears
~Welcome Me, Indigo Girls
“Why again did you insist we had to get a freaking room?” Dean asked, annoyed, when Sam finally emerged from his shower.
Sam gave him an equally irritated look and pulled on his clean jeans. “Because after your solution to our little problem, I woke up completely disgusting, and we were a few hundred miles away with no signs of pursuit. You admitted we were probably clear, and I need some calm, peace and quiet to work on the meditations some more. What’s the problem?”
“‘Probably clear,’ and ‘clear’, are not the same thing!”
Sam rolled his eyes.
“Go take a shower and give me some space.” He sank down onto one of the beds and crossed his legs.
“Because naked in a shower is exactly where I want to be when the forces of Hell kick the door down and try to drag you off.”
“You reek like blood and you’re distracting me.”
Dean muttered something under his breath and stalked into the small bathroom. A few minutes later, the sound of running water in the sink filled the room and Sam tried to relax into his mind.
Something had to give soon.
~~~~~~~
For his part, after washing the rest of the blood from his hands, Dean tuned his hearing into the rhythm of Sam’s meditative breathing and heartbeat so he would know if there was a problem, then settled himself on the edge of the bathtub and sent his consciousness ranging out to try and detect any other demonic entities in the area. He wasn’t reading anything close by, but anything could change and he wanted the heads up.
A sudden change in Sam drew him sharply back into his body.
“Sam?” Dean called, opening the door. His brother was still sitting on the bed where he had last seen him, but his shoulders were shaking and he was resting his face in his hands.
“Sammy?” Dean asked sharper, and grabbed his shoulder.
Sam looked up; his nose was bleeding and he smelled like pain, but he was smiling broadly and Dean realized he’d been laughing.
“It works, Dean. I saw… we have a place to start now!”
“Awesome!” Dean hugged him exuberantly, then let him go to examine his face. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Sam looked at his hand is if surprised to see blood there. “I remember I used to think this was the most painful thing ever, now next to the crap visitations from your angel friend, this is a cakewalk. I mean -- they still fucking suck, but it’s not even on the same scale.”
“So you know what we have to get?”
“I have some clues. I need to do some research, but I think we’ve got it.” Sam was still grinning even though the expression was somewhat tense with pain.
“What did you see?”
“Mountains… a crowd of people, the clothes were old. Like, really old. Another century old. There was a dirt road, and a… rope. I think they were hanging this guy, Dean. I saw his face pretty well; he was watching this one man in the crowd. There was a… sign? Something. I couldn’t make out the words on it, but there was a symbol. Like a town seal or something.”
“That’s all a little vague, Sam.”
“Not as vague as some things I’ve tracked down. Hand me my shirt, would you? We need to find some wifi.”
Dean tossed his shirt to him, but Sam paused in the act of pulling it on, expression thoughtful.
“I’m not irritated anymore.”
“Um… good,” Dean responded, bemused. “That’s… good.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed; he finished dressing then faced Dean directly.
“Are you?” he asked pointedly.
“Am I irritated?”
“It’s not like any of this has been smooth sailing, but it’s never been as bad as this past week has been. And now it’s all just… gone. I feel fine. And don’t even try to tell me you weren’t feeling it too!”
“It was Lilith.” Dean shrugged. “You were being pressured by the trap she was setting, and I was probably detecting it around the edges. It was irritating us both -- which shouldn’t be surprising, considering its source.”
“So next time I want to deck you, we should look for a spell?”
Dean snorted. “When was the last time you went an entire day without wanting to hit me at least once? I don’t think that means you’re being targeted, I think it means you’re still breathing.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Or whatever?”
Dean shouldered a duffle bag and flashed Sam a blinding smile. “Exactly.”
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Masterpost