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, Everything happens for a reason
Member No.: 30,091
Joined: 1-February 08
I've only ever posted on ff.net or livejournal, but I thought I'd give this a try. I've been bouncing this one around since "Jus In Bello" aired, so I figured I'd show it. Jess is haunting the person living in the Stanford apartment now, and Sam starts getting visions of it. Eventually, it all begins to spiral out of control, just when Dean's deal is about due. Starts after "Jus in Bello", goes past finale.
Matthew wearily grasped onto the stair railing, his palm gliding up the smooth surface of the stained wood as he made his way up. It felt cool, likely because of the crisp February air. He had one of the more brutal days that a Stanford graduate student could endure, berating himself for choosing such a field as Sociology. He should have gone into Forestry instead. His theories deviant behavior of children who lost a parent early in life were blasted as hearsay after his thesis presentation. Granted, he didn’t have life experience to draw from, but who did in his field?
He reached the top of the stairs, fumbling in his pocket for the keys, all while protesting with a tired grunt. All he wanted was to see his bed. He unlocked the deadbolt and pushed the door open, being greeted by that slow creak. That was something he and the super tried to fix on numerous occasions but never had any luck. After a while, they determined the place wanted it that way and left it alone. Matthew found it an oddity considering the apartment not too long ago had been rebuilt from a fire.
Slamming the creaky door behind him, he threw the keys on the table, removed his jacket and threw it over the back of the kitchen chair. He slunk into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, rolling on his back and closing his eyes. Everything felt so soft, so wonderful, but after a minute he noticed the chill in the air. He sighed, hoping that didn’t mean the heater was broken. He was too tired to check it out though, and figured an extra blanket instead would work. He was sound asleep before he could fetch it.
“Sam.” The voice was barely audible, and Matthew didn’t give it a second thought. It was likely coming from the place next door.
“Why Sam?” The words were no louder than a faint whisper, but it was enough for Matthew to stir. His eyes cracked open, focusing on the ceiling above him.
“What the-” He suddenly popped up, stunned by the image above. He closed his eyes and opened them again, only to find he wasn’t seeing things. There was a blond woman in a white nightgown, her eyes were vacant, her long, wavy hair was splayed on the ceiling, and blood pooled from her stomach.
“Sam,” she said, louder, now more than a whisper. Matthew stood up on the bed, reaching his arms up, trying to help her. A giant wave hit him and he fell backward, throwing his arms in front of his face as the ceiling and the woman burst into flames. He waited for the heat to consume him, covering his face in safety, but suddenly he felt a cold breeze. He lowered his arms and pushed open his left eye, seeing that the ceiling was normal and the woman was gone.
“Sam!” Dean shouted, shaking his brother, who was in the adjacent bed. He was screaming and flailing, entrenching himself in a set of blankets and sheets.
“Wake up Sam! You’re having a nightmare.” Sam’s eyes shot open and he took in a sharp gasp, staring with disturbed eyes into Dean’s worried face. He was sweating and panting heavily, unable to move while Dean held onto his shirt, making sure his brother in his incoherent frame of mind wouldn’t do anything irrational.
Sam’s breathing slowed and he choked a bit while reality set back in. He tried to speak, but only small grunts left his mouth. He closed his eyes tight and opened them again, becoming aware that he was in a motel with Dean.
Dean let Sam go and ran his hand through his spiky hair to calm himself down from his abrupt wake up. “Jesus Sam, you haven’t done this in a while. I thought we were done.”
“Me too,” Sam weakly said, his bearings now almost intact.
“What were you dreaming about, and don’t give me a smart ass answer this time.”
“Come on Sam. Just tell me.”
Sam sighed in defeat, sitting up and shaking off his confusion and distress. What ever he saw was vivid, just like the other dreams. The psychic dreams. He didn’t want to believe this was one of them though. “Jessica. She was on the ceiling, burning, but-“ Sam froze, for he wasn’t exactly sure what it meant.
“But what Sam?”
“There was another man watching her burn.”
Dean examined Sam carefully, hoping that Sam’s expression would give him better clues. All he saw his long, shaggy hair hiding his face, obstructing any clues. “Jess huh? It was probably a bad dream.”
“Yeah, probably.” Sam got up and shuffled over to the bathroom sink, dousing his worried face in a cool splash of water. “But-“
Sam shook his head. “Nothing. Why was that man there?”
Dean shrugged, not sure if he wanted to dismiss this or help his brother through it. “Did the place look familiar?”
“Yes, and no. It looked like my old place at Stanford, but it was different.”
“Like rebuilt different?”
Sam’s heart sank and his face turned white. Dean was right, it was his old apartment. He couldn’t accept this was a vision though. They were supposed to be gone. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Oh, great,” Dean said, knowing that look. “You had a psychic dream.”
“No,” Sam denied.
Dean’s glare of disbelief pierced through Sam, letting him know he wasn’t buying his act.
“We can’t go to Stanford, Dean. We’re in the middle of something intense here. Besides, the guy wasn’t dying. Just a little freaked out.”
Dean thought about it, but still wasn’t accepting. “We’ve got time to check it out.”
That got a sharp reaction out of Sam. “Check it out? What if I run into someone I knew? If I recall correctly, we’re now officially dead. Besides, I’d rather focus my time on our other situation.”
Sam sighed and climbed back into bed, rolling over and pulling the covers up to his neck.
“Don’t ignore this Sam.”
“Good night Dean,” Sam replied, brushing him off.
Sam ignored him and did everything to tune out his brother, but Dean was too bothered to go back to sleep. He heard the TV clicked on, the volume kept low.
Sam sighed and got up, sitting on the edge of the bed, joining his brother in some bad late night TV.
“What are they selling now?” Sam asked, noticing the bad infomercial.
“Some sort of weight-loss product. You have been looking a little chunky there lately.” Dean cracked a smile, but Sam wasn’t biting.
“Who stuffed his face with a one pound meatball sub before bed?” Sam asked. Dean shrugged, acknowledging his brother had him there, and turned his attention back to the TV.
Sheila heard the frantic knock on her door and raced to open it. A very bothered Matthew breezed by her, working his way into the apartment and dropping on the couch.
“You didn’t make any sense on the phone Matthew.”
“I…I don’t get it. What I saw, it isn’t possible.”
Whatever he saw, she had never seen him this spooked. It did seem more than just a bad dream. “Why?”
“I’ve been raised my whole life to believe that ghosts aren’t real. They can’t be. I…I just wonder-“
“Maybe it was a sign from God? You know, a burning bush type of thing.”
“A burning woman? I don’t think so.”
Matthew agreed, realizing he wasn’t making any sense. He was still too rattled. He leaned forward, letting his head fall in between his legs while his hands were clutched tightly behind his head.
“Are you okay?” Sheila sat down next to him and rubbed his back gently.
“I don’t know.”
“Once you’ve taken a minute to calm down, I’ll share what I found out.”
Matthew lifted his head up and looked at her surprised. “So soon?”
“It’s Google Matthew. Pretty quick and easy. You know the fire that happened at that apartment over two years ago? Jessica Moore, a 22 year old student, died in that fire. Her boyfriend was in the apartment too, but he got out.” She got up and brought over her laptop, showing him the picture.
“That’s her!” Matthew now felt sick to his stomach. He was seeing ghosts. How could this be? “Did you get the boyfriend’s name?”
Matthew’s face turned white. He couldn’t believe this was happening. “She mentioned the name Sam a few times.”
“What did she say?”
“Just Sam. Wait, the last time she said ‘Why Sam’?”
“You think he had something to do with her death?”
“I don’t know what to think about any of this. You Google the name Sam Winchester?”
Sheila nodded. “Yeah, but I didn’t have much luck. A Sam Winchester came up on the FBI’s most wanted list, and he apparently died in custody in Colorado a week ago. Chances are that ain’t our guy.”
Matthew felt his excitement deflate a little. “No, probably not.” He shouldn’t expect all his answers tonight.
“We can start checking around here tomorrow. I’m sure he was a student too. Maybe we can find him or a friend and get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, you should get some sleep.”
“Sleep? I can’t sleep. I certainly can’t go back to my place right now.
Sheila looked at him carefully and sighed, realizing he was still a mess. She grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, frowning after flipping through a few channels. “Nothing but bad infomercials.”
All sorts of alarms went off inside Matthew when she flipped to the next channel. “Wait, wait, stay on this one.”
A stunned Sheila froze, the remote still pointed to the TV. “You looking for some weight loss stuff? You seem pretty thin to me.”
“I…I don’t know. Something tells me it should be on.”
Sheila shook her head. “Whatever. I’ll go get us something to drink.”
Matthew watched the TV, accepting that under normal circumstances, under normal feelings, there was no way he’d pay attention to this crap. This meant something, somehow, but he wasn’t in the frame of mind to explore it tonight.
He was too rattled to pay attention anyway.
“Where are you Sam?” The voice faintly said.
“Jessica, can I call you Jessica?”
The ghostly figure didn’t answer, only keeping her vacant stare while on the ceiling.
“Jessica, Sam should be with you.” A quick breeze blew through the apartment, scattering papers and chilling him to the bone. He shivered and cowered in fear.
“Why aren’t you here?”
“How do I help Sam find you Jessica?” The breeze grew into a gust, pinning him against the wall.
“Let him go.”
“Let who go Jessica? I want to help you.”
She screamed and burst into a fury of flames, and he shielded himself from the onslaught.
Sam shouted, startled out of his dream. He adjusted himself in the passenger seat of the Impala and worked through the stupor that often came after a deep sleep, feeling Dean’s worries eyes burn through him. Dean sighed in hopelessness and pulled the Impala over to the side of the road, throwing the gear into park and turning to face Sam.
“What? I fell asleep.”
“You weren’t sleeping Sam. You were staring out the window the whole time. You zoned out. It was a vision, wasn’t it?”
Sam’s head dropped down toward his lap, overcome by a nervous feeling that often came when Dean stared him down like that. “No. It was a daydream.” His eyes drifted back up, peering out through the dirty film on the windshield. “Where are we?”
“Wisconsin. Morton House, remember?
“Yeah.” Sam squirmed as those glaring eyes still fixed on him. “Look, I’m okay. Stop worrying.”
“Was it about Jess?”
Sam paused, reluctantly accepting he couldn’t avoid the question. “Yes.”
“Was that other guy there?”
“Then it was a vision.”
“I don’t know what it was.”
Dean huffed and dropped his head to the steering wheel, for he honestly didn’t know how to deal with this. “Sam.”
“Don’t worry about this Dean.” Sam was irritated now, and didn’t need his big brother’s overprotective nature to kick in. Not now. He briefly wondered if it was Dean’s way of changing focus away from his situation. “I didn’t get an intense headache or feel any pain. It can’t be a vision. Just keep driving. I’ll be okay.”
Dean continued to stare, unconvinced.
“Morton House, Dean. We don’t have a lot of time here. It’ll be night soon.”
After another good long glance he relented, shifting the gear back into drive and pulling back out into the road. He wasn’t going to let this slide, but Sam did have a point, they’d have to let it go for now.
“Whoa, you’re not going to believe this.” Sheila was pretty excited by her find, even if it took a few days. She hadn’t had any luck so far finding Sam Winchester, or where he went after he left school. She couldn’t even find on old friend of his or Jessica’s that might have some answers. But she struck gold here.
“What is it?” Matthew walked over to the desk. Sheila had offered to come by and do some more searching after she got off work. He felt okay about letting her come over, since he had a few days of no ghost visits.
“Sam Winchester’s mother died in a house fire when he was six months old. The date, November 2nd, 1983.”
“No kidding?” Matthew looked over her shoulder to see the info on laptop. His jaw dropped when he saw the dates. “The same day as Jessica, only twenty-two years earlier?”
“That’s too weird to be a coincidence.”
“Where did his mother die?”
She read further into the obituary. “Lawrence, Kansas.”
Matthew sunk into a nearby chair, his face wash with disbelief. He couldn’t fathom that it would be there. Whatever was happening now, it wasn’t anything he could dismiss. “I was in Lawrence last month, remember? The University of Kansas sociology department. I was researching for my thesis.”
Sheila’s mouth hung open, for that was strange too. “Like I said before, too weird to be a coincidence.”
“So, there’s a reason for all this?” Matthew got up and started pacing around, his mind too flooded over why this was suddenly happening to him. “Why now? The fire was two years ago.”
“Holy crap,” Sheila said, her latest search providing another goldmine. “I think I might have your answer. The guy on the FBI most wanted list, that’s the same Sam Winchester.”
“No kidding?” Matthew rushed over to peak over her shoulder onto the screen. The mug shots she found gave them exactly what they needed, for he recognized the same shaggy hair, the mole on the cheek, and the dour “carrying the weight of the world” eyes that he saw in the old student ID picture they managed to get hold of the day before. “Whoa, it is him. Sam is dead?”
“It appears so.”
“So Jessica shows up shortly after he dies? Does this mean she can’t find him?” Matthew began pacing again, for now he was thinking about how to fix this. He scoffed at himself, for a few days ago he couldn’t accept ghosts were real. “How do we get two ghosts to hook up with each other? Don’t they have the power to do that? Isn’t that something God does, reunite spirits with loved ones?”
Sheila took a long pause to think it all through, and then came up with something. “Maybe she’s asking you.”
Matthew rolled his eyes and threw his arms up in the air. “Oh, like I’m the clairvoyant one. Come on, all I’m doing is living in the apartment. Jessica’s mere existence goes against everything I’ve ever believed in.”
“Maybe next time she shows up, you can ask how you can help.”
Her answer made Matthew even more upset. “Next time she shows up? If she shows up, if I’m not scared into a stupor when that happens.”
Sheila closed the lid of the laptop, stood up and grabbed her coat. “It’s been a long day Matthew. We’ll pick this back up tomorrow.”
Matthew nodded as she touched his shoulder and gave him a reassuring glance. She smiled at him and he forced a smile back, even though he was still bothered. He watched her leave the apartment and exhaled a worried breath, retreating into the bedroom. He fell onto the bed and closed his eyes, trying his best to stop his mind from running in circles.
“Where are you Sam?” A faint voice said.
Member No.: 30,091
Joined: 1-February 08
Okay, here's Chapter two. This gets a little more intense.
“Sam?? Sammy?? Come on, please, snap out of it.”
A disoriented Sam tried to focus on the worried eyes of his brother, which were level with his, but his face was hazy. Dean crouched down in front of him, his steady hands resting on the top of Sam’s shoulders, there to shake him out of whatever stupor he was in. The world slowly came back to Sam as he stretched out his hand and ran it along the dirty carpet underneath, figuring out he was on the floor. His back was wedged into the corner and he felt the pain in his shoulder blades from pressing hard against the wall. His lungs hurt, as if they were previously fighting for air, and his throat felt tight. Pretty soon Sam recognized the starbursts in the motel room. They were still in Ohio.
“What happened?” Sam barely choked out, having trouble talking.
“You tell me. I woke up and you were here, backing away from something that was attacking you.”
“I…I don’t remember anything. Did you see something?”
“No, there was nothing here. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were having a bad dream. Are you hurt?”
Sam raised his shaking hand to his face, shocked to find his cheeks were soaked with tears. How could all this happen from a dream? Even his worst nightmares weren’t this bad. Last thing he remembered was falling asleep. He glanced over to the tossed aside covers hanging off the edge of his bed. Was he dragged from it, or did he get out on his own?
“Answer the question Sammy.”
“No, I’m not hurt. I just had a bad dream.”
Dean stood up and stretched out his hand, helping Sam to his feet. Sam looked around, still very stunned, everything feeling unfamiliar overtop his battered emotional state. His insides hurt, as if he’d been crying for a month. He wearily made his way back to his bed and sank down on the edge, seeing from the clock it was three am. Nothing came back to him.
“Was it about Jess again?”
“I don’t know. Why ask that?”
“Because you were saying her name, but having trouble getting it out louder than a whisper.”
Sam didn’t have any answers, continuing his fight to gain perspective and bearing. He wondered why he couldn’t remember his dream. He only knew he had been through something horrifying by the way he felt. What could possibly involve Jess that would have him that scared?
“Earth to Sam,” Dean said, snapping his fingers in front of his vacant brother.
“Yeah, I’m just trying to remember.”
Dean suspected he needed to give Sam some more time, but he was really bothered by this as well. They both were under a lot of pressure lately, but maybe the deadline was affecting Sam more than he was letting on. Or maybe that Crocotta beat him around a bit too much. No matter what was happening, it was taking its toll and Sam was falling apart. Dean didn’t know how to help. “Don’t force it. It’ll come back to you.”
Sam nodded and laid flat on his back, taking in a deep breath and staring at the ceiling. All of a sudden something flashed in his mind. Let him go.
“What is it?” Dean asked, spotting that familiar look of revelation from the widening of Sam’s eyes.
“Nothing. I’m not feeling too good.” Sam clutched his stomach, reacting to the sudden sharp pain.
“I told you about eating burritos before bedtime. Stuff like that triggers nightmares and stomach aches.”
“That was you,” Sam replied, holding onto his stomach harder, waiting for the pain to pass.
Dean placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder, helplessly watching him work through his agony. He didn’t recall this type of pain ever happening after one of Sam’s intense dreams before. “Hey, do we need to get you a doctor?”
Suddenly the sharp pain passed and Sam’s body slackened back on the bed. His sharp breaths were the only sound in the room now, as he tried to recover from his episode. “I’m okay now.”
Dean took another long glance, and then worked his way slowly back to his own bed, watching his brother try to pull it all together. “Not by a long shot.”
Matthew suddenly sat up, abruptly waking from his sleep. He turned to look at his clock. It was only midnight. He turned his eyes forward, and that’s when he spotted a dark figure standing there. “Who are you?” He reached over and turned on the light, his eyes hurting from the sudden brightness. A few seconds later, she was in focus.
“Let him go,” she said with her ethereal voice.
“Jessica?” He got up and walked toward her, stopping as soon as her figure flashed out and in.
“Dean must die, Sam,” she said. “He belongs in Hell.”
“Dean? You mean Sam’s brother? He’s already dead. He died with Sam.” Matthew found himself stepping backward when Jess moved forward toward him. Something didn’t seem right. This wasn’t like before. He kept going back until he hit the corner, but Jessica kept coming. He pressed himself hard into the wall, inflicting some pain in the process. “Don’t come closer,” he warned, to no avail.
She stretched out her arm and held him by the throat, an enraged look on her face. “LET HIM GO!” She said, her grip becoming tighter.
Matthew felt the terror sweep through him as his breath was cut off. His lungs began to hurt from the lack of air, and he wasn’t strong enough to fight back. He had to come up with some way to get her to stop, and fast. “Okay, I’m letting go,” he replied, trying to choke out an audible reply.
Jessica paused and tilted her head, checking to see if he was sincere. Just as Matthew saw grey forming at the edges of his eyes, she loosened her grip and smiled, slowly lowering her arm. She gave him a long, satisfied stare. “Good, now you can’t leave me again.” She flashed out and in, then disappeared.
Matthew sank to the floor in the corner, leaning tight against the walls for support. He caught a few tears rolling down his cheek, and then clutched his aching stomach. He always had that problem with extreme stress, that sharp stabbing pain that wouldn’t quit until he calmed down. After a few minutes of deep breaths, the pain subsided.
His mind tried to back sense of it all. He hadn’t seen Jessica’s ghost in a month, and now she came back to kill him? Maybe it wasn’t him she wanted to kill, but Sam. Of course, Sam was already dead, how could she kill him? He couldn’t take this anymore. His ghost problem was getting dangerous now. It was time to seek out some help.
They’d been finding several demons lately. Sam wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but so far it wasn’t good since none of them would reveal who owned the contract. This girl though, something about her from the moment he laid eyes on her told him she wasn’t right. Now they had her in a devil’s trap, but that uneasy feeling wasn’t going away.
“What’s the matter Sam? Timeline getting a little too close for comfort?”
“I don’t believe he was talking to you, bitch.” Dean wasn’t in the mood to deal with a demon preying on Sam’s vulnerabilities. If it wasn’t for Sam’s insistence on finding out who holds the contract, she’d be back in Hell by now.
“Oh, but he should talk to me. I might have some answers for him.” Her glare left Sam unsettled and confused, as if she was sending him signals with her mind.
“Eyes over here,” Dean said, yanking her chin over to face him. “Who holds the contract?”
“Even if I told you, which I won’t, there’s no way it’s gonna help you. You’re doomed.”
“Then a name won’t hurt will it?”
Her eyes again drifted beyond Dean’s shoulder over to Sam. “It looks something like this.” She closed her eyes, and Sam was awash with panic when a dark vision hit him. It revealed a stormy place, cables everywhere, and the overall feel of intense suffering. Then he heard Dean screaming. Sam gasped, the horror too real for him to take.
“Stop it bitch!” Dean said, smacking her across the face hard. She opened her eyes and smiled, looking back at Sam. “Not pretty, is it?”
Dean turned toward Sam and picked up on the fact he was trying to hide something disturbing. “Send her back,” he ordered.
“But Dean, she knows-“
“We can’t trust her. Send her back, now.”
Sam nodded and stepped forward, reciting the exorcism. As she wretched in pain, pulling against the ropes, the grin never left her face. “Let him go.”
Sam felt his heart jump, for that image of Jessica saying that in his dream flashed in his mind. He paused, needing to know more of what that meant, but he felt a nudge on his shoulder from Dean.
Sam gave the demon one last look, and accepted that Dean was right, she was messing with him. He finished the exorcism, and black smoke rose from the girl’s mouth. She went limp, with no signs of life.
“What was that all about?” Dean asked, not at all happy over allowing the exchange.
“She was just trying to mess with my mind. You know, demon.”
Dean knew his brother wasn’t telling the truth, but wasn’t sure if what happened meant anything. He relented, knowing that Sam was too good at hiding things to give him any clues. “Okay, let’s take care of her and go.”
Sam nodded, and as they stepped forward to retrieve the body, Sam clutched his suddenly throbbing head. He sank to his knees, and Dean grabbed him in support. “Sam!” he shouted, but didn’t get a response. He knew Sam couldn’t respond. He never could before when having a vision.
A minute later Sam was back, and Dean pulled him up, leading him over to a nearby chair. “What’d you see?”
Sam was reluctant to tell him, still groaning in pain over his pulsing head.
“Come on Sam. I know that was a vision. What did you see?”
Sam looked up at him with bloodshot eyes, wishing the vivid image would go from his mind. “You in Hell.”
“I don’t believe this,” Matthew said as they approached the tiny house. “Come on, you think the neon sign is going to help with credibility?”
“I’ve been asking around,” Sheila said, leading him to the front door. “Several people have recommended him.”
“Sure, for parties. You think he can actually help with our problem?”
“We can only find out by talking with him.”
“What, like the other two quacks we tried? I tell you, it’s all a setup. They aren’t real. Jessica is…”
“Real? We have nothing to lose here. What’s another person to think you’re nuts.” Sheila knocked on the door, and a short man with white hair answered. He stared at them both inquisitively, but said nothing.
“Friends sent us. We’d like a reading.”
“Come on in,” he said, clearing a path in the doorway for them to enter. They entered a small living room with a couch and two chairs. The man took his spot on one of the chairs, and Sheila and Matthew sat together on the couch.
“My name is Dom, and you’re not here for a reading,” the man said.
“That’s not true,” Sheila said.
“I’ve seen reluctant tagalongs many times before,” he said pointing to Matthew, “but you’ve seen something and don’t know what to make of it.”
Matthew tried to deny with an expression of shock, but then let down his guard and nodded.
Dom leaned forward and grabbed Matthew’s hand, examining his palm. He closed his eyes and then gasped, dropping the hand and jerking backward. “The person you seek, demons surround him.”
“He’s in Hell?” Matthew wondered maybe that was why Jessica couldn’t find Sam.
“No, but at one time he ascended from a dark place and much of his soul is tainted.”
“What do you mean by ascended?” Sheila asked, both her and Matthew confused by the comment.
“He’s a higher form, with great power.”
“Yeah, well if he’s a higher power, why can’t he stop his dead girlfriend from burning up constantly and attacking me in my apartment?” Matthew was getting frustrated with vague answers.
“Those two must meet again, but it can’t happen right now. There’s unfinished business.”
Matthew got up and grabbed Sheila’s hand. “That’s enough. We’re dealing with another fraud here.”
Sheila got up, her face apologetic to the man who wouldn’t stop his stare. Matthew headed for the door with Sheila in tow, not interested in what he had to say.
“You must bring Sam to Jessica. Only she can help him.”
Matthew whipped around, for Dom had his attention. “How did you know their names? Oh yeah, the psychic thing.” He was still skeptical, but couldn’t exactly dismiss it as a lucky guess either. “How could I possibly find Sam anyway? He’s dead.”
“Go to Kansas. Your answers start there.”
“Both will suffer terribly unless you do.”
“Then maybe I need to find a new place to live.” Matthew pulled Sheila through the doorway and slammed the door behind him. As they walked out to the car, Matthew grabbed his head, feeling the sharp stab of an intense migraine. He groaned in agony.
“Matthew, are you alright?”
He straightened up, still wincing in pain, but whatever hit him subsided. “Yeah, it was just a strange flash of something. I think that psychic did something to me.”
“What did you see?”
Matthew shook his head, not sure how he could explain it. “It was really quick, I couldn’t make much of it out but-“
“If I didn’t know better, I saw a man suffering in some sort of Hell.”
Sam suddenly shot up, abruptly waking from his sleep. He was at the laptop, and must have drifted off during research. The last thing he wanted to do was sleep right now. He saw the silhouette of a person in the dark corner of the room, and it was slowly stepping toward him.
“Dean must die, Sam.”
Sam shook his head and stood up, backing away from the person approaching him, knowing full well he was dealing with an angry spirit. “Why are you doing this Jess?”
“Let him go.” She didn’t stop her march forward, eventually pinning Sam in the corner.
“I can’t do that,” Sam said, closing his eyes and telling himself this wasn’t real.
“LET HIM GO!” She clasped her hand around his throat and tightened her grip, cutting off his supply of air. Sam struggled, trying to pry her fingers off him, to no avail. She was too powerful.
“Why Jess?” He asked with soft voice, wondering how she became an angry spirit out to hurt him. He looked over at a sleeping Dean, wanting to cry out for help, hoping he would wake up and see his struggle, but her hand pressed against his windpipe harder, rendering him unable to speak. He suddenly he felt weakness in his body as his resisting arms fell to his side. He couldn’t fight anymore, and wished she would release him before it was too late.
“You can’t leave me again. Dean must die.”
Sam didn’t have time to figure out what that meant, for everything went fuzzy just before it went dark.
Member No.: 30,091
Joined: 1-February 08
Okay, since y'all have been so wonderful, here's chapter 3. Thanks for reading!
“Huh!” Sam shot up, startled out of his less than pleasant sleep. Often times he didn’t sleep comfortably, but this time was particularly bad. Something didn’t feel right. He looked down to discover he was in his bed, sitting on top of the covers with his clothes still on.
“I’m not sure how of much of this I can take Sam.”
Sam turned his head in the direction of his worried brother’s voice, who was sitting nearby at the table by the window, working on the computer. He ran his hand through his thick hair, his entire being shaken by an unsettled panic. He tried to remember how he got to bed last night, and why he was so spooked.
“You’re welcome by the way,” Dean said, now lifting his eyes up from the screen.
“I found you in the corner again, but this time you wouldn’t wake up. I actually had to pull you into bed. I’ll tell ya, it was a lot easier when you were a kid.”
“Let me guess, you don’t remember.”
Dean was acting tough, so Sam knew that his latest incident scared him. All of a sudden, something hit him. He got up and rushed to the bathroom, going straight for the mirror. He instantly noticed his bloodshot eyes and flushed face, then examined his neck, but didn’t find any bruises. I remember being strangled. Now he was really confused, shuffling back into the room, feeling Dean’s watchful eye.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Sam said, sinking wearily down onto the edge of the bed. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for any strange news or police reports in Palo Alto.”
“Your nightmares are getting worse, and you’re having visions. It couldn’t hurt.”
“It probably has nothing to do with Stanford.”
“Maybe not, but it doesn’t hurt to check.” Dean clicked on another link, but again got frustrated with the result.
“Nada,” Dean said, closing the laptop. “All quiet on the western front. Maybe Bobby will find something.”
“You shouldn’t bother him with this. He’s working on your problem. We don’t have much time.” Anger welled with Sam over Dean straying from the plan.
“Aren’t you one for stating the obvious? Anyway, he’s going to find someone who could check in on your old place, maybe find the guy you’re dreaming about.”
“Dean, that’s not going to help.”
“We’ve got to try something, Sam. I can’t handle seeing you like this. This isn’t going away.”
Sam huffed in contempt, not at all pleased by the distraction. Whatever was happening to him wasn’t about to result in an eternity in Hell. Dean needed to get his priorities straight. “What else did Bobby say?”
“He said in the meantime to let this go. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
“There’s a man that knows what he’s talking about. He know we’re on our way there?”
“Yep, although I’m not sure what else we’ll find at his place. Both of you have read every book twice and jumped down every rabbit hole out there. I’m tired of it all turning out to be nothing. We should keep doing our jobs, like checking out this thing in California.”
“No,” Sam said, pursing his lips in defiance. “He’s looking for a way to find Lilith. It’s our only chance.”
Now it was Dean’s turn not to be pleased. “Sam, can’t you let it go?”
Sam threw Dean an incredulous glare, wondering why he would even say that. “Not a chance. We need to get to Bobby’s.”
Dean got up, realizing he was wasting words. "We better go then. Last I looked, Pennsylvania and South Dakota aren’t cohabitating.
Sam nodded and got up, wincing in pain over his spinning head. He still didn’t feel right. He worked through it and grabbed his bag, throwing some stray items in before closing. He saw that Dean was ready to go as well, so they headed out the door in silence. As he watched his brother pack the trunk, Sam wished he could make it to Bobby’s without another incident so that Dean would forget about this. He planned on staying awake the entire trip.
“I’m going to Kansas.” A shaken Matthew entered Sheila’s apartment, looking like he hadn’t gotten any sleep.
“Why? I mean, I always thought you should go, but what made you finally decided to do it?”
“Now I’m having dreams. I haven’t been in the apartment since the last incident, and Jessica is now haunting my dreams. She grabbed me by the throat again and screamed the same thing she told me before, ‘Let him go’.”
“How’s this happening?” Sheila from the beginning had been intrigued by Matthew’s ghost problem, but now she was scared for him. This was getting too intense.
“I don’t know, but I convinced Professor Daniels to send me on a research trip at the University of Kansas. I told him I had a new approach to my thesis.”
“I’m going to pursue a specific case study on deviant behavior, to strengthen my case. I’ll have full access to resources at the university.”
Sheila smiled. “A case study perhaps on one Winchester family?”
“Yep.” Matthew wasn’t as pleased as she was about the plan. He was very nervous, for whatever he found out could make things worse. He had no choice now, this had to stop.
“When do you leave?”
“Tonight. I’m going back to my apartment. Hopefully I can get some more clues out of this before I go.”
Sheila grabbed her coat. “I’m coming with you.”
“I don’t advise that. If by small chance Jessica does show up, she doesn’t need to be scaring the both of us.”
“Are you kidding? You need all the help you can get. I’m also going stay there while you’re gone too. Someone needs to be on ghost watch, just in case.”
“Want me to drive?” Sam asked. He noticed Dean’s eyelids drooping a bit.
“What, and you crash my baby while having one of your freaky visions? No thanks.” Dean had to admit he was tired, but he’d get more coffee on the next stop.
Sam ignored his comment, for a response wouldn’t do any good. He just wanted to leave it alone.
"So, why would an angry spirit be bothering you now? I mean it’s been two years, why is she coming after you now?"
"What makes you think it's an angry spirit?" Sam replied with irritation. "Even if it was, they’re usually confined to the area where they died. It doesn't fit."
"Maybe all that psychic weirdness in you lets you channel spirits."
"Psychic weirdness? Dude?"
"You have to admit, it would explain things."
"If that's the case, I would have had other run ins by now. We’re just guessing. Can we just drop this?"
"Sure Sam, what else would you like to talk about? You know, you missed Steel Magnolias on the TV last night. I know how that movie always made you cry. I wish I could have taped it for you, just so I could see you fall apart like a little girl."
"I'm not letting this go Sam. Now, if it isn't an angry spirit, what is it? A death omen? A demon?”
Sam shook his head. They had a long time until Bobby's house, so humoring Dean was his only choice. "I have no idea."
Sheila wondered if she should answer the door. After all, she was only watching Matthew's place for Jessica, not other visitors. When the knock got louder and she heard the locked doorknob jiggle, she went to the door.
"Sorry to bother you ma'am. I'm checking into a report of a disturbance."
"Complaints of screaming in the middle of the night. A woman."
"Uh, this isn't my place. My friend who lives here is away on a research trip."
"Yes, I have down that the person who lives here is Matthew Walker. I really need to get hold of him ma'am. Is there a number he can be reached?"
She nodded and opened the door wider, allowing the officer to come in. "I can write down Matthew’s cell number. He's en route right now."
The officer came in and did a visual examination of the place. "Where'd he go?"
"Lawrence, Kansas." Sheila went to the desk for a notepad, and saw the officer moving through the apartment looking around. "Can I help you find something?"
"A neighbor reported screaming and a loud bang on multiple occasions. Did Matthew mention having a fight with someone, like a girlfriend?"
"No, he didn’t mention anything.” Sheila hoped she was a good liar, for she knew this guy wouldn’t understand the whole Jessica thing. “He doesn't have a girlfriend and lives alone."
"Does he have any other friends that hang around?"
"None other than me. I’ve been here since yesterday and it’s been very quiet. When did the incident happen?”
"The report was filed yesterday, but the complaint said it’s happened a few times over the last month. I’m doing this as a formality. Do you mind if I check out the bedroom?"
Sheila didn’t understand why, but she had nothing to hide. "Sure, go ahead."
The officer stepped into the bedroom, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. He looked behind him, and saw Sheila distracted in the other room. He pulled out a small EMF reader out of his pocket. After that went off the charts, he could have sworn he heard scratching in the floorboards. Then the lights flickered.
"That happens all the time," Sheila said, coming into the room. "Rolling blackouts I’m sure."
The officer slipped the EMF reader back in his pocket and turned around. "Yes ma'am. I get that at my place too. Thanks for your time; I don’t see anything unusual here."
Sheila handed him the piece of paper with the phone number. "Matthew is very quiet. I'm sure the neighbor is mistaken."
"I'm sure you're right. Thank you for your time ma'am." The officer left, going down the long stairs and pulling out his cell phone once he was out of sight.
"Bobby, it's Jake...Yeah, something's up. I just spoke with this Matthew guy’s friend, and she’s hiding something. Definite signs of a spirit. You'll never guess where Matthew is."
"'Bout time you boys got here. What'd you do, take the scenic tour?"
"Sure did. Last I heard, Hell don't have purple mountains majesty and amber waves of grain," a weary Dean joked. They had driven all night, and he didn't rest any because Sam wouldn't. Bobby ignored him and went to fetch beers.
Dean shuffled his feet a short distance and collapsed on the couch, about ready to fall asleep, while Sam went to look at the latest stack of open books on the table.
"Give it a rest Sammy."
Sam ignored him and sat down at the table, one of the open pages catching his eye. Within a minute Bobby was back with the beer. He saw Dean was already asleep. He handed a beer to Sam, and took a seat next to him.
“Sam, Dean had me do some checking about your problem.”
“He told me,” Sam replied, his eyes never lifting from the page. “I told him it’s a waste of time.”
“Yeah, well, I had a cop friend of mine check it out and something is definitely up. It sounds like the guy in your old apartment was visited by something.”
“What, he told him that?”
“No, because he wasn’t there. My friend talked to a gal looking after the place and found signs all over the bedroom. The guy took a trip. Guess where?”
Sam looked at Bobby and shook his head.
Sam rolled his eyes and let the page he was turning drop down. “Oh come on, we don’t have time for this now.”
“I know. I’m not saying we should do anything about it. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”
Sam rubbed his eyes in exhaustion, taking in a deep breath. “Okay. Have you had any luck with the deal?”
Bobby shook his head. “Nope, got nothing.”
Sam went back to reading. “Then we’ve got to get busy.”
Bobby closed the book. “That’ll wait a few hours. Go join your brother and get some sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“No, you’re falling over exhausted. Now git.”
Sam sighed in reluctance and got up, taking a spot on a nearby recliner. He focused on his sleeping brother, wondering how he could rest so peacefully with what he was facing. He didn't even want to think about living without Dean. He lived that six months before, and he just couldn't do it again. He'd rather die. Before long his morbid thoughts drifted into a state of unconsciousness.
One Week Later
Matthew walked out of the building briskly, stewing over how that visit was a waste of time. For a parapsychologist, he certainly wasn’t open to talking ghost sightings. No wonder his department was having issues with funding. He found a bench outside and sat down, watching students walk by. It wasn’t long ago he was one of those simple students, not knowing what he knew now. He pulled out the copy of the newspaper clipping he found in the library. “Fire Claims Life of Young Mother.” He saw the devastated faces of the surviving father and his two young sons, one who was only an infant. He hoped to be able to find John Winchester, but he had no luck there either. Kansas was turning out to be a bust.
“A pretty sad story, isn’t it?”
Matthew jerked around, to see the woman behind him. “Excuse me?”
“The Winchesters. That fire affected them in more ways than you’ll ever know.”
“Did you know the Winchesters?”
The woman walked around the bench and calmly took a place next to him. “Yes, I did.”
Matthew inched over a little, not sure what to make of this person next to him. Was it dumb luck that she happened to see the article at that exact moment? “Do you know where I can find John Winchester?”
“Now why would you want to do that?”
“I heard about Sam and Dean. I wanted to offer my condolences.”
The woman lightly chuckled. “That’s a pretty bad lie Matthew. Although, I don’t think your intentions are wrong.”
Matthew’s heart sank and his eyes grew wide. “How do you know my name?”
“I know a lot about you. It’s strange how much of an open book you are. So you only recently started believing in spirits? Strange way to find out they exist.”
Matthew gazed her with shock, unsure how to address her comment. He didn’t think he should be phased by anything anymore, but he was. “Uh, well…who are you?”
“My name’s Missouri.”
“Okay, Missouri, how do you know so much about me?”
“I’ve been waiting for you Matthew. I knew you’d come here.”
“I’ve been here for a week. You only just now found me?”
“The timing wasn’t right until now.”
Matthew clenched his fists and wanted to pound on something. He was getting tired of games of half answers from everyone he ran into. “You know, I’m just ready to go home and give this up. It was a mistake to come.”
“Matthew, whatever is happening to you, you know there’s a purpose behind it. You’re here for a reason, so why not hold out for your answers?”
“Are you going to give me any? Where can I find John Winchester?”
“I’m afraid he’s dead dear.”
“There’s no official record of that.”
“No, there isn’t. I just know.”
Matthew pursed his lips and nodded, for he was giving up the wild goose chase. “Okay, then my work here is done. He was my last hope.” He got up and stepped away.
“Jessica isn’t going to leave you alone. You must deliver Sam to her.”
Matthew froze and turned around, now really befuddled by what he was hearing. “Now how can I do that? The only thing left of Sam Winchester is a burned up corpse in Colorado. If Jessica can’t find him, how can I?”
Missouri smiled and got up. “I can to put you in touch with a guy. He’s a specialist in this sort of thing. I have to warn you though, you’re going to be introduced to a world that will defy all logic. It’ll affect you forever.”
“What, even more than what’s happened to me now?”
“Way more. There are people out there everyday that see things that you can only imagine in your worst nightmare. Jessica will seem like the result of a séance at a slumber party. Are you ready for that?”
Matthew gulped, and looked into Missouri’s dead serious eyes. “I’m not sure.”
“Take your time to think about it then.” She fished into her pocket. “If you need my help, this is where I can be reached.”
Matthew watched her walk away, and then stared at the card dumbfounded. He had no idea what to do next.
Dean snapped awake, hearing the commotion coming from a few feet in front of him. He saw Sam in corner, tears streaming down his face, swiping at air.
Bobby stood in the middle of the room, watching Sam carefully. He grabbed onto a lunging Dean, holding him back.
"Bobby!" Dean shouted.
"Shhh," Bobby instructed, still fighting to hold Dean back. "You can't disturb him."
"What's going on?" Dean asked in a hushed voice.
"I think he's having a walking reverie."
"A what? How is this not a nightmare?"
“It’s hard to explain, but what he’s experiencing can only happen under certain circumstances.”
"Why are you doing this Jess?" Sam tearfully pleaded, before he began to make choking noises. Dean looked frantically at Bobby, but he still held him back and shook his head.
"He needs help Bobby."
"It won't kill 'im. It just messes with his head."
"What messes with his head?"
Sam stopped choking and went limp, sliding down the wall to the floor. Bobby let Dean go and they both went over to help Sam.
"What's doing this to him?" Dean asked as he took one side of Sam and Bobby took the other. They dragged him back to his bed.
"Not what, who. He's shifting into another reality, and something over there is pissed at him."
"Or someone. Like Jessica?"
"I don't know. It could be anything."
They gently placed Sam onto the bed and made him as comfortable as possible, noticing the trauma still lingering on his face. Dean knew from experience he’d be out a while. They stepped out of the room to talk in the hallway.
"Why is this shifting happening to him?"
Bobby sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I've only seen this once before. It happened to a guy who shouldn’t have-“ He gazed at Dean, not sure if he should share this information. He was only guessing.
"What Bobby? The guy shouldn’t have what?"
“Never mind, I’m sure it’s not the same thing.” Bobby saw Dean’s frustrated stare, and sensed he was going to reach out and choke him at any second. He reluctantly stopped his avoidance. “He was woken from a soul sleep.”
Dean’s confused look told him he still didn’t understand.
"He died and shouldn’t have come back.”
Member No.: 30,091
Joined: 1-February 08
Wow, thanks so much everyone for the positive feedback! I didn't think my crazy idea would be so well received. Here is chapter 4, and it is so far my favorite. It's pretty dramatic compared to the others.
Just a word of warning, the posting frequency might slow down after chapter 5, for that's all I have written so far and I'm on vacation next week. I won't keep you hanging too long though.
A tinge of regret over the deal always gnawed at Dean, but after hearing Bobby, it now felt like a punch in the gut. His instincts often served him well, but when mixed with grief, well, even good intentions turn bad. He didn’t want to question what he had done, but now it couldn’t be avoided. He created a mess and wanted to fix it.
Bobby led Dean into the other bedroom, for he didn’t want to risk Sam hearing anything, especially when he was only speculating.
"What…what do you mean, he shouldn't have come back?” Dean asked, keeping his voice low.
Bobby could see how torn apart Dean was over what he told him, exactly what he wanted to avoid. “You know what I’m talking about, the whole spiritual balance thing. Disrupt that and bad crap happens. Some things weren’t meant to be tampered with, like death.”
“What happened to this other guy? Did he go psycho or something?" The pain in his stomach was stinging now.
Bobby’s face fell. "Yeah, that's exactly what happened. That ain't the worst of it."
"It gets worse?"
"Eventually, whatever was after him got him. It took a while and a crap load of human suffering in the process. It don’t usually affect just the person who came back. Others get connected for some unknown reason, and they’re usually the ones who have no business getting involved.”
Dean’s heart grew sicker. It was as bad as he feared. “Are you saying innocent people can get hurt?”
Dean couldn't find the right words, moving a few gentle steps in disbelief before sinking into a chair. He shook his head, unable to grasp it all. "No, Sam knows better. He's strong. He won't turn out like that."
"Look, it might not even be that. What's happening could be from stress too. We know Sam is different."
"As in psychic powers different."
Bobby’s silence confirmed that was exactly what he was talking about.
Dean’s eyes cast downward, taking the brief pause to let Bobby’s assurance sink in. Maybe this could be fixed. "So…so what do we do in the meantime?"
"Nothing. You've got a week left. His problem can wait."
Dean’s head shot up, a new flare in his previously worried eyes. Protecting Sam should be their only worry. “If anything, we only have a week to fix Sam. He needs me.”
Bobby released a small breath of resignation, knowing that talking sense into a Winchester was an impossible task. “Dean, Sam won’t hear of it, and neither will I. The best way to help him is to get out of your mess first.”
Dean studied the earnest face of this man, this father figure, the one from whom he learned to never panic, the one who taught him to keep a level head no matter what. Even his own father couldn’t teach him that. "Bobby, promise me if I don't make it, you'll fix this for Sam."
"Dean, you’re not gonna-"
"Just promise me! Please, consider it a dying man’s last request. You’re the only person I trust in this world, and Sam needs someone to look out for him. He ain’t right, he never has been and you and I both know that as much as it pains me to say it. He deserves his second chance.”
Bobby wasn’t one to accept dying requests when the person wasn’t near dead yet, but Dean needed that peace of mind right now. "Okay. I promise,” he answered with a solemn voice.
Dean looked at him with gratitude and relief. "Thanks.”
"But hear this, we’re gonna do everything this week to make sure I don't have to deliver on that promise. No more distractions."
Dean gave him a sad smile and nodded. “Yes Sir.”
“Good. I’ll be downstairs, working on saving your ass. Let me know when Sam wakes up.”
Dean watched Bobby leave, and then went back into the bedroom, taking his place nearby Sam. He knew Sam was a grown man that could take care of himself, but lying there, he seemed so vulnerable. The guilt swelled within, for the idea didn’t sit right, the thought of leaving such a burden for those that mattered the most. Bobby was his only hope now, but somehow, that idea was comforting.
Matthew wasn’t sure what compelled him to stop, but the church called his name as soon as he drove by. He needed inspiration, faith, comfort, anything to shake the spooky feeling of the recurring dream he had last night. He knew Jessica wouldn’t kill him, yet the passing out from supposedly choking was getting a little too real for his liking. Since Jessica wouldn’t leave him alone no matter where he was, he might as well go home. This trip wasn’t giving him the answers he needed, and his patience was shot.
He visited Missouri, but she told him to hang on a little while longer, for the time wasn’t right. Other digging he did on the Winchester family resulted in a depressing story, but no new information. He still didn’t find out why John Winchester and his sons went underground after the fire. The FBI profile painted him as some sort of sociopath, but all his old friends said otherwise. Nothing added up.
The oversized wooden door to the massive cathedral was propped open, extending an open invitation to all visitors. Matthew stepped inside, each step he made echoing through the large sanctuary, bouncing off the stone walls and the images of fallen saints on the stained glass windows. He went to the alter, lit two candles, and said a prayer for poor Jessica and Sam, wherever they might be. That was the only thing he hadn’t tried yet and didn’t think it could hurt. The images of their suffering lingered while he walked over to an empty pew and sat down, taking in the small solace the cathedral provided.
“Your burden seems heavy.”
Matthew looked to his side to see a priest towering over him. He had to admit, a man in cloth probably wouldn’t judge him for spouting crazy ghost stories. "I may have seen the afterlife Father. It’s not white fluffy clouds."
The Father took immediate interest and sat down next to him. "What does it look like?"
"Pain, suffering, torment. It's happening to those that didn't deserve it."
"That could have been the judgment. We don't know what happened between them and God when they passed."
Matthew wanted to believe that, but the images were too real. This was more than an ethereal sentence. "She was a sweet girl, innocent, happy. She didn't deserve her fate. Now she hangs in limbo, angry, waiting for someone who doesn't come to her, even though he's ..." Matthew stopped, for what he was saying was getting a little too weird for even him.
"He's what my son?"
Matthew tried to go on, but the answer got stuck in his throat. "Father, can the dead exist to torment the living?"
"I don't know son. The world beyond is full of many unknowns. I do believe that God has a purpose, and whatever you’re experiencing is happening for a reason."
"I thought so at first too, but the more I learn, the more I see cruel fate. There’s no reason in any of it."
"Be patient. Reasons often follow their own schedule. Usually there’s unfinished business."
Matthew felt his insides turn out and he focused on the Father, his eyes wide in astonishment. “Unfinished business? Weird.”
The Father didn’t understand. “What is it?”
Matthew shook it off and got up, getting the exact answer he needed. “I don’t believe in coincidence anymore. This is happening for a reason. Thanks for reminding me.”
The Father was puzzled, but pleased to be assistance. “Now what for you son?”
“I can’t go home yet. It may take a while, but I know something will guide me to what I need.” He smiled at the Father and left, ready to see if Missouri had anything new for him.
One Week Later
The old and uncomfortable motel chair barely supported the weight of Sam’s lanky frame, both completely worn down by the rigors of this world. Sam leaned backward, not noticing the creak, and stretched his long legs in front of him. He clasped his hands firmly and rested them on his stomach, on top of the large pool of his brother’s blood staining his shirt. Time stood still, and he wasn’t sure he could ever move from this spot again.
Tears streamed from his eyes, obscuring the gruesome view of all he had left in this world. The corpse on the bed was cold by the time Sam put him there, and the only color now staying with Dean was from splattered blood. He didn’t look at peace, and Sam didn’t want to speculate the torment Dean was experiencing right now. All those demons, chomping at the bit for a year to get their hands on him, were now celebrating a day of retribution that had finally come. “Dean,” he whispered, hoping that somehow he would get an answer, but none came.
He was too caught up in the pain, the loss, the disbelief, that he didn’t hear the knock on the door, or the person letting himself in.
“Sam,” Bobby said calmly. He didn’t know what say in times like these. He didn’t know how to deal with Dean a year earlier, so he was certainly at a loss for words now.
“Everything all taken care of?” Sam asked with gruff voice, not changing his position.
“Yeah, they’re scarred for life, but alive.” Bobby stepped over Sam’s long legs, and sat in the chair next to him. A devastated Sam didn’t flinch, still studying the mangled mess in front of him.
“I failed him Bobby.” Sam bit his lip to fight back any more sobbing.
“No you didn’t. You did all you could. We both did.” Sam took no comfort in those words, shutting himself off further and refusing to share the burden of his somber vigil.
Bobby gave Sam a few minutes, but he realized no amount of time was going to make this easier. “Sam, can you tell me what happened?”
Sam wiped the tears off his cheeks, not sure he wanted to tell the story. He wasn’t sure he’d ever want to share what happened. It was too painful, too gruesome. No man should have to die like that, especially his brother. “Lilith took over Ruby. She was in the room with us and let the hounds in. They…” Sam buried his head in his hand and he let out a staggered sob. The vivid images of that scene were burned in his mind forever, and he wanted them gone.
“How’d you survive? Didn’t Lilith try to kill you too?”
Sam lifted his face from his hand, not ready to explain that either. “I don’t know. Lilith tried to kill me, but she couldn’t.”
“Nothing she did worked on me. She escaped before I could stab her.” Sam examined the torn shirt on Dean, soaked entirely in blood, and couldn’t hold back more tears. “I don’t know why it didn’t happen, but I should be dead.”
“Sam, I’m sorry you have to go through this, but if you had died Dean’s death would have been for nothing.”
“What about when I died? Why should I get a life now and not him? It’s…” Sam let out puff of hopeless despair. “It’s not fair. I won’t stop trying to get him back.”
Bobby knew he wouldn’t, but also knew there were rules. “I’ll help ya, but you need to remember Dean’s wishes. The cycle ends here. Sacrifice isn’t an option, nor is harm coming to others.”
Sam took another long, heartbreaking gaze at his brother. A year ago Dean was in this same situation, and he now understood why he grew desperate. Staring at a cold, prone, listless body, helpless to do anything but wallow in pain; that would drive anyone to a crazy act. He’d do the exact same thing, but for him, it wasn’t an option. “Okay.”
Bobby nodded, and reached into the bag he brought with him. He pulled out two plastic cups, and a bottle of whiskey. “You know, when you were dead, Dean wouldn’t eat a thing I brought him. All he touched was this stuff.”
Sam cracked a tiny smile. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”
Bobby handed him the half full cup, and took the other for himself, holding it up in a toast. Sam raised his cup, and it met Bobby’s with a somber touch. They didn’t need to say who their tribute was for. They slammed the harsh liquor down their throats, both welcoming the punch from their brief form of escape. Sam put his empty cup down, and Bobby poured more.
Matthew knocked on the door, greeted quite differently than he was the last time. The pleasant smile was replaced by red swollen eyes and dried tears. “Is something wrong Missouri?”
“Come in Matthew.” She somberly led him into the parlor, both taking seats on the couch. “It’s time now.”
“What’s going on?” Matthew felt huge concern for this woman he barely knew, for he felt every vibe of her distress. Something wasn’t right.
“Lots of suffering, and now a tormented soul. There will be no rest.” Missouri cleared the lump in her throat and went on, even though a small tear watered in the corner of her eye. “I don’t think Sam is dead Matthew.”
“His pain is different. I feel it now. He grieves among the living.”
“I’m not sure. But I can tell you where to go to find out. We were waiting for this moment to happen.”
“I…I don’t understand.”
She reached out, grasping with her fingers pendant around his neck. “Matthew, what’s happening is you’ve got some sort of spiritual connection to Sam. Your apartment has something to do with it, but so does this.”
“What, this? It’s a useless trinket I got in a flea market last time I was in Lawrence.”
“It’s an amulet, and it belonged to Mary Winchester.”
Matthew didn’t think he could take any more surprises. “How do you know that?”
“I can feel its power. I know.”
Matthew gazed at the charm in disbelief as Missouri let it drop back to his chest. What were the odds? “There’s something bigger at work here. A master plan.”
Missouri nodded. “Yes.”
“So if Sam is still alive, his death didn’t bring Jessica back. Was it me?”
Missouri nodded again. “This world is loaded with all sorts of spiritual portals, and with the right combination, one opens up. You made a connection.”
“What, like Carol Anne’s closet in Poltergeist?”
She smiled. “Yeah, something like that.”
“What does Jessica, or Sam, or the Beast want with me?”
“I don’t know. Sam used to suffer from terrifying nightmares all the time. It was because of his psychic abilities.”
“Sam’s psychic? Whoa, the plot thickens.”
Missouri smiled over his ability to respond to something so intense with a light hearted comment. She liked this kid. “Matthew. There was a huge disturbance last night, one that was always destined to be corrected. Being chosen for this was not by accident.”
Matthew raised himself up and paced around, moving his hand to the back of his neck. This had been going on for a couple months now, and he wanted it to end. “I have no choice. Whatever’s happening, I have to see it through.”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“What do I need to do?”
Missouri reached in her pocket and pulled out a card, handing it to Matthew. “His name is Bobby Singer. He and John Winchester were close friends, and Sam and Dean are like sons to him. You need to visit him.”
Matthew nodded and read the card. “Singer Auto Salvage? South Dakota?”
“These experts have all sorts of professions.”
“Should I call first?”
“Wouldn’t be a good idea. He’s not going to believe your story. Just tell him what you told me. When he sees you, he’ll know if you’re lying or not.”
Matthew nodded, putting the card in his pocket. “Then it looks like I’m taking a road trip.”
Missouri got up and took his hand. “This is the last I can do for you Matthew. You’re on your own now. I wish you luck.”
Matthew felt an overwhelming calm sweep through him from her touch. He needed that assurance, for whatever he was facing scared the crap out of him. “Thanks Missouri, for everything.”
He left and went to his car, and started driving toward the University. He needed a computer, for he had to print out directions to Singer Auto Salvage in South Dakota.
“Saaaammm!!” The desperate and besieged voice echoed somewhere in the deep, dark pit. Sam drifted slowly downward, through the cables, chains, and flashes of light, determined to find its source. He tuned out his extreme fright, even though evil swarmed all around, for he had to find the person in trouble.
“Saaaammm!!” he heard again, this time he could see its source. Sam winced at the sight, for he had never seen anything so awful. His brother was strung up, impaled by hooks, and he was petrified. “Save me Sam!!”
“Hold on Dean!” Sam reached out, but he couldn’t get close enough to touch his brother. He could only hover, for something was holding him back. Dean couldn’t reach out for him, since his arms were outstretched and chained. He fought harder, stretching his limbs farther than he ever had to before, but he couldn’t get close enough. Desperation overwhelmed him, for Sam couldn’t bear to see Dean suffer like this. The closest he got was a loose grip on the end of his shirt, and through the cloth he could feel how fast Dean’s heart was racing.
“Let him go.” Sam’s head snapped around, for that eerie voice was familiar. Despite the intrusion, he still wouldn’t let go. “Please Jess,” Sam pleaded, “I can save him.”
Jessica, hung over him, her hand out as if she was preventing him from going any farther. “You can’t save him, Sam. Let him go.”
“Help us, please!” Sam pleaded, but the anger intensified in her eyes.
“Everyone around you dies, remember?”
Her words crushed him inside, for Dean deserved to live. He shouldn’t have this fate. Why was Jessica separating them? “I can bring him back.”
“LET GO SAM!”
Her voice thundered, shaking Sam to the core. “I can’t.”
Jessica released her hold on Sam and rose upward. He drifted down and was able to wrap his arms around Dean, whose body was intensely shaking from the agony. Sam wasn’t sure how to get him out of this. “Dean.”
“Sam,” Dean choked out in a weak voice, before his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Sam instantly felt the coldness in his body. “No, no, Dean!”
“You can’t save him Sam!” He turned into time to see Jessica scream in a fit of rage, pointing her arm toward him. Sam yelled as he lost his grip of Dean and was violently pushed downward, throwing his arms in front of him, spiraling into the dark and never ending pit.
I know, I'm evil. Thanks for reading!
Member No.: 30,091
Joined: 1-February 08
What a crazy week. I wrote this in five minute intervals, in between my ultra busy life. Anyway, sorry it was delayed, for I really did start writing this before I finished chapter 4. Happy reading, and thanks so much for the interest.
Sam’s eyes filtered the gradually increasing light, his confused mind now aware that he wasn’t falling anymore. He felt arms wrapped around him, and they were struggling to keep him up. “Come on Sam, work with me.”
He mustered enough strength in his wobbly legs to help Bobby guide him over to a chair. The spinning in his head slowed down, enough for him to focus on the worn carpet at his feet. He was at Bobby’s place. They had only been there for a few hours when, oh God, Dean.
He doubled over, finding trouble catching his breath, feeling the beads of sweat dotting his forehead. His shaking hands moved to the back of his neck, and he discovered how bad he was burning up. He wasn’t sure why. The uneasy feeling deep in his stomach was back too.
Bobby disappeared into the kitchen, and in no time came back with a glass of water, which Sam grasped in desperation. He chugged down the contents and welcomed the small relief. Bobby took back empty the glass and placed it down, waiting patiently for Sam to calm down. "You okay?"
Sam shook his head.
“You had another vision.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Sam, you froze in the middle of the room, and were out of it for a while. I caught you right when you collapsed.”
Sam’s panting slowed a little, as the air worked its way back into his lungs. “Thanks.”
“What do you remember?”
Sam went back in his mind, trying to recall what happened. It hit him like a flash. “Please Jess, I can save him.” “Everyone around you dies, remember?” Somehow, that other guy was there too, watching from a distance. He shook his head. “Nothing is coming to me.”
Bobby’s solemn stare showed his disturbance over that answer. “Sam, before Dean died, I made him a promise.”
Sam’s weary face met his, and just the mention of Dean turned his heart sick. "What sort of promise?"
“If your visions kept happening, we'd have to fix it.”
Sam shuddered a bit more, trying to shake off his bad feeling. “No, we need to focus on getting Dean back."
“Sam, there’s a reason Dean made me promise that. There’s more to what’s happening than visions and nightmares. It can wreck you eventually.”
“Wreck me?” Sam’s voice raised a few levels. “What exactly did you discuss with Dean?"
"You know him, he wouldn't let it go.”
“This was the last thing he needed on his mind before he-“ Sam bit his lip, for he couldn’t say it.
“I know, trust me. Making that promise was the only way I could get him to focus on him."
"I've had visions before Bobby. I'll deal.”
"It’s not that simple, Sam. Dean sensed it too, which is why he made a stink about it in the first place. This time is different.”
“You haven't had visions since you were brought back. It’s possible you were woken from a soul sleep. Either that, or you woke up a spirit from theirs.”
Sam’s heart sank. “Jess?”
Bobby answered with a slight nod. “Maybe.”
Sam’s confusion grew, for he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to figure this out right now. The images, the trauma, it was all still too real. “Why now? I died over a year ago.”
“I don’t know.”
"So what do we do?"
Bobby sighed, for none of this was getting more pleasant. "Get your brother buried. Then we start figuring it out."
Sam reached for the rough and tattered edges of the chair, using them to force himself up with unsteady arms, his body still quivering but determined. He shuffled his boots forward, heading for the backdoor, sensing Bobby’s eyes burn through him.
“Take some time to rest Sam,” Bobby said, watching Sam’s struggle.
Sam turned around, his resolve unwavering, even if his body wasn’t up to snuff. “No, I’m ready for this.”
Bobby looked at him with caution, but Sam turned around, not needing his permission. He followed close behind when Sam resumed his slow stride into the yard.
Matthew watched in terror as an angry Jessica cast Sam into the pit below. He glanced down at the dead man below, and then over to Jessica.
“Let him go!” Jessica yelled at him.
Matthew held his hands in front of him in an attempt to soothe, somehow not bothered by the fact that he was gliding at a cautious pace toward the angry being. “Jessica, or is it Jess? Look carefully at me. I’m not Sam. I’m here to help.”
Jessica’s anger softened, but her confusion remained. Her head tilted to the side as she examined the object on his chest.
Matthew saw her fascination with the amulet. That was the first time she’s noticed it so far. Maybe he found a way to get through. “Why must Sam let Dean go?”
“Sam can’t save him.”
Her eyes stayed fixed on his jewelry, and he wondered why the fascination, but he stopped himself from over-thinking, since she was responding to him. He pointed downward at the lifeless body below. “Can someone else save him?”
A scowl fell onto Jessica’s face, and she backed away, taking in deep breaths of hysteria. She screamed and then burst into flames. Matthew jumped, snapping back into reality, finding himself clinging onto the sink in the men’s room. He raced into the restaurant, where he had stopped for lunch.
“Is everything okay sir?” The waitress asked, holding his order, wondering why he was gone so long.
“I need it to go. I’ve got to get back on the road, fast.”
Sam Winchester had certainly dug enough graves in his life. He told himself this was just another one, breaking into the fresh ground with relative ease, throwing all his might into removing the dirt quickly. The pit in his stomach was raw, and he wanted this done. He barely noticed the sounds of earth moving nearby, courtesy of Bobby’s shovel. He was too focused on his task at hand.
Adrenaline was the only thing fueling his motivation, Sam was painfully aware of that. After all that had happened, he wasn't sure how much more he could take physically, mentally, and emotionally. He bit his lip and wished away the quick flash in his mind of a bloody Dean on the floor, his vacant stare confirming he had slipped away. He couldn’t give in to the pain right now, not yet. Dean needed to be put to rest.
“I think we’re good Sam.” Sam glanced upward to Bobby’s concerned eyes, realizing he was deep in a hole and would have dug to China if Bobby hadn’t said something. Sam climbed out of the grave, taking Bobby’s rough and dirty hand for leverage.
Both men were tattered, but both knew they were better off than the body at their feet. That was little comfort, for either would trade places right now. Sam took the head of the body wrapped in cloth, while Bobby took the feet. They lowered it into the ground, and each took a moment for personal vigil.
Sam didn’t think he could cry anymore, but felt the wet streaming down his face anyway. He and Bobby had discussed a salt and burn, but they both knew they needed Dean around should they succeed. Succeed. Sam still desperately clung to hope that this wasn’t the end, but most of him felt like a failure. He’d let his brother down, he didn’t deliver on his promise. This was far worse than losing his dad, for he didn’t owe him anything. He owed Dean his life, but what good was this life living with all the emptiness and pain? Everyone that meant anything was gone, and he was alone. All the more reason to never give up on Dean, for the current reality was far worse.
Bobby finished his moment of silence, for he was never good at mourning his losses. The pain ran too deep, and he had to go on. He picked up the shovel and threw a patch of dirt into the grave. Sam was too beside himself to follow suit, turning away and breaking into a couple deep sobs.
“Sam,” Bobby said softly, “Go inside, I’ll finish this.”
Sam shook it off, realizing he couldn’t keep letting Dean down. “No, I’ll help.” He took in a deep breath, telling himself this was just another grave. He could finish this. He picked up the shovel and began moving the dirt into the deep hole.
None of this made sense, but then again, that’s why he was there. Matthew never been to South Dakota before, and nothing about this run down salvage yard revealed he’d been missing much. The “beware of dog” sign was a bit intimidating too, but the smell bothered him the most. The searing sun burned the remains of rotting oil and gas off the collection of rusted steel and rubber, leaving no doubt this was where cars faced their bitter end. He wondered what this automotive graveyard said about the occupant.
He was told to look for the old Chevelle, otherwise Bobby Singer wasn’t there. When he spotted the said beat up vehicle in the driveway, parked near the shabby farmhouse, he wasn’t sure whether to be excited or frightened. A tall figure deep in the yard caught his eye. “Excuse me!” Matthew shouted, but the person turned away and disappeared behind a stack of cars. Huh, probably didn’t hear me.
“Can I help you?” A voice said off to his side.
Matthew turned to look at the older man with the scruffy beard, and well worn ball cap. “I’m looking for Bobby Singer.”
“What’s your name son?”
“Matthew Walker. I was told to find him by someone I met in Lawrence, Kansas.”
Bobby looked past Matthew, examining the Kansas license plates and the rental car sticker. “You need some parts?”
“No, it involves another matter. Something that requires a specialist.”
Bobby accepted his name got around, but something about this kid seemed different. On the level. He had a hunch. “You from Palo Alto?”
Matthew’s jaw fell agape and his face went blank. “Yeah, how did you…? Did Missouri call you, tell you I'm coming?"
"Missouri Mosely?" Bobby smiled. "I haven't heard from her in ages."
Matthew placed his hands firmly on his hips, letting out a short huff of impatience. “Look, Mr. Singer, assuming you’re him, I’m a little short on patience right now. I haven’t been home in weeks, which stopped being cozy a couple months ago, and I can’t go into a bathroom now without seeing weird crap that’s pushing me into deep dark recesses of Hell all while making no freaking sense. Can you help, or do I need to drop the rental off in Sioux Falls and go home to a pretty woman who likes choking me and burning up on my ceiling?”
Bobby smiled. “Well, wasn’t that awkward.”
He turned toward the house. “Call me Bobby. Come on in, and we’ll compare notes.”
“I’ve got more than a few notes.”
“I bet you do.” Bobby held the screen door open for him, letting him follow inside. “We’ll have a beer, and you can tell me your story. I’ve got all damn day.”
“Thanks, but I don’t-“ Matthew sensed by Bobby’s insistent glare that the offer was more than being nice. “A beer would be great.”
Matthew stood in complete awe in the center of the living room while Bobby disappeared into the kitchen. He wandered over to the stack of books in the corner, admiring the worn and dusty titles covering different aspects of the occult. Yep, he’d definitely come to the right place. He spotted a strange book and looked closer, only to find a cookbook ended up in the middle of that mess. As he turned around, his eyes lit up in amazement over the giant symbol on the ceiling in the next room.
Bobby came back and handed him the beer. “The key of Solomon.” He watched Matthew carefully, noticing him swallow the beer without adverse affects. His apprehension lightened a little.
“I’m not sure I want to know what that’s all about.”
“Nope, you don’t.” Bobby drank his beer, watching this wide-eyed kid take in everything. “So talk. Don’t worry, nothing’s gonna sound too crazy.”
Matthew turned around and took a nearby chair. “It started a couple of months ago. I found out the hard way that someone died from a fire in my apartment, because she started appearing on the ceiling, before bursting into flames.”
Bobby gave him all signs he was still listening.
“I found out her name was Jessica Moore, and she lived there with Sam Winchester. Whenever she appeared, she kept asking for Sam, but when I tried to find him, I found out he'd recently died. Missouri said you knew the Winchesters.”
“They were like family to me, both the boys, and their dad too.”
“Were? So they’re all dead?”
Bobby found a way to avoid answering the question. “She only mention Sam?”
“No, she’s mentioned Dean too. She yelled his name a few times while attacking me.”
“Attack?” Bobby’s interest jumped.
“She choked me, saying ‘let him go’.”
Bobby attention to the story grew. “Did she think you were Sam?”
“At first. But this last time, it was different. It actually happened on the way here. I could get through to her.”
“I asked her a question, and she answered. It was the strangest thing.”
Bobby got up, heading toward the stack of books. He pushed ten aside in a stack, and then opened one, flipping through the yellowed pages. He found what he was looking for a third of the way in, his eyebrows raising in fascination. “I’ll be.”
“So what I told you means something?”
“Describe everything you remember, in detail.”
“It’s not something I can easily forget. Dean was strung up in chains, in a dark place with lightening flashing, and the feeling of evil all around. Sam was trying to get to him, but Jessica held him back. He tried to talk to her, but she got very angry. Dean died in his arms, and then Jessica threw him with her mind into the pit below. I could only sit there and watch. But then-“
“Then she came to me, and was mesmerized by this.” He held out the amulet on his neck. “She said Sam can’t save him. I asked her who could, and she burst into flames.”
Bobby placed the open book on the desk, and headed within a few steps of the kitchen. “Any of this sound familiar? An honest answer is required this time.”
The tall man, the one Matthew likely saw earlier, entered the same room but maintained a distance, nodding with his head hung in shame.
“They aren’t visions. You two are having simultaneous reality shifts. You know what that connection means? We have a doorway.”
That set off a furrowed brow in the other man. “If that’s true then-“
Bobby pointed toward Matthew. “You need to talk with him.”
He worked his way over, towering over Matthew’s average frame. Matthew examined the man closer and went pale. “No way, you’re-“
“Hi Matthew. I’m Sam Winchester.”