Fic: Nineteen Minutes (2/2)
Part I
Part II
I'm so sorry, Sam. That took longer than I thought. And now you only have six minutes.
I had some trouble finding them. Little Bucky started following me as soon as I stepped out of this place. With the girl with pigtails.
I was surprised to see her. I don't see her much. She tried to talk to me.
I think she wanted me to let you go.
But how can I? I promised. I tried to explain it to her. Foolish child. Her parents don't seem to have taught her right from wrong. No wonder the world is such a terrible place.
Sam, you have to stay awake. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me, Sam, or I'll get your brother and put him in here to suffocate with you.
There. I knew you could be reasonable.
The hussy found the rifle. She's trying to talk your brother out of destroying it. She thinks it's worth more than one life. The needs of the many, she said. I suppose that's one way of looking at it.
Your brother doesn't think so. But he's not the one who has the rifle.
I'm not quite sure what the hussy wanted with it. Someone killed her husband, or possibly she killed her husband, or possibly her husband killed someone else. I don't know. It's so difficult to pay attention sometimes.
But she thinks a weapon is more important than you.
That's so sad for you.
So much blood. It seems such a shame to waste it. I wish I were corporeal. I could use it to write something. Maybe a warning on the wall, so nobody else gets shut in here by accident.
If only someone had thought of that before poor Mr. Andrews died.
Do you want to write a message? No?
What about a message for Dean?
Oh, very well. Have it your way. So your brother's going to find your body without even a goodbye.
I wish I could tell you to keep your hopes up, Sam, but your time's almost up. Four minutes. And I don't think Dean's going to be able to get the rifle from the hussy.
Think of happy things. I want you to die smiling.
And promise you won't haunt me.
I'm not cruel, Sam. I'll let Dean have your body. It's important. Then he'll know I kept my promise. I told him you wouldn't die of your wound, but your air would run out at midnight.
What's the matter? Don't you like me touching you? You're a shy little boy, Sam.
That's so cute.
But you have to get used to it. I'm going to have to strangle you. I just thought I'd let you get used to me touching you first. I don't want you to be uncomfortable when you die. I'm not a monster.
I'm a woman of my -
Bucky!
Oh, Sam. Little Bucky's here. Do you see him?
Of course you see him. But he's not looking at you. He's looking at me. Why is he looking at me?
I can't stand it, Sam! He's looking at me like I'm a murderer. I'm not a murderer. I just wanted peace! I'm sorry I have to kill you, but I have to keep my promise. You see that, don't you?
Oh, Sam, they never let me rest! For a hundred and thirty years they haven't let me rest! And even if the hussy takes the rifle away, they're bound to the house.
You won't haunt me, will you, Sam? You'll stay with me and protect me from them.
So much blood.
How is there so much blood?
It's on me.
Look at me.
Look at me and tell me you see me.
Good.
Bucky's gone. Thank God.
You know, Sam, sometimes I wish Lucifer were real. Then I'd have someone to blame for this.
Stop bleeding, Sam! Don't you see? That's what I've had to endure all my life. The ghosts and their gunshot wounds and all the blood, the blood everywhere.
I built all those rooms. Every time a room filled with blood I built a new one. I still couldn't keep ahead of them.
And now you. I can't let you die of your wound. I won't. If you die of your wound then there'll be blood when you're a ghost, and I can't take more blood. I'm going to strangle you, and then all I'll have to see will be the marks of my fingers on your throat.
Just… there.
Don't flinch, Sam. You still have two minutes. I'm just trying to figure it out. Will was a businessman. He believed in efficiency. So do I.
But I've never strangled anyone before.
Will always said you should be open to new experiences.
I'm so glad you don't have the strength to scream, Sam. I do so detest loud noises. And I don't want to have to hear echoes of you screaming for the rest of time.
Sam, I'm so disappointed in your brother. I thought he'd be the one to free me. I even took you to give him an incentive. But it wasn't enough. He let the hussy get the drop on him. Now you have to die. It's such a tragic waste.
Do you have any last requests? A cigar? Maybe I could sing a little song for you?
You want your brother? Sam, now you're being unreasonable. You know I can't bring him. He'd try to save you, and you have to die. I have to keep my promise.
One minute, Sam.
Oh, there's a good boy. Not even struggling. Look at me, Sam. I don't want you to feel alone when you die. You can look at me, it's all right.
Look at me.
That's it.
Your last few breaths. Shall we count them out together? Breathe for me, in and out. That's it.
No, no, too fast. Breathe slowly, Sam, normally.
You're terrified. Poor Sam. Your heart's going too fast. You don't have to be scared. It won't hurt. I'll make it as quick as I can. You won't feel -
No. I won't lie. You will feel it.
But not for long.
You should pray now, Sam if you believe in God. Do you?
Look at the watch. It hasn't wound down. In all these decades it hasn't wound down or stopped or slowed.
Such a good watch.
All right. It's time. Ten seconds now.
Oh. I think that's Dean trying to break down the door. Foolish boy. It's too late.
Five seconds.
Look at me.
Four.
Breathe.
Three.
Two.
One.
The door went down with a crash. Dean stumbled through, mouth opening in a scream when he saw Sam lying still in a pool of blood.
"No! No no no no no!"
The insane woman's ghost was shrieking something but Dean ignored her. More spirits were flooding into the room behind him, spirits of the victims of Winchester rifles. They'd promised to keep the lunatic occupied while he got Sam out.
They'd made him promise something in return, but that hadn't been a hardship. It was something Dean had been planning to do anyway.
He dropped to his knees by his brother. He didn't know if it was a good idea to move Sam, but he didn't have much of a choice. He'd broken the door, but in this crazy house who knew if it would stay broken.
He grabbed Sam under the arms, hauling him out into the corridor.
"Sam!"
Sluggish pulse. Shallow, weak breathing.
Had he been in time?
"Sammy, please. Come on."
Oh, God, so much blood.
"Come on, Sammy. Wake up for me. Please, Sammy."
Sam stirred, hazel eyes opening to slits.
"Dean?"
Dean almost sobbed with relief.
"Yeah. I'm here. I'm so sorry, Sam, I was almost too late. If you'd died because of that stupid bitch…"
"Sarah Winchester?"
"No. Clare. Wanted the rifle to kill something or other that came after her husband. Pistol-whipped me and took it - oh, I'm fine, it's you I'm worried about. Come on, kiddo. Let's get you out of here."
Dean helped Sam sit up, waiting until his brother was supported against his chest before looking up at little Bucky, a ghost who had reminded him horribly of Sam as a child, conjuring up terrible visions of what might have happened if any of the things their Dad had hunted had ever managed to get at his brother.
"We're going to patch you up, Sammy," Dean said. "Then we're going to hunt Clare Humphries down, take the rifle from her, and burn it. And if she argues we're going to stab her."
Bucky smiled at him.
Sam's fingers closed around a handful of his shirt.
Dean smiled back at Bucky, murmured comforting nonsense to Sam, and thought happily about stabbing Clare Humphries while he waited for Sam to gather enough strength to try to get to his feet.
THE END