The Huntress -Chapter 11
Freeport, June 24
Sam shut the door of Bobby’s car way harder than was necessary, walking toward the house with giant footsteps, undoing the knot of his tie at the same time.
Freaking cheap suit.
“Sam,” Bobby warned behind him.
“What? WHAT, Bobby? M’telling you, that supposed witness we just interrogated was the last one. And it was another dead end!”
“Try to calm down before going inside.”
Sam shook his head and released his death grip on the door knob, then brushed his hair away from his face. “Yeah… Yeah, I…”
But he couldn’t. He started pacing on the small porch, breathing hard through his nose.
“It’s been nine days! Nine fucking days and we aren’t any closer than we were when he first disappeared.”
“I know, boy.”
“We have to find him, Bobby, I can’t…”
Bobby stepped up on the porch, scratching his beard. He looked like he’d aged several years in the last week. Sam knew he didn’t look much better.
“We will.”
“How?” Sam murmured.
“I don’t know, but we will. Now, think about the kid who's waiting for you inside, okay? You need to calm down. She’s disturbed enough as it is.”
“Yeah.” Sam sighed deeply and forced himself to stop. His hands were clenching and unclenching spasmodically. Sue, he told himself. Think about her.
Sue with her dull eyes and her constant crying fits, Sue who had spent the first three days that her daddy had been missing just repeating Dean’s name each time she’d heard a noise or Sam took her somewhere. Then, she’d stopped all of a sudden, like she somehow understood that her father wouldn’t just reappear magically. She was quiet now. Quiet and sad, the look in her green eyes too serious for one so young.
She needed Sam so much.
Now that they were…
No, no no no no, Sam thought, biting the inside of his cheeks until he tasted blood. Don’t start thinking like that.
How, how was he supposed to think? With Bobby and Ellen's help, he had spent a week researching and interrogating and digging and they weren’t any closer to finding Dean than they had been nine days ago.
They had started methodically enough, with the facts, checking and double checking everyone Dean and Sam had meet in the last two years, going wider in their research as the days went by. Clover and her family had been clean, as had Rania, and Maria Baker, Sam and Dean’s employers and Sam’s co-workers. Nothing had been left to chance. They had listened to the news, checked the admittance logs at the local hospital, looked for strange articles in the papers and on the internet. They had interrogated people who had witnessed strange occurrences in the area. Bobby had contacted other hunters and some useful friends.
Nothing. Dean had vanished into thin air.
The trouble was they'd had to remain discreet during their quest to find Dean. They didn’t want other hunters to find out about what had happened because with the possible help would come an undesired question: how had a hunter as tough as Dean Winchester been abducted? Sam knew too well what it was like to be the center of unwanted attention, having been hunted himself. The Winchester’s reputation was a delicate matter as it stood since Azazel had been killed and Dean had been mysteriously saved from a deal with a crossroads demon.
So, they had to investigate while keeping to themselves as much as possible, without mentioning that Dean was actually missing. What had broken into their home and taken Dean away wasn’t some demon seeking revenge or a driven monster of some kind. It was a human. The wards around their house would have stopped anything supernatural.
Only Rania knew the truth. She was desperate to help and seriously worried about Dean’s condition. She didn't say much in front of Sam, but sometimes silence was more revealing than words.
Nine fucking days and Sam was losing his mind.
Not now. Your daughter is waiting for you inside.
He let Bobby enter first and followed him. Ellen was in the kitchen. When she saw the two of them she shook her head sadly and they knew it meant she hadn’t found anything new.
“Sue’s in the living room in her play pen. She wouldn't take her nap this afternoon,” Ellen told Sam.
Sam took his jacket off and went to find his little girl, who was playing with her set of plastic blocks without any enthusiasm. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, bending over the pen.
She stretched her arms toward him with a little smile and he took her, pressing her against his chest and kissing the top of her head. Sue looked up at him and said, “Daa-dee-dee, ‘kay?”
It was clear that what she meant was: I want my dad now, okay? Sam swallowed the lump in his throat and took her to the kitchen, talking about how hungry she must be and asking if she’d like to take a bath with bubbles that night.
He wanted Dean back too. Now. It was a physical ache burning deep inside of him, that only got worse when he saw how much her father's absence affected Sumiko.
::: :::
Sumiko fell asleep in Sam’s arms. Since Dean’s disappearance, Sam had to rock her to sleep every night. When he got back downstairs, Bobby and Ellen were finishing with the dinner dishes and cleaning the kitchen. Sam didn’t even think about helping them. He sat in the living room with all the notes he’d made about Dean’s disappearance, all the dreams he could remember Dean telling him about, all the incidents concerning their unborn baby and attempted messages to them. He had written down the transcript of the hypnosis session and watched the video several times.
The answer was there, somewhere. Sam knew it. He shifted through his notes, searching for that one missing piece that would make it all clear.
Dean’s nightmares about being hunted in the woods.
The sleepwalking incidents. During the first one, Dean had acted like he was trapped somewhere. He’d mentioned a Dianna, who, Sam suspected, was none other than the Roman goddess of the Hunt. It fit with the nightmares.
There had been another one that had troubled Dean so much, one in which he had been trapped somewhere, heavily pregnant and feeling sick. Something wanted the baby and he couldn’t do anything about it, he’d told Sam.
Each time Sam read his notes on this particular dream, he felt his breath catch in his chest. If the dreams Angie had sent were true, Dean was exactly in this position right now, and to imagine that was almost unbearable.
The most important of Angie’s attempts at warning them, though, was definitely the hypnosis session. Every single thing she’d said through Dean had been about the abduction.
Sam sighed and looked at his transcript. He'd separated each sentence, or fragment of sentence, trying to put the puzzle together.
Dean had been right. It seemed as though Angie’s method of sending messages was to pick phrases from Dean’s brain, his past experiences.
Watch out for your brother, Dean, a sentence that John had repeated again and again when they'd been kids. It would’ve been easy for the baby to pick up on it. To try and use that phrase to warn them.
Watch out for your brother.
Watch out.
And then during the grocery store incident, once again Angie had used words that Dean had heard or used himself many times. Be careful. It’s sharp. Hurts. To warn them of the lights about to fall on the cherry stall.
Simple enough. It was so simple with hindsight.
Then, Angie/Dean had spoken about a vessel. You’re a vessel, Dean. That’s what Maria Baker had told him. A host for supernatural beings. Later in the session, it had been repeated again and again.
A vessel. Was there more to it than to permit the special connection between Dean and the baby? Was it something you became or something you were born with, and was Angie a vessel as well?
After that, Dean had become really anxious as he kept repeating watch out for your brother.
Once he’d even said: watch out for your brother, Sammy. Had the message been directed to him?
Take your brother outside as fast as you can was another way of warning Sam and Dean about a danger, something that was about to happen to one of them. An ever approaching, life-threatening danger.
"Dad is gone you gotta help me find him dad is gone dad, dad the huntress is coming she no! No, stop stop please, Dianna. Watch out for your brother, Sammy. Can’t see shit in this it hurts!”
Sam could still hear the panic in Dean’s voice as the baby tried to get through to them. Saying something like “you gotta help me find dad” was referring to Dean's disappearance, Sam could see that now.
The huntress - Dianna - had been coming and Sam had to watch out for Dean.
He hadn’t been watching out for his brother, not in the way that would have prevented his abduction.
Sam’s hands started to shake as he read the rest of the transcript.
…Please help me.
…Please help us.
…Hurts daddy please…
“Damn it, Dean. I’m so sorry,” Sam whispered.
No. Had to concentrate. Couldn’t allow himself to let go and just feel the pain. That wouldn’t help Dean or Angelia.
He looked at the words he’d underlined.
Huntress.
Dianna.
Vessel.
Dark sister.
Hurts.
It was so simple. So simple really. She should have been his primary suspect from the beginning.
She was a woman, a huntress who'd been in contact with them during Dean's pregnancy, even if only briefly. From the information Bobby had given him, he knew she'd had a sister. The baby had reacted strongly to her.
Isabelle Marchand.
She could’ve seen Dean’s file on Rania’s desk. She could’ve guessed something.
Sam had no idea why she wanted Dean and the baby. He didn’t care.
He had a more difficult problem.
Marchand was dead. Her body had been burned to a crisp. Only a few bones had been found. Bobby had spoken for a long time with Jason Shatner after having cleared him from any suspicion and there was no way the woman could’ve escaped the fire. Shatner had wanted to know why Bobby was so interested in Marchand, but Bobby had remained vague.
Still. Sam couldn’t get her out of his head. Mostly because he didn’t have any other leads.
Something just didn't add up.
::: :::
Nine days. Dean shivered and tried to bury himself deeper under the covers. The fever wouldn’t go down despite the Tylenol Isabelle had been feeding him for the last two days.
His nose was running and he had a harsh, painful cough. It wasn’t a cold. He could feel pressure in his chest on the right side and a rattle there each time he breathed.
He just hoped it was bronchitis, not pneumonia. The room where he was being kept was cold and humid. God only knew what bug was lingering around.
Isabelle was nervous. Dean tried his best to eat and not to appear too sick in her presence because he was scared Charlotte would decide to take action. He knew he was getting worse, though.
He fell asleep around dinner time, dreamed of being torn apart and woke up screaming, trying to catch his breath, but unable to get the air as deeply into his lungs as he wanted to.
Isabelle bent over him, scratching her forehead.
“Your fever is still high,” she said.
“I think I need meds,” Dean rasped, feeling so bad he couldn’t pretend anymore. “This isn’t good for the baby.”
“Get up, eat your dinner. It’s getting cold.”
Dean slowly sat up and was hit by a dizzy spell. By the time he got it under control, the cough was back. He held his chest with one hand, his belly with the other, and just let it out. A sudden slap on his left cheek startled him and he hissed a shaky breath, looking up at Isabelle.
“Stop it. You… stop that. Now. Eat.”
She looked terrified, pressing the handle of her gun to her forehead.
“This… we don’t like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen, it…”
A sudden purple flash passed through her eyes. She quickly moved away from Dean who held his breath despite the pain.
“You eat!” Isabelle screamed. “Charlotte wants you to eat.”
She closed the door and Dean grabbed his pillow to muffle his coughing fit. The thought of eating made his stomach churn, but he would, not because of Isabelle and the thing inside of her, but for Angie.
We’ll get through this, he told her. I’ll get you through this, baby. Sam’s coming to get us.
::: :::
Freeport, June 26
The afternoon sun was bright. Sam was sitting on the grass in the garden, watching Sumiko as she played in a small plastic pool Ellen had bought her. She was clapping her hand on the surface of the water, smiling when it splashed, but she wasn’t as excited as she usually got about such things. Sometimes, she would raise her head and look at Sam thoughtfully, like she knew something wasn’t right and didn’t know how to react to it.
Sam took a small plastic cup and filled it with water before letting it drizzle slowly onto Sue’s thighs. She giggled and tried to grab the trickle of water.
“See, it’s fun, right? You’ve got your own pool you lucky girl.”
Sue blinked and pouted, and for a moment, it was like she was torn between laughing and crying.
“Love you so much,” Sam bent to kiss the tip of her nose.
His cell phone rang and he answered before the end of the first ring, never turning his gaze away from Sumiko.
“Bobby?”
The old hunter was somewhere in Rhode Island meeting Rufus Turner who, apparently, had maybe heard something about a hunter gone rogue.
“Is this Sam Winchester?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Listen, Bobby Signer left me this number to call if I had some more information about-“
“Who are you?” Sam insisted coldly and Sumiko flinched.
“Jason Shatner. Listen, what’s all this sudden interest in Isabelle’s death? Because-“
Sam stopped breathing.
“What’s sort of information do you have?”
“I’m not sure she’s dead.”
::: :::
After five minutes of standing up in the shower stall, Dean had to let himself slide against the wall to sit on the floor because he was coughing too hard to keep his balance.
Come on, man, keep it together.
The water was barely warm. He was still burning with fever and knew he had to lower his body temperature despite the discomfort, so he stayed there as long as he could, letting the water slide over his head and down his body. Had to keep his head clear, he kept telling himself.
He didn’t know what day it was anymore.
“Get out of there, now!”
Isabelle’s voice startled him. She was on edge. Charlotte kept appearing in her eyes. Dean struggled as quickly as he could to stand up and turn off the tap. She took his arm and yanked him out, handing him a towel.
“Come on, dry yourself and get dressed. I got you antibiotics.”
Dean did as he was told. It seemed easier just to obey, to concentrate on what he had to do. He stumbled back to the room, dressed in the old sweats she had given him, his hair dripping wet, arms wrapped around himself to try and ease the shivers that were wracking his body.
There were two orange pills on the table next to a glass of water. Isabelle was back near the door.
“You didn’t eat all of your lunch,” she said.
“Sor-ry,” he mumbled.
He had tried, really, but he hadn't been able to manage more than a few bites.
“Take the pills.”
Dean took the pills and swallowed them with the water. Then he headed to the bed. He was so, so tired, felt heavy and numb.
“You’re not supposed to be sick,” Isabelle said. “Why are you doing this? The baby’s still too young. She’s not ready!”
He apologized again and lay on his side. He was hit by another harsh, coughing spell and his vision blacked out. He felt something snap deep inside his stomach, then the baby moved, a couple of soft kicks to the right side of his belly.
Yeah, that’s right, baby. Hang in there, he thought, breathing through the white hot pain burning in his chest.
::: :::
“Slow down, Sam. I can't understand a word you’re saying.”
Sam huffed and kept pacing in the kitchen. He could hear Sumiko crying in the living room, but Ellen was with her. He tried to shut the noise of his daughter's sobbing out of his brain and took a deep breath.
“He said he kept thinking about the questions you asked him the last time he talked to you and since Isabelle had been acting really strangely the last weeks before her death, he couldn’t get the conversation out of his mind.”
“What kind of strange?”
“I… he said she was withdrawn and kept to herself more than usual. She was living in a trailer, and would meet up with Jason when one of them found a potential hunt… But when Jason called her about the poltergeist, she didn’t seem interested which was surprising because usually she jumped at the opportunity to hunt. She took it very seriously.”
“Okay, but what makes him think she may be still alive?”
“He went back to Jefferson City. The bones found in the house weren't identified right after the fire and, by the time they were, Jason had fled the scene. There was no reason for him to doubt Isabelle was dead. He… he said he heard her screaming.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“The bones belonged to a young prostitute who had disappeared from the area the day before the fire, Bobby.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. Jason said the fire was pretty bad and that it was possible that Isabelle had still died, but that her bones had been completely consumed. But he had no idea what the body of a prostitute was doing in there. He and Isabelle had been alone. The owner of the house had left to let them work.”
“She faked her own death?”
“Maybe. Maybe she needed to. Maybe she had a plan and… Fuck, I don’t know, but it’s worth checking into, right? I mean… You said her father had run away from France because he was into blood magic.”
“I said he had came here because the authorities were interested in him. If he was a hunter, of course he was interested in magic.”
“That's bullshit!” Sam yelled, punching the wall as hard as he could.
Bobby stood up. “Calm down. I’m only trying to be the reasonable one here. It is worth checking, Sam. But I don’t want you to get your hopes too high.”
“That’s all I have!” Sam protested, surprised to find himself close to tears. “We have to find him, Bobby. We have to find him now. It’s already been too long.”
“I know.” Bobby looked him straight in the eyes. “Did Jason say anything else?”
“I asked… I asked if Isabelle had a place where she would go sometimes. I mean, he freaking drove her camping car with everything that was in it into a fucking lake after he thought she'd died… didn’t want the cops to find it and start asking questions.”
“That was wise.”
“Wise, yeah, but now, if there were any clues in it, they’re lost… But… he said that she once mentioned a cabin she used to go to with her father and sister sometimes. Called it Dianna’s Retreat. Dianna. Just like in the dreams and during the hypnosis session. Isabelle never told Jason the exact location, only said that it was in the New England area.”
“You do realize this is like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“I don’t care.”
Bobby sighed and took off his cap. “Okay. Okay, Sam, let’s get to work.”
::: :::
June 27
The spoon was coming toward him and he opened his mouth, but as soon as the puree was inside him, his stomach flipped and he threw up the few spoonful he had managed to keep down so far.
The hands that were holding him started to press harder on his arm and back, then shook him violently.
“Stop it, you stop it! You’re doing that on purpose!”
He tried to apologize, but started coughing instead.
It hurt so bad.
He was so cold.
He wanted to sleep.
Why would Sam leave him here?
“Now I have to wash you. Do you think this is funny? You think this is funny, you fucker!”
She let go of his body and he crumpled on the bed. Isabelle’s voice sounded strange, like it was doubled with another, lower one.
She was crazy. Charlotte, Isabelle. All the same.
He wanted to tell them to stop, that he wanted to get better, that he had to, for the baby, but he couldn’t muster the energy to speak.
He lay there and waited for them to clean him up.
::: :::
June 28
“It’s a bust!”
Sam closed the door of the rickety shack in the middle of the woods and, for a moment, it wobbled as if the whole thing would come crashing down. Ellen came from around the back, her hair a damp mess, her face red and dripping with sweat. It was hot, even under the cover of the leafy canopy above them.
“Yeah, there’s no one here. Maybe Bobby and Rufus will have more luck.”
“We don’t even know where to look.”
They were in the middle of the Catskills, having followed a tip from someone who knew someone who though there was a hunter's hiding spot nearby. The place was in bad shape, ready to collapse, and it was evident that no one had been here in years.
Sam sat on a tree stump and pulled his hair away from his face. He felt exhausted and sick to his stomach, short of breath.
“Okay, we still have time to check one last spot today,” Ellen said, refusing to get discouraged. “Come on, Sam.”
“It’s been two weeks, Ellen.”
“I know. That’s why we have to keep going. Come on, honey, we’ll find him.”
::: :::
June 29
Charlotte’s hands hurt him so much when they slipped inside of him to get to the baby and he thought he yelled, although he wasn’t sure.
Didn’t know anything anymore, curled up on the bed, trying to breathe, just trying to keep on breathing.
“You’re too sick. The baby is suffering, you’re gonna ruin everything!”
Isabelle, roughly wiping his face.
Leave me alone, he thought. Leave us alone.
And then he was alone with no knowledge of how much time had passed. He was thirsty, but he couldn’t keep anything down.
Where was he?
Sam. Sumiko. Was Sumiko safe?
He floated. For a long time.
He longed to have that connection back again, with the baby. The baby was suffering. His fault. He was trying to get better, he just couldn’t.
Fucking golden threads.
He’d cut them.
Closing his eyes - or were they already closed? He didn’t know anymore. They were burning hot, like the rest of him.
He saw the rope. White and solid, but the golden threads weren’t there anymore.
If Angelia could only feel him, could know that he was trying to protect her, that he was there with her.
The golden threads wouldn’t come back, no matter how hard he tried to imagine them.
He was going to die.
The rope changed in his mind, something flickered, a flash of color mixing with all the white.
And for a moment, the whole rope glistened gold.
::: :::
The map of Maine state was deployed on the coffee table and Bobby was marking some area with an 'X', mumbling on the phone. Rufus Turner was at the other end of the line. He’d been the only hunter Bobby trusted enough to ask for help and he’d come. He’d already met Dean once, knew the Winchesters by reputation, and had been okay with the little information Bobby had been able to give him - Dean had been kidnapped. The end.
Sam hoped this Rufus guy knew how to hold his tongue.
Sumiko made a small bubble of saliva and settled more closely on his chest. It was the middle of the afternoon and she hadn’t wanted be left in her crib for her nap. For the last couple of days, she’d spent most of her time at Rania’s while the rest of them looked for Dean, and now she held onto Sam like she was afraid he would disappear too.
Sam and Ellen had come back from the Catskills late in the night and he was having trouble staying awake, numbed by a sense of helplessness he couldn't fight anymore. The voice in his mind that was saying it was too late was getting more insistent.
“There you go,” Ellen said, putting a cup of coffee on the floor next to him. She sighed and sat next to Bobby.
She was as exhausted as Sam, dark circles under her eyes, tension lines around her mouth. Exhausted and sad. Even Bobby was starting to look like he was working for a desperate cause.
And then…
Sam didn’t really know how it happened. One second, he was sitting in the living room chair with Sumiko on his lap, then there was a flash, like somebody had taken a picture, and he felt like something was lifting him from the ground, a tingling sensation running all over him. A soft pounding started behind his eyes and in his temples, like the beginning of a vision but without the pain.
He found himself standing in a small clearing, under a sky covered with white clouds, a soft wind blowing through the trees.
“We’re here.” A little girl’s voice said.
Sam realized he was holding a smaller hand, warm and soft. He lowered his head and saw a little girl who couldn’t be more than five or six. She had dark brown, wavy hair, a round pale face with big grey eyes and a nose covered in freckles. She wore a white corduroy dress with a small flower pattern, something Sam recognized from one of the pictures Jessica had from her childhood and kept on a dresser in the apartment they'd shared.
“Angelia,” he said without a doubt.
He wondered for a second if his second daughter would really look like this, or if she’d picked stuff from his brain to represent herself. She had John’s hair and a certain resemblance to him, Dean’s nose and mouth, Mary’s eyes -according to the photos Sam had seen anyway.
“I don’t know,” she answered his unspoken question. “I don’t know how I do it.”
She smiled at him, tilting her head. Her eyes remained serious. “You need to hurry, dad. Dean isn’t doing well. Me neither. We’re sick.”
“I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry. I can’t find you.”
“We’re there.”
Angelia raised her free arm and pointed right in front of her and, suddenly, there was a cabin there, more of a small house really, looking solid and well kept.
“But I don’t-“
And then they weren’t standing in the clearing anymore. They were crouching in front of a small window near the ground. Angelia pressed her hand against it and whatever blocked the view disappeared.
“Look. Daddy’s sick.” Angelia murmured in a sad small voice.
Sam saw Dean lying on a bed, shivering under a thin blanket. He had one arm wrapped around his head and was coughing into his pillow.
“Oh god.”
“We don’t have much time,” Angie told him as a tear slid down her cheek. “You have to hurry.”
“But I can’t find you! Where are you, baby, please, tell me.”
“Not very far from home. They’ve always liked the town because it’s named after the great city of the Antiquity. They’re hiding behind the hill of the Fox, just where the lake ends.”
“What’s the name of the town? Angie, tell me I can’t…”
“I don’t know. Be careful. She’s hiding inside her.”
Sam floated. The sky and forest disappeared and Angelia passed through him, the fragile glimpse of a life that hadn't even started yet. Sam called for her.
“Hey, son, you back? Sam!”
He was lying on the floor in the living room. Sumiko was crying, Bobby was bent over him, shaking his shoulders.
Sam wiped at the blood dripping from his nose and grabbed Bobby’s arm.
“Give me the map.”
“What?”
“Damn it, Bobby, just give it to me.”
Sam sat, fighting a dizzy spell and the dull pain throbbing behind his eyes. Sumiko was squirming in Ellen’s arms, stretching her arms toward him.
Not now.
He grabbed the map frantically and looked at it for a few seconds before he spotted it. There it was, it couldn’t be anywhere else.
“Athens. That’s where she's keeping him. It’s not too far from Portland”, he rasped, squinting his eyes to look at the small print.
He read what he was looking for in a shaking voice. “Oh. My god. It’s there. Fox Hill Road.”
::: :::
They had to get prepared and drop Sumiko off at Rania’s. As soon as she heard what was going on, Rania left the hospital where she worked to go home and get everything ready for Dean. Bobby wanted to bring Rufus along, but Sam wouldn't allow it. Too many people would draw too much attention and he didn’t want a hunter he didn’t know to see his brother so vulnerable, not to mention pregnant.
They were three experienced hunters. They knew where they were going. They would be fine.
They would bring Dean back, alive, Sam kept telling himself while they drove to Athens.
He still didn’t know what Isabelle Marchand wanted from Dean, from the baby. Was she after the baby’s powers?
How had she learned about them in the first place?
He told Bobby and Ellen that they may need to be prepared for something supernatural, something related to Isabelle’s sister. Angelia had told him that they liked the town, and to be careful because she was hiding inside her. Dean had had a vision of sisters when they had met Isabelle Marchand and had said “dark sister” during his hypnosis session.
They still didn’t know what they would be facing. Bobby thought it might be some kind of ghost or spirit. They were ready for anything.
When they arrived in the small town of Athens night was falling. They found the information easily enough. The only lake near Fox Hill Road was called Morris Lake. A waitress pointed it out to them on the map.
Once they were on the dirt road, they had to go five kilometers before reaching the lake. According to Sam’s vision, the cabin would be located at the far side of the lake. They didn’t want Isabelle to hear them coming, so they parked the Impala under the cover of the trees, one kilometer before reaching the lake.
They walked side by side in silence, each carrying a gun.
Sam had to keep himself from running. His whole body was thrumming with a sense of urgency. They were close. He knew it. There wasn’t the shadow of a doubt in his mind.
He was glad Bobby and Ellen hadn’t questioned his vision, just went with him and followed his lead. The image of Angelia wouldn’t leave his mind, neither would the one of Dean crumpled on a bed.
We’re sick. You have to hurry.
They would arrive in time.
They would.
::: :::
The night was clear and a thin crescent moon was shining on the lake. Sam spotted a path near the end of the body of water, to the left. They followed it and it was only a matter of minutes before they saw some light between the trees.
There was the clearing. And the house. A small rusty car was parked near it. There was a light illuminating the porch and some from inside the cabin as well.
Sam saw a small window near the ground. It was covered from the inside just like in the vision Angie had given him.
He started running, indifferent to Bobby and Ellen's muffled calls of his name.
He just couldn’t wait anymore.
Sam ran directly up onto the porch and literally threw himself against the door, which opened easily with a loud “crack.”
“Dean!” He called while pointing his gun in front of him.
He was in a large room, half kitchen, half living-room.
Isabelle Marchand was two feet away from him, pointing a gun right back at him. She looked mad, all of her body shaking violently, her eyes sunken and her face covered in sweat. Her hair was haphazardly tucked into a greasy bun on the top of her head, her clothes were dirty.
There wasn’t anything left of the sharp looking hunter he’d met so briefly at Rania's.
“Where’s my brother?” He asked, his voice firm and assured.
“You're too late,” she said as she pressed her free hand on her forehead. “Just leave me alone!” She screamed.
“Get out of the way or I’ll shoot you.”
“You can’t! Can’t shoot me!” It was Isabelle’s lips that were moving, but the voice wasn’t hers. It seemed to come from out of nowhere.
Sam saw a flash of purple sparks and was shoved so brutally that he fell backwards and his head hit the floor hard enough to make his vision blur.
“Stop it, Charlotte!” Isabelle screamed.
Then, everything happened very fast. Ellen was waving a tire iron while standing over Sam and a gun was fired.
The force that had pushed him exploded against him in thousands of prickling sparks when the iron went through it. Ellen helped him up before the last of the current had even dissipated.
“Stay near me, Sam,” she said, spilling some salt around them.
Bobby was slowly advancing toward Isabelle’s crumpled body on the floor and Sam realized that the gun shot had been meant to incapacitate her. She was still alive, but blood was seeping from her right leg.
“What’s the deal with the ghost?” Bobby asked, gun pointed at her chest.
“Is my brother here?” Sam couldn’t help but interrupt.
“Sam, calm down,” Ellen whispered.
“She’s my sister,” Isabelle moaned. She… I can’t control her anymore. She hurts him, she wants to take the baby out now…”
Another wave of purple sparks exploded in the air right behind Bobby.
“Watch out!” Ellen screamed, stepping outside the salt line to wave the iron bar right through the energy mass.
There was a deafening vibration in the air, like a magnetic scream. Bobby didn’t move. Sam stepped out of the salt circle as well. He had to get to the woman who had abducted his brother.
He kneeled next to her despite Bobby’s warning. “Where’s my brother?”
“Basement… the trap door is in the back room… Fuck it hurts… Charlotte…”
Tears were now slipping down Isabelle’s cheeks. Her eyes were rolling, shifting from blue to an unnatural shade of purple.
“How do we stop her… your sister. Come on, answer me!” Bobby said gruffly.
“No way to without…. She’s tied to my soul… Old magic. Gotta kill me.”
Sam stood up just as another mass of electric sparks appeared in the room, bigger this time, like a lightning strike cracking in the air.
He took his gun, pointed at Isabelle’s forehead, and shoot. He tried to feel some compassion for her as he saw her body jerk one last time, but all he felt was a cold anger.
Bobby and Ellen stood still for a few seconds. Sam dropped his gun next to the body and turned his back on them, running to the back of the cabin.
There was a trap door wide open there, revealing a narrow staircase. Sam went down, almost tripping over his own feet.
At the bottom was a small space with a thick door barred with a series of locks. There was a window in it. Sam took a look and saw what Angelia had shown him.
Dean, lying on a bed, shivering under a blanket.
He must be seriously sick, to not even move from his spot after all the screaming and the gunshots.
“Dean!” Sam yelled.
His brother didn’t so much as turn to look at him.
“He’s here!” he called over his shoulder, then began opening the locks.
The last one needed a key, but sure enough, it was hanging on a nail fixed in the wall. Sam’s hands were shaking so badly he had to try five times before fitting the key in its hole.
The door swung open and he barged into the cold room, immediately assaulted by the smell: sweat and humidity, something that was purely sickness, a stinking combination of acrid sweetness.
“Dean,” Sam whispered, shocked.
He walked to the bed and sat on it, uncovering the upper part of his brother’s body.
Dean's eyes were shut and he mumbled something that Sam couldn't make out. His face was a greenish white, the skin around his eyes swollen and purplish. His lips were chapped so badly there were bloody creases in them.
He looked thin and lost in a dirty shirt that seemed several sizes too big for him.
“God, Dean. Hey, come on, look at me.”
Sam pressed his hand against his forehead, finding it burning with fever. Dean moaned and tried to fight the touch, murmuring something that sounded like leave me alone.
“Hey, it’s Sam. It’s me. You’re safe.”
Dean tried to turn away from him, but could barely move. He was then shaken by a fit of coughing, grimacing in pain. The rattling coming from his labored breathing was an awful sound to hear.
Sam gathered Dean’s upper body into his arm to help with his breathing. After tensing briefly, Dean went lax in Sam’s arms.
“Oh god,” Ellen said, startling Sam who hadn't heard her coming. “We gotta get him to Rania.”
Sam tried to answer, but what came out of his mouth was a harsh sob. Fuck he wasn’t going to cry, not right now.
“Bobby, go get the car. We have to hurry,” Ellen snapped at the older man where he stood in the doorway. He obeyed without a word, looking as shocked as she did.
“We gotta get him to drink, he looks dehydrated,” Ellen said.
“Dean, come on. Open your eyes. Look at me,” Sam said, brushing his fingers over Dean’s throat until he found the pulse on his carotid artery. It was very quick, but weak, difficult to find.
“I’m sorry, so sorry. We’re going to get you out of here.”
For the first time, Sam allowed himself to look down at Dean’s belly and pressed his hand against it. “Daddy’s here, Angie. It’s going to be okay.”
He wished for a kick, a light flutter, something, but nothing came.
Ellen was back with some damp towels and a glass of water.
“He won’t drink. He’s not even conscious.”
“Let’s try, okay? We have to wait for Bobby to bring the car, anyway.”
Dean’s eyes opened to slits. His pupils were blown, almost entirely dark. “’ve me alone,” he said again, trying to get away from Sam.
Sam grabbed the cold towel Ellen was handling him and rubbed it gently on his brother’s face. Dean jerked and moaned, then leaned toward it, his mouth opening and his pale and swollen tongue trying to lick at the towel.
“Okay, you’re thirsty, we’ve got some water for you, Dean,” Sam smiled nervously, propping Dean’s body against himself and letting Ellen get the glass close to Dean’s mouth.
Dean tried to open his eyes wider and whispered Sam’s name.
“Yeah, that’s right, it’s me. You’re safe now.”
Ellen let slip a small quantity of water through Dean’s lips. He swallowed eagerly and tried to stifle a cough that was making his chest heave.
“That’s good, sweetie, that’s really good,” Ellen said in a soft voice.
She looked at Sam, her features tensed in worry. “It sounds like pneumonia. Come on, we’ve got to get him upstairs. The damp air down here can’t be good for him. Bobby will be here soon.”
Sam grabbed another blanket from the bed and wrapped Dean in it, then stood up with his brother in his arms, pressed against him. Bridal style. Less than three weeks ago, he’d made a joke about it and Dean had laughed. Now, his brother was a dead weight, his body so hot, still wracked by incessant shivers, eyes rolling in the back of his head.
Sam suddenly wished he’d taken his time killing Marchand.
He went up the stairs, avoiding the walls carefully. His arms were shaking from the effort, but he ignored it. He spotted a worn-out couch and sat on it, keeping Dean’s upper body in his arms and arranging his legs carefully.
“Give me the water,” he told Ellen when he saw Dean’s eyes flickering open again.
Ellen did, telling him that she was calling Rania. Sam nodded distractingly.
“Dean, I’ve got water for you. You want to drink some more?”
Dean’s eyes tried to focus and, for a few seconds, he looked straight at Sam, opening his mouth.
Sam helped him with another sip. Dean almost chocked on it, but managed to swallow. “Careful…” he slurred, “Careful she's dangerous… Gotta… Sue… Where’s Sumiko?”
“Sumiko's safe,” Dean. “It’s alright. You got nothing to fear, okay?”
Dean opened his mouth and Sam made him drink a little more. It didn’t go as well this time. Dean choked and started coughing, a wet, labored sound that Sam could feel coming from the side of his lower chest.
Dean’s face turned a deep shade of red and he opened his mouth like a fish out of water, nostrils flaring.
“Ellen he’s choking!”
“Come on, Dean,” Ellen walked quickly next to him and helped Sam prop Dean up straighter. She rubbed his back and held his head up and, suddenly, Dean’s face relaxed and he took a long hiccupping breath.
“Hurts,” he mumbled, falling back against Sam’s chest.
“I know, baby, Bobby will be here s-“
She didn't even finish her sentence before the roar of the Impala broke the silence. “Let’s go,” Ellen said, helping Sam stand up, one arm around his back to stabilize him.
Sam didn’t really remember how he made his way to the Impala. Bobby helped him settle Dean in the back, “for christ’sake what did she do to him,” he groaned, giving way to Sam who sat near his brother and propped him up so that his head could rest on his thighs. Ellen covered Dean with another blanket, one that Sam didn’t recognize.
Then they were speeding down the dirt road. Dean was now moaning almost constantly, trying to stay awake. He was visibly confused and in a significant amount of pain, but the difficulty he had with breathing, and the fever, were what Sam worried about the most.
“Hang in there, Dean,” Sam told him, brushing his fingers through his brother’s greasy bangs.
He let his other hand rest on Dean’s belly, waiting for a sign from the baby, but Dean was breathing too fast to feel anything over the stuttered inhales and panted exhales.
“Sue’s safe,” Dean suddenly said, his voice almost clear.
His eyes were open wide and he was trying to grab Sam’s shirt.
“Yes, yes she’s fine. She’s safe. You’ll get to see her soon.”
“Sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Stop it. Hey Dean, stay with me, alright?”
“Rania said it’s important to prevent him from shivering.” Ellen said from the passenger’s seat.
“But he’s burning hot.”
“The shivers will only make the fever rise and we have to try and keep him hydrated.”
Ellen was back on the phone with Rania. She handed a bottle of water to him from the front seat.
Sam started by wrapping Dean up in the two blankets as tightly as he could. “Dean, you’ with me?”
“She’s hurting her…” Dean groaned.
“What? Dean, listen to me, you’re safe. Do you hear me? Isabelle’s dead. Charlotte’s gone, you…”
“Fuck, leave her alone!” Dean screamed, then went back to moaning.
“Bobby you gotta drive faster,” Sam said between clenched teeth.
“Need to keep his airways open,” Ellen said.
“I’m not letting go of you, do you hear me, Dean?” Sam murmured in his brother’s ear. “We’re getting through this. Together.”
Sam would make sure of it.
::: :::
A/N: There is really a small town in Maine called Athens.
Chapter 12