Through a Long Hallway with a Broken Light 17/?
thanks to white_monarch for the beautiful new banner :)
Title: Through a Long Hallway With A Broken Light 17/?
Author: chrysrocks
Dedication: A birthday fic for yourxpridex
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Elias, Dean, Jane
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU
Word Count: 2986
Summary: North Dakota is a cold brutal place in the winter. Sam and Dean head there to find out what is slaughtering young women in their cars. Sam doesn't expect to meet the love of his life; Dean doesn't expect to find out his baby brother is gay, but a lot of things happen in a lifetime that one doesn't expect. Sometimes dealing with those things is scarier than finding out there really is a monster under the bed.
Disclaimer: Everything Kripke owns is his. The rest is mine. Please don't claim our stuff. Thanks.
Warning/Disclaimer: This story is an AU SPN and was written in the spirit of Season One. Please note that violence, and much other stuff in the tradition of Kripke and Co. are contained within this story. If you watch Supernatural you can read this fic, the violence and gore won't get worse than that. And Dude...If you don't watch it, why would you want to read?
Spoilers: Through season 2 and possibly for Sam's character throughout all aired episodes.
Credits: garvaldmains and kes1807 for reading and cheering, I'm not sure I could do it without you guys. Special thanks to yourxpridex for the header generator which worked beautifully.
Author's Notes: I made up the history of the Red River Valley.
Master List
Through a Long Hallway with a Broken Light 17
Dean parked the Impala where so they could get out again, unless too much snow piled up while they were inside hunting for the necklace. He’d heard of people putting mementos of loved ones in the urns with their ashes. Notes, locks of hair, he thought jewelry was probably the most popular. He was banking on the fact that someone had been feeling sentimental about this girl after they burned her. The necklace had to be here, he didn’t have anywhere else to look. Pushing negative thoughts aside, he grabbed the shotgun off the back seat and climbed out of the Impala and into the snow.
“If they figure out what we’re doing it’s going to get ugly in there.” He warned. Jane nodded and clutching a spare backpack followed him into the dark interior of the structure.
It was much darker inside than it had been outside surrounded by the white snow. Dean flipped the switch on the wall with no result. He clicked it several times before giving up with a sigh. He pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on; the small circle of light illuminated Jane’s worried face and he gave her a reassuring smile.
“This won’t take long.” He assured her. He moved the light over the far wall and gaped. Jane gasped, from floor to ceiling the marble wall was lined with narrow rectangular recesses. Each one held an identical urn. Made of dark wood, each was tall and thin with elaborately carved handles on the side. The stopper tops carved with the same intricacy, but the body of the urns were plain, the grain of the wood the only embellishment. Around the neck of each was a small gold chain with a tiny plaque, presumably engraved with the person’s name. Dean panned the light around the room revealing that all the walls were covered in a like manner. There were very few empty places and there had to be a couple hundred urns at least.
“OK this might take a little longer than I thought,” he admitted. Jane shook her head and took out another flashlight. It was going to take forever. Worry for the pair they’d left behind flashed through her and she wished she knew what was going on back there. Did Sam and Elias have enough time for them to find what they were looking for or was it going to end in disaster just because they couldn’t do the job fast enough. She felt like pulling out her hair. How did they survive doing this all the time?
“Too bad we can’t just burn them all.” She said her voice hard. Dean glanced at her and back at all the wood, it’d make a nice little bonfire and the necklace would either be burned if it was there, or it wouldn’t. He laughed; it’d warm things up. He was tired of freezing; he thought his feet had become permanent blocks of ice.
“Why can’t we?” he asked and started pulling the urns off the shelves. They shattered on impact with the marble floor. Jane hesitated, brief thoughts of grave desecration flitted through her mind, and then the alternative trying to read the little plaques by flashlight to find the one they needed.
“No reason I can think of,” she said and went to work on the other side of the mausoleum, knocking the urns to the floor and keeping half an eye out for sign of the necklace. Something flickered in the corner of her eye and Jane whirled around. “Uh, Dean?” she said but her voice cracked and he didn’t hear her over the crash as another urn hit the floor. She stared at the apparition of a young woman flickering in the corner. It wasn’t Kelli, Jane didn’t know who it was, though she looked familiar. Before Jane could call for Dean again, one of the urns in niche near the ghost shuddered and fell to the floor. The ghost disappeared as suddenly as she’d appeared but something glinted silver in the brief flash of Jane’s flashlight, and with a gasp she rushed over to see what it was.
“Dean,” she yelled, “Dean I’ve got it!” she yelled and bent down to scoop up the medallion laying half buried in the ashes. It hung from a leather cord that was stiff with age and disuse. She shined the light on medallion and studied it. Her brow furrowed as she tried to make out what it was. Dean was at her side in an instant. He glanced at it and shook his head.
“It figures,” he muttered, “The eye of Horus, lots of uses but mostly used to invoke protection or power.” He headed for his duffel to get the small can of gas he’d packed in it. “In this case probably both, they must be using the talisman to protect their threshold and increase their strength. Shouldn’t be holding them here, though. Bring it here, and let’s get this over with.”
“It’s not the medallion. It’s the blood.” A quiet voice caught their attention; Dean and Jane turned to see that the ghost had returned, she was in the same corner still unable to hold her form steady. “The necklace was used in a rite of passage in my family. Every male for generations has added his blood to the leather cord; they pledged themselves to serve after death.” She disappeared and then returned, “I am tied to it. An accident. If you destroy it I’ll be free. Finally free. Help me.” And she flickered out of sight again.
When Jane realized that the cord she held was saturated by the blood of hundreds of men she almost dropped it. She resisted the sudden squeamish feeling in her stomach and forced her fist to remain closed around it. Her eyes met Dean’s as a sense of triumph replaced the sick feeling.
“We did it,” she breathed, “this is really it.” He grinned back, and lifted the gas can out of his duffel. Between them ghosts began to flicker into sight. Jane had a lighter but Dean had the gas. She had to have it if she was going to get the necklace to burn. She thought she could run through them but she hesitated thinking of Elias, she remembered his screams, whatever they had done to him had hurt. Dean had his shotgun in hand and raised it to shoot but didn’t dare; the shot would pass through the ghosts and hit Jane.
“Down!” he yelled and she dropped. He fired. The ghosts flickered and re-manifested before he could reload. “Fuck!” Dean had given Sam all the lead shot; it had seemed like the thing to do at the time. He wished that he’d kept a few rounds for himself. They were so close if they could just burn the damn thing. “Jane,” he shouted, “Catch!” With no more warning than that Dean tossed her the small can and she caught it one handed.
“Got it!” she shouted.
“Good girl!” He yelled back, “Now burn it!” Her triumph was short-lived. The ghosts swarmed her. It felt like they were tearing her to pieces she screamed. And they were gone, Jane with them. The talisman still clutched in one hand, the gas can in the other. Her piercing shriek ringing in his ears Dean found himself standing alone in the midst of the ransacked mausoleum.
“Holy fuck,” he exclaimed, “I’m going to kill those damn ghosts.” He threw everything back into the duffel and headed for the car.
~*~
Jane was still screaming when they appeared in the cabin. She dropped to her knees and curled over her hands. Wracked with pain she was aware enough of what was happening to use her body to protect the necklace. She didn’t know if they could take it from her, but it seemed like they did anything they wanted. Jane had seen the baffled expressions on the faces of the hunters and knew that the ghosts weren’t normal. She was too terrified, her mind too busy with possible courses of action, to realize she had categorized ghost behavior as normal and abnormal.
Jane could hear Sam shouting over the wailing and screeching of the ghosts. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but relief that he was still alive flooded through her. She struggled to open the gas can without revealing what she was doing. When she poured it over the necklace, saturating the leather cord gas spilled over her legs but she was unconscious of the danger, all her attention was focused on destroying the talisman.
“Well, look what we have here.” The witch reappeared, looking more solid than a ghost had any right to. His black hood hung down his back, revealing his remarkable looks. He looked like he had stepped out of a fashion magazine. His blond hair swept back from his forehead, eyebrows perfectly arched over amused blue eyes. His finely cut features were at odds with the dark humor in his expression.
Sam watched events unfold from the safety of his nest with Elias. The room was marginally warmer, made so by the fire roaring in the stove. Elias was still cold and motionless in his arms. Sam’s eyes were fixed on where Jane knelt with her back to him. He couldn’t tell if she was injured. Dean was nowhere to be seen. Fear for his brother knotted his gut. Careful not to the cold air under the blankets he got to his feet, leaving Elias huddled alone on the floor. The bite of cold air on Sam’s bare skin was a discomfort he shoved to the back of his mind.
“Jane, where’s Dean?” he yelled, she either couldn’t hear him or was intent on ignoring him. She was moving but he couldn’t see what she was doing, “Jane what’s going on, did you find the necklace? Are you ok?” He started to move forward, but stopped at the edge of the circle. If he crossed the invocation would be broken, and only the circles of lead and salt would stand between Elias and whatever the ghosts had planned for him. The witch glanced over at Jane and then back at Sam, he seemed unconcerned.
“Your brother is alive.” He said, “As alive as you are, in fact there is a very simple way to keep the rest of you alive. Walking around and breathing, you know all that stuff you humans think is so important. Just give me the talisman and…” he inclined his head towards the bundled heap of blankets that concealed Elias. “That one, he’s done anyhow. We have unfinished business. He doesn’t have to be breathing to take care of it.” Sam stared at the boy in front of him; the witch didn’t appear to be more than 18 or 19, though his eyes burned with a hatred and knowledge that belied those years.
“Who are you?” Sam demanded, “What are you?” Before the witch could answer Winchell manifested behind him in all his serial killer glory. His clothes bloodstained, the dark bruise around his neck gave silent testimony of how he’d killed himself. The knife dripped blood onto the floor as he moved towards Jane. The scar across his face stood out in stark contrast to the dead white of his face.
“NO! JANE!” Sam’s shout startled Jane, but it got her attention. She scrambled to her feet the open can of gas falling unheeded to the floor, gas pooled under it. She held a Bic lighter in one hand and the necklace, leather cord dripping gas, in the other.
“I’ll burn it.” She hissed, “You stay away from me or so help me God I’ll burn this whole damn place to the ground. Fucking butcher.” Winchell froze, he stood between Sam and Jane solid enough that Sam couldn’t see her. Her vicious tone surprised Sam, maybe she was hard assed enough to be a hunter. Kelli appeared, manifested in all her bloody horror between Winchell and Jane.
“Leave her alone.” She hissed, but the threat was diluted by her flickering appearance. Winchell roared with laughter and used one hand to shred her manifestation.
“You bastard!” Jane screamed. Sam thought she might throw herself at him and braced for the worst, but he heard a small click and the ghost began to back off. A small pool of light flickering in the dark revealed that Jane had lit the lighter. Sam wondered if she was aware that it was the gas fumes that burned and not the gas itself. Highly combustible those fumes. He looked at the witch.
“Uh, think she’s gonna burn it.” Sam said and the young face of the witch contorted with frustration. His gaze was fixed on the mound of blankets but Jane demanded his attention. His eyes narrowed and he turned briefly towards Sam.
“No one lives.” He said it was not a threat. He moved to confront Jane. The lighter in her hand went out. The dark that followed was twice as bad even with the light from the fire burning in the stove without a grate. The end of the room where Jane stood was cast into shadow. The glimmering shapes of the ghosts obscured more than they revealed, packed into the room again as they were. Sam glanced down to the motionless blankets concealing Elias and then back at the corner where Jane was making her stand. He reached down and grabbed the shotgun. The first scream cut through the air like a scythe. He had to help her. It tore something inside him to leave Elias unprotected but he couldn’t let the ghosts have Jane. The roar of the shotgun filled the cabin and Sam stepped out of the circle. The ward around flashed violent purple, then red, then blue, and then it was gone.
“Bastards,” Sam growled pumping another shell into the chamber, “murdering bastards.” Jane screamed again. The wind blew the kitchen door and it banged against the wall. A second shotgun boomed and salt joined the lead flying through the air. The combination scattered the ghosts.
“Am I in time for the party?” Dean yelled, and Sam felt a tickle of relief down his spine. Dean was there. They could take care of business. Dean’s shoulder brushed Sam’s as they fired into the ghosts.
“Just in time,” Sam threw him a relieved grin. Just seeing his big brother bust in the door shouldn’t make him feel like everything was going to be OK, but it did. “Jane’s in that corner, she’s got the necklace. Elias is…” Sam hesitated and Dean’s eyes followed his to the motionless mound beside the word stove. Inside the twin circles was still free of ghosts. Sam hoped it’d stay that way. Dean’s shoulder brushed his.
“Jane first then,” was all Dean said, “stay here,” he plowed into the midst of the ghosts. They pulled and tore at him but Dean ignored them and walked through the ones that got in his way. Jane was crouched in a sobbing heap when he broke through. The leather cord from the necklace was wrapped around her hand and she held on tight, refusing to let go. The witch stood over her in his black cowl mumbling an incantation. Winchell had been after her and she was bleeding from several different wounds. So far he had withheld a killing strike but the places he had cut through the sleeves of her coat and through her jeans, bled freely.
“What the fuck? Voodoo ghost witch, what next?” Dean grumbled, “As if live mumbo jumbo crap isn’t bad enough. Buzz off asswipe.” He shot the witch with a round of salt that didn’t even get his attention, the incantation continued without pause. “Jane heads up!” Dean yelled. Jane’s head came up. Hope blazed in her eyes. She hadn’t realized he was there. “Here!” he yelled and held up his hand. She moved before the ghosts realized what she was going to do and threw the necklace to him with surprising accuracy. Dean closed his hand around it and pivoted on one foot.
“SAM!” he yelled he threw the talisman without looking for his brother. His aim was unerring. Sam caught it, and threw it into the stove with one smooth motion as if they had practiced for weeks. The fire roared out the front of the stove before it settled back down. The air rang with the shrieks of the ghosts as they dissipated, torn apart by the destruction of the only thing that had held them together in seconds they were all gone. All but one. The witch standing over Jane raised his head, his face hidden deep in the dark cowl of his robe. His eyes reflected red in the firelight. Dean stared back, rubbing the back of his neck.
“What the fuck are you still doing here?” he demanded.
“You think I would tie myself to such as those?” the young voice was filled with mockery. Sam stepped forward shotgun in one hand the iron grate in the other.
“I think whatever it takes; I’m going to kill you.” He said. The ghost let his hood fall back to reveal a good natured face, his eyes blue instead of red once more.
“No. I don’t think you are.” He said. The mobile mouth turned up into a one sided grin and with a regretful look at the blankets hiding Elias, he disappeared.
Chapter 18