The Man in the Dark Chapter 6/10
Here's the 6th chapter. Finally some action is here and we find out a bit more about the wraith and just how it's connected to Dean.
Chapter Six
“You got that thing done yet?” Dean demanded as he pulled the Impala unceremoniously to a stop in front of the winery. It was old and creepy looking, falling apart at the seams and sporting a wide assortment of graffiti tags. Most of the windows were broken, a few were boarded up but Sam guessed that the townspeople had probably given up on keeping teenagers out of the building a long time ago.
Looking over at his brother, Sam saw the impatience in his brother’s face and already knew that no matter what the answer was, they’d be going inside that building within the next few minutes. Dean had pushed caution to the wind and only cared about one thing now: Cecily. And no matter what Sam said, no matter how dangerous he told him it would be to go in there without the Aramaic verses ready for exorcism, Dean was going inside that winery with or without him. Leave it to Dean to make Sam look like the uncaring one. Usually it was Sam who got too emotionally attached. But Sam guessed that having a little girl put images into our mind would automatically connect you on a million different levels.
It wasn’t that Sam didn’t want to bust in there and save Cecily from this monster. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to try and find her alive. And it sure as hell wasn’t that Sam didn’t care about saving a life. It was that Sam wanted to make sure their own lives were safe first. His brother was in hero mode, he had been since Cecily had come out and knew him at first sight. Sam admired Dean when he was in this mode, but he also feared it. He feared it because in Dean’s mind, heroes and martyrs were interchangeable. And Sam was just not willing to see things that way yet. In his eyes, no life was worth Dean giving up his own. None. Though it wasn’t something Sam thought about often, he had thought about it before. Nothing in the world would ever change Sam’s mind about that.
“There are a few words Jeremy didn’t have in his journal,” Sam answered. “I don’t have the complete verse yet. We won’t be able to do an exorcism until I have it.”
Dean pondered it for a second, or pretended to anyway, before he gave a nod and said, “Then figure it out, I’ll meet you inside.”
Sam gave an exasperated, “What?” but it fell on deaf ears as Dean was already out the door and rounding the car to get to the trunk. Sam shook his head at the notion of Dean going into that winery by himself. He quickly got out of the car and came to the trunk, watching his brother pack a duffle bag with any supplies he thought he may need. “Dean, you can’t go in there by yourself,” he tried, knowing it was futile. “Just wait a little bit, I can look online or find a library or…”
“We can’t wait that long, Sam,” Dean said, irritated. He continued to pack his bag, not looking at Sam. “I can get in there and get the kid while you figure the Jesus-speak out.”
Sam stared at his brother for a moment, trying to push down the scream of frustration that wanted to explode from his throat and assault his brother. “You’re serious?” Sam asked through clenched teeth.
“Hell yeah I’m serious,” Dean said, zipping up the bag and pulling a shotgun under his arm before closing the trunk. Then he looked at Sam and gave a grin. “You know I have done this alone before, Sam. There was a time when your scrawny ass wasn’t around to bitch and moan.”
Ignoring the jibe for the moment, Sam grabbed Dean’s arm as he turned to go. Dean gave him a look which Sam promptly dismissed. Dean couldn’t pull that big brother crap on him now. “Have you been paying any attention to what’s been going on the past couple of weeks?” Sam yelled. At Dean’s frown, Sam knew he didn’t even want to hear the answer. He went on before Dean could deny anything. “Cecily dreaming about you for months, getting inside your head, telling you this thing knows your coming and then saying he was the one who brought you here? Oh not to mention the little matter of my dream about shooting you. None of this clues you in that maybe it’s not a good idea for you to go in there alone and unprepared?”
Dean just stared back at him. He could tell by the look on his face that maybe Dean had thought of all this. His brother gave him a sad smile and Sam knew he had lost the battle. Dean was still a stubborn ass. Oh the joys of being a Winchester.
“She’s four years old,” Dean said quietly, his eyes practically pleading with Sam for that to be enough. For the simple fact that she was just a little girl to make Sam understand why he was willing to go in there without the proper tools to dispel the son of a bitch. Sam’s shoulders dropped slightly. It was enough, but only because Sam could read the rest of the story in Dean’s eyes. The fact that she was so young was only the tip of the iceberg of guilt Dean had floating inside of him.
“Dean…” he tried.
“Besides,” the sadness was gone from Dean’s eyes and instead, his brother plastered on that stupid grin of his. “No way am I letting my little brother shoot me twice. Hence the absence of a gun in your hands.”
Sam chewed his cheek for a moment, silent battles being waged between them as they stared at each other. Well, Dean was obviously not going to back down and there was no way Sam was letting Dean go in there by himself. Sam knew that Dean was in danger, he just knew. Cecily had told them that the wraith knew Dean was coming. That meant it was prepared for him. And they weren’t prepared for it. That in itself should have been enough to keep Dean out, but it wasn’t. And it wouldn’t be enough for Sam either.
“You just said hence,” he smiled and Dean grinned back.
“Thought I’d try out some of your fancy collegiate words,” Dean answered.
“I’m coming with you,” Sam said immediately. “Salt and holy water should still be enough to hold it off. We’ll get Cecily and figure out the rest of the verse later.”
“That’s my boy,” Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder and turned towards the winery. Sam caught up with him.
“I really don’t get a gun?” he asked as Dean threw his bag over the chain link fence and then scaled it easily. When he was on the other side, Sam did the same thing. He landed by his brother and paused as he saw Dean holding his knife out to him. “A knife?” he asked but accepted it anyway. “What good is that going to do against a wraith?”
Dean shrugged. “Maybe it will be afraid of sharp pointy objects.” He headed towards the door.
Sam watched him, shocked. “You’re really not going to give me a gun?” he asked, following his brother.
“Nope.” Dean pushed open the door and held it for Sam, who stood for a second staring at his brother. Dean just smiled and nodded his head, motioning for Sam to get inside. Sam gave an incredulous laugh before he stepped into the door. Dean closed it behind them and they both stood still for a moment until their eyes adjusted to the darker interior of the winery. The sun coming in from the windows didn’t do much to light the inside but they could see well enough. They were standing in the large room that had an assembly line zigzagging around the room. At the back of the room were two large vats. To the side there was an open door leading to a hallway with doors that Sam supposed were offices.
“Well this should be fun,” Dean said dryly.
“Where should we start?” Sam asked.
“We’ll clear this room and move on to that hallway,” Dean said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the EMF meter. Flipping it on, he held it out in front of him and they started walking through the room. Sam kept his eyes peeled, hoping they’d find Cecily right away so they could get out of here quickly and get on with figuring out that verse. He didn’t even want to think of the possibility that maybe Cecily was already dead. If Dean was feeling guilty now, Sam couldn’t even imagine.
They weaved in and out about the assembly line, checking beneath and behind everything. Sam looked over at his brother. “Dean, how do we even know it brought her here?” he asked softly.
Dean turned to look at him, a frown marring his face. “We don’t,” he answered after a moment. He was about to say something else when the EMF meter suddenly spiked in his hands. He looked down at it and then started holding it around the room. “Sammy…”
But Sam didn’t get a chance to say anything as something suddenly wrapped itself around his ankles. His mind instantly went back to Lawrence and he looked over at Dean. His brother was frowning at him and Sam couldn’t even warn him before Sam’s feet were pulled out from under him. He landed hard on his stomach, heard Dean call his name, and then he was being dragged through the room.
Sam cursed as whatever was dragging him not so gently brought him around the corner and he hit the wall. He pulled his arms in front of his face to protect himself as he flipped onto his back. He tried to watch where he was headed and his eyes widened as he saw the set of double doors quickly coming closer. He braced himself for the impact, but nothing could have prepared him for what was behind those double doors.
The concrete stairs leading towards the cellar were not one of Sam’s favorite parts about the winery. He cried out as he was dragged down them, his shoulders and back taking the beating. He managed to keep his head leaned forward so he wouldn’t break open the back of his skull. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, whatever had been dragging him suddenly flung Sam into the wall. He hit it with a grunt and fell to the floor, where he lay for a moment, waiting for another attack. But none came.
Sam tried to push himself up, but pain laced through his shoulders and his arms felt weak. God, that was going to leave a mark. Why was he always the one being dragged through houses and stuff? He sat himself up gingerly and leaned against the wall, eyes scanning the area. And as he took in his surroundings, he froze as he heard the sound of soft crying. Ignoring the painful ache in his body, Sam stood up, having to lean against the wall for support. He frowned and tried to pinpoint the crying but couldn’t quite manage to do so. He hesitated only a second before calling out, “Cecily?”
After a few moments when Sam thought no one would answer, a small head poked slowly out from one of the rooms. Sam wanted to cry in relief when he saw it was Cecily. Tear stained cheeks, quivering lips, and scared round eyes, but it was Cecily nonetheless. When she saw Sam, she sobbed out his name and burst out of the doorway, running at him. Sam squatted down painfully and Cecily wrapped her arms around him, sobbing hard and openly now. Sam picked her up and stood, holding her close.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “You’re okay. We’re going to get you out of here, Cecily.” Cecily just continued to cry and Sam looked around. Dammit Dean, we’re getting her out of here so you better get your ass down here.
As if on cue, Dean came rushing down the stairs and halted when he spotted Sam holding Cecily. Dean’s shoulders relaxed at the sight and he spat out an angry, “Jesus,” before coming over and inspecting the both of them, making sure neither one of them was hurt too bad. Cecily didn’t seem to realize he was even there she was so scared and had her face tucked into Sam’s chest. “You okay?” he asked, catching Sam’s eye.
“Let’s just get out of here,” Sam said. “This doesn’t feel right.”
Dean nodded and turned towards the stairs, one hand on Sam’s shoulder, the other holding the shotgun down at his side. He started to push Sam towards the stairs when the room suddenly dimmed. “Shit,” Dean whispered, bringing the shotgun up as dark tendrils of wicked black smoke started to spark down the staircase. It was moving slow and Dean was waiting for it to get closer to pull the trigger. “Sammy, get ready to run,” he said. Sam nodded, his eyes on the smoke. But then the smoke sped up and like lightning it flashed to the bottom of the stairs. Dean’s finger twitched on the trigger and he was about to pull it when the smoke materialized itself in front of them. It was a man clad in a suit. He was completely hairless, eyebrows and everything. His eyes were wide and horrifying, the pupils so big there was no color there and the whites of his eyes were swirled with black veins. He had his arms at his side and he stood perfectly still, not rushing them, just standing there, watching.
Sam fully expected Dean to pull the trigger right then. His legs were tensed, ready to sprint forwards up the stairs and run as fast as they could to the car. He fully expected Dean to fight off the wraith, to cuss, to get angry. He fully expected Dean to do something. But panic suddenly surged through him as the man smiled and Dean didn’t do anything. Not a thing. He stood still, eyes wide with an emotion Sam had never seen in his brother before. Dean’s face had gone white, his breath hitched in his throat. The two stared at each other for a moment before a single word slipped from Dean’s mouth.
“Genie.”
Realizing his brother was caught up in something Sam couldn’t see and wouldn’t be pulling the trigger any time soon, he quickly took control. He set Cecily down hurriedly and grabbed the shotgun, aimed, pulled the trigger. The wraith’s eyes shot towards him for a second but as the rock salt hit him, he disappeared, the black smoke lingering in the air and slowly starting to regroup. Fuck. Time to run.
“Dean,” Sam demanded as he picked Cecily up again. Dean seemed to snap out of whatever trance he’d been in and looked at Sam. He looked towards the smoke and then reached forward and grabbed Sam’s shirt, pulling him as they ran deeper into the basement. They only stopped when they reached the end of the hall and had no where else to go.
“Shit,” Dean spat. Sam set Cecily down. “God Dammit!” Dean suddenly yelled, surprising Sam and punched the wall. He started pacing, a hand running over his head, a pensive look on his face. Sam wasn’t sure all of Dean’s anger was aimed at the wall.
“Dean?” Sam asked. Dean glanced over at him and immediately stopped pacing. He stared at Sam for a moment, sizing him up, gauging something in him that Sam wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be gauged.
“Eugene Stephan Braunstein,” Dean said suddenly, dropping his hands to his side and standing there looking defeated.
Sam frowned. “What?”
“That’s his name,” Dean looked down at his feet and sighed. “Eugene Stephan Braunstein, but his friends called him Genie.”
The light suddenly clicked in Sam’s head. “You know him?” he asked, shocked. “You know who the wraith is?”
Dean’s head rose, the corner of his mouth twitched up and he nodded. “The first time Dad asked me to go solo,” Dean said, eyes distant. “Thought I was facing a poltergeist, turned out it was just some psychic who was losing control of his powers.” Dean ran a hand through his hair again. “Said I’d help the guy. Find someone who could help him get them under control. Lasted all of two days before he lost control in a fucking psycho sort of way.”
Sam didn’t know what to say. Dean had never mentioned any of this before. He tried not to feel angry over the fact that Dean had met a psychic before and hadn’t told him anything about it, especially when his premonitions were coming true. Not that Sam considered himself a psychic, but still. But the way Dean was looking right now, pale and nervous and guilty, Sam guessed that the experience hadn’t been pleasant.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
Dean’s eyes focused and he stared at Sam for a moment, mouth open. But Dean closed his mouth and squared his jaw. The motion made Sam realize that he wasn’t going to like the answer. Dean took a defensive posture, straightening his back and tilting his head as if he were daring Sam to ridicule him. And when he said what he had to say, Sam knew why he felt he had to do it like that.
“I killed him.”
Go to Chapter Seven
Chapter Six
“You got that thing done yet?” Dean demanded as he pulled the Impala unceremoniously to a stop in front of the winery. It was old and creepy looking, falling apart at the seams and sporting a wide assortment of graffiti tags. Most of the windows were broken, a few were boarded up but Sam guessed that the townspeople had probably given up on keeping teenagers out of the building a long time ago.
Looking over at his brother, Sam saw the impatience in his brother’s face and already knew that no matter what the answer was, they’d be going inside that building within the next few minutes. Dean had pushed caution to the wind and only cared about one thing now: Cecily. And no matter what Sam said, no matter how dangerous he told him it would be to go in there without the Aramaic verses ready for exorcism, Dean was going inside that winery with or without him. Leave it to Dean to make Sam look like the uncaring one. Usually it was Sam who got too emotionally attached. But Sam guessed that having a little girl put images into our mind would automatically connect you on a million different levels.
It wasn’t that Sam didn’t want to bust in there and save Cecily from this monster. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to try and find her alive. And it sure as hell wasn’t that Sam didn’t care about saving a life. It was that Sam wanted to make sure their own lives were safe first. His brother was in hero mode, he had been since Cecily had come out and knew him at first sight. Sam admired Dean when he was in this mode, but he also feared it. He feared it because in Dean’s mind, heroes and martyrs were interchangeable. And Sam was just not willing to see things that way yet. In his eyes, no life was worth Dean giving up his own. None. Though it wasn’t something Sam thought about often, he had thought about it before. Nothing in the world would ever change Sam’s mind about that.
“There are a few words Jeremy didn’t have in his journal,” Sam answered. “I don’t have the complete verse yet. We won’t be able to do an exorcism until I have it.”
Dean pondered it for a second, or pretended to anyway, before he gave a nod and said, “Then figure it out, I’ll meet you inside.”
Sam gave an exasperated, “What?” but it fell on deaf ears as Dean was already out the door and rounding the car to get to the trunk. Sam shook his head at the notion of Dean going into that winery by himself. He quickly got out of the car and came to the trunk, watching his brother pack a duffle bag with any supplies he thought he may need. “Dean, you can’t go in there by yourself,” he tried, knowing it was futile. “Just wait a little bit, I can look online or find a library or…”
“We can’t wait that long, Sam,” Dean said, irritated. He continued to pack his bag, not looking at Sam. “I can get in there and get the kid while you figure the Jesus-speak out.”
Sam stared at his brother for a moment, trying to push down the scream of frustration that wanted to explode from his throat and assault his brother. “You’re serious?” Sam asked through clenched teeth.
“Hell yeah I’m serious,” Dean said, zipping up the bag and pulling a shotgun under his arm before closing the trunk. Then he looked at Sam and gave a grin. “You know I have done this alone before, Sam. There was a time when your scrawny ass wasn’t around to bitch and moan.”
Ignoring the jibe for the moment, Sam grabbed Dean’s arm as he turned to go. Dean gave him a look which Sam promptly dismissed. Dean couldn’t pull that big brother crap on him now. “Have you been paying any attention to what’s been going on the past couple of weeks?” Sam yelled. At Dean’s frown, Sam knew he didn’t even want to hear the answer. He went on before Dean could deny anything. “Cecily dreaming about you for months, getting inside your head, telling you this thing knows your coming and then saying he was the one who brought you here? Oh not to mention the little matter of my dream about shooting you. None of this clues you in that maybe it’s not a good idea for you to go in there alone and unprepared?”
Dean just stared back at him. He could tell by the look on his face that maybe Dean had thought of all this. His brother gave him a sad smile and Sam knew he had lost the battle. Dean was still a stubborn ass. Oh the joys of being a Winchester.
“She’s four years old,” Dean said quietly, his eyes practically pleading with Sam for that to be enough. For the simple fact that she was just a little girl to make Sam understand why he was willing to go in there without the proper tools to dispel the son of a bitch. Sam’s shoulders dropped slightly. It was enough, but only because Sam could read the rest of the story in Dean’s eyes. The fact that she was so young was only the tip of the iceberg of guilt Dean had floating inside of him.
“Dean…” he tried.
“Besides,” the sadness was gone from Dean’s eyes and instead, his brother plastered on that stupid grin of his. “No way am I letting my little brother shoot me twice. Hence the absence of a gun in your hands.”
Sam chewed his cheek for a moment, silent battles being waged between them as they stared at each other. Well, Dean was obviously not going to back down and there was no way Sam was letting Dean go in there by himself. Sam knew that Dean was in danger, he just knew. Cecily had told them that the wraith knew Dean was coming. That meant it was prepared for him. And they weren’t prepared for it. That in itself should have been enough to keep Dean out, but it wasn’t. And it wouldn’t be enough for Sam either.
“You just said hence,” he smiled and Dean grinned back.
“Thought I’d try out some of your fancy collegiate words,” Dean answered.
“I’m coming with you,” Sam said immediately. “Salt and holy water should still be enough to hold it off. We’ll get Cecily and figure out the rest of the verse later.”
“That’s my boy,” Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder and turned towards the winery. Sam caught up with him.
“I really don’t get a gun?” he asked as Dean threw his bag over the chain link fence and then scaled it easily. When he was on the other side, Sam did the same thing. He landed by his brother and paused as he saw Dean holding his knife out to him. “A knife?” he asked but accepted it anyway. “What good is that going to do against a wraith?”
Dean shrugged. “Maybe it will be afraid of sharp pointy objects.” He headed towards the door.
Sam watched him, shocked. “You’re really not going to give me a gun?” he asked, following his brother.
“Nope.” Dean pushed open the door and held it for Sam, who stood for a second staring at his brother. Dean just smiled and nodded his head, motioning for Sam to get inside. Sam gave an incredulous laugh before he stepped into the door. Dean closed it behind them and they both stood still for a moment until their eyes adjusted to the darker interior of the winery. The sun coming in from the windows didn’t do much to light the inside but they could see well enough. They were standing in the large room that had an assembly line zigzagging around the room. At the back of the room were two large vats. To the side there was an open door leading to a hallway with doors that Sam supposed were offices.
“Well this should be fun,” Dean said dryly.
“Where should we start?” Sam asked.
“We’ll clear this room and move on to that hallway,” Dean said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the EMF meter. Flipping it on, he held it out in front of him and they started walking through the room. Sam kept his eyes peeled, hoping they’d find Cecily right away so they could get out of here quickly and get on with figuring out that verse. He didn’t even want to think of the possibility that maybe Cecily was already dead. If Dean was feeling guilty now, Sam couldn’t even imagine.
They weaved in and out about the assembly line, checking beneath and behind everything. Sam looked over at his brother. “Dean, how do we even know it brought her here?” he asked softly.
Dean turned to look at him, a frown marring his face. “We don’t,” he answered after a moment. He was about to say something else when the EMF meter suddenly spiked in his hands. He looked down at it and then started holding it around the room. “Sammy…”
But Sam didn’t get a chance to say anything as something suddenly wrapped itself around his ankles. His mind instantly went back to Lawrence and he looked over at Dean. His brother was frowning at him and Sam couldn’t even warn him before Sam’s feet were pulled out from under him. He landed hard on his stomach, heard Dean call his name, and then he was being dragged through the room.
Sam cursed as whatever was dragging him not so gently brought him around the corner and he hit the wall. He pulled his arms in front of his face to protect himself as he flipped onto his back. He tried to watch where he was headed and his eyes widened as he saw the set of double doors quickly coming closer. He braced himself for the impact, but nothing could have prepared him for what was behind those double doors.
The concrete stairs leading towards the cellar were not one of Sam’s favorite parts about the winery. He cried out as he was dragged down them, his shoulders and back taking the beating. He managed to keep his head leaned forward so he wouldn’t break open the back of his skull. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, whatever had been dragging him suddenly flung Sam into the wall. He hit it with a grunt and fell to the floor, where he lay for a moment, waiting for another attack. But none came.
Sam tried to push himself up, but pain laced through his shoulders and his arms felt weak. God, that was going to leave a mark. Why was he always the one being dragged through houses and stuff? He sat himself up gingerly and leaned against the wall, eyes scanning the area. And as he took in his surroundings, he froze as he heard the sound of soft crying. Ignoring the painful ache in his body, Sam stood up, having to lean against the wall for support. He frowned and tried to pinpoint the crying but couldn’t quite manage to do so. He hesitated only a second before calling out, “Cecily?”
After a few moments when Sam thought no one would answer, a small head poked slowly out from one of the rooms. Sam wanted to cry in relief when he saw it was Cecily. Tear stained cheeks, quivering lips, and scared round eyes, but it was Cecily nonetheless. When she saw Sam, she sobbed out his name and burst out of the doorway, running at him. Sam squatted down painfully and Cecily wrapped her arms around him, sobbing hard and openly now. Sam picked her up and stood, holding her close.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “You’re okay. We’re going to get you out of here, Cecily.” Cecily just continued to cry and Sam looked around. Dammit Dean, we’re getting her out of here so you better get your ass down here.
As if on cue, Dean came rushing down the stairs and halted when he spotted Sam holding Cecily. Dean’s shoulders relaxed at the sight and he spat out an angry, “Jesus,” before coming over and inspecting the both of them, making sure neither one of them was hurt too bad. Cecily didn’t seem to realize he was even there she was so scared and had her face tucked into Sam’s chest. “You okay?” he asked, catching Sam’s eye.
“Let’s just get out of here,” Sam said. “This doesn’t feel right.”
Dean nodded and turned towards the stairs, one hand on Sam’s shoulder, the other holding the shotgun down at his side. He started to push Sam towards the stairs when the room suddenly dimmed. “Shit,” Dean whispered, bringing the shotgun up as dark tendrils of wicked black smoke started to spark down the staircase. It was moving slow and Dean was waiting for it to get closer to pull the trigger. “Sammy, get ready to run,” he said. Sam nodded, his eyes on the smoke. But then the smoke sped up and like lightning it flashed to the bottom of the stairs. Dean’s finger twitched on the trigger and he was about to pull it when the smoke materialized itself in front of them. It was a man clad in a suit. He was completely hairless, eyebrows and everything. His eyes were wide and horrifying, the pupils so big there was no color there and the whites of his eyes were swirled with black veins. He had his arms at his side and he stood perfectly still, not rushing them, just standing there, watching.
Sam fully expected Dean to pull the trigger right then. His legs were tensed, ready to sprint forwards up the stairs and run as fast as they could to the car. He fully expected Dean to fight off the wraith, to cuss, to get angry. He fully expected Dean to do something. But panic suddenly surged through him as the man smiled and Dean didn’t do anything. Not a thing. He stood still, eyes wide with an emotion Sam had never seen in his brother before. Dean’s face had gone white, his breath hitched in his throat. The two stared at each other for a moment before a single word slipped from Dean’s mouth.
“Genie.”
Realizing his brother was caught up in something Sam couldn’t see and wouldn’t be pulling the trigger any time soon, he quickly took control. He set Cecily down hurriedly and grabbed the shotgun, aimed, pulled the trigger. The wraith’s eyes shot towards him for a second but as the rock salt hit him, he disappeared, the black smoke lingering in the air and slowly starting to regroup. Fuck. Time to run.
“Dean,” Sam demanded as he picked Cecily up again. Dean seemed to snap out of whatever trance he’d been in and looked at Sam. He looked towards the smoke and then reached forward and grabbed Sam’s shirt, pulling him as they ran deeper into the basement. They only stopped when they reached the end of the hall and had no where else to go.
“Shit,” Dean spat. Sam set Cecily down. “God Dammit!” Dean suddenly yelled, surprising Sam and punched the wall. He started pacing, a hand running over his head, a pensive look on his face. Sam wasn’t sure all of Dean’s anger was aimed at the wall.
“Dean?” Sam asked. Dean glanced over at him and immediately stopped pacing. He stared at Sam for a moment, sizing him up, gauging something in him that Sam wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be gauged.
“Eugene Stephan Braunstein,” Dean said suddenly, dropping his hands to his side and standing there looking defeated.
Sam frowned. “What?”
“That’s his name,” Dean looked down at his feet and sighed. “Eugene Stephan Braunstein, but his friends called him Genie.”
The light suddenly clicked in Sam’s head. “You know him?” he asked, shocked. “You know who the wraith is?”
Dean’s head rose, the corner of his mouth twitched up and he nodded. “The first time Dad asked me to go solo,” Dean said, eyes distant. “Thought I was facing a poltergeist, turned out it was just some psychic who was losing control of his powers.” Dean ran a hand through his hair again. “Said I’d help the guy. Find someone who could help him get them under control. Lasted all of two days before he lost control in a fucking psycho sort of way.”
Sam didn’t know what to say. Dean had never mentioned any of this before. He tried not to feel angry over the fact that Dean had met a psychic before and hadn’t told him anything about it, especially when his premonitions were coming true. Not that Sam considered himself a psychic, but still. But the way Dean was looking right now, pale and nervous and guilty, Sam guessed that the experience hadn’t been pleasant.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
Dean’s eyes focused and he stared at Sam for a moment, mouth open. But Dean closed his mouth and squared his jaw. The motion made Sam realize that he wasn’t going to like the answer. Dean took a defensive posture, straightening his back and tilting his head as if he were daring Sam to ridicule him. And when he said what he had to say, Sam knew why he felt he had to do it like that.
“I killed him.”
Go to Chapter Seven