This story is written by Alterra von Feures and myself as a part of our alternate re-telling of Supernatural.
Set after the end of Season 2. Dean and Sam goes after a creature that kills and feeds on young women. But, as Sam discovers, things get a bit more complicated than that when he finds himself attracted to one of the would be victims.
It was a beautiful dream. The family together… All of them. Dean’s mother and father and little brother Sam. They were sitting at the dinner table enjoying a feast. They talked of normal things, jobs, girlfriends…
Dean took a deep satisfied breath and it hurt… really hurt as he woke with a start.
He was in a bed, not the typical hospital fare, yet there was A IV in one arm. He felt tight bandaging around his sore ribs and it just plain hurt to breathe.
He moved his head a little catching sight of Sam asleep in a big green chair, overstuffed and ancient it was splitting at a seam, yellowed stuffing threatening to spill out.
Sam was asleep, his head angled as if he fell asleep reluctantly. The right side of his face one big purple bruise, his arm in a cast…
What the hell had happened!? Dean remembered it all suddenly… The girl. The demon. What it had said to him…
”Oh God, dad I wish you were here”, he whispered painfully. Footsteps brought a grim Sheriff into the doorway.
”Dam good to see you awake son.” He smiled tightly.
”Where am I?” Dean asked slowly his throat sore, voice strained.
”The Doc’s house, figured it would be safer here than the hospital, seeing as how you boys are wanted.”
Dean looked back at Sam.
”He’s going to be fine too”, the big man added as if reading Dean’s thoughts .”I’ll be damned if he was leaving you either, he’s been at your side the last two days, never budging.”
”Two days?” Dean’s brow went up with mild shock. ”What happened to the dem- uh girl… Stormy.” He managed fighting down the trepidation of previous events.
”You tell me son”, the Sheriff said stiffly.
”Have you talked to her uncle?” Dean asked, studying the Sheriff’s haggard face.
”Father Thomas told me he sent her to some friends of the family that lives in New England. Because of the killings. Lots of parents have done that the last couple of weeks. But…” He trailed off.
”You didn’t believe him”, Dean filled in.
Miller rubbed his hand across the eyes. ”He’s the priest for Christ’s sake! I don’t have any reason not to believe him!”
In his chair Sam stirred.
”Keep quiet, Sheriff”, Dean hissed. ”I don’t want you to wake up my little brother.”
”Alright. I’m sorry”, Miller said in a much quieter tone. He was about to leave but then changed his mind and just stood there, looking strangely embarrassed all of a sudden.
”What?” Dean asked.
”Ah”, Miller started, turning his hat between his hands by the rim. ”I just wanted to say thank you, to the both of you. And ask you, if you could, to forget what I said at Nancy’s. I didn’t mean to threaten you, but these killings… ”He shook his head sadly. ”This is a small town, Winchester. Everybody knows everybody, if you know what I mean. And the girls… I knew them all.”
”I understand, Sheriff”, Dean said softly.
”What I want to say is that you and your brother will always be welcome here in Mansion.” He put the hat on. ”Christ, if you weren’t wanted by the FBI I’d have the town through you a parade!”
Dean chuckled at this, then winced as sharp stabs of pain reminded him of his broken ribs.
”What are you going to do about Stormy?” He then asked, carefully pressing a hand against his chest as if hoping to subside the pain a little.
”I have no reason to suspect that Father Thomas isn’t telling the truth”, Miller said slowly.
”She was wounded when he came and picked her up”, Dean said. ”He said he had heard the shots.”
”I’m sorry, son”, Miller sighed. ”But the Father is her legal guardian, and no one has officially seen her wounded. Perhaps he really did send her out of town.”
”To a hospital?”
”Yeah”, the Sheriff nodded. ”That is what I believe. Not even in my darkest moments can I believe that Father Thomas would do anything to hurt Stormy. He loves that child. Christ, we all do. She is a very special girl.”
”Yeah”, Dean mumbled. ”I know.”
”I have to go”, the Sheriff said. ”Before Doc gets up here and drag me out. You have a good rest now you hear, Winchester. And I hope you and your brother both will feel better soon.”
After the Sheriff had closed the door behind him, Dean leaned back against the pillows.
”Dean?” The sound of Sam’s voice made him turn to his brother.
”Hey, bro.” He smiled. ”How are you feeling?”
”How are you feeling?” Sam asked, ignoring his question. He reached out and grabbed Dean’s hand, squeezing it tightly. ”Dammit, Dean…”
”I know.” Dean’s eyes seemed suddenly a little too bright as if the grey-green irises had been bejewelled.
And then came the question Dean dreaded.
”How do we get Stormy away from the demon?”
Dean closed his eyes. ”Sammy…” He started. ”The Sheriff came while you were taking your little nap and told me that her uncle has sent her to a hospital out of town.” He held his breath, praying for Sam to believe the lie.
”No!” Sam shook his head. ”It can’t be! Why would it do that?”
”It wants her alive”, Dean said sternly. Then he changed the subject. ”What about the poltergeist?”
”It’s been taken care of”, Sam answered numbly.
”Good. And where’s our kit?”
”Under your bed. I thought it best if the Doc saw as little as possible. Dean-”
”Go”, Dean said softly. ”Call all major hospitals in Maine and New England. You might be able to track her down.”
”And what are you going to do?” Sam asked, unfolding his long legs and standing up, still holding his brother’s hand in his healthy one.
Dean gave him a pale smile. ”I’m going to rest. The ribs hurt like a bitch, and it’s not as if I can go anywhere hooked to this thing.” He lifted his arm, showing the IRV needle.
”Good”, Sam said. He leaned down and brushed a kiss on his older brother’s pale forehead. ”I wouldn’t know what I would do without you, bro.”
”Dude!” Dean pretended to protest. ”I know I’m irresistible but we are brother’s for Christ’s sake!” He was rewarded with a smile.
”Try and get some rest now”, Sam said and headed for the door.
Once he was alone, Dean pushed himself up into a sitting position, eyebrow knotted as pain shot up through his chest. The doctor had done a good job on his ribs and as long as he didn’t have to jump any fences he would be alright.
Dean pulled the needle out of his arm, found bandages on the nightstand and wrapped some of it around the wound left by the needle in order to stop the bleeding. Carefully he rolled out of bed, moaning as the pain increased. He found his jeans and t-shirt and managed to pull them on. The shoes provided a whole other problem but he managed to put them on as well. This was not the first time he had had to dress himself with broken ribs.
Reaching in under the bed with his leg he hooked his foot under the handle of the carry all and pulled it out. He had to bend down a little to pick it up and bit his lip not to cry out. Then he looked through Sam’s jacket that hung across the chair where he had watched over Dean. He fished out the car-keys. Moved across the room on quiet feet and pressed an ear to the door. He heard nothing. He opened the door just a crack and peered out. The hallway outside was empty and quiet.
Dean moved like a shadow, making no sound as he made his way to the stairs. He kept close to the wall to avoid any creaking steps as he descended to the first floor. From an adjacent room Sam’s voice came:
”Red hair”, he said. ”Blue eyes. Her name is Stormy. No mam, it’s not a joke….”
Dean got to the front door, opened it as quietly as he had opened the bedroom door and slipped out.
Stormy had awoken to darkness. To a dry smell that was strangely familiar. And to pain. Her stomach felt as if it was on fire. She had skimmed her fingers across it, felt the bandages and remembered what had happened.
She had gasped, her hand automatically reaching for the silver cross only to find it gone.
But even without its protection she had managed to fight the Fideal trying to possess her body. She had cast it out and then she couldn’t remember anything until she woke up here in the pitch black.
She crawled across a stone floor until she came to a wall that felt as if it had been cut out from rock. It was as if she were in a cave. But that smell… it was so familiar…
Stormy leaned against the wall and managed to climb to her feet. The pain in her stomach increased until she thought she would either scream, throw up, faint or perhaps all three. But she managed to stay on her feet.
Reaching out with one hand in front of her she started to explore her prison. And that smell… that dry smell of stone and old dust and something else… something familiar…
It wasn’t until she found the alcove that had been cut out in the wall that she understood where she was, and when she did she couldn’t hold back a scream.
She was in the old crypt below the church.
What was she doing there? Why? And what had happened to Sam and Dean. The questions tumbled through her mind. With on hand on the wall she made her way to the narrow steps that led up from this place. But she reached them only to find that the door was locked. Panic rose up within her and she started to hammering the door, screaming until she thought her lounges would explode.
Finally she heard the tell tale sound of the stone slab that hid the door to the crypt being removed.
She sobbed with relief as the old key turned in the lock. She was going to be saved.
The door opened and she was immediately blinded by the bright light that suddenly filled the crypt.
“Ah, you’re awake”, a familiar voice said.
“Uncle?” Stormy whispered hoarsely, trying to shield her eyes from the bright light.
“It won’t be long now, my child”, Uncle Thomas said. “Soon very soon it will be over. But you have to be patient for just a little while longer.”
“No…” Stormy shook her head, refusing to believe that this was real. “Why?”
But the door fell close and she could hear the key turning in the lock again.
And somehow she knew why. In her dreams the yellow-eyed man, the demon, had always had her uncle’s face.
She curled up on the floor, wrapped her arms around herself and cried.
Dean hit the breaks, forcing the Beatle to stop, tires screeching against the asphalt. The church seemed sinister under the bright white sky, a looming structure with deep-set windows and a large double door that looked as if it had been taken from a medieval castle.
Dean climbed out of the little car, pulling the bag with him, forcing every thought of pain out of his head. He had to do this, for Sam, for Stormy and for himself. He would only get one chance.
He hurried towards the church, taking the sawn off shotgun out of the bag. He followed the straight path that led up to the large double gates. Cut out of the wood of one of the doors there was a normal sized door. Dean tried the handle and found that it was unlocked. He opened it slowly and peered inside.
The church was empty. He slipped inside. He suspected that Stormy would be held somewhere inside its structure, but where? Then he noticed the black square in the floor beside the altar. Old, worn steps lead down into the darkness. Dean took the steps in a couple of quick strides and found the wooden door. It was bolted and locked
“Stormy?” He whispered.
At first there was nothing but then he could hear someone moving on the other side of the door.
“Dean?” The girl’s voice was hoarse as if she had been screaming or crying. “Is Sam there too?”
“No, just me. I’m going to get you out. Stand back from the door. Hide behind something.”
“Behind what?” Came the muffled reply. “This is a crypt!”
Even in the dangerous situation Dean managed a smile at the tone in Stormy’s voice. “There should be some sarcophagus or alcoves or something.”
There came no reply.
“Stormy?” Dean whispered, knowing that time was running out on them. “Talk to me.”
Finally she did, her voice suddenly very small and trembling. “There’s skeletons there…”
“So?” Dean’s voice was stern now. “They wont hurt you. I have to shoot the door open, Stormy and I would hate to hit you so get out of the way.”
A couple of seconds ticked by. Dean wiped the sweat of his brow. Finally he heard Stormy again.
He lifted the shotgun to his shoulder and clenched his teeth. This was going to hurt like hell. Then he pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the church in waves. The old lock exploded and the door flew open.
Even in the darkness he could see Stormy’s pale face peeking out from an alcove in the wall. She nearly fell out of the hole in her frantic wish to escape the skeleton and the crypt.
Dean winced when he saw how pale she was. She was still dressed in the same blood-drenched clothes she had been during their fight with the Fideal. He reached out, grabbing her by the arm steadying her. Together they started to climb the steps up towards the light.
Sam put the phone down with a sigh. There wasn’t any girl with red hair and blue eyes admitted for a knife-wound in the entire states of New England and Maine. He rubbed his tired eyes. His broken arm ached. He rose slowly with a heavy heart.
He slowly climbed the stairs, wanting to check in on his brother. He didn’t knock on the door so not to disturb him if he slept, instead he opened it quietly and stepped inside the room.
It was empty. The covers had been pushed to the foot of the bed and the IRV needle lay discarded on the nightstand. Knowing the bag would be gone Sam still knelt by the bed, looking under it.
“Damn him!” He shouted, anger and fear panging his heart.
With no plan of action other than getting to the church and find Dean before he got himself killed, Sam went to the little guest room where he slept. From under the bed he pulled out a smaller bag than the one he had stored under Dean’s bed. He unzipped it, grabbed only one of the weapons and where off.
He took the stairs in a couple of strides and were out the door.
”Where are you going?” Doctor Hansen shouted after him. ”And where is your brother?”
”The church!” Sam called back and continued down the street, running as fast as he could.
The church lay only a couple of blocks away, even now he could see the bell tower stretch up towards the cloudy sky.
Continued in part 11.