(Tentative title) Reprisals – SN fic

Chapter 1

By J.A. Carlton

aka sifichick

Disclaimer: shrug Why not?

Love: I hate repeating myself but… for love I'll do anything.


Darkness fell to the periphery of Carol Guinardi's vision as something heavy and solid careened into the right side of her face, her vision turned red as she groped through the shattered bits of her life on the floor, trying to reach the phone. She was almost there, her finger brushed the plastic housing just as some huge, horrible agony raged into her belly. Fortune was with her as she flew across the living room and into the wall., she was able to grasp the phone and dial 911 before the world stopped making sense.

She head pounding on the door and thought for a moment it was in her head, then she heard the voice and knew there would be questions. There were always questions, but this time the lies would serve a different purpose.

Please don't go away… she thought as the image of EMT's as some mad trick or treaters knocking on the door then running away flickered through her mind in the way of a B-rated horror movie.

"Pl… please…" she whispered as voices came to her just before the door burst open and the swirling tornado of household items dropped to the floor.

The first two EMT's to enter the house couldn't believe their eyes. IT was as if someone had thrown a switch when they entered and the possessions dropped through the air to clatter and shatter on the floor.

"What the hell?" one of them asked. The other shrugged and once the movement stopped, to their credit they dismissed their disbelief and moved through the rubble as Carol Guinardi clawed her way toward them.

"Oh man…" they breathed as the details of the scene made themselves clear.

They approached warily wondering if whoever had done this to the woman before them might still be around, then they began to tend her.


"…so I don't get it, an invisible attacker or some kind of poltergeist which is it?" Dean asked as they headed toward their next assignment.

"I don't know… maybe both, either? What I don't get is…" Sam stopped abruptly and shook his head.

"What you don't get is what?" Dean asked.

Over the last few months he seemed to have become more focused. He found himself more often than ever before tired and not necessarily frightened but more careful, less reckless, maybe even in some ways less enthusiastic.

Big Bad was no where to be found and after an intense six week regimen to regain his strength Dad was on the hunt yet again, chasing down those signs, sending them coordinates when he thought his boys could be helpful.

He smiled just a tiny bit thinking about Laura, the last time he'd seen her was at Bobby's. That kiss, then later that night. In the morning, as she'd told him she would be, she was gone.

"You know I love you Dean… I don't know when of if we'll ever see each other again," she'd said softly while stroking his chest and his hand balled into a fist in her hair.

"What do you mean?" he'd asked feeling his throat tighten around the question. He knew the answer, and he wanted anyone but him to be the one to give it voice, so he left it to the one he knew was stronger than he.

He'd felt her smile against his skin and reveled in her touch as she cupped his face and said, "You now as well as I do, you and me… we're not meant to have what we need, not in this life anyway…"

"Do you… you don't think…" he'd started to ask but his darned throat wouldn't loosen up, and it wasn't tight in the same way it was when they kissed either.

"Dean don't torture us…" she'd shaken her head and pressed her lips to his draping her leg over his hips, "We have this. This moment, this… haven in time… take it, appreciate it… let yourself have it…"

"How can you sound so…" he started to ask and angled her head back so he could delve into her eyes. He'd needed to see if she was yanking his chain or if she really believed what she was telling him. To his surprise, he saw her belief.

"People like us, we've seen and done so much. We've lost so much…" her voice cracked and he remembered Morgan.

"Laura, I have to ask you something…" he said softly, stroking her hair and neck. His eyes closed against the pain he knew he was going to feel when he got the answer he knew was coming.



"There's something for us. For people like us… it maybe doesn't make up for all the sacrifices but… but it's something that helps dull the pain… and there's the whole 'next life issue' and quantum physics and energy can't really be created or destroyed then the universe being pseudo sentient…" she babbled quickly, trying to stop him from making her think about it.

HE felt her voice trembling, her body shaking against his and her fingers wrapping hard into his skin trying to dig, to escape the memory.

He wrapped her tight in his arms, his breath shaking as he sighed it out, and he felt her fight for control over her emotions.

"I'm sorry… shhhh, it's okay… I'm sorry…" he pulled her deep into him, his eyes tearing as her body communicated her conflict in a way he understood perfectly.

He felt her nod, felt her lips brush over his chest and her breath hitch as she choked it out, "I cut his throat…" she stopped, her breath holding solid in her body as her pain washed over them both. Dean pulled her hard to him, his eyes glassing with hers as she finally came to face what she'd had t do almost four months ago.

Inside himself Dean shuddered wondering if he'd ever be able to make the sacrifice she had or what circumstances could bring him to do what she'd done, and he knew in whatever situation that could arise, he'd never be able to live with himself. Between the two of them he wondered how long she'd manage to survive before remorse brought her back to her brother.

HE sighed and felt his lips turn up at the corners remembering how he'd gentled away her pain that night and in so doing had helped himself start down his own path to recovery.

"Dean!" Sam's voice set his right ear ringing.

"What? Man… you ever hear of a daydream?" he growled more startled than anything else.

"Have you heard anything I said?" Sam asked, his eyes lit with an odd smile.

"Uhm… after 'what I don't get is…'… not a word," he admitted.

"Where the hell did you go man?" Sam asked amused and genuinely curious. Dean had been different lately, almost as if he were more than he'd been before. Fuller, richer, just more… Dean. To his chagrin, his older brother smiled, and not one of his usual, 'wouldn't you like to know' types but… Sam shook his head, whatever was happening with his big brother didn't feel like a bad thing at all.

"I said… what I don't get is why… if this thing, whatever it is that's tormenting this girl… why hasn't it killed her yet…"

"What do you mean?" Dean asked curious.

"I mean this is the third time this year she's been hospitalized like this, and according to the unofficial reports I could get my hands on, she's been seen in the ER for several other types of attacks… they even thought she was doing it to herself for the attention for a while…"

"What like that Baron Munchausen's thing?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded, "Munchausen's Syndrome yeah, but they've kinda ruled that out."

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Couple of the EMT's this last time swear they saw 'something that defies explanation'."

"Really? Well that definitely puts it in the running for 'our kind of gig'… what's her condition?" Dean asked feeling squirrelly in his belly as his blood started to heat up and he wondered what she was into. Was she like Meg? Trying to control forces beyond her control? Was she dabbling in curse-worthy stuff? Was it Big Bad related or just an average malevolent haunting? And most importantly, if she was just another innocent, what could she have possibly done to merit such a terrible series of assaults?

"Stable," Sam said while checking the map in his hand, "Left up ahead on Riverfront then right onto Sycamore," he looked at his brother and saw his jaw clench, "What?" he asked.

Dean shook his head, "Just wondering why the same woman, is it the house? Did she dabble where she shouldn't have? I mean she lives alone right? No husband? No kids?"


"So… just wondering what we're dealing with."


"One things' for sure… whatever it is we're dealing with… it's seriously pissed…" Dean breathed as they entered the house through the patio door and closed it behind them while the devastation soaked in.

"Wow," Sam breathed.

"I thought Meredith's place was bad…" Dean shook his head. He knew that the myriad shards of debris, pieces of a life accumulated made it look worse, but even subtracting it from the equation and looking at the pits in the walls, the blood spatters and streaks, the pure savagery of the attack could not be mistaken.

"Wow…" Dean echoed turning on the EMF meter and nodding when it started squealing immediately as they moved out of the kitchen and into the front room.

"Oh man… look at that…" Sam pointed to the wall where halfway up to the ceiling a Torchiere style lamp hung from a hole in the drywall.

"Musta been some party," Dean breathed disbelieving, "Alright Sammy you take the bedrooms, I'll start over there," he indicated back toward the kitchen and the garage entrance there.

Sam nodded, "Be careful."

"I'm not the psychic wonder here… you be careful," Dean admonished moving back into the kitchen while Sam went to the far end of the house. Dean stood at the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room and cocked his head to the side, an interesting mosaic of kitchen knives embedded to their hilts in the wall made him smirk. His lip curled up remembering his own recent encounter with a cutlery obsessed, malevolence when they'd gone back to Lawrence and their old house to help Jenny and her kids.

He jumped startled when a deep rumbling vibration shook the walls of the house and was followed by the crystalline sound of something deadly shattering. His heart in his throat he turned on his heel and hollered, "Sammy!"