Summary: A concert goes horribly wrong… Sam and Dean have to deal with a murderer and the man he killed.
Disclaimer: Don't own a thing. Bless their hearts over at Supernatural. They own it all and more power to 'em.
The pain was unbelievable, almost unbearable. Dean could feel his muscles drawing up to fight against it, but his other injuries caused him to hiss in pain. His collarbone was cracked and the sudden jolt of agony only added to the cacophony as the pain pounded through his head.
"Dean?" Sam asked worriedly.
Dean didn't answer, trying to force his mind away from the source of the torture. It spread through his brain like an infection, burrowing in, scraping every nerve ending raw until he wanted to scream, cover his ears and beg for mercy, beg for it to stop.
"Sam, please," Dean said through clenched teeth.
"Quiet," his brother whispered urgently.
It continued on, droning, clawing into his brain, a never-ending agony. It had to stop. He had to make it stop. Hours. It seemed like hours now. His damaged collarbone sent another wave of agony through his body and he almost welcomed the distraction.
"Dean," Sam hissed, and this time Dean could clearly hear the anger in his voice. "Sit still."
"Is it almost over?"
"What are you, twelve?" Sam whispered.
Dean clenched his teeth and shifted in the rock hard seat. Sam's fault. This was all Sam's fault. Worse still, he was dying and Sam couldn't care less.
"You're not dying," Sam said, seeming to read his mind. "Stop. Fidgeting."
Dean opened his mouth to object, but closed it at another glare from his brother. He honestly didn't know how much more of this he could take.
"Dean, it's Beethoven, not Chinese water torture," Sam ground out.
Dean wasn't so sure. He'd cracked his collarbone while disposing of a ghost for a snooty suburban couple, bruised some ribs. Sam, horror of horrors, had mussed his hair. Trying to repay them, they'd given Sam a reward. Dean thought it was closer to a punishment. Two tickets to 'Symphony on the Square.' Dean had been sitting here for over an hour, feeling more bored and out of place than a zombie at a Tupperware party.
It was a beautiful summer evening. Just perfect for a cross-country drive, the window down, the breeze in his hair. Instead he was stuck here with a herd of old farts, among them his brother who he had a suspicion was born eighty years old, listening to the most boring music known to man. Not that Sam actually liked the music much either, but he seemed to be more appreciative of it, or at least more patient with it. Go figure.
To his dying day, Dean knew he would associate classical music with dancing hippos. When they were children, their dad had dumped them for a few days with a lady whose face he couldn't even bring to mind. In a desperate and misguided effort to keep them amused she'd taken them to the movies to see Fantasia. He couldn't remember much, but that freaking hippo was permanently imprinted on his brain.
Dean looked up at the makeshift stage in the center of the downtown square hearing an ugly sound. It was a bow being randomly drawn across a violin. The first violinist in the front row was struggling to breath, fighting something almost, his muscles contracting around the bow and instrument causing the ugly scratching noises coming from the violin.
Dean sprang to his feet. Almost automatically, Sam stood beside him. The man dropped the violin and began clawing at his throat. So fast Dean wasn't even sure he'd seen it, he caught the barest flicker of something standing behind the still struggling musician, almost like catching a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look it was gone.
Sam and Dean started forward as the man fell to the floor of the stage, weaving through the dumbstruck members of the crowd who were standing and watching as disaster unfolded in front of them.
The violinist was turning blue, still clawing at his throat almost as if he were trying to pry someone's fingers away. Dean flinched involuntarily as, with a final audible snap, the man's neck broke. Just like a switch had been thrown, the man fell limp, his hands landing back at his sides with a thump.
Sam and Dean pulled themselves up onto the stage and knelt beside him, already knowing it was useless. The guy was dead as a hammer.
Dean stood, sighing, ignoring the pain from his cracked collarbone. He hadn't done himself any favors pulling himself up onto the stage.
He stared down at the body. "Well, at least the concert's over."
Just a teaser... Site willing, more tomorrow.