"Feel the undertow inside me" - Metallica
He's yelling at Dean to wake up. He's shaking Dean, pounding his chest, but there's nothing and he doesn't understand what happened. There's still urgent knocking at the door and he can hear voices calling for Sam Halford. He stares at the door and thinks: The demon has come back to break the spell. Thank God.
The chalk outline of the sigil is still there. It's in the shape of a half moon. The shape reminds him of something. He moves toward the door, hand already outstretch for the knob although he's still halfway across the room. The shape looks like a wing. And he remembers:
That's an ugly little fucker, Dean says, looking over Sam's shoulder. They're looking at the sketch in Dad's journal. Some kind of creature on two legs, covered in black fur. Two wings that end in little claws, like some kind of freakin' bat boy. Red eyes and a beak filled with razor teeth. What has a beak with teeth, Dean wants to know. That's just wrong. It's an Aswang, Sam tells him. Pretty easy to kill but it's a real bitch all the same because its touch is deadly. Don't let it touch you, Sam says. Promise me you'll be careful. Dean grins, cocky and self assured. I will if you will. Promise me, Sam repeats. Dean winks. I promise, College Boy.
The door bursts open and there's a guy yelling at Sam, but Sam doesn't really care. The yelling guy is wearing a blue uniform and the part of Sam's brain that is still functioning in a normal capacity notes that it's a cop. There are two more behind him and off to the side is Nathan. Nathan. The demon.
The part of Sam's brain that is still functioning is growing rapidly smaller. He doesn't have time for thinking. He only has time for action. The cop is still yelling, he wants Sam to get down and drop the gun and step away from the bed and a shit load of other things Sam doesn't give a flying fuck about. He's too busy pointing a rifle and screaming "Cristo!" at the top of his lungs. Maybe over the top of his lungs because he can't really breathe very well, there seems to be some kind of problem regarding oxygen. Or more accurately: The lack of it.
He tries to blast Nathan with rock salt but the first cop is in the way and there's no time to reload. Another shot rings out and Sam feels the same hook that was pulling at his throat lodge in his shoulder instead and presto! the gun is out of his hands and he's on his back, as if by magic. He blinks up at the ceiling, amazed at the trick.
There are feet all around him and someone is grabbing his arms but he shakes the hands off and propels himself to Dean.
"It's okay," he says, "he's not really dead. He's been cursed. He's only sleeping." They are trying to pry him off of Dean and the yelling is constant but he can hear another voice that wavers and pleads and sounds all together shitty. He doesn't have time to figure out who it belongs to because someone is pulling at him and he notices his shoulder seems to be on fire. Someone lit his shoulder on fire. What the hell?
"It's okay," he says. The words fall from his lips like rain because his face is wet. His shirt is wet. His shoulder is on fire and yet it's raining. In the hotel room. He can't wait to tell Dean about all this. "I have to wake him up," Sam explains. "I have to take care of him."
Later, the Sheriff will lay awake in bed and tell his wife about the kid at the hotel. He will tell her how the kid would not let go of his dead brother. The kid--his name was Sam--insisted his brother was alive, although it was obvious to everyone his brother had been dead for at least two or three days. It was obvious to everyone except Sam. Sam with the wild hair and the eyes, those eyes! that look like cigarette burns and the hoarse voice that will not shut up. He will lay awake and hear the kid screaming that fucking mantra for weeks after.
Right now the Sheriff is kneeling in front of Sam and talking in a soothing voice. He's trying the soothing voice thing because the threats and yelling didn't help. Neither did shooting him. He's pretty sure the kid doesn't even know he's been shot. His deputy is on the horn calling for the paramedics and the M.E. He can't tell if the kid killed his brother or what. From the sheer amount of denial the kid has going on, the Sheriff thinks maybe not. The room stinks of death and some kind of incense and he just wants to pry the hysterical kid off his brother's corpse and go home. He wants to stand in a hot shower for about ten hours straight and wash the misery of this place away.
Sam's hand is clamped around Dean's wrist like his brother is the last life boat in the world. He's finding it hard to see or hear but since no one is saying anything he wants to hear it doesn't matter. He puts his face next to Dean's and Dean smiles up at him. "This is some situation you got yourself in, kiddo."
For some reason Sam can't talk because his throat is broken and he can't get a deep enough breath to fix it. So he looks at Dean and thinks at him: You're not dead.
"That's where you're wrong, little brother. I've been dead for a while. It's just taken some time for you to catch on." Dean pats Sam's hand and looks at him with penny eyes.
I would have known, Sam gabbles, I would have known!
"Sam, you did know," Dean says gently. "I'm not even here. I'm gone. You're making up everything I say. I'm not even talking to you right now. I wish I was." He taps his head with one finger, "But this is all you."
No! Come back Dean. Please! I'll do anything. I'll do whatever you want. I'm begging you, I am begging you, Dean. Please don't leave me.
Someone in a coat squats down beside Sam and plunges a needle into his arm. It's his fire arm, but he doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel anything but a great wave of darkness whistling toward him.
He's standing on a beach with Dean and the sky is falling and there's a black wave rushing up and the last thing he hears is Dean saying: "I'm already gone."
Vague translation of Latin: "What was done be undone; Let the light cast out the darkness; Cleanse the soul and let the curse be broken."
(If anyone is interested, I have started a sequel.) Thanks for reading!