Author's Note: Wow. I thought I'd never get this up. To be honest this was on my computer for...um longer than 2 months. I really have no excuse for not putting it up but it's up now so forgive me? Anyway, there's only three parts and it's done, so updates will be coming soon. And I mean it this time.
Please review. Just because it's done does not mean I do not listen to suggestions. Trust me I overhauled the whole second part of Second Sight after it was done because I had a better idea. Oh! And this is my entry to SFTCOL(AR)S. So fellow SFTCOLARS please enjoy!
Walking On Thin Ice
On a frozen pond.
Suddenly we hear ice break
right below our feet.
Instantly your hand finds mine;
together we reach safe ground.
"It's kinda ironic once you start thinking about it..." Dean stated out of the blue as the brisk air whipped across his face.
"What is?" Sam asked as he attempted to keep up with Dean's pace. The fourteen-year-old may have just had another one of his growth spurts, but he still had a couple more inches to go before he reached Dean's six foot height.
Ignoring his brother's obvious struggle, Dean continued on through the crisp, fall leaves, searching for the yuki-onna their dad warned them about. "We tracking down an ice demon in Erie, Ohio." He paused for a moment, hoping his oblivious little brother would catch on. Sam just stared at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for the punch line. "The town has to be called 'eerie' for a reason!"
Sam simple rolled his eyes and continued to towards Dean. "First of all, Erie is not a town it's lake. Second of all, it's not called Erie because it's creepy or evidently infested with an ice demon. It's named after a Native American tribe that used to live here."
Some may call him paranoid, but Dean could hear the underlining dumbass in that statement. "Still a stupid name...right up there with yuki-onna," he muttered beneath his breath as he continued to walk along the coastline of Lake Erie. Sometimes he swore Sam's head should explode from the pressure of useless facts.
Strange name or not, it didn't hide the fact that four bodies were found deprived of all body heat along the shoreline over the past three months. It wouldn't be too strange for people to die of hypothermia in the chilly regions of northern Ohio, except for it was the middle of September and Jack Frost still had another month or two before he arrived.
So after three days of research, mostly conducted by the fourteen-year-old brainiac, the three hunters found themselves hunting for some type of ice demon that needed body heat in order to stay alive.
"So, what exactly are we looking for again?" the lanky teenager anxiously asked as he continued to try to keep up with his brother. Sam had only started hunting two years ago, and this was his first time hunting a demon of any sorts.
Dean paused for a moment and looked at his too-tall little brother. The kid had better stop growing soon or else he'd surpass Dean. "For a kid with such freakishly large ears, you sure do have a hard time hearin'," Dean taunted as he turned back around and continued his way down the shore.
Sam immediately raised his hand to the side of his head. "I do not have big ears!" he replied, reassuring himself more than his brother.
Rolling his eyes, Dean inwardly smiled at how he still had a domineering effect on Sammy. "Since this is an ice demon of some sorts we are looking for sulfuric traces," he plainly stated as he stepped over a piece of drift wood. Grimacing as the gritty sand filled his shoes, he inwardly cursed at his stupidity for wearing tennis shoes on the beach.
Dean turned his brother and smirked. "Anything and everything. That's the magic of demons, anything could be a sign. Anything out of the ordinary, that is." He didn't want to admit it to his little brother, but this was his first time hunting a yuki-onna. Besides Japanese folklore and the typical signs for a demon, there wasn't much else to go on.
"How do we even know to look here?" Sam did most of the research, and while three of the four bodies died of hypothermia along the shore, without a drop of water on them, the second death happened in the woman's house. She was safe in her own bed when the "disease" struck her. She froze to death covered in blankets, hand merely inches away from the phone to call for help. "You know, the last one was found in her bed. Maybe the demon moved on," Sam said in a condescending tone Dean didn't like one bit.
"Dad sent us here. He wouldn't send us here without a reason," Dean answered, exasperated by the constant onslaught of questions. Dean swore if he didn't shut up soon, the kid would find himself thrown into the murky water. "Hell, Sammy, you read the reports. Every single person was along this shore within twenty-four hours before they died. Where the hell else are we supposed to look?!" Dean asked incredulously.
"I don't know," Sammy shrugged. "I mean if looking here is so important, then why isn't Dad helping us?"
Dean clenched his jaw and bunch his hands into fists. He did not know what was with Sammy lately but ever since he kid turned fourteen he had been constantly questioning their father's decisions. And for some reason, since the kid still hadn't had the courage to face his dad directly, Dean got the joy of hearing most of it. "I don't know, Sam," he ground out. "It's probably because he's busy talking to the victim's families."
"Did he tell you that?"
The twerp must have a death sentence. "Yes, as a matter of fact he did," Dean answered, trying his best to keep his voice under control. "Any other questions, Curious George, or can we finally focus on what Dad sent us here to do?" He turned to face Sam only to find him completely not paying attention. Dean opened his mouth to berate his brother a bit more, but was instantly cut off by Sam raising his hand.
Gelu mos effluo in vestri tergum quod animus
It was just a breath of air, but as it whistled past the boy's ears he could almost make out the words. "I think I hear something," Sammy stated, his head slightly tilted to the side.
Looking at Sam's preposterous stance, Dean couldn't help but take a jab. "Who knew your freakishly large ears would come in handy?"
Vicis mos congelo dum alius permoveo
"Shh! I heard it again."
All joking aside, Sammy sudden case of schizophrenia was starting to scare him a little. Dean cautiously stepped toward his brother. "Sammy, I don't hear anything."
Sam never moved a muscle, as if an invisible angel was whispering him secrets. Eyebrows raised, Dean continued to watch, fear brewing in his stomach. As if sensing his older brother's unease, Sam finally relaxed. His shoulders slumped as he exhaled, almost looking disappointed. "It must have been the wind."
Dean looked around him for a moment, picking up on something that never occurred to him before. "Sammy, there is no wind."
The statement instantly caught the boy's attention. "What?"
"There isn't any wind." Dean was beginning to wonder if Sammy's freakishly large ears worked so great after all.
Face scrunched with disbelief, Sammy walked past Dean towards the lake. The usually lively waters were still as stone. As he approached the edge, he gazed at his glassy reflection, undisturbed by even the smallest ripple. Looking back up at his brother, he whispered, "Nothing's moving."
"Yeah, so?" Dean asked, his brow furrowed with confusion.
Rolling his eyes, Sam explained, "Listen, there's nothing, not even a bird. You're the one who said anything abnormal is a sign. Well, I would consider this pretty abnormal."
Dean glanced around him for a moment before turning back towards Sammy. "Okay, we should definitely tell Dad about this place. Let's head on out of here." As Sam walked past him, he put his arm around the boy's shoulder. "You did good, Sammy."
Sam glanced up and him and smirked. "You don't need to tell me."
Quirking an eyebrow, Dean slid his arm around Sam's neck to hold him still while he ruffled his hair. "Wiseass."
Sam's eyes instantly snapped open, taking in his surroundings. He automatically knew he hadn't been asleep for long as he gazed around the enclosing darkness. Goosebumps raced up and down his arms as he rolled his head to the side. Dean's soft snores echoed throughout the small room, completely oblivious to Sam's anxiety.
He wasn't sure what he had heard. But something made him think back to the young voice that drifted along shoreline earlier that day.
Sam slowly sat up, alert and ready to pounce on any looming shadows or vengeful spirits. He never woke up in the middle of the night, at least not without a nightmare involved. Seeing no impending signs of danger, he finally relaxed, melting into the soft bed. The moment his eyes drifted closed, a sharp, cold chill raced up and down his spine, snapping him awake once more. Sighing with frustration, Sam groggily grabbed the large comforter at the end of the bed and yanked it on top of him.
Without another sound, he drifted off to sleep, warm in his own personal cocoon.
Dean turned his head and tried to shut out his little brother's voice. The kid must be part rooster with the insane times he woke up fresh as a daisy. Hopefully, Sammy would get a clue and leave him alone for another hour.
Or not. Sighing, Dean flipped back over towards the voice and grumbled, "What?"
The soft, scared tone of the boy's voice finally registered in Dean's mind. Bolting upright, Dean turned his complete attention the lump underneath the large comforter. "What?" he asked, praying to God he heard the kid wrong.
"Sssomething's w-wrong," echoed throughout the room, obviously forced through chattering teeth.
In one quick stride, he leaped to the other side of the room and yanked back the covers. "Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed as he took in the sight of his shivering little brother curled up in the fetal position. He cautiously extended his hand and placed in on the boy's arm. "Holy shit, Sammy, you're as cold as ice! How long have you been like this?" he asked his eyes wide with concern.
"I-I d-don't know. I j-just kinda woke up l-like th-this." Sammy took in a loud shuddering breath afterwards as if it took all his strength just to talk. His pale lips quivering, he weakly looked up at Dean.
Transfixed by his brother's imploring stare, Dean stated in the calmest voice he could find, "It's going to be okay, Sammy. I'm gonna go wake Dad." He grabbed the large comforter and placed it over his brother and added his own blanket for good measure. Making sure the blankets were tucked tightly around Sammy, he glanced one last time at his brother's pale face. Seeing Sam nod, he quickly walked towards the door.
Burrowing himself underneath the covers, Sammy wrapped his arms around himself. He could hear his brother yelling for his father on the other side of the door. Sam wasn't an idiot; he knew if Dean didn't get help soon, he would freeze beneath the blankets. After all, he was the one who hacked into the police station's database and saw found the photos of the previous victims. Yet somewhere beyond his common sense, he wasn't scared. Dean would fix it. He would find the answer in the knick of time just as he did thousands of times beforehand.
At this point, thoughts of independence and self-sacrifice was the last thing going through Sam's head. He just wanted to get warm...fast.
As Sam moved his legs around trying to generate heat between them, a soft breath of air whistled past his face.
He heard the soft mutterings, almost maternal in nature, yet he couldn't make out what it was saying. He was pretty sure it was in Latin, after all it was demons' native language, he just couldn't get his numb ears to focus on the words. Before he could contemplate any longer on the floating voice the door slammed open and his father rushed into the room in an old t-shirt and sweatpants.
"Sammy?!" John exclaimed, sounding much too harsh to Sam's sensitive ears. John quickly peeled back the covers to reveal Sam's trembling body beneath. "Dammit, Dean. When did this start?!" he shouted as he turned around to his eldest son standing at the foot of the bed.
Looking down at his feet, Dean answered, "I don't know. I ju-"
That immediately caught John's attention. "What do you mean you don't know? Sammy's your responsibility." He opened his mouth to say more but was cut off by the soft, trembling voice coming from the bed.
"I'm fff-fourteen Dad. I can t-take care of mmm-myself," Sammy proudly stated as he weakly grasped at the comforter and brought it around his lanky body.
Unable to deal with Sam's stubborn nature, John just sighed and ran a rough hand over his face, looking much older than his forty-three years. He turned towards Dean, who was still stationed at the foot of the bed looking down at his feet. "Dean," he stated with an air of authority. Dean instantly snapped his head up, his face void of any emotion. "I have a pretty good idea where I can find this bastard demon. I'm gonna go hunt it down. You stay here with Sammy. If he gets any worse, get him into the shower and spray lukewarm water on him. Okay?"
"Yes, Sir." Dean remained motionless as John walked past him. When he finally heard the door close, he rushed to Sam's side and retucked the blankets around him, making sure his brother was as warm as possible.
Seemingly unaware of Dean's mothering, Sam relaxed against his pillow, his eyes drooping. Dean slightly smiled as he gently rubbed the hand on Sam's head. He swore the kid looked like he was six when he was tired. Why did it always have to be Sammy? It was as if the boy's sweet, innocent nature called out to the paranormal.
Unable to stay awake any longer, Sam slowly closed his eyes. Forem absentis rang through his head as he drifted off, and for the first time he could understand the words.
AN2: As stated above, the poem is by Keskonrix. Visit the site at: www. fictionpress. com /s/ 2121273 /1/ (without the spaces)