AN: sorry guys!! so sorry! and really really big sorry to my Dean girls out there! i kinda...yeah. it kinda got limpage. hangs head and it's been so long since an UD. again, i apologize like whoa. this chapter is one of those one's you don't want to write cause, well, it's our boys, and we love them. ah well, guess we hurt the one's we love. anyway, i'm just borrowing from the great Kripke, so yeah. carry on!
For a fleeting second, Dean thought he was free; released from his mental prison. The interior of his beloved car met his gaze and the smells of leather, gasoline, and gun powder greeted his nose like an old friend. But as his eyes fell on his brother and he tried to speak, Dean realized that he had no control over his voice or his body. Under his fingers, he could feel the smooth surface of a gem, while leather seating pressed into his back. However, he could do nothing to quell his fingers' massage, nor could he move to help Sam.
"Tiffany, what's going on?" The shrill edge to Sam's voice drew Dean's attention like a moth to light. He felt his lips pull into a smirk, and noticed the two unnatural beings snaking their way towards the driver. Hey! Dean wanted to shout, Hey! Don't touch him! Get the fuck away from my brother!
But instead, Dean felt the rumble of his voice telling Sam smugly, "Well Sammy, I like this body, and need to keep it."
Dean growled, Sister, you ain't gettin' it.
"Of course," his voice continued, "that little spell requires much more energy..." Dean tuned out his own voice as those horrid chains continued on their path to Sam, climbing his lanky body.
No! Dean raged as his baby brother's eyes shown with fear. Don't touch him! He concentrated his will on getting his body to move, to follow his instructions. Focusing on his lips, Dean drove all his being into stopping the quell of revolting speech, to halt the witch in her tirade. ARGH! Coiling like a spring, Dean once again tried to lash out at Tiffany. His attack was met with the tinkling of her laugh, echoing through his head.
"What Dean, you think that works for a second time? I should thank Sammy, he brought all my gems along."
Dean could feel their weight, many cords and chains around his neck, but no matter how he willed his hands to yank them off, his fingers only continued rubbing the stone.
"Dean!" His attention snapped back to Sam, the panic in his voice throwing Dean into protective mode. "Stop her please!"
Sorrow flowed through Dean, I'm trying Sammy, I am. He watched, disgusted and helpless as Sam's hands were forced together by the metal under Tiffany's control. Their eyes met, and Dean knew that Sam could see how trapped both of them were. The witch's laugh echoed again, and this time, Dean's body also joined in, unbidden by its true owner.
As a man who expressed himself physically, Dean's spirit raged against the alien force in his body. His every nerve screamed for him to beat Tiffany into a bloody pulp, and to protect his brother. But none of the tricks he used before worked. Dean lashed out against the witch's confining presence, but to no avail. Apprehension leaked into the pit of his stomach as his body once again moved into action.
"C'mon dear, let Tiffany drive now." Dean wondered if she felt the same nausea he did as they leaned in towards Sam, reaching for his bound arms. He hoped the same stab of guilt assailed her as Sam jerked back against the door, putting as much space between them as he possibly could. That knife twisted as Dean refused to meet his brother's frightened stare. Fuck Sammy, I'm sorry. All my fault. It's all my fault. Or possibly this bitch's.
"Watch your tone boy." Her voice sneered between his ears. "The things I could make you do to your precious brother. This trunk has so many lovely toys."
A growl shook through Dean's psyche that had no effect on his body. No effect whatsoever as his hands jerked at Sam, dragging them both across the seat, and opened the door.
What are you doing? Dean couldn't shake the hysteria though he tried to hide it from Tiffany.
"What're you doing?" Sam echoed, without the mask over his panic. "Hey! TIffany! Dean! Whoever you are, talk to me!"
As the witch shoved Sam to the ground, a derisive sneer played across Dean's features. "Oh, don't worry. Nothing yet for you. If brother dear behaves himself."
Though Dean's hand reached for the back door, he really wanted it to be throttling Tiffany. Hell, at this point, if choking himself got rid of her, he'd love the feel of fingers cutting off his own air. However, they just proceeded to grip Sam's upper arms, heaving his younger brother across the back-seat of the Impala. Dean's inward sigh of relief was halted as he unwillingly leaned forward to root around under the front seat. A boot crashed into his ribs, causing TIffany to curse in some forgotten language.
"Sorry Dean." Sam grunted as he brought his leg up as far as the cramped position would allow, and slammed it into his brother's shoulder, driving the witch from the car. On the contrary, Dean was cheering inside. He mentally put his fist into the air as he felt the waves of pain and anger emanating from the parasite in him.
Stumbling out of the car, the witch tapped into Dean's fight training and once again dove into the classic. The Impala shook as each fighter tried to gain the upper-hand. Both fought for their lives, but as Sam was fettered, TIffany eventually got his legs pinned beneath Dean's powerful arms. Both were breathing hard, but as glee shown in the victor, Sam couldn't keep the alarm from clouding his eyes. He knew that Tiffany would make him pay.
Dean had watched the whole exchange as a spectator would at his favorite wrestling match. He hurled insults and tried to distract the witch as he egged his brother on. He fell into apprehensive silence, however, as Tiffany resumed search under the front seat, arm still locked like steel around Sam's struggling legs.
Now, the Winchesters didn't live in filth, and Dean was nearly anal when it came to his baby, but he wouldn't stick his hand underneath their seats for anything less than a free trip to Vegas. Every feeling suddenly magnified under a neutron microscope as Dean's uncontrolled digits grasped at cloth. Sonova-! NO! He knew she was listening. Don't you freaking dare, you sick psycho bitch!
Her only response was to giggle in a sick mockery of a child. Tiffany reveled in the anger jolting through her host's body. She was a sadist by nature, but her death and reanimation triggered something akin to that of a mass murder's psychosis.
The rag was old, most likely stashed there during Dean's reinvention of the classic car. Navy material was spotted with black stains of motor oil and dirt, edges frayed and holed in places.
Nausea gripped both brothers as they arrived at the same conclusion: where that wretched bit of cloth was going to go.
"What?" Sam tried again to kick out with his legs. Again, Dean felt the muscles in his arms strain to keep his brother down. His mental tirade turned unintelligible, hurling plots of revenge and insults. He had seen the damage caused by the shape-shifter that took his form. It seemed so long ago, but the unconscious nervous twitches that plagued Sam in the weeks after were still fresh in Dean's mind. He knew that Sam looked up to him. To have that image distorted, yet again, by this creature of revenge, was near unbearable. As anger swelled, so did remorse. His chaotic thoughts whirled to Max Miller and what his family did. God Sammy, this isn't me. I'll get us through this, I promise.
"Ha!" Came her screeching voice as she forced Dean's body to slam his lower leg across Sam's knees. "Dean, ever notice something about your promises? How you never keep them?"
A grunt of exertion accompanied a cry of pain as Sam's legs became trapped beneath one of Dean's. Normally, a fight would be evenly matched, but the small interior of the car aided the elder Winchester's compact frame.
"No, no. Tiffany, don't! Shit, that thing is disgusting!" In a different world, Dean would've laughed at the grossed out expression on his baby brother's face. Right now, he couldn't tell which urge was larger: to punch a wall, or to crawl into a hold. The violent tendency won out as Dean felt himself lean forward. A wordless cry of rage went unheard to the world as Tiffany pulled Dean's fingers through the caked cloth, only serving to let him know exactly what was going to silence his brother. Dean redoubled his mental onslaught, ruthlessly pounding against the barriers within his skin. But as the rag passed Sam's lips, muffling his protests, the only thing he knew Tiffany felt was the bile rising in his throat. Reflected off her was a disturbed pleasure and growing sense of accomplishment. The vicious knots were tied and her emotions choked Dean as cloth and motor oil choked Sam.
Having grown up around gas and mechanics, both men knew the dangers of inhalation. Though the rag wasn't soaked in it, the fumes still projected a noxious smell and were just as potent as a freshly opened bottle. Fear stabbed at Dean's guts as Sam began to cough and Tiffany hummed a tune in his mind. SHUT UP! Clear green eyes held focus only for Sam. Don't die on me Sammy. It's not enough to kill, right? Dammit, that'd better not be!
Sam's back curled as he began to choke, unable to escape the vicious stench. His eyes watered and his hands jerked up to remove the gag. Dean's fear and frustration grew exponentially, punctuated only by his never ending promises of death, maiming, and revenge. If Tiffany hadn't been controlling his breath, it would've hitched as Sam's eyes fluttered then closed completely, his movements ceasing. SAMMY! Is he breathing? Bitch, he'd better be breathing! And for once, Dean's shanghaied body moved as he willed it, checking his brother for a pulse. As the comforting thud of Sam's heart jumped against Dean's fingertips, her laughter once again echoed through him.
"You're so easy to control."
And as he fell back through the oblivion, Dean was horrified to realize that he was no more in control than he ever was.
so if y'all aren't totally freaked out, or even if you are, reviews are excellent, and may give you more chance of a quicker UD ;) goodnight, and goodluck.