Dead of Night (copy)This is a featured page

Dean dead, Sam holding him...

This is a featured page
Dean woke up gradually. His first thought was that it was full night, and he realized he must have been here for hours because it wasn’t even close to sunset when he came face to face with that Voodoo b*tch. Something was soaking into his jeans and shirt and he could smell pee and maybe something worse underneath – he hoped he wasn’t laying in anything except water. He tried lifting his head but nothing seemed to be working: he couldn’t shout out, he couldn’t even blink.
‘Sonofabitch!’ he thought. ‘How’m I going to find Sammy now?’

It seemed ages but it probably was only a few minutes later when he heard footsteps in the alleyway. ‘God, please let it just be a harmless drunk!’ he thought to himself. He’d never felt so helpless – even when he’d been chained by demons he still had some control over his body. The footsteps slowed and someone knelt down beside him. He could feel hands turning him over gently onto his back, but the light from Main Street was too dim to illuminate the face over him. Then he heard a sob and recognized who made that sound.
‘Sammy!’ he shouted, but it was only in his head.
‘Dean, why didn’t you wait for me?’ Sam groaned.

Sam lifted him up, supporting his head and shoulders because Dean couldn’t. He could feel Sam’s tears falling on his face and tried to turn his head.
‘Cut it out, Sammy!’ he growled, but no sound escaped his lips – his body still wouldn’t obey him.
Then Bobby came into view. He stopped when he saw Sam holding Dean. Dean’s eyes were clear and seemed to look at Bobby, but they held no recognition and were obviously sightless. Dean’s face held a slightly surprised look, but otherwise it stayed smooth, there was no animation there. Bobby’s face registered shock and pain for a few seconds, but he took control of himself and said, ‘What the Hell happened?’
‘I was jumped by that Voodoo priestess!’ Dean exclaimed, but no-one heard him.
‘I don’t know. I got Dean’s message that he’d found that Voodoo woman but I was held up across town – the car wouldn’t start – so I was late getting here, too late for Dean’, said Sam, tears staining his face.
‘Was he stabbed or shot, or what? I can’t see any blood. Have you checked his pulse, his breathing?’ asked Bobby urgently. He’d seen plenty of dead men and he knew deep down it was hopeless but he still had to hope, still had to ask, if only to delay the inevitable.
‘What do you think?’ said Sam angrily. ‘It was the first thing I checked but he’s gone, he’s gone, and there aren’t even any marks on him!’
‘No, I haven’t gone, Sammy!’ shouted Dean. ‘I’m not dead; I don’t think I’m dead, I’m still here!’

Dean felt Sam close his eyes. He was gently lifted up and carried over Sam’s shoulder back to the Impala, then laid carefully on the back seat.
‘Hello, Baby!’ he murmured sleepily; ‘I’m back.’

Dean woke up. He couldn’t open his eyes but he knew he was at Bobby’s from the distinctive smell of his home-distilled whisky and all the herbs he kept around the place – besides, where else would they take him? They’d laid him out on what felt like Bobby’s book table; his hands were folded across his middle and a sheet was pulled up to his chin.

Sam came in. ‘Hey, Dean’, he said quietly. ‘I’m sorry, I let you down; I should’ve been there. I promise I’ll take care of that woman once we’ve looked after you... Man, I miss you!’
‘Sam, no hunter’s burial, please! I’m alive, can’t you tell? I can feel everythin’!’
Bobby walked in. ‘Time we got this show on the road, kid!’ he growled.
‘Just saying my goodbyes, Bobby. Haven’t you got anythin’ to say?’ he mumbled.
‘Go and check the graveside, idgit.’
Bobby pulled a chair up and sat down next to Dean’s head.
‘Sorry, kid, I should’ve been lookin’ after you, but I’ve gotten so used to you takin’ care of everyone I never thought this would happen! I’ll look after Sam, don’t worry. And me and Sam, we’re so proud of you! So was your Dad, even if he never told you enough’, he added under his breath, ‘and I’ve always loved you like my own son.’
‘Damn it! How come no-one ever says this when you’re around to appreciate it?’ Dean was both touched and amused, but then he remembered the graveside. ‘Hey, I don’t wanna be buried neither, Bobby!’

Dean had fallen asleep again. He woke up with a scream echoing around his head and remembered a disturbing dream about that Voodoo woman – what was she called, Maman Brigitte? She had called to him from the end of a long, dark road and he knew he had no free will; he had to do whatever she told him. Sweat beaded his face as he tried to stop himself from walking towards her but her mind pulled him anyway and he stumbled on jerkily. She was standing beside an old, black rock and someone was chained on top of it. She smiled cruelly at him and held out a cleaver whose edge shone brightly even in that poor light, and he had to take it. Even as he raised it to strike, the man looked over at him and he saw it was Sammy as he brought the blade down... the scream in his head was his own! What had she done to him? He remembered he’d followed her into the alley and grabbed her, but she’d turned in his grasp like an eel and blew some powder in his face, and that was it, nothing more until Sammy found him.
‘What‘s wrong with me? I’m awake for a bit and then I can’t stop myself from falling asleep! And that dream – somehow I don’t think it’s the first time I’ve had it!’ As he came fully awake he found himself in complete darkness: no light filtered through his eyelids and the air smelled stale and damp, earthy. ‘Oh God, no!’ he moaned.

Sam and Bobby waited in the Impala, as they had for nearly a day now, hidden from the Voodoo woman’s shack. Sam was driving Dean’s car now, but he was only the caretaker; it would always be Dean’s. He felt a grief that filled him so completely it threatened to overwhelm him, and the Impala just made it worse. He kept expecting Dean to knock on the car window and make him jump with surprise: Dean would laugh as he slid into the driver’s side and started playing one of his five favorite albums. His voice was enthusiastic but out of tune, yet not hearing him sing along left the car sad and empty. He couldn’t get rid of her though, she was Dean’s ‘baby’ and he’d promised Dean he’d look after her if anything happened to him. Besides, it was the only thing he had left to connect him to his brother… God, what was he supposed to do now? He’d take revenge on that b*tch for Dean, but then what? He couldn’t carry on hunting without his brother, no way, not again…
‘Where the hell is she?’ demanded Bobby, breaking into Sam’s thoughts. He was just going to reply when she appeared out of the woods at the back. She was carrying something bloody…

Sam started to get out of the car when Bobby pulled him back. ‘Look, she’s a powerful priestess, remember? We can’t just go in there all guns blazin’! Take this charm and make sure you keep it on you; it’ll protect you from some of her power at least, according to that Hoodoo man I saw yesterday. I’d like to find out what she did to Dean before we send her off to meet her gods! I’ll go around back; you head in through the front.’
Sam inched in through the front door and heard her moving around in another room; then he heard Bobby forcing a window.

Dean knew they’d buried him – the smell of a grave was very familiar – but at least they hadn’t burned him! Then again, he wouldn’t last long down here with no fresh air, water or food!
‘Am I even breathin'?’ he asked himself. He decided he was: he could feel the air moving slowly in and out of his lungs, but so faintly it was no wonder Sammy thought he’d stopped breathing, and now he concentrated he could feel a very faint pulse as his blood moved sluggishly around his body. No way to get out though, he couldn’t dig himself out; he’d probably go mad before he died. Then Maman Brigitte entered his mind and there was no room for any of his own thoughts anymore…

Sam drew his gun and moved towards the room she was in. He looked carefully around the open door and saw her tending what looked like an altar. He stepped in noiselessly but she stiffened anyway and said in a lilting voice, ‘Come in, Sam, and bring your friend Bobby, too.’
Bobby appeared, shotgun pointed directly at her, but she smiled and said, ‘How’s Dean doing; is he dead yet?’
‘You know he’s dead, you killed him, you b*tch!’ snarled Sam.
‘No, no, no, I didn’t, you did when you buried him! He merely sleeps for now, but he’s already bound to me, dreaming in his coffin! He’ll make a fine zombie when he finally dies.’
She laughed delightedly at Sam’s and Bobby’s stricken faces.
‘I was going to leave you two alone – Dean is the one I want after he killed my sister in New Orleans – but now you’ve found me, I can’t let you go. I think I’ll use Dean to take care of you both, and he’ll be screaming inside while he does it!’
Bobby fired his shotgun just as coloured smoke swirled where she had stood a second earlier, but she’d vanished, and suddenly there was a red dust in the air which sent them coughing to their knees, then into unconsciousness.

Sam and Bobby awoke abruptly. They were tied side by side on slabs of old, polished black rock in a clearing in the woods. They could only turn their heads; there was no give in the ropes. The priestess caressed Sam’s face and as he turned away in disgust, he saw a figure walking like a puppet with broken strings towards them. The man looked wild: his eyes stared, red and unblinking; his face and hands were dirt-streaked; his clothes were torn and, like his hair, were covered in leaves and blades of grass.
‘Behold, your brother!’ she shouted.
‘Dean, don’t listen to her, kill her!’ Bobby barked.
‘Fight it, Dean’, pleaded Sam.
Dean turned towards them, but he showed no recognition and turned back to face Brigitte. She scrutinized him long and hard.
‘Stretch out your right arm!’ she commanded. Dean did so. She brought a long, sharp needle out of her pocket and without any warning she stabbed it into Dean’s bare forearm. Dean didn’t flinch, not even when the needle was buried deep. Sam moaned at this and she stared triumphantly back at him and Bobby.
‘Very good!’ she purred to Dean. ‘Now, kill these two men!’ she said, handing him a sharp cleaver.
Dean raised it high, then, impossibly, he winked at Sam, pivoted neatly and sliced at the priestess, taking her head clean off…

‘Sonofab*tch that hurts like Hell now!’ he said, rubbing his arm.
‘Dean, what just happened here?’ asked Sam, bewildered.
‘Well, I climbed out of my grave again – this is getting a habit, guys – and all I could think about was Brigitte’s voice. I tripped over a tree root and my ‘God-finder’ charm fell inside my shirt and touched my skin and suddenly my head was clear. I could still hear Brigitte but she wasn’t controllin’ me anymore. Good job you rescued it and put it round my neck when you buried me, Sammy, otherwise we’d all be done for!’
‘But how did you manage to keep still when she stuck you with that needle?’ Bobby asked.
Well, when your ass is on the line… and I’ve seen enough zombie movies so I guessed somethin’ like this might happen… so it helps if you have Pamela to hypnotize you into feelin’ no pain for a while’, laughed Dean. Bobby and Sam joined in.

Story Copyright © 2013 Spnfanforever

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