Season Two

Episode Three: Laura

By Kittsbud

Part Two

Bear Valley Community Hospital
Big Bear Lake, California

The waiting room was an unusually pleasant area considering its purpose, just like the hospital it belonged to. Even the chairs seemed more comfortable than usual to Sam as he sat quietly across from his brother.

Pity then, that the inviting surroundings did little to allay the churning sensation in his stomach. It was like Laura had stuck him with the knife too, twisting and turning it until he admitted his guilt. I shouldn’t have let her get away. A shoulder shot would have been enough to stop her. He rubbed at the middle of his palm absently – anything to focus on rather than Dean. We caused this, we banished her soul…

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much blood…” Dean broke the awkward silence, swallowing hard as Sam’s gaze at last locked with his. He can finally look at me again. Can finally dare to see my eyes and hope they’re not the demon’s.

“It was our fault, Dean. This whole mess is.” Sam kept his voice level, knowing his brother wouldn’t appreciate the suggestion. “We exorcized Laura’s soul without even thinking there might be implications if she ever woke up.”

“Dude, you’re telling me you actually thought the whole freeze me, defrost me crap would ever work? Cos I’m telling you I kinda had the whole deal pegged as some guy’s get rich quick scheme…” Dean crossed his arms and glanced around the waiting room impatiently, fidgeting with his jacket as if it would somehow bring news of Kyle all the more quickly.

Sam took in every movement, every staggered breath his brother made, knowing Dean was still struggling with the unnatural anger he’d exhibited in the cabin. It had only been a brief slip, but Sam had seen the demon’s presence in all its glory, and it had scared him.

Every time Dean got angry, every time he became agitated, it seemed to fuel Haris’s child and give it a stronger grip on his brother’s consciousness. How long can he stay in control, even if the amulet’s helping? “It doesn’t matter what we thought. The retrieval process worked, and we never factored that into our thinking. Kyle is our fault…all the deaths are our fault…”

“Moses isn’t gonna die, Sammy.” The glare that crossed the room may not have come from raven-black eyes, but it was just as intense, just as scary. As he spoke, Dean’s hands trembled as they rested on his lap, the dried blood that still covered them the only proof of just how hard he’d tried to save the young priest’s life on their hasty journey to the nearest medical facility.

Sam took down a breath, unsure how to respond. It was always hard to lose a friend, but Kyle was just that little bit more. In a way, he’d almost become like family to the Winchesters. “Dean, you saw the wound…you have to admit the odds aren’t stacked in his favor. And the blood loss…the chances of infection…”

“Sam, don’t.”

The statement was short, final, and for the briefest of moments Sam could have swore he saw a glimmer of darkness tinge his brother’s eyes. Maybe it was his imagination after Laura’s cabin. Maybe it was even a trick of light as the overhead fluorescent tube flickered. But one thing he was sure of, Dean inwardly felt the blame for Kyle’s injuries as much as he did.

“If we’d only thought that night back at CryoGen…”

Dean pushed up from his seat, the same muscle-tensing anger abruptly attacking his body like it had back at Laura’s home. “Laura’s spirit was going around killing people for revenge, Sammy.” He turned his back to his brother, trying to hide the uncharacteristic tremors in his limbs as he fought for control of them. “Even if we hadn’t exorcized it and it had gotten back in her body, do you really think this chick would be a nice gal?”

Sam rubbed a hand across his brow. It was hard to know anything anymore with any certainty, but they had records to trust, statements to listen to, and they’d all said the same thing. “Laura’s parents and friends all said what a wonderful person she was. Man, why would someone who wanted to be a marine biologist suddenly turn into something out of a Stephen King novel?”

Dean took a calming breath and noted his quivering body was back under some semblance of control. Turning, he faced Sam in an attempt to sound rational. “Dude, this bitch’s doctors didn’t want her released. You think they gave a shit about her career choice once they saw what she’d become? I dunno, maybe it’s the whole freezing process. I mean, c’mon, Sammy, you said it yourself, why wasn’t this whole deal high profile? Laura is the first person to ever be full on thawed. I’m telling you, the only reason it’s not in the papers is because CryoGen know they created a monster!”

No, we did…Sam huffed and shook his head. “Maybe we all have a monster inside us somewhere…”

The remark wasn’t meant to hurt. It wasn’t meant to bite into his brother’s heart as if he’d plunged a knife there, but still, Sam knew from Dean’s reaction that his words had done just that.

How could he ever explain that he wasn’t talking about the demon within Dean, but about his own gifts? How could he ever tell Dean that it was his own torment he spoke of? Every minute, every hour he constantly thought of Haris and his veiled threats. Am I the monster? Am I to become evil, using the abilities I was given to hurt or worse?

Still, his own petty qualms were of little significance now. He could fight his own destiny far more easily than Dean could with Haris’s child inside him. “Dean, I didn’t mean…”

The elder hunter turned away again, this time more out of hurt feelings than rage. Sam just didn’t understand the pressure he was under, Sam didn’t know the constant torment from the thing inside his sibling, but worst of all, Sam didn’t realize the psychological burn his lack of confidence caused. He’ll never trust me like this…

Dean’s now steady hands slid into his jacket pockets and he stole a glance at the duty station in the corner. He’d been there six times already to ask if there was any news on Kyle’s condition, but what the hell, what was one more time, right? Enquiring about the injured priest was far more productive than having Sam try to convince him they’d been wrong to once exorcize Laura, not to mention have his brother’s puppy dog eyes glance at him one more time to make sure he was “still really Dean.”

“Dude, I’m going to ask about Kyle.” He pushed his shirt sleeve back and checked the time. “Feels like hours already…”

Sam watched as his brother swaggered up to the pretty brown haired girl at the desk and start to flirt. It was his mask, his façade to push away all the hurt in his life, and maybe Dean deserved that one guilty pleasure after all he’d suffered. I need to back off. He’s had enough already.

“I’ll go get coffee.” Sam raised his voice just loud enough to be sure Dean heard him over the top of his best pick up lines, and then the younger Winchester turned and headed for the drinks machine in the outer corridor. Lots of disturbingly black, caffeine enriched pleasure sounded like an awfully good plan, suddenly.

* * * *

Sam padded down the brightly lit passageway, his left hand slipping into his jeans pocket to rummage for spare change. He wasn’t really sure how long it had been since he and Dean had earned a real wage from a paying gig, and actual cash was in short supply.

They always had their phony credit cards to fall back on, but they weren’t much use when it came down to coins for occasions like this. After sifting through several more pockets, Sam eventually mustered up enough to buy two black coffees.

“So need to get a real job and retire from hunting,” he mumbled to no one in particular as he slid the coins into the awaiting slot and pressed “black, no sugar.”

The machine buzzed and a Styrofoam cup dropped, the hot water seeming to take forever to start to pour as Sam waited impatiently. I should never have argued with Dean about Laura while he’s…while he’s so upset…An image of eyes black and malevolent watching him made the young hunter shiver and he abruptly wished the hospital he now stood in could surgically remove the hellish thing inside his brother. If only it were that simple…

A short beep indicated the first coffee was ready and Sam slid it out, selecting another for Dean. While he waited again he looked around, hoping he wasn’t holding anyone up with the long-winded contraption before him.

Luckily, it seemed like not many people were getting hurt in Big Bear today, leaving the waiting room and adjoining corridor free for the Winchesters to argue and mope in – at least, almost free.

As Sam juggled to grab the second cup of coffee, he caught movement to his right. It was only a fleeting swatch of color in an otherwise blandly decorated area, and could easily have been a simple visitor or worker. But still, he was compelled by some sixth sense to look up and get a better view of the newcomer.

Sam sighed as he realized the girl was just a nurse scurrying away from him and into the next section of the building. She was a medium-sized blonde, not exceptionally pretty, but not unpleasing to the eye, either. Dean would have loved to work his charms on her, no doubt.

Sam frowned, quickly settling the two coffees down to jog to the end of the hallway and take another look. The nurse was familiar – too familiar in fact. The uniform had been a distraction, taking his focus away from her features, but the more he thought about it, the more she reminded him of Laura Mitchell. What if she followed us here somehow to finish off Kyle?

It was an impossible, crazy notion, but then Laura had been certified insane at one point after her “retrieval.”

Forgetting the much-needed caffeine break, Sam began to cautiously follow the girl. If it really was Laura, he had to get closer. He had to be sure before he approached her that he wasn’t accusing a totally innocent young nurse.

Keeping a safe distance, Sam tailed the girl until she turned into a second corridor. At the intersection, he waited a few seconds, back to the wall, not wanting her to hear his soft footfalls on the linoleum and turn to catch him.

After counting under his breath, he swung his overly-tall body out into the passageway and scanned its length for the nurse. “Crap!”

The blonde had somehow vanished as if she’d hit superspeed.

Sam chided himself for the miscalculation and checked out the arrows on the walls displaying different sections of the hospital. According to the markers, there were four rooms or areas off of the corridor. To complicate things, there was no one around to ask if they’d seen the girl.

Sam paused, wondering if he should return to the waiting area and get his brother. Yeah right, and he’ll cream my ass if this is just some poor nurse and my overactive imagination…

Sam didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want to aggravate Dean more with the possible presence of Laura, only for it to turn out to be a real nurse.

Slipping a hand under his jacket, Sam let his fingers ease over his Glock and pull it free. With a flick of his forefinger, he levered the safety off and walked forward, keeping the weapon hidden from view as he approached the first room off the passageway and stepped inside. Where the hell is everybody?

Sam’s gaze fell on the long metal wall of drawers and instantly realized he was in the hospital morgue. How many bodies lay in front of him, hidden from view?

The hunter felt a small chill run down his back, despite having dug up more corpses than he could remember. He hated these places, he hated the empty hollow feeling he got every time he walked into one. Perhaps it was the clinical, almost cold environment that made death seem so hollow and unfeeling, so pointless, maybe that was what he hated.

Sam gritted his teeth and tugged the Glock from its hiding place, fully intending sweeping the room for his target.

This time, though, the hunter had become the hunted far more quickly than he could ever have imagined. A short creak from the door hinges was the only warning sound Sam heard, but it was all too late to save him.

The hunter tried to whirl around and take aim, but before his gun even made it to chest height, he felt something sharp digging into the flesh of his neck.

Sam panicked, his Glock clattering to the floor as he frantically grabbed at the needle Laura had stuck into him. He could see her eyes glistening, enjoying, savoring his fear.

As he tried to turn, she smiled, pressing hard on the plunger to release the syringe’s contents into his bloodstream. Only moments later, Sam Winchester felt every muscle in his body begin to relax, and even though he struggled against it, he quickly joined his weapon face first on the recently mopped morgue floor.

* * * *

Dean sauntered from the enquiry desk, carefully slipping the girl on duty’s number into his top pocket as he looked around for Sam. He’d been talking for over fifteen minutes and that meant Sammy should already have been back with the coffees, and yet, there was no sign of him.

He’s still pissed at me…

Dean shrugged, a niggling feeling of unease quickly growing into out and out concern. Even if Sam was angry about what had happened with the Mitchell girl, he wouldn’t do anything about it – not here, not now.

If Sam was one thing it was dependable. He wouldn’t argue until they were back at the motel and they had answers about Kyle. Maybe he’s madder than I thought? Hell, I guess he has a right to be. Maybe I don’t know anything anymore. Maybe the damn thing inside me has more control than I do…

Dean pushed off the idea that this was about the demon. If Sam was mad, it was about exorcizing the Mitchell girl’s spirit in the first place, and the demon hadn’t been around back then.

“So where the hell did you go, Sammy boy?”

The elder hunter let a hand slide to his jacket pocket to feel for the Impala’s keys through the material. When his fingers felt the bulge from the metal he frowned. If Sam had taken the car, he’d have had to hotwire it. He definitely wasn’t THAT mad!

Ignoring the fact that it was without doubt inconsiderate to run in a hospital corridor, Dean broke into a sprint, heading for the main double doors of the facility.

Once his eyes met the full glass partition that made up the main entrance, he slowed, realizing he could already see the familiar bulky frame of the Impala where he’d haphazardly parked it in his haste to get Kyle inside. He hasn’t taken the car…

Dean felt the butterflies in his stomach turn into full fledged dragons that were trying to burn their way out at any cost. Something was wrong, so very wrong.

No matter how pissed Sammy is at me, he wouldn’t leave mid-gig like this, not with Kyle so badly hurt…

* * * *

Bear Valley Community Hospital
Morgue

Sam could sense the cold metal of the morgue drawer touching his naked back, but he couldn’t flinch. It was as if every part of his body had turned numb, unfeeling - paralyzed by whatever had been in Laura’s syringe.

At first, he’d been afraid she had out and out poisoned him, but then, that wasn’t her style. She was a tormentor, a teaser who liked to make her victims suffer prolonged misery before they died.

Just what method of torture she had planned next was anybody’s guess, but from his current position, Sam didn’t like the possibilities. The morgue held an abundance of tools and instruments for cutting into a human body, including a variety of saws he was glad were not presently in his field of vision.

“It’s nice to see you again, Sam…” Laura hovered over the hunter’s paralyzed form, running her forefinger tantalizingly down his bare chest until her nail began to dig into his flesh, forming a deep weal. She kept her face close to his, letting his frozen gaze keep her in view. “Did you get a kick out of bursting into my cabin, guns blazing? I know you did…”

Laura stepped back, flicking strands of her blonde hair over her shoulders defiantly. “Now it’s my turn to get the kick, hunter. My turn to watch as you feel the same thing I did all those years ago. You’re going to feel the cold, the chill of being alone, entombed with no chance of any kind of escape…”

Sam watched as her soulless eyes seemed to darken further, but he was helpless. He wanted to close his eyelids, to will his muscles to work using his gifts if he had to, but his whole body had been anaesthetized to the point where any kind of movement was simply impossible.

To add to the indignity, Laura had removed his clothes and merely covered his lower half with a sheet. If I get out of this, Dean is so going to make my life hell…

“Can you imagine what it was like for me? My spirit watching over my body as those butchers at CryoGen drilled my skull, pumped my body full of insidious chemicals…” Laura edged closer again, grabbing Sam’s chin and yanking his head hard over until he was staring directly into her cavernous eyes. “CAN YOU!?” She almost screamed. “Can you imagine what it’s like to be frozen, your soul trapped with no chance to pass over?”

Sam couldn’t, but then, perhaps if help didn’t arrive soon, Laura would show him. Dean! He’ll know I’m missing. He’ll come looking for me. All Sam could do was think, hope, and pray, because his crippled body would allow nothing more. But would Dean ever look here? Voices of uncertainty began to hover at the edges of his subconscious, questioning what little chance he had of being rescued. Voices Laura wanted him to hear, wanted him to listen to, just like she had. Dean won’t look in the morgue…not until it’s too late…

“Time for you to take a nice ice-cold nap, Winchester.” Laura moved to the wall, and although Sam couldn’t see what she was doing, he guessed she was altering the thermostat that controlled the drawers. Do they get cold enough to freeze? Sam really didn’t know, and didn’t want to know.

“Now who shall we make you today?” The blonde slid open another drawer and carefully removed something from the cadaver inside. She looked at the item in her grasp and nodded, satisfied with her selection.

Moving back to Sam, she tugged back the sheet covering his feet and hastily tied a toe tag to his right foot, essentially giving him a new identity when the coroner or morgue staff came to collect.

Laura smirked as she pulled the sheet back over his feet and then folded the remaining cloth over his head, enshrouding him in its full length. “Bye bye, Sam, or should I say Mr. Richards…”

Sam felt the metal he was laid out on begin to move as Laura pushed on it, making it glide into position inside the cooler. Cold air met his body, and he absently wondered if the hairs on his skin were sticking up, or were they paralyzed too?

As the drawer came to rest, the metal door at his feet slammed closed with a tinny thunk that somehow sounded final to the hunter. It was dark, it was cold, but most of all, beneath the sheet in the tiny confines of the drawer, it was claustrophobic.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

In the silence of the morgue wall, Sam could hear the rapid beat of his own heart thudding in his chest. I have to stay calm. Dean will find me…

And Dean did always rescue his little brother, didn’t he? Even when his mind had been attacked and invaded by the demon, he had cut the bonds that had held Sam to the altar in Haris hideout. But then, Dean couldn’t always play the hero. He had no way of knowing Sam’s whereabouts this time. No way to ever dream Sammy would be impersonating a dead guy. I should never have doubted him because of the damn demon.

But Sam had doubted Dean, and now as the last few months of his life began to flash before him, he was regretting it. What if he died here? What if the last words Dean had heard from his brother’s mouth were that he was some kind of monster?

Sam tried to take a calming deep breath, he tried to mollify the depression and fear that were overwhelming him, but nothing seemed to work, just like the limbs of his tranquilized body.

A new sound ricocheted off the tiny compartment’s metal walls, grating on his ears until he was forced to focus on it. With a sudden realization Sam knew he recognized the horrific sound of an electric saw cutting its way through bone. I’m hearing the coroner work on a body…

If Sam could have screamed out, he would have, because his next thought brought a sickening awareness that this was why Laura had left him here. I’m probably next on the autopsy list…

* * * *

Waiting Area

Dean fidgeted on his chair, every few minutes glancing around the now half full waiting room in the hopes that his brother appeared with two coffees and a lame excuse for where he’d been.

If it were any other guy, Dean would have surmised the young hunter had probably been sweet talking a pretty nurse somewhere, but this was Sammy. Sammy didn’t do sweet talk very well. Hell, Sammy didn’t use pick up lines on girls period, lately.

Something is wrong…

Dean pulled his cell from his jacket pocket and hit “dial” for Sam’s number. Even as he pressed the phone to his ear he could already hear the voicemail kicking in.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t use that in here…” The hunter looked up and scowled as a rather plump nurse pointed at his cell and then the main entrance doors. “If you want to talk on that thing, sonny, you better go outside. Hospital rules…”

Dean flipped his phone closed and quickly rose from his seat, cursing under his breath as he headed for the door. Halfway across the room, he turned to see if the nurse from hell was watching him vacate the building, and when she wasn’t, he quickly slipped down the nearest corridor fully intent on finding a quiet spot to try Sam’s cell again.

The long passageway was empty and Dean sighed with relief, flipping his phone back open. “C’mon, Sammy, where the hell are you hiding?” He waited, listening as the tone changed and Sam’s voicemail kicked in once again. “Shit!”

Dean stuffed his cell in his back pocket and turned, considering actually going back to the duty station and asking if a message could be put out on the hospital public address system. Jeez, it’s like I’ve lost a little kid instead of a damn adult Sasquatch here…

The hunter hadn’t made it more than two strides, however, when something new caught his eye. There was a pretty blonde nurse just turning into the next corridor and she seemed far too familiar for his mind to be playing tricks on him. Laura!

Quickening his gait, Dean almost broke into a sprint as he gave chase to the elusive, fake nurse. The very idea that she was in the hospital only fuelled his suspicions that Sam was way more than pissed at him, he was missing, and not of his own accord.

If Laura remembered even half of what had happened back at CryoGen, the elder hunter suspected both Winchesters would be on her “to do” list – and not in a good way. Maybe she’d decided if they were in town she may as well kill them next. Sammy!

Skidding to a halt at the next intersection, Dean glanced both ways, considering which way the girl might have headed. There was no sign of her in either direction, but somehow he suspected she hadn’t gone far.

A prickling sensation began to build all the way along his spine, heightening his reasoning and sharpening his senses. Dean didn’t try to push the feeling away, even though he knew its source was the thing within him.

The demon had its uses, and right now if it meant saving Sam’s life, he was going to utilize them.

Dean’s hand unconsciously slid to his waistband, and despite the multitude of security cameras placed around the hospital, he carefully pulled out his favorite forty-five, keeping it covered by his jacket. Laura was here somewhere close, the demon sensed it. He sensed it. I use you, you sonofabitch, just you remember that…

Something metallic clattered in the nearest room, and Dean’s ears honed in on it, some inner part of his psyche, or maybe the demon’s, warning him that this was wrong, so very wrong. She’s trying to trap me…

His fingers tensed over his automatic’s trigger and he slid it free from the confines of his coat as he followed the rattling sound. The area appeared empty, but then Dean knew that appearances were often deceptive. He spun around, checking behind the door, but there was nothing.

A cabinet hung from the wall, its mirrored doors tossing Dean’s reflection back at him as he scanned the room. Don’t look…you might not like what you see…

The taunt came from the demon, mocking him, urging him to look for the flash of black that signaled its dominant presence. Dean ignored the voice, ignored the jibe and pressed further into the room.

The hunter’s hazel eyes locked on a screen on the far corner. It was the only place left for someone to be hiding, waiting for their moment. “Okay, Laura, come on out, the gig’s up…” He watched, aiming his weapon at the partition in anticipation that the girl might try a full frontal attack if she was cornered.

The screen moved and Laura walked calmly out from her hideaway. She smiled, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder in a habit that had stayed with her from beyond the grave. “You won’t hurt me, Winchester. You can’t. Not if you want to save your brother from the death chill…”

“You’re insane…” Dean’s lips puckered in disgust and he reaffirmed his grip on the forty-five. He could feel the fine beads of sweat forming on his palms, he could feel the anger within him wanting, needing to take control.

“Maybe I am, but if you want little Sammy to live, you’ll put the gun down…” Laura reached out and the hunter flinched. His instinctive recoil brought another small smirk from her and she let her hand continue on its way, caressing the barrel of his weapon and then moving along to his hand.

Dean swallowed hard, his body quivering with pent up rage as he was torn between pulling the trigger and saving his brother’s life. Laura’s touch was abhorrent. It was cold, as if her fingers were still somehow frozen in the liquid nitrogen that had preserved her for almost a decade.

“Put the gun down, Dean…”

Dean backed up slightly and glanced to the still empty corridor. If he placed the forty-five on the floor, Laura would surely grab it and shoot him. If he didn’t at least feign compliance he may never know where Sam was, at least not in time to save him. If he isn’t already…

Dean whirled the gun around with its trigger guard and tossed it out into the open corridor behind him. Its clatter on the linoleum told him it was well out of Laura’s reach unless she managed to somehow pass him.

“Okay, Ice Maiden, now what? Cos I’m telling you, gun or not, you so ain’t getting out of this room…” The hunter held his arms open, blocking the insane girl’s path to the door.

Laura nodded. This was going to be fun. Freezing people was the ultimate revenge, but she was quickly finding it held little pleasure for her – not like the blood.

Seeing her victims cut open, bleeding, pleading for their miserable lives was so much more satisfying. She noted a covered tray and quickly knocked it over, clamoring with her icy fingers for something that might do damage. Anything with a blade she could enjoy twisting into Winchester’s gut like she had the priest.

Laura’s hand locked on a scalpel and she tossed it savagely at Dean. It was too small, too insignificant for her kind of sadistic torture.

Dean bobbed, dodging the flying blade with much more agility that the girl would have given him credit for. He was faster than she last remembered, but then little did she know he had still been recovering from life-threatening injuries that time, or that he had a very powerful demon onboard this.

Laura snarled like a wildcat as Dean dived forward and caught her wrist, twisting it behind her back. He was good, so very good, but she wasn’t done for yet. Thrusting her elbow in his stomach, she simultaneously whirled, yanking her hand free from his grasp.

For the briefest of seconds as she moved, their eyes locked, and Laura instantly froze. Gone were the sparkling hazel spheres filled with their cocky glint, replaced by some unfathomable black void that mimicked her own empty, soulless psyche. It was like looking into a mirror, and for the first time since her retrieval, Laura felt fear.

Dean seized the moment, regaining his grip on her forearm and pinning it behind her back. Before she could use her extraordinary strength to pull free again, he tugged a cable tie from his pocket and secured her wrists together. Once she was secure, he pushed her down onto a small chair in the corner.

“Bastard!” Laura spat out the word like a seasoned biker rather than a young college girl, her eyes glowing with a sudden hatred that hid the empty abyss behind them.

Dean hunkered down until he was level with her, his own eyes returning to their usual mirthful glint. “So they tell me,” his smile never faltered. “But at least I’m a human bastard, sweetheart. You, I don’t consider any better than some whacked out zombie from a Romero movie. So if I were you, I’d start talking…”

Laura turned her head until she was staring at the white painted walls. “I already died once, Winchester. What are you going to do? Kill me again? Kind of redundant, don’t you think?”

Dean grabbed the bottom of her chin and twisted, forcing her to look at him again. “Do you want to go back? Because I can arrange it. Pretty cold there I hear. Lots of time to reflect…” He let go, standing to his full height. “Now what have you done with my brother?”

“Oh…I think he’s already there. Maybe our souls will party together on the other side.” Laura licked her lips, making sure Dean watched every last sensuous movement of her tongue. “But then, you already got rid of my soul, didn’t you? Pity then I can’t feel sorry for your little brother…”

“Bitch…” Dean felt his hands clench and unclench, even though he was sure his brain hadn’t given the order. He was tempted to look in the cabinet mirror, just to be sure, but then he couldn’t know how he’d react if his eyes belonged to some damn demon again.

Instead, he slowly ambled out into the corridor, looking left to right to make sure the area was clear. Once he was certain they were still alone, he retrieved his discarded weapon and took a moment to think.

Laura was determined not to tell where Sam was, but in the short time she’d had to hurt or hide him, he couldn’t be that far away. If he’s even alive…

On a whim, Dean once again plucked his cell from his back pocket. Hitting speed dial for the last time he listened intently, expecting the same laborious voicemail to assault his ears.

Lay down a list of what is wrong
The things you've told him all along
And pray to God he hears you
And pray to God he hears you

The song he had chided his brother over filled the long passageway with its tinny resonance, and Dean’s head snapped up, instantly following the sound of Sam’s cell.

How to save a life…

Maybe he didn’t hate the ringtone after all. Maybe its words held a special significance he’d never appreciated before.

How to save a life…

Dean’s frenetic gaze stopped on a sole gurney sitting idle outside an area clearly market as the morgue. Morgue as in for dead people…

Pulling the sheet back from the trolley he felt the contents of his stomach almost leap into his throat. There were discarded clothes strewn haphazardly, and sitting on top of the very familiar garb was Sam’s phone.

Morgue…

Dean ignored the bile that was burning his gullet and spun around, diving into the mortuary without even caring to look for an attendant. The room appeared empty, save for the wall of shiny silver drawers mocking him as his reflection bounced back off them.

“Sammy!” Dean began to tug on every handle, pulling out drawers and the bodies they held indiscriminately as he scoured the morgue for his brother. “Sammy!”

Each new body, each new empty drawer only brought further frustration until he slammed a fist down on a nearby instrument tray, smashing its contents to the floor with his unrestrained strength.

“Hey, you can’t do that in here! I’m calling security!” A small, dark-skinned man wearing hospital attire froze in the doorway, amazed that anyone would want to trash a morgue.

Dean held up a hand. “Hey, no, wait!” He moved his palm slowly to his top jacket pocket. “It’s not what you think. I can explain…” Pulling out a small leather badge holder, he flipped it open to show a completely fake set of credentials. “I’m on a case. I need to find a specific body and fast. Young guy, tall as hell. I’m thinking he hasn’t been here that long…”

The little man who Dean guessed was probably Mexican leaned forward, scanning the fake badge for a moment until his dark, beady eyes where tiny pin pricks. Eventually, he rubbed a hand across his mouth absently. “I don’t think we’ve had any new cases in this morning…”

“Will you JUST LOOK!” Dean’s last words were loud and harsh, his facial expression a veil that only allowed half of the panic he was feeling to show.

“Okay, okay, but I’m telling you, next time you cops trash my morgue like this I’m filing an official complaint!” The worker began methodically checking down a list of bodies and the names associated with them. When none fit Dean’s description, he shrugged and carefully popped open the remaining drawers the “cop” hadn’t already left undone. “See, no young dude, no tall dude, and no young, tall dude…”

* * * *

Coroner’s Table
The Next Room…

Sam didn’t know how long he’d been in the cooler drawer, or how long he’d waited on the table once he’d been moved. He was still covered by the sheet as someone worked around him, their slightest movements making him want to flinch as he heard the clatter of metal instruments being prepared.

Maybe the passage of time didn’t matter anyway, because the young hunter was well aware of where he’d been taken. This was the place he’d heard the sawing noises coming from – this was the place where human bodies were taken apart. I’m in the morgue and I can’t even blink!

As a hunter, he’d heard tales of such things happening in darker, earlier times. People who had been thought dead and who had been taken, buried, and years later found to have been interred alive. Cry…I need to cry, anything to make them see…

Sam tried to force his eyes to water, tried to make those oh so heavy lids move and blink just once, ready for when the sheet was removed, but his muscles simply wouldn’t work. It was a kind of living death Laura had planned well, and if he didn’t find a solution soon, a plan so perfect it would prove fatal.

The white sheet was abruptly pulled back and the overhead lights made Sam’s eyes want to smart. He wanted, needed to shield his face with a hand to stop the brilliant glow bombarding his senses, but instead, all he could do was look on as the coroner chose his instrument of choice.

The saw he’d heard earlier waited along with a plethora of other vile looking tools, goading him, needing him to see its harsh cutting edge, but still, that wouldn’t be the first thing he felt bite into his flesh. He knew enough about autopsies to realize that.

Sam tried to blink again, and this time his eyelids almost obeyed. He felt the briefest of flutters and relief washed over him. There was still a chance, still time for the medical examiner to realize his next patient was far from ready for the cemetery. Please look up! Please! Look me in the eye before you cut! PLEASE!

The coroner didn’t hear the silent pleas and continued, choosing a scalpel to make his first incision in Sam’s chest.

The gloved hand moved forward, the owner’s gaze so focused on performing the autopsy that he didn’t see the panicked, tear-filled eyes that watched him – eyes that were forced to see the acutely sharp blade as it sliced into his flesh, blood beginning to pool around its tip as Sam screamed silently in his head.

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The Winchester Chronicles