had nowhere to go.
door, no magic escape route.
no clue what had happened to Sam and John. Were they
still trapped, like Dean, in the ever-changing maze
Stull church had become? Were they fighting for their
lives just like he was, desperate to find a way out
that really didn’t want to be found?
the fiftieth time, Dean scanned the room where he found
himself cornered, hoping against hope that somehow the
church had shifted again, that another door had appeared
out of nowhere and he could get the hell out of Dodge.
Winchester luck was going to change now all of a sudden?
was only one way in or out of here, and that was through
the door opposite, which right now was completely blocked
by the hordes of demons literally pouring into the small
chamber, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared as they smelled
the sweet scent of Winchester blood.
way was he getting out that way.
didn’t know where all these demons were coming
from, but he was starting to get the impression that
maybe the legends were true and Stull cemetery really
did sit atop one of the seven gateways to Hell.
He certainly hadn’t seen Mia in the company of
any demon army. So where else could they have come from?
Express elevator from the Underworld? It seemed a lot
more plausible than it had an hour ago.
if that were the case, if these demons really were
tasting free air for the first time in years, maybe
even centuries, then it was probably a safe bet they
were looking to have themselves one hell of a good time.
right now Dean figured he pretty much looked like the
good time to be had by all.
swallowed, kind of wishing Sam had his back, but kind
of glad he didn’t, doing his level best to convince
himself that his kid brother was off somewhere safe
with Dad and it was only Dean set to become a demon
army’s chew toy.
so there was no way out. Fine. But that didn’t
mean Dean couldn’t go down swinging.
his grip on his favorite .45, his left hand gently grazing
the outline of the demon-killing feather still tucked
into his jacket pocket, Dean squared his shoulders,
set his jaw and took a step toward the mass of approaching
boys… come and get it!”
he knew bullets wouldn’t have much effect against
this enemy, Dean began firing his Colt randomly into
the throng, hoping at least to slow a few of the bastards
the clip clicked on empty and the Hellish horde still
kept coming, he took a step back, his shoulders hitting
the cold stone wall behind him as the demons continued
to surge in his direction.
to hand then. Okay.
dug in his pocket for the feather, fingers closing around
the weeping remnant, just as an odd sensation started
to tingle up his spine. Before he knew what was happening,
something unseen seemed to grip him by the shoulders
and tug him forcibly backwards.
off balance by the unexpected—and, in Dean’s
defense, invisible—assault, he found himself falling,
back, back through the wall behind him, all
sense of up and down twisted and distorted as bright
light seared his retinas and the howls of a hundred
outraged demons lodged in his ears.
then there was silence.
hit the ground with a thump, still able to see the demons
and the room in which he’d been trapped, but now
it was as if he was looking at it down a long dark tunnel,
the church receding further and further away into the
distance as light seeped into the edges of his vision
and bleached the entire scene out to nothing.
hard, he sat up.
was on his ass in the cemetery, the church gone, and
a bright cheery sun shining down from a perfect, clear
he attempted to clamber to his feet, his hand ghosting
over his cracked ribs as he endeavored to favor his
injured side and stole himself for the pain he knew
was sure to follow.
was nothing. No bone-jarring, breath-stealing spike
of agony so intense it made his eyes water. Not even
a twinge or a dull ache.
straightened a little uncertainly.
So far, so freakishly weird.
the gash on his arm from where a piece of exploding
gravestone had nicked him, he twisted to examine the
injured limb, only to discover there was nothing there,
not even a tear in his jacket.
Dean wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth,
he knew his body spontaneously healing itself wasn’t
first things first. He could figure out his miraculous
recovery later. Right now he had other priorities. Namely
Sam. And Dad. And not forgetting the Impala. And getting
all four of them the hell out of this creepy ass cemetery
before it changed its mind and decided to trap them
was, Dean couldn’t help feeling there was something
off about the cemetery in which he was now standing,
something different, something that tickled at the back
of his subconscious, made him look around himself and
Dean had gone into the church with Sammy and their dad,
it had been just after midnight, Halloween giving out
to All Saints Day, November 1st. It had been a cold,
clear Kansas winter’s night, frost sparkling on
the pathways and the service road that bisected the
once again looked up at the cloudless blue sky. It was
sunny and it was warm, and from the position of the
sun it was somewhere around midday. There was no sign
of Sam, no sign of John, no sign of the Impala. Hell,
there wasn’t even any sign of the service road
where Dean had parked the old Chevy back when the world
made some kind of sense.
turned slowly on the spot, trying to picture the old
Stull cemetery in daylight and comparing it to the place
he now found himself. The church was gone, that was
a given. So was the road, and with it the Impala. Glancing
to his left, he expected to see the little hill and
the tree where Mia had held his father prisoner, the
only slope in the Kansas-flat boneyard.
the tree was gone, along with the hill and Mia’s
he found himself atop a steep slope, the ground falling
away in a series of gently rolling dips and rises leading
down to the cemetery gates and beyond that a vista of
red roofs and softly swaying palm trees.
remembered this cemetery. He remembered that grave marker
over there, the angel who looked like a cross between
Madonna and Cher. He remembered that low, black metal
fence surrounding a small family plot, and that crypt
with the name “Holloway” etched into the
remembered all of this because he’d been here
a jolt, Dean realized he wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
He was in Palo Alto.
was looking out over Stanford University. It had only
been a few weeks since Dean was last here with Sam,
after all, when the two of them had met up with Zach
how the hell did that happen? How had he gotten
almost two thousand miles from Kansas to California
without passing go or collecting two hundred dollars?
looked up at the sky again, at the palm trees. At the
California sunshine. I can’t be here,
he told himself. I can’t. I’m dreaming.
Or stoned. Or dreaming and stoned…
he’d even had time to process the impossibility
of his situation, the distant sound of voices drifted
in his direction, causing his heart rate to pick up
his neck in the direction of the sound, he spotted a
little knot of people dressed in black standing around
an open grave. A funeral was in progress, and as he
made his way hesitantly toward them, he gradually began
to realize that not only did he recognize the cemetery
in which he unaccountably found himself, but he also
recognized the plot where this group of mourners were
gathered: the wooden bench perched on the side of that
little winding path; the trees with the wind chimes
gently singing through their branches.
was where Jessica was buried.
uncomfortable chill spread through him then, and he
almost turned away, afraid of what he might see should
he get any closer.
his feet appeared to be working independently of his
brain, and he continued onward, nervously scanning the
group of mourners for one particular face.
this time, Sam wasn’t here, looking fragile and
breakable and determined and angry and so much like
his dad it had made Dean’s head spin.
Dean’s eyes lit on a small group of twentysomethings
huddled together just to the left of the open grave.
Warren’s face was half-hidden in a tissue, her
skin pale and waxy and her eyes red-rimmed. Next to
her, her brother Zach was holding the hand of a pretty
redhead who it took Dean a second to identify without
the ball cap and dirty jeans. Daisy Duffield. Cousin
Daisy. Earthquake Girl.
was actually surprised to discover he was pleased to
see the annoying little archeologist, and his first
instinct was to go over to her and see how she’d
been since nearly dropping Mount Diablo on his head.
before he could make a move toward his cousin he had
to stop dead in his tracks, his attention wholly consumed
by the tall blonde quietly crying at the center of the
group, her head resting on the shoulder of an older
lady who seemed vaguely familiar.
a second Dean thought he was hallucinating. He blinked
hard, but when he opened his eyes again the blonde was
whole and alive and beautiful and a little older than
Dean remembered her.
she was holding a baby.
some reason, Dean’s brain decided it couldn’t
process that image, Jessica alive and well with a baby
in her arms, and instead he found himself focusing on
the woman standing next to her. It took him a second
to place her, the memory resurfacing reluctantly: she
was Jessica’s mom. Dean remembered speaking to
her at the funeral. Jessica’s funeral. Jessica
who was standing there whole and unharmed with a baby
in her arms.
was too much for Dean, all of this. Jessica, Palo Alto.
His spontaneously traveling two thousand miles without
him actually going anywhere.
had to get out of here.
was the only course of action that made any sense to
him right now.
really had to get out of here.
turned to leave as quickly as his jellified legs would
carry him, but slowed as the pastor’s baritone
voice rose above the quiet sobbing and the grief-filled
hush of the graveside.
so we commit Samuel’s body to the ground…”
stopped. Everything stopped. The world stopped, the
birds stopped; for all Dean knew the grass stopped growing
beneath his feet.
No way. No freakin’ way. This is not
took Dean’s legs a couple of seconds to decide
whether to run like hell or head back over to the funeral
a deep breath, he turned back to the gathered mourners,
his face set into a grimace and his hands balled into
fists at his sides. This is not happening,
he told himself over and over as he strode purposefully
toward the somber group, determination in every step.
Finally drawing up behind them, his eyes lit on the
marble headstone next to the freshly dug grave and his
breath hitched in his chest.
2nd May 1983 – 2nd November 2009
vision began to swim, and his legs threatened to buckle
right out from under him as one by one the mourners
began to file past the hole in the ground, each gathering
a handful of dirt from the pile by the side of the grave
and tossing it onto the casket; the casket holding Dean’s
brother. The casket holding Dean’s dead
casket holding Sam.
then it was Jessica’s turn, and she stood there,
utterly composed and dignified, silent tears slipping
down her face as she threw a single red rose into the
Sam?” she whispered, before turning away, her
mother’s arms enveloping her shoulders as the
tears turned into sobs.
couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. He couldn’t
bury his brother.
all a dream, he told himself, squeezing his eyes
tightly shut and shaking his head in fierce denial.
It’s just a dream. C’mon Dorothy, click
your friggin’ heels together already—I need
to get back to Kansas!
he opened his eyes and the scene before him hadn’t
changed, he gritted his teeth and virtually growled
in frustration, determined to think of an explanation
for this insanity.
if it’s not a dream, maybe it’s an hallucination,
he speculated. Or a hex. Or a million other supernatural-related
effed-up piles of crap that could be messing with my
it was he wanted it to stop.
make it stop! Now, dammit!
I know you?”
was standing right in front of him.
heart leapt into his throat and he almost choked on
his own name. “Dean,” he managed to blurt
out. “I’m…I’m Dean.”
inclined her head slightly to one side, a tiny line
forming between her eyebrows. “Dean, Sam’s
brother Dean?” the girl asked, her red-rimmed
blue eyes lighting up hopefully.
nodded slightly. “Yeah, I’m… yeah.”
expression broke a little and she looked as if she might
start to cry again. “We tried so hard to find
you after Sam’s—after the accident.”
blinked. “It was—it was an accident?”
fire,” Jess confirmed. “In the baby’s
nursery.” A sad smile flitted across her face
as she presented the child in her arms to Dean. “This
is Mary Ellen.”
was still trying to get his head around the fact that
Sam had apparently died in a nursery fire, so suddenly
finding himself in a staring contest with a gurgling
rugrat came as something of a shock. She was a cute
little thing too, with masses of curly blonde hair and
almond-shaped hazel eyes. Sam’s eyes.
Dean very rarely found himself lost for words with women,
but as the baby—Sam’s baby—happily
gazed up at him out of her daddy’s eyes, Dean
realized the chances of him managing to string together
any kind of coherent sentence were somewhat remote.
“So—she’s how old?” he finally
managed to stammer, his voice sounding strangled and
way too high pitched.
months,” Jess replied wistfully.
Figures.” Dean rubbed at the spot between his
eyebrows, a headache starting to form behind his eyes.
“And—and you said it was a nursery fire?”
barely got her out,” Jess told him, stroking one
finger down the little girl’s pink cheek. “I
heard Sam yelling, went in there and—and found
the place was on fire and Sam—Sam was—”
broke down into quiet, shuddering breaths, and Dean
placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder.
you saved the baby,” he pointed out softly.
nodded. “Yeah. Mary and I got out.”
Ellen,” Dean continued in an attempt to divert
Jess’s attention from the painful memory of what
had happened to the love of her life. “That’s
a pretty name.”
somehow managed to find a watery smile. “Sam’s
idea,” she told him sadly, her teary eyes sparkling
in the incongruous sunshine. “After your mom and
blinked at her. “Our—our what now?”
Dean hadn’t felt like his head was going to explode
before, he sure as hell did now.
frowned minutely. “Your stepmom?” She gestured
over toward the graveside, where her mother and an attractive
brunette in her early forties were speaking quietly
with the pastor. “Ellen’s been a godsend,”
she went on to add. “I don’t know what I
would have done without her. She’s the only one
I told—the only who I knew would believe me—it’s
just so—so crazy…”
almost didn’t pick up on Jessica’s teary
confession, still pretty damn well stunned by the revelation
he had a stepmom he’d never even heard of. And
he was pretty sure if his dad had gotten hitched he
might have mentioned it. The guy was secretive but not
shook his head. If he could just focus on a single instance
of crazy rather than attempting to make sense out of
the whole steaming pile of it, he might stand a chance
of unraveling some of the knots the world seemed determined
to tie in his brain.
you about what?” he managed to ask, and Jess looked
at him appraisingly, uncertainty in her wide eyes. “You
can tell me, I’ll believe you,” he added.
“The day I’m having? Crazy doesn’t
even begin to cover it.”
bit her lip, hesitating for just a second longer. “If
I tell you,” she began slowly. “You won’t…
You promise not to tell anyone? I don’t—I
don’t want people to think…” She trailed
off and Dean gently squeezed her shoulder.
don’t want people to think you’re nuts?”
he hazarded, causing the ghost of a smile to crinkle
the corners of Jessica’s mouth. Trying for reassuring,
Dean added, “Don’t worry. You can tell me
anything, no matter how crazy it seems. We’re
cast him a look of mild surprise that gradually shifted
into one of appreciation. Nodding and taking a deep
breath, she slowly began to explain. “The night
of the fire?” she said, glancing around herself
furtively, as if afraid of being overheard. “I
heard Sam yelling. I went into the nursery and saw the
flames and grabbed Mary from her crib. And then I ran.”
Sam?” Dean prompted a little hesitantly, his voice
breaking on his brother’s name.
is the crazy part,” Jess continued. “I couldn’t
see Sam in the nursery at all, and all I could think
about was getting Mary outside as fast as I could.”
swallowed before clearing his suddenly parched throat.
“So far so familiar,” he muttered. “Then
Jessica hesitated. “I looked back and—and
I swear I saw Sam on—he was on the ceiling,
Dean. On fire.”
knife to the gut would have been less painful.
head swam for a second and he had to take a couple of
short, sharp breaths just to stop the buzzing in his
mistaking Dean’s reaction for disbelief, Jessica
quickly added, “I know, I know it’s crazy
and I’ve only told Ellen because—because
I know she knows stuff about—about stuff,
y’know, from that roadhouse she runs, but I swear,
I swear, Dean, Sam was on the ceiling.”
the pounding of his heart, Dean somehow managed to squeeze
Jess’s shoulder once more and offer her a completely
sincere, “I believe you.”
seemed somewhat taken aback. “You—do?”
nodded. “Sam told you about our mom, right? About
what happened to her?”
know she died in a fire too—”
never got to finish her sentence as the formidable-looking
chick she’d earlier pointed out to Dean as being
Ellen, the stepmom, was suddenly striding over
toward them, a look on her face that could have melted
iron at fifty paces.
say she looked a little pissed was the understatement
of the century. So much so that Dean actually flinched
when she marched right up to him and grabbed him by
the hell have you been, boy?” the woman
demanded, shaking him a little bit to add emphasis to
her words. “Don’t you know I’ve been
worried sick? You and that no-good reprobate daddy o’
yours just takin’ off like that the way you did!
No explanation, no nothin’ just whoosh
and you’re outta here! It’s been almost
two years, Dean! We’ve never bothered you, never
asked you for a thing. Least you could o’ done
was let your little brother know you were alive! You
know how worried he was? And now…” She trailed
off, hanging her head as she continued to cling to Dean’s
arms, although he suspected more for support than out
of anger. “Now…”
sorry—” Dean stammered.
head whipped up, eyes flashing angrily. “You damn
well should be!” she admonished him. “You
abandoned your family, Dean. You know Sam never—”
she glanced sideways at Jessica. “You know he
never took this—this threat seriously. Always
in denial that boy. Too busy tryin’ to be normal
to learn how to protect himself. But that was what your
daddy trained you for, Dean! How could you
just up and leave like that?”
Dean really couldn’t answer that because he honestly
had no idea. The thought of abandoning Sam was a completely
alien concept to him.
know your daddy got a lead on—” Ellen cast
another furtive glance Jessica’s way, “—the
thing that—y’know—your mom, but you
could have picked up the phone! Jess and I—the
voicemails we’ve left for you… It wouldn’t
have helped Sam, but at least you could have been here
dug his cell out of his pocket. No service. Figured.
didn’t get your messages,” he stumbled feebly.
shook her head sadly, finally letting go of his arms.
“That thick-headed father of yours is no better,”
she said. “Haven’t heard from him in six
months. Not since he signed himself out of that hospital
AMA after the thing with the truck. I swear, it’s
like being married to freakin’ James Bond.”
Dean echoed. “You mean the semi? When it broadsided
scowled at him. “You and your dad been hit by
any other trucks lately?”
Dean frowned. “But—but that was 2006…”
grabbed his chin, tilted his head back and made a show
of looking into his eyes. “You hit your head a
little harder than everybody thought when the Impala
got turned into a pretzel?” she demanded. “That
was six months ago, Dean! May 2009! Do we need to get
you an MRI? Or a shrink? Or has your dad’s habit
of talking nonsense finally rubbed off on you?”
scrubbed at his forehead, thanking his lucky stars his
dad had never remarried. As far as he was aware. “Man,
this place is givin’ me a headache,” he
muttered, even less sure what the hell was going on
or where he was or what everyone was talking about.
Times like this he really needed Sam around to do the
whole geek research thing. He’d be able
to work out what kind of rabbit hole Dean had fallen
gaze slid to the open grave and the marker with his
brother’s name on it. Sam wasn’t dead. He
wasn’t. Dean couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t
believe it. Because if Sam was dead then…then…
Then Dean’s world had been yanked right out from
under him. Sam couldn’t be—couldn’t
Dean could even contemplate finishing that thought,
he suddenly felt as if the world really was
being yanked right out from under him.
like back at the church, he experienced the creepy sensation
of something grabbing his shoulders and dragging him
backwards and Ellen and Jessica receding away from him
down a long dark tunnel just as a bright flash momentarily
short circuited his vision and everything faded out
* * *
was pitch black wherever Sam was this time, the church
having apparently morphed again while he was knee-deep
in demons and desperately trying to find Dean and his
this time when the church shifted it wasn’t just
a case of a new door opening in the wall or Sam turning
around to find himself in a different room than the
one he started off in. No, this had been way weirder.
One minute he’d been fighting off Lucifer’s
least finest, the next there’d been a bright flash
of light and he’d felt as if he was being physically
dragged backwards into…this place.
this place was.
was dark wherever it was. That was the one thing Sam
knew for a fact.
was, no matter how dark Sam’s current environment,
he just couldn’t help feeling he wasn’t
in the church anymore. Maybe it was the change in temperature
or the altered acoustics or the absence of that chilly,
stony, woody, papery smell that his senses always associated
with the word “church.” Sam wasn’t
sure. All he knew was he was somewhere else.
And he couldn’t find Dean.
cursed for the twentieth time as he once again stumbled
into something heavy and unyielding. This time a little
groping around revealed the obstacle to be a large wooden
packing crate, just like the other hundred or so—well,
maybe five—he’d managed to walk into since
finding himself here. And that wasn’t all he’d
stumbled over, smacked into or tripped on so far during
this little field trip. Who’d have thought there’d
be so much heavy machinery lurking around trying to
break a guy’s kneecaps? Of course, damage to Sam’s
patellae aside, the copious amount of machinery scattered
seemingly at random around the place did back up his
theory that he was no longer a guest of Stull’s
most famous building, but rather that he might be in
a warehouse or a processing plant of some kind.
course that didn’t make any sense either.
the morphing rooms had been crazy weird, but as far
as Sam had been able to tell the church could only alter
the shape of the rooms that already existed as part
of its structure, not conjure new ones out of thin air.
And Sam was pretty sure there hadn’t been a warehouse
stuck in the middle of the church’s chancel.
again begged the question: Where was he and how did
he get here? And where were Dean and Dad?
didn’t generally have a problem with the dark—it
was kind of an occupational hazard in his line of work—but
right now he would have given anything for Dean to show
up with his Zippo, ragging on him and calling him Samantha
for being scared of the dark.
attempting to ignore the little voice in his head currently
yelling for his big brother like a snot-nosed six-year-old
with a boo-boo—the little voice Sam tended to
think of as “Sammy,”—Sam began to
feel his way gingerly along the cracked plaster walls,
stumbling into another room without actually tripping
on anything else, his fingers finally fumbling with
a lever that he hoped might bring up the lights.
a little too excited to have found a possible source
of illumination, Sam hastily lunged forward into the
room, his foot suddenly hitting something hard, and,
with his center of gravity all off kilter, he knew this
time he was going down.
to grab onto something to stop his fall, all his fingers
found was the lever which he was hoping controlled the
power, unintentionally yanking it down as he plummeted
toward the concrete floor, his hands landing in something
wet and sticky as his knees hit the deck with a sickening
brilliant light flooded the room, Sam scrunched up his
eyes, his other senses taking over while he was temporarily
could smell blood.
upright, the first thing Sam saw when he managed to
prize open his eyes was the blood coating his palms.
Rocking back on his heels, one bloodied hand shot out
behind him to steady himself, brushing denim before
planting against concrete.
his head to see what it was he’d tripped over
in the first place, Sam found himself suddenly inches
away from two dead green eyes, wide open and unblinking.
startled backwards, fingers scrabbling at the floor
as he sought to extricate himself from his brother’s
unnaturally still form, slumped against the wall in
a seated position with his head tilted slightly to one
side. His face was waxy, frozen in an expression of
shock and pain, and there was no mistaking the jagged
tears in his throat: Bite marks. Like the injuries inflicted
by the vampires Sam remembered fighting with Dad—Luther
and his crew.
fought the urge to retch, his stomach more prepared
to believe what he was seeing than his eyes or his brain.
blinked hard, willing himself to wake up in that creepy
church surrounded by demons wanting nothing better than
to tear his head off and show it to him. That would,
after all, be so much more preferable to this.
just a dream, he tried to tell himself. A very
intense dream. You got hit on the head. You’re
gonna wake up and Dean’s gonna be laughing his
ass off at you. You’re such a girl, Sammy…
Dean was still sitting there, staring up at him with
sightless eyes, his throat torn out and his own blood
staining his shirt and his jeans.
tried to breathe through the nausea, his head spinning
and his eyes refusing to focus. It’s not real.
It’s not real. I’m still in Stull...
the bruises around Dean’s neck looked real, just
like the bite marks and the gore, as if someone had
grabbed his brother around the throat and squeezed long
and hard before ripping the life right out of him.
It’s demons. They’re making me see things.
This isn’t happening. Dean’s not...Dean
a demon didn’t do this. A demon didn’t sink
fangs into Dean’s neck and leave his big brother’s
dead eyes staring at nothing. Staring at Sam.
A vampire did this...
let big brother hunt alone, Sammy.”
started, jumping to his feet before he’d even
spun in the direction of the deep, mirthless voice and
the even deeper laugh that followed.
guy was about Dean’s height, dark-skinned with
short cropped hair, red rings circling coal-black irises
with blood smeared across his face and crusted in his
neatly-trimmed goatee. When he opened his mouth to grin
gleefully, Sam could see a jagged row of yellowed, bloodstained
You did this?
took a wary step backwards, his heel nudging Dean’s
vampire glanced down at Dean’s motionless form
before inclining his head slightly. “You know
I’d heard the Winchester Dream Team broke up back
when I was in the Big House—oh and thank you very
much for that, Sam. You really thought prison would
come between me and my date with the Antichrist?”
The vamp laughed again, the sound echoing through the
empty warehouse. “Even getting vamped ain’t
changed my opinion on that subject, Sam. Although
I could never get Dean to see the light. I heard he
made a little deal for you. His soul for your life?
And then he wouldn’t hunt with you anymore ’cause
he was scared you were gonna get yourself killed trying
to get him outta going to Hell. Oh yeah, I know all
about Dean’s demon deal, Sammy. His own soul in
exchange for a monster like you? Poor deluded son of
a bitch. I figured he of all people should know what’s
dead should stay dead. And you should have stayed dead,
mouth had fallen open but no words seemed to want to
come out. What the hell was this nutjob talking about?
Deal? Monster? Dead? Hell? Antichrist? “I—I’m
not a monster,” he finally managed to stammer.
“You—you don’t even know me! What—who—who
are you? How do you know my name?”
be like that, Sammy,” the smirking vampire chided
him. “I know I look kinda—uh—different
since the last time we met, and I might not be the Gordon
Walker you knew and—well—didn’t like
very much. But there’s still a part of me that’s
almost human. Almost. And at least I know I’m
a monster. And I’m gonna do the right thing when
this is all over. When I’ve done with you. I’m
not gonna let you become the Antichrist, Sammy.”
frowned. What the hell? “I don’t know you,
man...” he began, but the guy just started in
again with that soulless laugh of his. “I don’t
know what you’re talking about!” Sam added,
unnerved by the sardonic laughter and the way the guy
was looking at him like he was—like he was something
less than human.
on, Sammy. You know it’s gotta end like this.
I gotta end you. Dean should o’ done it himself,
but I just couldn’t get him to come around to
my way of thinking. But he knew. Deep down he knew what
you are. We could have been friends, him and me. Comrades.
But he had a one track mind that brother of yours. ‘Protect
Sammy,’ even if he is worse than the filthy things
swallowed hard. “Listen, man,” he said,
backing up another step. “I really have no clue
what you’re talking about. I never met you before
today. I never—”
vamp didn’t appear to be listening, his eyes sliding
to Dean’s body, and more particularly the tear
in his throat. “It’s funny,” he said,
the hungry look in his empty eyes suggesting exactly
the opposite. “I expected him to taste like gasoline.”
He stepped forward and Sam flinched involuntarily, the
vamp grinning horribly as he drew one long finger through
the gore at Dean’s neck before slipping it into
his mouth and licking off the congealing blood. “Never
expected him to taste like cherry pie.”
vamp turned his face up to Sam and grinned big and wide,
Dean’s blood all over his fangs.
that was it.
snapped in Sam’s head, something hot and angry
and bloody. This Gordon Walker guy was toast.
No way this bastard was doing this to Dean and then
laughing about it to Sam’s face. His head was
coming off his shoulders right the hell now.
faster than the vamp appeared to be expecting, Sam grabbed
a length of piping off the floor and swung it at the
ducked, his grin broadening into a leer. “That’s
my boy, Sammy. Knew you had it in you. C’mon,
it’s true colors time! Show me what you got, demon
gritted his teeth, reaffirming his grip on the pipe
and taking another swing.
dodged beneath his arm, tackling Sam bodily and slamming
him to the floor where he landed with a whump, all the
air knocked from his lungs.
it, Sam. Be all you can be!” Walker ducked his
head toward Sam’s neck. “Wonder what the
Antichrist tastes like, huh?” He bared his fangs.
“Bet you’re not as sweet as your brother!”
grunted, slamming his palm hard against the vampire’s
jaw, shoving his head back a little, but not enough
to give him the leverage to get out from under him.
growled, jerking his head up and away from Sam, before
grabbing the younger man by the hair and yanking his
head to the side so that his neck was bared, jugular
just begging to be bitten.
tried to shove the guy off but he was just too strong,
fangs inches from Sam’s neck, so close Sam could
smell his brother’s blood on him. His brother’s
blood... Cherry pie...
smell was intoxicating, and Sam’s head began to
spin with it. Blood. Dean’s blood. It was all
he could think about, all he could concentrate on, the
blood on Dean’s neck and the terrifying urge to...to...
shoved Walker so hard the vampire was thrown several
feet across the room, and Sam sat up suddenly, for a
second dazed and disoriented, his senses tingling and
adrenalin thrumming through his system. Blood. Dean’s
blood. Wanting to taste.
vampire was staring at him with wide, surprised eyes,
and Sam stared right on back, his mouth drawn into a
snarl and his fingers curling into claws while his heart
hammered so fast and so loud he was sure he could hear
it thumping against his ribs.
it wasn’t just his heart he could hear. He could
hear everything. The rustle of Walker’s
jacket. The ticking of his watch. Cars on the highway
two miles away.
the smell... Dean’s blood...
of his senses heightened and thrumming with
power and with need.
a jolt Sam realized what he was feeling: the vampire.
He was feeling the vampire, his power, his desires,
his strength, his anger and his insatiable hunger. It
was like nothing Sam had ever felt before, a heady mix
of unparalleled strength and immortal invulnerability;
he was channeling the vampire, just as he had Alyssa
or those demons in Elko. Just like he channeled Lucifer.
The vampire’s power was coursing through Sam’s
veins, his strength bolstering Sam’s own.
could do anything; kill anything.
was a coil of razor wire at Sam’s feet.
picked it up with his bare hands, feeling nothing, not
the barbs slicing into his flesh or the blood running
down his arms. All he could think about was this vampire,
this vampire tearing out his brother’s throat
and emptying his veins.
never knew what hit him, Sam launching himself at him
so fast he was a blur of motion, muscle, sinew and sharp
edges as he wrapped the razor wire around and around
the vampire’s neck, pulling it taut and holding
it fast, even as Walker struggled and thrashed, his
own power and strength reflected back and magnified
by Sam’s instinct to protect his brother and to
avenge his murder.
pulled the wire tighter and tighter until flesh was
rent and arteries popped, reveling in the strength and
the energy coursing through him. He could feel it in
his veins, dark and evil and so, so wrong, could hear
his pulse thundering in his ears, could almost taste
his brother’s blood on his tongue as the heady
scent mingled with the smell of Walker’s blood
and of Sam’s own.
the wire gave, slicing through skin and tissue and bone
alike, and the vampire’s head came away from his
body, falling to the concrete floor with a wet thud,
blank eyes staring up at Sam just as Dean’s had.
Walker seemed surprised.
stood there, breathing hard, his arms shaking as the
tension was released from his muscles and the razor
wire, which he abruptly dropped to the ground, staring
at his bloodied hands as his head buzzed and the room
began to spin around him.
did he just do? Did he just behead a vampire with his
knees began to buckle and he felt himself once again
collapsing toward the floor. But before he could hit
concrete, something seemed to grab his shoulders and
tug him backwards as the room around him exploded into
light and his senses, overwhelmed, could finally take
no more, shutting down completely and plunging him once
again into darkness.
* * *
drew in a sharp breath and tried not to hurl on the
Since when did cemeteries have carpet?
blinked, ghostly after-images of Jessica and Ellen seared
onto his retinas superimposing themselves over the decidedly
ordinary-looking apartment door in front of which he
inexplicably now found himself standing.
blinked again, mildly surprised to discover he was no
longer in the cemetery in Palo Alto, but rather in the
hallway of what looked like a big old house that had
been converted into apartments back when stripy shirts
and red suspenders were all the rage.
his hand was raised as if he’d just rapped on
the door in front of him.
had no clue who lived here. Awkward.
seriously, what the hell?
he dead? Was he dreaming? Was he lying unconscious in
Stull church somewhere, demons beaming random images
into his head? Or was this all an illusion, just as,
perhaps, the morphing rooms within the church had been?
here it was reality that was morphing instead
of the space around him.
head hurt. And he wished he knew where Sam was.
in that grave in Palo Alto, he told himself. Sam
wasn’t dead. Dean would know. He’d just
he heard a key scraping in the lock, and the sound of
a deadbolt being flung back, and the next thing he knew
the door was opening and he found himself looking down
at a gorgeous brunette who was smiling at him as if
he was her favorite person in the whole world.
this was more like it! Maybe his crappy day was finally
taking a turn for the better.
must be Dean!” the petite young woman greeted
him enthusiastically. “I can’t believe it,
I finally get to meet Sam’s elusive big brother!
I was starting to think you didn’t really exist!”
smiled awkwardly, unable to get a word in edgewise before
the girl stuck out her hand and resumed her chattering.
Madison,” she finally introduced herself as Dean
hesitantly shook the proffered hand. “Well come
on in, can’t have you standing out here all day!”
letting go of Dean’s hand, Madison tugged him
into the apartment. She was a lot stronger than she
looked, and for some reason Dean totally didn’t
resist. “Er, yeah. Okay.”
I was so nervous about meeting you!” Madison continued,
finally letting go of Dean’s hand and ushering
him into a fairly large, comfortable-looking apartment.
“I mean, I know it must be a hundred times worse
for you—you and Sam not having spoken since he
left for Stanford and everything. Believe me, he’s
nervous too, although he’d never admit it. Cool
as a cucumber that one!”
finally stopped to draw breath, turning back toward
Dean and once again catching hold of his hand, which
she proceeded to press between both of her own. “Dean,
I’m so glad you two are talking again. It took
me months to persuade him to try and track
you down. But trust me, life’s too short to spend
it being angry with the people we love. And he’s
really missed you.” She laughed awkwardly, inclining
her head to one side and arching an eyebrow. “That’s
another thing he’ll never admit.”
managed to swallow the lump which had unaccountably
formed in his throat, but still couldn’t seem
to get any words to come out. This was all just a tiny
bit overwhelming. One minute, he’s standing next
to Sam’s grave with a sobbing Jessica clinging
to his brother’s baby, the next minute he’s
in a swanky apartment with a hot brunette who tells
him he and Sam have apparently not been talking to each
other for years. Well yeah, Sam could hold a grudge
like a teenage girl sometimes, but years?
did his life suddenly get so complicated?
Dean could attempt to come up with an answer to that
one, a tall figure hesitantly emerged from the bedroom
Dean muttered, impossibly relieved to see his kid brother
alive, breathing, whole and looking—good.
Wow. Dean had never seen Sam look so—so happy.
His skin was tanned a golden brown, broad shoulders
relaxed, finely sculpted body toned like whoa
and…and it had to be a sign of the Apocalypse:
Sam had cut off his girlie hair. Gone were the tousled
brown locks, his hair now short and neat, with bangs
swept back no longer falling over his forehead in unruly
couldn’t quite believe what he was looking at.
“Wow, Sammy you look...big.”
was true, the kid’s muscles had muscles.
smiled sheepishly. “And you look like crap.”
glanced down at himself and frowned. “Thanks.”
calling ’em like I see ’em, big brother,”
Sam returned with a grin, approaching his sibling like
a nervous teenager on his first date.
a second the two of them just stood there staring at
each other, and Dean got the distinct impression they
both had completely different reasons for not having
a clue what to say to one another.
obviously wasn’t his Sam, and Dean had
to keep reminding himself of that. But in some ways
he kind of wished it was. He didn’t ever remember
his Sam looking so relaxed and happy. So at peace and
comfortable in his own skin. But still… Dean didn’t
really know this Sam, no matter how much he looked like
the Sam Dean had last seen back at Stull. What was he
supposed to say to him?
was spared trying to come up with a decent icebreaker
by Sam suddenly grabbing hold of him and enveloping
him in a bone-crushing hug. Yeah, so this so
wasn’t Dean’s Sam, who he figured would
probably only hug him if he was on fire. And then he’d
bitch about it. Or maybe that was Dean. So hard to concentrate
when someone ten times your size was trying to squeeze
the life out of you.
I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,”
Sam was saying to the top of Dean’s head. “I
was wrong to give you the cold shoulder; to cut all
ties with my family; wrong to blame you for the things
Dad said. It wasn’t you who told me if I walked
out that door I shouldn’t ever come back.”
He stopped abruptly, finally letting go of his big brother
and holding him at arms length, squeezing his shoulders
as he looked into his eyes with those big puppy dog
ones of his own. “I shouldn’t have blamed
you for the things Dad said, Dean. And I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry.” Sam ducked his head
slightly. “I really missed you, big brother.”
Dean tried to come up with a suitable reply, Sam pulled
him into another hug and all he could think about was
that Sam smelled like dog.
missed you too, Sammy,” he said at length, and
it wasn’t a lie. He had missed Sam while
he’d been incommunicado at Stanford, just like
he was missing Sam right now.
Sam still couldn’t seem to meet Dean’s gaze
as he finally released him. “I’m sorry I
missed Dad’s funeral.”
looked up sharply. Funeral? First Sam, now Dad? Was
he going to lose every member of his family today?
way to go,” Sam continued. “Car wreck. The
guy driving the semi was drunk, right?”
Dean stammered. “I—guess...”
hands were on his shoulders, squeezing gently. “I’m
glad you got out okay. If you—I mean, it’s
bad enough Dad—and I never got to say—never
got to tell him...” Sam trailed off, his head
hanging between his impossibly massive shoulders. “If
you’d not got out...well I don’t know what
I’d have done.”
swallowed. “It’s okay, Sammy,” he
said. “I’m—I’m here now.”
nodded, finally looking up at his brother. “That’s
all I wanted. I just wanted to say—to say sorry.”
thought back to that night when he’d picked Sam
up from Stanford, the night he’d begged his kid
brother to come help him find Dad. That Sam
hadn’t felt the need to apologize. He’d
just been going to school after all. No reason
to feel guilty for that, right? Obviously Dad dying
had changed this Sam’s mind.
done’s done, Sammy,” Dean said at length.
“Can’t change the past.”
locked eyes with his brother. “No we can’t,”
he said, and there was something in his eyes, something
dark and unreadable that caused Dean to shift uncomfortably,
reminding him he didn’t actually know this
Sammy at all.
you boys done with your chick flick moment?” Madison
was suddenly at Sam’s elbow, smirking up at him
as she tugged on his sleeve. “Come on. I’ve
got beer. And vodka. And those little cocktail sausages.”
laughed softly, inclining his head toward the lounge
area. “C’mon. Wouldn’t want to miss
felt some of the tension seep out of his shoulders at
the sound of his brother’s laughter, following
Sam and Madison toward the couches angled around the
big TV in the corner.
Dean sat, he stole a glance in Sam’s direction
as his brother flung himself down on the opposite couch,
his arm curling around Madison’s shoulder. As
he did so, his shirt shifted a little, revealing four
painful-looking scratches on the kid’s neck.
frowned, stiffening a little. “Wow, that looks
like it hurts,” he commented nonchalantly, nodding
in the direction of Sam’s injury.
glanced down at himself before laughing. “What
this?” He pulled Madison closer to him, his cheeks
coloring. “It’s nothing. Maddy and I got
a little—uh—rough last night.”
squirmed. Eww! Little brother sex! “Yuck, too
much information, Sammy!” he burst out, grimacing.
you asked!” Sam returned, grinning.
for my baby brother, man!” Dean replied. “So
don’t want to hear about your nocturnal exploits!”
odd look passed between Sam and his girl. “You
don’t know the half of it, bro,” he observed
frowned minutely, but thought no more of the comment,
feeling himself begin to relax a little more in the
company of this happy, settled Sam. “So how did
you two love birds meet?” he asked eventually,
looking from Sam to Madison and back again.
young woman looked up at his brother, obvious adoration
in her big brown eyes. “I threatened him with
violence,” she replied incongruously, before turning
back to Dean and snickering. “Just kidding,”
she added. “Last summer he was interning at the
law firm where I work.”
secretary. He broke the photocopier, dropped a box of
paper on my foot and later spilled coffee on me. It
was love at first sight.”
smiled slightly. “Yeah, that sounds like Sammy.”
you are kinda clumsy, dude,” Dean pointed
out. At least, his Sam was kinda clumsy.
thing physical grace isn’t a job requirement for
a lawyer,” Madison said. “He’s got
a real shot at an Associate’s position when he
graduates Stanford Law in the summer.”
sat back against the couch cushions, a tiny spark of
bittersweet pride warming his chest. Sam could have
had this: the girl, the apartment, the career. The life.
reached over to the coffee table, picking up an already
empty bottle of beer. “Hmm, that’s not right,”
she said, rising to her feet. “Think we need more
she headed off in the direction of the kitchen, Sam’s
attention shifted to the big bay window which looked
out onto a rather stunning view of the San Francisco
skyline. It was a clear night, and a full moon was rising
above the Golden Gate Bridge off in the distance.
stood, indicating for Dean to accompany him as he ambled
toward the window.
followed a little uncertainly, Sam’s suddenly
stiff posture suggesting he had something serious to
discuss with his brother.
we go. Was that the sound of the other shoe dropping
Dean could hear?
he drew level with Sam’s position, he noticed
another room off to his left, an incongruous metal door
partially obstructed by a large potted plant and a pretty
substantial broken padlock swinging from a busted clasp.
The door was dented, as if something had been thrown
against it or—or something that had been locked
inside had been trying to get out.
instincts kicking in, Dean felt a prickle of disquiet
in the pit of his stomach as he followed his brother’s
gaze out to the moon-washed streets beyond the window,
the bright white light streaming into the room and oddly
illuminating Sam’s eyes as he gazed off into the
Dean questioned softly. “Sammy?”
wasn’t right here. Dean knew it as surely as he
knew this huge man before him wasn’t really his
sorry about this, Dean,” Sam said matter-of-factly,
not turning away from the window, face turned up to
the huge white disk of the moon. “Wrong time of
the month, y’know?”
started at the sound of a low growl behind him. Sam
had a dog?
slowly, he turned in the direction of the sound.
not her fault,” Sam was saying. “A neighbor
attacked her. We took care of him, but it was—it
was too late.”
glanced sideways at Sam, before his eyes were drawn
back in the direction of the growling.
Dean gasped in horror as Madison emerged from the kitchen.
“You—you shacked up with a werewolf?”
enough, the creature before him wasn’t bringing
took a step back as the werewolf—Madison—approached
him slowly, fangs bared and snout drawn into a vicious
snarl, her eyes inhumanly yellow and her long claws
Dean muttered, patting himself down as he backed further
away from creature. Gun. Where the hell was his gun?
Rifling through his pockets, all he could find was the
stupid feather, and he suspected that wouldn’t
be much help against Sam’s follically over-stimulated
his brother didn’t answer, Dean risked taking
his eyes off Madison long enough to look at Sam.
Sam wasn’t Sam anymore.
mouth fell open but he didn’t even manage to cry
out in surprise as the seven foot tall werewolf now
standing where his brother had been only moments before
bared its teeth and snarled at him menacingly.
took another step back, Madison approaching from his
right as Sam stalked him from his left, the two creatures
corralling him backwards, towards the room with the
briefly over his shoulder through the small crack between
the dented door and the doorframe, Dean’s heart
sank as he spied the scratches, claw marks and blood
smeared all over the walls of the room beyond.
listen,” he stammered, taking another step back.
“I get it, you’re a werewolf now. Okay.
I’m not judgin’ you, man. Seriously. I got
nothin’ against werewolves. Y’know. As long
as they’re not rippin’ people’s hearts
out.” He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender
as his shoulders smacked into the door, something hard
digging into the small of his back.
behind him, he felt the solid weight of his Colt nestled
in the waistband of his jeans.
he said, looking into the feral eyes of the larger of
the two werewolves slowly stalking him. “Don’t
do this man. I’m still your brother, right? Sam?”
the gun from behind his back, he deftly slid out the
clip and checked the rounds, mildly surprised to discover
the bullets were silver. Had he known? Had the Dean
who hadn’t spoken to his little brother in years
known what Sam had become? Had he come here not to reconcile
himself with Sam but to hunt him? If so, how did Dean
get here? Why wasn’t that Dean here?
hesitantly raised the .45 to shoulder height, his hands
shaking even as he tried to steady himself.
was Sam. Sammy. This wasn’t just some
random werewolf, some creature Dean was compelled to
hunt. This was Sam and he wasn’t
couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill his own
brother, no matter what he’d become. No matter
that his brother’s fangs were bared and his eyes
were wild and he was being corralled into what it was
becoming apparent was Sam and Madison’s killing
Dean took another step backwards, the door swinging
open behind him. “Sammy, please don’t make
me do this.”
growled in response, long lupine legs flexing as if
he was preparing to spring forward.
Dean flicked off the safety, his finger hovering over
the trigger. “Sammy please don’t—”
snarled and lunged toward him.
Dean squeezed the trigger.
the single shot rang out, Dean felt himself falling
back through the metal door, his vision filled with
hair and teeth and claws before everything faded out
* * *
so this was just weird.
second ago, Sam was in a warehouse channeling the visceral
power of some crazy-ass vampire, Dean dead on the floor
at his feet.
gripped the steering wheel of the Lexus he inexplicably
found himself driving, trying to adjust to the sudden
shift in his environment. Gone was the warehouse, Gordon
Walker’s severed head staring up at him, and Dean’s
bloodied corpse sprawled on the floor.
he was looking through the windshield of a luxury saloon
onto trees and grass and sunny fields with not a dead
body in sight.
every time he blinked, all he could see was his brother’s
dead eyes staring up at him.
wasn’t something he was going to forget in a hurry.
neither were the vampire’s taunting words. Monster?
The next Antichrist? Jeez, what was that guy
shook his head and took a shaky breath, for a moment
basking in the sunshine and the absence of the stench
of blood, his brother’s or otherwise.
was on the interstate. Somewhere.
craned his neck to look at the road signs flashing past
the window, but the lettering seemed kind of blurry.
Bringing his hand up to his face, he realized to his
surprise that he was wearing wire-rimmed glasses. Squinting,
he plucked the spectacles from his face, breathing a
sigh of relief when the road signs abruptly came back
into focus. I-90. He was on the I-90.
the glasses onto the passenger seat next to him, they
landed in an open briefcase, and he glanced down at
himself to discover he was wearing an expensive-looking
navy blue suit and a blue and yellow silk tie similar
to one Jess had bought him on his twenty-first birthday.
She’d said it brought out the blue in his blue-green
slightly at the memory, Sam cast another quick glance
in the direction of the open briefcase, his attention
caught by a mugshot staring up at him from what looked
like an open police file.
didn’t recognize the picture from any of the times
Dean had been arrested in recent years. The sign he
was holding in front of him stated the arrest had taken
place in Little Rock, and Sam couldn’t even remember
the last time they’d been in Arkansas.
to keep one eye on the road, Sam twisted slightly, trying
to get a better look at the file. Paperclipped to the
mugshot was a pretty impressive-looking rap sheet, the
words “grave desecration,” “credit
card fraud,” “breaking and entering,”
and, finally “murder” standing out starkly
on the white paper.
Murder? Sam didn’t understand. Dean was
wanted for murder? “Victim: Emily Channing,
St. Louis, MO,” the page read, and Sam frowned.
Didn’t Guevara fix that? Hadn’t Dean been
further down the page, Dean’s next offense appeared
to have been a bank robbery in Milwaukee where at least
three people had died.
frown deepened. A bank robber? Dean?
didn’t make a lick of sense. When the hell had
Dean ever robbed a bank?
was so intent on trying to skim read Dean’s police
file that he almost didn’t notice the roadblock
coming up real fast in the front windshield.
on the brakes, the Lexus fishtailed a little as it screeched
to a stop a foot away from the first patrol car.
a breath as he attempted to shove his heart back down
into his chest cavity, Sam warily eyed the rather rotund
police officer approaching him, his hand on the service
weapon at his hip.
swallowed, pulling on the parking brake and winding
down the window.
he greeted the cop a little nervously. “What’s
and registration please, sir,” the cop demanded
gruffly, and Sam was seized with sudden panic. License.
Where the hell would he keep his license?
in his jacket pocket, his fingers immediately closed
around a soft leather wallet, and pulling it out, he
yanked it open, pretty impressed by the array of platinum
credit cards tucked away inside.
through the cards, he finally found the I.D. he was
searching for, his own face smiling up at him, and the
name “Samuel James Winchester” emblazoned
across the plastic for all to see.
real name? He was using his real name?
didn’t remember the last time he’d used
his actual, honest to God, completely non-fake drivers
scanning the credit cards, Sam noted they, too, all
proclaimed their owner as Samuel J. Winchester, and
that immediately set alarm bells ringing in his head.
he dutifully pulled his drivers license from the wallet
and handed it to the police officer, nervously opening
the glove box in the hopes of finding the vehicle registration
and silently praying the cop wouldn’t see what
else was more than likely hidden in there.
came as something of a surprise, then, when the glove
box revealed only papers, pens, a flashlight and a couple
of rolls of Lifesavers rather than the customary guns,
knives, holy water and box of fake I.D.s usually to
be found in any Winchester vehicle.
sighed in relief, pulling out the Lexus’ pink
slip and offering it to the patrolman, who was frowning
at Sam’s drivers license as if it held the key
to the secrets of the universe.
drawing his sidearm, the cop stepped back from the door,
leveling the weapon at Sam’s head.
out of the vehicle, sir.”
blinked. “Sorry, officer, is there a problem?”
of the vehicle, sir,” the cop repeated, his tone
of voice brooking no argument.
sighed in resignation, unbuckling his seatbelt before
opening the car door, his hands raised a little sheepishly
above his head. “Officer, I think there’s
been some kind of misunderstanding—” he
began to remonstrate, before suddenly finding himself
spun around and slammed face down across the hood of
the car, his wrists yanked up his back as handcuffs
were slapped on a little too tightly.
grimaced as the cop hauled him to his feet while speaking
coolly into his radio. “We’ve got the other
one, sir,” he said. “Bringing him to you
Sam was bundled unceremoniously into a waiting police
cruiser, he couldn’t help but wonder what the
hell he’d dropped into this time. Shrugging as
he settled into the uncomfortable vinyl seat, he figured
it couldn’t be any worse than seeing Dean dead
and bloody at his feet.
cops climbed into the front of the car, pulling the
vehicle smoothly away from the roadblock and heading
up the interstate in the same direction Sam had been
traveling. Finally able to read the road signs, Sam
noted they appeared to be headed for Boston, and settled
himself in for the ride as his brain cogitated on potential
escape routes and the relative wisdom of dislocating
minutes later, Sam found himself being driven into downtown
Boston, the police cruiser turning into what looked
like a pretty rundown warehouse district.
car took a sharp right, and Sam could see that something
was going on at the bottom of the street, blue police
lights flashing as a gaggle of cops strung copious amounts
of blue police tape around what looked like the entrance
to a disused warehouse.
they drew closer, a female cop waved them forward, talking
into her radio as she moved a sawhorse out of the way
to allow the patrol car through.
up next to at least five marked police vehicles, a couple
of ambulances and a few unmarked, unremarkable sedans,
the two cops exited the front of the cruiser before
opening the back door and yanking Sam out.
stumbled a little, but the cops each took an arm, stringing
him out between them as they dragged him toward the
entrance to the warehouse.
place looked dark inside and Sam blinked, vaguely wondering
whether this was the same place where he’d had
the run-in with that nutjob vampire.
question was answered soon enough as he passed two gurneys
being led out onto the street to the waiting ambulances.
On the first gurney was a young woman. She was clearly
dead, bite marks raw and angry at her throat, a handkerchief
twisted around her neck as if she’d been recently
gagged. There was a hole in her forehead that had obviously
been inflicted by a bullet, and from a large caliber
weapon judging by the size of the entrance wound, Sam
the second gurney lay a headless corpse.
swallowed bile as he realized there was a severed head
looking at him from its position next to the body.
how? Sam had clearly not been here when the vampire
bit it. No pun intended. So who could have killed him
if it wasn’t Sam?
himself being tugged away from the corpse of the vampire,
Sam was suddenly aware of tall black guy with a goatee
and bald head approaching him. He walked with an air
of self-confidence that was really quite intimidating,
and the navy blue FBI windbreaker he was wearing gave
some clue as to his identity.
he neared Sam’s position, a smug smile spread
across his lips, and he finally stopped right in front
of him, hands planted on his hips as he nodded, obviously
pleased with the situation.
Winchester,” he said, grinning broadly. “It’s
been a while.”
the episode here