Four: Traces of Red
La Jolla, California
Sam looked at the looming wrought iron gates that confronted
him and squirmed. The ornate twisted metal reminded
him of the ridiculous Hammer horror flicks he used to
watch with his dad and Dean as a child.
movies filled with more clichés than a toddler
large foreboding house, the intimidating almost surreal
entrance, and of course, the unnatural mist that always
seemed to hang like a portent of evil a few feet from
could laugh at such bizarre cinematic oddities now,
knowing that the only horror they contained was probably
going to be as a result of the scriptwriter’s
this house, this place – there was nothing
laughable here. His senses were screaming at him to
turn, to run, to never come back.
while that might be quite natural to an everyday guy
on the street, it was the most atypical reaction possible
for a hunter.
shot a glance over to his brother who had scurried along
the outer wall that connected with the gates and was
now clambering over the ancient brickwork like a monkey.
intuition was apparently not sending out any alarm bells.
told himself there was no time to worry about the strange
feeling in his gut, and with a sigh of acceptance, he
followed Dean over into the grounds of Manoir Rouge,
his huge hands sinking into soft moss as he straddled
the wall and then dropped down the other side.
can you keep that giraffe-like head and neck of yours
outta the light? We’re not exactly auditioning
for America’s Most Wanted here!”
was scowling at him. Sam could feel it through the rough
thicket even though he couldn’t actually see his
was a soft double click as Dean cracked open his sawed
off, checked the rock salt load and then snapped it
Sasquatch, you hit the security system and I’ll
fry our ‘little problem’s’ stuff.
No more miss hissy fit, period.”
Sam answered, but Dean was already scooting across an
open grass area towards the house.
a second, Sam knew his brother would vanish inside using
the easily forcible basement doors to gain entry. Once
he’d gotten access, he’d have the fun task
of finding their spook’s belongings and burning
them while Sam was making sure the house’s extensive
CCTV system wasn’t picking anything up but static.
saw Dean’s shadow disappear and knew he’d
dropped down into the underground room. He glanced up
at the turn of the century building, checking that no
lights had suddenly come on in any of the bedrooms.
the same path across the lawn as Dean, he veered to
the left at the last minute and dropped to his knees
next to the back door. There was a small black control
box fixed to the wall: An expensive but out of date
alarm system he’d been “circumventing”
for a good few years without any glitches.
over his shoulder just once, Sam plucked out his pocket-sized
tool pack and got to work.
minutes for the alarm, then a further five minutes inside
jimmying the cameras and wiping any recording of Dean
doing weird things in the basement.
stuffed a watchmaker’s tiny screwdriver into his
mouth for safekeeping and began pulling out a section
would the Denisons think if they knew he was breaking
into their house only a few short days after the death
of one of their children?
and Penny Denison had bought the period home only four
weeks previously, moving in with their twin daughters,
Kerry and Kathy.
until that point, Manoir Rouge had been a perfectly
normal house, in a perfectly normal town.
then, somehow, the Denisons had disturbed something
old that had wanted to rest forever, and little Kerry
had paid the ultimate price.
had taken very little research to discover just what
and who they were fighting, and in the early hours of
the previous day, Dean had burned the bones of their
spook with enough lighter fluid to keep all of California’s
Fire Departments busy for a year, maybe two.
the Winchesters were putting the final touches of their
plan into place to make sure Ooljee Nascha could never
hurt anyone again.
pressed two sections of copper together and sucked down
a breath. A small light on an interior panel turned
from red to green and he dared exhale.
light work of the door lock now it had no backup, Sam
edged into the rear entrance hall and up to the base
of a large wooden flight of stairs.
Munster was here,” he muttered under his breath
as he carefully pulled a short-barreled pump action
from under his jacket. There was no reason for it, but
he unexpectedly felt the urge for its reassuring presence
in his hands.
CCTV room was supposed to be a small closet under the
stairwell. He slid the shotgun up to the half-sized
wooden door there and paused. What was he afraid of?
big bad wolf. Sammy is afraid of the big bad wolf,
a tiny voice inside his head began to cackle and Sam
spun around, abruptly feeling like he’d been violated.
the top of the stairs, he thought he heard movement.
Were the Denisons awake?
then it came.
soft, unmistakable whimper of a child.
moved again, positioning himself with the shotgun so
he could quickly let off a couple of shells if he needed
his barrel lined up with the staircase, he found he
was aiming at a small blonde six-year-old. It was Kathy
felt his throat bob even though he didn’t recall
giving it permission.
little girl seemed almost trance-like. Her pale blue
eyes stared out into space as if there was nothing left
on Earth to focus on. Either she was sleepwalking…
mouth opened and a voice thick with a deep native accent
spoke out. “I can still feel the knife –”
Kathy, the air grew thick with a strange charge that
even at this distance made every hair on Sam’s
body stand to attention. He could feel the tiny follicles
in his skin bristling as some unseen force tugged at
then it began.
noticed tiny whirls of dust on the wooden floor that
appeared to grow and transform until they were spinning
and gyrating in a larger mass. A tiny scrap of paper
was sucked into the maelstrom, followed by any smaller
items that weren’t nailed down.
thing continued to grow outwards, it’s epicenter
a dark and tumultuous place than burned with a hundred-year-old
anger. An anger that now focused itself on a defenseless
dust cloud settled around Kathy, encircling her, but
as yet, not touching her precious pale skin.
grasped the shotgun harder until his knuckles turned
white. This was what the gut feeling had been
warning him about. This was the one thing he
dreaded on any hunt.
involvement of an innocent child.
assessed his chances of getting a shot off at the thing
before it could do any harm. While the rock salt would
sting Kathy this close, it shouldn’t do any real
damage. But could he take the chance?
spinning whirlwind was playing with him, using the girl
as bait. Kathy was a human shield for a creature that
had lost all conscience a very long time ago.
I could shoot to her left. Wing the thing enough to
get it away from her…
dust devil screeched and the girl spoke again, in that
same rasping voice. “I can still feel the knife
know,” Sam agreed, taking the first step on the
stairs. “I understand what you went through. I
can help you…if you’ll just let Kathy go…”
dust devil appeared to slow, coalescing into a more
solid shape that almost wrapped itself around the girl
like a black funeral shroud.
it once touched her actual flesh, then it would all
be over. This entity held the power of death at its
ethereal fingertips. It carried a form of ghost sickness
Sam knew well, but not one he had ever wanted to encounter
me help you,” he offered again, but Ooljee Nascha
had other ideas. She didn’t want help, she wanted
cold, harsh revenge.
human-shaped hand shot from the spinning bulk around
the girl, just one fingertip tracing along the flesh
of Kathy’s right forearm.
saw the indoor whirlwind’s actions and pulled
back on his pump action’s trigger three times
in quick succession, a white cloud of salt peppering
the top of the stairs and blanketing an oak cabinet
in its opaline patina.
quickly as it had formed, the mini-tempest dissipated,
its form disintegrating back into innocent particles
as the dust specks settled, falling back onto the dark
stained floor boards, Kathy fell with them, her blue
eyes frozen like the heart that had once beat within
sound of the young girl’s body hitting the landing
only half registered in Sam’s brain. Somehow,
he had known this would happen. His mind had screamed
at him not to come here, and because he’d ignored
that warning, Kathy Denison had perished.
noises began to erupt around him, but Sam didn’t
hear them. He simply stared at the empty staircase,
reliving the lifeless, hollow look in Kathy’s
what the..?” Dean barged through a side door,
a distinct smell of lighter fluid following in his wake.
He paused as his gaze followed his brother’s and
landed on the girl’s crumpled body. “Aww
wasn’t fast enough, Dean. I could have stopped
distant police siren began to warble somewhere in the
suburbs. It would be at Manoir Rouge in ten minutes,
head snapped upwards as the familiar sound of light
switches being flicked filled the air.
Sam, we gotta shag ass. I figure one of us tripped a
silent alarm sensor. The cops will be here any second.”
Dean pulled at his brother’s arm, and eventually
Sam relinquished, but inside, he didn’t actually
care if he got arrested.
deserved it, didn’t he?
swung the Impala out onto the interstate and just let
the big old bird glide. The Chevy was in her element
on roads like this, and in a way, it was almost like
being able to stick her on autopilot.
a gig like their last, it was often a blessing.
looked over to his brother, a mass of brooding muscle
that hadn’t spoken since they’d hastily
vacated Manoir Rouge.
you know sometimes this is gonna happen. You do
know that right? After all we’ve been through?”
He raised a brow and tried to sound like the kid’s
death hadn’t affected him.
had, but hunting was a kind of war, and inevitably,
there were always going to be casualties. One day, Dean
had no doubt he and Sam would be among them.
was just six, Dean. Just six! You didn’t
have to look into her eyes as that thing snuffed
out her life with one touch.” He banged a hand
on the dashboard in frustration as if he’d never
seen death before. “Don’t give me that crap
that I should accept this as part of the job, because
I never will.” Sam looked at his brother, brows
furrowing and nostrils flaring in anger at the world.
“Did you finish it?” He finally snapped,
his eyes locking on something out of the side window
rather than on his sibling.
flipped his favorite Zippo over in his free hand. “Consider
Ooljee Nascha’s sorry butt officially ganked.
I torched everything in that basement that could have
belonged to her.”
nodded, but it was of little consolation.
Denison’s death was just one to add to a long
line that he felt responsible for.
Sam, this isn’t about that kid, is it? It’s
about Mom, about Jess…hell, its about leaving
Dad in that church while we got a get outta jail for
free card, right?”
didn’t answer, instead, he looked down at his
palms. There were no traces of red there to show his
least, no visible ones.
deep down, Sam still knew there was blood on his hands
that he would never be able to scrub clean.
that was the bane of the gifted children. And right
now, he wasn’t sure the ability was worth the
consequences it brought with it.
isn’t over, Dean. It’s never over…”
Three weeks later…
was dripping. Not a fast drip, but more like an annoying
faucet that required a new washer.
tried to push the sound into the back of his mind so
that he could sleep some more. But it wouldn’t
go. It just lingered, adding to the already pounding
headache that was plaguing him.
he gave in and forced his gritty eyes open.
was hard to focus at first, and he tried to roll over,
mumbling under his breath that they shouldn’t
use this motel again – the beds were way too hard
and the plumbing sucked.
only managed half a turn when his arm yanked back, nearly
pulling his shoulder from the socket. Along with a sharp
searing pain from his wrist up to his elbow, came a
metallic ring that suggested something was definitely
groaned. “Dean, if this is another one of your
‘what can I handcuff Sammy to next’ jokes,
it’s so not funny.” He squinted in the darkness,
trying to cajole his eyes to adjust to the gloom more
appeared he was indeed chained to a rather grimy toilet.
The problem was, this was most definitely not the Winchesters’
bathroom. Even they had some standards, and
this was just gross.
rubbed the forefinger of his free hand across his temple,
concern now centered on exactly why he had the throbbing
headache. The last thing he recalled was going out to
grab Dean a burger from a twenty-four hour diner near
many hours had passed since then?
looked again at the toilet, an unpleasant memory from
a hunt in Las Vegas making him at least thankful that
he was chained to the thing rather than having his head
stuffed down it.
that comes next. Or worse…
voice was so sudden and unexpected Sam actually jumped
slightly as the two words echoed hollowly around the
room. He squinted again, eager to see their point of
opposite him, and also chained to a pipe, was a blond
man of about forty. He had short, curly hair and appeared
to be wearing a grey vest that hadn’t been in
vogue for several decades.
shadows played cheekily across his features, making
it hard to see his expression, but Sam could have sworn
the newcomer was smiling despite their apparent predicament.
Sam stared at him, the man’s gaze dropped to the
concrete floor of the room and fixed on something about
halfway between them. He pointed at it helpfully, but
never offered to speak.
scrutinized the object. It was a hatchet – a recently
sharpened hatchet from the way the blade glinted in
the muted light from a bulb that hung overhead.
He groaned again, this time loud enough for his new
friend to hear. This wasn’t one of Dean’s
bad jokes, but it was still a joke. It had to be, didn’t
it? Someone was making a half-assed attempt at recreating
the movie Saw, and he was smack bang in the
middle of it.
leaned as far forward as his cuffs would allow. “Dude,
you got a name?” If they had any hope of finding
out what was going on, or indeed escaping, they had
to get to know one another. They had to join forces.
blond man sat forward too, his eyes apparently appraising
every move Sam made, reading his expression, his body
language, perhaps even his unspoken thoughts. “More
to the point,” he eventually responded. “Do
you have a name?”
a question with a question. Wasn’t that meant
to mean something in psychologist land? The trouble
was, Sam couldn’t remember what. “My name’s
man flashed that quick, but disarming smile again and
his eyes twinkled with something Sam could only describe
as mirth. “Patrick. Patrick Jane.”
name tickled at the back of Sam’s memory, but
he couldn’t think why. They’d definitely
never met before, of that he was sure. This guy was
just a little too off base to ever forget.
you know how we got here?” Sam looked around the
room again. It was cluttered with junk, and unfortunately
for their sakes, had only one tiny window.
were two exits. One door that probably led to stairs
and into a house, and wooden trap doors that undoubtedly
opened into a garden.
watched him assess their situation. “Why do you
think we’re here, Sam?”
more interested in how we get out of here than the why.
I’ve been in a situation like this before, and
trust me, we don’t want to stick around long enough
for the whacko behind this to get home.” Sam nodded
towards the hatchet with a slight scowl, a distinct
flashback of the Benders’ house unsettling him.
“One thing’s for sure, I’m not hacking
off a limb with that thing.”
cocked his head, looking at the chopper with more curiosity
than fear, and from his blank expression Sam guessed
the man had never seen Saw – which, given
the outcome of the movie, was probably a good thing.
Jane smiled wanly. “It might be…interesting,”
he offered without explaining more.
scrunched up his face, not sure how to take his newfound
friend. The guy was plain weird, but like it or not
they were stuck together.
glanced down at the shiny new cuffs attaching him to
the toilet, shaking his hands in frustration until the
metal jangled on porcelain. He could try dislocating
his thumb to escape them, but he didn’t really
have a great track record with that particular trick.
silly of me.”
looked back to see Jane fumbling in his vest pocket,
a strange sparkle in his eyes that could mean anything.
This one was a wildcard, an unpredictable, but undeniably
intelligent man who definitely shouldn’t be locked
in a basement with a hunter.
why the hell are we both here?
seemed oblivious to Sam’s ponderings and had begun
picking at the locks on his cuffs with a newly-found
pin. As he worked, he began to quietly talk again, his
carefully planned words reminding Sam of an expensive
psychiatrist analyzing a patient.
know what I think, Sam? I think we’ve both been
brought here as a punishment.”
for what?” He rattled the cuffs on the toilet
again. “Not cleaning the john when I was a kid?”
stopped poking around inside the lock on his wrist and
looked up. This time, there was no smile, no cheeky
flash in his eyes, there was only sadness. Sam couldn’t
tell if it was genuine or not, but the face he was now
seeing was that of a man who had lost everything.
knew, because he’d seen that look in his dad’s
eyes every time John mentioned Mary.
people died because of my ego. How about you Sam?”
Jane’s eyes locked with the young hunter’s
and it was all Sam could do not to look away.
helped people, he saved people, he would never intentionally
hurt anyone, would he? But that hadn’t been the
question, had it? Intentional or not, people died around
him. Kids died around him.
shuddered as Kathy Denison’s haunted eyes appeared
on the back of his retinas, filling his vision for one
split second. Then, the moment of hesitation was gone
and he shook his head.
nodded slowly, deliberately, apparently interpreting
the pause before Sam answered for exactly what it was.
the hunter’s reaction meant anything to him, Jane
didn’t show it. Instead, he tossed down the pin
he’d been working on the cuffs with. “Superglue
in the mechanism,” he explained, impassively.
“I guess that means we have to go back to plan
have a plan B?”
shrugged, his inscrutable expression never faltering.
“Well, there’s always the axe…”
RJ’s Roadside Motel
Dean shifted on the bed, a small snort erupting from
his lips as the TV remote fell from his hand and made
a loud thump on the floor. The sound barely registered
on his eardrums and he was about to drift back off into
blissful slumber when Patrick Swayze yanked him back
We're all going to die, die standing up!”
Dean blinked and almost thought he heard his father
shouting those same words at him. Instead, as he swiftly
sat up, he realized it was simply the movie he’d
been watching blaring out at almost full volume.
fumbled for the lost remote and quickly turned Swayze’s
Red Dawn to a more tolerable level. “Sammy,
why didn’t you turn the TV down before I go deaf
in my sleep?”
was no answer, and Dean suddenly remembered he’d
sent his younger sibling off for food. But that was
halfway through the previous movie, wasn’t it?
rubbed at his eyes and checked his watch. It was three
in the morning – which meant he’d been dozing
for over two hours, and Sam had been gone just as long
for a burger that should have taken ten minutes.
swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pulled on his
CAT boots and took in the motel room for any signs that
his brother had been and gone again.
Samantha, this better not be about that gig in La Jolla
since Kathy Denison had been killed, Sam had been distracted,
depressed even, and Dean was having a hard time understanding
why. They’d been hunting long enough to be able
to deal with that kind of crap. And yet Sam was apparently
forgetting everything he’d learned in favor of
a few pent up emotions.
losing their father back at Stull had been the catalyst,
but Dean refused to believe that that was a permanent
situation, and Sam should too. Once the church became
visible again they’d do their thing and free John.
lot of good that does me right now, though.” Dean
huffed and considered calling Bobby. Maybe Sam had confided
in him in the absence of their father.
problem was, the more Dean thought about it, the more
he had to consider that Sam wasn’t actually off
sulking somewhere. Yeah, he’d been “off”
but not to that extent.
what if this is Lucifer’s doing? Or maybe more
pissed off hunters after our asses again?
grabbed his silver Colt from the bedside table and automatically
checked the clip. Satisfied, he tucked it safely out
of sight under his jacket and jogged out towards the
twenty-four hour diner Sam had been heading for.
the air was warm and there was a light breeze that Dean
attributed to the Santa Anas. Save for the sound of
the odd car on the adjacent highway, there wasn’t
a soul to be seen from the motel all the way up to the
distant flashing neon of “Cherry Hills Diner.”
picked up the pace, checking for signs of a struggle
in the dusty earth that served as a path. There was
nothing. And there were no roadside cameras here like
there had been the last time Sam had gone AWOL like
mouth began to grow dry with an inner panic he hadn’t
felt in a long time.
diner’s doorbell jangled annoyingly in his ear
as he barged through the doorway. The place was empty
except for a short and very round man in his fifties
wearing a grease-stained apron.
Dean approached, the chubby patron seemed to force himself
into some semi semblance of awareness. “What can
I get you?” The high-pitched nasal tone was almost
as annoying as the door chime – almost.
sauntered up to the counter anyway. He would put up
with a hundred jerks if it meant finding his brother.
“Coffee, black.” He tossed a twenty down.
“And maybe a little of your time.”
if you want that kind of entertainment you
better go into town.” The half human, half hippo
looked like he was actually being serious.
stifled a choke, turning it into a gruff cough at the
last minute. “I meant information, Bubba.”
man stuck a cup on the table and filled it with coffee
that had been stewing for maybe a year. A fat pudgy
hand snatched up the twenty and didn’t offer any
change. “What kind of information?” He asked
lookin’ for a tall dude, floppy hair, big puppy
dog eyes. Might have come in earlier for a burger with
extra onions to go?” Dean raised a brow, trying
desperately to keep a straight face whilst looking the
man in the eye.
think I know the guy you mean.” Hippo Man nodded,
his bottom lip pouting out as he thought harder. “I
remember because there was a fuss out in the parking
lot right after he left.”
flashed another note. “What kinda fuss?”
voices arguing, upsetting my clients, you know? And
then a dark Jeep Cherokee sped off out of the lot and
almost took my sign right along with it! I nearly called
the cops.” The man shrugged and moved away to
prod several dogs that had probably been on the hot
plate since lunch.
looked at the food, but he’d lost all appetite
the minute Sam had gone missing. He rubbed a hand across
his bottom lip and felt stubble there.
was one slim chance, just one, and he really wasn’t
holding out any hope Hippo Man was going to come through
asked anyway. “Dude, I don’t suppose you
caught the license plate on the Jeep?”
man tapped the counter gently, as if waiting for another
note to magically appear. “Of course I did,”
he cooed. “Not much point in thinking of calling
the cops without it now, was there?”
dropped a twenty so fast Sam would have passed out in
shock had he been present.
pudgy hand snatched the note. “Was a California
plate. 298 G35.”
it!” Dean yanked out his cell and dived back outside.
Maybe Bobby could help find out who owned the Cherokee?
paced a little, finger hovering over speed dial. Then
it hit. There were two cops who might help him directly
if he simply had the balls to ask.
up both numbers he tried to decide who might have the
best intel. Kathleen in Minnesota, or Guevara in Baltimore
In the end, he plumped for Guevara, praying that someone,
somewhere could figure out who had taken his brother,
wasn’t sure which was more frustrating, the way
the cuffs were chafing at his wrists, or Patrick Jane’s
bizarre attitude. The man seemed pleasant enough, but
all he wanted to do was ask questions, rarely giving
out any answers himself.
you think this is punishment for some kind of mistake
you made?” Sam probed, having nothing better to
do than stare at the ceiling.
instantly became aloof, his eyes glassing over as if
Sam had hit the jackpot. “Tell me, Sam, have you
ever heard of a serial killer named Red John?”
shrugged. He’d heard of many killers, but in his
business, most of them turned out to be demons or lost
spirits searching for resolution.
taunted him,” Jane continued. “Just one
mistake on national television was all it took. I boasted
I could help catch him, and I paid the price with my
family. I came home that night to find my wife and daughter
dead, and Red John’s mark on the wall. He even
left me a note on the door.”
listened, and this time, he was the one reading body
language. Until now, he hadn’t really trusted
anything Jane had said. But this, this was the truth
– he could see it in the man’s grief-stricken
what if Jane was right? What if this was a kind of castigation
for his crimes? Did that mean Sam was here for the same
I haven’t hurt anyone! His mind twisted in
a vortex of disjointed images and memories of long-forgotten
about the girl, Sammy? The sentence screamed out
until he wanted to put his hands over his ears, but
it would do no good. The insinuation was in his mind,
and in his mind alone.
about Mom, Jess…what about Kathy, Sam?
realized he was breathing hard as he tried to smother
the thoughts – something Jane had apparently noticed
– but then, he noticed everything.
you should just kill me?”
suggestion caught Sam off guard and all his other woes
were hastily forgotten. “I should what?”
his voice raised an octave.
killed before, haven’t you? Why should now be
you nuts? Even if I could kill you, why would I want
smirked again – something that he appeared to
do quite often for no apparent reason other than to
unnerve Sam. Something, Sam noted, that would surely
have gotten him punched out by now if Dean was around.
anyone had ever threatened to swing at Jane, he didn’t
show it, his demeanor never changing. “Before
you awakened, our captor made me swallow a key. To be
precise, the key to this basement room. Even if we could
get free from our restraints, the only way of escape
is inside me.”
blinked in surprise, but then he should have been expecting
something like this. Remember the Saw movies,
he reminded himself. “Maybe we can just kick the
damn door in if we can get free?” Sam suggested
was all getting too much.
kidnapper implied there would be consequences should
we attempt to open the door without the key,”
Jane looked at his watch. “Oh, and if we don’t
get out within say oh…fifty-two minutes, the room
fills with cyanide gas.”
gotta be kidding me?”
shook his head as if the situation was all in a day’s
work. “You have a choice, Sam. We both die or
you can kill me and live. It’s nothing you haven’t
done before, is it?”
makes you say that?”
tapped his fingers together in front of him in a steeple
shape. “You have, haven’t you?”
didn’t answer. He didn’t owe this stranger
a reply, especially not when his gut told him he was
being baited. The same gut that told you not to
go into Manoir Rouge..?
very name of the house made him angry, angry at himself,
angry at Jane for rekindling the feelings.
snorted, yanking at the cuffs holding him to the piping.
He didn’t deserve to be here. He didn’t
have to be here.
how strong can a pipe connecting a decrepit old john
tugged on the shackles again and again, his temper rising
with every jerk of his wrist. He could sense the energy
within him growing, the bitterness needing an outlet
until he thought his muscles would come apart at any
the best way to use his straining sinew, he gave one
last heave, wrenching the pipe away from the toilet
in one quick movement.
filthy water oozed from the torn conduit, splashing
over Sam as he pulled his cuffs free from its constraints.
Crap, almost worse than Vegas…
turned to check on his companion, but Jane simply sat
staring at him again, a look of wonder on his features
apparently caused by Sam’s sudden surge of strength.
Sam moved across the room, Jane’s eyes moved with
him, eventually locking on the axe that still sat innocently
waiting on the floor.
guessed what the other man was thinking. Would he use
the hatchet to get the key Patrick had swallowed?
for the first time himself, Sam reached his long gangly
frame down and grabbed the chopper, turning the handle
over in his huge paws until he could see his reflection
in the shimmering blade.
moth hovered around the lone bulb above his head, reminding
Sam there was work to be done. He moved forwards, reaching
Jane in just three quick steps.
eyes locked with his, watching, waiting for the blow
not to disappoint, Sam swung the axe high, gaining maximum
momentum before slamming it down on the chains that
held his roommate.
metal yielded easily to the blow, releasing Jane.
scrutinized the man’s face. Was that actual frustration
that had passed over his eyes for a split second?
the matter? Upset that you didn’t read me right?”
Sam offered Jane a hand up from the concrete floor and
he took it, brushing down his vest to remove the dust
he’d been forced to sit in. “I remember
you now. You’re the dude off the TV from a few
years back. You used to read minds, talk to the dead,
that kinda thing…”
would depend on your definition of the dead,”
Patrick said wanly. “If you mean I sweet talked
gullible audiences, then yes.”
eyes widened a little. If he’d expected anything
from Jane, it hadn’t been such blunt honesty.
The man was a true enigma. A pompous, arrogant ass one
minute, and an intelligent but sometimes childish clown
the next. He may read others well, but there was no
have to figure out where we are, and how we get out
of here before our kidnapper releases that gas.”
Sam trudged to the double wooden doors that led to the
outside, but it was clear something heavy and unmovable
had been placed against them to prevent any escape.
“We’re in a twelve by twelve room nobody
but our captor’s set foot in for years. It’s
not like anyone is gonna find us here…”
Jane pointed out helpfully. “I’d say the
room is twelve by fourteen at least.” He gestured
to the walls as if giving a lecture. “See, the
chamber isn’t square, it’s rectangular.
Our kidnapper isn’t the only one to come down
here, either. If you just look in the dust over there,
you can see two distinct sets of shoe prints.”
whirled around. “You always think you’re
right, don’t you?”
cocked his head dismissively. “Only most of the
well you’re wrong about us getting out of here.
There has to be a way.” Sam began to carefully
pat the outer edges of the door and its frame looking
for sensors or anything that might trip a booby trap.
He couldn’t feel anything untoward, but that didn’t
mean it wasn’t there. “Besides, we’re
not alone. Somewhere out there my brother will be looking
nodded as if he knew just what Sam was talking about.
“Ah yes, the elusive brother.”
didn’t pick up on the comment. He was too focused
on the doorway. If he could just use brute force like
he had on the cuffs then maybe this would all be over.
not thinking of…” Jane didn’t get
the chance to finish the sentence.
backed up and then ran full tilt at the door, slamming
into it with all his weight behind his right foot. The
door shuddered, but didn’t budge an inch.
don’t forget the threat!”
kicked again, temper fuelling his moves.
time, the room plunged into darkness, the only light
bulb flickering and then dying as if their captor had
a hidden switch.
him, Sam could hear movement. A rough scuffling noise
followed by a dull thud. He turned, trying to lock onto
the sounds, but as quickly as it had come, the blackness
receded, the light dimly returning to illuminate the
And it wasn’t pretty.
their kidnapper was not a man of idle threats. Just
feet away from Sam’s sneakers was a body pooling
in an ever-growing lagoon of blood.
turned away, unable to look upon the blond man’s
final pose. The psychic lay sprawled at an odd angle,
the hatchet buried deep in his chest until the sharpened
blade edge was barely visible.
face wore the expression of a man whose last moments
had been of shocked acceptance. He had known this was
coming, and had eventually conceded it was inevitable.
didn’t listen to him. I could have stopped this,
just like I could Kathy.
many more people have to die, Sam, before you confess
your sins? You and Jane deserve to be punished.”
turned to face the crackling, disembodied voice. It
was obviously coming from a hidden speaker somewhere,
and right now, he wanted to rip it out and toss it across
bad guy was watching them – no, watching him.
Jane wasn’t likely to jump up and start talking
what was the freak behind the mike getting out of all
you let him die, just like Kathy. Sam forced himself
to look at Jane again. Maybe this really was all his
fault. Maybe I really did inadvertently cause the
deaths of some of the people I‘ve tried to help?
so, did that give the mystery kidnapper the right to
do this? Did it give him the right to hold them hostage,
to kill Jane?
dammit, no one has that right!
a whim, Sam kneeled beside the oozing body and pressed
two fingers to Jane’s neck. He couldn’t
be alive from such a horrific injury, but Sam had to
be sure. He owed the TV psychic that much.
he’d suspected, there was nothing.
Sam…admit to the deaths…”
pushed up from the floor and stared in the direction
the voice was emanating from. No matter what, he’d
be damned if he was going to bare his soul to this freak.
bite me, ’cause I ain’t telling you jack!”
Sam smiled wanly at his retort. Dean would have been
proud of him.
fittingly for the weird situation, the solitary light
bulb gave out again all but blinding Sam. He batted
his eyelids, trying to readjust to the gloom.
before he could even focus, three gunshots rang out
in the darkness, perhaps heralding the conclusion of
his captor’s game and the end of another life.
the episode here