FIC: Supernatural - Shades of Comfort: 12- 14
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Chapter 12
"Sam!" Dean yelled, already moving as a figure lurched out of the veiling shadows, some kind of metal rack raised above his head.
Sam didn't even have time to turn as the guy swung, sweeping the metal into the back of his brothers head in a solid strike that simply dropped Sam like an abandoned doll.
Owen fell back, dropping the book, scrambling away from the guy.
The shades stopped. The slow, mindless churning stilled, and as one, those featureless faces turned toward Sam.
Sam, who was unconscious on the floor. Sam, who was in obvious need of medical attention.
Dean scrambled at the same time the horde moved. He stood over Sam, keeping the shades back with the iron pipe, watching them dissolve into specks as the pipe passed through them… but it was like trying to wave flies off of a body, they just kept swarming, black hands flickering and grabbing, trying to 'help'.
Behind him Owen was doing a little scrambling of his own. "Derek?" he gasped. "Derek, what the hell are you doing?"
Derek was prowling toward the smaller man, the camera tripod still raised. "You can't stop it," Derek growled, sounding crazed. "This is meant to be, Owen. I heard you. I heard what you said. You want to stop it! But you can't! This is the most amazing thing to ever happen, to ever be recorded! I'm going to go down in history as the man who caught the other side on tape - and you will not take that AWAY FROM ME!"
He swung the tripod, and Owen dodged, grabbing the metal. But that was the extent of Owen's fighting skills. Derek dropped the tripod and lunged at him. The large man had Owen hoisted off the ground and actually carried him the few steps to the wall. There he locked Owen in place, an arm across his throat, slowly strangling him.
"The whole time you were gone," he panted at the struggling man, "after Gilly left me here, alone and in the dark… and the ghosts just kept coming and coming… I was so scared. Then the camera came on, and I knew, I knew, that I was being given a gift. I was left here alone to document it all. You two weren't worthy. No… you were taken away as unclean and Gilly just ran. Like a frightened little girl," each word was punctuated by an increased pressure on Owen's windpipe. "But I stayed. And they let me stay, and I sat in the corner and then I figured it out. They wanted me to record this! They want a record of their return! And you will not stop it!"
Dean could see Owen's eyes rolling to white. He could see the way his arms were slipping as his muscles gave in. Dean knew he was going to have to move now if he wanted to save Owen -
Which would leave Sam defenseless among the waiting shades.
"Damn it," Dean growled. "C'mon, Sam! Get up!" He nudged him with a foot, swinging at yet another three shades who were kneeling to grab his brother, and watched the shades evaporate. But there were plenty more where those had come from, all pressing in to get a hold on Sam.
Sam groaned.
"That's it, Sam!" Dean encouraged, swinging again. "Get up!"
Sam's eyes blinked open. Owen's eyes sagged shut.
Dean brushed back two more shades. Derek grinned manically. Cursing, Dean started to move, already knowing he was going to be too late.
Then Gillian stepped out of the darkness. In her hand was the sharpened piece of metal she'd picked up what seemed like hours ago.
She came up behind Derek, as silent and smooth as the shades - and plunged the shard of metal into Derek's side.
Derek shrieked, dropping Owen and clutching his bleeding flank. Gillian stepped back, scared but calm, her bloody, makeshift blade ready. She stared at him. "Who's the frightened little girl now, Derek?" she said in an almost conversational tone.
Derek screamed. Then charged her. Gillian stiffened, ready to fight. Dean moved, ready to back her.
Derek took two steps - then stopped moving. There was a shade, holding his arm. A second took his shoulder. Three more moved in from both sides. Derek's head whipped around, eyes flicking from blank face to blank face. "No," he breathed, as the shades moved in. "Not me! You need me! Remember? No!"
The last was a scream of pure terror as the shades picked him up, carrying him away. He disappeared into the black mass, his shout cut off like someone slamming a door.
Gillian knelt next to Owen. The shades were moving in on them, too. Others approached Sam who was still laying on the floor next to the sigil.
"Owen," Gillian said quietly, her voice full of tears.
Owen roused. His eyes widened as the black shapes moved inexorably closer. His gaze darted from one expressionless form to the next as he struggled to set up. As Gillian clutched his hand, Owen pulled a deep breath and shouted. "Termino obducis; permissum preteritus sileo!"
"No!"
Sam heard the scream. His body jerked in reaction, sending an agonizing shockwave through his skull. His stomach churned, his vision sparked black, but he was fully awake. Terror - even other people's terror - could do that.
Sam groggily pushed himself to his hands and knees. He looked around, trying to find Dean, to get a handle on what had happened to him - on what was happening now… but all he could see was black form after black form. From the number, he wondered if he had double, or even triple vision.
God, he hoped so. Otherwise, there was no getting away from that many shades…
"Termino obducis; permissum preteritus sileo!"
The words echoed though the room, and Sam recognized them instantly, his brain automatically translating despite the headache. Owen was closing the spell. Sam glanced down. He was right next to the sigil.
He reached out and scrubbed a hand through the chalk line, breaking the focal point of the energy.
There was a flare. Bright and white and blinding. The light burned through the room like the flash of an old fashioned camera, hot and somehow thick. It chased away the shades, unknitting them.
The shadows faded without a noise. The light receded, washing back through the room like a bight tide until it dulled back down into normality.
When the light faded, Sam blinked in the dark, trying to get his balance. His eyes felt sunburned, and spots danced through his vision. His head pounded and he felt nauseous. "Dean?" he tried to croak, but his throat locked up in a fiery knot before he could get the sound out. The pain in his throat echoed the pain in his head, and left him disorientated and woozy. He contemplated just laying down on the floor right where he was and worrying about everything after a little nap.
Dean's lighter flickered into life. He was going to have to refill it after tonight, Sam thought hazily.
"Sammy?" Dean called.
Sam tried to make a noise…failed to get even a squeak out this time, and resorted to clapping his hands.
Dean hurried over. He knelt down, running a practiced hand over the back of Sam's skull, and pulled away when Sam hissed, giving him a weak glare.
Dean's mouth tightened. "I think we match now," he observed. "Not too bad, but enough of a lump for a minor concussion."
Sam rubbed at his eyes. They were dry and still dazzled by the flash of light. The wandering bright patches in his vision made it even harder to focus past the headache.
"Is it over?" Gillian asked. She came a little closer, holding Owen's hand. Owen was sporting deep bruises over his neck.
Dean glanced at Sam. "No more shades. So I'm guessing it's over."
A scream echoed through the old building.
Gillian's eyes got wide.
"Derek," Owen muttered.
"Damn it," Dean hissed, tensing all over again. "This night is just never going to end." He stood up. "Let's go find him."
Dean pulled Sam up, holding him steady until he found his feet. Head down, breathing through the pain, Sam's eyes caught on something laying on the edge of the ruined sigil.
He pushed away from his brother, giving him a reassuring look and patting his shoulder.
Dean assessed him, then nodded, moving off to start leading the way.
Sam leaned over, his head swimming with the change of position, and snagged it - then followed the others out of the room.
*
Chapter 11 Chapter 13