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Sam has lost track of time. It could have been hours, it could have been days since he was searching the garden with Dean and now he had no idea where he was, floating or so it seems, in a sea of uncertainty and darkness, the metaphor sounded strange even in his head. Dean.
The thought of his brother hit him like a slap to the face and Sam was suddenly completely coherent. His eyes searching the darkness for any hint of anything. He had no idea what to look for, not even sure where he was, he could be dreaming, he could have slipped and hit his head. But something in the back of his mind, a strange niggling feeling, like a child's laughter far off that you can't quite hear, but you know you can, is calling to him. Sam wanted to laugh, his own inner monologue sounding even more strange to him than the sea metaphor. But the feeling of wherever he is, is almost ethereal, and is making him think more than he has for a long time.
“Sammy. Sammy Winchester.” The voice was inside his head, or so it seemed. A child's voice, full of adult inflections and a strange knowing tone that made Sam want to shiver. “You have no idea how long I have waited to play with you.” Sam shivered again, the words sliding down his spine like a drop of ice cold water.
And suddenly all senses came flooding back to him in a rush that took his breath away and made him double over.
The light was too bright for a second, like sitting in darkness and then someone turns the lights on, the flash of brightness making it nigh impossible to see. The sounds were completely alien to his ears. And when he could see, finally, he still had no idea where he was. It looked like a throne room of some kind, large arched windows stretched from floor to ceiling, flooding the room in a strange light that Sam knew was daylight, even though it gave the room a strange glow, like nothing he had ever seen. The impossibly high ceiling was covered with frescoes that seemed to move, an ever changing scene. The floor, when looking at the ceiling made Sam feel sick and he lowered his head, was marble, or something that felt and looked like marble. Sam was still crouching on the floor when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun, faster than his head wanted him to, and a wave of light-headedness hit him again.
A young girl of about 15 stood in front of him. The white dress she wore gave of an air of simplicity that was completely ruined when you took a second look, it practically shimmered, looking just as alive as the girl that wore it. Her almost black hair hung in soft curls over her shoulders and framed a face that looked almost ancient, grey eyes which burned with a ferocity that no 15 year old should have.
“Sammy.” She leant down and place her hands under Sam's arms and hauled him off the floor. The strength in the girls hands made Sam take a step back. He towered over her but somehow felt that she was the one looking down at him.
“I'm sorry for the way I took you, but you must understand it was a necessity.”
“Dean...”
“Ah yes, you Winchester's, always worried about the others. Dean is fine. Well, he not.” The giggle that the girl let out crawled across Sam's skin like spiders, making him want to brush his arms. “He's worried, really worried. But he will be fine. He'll forget about you soon enough. Just like you'll forget about him.”
“Who the hell are you?” The girl looked affronted for a second, before the perfect mask of ancient wisdom and mischief with a hint of evil settled back onto her face.
“Morgan Le Fey.” She stated, turning around, her dark curls swinging across her back as she made her was across the room. “Welcome to my humble abode. I trust you will be very happy here.” And with that, a swish of her dress and a crack of thunder, she was gone, leaving Sam blink into the empty room.
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Dean had decided a while ago, ok maybe only a few hours ago, but it feels like days, that he can't function properly without Sam. They bounce off each other, helping each other with research, knocking each other down when they come up with stupid ideas. And Dean had no idea where to start looking. And if Sam had been around, there was no way Dean would have kidnapped a 5 year old girl in the middle of the night. Now that he admits it, not one of his best ideas.
But he can't work without Sam, he feels like part of him is missing.
The knock on the door was a welcome break from the constant pacing and idle chatter from Sophie.
“Dean?” Bobby's voice floated through the door and Dean didn't know if he had ever been as pleased to see him.
“How you doin' son?” Bobby asked as Dean shut the door and re-applied the salt line. Sophie slid off the bed.
“This your daddy Dean?” She asked. The eerie ancient quality her eyes took on back in the garden had all but vanished, leaving an excitable, sweet 5 year old in its wake. She looked up at Bobby with a hint of worry and awe.
“No Soph, this is a friend, Bobby.” Bobby frowned at the nickname and looked at Dean who just shrugged when Sophie took his hand and pulled him into the room.
“Dean needs to find Sam.” She announced. Bobby nodded indulgently.
“I know. And I gather you can help us?” Bobby asked. Sophie nodded and grabbed the mug from the small table in the room. She took a long gulp and put the mug back on the table, milk moustache covering her top lip. Dean resisted the urge to lean down and wipe it off. Bobby did it for him.
Watching Bobby with Sophie was a lesson for Dean. Obviously Bobby had been part of Dean's life for as long as he could remember, but Dean had never really thought of himself as a kid, therefore never really noticed how good with kids Bobby was. But Sophie had taken to him immediately and was now sitting on one of the chairs with a piece of paper, drawing a picture of Morgan for Bobby.
Bobby stalked over to Dean, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Cute kid.” Dean nodded. “So, any ideas?” Bobby asked.
“None. Seriously Bobby, I am getting worried, ok, so I was already worried, but Jesus. Why does evil keep messing with Sam? Can't we just be left alone?” Dean sat down heavily on the bed and placed his head on his hands. He felt wretched, useless and scared. And helpless. And he hated every second of it. And he also can't deny the almost all consuming need to reek vengeance on the bitch that took Sam, after he has given Sam the hug of his life that it.
“Son, you're in the wrong business if you want to be left alone by evil.”
“Just feel like I am always trying to save him Bobby.” Even to his own ears, he sounded small and tired. Bobby patted him gently in he shoulder. “Feel like its a loosing battle sometimes.”
“We'll get him back Dean.”
“Just call her.” Sophie said from the table without looking up. She cocked her head to the side, studying her picture before picking the motel stationary up again and adding some more pencil lines to the paper.
“Soph?” Dean asked. Sophie stopped drawing and turned around in her chair. Her eyes looked ancient again and Dean heard Bobby's in take of breath and he knew that Bobby had seen the knowing age in Sophie's gaze too.
“Morgan comes when she is called.” Sophie said before grinning, suddenly 5 years old again, grabbing her picture, slipping off the chair and handing it to Bobby.
“Well let's find a summoning ritual then.” Bobby said, smiling at Sophie's expectant gaze as she waited for praise for the picture.
“Jesus Bobby, how the hell do you summon the Queen Of the Unseelie court?” Dean asked, scrubbing a hand over her face. Sophie giggled.
“Just call her silly.”
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*dances*
GO BOBBY!!!
*sniffle*
I'm sorry, I just need some Bobby after what Faith di-did to hi-im.
*runs away crying over Bobby*
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*nods head*
Uh-huh. She is.
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Thank you sweetness!
xx
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By the way, did you see that Aaron dumped another "tries to ruin porny fun" comment in the thread on my facebook? He's such a prude. *giggles*
He called you my redcoat friend, by the by. =D
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lol
Redcoat hey...I do have a redcoat...and a white one.
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Requiem has another chapter nearly ready to go.
xx
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Man, I love the innocence of a child. Sophie's too cute.
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Glad you like Sophie
xx