Part of the Family Business (A Supernatural Fanfic)

Chapter Sixteen

The three of us sit outside of Thalia's house tonight. It's dark and quiet. Thalia still has her lights on, so Sam is taking a nap until it's time to advance.

"Sam," I hear a loud whisper; it's Dean. "Sam, wake up." He shakes Sam a bit, and his head pops up.

"What?" Sam says quickly. Then he sighs, like he's realizing he has to kill someone and doesn't have the energy.

"She's gone to sleep; let's go," I say, standing up slightly in the car. I reach forward and pick the duffel bag up from the floor beside Sam's feet.

"Well, aren't you eager," Dean says, more of an observation than a question.

We shut the car doors quietly and swiftly walk around to a side door on Thalia's house. Dean picks the lock, and we go in. All three of us go separate ways - which is probably a bad idea - but I can't go back to find them now.

I search through drawers and shelves in what I assume to be a study. Then I move through a swinging door into a living room. It's mainly open space, so I continue to the other side through double doors made of glass and covered with curtains. When I walk in, I instinctively hold up my knife. Someone else is in here.

He turns around, and I realize it's Sam. Behind him I notice an altar and lower my weapon.

"Where's Dean?" we whisper at the same time. Sam rolls his eyes in aggravation. Then he's a statue, looking over my shoulder. Slowly, I turn around to see a door open slightly with dim light coming from the cracks.

Sam taps my elbow to get my attention and puts a finger to his lips. Then he cautiously walks toward the door and pushes it open. There's no squeaking, and he gestures for me to come over. I do and realize there are stairs leading down. It smells musky.

The two of us walk quietly, Sam with his gun ready. He rounds the corner quickly, holding his gun up.

"Dean," he loudly whispers. I follow after him. Dean sits tied to a chair and gagged in the middle of the room under a single, dim lightbulb.

He tries to say something, but the gag keeps the noise in his mouth. I walk over to him quickly and untie the piece of cloth from around his head.

"Thanks," he says hoarsely. "But you two need to leave."

"Not without you," I say. Sam keeps looking over his shoulder at the stairs.

"No," Dean protests, "please. You need to go. I'll be fine."

"No you won't," Sam says, trying to convince his brother.

"Your little brother's right," a high pitched voice behind us says. I hear heels click on the stairs. "You'll be far from fine."