To The Beat Of The Devil's Drums [Supernatural]

Look Down

Dean's eyes pan upwards to the rollercoaster tracks overhead, all the while forcing himself not to panic and keep his breathing steady. Through the ivy hanging down, the sight of movement makes his heart give a traitorous skip: the chain lift, having hooked an old, decrepit car and now dragging it to the top of a slope. Dean feels a chill as he wonders how it's moving by itself. His eyes follow the track further, up to the peak almost directly above him before the rails plummet steeply down to his right. It registers with him just as the car reaches the crest: the kink in the track where a connection has loosened, metal warping between the track and the supports so that it rattles ominously as the car draws closer.

A heartbeat later, and the car pulls over the crest and begins to hurtle towards the dip. It hits the kink in less than a second, wheels screeching against the wrenching twist of the metal and making the entire frame shake. A rusted axle snaps from the torsion, and the wheels lose their grip so that the car comes skidding from the tracks to plummet rapidly towards right where Dean is standing below.

There's barely time for Dean to blink as he sees the car topple from the rails, the piercing ring of breaking metal like a gunshot in his ears, and then he's throwing himself sideways out of its path. He hits the ground hard, arms shielding his head as he feels the force of the impact rumble through the earth beneath him. The sound of the car crumpling is like thunder, its outer shell bending, seats knocked loose as it rolls twice and then comes to a rest, upside-down, just yards from where Dean is lying on the floor.

A beat passes as the world once again goes silent. The eerie stillness almost seems shocked by the violence that had just disturbed it, the only sound remaining that of Dean's rapid breathing as he stares, wide-eyed, at the crumpled wreck of the car. Crushed into a ball and covered in dirt, he can still see the remains of yellow and black paint coating it shell. There's no way to stop the intruding thought of what it would have looked like had he not moved in time.

Shaking, Dean gets back to his feet and lets out a steady, controlled breath. He raises a hand to his chest, flattening his palm over his racing heart as he wills it to slow down. The sheer impossibility of the challenge he has to meet makes the knuckles of his other hand whiten.

Come on, calm down...

He can't think of Sam. Even though his brother is the whole reason for this situation, the thought of Sam in pain and bleeding out only makes Dean's heart want to gallop harder with anger and fear. He tries to block it out from his mind, instead focusing only on the physical sensation of his heart pounding in his chest and trying to get it under control. After about two minutes, Dean thinks – hopes – he's got it below 110 bpm again.

There's too much danger now for him to handle on his own. It's time to call in help.

Dean clears his throat and takes a breath. He glances around nervously, almost as if checking he's on his own, but he knows that whatever's out there is something he can't see. "Cas, you out there?" He suspects this is a long shot. He doesn't know if Cas is listening, or if his prayers will just go ignored like it's begun to seem, but this is for Sam. "Look, I get you're busy with your angel...whatever, and there's still shit going down in Heaven, but I need you. Sam's been taken. I don't know what's got him, but whatever it is, he's hurt, and he doesn't have much time. So...this is me asking for help." He lets that sentence hang, hoping Cas will understand the unspoken now and please he can't bring himself to vocalise.

A heartbeat passes, too heavy in Dean's chest, and he hates how he can't shut it off and lose awareness of it. There's no familiar wingbeats, a trenchcoat, or concerned blue eyes to greet him: just silence, stretching out too long and making his pounding blood seem louder in his ears. "Dammit!" Dean growls, his desperation rising like a wave to crash hard over what hope he's clinging onto. He's not going to be ignored.

His hand flies to the inner pocket of his jacket, fingers moving almost too fast to unlock his phone. Chances are Cas isn't even going to answer, and it makes Dean want to scream, but he has to try. There's just one lone, flickering bar of reception in the top right of the screen, but he's praying that it will be enough. Not that praying has helped thus far.

He hits 'dial' and holds the phone to his ear, feeling his heart skip when he hears the other end ring. It continues four times, somewhat muffled from the poor signal, but then it stops. There's a dull click, and for a heartbeat Dean hopes that's Cas picking up, but when he hears the voice that answers, something wrenches horribly inside him.

"Hello, Dean."

The words are familiar, but it's not the low, rough voice he'd been desperately needing to hear. It's the cold, sharp soprano of just minutes ago.

He freezes, every muscle in his body going tense as his mind kicks into overdrive. She chuckles, presumably hearing the way his heart's furiously begun to pound, and he silently curses it. "Really, Dean? Who said you could ask for help?"

Dean's throat feels tight, but he swallows and growls out a reply. "You never said I couldn't."

"But this is our game! It wouldn't be much fun if somebody else got in the way." Her sing-song mocking voice suddenly turns hard. "Don't try that again. You try to get help, you try to leave or get far enough away that I can't hear your heart anymore, then Sammy's stops. Game over. You understand?"

He does. And it terrifies him. "Yes."

"Good." The lines goes dead.

Dean's hands are shaking as he slowly lowers the phone from his ear and slips it back into his pocket. He gulps down a breath, feeling ready to just drop to his knees. His heart won't slow. Please let it slow. Please let it slow. Please... The mantra's running round his head so quickly it only seems to be forcing his heart to keep up.

There can only be a few seconds that pass as Dean feels he's frozen to the spot, but with his mind tripping over itself in desperation, he feels like he's wasting too much time. He shakes his head to clear it, trying to get a hold on himself and decide what to do. If he's on his own, then his only option seems to be to play along. If he can just get his heart to play on his side...

It's still racing when he picks up his feet to move again, but he figures if it's beating fast anyway, he may as well use it to start getting something done. He just needs to focus, take things one step at a time, and stay calm. So the first thing is to figure out where to begin looking for Sam.

He continues to walk through the overgrowth beneath the rollercoaster until he emerges onto a tarmac path again, following it gently downhill until he reaches a crossroads where, helpfully, there's an information board featuring a map of the park. It's not a solution, but it's a start, and he thinks his heartbeat calms a little for seeing it.

As he approaches, he scowls at the level of grime coating the plastic. He has to wipe some away with his sleeve before he can make out the key details, but considering the gravity of the situation, that bothers him less than it normally would.

The entrance to the park is in the south. The central area he appears to be standing in now bears the title, "Adventure Plaza," and apparently, the coaster that has almost just crushed him was named "The Wasp". Dean's glad he didn't get stung. In the north, the high ground at the far end of the park is aptly labelled "Thrillseeker Heights," a stylised depiction of The Flatliner bearing pride of place on the map. If Dean looks just beyond the board and to his right, he can still see the real thing rising up from the fog in the distance. Its shape almost seems to mock him now, taunting him with its depiction of a heartbeat losing control. Dean scowls and looks away again.

The Twilight Zone is in the southwest, while following it up takes him through the food court up to Splash Valley at the foot of the hill. In the east, Dean can see The Carnival leads through to Family Funland further north. His eyes are quickly drawn to the icon of a clown head that labels the Fun House, and a chill runs down his spine. He wonders if it's too obvious, if the creatures being used to advertise the Fun House would indeed have taken Sam there, but a quick glance over the map gives him no better idea of where to start. Dean draws a breath, grateful that at last he's no longer able to feel each heartbeat in his chest as he picks up his feet and begins to follow the path east.