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Part Two
Sam shoots upright, sweating, and gasping for air.
It’s happened again – waking up unable to move or call out – unable to breathe and this time it had been much harder for him to come out of it.
It was terrifying, almost as frightening as the nightmare he had been having, but worse than that was the feeling that something was on top of him. For a moment, while was he was trapped in his own body and paralyzed, he thought he saw an indistinct mass of darkness like a shadow hovering over him, and he could have sworn he heard the indistinct sound of a someone humming. It’s gone now, but he can’t be sure if it had been real or just another figment of his mind or part of the nightmare he had been having – after all, he’s been seeing a lot of crazy crap lately.
And maybe that’s what scares him the most – that he’s still crazy. The dreams he had been having before he woke up had been … intense … to say the least, and what if Lucifer was still hanging around somewhere in his subconscious, just waiting for the right time to come back drive him right over the edge and back into insanity?
He shivers as the sweat on his body evaporates. He’s still so damned tired, like heavy weights have been tied to limbs and he’s been dragging them around for years. Even though he’s been sleeping for almost three days straight, he feels like he could keep sleeping continuously for the next week.
But, Sam’s mind is working in overtime and no matter how exhausted his body is, he can’t let himself fall asleep again until he has some answers. He pushes himself out of bed and drags his body toward his duffel bag, pulling out the laptop.
The first thing he searches for once he’s online are the symptoms he’s been experiencing and he types in ‘waking up, unable to move’ into Google. Almost automatically, a page returns that gives him an answer and he reads that what he’s experienced is something called sleep paralysis and the further he researches, the more relaxed he feels.
It turns out that this sort of thing is actually pretty common and normal and it’s only the mind waking up from R.E.M. sleep before the body has had a chance to come out of the muscle paralysis it puts itself into to keep the limbs from thrashing about as the mind dreams. Even though it’s never happened to him until the last couple of nights, he learns that it’s thought to be caused by stress and sleep deprivation – both of which he can say with absolute certainty he’s experienced lately.
He even reads how many people sometimes have hallucinations during their paralysis and seeing people in the room with them or feeling a malevolent presence is not uncommon. That little added bit of info leaves him relieved that he’s not going insane again (for once).
Sam’s vision is blurring while he reads from the soft glow of the computer screen and he rubs his eyes wearily. He realizes then that he’s been reading the same paragraph over and over for the last ten minutes, so he shuts down his computer, satisfied that he has a name for what’s been happening to him. He rationalizes his experience and tells himself that it’s probably caused by his recently whacked out sleep schedule and that going without sleep for so long had screwed up his body in more ways than one. This sleep paralysis thing must be just another consequence of it all and when he is back to sleeping regularly, it should go away.
Even though he’s still a little scared that the whole sleep paralysis thing will happen again after he falls asleep this time, he’s too tired and exhausted to fight off his exhaustion any longer and he’s back in his bed, shutting his eyes moments later.
A soft melody hums in his head and it draws him in, promising a peaceful rest, but there is little he can do to stop the nightmares lurking in the corners of his mind from coming to the surface and dragging him under.
Flames begin to rise and somewhere in the distance, Lucifer laughs …
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He’s waking up too much and it’s getting harder to get him to fall asleep and stay there, she realizes.
She has to get him to slip into his dreams deeper so she can truly taste the intensity of his fear on grab on to the meaty, juicy parts of his subconscious, but his will is strong and it is a struggle to keep him there. It’s there that she finds a vast wealth of pain and horror and she sees the tortures he’s endured and it is all so delicious that she wants – no, needs more.
She presses herself into him, digging in, and feasting. Perhaps she is going too fast, draining him too quickly and at this rate he might not last more than another night or two, but she can’t resist gorging herself – the emotions he gives her are sweeter than ambrosia and she too intoxicated by it all to give any of it up.
She has to take him deeper and keep him there – she can’t risk letting him go.
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Dean groans and curses himself for forgetting that he had set the alarm on his cell for such a freakin’ early hour. He rolls onto his side and looks across the dark valley between the beds and sees that Sam is still deeply asleep and his alarm hasn’t caused him to so much as twitch.
Looking at his phone with blurry eyes, he reads that it’s only 5 a.m. and despite the pounding headache that his evening with Jack Daniels has given him, he gives up on sleeping since his bladder won’t allow him to lie in bed much longer. He drags his legs out from under the covers and heads to the bathroom to take care of his business.
Along the way, he smacks at Sam’s feet to try and rouse his brother, but Sam doesn’t stir. Dean doesn’t think too much about it – Sam’s been sleeping like it was going outta style and he’ll try again after he’s had a shower and scrubbed out some of the fuzzy cotton balls stuffed in his head.
Thirty minutes later, Dean emerges from the steamy bathroom, clean, shaven, and hungry. Thanks to the shower, his hangover has subsided, but now he’s so hungry he could even eat at one of those healthy, granola munching, organic joints that Sam likes.
But first he still needs to get his brother out of bed.
“C’mon, Sammy!” He raises his voice while pulling the blankets off of his brother, “’nuff sleepin’, time for some eatin’.”
Dean pulls on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but Sam is still asleep and doesn’t seem to care that his brother is literally starving to death, “Sam! C’mon I’m hungry; get your ass out of bed!”
None too gently, Dean kicks the mattress of Sam’s bed, but his little brother still doesn’t make any signs of waking up. Dean is getting really annoyed as Sam ignores him and he moves to take his shoulders, shaking him.
But now that he’s closer to him, he sees just how pale and grey he is and when Dean touches his skin, it’s cold as an ice cube.
“Sammy?!” Dean’s growing more frantic as he pats Sam about the face and is not above shouting his brother’s name. “Wake up, Sam!”
Sam still won’t open his eyes and Dean slides two fingers against the side of his throat, feeling for his brother’s pulse. His heart is pounding furiously against his fingertips, but Sam is unresponsive to the point where Dean’s panic switch has been thrown into high gear, “Sammy, please … you gotta wake up, man … c’mon!” Dean begs.
A low moan issues from deep inside Sam’s chest, “That’s it … open your eyes, Sam!” Dean encourages as Sam’s eyelids flutter then suddenly fly open as wide as saucers.
Dean’s relieved to see his brother’s eyes, but it’s short-lived as Sam just lies there on the bed and stares at something over Dean’s shoulder with terror in his eyes.
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“Don’t go, Sammy. The fun was only starting …”
Laughter fills his ears as the flames rise, but something is pulling him out, dragging his charred limbs from the fire.
“Sammy, please … you gotta wake up, man … c’mon!” Sam can hear Dean’s pleas and his mind snaps from one nightmare and straight into another.
He tries to move, to open his eyes and let Dean know that he’s awake, but nothing will respond to the will of his panicking mind. He pushes muscles that won’t respond all while trying to suppress the terror building in his throat at being fully conscious, but unable to move a muscle. The best he can do is make a pitiful, strangled noise in his throat.
Sam pushes against the fear -- he just needs to calm down and focus so he can awake himself up the rest of the way. He forces his brain to work on opening his eyes and he manages to blink a couple of times and keep them open, but as soon as he can see, fear has him in its crushing grip again. Dean’s face is above him, worried and scared, but just behind his brother is a dark mass that swirls until it forms a semi-coherent shape and the outline of a face.
He still can’t speak or move his muscles -- all he can do is dart his eyes towards the creature behind Dean and hope that that would be enough to warn his brother to the danger behind him.
Dean cups Sam’s face, “Hey, Sammy ... look at me, you’re okay.”
Sam doesn’t turn his eyes from the creature.
C’mon, Dean … look the hell behind you! He wants to yell, but unfortunately, Dean doesn’t comprehend what Sam is trying to do before it’s too late and he turns his head just in time for the creature to strike.
Something that looks to Sam like an arm grabs Dean around the neck and pulls him forcefully away from Sam until his brother is flying backward into the far wall, hitting it hard enough to crack the plaster before he falls boneless to the floor.
Sam can only scream Dean’s name in his head.
Unable to move or fight back, there isn’t a thing Sam can do to escape from the creature as it advances towards him and extends a shadowy hand. It reaches for him and he feels heat and warmth envelop him as it starts to hum that same nameless tune he’s been hearing in his sleep for days. He tries to fight back with his mind, attempting to push the creature out of his head and silence the music, but the song it too loud and it floods every corner in his brain, leaving him no place to hide and consuming every ounce of fear while stealing his thoughts.
He can’t fight back and darkness quickly pulls him under and flames once again begin to lick at his flesh.
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Every inch of his body hurts as Dean pulls himself out of the inky blackness crowding his head and opens his eyes. The world tilts on its axis and he has to fight the urge to vomit, but he has only one thing on his mind and nausea isn’t going to stop him from saving his little brother.
Dean didn’t get a good look at whatever it was that attacked him, but he knew it was strong, evil, and after Sam.
With a grunt and a burst of energy fueled by his fear for his little brother, Dean thrusts himself to his feet while Sam remains on the bed in the exact same position he was before. Whatever attacked him is nowhere to be seen, but Dean knows better than to think the creature is gone.
Dean follows his first instinct and makes a beeline for Sam, but he only gets one foot forward before a swirling, black, shadowy mass appears, taking the shape of half-formed creature made of smoke that Dean can’t completely make out. It turns its head at him, snarls and hisses a warning while red, glowing eyes glare at him angrily. It turns back to Sam, straddling his chest then places claw-like hands on both of his temples and throws it head up as if in rapture before it promptly disappears.
Sam’s back arches off the bed and he makes low, pained noises that cut Dean down to the quick.
“Sonovabitch.” Dean growls low in his throat and if that thing thinks he was angry before, it’s got another thing coming. Dean charges again and again, he can’t get to Sam without the thing whirling on him and attacking, but he knows there has to be some way to get it away from his brother.
He makes a break for it, dashing across the room for his bag and pulling out his shotgun. It’s already loaded with salt rounds and he can only hope that that will be enough to make the thing release Sam and if getting close to his brother makes the creature materialize, then he has a good chance of making the shot without hitting Sam too.
Aiming the shot gun just above his brother where he last saw the thing, Dean comes towards the bed quickly. The creature appears again, its smoke-like body quivering as soon Dean starts to move and it begins growling and snapping its sharp fangs, but it won’t release its hold on Sam.
Dean’s always been a crack shot and this time is no different as he pulls the trigger and blasts salt pellets into the black mass. The creature screams as it becomes more solid, but it doesn’t back off of Sam’s chest. Dean quickly pumps the shot gun for another round and shoots again. This time when the salt hits the thing it yowls with an ear-piercing wail as its body bursts into a puff of dark smoke. The black cloud hovers in the air over Sam for a moment as if deciding whether or not it was worth trying to go after him again, but before Dean can load another shot, it flies up to the ceiling and disappears.
Dean doesn’t waste a moment after it’s gone and he runs to Sam’s side, grabbing his shoulders and trying to wake his brother.
“Sam! … Sammy!” He shouts and it is then that Dean realizes that he can’t feel any air coming from Sam’s lips and he’s not making any attempt to breathe.
Sam’s skin is so pale that it’s practically translucent and his lips are turning a frightening shade of blue. Dean frantically begins to slap Sam’s face while simultaneously pounding in his chest, hoping that Sam’s lungs will take the hint and start working again.
Sam’s cold to the touch, and Dean is seconds away from performing rescue breathing on his brother when Sam’s muscles suddenly jerk in response to Dean’s hands and he shoots upright, gasping for air. Darting his eyes around wildly, Sam’s fingers tangle into Dean’s shirt and he’s shaking so hard that Dean wraps his arms around his brother to keep him steady.
“Dean!” Sam wheezes, panic making his voice shrill, “God – I couldn’t wake up … I couldn’t … I couldn’t move!”
“I know … you’re okay now, Sammy … you’re okay.”
Sam swallows, trying to catch his breath and his hands grip Dean’s shirt even tighter, “Is it gone?”
“I hit it with salt, but I don’t think I killed it – it took off, which is what I think we should do before it comes back.”
“I don’t think that’ll do any good, Dean – I think it’s been following us – I don’t think this is the first time it’s come at me while I was asleep.”
“What?” Dean was floored, “This thing attacked before and you didn’t say anything? What the fuck, Sam?”
Sam shook his head and pushed himself away from Dean, “I thought it was something else – guess I was wrong.”
“Gee – ya think?” Dean is on his feet and pulling Sam up along with him, grabbing things and shoving them in bags as he moves across the room, “C’mon. We’re outta here before that thing either comes back or the cops come to arrest us for shooting up the room.”
Minutes later, Dean has Sam shoved into the passenger seat of the car and all of their stuff dumped in the trunk and he’s pulling out of the parking lot of the motel, tires squealing, and the smell of burning rubber chasing after them.
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Dean’s pissed.
Really, it’s nothing new – he’s pissed a lot these days what with Leviathans after them and Dean’s burning need for vengeance against Dick Roman for what he did to Bobby, but Sam knows his brother and this is a different kind of pissed – this is Dean pretending to be pissed when he’s actually scared out of his mind.
Sam himself can’t help but admit that he’s pretty scared too. Something’s been coming at him while he sleeps and while that’s frightening enough by itself, it’s the lingering memory of his nightmares of hell, of waking up and not being able to move, breathe, or fight that really makes him shudder.
And on top of it all, he’s feeling more exhausted and thinly worn than even those last few days in the mental ward with Lucifer keeping him from sleep. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open even though he knows that falling asleep might attract that creature to him again, but staying alert is becoming nearly impossible and it’s like he’s been drained of all of his energy and all he wants – all his body is begging for -- is more sleep.
Dean catches Sam’s eyes drooping and he shakes his shoulder while keeping his other hand on the wheel, “Hey! No sleeping, Sam – for all we know that thing is just waiting for you to start sawing some logs, so until we know how to kill this bitch for good, you gotta stay awake.”
Sam rubs his eyes, then yawns and stretches, “I know – I can’t help it. It’s like trying to fight off sleep during a boring lecture – Like the harder I try to stay awake, the more difficult it is to keep my eyes open.”
“Tell you what – “ Dean offers sympathetically, “let’s get us some coffee and food and start working on finding out just what the hell this thing is and what we can do to stop it, okay?”
Sam nods his head wearily, “Coffee definitely – maybe some No-Doze and a case of Red Bulls too.”
Dean drives them to the nearest diner and they both order lunch. As they eat, Sam pulls out his laptop and starts to research while drinking as much coffee as their waitress can pour.
“You said this happened before?” Dean asks, still sounding a little pissed at him, as if Sam had deliberately deceived him.
“Not like that. I mean … I woke up a couple of times and for a few seconds I couldn’t move or call out or anything and it kinda freaked me out, so I looked it up online and I found a condition called sleep paralysis that matched what was happening to me. I figured it was just a physiological response to being sleep deprived. I didn’t think there was anything supernatural to it and I was so tired, I didn’t really do any further research.”
“Well … whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t anything natural – it threw me across the room like a ragdoll and it looked like it was trying to suck the life outta ya.”
“Kinda like a striga or a succubus.” Sam mused as he typed in a few search terms and tried to focus on the screen, “Maybe it’s feeding on me while I sleep.”
“Yeah, but striga’s go after kids and succubi … well … they’re just in it for the sex, right?”
Sam nods tiredly, bringing up new pages from the internet and sighing at the overwhelming amount of information before him. He can’t believe that he had failed to dig deeper into all of this before and he’s feeling pretty stupid now for not even looking into a supernatural cause for his sleep disturbances, “I know … I’m gonna keep looking, but there’s a ton of folklore from just about every culture in the world that ties into the sleep paralysis phenomenon – some cultures believe it’s caused by a demons, while others say it’s caused by a wraith, ghost, or an old hag …“ Sam rubs his temples where he can feel a headache starting to blossom. He’s still feeling worn out and sleepy, but the coffee seems to be helping and he can at least keep his eyes open while he researches.
Sam sighs, yawns then pinches the bridge of his nose as the headache grows and tries to worm its way through his skull.
“You should eat something, “Dean suggests, “Maybe that’ll help wake you up.”
Sam looks at the oatmeal he ordered which has now gone cold and he’s less than enthused to eat it, but he takes a couple of bites just so Dean won’t keep riding him about not eating. Dean digs into his own plate of eggs and bacon as Sam goes back to searching the internet for information and asks for more coffee.
They sit at the booth for the next hour, getting nastier and nastier looks from the waitress who is clearly upset about not being able to fill their table with other customers until Dean flirts with her shamelessly and her attitude perks up enough that she’s refilling their cups every time she passes their table.
Sam’s halfway through his tenth cup of coffee and torn between doing more research and going to the restroom when something on the screen pops out at him and grabs his attention, “Whoa … I think I found something …”
“What?” Dean asks.
“Well … According to Persian folklore, people that have had an encounter with Shaitan will sometimes draw the attention of a bakhtak – a kind of ghoul or old hag that sits on people’s chest as they sleep and feasts on a person’s life-force and the fear brought on by nightmares.”
“I’ve never heard of that. And what the hell is Shay tahn?”
“Hell is right, Dean --” Sam points out while avoiding his brother’s eyes. “Shaitan is the Arabic word for Satan …”
“Oh.” Dean replies quietly.
“Actually, it could also mean any kind of devil or demon from hell,” Sam explains while grabbing his napkin and twisting it in his hand until it starts to fall apart. He snorts humorlessly, “but I guess being Lucifer’s meat puppet and spending as much quality time with him as I have would probably make me an irresistible snack to this thing.”
Dean offers Sam a sympathetic look, “At least we know what it is now. Does it say in there how to kill it?”
“So far no, but there’s got to be something somewhere that does … I just need to do more research.” Sam yawns loudly and stretches his arms over his head, his muscles sore and crying out for rest.
“In that case, “Dean lifted up his cup and signaled their waitress with a smirk, “I’ll order us more coffee.”Nessun Dorma, Part 3
