Damaged

Chapter Sixty-Five: Famine

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The next morning arrived, and Sam was at the Medical clinic to check out another body, and Dean checked on the police station. Seeing if he could gather anything he could about more bodies. While they did their own things, I, of course, did mine. I got some books possibly on what could be happening in town, but everything I came across revealed nothing. Is this what it's like for the boys? Researching all the time, putting clues together to find the right monster?

The only thing that was nagging at my mind was my state of self yesterday. How, I was mentally drained, unhappy, and lacked the physical energy to do anything. I don't think I've ever felt like that before. Was it a one time thing? If I had a mental breakdown, I would have had one a while back.

I shook it from my mind, and stood up from the table inside the boy's motel room. Using it as the base of operation. I was wondering how Sam was getting along, I didn't discuss what Dean and I spoke of last night.

In a blink of an eye, I reformed in an alleyway, and I saw a man in a black suit run off, clutching his arm, before fading into view. Heavy breathing echoed in my ears, as Sam's shoulders rose and fell with his breathing. I was a few inches away. Something in Sam sensed someone was behind him, and he quickly reacted. He kicked his foot under me, and I didn't have time to react as I fell to the ground. He climbed on top, pushing me down with his free hand, and used his other to hold Ruby's knife against my neck.

"Sam! It's me!" I exclaimed, holding up my hands. In his eyes I could see the rage, and the bloodlust. Or the lust for demon-blood. He quickly snapped out of the trance he was in. His eyes widened.

"I'm sorry," he rushes out, pulling the knife away and standing back up. Sam extends his free hand out to me. I clasped our hands together, and he used his strength to pull me up. Once I was on my feet, I brushed down my clothes.

"No it's my fault, I shouldn't just appear behind you," my words were genuine, but Sam seemed a little distracted. His eyes flicked between the blood on the knife, and to somewhere else, anywhere else. "Are you ok?" I stepped closer, but his eyes shot to me, as he quickly nodded his head. I didn't think much about it, as my attention snapped to that of a black briefcase - which was radiating an energy that I've felt before.

"The Demon had it," Sam states as if he had read my mind. "No clue what's inside," Sam steps closer to me, as I crouch down and pluck the briefcase from the ground. It was light, and practically just had the weight of the case itself.

"Doesn't feel like it's got anything in it, but I do feel an energy inside," I told Sam, standing back up. With a single thought, black smoke swirled around us both in one big cloud. It swept up our view, and soon it flew back down and we were standing back in the motel room.

"Tell Dean to come straight here," I cast my head back to look at Sam, but it was brief, as I placed the briefcase onto the table, and laid it down. I crouch down, and notice the demonic symbols on each of the locks, and when I pressed the two in, it would not budge. I waved my hand over the briefcase, and I could now sense a protection spell, and only the right symbols and the right demon it was assigned to can open it. Lucky for me, I'm a quite powerful witch who can break the protection spell.

I turn around to face Sam - who was mid getting undressed. So, his white shirt unbuttoned and I could see his toned muscles through the slot.  I was kind of star-stuck, and my eyes couldn't peel away from his.

"Abigael?" Sam's voice rang through my ear, making me snap out of my gaze and cock my eyes up to meet his gaze.

"Erm. I-I," I literally could not form a word. "Give me an hour, I can unlock the case," I managed to make a full sentence. Quickly, turning on the spot, and faced the briefcase. I blockout sounds, as I focused on the briefcase. I hovered my hand over the black leather, and pointed my index finger down, and barely touched the top. I began to weave my finger over the top, as if I was drawing. A fiery trail followed the tip of my finger, etching into the briefcase top. I was drawing demonic symbols that could bypass the protection spell, and allow us entry with what was in.