The Witching Hour

”Did Lisa send you?”

Sam’s head snapped up, out of the fog. He found himself standing center stage, the lights glowing orange around him. The edges of the auditorium he’d wound up in were blurry and unimportant; instead, he sought out the owner of the voice.

Slowly he turned, forcing his heavy legs to shift so he could search. The stage was empty, but he knew he wasn’t alone. Dozens of eyes watched him from the shadows he ignored, and murmuring voices hummed quietly.

A heavy spike of fear shot through his chest, and he spun to face the opposite direction. A set of stairs hidden behind a shadowed doorway sent shivers through him. Something about them wasn’t right. And as he stared, a shadow began to ascend. The sounds of footsteps on metal echoed around the stage, and with them rose a tall, shadowed man.

Every instinct in Sam’s body told him to run. Sheer terror coursed through him, and he desperately tried to run. But his legs were stuck on the stage now, and the figure had reached the top of the stairs. He stood, silhouetted in the door frame, and as he turned his gaze on same, pure red eyes glinted.

The figure began to move forward, and Sam began to panic even more. And as he struggled to run, he caught motion from the corner of his eye. To his horror, the shadows had come alive. Dozens of figures with glinting eyes began to stalk towards him, the murmuring growing louder and louder.

Sam gave a desperate jerk backwards, and at once his feet were freed. He fell hard onto the stage, and the moment he hit the ground, the orange lights snapped off. He let out a strangled cry of raw fear, and he scrambled to sit up. As he righted himself, a hand grabbed his shoulder, and a dim flashlight snapped on.

A woman’s face was inches from his, and all he could see were a few wisps of brunette hair, and her wide, silver eyes. Fear and distress lit her stare, and put Sam on edge even more. He went to speak, but the girl gave a shake of her head and then looked over her shoulder. Another figure knelt down beside her; another girl, with curled darker hair and brilliant orange eyes.

“Three to a dollar,” she hissed. The silver-eyed girl looked back at him, but the panic was gone from her face. The rest of the world began to fade; the voices dimmed and the shadows wisped away. The silver-eyed girl furrowed her brow in confusion as she stared at Sam.

“Did Lisa send you?” she accused, and then she faded too.


The ring of Dean’s phone sent Sam bolting upright; he sucked in a startled breath and nearly flew off the mattress. Dean, who was scrambling to answer the call, gave his brother a puzzled frown and put the phone to his ear.

“This is Dean,” he mumbled, dropping back onto the pillows. Sam let out a shaky breath as he forced himself to calm down. Something told him the haunting dream hadn’t been simply a figment of his imagination. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and dropped his head into his clammy hands. When he shut his eyes, the girl’s silver gaze immediately pulled to the front of his mind.

As he forced himself to take deep breaths, his brother’s conversation filtered into his mind.

“My dad told you to call?” he asked, his eyes flicking to Sam instinctively. “No, I’m listening. You said it was Satan?”
At that, Sam lifted his head and frowned at Dean, who was listening intently. Dean nodded to himself several times, and after nearly two minutes of silence, he scrambled out of bed.

“Yeah, yeah, give me the address,” he asked, fumbling for a pen. He scribbled down a line and then motioned for Sam to get up. “Right, okay. We’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. Alright, thanks Lisa.”

Sam’s legs nearly gave out as he stood up. As Dean tucked the phone away, he turned to meet Sam’s disbelieving terrified stare. He gave his brother a frown.

“What on earth is going on with you today?” he asked, and Sam stumbled forward.

“Did you just say ‘Lisa’?”

“Uh, yeah-“

“What did she want?”

“Dad referred her to us, something about demonic possession and Satan’s little workers,” Dean said, taking a step back from his brother. “What’s going on? Do you know her?”

Sam let out a sigh and tried to calm himself just a bit.

“I had a dream,” he said, lowering his voice subconsciously. “A crazy, creepy dream that started and ended with a girl asking me if Lisa sent me.”

Dean raised his brows, curious, and Sam nodded.

“Exactly.”

Dean let out a breath, weighing the risks. They could pass up the opportunity to deal with demons; they could leave it behind, because this was obviously a trap. But at the same time, dad had sent this case to them. He and Sam shared one deciding look, and Dean let out a heavy sigh. He clapped his brother on the back and shook his head.

“Well, Sammy, let’s go find out what this demon wants from us, eh?”