Supernatural: Night Terror Read Online Free PDF Page A

sprawled on his bed as if sleep had been an afterthought, Sam mumbled something about hunters.
    Dean stacked pillows against his headboard and laid back gingerly, enduring sharp protests from his ribs with each awkward movement. Felt as if he’d been kicked repeatedly by a mule with a sour disposition. Bedside clock radio told him he’d been asleep less than an hour. He’d need at least a few more before they hit the road. Coffee would take care of the rest.
    “But no more dreams.”

TWO

    Sam Winchester stood in the root cellar again.
    The underground storage room was empty. No shelves or mason jars or plastic containers. Even the Machete Mime’s corpse and the pitchfork that had killed him were gone. No evidence of the all-consuming fire.
    He stood at the bottom of the wooden stairs, moonlight spilling across the floor on either side of him, but not reaching far enough to penetrate the darkness that shrouded the back of the room. And though the room seemed empty, Sam was not alone. A shape of equal height and mass stood within the shadows staring back at him.
    “What do you want?” Sam asked.
    “To replace you.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I’m better at it than you are.”
    Sam wanted to step forward, to reach into the darkness, but he was paralyzed where he stood, as if balanced on a precipice. One false step and he could fall; maybe never stop falling. He was close to something dangerous here. Had to be careful. He’d lost his way before. How many times could he go astray before it became impossible to find his way back to... himself?
    The other took a step forward, emerging from the shadows. Like looking in a mirror, Sam stared at another version of himself. Sam without a soul. And that Sam was smirking at him.
    “Your soul is a burden. It makes you weak.”
    “You were out of control. You tried to kill Bobby to save yourself.”
    “Self-preservation is an admirable trait in a hunter.” Soulless Sam walked around him in a loose circle while Sam struggled to move his legs. He was pinned to the spot.
    “You were no different from the monsters you hunted.”
    “Keep telling yourself that, Sammy,” he said. “We both know I was the more effective hunter.”
    “Doesn’t matter,” Sam said. “You’re done.”
    “Am I?” Soulless Sam asked. “Or... could be that soul of yours is a poor fit these days. Damaged goods. Might not stick around for the long haul. One little push —” Soulless Sam poked him in the chest with a forefinger and Sam staggered back a step before regaining his balance—“and poof ! I’m back in the driver’s seat.”
    “No,” Sam said. “That’s not gonna happen.”
    “You’d be surprised,” Soulless Sam said. “You’re not free of me. Never will be. I’m still in there, itching to get out.”
    “No!”
    Sam was frozen to the spot while Soulless Sam had complete freedom of movement. He walked behind Sam and paused at the staircase. Sam twisted his head around to keep Soulless Sam in view.
    “Not as safe as you think you are.”
    Soulless Sam climbed the creaking stairs. Before he disappeared into the night, he turned back and shook his head.
    “Better watch your step, Sammy.”
    With a sense of impending doom, Sam looked around the dark root cellar. Soulless Sam’s parting words had been a warning, no mistaking that but what—
    Through the soles of his feet, he felt vibrations, as if the ground was pulsing. And with that chthonic disturbance, he regained control of his feet. But the moment he shifted his position, the cellar floor began to sink from the center outward, the concrete crumbling to the consistency of gravel—or sand. Even the walls began to slide down, funneling into the widening hole. Sam leapt toward the wooden staircase, falling forward to grab the bottom step with his hands. The ground fell away so quickly it offered him no support. He pulled himself up the stairs far enough to get his knees, and then his feet under him. But without the floor