Cursed Dawn [Supernatural Fanfiction)

"Concentrate, Concentrate"

A childlike voice spoke up in a sing-song tone.  "Wake up, Dean!  Let's play a game!"

Like a wind-up toy, Dean's head jerked up at the sound of her voice.  His mind swam in a pool of dizziness and everything in his body creaked and groaned at a deep, throbbing pain.  Grunting through clumps of blood, Dean peered through blurry eyes at a grey concrete wall and a piece of paper nailed in the centre.  Remembering what had last happened, Dean squeezed his eyes shut.  "Damn.  Did I write the letter?"

"Uh huh!"  the girl said cheerily as she bounced in front of him.  Her t-shirt still read Ellie.  "You did.  Because if you didn't, my daddy would have ripped you apart.  You did the right thing.  Now, do you want to play a game?"

"I'm not really in the mood, but thanks," Dean said in his usual sassy tone along with a weak wink.  He situated himself in the chair he was bound to and moaned at the shock of pain in his back.  "Where is Daddy-Long-Legs anyway?"

"He's upstairs preparing your insides for jars.  It takes him awhile, so, that's why I think we should play a game."  The girl blinked innocently and her small hands clasped around the collar of Dean's leather jacket.

"Listen, kid, if you were beaten down by an octopus like I've been, you wouldn't want to be playing paddy-cake with nobody.  So, why don't you get your tiny white ass upstairs, and leave me the hell alone!" 

The little girl coward away, her eyes wide with fear.  Shaking her head, she walked to the stairs and said under her voice, "Daddy doesn't like it when the older children scream at me."

"All right, all right!"  Dean called out to her as he saw her disappearing up the stairs.  "I'll play your little game!  Just promise me it won't hurt."

Before lifting up her back foot to step up the next step, the little girl spun around and raced down the stairs with uncontainable glee.  Clapping her hands together, she went up behind Dean and placed her hands on his shoulders.  "Now, you have to listen to me, okay?"

"Of course I will, Shirley," Dean said.

"Close your eyes."

Dean was hesitant, but obeyed.  Darkness came upon him and he felt the little girls hands beating on his back in a rhythmic manner.  Her voice flowed in his ears like a haunted melody.

"Concentrate, concentrate.  Concentrate on what I'm saying.  People are dying, children are crying.  Concentrate, concentrate.  Concentrate on what I'm saying."

"Hold up," Dean said, twisting around in his chair and holding up a hand.  "Do not say another word, you understand me?"

The little girl's face suddenly erased, looking like Slender Man's for a moment, before returning to her original look.   "I told you to concentrate on what I'm saying."

"Okay.  Sorry, I was just playing around."  Dean sunk back into his chair, almost paralysed at what he knew would be chanted over him.  He felt the girl's hands strike the top of his head and then brush down his arms, illustrating the words she was speaking.

"...crack an egg on your head and let the yolk run down.  Let the yolk run down.  Concentrate, concentrate..."

She proceeded with the childhood verses using verbal and physical motions to bring to life the feeling of an orange, needles, a knife, and, lastly, a noose.  On the last hypnotic imagery, the girl pretended to wrap a noose around Dean's neck by winding her hand around and around his head.  When she was done, she placed both her hands on his shoulders and leaned in towards his ear.  He was drenched in sweat by the time she was done.

"Okay, Dean, you're standing on a building.  Do you see it?  You're out on the ledge.  You're feeling very dizzy..."  At this line, she circled Dean's body from the waist up with her hands.  "And you're close to the edge.  And then...someone pushes you!"  With those final words, she gave Dean a harsh jolt, but not enough to fling him from the chair.  

Dean's eyes shot open and he stared through a tinted fog.  Once he regained his balance, he heard the girl's voice whisper in his ear with a devilish smile on her face.

"Now, what colour do you see?"

Knowing how the game worked, Dean shook his head.  "I'm not telling you."

"You better.  It's not going to change anything."

Snapping his head to the girl, he growled,  "I ain't saying nothing to you."

"Then maybe you'd like to tell my daddy.  I know what colour you saw.  And I know you're afraid to say it because you know what just happened was real.  Now, say it.  It's not like not saying it will save your life." The girl's thin brow popped up in an arch of self-assurance.  "Just say it, Dean."

Staring at the grey wall with the note he had scribbled out-- just like the words Slender Man had put on them first, Dean said through a weak voice, "Orange."

"Good boy.  Just like your Impala."  The girl's hands slipped off his shoulders and she tip-toed upstairs, humming a lullaby.