Fic: Crossover: Supernatural: Silent Hill: Dean and Cas (5/?)
Title: Supernatural: Silent Hill
Author: nicole9514
Rating: R
Chapters: 5/? (probably about 15)
Warnings: gore, blood, disturbing imagery, violence, language
Genre: Crossover/a bit AU
Spoilers: season five supernatural, Silent Hill film, and Silent Hill 1 and 2 video games.
Characters: Focus on Dean and Castiel friendship or pre-slash depending on your preference, but some Sam and Bobby as well.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Silent Hill, I'm only playing with them.
A/N: I blatantly steal elements/scenarios from the Silent Hill film, and Silent Hill 1 and 2 video games, but I've also created some of my own/expanded upon elements to create an insane trip to Silent Hill tailor made for Dean and Cas, hence the AU part of this fic. <
Special Thanks: to my beta skylar_matthews
Summary: Dean and Cas get trapped in Silent Hill. Sam and Bobby are on the outside trying to find them - will they find a way out...
Word Count:2542 (total 22,435 so far)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Sam bent down, his fingers tracing a path over the skid marks. He was almost positive they were the Impala’s.
He and Bobby had found the road leading up to Silent Hill. They’d followed it until they’d come upon an old, rusty bridge. Bobby had noticed the black marks that marred the pavement. They’d stopped to investigate.
Sam clenched his teeth; the marks looked fresh. The dent on the railing with a streak of black paint on it was also fresh. The only thing missing was the car and its two passengers.
There was no way they’d gone over the side; the bridge was still intact. Sam stood up and peered over the edge anyway.
Nothing.
“Maybe the car wasn‘t severely damaged, and they decided to go on ahead without us,” Bobby hollered from the van. His tone suggested he doubted this was the case.
Sam turned and said with absolute certainty, “Dean would have called.”
Bobby blew out a puff of air. “Yeah. He would have.”
A few moments of silence passed before Bobby added, “someone could have found them.”
That‘s exactly what I‘m afraid of.
“They could have called an ambulance, took them to the hospital, and had the car towed,” Bobby continued while reaching for his cell phone. “I’ll call any hospitals in the area.”
Sam doubted there would be very many. He also doubted Dean or Cas would be there. Cas would have did his thing, transporting them both back to the archives to meet them.
Something else was going on here.
Sam glanced back at the site of the accident, then at the road ahead of them.
He could hear Bobby talking in the background.
Sam headed back to the van, hopped in, and fired up the engine.
It was time to pay Silent Hill a visit.
*****
Dean sucked in a breath and softly walked up behind Cas who was bent over, looking down into the abyss. He felt like he was moving in slow motion; his blood pumped faster with each step. His breathing sounded too loud in the dead silence that surrounded them.
Dean had seen a lot in his life. Monsters, witches, demons, shape shifters, vampires, hell, even talking teddy bears, but those had all been things he could kill. This he didn’t know how to fight, and it terrified him.
When Dean reached the edge he knelt beside Cas, who seemed frozen in place.
Dean looked down - big mistake. His stomach dropped to his knees, his heart lurched, and he had to sit back on his ass to avoid a potentially life threatening fall into oblivion. This place was really screwing with his tough guy image.
Cas reached out and grabbed his arm. “Careful.”
“No shit,” Dean snapped burying his fear with anger. “Where the fuck are we?”
Cas’s eyes drifted back to the bottomless pit of fog and death. “I‘m not sure.”
“You’re a freaking angel for Christ’s sake, Cas! You have to know something.” Dean fingers clenched the shotgun, his muscles tensed, his words came out harsh and cutting.
Cas’s head jerked back towards him. “I’m not omnipotent, Dean. I don’t know everything,” Cas fired back, his eyes narrowed, his face still a bit too pale.
Dean took a deep breath; he needed to get a grip. This wasn’t Cas’s fault. It was his. He’d brought them here and he’d crashed the car. Cas had only come along to help him. Fear and anger were a bad combination and they made Dean a real ass sometimes, and he knew it.
“You’re right, this is just,” Dean checked his gun, “weird even for us.”
Cas nodded, his eyes softened. “I know.” Cas stood up and backed away from the ledge. He offered Dean his hand.
Dean took it.
“I think this,” Cas gestured towards the nothingness, “may explain the strange energy and my angelic…,” his voice trailed off as he searched for the right word.
“Impotence,” Dean suggested, his eyebrows waggling.
Cas glared. “Interference,” he said pointedly. “Wherever we are - we’ve been cut off from the outside world. I don’t understand it or know how it’s possible, but I don‘t believe this happened by chance. Something trapped us here. I‘ve felt its presence.” Cas sighed. “That’s all I’ve got.”
Yeah and used my dad as bait. “It’s a start,” Dean tried to sound optimistic.
Cas shrugged, his eyes weary.
Dean looked back the way they’d come from. “I guess there’s only one option. We’re going to have to pay a visit to Silent Hill and find out who‘s party this is.”
“It looks that way.” Cas didn’t look any happier about it than Dean felt.
“After you.” Dean smiled and pointed his gun in the direction they needed to head.
****
When the Impala came into view, goose bumps erupted on Dean’s flesh. The car doors were both wide open; he knew they’d closed them.
He shared a “what now?” look with Cas as they slowly approached the car. Dean had his finger on the trigger, and his body on high alert. Eyes, ears, even his nose searched for danger.
Dean took another step; the sound of something squelching under foot made him flinch. He looked down, under his boot was a dead bug. A really big, ugly, black one that reminded him of a cross between a cockroach and a crab. He lifted his foot; a thin string of yellow guts dangled from his sole. He rubbed his shoe against the ground, wiping most of the gunk onto the pavement.
“That’s just wrong.” Dean hissed, part disgusted, part fascinated. He’d never seen anything like it.
“Let’s just be glad it’s dead.” Cas was glaring at it like he expected it to jump up and start eating his face off any second.
Dean didn’t blame him; the thing gave him a major case of the heebie-jeebies as well.
“Yeah, I’m just hoping we don’t meet the rest of his family further down the road.” Dean shuddered. Freaking bugs.
Cas stepped forward, his eyes a bit wider, and leaned into the passenger seat door. He pulled back moments later holding a large piece of red paper in his hands. He didn’t look happy.
“What is that?” Dean asked not waiting for an answer as he yanked it from Cas’s fingers.
The paper was thicker than normal, more cardboard than loose leaf.
On it was a drawing.
Dean’s stomach twisted into a pretzel.
“I gotta hand it to whoever drew this, they’ve got real talent,” Dean managed to keep his voice carefree while his heart raced and his lungs tightened.
“I can think of other words to describe whoever made that,” Cas said, his tone and expression both menacing.
With only a black crayon, someone had drawn his father burning alive with incredible detail. His eyes were wide and full of agony; begging for release. The flames had left his flesh charred and blistered. His mouth was open wide; Dean swore he could almost hear the screams.
Dean swallowed back bile. He knew this image would be seared into his brain for the rest of his life. Considering, both he and his father had spent time in hell, it hit all too close to home.
His eyes drifted to the bottom of the paper; there was a message scrawled in jagged handwriting along its edge.
Come play with us.
A small picture of a school house was drawn in the lower right hand corner.
“That’s not creepy.” Dean plastered a grin on his face, trying to ignore the trickle of sweat running down his back.
“Dean,” Cas’s voice was full of concern. “I know this is har-”
“Don’t get sappy on me, Cas. I’m fine.” His grin never wavered. “I’ll be even more fine once I find the sick fuck who’s playing games with us and blow a hole though their head,” Dean finished, widening his forced smile.
Cas didn’t look like he was buying it, but he didn’t press. The angel stepped closer, avoiding the insect carcass, and invaded Dean’s personal space. Before he could remind his friend about the territorial bubble all humans liked to have respected, Cas snatched the drawing back and started examining it more closely. His blue eyes were intense and searching.
“You find Elvis in there, make sure and let me know,” Dean quipped.
Cas pursed his lips, then brought the paper to his nose, sniffing it. “It smells like blood.”
Dean leaned in, taking a whiff of his own. Cas was right. A metallic aroma flooded his nostrils. That meant it had to be fresh, when blood got old, it smelled more like rotten meat.
The red color of the paper suddenly seemed a lot more ominous than it had before.
“Maybe they ran out of fancy invitations and had to improvise,” Dean said, meeting Cas’s piercing blue stare.
“You know this is a trap,” Cas said ignoring his attempt at humor, his tone matter of fact.
“Yep. I do.” Dean took the paper, folded it up, then shoved it into his back pocket.
Cas stayed silent.
Dean sighed. “Look, I don’t know if whatever this is has my dad. What I do know is that we’re trapped here. This is the only lead we have to get some type of answers. I’m going to find this towns school and introduce myself to the ring master.” Dean clenched his teeth, then reached out and rested a hand briefly on Cas’s shoulder. “Whatever this is, it seems to be luring me somewhere. You don’t have to come along. This is my problem, not yours.”
Cas tensed. “I’m going, Dean,” his voice was soft, but dangerous.
Dean didn’t reply - his skin had broken out in a cold sweat. He had that tingle he got at the base of his spine when something was watching him.
Dean looked around, straining to see through the ocean of fog.
Dean’s cell phone started buzzing, it was eerily similar to the noise his radio had made. Dean fumbled with the off button, naturally, it didn‘t work.
His pulse quickened and his breathing became more rapid.
“You see anything?” Dean asked Cas.
Cas wasn’t listening, he was staring over Dean’s shoulder, his blue eyes wary.
Dean spun; he peered into the swirling, whiteness. A flicker of movement before the fog swallowed it up again.
Footsteps.
Heavy, uneven.
Dean wished his phone would shut the hell up. The constant horror film background music was making him twitchy.
Whatever it was got closer, the jerky steps got louder, more insistent.
His phone reached ear drum shattering levels of annoyance as it quivered in his pocket.
Dean took a step forward; Cas mirrored him.
Dean could make out the silhouette of something human height. It was shambling towards them, for a brief moment Dean wondered if it was someone on a bender. It moved with the gait of a person who‘d had more than their share of alcohol.
It got closer.
Dean finally got a good look.
The humanoid thing walked upright. Its bare feet slapped against the concrete. Grey skin across its chest and torso twitched and throbbed; it had no arms. Dean got the impression its missing appendages were enclosed inside its own flesh. He swore it was trying to tear them free as it writhed, leaving a trail of something thick and black wherever it stepped. When the substance hit the ground it popped and sizzled, sending bursts of smoke into the air.
Most disturbing of all was the lack of a face. It had the outline of a head, but nothing else. What kind of an abomination had no eyes?
He was used to meeting his enemies gaze. Sizing them up.
He was not used to being almost paralyzed by fear.
If he hadn’t been hardened by years of hunting horrific creatures and his time spent in hell - he’d have probably pissed himself.
“Dean,” Cas’s shaken voice was the equivalent of a bucket of ice water down his back.
Dean blinked, shoved down his fear, lifted his gun, aimed and snarled, “Stop right there ugly?”
The only response was more of that viscous tar-like material dripping onto the pavement. Dean realized it was coming from a hole in the center of this creatures chest.
“Fuck this,” Dean growled, his finger started to pull back the trigger.
Black tar sprayed from the thing, coming straight for the hunter. Dean spun and managed to cover his head with his arms. The shit rained down, splattered against his back and arms.
He heard the sound of the 9 mm blasting away.
Dean didn’t have time to see how Cas was fairing because he was burning alive. That crap was eating through his leather jacket like it was made of mesh. Dean dropped his shotgun, tore his jacket off, flinging it to the ground. He could smell the burning fabric as he frantically checked himself for anymore of that crap.
“Let me do it,” Cas’s strained voice grabbed Dean’s attention.
Cas grabbed his shoulders, spinning him around. Hands lifted Dean’s arms, checking under them.
Dean didn’t resist, he was too distracted by the quiet. His phone had finally shut up. “Is it dead?” Dean asked, a theory starting to form in the back of his mind.
“Took almost the whole clip, but it’s dead.” Cas bent down.
Dean glanced at the corpse. He swore he could already smell it rotting. “Nice shooting, Cas.”
Cas only nodded, the movement jerky as he stood back up. “I think you’re good.” His eyes darkened. “It’s lucky you had on that jacket.” Cas’s expression flickered with something Dean couldn’t quite place.
“Lucky for me, not the jacket.” Dean glanced down. All that was left was a smoking, brown puddle. He poked at it with his boot, trying not to think about how close he’d just come to having his skin melted off.
His heart still racing, Dean jumped when Cas grabbed his forearm. “We need to go,” he whispered.
“Wh-” the question died on his lips as his phone started warbling and screeching again. Dean’s stomach dropped as he peered into the fog; he could make out five more dark forms shambling towards them.
“The gunfire must have drawn them,” Dean rasped grabbing his discarded shotgun, then racing to the trunk. He grabbed all the remaining ammo, shoved it into the duffel, then he and Cas took off at a sprint down the road not bothering to be quiet. It would have been a futile gesture with his phone announcing their presence to everything in the area.
It was good those things were slow as shit.
He would have tossed the phone, but he had a feeling they’d need it. It only seemed to go off when there were nasties trying to get the drop on them. An early warning system could be useful, too bad it warned the freaks as well.
As they got further ahead of the acid, spitting, drunkards his phone went to sleep again.
It seemed his hunch had been right on the money.
They passed the sign announcing they‘d arrived in Silent hill.
Talk about jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
Next Chapter
Feel free to friend this journal for updates :)
Comments are loved. They feed my muse and let me know if anyone's actually reading this :)
Author: nicole9514
Rating: R
Chapters: 5/? (probably about 15)
Warnings: gore, blood, disturbing imagery, violence, language
Genre: Crossover/a bit AU
Spoilers: season five supernatural, Silent Hill film, and Silent Hill 1 and 2 video games.
Characters: Focus on Dean and Castiel friendship or pre-slash depending on your preference, but some Sam and Bobby as well.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Silent Hill, I'm only playing with them.
A/N: I blatantly steal elements/scenarios from the Silent Hill film, and Silent Hill 1 and 2 video games, but I've also created some of my own/expanded upon elements to create an insane trip to Silent Hill tailor made for Dean and Cas, hence the AU part of this fic. <
Special Thanks: to my beta skylar_matthews
Summary: Dean and Cas get trapped in Silent Hill. Sam and Bobby are on the outside trying to find them - will they find a way out...
Word Count:2542 (total 22,435 so far)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Sam bent down, his fingers tracing a path over the skid marks. He was almost positive they were the Impala’s.
He and Bobby had found the road leading up to Silent Hill. They’d followed it until they’d come upon an old, rusty bridge. Bobby had noticed the black marks that marred the pavement. They’d stopped to investigate.
Sam clenched his teeth; the marks looked fresh. The dent on the railing with a streak of black paint on it was also fresh. The only thing missing was the car and its two passengers.
There was no way they’d gone over the side; the bridge was still intact. Sam stood up and peered over the edge anyway.
Nothing.
“Maybe the car wasn‘t severely damaged, and they decided to go on ahead without us,” Bobby hollered from the van. His tone suggested he doubted this was the case.
Sam turned and said with absolute certainty, “Dean would have called.”
Bobby blew out a puff of air. “Yeah. He would have.”
A few moments of silence passed before Bobby added, “someone could have found them.”
That‘s exactly what I‘m afraid of.
“They could have called an ambulance, took them to the hospital, and had the car towed,” Bobby continued while reaching for his cell phone. “I’ll call any hospitals in the area.”
Sam doubted there would be very many. He also doubted Dean or Cas would be there. Cas would have did his thing, transporting them both back to the archives to meet them.
Something else was going on here.
Sam glanced back at the site of the accident, then at the road ahead of them.
He could hear Bobby talking in the background.
Sam headed back to the van, hopped in, and fired up the engine.
It was time to pay Silent Hill a visit.
*****
Dean sucked in a breath and softly walked up behind Cas who was bent over, looking down into the abyss. He felt like he was moving in slow motion; his blood pumped faster with each step. His breathing sounded too loud in the dead silence that surrounded them.
Dean had seen a lot in his life. Monsters, witches, demons, shape shifters, vampires, hell, even talking teddy bears, but those had all been things he could kill. This he didn’t know how to fight, and it terrified him.
When Dean reached the edge he knelt beside Cas, who seemed frozen in place.
Dean looked down - big mistake. His stomach dropped to his knees, his heart lurched, and he had to sit back on his ass to avoid a potentially life threatening fall into oblivion. This place was really screwing with his tough guy image.
Cas reached out and grabbed his arm. “Careful.”
“No shit,” Dean snapped burying his fear with anger. “Where the fuck are we?”
Cas’s eyes drifted back to the bottomless pit of fog and death. “I‘m not sure.”
“You’re a freaking angel for Christ’s sake, Cas! You have to know something.” Dean fingers clenched the shotgun, his muscles tensed, his words came out harsh and cutting.
Cas’s head jerked back towards him. “I’m not omnipotent, Dean. I don’t know everything,” Cas fired back, his eyes narrowed, his face still a bit too pale.
Dean took a deep breath; he needed to get a grip. This wasn’t Cas’s fault. It was his. He’d brought them here and he’d crashed the car. Cas had only come along to help him. Fear and anger were a bad combination and they made Dean a real ass sometimes, and he knew it.
“You’re right, this is just,” Dean checked his gun, “weird even for us.”
Cas nodded, his eyes softened. “I know.” Cas stood up and backed away from the ledge. He offered Dean his hand.
Dean took it.
“I think this,” Cas gestured towards the nothingness, “may explain the strange energy and my angelic…,” his voice trailed off as he searched for the right word.
“Impotence,” Dean suggested, his eyebrows waggling.
Cas glared. “Interference,” he said pointedly. “Wherever we are - we’ve been cut off from the outside world. I don’t understand it or know how it’s possible, but I don‘t believe this happened by chance. Something trapped us here. I‘ve felt its presence.” Cas sighed. “That’s all I’ve got.”
Yeah and used my dad as bait. “It’s a start,” Dean tried to sound optimistic.
Cas shrugged, his eyes weary.
Dean looked back the way they’d come from. “I guess there’s only one option. We’re going to have to pay a visit to Silent Hill and find out who‘s party this is.”
“It looks that way.” Cas didn’t look any happier about it than Dean felt.
“After you.” Dean smiled and pointed his gun in the direction they needed to head.
****
When the Impala came into view, goose bumps erupted on Dean’s flesh. The car doors were both wide open; he knew they’d closed them.
He shared a “what now?” look with Cas as they slowly approached the car. Dean had his finger on the trigger, and his body on high alert. Eyes, ears, even his nose searched for danger.
Dean took another step; the sound of something squelching under foot made him flinch. He looked down, under his boot was a dead bug. A really big, ugly, black one that reminded him of a cross between a cockroach and a crab. He lifted his foot; a thin string of yellow guts dangled from his sole. He rubbed his shoe against the ground, wiping most of the gunk onto the pavement.
“That’s just wrong.” Dean hissed, part disgusted, part fascinated. He’d never seen anything like it.
“Let’s just be glad it’s dead.” Cas was glaring at it like he expected it to jump up and start eating his face off any second.
Dean didn’t blame him; the thing gave him a major case of the heebie-jeebies as well.
“Yeah, I’m just hoping we don’t meet the rest of his family further down the road.” Dean shuddered. Freaking bugs.
Cas stepped forward, his eyes a bit wider, and leaned into the passenger seat door. He pulled back moments later holding a large piece of red paper in his hands. He didn’t look happy.
“What is that?” Dean asked not waiting for an answer as he yanked it from Cas’s fingers.
The paper was thicker than normal, more cardboard than loose leaf.
On it was a drawing.
Dean’s stomach twisted into a pretzel.
“I gotta hand it to whoever drew this, they’ve got real talent,” Dean managed to keep his voice carefree while his heart raced and his lungs tightened.
“I can think of other words to describe whoever made that,” Cas said, his tone and expression both menacing.
With only a black crayon, someone had drawn his father burning alive with incredible detail. His eyes were wide and full of agony; begging for release. The flames had left his flesh charred and blistered. His mouth was open wide; Dean swore he could almost hear the screams.
Dean swallowed back bile. He knew this image would be seared into his brain for the rest of his life. Considering, both he and his father had spent time in hell, it hit all too close to home.
His eyes drifted to the bottom of the paper; there was a message scrawled in jagged handwriting along its edge.
Come play with us.
A small picture of a school house was drawn in the lower right hand corner.
“That’s not creepy.” Dean plastered a grin on his face, trying to ignore the trickle of sweat running down his back.
“Dean,” Cas’s voice was full of concern. “I know this is har-”
“Don’t get sappy on me, Cas. I’m fine.” His grin never wavered. “I’ll be even more fine once I find the sick fuck who’s playing games with us and blow a hole though their head,” Dean finished, widening his forced smile.
Cas didn’t look like he was buying it, but he didn’t press. The angel stepped closer, avoiding the insect carcass, and invaded Dean’s personal space. Before he could remind his friend about the territorial bubble all humans liked to have respected, Cas snatched the drawing back and started examining it more closely. His blue eyes were intense and searching.
“You find Elvis in there, make sure and let me know,” Dean quipped.
Cas pursed his lips, then brought the paper to his nose, sniffing it. “It smells like blood.”
Dean leaned in, taking a whiff of his own. Cas was right. A metallic aroma flooded his nostrils. That meant it had to be fresh, when blood got old, it smelled more like rotten meat.
The red color of the paper suddenly seemed a lot more ominous than it had before.
“Maybe they ran out of fancy invitations and had to improvise,” Dean said, meeting Cas’s piercing blue stare.
“You know this is a trap,” Cas said ignoring his attempt at humor, his tone matter of fact.
“Yep. I do.” Dean took the paper, folded it up, then shoved it into his back pocket.
Cas stayed silent.
Dean sighed. “Look, I don’t know if whatever this is has my dad. What I do know is that we’re trapped here. This is the only lead we have to get some type of answers. I’m going to find this towns school and introduce myself to the ring master.” Dean clenched his teeth, then reached out and rested a hand briefly on Cas’s shoulder. “Whatever this is, it seems to be luring me somewhere. You don’t have to come along. This is my problem, not yours.”
Cas tensed. “I’m going, Dean,” his voice was soft, but dangerous.
Dean didn’t reply - his skin had broken out in a cold sweat. He had that tingle he got at the base of his spine when something was watching him.
Dean looked around, straining to see through the ocean of fog.
Dean’s cell phone started buzzing, it was eerily similar to the noise his radio had made. Dean fumbled with the off button, naturally, it didn‘t work.
His pulse quickened and his breathing became more rapid.
“You see anything?” Dean asked Cas.
Cas wasn’t listening, he was staring over Dean’s shoulder, his blue eyes wary.
Dean spun; he peered into the swirling, whiteness. A flicker of movement before the fog swallowed it up again.
Footsteps.
Heavy, uneven.
Dean wished his phone would shut the hell up. The constant horror film background music was making him twitchy.
Whatever it was got closer, the jerky steps got louder, more insistent.
His phone reached ear drum shattering levels of annoyance as it quivered in his pocket.
Dean took a step forward; Cas mirrored him.
Dean could make out the silhouette of something human height. It was shambling towards them, for a brief moment Dean wondered if it was someone on a bender. It moved with the gait of a person who‘d had more than their share of alcohol.
It got closer.
Dean finally got a good look.
The humanoid thing walked upright. Its bare feet slapped against the concrete. Grey skin across its chest and torso twitched and throbbed; it had no arms. Dean got the impression its missing appendages were enclosed inside its own flesh. He swore it was trying to tear them free as it writhed, leaving a trail of something thick and black wherever it stepped. When the substance hit the ground it popped and sizzled, sending bursts of smoke into the air.
Most disturbing of all was the lack of a face. It had the outline of a head, but nothing else. What kind of an abomination had no eyes?
He was used to meeting his enemies gaze. Sizing them up.
He was not used to being almost paralyzed by fear.
If he hadn’t been hardened by years of hunting horrific creatures and his time spent in hell - he’d have probably pissed himself.
“Dean,” Cas’s shaken voice was the equivalent of a bucket of ice water down his back.
Dean blinked, shoved down his fear, lifted his gun, aimed and snarled, “Stop right there ugly?”
The only response was more of that viscous tar-like material dripping onto the pavement. Dean realized it was coming from a hole in the center of this creatures chest.
“Fuck this,” Dean growled, his finger started to pull back the trigger.
Black tar sprayed from the thing, coming straight for the hunter. Dean spun and managed to cover his head with his arms. The shit rained down, splattered against his back and arms.
He heard the sound of the 9 mm blasting away.
Dean didn’t have time to see how Cas was fairing because he was burning alive. That crap was eating through his leather jacket like it was made of mesh. Dean dropped his shotgun, tore his jacket off, flinging it to the ground. He could smell the burning fabric as he frantically checked himself for anymore of that crap.
“Let me do it,” Cas’s strained voice grabbed Dean’s attention.
Cas grabbed his shoulders, spinning him around. Hands lifted Dean’s arms, checking under them.
Dean didn’t resist, he was too distracted by the quiet. His phone had finally shut up. “Is it dead?” Dean asked, a theory starting to form in the back of his mind.
“Took almost the whole clip, but it’s dead.” Cas bent down.
Dean glanced at the corpse. He swore he could already smell it rotting. “Nice shooting, Cas.”
Cas only nodded, the movement jerky as he stood back up. “I think you’re good.” His eyes darkened. “It’s lucky you had on that jacket.” Cas’s expression flickered with something Dean couldn’t quite place.
“Lucky for me, not the jacket.” Dean glanced down. All that was left was a smoking, brown puddle. He poked at it with his boot, trying not to think about how close he’d just come to having his skin melted off.
His heart still racing, Dean jumped when Cas grabbed his forearm. “We need to go,” he whispered.
“Wh-” the question died on his lips as his phone started warbling and screeching again. Dean’s stomach dropped as he peered into the fog; he could make out five more dark forms shambling towards them.
“The gunfire must have drawn them,” Dean rasped grabbing his discarded shotgun, then racing to the trunk. He grabbed all the remaining ammo, shoved it into the duffel, then he and Cas took off at a sprint down the road not bothering to be quiet. It would have been a futile gesture with his phone announcing their presence to everything in the area.
It was good those things were slow as shit.
He would have tossed the phone, but he had a feeling they’d need it. It only seemed to go off when there were nasties trying to get the drop on them. An early warning system could be useful, too bad it warned the freaks as well.
As they got further ahead of the acid, spitting, drunkards his phone went to sleep again.
It seemed his hunch had been right on the money.
They passed the sign announcing they‘d arrived in Silent hill.
Talk about jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
Next Chapter
Feel free to friend this journal for updates :)
Comments are loved. They feed my muse and let me know if anyone's actually reading this :)