Fic: Crossover: Supernatural: Silent Hill: Dean, Cas (13/?)
I hope everyone who celebrates had a great Thanksgiving!
Also note the additional warning of torture i've added.
Title: Supernatural: Silent Hill
Author: nicole9514
Rating: R
Chapters: 13/? (still editing/writing, but i'm almost positive it'll be 15 total)
Warnings: gore, blood, disturbing imagery, violence, language, torture
Genre: Crossover/AU on the silent hill front
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 canon/expanded/changed characters and other 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: 3,313 (total 41,061 total)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7
Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12
Dean pressed his ear to the cold, metal door and listened. He could hear someone speaking. There were definitely people in there, but that’s all Dean could get.
He grabbed the handle and started to push the door open.
“You just don’t know when to quit do you?”
Dean turned slowly, his stomach churning. Claudia stood several feet away, pointing the handgun he’d given to Cas directly at Dean’s head. “And you just can’t stay away from me can you Claudia?” He smirked - entering full blown cocky asshole mode.
“You fool. You could have left - now you’re going to die - for nothing,” she snarled, but there was a hint of confusion in her manic expression.
She honestly didn’t get it.
Dean felt his anger erupt. “No, not for nothing, skank. For family.”
Claudia’s mouth tightened and she shook her head, “That makes no sense.”
Dean shrugged. “Wouldn’t expect you to understand. Crazy, fanatics, who are hell bent on releasing some murdering psycho on the world, don’t really get loyalty.”
She actually freaking cackled. “That angel is not your family, Winchester.”
Dean snorted and cocked his head. “Bitch, you wouldn’t understand what makes someone family if it jumped up and bit you on your sagging ass.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You think you’re so funny.” Her finger tightened slightly on the trigger.
Great, now you really pissed her off jackass.
Dean’s mind raced and his eyes darted around the hallway as he tried to come up with a way out of this shit storm. Cas was just in the next room, he knew it. He could feel him. It was that prickle he got along his spine just before Cas showed up. Dean had always wondered if he’d imagined it, but now he knew better.
Dean refocused his gaze on Claudia.
That’s when he noticed his way out of this. Time to keep her distracted.
“You know your god,” he spat the last word, “is playing you for a fool.” Dean took a step towards Claudia, making sure he had her full attention.
She kept her face blank, but Dean saw doubt flicker in her eyes, and her finger loosened on the trigger. “You know nothing.”
“Don’t I?” He forced his posture to become relaxed. “It seems to me this god of yours wouldn’t have much use for you once it gets free.”
Claudia‘s brow furrowed. “Valtiel relies on me. I’ve always been her right hand.”
“Is that why you’re out here playing guard dog while Walter is keeping Valtiel company?” Dean had no idea if Walter actually was inside, but he figured since he hadn’t seen him yet, he had a pretty good chance of being right. “Seems to me that you’ve been demoted.”
The snarl that erupted from her dry, cracked lips and the insane rage that lit up behind her eyes told Dean he’d been right on the money. “We’ll see how cocky you are when you’re dead,” she ranted.
Before she could follow through on her threat a wooden board crashed into the back of her skull.
Claudia crumpled to the ground.
Dhalia stood over her, chest heaving, and let the board clatter to the floor.
“I never did like her,” she panted, her skin too pale as her arm shot out and she braced herself against the wall.
Dean raced over and caught her. “You okay?” He felt a sticky warmth on the hand he’d wrapped around her waist. He glanced back and noticed a trail of blood peppering the floor of the hallway.
“I had a run in with one of those vile nurses on the way here.”
“Shit.” Dean helped her sit on the floor; he leaned her against the wall and checked the wound. She’d been stabbed in the stomach.
Dean knew a lot about wounds. This one was bad.
He yanked a strip of fabric from her skirt. “Keep pressure on this,” he ordered while taking her hand and placing it on top of the cloth.
Their gazes locked, he saw acceptance in her weary, blood shot eyes.
“You didn‘t have to do this,” Dean said softly.
“Yes, I did.”
Dean opened his mouth to respond when Dhalia’s eyes filled with fire. “Claudia held my daughter down on the altar while she screamed for me.”
Dean’s gaze shot to Claudia’s crumpled form. Anger coiled in his stomach. Claudia might have been human, but she was as close to evil as any demon he’d ever met.
“She lit the match that burned Alessa’s body after the ceremony failed,” Dhalia continued, her voice a barely controlled volcano. “To cleanse her. I could not stand by and let it happen again.” She paused, her breathing hitched. “I owe my daughter more than that.”
He turned back towards Dhalia and nodded his understanding. Dhalia hadn’t been able to save her daughter from these fuckers, but she had wanted to help him save Cas.
Dean felt like an ass for ever thinking badly of this woman. She was stronger than he’d ever imagined.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes, her lips lifted in the barest of smiles. “Go. Help your friend.”
Dean squeezed her arm one last time, he snatched the handgun, checking the clip. It still held two rounds. He also grabbed the board; a back up weapon was always a good idea in this neighborhood.
Dean inhaled twice deeply then walked to the door.
*****
Castiel could feel the life draining from his body; he should have been able to heal - but this creature was preventing that. He felt the same as when he’d thought he’d been drowning in a room full of blood.
Helpless.
He could hear the sound of his blood dripping into the bowls below.
His eyes were getting heavy, his heart was racing, and he felt so weak. Was this what it felt like to die a human death?
Still he fought.
He could feel something besides the cold, tainted, tendrils wrapped around his grace. There was another presence, a warmer one. It was getting closer. It gave Cas something to hold onto besides the darkness that beckoned.
He’d recognize this particular tug anywhere.
Dean.
Walter started chanting.
Cas forced his eyes to open, his head lolled to the side. Valtiel was looming over him, her face inches from his, her hands hovering near each side of his head.
She noticed him watching her and seemed surprised. “Still hanging on I see,” she said, her eyes were practically glowing with eagerness. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.”
Cas cleared his throat and managed a gruff, “screw you,” even though his vocal chords felt like they were covered with tar.
She blinked, gave him a cold smile, and waved her hand in the air as if she were swatting a fly.
A force struck his right cheek, sending his head jerking sideways. He felt as if he’d been hit with a sledgehammer. His face throbbed, but he latched onto the pain, using it to stay awake.
******
Dean crept inside the room; it was empty, but he could hear voices coming from somewhere nearby. There was another door on the opposite end of this one, and another to his right. Rusty, grimy sinks lined one side of the walls and a cart holding a few medical supplies sat in a corner. Dean absently realized he was in a surgical bay - where doctors would have scrubbed up before entering the operating room.
Dean started to make his way across the filthy, tiled floor. He’d taken two soft steps inside when something jingled. He pressed his back to the wall, and his gaze shot towards the sound. The nearest door opened and a man Dean hadn’t seen before stepped out. He was wearing those same stupid black robes, but his hood was down. He was over six feet tall, gangly, and sporting a long, stringy haircut. This was probably one of the jokers who’d pointed a shotgun at him earlier.
The man didn’t notice the hunter clinging to the wall; his head was turned towards the double doors on the other side. He headed straight that way without glancing around at his surroundings.
Dumb ass.
Dean didn’t want to use the gun, he had bigger fish to catch, and he needed to put this guy down quietly. The last thing he wanted was more of these cultist to come running.
Dean snuck up behind him before he could reach the other door, and put him in a sleeper hold. The guy tried to cry out, but all he managed was a small puff of air, while Dean applied a little more pressure than necessary. He jabbed his elbow into the man’s lower back forcing him to bend backwards, allowing for his arm to wrap more tightly around the thin man’s neck. Dean ignored the pain flaring in his injured arm as he held on until the freak went limp.
He laid him on the ground, then went to the door the robed dude had emerged from- peeking through. It was another dark, narrow hallway. Dean drug the guy through it, shut the door, and placed the wooden board through the handle, hoping to at least delay anyone else from crashing this party.
Dean held the handgun out in front of him and finally was able to make his way towards the double doors that probably led to what had been the operating room. The voice got louder as he approached. He knelt down when he reached the swinging doors, and opened one just a crack, peering inside.
What he saw made his chest feel as if a lead weight was crushing it.
Dean couldn’t see Cas’s face, but he could see enough.
Cas was strapped to a table, blood leaking out of his lacerated wrists.
Standing with her back to Dean, her head looming just above his friend’s, her mouth moving in a silent chant, was Valtiel.
Dark hair hung just below her shoulders and hovered slightly off her back. Individual strands rose up higher; moving like snakes dancing to an unheard melody.
Walter had his nose shoved in a book, and his voice was rising as he chanted out loud. Dean didn’t recognize the language but it sounded harsh, brutal, and ominous as hell.
Valtiel’s voice became audible, rising in a sharp crescendo. His gaze darted back to her.
The space in front of the altar seemed to be shimmering. Dean stared in amazement as a thin stream of dim light appeared mid-air, it began to grow, spreading outward from the center.
Dean knew what this meant; the ritual was working. A doorway to the outside world was forming.
Images began to take shape, the light faded, and all that was left was a view of Silent Hill - the real Silent Hill.
The doorway had opened in front of Brookhaven hospital; someone stepped into view.
Dean’s heart clenched.
Sam.
His younger brother was staring straight ahead, his eyes shadowed with worry, his face covered with a white mask.
It was like looking at Sam through a pool of water, the image wavered, and moved.
Sam was here, searching for him. If this bitch got out, Sam and Bobby would be the first to go, Dean had no doubt in his mind of that.
He felt sick; the picture was becoming clearer. It was stabilizing.
He was running out of time.
He forced down his anger and fear and studied the room. Dhalia had said he needed to interrupt the ritual.
Above the altar that Cas was strapped to that symbol dangled over his head. It was also etched into every wall. Maybe if he destroyed one of the symbols - no - that would take way too much time. He’d never make it over there without that thing putting the whammy on him.
He looked down.
The bowls.
Dean glanced at the medical cart to his left; he snatched the heaviest looking thing on it. A blood pressure cuff, that naturally, was stained with blood. There probably wasn’t a fucking thing in this town that wasn’t touched with death. He tightened his grip around it and slid into the room, keeping low to the ground. He said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t miss and flung it at the bowl closest to him.
His aim was dead on.
Dark red blood spilled onto the floor.
Cas’s blood.
Fucking bitch.
There was a sound that reminded Dean of a whip cracking, a flash of light, and a tornado of opaque energy exploded out of Valtiel and funneled around the room, flinging Dean sideways and on his ass.
His head throbbed and swam. Dean lay there panting, letting the feeling of floating subside. After a few moments he opened his eyes and was treated to the image of Walter lying on the opposite side of the room, his eyes open but unseeing, his neck twisted at an impossible angle.
Looked like he’d taken a harder hit.
Dean sat up on his elbows; the opening to the outside world was gone. He had a few seconds to feel relief before Valtiel spun and stared right at him. Her eyes had turned bright red. Her skin looked wrong-it was pulled too tightly against her bones making her seem hollowed out.
Skeletal.
She screamed in rage and started towards him. Dean scrambled to his feet, ready to aim his gun, and realized he’d lost it during the mini-hurricane moments before. Fortunately she only made it a few steps before she collapsed to her knees - her entire body shaking.
She was weakened.
It had actually worked.
Dean didn’t hesitate, he took the only knife he had left, ran over to her and slit her throat. Then he drove it to the hilt into her heart, twisting it for good measure. Blood gurgled from her mouth and she fell face first onto the concrete.
He scanned the room with his eyes for the misplaced handgun, noticed it lying on the ground a few feet away, and retrieved it. He walked back to the thing bleeding all over the floor, leveled the gun on the back of Valtiel’s head and fired point blank range twice into her skull.
Dean wasn’t naïve enough to believe she would stay dead, but just maybe he’d bought himself enough time to get Cas out of here.
He darted towards his friend and noticed Cas’s chest rising and falling, saw his bottom lip move slightly, and felt some of the pressure on his chest loosen.
Cas was still alive.
He reached for the ropes restraining his friend and started to cut.
“Cas, it’s time to rise and shine.” Dean kept his voice level while he frantically sawed at the tough, thick rope. The handle was slick with blood, making it hard to keep a steady rhythm. Dean wiped it on his jeans, and went back to cutting.
Cas’s eyes opened partly. “Dean,” he whispered, his head gingerly turning towards the hunter.
Dean glanced up and had a perfect view of the right side of Cas‘s face. His cheek was bruised and swollen, a painful looking burn sat in the center of the wound. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and his voice was too weak.
It scared the shit out of Dean.
He’d never seen Cas so…human.
“The one and only.” Dean shoved down his worry and focused on cutting the rope. He got one arm free. He tore off what remained of his t-shirt, wincing as it brushed over his wound, yanked it in half, and wrapped one piece around the wrist he’d freed, tying it tightly. “You’ll be out of here before you know it.”
He started for the other side of the table; Dean felt woozy and gripped the edge of the altar.
He was vaguely aware of Cas grabbing his wrist and saying, “Fight her.”
His vision blurred and Cas went out of focus; he blinked and shook his head, trying to clear the fog that seemed to have trickled into his veins.
“Dean.” The deep familiar tenor was thin with pain and exhaustion.
Dean spun, following a voice that he’d never expected to hear again.
John Winchester was standing across from Dean. Burns and blisters covered his body, pus leaked from open sores, and his lips were charred black as he struggled to speak.
“Dad?” he managed, heart hammering, bile rising, the sense that something wasn’t right slithering along his sub-conscience.
“Help me son,” he choked out, stumbling to his knees, one arm outstretched towards Dean.
Dean raced forward, his fingers almost brushed his fathers, but something collided with his chest sending him crashing onto his back.
Dean heard the sound of arrogant laughter. He knew that laugh; it had haunted his nightmares for years.
He sat up, ignoring the ache in his ribs, and saw Alastair standing over his father. He was wearing the same skinny, bearded meat suit Dean had last seen him in - the same one Dean had tortured.
It seemed he’d found a way to come back and repay the favor.
A long, curved blade rested in his hand. “Isn’t this sweet; a father son reunion. Too bad it has to end so soon.”
Dean barely had time to scream in rage before Alastair drove the blade, deep into his fathers shoulder.
John hissed, his face paled, but he refused to cry out.
“That’s got to sting, don’t you think Dean?” He smirked, his fingers digging into the deep gash he’d just made.
John snarled and tried to pull away, but Alastair held him in place without breaking a sweat.
Dean tried to get up, but found himself being flung against the wall, and pinned to it. Alastair’s cold eyes sparkled. “Doesn’t this bring back fond memories?” He shoved his dad to the ground, and placed his boot over John’s throat.
John met his eyes, his face full of anger and disappointment. “Why weren’t you strong enough Dean? How could you let him break you?”
Dean felt that wall he kept his memories of hell behind start to crumble. “I tried - I’m sorry,” his throat felt raw, the guilt overwhelmed him. He should have held out, his father had. He’d never be the man John Winchester had expected him to be, he’d failed him, he’d failed Sam, and now he was going to fail Cas.
Cas.
Dean’s gaze shot around. Where was Cas?
He knew he was forgetting something important but it was dangling just out of reach. Cas had told him something - his thoughts scattered as Alastair appeared inches from his face, his putrid breath made Dean’s stomach roll.
“Time to go.”
Alastair grabbed his shoulder and Dean felt a surge of power ripple across his spine.
A sensation of weightlessness - everything went dark for several long moments just before his body felt as if it had been put on a tilt-a-whirl.
The smell of sulfur and death overwhelmed him. Heat lapped at his skin - smoke filled his lungs, making it a struggle to breathe. Dean coughed and his eyes watered from the fumes while screams of pain and pleas for mercy collided all around him.
Dean fought against the tiny voice babbling incessantly in the back of his mind as he realized life had once again, fucked him over.
He was back on the rack.
He was back in hell.
Pain lanced through his middle, drawing his gaze down lower.
No. No. No.
His intestines were spilling out onto the ground.
“Welcome home, Dean.”
Dean pulled his eyes away from his mutilated body and tried to hold it together - tried not to let this bastard see his fear.
Alastair’s cold, cruel eyes met his, his fingers ran over the curved blade stained crimson. "This is going to be so much fun."
Next Chapter
Feel free to friend this journal for the insanity :)
Comments are loved; it's nice to know if anyone's still reading/enjoying.
Also note the additional warning of torture i've added.
Title: Supernatural: Silent Hill
Author: nicole9514
Rating: R
Chapters: 13/? (still editing/writing, but i'm almost positive it'll be 15 total)
Warnings: gore, blood, disturbing imagery, violence, language, torture
Genre: Crossover/AU on the silent hill front
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 canon/expanded/changed characters and other 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: 3,313 (total 41,061 total)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7
Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12
Dean pressed his ear to the cold, metal door and listened. He could hear someone speaking. There were definitely people in there, but that’s all Dean could get.
He grabbed the handle and started to push the door open.
“You just don’t know when to quit do you?”
Dean turned slowly, his stomach churning. Claudia stood several feet away, pointing the handgun he’d given to Cas directly at Dean’s head. “And you just can’t stay away from me can you Claudia?” He smirked - entering full blown cocky asshole mode.
“You fool. You could have left - now you’re going to die - for nothing,” she snarled, but there was a hint of confusion in her manic expression.
She honestly didn’t get it.
Dean felt his anger erupt. “No, not for nothing, skank. For family.”
Claudia’s mouth tightened and she shook her head, “That makes no sense.”
Dean shrugged. “Wouldn’t expect you to understand. Crazy, fanatics, who are hell bent on releasing some murdering psycho on the world, don’t really get loyalty.”
She actually freaking cackled. “That angel is not your family, Winchester.”
Dean snorted and cocked his head. “Bitch, you wouldn’t understand what makes someone family if it jumped up and bit you on your sagging ass.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You think you’re so funny.” Her finger tightened slightly on the trigger.
Great, now you really pissed her off jackass.
Dean’s mind raced and his eyes darted around the hallway as he tried to come up with a way out of this shit storm. Cas was just in the next room, he knew it. He could feel him. It was that prickle he got along his spine just before Cas showed up. Dean had always wondered if he’d imagined it, but now he knew better.
Dean refocused his gaze on Claudia.
That’s when he noticed his way out of this. Time to keep her distracted.
“You know your god,” he spat the last word, “is playing you for a fool.” Dean took a step towards Claudia, making sure he had her full attention.
She kept her face blank, but Dean saw doubt flicker in her eyes, and her finger loosened on the trigger. “You know nothing.”
“Don’t I?” He forced his posture to become relaxed. “It seems to me this god of yours wouldn’t have much use for you once it gets free.”
Claudia‘s brow furrowed. “Valtiel relies on me. I’ve always been her right hand.”
“Is that why you’re out here playing guard dog while Walter is keeping Valtiel company?” Dean had no idea if Walter actually was inside, but he figured since he hadn’t seen him yet, he had a pretty good chance of being right. “Seems to me that you’ve been demoted.”
The snarl that erupted from her dry, cracked lips and the insane rage that lit up behind her eyes told Dean he’d been right on the money. “We’ll see how cocky you are when you’re dead,” she ranted.
Before she could follow through on her threat a wooden board crashed into the back of her skull.
Claudia crumpled to the ground.
Dhalia stood over her, chest heaving, and let the board clatter to the floor.
“I never did like her,” she panted, her skin too pale as her arm shot out and she braced herself against the wall.
Dean raced over and caught her. “You okay?” He felt a sticky warmth on the hand he’d wrapped around her waist. He glanced back and noticed a trail of blood peppering the floor of the hallway.
“I had a run in with one of those vile nurses on the way here.”
“Shit.” Dean helped her sit on the floor; he leaned her against the wall and checked the wound. She’d been stabbed in the stomach.
Dean knew a lot about wounds. This one was bad.
He yanked a strip of fabric from her skirt. “Keep pressure on this,” he ordered while taking her hand and placing it on top of the cloth.
Their gazes locked, he saw acceptance in her weary, blood shot eyes.
“You didn‘t have to do this,” Dean said softly.
“Yes, I did.”
Dean opened his mouth to respond when Dhalia’s eyes filled with fire. “Claudia held my daughter down on the altar while she screamed for me.”
Dean’s gaze shot to Claudia’s crumpled form. Anger coiled in his stomach. Claudia might have been human, but she was as close to evil as any demon he’d ever met.
“She lit the match that burned Alessa’s body after the ceremony failed,” Dhalia continued, her voice a barely controlled volcano. “To cleanse her. I could not stand by and let it happen again.” She paused, her breathing hitched. “I owe my daughter more than that.”
He turned back towards Dhalia and nodded his understanding. Dhalia hadn’t been able to save her daughter from these fuckers, but she had wanted to help him save Cas.
Dean felt like an ass for ever thinking badly of this woman. She was stronger than he’d ever imagined.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes, her lips lifted in the barest of smiles. “Go. Help your friend.”
Dean squeezed her arm one last time, he snatched the handgun, checking the clip. It still held two rounds. He also grabbed the board; a back up weapon was always a good idea in this neighborhood.
Dean inhaled twice deeply then walked to the door.
*****
Castiel could feel the life draining from his body; he should have been able to heal - but this creature was preventing that. He felt the same as when he’d thought he’d been drowning in a room full of blood.
Helpless.
He could hear the sound of his blood dripping into the bowls below.
His eyes were getting heavy, his heart was racing, and he felt so weak. Was this what it felt like to die a human death?
Still he fought.
He could feel something besides the cold, tainted, tendrils wrapped around his grace. There was another presence, a warmer one. It was getting closer. It gave Cas something to hold onto besides the darkness that beckoned.
He’d recognize this particular tug anywhere.
Dean.
Walter started chanting.
Cas forced his eyes to open, his head lolled to the side. Valtiel was looming over him, her face inches from his, her hands hovering near each side of his head.
She noticed him watching her and seemed surprised. “Still hanging on I see,” she said, her eyes were practically glowing with eagerness. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.”
Cas cleared his throat and managed a gruff, “screw you,” even though his vocal chords felt like they were covered with tar.
She blinked, gave him a cold smile, and waved her hand in the air as if she were swatting a fly.
A force struck his right cheek, sending his head jerking sideways. He felt as if he’d been hit with a sledgehammer. His face throbbed, but he latched onto the pain, using it to stay awake.
******
Dean crept inside the room; it was empty, but he could hear voices coming from somewhere nearby. There was another door on the opposite end of this one, and another to his right. Rusty, grimy sinks lined one side of the walls and a cart holding a few medical supplies sat in a corner. Dean absently realized he was in a surgical bay - where doctors would have scrubbed up before entering the operating room.
Dean started to make his way across the filthy, tiled floor. He’d taken two soft steps inside when something jingled. He pressed his back to the wall, and his gaze shot towards the sound. The nearest door opened and a man Dean hadn’t seen before stepped out. He was wearing those same stupid black robes, but his hood was down. He was over six feet tall, gangly, and sporting a long, stringy haircut. This was probably one of the jokers who’d pointed a shotgun at him earlier.
The man didn’t notice the hunter clinging to the wall; his head was turned towards the double doors on the other side. He headed straight that way without glancing around at his surroundings.
Dumb ass.
Dean didn’t want to use the gun, he had bigger fish to catch, and he needed to put this guy down quietly. The last thing he wanted was more of these cultist to come running.
Dean snuck up behind him before he could reach the other door, and put him in a sleeper hold. The guy tried to cry out, but all he managed was a small puff of air, while Dean applied a little more pressure than necessary. He jabbed his elbow into the man’s lower back forcing him to bend backwards, allowing for his arm to wrap more tightly around the thin man’s neck. Dean ignored the pain flaring in his injured arm as he held on until the freak went limp.
He laid him on the ground, then went to the door the robed dude had emerged from- peeking through. It was another dark, narrow hallway. Dean drug the guy through it, shut the door, and placed the wooden board through the handle, hoping to at least delay anyone else from crashing this party.
Dean held the handgun out in front of him and finally was able to make his way towards the double doors that probably led to what had been the operating room. The voice got louder as he approached. He knelt down when he reached the swinging doors, and opened one just a crack, peering inside.
What he saw made his chest feel as if a lead weight was crushing it.
Dean couldn’t see Cas’s face, but he could see enough.
Cas was strapped to a table, blood leaking out of his lacerated wrists.
Standing with her back to Dean, her head looming just above his friend’s, her mouth moving in a silent chant, was Valtiel.
Dark hair hung just below her shoulders and hovered slightly off her back. Individual strands rose up higher; moving like snakes dancing to an unheard melody.
Walter had his nose shoved in a book, and his voice was rising as he chanted out loud. Dean didn’t recognize the language but it sounded harsh, brutal, and ominous as hell.
Valtiel’s voice became audible, rising in a sharp crescendo. His gaze darted back to her.
The space in front of the altar seemed to be shimmering. Dean stared in amazement as a thin stream of dim light appeared mid-air, it began to grow, spreading outward from the center.
Dean knew what this meant; the ritual was working. A doorway to the outside world was forming.
Images began to take shape, the light faded, and all that was left was a view of Silent Hill - the real Silent Hill.
The doorway had opened in front of Brookhaven hospital; someone stepped into view.
Dean’s heart clenched.
Sam.
His younger brother was staring straight ahead, his eyes shadowed with worry, his face covered with a white mask.
It was like looking at Sam through a pool of water, the image wavered, and moved.
Sam was here, searching for him. If this bitch got out, Sam and Bobby would be the first to go, Dean had no doubt in his mind of that.
He felt sick; the picture was becoming clearer. It was stabilizing.
He was running out of time.
He forced down his anger and fear and studied the room. Dhalia had said he needed to interrupt the ritual.
Above the altar that Cas was strapped to that symbol dangled over his head. It was also etched into every wall. Maybe if he destroyed one of the symbols - no - that would take way too much time. He’d never make it over there without that thing putting the whammy on him.
He looked down.
The bowls.
Dean glanced at the medical cart to his left; he snatched the heaviest looking thing on it. A blood pressure cuff, that naturally, was stained with blood. There probably wasn’t a fucking thing in this town that wasn’t touched with death. He tightened his grip around it and slid into the room, keeping low to the ground. He said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t miss and flung it at the bowl closest to him.
His aim was dead on.
Dark red blood spilled onto the floor.
Cas’s blood.
Fucking bitch.
There was a sound that reminded Dean of a whip cracking, a flash of light, and a tornado of opaque energy exploded out of Valtiel and funneled around the room, flinging Dean sideways and on his ass.
His head throbbed and swam. Dean lay there panting, letting the feeling of floating subside. After a few moments he opened his eyes and was treated to the image of Walter lying on the opposite side of the room, his eyes open but unseeing, his neck twisted at an impossible angle.
Looked like he’d taken a harder hit.
Dean sat up on his elbows; the opening to the outside world was gone. He had a few seconds to feel relief before Valtiel spun and stared right at him. Her eyes had turned bright red. Her skin looked wrong-it was pulled too tightly against her bones making her seem hollowed out.
Skeletal.
She screamed in rage and started towards him. Dean scrambled to his feet, ready to aim his gun, and realized he’d lost it during the mini-hurricane moments before. Fortunately she only made it a few steps before she collapsed to her knees - her entire body shaking.
She was weakened.
It had actually worked.
Dean didn’t hesitate, he took the only knife he had left, ran over to her and slit her throat. Then he drove it to the hilt into her heart, twisting it for good measure. Blood gurgled from her mouth and she fell face first onto the concrete.
He scanned the room with his eyes for the misplaced handgun, noticed it lying on the ground a few feet away, and retrieved it. He walked back to the thing bleeding all over the floor, leveled the gun on the back of Valtiel’s head and fired point blank range twice into her skull.
Dean wasn’t naïve enough to believe she would stay dead, but just maybe he’d bought himself enough time to get Cas out of here.
He darted towards his friend and noticed Cas’s chest rising and falling, saw his bottom lip move slightly, and felt some of the pressure on his chest loosen.
Cas was still alive.
He reached for the ropes restraining his friend and started to cut.
“Cas, it’s time to rise and shine.” Dean kept his voice level while he frantically sawed at the tough, thick rope. The handle was slick with blood, making it hard to keep a steady rhythm. Dean wiped it on his jeans, and went back to cutting.
Cas’s eyes opened partly. “Dean,” he whispered, his head gingerly turning towards the hunter.
Dean glanced up and had a perfect view of the right side of Cas‘s face. His cheek was bruised and swollen, a painful looking burn sat in the center of the wound. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and his voice was too weak.
It scared the shit out of Dean.
He’d never seen Cas so…human.
“The one and only.” Dean shoved down his worry and focused on cutting the rope. He got one arm free. He tore off what remained of his t-shirt, wincing as it brushed over his wound, yanked it in half, and wrapped one piece around the wrist he’d freed, tying it tightly. “You’ll be out of here before you know it.”
He started for the other side of the table; Dean felt woozy and gripped the edge of the altar.
He was vaguely aware of Cas grabbing his wrist and saying, “Fight her.”
His vision blurred and Cas went out of focus; he blinked and shook his head, trying to clear the fog that seemed to have trickled into his veins.
“Dean.” The deep familiar tenor was thin with pain and exhaustion.
Dean spun, following a voice that he’d never expected to hear again.
John Winchester was standing across from Dean. Burns and blisters covered his body, pus leaked from open sores, and his lips were charred black as he struggled to speak.
“Dad?” he managed, heart hammering, bile rising, the sense that something wasn’t right slithering along his sub-conscience.
“Help me son,” he choked out, stumbling to his knees, one arm outstretched towards Dean.
Dean raced forward, his fingers almost brushed his fathers, but something collided with his chest sending him crashing onto his back.
Dean heard the sound of arrogant laughter. He knew that laugh; it had haunted his nightmares for years.
He sat up, ignoring the ache in his ribs, and saw Alastair standing over his father. He was wearing the same skinny, bearded meat suit Dean had last seen him in - the same one Dean had tortured.
It seemed he’d found a way to come back and repay the favor.
A long, curved blade rested in his hand. “Isn’t this sweet; a father son reunion. Too bad it has to end so soon.”
Dean barely had time to scream in rage before Alastair drove the blade, deep into his fathers shoulder.
John hissed, his face paled, but he refused to cry out.
“That’s got to sting, don’t you think Dean?” He smirked, his fingers digging into the deep gash he’d just made.
John snarled and tried to pull away, but Alastair held him in place without breaking a sweat.
Dean tried to get up, but found himself being flung against the wall, and pinned to it. Alastair’s cold eyes sparkled. “Doesn’t this bring back fond memories?” He shoved his dad to the ground, and placed his boot over John’s throat.
John met his eyes, his face full of anger and disappointment. “Why weren’t you strong enough Dean? How could you let him break you?”
Dean felt that wall he kept his memories of hell behind start to crumble. “I tried - I’m sorry,” his throat felt raw, the guilt overwhelmed him. He should have held out, his father had. He’d never be the man John Winchester had expected him to be, he’d failed him, he’d failed Sam, and now he was going to fail Cas.
Cas.
Dean’s gaze shot around. Where was Cas?
He knew he was forgetting something important but it was dangling just out of reach. Cas had told him something - his thoughts scattered as Alastair appeared inches from his face, his putrid breath made Dean’s stomach roll.
“Time to go.”
Alastair grabbed his shoulder and Dean felt a surge of power ripple across his spine.
A sensation of weightlessness - everything went dark for several long moments just before his body felt as if it had been put on a tilt-a-whirl.
The smell of sulfur and death overwhelmed him. Heat lapped at his skin - smoke filled his lungs, making it a struggle to breathe. Dean coughed and his eyes watered from the fumes while screams of pain and pleas for mercy collided all around him.
Dean fought against the tiny voice babbling incessantly in the back of his mind as he realized life had once again, fucked him over.
He was back on the rack.
He was back in hell.
Pain lanced through his middle, drawing his gaze down lower.
No. No. No.
His intestines were spilling out onto the ground.
“Welcome home, Dean.”
Dean pulled his eyes away from his mutilated body and tried to hold it together - tried not to let this bastard see his fear.
Alastair’s cold, cruel eyes met his, his fingers ran over the curved blade stained crimson. "This is going to be so much fun."
Next Chapter
Feel free to friend this journal for the insanity :)
Comments are loved; it's nice to know if anyone's still reading/enjoying.