SPN 2010 Big Bang Continued
Nightmares of Hell Part 2
~Part 1~
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"All right, boys. Now you stick together and be careful." John Winchester handed them both a small pack with self- igniting flares and fixed each of them with a hard look. "This creature is one nasty son of a bitch, so you two take care of each other, you hear me? If you get separated, you both head back to the car as soon as you can, and leave the rest to me, all right?"
"Yes sir." Sam and Dean chorused, slinging their bags over their shoulders. They were both armed from head to toe to take out everything from squirrels to bear, though their target was closer to the latter than the former. A pissed off animal spirit had been violently rampaging its home forest, trying to keep people far far away. There were plans to bulldoze the entire forest to make room for a brand new highway, and while they could sympathize with the poor creature's plight they also couldn't let it slaughter any more innocent hikers and campers.
Of course, Sam had been especially vocal about the situation, quietly pleading with Dean whenever their Dad was out of earshot. "There has to be something else we can do, Dean. It's angry because it's going to lose its home."
"Sammy, I don't know what you want me to do." Dean wanted to turn away, to watch out the window for Dad and avoid the look on his brother's face before it broke his heart into itty bitty pieces.
"We could try to stop the destruction! Think about how many creatures this is going to kill anyway. It's not just about the spirit. Please, you have to try!" The kid had long gone through puberty, but his eyes were still lethal in the most pitiful way possible.
Dean sighed. "You know we can't do that."
The answer was confident, nearly limitless in its faith. "You're my brother, and you can do anything." There was a stubborn tone lying underneath the words as he turned to look out his own window. Their Dad had returned.
Dean really wasn't unsympathetic to the whole situation. The only reason any of this was happening was because some idiot decided ripping up nature was less of an expense than going around the damn thing in the first place. What did they need a new highway for anyway? Why couldn't they just fix the existing roads? People died because of stupidity like this.
Standing now next to Sam, ready to split up from their dad and hunt a dead creature that had mutilated thirteen people in the past month, Dean had to remember that there was nothing else they could do. This spirit had already gone ballistic. There was no calming it down or finding it a new place to live, and while maybe, just maybe getting the construction to go elsewhere could have done something, the Winchester family didn't need the attention talking to bigwigs like that would have brought upon them. They had no other options than to find out how to stop this spirit.
They watched their Dad head off into the forest first. He was going to try and distract the creature while they searched for its bones. There was one major problem with this plan, Dean knew. In an entire forest how easy did they really think it was going to be to find one set of animal bones?
"Can we really do this, Dean?" Sam asked, taking a deep breath. They both knew they'd be targets for this thing the moment they entered the woods.
Dean wrapped his arm around him, tugging him close for a moment before letting go. "We have to, Sammy. Dad's counting on us." They looked at each other, shared a nod, and simultaneously cocked their shotguns.
Their only saving grace was that there were parts of the forest where the spirit hunted most of its victims. Dad had figured that its bones had to be located in the center of the mutilation pattern. Gruesome idea, but that was as good a place to start as any. Sam was in charge of the map, which he pulled out to double check their position. They were giving Dad a little time to distract the spirit so they could move in.
"All right, let's do this,." Dean finally said. Sam pointed to the left side path and they moved into the forest. The sun was quickly blocked by the tree canopy, but the brothers were secure in their steps, used to all kinds of darkness as a consequence of their job. Dean gripped his shotgun a little tighter, eyes searching the shadows for any signs of the spirit, just in case. He figured Dad was well into its territory by now, but he didn't hear any gunshots or anything of the sort to tell him that a distraction was taking place. It was possible that there were just too many trees for the sound to carry, or perhaps their target wasn't taking the bait. Either way he knew they had to be careful.
"Dean, we're getting close. One of the victims was caught just down this side path here." Sam said, his words muffled by a penlight he held precariously between his lips in order to read the map while Dean watched his back. He pointed to what he could only describe as a deer path through the trees, nothing more than trampled foliage. "Which means the campsite that was ravaged can't be too far ahead." The kid put the map away, good enough with directions to keep them from getting horribly lost.
For the next few minutes there was absolute silence between them. They'd worked often enough the last few years, both through training and actual jobs, that they didn't need to talk. Everything was automatic, effortless. They had their own language of looks and gestures that suited them well in situations where they couldn't draw too much attention to themselves. This was how they moved now, guarding each other as they came upon the campsite and moved through it. Park rangers had long since cleaned the area as much as they could, deeming it an unfortunate accident, so there wasn't much in the way of gore or smell, but the sense of violence lingered in the ground.
Dean followed Sam, keeping an eye out behind them as his brother led the way into the forest, judging the distance in his head. He was good at weird things like that. Useful things, but weird. For the first ten minutes, everything was fine and dandy. Quiet. Until suddenly it was too quiet. They both stopped moving, straining to see in the dim light. "Dean?" Sam questioned softly.
"Yeah," Dean agreed, just as quiet, nothing more than a whisper of air past his lips. No birds were chirping. No bugs were buzzing. Just dead silence.
"Guess Dad couldn't distract it..." They were back to back now, shotguns held at the ready.
"Guess not."
"What are we going to do?"
Dean grit his teeth, securing his grip on his gun. "You're going to find and burn those bones." Then, without further warning, he shot off into the trees, shouting. "Come and get me, bitch!"
He expected it would come out of hiding to chase him, but knowing this, and actually hearing the ear shattering roar shake the Earth not far from him was almost enough to make him wet himself. It probably would have if he weren't Dean Winchester and above such signs of weakness. Foliage was crushed under large feet as the animal chased him, knocking into, and through, everything in its way as it tried to catch up. He wasn't a novice to running from dangerous things, however. The spirit would have a harder time catching him than it did any of the other, weaker victims. The only real good thing about the situation he quickly found himself in was that the creature was chasing him and not his brother.
Still, it was a very small consolation, he found out, for the spirit could just barrel through whatever it wanted, sometimes corporeal, sometimes not, and Dean had no idea where he was trying to go. He could hear it gaining on him as he leaped over bushes and logs, tried quick turns that failed miserably as the spirit just turned with him, not having to worry about momentum as much as Dean did, if at all. Getting desperate, he spun on his heels, brought his shotgun to bear, and shot the thing right in its face as it opened its mouth wide to take a big bite out of him. It vanished with an ugly cry, and Dean fell to the ground, grateful for the breather.
"That's one massively pissed off ghost," Dean mumbled to himself as he got to his feet.
There came a crashing sound from the way he had come, and he raised his shotgun warily, only to hear Sam calling him from the darkness. "Dean!"
"Here, Sammy. It's okay, I got it for no-" It felt like he'd been hit by a truck as a larger than life paw crashed into his side from behind, sending him flying like a rag doll into the darkness. He hit a tree, heard the crack of bone, and hit the ground hard. The ground collapsed underneath him and he sunk into the ground between the tree's root, the small hole quickly filling in with dirt shook loose from the spirit's heavy, thumping steps as it searched for him.
He couldn't breathe. That was the first thing he noticed. The second was that he didn't know where the ground was or which way was up. His arm was broken, the other stuck beneath him at an angle that promised similar pain as he tried to move, and who knew what was going on with his legs. He tried holding what breath he still had after getting it knocked out of him, remembering with a growing sense of frantic horror that Sammy was up there without him, left to that spirit's wicked vengeance.
His lungs were burning. Cold damp earth pressed into him from all sides. He shifted his head, thrashing without thinking with the need to breathe. The movement jerked both arms and even knocked his head against what he could only assume later to have been one of the tree's root. Letting out a short, sharp cry at the pain, he inhaled, his mouth filling with soil. Choking, he wriggled desperately, no longer caring if he broke both arms, no longer feeling the pain. Just desperate for oxygen. He was trapped, helpless, and dying.
Quickly beginning to feel lightheaded, Dean never noticed the suddenly rush of heat, nor two pairs of hands scrabbling at the dirt around his knees. By the time he was aware again, he was miraculously outside the forest, squinting in the evening sunlight. Sitting up suddenly, he simultaneously groaned and inhaled, and then coughed immediately after, his throat raw.
"Hey, take it easy, will you?" Dad, he recognized, dizzily looking around. They were back at the car, and Sam was sitting on the ground next to him. Tears stained the kid's face as he watched him. Staring at him for a few seconds, Dean realized there was blood.
He reached out slowly with the hand he could move without wanting to pass out. Sam understood, shaking his head. "It only barely got me, Dean. It's no problem, I promise." How did they survive? Again, Sam read the question on his face. "Dad found the bones, and burned them. It almost took us too long to find you. If it weren't for your stupid shoe sticking out of the ground like that..." He broke off, looking down.
Dad moved to Dean's side as well. "Let me see that arm," he ordered, fitting the splint onto Dean when he complied. Then he stood up. "Let's get out of here. I can look at you both better at the motel." The two of them helped Dean to his feet, and Sam got him into the backseat before sliding in next to him, holding up a bottle of water.
And that was it. No 'Good job, boys,' or 'Thank God you two are okay.' It was just Sam and Dean, sitting together in the backseat, leaning on each other, taking comfort from each other. Just as it had always been.
----
The anti-demonic safe house was a small church in a small town just thirty miles from the city of Pontiac that held almost its entire population. He could feel when they approached the building, and if Jimmy had been any easier to control he would have stayed far, far away from it. If not running away like a little girl.
It was foul. There were so many things he was experiencing since he got out of Hell, both fascinating and horrifying, but this was something new. He made Jimmy watch the church so he could study it while the man said farewell to Amelia and Claire, not caring that he probably made the goodbye all the more uncomfortable. He could see a chalk line on the ground through the gate, but couldn't see exactly what it was. Of course, he knew about Devil's Traps, and perhaps that was part of what it was, but nobody ever told him if they caused such disgust. In fact, from all he heard it wasn't possible to sense one of these traps, so he couldn't even begin to guess what sort of power was hanging over this church.
Not that it mattered. He was getting as far away as possible as soon as Jimmy hurried the hell up. He felt Jimmy's annoyance at the thought, but didn't say anything.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, the goodbyes were over and the women fled to the church. They were met by a couple men carrying shotguns, who glared warily at the man down the street. He could see Amelia say something to them, and the four of them disappeared into the building.
"Okay," Jimmy said after a few minutes, turning and walking away. "Now what?"
"Now," the demon continued out loud, "We commandeer a vehicle and find me a vessel."
"Can you not take control of my mouth like that? I feel like I'm going insane!"
He growled, then fell silent. 'Is this better?' he thought, going on a theory.
Jimmy sounded surprised. "Yes, actually, that works great. We're going to steal a car?"
'You have any better ideas?'
"Forgive me." Jimmy aimed at the sky, then turned down a street.
It took a few minutes for him to pick out a suitable car with a full tank of gas, and he carefully instructed Jimmy how to break into it, but he fumbled when it came to actually hot-wiring it, so the demon took control long enough to futz with the wires. Within a half an hour, they were on their way.
'Nice family,' he said after a while, attempting to be nice since Jimmy actually agreed to help him.
Jimmy's lips pressed together in a thin, worried line. "Yes, they are. We were supposed to be on vacation this week." He sounded wistful, sad. "None of us actually thought the world would go to Hell. I mean, I am a religious man, but I did not think this -- you -- were real. I thought my life would just be normal. Selling ad time. Raising Claire." The demon was quiet while he talked, getting that sense of familiarity. "I know He wouldn't have had this happen to us without a reason. All I can do is move on and have faith that we'll survive." He licked his lips, wiped one hand over his eyes. "What about you? Do you have family?"
He thought about it. 'I don't remember.'
"What about a name? I never asked."
'...I don't have one.'
The sense of surprise was unexpected. "That's...I'm sorry. Everyone should have a name."
'It doesn't really bother me. I only have one purpose, and I don't need a name for that.'
"What purpose?"
He was silent for long enough that Jimmy started to give up on getting an answer, assuming it was some sort of demonic secret pact or something. 'I have to find Sam,' and that was all he would say on the subject.
They both fell silent as they drove. The highway was virtually empty. They saw two cars going the opposite way before he started feeling a faint pull, like one of those lights, but different, not the least because he shouldn't have that perception when he occupied a vessel. He pondered the sensation until it suddenly became too strong to ignore.
"Wait, stop!" he shouted, asserting his control over Jimmy's body, taking him by surprise long enough to hit the brakes on the car, skidding into the grass on the shoulder of the road, and throwing it into park. He was out of the car and heading towards the tree line when Jimmy recovered enough to make him stop.
"Hold on a minute, what are you doing?" The man asked, throwing his arms out as if that would help him keep control over his own body.
'Just, keep moving that way, Jimmy. Humor me.'
"Fine." He could feel his eyes roll, and they moved through the trees with the demon giving directions until they came to a small clearing. It was almost entirely unremarkable save for a wooden cross in the ground. "An unmarked grave." Jimmy remarked, curious.
He was even more curious than the human was, though. Something was pulling at him. 'There's a body down there.'
"You think?" The sarcasm was lost on him at that point.
'Wait here,' he ordered, leaving Jimmy's body and drifting down into the ground.
What he sunk into couldn't possibly be described as human in any sense of the word. More a pile of bones with rotten strips of flesh and other things clinging like slime. For a long while that was all he could feel. He had no other senses, not even his smoke form perceptions. This body that had called to him was falling to pieces, long dead, and he felt trapped. For the first time since he got out of Hell, above the exorcism, above the circle, above anything he could possibly think could ever happen to him, this was the worst, most horrible thing he had ever experienced.
He was unable to see, hear, or move, just able to feel the deterioration of this body. He was too horrified to escape back out, though if he thought of it he would have done it in an instant despite what he came here to do. He must have lain there for hours before he came back to himself, before he was able to gain control of the unfiltered terror being in this body brought up in him.
He finally became aware of a dull thumping from above him somewhere. 'Jimmy', he remembered. Jimmy was digging up the grave to make sure he could get out. He raised a hand to push against the wood paneling of the top of whatever he was in, and it occurred to him that he could actually move the limb. Not well, but a lot better than he could before. There was a louder thump, that he could clearly hear this time, and then suddenly light streamed into the box, dirt and chips of wood spilling down over his face.
"Shit!" he heard Jimmy swear from somewhere above him, followed by the sounds of something scrabbling over dirt. Then, from further away: "You stink!"
'Tell me something I don't know,' he tried to shoot back, but nothing came out of his throat. It took him a while to get the coordination necessary to pull himself out of the box, a bit more to figure out how to stand up, and even longer than that to learn how to climb out of the grave.
He could see Jimmy standing a few yards away, upwind, hand covering his mouth and nose in an attempt to block the rancid smell of death. Jimmy stared at him for several moments. "Now I know I don't remember signing up for Night of the Living Dead." The poor man somehow managed to look both pale and green at the same time. Now he was looking away, refusing to look at him.
Looking down, he moved his hand into view so he could see it through his limited vision. Flesh clung to the bone in clumps, meaty chunks of muscle and ligaments keeping his bones from falling apart. It was understandable that Jimmy wouldn't be able to look at him. If his hand looked that awful, the rest of him must look even worse. Especially if his stunted senses were anything to go by.
He had tunnel vision, the edges of his sight were black, and loose. His hearing was fragmented, Jimmy's voice coming across as disjointed echoes, though with a little thought he could figure out what he was saying easily enough. The other senses were almost completely nonexistent, though he could still feel the decay coating him like clothes, which were patched and rotting.
He opened his mouth to say something about it, but his voice still refused to work, his voice box having deteriorated badly. Frowning in frustration, he turned and started moving for the car, struggling to keep balance as his legs moved jerkily. It was almost as if he had to relearn how to walk.
Jimmy caught up, holding his shirt up over his face. "Okay, there is no way you're heading out into public looking like something people expect to crawl out of their nightmares." He gave him a look, since he couldn't reply. "Was this in any way a good idea? No, it wasn't."
He ignored Jimmy and kept marching until they returned to the car. Then he got stuck, because he realized his hand wouldn't work well enough to even open the door. There wasn't enough muscle to pull the door even if he could close his hand upon the handle.
Jimmy was on the other side of the car, leaning against the driver side door. "Listen, I am not driving you anywhere. Not even having the windows open all the way is going to keep that smell from making me black out halfway to town."
He was getting annoyed not being able to respond. He stared hard at Jimmy, feeling a sense of glee at seeing the man turn pale again.
"Okay. Okay. We have to think about this." Jimmy turned, pacing slightly. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, and then slid them down his face, looking up at the sky. "Lord help me, I'm talking to a corpse."
The comment made him snort, which was a surprise in and of itself. He looked down at himself, taking an experimental breath. A breath which failed before he got any air, but the attempt sent a strange pang through his chest that he didn't have a few minutes ago. Jimmy hadn't noticed. He looked at his hand again, staring incredulously at it. There was more muscle. More flesh. Less bone visible. He was healing. Tapping the roof of the car, he demanded Jimmy's attention, then held up the tattered shirt pointedly.
Jimmy stared at him for a few minutes. "Yeah, it's...just as gross as you, man." He stopped, watching the demon, trying not to focus on the gaping gaps of skin in its face. It really was a miracle that he hadn't gotten sick yet. Impatient, the demon shook his head, and gestured to himself before bringing attention back to the shirt. It took Jimmy a few minutes, but he finally got his point. "Oh, you're going to need... of course. How else are you going to hide the fact that you're rotting except by wearing new clothes? You realize no amount of cologne is going to help, right?" That earned another nightmarish glare. "Fine. You're trying to kill me, I got it." He took several deep breaths of mostly fresh air. "Sit in the back. You can't sit next to me on the way." Just to make his point, he walked around, holding his breath, and opened the back passenger door for him, before retreating to relatively clean air.
He settled himself in the car, quickly losing patience with this man, wishing he'd just shut up and suck it up. He couldn't exactly help the fact that he smelled. Sure, he could just abandon this body and ride Jimmy until he found a regular human to possess, but somehow this body felt...right. He couldn't explain it, even to himself, but now that he was out of the ground, and clearly healing, the more time passed, he could feel something he never remembered feeling before. Like he belonged here. There was a familiarity that he definitely hadn't had riding the bodies of strangers. Even better was the fact that he was completely alone in his head. No screaming humans, no Jimmy babbling in his head, asking his lord to forgive him for helping a demon.
It was almost...peaceful.
Finally, Jimmy climbed into the front seat, visibly fighting the urge to gag as he quickly rolled down all the windows, and turned the vents on full. "Okay, back to town. We'll find you some clothes. I'm sure those townspeople won't mind much, and then we can part ways. You have your...body, and I can get back to my family." Silence was his only reply, so he put the car in gear and pulled a U-turn, driving back the way he had come.
It took a surprisingly long time to get back to that small town. He didn't remember taking that long to reach the spot where the clearing was, but apparently he hadn't been paying attention. Not that he could fault himself, riding someone as a passenger instead of the driver was like a mini vacation where you couldn't control what you did. Probably a lot like what it felt like to be possessed if he cared to guess.
They made it back to town in the middle of the night, Jimmy parking a few streets down from the Church, but well out of sight in case anyone decided to patrol. He quickly got out, moving to the side and taking deep, solid breaths to steady himself.
It took him three or four tries to grasp the door handle and pull it, pleased to note that his arm responded easier, muscle stretching underneath his skin. Climbing out of the car was also easier. He stood next to the car, watching Jimmy recover. He still had no sense of smell, so he didn't know how bad it was, but he could imagine just how much he probably reeked. He remembered the smell of death.
"Okay," Jimmy straightened up, turning around. He opened his mouth to say something, paused, stared at him, and then visibly changed his mind about what to say. "You're healing."
'Thank you, Captain Obvious.' He said it as best he could with the expression on his face.
"How are you healing so fast? No, wait, never mind. I probably wouldn't want to know even if you could speak. If you ask me, you being able to heal a corpse is both wrong and completely terrifying. So..." Jimmy ran a hand through his hair. "I'm, uh, I'm going to go. You can probably break into one of these houses for some more clothes, not that I'm condoning illegal activities, but it's kind of the apocalypse, so I think someone's personal property takes a lower priority, and I'm rambling right now so I think I'll just head to the Church, and uh. Good luck? I guess. Finding this 'Sam'."
He nodded at Jimmy, still surprised that the man had helped him this far at all.
"Right. Bye." Jimmy turned and moved down the street, disappearing around the corner.
Flexing his fingers, the demon turned towards the nearest house and walking up to it, moving around to the back. He broke a window and clambered into the house, starting his search for something to wear before he finished healing and was nude in the middle of nowhere.
----
"I'm scared."
"Don't be scared, Sammy. I'm here with you."
"When will Dad be back, ----?"
"Soon, I promise."
-
"---n, I'm tired of this. I can't do it anymore."
-
"I'm sorry, okay?"
"I thought you were dead, Sam!"
"Well, I'm sorry, --an!"
-
"I can't believe you convinced me to do this. Dad is fine, I'm sure."
"Come on, Sam. You're just as concerned as I am. Right?"
"....yeah, -ean."
-
"No, Sam, nononono, come on, Sammy, stay with me!"
-
"How long you get?"
"...one year."
-
"You're not going to Hell, Dean."
-
"Dean!!"
----
He woke to screams and the smell of smoke. He had passed out on a couch, exhaustion consuming him soon after he found clothes to change into. His first attempt to sit up failed miserably as his back stuck to the leather. The second attempt succeeded after he put more effort to it, the couch releasing him with a soft tearing sound. A little dazed, he looked down at the couch, the leather stained with dried bits that he didn't care to identify.
The next thing he did after climbing to his feet was check his hands. There was more dried pus and what looked like diluted blood coating them, but underneath he could see bruised skin. He was in desperate need of a shower. His insides felt a little off still, but otherwise he was functioning.
Another piercing scream ripped through the hair, jerking him out of his daze. He moved quickly, heading outside only to find the air thick with black smoke. The screams were coming from the direction of the Church, he guessed, so he moved fast, turning the corner and stopping dead in the middle of the street. The Church was on fire, though it was less rolling flames and more thick with smoke. There was a thin crowd outside the church, carrying flares and torches, jeering at the building. Laughing at the screams. He noticed that they were very carefully standing outside the drawn lines.
Demons. They were trying to smoke the humans out of the Church, or failing that,: burn them alive.
People were leaving the Church, trying to stay inside the circle, but the unnaturally thick smoke was clouding the air. They wouldn't be able to stay inside the circle if they valued their oxygen.
He saw Jimmy pulling Amelia and Claire out of the building, holding them low in a crouch, his jacket over their heads. He bit his lip, thinking hard as he watched the goings on. Jimmy helped him longer than he promised to. The man could have left him in the middle of nowhere, but instead he helped him back to town. He was a demon, but that sort of action meant something to him. Or it used to.
Clenching his fists, he moved forward towards the group of demons, holding his hand up and concentrating. Three demons fell over before the rest of them noticed he was there, and suddenly he was in another fight.
Why was it that every fight he'd gotten into since he crawled his way out of Hell had nearly twice the amount of enemies that the previous fight did? He quickly realized that he was sorely outmatched this time. Between the weakness his corpse still felt, the proximity of the Holy spells, and just the sheer amount of demons he was fighting against, he realized quickly that he was going to lose this fight, but he spared a glance back at the Church, lowering his head in a tiny nod. This wasn't about winning, he admitted, it was about distracting the demons long enough for the humans to escape or put out the choking fire.
The demons seemed pissed to see him, snarling him and attacking him in an organized rush that he definitely didn't miss in the first two fights. These bastards obviously knew what they were doing, working together to take him out.
He managed to dodge the first few attacks, ducking under punches, and delivering blows into the other demons. His body was reacting like it was made for this sort of fighting. Reflexes were as good as they were in other vessels, and this one wasn't even whole.
His opponents, however, quickly judged his ability, spreading out to flank him on either side to force him to split his attention. He tried to keep an eye on them, but with two enemies keeping him busy in front, he couldn't break away before they surrounded him.
Taking a hit to the back of his knees, he collapsed, using the momentum of the fall to throw himself into a roll. Instead of immediately getting back to his feet, he launched forward into the legs of the nearest demon, tackling him to the ground, and scrambling over him. He socked him hard in the jaw, smirking at the crack of bone, and rolled again right over the vessel's body.
More were on him within seconds, grabbing him by the thin shirt he'd stolen, and dragging him to his feet. Snarling, he whirled, throwing his power out with his arm, knocking them over before they could get a good hold on him. Jumping over them, he retreated back into open space, protecting his back. His breath came in gasps. Warm blood was dripping down his legs from a wound on his back. He was getting weaker by the second. Yet they were wary of him, staying back to reassess him.
"Come on!" he rasped, pleased for a moment to hear his vocal chords working, if only a little. "I'm just gettin' warmed up."
One of the demons stepped forward, presumably the leader. Dean was even more pleased to note that this was the one he socked in the jaw, which made him sound funny when he tried to talk. "Yer a traitor to yer own kin'."
"Apparently. Tell me something I don't know,'' he shot back, taking a few steps back.
Then there was a strange hiss from the direction of the church and suddenly acid was falling from the air. That was the only way he could explain what it felt like as a small group of humans held fire hoses and released a stream of high- pressure holy water into the group. Demons shrieked and fled their hosts. Dean threw his arms up, his pained shout hoarse and panicked as the water touched him. Then just as suddenly he was moving, yanked hard enough out of the way of the water that he overbalanced, and toppled back to the ground, although this time he didn't have the sense or the angle to break his fall.
He looked at Jimmy sprawled on his ass next to him, surprise decorating his expression. The last of the demon's vessels was finally collapsing to the road, smoke retreating into the sky fast enough to disappear within seconds. Some of the bodies were still steaming from the effects of the vicious holy water. His own skin still burned from where he had been hit, but he had been spared the majority of the attack.
It seemed these humans were just as organized as the demons that had attacked them had been. Half the group was hauling water to the church, while the other half stood guard or operated the hoses. They kept an eye out for other demons, protecting the women and children who were trying to clear out the smoke. From his position nearly lying in the street, they could barely see him.
Jimmy was wiping water out of his face, looking as stunned that he had stepped in as he felt. From what he knew of this human, he never would have expected his help beyond what their original deal had been, but there he was. Pulling him away from the holy water. He kind of liked this human.
Rubbing at his skin where it started to itch, he slowly pushed himself to his feet, unaccustomed to the feeling of pain and exhaustion. His body was a little worse off now than it had been when he woke up, with the new wounds and the holy water rash, but he no longer looked quite like a walking corpse. Now to the casual observer it was more 'Man in desperate need of a hospital and a shower'. Not necessarily in that order.
Next to him, Jimmy climbed to his feet, looking a little awkward. They looked at each other for a few moments. Then he nodded. "Thanks." A shrug was his reply. "...what did you do that for?" He was unbelievably curious. Jimmy didn't really like him, after all. He had possessed his wife and then later on forced him to drive a car filled with the stench of death. He could have easily just let him get chased off with the rest of the demons.
Jimmy seemed to think about it, glancing worriedly at the Church where his family was watching them. "I don't know," he replied after a moment, honesty plain all over his face. "I just...you seemed different from...them. I'm probably making a big mistake not making sure every man in there knows you're a demon, but I can't do it. Truthfully, if it weren't for you, my family and I would never have made it here. We weren't even going in the right direction. Who knew how long it would have been until we found shelter, if we even got away from those demons alive? Finding you this...corpse...wasn't enough to pay that back. Now we're even."
That was...reasonable. He should have suspected an answer like that. Smirking, he scratched at his holy water burn, and nodded. "All right. Thank you." He turned to look at the Church as well, nodding his head at Amelia and Claire. The men were giving him odd looks, so he nodded at them as well and faced Jimmy again. "I should get out of here, before they get even more curious and try to get me to cross that barrier."
"Yeah." An awkward silence passed, Jimmy clearly wanting to go make sure his family was okay. "I should, ah...head back then. Let you get on your way. I'd say 'take care', but I don't like you that much."
He laughed at that. "Understandable. I wouldn't expect you to anyway." There was a shorter silence, and then he took a step away, Jimmy taking the cue to move as well. Before they could get too far away, though, he turned and called out. "Jimmy."
The human turned around, tilting his head as a question.
"My name," he said, feeling confident about his words. "It's 'Dean'." He'd forgotten his dream until now, but the name felt right in a way he couldn't explain. If nothing else, it was better than wandering around nameless. Maybe he could even find Sam easier this time around. With a name, he could pretend to be human.
Jimmy watched him for a minute. "Don't do anything evil, Dean." He cracked a smile, and turned back to the Church, the comment his farewell.
Dean laughed as he walked down the street towards the suburban house he'd temporarily taken over. First things first: a shower. Blood was sticking to his skin, as well as that liquid that he'd woken up lying in. The pain from his injuries was nonexistent now, and even the holy water burn wasn't itching as much as it had been a few minutes ago. His body wasn't entirely healed from being a corpse in the ground either, but several things had definitely improved. His general appearance, for one, flesh wasn't hanging from his bones. He looked like a solid human being at last, though he could swear there was a spot on his lower back he couldn't poke at to see if it was healed yet as well. It was almost as if it was mocking him.
The most important change from when he first passed out to now was the fact that his voice worked again. His voice was raspy, but understandable so long as he didn't whisper, yell, or sing hard metal rock while driving his newly hot-wired car out of Illinois.
----
~Part 3~
~Part 1~
-------
"All right, boys. Now you stick together and be careful." John Winchester handed them both a small pack with self- igniting flares and fixed each of them with a hard look. "This creature is one nasty son of a bitch, so you two take care of each other, you hear me? If you get separated, you both head back to the car as soon as you can, and leave the rest to me, all right?"
"Yes sir." Sam and Dean chorused, slinging their bags over their shoulders. They were both armed from head to toe to take out everything from squirrels to bear, though their target was closer to the latter than the former. A pissed off animal spirit had been violently rampaging its home forest, trying to keep people far far away. There were plans to bulldoze the entire forest to make room for a brand new highway, and while they could sympathize with the poor creature's plight they also couldn't let it slaughter any more innocent hikers and campers.
Of course, Sam had been especially vocal about the situation, quietly pleading with Dean whenever their Dad was out of earshot. "There has to be something else we can do, Dean. It's angry because it's going to lose its home."
"Sammy, I don't know what you want me to do." Dean wanted to turn away, to watch out the window for Dad and avoid the look on his brother's face before it broke his heart into itty bitty pieces.
"We could try to stop the destruction! Think about how many creatures this is going to kill anyway. It's not just about the spirit. Please, you have to try!" The kid had long gone through puberty, but his eyes were still lethal in the most pitiful way possible.
Dean sighed. "You know we can't do that."
The answer was confident, nearly limitless in its faith. "You're my brother, and you can do anything." There was a stubborn tone lying underneath the words as he turned to look out his own window. Their Dad had returned.
Dean really wasn't unsympathetic to the whole situation. The only reason any of this was happening was because some idiot decided ripping up nature was less of an expense than going around the damn thing in the first place. What did they need a new highway for anyway? Why couldn't they just fix the existing roads? People died because of stupidity like this.
Standing now next to Sam, ready to split up from their dad and hunt a dead creature that had mutilated thirteen people in the past month, Dean had to remember that there was nothing else they could do. This spirit had already gone ballistic. There was no calming it down or finding it a new place to live, and while maybe, just maybe getting the construction to go elsewhere could have done something, the Winchester family didn't need the attention talking to bigwigs like that would have brought upon them. They had no other options than to find out how to stop this spirit.
They watched their Dad head off into the forest first. He was going to try and distract the creature while they searched for its bones. There was one major problem with this plan, Dean knew. In an entire forest how easy did they really think it was going to be to find one set of animal bones?
"Can we really do this, Dean?" Sam asked, taking a deep breath. They both knew they'd be targets for this thing the moment they entered the woods.
Dean wrapped his arm around him, tugging him close for a moment before letting go. "We have to, Sammy. Dad's counting on us." They looked at each other, shared a nod, and simultaneously cocked their shotguns.
Their only saving grace was that there were parts of the forest where the spirit hunted most of its victims. Dad had figured that its bones had to be located in the center of the mutilation pattern. Gruesome idea, but that was as good a place to start as any. Sam was in charge of the map, which he pulled out to double check their position. They were giving Dad a little time to distract the spirit so they could move in.
"All right, let's do this,." Dean finally said. Sam pointed to the left side path and they moved into the forest. The sun was quickly blocked by the tree canopy, but the brothers were secure in their steps, used to all kinds of darkness as a consequence of their job. Dean gripped his shotgun a little tighter, eyes searching the shadows for any signs of the spirit, just in case. He figured Dad was well into its territory by now, but he didn't hear any gunshots or anything of the sort to tell him that a distraction was taking place. It was possible that there were just too many trees for the sound to carry, or perhaps their target wasn't taking the bait. Either way he knew they had to be careful.
"Dean, we're getting close. One of the victims was caught just down this side path here." Sam said, his words muffled by a penlight he held precariously between his lips in order to read the map while Dean watched his back. He pointed to what he could only describe as a deer path through the trees, nothing more than trampled foliage. "Which means the campsite that was ravaged can't be too far ahead." The kid put the map away, good enough with directions to keep them from getting horribly lost.
For the next few minutes there was absolute silence between them. They'd worked often enough the last few years, both through training and actual jobs, that they didn't need to talk. Everything was automatic, effortless. They had their own language of looks and gestures that suited them well in situations where they couldn't draw too much attention to themselves. This was how they moved now, guarding each other as they came upon the campsite and moved through it. Park rangers had long since cleaned the area as much as they could, deeming it an unfortunate accident, so there wasn't much in the way of gore or smell, but the sense of violence lingered in the ground.
Dean followed Sam, keeping an eye out behind them as his brother led the way into the forest, judging the distance in his head. He was good at weird things like that. Useful things, but weird. For the first ten minutes, everything was fine and dandy. Quiet. Until suddenly it was too quiet. They both stopped moving, straining to see in the dim light. "Dean?" Sam questioned softly.
"Yeah," Dean agreed, just as quiet, nothing more than a whisper of air past his lips. No birds were chirping. No bugs were buzzing. Just dead silence.
"Guess Dad couldn't distract it..." They were back to back now, shotguns held at the ready.
"Guess not."
"What are we going to do?"
Dean grit his teeth, securing his grip on his gun. "You're going to find and burn those bones." Then, without further warning, he shot off into the trees, shouting. "Come and get me, bitch!"
He expected it would come out of hiding to chase him, but knowing this, and actually hearing the ear shattering roar shake the Earth not far from him was almost enough to make him wet himself. It probably would have if he weren't Dean Winchester and above such signs of weakness. Foliage was crushed under large feet as the animal chased him, knocking into, and through, everything in its way as it tried to catch up. He wasn't a novice to running from dangerous things, however. The spirit would have a harder time catching him than it did any of the other, weaker victims. The only real good thing about the situation he quickly found himself in was that the creature was chasing him and not his brother.
Still, it was a very small consolation, he found out, for the spirit could just barrel through whatever it wanted, sometimes corporeal, sometimes not, and Dean had no idea where he was trying to go. He could hear it gaining on him as he leaped over bushes and logs, tried quick turns that failed miserably as the spirit just turned with him, not having to worry about momentum as much as Dean did, if at all. Getting desperate, he spun on his heels, brought his shotgun to bear, and shot the thing right in its face as it opened its mouth wide to take a big bite out of him. It vanished with an ugly cry, and Dean fell to the ground, grateful for the breather.
"That's one massively pissed off ghost," Dean mumbled to himself as he got to his feet.
There came a crashing sound from the way he had come, and he raised his shotgun warily, only to hear Sam calling him from the darkness. "Dean!"
"Here, Sammy. It's okay, I got it for no-" It felt like he'd been hit by a truck as a larger than life paw crashed into his side from behind, sending him flying like a rag doll into the darkness. He hit a tree, heard the crack of bone, and hit the ground hard. The ground collapsed underneath him and he sunk into the ground between the tree's root, the small hole quickly filling in with dirt shook loose from the spirit's heavy, thumping steps as it searched for him.
He couldn't breathe. That was the first thing he noticed. The second was that he didn't know where the ground was or which way was up. His arm was broken, the other stuck beneath him at an angle that promised similar pain as he tried to move, and who knew what was going on with his legs. He tried holding what breath he still had after getting it knocked out of him, remembering with a growing sense of frantic horror that Sammy was up there without him, left to that spirit's wicked vengeance.
His lungs were burning. Cold damp earth pressed into him from all sides. He shifted his head, thrashing without thinking with the need to breathe. The movement jerked both arms and even knocked his head against what he could only assume later to have been one of the tree's root. Letting out a short, sharp cry at the pain, he inhaled, his mouth filling with soil. Choking, he wriggled desperately, no longer caring if he broke both arms, no longer feeling the pain. Just desperate for oxygen. He was trapped, helpless, and dying.
Quickly beginning to feel lightheaded, Dean never noticed the suddenly rush of heat, nor two pairs of hands scrabbling at the dirt around his knees. By the time he was aware again, he was miraculously outside the forest, squinting in the evening sunlight. Sitting up suddenly, he simultaneously groaned and inhaled, and then coughed immediately after, his throat raw.
"Hey, take it easy, will you?" Dad, he recognized, dizzily looking around. They were back at the car, and Sam was sitting on the ground next to him. Tears stained the kid's face as he watched him. Staring at him for a few seconds, Dean realized there was blood.
He reached out slowly with the hand he could move without wanting to pass out. Sam understood, shaking his head. "It only barely got me, Dean. It's no problem, I promise." How did they survive? Again, Sam read the question on his face. "Dad found the bones, and burned them. It almost took us too long to find you. If it weren't for your stupid shoe sticking out of the ground like that..." He broke off, looking down.
Dad moved to Dean's side as well. "Let me see that arm," he ordered, fitting the splint onto Dean when he complied. Then he stood up. "Let's get out of here. I can look at you both better at the motel." The two of them helped Dean to his feet, and Sam got him into the backseat before sliding in next to him, holding up a bottle of water.
And that was it. No 'Good job, boys,' or 'Thank God you two are okay.' It was just Sam and Dean, sitting together in the backseat, leaning on each other, taking comfort from each other. Just as it had always been.
----
The anti-demonic safe house was a small church in a small town just thirty miles from the city of Pontiac that held almost its entire population. He could feel when they approached the building, and if Jimmy had been any easier to control he would have stayed far, far away from it. If not running away like a little girl.
It was foul. There were so many things he was experiencing since he got out of Hell, both fascinating and horrifying, but this was something new. He made Jimmy watch the church so he could study it while the man said farewell to Amelia and Claire, not caring that he probably made the goodbye all the more uncomfortable. He could see a chalk line on the ground through the gate, but couldn't see exactly what it was. Of course, he knew about Devil's Traps, and perhaps that was part of what it was, but nobody ever told him if they caused such disgust. In fact, from all he heard it wasn't possible to sense one of these traps, so he couldn't even begin to guess what sort of power was hanging over this church.
Not that it mattered. He was getting as far away as possible as soon as Jimmy hurried the hell up. He felt Jimmy's annoyance at the thought, but didn't say anything.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, the goodbyes were over and the women fled to the church. They were met by a couple men carrying shotguns, who glared warily at the man down the street. He could see Amelia say something to them, and the four of them disappeared into the building.
"Okay," Jimmy said after a few minutes, turning and walking away. "Now what?"
"Now," the demon continued out loud, "We commandeer a vehicle and find me a vessel."
"Can you not take control of my mouth like that? I feel like I'm going insane!"
He growled, then fell silent. 'Is this better?' he thought, going on a theory.
Jimmy sounded surprised. "Yes, actually, that works great. We're going to steal a car?"
'You have any better ideas?'
"Forgive me." Jimmy aimed at the sky, then turned down a street.
It took a few minutes for him to pick out a suitable car with a full tank of gas, and he carefully instructed Jimmy how to break into it, but he fumbled when it came to actually hot-wiring it, so the demon took control long enough to futz with the wires. Within a half an hour, they were on their way.
'Nice family,' he said after a while, attempting to be nice since Jimmy actually agreed to help him.
Jimmy's lips pressed together in a thin, worried line. "Yes, they are. We were supposed to be on vacation this week." He sounded wistful, sad. "None of us actually thought the world would go to Hell. I mean, I am a religious man, but I did not think this -- you -- were real. I thought my life would just be normal. Selling ad time. Raising Claire." The demon was quiet while he talked, getting that sense of familiarity. "I know He wouldn't have had this happen to us without a reason. All I can do is move on and have faith that we'll survive." He licked his lips, wiped one hand over his eyes. "What about you? Do you have family?"
He thought about it. 'I don't remember.'
"What about a name? I never asked."
'...I don't have one.'
The sense of surprise was unexpected. "That's...I'm sorry. Everyone should have a name."
'It doesn't really bother me. I only have one purpose, and I don't need a name for that.'
"What purpose?"
He was silent for long enough that Jimmy started to give up on getting an answer, assuming it was some sort of demonic secret pact or something. 'I have to find Sam,' and that was all he would say on the subject.
They both fell silent as they drove. The highway was virtually empty. They saw two cars going the opposite way before he started feeling a faint pull, like one of those lights, but different, not the least because he shouldn't have that perception when he occupied a vessel. He pondered the sensation until it suddenly became too strong to ignore.
"Wait, stop!" he shouted, asserting his control over Jimmy's body, taking him by surprise long enough to hit the brakes on the car, skidding into the grass on the shoulder of the road, and throwing it into park. He was out of the car and heading towards the tree line when Jimmy recovered enough to make him stop.
"Hold on a minute, what are you doing?" The man asked, throwing his arms out as if that would help him keep control over his own body.
'Just, keep moving that way, Jimmy. Humor me.'
"Fine." He could feel his eyes roll, and they moved through the trees with the demon giving directions until they came to a small clearing. It was almost entirely unremarkable save for a wooden cross in the ground. "An unmarked grave." Jimmy remarked, curious.
He was even more curious than the human was, though. Something was pulling at him. 'There's a body down there.'
"You think?" The sarcasm was lost on him at that point.
'Wait here,' he ordered, leaving Jimmy's body and drifting down into the ground.
What he sunk into couldn't possibly be described as human in any sense of the word. More a pile of bones with rotten strips of flesh and other things clinging like slime. For a long while that was all he could feel. He had no other senses, not even his smoke form perceptions. This body that had called to him was falling to pieces, long dead, and he felt trapped. For the first time since he got out of Hell, above the exorcism, above the circle, above anything he could possibly think could ever happen to him, this was the worst, most horrible thing he had ever experienced.
He was unable to see, hear, or move, just able to feel the deterioration of this body. He was too horrified to escape back out, though if he thought of it he would have done it in an instant despite what he came here to do. He must have lain there for hours before he came back to himself, before he was able to gain control of the unfiltered terror being in this body brought up in him.
He finally became aware of a dull thumping from above him somewhere. 'Jimmy', he remembered. Jimmy was digging up the grave to make sure he could get out. He raised a hand to push against the wood paneling of the top of whatever he was in, and it occurred to him that he could actually move the limb. Not well, but a lot better than he could before. There was a louder thump, that he could clearly hear this time, and then suddenly light streamed into the box, dirt and chips of wood spilling down over his face.
"Shit!" he heard Jimmy swear from somewhere above him, followed by the sounds of something scrabbling over dirt. Then, from further away: "You stink!"
'Tell me something I don't know,' he tried to shoot back, but nothing came out of his throat. It took him a while to get the coordination necessary to pull himself out of the box, a bit more to figure out how to stand up, and even longer than that to learn how to climb out of the grave.
He could see Jimmy standing a few yards away, upwind, hand covering his mouth and nose in an attempt to block the rancid smell of death. Jimmy stared at him for several moments. "Now I know I don't remember signing up for Night of the Living Dead." The poor man somehow managed to look both pale and green at the same time. Now he was looking away, refusing to look at him.
Looking down, he moved his hand into view so he could see it through his limited vision. Flesh clung to the bone in clumps, meaty chunks of muscle and ligaments keeping his bones from falling apart. It was understandable that Jimmy wouldn't be able to look at him. If his hand looked that awful, the rest of him must look even worse. Especially if his stunted senses were anything to go by.
He had tunnel vision, the edges of his sight were black, and loose. His hearing was fragmented, Jimmy's voice coming across as disjointed echoes, though with a little thought he could figure out what he was saying easily enough. The other senses were almost completely nonexistent, though he could still feel the decay coating him like clothes, which were patched and rotting.
He opened his mouth to say something about it, but his voice still refused to work, his voice box having deteriorated badly. Frowning in frustration, he turned and started moving for the car, struggling to keep balance as his legs moved jerkily. It was almost as if he had to relearn how to walk.
Jimmy caught up, holding his shirt up over his face. "Okay, there is no way you're heading out into public looking like something people expect to crawl out of their nightmares." He gave him a look, since he couldn't reply. "Was this in any way a good idea? No, it wasn't."
He ignored Jimmy and kept marching until they returned to the car. Then he got stuck, because he realized his hand wouldn't work well enough to even open the door. There wasn't enough muscle to pull the door even if he could close his hand upon the handle.
Jimmy was on the other side of the car, leaning against the driver side door. "Listen, I am not driving you anywhere. Not even having the windows open all the way is going to keep that smell from making me black out halfway to town."
He was getting annoyed not being able to respond. He stared hard at Jimmy, feeling a sense of glee at seeing the man turn pale again.
"Okay. Okay. We have to think about this." Jimmy turned, pacing slightly. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, and then slid them down his face, looking up at the sky. "Lord help me, I'm talking to a corpse."
The comment made him snort, which was a surprise in and of itself. He looked down at himself, taking an experimental breath. A breath which failed before he got any air, but the attempt sent a strange pang through his chest that he didn't have a few minutes ago. Jimmy hadn't noticed. He looked at his hand again, staring incredulously at it. There was more muscle. More flesh. Less bone visible. He was healing. Tapping the roof of the car, he demanded Jimmy's attention, then held up the tattered shirt pointedly.
Jimmy stared at him for a few minutes. "Yeah, it's...just as gross as you, man." He stopped, watching the demon, trying not to focus on the gaping gaps of skin in its face. It really was a miracle that he hadn't gotten sick yet. Impatient, the demon shook his head, and gestured to himself before bringing attention back to the shirt. It took Jimmy a few minutes, but he finally got his point. "Oh, you're going to need... of course. How else are you going to hide the fact that you're rotting except by wearing new clothes? You realize no amount of cologne is going to help, right?" That earned another nightmarish glare. "Fine. You're trying to kill me, I got it." He took several deep breaths of mostly fresh air. "Sit in the back. You can't sit next to me on the way." Just to make his point, he walked around, holding his breath, and opened the back passenger door for him, before retreating to relatively clean air.
He settled himself in the car, quickly losing patience with this man, wishing he'd just shut up and suck it up. He couldn't exactly help the fact that he smelled. Sure, he could just abandon this body and ride Jimmy until he found a regular human to possess, but somehow this body felt...right. He couldn't explain it, even to himself, but now that he was out of the ground, and clearly healing, the more time passed, he could feel something he never remembered feeling before. Like he belonged here. There was a familiarity that he definitely hadn't had riding the bodies of strangers. Even better was the fact that he was completely alone in his head. No screaming humans, no Jimmy babbling in his head, asking his lord to forgive him for helping a demon.
It was almost...peaceful.
Finally, Jimmy climbed into the front seat, visibly fighting the urge to gag as he quickly rolled down all the windows, and turned the vents on full. "Okay, back to town. We'll find you some clothes. I'm sure those townspeople won't mind much, and then we can part ways. You have your...body, and I can get back to my family." Silence was his only reply, so he put the car in gear and pulled a U-turn, driving back the way he had come.
It took a surprisingly long time to get back to that small town. He didn't remember taking that long to reach the spot where the clearing was, but apparently he hadn't been paying attention. Not that he could fault himself, riding someone as a passenger instead of the driver was like a mini vacation where you couldn't control what you did. Probably a lot like what it felt like to be possessed if he cared to guess.
They made it back to town in the middle of the night, Jimmy parking a few streets down from the Church, but well out of sight in case anyone decided to patrol. He quickly got out, moving to the side and taking deep, solid breaths to steady himself.
It took him three or four tries to grasp the door handle and pull it, pleased to note that his arm responded easier, muscle stretching underneath his skin. Climbing out of the car was also easier. He stood next to the car, watching Jimmy recover. He still had no sense of smell, so he didn't know how bad it was, but he could imagine just how much he probably reeked. He remembered the smell of death.
"Okay," Jimmy straightened up, turning around. He opened his mouth to say something, paused, stared at him, and then visibly changed his mind about what to say. "You're healing."
'Thank you, Captain Obvious.' He said it as best he could with the expression on his face.
"How are you healing so fast? No, wait, never mind. I probably wouldn't want to know even if you could speak. If you ask me, you being able to heal a corpse is both wrong and completely terrifying. So..." Jimmy ran a hand through his hair. "I'm, uh, I'm going to go. You can probably break into one of these houses for some more clothes, not that I'm condoning illegal activities, but it's kind of the apocalypse, so I think someone's personal property takes a lower priority, and I'm rambling right now so I think I'll just head to the Church, and uh. Good luck? I guess. Finding this 'Sam'."
He nodded at Jimmy, still surprised that the man had helped him this far at all.
"Right. Bye." Jimmy turned and moved down the street, disappearing around the corner.
Flexing his fingers, the demon turned towards the nearest house and walking up to it, moving around to the back. He broke a window and clambered into the house, starting his search for something to wear before he finished healing and was nude in the middle of nowhere.
----
"I'm scared."
"Don't be scared, Sammy. I'm here with you."
"When will Dad be back, ----?"
"Soon, I promise."
-
"---n, I'm tired of this. I can't do it anymore."
-
"I'm sorry, okay?"
"I thought you were dead, Sam!"
"Well, I'm sorry, --an!"
-
"I can't believe you convinced me to do this. Dad is fine, I'm sure."
"Come on, Sam. You're just as concerned as I am. Right?"
"....yeah, -ean."
-
"No, Sam, nononono, come on, Sammy, stay with me!"
-
"How long you get?"
"...one year."
-
"You're not going to Hell, Dean."
-
"Dean!!"
----
He woke to screams and the smell of smoke. He had passed out on a couch, exhaustion consuming him soon after he found clothes to change into. His first attempt to sit up failed miserably as his back stuck to the leather. The second attempt succeeded after he put more effort to it, the couch releasing him with a soft tearing sound. A little dazed, he looked down at the couch, the leather stained with dried bits that he didn't care to identify.
The next thing he did after climbing to his feet was check his hands. There was more dried pus and what looked like diluted blood coating them, but underneath he could see bruised skin. He was in desperate need of a shower. His insides felt a little off still, but otherwise he was functioning.
Another piercing scream ripped through the hair, jerking him out of his daze. He moved quickly, heading outside only to find the air thick with black smoke. The screams were coming from the direction of the Church, he guessed, so he moved fast, turning the corner and stopping dead in the middle of the street. The Church was on fire, though it was less rolling flames and more thick with smoke. There was a thin crowd outside the church, carrying flares and torches, jeering at the building. Laughing at the screams. He noticed that they were very carefully standing outside the drawn lines.
Demons. They were trying to smoke the humans out of the Church, or failing that,: burn them alive.
People were leaving the Church, trying to stay inside the circle, but the unnaturally thick smoke was clouding the air. They wouldn't be able to stay inside the circle if they valued their oxygen.
He saw Jimmy pulling Amelia and Claire out of the building, holding them low in a crouch, his jacket over their heads. He bit his lip, thinking hard as he watched the goings on. Jimmy helped him longer than he promised to. The man could have left him in the middle of nowhere, but instead he helped him back to town. He was a demon, but that sort of action meant something to him. Or it used to.
Clenching his fists, he moved forward towards the group of demons, holding his hand up and concentrating. Three demons fell over before the rest of them noticed he was there, and suddenly he was in another fight.
Why was it that every fight he'd gotten into since he crawled his way out of Hell had nearly twice the amount of enemies that the previous fight did? He quickly realized that he was sorely outmatched this time. Between the weakness his corpse still felt, the proximity of the Holy spells, and just the sheer amount of demons he was fighting against, he realized quickly that he was going to lose this fight, but he spared a glance back at the Church, lowering his head in a tiny nod. This wasn't about winning, he admitted, it was about distracting the demons long enough for the humans to escape or put out the choking fire.
The demons seemed pissed to see him, snarling him and attacking him in an organized rush that he definitely didn't miss in the first two fights. These bastards obviously knew what they were doing, working together to take him out.
He managed to dodge the first few attacks, ducking under punches, and delivering blows into the other demons. His body was reacting like it was made for this sort of fighting. Reflexes were as good as they were in other vessels, and this one wasn't even whole.
His opponents, however, quickly judged his ability, spreading out to flank him on either side to force him to split his attention. He tried to keep an eye on them, but with two enemies keeping him busy in front, he couldn't break away before they surrounded him.
Taking a hit to the back of his knees, he collapsed, using the momentum of the fall to throw himself into a roll. Instead of immediately getting back to his feet, he launched forward into the legs of the nearest demon, tackling him to the ground, and scrambling over him. He socked him hard in the jaw, smirking at the crack of bone, and rolled again right over the vessel's body.
More were on him within seconds, grabbing him by the thin shirt he'd stolen, and dragging him to his feet. Snarling, he whirled, throwing his power out with his arm, knocking them over before they could get a good hold on him. Jumping over them, he retreated back into open space, protecting his back. His breath came in gasps. Warm blood was dripping down his legs from a wound on his back. He was getting weaker by the second. Yet they were wary of him, staying back to reassess him.
"Come on!" he rasped, pleased for a moment to hear his vocal chords working, if only a little. "I'm just gettin' warmed up."
One of the demons stepped forward, presumably the leader. Dean was even more pleased to note that this was the one he socked in the jaw, which made him sound funny when he tried to talk. "Yer a traitor to yer own kin'."
"Apparently. Tell me something I don't know,'' he shot back, taking a few steps back.
Then there was a strange hiss from the direction of the church and suddenly acid was falling from the air. That was the only way he could explain what it felt like as a small group of humans held fire hoses and released a stream of high- pressure holy water into the group. Demons shrieked and fled their hosts. Dean threw his arms up, his pained shout hoarse and panicked as the water touched him. Then just as suddenly he was moving, yanked hard enough out of the way of the water that he overbalanced, and toppled back to the ground, although this time he didn't have the sense or the angle to break his fall.
He looked at Jimmy sprawled on his ass next to him, surprise decorating his expression. The last of the demon's vessels was finally collapsing to the road, smoke retreating into the sky fast enough to disappear within seconds. Some of the bodies were still steaming from the effects of the vicious holy water. His own skin still burned from where he had been hit, but he had been spared the majority of the attack.
It seemed these humans were just as organized as the demons that had attacked them had been. Half the group was hauling water to the church, while the other half stood guard or operated the hoses. They kept an eye out for other demons, protecting the women and children who were trying to clear out the smoke. From his position nearly lying in the street, they could barely see him.
Jimmy was wiping water out of his face, looking as stunned that he had stepped in as he felt. From what he knew of this human, he never would have expected his help beyond what their original deal had been, but there he was. Pulling him away from the holy water. He kind of liked this human.
Rubbing at his skin where it started to itch, he slowly pushed himself to his feet, unaccustomed to the feeling of pain and exhaustion. His body was a little worse off now than it had been when he woke up, with the new wounds and the holy water rash, but he no longer looked quite like a walking corpse. Now to the casual observer it was more 'Man in desperate need of a hospital and a shower'. Not necessarily in that order.
Next to him, Jimmy climbed to his feet, looking a little awkward. They looked at each other for a few moments. Then he nodded. "Thanks." A shrug was his reply. "...what did you do that for?" He was unbelievably curious. Jimmy didn't really like him, after all. He had possessed his wife and then later on forced him to drive a car filled with the stench of death. He could have easily just let him get chased off with the rest of the demons.
Jimmy seemed to think about it, glancing worriedly at the Church where his family was watching them. "I don't know," he replied after a moment, honesty plain all over his face. "I just...you seemed different from...them. I'm probably making a big mistake not making sure every man in there knows you're a demon, but I can't do it. Truthfully, if it weren't for you, my family and I would never have made it here. We weren't even going in the right direction. Who knew how long it would have been until we found shelter, if we even got away from those demons alive? Finding you this...corpse...wasn't enough to pay that back. Now we're even."
That was...reasonable. He should have suspected an answer like that. Smirking, he scratched at his holy water burn, and nodded. "All right. Thank you." He turned to look at the Church as well, nodding his head at Amelia and Claire. The men were giving him odd looks, so he nodded at them as well and faced Jimmy again. "I should get out of here, before they get even more curious and try to get me to cross that barrier."
"Yeah." An awkward silence passed, Jimmy clearly wanting to go make sure his family was okay. "I should, ah...head back then. Let you get on your way. I'd say 'take care', but I don't like you that much."
He laughed at that. "Understandable. I wouldn't expect you to anyway." There was a shorter silence, and then he took a step away, Jimmy taking the cue to move as well. Before they could get too far away, though, he turned and called out. "Jimmy."
The human turned around, tilting his head as a question.
"My name," he said, feeling confident about his words. "It's 'Dean'." He'd forgotten his dream until now, but the name felt right in a way he couldn't explain. If nothing else, it was better than wandering around nameless. Maybe he could even find Sam easier this time around. With a name, he could pretend to be human.
Jimmy watched him for a minute. "Don't do anything evil, Dean." He cracked a smile, and turned back to the Church, the comment his farewell.
Dean laughed as he walked down the street towards the suburban house he'd temporarily taken over. First things first: a shower. Blood was sticking to his skin, as well as that liquid that he'd woken up lying in. The pain from his injuries was nonexistent now, and even the holy water burn wasn't itching as much as it had been a few minutes ago. His body wasn't entirely healed from being a corpse in the ground either, but several things had definitely improved. His general appearance, for one, flesh wasn't hanging from his bones. He looked like a solid human being at last, though he could swear there was a spot on his lower back he couldn't poke at to see if it was healed yet as well. It was almost as if it was mocking him.
The most important change from when he first passed out to now was the fact that his voice worked again. His voice was raspy, but understandable so long as he didn't whisper, yell, or sing hard metal rock while driving his newly hot-wired car out of Illinois.
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~Part 3~