Shadow Of The Valley Of Death
A loud knock pervaded from the door and echoed off the walls of the shack. Sam snapped his eyes from the voluminous book he was reading and looked at his brother. Dean returned his stared with a questioning scowl.
"I thought you said no one knew where we're," whispered Dean.
"So did I. I told no one," spat Sam. "Did you?"
Dean ignored. He stood and shut the lid of his laptop instead and pulled out a pistol from the holster on his waist. Sam stooped and pulled a kris from his black boots. He brushed stray locks of his dirty blonde hair from his face and signalled for Dean to get behind the door. He held his wavy-edged blade behind his back and walked to the door.
"Who is it?" yelled Sam.
"Sam?"
Sam started at the sound of his name. He didn't recognise the deep voice that seemed to reverberate in the cold air. He gaped at Dean. Dean merely shrugged.
"I said who is it."
"Open the door, you deranged cur!" yelled the man. "I can get ripped apart while I stand here like I know not what I came for."
Sam gripped his knife tighter and walked to the door. Hesitating, he swung the door open.
A man stood silhouetted against the silvery light of the full moon. His face was enshrouded in shadows of his black cowl. Sam's pulse quickened as he felt eyes fixed on. He doubted his tiny knife would be any help against a man of such an impressive stature.
"I am Zuidema," replied the man. He pushed Sam out of his path and walked through the doorway, his black robes billowing behind him. With his back to the door, he said, "Point that gun somewhere else, Dean. Or you might end up hurting yourself."
"What are you?" said Dean. He advanced towards the stranger, his chest puffed out. "I'll shoot you dead where you stand."
"I would really want to see you try."
A scowl shadowed Dean's emerald eyes. He squeezed the trigger and braced himself for the roar that came with the pull.
Nothing.
"Dean, you keep an unloaded gun when we are demon hunters?" said Sam angrily.
"I swear it's loaded."
Sam shook his head and held the kris in front of him, poised to stab the man at the slightest hint of movement.
"The gun is loaded, Sam," said Zuidema, his voice barely audible. "When you are done with your foolery I need you to listen to me. And your knife will kill you in my stead if you try to stab me."
Sam and Dean exchanged uneasy glances. Sam's chest now heaved, his shirt gaping open with each breath to reveal his chiselled chest.
"How is it you can see us when you have your back to us?" Dean asked.
"I couldn't see you even if I were facing you." The man slowly turned and pulled down his cowl. The orange light of the candles fell on his face to reveal his swarthy skin. His eyes were cloudy and glazed over.
"Y-You're blind," stammered Dean.
"Really," gasped Zuidema in feigned surprise. "I had never noticed."
"What do you want?" demanded Sam.
"I want your help," Zuidema told them. "Franklin Smith is after me."
"Who is he?" asked Dean.
"I believe you mean what he is." Zuidema spoke in a slow manner, as if he carefully chose each word. "He is a leviathan."
Sam gulped and staggered backwards as he heard the last word. Dean gaped at his brother. He could not pretend to understand why Sam looked so terrified. He asked.
"They are the first creatures God created. They can possess people and shapeshift," explained Sam, his widened eyes fixed on Zuidema's unblinking ones. "They're all evil with a mouth full of fangs. They're the most brutal killing machines. Ever."
Dean smirked. "I'm sure we've battled monsters worse than that."
"No, Dean. We'ven't." Sam looked down at his boots. "They can regenerate and, worst of all, you can't ever kill one."
"I am glad you are intelligent." Zuidema gave a lopsided smile.
"Wait a minute!" Sam shouted. "How did this Franklin Smith get outta Purgatory!"
"I'm a wizard. I summoned him."
"You say that so calmly like you're talking about ice cream," snapped Dean. "I say we let this Franklin character waste him! Why should we help? It's none of our beeswax!"
"Oh, but it is," said Zuidema, folding his hands across his broad chest. "When Franklin's done with me, he's coming after you."
"Why?" Dean rammed his foot in the floor and shoved the gun in Zuidema's face. "Tell us everything, bitch."
"Well, I see no need for name calling, but I shall explain anyway." He took a long breath and let it out slowly. "I was working a spell —"
A deafening crush stopped the wizard amid speech. The splintery door flew open and clear of its hinges. Sam and Dean spun, weapons raised, and saw a cloaked figure that towered in the doorway. The wavering candlelight shined on him and his skin, which was darker than the blackness of midnight, heightened the sharpness of his long fangs.
The leviathan.
"Ain't this the best!" said Franklin. "All y'all li'l whores in one place. Now, this is your end."