KNIGHT IN TARNISHED ARMOR
A Supernatural story by:
Silvertayl
Disclaimer:
All recognisable characters remain the property of their respective creators and owners.
Beta:
msokiedokie
Story Notes:
Spoilers for season 5
Set immediately after 5:6 I Believe the Children are our Future.
Not a death fiction story.
Story Summary:
Dean thought it sounded like a simple enough hunt. But when was anything simple when your surname was Winchester? A simple salt and burn near the small town of Gerty, Oklahoma turns to disaster for the Winchester Brothers.
Teaser
"What the hell happened to you boy and where the hell is your brother?" His voice to his own ears sounded laced with fear and dread.
At last Sam spoke; his voice so quiet and filled with emotion, Bobby had to lean forward to hear the halting words. "Dean… Bobby…he's… he's dead."
Bobby stared up at him. Sam's face crumpled and twisted with inner agony a moment before he folded up like a stack of cards in front of Bobby's wheelchair, his head coming to rest on his lap; hands clenched in Bobby's jeans, body pressed up against his useless legs.
Bobby laid one hand on Sam's dirty, messy hair and one on his trembling back as he sobbed out his misery.
His throat closed choking him with emotion, tears filled his eyes, spilling over and quickly becoming a flood raining down on the back of Sam's head.
Chapter 1: A Simple Salt and Burn.
Ada, Oklahoma
Dan Barker pulled the crumpled piece of note paper from his pocket looked down at the hastily scribbled name and phone number on the sheet from an office note pad. The woman had called him at the office this morning it wasn't until Dan had hung up that he realized she hadn't given him her name. He was running out of options; had run out of options.
Desperate people do desperate things and he was now desperate apart from burning the place down and claiming on the insurance what other choice did he have. Dan might be what some would call a shrewd and ruthless business man but he could never stoop to arson.
Dan poured himself his fourth Jim Beam of the evening drank it down in one swallow picked up the phone and rang Bobby Singer.
KITA
Alliance, Nebraska
It was silent in the car as they left Alliance both of them lost in their own thoughts about the kid, Jesse Turner.
Dean broke the silence. "Ya think Jesse's gonna be okay?"
"I hope so." Sam answered with a sigh.
"You know we destroyed that kid's life by telling him the truth."
Dean glanced out the window as black and white patrol car lights flashing sirens blaring screamed by; to be quickly swallowed up by the night.
"We didn't have a choice, Dean." Sam said as the siren faded away.
"Yeah… you know I'm starting to get why parents lie to their kids… you want 'em to believe that the worst thing out there is mixing pop rocks with coke to protect 'em from the real evil... you want 'em goin to bed feelin safe if that means lying to 'em so be it… the more I think about it… the more I wish dad had lied to us."
"Yeah me too."
Silence returned to the dark interior of the Impala broken a minute later as Sam's phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket glancing at the caller ID before he connected.
"Hey Bobby."
"You boys still in Alliance?"
"Yeah we're just heading out."
"Jobs come up in Oklahoma, you boys up for it?"
Dean glanced at Sam for askance.
"Hold on Bobby," Sam turned to Dean moving the mouth piece away, "Bobby's got a job in Oklahoma, you wanna take it?"
"What kinda job?" Dean said without taking his eyes off the road.
"What is it Bobby?"
"A spirit, a simple salt and burn."
"Salt and burn." Sam repeated to Dean.
"Sounds easy yeah we'll take it, why not?"
Sam put the phone back up to his mouth. "Yeah Bobby, we'll take it, give me the details."
KITA
It was raining heavily as in the early hours of the morning they crossed the border into Oklahoma. The way too cheery DJ at 2 in the morning informed them this was the third day of rain, easing off tomorrow afternoon. True to the forecast the rain got heavier the further south they travelled; sheets of rain threw itself at the Impala's windshield.
Sam filled Dean in on the hunt reading by flash light from his hastily scribbled notes and the computer open balancing on his knees as they made their way south.
"Dan Barker the guy that contacted Bobby is a realtor in Ada. He brought the property outside of Gerty last year from a man in Des Moines. He inherited it after the death of his second cousin Albert Everly's wife Edith in 2001." Sam paused squinting at his own handwriting then switched to the computer. "The cousin Albert disappeared in 68 no one ever saw him again."
"Get to the spirit."
Sam went back to the notes. "Barker saw what he described as the decaying body of a man approximately mid to late fifties floating in the hallway of the house the same day the last tenants came into his office saying they were leaving claiming they had seen a ghost, wanted the rent they'd paid in advance back."
"So the spirit is Albert Everly, but I thought you said he disappeared in 68, how come no one's seen him until now?"
Sam looked over at Dean and shrugged then went back to the computer. "A local Oklahoma newspaper caught the story interviewed the last tenants and from their description of the ghost and some digging into the county records the paper came up with a theory that the ghost was that of former owner Albert Everly," Sam scrolled down the web page he was looking at, "I pulled up the article, Albert was rumored to be physically abusive to his wife Edith that had led to Edith admitted to the hospital on several occasions."
"So this guy Everly he was a wife beater?" Dean asked as the Impala shot southwards, eating up the miles the wipers keeping up a rhythmical beat as they cleared way one slash of rain after another.
"Sounds like a real charmer. Did no one try to stop him, to help her, Edith?"
"Dean this was the sixties, they lived outside a small town and people didn't like to get involved. It's different today everybody knows every bodies business and there's all kind of help available for battered wives."
"Thank God for that. "I would have killed him too if I was in her shoes."
"I hear ya. Anyway the paper came to the conclusion that Edith unable to take the abuse any longer killed Albert and disposed of his body somewhere on the property. She lived there alone until her death at 84 in 2001. Albert's second cousin being the closest living relative inherited the property, which he subsequently sold to Dan Barker in 08."
"I wonder why he's only haunting the place now, something the tenants did has woken his spirit and pissed him off, or maybe they disturbed his body."
"Guess we'll find out soon enough."
Dean thought it sounded like a simple enough hunt. But when was anything simple when your name ended in Winchester.
KITA
Dawn was about 2 hours away, when they hit Gerty.
Sam had suggested they find somewhere to bed down and take care of this tomorrow night… or tonight as it was now well after midnight.
Dean just wanted to get it done, and then they could find somewhere to crash out and sleep. "Man I feel like I could sleep for a week." He rolled his shoulder s his back still aching from where Jesse's demon possessed mother had thrown his into the wall.
Gerty Oklahoma population 405 one of those towns that if you blinked you missed it. The dozen or so streets were quiet and dark. As you would expect at 4.30 in the morning.
"So what am I looking for?" Dean asked.
"Road D1503 at the south east end of town. The house is about a mile and a half outta town the only house out there, cross over the creek and it's on the right the same creek runs behind the house."
Three minutes after leaving Gerty they crossed over the creek. About 600 meters further on sitting back off the road a copse of trees what looked in the dark to be some kind of oak looming, framing it from behind was the farmhouse.
Dean pulled the Impala off the road following the twin tire tracks in the dirt that the rain had turned to mud leading up to the warped waste high picket fence with enough missing palings to drive a small car through. A matching gate hung open listing to one side from one hinge.
Dean parked the Impala a few meters from the fence and peered at the house through the rain covered windshield. The place looked decrepit in the dark, probably looks even worse in daylight. He heard the creak of Sam's door as he opened it the bench seat move underneath him as Sam got out another creak and the thud of the closing door, the car rocked gently on its suspension.
"Why would anyone want to live here?" He said to no one in particular.
With a resigned sigh he alighted the car and joined Sam waiting at the trunk; the shoulders of Sam's jacket already damp and his hair flattening against his skull from the persistent heavy rain.
Dean opened the trunk gave a shiver as the cold damp penetrated his jacket, flipping up the hidden compartment.
While Dean loaded the two salt guns, packing his pockets with extra salt rounds and an EMF meter, Sam loaded a can of lighter fluid a salt canister and their newest acquisition, 2 fold up spades into a duffle bag, patted his pants pocket to make sure he had the Zippo before taking the proffered pump action sawn-off, extra salt rounds a second EMF and a flash light from Dean, pushing the spares and the meter into his jacket pocket he slung the duffle over his shoulder; Dean took out another flash light before slamming the trunk. Clicking it on and directing the beam onto the muddy path that led the way to the gate.
"I hope that body is inside and not buried on the grounds." Dean said to Sam not taking his eyes off the rain soaked ground in the circle of the flash light.
"Yeah, I don't feel like searching the grounds in the dark getting all wet an' dirty or more wet an' dirty." Sam answered.
Dean stopped so suddenly and turned back to face him Sam almost ran into him.
"What?" Sam asked not sure he wanted to know when he caught a glimpse of Dean's smirk in the glow from the flash light.
"Sorry princess if I had a cape I'd throw it over the puddles for you, to keep your satin slippers dry."
"Very funny, just keep walkin', jerk."
Dean gave a snicker and turned back to the path. With every step they took the mud dragged at their shoes seemingly reluctant to give them up and trying to pull them down into the quagmire, releasing them eventually with a sucking squelch as they made their way through the sagging gate and walked up the porch steps and up to the front door.
Dean turned the handle; the door wasn't locked. He pushed on the door it swung open with a squeal of rusty hinges; taking a step into the uninviting opening with Sam right on his heels, running a hand along the wall inside of the door he found a light switch and flicked it up. Weak light from a naked bulb in a wall sconce half way down the now visible hall in front of them lit the entrance way where they were standing and illuminated the drab hallway driving back the worst of the dark and shadows.
"At least the powers still on." Sam observed.
Immediately to the right of the door against the side wall a staircase ascended upwards the under part of the stairs forming the other side of the hallway closed in with dark wood paneling. On the left were 2 dark rectangles of open doorways, one close to them the other two thirds down the hall.
"I'll take the upstairs, you check around down here," Dean said in a quiet voice one foot already on the bottom step, he exchanged the flashlight for the EMF meter, salt gun in deceivingly casual grip, "yell if you find it."
"Okay be careful."
Pulling the second EMF from the duffle and turning it on Sam went into the first room on his left finding nothing except some ratty old furniture. The second room was empty; there was no activity from the EMF.
The second room yielded the same result, nothing.
At the very end of the hall end of the hall was another doorway Sam entered a dark room, finding a light switch on the wall inside he flicked it on, the naked bulb illuminated a kitchen, to his left was a stainless steel sink with an attached drainer, next to that an antique looking fridge. In front of him was a very seventies gaudy Formica topped table a couple of matching chairs with rusted steel legs. A curtain less darkened window behind it flanked on the right by a wooden bolted door. On his right the shorter side of the kitchen was an upright gas stove and oven and a work bench, filled in underneath by cupboards.
As Sam panned the silent EMF reader around the room above his head the ceiling creaked as Dean moved around from one room to another. Sam hoped Dean was having better luck upstairs.
Leaving the kitchen he stepped back in the hallway the toe of his shoe caught on the edge of a long threadbare hall runner, he tripped forward and sideways; his shoulder colliding with the paneling beneath the stairs to his left. He glared down at the offending rug before turning back to the paneling. The panel had given slightly under the weight of his shoulder. My imagination or did that panel move?
Sam propped the gun against the paneling beside him running his hand along the edge of the panel. This was not a panel it was a door cleverly disguised as one of the panels. Pointing the EMF at the panel one of the red lights lit up but it remained silent he stowed the EMF in his pocket and moved his fingers back up the sides feeling for some sort of handle or catch.
Half way up the right side there was a small hole where one of the many faux knots of wood dotting the paneling had been cut out or removed. Sam pushed his index finger into the hole the back of hole gave under slight pressure; there was an ensuing click as the catch released the panel sprung out at him. He pulled the panel all the way open and peered into the gloomy interior. A musty odor hit him damp, mold and mildew mixed with something else, something that he had smelled before but couldn't remember where or when.
"What is that smell?" Sam spoke to himself trying to jog his memory.
"Find something?" Dean's voice sounded close to his ear, startling him and causing him to jump up banging the back of his head on the top of the doorway.
"Jeez Dean don't do that." Sam said furiously to his grinning brother.
"Sorry princess upstairs was a bust no decaying corpses no EMF, zip, zero, zilch, nil, nada, nothing."
"Jerk."
Dean was still grinning when Sam pulled the EMF reader from his pocket, flicked on his flashlight, pointing both into the dark space.
"Didn't that real estate guy say he saw Everly in the hallway?" Dean asked as he poked his head forward inside the doorway.
"Yeah."
"Maybe the body's in here?"
The beam of the flash light showed the space ran the length and breadth of the stairs, the end where the door was almost tall enough to stand up in narrowing down to nothing where the underside of the stairs met the floorboards at the far end.
"There's no body in here, and no EMF," Sam observed, "Hang on what's this?"
"D'you find something?" Dean repeated his question from a minute ago.
In the floor about a couple of meters to the right was the outline of some sort of trap door a recessed hand hole at the end closest to him. Ducking his head and squatting a little Sam stepped fully into the space leaning forward he pulled the 3 by 3 foot trapdoor up and away from the floor, tipping it over onto the floorboards behind the hole. The smell Sam had noticed earlier much stronger now.
"What is that," Dean said peering over Sam's shoulder into the hole, "smells like a baker's yeast, umm, what I wouldn't give for some fresh baked bread still warm from the oven smothered in melting butter."
"Can we focus here?" Sam said as he shone the flash light and EMF reader down the hole; the light catching on the top rung of what looked like wooden steps descending into the darkness, the reader letting out a low squawk 3 of the bulbs lit up briefly before one of blinked out again.
"I'm focused, hungry but focused." Dean said defensively. As if to prove his point his stomach growled loudly.
"I think there's something down here, there's some steps I'm going down."
The sturdy wooden steps descended into the darkness from the far side of the hole. Sam crouched lower in the restricted head space, pocketing the EMF meter he tucked the flashlight under his chin balanced the sawn-off in one hand and planted his right foot down onto the top rung. As he descended the duffle lying across his back bumped on the outer edge of the opening.
Dean stepped into the space and as soon as Sam's shaggy head disappeared below the opening, Dean followed him down, making sure he had each foot in the middle of each rung. The beam of the flash light bouncing around him as Sam examined his new surroundings.
As Sam shone the light around it caught and winked on something on the floor. Two kerosene lamps sat up against the closest wall.
He heard the creak of the wood as Dean descended the steps, he lit one and was putting the Zippo to the wick of the second as Dean reached the bottom and turned towards the light from the lamps.
Dean planted his feet firmly on the dirt floor the space around him brightened; he turned towards the source of the light. Sam had found and lit 2 kerosene lamps.
The yeast smell was even stronger down here. Sam held out one of the lamps to him. As he took the lamp Dean suddenly remembered that smell from a hunt in Kentucky he was on with dad when Sam was away at Stanford.
"Moonshine." He said.
"What?" Sam asked as he lifted his lamp and looked around.
"That smell its mash, a mixture of corn meal, sugar and brewer's yeast used to make moonshine, the tenants have been busy."
"I knew I'd smelled it somewhere before."
"How come you know about mash?" Dean asked surprised.
"A college buddy at Stanford he lived off campus he brewed it."
"Huh. So college wasn't all boring?"
Sam ignored him pulled out the EMF moving away the lamp held high throwing back the darkness.
Dean followed his example holding the lamp high he glanced around the room.
The room was roughly the breadth of the house the length running back to the front, the space punctuated at intervals by sturdy looking support beams; the underside of the pine floorboards running nine feet above his head. The walls were shorn up with rough mismatched bricks of different sizes and colors, holding most of the earth behind it at bay, stopping it from tumbling into the room. Clods of hard packed earth protruded from holes where the bricks had crumbled or fallen away.
"It's a cellar of some sort," Dean observed as he stepped across the dirt floor, "maybe a wine cellar.
"Don't think it's been used as a wine cellar for a long while, looks like they've been using it to store the hooch." Sam said from the far side of the cellar.
Dean moved to where Sam was staring down at a 2 tier shelves neatly stacked with 5 liter glass jars filled with an off white cloudy liquid. To one side was a large 5 gallon bucket
Dean shone the lamp onto the bottles then into the bucket. Tan colored head of bubbles lapped at the rim. "And brew it .This is the mash they probably kept it down here while it's rising, trying to keep the smell contained, you said a creek runs behind here."
"Yeah, so?"
"The shine is 90% pure alcohol very potent and volatile it can explode during in the brewing process. The still is usually outside close to a cold water creek for safety and if you drink it straight off the still it can contain methanol you can go blind or die, so they cut it to half strength with fresh water to make drinkable."
"Dude, you know an awful lot about it."
"Learned all about it from an old dude on a hunt with dad while you were at wussy state."
"There's no way they would be drinking all this they must have going to sell it."
"The spirit must have really put a fire under them if they abandoned this."
Sam turned away from the stacked bottles moving to scan around the rest of the cellar; he was almost back and to one side of the stairs when the meter went off, squealing, and all the red lights on top lit up like a Christmas tree.
Dean came to stand beside him, looking down at the noisy, blinking meter.
"Yahtzee."
Sam shut it off put down the gun slid the duffle off his shoulder and pulled out the spades opening them up he handed one to Dean.
They had dug down about a foot when Sam asked. "Do you think the recent activity down here disturbed Everly's grave?"
"I'd say so. I think Everly had double standards, the man thought nothing of hitting his wife when he was alive but doesn't approve of moonshine being made on his property after he's dead."
The body was in a fairly shallow grave, no more than 3 feet down. It was probably the best Edith could do at the time. The remainders of clothing clung to the bones, wisps of light brown hair clung to the skull, the eye sockets empty and the teeth pulled into a perpetual grin.
"Hello Mr. Everly." Dean said as he cleared away more dirt.
The sudden coolness in the room alerted them to the spirits presence. It penetrated their clothes, their breath misting out before them.
Dean dropped his spade, scooped up his salt gun; from out the corner of his eye he saw Sam do the same. Still kneeling he twisted on the balls of his feet to face the other side of the room.
The spirit was standing in the center of the cellar. The figure looked solid, corporeal. Giving it away as a spirit was the frequent flickering in and out of the figure, and the decaying parchment like skin deeply lined and wrinkled where it wasn't stretched thin over the protruding cheek bones didn't belong to anything living. What remained of his clothing was the same as on the body's remains they had partially uncovered, tattered and torn, the shirt that had at some stage been white or close to it and the dull brown suit revealing more decaying flesh through the many renders.
"Sam, keep digging." Dean said his eyes and his concentration on Everly. He heard the sound of the spade digging into the dirt start up again behind him as Sam did as he had asked and resumed digging.
Dean cocked the rifle pointing it at the spirit. It made no move to come closer, its seemingly sightless milky eyes stared hard at him.
"Get out." It said, just like the creepy ass ghost voice in The Amityville Horror.
"Sure thing pal as soon as we torch your ugly ass wife beating body."
Without warning Dean felt himself lifted off the ground his body twisting as he flew through the air passing straight through the spirit the dirt floor sped by his eyes for a brief moment before his body crashed horizontally against the shelves and bottles of moonshine, the crack of breaking wood and breaking glass reverberated around him as he slid down the wall; shelving and bottles broken and intact tumbling down on him and around him. Cool wetness soaked his hair and clothes.
Dazed but not really hurt he heard Sam cry out. "Dean."
He opened eyes he didn't remember closing. Everly's spirit was standing over him now a look of pure hatred twisting his already gruesome continence. Over Everly's shoulder he saw Sam take a step towards him.
Dean stopped him in his tracks with a growled. "I'm alright keep digging."
"Get out of my house."
Dean lifted the salt gun that he somehow still had in his grasp and fired a round into it. It dispersed a shower of salt crystals falling to ground where it had stood.
Sam abandoned the spade and started scooping with his hands, trying to uncover enough of the body to ensure all the remains burnt to ashes, sparing a quick look over at his brother when the report of the gun filled the room.
Dean was extricating himself from the wreckage of the glass bottles and shelves. He groaned as he found his feet staggering a few paces towards him.
Everly appeared again flickering into life his back to him but up close and personal with Dean. Dean gave a startled. "Ummf," running into Everly's ghostly but solid figure, stumbling back a step, the gun flying out of Dean's hand almost simultaneously as he was again flung backwards the sound of more breaking glass accompanied his landing once again into the wreckage of the shelves of moonshine. This time he lay still, eyes closed.
Sam snatched up his salt gun stood and fired in the one motion at Everly's back, again the spirit dispersed.
Sam quickly covered the now wet, muddy earth to Dean's side; Dean was stirring his arms and legs shifting against the moonshine sodden ground, frown lines creasing his forehead, his eyes opened blinking rapidly.
"Hey Dean, you alright." Sam asked as he laid one hand on his brothers soaked shirt front the other on his shoulder.
"I'm okay, son of a bitch that dead man's strong." Dean said looking around the room.
Sam gave a half laugh fisting his hand in Dean's shirt he helped him to his feet. "Dude you smell like a brewery."
Dean sniffed at the sleeve of his jacket and started back from the potent smell.
"Let's finish this bastard and get outta' here," Dean said as he bent over retrieving his salt gun from the wet floor, his eyes followed the path of liquid, "umm Sam, I think we got a problem." He added.
Sam looked at his brother Dean's eyes were on the ground. "What, problem? What is it?"
"The moonshine." Dean indicated the ground with the salt gun.
Sam followed Dean's gaze. The ground around their feet was now a muddy reeking puddle of moonshine rivulets snaked across the ground in all directions some of them disappearing into the half dug grave.
Sam looked from the muddy alcohol rivers back to Dean, unsure of what Dean meant. "What about it?"
"We can't burn a body down here; the whole place will go up and us with it."
"You're right, so what are we gonna do?"
Dean pawed at his wet shirt eyes darting around the room. "I'll keep Everly busy down here you take the body outside and burn it."
"You sure?"
"Yes I'm sure."
"Okay." Sam padded across to the grave, Dean had his back. Most of the body was uncovered but in pieces, the earth still clinging to it and around it was damp, he couldn't lift it out and drag it up the ladder. He remembered the duffle a few feet away he dragged it towards him held it open as best as he could and started stuffing the bones into the bag non to gently. The bones clanging against the can of lighter fluid still in the bottom of the bag.
Behind him he heard Dean yell. "Sam stay down." He pulled his head down a moment before the report of the gun sounded close by.
Before the echo of the shot had died away he began to again stuff bones in the bag again the familiar sounds of Dean ejecting the spent shells and reloading assuring Sam without looking that Dean had sent the spirit packing yet again and was unharmed.
The skull was the last to go in Sam rose to his feet grabbing the shot gun and slinging the now heavy duffle over his shoulder in the same motion.
"Okay I got it." He reached stairs in a few long paces and put one foot on the bottom riser his free hand on one higher up at chest level, trying to balance the weight of heavy bone-filled bag while holding the shot gun and somehow keeping his footing and climbing the stairs at the same time.
Reaching the top he looked back down at his brother. He was standing in the center of the cellar his back to Sam feet braced apart shot gun at the ready, panning it around the room ready for Everly to appear again.
Some sense must have told Dean that Sam had hesitated he growled out. "Go Sam I'll be right behind you."
Sam turned away and clearing the last of the steps he scrambled from the hole then tumbled into the hallway. Quickly regaining his feet he headed for the front door which was thankfully still open. As he cleared the door it slammed behind him; he felt the breeze created by the impact of the door slamming into the frame.
Sam tripped on the bottom porch step the weight of the bag sending him sprawling into the rain soaked mud, precious seconds wasted. Feet slipping in the mud Sam regained his balance and ran away from the house. Once he thought he was far enough away he upended the duffle the bones lighter fluid and salt canister fell in a heap into the mud. He dragged the salt and lighter fluid clear of the bones.
A moment later an ominous rumbling sounded from deep in the house. Momentarily distracted from the job at hand Sam glanced up at the dark foreboding facade expecting to see… what? A billboard with what was going on inside plastered across it. He couldn't be sure but he thought the house shivered for a moment.
He sprinkled the salt and lighter fluid over the pile of bones. He pulled the Zippo from his pocket flicked it, nothing, flicked it again, still nothing, a third, fourth and fifth time; on the sixth try it caught a small flame sprung from the plastic lighter, more time wasted. Shielding the flame from the rain he put the flame to the pile; a burst of flame flared where it landed then snaked across the bones devouring the lighter fluid. The heat from the fire warmed his face.
Again he looked back to the house, this time he expected to see the front door thrown open and Dean to hurtling out into the almost imperceptibly lighting night.
Dean stood ready for Everly his back to Sam and the steps his feet sinking into the muddy puddles of moonshine.
"Okay I got it." He heard Sam say and then the creaking of the stairs as Sam climbed to the hallway above.
Dean sensed a sudden hesitation in Sam and knew his brother had stopped at the top the ladder. "Go Sam I'll be right behind you." He said with a growl.
He stepped back until the bottom step pressed against his ankles. He heard Sam's feet pounding along the hallway above, giving the cellar a final once over he turned and began to climb, expecting an icy cold hand to wrap around his ankle.
Dean scrambled out from under the stairs into the hallway; gaining his feet he took a step towards the front door.
Without warning the ceiling above his head cracked and crashed down, he took a step backwards away from putting up his arm to shield his face, felt sharp bits of debris penetrating the fabric of his shirt and jacket piercing and cutting his skin on his forearm.
When the noise fell away he pulled his arm away from his face the hallway was blocked. Dean said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "Son of a bitch. You want me to leave, or you want me to stay, which is it fugly."
Dean took another step back as more of the ceiling caved in. He was now standing in the entrance of the kitchen he turned looking for another way out. Behind him was a wooden door bolted shut. He sidestepped the Formica topped table in the middle of the room and was within an arms length of the door when the ceiling above collapsed, plaster, and wood, dirt all kinds of debris raining down on his back and legs, forcing him to the floor. There was a metallic thud a snap followed immediately by a loud hissing.
He lifted his head turning in direction of the hissing, and then the smell hit him, gas.
One of the wooden beams that had crashed down from the floor above had fallen behind severing the gas line. Dean couldn't see the danger emerging from behind the stove but he could hear and smell it.
Above him the light bulb was hanging down from between what remained of the ceiling and the floor above by the thick insulated electrical wiring, swinging wildly back and forth flickering on and off sending fractured light around the room like a disco ball from the 70's.
Knowing all the escaping gas needed was a spark Dean had to hurry. If the bulb burst he had no hope of escaping the ensuing explosion. Dean began to hurriedly disentangle himself from the rubble across his back and lower body, as he pushed aside a large piece of 2by4 a nail sticking out at an odd angle tor at the skin along his inner arm, snagging his skull bracelet pulling the stretchy cord from his wrist, it fell unnoticed into the pile of rubble around him.
Finally pulling himself free of the wreckage he scrambled to his feet, when for the third time he was flung backward his left shoulder taking the brunt of the collision with the door, the door that was his only escape, sliding ungraciously down to the rubble strewn floor.
Choking and gasping on air now filled with the toxic smell of gas he saw through hazy eyes Everly before him, flickering in and out. His own shallow painful breaths puffing out into the now cold gas filled room and he realized with horror he had no salt gun, lost somewhere under the pile of rubble from above half filling the room. Not that he could use it the spark would set off the gas. What the hell Sam, hurry it up will ya'?
Four things seemed to happen almost simultaneously, in slow motion like the effects they were so fond of using in the movies. With a growl of hatred Everly's icy cold hand wrapped around Dean's throat, the light bulb still swinging wildly at the end of its cord shattered, sparking and fizzling, Everly burst into flame and dissipated into nothing, Dean felt Everly's cold grip turn to a moment of burning heat at his throat as he was surrounded by a bright, blinding, deafening all encompassing ball of white burning light.
One moment he was standing looking at the house and the next he was lifted off his feet and flung backwards by a wall of heat and light. The next thing he knew he was lying in amongst the broken palings of the picket fence; rain, his face being peppered with stinging, sharp objects mingled with the rain; his ears ringing and yet at the same time filled with a strange kind of hissing deafness.
Opening his eyes to the weak, pale watered down light of dawn; he rapidly blinked away grit that stung and burned like acid before lifting up onto his elbows eyes drawn to the house, popping, crackling and groaning noises and flames leaping skyward emanated from what he realized was the remains of the house.
Still shocked by blast he clambered to his feet bringing shaking fingers to the side of his jaw; his fingers traced along a gash in the flesh. There was something buried in the skin there his fingers came away wet not from the ever present rain but with blood, mixed with dirt plaster and dry wall that seemed to coat him from head to foot.
He began to walk then run towards the house; Dean was in there. Heavy feet slipping in the mud, he leaped over the smoldering ashes of Everly's remains, vaulting over various pieces of debris scattered in his path.
"Dean, DEAN!!? Sam yelled as he began to around circle the huge pile towards the back of where the house had stood.
The early morning light showed more debris here than at the front. It was strewn across the puddles of rain and yellowed patchy grass spreading into the copse of Oak trees concealing the creek. He could make out what he recognized as the back door lying at the base of a nearby tree, but no sign of his brother. Which meant Dean was probably trapped under there.
With an anguished cry. "Oh my God… DEAN!!" He fell to his knees at the edge of the pile he began pulling and digging at it frantically with his bare hands.
KITA
30 hours later; near Sioux Falls, South Dakota
Bobby cursed for the umpteenth time today as for the umpteenth time today he had rammed the wheelchair into either a door jamb, a piece of furniture or one of the copious piles of books he still had scattered around.
The boys had been gradually clearing out the downstairs of Bobby's collection of books, stacking them into boxes and piling the boxes up against the library/study wall trying to make it easier for Bobby to get around. Between them they had hauled Bobby's bed down the stairs, clearing a space in the lounge room centrally positioned between the downstairs bathroom, kitchen and the library/study.
Although he never admitted it to them he was grateful they were trying to make things easier for him. They spent much of their down time here which wasn't much at the best of times and now with the apocalypse in full swing was now even less Bobby loved these boys like they were his own and he loved having them around.
As he navigated his way from the library into the kitchen there was a knock on the door, he turned the chair in that direction and wheeled it up to the door. He pulled it open to find Sam standing in the doorway, his face in shadow.
"Sam. I'm gonna have to get you boys some keys cut," he leaned forward trying to see around Sam looking for his brother, "where's Dean?"
Sam said nothing; Bobby back peddled into the house so he didn't have to strain his neck to look up at the freakishly tall young man. As Sam stepped inside the light from behind Bobby lit his face; he saw Sam clearly for the first time since opening the door.
The boy looked whacked; his clothes were dirty torn and disheveled his sneakers encrusted with dried mud; hands and fingers were scraped and bloody; hair in a wild tangle looking like he'd been pulled through a hedge backwards; eyes circled with fatigue, sadness and misery, small cuts covered his face and neck 2 larger cuts one on his neck and one on his jaw had left trails of dried blood. The cut on his jaw was open and raw.
"What the hell happened to you boy and where the hell is your brother?" His voice to his own ears sounded laced with fear and dread.
At last Sam spoke; his voice so quiet and filled with emotion, Bobby had to lean forward to hear the halting words. "Dean… Bobby he's… he's dead."
Bobby stared up at him. Sam's face crumpled and twisted with inner agony a moment before he folded up like a stack of cards in front of Bobby's wheelchair, his head coming to rest on his lap bloody hands clenched in Bobby's jeans, body pressed up against his useless legs.
Bobby laid one hand on Sam's dirty, messy hair and one on his trembling back as he sobbed out his misery.
He felt emotion rise in him unable to hold back, tears filled his eyes, spilling over and quickly becoming a flood raining down on the back of Sam's head.
To be continued…
A first chapter cliffhanger, so sorry. Please review and let me know your thoughts. Oh by the way did I say this is not a death fiction story.
Apologies for this being longer in coming than I predicted but personal matters and illness have slowed the writing process considerably. Chapter 2 is written it just needs a little tweaking and chapter 3 is underway.
Silvertayl