Hey guys, I haven't seen season 8 yet, so to pass the time before its put on netflix I'm going to write fiction about the Winchester boys.
Loosely based off of the 2014 vision, Sam is not Satan, Cas does not partake in orgies, and Bobby, Ellen, Jo and Ash are still kicking.
Cas and Dean aren't stuck in purgatory and everything is swell, except that this is their life so nothing is ever swell.
There will be original characters in this fiction—I'm not sure what ships yet, but trust me there will be relationships.
Demons. Come to think of it, it had been a long time since they'd fought demons—and Dean can't help but feel a little better now that the world is right side up again. Even if right side up was still majorly messy.
He can vaguely hear Sam being slammed against the impala and winces, poor baby, but there's not really all that much time to dwell on it because the black-eyed freak is still advancing and Sam's got the knife.
Now, Dean Winchester is not about to be worked over by some scrawny collage kid with a serious need for some acne medicine, demon or no, so he throws a solid kick to the guys stomach, and smiles with grim satisfaction when black eyes crashes back against the concrete. The problem is, demons never stay down, and there's only one knife.
Black eyes lunges up, hitting Dean hard enough in the side of the head to make him see stars. There is no time for wooziness though, so he punches him right the hell back, and feels bones crunch under his fist. Demons, man, they just kept coming, and this one seemed to remember it had powers that Dean didn't, and so flung him back against the impala, next to Sam, who's been pinned by his own demon.
In the end, Dean supposed, Bobby had warned them that the Demon pockets around here were pretty strong, and they hadn't listened. He could already hear the old man mumbling to himself, idjits.
Sam turns his head a fraction to look at his brother, and they're both pretty beat up, blood comes from a cut near Dean's cheekbone, dripping down his neck and there's the beginnings of a black eye that they won't be seeing in the morning. He probably doesn't look too hot himself, he can already feel the blood caking into his long hair and a few of his ribs are definitely broken. It seems odd to him that this would be how it would end, but there doesn't seem to be a way out of it—the knife laying in the road where the demon had kicked it from his hand, and the clearly displayed binding symbols carved into their wrists.
Dean meets Sam's eyes and grins, because he's still taking care of Sammy.
"Winchesters," One of the demons spits. "It's about time someone made you into the roadkill you were destined to become." The other one, the girl, laughs. The sound is like nails against a chalk board and Sam winces, longing to push off of the car and slam a fist into her face. The invisible bonds around his shoulders, his waist, grow tighter.
"Such a shame," She coos, stepping forward to run a finger under Dean's chin. "This one's quite pretty." Dean's stomach lurched, and he bit back a torrent of obscenities. The revulsion must've shown in his eyes though, because her smile turned delighted and she stepped even closer, trailing her hand down his neck as the bonds around him tightened to the point where he could hardly breathe.
"Come on, Liz," The guy says, getting impatient. "We should get this done before the hunters come looking for us." He reaches out and grabs the woman by the arm and she hisses at him, snapping around to slap him hard. He flinches, keeping his rage in check as he backed away.
"I take my time with my kills. Besides, the Winchesters aren't part of this pocket—they might not even know they're coming."
Just as she's raising her hand to punch it through this chest, Dean hears a noise—a faint scuffle of gravel under a boot, and sees a flash of red disappearing behind a wrecked Toyota on the other side of the road. He slides his eyes to Sammy, and finds his eyes focused on the beat up car as well. There's the slightest stirring of hope in his hazel eyes as he turns to look at Dean, but it's all about to be over as Acne-Dude steps forward and blocks the last of their view.
"Well, it was nice seeing you boys," Liz grinned, her hand suspended above Dean's chest. "See you in hell, Dean-o."
"I don't think so, bitch." A voice snarled, and there was the sound of a dagger being plunged into flesh. The Demon's eyes went wide in surprise, and lit up like a Christmas tree, her bones crackling inside like a fire. Acne-Dude spun in shock, his eyes flicking to black as he took in the scene.
The demon was flung aside, and from behind her appeared a much smaller girl, dressed like a hunter with the Demon knife in her hand, she twirled it like an expert and crooked a finger at Acne-Dude, as Sam fell limp from the sudden loss in support from Liz.
Acne-Dude sprung into action, leaping toward the girl who grinned and darted to the side, jumping up on the impala, lithe like a cat. Sam struggled to his feet and Dean started muttering curses and struggling against the invisible ropes that still held him in place.
The girl swung the knife, slashing the demon in the chest, drawing an angered roar and danced back as Acne-Dude leaped toward her. She laughed and hopped backwards off the hood of the Impala and smirked at him. There was a tense silence, Sam shifting, waiting for the right moment, the girl flicking her eyes between Acne-Dude and Sam.
The demon went to move forward, and Sam locked his arms around it's neck, pushing his knee into the demon's back. The girl, her red hair whipping around her head as she raced forward, plunged the knife through the demons chest and grunted with satisfaction as it glowed red and went limp.
Dean gasped as air flooded back into his lungs, and slid down the side of the car, landing with a muffled thump against the gravel. "Fuck." He grunted, levering himself upright.
Sam waited until the girl had pulled the knife from the demons chest to drop the body, not caring where it landed. He watched as the girl wiped the dripping blade on her coat, and then handed the knife back to him with a smile.
"Hi," She said, her voice light. "You must be Bobby's boys." She held out her hand, as though they'd met by chance in some store, not at all like she'd just skewered two Demons for them.
"Yeah," Sam said, his face twisted in confusion as he took her hand. "I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean." She smiled again, her gray eyes flitting back and forth between them. She couldn't be more than five feet, and she looked crazy young—like she hadn't hit her 20's yet.
"I'm Carver." She said, turning to hold her hand out to Dean. He took it, observing her. Her reddish hair had come loose from the braid that was supposed to keep it out of the way, and her jeans had holes in the knees, her jacket was made of tough material that reminded Dean of his own, and the burgundy boots on her feet gave her maybe an inch, but she exuded 'hunter' like nobody's business and Dean didn't quite know why that made him so sad.
"Well!" She say's bouncing around the side of the car. "We should probably get back to the compound. Bobby and Ellen are gonna want to see you, and I have chores to do." The brothers blink and start moving again, climbing into the car as Carver slid into the backseat.
::
::
The compound itself is just an old campground, cabins and a few low stone buildings that once served as the check in building, and bathrooms with showers. Dean can barley see a few gardens toward the center of the compound, and people moving back and forth between the buildings.
Carver hopped out as soon as the Impala stopped moving, waving her fingers at them and rushing off into the bustle of the compound before either Dean or Sam can say anything to her. They watch her disappear into one of the stone buildings. "She's.. Nice." Sam mumbles, pressing one hand to his aching ribs. Dean nods, rubbing a hand through his hair, still gazing around the compound, looking for Ellen or Bobby.
It had been about a year since they'd seen either one, and supposedly Cas was shaking up here since his angel mojo had started to wane. It seemed that no matter what they did, the world was still going to slide into the shit storm—and Dean had come to accept that. Now, because of the outbreaks of Croatian and the Demon's rising up, dethroning Crowley and throwing the world into chaos—there were pockets of hunters just like this one all over the world. It was the only way to survive and so this war would have to be fought no matter what Dean or Sam had hoped for.
"Dean! Sam!" Jo's familiar voice floated over to them from the left, and there she was, running towards them with a big smile on her face. Sam's face split into a grin to mirror hers and opened his arms for a hug when she got close enough. Her arms wrapped around his waist, and he bit back a hiss.
"It's nothing." Sam said when she looked up, concern written on her pretty face. "Just had a run in with a few demons and got a little banged up." He shrugged.
"I can see that." She said, looking up at his blood matted hair, and then over at Dean's split cheek. Dean shrugged and held out his arms for a hug as well, and she happily pulled away from Sam to give him one. Dean rested his chin on her head for a moment, and shared a brief look with Sammy. This was probably the closest to a home they'd have ever again. But, with more familiar faces heading their way.. it didn't seem like such a bad thing.
::
::
"You should've listened to me. Idjits."
"We know Bobby." Sam winced as Bobby wrapped the bandages tighter. Bullets were one thing, they could be removed. Cuts could be sewed up.. Bones on the other hand took a long time, and ached steadily. He'd never been good with that kind of pain.
"Well, at least you made it out better than your brother." Bobby turned to glance back at Dean as he spoke, who was wiping blood off his face and neck in the bathroom mirror. The younger man nodded, a faint smirk on his face as he observed his brothers signature bitchface through the glass. "Anyway, why don't you tell me how you got into this mess?"
Sam let out a breath and pushed the steady throb to the back of his mind. "Well, we were following your directions until two people appeared by the side of the road—we couldn't be sure if they were or weren't demons and they looked like they needed help, all bloody and torn up." He paused to blow out a pained breath as he shifted in his seat. "So we grabbed the knife and got out of the car, and they attacked us and knocked the knife away."
"And, they've been wising up apparently," Dean cut in. "Because they had binding symbols carved into their skin so we couldn't exorcize them. And after a few minutes they pinned us to the car and—"
"Wait, wait, wait." Bobby said, raising a hand to stop Dean from going on. "If you didn't have the knife, were pinned against the car, and you couldn't exorcize the fuckers—then how'd you get out of there? There's no way you overpowered them. They're stronger now." He glanced back and forth between the two as Dean made his way over to sit on the couch beside Sam.
"A girl snuck up behind a car and got the knife while they were distracted with us." Sam said. "She stabbed the first one when she was about to kill Dean, and when that demon died, the hold on me fell off so I was able to help her take down the other one."
The old hunters face became exasperated. "What was her name?" He asked, rubbing his hand over his face.
"Carver?" Sam asked, tilting his head curiously. "Why, who is she?"
Bobby sighed, looking like he was fighting against amusement. "She's a stray I picked up a year or so back. Her and her sister live here at the compound, and she's just about the best fighter her age. Which is pretty good since she just turned 18 a week ago."
Dean almost choked. "She's that young?" He asked, sputtering. Sure the kid had looked young but not that young. She'd had an air of confidence and strength that shrouded her age and made her seem older than she was. He remembered her, shoving the dead demon off the blade of the knife, the coy smirk on her face as she beckoned to Acne-Dude. She'd saved their asses and smeared two demons with super strength into the pavement.
"Yeah. How do you feel knowing a teenager just saved your ass?" Bobby chuckled, giving into the humor of the situation and letting grudging pride fill him.
Dean glared at him and chucked the rag he'd used to clean the blood from his skin at his father figure. "Shut up."
"Well, she was a damn good fighter for a teenager." Sam said, pushing himself upright and bending down to grab his bag off the cabin floor. "A lot of potential there, Bobby."
The older man nodded and stood as well. "I'll show you boys to your cabin."
::
::
Walking through the compound, they saw more familiar faces than they had anticipated, Ash peeking from a doorway, Rufus cleaning his gun on the porch of his cabin, Bela walking out of one of the shower buildings..
Bobby brought them to a worn down cabin, something right out of Dean's childhood memories. The screen door slaps shut behind them and Bobby tells them the deal with the showers. "If one's free, you can use it. No system to it, really. Same with the bathrooms. Just try not to take too long. Don't want one of the girls to kill you in your sleep." Sam laughs and nods, setting his stuff down on one of the twin mattresses in the small rustic room. "It doesn't get too cold around here, hot, unfortunately is a different story."
Dean sits down on the bed nearest the door and stretches his legs in front of him, only half listening to Bobby when he points to the last bed across the room. "Cas lodges here too, I figured you'd want to stick together." Bobby shrugs and Sam nods, already beginning to shove things into the set of drawers next to the bed. "Other than that, we'll find you guys chores tomorrow." Bobby smiles and rests his hand on Dean's head before walking out of the room and leaving the two boys alone.
"My face hurts man." Dean grouched, falling back agiainst the bed. He felt it when Sam sat beside him, the bed dipping under his weight.
"My ribs hurt." He sighed. "How do you think they're so strong. Bobby doesn't seem to have any idea." If Sam was being honest, he was almost afraid of the Demon's now. They were way stronger than they had been anticipating, and truth be told, if they hadn't had help they would've died. No doubt about it.
Dean opened his eyes, looking up into the rafters of the small cabin. "I don't know. Maybe some kind of spell?" It seemed like the only reasonable answer, but what did it matter? There probably wasn't any way to counter act it, so he didn't see how it was even important. Right now, he really just wanted some sleep.
Sam stood and went to his own bed, looking out at the setting sun through the smudged glass of the window and thought for a moment about how this place used to be for family fun and vacation. The thoughts brought to mind campfires and hotdogs on sticks and sparklers, fireflies in jars and scary stories told by candlelight. Things he never really got to experience. And now, it was a survival compound. Vegetables growing in the center and makeshift soldiers running around with guns just hoping to save whoever they could against an oncoming demon horde and a sickness that made you just like one yourself.
What a world to live in, he thought, about to say something to Dean, but when he looked down, Dean was fast asleep, his boots still laced and clothes on. Sam couldn't help but smile and lay down too.
He resolved to keep thoughts of how the world used to be at bay, because what did it really matter now? And as long as he had Bobby and Cas and Ellen and Jo and Dean.. well, what did he need the old world for anyway?