I don't own supernatural or Devil may cry.
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"Sammy!" Dean called as he pushed open the door to their room. His arms filled with groceries, well a six-pack and some beef jerky Dean closed the door with his right foot. "Found anything on that computer of yours?"
Sam looked from his place the table. His face shone in the artificial light of his laptop, "Uh, yeah. At least three ships have crashed along the coastline, each about sixty years apart."
Dean ripped some jerky off of the strip and opened one of the beers, then another and handed it to Sam. "Like the Dumair. No crew?" Sam nodded, "We'll check out the crash site tonight. Maybe we'll find out where the crew disappeared to."
"Alright." Sam said. He shut down his laptop. Soon enough a charger was charging down the streets of Prize Island.
Sam didn't speak during the trip over the cliff face. Dean contended that it must have been their father's death. It still bugged both of them. They were both past grieving and understood what had happened. But the demon, not enough questions answered for either of them.
"So Sammy. Anything from Bobby?" Dean asked, striking up conversation. Sam gave a gruff reply that Dean took as a negative, or Bobby didn't know anything about their current case.
The case was of a wreaked ship. The thing hit the rocks early that morning and investigators ran to the scene. It was a transport ferry, taking people from East Manhattan to Prize Island. A small still semi-rural town resided on the island, along with a fishing port on the other side. Tourism boomed here during Christmas and during the fishing seasons.
Rescuers found two people on the boat, both unconscious and neither remembered hitting anything, but they were still groggy and one was concussed. No one else was found, nor any bodies. One was a crewmember and the other a passenger. Dean found their names and the brother's surmised to question them after a look around on the vessel.
The ship was stationed at the bottom of the cliff face against the high rocks. Dean and Sam would have to climb down. Neither was too eager for that.
The ferry seemed normal enough from the outside, at least from the distance they were at. After forty minutes Sam and Dean stood on the deck of the abandoned ship. It was dead silent. No birds, no animals, not even a wave. Except Sam's voice, "What do you think did this?"
Dean did a quick once over of the deck, "I don't know, but let's not run right into it shall we?" There were footsteps and Dean spun around, Sam stood behind him, a step forward, "Jesus Sam."
"Sorry."
The brothers covered the open area, keeping within earshot but not exactly close. Meeting on the other end of the ship they found little on the deck, "Damned ghost ship." Dean muttered.
Sam nodded, "Looks like we're going inside." Moving to one of the public doors Dean tried to open it, but it was locked. Lights were on within but neither sibling saw any people. Nodding Sam came forward and dropped to one knee, picking the lock. A minute later they were in the vessel.
Dean heard voices coming from the direction of the nearest level. "How many floors this thing have?"
"Four. Five if you include the deck. Two passenger, one for vehicles and the last for mechanical parts."
Dean didn't like the sound of so much open space. Suddenly a face appeared by one of the doors, "Who the hell are you?" The middle aged man hollered.
Dean and Sam froze, "Couple of investigators," Dean began, "I'm agent Bonham, this is agent…Plant." The man nodded and disappeared back into the lit area. Descending the rest of the stairs the brothers entered the only lit area.
Three men sat in various positions around the naturally lit room. "A fire?" Sam asked.
The man nodded, "All the lights are out. Even our flashlights didn't last long. Whatever's here seems to be sucking the electricity dry."
"Whatever?" Dean feigned.
"Well you're here for the paranormal aren't you? Names Bruce. This here's Vincent." The man extended his arm to a lanky man looking out the ferry into the darkness, a gaunt face visible in the mirror. 'Boy over there is Nero." He pointed to a young man sitting cross-legged by the fire, a revolver sticking out of the back of his pants and a sword sitting across his knees.
"Nero?" Sam exclaimed.
The boy cocked his head and muttered, "Some of us don't like using our real names." Nero put his sword gently into the ground and used it as a crutch to get up. Dean knew of an old legend. About a silver haired warrior, some Hunters dyed their hair in imitation. "You Hunters too? Outside of our little ensemble here I haven't met any others." He extended his hand.
Dean took it, then Sam, "Dean, this here's my brother Sammy. Know what we're dealing with here?"
Bruce shook his shaven head, "No idea. There's another guy combing the ship. He's not with us and we don't know him. Seen him only a couple times, ask me he's trying to avoid us. Hey you by any chance the Winchester boys. Sorry to hear about John."
Sam's eyes darkened, "You knew him?"
"Only by reputation. Damn fine Hunter." Vincent said, his face never leaving the window. Then he turned back against it and smiled, "There's nothing outside the ship."
A massive boom sent everyone sprawling for cover. Dean and Nero were the first to their feet, gun and revolver in hand. They rushed to the window, which was no longer there. Neither was Vincent. Dean stuck his head outside and saw a shape sulk between the rocks, "Vince!" Nero cried out, but no reply came. With a sigh Nero brought his head back from the outside and slowly walked backwards from the open gateway until he was sure he was out of arms reach from… whatever.
"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded. No one had a reply for him. Sam eyed the darkness in the doorway and thought he saw a shape. But he knew it was just his mind playing tricks on him.
Sam shook his head, shaking his uneasiness and proposed what he thought to the group, "I think we're looking at more than one kind of demon. Corporeal demons can't suck electricity that I know of and incorporeal demons couldn't have taken Vincent like that."
"So two demons?" Dean questioned skeptically. Usually demons didn't work together. And if they did that brought about a whole slew of new questions, none of which could possibly have good answers. This case was getting better by the minute. "Maybe more?" With a crackle the lights on the ferry turned on. Then flickered, and the group stood once more in the light of just the fire. "Well that was weird." Dean muttered.
Nero was on his feet his revolvers spinning wildly, "Everyone get down." He whispered so loudly the dead could hear. With startled looks, or amused looks everyone ignored young Nero. Until he fired. The resounding boom shook the room and a scream was heard. Definitely not a human one either. Two more bangs and Nero stopped. The lights returned, "I think it's gone."
"What was? There was something here?" Sam questioned.
"A Shadow. Shapeless manifest spirits. The lights never turned back off. It's not dead, but it's injured. Or at least it will be before it heals." Nero explained, expressing knowledge beyond his youthful façade. Neither Winchester had heard of a shadow. If they had their father's journal with them they could've consulted it. But they left it at the hotel.
Looking at his watch Sam said, "Two hours till daylight."
Dean nodded, "The police will be here in the morning, we should go, preferably before they come."
Bruce was staring at the doorway down, "I hear footsteps."
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