A/N: Set in SPN Season 5, and between Book 1 and 2 of the Iron Druid Chronicles.
"Sammy. Seriously? Arizona?" Dean asked as they cruised along Interstate 40, or formerly known as Route 66, from Oklahoma City to Holbrook where they would turn southwest towards the Phoenix metropolitan area. They still had a good ten hours left from the fourteen-hour drive. And no, they were not stopping. The Winchester brothers were planning on making it there just in time to find a motel for the night.
"Don't you find it kind of weird that we never had a case there? Like not even once in the four years since we have been hunting together?" Sam retorted with a question of his own, kind of irritated with the fact that his older brother second-guessed everything that he suggested. Ever since they found out about his psychic abilities, it has been like this. Even worse with the source of them coming to light, being demonic blood infusion and all. Not to mention that Sam killed Lilith, breaking the last seal that was supposed to keep Lucifer from rising. Okay, maybe… just maybe… his decisions weren't always so soundly founded.
"Actually, now that you mention it, I don't think Dad ever had to come here either," Dean mused out loud as he drove. He rarely let Sam drive, only when he couldn't do it himself due to fatigue or injury. No one touched his Baby without his permission.
"See? Weird," the younger Winchester huffed as if his point had been proven.
"Yeah, but supernatural weird? I don't think so," Dean looked at him with that irate frown only he was capable of.
"I think it's worth checking out. Maybe there is some natural protection on the area. Keeping the monsters out you know," he sighed, looking out the passenger side window, not really wanting to get into a fight.
"I think our time would be better spent figuring out how to stop the Apocalypse from happening," the green-eyed man grumbled again. Preferably in a way that didn't involve him killing Sam, the brothers being the true intended vessels for Michael and Lucifer and all. That was the angels' plan, not their own.
"Perhaps the answer to that is in Arizona too," Sam tried weakly, turning back with a scowl to his laptop. Honestly, he just had a feeling they would find something worthwhile down there, but he wasn't about to start voicing that, in case Dean got the idea that he was having premonitions again.
"Yeah, right! Pray that at least there will be some sun-kissed babes running around, desperate for some midnight action, or I'm calling this whole outing a bust," the older Winchester relented a little.
Sam rolled his eyes. Typical Dean. "Okay, listen to this. There is an article about a guy getting shot by a cop in his shop, then he miraculously walked out of the ER the same day."
"Yeah, flesh wounds tend to be like that."
"Dean, he was shot in the chest," he said meaningfully. "Also according to the article, witnesses stated that the cop claimed it wasn't him before killing himself."
"Okay, that might be our gig after all. Where is that shop exactly?" Dean conceded reluctantly. Dammit, he really hoped he would have time for a quickie before they had to start researching a case.
"Tempe, in the university district. Hey, by the way. On our way in, there's this place called the Superstition Mountains," Sam commented as he pulled up the online map.
"You wanna check it out?" Dean glanced at his brother.
"Why not? There's Native American lore that claims there's a hole leading down into the lower world, or hell in those mountains," the taller of the brothers explained further as he read on about the geographical area.
"What like the Devil's Gate in Wisconsin?" he questioned, the memory of the night Sam had died and the subsequent events of all hell breaking loose popping into his mind.
"I guess?" Sam shrugged unsurely.
"So where to exactly?" the older Winchester sighed. Yeah, definitely no sex tonight.
"Tony's Cabin. Located along the Haunted Canyon Trail," Sammy instructed.
'Cause that sounds sooo promising…
Eight hours later – at least ten miles away from their destination – the road leading to the ranch they had set out to visit got too treacherous to manage with the Impala. So they parked down along the side of the dirt road just as the sun was setting, geared up expecting anything from ghosts to demons, and hiked the rest of the way. Not the best idea at night, but hey. They had flashlights. Guess that motel room and a semi-comfortable place to sleep was a longer ways away for them than Dean could have ever anticipated.
They had walked maybe five miles when their surroundings started giving them the creeps. Everything looked dead, not a single sign of life. And not just animals. All they saw were dried out trees, husks of their former glory, no underbrush or anything.
"Unholy land," Dean realized, recalling their little run-in with a zombie risen by Greek rituals. The cemetery around the girl's grave looked just like this, except that was a mere few square feet. This… this was unspeakable. All they saw was devastation for miles to come.
"Just what the hell had happened here?" Sam frowned, his mind already running through the possible scenarios from their Dad's journal and everything else they had learned along the way. There was nothing in there that matched and could cause this level of desolation.
"Dunno, man, but we better find out," the older brother headed on forward with purposeful strides fueled by outrage, not even in the mood to comment on the possibility that hell was exactly what had happened here.
Thing is… there was nothing to find. No ectoplasm, no traces of sulfur, no graves with weird markings, nothing.
"I think we might need to call Bobby, get his opinion on this," Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly, the late hour catching up with him finally, especially since they had been running on 3-4 hours of sleep for weeks now.
"Right. Let's head back to Baby," was all Dean said, perturbed and wondering if this was all somehow tied into the coming Apocalypse.
Suddenly, movement caught their eyes from over the gorge at the side of the trail. A shadowy muscled figure emerged, wrapped in flames with glowing red eyes, wearing nothing but leather pants and chains around its waist.
"Dude, that's The Guy," Dean managed breath out in shock.
"The what?" the hunter glanced incredulously to his side between his long tresses of hair.
"Disturbed's mascot," he explained with an irritated huff. When Sammy still had that same dumbfounded expression on his face, he elaborated. "A metal band."
"Sure," Sam rolled his eyes, cocking his shotgun to fire rock salt at the son of a bitch. That worked against most stuff. If not that then silver.
He fired a shot, but nothing happened, didn't even budge him. That is when the stench hit them, and they barely had the mental capacity to keep from vomiting. Wasn't exactly sulfur, but to be honest, the creep smelled like ass, which in their books meant demon. But why wasn't salt doing anything to the bastard? They didn't have enough on them to pour out a proper circle of boundary, but they had the feeling it wouldn't have worked anyway.
Dean grabbed a flask from his jacket, unscrewing the top, and flung holy water at the bastard who had gotten way too close to them in this short amount of time. The monster didn't even flinch, none of the usual sizzling. Not that it seemed like it was possessing something anyway, that must have been its true form.
"Crap," he cursed under his breath as the creature took a swing at him. Dean was barely able to block with his rifle. Not that it did him any good. Razor sharp claws tore right through it, straight into his arm too. At least it was his left one.
Sam came up behind with a machete to chop its head off, but only got its hand as it turned to him, sensing his approach. The Guy look-alike screeched in pain and jumped off the older Winchester.
"Kill me!" the thing bellowed with guttural pain, trying to lure them back into the fight.
"If you really want to die, show a bit more cooperation!" Dean yelled back at it as he scrambled to his feet, examining his wound. Wasn't too bad, but needed stitches, and he was going to lose a lot of blood if they didn't take care of it soon.
The Disturbed Mascot ran towards them again, and the younger Winchester tried frantically to keep it back, swinging their only weapon around that seemed to do any kind of damage. It was made out of iron after all. He managed to slash its stomach straight across and pretty deep too. The creature howled in pain again, then fell to the ground in a puddle of black goo.
For a moment the brothers exhaled in relief, but then three more showed up from the same direction, looking like nightmares out of a painting by Hieronymus Bosch. One had a head of double skull, the second practically growing out of the first's eye socket, both their eyes looking at the hunters creepily. The other's mouth bellowed flames out, threatening to scorch everything in its wake.
"Run!" Sam shoved Dean towards the trail they had come from.
"What? I'm not a coward!" Dean looked taken aback as he was dragged along by his Sasquatch-sized younger brother along the path. Those things could kill innocents if they didn't gank them right there and then!
"Look, rules of engagement, man. We managed to do some damage. We keep our dignity even if we run to regroup for now," his hazel eyes implored. They needed to get out and get out now. They barely managed to hold off one, they were sure to die against three. They were just not equipped to handle these bitches at the moment.
Suddenly, a flash of flaming red hair caught their attention from behind them, arriving on a flying chariot pulled by stags. They quickly high tailed out of there, not knowing whose side the new creature was on, but was undoubtedly supernatural.
The trail was treacherous as is, but the added haste of their steps made it even worse, twice they almost fell off into the canyon. After a while, they noticed that they weren't pursued anymore, so they slowed down into a light jog as their surroundings turned back into the bushy wilderness it was supposed to be with the cacti and everything.
Dean's wound was still bleeding steadily when they made it back to the car, aggravated by his raised heart rate and physical exertion, so Sam quickly got their med kit out.
"Surgery by torchlight? Fun stuff," Dean remarked sarcastically as he realized what his brother was trying to do.
"Don't really have another option. You won't make it to a motel with that wound," he pointed out. Not to mention the fact that he would bleed all over the upholstery, something Dean would never forgive, even for himself.
"Yeah, just get it over with already," the older brother yanked the leather jacket and plaid shirt off to give access to Sam, holding their flashlight in his other arm for illumination.
Sam poured some water over the gash to clean the grunt of the grime off, then switched to alcohol. Well, a bottle of Jack. Technically, it did contain alcohol. It stung like a motherfucker too! In another twenty minutes, the younger Winchester had his brother's wound stitched up, nicely bandaged, and they were finally ready to go.
For once Dean took shotgun and let Sammy drive. Sam turned on the radio the moment he got in, instantly changing the channel from the usual hard rock the older Winchester usually like to listen to. An eerie tune with a woman singing slowly came on, mid-song.
Holy water cannot help you now
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out
I'm gonna raise the stakes, I'm gonna smoke you out
The brothers shared a look.
Seven devils all around me!
Seven devils in my house!
See they were there when I woke up this morning
I'll be dead before the day is done
"Dude, seriously? Cut this crap already!" Dean grumbled all of a sudden, flicking to another station despite their number one rule regarding car rides and music, sighing contently when Metallica came on.
The lyrics of the previous song had shaken him up though. Fate sure had a funny sense of humor.
A/N: Song: Florence + the Machine - Seven Devils