The barn was silent, except the occasional hoot of an owl searching for prey. The weatherman had predicted a clear night. But seemed that Mother Nature had other plans, as a mass of storm clouds gathered and stood at the ready. The rain had yet to start, but it was coming. It was at this barn where, after talking with the people who owned it, the two Winchester brothers took refuge for the night, camping out in the hay-filled rafter of the barn.
"Dean, would you calm down?" Getting a curse in return, Sam sighed, knowing it was pointless to ask, let alone expect his brother to calm down.
"Sam, don't ask me to calm down, okay? My freaking car just died on me--"
"And we will get it fixed tomorrow morning." Sam interjected, quickly shining his flashlight over the hay looking for what moved. "Dean, I think there's mice in this hay." He searched all around him for signs, but found none.
"Sam, we're in a fucking barn. Of course there's mice in here." Dean rolled his eyes, but began shining his light on a small patch of hay that moved. "Just pray you don't get one up your pants and bites you in the--"
"Dean, please. No visuals." Sam stood up and shook his pants anyway. "What are you laughing for?"
"Just laughing at the thought of a mouse crawling up there and scaring the piss out of you," Dean chuckled. "You'd scream like a bitch, too."
Sam glared at his brother. "I would not scream like a--" He stopped when he saw a mouse creeping towards Dean's leg and a smirk tugged at a corner of his mouth. "Night Dean." He backed up, not wanting to turn and miss the Dean's discovery of the mouse.
"What are you smirking for?" Dean followed the direction of Sam's eyes and saw the mouse making a beeline for his leg. "AHH! What the hell?" He bent down and tossed some hay at the tiny creature.
"Shoo! Git!" He backed up, almost into Sam, and started reaching for his gun. The mouse made a sharp left and headed for another part of the barn. Dean turned around and hit a laughing Sam in the shoulder. "You bastard!"
"Who did you say would scream like a bitch?" Sam said, dodging another hit from his brother. "Night Dean," he sat on a bale of hay and slipped his hood over his head. He switched off his light and closed his eyes, trying to get as comfortable as possible as one could on hay.
"Hardy har har," Dean grumbled, finding a patch of hay to lie on and clicking off his light.
"Hey Dean?"
"Hm?"
"Did you notice how weird those people acted?"
"Hm."
"Didn't they seem strange to you?"
"Hm."
"Are you going to say anything other than hm?"
"Shut up." Dean kept his voice low as if he were afraid of being heard.
"Wha--" Then Sam heard it. Something moving around below them. Something way too big to be a mouse. There was a clank and then pause. He grabbed his flashlight and slowly sat up to keep from making noise on the dry hay.
The brothers lie still, listening. The movements grew closer, stopping at the ladder leading up to the rafter.
Sam and Dean waited, listening for whatever was down there to make a move. What seemed like hours went by in silence. Sam felt his adrenaline winding down, making him even more tired. He wanted to call over to Dean, but kept quiet. Whatever it was down there must have given up. It probably had been the farmer or his wife poking around. Sam felt his body easing back into sleep mode despite his objections. He stifled a yawn and sat back on the hay bale as nothing else was heard.
It had only been the farmer or his wife… he thought, drifting off to sleep.
Sam woke up with a start, feeling a hand clamped over his shoulder shaking him awake. He looked right into Dean's flashlight. "Wha--"
"Quiet. It's back."
They listened to the growls - sounded like several animals down there - underneath them, heard them go from one end of the barn to the other. Dean slowly made his way to the edge, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other. He leaned over, only getting a glimpse of something fast moving and dark. The flashlight barely penetrated the dark shadows cast throughout, making it seem as if monstrous creatures stood in wait for their own prey.
Suddenly there was a movement to Dean's left…and then his right. He couldn't keep up with it. There was a growling sound coming from behind him. He turned and came face to face with something he had never seen before in all his hunts. Standing upright on two legs like a man, but its' features were deformed. Its' skin was pale blue in color, slimy looking the way the light shone over it. Its' eyes were yellow, like a cat's. There was no hair on its' head, completely bald except for the sheen from the flashlight. When it opened its mouth, a growl came out between its' yellow teeth. It held up its' hands and Dean saw they were webbed, like a duck's foot.
"What the fuck?" When it started to come towards him, Dean climbed back up to the rafter where Sam was impatiently waiting for news.
"Well, what is it?"
"Something we'll need a gun for," was all Dean said, reaching for his bag. Unzipping it, he pulled out a shotgun and some shells. Taking a cue from Dean, Sam reached in his own bag and pulled out his gun, making sure he grabbed some extra bullets to slip in his pockets.
There was something climbing on the ladder, coming up towards them. They pointed their guns towards the ladder, waiting for it to appear…
…But it didn't.
Dean and Sam kept their guns held up, both remembering how they had fallen for this same trick a few hunts ago. They both exhaled, not realizing they had been holding their breaths for so long until the storm finally begun, crashing thunder and sending lightning streaking across the sky.
Sam slowly started inching his way over to the edge of the rafter, but Dean tapped him on the shoulder, shaking his head.
Sam gave him an 'It's all right' look and inched towards the ladder. He pointed his gun and flashlight down the ladder's steps and saw the farmer staring back up at him.
"Hey there," he said, a smile on his face as he covered his eyes from the light. His smile disappeared when he saw the gun. "Whoa now."
Surprised, Sam put the gun behind his back. "I'm sorry. I--"
"I wanted to tell you that there's a storm brewing and if you and your brother wanted to sleep inside the house, you could." The farmer cast doubting eyes at Sam, obviously taking back his invitation, probably all the way when both Sam and Dean had come to his door asking for shelter.
Sam glanced back at Dean, glaring at him. Once again, he's gotten me in trouble, he sighed.
Confused, Dean shrugged while he shouldered the shotgun.
Sam slipped his gun in his waistband and glanced over the edge at the farmer. "Um, yeah. We'll be right down." Sam gave another glare at his brother and grabbed his bag before beginning the climb down with Dean right behind him after putting the shotgun in the bag again.
A flash of lightning brightened the barn and a crash of thunder soon followed, shaking the barn down to its' foundation.
"Storm sounds close," Dean said, trying to ease the farmer and draw him into conversation.
The farmer kept a wary eye on the both of them, obviously looking for their guns and wondering who they were and if they were wanted by the law. "Yeah. It's supposed to hit us hard tonight."
"Good thing we got here in time after our car broke down," Dean put on his best charm smile and glanced over at Sam, who had turned red and kept his eyes on the ground. "We'll have to ask our captain how we can reimburse you or something."
"Your captain?" The farmer raised an eyebrow at Dean.
"Yeah, our army captain." Dean glanced back over at Sam, who was staring at him incredulously. Dean kept his smile plastered on his face and kept on. "We're on leave and we were on our way home when the car broke down. The private here-" he slapped Sam on the back. "-is still a little jumpy from being overseas."
The farmer glanced back at them, staring at Dean a little bit longer. "Well, folks 'round here are appreciative what you boys do for this country." He nodded his head towards them.
"Well, sir, we love our country and want to fight for it."
Sam watched Dean put on his most solemn face. This had to be the biggest lie Dean had ever told, Sam decided. Then he remembered some whoppers Dean had spun up - and had believed, much to Sam's disbelief - and decided that this lie was on the list of the biggest.
"Well, come on. Let's get inside before the storm blows us away."
The trio made their way towards the house and once inside, the man turned on the light and blew on his hands. "Gettin' a little cold out there."
"Yes, sir, it is." Dean set his bag down and glanced around the house. "Wife gone to bed?"
"Yep." The farmer slipped off his jacket and hung it up in the closet.
"Been here long?" Sam finally spoke up, though his voice was soft.
"Been here…oh I'd say going on ten years now." The man offered them a seat in the living room, standing behind the chair Sam sat in.
Dean felt a chill crawl up his spine. There was something about the old man that wasn't sitting right with him. The way he kept staring at the back of Sam's head, the way he held the back of the headrest…just put Dean at unease.
And then the glance at Dean sealed the deal. It had been only for a second, but Dean was sure the farmer's eyes had gone from brown to yellow slits back to brown with a blink of his eyes. Dean glanced back at his bag, wishing he had the shotgun in his hand and was blowing an extra hole in the man's - or whatever he was - head. He looked at Sam, who was frowning. Maybe he was picking up the thing's intentions with his little psychic antenna or whatever. Maybe he was still embarrassed at pointing a gun in, what he thought, was an innocent farmer's face. Dean hoped Sam's little radar was working and picking up what Dean knew.
"Son, would you mind helping me get something from the cellar?" The farmer asked Sam.
"Um, sure." Sam shrugged, glancing back at Dean before following the man towards the cellar.
The clock ticked away the seconds, filling the quiet of the house. Dean got up and grabbed his bag, unzipping it and setting it beside him on the loveseat within reach. It wasn't long before he heard a scratching sound coming from the back of the house. A low growl followed, making the hairs on the back of Dean's neck stand up on end.
He could hear it getting closer and closer, low growls becoming deeper and closer. Dean grabbed the butt of the shotgun and started pulling it out the bag.
Just as the barrel was fully out the bag, a couple of gunshots sounded and Dean jumped up. "Sam!" He started running towards the cellar when out the corner of his eye. He turned and saw the slimy-looking creature, its' blue skin looking slightly green under the lamp lights. It emitted a low growl before hunching low to the ground, getting ready to lunge at Dean. He pointed the shotgun and fired just as the creature jumped towards him, howling when the shot connected.
Dean fired again, missing and dodging the creature's efforts to grab him.
Another shot came from the cellar and Dean's heart leapt at the thought that Sam was in more trouble than he could handle. He kept the creature under careful eye, the both of them circling each other while Dean cocked open the gun and tossed the two empty shells out, slipping two back in. He dodged another lunge towards him, cocking close the gun and firing off a shot and hitting the creature in the chest. Falling to the ground in a heap, the creature huddled into a ball, gasping for air as blood - a darker blue color than its' skin - spurted from its' mouth.
Standing over it, but far enough away to dodge the grab it tried on him, Dean put one last round in its' head. Cocking open the shotgun and popping out the two empty shells and putting in new ones, he made his way towards the cellar, but stopped when he saw Sam emerging from the door. "Sam?"
"Dean," Sam coughed, holding his side.
"You hurt?" Dean held open Sam's jacket to check for blood, but found none.
"Got tapped, nothing serious." Sam glanced over Dean's shoulder, seeing the dead body lying on the ground. "There was another one?"
"Most likely the wife," Dean cocked the shotgun closed and shouldered it. "The husband?"
"Yeah, tried to bite me and push me into an underground well." Sam slid the magazine out and checked his ammo. "Apparently, they came from the well." Sam went around the body and reached for the bag on the loveseat. "Do we have any explosives?" He sifted through the bag's contents.
"Explo-? Why do you want explosives?"
"Because there are more little creatures in the well downstairs."
Dean felt his face drain. "More of these sons-of-bitches?" He mentally counted their ammo supply. They didn't have enough to fight off more.
"There should be a grenade in there," Dean sighed. "That's not much, but hopefully it'll do."
"Hopefully." Sam pulled out the grenade and glanced at Dean.
Gripping their guns tightly and tucking some extra ammo in their pockets, they made their way down to the cellar. Another hunt was about to take place.
The End.
© 2006