Hey all! I started this a while ago but I finally got that chance to work on it more. This story will be a be a rather dark and gory one, but I swear there will be some bags of fluff here and there. Enjoy, and feel free to review. Thanks!
-Paperganstah.
The apocalypse destroyed most of the planet. God's creations came down on each other with the furry only ignorance could have bred. Humans bled and so did angels. Black winged imprints scorched themselves into the ground and proud building fell. Humanity was able to hold their own as the angels pulled back. Even as years passed and homes and families began to be rebuilt the angels remained silent. Few remained on earth and fewer still found themselves in the pages of John Winchester's journals. It would be up to Dean to continue the family tradition of killing monsters; angels included. It was time for revenge.
Dry air whipped past the young boy's face when he leaned out the window. It ruffled his blond hair as he turned to smile at the man driving the '67 Chevy Impala. John Winchester was a no-nonsense kind of guy. His clothing was worn down in places. His large hands were dirty and grim mixed with the unshaven shadow across his jaw. Dean didn't notice the dark circles under his father's eyes. John was invincible to his little boy. No matter what hid out in the night, John was unafraid. Monsters crept out of dreams for the scent of his blood but only one fed on his mind.
Only one creature unnamed and still unknown except for its presence kept him awake in cold sweat. The one that buried his wife deep into the ground. She had been far too young for the fire that spilt her molten blood in the nursery. The monster of light left him with two little boys and their questions. How could he ever answer all of them? He had no answers. Not even for himself.
The Impala roared over a lonely highway and the stars were cold. It was time to find the answers he sought and hopefully before he lost all sense of the man he once was. Already the father his boys needed was disappearing.
John tiredly took a sip out of his mug and passed it to Dean. He took a sniff of the strong coffee and took a glance over at his father. John nodded at him and smiled when Dean grimaced and took a sip out of the coffee in an attempt to seem manly. He swallowed it quickly and pulled a face only for a moment. This was his first real hunt with his father and he needed to prove that he was strong enough for this. He wanted his father to know that he didn't need to be alone. He felt brave in the worn passenger seat.
Sammy was bundled up in the warmth of Uncle Bobby's house. The littlest Winchester still believed in Santa Claus. Dean grinned at the thought. How silly. He had known for a whole year that a fatty in red didn't spread around joy and eat all of the cookies in the house. But Dean did know that other things existed and he had trouble telling little Sammy a lie. Yes, monsters lived literally under the bed in some cases. Sammy didn't need to know; he had Dean to protect him. It was for his safety. John always reminded him that. Sometimes Dean wondered if John forgot that he was a little boy as well. That was before Dean also began to forget.
"Are we going to gank a Wendigo?" Dean peeked over at his father worriedly. The story in his father's journal about that one never ceased to scare him.
"No Dean. Carver got wind of an angel holed up in these mountains. Stupid things still don't realize that we still dominant these United States."
Dean bit the inside of his cheek. "I dunno Daddy. They don't sound so tough to me. Wings and harps? We can take them down easy. Can we find a demon instead?"
"You'd be surprised buddy. Angels are what messed this place up. We have it better here but in other places of the world? It's all gone to shit."
"It's all gone to shit." Dean repeated and glanced out the window. Something was spooked by the headlights but it was smart. A dark shape bounded out of Dean's eye sight even before he realized it had been there. He yawned widely.
"Go to sleep Dean. No need for you to be too tired tomorrow."
Dean rubbed his eyes and sat up. "I'm alright Dad. Why are the angels such dicks?"
"Dean, just because I talk garbage doesn't mean that you need to. Don't use that kind of language."
"Yes sir." Dean scowled. "Can you answer the question?"
John sighed. "The apocalypse. Angels were supposed to be the guardians of everything and they went and blew up the world. China's off the map and I know for a fact that all of Europe was hit pretty hard."
"The apocalypse?"
"Yes. They chose to have their little pissing match on our planet but they aren't getting off so easy. Elkins found out how to kill them. We will be prepared this time." Dean nodded and glanced over that the moth-eaten bag. Something shone silver and piercing from a rip in the side. John wouldn't let him touch the bag.
"How do you kill an angel?"
John glanced over at the bag. "With the thing in there. It's rumored that holy fire works as well, which is why you need to hang onto the flask of oil. And don't lose your lighter."
"So I can deep fry me an angel?"
John smiled. "That's my boy." Dean gave him a large grin back. He loved when John smiled.
Music blared and discouraged Dean from asking any more questions. He didn't mind. Sometimes it was nice to sit back with the cool air on his face, Led Zeppelin loud on the radio. Dean was about to fall asleep when he heard John singling softly along with the music. He pretended to be asleep as he hugged his father's large jacket around him. Tangerine. He always played that song when he missed Mama. He sang along for a moment as well until his willpower ran out and he fell asleep.
John shifted gears as they drove off the highway and Dean stirred. He sat up. How long had he been asleep? Dean glanced over at the watch on his father's wrist and tried to tell the time. He squinted at it a moment before giving up. John rolled up the windows as dust collected along the edge of the window. It had been a dry summer. Dean rather loved the sound of rain on the window and metal roof but the skies remained stubbornly clear.
"Are we almost there?"
John glanced over at Dean. "Yeah buddy. Let's pull over here. We don't need to give them any warning that we are coming."
Dean nodded and quietly opened the door as a bag of chips spilled over the forest floor. He glanced over at John but his father hadn't noticed. "Put on a real jacket Dean and leave mine in the car. You have that pistol?"
"Yes sir." Dean glanced down at the weapon in his hands. "But… this won't work on angels, will it?"
"Probably not." John shook his head as he gripped the worn out duffel bag. "But there are things out there that it will work on. Never forget that Dean. You hunt monsters and you are always in danger. A buddy of mine went after a vamp once armed with dead man's blood and the works. Guess what killed him?"
Dean scrunched up his face thoughtfully. "Not a vampire."
John smiled. "That's right. He was the best shot I knew but without a gun with silver bullets a werewolf tore him to pieces. Our job is all about making enemies not friends."
Dean frowned. "That doesn't sound very fun to me."
"It's not. Just remember that we aren't the only hunters out there. Something might even be hunting us now."
Dean swallowed and stayed close to his father. Something howled in the blue hills but Dean blamed the emergence of goosebumps on the cold night air. "What should I do?"
"Hang onto that pistol Dean and shoot at whatever you see. I will take care of the angel."
Dean hurried to keep up with his father whose long strides kept him just out of Dean's vision. Leaves crunched under their boots but the rest of the night was far too silent. Dean glanced around wide-eyed and wished he was home with little Sammy. Being tough didn't sound so important when you actually had to be tough. The bed he left behind was warm. Maybe Bobby would have made some of that spiced apple cider and he was telling Sam one of his funny hunting stories.
A twig snapped and Dean was ready with his gun on point. He paused and a scrawny fox slunk out of the underbrush, eyes gleaming green and gold in the glare of the flashlight. It stood on thin bawdy legs and had a stubborn tuft of hair behind its ear that stuck out at an odd angle. John marched over and the creature slunk off into the night.
"What was that Dean?"
Dean let out the breath he hadn't know he was holding in. "Just a fox. Did you see him? Dumb son of a bitch just stood there!"
"Why didn't you shoot?"
Dean glanced over at his father who ran a hand through his untidy hair looking tired. "It was just some fox Dad."
"You shoot when you hear anything weird, got it? If that had been something else your guts would be all over the ground by now."
"But if I shot first I would have killed him!"
John placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Yes Dean. Sometimes you have to make some sacrifices out here. Your instincts are all you have."
"Not all, I have a gun." Dean muttered as John frowned down at him.
"What was that?"
"Nothing sir." Dean felt relieved that he had found the fox before his father. The wind picked up and Dean once more hurried after John's quiet footsteps. For what seemed like forever to a small, tired boy, Dean and his father tracked through the woods.
"Look at this buddy." John reached out an arm to stop Dean. A light trail of blood and something slivery dotted across rotten leaves. "It must be injured."
Dean swallowed and nodded. "Do you think it hurts?"
"I should hope so. Any advantage we have against them, we need to take."
"What if they are scared of the other…things in the forest?" It seemed so lonely to him. Angels had mostly been hunted to extinction after the war when many of the angels returned to heaven. Dean wondered if he was the only one who wondered why some had stayed on earth. He wondered if it had been a choice.
"Are we still talking about angels Dean? Those cutthroat bastards had no qualms killing off your mother and grandfather."
Bitterness dripped from his voice and Dean could see it resurfaced in the fresh pools of blood. Something bitter had taken its jaws to an angel. Were angels really the evil ones? Now Dean was tracking something that he told himself he was ready to kill. It was time to avenge his mother. Dean hoisted up his pack and gripped onto the gun. Daddy said they were evil and he wasn't ready for another debate since this really was his first hunt after all. How many had John gone on? He went on enough to skip most holidays and even missed Dean's latest birthday.
"Dean, come on son. Quietly now." The spills of blood ran thin in the moonlight and Dean swore he still saw silver threading through the deep red. His boot dipped into the shimmering blood and he felt its heat through the sole of his boot. He shivered.
"Dad?" John motioned Dean into silence.
A group of trees twisted together through a river. A small island of wet earth emerged and there was a dark shape upon it. John stepped forward and Dean took his place as his shadow once more. John cocked his head to the side and Dean nodded two times. He watched his father as he made his way towards the island. The silver blade gleamed coldly as Dean watched his father tuck it under the left side of his coat. Dean stood at the edge of the river and felt it lap cold and wet at his boots. He watched his father make his way silently through the water. He heard a soft sound and turned slowly only to lock eyes with a small boy his own age. Blue. Deep dark blue sent his senses reeling. He noticed the large white wings behind the boy and remembered what his father told him to do. Kill the angel. He accidently left off a bullet into the other angel's shoulder instead of reaching for the flask and lighter. The eyes widened in confusion and fear. Dean felt ill when he watched the blood oozing out of the thin shoulder as the boy collapsed onto the ground.
"Dean? Are you alright?"
"Yes!" Dean's voice was shaky at first. "I'm fine! It was…" He glanced down at the shivering angel. "Erm…just a squirrel."
"Alright Dean, I'll be over there in a couple of minutes."
Dean looked over at the angel with the blue eyes only to find an older girl tugging him away. "Come on Castiel, hurry!" Her dirty red hair was bright and only slightly less unruly than the little boy's. Two other boys glared suspiciously from the shadows .The youngest one…Castiel… tried to run and fell.
Castiel sat up looking baffled at Dean. "I am not a squirrel." Dean mouthed wordlessly for a moment before holding out a hand to him. Castiel looked curiously up at him before he let his fingers curl over Dean's. His hand was very soft and Dean didn't want to let go.
"Castiel, come on!" A sandy haired angel pulled him away from Dean and pushed him into the forest. Another stuck out his tongue rudely before gallivanting into the forest. A flask whistled past Dean's ear and covered yet another boy as he tried to run past Dean.
"Get him Dean!" Dean didn't know what to do so he wrapped his arms around the angel and held him to his chest. The boy writhed and tried to escape.
"Annias!" One of the angels began to cry as John poured a circle around the angel and his son with another flask of oil.
"Come here Dean." John lifted his son out of the ring and dropped a lighter onto its glistening surface.
"Dad? What are you-" Flames blazed around the trapped angel. John whipped out his gun and shot him straight in the stomach with a bullet. It was just enough force to send him reeling backwards and into the hungry flames. Dean covered his eyes as the heat blazed and screams rattled through his ears.
"Dean! Don't let the others escape!" Dean watched the angels disappear into the woods.
Dean wandered back numbly to find the singed remains and the fire burning low. His father was already looking over the dark trace of wings that burnt into the forest floor. "They're gone." Dean sat down next to his father and cried. His chest hurt. He felt his father lift him up and didn't remember being carried to the Impala. He heard his father's voice echoing past his aching head.
"Elkins? Good I finally got a signal. Are you here yet? I found the angels." He emphasized the 's' and chuckled. "Yeah there was more than we planned for. And they're reproducing. I stabbed the oldest and burnt another. I'm betting the others will return to the area to check out their dead…you're on it? Good. I'm taking Dean back. He can't handle this stuff yet. What? Yeah I know he's too young. Take care Elkins." He hung up his cell and glanced over at his sleeping boy. It was true; the last remnants of the angels could be killed. John smiled grimly. They would win this war.