Chapter One : What's The Plural For Apocalypse?
Post-Apocalypse.
Sam might have called it that-Or hell, maybe Dean had just thought it up. It wasn't as if the details really mattered anymore. Maybe everyone out there was unknowingly celebrating the evasion of disaster, but Dean was stuck right in the middle of it, wondering when exactly the thin seams of his relationships had ever begun to unravel.
If Sam wanted to deny it, fine. Let him. Dean wasn't blind, and he sure as hell saw through that 'nothing happened' or whatever façade Sam was wearing these days as he wore his survival of Hell on his chest like a badge that brought him into that damn rag-tag group of Hunters who sure as hell were not family. Why couldn't Sam see it? They might be blood, but that didn't mean anything-Family was him and Sam, how they used to be, when the two would willingly sell their soul to the nearest crossroad Demon to help the other out of whatever mess they'd fallen into.
Bobby was wistfully enjoying the ability to hunt, clearly forgetting the reason he'd hated it in the first place and Lisa and Ben. Man, Dean wasn't even sure if it still worked anymore. She'd promised they could do this long-distance thing, maybe Dean just wasn't trying hard enough anymore, or maybe he'd woken up and realized Hunting and having a real-life. They were two opposite ends of the scale. You couldn't have both, there just wasn't any way of that happening and it was becoming blatantly clearer by the day as Dean had taken to hiding like a coward from their calls.
Grasping his phone as it began to vibrate, he jabbed the decline button and shoved it back onto the bedside table, rolling onto his back and groaning, fingers pushing through the short choppy hair as he tried to concentrate and ignore the loud typing on the bed next to him.
"Do you need to type that loud?" He muttered against his palms, listening to the male beside him fall silent for a moment.
"I'm trying to research so we can stop Rafael," Sam answered in a firm tone, a tone that clearly said 'shut the fuck up, Dean', which Dean found endearing in the least.
"I know, I know," He grunted in response as Sam made to continue this 'snooty' tone of voice. Lifting himself into a sitting position, Dean glanced over at his brother before swiping the wallet off the table and lifting himself to his feet.
"I'll grab lunch-"
"Get me-"
"Yeah, some crappy salad thing-I think after all this time I'm used to your lady eating habits," Dean scoffed, shoving the wallet into his pocket and picking up his keys as Sam shifted on the bed.
"You think we should call Cas?"
"No."
Sam quirked a brow slightly and shifted to the edge of the bed, balancing his laptop on his knees, "Dean," He began, and Dean could tell just by the tone he was building up to one of his 'encouraging' lectures, whatever that was supposed to mean.
"I get that you're still mad-"
"No, you don't get it, Sammy. Alright? You don't. I lost my brother and all along you were alive-Here I was unable to sleep, to even bother getting out of bed, Sam-And even Bobby and Cas knew, and neither of 'em told me. Cas should've told me," He said firmly, glowering at his brother for a moment.
"Just leave it, alright Sammy? I'm fine," He sighed, assuring the male who clearly wasn't buying a word of it.
It wasn't exactly hard to tell Dean was everything but fine. The real question was why he'd chosen to take it out on their Angelic friend. Since Cas had shown up again, Dean had made sure to pick an argument with the male at every offered chance. Sam figured he'd been ditched the worst where Cas was concerned. Sure, Cas didn't come when Sam called, but Dean had figured that him of all people would've been able to get the Angel off his high…cloud, and get his ass down to Earth.
He'd tried. Day after day. Hell, it'd been months before the pleas for Cas to show up and help him save Sam had stopped and slowly been replaced by him making sure to curse every tunic-wearing asshole up there to God himself.
Cas said they had this special 'bond' or whatever, but the man had just sat up there and watched. As far as Dean was concerned, that was betrayal, and there sure as hell wasn't any way the man was going to forgive him that easy.
Shutting the door behind him, Dean sighed, sliding into his car and starting the machine up, his hands grasping at the wheel for a moment as if trying to steady himself. It wasn't as if he had time to think about his own personal worries when there were dicks like Rafael floating around town, trying to flatten anyone who gets in his way.
"Did you hear that?"
Snapping out of his almost daze, Dean raised a brow at his brother, turning off the car and listening for a moment before scoffing, "You sure you're not going crazy, Sammy?" He questioned, reaching for the key to start the car up again when a scream filled the air and he tensed, glancing over at his brother before reaching into the glove compartment and grasping for a gun, the two wasting no time in heading towards the sound, peering into a backyard.
"Ready?"
A brief nod from Sam, and the man pushed around the corner, his arms extended and a gun pointed directly at a middle-aged woman whose eyes widened significantly and before Dean could explain she'd screamed again.
"Ma'am-Ma'am! We're with the FBI would you stop screaming already?" Dean grumbled, lowering the gun as the female regained herself long enough for the two to dig out their fake badges.
"I'm agent Glover and this is agent Paice," He said, nodding his head in Sam's direction.
"We heard screaming, are you alright?" Sam questioned, crouching beside the female, "What happened?" He urged.
"I-It's the third time-T-they keep coming-" She sobbed, pointing over at a large chicken pen as she apparently lost the last of her ability to talk and the two strode over, Sam groaning when he entered at the smell which seemed to fill the area, as well as a mess of feathers, and mangled rooster and chicken bodies.
"Hey-Sammy," Dean piped up, "Dinner?" He grinned, poking at one of the bodies, not surprised to see that disbelieving look on his brothers face. Apparently hell didn't change the fact Sam couldn't take a joke.
"What do you think did this?"
"Seriously, Sam? You don't just think a neighbours cat or something got in here? This isn't a case, alright? Someone forgot to shut the door and the cat got in. End of story," Dean decided.
"Oh yeah? So, the cat managed to break through corrugated iron?" Sam piped up, indicating his brother over to the solid wall across from them, careful not to step on any of the bodies and poking at a large gaping hole through the metal wall.
"A hungry cat? Don't give me that look, Sammy-What supernatural being has a vendetta against chickens?" Dean scoffed, squinting through the hole, "Hey-" He began, getting to his feet.
"Dean?"
"I think I saw something," Dean insisted, stumbling out of the pen, almost crushing one of the chickens under his shoe before he managed to get out and to the outside of the pen, "I'm sure…" He muttered, glancing up as the bushes ruffled beside him, "Alright you bastard, c'mere," He murmured, wandering forward.
"No," A voice rasped beside him.
"Cas? Jesus-You could give a guy a hard attack," Dean groaned, grasping at his chest.
"We have to leave, now," Castiel enforced as the rustling became loud and Dean turned only to have the Angel zap him back to Sam, then the two were dumped unceremoniously into their hotel room looking lost.
"Christ, Cas. We were busy working, what in the hell is wrong with you?" Dean demanded.
"There was something there-"
"No, really?"
Castiel paused, "I do not appreciate you using the 'sarcasm' on me," He said firmly.
"Well, I don't appreciate you showing up and interfering while we were busy trying to find whatever the hell killed off the next batch of KFC chicken," Dean responded.
"A Basilisk."
Dean paused, staring at the Angel with an affronted expression, "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It makes sense…" Sam trailed off.
"Would someone explain what the hell a Basilisk is?"
AN:/ A Basilisk, or a Cockatrice are the names of a creature which is able to kill just by meeting your eyes, or turn a person to stone if they're to look into the eyes of the creature through a reflection. Some myth describes them as a giant snake, but I'm going for the old myth that they're a giant, ugly rooster that is hatched from the egg of a chicken incubated by a frog or a toad, only because I think the creature is much cooler in design than just a large snake. The reasoning behind it's mutilation of the chickens and roosters is that in most myth, the Basilisk can be killed by the crow of a rooster. And just as a side note, the agent names that Dean used was the last name of two key members of Deep Purple.