Title:The Road of the Damned (2/?)
Rating: M. Violence, blood and gore kids!
Pairings: None this chapter
Genre: Horror/Drama
Spoilers: None this chapter
Warnings: graphic gore, blood, violence. The usual ;)
...
Demons were real. Vampires were real. So were ghosts, and werewolves, and all manner of uglies that went bump in the night.
Dean knew that, had learnt it the hard way over the years. Maybe hell was real too. Monsters had to come from somewhere, and maybe there really was a pit of fiery damnation down there, where little goat men poked each other with pitchforks.
It sounded almost nice compared to here.
The creature moved through the darkness, and Dean tracked it, recognizing the controlled careful movement as it brushed up against the wards.
There were monsters, yes. And then there were…them.
They had no name. If they did, no-one ever dared say it, as if acknowledging their existence out loud might somehow summon them. Maybe it did. No-one knew where they came from or what their purpose was, but everyone knew what they wanted.
They wanted blood, and suffering, and death. They were ghouls, wraiths; the living undead that howled at the moon and gorged on blood. They were everything and nothing, something so undeserving of existing that even nature cowered away from them.
The trees were silent, leaves shivering fearfully as the creature shifted in the darkness. Dean could hear the whisper of its bare feet against the grass, could see its pale eyes as it moved into the weak light of the moon.
It had been a woman once, and a pretty one. She had probably been a student of some kind; her shredded and stained sweatshirt still boasted a faded school logo, hidden beneath a dark slick of dried blood. She had been human, until a monster slipped beneath her skin. It had stretched its putrid self across her bones and squeezed itself into the wet recesses of her veins. It had plucked a dark crescendo across her nerves, her thrumming ligaments its pitch as it performed a sonata of corruption upon her very soul.
It had consumed her until there was nothing left of the person she had been. It had eaten away at her, piece by piece, until she wasn't human anymore; not dead, not alive.
Now, she was one of them.
Blotches of black decay bloomed beneath her ribs through the tatters in her shirt as she squatted up against the wards, staring down at the scrawled symbols and letters curiously. A crooked and bloody finger poked at one symbol, and the letter crackled ominously, glowing slightly. The creature withdrew hurriedly, avoiding a potential crispy death. She hissed unhappily towards the car, and Dean caught a glimpse of yellowed pointed teeth, the abnormal stretch of her mouth.
Shit.
Other shapes were moving in the shadows, and the creature swung around, long greasy hair flopping lifelessly against one sallow shoulder. Flashes of white glowed in the dark, and Dean hunkered down further. It was the eyes that freaked him out the most; the milky glazed film that covered their otherwise blank gaze. Only the dead looked like that, and the dead should stay that way.
Cursing under his breath, Dean turned in his seat, flailing with one hand to smack Sam hard on the shoulder.
"Sam!" he hissed through clenched teeth, eyes darting back towards where the creatures were gathering. "We got company!"
Sam blinked awake hurriedly, rolling onto his side to lean under the seat. When he sat back up he had a shotgun in one hand. He gave himself a little shake, leaning forward towards where Dean was. This was normal for them, a situation they had faced before.
"How many?" he asked, voice cracking slightly. "Is it a pack?"
Dean grimaced out the window. "Enough that I dared wake your ass up from your beauty sleep. It's too late anyways Samantha, you'll never be prom queen."
Grabbing two loose shells from the messy car floor, Sam loaded the shotgun with practiced ease. "Well, you'd know."
The shotgun clicked in the cramped interior of the Impala, and Dean watched the creatures outside, expecting them to hear the noise. A male had joined the female toeing the wards, his overlarge rotting belly jiggling as he moved beside her. They moved so gracefully, despite their decay. If Dean were the shallow and seriously messed up type, he might envy them.
Sam leant between the front seats, eyes wide and curious. "I haven't seen such a big pack in a while. Food must be getting scarce."
Dean glared at his little brother, giving him a shove. "Well gee Sam, fascinating," he said sarcastically. "Does the Professor have any ideas on how to get rid of them?"
Sam shot him a bitch-face. "We just gotta wait them out. They don't like the sun right? We'll just wait until then."
The brothers fell silent as the female approached the wards again. She peered down at the wards with her milky eyes, trailing her cracked and rotting fingers along the edges of the symbols. They glowed warningly, but she didn't move any closer. The male beside her scuttled backwards with a hiss, greying chins wobbling. A bloody chasm burrowed into his cheek, and as the brothers watched, a splatter of black blood squelched through the hole, dribbling down an already stained path along his neck and shoulder.
The female ignored him, pressing her finger more firmly against a symbol. Her finger crackled, fire beginning to set in the bone, but she didn't react.
Dean growled to himself. "Doesn't look like that's an option, Sam. She'll break through it long before then."
"Yeah right," Sam shook his head with a disbelieving chuckle. "Like they have the intelligence to do that."
Pulling away from the wards, the female looked at her smoldering finger curiously. The flesh peeled back in blackened strips, curling as she touched it. Her white eyes seemed brighter suddenly, and slowly she turned back to the male, crooning to him softly as she held out her finger.
Dean almost looked away, knew that he'd probably just feel sick if he watched. The creatures ate everything; corpses, monsters, hell, they even ate each other. A light finger snack was probably nothing for them.
But he continued to watch as the fat male moved close, mouth stretching wide as he reached for her. Green globules of slime clung to the corners of his mouth, his piggy dead eyes gleeful at the anticipated meal.
Just as he drew in close, the female dropped her hand. With a snarl, she darted in quickly, grabbing him by one thick, fleshy fold. He flailed stupidly as she pulled and twisted, dragging him a few paces forward. Her rotten teeth clicked as she chattered at him, and she even shot him what might have been a smile, before shoving hard.
The male slammed to the ground and the Impala shook on her frame, the wards lighting up the night in a furious glow of red.
The Winchesters could only watch in horrified awe as the large creature jerked and screamed; face first on the wards. The smell of burning flesh filled the car, and with a grimace, Dean shut the air vents, turning to glare at Sam viciously.
"You were saying?"
Sam swallowed heavily, watching as the female reached out a grey foot to test her suddenly clear path towards the car.
"Well…fuck."
The Impala screeched on her frame, rocking back and forth alarmingly. Dean hunkered down in the passenger seat, revolver clutched in bloodless fingers. He stared up at the roof of the car, listening to the enraged grunting and snarling above as the creatures wrestled with the cage; furious their attempts at an easy meal had been foiled by such a small thing. One slavered next to him out the window, rotting teeth clamped around the cage and tugging furiously. Dark congealed blood dropped from its mouth, teeth stripped as it moved and Dean had been resolutely ignoring it for the past half hour.
Sam was perched nervously in the backseat; ready with the shotgun in case one managed to smash a window.
"I forgot how much this sucks," he muttered, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. "It's been a while since they've actually gotten past the wards."
A splatter of black and red spittle hit the window next to Dean's cheek.
"They're getting smarter," he glanced unhappily at the mess on his baby. "And grosser."
Sam grunted in agreement. The female, probably the leader of the little gaggle that currently was using the Impala as a playground, had pasted herself across the hood of the car. She crouched there, white eyes unwavering as she stared Dean down. Now and then she would emit a screech and the creatures on the roof would double their efforts, rocking the car crazily. Dean wasn't worried; if they managed to tip over the car they'd still have just as hard a time getting in. John had reinforced everything.
Suddenly, the female jerked up, spine stiffening.
Her eyes were huge; ragged nostrils flaring. Dean blinked and she was gone, crawling down off the car and across her still smoldering bridge in a few jerky movements. The others followed her, screeching to one another.
It was then that both brothers could hear voices. Human voices.
Sam lurched forward, nearly clocking Dean in the face as he dragged his mammoth frame between the seats to peer out the windshield.
"Holy shit, Dean," he hissed, eyes wide. "It's those hitchhikers!"
Dean had to shove Sam's head out of the way, squinting against the low flare of the wards to pick out shapes in the dark.
Sure enough, the two ragged men they had passed on the road pushed through the bushes. They looked even worse close up, the shreds of their clothes barely hanging on. They were dirty; the shorter one's forehead gash more black in the dim light.
Dean shook his head. "Well they're dead. Poor bastards."
The creatures didn't move towards the two new arrivals, the female merely hissing at them warningly as they approached.
"Hey check it out!" the shorter man clapped his hands together, smiling widely. "It's a party!"
His companion looked nervous, eyeing the creatures warily as they growled and hissed. "Gabriel, I do not think this is wise."
The short man snorted. "Which part of this whole messed up situation seems wise, Castiel? Welcome to reality."
The Winchesters shared an incredulous look. Gabriel? Castiel?
Dean stifled a groan. It was worse than he thought. Poor religious bastards.
The female lurched towards the two men, hissing unhappily as she paced an invisible line in front of them. The shorter one, Gabriel, looked unimpressed, crossing his arms.
"Am I meant to be scared? Honey, don't even try."
"Gabriel." The other, Castiel, hissed. "Do not antagonize them. They can still-"
The female rose to her full height, and Dean fully expected to see the two men die horribly. Instead the female seemed to just stand there, shaking. Wait no, she was, she was…
Laughing.
She tossed her head back, spine cracking and bones shifting against one another with a squeak.
"Anzu," she growled, and Dean almost died from shock right then and there. "Summu nura ninsuna."
The vocal chords of her body were rotten, barely held together by thin strings of gristle. But it wasn't a single voice that she spoke with, but what sounded like many. It rumbled across the clearing, and Dean quaked at the sound of it, Sam grabbing him hard. Sam was trembling, his fingers digging painful grooves into Dean's arm.
Gabriel didn't look as impressed. In fact he looked…scandalized. "Oh no you didn't you little skank!"
He lunged for her but she scuttled away, impossibly fast. Gruff bursts of laughter were shaken from the creatures around them, and nervously, Castiel reached out for his friend.
"Gabriel, please," he pulled the shorter man back, away from the chuffing female. "Our strength is waning; they do us a great service by leaving us be."
"Did you hear what she called me?" Gabriel glared viciously towards where the creature had retreated, her mouth open wide in a parody of a smile. Dark slime oozed from her gums, her tongue blackened as she flicked it against her sharp teeth.
"Sut resi alaksu qabu salmat qaqqadi," she purred. "Sa ana sepiya."
Gabriel pointed threateningly towards her. "And I say you can go boil your rotten head. Our humans, we saw them first. I'm calling dibs."
The mirth she had displayed only seconds before disappeared, and she snarled, blue lips stretched over her greying gums. The others copied her, all crouching low to the ground and hissing.
Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes. "See what you have done? Really brother-"
Before he could finish his sentence, the smaller man was off, rolling up the sleeves on his tattered shirt and stomping towards the hissing creature gleefully.
"It's clobberin' time," he growled. "I'll show you ninsuna!"
Dean heard Sam's sharp intake of breath as the small guy just went for it; lunging at the creature and dragging her down to the ground. The clearing erupted into noise; screeching and yowling as the remaining creatures all lunged for Castiel.
"We should help," Sam said, already jiggling the door handle, struggling with the locks. "They're gonna get themselves killed."
"Godammit Sam this isn't our-"
But his brother was already gone, releasing the cage and shoving the door open. Standing behind the open door, he opened fire with the shotgun. A scrawny male went down; the blast opening his back and shattering his spine.
Swearing furiously, Dean unlocked his side, heart pounding. "If we die," he muttered, fingers slipping against the metal. "I'm kicking your ass."
The boom of his revolver joined Sam's shotgun, and the creatures wailed, turning away from their attack on the hitchhikers. They fled into the darkness, some scuttling on all fours like crabs. The last to leave was the female, and she turned to glower fiercely towards Dean. He shot at her, but she dodged easily, disappearing after her pack.
Dean watched them go, unnerved. It shouldn't be that easy. It was never that easy.
Gabriel swayed on his feet, looking bloodier and rougher than before. He grinned though, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Yeah! That's what I'm talking about! You better run!" he shouted towards the retreating shapes.
His companion hurried over, the dude looking relatively unscathed. "I told you to desist, Gabriel. You could have gotten us killed!"
The two started bickering between themselves, oblivious to the Winchesters. Sam stifled a smile, electing to kick at the dead smoldering fat guy when Dean glared over at him.
Keeping his revolver trained on the bickering men, Dean cleared his throat loudly. Both men stopped their arguing, and Dean tapped his revolver on the roof of the car pointedly.
"Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?" he asked wryly.
Shoving Castiel behind him, Gabriel held his hand up.
"Oh um, hi," he waggled his fingers in greeting. "Winchesters right? I'm Gabriel, this is Castiel. Thanks for not picking us up earlier. Jerks."
Dean kept his gun trained on them, frowning hard.
"How did you find us?" he demanded. "Even running, you shouldn't have been able to catch up."
"And what was that?" Sam interrupted, shotgun held loosely in his hands. "They were speaking, we've never-
"Sam!" Dean barked, furious that his brother would relax so easily. "Interrogation time! Not happy-make-friends time!"
Sam withdrew sheepishly, hoisting his shotgun back up.
Gabriel watched the two of them bemusedly. "We found you because we've been looking, for your information we did run and now thanks to you I've got blisters on my blisters, fuck you very mu-"
"I will take it from here, Gabriel." His companion interrupted, his voice low as he stepped more into view. Dean shivered, a ghost finger trailing up his spine. The dude was staring at him like he was familiar, apparently at ease with giving people way too intimate looks. Dean had to drop his intimidating glare to somewhere around the guy's jaw, suddenly embarrassed.
"We have been searching for you for many days now," Castiel continued. "We were able to fly up until a week ago, and then we had to traverse by foot. It was very tedious. But when we saw you today-"
"Wait, wait, wait," Sam interrupted again. "Fly? You guys can fly?"
Castiel looked over at him like it was no big deal. Like it was completely natural. "Yes. It is a gift we have now given up, but we were able to retain it long enough to locate the general area you were in and the-"
"Hold up." Dean waved his revolver and Castiel trailed off, turning to stare at him again. "I'm still stuck on the flying part. Just what the hell are you two? Fairies?"
Gabriel crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow petulantly. "The names didn't give it away? We're angels, dickwad."
"Were," Castiel said gravely, before Dean even had time to absorb that little nugget of information. "But we mustn't waste time. It is highly likely the mahorela-avini will return in greater numbers. I have exhausted the last vestiges of my grace, and would not be able to fight them."
Dean was still stuck on the whole angel thing. Judging by Sam's wide eyed blank gaze, he was too.
Gabriel sighed at them both. "We should leave, basically."
Sam shook himself, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "So…angels. Really."
The two looked at each other, sharing exasperated glances.
"We know this is difficult," Castiel said gently, turning back towards Sam. "But we are indeed angels."
"And we're here to help!" Gabriel added brightly. "Sorta. Kinda. Well he is, I'm just along for the ride."
Sam shook his head wondrously. "You called them mahorela-avini. What does that mean?"
"It means 'dark ones'," Castiel told him, dark brows knitted together in a frown. "It is the only word I can think of for them."
Sam's shotgun was held laxly against his thigh, ignoring Dean as his older brother tried to glare holes in Sam's head. "Wow, so you guys have your own language? I mean I read about it of course but I never really thou-"
"Seriously?" Dean finally burst out, and everyone fell silent. The smell of the burnt corpse was suddenly too arid and cloying, Dean felt like throwing up. "Angels? You expect us to believe that?"
Something flashed in Castiel's blue eyes. "I understand this is difficult to believe. But believe you must. We do not have much time, those abominations will return and-"
Dean glared over at him, blood running hotly in his veins. "And who's to say you're not with them, huh? Or part of a gang, or cannibals or some shit?"
To his credit, Castiel didn't seem offended. "If we were any of those things, would we look like we do?"
"Yeah," Gabriel looked down at himself, picking at his clothes. "How many gangs of cannibals do you know that can rock rags?"
Dean shook his head, revolver unwavering. "I'm not buying it. Angels my ass."
Surprisingly, it was Sam who spoke up, kicking out at the burning corpse at his feet sullenly. "Why not, Dean? Vampires, werewolves, those…things sure, but angels? Suddenly that's too much for you?"
Dean gritted his teeth, feeling a headache coming on. "We'll talk about this later, Sam. Get in the car."
"No." Dean dropped his attention from the two in front of him at that, turning to stare incredulously at his brother.
"No?" he echoed. "Get in the car now, Sam. They're crazy delusional weirdos and I'm not about to talk about this anymore."
Sam wasn't going to back down. Dean recognized the flare in his brother's eyes, the stubborn tilt of his chin and shoulders. Shit, he'd done it now.
"I believe them," Sam said loudly, and Gabriel gave him a thumbs up. "We know evil exists, why not something good too?"
Dean made a noise of exasperation, thumping his fist on the Impala in frustration. "Because there is no good Sam!" he snapped. "If not weirdos then they're probably demons, or shapeshifters. Let's just get in the car and get the hell outta dodge."
Castiel moved forward, and Dean swung his revolver back towards him warningly. The supposed angel held up his hands, acknowledging the threat.
"I'm exercising a hell of a lot of self-control not just shooting you on the spot," Dean growled, sensing he was fighting a losing battle. "Don't make me do something I'd love to do."
Gabriel rolled eyes, ignoring Dean's threat. "Wanna dial the testosterone down a notch there kid? Any more manliness and I'm gonna sprout a spontaneous beard."
Dean blustered, taken aback by being called a kid. With a long suffering look, Castiel stepped forward, hands spread.
"Please," he said gently. "We will undergo any test you wish of us. But we must leave."
Gabriel grinned, winking towards Sam. "He never really caught on to the whole lying thing. You can trust Castiel with anything, it's like hanging around with a girl scout half the time. Without the cookies though. Which y'know, sucks."
Castiel kept his eyes on Dean, gaze intense and open. They really didn't look like cannibals, too beaten up and tattered to be gang thugs. And a few quick tests would eliminate the supernatural.
"Trust me," he said quietly, soulful eyes glinting, and Dean felt like he was kicking a puppy. "Please trust me."
And weirdly enough, Dean wanted to.