Okay, here's the next part. Hope you guys are all enjoying!! Enormous thank you to Alisa for all of the support.
---SN---
Another agonizing week had passed by, and there had been two more incidents. Sam was pretty sure he was close to their demon, and Dean was climbing the walls, ready to kill something. Anything. Just for the instant satisfaction he'd "hunted" the spider that had made itself a home in the top corner of the room. But if he had to inspect another crime scene that looked like it should belong in some sick twisted horror movie, he knew he would lose it.
Every crime scene held small clues. It was almost like the demon was taunting them, leaving them calling cards. He couldn't figure out if the demon was just stupid, or if it was actually one of the smarter ones. And that kind of scared him.
And to top it all off, the town was beginning to lose their trust in the boys. They would need it if they had any hopes of gaining information. Whispers of "useless FBI" and "if they can't help they need to fuck off" could be heard, even at the local diner. Forget even being able to go to the local bar.
The police scanner in the corner cracked to life, and the dispatcher's voice gravely informed all listening of another attack, another scene. Sam and Dean looked at each other, their eyes meeting as they sought the strength to face another demonic after party.
"I don't think I can do this," Sam confessed, and for a moment Dean almost confessed the same.
"Come on Sammy, we'll find this little bitch and waste him before he can do it again." This job, along with their repeated failed attempts at pinpointing the culprit, was wearing them down, but regardless they had to trudge on. With heavy hearts and even heavier foot steps, they left for the next slaughter.
--
Dean was studying the bodies, looking for their next clue, fighting queasiness of his own. Sam stayed outside, talking to a kid with a bright green mohawk and a skateboard.
The cops were stumped, but no one was ready to admit there was anything more than a serial killer on the loose. It amazed Sam that they could overlook everything that was going on.
The newest crime involved folks at a dive bar. It might have started out as karaoke night, but ended with the patrons all dead, their faces completely gone. One cop described it as if someone had placed a bomb inside their heads, blowing their faces clean off. Nothing remained from their hairline to their chin, and Dean frowned in disgust. The body on the stage still clutched the microphone as lay crumpled beneath the karaoke screen, which was obscured by the singer's own face. Or at least he was pretty sure it was the guy's face, it looked like the tip of his nose still hung from the screen's corner.
Dean noticed a small metal plate on the table in front of one of the victims. Reaching carefully so he didn't disturb the mass that was once that person's face, he plucked the plate and slipped it into his pocket.
Sam swallowed back bile as he spoke with the next witness. This one had to be the worst, and he knew they were running out of time to figure this out.
"Can you send it to me?" Sam asked after the boy had revealed he'd gotten a picture of the pair on his camera phone. The pair was now widely becoming known through out the small community as having been spotted at every disaster as it happened. The newspapers screamed the supernatural, but the law enforcement hushed any talk about it and played it off as the town "just being dramatic".
The kid shrugged, but soon Sam had a copy of the pair leaving the bar. The kid had been outside the bar going back and forth on his board in the parking lot, waiting for his older friends to come back out with the booze, when he had heard the screams, and then had seen the pair emerge. He was convinced it had been THE pair, so he took a picture.
Where was his reward? Sam directed him to the nearest police officer. He watched as Dean came into sight, looking like he'd stolen the golden cookie.
"What?" Sam asked as Dean walked past him and headed for the Impala.
"I think I just found the sonsa bitches," Dean answered, not hesitating as he climbed in.
"Bout time," Sam muttered, looking forward to putting the pair out of their misery.
--
"I don't know Dean; I just think it's too obvious. They want us to find them, and that can't be good," Sam argued as he watched Dean load his duffel with every demon tool they had.
"Well, then they're not exactly the brightest crayons in the box and we should have no problems," Dean answered, not slowing.
"You don't think this could be some sort of trap? They've played with us all week, and now they're letting us know where they are? You don't think that seems suspicious at all?"
"Sammy Sammy, you worry too much," Dean smirked. "They're probably just enjoying themselves, and probably have no clue who we are or why we're here. They're getting sloppy because they're getting cocky, that's all. The cops in this town couldn't arrest a jaywalker let alone arrest their so-called serial killers."
Sam glanced at the metal plate once more. It was the address for one of the local warehouses, and after some digging they found the plates were used to identify equipment that the warehouse had operated. After some digging, they had found out that the warehouse had suffered a bad fire some years ago, and had been abandoned ever since. Perfect place for two sadistic demons to go and celebrate their victories later.
The boys surmised that they were dealing with lower level demons sent to cause havoc and destruction. There seemed to be no real purpose behind their attacks, no pattern to establish that they were in fact targeting a specific group of people. They had even attacked a nursing home, turning it inside out as well as many of the residents.
"You ready?" Dean asked, shrugging into his coat.
"Yeah," Sam replied, unable to quell that uneasy feeling.
--
The warehouse was quiet, dark, and perfect. They decided the Winchesters needed to die like they had lived…alone and in the dark.
-
Every hair stood on end, every nerve thrummed as adrenaline shot through their limbs. They were on edge, ready for the hunt, ready for the kill.
Their whole life they had trained endlessly for fights like tonight, and they would not fail. They didn't know how.
-
They knew the moment their prey entered their domain. They had come on foot…but they knew better. The playing field was set…
-
Dean entered first, releasing a low whistle as he eyed the spacious warehouse.
Half of the roof was missing, and a large hole gaped where the fire had raged on. It had been cleared out years ago, now all that stood was the empty shell, withering and decaying in the elements. Along the south wall, large wooden and cardboard boxes sat hap hazardously; most of them ready to fall at the slightest disturbance. It was an accident waiting to happen.
Sam entered closely behind, his eyes covering their back trail as his senses went into overdrive. That familiar flutter he always got before a show down was back, his nervousness not unshared by his older sibling. It was like stepping out onto a stage in front of a crowd of people with little butterflies tickling your stomach. Once in the heat of battle, that feeling vanished, and it would promptly be forgotten in the aftermath of the battle.
A feeling of being watched overwhelmed them, and they knew in that moment they were no longer alone. Their eyes met, and they silently set their plan into motion.
Sam circled back, molding himself into the shadows and staying low, crouching and running behind the boxes. Trying to keep attention on himself, Dean stayed more out in the open, hoping to make the demons careless and to draw them out.
He didn't have to wait long. He'd gotten halfway across the warehouse when a figure materialized from the shadows. He couldn't see the thing's face, but he knew it was their demon.
"Dean Winchester I presume?" His voice was low and clear, almost seductive as he let out a small laugh.
"And who the hell are you?" Dean asked, his hand reaching for the flask of holy water in his back pocket. Not once did his eyes leave the figure, and his ears strained for any sounds being made by his brother.
"My name is not important. Just know I will be the last thing you hunt." The man stepped into the seedy moonlight pouring from one of the various holes in the back half of the roof.
Dean scoffed, sizing up his enemy. He was older, had to be possessing a man no younger than 50. "What makes you so confident?" Dean asked, still trying to pick up on the location of his youngest brother. Damn the kid was good, the area he had disappeared to was silent.
Meanwhile Sam settled, and pulled out his handgun, keeping an aim on the man confronting Dean.
The gun might be useless, but if things got dicey he could at least fire and give Dean the time to escape. They had soaked their bullets in holy water, so at least the small metal pieces would sting like a son of a bitch.
He never saw the second figure advancing.
"So where's that brother of yours?" the man asked, catching Dean off guard.
"Taking down your partner. But let's skip the small talk and get down to business," Dean said, his gut slightly clenching at the demon's mention of his brother. So much for making him think he was alone.
"Oh I hardly consider young Sam small talk. He's quite the celebrity among our ranks…everyone wants a piece of him."
"It ain't gonna happen," Dean said simply, a million threats pouring out in that one small sentence.
"You speak too soon," the man replied, his eyes narrowing.
Shit, Dean thought as he watched the man's eyes narrow. He felt the hum of power as it surrounded him, and then he was sent flying. The flask of holy water hit the ground before he did, but he barely acknowledged it's presence as he landed next to it. A loud crack sounded, breaking the split second of silence, and soon Sam was landing next to him.
The brothers stood, helping each other up. Dean's eyes followed Sam's flight path, and he noted the shattered boxes. Something had sent his brother through the boxes.
"I found the second one," Sam got out through clenched teeth, unconsciously grasping at his ribs. He had landed wrong, and he knew he probably had at least two bruised, if not cracked, ribs.
"Thank you Captain Obvious," Dean returned, sure that he'd broken his tailbone. Sitting in the Impala was going to be a bitch now.
"Oh come now boys, tell me you have more than that!" the second man taunted as he made himself known. This one appeared to be no older than Dean, but the smile lighting up his face made him look years younger, almost child-like. "I thought you were the mighty mighty Winchesters!"
"Leave your freak-o abilities out of the fight and we'll show you mighty," Dean said, stepping slightly forward. He didn't like the way the 50 year old was staring at Sam.
"Oh Dean, I forgot what a pain in the ass I heard you were. Go sit in the corner," the younger man said, whipping Dean away. Dean grunted as he hit the opposite wall, his vision threatening to go black as he tasted copper. Through his double vision, Dean smirked. He could really give Superman a run for his money with all of the flying he was doing lately.
The demons began to advance on Dean, losing track of the danger behind them.
"Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in noimine Jesu Christi Filii ejus," Sam began to whisper, trying not to let the demons hear him. "Domini et Judicis nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti, ut descedas ab hoc plasmate Dei, quod Dominus noster ad templum sanctum suum vocare dignatus est, ut fiat templum Dei vivi, et Spiritus Sanctus habitet in eo…" He got no further into the Catholic exorcism before his voice was cut off.
Pain had begun to flare, and Simon had known something was wrong. "Uh uh uh Sam," the older demon said, wagging a finger at him. "That's a no no."
"Don't harm him Simon," the younger man said, clutching at his stomach as the pain from the exorcism receeded, and turning his attention back to Dean.
"You just do your part and I'll do mine Marcus," Simon replied, his expression cold and bitter.
It was difficult to draw in breath. Sam could feel the invisible vice around his throat, tightening with each struggle. He stopped struggling, and weakly whispered, "…Per eumdem Christum Dominum nostrum, qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos, et saeculum per ignem."
The combined scream of the demons was inhuman, and the warehouse filled with a brilliant white light. A small explosion rocked the abandoned property, and then all fell silent.
Dean lay in a heap on the floor, having lost his battle to stay conscious. Sam lay feet from him; the blast had sent him sprawling into a pile of forgotten support beams. He'd lost consciousness on impact.
The demons, and their hosts, were gone.
---SN---
More soon, thanks for coming out to play. -smile-