Chapter Three: Back In The Village
Cunningham whistled along with the song on the radio as he drove home at five o'clock. He had been eager to finish up early and head home but he didn't want to look suspicious so he'd stayed for his entire shift. He wasn't bothered though, the monster wasn't going anywhere.
Cunningham had heard a couple of the other fellows talking about a body or body parts that were found that very morning just outside of Brentwood, along that trail hikers frequented.
They couldn't have found the grave, could they? Cunningham wondered. He just shrugged his shoulders- the police would only find monsters- and he knew of other hiding places all around the town to bury the bodies.
Cunningham pulled into the driveway of his house and shut off the engine. He stepped out of the van and stretched.
His house was just beyond Brentwood town line, sprawling and old. It even had a large, detached two-car or hobby garage in the back which had been perfect for keeping the monsters.
The house itself was the same one he'd lived in all his life. The outside even looked the same, despite being in a state of disrepair and that the gardens had gone to seed; Cunningham would always think of the place as Mom and Pop's.
Instead of going inside for a shower, like he normally would do, Cunningham walked across the lawn and unhooked the padlock from the side door of the garage. There were two big double doors for cars but Cunningham rarely used those. He stepped inside and flipped the switch. Yellow light filtered down from the half dozen bare bulbs hanging from the roof. The cement floor was cleared of debris except for a workbench along the far wall. The monster was chained up in a corner- the farthest from the doorways- secured to a metal support beam (one of many) that made up the skeleton of the building.
The monster blinked in the sudden light as Cunningham walked forward, completely calm, he was desensitized to any of their tricks. Cunningham was deaf to their crying and screaming and begging and threats- he knew that they couldn't hurt him- and carried out his tasks with cool efficiency.
The monster tugged at the chains, not taking its eyes off Cunningham, and tensed warily.
"What are you?" The monster asked; its voice slightly rough around the edges.
Cunningham didn't answer. He watched the monster blink its green eyes and struggle again.
"You can't escape," Cunningham said softly, almost too quiet for anyone to hear but he knew that the monsters had excellent hearing.
"What the fuck do you want with me?" The monster demanded and slumped forward as though it had tired.
The monster's dark hair fell into its face, obscuring those green eyes and Cunningham could hear it breathing harshly.
Perhaps I've secured the chains too tightly, he mused.
Cunningham could see sweat had soaked through the monster's shirt and its hair stuck to its forehead with it.
"Where's my phone?" The monster asked; its voice more quiet now.
Cunningham walked over to the work bench and pulled out the cellular phone he'd found on the monster. Its coat and boots were strewn haphazardly underneath the bench.
"You mean this?" Cunningham asked and held up the broken phone.
He had stomped on its as soon as he'd discovered it, cracking the screen and mashing the keys- some of which were missing altogether- underneath his heel against the concrete floor.
Cunningham couldn't help but smile when he saw the monster gulp and hang its head- it knew it was done for.
He tossed the broken device onto the workbench and pondered the tools hanging on the walls from nails.
"What are you doing?" The monster spoke up fearfully.
Cunningham took a roofing hammer down and examined it- it had the standard blunt nose but with two forks that came to sharp points, one being longer than the other- acting as casually as if he was inspecting the implement for an upcoming construction project.
He turned around and faced the monster, the hammer swinging causally from his hands.
Cunningham was pleased with the reaction. The monster tensed up and its eyes grew wide with fear, "No, no, please don't."
Cunningham loved that sound, he loved it when the monsters thought he'd show them mercy, but why would he? The monsters were filthy, lying, murdering creatures that needed to be exterminated, eradicated from the face of the Earth and Cunningham was the only man for the job.
They all deserve to die for what happened to Louie, Cunningham thought fiercely, and approached the monster with measured steps, prolonging the creature's torment.
The green-eyed monster was tugging uselessly at the chains binding it, pulling its legs closer to its body, the chains around its ankles grating harshly along the concrete floor.
Cunningham chuckled; the monsters always thought that shrinking like that would save them. They were wrong.
He peered down at the monster as though trying to figure out just what to do. Cunningham scratched at his chin with the sharp prongs of the hammer, taunting the monster.
The monster swallowed thickly and Cunningham watched its eyes dart around the garage, searching for a way out.
The man closed the distance between himself and the monster and raised the hammer, blunt edge downward. The monster shrunk back as much as it could, unable to even lift its hands to fend off the attack.
The scream that followed made Cunningham smile. The monsters may be a lot of things but they still bled the same as any other animal.
W
Cunningham was in a good mood when he stepped inside the house. He flexed his hands, palms outward, cracking the knuckles.
He felt as though he'd accomplished something that day. Sure, work had been boring as hell, the usual shit but he was happy knowing that he'd captured yet another monster and that meant one less beast out there to hurt innocent people… like Louis.
Cunningham frowned and slipped his work boots off; he peered down at the scuffed tan leather and saw a small spot of blood. He picked up the boot, headed into the kitchen and quickly wiped the smudge of crimson liquid off with a dishcloth.
There, that's better; Cunningham appraised the boots as he set them in the hallway.
He turned to the kitchen and sat down at the table for a moment. He was starving.
Standing and stretching, Cunningham peered around and laid eyes on the clock on the wall. It was only five forty-seven in the evening.
He made his way over to the fridge and grabbed a TV dinner from the freezer, opened the box, ripped off the plastic cover and put it into the microwave.
When the beep sounded to signal that the food had cooked, Cunningham took his dinner out and sat it on the old wooden kitchen table.
Cunningham thought about Louis as he ate. He missed his brother.
Don't worry Louie, Cunningham thought as he cut his microwave turkey and stuffing, ignoring the green beans- a vegetable that he'd hated since childhood- I'll make them pay, I'll make them all pay for what they did to you.
SPN
Sam gritted his teeth against the pain and squeezed his eyes shut. His breathing came in short gasps- he couldn't seem to draw enough air into his lungs- and his head throbbed in time with his heartbeat.
Swallowing down bile, Sam forced back the urge to puke. Even with his eyes closed and holding as still as a statue, it felt like the world was spinning around him.
Blood had trickled warm and sticky down the side of Sam's face and neck and the feeling pushed him to near-panic.
This isn't real, this isn't really happening, Sam thought frantically; hoping and praying that when he opened his eyes again he wouldn't be surrounded by darkness. He wanted to be back with Dean in whatever skeevy motel they'd picked for the night, fighting over the TV remote control and eating cheap, greasy take-out dinners.
A low cry escaped Sam's lips as he forced his eyelids apart and saw only darkness.
Nothing had changed. Dean was nowhere to be seen. This was wrong, very wrong.
"Not real, not real, not real," Sam chanted as he pressed his eyes shut tight enough so that bright lights flashed behind the lids and his breathing hitched with terror.
Remember, a tiny voice in the back of Sam's mind demanded; remember where you were before!
Slowly Sam thought back to what he had been doing, where he'd been before he had woken up in this garage.
He remembered driving a car- not the Impala- and he remembered Dean had newspapers on his lap.
Sam recalled Dean suggesting they stop and he remembered the name of the small town: Brentwood.
Sam remembered the abandoned house Dean had found, the argument about Dick Roman and that he'd walked away so that they wouldn't come to blows.
With a deep breath Sam opened his eyes but his anxiety was in no way assuaged. He may not be where he'd feared, but the alternative wasn't much better. He was being held captive by a crazy man with a penchant for torturing people with hammers.
SPN
Cunningham watched a few hours of television, sitting in his old olive green chair with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other.
There was no local news station, Brentwood was too small for that, and the closest information came from Tacoma. Cunningham remembered being riveted to the screen during the reign of terror caused by the Green River Killer, thinking that the man was the worst of the worst, one of the dregs of society- Cunningham got rid of monsters while Green River killed women… innocent women like the girl Louis had killed-
Cunningham crushed the beer can in his hand, alcohol flowing down his wrist to drip onto the floor. He blinked at the TV screen and stood to grab a tea towel to mop up the mess he'd made.
As Cunningham sopped up the spill beside his chair he thought about the monster now tied up in his garage. He twisted a fist into the towel and threw it across the room. Cunningham stomped through the living room and kitchen into the tiny front hall.
He slipped on his work boots and made his way across the lawn toward the hulking structure of the garage. He unlocked the door and turned on the light, stepping inside.
The monster blinked at him, green eyes wide in shock at the sudden brightness. Cunningham could hear the creature growl threateningly at him. He could see blood had trailed down the side of its face and neck to stain its shirt.
Cunningham peered around at the available tools, wondering which he should use. Looking down at his clenched hands he paused and looked back at the monster.
Cunningham strode over to the monster and grabbed the front of its shirt, pulling it up as he pulled a fist back. The monster closed its eyes and cried out as Cunningham's hand connected with its jaw.
He let go of the monster's shirt but continued to hit the monster. Cunningham relished the feeling of his knuckles connecting with flesh and bone.
He stopped when the monster's head fell forward, the beast clearly unconscious. Cunningham paused to catch his breath, check his bruised knuckles and decided he could use a refreshing drive to town. Maybe he'd even stop for coffee at the diner.
Turning off the light and locking the garage door, Cunningham got into his van and headed to town. He had calmed down tremendously and even turned on the radio, whistling to the song that came on.
The roads were dark and deserted. No one was out at this hour; it wouldn't even be very busy in town.
Cunningham drove slowly, he was in no rush. He stared out the window, watching the few residents of Brentwood still out this late, pace to and fro down the sidewalks.
Wait! Cunningham hit the bakes- there; across the street was another monster! It was standing with an African American man and two women, one dark-headed, the other flaxen-haired.
Squinting, Cunningham took note of the monster's appearance. It was tall, not as tall as the one he'd just caught though, and kind of scrawny looking.
Cunningham was not fooled, monsters came in all shapes and sizes but they were all very strong, very dangerous.
A smile curved Cunningham's lips. Just like all the others, there were always more where the first came from.
A blaring horn jolted Cunningham from his reverie and he put the van in drive, his gaze flicking up to watch the monster in the rearview mirror as he drove to the diner.
The tiny restaurant was quiet as usual. Cunningham was a bit disappointed to see that Susie wasn't waitressing that night and in her stead there was a pimply-faced boy he'd never seen working there before.
Cunningham picked a booth and sat down, refusing to be depressed about Susie. It was a good night, he reminded himself, he had a monster and another one was close by.
Cunningham sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He looked up when a young man entered the diner. He was a stranger, Cunningham immediately saw that, and looked a little worse for wear.
He watched the young man walk over to the counter and slide onto one of the bar stools. He placed one fisted hand under his chin and stared despondently at the menu-board.
Cunningham took in the stranger's short-cropped light brown hair, his blue jeans and boots, dark brown leather jacket. Cunningham saw that the man's hazel eyes were slightly bloodshot and he had the beginnings of stubble on his lean face as he turned around to look over his shoulder.
Must be some drifter, Cunningham thought and turned to the pimply waiter who was approaching him with a pot of coffee.
While stirring milk into his drink, Cunningham noted that the young man had ordered a slice of rhubarb pie and coffee, not the best dinner in the world but who was Cunningham to judge?
Cunningham sniffed indifferently and took a sip of his coffee. He had better things to think about than some random transient passing through town.
W
The stranger left after two pieces of pie and three cups of coffee. Cunningham stayed until the diner closed, somewhat reluctant to return home.
He knew he should be out looking for that second monster but right now Cunningham was too tired and he needed to plan, anyways.
"Don't worry Louie, I'll get it," Cunningham spoke in a low tone as he walked down to his van.
"I'll get them all!" Cunningham fished his keys from his pocket and unlocked the driver's side door.
SPN
Sam opened his eyes slowly. He groaned with pain and spat blood. He felt as though someone had beaten him round the head with a cinderblock.
It was still dark and Sam didn't know if it was night or day.
Sam guessed it didn't really matter whether it was day or night, he just wished he could get away from the maniac who was holding him captive.
Sam peered around- not that there was much to see- if only to try and feel like he was doing something.
He worked his jaw, making sure it wasn't broken- despite being sore, it seemed alright- and could feel one of his eyes already swelling shut.
He lowered his head, gritting his teeth as he tried to slip his hands through the chains.
"God damn it!" Sam cursed loudly as the metal bit into his wrist, drawing warm blood.
Breathing heavily, Sam clenched his eyes shut and told himself that Dean was coming, that his brother was looking for him and would save him like he always did.
"Who am I kidding? Dean probably has no fucking idea where I am… I don't even have any fucking idea where I am!" Sam muttered and spat more blood out of his mouth from where his teeth had cut the inside of his lip.
Sam was pretty sure that whoever had kidnapped him wasn't one of their usual beasties. If it had been, he'd know by now.
Probably isn't even a leviathan, Sam thought, or Dick Roman and I would have had a nice long conversation already.
So the guy was an everyday crazy, like the Benders, Sam reasoned.
Great, Sam thought, why is it always me?
He froze when the sound of an engine approached. Sam didn't even dare to breathe. It didn't sound like the new car though, the one they'd been forced to use in lieu of the Impala. Sam's heartbeat began to speed up with anxiety- if it wasn't Dean than it must be the guy- and once again, despite the futility of it, began trying to slip out of the chains - coming back for him.
Teeth bared in a silent snarl, Sam would be ready for whatever the man was about to dish out. He was not just going to sit still and let the asshole beat the shit out of him without putting up a fight.
Sam heard the sound of a door unlocking and was momentarily blinded when the overhead lights came on.
Blinking furiously, Sam watched as the man stomped toward him, a smile curling his lips.
The man crouched down in front of Sam and grabbed his shirt, pulling him close. Sam could smell coffee and beer on the man's breath.
The man chuckled as though at some private joke, "I'll get all your little monster buddies, you'll see."
Sam's eyes widened in shock: the man thought he was a monster!
This changes things, Sam realized even as the man continued to speak.
"You filthy demons are all gonna get what you deserve! All of you!" the man snarled and pushed Sam back, releasing him.
Sam gulped, trying to calm his still-pounding heart.
"I- I'm not a monster," he whispered, hating that his voice came out as a stammering rasp.
The man raised an eyebrow skeptically, "Like I haven't heard that one before."
"I'm not a monster… I'm a hunter," Sam managed.
If the man knew about monsters than maybe he was a hunter who'd gone off the deep end. Maybe if Sam convinced him that he was human, the man would let him go. It was worth a try anyway.
The man snorted, "I know you hunt. Hunt innocent people like my brother. Your kind killed him! And now you'll all pay for what happened to him!"
Sam sat back, shocked at the man's sudden outburst.
"Please, I have a brother too. I know how you must feel but this isn't the answer. This won't bring your brother ba-" Sam was cut short when the man backhanded him.
Sam's head snapped back with the force of the blow, blood flew from his mouth and tears pricked in his eyes.
"Don't you ever talk to me about my Louie you filthy, disgusting creature! You don't get to talk about him!" the man snapped, eyeing Sam cruelly.
"M-my name is Sam W-Winchester," Sam continued, "I'm h-human like you."
Sam saw no recognition in the man's face. If the man was a hunter, surely the name Winchester would ring a bell.
"Shut up," the man said in a quiet voice.
"Let me go, please. I never hurt your brother- I don't even know who you are!" Sam pleaded and the man hit him again.
"I SAID SHUT UP!" the man shouted and grabbed Sam by the shirt once more, breathing heavily in the boy's face.
The close proximity sent Sam's already stressed body and mind into panic and he acted unconsciously to protect himself.
Sam didn't even listen to what the man was hissing at him as he drove his forehead into the man's face.
The man staggered back with a pained cry, hands at his nose. Blood leaked from between the man's fingers and Sam felt nauseous at the sight.
"Fugh!" the man swore and kicked at Sam.
The man glared daggers at the boy before shutting off the light and locking the door behind him, leaving his victim alone.
Sam's shoulders slumped and he breathed wetly, trying not to cry.
Blood trailed down Sam's brow and into his good eye from a cut he'd received breaking the man's nose.
Too much blood, Sam thought, there's too much blood.
He closed his eyes and tried not to think.
SPN
Cunningham could not fucking believe it. That monster broke his fucking nose!
He peered into the bathroom mirror as he carefully stopped the flow of blood with tiny wads of tissue.
Cunningham's nose was bruised and there was a cut on the bridge. His eyes looked like they were beginning to blacken as well.
He clenched his hands into fists. No monster had ever hurt him before, ever!
I have to be careful with that one, Cunningham realized, it's a lot more violent than the others were.
Cunningham almost laughed- he wasn't unused to challenges and maybe this was some kind of test- he thought of the way the monster had tried to convince him of its innocence, that it was human just like him- and knew that Louis would guide him in the right direction.
His brother had helped him see through the monster's tricks, like the ones before; Cunningham knew that no matter how much they begged and bargained, they were all monsters.
W
The next morning Cunningham frowned at his reflection in the window above the sink as he put his breakfast dishes in amongst the ever-growing pile of dirty cutlery and flatware. He looked like he had gone one-on-one against Mike Tyson and lost.
Cunningham gingerly touched his crooked, broken nose and winced. The damn thing had swollen and turned a rather ugly shade of purple.
To match my eyes, Cunningham thought humourlessly, as he examined the bruises.
There was no point in crying over spilt milk, Cunningham reasoned, using an adage of his mother's.
He was already late for work and as well as a being a laughingstock he'd hate to have his boss ream him.
Besides, Cunningham should be happy- he had one monster captive and another one on the waiting list.
W
"Hey! What'd you do to your nose?" Cunningham bristled momentarily at the sound of an immature voice calling out to him.
He forced himself to smile and chuckle, "Wouldn't you believe it; slipped in the damn shower last night."
The younger man guffawed and called him a 'clumsy old man'.
Cunningham shook his head as though the man had been teasing and went about his work, repeating the story of falling in the shower to anyone who asked.
He needed to get the other monster, Cunningham knew it, and he had to act quickly before it spooked or freed the other one.
Tonight, Cunningham told himself, I'll get it tonight.
He smiled at the thought.
The monster he already had was sure to stop its irritating puling and fighting when it saw Cunningham had another one. That usually shut them up.
Cunningham knew that the monster with green eyes wouldn't last much longer but at least it would survive long enough to show the new one what was in store for it.
He worked religiously throughout the day, as though it was his first day on the job, impressing his co-workers and even his boss.
W
Sliding into the driver's seat of his van, Cunningham could hardly wait for the sun to go down so he could hunt. His breathing quickened with excitement and he gripped the steering wheel tightly in anticipation.
Turning on the radio, Cunningham hummed in appreciation when Johnny Cash came on singing 'When the Man Comes Around".
Yes, tonight was going to be a very good night.
Author's Note:
1. Thanks to book reader-lover of 3000, LeighAnnWallace, Niweeg, liliaeth, Twilightfairy, BranchSuper, Basia Orci, and Toumies for Reviewing.
2. Thanks to blackraven66, PaganButterfly, Maloanne, .pandas, Sygonia, Glistoo, Psychee, Redstarred191, Bright Swallow, Chucky1982, LittleMrsAdams, TanyaUchiha, Twilightfairy, ravenlove, BranchSuper, Mymy2014, ktjinx, Basia Orci, jonayla, ESurnaturel, Suuki-Aldrea, Kalanna Dae, DezzieWinter and Toumies for Favouriting and Alerting.