They'd pulled up and Cas left Dean with numerous instructions and an ointment, hoping it would help the pain in case they needed to run. With that, he ran inside. The message had said return to sector 5, probably calling all off-duty soldiers. He knew that he was usually pretty fast so he hadn't expected to see any of the others (the off-duty guys) here yet, which meant all the action was going on somewhere on the base. He pushed the doors open and looked around; he heard no sounds aside from his own breathing and the heartbeat in his ears.
He cautiously reached around for the handgun that was usually holstered on his hip, though this time he didn't find it. He'd seen it in the truck earlier, which was probably where he'd left it. "Damn it..." he cursed quietly, looking for some kind of weapon now, not wanting to wander around an eerily quiet base he expected to be infested with mutants without a way to defend himself. He found his black-handled switchblade and mentally cursed himself for not bringing in all his shit. He'd left it in the truck, at least Dean could make use of it if necessary.
Cas crept along the hallway, looking into each room as he passed it by, not seeing anyone. He frowned as he continually found the same problem everywhere he went, no one was around. 'What the hell?' He thought angrily, 'They call me here with barely any information and now no one's around to explain what happened?' He quieted his steps and started to check each room like an enemy would leap out of it, obviously it had been a bad enough emergency that something went down in the short amount of time it took him to get there.
With the new mindset, Cas looked at the state of each room he passed by and realized they all looked like they'd been left in a big hurry. He shook his head, whatever had happened, it was bad. He gripped the handle of his blade as he continued down the hall. He wasn't sure where he should be heading, at this point he'd be happy to see at least one familiar face.
As he finished his thought he spotted someone at the end of the hall. "Hey!" he whispered harshly, hoping he'd catch the other man's attention. From where he could see the back of the other man as he stared at the wall in the center of the three-way intersection. Cas inspected the way he was standing and figured that, judging by the posture, he was standing at attention. He breathed a sigh of relief; there would probably be others down that way too. He trotted down the hallway and reached the man's side, "You have no idea how glad I am to-"
Cas took several steps back after he'd looked up to see the man's face, this wasn't one of their soldiers. The man standing there had been in the experiments, searching for a cure of some kind. Obviously the emergency on the base was a breakout, and apparently it had been too much for the soldiers on base to handle. Cas knew this because the mutation standing before him wasn't just wearing a soldier's uniform to trick him, the monstrosity was actually wearing the soldier.
Cas watched the thing turn in his direction, skin peeled away to make room for its unusually large eyes. Its breathing came in quick, short and shallow inhales followed by an almost non-existent exhale. It stared at him briefly, and in those almost slo-mo moments, Cas could actually see different waves coming off the thing's body. He knew it was already too late to cover his mouth, plus that would reduce mobility and in the current situation he really wanted to be able to move. Also, he really wished he'd had a gun.
In seconds the thing was lunging at him, part of him wished it wasn't wearing a comrades skin, another part was glad that he couldn't see its real features. He dodged to the side and watched its awkward movements as it missed him and stumbled along the floor. The thing's hands were hideous, too long to fit in any normal human's skin sack, so they'd torn through and Cas could see the pale pigments of its skin. It was discoloured at best, though he wasn't interested in figuring out the creature's colour while it was trying to rip his head off.
Not wanting to wait for it to attack again, Cas stomped down on the thing's leg only to find that it had several more joins than a human, enabling it to bend its legs in almost any direction. He would have to make this quick. He used his other hefty boot to crush its ribcage, squatting down and slicing through the thing's throat. Blood spewed out, splattering over his jacket and onto the side of his face. He watched it writhe beneath him, catching a glimpse of a vibration moving up from its stomach. Cas hopped off of it and took several steps back, if there was anything he'd learned from movies it was that you never stand there like an idiot if you have a chance to back off. You never know what's gonna happen with a strange, unknown creature.
He felt something telling him to back a lot further away from this one and, never being to ignore his gut feelings, he obeyed. It was then that he saw a blast of toxic fumes spew out of its open throat and hit the ceiling, leaving an ugly mark that indicated the toxins had eaten part of it away, though it quickly dissipated into the air. Cas covered his mouth and nose, quickly getting out of there. He figured that if something was going to happen, the main officer of sector 5 would probably have something in his complex. Cas made a beeline for it, not wanting to run into another one of those things.
Sam heard his phone ringing again, this time he was resting up after all the studying he'd done. No matter how much you try, there's always a saturation point for how much you can cram into your skull before you forget things. He'd hooked his phone up to the answering machine, figuring he'd let that get it. He heard a click and his own voice saying 'Hey it's Sam, I'm not available right now so leave your name and a brief message and I'll get back to you." BEEP. He was about to go back to sleep, when he heard Dean's frantic voice start rambling off. He sat upright in his bed and looked over at the other room where the sound was coming from. He threw the covers off and headed for the phone.
He didn't want to interrupt what his brother was saying, it sounded like it was something Dean needed to get out. Sam felt painful thump in his chest as he listened to Dean talk about his 'last meal'. Of course it'd be cheeseburgers, it was Dean's favourite. Sam figured he'd even ordered apple pie too, which only made the pain hurt more. He hadn't checked on his brother in years, after their dad died he left early and didn't stay to help or console Dean. He remembered that day, everything thought he was heartless and didn't give a shit about his dad, though he was more torn up than he would ever admit. He and his dad never saw eye to eye, they always fought over and about everything. He wanted to have the same relationship with his dad that he thought every kid did, throw a baseball, get help with homework, being scolded for doing stupid things but then having a good laugh about it... Maybe that was only in the movies.
Regardless, though, Sam had wanted to know his father better, but the man had died before he got the chance. It tore him up, he couldn't stand to be at the viewing where he could see the discoloured, cold body of a once proud and strong man. He'd never get the chance to apologize for being such a stuck up brat, he'd never get to know what his dad's dreams were, what he wanted for his sons, what he wanted to be. By the time they had reached the burial Sam just couldn't take it anymore, he had to get out of there before he lost his mind. He didn't want anyone to worry about him, so he came up with some bullshit about having something to do and left early. He'd never actually left; he wasn't in any shape to be driving around. He stayed in an old motel their dad used to take them to, always getting the same room. He'd stayed there for a few days before finally managing to go home.
Dean always had a better relationship with the man, got more praise than Sam, but that was only because he never stood up for himself. And by the sounds of it, not standing up for himself was the cause of his shitty situation. Sam picked his phone up and turned it on after hearing what kind of predicament Dean was in, "Hey, Dean I was in bed, sorry I didn't pick up." He quickly rattled that off so his brother wouldn't think he was ignoring the phone call, though knowing Dean's paranoia he probably would anyway. "First I want to say that everyone makes bad choices, Dean, you aren't alone in that so please don't go off the deep end with it. Everyone gets hurt but it gets better, pain is one of the harshest teachers but it works." He wanted to make his brother get off the stupid suicide-train; whatever had happened to him couldn't possibly be that bad. All he had to do was leave, but Dean always had a problem with that, something Sam hated about him. He was too soft and stubborn to see when someone would hurt him, he never left or did what was necessary to take care of himself. It drove Sam up the wall half the time; he'd gotten to the point where he couldn't be around Dean because of it. He couldn't take constantly having to make sure Dean backed off when necessary or worrying that his brother was going to do something stupid. He just had to leave it behind and try to do something for himself.
Though listening to Dean now, Sam realized that had all been a mistake. Leaving Dean didn't help the situation at all; Sam couldn't help but feel partially responsible for it. "Dean, I'm sorry." He whispered, Dean was going on about how he missed him and needed him, making Sam see even more than he never should have left.
He remembered the feeling he'd had at John's funeral, the thought he'd never see him again, never hear his voice, never get to ask him questions or answer any, never hear him laugh... Dean was in a spot where the same thing was about to happen. Sam may never get to talk to Dean, or apologize to him. "Dean!" He shouted as he heard the phone hang up, he'd been too quiet too long. "Dean, no..." He hung the phone up and stared down at it. Emotions and thoughts swirled around his head like a tornado until he made a decision; he was going out there to see his brother.
Cas stood in the office belonging to the head of this operation, staring at the mess left behind. He leaned over and looked at the computer screen, scanning anything that may have something to do with what was happening. What he saw only further proved his suspicions. He sighed heavily and shook his head. What was he supposed to do? Calling back up may only make the situation worse... Hazmat suits were necessary; probably getting a hold of people who took care of quarantines would be the best course of action.
Upon entering the sector 5 officer's complex, Castiel knew something wasn't right. With all those cars parked outside there should be at least a dozen of his fellow men running through these corridors, but Castiel couldn't even hear a sound. When he found the officer's office, no one was there. The computer screen was still glowing bright, indicating that whoever had last used it never logged off. They must have left in a hurry, or they were taken out. The open files on the computer were about the project at hand.
The experiments being performed were in the efforts of developing a new medicine. There were extensive dossiers about the test subjects as well as the side effect, toxin-infected discards. Some of them had names, others simply had numbers. The general mutation of the treatment cause massive cell death in the frontal cerebral cortex, shutting down executive planning and reasoning regions in the brain. The inner cerebellum area, involved in livelihood and general function remained intact, but the general outcome was madness.
The alert had been sent out several minutes before the CB operator put it through to the off duty soldiers, which was definitely an oddity. The alert was for an uncontrolled outbreak that required immediate military intervention. The number of men left on the base should've been enough to contain a small outbreak, one would assume. But still, there was no one around.
There was a small creak as the office door was nudged open slightly. Dean poked his head in the room to take a look around. He quickly pulled back when he saw his first living being in the facility. Positive he'd been seen; he realized that he recognized that face. It was Castiel.
He froze when he heard the door creak behind him, his instincts kicked in and he spun around, flinging the door open. In one quick movement he was on top of the intruder, his knife above him ready to make another quick kill. Then he saw those big hazel eyes, frightened, staring at him. "Dean?" he asked, relaxing and taking all pressure off him, "What are you doing here! I told you to stay in the truck?" He closed the switchblade and put it back in its holding place. "Come on," he gently picked Dean up and quickly walked outside, "Other off-duty soldiers will be arriving soon, we need to wait for them before doing anything."
He thought about the monster he'd killed just moments before and shook his head, "New rule, don't leave my sight, okay?" He put Dean down on his feet as they reached the truck. He opened the door and grabbed the commonly issued rifle, feeling much better with one of those in his hands. "So," he looked at the tube of ointment on the seat, "Did it work?" Making small talk might calm Dean down, at least until others arrived.