Screaming for Vengeance
Chapter Ten
It was there, in the dark, waiting for him. He could hear it, sighing softly, waiting for him. It was purring with pleasure, waiting for him. The dark shape, a mass against the dark forest, waiting for him.
Dean walked on towards it. He slid his gun silently out of the holster. I don't know if it will do any good against it, but I feel better with it in my hand. It feels nice to be able to have it in my hand again, nice to have two hands.
The pain in his shattered ankle was nearly unbearable, he could feel the cold curling up his leg, reaching up like fingers of frost. Pulling the warmth of life away. Will it come for me? Or will it wait for that to kill me? It wants something more from me. What?
It shifted, moving around, he could see the shadow shape sliding to his left, dark against dark, the fading light unable to touch it. Night was coming. The light was dying a slow death, the forest silent, unable to stop the night, unable to stop the dark shape, the shadow moving through the trees.
He could hear it, moving behind him, the soft sighing, snarling, pleased as it moved. Excited as it hunted. The battle had been joined, it was happy. It was moving again, the undergrowth betraying it as it shifted around him.
Dean kept walking down the dark trail. The night was complete, it was as if he were wrapped in a blanket, no light, no sound except the sound of its soft breath. It was waiting again, stopped, sighing softly in the trees.
This is getting old. "Well? What are you waiting for?" He said talking to the night. It barked, its hunting call, the sound rolling up the trail. It barked again. Come on, just get it over with. God, I hope Sam is ok. Please let him be ok. I wonder what it wants? I wonder when it will come? I hope Sam can keep the fire going, god I hope he's ok. Once it's done with me I think it will leave.
The pain, the worry for Sam distracted him. It was a fatal mistake.
It moved. The night shattering as it came out of the trees. Dean looked up, saw the dark moving towards him, he heard the small whistling sound as the great claws swung through the air. They touched him, almost gently, moving across him, moving him. He was down. The gun was knocked from his hand .The great weight pressed down on him, something hooked into his side, rolling him over. He looked up—into its eyes, black against the night, no light, the reflection of a million deaths, the fluttering of carrion eaters, the depths of the darkest places, endless night, the primal death, the primordial ooze.
He screamed in pain, he screamed in terror, he screamed his rage.
Out of the night, flying over the dark forest, his brother's voice touched him. "DEAN! HANG ON!" Sam? Are you ok? Sam! Damn it's good to hear your voice.
It moved him, pulling him with the claw hooked into his side. He tried to see it, tried to see more, tried to focus on something to kill, something to wound as it had injured him as it had wounded his brother. Dean reached out for something to hold onto, his hand closed on a root thrusting out of the earth. He stopped, it moved on, the claw slowly ripping away. He screamed.
Again the voice cutting through the night, carrying the sound of life with it. "DEAN!"
It turned, coming back towards Dean. He could hear it sliding up the trail, approaching him. It was sighing in the new voice, satisfied. It was coming closer, snuffling, a careful sound, coaxing, cajoling. He tried to get up, feeling around for his crutch, he'd dropped the stick as it had dragged him down the trail. It was coming closer. Sighing, snarling softly, talking to itself, laughing in the night. Dean knew it was close. He felt its touch, gentle, almost like a lover. Gentle, soft, until the claw stabbed down, still slow, so slow, torturing him with that touch. He tried to stop the scream, he couldn't. It was torn from him like the flesh it had carried away with its claws.
"DEAN! I'M COMING!"
Sam? How? Sammy? Are you ok? Sam—no, no, what do you think you're doing? NO! Stay away, let me handle this. Cause I'm doing such a great job with this. Sam! No.
The claw withdrew. It moved away from him. Moving around to the side where the he held onto the root with a death grip. It stood there sighing to itself, snarling, grunting. He sensed it reaching towards him, reaching slowly. Come on. Damn it come on, just get it over with. Kill me. It grabbed his hand with those claws tearing him away from the root.
He felt it, close, he could see nothing, blood was pouring into his eyes. Teeth closed on his wrist he was pulled up, up, up and then dropped. He slammed into the ground. Groaning, fear upper most in his mind, fear for himself, fear for his brother. He could feel it snuffling beside him, the great weight on his back and its breath blew softly through his hair.
It purred.
It knew him.
It was happy.
XXX
"Too late," Sam whispered to his brother. Sam had heard the sound slowly dying around them. He tried to get his brother to listen, Dean was focused elsewhere until he stopped, listening, hearing what Sam had, the quiet death of the forest.
Silence. It was pouring into the forest, filling it, pushing the noise away until there was nothing left. Sam was watching his brother's face, what he saw terrified him. Dean, no, you can't. Dean what are you thinking? Dean carefully shifted him onto the ground, gently putting his head onto the pack.
"Dean, no." He forced the words out, trying to stop his brother, trying to keep him there.
Its scream tore through the forest. Sam saw his brother raise his head, listening to that scream, hearing something there for his ears alone. Dean. No. No. What are you doing? I can't let you, Dean. No.
"Dean, no." He looked at his brother. "Dean, please, no."
His brother dropped down beside him. "Sam, I'm sorry. It wants me I think. If I go maybe you can get safe."
"No." No, Dean, not yet.
His brother looked at him, his eyes begging him to understand. "Sam, I have to give you a chance."
"No, stay, Dean." Please stay, please Dean. Let me help you somehow. Sam felt tears on his face. His brother gently wiped them away, his fingers cold, trembling.
Dean sighed. "Sammy, it got me last night." He pulled his pant leg up. Sam saw a wound, bloody, dark, above Dean's boot. Black tendrils were reaching up his brother's leg as if seeking his life to draw it away. God, Dean, why didn't you tell me? What can I do? "I think I'm dead anyway. Let me at least save you. Please, Sam."
No, Dean, You don't get to throw away your life like this. Let me help, let me save you, please Dean, just give me a minute to help, please. "Dean, no."
"Yes, Sam." Dean said softly, he was crying, Sam saw the tears making tracks through the dirt on his brother's face. He's crying. "Goodbye little brother." Dean pushed himself up and started to walk away, away from him, away from the safety of the fire. He didn't look back, he didn't pause, just moved forward, shuffling, limping heavily on the ankle.
No, no, Dean! Stop, come back! "DEAN!" The cry ripped from him, he heard the sound of his voice, he felt the pain as the scream tore out of his throat. He tasted blood.
His brother kept going.
"Dean, no." He whispered onto the night, tasting the blood, feeling it warm in his mouth. He tried to force his body to move, tried to follow his brother. He was still trapped in the dead husk. No. No. I have to get to him, I have to stop him, this is suicide. Dean, please.
He struggled against his body, trying to make it move, trying to pull himself from the icy cold, from the all-pervading pain. I have to stop him, I have to stop him. I have to get to him. I have to help him. Dean! The light was beginning to fade, the first touches of night moving into the forest. Darkness was coming, silently, nothing to herald its arrival except the silence.
Then Sam heard his brother's voice. A wordless, mindless scream filled with terror, with agony, with a shrieking rage that flowed over the silent forest.
DEAN! He fought against his body, he fought to get up, he fought to get to his brother. He fought to find it, to find what caused that scream and to end it.
It dies, no matter what, it dies.
His body still wouldn't respond. Dean, no. Sam waited, listening. There was nothing else. Silence reigned. Night had come, the forest dark, nothing moving, only the inky night, without stars, without a moon, without sound.
He heard it bark, in the distance, the sound cutting through him, through the night. And again it barked. Its voice sharp, challenging. And then…Dean? No! Dean! His brother screamed. All Sam could hear in that sound was pain, terror, death.
"DEAN! HANG ON!" He forced the sound out, felt it tearing at his throat. He could taste blood, felt it on his face. Dean screamed again and Sam felt the rage beginning in him, hot, forcing the cold away. His heart was pounding, the pain in his body enormous, filling him and still the rage came, flowing into him, boiling away the cold, taking the numbness, driving all else before it. Pain pulsing as hot as the rage.
His brother screamed again. "DEAN!" His hands were shaking, he could feel them, he could feel the slash on his chest, the wounds in his neck, the wounds in his wrists its teeth had left.
Rage, hot, a living thing, forcing his body to awareness, forcing it into movement. It was costing him, it would exact a terrible price, but it didn't matter.
"DEAN! I'M COMING!"
And he forced his body up. Forced it to move, demanded that it go forward, each step agony, each move forward taking a little more and still he went on. He grabbed a flaming branch from the fire, felt the warmth in the bright light, it felt cool in the face of the rage. One step and another, forcing his body on.
I'm coming, Dean. Hang on. Just hang on.
XXX
It had moved away again, playing its game with him. Dean pushed himself over so he was looking up, up through the darkness. There was a small glow in the clouds, the moon, full, bright above the cover, shining through with a tiny light. It was sighing softly, watching him as he fought to get up. He crawled until he ran into a tree and then dragged himself up, using the tree as a prop.
Good, now I'm up I can take this thing down. I swear I heard Sam's voice, but how? Sam, please be ok. Take care of yourself, get out of here when you can.
It was waiting, listening, watching him. He knew it was there, he sensed it as it watched. It was enjoying this game. It was happy, pleased with itself, pleased with its prey. It was sighing softly, the snarling breath flowing around Dean like a cold wind. Curling upwards, touching his face, his mind.
Memory came like a nightmare, brief, just a fleeting moment among so many.
"Dad?" He turned his father over, gently, praying to anyone who was listening to let his father be alive. "Dad?" The wounds were spectacular, gruesome, something had torn his father apart. He was bleeding, he was dying.
Dean could hear something at the very edge of the cave, moving there softly in the darkness, swaying slightly as if in a wind. It was there from the depths it had come from. It was sighing, watching him. He wasn't sure how he knew, but it was watching him. It had left his father there for Dean to find. Dean thought he could see something, a shadow shape against the unending night of the earth.
His father groaned, pain, fear in that sound. "Dad? It's ok, I've got you, I'm going to get you out of here." He stood pulling his father with him, the warm blood running down his body. The shadow shape had followed, silently sliding through the trees, watching him, gauging him. He felt it there, heard it sighing softly, as it watched him trying to save his father.
It finally turned away, moving back into the forest.
It was there, now, watching him, finishing the game begun so long ago. Dean could hear it snarling softly, sighing, purring, pleased. It knew he recognized it. It was happy, it wanted him to know it before he died. The dark night it had come from, the ages that it had walked there among the silence, the lives it had owned, the lives it had ended. The myriad games, the many playthings it had taken. Thousands. It had walked among the fields of blood and had feasted. It brought darkness, it knew pain, it created terror. Ancient, always, untouched.
Dean stood, listening, watching waiting for it to move again, waiting for the last battle to begin. It would come, he knew, it wasn't ready to kill, it wanted to bleed him, know him, take his soul before it took his life. Take hope before it led him into the dark. It would make him beg for the end, beg for the release before it was done. It was ready. It was waiting, softly sighing, letting Dean understand what he faced, understand that it was a death that all else fled, a death that even the terrors of the earth ran from.
It sighed, sniffing, scenting the air, waiting. Sighing, watching, snarling. It would play, but this was the final game. The end, reaching out for him like the cold tendrils in his leg, like the claws tearing into flesh.
A sound shattered the silence, something was moving through the trees. Dean saw light, flame, coming down the hill, down the trail. Coming towards him, coming toward it as it waited there, scenting Dean, waiting to begin the final play.
"Dean!" His brother screamed, the sound harsh, grating. Pained.
"Sam! No! Run!" Dean yelled. No, Sam, no.
It had turned, watching his brother approaching, watching the small bobbing light coming through the darkness of the forest. It was moving, away from Dean, moving towards Sam. Dean saw the shadow move in front of Sam, blocking the light as if it had absorbed it, taking it the way it would take Sam's life.
"SAM!" Dean tried to run, tried to get to his brother, his ankle wouldn't support him. He fell onto the trail his hands desperately seeking something, anything to help him up. He found the crutch, shoving himself upwards.
Sam screamed.
Dean propelled himself forward, slow. Too slow, too slow. Sam, I'm sorry. What are you doing? I'll kill you myself! It was moving away, away from Sam, back into the night. Dean forced himself on to where the tiny flame was burning. He could see Sam, face down, on the muddy trail.
It was purring, sighing from the darkness, the only sound in the silent forest. It was laughing, playing its game.
"Sam?" Dean knelt down beside his brother and turned him over. Blood dark on his face. His eyes were closed. No, Sam. No. Not like this. "Sammy?" He put his hand down on Sam's chest. His brother's heart was pounding, the effort of getting there driving his heart to race, fast, nearly killing in its pace. "Sam, hey, come on." He's alive. He's alive. He's alive.
He saw Sam's eyes slowly open. "Dean?" He whispered, his voice rough.
"Sam," he blinked back tears. They would do no good now, not now. "What the hell, Sammy?"
"Sorry, Dean." He smiled, struggling to sit up.
Dean pulled him up against him, his arms supporting his brother, his brother's arms supporting him. "Sam, you should have…Sam…"
"No, Dean," his brother's voice was soft, gentle, firm, unmovable. "Both of us, Dean, or not at all."
"Sam…"
"No, Dean, so just shut up about it."
"It wants me, Sam. Not you."
"Dean? No. Sorry. No."
"Sam…" He looked at his brother, saw the resolve in Sam's eyes. It terrified him.
"Dean, we kill it or we go down together."
"I'm not sure it wants to play that way."
"Then we change the rules."
Dean smiled. Sam I think you've lost your mind. "Can you get up?" Sam nodded pushing himself up, Dean could see the pain the movement caused. Sam held his hand out and pulled Dean up, putting an arm around his waist to support the shattered ankle.
And it came.
Out of the trees where it had been waiting.
It came, tearing him from his brother, pulling him into the darkness, into the night where its silence reigned.
It dropped him. He could still see the faint flicker of the light from the branch Sam had been carrying.
It stood in front of him, sighing. Snarling. The soft purr filling it, rumbling outwards, making the ground tremble. It moved away, behind him, scenting the air, seeking Sam there in the dark night. It turned back. One of those claws pressed into him, pressing him down, holding him down, and it screamed. It screamed its pleasure, it screamed, calling death to that dark forest.
Dean tried to force himself up. No, not ending like this, no. It withdrew back into the night, barking challenging him. Dean pushed himself up. Where's Sam? I know he's out there. Where? It was purring, watching him struggling to move.
It came again. It hit him with the claws, he felt the teeth. He screamed in his rage, in his pain. Challenging it, calling it to battle, letting it know the war was joined, that he was ready. It backed off. That's what it was waiting for.
And he knew, the realization curling through him, upwards ever upwards like sparks flying to meet the stars. It had tried to kill his father, to get to him, to learn him. It had tried to kill Sam. It thought it had killed Sam. To torture him, to know him a little better before it killed him, before it came to take his life as surely as it took the sound from the forest. Rage filled him, finally, completely, driving the pain from his battered body, driving all thought from his mind. Only one thing was left. Vengeance. Death. Its death. Maybe his, but it didn't matter.
The battle has begun.
Time to find out who I am.
To Be Continued