Second Chances
A.N. My, my, my…as I'm uploading this chapter, I realize that this story is coming to a close. *sniff sniff* I'm thinking it's going to be wrapped up in the next chapter or two, and it almost breaks my heart to say so. But, let's not dwell on the ending--let's just enjoy the new update! As always, let me know what you guys think.
The old mill on the corner of Clarkson and Spherion looked like it could have been the backdrop from a Wes Craven movie. The dilapidated building was perched in the far corner of the abandoned lot, to "No Trespassing" sign dangling from one nail on the chain link fence surrounding it. Every window and door had been boarded up, vulgar teenage graffiti marring the time-worn boards. No light peeked through cracks, giving insight to whether anyone was inside.
Dean slammed the trunk to the Impala shut, handing a worn shotgun into the outstretched hands of his brother, and turned at the sound of closing car doors behind him. Haley and Peyton were pulling two large duffel bags from the backseat of Brooke's Ford Explorer, and he couldn't help but feel a slight tinge of pride and relief that she had kept her "demon hunting kit" hidden in her car after all these years.
Nathan walked to his side and he nodded in greeting, reaching to the ground and handing him a shotgun. "You sure you can handle this, Nate?"
Nathan smirked, and in one quick movement cocked the shot gun and tipped in over his shoulder. "Give me some credit, Winchester," he said. "I might be rusty, but I think I can still handle it." He glanced at the mill, his face a neutral mask. "We're talking about my family here. So it wouldn't matter if I could or I couldn't. I'd still give it my best shot."
Dean nodded and looked over as the girls made it to their side.
"Jesus, can't they ever hide out at the Hyatt or something?" Haley asked, dropping the duffel to the ground and swiping at bang from out of her eyes.
"I think that would cancel out the whole evil thing, Hales," Peyton said, shifting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. She sighed, glancing at Dean but conveniently avoiding direct eye contact. "So, what's the plan?"
"The element of surprise," Bobby answered, checking the ammunition in his gun and glancing at the mill. "He's going to be expecting the three of us to come barging in. The three of you are what we're counting on."
Sam sat the shotgun on the trunk of the car. "The floor plans to the mill showed three floors. With it being abandoned for awhile now, any of the them could be where he's holed up."
"We'll each take a floor," Dean said, shifting the gun in his hands. "None of you are to go off on your own, got it? You stick with us. Hales, go with Bobby. Peyton--"
"I'll go with you," the blonde interrupted. All five sets of eyes turned to look at her and she shrugged. "Look, you might be a jackass, but you love Brooke just as much as I do. Which means you'll fight just as hard as I will to get to her. Where you go, I go." She rolled her eyes. "Besides, we've worked pretty well together before. Don't read too much into it."
Dean bit the inside of his lip to keep from saying the biting response on the tip of his tongue and nodded. "Fine, whatever. Just stay close and pay attention." She rolled her eyes again and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Nathan, you're with Sam. We get in, we get them, we get out. Okay?"
"What about the demon?" Haley asked, hesitantly taking the gun Bobby handed to her and testing its weight in her hands.
The image of sweet, motherly Haley James Scott standing on a side street in the middle of the night, a gun in her hands, her face a mixture of terror, rage, and determination, was one that would haunt Dean until the day he died.
He hated that he had brought this into their lives.
"Leave the dirt bag to us. Don't try going after him on your own."
Haley's brown eyes met his, and she nodded, her lips setting themselves into a determined thin line, her grasp tightening on the gun as she dropped her arms to her side. "Okay."
"Alright, you've got to be on your guard when we go in there. Keep every sense open and alert. Trust your instincts. You guys have been to hell in back in your lives, and I know that you've hunted before. But you CANNOT underestimate this demon. He's powerful and he's smart. And he's not going to give Brooke and those kids up without a fight. You stay alert, you stay alive. Understood?"
They all nodded at Bobby's lecture, and Dean watched as all three of them squared their shoulders, ready to face whatever awaited them behind those mill doors. He exchanged glances with his brother and with Bobby, and he nodded, clenching his jaw as he looked towards the mill.
"Alright…let's go."
The dust covered floorboards creaked with every step Haley took, and her eyes darted to every darkened corner in fear that the noise would bring out the beast lurking in the shadows. Her grip tightened on the handle of her gun, her knuckles stark white against its silvery tone.
She could feel her heart beating against her ribcage erratically. She was terrified, she'd admit it. But she was also determined: her son was here somewhere. Scared. Tired. But not alone.
That small fact was what kept her from having a complete breakdown.
"Haley."
She jumped, spinning on her heel and raising her gun, only to have it blocked by Bobby's meaty hand. She stared up into his grizzled face and sighed, bringing a hand up to her forehead. "Sorry," she whispered, lowering her weapon.
"You've got calm down, kiddo," Bobby said quietly, leaning down close to her so she could easily hear. "If you're skittish, you tend to make mistakes. And you CANNOT. Make. Mistakes." He saw the tears welling in her eyes and he reached out, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I know you're scared, Haley. But you need to take a second and calm down. Take a deep breath. I know it's been awhile, but this isn't your first hunt. You and Peyton followed Dean down to Belwood once, remember?"
Haley smirked slightly, nodding. The time Bobby was referring to had been almost a month after Dean and Brooke had moved in together. She and Peyton had still been in the dark when it came to Dean and his "profession," and had raised some eyebrows when Brooke announced he was leaving on a hunting trip with his father for the third time that month. Brooke had been nonchalant about the whole ordeal and, given her goo-goo eyes and love-struck manner when it came to the guy, they'd automatically thought affair and set out to expose him. Needless to say, they'd been way off base and stumbled onto a haunting that could have easily gone very, very wrong.
"Bobby, I was scared stiff," she said, shrugging.
"Yeah, at first," he said, nodding. "But then you got over your shock, saw the danger in the situation, and you stepped up. You followed Dean's lead and you survived. And kicked some demonic ass, according to Dean." He smiled when she smiled. "You followed your instincts. You pushed past your fear, and you got the job done. Now you need to do that now. Think about Jamie, Haley. You can do this."
Haley sighed, closing her eyes and taking several deep breathes, before looking up at him, nodding. "I can do it," she whispered softly, tightening her grip on her gun. "Thanks, Bobby."
Bobby smiled, patting her shoulder. "My pleasure, kid. Now come on. We're barely halfway through our floor."
He led the way further into the room, and Haley followed, glancing around. "Where do you think he is?"
"I don't know," he answered, his fingers resting on the trigger of his gun. "But he knows we're here."
"There has to be an easier way to do this," Nathan whispered, pointing his gun around the corner as he rounded it.
"Yeah? Like what?" Sam asked, his back pressed against the wall as he held his shotgun next to him.
Nathan sighed, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around the box filled room. "I don't know, man," he said. "A summoning spell, and tracking voo-doo something. I mean, it's got to be easier and faster than searching every damn inch of this place."
Sam looked over at him, seeing his fear and frustration, and he couldn't help the sympathy that laced his voice as he spoke. "Which is why we split up, Nathan. Look, you've got to understand that we're tying to keep Jamie and Brooke as safe as possible in this situation. If we tried to summon the demon or it got the slightest whiff that we were tracking it…it wouldn't be good. Okay? We have to play this safe."
"It knows we're here already, Sam," Nathan argued, pointing his gun into a dark corner before dropping it to his side again. "Are you even sure there's a 'safe' to be played? Bobby said it himself. The demon knows you're here. How do we know for sure that it doesn't know WE'RE here too? How do we know it didn't just disappear with the kids and Brooke?"
"We don't," Sam said, turning to face him with a slight glare. "We don't know. But that's a risk you have to take. I know you're scared for your son, and I know that you're furious that this whole thing is even happening. But right now, you need to focus that fear and anger on searching this place. Because until we know for sure, we have to assume that they are still here. Okay, there's no way the demon had enough time to relocate 8 children, plus one seriously pissed of fashion designer. So if they're here…we'll find them. So just…keep a clear head, and keep your eyes open." Nathan nodded, shouldering his shot gun again. "Okay. It looks like there's some empty workshops back here. You take the one on the left, I go right?"
Nathan frowned at him. "Dean said not to split up."
Sam smirked. "Clearly, you can handle your own. And, it's like you said. There's a hell of a lot of room to search."
Nathan nodded again, smiling slightly, and edged his way towards the left workshop, gun at the ready.
He would find his son. And he'd make sure that demon paid.
Peyton edged her way deeper into the basement of the mill, her shotgun tight in her grasp. She guessed she should have been a little freaked out about how easy it was to fall back into this routine--watching every movement from the corner of her eyes, listening for the slightest sound in the corners. She'd spent half of her senior year that way.
Even the fact that it was a demon that was her adversary now didn't freak her out much at all.
Her eyes caught sight of Dean's figure in the darkness, creeping slowly ahead of her, his steps silent against the cement floor. She could feel her moral conscience tapping at her brain, just like it always did when she let her anger speak for itself before she though it through. She stared at his leather jacketed back, his shoulders stiff and his head tilted for any signs of movement, and she closed her eyes as she cursed inwardly. "You got something wrong, you know."
Dean stopped his steps at the sound of her quiet voice and he glanced over his shoulder, seeing her blue eyes trained on his intently.
"Earlier. You said how I thought you never took good enough care of Brooke. You were wrong."
He frowned at her, taken aback by where this conversation was heading, because he'd always figured it'd be a cold day in hell when Peyton Sawyer apologized to him. "Peyton--"
"Look, this is really, really painful for me, Dean," she said, shifting her grip on her shotgun as she looked at him. "But you and I both know that this whole situation could turn out really bad, and while I'd be seriously pissed if you got me killed before I could finally marry Lucas, I'd also hate myself if I didn't clear the air with you."
Dean nodded hesitantly, turning more towards her even as he kept a weathered eye on their surroundings.
Peyton sighed, nodding. "You did take good care of her. Always. I mean, you had your jack ass moments when it came to her, but, then again, my record with Brooke isn't exactly spotless either. You always put her first. You always made sure she was okay--that she was warm enough or felt safe enough. You always managed to stop her tears before she got too hysterical." She smiled. "You know, when her sobs started to make her sound like a donkey and she couldn't form a coherent sentence?" His face broke into a smirk, and she shook her head. "You're not good enough for her. You're egotistical, and lazy, and at times you're dumber than a sack of hair."
"You know, Sawyer, if this is your idea of an apology, you're sure doing a bang up job of making me feel like crap."
"Look, what I'm trying to say is that even though you're a stubborn jackass and I despise you from the bottom of my heart…I've never doubted that you love Brooke. Or that you wouldn't do anything in your power to take care of her and keep her safe. You kind of proved that four years ago. And I'm sorry that I was a bitch earlier--"
"Just earlier?" Dean intercepted, raising an eyebrow at her.
She narrowed her eyes in annoyance, gritting her teeth. "My apology only reaches as far as an hour ago, Winchester. You're lucky you're getting that. The point is that I'm bothering to apologize at all, so I'd take what you can get and move on with it. I'm sorry that I let you believe I thought you didn't care about Brooke. Like I said earlier, you care about her just as much as I do. Maybe more, who knows. But it's the one aspect of you that I've never been able to hate. Okay?"
Dean could only look at the blonde before him for a long moment, unable to grasp at anything to say. He guessed he should have been relieved that the best friend of the girl he loved was willing to basically flog herself to ease the tension between them. He knew apologizing wasn't one of Peyton Sawyer's favorite things to do. But knowing the truth, that she'd always known he'd left only to protect Brooke, somehow made things better.
He nodded, gripping the shotgun in his hand tighter. "I still hate you, though," he added quietly, turning and making his way deeper through the basement.
"Oh, hell, you'd better believe it, Rocky," he heard her second behind him, and he couldn't help the slight smile that spread across his face.
Brooke had herded all the children into the farthest corner of the room, giving them strict instructions not to move until she said so. As she made her way up the stairs to the barricaded door, she glanced behind her, seeing their frightened gazes fixated on her, and she took a deep breath to calm the dread that was creeping up her chest. She grasped the steel doorknob with both hands, gritting her teeth as she turned it with all the strength she had. It rattled and squeaked, but wouldn't budge. She sighed, leaning her forehead against the door, tears of anger and fear welling in her eyes.
How were they going to get out of this?
The sound of rustling behind the door made her eyes snap open, and she pressed her ear against the wood, trying to decipher anything beyond it. She could hear quiet whispers, one deeper than the other, and her heart nearly leapt in her throat when she made out Peyton's voice. "Peyton?" she called out softly, listening as she voices quieted suddenly. "Peyton?"
The sound of footsteps hurried to the door, and she felt the door knob twist from the other side.
"Brooke?"
She bit back the sob that welled in her throat, and nearly threw herself against the door. "Dean?"
The sound of something heavy hitting the floor reached her ears, and she heard more shuffling before Dean's voice was heard again. "Step back, Brooke," he said, and she quickly turned and nearly jumped down the last few stairs as something heavy hit the oak door behind her. She turned back as the door splintered with another hit, and jumped when, on the third, it flew open, hitting the back wall with a bang, the doorknob twisted and mangled on the floor. Dean shoved his way through, his arm pushing the door as wide open as it would go, and the look of relief on his face when he spotted her brought a smile to her face.
She raced up the steps, meeting him halfway, and threw her arms around him as he grabbed her up in his. He crushed his lips onto hers, a kiss that was possessive and relieved at the same time, and he pushed her hair back from her face, staring into her eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion that he tried desperately not to show.
She nodded, trying to fight back the tears that she knew were waiting to be shed.
"God, Brooke, you scared me to death," he said, crushing her to him again.
She gripped the back of his jacket tightly, her head craning over his shoulder at a slight movement behind him, and she sighed when she caught sight of her best friend.
"Peyton," she said, pulling away from Dean and being enveloped immediately by the blonde who came up next to them.
Peyton clenched her eyes shut as she hugged her friend, a relieved smile gracing her face. "I swear to God, Brooke Davis, you're going to be the death of me," she joked, smiling even wider when her friend laughed with her.
"Don't I know it," she replied, pulling away from her and turning around.
"Uncle Dean!" Jamie yelled, racing across the room and throwing himself into the hunter's outstretched arms. "You saved us, I knew you would!"
Dean clutched the boy close to him, holding on to him for dear life as he chuckled. "God, I'm glad to see you, kid," he said softly, ruffling his hair as he pulled back.
Jamie grinned at him, complete faith and adoration in his tiny face. "I told them you'd come."
Dean looked over the boy's head, at the scared, small faces of the few children huddled together in the corner, and he straightened to his full height. "You guys okay?" he asked softly, watching as only a few of them responded with little nods while the rest merely continued to stare at him. "Alright, come on, we've got to get you out of here."
He took a step towards them, reaching out a hand slowly, and met the frightened boy's gaze. "I'm not going to hurt you, kid," he said softly, reaching closer to him. He nodded when the boy grasped his hand tightly, pulling himself to his feet, and by doing so, leading the others to do the same. "Peyton, get them out of here," he said, leading them over to the blonde who nodded, ushering them up the stairs quietly one by one.
"Dean, the demon," Brooke said, grasping his hand tightly in hers. "It knows you're here. He disappeared, I don't know where to."
Dean nodded, reaching up to cradle her face in his hands. "It's okay," he said, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "Let's just get the kids out of here, and then we'll worry about--"
Brooke gasped when an unseen force threw Dean across the room, crying out when she saw him crash against the stone wall. She whirled around, and gritted her teeth when she caught sight of the demon three feet away from her, his hand lifted and a smirk on his face. His coal black eyes narrowed at her before turning towards the stairs.
"Damn it," Peyton cursed under her breath. "Run, run, go!" She all but shoved the children as they raced past her on the stairs, and she cried out when she felt a force shove her away and she went sprawling down the stairs, her gun flying from her grasp. The terrified screams of the children rang in her ears, and she saw them cowering in fear on the stairs. She fought against the blackness that started to cloud her vision and pulled herself up to her elbows, reaching her hand out for gun that laid just out of reach. She screamed when a booted heel crashed down onto her arm, and she twisted on the ground to stare up at the soulless monster above her.
"Don't you know that children shouldn't play with guns?" he leered at her, leaning down as he increased the pressure on her arm.
Peyton cried out again, struggling to free herself from under his weight, and bent her leg up, driving her foot into his chest with all the force she could muster. She heard him cry in and fall back, and she crawled as fast as she could towards her gun, ignoring the pain that scorched up to her shoulder. Her fingers grazed the butt of the gun before it flew another foot away from her, and a strong hand gripped her ankle and pulled her back. She turned onto her back, glaring into the black orbs that were housed in an emotionless face. She braced herself for the blow she was sure to come, and blinked when he suddenly fell to his knees.
Brooke stood behind him, a large piece of the wood clutched in her hands. "Peyton, go!" she shouted, swinging the splintered wood at the demon's head as he tried to rise to his feet. "GO!"
Peyton pushed herself to her feet and raced across the room and up the stairs, her hand reassuringly touching each of their heads as she made her way to the door. "It's okay," she said, ushering them through the shattered door. She heard Brooke's shout from behind her, and she turned in time to see her friend fly into a wall behind her and the demon turn towards her. With a flick of his wrist, she flew through the doorway, narrowly missing one of the boys who ran screaming past her, and slammed into the floor. Her head hit the concrete floor with a thud, and she was helpless against the darkness that overtook her then.
Brooke groaned as she pulled herself to her feet, a hand clutching her throbbing head as she looked up. She saw the demon turn away from her and throw Peyton through the door with a wave of his arm. She scrambled to her feet when he headed towards the stairs, the children shrieking in fear, and raced to the discarded shot gun by her feet. She braced it against her chest, whirling it around and aiming at the monster. "Hey!" She pulled the trigger just as he turned to face her, and she felt the gun fly from her grasp as he stumbled back from the buckshot, screaming in pain.
"Brooke!" she heard Dean's voice yell from behind her.
She whirled around, exhaling in relief when she saw him struggling to his feet.
He looked up at her with a pained expression, reaching underneath his jacket to withdraw a handgun, bracing his hands on his knees as he struggled through the pain. "Get them out of here," he shouted, straightening and making his way to the demon as he writhed on the ground. He watched as Brooke jumped over him and raced up the stairs, grasping onto Jamie's outstretched hand and knelt down next to the few remaining children, smiling at them in assurance.
"We've got to go, guys," she said softly, turning their terrified faces away as she demon suddenly leapt to his feet. "Hey, hey, it's okay, alright? I need you guys to run. Run and yell as loud as you can until someone comes to get you, okay?" She watched as they all nodded, tears streaking their terrified faces, and glanced behind them to her best friend's prone form on the ground. "Peyton?" she called out, standing to her feet and peering out the door. She saw the blonde's head turn slightly the side, and she let out a sigh of relief. She nodded, turning back to the boys around her, and knelt down to them again. "Listen, you guys have been so brave. But I need to you to be even braver now, okay? I need you to run. Now."
"Brooke!!"
Brooke looked behind her, shooting to her feet and descending a step at the sight of Dean in a losing struggle with the demon. She stopped mid-step, glancing behind her to see the boys still scared stiff in place, and she knelt in front of Jamie, taking his small face in her hands and leaning in close to him. "Jamie, I need you to be my brave little soldier today, alright? You're mom and dad and Sam are out there somewhere, and I need you to take your friends and find them. Okay?" Jamie's big blue eyes stared up at her in fear, and she could feel his hesitation. "Jamie…I know you can do this. I need you to be the brave little guy that I know you are. So please…help me get your friends out. Okay?"
She smiled when Jamie squared his little shoulders and turned to the other three boys. He looked at each of them, nodding slightly. "I know you're scared," he said. "But it's almost over. It's time for us to go home. So let's go."
Brooke bit her lip to keep from bursting with bride at the sight of her godson taking on the role of a leader, and watched as he stood in the doorway, helping the smallest of the boys step over the broken threshold, before turning and leaping down the last few steps, gritting her teeth against the pain in her legs upon impact. She scrambled forward, diving for the shot gun, and rose back to her feet as Dean threw a punch to the demon's jaw. She raised the heavy barrel to her chest and squeezed the trigger.
The kickback of the gun made her stumble backwards, and she raised her gaze to see that her shot had gone wide, splintering into the wall behind the two fighting figures. She grunted as she forced the gun back up, and closed one eye as she aimed, but upon squeezing the trigger once more, she only heard the click of an empty barrel. "Damn it," she said under her breath, shifting the gun in her hands as she ran towards them. She swung at the back of his head, clipping him on the back of his skull, and beat down the rush of satisfaction at the crunching noise she heard. The blow knocked the demon of his feet, and she took the opportunity to swing again, this time catching him between the shoulder blades. He dropped to his knees with a growl, and she saw Dean retrieve the knife he always kept sheathed in his boot.
The demon's head came up with a sickening snap, and before either of them could move, they were thrown off their feet, landing in a heap on the ground on opposites sides of the room.
Dean shook his head to clear his vision, gritting his teeth in anger. "Fight like a man, you son of a bitch!" he screamed, reaching for his gun and spinning to his feet. He pulled back the hammer and spun on his heel, but his finger froze on the trigger when his eyes sought out his target.
Brooke stood dead center in the front of the demon, its hand clenched tightly around her throat, her painted nails clawing with all their might at its skin. His other hand was fisted tightly around the arm of one of the boys--the latest one to go missing, Robbie Sanders. His bright red hair stood out in shark contrast to his chalk-white face, tears streaking his cheeks as he sobbed in fear.
Blood was dripping from a gash on the back of the demon's head, sending a trail down his neck and onto his white button-up shirt. His dark eyes were staring at him in a withering glare, his lips turned up in a confident smirk at the look of fear on his face. He chuckled, pulling Brooke tighter against him, drawing a panicked whimper from the battered brunette. "What's wrong, Winchester? Suddenly you're not so Desperado as a second ago."
Dean's eyes flicked over the doorway, where Jamie stood cowering just over the threshold, his eyes wide in fear as he watched the situation play out before him, and he silently motioned him to run; get help. Jamie's blue eyes met him in that instant, and he gave a quick nod before he turned and raced down the hall. Only when he knew the boy was truly gone did he turn back the creature before him, clenching his jaw as he met the eyes of the girl he couldn't live without. The fear he saw in them nearly did him in, and it took every ounce of strength he had not to rush the bastard right then and there.
"Let them go," Dean threatened, his voice deadly.
A dark chuckled escaped the demon's throat. "Sure thing, Sport. Just let me toss them to the side and spread my arms for the shot you're just dying to squeeze out," he mocked, glaring. "Things are just starting to get interesting. After all, I give your little comrades about five minutes before they come racing in here, guns a-blazing."
Robbie whimpered when the grip on his arm tightened, and Brooke struggled harder to free herself, merely drawing an angry growl for her captor, who jerked her roughly.
"Now's your chance, Dean. It's time to see just how much of a hero your daddy taught you to be."
Dean frowned, tightening his grip on the gun. "What?"
A patronizing smile graced the demon's face, and he laughed again. "You've postponed my plans for now, but I'll be damned if I'm going to leave here without some form of satisfaction. So it's your call, Winchester. Choose."
Dean felt his heart plummet to the bottom of his stomach, and his eyes locked with Brooke's. "Choose?"
"Which one of them is going to walk out of here," he continued, tightening his grip on both Brooke and Robbie. "The helpless, innocent little tyke with his whole life ahead of him, or the lovely little lady that tamed your wild ways. Because, believe me when I say, either one you choose will bring me the tingles when the other dies."
Dean shook his head, seeing the tears that were welling in Brooke's eyes as she struggled against the iron-vice clutching her neck. He could see her giving up, and he knew which choice was the right to make--if there WAS a right choice to make--but he couldn't bring himself to it. He knew that the demon would snap both their necks by the time his bullet left its barrel. The second footsteps were heard thundering down the hallway, he could have both their hearts ripped from their chests.
He gritted his teeth, glaring in pure hatred at the monster. "I'm not going to play your sick game."
"CHOOSE, Winchester, or so help me I'll kill them both."
"In which case, you'll be dead before you can leave your pathetic meat suit."
The smile returned, and the demon shook his head. "Do you really want to risk that? Could you really live with yourself if you killed both of them? A hapless child and the woman you love? And you call ME a monster." He turned his head to the side, pushing his nose into Brooke's hair, and inhaling deeply, humming deep in his throat. Brooke clenched her eyes shut, squirming against him, and he laughed again. "Either way you choose, it won't stop. Another one of us will come and start it all over again. And the loss you cause for today will have been in vain."
Dean growled deep in his throat, his hands shaking in rage as he aimed the gun directly at the demon's heart. "I won't choose," he growled, tightening his grip on the trigger again.
The demon smirked, pulling Robbie close to his side and squeezing his fingers deep into Brooke's skin. "Too bad," he said.
A shot rang out throughout the room, echoing off the stone walls, and the demon fell to his knees with a shout, his arms falling to his sides and releasing his captives with a shove.
Brooke gasped for breath, reaching around him and pulling a screeching Robbie into her arms and stumbling back, shielding him behind her.
Peyton was crouching in the doorway to the basement, her shot gun tight in her grasp, blood trailing from her mouth and nose as she glared at the creature kneeling on the ground.
Dean saw his chance and took a step forward, aiming his gun once more, but before he could pull the trigger, the demon threw his head back with a tortured scream, thick, black smoke billowing from his wide mouth. They all watched, helpless as the demon escaped through the cracks in the window, and the man he'd been inhabiting for who knows how long fell the ground in a broken heap.
Silence hovered around them then, the only sounds reverberating off the walls being that of a scared child sobbing in fear, and heavy breathing from the three adults recovering slowly. Dean's gun fell the ground in a clatter as he raced across the room, dropping to his knees next to Brooke and the boy, pulling her into his arms in a fierce embrace, pressing a desperate kiss to her head.
Peyton sighed from her place on the top of the stairs, cradling her shotgun across her lap as she drew her sleeve over her chin, grimacing when it came back bloody. She raised her head, meeting the gaze of her best friend, and she couldn't help the annoyance that was laced with her relief.
"Chris, Davis, what the hell is up with you and basements?"
Brooke mustered out a laugh as her friend broke the silence, and she raised her head to look up into Dean's worried eyes, and for the first time in the last few hours, let herself feel completely safe.
Seriously…longest chapter I've written so far. And I'm thinking it might be my favorite. Maybe. Though I'm entirely sure. The whole Peyton punching Dean thing really is a highlight. *grin*
Well, my lovelies…either the next chapter or the one after is the epilogue, depending on how it words out. I'm hoping to have the next chapter up by the end of the week, beginning of next. I'm furiously typing away, and delving deeper into the love that Dean and Brooke share.
Let me know what you all think of this chapter. Until next time, my dahlinks!
