Here we go, ladies & gents ~ lets get this on the road, shall we? BEFORE THE FINAL CHAPTER ~ The Devil's Come Out To Play
It was night.
The trees stood crowded; their roots covered by thick undergrowth.
In the darkness, red gleaming eyes were darting vaguely at him, though they didn't seem to mind him that much. If it hadn't been for their growls and the sounds they were making when they scurried through the undergrowth, Dean might have not even noticed them just yet in the first place.
THEY, flashed through his mind. These things had to be what Sam had called THEY.
At least whatever this place was, it wasn't quite what Dean had awaited. Actually, it had been nothing of what he had thought it would be.
He's imagined it to be the asylum, or an abandoned house … like the one they've been at, when everything got ugly.
"Sam!", he called out, not quite sure if it was a wise thing to do, but he did it anyway.
Wherever Sam was hiding, he needed to find him, talk to him, to get him out of this place and back into the light and that fast.
Deep down Dean had hoped, he had withdrawn into a nicer place. Or, better said, that Sam's mind WAS a better place than this.
Somewhere brighter and cozier, where he'd hide away from what was haunting him. Realization struck hard, now that he was here and that it was not such a nice place at all. If anything, it was dark, threatening, and utterly eerie.
"Sam!", he called out again, looking around, trying to find a hint on in which direction he was supposed to head.
As the hunter knew, someone's mind could include more places than just one. But figuring, that since he had landed here, it was implying, that Sam had to be around somewhere, and that he couldn't be far.
He caught a glimpse of red eyes skirring across a narrow path close before him.
The hunter held his place for a long moment, thinking, waiting. Again, he called the younger man's name.
There was rustling to his left and then to his right. Again, red gleaming eyes were seen for a split second, catching his attention.
As it seemed, they were all heading towards the same destination.
"Sammy!", he yelled once again. His voice echoed and broke.
And again – there was no answer.
Dean decided to follow the narrow path before him, which seemed to lead into the same direction as those things were drawn to. If this was Sam's mind, and there was a path, it had to head some place that was important. At least Dean Winchester hoped so.
After all Sam had drawn the symbol. Telling him – them – what to look for. How to figure out with what they were dealing. With what SAM was dealing.
It didn't take long, until the hunter reached a clearing. He stopped dead in his tracks at the last row of trees separating him from it. Through them, he could see a house in the clearing's middle.
A house, that looked pretty fucking much like Bobby's.
Though, something eerie lingered there, making him feel antsy and utterly nervous.
When he stepped out into the clearing, something cracked beneath his heavy boots. Shards. Dean cast his look down, and spotted more of them. It looked like there's been a dome made of glass around the clearing which had been broken and had rained down. Littering the entire clearing.
IT got in; Sam's words echoed through his mind.
Dean looked back up and let his gaze roam over the clearing and the rows of trees, spotting red gleaming eyes all around him. Hearing more and more intense growls and rustling.
He took another step towards the house and another one.
The closer he came, the louder the growls got, until hellish howls mixed among the sounds filling the cool air.
He wished there had been some kind of weapon he would've been able to take with him. Though, there wasn't. Nothing from outside this dream-world would work in here. - Not as long as it wasn't made up by Sam himself. So, if he would be lucky, he'd get a hold of something inside the house. After all it was supposed to be Bobby's and Bobby's house was practically littered with weapons of all kinds.
Dean picked up speed as he crossed the few yards towards the house's door.
Should he knock?
Should he go inside without forewarning?
He had no clue what was the wiser move to make. So, he decided to not knock and to just be as quiet as he possibly could.
The door was not locked. So, he opened it slowly, taking special effort in not making any noise as he did so. He opened the door completely and kept his stance at the threshold, taking in the inside closely.
There was no furniture. No books. There was nothing. Not even the staircase, nor the upper floor.
The house was hollowed out, like a pumpkin on Halloween.
As much, to he'd find weapons inside …
"Sam!", he called out gingerly and his eyes narrowed down on the small corridor, which was supposed to lead to the basement's door and towards Bobby's panic-room.
Suddenly, there was a shift in the atmosphere. It was loaded with electricity and then, the last thing Dean Winchester sensed was movement behind him, short followed by a thump and a searing pain to the back of his head.
SPN
"Thanks' for letting' me in, buddy." Dean heard his own voice echo in the empty house, though he was pretty damn sure he hadn't said a single word.
Before he could possibly wrap his head around what was happening, he got sucked into the darkness of unconsciousness mercilessly again.
SPN
When Dean Winchester regained control over his senses, it was cold. At least parts of his body felt cold. It was damn fucking cold, and the surface beneath him felt damp, so did his clothes.
Some parts of him felt warm on the other hand. A soothing warmth only burning wood could provide.
There was the heavy thumping against the insides of his skull, and a distant ringing in his ears. Dean felt a dull ache in his chest and eventually smelled burned wood, as his olfactory system decided to kick in.
The Winchester cursed and he stemmed his palms into the ground beneath him, cursing when a particular sharp shard cut into it.
"Sam?", he asked hoarsely.
"A little bitch isn't he?" Again, Dean Winchester heard his own voice ring in his ears. "Thought burnin' down his mental fortress would drive him out. - But yet … it didn't." The voice sounded mocking and amused and somehow bitter.
Dean grunted when he sat up and blinked his eyes open to get them to focus on something – anything. He blinked again, until the blur was finally fading, and his gaze fell onto a man.
A man that looked so much like him – in every single damn way. It was him. Though … with pitch-black eyes instead with green ones.
Dean's eyes trained on the figure pacing forth and back in front of him in slow long strides until it stopped.
"Didn't think he'd be that clever. - Making up YET another place where I can't go ..." The not-so-much-Dean chuckled slyly. "Though … now I got you." He shrugged and clacked his tongue, black orbs fixed on Dean.
The hunter winced and groaned as he stood up and straightened his back. "So … you're what he's hiding from.", he stated, taking the man before him in intently, memorizing his every move, the way the muscles in his face worked, the fierce expression on his face.
"I'm you. Dean. I'm that tiny bit that's left from the curse.", Not-Dean said calmly. "It ain't finished until the counter-part's dead. Really dead. – Like dead dead. No dying, coming back and everything's peachy again, Winchester."
Dean's eyes narrowed further. "So … you're not tellin' me: Sam made you up. To deal." Of course, Dean already knew what they were dealing with, but that didn't mean that IT had to know about that too.
Not-Dean chuckled again, as if he was truly amused by doubting his words. "You think?" Black-Eyed-Dean stopped in his tracks and turned on his heels so to face the hunter completely. Then he sighed and shook his head. "Maybe Sam could've dealt with it. - Actually, I'm pretty sure he would have … If I've let him."
Dean Winchester would have loved to wipe that mischievous grin from the other man's face.
"But I didn't. I opened some nice-looking boxes keeping shit locked away. - After that it was practically a walk in the park to make him withdraw, look out for somewhere to hide in his mind. - He eventually found this place." Now Not-Dean didn't seem as much amused anymore. "Who would've thought he'd find a way to lock me out AGAIN, so I wouldn't get to him? He's a real pain in the ass isn't he?"
He then smiled.
Dean smiled too – pride flaring up inside of him, that Sam wasn't one to get the drop on that easy.
"But now … I've got you now." Again, the monster chuckled. "You're going to open that door for me." He pointed behind him at the burnt down, smoldering remains of what was supposed to be Bobby's house. "He's hiding in the basement, you know? He's made up something down there."
Good boy … Dean pursed his lips. "You can't really hurt me in here, and you sure as hell can't make me do anything either." Because this was Sam's mind and not his.
Whatever Not-Dean would do to him, it wouldn't affect him outside of dream-land. At least that were the rules as far as he could tell. Though he wasn't quite sure if these rules worked on something like a curse too.
Demon-Dean clacked with his tongue again and sighed, then snipped with his finger.
That very moment, Dean's left knee gave in as searing pain lanced through it, leaving him panting and gasping. White dots danced into his vision.
"I am – indeed – not some made up fantasy of Sam's. - Unlike those memories he stored away." He motioned towards the line of trees where more and more gleaming eyes were gathering in the shadows. "I can – In fact – hurt you over here, and you sure as hell are going to suffer from any injury I cause, in the real world too." He thought for a moment. "See – there's no way of getting Sam out of here. Not by a long shot. And neither will you."
Dean thought for a moment, blood roaring in his ears, wheels going into overdrive as he attempted to figure out how to prevent himself and Sam from getting killed by that bitch before they were even able to try and expel it.
"No need to strain that pretty head of yours though.", he talked up again and took a deep inhale, his chest expanding visibly. "There's no way to get rid of me, except for Sam dying."
"We'll see about that.", Dean Winchester spat at him.
"See." There was a short pause. "You simply can't. I AM the mother of all curses. Well ..." The thing thought for a moment then rolled its eyes. "I mean … there's still the Mark. - But I'm nothing like that. The mark may be the first of all curses ever being cast, but me? I'm the very offspring. I am me, the mark and all curses that ever got cast ever since of the dawn of day.", it explained. "I AM everything."
Dean thrust his jaw forward, sternly looking back at it with green bright fire burning in his eyes.
"You can try and rid Sam from me. - But as much has to be said: I will not die. I cannot be destroyed."
SPN