Coughing, Dean covered his mouth as the plaster dust clogged his throat. Stepping over broken planks and chunks of debris, his voice cut through the creak of busted beams as he called out. "Sam!"
"Here!" Strained but alive, Sam called back from under the cloud of plaster dust that was settling on the Impala like a layer of new fallen snow. "I'm okay."
"Hold on, I'm comin'." Tossing chunks of drywall out of the way, he started to clear a path before glancing over his shoulder at Skyler, about to suggest she wait outside before the ceiling decided to fall in, the words dying in his throat when he got a good look at her. "Hey, you okay?"
Eyes wide and skin a pasty shade several tones lighter than her usual pale-as-fuck, breath hitching in her chest, she looked absolutely freaked. Taking a step back, her gaze darted to his before returning to stare at the empty air a few feet in front of her. "...I see dead people."
"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Dean's growing concern was the least of her worries just then, and Sam seemed perfectly fine, so it was acceptable for her to go ahead and lose it, right? Anyone would if confronted with the very corporeal looking ghosts of two small children standing in the middle of the room and staring at them. That was a perfectly reasonable reaction. The fact that she'd been able to crack a joke was just a plus. No, actually, that was downright miraculous.
"What the hell do you mean what the hell am I talkin' about? They're right there." Taking another step back, she spared a glance at Dean, who looked like he was having serious issues deciding between rescuing Sam and figuring out what the hell she was on about. She could see the conflict like it was written in dayglo marker across his forehead. "Dammit, Dean, get Sam!" The sooner Sam was freed, the sooner they could all get the fuck out of dodge.
"Who's right there? I swear to God, Skyler, if you're fuckin' with me-" Cursing, Dean proved he too could occasionally listen to an order and retreated back to the car, clearing large chunks of drywall out of his path before he got to the passenger side door, where Sam was currently trying to wedge all two hundred and thirty or so pounds of his gigantic frame through the window.
"Do I look like I'm fuckin' with you right now! Jesus Christ." Offended at the suggestion, Skye turned to give Dean a piece of her mind, her fear temporarily overshadowed by a flash of temper. Right up until she came face-to-face with two adorable children...that had been dead for about a quarter of a century. Well, maybe not exactly face-to-face. She wasn't that short.
Without warning, their rage at their mother flooded through her, sending her heart racing in her chest, triggering an overwhelming urge to grab the kids and run. Which, not really possible in her current situation. Feeling little hands curl into hers, she looked down and at the kids, all thought of the Winchester boys getting pushed straight out of her head.
Skin prickling, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, the fury she felt coming off the children in waves taking on an edge of fear. Mama. A flash of white out of the corner of Skye's eye and there Constance was, standing at the foot of the stairs. Her movements jerky and stilted, she looked up at the three intruders with such hatred that Skye was surprised they didn't all burst into flames on the spot.
That surge of terror that had started to fade came back in full force, rooting her to the spot and sending a shiver up her spine. Undoubtedly the same sensation a deer in the headlights felt, or maybe a rabbit with a hawk circling overhead. Not the first time she'd experienced it and she couldn't say she'd missed it.
Shoved violently and unexpectedly backward, Skye was unable to twist herself around to land safely. Hitting the floor hard enough to knock the air straight out of her lungs, she was left gasping and bruised. I am so going to feel that in the morning. Still, could have been worse. For instance, she could have still been standing there when the heavy wooden desk that had been pushed against the far wall went sailing through the air to slam the boys against the bulk of the car. Seemed like her day to get tossed around for her own good. Just don't tell the Elf.
"Skyler!"
"Is that concern I hear, Winchester?" Groaning out a reply, she struggled to sit up, wincing at the dull ache in her back. That was definitely going to hurt later. Still, could be worse. No cracked ribs, no broken bones, not even a concussion. Silver linings every-fucking-where. "You guys okay?"
Straining to get free, Sam coughed, a cloud of plaster dust exploding in the air around him as he shook his head. "We're fine."
Before she could get to her feet to see for herself, two little hands grasped hers and pulled her up. The same little hands that had just saved her ass from their homicidal mother. 'Why' was an excellent question that she unfortunately didn't have the time to ask. "...thank you."
"We're not fine, Sam, we're stuck. What the hell is going on?" Heaving against the desk pinning their legs to the car, the combined strength of both boys wasn't enough to budge it. And that meant Constance was keeping it there because no way in hell was a desk— even a three hundred pound solid Oak affair which this was not— going to win out against those two behemoths. Great.
"Don't go anywhere and I'll get back to you on that."
"Funny." Struggling against the force holding them down, Dean uttered a string of curses even Skye wouldn't say. Okay, that's a lie, she so would. And did. Regularly.
"Terrified," Skye corrected, turning her attention firmly back to Constance, who did not look at all happy and was slowly advancing on her, screeching something about 'home' and 'her children' and there may have even been a 'whore' in there which was really not fair and if she died a virgin she was going to be so pissed…
Raising her voice to be heard over the shrieking dead woman, Skye tried to step back and couldn't, the children clinging and preventing her from moving. "Startin' to think you were right and I should've just stayed in the truck."
"You think?"
"I try real hard not to unless absolutely necessary." The kids crowded her legs, looking to her for protection for reasons she couldn't even begin to fathom, staring across the rapidly shrinking space between them and Constance. The identical looks of fear and panic on their little faces were heartbreaking, and something Skye had seen on her own face a few too many times.
The vaguest glimmer of a thought that might turn out to someday be an idea sparked in the dark recesses of a brain turned to molasses by the sheer ridiculousness of the entire situation, spurred along by a rising anger and an instinct that went back to the very beginning of humanity. Save the children.
Dropping to a knee, Skye ignored the boys yelling at her, something about iron or running away? Maybe even Dean threatening to kill her himself if she didn't move her ass…? Whatever, she wasn't listening.
"The fuck is she doing?" Groaning under the strain, Dean tried to shift the weight pressing him tightly against the cold metal. He stomped hard on the fingers of panic trying to rise out of his stomach to wrap around his chest, focusing on the fact that they were all breathing and that meant there was half a chance. The shrill screaming from an entirely different part of his brain— insisting he get himself free this instant and rip Constance to shreds before she could touch Skyler— was a little harder to tune out. And more than a little disconcerting.
"...talking to herself?" Pausing in his own efforts to get loose, Sam peered through the swirling dust and shadows to where Skyler crouched a few feet away from Constance, ignoring everything around her to talk to ...nothing. At least, nothing they could see.
"I swear to God, we live through this and I'm gonna strangle her to death with her own hair."
"-it's okay." Choking the words out around the massive lump in her throat, Skye smiled, her brain screaming at her to do something— anything— other than what she was doing. Scream. Run. Cower in a corner... None of which were terribly great options and therefore her fight or flight could go fuck itself. "She can't hurt you anymore, I promise." I hope.
Hands on surprisingly solid and warm little shoulders, she slowly stood to face Constance, a reassuring smile glued firmly in place as she urged them forward. "I think maybe it's time to go show Mama exactly how much you missed her."
Hello Mommy.
The words rang out from nowhere, filling every crevice and corner around them, growing and echoing until Dean couldn't hear his own pulse thundering in his ears. The pressure holding Sam and Dean in place eased as two little kids shimmered into view, taking all of Constance's attention as they wrapped colorless arms around her. Everything went heavy as time stuttered and slowed, the air turning thick, making it a struggle to move. To breathe. To think.
Welcome home.
As if she were seeing them for the first time, Constance blinked down at her children, the insanity that had driven her fading. Grief and regret flooded her, clear enough for even a blind man to see. Skye almost found herself feeling sorry for Constance. For about two seconds. After all, she'd murdered her own kids and then herself and then who knows how any men. They'd been cheating assholes, sure, but that was worthy of an ass-kicking and a break up, not a death sentence.
The children's voices faded into nothing and the stillness returned and for just a moment, Skye was wondering if that was somehow it. Can you say anti-climactic? ...a thought she promptly regretted as a swirling Hell-pit of shrieking doom split open beneath Constance's feet.
"...oh, fuck me." Clearing the desk, Dean wasted no time in scrambling over the debris covering the cluttered space between him and Skye. Grabbing her around the waist, he spun them both away from the chasm of swirling insanity yawning at her feet.
"What are you doing?" Knocked off balance when she started to struggle, Dean had to shout to be heard over the keening roar that tore at the edges of his mind. Locking an arm around her waist, he fought to pull her toward the gaping hole the Impala had left in the wall. "We have to go. Now!"
Jesus, it's like trying to hold a pissed off cat. Twisting in his arms, she was hard to keep hold off, and Christ she had sharp elbows ...and a dancer's legs, as Dean could attest when she used one of them on him and the next thing he knew, he was curled up on the floor trying not to throw up.
Holy fuck, that hurt. A hand between his legs, Dean tried to convince his diaphragm that breathing was a good thing, barely managing to gasp out a handful of words, "Sam, grab her!"
The kids. She had to get to the kids still clasped in Constance's arms. There was no thought behind it, just the most basic of instincts. Save the children.
...and considering she didn't like being grabbed at the best of times, she really couldn't be blamed for what happened next. The single rational part left in her brain recognized that Dean was trying to help and was going out of his way not to hurt her. Unfortunately for it, and for Dean, she was fully willing to exploit that fact.
Jamming her elbows into Dean's stomach, she forced him to loosen his hold long enough for her two twist around to face him. A bit of space and a little leverage later, she was free and he was gasping for Sam to stop her. Fat chance. Sam might be six feet of legs, but she was closer and not exactly slow. Also highly motivated.
Dropping heavily to a knee, Skyler paid no attention to the pit of the damned or the ghastly visage of Constance melting into it, only seeing the two small hands reaching for her, begging for help with panicked voices that ricocheted in her head.
In any other circumstances, seeing Skyler drop Dean like a bad habit would probably have been one of the top five moments of Sam's life. Now, however, not so much. What the hell was she doing?
"Sam, grab her!"
What else was he going to do? Taxes? Jumping over ragged chunks of ceiling, Sam vaulted over Dean's prone figure, two steps behind her when she skidded to a stop next to the vortex of horrors and dropped to her knees.
Holy shit, she was going for the children. Not that Sam had any desire to see a couple of kids get swallowed into whatever the fuck that thing was, but seriously? She was going to get herself killed and the kids were already dead, so what exactly was she trying to save?
Skyler didn't let herself think about what might happen to her if she fell into the stygian whirlpool of doomy death— probably madness and dragons and definitely nothing good— but luckily for her Sam wasn't about to let her find out first-hand.
Learning from his brother's mistake, Sam grabbed her arm instead of going for her body, wrapping a hand around her forearm. Smart man. Lifting a hand to fight him off, it took her a second to realize he wasn't trying to pull her away, his voice rising over what she could only assume was the tortured screaming of damned souls, "Can you reach them?"
"Yeah, I think so, just…" Reaching blindly for Sam's hand, she felt his fingers close firmly around her wrist, giving her the anchor she needed to stretch those few extra inches. It didn't take much to pry Constance off, she was in no kind of shape to fight back. Hell, at this point, she was barely a shape at all. Eww.
The little girl, Emilia— though how Skye knew that was a terrifying mystery in and of itself— threw her arms around Skye's neck, clutching onto her for dear life. Or death. Or whatever. Wrapping an arm around Clarke— again, no idea— -Skye hauled back, putting every bit of her ninety-eight pounds into pulling the kids free. And she'd never have managed if Dean hadn't heaved himself up off the floor, adding his strength to Sam's.
With a last burst of effort, the kids popped free like a cork from a bottle, sending all five of them sprawling. Just in time, too— because of course it was— the roiling sinkhole of agony closing with a cringe-inducing slurp that reminded Skye strongly of a particularly nasty public toilet.
Whole body throbbing, Skye blinked up at the ceiling, feeling the two kids laying next to her without having to look. "...so that's what a Hellmouth looks like."
