Chapter 6
"Dean!" Sam called for his brother, something he'd been doing ever since the last flames flickered out of existence. That was a half-hour ago.
There had been no further screaming from the Whooper, yet thick sorrow still clung to the air. The sorrow mingled with the silence, which made for a fairly disconcerting feeling. A silent breeze came gusting from somewhere, and it pranced playfully through Sam's hair as though to assure him that all was well. There was one problem with that assurance though: it was false.
"Dean!" Sam called again and impatiently pushed aside a small tree. It snapped under the force he applied and the sound blared through the night like a gunshot.
The sound of pounding footsteps grew near to him and he turned, ready to fight should the need present itself. A dark form stood in front of him and as the moonbeams shimmered across the face, his eyes grew wide.
"Dean told you to stay in the circle!" Sam replied sharply.
"I know, but this is important." Ron's voice floated to him.
"What is it?" Sam asked, his heart beating in hopes of good news.
"Gray woke up after the screaming stopped. He was asking about you and saying something about Dean being taken. He was talking nonsense." Ron replied.
"Dean was taken. I don't know where to, but he's gone." Sam spoke. His voice was distantly hollow.
Ron was silent, his mouth worked without words, and Sam saw the muscles in his jaw tighten and his face became hard and set.
"Do you want help to look for him?" Ron asked.
Sam nodded anxiously. Yes, he wanted help. He wanted to find Dean.
"Okay then. Where was he last?" Ron questioned.
Sam was quiet as he tried to work through the past hour or so and searched for a way to explain what had happened, without running the risk of sounding completely insane. He realized that there was no way to achieve that goal.
"This is going to sound crazy, but I swear that it's true." Sam began.
"Sam, after what I've been through tonight, nothing can phase me."
"That's good, because you have to have an open mind about what I'm about to tell you. There are things that walk among us, things you only heard of in campfire stories as a kid. It may be hard to take in, but they exist. Dean and I hunt these things." Sam replied.
"So, you two are like modern day ghost busters without all that fancy busting technology?" Ron asked.
"You could say that. We just call it hunting. Either way the supernatural is real and it lives, or rather lived in these woods."
"I got that much when that thing showed itself. Wait, you said it lived in these woods, does that mean you got rid of it?" Ron questioned seriously.
"I think so, yeah." Sam said, yet his voice was hesitant.
"But?"
"But, Dean's still missing. The Whooper pulled him under when he was trying to dig up the bones to burn them." Sam replied, casting nervous eyes to the charred hole in the forest floor.
"The Whooper took him to the underworld?" Ron wondered.
"Not necessarily the underworld, but somewhere, and I don't know where."
"Then we should find him. Tyler's back at the ring with Gray, they're safe."
"Good." Sam finalized and began to search by the light of the moon.
Dean fell and his landing momentarily dazed him. When he awoke, it was to the sound of wind rustling through treetops overhead. How long had he been out?
He forced his heavy eyes to open and winced at the lance of pain it sent shattering through the nerves in his brain. He groaned wearily and propped himself up on his elbows. Where was Sam?
He squinted into the darkness and saw a shapeless shadow moving through it. The shadow stopped and turned to face Dean. Green eyes glittered menacingly from within the darkened depths and an instant feeling of cold hit him. He found himself shivering uncontrollably as the formless shadow came upon him. It drifted lazily across the ground and came to stop mere feet away from Dean's vulnerable position. It only watched him silently.
Was it going to kill him? If so, why didn't it go ahead and get it over with? No, Dean didn't think it wanted to kill him, but he couldn't be sure. Malice hidden in the green eyes made him doubt his escaping alive.
"Um, hi?" Dean tried, his voice rasping weakly in his parched throat.
A scream split the night in half. The Whooper was singing again, and Dean stumbled to his feet, eyes trained on the shadow, and not moving elsewhere. The shadow reached a long, dark hand out to him and Dean pulled away in nervous disgust. He didn't want that thing touching him. The shadow lunged and Dean ducked. The entity once again began to advance on his position. Dean kept moving away, the Whooper kept following.
"Persistent bastard, aren't ya?" Dean spoke, his voice still hushed.
The screaming grew louder and the shadow drew nearer. It thrust a hand forward and Dean felt his stomach twist in an icy cold that quickly spread throughout his entire body. The Whooper locked eyes with Dean and continued to scream for vengeance.
"I get the picture. Now, shut up!" Dean yelled. The Whooper didn't hear, it kept screaming.
Sudden and deadly silence fell over the land. Above the ringing in his ears, Dean heard his heart as it pumped wildly and the blood rushed through his veins. He shivered under the chill, but showed no sign of weakness. The Whooper stared him down and Dean hazarded a step back. His foot hit nothing but air and he quickly returned it to the solid ground on which he stood.
Where the hell was he? Nowhere familiar, that was for sure. Where was Sam? Was he okay? Dean could only hope that he was, because his younger brother was nowhere in his line of vision. Only the shadowy woods stared blankly back at him with eyes of stone that never shifted from their target. That target was Dean. The Whooper hovered dangerously close and the next instant flashes of a brutal murder flickered sickly through Dean's mind and clouded his vision with their gory scenes.
A young man with dark hair and green eyes backed away from a larger man wielding a knife. The dark haired man hit a wall and whimpered in fear as the other man brought the knife down to slash through the air, only to be stopped by the young man's arm that was raised for protection. The man screamed, and the scream ghosted through the woods and made Dean shiver. Dean struggled to see the face of the murderer, but failed, the face was covered in shadows.
The large man continued to drop the knife onto the whimpering and screaming man until the green eyes glazed over and the last dying screams drifted into the night. The large man smiled and went about removing anything of value the young man had. He then left the young man bleeding on the floor and with a final smirk of satisfaction and greed he bolted through the door and into the forest, which was beginning to darken as evening came to fall upon it.
Dean tried to go after him, but found that he was frozen to the very spot he stood. He was frozen like a statue, destined to gaze upon the world through sightless eyes that never moved. All Dean could do was watch. He did. He watched as the young man bled out and darkness came to fall over the cabin. The doors were thrown open to bang against the wall and a group of men hurried in, only to find the young man dead.
Dean tried to move again, and was relieved when he was able to take a step forward. He ran for the door, maybe he'd still be able to catch a glimpse of the murderer. Why did he want to do that? The murder was years old, but Dean felt compelled to follow the guilty man and so he did. He left the cabin behind and ran through the woods, his feet hit the ground without sound as he ducked and dodged through a twisting path only to be stopped next to an inlet from the river. A group of men stood quietly around a shallow grave and Dean pushed through the crowd to peer into the hole. The green-eyed man had been placed gently at the bottom and his hands had been folded across his chest.
Dean was silent as the man was buried. When the deed was done, a man stuck a wooden marker in the freshly disturbed dirt and nodded solemnly. The men vanished and Dean was alone with the fresh grave. He knelt down and placed a hand atop the ground. It was warm under his touch and he recoiled in fright as a hand broke through the surface. It was the classic scene from a zombie movie, but it scared the hell out of Dean. He scooted back as the mutilated form of the young man pulled himself from the dirt and cast green eyes on Dean's prone form.
The man began to advance and flickered in and out of existence. Dark curls fell across the man's forehead. He kept coming. Dean kept scooting. The ground ended and Dean felt himself tumbling back and cried out in surprise as he was submerged beneath icy water that grabbed at him like a hungry predator. He flailed wildly and broke through the surface only to see the young man standing calmly in front of him, eyes clouded with an unknown malice that Dean didn't like. The man reached for Dean and locked his hand around his neck. Dean struggled to breathe as he was shoved under the water.
He resurfaced and the man kept a strong gaze on him, as well as a grip around his neck. As Dean watched with fearful eyes, the man transformed into the shapeless shadow that Dean had grown accustomed to seeing wondering the woods. The green eyes still stared at him; they were the only things remotely human about the Whooper. The Whooper flickered again and his grip loosened, Dean pulled away and watched the Whooper scream in pain before ghosting away with a final cry that shook the night.
The forest settled and Dean clambered out of the water and onto the riverbank where he shuddered against the chill that struck him. He turned to face the water and noted with a sense of awe that he was standing on the edge of Whooper spring. Whooper spring! That meant that he was close to the grave, and hopefully Sam. He heard footsteps behind him and turned, expecting to see Sam. Instead he saw nothing, but felt two hands firmly shove him back into the water. Pain blossomed in his skull as it connected with one of the rocks that pierced the water's surface.
Colourful dots danced in front of his vision and through the light show, he saw the green eyes of the murdered man watching him sternly before misting away. Dean struggled to gain his composure, but failed, he felt himself dip under the water and then darkness overtook his vision.
