Part two :) WARNING- this is the most gruesome thing I've ever written. You've been warned. This is what happens when an SPN ff writer gets in a really dark place...
Special thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing. You help pull me back to the surface. I have a list of your requests, I will work through them as I get sparks from the prompts, I promise. Just please remember that the sparks take a LONG time to come to the surface and are often tempered by my work and emotional state. Thanks for hanging in there with me. You matter to me. Biggest thanks to my biggest cheerleader, Jenmm31.
A/N- in this story Natalie is 20. Please see profile page for disclaimer. Warnings for graphic depiction of violence.
Part 2
Natalie was frozen in absolute horror, staring at what was left of Tyler. There was nothing but a bloody smear in the grass from where his lower half had once been, dried and crusted in the dead grass. It was obvious that whatever tore him apart had dragged his legs away. His guts had spilled out of the torn torso and spread about, like wild things had feasted on them. Chunks of skin and cloth were laying around his body, and about ten feet away, Natalie could see one of his boots. With what looked like a picked-clean leg bone still sticking straight out from it.
Between the sight and the smell, Natalie's mind and body couldn't take it, shutting down and going into a full-system reset to get rid of the horrors inside. She lurched to the left, back behind the boxes and away from the grisly mess that had been Tyler, and her stomach turned itself inside out. Hot bile spewed from her mouth uncontrollably, her mind a complete mess as it tried desperately to make sense of what was happening to her body. As she felt the second wave of nausea come on, she gained enough awareness to try to reach up and hold her hair back, but suddenly realized her hair wasn't in her face. She was still heaving too hard to turn her head to check, but instinctively she knew Dean was there, holding her hair back from her face.
Weakly, she reached over to try to push him away- he didn't need to deal with this- but he didn't budge. "Stop it," he scolded quietly, gently. "Just get it all up, kid. It's okay." Feeling even worse at hearing that, Natalie was too weak to fight as another spasm rocked her to her core. When there was absolutely nothing left inside her, it took another moment for the dry heaving to stop. Once it finally did, she just stayed bent in half, desperately trying to catch her breath. She didn't even have enough strength to wipe the streaming tears from her eyes, which made her even more upset. It was too much. It was just too much. She started to hyperventilate, and Dean reached over and grabbed her around the waist, knowing she didn't have the strength to stand up straight.
"Okay, come on, you gotta move," he said firmly. "You need to get away from here, baby girl." He was mildly surprised when she responded like a rag doll, letting him drag her away from the scene, not even showing resistance at the childish nickname. It let him know how truly affected she was, body AND mind. And that scared the living hell out of him.
Dean finally succeeded in getting her up against the wall of the warehouse, firmly holding her and gently guiding her to a seated position on the ground. He was a little relieved when she angrily began brushing the tears off her cheeks. There was his girl. She was coming back to herself. Still breathing hard, she spat on the ground away from Dean, trying to get the taste of the bile out of her mouth. "Sorry," she muttered in a low, angry tone.
Dean barely succeeded in stopping his eye roll. "Kid, I would have been more worried if you COULD have stomached that."
Natalie groaned. "Don't say stomach," she begged, closing her eyes and resting her head on the wall behind her as she tried to tame her churning insides.
"Sorry," Dean said, smothering his grin. He hated himself a little for smiling right then, but it was his go-to. When things got too much, too rough to take, he always had to find the humor. In this situation, there wasn't much to draw from though. "Anyway, don't apologize. You should have seen me the first time I saw something that bad.
"What happened?" Natalie said, opening her eyes and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Probably not the best time to go into detail on that story," Dean answered. "Look. You stay here for a minute. I need…" he trailed off. She turned her head to look at him.
"You need to call Uncle Sam and Mitch," Natalie whispered, closing her eyes and leaning back against the concrete wall when he nodded once in confirmation. She couldn't imagine a worse phone call to have to make. She felt so bad for her father, but she couldn't do anything to help- not right now. She didn't hear Dean walk away though, so she opened one eye back up to see what was going on. He was still staring at her, not moving.
"You gonna be okay?" he asked bluntly. "I'll be right back. I ain't going far."
"Dad, I'm okay," she said, her cheeks burning, embarrassed. "I'm good. Just… I'm okay." She closed her eyes and leaned back again, willing herself to return to a normal color and trying to keep the images of Tyler's torn body out of her head. Dean reluctantly stepped away from her. She didn't want to look to see how far he'd gotten, but she knew he was going far enough away from her that she wouldn't hear the details. She could make out Dean's low voice talking to Sam, and tried to block the entirety of the sound out, focusing instead on her own breathing. After a moment or two, it started to work- the only sound she could hear was the air going in and out of her lungs. She abstractly wondered if this was what it was like to meditate. If so, she could seriously get behind this.
She focused all her energy and might into her own breathing, regulating the sound and her heartbeat, willing them all to slow down and return to normal. She lost track of time, just focusing on the sound of the air as it went in and out of her body. But nothing could block out the sudden, visceral cry of the father seeing his fallen son.
*SPN SPN SPN*
An hour later, they were gathered around a huge pile of freshly cut logs and branches. Dean had flat-out refused to let Natalie have anything to do with gathering the body, putting her to work with Sam on cutting the wood. She didn't put up much of a fight, still too weak at even the memory of the situation. Sam had followed her lead in silence as they worked. She knew he was keeping a sharp eye on her, but they had always had an unspoken understanding about when she was upset. He seemed to just know what she needed, and he understood that she couldn't talk right now. Not that she didn't want to; she simply couldn't.
At one point her mind overwhelmed her again and she froze in place; the small hand ax she was holding suddenly feeling like a hundred thousand pounds. It fell from her numb fingers to the ground as the tears poured from her eyes with no warning whatsoever. And then Sam had been right there, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight to his chest, one strong, solid hand pressing her head to his heart. She wrapped her arms around him like a vice, desperately needing the quiet, solid comfort he offered as her body was wracked with sobs. When the overwhelming wave of sorrow passed after about ninety seconds, she finally relaxed her arms a bit. Sam followed her body language, only releasing her when he felt her gently needing to move away. He smoothed her hair back from her blotchy face, pressed his lips to her forehead, and waited. She nodded once in thanks, still unable to speak, and dragging her sleeve under her nose again before reaching down to pick the ax back up and finish the job. They both silently went back to cutting the wood they needed.
Dean and Mitch had gathered up the remains using a sheet from the Impala's trunk. The sheet they always had and prayed they'd never need on any hunt. It was disheartening to think of how many times they had had to replace that sheet. Once they were all finished and the white mound was laying on top of the logs, Mitch had silently tossed his own lighter onto the pyre. All he said, in a hoarse, scratchy voice, was, "He would have wanted me to be the one to light it."
Natalie kept her eyes on the growing flames, her fists firmly stuffed into her jacket pockets, her face stoic. No trace of tears on her face right now, even though her mind was racing with her memories of Tyler. Him walking her to the bunker after hanging out in town, her first date with him at the coffee shop, sneaking away that time in Buffalo and making out on that basketball court at midnight when Dean thought she was asleep in the motel room. How could her mind bring all these happy memories when everything inside her felt like leaden sadness?
There was a part of her that wanted to give in to the little kid impulses pounding her brain right now. Seek out a hug from her daddy, hold her uncle's hand, drawing strength from the ones in her life who had always offered it. But the more stubborn part of her wanted to stand on her own two feet. To be just as strong as they were, and prove that nothing would take her down. So she gritted her teeth and forced herself to watch the flames consume her first crush, her first kiss- the first boy she'd ever felt real feelings for.
After Tyler was truly gone, Mitch turned to the family, keeping his bloodshot eyes on the grass. "Thank you," he said in a scratchy, quiet voice. "I appreciate all you all did. Now get out of here before the same thing happens again." He hefted his shotgun, pumped it once, and turned on his heel, marching straight for the warehouse.
Sam, the first one to realize Mitch's sudden intentions, shot forward, grabbing the man's arm. "Whoa, whoa! Hold on Mitch, you can't go back in there," Sam said, incredulous. Mitch tried to pry his arm loose, but Sam wasn't letting go. Mitch turned to him then, his sorrow-filled eyes piercing into Sam's.
"The hell I can't," the man said, his iron will manifesting itself in his voice. "Those bastards took my boy. The demons took my wife. I don't have anyone or anything left. So I'm taking out as many of them as I can before I go join my family."
"Mitch-"
"Get out of here. You did your part, and I thank you. I can never repay you for what you did, even if I lived a thousand lifetimes, and I know that. So give me my final request and go. Leave me be."
Dean stepped forward at that. "Sorry, Mitch. Can't do that," he said in his firm, no nonsense voice. Mitch turned his glare on the oldest Winchester.
"That's exactly what you're gonna do. You need to get your kid out of here while you still can." Mitch's eyes narrowed, knowing that he was hitting Dean below the belt with that one, but not giving a damn. Dean's lungs turned to ice at the thought of Natalie going the same way Tyler just had.
Sam shoved the terror of losing Natalie to the side and refocused on Mitch. "Mitch, we are hunters. All of us. We save lives. And your life is worth saving, man." At that, Mitch lost it completely. He wretched away from Sam with another heart shattering cry.
"NO!" he screamed at Sam. "No, it isn't! Don't you get it? Everything I have, everything that I was living for, just went up in flames. Tyler was the only reason I had left. The only thing that I was fighting for. And I failed. I failed him as a father, as a hunter, as a human being. I lost the fight. I'm worth nothing. The only thing I can even remotely do to try to leave this god-forsaken ball of mud with any shred of dignity is to avenge what I was fighting for!" He suddenly raised the twelve gauge, pointing it at Sam. Sam immediately threw his hands in the air, surrendering. Dean lunged forward, a dangerous growl crossing his lips, but Mitch swung around and pointed the gun at Dean instead. Dean stopped in his tracks, but threw one hand behind him, silently warning Natalie to not make a move.
"Mitch," Sam said quietly but insistently, his hands still in the air. "Don't do this."
"Don't make me do this," Mitch countered. Even though he was still angry, the pain behind the idea of having to take a shot at the Winchesters was there in his tone. He began slowly backing away from the family, alternating his target between Sam and Dean. When he was just far enough away, he suddenly turned and took off towards the warehouse, sprinting around the corner.
Sam spun on his heel towards his brother. "Dean, we can't let him go without at least trying," he begged. "There could be another ambush in there waiting for him." Dean was already pulling his gun back out, completely in line with his brother's thoughts. He turned to face his daughter.
"Stay here," he ordered her.
"I'm not letting you out of my sight," she shot back firmly.
In that moment, Dean saw exactly what Sam saw when he talked about him and Natalie being one and the same. The only reason Dean believed that Natalie said those words and not he himself was that it had been her voice saying it. So he, more than anyone in the universe, knew the drive and the determination behind those green eyes that were the copy of his. But he had to make sure. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't know for sure.
Dean closed the gap in between them in a heartbeat. He gently but firmly took hold of her chin, looking right into her eyes. She didn't so much as blink. "Look at me," he ordered, even though she was staring directly at him. But she knew exactly what he meant, and what he was actually looking for. "Are you up for this?" he asked roughly, but not unkindly. She gazed back, solid power radiating off her.
"Yes, sir," she answered back firmly, doubling down on her determination. Dean held her gaze, waiting to see if there was any flicker of despair or doubt in it. He found nothing- just solid resolve. His stomach gave a funny turn as he realized his baby girl was crossing another threshold into adulthood. She was growing up again, losing more of the fear and the innocence of childhood. But he was in full hunter mode himself, and forced himself focused on the fact that she was one of the goddamn strongest people that he knew, facing this horrible moment head on and determined to beat it. That was all he needed to know.
"Alright," he said quietly but insistently. "You stay close and you stay alert. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
Dean moved his hand from under her chin to her cheek for a moment, resting it there and just gazing at her. All too soon, he broke away, turning in the direction Mitch had run. "Let's go," he snarled. Sam and Natalie were right behind him.
*SPN SPN SPN*
By the time they had gotten into the warehouse, the smell was so insane that it almost became obsolete. The stench of wounded flesh permeated everything so deeply it became part of the environment instead of a distraction to it. Natalie would still probably never leave the shower again after this was all over, and clear off the air freshener and scented candle shelves of every store they encountered on the way home, but for now, she could deal.
It was strange. Normally, she dealt with a bit of sweat on her palms from nerves, but right now, her grip on her gun was solid as a rock. Not a drop of sweat on her hands at all. Maybe she was still just too mentally shut-down to let her mind focus on anything other than finding and saving Mitch. She wasn't complaining.
They stayed close together. Dean wasn't willing to let either of them break off, especially not knowing exactly what they were up against. They tried to follow Mitch's path, but even in his crazed state, he was still apparently mindful of being seen or followed. They lost the trail the moment they got into the warehouse. The floor had been tread upon by too many things to pinpoint one set of footprints, and Mitch was using that to his advantage, or so they discovered when they found his boots tossed to one side. Dean closed his eyes in anger at the discovery, then kept pressing forward.
As they made their way silently through the warehouse, trying to latch on to anything they could find to give them a directional clue, Natalie's mind was wildly flipping through the catalogue of monsters in her mental rolodex. What the hell were these things? They fit somewhat of the physical description of zombies, but the festering wounds were new. To zombies, anyway. Wraiths had rotting skin, but not open sores. Not to mention, Mitch originally thought it was a rugaru from the description of the murders at that camp site. Zombies didn't tear people apart. And at that realization, the image of Tyler's broken body once again took the forefront of her mind. Natalie shut it down instantly, shaking her head. She doubled the grip on her gun and focused on her breathing and trying to take even quieter steps.
The silence was suddenly shattered by the loud reverberating crack of a shotgun. Dean instantly broke out into a run in the direction of the sound, Sam and Natalie hot on his heels. Mitch was still alive- for now. But judging from the sound, he was much deeper into the warehouse than they originally thought. Not good.
The blast echoed again and again, followed by snarling and shrieking that turned to guttural screams. Mitch was taking them out, but with a loud roar, they could all tell when the monsters started fighting back. The animalistic monsters screams died out and were replaced by a thin, human cry of pain. As one, all the Winchesters broke into an even faster sprint.
They rounded the corner just in time to see one of the monsters yank Mitch's head back and tear his throat out. Blood sprayed from the man's neck as he fell to the floor, twitching one final time, then laid still.
Flanking Dean's right, Natalie took precision aim and blasted the head off the monster that was reaching for Mitch's corpse. The monster's head exploded with the impact of the bullet, splattering the walls with its thick, almost black colored blood.
It turned into absolute pandemonium. There had to be at least fifteen of these creatures in the room with them- way more than the Winchesters were expecting. The gray, mottle-skin on the monsters' bodies became a blur of silver as they assessed the three humans stupid enough to wander into their lair. They bared their rotting fangs. The blasts of guns echoed around the room, adding to the snarls and terrifying roars of the monsters. Looking for a safe place to put her back to as she'd been taught, Natalie took up a position on the right side of the room, trying to kick the cardboard boxes out of her way to eliminate any hiding places. She got about a foot from the wall, ensuring that nothing could sneak up behind her. As two monsters pressed in towards her, she took laser focus aim, quickly catching them each in the chest, one right after the other, right where the heart would be on a human. They both shuddered to a stop in surprise before falling to their knees and collapsing.
She took a second to search for Sam and Dean. They had both found their own places to shoot from, and the monsters, assuming that they were the bigger threat, were focusing on them. Just as Natalie raised her gun to shoot the one closing in on Sam, Dean blasted it away. The brothers worked in tandem as one, dispatching two monsters with ease, just knowing where the other one was at all times. Natalie allowed herself a tiny smile at the privilege of getting to watch the Winchester Brothers in their top form.
She suddenly became aware of two creatures creeping away from the pack and attacking Mitch's body. It made no sense- he was already dead, why were they attacking him? Until one of them leaned down and ripped a hunk of flesh off Mitch's exposed forearm. These things weren't attacking- they were feasting.
With a roar of pure adrenaline, Natalie swung her gun at them in a rage, firing a blast that knocked the chewing one backwards. Strings of gore were still stuck in its curved and blackish fangs as it fell backwards and moved no more. The other creature suddenly whipped around and locked eyes with the hunter. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then the creature pointed one mottled, gray finger at her and screamed- almost as if it knew her.
As one, every creature in the room turned as if commanded, focusing on Natalie. She swore she saw their yellowed, insane eyes widen as they looked at her, before converging on her as one. She could barely hear Sam and Dean's voices as they realized the entire horde had shifted its focus to her, because the din of snarls and shrieks from the monsters was mind-numbing and terrifying.
And then something strange happened.
Something unlocked deep inside Natalie. A door she never realized was there before swung wide open. The new feeling flooded her senses and took over. Her emotions shut down, her racing brain shut down. Both were replaced with a computer-like ability to analyze, think, and react. It was as if she became, literally, a killing machine. Almost calmly, she assessed the first and most immediate danger, raised her gun, and blew it away. She instantly locked in on the next closest monster, dispatching it with ease. She fired with precision again and again, and the moment she ran out of bullets, she let the gun drop from her hand with no thought, reaching down and pulling her deadly knives from her boots. Still in a slightly crouched position, she tilted her head up in time to see the rest of the horde a mere ten feet from her.
She smiled a deadly smile. Bring it on, bitch, she thought.
Natalie whirled into battle, her daggers plunging again and again into vital organs, eye sockets, anywhere that she could drop them quickly and move on to the next. Her entire world became a blur of snarls, snapping fangs, and spattered black blood. She plunged both daggers into the chest of the monster directly in front of her with a powerful roar. She choked up on the hilts, using them to act as driving levers and slam the not-quite-dead body of the monster into its two companions who had dared to try to attack her from the side. The momentum was so powerful it knocked both monsters to the ground, getting them out of the way. Natalie took a fresh grip on the daggers still buried in the creature's chest, and yanked them in opposite directions. The monster's chest shredded with a spatter of putrid blood, barely registering what had happened before it dropped dead. She withdrew the daggers as the creature fell, casually flicking her wrists as if slightly annoyed there was so much gore on her beautiful knives, before spinning around and taking out another one on her left.
After she had dropped about five of them, only then did she begin to feel a slight burn in her arms from the exertion. The detached part of her brain noted that this was a little odd. On yesterday's vamp hunt, her arm had been killing her after taking out three monsters. She should be much more tired than she was…but she just wasn't. Odd. Oh well. Shrugging that off, she spun back into the melee.
Finally, after shoving her dagger underneath the chin of the final monster so hard that the lower part of his face split in two, Natalie stepped back, looking around at the carnage surrounding her and breathing hard. She had dropped nine of the beasts, not counting the two cannibals that she had shot earlier.
Only then did it occur to her that she hadn't been alone here. The door that had been opened inside her quietly shut and she felt herself return. The mechanical killing machine faded back into whatever recesses of her mind it hid in. She felt emotion and common sense return as she scanned the room for her father and her uncle. There was a huge mess of toppled boxes in the far upper corner of the room. She jogged over there as it looked like someone had fallen into them. She was right- there was a dead monster with a giant hole in its chest in the middle of the pile. But that was it.
A sense of panic suddenly took root as she fully came back to herself. Natalie spun around, her eyes wildly darting around the room. As her view failed to give her what she was desperately looking for, the panic grew and grew, expanding into her lungs, her stomach, her heart. There was no Sam in this room. There was no Dean. The toppled boxes and various litter around the room told her they had put up a hell of a fight, but they weren't here. They had been taken. Just like Tyler had been. And with a horrified jolt, her brain connected the fact that she knew how that last situation had turned out.
"No," she said with the last breath of air in her lungs.
