(Disclaimer: Still own nothing except the plot.)
Summary: AU. Dean had just thought that it just couldn't get any worse, but let's say, moving along in time was not what he expected, especially by an angel he never expected to see again.
Chapter 2: What is That Thing? It Looks Like the Grudge Had Sex With a Wendigo
. . . .
It was now dark as the Impala hummed along the roads, and Dean loved it. There were no people infected by the Croatoan Virus leaping for them, and no worries that Lucifer was beside you. He paused and winced. Okay, he wasn't going to say that he didn't worry that Lucifer was just camping in Sam's head and waiting for the perfect opportunity to savagely murder him, even if that fear was ill advised. He knew full well that the Devil didn't wait; he did what he wanted when he wanted to do it.
Dean was just being paranoid… maybe, maybe not. There was like a two-sided war going on in his head. One was on Sammy's side screaming for Dean to realize Sam was just himself, the little nerd brother he protects, while the other side was more reserved, but still there. This one was cautious and hesitant. It told Dean to not overload his brain, but to keep in mind that this could all be a trick. He was totally lost on who to trust. He glanced sideways to go over his brother, who was messing with something that resembled a tablet. "Hey, what's the thing say now?"
Sam's face was lit up by a soft light as he turned it. "I don't know."
"I think it's broken," commented Dean, who watched as the screen go fuzzy with gray for another time. He jerked the car back into the right lane, eyes on the road this time. It has been awhile since he drove this, but he was very good if he does say so himself, just don't take that one instance into account or the few ones before.
"It shouldn't be; I just got it last week."
He almost said that technology sucked anyway, but Sam told him to turn right, which he did. "I don't think it's this way."
"Why?" Sam questioned as he observed the static-filled screen. A hand gripped the top of his head and moved it so his face was pointed out the windshield.
"That's why."
Sam let out a long exasperated sigh. "It points here."
"Well, I doubt even we could fit between those trees…" He put the car in reverse, placing his hand on Sam's seat as he turned to gaze over his shoulder. "Let's go find someone nearby, give your thing a rest. Maybe it'll work when we're dead, but probably not though." He backed up the car real fast, and when the tires hit the road, he instantly put it in drive and continued forward. They traveled up a few miles when they noticed a quaint building, and Dean pulled over, turning the car off.
"I'll be right back." Sam said as he got out of the car.
"Okay?" He stayed in his seat, raising a brow. He only got out of the car when Sam was halfway to the house, which was actually some sort of Old Person Home that Dean didn't know the name of. He leaned on Sam's door, fixing the black coat that he had put over the rest of his clothes at the last place they stopped, which had been for gas for the car. He must have been watching the house for some time because it was beginning to cause him to become agitated. His thoughts were instantly directed to something bad. He feared Sam was going to end up hurt. What if they were killing him as he just stood there? What would he do then? He clenched his hands. He couldn't lose Sam again, and he refused to let anyone hurt him, even if there's a chance Sam could pull a fast one on him and slice his throat. He shoved his thoughts aside as an intruding voice instructed him to calm down and that Sam was fine.
He didn't believe that part, so he made his way to the front door. It was eerily silent, and that troubled him greatly. Complete silence was never good in his opinion, and he took two steps back. He smashed into the door; it burst open as he stumbled in, gun at the ready. "Alright, you son of a bitch, who's first?" He had the gun pointed in the direction of five older people, who merely blinked at him.
"Dean, what are you doing?"
"I, uhm…"
Sam pushed the gun down, and Dean hid it behind his back. The younger one put up his hands. "I'm so sorry… My brother's just really into cop shows." He gave Dean a look that instructed him to play along.
"Uh, yeah, who ya gunna call?" Dean paused. Wrong thing. It's been awhile since he had seen any tv, let alone watching one. "The police that's what, yup." Just not now. He raked his brain for a cop show reference, and he said the first thing that came to mind. "Bad boys what you gonna do when we come for you?"
Sam looked ready to facepalm himself, but instead, he offered to fix the door, which one of the ladies shook her head and told him it was fine. They were going to get it replaced tomorrow anyway since it had been sticking.
"Well, it ain't now-"
"Dean!"
"Sorry ladies." He had slipped his gun into its holster, so he placed his hands in his pockets, presenting them with a strained grin.
Someone cleared their throat, and Dean looked over at them. "And?"
And what? Dean was confused, so his eyes flickered to Sam and back to the person. "And dude…?"
The person nodded.
. . . .
They made it out to the car, barely, because Sam was pulling the "What the Hell, Dean?" card, and Dean kept rolling his eyes at his statements. "How is it my fault that I thought he was a she?" He questioned with a glare.
"That's not the point, Dean."
He forgot how bitchy his younger brother could be. "Then what is it, Sam?" He put emphasis on his name, unintentionally. "Because you're really being a dick about the whole thing."
"You almost shot them."
"But I didn't." Dean stated, hands on the top of the roof. "So it shouldn't matter."
"You could have given them a heart attack." Sam had copied his position without realizing it.
"Literally?"
"It's possible."
"Well people die Sam, I was just saving them time."
Sam glared at him. "Okay, what the hell is your problem?"
Dean, in turn, glared back. "I'm just saying that if they're this close to whatever the town was, maybe they were affected, huh?"
"That's not what you said."
Dean abruptly opened his door. "Some things are worse than a gunshot," he muttered.
Sam's face softened a fraction. "Dean-"
"Get in the car, Sammy, or I'm leaving your ass." Of course he wouldn't leave Sam anywhere, but Sam didn't know that. Sam opened his mouth, but Dean glared more. "And drop the subject." He didn't want to talk about the apocalypse ever, especially with his younger brother. It would save him a lot of heartache. He was in the car and closed the door after him before Sam even went to open his own.
"I don't think we should drop this Dean."
"Screw you and your feelings, Sam." His face darkened. "Just get in the car."
"No, we need to talk about this."
He told his younger brother that they didn't need to talk. All they had to do was kill things and get the job done, no questions asked. That's how they always did it, and that's how Dean wanted it. He didn't want to say anything about anything. He was fine - well alive- so why did it matter? Everyone survived.
Sam instantly responded that he couldn't hold everything in all of the time, and Dean insisted that he was okay with how he dealt with things, and it worked for him, so Sam should drop it, but Sam wouldn't. He just kept pushing and pushing in the way that Sam did to Dean sometimes, and finally, he snapped.
"I haven't needed your help or anyone's help for years, Sam. I'm handling it perfectly fine, so get off me okay?"
"So that's why you nearly attacked me this morning?"
"That's nothing you can help with-"
"Because you won't let anyone help."
"Ever think I don't want it, huh?"
"But you need it, Dean." Now Sam's voice was more gentle. "You can't just push people away all the time."
He sighed lowly. "I can if I don't trust them."
Sam remained quiet, so Dean carefully observed his face and regretted it. He looked really hurt, and it was all Dean and his big mouth's fault.
"Listen, Sam, I didn't mean any of that…" His voice trailed off, his foot seeming to be crammed down his throat. Silence filled the car until a screech sounded at Dean's door and Sam heard him swear loudly. A large truck filled with seemingly college students skidded to a halt a few yards away. Dean placed a hand on one of the marks along the whole side of his car. He opened the door and stepped out. "What the hell?" He left the door open. "Hey asshats, didn't you see the fucking car? How about you come back this way, and we'll talk for a minute." Talk wasn't what he wanted to do; he wanted to kill the twerps. The truck started backing up.
Sam went to tell him something, but he shushed the younger one, but as the truck got closer, he realized that they weren't stopping and there were a lot more than he originally thought.
"Sam, get in the car." His hand tightened on the door. "Sam, now." This time Sam obeyed, and they both leaped into the car, and Dean started it, putting it into reverse and flooring it. The truck followed them, getting closer only when Dean forced the car to spin so they were facing the direction they were heading in. He glared into the rearview mirror as the red brake lights flashed, and the truck turned around, back on their tail almost. Dean increased Baby's speed, and his eyes flashed around the darkness. There, that's what he was looking for. The car squealed around the corner to a stop, and he shoved it into reverse because he passed it. The car lurched backward as Dean shut off the lights and forced it into the place they had been before heading to Grandma's House.
He turned off the car, and both of the Winchesters waited in tense silence. The truck blasted past, but didn't turn around. It appears they gave the kids the slip. Sam was the first one to move, shifting in his seat so he could face Dean. His green eyes searched his older brother's face.
"We should go," stated Dean, and he started the car, turning on the lights, revealing a face directly at the windshield, and he automatically drove forward, and the creature rolled along the roof of the car and ended up behind them.
Up on the road, they turned in their seats as Sam asked. "What the hell was that?" Dean maneuvered the car so the lights were somewhat focused on the figure, but he would be able to leave if needed. They watched the figure rise and twitch violently, back hair concealing its face. The figure was dressed in white, which was as dirty as Dean's clothes had been before he woke up in that comfortable bed, which he wouldn't be able to make it back to tonight. He moved the shifter in reverse as a noise echoed through the night from the creature, and then, it darted toward the car at amazing speed, slamming into Sam's door, sending the car flying across the road, and when Dean managed to get the big tank in control, he sped backwards, watching as the thing almost keep pace with them.
Sam yelled out. "Dean!" The creature smashed into the front, hitting more to the right side, so the car spun.
Dean struggled to get it under control again, but the creature collided with the car another time, causing it to head off the road; it became airborne. "Hold on, Sammy." His hand grabbed hold of his brother's shoulder because neither one of them had their seatbelts on, and he didn't want to chance that Sam would shoot through the window. They both braced themselves on the dash, and they saw the water at the bottom of the hill behind a large tree. Dean lurched forward when they hit the tree, smashing his forehead against the steering wheel.
He lost consciousness for a few moments, and he could have sworn he felt hands pulling him by the collar, toward the shattered window, but he was released. When he finally got his bearings, he looked over to Sam, who was covered with glass and shaking. "D-Dean?"
Dean put his feet out wide so he didn't rock the car too much, making his way toward his young brother. "It's alright, Sammy." He placed a hand over the other's bloody hands. "We've made it through worse than this, right?" Sam nodded, and Dean nodded back once. "Do we have a flashlight somewhere here?" He released Sam, who opened the glove compartment, red smears covering parts of it. It sickened him that he let his brother get hurt again. He hid his annoyance at himself by taking the flashlight, and he looked for a moment then clicked on the button that turned it on. First, he checked over Sam's injuries and deemed him pretty much fine. "Alright, let's see where it went," he mumbled to himself, flicking the flashlight to each side.
"Is it gone?"
"Don't know." Then, he felt something. It felt like breath on his neck, and he whipped himself around and came face-to-face with pale-gray skin and milky white eyes. It hissed and scrambled out of the car. He turned his eyes to Sam, whose eyes revealed all the worry he was feeling. "Don't worry, we'll just stay inside the car, and flash that bitch when she comes a' knocking." He turned the light as a shadow crept near Sam's window. A hiss was the only thing they heard this time. They didn't see her at all. Dean wasn't sure if he liked that. He continuously swirled the flashlight beam around, enough that Sam said something about it.
Dean shrugged. It was this or meeting whatever it was. Sam patted his pockets for his phone.
"What are you doing, calling for help?"
"Yeah, I'm going to try to get ahold of Garth."
Dean bristled some. "Who the hell is Garth?"
"The new Bobby?"
What - what happened to Bobby? He grew cold. He died in this time, too. There wasn't any way to save the old grouch? He couldn't dwell on those questions because Sam asked him where his phone was.
"Mine's almost dead," he explained.
"I…" Dean paused. "What phone?" They didn't have phones in the apocalypse, heck they didn't really have walkie talkies all that much either.
"The one that was in your room. Come on, please tell you didn't leave it."
"Oh, okay then I won't."
"Dean," Sam groaned. "I think I can make one short call."
"Well do it." Dean heard scratching on the dirt beside his head, and he turned the light, shining the creature in the face, and it hissed.
"I don't have service."
"Fuck," growled Dean. "We'll have to get outside the car." He moved the light over his brother, and he saw the creature's hands making their way toward Sam. He jumped over to the window, which startled the creature, who darted to the back of the car. The two Winchesters kept an eye on it, and it just stared at the ground, twitching. It climbed on the trunk, jostling the car, and it crept toward them, all the while the light was on it. Dean faked a jump at it, and it hissed and dove outside the car. "See that, Sammy, even the monsters know when to back down."
Sam almost rolled his eyes, but instead, he moved toward the door. Dean went closer so that when they got out, they did it pretty much together. Dean prodded Sam toward two medium trees that were side by side, so that they had cover on their back. They both heard something running in the night, but Dean couldn't pinpoint where exactly until a grunt from Sam came from behind him and wheezing sounded a bit afterward. Dean swirled around, blinding the creature, who hissed and dropped Sam to his feet. Dean was at his side in a matter of seconds. "I-I'm fine, Dean. It just got me from between the trees. I didn't expect it." He coughed. Then, his eyes widened. "Dean."
Dean turned where Sammy was looking, and he brought the light over the creature, who skidded to a stop yards away from them. It twitched once, hissing loudly. He faked a jump at the creature, but it didn't move. He raised a brow at it as he took a step forward. It merely stayed put. After another step, it made another noise and rushed at him. He had already had his hand at his blade, so when it came at him, he swiped at it. It was so fast that it was behind him. "Get someone on the phone, I'll take care of Grudgy over here." He caught the creature in the back, and he leaped out of reach. "Come and get me, you wannabe zombie." He stumbled back up the hill to try to get away, but it easily caught him and threw him across the ground.
He grunted, laying on his stomach, and he pushed himself off the ground, but he was soon flying through the air again, this time landing on the car then falling off to land next to the back bumper.
"Hurry up, Sam!" He grunted out through his teeth. He lost the flashlight, as well as his blade, somewhere, but he couldn't think about that because hands forcibly grabbed hold of him and slammed him down over and over on the trunk. Let's say it was hard enough that the trunk cracked open the first hit. He hit again, eyes catching the glint of the weapons. This is gonna hurt, he thought, but whatever. Screw this thing, he was going to do it. He kicked the thing with all his might, sending the thing back a few feet.
Even though it wasn't far, it gave the desired response. It dropped him, and as he fell, he slipped an arm into the trunk, which dented the metal when he hit, and he grinded his teeth. He was going to feel that for awhile. He moved up to his feet just as the creature made that loud noise, and it sped his way, mouth open in a scream almost.
"You got a perdy mouth, but I'm not going to miss it." He swung, the weapon shattered and both flew sideways, Dean ended up on rolling onto the roof of the car. He managed to come to a halt before he went over into the water. The car complained, making Dean narrow his eyes. He wished that he could pull the car out, but he knew that was impossible. He turned his head to where Sam was, and what he saw made Dean nearly throw up. The creature had its hands all over Sam, who was struggling against the things strength. "Hey, you, yeah you, ugly. Hands off." He jumped across the car, and the creature threw Sam to the side, who smacked his head off a rock and began to roll down the hill. Dean narrowed his eyes, took out his gun, and shot it right in the middle of the forehead. He didn't give it time to come after him, and he skidded after Sam.
By its hissing, Dean knew it was still alive. He caught Sam before he reached the edge of the water, but he was up to water to the middle of his shins. He pulled his brother's arm over his shoulder and said his name to get his attention, but he was pretty much unresponsive, so Dean just supported the weight, hurrying up the hill. He couldn't hear the thing hissing, so he had no idea where it was until it was much too late. In fact, he only knew something was there because he heard Sam stammer out, "wa-watch out!"
The force in which it hit them with led them to end up on the other side of the street, his gun sliding all the way down the road almost. He was on his side, reaching for his gun, even if he knew that he would never reach it in time. He turned his head as he saw white lights coming from behind him. That's all he remembered, that and the creature approaching ever so slowly, dragging out the torture.
Then, his eyes opened, and it was daylight again. He lifted his cheek from the asphalt with one closed eye and a terrible headache. He looked around, and he noticed a 18 wheeler parked inches from his feet, and the driver's door opened. "Hey, ya'll alright?"
Ya'll? He pulled himself into a sitting position. He swayed.
"Easy now… at least you seem more responsive than your friend is."
Friend? "Oh shit." He scrambled up to his feet, regretting it as he was wrapped in tremendous pain. His eyes locked onto Sam's motionless body. He hid his limp the best he could as he made his way over. It was far too long to take for him though, for everyone else it would be pretty fast concerning what he had just been through. He checked his brother's pulse, and when he found it, he pulled the taller one up to his feet, slinging his arm over his own shoulders. He went over to the driver. "Can you take us to the hospital?" He practically spit out. If he said no, then Dean couldn't be responsible for his actions.
"Well, sure thing. I'm heading on South, so I'll drop you off. It's the closest ya can get to-"
"Yeah, whatever, thanks." He went to the side door and opened it. Shifting Sam's weight slightly, he forced the door all the way open.
"So if ya don't mind me askin' what's the story?"
"What story?" Dean eyed him, pausing from lifting Sam into the cab. "About the crash?"
"Nah, I was just wondering how you two-"
"You know we're brothers right?" He heaved up Sam, placing him in the middle.
"Oh, I'm sorry, it just…"
Really that's what he asks? Dean grumbled to himself. "Whatever, man, can we just go?" He said. However, he hesitated briefly, and he walked across the road, but his brows scrunched together. Where the hell did it go? The car was missing and so was everything else. Okay, he understood if the small things were all missing, but the car? Really? Wait, he thought he saw something. He went down the hill sideways almost until he reached the object. After he dug it out of the ground some, he wiped it off. It was Sam's phone. He checked the battery level. Just like Sam said, a call oughta do it, so he turned it off to conserve battery as much as possible.
"Ey kid, Imma be late if ya keep sticking 'round here, and your brother doesn't seem too healthy."
Dean steeled himself away and made the slow ascent and walk to the truck. He hopped in, bringing Sam more toward the middle so the driver could, well, drive easier without Sam being a hinderance. It took them around half an hour, and with each second passing, Dean began to fidget more, and after just a few minutes, Dean knew the driver could sense his anxiety, but he didn't say a word. No one did for the entire ride until they pulled into the hospital's parking lot.
After Sam and Dean got out, so after Dean jumped down from the truck, Sam followed when he pulled the unconscious one from the cab, Dean tilted his head in a thank you, which was returned with almost like a get well free card. Dean guessed that the man read that off a postcard. He means seriously? He just shook his head and carried his brother all the way to the front desk.
"He needs a doctor, right away," was all he said to the lady, who took in their appearance and nodded enthusiastically.
"R-Right away, sir."
They took Sam off his hands, more like tore Sam from his shoulder because… trust issues that's why. He stared after Sam for at least five minutes until he decided that he should sit down, but he was prevented in doing so. Apparently they wanted him checked too. He would have objected if he didn't see how one of those security officers were eyeing him a little too much for comfort. He tried to ignore the look and follow after the nurse to his room, and since he wasn't too injured, he wasn't even on the same floor as Sam. He was wondering if Sam was going to make it the whole time.
. . . .
His nurse looked over at him as she finished checking his blood pressure.
"Hey, name's Dean." He gave her one of his brightest smiles, which made her blush red. "You new here?" She nodded her head, and Dean tilted his head a bit. "Could have fooled me."
They got talking for a bit, and per usual, Dean was flirting with expertise. Just before he got her number, the doctor arrived and shooed her out. With a wink from Dean, she smiled and left the room.
"Cute, guess I know why you keep her around, Doc."
The doctor's mouth twitched in anger. "I'm not sure what you're hinting at Mister…" He glanced at the clipboard in his hands. "... Mr. Singer, but I only employ the best around."
Dean put his elbows on his knees. "Alright, whatever you say there doc." They both stared at one another, the Doctor becoming increasingly enraged and Dean just smiling like he wasn't doing anything. "So, eh, what's up doc?" He shifted so he was sitting up straighter. "Clear to go?"
"No, both of you need to remain the night. Your brother will probably have to stay longer."
"Why?" He raised one brow. He understood that Sam would need a longer stay than himself, but why did he need to stay?
"Well, first of all, your brother is in critical condition, and we're unsure if he'll survive tomorrow. He is very ill and badly injured."
That made his insides slow to a crawl. What? He tried to ask, but his mouth was clamped shut. Sam couldn't die… Dean's head was swimming, so he really wasn't paying attention.
"As for you, I'm quite concerned as well. It seems that you have constant injuries that were left unmended by a professional. Also, you have wounds that would have left most dead a long time ago." He grabbed hold of the x-rays from his clipboard, placing it up and turning on the light so Dean could see it. "There's at least three critical wounds, here, here, and here. Then, there's…" His voice continued to drone on and on.
Dean wasn't listening at all. Sam could die tomorrow, and Dean had been such a dick to him. Now he felt he deserved all those hits that the creature dished out and then some. He had it coming if he couldn't be there for ones he loved, which was only Sam that was alive at the moment, and he might as well as helped kill Sam. He hadn't been paying enough attention to where the thing was, and he didn't keep an eye out for his little brother, and being alone for the most part in the apocalypse was no excuse. He clasped his hands together, placing his thumbs in between his eyebrows. The doctor's voice went on, explaining injuries and whatnot that didn't matter to him at all.
"You are very lucky, Dean Singer." The doctor finished, turning to his patient, who removed his hands from his face with a blank expression that actually unnerved the Doctor.
"Lucky," he echoed. "If that's what you call it." Dean stated lowly.
The doctor's eyes betrayed his thoughts, making Dean turn away and glance out the window. It was obvious the doctor was perhaps thinking Dean caused this to himself or maybe Sam was to blame, but it would never be that kid. The true Sam wouldn't cause Dean so much harm unless he deserved it, and even then he might not do anything. But he felt like he deserved it.
He turned his eyes back at the doctor. "Hey, you have a laptop I can borrow?"
(Next time: Take Me Away From All This)