SEVEN
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Warning: F-bombs ahead!
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Something sharp pounded at Dean's back. He was hurled to the floor. "Argh! Sam! Keep them off Lily!"
Sounds of a one-sided scuffle made Sam and John stop dead.
"No! You're hurting him!" Lily wailed. "Stop it!"
"Will someone get these friggin' faeries off me!" Dean raged.
Sam reached down, trying to find him by voice. His hands encountered a myriad of tiny blades. He gasped in pain as they began to gnaw at his fingers. He grabbed. Small, squishy warm bundles of movement writhed in his hands as he ripped them away from his brother. He threw and refilled his hands. "John!" he called. "Do something! Magic - or - I don't know - something!"
"There's no magic in No Man's Land," John snapped.
"Is there fire?" Dean shouted in anger.
"Anyone else got a lighter? I'm out of fluid," John said. Something brushed Sam's arm and the taller Winchester realised John was also tearing tiny biters from his brother.
"They just keep coming back!" Sam realised. He pulled the silver knife from his pocket and began chopping at whatever was poking out of his hands. Diminutive screams cut the growling scuffle on the floor.
"Just get me up!" Dean raged. "We gotta run!"
Sam grabbed for him. Dean felt two sets of hands round his arms. He half-struggled, was half-lifted to his feet. Something warm and sticky ran into his eye.
"Go!" John hurled. "Just run until it gets light - we have to cross the border somewhere!"
"What if we're going in circles?" Lily asked.
"Nah - we know where we're going, love," John said in a surprisingly reassuring tone. He shoved on Dean's back. He didn't need telling twice. He took off as fast as he could. "Sam, go," John said in the pitch black. "Follow the noise. I'll be right behind you."
"Sure?"
"Don't lose them."
Sam turned and ran, calling for his brother.
John turned in the darkness. He felt the small rabid bites of angry faeries at his neck, his face, his hands. "Now, you little shits," he sneered. "Want blood, do you?"
He pulled off his raincoat and felt around the floor, locating Sam's fallen knife. He lifted it and slid the blade down his forearm. He felt the blood spill and grinned, as abruptly the nibbling all around him ceased. Instead he felt the gentle touch of tiny wings and feet, as the faeries congregated, all jostling for position on his arm, his rolled up sleeve, the shirt over his chest. They reached, they squabbled, they pushed and shoved each other in their desire to be the first to taste human.
"Well go on then," he said, his grin and tone malicious. "You can have it, free of charge. I dare you."
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ooOoo
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Dean ran and ran. He felt his brother's hand on his back, as if to somehow keep him upright as they pounded along.
Suddenly there were no more nicks or cuts to his face, his cheek, the back of his hand to Lily's head. "They're leaving!"
"Maybe we're close to the edge," Sam puffed.
Lily held on tight. "Please keep running!"
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ooOoo
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The first feel of miniature jaws clamping on the cut made John jump and hiss. But his face soon melted back into an evil sneer. "And… wait for it…"
An unholy scream went up around him. Faeries convulsed and wailed. He felt the tiny touches leaving his skin. He began to laugh.
Voices whispered at him from below, from close to his head, from every patch of darkness.
"We'll kill you."
"We won't let you leave."
"Your tainted blood can't harm us."
"We will feast on you."
"The child will be ours."
John felt something wriggle under his trouser leg and bite down on his skin. He cursed and shook his foot. It fell away. He bent over to listen. And then he lifted his boot and slammed it down.
A splat and a scream echoed around him.
"You killed our sister."
"You will die."
"You are known to us, John Constantine, forever and always."
"Yeah? Well know this." He began to slap at the bites against his skin. More faeries fell away - only to be replaced. "You're not getting her." He felt the wings multiplying, felt the beating of them against every part of him as they swarmed.
Completely covered, he realised his ears, his nose, were blocked. Something bit down on his lip, clamping it shut. More bites followed in a line until his ability to breathe was stolen from him.
"Now we bring our guardians."
"They will make you suffer."
He struggled and flailed, trying to breathe. He ran.
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ooOoo
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Dean felt his chest start to burn. He did not stop running. Sam pushed on his back.
Abruptly, so sharply, it was light. Dean skidded to a stop, hauling in air. "Sam!" he managed, turning to look behind him. "John!"
No Sam. No John. Only a thin green line floated at knee height.
"Dean?" came Sam's voice.
Dean looked around at the beautiful sunny field surrounding them. The sun shone, the leaves on the trees waved lazily in the breeze, and birds coursed overhead. "I'm outside, man! Lily's safe!" he cried. "Where are you?"
"I must be like a step away," was the reply.
"I can't see you!"
"I'm still in the dark."
"Then get out here! Now!" Dean raged.
"I can hear something - it sounds like—." Sam's voice stopped.
Dean let Lily down to the grass. She clamped her hand around his. Dean looked down at her. "You're ok, Lily. We're alright," he panted. He looked up again. "Sam?" There was no answer. "Saaauuummm!"
"I'm going back for John!"
"With what? You need fire or something to stop them attacking!" Dean shouted. "You don't have anything!"
Lily tugged on Dean's hand. "Look," she said urgently, pulling harder. "Look!"
"Lily, sweetheart, we're a bit busy thinkin' right now," Dean said.
She pulled again. "But there's a car over there - people!"
Dean halted abruptly. "Sam - don't move," he ordered. "I'll get you some fire."
"What?" was Sam's bodiless reply.
Dean crouched and looked at the small child. "Lily," he said sternly, "I need you to stand right here and not move, ok? If you move, we'll never find Sam again - or John. Do you understand me?"
"I understand," she said quietly.
"You are one smart kid, ok? You just saved this whole day."
"I did?"
"You did. Now please - stay here."
She folded her arms and sat down in the grass. "Sam?" she called.
"Yeah, Lily."
"You stay here too. Don't wander off without me or Dean."
"Absolutely, Lily," was his amused voice.
Dean was already running toward the parked car.
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ooOoo
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John desperately tried to cough - but there was no air. His lungs bursting, his eyes and ears and nose full of the battering wings of faeries, he sank to his knees. He clawed at his face, trying to pull the offending tiny people from his lips. They bit harder.
His head hit the ground. He bucked and heaved, trying to get free. His hands scrabbled weaker, ever weaker.
Until there was squealing. Everything burnt, everything screamed. Consciousness was just waving a sad farewell as his nose became unplugged. Without his guidance his chest dragged in welcome air.
His mouth opened, the bites disappearing in an instant. The screaming continued - rage, hatred, blind fury filled the darkness.
"John - you ok, man? Where are you?" said a voice.
Coughing on something wet and warm he really really hoped was his own spit - or even blood - John was unable to do anything but flop on the floor. He slapped his hand against the ground repeatedly as he tried to breathe.
A hand landed on his shoulder. "I got you, John."
"Are they—" He coughed and hacked. "Are they still here?"
"I don't think so. Now let's go before they get more angry than allergic."
A large hand wrapped round John's arm and helped him up. He felt himself dropping but then he was forced upright. Sam walked him on, one arm round his back and under his left arm, the other carrying the short tree branch that featured barely a flame above its bright red end.
"They're off getting - getting - reinforcements," John rasped.
"Yeah? Well we're not too far from the edge. They'll be too late."
The journey was interminable. A skitter to their left, a scrape and a hiss to their right - everything sounded malevolent in the pitch black.
Abruptly they saw a single, shining arm. "Sam! John!" came a squeak.
"Lily?" Sam grinned.
John balked at the sight of a seemingly dismembered arm waving in the middle of the darkness as if it were its own light source, but Sam went straight for it.
The branch leapt from his hand. It hit the ground by his feet. John stood back, shielding his eyes, as the flames grew. They blew upwards, taller than even Sam, bathing the entire area in sickly grey light.
"What the—" Sam stepped back - but through the wall of flames he caught sight of Dean. Lily was trying to see round his leg, but his hand was keeping her back.
A tickle, a press on John's shoulder. He put his hand up and moved to sweep it off.
Something hot and hard clamped on his wrist. The next second he was hoisted upward and off his feet. He gazed up at the figure holding him. His mouth fell open.
"Fuck me," he breathed in awe.
The slender, sinewy torso of some kind of tree-woman swayed as the arm lifted him higher. Her wooden face was perfectly smooth - until she began to hiss and grin an evil precursor to murder. It splintered and cracked to let out long, shiny wooden teeth.
"Wait - I had that backwards," John said. "What was I meant was fuck you." He swung his feet back and then slammed them into her waist.
She dropped him, hissing. It was then that he realised the grey light was bleeding outwards, caused by the flames sheeting higher. He scrabbled to his feet and put a hand behind him to grab Sam's arm. He was already turning, making sure the two men's backs were together.
They stared at the circle of wooden women surrounding them.
"What the hell are they?" Sam whispered.
"Nymphs," John said. Sam twisted to look down at him over his shoulder. John noticed and looked up at him. "Yeah. The legends lie. Beautiful, yeah. Want to shag you? No. More like break you up for something soft to sleep on. Or in."
"Sam! John!" came Dean's voice.
They did not dare look in the direction of the flames. "What?" Sam called back.
"What are you waiting for?" Dean called.
"We're kind of stuck!" Sam shouted. "Nymphs!" Then his face crumbled in abrupt self-kickery and he looked at his feet. "Oh no. I didn't."
"What?" John asked, turning to see a tall, light-coloured tree-woman slide a little closer to him.
"Wait for it," Sam sighed.
Dean came crashing through the flames. His jump took him skidding to a halt in between John and the grinning nymph. "Holy crap!" he blurted. His boots shuffled back hastily. "That ain't what I pictured!"
"Where's Lily?" John demanded, his eyes on the nymph.
"She's keeping the door open," Dean said. He put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a long, wide blade that shone rather dully in the grey light. "Who's for party favours?" he asked. Sam took it from him and Dean felt through his jacket for the other one. He turned it and proffered the grip to John.
"Machetes?" He grinned. "I love that you just have them on you, like it's nothing."
"Take it," Dean urged. "First woman that moves - do a little pruning."
John's hand closed around it slowly as he looked at the long blade. "What about you?"
Dean spun back to look at the nearest woman. "I'll improvise." He took a step forward. "Ok, ladies," he grinned. He clapped his hands together, rubbing. "We ain't letting you past us, and you ain't in the mood to let us go." He paused. "So who's first?"
The thicker tree-person to his right shot forward. As Sam and John raised their machetes, whirling and slicing at attackers, Dean grabbed. His hands captured an arm. He let out an angry shout as he yanked and jerked.
A splintering sound nearly made everyone stop. A scream, a flicker of the flames - but Dean had a long wooden arm in his hands. He blinked at it in surprise. Then he stepped right into the fray. He swung the deadened arm like a club.
Sam hacked off an arm, a head, fingers. The flames flickered and danced. The grey light sucked the colour from everything - even the blood from the scrapes to their faces. John's blade sunk into a torso. Only a shockingly filthy curse and a shoe well placed against the chest sucked it free. He whirled and chopped, with far less grace than Sam but possibly more anger.
Dean's makeshift club was doing him proud as it smashed into heads and arms. It went into a shoulder so hard that the owner was flung out of the circle of grey light. She disappeared into the darkness, swallowed up by the pitch.
More replaced her. As Sam and John stayed back to back, hacking and slicing like spinning tops on steroids, Dean simply waded in and bashed at everything standing. Something grabbed; he head-butted. A hand caught at his shoulder; he elbowed it off and pummelled the club into her.
"I know now is not the time," John called over the hack-and-slash din, "but your brother has some pretty serious anger issues!"
Sam swung low and chopped a torso nearly in half. "I wish that's all it was!"
"What?"
"Hit someone!"
John put his back into the next slice. The woman splintered as she stumbled back. Her upper body lost balance and he watched in horror as it fell backwards. She was peeled in half, wicked strips of tortured wood sticking up like stalagmites. Some sound pulled for his attention, something small and buzzing and ferocious.
"Oh buggering hell!" he growled. "The bloody faeries are back!"
"How do we get out?" Sam called.
"Put out the fire!" John said as he swiped for a wooden hand. "We need to be out before it goes completely out."
"I'll cover you - you find a way to put it out!"
"And when I do, you make Dean give up the fight," John said. "I'm not going near him till he puts that arm down."
"I won't stop him kicking your ass for taking our book and delaying us!" Sam warned.
"I've already given it back, Sam!" John cried in protest. "I was always going to give it back."
Sam took the machete from him. "Just get us out of here."
John crouched by the flames. He put a hand closer, closer, closer - and then thrust it right in. "Cheating bastards!" he blurted. "It's magic fire!"
"I thought you said magic didn't work in No Man's Land!" Sam raged as he chopped.
"It's not supposed to!"
"Get that fire out!"
John looked around the floor. He spotted his raincoat down by Dean's right boot. He scrabbled across the ground on his hands and knees, pushing through wooden legs and ankles, knocking aside knees. Something snatched at his hair and wrenched him up on his knees. He grabbed for the hands to somehow get them off.
A tremendous wallop whooshed so close to his hands that he froze in fear. The next second his head was free. He glanced up and saw Dean and his club turn away from him. He sank gratefully to the ground and reached for the coat. Hurrying back through the melée to the fire, he dropped to his knees with the trenchcoat.
"Do me a favour," he said. "Just don't burn, mate. If anything happens to you I'll never forgive myself."
He flung the coat over the still burning branch on the floor. The grey light began to fade.
"Now, Sam! Now! Get out before the light goes!"
Sam didn't think. He simply reached out and grabbed Dean's shoulder. The eldest Winchester was still swinging as Sam yanked him backwards to the dying flames.
John watched them reach the magical fire. Dean pushed Sam through. Then he turned and raised the club. He swung it with all his strength at John's head.
John ducked in fear of his life to hear something wooden right behind him smash so hard it splintered. He grabbed the sleeve of his trenchcoat. He dug his heels into the floor and hurled himself headfirst into Dean's stomach.
The two of them flew off their feet directly into the portal.
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