Previously: In an unusual serendipitous moment, Dean's wish was granted as a thunderous crash resonated throughout the apartment, shaking it to its very foundations. Dean's body tensed further under the vibrating onslaught, which was followed almost immediately by a second impact. This one, it seemed, was successful as it was accompanied by a whip-like crack at the end and a terrified scream from the vicinity of the bedroom.
Chapter 10: You Ought to Know Better
Still trapped by the lingering vestiges of pain coursing through his body, Dean could only watch as Sam dropped the towel he'd been holding and sprinted for the bedroom, hand reaching for the gun tucked into his waistband as he went. The pleading tone in the feminine voice hung in the air like a death toll, calling to the boys like a Siren as it spurred their protective impulses into overdrive. Too far, Dean thought dimly in his mind as his big brother instincts screamed at Sam to be careful. You'd better not get yourself killed, Sammy, Dean swore as he fought for control of his body, or I'll kick your ass.
By the time the white cloth had settled on the floor, Dean propelled himself into motion, the thought that his brother was heading into an unknown situation without him finally overriding the pain he was feeling. Forgetting both the painful ribs and twisted angle as adrenaline began to surge through his body, he threw himself down the hallway intent upon the bedroom door. However, at the last minute he changed directions abruptly, hand reaching out for the doorframe to swing himself into the bathroom, thereby granting him access to the bedroom's second entrance. Maybe, just maybe, he thought as he concentrated on quieting his steps, he could get a jump on whatever it was that had caused Mel to scream. And, he added a bit ruefully as he reached for the cheap, metallic door handle, provide the distraction he was sure his overly eager little brother needed.
Turning the handle carefully, Dean eased the door open and peered into the room, silently cursing the bad angle the doorway afforded him. From here, he could see a large, gaping hole where the wall connected to the adjacent apartment had been plowed through. Splintered wood and plaster created a ragged edge, and the tinge of red he could see on several of the large fragments indicated that whatever had come through, it had not entered unscathed. The gap revealed an empty, dark space beyond—an empty apartment, thank God—although Dean had a hard time seeing it because of the imposing figure standing in way, framed in darkness like a demonic angel.
Resisting the urge to close his eyes in pained regret, and aided by years of training to never take his eyes off a dangerous target, Dean pulled out his own weapon as he watched Mac's face twist itself into a terrifying, cold grin that looked completely wrong on the strong visage. Eyes as black as night, the demon wearing the former diner owner was completely focused on something just out of Dean's range of vision, the wall separating the sink-and-closet area he was currently in from the rest of the bedroom blocking his view. Even without a direct line of sight, however, he could sense his brother in the other section of the room—probably where he'd charged right in—and he just knew that he was standing in front of Mel in a defensive stance. In the far corner, he guessed, which would put as much distance as possible between the two humans and the demon currently facing them. It was also, Dean knew, within reach of both the salt on the windowsill and the bag of equipment that had been left—foolishly, now that he thought about it, cursing himself as he did so for such a careless maneuver—behind in favor of exploring the apartment and then eating breakfast.
"Who are you?" came Sam's voice from the main portion of the room as Dean brought his gun up to bear and tried to come up with a plan. Keep him talking, Sammy. "What do you want with us?"
The Mac-look-alike laughed humorously, voice pitching up higher than the voice Dean dimly remembered from the day before. "You're seriously asking me that? After everything you and your family have done, you're actually shocked that we're coming after you?"
There was a shuffling sound, followed by a muffled whimper, and Dean could imagine Mel reacting to the sound of her friend's voice, the pang of regret he felt sharpening before he ruthlessly shoved it aside.
"Then it's me and my brother you're after. Leave these two alone."
"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, you ought to know better by now. They got in the way, helped you, screwed up our plans, and I, well, I just won't have it. Ruined a perfectly good meat suit back at the diner, and just when I was getting comfortable in it, too." The dark eyes crinkled in suppressed mirth. "So fragile, humans. Even this body; so large and strong, yet so very, very fragile." Lifting a roughened hand up into the air, the demon examined its lined surface, eyeing the gashes created by the force of breaking through the wall, watching with a morbidly fascinated glance as dark droplets ran down the exposed forearm into the rolled up cuffs of the plaid flannel shirt. "The slightest provocation and you leak like a sieve. I can already feel this suit rotting around me."
For a moment, there was silence, and Dean watched the gruesome smile slide off the demon's face in conjunction with a creaking of the floor from the other portion of the room, light enough that he knew it wasn't Sam shifting his weight. Wishing, and not for the first time, that he had x-ray vision, he could only imagine what was going on, so when the emotionally thick voice of Mel spoke a moment later, coming from a slightly different position than he'd heard her initial pained sounds, he silently cursed his lack of awareness.
"You evil son of a bitch," she said lowly, the words forced from tight vocal chords. "Mac is a good person."
"Mac's pathetic," said man's voice shot back. "He's in here screaming right now, begging me to let him go. Even offering you up as a replacement, women being my preferred packaging and all. Doing everything he can to save his own skin. Why he's…"
The slight clink of glass against wood was all the warning Dean had before a translucent object, the glass of water that had been resting on the nightstand when he woke up, flew at the face of the demon, flinging liquid as it went. As far as distractions went—and given the surprised expression on the demon's face, no one had seen that one coming—the set-up could not have been better, and Dean propelled himself into action, throwing himself into the room, gun raised in front of him.
Several things happened then which threw the situation into even further chaos. A deep, resonant shriek rocked the room, corresponding with another howl as a fourth figure hurtled out of the dark depths of the neighboring apartment and plowed into Dean, sending them both careening into the wall on the opposite side of the bed from Sam and a now-standing Mel, Dean noted vaguely as he flew past only to impact with a sickening thud and slide down to the floor, stars dancing before his eyes.
Simultaneously, Dean could feel his brother moving, the knowledge that Sam would not have allowed that perfect distraction to pass by deeply imbedded within his subconscious. The sounds of a fight reached his ringing ears a moment before the world focused down to his throat as two strong hands wrapped around it and began squeezing tightly, pressing down with enough force that he thought his windpipe might buckle under the strain. Pain assaulted him, demanding his full attention, and as he forced his eyes open, Dean found himself face-to-face with the demon's partner, the nervous man from the diner, whose eyes were wide, reminiscent of a psychotic Renfield.
Great, Dean thought as his hands scrambled uselessly against the leering face, seeking desperately for a weak point which would cause his assailant to lose his grip. I'm gonna get killed by the sidekick.
Darkness began to encroach upon his vision, swirling in like grey storm clouds from the edges, and as his protests weakened and his eyes began to roll back in his head, he almost missed the blurry figure rise up behind his attacker and bring an equally blurry object down squarely on his head. In and of itself doing little damage, the handful of stinging white pellets which immediately followed had a more immediate reaction as the threatening hands immediately disappeared and sweet oxygen flooded Dean's lungs, his own gasping breaths and pounding heart blocking out any other sounds.
Reflexively, he rolled away, ending up braced against the wall in an effort to support his battered form, and the movement saved his life as a pointed boot cracked into the plaster where his head had been only a moment before, the suit-clad leg not three inches from his nose.
Shocked into action by the narrow escape and years of training and conditioning under his father that would not be ignored, Dean threw himself into a roll which carried him up and over the bed, near the window and the bag of supplies still resting at the foot of the bed where he'd seen it that morning, a fine layer of dust and debris covering it. The spectacularly heroic motion was tainted slightly by the fact that his bad ankle buckled slightly under the sudden pressure, throwing him off balance and onto his knees, but image wasn't as important as results, and the nearness to the ground actually worked in his favor as his hands dove for weapons of any kind.
Having landed with his back to the window, Dean's automatic search—the intimate knowledge he had of the bag's contents allowing him to freedom to take in his surroundings—saw him focusing on his little brother in a tangled mass of pride and horror. Not quite in a chokehold grip, Sam's longer reach and the wooden cross he currently had pressed against the Mac-look-alike's cheek holding the demon at bay, the youngest Winchester was forcing rough Latin words out of his compressed throat. Even in such a tense situation, steel trap that was Sam's mind could conjure an exorcism at will.
Motion to the left drew Dean's attention away, and he swung the shotgun he had just laid his hands on up in one swift motion even as he himself rose, pulling the trigger as the second demon staggered to its feet and headed toward Sam's unprotected back. Rock salt shot through the air, peppering the wall behind the demon as well as liberally impacting his right side, swinging the body around in an arch which carried it nearly to the bedroom door.
Firing a second time, Dean considered going after it only to dismiss the demon in favor of helping his brother, who was also blocking his way around the bed, the cramped quarters they were operating in finally making themselves know. He raised the gun to fire again, this time at the Mac-look-alike but stopped at the thought that some stray rounds might hit Sam. Stepping closer, he thrust the end of the gun at Mac's side, finger tightening as another blur threw itself at his arm, throwing the shot wide as Mel pushed frantically at him, pleading face—stained with tears and blood—mouthing nonsensical appeals at him that he only half heard as his eyes remained locked on his brother's steadily reddening face.
"Get out of the way!" he yelled as he shoved her away with his left arm, causing her to fall backwards onto bed, even as he pushed himself forward toward Sam once more, gun swinging up once again.
Dimly, he was aware of Sam's continued litany and Mel's desperate pleas as the thundering roar in his ears grew louder, fueled by the chaos. The gun seemed to weight more than normal, yet it moved just as effortlessly as always—if only a bit more slowly, as though the entire world had slowed down, a child with a universal remote who'd pressed the wrong button and had reduced reality to half-speed.
Feeling the gun strike the demon's side, Dean focused on Sam's words as much as he was able, trying to figure out where he was in the exorcism ritual. If he was close to finishing, he might not need to shoot the man, the close range of the shot promising to be quite painful and fairly dangerous to the host. At the same time, however, a part of him was screaming at him not to hesitate, to take out the demon while he had the chance. The other one wasn't completely taken care of yet, either, and could enter back into the fray at any moment, and Dean knew that this internal struggle, lasting in actuality only a fraction of a second, would likely turn around and bite him in the ass if he didn't act now.
Again, Dean's finger tightened on the trigger of the gun, testing its tension, and just as he felt himself reach the point of no return, twin wails assaulted the air as two black clouds rose up to the ceiling, coiling around each other like writhing snakes. A brilliant orange flame engulfed them, swallowing up the darkness in favor of a blinding light, before that too vanished and left the room in a deathly silence.
Mac dropped to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut, the boneless motion suggesting a complete lack of control over his body Dean was all too familiar with, and Sam wasn't far behind, although his collapse gave off at least the appearance of a controlled collapse. The motion brought his back into contact with the chest at the foot of the bed, practically at Dean's feet, and Dean breathed a mental sigh of relief as he watched the shaggy, sandy head begin a lazy scan of the room. Sammy moving meant that Sammy was okay, relatively speaking.
"You okay?" he asked in a gravelly voice, just to be sure, shoulders rising and falling with suppressed breaths as he felt his chest begin to tighten painfully. Once the adrenaline wore off, he was going to pay for all of the moving and twisting he had just done.
"Yeah," was the equally hoarse reply, and Dean allowed his left hand to fall down on his brother's head as he himself turned his eyes to the two men sprawled across the floor, red droplets beginning to stain the carpet beneath each of them.
"Yeah," Dean whispered in agreement.
Alright, this turned out to be more of an action chapter than anything I've tackled this far, and I'm curious about your reactions to it. Parts of it don't flow as well as I'd like, so constructive feedback would be wonderful…and general support is always welcome!