You ain't gonna like this; it's kinda different from Chapter 1, kinda more fast paced, ya know? But idk, just had to add this to chapter 1. So sorry for any grammar/spelling mistake you're gonna fine. Tell me about it and I'll fix it. Tnx!
Enjoy...
"So, we go back, torch his bones and he'll stop throwing people down the slope?"
"Basically, yeah."
"Oh, goody."
Dean really didn't wanna go back there. That whole place… gave him the shivers. And he ain't gonna go down that hole again that's for sure. His wrist was sprained, itches like sonofabitch, wrapped up in some weird, sweaty brace that Sam magically pulled out of the First Aid kit like a freakin' rabbit. And his back, his back ain't doing so good neither. He must've bruised it somehow while he was in there; makes him walk like he's ninety-nine and without his cane or somethin'.
Sam will just have to go down there. He's handy with the lighter and salt. He'll do just fine.
-:-
Sam didn't do fine. Didn't do great neither. And awesome… yeah, he didn't do awesome either.
He did spectacularly bad.
As in fabulously bad.
The ghost pushed him down the slope. Legs first, the he did some weird spin mid air with arms flailing all over the place, rotating so that then his arms were going first, probably losing all the skin on his back.
That's gonna hurt in the mornin', Dean thought, as he watched Sam slide down hill.
"Saaaaam!"
He screamed, standing on the edge of the hill, his shotgun held strongly in his hands.
"Saaaam!"
His voice boomed through the forest.
He saw Sam stop at the foot of the incline.
"Sam, you 'kay?"
No response.
Sam was just laying there; his body sprawled on the ground like he was in bed, comfortably watching TV.
But Dean knew that his brother was fine, by the little 'fuck you' Sam pointed his way.
"Damn it…"
Well, Dean guessed, it's down the hole for him.
With Sam out of commission, the only way to help his brother is to salt 'n' burn those bones. The bones that were in the hole. The very muddy, dark, slimy, moldy hole.
"Damn it…"
He tied the rope; one end to a tree trunk, it looked strong enough to hold his weight, the other end around his waist.
His wrist was throbbing.
"Damn it…"
He needed to act fast. The ghost of the hiker was pissed off; who could blame him, really! Being murdered by your friends while on a pretense 'let's get to know each other, dude' hike… Dean would be pissed off too. Friends, his ass.
No wonder the hiker's ghost then kept on pushing people down the slope. Revenge feels good, even if it is done to innocent people, Dean guessed that was the way the hiker's mind worked now.
Well, whatever it was, he was gonna put an end to it.
Right now.
Just as soon as he'll get down that hole.
Just… any second now.
Yes sir. Any minute now.
Down that hole.
Yup.
"Damn it…"
He put his leg down the side of the hole and disappeared into it.
-:-
"Okay now, Chatty bones, you no hurty me and I'll do this nice and quick, okay?"
His left boot was stuck in the mud and Chatty bones was still laughing at him. Smirking, just like he did before.
Dean rolled his eyes and sprinkled salt all over Chatty bones.
The air became colder then. Much colder then before. He could see puffs of air coming out of his mouth.
"Damn it…"
He fumbled for his lighter, holding the flashlight in his mouth, holding the shotgun with his other hand, trying to unstuck his left leg from the mud and trying not to panic in the small space he was in with a sprained wrist and a bruised back.
This hole was Hell. Pure Hell. He could feel sweat starting to run down his back; made him shiver when cold air sneaked beneath his clothes to caress his skin.
He wasn't doing so well. But then again, what's new?
He found the lighter just in time when the bloody head of the hiker came to view.
Dean shot. No hesitation, no thinking, just pull the trigger.
The noise… almost pierced his eardrums. He yelled at the pain in his ears, stupid, shooting in such a small space.
Fuck.
He closed his eyes; needed to come back to the land of the hearing, 'coz coming back to the land of the not-hurting will probably take some more time.
He tried the lighter, praying to all that is Holy that it'll start at the first try.
It did.
Hallelujah.
The bones burned. It smelled, coz they weren't just bones, they were bones with still some flesh on 'em.
The ghost of the hiker thought, he went up in weird sparkling light. Threw red-orange-yellow sparks all around the small hole. Was kinda beautiful in a sick kinda way.
A hole in the ground… in the end, Chatty bones was dumped in a hole in the ground. So much for friendship.
Dean was thrown in a hole in the ground too. Well, he was more dragged down there, into that ice cold inferno. Hell. Hell was cold, not hot. But he got out. Chatty bones stayed in his Hell.
In a way… Dean felt sorry for the guy, a guy, he didn't remember the name of at the moment, but… man, to get murdered on a hike! By your friends, well, your supposed friends…seriously… Jesus.
People. People scare him sometimes.
He looked up. The stars were still up there. But he didn't have the time to count them, not when his little brother was laying at the bottom of the slope, in God knows what condition.
Dean just hoped Sam didn't go unconscious. Because that would really suck, what with his wrist and back being screwed up and all.
He unstuck his feet from the mud and started to climb back up. The walls were cold and damp, but the tree roots provided great support. Just as long as you didn't impale yourself on any of them, you were golden.
He breathed in and out, long pulls of air, when he stepped back onto solid ground, into open space.
He untied himself and carefully walked down the slope, grabbing a bush here, a tree branch there, some fern here and some grass there. All in the name of support and the fact that if he slipped… well, yeah… who knows what he would break next.
"Sam?"
Sam groaned and pushed himself up, clearly being awake for some time, probably just chilling and hoping that the world would stop spinning already.
"m fine."
"You sure? You look a bit… pale there."
Dean didn't jump away fast enough and his muddy boots were hit with Sam's breakfast, lunch and dinner and coffee on the side.
"Ugh, man."
"Soooooorry."
"Yeah, 's fine." But it really wasn't because the stench, oh dear Lord, the stench.
"Can you get up? Come on, get up."
He hauled his brother up on his feet, his uninjured hand strong around Sam's bicep, his back protesting at the move.
"Left everything up there, can you walk up?"
Sam paled at that, but really, there was no other choice: "Yeah, okay, yeah…"
Sam looked like some walking up steep terrain and some mountain fresh air helped him to get his bearings back, because when they got on top, he looked fine. A bit dirty and green around the edges, but fine.
"You got him?"
"Got him."
"Good."
"Yup," he picked up the shotgun, left the rope for Sam to fold, "it's taken care of."
"You went down there?"
Dean looked at Sam, who was leaning over the hole's edge.
"Yup."
"Weren't scared?"
Sam teased.
"Pft, no. What the hell?"
Hell if he's gonna let his little brother tease him about being scared of a little hole.
Even if the little hole was almost like Hell.
The End.