Hey all!
Okay, I know, I left you with mean stuff... but now I'm back ;). With some interesting news... you should really know that.
Did you know, that, when your heart stops, there are only about 60 seconds before you stop breathing? On the other way around, when you stop breathing your heart continues up to TEN minutes with beating, before it can't take it anymore. I think a heart is really awesome. I mean... that's a hell of a long time... so... why I coming up with this??? Uhh... don't know ;), maybe because it has something to do with the story?
Silence filled the cavern, only disturbed by the harsh sound of Sam's breathing. Bobby stood, hands still on the silver-cross, slightly bend over the prone form of the youngest Winchester. His mind was in turmoil as he tried to comprehend what had happened. From the other side harsh laughter could be heard. He saw the shadowy figure of a man, holding onto the collar of Dean's shirt, keeping him upright, while his head was lolling from side to side like it was the head of a puppet. Harsh bruising already started to form on his face, his neck… one eye already swollen shut.
The beast in human form let go of his collar, not caring as Dean dropped to the ground with a loud thud, clasping its hands together.
"I've waited so long for this moment." His eyes were glowing in the dark fire of anticipation.
"You've served me good hunter…" Benjamin mocked, delving into the horrendous feeling of the older man.
"It took me long to finally realize what power the Traitors blood inhabited. My father Pastor Elkin called upon me for help. Little did he know about me, about what I would become. Pastor Elkin only saw the child and its blood… but what was about to happen to him, what would make him the traitor, he wasn't able to grasp. It was me all along I finally understood.
If Pastor Elkin wouldn't have started the hunt on the child, mankind wouldn't be deceived by young Samuel here."
Benjamin bent down to Sam, almost gently caressing his cheek. As he looked up again, Bobby launched himself at the man.
...
The first thing Dean did notice was that he couldn't breathe properly. He gagged trying to get air back into his hurting lungs and rolled his eyes at the ache raging behind his forehead, carefully lifting his head and turning it towards the sound of a struggle.
His breath caught fully as his eyes froze on his brother. He saw Sam's chest fluttering up and down, the silver-cross protruding out of his right side, just below the collarbone.
Adrenaline started to rush through his veins, as he fought himself upwards and on his feet.
Tiredly and aching he staggered over to his brother on the cold stony floor, his hands hovering over Sam's fluttering chest before gently touching it.
His brother flinched at the contact, a small cry leaving his lips as he jarred the cross sticking out of his right side.
From behind him a sickening crunch filled the cave, followed by an agonized scream. Dean only saw a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eyes. There was no time for him to think what he was doing. He grabbed for the cross, pulling in a hard yank, not noticing another scream being torn from his brother. Something sharp was slashing his back but he ignored the pain coming with it, just whirled around, pushing the cross forward, into the chest of their assailant.
He grunted and screamed hoarsely as he pushed forward, adrenaline pulsing through his body, giving him the strength he needed, as the sharp tip of the cross went deeper and deeper, the man in front of him spitting blood, drenching him in it, as he forced him back, still pushing forward until the wall of the cavern stopped him to move any further. With a final husky roar he managed to drill the tip of the cross deep into the wall, then he fell to his knees, dragging in deep breaths in an attempt to get oxygen into his starving lungs. He could only hear the loud roar of his blood rushing through his body and the hard beat of his heart, as he continued to wheeze.
The man stood, unmoving, impaled with the silver-cross, eyes slightly open, staring unseen, blood spilling from his nose and mouth, dripping on Dean and the floor.
Dean's head dropped, as the rush of adrenaline and fury left his body, suddenly everything ached. He shuddered as he felt the wetness running down his back, the need to just lay down so overwhelming.
He first thought he imagined the movement of the legs in front of him. It nearly cost him his life.
He flung backwards, just avoiding the foot aimed at his neck by millimetres. The fall however almost robbed him his consciousness.
He lay there, dazed watching in amazement and horror, as the figure he had impaled only seconds before, grabbed the cross with both hands and yanked at it, the eyes burning with a feral fire. The cross fell with a clatter as the man had freed himself and took the first step up to Dean, his face a grotesque mask of ferocity.
"That was your last mistake, Dean Winchester!" the words tumbled from the man's mouth in a wet gargle. Dean worked himself into a position so he could scramble backwards as the man advanced. A hard, strong hand, slicked with blood shot out, ignoring his feeble attempts to fight it off, as it wrapped around his already hurt windpipe and started to squish the air out of him.
He felt being lifted upwards, his vision already starting to get blurry his attempts on taking in a breath futile. Darkness descended upon him, while his suffocating lungs burned in a fierce fire. A sharp twist would have let him cried out in pain, if there would have been enough air to do so. The last thing he felt was the wind around his body as he fell, and fell, and fell… then there was nothing anymore.
No pain, no hurt, no coherent thought. Only darkness.
To be continued...
Well? Criticism? Comments? Suggestions?