TAINTED BLOOD
By: Karen B.
Chapter Four
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Darkness ebbed away, and Dean found himself inside the empty hollow of an old stone church. The air was cool, the scene quiet, nothing daring to stir and shatter the silence. He stepped in further through a small archway that lead to a chapel. The church appeared to be long abandoned, most of the pews on either side of the long aisle, broken. Several pedestals lining the stone walls were obviously missing the precious icons that once sat reverently upon them. At the front of the room was a wooden alter. Behind that, high up on the wall, a large, round, stained glass window. The sunlight streaming through the glass sent colored shapes dancing around on the floor like a disco ball.
The glass appeared to be one of the only things in the church left unbroken. Once a motif of color, the glass now was coated with a layer of dirty film. However, Dean could still make out the depiction of a man with bleeding wounds in his hands, feet and side -- lying lifeless in his mother's arms.
Dean dropped the weapon's bag at his feet, his fear built to boiling. With a trembling hand and unwilling heart, he unsheathed the demon-killing knife hanging from his belt loop.
"Sam," Dean's voice echoed through the quiet church. He stalked toward the alter, inhaling the musty smell of the church, struggling against the screaming voice of his father's words -- loud, and painful.
'If you can't save him -- you will have to kill him.'
"Sam." Dean took in a sharp breath.
There seemed to be no one home, only a few pigeon's roosting in the rafters. Good. Angels weren't always right. Maybe during demonology class Castiel had fallen asleep. Yet, the weight of what Dean knew to be true bore down on him. His blood running cold, and the darkness he knew he'd have to face -- worse than the darkness of ten-thousand hells combined.
"A righteous man -- my Fruit of the Looms," Dean muttered under his breath. A righteous man was good, honorable, blameless, honest and upright. He was non of those things. How could he be? How could he cut his brother open -- spill Sam's blood by his own hand. Was Castiel friggin' coo-coo for demon puffs? Damn angel was crazy, belonged in a straight jacket. "Sam!" Dean called louder.
"Sam's a little busy." Came a gruff voice, the figure detaching from a dark corner of the room.
"Son of a fugly!" Dean fought the urge to shrink away from the wave of unforgiving evil coming from the creature before him.
The two legged beast was large, with two horns jutting out of the top of its deformed head. Its skin was fiery red, and the thing's eyes gleamed with blackness. Grizzly fear filled Dean's heart, and he bit back a sob. He knew his brother's soul was inside the beast. Someway, somehow, he knew. Lilith's too -- if she had a soul.
"You've been a real pain in my ass!" Dean raised the knife over his head. "You mutant freak." Dean tried to keep calm, detach from this nightmare, but he was suffocating. "Give me back my brother," he panted heavily.
"I don't think so." The creature grinned, showing a set of sharp, pearly white fangs.
"Give me back, Sam!" Aggression crept into Dean's voice. "Or you're so tofu!"
"I prefer red meat," the creature said, smugly.
"Guess I'll just have to cut all that cholesterol out," Dean growled. "One slash at a time."
"How badly do you want to do that, Dean? Drag me down, you drag Sam down, too." The demonic beast licked its lips." Make the right choice or else…"
"Dean," Sam's voice came through -- a sickening shriek. In a flash, the inhuman face was replaced by the human trapped inside. Sam's skin was ashen, his eyes only half open, and head lolling loosely back and forth. "Dean, you have to kill it."
"Sammy!" Dean instinctively shot protectively forward, but a clawed hand knocking into his shoulder seemed to sever his legs and he fell to the ground in a heap. Clutching his injured shoulder, Dean stood. "Sam, you have to fight this whacked out Frankenstein."
"I'm trying." Sam's voice was weak, his image fading.
"There is nothing your brother can do." In a blur, the fugly face was back. "Destiny can not be changed. Our blood will spill. Sam will die, and my Lord will feast upon your kind and your world." The creature took several steps, dust swirling underneath its hoofed feet as it moved. "Before there was light -- there was complete darkness. And darkness shall come again."
The creature began to chant. Dean didn't understand the words, but they sounded evil, demonic, and as ancient as the universe itself.
"I will need your help, Dean," the creature hissed.
"You are one fucked-up, bitch!" Dean yelled, pulling a flask of holy water out and splashing the liquid on the creature.
"Is that all you have?" The creature laughed, completely uneffected.
"You screwed with the wrong brother." Dean gave a warning stare. "I'll make your Lord, Lucifer, look like a kiddie ride at Disney Land."
"Sounds fun." The creature smiled, seeming to enjoy the rivalry. "Give me the knife, Dean."
"Come and get it, fido."
The creature stomped forward, it's hoof-like feet dragging along the floor. The electricity in the air caused Dean's neck and arm hairs to stand on end, and prickly fingers skittered up and down his spine. The fear almost rocked him to the ground. How was he going to kill the demonic beast and not put a hair out of place on his brother's head?
Quick as lightning, a large claw-like hand swiped out at Dean, sharp talons catching him across the ribs. The knife plummeted to the floor and Dean lay grasping his side in pain.
"Son of a…" Dean scrambled to his feet, slip-slidding on the smoothness of marble. Dropping to his knees, searching. "Rrrrr!" He growled.
The creature pulled Dean back into its grasp. "I will enjoy this, destroying you, Dean. Before I destroy your brother and all of your kind," the creature roared, yanking Dean upward, his feet swaying three inches off the ground.
"Sam!" Dean gazed up into black unholy eyes.
"Wrong." The creature grinned toothily.
"Damn it, Sam! I know you're in there!" Dean dangled helplessly at the mercy of the half-demon, half-human creature.
"Sam is my pet, now." The creature toyed with Dean, shaking him like a twig in a windstorm.
"Sam! You little bitch! Answer me when I call you!" Dean yelled, using his best authoritative tone.
A light seemed to cross the creature's face, and Dean swore he could see the hazel of his brother's eyes shining behind ebony black.
"Sam, come on man…you've got to help me fight this!"
"Brother?" The word came out the creature's mouth." D'n." The voice sounded confused, the name jumbled, but it was Sam's.
"That's my boy!" Dean yelled his excitement. "Fight! Fight your way to me."
"Can't. Dean," Sam's voice issued from the creature. "You have to… kill it," Sam said, raw and desperate.
"I won't lose you." Dean shook his head, knowing his brother was hanging on by a thumbnail.
"Dude," Sam almost sounded amused. "You lost me when that bastard, Yellow Eyes dripped blood in my mouth. This is my destin…"
"I took his soul!" The creature gasped. "You can not stop us." The face darkened once more, white fangs glistening with saliva. "Together, Sam and I will raise my Lord."
The alter ego took advantage of his prey, slinging Dean around the church and repeatedly slamming his back against the stone walls.
Dean knew one drop of blood upon holy ground, taken by the creature's own hand would release, Lucifer. Sam wasn't going to be able to fight this. He was the only one who could kill the thing. How could he? Knowing his brother was a prisoner inside the beast.
The creature gripped Dean by the throat with one hand and squeezed, very slowly. Harder and harder, pushing Dean's head back into the stone and blocking his airway -- making him dizzy.
"Sam." Dean tried to gulp in any amount of air. "There's not much time. Do you hear me? You have to find a way out of there. Follow my voice. Sammy, please!" Dean begged, the whites of his eyes turning blood red, on the edge of blacking out.
The creature's body began to twitch involuntarily, fingers weakening their hold around Dean's neck.
"Dean." Sam's voice was back, by sheer willpower alone. "Do it. Get the knife and do it, now! I can't hold… Dean! You have to!"
"Sam, I won't kill you…w-won't!" Dean choked, and his body trembled. "Please, oh God, pl-please…can't." Dean could feel his brother's presence, yet he was staring into the face of hell.
"Now!" Sam yelled, the vice grip on Dean's throat released and he slid to the floor.
Dean gasped and gurgled, glancing around desperately he drug air back into his lungs. Spying the knife, lying under a broken pew, he crawled on hands and knees away from the creature. He was naseous, wanting to heave. This wasn't real. Couldn't be real. On auto-pilot, Dean somehow made his way to the knife.
Dean turned to see the devil-like demon laboring for every breath, struggling as it staggered over to the stained glass mirror.
"Yes, father." The beast raised a shaky clawed hand.
The beast smashed the glass, colored shards musically raining to the ground. The creature teeter-tottered, fighting an inner strength as its talons groped along on the floor.
"Gaaaa!" Sam's voice hissed out. "Dean!" He desperately fought to keep the creature at bay.
Dean was on his feet, just as the beast nabbed a large, jagged piece of colored glass.
"Do it. You have to do it!" Sam panted with effort, but he was fading.
The creature's wobbly hand raised the shard to its own throat and began to slice across its neck. The good still left in Sam tried to fight the evil from within, but the creature's hand tightened and relaxed in an unseen battle of wills.
Dean could see a thin line of blood appear. Red droplets about to patter onto holy ground. All it would take was one drop. One drop and the entire world would be damned. The good that was, Sam, inside the evil body couldn't hold on any longer. There was no more time. Dean had to end this before one drop of mutated blood could fall. Dean swallowed the taste of fear, grief already bleeding his heart. His hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of the knife, he held his breath and charged. Dean forced his feet to move, combating the knowledge that his only brother was hidden, trapped behind the pearly fangs and black gleaming eyes. Imaginary, ice-cold fingers tried to grip his ankles, trip him up, stop him from killing his brother. Combat training took over, breath snorted out Dean's nose, and his eyes grew wild. Now a force of nature, Dean tracked the creature. Guilt, fear, betrayal eating him alive. Destroy the demon. Save man kind. Dean's final thought -- was he not part beast himself.
"Ahhhhhhhhh! Dean barreled forward across the marbled floor, lunged into the air, knuckles turnign white as he buried the knife to its hilt into the beast's chest.
The moment the knife left his hand, Dean wished he could reclaim the weapon. The creature's head arched back and screamed, a volcanic blast of red spray spattering to the ground.
Tainted blood -- taken by the hand of a righteous man.
Dean pulled the knife from the beast's chest, sickened by the blood covered blade, knowing what he'd done. The creature hissed out one last breath, disappearing into a ring of smoke, a broken body left in its wake. Dean was momentarily stunned. Frozen as he watched Sam stagger, grabbing for his chest, his face gray, blood pumping in spurts between his fingers.
"Dean?" Sam met Dean's steady gaze. "You did it." A breath escaped, Sam's eyes rolled upward and he collapsed to the floor.
Dean still stood frozen. Sunlight beaming in through the broken stained glass -- illuminating his brother's fallen body. Several silent minutes of grief flooded Dean's soul. The world had been saved. Lucifer, stopped. Lilith, somehow gone. To hell with that, Dean didn't care, for his whole world lie dying, in a puddle of blood, upon the cold marble floor.
"Nooooooooooo!" Dean released his grip on the knife, the weapon clattering loudly against marble.
TBC….
*** Never fear…this is not a death story.