Dean looked up at the green door before him and reached for the knob. He didn't need to glance over his shoulder to know that Julie was only a hairsbreadth behind him, her hot breath on his neck was clue enough. Now that it had come down to it, her earlier bravado seemed to have deserted her. The green-eyed hunter had to admit, he couldn't blame the girl.
The pain-filled screams they'd heard only moments ago, hadn't done much to bolster his courage either.
Christine's screams meant she was still breathing, and as an added bonus it also meant psycho Smith was otherwise occupied. At least, that's what he told himself as he'd gestured for Julie to follow when he'd darted across the wide expanse of the driveway.
Confident that indecision would only slow them down, Dean turned the knob and eased the door open. A glance inside showed the long corridor that Julie had mentioned and nothing else.
Shotgun in hand the hunter moved inside, with the blonde right on his heels. As he moved down the hallway, he glanced toward the pictures that lined the walls.
"This is the photo collection you mentioned?" he asked Julie in a low whisper as he took a moment to study the nearest photo.
Julie hesitated a moment before answering, "It looks different."
Dean could only imagine it did, given the fact that the first portrait he looked at showed an obviously frightened woman with her expression frozen in fear. Though he supposed, from a distance, it might look like the woman was smiling, one only had to focus on her eyes to see the truth.
"They all looked different," Julie insisted.
The hunter leaned closer and ran one finger down the face of the wall. If he wasn't mistaken Sherwin-Williams wasn't Smith's paint supplier either. "It's dried blood."
At his statement, Julie seemed to fold in on herself. "No…"she moaned, her voice rising an octave in distress.
With no desire to be the one to add another layer of 'paint' to Smith's walls, Dean reached out and slammed his palm over the young woman's mouth. Leaning down slightly, he put his lips to her ears and breathed, "You want out? 'Cause things are only going to get worse."
Julie's wide-eyed gaze focused on Dean as she seemed to judge his honesty.
Needing her to understand, he nodded and eased up the hand that still covered her mouth. "You can turn back. You know the way."
In that moment, Dean was certain he had the young girl. In fact he would have bet his car on that fact if it wasn't for the sudden blood-curdling scream that rent the air.
The noise caused Julie to jump, her hands going up to cover her ears. Dean himself felt a sudden urge to move, to stop the other woman's pain and to destroy the creature that was causing it.
"Go," Dean said giving her a slight push toward the front door as he turned and moved up the hall on silent feet.
"No" came the whispered reply as he felt Julie move up behind him.
Unable to waste anymore time, he kept moving. He'd passed hundreds of portraits, all Dean were willing to bet were former victims, when the hall at last ended. The space to the left included the kitchen and an eating area; to the right were two doors and a set of steps.
As he took in the room by the day's dying light, he found himself with the sudden urge to vomit. The floor beneath his feet was wooden, splintered and stained, there was dry gore smeared over nearly all of it.
The walls were a dark rust color that put him in mind of dried blood. A rotten smell of flesh, blood, and bile that was causing his eyes to water and his stomach rebel seemed to confirm the image.
The countertops might have at one-time been white, but years of putrid use had turned them a dark brown. Both the fridge and the stove were rusted out heaps that sported spray patterns which didn't bode well for any of them.
Apparently, when Smith was done doing whatever it was he did, he brought the bodies to the kitchen for either disposal or storage.
Curiosity insisted that he check out the fridge to see just how whacked the killer was. As he moved toward the appliance, Julie remained glued to his back, a nearly inaudible whimper the only sound she made.
It wasn't until he reached his hand out, with the intention of pulling open the fridge that she put her fear into words.
"NO…no…no…no…no," the girl muttered as she reached out to grip the sleeve of his jacket. "Don't."
Her moaned protest had Dean reconsidering what he was about to do. He really wasn't sure he wanted to see the reality of what his mind kept trying to imagine. The idea of Tupperware bins full of body parts neatly lined up on the fridge shelves was enough to still his hand.
"'K," he whispered roughly as he turned from the kitchen and moved toward the two doors near the stairs.
As soon as he gave up on examining the fridge, Julie released the grip she had on his jacket and cowered behind him once more. Dean had to admit he really didn't mind her barnacle impression. The less courage the blonde showed the safer she'd be. At least behind him she'd have a fighting chance to get gone if this whole thing went south.
When, Dean amended to himself with a bitter twist to his lips. After all, he was facing an unknown, with no more than some holy water and a shotgun full of rock salt. He found himself pushing away the wish that his 'geek' brother was with him. At least with Sam, he'd still be screwed, but he might have some clue what they were dealing with. Even at sixteen, the youth had more than proved himself to be the king of research.
"Stand back," Dean whispered as he went to open the first door they'd come to.
Julie did as he requested but just barely. Dean knew that if he reached behind him he'd still be able to brush her coat. Knowing that was probably as far from his side as he'd be able to peel her, he let it go and focused his attention, and his shotgun, on the wood before him.
"Bathroom," the woman muttered.
Dean nodded to show he understood and turned the knob. As he slid the door open a smell, not unlike a backed up sewer, hit him in the face making his eyes water and his stomach clench in protest.
The sound of Julie gagging did nothing to aid his own nausea. Careful to draw in air only through his mouth, Dean ignored the young girl and flipped on the light. The single bulb, dangling from a wire over the sink, threw the bathroom into sharp relief.
The young hunter only wished it hadn't.
With one hand, he pushed a now whimpering Julie away from the opening and backed out, content that the brown stained toilet, and moldy-yellowed sink offered nothing in the way of help or hindrance.
Easing the door closed once more, Dean looked at the pasty-faced girl, and grimaced. "I'm guessing it didn't look like that before?"
Not recognizing the sarcasm in his tone Julie shook her head, her eyes so wide and wet she rivaled an anime cartoon, and said, "No, it was…nice."
Proud of himself for not rolling his eyes at the girl's understatement, Dean motioned toward the second door. "Basement," he whispered, hoping he was right. He'd done a perimeter check earlier, finding four bricked up windows set high in the foundation, but no outside entrance. There had to be inside access.
The girl acknowledged his words with a nod before she tucked herself against him once more.
Feigning bravery, Dean slipped the door open and gazed down into the black abyss. He was right, a set of stairs disappeared into complete and utter darkness. The odor winding its way up from the opening, though not as strong as the smell in the bathroom, definitely wouldn't be beat back with a simple can of air freshener.
Dean had no desire to go down those steps, in fact, he was pretty sure he'd rather have his fingernails pulled out with a rusty set of pliers than step foot on the rickety wood. However, heading upstairs without having fully checked out his surroundings would be a stupid and rookie move. If there was another exit to the small house, or god forbid more than one…well, whatever Smith was, then he needed to know.
He was already short on intel, he couldn't afford to leave anything else up to chance. A glance back at Julie nearly made him insist she stay upstairs. Tears were making their way down her chin as she stood with her bad arm hugging her side. With her other she held tight to the tire iron he'd given to her earlier.
Pulling out the last dry handkerchief he'd had in his stash, he placed the rag in her bad hand and said, "You have to come down with me, it's not safe up here."
At his words, Julie shook her head and backed up. "No way, I can't go down there."
"You can, and for your friend, you will," Dean insisted. He had no doubt the girl had reserves of strength she had only begun to tap.
He had seen flashes of that strength off and on all day but no more so then when he'd set her dislocated shoulder. Despite the non-stop weep-fest, the girl had guts.
With a sniff that had Dean looking pointedly toward the handkerchief she still clutched, the young woman nodded and gestured toward the dark opening. "After you," she warbled.
Dean shot her a fleeting smile, before he turned to face the dark stairs. As he began his descent, he pulled his flashlight from the inside of his pocket. "Close the door," he whispered as he crept down the stairs, Julie right on his tail.
Now cut off from the light of the ground floor, they found themselves in complete and total darkness. Julie's panicked breathing the only sound to be heard. "Easy," he murmured as he clicked on the flashlight, lighting a small section of the stairs.
Once his feet touched bottom, he stayed by the stairs, and panned his light around the cavern-like room. He had found Smith's graveyard, of that Dean had no doubt.
The basement consisted of nothing more than four block walls and a dirt floor. Dirt that had, apparently, been dug up more times than he wanted to count. He could clearly imagine, Smith down here tending to his garden of death. Large bags of lime, and shovels hinted at the fact that Smith wasn't completely buckets of crazy. The man most likely used the mineral to help aid in decomposition and cut down on the smell. Dean still couldn't imagine what the place must reek like in the hot Kentucky summers.
He moved to step off the bottom step only to have Julie grab at him like a life preserver.
"Don't, please Dean," the girl begged as she maintained her death grip on his jacket.
Honestly not relishing the thought of walking across the loamy soil, Dean relented and stayed where he was. He could clearly see each wall and there appeared to be no exit. Nor was there anywhere to hide.
"Let's go," he whispered as he turned and gestured for Julie to lead the way.
Taking the reprieve to heart, she darted back up the steps and away from the mass grave.
"Julie!" Dean warned as the young woman burst out of the basement door.
888
Sam stepped up to the red Subaru with a weak smile and leaned against the open driver's side window. "Thanks for coming."
Jane flashed him a wink and set the car in park. "No problem, just don't think I'll come running every time you flash those puppy eyes at me."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sam couldn't help the thrill that raced down his spine at the red-heads words. He didn't know what had surprised him more, the fact that he'd called her for help, or that she'd come through for him without hesitation.
"Seriously, I can't thank you enough."
This time the pretty teen tilted her head slightly as if she didn't understand. "We're friends, Sam. You need something, I'm gonna do my best to help."
Unable to express just how much he appreciated her words, Sam ducked his head and pecked the pretty girl's cheek. "Still, thanks. If it was anybody but Dean…" Sam allowed his words to trail off as Jane pinned him with her sharp gaze.
"I know how close you and your brother are. I get it."
Jane's words, as she climbed from the car, had Sam studying her closely. "What do you mean you know?"
"I've watched your brother pick you up from school without fail since you came here, Sam."
Sam nodded and pushed harder. "Yeah, so has everyone else in school, means nothing. Why do you think we're so close?"
This time it was Julie that faltered a bit. "One day I had a chat with your brother before you came out."
"My brother doesn't just chat with pretty girls," Sam snapped hating the jealous tone in his voice. What was worse, he wasn't sure if he was resentful that Dean's wandering eye had touched upon Jane, or if it was the fact that the girl had dared to approach his brother.
A slight touch of awe edged into Jane's words as she confessed, "He sure takes the big brother thing seriously."
Sam smiled slightly as a sudden image of Dean, leaning against his muscle car, his black gaze searching out signs of trouble came to mind. "Yeah, well it's pretty much just the two of us."
"I got that, well and he made it clear that the only way he'd help me with you was if I promised not to hurt you."
"Help you with me?"
This time it was Jane that ducked her head in embarrassment. "Sam, I've been into you all school year and you just kept looking straight through me."
Sam's eyes widened in surprise as he worked to make sense of the pretty red-head's confession, "You have?"
"Yeah, you dumb-nut, I have, you kept ignoring all my hints. Today in class was my last ditch effort."
As carefully as he knew how, Sam reached out and caressed the bruised skin around Jane's eye. "Sorry it didn't work out a bit better."
The redhead reached up and grasped his hand in her own. "I'm not."
With his heart pounding, Sam leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jane's upturned lips. "Neither am I," he confessed.
"Good," she said with a heart stopping smile. "So, go get that brother of yours and maybe next time we can dispense with all the injuries."
"Sounds good," he replied as he stepped back and reached for the duffle he'd left on the ground.
Once he had settled behind the wheel of the still running Subaru, Sam looked up at Jane and asked, "You've got a ride home?"
The girl nodded as she bent down to face him through the window. "Yup, I'm all set. Carrie'll be here in a minute to pick me up."
"Won't your folks care?" Though he had called her for help, he wasn't willing to risk getting her in trouble. If need be he was more than capable of 'borrowing' transportation. He simply didn't want to.
"Naw, I told my dad it was making a funny noise, told him I know a great mechanic who was willing to take a look at it for the weekend."
"So you lied," Sam chided.
"Nope, your brother's a mechanic, and you're going to pick him up, so technically, if it does make a noise I'll expect him to fix it."
"Just how much talking did you and Dean do?"
This time it was Jane that kissed him. "Enough to know that his only two interests are you and that car of his."
Unable to deny her words, Sam nodded and said, "I'll be back as soon as I can."
Throwing the redhead one last wave, Sam backed out of the driveway and headed toward the highway.
888
Smith gazed down at Christine's sleek form with a fond smile. The petite brunette had proven herself to be a fighter. Her constant struggling and refusal to give voice to her pain pleased him to no end.
She was a rare and unusual gift.
So far, he'd been careful to only do minimum damage. He didn't want to risk breaking her spirit or her body too soon. It would be disappointing to lose her before he had Julie in his grasp.
Ghosting his hand over the bruises that were beginning form on her soft skin, Smith reassured his captive, "You just sit tight. I'm heading out right now to bring back the lovely Julie and her would-be knight."
At the mention of her friend, Christine's eyes rolled back in her head and she ground out, "Leave…her."
"Aren't you just a sweet girl. It'll be so much fun to find out if she's as worried about you when it's her turn for a little readjustment."
Smith reached out and placed his hands on the small wheel that controlled the rollers on the bed. Giving it only the slightest of turns, he relished Christine's scream of pain. He knew from experience that sound would soon be rivaled only by the pops of her joints as her bones dislocated and then snapped altogether.
Eager to get down to business, Smith left his young guest and headed out the door. As he reached the top of the stairs, he noticed a foul odor. Unsure of what it might be, he wrinkled his nose in distaste and made his way down the steps on quiet feet. The smell was light and floral, a clean scent that made the insides of his nose burn.
As he eased his way down the stairs, he caught a whiff of something stronger, something that sent bile creeping up the back of his throat.
The hunter.
The smell of the man's honor and good intentions had wormed its way through Smith's house, bringing with it feelings of hope. It was enough to make him want to vomit. Though he'd intended to bring both Julie and her young man here to his house, the plan had been to make them suffer first, not allow them to mount a rescue mission.
His house was his sanctuary, it was the one place left on earth that he could retreat to when everything became too bright, too peaceful. Then along comes this hunter, with his noble soul, filling Julie with hope for her friend.
He wouldn't stand for it. This boy would be broken, heart, body and soul, and Smith would relish doing it.
Careful not to show himself, he edged his way down the bottom step wrinkling his nose as the smell grew stronger. The ground floor looked clear, with no sign of either the young blonde or the boy in sight. As he moved forward on silent feet his gaze moved toward the bathroom door that was shut tight. Earlier, he was certain the door had been slightly ajar.
Ignoring the urge to vomit, the sliver-haired man moved toward the basement and drew in a deep breath. Even with the door closed, the smell that was rising from cellar told him what he needed to know. A quick and silent trip into the kitchen for the hammer he used to hang his artwork with and he was ready to go.
Weapon in hand, he moved toward the bathroom and secreted himself inside. Leaving the door slightly ajar, he waited. He wasn't willing to risk a direct confrontation, in doing so he risked losing one of his victims. Instead, he would take out one of them right away, leaving him free to deal with the second.
The sound of pounding footsteps coming up from the cellar was all the warning he could have asked for. Ready to pounce, he watched as the basement door was flung wide open.
888
"Julie!"
Julie ignored Dean's warning and continued her mindless flight up the stairs. The sight of Smith's burial ground had brought it home to her just how crappy their chances of survival were. It was obvious the bastard had the psycho serial killer thing down pat. Despite, Dean's obvious skill, Julie was now certain they didn't stand a chance.
What made things worse was in her desire to help Christine she'd now put the young cop's life on the line as well.
With a silent sob she flung open the basement door and went to move through it only to be brought to a standstill by Dean's strong grip.
"Easy," the young man breathed as he pulled her back down a step and wrapped one strong arm around her.
The solid feel of his chest at her back and the warmth of his breath against her neck was all too great a reminder that she'd led him to his death. She should have allowed him to go for help. Though she was willing to die for her friend, she shouldn't have forced that same fate on the man that held her close.
With a whimper, she apologized, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten you involved. We're all gonna die and it's my fault."
Suprisingly, her words were met with a squeeze and a low chuckle. "Trust me when I say we're not gonna die. As for getting involved, it's what I do."
"Yeah, well, it's not your job to sacrifice yourself blindly," Julie countered.
"Actually…how about you just trust me when I say this isn't the first time."
With a nod and a sniff, Julie insisted, "I'm still sorry."
"Listen, I'll accept your apology as long as you promise me you've learned your lesson, no more bathroom breaks in 'squeal like a pig' country."
Dean's words startled a laugh out of her causing a lightness in her chest. "Deal."
"Good," he affirmed as he shifted her over a bit, so he could get past her. "Now, let's go get Christine."
Julie watched by the glow from the open doorway as Dean moved up the stairs. The grace with which he carried himself was enough to make her wish they'd met under different circumstances.
He cautiously peeked out the open door and then moved out of her line of sight.
She was about to follow him out when she heard a sudden thump, followed by a grunt of pain. The sound of another grunt had her moving up the stairs, tire iron gripped tight in her good hand.
Unable to do much, but needing to at least try, she paused in the doorway to get her bearings. As she feared Smith had Dean pushed up against a wall, with some kind of tool shoved up and under the younger man's chin.
Julie tightened her grip and moved forward intending to help when Dean's eyes flicked toward her.
"Run," the younger man choked out as he continued to struggle against Smith's grip.
"Julie," the silver-haired devil intoned, "Why don't you save us both some trouble and drop that crude weapon."
Despite knowing it would be the kiss of death, Julie had a sudden urge to just give into the bastard that was grinning cruelly over his shoulder at her. The idea that they could win against such a monster just seemed like an impossible dream. The only thing that stopped her was Dean's continued struggle.
She knew it in her bones that no matter her choice the green-eyed man wouldn't give up. Given the fact that he was in this situation to begin with because of her, she couldn't ignore his silent plea to fight.
As if she'd spoken her decision to keep on fighting aloud, Dean suddenly surged up against Smith and broke the older man's hold. Julie took advantage of Smith's momentary distraction and darted back down the stairs. With nowhere to run her only thought was to find a place to lay in wait for the killer. It wasn't really a plan, as much as a delayed death wish, but it was the best she could come up with.
Using the light from the top of the stairs to trip her way down the steps, she reached the ground floor only to hear another cry, this time from Smith, as something heavy shoved the open door closed.
Plunged into sudden darkness, with only a miasma of smell to guide her, Julie stumbled and fell. Throwing out her hands to break her fall, she shuddered as they sank deep into the freshly overturned soil. A waft of decaying air, ghosted over her face as she scrambled to get her feet beneath her once more.
Up at last, she backed up until the edge of the wooden stairs was hitting her ankles. Afraid to move on, but even more afraid of the noises of battle from upstairs, Julie was at a loss. Shoving away images of skeletons and half-rotted corpses, she reached out her good hand until she felt the length of iron hit the stair railing.
With something solid to hang onto, Julie began to work her way around the steps. From what she could recall of her earlier descent, the basement was a large square with nothing but the steps themselves to break up the emptiness.
Once she'd circled the wooden structure, she put her back against the steps and hunkered down to wait. The muffled sounds of a fight continued from up above. Given the number of times she heard Smith roar in pain or anger, she had to figure Dean was giving as good as he got. With a litany of prayers that the younger man would prevail, Julie settled down to await the outcome.
At last there was a mighty crash combined with the tinkling of glass, that led Julie to believe someone had been thrown into the wall. Then the lone sound of one set of footsteps thumping their way across the floor above.
As the door above swung open, Julie waited with bated breath to see who the victor was.
"Julie," Smith called in a sing-song voice. "You're knight in shining amour has been vanquished, it's time, you, my dear maiden, surrendered."
All thoughts of trying to fight off Smith disappeared at the sound of his voice. Muted with horror, Julie faced the underside of the steps and watched the back of his heavy boots clump down the steps. Backing up, she put one hand behind her and felt for the wall.
She'd backed up a half-dozen steps when it finally occurred to her she hadn't hit the cinderblocks yet. Using the dim light of the open door above, she glanced behind her and noticed a hint of darkness that the light was unable to penetrate. Before she could doubt herself, Julie moved toward the hole, ducking a little to fit inside.
Immersed in darkness, the young blonde never looked back. Instead, she moved steadily forward, hunched to avoid the low ceiling and with arms outstretched in caution.
The sound of Smith hitting the bottom stair sent chills down her spine and caused her to speed up. No matter where the tunnel was going to end up, it had to be better than what she was leaving behind. The fact that it might end up a dead-end was something Julie refused to consider.
888
"Julie, You're knight in shining amour has been vanquished, it's time, you, my dear maiden, surrendered."
Smith's words worked better than a sharp slap at bringing Dean back to the world of the living. With a groan he flattened his palms to the wooden floor and pushed himself upright. A careful shake of his head, helped to clear out the last of the cobwebs that Smith's blow had caused.
Luckily for him, he had inherited his father's hard head. Both John's stubbornness and his father's capacity for taking a beating were traits that had served Dean well. As he listened to Smith make his way down the basement steps, Dean had a feeling both qualities would soon be called into use.
"Smith!" he roared, hoping to distract the creature from his current hunt. With a wince at the pain that tore through his head at his own cry, he moved toward the staircase and peered down into the darkness.
His quarry stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking back at Dean with a feral grin. Despite the darkness, Smith's eyes shined silver giving the hunter his second clue that the man was less than human. The first clue had been the ass-whupping Dean had just been served. There was no way the older man could have packed that hard a punch unless he was something more than he seemed.
If Julie was to have even a remote chance at getting gone, he needed to keep the killer occupied.
"That all you got old man," Dean sneered as he made a come and get me gesture to the creature below. He knew the statement would have packed more punch if blood wasn't free-flowing from a cut just above his eye, but all in all he felt his delivery was on the money.
His words seemed to do the trick, as Smith's face lit up with a smile. The older man placed one booted foot on the stairs and sang out, "Julie, my dear, it seems as if your hero here needs a bit more instruction on how to respect his elders."
With a deep breath to help settle his nerves, Dean backed up a step and replied, "You can give it a go, Smith, but, I doubt you'll succeed where a half-dozen principles all failed."
Again, Smith's eyes flashed silver as the he crept up the stairs. "Unlike those unfortunate men, I have a few tricks up my sleeve that I've yet to use."
888
Sam slowed as a mile marker flashed by and pulled the small red car off onto the shoulder. Leaving the car running, he grabbed a flashlight and climbed out of the vehicle. Taking only a moment to stretch out his stiffness, he then began to pan the light over the gravel roadway, looking for some sign that his brother had indeed been here.
It took only minutes for Sam to stumble upon a set of tire tracks that could easily have belonged to the Impala. The tire track along with his brother's distinctive boot print was confirmation enough for Sam that Dean had indeed stopped here.
Confident that he'd picked up his brother's trail, Sam climbed back in his car and continued down the roadway. Despite being grateful to Jane for the use of her car, he couldn't help feeling disloyal to both his brother and his brother's baby. The Subaru's whining engine, reinforced just how far out of his realm of normal he'd gone.
On the other hand, he kept desperately wishing he could find his brother if only to listen to the older man's hour long tirade about foreign vehicles and just what constitutes a pussy car. It was a rant that Sam had listened to so often he could probably recite it verbatim.
Now missing his brother, as he'd never before missed his own father, Sam swiped a hand across his eyes and continued down the highway.
He hadn't been moving for long, when he spotted the turn off the detective had told him Dean had taken. More than ready to find his brother, Sam took the turn.
TBC