Here we are, the next one!
Drip. Drip. Splat.
Dark liquid sluiced down the edge of his blade and dripped off the tip. Filled with dread, Cass took a step back and watched the blood splatter onto the floor. Absolute guilt and regret flooded his heart for what he had to do. All in the name of survival and friendship. The last of the blood came to the taper, growing into a large congealed blob before falling and hitting his leather shoe. It was then that his heart broke.
Cass took another step and hung his head. He was about to put away his weapon when another angel sprung from the ground and rushed at him. His blade went up in defense and with adroit prowess swiftly gouged through the vessels throat. Beautiful pulsating light ignited from the intrusion site and the body shot back at the power of the soul vanishing. Cass then wiped the blood off his jacket, a sad twinkle forming in his eye.
All ten of his fellow comrades lay dead at his feet. It was a fight well fought. Jimmy his vessel certainly had endured several broken bones and near-stabbings. He had pleaded more than once for the small unit to stop and listen to him, but alas, his pleas fell on deaf ears. It was when one of them had pulled out a sword, much like his own—no doubt given to by Raphael—that the decision to kill was fortified. And easily, one by one, each was vanquished.
Once the final member fell dead, Cass sheathed his sword, stowing it back into the dark recesses of Jimmy's trenchcoat. He then rushed from the room to find Raphael, who earlier in the fight had chickened out and left. It wouldn't surprise him if the archangel had wetted his girlie panties and left screaming with his hands flailing over his balding head.
Cass laughed at the image. Raphael could pull off the best prissy bitch face unlike anything he had ever seen. Too bad only a few had seen it and had the gall to talk about it.
But he quickly set back his stoic game face. It confused him. Raphael was a powerful angel, one in the top of the hierarchy. No way would he willingly flee from a fight—a fight he started no less…unless something had him spooked. During the short battle, Cass had delivered the first blow and Raph easily blocked it. But after a few more curtail maneuvers in which Cass had gained the upper hand, Raph stopped short. His eyes first focused and then grew wide as though he saw something in his opponent, something that scared the holy hell of him and immediately took off afterward.
Cass knew what the Archangel might have seen. It was a question of what the celestial warrior might do now that he knew. But he wasn't taking any chances. He had to stay on high alert. Raphael's powers cloaked his senses. The being was still lurking about, that Cass knew, but he couldn't place him. It wouldn't take bringing Einstein back from the grave to guess that the bastard was biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment to attack. What a little bitch?
One thing that Raph didn't shield his senses against was the whereabouts of the other three men. He could feel Lucifer in the basement. The fallen angel grew stronger with each passing minute and it only had Cass fear for Sam's life. If Lucifer were to escape now, then all would be in peril. Not just the three of them in this little town, but the entire world once more. He sighed. They weren't ready for another rendition of Apocalyptica. They barely made it through the last time.
Cass could feel the demons and the other creatures on the lower level of the house, along with one witch. He peaked an eyebrow. There was only one witch. He searched some more. Surely there were more when the attack had begun.
He stopped.
Not only could he sense evil's presence, but he felt Dean too. Dean was captured, held down and was being tortured via the Witch's powers. He could feel his pain. It was hardly worth something he'd endure, so he had to move fast. Dean's life may have depended on it.
Cass left out of the room and into the ruins of Bobby's hallway, but he did not flee down the steps. Instead he turned into another room, a large storage space, where he felt another presence. Over in the corner he saw a giant white bundle stuck high on the wall. The further he approached it appeared more like a canvas cocoon. A couple of Skemies crawled over it, licking it, cawing loudly like a bunch of hyenas surrounding dinner.
They screeched, flashing their succulent black gums as he stepped up. One wave of his hand and they exploded into green goo. He came up to the cocoon hovering a hand over the sticky remnants, feeling Bobby's energy emanate from inside. Though he didn't really have to. The pair of muck boots protruding out on one end already told him who was bundled from within.
"Bobby!" Cass called.
There was a loud moan from inside.
"Hang on. I'll get cha out!"
Another long angry groan sounded. Cass could barely comprehend it, but he could've sworn he heard the word "bitch" as part of it. He shook his head. The old man was always a mouthy one.
The cocoon stank of rotten meat and body odor. And it was sticky, as though it was made of arachnid excrement. He looked around for a way of making an opening. Nothing was found. He laid a hand on the side and suddenly the skin began to sizzle.
"Ah," he cried prying his hand away. "What the…" he paused to think. Was this some sort of trick? What sort of magic was this? Or rather what had the power to defend against something like him?
Bobby started screaming again. The sack he was encased began to rock from the man's fidgeting. Cass looked closely. There at the end where Bobby's feet stuck out, he saw it, wisps of steam drifting upwards. More hollers reverberated from within and the cocoon became real hot…scorching hot. Holy shish-ka-bobs! It's sautéing him alive.
Cass thought real quick. Nothing had happened when he approached. Something must've set off a catalyst when he touched the sack. What the hell could do something like that?
Swift as the wind, Cass pulled out his sword. He slashed it at the material, but it failed to break through. He froze in shock. Surely one swipe from his blade and the thing would've split open. But as such, nothing happened and Bobby was still filleting.
Squinting, conjuring up a vast amount of energy, he concentrated it into the cold steel. The blade soon became hot, molten hot, glowing fiercely in his palm. He angled it up and in a flash tore it across the entire length of the sticky casing. A grand slit appeared with hot liquid and steam billowing out, and out fell Bobby onto the dusty flooring, red-faced and covered in burns.
"Bobby," Cass knelt by the near-unconscious figure. He pressed a couple fingers to the red forehead and the steaming burns disappeared. Bobby continued to lye on the ground panting for air, gazing wide-eyed at the ceiling. "Alright old man?"
Bobby coughed. "I'll…g-give y-you old man alright. Here…stand still so…I can put my foot…up your ass."
Cass pursed his lips. "I see you're back to normal," he stood up. "Stay still, don't move." However relieved that he was able to save Bobby from being made into stew, but there was a more pressing matter. What had put him in that cocoon? Skemies surely couldn't have done it. They were gangly scavenger things. More than likely they didn't have the proper mechanics to be making web-like material to encase their prey. And if that was the case, then what had?
The angel looked down to Bobby. "Bobby, what was it that put you in that thing?"
Bobby continued to pant, curling in on his side.
"Bobby!"
"I…I don't know," he gasped. "I didn't get a chance to see it. It moved too fast." The set of glazed blood-shot eyes settled on him and they widened. "C-C-Cass! Up! Up!"
There wasn't enough time. Before Cass had the chance to whirl around, he felt a thick sticky cord wrap around his neck, lifting him up in the air. He gurgled and squirmed, the rope beginning to burn through the delicate flesh. It charred and singed his fingers as he grabbed at it, but it held firm. Cass started to scream.
Clacking like that of a bunch of rats scurrying on the wall panels sounded above his head. His vision swam in and out of focus, the shape of something large and black moving towards the center. Finally his eyes adjusted and the blurriness faded. And what Cass saw made his heart drop like an iron anchor.
An arachnae.
A harbinger of death created by a small band of archangels during the Great War when the feud between Lucifer began. Spider-like with a black bulbous body and eight long-spindly legs and a humanoid head, the arachnae were like a group of assassins for angels. No bigger than a large Labrador, with fearsome strength, superimposed webbing extract like that of a real spider, they'd trap their prey, and like in a Venus Fly-trap dissolve their victims in an acidic vat.
They were mostly killed off after the war, thought to be near extinct. Only now it was clear that a few were kept alive, dormant, ready to use for the next battle of the galaxy.
The arachnae stared him down with ruby red eyes, licking its pointy nose with a long lizard-like tongue, revealing long serrated teeth. It squalled, its noise resembling hurricane-like winds.
Blood trickled down into Cass's shirt and jacket, painting his fingers. The web shrunk slicing into the cauterized skin. Any tighter and the webbing was sure to have lopped off his head like a string through butter. The arachnae licked its chops again, angled its body towards him and shot out another glutinous cord from its backend. The mucous-covered cord clung onto Cass's chest, immediately welding onto it, where the monster slid down gracefully pinning itself to the angel's torso. Instantly it sunk its jaws into his chest, exactly over Jimmy's heart.
Though in pain, in near-death, Cass knew what the arachnae was up to. When it didn't have an appetite for soupy angel-mix, it would do the next best thing. First it'd dig through his ribcage, break it open, and eat his heart. Then it would go after the very soul residing within the body and devour it. There was no point in leaving his vessel for a short time before it ate him…the web wrapped around his neck, unsurprisingly, had powers that held him trapped within.
The spider bit down once more peeling back the tough layer of epidermis, finally revealing the ribcage beneath. It stuck in at least four of its spindly legs ready to pry apart the bony prison and retrieve its prize. Cass gasped, his vision wavering again. This was it. He was going to be killed by a giant bug. WTF!
"HEY!"
The arachnae looked up.
Boom!
It's head exploded at the cannon of a shot, dousing everyone in a spray of shiny emerald sludge. As if it were in a slingshot, its body flung backwards hitting the back wall with a wet 'slop', where the rest of its creepy parts danced around in a circle. Another cannon shot sounded and the cord overtop Cass's head snapped off and he plummeted to the floor.
Bobby shoved his gun away upon running out of ammo. He rushed over to the fallen angel and helped him stagger to his feet. The angry scorched line across Cass's neck immediately healed as he peeled the cord away. He blinked several times, clutching his head.
"Are you alright?" Bobby asked, keeping a firm arm on the nerd's bicep.
"Ye…yea. Thanks," Cass stammered.
"Don't mention it."
The creature over in the corner continued its tap dancing routine, spinning in rapid pirouettes. Cass jumped at it, piercing through its shiny black body with Lucifer's sword. The thing twitched, having a spasm, before soon shuddering to a halt apparently dead.
Cass stood triumphantly over the remains, which began to disintegrate, melting through the floor. The arachnae was born from an archangel's sword; it would die upon them.
The wounded angel took a step back, placing a hand over his heart feeling the flesh and muscle mend. The healing was slow due to the arachnae's poison, but it soon was hastened at the destruction of its owner.
Bobby glanced all around for more newcomers, wearily checking the last weapon he carried. Cass stayed at ease. There were no other entities up on the higher level of the house. Though the danger was far from over.
"Come. We must hurry," he said to Bobby, gliding out the door.
~o(Supernatural)o~
Dean's voice was raw and overused from the screaming. Normally he would have bitten his tongue rather than emit out a cry of agony. He was never one to give satisfaction to his torturer-of-the-moment. Though he had to hand it to this chick. She was nifty in ways of eliciting pain and suffering that had even him by the balls.
The witch bitch gently lowered her hand, taking pleasure in hearing the harsh pants of relief. She grinned. One more dose of her power and she was sure he'd be groveling at her boots for a swift and clean death. Not that she wasn't willing to give him one, but it would be fun to hear this one beg.
Dean's body shuddered to a halt. He coughed, cringing at the ache it brought on He just had about enough of this. If she was merely playing with him, then what was the point? He grinned inwardly. Why not raise the stakes a bit? See what else she was capable of. What other choice was there? He was running out of time as it was. Who knew how long Sammy had before Lucifer busted out?
He forced out a cheesy grin. "I-is t-that the best you got, bitch."
"Excuse me," she sounded genuinely surprised.
"That's right," he spat out a puddle of blood. "If a-all you got is just fiddling with my innards, then I have to say I'm a little disappointed."
"Is that so?"
"You can bet your sweet ass, that's so. Come on, I know everyone wants a piece of this delicious thing. Jump in line. So I know you can do a little better than this. I'll tell ya what. Go get your hair down, have a little manicure cuz sweetheart you're in dire need of one, and maybe a pedicure while you're at it. Give yourself a little pampering session to come up with something better and worthwhile, cuz quite frankly this ain't nothing."
The witch glared.
"Go on. Time's a wasting."
"Fine," she muttered through clenched teeth. "You want to play rough, then we can do that." Her hands then snapped backwards, the points of her knuckles grazing the tops of her wrists, making Dean really queasy. They rotated around on their axis as she then began inciting an incantation.
She's gifted with hands. I'll give her that. Dean thought perversely.
The longer the witch spoke, the louder the foreign passage became. Her eyes now shined a bright green, the rest of her body glowing.
Dean gulped. Perhaps he didn't want to find out what this witch was capable of.
She raised her arms and Dean shut his eyes ready for the nuclear blast that was going to leave nothing but his dust imprint on the wall.
"ENOUGH!" A rough deep voice called.
The witch lowered her arms, the light surrounding her body waning. But she did not turn around. In stepped from the kitchen area were three people, two men and a woman, all with eyes the color of midnight. Demons.
Oh Great!
"Why must you stop me from taking my prize?" the witch questioned.
The demon in the middle, a tall handsome black man, stepped forward. "That's enough. We need him alive. How else are we going to draw Sam out here?"
"I don't care about your little problem," she seethed. "I've come to get my share. That was the deal. I get you in. I get my trophy. This pinprick off my side. This dying weed. This piece of insignificant roadside trash deserves no better than the rest of them."
"Jeez lady," Dean huffed.
"I understand," the demon softened his tone. "And we appreciate all of your hard efforts, we do. And you'll get your prize. But not yet. We need Sam to come out. We have to settle this for good. Killing off his brother so quickly in the process will be futile."
The witch leaned on her hip, obviously impatient. "Fine. You want Sam now. I'll go get him," she nodded to her Rawhead, who nodded back and like a submissive slave headed straight for the basement. "He'll be out in no time."
"Good. In the mean time, we wait…before he comes out with your friend's head."
She scoffed. "Not necessarily. I sensed his energy. He's weak. Taking him out of the equation would hardly be of any consequence."
The black man smirked. "If you say so."
Dean glanced wearily between the lot. Needless to say, he was dumbfounded as to what to do. The Rawhead was going straight for his helpless baby brother, and he was far too injured and hurting to stop them. What if that thing does bring Sam out? What if this demon horde does get what they want, quarter him and dice him, chop him into little bits and be done with him? What can he do?
Well Hells Bells, if he was going to stay in a broken wreck on the ground.
He carefully looked around for a source of weaponry. To the right he saw the rifle. Snatching it up, he first aimed it at the hot chick. Two shots to the shoulder and chest and the bitch went down screaming like a lemming falling off a cliff.
He then pointed the gun at the three demons, who fell to the ground each with a shot to the head. It wouldn't kill them, he knew, but it would slow them down. Keeping the gun close, he scrambled to his feet, limping towards the basement. He had to get to Sam before that fugly thing did.
His feet had stopped moving long before he realized he wasn't going anywhere. Looking down, he saw his leather shoes permanently stuck to the floor. His body gave an instant jerk to the side and he was launched back, pinned against the wall, the gun falling from his grasp.
"Oh Dean, you should've known that wouldn't have kept us down for long," the black man chided with his hand raised. "Split second timing. I'd have to say that is a record."
Dean squirmed, but to no avail, he was wedged in tight.
"Besides," the demon called out. "You wouldn't have gotten very far. There's more where we came from." Once he made that remark, the hallways suddenly were filled with people, faces of all ethnicities, of many colors, all with the same coal-colored eyes. There had to be at least thirty or so demons on the inside. Who knows how many on the outside? Shit!
The main threesome of demons laughed. "You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"
"Sure we did," someone called from up above.
The demons looked up towards the staircase. Cass and Bobby simultaneously jumped from the banister, squashing at least five demons to the floor. They jumped off, Bobby shooting the surrounding demon spawn down with his high-powered rifle. Cass lifted his hand and blasted a few of them backwards. Afterwards he advanced on the main three, swiping them off their feet.
The magical hold pinning Dean to the wall relented. Forgetting about the rifle, he immediately raced over to the desk, yanked open one of its drawers, and pulled out the sawed-off shotgun. Instantly he shot two demons back, stuffing the rest of the salt-pellets into his jacket pocket.
Bobby came up behind him, taking cover. They beat away any demons that shuttled towards them while Cass took on the rest. Loud blasts and screams echoed constantly throughout the small space. The two men persistently continued their defense, growing tired by every second. However the stream of demons seemed endless.
"I'm almost out," Bobby yelled.
"Me too!" Dean hollered back.
"What do we do?"
"I don't know!"
Something happened. Silence fell all around them for a split-second before there was a cataclysmic white flash. Dean and Bobby covered their faces at the hostile light, feeling the wave of heat it produced. Uncovering their eyes, both their faces fell at the sight. Cass was frozen against Raphael's grip, the archangel's silver sword pierced tightly into the angel's midriff.
"Cass no!"
Raphael dug the sword in deeper, half-smirking in delight, half-disappointed that he missed the intended heart muscle.
All the demons stood stunned, afraid to move, deep in shock at the sight of the Archangel.
Raphael leaned in closer to his victim. "It can't be true. It isn't."
Cass grimaced, his body shuddering. He gave off a small smile. "Believe it. And just to let you know, you're in big trouble."
The archangel scoffed. "Is that so? Well, let's see how it goes once you're dead."
Cass's smile grew wider, and surreptitiously he threw out his hand. "That's alright. It w-won't m-matter."
"And why's that?"
The large golden talisman flew through the air and Cass caught it in his grip. Angling it down, he stuck it squarely into Raphael's back. The angel released his grip and stumbled back in shock. Desperately he reached for the object, but to no avail, it remained planted.
"Because you're dead."
Raphael backed up to the bookcase, whirling around several times, his body bucking in pain and electrical shock. Soon he stopped and spread his arms out, the talisman igniting a spark, in which the angel's entire embodiment became engulfed in flames. He screamed for mercy, falling to his knees, and in under a few seconds, the powerful being disintegrated into ashes. The hilt of Michael's sword fell with a loud 'clang'.
Cass steadily gripped the silver weapon in his side and slid it out. Wobbly-kneed, he fell to the ground with a great clatter. Blood bubbled from his lips. "T-thanks D-Dean. It…it worked."
"Cass, are you okay?" Dean called out worriedly from behind the desk.
"N-No."
"Shit!"
The main demon stepped forward. "I wouldn't be worried about him if I were you. You boys are both in deep. Real deep!"
Suddenly low-level demons from all sides jumped at them, pulling them away from each other. Bobby yelled and cried, throwing a punch or a kick whenever he could. The demons bludgeoned him to the ground.
"Bobby! Bobby!" Dean screamed, also being clouted on heavily.
A demon in the form of a woman took out a wicked looking knife over the old man. Dean's eyes grew wide, fearing for Bobby's life. "BOBBY! NOOOO!" She took the strike…not once, but three times.
"Bobby!" he screamed. "YOU SONS OF BITCHES!"
"Now your turn," the demon bitch turned, wiping off his father's dark hot blood off her jacket. The more he fought, the more demons held him down. The woman approached fast and struck him deep in his side, her devilish eyes shining in triumph, in mirth at her conquest. The knife came out and once more, he felt the white-hot entrance of the sharp steel now in his other side.
Unwillingly he became real quiet. His limbs went slack, the rest of his body growing numb. He'd been stabbed multiple times before, but now…now if felt different. He had nothing left. His strength faded quickly, no longer a threat to his surrounding enemies. The demons dropped him to the floor, where the spread of blood rapidly pooled around his torso. His world was off its axis; the numbness ensnaring everything.
He was dying…again. Dangn't!
The main demon rejoiced, clapping his hands together at the work done. "Well done group. Now that we incapacitated our enemies' family…and not the witch," he peered down at the moaning woman on the floor. "We can call to him now. And let's see what he does."
"So we get to kill him now?" a demon asked.
"No. No. No. No. Kill him? No," the head demon shook his head. "If our dear Lord is still residing within his vessel, we'll call out to him. Offer our allegiance, where he'll take us in with open arms, probably reward us for perpetual faithfulness. And once more we'll be the superpower of this world. Now where the hell is that Rawhead?"
A couple of the lower-level demons began heading towards the basement. Everything fell silent…before there was a gigantic blowout. The lights flickered on and off, the entire house quaking beneath their soles. Another explosion occurred, where several of the bookcases and cabinets toppled over, glass shattering abysmally across the ground.
"What the hell is going on?" the main woman demon shouted.
There was coughing and the two lower demons reentered the room, swapping at the smoke that billowed around them.
"Well…what's happened?"
"He's…he's not there," the demon stammered. "The mangy dog the witch sent down there earlier is in pieces. The Winchester boy isn't down there."
"What are you talking about? Then where the hell is he?"
Some of the demons gasped, others taking multiple steps back. The messenger demon yelped pathetically pointing a finger over the black man's shoulder. The main demon stilled then slowly turned around…where he came face-to-face with a very pissed off Sam Winchester.
The demon gulped. "My…my Lord. Is…is that…that you in there?"
Sam continued to glare for a second longer, and then very briefly said, "No." Instantly he raised his hand, and the demonic energy residing within the captive vessel was vanquished, faster than a strike of lightning. Most of the flock of demons jumped back, some of the others fleeing.
Sam strode into the livingroom first eying the surrounding enemy, before casting a glance at Cass. His heart clenched at seeing his friend gazing up at him warily, in fear, and in hope. He looked to the left and saw Bobby, lying on his back, with several stab wounds. A nasty cobra of anger coiled and uncoiled at the sight. He looked to the right and his heart stopped all together.
It was Dean. Lying on his stomach, barely conscious with a pool of blood under him, dying. The cobra inside of him revealed its dangerous fangs, now prepared to strike.
He glowered at his enemy. Nobody messes with his family and lives to tell the tale.
A demon suddenly fell forward onto his knees, begging, pleading to be spared. And that was the trigger. Suddenly filled with molten-hot rage, Sam kicked the low-life away up into the crowd. The sudden hostility set the demons off, their fear leading them to stampede towards him.
He was too quick for any of them. Throwing out several punches and undercuts, kicking, beating, the demons dwindled in numbers, many left sprawled on the ground. Many others resorting to running away, while the remaining few tried to take on the big bad.
The two remaining Rawheads and Skemies also jumped into the fight. Sam, with a wave of his hand, using Lucifer's invested power, demolished the gangly monsters. A Rawhead came up, whereby he immediately put it into a headlock. One great twist and the head came clean off. The other grotesque creature came up from behind. He spun around and crushed its skull in with one hit. It went down like a large Redwood in the California forest.
The demons refused to let up their assault. They surrounded their foe on all sides, some of them using their measly powers in an attempt to pin him down. It didn't work. Sam knelt his head down, closing his eyes, drawing up his power. Looking up, all the demons blasted away from him, draped out over the floor.
He came up and stood over the lot raising his palm. About six or seven of the demons instantly were killed, their bodies arching off the ground as the wave of power hit them.
Others saw what had happened and scrambled to their feet. Sam turned around and raised his hand to them. They were killed off on the spot. The remaining flock all looked up afraid, pleading before they too were eliminated. Sam then rested his gaze on the ceiling, searching the outer perimeter for any other escapees. He caught their presence in mid-getaway. Shutting his eyes again, he concentrated…and one-by-one each of the evil entities were destroyed, their human vessels left as roadside carcasses.
Dean shakily raised his head onto his forearm. He had seen what his brother had done, and it terrified him. Not that Sam was so kick-ass in destroying the army of demonic wimps, but in what it could do to his condition. Last he checked Sam was on the verge of spontaneous combustion.
"S-S-Sammy…" he gasped.
Sam slowly turned towards him. He sent a small reassuring smile, to Dean felt so wrong. "It's okay Dean. It's going to be okay. They're gone and you're safe now…"
Something wasn't right. That Dean could feel in the pit of his soul.
"You know I didn't get a chance to do this last time, so I'm doing it now," he gave another one of those wretched smiles, and then to Dean's horror said, "Goodbye."
Dean choked. He raised himself up on his elbows, cringing at the pain brought on. "N-no. No. S-Sammy n-no."
Sam's body suddenly chose that time to buck. He closed his eyes as the rest of his limbs and chest twitched and laggardly convulsed.
To Dean it was like time had slowed, and he was watching the events unfold through slo-mo. Sam pitched to his knees firstly before listing onto his side. His eyes were open, but it was as though he were catatonic again, listless, his spirit like that of a sparrow flying off into the dying sun. A blazing lilac-colored light began to emanate from within his core. His eyes closed whilst his head sloped to the side just as his entire body became enshrouded in Lucifer's burning light.
Sammy NO!
Eh, there I go again! Poor Dean. Poor Sammy. Who will save them now? All right, one more to go. Hope this was to your liking.
One thing though. I'm sure the name "arachnae" has been used before, but it sounded cool to me at the time. And yes, that particular creature also is made up. Why spend more time researching when you can just make it up, right? :o Well anyways, I thought it would be rather different to use a sort of smaller version of "Shelob". A spider monster always gave me the creeps. Thanks for reading. The next and final one should be up soon.