Unbroken 'Apocalypse' Chapter 5: E2: Lullaby, P3: Dark Waters, a supernatural fanfic

Hey guys. Sorry bout the super long-taking update. I hope it was worth the wait though. Worked my butt off for this chapter. It's a longer than most updates, but I decided also that there's going to be at least one if not more chapters in this episode left. I guess you can say I was "researching," making sure my ideas can work in this story. They haven't touched in on what I need for this story to be credible, thank god. I have to admit I really have fallen for the idea I'm about to crack and it won't take too long before it'll pass up my other monster story because right now, this one is way more fun to writ for. Lucky you guys, huh?

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The air was locked in the biting cold of twilight. It was the kind of chill which stole your breath. Moonlight lit the thick cloud of mist before him, giving it a ghostly glow. Visibility was at almost zero between the tossing waves and thick fog bank.

Sam's skin felt as if huge chunks of flesh were being ripped away as the vicious wind assaulted him. But he did not move. Not for a second. His arms were bare and exposed, dew and sweat forming a thin layer of frost across his hide.

His muscles were tense, ready to react in any way he thought best. Bellow him, the boat shifted, rocked as a wave crashed into its side. His head flashed around. Where were they? Would they fall for the bait?

Another surge hit as a wave crashed into the boats side. Fortunately the anchor kept it well in place, though not without a loud, dismayed groan coming from the oak deck. The model itself was old, one of the few ships which still bobbed in the harbor.

The board creaked once more, moaning in protest under some unseen weight. Sam's hazel eyes flashed toward the source, but there was nothing, no one. There was a hard knot forming in the pit of his stomach; his thoughts shifted once more to Dean. He could only hope that Dean was alright.

He was determined to not loose his cool. Not when so much was at stake. The prospect of loosing his brother again had did not appeal to him. Even with Dean alive and well back from Hell, he had not forgotten New Harmony.

Such a pleasant name for such a bad memory. Nothing Sam had ever been through had ever been worse. Not even close. Sure they'd had their close calls. Heck, Sam could drown in all the blood his brother had shed on him in the last few years. Not even including New Harmony.

And then there was that small town, Broward County, back almost a whole year ago. He'd seen Dean die countless times, such that the moment the hellhound ripped into Dean's chest, Sam half expected to hear Asia singing "Heat of the Moment" again.

But those deaths had seemed surreal. Even the pain of seeing the elder Winchester get killed over and over without end had been nothing though. Not compared with New Harmony.

Three inches. He had been literally three inches away. Away from Lilith. Away from her beating heart. Away from ending the deal. From stopping the hellhounds in their tracks. From saving Dean from their claws…

The image of the doors flinging open flashed into his mind. The gust of wind as the invisible hound rushed in. The agonizing cry ripping from Dean's lips as the hound ripped him off the table. Sam could still see his chest tearing open. Could image the massive pool of crimson gushing from his brother's chest as he screamed in pain while the hellhound tore into his torso. Could see the light leave his eyes as his cries suddenly silenced into his last death rhythms. Could feel the blood on his hands as he gathered his brother's corpse afterwards, cleaning it himself and giving it a crude burial just outside the cursed town, lost in the forest where no one but Sam could find it.

Not a thought. Not a look. Never a time he bothered to do anything Dean-related did this not flash into his mind. Even if only for a second. To Sam, it had been hard ever since Dean had come back to tell if injuries Dean acquired were real or if they were just his eyes tracing where the wounds had once been.

Perhaps even more disturbing were the dreams. Endless cries of pain as the cruelest punishments befell the elder Winchester. Just imagining what he went through sent Sam's mind spinning. Hell was no joke. What force could change a person's soul, their very being, into a twisted cloud of black smoke that fed on the evils of their world?

But the thing that had bugged Sam the most of all had been the one thing he hadn't expected. The feeling of uselessness. He had been unable to defend Dean from the one thing he had sworn he would.

"You're not going to die. You're not going to Hell." His own word, his own promise, rolled on, over and over in his mind. He hadn't made it true. He had failed. But that's what Sammy Winchester did after all. Failed the people he cared about most in the tightest situations when they needed him. He brought Hell fire into their lives.

He failed Jess. He failed his father. He failed his mother. He had doomed everyone around him to their deaths. Even before his own birth, his grandparents had been killed because of him.

But Dean had always stuck with him. And through thick and thin, Sam and Dean had been an unstoppable force. Looking out for one another. Saving each other's asses more times than he could count. And he'd lost track. Long ago, actually.

But then it happened. Sam failed him. He got himself stabbed. His élan left his body. He left Dean. Alone. But instead of leaving Sam to rest, Dean brought him back. Back to endless faces which he couldn't save. Back to learn his own life was being brought back in exchange for the one person who had never failed him. At the cost of his blood. His life.

Sam wondered for a moment if Dean saw what he did. Endless cycles as the scene of Sam's own death playing in his head the way Dean's plagued Sam.

Sam had been determined afterwards to bring Dean back or lessen his sentence. Anything. He had taken to heart what Dean had said though. No more deals involving Hell. But that didn't mean he couldn't make other deals. Ruby had also hinted that if he killed Lilith, Dean's soul might go free from its chains in Hell. Might.

But Sam had done nothing. It was those angels. Why had they taken so long though? Why had they not bothered to break Dean's deal? It would have save them both a heck of a lot of strife. Why had they waited so long to save him? Four months in Hell, even if Dean claimed he couldn't remember, were always written on his face.

Noticeable changes had also happened. Dean seemed more serious, though only by a small degree. And he had nightmares. Dean wasn't the kind of person to be scared of such things, but since Hell, he barely slept without waking up with a start, often fighting and yelling at unseen things. It really made Sam wonder what had happened.

Sam sighed. He needed to stop doing this to himself. To stop continuously thinking about such things. Dean was back from Hell. Sam should be happy. Should be satisfied. But no matter how much wanted to ignore himself, visions of blood drenching his hand hit him… he wasn't satisfied…

A flash of motion returned Sam's attentions to the real world. The sky had gone dark as clouds rolled in over the moon. The wind had picked up, swirling the now-dull mists in their own miniature whirlwinds. The smell of mildew mixed with salt coated the air.

Water splashed across the ship's side provided the only sound other than Sam's pounding heart. He could feel his head spinning, the word "danger" lit-up like a neon sign in his mind.

His eyes flashed around, hoping their plan would be good enough. He hoped Adrya would not fail him…His eyes darted toward the left side of the captain's cabin, a knot of apprehension twisting in his stomach.

A simple, small shell lay there, out in the open. A small crack down the center demonstrated how tender the shell was. It would seem nothing to the unobservant eye, but Sam knew better. It was just what he was looking for…

A low drone suddenly filled the air. Sam threw his hand up to his ears instantaneously, dropping to his knees. The drone intensified slightly as Sam collapsed the rest of the way, trying his best to not stop no matter how tiring his exaggerated emotions had to be.

He let his body thrash, a fresh layer of sweat dripping anew from his brow to mix with the haze above him. He yelled, his voice filled with feigned pain.

He began to move himself very strategically toward the mast. The drone kept on, but he could not be sure how long he could use the cover the sound provided without giving away his charade.

Soon his head found purchase on the great post. He grunted as it hit, pain erupting from the back of his head. Still, it was not loud enough. Not convincing enough. With one mighty stroke, Sam brought his head down once more on the post, not disappointed to hear a loud crack as his head throbbed with pain.

Instantaneously, he dropped his body. The fake convulsing stopped. His arms were sprawled out across the deck, one of them twisting uncomfortable to the side. He could feel something prodding his side and sometime during his display, a sliver slipped into his thumb. His potion was awkward at best. But he dared not move. Not as his ears picked up sound.

Light footsteps. From all sides. They were here. They'd fallen for it…

The chill was constant. Gnawing, biting, sharp. No matter what he did, it was still ever present. He doubted even if he could build a fire it would do any good.

At least he'd be able to see though. It was near impossible to tell if his eyes were opened or closed most of the time.

After a few hours, it became evident that Bella had drugged him at some point and time. Dean felt worse than he had a week ago after wasting the day away drinking a mix of vodka and beer. After the buzz was gone, it felt as if he had been puking out his insides. This feeling was just as bad if not worse.

The wet floor before him was slick. This much he'd learned after he'd tried to fumble around his cell, hanging on to the scarce hope that the demon had been cocky and left something out in the open. Instead he'd fallen flat on his face. He could still feel a light sting coming from his left knee.

Ever since, he'd barely moved, just listened. The main sound which greeted his ears was the drip-drip-drip of the stalactites on the ceiling as they slowly grew to meet their counterparts on the cave floor. Occasionally he heard a stone shift or even once or twice distant footfalls. But mostly, it was just the dripping.

In the absence of anything else to do, Dean tried to avoid thinking about anything. In general, he miserably failed. Flashes of eyes alight in hellfire. Tortured screams filling his mind, both his own and other damned souls.

Why did he get another chance?

It had been a constant question on his mind. No matter what Sam or anyone else told him, he still didn't feel like he should be here. He should be rotting in Hell still. Or maybe like Bella he should be a demon, though he doubted he could be turned as fast as she was.

It was a truly strange feeling, knowing that the girl he had met mere months after selling his soul was now the creature he hunted, a demon. She had been the girl he was most confused about. She had been the bitch who stole the rabbit's foot from Sam and almost got him killed. She had been the hottest girl he'd ever known. But she'd tricked them, betrayed their trusted and stolen the one thing that could have saved her and Dean. And it would have. But instead she let herself go to Hell.

Hell…

The word sent a familiar cold chill down his spine. No matter how hard he tried not to think of it, it still crept up on him, into his waking hours. He could still see flashes of hellfire, the torment of the black shadows called demons. The hooks in caught in his flash and a searing pain. His worst nightmares materialized in front of him…

Yes, he remembered Hell. It tasted a lie when he claimed he didn't. How could he ever forget such an experience? To say he forgot it would be like saying you forgot you lost your leg. Hell was a part of him now. It was a part of his identity, part of his soul.

He'd never really fully appreciated what his father had done for him, going to Hell on the spot like that. Sure he had an idea what it meant but he never fully understood. Until now. All the pain, all the anguish. Every moment in Hell was worse than drowning on earth and hurt more than being skinned alive. A second in Hell seemed like a month on earth. Not a friend in sight, only endless dark, terrible figures on demons.

He had recognized some of them even. Demons he himself had returned to hell come to torment the humanity out of him, to switch him into a demon just as they were.

Dean shook off his thoughts. Angst could wait. Right now, he needed to get out and warn Sam about the demonic sirens. He took a moment to ponder how weird that was.

Cautiously so he wouldn't slip again, Dean rose and extended his hands out so that he wouldn't run into the bars ahead. With calculated steps, he moved forward; with each step a soft slosh from the wet earth greeted his ears.

His hands met cold metal and he grasped it, the condensation on the moderately thick bars sending chills down his spine. He ran his hands upwards, trying to gauge how tall it was and if there was any way he could climb over. Standing on the ball of his foot, he still hadn't reached the to and he couldn't reach any higher. After all, he wasn't a fucking ballerina.

He let out a deep sigh. There goes one idea. Fortunately, he had a heck of a lot more than one idea. He dropped down and felt the cave floor. He hadn't expected it to be anything less than what it was though, hard. Made of cold slate.

No digging out obviously. And he had no tools other than Ruby's knife to get himself out…

A thought suddenly struck him. He slipped out the dagger, the hilt warm from his skin. With an almighty lunge, he plunged the dagger down with a moderate amount of force. But it was enough, he realized as a pleasant crack hit his ears. He reached down and was not disappointed to feel the slate had split into large pieces. He scraped one out, heedless of its jagged edges splitting the skin on his fingers. It was a sizable piece. He grinned to himself as he placed it by the bars and set about retrieving the next one…

Light flashed behind his eyelids, coming off a bloody color. The sound of water sloshing around was the only other real thing to meet his senses, besides a few random whispers coming his captors. It took all the control he had to keep from flinging his eyes open every time an icy hand brushed his or he heard someone whisper something about him.

Fortunately, all they did was tie his limbs together loosely; they didn't knock him out further and they were fairly gentle when handling him. He thought to himself silently that he would make their deaths quick and painless as he clutched his hidden weapon closer to his flesh.

He could hear Adrya's voice every so often and had to struggle to remain blank and emotionless. It was good that she had made it in; that way, if something went wrong, Sam would always have her to back him up. Despite himself, he had really come to trust and respect the siren. She was a bitch and way too serious, but she was also straightforward and honest.

He gritted his teeth slightly as the boat they were in collided with the shoreline. Once more, cold hands gripped him and he almost thought about waking so that he could avoid the feel of them gripping both his shoulders and his knees. One of the hands gave the lightest squeeze, so subtle it would be uncatchable to the naked eye.

He could feel the change in the air, sounds, and the feel of the sirens' paces changing as they shifted from the dock to the beach to the cave. Even less light hit his eyes now, all of it coming from, he knew, torches.

For the longest time, he put up with the awkward positioning his body and an irritable itch on his nose. The cold hands and his shirt scrunched up on his back, exposing skin to the chill of the cave did not help.

"Get your salty fins off my brother." Dean's voice suddenly snapped.

Out of nowhere, Sam suddenly crashed to the floor as a loud series of grunts and metal on metal hit his ears. His eyes snapped open as Adrya ripped off the bounds on his hands.

"Finish untying yourself." She yelled as she turned to face the other four sirens. Sam wasted no time slinging the bonds off his legs. Between Dean and Adrya, the sirens had their hands full, both wildly swinging. Luckily Dean seemed to see that she was on their side. But even still, it was pretty hard to tell her apart from the rest of them. Each looked very similar to her eve though their eyes were much different and he knew Adrya had no direct family left. Sam drew his weapon and rushed forward.

A male siren met him with a great lunge. His dagger whizzed toward him wildly. He turned away from the blow barely in time as a rip hit his ears and he felt the cold wind his flailing limb created hit exposed skin. The left side of his shit had been ripped horizontally.

He retaliated, plunging his short dagger forward in one skilled motion. The siren ducked down, effortlessly evading his attack. Sam adjusted his trajectory downward accordingly and the man somersaulted out of the wary, though not fast enough to avoid a haircut. He slashed at Sam's ankle as he slid under, landing on the opposite end. Sam grimaced as he felt the onset of a headache and knew that wound would not last more than a second. He vaguely saw Dean growl in frustration as he saw his little brother double over from the wound.

He didn't let it last for more than a second, springing back up. He shifted into a sturdy stance which favored his right ankle to give his left time to heal stance. The siren looked rather pleased with himself, lightly panting. He gave a cocky smile and strode forward as if he had all the authority of death itself. He took such slow, dramatic steps, and Sam feigned intimidation. His ankle burned as new skin covered it.

The siren took another dramatized step but the instant he did, Sam rushed him with renewed vigor. In an instant, Sam was on him, forcing the man to frantically parry his blows for his life. Sam got in many great thrusts, covering his opponent with bruises and cuts while not receiving any of his own.

With one particularly powerful downward thrush, Sam disarmed his opponent and cut off one of his finger. A cry of anguish escaped his lips as blood gushed out, turning the slippery ground red. Sam advanced on him, ready to finish it as the crimson blood poured out, squirting on his pants in tune with his heart.

As if on cue, another siren flipped to the first's side, her weapon much bigger than Sam's. He backed off, using his long arm to his advantage. Satisfied, the male siren retrieved his weapon, covered his wound, and slipped into the background while the girl continued her assault on Sam.

Sam pushed away. There was no way he could get in any attack with out getting as much as he dealt out. She was not as skilled with her weapon, but it didn't matter. He slipped away, catching his breath for a moment whilst the siren gradually made her advance.

Sam took a moment to look to his side at his brother, who was near on the other side of the cave, barley visible behind a rather muscular female siren. She seemed like more than enough for him, but even in the tense situation, Dean caught Sam's eyes on him and flashed a quick, cocky grin before yelling. "Come and get it you bitch!"

Sam suddenly thought of something and slipped further away from his attacker, scrambling towards the back wall. She was close on his heels and he didn't get long, but it was long enough. He extended his palm, holding her suspended right where he was.

"Let me go." She hissed at him, her sapphire eyes flashing in anger and her pointed teeth bared. He gave her a look.

"Nah, I like you where you are."

"You cheat…"

"Hey, it's not like this isn't a fair fight." Sam answered. "You have your singing and water thing and I have this." He gave her a grim smile as she struggled against his power. His head throbbed slightly as her protests grew. He quickly ended them, hitting her jaw with all the might he could muster. Any harder and it may have broken his fist.

Sam panted a little and wiped a small amount of blood away from his nose as he turned back towards the fight. He wasted no more time and joined the two, who were encircled by the sirens back-to-back fighting.

"Took you long enough Sammy." Both said in unison as he rushed in, taking one of the sirens off guard.

"Dean's the only one allowed to call me that." Sam muttered as he took another lunge at the female siren he was fighting.

"Whatever." Adrya answered, her attentions really on the male.

"Would you two stop flirting?" Dean growled

"We're not flirting!" Sam and Adrya jinxed. "She's not my type." Sam went on. He grunted as the siren gave a particularly hard blow, almost sending him backwards.

Sam's head was pounding and he was just about ready to cave when suddenly he gained some leeway on his adversary. His blade cleaved her hip and she near doubled over. No sooner than she did he kicked the blade out of her hand and held her by the throat.

Dean had his cornered and Adrya's was dead; said siren was busy wiping her blade on a cloth. Sam was just about ready to kill her and leave when a humming sound suddenly filled the air. He was about to dismiss it when he heard Dean yelled.

"Shit!" Sam cursed as he realized what was happening. They'd forgotten! How could they have forgotten? His attentions went to Dean, who had his hands at his ears and was just about reeling from the terrible sound. The siren in front of him lashed out, his fist hitting Dean in the gut; Dean doubled over in pain. In one swift motion he kicked Dean the rest of the way off his feet and Dean's head hit the ground with a sickening crack.

"NO!" Sam screamed. The siren before him attempted something to a similar effect but instead of knocking him of his feet, she pissed him off. With one swipe, her head was gone and he flew towards Dean's attacker, murder in his eyes.

The siren grabbed his brother and the knife quickly, holding him for dear life as a fellow siren—the same one he'd knocked out earlier—came to her side.

"Don't take another step, tiger." The one holding Dean growled, her voice like ice-cold water. "If you value your brother's life, not another step." Sam could see Dean's chest as it rose and fell, and stood motionless, at a loss for what to do as a twisted smile crossed her face. "Good boy."

The one standing grinned. "Not a fair fight, remember?"

Sam glanced at Adrya, hoping she had some answer. She had an odd, detached on her face. He looked back at Dean desperately, then at the twisted-faced siren approaching him to take his knife. He couldn't let this happen. Not when they were so close to getting out…

The torches were suddenly blaring like strobe lights, flashing on and off rapidly. He smiled as he realized it was Adrya. The torched flashed off, holding on for just enough time that Sam was able to rush past the siren, slicing deep into her side as he passed, doing a somersault and landing next to the other one. He reached for her neck, slamming her backwards to the wall with his dagger poised for attack as the lights evened out.

"Let. Him. Go." He said, punctuating each word with a violent shake. The siren's crystalline blue eyes flashed with fear. She let Dean's limp body roll off her lap and nervously pushed her light copper hair back. With in a half a second, Adrya was there and took over Sam's position.

Sam turned his attentions to Dean. A dark blood had mattered his hair to his scalp where his head hit the pavement. Overall, Dean looked pretty much okay other than that. Both his knees were exposed and two fairly fresh scabs covered his knees and his cloths and skin were matted with mud and dirt. He had one knick on his shoulder and his nose was pretty scraped up from the impact, but other than that, he really had looked much worse for where before.

Adrya cleared her throat. "We should get going."

"What do we do with her?"

"I don't really know my way around here…she could lead us to the rest of them."

"I need to get him out of here. He won't be any good to us and I don't want anything to happen to him." Sam said, looking down at his brother.

"Look Sam. They probably already know you are here. And if they don't, they will once they find these or that their prisoner is missing. He's no safer out there alone than he is with us."

"But he might have a concussion…" Sam replied, his argument waning.

"And what good would it do you to bring him out now? Neptune's Song will be looking for you and their prisoner. You leave him anywhere and they will find him. Believe me they will. And then we'll be back to square one. You try to stay with him and protect him and they get you both. The only way to do this right is to take care of it now, Sam. When you still have a little bit of surprise."

"Okay…" Sam agreed grudgingly. He was really beginning to hate her for her cynical reasonability.

Never the less, they bound the siren and stuck a charm on Dean just in case, so that if he woke, the siren song would not effect him. Sam struggled to get Dean's body over his shoulder in a way that was easy to move but wouldn't look completely and utterly wrong to Dean when he awoke. He was dismayed to find maneuverability and the look of it could not coincide peacefully.

Adrya chortled as she looked over to see Dean's hands practically touching Sam's butt and his leg tied loosely like a shoulder bag to Sam. He whacked her lightly in the arm. Why couldn't she be serious like she usually was?

Adrya gripped the siren close, keeping a knife at her neck as Sam secured his own in a safe place and grasped the hilt of Ruby's dagger. When Sam finally nodded at her, Adrya hissed into the siren's ear.

"Listen. You are going to tell us where to go. And if you are a good little sea-witch, we'll let you go when this is over. And if you are not, well…I'll let you use your imagination." She said as she stuffed the gag past her shell-shaped lips.

Sam grabbed a torch from the ground. And the group left off into the darkness.

I actually loved writing that fight scene. Jeeze it was fun. I got all amped up on the Pirates of the Caribbean remix. Damn awesome song.