A/N: Are people even enjoying this?
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Advent - December 10th
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Dean stares at the daimons, perplexed.
They're not doing anything. They're not even tensing or getting ready to fight which, apparently, should be the norm for them. Well, according to Ash and whatever Sam's managed to get into his head anyway.
Because the only first-hand knowledge Dean has of them is from the alley scuffle, and he's not very impressed with the whole idea of daimons being the scourge of the earth from that.
In fact, despite daimons munching on human souls, Dean thinks that he's gone up against far worse things.
These daimons seem to be different though, more like warriors. That is if warriors were decided by height and muscle definition as they're all taller than Dean and how is that fair? Dean thinks that he's going to develop a complex about his height sooner or later because, while he's taller than most, ever since he died he's been surrounded by giants.
They're all ridiculously blond as well.
And all men which, Dean thinks, is hardly making a dint in the gender-equality and oh my god he's been hanging around Sam too much.
That's it. As soon as they're done kicking these daimons asses he's going to get his own bedroom.
He sounds like a petulant teenager.
Dean doesn't really care.
But there's something wrong. These daimons aren't really doing anything. Still.
They're just standing there.
They haven't even bent their knees like they're bracing for an attack or preparing to pounce or anything.
Dean thinks that maybe he should be insulted by that. That these twelve men think that he's not worth the bother of preparing to fight. That he can be taken out so easily by a rookie move or something.
Dean knows that he hasn't been a dark hunter long, but he knows how to fight.
And he definitely knows how to whoop monster asses. And by that he means take them out and or kill them. He doesn't get freaky with them. Unless they're possibly hot chicks. Or succubi or something because man-
Okay. Off topic.
Way off topic.
And the daimons hadn't even taken advantage of his wandering mind! Okay. Definitely pissed off now.
Dean reaches to the small of his back where he's been keeping a wicked looking knife ever since the first run in with a daimon and the subsequent death of Sandy.
The metal almost hums in his hand and if Dean wasn't absolutely sure, he would have thought that this was another of his powers. But it's not, because it's always been like this. He's always been good with a knife, especially when facing something that needs to die.
He should probably be worried about that, Dean thinks, about how the cold steel practically talks to him, telling him where to strike for a killing blow.
But honestly, he doesn't know if that's because he was raised a hunter, and it's his finely tuned instincts that are whispering to him, or not.
If this was another life, then Dean doesn't know if what the FBI was saying about him would be all that wrong. Except, yes they would because while Dean knows how to hunt and to kill, he'd never go after an innocent.
Hell, he puts his life at risk every single day since before he even knew what girls were to keep them safe.
He does this for a reason. He has to keep reminding himself of that.
There's a purpose, a higher purpose, which he's playing to here. And Dean has the feeling that he's playing blind right now, but it'll all be okay in the end.
And maybe it's this realisation, or maybe it's the silent conversation he had with Sandy, but for the first time in over twenty years, Dean feels like he isn't so alone anymore. That there's something watching over him, keeping him safe.
Which is ridiculous because Dean already knows this. Ash is standing right beside him, futilely trying to push Sam to safety behind him.
Dean snorts in amusement but doesn't take his eyes off the Strati as Ash called them.
Yeah, Ash'll need a whole lot of luck to keep Sam where he wants him.
"Dean." Sam says as he steps up next to his brother, his own weapon in hand and oh man is Dean glad this is an empty street because with the kinds of things being brandished about right now there is no doubt in Dean's mind that they'd be arrested for sure.
Even so, Dean finds it funny that even Ash can't keep his brother wrapped up tight in cotton wool.
Yeah, because Dean and his father learnt the hard way that what Sam wants, Sam does and there's no force in heaven or hell that can keep it from him.
And, just to make sure that the odds are even, the same goes for Dean in relation to Sam.
Dean can't help the grin, nor the quick glance over to Ash to see him wearing a bitch-face.
It's subtle, but it's there.
Dean wonders if maybe he should separate Sam and Ash because they're obviously learning bad habits from each other and oh god why does Dean classify Ash as another annoying little brother?
It's wrong on so many levels. Dean doesn't need another younger brother. He's had his hands full for that last twenty odd years dealing with Sam.
In fact, he's still dealing with Sam now so yeah, no more younger brothers needed thanks.
Only it doesn't seem like anyone up there is paying attention because Dean automatically steps forward in front of both Sam and Ash, taking point and drawing the Strati's attention to him instead of the two giants behind him.
It's kind of a miracle but Dean isn't going to complain.
The movement also seems to break whatever relaxed thing the daimons have going for them as they finally tense, pulling out their weapons. They hold them casually, but Dean can see the competence in their movements.
These aren't like the daimon he's already faced. These are warriors and they know what they're doing.
And, if what Ash and Sam have told him is correct, and these are immortal, then they've had who knows how many years to practice.
Dean almost feels inadequate for a moment.
But he's been outnumbered by things with more power than him before and he's won out then. He'll do so again.
Mainly because he doesn't know how to fail.
And everything that seems like failing is just a tactical retreat.
Losing battles and winning wars and all that.
One of the daimons from the middle of the group steps forward a little and nods at Dean. "Dark Hunter." He says conversationally.
Dean doesn't know what kind of game they're playing but it's a rare occurrence for the bad guys to be polite. He raises his chin and an eyebrow.
"Scum sucker." Dean replies.
The leader chuckles and Dean's grip on his knife tightens for a brief moment.
"Now, now." He says, pulling out his own knife in retaliation, "there's no need for name calling. What kind of manners did your mother teach you?"
Dean doesn't even bother to respond. He just leaps forward, weapon in hand, ready to do as much damage as he possibly can.
The daimons surge forward to meet him halfway and Dean has the impression of one soul, split twelve times and the most ridiculous 'I am Legion' quote echoes in his head, before metal striking metal jars his hand.
Then he's left with impressions.
It's loud. Daimons are yelling and Sam and Ash are snarking back but Dean can't pick out individual words. It's all blurring into one mess of continual sound and he doesn't know why no one else is coming to investigate this or why he can't here cop cars because surely someone else can here this.
And there's gold.
So much gold.
From swirling hair – and why did daimons have to have such long hair anyway? To the light glinting off their armour, to the clouds of dust they explode into when one of Dean's team get in a lucky shot.
Dean catches a swipe with his blade that would have taken out his eyes and kicks the daimon in the crotch.
Hey, no one said he had to play nice.
The daimon curls over in a grunt of pain - guess that hurts no matter what you were – just in time to see Sam shoot another one in the chest with a shotgun.
Dean has no idea where Sam got a shotgun from.
The daimon explodes so Dean doesn't worry about it too much. Other than the fact that Sam is now in the thick of it and has drawn attention to himself and Dean doesn't have his back.
Bit like normal then, really.
Honestly, Dean doesn't know how Sam ever managed four years alone at college without anything happening to him because he's a freaking trouble magnet.
Dean knows. Sam usually drags him into his things and then they become Dean's things. And then Dean has to deal with it because that's what he does.
And Sam doesn't even notice half the time.
Not the oh holy crap things are trying to eat me. Or the woo! Dean's here to save the day again!
But just the general whoops, this is all my fault. My bad, Dean. I'll buy you a truck-load of pie to make up for it.
God, if that actually happened, Dean thinks that the apocalypse will happen.
Dean gets so caught up in his imaginings that he drops his guard for a moment and a daimon decides to take a lucky shot at him.
It's the leader, the one who seems to know who Dean is. He's crouching, under Dean's practically non-existent guard and springing up, knife flashing in the streetlights.
Dean can only think oh fuck when the daimon halts mid-thrust.
His eyes widen and Dean has absolutely no clue why until there's a bright flash of light and another guy decides to join the party out of freaking mid-air.
Seriously, one moment there's nothing next to Dean, the next there's a guy in a trench coat standing protectively in front of him with a punishing grip on the daimons wrist.
The daimon is looking terrified so Dean has no idea what the guys face must look like, but if it can inspire that level of terror then he's not sure he wants the man to turn around.
Even if he did save him.
"No." The man says and Dean finds another reason to be grateful that the man isn't looking at him, because if he was then he would have seen the shiver that crawls down Dean's spine at the sound of his voice.
Totally inappropriate thoughts in the middle of battle are inappropriate.
Dean doesn't have long to muse on said inappropriate thoughts because he's suddenly watching the daimon going flying backwards, out past Ash – who just decimates two other daimons with some sort of force field.
Dean's just sort of staring in bemusement at the flight path of the air born daimon, when the guy turns to face Dean at last.
Dean chokes.
And really, he has a right to choke because that whole power-sensing ability is kicking in pretty well. The man is strong. And not just strong in the way he blasted a guy across the street. Strong in the level of power kind of way.
Electricity crackles in the air and across Dean's tongue. His breath starts to come in short pants as he fights against the pressure of all that power.
The man is also glowing.
From the inside out, like his body can't contain the light. Dean can barely see a set of clear blue eyes staring at him because of it.
And he has wings.
Can't forget about the wings.
"Dean Winchester." The man says quietly, like they're not standing in the middle of a fight.
"Uh, yeah?" Because Dean's smooth like that.
The man frowns and for a moment Dean thinks he looks lost. He glances around as if he's just now noticed that Ash and Sam are kicking ass and taking daimon names.
"I-" He starts, and then his eyes fall on Dean's tattoo and widen dramatically. The power around him flares brighter and Dean can see his wings flutter in surprise.
He opens his mouth and then closes it with a snap. Then, with one last look thrown in Dean's direction, disappears again.
Dean stands there, shaken. Dean can't be sure, but he thinks that the guy was betrayed by Dean's tattoo.
Which means…Dean has no idea what it means. Also, not really the time to be thinking about it.
He turns his attention back to the fight to see that it's already ended.
Ash and Sam are standing close by. Ash looks perfect as usual, but Sam's panting like he's just run a marathon. They still have their weapons up so Dean glances over to what they're staring at.
There's another hole in the air and the daimons have gathered on the other side. Well, what's left of them anyway.
Seems like Ash and Sam had been busy while Dean was having his brain stop and start by a knight in pearly glowing wings.
"What? No encore?" Dean asks with a smirk.
The leader, who looked pretty good for being blasted across the street, smiles "Unfortunately not." He says with an elegant shrug.
"What?" Dean says, "That's a bit disappointing, I'd've thought that you'd put up more of a fight than this."
The daimon shrugs again. "We don't need to fight anymore. We were just the distraction. Have fun at the hospital."
The bolthole closes with a crackle, but not before Dean notices the leader sending him a searching look.
Dean can't be bothered about that though, because distraction means there was another attack that they'd completely missed. And that comment about the hospital…
Dean checks Sam and Ash to find them mostly unhurt – just a few bumps and bruises.
Fuck. They've attacked the hospital.
Sam seems to have worked it out too, as he's turned to Dean with a tortured expression in his eyes.
"Dean!"
"I know!" Dean snaps back because Jesus Christ he hates smart enemies.
He doesn't know what he's going to do as the Impala is still parked outside their apartment, probably run to the hospital, when Ash grabs an arm.
With a blink of his eyes, Dean finds himself standing in the lobby of the hospital. Or at least he thinks it's the hospital because it looks more like a warzone.
Jesus.
There's screaming and panicking humans everywhere, huddling together and running out the front door. In the distance Dean can hear sirens getting louder and louder but they're not close enough and they're probably not going to get here in time.
Nurses and doctors are helping some of the patients that can move out of the building. But it's hard going as the floor and walls are literally painted with blood. And Dean can taste it every time he breathes in. It's lying thick across his tongue and the back of his throat and he wants to gag. Wants to claw at his mouth until he can't taste death.
Dean can see people with their throats, among other things, torn out. Some of them are still twitching and people are helping. It doesn't seem to matter if they're in the medical profession or not – if they can stand and are uninjured they're helping.
"Oh God," Sam chokes out beside him.
"Fuck." Dean says and wonders how many daimons are currently loose in the building. And, for that matter, where they all are because they're not here right not.
There's a long, high-pitched scream from deeper in the building and Dean takes an abortive step forward. His foot skids a little and he refuses to look down to see what he's just stepped in, even though he's got a pretty good idea anyway.
"Okay, split up." Ash says quickly, taking charge. "Dean, you're on your own. Sam you're with me."
To his credit, Sam doesn't even complain at not being with Dean. He just nods and hefts the shotgun higher.
"After you." He says to Ash.
Ash nods to Dean and jogs down a corridor, Sam following.
Dean decides to go up and eyes the lift warily before taking the stairs.
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Upstairs isn't any better.
In fact, it's a whole lot worse.
After Dean checks the third room, only to find people literally torn apart in their beds, he stops.
He just can't handle seeing that.
Instead he trusts his sensing ability to lead him to the nearest daimon. It turns out there's a group of three of them, struggling to get into a room.
Dean's momentarily confused until he moves closer and sees that a doctor is standing in the doorway and is beating them back with whatever she can get her hands on.
There are children crying behind her.
She's torn up and Dean has no idea how long she's been protecting the kids, but she's wearing the most viciously beautiful snarl on her face and is yelling a stream of continual abuse and challenges at the daimons.
The daimons are snarling back, but they've been unable to pass her so far and she's even managed to deal them a little damage.
Dean thinks that he maybe falls in love with her a little bit.
One of the daimons seems to get fed up with the lack of progress and he charges her, tackling her to the floor and clearing the way for his brothers to enter the room.
The woman screams in defiance and starts to beat at his face, refusing to let go, even when he sinks his fangs into her neck.
The children start to scream in earnest. A thin high-pitched wailing of terror.
Dean sees red pretty quickly and, without even thinking about it, his knife is out and flashing. He plunges it into the inkspot of one of the daimons without them even noticing he was there. It explodes in a cloud of gold which draws the attention of the second one who lets out a yell and jumps at Dean.
Dean can't bring his knife up quickly enough but rolls with the tackle and comes out straddling the man. He quickly stabs down before the daimon can think to buck him off and the second turns to dust beneath him.
Dean turns to see the third clambering off the doctor, wiping its mouth on the back of its hand.
Dean feels sick, but then the doctor twitches a little and chokes.
"Dark hunter." It says as it begins to smirk.
Dean ignores him and now it's his turn to launch himself across the corridor. The daimon looks startled at the sudden movement but quickly rallies round and meets Dean halfway.
The fight is quick and brutal and Dean pumps most of his rage into it, so he's not very shocked when the daimon explodes into gold in front of him. But he hardly has time to feel happy about it because he's running to the doorway and skidding to his knees.
The doctor is still alive, pressing a hand to her wound to try and staunch the bleeding.
The daimon wasn't neat and she seems to know it. It's all there in her eyes as Dean presses his hand against her neck as well.
She chokes and mouths something, but Dean can't hear or make it out and then she's dead and Dean doesn't know what she was trying to say.
He swallows the lump in his throat and looks into the room. Ten eyes stare back from young faces aged between six and twelve.
Fuck.
The kids ward.
They're huddled together and pale and tear-stained but one of the older ones is standing a little way in front of the others, holding a pen tightly in his hand as a weapon. He's blond and green-eyed and Dean flash-backs to himself so hard that he doesn't notice someone at the other end of the hall until they're moving towards him.
He springs to his feet, body tense, and knife slipping in his hand, with only one thought going through his mind. Protect the kids.
But it's Sam. Sam's there. He's come up the other set of staircases with Ash and Dean feels relieved so much that his vision almost blacks out. But there's a flutter, and Dean sees wings out of the corner of his eye.
His stomach flips when he thinks it might be the man again, but no. This time it's a woman, draped in white and looking straight at Dean with sorrow in her eyes.
Dean blinks and glances to Sam, to see if he's spotted the woman and knows what she is because she seems familiar but Dean can't place her right now, but Sam is still heading towards him.
And then Sam's face falls and his eyes widen and he's yelling out Dean's name. But Dean can't concentrate because there's a stabbing pain in his chest and the children are screaming again.
He gasps and looks down, to see what the problem is, and has to blink a few times because there is a knife piercing his heart.