Author's note:
Castiel finally appears, woohoo.
Chapter Four
"Sam, Dean, wake up," said John and threw the morning paper at Sam who woke up with a flinch.
"What time is it?" asked Dean, yawning.
"Read the headline." John retrieved his journal from their green duffel and started to flip through the pages, "something isn't right."
Dean watched Sam's eyes scan the article on the front of the newspaper, a small crease forming between his brows, "what?" said Dean impatiently.
"Never heard of a virus that could do that," said Sam and looked up at John. John nodded, "6 deaths within the last couple of weeks, no connections between the vics, well, aside from them all living in the same town".
"Well don't mind me," said Dean and fluffed his pillow.
Sam rolled his eyes and began to explain, "between December 28, 2000, and January 7, 2001, 6 people have died mysteriously in small town Brooklin, Maine. Local police have ruled out crime, but suspect some kind of severe, previously unknown, influenza virus, as the victims all showed the same symptoms prior to their death," Sam glanced at Dean from behind the newspaper and continued, "periods of extreme paranoia, night terror, anemia, fever, cramps, and hallucinations-"
"And you think this is our kind of thing because?" asked Dean.
"I'm not done," said Sam, "it says here that 4 of the victims mumbled something about a 'dark shadow' in their head-"
"And then they all died shortly after," finished John.
"So what, you think it could be some kinda curse?" said Dean.
"If it's a curse then there'll be nothing to do," added Sam and looked at John.
"I'm not sure. No matter what we've gotta check it out," said John, "get packing".
They arrived in Brooklin 5 hours later. Dean winced as he stepped out of the Impala and sank through a thick layer of snow covering the street.
"You telling me 6 people died in this tiny ass town the last two weeks?" asked Dean, "What is this, Cabot Cove?"
Sam zipped his coat, ignoring Dean's comment, "maybe we should split up," he said.
John nodded, "we need to figure out the source of the outbreak. Sam, Dean, go look around, I'll check out the bodies."
John opened the Impala's trunk and handed Sam and Dean a pair of fake badges and the duffel. "Call me if you find anything. If it's a curse we need to evacuate before anyone dies again."
John reentered the car, nodded at Sam and Dean and took off.
When John was out of sight Dean turned towards Sam and shivered, "we're gonna freeze to death".
"Quit complaining," said Sam and pointed at the general store across the street, "let's see if anyone's in."
The bell chimed as they entered the small general store.
"Maine. Home of the blueberry pie," said Dean. He smiled at Sam and walked up to the counter where lines of freshly baked pie were stacked high on each other, filling the store with a sweet scent.
"I thought you liked apple?," said Sam, but Dean didn't hear him; too busy picking out the perfect one.
"Don't you think this a little over the top?" asked Sam and eyed the 20-some pies.
"Top awesome you mean," said Dean and searched his pockets for money.
"I doubt that many people come by"
"Yeah, well, lucky I came by then"
"Wouldn't eat them if I was you," said Sam.
"Ahw, come on, no one would ever do that to-"
Sam gave Dean a stern look and pulled him towards the magazine stand, where a teenage girl with a nametag reading 'Maria Hansen' was unboxing the latest issue of the weekly paper.
"Hey," said Sam. The girl jumped violently and cut her finger on the utility knife, "oh! Didn't see you there", she said and stuffed her bleeding thumb into her mouth. She tried to pick the knife up from the floor but her hands were shaky and she kept dropping it.
"Are you alright?" asked Sam and picked up the knife. When their hands touched he noticed how cold her hands were, despite the store being comfortably warm.
"Just a lil' tired - you lookin for anything?" she said absentmindedly. She tugged a lock of hair behind her ear and continued to place the fresh papers in the holder.
Sam pointed at a newspaper that read 'Mysterious Brooklin flu outbreak claims another victim', "it's terrible, huh? All those deaths," he said.
The teenager bit her lip, "took my poor granny".
"I'm so sorry," said Sam and took a small break before he continued, "so you believe what they say - that it's the flu?"
"What do you mean? That's what the doctor said".
Sam removed a glass of canned something from the shelf, trying to seem casual, "so you haven't seen anything strange?"
"Strange?"
"Yenno, cold spots, flashing lights, anything like that?" Dean cut in.
"It's cold everywhere," she said and looked at Dean as if she had just noticed him standing there.
"Right," said Dean, "your grandma, before she died, everything was just - normal?"
The girl seemed to be considering the question before she answered, "it was so sudden. She was fine in the morning but…"
"But?" asked Sam
"But when she came home from the market she just… got sick... fever, cramps and then she… you know. She must have been sick for days though, the doctor says"
Sam locked eyes with Dean for a moment before he asked, "this market, where is it?"
"Down the harbor. We pick up fish for the store there - got the best lobster in summer".
"Thanks", said Sam, "and uhm, Maria, your grandma, she didn't have any hallucinations did she?"
Maria looked up at Sam with big, tired, blue eyes. "no!," she stuttered, "d-did you want anything?"
Sam picked up a newspaper and tried to give her a reassuring smile.
"And one of those pies," said Dean.
When Sam paid for the newspaper and Dean's pie, he thought he saw Maria's eyes flicker to something behind his shoulder. He turned around, but nothing was there. Maria almost threw the remaining cash at Sam before she waved and said, "have a good day!"
"Did you smell that?" asked Sam as they left the store.
"Smell what?" said Dean.
"Her"
"Not that desperate"
"No I mean", Sam sent Dean a disapproving look, "she smelled rotten", Sam lifted the newspaper to his face and breathed in, "see, this has the same smell", he said and shoved the paper at Dean, who quickly pushed it away in disgust.
"The hell?"
"I think that's what the pies were for. Covering up the smell"
"You think that Maria girl caught… whatever this is?"
"It's possible," said Sam, "we better check that fish market out"
With John having taken the Impala, Sam and Dean had to plow through the thick snow. What should have been a short 10 minute walk ended up taking at least 10 more, as they, on top of everything, had to wait for a wide tractor to get through the ongoing road construction.
'The market' was not so much a market as it was three small houses. Outside one of the houses an elderly man was trying to subdue a dog that was barking aggressively. "Stop it will ya!" he yelled. The dog growled and snapped out after the man's fingers.
"You wouldn't believe it - used to be the nicest little critter," said the man and turned towards Sam and Dean.
"And what can I do for you boys?"
"We're… name's Dean Rossington, this is my colleague, Sam Medlocke. From the health department. Been sent here regarding the flu outbreak," said Dean quickly falling into the role Sam and him had planned on the way there.
"Oh lord, you don't think our fish could have anything to do with that do ya?" asked the man, "cause I'll tell ya what I told the other guys - everyone comes here, been like that forever, and we've never had any problems"
"We just have to be sure, sir, do you mind if we take a look around?"
"No, you do what you have to do!" he said.
Sam and Dean walked across the yard, but stopped abruptly a couple of feet away from the entrance to the slaughterhouse, when a loud high pitched noise sounded from Dean's body.
"Is that the..?" asked Sam.
Dean quickly patted himself down for the source of noise. Inside his pocket the EMF was going crazy. Dean pulled it out and held it in front of his eyes, studying it closely. The red light that usually went up and down in the presence of a ghost was shining continuously, and was making so much noise that Dean's hand was shaking slightly. Across the yard the dog started to bark again.
"Never seen this high readings before," mumbled Dean and shook the small homemade EMF meter.
"You sure it's not broken?" asked Sam and reached for the machine. Dean slapped his hand away and turned around, "'course it's not broken," he said and turned it off and on - but the readings were the same.
"Well I guess this means it's not a curse," said Dean.
"Spirit?" asked Sam.
"Maybe. We should call dad".
Dean handed the EMF meter to Sam and pulled out his mobile phone. He dialed John, who picked it up almost immediately.
"Yeah?" said John.
"Dad, it's not a curse." Dean quickly briefed John on the conversation with Maria form the general store and the unusual EMF- readings.
"You're probably right, curses usually appear in cycles and the doctors say they've never experienced anything like this before," said John, "our next best guess would probably be ghost".
"Yeah that's what we were thinking," said Dean.
"The bodies have already been cremated, but they did tell me that the first person to die, Guy Petersen, died December 28, worked at the fish market. Dean, you stay there, if the readings are as high as you're saying then whatever the spirit is latching onto should be close by."
"Yes sir," said Dean.
"Tell Sam to find us a motel and search for any violent deaths at the harbor on that laptop of his - I'll look into some local history". John hung up.
Dean turned towards Sam, "dad wants you to go do research, I'll stay".
"What?" said Sam.
"Yenno, get your geek on."
"No I mean, we don't even know what we're dealing with for sure, I'm not letting you dig into it by yourself."
Dean quirked a brow, "dude, I'm 21, I think I can handle one ghost"
"Just, don't do anything rash."
"When have I ever-"
Sam crossed his arms.
"Yeah ok there was maybe that one time in-"
"Call me if you see anything". Sam handed back the EMF, turned around and walked back up the small hill to the main street.
Dean opened the door to the slaughterhouse and ran the EMF up and down the many boxes stacked inside. He unlocked a heavy door that took him to the freezer and took a whiff of the fish, but they didn't smell rotten, which meant that the weird smell Sam had talked about didn't come from the fish.
"ghosty ghosty ghosty," he said, but the room remained empty.
He left the freezer and went over to check the tables. He studied the sharp butcher knives but they were clean and without any trace of having been used to anything suspicious. The EMF was still making so much noise Dean was starting to worry about permanently damaging his hearing, but when he went down on all four to look for traces on the floor, the EMF literally exploded in his hand.
"Shit," he said, as the shards of what used to be five small red lamps scattered on the floor, "and I had just fixed you". Dean lay down flat on the floor and listened carefully, he couldn't hear anything, but he still had a suspicion that something was down there.
"Hey, old man," he yelled while tapping the floor a couple times with the now useless EMF.
"Yes?" The old man peeked in through the door, "what you doin' down there son?" he asked.
Dean got up and pointed at the ground, "what's under the floor?"
The man furrowed his brows, "down there? Let me see… ah, must be the old caves."
"Caves?" Dean repeated.
"Oh yeah. Used to throw fish turned bad down there when I was young man, back in the 50s".
Dean nodded, "and where's the entrance?"
"You're in bad luck son, poured a good ton a cement over it a couple a weeks ago - safety precautions now that I got my little grandson runnin' around".
Dean bit his lip in frustration, "so you're saying there's no way of getting down there".
"Not that I know of. Not unless you wanna go for a nice cold swim," the man laughed.
"It leads to the ocean?"
"Oh yeah, been under water for years, right over there," the man pointed towards a small bridge and smiled, but his smile wavered when he saw the determined look on Dean's face. "You not thinkin' about going down there are you son?"
"Course not," said Dean. It wasn't that he was looking forward to jumping headfirst into the black deep; but it was necessary, he was sure something was down there and if he didn't go someone would die again, soon, perhaps the old man's grandson or Maria form the general store.
"Good. Take care of yourself alright boy, I'm closin' up for today".
"Yeah sure." Dean pretended to collect his things but as soon as the man had driven off in his small truck, he walked down to the edge and stared into the black water.
"So much for not doing anything rash, sorry Sammy, we just ain't got any more time to waste," he said out loud and moved his shot gun, a crowbar, a couple of salt rounds and other necessities from the duffel into a black plastic bag. He had already tied the plastic bag when he remembered that bringing a flashlight would probably be a good idea. He undid the knot and rummaged through the duffel again. He found the flashlight under that ugly angel statue his mom had bought once upon a time. He picked the statue up and studied it for a while. He looked over his shoulder just in case Sam had decided to come back, but didn't see him anywhere and threw the statue into the bag along with the flashlight.
He tied the tip of the plastic bag to his belt loop, removed his shoes, sighed, and walked out onto the bridge, leaving the duffel behind.
He stood there for a while before he clasped his hands together. "Well uh hail Poseidon holder of the Earth," he mumbled and jumped.
It took approximately one second for Dean to realize that he might be a full-blown idiot. An annoying voice in his head that sounded somewhat like Sam's was telling him that he had made a serious mistake and that he was going to die. It felt like getting burned, like he had just jumped straight into a fire, except it was cold and wet. Goosebumps appeared all over his body and his skin started to prickle as if he was getting stung repeatedly, all over his body, with little, sharp, needles. He searched blindly for the entrance to the cave, but didn't find it. A large wave hit him and slammed his head into the wooden bridge. He opened his mouth to yell out in pain, but only managed to breath in a lung full of icy water. He felt his muscles start to give up. His lungs burned. He lay still, facing downwards.
"Where the fuck am I?" he wondered as the current took him further out. "Why the hell am I so cold?" he thought. He tried to look around but couldn't see anything, so he decided he might as well close his eyes. His body was turning numb and all sounds around him grew silent. He wasn't in pain anymore, he actually felt quite good. Small sparks appeared behind his eyelashes.
A voice called for him. "Dean!" it yelled.
"Mom?" he thought, but it didn't sound like he remembered her voice sounding at all.
"Dean!" it repeated more urgently.
"What?" he answered lazily in his mind.
A great push hit him and pulled him against the sea shelf. Somehow, the hit brought him back to his senses long enough for him to reach forward and grab onto the edge of a hole. He forced himself through and followed his instincts that were telling him to go up. Suddenly he found himself in an underground cave. He gasped for air violently.
"Holy shit!" he coughed.
He tried to stand but was overcome with dizziness and immediately tumbled over. His stomach convulsed, "fuck," he said and puked. He didn't try to stand again for a couple of minutes.
When he gained confidence his limbs wouldn't fail him again he slowly got back on his feet while holding onto the side of the cave.
He fumbled with the plastic bag that was miraculously still attached to his hip and turned on the flashlight. There wasn't anything to see in front of him, but under him there was a thin layer of cement that must have come all the way from the other end of the cave. He started to walk and the cave soon split in two. He looked down at the ground and saw that the cement appeared to come from left. The left cave was much bigger than the one he had come from. He stretched his back, sore from walking hunched over, and took a deep breath through his nose. He shouldn't have done that. He almost puked again when the stench of rotten corpse and moldy fish hit him like a punch to the face.
Cursing any deity he could think of he pinched his nose so hard it was sure to bruise. It took all the self control he could master to keep on walking, but he knew that the smell meant he was heading the right way. When the cave split again he turned right. He looked down when he heard a crunchy sound and felt something splinter under his bare feet. It took him a while to realize that he had just stepped on a pile of bones. "Oh, ew no that's just gross," he said and was about to wipe off his feet when he heard the sound of pebbles fall in the distance. He drew his shotgun, loaded and cocked it but nothing appeared in the darkness. It could have just been the cave settling, but Dean knew that he probably shouldn't bet on it.
He hurried up. The layer of cement under his feet seemed to grow thicker and thicker as he got further into the cave. He kept going until he was met with a wall of cement and boulders. The almost too smooth boulders seemed weirdly out of place, almost as if they had been placed there; he hadn't come across anything like them on his way in. Between two boulders Dean found something that looked like a knife, he picked it up and looked at it in the light from the flashlight. It was ancient and there appeared to be letters etched into the side of it, or no, Dean squinted at the text, not letters - runes.
"huh," he said.
The light from the flashlight blinked and the room turned cold. Dean spun around, gun raised. A few feet behind him stood something he had never seen in his life. It was thin and tall with bones sticking out of its sick, bluish, boiled skin. He thought it kind of looked like a disgusting mix between a wendigo and a kappa, but one thing was sure, it was definitely not a ghost.
The creature started to move towards him slowly. He shot it between the eyes but it didn't flinch.
"Damn it," he said, remembering that his gun was loaded with salt rounds and not real bullets. He fished his pocket and took back every curse he had yelled at the deities earlier when he found a bullet. He reloaded his gun with trained precision and shut the creature again, this time it stopped, lifted a scaly finger to its forehead and scratched the bullet hole. It let out a low wheezing breath, the stench in the room worsened, reaching almost unbearable levels.
"meiðmar… þyrstr... meiri…"
Dean backed away from the thing but the cement wall behind him blocked the only other way than right into the arms of the creature.
The thing grabbed Dean by the neck and flung him into the wall.
Sam hadn't been able to do as much research as he had wanted to. He kept getting disconnected from the shitty dial-up internet access that the motel had allowed him to borrow, and he hadn't been able to find any violent deaths anywhere near Brooklin the last 50 years. He was just about to quit trying and go to an old fashioned library when John called.
"Have you figured anything out?" asked John.
Sam sighed, "not yet".
"Me neither. Wasted my time listening to some foreigner talk about Vikings."
"Vikings?" asked Sam.
"Apparently the only thing interesting about this Brooklin town is some old Norse coin found some time in the 50s," said John, "supposedly the only Viking artifact found within the US".
"Where's the coin now?"
"Gone. Disappeared a couple of weeks ago when the owner-". John grew quiet.
"What?!" said Sam.
"The coin disappeared on December 27.," said John.
"One day before the first vic died - you think it's connected?" finished Sam.
"Most likely, but it still doesn't get us any closer to ID'ing the ghost. You tried looking up any Scandinavian deaths, maybe one that fits the symptoms the vics had?"
"Scandinavian…symptoms…," as Sam typed the words into the search bar he was hit with a realization.
"Wait, dad, I think I just remembered something - I'll call you back," he said and hung up.
He erased what he had just written and typed in the word 'draugr'.
Dean was sure he had fractured something, but at least he was still conscious. He stuck his hand into the plastic bag, desperately searching for something he could use as a weapon. He almost threw the angel statue at the monster but reasoned that it would probably only agitate it further. Instead, he found his lighter and a small bottle of ethanol meant for burning bones, in the bottom of the bag; he managed to pour the ethanol over the creature but before he could click his lighter, a cold, moist hand latched onto his wrist and lifted him into the air. The creature used its other hand to hold onto Dean's shoulder and push it downwards, as if it was trying to rip his hand off. Dean thought to himself that that was probably exactly what it was trying to do. He clenched his teeth as the tendons and ligaments in his wrist overstretched, but before they broke completely the monster let go and dropped him to the ground. His hand dislocated with a sick snap. He bit back a cry and got back on his feet. He was now closer to the exit than the creature and with all the haste he could master he ran for it.
He didn't get far before strong fingers tore through the back of his shirt and pulled him back. It pushed him down onto the ground and kept him from crawling away with one monstrously strong arm. Dean tried to kick it but it caught his foot. He looked over his shoulder and could only watch on in horror as it set its teeth into his leg and started to suck.
For the second time that day Dean felt his limbs grow numb.
Sam dialed Dean's number for the seventh time but there was still no reply.
"Damn it Dean!" he yelled and kicked the table after leaving another voice mail. He hurried into his jacket and called John.
"Dad, we need to get to Dean now".
"What is it Sam?"
"I know what we're dealing with, it's not a ghost, it's something called a draugr".
"A what?"
"Remember when I went to that school in Utah, we did an essay on Nordic mythology?"
"Cut to the chase Sam"
"A draugr is an undead, but not like a ghost, there'll be no bones to burn and salt won't do shit"
"A zombie?"
"Sort of," said Sam while running through the snow towards the harbor, "they're corporeal but known for walking through stone. They're born from greed and jealousy and attack anyone they think will steal from their graves."
"The coin, it came from its grave - you think it killed that guy?" asked John.
"Exactly, something must have awoken it. Draugar were once human, but for some reason they didn't pass on properly. They're jealous of the living, once awakened they won't rest again before they've drained the entire town for life, literally, they're leeches, they terrorize their victims through their minds before they suck them dry."
Sam could hear the sound of the Impala roaring at the other end of the line.
"Meet me at the harbor," said John and hung up.
Sam ran as fast as he could. He should have thought of it earlier; the dog, draugar affect animals as well, the smell, the symptoms, it should have been obvious, he should have figured it out, he shouldn't have left Dean behind, he knew he couldn't trust him to not do something stupid.
If Dean was dead it was his fault.
When Sam arrived at the harbor John was already standing there with the green duffel in his hand.
"W-Where's… where's Dean?" asked Sam, out of breath.
Sam looked over John's shoulder and saw a pair of boots by the bridge.
"Dean." Without further consideration Sam kicked out of his own shoes and jumped into the water. Seconds later he heard another splash as John did the same. Together they quickly found the entrance to the cave.
When they surfaced inside the cave they simultaneously covered their noses with their arms.
"It's that smell," said Sam through his jacket. John nodded and started to run through the darkness holding on to the now completely soaked duffel bag. He clicked his lighter, the only light source that had made it through the water.
"Where is he!?" yelled Sam in frustration as they hit a dead end.
"Be quiet and pull yourself together Sam!" hissed John and turned around.
It took almost 20 minutes more before they finally found him.
The draugr didn't appear to have noticed them, but upon seeing Dean's lifeless body Sam couldn't help but let out a gasp. The draugr looked up from Dean's leg; its face was covered in blood.
"How do we kill it," asked John.
Sam blinked, trying to remember, "we uh… we cut the head off and burn the body and head separately".
The draugr didn't seem interested in John and Sam and bowed its ugly head down to start sucking again. Sam shot the creature several times in the chest and head in an attempt to catch its attention, it worked, the draugr let out a high pitched scream and started to walk towards him.
Sam looked at the gun he had in his hand, "iron!"
"Keep shooting at it!" yelled John. Sam emptied two more rounds into the draugr's skull, causing it to stagger. John didn't waste any time and cut the draugr's head clean off its neck.
"Take Dean and go," he said and stuffed the head into the duffel, "I'll take care of this."
Watchful of his leg Sam lifted Dean's limp body onto his back and started to run towards the exit.
Once inside the Impala Sam shook Dean gently but he didn't stir.
"Come on Dean," he said and tied a scrap of his shirt around Dean's bleeding leg. He searched Dean's neck for a heartbeat and almost cried out in relief when he felt a weak thump.
"Get in," said John.
Sam looked behind him and saw something burn by the bridge. He quickly looked back at Dean.
"Dad, he's not waking up!"
"Dean's tough - he'll wake up, now get in before anyone sees the fire!"
Sam got in next to Dean and tried to find the heartbeat again - but couldn't. "He's getting worse; we need to get him to a hospital. Please dad," Sam begged in a panicked voice.
Dean tried to kick the thing again and managed to loosen its grip long enough for him to get up on his feet and run. He ran blindly along the cave wall towards what he hoped was the exit.
Suddenly a light flared on the floor. His flashlight.
"What the hell," he said as he looked around and found himself back in the room where he had first come across the creature. That definitely wasn't normal, he couldn't possibly have been running in circles. He didn't get time to consider it further before he was smacked into the stone floor so hard he wondered how he was still even alive. The monster violently turned him around so he was facing it, its scaly face a few inches from his; he felt its pungent breath on his cheek.
"So this is it," he thought, "I'm sorry", though he wasn't exactly sure who in particular he was apologizing to.
It raised its hand high into the air; he closed his eyes and waited for the inventible strike.
He saw a bright white light.
"Corny," he said out loud. He would have laughed if it wasn't because he a second later felt the world crumble beneath him. Literally. If anyone had asked him later he would have denied it but he yelped.
He fell, and kept on falling, into what seemed to be some kind of endless black hole, he didn't dare look. Suddenly he wasn't falling anymore. Dean thought he must have reached the bottom and just not felt it. He was thankful for his quick death. Dying hadn't been as bad as he had expected.
"You're not dead, Dean," he heard someone say in a deep, gravelly voice.
Dean opened his eyes. Alright so he wasn't dead, but he wasn't falling anymore either, he was getting carried bridal style by someone or something that appeared to be able to soar through the black emptiness. Dean furrowed his brow and tried to make out who the hell was carrying him; but then he remembered that he wasn't a damsel in distress, and if the choice stood between falling to his death and getting carried away like a princess by some supernatural freak, he knew what he'd choose… so he punched the bastard in the face as hard as he could. Dean heard all the bones in his fingers snap and passed out.
Dean had no idea how long he had been out. All sense of time and place had disappeared; he wasn't even sure he was still in the cave, it didn't look like the cave, but then again it didn't look like any place on earth he could think of.
He sat up and peered into the darkness. The only sound he could hear was his own heartbeat thumping surprisingly sturdily in his chest, considered the fact that he was pretty sure he was dead, no matter what the voice had told him. He listened carefully and thought he could hear something else as well; a strange flutter, like a piece of cloth in the wind, or perhaps…wings.
He forced his eyes to the limit, but it was meaningless, wherever he was, was so dark that it didn't matter whether his eyes were open or not.
"You're awake," said the voice. Dean jumped and that was when he noticed that all the wounds from the fight with the monster were gone and that even his fingers seemed to have healed.
A circle of blue fire surrounded him and broke the darkness. In front of him stood someone or something with its back towards him; its arms were stretched towards either side of the circle and from its hands shone a beam of bright white light. Dean squinted at the man… creature, whatever it was, and thought the darkness that surrounded its shoulders seemed, for some reason, particularly black. When the circle was completed the light dimmed slightly, although it wasn't completely dark anymore. The creature turned around and walked towards Dean with long but soundless steps.
Dean patted his thigh for his plastic bag and pulled out a small handgun.
"Stop right there," he said, trying to sound stern. The creature didn't falter. It was now only a couple of feet away from where Dean was sitting and the closer it got the more clearly Dean could see its face. It appeared… normal, human even, but Dean knew better.
"What the hell are you," he spat.
"I'm an angel-". But Dean didn't let it finish and shot it. For a moment it looked down at its chest in what looked like slight bewilderment before it continued to talk as if it hadn't just been shot, "I'm an angel of the lord".
Dean's eyebrow quirked, "right, and what the hell would an 'angel of the lord'" he put force on the last part, "be doing in a cave in Nowhere, Maine?"
The 'angel' tilted its head, "Dean, you're not in a cave. You're in the hospital recovering from injuries brought upon you by the draugr".
"Huh?" said Dean, "wait, the what?"
"The creature. It's gone; I have smitten it." The supposed angel stared at him. Normal functions such as blinking didn't seem to concern it and Dean felt his eyes start to water trying not to give in.
"Uhu, is that so. Thanks for that," said Dean. He wasn't sure if the angel either didn't notice or simply didn't care about the sarcasm in his voice; it nodded and continued to stare blankly at him.
"And this," Dean made a gesture towards his perfectly healed leg, "that was you as well?"
"I was not able to heal you completely, though you should be able to walk when you wake up," said the angel.
"What do you mean by 'when I wake up'?"
The angel squinted, "Dean, you're dreaming, the draugr had poisoned your mind."
"We're in my head? And how the hell do you know my name?" asked Dean.
The angel didn't answer but began to walk closer to him again. Using his hands Dean pulled himself backwards but was stopped by the ring of fire. The angel slowly dropped down on one knee right in front of him and started to reach towards his face. Dean leaned back as far as he could without getting scorched and moved his head away from the offending hand. Before the angel could harm him he shot it again.
"I'm not going to hurt you," it said.
"Yeah right, then what are you doing in my head to begin with? Sure as hell didn't just come to save me," said Dean.
"I do not understand?" said the angel.
Dean let out a short bark, "you've got to be kidding me".
"I did come to save you," it said and tilted its head again.
"Why?" said Dean, surprising even himself with the harshness in his voice. The angel's hand was warm on Dean's cheek. It moved its face so close to his that their noses almost touched and for the first time Dean noticed how brilliantly blue its eyes were.
"Blue?" Dean thought.
"Back then, in the water, that was you," Dean stated.
"Yes," it said.
Dean huffed, "right, so suddenly angels care about me".
"We have always cared about you".
Dean tried to push the angel away but couldn't move it an inch, "ha, not in my experience," he said bitterly, "now get off me".
The angel finally seemed to understand his cues and stepped back a little and removed its hand. It looked down at the ground and said, "I don't understand. Why did you-"
But Dean never heard the end of the sentence before someone shook him awake.
"The hell…" he said groggily and frowned. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone turn a noisy, beeping, machine off.
"We have to go," said the person.
"Dad…?"
"Get up," said John.
"Yes sir…" Dean got up as fast as he could and almost fell off the bed with dizziness. He blinked a couple of times, "where am I?" he said.
"The hospital," said John, "get your stuff". He left the room.
Dean looked down at the IV in his hand. He pulled it out slowly while biting the inside of his cheek and let it flop down onto the floor. He collected his clothes from the chair across the room and was about to leave when he noticed the angel statue standing on the nightstand next to the bed.
"Sam…" he sighed. He grabbed the statue and hid between his clothes.
Carefully, he sneaked down the hallway, trying not to get noticed by any hospital staff, and almost missed Sam who was sitting in the waiting room, nervously shaking his leg.
"Sam, come on!" he whispered.
"Huh? Dean?" said Sam.
"Quiet!"
"There's no way you're ready to go yet!" said Sam in a slightly more quiet voice.
"I'm fine!"
"But Dean!"
"Shut up Sammy"
Sam crossed his arms but followed Dean out of the hospital to the parking lot where John was waiting in the Impala.
"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Sam when Dean almost fell down on to the passenger seat. Dean rolled his eyes.
He was quickly overcome sleepiness, but every time he was about to drift off, he thought he saw a pair of icy blue eyes stare at him.
Author's note:
The Maine coin is actually a thing that exists, though it's believed to be a hoax :)
Hope you enjoyed.