Spooky Town

Driven by the strangle of vein, showing no mercy, I do it again.

Open up your eyes, you keep on crying, baby, I'll bleed you dry.

The skies they blink at me, I see a storm, bubbling up from the sea.

And it's coming closer.

"GO!"

He shouted over his shoulder, fingers sliding the clip free, snapping another into place even as footsteps sounded behind him, his brother's instantly recognisable through the chaos. Then they were lost under the rage and the fear and the thunder in his hands at red eyes, blinking open again, glaring balefully at him as the shots forced the Hound back down the corridor.

A sharp elbow tapped his shoulder as Sam slipped past and Dean edged back, feeling his way with one foot until his toe stubbed against the first step. At the same moment, the exact same moment, a synchronicity so perfectly screwed it was the stuff of movie legend, he pulled the trigger again and heard only a dry, empty click.

There wasn't even a pause for breath before the Hound bellowed, the sound a physical assault against his skin. He flinched, threw an arm up in front of his face, squeezing his eyes shut against the searing pain he couldn't forget, the sickening intrusion of teeth into flesh and bone.

The pain that never came.

Instead, something slapped his shoulder, hard enough to make the sullen bruises flare but he got the message and dropped so fast the floor knocked the breath from his lungs.

Armageddon crashed over his head, deafening even through the nails-on-chalkboard grating of the hounds' roar against his soul. Dazedly, he wondered if Sam had managed to lay his hands on a cannon somewhere between the motel and this mouldering, crumbling staircase, then he gave coherent thought up and just scrambled back past his brother's legs, turned and rolled to his knees and clawed his way up the stairs.

He thought maybe he was screaming as he went, thought he certainly should have been but wasn't sure he had enough breath left in his lungs to move and scream at the same time. Still, he could feel a vibration in his throat, familiar, achingly so, dredging up fire on the ceiling and lamp-flex winding like snakes and second explosion slamming hot air and burning wood against his back and gritty mud soaking through his jeans.

"SAAAAAAAM!"

The stairs shuddered beneath him, jarred against his hands and shifted. With a start, he realised they were tilting, pulling away from the wall, wood splintering as they disintegrated. He drew his legs up, launched himself up the last few steps, twisting even as he landed to throw out a hand and dig his fingers into his brother's collar. He jerked the younger man's torso into his lap as Sam kicked at empty air, their yells lost in the thunder of wood and Hound crashing to the floor below.

Slim hands grabbed at his shoulders, sharp nails digging into the deep bruises and he groaned as she pulled him back, but he held onto the fabric clenched in his fist, wrapped his free arm around his brother's shoulders and dragged them both over the edge, splinters digging into his side as he rolled away, panting harshly.

"Fuck."

Sam laughed once, a rough bark of static as Dean swore, pushed to his knees and stayed there, head hanging down. The younger man mirrored him and Kate leaned against the wall behind them. He could feel her shaking.

"What was that thing?"

His lips thinned as he looked at his brother, still slouched staring at the floor, the desperate weariness running riot through him dulling the surge of raw fear.

"It was a Hellhound."

Sam looked away from him and Dean caught his lip between his teeth, bit back the jaded instinct to reach after his brother, let his gaze search out the rest of the survivors, and rolled tiredly to his feet. Crossing the space to them with a few strides, one hand slipping the gun in his hand into the back of his jeans, he smiled. Behind him, he could hear his brother and the red-head talking softly, Sam's deep, hoarse mutter rough counterpoint to her light, fear-brittle tone.

Dean thought Sam sounded more like him, some days.

He shook it off, crouched in front of the kids, spread his hands a little.

"Hey. I'm Dean."

"'m Tommy. He's Petey. Those… the dogs took his mommy."

The older of the boys blurted it out, as if confessing a terrible secret held too long. Dean tried not to flinch, dug deep for some kind of smile and found nothing.

"Okay, that's okay." Low, soft, trying to swallow the faint ache at his father's voice in his throat. "We'll get everyone out, maybe find his Dad or something. Alright?"

"How?"

He turned a few inches, so he could see his brother and the kids at the same time.

"It's kind of what we do."

"Oh."

The toddler sniffled, drew in a hitching breath and let out a thin cry. Dean twitched, winced and felt the blood drain to his feet as he heard rubble shift in the hole. Sam's head shot up in the periphery of his vision. He whirled, stood in one quick motion, ejected the spent clip from his Colt and yanking a fresh clip from the back of his jeans, ramming it home as the younger man scrambled over the floor to the children, dragging the red-head behind him by one arm.

"Tommy, right?"

The boy just stared at him, eyes too wide, hollow in his pale face. Licking his lips, Dean reached into his pocket, rolled a thumb over the silver flask inside. Pulling it free, he held it up between them, angled it so the thin light caught the relief on the front.
"You know what this is, Tommy?"
The youngster shrugged, ticked his head to the side but his gaze followed the flask as Dean lowered it to his hands.
"It's called a hip flask, but this one's kind've special. See, it's got somethin' inside that's, well, it's kinda like magic. It'll keep you safe if..." he trailed off, remembered every child he'd ever told about thew dark and the way the innocence in their eyes withered away. "Just hold tight to it, okay?"

Dean watched as the boy nodded, dividing his attention between his brother and the hole as Sam pulled the toddler up, passed him to Kate and pulled his Taurus, held it low against his thigh. He looked back to the hole, scanned what little of the rubble he could see. It wasn't enough. He edged forward two careful steps, peered over the sagging edge, shrugging one shoulder in answer to Sam's low warning and darting another quick glance back.

Tommy held the hunter's hip flask, gazing intently, ferociously at the battered silver as Kate settled the Petey's arms around her neck.

"Sam? Ready?"

His brother nodded an answer as he looked back to the hole, saw rubble moving, wooden beams and treads mounding up as something shoved roughly up from beneath. "It's comin'," he snapped, lifted his Colt and kept it trained on the debris that moved as if it was alive, the Hound clawing through it. His warning provoked a flurry of motion behind him, the sound of his brother's boots thundering against the landing, Tommy's surprised yelp and the toddler's rising wail was all the starter's gun he needed.

Dean turned, threw himself after them, hitting a flat-out sprint before he'd taken his fourth stride. They raced down the hallway, Sam dragging Tommy by one hand, the kid's feet barely touching the threadbare carpet. Kate carried the howling Petey against her chest, the toddler's red, tear-blotched face staring back at Dean, staring past him to where the rubble groaned and something growled, so deep Dean felt it tremble along his spine.

"GO!"

Sam cast one glance back over his shoulder at Dean's shout and the older man saw his eyes widen a fraction of a heartbeat before the landing dipped and shuddered. He stumbled, saw Kate go down and heard Petey scream once, couldn't keep his feet and twisted as he fell. He heard his brother's hoarse yell, saw him turn in the edge of his vision, and their guns roared together. Afterspots danced across his eyes as the muzzleflash split the dark to pieces, not enough to obscure the Hound writhing in the hail of blessed lead, falling back over the edge of the hole.

:: ::

The second the Hound was out of sight, Sam sagged, bent over to brace one hand against his knee as he sucked in air.

Christ. Jesus Christ, that thing.

He hadn't really seen it at the foot of the stairs, just a shifting mass of shadow and smoke but now his stomach churned, acid biting at his throat. He forced the nausea down, ruthlessly bit back the urge to sink to the floor, cursing at himself in his head.

Suck it up, Winchester. You can exorcise demons with your mind, you're gonna let the sight of some hellspawn puppy bring you down?

Fleetingly, he wondered when the voice in his head had turned from his brother to Ruby, winced and set the thought aside, buried it deep.

Not thinking about that. Just... not.

"Sam?"

He startled at his brother's call, finger twitching tight on the trigger, nerves shot.

"I'm fine!"

Sam rolled to his feet, heard Dean gathering Kate up and started running again. He passed his brother, reached down for Tommy's hand where the boy huddled against the wall and swept him up against one shoulder. Long hair burrowed into his neck, wet with tears as the child shivered.

He slowed as he found the end of the corridor, smeared a sweaty hand over the dusty window and felt a smile tremble at his lips.

"Dean."

His brother panted up, Petey pressed against his chest, Kate's hand wrapped around his bicep. He didn't answer, just turned and scanned the long hallway, stretching into the shadows.

"Fire escape."

Sam saw the older man's shoulders relax a fraction, knew Dean would be grinning when he turned.

"Awesome. Maybe our luck's changing."

Sam rolled his eyes, muttering "don't jinx it," as he pulled his knife from his boot and worked the blade into the lock, levering it open and yanking the window up. Tommy swung from his arm to perch on the sill and he kept the boy there with one hand on his shoulder as he leaned out, searching the alleyway and the rooftops around them.

"We clear?"

Dean's voice sounded oddly strained, muffled and Sam snapped his head back, smothering the laugh that broke through the spike of fear at the sight of the toddler wrapped around his brother's head.

One irate eye glared at him past the pudgy arm.

"Sam?"

"Yeah. We're good."

"Then can we get the hell out of here?"

"Sure!" he grinned, brightly, heard Tommy giggle behind him. Kate stared over his brother's shoulder, her face pale and solemn, the fear tightening her lips sobering him instantly. Sam turned back to the window, slipped out past Tommy and hefted the child down to the rattling landing of the fire escape.

"You okay dude?"

Tommy nodded, held up the silver hipflask. Sam smiled.

"Good. Hold on, okay?"

He turned back, helped Kate clamber through the window, straining his ears for any sign of the hounds. His skin crawled, nervous anticipation beading sweat along his brow and he swiped one arm through his bangs, smearing it away.

"Here."

He blinked as Dean handed him the toddler, watched the way his brother put his back to the wall, the gun shifting in his grip.

"I don't hear it."

He meant it as reassurance, but the look Dean turned on him was fraught, hot with angry fear.

"Those rounds weren't enough to stop it. Where is it, Sam?"

"Let's just get back. Hole up in the motel."

"Yeah."

Sam wrapped one hand under his brother's elbow, helping the older man clamber over the high sill without ever taking his eyes off the hallway. He could feel Dean shaking, fine tremors born of riding the edge of the adrenaline rush for too long, felt his own knees weaken as weariness began to war with the hormone in his blood.

They were going to crash, and soon.

"We gotta move, Dean."

"I know. It's just… I don't know. It's wrong. All of this."

Sam paused, feeling the same instinct plucking at his nerves. Dean shrugged, shaking out his hands, muttering irritably.

"You're right. Let's just get back to the motel and figure this out."

He took Tommy into his arms again, hefting the boy against his hip.

"You ready kiddo?"

The child nodded against his neck, craning his head back to peer nervously over the hunter's shoulder.

"Good boy. You watch my back, okay?"

He swung down onto the stairs, boots clattering against the metal, the rail shuddering under his hand as Kate and his brother fell in behind him. the alleyway filled with the sound, echoing around them until it took on an almost physical presence, scraping against his nerves and for a moment, until Dean crashed down the ladder behind him, he couldn't hear the hounds.

By the time they dashed back onto the main street, squeezing between a rusty black minivan and a deep red stationwagon, it was all he could hear past his own, harsh panting. The back of his neck itched, tingling with the sensation of eyes brushing over him, raking over his heart and soul, judging him and finding him wanting. He snarled, gritted his teeth until he couldn't bear it any more and turned a quick 180 as he ran across the middle of the street. There was nothing behind them, nothing but shadows that seemed too deep, too dark somehow, so unutterably still that they couldn't be natural. But there was no Hound, no black-eyed demon stalking towards them in a stolen meat-suit. He whispered under his breath, cursing harshly, still drowning under the weight of the gaze on his back as he ran on, darting past a blue Ford, and clutching Tommy against his shoulder.

It came at them over the car, surging onto the roof, the suspension groaning, one sill scraping against the pavement as the Hound's weight crushed the shocks. Sam pushed Kate ahead of him, giving the girl a hard shove between her shoulder blades that sent her stumbling forward in front of his brother. That was all he had time for.

He reached out, his fingertips catching hold of rough fur and nothing else as it slammed past him, knocking him sideways and into his brother with a sickening thud. Tommy spilled from his arms to land with a shocked cry on the sidewalk as Sam slammed into metal and asphalt He heard Dean grunt as he scrambled to his feet again, swaying as the world tilted, falling back against the car behind him as he shook his head and instantly regretted it.

Blinking hard, Sam reached up and swiped at the blood trickling into his eye, watching two Deans grapple with two hounds. For a moment they resolved into one twisted image of his brother, dragged from the table top, screaming and writhing as blood turned the air heavy and rank.

"Get them out!"

The shout was lost in the echoes in his head, the sound of flesh tearing, of his brother sobbing as the hounds tore him apart.

"SAM!"

His hand flattened against the car, cold metal chilling his palm, the burn scar that still showed the pattern of the Ghede's charm itching at the contact and Sam blinked again, lifted his eyes to his brother as Dean rolled on the ground, one hand thrust up under the beasts' jaw, muscles straining to hold it away from his throat as the hunter looked at him, eyes bright with desperation and fear.

The younger man shook himself, pushed away from the car, ice racing under his skin as he saw the panic in his brother's eyes and knew Dean was remembering the same moment.

"Get them out! Back to the motel!"

He hesitated, saw the hounds slavering jaws press a little closer to his brother's throat and as he watched the panic in his eyes shift to cold resolution, he knew what Dean was planning.

Like the Peg Legged Jack. He'll kill it.

"Dean, don –"

"Dammit, Sammy, GO!" his brother ground out through clenched teeth, arms trembling as the Hound raked at him with its claws, vicious kicks that would have torn straight through skin and flesh if he hadn't held them back. As it was, the younger man saw crimson bloom through Dean's shirts as a few of the blows snaked past his defences. Dean rolled his head over as the Hound pressed closer, face twisting with disgust as steaming drool fell from its jaws, slicking over his skin. He stared at Sam and the tall hunter saw the determination beneath the resolution, the will driving away the fear at what he was planning to do.

Sam reached out and grabbed Tommy into his shoulder again, dragging Kate to her feet, Petey wrapped in her arms, never turning away as he led them down the street. His resolve wavered as he watched his brother grimace, the Hound surging down at him again, pressing closer until Dean shoved an arm into the jaws that snapped a scant few inches from his throat.

The older man's cry of pain, ragged and terrified, almost took Sam to his knees as he finally turned his back on his brother and pushed the girl into a sprint, blinded by the sight of a suburban dining room, spattered with blood and gore. He barely realised he was crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as he sobbed.

They reached the intersection and he thrust Tommy into Kate's arms, pushing her around the corner with the same motion and dived after them as the cold slammed into him. The air was sucked out of his lungs and he felt all the heat leave his blood, pulled back as his vision dimmed, the sensation of the ground scraping at his skin as he rolled helplessly. Faintly, as if from a thousand miles away, he heard a soft thumping echoing through his blood, jarring against his pulse as they both slowed, his throat constricting as he recognised the sound of his brother's heartbeat.

He wanted to cry out, wanted to scream, to do anything to break the cold lassitude that stole along his nerves, dragged him under into the dark. But he couldn't feel the world anymore, couldn't touch the concrete he knew had to be under him, couldn't hear the girl calling to him. There was nothing but the chill and that slow, plodding beat that wound through his blood.

Then he heard something.

…Sam…

From so far away he could almost believe he imagined it,

…Sammy?…

Quiet and hurting and so filled with sorrow he would have wept if he could,

…no. NO…

Much as the ice thickening his blood hurt, it was nothing compared to the agony that ripped through him as the cold was torn out of him, dragged away by an effort of will that stunned him. He reached after it, acting on nothing but pure, terrified instinct, found only emptiness where that desolate whisper had been then something cracked against his cheek, stinging fiercely.

Sam snapped back into himself, blinked open his eyes as the hand slapped his cheek again. He flinched away, reached up weakly and caught her wrist, peering through the cloud across his vision at wide, pale blue eyes.

"Sam?"

He pushed to his feet, made it to his knees before he had to stop, clutching at his head to stop it simply shattering to pieces.

"Dammit…"

"What happened to him?"

"Are you okay?"

He could have sworn he felt the questions hit his skin, overlapping each other until he could barely make sense of them.

"Help me up," he grated, reaching out, realising as he did that it was Dean's hand he was expecting to find. He made it the rest of the way to standing on his own, finally shook his head clear enough to see them staring at him, wide eyed in the pale light.

He turned away from them, took a couple of steps back to the intersection and stopped, indecision twisting through him.

"Is he… did they get him?"

The question decided him even as he answered it, instinct shaking his head.

"No."

He would know. He would just know if Dean was gone, the hollow feeling underneath his ribs one he could never quite forget.

"No," he repeated. "He's…" fine, he wanted to say, wanted to believe but the town was quiet, their little corner of it at least and he knew if his brother really was fine then all hell would be breaking loose. He let it go, split his attention between the girl and the two boys peering 'round her legs, and the streets and the corner of the wall as he neared it.

He didn't have a hope in hell of keeping any of his attention on anything but the shadows huddled against the battered car as he crept around the sharp angle.

"Dean!"

In his head, his brother's voice echoed through their Dad's.

Check the scene first, kiddo. Running in yelling won't do anyone a lick of good.

Sam didn't care, but scanned the streets as he broke into a run, sliding to his knees at the mass of fur and brother and only stopping when his shoulder thumped against the passenger door of the car. Only one arm and the tips of the older man's mussed hair were visible beneath the Hound, neither of them moving.

"Dean? God, Dean, come on."

He hauled on the hounds' corpse, grunted in surprise when it didn't budge an inch and tried again, remembered the suspension groaning as sweat broke out on his lip and trickled into his eyes. He grunted softly, heaved the weight up and off his brother.

"Jesus."

Dean was sprawled against the car; legs twisted up beneath him as if he'd tried to stand and simply folded to the ground under the impossible weight of the Hound. Sam reached out and turned his brother's face towards him, wincing as he saw the deep gash trailing up into his hairline. The hollows under his eyes were dark against his pale face, streaked with crimson. The younger man swallowed hard as he saw the arm his brother cradled in his lap, jagged bite marks circling the length of his forearm, blood still trickling steadily to soak into his jeans.

He stripped off his shirt, Dean's shirt, and shivered as he folded the body of the garment into a pad. His eyes flickered from the blood slicking the older man's arm from shoulder to fingertips, soaking the thin tee his brother wore and turning the dark grey black.

His lips thinned in an odd twist of relief and sympathy as he lifted the arm and Dean moaned, low in his throat, rolling his head away along the side of the car.

"Hey, wake up man."

Dean groaned again, murmured something, breath hitching as Sam pressed the pad of shirt against the long tears in his arm, tying the arms as tightly as he could.

"Dean? Come on, please."

There was nothing he could do about the gouges striping his brother's torso, but he gingerly tugged aside the shredded cotton, relieved to see that they were mostly shallow, messy scrapes.

"S'm?"

"Yeah."

"Crap..."

"You okay?"

Sam leaned forward, reaching out to roll his brother's head towards him again as the older man's eyelashes fluttered, lifted to half-mast, a glassy stare peering out at him.

"No. Up."

Dean palmed the ground at his side with his good hand, reached up and fisted the other in Sam's t-shirt, trembling as he pushed weakly to his knees and swayed.

"Whoa, whoa take it easy."

Even as he said it, he slipped one arm under his brother's shoulders, eased the hunter up, taking his weight with a soft grunt as Dean staggered into him.

"Gotta go."

"I know. Just slow down a little, okay?"

He could feel the muscles under his arms twitching, jumping in reaction to pain and fear and gave in.

"Okay. We're goin'."

Dean smiled wearily at him, then Sam cursed as the hunter's eyes rolled up in his head and fluttered closed as he sagged in Sam's arms.

"Hey hey hey, no, come on Dean. Stay awake, okay?"

The older man groaned, didn't open his eyes but the weight on Sam's shoulders eased.

"Motel."

It was a bare, scant whisper, slurred and thick but the tall hunter smiled weakly, repeated in a whisper, "Yeah. We're going."

"'Kay."

They stumbled down the street, weaving as the older man's feet tangled together, but by the time they reached the intersection Sam found Kate just gathering the children together. Behind them, the horizon was turning to gold, false dawn fading to sunrise, scant comfort in it when he could still hear the hounds. He didn't stop, just slowed a little and shifted his grip around his brother's back, meeting her shocked gaze.

"Is… is he…"

"Later. Come on."

Dean seemed to have other ideas, pulling back, lifting his head to shoot the girl a cocky smirk. Only Sam could feel the effort it took, trembling down his spine as he muttered, "'M fine, sweetheart. Unless you wanna play nurse?"

Sam grinned as Kate rolled her eyes and huffed loudly, echoing his own words more softly, for his brother's ears only.

"Come on, dude. Only a couple blocks."

Dean chuckled wearily, breathlessly.

"'M still drivin'."