Enjoy chapter two!
Chapter Two: Crowned Figure
Dean lunges forward, grabbing Sam's arm at the last minute, just before he can take another step toward the figure that has shifted into Jess. The trees surrounding them feel like they are alive, the fog creeping closer, whispers growing louder. Sam's face is a mask of fear and sadness as he looks longingly towards the apparition of Jess, but Dean's grip is tight and unwavering.
"Hey, Sam! You've got to snap out it ok?" Dean barks, shaking his brother. "That's not Jess!" Sam blinks, his vision blurry. The figure in front of them begins to flicker, its form twisting and changing like a reflection in water. Jess's familiar face slowly melts away and is replaced by something terrifying, something very not human. Deep hollow eyes stare back at them angrily, and the thorn crown seems to grow larger, more menacing.
"It's feeding off you!" Dean whispers, his voice low and urgent. "Whatever this thing is, it's screwing with your head Sammy. You've got to snap out of it now before we both get killed!"
The creature tilts its head to the side, its movements flow eerily like a trickling stream of water. The whispers in the fog begin to grow louder than ever before, the brothers hear snippets of their own voices swirl among the others, distorted and mocking.
"Dean," Sam says, his voice trembling. "It knows us. That thing knows who we are. I think he's been waiting for us."
"Yeah, well, it's about to know what my shotgun to its face feels like," Dean says before, raising his shotgun. He fires a round of salt directly at the figure. The blast echoes through the forest, shattering through the fog, making it dissipate momentarily. The figure disappears quickly, its form fading into shadow and mist.
"Did you hit it?" Sam asks, his breathing labored and heavy.
Dean doesn't lower his weapon and keeps his eyes on the spot where the creature last stood. "Don't count on it, I think that thing was gone before the salt even made it halfway to him." He spits out, shaking his head in anger.
The fog begins to close in around them again, more dense and thicker this time. The air heavier, it feels like it's pressing down on them like a boulder. All around them, the whispers swirl, turn from low voices into guttural growls. Shadows dance between the trees, darting so fast, they're too quick to track.
"This isn't just one creature Dean," Sam realizes, his voice barely audible over the growling. "It's as if the whole forest is alive and angry."
Dean grits his teeth and shakes his head. "Just great! A haunted forest. That's just peachy."
A sudden, loud crash to their left makes them jump, then spin around. Something enormous moves in the shadows, its steps heavy and calculated. Dean loads another shell into his shotgun, his hands steady and calm despite the adrenaline pumping through him. "Sammy, you stay close."
Before they can move or even react, a massive, solid force slams into Dean, knocking him off his feet. He slams into the ground hard, the shotgun falling from his hands. Sam flips around, catching a glimpse of something huge and antlered moving deeper into the fog fading like a whisper.
"Dean!" Sam shouts, running to his brother's side. Dean groans, clutching his side as he manages to sit up.
"I'm fine," he groans, with a grimace. "Whatever that damn thing is, it's strong and fast. It literally came out of nowhere."
Sam helps him up onto his feet, his eyes darting around the forest for any signs of life or movement. "We need to head back to town, find a way to regroup. Figure out what just what in the hell we're dealing with here."
Dean nods reluctantly, his gaze still fixed on the swirling fog. "Yeah. But first, we're grabbing my shotgun."
Sam grabs the gun and hands it back to Dean, who checks the barrel and reloads it. They turn, slowly and cautiously as they head back toward the Impala, their senses on high alert. The forest seems to change and shift around them as they move through the trees. The path was twisting and turning in ways that it shouldn't be possible for it to do.
"It's trying to keep us here," Sam says, his voice tight and low. "We need to move faster."
"Yeah, easier said than done," Dean replies, glancing over his shoulder wincing. "This place is like a freakin' maze."
The growls are louder now, as they move closer. The fog grows thicker until they can barely see one another. Then, just as suddenly as it began, everything stops. The noise stops, the air becomes eerily still, the forest is silent and calm.
"Dean?" Sam whispers, his voice slicing through the silence.
"Yeah," Dean replies, his grip tightening on the shotgun. "I don't like this either Sammy."
A low, menacing laugh echoes through the fog, causing their blood to go cold. The shadows merged ahead of them, the figure forming once more. This time, its face rapidly changes, flipping through familiar and unfamiliar faces, their father, old victims, even their own faces twisted in evil grins.
"You cannot escape me," the figure growls, its voice a distorted, a blend of many different voices wrapped into one. "You belong to us; you belong to the forest now."
"Yeah, I don't think so pal," Dean growls, raising his shotgun again. He fires, but the figure disappears before the salt can hit it. The brothers turn and break into a run, the thick, cold fog closing in behind them as if it's a living thing.
They can see the clearing just ahead of them, Sam glances back and can see shadows dancing in the fog as they chase after the brothers. Finally, they make it to the edge of the forest and rush out into the clearing where the Impala waits, the air suddenly much lighter. They pause as they catch their breath, giving a quick glance back toward the tree line.
"What in the absolute hell was that?" Dean demands, wiping sweat from his brow.
Sam shakes his head, his mind racing. "I don't know. But it's, it's not just one creature Dean. It's the forest itself or something controlling it. Hell this entire area is probably affected, we are in the middle of the Appalachian mountains where there are a lot of Native American legends." He runs his fingers through his hair. "We need to figure out what's going on, what's keeping it here. As we were running away from the fog or whatever it was, I saw what I think is an altar about 100 yards from the clearing. That altar might be the key to figuring this out."
Dean glances at the fog-shrouded trees, his jaw clinched tight. "Whatever it is, it's gonna wish it stayed hidden and had never messed with us. I say we gear up and get back in there, figure this the hell out."
Sam looks at him, in disbelief. "Dean, we barely made it out of that forest with our lives."
Dean grins, his confidence unshaken. "Yeah, but now we know it bleeds. And if it bleeds…" he says as he wipes the blood off his jacket. Sam looks at him nervously worried that the blood was Dean's. "It's not my blood Sammy, it's whatever hit me in the forest's blood. So, I'll say it again, we know it bleeds, and if it bleeds…"
"We can kill it," Sam finishes, nodding with a nervous smile.
The brothers crawl into the Impala, Dean turns the key and smiles as the engine roars to life. As they drive back toward Hollow Creek, the fog lingers there behind them, just at the edge of the forest, watching, waiting.