Cowboys and Angels (A Dean Winchester/ Supernatural FanFiction)

Chapter 8: 21 Guns

Chapter 8: 21 Guns

Dean traced Sam's cell phone signal back to the Inn. We went sliding into the parking lot. I jumped out before Dean had even come to a complete stop, racing up the stairs only to run straight into the automatic sliding glass doors that lead inside. They wouldn't open. I looked through the glass. All of the lights were out inside except one emergency hallway light which was flickering. Eventually it went out too.

"Looks like something knocked the power out. How're we gonna get in," Dean asked as he came running up behind me.

"Like this," I said throwing a powerful roundhouse kick, shattering the glass. Dean stared at me, surprised.

"How-," but I cut him off.

"Now is not the time," I said sliding through the metal frame and inside the building, flinching as some of the larger shards of glass left on the frame cut into my back and my calves. Turning, I pushed the rest of the shards out, allowing for Dean to pass through without getting a scratch. I shook my now cut up and bleeding hands, wiping the blood on my skirt. Dean eyed me, concern flashing in his beautiful green eyes. I flicked my hand dismissively.

"I've had worse. There's no need to worry." He sighed, pulling his handgun out of the waistband of his pants. I pulled mine out of my holster. We made our way around the corner. It was completely silent. I looked behind the front desk only to find the shredded body of the poor receptionist lying there. I grimaced. If only we had been faster. I grabbed a blanket from one of the couches in the sitting area, laying it over her body.

"Let's hope she's the only casualty," Dean said turning towards the door that led to the stairwell we had used when we first got here. I followed him, my eyes widening when I saw the claw marks that scored the walls and the door. Dean gently traced them, pure terror flashing in his eyes. I knew he wasn't scared for us, he was scared for his brother and his best friend. He was scared of what we might find upstairs-whether it be their bodies or nothing at all.

I coaxed him along, opening the door to the stairwell and allowing him to go first. We followed the claw marks up the stairs and out onto the second floor landing. The door to the hallway itself was missing. It had been flung against the back wall and now lay in a pile of splintered wood on the floor. I exchanged a wary glance with Dean, taking a step into the dark hallway. I could just barely make out more claw marks on the walls up here.

More doors had been thrown open. Some were hanging on their hinges and others had been torn off completely. I looked into each of the rooms. They looked to be empty, but on further inspection I found more dead bodies. I covered them each with sheets out of respect. Dean did the same with the people he found. We looked at each other. Tears were starting to gather at the edge of my eyes.

"None of this should've happened. We should've been faster," I said clenching my fist. The older brother gave a small nod, turning and making his way down the hallway, holding his gun at the ready. I followed and we cautiously made our way to our room. The door stood wide open, but it hadn't sustained nearly as much damage as the other doors. This gave me some hope. Sam and Cas might actually be okay. The creature might not have gotten to them, but that small flame went out when I saw the claw marks on the walls as I walked in and I saw how the furniture had been thrown around.

The curtains had been shredded, letting in some light. I examined the room, looking for any bodies. I was expecting the worst, but hoping for the best. The couch had been flipped against the wall. The lamp laid in pieces on the floor along with the bedside table and what looked to be the mini fridge that had been on top of the desk. The desk itself was gone, and wood lay scattered across the room. The bed frames lay upside down nearly on top of each other. The mattresses had been ripped to shred, springs sticking out of the plush fabric along with foam. The sheets looked to be burnt.

I picked one of them up, watching as the burnt pieces crumbled in my palm, turning to ash. That was when I heard something hit the ground. I looked down to see a silver bullet lying there, glinting in the light filtering through the shredded curtains. I bent down, picking up and licking it, grimacing as the familiar metallic taste of silver washed over my tongue.

"Dean," I called, turning and holding up the bullet. "There's only one thing we know that's weak to both silver and fire."

"Wendigo," someone gasped from behind me. I whipped around to find Cas, our poor fallen angel, lying in a heap in the back corner. Part of the couch lay on top of him. I bolted over, picking up the couch and throwing it to the side, bending down and inspecting him. He was covered in scratches, the most severe ones residing on his cheek and down his right arm. I gently reached down; attempting to help him sit up, but he pushed my hands away.

"It's still here." Those words made my heart skip a beat as adrenaline and fear heightened my senses.

"Where's Sam," I said, trying to stay calm. Cas lifted a weak hand, motioning towards the bed frames. Dean rushed over there, lifting the bottom one up. I saw a large, Sam sized shadow lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Dean carefully pulled his brother out, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Sam," he breathed, shaking his brother. I made my way over, bending down and laying two fingers on his neck. I could make out his pulse, but it was faint.

"He's alive, but he won't last much longer," I said sadly. The poor brother was covered in deep gashes and his shirt was stiff with fresh as well as dried blood. A lot of his wounds were still bleeding. I pulled another one of the sheets off of the bed, ripping it into strips.

"Try and stop the bleeding. I'm going to see if I can find the damned thing," I hissed standing up. Dean grabbed my hand, stopping me.

"You can't go alone. You'll get yourself killed. And besides, it knows these two aren't dead, so it will come back to finish the job. We have to protect them, so hide. We'll have to try ambushing it." I sighed, nodding and making my way back over to Cas, pulling the couch in front of us to serve as a barrier as well as to block us from sight.

The fallen angel reached up and I looked down, wrapping my arms around his midsection and gently helping him sit up. He leaned weakly against my shoulder, holding out his hand. I looked down to find a silver lighter sitting there. I gently took it from him, looking around for my bag. I found it thrown against the back wall, some of my stuff spilling out. I crawled over to it, pushing everything back in, rummaging through it until I found my can of hairspray as well as two cartridges filled with silver bullets.

I reloaded my handgun, throwing the other cartridge to Dean as well as the lighter and can of hairspray. He nodded in thanks, going back to dressing Sam's wounds. I grabbed my water bottle from my bag before sneaking back over to Cas, taking off my already ripped blouse and tearing it up, pouring water on the strips, dabbing at Cas's wounds, cleaning them to the best of my ability. I dressed all of them except the one on his cheek, just making sure that that one had stopped bleeding.

That was when the temperature in the room seemed to drop. I shivered, my skin crawling. Seconds later a shadow was cast over me and Cas. Dean called out just as I turned around to find the Wendigo directly above us. My eyes widened as I scrambled for my gun, aiming and pulling the trigger. The bullet went sailing through its faint outline of a body, causing it to disappear for a split second before appearing again-but this time it was enraged. It let out a hair-raising screech.

I jumped back, flipping over the couch, calling out and shooting the floor to catch its attention. Luckily it headed straight for me instead of turning on Cas. It dove straight for me. Dean rolled to the side past Sam, but just as he raised the lighter and popped the top off of the hairspray there was a bright flash and the monster went flying back. White light was emanating from my body. Pain split though my back, but it disappeared a split second later along with the light. The monster screamed in terror. Dean flipped over the lighter, sending a stream of hairspray into the flame.

A huge flame erupted, engulfing the monster. It went flying through the window, the glass shattering, shards going in every direction. I dove to the side, shielding Cas, gritting my teeth as the sharp shards cut into and embedded themselves in my bare back. A final screech rang through the thick air before everything fell silent again. I stood up, making my way over to the shattered window, looking down at the parking lot below.

A faint outline of a body was visible, the ground circling it enveloped in fading flames. Eventually even these flames went out, signaling the end of our struggle. I sighed in relief, sitting down on the edge of the overturned couch, leaning back and offering Cas a hand. He took it and I pulled him up beside me. After awhile, Sam finally regained consciousness. Dean helped him stand up, wrapping his brother's arm around his neck, so he could support him.

"We need to get out of here," Dean said sitting his brother down beside me. Sam leaned against my shoulder, his face scrunched up in pain. I gently rubbed his back, gathering him against me, trying to comfort him.

"I'll get our stuff together; just make sure he stays still." I nodded, watching as Dean quickly moved around the room, gathering what little was left of our stuff that hadn't been destroyed, stuffing it in our bags. He grabbed my bag, throwing it to me. I caught it, catching Cas's bag when Dean threw it my way, too, and handing it to Cas. Then Dean grabbed his bag and Sam's bag before taking his brother under his wing again, helping him out of the room.

I gently guided Cas alongside me, making sure he didn't pass out. We made our way back down the stairs and into the lobby. I pulled out my phone, calling 911, telling them that the power had gone out, but not giving any details on what the situation was like really like inside. I cast one last sidelong glance back at the poor Inn before getting into my Camaro. Cas sat down in the passenger seat, closing the door and leaning back, exhaustion apparent on his face.

I pulled my heels off, throwing them in the backseat and grabbing my leather jacket from my bag, slipping it on and zipping it up so it could serve as my make-shift shirt seeing as my other clean clothes were in the trunk. I glanced over at Dean as I started the car. He was helping Sam into the passenger seat, making sure his brother was comfortable before getting in the car himself and starting the Impala.

"It's hard to find people with a bond as strong as theirs," Cas said following my gaze. I nodded, signaling Dean that we were ready when he looked over at us. He pulled out of the parking lot and we followed, getting out of that town as fast as possible. We passed the police cars and the ambulance's that had been dispatched to the Inn on our way out. I bowed my head out of respect and as an apology to all of the people who had died thanks to our ignorance.

And I did it for Dylan, who would probably hear about the mass murder and blame us for being late. Cas and I sat in silence as we sped down the highway behind the Impala. Eventually the poor, injured fallen angel fell asleep, something that was probably new to him, but something he was probably grateful for. I stared at the road ahead, wishing that all of this had played out differently-played out in a way so that no one else had died.

But that was the problem. Death was a part of life-a tragic, painful part of life. Every single one of those people back at the Inn; however, didn't deserve to die. Curse Death and his Reapers, every single one of them and the man himself for casting that tragic fate on them. There are days where I wonder what it's like to have that job. Sentencing people, whether their innocent or not, to death and watching as the Reaper's took their souls, stealing their confused minds away and leading them out of this black and white world to either Heaven or Hell. I knew it couldn't be an easy job, but I guess it had to be done.

I would assume that after an eternity of stealing lives away that you would grow numb-unable to feel pity for begging victims wishing to return to the cruel world they had come from. My only question is why would they want to go back? To live in a world where peace is a long lost thought, love is a far-fetched game, and death is a welcome sacrifice-it seemed too... realistic. Yet, somehow we managed to survive, holding onto straining strings of hope.

That was the thing about people like us-- we, no, I don't have anything to hold onto. I'm falling endlessly through all of the pain. Sam, Cas, and Dean had each other, but I, well, I didn't have anyone.



A/N: Here's the next chapter! I apologize if this was depressing. I just feel like this is the reality of being a hunter. And, don't get me wrong, I LOVE Death because he's badass, but I would never be able to imagine having his job, especially after seeing what it did to Dean. That a good episode though.


Oh and just a friendly reminder, it's less than a month until the premiere of Season 9!

Anyway, don't forget to vote and comment! I really appreciate constructive criticism! I would also just like to thank everyone for over 100 votes! I never imagined that this would ever get this many votes. It was just a small idea at first, but now I have a lot planned.

~SilverRaine/Hannah