WhoNautral - 10th Doctor/Supernatural

18

Half-rotted floorboards creaked in protest under the weight of even the deliberately soft footfalls of the small group, advancing further into the dark maw of the abandoned barn. Dean took the lead, flashlight in hand, its beam piercing the darkness. Sam followed, with The Doctor trailing anxiously behind. Every now and then they would hear the howling of the wind, battering softly against the fragile window panes as it picked up speed. Dean proceeded slowly but with purpose, one hand placed firmly on the gun at his hip. He panned across the room with his flashlight methodically, the knowledge that he had done this more times than he could count staving off his nerves. Sam took care to place his feet almost exactly where Dean did before him, in order to keep the noise level to a minimum. He watched his brother's back diligently, but not without a great many questions swimming around in his brain. This occurred often enough, now even more so that The Doctor had come on board, but something about this whole thing just didn't feel...right. Granted, their very job description was to deal with the unnatural, but this was different. Very rarely did they return to a case that had been solved, the problem either eradicated or at least put on the back-burner. So being back here, after he was almost certain they had rid the place of vampires, felt undoubtedly wrong. However, Sam did not feel it appropriate to voice his concerns aloud to the group in the tension and the dark, so he kept them to himself for the time being. The Doctor was skittish, the slightest creak or moan of the place causing him to startle in fear. Pull yourself together, he scolded himself. Then again, he argued in his defence, this is what he could definitely call being 'out of his comfort zone'. He liked the feeling of being in control of a situation, of knowing what he was doing; maybe so much so that he was suffering withdrawals in desperation to have that confidence returned to him. For now, though, all that could be done was to follow instructions: for once he was not the one ordering people around, and he didn't like it at all. Dean's footsteps suddenly stopped, and with each of them caught up in their own world of thoughts, this caused Sam to walk straight into Dean, and The Doctor into Sam, causing everyone to stumble to a stop.

"Really, guys?" Dean hissed. A chorus of hushed 'sorry!'s rose up from the other two, but Dean only shushed them fiercely. "Listen." Sam looking over Dean's shoulder and The Doctor looking over Sam's, they only now noticed that they had come to a door at the foot of a staircase. One flight rose above them, stopping before the second-floor landing due to the rickety stairs having weakened to the point of collapse. The other set of stairs led down underneath them, leading to what looked like a basement. This wasn't the main object of their focus, however. As Dean quieted the others, a soft noise could be heard from behind the door they had crowded around. He placed an ear to the wood, listening intently. A low humming noise emanated from the other side. Sam leaned forward in order to hear better, and The Doctor hung back reluctantly.

"Is that door...buzzing?" He asked reluctantly. Dean's hand hovered tentatively over the doorknob.

"I guess there's only one way to find out," he reasoned, pulling out his gun with one hand and grasping the knob with the other. "Ready?" He turned to the others. Sam gave a short nod, steeling himself.

"No, but do it anyway." Came The Doctor's weak response. Without waiting for further pressing, Dean opened the door.

The first thing that became immediately apparent was the smell. It was the same smell that they had encountered in the morgue, but multiplied by ten, somehow alerting them to what was there even before the door had opened all the way.

"Oh God..." Dean recoiled, coughing. Bodies, and lots of them, looked as though they had been shoved carelessly into the small area. They seemed to have met the same fate as their John Doe in the morgue; that is, skinned from head to toe, their pink flesh illuminated by a flickering light hanging from the ceiling. A swarm of flies rose up from the corpses, their meal having been disturbed. Sam closed his eyes for a moment, as if to centre himself from the ghastly sight. The Doctor stared for a moment before he buckled, his legs giving out.