"Hellhounds? I thought you were more creative then that"
"They're called classics for a reason"
No matter how many times I see it, empty towns still continue to give me the creeps. Sets me on the edge faster than anything because there is no danger in sight... but it's around. Driving through Carthage I can feel it in the air. Like a suffocating blanket over the town. Leaning forwards in the Impala's backseat, I narrow my gaze out the windshield. There's not a soul in sight. Stores built under apartments completely stocked and windows unshattered. Cars are neatly parked along the sidewalk. It's like everyone just... vanished.
Slowing the car to a steady stop, the brothers retract their hands grasping phones from outside their respective windows. No signal so no Bobby. Super. "Am I the only one thinking", I quietly voice amongst our tense silence "That this doesn't bode well for us?"
"When has an empty city meant anything other than bad news?" Sam quietly agrees, staring sketchily out his window.
Besides us, Ellen's truck rolls to a halt "Place seems a little empty to you?"
With a brief nod, Dean motions out his window to the left "We'll check out the PD. You guys stay here. See if you can find anybody."
"I'll stay too", I'm already sliding out of the car "Highly doubt there's going to be any officers spared."
Huffing agreeable, Jo hoists herself down from the passenger seat "Or people."
"Well keep an eye out", Dean ignores our complaining "Okay?"
His gaze flickering to me I nod affirmatively. Deciding against pointing out his trip will be pointless. Quietly I watch the Impala roar around the corner and out of my view. Striding with Jo around to Ellen on the footpath I notice Castiel still sat in the passenger seat. I just roll my eyes considering the behaviour seems to be pretty standard. Although Jo knocks gently against the windshield, "Ever heard of a door handle?"
Suddenly apparaiting on the sidewalk, she leaps back "Of course I have."
Joe shooting me a look I simply shrug with a lazy smirk. She should've known better by now. However, the concerned look on his face isn't so typical of the Angel. Silently he gazes around the street as if taking something in. "Cas?" I warily voice, looking around the vicinity "What is it?"
"The town is not empty", he continues gazing around "Reapers."
"Reapers?" Ellen repeats astonished "As in more than one?"
Furrowing his brows, Castiel looks around behind me and I shift uncomfortably "They only gather like this in time of great catastrophe. Chicago Fire, San Francisco Quake, Pompeii." Striding along the footpath, Castiel excuses himself to understand the Reaper's appearance. However, I could argue that it's hardly a mission of connecting the dots. Reapers are omens of death that come to lead a soul into the afterlife. Whatever comes neck. Either there has been a huge amount of death in Carthage or there very well will be.
"Well we're not going to find anybody standing around like this", Ellen trails back to her truck "Let's go girls."
Giving me pierce of mind my hand trails the Dean's ring hung loosely around my neck. I can't shake the eerie feeling in my gut gazing out the window of Ellen's moving truck. Nothing here feels right. The Devil is here in a town brimming with Reapers. That's a thought that does nothing to settle the apprehension gnawing at me.
The truck rolls to a stop when we find the station. Taking in there alone, I presume to be correct in my earlier thoughts. Something has certainly happened to these townsfolk. Echoing my thoughts, Dean says "Stations empty."
"So is everything else", Jo agrees to lean over her mom.
Leaning to peak in the truck, Sam seems to do a headcount "Cas?"
"Hold onto your bootstraps", I shove the back door open, jumping down to nod around "Cause Cas says we have Reapers in town."
"Reapers?"
Glancing between the brothers, I singularly nod "As in plural."
Apprehensively, Dean glances down the street "Dare I ask where?"
"Everywhere", green eyes snapping back to me, I defensively step away. Don't kill the messenger. Raising my boot I hook it onto the truck step and unsheathe my iron dagger.
Comfort brought on as I begin thoughtfully twirling it around "You mean to tell me we've been in town twenty minutes and you're already lost the Angel up our sleeve?"
"I'm sorry Pet Barn was all of the Angelic leashes", I sigh I glance around the town as if hoping Cas would reappear with a single thought. When that doesn't happen, I assess "We need to re-evaluate."
"Do you uh", Sam hesitates "Reckon Lucifer got him?"
Sighing, Dean pumps his shotgun "I don't know what else to think."
"Why don't you ask me?" Guns snap up as I turn on my heel. Meg. Ginning like a she's just won the damn Demon lotto. With a haughty stare, she pockets her hands "Shouldn't have come here."
"Yeah", Dean strides forward, pulling back Colt's safety with a definitive click directing the barrel to her head "Well I could say the same thing about you."
Unphased, Meg shifts the weight she hangs on her heeled boots "Didn't come here alone Dean-o." Suddenly, the cleared road is humming with collective growls. Water droplets kicked up from the damp surface. Clenching my jaw, I try to remain composed when there's a vicious snarl by my left flank. Way too close for comfort. Ellen, however, sends a cautious glance back at me. My body is closer than I would prefer to be. Aware of the padding feet, I give Ellen a single nod. "Hellhounds?" I smooth my worried words over with cynicism, iron smoothly sailing around my fingers "I thought you were more creative then that."
"They're called classics for a reason", Meg bitterly smiles. Only met with hardened silence, Meg sighs heavily "My father wants to speak with you all."
"I think we'll pass" Sam intimidatingly snaps his shotgun "Thanks."
"Your call" Megs obviously raises her hands, the decision out of her hands "You can make this easy or you can make it really... really... hard."
Deeply around us, the hellhounds grow antsier and I feel myself flexing my fingers. Already preparing to dig in and run. Forget the car that's not going to hold up against a dozen hellhounds. That's precisely all we can do here. Run. So when Dean subtly tilts his head and catches my eye I send him an affirmative nod. Mimicking the action for me, Dean rolls his neck back around to Meg "When have you known us to ever make anything easy?"
Diverting the gun Dean pulls the trigger. The loaded Colt shoots a bullet right at the hound and I'm not dumb enough to wait for the hit. The squeal from the hound is enough to know it's a mark. However, listening to Meg whistle behind me I don't think the shot is going to matter much as they're released after us. A scratch at my heels has me barely contain a yelp of panic. Although seeing Dean faltering behind us my concern spikes. I lost him to hellhounds once. It's not happening again.
Reaching for his arm I shove him ahead despite his stubborn protest for me to run. Wrenching the Colt from his hands, I whirl it around and fire at the hound directly on my heels. The Demonic little shit lighting up like a bonfire of ash.
One minute my boots are slamming a million miles against the road. The next I'm colliding against the cold wet road. Panic gripping every beat of my heart. Scampering onto my back I shove against the grip I have on the hound booting it clumsily away. I try to get a pinpoint of where it is from its paws on the ground as I hastily shove myself backward. Dean and Sam yelling almost unheard as the hounds snarl viciously near. Raising my boot I'm abruptly overwhelmed with pain as I see it tear into my thigh. Fisting the iron dagger I fight past the searing pain and drive it into the hound that falls limp on me. Tip slashing right into it's skull.
Slammed into the road from the fallen weight I struggle to shove its invisible body off me. Then, the weight disappears entirely and Dean's iron clad grasp grabs hold of my arm growling for me to run. And I try. I do but I get five steps before my legs give way and my hands catch me from face planting the road. "Baby get up!", Dean's arms under me, a shot fires close over my head as he pleads "You need to move it El! You need to run!" As if he can see that agony on my face when I move my leg, dean's yanking my arm over his shoulder and supporting the weight my leg can't carry. Suddenly a jaw snags onto my boot and I'm yanked back down. Dean's quick grasp on mine was the only thing halting the hound from hauling me back down the road. Pain tearing up my leg as it shakes at me but I can't fight it off. The only thing keeping me is Dean's iron-clad grasp on my hands. Desperate green eyes searching for an out.
Shotgun blast sounding over the snarling dogs I abruptly lag into Dean who tugs me upright. Jo ripping off shot after shot into that pack at our heels. "Go!" she shoves me into Dean who gets a firm grasp around my deadweight "Run El! Move!" Another shot fires and I decide to drop my dagger altogether and run. Move as fast as I can with Dean picking up the pace I can't keep.
An ear-piercing scream stops us dead in my tracks and I snap around. My heartbeat spiking watching Jo flying into the road. Unlike me, she wasn't ready and she isn't fast enough. She gets off one last shot before a scream that could curdle your should is released and Jo's body launches on the road. Blood sprays and spurs from her stomach so audaciously that I almost fall down from shock. Snatching the Colt from Dean I shove him towards Jo by a fistful of his jacket. He hesitates for a second but I shove him again. Screaming for him to grab Jo.
Stubbornly ignoring the sharp paint hat rips up my leg Sam orders me to grab his arm as we provide what little cover fire we could. Dean scooped up Jo to run our way. Pushing on my upper thigh to force its stability I clumsily sprint inside the hardware store. My soaked and bloodied hands leave red trails my leg completely gives way when I collapse at the pallet of salt. Grasping the salt bags release an agonized grunt shoving myself up onto my working leg. Propelling myself towards the door as Dean rushes Jo inside. Sam and Ellen slam the doors and push against them as the glass precariously rattles against the hound's attack. Tearing the salt bag with my teeth I ignore Sam's grabby hands and dump the thickest salt line in front of the door. Rushing back from the counter with an iron chain Dean trades places with Ellen. Wrapping it around the door handles as tight as possible both brothers step back and my breathing pauses.
It holds.
That's when Jo becomes the priority. Her labored breath traveling down to me I glass down to see Jo leaning slumped against the register bench. Appearing frighteningly pale and sweaty I don't take it as a promising sign. Not a bite. "Guys!" Ellen's desperate voice pleads, hands to Jo's wound "Guys I need help!" Swallowing the lump in my throat I push myself up on my good leg and hobble towards Jo.
Completely giving up on it to collapse at her side. "Hey", I quietly speak to Ellen, my voice wavering in a way I didn't appreciate it this moment "Let me look." And she does. With a hesitant hand, Ellen eases the pressure off and Jo releases a shaky agonizing whimper. It's deep. Very deep. As blood immediately streams out I yank off my jacket and press it down. Through heavy uneven breaths, Jo clenches her jaw but I still hear her groan. We all do. Pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth I blink away the tears welling in my eyes at the sight of Jo "It wasn't that hard you big baby."
Her breathing grows increasingly rapid and the smile I manage to hear barely lingers. And when I look into Ellen's eyes... I witness a mother's world-shattering. It was utterly heartbreaking.
"You're going to be right", Ellen strokes Jo's hair "I promise. You're going to be alright."
{}{}{}
"You're an idiot", Dean reprimands closing tight the manager's office door, a bottle of vodka and a rag in hand "You had one job. Run." Silently, I continue to hold the store's tool rag against the tear in my thigh. Rested against the wall, I remain clutching my throbbing thigh as Dean takes a seat in front of me. Swallowing hard, my head inclines against the dirty yellow wall. "I love that you're a god damn fighter", Dean mutters grimly under his breath "But you terrify the crap outta me sometimes."
"I know", I quietly reach to trail my fingers through his hair, Dean's shoulders dropping at the small comfort. As if the worry and concern were numbed by the touch of my moving fingers. Hand holding the vodka Dean rests his other hand on my knees. Thumb grazing back and forth in a way that has me wonder if that's soothing him or me. Dean laying his head on my shin I feel his staggered breath breezing the skin. As if releasing the very thought from his mind that anything might've happened to me. Taking a moment to remember I'm still here breathing with him. Heavily sighing, Dean leans back into the squeaking chair "You want to move that hand of yours so I can get a better look?"
"Not particularly."
Seeing me eye the Vodka in his hand, Dean raises it suggestively "It's this or tetanus." Knowing it's the right thing doesn't make the situation any easier. For a long moment in time, I do continue to stare at the bottle and wonder if it's worth it. However, the obvious reasons out way any hesitancy fleeting through me. Dean catches the glimmer in my eye and his hand rests over mine. Overlapping, I slide my hands away and leave him to hold the pressure. Dean spares me another concerned look before peeling off the bloodied cloth I'd been pressing. Immediately blood begins to ooze from the deep gashes that hellhounds left in my thigh. "Good news", Dean gingerly presses the sides, sending me that dumb sideways smirk "I dig a chick with scars."
Clenching my jaw, I tighten my fists as pain shoots through my legs "You know just because the thought goes through your head doesn't mean it has to come out of your mouth."
"So touchy." Rolling his eyes when he receives a deathly glare, he backtracks "Well it doesn't seem like it got your artery. Will need stitches though- a lot of stitches."
"So in the meantime", I eye off the vodka bottle, "We douse it in methylated spirits, tie it up and hope for the best?"
Pausing, Dean shrugs his shoulders "Pretty much the only option we have in a hardware store." Knowing he's right I meekly nodded. Hovering the bottle over the wound my deep breaths to steady myself begin to quiver. Balancing a clean rag in his other hand, Dean gives me a wary once over "You good?" Nothing comes to mind. I can only muster a weak nod to give Dean the god ahead. Jo is literally bleeding out on the floor on the other side of the wall. I think you can handle a splash of vodka.
Alas, when Dean finally decides to pour it over the dense bleeding gash a scream unleashes from my throat. Slamming my fists against the wooden desk the bangs echo monstrously around the room no louder than the curses flailing from my lips. Dean's tight steady grasp on my shin keeps my leg composed. "I'm sorry sweetheart", Dean apologises, clearly having pained him to do it "I'm so damn sorry."
All I can do is nod as Dean gently tightens the rag around the gashes best he can. Another tugged tightly over the top to control any bleeding that might occur between now and when we get out. I slide my legs off the table I take Dean's hand and guide myself down. The weight I place on my leg is gently excruciating. "We need to figure out why the Devil's here and why the towns are empty", I repeat my words from earlier, clenching my jaw to control the agony in my voice "We need Bobby."
"Phones are down" Dean dismisses the idea abruptly "You'd have better luck with a paper airplane."
"Winchesters", I bare the pain and hobble towards the office door "Always so literal."