Detachment Chapter One
Characters: Dean, John, Caleb, Pastor Jim, mentions of Sam
Spoilers: Nothing too blatant but most probably some mild spoilers.
Disclaimer: I wish. I don't own anything that pretty and broken.
Summary: Dean gets injured on a solo hunt after Sam leaves for college. Angst ensues. Major HurtDean!
Author's Note: I've been sitting on this story for a while now and it is already finished, but not typed (yes I do write them on paper first) hides face so the chapters shouldn't be too long in coming. -
Dean stood before the trunk of the Impala frowning. He was about to head into the woods surrounding SmallPath, Minnesota. He had been at Pastor Jim's place with his Dad waiting to meet up with Caleb for another hunt when he had caught wind of some, possibly supernatural, activity down here. He had come to check it out while his Dad and Caleb went after a particularly nasty demon Caleb had found.
Dean opened the trunk, lifted the false bottom and surveyed his array of weaponry. There was something about this hunt that bothered him. He had talked to the locals, looked at the newspaper archives and scoped out the woods. Those who encountered the possible victim of his next hunt described a large dark dog-like creature. The strange thing was that it hadn't attacked anyone only growled at them from afar. Dean had been ready to write this one off as some feral dog when it changed its M.O. last night. The thing when after a little girl, and ripped her to pieces.
Dean had seen her in town and seeing her…remains at the morgue had hit him hard. He didn't yet know what the creature was but he suspected a werewolf was the culprit. He knew he was being foolhardy, going after the thing without knowing what it was, but he had to do something. The little girl… he remembered seeing her in the park…
…Dean was sitting on a park bench thinking over the last conversation he had had. He could hear kids laughing in the field behind him and felt a small tap on his foot. He looked down and saw the bright red ball the kids had been playing with had rolled away from them. He bent to pick it up looking up when a little girl bounced over. He smiled at her and handed the ball over. She smiled back him, her smile full of childish innocence.
"Thanks Mister!" She beamed. Dean grinned and watched as she skipped back to her friends…
He had to do something before more kids go hurt. He could almost hear Sam reaming him out.
"What is it with you and kids man? I mean, the minute a hunt involves kids, its like you become obsessed with finding the thing. Well, more obsessed."
Dean grimaced, Sam was right, kids were his Achilles heel in hunting, well kids and Sammy but those two were probably related. Surveying his weapons once again, he grabbed a riffle, loaded it with silver bullets and slung it over his shoulder. To that he added a pistol he tucked into his pants at the small of his back and several silver daggers hidden in easy-to-reach places. Lastly, he strapped a machete on his back, making sure he could reach it easily.
Feeling as prepared as he could be, Dean slipped on his jacket and closed the trunk. Steeling himself, he headed into the silent forest.
After an hour of hiking, he reached the clearing where the thing had been spotted before. Looking around he crouched behind a rock and settled down to wait.
Two hours later Dean hadn't moved and was beginning wonder if the thing would show before he turned to stone when all hell broke loose.
He heard it before he saw it, crackling in the underbrush, slinking through the trails, it crept into the clearing. Dean slowly raised his rifle and set his sights on the thing's heart. The darkness prevented him from seeing it clearly but he could make out its general shape. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, a set of claws raked his back, digging in deep and ripping across, leaving trails of liquid fire.
He stifled a cry as he was flung into the rock he'd been crouched behind and dimly heard his rifle go off. He looked up in time to see another creature advancing on him he cursed as he dove away, scrambling behind a tree – and coming face to face with a third creature.
Grabbing his pistol, he brought it up in one swift movement and fired four rounds point blank into the thing's chest. Without glancing at it, he dove away, once more scrambling for cover. He glanced back into the clearing as he came up behind the other two things. Pistol in one hand, dagger in the other, he slid between the two, burying the dagger hilt deep in one's chest as he fired off three rounds into the second.
Turning, he found himself hurtling through the air. He smashed into a tree and the edges of his vision began to blur. As he struggled to remain conscious, he heard on the things plod over to him. Dean looked up and saw his dagger emerging from its chest, dark liquid oozing on to the forest floor. Okay, he thought, apparently daggers don't work. As the thing raised a massive paw, claws unsheathed, Dean struggled to raise his own arm. It brought its paw down onto his chest and he heard several somethings crack before he felt the agony of those claws ripping down, across his chest.
As the thing raised up once more, preparing to deliver the fatal blow, Dean thought of Sam. Sammy who had left him and his dad to pursue the life he had always wanted. Sam who in that one action, had made his heart burst with pride and break with despair. Sam who would blame himself for his brother's death for the rest of his life. He couldn't do that to Sam, to his dad, he had to live through this. So, with his family's faces in his mind's eye, he gathered al his remaining strength, raised his arm, and emptied the clip into the things unprotected chest.
It was thrown backwards with the force of the bullets and let out a mournful cry before it lay still. Silence fell over the forest once more and in the clearing he could see the other two things he had killed. Dean slowly hauled himself up dreading the task he now faced, salting and burning the bones.
He focused on his job and pushed his pain to the back of his mind, forcing himself over to the three things he had killed. He dragged all three bodies over to the fire circle he had prepared earlier and burned them. The flames rose, consuming the bodies of the still-unknown creatures. Dean stared at the smouldering corpses and gathered moisture in his mouth. "Rot in hell you sons of bitches" he slurred as he spat onto the pile of ashes. Glancing at the remains once more, he turned and began the slow, arduous walk back to the car. He staggered back through the woods, trying to stay on the path and cursing the effects the bloodloss was having on him. As stumbled once again, he focused on one thing, he had to get to Blue Earth, he had to get to his dad. He repeated the thought in his head like a mantra, propelling him forward.
Get to Dad, he can help, Get to Dad, he can help, Get to Dad, he can help, Get to Dad, he can help, Get to Dad…