my story. I've decided to take it a little further just to see what happens. I just want to mention that anyone who writes on here will agree when I say that an author thrives off of reviews, so please, I will continue to write more to this story, but I need to hear your reviews so I can learn where I need work. Thanks a bunch, now on with the story...
Sam tied the grenade into place with mesh wire and pulled the pin. He ran and hid behind a nearby grave next to Bobby. The grenade exploded and the doors to the crypt slammed open releasing Hell's fury. Both hunters stood and watched the gathering black cloud cirlcing the top of the crypt, desperately seeking escape. They would deal with that when they returned. With one final glance at each other, Sam let loose a war cry and charged the gate to Hell with Bobby bringing up the rear.
Once Sam had told Dean that nothing in the world could stop him from protecting his brother. Nothing. Sam would take on all of Hell if it meant keeping Dean safe, and he had every intention of doing just that.
Sam let loose his war cry and didn't even flinch as Hell screamed right back. Torrents of fiery wind whipped Sam's hair and clothes all about as he let off a round of rock salt shots at the swirling black cloud that sought escape. Shrieks of rage echoed through the air. Sam just continued shooting as he rushed the crypt, his eyes wet with determination. Save Dean or die trying, nothing was going to stop him.
Bobby stayed hot on Sam's tail, watching his back as any loyal friend would, and made a note that if they somehow managed to make it through this, he was going to beat Sam until he was at least two feet shorter. This was by far the craziest, stupidest, most courageous thing he had ever seen the boy do, but his hunting life had not been without lessons. The more courage a hunt or job required, the more likely it was that you were going to die. You or any hunter you had with you. Bobby wasn't sure what was driving Sam. His first intinct was that the years of bottled rage had gotten to be too much, and Sam had finally snapped at the many and varied injustices that ruled his life.
As they crossed the threshold they felt the very foundations they stood upon shake with fury. Not to say it wasn't expected, they hadn't exactly made a covert entrance, but they hadn't expected to be detected quite so soon. They were surrounded before Bobby even had time to blink. Demons slowly closed in from every side and he watched in disbelief as Sam took it all in with a smirk and dropped into an easy fighting stance. So reminiscent of Dean, Bobby felt a hard surge of pride as the older brother's hard training and influence gave Sam the confidence to do something Bobby thought no hunter capable of. To face hell and smirk. Damn crazy ass Winchesters. There was no fear. No rage. Simply instinct and determination.
In that split second he came to a conclusion. Sam was not being driven by courage or bravery. Not by anger or desperation, but by love. It's amazing how many people scoff at the power of real love. Love can transform you into a blubbering idiot, an obbsessive perfectionist, an embracer of peace, a promoter of tranquility, and a quiet appreciator of natural beauty. Love can make you unafraid of almost anything, even one's own mortality, because love gives us faith and hope and peace. Unless of course you are a Winchester, in which case love can transform you into a dangerous, cold, ferocious, fast, efficient, killing machine. Threaten something a Winchester loves and be ready for a beat down. Harm in any way something a Winchester loves? Prepare to meet the most painful death you could possibly imagine.
The first demon to come at them was met with a face full of shot gun and dropped to the ground in a chunky pile of what Bobby could only assume was blood, and demon fleshy bits. He watched in awe as Sam dispatched demon after demon with little to no effort. A small fear gripped him that they may bring back Dean only to lose Sam in the process. Two more demons rushed them and Sam moved without thinking. He held his shotgun steady and fired. The first tumbled to the ground and skidded to a stop at Sam's feet. He realised the other running demon was preparing to take him down with sheer bodily force. He let the shotgun clatter to the ground and took one step to the side. The demon ran right past him, a hair's breadth of space seperating them. Sam grabbed its shoulder, using its own momentum against it, and spun him in place, driving Ruby's knife into its eye in the process. Blood squirted from the mutilated orifice,
splashing across his face like war paint. He made no attempt to wipe it off as he pulled the knife out and kicked the body once more for good measure as it hit the ground.
Bobby stood, his jaw slightly agape and his rifle held lossely in his hands. He gazed at Sam and wondered what had happened to the adorable, loving, happy boy that John had used to bring to visit him so often. What stood before him now was nothing but a shattered remnant of that person. Sam moved through the pile of bodies, every bit the predator he looked. His face, chest, arms, and hands spattered in blood, and not a single drop of it belonged to him. His eyes shifted back and forth, searching the shadows, knowing that just out of eyesight hundreds of more enemies stalked them. Hunted them. His stance screamed his readiness to fight them all, in fact he welcomed the fight. His breathing was hard and heavy, and his hair hung in front of eyes that held the steely resolve of a warrior. The others had slowly receeded into the darkness, somewhat startled by the ferocity of the man who stood before them. Not looking to fight a battle they had no chance of winning, they slunk away, no doubt to spread a warning to others. A hunter had broken in to Hell, and he was not happy.
"Sam, we should keep moving. We can't let them bog us down in one spot. We'll never survive. Let's go."
Sam's gaze held a momentary glint of defiance. These things were down here for a reason and they deserved no mercy, but he needed to get to Dean as fast as possible. With an almost imperceptable nod of his head, he bent to retrieve his shotgun from the ground, and reloaded it before they moved on. He slid Ruby's knife into his pocket and slowly took in his surroundings. The ground was stone for as far as the eye could see, before fading into shadow. The sky was black and purple, and filled with clouds that contained the organic agony of the souls that it had seen tortured. Pain wasn't just a concept in that place. It was alive. Living in the sky and clouds, watching, and knowing when and where to hit. Sam could feel the tendrils of despair wrapping around him and threatening to pull him down. Flashes of Dean impaled on meat hooks and stretched out to the mercy of those villianous clouds flooded his mind. He took a swig of holy water from his canteen and watched in fascination as smoke rose from his skin. He could almost feel the tendrils slithering away. He handed the canteen to Bobby knowing that they needed to keep their heads clear of any influence if they were going to make it out of this thing alive. Bobby took a quick swig and handed it back. Sam hooked the canteen to his belt loop and started walking.
"Do you even know where you're going?"
"Sam, you are aware that Hell is a pretty big place right?"
Bobby trudged behind Sam quietly pondering.
"You know that we are in an alternate plane of existance right now, right? This place could quite possibly span for an eternity... ... ... So how are we gonna find Dean?"
Sam stopped short and Bobby ploughed into him.
"I am going to find him Bobby."
"I'm not saying you aren't Sam, but what I am asking you is how?"
Sam sighed with frustration. Bobby and his damn logic, always mucking up the works. Sam had hoped that there would be some innate connection that would spark the second he set foot here. That maybe his abilities would be some kind of help in finding Dean. So far no such luck. His plan B had been to just wander around and kill things until something gave him the information he needed. A very Dean-esque move. It was a bad plan and he knew it. So bad that he had no intention of telling Bobby. 'Remember what I taught you.' Dean's words echoed in his ears.
"Remember what I taught you." Sam whispered.
"Remember what I taught you. Dean said it to me back at the house before..."
"Sam what are you thinking?"
"Dean always taught me that every little thing around me can be of some use in some way. Remember what I taught you."
Bobby watched as Sam paced. He really had no idea what the kid was talking about, but hoped that this would lead somewhere soon. It was making his shoulder blades itch standing in one place for so long. He felt like a sitting duck.
Sam chanted the words over and over again. 'Remember what I taught you. Remember what I taught you. Remember what I taught you.'
"Mom's old crucifix!" Sam whispered excitedly to himself. "Bobby, I have an idea."
PLEASE REVIEW!! PEOPLE ASKED ME TO WRITE MORE AND I DID SO PLEASE REVIEW!! I DONT REALLY SEE A NEED TO FINISH A STORY IF NO ONE REVIEWS TO TELL ME IF IT IS GOOD OR BAD!!