ALL DOGS GO TO HELL
Chapter One: Green Skies and Red Rain
Now:
Dean Winchester stared up at the sky and tried to figure out why it was green instead of blue. The sky was supposed to be blue, wasn’t it? Maybe the fact that the sky was the wrong color was the reason he was so cold. But people always used the color blue to represent cold so wouldn’t the sky not being blue make it warm? That made sense, right? Sure. But a green sky, that didn’t make any sense at all. Wait, now it wasn’t just green, it was becoming red. It was strange though. The red seeping into the green sky was accompanied by a strange wet feeling on his forehead and into his eye. Maybe it was raining. A green sky raining red rain. And it was still making him so cold. Maybe if he wiped the red rain off of himself, he could get warm again. He reached up with his right hand and swiped rather clumsily at his face. The wetness didn’t go away, it merely smeared all over and the rubbing motion caused him pain.
The sharp pain jerked Dean out of the hazy murkiness that his brain had been drowning in. With a gasp, he blinked several times and tried to make sense of his surroundings. Now he became certain that the sky was still blue, but it was being mostly obscured by the dense trees all around him. And it wasn’t raining. The right side of his face was covered in blood. Okay, well that explained the pain. But his head and face weren’t the only places that were hurting. His back and chest felt like they were on fire, his left leg was in agony, and his whole body was cold, a sure sign of shock and/or blood loss. Not his worst day, but certainly not his best.
The real question though was what had happened for him to be in this less than perfect condition. Dean closed his eyes, trying to remember. Running. He’d been running. Running from something. The pounding in his head derailed his thoughts. Damn, but he hurt.
Dean put his hand up to his head to try and figure out how bad the bleeding was. There was a lump and a gash at his hairline that was pouring out blood and a shallower cut down the side of his face where the blood was sluggishly oozing out. The head wound was pretty bad, but he wouldn’t bleed out. On to the other injuries. Dean gently pressed his fingers over his ribs, checking for breaks. At least one broken and several more fractured or bruised. His breathing wasn’t hindered so he assumed that his lungs weren’t punctured. He had no way to check the reasons that his back hurt, but he prayed it was just bruising and nothing major. He knew back injuries could be serious and that he probably shouldn’t move, but a voice in the back of his head was yelling at him that he couldn’t lay on the ground for too long waiting for help. So he slowly and carefully sat up. As he did so, his left leg screamed at him in protest. Dean closed his eyes against the pain, struggling against the overwhelming urge to lie back down and perhaps pass out. After a moment, when he had himself back under control, the hunter opened his eyes and looked to see what the damage on his leg was like. Damn. His knee was obviously swollen, he could tell even with the joint hidden by his jeans, and the lower part of his leg was positioned at a very odd angle. But the good news was that there weren’t any bones popping through his flesh. So, probably dislocated and fractured but not broken. The bad news was that the lower portion of his leg was bleeding heavily from four long, deep, ragged gashes that ran from knee to ankle.
“Son of a *****!” Dean spat out through clenched teeth.
Just how the hell was he supposed to get up and get back to the others. Others? Who had he been with? Sam. Sam was definitely with him before, so why wasn’t he here now? Oh, right he was back at the camp. Camp? Why were they camping?
It didn’t matter right now. He had to stop the bleeding. Dean struggled out of his leather jacket, and pulled off his dark blue flannel shirt. He then took out his pocket knife and cut the denim pant leg off just above the swollen knee. He’d have to get the damned thing set after he took care of his open bloody wounds. After cutting the denim into long strips, Dean folded his shirt and pressed it against the cuts, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. He then took the strips of cloth and used them to tie the shirt tightly over his wounds.
When he was done, the injured young man wanted nothing more than to lay back and rest, but that wasn’t an option. Using what little strength he had left, Dean gripped his leg and jerked the bones back into place. This time he couldn’t stop himself from crying out. And he didn’t even try to remain upright. Falling onto his back (which jarred his other injuries and hurt like hell), Dean felt the darkness trying to take over, but he didn’t let it. He was hurt for some reason and if that reason was nearby and he lost consciousness, there was a good chance he’d never wake up.
What he needed was a plan. Okay, step one: Don’t die. Step two: try to remember why he was injured and what he was up against. Step three: figure out how the freakin’ hell he was gonna get up and walk outta here.
His gaze fell upon his shot gun, lying just out of reach. If he could scoot over and grab it, he could use it as a means of defense and as a crutch. So, steps one and three were looking attainable. But what about step two? What had happened to him?
Suddenly, Dean heard a something growling off to his right. He turned but didn’t see anything. The sound got closer, much too close to be hidden by the trees or bushes surrounding him. But still he couldn’t see the creature. That’s when he remembered.
What little blood he had left drained from his face and he began to shake. Dean prided himself on his fearlessness during hunts, but right now he had to admit that he was terrified. But really, who in his position wouldn’t be. He was alone and severely injured in the middle of an 800,000 acre forest. His brother probably wouldn’t be rushing to his rescue any time soon, and there was no way he’d be able to move very quickly. His best weapon was lying just out of reach, leaving him with just a small knife on the ground near his hand and the pistol that was tucked into the back of his pants and pinned between his body and the forest floor. Oh, and he was being stalked by at least one, and possibly more, of the creatures that he hated the most. The beasts that paralyzed him with fear. The things that had once torn him to pieces and sent his soul to unending torture in Hell. Vicious monsters that couldn’t be seen but were extremely dangerous. Dean was being hunted by hellhounds.
Chapter Two: Arrival
Then:
Dean slowed the Impala down as he approached the park entrance. He made a face as he elbowed his younger brother and pointed at a sign that read ‘White Mountain National Forest: Land of Many Uses’.
“Dude, what do you think those uses are? Hope it’s something fun.” He wagged his eyebrows up and down suggestively.
As predicted, Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “Really, Dean? We’re here to investigate whatever’s been mutilating hikers and that’s what you’re thinking about?”
Dean just smirked in response. Truthfully, all that was on his mind was the corpses that they had just seen at the coroner’s office. He’d had a hard time staring at the torn-up, partially eaten bodies. They hadn’t been the worst he’d ever seen, far from it, but looking at the claw and bite marks had quite vividly reminded him of when he himself had been reduced to such a state. As he had stared down at the lifeless forms, he had relived the feel of claws and teeth ravaging his body. Even after all the time spent in Hell, his gruesome death was so fresh in his mind that it felt like it had just happened yesterday. He’d somehow managed to keep his cool and act like the professional FBI agent he was pretending to be. Even after leaving the office and getting back into the safety of the Impala, he’d kept his emotions in check. He wasn’t about to fall apart in front of his little brother, especially not since he could tell that seeing the corpses had reminded Sam of the same exact thing that was haunting Dean. So here he was now, joking and pretending that everything was a-okay while all he wanted to do was call Bobby, tell him to get some other hunter on this case, and drive the hell away from here.
“Dean, you know the FBI story’s never gonna fly here. I’m sure agents have already been out and we’ll seem rather suspect.”
“Dude, I know. Already thought ‘bout it.”
“So, who are we now?”
“Dean and Sam.” At his brother’s confused expression, Dean elaborated. “It’s a public park. There’s hiking, golf, swimming, boating, biking, horseback riding, and tax-free shopping. Land of many uses, dude. We’re just here to try some of them out.”
“And you think they’ll really just tell a couple of tourists what’s been going on?”
“Ever since the so-called wolf attacks started, their popularity’s been dropping into the toilet. I’m sure they’ll give us some info if it’ll help ease our minds and get us to drop some cash in this place.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just… you did your research. I kinda figured you were just surfing porn last night.”
“Who says I can’t do both?” Dean responded before getting out of the car.
He heard Sam follow as he walked towards the trail map that was displayed outside a cabin that was marked ‘office’. The map was similar to one of the ones he’d seen online, but Dean studied it as though for the first time, tracing his finger over the various colored lines and pretending to be deep in thought.
“Can I help you boys?”
And jackpot. Dean turned to see a dark-haired man dressed in a tan park ranger’s uniform. He was about four inches shorter than Dean, but obviously worked out and was definitely trying to show off if his one-size too small shorts and short-sleeve work-shirt were any indicator. His black sewn-on name tag read ‘Jeff Morgan’.
“Hey, Jeff. Yeah we could use some help.”
“It’s Ranger Morgan.” The man corrected.
“Seriously?” Dean saw the stern look on the man’s face. “Okay… well, Ranger Morgan, I’m just looking for a challenging trail.”
“You boys might want to start off slow. I’d recommend one of the easy trails. This here’s got gently slopes and takes about an hour. This one is a little longer but leads to amazing waterfalls. If you’re feeling adventurous, this one’s about a three hour hike but it’s got a nice little picnic spot and wonderful views.” Jeff pointed to each trail in turn.
“Wow, that sure is an adventure, Ranger.” Dean exclaimed with poorly faked enthusiasm.
Sam elbowed him in the ribs. “My brother and I were hoping to take one of the backpacking trails. My friend suggested the Appalachia trail.”
“I wouldn’t recommend that for first timers.”
“Oh, I go hiking all the time.” Dean cut in. “And I just wanted to show my little bro the great outdoors. He’s a college boy and never gets out of the dorms. Thought a little ‘adventure’ would do him some good.”
“Sounds like a wonderful idea.” A female voice behind them spoke up.
The Winchesters turned to see a tall, red-haired woman wearing a dark green uniform similar to Jeff’s. She was a little taller than the park ranger and also appeared to work out. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and a pair of sunglasses rested on the top of her head.
Dean grinned at her. “I thought so, Ranger…”
“Actually, I’m with the forest service.” She extended a hand to the older brother. “Candace Trent. But everyone calls me Candy.”
“Sweet.” Dean remarked, raising a brow.
“Because that’s the first time I’ve ever heard that.” She commented, although her bright smile held no disapproval to his rather lame joke. She then shook Sam’s hand as well. “I’m glad to see you expressing interest in backpacking. It’s a great way to get some exercise while learning to appreciate all the outdoors has to offer. However, I will suggest that due to recent events, you only camp in the designated campgrounds and tenting areas along the way. There are forest service officers stationed at all of them to help keep hikers safe.”
“Yeah, I heard about the deaths in the area. Wolf attacks, right?”
The woman scoffed. “That’s the official story. Every time someone gets killed it’s blamed on wolves. Did you know that wolf attacks on humans are extremely rare and mostly only happen when the animals are provoked?”
“Actually, many cases are due to people taking over their land and wiping out their food supply resulting in them being in near-starving condition.” Dean added.
Candy nodded. “I’m impressed. Now if you look at the victims, they weren’t all people that would pose a threat to a wild animal. And if it were an attack due to starvation, which isn’t likely with the wildlife in these woods, then there wouldn’t have been as much of the remains left behind.”
“So what do you think it really is?” Sam inquired.
“Dogs.”
“Dogs?”
“Yes. This is a beautiful 800,000 acre forest which means that many people use it as their own personal dump site. We find everything from food wrappers to futons left here. And often times when pet owners end up with a litter of babies they don’t want they desert them here. Puppies are often killed by other predators, but if they manage to survive into adulthood they can be more vicious than any normal wild animal. Feral dogs have killed many people, yet whenever it happens wolves and other animals take the blame and are hunted down needlessly.”
“Officer Trent,” Jeff interrupted. “These boys certainly don’t want to hear your theories involving these deaths.” He turned to Sam and Dean. “Just stay on well marked trails and in sanctioned camp areas and you’ll be fine.”
Candy rolled her eyes. “Jeff, don’t you have an outhouse to go scrub or something?” Dean tried not to laugh… well, maybe he didn’t try that hard.
Park Ranger Jeff Morgan walked away, mumbling under his breath. Candy shook her head and turned her attention back to the Winchesters. “Look, he may be a conceited, self-important pretend-wilderness expert, but he is right about one thing. Don’t stray off the paths. All the victims had gone off their own way and it didn’t end well for them.”
“No straying. Got it.”
“We’ll stick to the paths.” Sam agreed.
“And make sure you have all the essentials: map, compass, warm clothing, extra food and water, flashlights, fire-starters, first aid kit, whistle, rain and wind gear, pocket knife, tent, and sleeping bags.”
“Yep, be prepared. That’s the boy scout motto.”
“Something tells me you were never a boy scout.”
“Very observant.”
“I never did get your names.”
“Dean. And this is my brother Sammy.”
“Sam.” The younger man corrected him.
“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you both. When you get back, stop on by. I’d love to know what you think of the trails.”
“You got it.” Dean gave her his most charming smile.
“Take care.” And with a wave she turned to walk away, Dean watching her go rather appreciatively.
“Are you going to flirt with every pretty girl we meet here?” Sam asked.
“Hey, it’s one of the many uses of this place.” Dean made his way back over to the Impala. He opened the trunk and pulled out their brand new just-bought-on-the-drive-here fully stocked hiking packs. He handed Sam his and then strapped on his own. Tied to the side of his was a wrapped up shotgun, its shape well concealed.
“So what do you think it is?”
Dean shrugged. “You know, at first I was thinking wendigo, but they wouldn’t leave so many scraps. Often the bodies aren’t even found.”
“It’s not were-wolf.”
“Nope.”
“Black dog?”
“Maybe.”
“Skinwalker?”
“Yeah, that’s a good possibility.”
“What about your girlfriend’s theory of just a feral dog?”
“Dude, when is it ever ‘just a feral dog’?”
“Good point.” They walked in silence for a moment before Sam spoke up. “When did you learn so much about wolves?”
Dean shrugged. “You research werewolves, you learn about the non-supernatural variety.”
As the walked down the wooded path Sam pulled out their map and studied it. “Okay, the forest service lady was right. None of the attacks took place in the designated hiking or camping areas. Actually, all the victims were more than a few hours off the beaten paths.”
“So, what? We wonder around ‘til it tries to eat us and then we gank it?”
“That’s one idea. Or we can look at the map and try to triangulate where their most probable home territory is and surprise them there.”
“Sammy gets the gold star.” Dean announced.
Sam chuckled. After a little while, he turned to Dean and asked “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. You’re just… a little off, I guess.”
“Off?”
“Never mind.”
Dean was grateful that his brother dropped the subject. He wasn’t about to admit that hunting some deadly dog-like creature in the woods was making him nervous and a little sick to his stomach. Sam didn’t need to know any of that. Dean would just continue to play it cool until they ganked this creature and then he’d get himself to the closest bar and drink all the memories of fear away. Put that way, it sounded simple enough. What could go wrong?
Chapter Three: A Long Day’s Hike
“Are we there yet?” The Winchesters had been hiking for seven hours and their surroundings never seemed to change save for the occasional hiker or crappy tourist landmark.
“Dean, I swear to God, if you ask me that one more time…”
“…You’re gonna turn this car around and take us back home?”
“No, I’m going to do this to you next time we’re on the road.”
“Dude, that’s why they have really loud settings on the radio.”
He heard Sam sigh. Well, at least Dean had found an activity to pass the time. And to take his mind off of the disturbing thoughts that had plagued him since they’d taken this job. With that, his mind began to wander back into unpleasant territory. Being pulled from the table as claws ripped his body apart. The agony, the feel of razors cutting his skin and hot blood spilling from his body. Hearing Sam scream his name.
“Dean!”
“Huh? What?” He turned to see his brother looking at him with a rather concerned expression. “Dude, I’m standing right here. No need to yell.”
“Then why didn’t you respond the first five times I called your name?”
Dean shrugged, trying to hide his surprise at Sam’s statement. He hadn’t heard any of the younger hunter’s calls but the last. But it wasn’t like he could just tell Sam that. “Didn’t figure you had anything important to say.”
“Nice.” He shot Dean a suspicious look but didn’t pursue that line of questioning, instead turning back to the reason he’d tried to get the other man’s attention in the first place. “Anyway, if we leave this path here and go a few miles east, we’ll reach the spot where Amy Porters’ body was found. We should check it out.”
“You’re thinking we go there and see if there’s anything left behind that could help us narrow down the suspects.”
“Yeah. Although I’m still thinking probably a skinwalker or black dog.”
“Or Bigfoot.” Dean suggested with a smirk. “Dude might be ganking people that refuse to give him a haircut.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.”
“Actually, I was thinking…” Dean started.
“That’s a first.”
“Shut up. I was thinking that it probably wasn’t a skinwalker.”
“What? Earlier you thought that it was a good possibility.”
“Yeah, but those guys are human part-time. If it was the work of a skinwalker, the guy would have to have some sorta reason to kill these guys, right? And there’s no motive that I could find. I mean, I guess it’s possible that he just likes the thrill of it and all, but it seems a little weird that he’d come out to the middle of no where to get his kicks massacring people he’s never met.”
“Hey, we’ve seen things like that before.”
“I know, it just… it doesn’t seem to fit.”
“So, you’re thinking black dog?”
“I guess.” His voice sounded unsure, even to himself.
“Well, what else could it be, Dean?”
Dean was silent, lost in memories he wished he could erase. Sam somehow developed mind reading abilities.
“No way, Dean. It doesn’t add up. There’s just no way that all these people made deals. Crossroad demons don’t go through whole families like that and hellhounds don’t off people who aren’t on their list.”
“I know that, Sam. I wasn’t even thinking of that.”
“Sure you weren’t.”
“So, black dogs. What do we know about them?” Dean quickly changed the subject.
“Well, some people consider them merely a death omen while other cultures believe them to be deadly themselves. What we do know for sure is that they definitely can and do kill people, mostly in wooded areas or long deserted stretches of road. Most legends that believe them to be corporeal and not merely ghosts say that silver will kill them.”
“Well, that we’re prepared for.” Dean pulled out his gun and held it up. “Fully loaded and ready to go.”
Sam nodded. “And since silver cam kill skinwalkers as well, I guess we’re set.”
“Don’t black dogs guard certain areas like graveyards or old burial sites?”
“Yeah. I guess it’s possible that there’s some kind of old burial site out here.” Sam conceded.
“So, I say we skip the sight-seeing tour of places best to find mutilated corpses and skip straight to figuring out where this son of a ***** is coming from. We find its hangout spot and feed it some silver.”
“You really want to rush into this without all the facts? We don’t even know if there’s one of them or a whole pack. We should try to find more information before we go in guns blazing.”
“Dude, the body was found weeks ago. Not too likely there’ll be anything left behind that’ll help us anyway. Best we take it out quickly before it snacks on some other unsuspecting nature lover.”
“Okay.” Sam still sounded a little unsure.
“Good. So, I figure we got another little bit to go before we step off the trail and head north-east. That seems to be near the center of all the attacks and according to the tourist map there’s some caves in that area.”
“Sounds like a likely spot.” Sam agreed.
“And that’s why I’m in charge.” Dean stated as he picked up his pace. He really wanted to get there before it got dark.
…
…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…
…
It was getting difficult to see where they were going and reading the map and compass with a flashlight was a pain in the ass. They still had a few more miles to go and the terrain was getting rougher and rougher. Oh, and it had started to drizzle cold rain an hour before. All in all, Dean was completely miserable.
“Dean, we should stop for the night. Even if we find the caves, it’s probably going to be out hunting by now and we can’t just wander around in the dark hoping to run into it. If we rest now, we can get the drop on it in the morning.”
The older hunter really didn’t want to stop, but his brother was right.
“Fine. Let’s find a clearing and set up camp.”
“We just passed a good spot about ten minutes ago.”
“Not going backwards, Sammy.”
Sam sighed but didn’t argue. Things between them were more than a little tense. Even if it weren’t for all the crap they’d been through since Dean got back and all the lies and secrets, now Sam kept shooting Dean concerned looks while Dean was trying to ignore them and keep up the whole ‘nothing’s bothering me’ act. Man, did this trip suck so far.
And to top it all off, Dean was hungry as all hell. The stupid protein bars they’d packed were like eating cardboard and didn’t leave him feeling very satisfied. He’d kill for some real food. Something like…
“Dude, do you smell hamburgers?”
“Dean, I don’t think… yeah, actually, I do.”
Dean took a deep breath in through his nose, then pointed right. “This way.”
After walking a few minutes, they came to a clearing occupied by two tents and a dark green canopy. Four young adults that appeared to be in their early twenties were huddled around a grill set up under the canopy. A girl looked up as the brothers approached.
“Hey!” She waved and grinned at them. “You boys shouldn’t be hiking after dark. You could get lost. Or in this weather, catch a cold.”
Dean looked her over. She was wearing a pair of camouflage cargo pants and an olive green tank top. She was of average height and weight and her shoulder length chestnut hair was held back with a bandana. He smiled at her. “You are so right. I was just telling my brother here that we should stop and set up camp.”
“Well, so long as you’re not serial killers you’re free to set up here. There’s plenty of room and we cooked way too many burgers. But we had to use the meat before it went bad.” She shrugged.
“Thanks, sounds great. But do you always invite complete strangers to stay with you?”
“Actually, she does.” A guy stood up to put his arm around her waist. The move was possessive and an obvious statement that they were a couple. His jeans were ripped but in such a way that it was a fashion choice and he wore a store bought football jersey. His dark hair was hidden under a blue baseball cap that had some team’s insignia printed on it. “Kathy is too friendly for her own good. We had another family camp out with us last night.”
“They were turned around and I couldn’t let them get lost out here. They had kids.” She protested.
The guy shook his head. “You’re impossible sometimes.”
“There are kids out here?” Dean asked.
“Yeah.” Kathy answered. “I gave the parents a copy of our map and they went on their way this morning. They left before we did, so I figure they probably got further than us. They want to make it to a camp area that’s another day’s hike from here. We’re taking it slow. Enjoying the trip and all.”
“Where are you guys headed?” Another girl asked. She was younger than Kathy, perhaps still in her late teens. Her hair was the same color, but much longer and hung in braided pig tails. She wore short denim cut-offs and a pink tank top.
“Probably off to kill some young unsuspecting hikers.” The guy mumbled.
“Behave yourself, Chris.” Kathy scolded.
“We’re just out here for a backpacking trip.” Sam answered. “No real destination.”
“That’s cool.” Kathy smiled at them again. “Come on over and sit down. You can get set up after dinner.” As the Winchesters approached, she began the introductions. “I’m Kathy, this is my boyfriend Chris, my sister Dana, and my brother Josh,” She gestured to the young guy that had kept quiet so far. He appeared to be a year or two older than the others and had spikey blonde hair that was so light it almost appeared to be white. He wore a pair of old battered jeans and a black t-shirt that had a picture of a cartoon zombie on it and proclaimed ‘I’d eat your brains if you had any’.
“Nice to meet you all. I’m Dean and this is my brother Sam.”
The brothers sat down and Dean accepted the plate of food that Josh handed him. He was thinking about what Kathy had said earlier about a family being out here. He wished that they’d stayed with this group. Dean wanted to be able to protect them if the black dog was out hunting tonight, but without knowing where they were, there was nothing he could do. As he was thinking, he took a bite of the burger.
“Damn this is good.”
“Thanks.” Josh spoke up. “I do all the cooking when we’re out here ‘cause these guys would starve without the invention of the microwave.”
“I’m not that bad!” Kathy protested.
“You burn everything you make.” Dana laughed. “Every time you cook we end up eating takeout food.”
“I’d like to see you do better, Miss I-serve-food-that-is-so-rare-it-could-get-up-and-walk-away.”
Dean watched them going back and forth with the banter. It was almost relaxing. But the knowledge of what was out here camping in the woods with them was enough to keep him on edge.
After dinner, they cleaned up and Dean started to take their rolled up tent out of Sam’s pack. He really didn’t want to have to set it up since the rain had gone from a drizzle to a full on down pour, but he had no assurance that conditions would improve before bed time so he might as well get it over with. Besides, with the weather the way it was, there was a good chance that the others would head off to bed soon. Once everyone was settled in, he’d talk with Sam about a schedule for keeping watch overnight. Dean figured that he’d take first watch. He probably wouldn’t be getting much sleep anyways.
Dean stepped out into the rain and had just begun to open up their tiny two-man tent when he heard something that made him drop the equipment to the ground and go for his gun. Someone in the not too far distance was screaming.
Chapter Four: What You Cannot See
“Can anyone use a gun?” Dean asked the campers. He wanted to run off and help whoever had screamed but there was no way he’d leave these guys alone and unprotected. When all of them shook their heads, eyes wide at the sight of the hunter’s weapon, Dean sighed. “Sam, stay here with them.”
“But Dean, what if you need help?”
“I’ll be fine. But if it finishes over there and comes here or if there’s more than one of them, these guys are gonna need you.” With that, the older brother turned and took off towards the direction that he’d heard the screams come from.
As he ran, the screaming started again, but this time it was multiple voices. And some were definitely those of children. Dean picked up his pace. Branches were pushed roughly out of his way, some snapping back to hit him in the face, as he covered the uneven distance in record time, flashlight in one hand gun in the other. When his foot hit a tree root he went down to one knee briefly, then sprung back to his feet and continued heedless of the throbbing pain the fall had caused.
Dean burst out into a clearing to see a woman shoving a small blonde girl into a tent while an even younger boy with the same hair color stood staring at a man fighting off something Dean could not see with a baseball bat. Not too far from where the fight was taking place, two mutilated bodies lay bleeding out on the forest floor. One look told the experienced hunter that they were dead. Without a moment’s hesitation, he rushed forward, grabbing the small boy and practically throwing him into the tent with his sister. The canvas shelter wouldn’t provide any protection from a black dog, but it would keep the children out of the way and make them easier to protect.
“Get in there with them!” He yelled to the woman. “Can you use a gun?”
“Yes, but I don’t have one. What’s going on? What’s attacking my husband?”
Dean pulled out his spare pistol and handed it to the woman. “It’s a feral dog. Shoot to kill.”
With that, he stood and rushed to get to the man’s side. His left arm was hanging at his side now, bloody gashes running from elbow to hand. He was still swinging the bat, but Dean didn’t see the black dog.
“Where is it?” He questioned, gun out in front of him, trying to find a target.
“I don’t know, man. I know it sounds nuts but I think it’s invisible or something.”
Dean cast a sidelong look at the man. With his khaki pants, blue polo shirt, and wire-rimmed glasses he looked like he wasn’t prepared to be out camping, much less battling supernatural creatures. His face was streaked with blood, likely from him using his injured hand to try and keep his slightly too long light brown hair out of his eyes. Dean was impressed that the man had managed to protect himself and his family for this long.
“It’s not invisible.” Dean corrected him. “But these ******* are dark and quick, good at blending in and launching sneak attacks.”
“Look, I know you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I couldn’t even see it when it was right in front of me. Not when I hit it or when it clawed my arm. It’s invisible.”
It must just be from shock. Dean thought. Because the only invisible dog-like creature I know of is… no. It can’t be that. Out loud he said “Do you know where it is right now?”
“No, it backed off. I think it’s toying with me.”
“Okay. Let’s go get your family and get out of here. My brother and I are camped not too far from here and the more protection we have the better. I’ll take the lead and…”
Dean never got to finish because suddenly the man was flying backwards, taken down by something the hunter could not see. There was a growl that came from thin air and was echoed by the man’s scream of terror. Dean could see impressions on the guy’s body that were being made by something heavy standing right on him. But still, there was no black dog visible. And now Dean knew that it was not a black dog he had come here to hunt. It was a hellhound.
Dean Winchester froze. It was partly from shock, partly from fear. And then he was back in that damned room with a huge hideous creature pinning him to the floor, ripping his skin open and tearing at his insides. His inner organs were shredded and he was choking on his own blood, pain consuming all his senses and destroying his sanity. He let out a strangled cry. It was a lot louder than he’d thought it would be. When the scream repeated itself, Dean realized that the sound hadn’t come from him.
The hunter snapped out of his horrific flashback to see the man on the ground holding the baseball bat over his face with both hands as tooth marks appeared in the wood and it began to break. That gave Dean a target. He aimed right above the bat and fired. Dark blackish blood splattered all over the man’s shirt and face. Dean was reluctant to shoot again, not knowing if the hellhound had moved or not. Then a weight hit him knocking him back. The creature’s hot breath wafted over his face, the smell nauseating. As the beast made a lunge at Dean, the hunter raised the gun and fired right into where he figured its mouth should be. The weight disappeared from his body as hot liquid rained down on him. Without hesitation, Dean leapt to his feet. He grabbed the other man by the hand and pulled him up.
“Come on! We have to go! Now!”
“Where is it? Did you kill it?”
“Not with silver bullets I didn’t.”
“You had silver bullets?”
“I thought it would be a black dog, so yeah, I used silver bullets. But they don’t work on these guys. We need to get back to camp. I have iron rounds and salt in my pack, but I left it behind.”
“Uh, okay.” The man was obviously confused but to his credit he stopped asking questions and merely followed the guy that had just saved his life.
Dean ran to the tent. “C’mon, we gotta move. I injured it, but it’ll be back at us soon.”
The blonde woman poked her head out of the tent and nodded. “Should we bring any supplies with us?”
“Nothing that will slow you down.”
“Okay.” A moment later she stepped out. She pulled a denim jacket over her red v-neck shirt and put on a small pack all without releasing the pistol Dean had given her. “Kids, let’s go. We need to move fast before the bad doggy comes back.”
The little girl Dean had seen before followed her mom out of the tent. Her pink jeans and white Little Mermaid t-shirt were damp from being out in the rain earlier. She looked to be around eight or nine years old and even though she seemed terrified, she still gave Dean a shy smile. Next came the small, probably six-year old boy. He had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark green cargo pants and was visibly shaking. His gray Lilo and Stitch shirt was completely soaked but Dean figured that the boy’s tremors were more from fear than the cold. He took one look at the gun in Dean’s hand and apparently decided that he was the best protector available because he attached himself to the hunter’s leg. Before Dean could comment, the little blonde girl exited the tent again, this time wearing purple jeans and a black Beauty and the Beast t-shirt. It took Dean a moment to realize that she was actually a different, although identical, child.
“I’ll take the lead, you bring up the rear.” He told the woman before turning to her injured husband. “You and the kids stay between us. Let’s go.” Dean went to move but the boy wouldn’t let go. Looking down at him, the young man forced a smile. “Hey, buddy, you gotta let go now. I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, but I can’t walk with you holding on.”
“Can you carry me?” He asked quietly.
“I have to have my hands free to fight back the bad dogs.” Dean started to explain, but when he heard an angry growl come from across the clearing he scooped up the child and yelled. “Run!”
After making sure the others were following, Dean took off back towards their camp. He shielded the child as best he could from the branches and thorny vines, while keeping his gun at the ready just in case the hellhound caught up with them. The hellhound… No. He was not gonna think about that. Not now. This family needed him and he’d already froze up once. Not gonna happen again.
Dean glanced behind him and saw that the father was holding one daughter while the mother carried the other. Good, they’d make better time that way. And they’d need all the speed they could get. Until he could get the right kind of ammo their best option was to put as much distance between themselves and the beasts as possible.
It seemed to take forever, but Dean finally saw the tents and canopy come into view. As soon as he was close enough, the hunter yelled to his brother.
“Sam! Get the iron bullets and salt shells out! Silver’s no good. And get the salt ready!”
Luckily, Sam didn’t hesitate to follow orders or question his brother. As Dean reached the younger Winchester, he had a gun thrust into his hand. Sam had quickly torn through their pack for the requested items and after prepping one for Dean, he was now readying a weapon for himself.
Dean tried to put the little boy down, but he couldn’t pry the small arms from around his neck without hurting the kid. So instead he continued to hold the child with his left arm while he turned to point the gun back the way they’d come from. The rest of the family arrived and joined the four campers that were huddled under the canopy. Sam and Dean aimed their weapons at the trees and waited. Nothing happened. After a moment, the taller hunter broke the silence.
“Dean, what’s going on?”
“Hellhounds.”
“What?”
“We gotta get a salt circle up.”
“It’s still raining a little and the ground’s wet.”
“Then we get everyone in the tents and make a perimeter of salt inside.”
“That should work. The guys set up our tent so there should be enough room.”
“Get them safe. I’ll stay here and watch your backs.”
“No way Dean. I’m not going to let those things get you…” The word ‘again’ remained unspoken.
“Not up for debate, Sam. Get them safe.”
“Dean…”
“Now!”
Dean faced the child in his arms. “Hey, kiddo, what’s your name?”
“Ryan.”
“Well Ryan, I need you to help me out, okay?”
“Okay, but I’m scared.”
“I know. And it’s okay. But I need you to go with my brother now. He’ll get you in one of the tents and make sure the dogs can’t get in.”
“Are you coming?”
“I’ve gotta stay out here until I know everyone is safe, okay?”
“Are you a police like my mommy?”
Great. Dean thought. Chick’s a cop. Just what I need. “Not exactly.”
“Oh, wow! You’re a superhero, aren’t you? Like Batman.”
Before Dean could answer, Sam spoke up. “Yeah, he is. And he needs to fight the bad guys right now and doesn’t want you to get hurt.”
“Okay. I’ll go in the tent.” Ryan agreed, still somewhat reluctant.
Once his hands were free, Dean held the gun out in front of himself and took a few steps away from the others. He’d leave Sam the fun task of trying to explain the situation to the campers. Hopefully they’d follow his orders even if they didn’t believe what was going on.
After a few minutes with no further attacks, Dean felt some of the tension leave his body. But it was quickly replaced by fear. Damn it, why did it have to be hellhounds? Of all the hundreds of creatures out there, why did he have to run into these things now? And so soon after… No, not going there. He had to stay alert.
Suddenly he heard a rustling in the bushed to his right. Dean swung his weapon in that direction and aimed. A low growl was getting slowly closer to where the hunter stood. He was about to take a shot when he heard a second growl from the left. Oh, crap! There was more than one of them. And from the sound of it, the hellhounds were trying to surround him.
Chapter Five: Surviving the First Night
Dean’s heart was beating way too rapidly and his breaths were quick and shallow. If he didn’t get control of himself soon he was going to have a full on panic attack and would certainly end up as puppy chow. Of course, that thought did nothing for his frame of mind. And speaking of his frame of mind, what the hell was wrong with him? He was Dean freakin’ Winchester. He’s known about the supernatural since before he’d started kindergarten. He’s been trained to kill all sorts of creatures and had been hunting them since before he was even a teenager. He’s battled wendigos, ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons, and all manner of horrors without batting an eye. And this, this was no different. Just more monsters begging to be put down. No need to worry and certainly no need to panic. Because Dean Winchester did not panic. Except that he was panicking. And he knew exactly why. This wasn’t just another random hunt. These things had ripped him to pieces and sent him straight to Hell; do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. His last encounter had been the most violent and painful experience of his life (outside of Hell, of course) and he was terrified of facing them again. But if he didn’t stand up to them and gank their flea-bitten hides, then everyone here would face the same gruesome death that he’d been subjected to. And that was not gonna happen on his watch.
“Come and get it, you fugly bastards.” Dean meant for it to come out as defiant and brave but his voice betrayed his state of mind and his statement was merely a strangled whisper.
The growl to his right was close now and the hunter saw a dark liquid drop appear and fall to the ground. This must be the one he’d wounded. And it had no clue that its prey could now kill it. Dean aimed his gun at just above where the beast’s blood had appeared and pulled the trigger three times. Blackish blood exploded all over and Dean heard a thud as its body hit the ground. The one to his left let out an almost mournful howl and then, if the sound of it’s paws on the muddy ground and the prints left behind were any indication, it charged at the hunter. Dean unloaded the rest of the ammo in its direction and was satisfied upon hearing a pained yelp. When dark blood poured out all over the ground, he knew it was dead.
“Ha!” Dean exclaimed, slightly giddy from his victory over the hated monsters. “That’ll teach ya to mess with Dean Winchester, you sick sons of *******!”
His celebration was cut shot by the sounds of several more howls coming from the woods. Terror once again replaced the exhilaration he’d been feeling as he reached into his pocket for another clip. But of course he didn’t have more since Sam had been the one to load the weapon. He was well and truly screwed.
Suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder. Dean spun around, ready to go down fighting, only to come face to face with his brother. He immediately felt stupid. Of course it was Sam. After all, it wasn’t as if hellhounds had hands to go around grabbing people with.
“Sam, I’m outta ammo.”
“C’mon Dean! Let’s go.”
This time it was Dean’s turn to follow his brother without question. Sure they’d been having trust issues lately, but Dean knew that Sammy still had his back in a fight. The younger man led him over to the canopy. Around the perimeter, under the canvas to keep it dry, was a thick circle of salt. Safety at last. The brothers stepped over the line and turned back the way they’d come from. Dean was relieved to see that everyone else had made it into the tents. He heard one of the hellhounds growling right at the edge of the salt line, but the barrier worked. After a moment the creature lost interest and walked off. The footprints it left behind led to the tents, but it must’ve sensed the same protection there, because it didn’t stay long. Dean heard one of the little girls crying and the parents quietly trying to comfort their children. The elder brother prayed that they’d stay put as he searched through the bag for more iron rounds. But by the time his gun was once again loaded, there was no sign of the hellhounds.
The brothers sat in silence for a few minutes before Sam spoke up.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“They didn’t get you, did they?”
Dean pushed his brother’s hands off of him as the younger Winchester tried to pull open his jacket to check for injuries.
“Dude, get off me. I’m fine. One of them knocked me to the ground but it didn’t get a chance to do any damage. We gotta check on that guy with the kids, though. It tore up his arm pretty good.”
“Yeah, I know. I gave them the first aid kit and Josh said he could help. Says he learned some basic first aid stuff at summer camps.”
“Good. That’s good.” Dean felt the affects of the adrenaline leaving his body. Now all he wanted to do was put his head down and go to sleep. That wasn’t even an option, of course. Even with the salt circles it would be safest if someone stayed up to keep watch. Besides, Dean highly doubted that his dreams would be particularly pleasant. So instead he dropped down into a sitting position and scrubbed his hands over his face. Bad move since it only succeeded in further concerning his brother.
“Dean, are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should go into the tent and get some rest. Our tent is protected too.”
“I’m fine.” Dean insisted.
“No, you’re not. And no one can blame you if you’re having a hard time with this.”
“Sam, for the love of… will you please just shut up!”
“Dean…”
Dean was saved from having to strangle his younger brother when Josh stepped out of one of the tents holding the first aid kit and some bloody towels. After exiting, he turned and zipped the flaps shut. He then walked over to the two hunters, carefully stepping over the salt lines.
“How is he?” Dean asked.
“Paul? He’ll live. We’ll just have to keep an eye out for infection but since they are claw marks and not bites he should be okay. I’ll clean it out again tomorrow. Then we should hike the hell outta here and get him to a hospital just to be sure.” He paused for a moment. “We will be able to leave tomorrow, right? I mean, these dog things that the guy said attacked him, are they nocturnal?”
“Nope.” Dean replied. “You’ll all be safest if you stay put until we can put them down.”
“What are they? And don’t say wolves because wolves aren’t chased off by salt.”
“Unless they’re watching their blood pressure.” Dean amended.
Josh stared at for a moment and then let out a short laugh. “Seriously though, what’s out there?”
Dean exchanged a look with Sam, who merely shrugged. There really was no sense in lying now. If they didn’t tell everyone the truth, there was a chance that they wouldn’t take the precautions seriously and would end up dead.
“Look, we’ll tell everyone what’s going on in the morning. These things will stay away so long as we stay inside the salted areas.”
“You can’t even give me a sneak preview?”
“Trust me, it won’t help your ability to sleep tonight.”
“But you are safe here.” Sam added.
“Okay.” Josh agreed reluctantly. “But you guys are spilling it first thing in the morning.”
“Promise.” Sam nodded.
The young man walked over to the opposite tent from where he’d come and got inside. Dean was pleased to see him be careful of the salted perimeter. Unfortunately he was once more alone with his concerned, well-meaning, and very annoying brother. And there was no way he was gonna give the younger man a chance to restart the conversation that Dean wished he’d never started in the first place.
“So Sam, you want first watch or should I take it?”
Sam looked like he wanted to say something else entirely, but a look of defeat crossed his features and he instead answered the question. “I’ll take first.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. You’re the one who just fought off… those creatures. You should rest first.”
Dean shrugged, not bothering to argue for fear that it would once again begin the whole ‘Dean are you okay?’ crap. With a sigh he stood up, grabbed his pack, and walked towards the tiny two man tent. The hunter climbed inside, cautiously avoiding the salt, and closed up the canvas shelter. Dean tucked his gun under the thin pillow and then unwrapped his shotgun. He quickly loaded it with salt shells. Not bothering to remove his boots, Dean got himself inside of one of the sleeping bags but he didn’t zip it, just in case he needed to get up in a hurry. He pulled the shotgun close to his chest and held it as a child would a stuffed animal. Dean then closed his eyes and eventually drifted off into an uneasy dream filled slumber where he was repeatedly torn to shreds by hellhounds while he listened to his brother and innocent people screaming in agony as they faced the same fate.
…
…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…Supernatural…
…
The rest of the night had passed quietly enough. The rain had stopped before Dean had begun his watch and now as the sun began to rise, the hunter was just finishing up making a large salt circle around the entire clearing. They were running dangerously low on the condiment and Dean prayed that one of the campers had brought some along with their provisions. He’d spent the last few hours trying to come up with some sort of plan to get everyone out of the forest alive. He didn’t trust to try and hike out with everyone. While it had been uneventful since the previous night, he didn’t believe for a second that the hellhounds had just wandered off. Those bastards were nothing if not persistent. Which brought up the question of what exactly it was that they were after in the first place.
Dean knew full well what the job of the hellhounds was. They came to call when a demon deal was up and collected the payment in a terrible way. But it just wasn’t possible that all of these people had made deals. The idea that a whole bunch of deal makers would all be related or become friends and spouses, then come hiking in these woods ten years later just as it was time to die was ridiculous. Besides, none of the kids were even alive ten years ago and the first group of campers they’d met would’ve been just little kids themselves at the time. It was possible the hounds had shown up for just one person, but while they would kill anyone who got in between them and their prey, they weren’t known to stick around afterwards. He’d ask these people anyways during his explanation, but he doubted that was the case. So the question remained: what the hell was going on?
Dean still had no answers when the others started to get up. First came Sam, and he’d no sooner helped himself to a cup of the coffee that the older Winchester had made when one of the other tents opened up. Kathy stepped out first, followed very closely by her boyfriend. Chris openly scowled at Dean, and the hunter knew immediately that he was going to be a problem. Josh and Dana came out next. All four campers were dressed in the same clothes as the night before and none looked well rested. They all followed Sam’s example and soon they were all drinking warm cups of caffeine. Without a word, Josh started making some bacon and eggs for breakfast. Dean was thrilled that these guys had brought some real food with them. Protein bars for breakfast just didn’t do it for him. Just as the food was finished, the family of five got out of their tent and wandered over. Ryan, obviously not forgetting his hero-worshipping from the night before, quickly took a seat in Dean’s lap. The parents sat down with a girl each in their laps.
“I suppose introductions are in order.” The mother announced as she was handed a plate of food. “I’m Officer Nicki Davids, this is my husband Paul and our kids Stacy, Susan, and Ryan.”
“What kind of officer?” Dana asked. “Are you here because of what’s going on?”
“I’m with the Waterville Valley Police department. And no, we’re just here on vacation. I wouldn’t bring my family along on a dangerous job.”
“Yeah, I guess that was a stupid question.” Dana smiled sheepishly.
Just like the previous night, Kathy made the introductions for their group. “I’m Kathy Wells, this is my older brother Josh, my little sister Dana, and my boyfriend Chris.”
“I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean.”
“Are you with the forest service?” Paul asked.
“No.” Sam replied.
“Then what are you doing out here? And why are you armed?” Nicki inquired.
“And why did you have silver and iron bullets?” Paul added.
“We’re hunters.” Dean explained.
Chris scoffed. “You don’t go hunting with handguns or bizarre ammo like that.”
“Depends on what you’re hunting.” Dean responded.
“What’s going on here? Because that thing that attacked me was invisible and didn’t die when you shot it point blank.” Paul looked as though he was unsure if he really wanted an answer, but knew that he needed one.
“Are you sure you want us to tell you everything right now?” Dean glanced down at the boy seated in his lap.
Nicki caught on, but nodded her head. “They already know that some invisible dog tried to kill their father. At this point there’s not much left to hide from them.”
“Besides,” Paul interjected. “Right now I’m more concerned with keeping them alive than beating around the bush to try and avoid scaring them further.”
The brothers looked at each other and nodded at the almost the same time.
“Okay,” Dean began. “This is gonna sound crazy, but here’s what we’re up against.”
Chapter Six: Debriefing the Civilians
“The creatures are called hellhounds. They are invisible, vicious, and damned hard to kill. Only thing that’ll put them down is iron or shotgun shells filled with salt.”
Chris laughed. “It’s not really the time for jokes, man.”
“Well, good. ‘Cause I’m not joking.”
The other man studied his face for a moment and, upon realizing that Dean was dead serious, he shook his head in amazement. “Then you’re nuts.”
“We’ve fought these creatures before.” Sam backed up his brother.
“You’re both nuts, then.”
“You don’t believe us, ask Paul. He got attacked by them last night.”
“It’s true. They were invisible. I mean, it was tearing up my arm and pinning me to the ground and I couldn’t see anything. Then Dean here shot it from just a few inches away and it didn’t die. It chased us all the way back here. And somehow the salt kept it from coming into the tent and finishing us off. I mean, I agree that the idea of a hellhound, whatever that is, sounds crazy, but I say we hear these guys out and trust them. They saved us all last night.”
Dana spoke up in a small voice. “Is it possible that the trauma of being attacked messed with your head or something?”
“Yeah, none of the rest of us saw anything last night.” Kathy agreed.
“Because they are invisible.” Dean’s voice held more than a little sarcasm.
“See, he’s crazy.” Chris gestured at Dean.
“If that’s all you’re gonna say, please shut up and let the grown-ups talk.” Dean snapped back. Ryan giggled.
“Are the hell dogs coming back to eat us?” Stacy asked, nervously picking at her Little Mermaid t-shirt.
“We’re safe here.” Dean assured her, his tone going from pissed to comforting.
“How does that work?” Nicki asked.
“They’re demotic, and salt repels all sorts of demons. They can’t cross the lines and if we were to get it into their blood by shooting them with it, the salt would kill them.” Sam explained.
“You’re buying this crap?”
“Mommy, he said a bad word.” Susan whispered rather loudly, pointing at Chris.
“I know sweetie, and that was bad of him.” Nicki gave the guy a look that was a clear message to keep his profanities to himself. “But to answer the question, you guys may have been safe here last night, but we were almost killed. First, this couple came running into the clearing where we’d set up camp. The woman was bleeding badly, and then the guy fell to the ground screaming as something invisible tore him to pieces. We called for the woman to come over to us but she just froze. And then… then she was killed too. Paul told me to get the kids safe and he’d watch our backs. It attacked him, then backed off, almost like it was toying with him. And that’s when Dean arrived. He got Ryan in the tent, gave me a gun, and then went to help Paul.”
“When the thing attacked me again, he shot it.” Paul continued the story. “It left me alone to jump him and he shot it again. Then we ran back here, with it at our heels the whole way.”
“That’s just… it’s impossible.” Dana shook her head in denial. “This has to be one of those crappy prank TV shows, right