Work Text:
I. The Beast Below
The eldritch beast uncurled from the water like a fern, causing the surface of the bay to billow in a black wave beneath Sam and Dean's boat. As it rose above them its tentacles unfurled from its core and it roared as it expanded. Sam gripped the sides of the small fishing boat with white knuckles, his hair plastered down his face like broken cracks against his pale skin. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the beast's mottled skin and its eyes, red as blood.
“Hurry up, Sam,” Dean shouted above the sound of the sea and the agonized howls of the beast before them.
Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean in a way that said, proper incantations take time, fuck you very much , and continued to chant over the makeshift magical altar they'd assembled in the bottom of an old metal bucket still rank with the smell of old fish.
Dean spat saltwater from his mouth and continued to fire every single silver bullet they had at the sea monster. A tentacle rose from the water, graceful as a willow branch in the wind. It came down within inches of the boat with a weighty splash that rocked their small boat nearly perpendicular to the water. Dean cursed as he fell back into the boat, his gun jolting from his hand as his wrist dashed against the hard metal side. He tried to shake the stinging numbness from his hand and the ringing from his head and scrambled upright again. That's it. I've had it, he thought.
The weapons bag had slid under a seat and he scrabbled for it, pulling it out and open in one smooth movement. “There you are, you beautiful thing,” he growled as he pulled out the grenade launcher. He grinned almost maniacally at Sam as he prepared to fire.
Sam's eyes widened as they caught Dean's expression and traveled down to the weapon in his hand. He shook his head wildly and his incantations increased in speed, pattering over the water with words rattling the beast like machine gun fire.
Dean made a face at Sam but braced himself in the boat and held off on firing. One more tentacle, though, and the beast was his. Sam uttered one last phrase and slammed his bloody hand into the bucket. The creature howled, red cracks glowing along its skin as it broke apart.
When the sea finally calmed Dean carefully wiped eldritch creature goo from his eyes and mouth. He spat, trying to clear the taste of monster from his lips. “Aw, Sam,” he said, dropping the grenade launcher to his side in defeat, “You're no fun.”
II. The Beast Within
“How are we supposed to take out that many demons?” Dean peered through the fence at the football field in disbelief. The Brickworth High School football field teemed with what must have been nearly the entire Town of Brickworth. Every year this town had a mysterious ritualistic death and this year the Winchesters vowed that no more innocent people would die. But this crowd was unreal.
“Exorcism over the loudspeaker?” Sam whispered. Above them, stone-faced parents bobbling children on their knees closely guarded the announcer's box.
“Kids possessed too?”
“Probably,” said Sam. “Doesn't look like they're trying to get away. This town reeks of demon activity. I wouldn't be surprised if demons were riding everyone here. Dean. I've got a plan.”
A few minutes later Sam sauntered casually out from underneath the bleachers and made his way up towards the announcer stand. People turned in their seats as he walked past and passed their stones from hand to hand. Dean stood ready, under the bleachers. The grenade launcher nestled against his body and he trained it on the field towards a section of the crowd furthest from the young human trussed up on the green like a ritual sacrifice. He breathed quietly, steadily, and waited to hear signs of Sam's distress. At that point he'd let loose the grenade, cause a catastrophic distraction, and they'd save the victim and hightail it out of town before the chaos died down.
Five minutes later Sam slunk back to Dean's side. “Dude,” he said. “Not demons. Humans. I think they’re all humans.”
They listened in growing horror as the loudspeaker crackled. “Welcome to the lottery. This year's winner is Toby Anderson. Brickworth! Prepare your stones.”
III. The Beast Among Us
Dean's eyes burned red as he shoved Sam down into the grimy dust of the barn. Behind him a giant brain pulsed like a heart. “The darkness never left,” he growled as he calmly pulled his gun from his belt.
Sam blinked woozily up at him and slurred, “Dean, this isn’t you.” He lifted shaky hands in supplication. “Please.”
Dean cocked the gun and pointed it at Sam in one graceful motion. “The darkness wraps around the world. There is no escape except through conformity. Or death.”
“Bullshit,” Castiel said from the doorway.
Sam and Dean turned their heads to see Castiel silhouetted against the open doorway of the barn, his coat swirling wide against the bright daylight outside. He strode into the barn purposefully. “Castiel,” Dean said. “Welcome to the party. I’ll be with you in a moment.” The Winchesters’ attention once again pivoted back on the barrel of the gun in Dean’s hand.
“You think you’re so smart,” Castiel said, directing his comments towards the giant brain squatting on the barn floor. “But there’s one thing you can’t understand. One thing you won’t anticipate.”
Dean pulled an exaggerated grimace. “Aww,” he said. “I’ve heard this before. Is it love, Castiel? How trite.”
“No,” Castiel said. “It’s this.” He lifted a grenade launcher from where it was pressed against his leg and fired one shot, just one, into the center of the brain. Gray matter soon coated the barn.
Dean shook the red from his eyes and dropped his gun on the floor. “Sammy?” His voice shook.
Sam heaved a shuddering breath and nodded convulsively before gripping Dean’s shoulder and using him to haul himself upright. “Hey. I’m okay, man. Thanks, Cas.” Sam grabbed Castiel’s hand and stood, then limped to the corner where a pale Charles Wallace, former douchey brain spokesman, lay moaning and pressing his head.
Dean looked at the cratered brain. He was coated in gray matter, but that was something he could deal with later. “Cas,” he said quietly.
“Dean.” Castiel stood at his elbow, a calming and familiar presence. Dean closed his eyes and imagined he could smell summer hay from the fields outside clinging to Castiel’s coat.
“Cas,” Dean said again. He turned and pulled Castiel into a hug even though being that close meant that Castiel could feel the tremors that still shook his arms. He buried his nose into Castiel’s neck and breathed deeply. Then he said, “I can’t believe you got to use the grenade launcher before me.”
Castiel laughed quietly and wrapped his arms around Dean. “Next time,” he promised.