Dogtown

By Tidia & MOG, September 2006


Chapter 4/10

Even though the sun had long since set, Dean was thankful for the Forestry Department access trail, which offered protection from any prying eyes that might be on the main road. He killed the headlights and engine and let the Impala coast to a stop.

Slowly, with Dean’s flashlight leading the way, they walked through the woods. The darkness seemed to amplify the sounds of the forest.

“Stay sharp,” Dean said. He raised his voice and called out, “Heeere doggy…come on, come here hell boy…”

Sam clicked off his shotgun’s safety while turning on the small Mag light securely taped to the top of the weapon. “If this was only recon, why are we armed to the hilt.”

“Negative thinking.”

“What?”

“Negative thinking. It’s like reverse psychology,” explained Dean, while continuously scanning their surroundings. “I figure if we go into this thinking it’s only recon, then it’s a sure bet we’re gonna get hit up on by this dog on steroids. But if we’re totally ready – we won’t even see a squirrel.”

“Your mind never fails to amaze me.” Sam shook his head. “I’m still thinking coyote.”

Dean paused. “Yeah, well…something hurt that girl.”

Sam stopped too. A suffocating silence had suddenly descended around them. Wordlessly, they moved back-to-back, each sweeping the woods with light.

Sam turned to his right. “Did you see that?”

He stepped forward and Dean moved to join him. Focusing their flashlights in the direction of a large boulder, the beams became one and lit up the face of a huge, black dog with crimson eyes.

In the dim light, it almost seemed to shift between a solid physical mass and a wavering spirit form. Its head was massive, flat and square like that of a Mastiff. The muscles of its broad chest and shoulders swelled when it took a step towards them and dug filthy, talon-like claws into the dirt. Black lips curled back and the skin of its snout wrinkled as it snarled, revealing jagged teeth that shined with saliva.

“Coyote?” Dean whispered, raising his Colt pistol. “Not so much.”

A deep growl emanated from the monster’s chest. It hunched its back and the dark fur rippled. Both boys knew what was coming.

The beast launched itself at them and they separated, firing their weapons. The spray of rock salt from Sam’s shotgun made a hissing sound as it struck the dog, and the creature’s angry shriek echoed through the woods. It landed to Sam’s left and he tried to pivot away, but it lashed out, cat-like, with one set of razor-sharp claws.

Sam’s defensive move was only partially successful. He gasped as the creature’s talons struck home, raking shallow slices into the flesh of his left arm. Dean fired several rounds into the dog’s side and hoped the .45 caliber silver bullets that he’d dipped in holy water would have the desired effect.

The huge canine let loose a horrific scream and stumbled back, but remained on its feet. Dean used the opportunity to get to his brother. Sam kept his wounded arm tight against his chest, and with the right forearm, he pressed against the cuts, staunching the blood flow while still keeping the shotgun trained on the black dog.

Dean clamped his flashlight high up under his arm, grabbed a fistful of Sam’s flannel shirt and pulled him backwards to increase the space between themselves and the snarling creature.

“You okay?” Dean moved in front of his brother, placing himself between the dog and Sam.

“Good enough,” Sam answered, ready for the fight.

“Close your eyes and cover your ears.”

Sam reacted without question, knowing what his brother was planning. Seconds later, he heard the expected bang and, even through closed lids, his eyes picked up the flash of light from the plastic, can-sized diversionary grenade.

Dean moved left while Sam went to the right. The dog howled in confusion, snapping and snarling in reaction to the sensory overload. It recovered from the flash-bang far faster than Dean had anticipated. He could only watch as the massive creature lunged at his brother.

Sam stumbled back, letting loose another blast of rock salt. He fell backwards just as Dean fired repeatedly at the animal. Four out of the five slugs found their target while Sam scrambled to reload from his position on the ground.

Dean waited for the black dog to drop and cease moving before he approached. A bubbling, hissing noise caught his ear and he watched as the beast’s body reacted to the purification of the salt, silver and holy water.

In the beam of his flashlight, Dean saw fur, tissue, and bone melt into the earth.

He scooped up the reusable flash grenade and shoved it in his jacket pocket before turning away from the dissolving corpse to check on his brother. Sam still sat where he’d fallen, sandwiching his wounded limb between his body and his right arm. The shotgun lay on the ground next to him and the beam from the Mag light taped to the double barrel lit up Dean’s feet as he approached.

Dean worked to catch his breath from the fight as he clicked on his pistol’s safety and tucked the weapon away against the small of his back. He shined his own flashlight down at his brother. “You still okay?”

Sam glanced at the torn, bloody sleeve of his flannel shirt, then back up at Dean and showed a small grin. “I think I need to arrange a second date with Marilyn.”

Sam’s smile fell away when his eyes landed on something behind his brother. “Uhh, Dean…”

The older Winchester turned slowly and flashed his light on what caught Sam’s attention. A thin, wizened woman, with long white hair - frizzy and wild - stood by the large boulder where they’d first seen the black dog. Her skin stretched taut over the facial bones and a milky film veiled her eyes. She wore a gray, ankle-length sheath dress and shabby black shoes that resembled ballet slippers.

“Where the hell did she come from?” whispered Dean, watching her carefully as his hand inched slowly toward the pistol tucked behind his back.

“She just appeared,” Sam whispered back.

“Appeared like, ‘from behind the rock’ appeared or-”

“Like ‘materialized from mist’ appeared.”

Dean watched her for a moment, then whispered again to his brother. “If she asks if we’ve seen her dog – say no.”

Her hand reached out; extending skeletal fingers so pale they seemed transparent. “The toll must be paid.”

Both brothers immediately recognized the phrase from what the teens in the laundromat told Sam. However, neither of them felt threatened by the somber woman. After being attacked by a demonic canine, a crone seemed innocuous.

Dean’s hand slid under his coat. “I only have plastic,” he answered.

The woman’s voice became more insistent. “The toll must be paid.”

Sam gave up the protective hold on his arm to reach slowly for the shotgun. “Geez, Dean, the ghost wants your ass.”

Though Sam couldn’t see his brother’s face, he could hear the smile in Dean’s voice. “It’s the ‘bad boy’ thing. It’s what hooked Cindy and Leslie Hagerman too.”

Sam grinned, while still moving his hand toward the weapon next to him. “Yeah, and if I remember, Mrs. Hagerman said there were two kinds of bad boys that moms worry about – the ones that will break their daughters’ hearts and the ones that will break into their neighbor’s house.”

“She always was too overprotective. And this one’s not as well-preserved as I like my women.” Dean watched the beam from Sam’s flashlight bob through the darkness as the shotgun was picked up. “You ready?”

“Yep.”

The woman stared at Dean with watery eyes and lifted a hand to point at him. “I remember you….”

She didn’t get a chance to finish. Sam saw her focus her attention on his brother and he fired from the ground before she could attempt anything. She screamed and stumbled back into the large boulder. The instant she came in contact with the rock she slumped forward but kept her arms spread wide, pressed against the stone.

Her skeletal fingers gripped tight to every edge they touched as she stood upright.

“Wait!” Dean blurted, stepping in front of Sam as he struggled to his feet. Their flashlight beams cast the old woman in an eerie glow, and though Dean pointed his pistol at her, he’d yet to fire.

She raised her head and Dean noticed that the milky film across her eyes had cleared. He took a step forward while gesturing for his brother to hang back, but he stopped when the woman spoke again.

“I’m Emily…” she pleaded. Her voice sounded dramatically younger. “I’m Emily…Please, you did this…” With one hand, she slapped her chest several times. “She’s here…she wants…”

The woman lurched forward and Dean heard Sam shout from behind him.

“Move!”

“No!” Dean spun towards his brother as a blast from the shotgun reverberated through the dark woods.

The rock salt seemed to pass through the old woman as she moved away from the boulder. She lifted her hands and from behind her, a violent wind swept through. Engulfing the brothers, it forced them into protective, crouched positions. Seconds later, the wind stopped and they stood alone amongst the trees.

Soft crackles and swishes dusted the woods with faint noise as leaves stirred up by the gust settled back to the forest floor.

“What the hell was that?” asked Sam, tersely. “What did she mean she remembers you?”

Dean didn’t answer right away. He looked at his brother and Sam could see the raw emotion in the green eyes before Dean looked back at the large rock.

“It can’t be her,” he whispered.

“Can’t be who? Damn it, Dean, enough with the closed-mouth crap-”

“Emily Carver,” Dean stated flatly. “That was her name…she’s why we’re here.”

The older Winchester pushed down a barrage of memories and looked around. “Listen, we just let off a whole lot of noise that I do not want to have to answer questions about. Let’s just get back to the room so we can take care of that arm and…I’ll explain there. I’ll explain everything.”