Carefully, Sam tried to move the piece of metal that was stuck in his leg. His attempts sent shards of pain through his body and Sam didn't think that he had the strength to keep trying for much longer. He was cold, tired and afraid that he might go into shock from the blood loss. Despite his efforts, the wound was still bleeding and his attempts to remove the metal weren't helping the matter very much.
He let his head rest against the back of his seat and looked out at the woods. He wasn't quite sure how much time had passed, but he thought that by now he should have seen some sign of a rescue team. He hadn't even heard a search plane fly over them.
Suddenly he noticed something in the woods. He couldn't see anything, but he had this feeling … something was looming in the shadows and watching him. Straightening up in his seat, Sam remembered what he had read about the Boobooshaw - a shadow like creature, always hungry and always on the hunt; and almost impossible to see until it was too late.
Not taking his eyes away from the trees, Sam reached behind his seat for his duffel bag. He ignored the pain in his leg inflicted by his movement. If he really was being watched, he didn't want to let on that he knew he was. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the bag onto his lap and took out his pistol with the sawed-off double-barrel, Dean's Colt 1911 .45 caliber semi-automatic, that his brother had insisted he take with him, several rock salt cartridges and silver bullets. He quickly loaded his guns; not having to watch what he was doing he could still keep an eye on the woods - his father had made sure that he could load weapons in his sleep. At the time, he had thought that every 10 year old should know about these things; this belief had gotten him into serious trouble with his teacher back then.
He held the weapons ready; and not a moment too soon. Seemingly out of nowhere a black creature appeared out of the shadows and slowly crept forwards towards the crashed helicopter. Sam swallowed; for all the fun Dean had made about the Boobooshaw, he hadn't thought that the sight would actually scare him as much as it did. The creature was solid black; it was as if he was staring into complete nothingness. Two glowing red eyes, which reminded Sam a lot of the devil himself, were the only sign that this thing was alive - or as alive as something like the Boobooshaw could be.
Sam tightened his grip around the double-barrel, at the same time he glanced down at the Colt on his lap. He noticed his mistake too late, it only took the creature this one second of unattention for preparing its attack. When Sam looked up again, it had already reached the helicopter and in the blink of a moment it jumped on Sam, ripping the gun from his hand. The Boobooshaw's head - and Sam was most certain that this thing was indeed the Boobooshaw - was so close to Sam that he could feel its breath on his face. He didn't dare move, let alone take in air; maybe if he kept frozen, this thing wouldn't realize he was still alive.
The sniffing sounds coming from the Boobooshaw told Sam that this belief had been useless.
He stared at the creature with wide eyes; his panic rising to a complete new level when the Boobooshaw opened its mouth and large, sharp teeth were revealed. He tried freeing his hand that still held the Glock, but the Boobooshaw noticed the movement and immediately drove its claws into Sam's arm. He had to grit his teeth to not scream out loud.
The Boobooshaw's head moved closer to his face and Sam could swear that the look of evil and hunger had intensified within seconds. The creature had stopped sniffing, instead it put one of its paws on Sam's chest. The grip was so tight that Sam was sure it would rip his heart out any second.
The thought flashed through his mind that this was not how he had imagined to die … somehow he had always believed his brother or father would be nearby. For a while even he had let himself believe that he would die as an old man, after living a long and fulfilled live at Jessica's side.
A sudden coldness spread through his chest and from there through his whole body; it stopped all thoughts of a happy life with a wife and children. The only feelings left were dread, hopelessness and a growing emptiness that seemed to fill every fibre of his body. It felt as if the Boobooshaw was drawing out the very source of his life.
Sam knew then that he would not make it out of here alive.
XXXXXXX
Intently, Dean watched the surroundings as they passed by. He knew that it was impossible for Sam to be anywhere that close to town, but he could not not look. They had been driving for about 20 minutes and already Dean was running out of patience. He wished he had insisted on driving himself; not that he knew the area or had any idea of what direction they had to take, but at least it would have kept his mind occupied. As it was, he had already imagined at least ten different scenarios of how his little brother could have died in the helicopter crash.
He didn't really believe in God and he hardly ever prayed, but if there was a God, Dean thought it wouldn't hurt to ask him to make sure that Sam was all right. So he sent regular prayers up to heaven, hoping against all reason that it might make a difference.
"How long have you and your partner been working together?" Lars Anderson asked. He was the only one who had been willing to help Dean look in this part of the woods.
"Several years." Dean swallowed. More like his whole life. He couldn't believe that he had let Sam out of his sight. He had vowed not to do that again when they had left Stanford the second time - after Jessica's death and after the thought that he had nearly lost his brother to a fire just like their Mom.
"I've known Lenny almost my whole life. His wife was an english teacher and she taught me the language when my parents and I had moved here." Lars said, his eyes never leaving the road ahead of them.
"Where'd you come from?" Dean asked; not that he was really interested, but it kept his mind busy and that was worth having a conversation with a man he would never see again in his life once this was over. And he was helping him find Sam, so Dean thought he owed him some polite small talk.
"Sweden. My parents immigrated here when I was six. I learnt the language a lot faster than they did; advantages of the youth, I guess." Lars replied.
"You remember Sweden?" Dean inquired.
"Not really, just a few images that I can't really relate to. My parents don't talk much about it; they had a hard time there I think." Lars said thoughtfully. "Where are you from?"
Dean didn't even hesitate when he replied. "Born and raised in New York. I fell in love with that town from birth. I never left and getting that job with the New York Post was the best that could happen to me." He and Sam always had their cover story build up thouroughly.
"Did you meet Sam at the Post?"
"No." Dean shook his head. "No, I knew him a long time before that." Okay, that hadn't been part of their fake background, but the words had left his mouth before Dean could even really think about them.
"We'll find him." Lars said after a moment of silence. "If not in this area, then in the one Clayton is leading the search party."
Dean nodded, but didn't say anything. Of course he would find Sam; he wouldn't leave the woods without him.
A few minutes later, Lars pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car. A huge tree stump was blocking the path in front of them.
"This is as far as we can get. The road is flooded a bit higher from here, so we'll have to go around it." Lars told him.
"Okay." Dean nodded and grabbed his duffel bag from the bag seat.
Lars shot him a curious look; he had already asked why Dean wasn't using a backbag like every other member of the search team. Dean hadn't given him an answer then and he wasn't going to get into the matter now.
"Let's go." He said.
XXXXXXX
Gasping for air, Sam kept his eyes closed tightly. He tried to concentrate on anything but this evil creature sucking the life out of him. This thing wouldn't be the last Sam was going to see or think about in his life.
He tried to think of Dean, his father, Jessica, Jade … all the people that meant something in his life. But he couldn't shake the image of the glowing eyes staring at him, the feeling of hot breath on his skin and the pain coming from his chest.
It hurt so much that it was hard to think of anything but that. And with every passing second, Sam felt more disconnected from this life until there was only him and the Boobooshaw left.
He had already given up hope, when suddenly the grip on his chest loosened and the Boobooshaw's head snapped up.
It took Sam a moment to realize that something had changed, but after a moment or two, he forced his eyes to open. Blinking away the black dots dancing in front of his eyes, he saw the Boobooshaw staring at the side of the woods. Sam forced himself to follow his line of sight; at first he couldn't see anything, but after a few moments he thought he saw an old woman standing several feet away. The thought flashed through his mind that he had to warn her, but there wasn't really anything he could do. If he'd yell at her to run it would only draw the creature's attention towards her as well. He just hoped that she had enough sense in her to run away as fast and as far as she could. And maybe get some help for them on the way.
He focused his attention back on the Boobooshaw; it had suddenly let go of him completely and moved over to Leonard. Horrified, Sam watched how the creature put its claw on the pilot's chest, just like it had done with Sam moments before. This time Sam noticed a blue light glowing around Leonard's chest and the Boobooshaw's paw; the creature seemed to take in this light. Sam remembered how he had thought as if his life source had been sucked out of him; maybe he had been right. It would also explain why he suddenly felt weaker than before. He tightened his grip around his gun and lifted his arm to aim at the beast; it felt like it weight a ton.
Breathing heavily, Sam managed to take aim and pulled the trigger. He fired the whole magazine into the creature, but it didn't even blink.
"What the hell …" Sam muttered.
Hectically, his eyes wandered to the barrel the Boobooshaw had ripped away from him. It lay just outside the helicopter, but too far away for him to reach it. His bag had fallen to the ground too and his only chance to grab it would be by pulling his leg out; and he didn't think he would survive the blood loss then; let alone stay conscious long enough once the pain hit him. But he couldn't just sit by and let an innocent man die. He would simply have to take the risk. Inhaling deeply, Sam began to lean out of the helicopter and tried to reach for his bag. He gritted his teeth as a white, hot pain immediately spread up his leg again. Coughing and forcing down the tears in his eyes, he finally managed to reach the bag with his fingertips. Just a few millimetres more …
"Come on." Sam pressed out between breaths.
Suddenly the Boobooshaw let out a terrifying scream and Sam jerked up again and turned to the creature. His eyes widened in horror when he saw Leonard - his face was ashen and haggard, like he had been dead for days. And he looked at least twenty years older.
Before Sam had a chance to grasp what he saw, the Boobooshaw dragged the pilot out of the helicopter and on the ground. Then it drove its claws deeply into Leonard's body and started tearing him up. Blood spluttered on the cockpit window and Sam saw intestines gushing out of his body. His stomach lurched when he saw the creature remove the heart with one quick blow. All of this happened so fast, that Sam had hardly any time to take it all in. And the silence in which all of this took place made it even more terrifying.
After a few minutes - it could have been hours, by now Sam had lost all track of time - the Boobooshaw let go of its prey and disappeared back into the woods.
Sam was left staring at the remains of Leonard Parker. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking as he reloaded the Colt; the silver bullets obviously wouldn't save him, but he needed to do something. A moment later Sam leaned out of the helicopter again and threw up.
XXXXXXX
Lars and Dean walked through the forest in silence. Both of them looked intently for any sign of the missing helicopter. They had been walking for nearly an hour, but still they hadn't found anything.
"How far is Tobias Jackson's cabin away from here?" Dean eventually broke the silence.
Lars looked at the woods for a moment before he replied. "One, maybe two miles further up north. What was your partner trying to find up there anyway? It's not like the body is still lying around there."
"Just doing the job." Dean replied shortly.
"U-hu." Lars looked at Dean from the side, but then decided to drop the subject. It wasn't really any of his business.
"How long have you been living in this town?" Dean asked. Not finding any sign of the helicopter was driving him nuts; he figured trying to find out a bit more information about this job - even though it was a closed matter since the salt and burn - would at least keep him sane.
"About 40 years." Lars replied.
Dean looked at him in surprise. He had thought Lars Anderson to be in his sixties, but this would make him only around 46 years.
"I know, I look older." Lars sighed. "I've been hearing that all my life."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to …"
"No, it's okay." Lars waved him off. "You get used to it after a while."
They stayed quiet for a while longer, but eventually Dean broke the silence once more. Clearing his throat, he tried to ask his next question as careful as possible.
"So, you were already here when they hung Jurij Majovic?" Okay, so he could have been more sensitive about this, but then again, he was running on short nerves.
Lars stopped in his tracks and stared at Dean as if he had lost his mind. "What?"
"Jurij Majovic. Young guy. Coming from an immigrant family like you. Liked to kill children. Got hung by a mob. Ring a bell?" Dean cocked an eyebrow at the older man.
Lars inhaled deeply and glared angrily at Dean. "Why are you bringing this up now?"
"So you do remember." Dean said instead of giving an answer.
"I was six years old." Lars hissed. "Is this your way for thanking people who help you?"
"This is my way of finding out the truth." Dean replied. "This whole town has kept this affair under wraps. And in the end, you got a very angry spirit on the loose."
"A spirit?" Lars stared at the older Winchester in disbelief.
"Oh, I'm sorry, a bear." Dean smirked. He shook his head and decided to drop the matter. There really was no use bringing this up. It was making him feel better to let his anger out, but it wasn't really fair towards the other man. He was the only help Dean had. Without him, he would have never made it this far in this time.
He kept walking a few feet when he noticed that Lars wasn't at his side anymore. He turned around to find the older man still standing frozen at the spot where he had left him. Sighing Dean walked a few steps back.
"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to …"
"It wasn't a bear." Lars interrupted him, his voice nearly toneless.
"Come again?" Dean looked at him confused.
"What killed those people … it was no bear. And it wasn't Jurij who killed those children back then."
"You don't say." Dean smirked.
Lars stayed quiet for a long moment and Dean was close to shaking him to get an answer - after all, they didn't have all day. Sam was still out there somewhere! But before his patience ran out, the older man started talking.
"The day Jurij died, this … thing took me. It was … it was not from this world. And it definitely wasn't a bear."
"What did it look like?" Dean asked curious.
"It was black, darker than the night. It …"
Before Lars had the chance to finish his sentence, a creature jumped out of the shadows. It ignored Dean and went straight towards the older man, throwing him on the ground and holding him down with its weight.
"Holy +%*+!" Cursing, Dean pulled out his gun and shot the whole magazine into the beast. Nothing happened. Instead a blue light appeared on Lars' chest.
"What the hell?" Staring at the light, Dean pulled out his second gun, this one filled with rock salt. Again he shot at the creature. And again nothing happened.
And then the light disappeared. The creature let out a shrieking sound before it clawed up the whole upper part of Lars' body. The older man didn't even have a chance to scream; he was already dead. With the bleeding heart in its paw, the creature turned towards Dean and glared at him hungry.
"Oh crap." Dean stared at the creature and pulled out his knife, knowing that there was no way he could win this fight. But he wasn't going to just give up either. "Come and get me, you ugly son of a *%!$@!"
The Boobooshaw slowly crept closer, but just a few feet in front of Dean it suddenly stopped and the hunger in its eyes turned into complete fury.
Dean grinned satisfied. "That's right, *%!$@! I won't go down without a good fight." Dean tightened the grip around his hunting knife, ready for the expected attack.
It never came. Instead of lunging itself at Dean, the creature let out another loud, shrieking scream and then disappeared into the woods. Dumbfounded, Dean stared at the empty spot the thing had left.
"Huh …" Confused, he looked at the knife in his hands. He somehow doubted that it had been enough to scare the creature away. But then why had it ran?
Dean looked around himself, just in case that there was something even creepier behind him that had scared the creature off.
There was nothing.
"Awkward." Dean scratched his head and finally allowed himself to relax. He put the knife away and walked the few steps to Lars' body. He didn't think there was anything he could do for him anymore - that thing had ripped out his heart! But he couldn't just leave him here like this either.
His thoughts were interrupted when another scream suddenly echoed through the woods - a human scream. And a very familiar one at that.
"SAM!"
TBC
I'll do my best to type faster the next time. *blushes*
