No Light Without Darkness

Chapter 3: You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet

May 14th, 2.30am
Lazarus, Nebraska

Sam wanted to kick Dean… hard. He had pulled a couple of stunts in his years of hunting but this was absolutley ludicrous. He’d said it was a new deep, but considering he was at least 60 feet off the ground at the moment made that bubble burst quite fast. He couldn’t believe that Dean had actually talked him into climbing the church tower of the Lazarus Methodist Church and that in the middle of the night. Of course they couldn’t check out the tip of the tower in broad daylight but Sam had seen himself crushed on the ground more then once within the last half hour. It was part of their routine to take a look at the crimescenes but this was getting out of hand if you asked Sam.
Now he was clinging onto the rim of the roof trying to come down the same way he had climbed up without taking the swandive. He hated it. His arms hurt like hell and the adrenaline level he sported at the moment was beyond medical comprehension. He struggled changing his grips according to the instructions his brother gave his from below. Why had he been the one to climb up again? Right. He had the longer arms. For once in his life Sam regretted being the taller of them.
It took him another five minutes and two more litres of panicked sweat until his feet hit the ground again and he promised to never do such a fucked up stunt again. Ever. “And?”
Dean looked at him expectantly.
“Nothing. It was a complete waste of energy and nerves and… man, my arms hurt like hell!”
He rubbed his shoulders and started walking down the street towards their motel.
“There was nothing there, the cross has been removed… probably evidence, there was no sulfur, no strange markings or anything that hinted at a possession of any kind. As I said it was a bust.”
Dean nodded.
“Oh and Dean… If you EVER suggest something like this again then it’s going to be you that hauls his ass up three storeys on the side of a house.”
“Sure… next time.”
Dean promised unblinking and gave him an apologetic smile and a reassuring clap on the shoulder.
“I just hope this coroner gets his fricking paper work done soon before we gotta catch every cat in town just to be sure…”


May 14th, 2pm
The New Rising Motel
Lazarus, Nebraska

Sam watched Dean leave the bathroom toweling his hair. They had agreed on Dean trying to get his hands on the reports of the medical examiner to see where they stood. His brother threw the towel over a chair and started digging through his bag for some respectable clothes to fit his role of the day. Sam who had been running a Google-search on his laptop eyed him warily. This case was a bitch. Sam just wanted to return his attention back to the screen as he stopped midmotion looking at his brother carefully again. Something was wrong. He knew it. But it took him a long moment to figure out what it was. He looked his brother over. Dean had a towel around his hips the tattoo on his chest flashing darkly against his skin being the only dark spot but… when Sam saw what it was that had irritated him his breath hitched.
“Dean?”
The older Winchester brother had just pulled a pair of shorts, dark slacks and a white shirt from his bag. He looked up with a questioning look.
“What’s up, Sammy?”
Sam’s eyes involuntarily went back to Dean’s chest. Dean looked down on himself and the protective tattoo that adorned his torso.
“Dean, where’s your necklace?”
Sam hadn’t noticed it at first. The pendant Sam had given Dean half a life back – the one his brother had not taken off once as long as Sam could remember – was not where it belonged. The metal that hung on a leather band had become a part of Dean’s body and identity and now it was missing. Sam couldn’t recall when he had last seen it, for it was always there and he hardly took notice of it anymore.
Dean frowned looking down on himself again sliding a hand around his neck.
“I don’t know.”
“What? You mean you didn’t notice it was gone?”
Sam had to admit that he felt a little anxious about that. He had always felt good about Dean wearing the necklace… it was like the one reminder of the few good childhood memories they had together. The fact that it had mostly been just Sam and Dean all their life. The pendant had been Sam’s way of thanking his big brother for always taking care of him and he knew Dean had appreciated that when he accepted it and never even seemed to think of taking it off. Sam had always had the feeling that for Dean taking off the necklace would be like giving up the responsibility he felt for Sam. Of course that was a little exaggerated and Sam knew that very well. A psychologist could fill a book with that but Sam couldn’t help but think so anyway.

“No.”
Dean frowned. He looked around himself and walked back to the bathroom. It took a minute for him to emerge again scratching the back of his head.
“I dunno man… Maybe the string ripped or something.”
He looked the floor over for a minute then went back to his pile of clothes and started dressing.
“I’ll look in the car later. It’s probably there or somewhere between my stuff.”
Sam turned away from Dean rubbing his eyes. It was slightly surreal how sad he felt because Dean didn’t freak out. His brother – although he always played the cool guy – could be hugely protective over the few things he really cared about. Those things were Sam, their dad, the Impala and Sam could have sworn that the pendant had been among those things as well. But Dean didn’t get all frantic as he would have if that were the case and Sam found himself hiding a child’s pout from his brother’s notice.

May 14th, 11pm
Jackson Hole, Wyoming

“God, you don’t even get reception out here.”
Dean huffed at his cellphone and put it back into his jeans. He had a weapon to load.
He snapped the shotgun closed after inserting the rocksalt filled buckshots then set it on his lap and checked the magazine of consegrated bullets – he had sprayed them with holywater once more just to be sure – and popped it into the silver glock. He worked the slide once so the first bullet was inserted into the weapon and checked the savety.
“You got everything for a nice little salt ‘n burn, Sam?”
He looked at his brother, who showed him a backpack fulled with all their necessary goodies: Salt, lampfuel, another shotgun and a pack of matches. He had the second of Dean’s flower necklaces hanging out of the backpack.
“And you’re sure the attacks all happened at this part of the street?”
Sam gave him a look that left no questions unanswered.
“Well, then let’s go kick some demon dog’s ass.”
He got out and grabbed his lei from the backseat after shoving the glock down the back of his pants. He held the shotgun in his left and his lei in the right taking an assessing look around the area. Sam had gotten out as well. His own shotgun now in hand and the backpack strapped over his left shoulder. They closed the car’s doors and took a few steps down the road, their eyes shifting restlessly over the gloomy lighted woods. They waited, backs to one another so they couldn’t be sneaked up on by anything big, hairy and hungry.

Dean didn’t count the time but he estimated about half an hour at least until his brother started speaking. Actually he had been slightly irritated that Sam was so quiet. Normally the taller of the two always had something on his mind and he never felt like keeping it to himself. Sam liked to share his thoughts as he thought them and Dean was pleasantly used to that. So a wordless Sam was irritating the crap out of Dean. It made him think that his brother was holding something back and it was never good when Sam held back. He was close to smacking Sam over the head and giving him a “Whatever it is you better get it out at once or I’m gonna make you tell!”-speech whan Sam finally stirred again.
The younger Winchester brother turned looking slightly bored.
“What if it’s not hungry? Or what if it only hunts in a special time of the year?”
Dean suppressed a half relieved, half annoyed sigh.
“I know Black Dogs, Sam. This one has it’s hunting grounds and it kills when there is an easy meal nearby… and tonight that’s us. The people out here don’t wander through the nature at night normally. That’s the only reason there were only a few citizens of this nice little city to end up as dogfood yet.”
Sam looked at him.
“So we’ll stand here and wait all night?”
Dean shrugged at a loss of a better idea. “Well… yeah, that’s the plan.”
“God…”
“You can call me Dean.”
He got a dirty look for that comment and couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I think I even prefer grave desecration to this.”
“Well then I know who will get the shovel next time, Sammy.”
“Why can’t the jobs that see us standing in the woods in the middle of the night be in one of the warmer states just for once? I mean it’s not like we live in Canada or something.”

Sam pulled the jacket closer around himself and Dean quirked an eyebrow at him. But it was true. For May this was a really cold night. He watched his brother in the pissed off mood and decided that it was time to lighten up the situation a little and since they couldn’t have a beer right now, he decided to go for bickering instead.
"We have to lure that son of a bitch out of hiding."
Sam turned to him expectantly.
"And how exactly should we do that?"
He knew that this question would come.
"Well for one you could try to look more appetizing then you do right now..."
Sam stared him down for a moment.
"Sure, Dean! Why don't I go hang a steak around my neck and grease my ass with gravy, that should do the trick!"
"Whatever floats your boat, dude."
He couldn’t help himself. He grinned doing his best to swallow down a laughing fit.
“What the... DEAN!”
Sam looked slightly indignated and Dean couldn’t blame him for it.
“Hey, you’re the one who suggested it!”
"Man, sometimes your such a jerk!"
"Bitch."
He grinned at Sam but his brother just rolled his eyes at him and turned to stake out a tree he could have a staring contest with.
Dean didn’t get Sam’s strange mood this evening.
“Alright, be like that if you have to. But I just want to make clear that I didn’t do anything to you that makes this whole pouting puppy thing a rightful act of vengeance.”
“Whatever.”
Dean nodded to himself deciding that a dark, cold and late evening in the woods waiting for a hungry, calf-sized, homicidal dog was probably not the place for their family drama and let it go for the moment.

May 14th, 8.30pm
The New Rising Motel
Lazarus, Nebraska


“You’re kidding me right?”
Sam was close to just falling into bed and sleeping for the next month. Dean had finally gotten his hands on those medical reports and it was clear that the burned victim had really been Ester, the pseudo-skinwalker girlfriend.
“So even if she was a skinwalker then there is no skin left for her to walk around now anymore.”
Dean shrugged.
“If she had been one then he would have had to shoot her with silver bullets first. But she was clean… no silver anywhere. Just a few broken fingers from the time he tortured her.”
Sam frowned.
“But how does this explain what Leroy saw and how did he manage to kill himself on top of that tower? Was he possessed?”
Dean opened the ilegally made copy of a confidential report and handed it to his younger brother. Sam sat down on the edge of his bed balancing the papers on his lap. He read the parts of loony Leroy’s autopsy which Dean had highlighted with a yellow marker. It made him want to scream from frustration.
“So this whole job was a complete bust. The guy was really just a paranoid homicidal creep?”
Dean shrugged.
“Well we could still check out if there was anything in the history of this one-horse town or it’s peripherie that sounds fishy… But the autopsy said nothing was out of the ordinary but the drugs… no sulfur, nothing.”
Sam threw the report to the foor and lay on his back hand over his eyes.
“I did that all day, Dean. Nothing. No missing persons, no local lore, no murders or even animal deaths. This town is as clean as it could be.”

He forced himself to sit back up.
“That newspaper reporter who wrote the article about this case should be fired… I mean I have never heard of such a crappy research. Everyone with some interest could find out that Leroy was a complete wacko.”
He sighed.
“I can’t believe the guy was actually able to climb a tower on that dose of LSD he had in his blood. Must have used it regularly…”
“Well that explains how he managed to stake himself on the cross.”
“So this really isn’t our kind of job?”
Dean shrugged and grabbed his jacket. “Tell you what. We’ll stay one more night and check out if we missed something. If nothing new turns up we’re out of here by tomorrow evening, okay?”
Sam frowned at him.
“Yeah, I guess…”
Psychotic murderers on acid trips… as though demonic evil wasn’t enough, some people just had to destroy themselves for good measure, it seemed.
“So while you sulk about not getting anything to kill here, could we go and grab something to eat at the diner across the street?”
“Yeah... You go on and get a table already, I’ll be there in a minute, okay?”
“Sure but don’t take to long or I’ll order your food for you...”

Sam only nodded watching Dean leave. He sighed and found himself pondering the fact that Dean didn’t seem to be at all upset or at least annoyed by this case… Normally he was the one who went into withdrawal as soon as he didn’t get his head count for the week. But this time Dean didn’t seem to be anywhere near his usual pain in the ass but always good natured self and Sam found himself worrying. Maybe he was more upset about not having the Impala around or maybe even at having lost his pendant then he let show. Sam decided to take matters in his own hands and started digging for his cell phone.
Sam was sure that something was working against him in this universe – other then the people he already knew about that is – when he only got the answering machine as he dialed Bobby’s number.
“Hey Bobby, this is Sam. It seems that this case we were working on isn’t our kind of deal afterall. We’ll probably be out of Nebraska by tomorrow, after we’ve got our last confirmation that this really is a bust. I hope you’ve got the Impala up and running again because Dean has been a serious pain in the ass lately, you know? He just wasn’t quite himself without the car and I hope he’ll turn more normal once he has his ride back or I’m going nuts around the guy. So we will stop by in the next days, I just wanted to warn you in advance. Okay, thanks already. Bye.”


May 15th, 1am
Jackson Hole, Wyoming


Dean snapped back to attention before he saw or heard anything substantial, but he knew something had changed. He nudged Sam with his elbow and the other man’s head snapped around. They listened to their own breaths for a heart beat or two staring into the darkness. Something moved. He couldn’t really see anything but it was there, he knew it. After more then two decades of hunting evil in the dark he had acoomplished a sixth sense of his own. Sometimes no sound screamed louder to him then silence. It was to quiet. The tiny hairs on the back of his hair stood up in the chill if the night but not from low temperatures. He was sure that something moved just a few yards to his side. It was as though the darkness would grow from standard water-color black to pitch-swallow-all-light-black there. He stared at the spot and Sam got out the big torchlight switching it on and sending the beam at the space Dean had fixed with an unblinking stare.
His heart sped up to double its pace. There it was. In front of them stood the biggest dog they would probably lay their eyes on in their life. The shaggy black coat of the monster seemed to shine wet in the cold white light of Sam’s torch. The beast stood with a crooked back it’s shoulders on a higher level then the rest of the huge 200 pound Black Dog. For a moment Dean wasn’t sure if it even had a head – not that he hadn’t already seen one without – but then the demon dog ruffled the fur on its back so that it stood on end and started trembling like ivory leaves because of the shaking musceles underneath. A low growl that let Dean’s blood run cold forced it’s way form the black mount of evil spirit presence and the beast craned it’s neck upwards from it’s formerly bent over position.
“Wooaa!”

Dean had to agree with his brother’s reaction. That was one creepy ass son of a bitch, really. The Black Dog’s eyes were huge, glowing like a candle… white-blue at the center of heat turning more yellow and finally red on the edges. With that unnatural glow there was no telling how big the actual eyes really were, because there was no distinct edge between ass creepy glowing eyeballs and ass creepy monster figure.
Dean had the distinct feeling that the thing didn’t really appreciate having a torch pointed at it’s ugly face… it had brought it’s own light anyway. But in the shine of Sam’s torch Dean could make out a mouth that was big enough to bite off his arm if he gave it the chance to. The fangs were of a sick, yellowish colour and the canines measured up to the length of Dean’s fingers.
The grisly growl grew louder every second and Dean found himself clenching his jaw waiting for the first move to be made. He felt the lei in his hand – thankfully he had made it long enough to fit around a bull’s neck – and took one slow deep breath. The thought of getting close enough to the Black Dog to get the necklace over it’s head sent his adrenaline to a new high.
“Hey there, sunshine, must be nice to always lighten up a room when entering, eh?”
Their opponent drew back the skin over it’s teeth showing the slimy ghost spit dripping from them, pulling long threads. Another rumbling sound wound it’s way from the spirits chest and to Dean it sounded like dry bones being slowly ground to dust under twenty tons of granite… who said that Sam was the philosophical one in the family here?

Then hell broke loose around them… somewhere in the woods somewhere in Wyoming.
The Black Dog launched it’s attack directly at Dean. It’s jump brought it up to eye level with him – not that it didn’t reach the mid of his chest easily while standing. Dean threw himself to his left dodging the drooling fangs only by an inch and rolled into a kneeling position lifting his shotgun just in time to see the Dog half over him already. It hadn’t even lost speed while turning and had launched at him again immediately. He pulled the trigger and the salt-filled buckshots ripped through the Black Dog as it turned into black smoke.
Dean could hear himself panting more from the adrenaline then from physical labour and listened. There was a growl from behind him and Sam who had taken a step further towards Dean’s new position raised his own rifle. The dog appeared out of thin air only two feet in front of Dean. It flickered into existence like a camouflage being pulled away and slammed into Dean with all the force an actually non-existing body could muster. He was thown down hard, his head hitting the gravel with a painful thud. Sparks exploded in front of his vision at the impact and then once again as Sam emptied a buck shot in the scruffy looking demonic puppy that was currently standing on Dean’s chest. Within a second the heavy weight that had pressed down on him with claws piercing through his shirt was gone again and he rolled to the side making sure he still had the lei and shotgun in a deathgrip. He groaned getting back to his knees.
“Why me? Why am I always the one getting his head slammed headlong into solid objects?”

Sam didn’t answer for he was turning around slowly trying to get a glimpse of their attacker again. Dean turned his head to one side hearing his neck’s abused bones crack in a sound of defeat. He was getting pissed real fast at this thing. He saw movement to his one side and the Black Dog reappeared like a flickering candle in a light breeze and managed to jump behind a huge pine tree as it tried to jump him – again. He pressed his back against the treetrunk and suddenly he felt a slimy cold running down his back eating its way through to the front of his chest and out again. It happened within the blink of an eye and he saw a black flash before he knew what had happened. The Black Dog had decided not to go around the tree Dean was using as a shield but rather to go right through it. But by the way of doing that it had passed right through Dean as well. It was the most disgusting feeling Dean could remember ever experiencing – and that ought to say something.
He shook himself as Sam took another shot urging him ito action. The buck shot didn’t catch the Black Dog the way they did the first two times but only grazed it, making its hind legs flicker in and out of exitence for a second. That was all the time Dean would get and all the time he really needed. He let the shotgun fall from his grip and jumped forwards, passing the spirit in the run and spread the lei wide. It didn’t catch but the Black Dog was reeling around again like a bull tuning in onto the torero and Dean flicked the lei in front of his chest like a red cloth.
“Olé, bitch.”
As the Black Dog growled once more and threw itself at Dean’s face he waited just a moment longer then absolutely necessary before sidestepping the attack and throwing out his arms with the lei. This time it wasn’t a miss. The flowered necklace slipped over the beasts neck smoothly.
There was only one catch and that was Deans left arm… He hadn’t been fast enough it seemed for a searing pain was emitted from his forearm where one long and infectuous looking canine had embedded itself in the soft flesh. Dean cursed and had to keep himself from trying to pull his arm away. One shake of the dogs head and half his arm would be ripped from the bones.

“SAM!”
The cry was a painfilled and urgent one but he mustn’t have worried. A shot popped from Sam’s .45 and echoed from the trees around them. The first one was followed by three more within a matter of seconds and the jaw that had held a firm grip on Dean’s beloved extremity loosened considerably. But he was still pulled down as the now very solid 200 pounds of demonic zombie-puppy fell over, half burying him beneath it. It took him a moment of frantic scrambling to get his bloodied and bruised arm freed completely and wiggle his way out from beneath the now snuffed Black Dog. Sam had put four consegrated rock iron rounds into the back of its head.
He got to his knees cradling his aching arm – somehow he was really getting used to the feeling of blood running down his body – and Sam stood beside him a moment later. “Dean, are you okay?”
He closed his eyes for a moment. Sam had to be quite pissed at him of he didn’t fuss over him the way he normally did whenever Dean did something incredibly stupid or admiringly brave again – or both, mainly both.
“Yeah. You saved my ass here, bro. I’ll just need a fresh tetanus shot after being chewed on by that bitch.”
Sam pulled him up on his shoulder giving him an assessing look. Dean shot him a look that said no-chick-flick-moments and grabbed Sam’s backpack with his good hand.

A/N: Title is “You ain’t seen nothing yet” by Bachman-Turner Overdrive used in the episode “Malleus Malificarum”.
Thanks to Cat for betaing and the gracious lending of a few words I just had to have in here…
How about a few reviews, you anonymous readers?? I would like to hear what you think. I don’t bite… at least not hard.