29th November, 2013
Snow on the ground, Thanksgiving in the air, Christmas just around the corner. The lives of the various branches of the Winchester family had settled into something approaching normal, enjoying a kind of peace they had been sorely lacking for quite some time. Events of a world-ending nature were at an all-time low, and even the demon activity had calmed down somewhat. Of course, that didn't mean there were no demons or monsters to deal with. Daily life threw up enough examples to keep the hunters interested outside their domesticity, and for Sam, in particular, it was a necessary diversion.
In the wake of the attacks that had stripped Becky of her father and temporarily of her sanity, he had made good on his promise to her grandfather to begin teaching her how to look after herself in the rough and ready world of the hunt. Months of patient theory had come down to this moment ....her first hunt. Something had been inflicting nightmares on small children in Sioux Falls; something relatively harmless, but if left unchecked, it could become more serious.
Between them, they had worked out that it had to be a monster, and eventually had come to the decision that it was a liquid shifter - a monster that could change its form at will, but was essentially a gelatinous being and thus relatively easy to handle. It was, of course, hiding in the sewers, and Sam had been hard pressed to keep Becky from charging down there without any prep at all. His insistence, however, meant that now they had a weapon - simple cooking oil, of all things, to separate the thing's molecules - and with the weather turning colder, now was the perfect time to go hunting.
Armed with her spray can, Becky squelched along dark tunnels with Sam, thrilled by the sense of safety and danger that came with her first voluntary adventure. "Ugh ....what did I step in?"
"Try not to think about it," Sam advised, knowing there were all kinds of things in the tunnels that she'd be better off not knowing about, and whatever she'd stepped in was just one of them. He didn't much want to think about them either, especially the rats. He'd almost rather have to face a half dozen demons than a couple of rats, but rats weren't what they were after today. With a flashlight in one hand and a spray can of oil in the other, Sam led the way through the tunnel in search of their prey. Though the monster they were hunting should have been fairly easy prey, Sam knew one could never be too careful as even the smallest mistake could be lethal.
"You know," she murmured, trying to keep her voice from echoing ahead of them, "you are far too comfortable down here. Is this a kink I should know about?" She flashed him an adrenaline-fueled grin in the light from the torch, just on the edge of hysterical excitement. It was one thing to read about these things; quite another thing to actively hunt them. The Men of Letters would not know what to do with her when Sam was through, and she loved it.
"Comfortable?" Sam echoed dubiously. "Hardly. The sewer is the last place I'd like to be, but these things like dark places, and you don't get much darker than this. And we should try to be quiet. We don't want this thing to know we're coming," he added, for good measure.
"It's made of goo, how does it have ears?" she asked, but she obediently shut her mouth after that. Not that doing so helped in the slightest. Barely a moment after she'd closed her mouth, a mass of said goo swarmed up the tunnel toward them, rising up in a wave that clearly intended to envelop the pair entirely. Becky, true to form, yelped and dropped her can, ducking and covering her face with her arms.
Sam might have explained that the thing didn't need to have ears, that it only needed to sense the vibration of their voices and footsteps and movement, but before he had a chance to do that, it seemed the thing had already found them.
"Becky! Light a match!" Sam shouted, as he stepped in front of her, not only to shield her from the thing, but to coat it with oil. The trick would be getting out of the way in time so that they didn't get trapped by the fireball that was likely to be caused by the flame.
Cowering behind him, Becky looked up, cringing just at the thought of being covered with that ....stuff ....heading in their direction. "Match, right," she muttered, digging into her pocket for the matches. "It's moving really fast, Sam!" And growing bigger, it seemed, the gelatinous mass expanding to fill the width of the tunnel as it accelerated toward them.
"Throw the match and run!" he shouted, emptying his can of oil and hoping it was enough. There was no time now to try and find the one she'd dropped. He was practically pushing her backwards already, in a hurry to get the hell out of there before they were covered in goop and oil and ended up going up on flames themselves.
The flame stuttered into life in her hands, flicked toward the oily disintegrating mass of whatever the hell that was. She stumbled in the ankle-deep water as Sam urged her back, pausing only long enough to see the oil ignite before letting out a loud squeal and ....attempting to outrun a fireball.
"Go, go, go!" he shouted, giving her a push in the opposite direction, just as the oil ignited with a loud whooshing sound and he felt the heat of the flames behind them. "Turn right!" he called, remembering a side passage they'd passed on their way in and hoping they could use it to take cover from the fireball that was inevitably headed their way.
She almost missed the turning, her fingertips catching the edge of the wall with just enough force to swing her off her straight line and sharply to the right. She ran straight into the painfully solid chill of a ladder - this wasn't a passage, it was an access-way, and there was only just enough room for the both of them in it with nothing peeking out to tempt the flames hard on their heels.
Sam ducked around the corner right on Becky's heels and pressed his body against hers to shield her from any flames that might manage to reach them there. The heat was almost unbearable, but there wasn't enough time to outrun the fireball; they just had to hope it burned itself out before it reached them.
She squeaked against his chest, squeezing her eyes shut as he crowded her into that small space, both hoping like hell this was not as crazy an idea as it seemed. With a roar, the fireball they had created whooshed toward them ....and sputtered out, the barest brush of flame licking the ladder at Sam's back but no further. The silence that followed was heavy, the darkness somehow darker than usual. Eventually, Becky blinked, peering over Sam's shoulder. "Is that it?"
Sam's eyes, too, were squeezed shut, and he found himself muttering a prayer to any deity that wanted to listen. He knew it was going to be a close call, but he felt the heat at his back and knew it had been almost too close. Hopefully, her grandfather would never find out just how close or they'd both get a lecture. "I think so," he replied, remaining where he was a moment longer and listening for any hint one way or the other in the main part of the tunnel.
"I think we made the sewer smell worse," she murmured, reluctantly releasing her grip on his shirt as she fished for the flashlight. They really should make sure their quarry was actually dead and gone before getting out of the acrid miasma they had created.
"Sorry," he told her. Burnt sewage never did smell very good, but neither did burnt oil or whatever that thing was they had just melted. "Stay here. I'll see if it's ....gone," he said, flicking his flashlight back on and prying himself slowly away from her to take a wary glance around the corner.
Snow on the ground, Thanksgiving in the air, Christmas just around the corner. The lives of the various branches of the Winchester family had settled into something approaching normal, enjoying a kind of peace they had been sorely lacking for quite some time. Events of a world-ending nature were at an all-time low, and even the demon activity had calmed down somewhat. Of course, that didn't mean there were no demons or monsters to deal with. Daily life threw up enough examples to keep the hunters interested outside their domesticity, and for Sam, in particular, it was a necessary diversion.
In the wake of the attacks that had stripped Becky of her father and temporarily of her sanity, he had made good on his promise to her grandfather to begin teaching her how to look after herself in the rough and ready world of the hunt. Months of patient theory had come down to this moment ....her first hunt. Something had been inflicting nightmares on small children in Sioux Falls; something relatively harmless, but if left unchecked, it could become more serious.
Between them, they had worked out that it had to be a monster, and eventually had come to the decision that it was a liquid shifter - a monster that could change its form at will, but was essentially a gelatinous being and thus relatively easy to handle. It was, of course, hiding in the sewers, and Sam had been hard pressed to keep Becky from charging down there without any prep at all. His insistence, however, meant that now they had a weapon - simple cooking oil, of all things, to separate the thing's molecules - and with the weather turning colder, now was the perfect time to go hunting.
Armed with her spray can, Becky squelched along dark tunnels with Sam, thrilled by the sense of safety and danger that came with her first voluntary adventure. "Ugh ....what did I step in?"
"Try not to think about it," Sam advised, knowing there were all kinds of things in the tunnels that she'd be better off not knowing about, and whatever she'd stepped in was just one of them. He didn't much want to think about them either, especially the rats. He'd almost rather have to face a half dozen demons than a couple of rats, but rats weren't what they were after today. With a flashlight in one hand and a spray can of oil in the other, Sam led the way through the tunnel in search of their prey. Though the monster they were hunting should have been fairly easy prey, Sam knew one could never be too careful as even the smallest mistake could be lethal.
"You know," she murmured, trying to keep her voice from echoing ahead of them, "you are far too comfortable down here. Is this a kink I should know about?" She flashed him an adrenaline-fueled grin in the light from the torch, just on the edge of hysterical excitement. It was one thing to read about these things; quite another thing to actively hunt them. The Men of Letters would not know what to do with her when Sam was through, and she loved it.
"Comfortable?" Sam echoed dubiously. "Hardly. The sewer is the last place I'd like to be, but these things like dark places, and you don't get much darker than this. And we should try to be quiet. We don't want this thing to know we're coming," he added, for good measure.
"It's made of goo, how does it have ears?" she asked, but she obediently shut her mouth after that. Not that doing so helped in the slightest. Barely a moment after she'd closed her mouth, a mass of said goo swarmed up the tunnel toward them, rising up in a wave that clearly intended to envelop the pair entirely. Becky, true to form, yelped and dropped her can, ducking and covering her face with her arms.
Sam might have explained that the thing didn't need to have ears, that it only needed to sense the vibration of their voices and footsteps and movement, but before he had a chance to do that, it seemed the thing had already found them.
"Becky! Light a match!" Sam shouted, as he stepped in front of her, not only to shield her from the thing, but to coat it with oil. The trick would be getting out of the way in time so that they didn't get trapped by the fireball that was likely to be caused by the flame.
Cowering behind him, Becky looked up, cringing just at the thought of being covered with that ....stuff ....heading in their direction. "Match, right," she muttered, digging into her pocket for the matches. "It's moving really fast, Sam!" And growing bigger, it seemed, the gelatinous mass expanding to fill the width of the tunnel as it accelerated toward them.
"Throw the match and run!" he shouted, emptying his can of oil and hoping it was enough. There was no time now to try and find the one she'd dropped. He was practically pushing her backwards already, in a hurry to get the hell out of there before they were covered in goop and oil and ended up going up on flames themselves.
The flame stuttered into life in her hands, flicked toward the oily disintegrating mass of whatever the hell that was. She stumbled in the ankle-deep water as Sam urged her back, pausing only long enough to see the oil ignite before letting out a loud squeal and ....attempting to outrun a fireball.
"Go, go, go!" he shouted, giving her a push in the opposite direction, just as the oil ignited with a loud whooshing sound and he felt the heat of the flames behind them. "Turn right!" he called, remembering a side passage they'd passed on their way in and hoping they could use it to take cover from the fireball that was inevitably headed their way.
She almost missed the turning, her fingertips catching the edge of the wall with just enough force to swing her off her straight line and sharply to the right. She ran straight into the painfully solid chill of a ladder - this wasn't a passage, it was an access-way, and there was only just enough room for the both of them in it with nothing peeking out to tempt the flames hard on their heels.
Sam ducked around the corner right on Becky's heels and pressed his body against hers to shield her from any flames that might manage to reach them there. The heat was almost unbearable, but there wasn't enough time to outrun the fireball; they just had to hope it burned itself out before it reached them.
She squeaked against his chest, squeezing her eyes shut as he crowded her into that small space, both hoping like hell this was not as crazy an idea as it seemed. With a roar, the fireball they had created whooshed toward them ....and sputtered out, the barest brush of flame licking the ladder at Sam's back but no further. The silence that followed was heavy, the darkness somehow darker than usual. Eventually, Becky blinked, peering over Sam's shoulder. "Is that it?"
Sam's eyes, too, were squeezed shut, and he found himself muttering a prayer to any deity that wanted to listen. He knew it was going to be a close call, but he felt the heat at his back and knew it had been almost too close. Hopefully, her grandfather would never find out just how close or they'd both get a lecture. "I think so," he replied, remaining where he was a moment longer and listening for any hint one way or the other in the main part of the tunnel.
"I think we made the sewer smell worse," she murmured, reluctantly releasing her grip on his shirt as she fished for the flashlight. They really should make sure their quarry was actually dead and gone before getting out of the acrid miasma they had created.
"Sorry," he told her. Burnt sewage never did smell very good, but neither did burnt oil or whatever that thing was they had just melted. "Stay here. I'll see if it's ....gone," he said, flicking his flashlight back on and prying himself slowly away from her to take a wary glance around the corner.