Chapter Text
Dean’s hands were slick with blood, his knife slippery even as he gripped it tightly. His breathing was a harsh, quick burn in his chest and his legs seared with pain. The landscape spread out dark and uneven before him, the crescent moon no help once the thick layer of storm clouds revealed a glimpse of it. The rain and wind beat at his body as he ran, as fast as he could through this rough terrain. The land was pockmarked by hills and dips in the coarse grass, the thorned bushes stung at his legs as he ran through them. Adrenaline washed out the pain, in his legs, in his arm, that – by some miracle – hadn’t been ripped off.
He had no idea where he was and he knew better than to run towards the tempting blue glow on the hill to his left. No humans lived here. Even though he ran nearly blindly, air burning in his lungs, Dean knew better than to stop and get his bearings. If only he could stop long enough for anything at all! Chant an exorcism, draw a trap, just breathe, but he couldn’t. He had easily taken out two of them at the ruin, the soulstone not as heavily guarded as it warranted. Or so Dean had thought. Until he had heard the howls.
The same howls that now echoed through the sky, the loud noise seemed to be projected right into Dean’s chest, making it even more tight with panic. He could not outrun hellhounds forever and he also had nothing to kill them with. The only thing he could do is run and hope to find some shelter. He had no idea where he was, just vaguely south of the Mossburg Ruins. The hill that had glimmered with the light of the ignis fatum might have been the Oakstead Mound, those fuckers loved to hang out around burial fields. But if that was Oakstead Mound then in front of him there was…
Before he could properly worry about what was ahead, Dean’s next step was met with no resistance. A swift and profound dread hammered into him in the split second it took for him to realize he was going to fall. His foot eventually hit the ground, the crack sharp but he couldn’t worry about it yet because then his body followed, slamming roughly into a steep hill. And then it was all down-hill from that.
He slammed into the ground, tumbling violently, then the sharp snap of thorny bushes licked at his skin until he finally came to a standstill. He was lying on his side, breathless both due to the shock of impact and the pain. He couldn’t even say what hurt, just that it was blinding, overriding even the adrenaline of being chased by demons and hellhounds.
He had no idea what was broken, but at least he was alive. He breathed harshly, painfully against the burn in his ribs. He opened his eyes and saw nothing but thick bushes around and above him, the flowers and leaves only offering a glimpse of the sky and the top of the hill he had come from.
Just a second. For just a second he had to breathe.
“Focus, take stock,” he told himself, pressing his lips tightly together against the pain and the horrid feeling of blood in his mouth. He could move his arms and by some dumb luck he had neither stabbed himself with his demon killing blade, nor had he lost it. It was lying just next to him. He took it, hands burning where they were cut, then slid it into the halter at his hip with a hiss of pain. Moving was awful, but at least he could move.
Without sitting up, hoping for some cover from the bushes, he pulled his bag forward and felt through it. He had no light, but he knew the contents of his bag well enough to be able to take stock by touch. He cursed. He had no demon killing bombs left and while he had plenty of graveyard dust, salt and Devil’s shoestring, making a protective circle against a hell hound out in the open when it rained and stormed, was just ridiculous. He already had lost his glasses to see hellhounds in the first scuffle back at the ruin.
And then he heard another howl.
Dean groaned and dropped his head.
“Aw, fuck,” he cursed and then he looked up through the foliage. A figure appeared on top of the hill, clearly a demon on the look-out. It would only be a matter of time for him to spot Dean. Dean clenched his fists, took a deep breath to brace himself, and then he smoothly got up and started running again. He instantly heard the demon shout in triumph but Dean had to focus all of his energy on running and not collapsing under the pain. He was pretty sure something was broken, or at least sprained. But what awaited him if he stopped running was going to be way worse.
But not long after he had started to run, he abruptly came to a stop. The ground had evened out and a couple hundred meters away was the edge of a forest. It looked dark and impenetrable right from the very edge of it. Just looking at it made Dean want to take cover and run. As Dean stared, he noticed the protective stones starting a couple of meters away from him. Row after row, getting closer to the edge of the forest, the warding and runes glowing faintly. The hair on the back of Dean’s neck stood up, as he took in this gigantic forest, which seemed to take in his entire field of vision.
The sound of the demon laughing carried through the air, clear even in the downpour.
“We got you now, Dean Winchester!” he taunted. “How do you want to die?” Dean could tell how much the demon savored this moment but he didn’t turn around, trying to think fast about his options even as the demon laid them out for him: “Do you want to be torn to shreds by hell hounds?” And now loud barking started up. There were at least three of these monsters but they hadn’t come closer yet. “Do you want to be gutted by me? I can take this pretty knife you have, gouge out your eyes first, I’ll be so gentle,” the demon yelled. “Or do you want to be eaten by monsters?”
Dean stared at the tree line. Nobody who went into the Forest of Souls ever got out, especially not humans. It was a dead end for him. And still, the surety of death made Dean cocky. He turned around and looked at the demon, far away as it still was. He grinned at him, then he raised his arm and flipped him off. He turned around and then headed towards the forest at a sprint. The demon instantly roared in anger and the hell hounds howled. Dean heard the sound of their paws hitting the hill. They’d be on him fast. But not fast enough.
He cleared the first protective sigil, feeling the magic pull at him and warning bells instinctively went off in his head. He shouldn’t be crossing over, turn around! But he couldn’t. He crossed the second line and this one would keep demons out too, but not hell hounds. So he ran further and then he was through the tree line.
Instantly all sounds of the chase fell away. It was like everything had been dulled, sound and light and the storm outside. The canopy was keeping out most of the rain. It was almost pitch black and a primal, uncontrollable horror seized him. But when he looked over his shoulder he could see the invisible shape of the hell hounds force away the grass in their paths. He had to go deeper, because hellhounds would come into the edge of the forest, until its forbidding magic became too much for them to bear as well.
So Dean kept going in deeper, panting harsh in the otherwise still air, until eventually there was an angry howl by the hellhounds. Dean slowed down and then turned around but he couldn’t even see the edge of the forest anymore. Maybe he had escaped one danger, but now he had to face what he had run into. His body hurt and yet, there was no time to rest. He had to stay alert.
The forest around him was… eerie. There was no doubt about it that this was supernatural, hostile to humans. There were only occasional drips of cold rain landing on him, most of the down pour didn’t reach him. It was very cold down here and dark, almost like all color had been drained from the world. He turned around in a circle but all he saw were trees, no identifying landmark of any kind, not even some fallen branches. He would have liked to get closer to the edge of the forest again, just to give him a greater chance at survival, but there was no way to orient himself. He knew where he had come from, vaguely at least, but he couldn’t go back. Surely, the demons and the hellhounds were waiting for him to turn tail and try to escape. No, he had to move onwards.
Despite the danger he knew he was in – after all, nobody had gotten out of this place alive – he knew he had to at least take the moment to assess his wounds and his weapons. The bite in his shoulder throbbed horribly and he’d probably have to sew it shut if he could find shelter. Right now some healing salve had to do the trick. He would ignore all the scratches on his legs and hands because while they stung the way that small cuts usually did, they weren’t dangerous. And his leg. Well… He could walk. He had an emergency splinter on him that he quickly wrapped around his throbbing ankle. He hissed at the pain when he moved it but then he straightened and gave it a nod. Good enough. Survived worse. He then changed out the weapons he had on his hip. Monsters at least he knew how to deal with. He was ready, even if it was to die.
Dean had absolutely no sense of time in this place, it just was dark and then – impossibly – got even darker. There was no point in going on if he saw absolutely nothing, so he looked for anything that would provide at least a bit shelter where he could hide for the darkest part of the night. He found a slightly hollowed out rock, not exactly a cave or even an overhang but it would have to do. He could draw sigils on the stone and then only guard his front.
He quickly drew the protective sigils that would cloak him as much as possible, because what he didn’t want was to have some monster trapping him in this spot. Making a fire was always a risk, despite the cloaking spells and all the charms he carried on him to mask himself, but Dean had to take it. He was freezing and he needed the fire to purify the water he had collected at a stream.
So far, he hadn’t encountered any monsters, but the signs of them were everywhere. He had stumbled upon corpses and bones, he had seen shadows move in the darkness, bright red eyes flashing as he looked around. And he heard them, both near and in the distance. Yet, so far nothing had tried to take a bite out of him. Dean took off his torn jacket and his shirt, revealing the gnarly bite. It definitely needed stitches, but the healing salve should at least make sure it didn’t get infected. Dean got out his first aid kit. With the needle and thread in his hand he looked at his shoulder. He couldn’t help it, he always got squeamish if he had to sew himself up. He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Come on, Dean. You’ve done this before,” he hissed at himself, then he clenched his teeth and started on it. He breathed through the pain until he was done. He instantly dropped his head, taking in shuddering breaths. After a moment, he straightened up and put his clothing back on. It was just too cold to linger. The fire was starting to burn now but still, the bleakness of the situation Dean was in seemed to seep into his bones as the sharp sting of pain slowly abated.
He pulled out the carefully wrapped soulstone from his bag. He removed the cloth and looked at it, its faint purplish glow illuminating his campsite. It was pretty to look at, but it also held great power. They had worked on their plan to retrieve it for so long and it had cost them a lot to get it. And now it would all be for nothing because Dean was going to die in this godforsaken forest. Bitter, he wrapped the soulstone up again and stashed it away. Instead, he pulled out a map and his magical compass. In the flickering light of the fire, he studied both for a long time.
He had a very vague idea of where he might be, even though the compass’ readings were most likely not reliable inside the Forest of Souls. He just had to have some hope. If his calculations were right, he could traverse the forest and get out at the location closest to home in a three day’s walk. He was very uneasy about his plans, due to the unknown terrain and the, well, monsters. But it was a plan. He checked his food, even though he knew exactly how much he had packed, and carefully rationed it out. There was no telling if there was even food to be found in here that Dean could eat. Probably not.
He took out some of his bread, unwrapping the cloth around it. He put the cloth on the ground and then ate, slowly, very focused. He couldn’t let his thoughts stray too much or else the situation might become unbearable. So he went over his plans again and again and also thought about what would happen once he took the soulstone back home.
A movement behind the fire made Dean look up from his map. He reached for his silver blade, then stared at the spot where he had seen the movement. There wasn’t a lot of undergrowth here, giving Dean a clear view of anything. And yet, whatever was moving was difficult to spot. All Dean could tell was that it seemed to be coming closer, very slowly, and not in a straight path at all. It actually looked like a shadow, floating almost and Dean quickly looked up in case it was a shadow, even though that seemed unlikely. There was nothing up in the trees that he could see.
When he looked back down, he found that it was at the barrier.
Dean was at a loss. It was quite small, maybe the size of Dean’s palm and it mostly looked like… well. Dean couldn’t quite say. A bit of smoke that elongated as it moved. Currently, it was gliding along the warding, following the semi-circle dean had drawn. Back and forth, back and forth. It didn’t look at Dean, if it even could look. It only seemed to be interested in the warding. This gave Dean another chance to observe it. It did seem to be like a little dark cloud. It had a form, but it wasn’t solid. Even as his curiosity was piqued – he’d never seen a creature like this! – he watched with bated breath, the knife still in his hand.
And then suddenly the thing crossed over the warding line, without any hesitation. Quickly, it approached Dean’s side, somehow got a hold of the cloth that had held his bread and pulled it close. It moved across the cloth and once it solidified again into some sort of cloud, the crumbs were gone. Dean stared at it.
Was it a… scavenger?
It still wasn’t interested in Dean, but it gave Dean the impression that it was sitting down now, a little cloudy loaf sitting on Dean’s bread cloth.
Dean wasn’t sure what to do, torn between fear and curiosity. This was the Forest of Souls and anything in here could kill him, even if it was tiny. Especially if it could cross his heavy-duty warding!
“What are you,” Dean asked, studying it. He wiped the crumbs on his thighs to the ground and the creature seemed to perk up. It darted forwards and cleaned them up, retreating back to sit on the cloth. “You’re kinda… Gooey looking. And you scavenge. Scavenge Goo. Scavengoo, yeah, that’s it. That’s what you are,” Dean said, proud of his naming. It was stupid. Just a bit of entertainment with a potentially soul eating creature before he was going to die.
Dean picked a pebble up from the ground and threw it at the Scavengoo to make it scram. To his surprise it promptly dissolved, its shape fanning out. But it reformed quickly and scuttled past the barrier. The thing didn’t really have a face, but still it seemed to rise up slightly, “looking” at Dean in what he assumed to be a reproachful way.
“Don’t look at me like that. If you haven’t realized, I’m a human in a forest full of monsters that can kill me. No hard feelings but I don’t want you to eat my face off,” Dean said, even though he was pretty sure that the Scavengoo didn’t particularly care about his justifications.
Dean watched it become somewhat more solid and less see through and eventually a part of its body split apart from the cloud, looking almost like a little leg that had a claw.
“Shit,” Dean thought to himself. But instead of the Scavengoo turning to skin Dean alive with its little claw, it turned its new appendage towards the ground. It started drawing something into the earth. Dean didn’t understand what it was doing, until it moved on and Dean noticed a rune next to the warding Dean had drawn.
Panic seized him. That thing could work runes?! Was it going to break Dean’s spells?! Dean was up on his feet, ready to try his arsenal of weapons on the thing when he noticed just what kind of things it was scribbling into the ground. He knew those runes and sigils. And they were for protection and against detection, not unlike what Dean had drawn himself, just arranged in an utterly bizarre way.
Dean watched the Scavengoo work until the line was finished. The runes started glowing, then a flash of light burned through the line. Dean knew enough magic to be able to tell that this was definitely a protective circle, one that built upon what Dean had already established, just making it way more powerful.
“You’re a magic Scavengoo!” Dean said, startled by the realization. No monster he knew was able to use magic, not like this…! As he watched the Scavengoo two bright blue slits appeared in what seemed to be its head. Those must be its eyes and they were squinty. It oddly reminded Dean of a disgruntled, little kitten, but for some reason he got the very distinct impression that it was feeling smug. Dean’s shoulders dropped, the absurdity of the situation making him chuckle breathlessly.
“Show off,” he told it, then he frowned, looking at it some more. “But what are you? Why are you helping? Are you even helping?”
The sound of a monster, far too close for comfort, crashed through the otherwise silent forest and Dean instantly pressed himself against the rock, away from the circle.
The Scavengoo seemed to fluff up, flattening its oblong shape to a sort of fluffy ball. It almost seemed like it had fur or feathers, which gave a more distinct shape to the swirling cloud. But before Dean could examine it further, it darted off.
Of course it did, Dean would run too if he could, but sadly he was a human, not just a little monster cloud. Dean gave the runes another look, but firmly remained as far away from the barrier as he could. He couldn’t see the monster that had made the noise, but he could hear the snap of twigs and rustling as it moved somewhere in the forest. Far too close. Dean just had to hope that the sigils would last.
Dean woke with a grunt.
Disoriented and body burning with pain and exhaustion, he blinked a couple of times. Everything around him was grey and it smelled of cold ash. Where…?
Like a cold shower, the realization of just where he was, chased away the last lingering remnants of sleepiness.
He was in the Forest of Souls and he somehow survived through the night. The fire had gone out but beyond that were the two lines of warding, undisturbed. There was no sign that anything had tried coming close. Dean looked around. It was daylight now, but it didn’t make the forest look any friendlier. It really seemed so gray, not just the landscape, Dean himself felt drained of color. If he could even feel that way. It was hard to describe.
He took the time to put more salve on his shoulder, then he consulted his map and compass again, even though he had the tentative route memorized. He repacked his bag and then put all his weapons in place. He took a sip of his water and poured some into his palm, to wipe it over his face.
“Okay,” he muttered, voice sounding hoarse. He got up and then stared out into the forest. He took a deep breath and then he crossed over the warding. He stood there for one tense moment, listening and looking around, expecting to be attacked right away, but the forest remained silent.
“Here goes nothing,” Dean said, then he started his journey, going at a light jog, no matter how much his leg hurt. He had no time to waste.
He wasn’t sure how long he was walking, focused entirely on not being eaten, stopping at every sound that seemed too close, waiting without breathing. He must have made it maybe for two or three hours when he came upon his first monster. One moment Dean was jogging through the forest, winding his way through the trees and the next he was viciously tackled to the ground.
He had no time to catch his breath, instead he instinctively pushed at his attacker’s chest, keeping a potential fanged mouth away from his neck and then he swung his other hand until he felt the satisfying sensation of his knife sinking into the creature’s side. It yelled in protest and then scrambled off enough for Dean to pull the knife free and put some space between him and his attacker.
The creature hissed at him, teeth bared and Dean minutely relaxed. It was just a vampire, human looking, not something ancient that Purgatory had spat out into their world.
“Alright, I can deal with you,” Dean told the vamp, quickly switching out his silver knife to a machete. The vampire didn’t waste any time in attacking again but Dean knew how to fight. He was able to chop off the thing’s head without a problem, but the movement hurt like hell. His whole body was on fire and that had just been one vampire.
“Shit,” Dean said, nearly dropping the machete once the immediate danger had passed. He sucked in deep breaths through his open mouth, even though it hurt. But then there was the sound of running footsteps. Dean looked up immediately and saw five more vamps jump out from behind the trees, their teeth bared.
Dean was a good hunter, one of the best even. But he was hurt, this was unknown terrain and there were five of them. He was a good enough hunter to know that he was in deep trouble. So he wasted no time and started running.
He heard the vampires yell and hiss before they started their pursuit. And there was nothing elegant about his escape, the noise sure to rouse the attention of other things in this forest. Things that might be way more vicious and way more hungry than a group of vampires. He didn’t know how long he could run, everything hurt too much to bear but he couldn’t stop.
Until his luck ran out and he ran straight into another group of monsters, cutting off his path. Quickly, he found himself cornered. His heart was hammering, adrenaline and fear rushing through him. He lifted his machete and the other hand grabbed his silver knife. If he had to go down, then he’d take some of them with him.
But as the monsters moved in, teeth bared and claws outstretched, suddenly all of them stopped. Dean wasn’t sure what happened at first, but then he became aware of a new noise appearing. A sort of high ringing noise, but there was something else, almost like wind blowing through the leaves even though none of the leaves moved.
Whatever it was, the monsters all stared in one direction and then quickly scrambled, leaving Dean alone. Dean had absolutely no idea what was going on, but once he faced in the same direction, the noise abruptly ended and the usual hush returned to the forest, only broken up by the sound of the retreating monsters.
He squinted in the distance, trying to see and then – movement. Something was moving through the trees, something bigger, long, its movements fluid in a way that reminded Dean of how tall grass swayed in the wind. It seemed to come closer and finally Dean could see what it was. Black, but not quite solid, its form longish.
And all Dean could think, with his heart dropping into his pants, was “oh shit.”
There was only one creature that Dean could think of that would scare everything else in the Forest of Souls away and that was a Leviathan.
No way was Dean going to be eaten up by this thing. He ran, blindly, away from the monster, as fast as he could.
He ran until he had absolutely no idea where he was and even though he had to move on, his legs simply collapsed under him and he fell hard onto the ground. He groaned, exhausted but too afraid to give in and remain down. He forced himself to sit back up and look where he was. Just a clearing, close to a stream. A horribly exposed place, but Dean didn’t think he could go another step. So he pulled out his tools and started etching runes into the ground, copying what the Scavengoo had drawn yesterday. Once he saw the magic of the warding flash and settle, he promptly passed out.