Fic: Uncharted Territories (1/14) (SPN, Gen)
Title: Uncharted Territories
Rating: PG-13/T
Notes: Set post Season 7 finale for SPN. Don't read if you haven't seen it and don't want to be spoiled for said events. Unbetaed; all mistakes belong to me.
Summary: Now that Dick Roman is dead, Dean, Sam, and Cas have a whole new set of problems to deal with. Their fight to stay alive in uncertain circumstances begins... now.
Chapter One: Disturbia
Chapter Word Count: 1,471
The eerie environment of Purgatory was starting to set Dean on edge, especially now that he was essentially alone. Oh, he knew that Castiel had to be somewhere nearby, but at the moment, Dean honestly wished that the angel, regardless of how messed up he might still be, was at his back. Dean could see the glint of red eyes in the shadows, and could hear ominous rustling in the underbrush nearby. Feeling increasingly uneasy, Dean did a mental check of all the weapons he had on him, keeping an eye on his surroundings as he did so. He had several knives on him, including one tucked into the small of his back, right near his handgun. He'd have to conserve his bullets, especially since he didn't know how long he'd have to survive here in the perpetually gloomy environs of Purgatory.
Dean carefully withdrew a knife from its sheath, slipping his hand through the wrist-strap so he wouldn't loose it as easily in a fight if it were to be knocked from his hand. A loud growl from his left drew Dean's attention immediately, and he readied himself for a fight, drawing in a deep breath and taking up a relaxed fighting stance. There was the sound of heavy footfalls, and then a large black shape was bounding toward him, its deep set eyes burning a deep coal red. Dean braced himself to join in the fight, knife at the ready. The shadow creature lashed out with one heavily clawed fore-paw, making Dean jump back while slashing the knife at the creature. He managed to score a shallow hit on the creature; the silver-engraved blade left an angry wound across its chest that bled black ichor.
The two combatants circled one another, the creature letting out a constant low rumbling growl and Dean breathing harshly as adrenaline rushed through his veins. A rush of wings from behind Dean announced Castiel's return, or at least, that's what the hunter assumed. He stayed focused on his battle, trying to judge the best time to strike. The shadow beast took the initiative and closed the distance between itself and Dean, dashing forward and throwing up great clods of dirt and dark grass as it went.
“GET DOWN!” roared an unknown voice from behind Dean. The authoritative tones hit a chord in Dean's brain that had been honed over years of Hunting with his dad, causing him to jerk to the side and then throw himself to the ground. He instinctively buried his face against his arm, and just in time, too. There was a brilliant flash of light and a roar of sound that left Dean's ears ringing. Dean only registered the fact that Castiel had returned when he felt the angel put a hand on his shoulder and heard his low, gravelly voice speaking into his left ear.
“Dean, can you hear me?” Castiel asked gravely. Dean groaned softly in response and then rolled over, blinking up at his friend.
“Wha' happened?” Dean mumbled as he waited for his hearing to return to normal.
“I'm not sure,” Castiel replied, looking over his shoulder at something Dean couldn't see. Dean carefully pushed himself up to a sitting position to see what had happened to the creatures that had been ready to kill him. The clearing was devoid of any of the shadow creatures, but Castiel and Dean weren't the only beings there. A group of five people stood nearby, all of whom where heavily armed. To Dean's surprise, he could see that three of them had wings; one had dark blue wings like a blue jay, the second, and the only female of the three, had gray wings with black tips, and the third, a tall black-haired man who seemed to be the leader of the group, had dark red wings that were tucked neatly against his back. The remaining members of the group looked like normal humans, though Dean had long learned that appearances could be deceiving, especially in a place like this.
“The hell? Who're they?”
“We're the ones who saved your sorry asses,” the red-winged man replied as he strode forward, one hand on the pommel of the sheathed sword Dean hadn't really taken notice of before.
“Devonal, be nice” the gray-winged woman snapped, looking annoyed. “We can't stay here long; they'll be back soon, and you know it.”
Devonal sighed and then shrugged. “Oh, all right, Meriel,” He turned his attention to Dean and Castiel, who were watching the group warily. “You two, come with us. We'll explain more when we're somewhere safe. Stay with the group; you don't want to be caught by the shadow-kin when they decide to regroup.”
“Hold on,” Dean said, carefully getting to his feet with Castiel's help. “We're not going anywhere with you until we know who you guys are and what's going on.”
“We don't have much time to explain,” Meriel said. “If it helps, my name is Meriel, and, whether you believe it or not, we're probably the only allies you'll meet here.”
Castiel tilted his head briefly to one side, his brow furrowing a little before speaking.
“You were an angel of the Lord?”
“Still am, brother of mine,” Meriel replied. “Well, technically, anyways. We're stuck here until the Father decides to bring us back. There's maybe two, two-hundred-and-fifty of us here at the moment.” She glanced at Dean. “Satisfied? Can we head out now?”
“Where are we going?” Dean asked as the group set off into the forest.
“To the Haven,” Devonal said shortly. “Quiet; we don't want to attract any more attention than we already have, and it doesn't help that your soul's shining so brightly, kid.”
“What?”
Devonal didn't say any more on the subject, even though Dean tried to ask him several times what he had meant, and the ragtag group continued deeper into the forest; as they moved, Dean and Castiel found themselves firmly ensconced in the center of the group. Dean kept his knife handy, not wanting to disarm himself even though he was surrounded by heavily armed allies. He did, however, wipe the ichor off the knife with a convenient broad leaf he took off a plant in passing. They walked in silence for roughly fifteen minutes or so, if Dean was to be any judge, but given the gloomy atmosphere surrounding them and the fact that he couldn't see the sky-- if there was a sky in Purgatory --his calculations could be totally off and he wouldn't even know. Still, his internal clock usually served him well, so for the moment, he would rely on it until he learned otherwise.
Dean sighed softly as he trudged through the underbrush, catching Castiel's attention. The angel moved closer to him, edging close enough to brush his shoulder against Dean's in a silent motion of solidarity. With a slight smile, Dean returned the gesture and kept walking. At least he didn't have to go through this alone. It was a small comfort, but one he'd take nonetheless. Devonal led the group into a clearing that looked no different than the half-dozen others they'd passed through on their journey, save for the fact that it had a large boulder in the center.
The great stone was at least twice as tall as Dean, and entirely covered in Enochian symbols engraved right into the living rock. Devonal made his way forward and, after cutting his left hand with a silver dagger, placed his bloody palm against a particular symbol. It glowed brightly for a few seconds and then faded, as did the stark red palm-print. An archway appeared in the boulder, and Devonal stepped through it, disappearing down a smoothly paved pathway that wound downward and out of sight. With slight trepidation, Dean followed him, Castiel at his side. After the last member of the group passed through the archway, it disappeared as silently and quickly as it had appeared, sealing them inside.
Glass globes lined the arched stone walls, giving off a constant golden light that illuminated the path as it continued downwards in a gentle slope. Three times the party passed through portions of the hall that had Enochian runes engraved on the walls and floor; Castiel quietly explained to Dean that they were travel gates that shortened the distance needed to travel between one place and another, which made Dean wonder just how far they had traveled. Eventually, the path leveled out and then, after a few hundred yards, opened up onto a broad ledge in a vast cavern. Meriel stopped in front of the railing that separated her from a sharp drop to the cavern floor.
“Welcome,” she said, directing a grin at Dean and Castiel, “to the Haven.”
Rating: PG-13/T
Notes: Set post Season 7 finale for SPN. Don't read if you haven't seen it and don't want to be spoiled for said events. Unbetaed; all mistakes belong to me.
Summary: Now that Dick Roman is dead, Dean, Sam, and Cas have a whole new set of problems to deal with. Their fight to stay alive in uncertain circumstances begins... now.
Chapter One: Disturbia
Chapter Word Count: 1,471
The eerie environment of Purgatory was starting to set Dean on edge, especially now that he was essentially alone. Oh, he knew that Castiel had to be somewhere nearby, but at the moment, Dean honestly wished that the angel, regardless of how messed up he might still be, was at his back. Dean could see the glint of red eyes in the shadows, and could hear ominous rustling in the underbrush nearby. Feeling increasingly uneasy, Dean did a mental check of all the weapons he had on him, keeping an eye on his surroundings as he did so. He had several knives on him, including one tucked into the small of his back, right near his handgun. He'd have to conserve his bullets, especially since he didn't know how long he'd have to survive here in the perpetually gloomy environs of Purgatory.
Dean carefully withdrew a knife from its sheath, slipping his hand through the wrist-strap so he wouldn't loose it as easily in a fight if it were to be knocked from his hand. A loud growl from his left drew Dean's attention immediately, and he readied himself for a fight, drawing in a deep breath and taking up a relaxed fighting stance. There was the sound of heavy footfalls, and then a large black shape was bounding toward him, its deep set eyes burning a deep coal red. Dean braced himself to join in the fight, knife at the ready. The shadow creature lashed out with one heavily clawed fore-paw, making Dean jump back while slashing the knife at the creature. He managed to score a shallow hit on the creature; the silver-engraved blade left an angry wound across its chest that bled black ichor.
The two combatants circled one another, the creature letting out a constant low rumbling growl and Dean breathing harshly as adrenaline rushed through his veins. A rush of wings from behind Dean announced Castiel's return, or at least, that's what the hunter assumed. He stayed focused on his battle, trying to judge the best time to strike. The shadow beast took the initiative and closed the distance between itself and Dean, dashing forward and throwing up great clods of dirt and dark grass as it went.
“GET DOWN!” roared an unknown voice from behind Dean. The authoritative tones hit a chord in Dean's brain that had been honed over years of Hunting with his dad, causing him to jerk to the side and then throw himself to the ground. He instinctively buried his face against his arm, and just in time, too. There was a brilliant flash of light and a roar of sound that left Dean's ears ringing. Dean only registered the fact that Castiel had returned when he felt the angel put a hand on his shoulder and heard his low, gravelly voice speaking into his left ear.
“Dean, can you hear me?” Castiel asked gravely. Dean groaned softly in response and then rolled over, blinking up at his friend.
“Wha' happened?” Dean mumbled as he waited for his hearing to return to normal.
“I'm not sure,” Castiel replied, looking over his shoulder at something Dean couldn't see. Dean carefully pushed himself up to a sitting position to see what had happened to the creatures that had been ready to kill him. The clearing was devoid of any of the shadow creatures, but Castiel and Dean weren't the only beings there. A group of five people stood nearby, all of whom where heavily armed. To Dean's surprise, he could see that three of them had wings; one had dark blue wings like a blue jay, the second, and the only female of the three, had gray wings with black tips, and the third, a tall black-haired man who seemed to be the leader of the group, had dark red wings that were tucked neatly against his back. The remaining members of the group looked like normal humans, though Dean had long learned that appearances could be deceiving, especially in a place like this.
“The hell? Who're they?”
“We're the ones who saved your sorry asses,” the red-winged man replied as he strode forward, one hand on the pommel of the sheathed sword Dean hadn't really taken notice of before.
“Devonal, be nice” the gray-winged woman snapped, looking annoyed. “We can't stay here long; they'll be back soon, and you know it.”
Devonal sighed and then shrugged. “Oh, all right, Meriel,” He turned his attention to Dean and Castiel, who were watching the group warily. “You two, come with us. We'll explain more when we're somewhere safe. Stay with the group; you don't want to be caught by the shadow-kin when they decide to regroup.”
“Hold on,” Dean said, carefully getting to his feet with Castiel's help. “We're not going anywhere with you until we know who you guys are and what's going on.”
“We don't have much time to explain,” Meriel said. “If it helps, my name is Meriel, and, whether you believe it or not, we're probably the only allies you'll meet here.”
Castiel tilted his head briefly to one side, his brow furrowing a little before speaking.
“You were an angel of the Lord?”
“Still am, brother of mine,” Meriel replied. “Well, technically, anyways. We're stuck here until the Father decides to bring us back. There's maybe two, two-hundred-and-fifty of us here at the moment.” She glanced at Dean. “Satisfied? Can we head out now?”
“Where are we going?” Dean asked as the group set off into the forest.
“To the Haven,” Devonal said shortly. “Quiet; we don't want to attract any more attention than we already have, and it doesn't help that your soul's shining so brightly, kid.”
“What?”
Devonal didn't say any more on the subject, even though Dean tried to ask him several times what he had meant, and the ragtag group continued deeper into the forest; as they moved, Dean and Castiel found themselves firmly ensconced in the center of the group. Dean kept his knife handy, not wanting to disarm himself even though he was surrounded by heavily armed allies. He did, however, wipe the ichor off the knife with a convenient broad leaf he took off a plant in passing. They walked in silence for roughly fifteen minutes or so, if Dean was to be any judge, but given the gloomy atmosphere surrounding them and the fact that he couldn't see the sky-- if there was a sky in Purgatory --his calculations could be totally off and he wouldn't even know. Still, his internal clock usually served him well, so for the moment, he would rely on it until he learned otherwise.
Dean sighed softly as he trudged through the underbrush, catching Castiel's attention. The angel moved closer to him, edging close enough to brush his shoulder against Dean's in a silent motion of solidarity. With a slight smile, Dean returned the gesture and kept walking. At least he didn't have to go through this alone. It was a small comfort, but one he'd take nonetheless. Devonal led the group into a clearing that looked no different than the half-dozen others they'd passed through on their journey, save for the fact that it had a large boulder in the center.
The great stone was at least twice as tall as Dean, and entirely covered in Enochian symbols engraved right into the living rock. Devonal made his way forward and, after cutting his left hand with a silver dagger, placed his bloody palm against a particular symbol. It glowed brightly for a few seconds and then faded, as did the stark red palm-print. An archway appeared in the boulder, and Devonal stepped through it, disappearing down a smoothly paved pathway that wound downward and out of sight. With slight trepidation, Dean followed him, Castiel at his side. After the last member of the group passed through the archway, it disappeared as silently and quickly as it had appeared, sealing them inside.
Glass globes lined the arched stone walls, giving off a constant golden light that illuminated the path as it continued downwards in a gentle slope. Three times the party passed through portions of the hall that had Enochian runes engraved on the walls and floor; Castiel quietly explained to Dean that they were travel gates that shortened the distance needed to travel between one place and another, which made Dean wonder just how far they had traveled. Eventually, the path leveled out and then, after a few hundred yards, opened up onto a broad ledge in a vast cavern. Meriel stopped in front of the railing that separated her from a sharp drop to the cavern floor.
“Welcome,” she said, directing a grin at Dean and Castiel, “to the Haven.”