5The stench of the sewage is overwhelming and it takes all of Dean's will to push nausea down and keep his head on task. The kids walking beside him don't seem as bothered, whether it's the determination to find their missing friend that's driving them or the fear they manage not to show, Dean doesn't know. He's only grateful things are going as smoothly as they do, given the circumstances.
He's not naive enough to believe it'll stay this nice and uneventful. The very fact he's dragging literal pre-teens with him to the hunt is enough to keep him on edge. He's trying really hard not to think what that makes him — who that make him.
But it is the only way.
So did the kids say, so did his and Cas's research confirm. The children-eating monster clown will not come for a pair of adults. It won't even show. 'Cause, after all, it's easier to terrorize the young ones when no adults believe them.
And it's the children's fear it wants; all those innocent, intense emotions stored in their small bodies and evolving brains, new and overwhelming.
So they had to take the kids, despite Dean's initial protests. It was the better option, anyway. As brave — or as reckless — as they come, Juliet and Tom planned to take on the monster on their own, with their baseball bats and a gun stolen from Tom's dad's safe.
Dean nearly burst at the seams when they informed him about their genius clown-killing strategy. This way, he can at least protect them. Or die trying.
"We should split," Cas announces, still green on his face, standing at the fork in the tunnels, shining light into each path, in turns.
Of the four of them, he's taking the odor the hardest. Dean can't blame him: he's still getting used to the new, sharp human senses since Metatron took his grace. At first, Dean even worried the whole action would be a no-go and they'd have to retire Cas and take the very, very reluctant Sam on this doubtful adventure instead. Luckily — for Sam, mostly — he got better after he let his entire breakfast and lunch out, right at the entrance.
Dean shakes his head. "I know you haven't seen enough horrors to know that splitting up is the worst possible op—"
"Shush!" Tom lifts a palm to shut him up and leans toward the right leg of the tunnel. "Heard that? I think it's coming—"
"From there!" Juliet finishes for him. Except, she points straight ahead.
They look at one another with consternation. This has to be a trick of the sound ricocheting in the underground maze. Or a trick of the monster, plotting to divide and conquer. And eat.
"Well, I didn't hear anything, but—" Dean lets out a resigned sigh "—we probably should split. Jules goes with me," he decides, having a terrible feeling about this whole deal. "Tom, with Cas. Just keep an eye on him."
"Yes, sir," Tom blurts out before Cas can open his mouth and has to settle for sending Dean an offended glance, instead.
Dean replies with a wide grin and moves to giving the instructions: don't spare the spray paint, call the other two as soon as you got the twenty on the clown, if you lose the adult — run. If the adult is hurt — don't look back and run.
Then they split.
And if Dean's stomach turns, it has little to do with the fetor of surrounding waste.
They keep quiet as they tread down the empty shaft, listening in for any noises or calls reaching their ears from the distance, but nothing comes for a long time. As they choose each twist and turn in the path, the rumble of the ball inside the spray can seems is the only thing breaking the unnatural silence.
"So," Dean tries, barely over a whisper, "you've seen this clown-thing, yeah?"
Juliet shrugs. "I wish it looked like a clown when it came to me." There's too much weight in her voice for her age. "I don't know how but it knows the fears you'd never admit to anyone."
Dean lets out a soft murmur of understanding. The kids might be tough, but the deepest fear incarnate could break even the biggest, toughest veteran.
"We're gonna kick its ass," he ensures her with a soft, encouraging smile.
But before he can say anything else, a scream echoes across the tunnels. Though distorted, Dean recognizes the voice right away. Cas.
One glance at each other and they make a run for it, back the same way they came, watching the signs they left behind, then the signs sprayed with Tom's hand.
Dean can't ease the pounding in his chest, only getting harder the deeper the path leads, with each turn that doesn't lead to an answer. Except for the cries, getting louder and louder. Until they finally spill out into a chamber, tall and wide, seeming nearly endless after the claustrophobic tunnels.
In its middle, there's Cas, kneeling with his back to them, curled over something, someone—
"No—" rips out of Dean's throat, 'til the beam from his flashlight catches a movement a few feet beside him, a small, crouching figure.
He's fine, Tom's fine.
What then—
"Cas?"
Cas's head shoots up to the sound and he turns, hand grabbing for the flashlight—no, for the gun.
"Cas, it's me, Dean! What's going on?"
Dean shines the light on his own face to prove it's him, not some ghoulish nightmare, then back to Cas's to find recognition in his eyes. And tears.
"Dean," the word rolls out of Cas's mouth nearly breathless, as he rises to his feet, the weapon still in his palm, though hanging loosely at his side. "You're okay."
"Sure I am, why wouldn't I be?"
That's when Deam sees it, on the edge of the light. His own face, his own body, lying on the ground. Dead. A bullet wound right in the middle of his forehead.
It's hardly the first time Dean sees himself killed. It's the quivering of Cas's shoulders, his bloodied palms that shake him. All those brand new emotions that came with the all must have been good as children's, if not better, for the monster.
The monster who found Cas's deepest fear.
And then its eyes shoot open.
"Watch out!" Dean shouts, but Cas isn't quick enough.
Yanked by the ankle, he falls to the ground.
Behind him, what used to be Dean's face has turned pale and long, a caricature of a clown, with a wide, wide grin and so many teeth. Then laughter, a piercing, chilling laughter fills the chamber.
"You're not a kid...I don't know what you are, but you're delicious!" the monster giggles, prolonging the last word in the most disgusting way possible. "I'm gonna—"
The hit of Dean's bullet successively shuts the thing up, but seems to make no damage beside that. The monster shoots Dean a scolding look and flees the scene.
Dean allows him a head-start, though just for a moment. He rushes to help Cas up, first.
"Cas, you alright?" he asks, assessing him and is relieved to find no wounds or a broken nose.
"Dean, I'm so glad, I—I could swear—" Cas blurts out, instead of an answer, his voice trembling. "I was certain it wasn't you, that it was that thing so I—" he looks at the blood on his hands, at the gun at his knees, but Dean's already got the whole story. Still, he lets him get it all out. "And then you—it didn't get up or change or anything for so long…and I no longer knew. I thought it was you and I k—"
His voice breaks at that. He takes slow breaths, trying to calm down as Dean rubs comforting circles into his back. It hasn't been long since that night in the crypt: a similar scenario, except then Cas wielded a blade and his mighty fists instead of a gun. Except that was Dean, real Dean, on the receiving end.
"I'm here, Cas. I'm okay," Dean coos, "you were right. You were right."
They don't have much time if they want to catch the monster today. They only take another second or two for Cas to ease his shaking and wipe his face. Dean can give him all the comfort he needs once they're done with the fucker.
He sneaks a quick kiss to Cas's temple as he hands him his gun.
"Alright, kids," he announces, "here's the new plan."