You close the door of your car, a black 1966 Ford Mustang, as quietly as possible, aware of the fact that about 30 meters from you there is a nest with around a dozen of vamps inside. After you put your gun in the waistband of your jeans, you take your machete from the trunk and start walking towards the so called ' abandoned' building in front of you.
Before you even reach the door though, you hear a loud thump from inside, and then a couple of shouts and thudding. You put your hand on the doorknob opening it slowly, using the noise from behind as a cover.
It takes some moments for your eyes to adjust to the darkness that covers the room, but as they do, you realise you're in a hallway, not faraway from a dead vamp with a chopped head. Your fingers, unconsciously, wrap around the machete more tightly, preparing yourself for anything that's coming, as you start walking down the hallway.
"Sam!" A manly, gruff voice shouts with angst as you hear another loud thud coming from deeper in the building. By that time, you have reached a wide room that looks kinda like a waiting room which has several doors. You start from the one on your left, opening carefully as to not make a sound and drive any attention.
"D-dean" you here another, but weak and unsteady this time voice, before it gets quiet.
Your eyes open wide and you freeze in your position, with your hand still in the doorknob. Sam. Dean. Fucking Winchesters. You can't believe that you actually meet with them again. Well, not yet, but still, they are there. You're gonna see them sooner or later.
You take a deep breath and open the door, checking the room clean, before you go to another one. By that time, you hear a voice -Dean's voice- leaving a cry of pain, and then a loud bang, of something hitting the floor.
Your breath is starting to become more sporadic and shallow, as panic start washing over you, and you speed up your moves, trying to find out where the voice is coming from. When you open the third door, it takes a second to realise that two vamps are standing there looking at you, ready to attack you. You get down and slide on the marble floor to avoid their grab and quickly get up, turn around and behead the female one.
The other vamp, looks at you with surprise for a moment, and then with pure hatred, before he turn around and punch you in the face. You take step back and lean behind with a quick move, to doge the punch, but you trip on another dead body, falling down and hitting your head on the floor.
You blink sometimes, to wash away the dizziness and your hand starts searching for the machete which by now has left your hand. Once you raise your head and spot your weapon about 4 ft from you, a hand wraps around your neck, hitting your head back on the floor, keeping you there. He gets on top of you and start squeezing his hand, making it impossible for you to breathe. You stretch your leg trying, desparately, to find the blade with your foot.
You're face is starting worryingly red, as you try with your hands to loose the palm around your breathing tunes. Another seconds pass by, before you feel the machete under your right foot. In no time, you drag up towards you, and eith your right hand leaving your attackers wrist, you catch it, raise it up, and cut his head.
The blood sprays all over your face, and the body falls on you. With a strong move, you push him away from you, coughing, trying desperately take some so well missed oxygen. After some angsty deep breaths you manage to get up. You wipe out the blood on your sleeve, making a face of disguss, before you turn and look around the room.
The first scene you took in though, between the chaos, is a guy leaning on the floor, wearing a flannel jacket with a tight dark grey t-shirt inside, dirty and stained from blood. Dean.
"Shit" you cry out before falling on your knees next to him, reaching for his neck to check out his pulse, freaking out when you don't find any. Your trembling hands reach out for the edge of his tshirt and lift it up, face cringing at the sight of the gash at his left side. You study the wound for a moment trying to decide if it's serious enough to cause the lack of pulse. You shake your head and leave his shirt returning to his face, noticing for the first time that his hair are wet and there are water drops all over his face, some water having soaked the collars of his shirts.
