Hunteri Heroici

First reel, first blood

Panting echoed around the large dripping room as a figure tore through.

They were not having a good day. Week? Month? Who knows how long they'd been in this damned monochrome hell! Right now, their only concern was the large lumbering thing that was gaining behind them, heh, as if that really mattered here. Now the thunderous roar was more an annoyance than anything else - death was meaningless here.
Fumbling with the old film reel, they readied it for the machine. The peeling label stating the end just barely visible through the smeared inky handprint that may have once had all five digits, but that hadn't been the case for some 'time'. The hidden golden lettering they knew all too well still read, as it always did, THIS IS NOT just above the visible label. When they had first seen this was when the 'memories' came flooding back, they weren't ashamed to say they had cried at this discovery. As they slammed the reel in the slot, they allowed themself to release the breath they were holding - more a habit than a necessity – as the various screens around the room lit up.

As the creature screeched, its large fore limbs trying desperately to shield the area between its neck and horns while its back limbs swung uselessly, as the words 'The End' flashed on all the screens from the various episodes of the beast's uncorrupted form. As the creature seemingly burned at the light of the screens, the room began to fade away.

~ * * * ~

The small two bedded room was dirtier than everyone around town had made it seem, although the faded, peeling lettering outside the building was, the two reflected, probably a good indicator of the motel's current state. It was a wonder it hadn't been closed already with its mould population being the most varied in the state for miles around; the curtains - which had not previously existed had been taken from a different manky motel the two visited - this wouldn't have been a problem if it weren't for their occupation, making it best to be safe rather than sorry. There was also the 'curious' smell and dark patches that stained the wall from floor to ceiling in an impressive variation in freshness, the two men standing in the rooms' centre knew exactly what it was. All in all, this had not been the worst place the two men had stayed. If the windows were still without curtains an onlooker may have even called them brothers.

Brothers being exactly what they were, standing shoulder to shoulder - although the height difference made it shoulder to chest– in the crappy motel room they would be staying. Both constantly wore at least one flannel shirt in most of their day to day lives unless a case called for a more business approach, rather than their preferred slash and shoot style. Today was not one of these days. The older brother, who much to his annoyance was the shorter, gracelessly flopped onto one of the musty beds, bored out of his skull, running a hand through his close-cropped hair. The younger smirked at this, huffing out a laugh that could have been mistaken for a sigh by design, closed the door. Both were heavily scarred but hid it well, with an identical tattoo of a pentagram surrounded in flame on their chests. An anti-possession sygil. This was a typical addition that anyone who truly knew all that went bump in the night had, as it was one of the few defences against demonic possession-not entirely full proof, but it did its job. The younger of the two walked over to the small table nearest the window, sat down, took out a battered laptop and opened it up. Tap tap tapping was the only sound to be heard in the sparsely furnished ro-

"Give it a rest Sam, whatever this thing is's waited this long a few hours won't change anything," The man on the bed called to the other - Sam "besides sleeping beauty needs her rest" He grumbled chucking a well-aimed pillow at his brothers 'head.

"Dean you're the one that wanted us to look into this, there's clearly bigger problems than some creepy, old studio" Sam replied, as the light from his laptop lit up the area around him, much to his brothers' annoyance.

"Look we needa break from all this crap and I think a simple, routine ghost-bustin' is what we need right now, so shut up and get some sleep we'll look into it tomorrow" Dean shot back, no more heat to it than a warm pillow on a cold night.
Sam, sighing, closed his computer clearly sensing nothing, but a lost battle and a bitchy brother was to be gained from pushing the matter any further. With a more internal sigh this time he turned out the light and crawled under the scratchy, uncomfortable blanket and, slowly but surely, fell a sleep.

The Winchesters were in town and were in for more than they bargained for, they just don't know it yet.