The Unexpected (A SuperWhoLock Fanfiction)

Fifteen: Dead Silence

Fifteen: Dead Silence

One, two....

Three, four, five.... Five dead Wendigo carcasses on the ground, charred and blackened. Sherlock kept me balanced as I stepped over the corpse on the front porch, his gun pointed beside me.

Sam and Dean barreled through the door, armed and ready. To my relief, John and Cas were seated in the living room, both unharmed. They rose in unison as we entered.

John sighed, "Oh, thank God."

"She's broken an arm," Sherlock announced, ushering me to the sofa.

"I'm fine," I muttered.

I winced as I sank into the sofa, and John frowned in response. He took my arm gently, prodding at the broken bone to gauge my reaction. I yelped when he squeezed the base of my forearm.

"Sherlock, find me something to wrap Cece's arm with. And I'll be needing your scarf."

"Sam, Dean," Cas drawled, scrutinizing them as they came back down the hall.

"Have you two seen anything?" Dean pressed.

"You mean other than the ten foot monsters outside?" John grumbled.

"They wouldn't know even if they did," I interjected softly, barely paying mind as Sherlock returned. "Once you take your eyes off the Silence you've forgotten you've seen them at all."

"The Silence?" John froze for a moment. "What the devil is that?"

"An alien religious order. They're dangerous, but nothing we can handle as long as we're looking at them."

"Like the Weeping Angels?" Sam asked.

"Sort of. As I said, if you look away you'll forget about them. I must have seen one in my bedroom before I came down stairs this morning. I don't remember when I started marking my wrist with tally marks, but it's the only proof I have that they're here."

"How do we kill 'em?"

"A bullet is enough."

Dean's brows furrowed, "If they're so easy to kill, then what good would it do to send them?"

"It's possible they were simply sent to spy," I answered. "The Silence act more as delegates. Our best chance is to make sure everyone is armed and shoot on sight."

Dean cocked his weapon, "I can do that."

"Pardon my inquiry, but wouldn't a more intelligent option be keeping one alive?" Sherlock interposed with a cock of his brow, "After all, this alien could have information regarding our enemies and offer solutions to better prepare ourselves."

I rejected the thought, "Even if we could, the likeliness of one of them saying anything is zero. They're vague, stealthy creatures and knowing what else is out there won't help us prepare against the things that we can't kill."

The living room was still, quiet for some time.

John wrapped my arm snug and used Sherlock's scarf as a sling. I looked down briefly, taken aback by the silver duct tape and ruler holding my arm stiff in place, and exchanged a glance with John. His lips were tight in a disappointed frown, shaking his head softly.

"Maybe," Sam sighed, "We should have kept Moriarty for interrogation."

"Don't be daft, Samuel," Sherlock groaned with a roll of his eyes. "Keeping that fool around would have endangered us all."