Don't Tell Sammy

Chapter 13: GOD HATES YOU.

They were bringing guns with them into the walls in case anything showed up.

Guns, salt, a selection of bullets made of different materials, some knives and some flashlights.

They had to be safe, because by now they didn't know what they were dealing with.

'You ready?' Dean asked, very tempted to make an excuse to touch Cas by straightening the multi-slot holster attached to his belt which held his gun and two knives. But considering the ... placement of the general belt region, maybe that'd be a step too far.

'Of course,' Castiel confirmed. 'Are we going?'

Dean nodded. They turned in the direction of the door.

The parking lot was eerie and quiet at night, the dull lights not helping matters much, as they approached the door Dean had pointed out earlier. Looking around them with caution, they went at a steady pace, but one that was slower than normal. If they were spotted here, they were screwed.

The door blended into the wall well, a heavy grey color. It looked to be made of some kind of metal that had faded. Dean put his hand into his pocket to find his lock pick, seeing the chains, until he saw the lock which made him pull his hand back out.

'It's been back here.'

The lock was broken in two; it looked like it had been snapped apart by something stronger than it was, although it was hard to tell what. Dean picked up the lock and examined it, handed it to Cas who examined it, but their exchanged look was as confused as ever.

'Do you think it's in there?' Castiel asked.

'Maybe,' Dean muttered, nodding. 'Only one way to find out. Flashlights on.'

They both turned on their flashlights as Dean unlatched the bolt the lock had been keeping latched and pulled the door open, heavy and thick and stiff.

The smell that greeted them was like tsunami washing over them, so strong it almost knocked them backwards, and it was obvious from first glance that the stairs leading up were coated the black substance that stunk of rot and decay and death. It was thick, in an enormous volume, the smell worse for having been in an enclosed space.

'Is there any way of getting up there without ... stepping in it?' Castiel asked meekly, looking at the goo in disgust and taking a step back from the doorway.

'You don't have the hidden ability to walk up walls, do you?' Dean asked, feebly joking.

'As much as I wish we could simply walk the walls, I don't,' Castiel replied. 'That ability vanished with the rest of my powers,' he added sarcastically. 'You know, the ability to be a fly.'

'Or a spider,' Dean suggested.

'Any insect, really,' Castiel agreed. 'Or ... almost any. Most winged ones. Although I say insect when in actuality spiders are arachnids, hence the term arachnophobia over something like "spiderphobia" or something like–'

'Stalling so we don't have to step in that so soon?'

'Is it that obvious?'

'Yeah, pretty obvious. But there's no getting out of this,' Dean groaned, closing his eyes. 'So follow me.'

Dean took a step forward, bracing himself, as his foot squelched loudly on the steps. When Dean was a few steps in, Castiel followed, shutting the door behind him, trapping them in with the small which gradually began to worsen.

When they reached the top, meaning they were now on the ground floor, there was a ladder to their immediate left, which led to the second floor, and there was a stretch of (thankfully) mostly clean ground ahead of them, which they walked along, flashlights on the walls and the floor alike. It wasn't a particularly wide area, but it was straight for a time – probably the length of the lobby – and then it dipped left, marking the shape of the apartments on the first floor.