triskehale | (no subject)

Derek actually sort of likes Halloween.

His family always used to go all out and decorate their house out in the woods, and Laura liked to dress up as little red riding hood for the irony of it. He took Cora and his little cousins out trick or treating, and he pulled stupid pranks with his friends.

It was a more somber affair after the fire, and him and Laura usually spent it holed up in their apartment stuffing their faces with candy, until one year she burst into Derek's room in a sexy red riding hood costume and demanded that they go out, and Derek had fun.

It's his first Halloween without Laura and he decides to honor her by taking his jogs through what's apparently called the Necropolis, which seems to be made up of a decrepit old cemetery littered with crypts seemingly always shrouded in fog, and a crumbling old church in the middle that really ties the whole thing together. On the outskirts of the Necropolis and the city itself, there's an abandoned old insane asylum, decaying and overgrown with moss. It's where Derek suggested that Remus spend his full moons, and he thinks Stiles might like poking around on a safer night.

Derek decided to check it out, just out of morbid curiosity, but a strange scent hits him once he's standing in the middle of the foyer. It makes his wolf want to run and cower, which is odd, and Derek's skin prickles with unease as he looks around and lets out a low warning growl. He isn't expecting the answering growl, or for it to be loud enough that the walls nearly shake. Derek shifts into beta form and snarls, and out of the corner of his eye he catches wings and hooves as something flies right over his head with a screech.

He's learning from his mistakes, and as such has decided to stop running headfirst into fights that he knows he can't win. So he leaves the asylum in a hurry, and heads straight for the only person that he can really think of to help.

Dean's interested, as Derek assumed he would be, and a few hours later they're heading back towards the asylum with a bag of gear each. Derek knows he's about to know first hand what hunting for monsters with Dean Winchester is really like.

"So, what's the plan here?"

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"Believe it or not," replies Dean, checking the chamber of his gun, "This is one I thought for sure was a myth. I mean I've been hunting for decades now, and some of the stories, they never really pan out. But..." Dean scrubs a hand over his face, trying like hell not to sound excited. He's not twenty anymore, after all.

"Wings and hooves, a growl like yours...I think we've got an honest to god Jersey Devil on our hands."

"No shit." Derek snorts and lets his eyes shift to red just so that he can see better. "I mean, I can't say the thought didn't cross my mind when I saw it, but I didn't think it was real."

They approach the entrance to the asylum and he looks around, watching Dean get his gun ready and lengthening his claws, just in case. "So, Jersey Devil. Anything up there in that big hunter brain of yours tell you what we should be doing next?"

"For the first time in a long while, I've actually got nothing," Dean admits, but he doesn't sound any less eager. "Legend has it the thing can take a cannonball to the face and keep on kicking. Looks like we're going to find out how it fares against werewolf claws and something I haven't hunted with in a long while."

He hadn't really expected to find it in the trunk of the Impala. It hadn't been in Sam's apartment when he disappeared, and Dean's only been able to stand the sight of the car a few times since. But there it was, nestled between a crossbow and a Beretta.

Reaching into his pocket, Dean pulls out the Colt. "I was going to kill the Devil with this. Looks like the Jersey Devil will have to do."

He doesn't really know how well his claws and teeth compare to a canon ball to the face, but he's willing to find out. The entryway to the asylum is dark and quiet, smelling of rotting wood and mildew, and Derek turns to look at Dean when he says the thing about the devil. The gun cradled in his hands is obviously old, gleaming sinisterly in the moonlight. Derek knows that it wasn't an exaggeration, but that he meant the literal Devil.

At least being friends with Dean puts things in perspective for Derek. No matter how shitty is life was, it could have been worse. He literally can't even imagine what it would be like to go up against some of the shit Dean has. The guy is made of steel, or least he's good at making it seem like he is.

"So, is the asshole still kicking, then?" Derek asks casually, keeping his head tilted vaguely upwards as he listens closely for a flutter of wings or the clomping of hooves.

Edited 2013-11-13 21:21 (UTC)

Tucking the Colt away again, Dean considers. He doesn't like talking about this, but he brought it up. "Not where I'm from. Cas, my brother, and Ruby when she was here, they're from a different, better version of where we came from. For them, Lucifer's back in the cage, which is as close as anyone could get him to dead. Where I come from..."

Dean sucks in a breath. "He's still wearing my brother."

Derek turns to look at him, swallowing hard as smells Dean's despair. There's absolutely nothing he can say here. Laura is dead and gone, and Derek has absolutely no idea how idea he'd be able to handle something evil being out there wearing his skin. It makes him shiver just to think about.

Words absolutely fail him, so he just reaches out and squeezes Dean's shoulder tightly, wishing there was anything he could do.

Before the moment has time to get awkward, Derek catches a fresh burst of the creature's scent and his eyes glow red as his head whips around towards the stairs. "It's here," he says quietly around his fangs, crouching into a fighting stance just in case.