Dean Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
single_man_tear) wrote2024-10-06 12:10 pm
single_man_tear) wrote2024-10-06 12:10 pm
Entry tags:
Late Sunday Evening - Midnight, Montana
Dean’s boots crunched over the loose gravel as he made his way through the quarry in Midnight, Montana. His flashlight cut through the darkness, barely illuminating the tunnel below. The place was a mess of twists and turns—perfect for the Minotaur to hide and pick off any unlucky hiker dumb enough to wander in.
“Of course it’s a damn labyrinth,” Dean muttered under his breath. The Minotaur horn was the last piece they needed for the antidote, and there was no way he was leaving without it.
He ventured deeper into the old mine, each step heavier as the walls closed in, forcing him to duck under jagged rocks and squeeze through tight spaces. Then he heard it—the faint sound of cloven hooves echoing through the tunnels. Dean froze, his hand already on his gun.
His eyes scanned the darkness, heart pounding. The tunnel opened into a wide chamber, a stone pit with pillars rising from the floor like some ancient ruin. And then he saw it.
The Minotaur charged from the shadows, a hulking mass of muscle and rage, its horns scraping the ceiling as it barreled toward him, swinging a massive axe. Dean dove to the side, rolling to his feet just in time to avoid being skewered. The thing let out a guttural roar, red eyes locked on him and filled with fury.
It lunged again, swinging their axe with enough force to turn him into roadkill if he hadn’t ducked in time. Dean fired his gun, the bullets biting into the beast’s flesh but barely slowing it down. The Minotaur bellowed, swinging wildly, and Dean dodged just as the axe slammed into the ground, sending up a shower of dirt and rock.
“This is all those bacon cheeseburgers coming back for revenge,” Dean quipped, sidestepping another attack. He fired again, hitting the Minotaur in the shoulder, but it kept coming.
Dean scanned the chamber, spotting a crumbling pillar nearby. He sprinted toward it, the Minotaur charging after him, each step shaking the ground. Dean skidded to a halt in front of the pillar, turning just as the beast lowered its head to gore him. At the last second, he dove out of the way, and the Minotaur’s horns slammed into the stone, cracking it with a deafening crash.
The pillar collapsed, pinning the Minotaur’s arm and part of its leg. The creature roared in fury, struggling to free itself, but Dean was already moving. He fired one shot after another until a clean bullet to the head finally took it down. The Minotaur let out a final, pained gurgle before slumping under the rubble.
Dean stood there for a moment, catching his breath, his pulse still racing. “I’m totally having a ribeye after this,” he muttered. Pulling out his machete, he hacked the horn free from the Minotaur’s head.
With the horn in hand, he retraced his steps through the tunnels. His legs felt like lead, but the adrenaline kept him going. By the time he reached the quarry’s entrance, the moon was rising, casting just enough light to see the Impala parked nearby.
Dean limped over to the car, popped the trunk, and stashed the horn safely inside. He leaned against the Impala, taking a deep breath as the exhaustion finally hit him. “I’m getting too old for this,” he grumbled.
He pulled out his phone and sent Cal a quick update before sliding into the driver’s seat. The Impala roared to life, and Dean steered toward the portal point, an hour’s drive away. Glancing at the quarry in his rearview mirror, he pressed down on the gas.
After the talk with Bobby today, he couldn’t help but wonder: Was this his last hunt? Would there ever be a last hunt?
He shrugged off the thought, silencing any doubts, and hit the road. Home was waiting.
[NFB due to distance. Open for calls, texts, etc.]
“Of course it’s a damn labyrinth,” Dean muttered under his breath. The Minotaur horn was the last piece they needed for the antidote, and there was no way he was leaving without it.
He ventured deeper into the old mine, each step heavier as the walls closed in, forcing him to duck under jagged rocks and squeeze through tight spaces. Then he heard it—the faint sound of cloven hooves echoing through the tunnels. Dean froze, his hand already on his gun.
His eyes scanned the darkness, heart pounding. The tunnel opened into a wide chamber, a stone pit with pillars rising from the floor like some ancient ruin. And then he saw it.
The Minotaur charged from the shadows, a hulking mass of muscle and rage, its horns scraping the ceiling as it barreled toward him, swinging a massive axe. Dean dove to the side, rolling to his feet just in time to avoid being skewered. The thing let out a guttural roar, red eyes locked on him and filled with fury.
It lunged again, swinging their axe with enough force to turn him into roadkill if he hadn’t ducked in time. Dean fired his gun, the bullets biting into the beast’s flesh but barely slowing it down. The Minotaur bellowed, swinging wildly, and Dean dodged just as the axe slammed into the ground, sending up a shower of dirt and rock.
“This is all those bacon cheeseburgers coming back for revenge,” Dean quipped, sidestepping another attack. He fired again, hitting the Minotaur in the shoulder, but it kept coming.
Dean scanned the chamber, spotting a crumbling pillar nearby. He sprinted toward it, the Minotaur charging after him, each step shaking the ground. Dean skidded to a halt in front of the pillar, turning just as the beast lowered its head to gore him. At the last second, he dove out of the way, and the Minotaur’s horns slammed into the stone, cracking it with a deafening crash.
The pillar collapsed, pinning the Minotaur’s arm and part of its leg. The creature roared in fury, struggling to free itself, but Dean was already moving. He fired one shot after another until a clean bullet to the head finally took it down. The Minotaur let out a final, pained gurgle before slumping under the rubble.
Dean stood there for a moment, catching his breath, his pulse still racing. “I’m totally having a ribeye after this,” he muttered. Pulling out his machete, he hacked the horn free from the Minotaur’s head.
With the horn in hand, he retraced his steps through the tunnels. His legs felt like lead, but the adrenaline kept him going. By the time he reached the quarry’s entrance, the moon was rising, casting just enough light to see the Impala parked nearby.
Dean limped over to the car, popped the trunk, and stashed the horn safely inside. He leaned against the Impala, taking a deep breath as the exhaustion finally hit him. “I’m getting too old for this,” he grumbled.
He pulled out his phone and sent Cal a quick update before sliding into the driver’s seat. The Impala roared to life, and Dean steered toward the portal point, an hour’s drive away. Glancing at the quarry in his rearview mirror, he pressed down on the gas.
After the talk with Bobby today, he couldn’t help but wonder: Was this his last hunt? Would there ever be a last hunt?
He shrugged off the thought, silencing any doubts, and hit the road. Home was waiting.
[NFB due to distance. Open for calls, texts, etc.]