Sam and a very reluctant Dean Winchester travel to England to investigate gruesome murders. Unknown to them, however, is the fact that it was caused by Lord Voldemort, who has now declared open war...
Also, this will probably focus alot on Sam and Dean, but Harry will be in this story. I decided to post this in the Harry Potter section because it is a popular category.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, so don't sue me.
Spoilers: Devil's Trap for SPN; OOTP for HP
Warning: Blood, gore, all that good stuff.
It was a beautiful summer night in London, England. The city rejoiced as a brutal heat wave ended, much worse than last summer's drought. This summer's drought destroyed much grass and plant life because of the fact that it was too hot for anybody to feel comfortable watering their lawns. Tonight the temperature dropped down to a nice 70 degrees Fahrenheit. All in all a good reason to rejoice. Unfortunately, the citizens wouldn't have much to rejoice for tomorrow, for horror was about to plague a small neighborhood.
Dark-cloaked hooded figures moved stealthily down a street in a single file line. They moved with a purpose. Sadly for the innocent residents of this street, their purpose was to cause as much death, destruction, and mayhem as it took to satisfy their lust for blood.
Abruptly, the figure at the front of the line, obviously the leader, paused and held up his hand to signal for the others to stop. When the figure spoke, his followers hung on the his every word, his charisma and grace enticing them all.
"My friends," the figure began, "this atack will only be one of many in the days that come. This is only the beginning. I have no doubt that the Ministry of Magic will soon declare war on us. The road to victory will be no easy task. We may have more experienced soldiers, but the Light has superior numbers. Blood will be spilt on both sides, make no mistake about it. I have faith that our strength and determination will lead us to victory!" Even though the words were said softly it had the desired effect. It absolutely pumped up the crowd.
"The war begins here and now!" the man bellowed, "It begins on our terms and we will fight to the end!"
The crowd roared approvingly at the speech. Slowly the figure lowered it's hood, revealing the smirking face of the Dark Lord, Voldemort.
Lord Voldemort was not a handesome man, although no one would ever dare to tell him that. His features frightened even the strongest of men. In fact, he barely resembled a human being, instead looking more serpentine. His skin was pale, though not enough to warrant attention. Even more disturbing was his nose; it looked like it was painfully smashed flat, leaving only two thin slits as nostrils. But by far, the worse feature of Voldemort was his blood red eyes. When his followers looked into his eyes they felt as if he was gazing into their minds and souls; which he was, courtesy of Legilimency.
"Now," he grinned in anticipation, "Lets have some fun."
Boston MA, USA
Samuel "Sam" Winchester and his brother Dean were just finishing up what they do best. No, they weren't arguing, they were on a hunt. They had just finished destroying a vampire (after all, you can't kill the undead) that had plagued the Boston for the past twelve years. After trapping the vampire, Sam poured a bucket of garlic powder on it while Dean shot the vampire in the face with his trusty salt-filled shotgun. It by no means killed it, but it hurt like a son of a bitch. After that, the boys dragged the wounded, but still alive, vampire into the sunlight where it promptly burst into flames. Yep, just another normal day in the lives of the Winchester brothers.
Currently the brothers were driving out of the city in Dean's classic '67 Chevy Impala, Def Leppard music blasting from the radio, and searching for a motel to stay the night in. After driving past empty fields for a few hours they finally pulled in to a Motel 6. After paying for the rooms with some of Dean's "hard earned" poker winnings, the weary boys settled into their rooms.
"I still don't see why we had to pay for these rooms with my poker winnings," Dean complained.
"Dean," Sam replied exasperated," we've had this conversation many times before. Not all motels take credit cards. Get over it. Besides, its not like you had any plans for that money anyway, unless you call picking up girls at bars a worthy plan."
"You know me to well, Sammy-boy," Dean said, throwing his duffel bag onto the bed and heading for the the T.V. "I don't go around looking for woman, they're just attracted to my natural good looks," he added with a cocky grin.
Holding back a snort of amusement, Sam said decided to change the subject. "I call shower first!" said, hurriedly gathering his clothes from his bag.
"Hey!" Dean protested, "No fair, that vampire bled all over me! You don'thave a spec of blood on you!"
"Not my problem," Sam replied laughing.
"Bitch," Dean muttered.
"Jerk," Sam shot back, running into the bathroom.
Both brothers knew that the banter was in good fun, so no feelings were hurt. Dean was overjoyed to see Sam laughing again, which was something that didn't happen very often with first the death of his girlfriend, Jessica, and then his father, John. Maybe he was finally coming out of his shell.
The next morning found Sam awake at the room's table, hunched over his laptop computer. Dean was out to get coffee and Sam had elected to stay behind and search the internet for strange or unusual occurrances which might be their kind of job. Sam still didn't find anything when Dean returned.
"Here," Dean handed Sam a coffee,"You look like a zombie without your caffeine, you know."
Sam didn't bother responding to Dean except to thank him for the coffee, he just continued searching the web for a few more minutes while Dean flipped through the T.V. channels.
"Man, there's nothing on T.V. in the morning," Dean complained,"This is almost as bad as daytime television." Dean gave an exaggerated shudder to express his dislike. After clicking through a few more channels, he turned off the T.V. in disgust.
"Hey Sammy, did you find anything yet?" Dean asked impatiently. Sam hadn't spoken for a while now.
The sound of his brother's voice startled sam out of his thoughts. "Definitely," Sam answerred looking up from his computer and turning it so Dean could see the screen. "According to this newspaper, twenty-seven people died in one street on the same night."
"Cause of deaths?" Dean asked.
"It was differen't for everybody. Some were found decapitated, others were found literally ripped limb from limb. Many of the bodies had deep abrasions, or cuts. But that's not even the worst of it," Sam explained, his face was pale and he felt sick just thinking about it.
"Sammy, what could be worse than that?" inquired Dean.
When Sam hesitated Dean grew concerned. "Sam..." he prompted.
Sighing, Sam explained. "A victim was found missing all ten fingers, all ten toes, his nose, both ears, and both eyes. Investigators believe that the man was still alive when a cane pierced his heart, killing him. Also -"
"Wait!" Dean interrupted, seemingly not fazed by the gruesome murders,"A cane?"
"Yeah, do you think it means something, Dean?" Sam asked, curious about his brothers train of thought.
"Maybe," Dean answerred,"Maybe not. Any other weird or gruesome deaths?"
Sam nodded, clearly unhappy to be describing such atrocious acts. "Two," he said. "First off, some bodies were perfectly healthy and unharmed, aside from the fact that they were dead. Second, and this is very disturbing, is that a victim was bound and someone forced him to swallow a liter of acid. His internal organs were completely destroyed and almost his whole body, bones and all, was destroyed."
Dean felt as sick as Sam looked, but he refused to show it. He had to be strong for his little brother. Whatever the thing was it had to be stopped before even more innocent lives were taken. "So Sam, what city was this in exactly?"
"London, England," Sam replied.
Dean froze. Absolutely not. He was not getting on a plane again. Ever since he was a young boy he had been afraid to fly. Last time he was on a plane he was almost killed, courtesy of a demon. Besides, they still had to find the demon that killed their mother, Sam's girlfriend, Jessica, and it was probably the reason their father was dead, too. Dean decided to make it clear to Sam what his opinion on the matter was.
"We're not going."
"What!? Why not?" Sam asked, thoroughly shocked that Dean would refuse to help innocent people.
"Are you forgetting something, Sam?" Dean's voice was rising now. "We need to find the Demon! We need to avenge Mom and Jess! Hell, it probably killed Dad, too. Do you even care!?"
Sam sprang from his seat so suddenly that Dean didn't have time to react. Sam grabbed Dean's shirt collar roughly. "Don't you ever try to insinuate that I don't care!" he roared, bottled up emotions coming to the surface. "Of course I care! Jess's death still eats me up inside, as you damn well know!" He angrily let go of Dean's collar and shoving him back.
"Then why do you want to up and leave!?" Dean demanded. "We should hunting the demon, not leaving the country and allow the demon to kill more innocent people! We can't allow this demon to take any more lives, to destroy anymore families!"
"Innocent people are being killed now!" Sam yelled. Lowering his voice, he continued, "People need our help now, Dean. Besides, we don't have any leads on the demon's whereabouts anyway. We have to wait until it makes the first move."
Dean hated to admit it, but Sam was right. They had no clue where the demon was and innocent people needed them. "You're right, Sam," he said, feeling bad about what he said to Sam.
Sam nodded. An uncomfortable silience filled the room, which was broken by Dean, "Sam, I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean what I said. I was out of line."
"I know," Sam said, moving to hug his brother, which Dean returned. This was a rare moment indeed for the Winchester boys. After all, young men have enough problems with being emotional, Sam and Dean had the bonus of being raised by John Winchester.
"Hey," Sam said, smiling. "Weren't you the one that said 'No chick flick moments'?"
Dean's tough guy persona quickly returned. "Bitch."
"Jerk," Sam retorted, the mood now turning back to normal. "So, any other objections, Dean?"
"As a matter of fact I do," Dean answered.
Sam barely suppressed a groan of frustration. Why did Dean have to be so stubborn? "What is it now, Dean?
"I am not getting on a plane, Sam," Dean said."Especially after last time."
Sam couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. "Come on, Dean. Get over it. There isn't anything to be afraid of."
"Nothing to be afraid of?" Dean asked incredulously, "Nothing to be afraid of? I can think of many things to be afraid of. Demons, terrorists, a plane crash, airline food, bad service, and the ticket price."
Sam knew Dean was trying to joke around to keep up his tough guy image and he wasn't buying Dean's act at all. It all came down to Dean's fear of flying. "Dean....."
"Can't we just take a boat?" Dean pleaded.
"A boat?" Sam asked. "Do you know how long it takes to sail from America to Britian?"
"The British did it," Dean insisted, "and we can, too."
"That would take way too much time, Dean," Sam explained. "By the time we'd get there more people would either be dead or the thing that did it would be long gone.
Sam knew a way to get Dean on a plane and he also knew that it was a low blow and he hated to bring it up like this. "What would Dad do?"
Dean's jaw clenched as he thought it over. He quickly made up his mind. His father wouldn't back down from a challenge and neither would he. "Fine, Sam," he said quietly, "You win."
Sam felt bad about what he said, he knew it hurt Dean, but he knew it had to be done. "Just think of it this way, Dean. It's just like going on vacation. We'll even go sight-seeing."
"Your right, Sam," Dean said, brightening up considerably. Slowly Dean's face broke out into a broad grin.
"What is it?" Sam asked, seeing his brother grin.
If anything, Dean's grin just grew. "I hear that European girls are wild."
Sam didn' bother dignifying that with an answer, but he was glad that Dean would willingly, albeit grudgingly, get on the plane.
"How is the Impala getting there?"