Keeping Up With The Browns VIII

The white plastic door was ajar, the brief crack showing the illumination from the surveillance cameras inside. Unlike the wafting smell of blood and excrement in the hallway, there was a noticeable absence of smell inside.

As if something was preventing the smell from piercing through past the room, a barrier of some sort. A magical barrier, according to his senses, that covered the entire room; a powerful magik that only a few creatures in the world could create such a barrier.

"Pagan magik." He muttered under his breath as he brought out his Angel Sword. The gleaming silver sword reflected the single bruise in his cheeks. "Heads-up. God on the other side."

"You know this is bullshit, right?" Dean suddenly remarked. "We deal with pagans. Hell, we just did one a few months ago, and it drove us nuts. But that's just one of them. Now we just killed one and there's what? Seven others in the building and more one the way? Bullshit."

"Well, you're more than welcome to sit on your ass and twiddle your thumb back in my room." Irwin grinned as he riled Dean up. 

"Yap, yap, yap. Just remember that I saved your British ass from a god a few minutes ago." Dean said smugly before he ran forward and kicked the door open.

Huwawa stood in the middle of the room, mouth moving in silent singing. He reacted from the vibrations of the door, turning his decollete towards the two. 

The monster had the same appearance from before, with a few bits of difference. His tufted fur was drenched in blood and sweat and a silver knife was stuck on Huwawa's left shoulder blade.

As he turned around and faced the two, seven holes revealed themselves, with three grouped around the heart, three around the neck, and one very obvious bleeding hole near his crotch.

Huwawa began to speak, but had yet to realize that no sound was coming out of the room. Behind the hirsute monster were two figures tied up in a chair, bloodied and beaten to unconsciousness. 

"Bobby!" Dean's eyes widened in fear as he yelled, dumbfounded by the sight of Bobby Singer with a missing left foot. He wanted to rush forward, but Irwin was quick on the draw and grabbed a hold of the hunter before he could die.

"Stop it. Stop it. We can fix the foot." Irwin tried to calm down Dean, but the man wasn't hearing it. He breathed in and Commanded, "Calm yourself."

A wave of energy burst forth from Irwin and centered on Dean, magically receding the latter's emotion and allowing a moment of reprieve from the physical confrontation.

"Ahem, ahem. Good evening, my aide." Huwawa greeted, finally figuring out about the silence and had reconfigured his barrier. "You are quite late and yet I am not angered. I am quite a magnanimous lord and because you seemed to have brought me quite a… dessert."

Dean's voice croaked out, greatly resisting the sub-effect, to Irwin's surprise. "Y-you son of a bitch–"

Irwin clamped down Dean's mouth and kicked him in the back of his knee, grounding the hunter into a kneeling position before whispering, "Shut up, go with it, and heal them."

Irwin pulled Dean by his hair, letting Huwawa scrutinize Dean's angered expression. "AB blood, sir. Just for you."

"Good, good. Come inside so you will not sully my food." Huwawa snapped his fingers, causing a barely visible light to fluctuate in front of the door.

Irwin carried Dean past the door, his other hand slipping potions in Dean's jacket pocket.

The moment he stepped foot inside, any sound or smell coming from outside the door disappeared without a trace. What filled his senses were warmth and the smell of a rainforest, contrasting the puddle of blood underneath the chairs sat upon by Ellen Harvelle and Bobby Singer.

The two were beaten within an inch of their life. Not one slab of skin was without a bite, bruise or wound. Bobby, of all people, had his left foot severed or, by the looks of it, broken like a chicken tendon and seemingly eaten by Huwawa.

"Uh, did you do the… masterpiece on the outside?" Irwin asked as he threw Dean to the side with the latter acknowledging and going along with the plan. 

Huwawa groaned as he licked the tears on Ellen's face. "Ugh. That was the Weaver of the damned Grass. 'Artistic', she says. A waste is what I think."

"I actually agree with you. Took me too much effort to get this one." Irwin sighed with exhaustion as his Flaming Whip wrapped around his arm. "Had to use one of my own spells."

Huwawa reacted to his words, turning his head and scanning the silver spikes roaming around Irwin's arm as the blue flames licked the air. "I see. A witch of your caliber must be rare around this part. Hell, I must say that even back then, you would be a rare priest for us."

"It is my honor, sir." Irwin bowed his head lightly.

Huwawa hummed in appreciation and turned his back towards Dean, grasping the handsome hunter's face with utter delight in his eyes. Irwin briefly scanned the two restrained hunters and found Ellen waking up from her unconsciousness, which meant that he only had a brief time to enact his plan. 

His left hand twisted as the Angel Blade appeared within his palms and slashed at Huwawa's back. With so much on the line, Irwin activated the Swordsmanship skill's sub-effect, True Strike.

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…

Sub-effect: True Strike - Once activated for 20% of the caster's Stamina, a single one-handed/two-handed weapon strike can be made that cannot be blocked or evaded by normal means. The strike is magical in nature and can bypass Full resistances or below.

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Before the Angel Blade could reach Huwawa's back, the monster's form shivered and his body shifted a foot to the left. The blade missed its target, and before Irwin could pull back, a hairy hand grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to the pagan god.

"I watched the tapes. I saw you kill a Servant Sister." Huwawa showed off his toothy maw and kicked Irwin away like a rag doll. 

The blade clattered to the ground as Irwin landed on the other side of the room. Huwawa let out a throaty guffaw before amusedly growling at Irwin's agony. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted a human. Too stupid to see the bigger picture." 

Irwin stood up shakily and immediately rushed forward as he saw Dean Winchester barreled rolled towards Bobby and Ellen. Needing to provide cover for the man, he tried to punch Huwawa with his flaming fist, silver spikes slithering around his forearm like a school of starving sharks. 

Huwawa was not deterred by the flaming fist, however, as he met the punch with one of his own, creating a wave of pure energy from the collision.

Both combatants slid back in pain, their heels grinding the very floor inches into the ground. Huwawa was the first to recover from the attack as he suddenly disappeared from Irwin's sight, startling the Greythorne heir.

"Fuck." He said as he scanned the room, wide-eyed and alarmed. He was still feeling the strength from the monster's punch, even with his Skeletal Reinforcement skill giving him a definite defensive advantage.

He willed forth his Flaming Whip and tried to test his luck by whipping it around the room, only for the initial whip to be halted by Huwawa's form emerging a few inches away from Irwin's face.

Huwawa winded his head back as the hair in his face hardened and turned into steel before slamming it into Irwin's temple. A gut-wrenching crack reverberated across the room as Irwin was launched off his feet and onto the ground.

Invisibility, short-range teleportation, and fur hardening. It appeared that he was yet again so full of himself that he had forgotten to do research and prepare for his enemy.

"You welch always think you can do what you want…" Huwawa kept his attention at Irwin, wiping away the drool covering his facial hair.

Irwin cursed himself as he gripped his flaming whip. He needed an attack strong enough to pierce through Huwawa's hardened fur and fast enough that it could reach him before he could teleport or go invisible.

'If only I could wish for something like… that.' Irwin's eyes widened as Huwawa rushed forward, snarling and growling like a crazed beast.

He didn't pay the pagan god mind as he closed his eyes and made a wish.

A wish to alter his weaponized spell from an area of effect to one that could demolish a single target without a mess. A wish to help him defeat a god without resorting to close combat.

The room pulsed with energy as Irwin invoked the spell, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. The surrounding air crackled, and the blue flames that licked his arm intensified, condensing into a searing hot aura. 

The spikes on his whip merged into a single, solid blade of pure solar energy, glowing with an intensity that cast harsh shadows on the beige walls.

"Solar Slash!"