Author's Note:

Hey sorry I've been gone a while, some complicated things happened and depression came back with a vengeance. I'm doing better so I'm getting back to work :)

The Defenders made camp near the incident, eyes peeled for their wormy friend. John stared forward, his demeanour the same as any of the older people in his company.

Battle hardened folks with scars to show it. They were the silent bunch, hundreds of intentions declared with a single nod.

"How's it going, Winchester?"

John looked up at Lawrence Tull, a taller man with a permanent sneer. "Nothing so far."

Their wives were friends, thus so were they. Not that John disliked Lawrence, they had actually become pals beforehand. It was a happy coincidence to discover Mary and Nikki met on their own.

"We're close to the chasm, should be any time now."

"Mm."

Lawrence chuckled, bringing John's gaze back to him. "Newbies seem pretty excited."

John looked at the newest Defenders. They were teenagers, lived in the settlement as long as they could remember. "You think they should be?" He asked dully.

"Hell no," said Tull with a smirk. "They're about to fight an abyss worm."

He was about to answer when the ground shook. A gargled shriek closed in from a nearby crevice, rising to the surface.

"Here it comes!" Someone shouted and it appeared, like a rocket from the bottom of the cliff.

Large flaps of muscle lifted away from its mouth, a fanged chasm. The ground shook with its guttural roar, phlegm flew overhead. John ducked behind his cover, screaming for others to get down too.

Rock corroded under the fluid as it landed, some splashed at John's side. He flinched away, discarding his coat as the sleeve disintegrated.

Screams erupted from his men, he heard a familiar sick sound as limbs shucked into the dirt. Gurgled and horrified, they stumbled over the ashen ground until. As the saliva ate through bone, they fell.

Bad luck killed them, not lack of skill. John hated to see such wasted potential, but it came with the job. He rose to see over his defense, the worm loomed above but made no moves.

Its attention lingered down, hissing at the cliff edge. John squinted in the darkness, something was there in its shadow.

A flare gun fired from their unit, its red light bouncing from the worm's belly. Causing no harm, the flare illuminated their foe and the source of its irritation.

The small frame of a child stood at the abyss worm's base. John felt his stomach knot, he'd never make it in time. That didn't stop him from trying, running like a madman to a suicidal rescue.

The worm lunged down, crashing face first into the ground where the kid was.

But John was wrong, he had made it. He caught the child and threw them both with his momentum. The kid crashed into the rocks, and John felt a crushing weight on his legs.

He could hear himself cursing and yelling, it hurt too much to pay attention to the words. He crawled when the worm lifted again, dragging himself a few inches before he had to stop. Pain shot through his body and a scream tore from his throat.

"It's okay," the child said to him. Its voice was soothing but strange, almost as if their vocal chords were just used for the first time.

John looked up at the kid, blood had painted streaks from his hair down his chin. A head injury, no doubt from hitting the rocks. Yet they didn't seem fazed by it, like it didn't hurt at all.

Before he found the words to respond, the child climbed up as the perfect sacrifice for the worm.

"What are you doing!?"

"Get down from there, kid!"

"Oh my god! OH MY GOD!"

In seconds it had eaten the kid. The abyss worm crashed into the ground again, nothing but a crater remained when it lifted.

John's stomach turned. Lawrence ran to his side, saying something about moving. That kid couldn't have been much older than Dean, he thought.

The ground rumbled as the beast roared, shaking too much for Lawrence to keep balance either. He tried to drag John along the ground, it was slow moving as the worm leaned back for another body slam.

A glow flickered in its belly.

John would've sworn he'd lost his mind, but the worm's stomach lit up. Light poured out of its maw, shiny teeth vibrating from a hideous screech.

It thrashed, acid rained on the Defenders another time. John closed his eyes and waited, but nothing hit him. The night filled with death rattles, his ears rang as the memory lodged deep within his brain.

He looked up to see the worm convulse, then John's dream came true. It fell off the ledge, out of sight just in time for a sickening sound. Like flesh tearing, wet and unnaturally loud.

Blood sprayed out of the chasm, a fountain falling in the dark.

Cheers erupted from the Defenders that remained, John could only stare blankly.

Had the child done that? John's mind swarmed with the question on repeat, as well as the possibilities it suggested. His team packed up what they could from their fallen allies, him included.

Moving hurt like a bitch. Lawrence had stuffed a ball of cloth into his mouth before they tried it. He snarled and cursed as they lifted him onto the cart.

John was in and out at that time. One second he was in agony, the next he was numb and facing the sky. He heard his own scream, then suddenly it became the hushed chatter of his team.

"Hold on!" Someone shouted another moment later. The sky was brighter now, the sun on its way. John blinked, bleary-eyed and confused about the time.

Another moment passed, it was further into the morning. John could now smell something putrid. It lingered at the back of his nose, stubborn and planted.

"Hey John," Lawrence leaned into his view, a stupid smile on his face. "Guess who we just got?"

John narrowed his eyes, his mouth didn't want to work for him. "Who?" He croaked out.

Lawrence lifted the child for John to see. A boy with dark hair and dirty skin, clothed in a dead man's shirt.

"You got eaten," John said in disbelief.

The child nodded simply.

"We're taking him home with us." Lawrence declared and placed the boy in the cart by John's feet.

He looked down and noticed his legs. "Are they broken?" He didn't want to move them to find out.

"One is, the other got some saliva on it."

"I thought I dodged that."

"You got lucky," Tull reassured him as the cart jostled and began to move. There were only two bars of wood blocking the tail of the cart, it left his view open. John could easily see the battlefield as they pulled away.

But he regretted seeing it and laid his head back. A sight that explained such a horrible smell also left him feeling worse for knowing it.

There were piles of body remains, liquefied and still bubbling in select areas. An unfortunate part of his team had been turned into soup.

The child shuffled to the other end of the cart, doing well to not touch either John or the unconscious Defender.

"What's your name?" John asked, there was no response. "C'mon, I know you can talk."

"I don't have one." The boy answered, his voice was still so strange. John couldn't place it, though.

"Joey." One guy said.

"No way." Lawrence shut him down immediately. "It's gotta be something impressive, y'know? He survived getting eaten by a worm."

John thought of Mary then. "What about... an angel's name?" He suggested, sparking the longest argument about names he'd been part of since Sam.