Tailypo

                                    

                                          
Dean took a quick glance around the corner. Sam followed suite behind him, and was equally as confused. There was nothing broken in the room. Nothing at all, not even anything that could have made that shattering sound - it all looked perfect. Perfect, until the massive double, wooden doors slammed behind them and then refused to open again. The brothers briefly loomed at each other, and then moved into the middle of the room and started to set up a circle of salt. Whilst Sam poured the mineral onto the floor, Dean pointed a shotgun with rock salt pellets around the room at the various shadowy cloaks on the walls. 
                          
Sam yelped suddenly as a shape darted out of the blackness and violently threw him backwards against the wall. Crap. He hadn't had time to finish the salt wall. Two massive, red eyes blared down on him, and a maw filled with needles for teeth opened above him and grinned in childish excitement. 'Where's my Tailypo?' It asked, the bloodied stump where it's appendage used to be twitching and quivering behind it. Sam didn't even need to think twice before jamming a fistful of salt into the thing's face. It hissed like an angry cat, and recoiled. Dean slammed an iron fire-poker down into it, and the creature vanished with a wisp of grey smoke and red sparks. 
'Well it's definitely a spirit.' Sam panted. 
                          
The wooden doors created open again, and then a spectral barking filled the house. 'That's odd.' Dean stated. This barking quickly turned into something that sounded like fearful wining, and then a final yelp as a painful thud emanated from upstairs. The two hunters clutched their iron weaponry, and sprinted up the beige carpeted staircase. They found blood on the walls. Scratches in the words 'Where is it' were repeated about 500 times over every surface. Sam ran his fingers along the scratched walls. 'These are new. And the whole thing stinks of ozone.' 
                          
Two red eyes once again lit up at the end of the darkened hallway, and the same needle-laden mouth smiled beneath them. Dean and Sam pumped their salt bullets at the shape, and heard another hiss as they hit their target. However, they were quickly disorientated when three dogs ran out of seemingly nowhere from behind them. Caught off guard, Dean fell backwards - leaving Sam to insert more salt bullets into the phantoms, and watch them disappear. Taking another look around, and then shivering as more ghostly scratches etched themselves onto the ceiling, Sam decided that they needed some back up. Helping Dean up, he took a quick look at his brother and then they both ran back for the stairs. 
                          
The hissing voice behind them laughed and cackled in delirium, and then it screamed - its unholy voice swimming through the entire house like a shoal of dark and stinging fish.
                          
Witnessing a black sludge - ectoplasm - start slowly dripping from the doorframe, and swiftly put themselves on the other side of it. Running for the car, Dean planted his foot down onto the gas pedal and the Impala roared against the dirt outside the house. With a burst of speed, it surged down the driveway and out onto the open road. 
                          
'What the hell, man?' Dean muttered, one hand on the wheel and the other on his head to try to stem the pulsing headache.