Sam squinted in the dark, trying to make sense of the road before him. The headlights of the Impala barely made a dent in the surrounding darkness. As his eyes flashed nervously toward the rearview mirror, he silently cursed fate.
The sight of his brother slumped on the rear seat, while blood poured from his chest was a little too familiar. It brought back a million memories that Sam had hoped to forget. All he needed was John sitting in the passenger seat to complete the nightmare.
The fact that his brother's fate rested squarely in his hands was killing him. If Sam had his choice, he'd happily exchange places. Lying ripped to shreds by a werewolf, not to mention freezing from exposure to an icy mountain stream, sounded ideal compared to trying to find Dean help in the middle of a flood of biblical proportions. Unfortunately, the elder hunter hadn't put it up for discussion before he had taken it upon himself to throw his body in front of Sam just as the creature had sprung.
A reflection of light on the black macadam had Sam suddenly stepping on the brake. Well, standing on the brake would probably be a more apt description, given the flood of water he'd had already driven through tonight. Once the vehicle had been brought to a shuddering halt, he put the car in park and tried to make sense of what he could see through the windshield. With a curse, he stepped from the car, into a deluge of rain and walked forward.
The headlights clearly illuminated the stream of water that was sweeping across the road. Sam edged forward, until the soles of his boots were submerged. He strained his eyes, trying to calculate the force of the current. The flood, running fast and furious, carried all kinds of debris. Tree limbs, brush, two by fours, trash and as Sam watched, even the bloated body of a rabbit.
Frustration and fury caused him to curse once more as he pounded his fist on the hood of the Impala. He had been herded in this direction by area wide flooding and now he found himself trapped. Even if Dean's car was part boat and could manage the deep water, the current was likely to push the Impala off the road and down the steep shoulder.
Sam walked back to the car, ignoring the rain that ran in rivers down his back and face. A quick swipe with his jacket sleeve worked to clear his vision if only for a moment. His own discomfort was something easily ignored compared to the thought of Dean dying in the backseat of his beloved Impala.
They needed shelter and they needed it now. He had the supplies to help his brother, if only he could find at least the basic necessities. Heat, at the moment, topped the list.
He paused beside the driver's side door, the fear he had failed his brother nearly overwhelming him. Needing a moment to compose himself, he turned toward the road they had just traveled. There had to be something, anything. A house, a shack, something that would be dry, or, at the very least, wasn't actively flooded.
It was then a movement, in the woods bordering the road, caught his eye. Sam eased his handgun from the small of his back and waited. The car's headlights barely pierced the thick underbrush, making it difficult to pinpoint the danger. Then the rustle of leaves drew his attention toward a small clearing only thirty feet from where he stood. There, staring back at him was a pair of eyes.
As Sam met the reflective gaze, he considered simply shooting. After all, the eyes that glowed in his direction were obviously not human. That combined with the werewolf still roaming the area had him lifting his gun and taking a bead on the animal. Given the Winchesters version of luck, Sam knew that safe was definitely better than sorry.
As if understanding his intention, the creature suddenly darted toward him. Sam stood steady, drawing the creature closer, intent on making his shot count. Focused on the shot, it took a couple seconds for Sam to understand what the creature's high-pitched bark meant.
At last, it sank in, causing him to lower his weapon as he watched a large black and silver dog bound to the edge of the road with series of barks and growls. Even Sam's limited amount of dog experience let him appreciate the lack of threat in the animal's movement and noises. The huge creature was actually dancing in place, with a doggy grin that was undeniable.
A burst of hope flared up inside Sam as he watched the capering. Even in the dim light provided by the headlights, he could see that the dog was well cared for. He showed no signs of neglect or abuse and even wore a bright blue collar around his thick neck. A collar meant the dog belonged to someone, a collar meant they might be closer to civilization than Sam had thought.
Unconcerned with the wetness of the road, Sam tucked away his gun and took a knee. Before he could call the dog to his side, the brute charged him, sliding neatly to a halt only inches from the young hunter. Another whine and a head-butt, nearly strong enough to knock Sam off balance, made it clear that the pup was happy to meet him.
Sam couldn't help but chuckle as he reached out and drug his hand through the dog's thick black coat. "Hey, there, boy. You lost?" Sam asked as he moved to grab the blue collar.
Before he could get a grip, the dog gave another low whine and darted away. "Easy," Sam breathed as he inched toward the animal again. For every step he took forward, the beast took two backward. Each time the hunter paused, the dog would stop.
It wasn't until a particularly rough gust of wind slammed Sam, that he realized he was over fifty feet from the car. The water he'd earlier considered driving through was now lapping at the front tires of Impala. Dog forgotten, Sam turned and trotted back toward the car. He couldn't help but berate himself for allowing the animal to capture his interest while Dean suffered.
He was level with the bumper of the car when he felt a tug on the sleeve of his jacket. Surprise caused him to stop, as he glanced down to find the dog latched onto his arm. As soon as he stopped, the animal began to tug, forcing Sam backward.
Anger began to override his earlier interest in the dog. With a curse that would have made Dean proud, he tried to jerk his arm free only to have the dog tighten its grip.
Anxiety for his brother had Sam reaching for his gun once more. He didn't intend to shoot Fido, but he was certain a couple shots in the air would be more than enough to scare the creature off. Sam never got the chance.
Just as he went for the gun, the dog released him. The sudden lack of pressure had the youngest Winchester flailing to catch his balance as he stumbled backward. A last ditch effort to avoid taking a header into the undergrowth had Sam reaching out to grab anything that would halt his momentum.
His hand brushed against a cold metal shape. With a groan of effort, Sam latched onto the object and just barely managed to keep his feet. Cursing the dog, the rain, his stubborn older brother and everything else he could think of, Sam paused for a moment trying to catch his breath.
He stood still, resting his cheek against the rectangular shape that he was hugging for a full minute before he understood just what he'd grabbed. Unable to see, he used his hands to confirm that he had indeed fallen into a mailbox. Following his line of thought, Sam dropped to the ground and began to run his hands over the ground looking for some small sign that they were saved. There, he thought, as his hands dragged over the familiar feel of blacktop. He'd found a driveway.
A low bark drew his attention away from his find toward the dog's black shape. The animal seemed poised to run, but hesitant to leave. As Sam sprinted toward the car and his brother, he was thankful for the dog's sudden appearance. If not for the creature, he would never have noticed the driveway.
Focused on finding help, Sam slipped into the driver's side and said, "Sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to be gone so long, but I think I found us help."
Dean's lack of reply didn't even register as Sam slammed the car into reverse and backed the big machine down the road. Once he drew even with the dog, who was neatly marking the opening, he hit the brake and changed gears.
He refused to allow himself to consider that the help he so desperately needed might not be at the end of the long dark driveway. What if's would do Dean no good, and besides Sam was out of options.
As soon as he nosed the car onto the drive, the dog took off. In the lead, he ran full out, drawing Sam deeper into the dark woods. At first, as the car began to dip downward, he feared he had exchanged the fat for the fire. It seemed unlikely that the flooding, which was so widespread, wouldn't have blocked his access.
However, no sooner had the thought occurred to him, they began to climb. The blacktop snaked out in front of the Impala leading them higher and higher. The dog raced full out, his head low to the ground as his legs drove him on faster and faster.
Hesitation had Sam keeping pace with the animal. He was certain the dog would have surrendered its spot on the roadway if he pushed, but something about the dog had him keeping his speed in check.
At last, the ground leveled out. Taking the next curve a bit too fast, Sam was forced to slam on the breaks when the drive suddenly opened up into a large parking area. On the far side of the lot, facing the driveway sat a rustic looking log cabin.
The house was aglow with light, a warm buttery color that had Sam feeling warmer just for seeing it. A wide front porch dominated the cabin and a set of steps led down to a short path. The dog now stood on the top step, as if waiting for Sam to get a move on. Ready to do just that, the young hunter pulled up as close as he could to the stairs and shut down the car.
Experience urged him to do some recon before he hauled his brother out into the cold night air. He had no clue what his welcome would be, or if it was even safe. Fear, however, overrode his good sense as he quickly climbed out and opened the rear door.
It had been nearly thirty minutes since he'd fished Dean out of the water and the thin blanket his brother was wrapped in wasn't enough. He would get help, and regardless of what the owners might think, he'd be getting it here.
"Come on, bro," Sam ground out as he slid Dean's limp form from the back seat.
Dean's answering groan caused Sam to harden his determination. He put his shoulder to his brother's waist and shifted his weight heaving his brother's ice-cold body into a fireman's carry. He hated causing Dean pain, but he needed a free hand just in case he met resistance at the door.
As he started up the stairs, the dog began to growl. His cries grew more and more intense the closer Sam came. Wary of the dog's behavior, Sam drew his gun and resettled his brother. Dean's shaking form had Sam more than ready to do whatever was necessary to get him help.
However, the dog surprised him once more. As Sam stepped onto the porch, the animal made no effort to stop him. Instead, he walked alongside of the hunter, stopping only once they were both standing in front of the huge wooden door.
Before Sam could knock, the dog carefully wrapped its mouth around a rope that hung suspended next to the door. Two quick tugs of its mouth had the small bell that the rope was attached to ringing out in a peal.
A moment later the door swung wide. Sam noted the young woman standing in its opening, framed by an amber glow, and suddenly felt lightheaded. The wave of warmth that seeped out of the opening quickly convinced him that he'd done the right thing. Voluntary or not, they'd finally found shelter.
888
With a contented sigh, Faith sank deeper into her overstuffed chair and basked in the heat that was pouring out of the large stone fireplace. The fireplace, the focal point for the entire room, was a godsend given the cold damp that kept trying to seep into the sturdy log house.
The freezing April rain had been falling for close to three days now, flooding the entire area and causing power outages in most of the county. Normally active, she couldn't help but enjoy the enforced idleness. She'd spent her days, content in the knowledge that her generator was gassed up and good to go, reading and relaxing.
Though, the mound of fluff that purred contentedly near her feet seemed happy to oblige her lazy mood, her dog had insisted on a bit more excitement. Frisky, her Alaskan malamute, had gone out over a half-hour ago for her evening ramble and had yet to return.
The dog's tardiness didn't worry her too much. Faith's cabin was the only sign of civilization for miles around and Frisky had proven to be much too sensible to engage in trouble. In fact, the dog rarely wandered farther than the clear patch of land that surrounded the house unless Faith was with her.
Confident that Frisky was most likely curled up under the porch enjoying the cool air. Faith leaned forward and gently prodded the lump that lay sprawled across the braided rug. "Up and at 'em, Church. I've gotta toss another log on."
Rather than stand, the cat rubbed his whiskered face against Faith's hand and increased his purring.
"Nope, no smooth talking me. You've gotta move unless you want us all to freeze tonight," Faith chided even as she scratched the cat's chin.
Church, never one to pass up an opportunity for some loving, stretched out his massive paws, and began to knead the blanket beneath him.
Faith couldn't help but chuckle as her fingers became wet with drool. "You know drooling when you purr is a nasty habit. You ought to do something about that."
The cat seemed unconcerned with Faith's reprimand as his drooling increased along with his purring. Content for the moment to lavish some affection on her obviously love starved pet, Faith nearly jumped out of her skin when the porch bell began to ring.
"Okay, you dopey, cat. Now you have to let me up." Faith's words suited her motion as she gained her feet, careful not to step on the cat that was now meowing for more attention.
As the bell sounded once more, Faith had to grin. Like most of the tricks Frisky knew, teaching her to ring the doorbell had been fairly easy and it never failed to make Faith smile.
Throwing the door open wide, Faith called out, "Okay, okay you, big mutt, you done playin'-?"
Faith choked off the words as she realized that Frisky wasn't alone.