That sonofabitch got out...He got out...HE GOT OUT!
This whole
thing--the stranger's frantic call, the demon sighting, this damned
place--all a set-up.
Furious thoughts flew through Dean's mind as
he ran. Had to find Sam before Gordon did...
He vaulted over a
mossy log and stopped, flattening to the cool, damp earth. He
listened--heard nothing. He tried to control his breathing,--his
lungs burned from the exertion. He lay in the ferns, waiting for a
telltale snap or rustle that would signal Gordon's presence. Again,
he held his breath and listened...
--quiet--
He carefully
looked round to survey his position. All around him, the poplars grew
in loose groups, with rocky ground between. Not great cover. A thin
undergrowth hid boggy patches. He could just make out the outline of
the roof of the shed, which meant his car was to the left--not too
far.
He needed bullets. His .44 was spent-- useless. If he could
just get to the damn car...
He cursed Sam for not answering
his cell., then felt panic rise again--maybe he couldn't
answer...
Dean crept forward a few feet, testing his momentary
safety. F--king Gordon. How the hell was he loose?!
Good...a little closer to the car--to sanctuary. He crept forward again, skillfully avoiding making any sounds.
Dean was well equipped
to move with stealth--his dad had drilled them in such skills.
But
Gordon was no ordinary pursuer. He was a hunter,--with all the same
instincts and abilities the Winchesters relied on.
He paused again. Still no sound.
The silence was shattered by the sound
of his cell. He quickly flipped it open and whispered "Sam?"
He
was relieved to hear his brother's tense voice.
"Where are you?" Sam whispered.
"'Bout 300 yards west of the car." He looked around quickly for some landmark. "Do you see that big dead birch?" --(yes)-- "--about 20 feet from it. "Where are you?"
Sam was almost at the car. "Do you see him?"
"Not for about ten minutes"
said Dean. He continued his creeping toward his goal..
"Watch
your back, Sammy. That bastard's good with that crossbow. He
was--"
Dean didn't have a chance to finish his warning.
A bolt struck him hard in the side of his right knee, passing through
it--the wicked flanges of the steel head protruding from the other
side.
The force of the blow sent him crashing down through the
undergrowth with a strangled shout. He rolled several times, until
his back landed hard against a splintered trunk, winding him. His
cell, still open, landed in the damp earth a few yards away.
He
lay with his back against the tree, trying to breathe. The solid
agony from his leg disoriented him--he shook his head, trying to
think,-- to assess. He reached down to the knee and felt the
protruding shaft. "Sonofabitch...!"
He couldn't
think--the pain was suffocating--couldn't catch his breath. He
groaned and desperately
tried to position his leg to somehow
lessen the hurt,-but the bolt was wedged firmly between the
bones--every movement ground them against it.
All the while, Sam listened helplessly. He heard the crashing, the yell. He could hear his brother's laboured breathing. He yelled his name into the phone over and over..
--breathe
in...breathe out...breathe in...
.Dean could hear Sam's
anxious voice emanating from the brush near him, but he dared not
draw attention to himself by attempting to retrieve his cell.. He
figured his crash and yell were enough of a spectacle--but Gordon
didn't necessarily know exactly where he landed. He stayed still. He
wished Sam would shut up--his voice was like a beacon that Gordon
could follow right to him.
He knew he was a sitting duck--had
to think--to think--
He looked around for
something--anything--with which to defend himself. All he could reach
was a fist sized rock, but he gripped it like a drowning
man,--expecting to have to brain his adversary with it--David and
Goliath style.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, nausea threatening to overtake him. God he hoped Sam was alright.
When he opened his eyes again, his heart sank. Gordon stood before him. He had been deafened by the hissing sound in his ears--hadn't even heard his approach.
Gordon lowered the crossbow and laughed at him. "That was easy. ...Bit rusty, are you Dean?!" He glanced down at the knee. "Ooh...sorry about that. Was aiming for your head."
Dean grimaced in reply. He prayed Sam was still on the line.
Gordon continued.. "You know... I always liked you, Dean. You and I--we're really the same. But you're blind, man. Couldn't see your brother for the monster he is. I'd have left you alone... But prison--well it changes you, Dean. I'm not a forgiving man anymore. I am gonna kill your brother. But I'm kinda pissed at you, too."
"Go to hell, you bastard...!"
spat Dean. " If you so much as look at Sam--"
Gordon
cut him off. "Shut up, you arrogant jackass. Look at you--what
are you gonna do??"
Dean glared back. "You under-estimate him. I guarantee you, Sam will finish this."
"Well--" Gordon said flatly. "I doubt it." He raised the crossbow. Squeezed the trigger slowly. "Oh and Dean...you go to hell."
And
Dean felt a second bolt viciously slam into his chest. The force of
it--point blank--shattered his shoulder blade and embedded firmly in
the trunk beneath him. The stone rolled uselessly out of his
hand.
Wide-eyed with shock, he looked down in disbelief at the
shaft protruding from under his jacket, then back up to Gordon's
face. He tried to speak, but a roaring blackness overtook him.
Sam
had heard the entire exchange. Dean had made no sound after Gordon's
last words. Sam didn't know if that was good or bad. Sweat and tears
blinded him as his ears strained desperately for some affirmation
that his brother was still alive. All he heard was Gordon's crunching
retreat through the undergrowth.
He didn't dare call Dean's name
now --couldn't risk alerting Gordon to his only link to Dean.
All Sam wanted to do was race to Dean's position--but he knew it would be suicide for both of them. Had to quell that instinct and get to the car,-- get more clips--a rifle. Had to get to Gordon--. He couldn't save Dean unless that threat was neutralized. He moved warily in the direction of the impala, covering the terrain as fast as he dared.
Sam stopped,-- listening. Something caught his attention. He realized it was his own name he heard.. Someone--it wasn't Dean-- was calling him.
Gordon. Taunting him--inviting him to show himself.
Telling him Dean was dead.
..
Someone--it wasn't Dean-- was calling him. Gordon. Taunting
him--inviting him to show himself.
Telling him Dean was dead.
No, No, No--NO!!
"Come on Sammy. --You know I'm not lying to you. Dean is gone. -- Trying to save you. It's all your doing, Sam. Come on out--you gotta face this. You know the Devil's in you-- Join your brother, Sammy..."
It was
the last "sammy" that did it. No one calls him that but
Dean--nobody earned that right like his brother had. Sam felt a dam
burst within himself--didn't care if he had no weapon--he'd tear
Gordon apart with his own two hands. An un-earthly howl came out of
him-- he launched himself in the direction of the voice. He had no
concern for his own safety anymore. Sam had never felt so murderous.
There was no stopping this--!
Gordon
was taken aback by the strange sound and sudden crashing movement
headed his way. He struggled to get off a shot--missed--tried to
place another arrow. He fumbled, --looked up,-- dropped the
bow,--frantically tried to pull his gun from his jacket--
He saw
Sam's face--the rictus of hate on his normally placid features. Threw
his arms up--
Sam crashed headlong into his enemy. The two rolled over and over, --thrashing wildly through the brush--faces whipped by branches—bruised by the sharp stones--each trying desperately to gain a foothold, --any advantage. Gordon got his hands around Sam's throat, --dug his thumbs in deep. --Choking,--Sam clawed at and gripped Gordon's ears and bashed his head against the ground. Gordon managed a vicious knee to Sam's stomach--Gagging, Sam brought his elbow down into Gordon's throat. At that moment, his enemy was stilled. Sam pushed the suddenly limp, unresisting weight off him, rolled over and staggered to his feet. He stood, panting, looking down at the prone figure. --snarled a curse-- then hauled off and gave it a solid kick in the groin. He wished the bastard was awake for that one.
Heaving,-he tore his attention away. He wiped
his face with both hands, --worked at calming his thoughts
down--they still whirled in an adrenalin-fueled chaos.
--Dean!
Had to locate Dean—
He had the presence of mind to bind Gordon's hands and feet before leaving him.
Sam searched his pockets for his cell--no luck... -- he must have lost it during the struggle. Near exhaustion, he criss-crossed the immediate area but still could not locate it. Panic welled up in his breast--tears of frustration stinging his eyes. He'd lost his only link….
He sat down--head in his hands--collecting his wits. What had Dean said--he was somewhere near some tree—a big dead birch. Raising his head--Sam scanned the surroundings for a landmark that fit. Saw a likely candidate in the distance. He got up slowly, took a deep and shaky breath and set off in that direction. Had to hurry--light was failing.
Dean was aware of nothing. His head hung limply against his chest--cheek actually resting on the fletched end of the arrow. But he was still breathing--shallow rasping breaths. He would have slid sideways, but the bolt held him tightly against the rough bark of the tree. There was surprisingly little blood on his shirt--the stout shaft effectively plugged its own entrance wound. His back was wetter, his body weight resting heavily on the shaft where it exited.
Sam crashed through the brush towards the dead birch, stumbling—careless of where his feet landed. More than once his footing failed, and he slid, tumbling against the moss and stones, adding new scrapes to his bruises But nothing deterred his forward momentum--and he reached his goal, winded, --damp with sweat. His urgent study of the surroundings showed him nothing. He rested for a moment--hand against the trunk--and remembered the conversation with Dean--what had he said? West of the car--20 feet from the tree.
He began to scour the most- likely area--panicking that light would fail--
The sight of his brother froze him in his tracks.
There was Dean—lying oddly, with his shoulders
against the base of a tree, unmoving. Sam couldn't see what held him
there.
"Dean…!" he shouted—
