A/N: This is the promised sequel to Make it Home. Obviously, you should read that story first, but the salient points are {spoilers} Eileen didn't get killed by hellhounds, and Sam and Eileen start pursuing a romantic relationship. {end spoilers}
I dearly love Eileen, and firmly believe that she should be Sam's happy ending. So yeah, this story is 110% Saileen. (Seriously, this ship just sails itself; its name literally sounds like "sailing".)
Plenty of angst, you know me. Warnings for language (blame Dean) and drama (also blame Dean). Chapter-specific warnings will be posted (this chapter has show-level monster violence). I don't own Supernatural, unfortunately for me and fortunately for the characters. Other fandoms/quotes you recognize aren't mine either. Reviews are love!
~Always Keep Fighting ; You Are Not Alone~
Eileen didn't know the rawhead was there until it slammed into her side. She managed to keep her feet, barely, and elbowed it hard enough in the gut that it let her go. On a usual hunt, she would have put up several wards and sigils that would have warned her of a monster's approach before it came into physical contact. She hadn't had the time to place them this time because Sam had been… distracting… and they'd found the rawhead's swampy lair later than originally planned. Dean had concluded that she wouldn't need the early warning system anyway because she had two hearing hunters at her side.
Eileen made a mental note to never listen to the Winchester's arguments ever again as one of the rawhead's powerful kicks hit her stomach and sent her sprawling in the mushy ground. She scrambled to regain her footing as it loomed over her. Luckily, Sam chose that moment to tackle the rawhead from the side. Eileen got to her feet as he grappled with the monster. She went to join the fray, but only succeeded in distracting Sam long enough for the rawhead to clock him on the temple. The tall hunter went down in an uncoordinated splatter of limbs and did not rise. Eileen pulled her boot knife and scratched a hasty rune into the closest tree. The rawhead was thrown backward several feet as she triggered the spell with a bit of blood from her split lip. Waste not, want not and all that jazz.
Eileen headed towards her fallen lover, but Dean caught her eye by waving his flashlight.
"Get the kids out of here!" he ordered, pointing to the small group of cowering children. The rawhead had made a crude sort of cage at the waterside. They had freed the kids earlier, but the monster's untimely appearance had interrupted the evacuation. The terrified children were cowering far too close to the fight for comfort. They looked one good scare away from spooking and scattering into the dangerous swamp. Eileen hesitated, torn between assisting the children and helping Sam.
"Rules," Dean signed with a glare before charging towards the rawhead. Right. The Rules. An ever-growing, often illogical set of guidelines for living and working with the Winchesters. One of which was that Dean would save Sam, Sam would save Eileen, and Eileen would focus on staying alive because 'I'm-the-epitome-of-hunting-Dean' could apparently save himself. Bullshit. She wasn't some helpless maiden, and Dean was far from invulnerable.
Nevertheless, Eileen slipped her knife back into its boot sheath and ran over to the frightened kids. She could feel slime squelching underneath her feet. Why did monsters seem to prefer filthy lairs? The blood and gore was part of the job, granted, but swamp scum felt like overkill. It would be nice to have a clean hunt once in a while.
Most of the kids had tear tracks through the mud on their faces, and almost all of their mouths were open in screams that she couldn't hear: she'd left her hearing aids in the car so they couldn't be damaged by the inevitable water exposure. Not a single one of the five children were older than ten. They made quite a pitiable sight. That was going to change: she knew these kids were fearless warriors. She just had to remind them.
Eileen pointed to the eldest-looking, a girl in pigtails and overalls. She'd been helpful in keeping the other children quiet during their initial escape.
"I have a quest for you, my brave valkyrie," Eileen told her. Her real name was Valerie, but Eileen had learned long ago that while children didn't follow orders well, they were great at following the rules of play-pretend. If Eileen said Valerie was a fearless viking warrior, a brave valkyrie she would be, monsters be damned. Valerie straightened and gave a passable salute, falling back into the role she'd crafted earlier during their 'game'.
"Yes, my liege!"
"Take your noble troops and protect our wounded giant," Eileen gestured towards the still-unmoving Sam. "When he awakes he shall escort you to Valhalla and endless bowls of ice cream!"
"What 'bout the monster?" a gap-toothed boy spoke up. His name was Tom, but his persona was Galahed the Great. Not to be confused with the more famous Galahad, obviously.
"I swear to you, knight of the Roundest Table, I shall slay it," Eileen put a hand over her heart. "But in order to do so I need you to stay together. No one left behind! For Narnia!" She pumped her fist in the air.
"For Aslan!" the children chorused the battle cry energetically.
"Hurry now: the ice cream will melt if you do not hurry on your quest."
Ice cream, she'd also learned, was an excellent motivator. The children quickly splashed their way over to Sam. To her relief, he was starting to stir awake. Kids were easy enough to manage: give them a quest and they'd forget to be afraid. Give Sam someone to save, and he'd forget his own issues. Birds, meet stone.
Eileen dashed back to the main fight. Dean was down now, and he wasn't moving. She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. Invincible indeed.
"Hey you!" she yelled at the rawhead. It turned to face her and sneered. Dean had managed to break what passed as its nose, judging by the amount of blood dripping down its face.
Eileen had hunted rawhead before, but she was still surprised at how fast they were. Something that large and ungainly should lumber, not dash. The monster hit her like a freight train, and she felt her kidneys smack against some hard roots hiding underneath the mud. If she was lucky, she wouldn't be peeing blood tomorrow. The bruises were certainly going to be spectacular: how many times had the rawhead crashed into her tonight? Leathery fingers sought her throat, but she managed to get in a solid breath before the regularly scheduled strangling began.
Due to the dangers of high voltages in a aqueous environment, none of them had brought their tasers. The standing plan was to immobilize the monster by any means necessary before dragging it to a drier location for electrocution. Of course, that plan wasn't exactly ahem going to plan. Time for something a little more traditional.
Eileen groped in her pocket for the charm she'd prepared earlier. Hunters had to kill rawheads before tasers were common, after all. Despite her research to the contrary, Dean hadn't thought the spell would work safely either. But screw what Dean thought: he wasn't getting killed right now. She would do things her way. Her methods had kept her alive this long, no reason to change that now.
Eileen fought down the desperation rising as the monster pinned down her arms with its legs, stopping her search. No matter. The magic would theoretically be effective from a short distance, but it wouldn't harm a human unless they were directly touching the runestone. Theoretically.
In any case, Eileen was out of options. Her hunting partners were down and there was a group of kids to save. She gasped out the trigger word for the spell with the last of her oxygen. The last thing she saw was the rawhead's ghastly smile as her world faded to black.