Dean and Sam had been tracking the hellhounds for a couple of days now. Normally they wouldn't have bothered, hell, even known where to look, but Crowley had contacted them and said that there was a new player in town who had somehow managed to wrest control of some of the hounds away from the very perturbed King of Hell. Dean had been about to tell Crowley exactly what he could do with his information (which Sam was pretty sure was anatomically impossible), but Cas had chosen that moment to pop in and inform the brothers that he had felt something new, powerful, evil, and pissed off come to America around the same time as the hounds had gone rogue.
So here they were, driving through the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere (which was actually rural Maine, according to Sam), following the weird, compass-looking thing Crowley had given them to lead them to the hellhounds. Dean had been sulking the entire time, complaining loudly about how they should have just killed Crowley when he showed his ugly mug. Sam just shook his head, not bothering to remind his brother that the King of Hell was now an ally of sorts and that the hounds were hopefully going to lead them to their master, which apparently was another big bad intent on fucking with them. He just let Dean get all his bellyaching out so he'd be focused for the job.
Suddenly the compass let out a piercing whistle and started to glow. Dean, who had jumped at the sound, guided the Impala back over into its lane, swearing, and ordered Sam to check the damn thing.
"It looks like we're close," Sam said, taking ahold of the device gingerly and inspecting it. "Take the next left. And hurry, the glowing means the hounds are excited about something, and the only thing hellhounds get excited about is killing something."
Dean grunted and slammed his foot on the gas, cutting the wheel sharply so they skidded down a narrow, almost hidden dirt road that had appeared on their left. The Impala protested the abuse, but Dean handled her with surety of years of experience, sliding between trees that seemed to be trying to reach out and grab them. Sam, meanwhile, was loading the shotguns with salt shells.
"Put these on," he said, shoving a pair of slightly bent glasses at his brother while he put on their twin. "Cas said these will let us see the hounds." Dean grabbed the glasses and shoved them on while one-handedly steering around a boulder that he was sure had purposefully jumped out at them.
"Coming up on hounds!" Sam said, almost shouting to be heard over the sound of tires on dirt as he studied the compass. "There's no way they are this excited about seeing their master, they're attacking something. We're going to have to go in hot."
"Pump those bastards full of rock salt, then net 'em," Dean growled, remembering the Devil's Shoestring net Crowley had given them. "I don't want the damn things conscious when we bind them up. Why couldn't Crowley have just zapped them up again, instead of sending us in to subdue them?"
"He didn't want the big evil sensing him," Sam replied shortly, though he knew Dean's question had been mostly rhetorical. He braced himself against the dash, one hand on the door handle, the other tight around his shotgun.
They rounded the last corner to see a small wooden cabin tucked snugly in among the trees. In any other situation Sam would have taken a moment to admire how nice it looked, but his eyes were drawn to the pack of snarling shapes stalking around its perimeter, throwing themselves at the walls and windows, only to recoil with howls of pain.
"Motherfucker," Dean hissed, slamming on the Impala's brakes, shotgun already in hand. Together the brothers threw open their doors and began to fire into the mass of howling grey bodies. Growls turned to yips of pain, followed by more snarls as the hounds found the cause of their fallen compatriots. Most of the hounds stayed fixed on their goal of the cabin, but three broke away and charged straight for the Winchesters, only to be cut down by rock salt in the eyes.
When he paused to reload his gun, Sam heard shouts coming from inside the cabin. He glanced back over at the building, only to find that the hounds had finally forced the front door open.
"Dean!" he shouted, grabbing more shells, eyes fixed on the hounds pouring into the small building. The voices were louder and Sam's heart nearly stopped when a scream split the air. Dean turned at the noise and swore, jumping over the hood and running towards the cabin, Sam hot on his heels.
The brothers unloaded into the writhing grey mass of the pack, but when one fell, another just seemed to take its place. They were trying to get through an inner door, but something was holding them back. Then, suddenly, the door flew open. Dean was able to catch a glimpse of two figures standing side-by-side before silver light exploded outwards, blinding the hunters and causing the hellhounds to cringe and whimper in fear.
Dean grabbed the back of Sam's jacket and hauled him back out the front door as the pack of hounds scrambled back from the light. Then, before their very eyes, the light coalesced into two shapes. One was a creature that could only be described as a dragon, while the other was a fierce looking horse. The dragon lunged at the hounds, mouth wide, as the horse reared back and came down hard on the pack leader's skull, letting out an almost unearthly sounding scream of rage.
Dean continued to fire at the hounds, but he couldn't keep his eyes off the two silver animals that were fighting with them. He had no idea where they had come from, but they were cutting through the pack with almost frightening efficiency.
Finally the last hound fell under the deadly hooves of the glowing horse. The animals stopped and looked at Sam and Dean for a moment before fading away to mist. Dean blinked in astonishment, looking over to see that his brother was just as confused as him, before he was knocked to the ground by an unseen force.
"Who the hell are you and why are you here?" a cold male voice asked and Dean felt cold metal pressing against his throat. He blinked, trying to clear the spots from his vision. A pale, sharply-featured face swam into view, grey eyes glaring at the confused hunter. Dean could see the handle of the knife that was currently pressed to his throat out of the corner of his eye. He glanced to his right, searching for his brother. Sam was still on his feet, but his hands were up in the air and he had a look of alarm and confusion on his face as he was menaced by a very pregnant redheaded woman holding a shotgun.
"Easy, guy, we're not here to hurt you," Dean said quickly as the blond male pressed down harder with the knife. "We were tracking the things that just attacked you, that's all."
"Bull," the male spat, eyes flickering towards his companion for just a millisecond. "Who sent you? Was it my father? Did he really think that I'd trust some denim-wrapped Americans that mysteriously showed up on my door just in time to save me from his hounds?"
"Look, I don't know who the hell your father is," Dean replied, his patience running out pretty quickly. "My brother and I hunt things like those hellhounds for a living. And, seeing as we just saved your ass, I think a 'thank you' might be in order." The redhead snorted in laughter at Dean's snippy reply, eyes still trained on Sam.
"You know, he has a point," she said, obviously speaking to the male, who looked like he would take any excuse to slit Dean's throat at the moment. "Honestly, do you really think your dad would come down out of castle long enough to brush elbows with guys like this?"
"Maybe not," the blond replied grudgingly. "But still, they shouldn't have been able to find this place. They're Muggles, they wouldn't have been able to get here without help. So, once again, who sent you?"
"That would be me," a new voice said. Dean didn't know whether to groan or be thankful for Crowley's sudden appearance. He decided on the latter when the blond's head jerked up and his eyes widened in surprise, the pressure on the knife easing.
"Hello, Draco," the King of Hell said, smiling as he regarded the situation. "I have to say, I'm surprised to see you here. Even more surprised that you didn't tell me you were in town. My feelings are hurt."
"Crowley," replied the blond, who was apparently called Draco, nodding his head in greeting, grey eyes wary. "These two belong to you, then?"
"Oh I don't know if I'd say 'belong'," the demon drawled, ignoring Dean's noise of indignation. "Think of them more as independent contractors. Very good at what they do, but far too much of a nightmare to consider having around all the time. Though, I would appreciate it if you didn't decapitate that one, I'm going to need him in the coming months."
The blond looked down at Dean, who smiled cheekily. Scowling, the blond stood, allowing Dean to scramble to his feet and get a good look at his capture for the first time. The guy's hair was a shade of blond that seemed almost white and it fell into his eyes, as if he hadn't found time for a haircut recently. His clothes were common and cheap, but he held himself as if they were the finest silk. He had a beauty of a hunting knife in his hand and Dean could see what looked like the handle of an honest to goodness sword strapped to his side. A stick of polished wood was stuck in his belt on the other side, though for what purpose Dean could tell.
"You, plaid boy, walk over here towards us and stand beside your brother," Draco ordered, glancing at Sam. The younger Winchester nodded, moving slowly. The redhead moved with him, gun still aimed, until she was at the blond's side and Dean could feel Sam standing beside him.
"Oh, Draco, you naughty boy," Crowley said, seeing the redhead for the first time. "Red hair, freckles, fiery attitude, and far too many guts for her own good… She's a Weasley, isn't she?"
"Ginny Weasley, at your service," the redhead said, glancing in Crowley's direction and flashing him a saucy grin. "Now, I have no idea what's going on, but I believe that these two don't mean us any harm, so I'm going to lower my gun. Then I suggest someone starts explaining before the overly emotional pregnant woman decides to shoot you all."
"Gin…" Draco began to protest, but a sharp look silenced him. Ginny took her finger off the trigger, clicked on the safety, and reached up to tuck it into the sling holster that Dean now saw strapped across her back.
"Alright," she said, turning to Crowley and Draco. "Start talking."
"This is Crowley," Draco said, giving the demon, who had sketched a half-bow at the sound of his name, another wary look. "He was one of my father's business associates, but he left the fold when I was young. He's a demon, though intelligence says that now he's King of Hell."
"Yes, lovely little promotion it was," Crowley replied, smiling and stepping forward to take Ginny's hand, raising it up to brush a gentle kiss across the back of her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Weasley. I have to say, I'm surprised to see my godson living in sin with a Weasley of all people. It seems like the rumors are true, you really have defected, haven't you, Draco?"
"I have no use for my father's wars or politics," the blond replied stiffly, shifting closer to his redheaded companion. "Unfortunately he did not take kindly to my views, nor who I chose to associate with, so we decided it was best to settle elsewhere."
"Meaning the bastard intended to torture me to death, but Draco wouldn't tell him where I was, so I had to break into Death Eater headquarters to rescue his fool ass and we're hiding here until the regime falls," Ginny said, looking at Draco affectionately before turning back to Crowley.
"Beauty and bravery," the demon king said, smiling at the young woman with something close to real respect in his eyes. "No wonder Draco likes you. So, I'm assuming that dear old Lucius was the one who high-jacked my hounds in an attempt to find you two, especially seeing as the little one Miss Weasley is carrying stands to inherit the entire Malfoy estate. That would explain the power I felt, I thought the flavor was familiar."
Draco opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment Ginny gasped in pain, one hand going to her ballooned stomach, the other reaching for something to brace herself on. In an instant Draco had her in his arms, one hand stroking her hair, the other braced on her lower back as he murmured quietly to her. Ginny nodded and smiled up at him. Dean was surprised to see the sheer love in her brown eyes as she straightened, a hand coming up to touch the side of Draco's face, which miraculously softened as he bent to down to rest his forehead against hers. She tried to step away, but the blond wouldn't let her. Instead he turned to their guests, one arm still wrapped firmly around Ginny's waist.
"It has been pleasant talking to you all, but I'm afraid, for all my fiancée's bravado, she really must rest," he said formally, inclining his head. "Crowley, I will be in contact. I am grateful for everyone's assistance. Good day." With that he turned and lead Ginny, who was obviously trying not to sag or stumble, back to the cabin. Crowley watched them go, a small smile on his face. He was glad Draco had found someone like Ginny Weasley, someone who saw past his father's shadow and into the person beneath. The boy needed someone like that spitfire in his life.
"Someone want to explain to me what the hell just happened?" Dean asked, turning to look at Crowley. The King of Hell sighed. A demon's work was never done, it seemed. Tossing the hunters a clump of Devil's Shoestring, he nodded towards the unconscious hellhounds, saying, "You tie, I'll talk." He then proceeded to tell them all about the Malfoys and Weasleys and the war that had been raging in secret across the ocean for years.