Author's Name: Skag Trendy
Disclaimer: I own bugger all. Not even my own home, but then it's bloody difficult to own anything where I live. The States of the Island of Jersey don't much like Essex tossers like me coming in and stealing their jobs. I'm a foreigner….
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester, Gordon Walker, Sergeant Terry Morgan, and Captain Sadler (though hopefully not for long – I don't like this bloke).
Ok so I own Terry and Captain Sadler; that's a hard one to admit ….Terry is based on a combination of my Dad and my husband, both of whom are tough Essex bastards (both of them having a heavy load of Irish in them) but don't readily admit to it. Also there's a little bit of Chris Ryan and Sean Bean thrown in, just for good measure.
Captain Sadler is based on someone that I really hope I never have to meet again. 'Cos if I do I may have to smack 'im one…
Content: some violence, though nothing too bad, but mostly a lot of swearing.
Genre: I only have this to say: If you have a problem with it, then you probably shouldn't have been watching Supernatural in the first place….
Welcome to my first net-published fan fic. It's not complete. I just thought I'd warn you…..
I don't know when this is set, you'll have to figure that one out for yourselves. I'm just making it up as I go along.
So here goes…. (I can't believe I'm doing this….)
A Debt paid.
A Supernatural Fan Fiction
Sergeant Terry Morgan of the 22nd SAS regiment, sat on the bonnet of his crappy little rental and wondered.
He was stuck out in Canada, which admittedly wasn't the worst place he'd been stuck in, but it was gone 23:00 and he was seriously getting pissed off.
The rental was fucked, it was colder than a polar bear's jock strap, his orders to come here could be considered in a generous light as "somewhat dodgy", and now he had no wheels.
Normally he could have fixed the bastard, but not this time.
Too far gone.
Yeah, he thought to himself, come on yanks and pimp my fucking ride why don't ya?
So there he was, on some wooden bridge in the middle of fucking nowhere, with what appeared to be a scene from "The River Wild."
Terry sat there wondering what he'd really done to deserve this. The ciggy in his hand was burning away faster than he could smoke it in this cold night. He tried again to get a reception on his mobile phone, but to no avail.
Bollocks.
The only consolation he had was the look on his C.O's face when he didn't turn up for tomorrows briefing.
Not that he ever had any respect for his C.O. Captain Sadler. He was a man that liked to play things by the book, whereas Terry really couldn't be fucking bothered.
"Fuck the book." He whispered to himself. That was The Regiment way of things.
But mainly, it was because Sadler was a bastard. A real one.
Just as he was considering a brew up at the side of the road, Terry heard two things
The first one was a normal motor, probably a van. But it was revving too hard.
The second sound was beautiful. It was the sound of a perfectly honed V8 engine, also revving hard.
The duel sound rounded the corner. A plain white van, closely followed by a gleaming black Chevy. A 1967 Impala in fact. Now Terry was more of a fan of supercars with fucking great six or seven litre V12 engines, but this….
Terry breathed deeply. This was fucking sweet mate.
Dean was desperately trying to keep up with the van. He tried to swallow the fear that was coursing through him, but it was hard. His brother was in there. Gordon had caught up with them at last, and now Sam's life hung in the balance.
There was a bridge coming up.
Dean took a chance that he normally wouldn't have considered. He reached for the H&K and leaned out the window. Struggling to keep the Impala in a straight line he aimed…..
…and opened fire.
The rear off-side wheel of the van exploded under the impact, rocking the van a little, but it carried on going. Then Dean fired again and another wheel blew out.
The van came to a shuddering halt, but amazingly didn't crash.
Dean heaved a sigh of relief.
Terry watched with interest as the scene unfolded. It wasn't his job to get involved, after all.
His job was to stay in the background.
Here was something different. This didn't feel right to Terry, and he was seriously considering a retreat into the forest that surrounded the area.
But he stayed a while longer just to see how things played out, after all, no one seemed to notice him.
I'm obviously doing my job right, he thought. In spite of what Captain Fuckwit had tried to tell him.
The door to the van burst open, revealing two men. The young white guy was clearly the hostage, with his hands tied behind his back and the knife stuck against his throat. The black guy was obviously the abductor, given that he was the one holding the knife to the man's jugular.
Well that bit was fucking obvious.
"Sam!" yelled the man jumping out from the Chevy.
Terry could tell that the hostage was in no real position to call back.
So he just continued his vigil.
"Dean." Terry heard the other bloke whisper loudly, and the hostage went up in Terry's estimation. You've got guts mate.
The black bloke tightened the knife against his prisoner's neck, causing him to release a strangled gasp. "I told you what would happen Dean!" Yelled the black man. "Now drop your fucking weapon, now!" His eyes looked manic.
The guy called Dean raised his hand in a placating gesture, then slowly crouched and placed his gun on the ground. "Ok Gordon, now let him go". His voice was perfectly controlled but the Sergeant could tell that he was under some serious stress. Dean just as slowly straightened up.
There's your first mistake, thought Terry, calmly watching the events unfold. You should have taken him out whilst you had the chance. You never dropped your weapon, never gave your only shot away….
Terry watched as the bloke, Gordon, and his hostage Sam, moved to the edge of the bridge. Sam was struggling to maintain his cool at this point but Terry could see the lad was scared. It was in the way he held himself, though there were no street lights and Terry couldn't really make out the faces all that well by the car beams.
In spite of all that, something was starting to click in Terry's tired brain, but he was given no real time to think about it. The wooden railing had been there too long without proper care, and now it had the weight of two fully grown men leaning heavily against it. Suddenly the rotted wood gave way.
Relinquishing his hold on Sam and the knife, Gordon reached out a hand at the last moment and grasped onto the remains of the bridge, but the younger man didn't stand a chance. Terry watched as Sam took a tumble into the raging rapids below.
Barely giving it a thought, Terry took off and leapt over the railing on his side of the bridge. If he had taken the time to think about it then he probably wouldn't have bothered.
It was a long drop, and already he could feel the pounding of the river deep below him.
Vaguely he heard Dean yelling in panic and frustration, but this was soon drowned out by the booming of the water.
Terry found himself plunging into what felt like ice, and then was surrounded by a heavy gloom.
Fuck a duck it's cold, he thought.
The water was mostly melted snow coming off the mountains so he really shouldn't have been too surprised at the icy temperature.
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"Sammy!!"
Dean had watched in horror as his kid brother had fallen from the bridge. His instincts were a little torn; a small part of him, the unreasonable part, wanted to go after Gordon, who was even now struggling to climb back up to safety, but mainly he wanted to go to Sam. That was when he'd noticed the guy on the other side of the bridge leap off the hood of his car and follow Sam into the river.
Dean didn't hesitate. He started running along the river bank, his heart pounding.
Dean was afraid of a number of things now. Chiefly, the drop, the water and the fact that his brother couldn't swim, what with his hands tied behind his back. But also that Sam was now in the water with someone else, who in Dean's considered opinion had to be just a little in sane to have jumped into the river in the first place. If that guy was in with Gordon then big trouble lay ahead for Sam.
Great. Sam's either gonna drown or be murdered by a psycho.
So far this gig was really starting to suck balls.
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Sam had tried his best to keep his head above the water-line, but it was proving too big a task. And he was tiring. He kept kicking his legs and moving his body, trying desperately to breathe but each time he got a face full of water. And it was seriously starting to slow him down. The river was moving too fast for him and the cold was already setting in. In fact, it had the moment he'd hit the water, and that impact alone had driven his breath away.
Terry surged upwards in the water, and finally his head broke the surface just as Sam went under again.
He could hear someone shouting, and did his best to ignore it as he surged forward. He managed to glance around him and saw Sam had come up ahead of him, just as he was about to go down again.
Using the force and direction of the river, Terry managed to get close enough to the bloke and wrap his arms around his waist. With Sam facing forward, Terry kept a firm a grip.
"It's alright mate" Terry yelled above the raging noise, knowing even as he said it that was stretching a point really thin. I don't 'alf talk some shit at times.
Dean, running alongside the river, had seen the guy in the water grab Sam and he started to panic. If this guy was an associate of Gordon's then his little brother was dead meat.
But what he witnessed next didn't suggest that. The stranger was trying to keep Sam's head above the water, and Dean felt a small surge of relief.
It was short lived.
Terry looked at the path facing them. He had tried to talk to Sam, to find out what had lead to all this, but the deafening roar of the river put pay to that plan.
Instead what he saw ahead was……going to be a problem. He could hear Sam choking on the water as it swept them along and thought about what was coming up. Terry decided that a change in tactics was due, and so used the current to turn them around.
And with Terry's body becoming a human shield for Sam, he slammed into the hard surface.
Dean had been following them all the way, desperately trying to get ahead as well as coming up with a plan. And he was failing miserably on both counts. He saw the stranger in the water swiftly turn himself around so that his back was facing the direction they were headed.
What the f…..?
The Dean saw it. The huge boulder loomed on the angry water, with sharp edges and, above all, an extremely hard surface. The two men in the water were being pulled towards it at an alarming rate.
The stranger struck the rocks.
Dean winced in sympathy.
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Terry gasped and took a few ragged breaths. He really wished he wasn't here.
A nice place in Thailand came to mind. Preferably with plenty of beer and lot's of young women with barely any clothes on.
But this was fucking bollocks!
And vaguely realized that he'd shouted that out loud. But at least he and the yank he was holding onto were in some kind of stable position.
Terry became aware that someone was shouting at him.
Not a good thing to do to a man who was on the verge of beating the living shit out of something.
Luckily, the water wasn't so violent in its movement here; it was a small lagoon of sanity in one big fucking insane river.
Terry looked up into the green-eyed gaze of Dean, and swore viscously. His back hurt, so did his ribs, and he knew that someone, somewhere, was in for a severe telling off.
Sam choked again and gasped "c-can you untie me p-please?"
Terry reached below the water line and just managed to grasp the knife in his right boot. Bringing it up he severed the rope binding the hands of his young charge. Sam shivered whilst rubbing his wrists, and turned to look at the man who had somehow prevented his watery death.
"Thanks." His grateful smile fading, Sam saw the look on the man's face and wondered just how thankful he should be.
The guy was clearly in a bad mood; his eyes carried that maddened gleam that he'd often seen in his brother's eyes when he'd truly pissed him off. The stranger must have been in his mid-thirties, with short blonde hair and slate-blue eyes.
He tried again, though he was painful with the cold. "I'm S-Sam W-Winchester."
Terry, still feeling somewhat browned off by this point reacted in the best way he knew how. "Yeah, and I'm Rip Van Fucking Winkle, and I have a season ticket at Arsenal!"
Sam laughed at that. He followed English Football and knew how shit Arsenal could be. Besides, Sam was a Man U supporter. It was a left over from his days at Stanford when he'd befriended an English guest lecturer. It wasn't something he'd bothered to mention to Dean.
"Yeah. Th-They could certainly use a change of m-manager. Or p-perhaps replacing the entire team would be a g-good m-move." He responded, earning a snort of laughter from the other guy in the water.
Sobering a little, Terry stared up at the young bloke, Sam's introduction finally catching up with him.
This was the first look he'd really gotten at him. Terry was only about 5"7' but Sam was at the very least about 6"4'. And he'd thought that Dean was tall enough. Somehow neither of them looked like the photographs he'd been presented with.
He was looking at his next mission.
Oh shit.
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"Hey!" Dean yelled, "You one lucky son-of-a-bitch you know that?!" He was standing on the river bank just above Terry and Sam, feeling elated that his younger brother was still alive.
Terry, who'd had about as much as he could take by this point, yelled back "Yeah, thanks for fucking telling me!" Much to Dean's surprise. Even Sam had a hard time not laughing at the affronted look on his brother's face. It felt good to see someone take Dean down a peg.
The Englishman patted Sam on the shoulder, and heaving a much needed sigh he let Sam go. "Be careful with your feet when you get past this rock." He muttered just loudly enough to hear above the river.
Sam nodded, seeing the edge of the river where his brother was standing. There was another boulder between this one and the shore, so Sam had to try and surge forward so that he wouldn't get swept away again. The water may not have been moving so fast here but the current was still powerful. He balanced on the balls of his feet and then swam forward.
He just made it to the other side, feeling the water pulling on his body, but then his long legs were a strong advantage. He could touch the bottom, providing him with a much needed kick-off. Dean was waiting to haul him out of the water, and Sam started shivering again. His brother shrugged out of his coat and placed it around Sam's shoulders.
"You okay Sammy?" At Sam's nod, Dean turned to the guy in the water.
"Come on get outa there before you freeze to death!" He stretched his arm out along the water, offering his hand.
Terry had watched as Sam made his way to the river's edge, just to make sure he got there ok, ready to reach out and catch him if he slipped. On hearing Dean shout to him, he crossed to the next boulder, but encountered a problem. As he had previously noticed he wasn't as tall as Sam, and therefore found he had no way off kicking off from the bottom to allow more momentum. In fact he found that he couldn't even touch the bottom without going under.
He threw out his hand to receive salvation…..
….but the current was too strong.
With a long drawn out "Fuuuccckkkk!" Terry was immediately swept away from between the rocks, and once more down the river.
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The Winchester brother's anxious shouts were drowned out by the noise.
Without another word, Sam and Dean carried on running down the river bank.
They'd lost sight of the guy long ago and would have given him up for dead, except that Sam wouldn't stop. Dean could understand that; the guy had saved his life and he didn't even know his name.
Other than Rip Van Winkle.
The brothers had been running for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality it was just a couple of hours, when they came to a halt trying to take in their surroundings. The moon was sliding down the sky and dawn was on the approach.
Sam leaned against a tree and slowly slid down it, feeling exhaustion set in. But with all the running on the rough terrain, not to mention occasionally running into the branches that his brother had deliberately allowed to snap back into him, at least he was no longer cold. In fact his clothes were starting to steam as the river water evaporated.
Dean, who had been staring out over the river searching for any sign of human life, turned back to his younger brother.
"Well Sammy, I gotta tell ya, you really suck at being Flipper ya know that?" Dean smirked.
Sam gave him the finger and closed his eyes for a second, then opened them abruptly when he felt a jolt.
Dean was crouching next to him. "Don't you go to sleep! I'm not carrying your sorry ass back up river."
"Yeah like you could" came the exhausted reply, his eyes closed again.
"Ah Sammy. Is that the best ya can do?"
"Fuck you Dean" Sam answered with no real malice. He was too tired for that.
"Sam! I am shocked at your language."
"Shocked? You? That's a first."
"Yeah well, I'm usually the one doing the shocking-"
"-got that damn straight-"
"-when the ladies see just how big-"
"-Dean!" Sam's eyes flew open again, wide this time. "This is not the conversation I wanna be having with you." He got abruptly to his feet and turned to face his brother, ignoring the smug grin on Dean's face. "We gotta find that guy."
The grin faded. The trade mark Winchester Bickering session officially put on hold for now, Dean nodded. "You realize the chances of him still being alive are pretty slim Sam."
Sam huffed. "Yeah. But I need to know one way or the other."
Dean was silent for a moment. "We should call in help. Mountain rescue or something."
Sam gave a humourless laugh. "My phone got fucked in the river, and yours got shot out of your hand when Gordon attacked us." He shook his head. "Not an option. We do this alone."
"Right. Let's go."
They both carried on making their way along the river's edge.
"And Dean?"
"Yeah!"
"I get one more branch in the face and I swear to god you'll be wearing it up ya ass."
"Like to see ya try that ya big girl"
"Jerk."
"Tree-bi tch."
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Terry was not a happy little bunny.
He'd been able to keep his head above water for most of the time, mainly by sheer bloody-mindedness, but had still managed to swallow what seemed like most of the river by the time he heard it.
The water had slowed a little by now but not enough to allow him to strike out to the river's edge and welcoming safety. And so he free flowed down the rapids for quite some time, occasionally striking the odd rock and bouncing off, breaking a rib, tearing a muscle, but otherwise he was still alive.
He supposed he should have been grateful for that, but gratitude was the last thing he was feeling.
Terry carried on swearing loudly. It made him feel a little better.
And where were all the floating logs, the low over-hanging tree branches….the dead animal carcasses, any of the usual river debris he'd expected to find?
Anything just to help him get out of this fucking river?
A rocket fuelled hover craft would have been nice.
Any kind of craft in fact.
A teaspoon that he could use for a rudder, even.
Then, in the distance there was the booming noise.
Recognizing it, the expression on Terry's face had quite a lot to say about Lady Luck, and in particular what he was going to do with her once he'd caught up with the bitch.
My cock going up her arse for one thing…..
Managing to look ahead of him, Terry spotted the tell tale sign of the start of a waterfall. The horizon cut off sharply as the water flowed over it. Desperately he attempted once again to strike out to the shore, but it was like trying to, well, swim against the tide.
Ha bloody ha.
I'm going to bend her over…..
He struggled violently, taking in more water and spluttering as he approached the waterfall with increasing speed.
…then I'm going to….
Teetering on the edge for a second, which he swore the Luck bitch had done deliberately just to aggravate him, he glanced over.
His eyes widened angrily at the drop awaiting him.
….give it to her right up the dirt box!
He was swept over.
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During the running crusade, Dean and Sam were having their own private thoughts. It was bound to lead to an argument later, but for now they were both content to keep quiet. Besides, the journey was tough going and neither one of them were given over to a heart-to-heart slagging match right now.
But…..
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It had to be said that Dean was getting more than a little pissed off by now, and that his increasingly silent, and above all stubborn little brother was probably the cause. Sam had been careless in getting himself abducted once again. And, as a result, several events had started to play out that explained Dean's bad mood.
He'd been lucky. Dean, coming back from the bar after a night of hustling, had just been pulling up to the motel room when he'd seen Gordon roughly shoving his trussed-up brother into the back of a van. (If Dean hadn't decided to leave the bar when he did…..)
Gordon on realizing that Dean was back had fired his gun. At this point, Dean had taken out his cell phone with the intention of calling Bobby for back-up, so unfortunately, depending on which way you looked at it, the bullet missed him and struck his cell in a shower of sparks, forcing Dean to drop it.
His beloved phone, with his beloved ring tone of "Smoke over water" was totaled.
And there had been the high speed car chase, which admittedly had been pretty cool, although nearly wrapping his equally beloved car round a tree hadn't (he'd make damn sure Sam paid for that one at a later date).
Then there was the little fact that he'd been force to shoot the tires out on the van, something he'd been trying to avoid seeing as his little brother was in there. But he'd had little choice; the Impala was fast running out of gas and Dean had no idea how much fuel Gordon's van had left. He couldn't risk letting him spirit Sam away with no means of pursuit.
Then there was the cliché hostage negotiation scene, which was the kind that Dean really hated where his brother was concerned although he should have been getting pretty expert at them by now. He just didn't like the thought of aiming his gun in Sam's direction. He'd promised to keep him safe, and shooting your brother by accident whilst trying to take down a crazed hunter probably didn't qualify.
And then, for fuck sake, the bridge railing had given way, causing Sam to plummet into the watery depths of one mean mother-fucker of a river.
And now they were running along the river bank, feet blisters developing rapidly, searching for the guy who'd saved Sam's life (where Dean had failed) who was probably long dead and making like the worlds biggest waterlogged corpse since the Captain of the Titanic had discovered the passengers were getting a bit wet……
All in all, it had been one shit-filled day.
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Proving once again that there must have been some kind of telepathy going on between the brothers, Sam had a theory.
It was quite valid and one he'd been working on for some time. He'd even given it a proper title, and this was:
"Why Does This Shit Keep Happening To Me?"
Ok so it wasn't the best title in the world but it certainly summed things up nicely for Sam.
As he followed his brother's running feet along the river bank, it occurred to him that "this shit" hardly ever seemed to happen to Dean.
Well, it did Sam supposed.
There was the demon-related car "accident" that had resulted in dad trading his life for Dean's, and then the aftermath of that…..
And then there was Dean's little paddy (using a crowbar to smack the shit out of the Impala he was trying to restore) when Sam had tried to talk to him about those events…..
After all, what happened to one sibling had direct consequences for the other, right? But why was it always Dean that came up against said consequences and Sam just had….
...shit?
He pondered this.
Suddenly, remembering how his brother's mind worked, he understood that he may have to face some consequences of his own later.
Oh fucking dear.
Sam, realizing that his theory may need some work, came to a rather worrying conclusion:
He was going to get into a lot of trouble for all this.
And he knew saying "sorry Dean" just wasn't going to cut it.
It really sucked being the youngest.
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Gordon had finally managed to pull himself back up onto the bridge just as he noticed Dean disappearing from sight along the river bank.
"Sonofabitch" he muttered. Gordon hadn't seen the strange figure jump off the other side of the bridge. If he had then he might not have wasted anymore time.
But as it was, he lay there on the wooden planks breathing heavily whilst he tried to think.
What had gone wrong? He thought to himself.
Dean Unpredictable Fucking Winchester that's what!
He shot the fucking tires out!
Gordon should have known.
He really should. Dean would have taken any risk if it meant getting his little Demon-bitch brother back in once piece.
Though Gordon knew the chances of Sam not becoming fish food the minute he'd hit the water were slim to none, he wasn't about to take the chance he was still alive. For one thing, Gordon was convinced Sam was a demon-soldier in the making. And a demon wouldn't kill one of its own, right?
He was starting to feel a little better.
(Gordon was well known for his excellent hunter instincts. But he was also well known for not thinking outside the box, particularly where the Winchester's were concerned.)
These things never went to plan, but it always paid to have a back-up. And thinking of the terrain around him, he realized that back-up was about to be called into play.
The Winchester Hunters were once again about to become the Hunted.
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Sam and Dean were still running when the sun was just about to peak over the horizon, the indigo sky starting to change colour. They stopped at the waterfall and both men felt exhausted enough to fall where they stood. Hardly holding out any hope of finding the English guy alive now, they carried on picking their way carefully down the rocky rivers' edge until they reached the bottom.
There was a reasonably calm lake of water at the base of the waterfall, and Sam stepped out onto the rocks, his feet thudding on the surface. Looking all around him, he spoke.
"Dean? You see 'im?"
"Nah. Not yet." Dean had stepped up beside his brother and they stood virtually back to back, their eyes searching the landscape. They turned around each other, seemingly on a pivot.
It took them a while.
Under other circumstances, this would have been a peaceful place. The mountains in the distance seemed to stretch out, and in between there was the calm lake and forests. But the Winchesters were having trouble reconciling that scene with the search and so-called "rescue" going on in their minds.
Suddenly, Dean spotted what they were looking for. "Sam! Over here!" And together they jumped off the rocks, hitting the ground running as they headed to the other side of the lake.
Laying face down in the mud was the body of a man, his black coat clinging to his still form. The black jeans were covered in the silt from the river as was his hair.
Sam recognized him as the guy who'd appeared in the water, and shouted out.
"Hey! You all right man?"
The guy still wasn't moving. There was no sign of life, but the tracks in the mud suggested that who ever he was, he was stubborn; he'd lived long enough to pull himself out of the lake.
The brothers dropped down beside the guy, and, with a heavy heart, Sam was about to reach out to check for a pulse when the body twitched.
Then coughed. Violently.
Heaving himself up onto his hands, the stranger hacked some more before swearing, and then rolled himself over onto his back.
Terry blinked a few times, waiting for reality to come back into focus. When it did, there were two young anxious looking men staring down at him.
Ok. Not the semi-naked Thai girls he'd been hoping for but it fucking beat the alternatives. His CO for one. Now where was the beer?...
That's when it all came back to him, the plunge into the water, getting Sam to safety, swearing at Dean, the waterfall…….
Ah. The mission. That was gonna be a bloody tricky one.
Aware that the blokes were trying to talk him, he waved them into silence.
Terry sat up on his elbows, winced from the bruised ribs, and lay back down again, eyes closed for a second.
"It's really gonna be one of those fucking days isn't it." He opened his eyes again, daring the lads to answer.
It clearly wasn't a question.
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Gordon knew he was getting close. He'd been tracking the Winchesters since the bridge.
Having hauled his rifle out of the van, attached optical sights, along with plenty of ammo, he'd taken to his heels immediately in pursuit. One thing that was playing on his mind was why in hell they hadn't turned back to reclaim Dean's precious Impala.
Gordon had been following Dean's trail for some time when he came across a slight bend in the river. It had been obvious and easy to spot, especially as Dean wouldn't have been thinking about covering his tracks.
And so that bend told him a lot.
Sam was still alive. For a start, the extra set of large footprints suddenly appearing in the mud besides Deans had made that clear.
So why had they not turned back?
He decided not to worry about that. Because for now, the hunt was well and truly on.
Gordon smiled menacingly.
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Dean stared down at the man who had saved his brother, and agreed with his initial conclusion.
Yeah, this guy was completely in sane. And really fucking angry with it, though he'd been pretty pissed the last time Dean had seen him.
Sam gave the stranger a friendly smile and offered him a hand.
Terry stared at the boys before him, remembering what he'd read about them.
Boys.
These two are the Winchester brothers, and I just referred to them as boys. The oldest of which is not far off ten years younger than me.
I must be getting fucking old.
He accepted the hand of the youngest lad, the one with the long hair, and with a bit of help got to his feet.
Terry already knew their names. And what with Sam having formerly introduced himself before Terry had gone for an involuntary surf lesson, he felt that perhaps it was time to offer a name for himself.
"The name's Terry." He felt the need for another spell of coughing before looking back up at them.
Sam, he realized, was still concerned for his welfare, whereas Deans' look was more guarded.
And so it fucking should be, Terry thought.
Sam gave Terry another one of his smiles. "Glad you're still alive. Thanks for what you did." It was genuine, but simply stated which Terry was eternally thankful for. He hated mushy stuff.
Terry guessed from the state of them that they'd followed him down river, and that must have been miles. He glanced at his watch.
05:00?!? When he'd taken a free fall from the bridge it had only gone past 23:00!
Not only had they bothered to follow him all that way, but he was still alive!
He realized that an answer was required. He stuttered and stumbled a bit around this one; he wasn't used to receiving thanks for his work. It was all for, hah! Queen and country.
When I'm sent out to assassinate one Winchester and capture the other…
A couple of young lads that just lost their dad…..
And the young twats had stuck around to make sure I was ok….
"S'no problem. Don't mention it" he muttered. And then slowly started to fall forward as cold, exhaustion, at least three broken ribs, and a host of other pains he hadn't remembered, suddenly caught up with him and laughed in his face.
Queen and country my arse!
The worse part is they don't realize that I was asked to come here by their own fu cking country.
Fu cking yanks…..
Those were his last thoughts before his world went blissfully dark for a while.
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Part 2 to follow soon boys and girls...
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