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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.
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Flight through Time
Chapter 2
Movement through Space
From Chapter 1
"God, I hate witches," was Dean's response.
"Well, get on your horse boy," Bobby ordered. "You need to get here as soon as you can with the blood. Sam is getting further and further away with each passing minute. People and things get lost in space all the time but they also get lost in time. The longer you take, the further away Sam is going to drift.
Chapter 2
Dean dropped his cell phone back in his pocket and pulled out his thin silver knife. Rubbing the smooth blade on his face he stared at the Witch. It appeared he was almost meditating whether to either cut her or kill her outright.
The Witch was still shackled to the tree and yelling her head off. "Please, I'm sorry. Don't hurt me. I promise, never again …" the closer Dean hovered the louder she got.
He waved the knife in her face. The silver blade glittered in the moonlight. "You don't have any idea where my brother is, right Mary Fable? You swear you can't bring him back?" He cocked his head to the side and considered her carefully.
The woman was openly weeping now. "I would if I could, I swear. Please, please don't hurt me."
"Oh for pity's sake, shut the hell up." Dean groaned. "I don't how why someone like you could even get the guts to think about becoming a witch. Here," he reached out and unlocked the handcuffs Andy had used to lock her arms around the tree. "Give me your damned hand."
She squealed and backed away but he had a firm grip on one wrist. Peeling her fingers back him flipped his knife into position and slashed her palm open. She started bleeding like a waterfall and screaming like a banshee. He held her hand up as she struggled and let the blood pool in her lap.
When he felt that there was enough blood for Bobby's spell he ripped the front of her skirt off and let her run away. Rolling the bloody fabric into a ball he put it aside and took a look at mess he had to clean up. He also had more blood to gather. He looked around and decided he'd go to the car and get a beer bottle, empty if he had one. He could deal with a full one easily. Bobby had asked for liquid blood. Dean wondered if beer would function as an anti-coagulant. If Bobby didn't want beer in his blood Dean figured that was the old man's problem. Dean just wanted Sam back.
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Bobby Singer was wiser than he realized. Far away in both space and time the strange boy was led through the Roman Legion's camp. He saw tents and cooking fires; men in armor and men in rags. The place smelled of cooking meat, boiling soups, horse manure and sweating, unwashed men. Confused and dazed he simply followed the one they had called the Centurion with no idea of where they were going or why.
They finally stopped moving in front of a large striped tent. Compared to the thread bare and muddy colored tents they had just walked through this was a place of splendor. It still stank. It was dirty and barely standing against a brisk early morning wind.
The Centurion held the tent flap aside and motioned the boy forward.
Inside were three men seated on low stools and eating from crude flat plates with their fingers. They pushed chunks of meat around in a glutinous looking gravy then shoved the food in their mouths, licking their greasy fingers clean.
"What's this, Polonius?" the man in the middle asked.
Polonius bowed. "One of the guards found this boy last night in among the horses. They called me this morning to the horse sheds to hand him over. I thought you would like to take a look at him, Iranis. As our Legatus Legionis you should decide what to do with him."
"Bring him closer, Polonius "
The Centurion pushed the boy closer to the three men.
"Well, what have we here?" Iranis rose to his feet to take a closer look, wiping his hand on his tunic. When he got within reach he clasped his hand under the boy's chin and raised the child's head.
"It is good you have brought him here, Centurion. I don't know who he is or why he was bothering the horses but this is no common find. I'm sure someone is looking for such a pretty morsel. Just leave him here. I'll keep him safe until we find where he belongs."
Polonius bowed and backed out of the tent, leaving his prize behind. He had no intention of forgetting about the boy. If some rich Roman appeared looking for the boy Polonius was sure he could get his share of any bounty offered. After all, he was the leader of a hundred men. That was a hundred pairs of eyes.
Back in the tent Iranis pointed to a small cross legged stool to the side of the tent. The boy understood that he was to sit and followed the order. There was a burst of Latin and the man in charge stuck his head through the tent flap. In a moment another man appeared with an additional plate of meat which he handed to the boy.
The one called the Legatus Legionis slapped his chest and grunted out "Iranis." He then pointed at the boy.
"Sam." The child answered quickly and then proceeded to delicately poke at his chunks of cooked meat.
Iranis stepped closer to his young captive and seemed to inventory the boy. The man lightly ran his fingers through the boy's soft, clean hair. The tattooed bands on the boy's arms were inspected closely, both sides. This close the Roman could tell that the outside edges of each band were made up of a frieze of letters, possibly inscriptions or prayers, the man thought. Finally the Legatus seized one of the boy's hands and ran his fingers over the gold bracket on Sam's wrist. This was very obviously gold and the Roman tugged at the band, endeavoring to pull it off.
To Iranis' surprise the band would not break or even twist. The boy jerked his arm back when Iranis tried too hard and barked "No!" in the Roman's face. Iranis was not sure if he was more surprised at the strength of the band or at the bravery of the child.
The man drew his arm back to strike the child in the face and was surprised when he somehow landed flat on his back. The child had used a sweep move to knock the man's feet out from under him and then the boy had retreated to the back wall of the tent. Out of seemingly nowhere a wicked sharp child size dagger had appeared. The boy waved it in front of him.
"Well, it looks like the boy has a stinger, Iranis." one of the other men laughed. "It might be wise to let him be until you find out who he belongs to. This boy has been trained early in battle arts. You might have a patrician's child here."
Iranis raised himself up on his elbows in the dirt. "He may have been trained in battle but he needs to learn to respect his elders." The man grumbled. "I'll leave him for now but I won't forget this episode. I'll teach him manners myself if no one comes to claim him."