A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed chapter 2, I really appreciate hearing from you.
Enjoy chapter 3!
Bonds of Trust
By: Ada C. Eliana
Chapter 3
Dean lay with his eyes open, Sam's warm weight stretched across him as the younger boy dozed. Wind blew loud and hard against the sides of the cabin. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think about the situation they had found themselves in, tried not to wonder about what the man had planned for them.
The man had forced his way into the motel room with ease, picking the lock while they were sleeping, and wrestling the rifle that Dean had grabbed when he realized the man wasn't John, out of Dean's grip. Dean had tried to fight him, but the man was no lightweight, and easily shrugged off his attacks, heading for Sammy. The handgun he pointed at Sammy's head was more than enough incentive for Dean to stop in his tracks, to give the man control of the situation. Sam watched with wide, bleary eyes, unsure of what to do. The man produced a white cloth from his pocket and expertly pounced on Sam, holding it over his face while still pointing the gun at his head. Sammy bucked and squirmed but the man held him down, and while Dean screamed threats his body went limp. The man dragged Sam onto his shoulder, the gun still pushed against his temple, and motioned for Dean to follow him. As if Dean would just stay behind while he took off with his little brother.
He brought them to a cabin in the woods somewhere, and locked them up in a room. A little while later Sam had finally woken up and they examined their surroundings. The room they were in had only barred windows, and the attached bathroom had no windows. The view the window afforded was of complete wilderness, such that even if Dean were able to escape he had no idea where he would go from there.
The man who captured them had yet to say anything, only entered briefly to leave them food for the day. Afterwards Dean had heard a car pull out of the driveway and he had been gone ever since. Sammy had alternated between hysterical crying and sullen despondency until he tired himself out and eventually fell asleep against Dean.
Dean felt helpless for the first time he could remember since a fire claimed his mother's life. His father had tried to shield him from the truth about monsters and spirits for as long as he could, but over a year ago had given up and told him, taught him a little bit about how to protect himself. But his father never told him what to do to protect himself against a human. They had clearly surpassed the usefulness of "don't talk to strangers." Dean held on to Sam tighter, wondering just what the man had in store for them.
"I don't like this, Bobby," Teresa whispered. Everyone else had gone to bed, leaving the two demon hunters alone in the sitting room.
"What don't you like?" Bobby sighed. The trek through the woods had taken more out of him then he would like to admit, he was tired and worried and would have liked very much to go to bed. However the look on Teresa's face had made him hang back when the others left, wondering what was on her mind.
Her dark eyebrows were furrowed. "The salt lines weren't disturbed. I keep coming back to that," she answered. "Why would they have been so careful crossing the salt?"
Bobby didn't respond immediately thinking it over. "That is odd. If they were going to sacrifice the kids anyway why would they leave the salt in place?"
"How would they even have known why the lines were there?" Teresa pressed. "Too much about this case doesn't add up. Dean is too old."
"What do you mean?"
"When I faced this type of demon last time I went through the missing children, the oldest was never older that seven, small enough to be trusting, to take candy from strangers you know. The kids never disappeared from a motel, they would be taken from diners or bathrooms or stores."
"What are you saying Tressy, that we're barking up the wrong tree here?" Bobby questioned, nerves frazzled. They needed to be right about this, because if they weren't then that meant Sam and Dean were just gone, and that was unacceptable. He never meant to get attached to those kids when John Winchester first dragged them to his house, but he had and there was no going back now.
"I'm saying that something's not adding up. I don't even want to suggest this, but there's the possibility this whole thing is an inside job."
"You think a hunter planned this?" Bobby said, voice low and disbelieving.
"When you walk into a room you always step forward as if there were a salt line, it's habit, you don't even know you're doing it. It's habit for all of us."
"That doesn't mean –"
"I'm not sure about this, Bobby, but we're going to have to be careful, alright? It's not me, it's not you, it's definitely not John. It can't be Tim or Josh or Daniel, but there are plenty of people who might've done this. I mean, how many people know about John? He's been to Harvelle's, and you know the type of people who go there – Gordon and Kubrick and Davis are just the tip of the demented iceberg."
"What do you suggest then Tressy? If you're right, then what do we do?"
"Bring a loaded gun with you tomorrow – just in case," Teresa suggested.
"But why John's kids, why would any of them want to go after his boys?" Bobby asked.
Teresa thought of her oldest journal and the pages filled with plenty of reasons why a hunter might want to target at least one of John's kids. She never shared that journal with anyone, but there was always the chance that someone had come to the same conclusions she had, but decided to act in the complete opposite way she would have advised. "I can't be sure, Bobby," she responded, the lie heavy on her tongue. Bobby cocked his head as he studied her, and she could see doubt in his eyes, but this secret was hers for now, not to be shared with anyone, including her closest friend.
"Fine, I'll bring my .38 tomorrow and hope to God that you're wrong about this. We should get to bed now, we have a long day ahead of us."
"Here's the exorcism," Jim said, passing around typed-up copies of the exorcism right to the hunters assembled in his kitchen, dirty breakfast plates before them.
Bobby read it over, nodding slightly. "Seems simple enough," he decided.
"It's a lower level demon so it can be. The problem is going to be pinning the thing down," Teresa sighed.
"Even if you save the boys, you're still going to need to save that town from the demon," Daniel pointed out.
"Why? Didn't they bring this on themselves? We're talking about people who sacrifice small children!" Tim protested.
"Yeah but think of all the kids and the people who have no idea about any of this who will end up murdered if we let this thing loose," Joshua countered. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do it all the way."
"Can we just focus on getting to the boys before that damn demon does?" John suggested gruffly, running a hand through his hair in agitation. This was already taking far too long. The others turned their attention to John as if they had forgotten he was in the room.
"John's right, it's time to get a move on," Bobby agreed. "John, Teresa, and I are taking the woods, Daniel, Josh, Tim, go through the neighboring towns – Tannersville, Davistown, and Jonesboro , tear them apart searching for those boys or anyone who has seen them, be careful because whoever instigated this might be willing to take you out to cover their tracks." They nodded as they accepted their assignments.
John, Bobby, Teresa, and Jim drove up to the forest in the Impala and Bobby's pick-up truck. Once there, Jim distributed two-way radios between the hunters, keeping the mates himself so he could monitor their progress from the parking area. With time running short it seemed more frugal to search individually rather than in teams so the trio split up. With a departing "good luck", a quick glance between Teresa and Bobby, and encouraging nods, the hunters headed off in opposite directions.
John could sense the futility in his own actions as he pushed through the brambles and between the trees, calling out for his sons. He was scouring the area Bobby and Daniel had been through the day before, and like them, all he found was a big fat nothing. The area was so dense it was impossible to move through. His mind kept a record of how long the boys had been gone, and what might be happening to them, what might have already happened. A hundred different scenarios, both supernatural and terribly natural ran through his head. If Bobby and Teresa had been wrong about their demon theory then John had little time to come up with a different theory, the trail would be cold, it would be that much harder to pick it up again.
He forced himself to stop halfway through the day, the sun blazing overhead. He had marked his path as he cut through the trees in an attempt to not accidentally cover the same ground twice. Hourly check-ins with Pastor Jim let him know that no one had spotted the boys yet. Teresa had assured Jim that even if the person who had the boys saw them wandering around they would still have to 'make the drop' tonight or else free the demon to massacre their town. He chewed half-heartedly on the sandwich Jim had pressed on him before they left the rectory, feeling more useless than he could remember being since he found Mary pinned to the ceiling above Sam's crib.
He thought about the other hunters, the ones he knew well – Daniel, and Bobby, the ones he barely knew, Joshua, Tim and Teresa. He hated trusting these people to help look for his sons, hated placing their welfare, their survival in the hands of strangers. Trust was never something John gave easily, he had been burned in his youth too many times. He let his guard down when he was with Mary, but losing her put those walls right back up again.
John knew one thing for certain, he would never survive losing his sons. He needed to find Dean and Sam – safe and alive – there was no alternative.
"Dean, why are we here?" Sam asked. Since waking up Dean's little brother had been questioning him non-stop, as it was now sometime approaching dusk, that had been quite a few questions. Sammy was scared, that much was obvious, but unfortunately there wasn't much Dean could do to allay his fears. For all he knew their father hadn't even realized they were gone yet, if Dad hadn't come back to the motel then he wouldn't be looking for them, and if he wasn't looking for them…
"I wanna go home," Sam cried.
"Me too, Sammy," Dean sighed, pulling his little brother close to him. They were sitting on the bed together, leaning against the headboard.
"What does he want us for?" Sam questioned, playing with the last chicken nugget from the Happy Meals the man had tossed in earlier. Their captor had been pacing the cabin nervously for hours, letting out stifled groans every now and then.
"I don't know, Sammy. Maybe he's… maybe he just wants something from Dad? I'm sure Dad will get us out of here real soon, Sammy."
Dean startled when the door suddenly swung open. The blonde man standing there staring stone-faced at him. Sam clung closer to him and he instinctively placed his body in front of his brother's. When the man's attention turned to Sam, his lip curled slightly in distaste. Dean felt a shudder go through him and tried to edge Sammy out of the man's view.
"Time to go, kids," the man said.
"Where?" Dean asked petulantly.
"We're going for a little walk in the woods, and I expect you kids to be quiet, or else," he snarled, a length of rope coiled in his hands. He tied each of the boys' wrists together, then connected their bonds with a longer rope whose end their kidnapper held onto – a leash if Dean ever saw one. Unfortunately, the way he tied it meant that Sammy would closet to the man, in front of Dean. Dean stared forlornly at the knots, and their intricacy, knowing that they would be nearly impossible to undo. Sam was crying silently, tears streaking down his round face. The man led the way out of the cabin, pulling tightly on the rope, causing Sammy to stumble, and forcing him to walk directly behind the man, with Dean staying beside his brother and trying uselessly to break free of the rope.
However, as they left the cabin and headed for the chilly wilderness, Dean noticed one thing that had him confused. A thick line of salt had been laid before the door, just like their father did to ward off ghosts and demons. He was under the impression that hunters were the only people who did this, so why would their kidnapper have laid salt lines?
The man was careful as he led them through the woods. He continually stopped and crouched down, checking the forest floor for tracks. Dean stayed as close to Sam's side as he could, wanting more than anything to put his arms around his little brother, but his bound hands unfortunately made that impossible. Sam was shaking and every now and then a tear would trail down his face.
"Hmm, someone's been through here," the man said. "Tracks are too big for Tressy, had to have been John or Bobby," he mumbled. Dean's heart shot up at the mention of his father's name. His father was out looking for them, and Uncle Bobby too, there was no way this guy could stand up against them.
The man looked up at the darkening sky and sighed. "She'll be out soon, and this will all be over." He sounded tired, almost resigned. "Come on kids, and remember, I don't want to hear any sound out of you two."
"Almost there," the kidnapper whispered as he led the boys deeper into the brush. Sam stumbled and fell, but the rope tied to his hands jerked, dragging him forward. Dean helped him up as best as he could while trying to keep up with the man who seemed to suddenly be moving in a frenzy. He stopped short, Sam and Dean crashing into him as he stared out into the woods. He motioned for the kids to be quiet, and then tied his end of the rope around a tree. He quietly unzipped his bag and pulled out a rifle, picking through the woods and away from them carefully.
Just beyond their position was John Winchester, back to them, wandering through the woods with a flashlight guiding the way, searching for the boys. The man approached John from behind, silently skulking towards him.
Dean furiously worked with the rope determined to get free and get to his father. He watched as their captor lifted his rifle into the air as he came up on John. "DAD!" Dean screamed in warning. John spun towards him as the rifle dropped, slamming into his head and rendering him unconscious. The man knelt beside John's prone form, drawing more rope from his pocket and tying the oldest Winchester to a nearby tree. He went through John's pockets, emptying the Holy Water from the flask, pulling the clip out of his gun, and dispersing his rock salt into the brush. He came across a piece of paper and ripped it up, scattering the pieces into the wind.
He stomped back over to Dean and Sam with anger present in his expression. "Keep your damn mouth shut, kid!" he fumed, pulling a bandana from his bag. He gagged Dean with it and then untied the rope and dragged them deeper into the woods.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!
-Ada
