Dragon Slayer
By: Ridley
Beta: Tidia
A/N: Well there is a new episode tonight, but just in case it is more of the soul-crushing, sibling bashing, 'what is this show', drivel, I at least offer up a new chapter. Let's hope an escape isn't needed. ;-)
RCJ
"It is hard to fight an enemy that has outposts in your head."-anonymous
"With this snow piling up, it's going to be hard to track them, Dad." Once outside, Dean was surprised to see the landscape before them transformed in such a short period of time. The light snow that had started on their trek to the cabin had quickly morphed into a squall. The storm Buzz mentioned earlier had descended upon them quickly, large snowflakes raining from the sky, the wind blowing it about like a white sheet flapping on a clothes line.
"They'd have gone north on the perimeter." John pointed towards the opposite side of the valley from where Dean and Caleb had been brought in by Buzz and Sullivan. "They vary the routes each night. This is the fourth night, so north."
"They've been gone almost half an hour," Dean noted, looking up at sky, which was almost completely dark, the white in the trees and on the ground giving more light than the spans of thick gray above them.
"How long does a patrol usually take?" Caleb asked.
"Forty five minutes at the most." John rubbed his beard, touching his radio again. It had remained silent.
"So we head south," Dean nodded towards the opposite path. "Taking in they should have almost made it full circle by the time…"
He let the words hang between them because they had no clue what had happened to Sullivan, his men and Buzz, though it was certain the worst was on all their minds.
"Let's move." John took them southward. Caleb and Dean rushed to keep up.
They had only been wading through the deepening snow for about ten minutes when they came to a small clearing, a circle of pines that would have been a prime camping spot in the summer. The trees seemed to lean towards one another in a secret meeting, their whispery tops creating a canopy that was now shrouded in snow, bending under the weight as if the accumulation had been spackled there to form a cave. The sounds of a babbling creek echoed over the wind, but it was the scent of blood and gunpowder that had their small group pulling up short. Dean's father motioned for Caleb and Dean to circle around the opposite side.
Caleb nodded, giving the signal he would take the lead and for Dean to follow him. Dean's first thought as they edged forward was the snow made a hell of a back drop for violence. He wondered if Caleb's artist eye saw it differently, terrifyingly beautiful even. Red like a bold splash of paint spread beneath the body of one of Sullivan's team. From what was left of his head, Dean guessed it was the young guy, the one with the long hair. It fanned around him in the snow, like black ink.
"Shit," Caleb breathed, his murmur bringing Dean's eyes to another victim. Several feet beyond the first in a direct line of one another as if they had stepped onto the streets of Laredo for a show down, both a true shot, but neither emerging the victor.
'What the hell?' Dean signed, thankful not for the first time that the short period he had refused to talk had inspired Mac to encourage him and Caleb to learn a language that didn't require human voice.
'Cover me,' was Caleb's response. Dean did just that, pulling his weapon from its holster, shadowing the older hunter as he knelt to check each man. There was no doubt they were dead, yet Caleb went through the routine, searching for a pulse that wouldn't be there, running a hand over their vacant eyes to close them before he slid the silver rings from their fingers and slipped them into his pocket, The Brotherhood's version of dog tags.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Dean spoke, his hands on his gun.
"I'm thinking they shot each other." Caleb met his gaze, confusion warring with revulsion as he reached out and touched the mojo bag around the downed hunter's chest.
"Damn. Why?"
"It might have something with the fact I can sense you now and my abilities are fully back on line. This place is warded."
"Warded against wards?" Dean understood counter spells, but hadn't anticipated that this Slayer might utilize one.
"Something like that."
"So the bastard used mind control? Made them turn on one another?"
"That's one possibility." Caleb searched the tree line. "I can't get anything past the trees. The anti-ward only extends to this clearing."
John stepped out of the cover of trees on the other side, Dean instinctively training his weapon on him before recognizing who he was in the waning light. The Knight waved them his way. Dean gave the body of the young hunter another look. He couldn't have been much older than Sam, and it was a rare moment when Dean was thankful his brother was far away in California. Caleb tugged his jacket before moving toward John. Dean swallowed the lump in the back of his throat and followed.
"Any sign of Buzz and the others?" Caleb asked when they were safely within the trees once more.
"They double backed out of here, heading the opposite direction and not long ago considering the snow hasn't covered the boot prints. Three sets another farther behind."
"The Slayer?"
"Probably. Different prints, military issue boot from the looks of the tread."
"I think Sullivan's men took each other out, Johnny."
"You sure?"
"Pretty damn sure," Dean answered. "It looks like they were right on top of each other when they opened fire. Caleb thinks that clearing is blocked from our wards."
"Mind control?" John hazarded a guess, coming to the same conclusion they had.
"These men were trained hunters." Caleb frowned, pulling the mojo bag from beneath his coat. "They're protected with Missouri's best spell work, but in there something countered it. I'm thinking the bastard set a trap for them."
Dean watched his father search the darkness around them, his breath coming out in puffs of white like smoke where he'd pulled his face mask up to the top of his head. "Then he's as smart as we feared, and probably more prepared than we expected."
"I guess." Caleb shook his head. "It would take a hell of a strong telepath to trigger something like that in men who know how to put up mental blocks, but…"
Dean didn't hear the rest of Caleb's conclusion. The arrow that zinged past his ear claimed his attention. It left the faintest brush of air on his cheek before burying to the shaft in the closest tree beside him.
"Winchester! Move!" The warning shouts came from a small incline just above them, followed by a spurt of gunfire over their heads in the direction from where the arrow had been fired.
Dean didn't take time to decide if it was Buzz who had yelled the warning or Sullivan. He was too busy scrambling beside his father, ducking behind one of the older, larger trees. Another arrow, then two more successively tore into the bark of their unfortunate barricade. It was becoming painfully obvious, telepath or not, Slayers could wield a crossbow quite accurately, and had either night vision goggles or could see in the dark.
Another burst of gunfire tore open the quiet. Dean heard the crash of brush behind them. He hoped to hell it was Buzz and Sullivan as he attempted to offer them some cover by firing his gun at the invisible enemy who could have been anywhere now. Caleb was doing the same from behind a massive pine off to their right.
"Buzz, what the hell is going on?" Dean flinched at his father's roar.
"My guess is we've found your Slayer." Buzz weaved in and out of the trees, was now just to their left. His bulk was barely shadow. Sullivan was closer, his silver blond hair standing out in the sparse light.
"Bastard grabbed Jackson right under our noses, used him to lead us to that stand of pines," Adams huffed.
"Once we got here there was no sign of Jackson or the slayer but it didn't take long to realize he'd used a little bit of magic of his own," Sullivan added. "Our wards were useless. My men turned on each other."
"We saw." John clenched his teeth as another arrow embedded itself in the tree. Dean fired another round before his father gripped his arm. "Save your ammunition. We're firing blind."
"I hope you got a plan, Winchester." Buzz hissed. "Because this cover is shabby at best, and I have a feeling our friend is just playing with us. There's nothing stopping him from circling around for an ambush."
"Caleb. Move." Dean felt his father shift, lean around the base of the tree to offer fire so Caleb could reach their location. The younger hunter rolled from his position, and Dean caught his breath when an arrow struck the snow inches from where Caleb had been.
"Florida is looking really, really good right now, Deuce." Caleb said as he came to a crouch close to Dean, who pressed his back against the tree to make room so they were still all three covered, if only barely, by the pines width. As it was they were practically on top of each other.
"You realize it's surrounded by the ocean." Caleb's dislike of the beach and anything sea-like was usually an off limit, below the belt kind of taunt, but Dean figured their situation allowed for absolution.
"After tonight, I might learn to love the sunny beach, sand, salt and all."
"Then next time maybe we'll obey orders," Dean replied, grinning despite the fact it felt like his heart was trying to pound its way free of his chest.
"I'll believe it when I see it." Dean's father surprised him by not chastising their banter, instead joining in. "Threat of death has never worked on either of your hard heads before. Why should now be any different?"
"Look, Deuce, Johnny chooses a most inappropriate time to get a sense of humor."
Dean snorted. "And Mac wonders where we pick up our bad habits."
"We have a situation here! My team is dead!" Sullivan growled. "What is wrong with you people?"
"Junior, I need you to do something," The Knight ignored the irate hunter beside them, gripping Caleb's arm. Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention, registering the new threat amongst them.
"Yes, sir." Caleb's reply was far from snide now, completely sincere and earnest in the heat of battle. The implications sent a chill racing down Dean's spine.
"I want you to distract that sonofabitch. Give Buzz and me an opening to do the circling around this time."
"How do you expect him to do that?" Dean understood he was stepping over an invisible line. His father's commands were not to be questioned in mundane, everyday situations. If he told you to take out the trash, start dinner or to go take a piss, you damn well did it. Hunting was another situation entirely. There was no room for resistance.
"What do you want me to do?" Caleb asked quickly before Dean's father could address his son's insubordination.
"Connect with it."
"What? No." Dean didn't give a shit about chain of command in that moment, years of training flying out the window in the face of doing what was right despite what his father thought was prudent. Two more arrows struck the side of the tree, punctuating his protests. "Mac said that was a bad idea, Dad. You heard him, Damien."
John Winchester had his son by the shirt in the blink of an eye. His fist twisted in the fabric threatening to choke Dean as he jerked him forward. "I have two men down, a third missing, four pinned in a no win situation. Our ammunition isn't limitless, and even if it was, we don't even know what bullets will do to that thing. As far as we know, you have to cut its head off to even begin to stop it. So if you have a better idea, hell, any idea, I'd love to hear it, Ace. If not, keep your damn mouth shut."
"I'll do it." Caleb gripped the mojo bag around his neck and started to take it off. "I've connected with black dogs and spirits, and things much worse in visions. This can't be much different."
John let go of Dean and stopped his protégé from slipping the ward from around his neck. For a second Dean thought his father had regained his senses. Dean wouldn't have to explain to Mac how he'd failed in his mission to watch Caleb's back. "You'll need to give us a few minutes. This could be our one chance to bag this thing, shut it down before it does anymore damage and maybe get Jackson back. Do you think you can handle that?"
Dean wanted to scream that Caleb had no idea what he could or could not handle because he had never tried to purposively connect with a reanimated telepathic corpse amped up on some witchdoctor's spell work.
"I'll give it my best shot."
"Good." John slapped his shoulder and then nodded to Buzz. "On my sign we break cover and double back. Sullivan you and Dean provide cover until Caleb gets a lock."
"How the hell will we know when that happens?" Sullivan demanded.
"You'll know." John met Caleb's gaze. "Okay, Junior."
Caleb didn't hesitate. He lifted the mojo from around his neck, tossing it aside. "I have to move away from you because of your wards." He shifted his gaze to Dean, the look unreadable although Dean imagined it was supposed to assure him that everything would be fine. Dean wasn't convinced. "I'm still being blocked."
"Go." John nodded to the tree-lined ridge where Sullivan and Adams had been hiding before Dean could utter a word of resistance. "There should work."
Dean did the only thing he could do. He turned and started firing in the direction that the arrows had continued to come from, determined to offer whatever protection he could, knowing there was no turning back from his father's plan at this point.
Caleb ran for it as Sullivan joined Dean in volleying rounds. Buzz and John took off to the right. At first the arrows kept coming, Dean kept firing, pausing only to reload. Time seemed to slow, the silence of the woods amplified by the bursts of noise. He imagined his father and Buzz, weaving their way through the trees, tried to mentally keep up with where they might be, but kept his firing high. A guttural scream came from the darkened woods before them and Dean chanced a look at Sullivan.
"Hold your fire," Gage ordered.
Dean searched the ridge behind them, hoping he could catch site of his friend, understanding that Caleb had accomplished some kind of connection with the Slayer when no more arrows came and another howl from the monster broke the night. It was primal and pain-filled, and disturbingly human. Dean prayed his father and Buzz made quick work to put the thing out of its misery.
"I take it Reaves has a lock," Sullivan questioned.
Dean nodded. "Sounds that way."
"What the hell is he doing to it?" Sullivan had made his way to Dean's side, keeping himself tucked against their cover.
"Have you seen Star Wars?" Dean met the older hunter's blue gaze.
"Who hasn't, Kid?"
"Let's just say Darth Vader has nothing on Caleb." Dean had been about thirteen when he first understood the kind of damage Caleb could inflict, that his abilities weren't just confined to premonitions and an uncanny sense of where Dean and Sam might be at any given time. It was a situation very unlike this one, a danger Dean had brought on himself by interceding on behalf of a girl from his school. The girl's stepfather was a monster of a different kind. Caleb had done what he'd been trained to do, protect Dean and Sam from anything evil. It had cost his friend in more ways than one. His best friend was powerful beyond any normal human scope; he was also inflicted with more humanity than most typical men Dean would encounter. He wanted to make sure Sullivan didn't misunderstand. "Only Caleb's one of the good guys."
"I hear that's still up for debate."
"What are you saying?"
"Nothing I'm sure you haven't heard before." Sullivan nodded towards the ridge as the slayer let out another cry. "Some of our ranks worry about where Reaves's abilities originate."
"Yet, those same people seem to have no problem with Caleb using those abilities if it serves their purposes." Dean wasn't just pissed at Sullivan. His anger extended to his own father as well. John Winchester wasn't exempt from such prejudices, or from exploiting his protégé's desires to prove himself worthy. The reminder was enough to prompt Dean to his feet, plan be damned.
"Where the hell are you going, Winchester? Your father said to stay put."
Dean felt no need to give the hypocritical hunter a response as he made his way up the ridge. He knew Caleb needed space because of the mojo bags, but wanted a visual in case things went south. He'd made Mac a promise to watch his son's back. He wasn't going to break it.
"Stay back." Caleb warned as Dean topped the hill. The older hunter was on his knees, about ten feet away, one hand braced against the snowy ground, the other held out to keep Dean from coming closer.
"Damien?" Dean wavered, but stayed put. Caleb had pulled off his hat and face mask, the light reflecting off the snow revealing his pale pallor. A streak of blood ran from his nose.
"It's fighting me…" Caleb kept his eyes squeezed shut. "I'm having a hard time keeping connected, while keeping it out. Like holding onto a fucking eel…"
"Then maybe you should just back off, man." Dean was torn, knowing his father and Buzz were counting on the distraction, but not liking the way Caleb was shaking, the look of pain on his screwed up features.
"No." Caleb shook his head. "Not yet."
Sullivan came alongside Dean, growling his disapproval. "Breaking cover was not smart."
"Then why follow me?"
"Because I for one know how to follow orders."
Caleb cried out, setting Dean's nerves on edge. He took a step towards his best friend, who was now doubled over, both hands brought to his head. "Caleb?"
"I can't hold it…" The psychic's voice was choked, his breathing too fast. "I can't keep it out."
"Let it go, Damien." Dean crossed the distance between then, kneeling in the snow. He wished his father would hurry the hell up and put an end to this. He and Adams had to be in position by now.
"I'm trying…" Caleb jerked as if he had been struck, another moan escaping.
It was enough to make up Dean's mind. Caleb's time as decoy was up. The Slayer obviously had the upper hand now, and Dean would use whatever he needed to thwart it. He placed his gun in its holster. Pulling the mojo bag he was wearing from beneath his jacket, he turned to Sullivan. "Help me. Get his hands."
"Your father..."
"I thought you didn't take orders from The Knight!" Dean glared at the older hunter. "You answer to The Guardian. I can promise you James Murphy will not understand the fact you sat by and let one of his boys get his brain pulverized by some psychic zombie. He'll have your ring, or worse, your head."
"Damn it." Sullivan dropped his rifle to the ground, joining Dean. "I knew this mission was going to be FUBAR as soon as you two showed up."
"Hang on, Damien." Dean nodded he was ready and Sullivan reached out to pull Caleb's hands out of the way. Caleb fought, but must have been weakened by the battle he was waging with the slayer. Dean didn't know if his friend could distinguish his fight with the monster in his head with the physical struggle. It didn't take Sullivan long to subdue him, and Dean quickly slipped the necklace over his friend's head. "Now yours."
"You know we'll be easy targets."
"Just do it."
The second ward barely touched the psychic's chest when Caleb jerked, going completely rigid before he slumped against Dean. "Easy, man. I got you."
"I need to warn your father and Adams."
Dean watched Sullivan slip his radio from his belt before focusing on Caleb once more. His friend was barely conscious, his body temperature and breathing registering as if he'd run a marathon.
"They're not answering."
A spurt of gun fire in the distance had them both jerking, Caleb stirring against Dean. He muttered something unintelligible. Dean clutched him tighter for a moment, fearing he'd made the wrong choice, hoping his decision didn't cost his father.
"I'll go." Sullivan seemed to read Dean's thoughts, started for the trail they'd come.
Dean eased Caleb to the ground, standing. He couldn't leave his friend defenseless. He could lay down some fire with the ammunition he had left. He pulled his gun free. "I'll cover you."
Sullivan turned to nod at Dean, but drew up short. Before Dean could register why, the other hunter brought up his rifle, pointing it at Dean. For a split instant Dean feared his fate to be like Sullivan's team. The Slayer had somehow gotten inside Sullivan's head now that he was not protected by Missouri's spell work.
"Winchester! Behind you!"
Dean whirled, catching a blur of gray an instant before he was hit. His gun was knocked from his hand. The blow sent him flying, like a dirty tackle from an offensive lineman. He slammed into Sullivan, both of them somersaulting head over heels down the steep incline. The snow padded their landing, but Dean's luck didn't hold. He ended up on the bottom of the pile, Sullivan's full weight landing on the younger hunter's right leg.
Something snapped and Dean saw stars. The pain threatened to send him over another ledge, this time into oblivion. He couldn't stop the cry of pain, wondering if his shout was as blood curdling and primal as the Slayer's had been earlier.
Dean was vaguely aware of Sullivan trying to get up, trying to help him, but the Slayer was quicker. It was down the embankment and on top of them. The Slayer flung the older hunter off Dean as if he were stuffed with cotton. Sullivan's body made a sick thud as it struck a tree, but Dean didn't dare chance a look. He kept his bleary gaze locked on the hideous face swimming in and out of focus before him, a flash of gold at its throat. Dean's attention was drawn to a patch of skull shining beneath thinned black and blue mottled flesh as the creature reached for him, its teeth flashing as it smiled in triumph. The smell of decay had Dean's stomach twisting. He tried desperately to scramble away, but the slayer stepped a massive black boot on Dean's injured leg and bore down its six foot muscled frame.
Blackness once more closed in on the edges of his vision. Dean screamed, the creature soon joining him with its own shrieks. Dean didn't understand. Blinking the beast into focus again as the pressure on his knee blessedly vanished. He was unsure if the monster was merely mocking him or eliciting some kind of battle victory cry, but then it stumbled further away from him, gripping its head much like Caleb had before.
"Damien." Dean turned his eyes to the ridge, caught sight of Caleb on his knees where it look like he'd half crawled, half slid his way down the embankment. He had Dean's gun, which he raised as soon as the slayer was away from Dean, firing what was left of the clip into the thing's chest and head. The slayer's body jerked with each direct hit, but didn't go down. When Sullivan recovered enough to add his own assault the slayer seemed to recognize it was time for a retreat. It moved with unnatural quickness, vanishing into the woods, Sullivan firing after it.
"Dean?" Caleb called out before he pitched forward and was still.
Dean struggled to get up, grasping his leg as it fired in pain. He got to a knee on his good leg. "Sullivan, a little help here."
The older hunter moved slowly since he was still recovering, but he reached out a strengthening arm and helped Dean up. Dean sharply exhaled, and blinked the tears coming unbidden as wave after wave of pain assaulted him.
"Standing on that leg is not a good idea, Kid."
"I'm not standing on that leg. I'm using my good one." Dean wanted to double over, but his need to go to Caleb overrode that idea.
They started the slow steps to Caleb, thankfully three painful steps were all that was needed as John and Buzz came running to them. Now that the Calvary had arrived, Dean hoped when he woke up next he was back in the cabin. He made eye contact with his father, hoped the bastard saw the anger reflected in his gaze and proceeded to promptly pass out.
To be continued…