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A Ghost of a Chance

Chapter 4

There was plenty of time before dawn so the Master of the Hunt decided to be more methodical than usual. This wasn't the usual prey after all, and a bit of caution was in order. He had the hounds split up to both sides of the street and back track checking for scent after checking and, not surprisingly, not finding any around the car.

They located the alley that Dean had hidden in within minutes and launched themselves down it at top speed. The hounds hit the salt line first with such force that if they actually had spines, their necks would have snapped. Instead, they simply bounced backwards into the legs of the charging steeds. Most of the rest of the pack charged right into the mess, only the Master of the Hunt and a handful of the more cautious of the pack were spared the indignity of joining the pile up.

"This one is going to be very interesting," said the Master of the Hunt, a smile spreading across his face. "Might even make my existence bearable again for a while," he thought.

The Master of the Hunt untangled the mess as quickly as he could, sending those pulled from the pile out of the alley to scout the streets to either side. He nodded approval as members of the pack started back down the alley, exercising caution as they went. The Wild Hunt they may be but stupid they were most definitely not.

Dean wasted no time on caution in the store. He simply threw a rock through the plate glass window and walked in. He was counting on being long gone before the police arrived and hoping that the store didn't have an alarm system for the police's sake. His luck held as there was no obvious alarm system.

"Ah, gotta love these small town stores," said Dean with a smile. "One stop shopping."

He gathered up what he needed into the largest cart he could find. It would be so much quicker and easier to transport with a vehicle but he couldn't risk the Master of the Hunt taking offense any more than he could risk them zeroing in on the sound of the engine. At this time of the morning they could assume that any engine sound was him since the rest of the town was sound asleep as if under a spell.

He headed for the school as quickly as he could. Trying to be stealthy would only allow the Wild Hunt to catch up with him. He did spread lots of salt on his trail and into some of the alleys he passed. Not nearly enough to actually form a barrier but hopefully it would make his scent harder to track. He got to the school and prepped as much as he could. He had some time but had no delusions about being able to finish to his preparations but he kept at it until he heard the baying of the hounds. That was the signal to finish his work and prepare himself to fight.

The Master of the Hunt looked at the moon as it hung low in the sky. They were running out of time. The caution they were forced to exercise earlier had cost them precious time, especially since no other traps had been discovered. The hounds had picked up his scent again where he left the store and picked up the pace as they followed the trail. When the hounds hit the first patch of scattered salt, they started jumping and dancing wildly as if on hot coals.

They had to slow down to avoid the salt patches and chased a few false trails when the salt led down an alley. But the Master of the Hunt quickly figured out what Dean's actual destination was although he didn't pass that information on to the Great Hunt. Wouldn't do for them to charge ahead too quickly even with time running out. But after about three blocks the salt ended and the Great Hunt had also figured out the destination of their quarry.

Finally having an actual scent trail to follow, the hounds took off at a lope with the horsemen close behind. The Master of the Hunt got them to heel but it was becoming progressively more difficult. It had been a long, frustrating night for the Hunt and they were becoming more and more restless. As a result they were also becoming more and more reckless. This wasn't good for the Hunt and the Master of the Hunt realized he needed to finish this quickly. Dawn was less than an hour away as well which only increased the Hunt's recklessness.

The Master of the Hunt allowed two of his wolves to scout ahead at a sprint. The Hunt could afford the loss of two but he kept the rest on a tight rein and at a safe distance, following the baying of the wolves as they charged head long after their intended prey. Within fifteen minutes the Master of the Hunt realized that they were starting to gain on the lead wolves even though they kept a steady pace.

"So we have found where he has chosen to make his stand" said the Master of the Hunt. "Members of the Great Hunt! Our prey is close but he is also cunning! We will be victorious but to do so we must also be cunning. We cannot simply go charging in trying to overwhelm this prey, we must be cautious and wary of the traps he has most certainly set for us. Take your positions in groups of four and search each room and be quick but be cautious. NOW GO!"

As he mentioned groups of four the members of the Great Hunt instinctively split up into groups most beneficial for small hunting parties. With the last statement the most impetuous groups immediately bolted for the front doors of the school. When they went through the doors instead of bouncing off of a salt barrier the confidence of the other groups was bolstered and they sprinted for the door as well. The Master of the Hunt held the most experienced group with him. They remained calm while the rest showed outward signs of their mounting frustration. Not that they weren't frustrated as well, they were just keeping it in check, ready to let it turn to battle rage when the time was right.

As he entered the school he saw the last of the groups he sent ahead enter a room. Right after that he noticed motion at the end of the hallway and at the same time all of the classroom doors slammed shut. He looked back to the end of the hall to see Dean going through a door and slamming it shut behind him.

The Master of the Hunt examined the first door and saw the burlap tube of salt attached to the bottom of it, effectively trapping the spirits within the room. Looking up, he saw the rope and pulley system Dean had used to close all the doors at once. He let out a beastial roar as he punched the locker nearest him, putting his fist completely through the door and pushing the back a full three inches into the brick and cinderblock wall.

"I have greatly underestimated this opponent," said the Master of the Hunt. "Trap him but DO NOT kill him! The honor of this kill is mine and mine alone. He has made a fool of me and must pay for his impertinence."

With that, the Master of the Hunt drew his sword and stormed down the hall towards the door that Dean had disappeared through. He knew the outcome but kicked at the door anyway. As he had suspected it didn't give. Dean had salted the other side. Not against the rules as there were other ways to get to him but every obstacle slowed him down that much more and his time was running out. It was only fifteen minutes until dawn. Dean was coming very close to beating him at his own game.

"Be careful what you wish for," the Master of the Hunt mumbled to himself as he signaled the four remaining members of the Great Hunt to go down the left hallway as he went down the right.

Dean waited behind the door to the gymnasium. It was one of only three doors in and the other two had salt lines sealing them shut. He was ready to close and salt this door as soon as something came in. Hopefully he could get the door shut and salted in time to block most of them out but it was pot luck. The glance he got before salting the door looking into the main hallway told him that he had managed to thin them down to five, the Master of the Hunt himself and four of his more cautious lackeys. He could only hope that he could manage to hold them off for the fifteen minutes or so until dawn.

The Master of the Hunt turned the corner and saw the open door. But was it a trap or was it Dean waiting for him for the final battle. Having no more time for caution, he simply walked through the door into the gymnasium. He hadn't walked ten feet into the room when the door slammed behind him. He turned and saw Dean laying a salt line across the door.

"You have proven to be a worthy adversary," said the Master of the Hunt. "Too bad your life ends today."

With that last comment he closed the distance between himself and Dean in the blink of an eye, swinging for Dean's neck.

Dean ducked under the swing and went into a forward roll, bouncing up to sprint to the small pile of meager weapons he had gotten from the store. It was no more than several pieces of wrought iron fence pieces and a half a dozen pieces of two by two's cut

roughly into three foot lengths with iron nails through one end. He grabbed one of each and turned to face the Master of the Hunt just in time to barely block a vicious slash at his rib cage that sent him staggering. Dean giggled almost maniacally as the image of the Arabian guard chasing Bugs Bunny, slashing away at him and screaming "Hassan Chop!" popped into his head.

"You find this funny boy?!" asked the Master of the Hunt, anger creeping into his voice.

Dean lost control of his laughter and lunged at the Master of the Hunt, swinging wildly with such fury that he forced his opponent back several steps. He was like a Viking warrior lost in the Berserker Fury. There was nothing but the battle, live or die didn't matter anymore to him. The only thing that mattered was taking out his opponent at all costs.

The Master of the Hunt quit talking; all of his focus was required just to fend off Deans attacks. There was no chance for him to counter attack. As the battle raged across the gym he noticed his four Lieutenants enter from the locker room, where Dean hadn't had a chance to salt the windows, and at a warning glance from him took up positions on the bleachers to watch. Win or lose, their part was over in this hunt so they settled in to watch a battle the likes of which they had never seen.

Even that momentary lapse of concentration was costly to the Master of the Hunt. In the split second that he was distracted, Dean landed a blow to his ribs. The club shattered but left two of the iron nails impaled in his body. When he disengaged enough to be able to remove the barbs, Dean grabbed another club from his pile. No member of the Hunt tried to interfere with him.

Dean went right back after the Master of the Hunt like an animal, swinging with every ounce of energy he had. The problem however, was simple biology. Each swing was becoming slower and had less force. The lack of sleep and a night on the run was taking its toll and adrenalin was only good for so long and it was beginning to fail him.

The Master of the Hunt sensed the slowing of Dean's attack and began to press back with his own attacks. Dean managed to fend off most of them but every attack he failed to stop slowed him down that much more. Dean was covered with dozens of cuts. None of them would be lethal on their own but the blood he was losing from them weakened him that much more.

When Dean could barely swing his weapons anymore, the Master of the Hunt threw down his sword and began pummeling him. He let his rage and frustration loose with each swing but no matter how hard he hit Dean, he simply wouldn't stay down. Oh, he knocked him down several times but Dean simply got back up again. Slowly granted, but he simply wouldn't quit no matter what.

Finally, with a full five minutes to go before dawn, Dean was punching at the Master of the Hunt with such little force that it wouldn't have staggered a five year old. He had dropped his weapons a few minutes earlier when he no longer had the strength to hold onto them.

"Well done Dean, well done. It's been a long time since I've faced a challenge like you. From the beginning, you have shown me the skill and determination of a true warrior. You have truly earned the title of Hunter Dean Winchester," said the Master of the Hunt as he walked to the center of the gym. "It has been centuries since I faced an opponent anywhere near your caliber. It has been a most invigorating night."

"Quit posturing and finish this you ass hat!" Dean tried to yell. "Just finish this already. I'm too tired and sore to listen to you monologuing."

"But you misunderstand me Dean," said the Master of the Hunt. "Tonight is the first time in literally centuries that I've actually felt almost alive again! You could have evaded me until dawn, but instead you chose to stand and fight. I will NOT dishonor that by killing you or the girl. You have earned your reprieve as well as hers. You are both forevermore safe from the Great Hunt."

As he said the last comment Dean collapsed, no longer able to even raise his head from the floor. The Master of the Hunt walked over and effortlessly picked up Dean and took him back to the motel where Sally waited.

She covered her mouth with her hands to stifle a scream when she saw the Master of the Hunt carrying Dean towards her. "YOU BASTARD!" she screamed. "He shouldn't have had to die for me!"

"And he didn't," said the Master of the Hunt. "While he is badly injured, he will heal in time. He fought with honor and with passion and he earned my respect this night and he did it for you, a woman he barely knows. Honor that and help him to heal."

With that, the Master of the Hunt gently laid Dean on the ground in front of the door and then disappeared.