CHAPTER 7
Dancing Badger moved forward, unclipped his gun, set it on the dirt and started moving to my left. He was trying to get the sun in my eyes. I took one step and struck out with my left leg, forcing him to move to the right to avoid getting hit. He blocked but still took a step to the right, I didn't let up. I took a chance, once my left leg reset I spun on it and aimed a round kick at his face. It was a bad choice. He ducked, came up, step forward and launched a straight jab at my face. My head snapped back and I tasted blood.
His minions laughed, that was a bad choice on their part. It's not the first time I'd been hit in the face, Badger may be strong but he's not a vampire.
Badger apparently thought that would get his point across, "You have no place here."
I smiled and responded with a right hook aimed low, he blocked that which was fine by me because my left cross was what I had planned to hit him with. Feeling his jaws rattle under my fist was very rewarding. He reeled and stepped back. I planted my left foot, spun and possibly dislocated his knee when my right heel landed on it. He howled and almost dropped but caught himself and barely stayed standing. He took a couple of deep breaths and I watched him, his face was distorted more in rage than pain, he reached behind him and pulled his knife.
"Dancing Badger," I said, "we were having a fun little fight, you pull that it's going to get a lot more serious. Is this a step you really want to take?"
He screamed and brought his arm up and across, I hopped out of the way and drew my own blade. Badger was holding his knife like you see in movies, the point out and held in front of him. It looks intimidating but it's a limiting stance. I had purposely bought a knife with a longer hilt so I could hold it with the blade laying across my forearm and not get sliced. Badger's way got you extra reach, mine gave me more options and allowed me to use it to defend not just attack.
"Have it your way." I love knife fighting. I waited.
He lunged at me again blade in his right hand, point aimed at my chest, my knife was in my right hand, I twisted out of the way and brought my blade down along his forearm. Normally I'd follow that up with a stab to his gut but I really didn't want to kill him. He repaid my generosity by elbowing me in the throat, I couldn't breathe but I kept moving. I was already spinning away from him following the slice across his forearm, I used the extra momentum he had been kind enough to give me with his elbow and completed the spin, crouched down and sliced my blade across the calf of the same leg I'd already injured. I'd gone easy on his forearm but I made sure I cut deep into his calf. He lost his balance, fell, rolled and tried to get back up.
I was still trying to suck in air but I couldn't let up. I stepped on the knee I'd already hit, pushed down and twisted my foot, he screamed in pain and started panting. My other foot pinned his knife arm to the ground and I stood there. I'm not an idiot, he still had one good arm and I wasn't about to kneel down to place my knife on his neck.
"Enough?" I croaked when my throat started working again.
"Coyote!" I heard Dean's voice at the same time I heard scuffling behind me. Dan had crawled away while Badger and I were having fun. I hadn't forgotten him but I had lost track of him in the last exchange, I twisted to the right more out of instinct then actually knowing where he and felt a blade cut into my just above my left hip.
"Bastard!" I hissed, my arm was already moving and it laid a four inch long, deep slice across Dan's chest. He had aimed for my unarmed side thinking it'd be safer. Idiot, the only reason I didn't lay his throat wide open was because I caught myself at the last minute and shifted my aim. He stumbled and fell onto Badger's face, whimpering in pain. I looked at the two others, Hunting Snake and Sitting Bear. "Are you two here to watch or fight?"
"Observers," Sitting Bear answered, "Dancing Badger said he would prove his worth. We were to report what happened."
"Fine, this one," I kicked Dan in the ribs, he grunted. "Will probably need stitches. You may want to see to that. Badger, done?" Silence greeted my question. I pushed Dan off of Badger who's face was covered with Dan's blood. He glared up at me.
"Dean." I said and held my hand out but didn't look away from Badger's face. I heard the car door open, Dean's measured stride come towards me and the familiar weight of my gun was in my hand. Dean walked away, I cocked it then gave Badger a very good view of the barrel of a .45. "Done?"
He nodded.
"Speak," I growled.
His mouth twisted in disgust, "Done."
I still didn't look away from those rage filled, black eyes. "You two, observe that and report it to whoever you want. I'm done with proving myself. Next person that starts something with me I will not be as nice to. Got it?"
"Yes," They both replied.
"Pull the trucks out of the way, I need to get going." I backed away slowly from Badger, keeping an eye on him. I heard Dean push open my door, I got it and looked at him. Every muscle in his face and body was tensed, ready to strike. I could tell his adrenaline was pumping and his hand was wrapped a old Colt long barreled revolver that had a five pointed star inside a circle engraved on the handle.
"That's new."
He slowly turned his head to look at me and for a second I thought I'd be safer outside of the car than in it, "Don't ever expect me to do that again." His tone wasn't a growl, it was something much darker and more dangerous.
"I..."
"Shut up and drive," he ordered. "Your face is going to swell, here." Then he handed me one of the ice packs that Stella had given us for the food.
"Thanks," I took it from him and he looked out the window.
The trucks pulled out of the way and I started driving again.
After a few miles he had calmed down, "Pull over, let me look at your side. You're bleeding on your seat."
"Oh, crap." I hadn't forgotten about the cut but the ferocity of his reaction when I had gotten back into the car had pushed me to act, not tend to my wounds. I did as he said, "There's a first aid kit in the trunk," I told him.
"Fine, I'll get it." We pulled over and got out.
Sam pulled up behind us, got out and looked just as pissed off at me as Dean had been. "What were you thinking?" He snarled as he walked up to me.
"Dean already yelled at me."
"Like I care. There were four of them! Jesus! Are you ok?" He pulled my shirt up to check the slice in my side. The gash was only about two inches long and not very deep, Dan was too drunk to do it right apparently.
"Hey!" I objected.
"Shut up, I've stitched you up before. Dean, get some butterfly bandages if she has any. I don't think she'll need stitches."
"Yeah she has some, move," Dean replied. He had my bottle of hydrogen peroxide, gauze and some butterfly bandages with him. Although he was angry, his hands were gentle but the amount of hydrogen peroxide he put on the gauze wasn't.
"Holy shit!" I hissed.
"Quit whining," he admonished, "Be happy it's not cheap whiskey. That hurts worse." He held the gauze in place for a minute, peeled it off, got fresh gauze and applied another helping of disinfectant to that, wiped the wound down then bandaged it. "Good luck getting blood out of those leather seats."
"Thanks," I muttered. I walked to my trunk and pulled out a bottle of club soda. "I think ahead." I pulled off my shirt and soaked the bloody areas with it, grabbed some towels from the back, wiped the blood off the seat, dumped some hydrogen peroxide on the seat, let it sit, then wiped that up too.
"Huh," Dean said, "Disinfects and cleans leather. Handy stuff."
"You're welcome," I told him, pulled another shirt on and got back in the car. "Let's go."
The rest of the trip was uneventful. Most people would relax pulling into their home city, I got grew even more nervous. The fight with Badger was easy compared to what was coming up. Dean stayed quiet and tense. The conversation he had promised me that we'd have after all this over was probably going to be a long one.
Once I started passing houses I slowed down to a much safer speed, kids have a habit of running into streets. As the scenery changed and we got farther onto the Reservation, Dean's face grew pensive. We passed several dilapidated houses that in most cities would have been condemned and torn down, but here upwards to fifteen people crowded into them. There were some newer trailers and houses mixed in but it was fairly obvious that luxury living and gated communities did not abound out here. The houses were spread far apart, kids and adults wearing old, faded clothes were washing clothes in buckets, grilling over open pits and carrying large bundles of supplies back and forth.
"Is all of it like this here?" He asked.
"Pretty much, there's some more newer construction closer into town but the average high end income here is about $5000 a year or so. Most winters people run out of money for propane to heat their houses and we have to raise money from outside sources." The Reservation has an odd feel to it, there's this sense of both depression and hopelessness but somehow people are still proud of who they are. Some of them are anyway.
"Why don't people leave, like you did?"
"This is our home Dean, our family. I don't know if I can explain it to you. We're a defeated people who refuse to die out. Not all tribes are this bad off but there's not a lot of point to putting casinos out in the middle of nowhere South Dakota." I paused. "Hunting is a horrible lifestyle, you have no home, no real friends, you're constantly putting yourself in harm's way, you don't get paid and rarely get any gratitude. Yet you keep doing it. Same theory applies here. Hunting is who you are, who your family was. You couldn't quit it if you tried. We're Lakota, that's who we are."
He looked at me, regret simmering in his eyes, "Sam got out. I pulled him back in. I should have left him alone."
"Why'd you pull him back in?"
"Dad needed help." He looked out of the window again.
"Did you guys help him? Where is he anyway?" I asked.
Dean didn't speak.
"Oh. God, I'm sorry." I saw tears welling up in his eyes but he brushed them away.
"He made the same deal I did, to save me," he started to explain.
"How long did he get?"
"About five minutes," he answered and lapsed into silence again.
I placed my hand over his, "Dean, if Sam knew something had happened to you while he was happy at school it would tear him up inside. He could have said no, you didn't make him do anything."
He pulled his hand away, "Maybe."
I let the subject drop. I knew him well enough to know that he would always blame himself for anything that went wrong, even if there was nothing he could have done to stop it.
We had reached the main part of town and I could sense agitated mood of the people there. People were hurrying to finish the lodge and anxious about Dean and Sam being there. I pulled up to Rising Dove's small, single wide trailer. My head was throbbing from Badger's hit and the cut in my side wasn't helping. I had no idea how I was going to get through such an intense ceremony feeling like this.
"This is Rising Dove's place," I told Dean. When I stood up to get out of the car I swayed as the position shift registered with the pressure in my head.
"Hey, take it easy," Dean said.
"Can't."
Sam joined us and wrapped his arm around my waist, "I'm sure falling over will really help your reputation right now. Breathe."
My head settled down and I nodded a silent thanks to Sam. He let me go and they followed me up the three stairs to the porch. I entered without knocking, no one could miss the sound of both my car and Baby pulling up to their house.
I was greeted with a warm cup of tea before I even made it to Rising Dove's living room. "Here. It will help your head," he said. He had met me in the candlelit front entryway, the smell of burning sage draped the room and instantly my nerves settled down. Several woven wall hangings with symbols of my people covered the walls, he decorated more for a sense of texture and story telling than an overwhelming theme or design. I took a few deep breaths and allowing the calming energy of his house to works it way up my legs and into my soul.
"Thank you," I said then took a few steps further in so Sam and Dean could join us inside. Once they closed the door I looked at Rising Dove and introduced the Winchesters. "Teacher, this is Sam and Dean Winchester. Guys, Rising Dove, my Teacher."
I tend to forget just how tall the brothers are until I see them next to other people, Rising Dove stands about four inches shorter than I do but Sam dwarfed him and Dean's slightly bulkier frame made up for any apparent lack of height because of standing next to Sam. My Teacher's long, greying hair was loose, which was odd and it drifted around his shoulders, covering much of the elaborate bead work that was on his shirt. He had delicate features for a Native and had somehow escaped that craggy, leathery, wind beaten look you see in photos of older Natives. Maybe it's because he doesn't spend all day in the sun. He had just turned sixty five this last year but nothing in his bearing gave away his age. His back was straight, eyes sharp and alert and he could outrun a great many of the younger men in town. When he wasn't running ceremonies, he taught at the school, helped organize tribal politics, wrote books and lectured about the history of Native Americans.
I gave Dean an extra hard look. The fact that Rising Dove had handed me tea and made the comment about my head hadn't escaped Dean, who would probably assume that Rising Dove had known what was going to happen. I didn't need him to already start challenging my Teacher. His face stayed blank, oh hell.
Sam was the first to reach out to shake my teacher's hand.
Rising Dove returned the gesture, "Thank you for coming," he said, "I know you traveled a long way."
Dean just stood there, "Did you know those guys were going to take a shot at her?"
"Dean!" Sam and I snapped at the exact same moment.
"It's fine," my teacher replied. "I saw Running Badger and the others head out and assumed that was his intention."
Dean's shoulders tensed and his right hand balled into a fist, "You didn't see fit to try to stop them or call her and let her know?"
I stepped in between the two, Dean's ice cold green eyes pierced mine and I swore I could hear his teeth grinding, "Stop this right now," I warned, my wintry tone matching the temperature of his gaze.
Rising Dove's hand lightly touched my shoulder, "Running Coyote, sister, daughter, step down."
I moved to the side but I didn't take my eyes off Dean. Sam hadn't overtly moved but had shifted slightly behind my teacher, ready to back his brother if needed.
"Dean, you are the eldest in your family correct?" My teacher continued. Dean nodded. "You want to protect those you care for, that is noble and honorable. However, if I protect her, others will continue to doubt her skills and her right to be here. This was not the first battle she has fought and it won't be the last. I would not make her lose respect in front of others by fighting her battles for her. She may one day lead this tribe, she can't do that if she has not earned their respect. Besides, if I had stopped Dancing Badger he would have merely waited for another opportunity and she would not have had the benefit of you and your brother being there."
Dean wanted to keep pushing, it was written all over his face but he also knew my Teacher's logic was right. The brothers had led a rough enough life that he understood how fighting for respect worked. His eyes shifted back to me, some of the frozen wasteland look left them, he unclenched his fist, slowly extended his hand out and the two men shook hands.
"I told her we'd do this her way and I don't go back on my word," he told my Teacher. That list of things we'd be talking about was getting a lot longer and there would probably be some screaming involved. Dean switched to business topics, "How are the two of your people who are possessed holding up?"
Rising Dove turned his head slightly, acknowledging Sam's presence behind him, Sam stepped out from behind Rising Dove and the tension left the room. Rising Dove turned and gestured down the hall towards the living room. I led the way, Sam and Dean followed and he feel in step behind them.
"They are alive, they have not eaten or had much to drink since they were taken over. We've never seen that before."
"Once demons take a person over they can pretty much ignore biology," Sam said. "They seem to be able to keep a body going just using their energy or feeding off the soul of the person to push the body far past what it should be able to do. We're not quite sure which it is."
We reached Rising Dove's living room, he had two longer couches, one loveseat and a recliner comfortable close to each other. They were all different colors but prevailing shade was beige although he brightened them up with different colored pillows strewn across them. A large wall hanging of a Thunderbird, the symbolic Native bird, not the car, was on the north wall. There were two small side tables with books and papers scattered across them and he had cleaned off the usually cluttered coffee table since he knew he'd have guests. The floor was covered with various carpets, the place just felt homey, welcoming and comforting. It was early spring and the sliding glass door gave you a view of his herb and vegetable garden that always seemed to survive the harshest weather. It was a mild day so the door was opened a few inches allowing a deliciously scented breeze to waft through the room.
We all sat down, Sam taking the recliner which faced the glass door.
"Water?"
Sam jumped at the sound of a voice behind him. Everyone that he thought was in the house was sitting in front of him.
"Hey Cougar," I said, "Thanks, I'll take some with lemon in it. Get some for them too please."
Sam turned his head and had to raise it a lot higher than he was used to doing to meet Cougar's eyes. Cougar Kills Bear is maybe an inch shorter than Sam, two inches wider in the shoulders and as stealthy as his namesake. We've also been friends since we could walk.
"Got it," Cougar said, the floor didn't squeak once as he walked away. Dean and Sam glanced at each other, then looked at me.
"That's an actual friend of mine," I told them.
"Good thing too," Sam replied.
Dean shook his head and looked at my Teacher. "So this Ceremony. You still think we have to do this? We could get your people free of the demons in about thirty minutes without it."
My Teacher looked at the brothers. He was sitting on the corner of the couch and had both of them in his field of view. When I say looked he wasn't just glancing at them or meeting their eyes. I can't even call his gaze piercing. It's this thing he does where he looks at you, around you, through you and above you all at the same time. The few times he has done it to me it always feels like the world is spinning and I'm about to fall over.
The brothers tried to hide it, at first they just shifted positions, then Sam's eyes started to widen in fear and surprise, his hands tightened on the arms of the recliner and the wood beneath his hands started to creak from the force of his grip. Dean started to shake, he wrapped his arms around his stomach and leaned forward. I thought he was about to vomit until I heard him sucking in deep breaths. My Teacher closed his eyes and chanted something so softly I couldn't make it out. When he finished chanting Sam's death hold on the arms of the chair relaxed and Dean stopped gasping for air and slowly sat back up.
"Yes, I do," my Teacher answered.
"What did you do?" Sam asked, eyes still wide. "We've been hit by witches, demons, vampires and plenty of other things and nothing has ever felt like that."
"I touched your Warrior Spirit," My Teacher replied, I had never seen such compassion and sadness on his face. He looked at Dean, "That thing that you have bound yourself to didn't appreciate it much. It was pulling to get away, that's what you felt."
"You can make hellhounds run away?" Dean asked, a wild hope in his eyes.
"No, what is attached to you is merely a shade of the true thing. It's a marker, so the actual hound can find you when the time comes."
The hope in Dean's eyes died. "Oh."
"Sorry, brother Dean, I truly am." Their eyes met and I felt the intensity of understanding between my Teacher and Dean. Natives have been stuck in a version of hell since white people first set foot on this continent.
"What does that mean? Touching our Warrior Spirit?" Sam, ever the curious one, asked.
"It would take much longer than we have to explain. Perhaps the best way to phrase it was that I touched your chi, or soul. Those terms have more meaning for most people."
Cougar came back and handed out the water.
"Why?" Sam asked as he took his glass.
"So you can begin to understand," Rising Dove said.
"When he touches your Warrior Spirit," Cougar added in a voice as quiet as his footsteps, "He is pulling all versions of you, the present, past and future, into being at one time. At first it's overwhelming, all those parts of you, especially if you had no idea that they existed at all. Then, when you learn to listen, then you understand that you never start and never end. You are part of everything."
Rising Dove smiled gently and chuckled, "He should be the Shaman, not me. I can never phrase things as eloquently as Cougar can."
Cougar smiled back, "I just sum up what you say in your books."
"Yes, but what it takes me five hundred pages to say you do it in three sentences."
"It's a good thing white people like to pay for five hundred page books or you'd be in trouble," Cougar replied then walked out.
I'd been drinking my tea while they talked and the throbbing in my head was starting to lessen already, Rising Dove knew his herbs. The brothers glanced at each other and I saw something in Dean, a side I doubt he'd ever shown before. He was at a loss not only for words but for understanding and he was slowly realizing that he wasn't in control of this situation. What surprised me was the fact that he seemed almost willing to accept that. Sam gave him a slight nod, he's eyes widened slightly, then he looked away.
He took off his jacket, laid it on the couch next to him and looked back up at my Teacher, "What do we have to do?"
I almost choked on my tea.
