Chapter 7: The Black Lake

"This place is fucking creeping," whispered Dean as he ducked under a burnt branch, spider webs surprisingly hanging from it regardless of the apparent lack of life in the misty area. "Can't we have one ghost that haunts a sunny resort or a nice titty bar? Nooo, we have to take a right from the Children of the Corn into Ash City. Ugh, my mouth tastes charcoal-y."

"I think that is the least of our problems," murmured Sam as he wandered back towards his brother, the taller Winchester covered in soot and ash; he looked like he had just escaped a fire. "I lost the kids' tracks."

"What?!" barked Dean, before he quickly lowered his voice so Jet (who was trying to climb a charred tree to get a vantage point) wouldn't hear them. "What do you mean the path is gone? That was our only clue. The crazy witch is probably dragging them near her remains or the artifact she kept from her life. We need that trail."

"Well it's gone, Dean," growled back Sam, pointing in the direction he had come from. "The path just ends, nothing but soot."

"Well, what else are we supposed to do? Wander around here? I can tell you I'm getting the heebee-jeebees just being here. This dead forest is hers, Sam. It's been, what, years since this fire and nothing, not even weeds are growing here. And this ash mist crap, talk about Silent Hill rip off, but if we get lost in here we might never get out," growled back Dean.

Jet, who couldn't hear what the two brothers were bickering about down below, was busy looking for his friends. He had to save them. He had to just save one to show her, to show Smeller Bee, that he was not evil! Just because he was a fire-bender didn't automatically make him a villain.

Right?

Blinking back tears, Jet blamed his wet eyes on the ashy mist that surrounded them as he spotted something in the distance. Stalling, he squinted to make sure that it wasn't a burnt tree in the distance and then, just as he was assured that it was merely a body shaped tree, it moved. Gasping, the teenager reeled back only to realized his error … the teenager falling to the ground with a half scream, his body sending up a rolling fog of dust.

The two brothers at least stalled in their whispered argument long enough to lean over him and ask, "You okay, match-stick?"

Just lying there a moment, the breath complete stolen from him, he struggled just to cough.

"He's good," said Dean as he leaned forward and offered the teenager a hand, helping a nearly black Jet to his feet as the older man patted him on his back. "Yep, you can stand and you don't seem to have any broken bones. He's good."

Sam at least took a moment to look the teenager over to make sure there really were no broken bones before he murmured, "It seems so … but I worry he might have attracted attention with that scream. We should keep moving."

Jet, still a little disoriented, suddenly shook his head, pointing, "No, no … we have to go that way. I-I saw something."

"Something," murmured Dean. "What did you see?"

"I think it was human."

The silence that followed was deafening until Sam and Dean both grabbed their weapons of choice. Sam seemed to have some kind of iron bar with a point at one end and Dean had pulled out what looked like long wooden stick with two metal barrels fashioned to it. Jet didn't know how else to describe it but it fit in Dean's hand perfectly. He knew that the other kids had caught Dean cleaning the strange weapon more than once, but when asked about it Dean would always reply, 'It's best if you don't know, kid.'

"I get the shotgun, because I'm lame," joked Dean slightly, Sam just gave him a blank look apparently happy with his tire iron.

"Hey, kid … Want salt duty?" asked Dean as he threw a circular canister at the teenager. Jet caught it with ease and frowned at the strange silhouette-girl on the container with her umbrella. It was the same canister from the 'possessed' fiasco early that morning. Now it was late afternoon, the trip through the ash forest taking longer than any of them would have guessed.

"Do I have a choice?" grumbled Jet, a little upset that he wasn't asked to use his swords and instead was given a container of salt. Did they want him to fire-bender? Surely not. He'd rather gorge out one of his own eyes.

Voicing his concerns, Jet spoke, "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Throw it at the witch and if she kills all of us … make a salt circle to protect yourself. It's really not that hard," whispered Dean.

Jet, now looking at the salt in a new way, frowned. Part of him had always just assumed Sam and Dean were telling tales and lying to him like most adults did, especially with those fake names. Really, what kind of names were Sam and Dean? But now the stories didn't seem so exaggerated and honestly … he was kind of scared.

"I must admit … I'm kind of impressed," said Raijo as he stared upward. "A normal unit might not have even noticed unless they looked up and when marching that is unlikely. The only trouble they might have is ticks though I doubt children much mind ticks."

Ling, who was staring up at the tree village as well, frowned and stated to the old Fire Master, "Are you sure it was the children that built this? Though a bit barbaric in design it is well thought out."

The tracker, who had climbed up one of the many dropped rope ladders to the children's tree-village, nodded down, speaking in a soft voice. "Yes, looking at the belongings, most of the huts are owned by children though one looks like it belongs to an adult."

"Probably the Moose," grumbled Shui, recalling when Sam had attacked him and Ling by the supply tent.

"Maybe," agreed Raijo as he signaled for the tracker to come down. "Well, let's be off. If we hurry we might be able to save Jet from whatever mess he has gotten into be it a spirit or not."

Though his words were calm and clear, Shui and Ling could not help but note how Raijo grasped at his prayer beads as he walked forward. He was upset … Did he not expect to find Jet alive? Nervously, Shui and Ling threw each other a glance in worry, having been told of the Unmother by Raijo as they traveled. If she was real … would any of them even have a chance?

The tracker, it seemed, answered the question for them all as he suddenly took off in a jog. Raijo surprisingly limber for being as old as he was.

It was amazing how quiet the two brothers were as they crept towards the mysterious figure, even though Dean had on a cast. It was a practiced kind of grace that only hunters could develop and it seemed that the two brothers' had been developing the skill for a long time. It was kind of unnerving actually. These two men were killers and yet they weren't cold like murderers. There was honor all about both of them. Jet found that for the first time in his life he actually respected an adult besides his mother … and Shui, but Shui had shown what a lie that was.

"Sammy … what do you see?" finally asked Dean, Sam in the front because he was far more limber then his handicap brother at the moment.

Sam peered for a moment more, looking for the telltale signs that it was a spirit before them, but the air hadn't grown colder and there was not the usual flicker that spirits had. Whoever was before them had their back to them though… and he or she was a child if the height was any indication.

Holding his tire iron close, Sam turned back and nodded to Dean, "I think it's one of the kids … watch my back."

"Sam … wait," growled Dean in a soft whisper as the handicap brother got to his feet as well, limping after his brother. His leg seemed to be mostly healed because this little adventure wasn't bothering his leg as much as one would have thought it would.

Jet, not knowing what else to do, followed the two hunters as they both headed over to the small figure. The closer they got, the more obvious it was that it was a child, his back to them and his top knot messy and ruined. His clothes looked fairly fancying though despite all the ash that was making them look grey. He looked like he was a rich kid. Jet knew that all too well because none of his wild boys had ever had clothes like that.

Meanwhile, Sammy continued to get closer to the small boy, yet just as he reached forward to tap the boy on the shoulder, he decided to act on the side of caution. His words were soft as he spoke in Chinese, "Hey, kid. Are you okay? Where are the others?"

Dean, watching as he leaned against a nearby tree to support his leg, pulled his bow out for silence's sake because a part of his mind was now playing re-runs of the Grudge. He was positive that the kid did not have a jaw or had his intestines half pulled out or something … especially with how slowly the kid was turning his head.

Surprisingly, as a thin angular face turned to look at Sam, the kid appeared to be alive. And yet he was looking at Sam with emotionless eyes still standing in the same position he had been in as if the rest of his body was dead or rooted to the ashy ground. Despite the child's prolonged silence, Sam decided to reached forward and touch the boy. Yet, just as he was about to get a firm grip on an emaciated arm, the boy suddenly sprang forward into a healthy sprint, throwing up dust and disappearing into the mist.

Dean and Sam shared a look before the elder brother grumbled, "It's probably a trap."

"Yeah, but it's also our only clue," murmured back Sam before he suddenly set off, running after the disappearing figure.

Dean, for his part glared down at his cast and grumbled, "See … because of you we are missing out on all the ass kicking. God, it's been so long since I've killed anything."

Running up to Dean, Jet stalled long enough to ask, "Are you talking to your leg?"

"Yes … my brother keeps running away," grumbled Dean as he started hobbling after his brother like a one-legged chicken.

Still not really understanding the whole situation and more than a little afraid of the Unmother, the preteen asked, "Do you want me to stay with you?"

"Hell, no … Go after the idgit," barked Dean, a part of him realizing just how useless he was with a bum leg.

Though he had no idea what an 'idgit' was, Jet nodded and pulled out his hooked swords, the salt placed in his side pack. He ran as quickly and quietly as he could, hoping that either Sam or Dean would be impressed with his speed and grace in combat. Shui had always compliment it and stated that he would be a wonderful foot soldier. And for a while … Jet had liked that idea. He had liked Ling and Shui's compliments on his skill and drive but when that Fire Master had been placed before him, Master Jinjaa, Jet had been reminded that he was a captive and was basically expected to be an heir to a man that didn't even raise him. His mother raised him alone. His mother suffered the village's hatred and exclusion alone. His mother died waiting for him alone! He would not please that man or be a filthy fire-bender!

All Jet was sure about was that he did not want to die like his mother and that he hated that man that said he was his father. And yet, a sick part of him wanted his father's attention and love. He thought that his makeshift group of orphans would fill the void after he ran away. That they would make him feel complete, but they didn't. Yes, he did care about them but there was this void that could not be filled, this anger that would not rest.

Though, now, he thought the hole probably could be filled.

Sam, despite being angry, had comforted him outside the Fire Nation camp and Dean had offered trust through responsibility. He liked the two hunters even more so because he did not think he could go back to the group of orphans. Even if they survived, Smeller Bee would tell the others and that would be the end of that. But if he could convince Sam and Dean that he was dependable and strong … maybe he could go with them.

Sliding to a halt, ash rising by his feet, Jet looked at Sam and Sam looked back at the teenager with a weary look. The strange child had led them to a lake, a lake that might have been crystal clear once but was now as black as the ash that had bled into it. Part of Jet, as he stared at it, imagined that if he fell into it his soul would be stained black forever and yet … the kid was just standing there in the lake nearly up to his waist staring at the neighboring shore. True, the neighboring shore wasn't far at all, in fact some might call the lake a pond, but for some reason the water seemed vast and so very deep and dark. Jet had no want to get close to its shores.

Sam, despite the stillness and darkness of the lake slowly stepped forward into the cool water, hand outstretched.

"Come on kid. Let's get out of this forest. We need to get out of here before it gets too late."

The ashy child did not answer; he merely continued to allow his back to be to the hunter staring at the tree on the other side of the water's edge. A large thing it was, frightening and yet still standing despite it's obviously burned exterior.

Frowning, looking reluctant, Sam decided to take a chance and started to wade into the water towards the youth, planning to just pick the kid up and drag him out. After all, the kid might just be traumatized and completely out of it … or possessed. Either way, he had dealt with worse. He had Dean for a brother after all.

Reaching forward, Sam seized the youth by the shoulder and then slowly turned the kid around. Sam almost sighed in relief when he was met by a confused pair of eyes instead of black eyes or bleeding black goo eyes or yellow eyes or anything in the horrific eyes department because he was sure the kid was a ghost of something equally unnerving. Instead, the kid was warm to the touch and his chest was heaving slightly from the run. He was alive and that was all that mattered.

Turning the child towards him and leaning down somewhat so that he didn't dwarf the child so much, Sam spoke, trying to get those misty and confused eyes to focus on him, "Hey kid, hey, are you okay? Do you know where you are at?"

At this time Dean finally came up to the water's edge, a thin film of sweat on his brow as he looked across the water at his brother, "Sammy … you go him? Let's get out of here. This place is making my bones itch."

Sam tilted his head slightly in his brother's direction. He wanted to say it was impossible for 'bones to itch' but saw no point in correcting Dean's strange idiom. Instead, he spoke to the small eight or ten year old again, "Come on, let's get you out of here. Maybe we can get some answers out of you."

Reaching forward, picking the limp and compliant though frighteningly still child into his arms, Sam started to wade out of the dark waters, his voice soft as he continued to try and get something out of the kid. It wasn't until he asked about the 'Unmother' did the child suddenly tighten and shift on his arms. Sam almost dropped the child as those dull eyes suddenly snapped up to look at their savior, small hands grabbing at his shirt and jacket. The kid scarcely made a sound as a lone tear fell down his face, the boy's tone frightened and yet a whisper, "Please … Don't let her take me again."

Stalling, about to comfort the small youth, Sam barley heard his brother call out, "Get out of the water" when he heard a splash behind him. Turning his head slowly, the kid now thrashing in his arms as he tried to get away, Sam turned to see what was behind him.

It swayed like it was alive, dripping with black ooze and moss as it extended itself out of the water like it was a dancing cobra. The tree roots looked more like snakes as it swayed to and fro as if trying to discern what had entered its lake. And then, just as Dean told Sam to 'duck' (a gun likely being drawn) the black roots lashed out.

The thing grabbed at Sam's leg and waist and throat, tripping the hunter immediately. Sam quickly grabbed for his neck trying to stop the roots from strangling him though he was sure drowning was just as bad as he was pulled down into the black waters, the kid dropped.

Hands acting fast from years of near death experiences, Sam quickly pulled out the hunting knife that was kept at his side. The first branch to go was the one around his neck and then the one grabbing at his arm, the knife slashing through it. It was then that he struggled to the surface, gasping and sputtering as he tried to push the black water out of his eyes and nose.

And yet, just as Dean tripped into the water to help his brother, the thick roots rushed past the other hunter and towards the youth that was struggling to escape the water. They quickly wrapped around the child's waist and started dragging him backwards into the deep water. The young youth screamed and kicked and cried out immediately, trying to get away as he howled for his father.

Forgetting himself and the roots that were slowly starting to drag him deeper into the water, Sam reached out his arm and cut the black roots that had captured the sooty youth, yelling to his brother, "Dean, get the kid first! He's our clue!"

Dean, stalling knee high in the water, looked at his brother with a 'fuck that' kind of look, but none the less grabbed the kid and aimed his shot gun.

Meanwhile, Shui was frowning down at their tracker. Said tracker was looking at sooty foot prints, confused and frustrated, mumbling softly to himself.

"What do you mean you don't want to go any further?" nearly barked Shui. "I don't care if there is a ghost out there. I will secure my cousin and my honor towards my uncle."

The tracker glared and waved at the ashy world around them, his voice biting despite its whispered tones, "This place is for the dead and the lost and these men we are following … they are already lost. If I continue to follow them we may become lost as well and then the spirit will have us. The boy is gone."

Shui got close to the now standing tracker, his temper obvious when Raijo suddenly interrupted, "Calm yourselves. Let's not start fighting amongst ourselves. Night is almost upon us so we should leave and come back while we still have our wits about us."

Ling, always Shui's voice or reason, nodded and agreed, "Yes, the spirits fall to the earth when the sun departs and as sons of the sun … it is probably best we follow it."

Shui gave his friend a dry look, before he murmured, "You are not a Master yet Ling … so stop talking like one."

Giving a nervous sigh, all the men turned to leave but nearly jumped out of their skin when a booming sound echoed over the expanse … followed by the faint cries of a struggle. Turning to give each other a look, the Fire Nation citizens all raced forward, the tracker reluctantly following after even though he was not certain about the sound's origins … and he honestly had no wish to find out.

Unaware that his weapon of choice had attracted more attention then he intended, Dean realized that having one less arm was a lot more troublesome than having one less leg. Throwing a shocked Jet a look, the teenager having fallen on his aft from the sound of the gun shot alone, Dean barked, "Take the kid! I need to help Sammy!"

Jet, blinking for a moment, quickly struggled to his feet as he slipped in the mud. Then, wading into the water, he grabbed onto the wiggling and screaming younger boy who he reluctantly now noted … looked like a Fire Nation kid. Jet personally wanted to throw the kid back to the roots at the realization, but Dean had told him to rescue the little brat and he needed to impress Dean and so he did as he was told.

Wading deeper into the water, feeling his cast being to get bogged down, Dean reloaded his salted shot gun and shot again, this time hitting a large branch the size of a limb. Instantly, there was a squeal as if the thing was alive and before could even blink, the large root was lifting Sam up into the air and swinging towards Dean as if it were merely batting away a fly. The older Winchester barely had time to gasp as the root and his brother both slammed into him and threw him towards the neighboring shore as if he was a skipping stone.

Dean's world faded away as he came to a stop, an inky blackness filling his head as he slammed against the shore. And there he remained in the blackness even with the shouts and the screams echoing in the back of his head. He could not bid himself fully awake or forward, he wasn't even aware of himself until he felt something shaking him. It was begging, crying out, "Master hunter! Please wake, please wake! I don't want to die. I want to go back to my mother. Please wake up! The mean boy told me to give you this bag! Please, I just want to go home. "

Blinking his eyes, coughing up ash that had somehow gotten into his mouth, Dean stared up at the grey sky for a moment noting that the ash seemed to be always falling … like this forest was where hell billowed out all of its smoke. The ash would never end, he was sure.

"Please get up!"

Blinking his eyes, regaining some of his motor skills, Dean slowly sat up and grabbed at his aching head. He could taste blood in his mouth and yet his sight struggled to take in the scene … to see where all the yelling was coming from.

His vision still shaky, Dean was revealed the horror of the situation. It seemed in the few minutes he had been out, Sam had been dragged deeper into water … thin skeletal hands now trying to help tug and pull the large American boy down with the roots. Jet was in the water as well, machete in hand (probably from the survival bag) trying to help Sam cut at the roots and the small boney fingers, his fear apparent as he jumped from little reaching skeletal hands.

Well, it seemed they now knew where she took her victims. She drowned them and yet there did not seem to be any flesh on those reaching fingers, meaning that she probably had no fresh victims.

Dean struggled to his feet, suddenly noticing that blood was dripping down the side of his head as he cried out, "Sam, hold on! I'm coming!"

"No!" yelled back Sam as he turned his head, his hair soaking wet meaning that he had been pulled under recently again. "Find her body. It has to be nearby! Why else would she bring all the children here! She's probably buried nearby! The boy had been staring at the tree! Check the tree first!"

Struggling to keep his feet, Dean swayed as he tried walking. It made sense that the bitch was buried beneath one of the trees. It was a common practice to leave a shamed grave unmarked in their world with little more than a tree or stone to mark a grave's place so it would make sense that it was the same here. After all, a baby murderer would not be given an honorable burial. Given the culture here … that was probably one of the reasons she was pissed off.

Grabbing the small crying boy before him, he murmured, "Keep the bag and help me dig."

He then grabbed the crying boy by the wrist and limped to where Sam had pointed: a gnarled tree that still seemed to have all its branches, short and stout with not even a single leaf. Its whole form was haunting and Dean had a feeling that the roots were just as gnarled as the branches. And yet he found himself falling to his knees next to a sunken part of ground by the roots. It was a sure sign that someone had been buried and not properly, the ground was not built up.

Grabbing a stray branch, Dean handed it to the wailing kid and barked, "Start digging unless you want to die."

The kid gave the dark haired brother a petrified look before he nodded his head and started to dig. Dean quickly did the same, praying it wasn't deep as he continuously kept looking around the gnarled tree's large trunk to see if Sam was okay. Sam seemed to still be hacking away, Jet struggling to help. They could hold their own for a few more minutes but not for long and with Dean's still crippled leg … he doubted he would have the strength to rip the roots and bones from his brother's form.

He had only started digging when he suddenly hit something that wasn't a root, a fabric wrapping. The Unmother definitely had been buried badly and carelessly it seemed, showing just how much she was disrespected. Dean might have actually felt bad about how shallow her grave was if she wasn't such a bitch.

And it was then, his pace picking up so he could do a proper burning, that a chill suddenly ran down his spine, mist escaping his mouth. Swallowing, glad he still had his shotgun, Dean slowly turned and took in a deep breath. The kid beside him, obviously live bait to lure Sammy to the lake, stalled as well as the wood dropped from his hands. And yet, before the kid could turn his head and have a proper freak-out, Dean grumbled, "Don't look, keep digging … I'll deal with this."

Turning, he lifted his shotgun and pointed, knowing that it was going to be a bitch to reload so he had to just bide his time.

Looking the spirit over, Dean silently noted that she might have been beautiful once, the spirit, her gown white and green and draping. Her hair was long and black and hiding most of her face, but the hunter could easily tell she was not alive with the way her shredded gown flowed with an unnatural wind, her hands and the bottom of his dress black with ash.

"Where are the rest of the kids, bitch," grumbled Dean darkly as he pointed his shot gun, not knowing if he translated 'bitch' correctly or not.

The ghostly apparition seemed to cock her head with a sickening cracking noise and then suddenly flickered out of existence only to pop back into existence right in front of Dean, overshadowing him. Before the elder son knew how to react she was knocking the shotgun out of his hands and wrapping her arms around him with her gaunt, starved looking limbs.

Barking out in surprise, Dean quickly realized he had worse problems then her touching him as he quickly became aware of a cracking noise towards the female spirit's waist. Looking down, Dean quickly noted that the woman's slightly pregnant body (having just noticed her pregnancy bump which probably had to do with her back story) started to open like a sideways jaw. It then became obvious about what had happened to the children ... or at least the skeletons that remained. She was eating the children which, admittedly, was a new trick for a ghost, but then again spirits seemed to have more power on this planet given how people actually believed in them.

"Holy fucking hell!" cried out Dean as he tried to struggle against her gaunt and emaciated looking limbs. He was not going to become Dean stew, but for a dead chick she had one hell of a grip. And yet, as fate would have it, suddenly something far worse than him being eaten alive occurred.

"Dean!" cried out Jet from the small lake, his voice horse and panicked. "It pulled Sam under and I can't pull him back up! Dean! DEAN!"

The brunette tried to turn his head, tried to see what was happening in the lake's waters, but in his moment of distraction that yawing jaw was thrust forward and bit down onto his upper hip, piercing flesh and making the old hunter cry out in pain. Dean quickly found himself struggling, panicking slightly as he felt warm blood ooze through his jeans. He needed to get away from her before she started to chew! Not knowing what else to do with his weapon gone, Dean did the only thing he could think of … he head butted her.

And surprisingly … she let go, as if surprised.

Staggering away from the witch, pain rippled through the hunter's bound leg and bleeding side, Dean jumped in the direction of his shotgun. As luck would have it, he landed right on top of it. The butt of the gun jabbing at the long and jagged bite would in his side. And yet, not even waiting to aim, he pulled it up and shot right in the open jaw of the spirit's belly. The female spirit's scream could have broken ear drums but Dean merely found himself staggering to his feet, blood dripping down his leg. His mind was fighting with itself, pushing and pulling at his inner values.

A part of Dean knew that if he went into the water, he would be easy prey; she would drag both of the Winchester brother's down into a cold death. And if he left the digger-boy alone, on shore, the spirit would grab him as well before he could finish digging her up. Cursing himself, knowing that if he burned her right now he might just save all of them if not at least three of them. Pressing back dark thoughts, Dean quickly staggered over to the digging boy and told himself not to look back at Sammy.

Tripping over tree roots, trying to ignore Jet's desperate screams for help, Dean grabbed the survival bag as he hobbled over towards the sniveling little digger. Dean knew why the boy was crying before he even got to the hole. It was indeed a shallow grave, the boy already had half of her form unearthed, bones revealed to the sky like white roots.

Turning his head to see if the witch was still distracted, Dean barked, "Hurry, dig faster! We need to get her uncovered! Now!"

The youth sobbed a for a moment more before he nodded and tried to dig faster. Dean merely started using his bare hands to unearth the wench. Soon there was a femur and a ratty green dressed revealed to the sky, Dean was only given a moment of silence as a sign to turn around and with years of practiced grace he shot the spirit with salt rock again, his fingers rushing to fill the cut barrel again.

The digger stalled to stare at the gun in horror as the gunshot echoed over the expanse.

"Don't stop, uncover her legs. We need her fully exposed and then cover her in salt and squeeze this liquid on her to make sure she burns," barked Dean as he popped off the lid and threw the lighter fluid at the floundering boy.

Turning his attention back to the spirit, Dean faintly noted that the unmother's form was fading in and out of existence in front of him as her stomach remained open and hungry. Dean's hip stung just from looking at her open belly, part of him praying that she wasn't some half-beast like a werewolf or something because the idea of eating people's faces for the short remainder of his life did not sound like fun.

… And he couldn't leave Sammy behind.

Trying to ignore the thought of his brother drowning, Dean shot her again and again ignoring the feel of blood dripping down into his crumbling cast. It was only when he heard the digger boy's voice and the smell of lighter fluid did the faint hope of saving his brother enter his mind.

Shooting at the bitch again, Dean turned to the boy and hobbled over to the grave. He glared down at her bones and the roots that there intertwined with her bones. She might have been a good person once, before being raped or whatever the hell happened to her before she died, but she was a monster now: the Unmother.

"Burn in hell bitch," said Dean as pulled out a match from his coat, running the match head with practiced ease over the back of the match pack. And yet as he flicked it forward, knowing it would take but a moment to banish her and thus make her curse and her actions little more than legends, the spirit dove at him and ruined the trajectory of the match. The match merely fell into the tree's roots, fading into nothingness and smoke.

"They all deserved to burn! Except my baby … my babies. They will drown, they will drown! The water will clean their fire-bending blood! Your fire-bender blood!" she screeched as the spirit pressed Dean against the roots she had knocked him down against. Dean could merely choked and sputtered as she pressed against his throat, crushing his windpipe as the injured brother stared at the spirit's opening belly-jaw once more.

It was obvious to him now. He was going to die.

Cursing how lax he had become since entering this world, Dean wished he had dropped the match in her grave when she knocked him back. That flame, that fire… that spark of life would have saved him in a blast of hot rage. Hot, flesh burning rage! He did not want to die her by a mere ghost's hands! He had fought demons and angels and gods and any slimy thing that dared try to take what was not theirs! He refused to die here!

It was then, rage bubbling in his stomach, that he felt it. It was pressing like a hot sun up into his rib cage and down his spine and even up his throat and down his arms. He didn't know what overcame him, why he thought merely reaching towards the witch's grave would save him, but in his mind he told himself … he only needed a spark.

He didn't know what happened after that, it was like an explosion, a joy, his soul crawling up his limbs, but suddenly the shallow grave exploded in a dance of flame. The Unmother was thrown back, her hands falling onto her pregnant bump as she realized what had happened … her form getting the first tell-tale signs of becoming ash. Death now truly owned her as her bones started to burn.

"Filthy fire-blood…" she whispered, looking down at the hunter she had nearly strangled to death.

"I don't know what you are talking about lady, but just die already," choked Dean as he tried to sit up, ignoring the blood pooling at his side and into his clothing. "I got to rescue my baby brother."

And yet, as the Unmother threw her head back with a scream and finally fell into a flash of flames and ash, Dean found he couldn't rise past his knees. The fire, the flame that seemed to have ignited in him moments ago was fading away and took the last of his energy with it. His head wound, his leg with barely even a crumbling cast and the wound gorging his side had taken all the rest of his energy and Dean didn't know if he had any more strength to give.

The ball of warmth was now crawling deep inside him once again and the cold was creeping in and his vision was growing dark. He felt his balance going; he couldn't even stay on his knees anymore. Dean knew he was about to pass out even though he wanted to press off passing out, knowing that he had to save Sammy and stop the bleeding and look for the stolen children, and yet he knew he would be lucky not to fall into the flames.

And yet, just as he felt himself fall forward, he felt a sturdy hand suddenly grab onto his shoulder and pull him back from the flame, his head falling against someone's shoulder as they spoke slowly to him. They had such warm skin or maybe that was him, burning up.

Either way, Dean quickly prayed it was Sammy that had caught him as he gave into unconsciousness … but he had a feeling that in such a crucial moment … Sam wouldn't be speaking Chinese.

XXX

Paw07: Been a while but here is a nice long chapter for your enjoyment. There is also an OC characters list. This will be helpful for the next chapter.

Original Character List:

Captain Ryuu: He is Jet's father. He is a fire-bender and it struggling to get his son to respect and love him and to learn fire-bending. He was in the Fire Nation when Jet ran away into the Ash Forest.

Cha Fo: He is the unit commander for Ling and Shui. He is a friend to Raiji since they like to have tea together.

Chou: She is Jet's Earth Kingdom mother. She married Ryuu and hid Jet's origins from him in order to protect her son from the people in the area. She died of disease.

General Raijo: He is a fire-bender who is also known as the retired Fire-Cracker General. He was a father figure to Ryuu and thinks of the man as a son since he had no children of his own. He carries prayer beads like Fire Sages do and is knowledgeable about the spirit realm. He has whitening hair and a scar by his eye brow.

Ling: He is a half-breed fire-bender. It has not been discussed if he was conceived by love or cruelty. He is a somewhat silent figure that allows Shui to do most of the talking for them and is Shui's right hand man and best friend. He offers moments of clarity when Shui's temper lets itself be known.

Master Jinjaa: He is a Fire Master that was asked to teach Jet fire-bending. When Jet said he hated fire-bending the Master felt disrespected and felt Jet needed to be taught a lesson. This ultimately led to Jet running away.

Shui: He is Jet's first cousin. He cannot bend but joined a unit that converts half-breed fire-benders into Fire Nation loyalists. He took Jet in by request of his Uncle Ryuu. He taught Jet how to use his hook swords and was gently trying to convince Jet that it was not a bad thing to be a fire-bender and that Ryuu did care for Jet. Shui considers it a personal obligation to return Jet to his father.

The tracker: He has yet to be named but is presumed to be of heavy Earth Kingdom origins since he covers most of his skin and even half of his face. He whispers most of the time to hide his accent and tone of voice.