Dragon Slayer
By: Ridley
Beta: Tidia
A/N: This one is for all those who asked for this chapter to be much quicker! You can thank Tidia for it being better. Enjoy.
RCJ
"No!" Caleb stumbled in the deepening snow, barely caught himself, hands braced on knees as the blast of pain echoed through his head. It was different than the cry for help that had danced through his mind only minutes earlier. The one that hadn't broken his stride, but made him push his body faster. It had come across his senses like a dark storm cloud. He'd felt Dean's panic, the younger hunter's fear blanketing him like a heavy shroud. This experience was much worse than that dread, a psychic alert letting him know Dean was now physically hurting. "Damnit!"
"Son?" Mac was hovering at his side; a tentative hand hanging above Caleb's shoulder as he panted from the gait he'd had to maintain to keep up with his son's mad dash. The fact John, Buzz and Bobby hadn't caught up was testament to Mac's faithful commitment to daily runs through Central Park.
Caleb shook his head, unable to speak in fear of losing what little of his breakfast he hadn't thrown up back in the cave. He'd failed Dean. Again.
"We're too late," Mac surmised quickly. "My ring…" He touched his silver band. "Is Jim…"
Again Caleb shook his head, closing his eyes, trying to find the link that tethered him to the Guardian. He'd thrown off the protective mojo bags he was wearing as soon as he'd realized the threat to Dean. The fact Dean was at the warded cabin had prevented an easy link, but Caleb had pushed himself. He'd found it, that tether to Dean, pulsing faintly like a headlight cutting through fog. Jim's was harder, but it to was there also, even less bright than Dean's had been. "He's unconscious."
"What's going on?" John demanded when he was the first to catch up, his own breath harsh and uneven, though it didn't hamper his impatience. "Caleb."
"Something's happened at the cabin with Jim," Mac supplied.
"My fucking ring told me that much." John gestured to his neck where he wore his hunting band around a chain. The only ring The Knight wore on his finger was his wedding ring. Caleb couldn't help wondering in the light of his mentor's most recent duplicity if what Caleb had always viewed as a sign he was still committed to his dead wife was also some kind of declaration of John's first priority, an allegiance that would always trump The Brotherhood.
Mac sighed. "They're alive but…"
"Dean's hurt." Caleb straightened to his full height to glare at The Knight. He would never forgive John if the worst happened, if his desire for revenge finally trumped protecting his sons. "That thing did something to him."
"We're not more than a half a mile away." Mac stepped between the two men, perhaps sensing Caleb's violent intentions. For an instant Caleb was afraid his own father had known that John was the target. The notion went as quickly as it came, because as close as Knight and Scholar might be, John had taken to keeping secrets from everyone, especially those he usually included in his confidence. "We should go. Now."
Caleb didn't need any other prompting. He'd deal with John later. Instead, he used the pain he could still sense from Dean as fuel. He took off at a run, hurdled the higher drifts of snow, his father matched his stride. Mac was saying something about approaching with caution, assessing the situation before busting in with guns blazing. Caleb was concentrating on connecting with Dean while maintaining the link with Jim. He hoped like hell he could at least offer his best friend some kind of assurance that help was on the way. As long as Caleb could still connect with Dean, still feel Jim's presence, all hope wasn't lost. He held onto that thin thread of comfort right up until the moment he broke into the clearing, found the cabin door standing wide open. Light spilled out onto the ground casting a shadow, a black stain on white. Caleb couldn't help to see it as a premonition, foreshadowing from the vision of Dean's blood soaking the snow.
"Wait." Mac grabbed Caleb's arm, keeping him from entering. "John is right behind us."
Caleb pulled away, taking his frustration out on his father. "The Slayer isn't here."
"We don't know what he might have left behind." Mac, always logical, lifted his gun. He motioned for Caleb to approach the door.
Caleb fought for calm, forced himself to slow down. His father was right. He had to think like a trained hunter not a panicked protector. There would be a time to unleash the frenzied grizzly inside, but now was not the place. Logic and skill were called for, not base instinct.
"I'm picking up Jim, another two presences." Caleb willed his heart rate back to normal, which was hard considering the presence he did not pick up on. Dean was not in the cabin. He focused on taking one steadying breath after another as he edged his way along the rough planks. "The wards are still in place so, I'm not getting much."
"I'm not getting anything." Mac grimaced. The doctor had removed his own protection bags, was using his abilities wide open. "A spider caught in his own web."
Caleb understood the reference. They had gone above and beyond to keep The Slayer from having a psychic advantage, hobbling their own strengths in the process. "Lose, lose situation, Dad."
Mac flashed him a look of appreciation as John broke through the tree line, then Bobby and finally Buzz. Caleb waved them over. John motioned for Bobby and Buzz to circle around back before he made his way to Mac's side. "Junior?"
"Three inside. The Slayer's not here." Caleb reported, meeting John's gaze. He felt his mentor's fear, one that matched his own. It cooled his anger. "Neither is Dean."
"Damn it." John moved by them, further down the wall, edging around the doorframe.
Bobby came around the other side, giving the all clear. A bark disrupted their stealth, followed by the appearance of Scout at the door. She crossed into the snow, tilting her head towards John. She gave another bark and moved back into the house, Lassie trying to alert someone Tommy was once again 'down the well'.
Mac and John moved with the reckless abandon they had cautioned Caleb against. All thoughts of well-lain traps were out the window as both entered the cabin together.
"I'll stay out here." Buzz primed his rifle, gazing out over the darkened woods. "Just in case."
Caleb followed Bobby in, watching as his father and John made it to Sullivan's side. Gage was trying to lift the massive bookshelf off Jim. Scout, an anxious but vigilant overseer, pranced back and forth.
"I only came to a few minutes ago. I found him like this," Sullivan was explaining. "He's conscious now."
"I'm fine," Jim argued, which Caleb took as a good sign. "Where's Dean?" The pastor demanded.
"It's okay. Let us take it from here." Mac guided Sullivan away as Bobby and John put their backs into lifting the oak shelves .
Caleb understood he should go assist as well, if not with Jim, then Gage, who the psychic sensed was about ready to fall over, but Caleb was frozen in place, transfixed by the writing of red that had caught his eye as soon as he'd crossed the threshold into the cabin. 'I want it' was scrawled above the hearth in near six inch letters, they looked smeared on by hand. He'd once called Dean's blood his kryptonite, and though it had been tongue and cheek, like most really good a jokes, there was a thread of truth to it.
Mac promised there was no way Caleb could distinguish Dean's blood from another person's, could in no way smell the difference. Swore there was nothing unique or different about a Winchester's make-up that would be noticeable even to someone with Caleb's supernaturally enhanced neurotransmitters. Mac theorized it was merely olfactory recognition on his son's part, psychological, as scent was the strongest sense linked to memory. The Scholar hypothesized Caleb reacted to it, or the shedding of it, simply out of fear based emotion, the past trauma from his parents deaths perhaps.
The good doctor Ames could postulate all he wanted, Caleb knew the truth. He might not have the scientific explanation, but for whatever reason he could identify Dean's blood, Sam's too, whether it be in a small amount like the time Dean had cut himself on a broken cookie jar, or the wash of crimson painted over the hearth before Caleb now.
"Dad."
The desperation in Caleb's voice was enough to momentarily draw Mac's attention away from Jim, who now that he was free was trying to stand on his own. Mac was trying to thwart the stubborn pastor. "Caleb, I can't…"
"Shit," Bobby's voice overlapped The Scholar's. Mac had gone quiet once he saw what had upset his son. "Is that blood?"
"Dean's blood." Caleb moved closer to the letters, aware on some level that the others had moved behind him, even Jim.
"How do you know its Dean's, my boy?" Jim's voice sounded weak, haunted.
"I know." Caleb pressed his palm next to the message, not needing to make direct contact to pick up the images. The Slayer had used Dean's knife. Caleb had given the blade to Dean, a consolation gift of sorts after Caleb had received his hunter's ring from John. Ten year old Dean had complained he'd been the one injured, mauled by the Black Dog. In a roundabout way Dean had prompted The Knight to finally concede that Caleb was ready to be a full-fledged hunter. Caleb couldn't really refute the point. He had hoped the knife would appease the kid, but had also meant it as a rite of passage as well. Dean had protected his own at great cost to himself. The hunting knife had been given to Caleb by John after his first hard kill when he was only fifteen, so it had seemed fitting to pass it along to his mentor's son. It would also be fitting that Caleb would use it to take The Slayer's head.
"Son?" Mac's fingers lighted on Caleb's shoulder this time, gripped hard.
"He's alive." Caleb brought his hand down rubbed at his eyes, as if he could erase what he'd seen.
"I want it." Bobby read the phrase out loud, bringing Caleb from his contemplation. "What the hell does that mean?"
"The Slayer took Dean for a trade of some sort?" Jim weaved; Mac and John both took an elbow. They led The Guardian to a seat, Scout perching on his feet.
"It looks that way," Mac answered, glancing from The Guardian to John.
"The bastard was in Jackson's body," Sullivan spoke, rubbing his throat. "I let him in before I knew…"
"We think it's what he planned from the beginning," Bobby said. "We found his old meat suit at the cave."
"Was he wearing the gold necklace Dean mentioned?" Mac asked.
Sullivan looked at Jim. "I don't know, I was incapacitated too damn quickly."
"He was wearing it," Jim confirmed. "A gold locket, the chain braided with some sort of hair."
"Then that's the key." Caleb knew if they could get the charm, then The Slayer would be vulnerable. He could kill it.
"Why this great deception?" Jim rubbed his head, his gray hair standing up in the manner that if Dean had been here, and Jim hadn't been obviously shaken, he and Caleb would have teased the older man about. "Why the attack at the church? Why kill my men? It makes no sense."
"Maybe John can explain." Caleb kept his eyes on his mentor, hating the thick lace of pain that ran through The Guardian's voice. He registered the emotions that flooded through The Knight's dark eyes. Worry. Regret. Anger trumped the others. That was just as well, because Caleb's temper was once again notching up as well. "Tell us what you've done-what you have that's worth Dean's life."
"What's he talking about, Johnathan?" Mac continued to stare at John now.
"The Slayer said I wasn't the one he'd been sent for." The Guardian's gaze stayed on the bloody message. "I don't remember anything after that."
"His target is John." Caleb didn't hold back. There had been a time when he would have tried to keep his mentor's confidence, talked with him first. But in the last year, maybe since Sam left, the ties of loyalty to John had begun to unravel. He still loved the man, valued his opinion more than he wanted to, but he couldn't keep forgiving the lapses, the hurt he inflicted without second thought. Still he held back on his belief that John had known all along that he was the intended target. "Or from the message scrawled in Dean's blood, something John has."
"We found evidence in one of the caves that The Slayer has been tracking me for weeks. There were pictures of you and Jim," John gestured to Mac and then to Caleb. "Of all three of the boys."
"I might as well have handed him Dean on a platter." Jim sighed, shaking his head. "I didn't know. If I'd known…"
"This isn't your fault." Caleb looked to The Guardian, his resolve on sparing John wavering in light of the pastor's self-recrimination. "I was in the thing's head and I had no clue. I even had a vision…"
"I thought that was about Jim," Bobby spoke up.
"I did too," Caleb ran a hand through his hair. They were wasting time, time he should be looking for Dean. "Until I had a vision at the cave. They felt the same."
"Nightmares often precede Caleb's visions," Mac explained like the expert he was on his son's abilities. Sometimes it made Caleb's skin crawl, made him feel like a lab rat, at others, like now, he was glad not to have to explain. "Sort of like a precognitive preview."
"It wasn't…you didn't see…" John fumbled the words, the only outward sign he was as shaken as Caleb by what had happened to his son.
"I didn't see his death if that's what you're asking." It was another little hope Caleb was holding onto.
"Was there anything we could use?" John asked, as ever calculating and strategic as Mac was logical.
Caleb was certain his mentor was glad to shift the focus from himself, any indication of his wrongdoing, but he also could sense John's genuine distress.. He sighed. "I saw trees, Dean tied to one. He was bleeding from a wound in his side."
"Why is The Slayer after you?" Bobby squared off with John, not so easily misdirected from a scent. "You forgot to answer the kid's early question about what you have that it wants? Would it maybe be that weapon you've been looking for over the last year?"
Caleb had never been so grateful for Bobby Singer's candor, his ability to call a man on his bullshit without a bit of qualms about the fallout. Of course, as far as Caleb knew Bobby Singer's only heroes were John Wayne and Clint Eastwood. Not a big chance the mechanic was ever going to rub up against either of those men the wrong way.
"Does this have to do with all the side work you've taken on?" Jim asked.
John ran a hand down his beard, let out a heavy exhale. "Maybe."
The Guardian pushed himself up from the chair, turned towards Sullivan who was still leaning against the wall, but looking a bit more with it. He seemed coherent enough to sense what The Guardian was asking without words.
"I think I'll start checking for tracks before the snow covers them completely." Sullivan grabbed his coat, took a hat.
"Buzz is still outside," Bobby said. "Fill him in."
"Right."Sullivan picked up a rifle. "If we can gauge a direction, it will at least give us a starting point for Reaves to follow."
"Don't go far. Take Scout with you." Jim nodded. "She may be of help and she could use the time out."
The door was barely closed behind the Black Lab's swooshing tail when The Guardian turned on his Knight. "You swore this would not happen, Johnathan! That these jobs were inquiries, leading to information and information only. You said when facts had been gathered you would bring Mackland and I in to decide what to do and when to do it before you made a move."
"Damn it, Jim, you know as well as I do how intelligence gathering goes in hostile territory. I might have stepped on some toes, rattled a few cages. Someone sold me out, but…"
"Demonic cages?" Bobby queried. "You been trading information with the enemy?"
"What the hell are you insinuating?"
"I'm saying it right out," Bobby snarled. "No need to dance around any damn bushes."
"It's none of your fucking business." John took a step towards the mechanic. "You stay out of this."
"Why? Because I'm not an official member of the fucking Triad? Neither is your son, but that didn't stop the kid from getting all tangled up in your mess." Bobby motioned to Jim. "Then there's The Guardian, those men who wore the same silver I do. They are my business."
"Don't talk to me about my son or the fucking Brotherhood!" John roared. "I've kept my distance from him, from Jim and Mac for this very reason. You know that."
"Lone wolfing is never an option in our ranks," Jim's tone held none of Bobby's anger or contempt, but Caleb took note that it was just as sharp, maybe more cutting for the calm. Caleb wanted to speak, but held his own tongue, lest he be vanquished from the room like Sullivan. "You know that."
"I had no fucking idea that Dean was going to even be here, that the thing would think to target those close to me. I didn't know he was going to get taken by that sonofabitch."
"But he did," Mac interjected. "My God, Johnathan, you have completely lost all objectivity, your priorities have become severely skewed and..."
"My priorities have never changed, Mackland. Everything I told you that night you came to me in that shit motel in Dayton, Ohio, have remained steadfast and true. I'm going to kill the bastard that murdered my wife if it's the last thing I do."
"Even if it means Dean dies." Caleb could hold his peace no longer. He remembered the night in Ohio, the one when he went with Mac to invite John Winchester into the folds of The Brotherhood. "Are you really willing to sacrifice him for your revenge? I thought you joined The Brotherhood to protect Dean and Sam. That you became the Knight for that very reason, that you trained me to help in that mission."
Maybe Caleb had filled in some of the blanks with his own ideas, but he had never doubted, not since that night in Dayton that John was a good man, a man who only wanted to save his family. A man Caleb wished he could have been, one he could understand and even emulate.
"I'm doing this for Dean and Sam. I know you don't understand, but you will one day. Trust me when I say killing this demon is the only way to protect them."
"You still haven't told us what it is that the bastard wants." Bobby was like one of his dogs with a discarded ham bone. "Is it the gun? Did you get your hands on it?"
"What gun?" Caleb asked.
"Fuck you, Singer."
"Is that a yes?"
John lunged for Bobby, just as Mac wrapped his arms around The Knight's chest, pulling him back. "That's enough. Stop it."
"Fighting each other will not help Dean!" Jim placed himself between The Knight and the other hunter. He pointed a finger at Bobby. "What gun are you talking about?"
"Samuel Colt's gun," the mechanic replied. "The fucking gun that can kill anything."
"Samuel Colt as in the Samuel Colt." Caleb was confused, and no one seemed interested in catching him up. He might as well have been outside with Buzz and Sullivan.
"You didn't." Jim turned on John. "Tell me you did not go to Daniel with this?"
Caleb's blood went cold. "Daniel Elkins?"
John jerked free from Mac. "Daniel has contacts, contacts I don't have. His trail is the hottest one I had."
"Johnathan." The way Jim said the name it sounded like a prayer. Jim ran both hands through his hair, Caleb imagined it was to keep them from around The Knight's throat. He sure as hell wanted to strangle his mentor for bringing Daniel Elkins into the mix. "You know he isn't well, he is not capable of making sound decisions."
"He's smart enough to double cross me," John shook his head. "He was supposed to meet up with me last week before the church exploded, said he had a line on the gun, sneaky bastard never showed."
"So you don't have the gun?" Jim never took his stormy blue gaze from John's face.
"I don't have the thing, Jim. I swear I don't."
"But someone sure as hell thinks you do." Bobby pointed to the message again. "Obviously."
Mac traced an eyebrow with his finger. "Perhaps Daniel did get his hands on it, and to use Johnathan's phrase, it rattled the wrong cage."
"Enough to make the other side very desperate." Jim finally turned to Caleb. "Can you find Dean?"
"I think when The Slayer is in position he will make sure that I can." Caleb had no doubt that the creature had hurt Dean to get his attention, to taunt him. The bloody script was just a bonus, a show of strength for those who didn't get the telepathic message he sent.
"He'll lay a trap, hoping to get the gun and take out John." Bobby rubbed his beard. "He'll kill Dean, too. Just for the hell of it."
"He'll make sure the exchange is in a spell free area like the one he lured Sullivan's team to. The clearing you told me about." Mac looked to Caleb. "Our wards will be useless, and he will most definitely have the psychic high ground. We'll have no way to get close enough to get his power source, the necklace."
"Not unless we use his psychic abilities against him." Caleb recalled his father's earlier words, the ones about a spider being caught in his own web. Where Mac had willingly sacrificed his abilities by using spell work to hamper The Slayer, and any other psychic in the area, including himself and Caleb, The Slayer had made a place where psychic abilities could not be dampened, perhaps even heightened. "He's totally tapped into his abilities now, knows he can use them against us. But he'll have to be fully open if he wants to go head to head with me."
"No offense, my boy but are you sure you can go head to head with that creature. I've witnessed his abilities. They are impressive to say the least."
"I don't have to beat him, Jim, just get him to engage." Caleb looked at his mentor. "You still have those ghost grenades Dean made?"
"Dean had me dispose of those devices," Mac interjected. "He was afraid of how they might be used."
"I couldn't let him give up such a weapon just because my brain got a little scrambled." Dean had created an ingenious device that worked like a stun grenade, but was based on EMF frequency. The kid had expected it to disrupt the very essence of spirits or poltergeists, which it did. A measure that could safely clear a room of supernatural baddies, buying hunters some time. It also had the unfortunate side effect, as Caleb found out during a job last year, of scrambling psychic waves. Dean blamed himself for Caleb being caught in the blast and they had fought about it once Caleb came to in the hospital, one of the few knockdown, drag-outs between the two over the years. In the end, Caleb couldn't concede, couldn't let his friend's misplaced guilt rob the Brotherhood of a possible upper hand, one that could someday save countless lives, maybe Dean or Sam's lives.
"You switched them?" Mac looked taken aback by the deceit.
"You got rid of salt rock grenades."
"I suppose you gave the real ones to Johnathan." Mac looked a little gutted. Caleb was beginning to feel a little too much like John's fitting successor with The Guardian and Scholar favoring him with twin looks of disappointment. Even Bobby's scowl was fiercer than usual.
"Damn good thing he did. I happen to still have them." John spoke up before Caleb could confess to his sleight of hand. He caught the silent 'that's my boy' that The Knight was thinking. A year ago, hell, maybe even a few days ago, it would have filled Caleb with pride. Today, it turned his stomach and he prayed Dean would forgive him for what he had done, and what he was willing to do. John's hand was warm against the clammy skin of Caleb's neck as he squeezed the psychic's taught muscles. "Junior just saved the day."
"I can't let you do this." Mac stepped forward. "We don't know what kind of damage it could cause."
"What we do know is that we haven't any other way to get close to The Slayer." Caleb had made up his mind. "This may be the only way to put it down, give John and Bobby enough time to secure the necklace, for Buzz to destroy it."
"You realize it will also put you down?" Mac shook his head. "Any wards or spells we create will be useless if we're correct and that thing creates another anti-spell area. That grenade will take out anything psychic in the area."
"The last time I woke up in the hospital with a headache, Dad."
"After three days, Caleb!"
"I'll be fine."
"The last time you were not waging telepathic war with a demon spawned creature." Mac looked from John to Jim, and Caleb felt another twist in his gut when neither of the remaining Triad jumped to back up their Scholar. "Tell him you will not go along with this."
"It may be our only recourse, Mackland." Jim rubbed his eyes. "God help us, but it may be the only way."
Mac looked crestfallen. Caleb was certain his father was running every worst case scenario through his quick mind, checking a mental list of anything he might have missed, an alternative plan he could toss out. After a long moment, his dark defeated gaze locked with Caleb's. "You're sure about this."
Caleb wasn't sure about anything. The resolve he would do whatever it took to save his best friend's life remained unshakeable. "It's Dean."
"I know." Mac gripped Caleb's arm, his face softening. He seemed to accept that answer for what it was, an insurmountable impasse between realist and dreamer, current Scholar and future Knight, father and son. Caleb and Mac both knew there was no logic capable of refuting a sacrifice born of love. "Maybe there is something I can come up with that might lessen the effects, something not related to magic."
"As long as it doesn't stop me from connecting with The Slayer, and Dean."
"Lead-lined helmet, maybe." Bobby slapped Caleb on the back of the head. "Of course this thing's already reinforced steel and full of rocks."
Caleb rubbed the spot, glaring at the mechanic.
"Junior's right. Nothing that will alert The Slayer. We'll only get one shot at this."
"I'm well aware of the tight parameters in which we are working, Johnathan." The look Mac exchanged with John spoke volumes about his understanding of the situation. Caleb wondered how much more strain Scholar and Knight's relationship could sustain.
"Good, then we're on the same page." John nodded, looking too much like the last man standing in a game of 'king of the mountain'. Caleb had a sudden desire to knock him on his ass.
"And I expect you to stay in the same playbook. To return to proper script." Jim turned on his Knight, cutting him down to size in a way Caleb would never be capable. The pastor's gentle lake blue gaze hardened to glaciers under burning sunlight. "You will follow the plan, and then when Dean is safe and Caleb out of harms way, our Triad will discuss how to proceed from this disastrous turn of events."
"You're The Guardian."
"I am." Jim's gaze never cracked. "A fact you would be wise to remember the next time you are rattling cages and putting the entire Brotherhood at risk."
Caleb wished Dean was there. Sam too. Not to witness their father's dressing down, but to add some kind of normalcy. Hell, he didn't want John to be at odds with his Triad. He didn't want this mistrust he could feel building between them, the growing separation he could see sense in his mentor.
It was ridiculous, but he felt incredibly like a little kid struggling through a possible parental divorce. Just like a child, Caleb wanted things back to the way it used to be. Ground had shifted after Sam left, but John's escalating tactics were creating a greater insurmountable rift, a canyon full of unforeseen consequences. He didn't need to be a psychic to know that getting Dean back and destroying The Slayer might just be a cake walk compared to what lay in store for their family.
RCJ
