AN: Only a few more chapters left...unless another idea hits me and changes all that! Hope you enjoy this one, it's a doozie! R&R...It makes me happy when you do!


Chapter 7

When the Winchesters returned to Sheppard's room a half-hour later, Dean was mildly surprised to see Rodney sitting on the edge of Sheppard's bed. The scientist was still tapping away on his notepad, but every once in a while he would look up and watch his friend's sleeping face, checking on his condition.

The bloody laundry had since been removed, and the only reminder of what had happened was the stain on the carpet. The smell of whiskey was gone as well, as someone had opened the window to let the fresh air inside, and Dean noticed that they had also cleaned up the mess they'd created when they'd dumped out all the black duffel bags.

"Uh," Sam said as Teyla emerged from the bathroom, her eyes slightly red and puffy, "I got in touch with Shannon again, a few minutes ago. She still hasn't heard or seen anything useful about where the Wraith might be hiding, but she said she'd keep her eye out."

"That is good," Teyla replied, and moved to the side of Sheppard's bed to check on his bandages, as well as to wipe the slight sheen of sweat from his forehead. When she was satisfied, she sighed and pulled a chair over beside him, nodding at Rodney to let her keep watch for a while.

"Has he woken up, yet?" Sam asked her, and she shook her head.

"I think it is perhaps better this way," she muttered, and Sam had to agree. Something told him that as soon as Sheppard was well enough, he'd take a swing at Dean for the pain he'd put him through, no matter how necessary it had been at the time.

"I think Sam and I should go to the Morgue," Dean said then, returning everyone's minds to the orders Sheppard had given before his collapse. "When Doctor McKay finishes with that thing, you can call us on this," he handed Teyla Sam's cell phone. "We'll find the device and McKay can walk us through shutting it off, or whatever."

Teyla eyed them fearfully. "How do you plan to defend yourself against the Wraith? He will be much stronger than the others, having fed so recently."

Dean smiled widely, and even gave a quick wink. "Don't worry. We can take care of ourselves. Just have Rodney call us when he's ready."

Teyla stepped closer to him then, and placed her hand on his cheek. Her dark eyes full of concern, she murmured, "Please, be careful."

"We will," he replied softly, casting a meaningful glance at Sheppard's sleeping body. "He's a stubborn sonofabitch, huh?"

"Yes," Teyla said with a knowing look. He knew by that look, she figured Dean to be of a similar ilk, and he couldn't disagree. "An irreplaceable one."

Teyla moved away from him, and nervously turned the cell phone over and over in her hands as he and Sam made their way toward the door. While Sam continued on into the hall, Dean stopped in the doorway, and managed a jaunty wave.

"Be back soon," he said, and then he was gone.


Sam hopped into the passenger seat of the Impala, as Dean started the engine. He noticed the firm set of his brother's jaw, and it made him a little nervous. He knew that when Dean got angry, things could go wrong very quickly.

"Dean," Sam started quietly, "what are we doing?"

Dean stared at him in confusion. "Helping."

"Helping?" Sam repeated, just as confused by Dean's answer. "How is chasing a super-strong creature through the desert, with only a couple of shotguns, 'helping'?"

Dean was silent as he pulled out of the parking lot, squealing the tires on the pavement. Once he had merged into traffic, he turned to glance at Sam.

"Look, I don't know how close you were paying attention back there, but Sheppard's laying in a motel bed with more than 20 stitches in his chest. And if we hadn't been there, he'd probably be dead. I'm not gonna just sit around and wait for this Wraith to find us. If you wanna go back…" he stared pointedly at his brother.

Sam sighed and shook his head. "No. All I'm saying is, Sheppard's team is military…"

"Mostly," Dean reminded him, thinking of McKay.

"Whatever. They're military, and they had a hard time dealing with two of these things. We're just two people, against something with the strength of like, five men."

"Three."

Sam frowned. "What?"

"There's three of us. We're going to get Shannon."

Suddenly realizing the implications of Dean's plan, Sam's eyes widened. "Dean, no."

"The hell do you mean, 'no'?" Dean asked, his eyes hard.

"I mean 'no'. You can't seriously be thinking of putting her in harm's way like this!"

"Sam," Dean warned.

"No, Dean! You saw what those things do. If she gets attacked…"

"She's a hunter, too."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, but even hunters get killed eventually."

"We're still here."

"Barely. If it wasn't for Cass…" Sam left the comment unfinished, knowing Dean understood what he meant.

He understood, alright, but he merely shrugged. "That doesn't matter, okay? We're gonna be fine."

Sam ran both hands through his hair. "If that creature kills her…"

Dean's voice was low. "I won't let that happen."

"You won't…" Sam leaned forward, his hands gripping the dashboard. "How, Dean? How are you gonna keep it from happening? Huh? Tell me how."

"Look, I just won't, okay?" Dean shouted finally. "Now either quit arguing, or get the hell out of the car."

Sam sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't agree with Dean's plan, but if he wanted to help Sheppard and his team, he was going to have to go along with it.

For now, anyway.


The warehouse was dark, and full of crates of various sizes. Strange scuffling noises could be heard in the corners of the rooms, and every once in a while, small dark shapes hurried across the doorways.

Shannon had to admit, this was a perfect place for a demon to hide out; dark, cold and creepy.

The knife she held in her hand suddenly felt heavy, as did the guns that were strapped to her back in a homemade holster. She stopped behind a corner, her back to the wall, and wiped her sweat-slick palms off on the legs of her jeans as she went over the steps to demon-hunting in her mind.

Shannon knew this was the demon's hideout – she'd seen the omens in this town, as well as the demon's old vessel, laying cold in the city Morgue. As soon as she'd arrived at the warehouse, she'd poured salt around every doorway and windowsill, even managing to get the huge loading door in the back. Around her neck hung a pendant that would protect her from possession, a gift from the hunter who'd taught her the trade.

As she once again gripped the knife in her right hand, her left hand traveled to her left shoulder, where an angelic symbol had been tattooed a year ago, its black ink permanently guaranteeing even more protection from evil influences. She couldn't help but think of her mentor as she absently rubbed the tattoo, of his sudden death at the hand of a horrible creature in the woods of Oregon. The memory of his clawed, bloody face swam before her, and she shook her head to clear it away again. It would do no good to remember that now. She had a job to do.

Shannon took a deep breath and peered around the corner, finding only the empty hallway beyond. But as she made her way down the corridor, her ears suddenly picked up the sound of voices ahead and to the left. Curious (and to be honest, a little frightened), she followed the noise. She soon came to a door that had once held a window in it; jagged pieces of glass were all that remained of the window now. Peeking through the open space, she saw two dark figures inside the room, standing only feet apart. One she recognized immediately – the shorter man was definitely the demon she'd been tracking – but the other she wasn't sure about. He was mostly hidden in the shadows, and all she could see was a corner of his long, dark jacket, which brushed the tops of his shiny black boots. Shannon strained her ears, trying to make out what they were saying, but all she heard was murmuring, and it frustrated her. She knew from watching them that they were making some kind of agreement; but what the terms were, she couldn't tell.

Quickly tiring of the waiting, and before she could "chicken out", Shannon burst through the door and headed straight for the demon, the knife held out in front of her for defense as well as offense. The demon grabbed her wrists as soon as she reached him, and tossed her away as easily as if she were a rag doll. She was thrown onto a nearby crate, the force of her landing splintering the wooden slats and sending one of the pieces into her side. She gasped as it penetrated her skin, but quickly rolled off the crate and stood up, her hand still tightly gripping her knife. She knew that if she lost that particular weapon, she was a dead woman; she'd have no chance against a creature as strong as the demon was.

"Foolish move, coming here," the demon growled at her then.

Shannon grinned, despite the blood now flowing down her side and soaking through her light blue shirt. She didn't see the other man slowly making his way toward the door, still keeping to the shadows.

"Well, I've never been a very wise girl. But I gotta tell you, only one of us will be leaving here, and it won't be you."

It was the demon's turn to smile. "So cocky. You remind me of another hunter I know." He took a step to the side, beginning to circle her. "You met him recently, in fact."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she spat as she watched him closely, trying to decipher any possible weakness. So far, she was having no luck.

He shook his head in mock-disappointment. "And you say that we demons lie."

Shannon rolled her eyes. This guy was really starting to get on her nerves. Then, she suddenly caught movement to her left, and instinctively turned toward it. The demon took the opportunity to rush forward, his hands closing around her neck and tightening like a vise.

The sudden force of his attack surprised her, and the knife fell from her grasp, clattering to the cement floor as she tried to loosen his hands, to get much-needed air into her lungs. She kicked out her legs, but still his grip tightened, and soon her muscles began to ache and then quiver with fatigue. A moment later, she started to feel dizzy, and she knew she was close to blacking out.

"Too cocky," she heard the demon say again, above the rushing sound in her ears.

Then, the demon's hold on her suddenly loosened, and her vision cleared enough to see a silver blade sticking out of his chest. A golden-orange glow shone out of the wound, and she looked up to see the same glow coming from his mouth and eyes. As the man's body slipped limply to the floor, Shannon was surprised to see another man standing there, his hands gripping the handle of a short sword. His dark eyes were stormy, full of rage. With a quick twist, he pulled the blade free of the corpse. Only then did he allow his eyes to travel over to Shannon, who was massaging her neck slowly, making sure it wasn't swelling.

"You're bleeding," the man noted, gazing at the rather large stain on her shirt.

"I'll be okay," she replied, though she wasn't too sure of that herself. "Close call, though, huh?"

"Too close."

She nodded in agreement as she finally got her first good look at him. He wore a tan trench coat, and underneath that was a black pair of slacks and a white dress shirt. He had dark hair that spiked up a little in the front, and a day's worth of stubble on his face.

"Who are you?" She asked when the silence became somewhat uncomfortable.

A ghost of a smile crossed the man's lips. "My name is Castiel."

"Castiel," Shannon repeated, as if she were trying the name out on her tongue.

Castiel nodded. "Yes."

"Well, Castiel, just what exactly did you do to him?" She gestured down at the dead man at their feet to emphasize.

"I sent him back to Hell. He was about to kill you."

Shannon grinned at him. She liked him, she decided then; he was too serious, but at least he was straightforward – a rare commodity in her line of work.

"I could see that," she replied. "Thanks."

Castiel nodded again, just as a familiar rumbling sounded outside the warehouse. A few moments later, the Winchester brothers stepped through the door, their shotguns gripped tightly in their hands.

When Dean noticed that there were two people standing in the middle of the floor instead of just one, as he'd expected, he stopped in his tracks.

"Cass?" He asked incredulously.

"Hello, Dean," the angel replied calmly.

"What're you doing here?"

"Saving my bacon," Shannon chimed in, wincing as she used her hand to put pressure on her bleeding side.

"The demon's name was Andras. Sower of discord," Castiel offered, as he bent down and wiped his sword on the man's jacket. Then, he looked around. "Where is the creature that was with him?"

"Creature?" Dean asked.

"What you call a 'Wraith'."

Dean stared at him incredulously. "A Wraith was here? Hanging with a demon?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes."

"He must've took off when we started fighting," Shannon replied then. The movement she'd seen earlier – it was probably the Wraith leaving.

"It's very important that you find him, Dean," Castiel said, urgency suddenly filling his voice.

"We will, Cass," Dean assured him. "But right now we should get Shannon cleaned up."

"Of course. I need to speak with Colonel Sheppard. I have information he should be made aware of. Where is he?"

Sam and Dean exchanged uncomfortable looks. Then, Sam spoke up. "He's at the motel. But…"

Before he could explain the situation, Castiel had gone, and Dean shook his head sadly.

"That won't turn out well," he muttered.

Sam nodded in agreement before casting a glance at Shannon, who was unbuttoning her shirt.

"Um," he stammered, cocking his head in confusion.

"Relax," she laughed, and showed him tank-top she wore underneath. "Just checking to see how bad it is."

"Let me," he offered quickly. Shannon raised an eyebrow at him, but then nodded.

"Be my guest. Blood's never been my thing, anyway."

Sam stepped over to her, flicking on his flashlight so he could see more clearly. He watched her lift the side of the tank-top, and then shone his light over her skin, at once catching sight of the large splinter that had sunk into it. Blood still trickled slowly from the wound, working its way to the waist of her jeans. Luckily, her jeans were black, so the stain wouldn't be very noticeable.

"It's not too bad," he said then. "I think I can pull the sliver out."

Shannon drew in a large breath before replying, "Do it."

"'Kay." He looked to his brother. "Dean, hold the light."

Dean walked over and took the flashlight from Sam, steadily focusing the beam onto the wound, as Sam gently grasped the chunk of wood in his fingers.

"Ready?" He asked Shannon, who nodded silently. Inhaling a deep breath of his own, Sam slowly pulled the splinter out of her skin. It gave a moment's resistance, but then slid out easily, leaving a slight trickle of fresh blood behind it. Shannon gasped involuntarily as she felt it being pulled from her, and then again as a sudden stinging took up residence in her side instead. Sam tossed the sliver onto the floor, and then reached forward to take her blouse from her. As she handed it to him, he noticed that her hand shook a little, but he guessed that it was more from the pain of removing the shard of wood rather than blood loss, which hadn't been significant at all.

Sam was pressing the blouse to the wound, when her hand suddenly covered his.

"I can do it," she said, and he nodded and slid his hand carefully out from under hers.

"You good to take a ride out to the desert?" Dean asked then, flicking off the flashlight.

She looked at him, or rather, the half of him illuminated by the dim sunlight filtering through the grimy windows above them. A puzzled look settled on her face.

"Sure. Why?" When he didn't answer right away, she sighed. "You're going after the Wraith."

She followed the brothers out of the warehouse, and into the bright afternoon, shading her eyes with her hand. After being inside the dark building for so long, the sun seemed a thousand times brighter to her.

"Yeah," Dean finally replied. "There's some message thingy…"

"A beacon," Sam offered helpfully, gaining a sharp look from his brother.

"A message beacon hidden somewhere out there, and we've gotta make sure he doesn't turn it on."

"What if he does?"

Dean stopped directly in front of the Impala and looked into her brown eyes.

"Then a whole fleet of ships, full of those God-awful creatures, comes to Earth."

As the full realization of what that meant reached Shannon's mind, she went a little pale. Then, she dropped her hand from her eyes and stared back at him.

"I guess we'd better get going, then."


TBC...