CHAPTER 8 - Backed into a corner
Dean sucked in a breath as he felt that handcuff tighten around his wrist, it was a moment he knew he would never forget. He swallowed hard as he let his head hang low, his eyes falling to the floor as every single mistake he'd made along the way came back to haunt him. It was like the last nail in the coffin, everything that could have gone wrong with this hunt did and he was finally ready to admit to himself that he'd been defeated, that he couldn't handle the job on his own. That is, until he noticed the handle of his father's handgun sticking out of the officer's belt, right next to what was obviously his service weapon. His heart jumped to his throat in the fraction of a second it took for him to realize that the man about to cuff his hands together behind his back, wasn't an officer at all but the shifter he'd been hunting. The adrenaline mixed with the fear as it started pumping through his veins. This wasn't over yet and there was no way in hell that he was going down without a fight.
Before the second handcuff could clamp down around his wrist, Dean spun around and threw a punch that caught the other man off guard. The shifter took a step back and stumbled down the few steps as Dean dropped to the ground to grab his weapon, the sudden twisting motion reminding him of the wound in his side. He thought he had enough time to load his gun and take aim but the Shapeshifter was back on its feet in the blink of an eye and to his surprise, much quicker to the draw than he was.
Sam swore under his breath as the sound of gunshots tore through the silent night. From across the road he couldn't see much, but from what he did see and hear, he knew something wasn't right. Quickly making his way over, gun drawn, he watched as a uniformed officer darted between the two cabins into the nearby woods and his brother picked himself up off the porch floor to follow. Dean was clutching his side, his heavy breathing as hard to miss as the open handcuff that was dangling from his wrist. "Dude what the Hell?" He asked as he joined the other man, using his flashlight to get a better look at the condition his brother had been left in.
"Shifter." Dean replied, playing down the level of pain as he sucked in a breath. The glass from a broken window crunched under his feet as he climbed down the few steps, ignoring the general look of concern on Sam's face. "Told you the son of a bitch was smart." He continued as he grabbed his flashlight from the ground where it lay and tucked it under his arm. "You go find Dad, I've got this." He said without missing a beat as he pulled the spent clip from his gun and loading a full one. The silver bullets momentarily glistening in the moonlight.
"Dean." Sam growled, his eyes instantly drawn to the dark spot on his older brother's shoulder as the other man brushed by him to follow the shifter into the nearby woods. "DEAN!" He repeated.
"Sammy I've got this." Dean was quick to reply, catching his younger brother's eyes for only a moment before he headed off into the darkness.
Watching as his brother simply vanished into the woods, Sam stood there for a moment struggling with the order he'd just been given. Though he knew Dean was hell bent on cleaning his own mess, that he wanted to handle this one on his own, he also knew that his older brother could really use the backup. When his flashlight fell on the drops of blood that were trailing down from the front steps he swore under his breath, the sight making the decision that much harder for him to make. He knew what was on the line for Dean, what it meant for him to finished what he'd started but letting him do so was one of the hardest things Sam had ever done. "Damn it." He growled to himself, reluctantly turning away to head towards the lone lit cabin they'd assumed their father was being kept in.
Keeping an eye out for Bobby and the creature just in case it looped around, Sam hurried towards the cabin and crept up the front steps, cringing as the floor boards creaked under his feet. He paused by the window with his gun drawn and ready as he peered in, his eyes focusing on his father tied to a chair in the middle of the room. With his head hung low and blood covering his clothes, Sam wasn't even sure if the other man was still alive. "Dad." He breathed, taking a quick glance around before making his way towards the door and slipping inside. When his father looked up and caught his eyes, Sam couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. He was in rough shape but at least he was still alive. "Dad." He started, tucking his gun away as he hurried to untie the piece of cloth the shifter had used as a gag. "Are you alright?"
Through the pain and fear of it all, John couldn't help but let the smile creep up to the corner of his lips as he eyed his son carefully. He hadn't seen Sam in two years and while he'd watched from a distance, it didn't compare to the moment where they were once again face to face. "I'll live." He quietly replied. "Where's your brother?"
There was a moment of silence and Sam couldn't help but pause as he flipped his silver blade open to cut through the ropes. "He's hunting the shifter, damn thing was a Marshall. Dad don't take this the wrong way but if that thing is as smart as..."
"Just do it." John cut in, impressed that Sam was being so vigilant when he'd been away from the job for so long.
Sam offered a nod and swallowed hard as he slid the silver blade across his father's arm, ignoring the string of swears that soon followed. The cut didn't burn, it bled and that was all the proof he needed to cut through the ropes that were holding him in place.
Wincing as the tension in the ropes let go and he was finally able to move, John instantly hunched forward as a concerned Sam knelt down in front of him. "Sammy I'm sorry." He blurted, sucking in a shallow breath as the younger man pushed him back into the chair. "You were right about the shifter, about..."
"You don't owe me an apology" Sam cut in as he wrapped an arm around his father's waist and hoisted him up out of the chair.
"Yeah, actually I do." John quietly replied, the pain of that first step reminding him of the gunshot wound to his thigh. "I've been thinking, maybe I was a little too hard on you boys."
"Dad you don't owe me an apology." Sam growled, unable to keep the emotion that was still so raw out of his voice as he thought of his brother. "Save it for Dean." He continued, shifting his weight as he felt the other man struggle to keep up. Though he was happy to see his father again after two years, he couldn't shake the harsh words that had cut him to the core that night he decided he was done with the job. He'd chosen his dreams over the family business and had the door slammed shut behind him as a result, it was a wound that had yet to heal and one that opened all over again when he'd heard the desperation in his older brother's voice. He was angry at the man for the way he treated Dean, for how he'd left him behind to finish off the hunt but now wasn't the time for a confrontation. "C'mon, let's get you out of here." He said, pausing as the sound of footsteps on the porch caught his attention. He instantly reached for his gun as a shadow streaked by the window.
"Just leave me here." John whispered. "Go find your brother."
Ignoring his father's words, Sam took aim as the shadowy figure turned the corner.
"Easy boy it's just me." Bobby started as he walked into the cabin and came face to face with the barrel of Sam's gun. When the young hunter didn't budge, Bobby carefully reached for the blade that was tucked into the side of his belt. "Fair enough." He continued, eyeing the injured John as he flipped his blade open and extended his arm so both men could see. "We were after a shifter." He went on, dragging the blade across his flesh to draw blood. "We good?"
Sam gave him a nod as he tucked his gun away. "Yeah."
"Good, I'll bring the truck around." Bobby announced as he turned on his heels and disappeared out the front door.
Dean sworn under his breath as he came to a stop and brought a hand up to his chest, his racing heart resonating in the gunshot wound he was trying to ignore. Though he'd followed the shifter into the woods, he'd lost sight of it in the night and while he tried to catch his breath he couldn't help but feel as if he was being watched. If he was lucky he managed to injure the thing in their shoot-out and it was now just as vulnerable as he was, but the way things were going he doubted he'd hit it at all. He swallowed hard, the cold air filling his lungs just as painful as the pressure he was applying to the open wound. He didn't have time for this, the hunt had already gone on for far too long. All he wanted was for this job to be over and for things to go back to the way they were. He put his back against a tree as the sound of twigs snapping nearby caught his attention, he knew it was hunting him down but in the darkness he could see nothing at all. "Shit." He growled to himself. Unable to find his target, Dean did the only thing he could think of and closed his eyes. His grip on the gun tightened as he held it out at arm's length, the open handcuff around his wrist dangling in the wind as he listened intently to the sound of approaching footsteps. Though it was his father who'd taught him how to hold, handle and fire a gun it was Bobby who'd taught him how to listen for his prey and Pastor Jim who'd taught him the patience needed to get that one perfect shot.
He took a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart. He couldn't count on his sight for this so to take a blind shot based only on sound, he would have to relax and tune into what was going on around him. He loaded the gun, the breeze against his face bringing with it the faint sounds he was looking for. Like any keen hunter he turned towards the noise, waiting for that perfect moment as he listened to the footsteps approach from his left but then suddenly come to a stop. He swallowed hard hoping he hadn't been spotted as he waited for the thing to move again so he could hone in on it and take that blind shot. The seconds slipped by and his heart started racing again as he listened to the overwhelming silence around him. When the distant sound of his father's idling truck came drifting through the trees, the shifter he'd been listening for took off. Dean swore under his breath as his eyes flew open and he gave chase, knowing without a doubt that the shifter would reach the cabin before he did.
Bobby brought the truck around to the front of the cabin and pulled the door open as Sam helped John make his way down the steps. "Easy, easy." Bobby hissed as he grabbed his friend by the waist and gave him the boost he needed to climb into the passenger seat.
John swore under his breath as he straightened out the best he could, his body protesting every move that he made. "Thank you." He said simply as Bobby shut the door.
"I heard gunshots earlier, where's your brother?" Bobby asked as he turned his attention back to the young hunter.
"He took off after the shifter, into the woods." Sam explained, the tears welling up in his eyes as he spoke. "Bobby the shifter's a Marshall now, a damn Marshall!"
"I know Sam, I found the cop dead in his car behind the cabin." He replied as he eyed the lit cabin behind them.
Sam sucked in a breath as he passed a hand over his face to wipe away the tears. His gaze momentarily drifted up to his injured father in the truck before once again focusing on the veteran hunter standing there in front of him. "Dean's been shot again and I don't even know where he..."
"It's alright we'll find him." Bobby was quick to cut in, the desperation in Sam's voice breaking his heart. "I'll go bring your dad out to my car, you stay here and wait for your brother. If he's not back by the time I come get you, we'll go looking for him. Don't worry we'll find him."
Sam offered a nod as he took a deep breath and loaded his gun, doing his best to keep the straight face he'd learned to fake almost as well as his older brother had. "Alright."
"Just keep an eye out for that shifter and be careful, the damn thing's quick." Bobby said as he climbed in behind the wheel and pulled away into the night.
Sam watched as the glow of tail lights disappeared behind the trees, the thoughts of what was going on in those woods heavy on his mind as he made his way back up the steps and into the cabin. For all he knew, Dean could already be dead or near death lying unconscious on the cold forest floor in a puddle of his own blood. With those thoughts circling in his head, he set his gun down on the table next to the open duffle bag and hurried to gather the rest of his father's things. When the sound of shuffling in the nearby woods caught his attention he momentarily froze, his eyes instantly drawn to the open door. He wanted to call out to his brother, wanted to let Dean know where he was in case it was him, but instinct forced him to grab his gun and prepare for the worse instead. There was no other way out of that cabin and with the footsteps fast approaching, Sam couldn't help but feel trapped. His grip on the gun tightened as he quickly weighed his options; extinguish the lantern's light and hide or make a run for the woods and hope for the best. "Shit." He growled to himself, blowing out of the tiny flame, grabbing the duffle bag from the table and running to take cover in one of the tiny bedrooms. Crouching down behind the bed he took aim from across the room, his sights set on the cabin's open door. He could now hear the footsteps coming up the old porch steps and as he loaded the gun, a shadow appeared in the doorway.
"Sammy you in here?" The other man asked, one hand wrapped around his gun while the other was pressed up to his chest. "Dude I'm bleeding out over here!"
Sam didn't offer a reply as he watched the other man take a step inside. He knew the shifter was smart and it had already fooled some of the best hunters he knew, so though it sounded like Dean and it moved like him, Sam wasn't convinced that it was. But at the same time, he wasn't sure enough that it wasn't to just pull the trigger. He studied the other man carefully, looking for that tell that would either give the shifter away or confirm that it really was his brother. Watching as the other man walked up to the table and just out of his line of sight, Sam couldn't help but swallow hard. He no longer had a clear shot and the more he watched, the less he thought this could possibly be his older brother. Dean would have reacted to the bloody chair and the cut ropes on the floor in the middle of the room. Dean would have said something about it instead of walking around it as if it weren't even there.
"Alright kid, you got me." The shifter suddenly announced, its voice echoing in the dark room as it took a glance around. "I ain't your brother, hell he's the last son of a bitch I'd ever want to be. You should see the shit he's got running through his head." It paused for a moment as it grabbed the old kerosene lamp from the table and tossed it towards the bedroom door. "Come out, come out wherever you are. I know you're in here."
Sam ducked behind the bed as the lamp shattered on the floor, sending glass and kerosene in all directions. Sliding across the floor towards the foot of the bed, he tried to stay out of sight as he peered around the corner. He still couldn't see the shifter, but that wouldn't stop him from waiting it out until it once again stepped out into the middle of the main room and right into his line of fire. For it to come after him, it would have to come through that bedroom door and when it did, he would be ready to simply pull the trigger.
"Come on Sam it's only fair." It continued from the other room, its eyes fixed on the darkness of the bedroom nearby as it loaded the gun in its grip. "First all I really wanted was to kill Dean Winchester, but then I realized that that wasn't enough. Killing the monster that hunted down my family wasn't enough because he didn't value his own life. Not like he values yours. Like I said, you should see the shit he's got eating away at him." There was another moment of silence and the shifter couldn't help but smile to itself. "I'm going to give you two options kid, I can make this fast & painless, or I can make your last moments a living hell."
When the unmistakable sound of a zippo lighter flipping open caught his attention, Sam couldn't help but feel his heart jump to his throat. In the darkness, he could see that dim flickering light reflect off the broken glass on the floor of the doorway in front of him. He still couldn't see the shifter but he knew what was coming next.
"Last chance Sam, I've got my gun loaded and ready." It continued, pausing for only a moment as it waited for a reply. "Alright then, have it your way."
Sam swore under his breath as he watched the lighter hit the floor, the tiny flame sparking an inferno the moment it made contact with the Kerosene. Watching as those flames quickly spread and devoured everything within their reach, now he really couldn't help but feel trapped. With the doorway fully engulfed in a matter of only seconds, he scanned the room around him for another escape and that's when his eyes focused on the window. It was already getting hard to breath and the longer he stayed, the worse he knew it was going to get. Tucking his gun away he grabbed the duffle bag from the floor beside him and tossed it through the glass, ducking as shards came raining down. He could feel the heat on his back as he got up off the floor, but he was too focused on getting out of there that he never noticed the shapeshifter take aim through the wall of flames behind him.
