8. A Simple Salt'n'Burn?
"Sam, you coming or what ?" Dean yelled from the opened door, « Casper won't wait for us all day ! »
"Comin'." Sam grumbled. He was still amazed by Dean's recovering gift. Give him a few hours sleep and he's ready to face the world again. "You sure you alright? Cause if you don't feel like it…"
Dean sighed dramatically. "For the last time, Sammy, I'm fine! I had my ass kicked before, you know!"
"Not like this."
The older brother rolled his eyes, but his smart ass comeback was cut short by their dad's voice, "Boys! Anytime now!"
Dean put his jacket on, swaying a little as vertigo gripped him. He was pretty sure he didn't have a concussion, but it didn't keep his head from throbbing. It took him a second to get a grip, but he sure didn't miss Sam's glare. Dean stared daggers at him brother and, still looking him dead in the eyes, he yelled "Coming!" at his father. "I'm fine." He told Sam before grabbing his duffle and exiting the room. Sam just shook his head and followed, like he always did.
John grumbled as his sons finally came out, "Thought I was gonna have to get you two out myself."
"Sammy couldn't find his teddy bear." Dean said with his usual cocky grin, which got him a punch on the shoulder from Sam, who didn't miss his brother wincing. But he didn't apologize, though. It was Dean's own fault after all, nobody forced him to come with. Of course nobody had told him about the phone call, so he didn't know what was at stake. For now, he was just mad at his brother for being Daddy's good little soldier. Again.
"So you finally found this guy's name?" Sam asked his father as he climbed behind the wheel. Dean has protested about Sam driving his beloved car, but John had been untreatable about it. A small victory for Sam, who still insisted Dean wasn't up for the hunt.
"Yep, James Sampson. Died at the age of forty five in a car accident. Been haunting and killing for a few months, but you already knew that."
"Do we know why?"
John shrugged. "We don't, but that's not really the point, right? All we have to do is salt'n'burn the sucker."
"Boring." Dean groaned.
"Not like you could take anything harder." Sam muttered. Dean let his middle finger tell his brother what he thought about it. From the back seat, John sighed dramatically.
"If you two are done, maybe we could get back to business." He grumbled.
"Yes, sir." Both sons answered in unison.
"And Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"If I see you raise that finger one more time I'll cut it off."
Dean gulped and Sam had to bite down his tongue to stop his chuckle from escaping his lips.
"Okay, he's here." John said rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm them up. The cemetery was filled with fog, which made finding the grave a lot harder. Sam had been ranting about the cold and Dean had been… well, he'd been Dean. Making smart ass comments to hide the pain he was actually in. But his father and brother could see right through it.
"Sam, you start digging with me." John ordered as he handed his youngest a shovel. Sam nodded, giving his father a knowing and somewhat grateful look. He turned just in time to see Dean reach for another shovel. "Dean, what do you think you're doing?" John almost barked.
Dean looked up at his father, puzzled. "Well, that may sound insane, but I thought it'd be faster than if I dug with my nails."
"You're not digging, you're just staying there and watch out in case someone comes."
"But…"
"No buts."
Dean grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "Fuck that" but John and Sam both pretended they didn't notice. At least Sam did because John really hadn't heard.
Dean rubbed at his scars thoughtfully, secretly grateful they'd waited for the night to go out because the last thing he'd wanted was to face people disgusted or pitying looks. He knew he would have to, someday, but the later the better.
He was startled out of his thoughts when John cursed loudly. "What, what's wrong?" Dean asked.
"I forgot the lighter fluids." John groaned. Dean raised an eyebrow.
"No problem, I'll go get it." He said, already turning to leave.
"What? No!" John yelled. Sam looked at him in confusion and Dean rolled his eyes.
"Dad, the cars a few feet away. I'll be back in a second."
John looked hesitantly around. The car was indeed near from them, but Dean had to turn the corner made by the trees to get there, and the fog made it impossible for his dad to see him if he did. But John also knew every second counted and he couldn't exactly tell Sam to drop his shovel, climb out of the grave and go when Dean was up on the ground.
"Okay." He finally said, "But you better hurry." Dean nodded and took off swiftly. Sam looked at his father quizzically, but John just shrugged it off and kept digging.
They were both startled by Dean yelling "Can't find it!" and Sam swore, not for the first time, that someday he was gonna kill his brother.
"Well look harder Dean, it's in the damn trunk!" John yelled back. "So much for being discreet." The eldest grumbled.
"Almost jumped out of my skin." Sam agreed. But deep down they both knew why Dean had yelled like that. He'd been gone for quite a while and just wanted to keep them from worrying.
When they finally got to the coffin, John unceremoniously broke the lid and Sam salted James Sampson's remains. When they heard footsteps coming their way, John held out his hand, waiting for Dean to give him the lighter fluids. But when nothing came, he looked up and cursed under his breath at what he was seeing.
There, above him, stood seven men circling his eldest. One of them had an arm across his chest and a knife to his throat. And the sucker was grinning triumphantly, enjoying the power he was holding now.
"John Winchester." He said, "At last we meet again."
Dean was holding perfectly still in the man's grip. "I'm sorry." He mouthed to his father. But John slightly shook his head, letting Dean know it wasn't his fault.
"Okay, now here's the fire fluids." The man said, throwing the can to John. "You two get out of this grave and finish whatever it is you're doing. Then we go for a ride. But don't you guys dare to do anything… hinky." He smiled cruelly, pressing the blade a little deeper, a single drop of blood sliding down Dean's throat.
Beaten, John and Sam had no choice but do what they were told. As soon as they were out of the grave, the rest of the team searched them and took their weapon, adding them to Dean's.
When it was clear, the leader nodded to them and two of the men knocked Sam and John unconscious. Dean gasped as their bodies hit the ground but didn't have time to react before he suffered the same fate.
TBC…
Oops… I did it again!
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nerwende
