Chapter 9- The Promise- Dude, this chick is so not Tinkerbelle.
Disclaimer- Don't own 'em, just love 'em. Wished to 'ell I worked for Kripke
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The demon swept back into the chamber holding a curved blade that looked like an ice-cream scoop, its edge lethaly sharp; a lumpy looking toady holding onto a small box trailed her.
As she approached the tilted torture tables she was speaking over her shoulder to the minion about postal regulations, apparently they had infiltrated that system years ago.
Then she turned toward them and oozed smugly, "Sorry about the wait, we want to make sure everything goes right for our first package, you know what they say- first impressions mean so much when you're negotiating." She walked slowly to Dean's side in a predatory manner.
Dean glared at her and she clucked a 'tsk, tsk' back at him. Feigning indecision she glanced over to AH-riis wide eyed frightened face and asked "Which one to take?" Adding in a sickly sweet high-pitched southern drawl, "Oh fiddlededee, they are both so lovely, I declare I can't make up my mind!"
The lumpy dark mass holding the box made a grating croaking noise that must be what passes as laughter in minions and the demon joined it with her own maniacal cackle.
Then regaining her composure she snapped at the minion, "Put the damn box down and hold his head steady!"
The box was dropped immediately and rough, surprisingly strong hands clamped onto Dean's head.
For a brief moment Dean's face showed a glimmer of fear then he locked down all emotion and braced himself for the pain.
AH-rii hadn't been breathing the whole time since the crossroads demon entered the room because she suddenly found that she couldn't gasp when the lumpy thing grabbed Dean's head. But a scream was building in her chest with every inch closer the scoop came to Dean's eye.
Dean… DEAN… not your eyes…. Not… your… EYE…."NNNNOOOOOOOOOO!"
And several things happened at once.
A blinding light flashed, both the lumpy thing and the crossroads demon screamed and jumped back as if scald and a translucent green bubble surrounded all of Dean Winchester.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" The demon yelled at AH-rii.
A very confused AH-rii looked at the protective shield surrounding Dean who smiled and winked back at her and stammered. "I… don't… know…. "(Then she caught herself and scowled back at the she demon) "How can you think that I would allow any harm come to this human under my protection."
The demon grabbed fistfuls of fur off the lumpy minion and pulled them out with a sickening rip! "You and your stinking fairy ways! Always meddling and spoiling our plans! Well, we still have him and that shield will only stay up and strong as long as you're awake." She glared at the fairy and growled, "You have to sleep sometime and when you do we'll be back."
The demon spun on the cowering minion and snapped, "Pick up the damn box and follow me!" And stormed out of the room slamming the door behind them.
Dean and AH-rii looked at each other wide eyed and both said, "What happened?"
Dean asked, "You didn't plan this?"
AH-rii answered, "I don't know how it...this shouldn't"…and then breathlessly said, "It was magic! Dean, I can only use magic when I'm in the Everafter, it doesn't work in your world I'd need the control to do this. But I just thought 'Protect' and just like home 'poof' you're surrounded by my Lo.. and she let her voice trail off.
Dean looked at her. Those beautiful eyes full of gratitude and compassion and something a bit more playful. "So, what is this shield made of …exactly?"
AH-rii felt the blush rising in her cheeks. She tried fighting it by reminding herself that warriors of the Fey do NOT blush; but with him only inches away and staring at her like that it wasn't easy. And then he fluttered his lashes at her.
She stopped blushing and smirked, "Bitch!"
Dean laughed and suddenly the depressing chamber was filled with the sound of hope.
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Bobby made the coffee as strong as they could take it and set the mug down in front of Sam at the kitchen table. But the younger man didn't seem to notice. He had been sitting there in silence looking down at the table that only hours ago had been where his brother had had the demon's Thorn dug out of his arm. A small stain of Dean's blood was still visible in the wood. Dean's blood. Thought Sam, and he gently touched his finger to the stain. A moment that did not go unnoticed by the older hunter leaning against the counter. Reverently Sam traced his finger around the burgundy mark.
Dean spilled his blood here; he could be spilling more in Hell right now. And Sam's finger stopped moving. A look of horror and anguish splashed across his face and he stood up suddenly nearly knocking over the mug of coffee.
Bobby pushed away from the counter and stepped up to Sam and for a moment they locked eyes. Sam's great form was trembling and Bobby could see the young man's heart was being torn apart by the rage of frustration that filled it.
"Sam, I've got something for you."
Sam looked at Bobby and glanced back down at the stain on the table. Then he set his lips in a firm line and thrust his chin out and met Bobby's gaze. That face was one Bobby'd seen on Sam ever since he was four, it was resolve, it was strength, it was courage and with that look Sam just told him he was ready.
Bobby left to go to his room and came back carrying what looked like a narrow guitar case across his arms. He set the case on the table opened the lid and slowly lifted out a long shape wrapped in burgundy velvet. It was a sword. Old by design, the handle had gold appointments and a worn leather grip. The silvery blade was not as wide as a broad sword but longer and had a line of dull symbols etched down its length.
Sam looked wide-eyed at it then back at the older hunter holding it out to him.
"Take it," Bobby said and as he reverently held the blade out to him. "Feel its weight, swing it a few times and see what you think." There was a look of expectancy on Bobby's face when he said it.
Sam reached for the Sword and grasped the hilt with both hands; he took a stance and swung it in a gentle arc, it was incredibly balanced. On the second arc he began to feel the grip becoming warm in his hands. He swung again and the air thrummed with a vibration. Again, with more force, as the blade cut through air there was an audible tone that rang softly in the ears like a distant church bell. AGAIN, with all his might he swung, and the symbols along its length came to life with a fiery glow while the purest tone rang out. It felt right.
Sam didn't even know he was smiling as he let out a huge exhale and looked at the sword he held. It didn't look old at all now, the gold on the hilt glistened and the grip felt custom made, the silvery blade and its glowing symbols sparkled in the sunlight and there was this vibrancy like it was alive in his hands.
He looked over to Bobby, " What?"
Bobby stood in awe. He'd just seen Sam, the boy he'd watch grow up, become transformed. It was true; the legend was true.
The promise of the sword, the ultimate weapon against evil, was that it would come alive only in the hands of a man who is good and whose heart is true. And that when the world needed it most such a man would be found to wield it.
And now the young man standing in front of Bobby, with that sword in his hand, was the warrior he was meant to be.
Bobby cleared his throat, but the husky sound when he spoke betrayed the emotion in it. "It suits you……….. Now lets go get your brother!"
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