Their Own Devices – chpt 11
by: sifi.
--
The ringing in John's ears as he pushed himself to his feet served to fuel his fire, certain amounts of pain were good for combat, reminds you what's at stake… he thought watching for an opening or a feint from the creature before him. It ran its hand under its bleeding nose and flicked the ichor onto the ground while smiling with teeth that appeared to have been carved from yellowed wood.
These guys are supposed to be lumbering and slow! What the hell! his eyes bulged as it charged him. He stepped to the side feeling the wake of wind rustle his overlong hair, his foot and hand combined to send the very large, and very frightening creature of lore to the ground, its face plowing the earth for its momentum.
John was on it in a heartbeat, the stainless steel of his bowie knife aiming for a spot between its vertebrae. You are gonna suffer you son of a bitch! Hurt MY BOY! Gah! he felt himself grow primal inside.
The blade glanced through the creature's ribs, the serrated edge cutting through bone while the keen straight edge sliced into the spongy lung tissue inside. Thunder boomed from beneath him and something earthen sheared through the air. John felt pressure from behind his eyes as it howled its pain and rage. Beneath the tattered remnants of the shirt it wore John could see the flesh caving, crumbling and the scent of scorched Earth filled his nostrils.
Despite the pain it was obviously in, the ogre that had once called itself Harris rolled out from beneath him, its one good hand gripping his ankle with cutting fingers as it did so, rolling its weight over the man, its elbows striking and grinding deep his soft places.
John groaned through the stars in his eyes, his everything fell temporarily numb as impulse or blood was cut off from something vital for just a moment, You are going to kill this thing John! For Dean! Not if it…NO excuses soldier! You WILL kill this son of a bitch! Sir Yes Sir! he rallied himself rolling to all fours, forcing his numb limbs to work out of long habit if not actual sensory input.
He sprang, colliding shoulder to shoulder with the behemoth and felt something in his upper chest snap. His hand closed on the creature's throat, his fingers and thumb closing around its trachea, sinking into the skin, nails tearing flesh as his other hand brought his blade up between them, its carefully maintained tip sliding through the membranous gristle of the ogre's abdomen, angled upward to pierce its diaphragm, and if its anatomy was the same, the left ventricle of its sadistic heart.
The creature howled again, a sound that for any other living thing would have meant inevitable demise, but as it clutched John to itself, grinding his bones in a bear hug meant to break, he wondered if he'd just managed to make it angry.
Get out of this John! Your boys need you! his inner Drill Instructor barked into his ear. His feet were off the ground and his back felt like it was splintering chalk but gasping for breath his brought his hands up, every bit of energy he could muster behind the heels of his hands as one struck high and the other low in an attempt to literally dislocate the creature's head from its spine. He felt that same rush of moist warmth followed by an icy blast at the back of his eyes, like a bad brain freeze, that his son had experienced the night before as his right ear drum split under the pressure of its fury.
He felt himself take flight as his head spun while his equilibrium was thrown off by the sudden change in pressure inside but still, he turned his head, quickly checking for whatever obstructions he might be hurtling toward while, his right hand was pulling his gun. Soft, voluminous undergrowth caught him gently, his breath held in his lungs as he sighted and fired. Ichor rained out from the retreating creature's back and it stumbled just slightly under the inertia of the consecrated iron round that lodged into the muscles between its ribs.
Freaking brilliant John! Get your ass up! You're gonna lose it! he was on his feet in a flash, tearing through the underbrush, his eyes marking signs of its passage no less than ten yards ahead at every step. His legs pumped, heart thundered and his body dodged obstacles noted subconsciously. His eyes never left the prize, this was one of the reasons John had been such an exceptional soldier, and it was one of the reasons he'd become such an excellent hunter.
Unfortunately though, even an excellent hunter can be caught unawares. Even as he noticed small signs that would have been a dead giveaway under any other circumstances, signs that screamed "Caution!" "Hold It!" "Wait a sec stupid this isn't right!", soldier, hunter and father were at war within him, and as even the most green recruit knows, only a madman fights a war on four fronts.
--
"Sammy… hey Sam… look who's awake…" Pastor Jim gently shook the little boy on his right.
Even after his arrival Sam had refused to be moved from Dean's side except for the occasional bathroom break.
Sam's head popped up and he looked immediately into the wan smile of his big brother who's green eyes were struggling mightily to stay open.
"…runt… you still here?" he croaked and tried to get a grip on the mattress to push himself upright a bit. He heard the clank of the buckles and looked at his wrists, confused.
"Here Dean…" Jim leaned over and around Sam to put the straw from the bedside cup in between the boy's dry cracked lips.
"Hey whoa there… easy tiger!" Jim grinned as he felt the cup grow light with frightening speed.
"I only left to go pee I swear… I kept watch so you'd be safe…" Sam smiled while pushing his big brother's hair out of his eyes.
"…s'with the cuffs?" he mumbled trying to reach over and ruffle Sam's hair.
"You were hilerious… slapping on the tubes and wires and stuff and they didn't like it… I told them to leave you alone but they said if I wanted to stay I just better let them do what they had to so you didn't hurt yourself…" Sam explained.
Dean glanced around Sam to Jim who smiled benignly, "I think he means delirious."
"Yeah that…" Sam nodded sliding off the bed and crouching at the side of it, "You're not delir.. delirious still are you?" he asked, his eight year old eyes piercing deep into Dean's, looking for any signs of… well anything that had scared him so badly while he was muttering about the rats being inside him.
"..non't think so," Dean shook his head, "…dad come?"
Jim nodded, "He did," and gave the boy some more water.
Dean rolled his head around on his shoulders, a loose and cursory glance around the room before he cleared his throat and asked, "He went after it didn't he?" just as Sam's head popped up and the restraint dropped from his wrist.
"He did," Jim nodded.
They watched Sam walk carefully around to Dean's right side, watching every step he took for the quantity of wires, tubes, and machinery that scared him. On the floor was a box that had several canisters in it, one filled with blood, one with what looked like water and the other might have been empty. There was a tube that led from that box to the hole Sam had seen them make in Dean's chest in the trauma room. The sight of that box and the tube that ran from it scared him silly so he gave it as wide a berth as possible in that limited space while he moved to undo the other restraint. There was one tube however that when he'd initially realized what it held and, where it went to for his brother, alternately sent waves of empathetic tingling discomfort, and the occasional fit of laughter through him.
"You know how you tell me I gotta learn to hold my pee?" he grinned.
"Yeeeeaaahhh…" Dean drawled suspiciously.
Sam reached down and held up the tube filled with amber and grinned as Dean grimaced feeling a sudden pressure and horrible stinging need to go hit his bladder, "Yeah well I swear you don't stop going!"
Dean groaned and grimaced shifting uncomfortably for a moment.
"Put that down Sam… it's backwashing into his bladder…" Jim smiled patiently and shook his head as the young boy bent down, putting the tubing back on the floor.
If Sam had had a camera at that instant, as he watched the tube fill back up and dump out into a bag at the foot of the bed, he would've taken a picture of his brothers face and the look of blissful release he saw there.
"Wee Weef?" Sam giggled returning to the 'safe' side of the bed and climbing back into it beside his brother who shoved his shoulder into him gently then winced for the movement.
"So… how bad am I?" he asked meeting Jim's earnest eyes.
"You'll be fine in no time… sorta…" Jim started but Sam jumped right in chirping away a laundry list of wounds and traumas that made Dean feel more than a little green after the recitation.
"…and they took out your pendix," Sam finished ticking off the last item on the list.
"You sure I'm gonna be okay?" Dean swallowed hard looking from his little brother to Pastor Jim who once again smiled benevolently, tussled his hair and this time handed him the water cup directly.
"Thanks… how about Sandy? Is she okay? Did they find her too?" he asked, doing whatever it took to push what had happened to him aside and think about the person who he'd been trying to help and hoping that everything he'd suffered hadn't been in vain.
"She's gonna be okay too… she has a tube in her chest too… man broke ribs are bad!... it was gross Dean… the doctor… he… well maybe it was a she, I don't know… took this knife and prwhait!" he made a stabbing gesture and a duck-ish sound, "stuck it right in there… and blood just started running out… I almost threw up… but I think I kinda went to sleep a little… but that's okay cause Sarah was there and she made sure to tell me what was going on all the time… she's pretty nice for a big kid…anyway I bet they had to do the same thing to Sandy since the nurse said it was going to help you breathe and she was breathing up blood too…" he chattered while watching the colors change on his big brothers' face, mesmerized by the pallor and waxy sheen that came back to his cheeks and forehead, "… you're gonna throw up aren't you?" he asked.
Dean shook his head, his lips pressed tight as he leaned back and closed his eyes.
Jim chuckled and dug out his wallet, "Hey Sam… why don't you run to that cart in the hallway and get us something to drink okay?" he handed the boy a ten.
"Coffee? Cream and sugar right?" Sam asked.
"You got it…"
"Can I get Dean something?" he asked peering closely at his brother, "He might want something after he pukes."
"I'm not gonna puke runt…just get me a soda," Dean groaned.
Sam looked askance at Jim who nodded and reached for a pink plastic tub on the bed table.
"Yes you are…" Sam nodded knowingly and dashed out of the room.
"Yes I am…" Dean leaned over clutching at the tub secure in Jim's gentle embrace, comforted by the warmth and love from two of these very important people in his life. Everything would've been just perfect if only the hunt for the ogre was over and his dad was already back safely.
--
Sound was the first thing that came back to John, an odd clicking sound, various snaps and cracks and noises that were familiar but he just couldn't place. The next thing that slid into his senses was the fragrance of fire. Somewhere off to the side of his brain he was certain he heard a woman's voice scolding someone, but he couldn't be quite sure.
His head rang or was someone sharpening something? Sounds like the machete on the grinder…is Dean sharpening the blades?... what day is it? he wondered and wandered through a black haze of sensory wool before the world snapped to and he remembered everything. Especially Junior's back fences swing with the tree branch that put him down for just how long, he didn't know. Long enough to get myself into a heap of trouble here… some hunter you are Johnny boy… getting yourself caught by ogre jr. and double ugly over there… lemme guess momma's around here somewhere too…okay… just don't give the game away…he kept his breathing shallow and let his head bob down again, pulled by gravity while he slowly worked the knife from his wrist sheath down to his fingertips so he could start working on those bindings.
-
tbc.
I know its not up to my usual standard this time... but I'm trying... Please forgive.
Please R&R Thanks. Sifi.