Chapter 10

This is it Mary.

The father gulped, his hands were shaking with anticipation for the hunt before him. Just get it done right, he reminded himself, waste the thing, grab the boys and leave this town behind us. John had been at the library most of the day, researching the river more in depth.

Apparently it had been host to an unusually high amount of accidents in the past century, not to mention the suicides off that damned bridge. It wasn't that unusual of a river, certainly not the largest in the county but it had a track record to rival some of the better-known rapids in the area. Most of the activity was centered around their part of the county, that being the closest the river got to civilization and meaning more people than there normally would be out in the Tennessee woods.

John chewed on his pen as he wrote all the information down in his journal, thinking about how to summon it. The thing had damn near told John it was there when he was with Sam, but he couldn't risk bringing Sam on the hunt. The bridge seemed to be the hot spot, but John hadn't thought much beyond showing up there and challenging the thing outright to show itself. That was dangerously stupid, of course, and probably one of the most reckless options, but there was little to do in way of trapping a water spirit in the limited time John had. So he'd have to just see what happened… What could possibly go wrong Mary? He thought to himself jokingly.

It hadn't taken him long to pick Sam up from the school and take him back to the clinic. Before he left Holmes had done his best to convince John to stay the night for observation, but shrugging the doctor off, John promised that he'd watch himself and would go straight back to the clinic if he thought something was wrong.

Leaving the Impala at the apartment, John double-checked his supplies as he hiked up the path towards the bridge. His one shot at this was to get the Nixe down quickly and stab her in the heart with his iron knife, all while not allowing her to escape back into the water. To do that, he had his iron knife and for kicks and giggles he also brought along his old M1911 Colt from his time in Vietnam loaded with iron rounds. The gun was probably useless, seeing as how water did awful things to firearms, but John didn't like to go into any hunt without one. Call it being prepared, call it paranoia, whatever, John just liked the added protection.

The bridge wasn't that far ahead, and John could see the river was especially swollen due to the rain and sleet the mountain had gotten the night before. Taking out his flashlight, John searched the waters for telltale signs of the Nixe. He frowned, and went to work finding the flood light on the bridge. He wasn't stupid… he knew his shortcomings and any added advantage John would take, and frankly, he liked the ability to see the thing he was hunting. He leaned over the side of the bridge and scowled. "Come on sunshine… I know you're there," he said challengingly. John checked his Colt and holstered it.

He went to the end of the bridge and examined the bank and the space underneath the wooden bridge. A head peaked up out of the water and slid back silently. A voice echoed in his head. Hunter…

The father tensed immediately… he recognized that voice, it was that of his late wife's. He glared at the spot where the Nixe had been before and carefully descended down the bank, knife in one hand and the other steadying his descent. John felt one of his boots slip and he scrambled to regain control on the steep bank. Slipping down the side of the muddy side, John dug his boots into the earth, dirtying his jeans and leather jacket.

With a splash he landed in the shallows of the river, water lapping up against his denim jeans. He brandished his knife in front of him, whispering, "Come on out…"

"Why would I do that John?"

His eyes flashed around the bank, but didn't see anything. "Let Dean go," John warned to the air. God he hated invisible creatures… he had to draw her out. "This bridge your home?!" He dared, "Release my son our I'll burn it to the ground!" Wind picked up and water whipped into a frenzy around him. He drew his Colt and shot the water in frustration.

"Come on hunter, you're better than this…"

"Stop sounding like Mary!" John barked.

Silence reigned, except the howl of the wind and the water rushing by. Seconds ticked by and John anxiously watched the water. Above him, the bridge floodlight flickered in and out before finally dying and leaving John in the darkness. It wasn't totally dark, moonlight peeked through the clouds, even so, John drew his flashlight once more.

"Fine."

Water erupted at John's feet and he was thrown on his back. He felt arms and hands grab a hold of his legs and pull him under the rushing water, knocking the air right out of him with the shock of the cold water. The hunter slashed with his knife at his attacker. Thrashing violently, John fought against the water until he felt the burn in his lungs from the lack of oxygen and his arm slammed down on the rocks with a sickening crack. Just when he was getting desperate the water around him seemed to collapse, leaving him shivering on the bank on his hands and knees.

John's breath hitched in his throat as a silver figure rose out of the water, bare torso glimmering in the dim light. Long hair matted down by ice and water clung to the Nixe's body, decorated with braided seaweed and lotus flowers. Lupine eyes blinked at John, although she didn't smile, or grin, or anything – no cruelty or playfulness graced her face. "I know what you're thinking John. I didn't hurt your first born."

"Yeah well, sure seems like you did bitch," John answered maliciously. He'd seen the records, how many deaths had been attributed to the bridge and the river. He scrambled to his feet, wincing as he did because his entire left arm had gone numb, and used the wall of the river for support, readying his knife in his right hand. He winced as she stared it him, backing into the riverbank. This wasn't good… John's face paled with a sad thought as the Nixe drew closer… Fay didn't lie, they couldn't.

"I did not harm your son."

John swallowed, feeling the effects freezing water seep through his clothes into his skin. "Make my son better," he demanded, voice firm even though the cold iron knife in his hand shook. Despite the voice of reason in the back of his mind, John needed to blame someone for Dean's illness. He didn't want to be wrong… if he was wrong…

He was wrong. The Nixe wasn't the one hurting Dean... she might not have been a golden ray of sunshine, but Fay couldn't lie, so she must have been telling the truth about Dean. Damnit… he thought coldly.

She blinked again, tilting her head to the side. "I did not harm your son. I am not the one responsible for his misfortune."

"You've killed before."

"True, but not your son."

John smirked, masking his pain with the grin, "Like I'm gonna believe you."

"I give you no reason to," she pulled herself up from the water and John froze. Her serpentine, extremely naked wet body shimmered as she dragged herself from the waters edge and became a long silvery gown. "After all," she whispered into his mind seductively, "I've killed so many… I could take you back to my home, watch as you shudder and draw your last breath." As she thought these things she drew closer to him, her features becoming less fragile and delicate and turning sharper and terrifying. "I'd watch in delight as the light disappeared from your eyes, frozen in despair for Sam… for Mary… for little Johnny…"

John slashed at her across her abdomen with the cold iron. She pulled back in shock, the iron causing spidery purple veins to lace her light blue skin near the wound. The Nixe hissed, barring sharpened fangs. "Hunter I will rip your flesh from your bones and use your blood to color my waters…"

"Not today bitch."

"I DIDN'T touch your son…" she insisted.

He stepped forward brandishing the knife, cocking his head to the side, "You keep saying that and yet I still don't believe you. I once read somewhere that one type of insanity is when something is attempted over and over expecting a different result." John stepped closer, causing the Nixe to fall backwards into the water, transforming once more into a mermaid like creature – this time as a young girl reflecting the fear in her eyes, intently focused on John's knife.

"Your son fell, by accident, and I spared him from the river."

"You are the river," he corrected, not hiding the spite lining his voice.

She smirked, her eyes turning completely white, which seemed completely and utterly wrong coming from the body of what couldn't have been more than a ten-year-old. "You think too highly of me."

John barely had anytime to wipe the blood trickling down from his nose.

"Your son John," she elaborated, "Even you must have heard the whispers. Sammy's special. You're his father John, and he will be ours. Your darling, precious, little angel… you and Johnny have been keeping good care of him. Born of the soldier and the wife."

"Don't talk about my boy like that…" John whispered dangerously.

"Sammy was baptized by fire and blood – your wife's blood. And by now you see how you already killed Johnny. Killed him just as much as Samuel killed Mary that night many years ago…" she teased. She bit her lip in a wicked smile, so much so that dark crimson blood stood out against her dark blue lips and frosted skin. "You killed any childhood that Dean may have had had you simply left Sammy there. You could've had Dean, John. You could have left behind Sam and Mary in your burning house and oh yes… you would have grieved, and you would never, ever, known love like that again…"

Her body twisted and contorted and the river grew more chaotic and churned at John's feet. Where before he had been standing in knee-deep water, now all of it seemed to gather by the Nixe in an angry swirling torrent. She continued on her tirade viciously, "But Dean would be safe. And the two of you would have eventually been happy. Life goes on without Mary John, you survived. Congratulations. But you wouldn't be able to survive losing Mary's son would you?"

"SHUT UP!" John roared, blinded by hot white anger. He aimed to tear across her body but before the cold iron could touch her skin she burst into a million glittering droplets of water, falling on him, leaving him to feel as though he was baptized by the whole of the dark icy depths of the ocean. They splashed into the water and John saw as a dark figure floated up and was dragged along by the current.

"Dad!"

John turned, hearing Dean call him from down river. "Dean!?" He asked into the howling wind, the weather itself turning against John. "DEAN!" He called out again, frantic this time. He knew it was just a trick of his mind, but his parental instincts kicked in and he searched the river for his son. Spotting the green of Dean's favourite winter jacket, John rushed into the deepest part of the river to reach him.

The cold water was a shock, but John forgot all that, and all his bruises, aches, and pains. He needed to reach his son… "Dean!" But the boy wasn't anywhere to be seen, just water – nothing more. John's limbs stung from the icy coldness of the river and the current battered him against the larger rocks amongst the rapids as he tried to maintain a semi-standing position on the river floor. "DEAN! SAMMY!" John hollered, hoping anyone could hear him.

John ran his good hand through his hair anxiously, still searching for Dean with the dim silver light from the moon.

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary…"

The hunter paled, smartass Nixe.

"How does your garden grow?"

Water crashed against John's chest, and the stabs of pain from his arm as the current pulled on it were agonizing reminders that at least it was still attached. The water was nearly up to his shoulders at this part of the river, and would get deeper if he went any further. He needed to get out of the water…

"With silver bells and cockleshells, pretty headstones lined up in a row. By now John you must have realized that you aren't like other hunters even. Your family has a wonderful talent for leaving behind so many people… so many corpses... first your wife… now your son? We must really like you Johnny… so much special treatment for a few good ol' boys from Kansas…"

It was so unlike him, this fear… for one of the few times in his life John was afraid, for his sons, himself… His flashlight gone, his gun useless, armed with nothing but a knife in the dark, John had never felt as helpless as he did just then except for the night that the fire claimed his wife. "Let him go! HE'S MY SON!" John yelled. He wasn't sure if it was the water that soaked him from head to toe or his emotions finally manifesting themselves as tears, but his eyes burned and his vision was glossy. John gathered his breath and whispered, pleadingly, "Please don't take him too…" John didn't know who he was begging to, just whoever would listen. No… John didn't pray to God… but times like this he wished he could believe or have even an ounce of the faith that Mary had.

He stared back at the bridge, far away now after his attempt to rescue a hallucination, just in time to spot the Nixe's head pop up out of the water and slide back down near the bridge. Cold dread pervaded his bones as he stood in place.

"I told you John. Your son is not mine to claim…" the voice said coolly, "Believe me or not… tick tock hunter."

Gripping his knife in his good hand, he attempted to steady himself between a log and a large boulder. His eyes didn't leave the spot where she had been and a few anxious moments John began to spy ways to pull himself out of the river without damaging his now probably broken arm. He needed to get out of the water and onto the high ground, someplace where he wasn't at such a disadvantage… someplace…

He looked down as water retreated from his midsection, which he assumed was a very bad sign. A few months previous, when the Winchester family lived in Florida along the Atlantic Ocean, he had been listening to Sam talk about what he learned in class. Sam was learning all sorts of things, about hurricanes and tornadoes, and how to spot a tidal wave. The key sign that there was going to be a large wave was when water would seem to vanish from the beaches – that's how to tell… this was the big one. John watched as a wall gathered at the bridge and he had only a moment to draw a quick breath before the torrent of water crashed into him upon him and carried him to the rapids down river.

Author's Note: And the rating goes up to T haha... and a evil cliffhanger mwahaha... Thanking Homeric once again for the beta work. I can't say how frustrating it is writing fight scenes, but how enjoyable they are once they're done. And raise you hand if you like the Nixe as much as I do! I love her… she's awesome.

And once again, doing my duty as a comic book nerd, I wanna hark on more fans reading the comic, because it gets better with each issue. Bobby was in issue 3! And some scary new details about Sam.

Leave a review! I'd love to hear your thoughts about the past couple chapters!