Chapter Fourteen
…
Ransik's Hideout- The Prison Ship
4:25 PM
The sounds coming from inside the prison ship were violent, animalistic; a loud, dangerous scream startled the animals who lived in the forest that surrounded the city of Silver Hills, and they took off running or flying away. Birds shrieked in fear, flapping their wings as they jumped from their treetops; a young coyote growled nervously at the ship for a moment before deciding to go the other way. No one wanted to be near the ship that night, or the ranting mutant leader within its walls.
"Ransik--"
"Don't you dare tell me to calm down, VAMPIRE!!" The mutant leader screamed at the top of his lungs.
The metal actually rattled around them, the floor vibrating under their feet. He was panicky, sweating and hurting himself in his violent thrashing around the small area. The robot Frax and the mutant Gluto nervously stayed out of his way, afraid of being caught in the same crossfire that several cyclobots had already met. His temper was well beyond control or containment, and it was just getting worse and worse... mostly because every time he hit something with his injured arm the small group of vampires actually grinned.
Or laughed quietly to themselves.
"Oh, I'm not going to tell you to calm down." Dominique couldn't help the smile that graced his face, he drawled on in his French accent. "In fact, I think you're acting rather appropriately considering your little girl is now at the mercy of two very vicious Hunters, who are well known for having short tempers and big imaginations. And a demon. If she's lucky they'll just kill her out right, if not, well…it sure won't be pretty."
Ransik lunged at the dominant twin, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him violently against the wall. Dominique barked in pain and snarled, baring his vampire teeth at the mutant. Ransik snarled back.
Dante launched forward and roughly shoved the mutant back and away from his brother, catching an elbow to the face as Ransik fought back against the movement; Dante's face twisted dangerously in defense of his older twin, snarling and looking much like a rabid monster.
Even in his rage Ransik backed off at the protective aggression expressed by the twin.
"That was uncalled for," Dominique growled, his voice raspy and broken by Ransik's grip.
"'Uncalled for'?" Ransik spat. "Are you mad? What is uncalled for… is you and your kind taking pleasure in imagining what is happening to my daughter right now!" He stuck his hand out, one finger extended and pointing at Dominique menacingly. "One more word… and you're dead."
A smile crossed Dixon's mouth before it faded back into his solemn face and he licked his teeth. "You're all assuming they'll just slaughter her like Hunters do."
"You don't think so?" Angelique chirped, one hand toying with her white blonde hair.
"Hunters are murderers, Dixon," Peter snapped, the teenagers eyes going cold. "They kill without hesitation. They slaughtered your daughter, remember? And my sire and sister. And all of Angelique's family. They're monsters. They don't have souls."
"And demons are worse," Dante spat, his eyes flickering with experience.
"You're all forgetting that they're babysitting… those sweet, innocent Rangers--" Dixon taunted darkly "--won't let them lay a hand on her."
Ransik seemed to calm slightly, but only for a moment, and then a shadow crossed over his face and his voice deepened with worry. "You're wrong," he whispered, "the Pink Ranger… she's been pushed too far. She'll do things the others won't approve of, but she won't care."
"I was about to say… that is of course if they haven't snapped because we turned their nest into a roman candle," Dixon continued, "all humans have a breaking point where they go from curiously annoying fodder to savage, murdering animals." The flicker in Dixon's eye blazed slightly, exposing his true nature for a split second before it buried again under the cold demeanor.
"Anyway, if you want the parts back to bury you have to go get them. They won't even bargain her smoldering corpse back to you," Dixon finished coldly. Ransik launched himself at the back of Dixon's head where the vampire was sitting on the couch.
"Control yourself, Ransik." Dominique swiftly stepped between the mutant and his target, making the larger man balk.
Dominique's tone was quiet and calming, coaxing and soothing Ransik out of his rage. "Ransik, we can track your girl. A mutant's scent is very different than a human. And it'll be easy to track the demon, too.
No doubt they're baiting us and there will be a trap. We're already two steps ahead. Control your temper and we'll go get your little girl back and make sure we have some of our own weight to throw around."
Ransik paused.
"If she dies," he hissed, "you all die."
…
Desert territory
Forty miles outside of Silver Hills
7:34 PM
The coyote crept closer toward the sound of a mouse rustling in the scrub brush, his large ears perked forward and bright yellow eyes catching the light and reflecting it. The coyote's paws tucked up under his belly, he waited for a heartbeat before launching at the small sounds in front of him.
The animal yelped and rolled in surprise when the otherwise silent evening of the desert was shattered by the rhythmic thumping and chattered lyrics of music. Spooked, the coyote stood stiff, ears twitching and eyes flashing around, curiosity bubbled at the human voice and the animal scurried swiftly toward the sound. Pressing close to the ground, the canine slid along as the noise got louder and louder until it drowned out the natural sounds of the desert.
The coyote crept over a small ridge and poised, looking down at the odd sight of what seemed like a small
human party clustered around three vehicles. The coyote cocked his head slightly and sniffed, catching the faint scent of food, and boldly crept forward, hoping to scavenge some garbage.
A thunderous bark stopped the coyote's heart and the smaller canine whirled and tore away from the huge white dog that lunged at it from the side. Ears pinned and snarling over his shoulder at the monster the coyote broke for safety and freedom, the snarling dog snapping at his tail and haunches.
A sharp whistle cut over the music.
The albino shepherd stopped dead in his tracks, bristling and baring his teeth after the fleeing coyote.
"C'mon, Valentine!" the sharp male voice called him back. Slightly disgruntled, the dog turned and trotted
back down toward the group.
"Leave him alone, he's got enough troubles," Eric growled good naturedly at the German Shepherd and patted the dog heavily on his shoulder when he was close enough. Valentine seemed to grunt and slunk off to sit in the shade of the tailgate with Buckshot, streaking his snowy fur with mud. Eric sighed and looked up toward the looming cloudy sky, dark storm clouds churned threateningly over them, but for the moment the rain was holding off. Eric sighed again and looked around. Katie and Lucas were standing a little ways off having a small conversation. The other three had made themselves comfortable on the truck, Jen pulled her legs up to her chest and crossed her arms around her knees, eyes darting around the area, wide and alert. Dean, Sam and Celia were nowhere in sight. The Silverado's front cab doors were swung open, battery running and the sound of old country poured out of the stereo systems, settling jangling nerves.
Eric let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and pulled open the cooler lid, digging into the ice and extracting a beer, then let the lid drop. He muscled the cap off and sipped the alcohol before deciding to go find a Winchester or the redhead to talk to. Hell of a lot better than hanging around with these guys, he thought, glancing back at the Rangers.
Eric walked around Wes' parked motorcycle to the truck where Wes, Trip and Jen were perched, the boys' legs dangling over the edge of the tailgate. The Rangers watched him walk by but didn't speak to the Quantum Ranger. Eric continued around the side of the truck, pausing to look at a large dent in the side of the bed, trying to figure out what could have made the mark before forgetting about it all together and moving on toward the front end and the scent of nicotine. He stopped a few feet short at the sound of the Winchester's and Celia's voices speaking, he listened intently over tune and lyrics.
"…running low on time here, Dean," Sam said quietly, his voice tense.
"I know, all right?" Dean snapped, "I know. But maybe it's going to have to be like the old man said. I made the deal, maybe I've gotta lie down in the bed I made."
"Dean--" Celia started to growl.
"Look, Celia. Sam's alive, that's what matters, all right? If I have to die for that, then so be it."
"Damn it, Dean, stop martyring yourself!" Sam snarled. "Did you honestly think for one second when you were making that deal that I wanted you to die for me!?"
"You weren't wanting anything, Sam," Dean growled back, "You were DEAD. Stone cold with a big hole in your back, remember?"
"If you had thought about it for one second, you would've known it was stupid."
"I did what I had to do!"
"No! You did what you wanted to do!" Sam nearly shouted, but caught himself in time and kept his voice low. "You weren't thinking of anyone but yourself… especially not me!"
Eric twitched at the sound of Sam's boots slamming into the earth and then fading as he stormed away. There was a loud sigh and a string of curses.
"Dean, it's not right," Celia said after a second. "How could ya make that deal?"
"You know how… Sam was dead, M'amin."
Eric's brain clouded with confusion.
"He was dead because I didn't get there fast enough. I couldn't live with that."
"First of all, Jake killed Sam and Azazel was stringin' Jake along. What happened wasn't yer fault," Celia insisted. "And yeah, ya couldn't live without yer baby brother but did ya ever stop and think what it's goin' to be like for him when yer time's up? How the Hell did ya see it fit to drop on him that same fate that fell on ya? It nearly killed ya when ya found out yer dad…" her voice trailed off.
"Sam'll be fine," Dean argued back, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Celia.
"How the Hell do ya figure?"
"He'll have you."
"Dean--"
Eric tensed at the sound of Dean walking toward him, the Ranger stepped fluidly back into motion. He nodded slightly as he passed the elder Winchester.
"Red over there?" Eric asked casually.
Dean grunted and kept walking.
The Quantum Ranger cast a look over his shoulder before stepping toward Celia, his dark eyes flicked sideways to light over Nadira's unconscious form sprawled on the rear passenger seat. The gash in the side of her head had stopped bleeding at least, but she still looked like she'd been mauled, her shoulder was heavily bandaged. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the mutant. She had only ever seemed to care about jewels and money, not pain and destruction like her father.
The redheaded woman glanced up as he approached, a cigarette was set between her teeth and she looked somewhere between distraught and pissed.
"Shouldn't smoke those things," Eric muttered, swaying his stance to stand in front of Celia. The bottle of Lager settled loosely between his fingers. His eyes darted to her hand when she pulled the cigarette from her lips, there was an unmistakable desire in his eyes.
Celia sighed quietly and held the half smoked cigarette out toward him. Eric breathe heavily, eyeing the offer and drawing in the scent of tobacco.
"I haven't since I was fifteen," he said. Celia started to draw the cigarette back but stopped when Eric leaned forward and reached, lightly taking the stick from her hand and set it between his lips, inhaling the drug and exhaling through his nose.
"Since I met you three I've been breaking a lot of personal rules," Eric spoke, making no move to return the cigarette, twitching it between his fingers. He offered her his beer in trade but Celia lifted her own before taking a drag of the alcohol.
"When ya start breakin' them is when ya know ya've made too many for yerself," Celia advised quietly. "A few cardinals ya never touch is all ya need, everythin' else is free game. My father taught me that."
"Sounds like a wise man." Eric tapped the cigarette and puffed it once more before handing it back.
A second of silence lingered.
"Ya heard."
It wasn't a question. Eric steadied himself. "What happened?" He knew she couldn't dance around this one. Couldn't tell him it was 'nothing' when the words involved were 'Sam was dead' and 'I have to die for that'.
Celia sighed and chewed her lower lip. "Nine months ago, this guy named Jake severed Sammy's spine with a buck knife. He died in five minutes…while Dean held onto him. For three days Dean panicked and rotted inside… couldn't bring himself to bury Sammy, either. Holed up in a broken down place with his corpse and an old friend of ours-- Bobby --he was tryin' to stay close, make sure Dean didn't do anythin' stupid, second he turned his back Dean ran to a crossroads and summoned a demon. And he struck a deal."
"His life for Sam's," Eric concluded.
"Not exactly." Celia shook her head, gritting her teeth. "Usually when ya make deals with that sister ya get a fair amount of time before they collect. Ten years typically. But Dean… he's been a Hunter all his life, done too much damage to their side for them to let 'im get away with a deal like that. He bargained right down to a year. Deal's up in three months…and we can't find a way to break it."
Eric stood for a second, mulling over a few long minutes.
"No leads at all?" he asked.
"Well… there's this one demon that we've gotten a bit of an idea that she might be the one to go for. Name's Lilith but she's hard to pin down, she possesses little girls and we can't decapitate every eight year old we cross. Sammy wants to ask the peacock pack back there about usin' future and forward thinking', maybe even goin' back in time to change the deal. Dean's been in denial for six months, just figured out that he doesn't want to go to the Pit. And I'm just so nervous that I might think 'bout talkin' to the Chieftain."
"Who's the Chieftain?"
"A horse god I've tangled with all my life. Sam and Dean, too. He can be real helpful and compassionate but he's…violent."
Eric nodded, wondering if now that he was aware if he would ever cross an actual god.
"Never believed in gods before," he said, softly.
"Oh, they exist all right." Celia took a puff from the cigarette and looked distantly off toward the horizon. Looking east, Eric followed her gaze, he could almost feel the homesickness dripping off her. "Who knows if the One does or not."
"Can you go home?" Eric asked, for the first in a very long time actually trying to lighten the mood.
"Hell yes and I'm ready. The boys, too." She flicked her blood colored eyes to him for a second. "Ya should come with us."
Eric froze with his Lager poised toward his lips. "What?"
A sharp whistle cut through the air. Celia and Eric twisted toward the noise. She dropped the cigarette and ground it under with her boot and led Eric toward the tailgate and other Rangers and the brothers.
"What?" Celia asked, irritably.
"Dogs are growling," Sam said and motioned toward the snarling and bristling Buckshot and Valentine.
Celia reached up and stripped off her bandana before vaulting up to squeeze between Wes and Jen, she walked to climb up onto the top of the Silverado cab. She stood to her full height and looked around the desert area as cool air washed across the land.
"Anything?" Sam called up to Celia's now thirteen foot tall vantage point.
Celia seemed to smell the air, drawing in sharp and deep breaths.
"Somethin's comin'," she called back down, sliding down to open the toolbox and extract her favorite 50 AE Desert Eagle. She ejected the clip, tapped it against the stock then slid it back into place before reaching for a knife left soaking in the small bucket of dead man's blood. Sam and Dean looked between each other and headed for the Impala trunk, keys in Dean's hand.
"Vamps?" Jen asked.
"Most likely," Celia replied, "And don't think for a second they don't know we're tryin' to bait 'em. We've just gotta be smarter. Y'all gather up any supplies ya managed to save from the Tower, this is gonna be a Hell of a fight."
"Come on, Wes," Jen said, hopping down from the truck and heading over to the Impala, where Sam and Dean were bent over the trunk. The tension between the brothers was evident, though neither Ranger knew what was going on.
"I'm heading out," Sam said, slinging a backpack over his shoulders.
"Where're you going?" Dean demanded.
"We can't just sit here and wait for them to show up," Sam said, "I'll go out, get a look at them, see how many they sent and how far away they are. Then I'll come back."
"I don't want you going alone."
Sam rolled his eyes. "I think I can handle a simple recon."
"Jen--" the Pink Ranger's eyes focused on Dean when he said her name "--you mind going along with Sam? I mean, you know anything about being stealthy?" He smirked. "'Cuz those costumes of yours aren't gonna cut it."
Not hesitating, Jen nodded, turning around and ripping off her black jacket, tossing it to Wes before stripping herself of the hot pink, long-sleeved shirt she was wearing; the three men blinked in surprise, she was standing before them in nothing but a mini-skirt and a black bra, oblivious to their attention. Jen grabbed the jacket back from Wes, buttoning it up.
"Let's go," she said.
Dean chuckled to himself before punching Sam's shoulder, not at all lightly, and warning: "Be careful." Then he turned back to the trunk and started rummaging through the layers of clothes and weapons, he grasped the handle of a bright orange box and handed it to Wes. "That's definitely not mine."
"No," Wes laughed, "That's definitely mine."
Dean watched the Red Ranger as he popped open the box, then pressed a button, causing five motorcycles to materialize no more than 10 feet away from the two of them; each was a different primary color, clearly assigned to each Ranger. Dean blinked. "Not bad."
"Trip built them," Wes said, then laughed at Dean's surprised glance. "I know, right? Kid's a freakin' genius."
Dean shook his head, snatching a 12-inch blade from the trunk and fastening it to his built. "So Trip's a genius, Lucas is a race car driver, Katie's got the strength, and Jen's a super soldier… what do you bring to the team?"
Wes shrugged. "My DNA," he said, weakly.
Dean raised his eyebrows, confused.
"They're all from the future," Wes explained, "I'm not. Before they ever came here, Alex-- Jen's fiancé --was the Red Ranger, and the morphed was locked to him. To his DNA." He hesitated. "It's weird… but I'm, uh, identical to Alex. We have the same DNA, by some weird twist of fate."
"So you've got the same face as Jen's dead fiancé?" Dean said, incredulously. "Ouch."
"Yeah…" Wes looked back toward the path Sam and Jen had taken. "It bothers her… it would bother anyone. But the way she lost Alex… she never even had a second to mourn him, just had to get right back into the job and go after Ransik."
"And see you everyday," Dean added.
"A constant reminder of what she lost… she says she's getting over it now, that it doesn't upset her so much anymore. She sees me instead of him." Wes didn't look convinced. "But I'm not so sure."
"She still wears her ring," Dean commented.
"In her mind, she's still engaged."
Dean checked the chamber to the M-16 he had pulled out, then popped a fully-loaded magazine in it and slammed the bolt forward, positioning the a round directly at the mouth of the barrel, ready to be fired whenever the trigger was squeezed.
"What's that?" Wes asked, changing the subject.
"M-16...assault rifle," Dean explained, "military issue but you can buy them easily enough. Sammy wanted to get an M4, basically the same thing but with a shorter barrel and a collapsible buttstock."
"Why didn't you get it?"
"Shit aim, it's not as accurate as this baby. Not for long distance anyway." Dean handed Wes the weapon, he held it like it was an alien object. "Not much of a gun-nut, are you?"
"Not really…" Wes said, "I was rarely the one handling the guns if I was around them, those belonged to the bodyguards." He rolled his eyes.
"'Bodyguards'? Damn…your dad must be hot shit, huh?"
"If by 'hot shit' you mean 'rich as fuck'… then yeah." Wes examined the rifle for a moment, his blue eyes crossing down the sleek, black body of the weapon, pausing over the trigger and then traveling up the barrel. "I always kind of had an interest… just never got to learn. What kind of round does this thing shoot?"
"5.56mm… maximum range of thirty-six hundred meters. Shoots in semi-automatic and single-shot modes--" Dean grinned "--but it's easy enough to make it fully-automatic, if you've got the know-how." He took the rifle back, cleared it of any rounds, and then popped out two pins and took apart the lower and upper assemblies. Quickly and efficiently, he stripped it down and pointed out the trigger assembly to Wes, who was enraptured. "See this? It's called a sear… shave it down a little bit to get rid of that nick there, and your weapon will be automatic. Otherwise you can only shoot three rounds at a time, or just one."
"That easy?" Wes looked surprised.
"It's the military, everything's easy," Dean answered. "Of course, once you've shaved it down like that, you're stuck. You'll have to get a whole new sear if you ever wanna go back to single shot. And replacing all that shit? Pain in the ass."
"Dean!" Celia called, "y'all ready?"
"Yeah." Dean grabbed another knife, and then a handgun, and slammed the glossy black trunk shut. "Hope you enjoyed this little lesson," he said, "now it's time to get to work."
Wes kept in step with the older man as they walked back to the truck. "How do you know all this?"
"Been Hunting all my life," Dean replied, easily. "And my dad was in the Marine Corps."
"So was mine."
Dean nearly burst out laughing. "Never would've thought that…from jarhead to multi-millionaire! Guess he hasn't done so bad for himself." He handed Celia a knife as he passed her, then hopped into the bed of the truck. "Wonder if their paths ever crossed. Was he a grunt?"
"A what?"
Celia chuckled. "A grunt… infantryman. Combat arms."
"Oh… yeah. He was in Vietnam when he was nineteen, back in 1970."
"Your dad?" Eric said, obviously shocked.
"Didn't you ever wonder why he's such a hard ass?" Wes said, his lips curling into a smirk. "Before I knew about it all, I used to just think it was because he was so old, he was in his late-thirties by the time I came along and I thought that was crazy," he laughed as he said that. "Now…sometimes I'm surprised he didn't make me refer to him by rank growing up!"
"How long've they been gone?" Celia questioned Dean, suddenly.
Dean glanced at his watch. "No more than ten minutes, probably be a little longer before they see anything, depending on how fast they're moving."
"Knowin' Sammy? Probably ran two miles already," Celia sighed, running her finger along the glistening blade of the knife she held. "I'm gonna go check on our friend, see if she's woken up yet."
"Probably been fakin' this whole time," Dean remarked.
As he spoke, an angry-- and terrified --screech came from the cab of the truck, and the whole vehicle rocked as the mutant princess awoke to find herself in unfamiliar surroundings. Unfamiliar… and dangerous. Nadira hissed at her captors, the nails of her fingers extending to fine points as Celia opened the truck door and glared in at her; she was chained to the seats, unable to move, to defend herself.
"Looks like Sleepin' Beauty's awake all right," Celia said.
Dean came over to stand beside her. "Nothin' personal, sweetheart," he said to Nadira, "But we've gotten sick of this cat and mouse game we've been playing since getting here. It's time to finish it."
"You're all dead!" Nadira screeched, "So dead you don't even know it!"
"We'll see about that," Wes said, standing behind Dean and Celia and shooting icicles into the mutant with his clear, blue eyes. "But if I were you… I wouldn't be so sure." He flashed a white-toothed smile, an action that seemed to infuriate Nadira even further.
"Daddy's on his way, hope he's got my knife…" Celia said, more to her allies than her prisoner. "I reckon we shouldn't make it look like we've given his little princess too hard of a time, probably just piss 'im off even more an' that'll make 'im real dangerous." She slammed the door shut as Nadira screamed. "She can stay in there… for now. If she starts tearin' up my truck the bitch is dead."
"What should we do?" Wes asked, "'til they show up, I mean."
"Set up a perimeter," Eric advised, "Keep the best fighters closer to where the action's gonna be… the best shots further away." He shrugged, as if making a suggestion on what to have for lunch instead of how to plan a battle.
"Sounds good to me," Celia agreed, "Which means Dean, you stay far out. You got those blood-soaked bullets, right?"
"Duh." Dean rolled his eyes.
"Great." Celia paused, then explained to the Rangers: "Dead man's blood is like poison to leeches, makes 'em real sick, helpless."
"I soaked all my rounds in blood," Dean said, "That way, when I snipe one of 'em, they're down for the count. Who else is a good shot?"
"We all are," Katie spoke up, confidently.
"Even with these old things?" Celia questioned, tapping the Desert Eagle on her belt.
"Time Force trains us pretty well," Lucas said, "we got training on all kinds of weapons… even ancient ones. Trip is probably the best shot here, but he's a better fighter than me and Katie, too."
"I can shoot," Wes volunteered, then amended: "I mean… I never learned much about the guns, but I did learn how to shoot them. Dad always said I was pretty good."
"Awesome." Dean tossed him the M-16. "It's easy, just line up your target with the sights, and pull the trigger. Remember-- squeeze it nice 'n slow, don't yank it back."
"Kid, I know yer a good shot," Celia said to Eric, "but yer too good of a fighter to lose, so yer stayin' down here."
"Works for me," Eric replied, responding to the nickname without hesitation.
"All right," Dean said, "Wes, you take up position up there--" he pointed toward an outcropping about a hundred meters out "--don't shoot unless you're sure you can hit the target. Once we start firing they're going to spook. You guys say you're all good shots, so Lucas I want you to set up over there. Katie, they could use your strength down here." Dean reached onto the bed of the truck and snatched the .243 Winchester laying there, then handed it to the Blue Ranger. "Same thing, aim and shoot."
"Be careful," Lucas said to the Yellow Ranger, tapping her shoulder before walking away briskly.
"Ya be careful with my rifle." Celia called after him, Lucas made a dismissive wave of his hand. Celia growled. "That boy's got alpha thoughts in his head since he drove my truck."
"I'll be in the Southwest corner, up there--" Dean waited 'til Celia acknowledged him, then took off, slinging a rifle around his back.
"Now we wait," Celia said, settling herself against the truck and staring down at her watch, the muscles in her jaw twitching nervously and a hand lighting on the stock of the Desert Eagle and blood soaked buck knife. "Sam should be comin' up on 'em anytime now…"
…
"So… you and your brother," Jen said, quietly. "You've really been hunting all your lives?" She raced from one scrub bush or boulder to the next, staying behind cover as often as possible while still scanning for movement in the dead night.
"Just about," Sam said, equally quiet. "I mean, Dad didn't have us hunting poltergeists before we could walk or anything like that… Dean's first kill wasn't 'til he was sixteen. Mine when I was thirteen." He hesitated, reflecting for a moment on his childhood. "Wasn't really much of a choice, I guess. Our mom was killed by a demon when I was six months old, my dad was determined to find out who-- or what --did it. I can't blame him."
"Most people could," Jen said.
"Don't get me wrong… I did," Sam amended, "for a long time. I wanted a normal life, and I didn't care what it took to get one." He ran a hand through his thick hair. "Hard to believe I was ever that stupid, you know?"
"Doesn't sound stupid to me."
"It was. I learned that."
"… What happened?"
Sam grimaced, reaching up to grasp the limb of a large, scrub tree as he hoisted himself up, trying to gain a better vantage point of the rolling desert. "My girlfriend… Jessica. She was killed by the same thing that killed my mom."
"I'm sorry."
"It was over three years ago," Sam said, "sometimes it feels like less… but it's gotten easier." He looked at her pointedly. "It will get easier."
"It will once that bastard Ransik is rotting in a prison cell," Jen said, firmly.
Sam sighed in frustration. There was nothing to be seen. He slid down the tree as he spoke again: "Can't say I blame you… but you've really got it out for him, don't you?"
"You could say that," Jen admitted. "Ransik… he took away the only person I'd ever really loved. I always got along okay with my family, but not like… Alex and I had something special. Something that doesn't just come along everyday, you know?" She shivered. The desert was always cold at night. "We dated for almost four years before he proposed, he didn't want to make any promises he couldn't keep, and he knew that making a commitment like that when Ransik was on the loose would be a mistake." She smiled, sadness and bitterness in her eyes. "We waited too long."
"Ransik killed him… right in front of you?"
"He died in my arms."
Sam flinched, then swallowed. The action seemed like it took a lot of effort from him. "I know how that feels," he said, softly, "I was going to bed and… I felt something fall on my face. It was blood. When I opened my eyes, Jess was… she was on the ceiling. She didn't die 'til the flames burst around her."
"Sounds awful."
"It was." Sam sighed. "What you went through… it must've been hard. It must still be hard. I think… if Alex were alive, he'd be proud of you."
Jen's eyes were suspiciously wet as Sam finished speaking, but she shook it off, refocusing on their mission. "Let's go," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "We've got a lot of ground left to cover."
…
Jen silently made her way up the slippery dirt ledge and crouched there, her keen eyes peering out over the desert; it was an act of sheer discipline that controlled her breathing as she watched the pack of vampires of mutants make their way across the land, her nerves were on edge, and she had just traveled five miles. Running most of the way.
On the ground below, Ransik led the group of mutants, vampires and robots. In one hand, he held a giant sword, his grip on it deadly; bitterly, Jen recognized it as the same sword he had cut down Alex with. Just a step behind him, the twin vampires walked, every now and then pausing a moment as if to smell for something in the air, or touch the ground. A few feet behind the designated leaders, Gluto and Frax and the rest of the vampires followed. Even further behind, a cluster of cyclobots marched along, completely unaware of what was happening.
Behind her, Sam's radio crackled as he tried to reach his brother: "Dean? Dean, it's Sam, can you hear me?"
A moment passed, then…
"Yeah, I'm here. What's up?"
"We spotted them. About five miles out, coming from the North."
"How many?"
"Five vamps… at least twenty-five cyclobots, and four mutants, including Ransik."
"Make that three mutants," Jen corrected him, "That last one is Frax, a robot." She shook her head. "I don't recognize the other one though, Ransik probably got him out of the X-Vault before coming here."
"Correction-- three mutants, one robot," Sam spoke into the radio.
"We're ready for 'em. You guys make your way back here."
"We're coming." Sam turned the radio off, then looked back at Jen as she made her way down to him. "You ready to do this?"
"Are you kidding?" Jen said with a smile. "I've been waiting to do this a long time."
TBC