Disclaimer: I do not own the concept or characters from the show "Supernatural." Any other characters not related to the show, The Vampire Diaries or Nightwold series, however, are mine and are not to be used in any other fan fictions. Some concepts were also borrowed or loosely adapted from L.J. Smith's "Nightworld" and "The Vampire Diaries" series. This chapter has information on the episodes up until 05/14/09. I will not include any spoilers for future episodes of Season 4 until they are released on TV. This is the start of a new trilogy. The first trilogy is: "Possession," "Broken," and "Sacrifice," followed with a new trilogy, starting with "Mission." This story takes place following the events in "Mission," and has the same characters from the first trilogy. I do not own any quotes used in the actual episodes. Any lyrics mentioned in this story do not belong to me.
Dean deliberated as he faced the white coquina wall, the muzzle of a gun pressed uncomfortably into his back. Should he swing around and attack? There was a good chance he'd be able to knock the gun away before his assailant got the one musket shot off in time. Even so, guns weren't accurate, but, at that close range? Didn't seem like that was a smart move. Plus, he had promised Abby he'd be good.
Damn it all to Hell.
"I said up against the wall," the male voice snarled.
Fine. He'd be good...but he kept his hand by his knife, just in case.
"I'm not lookin' for trouble," Dean said as he carefully spun around to face his attacker.
"You," the man spat, "You little fool. You were you staking out my establishment earlier when you interrupted my time with Abigail. Ha! I should have known. I knew you were a creep from the moment I set eyes on you. But why are you here now?"
Dean inhaled deeply, tryin' his best to hold back his temper. That was the jerk; the one who had and who would hurt his Abby. It took everything he had not to deck him right there...or worse.
He remained silent, refusing to answer the man's question. Why should he give him an answer? Fuck 'em.
"Answer me," the man pressed, putting the hard gun against Dean's chest.
He still didn't budge.
Finally, William had enough, violently pulling Dean forward by his shirt. As soon as the man had his hand on him, Dean had the knife in his grip. He quickly knocked the gun away and pushed William up against the wall across the narrow, dark alley, the knife precariously at his throat.
"Just give me a reason," Dean muttered to himself as he met the frightened eyes of the man. The blade was dangerously close to William's neck, already nicking the tan flesh. A droplet of blood began to spread and trickled down his throat towards his chest.
All the while, the ignorant prick didn't take his damn hand off Dean. In fact, he was pulling harder, the fabric of Dean's shirt taut against his body. What an idiot. There was a rip, and the front of Dean's top ripped open.
At once, the scene changed. Dean was still playin' with the idea of slicing the guy when William threw his head back and began to laugh.
"You--you're a hunter," William chuckled, releasing his hold. "I'm terribly sorry, friend."
Friend? No fucking way. Dean didn't let the knife drop.
"You bear the mark on your chest," he explained as he pulled a silver chain out from under his shirt. The medallion on the necklace perfectly matched the symbol tattooed on Dean's chest. "You wear the mark of protection. I'm sorry for having pulled a weapon on you. Can never be too careful, or so I am told."
'You better let him talk, Dean,' his mind said. 'If he thinks you're on his side, he might spill alotta beans.'
'Do it, Dean,' his ego spewed, 'He should pay for what he did.'
Unfortunately, rational thought won over the devil on his shoulder.
"Yeah, sorry," Dean apologized, trying not to cringe at the words he was about to say. "S'orry I pulled the knife on you. Like you said, can never be too careful, right?'
"Indeed," William replied, straightening out his own shirt and coat. "What brings you to my place of business so late this evening?"
"Just wonderin' if my inkling about you being a hunter was right. Guess I owe myself a beer," he smirked as he wiped the blood off the knife, tucking it into the back of his pants. "Just lookin' for clues."
"Oh you wouldn't find any in there anyway," William smiled. "I just found out about my heritage a week ago. If I would have known the Campbell family were involved in this, I surely would have followed their noble path. It was my parents who hid it from me, who destroyed my choice to be a hunter. I am only taking my rightful position in the fight against malevolence."
'Campbell,' he thought, remembering that it was also his mother's maiden name. 'Could they be related...nah. There was no way...right?'
"And, what about youself," William asked, leaning against the wall across the way. "What brings you to St. Augustine, hunter?"
"Tracking down a woman. Maybe you've seen her? She wears a black cloak."
William's mouth went taut, he crossed his arms defensively over his chest.
"Perhaps."
"Gee, might help if you tell me where and when," Dean pressed. "Might make this a little easier, ya think?"
"Well, if we are sharing, then perhaps you'd be so kind as to divulge information regarding The Stuarts."
"Fine. The cloak girl, first. Who is she," Dean said, his heart racing. There he was, about to solve the mystery hundreds of years in the making...hopefully.
"A dark haired woman. She did not give me a name. She only said she was a messenger sent to spread the word that The Stuarts are evil spawns of Satan. Then, she gave me my birthright and told me it was up to I to stop it."
"Stop what," Dean pressed.
"The killings, of course," Campbell answered matter-of-factly. He described the recent string of murders that had started several weeks before. Young women, children, healthy young men all found drained of blood outside of town in the wilderness, obviously dragged there as they struggled to break free of their captors. "My friend, the wounds on the throats could only be done by one being; vampires."
"So you got it all figured out, right," he smirked at him. "You have cold, hard proof that it's The Stuarts?"
"I believe I do," he smugly replied.
"Well, I hate to break it to ya but...they aren't vampires, chief," Dean smiled. "You gotta be batshit crazy to think the Stuart family are bloodsuckers."
Maybe not the brightest thing to say, but at least he got some of that off his chest.
"You--you are no hunter if you could not recognize it. Their pale flesh, their graceful gait, their ethereal beauty. You would have to be blind not to pick up on those characteristics. Even before the cloaked woman revealed their identity to me, I knew they were something else."
"Sorry, gramps," Dean shrugged. "You're barkin' up the wrong tree with them. Gotta get back though. Long night with Abby." With that, he turned around and walked away, well aware the douche was following him.
"It's her, isn't it," William laughed. Dean stopped. "It is. You fancy her; Abigail. You're protecting her and her heathen family."
"Don't," Dean warned, pivoting around to face him. "I'm protecting a girl from an asshole. A crazy, sick sonofabitch taking advantage of a naive teen and takin' her to bed."
"Well aren't we up on The Cross," William smirked, approaching him slowly. "A cheap whore like Abigail? I'm sure you've already had a piece."
Dean's face flushed, his heartbeat thrumming through his body and into his brain. He couldn't think clearly, facing the man that he swore he'd hurt if he'd ever met the fucker. And there he was, talkin' bad about his woman.
"Abby is...loose with her morals," he continued on. "As it turns out, not only is she a cheap hussy, but she's a freak as well."
"She thinks you love her," Dean said. "I told her you were full of shit."
"Perhaps once, in the beginning I did, but what I realized was that I loved the escape from my normal life. I loved the idea of her. But, who in their right mind would love an incorporeal being? Abby Stuart is nothing but a common, divisive, manipulative whore who would kill all of us if she had the chance. I'm just going to make sure she doesn't get it."
Unable to hold his rage back any longer, Dean charged at William full force. Just as he began to rush forward, William smirked, pulling out a pistol from his back pocket.
Bang!
He shot at Dean, missing his target by pure luck and shitty aim. So he continued his sprint to the enemy, bum rushing him with his shoulder and pushing him to the paved street with a heavy thud. Dean punched William's face, the blood from his nose splattering on his own hands as he continued on with the assault. He hit his face, his chest with ferocity, filled with a rage for the man who had violated his Abby. His hand pushed down on his chest, practically breaking William's sternum in the process. Dean couldn't help but smirk down at him as the man gulped on his own blood, writhing in agony at the battering.
Swiftly, he pulled the knife out again, placing it up to William's throat, fully intending to end it right then and there. Blood flowed freely down the scalpel onto his hand, distorting the reflection of himself in the glinting surface.
Would he just kill a human? Whether of not the guy was a complete dick didn't matter. He was still just a human who hadn't done anything--yet.
All he could picture in his mind as his hand grasped the dagger was the memories of Hell. Him slicing at the flesh of others, feeling gleeful at their spilt blood and chilling screams of redemption. Had he been driven to that point...back to being that Dean?
With a irritated sigh, he backed away from William, but remembered to give him a hard kick in the side for good measure.
That made him feel a little better.
"You go near her or touch her…fuck even think about hurting her or her family in anyway, I'll fucking end you," he said, wiping the blood off his knife on his pant leg.
He turned and walked away, heading back to the Stuart manor. Part of him was aching to be near her and protect her more than ever. After all, their time together in St. Augustine was short and he was gonna take advantage of anytime he had left with her...even if it was just to say goodbye.
"So you kicked his ass, huh," Sam smiled, tossing his worn out form on the bed. After Dean got the luxury of the mattress for a few days, it was finally his turn.
"Yep. He ain't pretty any more," Dean smirked, lounging on the chaise, his hands behind his head. "But this chick that was talking to him; she knows stuff about the supernatural. So that means she's either part of it or knows it. Considering the handwriting from both times are the same, my money's on same person. Over 300 years old...I'm banking on paranormal. Shifter, vamp, demon. She could be anything."
"But she knows their family from either now or knows someone in it. If they know anyone well, it's gotta be Ann. She must know this person somehow. But whoever it is knows Ann has a daughter. I'm guessing that's who the other 'she' referred to in the letter I found," Sam mused as he started to fall asleep.
"I'll take first shift," Dean said.
"Dean," Sam yawned. "They're not going to attack the house tonight. We know that."
"I know, but maybe this chick will end up comin' here for one more shot at Ann."
Sam wondered about that, but he felt that Ann's 'last chance' was at the dance. If she would have agreed to 'take her rightful place,' then the woman would have never given her that letter. Ann Stuart had made her bed and would have to deal with the consequences. If only she knew how truly dire they were.
"I don't get it," Dean thought aloud. "I don't get what this rightful place business is. It's obviously important; important enough to kill for. But what the fuck does it mean?"
"Wait," Sam said, propping himself up on his elbows to look at his brother. "Didn't Castiel say something about Abby being royalty at one point?"
Dean's head snapped up, his body following suit, as he sat on the edge of the chaise, his elbows resting on his knees.
"Yeah, he did...a while back. Years ago. You think that's what rightful place means, Sammy?"
What else could it be? Ann ran away from her home in Europe, dragging Thomas with her...but why flee their home where they were rich and well-known? They were escaping their destiny. Or, at least, Ann was trying to escape hers. If Sam knew anything, it was you couldn't run from who you are; one day, it would jump up and bite you in the ass with out even knowing about it.
After having breakfast with Ann and Thomas, Dean found Abby on the balcony again the next morning. She 'wasn't feeling well,' and had refused to join the others.
"I'm sure she'll be feeling better shortly," Ann smiled, signaling the servant to clean up the plates. Dean had to laugh at the fact their hosts' plates were still mostly covered with food. But boy, did they have that pretend to be a human thing down pat. "Samuel, would you mind checking on my daughter?"
"Dear," Thomas cut in, "Didn't you want to speak to Samuel about something in private?"
"Oh, I forgot! Thank you, husband."
"Dean, would you mind seeing if my Abby is doing better," Thomas smiled at him, and nodded towards the stairs.
Gotta love the father-in-law.
He bounded up the stairs before the mother-in-law had a chance to dispute.
Her door had been left partially opened by her brother, who had visited earlier that day, only to leave in a great hurry.
"Can I come in," Dean asked. She nodded and gestured for him to close and lock the door.
She sat on the balcony railing in the sun, the rays doing nothing to her pale skin. She was wearin' a light pink dress, a color she wasn't accustomed to wearing at home. Strange. It was flowing, the skirt going from her feet to just under her bust line. Maybe it didn't accentuate all of her curves, but she still looked irresistibly beautiful.
"Good morning," she greeted him with a smile, gesturing to an empty chair across from her.
Dean smiled and took a seat.
"Mornin', Abby. Heard you aren't feelin' well," he asked, leaning in closer to her, resisting the urge to rub her knee like was used to at home.
She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly sad; the storm against the backdrop of the perfect Florida day.
"No, I am not well, Dean."
"Anything I can do to help," Dean offered with a shrug, sitting back his chair.
"Not unless you can take me away," she laughed, tilting her head back to look at the sky, her black hair dangling behind her in waves. He noticed her hand was spinning her bracelet on her wrist.
"Abby," he whispered, throwing caution to the wind and grabbing her wrist in his hand. His fingers gingerly caressed her hand up to her arm, where he was used to a scar from her near suicide incident. This Abby's flesh was supple and new; no marks on her. Even the gory fingerprints from the night before had vanished. "Are you still feeling sick from last night or--"
"Dean," she whispered his name like a prayer, "no--no it's not that. I've--I've gone and done it, you see. I've ruined everything I wanted. All my dreams I divulged last night are over. My adventure has already ended. I thought that I was just ill from being poisoned as a child--a late onset of nausea and complications…but alas--"
He looked at her, his head tilted in question as he continued to massage her bare skin.
"I'm with child, Dean," she whispered, her eyes refusing to meet his.
Those words brought back a slew of emotions from his own experience with her in his own time. So far, for all the times Abby had said those words to him, present time or past, it was with utter and complete sadness. That's not how it should be. There should be happiness, balloons, cigars, hugs…but for them, there never were any in the beginning. In the end, most definitely. They have the three greatest children anyone could ever ask for. But, in the beginning…
"Dean," her voice brought him back, her eyes pleading with his, watering to the brim. "I can't fathom…"
"What, sweetheart?"
"Becoming a mother," she said the word like it was pure blasphemy, the tears finally sliding by her face. She slid off of the balcony onto the hard balcony floor and he instinctively fell down beside her, wrapping his arms around her cold body.
He let her cry, rocking her slowly, running his hand through her ebony locks.
"I'm scared," Abby sobbed. "I have no idea what to do."
"Well, what parent does, Abby," he chuckled from experience. "All first time parents struggle. There's no magical book on parenting."
"This ruins everything. This--this thing," she said with scorn which instantly shocked him. "This thing is going to destroy every plan of escape I've ever had. I'm trapped here forever."
"This doesn't change anything," Dean said in her hair, breathing in the fresh scent of lavender in her hair. "You can still go out on your own."
"Dean, who in their right mind would allow a single woman and an infant on a ship alone? No one. They would need an escort," she laughed at her circumstances. "And who would do that?"
"I would," he said with conviction. "If you wanna leave, I'll go with you."
She laughed, pulling herself away to look into his eyes, expecting him to be joking. Surely a man like him didn't just offer to take care of her and her illegitimate child? But, his eyes were sincere. Hell, he'd been there before. Didn't matter who the sperm donor was, all that mattered was the guy who stuck around to do the real job.
"Dean--I--I can't ask you…"
"You didn't ask. I offered," he smirked. "I'm serious. Me, you and Sammy. We'll go north to Boston."
"And the baby," she asked, still looking at disgust down at her stomach, his own twisting in knots at her obvious disdain at her condition.
"We'll say it's mine…if you don't mind of course," he cleared his throat.
"I--I don't know. What about William--"
"Fuck him," Dean blurted out before he could register what he was about to say in front of the lady. "What I mean is… Abby, he doesn't love you, alright? Just like I told you last night. He won't care about that baby either-"
"But he's the father, Dean. He ought to know!"
'Huh, and then years later she wouldn't tell the father. She's all gung ho right now. Interesting.'"James doesn't think I should tell him either," she admitted, Dean pretending to look shocked that she told him. "He's my brother, Dean. I had to tell someone. James told me not to tell William. That we'd, as a family, move somewhere and can pretend I am a widow who lost her husband while she was pregnant. But I don't want to go with my family. If I am forced to raise this…baby…then I would like to do it on my own."
Dean reminded her, whether or not she was on her own, she'd always have both of the boys at her side if she wanted them to join her. They could protect her. Plus, Dean had some good child rearing skills. She didn't pry into it further.
"Whatdya say," Dean asked, taking the back of her hand to give it a kiss.
She gasped at his touch, suddenly pulling his face to hers and kissing him fully on the mouth.
"Yes," she whispered, her breath cool against his lips. "Yes. I'll go with you."
"Awesome," he smiled. "But that means you have to promise me one thing."
"That is?"
"You can't tell William. Not. At. All. We'll leave tonight, Ab. Until then, you stay here. Got it?"
She nodded with a smile but for some reason, he didn't believe her.
"Dean," Sam scolded as they talked outside the manor. They'd just gotten back after spending the day in town, searching for the cloaked woman with no luck. And then Dean had revealed his little plan for them to run off with Abby to safety. Yeah, that was a smart idea.
"I know--I know! I know I shouldn't have, Sam, I had to do somethin', alright?"
"What if this works? What if she leaves with us? Are you willing to accept the consequences of your actions," he asked his older brother.
"Yes. I'll take whatever punishment I have comin', Sammy. You weren't there. You didn't see her. I did what I felt I had to do."
"Fine," Sam said, walking back to the house.
Wasn't his fault that his dumbass brother never actually thought before he made a goddamn decision. No, it was only Sam had to struggle along and pick up the pieces, just like he did after Dean had sold his soul to save him. Typical, short-sighted Dean.
"Where you goin," Dean asked, setting off after his brother towards the Stuart's house.
"To talk to Abby, alone," Sam said, as Dean ran to catch up to his brother's longer stride.
"Woah, Sam. Back the fuck up--"
"No, you back up, Dean! I need to ask her something, alright. You stay here. "
Sam opened the door and headed up the familiar stairs to the last bedroom on the right.
Knock. Knock.
"Abigail?"
He pushed the door open with caution.
"Abby," Dean asked, right at his brother's heels.
No answer.
They both entered the room to find it neat and in tidy order. The only thing out of place was a trunk of her belongings on the floor near her bed. On top of it was a letter addressed to Dean.
My dearest Dean,
I'm sorry. I had to tell him. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't let him know he was a father. Please forgive me. I will return shortly and then we can leave on our adventure.
You have no idea how much I treasure your friendship, even only after this short time together.
With love,
Abigail.Sam watched as Dean's hands crumpled the parchment, almost hearing his brother's mind snap. Tossing the letter down, Dean violently swung the door open, running down the hallway.
"Dean! Dean," Sam called after him, his brother running faster than he'd ever seen before. "Dean! Slow down."
Dean ran to the barn, grabbing two horses by the bridle and pulled them over to Sam.
"We gotta hurry," Dean said as he hopped up on a black horse. Sam put his foot in the stirrup, tossing his leg over the gray one his brother had brought him.
On their horses, the pair headed towards the town, Dean always pushing his horse one step ahead of Sam's.
Was it worth it, Sam asked himself. They knew the result. They knew what would happen. Why was Dean so determined to try to right it? Or, why was he rushing to witness it?
The noise of the horse hooves sounded different, signaling the transition from turf to stone. They had arrived in the city. Sam watched as Dean tried to hustle the horse through the town, only to find most ways blocked by people.
"Damnit," his brother hissed, jumping off of the horse, tying her to a hitching post.
"Dean," Sam called after his brother, already losing him in the crowd.
He continued to call after him, as he got himself off of his horse, searching for him in the crowd. He only prayed that he wouldn't cause any more damage than he already had.
Finally he saw him, speaking with a familiar face: James.
"What are you babbling on about," James asked, looking at Dean like he was crazy. Truth be told, he probably was.
"The doc is gonna hurt Abby, James," Dean said, unwisely grabbing onto the already irritated vampire's collar. "You gotta help her. Where'd they go?"
"Take your hands off me...now," the vampire hissed at Dean, shrugging his grasp off of him. "What do you mean by hurt?"
Dean went on, not going into to much detail, but telling him that Abby was in extreme danger.
"This isn't funny," James said crossly.
"It's not a joke, James. Look, he's dangerous and he's gonna freak when she tells him she's preg--"
"She told you," the vampire asked, tilting his head in bewilderment.
Dean nodded.
"James, this is important," Sam broke in, "Do you know where they are?"
James looked around, shifting his eyes from one street to the other.
"I don't know," he admitted with a sigh, running his hand through his mahogany hair. He put a finger over his lips and gestured for them to go into an alleyway for privacy.
"Look," the vampire whispered. "I only arrived here a while ago. My sister believes I'm at home, stalling my parents on her whereabouts. I couldn't let her meet this...fiend alone. I'm only down here because I don't trust him."
"So you have idea where they're meetin'," Dean pressed.
"No," he scowled. "If I did, I would presently be there and not wasting my time with you."
Dean and James stood facing each other, both angry, irritated and itching for conflict.
"Guys," Sam snapped. "We gotta find her now. Any ideas?"
'They used to meet somewhere...where,' Sam pondered, trying his best to jog his memory.
"James, do they meet somewhere for their...meetings?"
"Meetings," he scoffed. "Not likely they'd be at his house with his wife present, is it? I don't know for sure. There are several inns here in town. Could be any of them, or at a house of a friend."
"We'll split up," Dean said, "Just point me in the direction of an inn and we'll go look."
"Are you just going to knock on people's doors, Dean," James scoffed.
"If that's what it takes to keep your sister safe? Then yes. Come on, Sam," his older brother reacted as James pointed down the street towards an inn. James took off in the opposite direction, slowly making his way to the hotel. From his deliberate sluggish pace, he didn't believe them.
As they rushed towards the building, a being blurred through the shadows on their left. From the shape of it, it had to be male.
"James knows," Dean gulped as he raced to the building. "Remember the story, Sammy, he can smell her blood!"
His heart thrumming in his chest, the beat all he could hear, Sam chased after his brother as they entered the hotel and dashed up the wooden staircase.
Before he knew what he was doing, he ran straight into Dean's back who was paralyzed with what he saw. Sam didn't need to look to know that if it startled his big brother, it had to be bad.
It always surprised Dean how much blood was in one small person. You never really knew until it was out of them and spilling onto the floor like some cheap horror movie. But, there it was…and it wasn't on film. In a movie, you could detach yourself emotionally from the action and the horror of it all. Couldn't do that when the person who was gushing blood was the one you loved.
He watched as James gasped, trying to revive his sister.
Abby's eyes were half open, the only movement in her body was the constant twitching of her right hand. Her body was strewn awkwardly on the bed, her limbs akimbo in a way that looked painful. Her legs dangled off the edge of the bed, her dress and the bed near them soaked with blood and spilt red wine.
If that wasn't bad enough, the heap of bloody tissue in the corner revealed what Dean already knew; the baby was gone…and so was the Abby he'd learn to care for during his time in the past.
"I'll kill him," Dean swore with quiet determination. "That sonofabitch is dead."
James was too consumed by the ailing Abby to agree with him.
Dean stepped back, letting James take control of the situation regarding his sister. He was too overwhelmed to help.
"We need to get her out of here," James said, lifting his sister up as she groaned in pain. "I'm going to bring her home."
"You can't do that," Sam said. "Go anywhere but home."
"Why not," James asked with a raised eyebrow.
"They're already there," Dean said.
"Who? Will one of you explain to my why I shouldn't rush home and fetch a doctor?"
"Take her somewhere where she can heal quickly," Dean said, his eyes never leaving the gaping wound across Abby's abdomen. "Don't go home. William's already gathered up the other hunters."
"Wh-what?! You expect me to believe--"
Before he could even finish, James was gone, taking Abby along with him.
"What an idiot, Sammy. He's gonna look anyways," Dean muttered.
"Then when he sees the house burning, he'll take Abby to that house in the woods. If we get on our horses, we can meet them halfway."
Dean gulped and nodded, turning around and walking down the stairs, trying to appear like nothing was going on. His chest was tight and he was in a daze, still reeling from seeing her like that. Not that he hadn't seen her banged up before, but what he had just seen was...coulda been the worst thing he'd ever saw in his life.
...Maybe.
They began walking together in silence, the smoke from the Stuart's house visible in the distance.
'I'm sorry,' he thought. 'I'm sorry I let this happen. Maybe if I wouldn't have pissed off William, he wouldn't have attacked so soon.'
They walked about ten feet into the woods before a blur appeared in front of them once again.
"Samuel, Dean, take my sister," James hurriedly ordered, placing a still bleeding and unconscious Abby in Dean's arms. "I have to go check on my parents."
Before they could argue with him, he disappeared from sight.
Dean gazed down at Abby, her lifeless eyes rolling into the back of her head. Still cradling her body, he knelt down on the damp ground, holding her head and balancing her body on his thighs.
"Hey, sweetheart," he whispered down at her, sliding the bloodsoaked hair on her face behind her ears. "You'll be ok."
It was true. He knew she would. He wished she was strong enough to see into his thoughts; maybe she'd be less frightened.
"Sammy, give me your coat," Dean ordered his younger brother.
Without a sound, Sam handed him the jacket. He grabbed it, asking Sammy to hold her up slightly, as he tied the jacket tightly around her midsection. She grunted in pain.
"Shh..it's ok," he consoled, still straining the fabric against her wound. It would hurt for a while, but better the wound be closed off than open.
The fabric of Sam's tan coat was already turning a grisly burgundy.
"Hold her," Dean said, carefully handing her to an already kneeling Sam.
He removed his own coat, tying another barrier around the broken girl's midsection. That's all they could do for her; try to stop the bleeding and pain as much as possible and be there for her.
Dean gestured for his brother to return his burden.
He took her into his arms and cradled her close. Surprisingly, her eyes fluttered open; she was regaining consciousness. He didn't really know if that was a good thing.
She groaned, her eyes filled to the brim with tears.
"Shh, don't talk, babe," he forced a smile. "Don't move. You'll be alright. Your brother is comin' back, ok?"
Abby sighed and slipped back into unconsciousness.
There was a rush of wind and Abby was already out of his arms.
"James," Dean yelled after him, seeing the man running in the distance.
He didn't answer or slow down.
Dean nodded to his brother and they both jumped on their horses, galloping quickly after James. With every hoof beat of the horse on the ground, Dean had the urge to turn back. In his cold heart, he wanted to kill William.
It was his only chance to teach the douchebag a lesson...and after years of stewin' in the fantasy of it all, he had the opportunity and motive. He be damned, but he was gonna take it.
Dean quickly stopped the horse and turned him around, heading him back towards the city.
"Dean," Sam yelled after him.
"Follow them and make sure they're ok, Sammy. I'll catch up. I got somethin' I gotta do."
"Dean, what are you up to," Sam muttered to himself, as he hustled his horse into the distance.
Mile after endless mile of dense wood had finally turned into a wide clearing. Set inside the meadow was a small, abandoned looking house, the glass window panes reflecting the moonlight.
Jumping off the horse, he rushed to the house, cautiously knocking on the door.
Of course no one was going to answer.
Sam jiggled the handle slightly and gasped.
A hazy form zoomed from out of no where and pinned him hard against a nearby tree.
Frightened, he looked down to see James, his canines extended, hissing at him with a rage that ran deep.
"YOU," he spat. "What are YOU doing here?"
Sam explained that he had followed him out, that he wanted to check on him and his sister.
James squeezed his hands more tightly on Sam's throat.
"Please," he gasped. "I didn't have anything to do--"
"But you knew," James growled. "You knew...what--who are you?"
"If you put me down, I'll explain everything," Sam calmly replied.
James was clearly conflicted. Should he trust him? Why should he, when his sister was approaching her death in the other room?
"If you do anything to hurt me or my sister, I'll make you pick up your gun and shoot yourself in the head. Do you understand?"
Sam nodded right before falling to the ground with a thud.
"Come with me," James said.
He opened the door and gestured for him to come in. Sam remained silent as he crossed the small threshold of the house. Well, it was less of a house and more of a well-kept shack. The perfect decoy.
In the corner, curled up in a ball on a small bed was Abby. She was shivering and covered with a thin blanket.
"How did you know," James pressed, his face only inches from his own.
"We knew what you were...but we never wanted you or your family hurt, James. We were protecting you form other hunters."
James tossed his head back and laughed, putting both hands in his hair, desperation across his face.
"I warned Mother, when you two arrived, that she was inviting death into the house. Between my feelings of terror and Abby's dreams I knew something bad was going to happen. And my mother brushed it off as nothing. May she rest in peace."
The grieving vampire choked down a sob brewing in his throat as he pulled at his hair, finally releasing his strands and tossing his arms to sides.
Abby moaned and he automatically went to her side.
"I've got to get her to a doctor, Sam."
"I'll leave.. Good luck to you…and I'm sorry, James. We truly didn't mean for this to happen," Sam said. "Look, why don't you take her to a doctor. If they show up here looking for you, I'll send them down a different way. Ok?"
"Why should I trust you," James hissed as he cradled Abby in his arms.
"Because we're all you have left."
Dean stood by the town gates that lead to Abby's old home, which by then was reduced to burning rubble and ash.
The hunters had all been dispersed, most likely to search for the one who got away. After all, William thought Abby was a done deal. The only one missin' was Jamie.
Over the dune he could see the asshole's smug grin. Blood was still splattered over his clothes, the sweat dripping down his face from the intense heat of the blaze. There was absolutely no remorse. No sadness. He was the most evil lookin' thing he'd seen in a long time.
Dean didn't say anything as he approached him.
Williams eye's widened as he tried to pull a weapon from his belt. When he had his fist raised with a weapon, Dean shot at his hand, the enemy's weapon quickly knocked away.
With a deadly smirk, Dean approached him, pulling out his knife.
Good, William was preoccupied looking for a new weapon.
A quick arc of his arm, and William's wrist was bleeding.
'This is it, I'm gonna finally do it,' Dean smirked
As he pulled back his knife to go for William's chest, there was an eerie flash of light, and he found himself back in his living room…300 years later.
"Sam," Dean called, rubbing his eyes and searching around the room.
"Over here," Sam said from the couch on the other side of the space.
"You ok, bro?"
A small squeeze on his shoulder caused him to flip around.
"Easy Dean," Cas soothed. "You're back."
"We had to bring you back, Dean," Anna stepped in. "We couldn't let you do what you were about to do."
"Anna! Cas," Gwen called from the top of the stairs. "Abby's awake and doing better. I put her in the bathtub to relax. Hey guys. Welcome back."
Anna turned to him, placing his hand in her own and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
"Go to her, Dean. She needs you."
With that, he rushed up the stairs.