A/N: Almost done! Hang in there!
Disclaimer: Only own my awesomely epic, extremely badass, ridiculously hot OCs. :D Though, I do wish I owned Jensen Ackles…. *tear*
Chapter Thirty-Six
Say WHAT?
Thunder Creek, Wyoming
July 7, 2006
Sam snapped the last journal shut, frustrated. Cryptic mentions of a Brotherhood, the Law, and the Conclave, but nothing that actually meant anything. He sighed and rubbed his face. Should he confront Dean? What was he supposed to do, walk up to Dean and demand, "Hey, Dean… I trust you and all, but are you in some kind of creepy Cult?"
Yeah, because that would go over so well.
He chewed his lip absently as he thought. There had to be some connection, between him and this demon, his visions, this Cult (Brotherhood, whatever)… obviously, Paige and her family were involved. So… so maybe that's why Chris had died? Dean had said it was a demon. Maybe it was the Demon.
No, impossible. Dean would have told him something as major as that. Besides, their dad would have known.
But then, dad wasn't too chatty about things demon-related either.
Threading his fingers through his hair, he blew out a frustrated breath. Something big was approaching, he could feel it. Something didn't feel right. What he needed was to get back out there and fight alongside his dad, with Dean, and with the Colt, to kill this bastard once and for all.
Doubt nagged at him. Was Dean actually doing this for the reasons he claimed, or was he a puppet to be used by this Cult, this Brotherhood? Did he speak for himself, or did they speak through him?
Somehow, he had to bring this up with Dean. He had to know.
"You shouldn't be in here."
Cursing, Sam leaped out of his chair and landed in a defensive position before relaxing. A man stood in the doorway to the library…the same doorway he'd come in. He was as tall as him, his face in darkness, only a section of his forehead in the light, sunlight glinting off close-cropped, pale blonde hair. He was dressed in jeans, combat boots, and a form-fitting black long-sleeved shirt.
"Who are you?" Sam demanded harshly.
"Nobody that concerns you. Get out." A hand flashed up–large and scarred, he noticed–to jerk his thumb at the door to the hallway. "I'll be sure to mention to Paige that some creeper was nosing around in her private study."
Sam took a threatening step forward. "Who the hell do you think you are?" he growled.
"Someone who could kill you in a second, freak," the man said dangerously quietly. A knife was in his hands now, fingers pinching the point. He was relaxed and tense at the same time, and Sam somehow was reminded of a lion about to pounce for the kill, lazily displaying his strength. He had no doubt that this man – whoever the hell he was – could bury that thing in his heart, no problem.
"I'm not a freak," he said tightly. "Who are you?"
"Nice try. I'm not an idiot. Now scram." He leaned his head forward a mere fraction, enough for Sam to see a flash of light blue eyes that startlingly reminded him of someone he'd known long ago, but who… he couldn't remember.
"You have three seconds before this knife goes through your neck. Three, two…"
Sam vanished out the door, banging it shut behind him.
"…One." He moved into the room, returning the knife to his thigh sheath, smile curving his lips. "Didn't think so, book worm," he said to himself, returning Paige's journal to its rightful place.
Maybe Samuel Winchester wasn't suited for the Brotherhood, after all.
Every one of his Brothers would have pounced on him.
Sam, well… he'd tucked tail and ran.
But then, maybe that just made him smart.
Something to think about.
xxx
Dean weaved through the crowd, spotting Brad on the porch swing, hands folded in his lap. He moved and sat beside him, stretching his legs out.
"Sam was watching the meeting," Brad said, watching the children continue to play.
"I know. I heard him gasp when you mentioned the Demon." Dean glanced over at his father-in-law, uncertainty flashing on his features. "Brad, do you think we should include him in the loop? I mean… he's in the middle of this, too. I've kept him in the dark since I brought him here. It's starting to bug me."
"Not yet. I don't know your brother well enough to be able to tell if he's trustworthy."
He sighed and crossed his arms, green eyes troubled. "I trust him, Brad," he said honestly. "He's a good kid. He just has… well…"
"Revenge issues. I've seen it. That's dangerous, Dean. Too dangerous," Brad said gently, squeezing Dean's shoulder. "He has no thought for himself. If you weren't there with him he'd be long dead. He doesn't think."
Dean had no argument to that, so he stayed silent. "He's going to have questions," he warned.
"And what will you tell him, Dean?"
"My Oath to the Brotherhood binds me to silence, you know that. I can't tell him anything until we bring him into the Brotherhood. I know the Law."
"Good. Breaking the Law wouldn't be a good idea."
"So we keep him in the dark." Dean puffed out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair.
"He's been in the dark for months, Dean," Brad pointed out. "He's been fine."
"Yeah, but up until now he didn't know."
"Tell him what you can, Dean. Just enough to placate him. No more."
Dean sighed, not liking it one bit. "Very well," he agreed reluctantly.
Brad stood and stretched in mimic of a cat, arms high over his head. He reached down to clap Dean on the shoulder. "You'll make a good Conclave member some day, Dean," he said cheerfully. "I am honored to fight by your side."
He grunted but said no more as Brad disappeared into the crowd.
"You mind?"
Dean glanced up to find Noah standing there with two steaming cups of Paige's famous coffee. "By all means," he said, waving for his friend to sit down. He accepted the cup Noah offered him, blowing gently on the steaming liquid.
Noah sighed gratefully and sprawled comfortably, long legs stretched out in front of him. "Your brother fails at stealth," he commented.
He snorted. "I take it everyone noticed him then?"
"I noticed him the second he edged his damn fool mammoth frame into my peripheral vision. He was trying to blend with the bookcase. Somebody ought to tell him that doesn't usually work very well, not with those massive shoulders. I mean, maybe Sammy could pull it off, but that's pushing it." Noah chuckled and took a sip of the coffee.
"You look tired."
"I am. My damn idiot boss is running us ragged."
"More like John Newbern is running you ragged," Dean pointed out, taking a sip of the coffee and groaning appreciatively. "Sucks for you that a member of the Brotherhood just so happens to be your boss."
"Hmph, don't remind me."
"You have a new mission?"
"Yep. We head out at 1400 hours."
Dean glanced down at Noah's watch. "Dude, that was five minutes ago," he pointed out.
"Shh," Noah cut him off, lifting a finger. "What Cory doesn't know won't kill him. I'll blame it on traffic."
"Noah."
"What?"
"We're in Wyoming."
"Yeah…so?"
"So, there's no traffic in Wyoming."
Noah groaned. "You just have to ruin my day, don't you, Winchester?" he sighed, hauling himself to his feet again, downing the rest of the coffee in two searing gulps. He looked down at his friend. "See you around. Congrats again on the little guy, he's adorable. Thanks for letting me be his godfather."
"Thanks and you're welcome," Dean said, taking the empty cup and setting it on the side table. "You and Mike be careful, you hear?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"Say goodbye to Paige, too. She'll kick my ass instead of yours if you don't."
"I know," Noah said with a playful grin. "Take care of those kiddos for me." He flashed Dean a one-fingered salute before heading off to say the goodbyes.
Dean settled down in the swing again, sipping his coffee.
A cry rang out, loud and insistent. His eyes flew immediately to the gaggle of playing children, spotting Owen with a bloody scrape on his elbow. He glanced longingly down at his coffee, sighed in a resigned fashion, and set it on the side table, setting off at a jog down the steps.
Time to be a dad.
July 10, 2006
Thunder Creek, Wyoming
Sam's eyes flew open suddenly. His heart was pounding a mile a minute and his head felt heavy. The adrenaline rush was making him sweat even as he laid there struggling to remember why he had woken up so suddenly. He rolled over to peer at the clock, reading six o' five in the morning.
Huh.
It rushed back to him – the library, the meeting, the Conclave. Ever since that day it had been eating at him, the sudden knowledge of that secret society and the fact that his older brother was very much a part of it. So far it seemed nobody knew he was onto them, or so he hoped, anyway.
All of this thinking wasn't going to get him anywhere. He rolled back over, watching Ally sleep. She seemed so innocent when her face was unguarded, her eyelashes a dark brush against her cheeks. Sometimes he wondered if he was doing the right thing – was he only marrying her because he'd accidentally knocked her up (twice) or because he honestly loved her? Was he marrying her because she made him happy (which she did) or because he had to? His twisted, agonized, and confused mind had difficulty separating feelings of Jess from feelings of her…even when his heart knew that he loved her. It did make him feel unfaithful, even though he'd gotten her pregnant before he'd ever even known Jess, before Brady had even introduced them.
He'd just left Ally behind without ever knowing what he was missing. Had he known, he never would have been with Jess – he would have been by Ally's side to welcome their son into the world, to love him and Ally, to be a faithful husband and doting father to their precious little boy. For some reason, fate had stepped in and put him with Jess. It was all so confusing – Ally, his first love, versus Jess, the first woman he'd wanted to marry.
Except that she wasn't the first woman he'd wanted to marry. He had wanted to marry Ally, but had never acted on that feeling because a part of him, a large part of him, knew that at the end of that fateful semester, she'd have transferred to Harvard like she'd planned and he would have returned to Stanford, on opposite sides of the U.S. It never would have worked, not with just the two of them.
The difference being that he would have made it work, for Levi's sake, if not just for Ally's. He regretted leaving her when he did. Maybe if he had, Jess never would have died – and then it would have been Ally dead on that ceiling, Ally burning to death, and him alone with a baby son like his father had been all those years ago.
How was he supposed to sort through those feelings – to value one life over the other? He didn't KNOW who he loved more, that was the problem. All he knew was that Jess' death was eating him alive with guilt and Ally was the only one capable of making him feel happy again.
Shaking himself free of such thoughts, he carefully extracted himself from the sheets and bent to kiss Ally softly on the lips, smiling when she wrinkled her nose up slightly and rolled fully onto her side facing him. Grinning now, he jumped in a quick shower and dressed, closing their bedroom door softly behind him so that she could get some extra sleep.
He slipped across the hall to their son's nursery, finding Levi sleeping peacefully. They'd had a late night at Dean and Paige's and he hadn't been put to bed until late, so hopefully he'd sleep in a little. He stood in the doorway to the nursery and studied his surroundings, amazed that in such a short time this place had became home to him.
Ally had decorated the entire house herself. It was two-storied with enough windows to let in the summer light and keep out the winter cold at the same time. The upstairs had five bedrooms and three bathrooms as well as a room they'd turned into a study. The master bedroom was farthest back and had its own bathroom. A door from the room led to Sam's study, bookshelves lined with hunting-themed books and a computer fast enough for him to do as much research as he liked.
Levi's nursery was directly across the hall. It was nautical themed, built by hand by Dean and the rest of the gang. They'd painted a mural of a cartoon-type sailboat on the open seas and had painted a compass on the ceiling, the fan directly in the center, making a faint click-click as it rotated to keep the room free of the summer heat. There were shelves of little sailboats, a wooden ship's wheel hanging on the wall, and paintings of lighthouses and sea life at patterns on the wall. Wooden letters painted a dark blue that spelled LEVI hung over Levi's bed. He'd graduated from crib to bed a while ago, the toddler bed spread with a hand-sewn image of a lighthouse that Ally's mom had made for him, little head resting on a ship-decorated pillowcase.
The boy's nursery was next door to Levi's, the girl's next to his. The two nurseries had identical furniture arranged in different ways. The baby boy's nursery was rocket themed, the girl's ladybug themed. Ally usually had an aversion to all things pink, but he'd managed to win her over with promise of browns and whites intermixed with the pink.
The living room was warm and friendly with plush couches, a play area for Levi and the soon-to-be-born twins, brightly colored rugs and pictures on the wall of Levi and several images of Ally's childhood as well as snapshots of them together, probably snapped by Paige when neither Sam nor Ally was paying attention. It brought a sort of family aura to the room, paired with the vases of sunflowers, orchids, and roses giving the downstairs a pleasant sweet scent. The kitchen's walls were a soft green, the cupboards, table, and chairs oak with marble countertops. Attached to the kitchen was the dining room, with a long table to seat at the very least fourteen people to compensate for their large combined families.
A sunroom was at the front of the house, one wall lined with bookshelves with a fireplace on the opposite side, plush armchairs and a window seat with bright homemade pillows giving a view of the front yard, the quarter acre of land lined with a white picket fence with a midsized oak tree in the front yard. A flowerbed was up against the face of the house, a swing on their small porch, with an additional swing hanging from the strongest branch of the oak tree for Levi's enjoyment. The path to the house was decorated with colorful stones and concrete squares with their handprints and names.
The grass was green for the summer, the flowers in bloom, petals opening in the rising sun. The backyard contained a sandbox and a Jacuzzi, currently covered with the tarp. Ally's Yukon XL was parked in the garage. He strode down the stairs to the kitchen and dug around in the fridge for breakfast.
Pancakes, eggs, and bacon seemed simple enough. He opened the kitchen windows to let in the warm breeze and started whipping up all the ingredients he would need. Ally hated eggs but he and Levi loved them, so he beat three in a bowl and added some diced onions, tomatoes, and peppers as he'd observed Paige do on numerous occasions.
A soft cry over the baby monitor encouraged him to pause in making breakfast and hurry upstairs to intercept Levi before he could wake up Ally. He bounded up them three at a time to find Levi stumbling out of his room, stuffed dog Fly tucked under one arm and feet caught up in his blue blanket, lovingly dubbed Buckie.
"Hey, you," Sam crooned, scooping him up and nuzzling his cheek. Levi was only half-awake but becoming fully aware quickly, eyes brightening as he brushed his tangled mop of dark brown hair into a less unruly mess on his head. "Want to help daddy make breakfast?"
Levi nodded and peered at him over Fly's head, eyes crinkling as he smiled even though Sam couldn't see the bottom half of his face. He wiggled to get more comfortable and allowed Sam to quickly change his diaper and carry him downstairs.
"Well, Lee, daddy doesn't have a clue how to make pancakes," he said as he settled the two-year-old on his hip. Ever since Levi's second birthday on June 25, he was noticing more and more how much Levi was growing up. Levi did love it when you talked to him, so Sam did that all the time.
"Nilla," Levi said hopefully, pointing to the cupboard to the left of the sink.
"Vanilla?" Sam repeated, opening the cupboard and spinning the spice thingy around until he found the little brown bottle. "Mommy puts vanilla in pancakes?"
"Oco, oo."
"Chocolate, too, huh?" Sam mused with a grin, dropping a kiss on the end of Levi's nose. "Now, that doesn't surprise me. One of these days, your mommy is going to turn into chocolate, she eats so much of it." He chuckled when Levi grinned. "Here, want to stir?"
Levi nodded, so Sam bent lifted the bowl in his free hand and tucked it against his chest, watching Levi seize the spoon in both hands and stir it with enthusiastic excitement. He splattered pancake batter all over the both of them, but they were laughing and giggling to much neither really cared or noticed.
This was why Sam loved mornings now – he not only got to spend them with his beautiful fiancé, but with his wonderful son as well.
xxx
Ally was awake and had been for a while, listening to the boys giggling in the kitchen. She hoped they were behaving themselves. She sniffed the air and could smell bacon as well as something burning. It took extreme energy, but she managed to force herself awake and to sit up, hands cradling her ever-growing stomach. It was almost surreal that only four days from now, her and Sam would be married.
She stretched and took a long, relaxing shower, letting the warm water soothe the aches and pains that came with pregnancy. Using the brand-new soft towels she dried herself off and pulled on a simple sundress. Usually, she wasn't one for dresses, at all. With her growing belly –– the twins were due in September–– she'd realized that dresses were loose and comfortable and didn't constrict. So, sundresses had become sort of the norm at the moment.
The giggling had increased downstairs, and when she entered the kitchen, she paused for a moment to watch Sam and Levi attempting to flip dark brown pancakes they'd obviously forgotten about while cooking the eggs.
It was difficult not to laugh, but she managed. She watched for a moment before taking pity on her struggling soon-to-be-husband. "Need some help?" she said gently, turning off the burner and removing the spatula from his grasp.
"Mommy, ook eekfist," Levi said proudly, beaming.
Ally's grin stretched from ear to ear. "Oh, really?" she teased, poking him gently in his super-sensitive stomach. "I think you more killed breakfast than cooked breakfast."
"Oops," Sam said with a sheepish grin.
"Uh-oh," Levi said at exactly the same time, forlorn.
"To Dean and Paige's?" Sam guessed, glancing from the burnt pancakes to the burn eggs to the burned bacon. His face fell slightly. "I tried," he said.
"I know," she said gently, kissing him deeply. "And thank you. But," she snorted in laughter, "I don't think we should eat that." She pointed to the food.
Sam grinned. "Guess not," he agreed, bending to pull her into a hug. "I'll clean this up if you get him ready."
"I'll clean it," Ally corrected, waving him off. "Put him in jeans and a T-shirt and his little sneakers. And don't forget to give him his inhaler."
"I never do, sweetheart," Sam said, pulling her towards him for another quick peck on the lips. "Be right back."
"I'll call Paige," she sighed, dumping the food in the trash and carrying the bag out to the trashcan, waving to the neighbors before heading back inside. She called her best friend, the two of them sharing a laugh over Sam's cooking skills, and hung up just as Sam re-entered the kitchen with a fully dressed Levi.
"Ready to go?" Ally asked as she grabbed the keys and Levi's diaper bag, tucking the inhaler Sam handed her into one of the pockets. Sam took the keys from her and handed her Levi as he trotted down the steps to pull the car out of the garage. It only took a moment to strap Levi in and pull herself into the car, and off they went.
The drive over was extremely short, about seven minutes, and they were pulling up to park between Paige's Yukon and the Impala. The hands were already in the barn or in the fields, and Owen was leading Patch up the path to the closest paddock to turn him out for the morning.
"Morning," Paige called out the open window as they mounted the porch steps and entered the kitchen. She grinned at them as they stepped through the screen, wiping her hands on her apron to hug Ally and kiss Levi's cheek. She squeezed Sam in a tight hug and pecked him on the cheek. "Did you kill breakfast again?" she teased.
Sam grinned and tweaked her nose. "First time, thanks so much. It's hard to concentrate with a two-year-old on your hip."
"Tell me about it," Paige laughed, returning to the stove, turning off the burners and putting lids on the pans to keep the food warm.
"Where's Dean?" Ally asked as she set Levi off.
"With the baby," Paige explained.
Paige led them to the playroom. "Look who the cat dragged in," she said to Dean, running her hand through his hair.
"Hey," Dean said with a grin, standing to greet his brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law. He had baby Jace cradled in one arm, wrapped tightly in a blanket and fast asleep with his fist beside his face. "Excited for the wedding?"
A cry from upstairs interrupted them.
"I got it," Dean said, passing Jace along to Paige and bounding up the stairs.
Paige brushed her lips over Jace's forehead and gently rocked him back to sleep, pleased when his eyes drooped shut again. "Sleeping like a dream," she gushed to Ally with a wink. "A very welcome change from Sammy and Brody, who were partial to staying up all night long just to spite me."
"He's so cute," Sam observed, leaning over her to peer into Jace's face.
"Want to hold him?"
"I…uh…sure?" Sam said hesitantly, and before he could really protest, that warm weight was cradled in his arms. He stood there awkwardly for a moment while Paige and Ally disappeared to the kitchen to finish up breakfast. "Hey, little guy," he said awkwardly.
Jace didn't stir, but his fingers curled back into a loose fist as he yawned hugely before snuggling back into his chest. Sam's heart melted, and he knew he was a complete gonner. He dropped into the rocking chair and stared down at his infant nephew, astonished by the pure innocence of his tiny little face. He pushed off the floor and lost all sense of time.
Back in the kitchen, Paige finished setting up plates while Ally poured the milk. Dean appeared in the doorway with a fully awake Brody on his shoulder – the one-year-old had probably spent a half-hour or so laying quietly by himself like usual. He buckled the baby into his high chair and pulled it closer to the table. "He's grumpy today, honey," he warned. "I'm going to go get Owen."
Sure enough, Sammy appeared with fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "Hold me," he pleaded brokenly, "peez."
Paige waved him over and scooped him up, rubbing his back and rocking him back and forth, allowing Ally to transfer all the food to serving dishes and put them on the table. Sammy was soothed within a few moments, allowing her to put him in his booster seat and buckle him in, lifting Levi into the one beside it.
A general ruckus followed as Jace started crying in the living room. Paige rescued him from Sam and ushered her brother-in-law to the table as Dean literally dragged Owen inside by his elbow, lecturing him on coming inside when it was time to eat breakfast because Patch would be outside all day. Ally was speaking rapidly to Levi in Italian, scolding him for prodding the now-crying Sammy with a fork, while Paige attempted to soothe Jace's fussiness and her upset two-year-old at the exact same time.
"Madness," Paige sighed as Sammy finally got over it and Levi was thoroughly scolded. She dropped into her chair and said a quick prayer for the table before jumping back up to pass the baby to Dean and go around to cut up all her sons' pancakes to bite-sized pieces.
"So how's the new house, Sam?" Dean asked as he settled Jace in one arm, using the other to eat. Brody's high chair was between him and Paige, allowing him to prevent Brody's newest habit of throwing food at people.
"Good," Sam replied as he took Levi's milk away. "Eat first," he reminded his son before turning back to his brother. "We've settled in. Just getting ready for the wedding, now. All my college buddies sent in their RSVPs except for Brady. Ally's dress and my tux just arrived from New York yesterday. We've dotted our i's and crossed our t's, and all that's left is the ceremony."
Ally asked him a question, drawing Sam's attention to her instead of his brother. Dean smiled up at his wife and passed Jace back to Paige as she sat down, kissing his wife on the top of the head and brushing his fingers down her cheek. "How'd you sleep last night?"
"Okay," she replied with a dimpled grin. "I love being able to sleep on my stomach again."
"I'll bet," he agreed with a chuckle. The last few nights she'd taken to burrowing into the pillow while lying flat on her stomach, all but kicking him off his side of the bed. Jace had been super-fussy once or twice, but for the most part he'd been an angel. Not that sleep was all that abundant, with three other energetic kids to look after.
"Rachel offered to babysit today so that we can go into town to finalize the wedding plans," she said, spearing a strawberry on her fork. "I told her I'd take Jace with us but leave the other three for her and Jared to dote on."
"Sounds good to me," Dean agreed, rubbing her back with his free hand. "Have you heard anything from your dad?"
She nodded. "He's coming into town tomorrow to help finalize plans. Tony's coming, too. Apparently, Noah and Michael are being reassigned to somewhere else."
"By who's order?"
Sam's ears picked up their speech, even as he continued to smile and nod at Ally's list of to-do's for the wedding. He strained to hear what they were saying.
"Corey's, I heard," Paige continued, ignoring the rest of the table altogether. "He's apparently found evidence he wants to check out."
"Where?"
"I'm not sure, Ohio, I think. He's sending the whole team."
Dean finished up the rest of his pancakes. "Any word on her?"
Paige sighed loudly and shook her head. "Nope, none. Not since the sixth. She's either running silent or is MIA… at this point, it's difficult to say. Any word from your dad yet?"
He shook his head, tracing his fingers gently over the slightly raised scars on her back. Aware of Sam's eavesdropping, he leaned in until his lips brushed her ear. "Promise me that no matter what happens, you won't go anywhere alone," he murmured.
"Promise," she murmured back, "so long as you do the same."
Dean's eyes crinkled as he smiled. He jerked his chin in Sam's direction. "He may be an eavesdropping sasquatch," he said softly, "but he's decent backup. I'll be fine."
"I know you will."
Sam was disappointed but didn't show it as he started an argument over flowers with Ally. He didn't really care, he just hated roses.
They reminded him too much of funerals.
July 14, 2006
Thunder Creek, WY
Red Trail Ranch – Elliot's Land
The wedding of Ally Baraldi and Sam Winchester was no small affair. There were seven bridesmaids, six groomsmen, three altar boys, one ring bearer, two flower girls, and enough firepower to wipe out the entire town three times over. Nearly every single attendee was armed in one way or another, be they hunters, federal agents, police officers, or soldiers.
The groom wasn't too happy about the crowd but acknowledged that it was pointless to argue. The father of his bride was one of the richest men in the world after all, and knew quite a few very powerful people. Dotted throughout the crows were body guards and private security, sticking out like sore thumbs in their black suits, ear pieces, and sunglasses.
Elliot's house was packed beyond capacity. The chief of police had borrowed every spare chair in town to compensate for the massive amounts of people. It had taken nearly an hour to set up the chairs in rows that were now fully occupied. The Baraldi and Newbern extended families were so large they spilled over to fill the rest of the groom's side packed only with his father's close friends and his college buddies.
The bride and groom were deliriously happy, this wedding long-awaited for by any count. It was made possible by wedding planner Debbie Newbern, who had stepped in to plan everything so that Ally wouldn't have to. The band was playing Mozart softly on their stage – though with Debbie's involvement was less of a band and more of an orchestra.
Flowers were everywhere, filling the fields with their sweet scents. The arch was decorated with white roses intermixed with hyacinths. Flowers lined the walkways and were arranged in decorative pots at the end of each isle to further border the pathway, mixes of lilies, hyacinths, buttercups, and pink orchids.
Every little last detail had been meticulously planned. When the groomsmen lined up to the right of the archway, the music would stop; trumpets would sound, the crowd would stand, and the fancy event would begin.
The bride, bridesmaids, flower girls and ring bearer waited in the downstairs of Elliot's ranch house. The bride looked stunning in her flowing white dress, loose enough to make her nearly-seven-month baby bump more bearable.
Paige was putting the last touches on Ally's veil, doing her best to keep Ally's beautiful hairstyle intact. "Stop fidgeting," she scolded gently, squeezing her best friend's hand.
Ally grinned. "I'm nervous," she whispered. "Where's Amy? She's supposed to have my bouquet."
The door opened and Amy slipped through, closing the door behind her.
"Why haven't we started yet?" Paige said quietly, as Amy handed Ally her bouquet.
"We're waiting on Zack Warren, one of Sam's groomsmen," Amy explained, smoothing creases out of her light blue dress. She jumped away from the door when it opened again and Dean stepped through.
"Zack just called, he got stuck in traffic. There was an accident out of Cheyenne," said Dean.
"Good," Paige said, motioning him over. His tie was crooked, so she reached up to fix it for him. "Stop fidgeting."
"Well, excuse me," he quipped sarcastically. "I hate monkey suits."
"You look hot in them," said Paige, rolling her eyes.
Dean beamed. "Thanks," he said cheerfully.
Paige just laughed and smacked him on the chest. "Get back out there and wait for Zack," she ordered, shooing him out the door, but not before he could drop a quick kiss on her lips, probably messing up her makeup. Before he could slip away she seized him by the shirtsleeve. "Where's Jace?"
"With Rachel," he explained, squirming out of her grip. "Don't worry, baby, he's fine." With one last grin and wink, he slipped out the door.
Amy shook her head and smiled bemusedly. "What do you do with him?" she wondered, curious.
Puffing her hair out of her eyes, Paige grinned at her sister-in-law. "Keep him in line," she responded, winking. "It's a very difficult task, that. He's a natural at misbehaving."
Paige slipped out the door after her husband, hurrying to the doorway and down the porch steps just as a car pulled up and Zack and who she assumed was his sister jumped out and hurried towards the setup. Dean and Sam both flashed thumbs up as she hurried back up the steps.
She hurried back to the room and threw the door open. "It's time," she said happily as the music started to play, squeezing Ally's hands for comfort as Tony Baraldi appeared in the doorway, tears in his eyes as he held out his arm for his baby girl.
"Emily, Sydney, come on," Paige coaxed, pulling the little girls forward, smiling at the adorable cuteness of their sky blue dresses and fancy hair. The two were complete opposites – Sydney had thick, dark brown hair and hazel eyes like her mother, whereas Emily had white-blonde hair and bright blue eyes like her father, Ally's cousin Jonathan – but held hands, each grasping their little white baskets full of flower petals. "You too, Levi."
Levi didn't look happy one bit, crying out for Ally to hold him.
Paige crouched in front of him. "Come on, Lee, just hold the pillow like we practiced," she whispered as her nephew did just that. She wiped the tears from his face and brushed his dark mop of hair out of his eyes. "After, I'll get you the biggest lollypop I can find, okay?"
"Okay," Levi mumbled, brightening at the mention of sugar.
"Bribing my son with sugar," Ally said drily. "You have sunk low, my friend."
"Hey, he's your kid," Paige retorted as Levi hurried out after the girls. "Don't judge me."
Ally rolled her eyes and grinned, not bothering with a witty remark as she grasped her bouquet tightly in both hands and allowed her dad to tuck her arm into his. She smiled at him through the veil and followed the procession down the steps. Her eyes locked on Sam's, and all of her nerves melted away.
It was a beautiful ceremony, the bride and groom exquisite, the flower girls and ring bearer adorable. When Ally and Sam exchanged their vows and kissed in front of Pastor Jim, the entire gathering broke into applause and stood, cheering their happiness for the new couple. Sam scooped up a hysterically laughing Levi and slipped an arm around his new wife, leading her down the aisle to the Just Married car for their little trip around town before coming to the reception at Paige and Dean's.
Dean hurried over to Paige, Brody and Jace in his arms while Owen trailed in his wake grasping the edge of his suit in one hand and Sammy's in the other. "Ready to go?" he said.
"Yep," Paige replied, hopping into Jared's jeep for the quick ride over to their house to get the rest of the reception details in place. Sam and Ally would be taking their wedding photos at the lake on Elliot's property before heading over to their ranch, allowing them time to set up the dance floor and the food.
The wedding reception was already in full swing by the time the guests of honor arrived, grinning from ear to ear, Sam dragging Ally onto the dance floor for the ceremonial first dance, to be replaced by her father and then her brother, followed by her oodles of cousins and close family friends.
Dean held a champagne glass in one hand and had his other resting on his wife's hip. "They look happy, don't they?" he murmured in her ear as he watched Sam take Ally back and spin her around the dance floor. Ally's stomach was still relatively small, but wouldn't be for long.
"They do," Paige sighed, leaning back against him and sighing in relief. It had been a stressful day, but the wedding had gone off without a hitch and it was time to let loose and have a little fun. She had no idea where Debbie had disappeared too, and as she had Jace that was a bit problematic, but that was okay. The guests were spinning around the makeshift dance floor to the sounds of the local country band, Sam's college buddies intermixing with the rest of the guests, the kids running around with their suit jackets absent.
"It was perfect," he assured her, resting his cheek against her temple. "Though, ours was more perfect." His eyes crinkled when he smiled warmly at her.
Paige's lips quirked into a loving smile. "Good answer, Mr. Winchester," she said teasingly, kissing the cleft of his chin. She backed away from him towards the dance floor, both of his hands grasped in hers as she kicked off her heels. "Come dance with me."
Dean shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it over the back of the nearest chair, took her hands in his, and allowed her to drag him along.
It really was too bad that Noah and Michael had missed all of this.
Thunder Creek, WY
Red Hill Ranch
July 15, 2006 – 12:01 AM
Dean sat on the couch, beer bottle in hand as he absently swirled the liquid. He'd barely had a sip, holding onto it for sentimental reasons. The wedding party was still going outside, their guest rooms packed with Paige's family members' children. They'd been put to bed around ten.
It was late, but he couldn't get his mind to relax. It whirled a million miles a minute inside his head.
The Colt.
It had been a legend, until they'd found it with Daniel Elkins. If it really did kill everything like legend claimed, his dad would try to use it on the demon.
Demons.
There was more and more of them in the world, it seemed. Brad was worried, and rightly so. Something big was going down, not that he would mention that on his brothers' wedding night. Speaking of brother, Sam and Ally had left for their honeymoon in Fiji hours ago. Their flight was leaving from LAX at eleven forty-five.
Except for the fact that upstairs was his newborn baby, three sons, and his wife, all of whom were trapped in this now, same as he was. Sighing, he stood and dropped his bottle into the trash, weaving through the people loitering in the kitchen, some drunk, some not. Two people he'd never seen in his life were making out on the porch steps. He shut off the kitchen lights, trusting Elliot to keep order outside and deal with all the drunken idiots that would come out of this shindig.
The green glow of the clock on the stove read 12:03. He rubbed his eyes and headed upstairs, navigating by memory. He paused in the doorway of his room, surprised to find it already black when Paige had only come up a few minutes ago. The lump under the covers could only be his wife, taking full advantage of the fact that she could now sleep on her stomach.
He crept to the bassinette, where Jace was awake with his arms waving in the darkness. As gently as he could, he lifted his son and cradled him in his arms. The rocking chair Paige had moved to their room creaked slightly when he sat down, holding Jace close as he pushed off with his foot, smiling down at him. "Hey, little man," he whispered, slipping his index finger into the baby's hand. Jace tightly gripped his index finger with surprising strength.
Moonlight filtered through the curtains beside him, the soft glow of the light bathing them both. He stared into his son's deep blue eyes, wondering what color they would be – blue like Paige's, green like his, maybe hazel like Brad or his dad.
He leaned the glider back a few clicks, keeping the rocking motion steady. Jace was still squirming, kicking his arms and legs, head turning to keep Dean's face in the line of sight. He settled Jace on his chest, breathed a deep breath, and closed his eyes while he rocked his son. It was peaceful, even with the baby's incredible heat baking his skin. He rubbed circles on Jace's back, wondering if it would put him out like it had always done for Sammy.
Jace's eyes drooped slowly shut until he went limp. Dean stayed like that, unwilling to move. An hour ticked by and his back started to cramp, so he lowered Jace back to his bassinette and hoped he would sleep for a long time so that he could get a good night's sleep.
Dean stripped to his boxers and climbed into bed, careful not to jostle Paige. He cracked a grin when he eased the covers off of her head – she was on her stomach, one arm curled under her pillow, the other thrown onto his side of the bed. He moved her arm carefully down to her side and settled on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
"You okay?" Paige asked groggily, slipping her hand into his and squeezing gently. Their fingers tingled where they touched, the touch electric as always.
"Can't sleep," he admitted, turning his head to smile at her.
A sudden roar on the roof made them look upward. Startled yells echoed from the wedding after-party outside, the lights a faint glow on the curtains.
"Looks like the storm is finally here," he commented. It was torrential downpour. The smell of it drifted through the open window. "Held off just long enough to keep the wedding dry."
"That's July for you," she yawned, dropping her head back to the pillow. She lifted it again to per over at Jace, only to find him sound asleep. "Heaven," she announced, snuggling into his side. "Two weeks old and he sleeps almost through the night."
Dean hauled her up against him, running hands through her long hair, settling his hands on her back.
"Why is your shirt off?" she mumbled, pressing her cold nose against his warm shoulder.
"Not complaining, I hope," he teased.
"What time is it?"
"Almost two." He glanced at the clock. "Just kidding, two o' nine."
Paige groaned. "Why did you wake me up?" she mumbled, burrowing into his embrace. She'd only put Owen, Sammy, Brody, and Jace to bed about four hours ago, not the greatest nap.
"I didn't mean to." His hands traced feather-light touches up her arms. A sudden flash of lightning lit the room, illuminating the room before it faded.
"Why can't you sleep, Dean?" she wondered, rolling on top of him and stacking her arms under his chin. She rested her chin on her arms and gazed down at him, studying his face. The only sign of exhaustion was the slight tightness around his eyes.
"The storm isn't helping," he said hesitantly.
Paige's eyebrow arched.
"You're not helping much, either," he admitted, resting his hands on her hips, under the fabric, thumbs circling her soft skin.
"Dean," she warned.
Dean exhaled slowly. "We found the Colt," she admitted.
Paige blinked in surprise, staring down at him as her mind kicked into overdrive. "The Colt?" she repeated. He nodded, eyes fixed on hers, waiting for it to click. "As in the Colt, made by Samuel Colt in 1835?"
He nodded solemnly. "I put it in the safe. My dad used it to kill a vampire," he explained. "Daniel Elkins had it this entire time."
She narrowed her eyes. "That son of a bitch," she breathed. "All those years, he lied, right to my dad's face." She looked down at him again, biting her lip. "You're going to use it to kill the Demon."
"Are you mad?" Dean murmured.
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes," Paige whispered, kissing him.
"I was going to tell you, I just got distracted," he explained. "But then Jace came, and we were exhausted, and I just never got around to it. That's it, I swear."
"Nobody's on the witness stand, Dean," she reminded him. "You aren't on trial."
Dean slipped his hands under her shirt to rest them on her back again. "Something big is about to happen," he told her. "I can't feel it. I don't want you in the middle."
"I'm already in the middle, Dean."
Dean's heart jumped in his chest. His mind skipped back to almost losing her, to almost having to bury her, to seeing her pale and lifeless on that hospital bed. Ice rushed to his veins at the very thought as he swallowed past a suddenly dry throat. Their eyes locked, green warring with blue, neither willing to back down.
"And these?" he whispered in response to the challenge in her eyes, fingers tracing the fading, slightly raised scars on her back.
Paige silently traced the patterns of scars decorating his chest and shoulders. "You have them, too," she said sadly. "We're in this together, Dean. Remember? Through thick and thin."
"I remember," said Dean, eyes pained. "I can't…I can't lose you again. I can't."
She smiled.
"You won't."
A baby monitor on her bedside table crackled to life. Paige and Dean turned their heads to look at the row of baby monitors. There were three lined up, the middle one currently showing noise. She dropped her head to his chest and groaned.
"Brody," he guessed, grinning. He squeezed her gently. "I'll get him. Get off me."
"Wait," she whispered against the hollow of his throat. "He might to back to sleep."
The cries faded as Brody slipped back to sleep, leaving them in peaceful silence.
Dean felt her lips curve into a smile against his neck. "You were right," he whispered, yawning.
Paige was already asleep.
Thunder Creek, WY
July 25, 2006
Dean started awake at the familiar buzzing noise. He snatched his phone off the table before it could wake Paige or Jace and held it to his ear.
"What?" he grumbled.
"Hey, Dean. just got a call from dad," Sam said by way of greeting, discounting the fact that it was four in the morning. "He changed his mind. We're going to hunt this thing down with him."
Excitement made his heart pound as he sat up straight in bed. "You serious?"
"Hell, yeah. Dad wants us to meet him in Manning, Colorado."
Manning was only about three hours from here, Dean mentally calculated. They could make it just after sunrise, easily. He glanced at the clock. "Pick you up in ten?"
"Perfect. I'll go tell Ally."
Finally – a chance to go after the thing that had ruined his life, a chance to kill the demon who had taken his mom away. The mere thought had his head spinning with excitement.
Paige sat up beside him, rubbing her eyes. Her heart dropped slightly when she recognized his excited expression and the almost feral light in his eyes.
"We're finally going after it," Dean said as he yanked on clean clothes. "A chance to end this thing once and for all."
She watched silently as he pulled on his boots.
"You'll be okay here alone?" he asked as he laced his boots.
"I'm never alone, Dean," she reminded him, not pushing him away when he decided to kiss her breathless.
"Somebody has to watch their backs," he explained as he shouldered into his leather jacket. "This thing killed my mom, Paige."
"Am I arguing?" she shot back, leaning on her elbows. "Revenge, justice. Believe me, I get it." She pointed at herself. "Hunter, remember?"
Dean relaxed. "Thank you. For understanding,"" he added, hugging her tightly. "This damn thing won't get a crack at you."
She walked him to the garage door.
"I can't come with you," she reminded him, "so be careful. Watch each other's backs out there."
His eyes softened as he hugged her again. "Once a hunter––"
"––always a hunter," she finished for him. She pressed his knife into his hands. "You might need this."
"I wish you could come," he said softly, pausing with his hand on the doorknob.
"No, you don't," she laughed, reaching around to open the door for him. "You'd just worry about me the whole time. Go." She gave him a gentle push. "We'll be here when you get back."
Dean pushed her arms aside and yanked her against him, one hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back to give him better access to her soft mouth. He kissed the breath right out of h er, pulling away when he was lightheaded.
"I love you," he whispered hoarsely, voice gravelly.
"Ditto," Paige whispered, smiling. "You need to leave before you start something we won't have time to finish."
Still, he hesitated, so many things he wanted to say, he just didn't know how. "Paige––"
"We'll be fine," she gently assured him, hand smoothing his cheek. "I won't hold you back, Dean. This is a part of you. Now, go."
He kissed her one last time before leaving, heart heavy with uneasiness. This whole thing was making his senses tingle uncomfortably. He just had a feeling that something was going to happen. His eyes remained fixed on her until the ranch faded into the background.
Dean's mind switched gears as he entered hunting mode, pulling in front of Sam and Ally's. Sam was waiting on the porch. He shoved all thoughts of Paige and the kids aside as Sam kissed Ally goodbye and jogged for the Impala.
He was by definition a soldier.
And to survive, that's what soldiers did.
They forgot, even if it killed them.
Malibu, California
July 26, 2006
Brad Newbern twirled the clear glass ball in his hands, absently staring out the window of his office building to the ocean, eyes fixed on the horizon. The door opened behind him, but he didn't turn around.
"You asked to see me, signore?"
"I did," said Brad, emotionlessly. "Have you determined what I asked?"
"Dean and Sam Winchester left their home in Wyoming, heading in the direction of Ohio, presumably to meet up with frater John Winchester."
"Very good." Brad paused twirling the glass ball and bounced it in his palm. "My daughter is still in Wyoming, I trust."
"Yes, signore."
"Watch her," he ordered, crossing his legs, bouncing his left foot in the air while he thought. "If she leaves, follow her."
"Yes, signore." The man paused, struggling with himself for a moment. "If I may ask, signore, why?"
"It killed my son. It could very well come for my daughter next. I won't let that happen." Brad twirled his chair around to face the young man standing just inside the doorway. "You passed the test. Now prove that you can do the will of the Conclave despite personal reservations."
The man dipped his head, forcing back protests and biting his tongue.
"You spied on Sam Winchester already. The information you have given us over the past year has proven very effective and helpful," he said conversationally, bouncing the glass ball in his palm again. "Spying on Paige won't get you anywhere. When she figures it out––and she will–– tell her the truth."
"Yes, signore."
"If you find Brennan there, you let us know immediately."
"Yes, signore."
"Make the Conclave proud." Brad smiled without humor and tossed the glass ball, watching the young man snatch it midair and cradle it in his palm. "Get out. Give that to my assistant on your way to the door."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Brad reached forward and picked up the phone, holding it to his ear. "I hope you're right about his abilities, Bruce," he said conversationally, crossing his legs at the ankle. "If not, there will be hell to pay. The Domus will not be amused if he fails."
"He won't," Bruce replied. "We have full faith in him."
Brad was skeptical but kept his opinion to himself. "Keep me updated."
"I will."
He hung up the phone and leaned back in the chair, drumming his fingers together. His eyes were drawn to the corner of his desk, to one of his favorite photographs of his precious son and daughter. They were five and seven, sitting in his lap in the pool of Castaway Island, Fiji, giggling and clutching milkshakes. Sadness weighed heavily on his heart.
The Chosen must not fail.
Thunder Creek, WY
July 28, 2006
Paige whistled as she scrubbed the dishes clean, keeping a close eye on her sons playing in the yard. The baby was sleep in his bouncer on the counter, and a good thing, too. The little stinker had kept her up all night crying. He'd been running a slight fever this morning, so she was keeping an especially close eye on him.
"Mooooooooooom!"
"In here," she called as Owen bolted to the kitchen, holding up scraped and bleeding elbow. "Oh my. Come here." She lifted her five-year-old to the counter and snatched the first aid kit from the counter. "Hold still, baby."
"Hurts," Owen whined, fighting back tears and a wobbling lip.
"Okay, hold on, this will sting a little," she warned, dabbing the wound with alcohol. She cleaned it up and taped a bandage over it. "All better."
Owen sniffed and wiped his cheeks as she lowered him back to the ground.
"Baby Jace!" he said cheerfully, pulling himself up onto the counter to gently kiss the baby's head. "Mommy, can I help feed him later?"
"Maybe," Paige said. "Come on, out you go. Go groom Patch or something."
He skipped back out the door, scrape forgotten.
Paige shook her head, smiling faintly. Little boys had amazingly short memories when it was convenient. The phone ringing made her jump. She scooped it up just a second too late, Jace started crying. She bounced the bouncer and made faces at him in an effort to calm him down, pinning the phone between ear and shoulder.
"Winchester residence, Paige speaking," she said hurriedly into the phone.
There was no response.
"Hello?" she said, pulling the phone from her ear to glance at the screen: it was connected to a call. "Hello?" she repeated, forcefully. She was about to hang up when a sudden scream of pain echoed through her ear, making her jump in shock and almost drop the phone.
"STAY AWAY!"
Paige stared at the phone, recognizing Connie's voice. "Connie!" she shouted, horrified, hand gripping the counter, Jace's crying seemingly far away. "CONNIE!"
There was a gunshot and an explosion followed by static on the line.
"Hello?" she repeated shakily.
The line went dead.
Taking a deep breath, Paige put the phone on the cradle and scooped up her crying infant. Dean wasn't here and no one else knew where Connie's house was. There was only one thing to do now.
Salmon Lake, Montana
July 29, 2006
Paige peeled off her jacket, a thin sheen of sweat dampening her brow from the unrelenting Montana mid-summer heat. Her legs were baking in her pants, but it was better than having them be scratched constantly by the brush she was currently hiking through. Shrugging her backpack higher, she griped the straps and pushed the rest of the way up the hill.
Salmon Lake, Montana. Perhaps it was ironic that this was in this area that both Connie family and the Sailor family had been murdered, both times by demons. She was beginning to think of this place as cursed. Throughout childhood she'd driven by Salmon Lake about a hundred million times. Her family owned a cabin on Placid Lake, about twenty minutes up the road depending on how fast one drove. Another thirty minutes up the same road was Seeley Lake, place of the murder of the Sailors.
She topped the rise and sucked in a startled breath. The cabin was there – the same cabin Connie had lived in before the explosion had taken her family. It looked exactly the same… just as Luke had built it, except for the fact that half of it looked like it'd been destroyed by artillery fire.
Something else was wrong, though. She shed her pack in favor of a knife and rifle, leaning on a rock to ascertain the condition of the remaining building. The upstairs looked fine, she saw no signs of movement there or in the trees. She lowered her scope to the bottom floor, to find the windows cracked or shattered, jagged pieces of glass sparkling on the porch. The front door was bowed inward, cracked nearly in half, with part of the doorway ripped away.
Suddenly she wished Dean was here with her. Huffing a frustrated breath, she half-turned to the path behind her. "I know someone is back there," she said softly, voice carrying on the wind.
An amused chuckle filled the silence. A man stepped out of the gloom of the woods, seeming to materialize out of nowhere. Disbelief filled her.
"Cole?" she said, shocked, eyes flying wide. "Cole Clayborne?"
Cole stepped forward, pushing and gloved hand through his white-blonde hair. He was tall, not near as tall as Noah, about six-five, she'd guess, with the same blue eyes. He looked different than she remembered. All his sixteen-year-old baby fat had vanished to be replaced by a handsome, rugged face with just a little boyish charm left over.
"Hey, Paige," he said softly, moving up the path towards her, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.
"How the hell did you find me?"
"I'm good at tracking," he explained, eyes flickering to the ground and back up. "Dad sends me on missions for the Brotherhood all the time. I turned twenty this year, figure he thinks he can trust me now."
Paige's eyes narrowed as she studied him. "What the hell are you doing here?"
His lips curled into a smirk. "What are you doing here?" he volleyed back.
"Stop answering questions with questions."
That irritating smirk didn't fade. She'd forgotten that Cole's expressions made her want to hit him in the face with a shovel. In fact, Cole's very existence made you want to hit him in the face with a shovel. Or run him over with a truck. Or throw him in the Australian outback and let him get eaten alive by dingoes.
He just had that effect on people.
She really wasn't in the mood for this. Hell, anyone other than Cole and she'd be relatively okay. She honestly couldn't fathom how he and his brother could be so completely different. Noah was a guy who was kind and funny and people loved because he generally cared (unless he was busy intimidating the socks off you) but Cole was the guy that everyone hated because he was such an arrogant ass.
"Why are you here? Tell me. Now," she demanded.
Cole sighed, rubbing his hands together. "I'm looking after you," he shrugged.
"I'm perfectly capable of looking out for myself."
His eyes flashed. "You should be home with that baby."
Paige punched him on the arm, hard, and pointed a finger in his face. She hated him for bringing that up, for reminding her of the ache she'd tried desperately to ignore since leaving her one-month-old baby in Rachel's care. "That baby's name is Jace," she snapped. "I didn't ask for you to come here. Leave. I honestly don't even know how you found this place. Few even know about it."
A strange light entered Cole's devilish eyes, so briefly she might have imagined it. "Let's just say I've got a certain connection," he said casually, waving his hand dismissively. "I don't want to be here, either, okay? I personally disagree with working with a part-demon, but hey, she's your partner."
"You're right. She's my partner," she growled, picking up her rifle again to study the bottom floor. Still no movement through the windows. Cole's form didn't move from her peripheral vision. "Why are you still here?"
"I told you, I don't want to be here. But I don't have a choice. I'm here on orders."
"Oh yeah? Who's?" she challenged, not looking at him.
Cole's hand came down hard on the barrel, yanking the rifle half out of her grasp. She glared at him but he didn't release his hold, and he didn't release her gaze, either. "John Newbern's," he growled, eyes flashing again. "Maybe you've heard of him, seeing as he's, you know, your grandfather? Not to mention leader of the Conclave. He ordered me here, and he told me that if anything happened to you, he'd kill me himself."
"Oh really," Paige said flatly, yanking her rifle free and smacking the butt down on his arm, pleased when he jumped back and rubbed his fingers on the offended area. "Why, pray tell, would he send you instead of someone more qualified." Like Michael, Noah, Elliot, Jared, Cameron Shaw, or about a hundred other hunters, she added silently.
"I'm perfectly qualified," said Cole confidently. "I passed my tests with flying colors. The Conclave was impressed."
"Of course they were," she muttered under her breath, turning her back on him. Translation: the Conclave had sent him just in case she found something to do with the Yellow Eyed Demon, so that Cole could report directly back to them. Dean was hunting it with his family right now, and had apparently decided to run silent just like John had. The Conclave wasn't very amused at the moment.
"What was that?"
"Nothing." She dropped her pack behind a tree and switched her rifle for a Glock .22, unsnapping the clasp on her hunting knife just in case. "You comin' or what, flyboy?"
Cole silently followed behind her, eyes raking over the structure. He ignored her for the most part, wishing above all things that Noah had been sent instead of him. Constance Brennan was not one of his favorite people. She was down towards the bottom of the list, along with Satan, other demons, and Michael Jackson (because that dude creeped him out).
"I'm surprised the Conclave hasn't ordered Constance's execution yet," he called to her back, quickening his pace to keep up. He delighted when her shoulders tensed. "You keep her little part-demon secret from them?"
Paige forced her shoulders to relax and took a deep breath, struggling to convince herself that shooting him in the head would only cause more trouble. "They know, dumbass," she said instead, shooting him a scornful glare over her shoulder. "She's in the Brotherhood."
Cole immediately stiffened, his eyes narrowing to slits. "That's a lie."
She shrugged. "Think what you want," she said flatly. "I really don't give a damn."
"What are you doing?" he demanded, incredulous. He watched as she strode up the stairs and straight into the house. He scrambled after her, grabbing her sleeve to slow her down.
Tearing her arm free, she quickly scanned the foyer. There were traces of sulfur on the windowsills and the devils traps cleverly hidden all around the place were destroyed or broken. "There's nothing here, EMF would have picked up activity," she said absently, tossing her EMF monitor at him. She started up the stairs at a jog, following a thin trail of blood drops and glass shards.
"This blood looks fresh," she muttered under her breath, smearing it with her boot. Quickening her pace, she burst into the master bedroom, where Connie and Luke had slept. The room was a mess, obvious signs of a struggle. The furniture was overturned.
Paige hurried over to the bed and fell to her knees, hand reaching to the ledge Luke had built in. she fumbled for a moment before carefully pulling free a two inch tall marble statue of a sleeping round-cheeked baby with a halo over his head. Connie had made it before Brennan was born, and it had protected his nursery. She cradled it in her hand and dropped her Glock on the carpet, searching the ledge until she found the photo album and pulled it down. It thudded to the carpet with a whoosh of dust and she dragged it into the light, flipping through to make sure there was nothing missing. She closed the album with a snap and grabbed her weapon.
Cole peered down at her. "What is that?" he wondered.
"Shut up," she ordered, shoving past him, following the blood drops again. She froze when she realized they stopped outside the doorway to Brennan's nursery. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her sidearm and nudged the door open with her foot.
It was just as she remembered, and the stabbing pain of loss took her by surprise. She furiously blinked away the tears and moved into the nursery to find a puddle of drying blood on the wood floor.
Cole moved past her to crouch beside the puddle of blood. He reached out a hand to seize a knife embedded in the wall. He sucked in a surprised breath when Paige yanked the curtains open, bathing the room in bright light.
There were two things scrawled on the wall in blood, the hand that wrote them shake, suggesting she'd either been mostly unconscious or had to write with her left hand.
"What does that say?" he whispered, shocked.
Paige leaned down and ran her fingers over the words. "YED Salvation," she explained, a puzzled frown tilting her brow. The next was more puzzling. All it said was AZAZ.
Cole cleared his throat. "YED could stand for Yellow Eyed Demon," he said, pointing at it.
No shit, Sherlock, Paige mentally snipped. "Where's Connie?" she wondered, looking around. The knife was Connie's, yes. But it appeared that whoever had attacked her had taken her, and she'd only had time to leave these two brief messages, one of them obviously unfinished, before they blew half her house to bits. But that was it: it was just the house.
Connie was gone.
For how long remained the question.
Cole pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number, holding it up to his ear.
"Who are you calling?" she demanded, taking a step towards him, hand poised to yank it from his grasp.
His blue eyes met hers, startling her with their intensity. Something swirled in them, an emotion she couldn't identify, but if she wanted to get as close as possible it would be desperation. "My brother is in Ohio," he said, the intensity of his tone making his voice shake.
"Noah?" she whispered, glancing to the wall.
"I have to warn him."
Paige ignored the sudden increased beating of her heart. She reached out to rest her hand on the top of Cole's head, ignoring the way he froze in shock under her touch. "Tell him to watch his back," she said softly. "Don't worry, Cole. He's tough. Noah always makes it through."
Cole squeezed his eyes shut. "I hope you're right," he whispered. The trust between them may be nonexistent, but the love they shared for Noah was common ground enough for him. He'd protect her to his death – not because he enjoyed her company, not because he liked her, not because he wanted to, but because his big brother had asked him to.
There was nothing he wouldn't do for his brother.
The FBI office picked up.
"Supervisory Special Agent Noah Clayborne, please," he said matter-of-factly.
His eyes met Paige's, and they shared a slight smile. No matter the Conclave's motive, Noah would do the right thing, and both of them knew that with utmost certainty. As far as he was concerned, Noah was a saint – it stemmed from the classic Little-brother-worships-big-brother syndrome. He trusted Noah to do whatever was necessary, no matter the consequences.
Without even flinching.
Columbus, Ohio
July 29, 2006
Abandoned warehouse
Noah grunted as he was flung across the warehouse like a sack of grain, slamming into the metal wall and sliding down to land in a heap behind a pile of old boxes. "Son of a bitch!" he wheezed, scrambling back to his feet as he desperately tried to get his breath back.
"NOAH!"
"Fine," he called back, praying to God that Michael wouldn't do anything shit stupid like he always did. "Stay there!"
Another yell of pain echoed as the team leader Corey Daniels was flung across the warehouse to hit the wall in precisely the same spot as Noah had, landing in a heap in precisely the same manner. Noah was suddenly very glad he'd had the sense to scramble forward to the boxes.
Corey coughed, brushing dirt out of his eyes as he rolled over and crawled beside Noah. "Ouch," he coughed, trying to get air back into his traumatized lungs.
"This is getting really old, Daniels," Noah growled, chambering a round in his sidearm as he crouched against the boxes for support. "This sonuvabitch isn't going to tell us a goddamn thing."
"I'm aware of that," Daniels snapped, ducking as Michael flew over the boxes to land face-first in the dirt behind them.
"Hey, Mikey," Noah quipped, pulling his partner forward. "I thought I told you not to do anything stupid."
"I was trying to push the damn thing into the Devil's Trap," Michael snapped, shoving his gun back into his holster. Damn thing was bloody useless against this bad boy. Naturally, the damn thing was shooting guns and tossing them into walls, which was just freakin' lovely.
"One of the Demon's cronies, I'd guess," said Noah, peeking around the edge of the box to see the other half of their team pinned and exchanging fire with the demon. The demon in question was a relatively unassuming man with crazy eyes and a mad cackle that had yet to cease. Creepy as hell.
"What about a Mog?" Michael suggested hopefully.
Noah looked at him as if he'd just announced he was John Newbern in disguise. "Do you want to die?" he demanded, exasperated.
"It was just an idea," he defended himself. "It worked last time!"
"With a Somali army, you moron, not a pissed-to-high-hell demon!"
"It can't be pissed to high hell, Noah, he's already out of hell," Michael pointed out.
Noah resisted the urge to punch him. "Focus, Mikey," he growled, snapping his fingers and pointing at the ground. "That was then, this was now."
"I still think a Mog could work."
Daniels glanced back and forth between his two agents. "What's Mog?" he demanded.
"Mogadishu. Military thing," the duo said in unison, not even looking at him.
"You think?" Noah demanded, sighing.
"I think," Michael confirmed, nodding firmly.
"Fine," he grumbled, pulling his sidearm up. "Don't try anything heroic."
Michael peered around the boxes. The demon currently had its back to them, about four feet to the left of the Devils' Trap they'd created on the ceiling of the warehouse as well as in clear paint on the warehouse floor. He looked to Noah and nodded, leaping out from behind cover as he barreled top speed at the demon, tackling it around the waist and shoving it into the Devil's Trap.
Noah leapt out, firing shots to keep the thing pinned. Michael disarmed it and was now trying to move out of the Devil's Trap where the thing couldn't get at him. He was relieved that it had actually WORKED this time. That relief faded to horror while he watched in slow motion as the demon lifted a Glock and pointed it at Michael's head.
He acted on pure instinct, leaping forward.
A shot echoed through the warehouse as Corey yanked the gun from the demon's hand and knocked it out, the demon crumpling to the floor, trapped in the Devil's Trap for good. He spun, grinning for their victory, to find elation replaced by horror. Michael was pale with shock, hands pressing over a blooming red spot through Noah's body armor.
Corey frantically checked the chamber of the sidearm – armor-piercing rounds. He cussed as he ran over to his agents, watching Michael pull Noah into his lap. "Get an EMT here ASAP!" he yelled through his earpiece.
Michael had tears leaking down his face. "Noah, stay with me," he pleaded as Noah's eyes drooped half-shut. He pressed harder on the wound, sickened by the think, warm blood oozing between his fingers to coat his hands.
"'m fine, you idiot," Noah mumbled, hand gripping Michael's wrist. Sirens sounded outside. His eyes were dilated, face screwed up from the pain. "Hurts like a sonuvabitch."
He laughed shakily, swiping tears from his cheeks as the puddle of blood grew larger, pooling around Noah's giant body. "Just don't move."
Noah nodded. A slight gasp escaped, his vision fading.
"NOAH!"
His hand thumped limply to the pavement in the puddle of his own blood.
E/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaand the mystery man has a face!
One or two left! Can't decide! Sorry for the long wait, but I FINALLY got my laptop back! :D
Hope you enjoyed. As always,
REVIEWS=LOVE