SUMMARY: Objects of great supernatural existence and design can seem to have a mind of their own. The Colt is no different. It has a consciousness that extends no only to the gun itself but each individual bullet. Even into the shell casings left after a shot taken has some kind of existence. The Colt and final bullet is gone, but Dean clings almost desperately to the shell left over from his single shot that killed the Demon's son. John Winchester said that the Colt was made for a Hunter, like them but on horse back. Could the little life left in the shell casing send Dean and Sam into its place of origin to meet a throwback of those early days of Hunters, where the Moon and the Sun float in the sky side by side, all animals have a human voice and the first thing that Dean lays eyes on is a young woman with eyes the color of fresh blood and looks incredibly familiar.
DISCLAIMER: All characters and plot lines of "Supernatural" belong to their respective creators. Tuscarora and other major land features are existing parts of Nevada and belong to themselves while all characters and lay outs of such places and so on are completely fabricated by yours truly. Several different "spirits" and "gods" are based on Native American legend and creational stories, though they are also completely fictional.
All spirits, gods, individual characters, horses, dogs, Celia Northwind (Red) are © to Mary C. Tripp (that's me). No stealies!
Thanks to everyone for reviewing! I'm glad you guys like the story line, when I have time I can individually respond to the comments but right now thanks to all!
MAJOR PROPS AND THANKS TO MY BETA SIERRA NICOLE! BEST BETA EVER! Once again the character Jamie Freeman is a creation of Sierra Nichole especially for the Like Us universe! No stealies!
DEATH DEATH DEATH! To anyone who DARES use the Wounded Heart brand design it's MINE!
Like Us, But On Horse Back
"Not necessity, not desire - no, the love of power is the demon of men. Let them have everything - health, food, a place to live, entertainment - they are and remain unhappy and low-spirited: for the demon waits and waits and will be satisfied."
-Friedrich Nietzsche
Chapter Thirty Seven: Rescue Me
"Whoever destroys a single life is as guilty as though he had destroyed the entire world; and whoever rescues a single life earns as much merit as though he had rescued the entire world."
-The Talmud
…
"I'm still confused 'bout what's the difference between common and moral law, Sam," Celia panted. Sam groaned, his stride still matching her though his legs itched and were beginning to ache.
"Red, c'mon. I explained it three times," he moaned.
"Moral law's used in court right?"
"Not really." Sam's long legs carried him a stride ahead before he checked himself and eased back to run next to her.
"So it's not real law--"
"I didn't say that."
"Jesus, I give up," Celia groaned and suddenly stopped. Startled, Sam went another few yards before he stopped and turned to look at her. She stood with her head hanging and her hands resting heavily on her hips. Her chest was heaving and she was sweating, what hair that had escaped the bandanna was sticking to her neck and temple.
"You all right?" Sam asked, trying to catch his own breath.
"Yeah, why?"
"Why'd you stop?"
"Two miles," Celia panted and motioned behind Sam. He twisted and blinked, a little startled to find that the Pueblo Inn's parking lot was right behind him.
"That went by fast," he muttered and rubbed a hand across his brow and scrubbed the hair out of his eyes.
"Sometimes that's the way it goes," Celia sighed, stretching her hands above her head and arching her back.
"It was nice," Sam muttered.
"Don't talk about it like it'll never happen again Sam." Celia sniffed and patted his shoulder as she walked passed him toward the stock trailer still hooked up to the Silverado. She glanced around, but it was still early enough in the day that she wasn't too worried about being seen as she hauled open the door and stepped inside. Sam stepped around to stand in the open gap and watched from the pavement as Celia carefully maneuvered around the sedated and nearly comatose shapes of the griffon pride. The animals' sides rising and falling in silent breath. He glanced at the face of the nearest one and went tense.
"Red," Sam breathed. She snapped her head around fast to look at him then follow his eyes toward the griffon.
The animal's larger amber eyes were open, even rolling around a little in place to look at its surroundings.
"It's all right, Sam. That's what they look like when they're sedated. Sometimes their eyes stay open," Celia reassured and maneuvered over to the griffon and rested her hands on its jaw line. The griffon didn't move or change, the eyes didn't even twitch toward her.
Sam relaxed, feeling a little disturbed and queasy at the feeling of his slowing down heartbeat suddenly lurching back into action.
"I'm going to go shower."
She waved him off and continued her work around the animals, dosing the ones over again that needed it. She would have to lay off the drugs once they were closer to their destinations to insure that the animals wouldn't be completely defenseless once they were dumped in the Rockies.
She finished her inspection an hour later and stepped out of the trailer, easing stiffly onto the pavement and swinging the door closed and locking it back into place. She rested with her hands on the trailer door for a few long seconds, fighting down a yawn.
"Miss?"
She jumped, startled by the rough, male voice and the fact that it had snuck up on her. She twisted and glanced over his shoulder to spot the khaki and dark brown of a county sheriff. Probably a deputy. Her eyes flickered over his frame for a split second, drawing in everything she needed to know.
Her eyes tracked the clip in his holstered weapon, the star shaped badge pinned to his chest, the radio on
his shoulder, the name tag that read Jarkowski and the patch on this shirt sleeve, a bell shape with twisted garland of some kind of plant with pink flowers and a brown hawk stretching it's wings under the words Uintah County Sheriff Department.
She swallowed and cursed the overly nosy inn operator and wished that the bruises on her face and throat had dulled in color instead of flushed with it. She plastered on a confused smile and turned to meet the deputy. His concerned blue eyes flashed wide at the damaged flesh of Celia's face, clearly he hadn't been given a good description of what it looked like.
"Yes, officer?" she asked and cocked her head to the side and quirked and eyebrow at him.
"Miss, I'm Deputy Jarkowski. I had a call from Mrs. Marquez, she's very concerned about you," he said, quietly.
"Marquez?" Celia thought for a second. "Oh, the owner. What would she be worried 'bout me for?" Celia let a small laugh slip from her lips. She could see the suspicion deep in his eyes, accompanied by worry.
"Well, Miss--?"
"Kicks. Katie Kicks, officer," Celia returned without hesitation.
"Miss Kicks, you gave her a bit of a fright coming in late last night with your face six different colors."
Well, that was blunt… Celia thought to herself and restrained from lashing out at the officer, he was just
trying to do his job.
"She asked and I told her I was fine, officer. She didn't need to waste any of yer time askin' ya to come out." Celia's nostrils flared but she didn't dare flick her eyes sideways as Dean stiffly approached. His
movements were a little jerky and his breathing shallow. He was still recovering but had welled up enough strength and gumpsion to come to her aid. Celia could see something brewing in his eyes and she fed off it.
She hunched her shoulders and physically shrank in on herself, self consciously. She lifted a hand to touched her bruised temple.
The deputy's eyes flashed dangerously and cast them swiftly to the advancing Winchester.
"Everythin' all right, officer?" Dean asked, dropping his voice a few octaves and mimicking Celia's accent perfectly. Her eyes went to his face, flashing in mild surprise. Dean smiled sadly at her and she returned the sorrowful look. Dean stepped over and very gently draped an arm across her shoulders and pulled her closer. The elder Winchester turned his gaze to the deputy who was glaring at him with hate and suspicion.
"I was talking to the lady, and I would prefer to continue this conversation one on one," the deputy said warningly. He hadn't been given a very good description of the man that was supposedly abusing Celia according to the inn's owner anyway.
"I don't think there's anythin' that Katie cain't say in front of me, right sis?" Dean asked with the same sad smile. Celia leaned closer to Dean's frame and looked at the deputy suddenly like he was a dangerous animal and then up at Dean like he was a god.
"Nope."
"He's your brother?"
"Baby brother. Chris, this is Deputy Sheriff Jarkowski. He got called by the owner, just wanted to make sure everythin' was all right."
"Is everything all right?" Jarkowski asked and cocked his eyebrow up, fixing Dean with a dangerous glare.
Dean cocked his head and let out a soft huff of noise before he turned his attention to Celia.
"Katie, why don't ya go inside and get cleaned up a little before we head out."
"Sure."
Dean dipped his head and gently pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Celia twitched at the pressure of his lips through the fabric of her bandanna to the ridges of her horn. Celia broke away from Dean and hugging herself walked toward the Winchester's room, where no doubtedly Sam was waiting just behind the door.
Dean watched her back until she was through the door then turned his eyes to the slightly fuming deputy and put on a false face of pure pity, rubbing a hand across his jaw. The deputy's face changed, concern washing over his eyes.
"Everything all right, son?"
Dean turned his eyes to the deputy and heaved a deep sigh. "Look, officer, I swear to God that neither me or our other brother would ever hurt Katie…"
"What's going on, son? Are you in some kind of trouble?"
Dean sighed again.
"All ya need to know is what was happenin' wasn't right and we're all gettin' away from it…as fast as we can…" Dean looked at the deputy pleadingly. The deputy heaved a deep sigh, reached into his back pocket and slipped out a business card, scribbled something on the back with a pen from his shirt pocket and handed it to Dean. He scanned the logo and phone number for a crisis line then flipped it over to Jarkowski's personal phone number.
"Ya call me, son, if ya need help."
"Yessir." Dean gave the deputy an appreciative smile before reaching to shake the man's hand. The deputy waited until Dean turned and walked stiffly back toward the room, playing up his aching joints a little bit more to give the impression to the deputy that Celia wasn't the only one hurt, which she wasn't. The deputy watched him retreat before slipping into the office to reassure the tentatively waiting inn manager.
Dean shut the door behind him and slipped the card into his jeans pocket, he couldn't throw it out just yet.
The deputy had been genuinely concerned, even if it was all a lie, and that touched Dean a little.
"That was smooth playin' the abuse card, Winchester," Celia sighed. Dean only shook his head and
stepped over to ease himself down onto his bed. The interaction had drained him.
"We need to get movin'. That didn't make me feel comfortable at all, locals are too well meanin' for my taste," Celia muttered, her eyes still watching as the deputy left without bothering to snoop into the horse trailer, it wouldn't be a pleasant thing if they had to knock out a county official and make a run for it.
Dean grunted. Sam nodded and moved to start packing things back into their duffels. His hair was still damp and sticking to his neck and temples after his shower.
"It's funny that they're there to rescue you when you don't need it but not when you're in deep shit," Sam muttered and his attention turned toward Celia when she started speaking in her cell phone. Sam hadn't even noticed her dialing a number.
"Hey, Marley… yeah it's Red. Listen, we're goin' to be runnin' pretty hard here soon, well be in for the drop off before dark… all right, thanks, Marley."
Sam and Dean met eyes for a second before the elder spoke mumbling into his pillow and comforter.
"Who's Marley?"
"'Nother Hunter I know that's local in Colorado," Celia returned.
"Why are you talking to another Hunter?" Sam asked, tension clear in his voice, he and Dean had trouble with other, unknown Hunters before. They didn't want anymore complications.
"Well, I wasn't really comfortable with dumpin' a pride of griffons into open territory. Especially after bein' torn from their normal diets. I mean, naturally they'll take up eatin' deer and elk and so on but not careful enough and they'll turn into maneaters."
"Right… " Sam muttered, " …like when they relocated wolves into Yellow Stone they were confused and started killing local stock instead of normal prey." He twitched at his own reference to wolves.
"Exactly," Celia said, pointing at him. "Get packed up and meet me at the truck in a few."
She stepped out the door without much more explanation.
The brothers looked at each other and Dean grumbled and pressed his face further into the pillow while Sam moved around him, it only took about ten minuets to get everything together and badger Dean into cleaning up a little and dressing himself. The elder Winchester's fever was gone but the aches left over were playing havoc on him. At least the second round of stitching in his side was staying and some of the swelling had gone down. He still felt like Frankenstein.
The brothers slipped out of their room and threw their gathered gear into the Impala before stepping stiffly over to where Celia had a map spread out over the hood of the Silverado. She must have picked it up on one of the stops for gas through Utah.
The brothers put trained eyes to the colored lines and markings of the Colorado boundaries.
"All right boys, here's where we're goin'." Celia used her teeth to take the cap off a red sharpie pen and started drawing directly on the map, following the highways and roads as she spoke.
"We'll keep followin' the 40 to the 64 and that one through to Rangley. From Rangely 139 down to Loma and follow 6 through Fruita and the Grand Junction. It'll be a little tricky around the National Monument 'cause it's gettin' toward the end of tourist season but it shouldn't be horrible. We can stop over in
Whitewater in the Orchid Mesa, get somethin' to eat, refuel and see where we're at."
The brothers repeated to themselves over what she'd said, following the red line she'd drawn, until they new the destination totally they couldn't make a distinction if there was a better route.
"From there?" Sam asked.
"The 141 to Gateway, then Urvan down through Vancorum and Naturita…keep followin' the 141 into San Miguel county to this little patch of green." Celia touched an isolated looking shape of green on the white of the map. "It's a chunk of the Uncompahgre Plateau and National Forest, one of the only off limits places to hunters and campers in the Colorado forests now. Helps that Marley lives in Norwood and she's not likely to leave it, she's their only full time firefighter paramedic."
"Firefighter, paramedic and a Hunter?" Dean asked and looked at Sam as Celia nodded. "See, I could've done both." Sam rolled his eyes and didn't address the issue. "It's completely isolated?" Dean asked.
"Mountainous, lots of hay brunners…" the brothers looked at her questioningly "…elk and white tail and things of that nature. And it's close enough that Marley has a problem I can haul my ass out there to deal with it…God the average lifespan of these things…I could be dealin' with this problem until I'm in my eighties…if I live that long."
Dean flinched, his mind reflecting sharply on the late night conversation not too long ago about the demon and how it was slowly but surely eating Celia from the inside out.
"Why do you care what happens to them later?" Dean growled, suddenly disturbed. "You've done you're part."
"I'm responsible for 'em, Dean. I got 'em out of my territory but I'm puttin' 'em into someone else's and they're far from dead, until the pride's dead I'm responsible for 'em," Celia said as she circled the small patch of griffon paradise then handed the map to Sam. "Let's get movin'."
"Don't you need this?" Sam asked, folding the map so the red line was visible and the map wasn't a hindrance.
"No, I got a mind like a bear trap, this way ya can drive ahead of me." Celia waved him off and started toward the driver's side of the Silverado. "We're already checked out so lets hit it."
"No breakfast?" Dean grumbled.
"Ya'll take point and pick a place, I'll stop behind ya."
Sam looked at Dean then the brothers looked back at Celia. She had been in control for the majority of the Hunt, her experience over theirs was priority but now she was basically handing them the reins.
"Red, are you all right?" Sam asked, cocking his head. She blinked and tilted her head slightly.
"Yeah, I'm all right…I'm just really tired…" Celia gave them a weak smile before running a hand up, over the fabric of the bandanna tied around her head then into her hair around her ear. "I want to get this done and get back as soon as possible..."
"All right," Sam assured, though he was unsure why she seemed so ready to return to a place that was suddenly thrust into turmoil.
"I'll drive." Dean reached for the Impala keys and Sam immediately closed his hand tightly around them.
"Sorry, dude. I don't trust your swimming vision." Sam shook head and turned to speak to Celia but found that she had already stepped around to climb into the driver's seat of the Silverado.
"C'mon." The younger Winchester nudged his brother toward the Impala before climbing into the driver's seat and revving the engine to life.
Sam maneuvered out of the parking lot, and following the line drawn on the map, pulled onto the highway with the massive white truck and the red stock trailer right behind him.
…
The road rolled out ahead of them like a black river. It was like a homecoming for the Winchesters to get back to cheap motels and highway side diners. They had stayed in places for months at a time before but the eerie feeling of 'home' shrouded Tuscarora and the Wounded Heart Ranch. It made them comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.
It was good to be on a case and good to be on the road again, even if they would eventually just turn around and head back to finish closing the case…then leave Nevada…
Dean's eyes blinked open at the sudden thought.
He was feeling better, his stomach had finally settled with a large helping of greasy sausage, hash browns and scrambled eggs from Maggie's Roadside Diner. He was back in the Impala, listening to his music and while his body ached and throbbed with the slowly healing injuries of the case, he was whole and alive and so was his brother.
And Celia.
Who, in a few more days, wouldn't be in their lives anymore.
Just like hundreds, maybe thousands of other people that slipped into the Winchester's existence just long enough to be saved or schooled then faded back out, by death or otherwise. And Celia was resigned to join the ranks of those before. Being a Hunter, gave her an edge that they might cross again…but Celia was a local Hunter, she didn't leave her territory.
They could start taking more cases around Nevada.
But localized Hunter's were territorial and aggressive. As far he knew Celia didn't seem to mind to have them along or working in her area but other Hunters, and the Southwest seemed to have a number by the way that the Bargest Bar was packed the other night, might not be so open to welcoming the brothers into the area, especially if they had their own families and "day jobs" to protect. The more Hunters there were in one area the more it was like locking more and more dogs into a closet, eventually it would end in a bloody mess.
Or worse, some form of authority gets wind of what's going on and there goes the whole job…which might not be all bad. If the public at large knew about the monsters under their beds, and after they got over the initial panic and started learning from Hunters or calling them in to deal with their problems it was a chance at something totally new and different.
Hunting could be a legit line of work. He and Sam could be 'professionals' instead of 'criminals'.
But that was about as likely as Dean trading the Impala in.
Dean shifted in the passenger seat and watched the rises and falls of the Colorado Rockies in the distance. They continued to skirt the edges of the Colorado Utah boarder, but the dark blue and purple mountains seemed to be visible from all directions.
But he didn't really register the world outside, he was drowning within, his mind suddenly spinning and trying to process reality crashing back into him.
His memory was in broken pieces that didn't seem to fit in a right way, no matter how many times he turned them over in his head, the sharp edges of new memories trying to fit in with old seemed to slice his hands…or the edges of his mind, causing more damage than harm. Was Sam suffering the same thing? Dean knew his brother would have approached him, tried to talk to him about memories forcing their way into place. That was Sam's nature. His little brother hadn't made an attempt yet so it was a relatively good chance that other than the couple of visions Sam wasn't getting the same reaction.
He needed help…help to pull it all together.
Celia was the most likely course to take…but she'd already opted out.
That left the Chieftain. And he sure as Hell didn't want to speak to that damn thing.
But above all the turmoil and distress that was trying to overpower him there was an ugly, black pit digging deeper and deeper into his gut. Pure loneliness trying to eat at him.
The last thing he wanted was for Celia to fade into the dust and desert wind. He had a feeling that the loss would… it would be too hard… and he wasn't going to let it happen.
…
Things were returning to normal. Gas and grab and go junk food for lunch that neither brother found appetizing much less something they could finish willingly. Most of it had been abandoned for a trade of over the counter painkillers. The Winchester's stomachs upset by the pain that was stiffening their joints and bruises and lacerations, especially in Dean's stitched up side, the constant jostling of the Impala, especially through the Grand Junction fiasco had undone all the healing that his sleep the night before had accomplished. He could feel his skin and muscles starting to swell again and his bruises had faded into different colors and were aching again. At least he didn't have any kind of fever or infection setting in.
"Dean."
The elder Winchester's attention snapped to his brother. Sam's eyes were locked on the road ahead. The elder brother sat up and shifted around to see better. He felt Sam beginning to ease the brakes and the Impala slowing down. Dean tensed up, he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and his eyes narrowed at the sight of a large, blue pickup truck parked across the two lane road they had been driving down.
He especially didn't like the looks of the small, blonde woman leaning against the side of the truck with her arms across her chest.
The woman glanced up as they closed in on the last hundred and fifty yards toward her and the truck. She pushed herself off the truck and while the Winchester brothers expected her to approach the Impala, she only pulled open the driver side door and climbed in, starting the truck and pulling off road, directly onto a dirt track along side the pavement, two carved out ruts in the earth.
She waved at them to follow out of the window. The brothers exchanged looks and ground their teeth together, unsure if they should risk the wave.
Dean's cell phone buzzed to life, making both brothers jump. Dean dug around until he found the device and flipped it open.
"Yeah?"
"Follow through the gate then pull over, Dean," Celia's voice said back over the line. "The Impala won't make it up the ridge, y'all ride with me, all right?"
"Sure." Dean snapped his phone shut and turned to Sam to repeat the instruction.
"Must be Marley," Sam muttered and eased the Impala off the road and onto the dirt trail after the blue pickup. They maneuvered through the outer wall of under brush and trees, finding a large rutted out clearing of dirt and rock, plenty of room for the Impala to park and the Silverado to squeeze by without scratching her.
Sam parked and cut the engine, both brothers stepping out and standing back as the Silverado rolled to a stop next to them. Sam jogged around to take the shot gun seat and Dean climbed into the back seat behind Celia. Once the doors were shut the Silverado rolled into motion again.
"Doin' all right, fellas?" Celia asked, keeping her eyes on the rut road a head.
"Yeah," Sam assured. Dean only grunted and met Celia's eyes in the rearview. She cocked an eyebrow at him and Dean faked a smile in return. He knew he didn't fool her for a second but Celia didn't question him further.
Dean was grateful for that, he slumped into the backseat and tried hard not to move or be moved as the Silverado jostled up the dirt track. Dean shut his eyes and concentrated on breathing shallowly for the next forty five minuets as the truck climbed up the rise and fall of the small mountain. He breathed a sigh of relief when the truck finally ground a stop. The climb had been a serious test of the truck's strength, the Silverado was actually parked on a slope, its tires and brakes digging in to stay put.
"All right, everybody out," Celia muttered, climbing out of the cab. Sam and Dean followed a little more slowly. They glanced around at another dug out clearing of dirt. The road had faded off, over grown by
brush and trees.
The blonde dropped out of her blue truck and trotted back, and with her came the smell of deteriorating meat. Dean and Sam both swallowed the urge to vomit and stiffened at her approach.
"Red," the blonde called, lifting a hand before sliding both into the pockets of her jeans. The tee shirt was a print of flowers on pale blue, she didn't look much like a Hunter but the large Bowie knife strapped to her hip told a different tale.
"Hey, Marley." Celia stepped forward and took the blonde's hand, shaking it firmly. "Thank ya again for takin' this on."
"No big deal, Red. It'll give me an excuse to stay close to home and not feel like I'm shaking the job."
Marley gave a small smile before her blue eyes flicked to Dean and Sam, she lifted an eyebrow.
"Marley, this is Sam and Dean Winchester." Celia motioned toward each of them. "Boys, this is Marley Rue."
"Hey fellas."
Hey." Sam reached out and took her hand, but Dean only held onto his side and gave her a half smile before his eyes clouded. Marley looked at him in concern.
"Marley do ya think ya could give Dean there a once over until I get him back to Doc Hallengale?" Celia asked, Dean narrowed his eyes at her but didn't speak against Celia's request.
"Sure, let's get this done first, huh?"
Celia nodded and head back toward the trailer. Sam stepped after her and Dean started to follow.
"Dean, why don't ya give Marley a hand?" Celia said. The elder Winchester cocked his head but nodded and turned back to follow the blonde.
"Guess she'd rather you haul a hundred pounds at a time instead of a thousand." Marley said with a small smile and pulled down the tail gate of her pickup. Dean reeled a little and crinkled his nose. Three large whitetail deer lay dead in the truck bed.
"What's this for?" Dean muttered.
"Wean these things off horses as soon as possible, best to offer 'em something different right off the bat. Grab that set of hooves right there."
Dean wrapped his hands tightly around the fore hooves and legs of the nearest deer while Marley grabbed the hind legs.
He pulled and found that the does weren't nearly as heavy as he expected, on his end it couldn't have been more than fifty or sixty pounds. It hurt bracing against the weight and the pain in his side, but he was grateful for the lighter load instead of having to haul the griffons. Dean grunted through lugging the doe toward the edges of the clearing and dropped it heavily on Marley's command. He dusted off his hands and followed Marley back for the next doe.
Sam and Celia were having a little trouble with the griffons. Celia had slacked off on their dosages so they were definitely more awake than they had been for the last forty eight hours. Their eyes were open and they were twitching around more, even stretching their limbs and wings. Sam and Celia started with the foremost animal, a smaller female. The griffon growled when Sam looped a rope around the hind legs and tightened it. He then tangled his arms and hands into the lariat and waited until Celia stepped around to the fore quarters and dug her hands under the griffon's shoulder, lifting and shoving while Sam pulled.
"You all right up there, Red?" Sam asked, watching as Celia seemed to actually lift the half tone animal.
"Yeah, why?"
"Isn't it heavy?"
"I can lift the truck off the ground if I needed to," Celia grunted and gave the griffon a small shove, enough for Sam to put his weight against the rope and with the momentum pull the griffon off the trail and with a groan and thud into the dirt.
"You can?"
"Yep…I guess sometimes gettin' stuck with a demon has its perks."
Sam didn't respond to that but fell into silence and helped drag the griffon off toward the edge of the clearing then followed back to repeat the process with the next animal.
Dean groaned stiffly as he dropped the last of the three does onto the earth. He braced his hands on his tights and puffed for breath.
"You all right, Dean?" Marley asked.
"Fine," the elder Winchester returned stiffly. Marley's grunt in return made it clear she didn't believe him.
"I can't wait to take a hard look at you," Marley muttered and pulled the Bowie knife free from her hip, she squatted next to the does and methodically sliced open each of their bellies, letting blood flow onto the ground.
Marley wiped her blade off on her jeans and slid it back into place before walking ahead of Dean toward the trailer were Sam and Celia were working on pulling free the fifth adult griffon. One more adult to go and then a kitten.
"Need any help, Red?" Marley asked, walking up the trailer alongside Sam and the red head.
"Sure. Hey Dean, why don't ya get that kitten for me."
"You got it," Dean muttered and stepped over the slack form of the griffon and around the two women to scoop up the griffon kitten. The much smaller animal's eighty pounds was strain for him but he soldiered through and carried the kitten down and out of the trailer as Sam, Celia and Marley started in on the last griffon.
Dean eased the kitten down next to the largest female adult and patted the baby's fur for a second.
The bright yellow eyes of the half-drugged female rolled around to look at him and suddenly her head jerked up and swung toward him, she snarled and snapped her beak at him.
Dean lurched back to avoid being slashed, falling hard onto his butt and scrambling back. The griffon struggled for a second before slumped back to the earth, sides heaving. Dean took a few long seconds to catch his breath and settled his thundering heart.
"That's it, I'm done with these things…" Dean snapped and shoved himself painfully back to his feet and grumbling under his breath stalked toward the truck.
"Dean, you okay?" Sam puffed, hesitating as he helped pull the last griffon over toward the others.
"No," Dean snapped and climbed into the passenger seat, he left the door open but leaned back against the cushion of the seat and shut his eyes, trying to mentally and physically block out the pain.
"Marley?" Celia asked, her voice clearly lined with worry.
The blonde nodded and stepped over toward Dean, his green eyes flicked open, the deadly and ingrained suspicion of medical professionals already glazed in his eyes. Marley may only have been a paramedic but that still qualified as EMS.
"Can you take off your shirt, Dean?" Marley coaxed.
Dean grumbled, shifting up and forward until he was sitting on the edge of the seat like it was exam table in front of Marley. Dean carefully stripped his shirt off and sat up as much as he could without panting.
She face twisted in a sympathetic grimace. "One of these bastards got you, huh?"
"Something like that," Dean growled and straightened his spine more. Marley let out an unhappy noise but advanced to carefully look over the stitched up lacerations and swollen skin.
"Couple of broken ribs?"
"Cracked at worst," Dean lied, his sides throbbing with each inhale.
"Who cleaned you up, Dean?" Marley asked, her hands lightly tracing the lines of stitches.
"Sam and Celia."
"Good, it looks like a good enough job without actually putting staples in it. These are nice but it would be good to open it back up, clean the thing up and put in new sutures." She placed her palm flat against his stomach for a few seconds before pulling it back. "No fever."
"He had one."
Dean and Marley looked up to meet Celia's concerned red eyes.
"It broke last night, been all right since then," She continued. Sam stepped over to hover at her shoulder.
"All right, well, I figure it's good enough to hold until Hallengale gets a crack at it. Penicillin--"
"No," Sam, Celia and Dean all snapped at the same time. Marley's eyebrows cocked up and she looked
between them.
"Something I'm missing?" she asked.
"He's allergic," Celia clarified. "Last thing we need is a round of anaphylactic shock."
"All right…Then go with some extra strength aspirin. It'll kill anything trying to grow and help dull out the pain."
"Just aspirin?" Sam asked.
"You expect more? That ought to do it." Marley shrugged.
"Ah, the miracles of modern medicine," Dean groaned and pulled his shirt back on.
"So long as there are no bad setbacks and plenty of water in his system he should hold until he sees Hallengale. And he's good with this kind of injury, he'll set you right in a second."
"Yeah, I figure," Celia agreed.
"What do we tell him?" Sam asked.
Marley and Celia twisted to look at Sam when he spoke.
"What do ya mean, Sammy?" Celia asked.
Sam looked like he'd been asked an undesirably simple question. "What do we tell him? How Dean got hurt? Hit by a truck?"
Dean grunted and hugged his aching chest.
"We tell him Dean got ripped up a griffon," Celia returned, looking at Sam the same way.
Dean and Sam looked between each other.
"You're kidding right?" Dean grumbled.
"No... " Celia replied, trying to catch what she'd missed between the brothers.
"We can't tell him the truth!" Dean snorted.
"Why not?" Marley flicked her eyes between the brothers.
"Because that would be telling him that Dean was mauled by a griffon," Sam growled.
"He's seen worse." Celia crossed her arms across her chest and seemed to be puffing a little bit.
"Are you insane?" Dean snapped. "We can't go around talking about griffons. People aren't supposed to know about this stuff."
Marley blinked and her eyes flashed between the brothers then to Celia. "Red, don't these guys know about
Tuscarora?"
Celia looked over her shoulder and then back to the wary faces of the brothers.
"Oh shit…ya guys don't have any idea what we're talkin' 'bout…" Celia looked startled and a little unnerved, it seemed like she was beginning to forget that Sam and Dean didn't remember a childhood together with her.
"No. We don't," Dena said flatly.
"Boys." Celia swallowed heavily. "Tuscarora is a Hunter Town."
The brothers blinked at her.
"A what?" Sam asked.
"A Hunter Town, remember I told ya that the three Greers, Nathaniel, Jessop and Elijah started the town two hundred years ago. They were Hunters, come over from the old country and all that shit. They founded the town and the territory, Hell, most of Elko county, for Hunters. Like a sanctuary. Why the Hell ya think that every other person we've met has been an out of the closet Hunter?"
The brothers were still trying to process what she was telling them.
Celia sighed and looked at them sympathetically. "Everyone in Tuscarora, everyone that has ever lived there and everyone that ever will either is, retired, or related to a Hunter. There are no 'civilians' inside Tuscarora boarders, never will be."
Disclaimer y'all!: I am in no way associated with the Uintah Sheriff's Dept. and while all the routes, cities and territories mentioned in this chapter are real places and you can find them on a good road map, Tuscarora is also a real town and as far as I know of is nothing like a describe it and not a Hunter Town or territory…or is it? Anyway, hopefully no readers in Utah, Colorado and especially Nevada will take offense. Thanks!