AN: Hmmm...maybe the previous chapter isn't so great if it left so many questions! But good or bad, there is much pain in this one. (Sorry, boys!)
Also, I edited this on my phone instead of the computer, which can lead to problems. So, if you see an error, please let me know!
BitterSweetJoy: Dean's main plan was simply to get the people to the surface, even if they had to fight for it. The gwyllgis allowed it because they were about to do the sacrifice anyway, and it had to be under the moon. And they don't speak English...I don't think I messed up and had them speak or understand it earlier...but I may have. I have an idea that the alpha isn't a great leader...more of an accidental leader, and none of her kids have ever really fought because they've always been trapped. They are completely expecting the humans to just cower, like they would have way back in the alpha's time in the old country. Oh, and Sam wanted Lori to wait until the gwyllgis were most distracted so they'd ignore her. I hope that helps a little! And that the story didn't get too far off the rails. And, yes, Pops and I had a fabulous visit...solved most of the world's problems in fact. LOL
"Holy shit!" Dean stared up. And up. The alpha wasn't just bigger than her progeny. She seemed exponentially larger. The gwyllgis holding her arms backed off hastily. She stood up on her back legs, claws the length of Dean's entire hand extended, jaws wide open. She roared, her unnatural face twisting in fury, and it seemed to shake the ground.
Leslie, who was behind the behemoth, reacted first. She rushed in and slashed it across the right calf. Well, that naturally led to an even louder bellow, and the alpha swung a massive paw in a backswipe that barely caught Leslie but was still enough to send the hunter to the ground. The gwyllgi turned to follow up with a better hit, and Dean darted in to cut the same leg. They needed to get her down lower so they could actually reach vital organs. He wished he could tangle her legs and take her down like the ATAT walkers in The Empire Strikes Back.
But it was no time to be distracted. The alpha swung back at Dean in a strike that would have taken his head off if he hadn't hit the deck. The unnamed cop was pulling Dean out of the way and Greg was stabbing the alpha's foot but they were all too close to her. As all four of them scattered and ran, shots rang out. For a split second, Dean thought Sam had come back, since he knew the sound of that particular shotgun anywhere. But it was Bobby, seated propped against a tree a ways away. He was pissing off and distracting the creature for them, though he should have gone to safety.
Though one good hit from the alpha would easily kill a human, she was slower than the smaller creatures, who were cowering and watching her fight. She didn't have their sleekness, either. If she'd been any kind of fighter, the humans would have been dead, but she lashed out with more instinct and reaction than strategy.
They darted in and out like dogs harrying and bear, focusing mostly on her right leg. But they couldn't keep it up forever. Just as Dean had the thought, the cop ran in without realizing that their opponent was already turning his way. A kick caught him in the torso and sent him flying at least 20 feet. Dean heard bones break when he landed. Then a claw skimmed Leslie's brow damn, that was close and blood poured over her face. She had to back off.
But the next time Dean rushed in, he was able to make a devastating cut across the back of the bitch's knee and she crashed onto all fours. Then something seemed to change, though nothing Dean could tangibly see, and the alpha screamed so loudly the humans all fell to their knees in pain, covering their ears. The smaller gwyllgis fled as if in fear. Bobby, the farthest away, recovered first, and his next shot took out one of the alpha's eyes. Dean was barely able to pull Leslie out of the reach of the flailing claws as the gwyllgi lashed out in blind fury and pain. Dean caught sight of the teenager – Darren – behind the crazed monster and had an idea.
There was a time to be nice and gentle, but this wasn't it. Dean shoved Leslie at Greg. "You and Darren get her and your guy out of here."
Bobby called, "I'm out of ammo."
"Take him too." Dean set his face. It was time to finish this. He was bleeding like a stuck pig from his arm and his calf and his hip, so if this took much longer, he wasn't going to be able to do it. "Wait a while before sending in emergency services. And don't come back to fight."
Greg and Leslie both looked like they were going to argue, then the latter staggered where she stood. Greg pushed his gun into Dean's hand – the gun with two bullets left. "Fire twice when it's safe," he said.
Dean nodded and tucked the gun away. Leslie slapped the Tibetan skull knife into his hand next. "I didn't use it yet, so it's still covered in that plant juice. You kill that bitch."
"Yes, ma'am."
The alpha lifted her bloody face, any trace of intelligence buried beneath savagery. She'd cued in on their voices. "Go now!" yelled Dean, running away from the rest. He continued to yell and annoy the gwyllgi, quickly learning that she could still see perfectly out of her left eye. As Dean distracted the alpha and took a hit that nearly bent his knee sideways ow, dammit, Darren and Greg carried away the stricken cop I wish I remembered his name and Leslie somehow helped Matt basically carry Bobby away. (She was one tough woman!)
Dean was tiring and slowing. The alpha wasn't, despite her injuries. Sure, she was hampered by the bad back leg and blind eye, but she was hitting just as fast and hard as before. She caught him with a glancing blow that made him briefly see double. But Dean managed to cut the pad of one front foot deeply enough that great drops of nearly black blood splashed over his arms and chest. As before, the pain made her go crazy. She actually hit the paw against a tree a few times, as if she could knock the pain off.
Dean took the opening and did something that his brother might have called "crazy" or "reckless" but that Dean preferred to consider daring or simply necessary. He ran forward from the alpha's blind side and jumped right onto the back of her neck. He had one shot at this and if he failed, he was gwyllgi kibble. He raised Leslie's blade and brought it down as hard as he could at the base of the gwyllgi's skull with his one good hand, putting all he had into it to pierce her brain.
It wasn't hard enough.
WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER
Sam ran with all the speed his long legs could generate. The moon had come out, so at least he could see. There wasn't a rowan tree any more, of course, but that shouldn't be necessary. Any tree should be able to anchor the spell. And he might not be descendant from the original groups that came together to protect their people, but he thought his blood should be able to do it, especially if the others actually managed to find and kill the alpha.
He had to do this, but it physically hurt to run away from Dean right after getting him back. To leave behind the fight to the walking wounded, the prisoners. But this was his role this time. He sent a quick prayer that Lori had been able to complete her parts and was safe.
Sam was running so fast he actually skidded to a stop when he came to the edge of the wood. He quickly found a tall red maple. It was big enough to be strong, but it should have another good 50 years of life in it. He jerked up his left sleeve and gritted his teeth. He couldn't carve the symbol clearly in the rough bark and then bleed on it, so he'd have to carve in himself and then press his arm against the tree and say the best words he could think of. He wasn't creating the spell, just renewing it, sort of reminding it of its purpose, and much of magic was about intent. There were too many maybes, but it was the only idea Sam had. It would work. He hoped.
Sam began to cut. He didn't make it deep, but it wasn't pleasant. He had to be careful to get it right, and naturally, it was the most complex of the three symbols. Luckily, Sam had drawn it many times in devil's traps and knew it by heart. Panting lightly, he began the last cut, the second "leg."
For the second time that night, the instincts that John had awakened and helped him hone for so many years saved his life. He felt something running at him and he reversed the small knife and stabbed straight out. The force buried it into the hollow of a charging gwyllgi's throat but couldn't stop its momentum and Sam's right side slammed into the tree he'd chosen, his bleeding left arm trapped between him and the gurgling beast. The knife was a small one, only about three inches long, and the stab wouldn't kill the creature, but he was definitely not happy.
Fetid breath bathed Sam's face as the gwyllgi pushed its chest against his arm and chest, snapping and making horrible gurgling sounds as it fought to bite his face or throat. Its strength was immense, and Sam was doing all he could just to keep the teeth at bay. An elbow caught him just behind the temple, and he let out his own growl of effort as he fought the encroaching teeth and looming darkness.
No. There were people in danger. Including Dean.
Pulling on reserves he didn't know he had, Sam forced the gwyllgi back just enough that he could twist the blade in its throat. The sounds grew a thousand times more horrible and Sam hated it. He didn't want any creature to suffer; it was so much worse than a quick kill. But the pressure increased until he thought his arm might break, or a rib. Claws raked just above his knee, not deep, but enough to add to his hurts. A tooth actually skimmed the top of his ear. Grunting, almost out of air, Sam twisted the knife again and pushed. It slid sideways with a crunching sound, halfway garroting the gwyllgi and finally it fell silent. The body hung in the air, then slid off to the ground.
Sam used the tree to keep him upright, looking for any other attackers. He saw nothing but the bodies of the gwyllgis he'd killed earlier. Gagging a little at the volume of blood – some black, some red – coating his side, Sam breathed deeply. He had to still his shaking hands and finish the character before the rest of it clotted. It couldn't be perfect on the topography of an arm, but he had to get it as close as he could. He wiped the blade off on his jeans and wished for a moment he had a better way to clean it.
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, Pastor Jim used to say. And shit Sam needed to focus. He made the last cut, finishing almost at the crook of his elbow.
"I am renewing the protections on these woods, called Tenebrae," he said aloud. "I am not one of the three peoples who came together so long ago, but I am a protector. My family and I are guardians of this land, protecting the people from supernatural threats. My father," he unexpectedly choked up. "My father gave his life in pursuit of that goal. My br-brother and I continue to be guardians. Please accept my blood and renew the protections." He pressed his forearm firmly against the bark of the proud tree.
Instantly, an unseen force pulled his arm hard against the tree, so he couldn't have pulled it free even if he wanted to. He felt a sucking sensation, like his very energy was being pulled from him. Magic always had a price. He thought if this takes a life for its price, Dean is going to be pissed.
The gwyllgi at his feet -- and how the hell was it still alive?! -- reared up and sank its teeth in Sam's ankle, but there was nothing he could do about it trapped like he was.
Then suddenly, he was free of the tree, and it bore the symbol he'd cut so painfully into his arm. A pulse of energy seemed to spread through the forest and Sam's hanger-on let go and whimpered.
Falling to his hands and knees, Sam half-hearted stabbed his little blade at the monster, and it finally fell still.
Sam stared at the ground, the darkness swimming before his eyes. Before giving in to the blessed unconsciousness, he thought I hope Dean's okay.