A/N: Thanks! Knowing folks are still reading is really, really awesome.

Chapter title is from song by Triumph.

27

Fight the Good Fight - Triumph

She was so cold.

Zee came to groggily, resisting the violent shiver that wanted to take over. Pain and nausea dominated her first awareness, then a screaming pain from the weight bearing down on her left shoulder because her arms were tied up overhead.

Don't move. Don't move.

She found herself trussed up like a carcass in a meat locker, suspended from the ceiling by something cold and metal she could feel between her wrists. Her toes barely touched the floor, ankles bound by rope like her wrists. She let her head hang limply as if she were still unconscious, resisting the urge to sneeze as the musty smell of sawdust tickled her nose.

She was so very cold.

It was hard not to shiver, the desire to curl up to conserve body heat overwhelming as the snow-chilled air blew around her in a draft. Voices came from her right, a male voice and a female voice.

"A jawbone blade? Are you sure?"

"Yesssss." Mother hissed, upset. "One that can kill me. You said there would be no weapon that could kill me."

Her agitated footsteps paced back and forth.

"No human weapon." The male voice corrected. The softness of it and the precise enunciation ruled out zombie. Who was that? Or, more relevantly, what was that?

Heavy footsteps walked towards her. Remaining limp and still took effort when every instinct flinched in the presence of danger. Warm fingers twisted through her hair and wrenched her head up.

Don't look. Don't give anything away. She kept her eyes closed and facial muscles relaxed even as her skin wanted to crawl from the eyes looking her over.

"And you're sure he will come for her?"

"Yes. Elias will make sure."

"A child? You expect a mere child to hold sway over a Knight of Hell?"

Her head fell forward limply with a jerk as the hard fingers let go of her hair. She bit down on the inside of her cheek to avoid reacting and tried to focus on the conversation.

"He will come. Elias will bring them."

There was a cool confidence in Mother's voice. Zee tried to think through the fog in her brain. Toby. Not Elias.

Was she sure?

Toby had passed all the usual tests. She had spent the last four days with him 24/7. She was pretty sure he was human.

But human didn't always mean innocent.

No.

She tried to block out that instinctive reaction. She thought she had gotten good enough, disciplined enough, to always see things as they were, but who was to say? She had to cut out the emotion that might be clouding her judgment. Ignore the memory of him sitting by her side, leaning against her for comfort and security. Ignore the way he placed his hand trustingly in hers as part of their now regular deal. Rationally, she had to allow for all possibilities. Rationally, she had to allow for the idea that it could all be an act.

"Dean Winchester." The voice mused. She could feel eyes inspecting her once again. "Intriguing. I am beginning to see why Castiel is so devoted to a mere human."

"He is no mere human." Mother corrected harshly, something like fear in her voice.

"No. Not any longer." The curl of a smile was evident in the speaker's tone. It sent chills down Zee's spine. The next words were directed away from her, towards where Mother was standing.

"He will be a feast for you, my dear. All that power could be yours for the taking, if this child can deliver him to you as you claim."

Zee was dizzy. There was real dizziness, and then there was the complexity unfurling around her. Toby, who might not be Toby-as-she-thought. This creature, whatever he might be. He spoke Castiel's name with a familiarity that could only be described as familial. An angel? How would she know if he was an angel? Castiel was the only angel she had ever met, and he was only half-powered at best. And he seemed human. Human-ish. How did you test for angel-ness? They were supposed to be the good guys. You weren't supposed to have to test for that.

Then there was this other thing—this monster-on-monster cannibalism action. A transfer of powers? It was too horrifying to contemplate. But it made perfect sense. It explained how Mother could do the things she could do; float like a ghost, track like a vampire, teleport like a demon. It meant she got more powerful with every kill.

And a Knight of Hell would be quite the prize.

But how did the angel figure into all this?

Her head was pounding. She had to keep her breathing even, though in all honesty, hyperventilating seemed like a darn good idea. It was enough to remember this was the kind of crap that came with tangling with the Winchesters.

Lighter footsteps moved in her direction. A sharp finger poked her wound, making it bleed again. Pain bloomed in a starry wave of white and Zee swallowed the queasy roll of her stomach, trying not to flinch.

"Elias will come for her."

Good God. The crazy bitch actually sounded…jealous.

"He will bring them with him. He knows the rules."

No, no, no. Surely they would be smarter than that. Surely.

Aw, fuck.

She wanted to pound her head against the ground. It couldn't possibly make it hurt any worse.

That was the thing about best intentions and where they led. It had only taken Mother a glance to size up Dean and Sam, what they would and would not do, and one of the things they would not do, was accept that collateral damage happened. Hell, maybe she should have called Ferdie. At least Ferdie knew the boundaries of the job. Shit happened. You moved on.

"And afterwards…" Mother's light steps walked a full circle around her.

Zee screamed as Mother jabbed her fingers into the hole in her side and ripped off a hunk of flesh.

And ate it.

Fire. Fire and acid, flaring pain streaking out along every nerve, carving into her, etching a trail that was jagged and raw. Teeth were ripping into her meat, even though nothing was touching her. She pulled away, trying to escape the molars that ground down on her flesh, chewing and chewing away at her until she was pulp. Acid carved into her skin when Mother swallowed, her nerves ripping apart cell by cell, and she was lost, drowning in pain and acrid fire. She couldn't take her mind away, couldn't curve in on herself enough. Choking on it, the world spinning with it even when she shut her eyes.

She cringed away futilely, not caring that her violent thrashing was screaming agony. She heaved, but nothing came up. Her throat was parched and dry and hurt when she swallowed. Her stomach swam when she moved. She heaved again without result.

Fingers warm and wet with blood clamped tight around her chin and cheeks as Zee panted. Little gasps of air over the violent tremors that racked her continuously from head to foot. Those small fingers squeezed her cheeks up into her eyes and turned her head so she had to meet those hungry ice blue eyes. Forced her to look at lips and face smeared with her own blood, incongruous streaks of red on Mother's porcelain skin.

"You will be a part of me. And my boy will love me again."

The world was fuzzy when she came to again. She opened her eyelids a crack to see her booted toes still dragging on the sawmill's dusty floor. The lack of consciousness offered some real upsides. For one thing, not feeling. Not feeling right now would be a real plus.

She took her mind somewhere else. Here was bad. What she should do was have a peek around to see if she was under guard. If Mother was still hovering around. She should definitely check to see if there was any give in the bonds tying her, maybe see if the point on the metal hook above was sharp enough she could cut the rope at her wrists. Or try to slip off it. Bit tricky to do it unobtrusively since it was overhead, but that was her only choice.

In a minute. She'd do all that in another minute.

She was so tired. Tired was good too. If she kept her mind on the tired, the deadening fatigue, the numbing cold, the somewhat curious fact she couldn't really feel her feet—keeping her mind on all that would keep it away from thinking about what came next. What Mother had planned for her.

Just think about anything but that.

Was it possible to be conscious in pieces?

No, consciousness was bad.

That little piece she had lost. Like a phantom limb, she felt it, still screaming. Soaking in a vat of acid, slowly being digested, dissolving. Breaking down. Getting absorbed.

Into that. Mother.

She shuddered violently, unable to suppress the reaction. Absorbed into part of that. Everything she hunted. Trapped, unable to escape, screaming and screaming for all of time to come.

Her eyes popped open.

For God's sake, think about something else. Anything else.

More of the floor came into view. There was a little puddle of blood by her feet. Not surprising, not worth mentioning.

Carefully she toed around, examining her surroundings by degrees. She was in a long room lit by silver moonlight streaming in through dusty windows, the far ends lost in shadow. She shivered. It was hideously drafty. Holes and bolts pockmarked the floor where heavy machinery once sat. A crudely constructed cage about five feet by four feet and the height of a child was set to one side. Just outside the cage was a little mountain of candy wrappers and empty soda bottles. Toby always declined soda when it was offered, which she had always found curious.

She moved on in her inventory. No sounds. No Mother.

No angel.

No guards.

Well, duh. She was bait. You didn't set visible guards on a trap.

She craned her head cautiously up, ignoring the world-swimming feeling as she did that, and examined the hook that suspended her by her tied wrists from the ceiling overhead. She wriggled both hands. There wasn't much give, but maybe. Presumably Mother was nearby, because someone had to close the trap that had been baited. But damned if she was going to hang here limply like a worm on a hook and wait around to become zombie chow. It would help not to think too much and just…

She pushed off the floor as hard as she could with the toe of her boot, slipping a little in the slick blood, and gripped the ice cold metal between her wrists at the same time she pulled up. A little swing, a little slide. A little momentum, grab, push, tuck, repeat. She squeezed her eyes shut and just concentrated on gaining purchase on the metal hook where she could, ignoring the sharp jab of pain tearing through her gut and sticky splitting on her side as fresh blood oozed. The only sensation that mattered was her grip overhead; the burning sting of stiff cold muscles asked to move was irrelevant. She could slip off this hook with just one more swing. She gathered enough air and locked her jaw. Just one more.

The shock of the floor hitting her knees went straight up into her teeth. Her shoulder slammed into the wooden floor, kicking up a cloud of dust as she rolled awkwardly, trying to right herself so her hands could reach the rope on her ankles. She had her fingers around the first knot when fingers threaded through her hair and jerked her up by the head into a kneeling position.

"That's enough."

In a panic, she tried to jerk away from Mother's icy touch, the movement too revealing. She was gasping, each breath short and sharp with exertion and pain and fear. The fingers in her hair tugged and she was forced to look up into the zombie queen's powdered face. The life-sized doll had cleaned off the smear of blood around her mouth and redone her lipstick, a shade of pale pink that went beautifully with her porcelain complexion. Those thin lips curved slowly upward into a smile as her ice blue eyes looked off towards the shadowy end of the room.

A squeak of footstep came from the far edge of the room. Zee swore. She hadn't had time to teach Toby to walk quietly. That was the sound he made when he went across flooring—or at least the sound of untrained feet. Small steps, not much weight on them.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

She head butted the crazy zombie queen, right on her pert little nose, feeling a small spurt of satisfaction as she felt it give. She squiggled away awkwardly like a worm, the motion loosening the tight constraints on her ankles before cold hands grasped her by the hair again. A different clump of hair, since the last bunch was lying on the floor like a limp talisman where Mother had cast it aside angrily. A dark ooze of blood trickled from the zombie queen's nose down over a tight, displeased frown before it was wiped away. The hand in her hair tightened painfully, pulling her head up and back until her neck was bared to the arctic air.

The cold edge of a knife rested against her throat.

"Mama, wait!"

Toby.

"Elias."

She could feel Mother's soft purr of satisfaction in that word.

"I've brought you good ones this time, Mama."

Toby?

Zee closed her eyes. She wouldn't believe it. The evidence of her ears, the cool flow of logic, the tight fit of the trap. She wouldn't believe it. She knew Toby. And he was Toby.

Her ears strained, listening for Toby's backup. The brothers had to be out there somewhere. At least, they damned well better be, if Toby was here.

Heavier footsteps followed. One set.

"Let her go." Dean's voice.

"Or what, Demon?" Mother asked silkily. "Your blade is useless here, unless you want your friend to die."

There was a stony-glaring kind of silence.

Zee started to laugh. She was a teeny tiny bit woozy and her laughter sounded insane. Laughing hurt. It was actually more a wheezy kind of crazed cackling, but it hurt anyway. She could feel two pairs of so-not-amused eyes on her.

She opened her eyes to look into Dean Winchester's green ones, standing there, glowering at her again, the First Blade clenched tightly in his right hand, mouth drawn down in a forbidding, what-the-hell-are-you-doing kind of line. Zee knew she was a little loopy from blood loss, but she went on.

"You do hear yourself, right? Demons don't do friends."

Another clot of hair nearly got yanked out again with the next hard tug on her head as the zombie queen tightened her fingers with displeasure at Zee's logic.

"And yet. He's here. And he stays his hand."

Yeah. There was that. Man, he was really bad at being a demon.

The knife dug lightly into her skin. Zee looked a question at Dean. What-are-you-waiting-for? Plan B? Plan C?

Oh, come on. Surely he could teleport behind the witch, knife her, and be done with this. Fifty-fifty odds on who was going to be faster with what knife, but they were hunters. The short straw was a part of the life. Play often enough, it was just a matter of time. She tried to signal him with a blink. Come on. Get on with it.

"Bring me his weapon, Elias."

Damn it.

The sound of Toby's light footsteps padded across the room. Stopped.

"My sweet boy." The zombie queen murmured. "We'll feast well tonight."

We?

As if that single word were a summons, two shadows coalesced, one to either side of Dean. He twisted, sensing their appearance, taking a single step back. He would have gotten away except Toby's hand closed over his and he stopped, held in place by that tentative touch. Zombie hands clamped down hard on Dean's arms, restraining him as Toby took the First Blade from Dean's unresisting hand.

Good God.

"Get the other one." Mother's order was curt.

Sounds of a struggle and a scuffling of feet came from the distance.

"Sam!"

Two more zombie-demons dragged Sam Winchester in from the far end of the room, grasping him firmly by the upper arms. Sam gave Dean a distressed look as one of the zombies sniffed his shoulder hungrily. Sam pulled on that shoulder to no avail.

Dean twisted futilely, trying to get loose.

"I think we'll start our meal with you first, Demon. If you behave, I promise we'll slit your brother's throat cleanly before we start on him. A quick death. Mostly painless. At least, for the dying part, anyway. If you're very good, the same for the girl."

Mother stepped forward with anticipation, dragging Zee along by the hair. Zee hung in her grasp limply, trying to slow her with dead weight, but it made no difference. She had only a brief glimpse of the stony expression on Dean's face as he remained restrained, empty-handed. Toby stayed at his side, holding the ancient weapon by the hilt.

"How are they doing that?" Dean asked, narrow-eyed. "Zombies don't teleport."

"They do if you feed them right." Mother gloated. "A little gift from our friend."

The angel. The angel had caught them a demon so they could absorb its powers.

Zee glanced frantically around, pulling on Mother's tight hold. She didn't sense that eerily odd presence lurking in the shadows, but what was to say she could? He was a bloody frickin' angel.

Dean was watching her carefully. His glance slid all the way around the room before coming back to her. What?

She glared at him. She was not fluent in brother-look-speak. He was awfully collected, all things the boys had a plan, now would be a good time to execute it. Before they were, you know, dinner.

"Elias. Bring me the blade."

Mother beckoned to the kid, holding the First Blade awkwardly, the tip of it dragging on the floor. He hefted it like it was heavy, grabbing it by the leather bound hilt with both hands and hauling it behind him. Mother's smile was pleased and indulgent as Elias-Toby made his way to her across the floor.

Zee only recognized the minute change in grip because she had done it a thousand times. It was a tiny shift in the triceps, fingers curling under, hand-change over, blade up, step and lunge. Toby had seen her do it yesterday and the day before, practicing, repeating the same motion over and over. He had stood off to one side and pretended. Like a kid playing a game. His movements were loose and uncoordinated, without the precision and control needed to be effective, but he had the element of surprise and a running start. Mother bent forward with an oooof as the tip of the First Blade caught her square in the midriff just below the rib cage as Toby switched up his grip and charged in with the old jawbone.

The dull tip met resistance and bounced off harmlessly, not enough force and strength behind it to do any damage.

Zee went sprawling with a splat as Mother let her go, both white hands reaching to seize Toby by his thin shoulders, her beautiful face twisting with rage. With a kind of a flip and a flop, Zee twisted until she was on her knees, facing Mother, and wrapped her awkwardly bound hands around Toby's smaller ones. She jammed the blade forcefully home, using her weight as leverage. Black blood hit her in the face from the wound, foul and sour. The zombie queen shrieked in anger and shock, as sudden sounds of fighting erupted behind them, the boys breaking free of their captors in the moment of surprise.

"Sam!"

A jagged hunting blade sailed through the air from one brother to the other. Sam caught it one handed and drove it into the skull of the zombie on his left. A muted orange glow flashed and the corpse fell heavily to the ground.

Zee shouldered Toby around so he was behind her. She could feel him trembling, rage or fright or both.

Mother started to laugh. High-pitched, jubilant laughter, as the zombie queen slowly straightened. Zee almost let go of the ancient blade in shock as she watched the wound before her slowly start to close, black blood retracting. The high laughter continued, shrill and relieved.

"It's just a knife." Gleeful victory colored Mother's voice. "An ordinary knife."

Mother reached forward. Pale hands rested on Zee's cheeks, tightening in preparation for a quick, removing twist.

She wished there was some way to protect Toby from having to see this.

"Guess again, bitch."

The low growl was right next to her ear. Dean's hand closed over hers on the hilt of the First Blade. As his fingers wrapped all the way around just underneath the guard, a rush of power Zee only grasped the edges of flowed through to the blade from the demon that materialized behind her and Mother screamed. A deep red glow like embers mixed with lightening flashed through the zombie queen's skull and blew out her eyes. Zee let go of the summoning pull of the dark hilt and turned, gathering Toby to her as best she could, tucking his face into her shoulder and turning them both away from the heat and the brilliance and the vortex of fire that erupted where Mother was standing.

Ashes fell quietly on them like snowflakes in the ensuing silence.

Toby quivered in the circle of her arms. Hands came around on her wrists, cutting through the rope around them. As the rope dropped off, she collected Toby to her, one hand on his back, the other gently on his head as he sobbed, the adrenaline draining out of him and leaving nothing but shivering shock behind. His hands were tight around her neck, clinging on for dear life.

"It's over. It's over now. You did good. It's over." She rubbed his back gently as she murmured, the words soft and raspy and a little hoarse, the same ones over and over again. "It's all over."

She lifted her head to meet Dean's steady gaze, across the top of Toby's blond head buried against her shoulder.

What did we just do?

His face was tight with understanding, hard with circumstance, as he looked down at the child in her arms. She took a deep breath and held Toby tighter to her. She shut her eyes against the road ahead of him. The road they had just put him on.

Dean took a step forward, laid a hand on Toby's shoulder. Toby sniffled once, long and hard, tamping down on the tremors that shook his hands, and sniffed again before straightening away. He turned around and looked up at Dean, wiping his nose and eyes ineffectively with the back of his hands and squaring his shoulders.

Dean knelt and met him level, eye-to-eye. He nodded once, catching Toby's eye firmly. Toby's shoulders squared a little more, like he might have done for the LT once upon a time.

Nothing was set in stone yet. There was still time to change things. Still time to get off this path.

There was still time.

Sam padded up next to them solemnly, tucking the jagged inscribed blade in his hand securely away in his jacket. Zee sat wearily down on her calves. Her ankles were still hobbled. She should probably do something about that now that her hands were free. She'd just stay still a minute to catch her breath and wait for things to stop spinning, then she'd get on with it.

She'd get on with it all, in a minute.

God dammit.

She was too stubborn. And Sam was driving too slowly.

He didn't like being in the backseat of the Impala, stuck as a passenger with Toby crowding him anxiously over Zee's still form. He didn't like the way her pulse was thready under his fingertips, coming and going under her ice cold skin. He didn't like the way she had listed then toppled over to one side, eyes rolling up into the back of her head without another word.

Not that he would have done any different.

No. He'd have called out to Sam. Little help.

He'd met Sam's eyes over her inert figure when they both saw the jagged gash in her side, raw and bleeding like a hunk had been torn clean off. Sam had finished cutting the rope at her ankles and taken Toby, or tried to take Toby, at any rate. It didn't work, so they moved on to the next order of business, getting their lies straight.

"Wild animal bite?"

"Rope burns?"

Dean checked her wrists. The rope had gone over her sleeves, fortunately, so the marks were faint.

"Not too bad. We'll get away with it. What's closest?"

He scooped her up as he spoke, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Little Falls, probably."

She was still too cold. He kept his body temperature up to warm her, kept her close against him in the already sweltering warmth of the car as Sam had the heater set at full blast. Her breaths were shallow, coming and going erratically. Sam glanced back anxiously through the rearview mirror, silently asking for a sit-rep. Keep going? Or did they need to turn off and find a clearing with some wood?

Dean returned the look silently.

Keep going. Just keep going.