Sorry for the delay. I really thought it would get posted earlier, but I ended up having to go to the city for the day and things (time-wise, anyway) went downhill from there. I will definitely post the next chapter sometime tomorrow, though (as early as possible). No more long waits, I promise. :-)

Part 10 – Stuart Jones

Sam stood silently, gritting his teeth and trying not to picture his brains being splattered over the forest floor.

For all his experience with guns, Sam didn't think he'd been on this side of one all that frequently. Okay, maybe he had been, but one really couldn't count cops. They usually wanted you alive, so there was no great danger of death. This guy wasn't like that, though. He wanted the Winchester boys dead, one way or another, and there wasn't anything Sam could do about it.

Sam drew in a shallow breath, trying not to jar the gun under his chin. With his luck, Stuart would have an itchy trigger-finger. Best not to find out.

"I'm going to count to three, Dean!" Sam winced as Stuart's voice yelled beside his ear. "If I have to get to three, I'm gonna start shooting!"

Sam's eyes widened. This sucked.

"One!"

Stuart's grip on Sam's hair tightened.

"Two!"

Shit.

The clicking sound of a bullet entering the chamber sounded jarringly loud to Sam. He wanted to call out and tell Dean to run, but no sound came out.

This was how it would end.

"Wait!" Dean's voice cut through Sam's thoughts. He turned his eyes as far as he could to the side where Dean was emerging from the foliage. "I'm here – don't shoot!"

Sam groaned. That was Dean's plan?

Sam could feel Jones start to smile. "Well, that was a smart choice, kid."

The deputy removed the gun from Sam's neck and patted his head before turning the gun on Dean. Sam felt his knees weaken with relief, but stubbornly refused to give into the urge to slide to the ground. It had been close, but it wasn't over yet.

"You caused me quite a bit of trouble," Stuart stated to the elder Winchester.

"The feeling's mutual," Dean assured him.

Dean glanced over at Sam and tried to look reassuring. Sam didn't have to tell him that he failed miserably. The elder Winchester's face was scratched and bruised and he didn't look quite right. Dean's eyes looked slightly glassy and from the way he was blinking, Sam was willing to bet his brother's vision was not at its best. Dean probably had a concussion. As worried as he was for his brother, however, Sam had to admit that they had more immediate problems.

Dean swayed slightly as Jones grabbed his collar. "Watch the jacket!" he protested.

"Don't drag this out, Stu," Susan begged. She had been standing silently beside Dean, but was beginning to look desperate. Sam knew the longer they delayed, the more likely it was that Susan would have second thoughts..

Great. He just had to stop the madman from shooting his brother until Susan changed her mind. No problem.

He watched helplessly as Jones acknowledged Susan's fears. His expression hardened and he raised his gun to Dean's face.

Sam felt light-headed. This wasn't possible. Jones was going to shoot Dean! He tugged frantically at the handcuffs, trying to get loose. He couldn't let this happen!

Jones looked up and smiled at Sam; a chillingly emotionless smile that promised no mercy.

Reality came back into focus with crystalline clarity. Sam took a deep breath and yelled, launching himself at Jones.

Jones looked up, startled, as Sam slammed into him. They fell to the ground. Sam kicked at the deputy, but with his hands secured behind him, he knew it would be a losing battle.

He landed an elbow solidly in Stuart's side before rolling off him. Sam rolled a short distance away, effectively placing himself beyond Stuart's reach. He could only hope that Dean would now be able to take Jones out before the deputy recovered.

"You little punk!" Jones hissed at Sam as he struggled to his knees. He raised his gun once more.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Dean's voice was hard.

Dean had not been idle during Sam's distraction. As Sam tackled the deputy, Dean had grabbed Susan, wresting the gun from her grasp and pulling her in front of him.

Dean wasn't usually the kind of guy to hold hostages, but this was definitely not the time to be picky about such niceties.

"Put the gun down and I won't hurt her," Dean ordered.

"You won't kill her," Jones stated confidently, though his eyes betrayed his worry. "You don't have it in you."

Dean's eyes hardened. "You say that to me when you're threatening to kill us? Man, you have no idea what I have in me to do."

Sam was watching the exchange in silence, but Dean caught a strange look in his brother's eyes.

Something was happening.

The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise. A definite chill came over the grove. Dean had been around the supernatural for too long not to know that something was drawing near.

Taking a gamble, Dean smiled. "He's coming for you, Jones. Frank is coming, and he's not happy to see you."

Jones looked behind Dean where a fog was slowly forming. A shudder ran through his body, but he tried to suppress it.

This was ridiculous. There was nothing to fear in the fog.

A light formed at the centre of the mist. Jones bit back a startled gasp. What was happening?

"He's coming for you," Sam whispered.

Jones glared at Sam, but found his gaze drawn back to the light. It was brighter now.

It was too close. The light was forming something . . . a shape.

Frank.

Jones recoiled in horror. This wasn't possible! Frank Lawrence was dead!

Frank was coming closer. He wasn't walking; he seemed to glide over the uneven ground.

Jones crawled backwards, hoping to get away from the advancing figure. Frank kept coming.

Jones finally found his voice. "Stay back!" he warned the spectre.

When it showed no signs of stopping, Jones raised his gun once more and began to fire madly into the mist.