26

Kya pulled herself from her despair with difficulty and laid Dean's body on the hardwood floor, pushing back his head and prying open his mouth. Tears streamed down her face as she began the first of fifteen compressions, followed by three breaths into his slack mouth while she pinched his nose shut. Her sob rang out against the sound of fire hissing over the dark blood lake as she started the compressions over again, her interlocked arms pushing down on his sternum with all her strength.

"Come on, Dean," she urged through tears. "Come on!"

She bent down again; one, two, three breaths then back up again for more frantic compressions. His body jerked each time her hands came down but she refused to quit. She gritted her teeth in defiance of the situation and resumed breathing her own life into his lungs, desperate for a response.

Four sets into her CPR she began to realize that it was hopeless. His skin had lost all color and his beautiful hazel eyes were sealed shut beneath eyelids that showed no signs of movement. She had to stop herself from screaming again and resumed her sets with a ferocity that startled even her.

She had never been a quitter. Never. She had excelled at everything she did, because she pushed herself to it, believing firmly that how high you went in life was in your own control. She had been told time and again by her father that anything was possible if you tried hard enough for it and believed strongly enough. You had to have faith in yourself and faith was something she couldn't afford to lack right now.

She pounded harder on his chest, angry fire burning in her heart replacing the salty tears that had been streaming down her face. She lost herself in the rhythm of it, fifteen compressions, three breaths, fifteen compressions, three breaths, until her hands and arms began to ache from the insistent use, and still she kept on. Faith. Fire. Passion. Never give up. Never give up.

She stopped suddenly when a choked sound reached her ears, so tuned to the fire raging in her heart that she almost missed it. She opened her eyes to see Dean tilt his head to the side, a gout of blood spewing from his mouth and lungs as he coughed it up with violence.

"Dean!" she cried, pulling him into her arms and tilting his head to the side to allow him to get the remaining blood from his lungs.

His hand clutched the one she had wrapped around his chest to support him weakly and he sucked in lungfuls of air that burned his aching chest. Slowly his beautiful green eyes opened, and she was relieved to see their vivid color, the tiny gold flecks that floated in a sea of jade. They sat for a few minutes in silence while Dean tried to get the feeling back in his limbs and to let his lungs stop screaming at him.

"Took you long enough," he finally managed.

"Yeah," she said thoughtfully, "It sure did."

He nodded and with her help managed to get to his feet, trying to find the strength to stand on his own. His limbs still felt like rubber and they continued to tingle as his heart raced to pump blood back into them. She wrapped one arm around his chest and the other she used to support his arm over her shoulders. She stood firm, holding him up, while he fished for something to say.

"Thanks," he finally said.

"No time for that," she admitted. "Sam and Heather ran off to finish the job. They could be in trouble."

"Sam?" Dean said with a raspy laugh. "In trouble? Never."

Kya rolled her eyes. Yes, good old sarcastic Dean was back and she was surprised to realize just how glad she was for that. A few minutes later and she was able to remove her column of bodily support and he stood on his own. He glanced around at the room that had taken him away from life for a few minutes with distaste. Fire still burned on top of the blood lake but there were no dead corpses to be found. All of them had been obliterated in the inferno her outraged heart had created.

"Remind me to never make you mad," he said, starting for the hallway on shaky legs.

"Dually noted," she commented, following close behind him.

Her hand found his and even in his weakness she was comforted by his strength. The man had just come back from the dead. She was pretty sure he had been close to the mythical white light before being dragged back to reality. Kya was exhausted physically and emotionally, but she couldn't let that slow her down. Her friends were most likely in trouble and she had to keep going. Faith. Fire. Passion. Never give up.

She gripped Dean's hand tightly, afraid that if she let go she would lose him again, this time permanently. Dean seemed to understand her feelings and the grip that he returned was just as strong. They made their way into the darkness of the hallway, stopping only to retrieve a flashlight and shotgun from the bag that Kya still wore on her back. Dean had lost his in the fighting back in the ballroom. He scowled at the thought. One of his favorite guns was in that bag and now he would have to waste the time when they got back to replace it. Damn house.

Their steps were hurried and with each one Dean gained more strength, fueled by the thought of Sam in trouble. His baby brother most likely already thought Dean was dead and that thought upset Dean. He wanted Sammy to know that he hadn't left him, hadn't abandoned him to face the darkness alone. He was still there for his brother, still alive to keep his promise to their father to always keep Sammy safe. If Sam needed him, which he most likely did knowing Sam, then Dean wasn't going to fail him. He had to be there. Had to keep him safe. Had to keep his promise. Had to protect his family, at all costs. Nothing in this house would stop him from fulfilling that goal he thought with clenched teeth as he pulled Kya along behind him.

The shotgun in his hands felt solid and good, more comfortable than anything else in the world, other than Kya's small hand in his own. The thought surprised him but he didn't have time to dwell on it much. The flashlight beam was revealing nothing but more dark hallway and his gut was telling him that time was running out.

27

Sam jerked Heather into the room, having nowhere else to go but on a tumble down the stairs, pulling her to the floor just as the first set of needle sharp quarrels shot into the space they had just been. He pushed her to the floor, sitting up quickly in a crouch as he attempted to shield her body with his own.

They had entered the lair of the Manticore and Sam instantly regretted going this alone. Heather wasn't going to be much help since she wasn't battle hardened and from what Sam knew about this creature he was in a lot of trouble.

The beast pacing back and forth in the center of the room was incredibly frightening and even more ugly. Massive lion paws stalked the ground with a lion's body, a massive tail thick with scales swung back and forth in the air, the end of which looked like a large porcupine had been stuck to it. The needles in that tail quivered anxiously, ready to be shot from it again when the monster felt the need. Its face was the worst. It had the face of a man, painted red instead of the usual flesh colors, and its eyes glowed in the relative darkness with a soft yellow blaze. Its mouth hung open, hungry for flesh, revealing three rows of incredibly sharp teeth on both top and bottom, one row stacked behind the other. Sam thought any dentist who saw this maw would go screaming the other way, no matter how much he was being offered to fix the toothache. The teeth and the eyes made the man's face a horrible parody of life, combined with the bizarre body parts of the animals that created this monstrosity. What should have been the mane of a lion were instead more sharp quills, quivering in the moonlight as they wreathed around its neck to protect what would have been a vulnerable spot. The hide of the creature didn't much look like fur either. It looked tough, almost armor plated. Sam seriously wondered if a cannon would even do any good. What threw him off the most was its sheer size. It wasn't lion sized and certainly not porcupine sized. The thing was more the size of a small horse, making Sam feel very small and pathetic indeed.

Sam struggled to recall everything he had ever read about the supposedly mythical Manticore. He should have known better. If vampires were real, why the hell not a hybrid monstrosity? He shook his head, wondering if a dragon would come next. The Manticore was a flesh eater, he knew that much. It didn't take a textbook to figure that out. The spines in its tail were tipped with poison that would paralyze an opponent within minutes if they hit. And if he remembered correctly he thought he had read some legends where the evil beasts could actually talk intellectually. Which meant they could bore you to death with Algebraic equations before they ate you alive and spit out your bones to make coffee tables with. Sam seriously wished this one would start spouting Shakespeare until he keeled over from death by talking before he had to face those gruesome teeth.

He wracked his brain frantically for a way out, any solution, but all he could come up with was 'don't become dinner'. Great, Sam, that's really a master plan.

He ducked to the floor again as another set of paralyzing spines flew his way, the aim accurate enough to slam into the wooden wall behind him where the spines quivered from the impact. It had almost been his head quivering from the impact. He grabbed Heather's hand and pulled her with him, crawling as fast as he could across the floor on his hands and knees to reach a table. He stood up quickly, shoving it over until it fell on its side and ducked back down, hiding behind the pathetic wooden shield.

He had to do something and fast. This thing wasn't going to play with them for very long. Of all the things to hide in an attic, why the hell couldn't it be Christmas decorations like the rest of the friggin world? Sam curbed his frustrated line of thought but couldn't stop himself from thinking he would rather be dealing with Pinhead.

He jerked back as yet more spines shot into his makeshift wooden shield, the tips piercing through the old wood and glaring at him as if in spite. They seemed to mock him and his pathetic attempt at winning against this.

"Sam!" Heather whispered. "What the hell are we gonna do?"

"When I come up with a plan, I'll be sure to tell you," he said.

"Oh great," she complained. "We're toast."

Sam shook his head. "Hopefully not the edible kind."

The Manticore had lost patience with its game. Sam heard the massive paws pounding against the floor and he grabbed Heather just in time to roll away as it charged the table head first. The table splintered and gave under the tremendous force and the Manticore roared, shaking its spined head in frustration when it found the spot empty. Sam pushed Heather around the room, staying to the walls and low to the ground, ducking behind any available furniture. They took cover behind an old couch, hoping that their flight had not been spotted. Heather swung the backpack from her shoulders, digging through it frantically until she came back up with a flare gun and sawed off shotgun, both already loaded and ready for use.

Sam chose the shotgun, not entirely sure if the flare gun would do anything other than set the whole room on fire and burn them to death before they got eaten. Then the Manticore could just have his dinner extra crispy.

In the back of his mind he knew it was a losing battle. There was no way a shotgun was going to hurt this thing, even if he got lucky. Sam cast one last look at Heather with an apology already written in his eyes for failing her. She tried to pull him back down but it was no use. The youngest Winchester was already on his feet, coming up from behind the couch to swing the shotgun around and put it into firing mode.

"Hey," he called. "You wanted your dinner to go, right?"

The Manticore swung around at his voice, letting loose another wall rattling roar that almost had Sam ducking back behind the couch and wishing fervently for a good bed to hide under. He swallowed his fear and fired the shotgun, the bullet round hitting the beast in the chest, right under the spines coating its neck. He fired again out of desperation as the first bullet fell harmlessly to the floor and the only thing to show for it was the monster stumbling back a few steps and getting even more annoyed. The second bullet did the same, hitting the Manticore in the side and dropping to the floor.

Then the Manticore fired.

Sam let out a yelp as the gun fell from his hands to clatter uselessly on the floor, not that it hadn't been useless to begin with. This thing was invincible and Sam finally realized that at the same time he realized one of the spines was sticking out of his shoulder. Another spine sank into his left thigh as the monstrosity fired again and Sam felt the poison spreading through his veins. He didn't even realize he was falling until he felt himself hit the floor with a dull thud. He could swear he saw the Manticore smile and those awful teeth glinted in the moonlight filtering through the stained glass window as it slowly approached him.

Sam closed his eyes and prayed that he wouldn't feel it.