A/N: here i am again. thank you all for your great reviews, i am glad you are enjoying this. i think this chapter is a little lighter then the rest. hope it makes you all laugh a little, i know i was cracking myself up at points. :) enjoy.
D: supernatural is in no way mine.
SHADOW STALKER
Chapter 10
"Dean? Hey, Dean. Come on, open your eyes." Sam whispered as he leaned over his brother's trembling form. He had wrapped his own jacket around him, holding him ever closer, willing his own strength into the older man's failing body. His brother's skin was still far too cold, and though he had begun moving again, it was clear that he was still lost in a deep haze. Sam pulled him up, resting Dean's head against his shoulder. He needed to feel him, needed the contact, needed to hold his body while there was still life in it.
Sam fought back tears, the moister of his eyes blurring his vision. He had to be strong, he had to be there for his brother. All his life Dean had protected him, sacrificed everything for him, and prevailed. Now it was Sam's turn, and he would not fail, he would not let his brother be lost, taken into the darkness by shadows.
"Sammy." John spoke softly at his son's side, making Sam jump, he finally looked away from his brother and into his father's eyes. "How is he?" John asked, his voice shaky but still commanding. He was kneeling in front of his sons, removing his own jacket to cover Dean's half frozen body. Dean looked like he had been through hell and back. His skin was deathly cold, and so off color that it made John cringe. He looked dead, his lips still blue, and large black bag were visible under both his eyes. John knew that he needed a hospital immediately, but the chances of them getting to one anytime soon were slim.
He ran his hand over Dean's face, his soft touch seemed almost alien for such a closed off man. He traced the outline left by the shadow, the skin beneath his fingers was frostbitten and scarred. In that moment John felt an intense rage build inside of him. He knew the scars were permanent, leaving a sickening reminders of where that thing had touched his boy, what it had done to him. His perfect soldier looked like nothing more then a broken child cradled in his brother's arms. The feel of his cold skin brought out a renewed anger in the elder Winchester, and his fierce sense of revenge boiled to the surface. 'How dare that monstrosity destroy my son. How dare it touch my family.'
"We don't have much time, we need to move him somewhere safer." John began, quickly checking to see if all of Dean's makeshift bandages were still in place. He knew the wounds needed to be addressed, but now was not the time. They were still out in the open and he knew that while his quick thinking had bought them some time, it still wasn't much. They needed a base, a place to hide out until they could formulate a more complete plan. "Keep him warm."
"Yes, sir." Sam answered, pulling his brother closer, repositioning the jackets and rubbing his arms. "Come on, Dean. Stay with me."
John reached around Sam, searching the pockets of the back pack he still wore, looking for the maps. He pulled them out a few minutes later and began to pour over them, searching for a near by shelter. "Here." John said, pointing to an area of the map. Sam looked over his brothers head to see what his father was referring to.
"What is it?"
"There's a ridge along one of the river, it looks like there may be some caves there."
"How far?"
"About two miles."
"Dad, we can't move Dean that far."
"We can't leave him here either. I don't have time to argue with you, Sam."
"We need to at least check him over first. We could hurt him worse."
"Sam, we don't have that kind of time. That spell isn't going to hold that thing back for very long."
"Yeah, I get that. I'm just saying we should take a minute."
"We don't have a minute. Now, help me get your brother up. That's an order."
"Fine."
Sam shifted Dean slightly in his arms, as his father knelt in front of him, taking some of his brother's weight. Dean moaned softly and shifted a bit, his body trying to fight against the arms around him.
"Get a way from me." He whispered, his words slurred together, almost dying on his lips. "Let me go." He struggled weakly, trying to push Sam and his father away.
"Dean, it's me, it's Sam."
"Get the hell away from me."
"Dean, son, wake up." And as though the sound of John's commanding voice had thrown a switch, Dean's body suddenly stiffened, his eyes slowly opening to mere slits.
"Sammy?"
"Hey, I'm right here." Sam answered softly, looking into his brother's eyes.
"What took you so long?" Dean asked, his quiet voice cracking weakly. It wasn't meant to be an accusation, but the hurt in his voice was all too apparent. And that broke through the thin walls Sam had been hiding behind the entire time. Dean's voice was so weak, so unfamiliar from the one Sam was used to hearing and that crushed what little resolve he had been holding onto.
"Oh god, Dean, I am so sorry. I started looking as soon as I could."
"It's not your brother's fault, Dean. The shadow kept him away."
"Are you hurt? What did it do to you?" Dean asked weakly, trying to examine his brother.
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"Dean, what do you remember?" John cut in, still pulling his oldest son into his arms, motioning for Sam to help. They had to move, now.
"I was looking for my tape, then the wind pushed me over the edge."
"Were you knocked out?"
"Yeah, it was daylight when I woke up."
"All right. When we are safe I'm going to need to check you over."
"Ok." Dean answered groggily, his body slowing losing out to sleep once more.
"No, Dean. You need to stay awake. Your brother and I, we need to move you."
"Ok."
"Ok, Dean, I am going to pull you to your feet, all right?"
"Ok. Wait, wait, wait." Dean began weakly but it was too late, his brother and father had already pulled him up to stand. The moment his right leg hit the ground he screamed out in agony, falling limply into his brother's arms.
"Oh, god." He moaned, barely more then a whispers, as he leaned forward. Sam knew what was coming and he quickly turned his brother and lowered him to the ground, just as a bout of pain induced vomiting took over his shaking body.
"I'm sorry." Dean coughed as he leaned his tired body against his brother's chest, his still pale face shining with sweat, pain evident in his eyes.
"It's all right, Dean." John answered as he began to survey his son's knee, alarmed that it had caused him so much pain. He gently prodded around the knee, pushing here and there.
Dean suddenly screamed out again, as his father pressed down around his knee cap. "Stop, please." He whispered, his voice shaky and exhausted. "It's broken."
"I think it's shattered, Dean. You walked all this way on it?"
"Yeah, I had a crutch. But I hit it again when I fell the second time, so who knows." His voice trailed away as he found himself losing his battle with consciousness.
"Fell again? Dean, from where?"
"Up there." Dean pointed lazily, John's vision falling on an area of loose dirt about fifty meters up the mountain.
"Did you hit anything else, Dean?" John asked still looking up the mountain. "Dean?" He turned and looked down at his son, Dean once again lost in unconsciousness. "Damn it. Come on, Sammy, we got a move." John checked the splint once more and then hoisted his son up into a fireman's carry, careful not to hurt his knee. The Winchester men then began their trek though the forest, unaware of the gray eyes watching their every step.
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The shadow made its way through the forest, leaving the Winchesters to their plans, cursing John for stealing back the boys. He could have had them both, he was so close. He knew how to play them, how to make them weak, how to tear at their emotions. He knew how much they cared for one another, and he knew that the youngest would give up life itself for his brother, and he had. But then the father came, chanting that stupid spell, throwing his powers away from the boys.
It wouldn't last for long though, soon he would have his prize, he would have the brothers. He needed them desperately. His strength was failing, dying away. The world had long ago given itself up to its emotions. People hated openly, stole blindly, killed recklessly. The power that he once fed upon was fading away, lost amongst the open violence and fear. He needed feelings to fester, grow stronger with time. He needed to rid humanity of its emotions, to take and hid all that fear and hate, keep it for himself, for his own strength.
He needed to free himself from that god forsaken forest, and those boys were his tickets. Their strength would become his strength, his power. And then, finally he would be able to walk free among the world, instead of imprisoned in a forgotten forest. He wanted the Winchester boys and he would have them. Father or not, nothing would stand in the way of his needs, of his desires. Sam and Dean would be his, or no one's.
The shadow slowly came across its prey, its humble form visible to the creature from miles away, its deceit calling to the shadow like fresh blood. "I see you are still here."
"What!" Joshua turned quickly, lifting a shotgun to the shadow before him. He was disheveled and bruised, his face lined with fear. The shadow smiled, he had told the others not to kill the man, but had by no means told them to leave him alone. "What do you want?"
"I came by to chat."
"Like hell you did."
"True."
"Why don't you just leave me the hell alone."
"And why would I do that? It is not my fault you are here."
"I tried to keep him away, he wouldn't listen. You don't know how he can be."
"Oh, but I do. I would have had them, you know. I almost had them, until he stepped in."
"I told you, do what you want with the boys, but don't tell me about it."
"It is funny, really, that you still think you have a conscience. Still think there is something redeeming in your actions."
"I did what I did to survive."
"That I know, but it still doesn't change the fact that you sent those boys here to die."
"I didn't know that."
"Don't be stupid. You knew they would not survive the trip. Yet still you called them, still you told them, still you excepted their gratitude."
"Shut the hell up."
"John Winchester is ruining all of my plans. His presence here is your fault."
"And what do you want me to do about it?"
"I want you to take care of him."
"I can't kill him."
"Then lead him away, take the boys from him. Without his presence I will have the opportunity to take them."
"How am I supposed to do that."
"You will think of a way, or else you will never leave this forest."
"We had a deal."
"Don't threaten me, I could destroy you with a simple breath. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to make deals with demons."
"Fine, but when you have the boys, you sure as hell better let me out of here."
"Of course."
"And keep John away from me."
"Once I have his boys that will not be a problem." And with that the shadow misted away, leaving Joshua alone once again in the dark forest. He took a deep steadying breath and then began his long hike back to the cars. He was afraid. Afraid of the shadow, but also afraid of John. If he found out, if he ever knew what he had done to his sons, there would be no place on earth he could hide. John would find him, hunt him like an animal, and then John would kill him, take him apart bit by bit.
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John barely stumbled as he carried his oldest son, his mind completely focused on the task at hand. 'I have to find the ridge, I have to keep them safe.' He could deal with the shadow later, right now his first priority was Dean. He was hurt badly, that John knew for sure. He also knew that his sons' limited first aid supplies would do little in the way of helping him. But it was something, and like the spell it would buy them time.
Finally they came upon the ridge, Sam following close by his father's side, keeping an eye on Dean. His brothers had moaned and grumbled slightly, but had thankfully remain unconscious for the entire trip. He knew that the way his father was carrying him had to be painful, but there was no other way. He was just glad Dean seemed to be oblivious to his ailing body.
"Over here, I think this is as good a place as any." Sam called to his father after they had spilt up to cover more ground. John walked slowly over to where his youngest son stood, Dean still draped over his shoulder. Sam was standing at the entrance to a small cave, no more the twelve feet deep, and about ten feet across. It wasn't much, but it was right next to the river and easily defensible. It would have to do.
"It's good, Sam. Here, help me lay your brother down." John said, lowering Dean's feet to the ground. His son moaned in protest as his right foot hit the ground. Sam then grabbed him from behind, holding his dead weight in his arms. And together Sam and John lowered Dean to floor of the cave, being careful not to jostle his injured knee. Sam placed his jacket beneath his brother's head, as he began to tremble and move once more, again fighting his way to consciousness.
"Hey, Dean. Can you hear me?"
"Yes. Shut up, I have a headache."
"Is that anyway to talk to one of your rescuers?"
"Yes, next time rescue faster."
"I was going for dramatic suspense."
"I'll alert the media."
Sam smiled down at his brother, resting a hand on his still trembling shoulder. John let out a long sigh and pulled the first aid kit from Sam's back pack. He was glad for the banter, glad to hear his boys laugh. It truth, it was something he heard far to little. Whenever he was with them he insisted they remain in hunter mode, always looking over their shoulders. He pushed away the fun, the happiness that was once so prevalent in his life. And he knew why. Happiness reminded him of Mary. She was his ray of sunshine for so long, that the darkness of life without her had swallowed up all that John was.
Mary was a guy's girl. She could tell you the score of any football game, as well as the odds. She could banter with the best of them, and even drank one of his buddies under the table. She loved with all her heart and kept a secret with everything she had in her. She cherished every moment, and cried through almost every sappy movie. Yes, to John, Mary was perfect in every way. And so were her sons. They took after her in so many ways, especially Dean. He had a lightness about life, a need to have fun that was so completely Mary that it scared John.
Everything about his life was a reminder of his lost wife, so he pushed it all away, made himself hollow. He forgot who he had once been, and tried to make his boys into soldiers. He knew that it wasn't what Mary would have wanted, but he couldn't stop himself. Everything, even photos were too much for the broken man. He had seen how great life could be, and he had seen the evil that could destroy it. And he fought it. Fought it for everyone out there that still had the good life, fought it for his sons who still had a chance, and fought it for Mary, and for the memories she touched.
John laid the first aid kit down next to Dean and then returned to his son's back pack, going over the other supplies Sam had managed to bring. He pulled out two shotguns, and a pistol as well as a large canister of salt. He then went about securing the cave, as well as collecting some wood and leaves for a fire. After he had salted the entrance and lit a fire he returned to his boys. He ripped off a few more pieces of Dean's flannel shirt and dipped them into the bottle of clean water, before moving back to his oldest son.
"Hey, Dean, how you feeling?"
"Like I fell off a cliff."
"I need you to be serious here, Dean. What hurts?"
"My head, I have a headache. And I broke my right wrist, and right knee."
"Anything else?"
"Just some bruises to my stomach, nothing major."
"All right, I'm gonna clean up your head and wrist first, before I even go near that knee."
"Ok." Dean managed, his voice getting weaker and weaker as he spoke, his eyes slowly slipping closed.
"Hey, hey." John stated, tapping Dean lightly on the cheek. "I'm gonna need you to stay awake. Ok, dude."
"Yeah."
"What do you want me to do?" Sam asked, looking up at his father. His voice was weak, and shaky, and John knew that the boy was still blaming himself.
"Just talk to him, keep him awake."
"Yeah, ok."
John then pulled back the shirt that was covering Dean's head, the tried blood holding the material to his skin. Dean took a sharp breath as his father pulled the bandage away, a thin layer a sweat already beginning to cover his body.
"Of all the times for you to clam up, Sammy." Dean joked breathlessly, as his father cleaned the wound on his head, the antiseptic burning his injured skin.
"Well you told me to shut up."
"I tell you to shut up all the time. I didn't think you'd actually do it."
"I guess there's a first time for everything."
"So, when's the first time going to be for you, Sammy." Dean laughed, raising his eyebrows to his brother. John also stifled a laugh as he continued to work on his son.
"Very funny, jerk."
"Bitch."
"I almost forgot." Sam began as he searched his pockets. "Here." He said, triumphantly holding out the tape for Dean. "I found this for you."
"Thanks. But you know, it wouldn't have been lost if a certain someone hadn't thrown it from the car."
"I said I was sorry, dude. Look, if I knew this would happen. Dean when you didn't come back, I'm so sorry."
"What did I tell you about chick flick moments. Look, unless you managed to turn yourself into a shadowy gust of wind this isn't your fault."
"But you wouldn't have been on the road."
"Stop it, Sam. I'm warning you." Dean said between clenched teeth as John began to reset the bones in his wrist. "You know," he began after taking a few steadying breaths, "this means war."
"What do you mean?"
"You threw my tape out a window. That can't go unpunished."
"Dean, come on."
"No, Sammy. He who fires the first bullet."
"I did not, you were the one who wouldn't turn around."
"I don't believe that was a prank."
"It doesn't matter."
"Oh, baldy, but it does. Besides, I never got you back for gluing me to a beer bottle."
"You said truce."
"For a hundred miles. We are way past that."
"Dean, it's always stupid."
"Oh, Sam. I can smell your fear."
"Shut up."
"What are you so afraid of? You're the one who glued me to a beer bottle."
"Oh yeah, well your the one who put nair in my shampoo, Dean, I thought I had leprosy. And who can forget the day you glued me to the toilet seat."
"Oh my god, I forgot that one. Oh, man, that was the best." Dean laughed, tears in his eyes.
"No it wasn't, Dean. I was twelve years old. It was traumatizing."
But Dean continued to laugh, and Sam could have sworn he heard a chuckle somewhere in the vicinity of his father.
"Oh, dude, stop making me laugh, it hurts."
"Whatever. No more pranks."
"You know I will never agree to something like that."
"Why?"
"Because, Sammy with his ass glued to the toilet is just too good." Dean continued to snicker as his father finished wrapping his wrist, the memory of his brother's plight taking place of his pain.
"Ok, Dean, I'm gonna need to look at that knee now."
"Can't you just put it off till tomorrow or something?"
"Nice try, kiddo. Now, I am going to give you some pills before I take the brace off, I need you to take them all."
"Ok." Dean mumbled taking the pills, knowing that setting his knee was going to be very painful.
"I'm going to give them a few minutes to kick it while I change the bandage on your stomach."
"Sure."
"So, Dad." Sam began a few minutes later, holding onto both his brother's shoulders. John had finished bandaging his stomach and was getting ready to work on the leg, all three Winchester men preparing themselves. "Any ideas about how you're gonna exorcise an entire forest?"
"Actually, yes. I think it will take several steps. First I think we should bless all the water."
"We already have holy water."
"I know that, it's not for us. There are four large rivers that feed this area. If we bless each river, then anything that water touches will be cleaned."
"I guess that's an idea."
"That's the best I got."
"And that will kill the shadow?"
"I'm not sure. That's why I think we should try and trap it and perform an exorcism on it too."
"And if that doesn't work?"
"We pray for a miracle, Sammy."
TBC
i will be very, very busy at work this week. i will post again as soon as i can.