Lucky # 13. Angsty! Love it :)

Chapter 13

"Fuck." Dean muttered as he pulled the Impala over to the shoulder once again. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the steering wheel trying to untangle the chaos of emotions roiling within him. "Fuck," he repeated quietly.

How could he just drive away leaving her alone on the side of the road like that? The last thing he'd seen in the rear view was Lyra collapse to her knees. She was a rapidly shrinking image as he'd sped away but he'd seen her bring her hands to her face. She'd been weeping.

"Because she's a manipulative witch." Dean bolstered himself aloud. "She's just using me."

Why was she so upset then? He'd caught wind of her plan. Outed her. So what? They'd fucked each other's brains out. No harm, no foul. Why had he responded so emotionally? Why had she for that matter?

"Because she's a fucking good actress." Dean argued with himself. "Witches. They're all drama and spectacle anyway."

Turning the key, Dean sparked the engine back to life. Argument over. Pulling a hard u-turn he headed back towards her. He couldn't leave her. Not this way.

"Fuck," he whispered.

oo00oo

"Where is Lyra?" Dean asked sitting down at the dining room table across from Sam.

"Having a wee lie down," Jim replied. "She needs her rest."

Feeling a pang of guilt Dean wondered if Jim knew why Lyra was exhausted. If he knew how much Dean had upset her this evening. If he did he didn't seem to harbour any hard feelings towards Dean. Actually he had a silly grin on his face.

"I wanted to show you something, lads." Jim began excitedly.

Dean looked enquiringly at Sam who just shook his head. He had no idea what Jim wanted to show them.

"Sharpening those psychic abilities there, Sammy?" Dean teased as Jim left the room.

"Um," Sam feigning concentration and holding a palm to his forehead. "I'm seeing an angry father getting his shotgun. No wait! It's a .44 Magnum."

"Ha ha." Dean replied as Jim returned lugging a very large, long case. It kind of looked like his electric guitar case but heavier.

"Give us a hand here, lads." Jim raised the case slightly and with Sam and Dean's help got it onto the dinner table. It took up the entire length of the table.

"I've seen this case," remarked Dean remembering the first time he'd kissed Lyra in one of the cabin's bedrooms. "There was a strange blue light coming from it."

"I won't ask you what you were doing in my room, lad." Jim replied.

Sam smirked wondering if Jim did indeed own any handguns.

"But," Jim continued, "what you saw was the Claymore responding to any prescient energy nearby."

"The claymore?" Sam enquired.

Snapping the clasps up, Jim opened the long case. The inside of the case was padded and covered with indigo satin. The blade shone brightly against the deep blue of the lining.

"A highland broadsword," Jim stated. "Made by my ancestors around 1297 as a weapon against the invading English."

Grasping the large hilt of the sword Jim raised it carefully to avoid smashing the dining room light dangling overhead with the four-foot long blade. It looked heavy but Jim handled it with ease.

"Wow." Dean and Sam said simultaneously.

Chuckling Jim said, "I knew you two would appreciate a weapon like this."

Grasping the hilt with both hands Jim struck a stance and slowly made a slice through the air.

"Just like Highlander!" Sam said excitedly.

"Exactly lad!" Jim replied.

"There can be only one." Dean recited.

"Here give it a try," Jim handed the hilt to Dean.

It was fucking heavy. Four feet of metal blade with a hilt of hardwood wrapped in leather. Dean loved the feel of the weapon immediately. It exuded power.

"Let me try," Sam grinned.

Handing the sword off to Sam, Dean asked "Is this what you intend to kill the demon with?"

"Aye, lad."

"You sure it'll work?" Dean couldn't hide his skepticism.

"That sword," Jim pointed out as Sam admired the blade closely in the dining room light. "Was forged by the greatest mystic swordsmith of the Highlands under a full moon on the eve of battle. It was charmed by the most powerful Celtic witch of the time and blessed by the Druids. It was wetted on the blood of many, many English redcoats come to invade our lands and take our property."

"Uh," Sam sounded a bit panicked. "What's it doing?"

"That's what I saw it do!" Dean exclaimed seeing the blade turning blue.

"It senses your psychic energy Sam." Jim stated.

"Is it supposed to vibrate like this?" Sam asked.

"Command it Sam. Don't let it rule you."

The broadsword suddenly flew from Sam's hand. Lyra standing in the hall leading to the bedrooms clad only in pyjama bottoms and a black tank top, hair disheveled from sleep reached her hand upward to catch the hilt. Bringing the long sword down across her body she levelled a look at Jim.

"Can you keep it down out here?" she asked. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

oo00oo

"Can you shoot a crossbow lad?" Jim asked.

"Yes," Dean replied.

They were out in the garage now. A couple of the British guys were strumming guitars quietly in the corner. Dean thought he recognized an old Traffic song 'Can't Find My Way Home'.

"Here," Jim handed Dean a large automatic crossbow. "You can use this tomorrow night."

"Cool," Dean liked the weight of this weapon as well. No guns, he thought. This will be different.

"You don't use ordinary arrows with this though." Pulling a quiver full of arrows out of a cabinet Jim showed him the tip of one. "White crystal point."

"Sweet," Dean replied grazing his fingertip over the sharp point of the arrowhead.

"Kind of like your 12 gauge rock salt," Jim explained. "White crystal fired directly into the heart of a demon won't kill it but it will certainly repel it."

oo00oo

"I can't sleep." Sam stated from the next bed.

"Yeah, me either." Dean agreed.

"Did you talk to Lyra after you got back to the cabin?"

"Nah, not really." Dean admitted.

"She looked pretty pissed off when you got back."

"Yeah. I probably blew this one."

"You should go talk to her now," Sam suggested.

"Nah, she's probably sleeping."

"No," Sam confirmed. "She's not."

Dean gave his brother a quizzical look.

"Don't look at me like that," Sam said chuckling.

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like I'm a freak."

"You've always been a little freaky, Sam. Even before all this ESP shit."

"Yeah well. Don't blame me for trying to help you out. You need the help, man."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked.

"I just mean, sometimes you could use a little guidance in the whole relationship area."

"Okay, Dr. Phil. Thanks for the advice."

"I just think," Sam explained, "that if tonight is the night before something really big and potentially catastrophic happens that you should maybe open up a little, for a change, get things off your chest with Lyra. If that would help."

Dean rolled over to face Sam in the neighbouring bed. Sitting up on one elbow he eyed is brother intently. "You think something catastrophic is going to happen tomorrow night?"

"Well, I don't know for sure. But shit, how often do we face off against a demon Dean?"

Flopping back on his pillow Dean looked exasperatedly at the ceiling. "Hopefully only once every 22 years Sammy."

"You should go talk to her."

"Fuck. Okay! Okay." Dean got out of bed pulling on his jeans he left the room.

Padding down the hallway he knocked very softly on Lyra's bedroom door before opening it a crack. It was dark inside.

"Lyra," he whispered tentatively.

No response. He could hear her soft breathing. He knew she was asleep. What the fuck was Sam on about? Silently he started to shut the door.

"Dean," Lyra's voice was barely a whisper. "What is it?"

Closing his eyes briefly Dean tried to formulate some kind of speech. He entered her room quietly shutting the door behind him. Standing with his back to the door looking in the general direction of her voice Dean started, "I just wanted to talk to you. If you weren't sleeping."

"I'm not sleeping."

"Okay. Right. Well, I just wanted to apologize for upsetting you earlier tonight. I'm sorry if I over-reacted but I was just taken a little aback by the whole witchcraft paramour thing."

This was a fucking lame start, Dean thought despairingly. He wanted to just back out of the room and pretend this had never happened. He wanted to smack Sam.

"I'm sorry too, Dean."

He heard the genuine remorse in her voice. It pained him.

"Will you come sit over here?" Lyra asked.

Dean's eyes had adjusted to the darkness. In the moonlight streaming through the curtain he could just make out the edge of her bed. He sat on the bed. Lyra's arms wrapped around him, she laid her head on his chest. It felt good to hold her.

"I'm sorry," Lyra repeated. "I just want this to be over. To free Katie and have everyone survive. I wish I'd never dragged you and Sam into this."

Dean stroked her neck softly beneath her hair. "Don't say that," he murmured into the top of her head.

Pulling back to face him Dean could see her cheeks wet with tears. "You don't know what we'll be up against tomorrow night," she warned. "You shouldn't be involved in this."

"We're big boys, Lyra. We'll take care of ourselves."

"No, Dean. You have no idea."

"We have some idea, Lyra. We do."

Comprehending, Lyra stopped crying. She sniffed softly. "You had a dream the first night you stayed here. I saw…."

Dean said nothing but continued to stroke her neck. How much had she seen? How much did she know of his thoughts? He felt uncomfortable suddenly but couldn't pull away.

"You were very young when the demon came," Lyra looked into his eyes confirming the truth. "It killed your mother and you saved Sam from the fire."

Then sensing Dean's unease added, "That's all I know. Your dream left a powerful imprint on your mind."

Drawing in a deep breath Dean began to tell her the story of his father. Their family quest for revenge. When he was done, what seemed like days later, he felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Gently caressing Dean's face Lyra pulled him to her kissing him softly and deeply. When they parted she made her promise.

"Dean, if you help me free Katie I swear to you I will help you find and kill the demon that killed your mother. On my life, I swear it."

The moonlight made her blue eyes appear even clearer. Not cold but penetrating. Honest. Dean was touched beyond words.

"Thank you," was all he could manage.

Pulling him into bed with her she wrapped her arms around him. They fell asleep almost immediately.