Hi all…just a heads up, this chapter goes a bit dark as you get a glimpse into the mind of Denton. Felt some details were needed to help you better understand what Sam and Dean will be up against. Hope it isn't too dark for ya! Thanks for reading. Read on!
Chapter 6
Dean chose to stay with Sam, knowing that being together was their only strategy against the vision and its revelation of Sam dying alone. He held his finger up to his lips as he glanced back at Sam. He had no intention of revealing Sam's presence to the self proclaimed killer. He would allow Denton to approach to within hearing distance, and confront the advancing hunter from inside the house. It wasn't an impressive fortress, but its dilapidated shell would offer more cover than the flat field that blanketed the property all around them.
Denton strolled up to the Impala, an overconfident smile swept across his scruffy lips. He rubbed his hand along her side knowing how irritating it would be to Dean.
Dean raised his gun, aimed it directly at the dangerous hunter and hollered, "That's far enough!" His voice was threatening, authoritative, and convincing. When it came to Sam's safety, Dean was dead serious.
The shrewd hunter stopped in his tracks, hoping to create the illusion of apprehension on his part. The first part of his strategy, to confront the boys head on, was going well. It always did whenever he used it. It created confusion, suspicion, and intimidation. It gave the hunted a false sense of being able to control a situation. It was only a matter of time before the evil huntsman would use these three he was creating, to his advantage.
Sam shifted nervously beside his older brother attempting to watch what was taking place outside as well as inside. He glanced frequently around the room, covering their backs while Dean was preoccupied with what was unfolding outside. He couldn't help but wonder if this decrepit house was a place of refuge or a prison. It was still unknown as to whether there was any threat inside, but the threat outside was undeniable. Sam chose to think of it as a refuge.
Dean noticed Sammy's motions and once again grabbed his brother's sleeve to pull him closer and calm him. It was hard to project confidence to Sam when he was so irritated by the hunter's gall and extremely suspicious. What the hell was he up to, coming at them so directly? It was unexpected and Dean didn't like it. In fact, he detested it and the man who initiated it.
"Turn your ass around, get back in your damn truck and get the hell out of here!"
Denton felt a familiar tingle, which had always preceded his most successful hunts, slowly make its way up his spine as he proceeded with his meticulously devised plan. Like a master chessman planning his moves several turns in advance, Denton had carefully calculated this game. The pieces: the protector, the predator, and the prey, were already on the board strategically placed. The match was already in play.
The scheming hunter knew how his opponents would play the game. He'd studied under their mentor and knew their training. He knew their strengths, but he also knew their weaknesses: trust, love, and fear. Trust-John's boys weren't stupid, but they were more trusting than they should be. Their youth and experiences hadn't hardened them enough. It was a hole through which he could worm his way through. Love- John's love for them as well as their love for each other, was one of their greatest weaknesses, something he could easily use against them and to his own advantage. Fear-fear of pain, fear of death, fear of losing a loved one; it causes even the clearest minded, to lose his edge. John had thought he had taught his boys all they needed to be "safe"; he thought he had spent his life time protecting his boys and teaching them to protect themselves, but in the end, the very protection he had offered would lead to their demise the warped hunter mused.
The conniving old hunter knew the protector, a significant piece on the chess board that was not to be ignored. Dean was a hunter, whose past had carved out in him a mighty warrior's heart which had been sadly misguided. The eldest Winchester sibling had been raised by his father with a tolerance for evil, having lived with and loved a "supernatural" as his brother. He was bound, even unto death, to protect "the prey", which he so dearly loved. He was to be pitied, a victim of John's confusion, full of commitment to the very thing he was created to destroy. He'd seen Dean's absolute commitment in his eyes when the vampire had threatened to suck the liquid life out of Sam. Fear, sheer fear. The twisted hunter planned to use Dean's ultimate fears against him, to cause him to lose his edge. He could taste Dean's hidden fear in his voice even now; it was intoxicating. The warped hunter did not believe this young Winchester needed to be a casualty of this "war" evil had initiated with mankind. He had already become a casualty, having been tricked into dedicating his life to defend "the prey". Instead, the protector simply needed to be removed, separated as you will, from the prey, detached, disconnected from the single purpose he had for his existence. Once the protector was made impotent, the hunt would continue, building like a river, increasing in size, gaining strength, surging down hill, gaining power as its smaller tributaries join with it, obliterating everything that dares to be in its path… the prey.
The demented hunter also knew "the prey", the prized piece to check mate on the chessboard. It exists now as a hunter, devastated by the past, lost and confused in the present, and frightened by the future- a brother, bound by his love for his sibling, willing to make the ultimate sacrifice should it be required of him. It is his trust, love, and fear, all present in the very fibers of his being, which will ultimately cause his undoing. "The prey" is a "Supernatural", connected in some inexplicable way to the realms of evil waging war against all of humanity. Just as a rabid animal masquerades as a family pet, trusting and loving, until it turns its host into an abomination, so this prey masquerades as a human being. The infection that courses through its veins? Evil, pure evil. And just like the rabid animal that he/it is, infected with malevolence, ultimately created to exterminate the innocent, the "Non-Supernaturals", it must be hunted down and destroyed. Yes, the prey must to be killed to protect the innocents of this world. The hunter had dedicated his entire life to this mission. But, before it can be destroyed, it must be punished first, suffer for daring to exist, suffer for all the crimes it would have committed had it not been destroyed. It must be made an example of, in order to send a message to the evil dominions that exist in the utter dark places of the universe, that such abominations would not be tolerated. Denton trembled slightly; his hatred was so overwhelmingly intense. The demented hunter reasoned that he had become an expert hunter, albeit self-proclaimed, because he had put to death all of his handicaps: trust, love, and fear - His purpose in a nut shell, to save humanity.
The truth was, Denton lived on the edge of humanity; in fact, he had actually fallen off humanity's plane of existence, unknowingly tumbling into the abyss of the criminally insane. He never noticed he had fallen and his twisted mind was now incapable of reasoning any differently.
The old hunter's thoughts abruptly halted and he entered back into the game. The planning of each move and his opponent's possible responses was truly intriguing, but playing the game offered a thrill beyond reason. And now, it was his move. The goal of this move and the several that would follow? -to establish trust while playing on both fear and love.
He swaggered a few steps forward, extending his hands open and upward in a gesture of peace as he began to spin his web of deceit.
"Aw, C'mon, Dean. You're not still sore about yesterday, are ya?"
Dean answered with a shot fired only inches from his left boot.
"Look man, I'm sorry," the old hunter barked through the scruffy hair on his top lip. "I don't know why I reacted the way I did. I think it was the hunt er somethin. Ya know how it is, ya get in hunt mode and it's just hard to step outta it. I've given it a lot of thought. I owe John that much. Visions aren't always supernatural in nature. Hell, I'm not even mad at John, the old rascal." His features softened a bit and a smile swept across his over tanned face. I probably would'a done the same for one-a my own. I won't harm yer little brother the next time I see him. Ya have my word."
Sam grabbed the corner of Dean's jacket. "Benefit of the doubt?"
Dean muttered an exasperated "pffff, yeah right, Sam. He sure as hell didn't give you the benefit of the doubt last night."
"You gotta admit, the first time you saw me have a vision, didn't it freak you out?"
"That's different, Sam. I'm your brother, and NO, it didn't freak me out. I was worried about you. It never crossed my mind to kill you….. at least not for that, anyways." Dean added with a half smile.
Sam rolled his eyes and returned the half smile.
"Ask him why he's here," Sam suggested sincerely.
Dean hesitated and then complied being moved by Sam's trusting nature and willingness to forgive, but determined that if he didn't like the answer, the discussion was over.
"What are you doing here?" Dean questioned sternly.
"Just checkin to be sure there ain't any nest folks associated with our vampire friend yesterday." He replied taking a step towards the porch, hands still open but more down at his side. "You and I both know they don't usually live alone. Probably a nest somewheres in the local area, don't ya think?"
"Makes sense, Dean." Sam whispered. Maybe he's being on the level. We could use some help hunting down the others. You've seen the list. There's too many to cover by ourselves."
"Hello! We have a much more pressing issue here to deal with, Sammy." Dean rasped between clenched teeth. "Vampires are second to that. Hell, everything is second to that. You know that." Dean hissed.
"How bout you?" Denton called back.
"s' why we're here." Dean responded. He shook his head and cursed himself silently for letting it slip that he wasn't alone and it was no stretch for the old hunter to conclude that Sam was with him.
"Well, then, seems we have something in common once again." Denton smiled at the double meaning his words held. Vampires and Sam. "What do you say we join together and search the area to be sure." The crafty old hunter innocently offered.
Dean muttered under his breath to Sam, "Thanks but no thanks."
"Why don't you check out the places south of town, we'll keep to the north." Dean called back loud enough to be heard his sarcasm driving home the obvious detail that they would be working at opposite ends of the county. He keenly watched every breath taken, move made, and eye motion the old hunter had to offer, waiting to see if he could read his intentions.
Denton shook his head and commented smugly. "As you wish. You're definitely John's boy, suspicious as hell and slow to forgive. Sure hope he's doing better where he is now."
His words met their mark stirring in Dean an impulse to go out and pummel the man. Sam's gentle hand on his shoulder steadied him and he refused to take it up with him.
"Easy," Sam whispered. "He's just trying to get the best of you."
"Guess I'll be on my way." The hunter slyly turned around figuring by now he had his prey in his hand, though fairly certain, the protector was unyielding. He began walking back on the left side of the gravel driveway towards his car with a cocky swagger.
"Not fast enough," muttered Dean ready to move on from this frustrating encounter. He was still suspicious as hell about Denton, but he was more worried about Sam and preventing the vision from becoming reality. He was damn sure he didn't need any distractions or additional problems coming from the now departing hunter. Dean still disliked the man, found him irritating and clearly sensed he was dangerous. He would definitely keep Sam away from him, that was a given.
"That was weird," Sam commented.
"Yeah."
"You think he's on the level?"
"mmm, not sure, but I don't want to find out the hard way. Stay clear of him, okay?"
"Well, at least he's leaving."
"Looks like." Dean replied.
He began to focus back on their situation and the house they were in. "Think we should bother to check out the upstairs and the basement, just to be sure?" Dean questioned all the while keeping an eye on the old hunter as he approached his truck parked just behind the Impalla. Dean was a surprised when the hunter reached out his hand to touch the Impala, then turned, smiled, and withdrew it.
"Huh," Sam and Dean uttered in unison when they saw Denton's gesture to not cause further trouble.
"Well, I'll be damned." Dean added.
Trust- the old hunter thought, as he smiled back at Dean. The protector was beginning to question his instincts. Good. The hole was beginning to open up and Denton was calibrating the number of steps it would take before he could start worming through it. The preditor was making his moves towards the ultimate goal-check mating "the prey". "Like taking candy from a crocodile," he muttered under his breath, quite pleased with how the chess match was going. .