Chapter 14 No Remorse
Forest Edge, Oregon
"Ellie? Where did that box go? The one with the stuff?" Dean walked into the kitchen, his gaze darting around the room in distraction.
"A little more specific?" Ellie set aside her journal and the day planner. She was almost done with the week's scheduling.
"You know—the one. With the stuff," he said. He waved a hand in frustration. "The box from Whitefish."
"Dean…we brought thirty boxes from Whitefish—what was in it?"
"I can't remember exactly what most of the stuff was, but there was an old set of baseball cards in there with it." He stopped by the table, brows draw together. "I showed them to you, uh, a while ago?"
"Right. Okay," she said, putting her cup down as she recalled the box. Aside from the cards, the box held items from Dean's year with the Braedons, in Cicero. "It's in the attic, next to the bookshelves, marked 'Cicero'."
He did a small double-take. "Cicero?"
She shrugged. "It's got your stuff from the year there."
"I had stuff from that year?"
"Must have," Ellie said.
"Uh, okay. Thanks." He headed for the hall.
"No problem."
She picked up her cup and pulled the day planner back toward her, looking at the calendar over the counter. They had a two o'clock appointment that afternoon at the school to meet the new art teacher. She'd already gathered up about a year's worth of both John and Rosie's drawings, thinking, finally, it was time to get a more objective opinion on them. Jotting into the book, she realised she hadn't reminded Dean.
Getting to her feet, she finished her coffee, wondering if she'd have enough time to work through Frank's latest analysis today. The way things were going, it didn't seem likely.
Dean opened the attic door and stepped into the quiet, dark space, feeling along the doorjamb for the lightswitch. He found it and the bare bulbs up the length of the ridgeline. The bookshelves were to the left, set perpendicular to the slope of the roof, back to back and holding all sorts of documents that weren't quite important enough to be downstairs in the basement. He saw the pile of the boxes beside the first one and walked over to them.
Cicero.
The word was in marker, in Ellie's clear printing across the top of the box. He lifted the box onto the pile and opened the flaps. Inside, at the bottom of the box, his father's coat lay folded, and he closed his eyes against the disorienting sensation of seeing it again, after so long. He remembered packing it away, to send to Bobby. On top of the coat, there were a couple of paperbacks, one holding a half-dozen photographs sleeved between the pages. They were from Bobby's place, from the panic room after the house had been burned down. Pictures of him and Sam, and their father, and Bobby, at the yard. He'd meant to put them with family photographs from Lawrence but he'd forgotten about them.
Next to the books, the small wooden box of cards were half-hidden by a few shirts. He pulled them out, belatedly recalling what he'd been looking for. He and Sam had been arguing over switch hitter Mantle's RBIs and it was on one of the cards in the box. He had no doubt that Sam would be scouring the internet for the information. He fanned through the deck and Mantle's face leapt out at him. Reading through the details, he tucked the cards into his jacket pocket. The great Sam Winchester had been wrong. He frowned at the box as he recognised his lack of care in the victory. The past had taken more from him, in its latest ambush.
He let his gaze drift around the attic as he refolded the flaps on the box, and lifted it onto a shelf. Already, there were a variety of things that had made their way up here in the last couple of years. The casual scan stopped at the cradle.
It had been John's in North Carolina. Then Rosie's when they moved back to Oregon. He'd been thinking about it, just before they went down to Santa Barbara, thinking of getting it down, sanding it back and varnishing it, getting it ready.
For their son. His son. For Paul. He couldn't remember how the name had come up, or who'd suggested it. One of those things that had disappeared in the million other things happening around the same time. They'd both liked it, both felt it had been right.
Walking to the cradle, he rested his hand against the end when he reached it. Part of his mind noted the runners needed cleaning and oiling, the mechanism feeling slightly stiff under his fingers.
He'd felt the baby's strong kick under his hands. Once you felt that, he thought, it changed everything. He'd gone from thinking of Ellie as pregnant to thinking of her carrying Paul, their child, their son, John and Rosie's baby brother.
Emotion swept up and over him, dropping him to his knees next to the cradle, rising from the same place as the melancholy over the photographs but a thousand times stronger, this ambush more like a missile strike. It filled his chest and throat, the backs of his eyes, and his head pounded with it, his heart aching. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to be like that. Not supposed to happen like that. The words raced through his mind in circles, stabbing into him along with the images of a still pale body and blood everywhere over the dark rocks.
He didn't hear Ellie come up the steps or cross the wooden floor, just felt her arms wrap around him and he leaned into her as she knelt in front of him. The grief he'd thought he'd gotten through, thought had been released, rose between them and drowned them both.
Three hours later, Dean leaned back against the arm of the sofa, feeling empty, scoured clean. Ellie lay half on him, his arms holding her close, her cheek against the side of his neck. He could feel her lashes fluttering a little on his skin.
"I thought…" he said, the words drying up when he stumbled over lingering sorrow again. He cleared his throat. "I thought I'd gone through that."
She sighed, her breath huffing against him. "I did too."
"I—he—" He stopped, remembering her vehemence about the baby's identity when they'd lost each other a few weeks ago.
Ellie lifted her head, twisting herself to meet his eyes. "You can grieve for the promise of someone, as much as for the person themselves. I know we didn't know him, not really, only the idea of who he might have grown to be, but it doesn't change the feelings of loss."
He rested his cheek against her hair, arms closing more tightly around her. There were times when he felt she knew him so intimately, so deeply, that he didn't have to say anything at all. He didn't know how that was possible, but it had been true from almost the first time he'd met her, when her understanding had drained the poison inside of him and he could see who might be.
The phone rang, and Ellie opened her eyes, a sudden jolt of panic at the thought she'd slept too long driving her to check her watch. Twelve. That was okay. She was lying on the sofa, warm and comfortable with a throw over her, and she realised she must've been sleeping for a while. She knuckled her eyes and sat up, hearing Dean's voice in the kitchen, her attention focusing when she heard it deepen.
He came into the living room, the handset held tightly against his ear, his gaze seeking her out as he listened to the person on the other end of the line. Another jolt of panic hit her. Dean's face was tense.
"Well, what is the matter?" he bit out, anger lacing the edges of the words now.
Ellie got to her feet.
"No, that—alright. Listen. We'll be there in twenty minutes," he said, hitting the button to end the call with a controlled thump of his thumb.
"What?"
"The school. John's upset about something and they don't know what to do."
She turned without further questions, grabbing her jacket from the coat rack in the hall and her purse from the hall table as he opened the front door.
Dean drove fast but smoothly and they were at the small elementary school in fifteen minutes, sending a shower of gravel over the steps as he swung the car around in front of the building.
They ran up the steps, Ellie turning for the principal's office automatically, aware of him a step behind her and to one side. She thought if any teachers or children had been in the hallway to witness their entrance, they'd have thought they were either cops or terrorists, neither speaking, moving together as if they were on a job. The thought brought no smile.
"Mrs Winchester, I'm so glad—" the principal said, rising from behind his desk as Ellie pushed the door open.
"Where's John?" She cut him off, her gaze moving around the room fast and returning to him. He recoiled a little at the chill in her eyes.
"He's, uh, in the nurse's room, with his sister," Mr Sorenson said, gesturing to the hall. "He won't calm down."
Ellie turned on her heel, and followed Dean out of the office, swinging left and heading for the nurse's room two doors down. She could hear Sorenson following them, murmuring something or other, but she ignored him, striding away fast.
When they entered, Ellie saw John immediately, crouched down on the floor in the corner of the room, his arms wrapped around his knees and his face tucked into them. Against the opposite wall, Rosie sat on the couch, small hands clasped in her lap, swinging her legs. Ellie felt a flicker of unease at the sight of her daughter sitting there as if nothing was wrong. Rosie was usually the first to cry if there was anything wrong with her brother. She spared a swift glance at the nurse, standing by the window, then turned to follow Dean to the corner.
"What is it, John? What's wrong?" Dean's voice was soft and deep, and he lifted the boy out of the corner. Ellie saw him wince, the reason apparent a second later. The damp patch on her son's shorts was a surprise. Dean moved to the other couch in the room, sitting down and holding John on his lap. Ellie walked after them and crouched in front of Dean, smoothing her son's hair back from his face gently.
John lifted his face, tears making tracks down his cheeks. He tried to make himself smaller behind Ellie, his gaze darting over her shoulder at Rosie and returning to his mother's face. Seeing his reaction, Ellie moved sideways to block his view of his sister, looking over his head at Dean. She moved closer, wipin at his tears with the ball of her thumb.
"We're here, sweetheart...tell me what's wrong?"
"That's not Rosie," John whispered, his eyes huge as he stared at her. A chill raced down her spine. Dean tensed, his arms enclosing the little boy more closely.
"What can you see, John?" she asked him, her voice barely audible. He let out a harsh exhale, his expression twisting.
"Her face is all funny. It doesn't look right. It's not Rosie," he said.
Ellie pulled her purse onto her knees, opening it and drawing out a small compact and a handful of tissues. As she dried John's face, she flipped open the compact, angling it behind her.
In the reflection, Rosie was definitely not Rosie. One of the creatures that used illusion and deflection, it could be a wraith or ghoul or changeling. She'd need to get closer to determine that, unless they found the mother.
"Get him out of here," she said tightly to Dean. He nodded and stood up, lifting John against his chest as Ellie rose and turned to the principal.
"He's been having nightmares the last few days, something on television, I think," she lied smoothly. "We'll take him home and I'm sure he'll be fine shortly." She glanced at Rosie. "We were supposed to meet the new art teacher at two…"
"Mrs Vanbilten, yes, she's been helping the children with their art today," Sorenson said quickly, visibly relieved to have the hysterical child and his occasionally frightening parents departing from his school. "She has a session with the parents this afternoon."
"Well, as Rosie's been looking forward to being at big school all week," Ellie said, smiling at the little girl. "We'll pick her up when we come back for that. If that's fine with you?"
"Yes, Rosie's been no trouble at all. I'm glad you'll be meeting the new art teacher. John and Rosie have real gifts."
"We'll see you at two, sweetie," Ellie said to the girl, then turned to the principal. "I'm sorry that this has been disruptive for you, Mr Sorenson."
"No, it's really fine, Mrs Winchester. Children can become emotional, although I really recommend to parents that at this age, television can be a—"
"Quite right," Ellie said, walking fast out the door and turning toward the school's entrance.
Dean was still holding John in the front seat of the car when she opened the passenger door and slid inside. She turned to look at him.
"Tell us what you saw, baby."
"The art teacher, the new one. She looked funny, a bit. Sometimes it was looking at one of those pictures…the pictures you can see the insides of people?"
"Like an x-ray?" Dean asked and John nodded.
"Yeah, when she was standing too close." John fumbled through the confusing memories of the events of the day. "She was talking to a lot of the kids, taking them outside. I didn't see…I didn't see until Rosie," he started to stammer, and tears spilled down his cheeks again.
"It's okay, John," Dean held him more closely, tucking him up against his chest. "It's okay. You did great to see it, great to let us know."
"Rosie went out to show her pictures," John hiccuped, wiping his eyes. "She came back, and it wasn't Rosie, it was a monster underneath. And I looked—I looked—I—" He turned his head and buried his face against his father's chest, a long howling sob muffled against his jacket.
"What is it?" Dean looked at Ellie. "Changeling?"
She caught her lip with her teeth, the crease between her brows deep as she went through her mental files of monsters who could look like humans. The face in the mirror had had a round mouth, like a lamprey, she thought.
"Yeah, if the Vanbilten is the mother, that's the most likely," she said.
He nodded, the muscle at the point of his jaw jumping as he struggled to keep his feelings locked down. "How the hell do we find Rosie?"
John sniffed suddenly, looking up at him. "I know where she is, Daddy. She's still here."
"Where?"
John screwed up his face for a moment, eyes tightly shut, hands in small fists. "She's in a car with other kids. Near the park where we fly the kites."
Dean passed him to Ellie, and started the engine, accelerating out of the school's driveway and sending out another shower of gravel behind them.
"No, Daddy, it's moving—the car is moving," John said loudly, holding his mother's hand tightly as they pulled around the bend and onto the gravel road that led to the park's parking lot.
"Where, John? Can you see where?" Ellie said to him, her arms wrapped him as Dean slowed down.
"Up a hill." He opened his eyes wide. "There's a number next to the road, Mommy. Twenty."
"Highway 20." Dean scowled, turning the car around and accelerating out of the lot. "She's heading out of the state."
Ellie's phone rang and she answered it without looking at the caller. "Yes?"
"Mrs Winchester, I'm afraid that Mrs Vanbilten has had a family emergency and has left the school."
No kidding, Ellie thought acidly. "Yes?"
"We were wondering if you would be able to pick up your daughter sooner than two."
"I'm afraid not, Mr Sorenson," she answered, wondering who she could get to pick up the changeling and secure it. "Mrs Katherine Hinkley will be there at two to pick her up on our behalf. We've…uh…"
"Hospital," Dean hissed at her, glancing at John.
"We've had to take John down to the hospital for some tests."
"Oh." There was a silence on the other end of the line. "Well, thank you for letting me know."
Ellie ended the call. "Boring conversation anyway."
She dialled Kath's number, bracing herself and John as the car swung tight around the next bend.
"Kath? Need a favour."
Highway 20
Ellie looked down at her son. John was curled into her lap, eyes closed, sleep having overtaken him an hour ago.
"Dean, we can't take John into this," she said, her voice low. The car was doing ninety along the virtually empty road, and dusk was close, the mountains around them coloured in mauve and lavender, indigo and grey, the headlights shining wanly on the tarmac, picking out the white lines.
"We can't find her without him, Ellie," he replied, his attention fixed on the road.
He was right. John's ability to feel his sister was the only thing that would let them find her. But every mile they travelled east was another mile away from safety, from the defences of their home.
"We just need to catch up," he continued. She felt his sideways glance at her silence. "Just catch up to her. Then you stay with John in the car, and I'll gank the fucking bitch and get Rosie and we can go home."
He sounded close to the edge of his control and Ellie nodded. Neither of them knew how much time they had. Changelings were largely unknown monsters. The few they had killed had been in the midst of collecting—the children taken, the changelings left in their place to feed on the parents—they didn't know what the mother did with them while her offspring fed.
The car's speed increased again, and she rested her temple against the cool glass of the window. Katherine would pick up the changeling and put it in the panic room where it couldn't harm anyone. Once the mother was killed, it too would disappear.
"Wake John," Dean said, when they passed the Welcome to Burns sign by the side of the road.
Ellie shifted her arms around her son and the little boy opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the dim light of the dash.
"Where's Rosie, John?" Dean asked.
John closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head. "I can't see anything."
Over his head, Ellie glanced at Dean. "She might be asleep."
"Great," Dean muttered. "We've got too many choices here."
He slowed down and drove into the town. Highway 20 continued into Idaho. 78 turned into the 95 and headed south to Nevada. 395 went north. John squirmed on Ellie's lap, knuckling his eyes. Driving to the centre of town, Dean pulled over. He rubbing a hand over his jaw as his gaze rested on the signs along the street. Drawing in a breath, he turned to his son.
"John?" he said. "Do you know which way Rosie went?"
The little boy looked around them carefully. He looked a little longer at the road that led to the airport, Dean thought, watching John's eyelids half-close as he seemed to stare at the sign. Then they opened wide again and he looked back at his father, shaking his head slightly.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," John said. "I can't see anything."
Dean rested his hand lightly on his son's head. "It's okay, John, we'll find her."
He looked at Ellie. "Washington, Idaho or Nevada?"
"Nevada," Ellie said immediately, not sure of the reasons for her certainty, yet sure it was right. "I don't know why."
Dean chewed on the corner of his lip for a moment before nodding. "I think so too."
He started the car and pulled out, following the signs to the airport and Highway 78.
Winnemucca, Nevada
Dean woke with a start when they pulled into the town, the streetlights strobing into the car as they passed under them. They'd swapped after turning due south onto the 95, wrapping John in a blanket and settling him to sleep on the back seat, Ellie taking over the driving.
Straightening in his seat, he flicked a glance over the back at the sleeping boy. The sour aftertaste of yesterday's fear coated his mouth, and he knew Ellie was right—John shouldn't be here. He should have been safe, at home, guarded and protected. Tipping his head back, he scratched at the stubble over his jaw and throat and exhaled. If he could think of any other way to find Rosie…but there wasn't any other way. He looked at his watch. It would be dawn soon, and Rosie woke with the dawn every day. They'd know where she was then.
Unless the bitch sedated all the kids she'd taken.
"You think she's knocked the kids out?" he asked Ellie. She shook her head.
"No. John's reaction forced her into leaving," she said, the quickness and certainty of her response suggesting she'd been thinking of the possibility as well. "Whatever she was planning originally, she had to go before she was ready."
Dean nodded, hoping she was right. If they'd made the wrong decision last night, if she'd headed into Idaho instead of south…they might not be able to catch up now. That was enough to worry about.
Ellie pulled into the gas station and stopped beside the pumps. They got out and he filled the tank while she went into the store, getting coffee and milk, packaged sandwiches and snack food to last them the day. The I-80 ran through the town, heading north and east into Utah in one direction, or south and west into California in the other but either way it was a long time between stops.
Dean replaced the pump and glanced through the window into the back, seeing John sitting up and rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"Hey," he said, opening the door and crouching beside it. "Mom's just getting us breakfast."
John nodded, then his eyes widened. A rush of relief at the boy's reaction flooded Dean.
"Can you see where Rosie is, John?"
The little boy nodded, pushing his hair back from his face as he looked at his father. "The sun's in her eyes but she's 'wake now."
East, Dean thought, to Utah. He stood up and moved out of the way as Ellie came up behind him.
"Utah."
"Good," Ellie said, handing John a small bottle of milk and a sandwich, then passing Dean a coffee and cellophane-wrapped slice of blackberry pie. "Less traffic that way."
I-80 E, Nevada
Dean's phone rang a half-hour out of Winnemucca and he pulled it out, glancing at the caller.
"Yeah?" He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. "Sam, slow down. Okay…we're a couple of hours from Utah. All right. Bring Ellie's truck. We'll meet you when we've finished here. Yeah. No, call Laney."
He closed the phone and dropped it back on the seat, dragging in a deep breath. Never rains but pours. Ellie was sleeping, tucked between the door and the seat. His gaze flicked up to the rear vision mirror, seeing John playing quietly in the back seat with a small box of Lego.
"John, can you see where Rosie is?" he asked. John's eyes lifted to meet his in the mirror.
"There's white all around. And it's hard to look at," John replied, his face scrunching up as he tried to make sense of what his sister was seeing. "It's really bright, like the snow is sometimes in the winter when the sun is on it."
Dean nodded, recognising the location. Where the interstate crossed into Utah, it crossed over the great salt plains, just past Wendover. They were only three or four hours behind the mother. He put his foot down, and the car accelerated smoothly. Frank had found Asase Ya in Colorado. He and Sam could head up from Utah, meet the others in Boulder. Ellie could take the kids home.
He shut out the what-ifs and the maybes and focussed on getting Rosie back. They could call the cops in Utah to get the other kids safely home.
"Can you see how many kids are in the car, John?"
"Five," John answered without hesitation. "Tommy, and Rachel and Mickey. And Christina and Rosie."
Dean nodded. Ellie would know how to contact the parents. His foot went down a little further and the car responded, eating up the road, powerful and balanced and making light of the miles. He might catch up before she got to Salt Lake City, if she wasn't aware of the pursuit.
"John?" He looked into the mirror again. "Can Rosie feel you?"
The boy looked down at the blocks in his hands. "I don't think so. She's scared of the lady who's driving. She's trying to make herself small so she doesn't get noticed. She can see the lady isn't a real person."
Goddamn it, Dean thought with a flush of misery. More nightmares. In the rearview mirror, his son's face reflected the same worry and he made an effort to smile.
"She'll be okay, John," he said. "We'll take care of it, and Rosie'll be fine."
Wendover, Utah
"How far behind her are we?" Ellie yawned and stretched, glancing through the windows. The car raced along the interstate. She'd woken with an ache in the small of her back and a low grade fear eating at her.
"John said Rosie could see water, a lot of it," he said.
"Great Salt Lake?" She thought of miles and speed. "Maybe an hour then?"
"About that," he agreed. "Sam called. Frank's found Asase Ya, in Colorado. He'll bring the pickup and meet us wherever we are when we've finished this."
"You want me to take the kids home while you go on with him?"
"Yep."
Thinking about the logistics, Ellie agreed it was the best option. "How many are going?"
"Sam, Carl, Marcus, Bezaliel, Idan and Oran," he said. "Told Sam to call Laney and send Steve and Jeremy down as well."
"Did Garth and Tamsin get all the ingredients the spell needed?"
"Sam said they did." He shrugged. That part of it was out of his hands. "Not sure how we're going to make the circle big enough to hold her, but we'll worry about that when we get there."
"Fire," Ellie said. "Burn it into the ground once you've located her. Make it hot, the charred earth will hold her for a short time."
He smiled, one side of his mouth lifting. "Where'd you get that?"
"It was in one of the African tales, the oral ones we had Tamsin translate a couple of months ago. It's a barrier. Not a long-lasting one. You've got a very limited window, but it does offend Asase Ya enough to keep her in place."
"Knew there was a reason I married you."
"Yep, obscure facts about long-ago goddesses at my fingertips…you really know how to pick 'em." She smiled, closing her eyes and easing the strain in her neck. "And speaking of burning, is the blow torch still in the trunk?"
"Four of 'em, loaded and ready to go," he replied smugly.
"And that would be why I married you."
"Dad, she stopped, she's stopping," John said, leaning forward from the back seat. Dean looked at him in the mirror as Ellie turned around.
"Where? What can you see?"
"A playground, next to the water," John closed his eyes. "And picnic tables. Like a park."
"Can you see buildings, baby? A town?"
John shook his head. "No, just trees and the water and the road."
"This side of the lake?"
"Too good to be true," Dean said, pushing the accelerator down again. "Five kids she's got in that van, guess bathroom stops are essential."
"Lucky for us," Ellie agreed, pulling out the map of Utah and opening it. "Okay, I've got it, there's an off ramp on the other side of the town, the Lincoln crosses the lake just before it. Some kind of rest area."
"Can we get to it from the back?"
"We can but we'll be slowed down some going through the town. Better off to stick to the interstate and go in hard and fast from the front. John'll see her moving if she gets done before we get there anyway. She doesn't know us—doesn't know the car."
"Yeah."
In the morning sunshine, the salt-riddled flats and marshes were iridescent and sparkling, the deeper water beyond reflecting the washed-out blue of the sky, the range of mountains to the north the only delineation between sea and sky. The traffic was light, and Dean moved from lane to lane, seconds ticking away in his head, the engine growl and the hiss of the tyres over the concrete the only sound in the car.
He saw the off ramp and changed lanes, looking into the mirror at John.
"They still there, John?"
John nodded. "They're at the table. She gave them food."
"Good." He flicked a sideways glance at Ellie. "How do you want to play it?"
She leaned back in the seat. "John, can you see how close the table is to the restrooms?"
"Not far. The car park is nearly empty," he said. "The restrooms are next to it. The table is close to it too." His face screwed up with concentration. "I can see the numbers and letters on the front of their car."
"Close then," Dean said, easing off the accelerator when they reached the straight stretch of road running along the lake.
"Park nose in and open the trunk," she said, and turned in the seat. "As soon as we get near the table, I want you to open the window and yell for Rosie to come."
John nodded.
"We'll cut her off; from the kids and from the van," she added to Dean. "And hope there's no one else around."
Dean saw the rest area's gravelled parking lot ahead and turned into it. Rosie could give the game away if she recognised the car, he thought, as the gravel popped and crunched under the tyres. He could see them; a woman and a group of children sitting at the table near the edge of the lot, his daughter's bright copper curls blazing in the sunshine. One other car was in the lot, and a dark-haired man was sitting at another table further away, with a blonde woman.
"Stay in the car, John," he said, stopping the car and turning off the engine. "No matter what happens, don't move, stay in the car."
Ellie opened the passenger door and slid out, moving around the car to the trunk as Dean popped the lock and got out. When he reached her, she had two blowtorches ready, the travel blanket over them. Taking one each, they split up, taking either side of the car and walking unhurriedly toward the picnic table.
The mother had watched them stop and get out, most of her face hidden behind large sunglasses. Dean could feel her eyes on them as they got closer. The children were eating sandwiches, heads bowed over the table and he resisted the impulse to run straight for Rosie and grab her, slowing down and changing direction slightly, veering a little closer to the table as he turned to Ellie.
"Damn, forgot the cooler," he said. She shrugged and made a half turn back toward the car. He backed, another foot nearer the table.
John opened the window of the Impala, sticking his head out. "Rosie!"
His high-pitched voice split the quiet of the picnic area and Rosie's head snapped up, her eyes widening as she saw her father close to her. Dean threw the blanket across the table at the woman and lit his blowtorch in the same movement, the modified nozzle sending out a three-foot gout of flame as he ran for the woman.
Ellie crossed the distance to the table in two long strides, lifting Rosie off the bench seat and grabbing the girl next to her. She took a stride sideways and set the girls on their feet. "Rosie, get in the car. Come on, everyone in the black car!"
The children scrambled off the seats, following Rosie and Christina to the Impala, and the teacher dodged behind the table, her shrill scream filling the area. Ellie moved around the table, blowtorch lit. She stepped between the woman and the last little boy, the long blast of flame reaching greedily out toward the changeling mother.
"HEY!"
Across the lot, the other man had risen to his feet, his blonde companion clutching at his arm.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He started forward as the changeling mother baulked in front of Ellie and Dean closed the distance, trapping the woman between them.
"HEY!"
The art teacher swung toward him. "Help me! Please, help me!"
Dean swore under his breath and held down the trigger, sweeping the eruption of fire up the back of changeling mother as Ellie sped up to intercept the dark-haired man.
"Jesus Christ!" The man stopped in shock as the changeling mother caught alight, her scream rising in pitch and drilling into their ears until she fell into a pile of ash near Dean's feet.
"You killed her." The civilian turned to Ellie, his eyes wide and staring.
"She was a monster," Ellie countered prosaically, cutting the gas to the flame thrower in her hands. "Those children were kidnapped from Oregon," she added, pulling her FBI badge from the inside pocket of her jacket. It was highly doubtful the FBI had ever used blowtorches in their operations but that couldn't be helped.
"Go back to your table, everything's under control here."
He turned slowly, catching sight of his companion, lying on the ground by the table. "Cheryl?"
Dean raised a brow at Ellie and turned off his torch. "Time to go?"
She nodded. "Yeah, I think so."
Grantsville, Utah
The Grantsville police were astounded when they turned up with the children. The APB had only come in on the wire that morning and they lost no time calling the parents and organising a bus to take them back to Oregon. Ellie left Dean to handle the paperwork and took Rosie and John to the bathroom, checking Rosie and washing her face and hands. John wouldn't let go of his sister's hand, and Rosie stood as close to him as she could.
"We're going home now," Ellie told her, kneeling on the floor and hugging both of them tightly.
"Can we have burgers for lunch?" John asked hopefully. Beside him, Rosie was holding his hand, her face solemn.
"Why not?" she said. "Burgers and fries? Maybe a sundae?"
"Yeah!"
"Okay," Ellie said, opening the door for them.
Dean picked up Rosie when they returned to the front desk, John clinging like a shadow to his side as they walked back out to the car.
"Sam called. He's in Idaho; he'll be here by tonight," he said to Ellie, putting Rosie into the car seat and buckling her in. "You going back the way we came?"
"Yeah, it's direct." Ellie nodded. "Taking it a bit easier than we did coming out here, I can still be home before morning. Did you happen to see a good place for burgers as we drove in?"
"Uh, yeah," Dean said. "There was one near the motel."
"Good," Ellie said. "We're having burgers for lunch. We'll get a room and they can nap after lunch."
Sam and Carl arrived at the motel just after sunset, parking Ellie's white pickup next to the black car and getting out as Dean and Ellie walked toward them across the grass, Rosie in the crook of Dean's arm, John trotting alongside his mother.
"You made good time," Dean said, grinning at his brother. Sam shrugged.
"Had to happen sometime. I filled up just outside of town."
"Did you get hold of Laney?" Ellie lifted Rosie's car seat into the rear seat of the pickup and tightened the belts. Dean tucked Rosie into it and John scrambled over the seat and did up his seat belt on the other side.
"Yeah, Jeremy's out on something else but Steve and Charlie will meet us in Pueblo." Carl said, watching Dean buckle his daughter in.
"Pueblo? What happened to Boulder?"
"Frank called. Asase Ya has been moving south," Sam said.
"Should have this wrapped up in a couple of days then," Dean said dryly. Sam snorted.
"Give or take a week or two."
"Right." Dean turned to Ellie as the two men walked to the Impala. "I'll see you when I get home."
She looked up at him, smiling. "Don't go aggravating that goddess, Dean."
"Me? Nah," he said, pulling her into his arms. "Just a nice lullaby to send her back to sleep this time."
The kiss was light, yet complex, and he felt the deepening tremors in himself and in her, letting her go when they got too much.
"You gonna take the kids back to school?"
She shook her head. "I'll get Frank to fudge something up for me. I think we'll take the rest of the week off and stay home and count ourselves lucky that it all wasn't a lot worse."
He nodded, turning his head to look at the children. "Yeah."
Losing Paul had been bad. Losing either Rosie or John was the promise of pain he never, ever wanted to visit. He ducked his head, resting his cheek along hers.
"Be careful," he said, his voice little more than a whisper against her ear. He felt the slight lift of her cheek against his.
"I always am," she reminded him.
"Not always," he said, letting her go and stepping back as she opened the door and swung herself up into the seat.
Ellie wound down the window, and leaned out, looking at him. "That goes double for you, you know."
The pickup engine started as he nodded. Life was precarious and getting worse, he thought, watching her back up and turn the truck, rumbling away out of the lot. He thought the last couple of days had probably aged him another ten years. There were things he could handle and things he couldn't, and now…now he knew exactly what all of those things were.
Lovelock, Nevada
"I don't believe it," Chasina watched the images on the flat, silvery surface of the water in the bowl in front of her. The nephilim was very tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, smooth dark skin gleaming in the reflected light of the bowl. Black hair, cut short, framed the large, dark eyes and inhumanly perfect features.
"Don't believe what?" Idra walked behind her, peering over her shoulder. The son of Baraquiel had the heaviest build of all the firstborn, a man with the frame of a titan. His hair was similarly cut short, the dark red tipped by silver as the light caught it. They watched the small white pickup drive along the wide road, headlights piercing the darkness. "What is it?"
"Two of the Winchester children. With their mother," Chasina leaned closer to the surface. "Unprotected. Alone."
"I'll get Maluch."
"If we leave now, we can catch them past Winnemucca. There's nothing really but wilderness." She straightened and turned, raising her voice as he left the long, cool tile and marble room.
Maluch was still smarting from his last encounter with Dean Winchester, she knew. Reuma as well. They hadn't been able to find any of the Winchesters in the last six months, and Maluch had reluctantly concluded that wherever it was the hunters were living, it was protected from their sight too well. But here…here on the open road they were visible and obtainable.
She turned away from the bowl, the long tails of her coat swinging out, and hurried through the rooms to the paved courtyard at the front of the huge house. To her eyes, the walls were alight with sigils and wardings, hiding them effectively from the full blood angels they knew were attempting to find them, from their own kind, and from their fathers.
None of them had known of the Council's decision until last year, when Maluch had finally found one of the Others skulking in the desert in Jordan and had retrieved the information from him.
Chasina remembered sweet, kind Elessa, the daughter of Azazel. It was only after she'd been sacrificed that Azazel had begun the campaign against humankind, she thought. He'd always been a meddler, but he'd never gone very far, regarding his meddling as a joke, something to while away the centuries after he'd fallen. After Elessa's death…he'd changed. Some of the things he'd done had been a reflection of his pain and suffering, his desire to see that pain inflicted across the world.
Mikel, the son of Amaros, had been the strongest of them all, the only one who'd ever been able to keep them together. He'd been his father's loudest advocate for humanity's evolution.
She pushed the memories away, running lightly down the broad, shallow steps to the charcoal grey four-wheel drive sitting to one side of the big courtyard. As ye sow, so shall ye reap. The thought flickered against her consciousness and vanished.
I-80 W, Nevada
Ellie glanced back into the rear seat. Both Rosie and John were sleeping, leaning against the sides of their seats, hands loosely curled in their laps. The last couple of days would take their toll on both children, she thought.
Katherine had called earlier. The changeling child had burned up when Dean had taken out the mother. She hoped that the parents of the other children hadn't been watching the changelings at that moment, because it would probably send them into therapy for years. She'd been wondering on and off all day if the changeling mother's interest in the little school had been sparked by Rosie and John, but she thought not. Changelings weren't interested in anything other than feeding. They had little else on their simple agendas. It had just been bad luck that it had chosen the school. The mother certainly hadn't been expecting hunters.
Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that wheels were turning again, wheels within wheels, weaving the lines of destiny around them for some unknown and probably terrifying purpose. Dean had developed a healthy paranoia about the machinations of the universe in the last few years, with good reason.
She'd told him once that if they were drawn into the power plays more often than others, it was because they were needed, a part of the checks and balances God favoured so much. But recently, she'd thought there might even be more to it than that, some deeply laid, long-hidden plan involving them for no discernible reason, for a god's reason, one that they might never know. The idea sent a shiver down her spine. Being noticed was something no hunter wanted. Being noticed meant being in the firing line, and they had so much to lose now.
Losing Paul, then finding out she could no longer conceive another child…those had been blows she'd barely understood, not for herself, not for the wracking pain that had come with them. It was clearer now, she thought. No less painful, but clearer. She knew she wasn't alone in that pain.
What had hit her when she'd seen the changeling in the compact's mirror had been something else entirely. John and Rosie were their children, the tangible and independent results of a love she couldn't survive without, but more than that, they were themselves, people she loved for themselves, even if no biological bond had been present. Losing them…she let the thought hang unfinished. It was not an option.
She straightened in the seat as she saw the twinkle of Winnemucca's lights ahead, pushing her thoughts aside and burying them under the considerations of fuel and food, distance and time.
Highway 191, Utah
"So, where're we doing this?" Dean asked, flicking a glance to the hunched-up figure beside him.
"La Junta," Sam replied, pushing back against the seat as he tried to straighten his legs. "She was in Colorado Springs, but started moving south again, so I called everyone and we're meeting in Pueblo."
"Ellie said that we need to burn the circle into the soil. The charred earth will hold her."
"That's good to hear. Frank had nothing on how to keep her in place while we did the incantation," Carl said, leaning forward and resting his forearms along the seat back.
Dean did the distance calculations in his head. "We'll be there a bit before sunrise. What about the others?"
"Marcus and Bezaliel were right behind us when we left. Idan and Oran as well," Sam said.
Carl nodded. "And Steve and Charlie have been driving since Frank gave us the heads-up. They should make it by midday tomorrow."
"Did Frank say if we could see this chick?"
Sam snorted. "No, more like a force of nature than an actual entity."
"We'll know where she is because it'll feel different, Tamsin said," Carl added. "The air will taste and smell different, richer, like a…winery or a brewery almost, fermentation, I think she said, and things will be growing fast enough to be able to watch them get bigger."
"Yeah, that won't be creepy at all," Dean remarked. "Anyone say how fast she moves? What we need the perimeter to be?"
"From the last movement, Frank said it was about four miles per day."
"Well, that's nice and slow."
"Yeah, but a sixteen square mile circle is still no joke," Sam looked at him. Dean shrugged.
"We'll figure it out when we get there. See if we can get the local fire department to help out."
He scratched at the back of his neck, shifting his shoulders, feeling the uncomfortable prickle of his nerves there. Was that a leftover from the last two days, he wondered, or something new? The prickling sensation faded a little and he narrowed his focus to the dark road ribboning ahead of them.
Highway 95, Nevada
Ellie glanced into the rearview mirror, a small crease between her brows as she tried to locate the source of her unease. It had started as she'd turned onto the highway and left the lights of the town behind them, getting stronger and then fading away over the last twenty miles. She was alone on the highway, nothing behind her and nothing coming the other way and she wasn't sure if it wasn't just a hangover from the reactions of the last two days she hadn't yet dealt with.
She checked the speedometer, accelerating to take their speed up to seventy. No one knows exactly where we are. It had to be the after-shocks.
She'd made another ten miles when the headlights appeared behind her, and her nerves started to jump again. Keeping an eye on them in the mirror, she pushed the truck's speed up to eighty, her concentration narrowing down to the road in front of her and the lights that were getting larger in the mirror, every time she checked them. When another set appeared behind the first, a savage jolt ran through her nervous system.
An ordinary citizen driving this road at night wouldn't be going faster than she was, she thought. Cops would have had their lights on by now. So whoever it was, it wasn't good.
There was nothing now until she got close to Burns, over the state line. Until then, all she had were mountain ranges and forest and salt flats to both sides. She chewed the inside of her cheek, watching the lights behind her, increasing the pickup's speed to ninety. The headlights were still growing larger. Whoever it was, they were determined to catch her.
There were numerous trails leading off the highway, but she didn't know them, didn't know if they went all the way through or dead-ended in the forest that covered the eastern flanks of the mountains. Being trapped wasn't an option, not with two small children. McDermitt was a few miles further north, and she wondered if she'd be able to make it before they caught up, find some place she could defend if need be.
The high beam flashed into the rearview mirror and her eyes and she reached up, flicking the mirror downwards, glimpsing the big car behind her. It was too late. They were here.
She watched one of the cars pull out into the oncoming lane, speeding up to flank her, the other one getting close behind her and she shut down the speculations and questions completely. When the car to her left moved ahead slightly, she wrenched the wheel over, braking then speeding up until she was also in the oncoming lane, behind it, then braking and watching the two cars fly by, taillights flashing red.
The one to the left drifted outward, and she put her foot down, shooting through the gap between them as they slowed, the accelerator pressed hard to the floor, and the speedometer climbing steadily as she shifted fast through the gears. The pickup was no muscle car, the diesel engine was working hard and she could see the clouds of black smoke she was leaving behind against the brilliant headlights of her pursuers. There was a skirmish as they straightened and came after her again, catching her too quickly, their engines more powerful than the truck's.
This time the car behind sped up fast, and rammed the rear. Ellie braced herself against the wheel, swearing bitterly as she checked the rearview, both children crying in shock at the violent awakening. She shifted her gaze to the big car behind her again, and hit the switch on the dash for the rear spotlights, sending a wall of white light backward. The lights illuminated the grille, showing the punctured radiator where the car had impacted on the pickup's tow bar. The car swerved and slowed as the driver was blinded and Ellie stomped on the accelerator, the pickup surging forward, leaving it behind.
How long would it take to lose their coolant, she wondered?
The other car was creeping closer to her, and Ellie flicked a glance in the mirror, her gaze on John.
"John, move over next to Rosie and get the centre belt on, baby."
He undid his seat belt and slid across the seat to the middle, buckling up again quickly.
"Okay, Mommy."
"Okay, hold on tight, and help Rosie to hold tight too. This is going to get bumpy for a bit," she cautioned them, throwing a fast glance to her left. Maluch's face was outlined by the dashlights of the car, and beyond him another of the nephilim was driving. Her heart sank. They couldn't be killed easily and now they'd found her and the children, here on the highway far from home and protection, they wouldn't give in. She reached to her pack, lying on the passenger seat and scrabbled in it for her gun.
The four-wheel drive kept pace as she continued to accelerate, closing in to a distance of two or three feet from the side of the truck. Ellie braced the wheel with her knees, yanking the gun clear of her bag and winding down the driver's side window at the same time. She put the first bullet into the tyre closest to her. The retort of the gun was loud, and the four-wheel drive skewed away then back as the flattened tyre pulled it one way and the driver fought with the steering wheel.
The next shot she aimed at Maluch's head and the car braked and fell behind. She fired three more shots into the side of the car, aiming for the nephilim, but knowing that the chances of hitting them from a moving vehicle, even at close range, were remote. The car drew close again and she wrenched the wheel left, the pickup's quarter panel hitting the side of the four-wheel drive and shunting the car away. She pushed the truck up to a hundred as they came into a series of short bends, apexing the corners and hoping like hell nothing was coming the other way.
The two cars were left behind and looking into the mirror, she let her out her breath, not quite daring to hope that she'd got away.
"You two okay?"
"Yeah. We're okay," John checked with Rosie who nodded. "Mom, that was so cool!" John's voice was filled with admiration and Ellie closed her eyes briefly.
Light flooded the interior of the cab again from the rear and she turned to look behind them. Both cars were coming up, the shower of sparks from the right hand front of the leading one indicating that it was being driven on the rim.
Goddammit. She looked at the road ahead. There was nowhere to get off, nowhere even to stop. And the temp gauge on the dash was starting to rise. That last hit must have crimped a pipe or caused some damage to the engine that she wasn't going to be able to repair in a hurry.
She saw the turnoff to the left at the last minute, hidden behind the slight curve and took it, the pickup's tyres spinning frantically as they left the tar and hit the gravel. In front of her and along the sides of the road, the headlights lit up the line of dense forest.
Behind her, both pursuit cars had overshot the turn. She turned off the pickup's lights, leaning forward and slowing down as much as she dared to pick out the detail of the lighter coloured road and keep them on it. If she could stay in the forest, for a few minutes, she might be able to get far enough ahead to keep them from knowing which direction to follow.
It was only moments before she saw the cars behind her, moving much more slowly now that they weren't sure where she was, and when she came to the fork, she breathed a sigh of relief, turning right and coasting down the long incline that followed, the truck bouncing over the washouts and rocks. Try following me now, she thought, looking back over her shoulder. The road behind her was dark.
It wasn't a solution. In the truck, she had limited options and she couldn't hide. Without the truck, she'd be stranded here with Rosie and John. Even if they could hide themselves well enough to avoid the nephilim, it would only be a matter of time before she'd have to get them out, find water, find food and a way home. And the highway was the only major road back into Oregon around here. It would be easy for the firstborn to sit somewhere along it and wait for her to stumble into them.
How the hell had they found her? She pushed the thought aside for the moment. There was no way of knowing and speculating would only rob her of the energy she had and needed to get the three of them out of here.
I-70, Utah
"What's wrong?" Sam looked at Dean worriedly.
Dean frowned, tilting his head back as the prickling got worse on the back of his neck.
"I don't know. Something's going wrong," he said. "Call Ellie, Sam."
Sam pulled out the phone and hit the speed dial, lifting it to his ear as he listened. He shook his head. "Out of range. Went to voicemail."
Dean thought of the long stretch between Nevada and Oregon where they hadn't gotten a signal. She'd be past Winnemucca now, he realised, and on that stretch. The sensations weren't like the last time she'd been in danger, steadily escalating reactions that had gone from a warning prickle to pain in the space of a couple of hours. Maybe it wasn't to do with her.
Sam's phone rang and all three of them jumped, looking at it.
"Yeah?" he answered. "Okay, we're about eight hours out. Yeah, listen, all you guys alright? No problems? Okay, good. We'll see you there." He closed the phone and shook his head. "They're not having any problems."
Another surge of sensation flowed through the nerves at the back of Dean's neck and he shifted forward in the driver seat uncomfortably. What the hell was going on?
CR 793, Nevada
The flash of light behind her made her turn her head fast. "John, turn around and watch the light behind us, baby. I need to know what it's doing."
John turned around and looked out the flat rear window. "I think they're coming this way, Mommy."
Magic tracking device or had they just stopped at the fork and seen her tracks, she wondered?
Her eyes had become accustomed to the ambient level of light in the forest and she could see the track clearly in front of the truck. Why the hell hadn't their suburban four-wheel drives bottomed out on the washouts? She could feel the suspension of the truck struggling with the holes and lumps in the road, the cars following her should have been wrecked by now.
Well, they're not, she told herself acerbically, so figure out a way to get away from them before they pick up the back of the truck in their headlights.
"Mommy, I think they see us," John said, and Ellie glanced at the mirror, his face clearly lit by the distant lights.
"Okay, sit down and tighten your belt, baby," she said, flicking on the lights and shifting up. The truck bounced along the road, and Ellie watched the cars behind them getting closer again. They hadn't changed the tyre, she knew, and the coolant must almost be gone by now.
On cue, one car stopped, and she sped up when she glimpsed the figures crossing the headlights and piling into the other one. One down at least.
The driver seemed to take it as a personal insult, because the remaining car came for her much more quickly. The road was rising and falling, running mostly straight and she stared ahead, looking for a way to get out of sight, to get ahead far enough to hide.
The forest ended and she drove out into a bare, open area, her attention focused on the undulations in the landscape she could see; eroded dry watercourses that seemed to criss-cross the bare earth around them. Here and there rocks pushed through the thin soil and the tyres thrummed loudly as she drove over a flattish section of rock, pitted and lumpy where water channels had carved their way through the soft sedimentary stone.
The headlights kept closing and she pushed the truck faster, hanging onto the wheel, her gaze flicking continuously between the terrain ahead and her mirror to check the children as the vehicle jumped and bounced over the rough surface. She was losing most of her night vision with every rearward look, but it couldn't be helped.
When the car reached the clear ground, it increased its speed and the first hit was on the corner of the tray.
Learned their lesson about the tow bar, Ellie thought sourly, braking then speeding up when the car behind attempted to push her forward. The track had gone, and she was breaking the trail for them, moving more slowly than they needed to. The four-wheel drive sped up a little and she increased her speed to match it, turning sharply to avoid a shallow gully that appeared in front of her, watching as the four-wheel drive veered close to the edge and teetered there before the driver pulled away, the weight and torque of the heavy vehicle dragging them clear.
She caught a glimpse of a line of darkness ahead, but couldn't focus on it, her head snapping forward and back when the car behind them hit the truck again. The world filled with the sickening shriek of metal on metal and the smell of burning rubber as she hit the brakes against the violent push. He was moving up beside her, edging forward, and she knew the next push would be sideways, into one of the shallow washouts, or up against a rock, where she wouldn't be able to get away from them. Slamming her foot on the accelerator, Ellie wrenched the wheel right to force the four-wheel drive away, and didn't see the darkness open up in front of her.
The truck's engine revved suddenly into the silence as they left the ground, and Ellie's attention snapped back to the front, realising the danger of the blackness that yawned in front and below them.
"Hold on!" she shouted to John and Rosie as the truck rolled slowly over, the weight of the engine pulling them nose first downward but the tilt of the slope corkscrewing them as they fell. Above, on the edge of the ravine, she glimpsed the nephilim's car, headlights shining out into the darkness. Then the nose of the pickup hit the side of the slope and wrenched the vehicle over and she was thrown against the driver's side door, the air gone from her lungs with the blow against the steering wheel, Rosie and John's screams filling her ears and they hit again, this time landing on the roof, the weight pulling the pickup down the steep slope and rolling it over again.
I-70 E, Colorado
Dean closed his eyes tightly, his fingers biting into the steering wheel as the prickle became a searing burn... then faded away.
"What?"
"I don't know," he said, lifting a hand gingerly to the back of his neck. "For a second it felt exactly like Montana, then it just disappeared."
Distance, he wondered? How far did his connection to Ellie reach? They'd never even considered testing that. Maybe it wasn't even Ellie who was in trouble. He turned his head, but the nerves there were quiet and still. What the fuck? He looked down at the speedometer, aware the car was slowing.
If he turned around right now, it would be another ten hours to get Winnemucca, and Marcus and the others would have to tackle the goddess on their own. And if something has happened? The voice in his mind asked, taut with anger and fear. If Ellie's in trouble? Or injured? Or the kids are hurt?
He chewed on the edge of his lip, aware Sam and Carl were watching him, waiting for him to decide. If she'd been in danger, the pain wouldn't have disappeared, would it? He didn't know. His stomach knotted with indecision. The ingredients for the spell to send Asase Ya were with them, he couldn't have turned around and left them to it anyway.
"Try Ellie's phone again, Sam," he said, pushing down on the accelerator reluctantly.
Sam dialled and listened, then shook his head. "Still out of range."
He nodded uneasily. They could try again closer to sunrise. She'd said she would home before then. If he still couldn't get her, he could at least leave everything the others needed to do the spell and peel out then. He hoped it would be soon enough. Going strictly on past history, it hadn't before.
CR 793, Nevada
Chasina looked down at the flames licking over the distant wreck at the bottom of the ravine.
"Perfect. We've killed two of the best prospects we had."
"We didn't kill them." Maluch looked at her coldly. "She killed them."
Chasina stared at him, lips compressed, then turned away. It didn't matter. The children of Dean Winchester had been the most promising to complete the circle, the bloodlines of Azazel, Amaros and Araquiel in them, precisely the lines and strength that were needed; young enough to be retrained, old enough to not require the extra effort of reassurances and lies.
She kicked at a rock on the edge, hearing it clattering down into the blackness below. The truck was a diesel; it was unlikely to explode, but the flames had filled the cabin now, lighting up the crushed body and she had no doubt all three had perished. Hopefully before being burned alive or suffocated by the smoke, she thought, a moment's compassion for the children flickering through her mind.
"Mommy," John's voice penetrated her consciousness slowly. Ellie felt his hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes, lifting her arm and wiping at the liquid that seemed to stick her lashes together. Blood, she realised, after a moment. Memory returned, driving her to sit up, stabs of pain in her chest, head and leg advising injuries.
"John? Is Rosie alright?" She twisted around in the seat, trying to see past him to Rosie.
"I think so. She won't wake up," John said, his voice low and uncertain. "I hear her breathing and her heart."
"What about you? Are you hurt? What hurts?" She looked at him, a belated recognition of the flickering light surrounding them adding more worry.
"I bumped my head," John admitted, pointing to the lump that was still rising on the side of his head. "It's okay."
Ellie's heart contracted at his words. His father's son.
"Mom, I think the truck is on fire."
Yeah, it was. The fuel was diesel; it wasn't going to explode, but they still had to get out of here before they were roasted or choked on the smoke. She gestured to John to move back to the corner, checked the SIG was back in her bag and drew the straps over her shoulders. With the roof crushed, it was a tight squeeze between the front seats and by the time she was through, the various aches and pains were clamouring for attention.
She crouched on the floor in front of Rosie, watching her daughter's chest rising and falling steadily for a moment before she unbuckled the belt. Leaning past John, she eased the rear door open, aware of the headlights still shining into the night at the top of the ravine. With any kind of luck at all, the nephilim would think they were dead and leave, but they'd shown no signs of being quick to give up and she couldn't take the chance they would. Luck ran out and it seemed to have deserted them for the immediate future.
"Climb down, John, and get to those rocks," she said. John climbed down onto the ground and moved a few feet from the truck as Ellie turned back to Rosie.
The fire was strengthening in the engine bay, more smoke pouring through the cracked firewall, the smell acrid, burning oil and rubber. Laying her fingers lightly against her daughter's neck, she could feel the pulse beating steadily and strongly against the pads of her fingertips. She lifted one eyelid and then the other. Both pupils were enlarged. Lifting Rosie forward, she slid her fingers through the girl's hair, and found the egg-shaped lump behind and below her ear, maybe from the wing of the car seat. She gathered Rosie's limp form into her arms and slid down the seat and through the open door, dropping onto the ground and heading in a straight line away from the truck so they wouldn't be seen outlined against the firelight, down the gentle slope. John was hiding in the shadows of the rocks and he followed her when she passed him.
In the deeper darkness beyond the wrecked truck, there was a shallow gully leading more or less north. Ellie resettled the backpack over her shoulders.
"John, I need you to stay very close to me," she said. "We're going to go a little bit further, then we can rest."
"'Kay." He took a hold of the hem of her shirt, bunching it in his fist and walked beside her as she kept them to the gully.
"It'll take us hours to get down there," Reuma protested, peering at the steepness of the slope.
"Then it takes hours. We'll check that they are dead before we leave," Maluch said, his tone implacable. "Chasina, you and Lazio fix this car."
He turned on the flashlight, playing the beam over the loose soil and rock at the edge of the ravine, and began to pick his way down. Reuma sighed dramatically and turned on her own flashlight, following him slowly. Behind her, she heard Lazio's curses as he tried to get the jack under the car.
Below them, the pickup was burning steadily, a clear beacon in the darkness. Reuma thought they were all dead, leaving only the two Winchester men and the children of Sam Winchester as possible substitutes.
In their search for those of the right bloodlines, they'd discovered a bit about the Winchesters. The family propensity for being in the right place at the right time. Their doggedness over seeing what they'd started through to the bitter end. She wondered how much they knew about their own histories, about the bloodlines and the great wheels of destiny. Probably not much, she thought. Humans had a very limited capacity for knowledge.
The slope was almost three hundred yards and several sections were covered in loose scree, forcing them to traverse the slope for better footing. It was almost two hours later when they reached the bottom, circling the crushed vehicle, the front end low to the ground and pouring smoke and flames. Reuma walked up behind Maluch as he pulled the rear door open.
No charred bodies rested on the blackened seats. Or against the burned carpet on the floor.
Maluch's breath hissed out. "So."
He turned to stare into the pitch darkness of the ravine's floor, his flashlight bobbing and jumping as the tension transferred from his arms to his fingers.
"Not dead." Reuma swept her light around the narrow space. "That's a good thing. They're on foot, and probably injured. We can catch up to them easily in daylight."
"We thought taking her on the road would be easy," he said bitterly. "Look how that turned out."
"On foot, with two small children, there's not much she's going to do," Reuma countered reasonably.
"Go up to the car," he said tersely. "Get our gear and tell Chasina and Lazio to get down here as soon as the car's fixed. Don't forget the satellite phone."
"What?" Reuma looked up at the steep slope they'd just come down. Maluch's expression froze her unvoiced complaint in her throat. She turned back and started to climb.
[Continued in Chapter 15 No Mercy]
