Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews and favorites, you guys are awesome! P.S. Guest, whoever you are, thanks for calling me on my editing or lack there of. I fixed it! Let me know if you guys see any more issues. I should also mention that the inspiration for Father O'Bannon came from Robert Carlyle's character in The Tournament.
Playlist for the Chapter: Wild Thing by The Troggs, Legs by ZZ Top, Come Thou Fount- Irish Hymnal Version, Stop Stop Stop by the Hollies.
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Lisa Gains Ground
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The wadded up t-shirt hit Lisa square in the head, jolting her from a delicious REM cycle into the steel grey of a cold New Hampshire morning.
"Rise and shine!" Sarah was ungodly cheerful, which may or may not have had something to do with the steaming paper cup full of coffee in her hand.
"I hate you," Lisa mumbled into her pillow. "We got in last night at 2AM. It's-"
"Ten o'clock in the morning," Sarah interrupted. "And I'm starving. Get your butt out of bed."
"You have no right to be so chipper," Lisa complained. "You actually got a nap last night."
"And I'm very grateful you gave me a break and drove the truck," Sarah replied, "But it's been fourteen hours since Garth called, and you've slept for eight of them."
Lisa rolled out of bed and grabbed for her jeans which had been tossed in a pile on the floor. Her t-shirt was still clean enough that she didn't need to swap it out for a fresh one, and once she'd raked her fingers through her hair a few times she was ready to go.
"I sincerely hope you aren't catching Garth's weird cheerfulness disease," Lisa joked, reaching for the coffee.
Sarah gave it to her, an shrugged. "So what? It's nice to be around someone with a positive outlook on life, especially with what we deal with on a daily basis. Garth is a breath of fresh air."
She had a point. "Alright," Lisa said, walking around to the vehicles. The Harley and the truck waited side by side in the motel parking lot. Like Lisa and Sarah, the motorcycle and the Dodge made an odd pair. "Which ride are we taking?" Lisa continued.
Sarah threw back her head and took a deep breath of the fresh morning air. "Motorcycle," she decided. "It smells too good this morning to be cooped up in a truck."
Lisa laughed, and handed Sarah her helmet. "I won't argue with that."
.x.
Dean watched the oil filter out of the Impala and into the drain pan. The old girl was putting on the years, but still running just as good as the day John Winchester brought her home. Dean ran his hand fondly along the Impala's shiny silver grill. The car had picked up a dent the other day, and it had taken him almost an entire morning to pull the grill off, hammer it out, and then re-spray it with chrome finish.
His cell phone rang. Dean wiped his greasy fingers on his dirty jeans and answered it.
"Hey Dean!" Garth was still ungodly chipper. "I need a favor."
"Little busy here Garth. What's up?"
"One of my Hunters has a demon problem I can't fix. Was wondering if you and Sam would be able to meet up with her and her partner. I have them in northern New Hampshire right now."
"Her?" Dean asked, perking up. "It's a chick?"
"Lady," Garth corrected. "Tough as nails. You'd like her. She's the one who took out the Hoodoo Queen of New Orleans. Cut her head off with a sword like a terminator ninja assassin in that anamee stuff you like."
"Anime," Dean corrected absently, still watching the oil drain out of his car. "I heard about the Louisiana job, it was a good hit. Salome was a pain in the ass for years. Is your Hunter chick hot?"
"Dean!" Garth said, exasperated. "Mind out of the gutter. She's a good Hunter, and she needs help that I can't give….But yeah, she is hot. Fantastic legs, if you're gonna make me admit it. Her partner is hot too, if that would get you motivated into helping. You and Sam have the resources and the experience- "
"Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on grandpa," Dean interrupted. "Where do you need us?"
.x.
In the end, the eleven dollars that they had between them forced them into a McDonald's rather than an actual restaurant. Lisa rolled the motorcycle up to the curb and killed the engine. Sarah sprang off and moseyed into the fast food joint, leaving Lisa to stage the bike and pull off her scarf and aviator glasses.
Lisa stretched, cracking her knuckles to get rid of some of the tension from the drive. It was quiet and peaceful. The sleepy summer town seemed cut straight out of a Washington Irving novel. The tranquility was a balm for Lisa's nerves. Ben would have loved it here, she realized with a pang. So many places to explore.
A slight rattling of a bottle on concrete from an alley across the street jolted her from her reverie.
The hair raised on the back of her neck. Lisa glanced at the door to the McDonald's. It was probably nothing, but it would be dumb to go charging off without letting Sarah know what she was doing. She pulled out her phone and sent her a quick text.
Alley across the street, gonna poke around.
Lisa glanced up and down the street. There were very few people out enjoying the morning, and the ones that were out were paying no attention to her. She bent and pulled one of her kukri knives from her boot. Keeping the blade hidden close to her thigh, she strode into the alley. The alley itself was pretty nondescript. The sun cut over the tops of the buildings, throwing the alley into a dim shade. The alley was empty except for a large rusted green dumpster with a pile of trash and clothes next to it. The glass coke bottle that had made the noise was lying innocently in the middle of the alley. Lisa stared at it, then shrugged.
She was just about to leave when the pile of clothes coughed and moved.
Lisa realized with a sudden chill it was a young girl, not a pile of garbage at all. Her short blond hair was shoved up under a tight knit hipster cap and she was wrapped in a grubby brown men's carhartt jacket that was too big for her. Lisa guessed that the girl couldn't be older than her late teens or early twenties. She was obviously very malnourished. Her skin had a sickly chalky pallor, her eyelids were sunken deep into her sockets, and the hollows of her cheeks were horribly pronounced. Lisa could probably count the individual bones in the girl's exposed hand if she'd care to try.
The mom in her screamed at her to do something, unable to let a child suffer. Lisa squatted, intending to wake the kid up and buy her at least some breakfast and a cup of hot coffee. She reached out a hand.
Suddenly the girl's eyes popped open, stark fear distorting her pretty face. Her brown eyes flashed from a light coffee color to burning yellow with slitted pupils, and before Lisa could say or do anything, the girl had darted off to the end of the alley and hopped over the low chain link fence. She was way too limber to be anything but supernatural.
Lisa crouched there, stunned. The girl wasn't human, that much was obvious, but she'd looked at Lisa with naked terror. The girl had also had ample time to rip out Lisa's throat as she'd bent over her, but she hadn't. It was the first time a monster hadn't outright attacked her. Her phone buzzed. Probably Sarah wondering what the hell was going out. Lisa debated what to do. The Hunter wanted to go after the girl before she could hurt anyone. The mom wanted to do something about the blatant starvation.
It only took her a second for the mother to win out over the Hunter and she headed back across the street to the McDonald's, counting the change in her pocket as she went.
Fifteen minutes later she was back in the alley, setting a bag full of cheeseburgers on the closed lid of the dumpster along with a steaming cup of coffee.
Lisa thought she saw a flash of yellow in the dark beyond the fence, but she moved calmly. She pulled out one of the cheeseburgers and took a bite, washing it down with a small sip of coffee, all to show that what she'd brought was not tampered with in any way. Lisa wasn't sure that the girl had pegged her as a Hunter, but she felt it would be better to be careful.
She offered the darkness a smile, then turned and walked back to where Sarah was waiting by the motorcycle. No breakfast today, but at least it went to someone that needed it more than she did.
"You can have half of my breakfast biscuit," Sarah offered, holding out a waxy wrapper containing a ham and egg biscuit slathered in processed cheese.
"Thanks," Lisa said gratefully.
"Know what she was?" Sarah asked, obviously having seen the exchange across the road.
Lisa shrugged. "Dunno. She wasn't human, but she didn't attack me either. She could have, but she didn't."
"I'll check your journal after we meet up with Father O'Bannon," Sarah said thoughtfully. "She's probably harmless if she didn't try to hurt you, but it's better to be safe than sorry."
"Alright, fair enough." Lisa wadded up her garbage and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. She straddled the Harley and waited while Sarah shoved on her helmet.
"Where am I going?" Lisa asked.
"St. George's Irish Roman Catholic Church," Sarah answered. "Google Maps said it's a big white thing with a steeple, we can't miss it. It should be just up the street on the right."
"Oki doki."
They rolled out, unaware of a pair of yellow eyes burning into their backs until they disappeared.
.x.
The church of St. George was a beautiful building made of pale stone with enormous stained glass windows. A thin older man in a clerical habit waited out front. He had dark circles under his eyes, and longish mousy brown hair. Combined with the day's worth of stubble on his chin, he looked very rumpled. Lisa unashamedly parked in the clergy parking, not in the mood to walk any farther than she had to.
He smiled when he saw them, relief evident in grey eyes.
"My name is Father Patrick O'Bannon," he said, shaking both of their hands. A light Irish lilt marked his speech. "Thank you for coming. I honestly didn't know what to expect, but Garth assured me he'd send someone to take care of it."
Lisa cocked her head, sudden worry over her fugitive situation rearing its ugly head. "How did you know to contact Garth?"
Father O'Bannon smiled slightly. "He answered an anonymous Craigslist ad I posted."
"Garth didn't give us much to go on," Sarah said. "You should start at the beginning. Tell us everything."
"Yes." Father O'Bannon nodded, and motioned them inside. "I put the kettle on, and there's biscuits. This may take a while, unfortunately, so I should make you comfortable."
Fifteen minutes later the three of them were seated around a small Formica table in a cramped kitchen behind the baptistery. Father O'Bannon rooted through a tin with Celtic knots painted on its chipping surface.
"I have Earl Grey, Green Tea, Oolong, Chamomile, Lemon Mint, and Rooibos."
"I'll have the lemon, please." Sarah said.
Lisa leaned forward, peering into the box. "What kind of green do you have?"
Father O'Bannon considered. "I have Gyokuro and Lung Ching."
Lisa smiled and held out her mug of hot water. "The Dragonwell would be lovely."
"You know your teas," Father O'Bannon said approvingly, handing her a tea strainer filled with the Lung Ching.
"I used to be a yoga instructor," Lisa said, by way of explanation.
"So," Sarah said, after she'd stirred her tea and taken a small sip. "What happened?"
Father O'Bannon stirred his own tea, suddenly looking very tired. "It dates back to a family curse, I think. The O'Bannons came over many years ago on a ship from Ireland. Bad luck had plagued us since before my ancestors left Ireland. They thought coming to America would be a new start. It's tradition in my family to go into the Church, so when the O'Donovan family came to the US in the early 1900's, we started a church here. It's called St. Hubert's Cathedral, up in the mountains. Very small. Until recently it was more of a family legend. I found record of it in the church registry last month, though, and I thought of it standing lonely all of those years. So I organized a church expedition to go up and clean it out, but-"
He stopped, and a small sob choked his throat. Lisa laid a hand on his arm sympathetically. "What happened?" she asked gently.
Father O'Bannon took a deep, shuddering breath, visibly collecting himself.
"We started with little things, cleaning up brush, but-" he hesitated, collected himself, and continued. "My grandmother told me stories of a monster that would follow our family and keep us from ever being successful, which is why we always became members of the clergy to keep it at bay. I never believed it, but- It, it couldn't come onto the church ground itself, but it hunted us when we made a run for it. I was the only one that made it out. I lost nine members of my congregation, and I can't even tell their families, because a monster did it."
"Did you see what it looked like?" Sarah asked tentatively. "It would help us a lot to have as much information as possible."
"A wolf," he replied, "that's what it looked like at first. Great big yellow eyes. It followed us up the trail, not attacking at first. We were at the church for a good three hours, and it just watched us. I thought perhaps someone had been feeding it, and I was planning on calling the forest service and telling them about it, but none of our phones were getting through."
Yellow eyes? Lisa felt a chill snake up her spine. Had she made a terrible mistake in letting the girl outside the McDonald's go? She felt ill that her soft heartedness might have gotten people killed.
"It was when we left the church that things changed. The light was fading and it was getting dark. It- it started picking us off one by one as we went down the trail. We were single file. I didn't know what was happening until Annie screamed. We panicked and ran, and I looked back- it wasn't a wolf anymore. It stilled looked canine, but it was made of black smoke and fire. The rest of them died instantly, and the- that thing followed me all the way back to the cars. It followed me back here. I haven't left the church since."
Silence followed this. Lisa chewed her lip, thinking. She and Sarah hadn't seen anything on their way to the church, but they hadn't been looking for anything either. She glanced at Sarah, who was frowning, probably going back over their trip to see if she remembered anything out of the ordinary.
"It sounds like you're safe here," said Sarah. "We're going to leave and look around, do some research and find out what we're dealing with."
Father O'Bannon looked distressed. "You don't know what it is?"
Lisa shook her head and finished off the last of her tea. "It could be any number of things. We need to know as much as possible before we go diving in."
Father O'Bannon nodded reluctantly, still looking faintly ill. "Okay."
Lisa laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "Don't worry, we'll figure this out," she told him.
.x.
An hour later, Lisa and Sarah sat hunched over Lisa's journal in a Bagel and Coffee house, trying to figure what attacked the members of St. George's Church.
"Here's one," Sarah said, jabbing a finger at one of Garth's entries. "Daeva. Made of shadows and they attack by ripping people to shreds."
"The picture Garth scribbled looks mostly humanoid, though," Lisa said. "O'Bannon said it looked like a dog. Though it may just be Garth's bad drawing."
"Oh!" Sarah nearly sprayed bagel and coffee everywhere. "We are so dumb, I can't believe we haven't thought of it!"
"Thought of what?" Lisa asked, perplexed.
Sarah didn't answer but rifled furiously through the journal. "Here!" she said triumphantly.
"Black Dog," Lisa read out. "A ominous death spirit that haunts people, eventually leading them to their doom."
"That's what killed the Father's parishioners, I'm sure of it," Sarah said firmly.
"It would explain why it couldn't come onto holy ground," Lisa replied, thinking.
Sarah nodded. "It didn't have anything to do with the abandoned church at all. That's probably why we didn't think of it sooner. Black Dogs are omens, and O'Bannon mentioned his family had massive runs of bad luck. That thing has probably been following his family for years."
"Garth was rather vague on how to kill it," Lisa said, reading through the entry. "He says that there's no clear recollection of a Hunter surviving contact with one, just heresay, so he recommends trying standard stuff like salt and silver."
"Your kukri knives are made of silver," Sarah said thoughtfully, "I bet if we coated them in a salt solution it would do some damage."
"That will be really bad for the blades," Lisa told her. "I'm taking my sword, just in case."
They paid for their coffee and food, and started walking back to St. George's Church.
"We're not going to keep them submerged in it," Sarah said, laughing, "That would be bad. Just long enough to stab it and see what happens. Anyway, I'm not sure you should bring the sword. We took the motorcycle, and I doubt we can get away with carrying it through town. If we want to go explore the church before dark, we don't have time to go back and get the truck."
Lisa sighed. "Fine, I suppose you're right."
"You just want to take your sharp pointy security blanket with you," Sarah chuckled, "You are way too attached to that sword."
Lisa smiled and rolled her eyes. "You're probably right," she said. Lisa didn't mention that the sword reminded her of blocks of time she was missing, an anchor holding her to someone that had been very important to her. Her amnesia hurt, but having the sword was a comfort. It stood between her and the dark, and never let her forget what she'd lost.
"One other thing," Sarah said, quietly, after a while, kicking a pebble down the street. "I think we should bring the priest with us when we go to kill the Black Dog. The Black Dogs are omens of ill future and death, and this one seems to be after his blood line. I don't think it'll show unless he's with us."
Lisa pinched the bridge of her nose. "I hate the thought of putting a holy man in danger, on purpose. It seems like asking for a lightning bolt or something."
"I don't like it any better than you do, but if we're going to flush this thing out we're going to need him."
"I can't carry the both of you on the motorcycle," Lisa warned.
They'd reached the church. Sarah glanced around at the sparsely populated street, and then reached into her purse. She withdrew her matte black Beretta 9MM and held it out. Lisa took it and shoved it into the back of her jeans.
"You're the better fighter," Sarah continued, "We both know it. He'll be safer with you. I think you should take him, and I'll catch up. I'll go back for the truck and get the rest of our gear."
"You're the better shot!" Lisa protested. "I'm rotten with guns and we both know it."
"Not the machine gun," Sarah said grinning.
Lisa snorted and rolled her eyes. "That's because it sprays bullets. You'd have to be a moron to miss."
"Whatever," Sarah said, "Get the priest and hurry. You don't want to face that thing in the dark. I'll be there as fast as I can."
"Alrighty."
Lisa headed up into the church, pulling her tee-shirt down over the butt of the gun. She didn't know how she'd convince O'Bannon to come with her, especially since she'd essentially be using him as bait.
Sarah's footsteps faded away at a dead run. It was nearly four miles back to the truck. It would take Sarah at least half an hour to reach it. Until then Lisa would have to hold the Black Dog off, or kill it before it could reach Father O'Bannon.
She took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy doors to the church. It was not a pretty package she would be selling.
.x.
Dean parked the Impala at a curb outside a diner in the tiny New Hampshire town Garth had directed him to.
"You gonna be okay Sam?" he asked.
Sam cracked open an eye, then closed it and grunted. "Go away Dean. You're hovering again."
"Whatever." Dean got out of the car, then bent and peered in at his little brother. "You need anything Samantha, gimme a yell. I got my phone on."
"You're getting lunch. I seriously doubt I'm going to drop dead in the fifteen minutes it takes you to buy your stupid pie."
The roar of a motorcycle interrupted Dean's retort. He glanced up to see one of the weirdest things of his career, and he'd seen some strange shit as a Hunter.
A fierce looking woman on a gleaming white motorcycle came tearing up the street. Her short shaggy dark hair blew back behind her, and the red scarf she had tied around her face was plastered to her skin by the wind. Her pitiless aviators hid whatever expression she might have had. A skinny man in a clerical robe wearing a terrified expression held her tight around the middle, obviously holding on for dear life.
Dean watched them disappear up the street, and then shook his head. "Weird."
"You don't see that every day," Sam agreed.
"Sounds like a porno: the priest and the biker," Dean laughed. He slapped his hand on the roof of the car. "Alright Sammy, hang tight. I'll be right back."
.x.
Lisa felt Father O'Bannon's arms squeeze her tighter as she took a hard corner, motorcycle almost bent completely over, foot pegs just barely about to graze the ground. The poor man was terrified and she felt sick because it was about to get worse. Soon Lisa's motorcycle was going to be the least of his problems.
It was the car that caught her attention first.
The muscle car sat at the curb outside a diner like a hulking monster, with chrome lined eyes and a shiny black hide. She noticed the driver next. He was bent over, talking to a passenger, and Lisa couldn't help but notice that he had a fabulous ass.
Lisa almost wished she wasn't about to take on killer death poodle that would probably result in some kind of dismemberment on her part. Lisa had stopped the whole 'one night stand' thing after she got pregnant with Ben, but she could see herself breaking that rule for Mr. Muscle Car With the Amazing Butt. He glanced up at her and his hazel green eyes sent a weird, familiarly delicious chill through her.
A second late he was out of sight, and Lisa reluctantly put him from her mind.
O'Bannon had mentioned that the trail up the mountain was virtually overrun, that was only accessible by dirt bike or on foot. The motorcycle was a street bike, and definitely not built for off-roading. She wasn't sure if she should risk taking the Harley to the church. If she got into trouble, there was no way to turn around.
Lisa parked at the foot of the mountain and idled the engine. The trail didn't actually look that bad, very overgrown with weeds and over hanging trees.
"How far is the church?" she called.
"Twelve miles," he yelled back, voice muffled by Sarah's helmet.
That settled things. They'd never make it on foot before the sun set, and in the dark they would be easy pickings for the Black Dog.
"Any fallen trees or huge rocks I should know about?"
"Please don't do what I think you're going to do," he pleaded.
"If we go on foot we're dead," Lisa snapped. "I don't think you want to be dead. That's not why we're doing this. Any road blocks that you can remember?"
"Lord I can't believe I'm saying this- no, just weeds. The trail stays packed for the most part. If-if you keep your speed up, I think we can do it."
Sorry June, Lisa thought, apologetically. The Harley was about to suffer the worst beating she'd ever put it through. "Hold on!" she told Father O'Bannon.
The poor man whimpered, but he held her tight and didn't complain.
Lisa put the bike into first and opened the throttle. The Harley roared, spitting rocks and dirt in a wide arc. Lisa sent the motorcycle bouncing up the trail, praying that she wasn't making a horrible decision that would get the both of them killed.
The trail was steep and fairly rocky, but Lisa kept them going fast enough that they careened over obstacles without spinning out.
Every now and then she caught flashes of darkness in the trees and brush, yellow eyes that followed their progress up the mountain. She didn't pay much attention to the Black Dog though. It would make its move when it was ready and it was taking all her concentration just to keep them motorcycle under control. Her eyes began flicking down to glance at the speedometer every few minutes as the numbers slowly ticked by. They were close, so very close.
Just when she was starting to believe that they might actually make it, the sun finally set, setting the woods aflame with red light. A second later a streak of black slammed into the motorcycle. Lisa lost control of the bike and it flipped onto its side, sending Father O'Bannon off into the bushes and pinning Lisa underneath.
The Harley's hot engine and tailpipe was flush up against Lisa's thigh's and legs, and she thanked her lucky stars that June had given her leather chaps. Even then Lisa could feel her skin starting to sizzle. She wriggled, trying to get out from under the heavy motorcycle.
Then she heard Father O'Bannon scream and a deep, unearthly growl follow. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.
Lisa shoved away the pain of her burning skin and squashed limbs and stopped trying to get free. Instead she twisted, struggling to see the priest.
O'Bannon was struggling to crawl away from the Black Dog. Lisa's heart froze in her chest. The thing was massive, almost the size of a small car. It was boiling with black smoke and flame with glowing eyes and fangs.
The Black Dog had the priest by the habit and was slowly dragging him out of the bushes.
Lisa jammed her hand into the back of her pants, withdrawing Sarah's gun. She flicked off the safety and fired. Normally she was a terrible shot but the Black Dog was only a few yards away from where she lay. It was impossible to miss at that distance.
She shot the Black Dog several times in its ugly face, only stopping when she ran out of bullets. The Black Dog recoiled, snarling and snapping at her.
"Run!" Lisa screamed.
Instead, Father O'Bannon climbed to his feet and stumbled towards her, throwing his shoulder against the overturned motorcycle. He was able to lift it just enough for Lisa to claw herself free. The Black Dog had, meanwhile, shaken off the fleeting pain of the bullets and rushed them. Lisa pulled one of her kukri knives free of her boot and threw it. The knife embedded itself in the meat of the Black Dog's shoulder. The monster howled, spraying bits of phosphorescent drool everywhere that sizzled when it struck the ground.
Great, Lisa thought. Of course the giant glowing rage poodle would have acid spit. Awesome.
"Get up!" O'Bannon helped her heave her to her feet. The idiot wasn't running. Why wasn't he leaving her?
Lisa half limped and half ran as they made their way to the old church, pushing herself to keep moving.
She wasn't fast enough. Sharp teeth sank into the back of Lisa's calf, just above her boots, and she fell flat on her face with a bone jarring crash, nearly dragging O'Bannon down with her. White hot agony exploded up her leg. Lisa screamed.
O'Bannon shouted something, and she knew then she was going to die.
I love you, Ben. Oh my son, my son!
Just as she anticipated those vicious fangs in her throat, though, there was a low animalistic growl and the Black Dog was abruptly ripped away from her. Lisa rolled to her feet, clumsily grabbing for her other kukri knife, and thanked her lucky stars that she had more than one knife, and that someone intervened. Her mouth dropped open in surprise.
The girl from the alley was back. She was missing her bulky coat and her face was no longer that of an average looking college girl, but a monster. Her spine was hunched and elongated, and her limbs seemed long and canine even to Lisa's wavering vision. Her teeth had thickened and sharpened, resulting in thick drool slathered fangs. The girl's eyes, twin yellow moons in her thin face, and they shone with a starved madness. She snarled, the Black Dog snarled back, and the two monsters crashed together in a confusing blur of claws and teeth.
Lisa did her best to follow what was going on, but she was having trouble focusing. She could barely feel the priest's skinny arms around her waist, holding her up. They swayed together. He didn't have enough strength to hold her up and Lisa fell. The priest dropped to his knees next to her, just barely keeping her face from eating the dirt.
There was a low guttural snarl followed by a sharp yip.
The two supernatural combatants broke apart briefly. The girl was bleeding badly, but the Black Dog was leaking a thick runny fluorescent ichor from a gaping hole the girl had torn in its neck. Lisa struggled heavily to her knees. The Black Dog had hit something important in the back of her leg, probably an artery; she was hemorrhaging blood fast. Her head began to feel light and nausea churned in her gut. She was going to bleed out in minutes.
Lisa clumsily squeezed Father O'Bannon's arm. "Thanks for coming back for me," she said, barely able to get her voice above a whisper.
He replied but she couldn't hear him over the roaring in her ears.
The girl snarled at the Black Dog and the sound sent shivers crawling up Lisa's spine, but she had a feeling that it was just posturing. The both of them were extremely bad off. Lisa had a brief second to decide what to do- she only had the one knife. Her other kukri was at the bottom of a ravine somewhere. She couldn't see it on the monster anymore. The Black Dog would definitely kill her if she let it live, the girl- well, at least one of them could walk out of this alive. The girl, whatever she was, probably wouldn't hurt the priest if she was trying so hard to save them.
"The enemy of my enemy," Lisa mumbled, and threw.
The kukri knife spun, flashing silver in the dying red light of the sun, and buried itself in the Black Dog's already wounded neck. Lisa watched it fall, and her eyes met the girl's over the bloodstained clearing and the body of the Black Dog. Then Lisa passed out and let the darkness roll over her like a comforting wave.
.x.
Lisa came to lying on the dirty stone floor of the church in a pool of her own blood. Father O'Bannon, Sarah, and the girl were all bent over her wearing varying degrees of worry and fear. They all breathed a collective sigh of relief when they saw Lisa's eyes open.
"Oh thank goodness," Sarah said, dropping her face into her hands. "I thought you were dead."
Lisa slowly sat up, wiping her hands off on the bloodstained fabric of her jeans. Her chaps had been cut off of her. "I should be dead," she said slowly. "I lost too much blood."
"Well," Father O'Bannon said lightly, "It appears that the Lord answered my prayers. It also probably helps that I was a trauma surgeon before I left the army for seminary to become a priest, and your friend Sarah happened to bring along a nicely stocked medical kit. That, and your leather pants, saved your life. The teeth didn't puncture as deep as they should have."
"Thanks," Lisa said. She still couldn't quite believe that she'd dodged such a cosmic bullet. She should be dead. She knew she should be dead.
"I'm glad you're okay," the nameless girl broke in.
"Thanks for saving us," Lisa said, gratefully. "We would have all died if it weren't for you."
The girl still looked afraid and ready to bolt, but she smiled. "My name is Kate."
Lisa held out a bloody hand and the girl shook it. "Under the circumstances I am very glad to meet you," Lisa said, returning the smile.
Sarah held out a hand, and she and O'Bannon slowly helped Lisa hobble to her feet.
"The damage wasn't extensive," the priest said, "But I advise you to not do anything strenuous for a while. I had to stitch you up but good."
"Thanks," Lisa said again. She could still hardly believe she was alive.
Kate cleared her throat awkwardly. "I, uh, I should be going."
"Why did you save us?" Lisa asked suddenly. "The Black Dog wasn't your problem."
Kate twisted her hands together, unable to look any of them in the eye. "You gave me food. That was the first time I'd eaten in days. You fed me even though you knew I wasn't human, and you were a Hunter. I could smell the salt and gun oil on you, so I knew what you were. I wanted to return the favor."
Lisa glanced at Sarah, who nodded. "I think we should talk," Lisa said quietly.
Kate looked terrified at the very thought but she followed Lisa outside. Lisa slowly lowered herself to sit on the stone steps of the church with a groan. Kate awkwardly perched next to her, obviously ready to bolt. Poor thing. The mom in Lisa was back with a vengeance now that the danger was over. Lisa put an arm around Kate's shoulder. The girl stiffened briefly, but then she slumped.
"How long have you been on your own?" Lisa asked.
"A while," Kate answered, staring up at the night sky. "I got turned into this- this thing. I'm a werewolf," she clarified, seeing Lisa's confused face. "I've been running ever since."
" So have I. I'm not saying Sarah and me are a replacement for your family, or your mom, or anything, but if you want a place to stay you have it," Lisa said quietly. "Come with us."
Kate sniffled and smiled slightly. "I've been watching you. You and Sarah both smell like that truck, and shitty hotel rooms. That's not much of a life if you ask me."
Lisa grinned. "I'm not going to lie. Being with us won't be exactly Disneyland, but I can guarantee it's better than drifting by yourself. What do you say?"
Kate looked unsure. "I'm not- you know I'm not human. I could lose control…I could hurt people. That's why I left home, left school. I didn't want to be a monster."
Lisa squeezed her shoulder. "I can't promise that it'll be okay. I don't know what will happen, life is fickle like that. I do know, however, that there's nothing wrong with having friends. Having people in your corner. Sarah and I will take care of you."
Kate's eyes went suspiciously glassy and she rubbed at them with the back of her hand. "Thanks," she mumbled. "I'd like that."
Father O'Bannon had been lurking near the door, eavesdropping. "I can help with that too," he said.
Lisa and Kate both looked up in surprise.
"How do you mean?" Lisa asked.
O'Bannon looked around the church, running a hand along a stone wall. "There are too many bad memories there, and I don't intend to keep it. This place is holy ground and your need of it is greater than mine. I'll give you the deed to the land. It sounds like it has been too long since you have had a safe harbor to call home."
Lisa took it, suddenly feeling the burn of tears at the corner of her eyes. "Thank you!"
"That church needs someone to care for it. It will help you weather the storm that's to come," the priest said quietly.
Lisa ran a hand over the stone of the steps, still warm from the sun. St. Hubert's church was a squat, hulking two story building made of dark weather beaten stone, and it resembled medieval castle more than a conventional church. Two round towers sat on either side of the square building while a stone steeple rose up from the roof between them. It was beautiful in a wild gothic sort of way but it felt solid, safe.
She smiled. Home.
.x.
"Garth sent us a package through Father O'Bannon," Sarah said, waving a white FedEx box a few days later.
Lisa looked up from where she'd been trying to wire a fuse box to a generator. An electrician's manual sat open on her lap. Slowly but surely Lisa, Sarah, and Kate were cleaning out St. Hubert's and turning it from an abandoned wreck into something resembling a home. It was slow going, but Kate's werewolf strength and endurance helped a lot. Kate had picked up Lisa's motorcycle out of the bushes and carried it up the trail like it was nothing. Surprisingly the Harley had survived its encounter with the Black Dog, suffering only a few dings on the tailpipe and some scratches in the white paint.
Sarah plopped down on one of the dusty wooden pews next to her.
"That must be the ID's and credit cards and throw away cell phones he said he'd put together for us," Lisa said, setting down her tools to have a look.
"Hopefully," Sarah replied. "I know this life is the right thing to do, but I got to admit I'm tired of living on nickels and dimes. It will be nice to afford better food."
Lisa flipped through the passports and ID's with her photo on them. "Esther Rabban and Sarai Eldad, Hebrew nationals, Azhar Malouf, Arabic, Priya Bakshi from India. Wow, he went exotic."
Sarah laughed. "Well you do look kind of foreign. What's your heritage?"
"I'm Puerto Rican on my mom's side," Lisa said, rolling her eyes. "Garth got carried away."
"Oh well, at least you can be someone else now," Sarah said. "You won't have to worry about looking like Lisa Braeden. It will be harder for the authorities to find you."
"True."
"And," Sarah continued cheerfully, "At least yours sound cool. Mine are all 'Ashley's' and 'Hannah's' and 'Jessica's.' All white bread suburban names."
Lisa chuckled. "I suppose you're right. We're going to have to let Garth know about Kate, though. I have a feeling we'll need ID's for her as well."
Just then Lisa's cell phone rang, a cheerful chime sounding out the first few bars of Bell Biv DeVoe's Poison indicating it was Garth.
"That man chooses weird ringtones," Sarah commented as Lisa answered the phone.
"Hey Garth, what's up?" Lisa asked, still idly flipping through the box of ID's.
"I can't talk long, the Winchesters have me on a job," Garth started. "I just wanted to make sure you got the ID's, and to let you know Dean and Sam are in town."
"Oh?" Lisa said, setting the box down. "What kind of job?"
"You won't believe this," he answered, laughing.
Lisa leaned back, gingerly stretching out her bad leg with a grimace. "Oh yeah? Try me."
"I warned you. Okay. I'm hiding a Prophet of the Lord on my houseboat."
Lisa threw back her head and laughed. "You're right, I don't believe you."
"I know right? Anyway," Garth continued. "I'm busy so I can't act as liaison, but the Winchesters agreed to meet and hear your story."
"What did you tell them?" Lisa asked, "Just out of curiosity."
Sarah had crossed her arms and was watching her intently
"Nothing really," Garth said, "Just that I had a Hunter with a demon problem I couldn't solve. I thought it would help them more if I didn't try to muddle the water."
"Thank you so much, Garth," Lisa said fervently. "For everything. I don't think I can ever repay-"
"Stop right there," he said quietly. "Debts and repaying them are something the monsters do. We're people. We help each other. That's how it works. If there's anything my Hunters need, all they have to do is ask. Gimme a yell and let me know if you need anything else Lisa. Any time."
"You got it," Lisa said, smiling. "Thanks again."
"You're welcome," Garth replied. "Now I gotta go, Dean's yelling about pie and if I don't leave he'll probably start shooting. The Winchesters will be in Pittsburgh on Thursday. You guys can meet up then. I'll text you Dean's cell phone number."
.x.
The tiny new phone buzzed in Lisa's pocket, indicating she had a new text. Lisa pulled it out and smiled in relief. Dean had finally texted her, or rather Sarai, back.
we'll be in the back. Look for the whiny jolly green giant and the hobo tax accountant and the good looking guy.
Lisa smoothed her damp clammy palms on her jeans and slowly hobbled out of Sarah's truck truck. She checked her face in the truck window. Dark circles still sat under her eyes, and she still looked haggard with her thin cheeks and her messy a-line haircut, but a confidence filled her expression that she hadn't noticed before, along with hope.
She stuck her hands in her pockets of her leather jacket, and headed inside the diner.
The bell above her head tinkled. The Winchesters were seated right where Dean said they'd be, across from a scruffy man in a dirty tan trench coat. Lisa smiled. He did look a bit like a tax accountant. A large pie sat on the table with several holes gouged out of it, and the shorter guy and the guy in the trench coat were both digging into it. The short one was really, really cute. Upon closer inspection Lisa saw that it was Mr. Muscle Car With The Amazing Butt. Lisa felt her cheeks turn pink, and she was unable to stop herself from checking out his ass again when he stood up to get more pie.
"What do you think, Cas, peach or apple?"
Oh god, even his voice was hot- a nice scratchy rumble that promised smooth sheets and bare skin.
Lisa supposed that the man in the trench coat was named 'Cas.' Dean reached out and grasped Cas's shoulder, and she sighed in disappointment. Looked like hitting on Dean was out of the question, that touch was way too familiar. They were obviously an item. Oh well. More fish in the sea. She was here on business anyway.
Lisa started forward, opening her mouth to call out, get their attention. Before she could make a sound, though, Cas looked up and saw her.
His gaze, a vivid electric blue the color of a transformer blowing, hit her like a sucker punch and for a moment she was terrified. She had a brief sensation that something inside the man suit he wore was looking back at her. Cas looked right at her and she sensed that he knew exactly who she was, what she had done. All her sins were laid out in front of him; he could see everything. She'd gotten June killed, lost her son to a demon because she'd been too weak to protect him, murdered Salome, and protected a werewolf. His expression was both shock and gentleness, but Lisa felt like she'd been judged and found wanting. Panic shot through her and she couldn't help herself.
Panic blanked out the pain from her still healing leg.
Lisa bolted.
.x.
To be continued…