Many, many thanks to all my readers, and especially Msnancydrew who is my most wonderful beta!
"The boogeyman?" Concha repeated, not sure she'd heard correctly the first eight times Dean had said it. "You mean to say the demon you were chasing is a damn faerie tale?"
"The troll was real." Dean mumbled, Sam grinned and shrugged.
"I thought you hated the troll." Her gaze shifted from one to the other.
Sam shrugged, looking all of an innocent nine-year old, "It was still real."
"True." Concha had to concede that point.
"We found its energy source too." When Sam switched to his excited about research mode, Concha couldn't help noticing the warm smile that made the corners of Dean's eyes crinkle at the tone of Sam's voice. Crossing the room in a few long strides (Concha had the idle thought she hoped she never had to chase down Sam Winchester, his legs were twice as long as hers, she'd definitely need her horse to run him to ground), Sam had a few books spread across the kitchen table in no time. "Weather, storms, the thing is more active during large weather events, at least when it first moves in. Dean caught onto that pattern." Sam straightened and smiled, huffed a laugh, "And here I thought when Bobby said there was a storm coming he was talking metaphorically. There's a second pattern, the one that put Craven onto it in the first place. People start seeing this thing as children. They become victims, and then grow up to become molesters, rapists, murderers….sexual predators…" Sam's voice trailed off, his gaze shifted for the briefest instant to Dean, then down to the table. The smile slid from his face, the excitement left his eyes and voice.
Dean crossed the small kitchen, map in hand. He stopped next to Sam, close enough his elbow bumped into Sam's side. "We're headed here in a day or two, think that might be the best place to pick up its trail next." He pointed to a spot along the southern eastern seaboard of the United States.
"Um…Dean….honey, you're not the only one headed there, so is Hurricane Willa, supposed to be category four at least by the time it makes land fall."
"Energy source." Dean gave her a crooked grin, lifted one shoulder, hand following to his hip and let them drop.
Concha looked from one to the other. "You two are insane. You do know that, right?" She laughed a minute later when they looked at one another, then nodded. "Whatever. And on that note, I have a question."
"What?" Sam asked glancing at Dean; no doubt the not so subtle change in her tone caused the look that passed between them.
Not sure exactly how to ask, she decided to jump right in. "Who is Steve Wandall and why do friends of his want to find you? Find you really badly?" She was looking directly at Sam now.
His breath caught, his weight shifted, putting him closer to Dean. He looked at his brother, at an obvious loss for words. "He's…I…"
"When Sam was possessed he met up with that guy." Dean cut in. Concha knew the glare he aimed at her was a warning he'd not endanger Sam in anyway, for anyone. She could take a real good guess at to what 'met up with that guy' and 'Sam possessed' added up to.
Moving away, leaning against the counter so she could see them both Concha drew in a deep breath before continuing. "They wanted information, to know where you might be. So I aimed them at Illinois. They were here in New York, farther upstate. Trailing you, mostly they asked about Sam, but I think they wanted both of you."
"But they're going to find out you lied, they'll know—" Sam's voice was soft, worried.
Concha couldn't help the smile, "Yes they will, which is why I aimed them straight at Dante. I'll meet him there. I'm sure he'll make them see the error of their ways, Dante can be quite persuasive. Geezz, we keep this up the jails will be full of hunters."
Dean barked a short, totally devoid of humor laugh, and why did Concha have the feeling he thought otherwise? He offered her a completely sobered, honest, grateful expression. "Thank you." One hand slipped onto Sam's shoulder, "Guess we'd better get things packed up and ready to hit the road."
Leaving them to their preparations Concha had to get driving, she'd promised Dante she'd be in Illinois, help him find the men who'd she'd given the wrong information about the Winchester brothers to. Having no idea what they'd do when they found these hunters, Concha knew it was only a matter of time before other hunters realized her and Dante's connection to Dean and Sam. Then they'd all be in the same proverbial boat. Well there wasn't much she could do about it now. Lines were being drawn, sides being chosen. The only piece Concha was missing was why.
It was late at night when she stopped, she'd meet Dante the following day in Illinois, hopefully he would have already picked up the trail of the three men wanting Sam Winchester dead so badly. She had plenty of time to consider why it seemed so important that Dean be bested by so many hunters. She understood these men tracking Sam might not have realized he'd been possessed, but surely when the whole story was laid out for them they'd understand. The other piece of the puzzle, that for some reason Sam thought he'd become something evil she found simply ludicrous. The men in Wyoming had wanted him gone because of some demon connection, and now these guys. They had it wrong, he couldn't call them, not willingly anyway, and couldn't use them. She'd have to start working on a way to make that clear to these clowns. To hunters in general. Possibly being the only person, in this part of the world at least, with the resources to reach the vast majority of hunters that task was going to fall on her shoulders. Problem was she didn't understand a great deal, there were gaps the Winchesters weren't willing to share, at least not for now. It would be several years yet before Sam would have the access and training she did. Then possibly him being a threat would be viewed by others as silly an idea as it was by her.
For now staying alive in a dangerous underground community was priority one. The rest they'd work out as it came.
Getting lost twice the following day, Concha finally pulled into a fairly good sized resort type place, in the middle of which was a private lake. In the warmer summer months she supposed there were canoes, and water skiing and fishing. This was late October however and now there were few camp fires dotting the lake shores. Deer hunting season was about to begin, the only people here now were late season campers, early arrivals for deer hunting, and hunters of another sort. There was small one and two room cabins spaced at regular intervals around the lake. Dante had rented them a two room cabin for the week, his rented pickup was parked behind it. She'd missed her brother desperately and couldn't wait to see him, catch up with him. It just wasn't the same talking to him on the phone four times a day.
The sight greeting her when she entered the cabin stopped any thoughts of pleasant, mindless conversation and caused about a zillion questions, doubts and worries to push all else from her brain.
The man was preparing for a hunt. Or a war…a big war.
"What's all this?" She picked up a silencer, looked it over and returned it to its spot on the table. Dante had several guns, sniper sights, the silencer and a collection of knives spread out. There was no sight of holy water, rosemary, salt of any sort or anything else they'd use to hunt something supernatural. This was a human hunt. Dante barely glanced up at her before returning to loading his belt with extra ammo, knife sheaths. He looked like a soldier going to war.
"There is a hunting lodge a few miles from here; they're on their way there. They think Dean and Sam are holed up there." First one pistol, then a second was loaded and holstered.
"You talked to them already?"
Dante nodded. He continued packing things…weapons up, some going into his pockets. "I shouldn't have waited for you."
"They know he was possessed, right?"
"It doesn't matter. What matters is, as far as they're concerned Sam slit their friend's throat. Not some demon, Sam." He stopped, turned to face her, meeting her eyes for the first time.
"But they're hunters, they of all people should understand possessed!"
"Yes, Concha they should. But they don't. They've got no proof, other than the word of the man who is Sam's brother, who they don't know. Why should they believe him? And when they figure out you sent them the wrong way on purpose, why should they believe us?"
"But Sam wouldn't—"
"You know what Concha, you know…and I know that kid couldn't just slit someone's throat, but they don't know that! They don't care why, just that he did." Dante was shouting.
"I thought we'd just get them locked up, like we've done before."
"People can write letters and make phone calls from prison, hell they have the goddamn internet there. Think they won't just put someone else on it, and then it will be you too they're after. Then what happens?" He stopped, stared at her for a moment before continuing in a voice barely above a whisper. "Just what did you think I did in Iraq?"
"I didn't really…that's a war! It's different."
"So is this." Dante bellowed, making her cringe, step back a pace. "I should have had this done before you got here."
Concha wished he had. She wished she could have remained blissfully ignorant for the rest of her life.
"But," He sighed heavily, "There are three of them, I might need help tracking them if they separate."
Not particularly wishing to be involved, and at the same time refusing to leave her brother to do this alone Concha trailed behind him to her jeep. They loaded their gear in the back, Concha drove to Dante's directions. Even though the hunting lodge was only a few miles away, they had to take back roads, then back track to a point they could conceal their vehicle and still have clear view of the lodge. Dante had been there the day before in anticipation of the hunters chasing the Winchesters. He'd planted some items, making it look as if someone was staying in the lodge. They could see someone had been about, though just now it was deserted. As Dante predicted, the three men showed up, checking the lodge again, thinking they'd eventually find Dean and Sam there. While they didn't completely leave the cover of the woods, they set themselves up nearby to monitor the building. They were watching for the brothers, unaware Dante and Concha watched them.
"Phone on vibrate?" Dante whispered without turning to look at her. She crouched a foot or so behind him.
"Yes." Concha's eyes were fixed on her brother's back. He was tense, alert, focused and somehow not quite the man she'd known all her life. This was the guy who went to war, the guy she'd never met. The guy she'd never wanted to meet. The guy she had to take and accept along with the one who was really her brother.
"Go back to the jeep, I'll call you if I need you." His voice was empty and cold. He shouldered his rifle, setting aim.
"But—"
"Now." Dante hissed between clenched teeth, she saw how his jaw line went white. This wasn't open for debate.
Blowing a breath from behind her own clenched teeth Concha jerked to her feet, without another word stalked away. As soon as she was into the woods far enough he wouldn't see she started to run and didn't stop until she was next to her jeep. Sliding down to the ground beside it, leaning against the far side Concha let the threatening tears slip free. She didn't wipe them away at first, there was no one to see. Having no idea how much time passed before the barely audible footfalls crunched the ground, coming closer she quickly quieted her breathing, wiped her face. Pushing to her feet, she realized a split second too late those footsteps weren't familiar in any way shape or form.
Dante was going to kill her for this screw up.
Concha couldn't stop the gasp escaping from her as a thick arm wound around her shoulders from behind, and a cold blade pressed to her throat.
"Whose that picking off my friends, Dean Winchester? Where's Sam? Never mind, I'll find the freak. Think I'll just leave them a little message."
The deep male voice didn't give her a chance to answer, pressed the knife blade in. Her throat was going to split open like Wandall's had. Only difference was, this guy had picked on the wrong girl. This girl had reflexes and defenses.
Concha used them.
First the knife spun out of the man's hands, coming to a halt in a nearby tree, embedded nearly to the hilt. The handle jiggled up and down a bit, vibrating from the force of impact. He made the mistake of turning his attention to his errant weapon. Concha twisted away from him, giving him a very healthy mental shove away from her. He lifted off the ground a foot and flung away, headed for the same tree as his knife. Stunned, but not out, the instant he hit he rolled to his feet, pulled his knife free and charged her, roaring, "BITCH!!!!" Some guys just didn't like women who fought back.
Before Concha could react, Dante appeared, coming out of the woods like some vengeful woodland creature. In one fluid, powerful move he grabbed the guy by the neck. Concha heard the snap. When Dante released his hold on the man, he fell to the ground, dead at her brother's feet. Dead by her brother's hands.
Brother and sister stood, dead man between them staring first down at him, then at each other. Concha barely had time to process the events before Dante was coming at her fast. Grabbing her arm, he shoved her into the jeep.
"I'll come back and take care of this." His voice was rough and odd, a tone she'd never heard before.
Letting him load her into the jeep they drove back to their cabin in silence. Dante had to get rid of his clothes, they had blood on them, not hers, not his. He'd left them in a pile on the floor of his room while he showered. He told her he'd go back, get the bodies together, salt and burn them. The last thing they wanted was the vengeful spirits of hunters lurking about. Why he stopped to shower and change first she wasn't sure, or maybe she was. Concha slipped into the room, gathered the clothes and was back out again before he heard her. It was getting dark when she added his soiled clothes to the supplies in the back of the jeep.
It was completely dark by the time she'd returned to the spot her jeep had been parked, the man's body still where it'd fallen. Lucky her, she could move a body without actually touching it. The thought made her smile ruefully, as she moved through the woods, body in tow, salt in hand. The other two were in front of the lodge. Dante, she suddenly realized had risked so much by getting her away from there before dealing with these. Bodies stacked together, she emptied the entire bag of salt onto them. A glance at the sky Concha smiled a real heartfelt smile. The tears were real too.
Orion was rising, Orion the hunter, chaser away of all things evil.
Sides were chosen, lines were drawn.
A flick of her wrist sent a line of white hot flame to the bodies, igniting a small inferno in seconds. Another minute the lodge would catch, and hopefully not too much of the woods before the fire could be extinguished. But three bodies would not be found.
One final glance at the clear night sky before Concha turned and walked back to her jeep.