Author's Note: Hello again everyone. Ready for the next update? Sure ya are! Anywho, don't wanna ramble so here it is. Part 1 of chapter 17. I wanted to fit all the action and stuff in one long chapter but I haven't had time to write more. But, March Break is nearly here and I hope to have this story finished by the end of it. Next update will hopefully be Sunday. Hope you enjoy the chappie and as always leave behind a little review to let me know you were here!
Disclaimer: Okay, I only own Leah. Not Supernatural or the boys. Happy?
Crash Course
By: Babyhilts
Chapter 17:
oh lordy, trouble so hard
oh lordy, trouble so hard,
don't nobody know my troubles but God
don't nobody know my troubles but God
went down the hill, the other day
my soul got happy and stayed all day
Natural Blues--Moby
Murmured voices in the wind; that was all Sam and Dean were now. They weren't very far. Sam had the duffel bag open on the ground in front of himself and his older brother. Their dad's journal was getting tossed from one set of hands to the next. Water stained pages tearing as their fingers flipped viciously through the leather bound book. Newspaper clippings and family photo's fell to the ground but neither boy seemed to notice.
I stood next the newly rebuilt church, running a trembling hand across the rough brick siding. It was definitely real. Part of me was hoping my hand would go right through the moment I went to touch it. A cold chill ran up and down my back. Nothing felt real. All of a sudden things were hitting me and I wasn't liking it; not one bit. Devils? Shotguns with rocksalt?
I looked down at my hands and saw them shaking. One of them still held the handgun.
"Well then college boy you tell me, what are we supposed to do then, huh?"
Dean directed his anger with a powerful kick to the duffel bag. The guns rattled as they rolled towards me. Sam sighed and continued to look through the journal. I watched, quietly lost in my own thoughts as their feet trampled over a photo of the three Winchester men. Dean was stirring in his own frustrations and anger, picking the bag back up and rummaging around inside. Sam was busy reading the chicken scratch their dad had left behind.
The sneaker removed itself from the old Polaroid. Mud and grass created a thick later atop the memories and as I went to remove it from the soiled earth, I felt it wilt in my hands. It was wet and barely together but I held it cautiously in my open palm, letting the air dry the dampened edges. I lightly removed the dirt from the photo, scraping away until three young faces appeared in my hand.
"I think I might have something."
The voice didn't register with me. Not at first anyway. I knew it was Sam's and I heard him shuffling in the grass next to me but that was it. Everything else but the photo I ignored. I cradled their faces, their innocence. I wondered how old they were in it.
"What's this?"
A callused hand brushed against my wrists, pulling them into the light. Dean's attention was on the photo and he stared at it intently, suddenly lost in the memories himself. When he raised his head our eyes locked in with one another. The hazel green squinted through the thickening dark. Apprehension and fear stared back at me but his face was already set in determination. He wore the face of a warrior. I glanced down at the photograph and back up at him and still saw the little boy. There was no difference between the Dean in the photograph and the one that was here now. They were both the same innocent child that sought the truth and tried to protect their little brother. He wasn't so superhuman after all.
"Where did you get this?"
"Fell out of your dad's journal" I whispered. They were the first words I'd spoken in a while. "Here," I went to hand it to him, feeling suddenly so uncomfortable holding the photo.
Dean shook his head. "You keep it for now. It's still wet."
A genuine smile graced his lips for once. I never thought I'd see the day and then, it was gone. He moved towards his younger brother and once again I felt myself zoning out. They were discussing something about Latin protection rituals, running their hands through the book Missouri had given me and arguing in that old familiar Winchester fashion.
The grass stirred around my feet. Clouds drifted across the night sky, covering the moon in a blanket of dark ebony, as if tucking it in for bed. Shadows vanquished from the cemetery. It was now time for their physical counterparts to come out and play. Swallowed in thick black, I felt the photo slip from my hands as I drew the gun against my chest. The lack of moonlight sent me into a panic. I kept quiet for fear that something lurked not far from where I stood; ready to pull me further into the depths of the night. I stumbled forward, disoriented and unsure of where to step.
A burst of yellow light cut through the ebony. I froze, blinded on the spot. The gun shook in my hands as I tried to look past the offending light enough to get off a shot.
"Sam, careful, she's going to shoot you. Lower the damn flashlight."
I heard someone moving through the grass towards me. The light fell to my chest and as the movement increased, I was relieved to see Dean, spotlighted from the flashlight and making his way to my side. He grabbed hold of my arm and pulled me forward without a word.
Sam was waiting with Missouri's book tucked under one arm and the flashlight under the other. Dean relinquished the grip he had on me and moved to take the shotgun he'd left laying on the ground.
"Dean, what's going on?"
"Sammy thinks he found something that may work. It's not a sure thing, but it'll trap the son of a bitch, give us time to kill it."
I nodded, not really understanding and not trying to understand. My nerves were getting the best of me. I couldn't point the gun straight and my legs were getting wobbly.
"Do we even know how to kill it?"
The brothers turned and looked at one another, a silent exchange of words being passed amongst them.
"No, we don't" Sam admitted.
"What? Then why are we still here…"
The wind screeched, tearing through the trees and empty back road. I ran forward, forgetting to be tough and nearly throwing myself at Sam as the weather picked up and the screech became deafening.
Eyes welling up with tears, I knotted my hand in Sam's t-shirt and pulled him close to me. This wasn't fun anymore, I realized as I held onto him for dear life.
"Sam, lets leave."
The trees swayed violently. Dean raised the shotgun, keeping it trained on the church and surrounding area. In the distance I could make out the ominous bang, bang, as the metal gate slammed open and close. My fist tightened around Sam and I pressed myself closer to his chest.
"Please. Sam, please, let's just get out of here."
"Shh, relax Leah…"
"No. We don't have a plan. This is suicide. Come on. Please Sam" I forced him to look at me. "Tell Dean this is stupid. Tell him we'll come back, just please…"
"Will you shut up" Dean grounded out.
He was standing in front of Sam and I, the gun still raised, glancing at me over his shoulder. He tried to look annoyed but the fear shone right through.
"No ones going to die okay…"
I tired to take comfort in Dean's words but I knew he couldn't keep that promise. Not now with everything shot to hell.
Just as the trained hunter turned back to the church, ready to shoot anything that moved, Sam was torn from my arms. His shirt literally ripped from my hands, I cried out as my index and middle finger bent the wrong way and I fell onto my back. The flashlight and book hit the grass where the youngest Winchester had stood moments earlier. The protection suddenly gone, I took up hunter mode once again and drew my gun on the darkness. There was a heavy thud some few feet away from where I was now and I knew that it was Sam's body hitting the earth.
"Sam!" I called out, struggling to my feet and doing my best to aim with my left hand. I turned around, heart thudding heavily beneath my light t-shirt as it pumped the panic and adrenaline through my veins. "Dean?"
For a brief moment our eyes met. The gold flecks sparkled through the encroaching dark, the Winchester grin followed and then he was sailing through the air as if suddenly gravity had decided to take a vacation. His back made contact with one of the church walls. Whatever had thrown him didn't keep him there. He fell forward seconds after, chest hitting the ground he let out a pained moan before his body went completely still.
I stood my ground, whispering his name as I saw the light extinguish from his eyes. I was sure he was dead but then I heard the ragged breathing and saw his back lift up from the ground with every struggled intake of breath.
I prayed Sam was still conscious enough to help me. If he wasn't then I didn't know what I would do. I couldn't read Latin and I sure as hell didn't know a thing about getting rid of a devil.
Picking up the flashlight and book, I made my way to Dean's side. I turned him onto his back, running gentle hands across his neck until I found a pulse. It seemed strong enough but he was definitely not waking up anytime soon.
"Come on Dean" I tapped his cheek hoping that would do some good but he didn't answer. Typical Winchester, I joked but inwardly I was ready to run and leave him there. I wouldn't but God did I want to.
"Shame, isn't it."
The book slipped from my hands as I brought the flashlight and handgun around, directing it at the figure that was now winding its way around the corner of the church. Shakily I got to my feet and took up a fighting stance in front of Dean. A smile curled the devil's lips, parting them enough so that he could let loose a dull chuckle.
"Yep, it really is a shame. Just when you three were starting to get attached."
"Shut it" I yelled.
"Or what, you'll 'bust a cap?' You know that won't do a damn thing to me."
My hands shook violently as I raised the gun higher, pointing it directly at his chest, despite the fact that I knew what he said was true. Part of me wanted to believe that the handgun still offered protection.
"What did you do to Sam?"
"Oh, he's around. Not for very much longer mind you. Of course, none of you will be."
"You seem quite sure of yourself."
"I told you. The Winchesters would die right here in Stull and now you will die along with them."
"Yeah, yeah. I heard the whole ominous 'you're going to die Leah Carlson' speech before, remember?"
"I do believe I already mentioned how tiresome this petty banter becomes" he snarled.
He raised a single hand into the air. Thick and callused, it hung above his head and with a quick flick of his wrist I was shoved back, loosing my footing and tripping over Dean's prone form. The oldest Winchester moaned but did nothing else after.
I dug the heels of my hands into the earth, trying to sit myself back up when I felt a heavy pressure on top my chest. I let out a small umph sound as my back hit the grassy carpet. The pressure increased rapidly. I stared up at the black tapestry, feeling my ribs cave in from the weight. I gasped, searching for fresh air but it never came. The stars danced across the midnight sky as my vision began to blurr.
"For all the trouble I went to in bringing you here" the devil scoffed. "You only created more."
I was sure I could feel each rib, slowly folding in towards my lungs. Soon the bone would puncture a whole through the soft organ and then I knew I'd be dead for sure.
A dull laugh stirred me from the pain. I knew it was his and I did my best to ignore it.
Concentrate on your breathing. In, out, in, out. The mantra played on repeat in my head. Each gasping breath and now new air seemed to enter my body. Tears escaped from the corners of my eyes, running rampant down my cold cheeks. The pressure increased once again and I couldn't help but let out a painful cry as one of my bones made a cracking sound.
"I told you to stay out of this Leah Carlson. I warned you of the consequences."
A single gun shot tore through the night. It was loud enough to reach me through the agony. Dean mumbled something incoherent next to me. The pressure slowly dissipated but the pain still lingered. Greedily I sucked in the air that had been denied to me only seconds before.
I could hear the fast approach of feet sounded somewhere to my right. The urge to run was so strong at that moment. Fear was churning deep within the depths of my stomach. A warm hand latched onto my arm and I let out a terrified cry before doing my best to pull from the hold. It did nothing better than aggravate my ribs. Defeat settled in as the pain caught up with me and I sunk back into the grass, shivering and moaning.
"Leah?"
The voice was soft; comforting really. I opened my eyes and through a thin layer of newly formed tears made out the boyish form of Sam Winchester. He was covered in dirt and grass but he was there nonetheless, and fully unconscious.
"Dean," and with a jerk of my head motioned to his still brother. Sam only nodded and slipped his arm under my neck before sitting me up. I bit back any objections to the movement.
"He'll be fine and awake soon" Sam whispered.
"Where is he?"
I glanced to where the red eye man had been standing and saw nothing but open space.
"Shot him."
"Did it kill him?"
Sam frowned. "No. I think it just startled him. He'll be back. I'm sure of it."
The smooth, confident hands of the young hunter soon found themselves under my thin t-shirt. He raised it to just a few inches below my braw and at first I wanted to protest. This was a hunt not a peep show and really, I wasn't all that comfortable having the well toned young man running his fingers over my little rolls of winter flab which just happened to stay there year round. I went to push the shirt back down but Sam protested, swatting my hands away and continuing his examination.
"What happened?" he asked while prodding my left side.
"I don't know. It was like he was crushing me to death."
He poked his bony, sasquatch fingers into my right side. One rib and then the next until he touched the third and I let loose a surprised yelp.
"You're a little banged up."
"You think" I snapped, pulling the t-shirt back down and pushing him away.
Sam smiled "but, you'll live."