A/N: Phew...this one took a lot of writing. But I think it pays off in the end. As always, I can't thank LovinJackson and Deb enough for thier input and feedback. The enthusiasm you guys show me just make me so happy to write. Thanks guys!! I also have a page now for downloading all my vids, including my fic vids. It's in my bio if you want them. Now...read on!!
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There had been times when Skye had wondered what it would be like to go back to a normal life? No demons, no ghosts, nothing to be afraid of in the dark. It all sounded so nice and so simple in theory. A normal life where Connor would have grown up with his father, gone to kindergarten in a couple of years, then school….like any other child.
But normality seemed to be something neither Connor nor Skye were ever going to be allowed. The father Connor should have had? Turned his back on his son….and was murdered by his own mother for being weak. That should have been the end of the matter, Connor simply growing up like any other single parent child.
Instead, fate had brought Dean and Sam Winchester into their lives…and afterwards, John too.
It was something that Skye would never regret. She had become a part of a new family, Connor gaining a father figure in Dean, an Uncle in Sam. Skye couldn't have asked for better. John had looked after her and Connor during the first days of the world going dark. Skye had felt safe and protected. That was the thing with those Winchesters. They knew how to make you feel as though nothing would get past them to hurt you….
Of course, that wasn't completely true. They weren't superheroes, they weren't invincible. John had been wounded saving Connor, Sam had done unimaginable things in the name of his brother.… and Dean? He had sold his soul to bring Skye back to life again and spare Connor the pain he had known himself, of growing up without a mother.
The Winchesters would do anything for the ones they loved and Skye was no different. She watched helplessly as Gordon Walker tortured the man she loved before her, expecting Dean to hand Sam over to him. As if that would ever happen.
"So…who wants to go first?" Gordon flashed Dean and Skye a lazy smile as he tapped his bloody knife against his temple. Dean was sweating, the strain of his current injuries taking a lot out of the kid, but he was damn stubborn when it came to handing over that brother of his. Gordon wondered how much he could put him through before he would crack? Would he crack? His gaze swept over towards Skye, washing over her and wondering if that right there….was the key to getting though Dean Winchester's armour?
Gordon got up and moved towards Skye, watching her back up against the wall, eyeing his every move like a hawk but being drawn again and again to the blade in his hands.
"Gordon…" Dean warned, his voice tight with pain. "Don't. Skye's got nothing to do with this. You keep saying it's nothing personal….so don't make it anymore than it already is. Back off."
"Tell me where Sam is? And this all ends, Dean….it's that simple."
Skye tensed up as the knife moved towards her face. She turned her head away slowly, pressing against the wall behind her, wishing she could just disappear into the wall itself away from this maniac who cared nothing for who got hurt as long as his personal vendetta was served. The only small measure of comfort she had, was that Connor wasn't in the room to witness this. But even that was only tiniest amount of comfort, because if Gordon was willing to kill her and Dean? There was nothing stopping him murdering a little boy either.
Skye dared a sideways glance at Gordon and saw nothing in his eyes at all. They seemed devoid of any humanity, save for a glint of pure wicked enjoyment. The sick bastard was actually enjoying himself.
"Come on, Dean. Time's a wasting, buddy and this sweet little woman? Is going to start screaming if you don't talk to me." Gordon warned, pressing the tip of the blade to Skye's cheek.
"I don't know where Sam is."
Gordon clucked his tongue at Dean, his knife still held against Skye's cheek, leaving a smear of Dean's blood behind as he dragged it over the surface of her skin, noting that Skye was breathing in shallow, thready breaths that left her trembling as she tried to watch the blade's path.
"Gordon…I swear, I'll fucking kill you if you hurt her. You want to talk about evil sons of bitches? Sam's not the one terrifying children and threatening innocent women with a knife. Maybe you oughta have a real good look in the mirror and see who the real monster is." Dean was quietly moving his hands back and forth, feeling the tape cutting in and tightening as he tried to stretch it. The skin was beginning to chafe and bleed, feeling like a flame was being held against his skin, but giving Dean hope of getting enough blood to make the tape lose it's adhesiveness so he could pull his hands free.
No matter what went down here today, he was going to get Skye and Connor out of there. Dad and Sam had to be looking for them by now. All they had to do was hang on until the cavalry arrived to save the freaking day. All Dean had to do was get Gordon focussed back on him. That wasn't going to be too hard…Dean was a master of pissing people off.
Gordon trailed the knife down Skye's throat, pausing to knick a tiny, shallow cut that welled up with blood. Skye gasped, startled by the sudden pain before she froze, not even daring to take a breath now as the sharp, cold steel of the blade swept over the hollow of her throat and cut through the top button of her shirt.
A tiny whimper slipped from Skye, a tear sliding down one cheek. She ever so slowly turned her head back to look at Dean, careful of the blade against her skin and saw the fury and frustration in his eyes. Skye held his gaze, needing that anchor, that connection to something -- someone -- beyond what was happening to her. She had to have faith in Dean and believe that he would find some way out of them for her. No, not just Skye. For all of them. Because Skye wasn't willing to lose Dean anymore than he was willing to lose her.
Another button was cut off her shirt and Skye felt a chill wash down her spine as the knife slid lower and lower, towards her bra, scraping the soft skin of her cleavage. "Please…I have a little boy. Please, don't do this."
"I'm still waiting, Dean…" Gordon spoke with quiet menace, flicking the blade ever so slightly to catch the skin, leaving another shallow cut on Skye that made her gasp.
" You sick son of bitch!" Dean snarled rattling the chair violently, the tape on his wrists cutting in deeper as he strained against them, praying they'd snap so he could beat Gordon's skull in. "I don't know where Sam is! He's the psychic fucking wonder, you asshole, not me! Why the hell would I give him to you when you're going to kill us anyway? This way I can least hope he'll waste your sorry ass for me."
Gordon rose from the floor and turned on Dean. It was exactly what Dean had wanted and now that he had the son of bitch's attention, he planned on keeping it.
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Missouri had never taken any formal medical training, but years of working with the likes of Bobby Singer and even John Winchester, had forced her to learn the basics of first aid. Somehow she had never quite figured on her high school needlework classes coming in handy like this, but life was funny with what it could throw at you.
The cut across Elise's stomach was shallow enough for a few butterfly plasters to hold it closed. But the stab wound in her shoulder was another story. It was ragged and torn, looking more like a damn tree branch had punched through, than a knife. Missouri had cleaned the wound with antiseptic, constantly murmuring her apologies to Elise in the process. The stitches had been awkward and no doubt extremely painful for Elise, but by the end of the job, Missouri was happy enough that they would hold.
To her credit, the girl had held still like a trooper, barely flinching when Missouri touched the wound. Although Missouri had a cold feeling in her stomach that it was more to do with shock and the brain's desire to shut down, rather than deal with what Elise had been forced to do. She slipped her hand over Elise's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and seeing the shimmer of tears in the girl's eyes. "If you need to cry, sugar, don't you hold it back, you hear? Don't you go feeling you have to play the tough guy around any of us."
Elise gave a barely perceptible nod, tears sneaking past her defences and splashing into her lap.
The whole fight kept playing through her mind, in vivid colour and surround sound, making her feel ill again. Elise didn't think she would ever be able to sleep again, not without seeing Jo's face. Her hands closed into fists in her lap, her finger nails digging into the flesh, leaving half crescents that welled up with blood before Missouri carefully pried her hands open and cleaned the wounds.
"I know I'm not going to be able to say anything to make you feel better, girl. But you did what you had to. You defended yourself and you gave Sam a fighting chance. Don't you go thinking you did anything wrong. Not now, not ever." Missouri said firmly. She wanted to get her hands on Gordon Walker herself and teach the man a thing or two. What the hell had he been thinking? Leading Jo into his twisted way of life? Turning the girl in one of the damn enemy?
Bobby appeared from the bathroom, drying his hands with a towel. "If I need to put anymore ice in that bathtub? I'm gonna have to go into town to see if there's any in the bar…the motel ice machine is empty." It had taken six bags of ice to help cool the water to a level where Sam was no longer having seizures. All the older hunter could hope for now, was that it had been done in time to prevent any brain damage. "Someone needs to sit with Sam while I tend to….the other room."
"I'll sit with him."
They were the first words Elise had spoken since Missouri had brought her into the room. Bobby shared a look with Missouri before he nodded. " Sure, I think that would a good idea. He needs someone to keep him calm and talk to him. You sure you're up for that?"
"I said I'd do it." Elise repeated, throwing Bobby a dark look before she got up and went to the bathroom.
Sam was still submerged as much in the bath as possible, although his long legs had been forced to hang over the end of the tub. Bobby had removed Sam's boots and socks, but left his clothes on him. The wet material would help keep him cooler.
Elise sat down on the chair that had been brought in earlier by Bobby. She placed a hand to Sam's forehead and was relieved to see that he was no longer scorching hot to the touch.
A quiet groan came from Sam before his eyes flickered open. He looked at Elise and for a moment, she was overwhelmed to see him awake….until she saw his pupils still blown wide. "Sam?"
"Jess…what are you doing here? I…I thought you said you had finals to study for? Brad said you were going to be buried in books all weekend." Sam cocked his head to one side, clearly puzzled, his voice slow and thoughtful as though he was having trouble processing anything.
Elise choked back a sob, swallowing it down and making her voice steady before she spoke. "Sam? Sam…it's Elise. Jess isn't here…"
"Elise? Oh….right, Elise! You're in my Theology class, right? With Mr Truden?"
Elise didn't hold back her tears as she took Sam's hand and pressed it to her cheek. "Sam, please…it's me."
The look of complete incomprehension she received from Sam, broke her heart.
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Dean's head snapped to the right as the fist slammed into his jaw, blood spilling from his lip and all the world suddenly becoming painted in shades of grey. His right eye was already swelling shut and it was getting harder to stay awake with each punch, but Gordon hadn't even looked in Skye's direction for the last five minutes and that was what he had been aiming for.
Skye jumped each time Gordon hit Dean, biting down on her lip to stop from screaming. She couldn't just sit here, watching Dean get beaten to death by Gordon. "Alright."
Gordon had hold of Dean by the hair, his head pulled back so far, that Skye could see the muscles in his neck straining. He turned, still keeping his fingers knotted up with Dean's short hair, an expectant, almost pleasant smile on his face. "You say something?"
"Skye…no…"
Skye heard the plea in Dean's voice, the way his words were slurred, moving through lips that no longer moved the way they should. A fire began to build within her. Who the hell this bastard think he was? How dare he threaten her son, hurt the man she loved! Skye didn't like playing the victim, didn't like being scared and she sure as shit wasn't going to cower anymore while Dean played human punching bag. "You want to know what Sam's plans are? I'll tell you."
"I'm listening." Gordon released Dean and folded his arms, watching Skye intently.
"Azazel wanted Sam to rule his armies and be at the front of this coming war…." Skye began.
"Skye, don't…"Dean couldn't focus properly, blood dripping from his mouth as he spoke. Shit, it felt like Gordon had cracked a couple of teeth, the pain would be a bitch until they healed up. Dean was thankful for the blood his father had given him now. It was the healing that was keeping Dean in this fight. Otherwise he would have probably bleed out from the wound Gordon had left in his leg with his knife. His nose felt broken too. That was just one of the things Dean hated about Gordon Walker, the man hit like a fucking freight train. He hissed in pain as Gordon raised one foot and put in down on his injured leg, grinding his heel in.
"And? I'm waiting…" Gordon growled.
"And what?" Skye snapped, her heart clenching at the way Dean was beginning to writhe in agony. Tears rushed down her face, her hands becoming fists as she got to her knees and faced Gordon, spitting out her words angrily. "Sam's going to rule this world. He's going to make it bleed and burn and you? You're not even going to be a bug under his feet, you bastard. That's what Sam's plans are."
Gordon rushed at Skye, driving her back against the wall as he grabbed her by the throat, cutting off her air. "You think this is a game?"
"For…you…maybe…." Skye choked out. Her heart was slamming against her ribs, her gaze locked on Gordon's as she fought to keep her fear in check. "Sucks from….where….I'm standing…"
Seconds ticked by as Skye fought for air, waiting for Gordon to crush her throat completely or snap her neck like a chicken. Her eyes never left his, determined to face her death head on if she had to. Behind Gordon, she could hear Dean, hear him calling her name, calling Gordon a few things she hoped Connor couldn't hear. And the fact she was even thinking of that at this moment? Had Skye wondering if she was becoming hysterical?
The last thing either Skye or Dean expected, was for Gordon to suddenly release her throat and back away, laughing. A deep, mocking belly laugh that fanned the flames of hatred inside Skye as she collapsed to her knees, retching and coughing for air.
Dean tried rocking his chair back and forth, trying to get enough momentum up to shift closer to Skye. He was partly successful, managing to get himself between Skye and Gordon, who had walked away from the pair, taking a cell phone from his pocket. Now that was something he hadn't expected to see. Who the hell was Gordon calling? Reinforcements? God, Dean hoped not. Not until he was loose and able to defend Skye anyway.
"Hey…Skye, you alright, babe?" He had his back to her now, kicking himself for managing to end up in that position. Twisting as far as he could, Dean was just able to see her, still doubled over on the floor, coughing.
"No…but I'll live." Skye ground out, finally sitting up again. Her cuffed arm was causing pain to run all the way through her shoulder and across her back. But Dean was closer now. Close enough for her to reach his hands if she crawled to the full extent of the handcuff. Slipping her free hand into Dean's, a sob broke from her as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
"Can you tear the tape off? My hands are almost numb…" Dean asked quietly, watching Gordon's every move as he dialled a number and waited for the other end to pick up.
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In the bedroom, Connor had been curled up on the bed in a ball, quietly crying for his Mommy and Dee to come and let him out. Everything was so scary now. The bad man had locked the door and he was doing naughty things that was making Mommy cry and Dean say bad words.
Connor didn't understand why this was happening? Why hadn't Poppy come to stop the bad man? Why wasn't 'Leese here?
His Mommy had always said that the bad things wouldn't get him, because Dee and 'Ammy were making them go away. But now the monsters and bad things were hurting his Mommy and Dee and Connor wanted to be brave, but he didn't have Mr Woobie with him.
He sat up slowly, drawing his thumb up to his mouth for comfort, even though Mommy said he was too big now to do that sort of thing. His blue eyes widened as Connor thought about why no one had come to make the monsters go away. They didn't know how to find him!!
Climbing carefully down from the bed, Connor looked at the door again for a moment, then went to the window. It was open just enough for him to get his fingers under and wiggle it up. The window was too high for him to climb out of. Connor looked around the room again, chewing on his thumb before he spotted something he could stand on. It was a small box in the corner. Running over, he pushed the box towards the window, then carefully climbed up on it. Connor knew it could break beneath him. It was one of those boxes Mommys kept hats in and if you stood on it too much, you fell over when the top broke.
With a fair amount of kicking, Connor was able to climb out the window, falling down on the other side and banging his arm. Tears welled up his eyes, his lip quivering as he fought not to cry, cause then the bad man would hear him. Connor didn't know which way to run, which way would take him back to Poppy and 'Leese and 'Ammy.
There was a lot of long, golden grass before him and beyond that, a road. Maybe that would take him to Poppy? His little legs all but flew as Connor ran as fast as he could from the house, needing to find someone to save his Mommy and Dee.
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Bobby had dumped another two bags of ice from a nearby gas station into the bath with Sam, trying to not listen as the kid rambled on about how he had homework due. He was asking for Dean every so often, his voice tired and confused. Every word was scaring Elise more and more, but she hadn't moved from Sam's side. Bobby gave the girl a gentle pat on the shoulder to reassure her. "I know it's hard, but he needs you, okay? That crap in his system has his brains all scrambled right now…"
"Yeah…." Elise said softly, hating the fact that she hadn't heard her name on Sam's lips since the fight with Jo. Right now, Elise would give anything to hear her name, to have Sam look at her with some sort of recognition in his eyes for her, instead of seeing her as a complete stranger. She felt so alone, even with Bobby and Missouri watching out for her. Sam had been the one person who had made her safe since they had started travelling together and now the absence of that, was like being trapped in darkness.
"I've gotta go deal with….well, business." Bobby didn't want to mention Jo's name in front of Elise. But he still needed to get Jo wrapped up and ready to be taken back to Ellen for burial. "You gonna be alright here? Missouri can take over if you need to rest?"
Sam had been lying half conscious in the bath, his hand still burning hot in Elise's hand. It was only the icy cold water that was keeping him from completely overheating. At the mention of Elise leaving, he jerked suddenly, clutching her hand tight and looking at her with wide, glassy eyes. "Don't go. Please. Please….everyone keeps leaving me. Mom, Jess…Dad….Dean. They've all left me and I'm too scared to follow them."
"Shhhhh….shhh, Sam. It's okay." Elise cupped a hand to his face, feeling the heat radiating out, but feeling slightly reassured that it didn't feel as hot as before. "I'm staying right here…it's okay."
Sam nodded, his eyes still unfocussed before they slid shut again and he sank back into the bath again, his hand maintaining it's hold on Elise's. She felt her throat close up as she looked up at Bobby. "I'm fine. You go do what you need to do."
Bobby quietly excused himself from the bathroom and found Missouri out in the other room, fussing about, making beds and obviously trying to keep her mind occupied.
"I'm gonna see to Jo."
"I'll hold the fort here, Bobby. You don't need to tell me." Missouri replied without looking up as she smoothed out another bed spread, picking a feather off it. "Damn that John Winchester, the man's impossible."
Bobby could hear the tension in Missouri's voice and watched as she smoothed out the edges of the feather gently. " He'll be okay, Missouri."
" I know that! Don't you go thinking you have to reassure me, Bobby Singer. I'm too old to worry about that man and his boys. They've given me more than enough grey hairs over the years." Missouri snapped defensively. The chuckle she heard from Bobby told her that he didn't believe a word of it. Again she quietly cursed the Winchesters for making her care about them. "Go on, get your butt out that door before I put my foot up it."
"Yes, ma'am."
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The tinny sound of some stupid pop tune that Bobby was sure he recognised from the radio, greeted him as he opened the door of the motel room and saw Jo lying where she had been left. Not that he had expected to find the girl anywhere else. It still knotted up his stomach to see her like that. Her skin had become ashen now, mottling showing on the underside where the blood
had pooled in her body after death. Stupid kid should have known better, dammit.
That damn pop tune was still playing, the sound of it leading Bobby to a cellphone in Jo's back pocket. He flipped open the phone and answered it. " Yeah?"
"Who is this?"
Bobby's blood ran cold the moment he heard the voice on the other end of the line. "Walker, you son of a bitch…."
"Bobby? Where's Jo Harvelle?"
"Dead. That's where. You sent a fucking green hunter up against Sam Winchester. What the hell did you expect to happen?"
"You've got it wrong, old man. Jo volunteered. She wanted to fight for this world, unlike a traitor like you. How'd you get away?"
" I reasoned with Ellen. Made her see some damn sense after all the crap you fed her. Cut the bullshit, Gordon. You're on your own and I sure as shit wouldn't want to be in your shoes if John Winchester finds you. You've got his family. Now how about your use some of that stuffing you call a brain and tell me where they are?" Bobby demanded, hoping to finally make Gordon see some reason. His hopes were crushed, when the call suddenly ended. " Gordon? Gordon!"
Bobby threw the phone at the wall, shattering it. Looking down at Jo's cold body, he prayed it was the only one he would have to deal with. Somehow, he didn't think there'd be much left of Gordon Walker once John got his hands on him.
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" Just try and work on the edge, see if you can start to peel it." Dean instructed quietly over his shoulder, keeping an eye on Gordon. Whoever he was speaking to on the phone, Dean got the impression that the phone call wasn't going the way Gordon had hoped it would.
Time was running out for them and Dean's hands were still taped together.
"I'm trying to work the edge," Skye hissed in frustration. "It's too slippery." It was hard not to feel sick at the feeling of Dean's blood on her fingers, making them slick, causing the tape to slip and elude her attempts to lift it. Her cuffed arm was all but numb now, twisted at an angle that was seriously locking up her shoulder with pain, the whole joint feeling enflamed and throbbing white hot. Part of her was screaming in her mind to just stop, to move back and take the pressure off her shoulder before it popped out of joint altogether. Skye knew Dean would never judge her if she did, but she would judge herself. This was the one chance they had. Her son was relying on her to get him out of this. Skye wasn't about to let Gordon Walker win and harm her little boy.
" Skye, hurry…" Dean whispered as he caught sight of Gordon pacing in the other room on the phone.
"I'm hurrying…believe me."
Gordon locked eyes with Dean from the other room, dropping the phone from his hand and drawing a Browning automatic from the back of his jeans. He strode towards the pair, his eyes cold and emotionless as he cocked back the hammer on the gun, aiming it.
" Gordon…whoa, whoa, wait! You don't have to do this, dude…listen to me." Dean jerked his hands away from Skye as she scrambled backwards, hitting the wall behind her hard enough to make her bones rattle.
Dean struggled furiously with the tape around his wrists, stretching it, letting it cut in as he see-sawed it back and forth. The pain fuelled him to try harder, and he could feel one hand starting to slide free, slick with fresh dripping blood as Gordon reached Skye.
"NO! Leave her alone…just leave her alone you fuck!" Dean yelled rocking the chair wildly so that it shifted around enough to let him see the pair as he gritted his teeth and straining against the tape on his wrists, the veins on his neck bulging.
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The eastern outskirts of town had proven a bust. John banked to the right, deciding on one last sweep before he moved on. There had been no signs of life, no cars, no lights. The place gave a whole new meaning to a ghost town and John's patience had been shot to hell before he had even started.
Somewhere out there, Gordon Walker had his family. John was sure of that. He'd seen the evidence at the café and with each passing minute. John was becoming more and more desperate to find them.
It was already heading into mid afternoon. John paused for a moment, cursing under his breath as his wings kept him hovering in place. It was like looking for a needle in a fucking haystack. What was John supposed to do to keep the people he loved safe? Fit them with tracking devices so that the next crazy son of a bitch that tried to get their hands on him, was easier to find?
It was at the point of John wanting to take on the Powers That Be, whoever that was…to demand answers. Just storm the pearly fucking gates and demand to see whoever/whatever was in charge. How much more was he supposed to pay? He'd lost the love of his life, had given his own life and burned in Hell for a son that was now doomed to the same fate. John had watched one son become dark, become something he wasn't, driven by grief. And then, John had been forced to feed his other son demon blood to give him life again.
When was it going to stop?
A flicker of gold caught his eye and for a moment, John imagined himself as a kitty hawk or an eagle, hanging on the breeze, waiting for that mouse or rabbit to move and give away it's position.
Only this wasn't a mouse. This wasn't some little rabbit….that flash of gold was his grandson running like some slathering monster was hot on his heels. John rolled over to the right and dived down after the little boy, shaking off the realisation of what he had called Connor before. So what? That kid was his grandson as far as John gave a damn. He would do anything for him and nothing made John prouder than the way Connor would call him Poppy and look to him with such confidence that he could fix everything.
"Connor!" John called as his wings stretched out wide to allow him to land gently a little distance in front of the little boy.
"Poppy!" Connor's tear streaked face lit up like a sunburst, the little boy picking up speed to throw himself into John's arms, hugging him desperately. John could feel how tired Connor was, his chest heaving as he sobbed. Gently easing Connor away so he could look at the little boy, John smoothed hair back out of his eyes. "Where are they, buddy? Where's your Mommy and Dean?"
Connor lifted one arm wearily and pointed back towards the stand of trees John had spotted him running from. He kicked himself for not thinking to expand his search out a little further in that direction. There had to be a farmhouse or something that way. Scooping Connor into his arms and holding him close, John took to the air. As he past the trees, he could see the house in the distance. His wings beat heavily, picking up speed until John was close enough to see Gordon's Camino parked beside the house.
Landing a safe distance from the house, John knelt down and gently placed Connor on the ground before him, his hands on the little boy's shoulders. "Mommy and Dean are in there?"
"Bad man." Connor nodded, his bottom lip quivering as plump tears cut a path down his little dirt stained cheeks. "Bad man hurting them. Mommy crying . Poppy 'ave them? Make bad man go 'way?"
John ruffled Connor hair and gave him a tight smile, his anger burning inside into a molten fury that he wanted to open up on Gordon Walker with. " I promise, dude. The bad man is going to go away for good. Okay?"
"'Kay…" Connor nodded, his eyes expressing the implicit trust he had in John.
" Connor, was Sam with them? Does the bad man have Sam and Elise in there too?" John's chest tightened when he saw Connor shake his head, looking slightly puzzled. Damn it. If Gordon didn't have them…where the hell were they? Did that mean they were safe? John forced himself to push that aside. He had to get Dean and Skye out of there…then he could work on finding Sam and Elise.
"Alright, Connor, I need you to listen to me, dude. I want you to stay right, okay? Right in this spot. Don't you move a muscle. You sit here and stay really quiet until I come back for you. Okay? Can you do that for me, dude?"
Connor nodded solemnly, reminding John of Dean so much that it made his heart ache. He knew exactly why Dean had made the sacrifice he had. What had driven his son…and John was determined to make sure that Connor got back both Skye and Dean. The kid was not going to feel that same sense of loss that followed Dean and Sam all their lives. John gave Connor's shoulder a squeeze, then paused to remove his watch. He handed it to Connor. "Hey…think you can keep this safe for me until I come get you? If you can do that? I'll get you a watch all of your own….what do you say?"
"Yeah!" Connor gave a shaky smile, looking a lot braver than the little boy obviously felt. John looked around the field he was about to leave Connor in. Damn it, he couldn't abandon Connor here all alone. Maybe he could get him back to town and then get back here without losing too much time? At least he would know Connor was safe with Bobby and Missouri….
A gunshot rang out across the field from the farm house, making Connor jump and clutch at John in terror.
"Shit. Connor. Stay here. Right here. Don't move. I'll be back. Stay right here." John ordered, his words clipped and tight as the marine in him instantly surfaced in the face of danger. He launched into the air, keeping low but covering as much ground as he could, as fast as he could….praying he wasn't too late.
xxxXXXxxx
Gordon's face was cold and full of hate as he cocked back the hammer of the gun and placed it to Skye's head. All he had to do was pull the trigger and the wall behind her would be awash with her brains. A life for a life. That was fair, right?
Sam Winchester had killed Jo, Gordon was sure of that. He'd underestimated just how much the kid had turned…and Jo had paid with her life. It was a mistake that Gordon would never make again but right now? All he wanted to do was make the Winchesters suffer the way Ellen would suffer when he told her about her daughter. The way the world was suffering now that all those demons had been let loose.
The way Skye shrank away, her eyes wide with fear, glassy with tears; it gave Gordon a rush. He loved the feeling of being in complete control of this woman's life….and more than that? He loved hearing Dean's furious, desperate shouting behind him. The only thing that could make this any better? Was if it was Sam's head he had the muzzle of his gun pressed to. Pulling the trigger on that filth? Was Gordon's ultimate goal still.
"Please….." Skye hated that she had been reduced to this, to begging for her life. She wanted to spit in Gordon's face, not cower before him. Skye was terrified that she was about to die, that her little boy would be next. Part of her screamed inside to go out fighting, to tell this piece of shit just what she thought of him, but her bravado evaporated in the face of a cold, harsh reality of a gun bring held against her temple. Had she come back just to die anyway? Had Dean sold his soul for nothing at all? How the hell was that fair? Connor had been safe before…that had been one small mercy Skye could have kept with her in the afterlife. Knowing that her son was safe and alive.
Now that was anything but true and Skye hated this man before her for taking that away. "Just let my son go. Please. That's all I'm asking. You want to kill me? I can't stop you….but don't hurt my little boy."
Gordon pressed the gun harder against Skye's head, a grin spreading across his lips like cancer, slow and diseased as he heard her sharp inhalation of breath. "I told you before….I'm not a monster…" The gun was suddenly removed from Skye's head and lowered as Gordon pulled the trigger. A bullet tore through her thigh, a scream erupting from Skye as she arched back in agony.
Dean was sure he felt something snap like a rubber band in his wrist as he broke free of the duct tape holding his hands behind him. The length of time he had been restrained, his arms robbed of crucial blood flow, meant that his movements were telegraphed as Dean brought his hands around in front.
Gordon was already turning, having realised that Dean was breaking free. The gun was up, aiming for Dean's chest as Gordon pulled the trigger again. Dean was moving with arms that felt like that belonged to someone else as he knocked the gun away as it fired, feeling the bullet punch through his shoulder instead of his heart. It stole the air from his lungs for a moment, everything seeming to slow down to half speed, the pain so intense in his shoulder it felt almost icy cold at first.
"Dean!" Skye had her free hand pressed to the bleeding wound on her thigh, trying to staunch the crimson pool that was seeping through her fingers. She couldn't understand why Gordon hadn't pulled the trigger while the gun was at her head? Did he want her to bleed to death instead? It was possible she supposed….nice and slow, immense pain. Gordon seemed like enough of a twisted bastard to want things that way.
Unfortunately, Skye didn't have to wait long for her answer…..it wasn't about her suffering at all.
Dean had his eyes closed for a moment, breathing harshly through his nose to take his mind off the pain. Helping him choke it down and deal, cause he had to. Skye was shot. He had to get her out of here. Dean had sold his damn soul to put his family back together after the fucking demon had tried to tear it apart and there was no way he was losing it now, to the likes of Gordon Walker. Dean could still recall the cold horror he had felt as Gordon recounted the way he had killed his sister when she had become a vampire. Cold, disconnected from any feeling other than revenge. Gordon had seen her as a monster, when he was the real one.
There was nothing in this world that could have made Dean kill Sam. Even when they had faced off in that church and Dean thought his brother had become evil, had stolen Skye from him….Dean wanted to save his brother. Because that was just it….Sam was his brother. Whether he had demon blood in him or not. Whether he was supposed to lead the Demon's armies or the world itself…he was still Sammy and Dean loved him. It was the difference between Dean and hunters like Gordon Walker.
Pain. White hot. Like a thermal nuclear explosion, like a supernova….blossomed in Dean's shoulder so fast that all thought stopped and he gasped, his eyes snapping open in shock and sheer agony. He reached up, trying to pry Gordon off. His hands and arms were still numb, ineffectual against someone who could press down with all his body weight.
Gordon had his thumb pressing on Dean's bullet wound, digging in, tearing the skin, pushing the bullet in deeper still it struck bone. Sweat beaded on Dean's brow as he growled, fighting the need to scream, not daring to give Gordon the satisfaction.
"You can't hold it in forever, Dean. Beg me. Beg for your life. Beg for the bitch's life."
"Fuck you!" Dean spat, his eyes a brilliant green as they stared defiantly into Gordon's. "The only bitch in this room is you, Gordon. Or would that be….son of a-?"
Gordon dug his thumb in deeper, watching the pain fill Dean's eyes as the younger hunter sucked in a breath sharply, biting down on his bottom lip and sending a thin rivulet of blood down to his chin before it formed a fat droplet that spattered on Dean's lap.
"That was my mother you're talking about…"
"No shit, Sherlock." Dean hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm sure she's real proud to see you working your way up the list on America's Most Wanted there, Gordon."
"Yeah? Well my Momma's still alive to see it, Dean. How's yours doing?"
"Just fine. She's watching over me all the time…." Dean ground out, a tight grin on his face covering the pain he felt at the mention of Mary.
"You really believe that? After what you and your brother have done? You're scum, Dean…you…your brother. That thing you call your father. You're no better than what you let out of those Hell Gates…and it's hunters like me that are going to save this world now. We haven't become what we hunted. Haven't changed sides like you." Gordon snarled. He brought his gun up and pressed it to Dean's lips. " Open up."
"Get fucked." Dean growled, keeping his jaw clenched, his teeth gritted.
Gordon moved faster than Dean had anticipated, pistol whipping him with the gun in the right temple, stunning him. Dean's vision suddenly became a snowy picture of bad TV reception, blood running down from a gash on the side of his head and dripping from his jaw line. There were fingers grabbing at his bottom jaw, pulling his mouth open, making him gag. Acting on pure instinct, Dean bit down and bit down hard, blood filling his mouth as he took off the top off one of Gordon's fingers and spat it out with contempt.
The second blow to his head almost stole Dean's consciousness. His head lolled back, the fight leaving him as he struggled to even get his eyes open again.
Gordon had his bleeding hand jammed under his other arm, swearing furiously against the pain. He couldn't believe that Dean had taken the tip of his fucking finger off! Looking over at Skye, he saw her draw back against the wall, her eyes flickering between him and Dean.
Still nursing his bleeding hand, Gordon lifted the gun and pressed it against Dean's lips. "Open up."
"N.No…" Dean rolled his head away, his eyes not quite focussed anymore as they looked around the room. Over against the wall, Skye fought back a sob that was crawling up her throat. Dean was hurting and she couldn't do anything but watch this unfold before her.
Gordon grabbed Dean's hair and pushed the gun hard enough against Dean's lips it felt as though it was going to break his teeth. "Open the fuck up or I'll put a bullet through her head, Dean! She lives or dies right now….your choice."
That was all it took. If there was choice to be made here, Dean had already made it the night before when he gave his soul to some demon bitch with a sulphurous perfume and a more pleasant disposition than Gordon would ever have. He opened his mouth, not resisting the cold hard cylinder as it forced it's way in so far he thought he would choke. Somehow, Dean didn't think that would be a problem shortly. A bullet would take out the back of his head and he would be burning in Hell a year earlier than he had expected to be.
The cold, almost clinical click of the hammer as it was pulled back, had Skye holding her breath.
Dean let his gaze drift to Skye, taking in her face, wishing he could remove the fear and pain, the tears in her eyes. He could have never guessed in a million years that he would have fallen for a woman like her. It was weird really. Waiting for Gordon to pull the trigger, Dean didn't see his life flash before his eyes like some movie clip. But he did recall moments that would stay with him, even in Hell, because Dean would never let them go.
That first morning, waking up in Skye's lap….the moment he realised how much he wanted what she could offer. A normal life, a family….
Seeing his father with wings, the smiles that Connor had only for him….the bike race in some looted Walmart in Denver with Dean having a moment to taste what it would be like to be a father…
Getting Sam back and seeing his brother slowly open up to Elise. Driving to Southern Wyoming with his brother and father by his side while he raced to save the woman he loved.
Dean would never say he'd had a perfect life and it sure as hell had given him more pain and heart ache than anyone should ever suffer. But the good times were so pure, so strong for Dean. He didn't want to lose them, dammit. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live so badly. To see what else was around corner and share it with these people he loved.
" I love you…" Skye managed to say without her voice betraying her. She held his gaze even as her vision blurred with tears. It wasn't right!
A single tear welled up in his eyes and slid out of the corner of one eye, past his ear to be lost in his hair as he heard the trigger slowly drawing back, Gordon's eyes gleaming with an almost inhuman look of triumph…..before the hammer clicked hollowly.
Skye gasped for air, a broken sob tearing from her as she fought to comprehend what had happened. The gun hadn't fired? Was this another of Gordon's tricks?
Gordon looked at the gun in surprise and confusion, before he pulled the trigger again.
Dean caught a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of one eye, just for the briefest moment before it was gone again.
Click! The hammer struck hollowly again…..
A set of kind, loving eyes drew Dean's attention, before they faded again the next instant. Leaving Dean with a strange sense of calm.
Click! Another misfire.
Gordon couldn't understand why it was happening, why the gun was simply refusing to fire. He wrenched it out of Dean's mouth, ignoring the cry of pain it elicited. With a snarl of anger, Gordon threw the gun across the room and looked on in shock as it fired the instant it hit the floor. The bullet shattered a lamp, making both Dean and Skye jump.
Then another sound filled the air. The sound of wings before the front screen door was torn from it's hinges and disappeared.
Gordon backed away from Dean, turning towards the new threat, his eyes widening as he properly took in for the first time, the sight of John Winchester, winged half demon.
John's eyes were all but black, his wings shuddering with rage and anticipation. He looked at the scene before him, noting the blood on Dean, unable to shake the image he had witnessed through the door, of a gun in Dean's mouth. Skye was looking bloodied and battered too.
The anger in John was like a basket of snakes, roiling and sliding through his veins as he stepped into the house and looked at Gordon. " That's my boy, you bastard. My blood…. My FUCKING SON!"
The house shook with John's voice and for the first time, Gordon felt fear spark inside him. He tried to shrug it off and slid his hand into his pocket, reaching for the one back up weapon he had brought with him to deal with John. Something the half demon bastard would never see coming.
Dean shook his head, trying to clear his vision as he saw his father there looking some sort of pissed off arc angel. Dad had found them? How the hell had he found them? Dean suddenly wanted to laugh, momentarily overwhelmed by his emotions. It was almost as if he'd stepped back in time suddenly, back to the days when he hunted with his father. A punk kid that obeyed orders and made his first real kill when he was sixteen. A loyal son who had believed with his heart and soul that his father would always be there to protect him….until the Demon took that from him. Until Dad gave his life for Dean and left him broken, no one to fall back on as he struggled to save Sam from that Yellow Eyed Bastard.
But that was the past. Dad has proven time and time again that his family came first, giving his life, his blood, even those crazy ass wings he now carried….to keep the ones he loved safe. And here he was again, face to face with Gordon. As juvenile as it was, Dean wanted to yell out to Gordon that he was well and truly fucked now.
"Dean?" It was a question in the form of a single word, John's gaze never leaving Gordon, his guard up still. John needed to know Dean's current status before he proceeded, needed to hear from his own lips, that his boy was alright…before he tore Gordon apart with his bare hands.
"We're okay. Watch your back."
John picked up everything in that sentence. Dean was hurting, Skye was hurting. But they would be alright….
"Never thought you'd change sides, John." Gordon spat, his hand still in his pocket, secure with his unseen weapon.
"Gordon? Shut the fuck up." John snapped irritably. " Stop painting yourself as some freaking saviour of the known world. You're a murdering son of bitch who's morals are so fucked up you couldn't see straight on a clear day."
Gordon laughed for a moment, before his smile dissolved into a cold, emotionless mask. "You know? I'd be insulted if that wasn't coming from a mongrel demon bastard. " His hand slid out of the pocket, holding a long silver pen gun that fired a moment later.
John felt the impact in his chest and was forced to take a step back. A red blossoming rose of blood was growing through his shirt and John all but snarled at how it stung. "That's it?"
"Give it time, flyboy….holy water, ground up communion host and pure rock salt…that's got to be a bitch once that's in your veins." Gordon explained smugly. " A nasty bitch of a mixture I've been using for a while now."
John looked back down at the wound again, feeling the acid hot burn crawling out across his chest, his heart beating faster, a sweat breaking out on his skin. It was already beginning to sap his strength. It was moving out from the wound like the poison in a snake bite. If John had been able to rest and maybe draw the bullet out of his body, he would have been alright…but there was no chance of that happening. John had to move now, had to take down Gordon while he was capable of doing so.
Gordon let the one shot pen gun drop to the floor and took a knife out from his belt, swapping it from one hand to the other as he crouched and signalled John to come at him.
Coiling his body back like a cobra ready to strike, John's wings tucked in behind him, out of harms way as he dived forward in a heavy tackle that took Gordon around the waist. He felt the bite of the blade in his right side, a growl of pain tearing from him before the pair hit the ground hard and tumbled in a wild flurry of punches and blows.
Dean had regained feeling in his arms at last, although the pain that was pulsating from his shoulder was making him wish he hadn't. His wrists too were a mess, torn and bloody where the tape had chafed and lacerated the skin, leaving them sticky with blood. But now that he had his hands free, Dean was able to lean down and tear the tape off his feet, leaving his chair as soon as he could move and rushing to Skye's side. She was looking pale, too pale for Dean's liking. "Let me look, babe. Come on…"
Gently pulling Skye's hand away from her bullet wound, Dean was briefly relieved to see that the wound didn't immediately begin pumping blood again. Her jeans were soaked, but as he carefully moved her leg, grimacing at the hiss of pain he heard from Skye, he could see the exit wound. Gordon's shot hadn't caught an artery although the bleeding was still a problem.
"You're going to be okay, Skye." Dean promised, tearing away the bottom of his shirt and looping it around her leg, tying off the wound as best he could.
Skye slid her free arm around Dean and hugged him close, burying her face in his shoulder and closing her eyes. A tremble ran through her body as Dean slid his arms around her too. They'd come too damn close and even now it wasn't over. Behind them, Gordon and John were still fighting.
"I'll find something to open that cuff. Hang on." Dean cupped a hand to Skye's cheek for a moment, his gut clenching at the bruising that was marring her skin. God, he wanted Gordon to pay for that. The lamp that had been shattered earlier, had a wire frame holding the lampshade on. Dean went over to it, working a strand of wire back and forth furiously, his attention torn between watching his father fighting and making sure Skye was alright.
John was kicked in the stomach by Gordon, who used both feet to push the winged hunter off him. John should have been thrown backwards, but his wings snapped out to halt his backward momentum and Gordon barely had time to sit up, before John dived forward again. Both men were bloodied and bruised across their faces from exchanging punches and with each passing minute, John could feel his body succumbing to the poison within it. His muscles were contracting, his veins burning with a liquid heat that was now moving down each arm from his chest. His side was wet with his blood too, making his shirt cling to him.
This fight had to end. John didn't have time to keep fucking around with this waste of a human being. His body wasn't going to last at this rate.
Gordon brought the knife up, aiming to plunge it through John's throat, when it's arc was blocked by John's hand. A shocked scream of pain exploded from Gordon as his wrist was suddenly twisted with the sound of a wet branch breaking. It flopped uselessly, the knife tumbling to the ground where John kicked it away.
Blood was starting to slide up John's throat and he spat, tasting a mixture of copper and sulphur on his lips that warned him he was running out of time.
John grabbed Gordon by the shirt and lifted him up, snapping a series of hard, piston-like punches that broke the black hunter's nose, his cheek, opened up a cut above one eye. John knew he was supposed to stop, some part of his subconscious aware that he was bathing his wedding ring, that sacred connection to Mary, in this bastard's blood. But John also knew that Mary would have never tolerated this asshole hurting her son, either. Mary was a fierce fighter for her family, as much as John had ever been.
Gordon's eyes were glazed when John finally stopped. Well, one eye was anyway. The other had closed up, one side of Gordon's face so badly beaten, it would never recover. But even so, a sound rattled up through his bloody lips, shaking his body.
It took John a moment to realise that the son of a bitch was laughing. What the hell was he laughing about?
Gordon's one remaining hand pawed drunkenly at his shirt, pulling it aside to reveal a device strapped to his body. But not just a device, there was a row of eight sticks of gelignite strapped around Gordon's midriff. How the hell had John missed that? He was slipping in his old age, that was for sure. His time as a hunter, crossing paths with so many weapons suppliers over the years that were ex-military, gave him a working knowledge of some explosives. John knew a deadman's switch when he saw one and although this was a little more hi-tech than John would have ever thought Gordon could build, there was no mistaking it's purpose.
Gordon was dying. His heart was slowing down with each beat, shock and the battering he had taken at John's hands setting off a chain of events that could now longer be stopped. "I…..win…"
The words were slurred and soft, but John heard them. The moment that deadman's switch registered that Gordon's pulse was gone, it would detonate. Looking up to Dean and Skye, he saw Dean was still picking the cuffs, both of them nursing leg wounds that would slow them down.
John stood up, thinking he could grab both Skye and Dean, use his wings to get them out of there. His legs gave out from under him, dumping John on his ass, the room spinning wildly. Damn it…not now. There was no time.
"Dad!" Dean was suddenly behind John, pulling him away from Gordon before he appeared in John's vision, crouched in front of him, trying to ascertain if his father was alright. "Hey! Hey, you okay?"
" No time. Bomb…there's a fucking bomb, Dean. Get out."
"A what?" The blood drained from Dean's face. He whipped around, seeing Gordon lying a few feet away, shuddering as his breath became more laboured. The sticks of gelignite were in clear view now. "Holy shit…"
John lurched to his feet, grabbing Dean by the shoulders and pushing him towards Skye. "Get out of here, now, Dean!"
"What?" Dean hesitated, realising his father wasn't moving to follow him.
"DEAN!!" Skye was frantically picking at the cuff, trying to unlock it. She had no idea where Connor was. All she could recall was that Gordon had thrown him in that bedroom. Skye had to get to him, had to get him to safety. The cuff suddenly opened and fell away, Skye trying to get to her feet, her injured leg sliding out from under her as the seconds ticked by.
There was only one play to be made. John could see that. He'd done his time in Nam, had lost a lot of good friends to mines. Had watched good men get opened up like a tin of corned beef by a grenade they'd thrown themselves on. That much gelignite? Was going to level this whole house.
With one last push on Dean's shoulder's towards Skye, John made his move. He grabbed Gordon by the arm and a leg, drawing on every last ounce of strength his body to muster, the adrenaline coming to his aid and lending him the desperate strength he needed as he lifted the dying hunter and hurled him across the room, into the stone fireplace that sat against one wall. It would absorb some of the blast as John then pivoted and threw himself at Dean and Skye.
The room shattered as the bomb exploded, fire bellowing out with a cloud of debris and smoke.
John had already been on the move, tackling Dean and Skye, forcing them both to the ground, shielding them with his wings as everything collapsed around them, burying them all in rubble……
xxxXXXxxxx
A/N2: Yes, it's another cliffhanger. LOL It wouldn't be me otherwise, would it?? I'm already working on the next chapter...you won't have to wait long. ;)