John watched Dean pull out of the parking lot and speed down the street. When Dean had driven out of sight, he turned and slammed his hand against the doorframe to make it look like he was annoyed.
As he re-entered the motel room he barked, "Sam! Get ready! We gotta go."
Sam had been silently observing the exchange between his father and brother. While he realized that the entire altercation had been fabricated for the Aswang's benefit, he inherently wished that at least some of the things his brother had said were true. If only Dean would really stand up to Dad like that. But Dean would never do that. Not for himself anyway.
The only time that Dean ever stood up to Dad was when Dad and Sam were fighting. Then Dean never hesitated to get involved. He would jump right in and place himself between them, confronting Dad every time. He always stopped Dad from carrying out whatever threat or punishment he intended to inflict on Sam. And he did it without a single thought about his own safety.
Sam always wondered what would happen if Dean wasn't able to calm Dad down. Sam knew that Dean would never just back off and let Dad deal with him was he saw fit. No, Dean would probably continue to challenge Dad until Dad was so angry at him that he forgot all about Sam. And then Dean would really be in trouble. And as soon as Dad's anger was redirected towards him, Dean would back down and take whatever punishment Dad dished out.
So far, that scenario had never played out but, with the way the arguments between Sam and Dad had been escalating lately, Sam figured it was bound to happen sooner than later. It wasn't like Sam hadn't told his brother not to get involved – that he'd fight his own battles with Dad – but Dean just wouldn't listen. Either that or he didn't stop to think about it whenever a conflict did arise.
And Dean would never back down from Dad when the conflict involved anything to do with Sam. But he wouldn't stick up for himself. No matter what Dad expected from him. He followed Dad's orders without question. Even when Dad's orders were stupid –like using Dean to lure the Aswang – Dean always went along with it.
But, if Dad's plan had been to use Sam to bait the Aswang, Dean would have been infuriated and fought tooth-and-nail against it. And, in the end, he would have won – Dad would have rethought his plan and decided to send Dean instead. And Dean would never see how equally stupid that plan was; he just would have accepted it and done it. Just like he was doing now.
Sam was forced back to reality by the sound of his father's hand hitting the doorframe. Upon hearing his father's order to get moving, Sam grabbed the gun that was laying beside him on the bed and dashed out the door. All Sam wanted to do was get into the truck and get going so they'd be able to help Dean. He despised the thought of Dean being out there by himself.
Sam had just settled into his seat, when John opened the driver's door and threw a cluster of weapons on the seat between them. He climbed into the truck and within seconds they were headed out of the parking lot.
John glanced at his youngest son. "Sam," he explained, "I know you don't like this plan, but we really didn't have a choice. And I need you to focus on what we have to do so we can end this tonight."
Sam stared out the passenger window and simply replied, "Yes, Sir," but he couldn't bring himself to look at his father.
John took a deep breath. He knew that Sam was still upset, but he needed to ensure that he had Sam's complete cooperation. So he decided to play upon his loyalty to his brother. "Dean needs you to do everything you can to help him tonight."
"I know he does, Dad."
Sam didn't need his father to remind him how important it was that he stay focused and carry out their plan. He knew that Dean's life might actually depend on it. Sam had been actively hunting with them for three years now and he had lost count of the number of times that Dean had been there to save his ass. And tonight, he planned to be there in any way he possibly could for his brother – even if it meant putting himself in harm's way to do it. Because that's what Dean would do for him.
Sam was quiet as his father drove toward the subdivision; hating the fact that they were purposely driving farther and farther away from Dean. As he watched the minutes on the clock tick by and the miles add up on the odometer, his apprehension increased.
Finally he couldn't suppress his unease any longer and asked, "Dad? Haven't we gone far enough?" Can't we just go to the school now?"
John looked at his son. He knew that Sam was concerned about Dean, so when he spoke, he tried to keep his tone was calm and reassuring. "Not yet, Buddy. The Aswang can soar across the sky very swiftly. It will probably check out where we're heading a few times before it finally decides to focus solely on your brother. We gotta make sure it forgets all about us. And the best way to do that is to make sure it really believes we're looking for it at the subdivision."
"But aren't we putting Dean in more danger the farther away we get?"
"Not really. It'll be dusk for about 20 more minutes and the Aswang won't attack until it's completely dark. Dean knows to wait until then. We still have plenty of time to do what we have to do before we head back to the school. Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to Dean."
Sam sighed but remained silent. He still didn't like this plan, but there was nothing he could do about it. Or any way he could change it.
When they reached their destination, John turned onto a street near the back of the subdivision. He parked the truck close to the spot where the pathway curved through the subdivision and down into the open field where they had waited for the Aswang last night. As his father pocketed the keys and opened the truck door, Sam looked at him quizzically.
"What are you doing, Dad?" he asked, anxiety filling his voice.
"Come on," responded John. "We have to make this thing believe that we're really out hunting it."
"We're leaving the truck?" queried Sam in disbelief.
"Sam, don't question me again," ordered John sternly. "I'm not in the mood." With that, he closed the door and crossed the road. When he reached the other side of the road, John noticed that Sam was still seated in the truck. He turned quickly and bellowed, "Now, Sam."
Sam jumped out of the truck and joined his father. John strode quickly down the meandering pathway with Sam at his heels. Once they reached the fences that separated the backyards from the open field, John told Sam to go left and stick close to the bushes while he followed the row of fences and circled back to the truck. John would go the opposite way and meet him back at the truck.
Sam didn't have to be told twice. Without hesitation, he slipped quietly to the bushes, concealing himself in the vegetation as best he could. Then he began his journey back to the truck. If the Aswang was watching him, it would think he was attempting to hide from it in the bushes. It was almost entirely dark now so, hopefully, his ruse would make the Aswang lose interest in him and he would be able to complete this exercise as quickly as possible and make back to the truck in record time. Then they would be on their way to help Dean.
For his part, John mirrored his youngest son's movements, creeping alongside the bushes until he spotted a break in the fenceline. Then he sprinted through the adjoining backyard and hurried back to the truck.
John was a bit surprised that he had beaten Sam back. He thought that Sam would have been so eager to complete this part of their plan that he would have raced through it and been waiting impatiently in the truck when his father arrived. But Sam was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was just being careful.
John waited for just under five minutes before he started to worry that something was amiss. What was taking Sam so long? He should have been back by now. And it was dark now; they should already be halfway across town. He got out of the truck and headed down the sidewalk in the direction Sam should be coming.
He had walked about half a block when he heard what sounded like his youngest son's voice coming from a yard just up ahead:
"I wasn't doing anything! I was just going home! Let me go! My father's gonna kill me!"
"Then just tell me why were you in my backyard?" came an angry reply.
"I told you! I was playing in the field and I didn't notice what time it was! I was just cutting through your yard so I could get home!"
John sprinted up the block until he arrived upon the scene. There was Sam, held firmly around his shoulders by an irate homeowner.
"So where is your home?" asked the man skeptically. "I've never seen you around here before."
"Sam!" John interrupted loudly. "Where have you been?"
The man immediately released his hold on Sam's shoulders and stared at John. "Is this your son?"
"Yes," replied John sternly. "He was supposed to be home half and hour ago. I've been looking all over for him."
"Well, I found him in my backyard," responded the man harshly. "I was just trying to find out what he was up to."
John approached them and stared down at Sam. "And what have you been up to?"
Sam sighed. He hated all this lying they went through whenever something went wrong on a hunt – or just whenever something happened for that matter. "I was just playing in the field. I wasn't paying attention to the time so, when I noticed it was getting dark, I decided I'd cut through one of the yards instead of going all the way back to the pathway. I figured it would be faster. I knew I was late and you'd be mad at me."
John glared at his son for a moment and then turned to the homeowner. "I'm sorry about this. I'll see that he doesn't bother you again."
The man nodded and he and John shook hands. Then, as the homeowner returned to his house, John and Sam headed back to the truck. As John slid into the cab of the truck, he glanced at Sam and stated urgently, "We have to hurry."
His father's statement filled Sam with dread. Were they already too late? Would they be able to make it across town in time? How long was it going to take them to get to there? Was Dean still okay? But he didn't ask any of the questions that were racing through his mind because he knew there wouldn't be any comfort in the answers.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Dean felt the air moving very slightly behind him. He knew it was the draft created by the Aswang's wings as it hovered silently behind him. As it waited to strike. Waited to ensnare him. And to finally have its meal.
But Dean refrained from turning around. Instead, he kept walking, moving forward, and not altering his pace. Making the Aswang pursue him further into the field. Closer to the woods. Closer to his father and brother.
At least, that's what he hoped.
He gave no indication that he knew it was there. Nothing to alert it to the fact that he was anything more than a perfect victim. That he was, in fact, still a hunter. A hunter who had successfully tricked his prey. He had turned the tables on the Aswang. He had seduced it into a trap. A trap to lure the creature to its death.
He turned his head slightly. Not enough to be noticeable. Just enough to catch the Aswang's silhouette from the corner of his eye. To discern exactly where it was. And to determine much danger he was in.
It was close. Much closer than he had thought. Or hoped. It was sitting just off his left shoulder. Right behind him. Close enough to reach out and grab him.
So why hadn't it? What was it waiting for?
Not that it mattered. At least, not right now. All that mattered right now was that he stay out of it clutches.
Dean dropped to the ground. He rolled and spun around to face the Aswang. He crouched on his knees and grabbed his gun. He aimed it at the creature.
His movements caught the Aswang off guard. It levitated slightly in the air before it rushed towards him; its eyes and teeth glowing in the dark while the remainder of its body remained hidden in shadows of the night. It was almost entirely concealed in the darkness. Making it difficult for Dean to get a proper fix on it.
So he aimed at the darkest part of the shadow. But before he could shoot, the creature lashed out with its front paw. Dean felt its claws scrape the skin on his arm and he winced in response to the pain. He threw himself backwards, landing just out of the creature's reach. As he lay on his back, he once again targeted the Aswang with his weapon.
But the creature was fast. It darted toward him and whipped its tail at him, trying to displace the gun. But Dean knew just how agile the Aswang was and how well it used its tail. He twisted his body sideways, avoiding its tail and took his shot.
It cried out in pain as the bullet hit it in the chest. The Aswang recoiled into the darkness and Dean scrambled to his feet. He lost sight of the creature as it shrank back into the darkness. He knew he hadn't killed it, that he had only wounded it. Now it would be enraged. And that would make it an even deadlier foe.
As he stood up, he came face to face with the creature poised directly in front of him. Before he could react, the Aswang grabbed him by the neck. Dean attempted to raise the gun to shot, but the creature encircled his hand with its tail, effectively halting his actions.
The Aswang tightened its grip on Dean's neck, its claws pressing into his skin. It lifted him off the ground. As he felt his air supply being cut off, he reached instinctively for his neck with his free hand. He seized the creature's leg just above its paw to loosen its hold. But the Aswang was strong and he had little chance of freeing himself.
He felt the creature constrict its tail until no sensation remained in his hand where it was encased in the creature's tail. He knew it was trying to render his hand useless so he couldn't use the gun. But he knew his finger was still on the trigger. And the gun was ready to fire.
All he had to do was find the ability to pull back on the trigger. And stay conscious long enough to fire the gun. Because, once the gun fired, the bullet would pass right through the Aswang's tail and lodge somewhere in its body. Hopefully right in its stomach.
And that would kill the creature.
Dean's hand was numb. His fingers felt about ten inches thick. He couldn't feel the trigger beneath his index finger. But he was sure it was there; he was sure that he hadn't moved his finger. He was smarter than that.
Dean crooked his finger. He felt the kickback of the gun as it fired. And he felt the warm splash of the creature's blood spray across his body. The Aswang's tail dropped uselessly to its side, freeing Dean's hand in the process.
The creature flinched and stepped backwards. It released Dean from its grasp and he fell to the ground. His back hit the ground with a thud and he had to struggle to remain cognizant. The force of the impact knocked the gun from his hand and it bounced just out of reach. He dug his heels into the ground, trying to propel himself away from the wounded Aswang. But the Aswang brought its foot down heavily onto his chest, driving Dean firmly into the ground. He couldn't move.
He tried in vain to wiggle out from underneath the Aswang's hold. The creature stared down at him. Dean could see his reflection mirrored in the creatures luminescent eyes. It barred its teeth and let out a low growl as it slowly lowered its body on top of him.
Dean increased his efforts to free himself. He twisted and turned. He tried to buck up against the Aswang by its weight held him securely to the ground. There would be no escape. Not this time.
Just as the Aswang dropped its front feet onto his chest, Dean heard his father's cry…
"SAM!"
Something flew past Dean's head. It smashed into the Aswang, rocking it on its feet. The force of the impact caused the creature to replant one of its feet from Dean's body onto the ground beside him. The creature shifted its focus to the interloper that was now clinging desperately to its back. It tried to grab the figure off its back, but was unable to reach it. The Aswang arched its back, trying to dislodge the unwanted assailant. As it reared up in an attempt to knock it from its back, Dean recognized the figure.
It was Sam.
Dean reached for his knife and slashed the Aswang across the leg. When the creature retracked its leg, Dean wiggled his body backwards. But the Aswang's foot came down on top of him once again, immobilizing him. But he had managed to move far enough that the gun was now within his reach. He seized it quickly.
The Aswang's focus was entirely on Sam and it didn't notice the threat that Dean now posed. He aimed the gun and fired.
The creature staggered backwards. Another shot rang out from somewhere in the distance. The Aswang dropped to the ground, knocking Sam off its back as it fell. Dean sat up hastily and pointed his gun at the creature. As he was about to fire, his father emerged from the shadows, emptying his gun into the Aswang's body at almost point-blank range.
Dean jumped to his feet and made his way to his father's side. He kept his weapon trained on the now prone Aswang but he didn't fire. There would be no sense wasting bullets if his father had successfully killed the creature.
They watched the Aswang take its last breath before its body convulsed and slowly turned to dust. As the creature dematerialized before their eyes, Sam ran to his older brother.
"You okay?" he asked trepidly.
"Yeah," Dean grinned. "I am. Thanks to you."