Episode Six
"The Little Fish"
Chapter Five

Sam's plan sucked.

Dean pushed through the searing pain in his leg, shoved aside plants and tried to stop tripping over the tiniest asshole little rocks and shit - he hated camping and he hated the woods and goddammit they were hunting a goddamned Alpha, an Alpha that was basically the goatman version of the devil, the source of evil in a monster type that was apparently good - well it wasn't awesome.

And Charlie wasn't a hunter no matter how many gadgets she had or what her score at the range was or whatever. And Dean was injured, trying to hide his limp and failing spectacularly, half-bitten off curses and stumbling every few feet, and he tried to save Sam the worry, suggesting that Charlie needed a break. But it was obvious Sam wasn't fooled, and Charlie just rolled her eyes and Dean felt completely useless and pathetic-

And it wasn't like Sam was doing that much better. He was favoring that shoulder again, Dean saw how he kept his arm close to his body. And he saw the slices through his shirt, the tinge of blood though it didn't look too serious. The gauze over his temple hadn't bled through. But he was breathing hard, wheezing just a bit, whatever was keeping him upright - whatever it was - was maybe wearing off. Sam coughed, wet and he tried to hide it, shook his head, kept going-

Dean grabbed his arm, his good arm, pulled them both to a stop. "Sammy. This plan sucks."

"I know." Sam looked ahead of them, at the form of their dead camper Melanie tramping along the trail, followed by Charlie. "You got a better one, I'm all ears."

"You gotta leave me here."

"What?"

Dean blew out a breath, a hard breath, limped back a little and stuck his arm out to lean on a tree. "You gotta leave me, man. I'm dead weight. I'm slowin' you down."

"No. No, that thing is out there Dean. It flanked me and I was actively stalking it. If it comes after you, you're dead."

Dean shook his head. "No way. You don't think I can take out a tiny little dark side goatman Alpha? Come on."

Sam watched him, measured him. Dean looked away. "Yeah," Sam said. "Sure you can. Course you can." He looked ahead of them. Nodded. "Okay. We'll make our stand here then. Yeah, there's a clearing we can set up in. We're not too far from where I think the lair is anyway-"

"Sammy, this is a bad idea. You need to get to the ravine, you need to set up this thing where you have space to keep everyone safe-"

Sam turned on Dean, fist in the front of his shirt. "I am not leaving you here. You want me to live- You are the only-" He collected himself. "I am not leaving you here." He backed up a step, let Dean go, breathing hard.

"Jesus. Okay Sam. Hey, okay." Dean sought Sam's face, trying to make eye-contact; Sam looked away from it. "Sam, come on, look at me." Dean pushed away from the tree, took a labored step. Sam had a hand out, like he was dizzy, waving him off. Dean's worry spiked.

"Sorry," Sam said, turning away. "Look-"

"Don't apologize. Okay. I get it. I mean the number of times you've been the only thing I - I just get it. Okay, Sammy? You good?"

Sam rubbed over his face, scrubbed his palm over the day's stubble. "Yeah, I'm good. Listen, you can't go much further on that leg. I think we should set up here." He turned to include Charlie and Ionesca in the last, get them to stop. "There's a clearing in those trees over there, my arm's killing me, I think we oughta just get this done while we have the light to set up-"

"Yeah, my leg's not doin' too great," Dean added. Sam looked at him, grateful maybe, or surprised. Dean grinned. "You don't have to cover for me man, everyone can see I got myself chewed up here." Dean accepted Sam's arm down and together they lowered Dean onto a rock to rest his leg.

Sam watched him, thoughtful again, measuring again. Then he nodded, and suddenly looked so tired. Definitely grateful for the break, for Dean making it a non-Thing, how worn down Sam was.

"Okay," Sam said. "We know the Polish wards work. What I want to do is sit you-" He nodded at Dean. "In the middle of a warded circle-"

"Bait."

"Safest bait ever," Sam agreed. "Me, Charlie, and Ionesca will be in hiding at three of the four corners. It'll come after you, Dean, so stay in that circle. Keep it coming for you and it won't even notice as we put up the wards around it. Then we smoke it."

"Three of you and four wards-"

"That's why you have to be bait. You can't run to a fourth ward and set it up."

"Yeah but Charlie could, or hey, how about our preternaturally quick monster friend," Dean objected.

"Preternaturally?"

"I know words, smart guy. Don't try to change the subject. Look, this thing has been after you twice now-"

"And the herbs I treated your brother's injury with," Ionesca offered, "hide him from Ryelka. It will not go for the bait."

Sam frowned murderously at the monster. "No. Dean's hurt. We'll just have to get it here and then rely on it to see Dean and go after him."

"You're not exactly at the top of your game either, Sammy," Dean said, and damn trying to save his pride now, when he was trying to throw himself on the fire again. "Don't try to deny it man, I can see right through you. The shakes and the coughing. Your shoulder. No, I'm invoking big brother rights on this one. I can put up a damn ward. Nessie here can do two of them. We'll pop the smoke and Charlie can take the shot."

Sam closed his eyes, probably pissed at Dean for outlining all his sore spots, but it was fucking worth it if Sam stayed out of the line of fire. And hey, it wasn't like he brought up the Lucifer thing.

"If not you," Sam tried, "then Charlie."

"Sorry, this deal is non-transferable," Dean said.

"I'm good," Charlie said. "I've been training, remember? And I remember all the words to that chant thing, and I'm not hurt."

Sam's hand went to his shoulder out of reflex.

"Look, Sam. This is how it's gonna go down. It makes the most sense. You're the second least useful person here, after me, and I'm invisible to it. The thing has your scent. That's just the way this one crumbled, okay? Shut up and accept that you're going to be the safest one in this whole terrible plan."

Sam made a face at terrible, stared off, stewing, working his mouth. He was pissed, and Dean couldn't blame him. But he relented in the face of Dean's impeccable logic. "Fine. Whatever. Let's just get it set up before dark." He turned his back on Dean, shoulders set in pissiness, and strode to catch up with their resident good-guy monster. "Ionesca, hold up. I wanna clarify some things..."

"He's a good hunter, Dean," Charlie said, frowning at him as she helped him up.

"The best," Dean agreed, watching Sam stride off into the meadow chatting with Ionesca.

"So why-"

"I can't lose him, Charlie. I just can't."

It was chilly by the time they finished setting up. Close to sundown, in the clearing just off the path, they had laid their trap. In the center, big enough Sam could lie down and still be safe, versions of the totems that protected the cabin were carved into the ground, creating a square in which Sam would be the protected bait while they fought around him.

Fifteen feet away in each direction, they had laid actual totems made of green wood and painted with what they had at hand - blood. Laid them onto the ground until the moment they were needed. They'd made a trap with a square of safety in the middle, if it went according to plan. At each totem, there was a pyre of kindling and herbs from the box which Sam and Charlie had used to bless their blades just earlier that day. When the herbs went up, it would obscure the dark goatman's senses, dampen its speed and ability, and when Charlie had the shot, she'd take it.

Ionesca had painted some of the herb mixture it had treated Dean's injury with over Charlie's forehead to hide her as well, and on itself although the ozone scent was difficult to cover. Sam of course, remained fully visible to the goatman's senses.

He was lying on the ground like he was trying to sleep, little tarp strung over him to give the impression that he intended to camp out and resume his hunt the next morning. His backpack was a pillow, his coat was a blanket, he tried to relax and complete the picture of the sleeping camper, but every nerve was sprung tight, thinking about the ways in which this stupid plan of his could fail.

And it might not have been so bad if they'd been able to wait it out together, chatting around a fire, protected by sigils - they should have waited until the next day to do this, but he just kept thinking about the people in the cabin who'd decided waiting wasn't an option, people who ran and would probably be found dead soon enough. So no, a nighttime hunt it was. Waiting alone in the dark.

It took a couple of hours, long enough that Sam was in turns close to sleep and so sleepless he could barely keep himself from getting up to pace. If Dean had been in his place, no way would they have been able to keep up the illusion. But two hours, and he smelled it before he heard it, that burning copper smell, that spilled blood smell. He shifted to get his knife into his hand and free of the straps of the backpack, couldn't help the little gasp of pain as he shifted his shoulder, tight and stiff from lying on the cold ground.

Fine, that was fine. If it thought he was more injured than he was, great. He opened his eyes to slits, and there it was in the moonlight, a shadow he barely saw except that it blotted out the lighter colored underbrush where it walked.

It took its time, scenting the air, looking this way and that. Sam held his breath - Dean and the others were safe, hidden by the herb mixture, under cover, safe safe safe - and then the creature turned toward him.

Sam shifted again, pretended to wake, scuffled realistically for the knife already in his hand, held it out in front of himself as he sat up.

"I'm not afraid of you," he said. It advanced on him slow, mouth open in a toothy grin; moonlight shined off its teeth.

"Boy," it said, voice deep and rich with centuries. Sam thought he could feel it through the earth, momentarily rooted by this single word, the terror it wrought with its mere presence, the confidence. It suddenly occurred to Sam that it was very much like a leviathan, ancient, alien, with a big mouth full of sharp teeth. The thing was predation personified, and it moved like the whole earth knew it, this alpha, this king among monsters. It stopped before Sam. Blinked its several white flower eyes. "I know you. Don't I."

"No." Come on, come on - just behind them, the first totem went up, and to cover the sound of the live wood twisting into the underbrush, Sam got to his feet, let a stick crack under his boot, gestured wildly with the knife.

"No, I don't think we've met," over the other two totems, and the sound of Ionesca racing for the fourth, which would go up within full view of the beast in front of him, Sam in his way, protected by some marks in the earth.

The thing tilted its head at him, eyes blinking in turns. "No, I guess we haven't. But I've heard the stories. Alpha hunter. The one they call boy king-"

Sam went cold, but the thing stopped, looking past him, strangled out a cry, and Sam knew the last totem had gone up. Ryelka leaped for him, backward hinged legs uncoiled in strength, and Sam held his ground as the thing was stopped midflight by the wards carved into the ground at Sam's four corners.

Ryelka swung its head around, taking in the four outer wards with anger. Swiveled back to Sam. It roared in anger, so close Sam could smell the rotten coppery fester of its breath. The earth shook. "And what now, mighty hunter! You're trapped with me."

"Now? Now you burn," Sam said, and the murmuring came up on three sides, Dean and Charlie and Ionesca murmuring the Polish incantation. The strike of matches. Smoke floated into the space. Ryelka looked around its trap as the smoke closed in around it, its cry rent the air. It promised death, and more than that, torment, vengeance -

Sam crouched into his safe space, covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve. He tried to keep the thing in sight as the smoke covered the clearing. He needn't have bothered. Ryelka slammed into the invisible barrier around Sam, digging its claws into the ground in an attempt to break the ward there and render it ineffective.

Fine. Sam tightened his hold on the knife. But he needed this thing distracted-

"Charlie!" Dean said over the sound of the raging goatman. Thank god for Dean.

"I can't see!"

"Wait til you have the shot!" Dean said.

"No, don't wait! Aim for my voice!" Sam called. Judging by the direction of Charlie's voice, the goatman currently digging his way to Sam was right in her line of sight to Sam. Hopefully the bullet wouldn't go straight through.

"What-?"

"Just do it!"

"Do it, Charlie!" Dean said, and half a second later, the shot rang out, and the beast screamed and wheeled away. Sam could make out the shadow of it through the heavy smoke, the strange fleshy horns flying up in rage, pain-

Sam shot out into the smoke from his safe space just in time for the smoke to begin to clear. Dean was yelling; Sam ignored him and leapt onto the beast's back, climbed the trunk of the creature as it reared in agony, gripped it tight by the tips of the fleshy horns and sliced his blessed knife through the base of them even as the thing reached back for him, dug its claws into his waist-

They both went down.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" Dean ranted, waving away the smoke as he limped as quickly as possible into the circle. The thing might have been down, might have been crouched over Sam's dead body, it didn't matter - if it wasn't dead, it soon would be. And if Sam wasn't dead, by god he was going to have some fucking explaining to do-

They lay there in the dirt. Sam pinned beneath the creature's bulk and unmoving, eyes closed, mouth open. Red painted his shirt around the waist; white painted his face and hands and arms. A knife in one hand, something unidentifiable and gross in the other.

Dean knelt. Fuck fuck fuck - and god kneeling hurt, but he barely felt it. "Sam? Sam."

Sam coughed, violently, dragged in a breath. Knife still clenched in one hand, he vaguely attempted to push the body off of him. "Little help?" he wheezed.

Ionesca and Charlie appeared. Ionesca, in its true form, immediately started to help move the body off of Sam; Charlie went into hysterics.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, I shot Sam. Look, he's bleeding."

"I'm fine, Charlie," Sam said. His breath hitched. "Mostly. But you didn't shoot me, don't worry."

Dean helped him sit up. "You son of a bitch," he said again. "You knew a silver bullet wouldn't kill it, didn't you?"

"I had a hunch."

"You never intended to stay safe in that circle."

"Nope. Sorry."

"Fuck you are gonna give me a goddamned heart attack."

Sam chuckled, coughed hard.

Dean rubbed his back. "You wanted me out here the whole time. I shoulda known when you just quit bitching about it you had somethin' else planned. I mean, you're the stubborn one."

"You're the stubborn one."

"Jesus shut up."

Sam relaxed back, practically collapsed into Dean's lap. "You shut up," he grumbled miserably.

"Ryelka is dead." Ionesca sat at the side of the hulking dark goatman, watching it solemnly, pale blue clusters of eyes like flowers. It lifted a hand as if to touch the body, but dropped it again, tilted its head. "Ryelka is dead."

"God I hope so," Dean said.

"Dean-"

"What, show some respect? To the thing that tried to kill us?"

"To Ionesca," Sam said quietly, looking over. There was a moment of quiet.

Awkward, awkward quiet.

"So," Charlie said, turning her back on the goatmen. "My girlfriend dumped me."

"What?" Sam said, over sympathetic, as Dean was saying "No way, her loss."

"You could have told us," Sam continued.

"I didn't want a pity party."

"Pity? Please," Dean said. "You'll get another like that." He snapped his fingers.

Charlie brightened. "I know, right? I'm pretty awesome. I dunno, I think I'm just too much for her. Whatevs, I'm totally gonna get Bridget's number when we get back."

"Bridget's gay?" Sam said. "Huh."

"Oh yeah. And her friend Robbie wants to climb you like a tree." She winked at Dean, who genuinely tried to keep a straight face when Sam's cheeks went scarlett.

"That's why he was suggesting drinks..." Sam said wonderingly. "I thought- uh, nevermind. I-"

"But I'm also gonna get Tabitha's number too, maybe," Charlie said, taking pity on him by changing the subject back.

"Tabitha... Tabitha Minnow, the vic?" Dean said. "You're the Protected Forests Division guy! From the hospital!"

"Uh, no? That's not a thing. But if you're suggesting I got to your witness before you did, yeah. I did that."

Sam chuckled.

"Oh shut it, knucklehead," Dean sniped. "She also put this case together before you did. It's basically your fault she beat us by a day."

Sam laughed again, pushed himself out of Dean's lap and stifled a cough to say, "It was good work, Charlie. Even Dad never successfully put together a goatman hunt. You should have seen Dean's face. He was really annoyed-"

"Aaaaactually," Charlie said, winking up an eye. "As much as I love to annoy Dean, Kevin told me where you were and what you were doing."

"I'm gonna kill that shrimp-"

"So I guess you can still blame Sam. For like, getting us all out here but also for like, surviving and stuff."

"You're welcome?" Sam said.

Silence descended again.

More awkward.

"Okay, so... we should get back to the cabin. Um..." Dean smiled at the goatman. "The horror show's over, pal. We won."

"Ionesca, are you all right?" Sam asked.

Ionesca nodded, in slow motion. Then it dragged its eyes from the corpse and smiled at the three of them. "Yes. All is well now. For so long, we- but all is well now." It stood, clapped its long-fingered hands together. "I shall accompany you back to the cabin-"

"You don't have to do that," Sam said.

"Please. Allow me to see you to safety, from here to the cabin, and from there out of the forest. It is my honor and duty."

Dean hung back from the group as they made their goodbyes. He hadn't been too interested in making friends on the blue team, just kept count of the squishy little civvies and made chat with Charlie on their hike out. But it looked like there were people on the red and blue teams alike who had come to regard Sam as a friend and a leader, taking his phone and programming their numbers in, taking his in return - "Just in case," they'd joke. A slightly hysterical, we're alive but some of our friends aren't kind of joke, but with the sort of fire-forged kinship that came of battle.

Sam was tired, Dean could tell, and he wanted to get home and sleep for a million years - he had that hang about him that Dean could spot ten miles off. But he kept handing out his phone, he kept smiling, he laughed a time or two, and coughed a lot more.

Charlie was with him, though. If he needed Dean's help, she'd yell for him even if Sam couldn't. Dean sighed and headed off toward the half-hidden parking lot where they'd parked, set on getting them ready to jet as soon as Sam said scram. He came up on her rear end, keyed open the trunk to toss their backpacks in, strip his outer teeshirt and throw on a clean long-sleeved shirt. Slammed the trunk and started around toward the driver's side-

"Hiya, Dean," Abaddon said, stretched out on the hood of the impala.

Dean jumped, like a mile. "Jesus." He looked back toward the campers and hissed, "Get the hell off my car."

She stroked the glossy black. "I just love how you've managed to keep this heap going, you know?" She looked up at him, full red lips, flaming hair, those eyes. "Broken, bent, on last legs, after you've made a complete and utter wreck of it, how you pick it up and put it back together-"

"You got a painfully executed metaphor you're headin' toward here or-"

"No metaphor. Well, not only metaphor. But speaking of, how is the little camper? Still clinging desperately to a life he doesn't want?"

"You know what, why don't you just tell me what the hell you want and get out of here, before you scratch my paint job."

Abaddon sat up, slow. "You ever wonder why men call the cars they cherish 'she'?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"It's because they're afraid. From the beginning of time, they have been. Of a creature that can create life, holds the key to man's simplest pleasures and can withhold it just as easily. Of a thing so ferocious and delicate at the same time, men don't know how to cope in the face of its fury. They want to pretend they're in control of at least one... she."

"Please god get to the point before I yawn to death."

She slid from the hood of the car. Stalked toward him. "The point is, I'm your she. I need you."

Dean frowned, looked around for Sam, though it was a little late to be worried about Sam overhearing. "What, now?" He gestured vaguely upward, where the sun was starting to descend beneath the tree canopy. In the near distance, he could hear Charlie talking with the survivors of this disastrous hunt, here and there Sam's low rumble, a correction, a reassurance that they could call him, here's my number, if you ever need anything, give me a call.

"The iron's hot." She wrinkled her nose apologetically. "So, strike. Here's what I need the Righteous Man to do, and it's simple, really. No complicated rhymes to work out, nothing like that. All we need is the Good Seed in the Rotten Fruit."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I need the heart of a monster."

"... and the catch is...?"

She smiled. "The heart of a righteous monster. The good seed. The rotten fruit. Only the Righteous man can pick it - oh don't look like that, Dean," she said hastily.

Dean was staring back the way they'd come, back to where the goatman was watching Sam and Charlie see the survivors off, so happy he could go back to his clan and his purpose, helping those who were lost find their way.

"No-"

"It's a sacrifice, I know. These things are rarely easy. There's a reason not just anyone can do it, Dean. The Righteous Man can do this horrible task because he knows it serves a greater purpose." She was close to him now, without his realizing it, and she laid a hand on his cheek. "To keep Sam safe. It's worth any cost, isn't it?"

Dean closed his eyes.

"If our friend the goatman knew the whole story, I bet he'd volunteer to do it. Save the world, save the guy who helped him finish his mission? I bet it'd be a no-brainer-"

"Stop. Just stop talking. I'm already in." He pulled away from her and headed toward the trunk, looking for a weapon. Without looking up, he said, "I'll leave the heart for you in his... uh, cave. And Sam does not find out about this."

"Good enough," she said. "Oh, and Dean?"

He stuck his head up over the trunk.

She grinned. "We need four Seeds, mkay?"

"Three more after- Three more?"

"Enough to scatter to the four winds. You collect, I'll do the scattering. Good luck."

He looked down into the trunk, trying to figure a way out. He wasn't bound by a deal or anything, but Lucifer, Sam, he couldn't let that happen- He shouldered his bag and closed the trunk, and when he looked back up, Abaddon was gone. He headed toward the group.

"Heya, Sammy," he said. "I'm gonna walk Ionecsa back to his home sweet home. You finish up here and I'll meet you back at the car?"

Sam nodded. "Uh, sure. Tell him thanks for me, okay?"

Dean took a breath, held it a moment, nodded. "I sure will."

He left them talking and grinned at the goatman on approach. "Let's get you back home, huh?" he said, heft of a knife in his bag.