PART 5

The flight was so short. Sally had very little time to make the decisions she was loath to make anyway..

Dean was unable to offer any guidance, he was unconscious. But she was fairly confident that he would be ok, it was Sam who needed immediate care. She had done what first aid she could but he had injuries in so many places that still bled freely. He was awake, but so weak, and when asked, he had insisted that a hospital was not an option. She didn't understand that and she was torn between doing what they wanted, and what was the right, the safe—thing to do. In the end, she gave in. She had a lifetime of taking the road less traveled. She wasn't going to start imposing logic on someone else now. She instructed her bewildered pilot to return to the studio.

Perhaps her decision would have been different if she didn't have a friendly medic winging his way over already. That softened the edge of her responsibility in this situation. She looked from one brother to the other. Too damned young. They should be able to choose their lives, they shouldn't have to take the bullet for everyone all the time. She hated this whole hunting business. Or perhaps more accurately, she hated that there was a need for it at all. She'd seen Bobby age before his time with the path he'd chosen. Hell, he looked ten years older than she did, and he was the younger one. She abandoned her musing as the chopper settled on the lawn. She'd have to deal with the idiot pilot, keep him quiet. Pay him or shoot him—she thought to herself. It was a grim little joke, she could afford to buy his silence, thank god. ...And she wasn't a very good shot.

She didn't know yet what he thought of it all...hell, she didn't know what she thought herself. But she rewarded him well, with the clear understanding that he was to ask no more about it. He was more than happy to accept the bribe and get away from this odd group as soon as possible. He wasn't a stranger to an occasional clandestine mission, there was enough drug trade in the area. But by any standards, it had been one hell of a bizarre morning.

At least this time he was inclined to help without being forced, and he shut the rotor down, ready to do what he could to get the two men out of his helicopter. Not exactly altruism, but why split hairs. Emily was standing by the door. Another person, a man, moved past her toward the chopper. He introduced himself as David Bowman, the friend of the Winchesters. Sally was very relieved to see him, and he and the pilot carried the brothers, one at a time, to the cottage. Sally quickly toweled out the blood from the choppers interior, just to be safe. She waited until he had taken off and was gone from sight before hurrying with Emily to the Jezebel.

Dean had come around while being carried, and he'd insisted on walking by himself, with some support. He was anxious to see Sam. He suddenly realized that it wasn't just a mere stranger helping him, it was David.

"Shit...David! Aw man I'm glad to see you!"

David had Dean's free arm over his shoulder. "Well I guess so!" he answered, helping Dean up the steps. He settled Dean on a couch.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked, a hint of panic in his voice. David assured him that he was safe, and he went to attend the younger Winchester as Sally did her part to get rid of the pilot.

David was immediately in surgeon mode. He stripped Sam of his torn and bloody clothing as Sally brought the hot water and necessities. Sam was covered in ragged wounds, none of which was dangerous on its own, but collectively they accounted for a significant loss of blood. He drifted in and out, weak and exhausted. David knew that Dean and Sam shared a blood type, and he had brought a med kit that included the means to transfuse one donor's blood directly to the other. When he boarded his flight earlier he'd felt like a wartime field medic, his kit crudely prepared for any number of trauma scenarios.

He stitched what needed it and used butterfly bandages everywhere else. Sally replaced bowl after bowl of pink tinged water. She longed for her garden, her peaceful paintings. She wasn't weak, but this wasn't a part of her world. Not the world she'd chosen. When Sam was adequately stabilized, David turned his ministrations to Dean. He carefully examined the broken clavicle, pronouncing it well reset and not a problem.

Sally was relieved to hear that. David checked all the vitals and asked the necessary questions. In the end he was satisfied that both brothers would recover without the need for hospitalization. It was really his first experience with being field-medic-to hunters. He would have to adjust to the demands and compromises of his chosen course. This wasn't the Mayo Clinic after all.. He assured an anxious Dean that Sam was going to be fine. Sally announced that she was heading back, and that she and Emily would have some sustenance prepared for everyone shortly.

With Sam now sleeping peacefully, David And Dean had some time to discuss the last few days. Dean recounted his horrible and unsettling experience of being rolled with the van while Sam was spirited away to battle some demonic creature. And that thing was still out there, trapped in a temporary snare, a situation that had to be resolved. Dean filled and re-filled their glasses with the everpresent bourbon, and eventually he was able to let go of some of his tension. David did his best to help him through it. It was so hard for him, as he was still a neophyte . He could hardly imagine some of the things the brothers took for granted. Plus, he was a lousy drinking companion, he would always be in the cheap-date class. By the time Dean was feeling the effects, David was done in.

Dean tucked him in to his own bed and wandered back to the studio. He stopped to watch the stars for a little while. When Sally opened the door, she expected two tired and hungry men. Instead, Dean stood weaving, alone. She helped him in, got him a coffee and some of the food they'd prepared. Once he was settled, she and Emily sat with him, patiently waiting for him to speak. They could see he was exhausted.

"How is Sam?" Emily asked quietly.

Dean looked up at her. "He'll be fine, Emily. " he sighed. "I really needed to thank you, both of you...for all your help."

Sally smiled. "Part of what we do here, Dean. We're a full service vacation facility. " She snorted.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Sally, are you looped?"

"She is." Emily grinned

Dean was appalled. "Aw man, this is all our fault. Jesus, Sally, you didn't need this. You two have this perfect artsy life , and here we go and wreck it...—christ!" He sighed and dropped his head into his hand.

Emily found his hand. "Dean, Sally's state has nothing to do with you."

"Oh..?"

She grinned. "Sally's always looped on wed. night…"

He looked up at the two of them, searching their faces, and the two women dissolved into helpless laughter. He joined after a moment, shaking his head. What else could they do?

Bobby arrived late in the evening, after a marathon drive. He was absolutely beat, and he never wanted to see another cup of coffee again. Sally and Emily were thrilled to see him, it had been quite a while. They were equally thrilled to inform him that Dean and Sam were safe and recovering, and that David Bowman had flown in to help. All three were fast asleep at the moment at the Jezebel. Poor Bobby was nearly unconscious on his feet, and Sally fed him and steered him to their guest room for some much needed rest. Emily decided she's spend some time at her potter's wheel, but Sally was too stir-crazy to turn her mind and hand to creative endeavours. She decided to go for a walk, to see if the cottage occupants were stirring. She wanted to hear the whole story of the recent events.

By the time she'd meandered down to the cottage, the sun was waning. Poking her head in the door, she was greeted by silence, punctuated by snoring of various resonance. She was glad she didn't have to share space with this trio, it sounded like a tractor-pull. She occupied the hanging porch seat, rocking gently for a while. She found herself absent-mindedly humming the song. Paddy joined her. He'd been carrying the limp body of a lizard in his mouth, but he dropped it in favour of some petting.

"Hey Paddy." she said, scratching his lumpy head. "Good kitty, nice catch. Just don't eat in right in front of me, ok?"

He squinted at her and rewarded her with a deep rumbling purr.

"Where's your girlfriend, huh?" He didn't answer, he just flopped onto his side and enjoyed the attention. Sally watched as the sky faded, its tropical hues turning to cool pastels. It was a lovely thing to experience...nothing you could ever transfer to canvas, might as well paint on black velvet and add an Elvis.

"That is one ugly cat."

She was startled out of her reverie. Dean joined her, sitting down on the porch steps. He scratched Paddy on the shoulders.

Sally smiled. "He's not ugly, he's experienced." She offered him a smoke, which he declined. "How you feeling…?"

"Better." he said, adding, "Those'll kill ya, you know.."

She snorted. "So will demons."

He laughed wryly. "Yeah, guess so."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while.

"Have you talked to Sam yet?" she asked.

He shook his head. Sam was still out cold, recharging after his fearful experience. And David was still recovering from trying to keep up with Dean earlier.

"Mmm, I forgot to tell you, Bobby's here. He's crashed for a while. He was really glad to hear you two were safe."

"He's a good guy, you cousin. Shit, he must have booted it to get here so fast. Too bad he had to do that, but with what he knows, I could sure use him when we go back out there to smoke that freaky thing."

She was instantly nervous. "You have to do that…?"

He sighed. "I don't know what it is exactly, but I know it's bad. Can't risk it hurting somebody else. It's trapped, for now. But it needs to be dead or gone." He drained his Corona and flicked the lime slice onto the grass. "I'm still waiting to hear everything that happened with Sam. This whole thing was a new one for us. It sure changes your whole concept of safety or security." A fleeting bitterness crossed his features. But he replaced it with his winning smile, and deftly changed the subject. "So...the painting thing... Sorry, Sam's the educated, sensitive one, he explains it all to me. Just how good are you?"

She wasn't offended by his direct probing. It was refreshing, actually. "High six figures yearly good, if you want to define it that way."

He whistled. "Man, I'm in the wrong business."

She laughed. "Business? Do you ever get paid for saving humanity? You forget, I'm related to Bobby. That van he lent you was the most decent-looking, up-to-date vehicle I've ever associated with him, he must really like you two. You know, I'm glad people like you do this, but I sure don't know why you do it…"

"C'mon, Sally...you don't paint for money. You just paint. It just happens to have the added bonus…"

She couldn't argue with that. There had been enough lean years where everyone told her to abandon her calling and get a real job. "Ok, but painting might drive me nuts, Dean. But it'll never kill me."

He had no answer to that.

By ten pm, everyone was u.p The internal clocks of most of them were hopelessly screwed up by the past events. Bourbon, beer and wine flowed freely to compensate. Sally and Emily were present for Sam's recounting of his experiences, as were Bobby and David. And Dean, who was adamantly opposed to Sam revealing his connection with the yellow-eyed demon. But ultimately he had to have faith that they were among good people, among friends. They were all duly shocked quiet by his recollections. Emily and Sally were frightened enough by the existence of the creature that tormented Sam, but the idea that it was merely a minion of something worse, was a shock to them. The existence of this Demon and it's mysterious plan was something that shook their world, it was too much for people who had carefully shielded themselves here in this beautiful place, choosing to disregard the uglier side of life. And the latest activity of the demon was a jolt for those others who knew of its existence. It was a wake-up call for those involved and it told them that this wasn't going away.

Emily was silent for the most part. She didn't want to panic anyone by the palette of colour that surged through her mind. And she didn't want to touch anyone, —it was all too strong, too raw. Instead, she calmed her fears by numbing them with a good Chianti. She found Sally's hand and held it.

"Christ, Sam…" David said. He didn't know what to add to that.

Bobby rubbed his bearded chin and whistled. "Well, Sam, you can be proud that you bested the bastard this time. Sounds like it threw its best curve ball at you, and you smacked it right back at him. Must have been hell for you.."

"Yeah." Sam said quietly. "It was."

Dean was tired of discussing it, he needed to have a plan to deal with it or he'd never be able sleep. "What do you think, Bobby? A dawn flight out to send it to hell? I don't know how long that trap will hold, if we get any hard weather it'll wash away and we'd be screwed."

Bobby agreed. "Yeah, as soon as we can, I guess. The question is; what incantations do we use here? This thing doesn't really fit any categories exactly. I mean, it may be sort of spirit, it seems to have been an evil human being to begin with. But it's very demonic in how it operates. Not your standard black-eyed demon either, another damned yellow-eyed thing. What that means, I dunno. But the trap worked, so did salt. My guess is a demon banishment passage, but if there's anything physical left after, we salt and burn. Agreed?"

Dean and Sam nodded. But that being said, the logistics of getting back out there were difficult. The Winchesters were as near as destitute as they cared to be, and Bobby lived a very modest existence himself. No one wanted to ask the obvious favour of Sally again. But they didn't have to.

"I'll get another chopper booked. And don't bloody talk to me about money, either. Bobby knows I have enough. More than I'll ever need, am I clear enough?" All the men mumbled grateful thanks, which she deflected with irritation. "Now here's another question; Dean—do we contact our first pilot, who has seen a bit of this so far and seems to be willing to have paid amnesia, or do we hire someone new?"

Dean thought about that for a moment. He wasn't a fan of the man, he had tried to abandon them several times during the rescue foray. But she was right, he had seen something of the nature of their work already and it would be dangerous to expose their activities to yet another witness. "I guess we should see if we can convince the first guy to take it on. At least he's sort of in the loop…"

"I agree. I'm going in to see if I can get a hold of him. Might be too late tonight though." Sally got up to leave. "Coming, Emmy?"

Emily nodded and rose. She paused, her face showing her worry. "Look boys...I have to tell you, my mind is just burning with colour. There's something so bad about all of this.." Her voice broke slightly but she got a grip. "Just, please...be so careful...so careful."

They promised. "Need a hug, Em?" Bobby asked gently.

"Oh god yeah, Bobby, but please don't—you'll send me right over the edge if you do." she sniffed valiantly. "Night boys, god speed, good luck, break a leg. And make sure the same number of you comes back, ok?" And finding Sally's arm, they left for the studio.

"Those two are so great." Sam said.

Bobby smiled. "Yeah, they're a couple of solid old broads. Now, one more detail—we've gotta tow the van out before anyone notices and reports it. We can do that right after we deal with the other problem. You probably want to get your shit out of it, and there's still salvage in the carcass. I brought down another set of wheels for you boys. Not as nice as that van, but it'll get you there. Gotta promise to stay on the road this time though. " He was teasing them with the last bit but the brothers squirmed uncomfortably.

Dean addressed it. "Man...we are so sorry about the van, Bobby. It was a really good ride, wish you'd given us something crappier…"

Bobby shrugged and smiled. "Shit happens, boys, especially in this business. Don't sweat it…" He yawned and stretched. "I gotta turn in...want to see the new wheels?"

Dean really didn't, but he went for Bobby's sake. Sam begged off, he was still hurting and needed to sleep. As they walked along the path, Bobby questioned Dean about their injuries.

Dean told him. "Sam's got a lot of cuts and tears...that thing really shredded him. David sewed him up. He was pretty weak from blood loss but he got some from me to compensate."

"What about you?"

"I'm ok."

"Sure, that's why you have bandaids all over your face and only one arm, you stupid ass! Now answer my question!"

"Ok, fine!—Broken collarbone, cracked melon, bruised everything. But I'm still walking, alright? And I can still shoot, or whatever. So I'm going tomorrow, if that's what you're getting at!"

"Relax, I'm just checking. I need you there. But maybe Sam should stay back, there's nothing he needs to do there."

Dean was in full agreement. They'd probably have to tie Sam to a chair, but that's the way it was gonna be. They approached the tarped vehicle on the back of the ramp truck.

"Go ahead, have a peek." Bobby invited.

Dean hid his lack of enthusiasm and lifted the canvas. Gleaming black paint reflected the moonlight. Polished chrome shone. The Impala.

"Oh man, my car!" Dean whipped off the tarp and stroked his hands along her classic lines. He broke out of his reverie long enough to thank him. "Jesus, Bobby!" he said, eyes shining. "Man,..I—"

"You're not gonna kiss me are ya?" Bobby teased.

"I dunno, I just might! It's a toss-up between you and her!"

Bobby laughed. "Well make it her then. Oh, and she comes equipped with new plates and a new old VIN number—all legit and official, so as long as you don't do anything stupid, you should be alright."

"Thanks, Bobby, seriously."

"Yeah, yeah. Go to bed, Dean, she'll still be here in the morning." He tossed him the keys and headed in.

Dean took a last long look,, and turned to head back to Jezebel.