High Noon – chapter 10.
by: sifi.
OOooOO
"Ajax!" Bobby called stepping toward the cavern opening, his eyes scanning the grassy clearing on the other side of the entrance. "HEY!" he scowled dashing back out into the light toward the sidhe whose presence initially obscured his vision of the dog.
"Ajax!" he breathed sliding to his knees. The young canine was laying on his side his labored panting carrying with it a muted whimper. A bloody tear over the animals washboard ribs left flashes of white visible as if a hand had simply swept away the fur and flesh; just before the warrior, one Bobby wasn't familiar with, tapped the top of a stone bowl then dipped his fingers into a wad of mud and set about smearing it over the wounds.
Another glance around and a jagged toothy gnarl of stone, now streaked with blood and fur told him how the dog had been gouged so violently.
"Will that help him?" he asked the Sidhe who nodded, then pantomimed a slash in his small left arm.
"You came to help Dean?"
The warrior nodded then mimed something around his throat. Bobby shook his head, not understanding.
"I don't…"
He tried again, this time miming horns on his head and re-demonstrating an item around his throat, and again Bobby shook his head. "Sorry."
Finished spreading the mix on the dog's damaged side, the warrior tapped the top of the bowl, sealing it somehow with a layer of stone before urging the dog back up. He sighed as Ajax struggled to at first lay on his stomach, then panted for a moment watching intensely as the male once more mocked horns on his head, a ring around his throat, and finally reached under his loincloth and to Bobby's horror started to pull his member straight.
"Cernunnos sent him," Sam called from the wall of the entrance where he'd helped lower Dean to the ground.
Nodding his head the small warrior picked up his bowl and raced toward the young hunter leaving Bobby shaking his head, glad Sam had stepped in when he did.
"You ready to go boy?" he asked rubbing the dog's forehead. There was a spot just between and above his eyes that made the animal smile. Bobby stood straight and watched as with only the slightest difficulty the dog rose to his feet and took his first hesitant limping steps beside his master.
"Out of the way," the sidhe pushed Shep to one side and Imdugud to the other then set the bowl into Dean's lap, "Herne said you were trouble… how did you let this happen?" he glanced at Sam and shook his head, "Tell the mortals to take care of each other… they never listen! Nothing can be done or won without you both together! This will help absorb some of the venom," he scowled up into Dean's face, "but not all… if you do not succeed quickly then you will die."
"He said we must move quickly and finish this, then get you taken care of…" Imdugud began to translate.
"I understood what he said," Dean nodded.
"You did?" he asked.
"Mmm," Dean groaned, "Who's Herne?"
"It's just another one of Cernunnos' names… he's sometimes referred to as Herne the Hunter," Sam explained watching what the sidhe was doing.
"Mmm, explains some things…" Dean tried to focus on continuing to breathe, unnerved by the fact that he suddenly didn't really care very much if he did.
"Did you understand him too?" Ammit asked looking at the young Winchester.
"Yeah," Sam nodded then took a shaky breath while the warrior filled the wound with clay and stuffed the blood soaked bandana into the bowl before securing a thick stiff gauntlet of heavy leather around Dean's lower arm.
A moment later the eldest Winchester's breathing seemed to even out, and appeared to come easier. The sidhe sat back on his heels and sighed his relief, wiping sweat from his face.
"Hey guys…" Dean grunted faintly as Bobby and Ajax appeared in the entryway again. He patted his leg with a sigh, trying to convince his head to stop spinning now that the fire that started in his arm had been soothed and he didn't have to force himself to continue to breathe.
The pup chuffed limping faintly toward him, the stump of a tail wagging his whole hind quarters the only outward expression of his joy.
"Good boy… that's a good pup," Dean grinned scratching him first behind the ears then under the chin, "Well… ain't we a pair… raggedy man?" he asked the dog only to receive a warm slick slurp against his good arm for the effort.
"The clay will harden beneath the binding. If you're lucky and if you survive, it may even help fix your bones…" the warrior smiled and pet Dean's head, "I would let you rest if I could my lord, but my instructions were explicit."
"What was that? It looked like clay?" Shep asked.
The sidhe nodded, "It is part of all things, there's nothing to fear. It has been part of him before and will be again another time as well."
"He said it's not going to hurt him," Sam translated moving toward a small pile of torches not too far from the entrance.
He lit four and returned to the gathered group, handing one to Ammit, and another to Shep, saving the third for Imdugud and the last one for Dean knowing full well the older man would insist on being beside him as they moved into the tunnels, and if that was to be the case, Sam would need both hands free for their defense should the need arise.
Dean nodded reaching his good arm up toward Bobby who helped with a pull while the Assyrian demi-god hefted from his left side. "Will you be able to go on?" He asked.
"Not that you have a choice," Ammit reminded them with a smirk.
Shep stepped forward and stuffed the muzzle of Dean's .45 into the front of his pants then clapped his face smartly, "You gotta stop scarin' us old folks boy," he motioned between himself and Bobby.
"I'll try," he nodded and felt something tugging on his jeans.
The sidhe warrior held up a stalk with a purple prickly knob on top, "Eat this," he instructed then reached into his pouch as Dean took it and looked uncertaintly at the flower then held it up for Sam.
"Milk thistle?" he asked.
"It's a detoxifying agent Dean."
"Yeah but…" he stopped as the small warrior held up what looked like a huge dried nightcrawler, but was actually a dried section of root. "Eeew."
"When you're done with that, chew this." He instructed, "It'll help keep your head clear."
"Just do it," Sam nodded fighting again, yet another crawling urgency that his brother was in danger. Too many bullets we've dodged, this one's going to kill him… he's going to wind up dead… we have to get this done. I will NOT LET HIM DIE.
The older man scowled at his little brother frowning like a child as he stuffed the thistle into his mouth and started to chew, "You're so lucky you're my king… ass hole," he pretended to snarl in the ancient tongue at the younger hunter who, for the moment let go of his fears and chuckled, shaking his head and smiling he handed John's first born a bottle of water.
"Yeah yeah yeah, cry me a river." Sam jibed.
"I knew you were a Justin Timberlake fan," Dean sniffed swallowing a couple hearty mouthfuls and finding to his surprise that he actually didn't mind the faintly earthy taste of the flower.
Sam stopped and smirked at Dean who scratched his head, "What?"
"You know the name of the song."
"Shuddup."
"I'm just sayin…" Sam shrugged heading back down the tunnel but not before Dean could cuff the back of his head good naturedly.
"Are they always like this?" Imdugud asked Bobby.
The older hunter half nodded, "They're in a good mood today."
"They're like children," Ammit smiled easily.
"To some of us they are," Shep half growled.
"I am sorry about your loss Mr. McGregor, but do not let go of hope. Like the chosen one, I did not sense death, we may yet find your boy."
From your mouth to God's ear, Shep thought but held his tongue, afraid that if he gave voice to the hope of finding Tommy alive and well, that somehow the energy of that hope would disperse and he would be jinxed.
Taking the opportunity before they progressed too deep into the caves the sidhe warrior slid behind the veil with the bowl containing the bandana soaked in the Champion's blood.
Moving quickly, looking around he set a marker on a nearby boulder and slid the precious material into the rock itself where it would keep until the one it was meant for retrieved it.
With this one of his tasks complete he pierced the veil one more time and returned to the cavern and the party of the Kings unaware that his brief absence had been noted at all, let alone by whom.
OOooOO
"If I'm not dead then where am I?" Tommy asked holding back every urge to do cartwheels now that he could feel and use his lower half again.
"This is the underworld," Gader'el smiled clapping a hand on the young man's shoulder and motioning him toward a familiar tree stump.
"But…" he shook his head not quite clear on the difference.
"It's a realm between life and death where both states can be one, as well as one or the other."
"Huh?"
The weapons smith smiled and motioned the man to a rock in front of the stump, "If you are here, it could be because you are dead and haven't gotten where you belong. Or you could be hanging onto the very last thread of life. Or, as with what happened in your case… you slid between worlds when Nergal burst through the veil on his way to the entrance."
"So I didn't die?" Tom asked.
"No," the smith shook his head, "You were just broken a little."
"And that whole… crawling into the pond thing… that wasn't metaphorical?" He asked swallowing hard.
"No."
Tom's head spun and he clutched at the worn-smooth wood, "I don't feel so good."
Gader'el clapped him on the shoulder, "I'd imagine not," then handed him a skin to drink from.
"Wait a minute, if I did slide into the underworld here… I mean this close to that pond, then why didn't the marauder come through this way too? Why did it have to go through the entrance at Massacre Rocks?" He asked.
"There are many ways into the underworld, and many parts of it that lead to different areas. You have to get ON the expressway before you can make it to your off-ramp right?"
Tommy nodded wondering how strange it was to hear modern euphemisms spoken by an ancient being, in a world that looked like something out of a fairy tale, "Interesting," he sighed then patted the stump, "Okay then… what am I doing here?"
Gader'el grinned and set the half orb of stone onto the stump before he leaned forward, almost uncomfortably close to Tom and reached into the boulder upon which he sat, removing another half orb from within.
"You my boy, are going to learn the fine art of creation," he smiled opening the first bowl filled with butterscotch colored mud, and then opening the second to remove a blood soaked bandana.
"What's that?" He asked.
The smith pointed to the mud, "The first is your raw material," then picked up the bandana and twisted it over and over and over again, wringing every possible drop of blood out of the cloth and into the clay, "And this… is a special ingredient. This is the Champions blood."
"What?! Dean's blood? What happened? He's hurt?" Tom rocketed and made to push off the stone he sat on.
"He is wounded, but the best thing we can do is to finish THIS… the sword MUST have all three edges if it is to penetrate the heart of stone and save our world…" Gader'el explained, "And time is running out… if we do not work quickly, then the Champion will cease and all will be lost."
"Cease? You mean die?"
The smith nodded in a yes/no fashion.
"What do I need to do?" Tom asked.
"First, you must blend his blood through the mix, I and my kind are not allowed to touch the sacred clay."
Tom slid his hand into the bowl, turning the mixture until the blood was simply another element in it, "Now what?" He asked.
"Now you must sculpt her a new vessel."
"A…excuse me a what? And 'her' who?" Tom asked against the squirrelly feeling in his belly.
"Enki's wife," Gader'el nodded, "the woman the champion set upon the pyre at Bobby's."
"That was Laura, she's a friend of Sam and Dean's, NOT Dean's wife… they're not married," Tom shook his head, "that I know of," he was trying to remember what exactly the boys had told them in the motel room in Ohio before the marauder had come in with Henrickson and tried to skin the woman alive, "She…" his brows furrowed and he frowned, "She's dead what…" he shook his head.
"You sculpt, I will explain quickly," the smith suggested.
"There's something else," Tommy frowned, "I can't even draw a straight stick person, what exactly am I supposed to sculpt here? I mean my ash trays always came out crooked back in school y'know?"
"She will need a body in which to live when she returns, that is what you must sculpt."
A nervous bubble of laughter rolled out of the hunter's throat, "Oh hell… a body? I'm supposed to sculpt a body for her? A WOMAN's body?" He asked.
"Unless you think she'd prefer to come back as a man… though I don't know exactly how well the Champion would take to that," the smith smiled wryly.
"Oh hell…" Tommy looked at the bowl, "This is all just figurative anyway right? I mean there's probably enough here to make a fair sized barbie doll…" he stammered.
"There will be as much as is required."
Again Tom's hands clutched the stump as he swallowed hard, "I really don't feel so good. This can't be happening, this can't be real… God she'll be like a freakin' Picasso with one boob by her ear and the other one at her freakin' belly button… why me?" he moaned looking upward into the clear blue skies
He turned his gaze to the smith, "You can do it right? You're not evil, you just shared knowledge right? I mean…"
"I cannot touch the clay, whether it is my nature to be evil or not makes no difference. I am a creature without a soul… so technically still a demon, I cannot create a vessel FOR a soul, besides I have my own work to attend while you are sculpting."
"Oh yeah?" Tom asked curiously, "What are you gonna be doing?"
Gader'el pointed to what looked like a very large stone barbeque less than a dozen yards away, "I will be forging Enki a new sword," he wiggled his eyebrows up and down and grinned eagerly, "And he shall be ecstatic!" Gader'el couldn't have stopped the spread of the smile on his face if he'd wanted to.
"Oh yeah?" Tom asked carefully scooping the clay from the bowl out onto the table, "How come?"
"The materials I have NOW to work with that I did not have when originally I forged the sword! Oooooh it will be a thing of beauty and power and a treasure to wield!"
"You really enjoy your work don't you?" Tom asked.
Gader'el nodded grinning, "There is no greater joy than to forge a weapon of excellence for the Father of the King of the Gods… No challenge so rewarding to stand up to…" he grinned then motioned to the clay on the stump, "Except perhaps to make the vessel for his woman."
Tommy groaned throwing his head back, "Thanks I almost forgot… Picasso boobs here we come! Thank God Dean's not particularly picky…" he wiped a trail of sweat from his top lip and smiled awkwardly at the smith.
Gader'el sighed happily, he truly enjoyed the company of the men and women the chosen and the champion called family, they were a rare type of human who sought joy wherever they could find it even amid the morass of evil, and fear, and blood they often had to wade through.
"Shall I tell you a little secret?" the smith asked.
"Yes!" Tommy nodded emphatically, "Oh God yes… please…"
He leaned close, his smile audible even in his whisper as he gave the young man the will to start his project.
OOooOO
tbc.
Please R&R.
Thanks.
sifi.