Dawn – chpt 13.

by: sifi

--

Stepping carefully he held the jacket at the ready as the sound of the dog jumping down to the floor and padding out into the hallway came to his ears. He could hear the low rumble of the young canine's growl as he moved through the kitchen, wondering when it would pounce on him.

He took another step and the growl grew louder. He wondered why he hadn't shown himself yet, what was holding the pup back? He stepped forward again, and again; now almost at the threshold between the kitchen and the living room. He peered ahead cautiously and froze as a weary voice sounded from up ahead and on the right.

"Easy Ajax... c'mon boy, s'okay..."

The dog yipped but the claws padded back into the room and he crept forward again. To the left lay the open living room, culminating in the bay window at the far end, and the front door on the right. To the far right would be the stairs, and on this level directly ahead and on his right was one of several bedrooms in the house. Once he stepped into the living room, behind him on the right, would be the downstairs bathroom. He'd carefully cased the place over the last twenty four hours since his arrival; and though he'd heard Bobby talking, both over the phone, as well as to the dog, he'd also heard him, through his electronic ear, talking to what he suspected the older man thought were his 'sidhe' guests. Damned shame Singer... you used to be one of the ones we could count on, he thought knowing full well Bobby hadn't had a single visitor until those boys showed up today.

A quick glance at the partly open bathroom door gave him confidence to slide to the wall, pressing his back against it as he neared the bedroom door, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath hot in his throat. He closed his eyes and took a breath, releasing it slowly, his eyes moving to the ceiling where he frowned curiously noting the key of Solomon painted there. He held his breath and dared a glance through the crack between the door and the jamb. The dog was curled at the foot of the bed, the boy lay on his side, wrapped tightly from neck to toe in the blankets. Even from this vantage he could see the fever flush on his cheeks, and he wasn't sure but he thought he could hear a faint wheezing coming from him as well. Again, Gary Nelson frowned as he wrapped his jacket around his right arm, knowing the dog would strike from his position, which meant he had to use his left hand to inject the boy before he could haul his sick cookies out of the bed and put up a fight. He'd have to move very fast.

Taking another breath to steady himself he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the syringe, holding it by the screw on safety cap in his teeth, with a simple twist of his fingers he'd have it at the ready to stick into the young man.

Another glance through the crack, the shorthairs of his neck stood on end and as he turned in to the room; obtaining his position in three quick long strides, he knew something was wrong. The dog didn't move but something under the blankets did, a metallic sound he knew far too well followed immediately by the deafening blast of a sawed off shotgun firing in tight quarters. Pain hit him in dozens of places between his neck, chest, and belly, in his mouth the syringe no longer existed, though whether he'd dropped it or it'd been hit by the blast he didn't know.

He could feel his eyes growing huge as he nearly flew backward against the wall, sliding down to the floor, unconscious, his last vision that of John's youngest sitting up on the edge of the bed, soaked in sweat and scrubbing his face carefully with his right arm while his left held the gun, its black vacuous barrel pointed right at his head.

In the shed with the sound of the blast going off in the direction of the house, Dean dropped his end of a work bench they were moving and tore as fast as his tortured legs could carry him.

"Sammy!"

Luckily Bobby too had dropped his end of the bench, and he also took off toward the house, racing ahead of the older brother, both men pulling their guns as they covered the distance as quickly as possible.

At the back steps Bobby skidded to a halt, opened the door and slid into the room with barely enough time to keep the half panicked Winchester from charging headlong possibly to his own death.

"Get some rope," Sam grunted listlessly from the bedroom.

It was Dean's signal to push past their old friend.

"Sam!" he stopped at the door, taking in the sight of his little brother sitting on the bed with the shotgun in hand, "You alright?"

Sam nodded, "He had a syringe of something," he watched as Bobby stood stunned and staring in the doorway.

"Did he get you with it?"

Sam shook his head, "Just be careful, I don't know where it went."

"He someone to you Bobby?" Dean asked.

"Name's Gary Nelson, he's one of the hunters I invited... what the hell happened Sam?" he moved into the room and began binding the man while Sam shrugged and told them what he knew, which in fact was very little.

"Wanna toss him into the key? See if he's possessed?" Dean suggested.

"Definitely," Bobby nodded and dragged him out into the hall once he was done tying him up.

"Ajax did good..." Sam muttered smiling tiredly between Dean and Bobby, "Hand signals over verbal when both are given, even better than Rummy," he reached over and rubbed the dog's head then motioned him that the stay command was done. The pup scrambled off the bed and growled at the man his master had dragged into the middle of the floor.

"Watch him Ajax," Bobby commanded and indicated, then stroked the dog's head as that giant pink tongue flipped up against his hand, "Good boy."

--

Mercy Abbott pulled in beside the Impala and smiled hugely, her white teeth shining while her heart fluttered just a little, Silly girl... she chided herself checking her make-up and swiping her lips with a stroke of tinted balm. Dean... she breathed deep and reminded herself of his scent, the memory of it had never left her.

Swinging her overnight bag over her shoulder, she strode up to her Uncle Bobby's front door with just a little more swing in her hips than was normally there, rapped twice, and entered.

"Lemme look at you girl... aww you're sight for these sore old eyes," Bobby grinned wrapping his niece into his arms.

"Hey uncle Bobby," she sighed squeezing him tightly and taking in the almost foreign look to his living room, from the unconscious man tied up on the floor to the shelves of books rather than piles. She quickly grasped him by the shoulders and held him away from her, her expression stern, "Who are you and what've you done with my uncle?"

At his momentarily puzzled expression she broke into laughter, "Is that Gary in the key?" she asked.

"Yeah, he tried to attack Sam," Bobby nodded.

Mercy rolled her head on her shoulders, and scowled, "Is he possessed or did he just buy into all the bullshit floating around out there about the guys?"

"If he's not possessed then he's a bigger idjit than I ever took him for," Bobby nodded.

"Hey! I know that voice..." Dean's voice carried his smile from the kitchen as he and Sam came shambling into the living room.

"Holy crap! You guys look like hell!" She pecked Bobby's cheek then moved into the room and stood before Dean. She cast a quick glance and a smile over the older hunter's shoulder, "Hey Sam," she greeted then turned her eyes back to Dean's, her hands on his chest, "Hey Dean," she sighed then raised up onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

"Mercy," he nodded smiling gently, "Good to see you... you look fantastic," he gently pushed her back.

"What happened to you guys?" she asked.

"Ran into a bit of trouble," Sam answered tightly, taking the bag from her hand, "I'll put this in your room upstairs," he cocked his eyebrow at his big brother and fought against the frown that wanted to come out. I wish we'd known she was coming... course we shoulda figured he'd ask her to come...

From across the room Bobby scowled at Dean who shot him a partly questioning look, then covered it quickly with a slightly stiff smile as the woman turned her warm hazel eyes back to his luminous green ones.

"Alright I get it... no screwing around with the walking wounded..." she smiled. Her eyes fell to the dining table where it looked like all three of them had been working, then to the corner where Ajax awaited his signal to come meet the new arrival.

"What're you guys working on?" she asked moving to the paperwork and the book, "Cuneiform?" she questioned, "Wow now that's what I call 'old school' not to mention a little heady don't you think?" then picked up the notebook with the writing on it and frowned, "What's this? Something Sam found?" she asked.

"Something like that," Sam answered easily as she tossed the notebook back onto the table.

"What is it?" she asked making a quick run to the kitchen where she helped herself to a beer before returning to the group.

"Well we're not exactly sure, but we think it has something to do with part of what we're going over this weekend," Dean explained.

"Which is what exactly?" she asked, turning and wrapping her arm around his waist, her fingers running over an awful lot of texture beneath his t-shirt, "I mean Bobby was more than just a little cryptic over the phone, new players in town, asking if I'd noticed anything strange during any exorcisms or anything..." she frowned, stepped back and took hold of the bottom of his shirt, "What the hell's going on under there?" she asked starting to lift it up.

"Hey... hey... whoa..." Dean turned out of her reach.

"Alright, alright... geez, s'not like I haven't seen it before... how many stitches you got going on under there anyway?" she asked.

"Enough," he nodded stiffly, his mouth twitching up in an awkward sort of smile.

"Alright," she nodded then tapped her bottle to each of those of the men, "It really IS great to see you all again, the worst part is being out there alone y'know?"

"Well, before we go into why Bobby called everyone here this weekend, we're waiting for someone else to get here," Sam said softly.

"Anyone I know?" she asked grabbing a handful of nuts from a bowl that had been hidden beneath the books' cover.

"Her name's Laura, she' a hunter," Dean said.

Mercy shook her head, "Hmm, don't know her," Mercy smiled, "So what's she bringing to the party?" she asked.

Smirking comfortably Dean's attention was diverted to the window as was everyone elses' when tires chewed gravel up the driveway.

"Ahhh the muttonheads..." Bobby smirked then met eyes with Ajax, "S'okay," he nodded before the dog's head went back down onto his paws for a second before he flipped onto his side and finally rolled onto his back.

--

THE NIGHT BEFORE LAST; The Twilight Bar and Grill, Fort Dodge Iowa.

The tendrils of its consciousness snaked up through the earth, gliding into the minds and hearts of the men surrounding the emissary with ease. The same thing that made it easy to reach inside them and manipulate their weaknesses somehow had managed to cut hers off from it. But it could and would, still have its way. It knew her now, it knew how to gut and fillet her strengths leaving them tattered and useless no matter how different from the rest of the humans she may be.

It whispered each man's insecurities, guilts and anguishes deep into their blood one by one, its energy filling them up, lighting their self loathing afire, assuring each of them that this woman somehow KNEW whatever it was they each could not face.

Seven hundred and fifty miles away, the bulk of the body it had been using began to change. Atoms changed, drawing on the material around it to alter their weight and composition, casting off electrons, adding protons, using what each one could as the memory of what it once had been came seeping back to this world, and as it did so while slowly, drawing on the passive and active life forces it was in touch with including those circling the emissary, it began to remember what real power felt like.

Sheltered by distance it played carelessly with its toys, abusing them, laughing as it drank of their lives from the inside while the emissary either battered or was battered by them on the outside. It felt each human want to stop as she tried to ply her gifts against its will, the conflict tearing each of them apart in mind. If it had decided that any of its toys should survive, what would have remained would be a tissue paper husk where other worldly nightmares roamed and railed with maddening impotence against captivity.

It looked out from one of its puppets eyes at a world that lay sideways. Bodies strewn across the floor and yet somehow the emissary remained, breathing hard and on her knees before this dying human, covered in blood and sweat it watched her waver. It watched her watch as the bodies, all but the last living man who'd stood beside her, began to dry, the skin of each one turning crisp, drawing in on itself as every useable part of the being was drawn out. It watched the female comprehend what it was doing and collapse, exhausted, wounded, and helpless to stop any of it.

Perfect... it thought, sending portions of that energy back, literally blasting it outward, particles of energy forced so quickly, so tightly packed that lines of fuel were helpless against it. Somewhere in the back of the building something exploded, and miles away a strange rumbling shook the forest floor as it laughed.

--

tbc.

Please R&R.

Thank You.

sifi.