Warnings: Angst, past torture, swearing and violence

As always, huge huge thank-yous to kiss316 for pointing out stuff!

Legend Killer Chapter 13

The paint gelding strained for breath in the thin air as Seth urged it up the slope of the mountain even faster. Despite the gelding being from excellent stock and Seth himself a top-notch rider, they were unable to gain any ground on Dean. Ambrose had too much of a head start and that sorrel mustang of his was as sure-footed as a mountain goat. Far ahead and above, he caught a glimpse of Dean holding one of his regular revolvers in his hand, ready to shoot the minute a target presented itself. He hoped that Dean's gunslinger reflexes were their usual lightning speed because if the shooter got Dean...

Despite willingly having obeyed Randy's order to leave the gravely wounded Roman in his and John's care, Seth still hated himself. He completely understood Randy's reasoning though, because if Roman died then everything was on Dean. And it wasn't that he didn't have faith in Dean, far from it. But Dean was mentally unstable and his tendency to follow his own unpredictable instincts and twisted logic often led him into danger, case in point. Roman was the reliable one whom Seth always counted on to be there.

And if Roman died, (oh god if Roman died) then Dean alone would wield the Angel of Death's guns until another dying killer prayed for their life. Underneath Seth, the paint stumbled over the rocky ground but was able to regain its balance and forge on. White lather dripped from the horse's neck where the reins rubbed against the sweat. Frustrated, he dug his spurs into the paint gelding's sides, asking for even more from the animal. Seth wasn't a religious man, but now all he could do was pray to any deity who happened to be paying attention that Roman and Dean would be okay.

Further up the mountain, as he closed in on the spot where he thought the shot had originated, Dean guided his sorrel in an uneven slalom through the pine trees to ensure whoever shot Roman couldn't be able to get a clear shot on him. Climbing a mountain took a significant amount of time even on horseback and presented far more opportunities to a shooter. That thought was far in the background of his mind however, almost instinctive. He was far more concerned about letting the shooter get away alive. Even though he never once took his eyes off of the place, the trees and rocks often obscured his view and he fretted that the shooter could slip away. He gritted his teeth in frustration and urged the horse to go faster. The horse itself was blowing like a freight train, nostrils flaring red but Dean didn't let up. They finally reached the rocky area and Dean sat up to aim his revolver, pulling the sorrel to a stop so hard the horse gaped its mouth against the pressure of the bit on its tongue and bowed its chin into its chest.

"Fuck!"

The spot was empty but he could clearly see where the grass had been flattened by someone who had recently lain there. "Where is he, where is he, where is he," Dean muttered aloud to himself. Glancing around, he could see Seth frantically urging his horse up the mountain after him. Much further below, he could barely make out Randy and John, still crouching over Roman. He couldn't tell if Roman was alive or not. Seeing that sight further enraged Dean and he returned his gaze to the ground. He spun the heaving sorrel in a circle, looking for tracks.

There!

Leading away from the spot around to the other side of the mountain, faint boot prints gave way to easier-to-follow hoof prints. The trail led through the rock-strewn grasses heading deeper into the trees and down the backside of the mountain. He spurred the sorrel gelding again and the horse took off, jumping rocks and skidding down the slippery carpet of pine needles. Finally, they hit level ground at the base of the mountain and Dean smacked the ends of the reins on the horse's rump. The horse responded by bolting so fast Dean had to grab a handful of mane to keep from falling off backwards. The trees blurred by as they raced past. He looked up and saw a clearing ahead of them and leaned to turn the horse before they barreled right into the open. Instinct warned Dean and he ducked a split second before a bullet slammed into a tree beside him, the buzzing of its passage was loud in his ears. Furious, he hauled back on the reins and just as the horse slid to a stop, he dove out of the saddle, rolling with the momentum and ended up with his back pressed against the trunk of a tree, keeping the pine between himself and the shooter.

He nearly passed out from the pain as his cracked ribs screamed at him, and he felt the sharp stinging where the stitches on his chest and back had torn loose from his fall. Black spots swam in his vision but he ignored the pain as he gripped his revolver tight and took a breath. He had a general idea of where the bullet had originated from. That would be enough. He looked down at his chest; blood was soaking through his shirt. He gritted his teeth at the pain, and then ignored it. He had more important things to do, like kill a man. He checked the load of his gun. Despite the silence, Dean was sure the guy was still in the area.

Then the quiet was broken by Seth's paint sliding to a stop nearby. A quick look in that direction told him that Seth had drawn his revolver too, his hands still covered in Roman's blood. Seth quickly dismounted and took cover when he saw Dean's horse nearby, breathing heavily and head hanging low. Strangely enough, the shooter did not take a shot at Seth. Dean frowned but waved a hand to catch Seth's attention. Seth hurried over and crouched next to Dean. Seth's face was white when he saw the fresh blood on Dean's shirt but his voice was steady as he asked, "Are you shot?" He reached out to touch Dean's chest. Oh god not Dean too…

But Dean shook his head, screwing his eyes shut at the dizziness that followed. "No, just ripped some stitches." He huffed a breath as his ribs protested.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Seth turned and scanned the area. "Did you get him?"

"Not yet," Dean snarled, and then heaved himself back up to his feet, staggering enough that Seth had to put an arm out to steady him. Shaking his head to clear it Dean shouted to the general area. "Whoever you are, you are not getting out of this alive," he called out. His voice was raw, hoarse and hard. "You can run, but we will hunt you down and tear you apart for shooting our friend."

He was answered by silence. Not giving up, Dean shouted again, "You fucked up bad, mister. There is a US Marshal here and we will take your ass down."

"I AM a US Marshal, you idiot," was the calm reply, far closer than either Dean or Seth had anticipated. Both Seth and Dean gasped as they recognized the voice. It was US Marshal Dave Batista. Stepping out from behind a tree, he was holding a rifle on Dean, but hadn't pulled the trigger yet. Seth broke out into a cold sweat as he realized that the only reason Dean was still alive was because Dave wished it.

"Batista you son of a bitch!" Dean snarled and was about to aim his revolver at the man, but Seth grabbed Dean's arm. The lunatic didn't care that Batista had his gun aimed right at him, finger on the trigger. No matter how fast Dean was, there was absolutely no chance of beating Batista. Placing himself in front of Dean, Seth watched Dave warily.

"Put the gun away, Ambrose," Dave ordered. Snarling, Dean did as he was told. "Good, now both of you, lose the belts," He gestured to their gun belts. Reluctantly, both Seth and Dean undid their buckles and dropped their weapons. There was no chance of tricking Dave with a border roll maneuver.

"Why'd you do it, Dave?" Seth asked. Dave was too good of a Marshal to randomly shoot people. He had to have known the identity of his target. And if that was the case, Seth realized they were in deep trouble. "Why'd you kill Roman?" He felt Dean's body stiffen beside him at that and he reached out to grab his friend's arm again. He hated letting Dean think the worst had happened but it was imperative that Dave didn't know that Roman might be still alive.

"Orders. Reigns and Ambrose are to be killed on sight," Dave said, keeping his eyes pinned on Seth. He seemed to be searching for something but Seth had no idea what.

"Whose orders?" Dean growled in his normal voice.

"Who gave you those orders?" Seth asked at the same time. He mentally breathed silent thanks when he realized that Batista was a human. Dean would not have stood in front of a demon without calling upon the Saint of Killers. Or maybe he would have, knowing Dean's utter recklessness. But that was neither here nor there. He'd asked the question to stall for time. He already knew the answer. He needed time to come up with a plan to save Dean.

As if he were able to read Seth's mind, Dave smirked. "You know who gives me my orders."

"Hunter," Dean said. It wasn't a guess. The only person who could give a Marshal an order was a judge.

"Of course it was Hunter. Did you really think he wouldn't see right through your story, Rollins?" Dave shrugged a single shoulder, the gun never wavering and his gaze was razor sharp. The man had been a Marshal longer than Dean and Seth's time combined and he was too experienced to let them get any advantage over him. "Hunter knows about Ambrose and Reigns deserting and turned outlaw. I've heard they've murdered the town's deputies, the banker and the mayor's aide. And they plan to murder the Sheriff. I think that's enough to justify a Kill On Sight order, don't you? Now, do you have any other stupid questions to ask?" Dave was never one to beat around the bush.

Seth felt all the air go out of his lungs. Swallowing hard to get some moisture back into his mouth, he croaked, "How did Hunter know?" Hunter had given no indication at all that he hadn't believed Seth. And how the fuck did Hunter know exactly what Seth, Dean and Roman had been doing? Keeping a firm hand on Dean's arm, Seth could feel it shaking but he needed information, needed to know where he messed up.

And most important he needed to find a way get to Dean out of this alive.

Giving Seth a strange look, Dave replied, "Hunter just knows things. I learned a long time ago not to ask questions and follow orders. And my orders are to kill Reigns and Ambrose." He hesitated and then frowned, glaring at Seth. "But not you. He wants you alive."

Dean started to struggle against Seth's hold when he heard that. "I'll kill that son of a bitch," he vowed.

Ignoring Dean, Dave kept his eyes on Seth. "Move out of the way Rollins," he ordered, raising the rifle. "Ambrose is going to die for his crimes. However, even if I can't kill you, I have no issue with shooting you in the kneecap and dragging your lying ass back to Hunter."

"Dave, listen to me," Seth said through gritted teeth, hanging onto Dean's arm for dear life. He wasn't going to let Dean get shot because of his own hotheadedness. "This isn't what you think. Hunter is lying to you."

Cocking his head to the side, Dave paused and considered Seth. "That's a bold claim, Rollins. Accusing a federal judge of lying is a serious charge. Are you going to tell me that Reigns and Ambrose didn't kill several deputies and civilians in cold blood?"

"No," Seth answered honestly. He felt Dean's startled gaze on him, but ignored it. His entire focus was on Dave Batista. "They did it, but there are circumstances that you don't know about."

Batista blinked in surprise at Seth's flat-out admission of their guilt. "Well, let's hear them," he invited after a few heartbeats.

The fact that was willing to listen gave Seth hope that Dave might have reservations about Hunter. He tried to build on it. "After Roman pissed off Hunter, he sent the three of us out to be ambushed by the Wyatt family. You remember them? They knew we were coming for them, Roman specifically." He wasn't sure how to broach the demon part of the issue yet. But if he could just get Dave to listen, they might have a chance. "They set a trap for us. Hunter even sent Glenn out to see if it worked."

"Do you have proof?" Dave asked. He still hadn't lowered his rifle but he was listening. Ambushing a US Marshal was serious. Setting up three for an ambush by sadistic outlaws was reprehensible.

"They knew we were coming. Bray Wyatt told us," Seth said.

But Dave looked skeptical. "Bray Wyatt told you. And you believed him?"

"Yes."

Blowing out a breath, Dave asked, "Did he name Judge Hunter specifically?" This was the most important question.

"No," Seth said reluctantly.

"This is such bullshit!" Dean snarled. "We all know Hunter is dirty, why does it matter if Wyatt named him explicitly or not?"

"Because Hunter has his father-in-law on the US Supreme Court backing him! Do you think Judge McMahon will believe the word of a lying deputy, a dead murderer and a deserter over his son-in-law?" Dave snapped. "It doesn't help your case to be running around killing lawmen, you moron! What the fuck are you thinking?"

"I am thinking they are all demons!" Dean shouted back, finally getting his arm free from Seth's grip. He glared at Dave. His wild eyes made him look as insane as his words. "Bray Wyatt and his family, Sheriff Barrett and his deputies Are All DEMONS!"

Seth almost screamed in frustration as he watched their credibility fly out the window and Dave, who had seemed to be on the verge of listening to their story, sneered at Dean. "Demons? Really? That's your story? I always thought you were nuts, Ambrose. Now I know for sure. "

"Dave, I know it's hard to believe," Seth said frantically trying to salvage something of the situation. "But Dean's not lying." He stepped up right in front of Dave's rifle, holding his gaze with determination. "He's right," he said again. "The Wyatts were demons. So are Sheriff Barrett and his deputies."

"Seth..." Dean started to say something but Seth only wanted Dean to shut the hell up while he tried to undo the damage Dean's claim did to their credibility. He hadn't noticed how utterly still everything was around them. All his attention was on Batista. "Dean, shut up!" he ordered never looking away from Dave. "Dave, I swear we are telling the truth. We've seen them!" he insisted.

"Seth..." Dean tried again more urgently, shaking Seth's arm to get his attention but Seth was done with Dean's recklessness. He jerked his arm free with a hiss of annoyance.

Looking between the two of them, Dave shook his head, "I'm putting an end to this insanity now. Move out of the way Rollins, unless you want to be crippled the rest of your life." He swung the rifle up and aimed it at Dean who was looking away, at something Seth couldn't see.

"No!" Seth shouted as he moved the keep his body between Dean and Batista. The report of a gun firing filled his ears and he braced himself to feel the rush of pain from a bullet. But instead of hot lead, Seth was abruptly shoved to the ground by Dean. Dean himself was diving away just as more bullets flew by directly where the lunatic had been standing a bare second before. Dave, never one to be caught off-guard, was still on his feet but had taken cover behind a nearby tree trunk. He turned the rifle in the direction the bullets had come from and looked for a target to shoot. Seth looked around frantically for Dean, but the lunatic had disappeared into the brush.

There was a pause in the bullet storm and then a horribly familiar voice called out, "Finally found you!" Wade Barrett, his eyes solid black, strolled into view. Blood from where he had been shot a few hours earlier was still seeping down his chest, staining his shirt. But what should have been a fatal wound to a human was barely a scratch to a demon. There was a creepy smile on his face like he was enjoying a huge, private joke. His skin was pure white with very prominent deep blue veins.

From his hiding spot, Dean could clearly see the demon inside the human shell. This was the same creature that tortured him the day before. His lips twisted in into a snarled of rage and mentally called out, Hey get your ass over here old man, borrowing Randy's nickname for the Saint, the fucking Nexus is here.

There was no answer.

Nearby, Seth was waiting with wide, expectant eyes. If Dean summoned the Saint now, he would be focused on Wade and it was up to Seth to prevent Dave from interfering. Luckily Dave's attention was on Wade. Seth looked around for his gun belt, but it was out of reach and he would be too exposed if he made for it. He needed to wait for his opportunity.

Annoyed at the lack of response from the Saint, Dean mentally called again. God dammit old man, where the fuck are you? he demanded. Wade's proximity made his skin crawl and all he wanted to shut the son of a bitch up, permanently.

"Don't bother, Moxley," Barrett called to him as if he could read Dean's mind. "Your precious Saint is dealing with the Beast. And while he is, I am going to kill you and get myself a couple of new recruits." He nodded in Seth and Batista's direction, who was glaring in puzzlement not realizing just exactly he was dealing with. He snapped off a few more rounds in Dean's direction.

Seeing Barrett's badge, Dave called to Barrett. "Aren't you the local Sheriff, Wade Barrett?" he asked, stepping out from behind the tree. Even though he was a mere human, he could feel something 'off' about Barrett and he didn't lower the rifle. "You know it's a federal crime to shoot at a US Marshal." His voice was calm, but there was an element of rage underneath. "Put the gun down."

"All I want is to kill Moxley here," Barrett drawled as he shot a nasty look in Dean's direction. "You yourself said he was Kill On Sight and I am well within my rights to shoot him."

"God dammit old man, where the fuck are you?" Dean shouted in frustration, giving his location away. Dave looked over at him with raised eyebrows and Wade laughed and raised his gun, aiming at Dean. Seth was starting to leap forward to shield his brother with his body, knowing he could never get there in time…

And then the Saint came and everything changed.

An icy wind roared through the clearing and even Dean didn't recognize the spirit when it appeared. It was nothing like the previous encounters. Before the Saint of Killers had been a presence that he could almost relate to. It had a personality. It looked like their friend Mark Callaway for fuck's sake. But this? This was rage, cold and hard like old ice. Like the lowest pit of Dante's hell. For the first time Dean saw the spirit in all its unleashed fury and it was nothing like he had ever imagined.

Dave and Seth fell back, not able to see it but the feel of it staggered them. Barrett was all but forgotten in the awesome and terrifying arrival of the Saint. But it never occurred to Dean to be intimidated, even by this version of Saint of Killers. "What took you so long?" he demanded.

The Saint of Killers didn't answer. His eyes glowed pure white and his face was as expressive as granite. Finally Dean truly believed this was something that endured the tortures of hell by the sheer amount of cold hate in its being. He paused, then asked, "What happened, what changed?"

There was no indication the Saint heard him. Instead, the spirit walked toward him, and then into him. The awful bitter rage was filling him and Dean would have screamed if he had been physically able to. The Saint's hate and rage were so cold that it burned and Dean felt how much the Saint had been holding back in their previous encounters. In its wrath, the Saint unleashed its full power and Dean was utterly helpless against it. His soul ached from the spirit's deep cold hate. And then with no consideration for what it was doing to Dean, the Saint drew a Colt Walker, shot Barrett in the head and disappeared, leaving Dean mercifully unconscious on the ground.

The thunder of the Colt Walker faded after rolling off the nearby mountains and for several long heartbeats there was nothing but silence. Then Dave drew a gasping breath. The echo of Ambrose's ridiculously big revolver still reverberated in his mind. But was worse was the expressionless face of Ambrose before he had shot Barrett. Those white eyes had been devoid of humanity, even Dean's insane brand. It felt like Death itself had stood a mere few feet from him and then turned away. He shuddered again. "What the fuck was that?" he asked in horror, swinging the rifle back to cover Seth who had run to Dean. "What the hell was wrong with Barrett?" Dave asked, trying to get his mind around what had just happened. "Was it rabies or something?"

"That was a demon," Seth told him from the where he crouched next to Dean. He felt Dean's neck for pulse with one hand, keeping the other in Batista's sight at all times. He had never seen such an expression of agony on Dean's face, right before the frightening blankness overtook it as he killed Barrett, and wondered what it meant. His friend had taken such a beating lately Seth was starting to get scared that he might lose both Roman and Dean. But there was nothing he could do for Roman. Dean on the other hand was still his responsibility. If he could keep Dave's focus away from Dean long enough...the beginning of a plan started to form in his mind. Dave looked spooked enough to start shooting without provocation. Despite being completely off-kilter by what he had just witnessed, Dave had the presence of mind to keep the rifle aimed at Seth and his finger in the trigger.

"Bullshit," Batista said. "It had to have been rabies." His eyes were still a bit bugged out but he was recovering his poise quickly.

Impatiently, Seth snapped, "Use your eyes, Dave! He wasn't foaming at the mouth, he wasn't staggering. I'm telling you that it was a demon. Look, I know it's hard to believe but it's true." Sighing, Seth stood up and walked towards Wade's corpse. "Look over here," he said, pointing to the body. "You see that? He had been shot before; right in the chest If Barrett had been normal that bullet would have killed him."

"Then how did Ambrose kill him?" Dave asked, taking a few steps in that direction so he could see the remains of the demon-infested human more clearly.

"The gun is a special Colt Walker designed to kill demons." And other things but Batista didn't need to know that.

"Where did Ambrose get it? And where did it go?" There was no sign of the gun now and that had Batista spooked more than anything. "Where did you hide it?"

"I didn't do anything," Seth said patiently while trying to keep Dave's attention on himself. "We found it while we were dealing with the Wyatts." Seeing as it would be a while before Dean recovered and Dave hadn't shot him yet, Seth explained the situation, starting with the set up by Hunter, being ambushed by the Wyatts, Roman meeting the Saint of Killers, and finally Carcosa. As Seth spun the long version of the tale, a bird chirped nearby and a squirrel darted across a branch. The normal forest sounds were starting to resume, but there was still a subdued quietness in the area. He waited for Dave's reaction.

"If I were to believe what you're saying, and that's a big if, are you absolutely sure it was Hunter that set you up?" Dave asked at length.

"Yes, I'm sure of it. It was too much like what happened to Orton to be a coincidence." Seth had an idea and wanted to test Dave's reaction to Randy's name, and Dave's expression told him he'd hit paydirt.

"Wait, how the fuck does Orton fit in?" Dave asked, finally forgetting about Dean which was Seth's plan all along.

"The same thing happened to him," Seth said. "Randy and his deputies were set up to be fed to the Benoit."

"Benoit was a demon?" Dave went pale.

"Yeah. A rather nasty one too." Seth said, mercilessly.

"Oh Hunter you fucking bastard," Dave muttered.

"What are you talking about?" Seth could guess but he wanted Dave to say it out loud. The man wiped a hand over his face and lowered the rifle a bit. Not far enough for Seth to do anything though.

"When Ric and I captured Benoit and his men, Hunter ordered me to give Benoit the key to the prison wagon. He said he wanted test Orton to see if he could handle a prisoner escaping. Fuck, you have to believe me. I didn't know!"

"That you handed Randy and those kids to a demon on a silver platter to be tortured and killed?" Seth finished for him fighting to control his disgust. Dave looked horrified and ashamed and Seth was glad for it. But his real anger was directed towards Hunter, for what he did to Randy, and to Roman and Dean.

"Did you hear what happened to those boys?" Dave asked, looking sick.

Seth shook his head. Randy refused to talk about it. The men that found and rescued Randy had vanished soon after they brought him back to Mark. Even the nosiest of deputy Marshals hadn't been able to find out any of the details about the incident. Ted and Cody had been buried quietly in graves in the area where they had died.

"I talked to one of the men that found Orton and saw the bodies. Benoit and his men were dead of a single bullet wound. But Dibiasi and Rhodes had been hung from the prison wagon. Their backs had been cut open and their lungs had been pulled out like wings, while they were still alive. They lived for a while after. Randy had been tied down to the ground and forced to watch. He managed to get free and kill Benoit and the two others but he was gutshot and feverish from the burns on his shoulders. He was still trying to cut those boys down when they found them."

"My god," Seth looked down and away, trying to hide his horror from Dave.

"Hunter thought that watching those boys die was the reason Orton went crazy and started killing people. But I never understood how watching your friends tortured in front of you would make you kill innocent people."

"He wasn't crazy," Seth said, still feeling sick for Randy. Not even Bray Wyatt had done something so depraved. "Every person he 'murdered' starting with Benoit was a demon."

"Fuck," Dave swore quietly.

Seeing Barrett's body, Seth was reminded of something else and he shook his head. "Oh yeah, we have another dead US Marshal now too," he sighed. Seeing Dave's puzzled expression, he explained about Cena being tainted with demon blood. "So he's probably dead now."

"Christ," Dave said, damned near overwhelmed by what he had just learned. He looked back at Dean, who was pale and still. "Is it always like that?" Seeing Seth's quizzical look, he clarified. "The Saint. The possession. Is it always so cold and violent?"

That had honestly scared Seth. "No, that's the first time I've seen him like that," he said. "Dean seemed to think something happened." Fuck, what had happened? No way of finding out until Dean woke up and told him though. Keeping his mind focused on the task at hand, he asked, "So how is this going to play out, Dave? Are you going to kill Dean and bring me back to Hunter?"

Torn, Dave shifted from foot to foot. "An hour ago I had all the answers. But now...look, I saw what happened and I'm not a fool. And it's obvious that Hunter's been using me," he nodded at Seth. "I'm done with this shit. Hunter can do his own dirty work for once."

"Good," Seth said, satisfied. "I'd advise you to leave the country. After what you did, both Ambrose and Orton are coming after you."

"Rollins, listen. I know you aren't telling me everything, and if even half of what you are saying is true, it's scaring the shit out of me," Dave said, lowering his rifle completely now. Seth raised an eyebrow at that but Dave shook his head and slung the rifle over his shoulder. "I have no idea if I can ever make it up to Orton or to Ambrose but I want to try."

Trying not to look surprised, Seth smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile. "I'm not sure how you can do that. Shooting Roman was unforgivable." He swallowed hard and looked away. His last memory of Roman was of Randy and John crouched over his friend, trying to stop the blood from pouring out of his chest. But Roman was still alive when Seth left and for that reason alone, he had hope. It was strange how Hunter had known where Roman and Dean were.

"I know and I'm sorry. Look, Hunter and I go way back and I think he still trusts me. I can help you figure out how Hunter knows about what you've been doing. You need to know how he gets his information and how to stop him".

"That would be handy," Seth admitted. He then asked the question that had been bothering him since this whole thing began. "Why do you think Hunter is helping demons?"

Batista stared at Seth. His first instinct was to deny it. But he couldn't. There was too much evidence. "I have no idea," he finally said. "I would hope that it's all a misunderstanding, but…" he shrugged helplessly.

"Find out," Seth said briskly, keeping Dave's attention on himself. "And when you do, find me." Seeing Dave's raised eyebrows, he shrugged. "Hunter knows about us. I can't go back."

"Okay, I'll figure out something," Dave said, not seeing the movement behind him.

"Be careful," Seth warned. "Until we can figure out how he knows, you'll likely be in danger."

"It's the least I can do," Batista said and held out his hand. Seth reached out to shake it when the report of a gun rolled off the mountains, the echo dying gradually. Dave staggered briefly, but regained his balance. He swallowed and coughed, the thick blood choking him. He opened his mouth to say something to Seth, but blood poured out instead. Impassive, Seth watched Dave sink to his knees, blood pouring out of mouth and down the front his shirt. Then he slumped to the ground, dead.

"About time," Seth said.

Dean moved into a sitting position, pale as a ghost but his indomitable will to avenge his brother was stronger than ever. He looked at Batista's body, cocking his head to one side. "That was for Roman you son of a bitch."

Seth drew in a breath. "And for Orton." What that guy had lived through...

"Nah," Dean said, his eyes were hard. "That one's on Hunter. What do you say, brother? Shall we go judge hunting?"

TBC