Has it already been over a year since I started this? Wow, time sure flies. Anyway, a big thank you to all of you who have stuck with this story and have taken the time to review. It is literally all of you who keep me going with Legend Killer.

And as always a big, huge thank you to Kiss316 for going over the chapter looking for inconsistencies, asking questions and being awesome in general. It bears repeating: You rock!

Legend Killer Chapter 15

"I think the Saint just went to war with Heaven."

Dean spit out his coffee and started to laugh. Ignoring him, Seth glared at Randy. "You have got to be fucking kidding me," he said.

"I wish I were," Randy said, shooting an annoyed look at Dean who was damned near giggling. Still feeling weak, he lowered himself to the ground and sat cross legged. His roan nuzzled at the back of his neck, lips twitching until Randy gently shoved the horse's head away from him.

"Why would he do that?" Seth asked. Going to war with Hell he could see, but Heaven?

With John providing supporting commentary, Randy caught Seth and Dean up on the events in town, starting with the unexpected but welcome appearance of Mark and ending with him and John getting the hell out of there pursued by the Beast.

"Mayor Michaels was an angel?" Seth mused. "I knew there was something weird about that guy. He was too perfect."

"Was, being the operative word," John said, walking nearby. His mare was catching her breath and looking a bit perkier "I think they underestimated how annoyed the Saint would be at their proposition."

Seth thought about that, and then he frowned abruptly at John. "Wait a minute, why are you still around?" he asked. Seeing John's puzzled expression, he said, "Dean killed Barrett."

John and Randy exchanged glances. "Oh shit," Randy finally said, his shoulders slumping as he rubbed his neck.

"What?" John asked.

"Barrett must have found some poor fool before Dean got him," Randy sighed in resignation. He felt like utter crap and judging from the dark circles under Dean's eyes and his pale skin; he was too was still feeling the effects of the Saint's rage probably even worse than Randy, after having been tortured by Nexus.

"We need to find him," Seth said.

"And if we do, what then? Saint isn't listening," Randy said. He looked over at Dean. "Have you tried to summon him?" he asked.

That sobered the lunatic up a bit. "Not since Barrett," Dean said shortly and glanced away.

Nodding, Randy understood Dean's reluctance, but bracing himself he tried anyway, mentally calling out. Silence fell over them for a minute, and then Randy shook his head. "He's not answering." This was a first and for all his personal issues with the Saint, he was a bit concerned. Not for the old man he told himself, but for Ambrose and Reigns.

"We still need to take Hunter down," Dean suggested. "He's on his way to Helena."

"But the Beast is in Helena," Seth argued. "That means Hunter is going to be out of our reach for the time being. We can't stay here like sitting ducks while the Saint off doing whatever the fuck he's doing," Seth walked over to his paint and checked the girth of the paint's saddle as he mind raced to come up with a workable plan.

"So where do we go?" John asked. The mare had caught her breath and was showing interest in some nearby grass. He made a quick check of her shoes; just to be sure she was ready to go if they needed to take off in a hurry again and re-tightened her girth as well.

"We head north to the Nations. Dean needs to recover. We let the Saint get over his snit, and then get back to work. While we're there maybe Crowfoot will want to fix John," Seth said firmly. John's smile was thin.

"We're not going anywhere without Roman," Dean argued, starting to get mad. "We can't just take off and leave him." He looked at Seth like he couldn't believe what he was suggesting.

"Mark got him out of town." John said. "We don't know where they went."

"Then we go find them," Dean insisted. He didn't miss the looks exchanged between Randy and John. "What? Are you just going to run away and leave him? Well fuck that! Roman is our brother and we need to make sure he's okay." He stomped towards his horse, intent on finding Roman with or without the others' help.

"Dean wait," Seth said following the lunatic to his horse and grabbing the bridle before Dean could. "We have no idea where to start looking for Roman. And we can't go back to town."

"If you're afraid of the Beast," Dean started but Seth was shaking his head.

"You know I'm not, but we have to be smart about this. We have to wait until the Saint comes back. Then we'll get the Beast. And if Mark is hiding Roman, then our stumbling around looking for them will only make it easier for the others to find them. Do you trust Mark?" Seth asked, staring directly into Dean's eyes.

Shifting from foot to foot Dean didn't answer right away, but finally he gave a grudging nod. The fact that Dean had such unquestioning faith in the doctor was unusual. But then again, everything about Dean was unusual. Seth trusted Dean's judgment where Mark was concerned.

"Mark didn't turn on us when I asked him to watch Hunter for us, and he didn't turn on Orton when he was shot. Let him take care of Roman the same way." Seth's eyes bored into Dean's. He lowered his voice so only Dean could hear. "You know I'm worried about Roman, but he's not the only one I care about. I don't want to lose you too."

Dean stared at Seth almost in wonder. Then he smiled a thin-lipped smile and nodded. "Okay then," he said. "Let's go meet Crowfoot."

"Let's get going before something else goes wrong," John suggested. They all mounted up, Randy and Dean a bit slower than usual, but they set out at an easy walk, pausing to let the horses drink their fill at the stream before heading out. Randy led the way as they headed north through the mountains, sticking to deer trails in order to bypass Helena. The air grew thin as they gained elevation. Off to the west, far beyond the rounded mountain tops they traveled through, they could see jagged snow-covered peaks of another mountain range.

After a while Randy turned northeast and kicked his horse into a jog to make better time. The mountains opened up to the east to reveal flat plains. The thick stands of lodgepole pine trees turned into sparse scrubby shrubs and long grasses interspersed with sagebrush. Once out of the mountains, Randy opened the pace up to a lope, heading north parallel to the mountain range. By the time the sun was sinking down in the northwest, John's back and neck were aching fiercely. Dean looked pale and miserable and even Seth, who was in excellent condition, was slumped wearily in the saddle. The never-ending chain of mountains stretched out to their left, heading north alongside them. The mountains had been getting steadily taller and more rugged, topped with granite rather than trees.

Finally Randy called for a halt next to a wide, swift flowing stream, chattering over the worn river rocks. "We make camp here," he said. Relieved, they dismounted. There were a few pines and several large boulders nearby but otherwise the area was desolate. The air was distinctly cool.

"How much further?" John asked, hoping he didn't sound as exhausted as he felt.

"We're nearing the borders," Randy said. That was the only reason he had allowed them to stop. He knew this area and it was less likely for a demon to wander in without repercussions. "Ambrose, you and I will take shifts tonight," he said as they started to make camp. John collected some wood for a fire. Seth spread out a wool blanket for Dean. The blond man looked like he was about to collapse.

"John and I can take turns as well," Seth started to say but Randy shook his head.

"You guys can't sense demons like we can. There is another member of Nexus out there. If he knows about the Saint then he'll be after us. He will be able to follow Cena like a bloodhound. The last thing we need is for you and John to get taken over. We won't be able to kill you."

Seth wanted to argue with him, but he couldn't. Instead, he compromised. "Fine, but I'll watch with Dean and John will watch with you." John nodded in support of that proposition.

"Suit yourself," Randy shrugged. Normally he preferred being alone on watch, but being around other people, people who understood him and what he did, had thawed something deep inside him. He almost welcomed the company, truth be told. He hadn't realized how lonely he had been. Seeing the close friendship between Ambrose, Rollins and Reigns, despite the whole Saint of Killers involvement gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, he didn't need to isolate himself quite so much.

After a meal of cold biscuits, cheese and jerky, they bedded down for the night. Having taken a short nap, Dean and Seth took the first watch while Randy and John caught what sleep they were able to. The fire died down to glowing embers, occasionally flaring when a stray breeze stirred them.

Away from the fire, the stars flickered brilliantly overhead. A coyote yipped far off in the distance and insects filled the air with their songs. But other than that, then night was quiet. Dean's back was pressed against Seth's. Even if it bothered Dean's injuries, he still wanted to feel the comfort of Seth's presence. The cold of the Saint's rage was still in his bones but Seth's warmth helped to ease it.

"How are you doing?" Seth asked Dean, his voice low.

Dean twitched a bit before he answered. "I'm okay. Worried about Roman though," he said.

"Me too," Seth admitted.

They didn't talk for the rest of their watch.

Roman was hot, so hot. His body was on fire. It was dark and hard to breathe. Every time he tried to draw a breath, a horrible pain like a hot boulder sitting on his chest prevented him from getting enough air. He tried to struggle, to breathe, but there was only the suffocating pressure in his chest. The world swayed and jolted, sending searing bolts of pain through him. He must be in Hell, he decided.

"Just lie still," a deep voice told him and it was impossible to disobey that command. Unconsciousness closed in again.

When Roman woke again, the swaying and jolting had stopped. He was lying flat on his back, the ground rough and uneven under him but mercifully still. It was still dark, but he dimly realized that his eyes were closed. After several attempts, he finally was able to peel his eyelids open and he squinted up into the star-filled sky. The smell of wood smoke and the crackle of a fire caught his attention and he turned his head. A small campfire burned merrily nearby, giving off more light than heat. But Roman was still so hot that sweat rolled off his skin despite the cool night air. He tried to speak, but his throat was so dry he couldn't manage more than a croak of air. Then there was a hand behind his head, lifting him up and there was a cup pressed to his lips. The water was cool, so cool he knew he could never get enough. And sure enough, the cup was pulled away far too soon and he scowled in annoyance.

"Take it easy, I'll get you more," the deep voice said, sounding amused.

He knew that voice, but he couldn't remember exactly where he had heard it. It had always accompanied the lessening of pain, until recently. That version kept getting tangled up in his mind with another more violent version. A demon? He tried to shift the blanket off of himself, but his arms refused to move properly and when they did, he was shocked at how weak he was. He drew a breath but the pain in his chest flared and he gasped shallowly. The cup of water was back, only this time it tasted a bit sharp, like it wasn't completely water but he had no idea of what else it could be. He drained that cup as well. The hand eased his head back down and suddenly he started shivering. He was cold, so cold, even with the blanket.

"Lie still," the voice commanded and he found himself obeying without question as the darkness closed around him once again, taking him away from the heat, the chills and the pain.

Mark looked down at Roman Reigns, now unconscious thanks to the herbs he added to the water. The boy was shivering with fever, but he wasn't going to die from it. The Saint's strength would see to that. It had taken Randy Orton only about a month to recover from being gutshot, and his wounds had been compounded by the demon-blood burns that Benoit had painted across his shoulders. Reigns would take considerably less time to get back on his feet. But until then, Roman Reigns was vulnerable and Mark intended to get him to somewhere safe before they were found. Nearby, the pale horse snorted softly, its eyes reflecting the firelight. Roman's black horse was invisible in the darkness.

The next time Roman woke up, it was near dawn. The fire was now softly glowing embers. Once again Mark offered him water and checked the dressing. The wound was swollen and red, but Roman's fever was going down. The young man blinked and swallowed. He was more lucid this time. "What happened?" he rasped. He had tried and tried to remember, but the last thing he could recall was riding towards Helena.

"You were shot. Orton and Cena got you to me. It was too dangerous for you to stay in town with the Beast so close so I brought you here where it's a bit safer," Mark said as he helped Roman sit up a bit so he could drink easier. He offered more water infused with ginger to help fight any infection. Roman swallowed, making a face as the ginger burned his throat but he didn't complain. When he had finished the drink, Mark eased him back down.

"The others? What happened after?" Roman asked.

"After you passed out, I got you out of town before Orton and Cena confronted the Beast. I don't know what happened to Ambrose and Rollins," Mark said as he stirred the fire back to life to get some coffee brewing, sending sparks flying upward.

"Do you think they're okay?" Roman asked softly, feeling a thick layer of guilt settle over him. Dammit, his brothers were in trouble, he should be there with them! Instead he was lying around being useless.

Not fooled for an instant, Mark snorted. "Knock it off with the martyr routine, Reigns. It's damned near impossible to kill Orton. That guy has more lives than a cat. And he's watching out for your friends, so I wouldn't worry about them. If I know Randy Orton, and I do, he's got them headed for the Nations. Demons know to avoid Crowfoot's territory. The earth spirits that guarded that land would tear them apart. Ambrose and the others will be safe there."

"For how long?"

"As long as they need," Mark shrugged. He taped Roman on the forehead. "It's you that's still in danger. You need to concentrate on getting better. They're going to need you soon."

Roman nodded and closed his eyes, but despite his exhaustion he stayed awake. His mind was clearer now. He took a breath and willed his body to get stronger. He missed his brothers.

…

The demon showed up right before the sun rose. Randy and John had just returned from watch. The night had been quiet with barely a breeze to stir the trees. Seth and Dean were at the campfire. Dean was still sleeping; a lump under the blanket with tufts of blond hair sticking out. Seth was brewing the coffee. They didn't talk, Randy and John were too tired and Seth didn't want to wake a very grumpy Dean before the coffee was ready.

While they waited for the coffee, Randy and John took the horses to the stream to drink before they hit the trail again. As the animals slurped the icy water, Randy washed his face trying to get rid of the grit in his eyes. He froze as a slight movement nearby caught his attention. It was a rattlesnake, the biggest one he had ever seen and it seemed to be staring right at him. The viper would be torpid from the cold early morning air, but Randy didn't want to take any chances, especially with the horses. He was about to calmly mention to John they should move the horses a bit downstream when an uneasy feeling fell over him and he swore quietly, reaching for his gun while drops of water dripped down his stubble-covered cheeks. John looked at him from over the back of Dean's mustang.

"Nexus?" he asked in a hushed voice. Randy nodded once, not taking his eyes from the mountains to the west. He signaled for John to go back. John gathered the reins of the four horses, and headed back to the camp, leaving Randy alone at the stream. Seth looked up at John as he approached and understood the situation immediately. "Dean wake up!" he hissed.

Dean didn't move.

"Dean, Nexus is coming!" Seth said as he crossed over to where Dean lay and reached down to shake his shoulder. He was greeted with a gun in the face. Without batting an eye, Seth grabbed Dean's hand and pointed the gun elsewhere. "Dean, so help me god I will dump the coffee over your head if you shoot me."

Glaring up at Seth through his blond fringe, Dean said, "You waste my coffee I will shoot you for real," he promised. Jerking his gun hand free from Seth's grip, he grunted as he sat up, reaching for his ribs in an unconscious gesture to cradle them against the pain.

Seeing how pale Dean still was and how much pain he was in, Seth gently helped his friend get to his feet. "Are you up for helping Randy?" Seth asked, unable to hide his concern. "If not, I'll figure something out."

"I'm fine," Dean insisted despite it being obvious that he wasn't. He took a shallow breath and stuffed his gun back into its holster. "Get out of here," he told Seth, his voice gruff. The rope burns on his throat were fading but still noticeable. "Don't need you to get taken over by Nexus too."

Nodding, Seth clapped Dean on the shoulder. "Be careful. Like I said, I don't want to lose you." Like Roman, but he didn't say that out loud.

That softened the lunatic up a tick. "Same," Dean said reaching out the touch his fist to Seth's. Then he picked up Seth's rifle, checked the load and started walking towards the stream, calling over his shoulder, "I'll signal you when it's clear with this. Don't you dare touch my coffee before I've had some."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Seth murmured with a smile, barely loud enough for John to hear. They threw the saddles on their horses and mounted up.

"Which way?" John asked. He was still very stiff and sore, and was hoping this wouldn't take too long or get too exciting.

Seth was frowning but shook his head as if to clear it. He watched both Dean and Randy standing side by side near the stream, looking west. "East," he said and turned his horse in the direction of the rising sun. John followed.

"Think the Saint is done with whatever the fuck he's doing?" Dean asked Randy. The early morning air by the stream was cold. Cradling the rifle in his arms, he blew on his hands to keep feeling in them. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. There was silence except for the chattering of the stream in front of them as they both tried to call the Saint.

Nothing.

Randy shrugged. "I guess we'll just tie the son of a bitch up and drag his ass to the Crowfoot. That old man is merciless when it comes to demons. But we should get out of sight in case the bastard is armed. I don't feel like getting shot again."

That was something Dean agreed with wholeheartedly. There were some boulders scattered here and there. Randy stopped by his horse and grabbed a length of rope from his saddle. Using the boulders as cover they waited for the demon to show itself. It didn't take long before it came into view and Dean swore softly and shook his head. This situation was all sorts of wrong.

Randy made a noise in the back of his throat; it sounded something close to agony. "God damnit, Punk, not you," he breathed. How had this happened? Punk had his earth spirits to help protect him. He was too smart to get caught by demons. What the hell was happening? The shock of seeing Punk like this, a member of Nexus was almost too much. That had been his friend. Someone he trusted to watch his back. They had fought together, hunted together and laughed together. Randy owed him his life several times over. Now Punk's soul was dead and his body was being used by Nexus. And unless the Saint decided to show up, Randy couldn't even kill the body that once held the spirit of Punk. The part of him that had been thawing, the part that had hoped that he could have friends again froze solid in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Hey Randall! Look who we found!" the demon called out in Punk's voice. Punk's face was pale and covered in deep scratches. The demon sauntered to the edge of the stream. It was grinning as it splashed from rock to rock, lacking Punk's silent grace. "We've been looking for him for a long time. His stupid little earth spirits fought hard but they were no match for Nexus."

Sickened and enraged, Randy didn't reply.

Punk came closer, almost all the way across the stream. "You know, unless the old man agrees to work for us, we will just keep targeting anyone he comes in contact with. And of course that means that little US Deputy Marshal who's been running with you. And there's nothing you can do stop us!"

"Wish we could shut him the fuck up," Dean muttered, trying not to let Punk's words get to him but the thought of Seth getting possessed by Nexus made his skin crawl. He twitched with growing rage. A few yards away, Randy nodded in agreement, not trusting himself to speak just yet. He checked the load of his gun while he waited for Punk to come a bit closer.

"Oh hey Randall, did you mention to your pal here about how he would have gone to Heaven if that Saint had been reasonable? But that deal is off the table now. And the other guy, the one Batista shot? Yeah, he's totally down in hell as we speak."

Dean and Randy exchanged looks. Randy wasn't sure what Dean's reaction to that piece of news would be. Dean just shrugged. "Wasn't planning on getting there anyway," he said. Despite the situation, Randy huffed a small laugh. Seeing that, Dean's lip curled into a savage mockery of a smile as he answered Nexus. "I'm sure we can talk about it when I get down there. Oh wait, you won't be there." He aimed his revolver and fired a round at Punk who moved unbelievably fast. The bullet missed but Dean hadn't intended to shoot Punk, just to get his attention.

"Ah it's you, Moxley. Or should I say Ambrose? Bet you regret ever letting that old man use you. You know he doesn't give a shit about you, right? As far as he's concerned, you're just a piece of meat to use in order to kill. And if it comes down to it, he'll leave you to die alone and…AARRGH!"

Dean had fired another shot, this one slamming right into Punk's leg. The demon fell to the ground writhing in agony. "Hey, Punk!" he called. "Or should I say Nexus? It's two on one. We're going to finish you off once and for all." He was about to shoot at Punk again when a low buzzing from the vicinity of his feet caught his attention. With a shriek, Dean stumbled backward away from the cover of the boulder, his attention fixed on the rattlesnake that had been napping there. He swung the revolver around to shoot the snake but Punk's shout of triumph interrupted his terror. Dean braced himself to feel the pain of hot lead or the burn of venom. But instead, while the demon was focused on Dean, Randy charged. Before Punk could react, Randy kicked, trying to punt the demon in the head. But the demon moved at the last second and grabbed Randy's leg, sending him crash to the ground. Twisting to free himself, Randy reached down to pry the hand from his calf. With a sick grin, Punk grabbed his elbow and twisted it. Randy howled in pain as he felt his shoulder pull loose from its socket.

The cry of pain was enough to snap Dean out of his snake-induced terror. He came around the back of the demon and with one arm under Punks chin, forced his head back. In his other hand he held a knife. "Let go or I will blind you," he growled into Punk's ear. With a sneer, Punk released Randy.

Randy scrambled free with Punk's revolver in his good hand. The demon still had a knife but now the odds were much more to Randy's liking. With a grunt, Punk heaved Dean off his back and rose to his feet, grinning behind dead eyes. "You think you can take me without the Saint's help?" he asked as he turned to face Dean who was twisting to his feet. The demon took a step towards Dean when the rattlesnake struck, sinking its fangs deep into Punk's calf. The demon screamed in horror and with a flash of insight, Randy understood what was happening. He shouted to Ambrose, "Get the rope!" While Dean, pale and bug-eyed from being so near the viper, looked for the rope, Randy once again took Punk down to the ground. With a knee in the middle of Punk's back, he reached up and grabbed the rope out of midair after Dean had tossed it in his direction. It was difficult to tie Punk up with one good arm, but Ambrose produced a pair of handcuffs. Seeing Randy's look, Dean looked defensive. "What? It's not like Seth needs them."

Despite the snake venom burning through his veins, Punk started laughing. "What's so funny?" Dean demanded as he helped Randy bind the demon.

"You guys are such idiots," the demon sneered. His words were starting to slur.

"Says the demon who just got bit by a snake and tied up by a one-armed man," Dean jeered back. Then he remembered the snake and looked wildly around for it, but it had disappeared into the tall grass, making Dean even more nervous. He had kept jumping at every little movement he saw from the corner of his eye until Randy told him to knock it off.

"It's gone, Ambrose," he assured Dean. But Randy too was feeling uneasy. Not about the snake, but that there was more going on than they knew. "What do you mean?" he asked Punk suspiciously. With both of them being injured, the capture of Punk was too easy.

"You'll find out soon," Punk promised, its eyes were dilated. The demon was not reacting well to the venom which was exactly what should be happening, to Randy's satisfaction.

"Find out what?" Randy asked, as he crouched next to Punk, holding his injured arm against his side. But the demon was beyond talking and just shook its head.

"What was that about?" Dean said, still glaring at the grass.

"Not sure." Randy shook his head and said, "Let's just get him to the Nations. I am tired to death of dealing with Nexus." He stood up, still holding his useless arm close to his body. Together he and Dean dragged Punk's body back to the camp. In a show of uncharacteristic consideration for Randy's feelings, Dean gagged the demon too. Then he fired the rifle into the air. Seeing the coffee still near the fire, he grabbed a tin cup and poured himself some. He noticed Randy's arm hanging limp at his side. "Is it broken?" he asked.

Grimacing, Randy shook his head. "No, just dislocated." He set his jaw and held his arm out to Dean. "Hold on," he said and Dean took Randy's wrist in his grip with his free hand. White with pain, Randy pulled in the opposite direction. Slowly, the shoulder slid back into place. Randy heaved a breath in relief and sank to a knee, trying to push down the nausea in the back of his throat. Unimpressed, Dean sipped his coffee. Then he frowned. "Shouldn't they be back by now?" he wondered, looking around for Seth and John.

As soon as Dean said that, Randy knew something had gone wrong. Giving Dean a look, he awkwardly mounted up, the unconscious Punk forgotten and kicked the roan into a gallop. Dean must have been feeling the same because he wasn't even a hair behind, the sorrel mustang straining to keep up. Keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of Seth and John they raced recklessly through the tall grasses, jumping over the smaller boulders and serving around the bigger ones. Then Randy sat back and hauled back on the reins, stopping abruptly and Dean damned near ran the sorrel into the back of them. He swore loudly when he saw what Randy was looking at.

The bay mare was grazing near a prone body. It was John.

Both Randy and Dean drew their guns but there was no sign of who had done this. Keeping their eyes open in case of an ambush, they made their way over to John, always covering each other. Randy dismounted and crouched down to check the fallen marshal while Dean kept a look out. There was a rock nearby with blood on it. John's by the looks of it.

"What happened?" Randy asked John who was blinking in a daze but conscious.

"A couple of guys jumped us," John said, rubbing the back of his head. He winced as his fingers brushed over the large bloody lump.

"Where's Seth?" Dean asked, scanning the area like he was expecting Rollins to come out of the grass.

Pale, John shook his head gingerly. "They took him. I tried to stop them but something hit me hard and knocked me out. I'm pretty sure they were waiting for us." He gestured vaguely to the east.

Dean and Randy exchanged looks. "Oh god," Dean said as his stomach sank into his boots, knowing why Punk had essentially given himself up to them.

"Go!" Randy told him.

Swearing, Dean didn't stick around for more. He turned his horse towards in the direction John indicated, trying to pick up their trail. While Dean looked for clues as to who took Seth, Randy helped John to his feet with his good arm and led their horses back to the camp, John walking beside his horse with a hand on the stirrup for balance. With a groan of pain, John sat down near the dead fire while Randy took a piece of cloth and dampened it in the icy stream. He handed it to John, who took it gratefully and pressed it against the lump.

"Don't suppose you know how to fix a concussion?" he asked, only half-joking.

"Just time," Randy sighed as he got busy packing up his things. He had just finished fastening his saddlebags to the cantle of the saddle when Dean came galloping back. He pulled up right in front of Randy. "There were three of them. They're headed south at speed," he reported in agitation as he reined his horse to a stop.

He didn't have to mention that Helena was south. He also didn't say anything about the tracks he had found; there were two smaller sets and one bigger set. Seth had put up a fight but he couldn't take on three at once. "I'm going after him," he said, brooking no argument.

And they knew it was useless to try to talk him out of it. "Understood," John said.

"He's my brother," Dean said almost desperately, not sure why but he felt the need to explain. He wasn't able to completely hide his terror for Seth from them.

"We understand," John said. He felt sympathy for the former deputy US Marshal. It was obvious that losing both Roman and Seth was hurting Dean much more than his wounds ever could. He grinned ruefully. "I have lots of brothers."

"I don't," Dean muttered. He was looking expectantly at Randy who was sick at the decision he had to make. "I can't go with you, Ambrose. I have to get Nexus up to Crowfoot, otherwise it will escape again and this whole thing will start over," he said, genuinely regretting not being able to help.

"Dean…" John said helplessly. He could barely stand.

"That's fine. I work better alone," Dean practically snarled. He knew he wasn't being fair, but dammit Seth was in danger. As he turned his horse to go, Randy reached over with his good arm and grabbed the sorrel's bridle. Dean glared at Randy, almost drawing his sidearm, daring him to try and stop him. Instead, Randy said fiercely, "After you get Rollins, head straight north to the Nations. Don't try to confront the Beast or Hunter if you can help it. Unless the Saint comes back, then go ahead and waste the fuckers."

Dean looked at Randy and for once only nodded and turned his horse away as Randy let go. He put the spurs to the sorrel's sides and galloped off.

TBC