Thanks for reading and for all the awesome reviews!! bambers;)
Chapter Twenty-Three
John entered the small motel room that he'd been sharing with Bobby only to find the place so crowded with hunters that there was barely enough space to move around. The round table near the door had become a command center of sorts, and Ash was sitting there, busily typing away at his computer, searching for any information he could dig up on the cult that had taken Sam and Dean. Like Sam, Ash really knew his way around computers, and could usually find things others would simply overlook, and John was grateful that the younger man had agreed to help out.
Bobby was standing next to the wall, quietly talking to a medium built, golden-brown haired woman. Although she wasn't facing John, he instantly recognized her as Ellen Harvelle, and a deep scowl lit across his features.The last thing he needed right nowwas another confrontation with Ellen. Their last meeting was anything but amicable, and he seriously doubted that she'd forgiven him for what had happened to her husband Bill. It wasn't as if he blamed her for her anger, and a large part of himself felt it was well-deserved, but he just couldn't deal with another knock-down dragged out argument with her at the moment when his boys were in the hands of some lunatic.
With a slight nod toward Bobby, John turned to look at more familiar faces. Pastor Jim was sitting on the arm of the worn out old sofa, cleaning and checking his weapons. When he noticed John, the pastor gave him an encouraging smile and a determined nod that clearly said, we're gonna get your boys back or die trying.
Steve Wondell,who John had once saved from a shapeshifterwhile on a hunt in Minnesota, busied himself checking over the night vision gearand gas masks they would need later that night. John watched for a moment as the middle-aged man meticulouslyinspected all the gear and then moved on to check the tear gas canisters they would need to use to gain access into the inside of the compound.
John made eye contact with his longtime friend Deacon. An ex-marine turned police officer, Deacon could probably outgun most of the men in the room. It had taken some convincing on John's part to get Deacon there, and knew he would owe him big time for his help, but if he was going into battle there wasn't anyone more qualified than Deacon to be by his side.
Deacon brushed past John, and bobbed his head toward the door the eldest Winchester had just come through, and John started to turn on his heel to follow, but his stern gaze strayed and lingered on a younger hunter leisurely stretched out on John's bed. The young dark skinned man was busy sharpening his blade, but glanced up for a second and their eyes locked. There was a fierce darkness about the man's gaze that gave John pause.
It took all of a second for John to realize the man was a loose cannon, and wondered what he was doing there. Detouring over to where Bobby was standing, John nudged his head in the younger man's direction.
"Who's that?" he asked Bobby pointedly, dismissing Ellen's presence all together.
"He came with me," came Ellen's husky, sultry voice, and John's attention was diverted to her. "Owed me a favor an' I called him on it."
"Doesn't answer who he is or what the hell you're doin' here for that matter." John held her gazed briefly then lowered his head as the image of Bill dying slammed full force into his mind. "What're you doin' here anyway? I didn't call ya."
"Bobby called," Ellen replied as she crossed her arms, a gesture that almost dared him to argue with her about it. "Said your boys were in trouble."
"Nothin' I can't handle." He pointed toward the door, and she looked at it for a moment before refocusing her attention on him. "Think you should leave."
"Don't be a pig-headed stubborn ass, John," Bobby cut in, once more the voice of reason in the Winchesters' lives. "We've gone over those damn maps about a hundred times now, an' no matter how ya look at it, we needed more help."
"So you called her knowing," John wavered as a wave of guilt washed over him, and he couldn't quite meet Ellen's intent gaze, "you should've asked me first."
"An' you would've said no." A spark of fire lit in Ellen's eyes, old anger mingling with new. "Look, I know we've had our differences, but if something ever happened to my daughter Jo, you'd be the first one there to help out. An' I'm not about to let anything happen to your boys either. So that means you've only got one option here, an' that's to swallow that damn bullheaded Winchester pride for a moment an' admit you're happy to see me."
"Who's that guy?" John hitched a thumb over his shoulder, quickly changing the subject, not about to admit that he needed her help, although he knew Bobby was right in calling her. "Never saw him before."
"Name's Gordon Walker," Ellen replied as she nudged her head in Gordon's direction, "probably the best damn vampire hunter I've ever met."
"An' you trust him?" John quirked a brow, not the least bit impressed by how good a hunter Ellen thought Gordon was. He'd met a lot of hunters in his time, and his gut always told him which ones were dangerous, and there was just something about the deadened look in the younger hunter's eyes that had the acid in John's stomach working on overdrive.
"Didn't say that," Ellen's brows pulled together as she narrowed her eyes on Gordon, "normally would say to steer clear of him, but he's good, John. Real good," she reiterated as she made a wide sweeping gesture toward all the other hunters in the room. "Probably a helluva lot better than most of these guys here. He's young and strong, but most of all, he's very smart."
"If he's so damn good then how come he owes you a favor?"
"That's between me and him, but let's just say it's a big enough favor that he's willing to put his neck on the line for you, and leave it at that."
John was about to argue, but knew if she didn't want him to know, then he wouldn't know. It was really as simple as that. Harvelle pride and determination could rival Winchesters' any day of the week, Ellen had proven that much to him many times over.
"Bobby, I have to go over to the bank to talk to Billy." John scrubbed his hand through his beard as he thought of the danger he was putting the young girl in. He'd witnessed firsthand how terrified she was of Dominic, and yet she still had put her life on the line to help save his boys. In his life there had been very few people who had earned his trust and respect without question, and doubted there ever would be many. But Billy had earned that right, and he vowed to protect her as if she was one of his own.
"Alright," Bobby said with a curt nod, "I'm gonna take a few of the guys an' head up to the compound. Wanna scout it out a little more before tonight. Make sure we have all our bases covered."
"'Kay, I'll meet ya up there after I get done talkin' to Billy."
John headed outside where he knew Deacon was waiting for him. It only took John a moment to spot his longtime friend and strode to where he was standing. Deacon had the maps of both compounds laid out on the hood of John's truck, and was studying them carefully. A deep sigh escaped him as he trailed his finger over the ravine that ran behind the smaller of the two compounds. He then turned his attention to the larger of the two fortified dwellings, and shook his head in frustration.
"John, we've been friends for a long time, right?" Deacon asked, tilting his head slightly to look at John.
"Yeah," John slowly replied, not liking the sound of Deacon's tone or the look in his friend's eyes.
"Then I ain't gonna bullshit ya, here. We go after Sam first, an' we're gonna get our asses handed to us."
"Sam's in worse shape. We got to get him out first, then we'll go after Dean," John staunchly replied. "It's what Dean would want."
"All due respect, but I don't give a rat's ass what Dean would want." Deacon jabbed his finger at the compound Dean was being held captive at, and further added, "You were a freakin' marine for God's sake, John. Try an' remember that for a minute. First an' foremost when at war you always take out the bigger threat first."
"We're talkin' about my boys here, an' I say we save Sam first."
"Then I guess I'm the voice of reason at the moment cause I'm the only one here lookin' at the big picture." Deacon turned to John, and shook his head. "You're so damn wrapped up in this, you've become a liability, an' I'm not prepared to die for your foolish pride." Jabbing his finger into John's chest, Deacon's voice rose in anger and frustration as he added, "You've got two sons . . . two of them. Try thinking like they both might need your help for a change."
"I am thinking of both my boys." John pushed Deacon's hand away from him. His fists furiously clenched and unclenched as Deacon's not so subtle implication that he would chose one son over the other settled into brain. "You don't think I realize the risk of taking out the smaller compound first? Think I haven't studied all the options?"
"Then you know I'm right." Deacon took a step closer to John, meeting his glare head on. "See, your problem is that somewhere in the back of that thick skull of yours, you still see Sam as the little baby you thrust into Dean's arms to save. Always needing to be protected . . . sheltered. But what you've failed to see all along is the little four-year-old boy who needed someone to save him too. An' I'm not about to let him get left behind again."
"You don't know what the hell you're talkin' about," John shouted, heat rising to flush his face. Anger swiftly turning to rage, John stared long and hard at Deacon. If it had been anyone else saying what Deacon had just said, John would have already slammed his fist into the man's face.
"I've always looked out for both my boys."
"Keep tellin' yourself that, John. Someday you might actually believe it," Deacon smoothly countered. "Cause I gotta tell ya, actions speak louder than words, an' you're killin' Dean with yours."
"Billy said Sam would die if we didn't get him out of there soon. An' that was a couple of days ago."
"An' I'm tellin' ya that they both will die if we go after Sam first." Deacon splayed his hand out in a sweeping motion over both maps. "For Christ sake, just look at the freakin' maps, an' then tell me I'm wrong."
Grudgingly, John looked over the maps again, knowing no more now than what he'd known all along. Deacon was right. But he also remembered the look in Billy's eyes when she said Sam wasn't going to make it if they waited too much longer to rescue him, and couldn't put that thought out of his mind. She'd made it very clear that Dean was in much better shape than Sam, and no matter how John looked at it, he needed to get to Sam first.
"What if they were your boys?" John asked as he trailed his finger over the underground bunker he knew Dominic was keeping Sam held prisoner in, and then looked to his friend. "What if you knew one of them was dying, and needed you to be there freakin' yesterday to save him. Wouldn't you rescue him first if you could?"
"If it were my sons, I'd be looking to you to take charge of this cause I'd be leading with my heart, too." Deacon placed a reassuring hand on John's shoulder, and gave a wry smile. "An' yeah, I'd be making the same damn mistakes as you're makin' right now. So I guess all I'm askin' is that you give this a lot of thought before you get us all killed."
"You really think I'm makin' a mistake don't you?"
"I think you're doing just what anyone in your position would do. An' I'm not saying it's wrong to feel the way you do, but it would be wrong of me not to make you understand that we need to save Dean first."
John thought about all his friend had said, and knew Deacon had only his sons' best interests at heart, and yet still he hesitated. Dean would never forgive him if anything happened to Sam. His eldest son had always put Sam's life first, and John knew a large part of that was his own fault. He'd always told Dean it was his job to protect Sam, but what he'd always failed to say was that Dean's life was every bit as important to him as Sam's. He'd failed his eldest in so many ways, and Deacon was right, Dean needed rescuing. Had needed it for the longest time.
"Alright, Deacon. I'll think about doing it your way."
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
"What do you mean you have to rescue Dean first?" Billy nearly shouted, blue eyes sparkling with fury. She glanced in the direction of her office door, cursed under her breath, and then lowered her voice, "Told you he was in better shape than Sam. You have to save Sam first . . . you have to."
The desolation in her tone tore at John's heart, and he realized now what he'd failed to see before. Billy loved Sam. She loved him and was absolutely terrified that he was dying. He knew that to explain to her about the tactical advantage of taking out the larger of the two compounds first would mean nothing to her. All Billy would see was that he was choosing the healthier of his two sons to save first, and in her mind that was utterly and completely wrong.
"Billy, you have to understand that I don't like this any better than you do," John tried to explain the situation the best he could under the circumstances. "I just don't have enough men for a simultaneous strike, so I have to take out the larger threat first. If I don't, I risk losing both my boys. Sam would understand that."
"How can you be so sure?" Billy argued, "You haven't seen him. You have no idea what he's suffered through. He needs you, and he was right, you don't even care."
Billy couldn't have hurt John worse if she had plunged a knife into his heart, and the sad truth was that Sam probably didn't think John cared. Hell, when his youngest son told him he was going to go to college, John had told him if he walked out the door then don't bother ever coming back. Of course he had been angry at the time, but that still didn't excuse what he'd said. It didn't even come close to explaining it. But even so, he still believed he knew Sam would understand his actions now. With all the training he'd given his boys, John was certain Sam would see the absolute logic in his plan to rescue Dean first.
"I know my boy, he would want me to save Dean first. He would understand I would be risking more lives if I rescued him first."
"You know your son, huh?" Billy gave a curt nod as she pushed back her seat and rose to stand to her full height. She stalked around the desk and came to stand within mere inches of John and looked him square in the eyes. "Then I guess you would know that he is hooked on heroin, right?" She hesitated a moment to allow those damning words to sink in, and then continued onward. "An' since you know him so well, I am assuming you also know he was beaten severely with a chain whip?"
John swallowed hard against the acrid bile rising in his throat, upon hearing all his youngest had suffered. Tears welled in his eyes, but he steeled himself, refusing to let his emotions cloud his judgement on the matter. Deacon was right. To save both his boys, he needed to take out the bigger threat first. He opened his mouth to say something, but Billy cut him off.
"An' then there is also that little nasty business of Father ripping out all Sam's fingernails with a knife . . . but you know what," she paused again as she headed for the door, opened it and gestured for him to leave, "I think he'll understand just fine. So go an' save Dean, an' I'll find a way to help Sam."
John stalked to where she was standing, and stopped just short of walking out the door. She crossed her arms, and glared defiantly at him, not about to back down, and reluctantly he was forced to admire her courage. He could see in her eyes that she'd meant every word she'd said. She would save Sam herself or die trying, and he liked her all the more for it.
"Billy, I promise you that I'll get both Sam and Dean out of there tonight," John solemnly vowed, hoping she would see the sincerity in his words. "Jus' please don't do anything that is going to get my son killed. I know he doesn't think I care . . . hell, I've given him more than enough reason to believe that. But my sons mean everything to me . . . they're all I've got left . . . so I'm beggin' ya not to anything foolish."
Tears slipped down Billy's cheeks as she took hold of John's hand, and he felt her tremble. She conceded with a single nod, and wrapping her arms around him, she began to cry in earnest. "Please, just don't let him die . . . jus' don't think I could stand it if he did."
"I promise, Billy . . . cause I couldn't live with myself if he died." John gently pushed away from her and strode out the door before he lost total control of his not so tightly leashed emotions.