So, new chappy...now begins the rescue of Sam and Dean...a long time in coming I know!! Hopefully i will do it some measure of justice!! let me know what you think!! thanks for reading and for all the awesome reviews!! bambers;)
Chapter Twenty-Five
"It's time, John," Deacon announced in a grim tone, and everyone present nodded in silent agreement.
John grabbed his walkie-talkie off a boulder he had set it on, and jabbed the call button with his thumb. "Gordon, have they come out of the church yet?"
After a few moments of static coming over the walkie-talkie, Gordon finally responded, "Still there . . . noticed the lights flicker inside the church a moment ago, but otherwise everything seems normal."
"Alright, want you back here now," John ordered in a no-nonsense mannered, "Gonna have Ash cut the power, and the second he does I want you over that wall and heading for the front gate."
"On my way."
John glanced in the direction of Deacon, Bobby, and Ellen, saw that they were going over last minute preparations, then jabbed the button on his walkie-talkie again to talk to Pastor Jim. "Jim, you there?"
"Yeah, John," Jim immediately responded.
"The moment the power's cut have your men ready to attack. Want to take out as many of the guards as possible before we move in." John hesitated for a moment, thinking of his long time friend, then added, "Be careful, Jim, an' only use deadly force if absolutely necessary."
"Will do, John." Pastor Jim was silent for a moment, and John understood the conflicting emotions the man of God must have been feeling at the moment. "Should be able to take out quite a few of them with crossbows before you're even inside, an' the tear gas should pretty much impair the ones we don't get."
"Alright, five minutes till the power's cut, prepare your men," John commanded, reverting to his military training, and pushing any personal feelings back to the furthest niches of his mind. "The second the lights go out, order the attack. Understood?"
"Gotcha," Jim replied, without hesitation.
The second John finished talking to Jim, he immediately called to Ash. "Ash, cut the power."
"Already a step ahead of ya, John," Ash called back over the walkie-talkie, "cells and phones are already down, an' in about five seconds the lights should be cut as well."
"Good, we'll be ready. Thanks, Ash."
"Not a problem."
"John," Deacon called out, then nudged his head in the direction of a grouping of trees, and John saw Gordon making his way through them. "Wind's kickin' up an' the clouds are movin' in, possible storm headin' this way. Could be a problem with the tear gas."
John glanced toward the trees, noticed them bending low in the stiff breeze, and felt his bangs ruffle as the chilled wind blew past him. Yet, he didn't have time to worry about an impending storm or the tear gas dissipating quicker than anticipated as the lights inside the compound went out. "Move out," he ordered, gathered his weapons and stalked to the crumbled section of the wall.
Gordon was the first through the narrow, fallen section of wall, followed quickly by John, Deacon, Bobby, and Ellen. With guns at the ready, Gordon sprinted toward the front gate, firing his weapon and at anyone who crossed his path. He was soon lost in the shuffle as members of the cult rushed out of the church, heading for cover.
The sound of gunfire ripped through the night, and John glanced in the direction of the church, saw a woman jerk forward and fall hard against one of Dominic's men and John cursed under his breath. The man holding onto her dropped to the ground with her in his arms, and glanced in the direction of John's men now making their way through the section of crumpled wall. Then amidst the chaos, the younger man picked up the girl's lifeless body, cradled her to his chest and retreated back inside the church he had just exited.
More gunfire reverberated through the air as the guards engaged in battle with John's men. Screams of terrified women and children almost enshrouded the sounds of gunfire as they rushed toward the main building.
"Weapon's shed," John shouted to Deacon, and motioned to the small wooden shelter off to the right. "Take it out before they can get to it." Without taking time to wait for a response, John rushed toward the second of the two weapon storage areas, grabbed a grenade from his vest pocket, pulled the pin and launched it at the building.
He spun on his heel, and sprinted away, but didn't make it very far before the blast from the explosion threw him a good ten feet in the air. John landed with a hard thud as another explosion rocked the earth, fire lighting up the sky as explosives inside the shed ignited and exploded. John lurched to the side as a piece of splintered wood thrown from the building, sliced through his upper arm. More pieces of wood and burning debris rained down from the sky, and mindless of his injury John quickly scrambled to his feet and ducked for cover as the heated bullets from inside the burning shed exploded.
Within a few minutes several more explosions echoed through the night as the first of the two weapon sheds went up in flames. Narrowing his eyes, John spied Deacon running toward the front gate, then swung on the spot to find Bobby and Ellen.
"Shit," he swore under his breath when he saw two men trying to get the generator working. He didn't see Bobby or Ellen anywhere in the crowd, but knew he didn't have to look for them. He needed to make sure the power remained out of commission. With one last quick glance around, he darted toward the generator.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Dean listened as a blast rocked the church, the bell in the tower overhead clanging loudly as the explosion caused it to rock to an fro. As if in a trance, he slowly stood, walked to the back of the altar and began lighting the candles one by one until every single candle was lit. His head fell back on his shoulders, and he looked up at the cross and sickles adorning the wall as he unconsciously rubbed the mark branded on his arm.
"Dominic," came the Father's voice from behind Dean, and Dean swung to look at him. "Your family needs you," from the pockets of his robes, he yanked out two guns, and held them out to Dean. "They're killing your brothers and sisters." He bobbed his head toward Raine's lifeless body. "They killed your wife . . . ." he hesitated for a moment, allowing those words to sink in fully before he added, "You need to protect the family . . . you need to kill our enemies."
With a curt nod, Dean strode down the stairs of the altar, and stalked to the Father. He glanced back over his shoulder at Raine, and his heart clenched painfully as he stared at her motionless body bathed in candlelight. Refocusing his attention on the Father, Dean took the guns the older man offered to him.
"Who the hell are they?" Dean asked, not understanding why anyone would attack them so viciously in the middle of the night without provocation.
"Does it really matter?" the Father replied, a deep scowl settling on his features. "They killed April Raine . . . they've killed others as well. My children. Your brothers and sisters . . . the little ones."
"They killed innocent little kids?" Deep-seeded hatred welled inside of Dean, his breath quickening as he glared at the entrance of the church, envisioning the sight of little children lying dead in the courtyard. "They'll pay for what they've done, Father . . . they'll all pay."
Without another word he stalked from the building, intent on killing as many of their attackers as possible. As he strode through the courtyard, he vowed to himself that he would kill them all or die trying.
From the light of the burning weapon's sheds, Dean clearly saw the bodies of his brothers and sisters who had fallen in their attempt to battle against their enemies. Keeping a wary eye on everything that was going on around him, he knelt beside a young girl. She was bleeding from a wound in her shoulder, and from another bullet wound to her left arm, but neither injuries appeared to be fatal wounds. Dean touched his fingers to the side of her neck and felt for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when he found one.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean spied four or five little children huddled in the doorway of the bathing area with no one watching over them. Sonuvabitch . . . why the hell is no one protecting them?
Dean stood and set off at a dead-run toward the children, knocking aside anyone who got in his way. All thoughts of revenge swiftly left him as he reached the terrified children, his mind now solely intent on getting them to safety.
A little girl, who was no more than four or five years old, rushed into his arms as he crouched beside her. She was trembling uncontrollably as tears cascaded down his chubby little cheeks.
"Sc-scared, D-Dominic," she cried as he gathered her into his arms, and picked her up.
"Shhh . . . it's gonna be okay . . . not gonna let anything happen to ya." Dean hastily glanced around, searching for someplace safe to take them, and instantly knew that crossing the courtyard was not an option. "The woods . . . you'll all be safe in the woods."
For several long moments, Dean waited, watching for an opportunity to escape from their shelter, and the second he noticed no one looking in their direction, he ordered the children to run for the woods. Dean trailed after them with the little girl in his arms, glancing back over his shoulder every couple of minutes to make sure they weren't being followed. When they finally reached the spot near the creek he'd been at earlier in the day with Raine, he ordered them all to stop.
Dean set the little girl down, then looked around to make sure they were alone. "Want you all to stay here, understand?" He waited until he saw all of them nod, then continued, "Going back to find more kids, an' then I'll be back, promise." Motioning toward the fallen log where he had proposed to Raine, Dean swallowed hard, and ordered, "Want you all to hide behind that log. No one will see you there. An' I don't want any of you moving from this spot till I come back for ya, hear me?"
Once again all the children nodded, and with that, Dean darted back through the trees, heading for the compound.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
So intent on getting the generator running, the two men never heard John sneaking up behind them. John raised his gun, and slammed the butt of it down hard against one of the cult member's skull. The bald-headed man dropped to the ground instantly, unconscious.
The other man rounded on John, slammed his fist into John's face. Knocked off balance for a moment, John dropped his gun and staggered briefly before he regained his footing. The man swung again, but John caught hold of his arm, and delivered a quick jab to the man's ribcage. Not about to let the younger man to get the upper hand, he quickly followed with an uppercut to the jaw, and another jab to the stomach.
The younger man teetered backwards for a few seconds, than charged John. A powerful fist connect with John's jaw, his head snapping sideways from the force of the blow. The bald-headed man swung again, but John caught a hold of his hand mid-strike, twisted the man's arm behind his back, and brought up his leg and slammed his foot into the small of his back.
The younger man flew forward, and landed sprawled out on the ground. Not about to waste any more time fighting with him, John knelt and ground his knee into the man's spine, effectively trapping him there. From the pocket of his vest, John yanked out a pair of zip-cuffs Deacon had thought to bring to restrain anyone who fought their rescue attempt. John made quick work of cuffing the man, and then rose to stand.
John swung around just in time to see a man wearing crimson robes enter the church. A few minutes later, the younger man he'd seen enter the building earlier exited. At first John thought the younger man was going to join in the battle, and stood in amazement when instead of fighting, the man chose to protect the younger children, leading them into the forest and away from danger. For whatever cruelty had happened inside the compound walls, the younger man had also shown John there was also compassion, and he determined to leave the man alone.
With purposeful strides, John crossed the courtyard, heading straight for the church. He opened the door and eased inside entrance. A blast of icy air slammed full-force into him the moment he stepped further into the room. He hesitated with his finger on the trigger of his gun, all his years of hunting vengeful spirits reeking havoc on his already taut nerves. If he hadn't known he was hunting a man instead of a spirit, John could've almost sworn there was something unnatural at work inside the building. However, all thought of vengeful spirits left John's mind when he spotted Dominic across the empty room.
John stalked across the room, with his gun raised, finger on the trigger. Dominic didn't even seem to notice John's presence in the room or even the plummeting temperature as he cradled a motionless girl in his arms. The young girl was dressed in a simple white dress, now stained with her own blood, and a wreath of white flowers adorned her wavy raven tresses. John cursed under his breath, now realizing why everyone had been at the church earlier in the night. She had just gotten married, and John had no doubt it was to the man who he had seen pick her up and carry her back inside the church after she'd been shot.
A twinge of guilt for the dead girl and her husband gnawed at John's insides, but he pushed it aside allowing his rage to have free reign. "Dominic," sheer hatred seethed from John's tone as he called to the man sitting on the steps of the alter. "You've really fucked with the wrong family this time, you sonuvabitch."
Dominic glanced at John, and a thoughtful frown creased his brow. "I remember you . . . John, isn't it?" A wry laugh escaped his lips as he carefully set the dead girl down on the altar, and stood to face John. "Guess this means your children aren't as dead as you first proclaimed them to be."
"You took my sons," John growled as he took a step toward Dominic, his gun leveled on the man's heart. "An' I'm here to make damn sure no more children are ever taken away from their families."
"Huh, guess that means Morning Dawn betrayed the family." Dominic's grin deepened as he defiantly crossed his arms. "But you see, I already knew that. Actually ordered her death tonight just before the wedding. . . think she's already dead yet, John?" He strode down the steps, and stalked to where John was standing. "An' what about Sam, John? If I already knew she betrayed me because of him, do you really think he's still alive?" He cocked a sardonic brow.
"You better pray to God, he's still alive," John hissed through clenched teeth, shoving the nozzle of his gun into Dominic's chest. "Cause if he isn't . . . I swear to God, I'll rip you apart piece by freakin' piece."
"Fair trade, John," Dominic smirked, "you killed some of my family, I killed some of yours."
"Think you're bluffin'." John's finger tensed on the trigger, and it took every bit of strength he possessed not to shoot the man standing before him. "What have you done to Dean?"
"Dean?" Dominic laughed, the sound of it echoing throughout the room. "Ahhh . . . you must mean my son Dominic." He nudged his head toward the dead woman lying on the alter. "Don't you mean what you did to him. You killed his wife . . . really thinking he's pretty pissed about that."
"H-his what?" John stammered, caught completely off guard by the statement.
"My wife," came a voice from behind John, and he instantly recognized it as Dean's. "You an' your freakin' men killed my wife . . . my family."
"Dean — "
"My name's Dominic," Dean snarled, cutting John off from saying anything further. "An' you killed my wife . . . my family . . . an' all the innocent children laying outside bleedin' to death."
John gripped hold of Dominic, and swung him around so he stood between John and Dean. Now facing his son, John saw the glint of hatred in his Dean's eyes directed solely at him. "They're not your family, Dean," he tried to reason, "came to get you out of here. Your brother, Sam, he . . . ." John's voice trailed off as he thought of Sam, not knowing how to tell Dean that his little brother was dying.
"Not my brother, John," Dean gave a curt shake of his head, then raised the gun he held in his hand, aiming it directly at John. "Release my Father," he ordered as he took a step further into the room, his finger tensing on the trigger, "or I swear to God, I'll shoot you where you stand."