A/N: It's Friday. We're back.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment, and not for profit.
Chapter 24 – the blood ties that bind
Sam paused in the kitchen doorway, temporarily frozen solid by the sound Bobby was making. He was in agony, but there was pure rage too.
"You bitch," Bobby bellowed. "You crazy bitch…"
"Bet that hurt, huh, little piggy?" Missy laughed.
Her back was to Sam, and he crossed the distance between them in less than an eyeblink. He vaguely remembered slipping the revolver in his back waistband, but the next thing he remembered was picking up one of the kitchen chairs. Sam remembered thinking that it was made of heavy, solid wood, that he couldn't shoot the bitch because if he did the sound of the shot would alert the others.
The chair splintered the first time he hit her from behind. Sam didn't care if it was a dirty trick or not. Missy didn't go down immediately; she actually turned around, lips skinned back from her teeth in a snarl, eyes gone to slits. She raised the bolt cutters, and the blades were slick with Bobby's blood. Sam put his shoulder into it and hit her with the chair.
Again.
Missy hurt Bobby.
And again.
She had Gabriel's remains.
And again.
She was the reason Dean stayed so fucked up for so long.
When Sam came back to himself he found himself standing with his left hand fisting the front of her blue dress and the knuckles of his right hand slick with her blood.
Missy's entire face was swollen, purplish black. Her eyes were closed.
"Oh, Jesus," Bobby moaned. His head rolled from side to side.
Sam hit Missy again, just to make sure. The cartilage in her nose crumpled underneath his knuckles, and when he released her she dropped limply to the floor.
"Bobby, Bobby---"
Sam grabbed the knife that was on the table, and it was slick with blood too. Bobby's blood.
Sam cut the ropes around Bobby's wrists and ankles. His mind picked up all the details, tucked them away for future viewing. That was the way Sam was now, and he couldn't help himself. If he stopped to think about what he was seeing, it would be too much, and he wouldn't be any use to anyone.
Bobby Singer was slashed and cut and ripped up from his face all the way down to his feet. Bobby's little toe lay on the faded yellow and black tiles a few feet away. His eyes rolled wildly, and he jerked backwards when Sam leaned in.
"Bobby! Dude, it's me. It's Sam!"
Bobby blinked. "About time you got here, boy." Pain shuddered through the older man. He stared down at his wrists, seemingly surprised he wasn't still tied up. His wrists were dark purple with rope burns. His fingertips tingled. "Did you get…" Bobby's eyes tracked beyond Sam. "Good. Got her."
Sam reached for a dish towel nearby, dropped to his knees and gingerly pressed it to Bobby's foot. The towel wasn't clean, it was a nothing more than a dirty rag, but he had to stop the bleeding. Bobby bit down on his lips to stop the scream rising up in his throat when Sam touched his foot.
Pain stuttered through Bobby, made him shake and shiver in the chair.
"Where's…Jesus Christ…where's your brother? Where's John, Sam?"
Sam jerked his head towards the doorway. "They're out there. In the woods."
"W-What's the plan now?"
"We search this place." Sam nodded down at Missy. "She's got a bible. Probably something of Gabriel's in there." Sam got up went over to the sink, retrieved another dish rag that was a little cleaner than the first one. He kneeled down and gently pulled the first rag away from Bobby's foot. "Skin, a lock of hair. Something. We find it, we burn it, and Dean's free."
Bobby nodded. The pain ebbed and flowed. He could do this. He could handle it. "All right then. Patch me up and let's go."
Gabriel grinned. "Sounds like Missy finally found that old bastard's sweet spot." He nudged the side of John Winchester's face with his boot. Still out cold.
Abraham laughed. "Jerry, go check on your sister, you hear? This 'un aint goin' anywhere."
Jerry backed up, but then he stared at the unconscious man on the ground. "You gonna wait until I get back, Pa?"
"Maybe." The look Abraham gave him was hard, stern. "Why you standin' there still jawin' at me, boy?"
"Yes sir." Jerry turned and left.
Abraham sighed. "Boy takes after his mother. Not much brains in either of them."
Gabriel looked thoughtful. "About that. Missy tell you about the rug rat she wants?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, when I go into town. I'm gonna pick up a bitch for you too. We need some new blood around here, and…" Gabriel looked down at the ground, scuffed his toe in the dirt. "That's my way of thanking you for comin' for me." He seemed suddenly shy, somewhat awkward.
He looked down at John and his eyes narrowed. "Either go home with this bastard," Gabriel kicked the man in the thigh, "Or stay in the crazy place." Gabriel made a face, shook his head. "Not much choice at all. It's good to be home."
"Well now, I appreciate that, brother. Thanks!"
Gabriel snorted. "Knew you would."
Jerry hit the front steps yelling out Missy's name. He cocked his head and listened.
No answer.
That in and of itself didn't necessary mean anything. Missy sometimes lost track of time when she was working her knives. She was in her own little world then, and she didn't like to be interrupted.
Jerry had the scars to prove it.
He remembered that time she found those stray kittens in one of the junkers out back. Pa had to go out and get her to come in for supper. She didn't even bother to wash the blood off her face and hands.
Best thing to do was go in loud so he wouldn't startle her. "MISSY! HEY!"
He opened the door, walked down the front hallway. "Missy! Pa sent me back to see if you were okay."
Jerry stood in the kitchen doorway. Well. The old man was still in the chair. His head was down, and his eyes were closed, so he was either out or dead.
Missy was nowhere around. Jerry frowned. Maybe she was out back taking a leak or something?
"HEY, MISSY!"
Jerry looked at the bucket of tools by the kitchen table. Huh. Pa's stuff. There was a lot of blood on the floor and on the old man. Jesus. She had pretty much worked him over. Might as well take a look, as long as he was here.
He was more concerned about not surprising Missy. Jerry moved cautiously. That would have been bad, very bad. He leaned down in front of the man, and the fact that the bastard was not tied up anymore finally registered with him. Jerry straightened up with a jerk, but it was too late by that time.
The man moved, and he moved fast. His head snapped up. There was murder in his eyes, and steel in his hand. Jerry felt something thunk solidly into his chest. He stared at the handle as it moved up and down, felt his heart stutter as the knife moved in time with every failing heartbeat.
Jerry hit the floor a moment later, and his last thought was that Gabriel was wrong, being dumb and stupid had gotten him killed after all.
The door to the kitchen pantry creaked as Sam pushed it open.
He left Missy's broken body on the floor inside the pantry. Jerry Bender stared up sightlessly into eternity. "Damn, Bobby," Sam whispered.
"That's two down." Bobby looked pale. He flinched as he tried to stand up. The dish rag was a makeshift bandage held in place by Bobby's sock. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to put his boot back on. He deliberately didn't look at his toe over there by the kitchen table, either. The minutes were ticking away and Bobby highly doubted they'd be in time to get to an ER and get it reattached.
Well. He'd known signing on for this wouldn't be easy. No way he could've turned his back, not if it meant Dean had a chance to come home. Lot worse things than losing a toe.
"Come on, Sam," Bobby grated out roughly. He lifted himself out of the chair. "Let's find that damn bible and burn that Gabriel sumbitch."
"Wake up, Daddy!"
Dean kicked him.
What the hell? Boy was going to pay for this…waking him up like that…It was all a jumble inside John's head. He remembered staggering back from that black dog hunt beat halfway to hell. It wasn't like Dean to get all rude like that, especially with John.
Another kick, another voice, this time in the side.
John blinked as the pain in his leg came roaring back to fill his consciousness.
"Come on, wake up."
He recognized the second voice. Fucking Abraham Bender.
John came fully awake.
"Yeah, that's better," Gabriel drawled. "Wouldn't want you to miss out on anything."
John turned over slowly onto his back. He still had the Bowie knife in his back waistband. It was a damn miracle he hadn't impaled himself on the damn thing when he hit the ground.
Ah, God…Pain traveled up and down his body, sharp and white hot. He raised up just enough to stare down his right leg. Bear trap. His eyes travelled down the long steel chain that the trap was attached to. John nearly groaned aloud when he saw it was looped and padlocked around that tree trunk.
Abraham laughed. "Winchester, huh? Like the rifle?"
John nodded. "Like the rifle," he said hoarsely.
"Well, I guess you've come to the end of your road, Winchester like the rifle," Abraham drawled. "Your other son's dead. You got him killed, and for what? Woulda been better if you'd just cut your losses and moved on."
"Fuck you," John snarled. He sat back on his elbows, managed to fold his fingers underneath his back. His fingertips brushed the top of the knife hilt. Abraham was close, but Gabriel was closer.
"I want my son back." John glared fiercely at Gabriel. "I want Dean."
Gabriel pulled his hair away from his face as he knelt down. "Well, you can't have him. Been gone, what, four years now? If you and yours were any good, you wouldn't have lost him in the first place."
Gabriel stared hard at John, then his expression brightened as though he'd finally figured it out. "I get it now. Your boys are your weakness. I can see it in your eyes, Papa John. What, did this one remind you of your woman? Is that it? She dead now too?"
John didn't answer.
Abraham walked around John with the barrel of his rifle pointed at the ground. "Your boy's weak. Just like you. I seen it in his eyes. He'd wake up some days, in the beginning. Try to struggle. Couldn't get away. He was a gift to my family. God forgave me."
John snorted. "Forgave you? For what? Marrying your own sister?"
The crack of Gabriel's hand against John's face echoed sharp and flat in the night air. "Watch your fucking mouth."
John laughed through the pain. "Struck a nerve, huh? So what the hell were you doing before they brought Dean here, Gabriel? Floating around without a body, watching life go on without you? Hope you got friends on the other side, princess, because you're going right back there."
"Uh, John boy, I think I hit you just a little too hard." Gabriel frowned. "I knocked the sense right out of you, didn't I? Maybe you don't realize your situation right now. You're chained and trapped, your freak's dead, and Missy is having some fun with that old fool with the cap."
"I hunt things like you, Gabe. I hunt 'em and put them down for good. I've seen my share of spirits like you. You're fucking cowards."
"Shut up." Gabriel scowled darkly.
"You hang around. You wait." John hissed as a fresh wave of pain travelled up his leg. The steel teeth of the trap dug into his flesh, but if he didn't move around so much, not until he had to, then maybe he'd still have a leg when all this was over with. "You couldn't take Dean when he was healthy. He would have salted and burned your sorry ass and not even blinked."
"Shut the fuck up…" Gabriel rose unsteadily to his feet. He rubbed at his left temple with one hand.
"You waited until Dean was half dead, busted up, and then you made your move. That's because you're weak. That's because my son Dean is a better man than you are even on his worst fucking day. You call yourselves hunters?" John laughed as he sat up. "That's a damn joke. Did I call you a cockroach before? Well," John smiled wickedly. "I was wrong. You're a maggot. A dickless maggot---"
Abraham snarled. He stepped in close and reversed his rifle so it was butt first.
He smashed John in the face with it.
John took the blow. His ears rung, and his vision went white. He reached down and back, pulled the Bowie knife out and plunged the blade into Abraham Bender's left boot.
's not fair...Gabe's mine...God kept his promise to me...bastards think they're gonna take him away from me again…Bible…they know about the bible…
gonna kill 'em…gonna kill 'em all…
Missy opened her eyes.
Abraham stared down at the blade sticking out of his boot.
He laughed. "Can't feel no pain like that. Never have been able to." Abraham leaned down and pulled the knife out of his foot.
Sonofabitch… John's eyes widened.
"It'll bleed for a while, then the bleeding will stop," Abraham said mildly. Always does."
Gabriel stared at Abraham. The boy looked tired, beat on his feet. He swayed slightly. Little brother was probably worn out from all that was going on. Maybe it was too soon to ask him to hunt anyway.
"Well, I'm gettin' kinda bored now, Papa Winchester." Abraham flipped the knife into the dirt so that the blade stuck in the ground. "Think it's time to end this." He raised his rifle up as he stepped back. He didn't want to shoot Winchester in the head; Abraham intended to aim for his chest. It was one of his quirks; he really enjoyed seeing the light and the life go out.
Winchester stared back at him, bloodied and defiant.
Bastard.
Gabriel moved. Abraham heard the click of metal and he still didn't believe it. Gabriel stood there with his pistol in his hand, pointed right at Abraham's head.
The boy spoke; the voice was rough and familiar: "Not gonna let you shoot my Dad."
Next post? Monday. Final round action between the Winchesters and Bobby, Pa and Missy.
