A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying this. ^_^ And we're gonna have some progress in this chapter!
Chapter 5
Terror shot through Amy as the men readied their rifles. Beside her, Castiel was listing to the side, blood and grace pouring out of the bullet hole in his gut. She couldn't let them kill her father.
Her grace was recoiling from the holy fire hemming them in, but she shoved down the revulsion and summoned up her phoenix flame. A chord trumpeted from within, connecting with the nearby flames, and with a raging shout and burst of power, the holy fire exploded outward, sending the humans flying.
Amy leaped to her feet and ran at the nearest man who only lay dazed. She delivered a swift sidekick to his face that promptly knocked him out.
She heard a click and swish, and felt a stinging burn in the back of her arm. Twisting around, she found she'd been hit with a dart, not a bullet.
Amy yanked it out and flung it back at the man who'd fired it. The needle pierced his neck, and he fell back with a gasp and gurgle.
She spun to face another attack, but stumbled as her blood started to quicken with searing intensity. The needle mark burned, and whatever substance was pumping into her muscle, it felt heavy. There was also a metallic tang suddenly in the back of her throat.
Amy gave herself a sharp shake and refocused on her surroundings. Four of the humans were down, but the leader was staggering to his feet and swinging his gun around. She charged him, bringing an arm up to knock the weapon away. Then she followed up with a punch to the jaw.
His head snapped back, but he took the blow in stride and retaliated with an uppercut of his own that punched the air from her lungs. Amy almost doubled over, but fierce determination kept her upright, and she responded with a karate chop to the back of his neck and one to his wrist that made him drop the gun.
She was flagging, though, her muscles straining against whatever poison she'd been dosed with. A quick glance over her shoulder showed her dad slumped on the ground, one hand clutching his stomach, his shoulders shaking with ragged breaths. They needed to get out of here.
The human dove for his gun. Amy pivoted and swung a roundhouse kick right into his face that sent him sprawling unconscious in the dirt. She turned and stumbled back to Castiel, grabbing his arm and doing her best to haul him to his feet. He gritted his teeth as he fought to help support his own weight, but he sagged against her. There was no way she'd be able to fly them, so with no other options, she turned toward the tree line and they started staggering their way into the cover of the woods.
Her only thought was escape, not direction, and she had no idea how much ground they covered with their desperate but tottering pace. Castiel tripped several times, and Amy was starting to feel hot, like her insides were melting.
She finally lurched toward a nook between the gnarled roots of a giant oak, and both she and Castiel collapsed onto the ground. He curled in on himself with a pained noise.
"Dad?" she called worriedly.
He leaned back, enough to expose his stomach and the bloodstained dress shirt. Amy's heart leaped into her throat as she saw grace was still bleeding through.
"I don't understand. Guns can't hurt angels…"
"The bullet was made of…angel blade…material," he gasped between labored breaths. "I've seen it…before."
Her eyes widened. Angel bullets?
"What do I do? Dad, what do I do?"
But his eyes had fluttered shut and Castiel had slumped against the tree.
No, no, no. Amy held her palm over the wound and tried to summon up her grace. But it wasn't responding. Her hand was shaking and sweat was streaming from her pores. She was too hot, and she shrugged out of her coat. Some kind of poison was burning through her veins, and her grace was sluggishly rallying to combat it. But until it was gone, she couldn't heal her dad, and she couldn't get them out of here.
Tears welled up in her eyes and her throat threatened to close off. This was all her fault. Dean hadn't been at the farmhouse. He probably wasn't even the one who'd texted her. It'd been a trap, and she'd walked them both right into it.
Amy glanced around the woods helplessly, but help wasn't likely to come upon them. She turned back to Castiel, swallowing hard. She took her jacket and wadded it up to press against his wound. He didn't stir.
With one hand maintaining pressure, Amy scooted to the side and raised her dad's head to rest against her hip instead of the mulch. And then she sat there under the darkening trees, clinging to her father and silently praying for him to stay with her.
Dean pounded his fists against the glass door. "Hey! Help! My brother needs help!"
In the cell across from him, Sam was curled in the fetal position, his back to Dean, shaking like he was having a seizure.
Dean slammed the glass so hard it wobbled, though didn't break. "Someone help!" he bellowed as loud as he could. These walls weren't soundproof; someone had to hear him.
A guard finally rounded the corner, shooting him a put-out look.
"My brother," Dean yelled. "Do something!"
The guard turned to the other cell, hesitating only a moment before grabbing a keycard off his vest and unlocking the door. The glass panel slid open and he hurried inside, dropping down to one knee to check on his prisoner.
Sam flipped over and sucker punched him square in the jaw, knocking the guard flat on his ass. Then he was leaping to his feet and grabbing the P90 slung over the guy's shoulder. Twisting the strap, Sam yanked it taut so it cinched up right under the guard's jugular. A startled gasp escaped his throat as his eyes blew wide, and he scrabbled to relieve the pressure. Sam planted a knee into his back, driving him face first into the floor and holding him there.
Dean watched with grim satisfaction as the guy choked and flailed until he finally passed out. Then he glanced urgently down the hall in case more had heard his earlier shouts.
Sam unwound the shoulder strap from the guard to free the gun, and snatched up the keycard as well. He then rushed to Dean's cell and unlocked it. Now to find Ryn.
Exchanging silent looks, they headed down the corridor, tensed for an alarm to start sounding or more guards to come rushing at them. But none did.
The compound was like a labyrinth, though, sections taking ninety-degree turns here and there. They passed what looked like storage rooms and personal quarters, each one no bigger than the cells they'd been in, as though this entire place had been retrofitted out of a bunch of small blocks.
Some rooms were bigger, though. They passed what looked like a laboratory where a couple of people in white lab coats were working. But those goons didn't notice them as they slipped past.
"I don't think this operation is very big," Sam said in a hushed voice.
Dean didn't respond. He supposed that made sense, since this wasn't the Brits' home base, but a temporary one they'd apparently constructed for their little jaunt across the Atlantic.
And while making a clean getaway would be a good thing, they actually did need to find someone to tell them where Ryn was being kept. Dean hoped she was in this facility…
They finally rounded a corner and came face to face with another guard. He stared at them in surprise for a moment before reaching for his side holster, but the Winchesters were faster. Sam thrust the side of the P90 into the man's face, knocking him back a step, and Dean wrenched his handgun away from him. Dean then threw an arm against his chest and slammed him back against the wall.
"Where's the phoenix?" he growled.
The man let out a choked wheeze, and Dean adjusted his elbow up to press against his windpipe.
"You're gonna take us to her right now, or I'm going to break your kneecaps."
The guard flicked an uncertain look between them, but then gave a shaky nod. Dean eased up and grabbed his collar, shoving him forward. Sam lifted the P90 and pressed the barrel into the guy's back. He stumbled forward, taking the next turn down an adjoining corridor. Everything looked the same in this place.
"Which way's out?" Dean snapped.
The guy glanced over his shoulder, a welt forming across his face. At the next juncture, he pointed to the left, but led them right. A few more spaces down and they came upon a cell just like the other ones, only with Ryn inside. She was chained to the floor, and Dean's fury erupted anew.
Sam took the keycard to the door while Dean took the butt of the handgun and clobbered the guard in the head. He then grabbed the guy's collar and dragged his unconscious ass inside, tossing him against the wall.
"Oh god," Sam choked.
Dean turned and froze. The veins in Ryn's arms were aglow, yellow up near her shoulders, but darker and almost red down at her elbow where an IV line was steadily delivering some kind of silvery fluid into her arm. They looked like molten fissures in her flesh, and Dean was suddenly and horrifically reminded of Elijah when he went nuclear.
He and Sam surged forward at the same time, Sam reaching the line first and yanking it out. Dean reached for Ryn's head and cupped the side of her face. Her eyes were closed, and her skin was hot to the touch.
Sam tracked the IV line to a bag hanging from a hook in the ceiling, and squinted at it. He sucked in a sharp breath. "They've been giving her liquid iron. Shit, and mercury."
Dean stiffened. That stuff wouldn't kill supernatural beings, but it sure hurt them like hell. He had no idea what continuous, intravenous, exposure would do, though… And what the hell was the mercury for? Something to keep the iron liquidated?
He turned his attention to the manacles around her wrists, neck, and ankles. "These need more than a keycard."
"On it." Sam jumped up and went over to rifle through the guard's pockets.
Dean glanced back out into the hall, worried they would be discovered any second. But Sam came back with an actual key and quickly unlocked the shackles. Ryn moaned, her eyelids fluttering.
"Easy, we got you," Dean said, sliding his arms under her back and knees and scooping her into his arms. A small whimper passed her lips, and she tried weakly to cling to his neck.
"Hang on, sweetheart. We're getting you out of here."
Sam snatched up the handgun and tucked it in his waistband before hefting the P90 and taking the lead as they ventured back into the corridor. They backtracked toward the juncture where the guard had said the way out was, and hurried down it, eyes and ears peeled for sounds of the enemy ahead or behind. But they managed to make it to an outer door without running across anyone else.
However, there were two armed guards standing watch outside. One was right inside the security cage surrounding the door they burst out of. Thankfully, there wasn't a lot of space, so Sam was quickly able to charge the smaller man and deck him with the P90. Just outside the yard at the perimeter gate, however, was another guard who immediately started shooting his semi-automatic at them.
Bullets ricocheted off the wire, and Dean ducked down instinctively, careful not to lose his grip on Ryn. Sam fired back, the rapid report of the gun cracking Dean's eardrums.
The guard jerked as he was clipped, and went down, unmoving. An alarm started blaring somewhere above their heads.
Shit, time to move.
"Dean!" Sam shouted, pointing across the lot to where an SUV was parked. Probably one of the ones that had brought them here in the first place.
Sparing a quick glance around for more guards, they broke cover and sprinted toward it. Now that they were outside, Dean finally got a look at the British Men of Letters' base. There was what looked like an old factory in the back, but the compound itself was a bunch of shipping containers that had been constructed to make the labyrinthine-like structure.
They reached the SUV, which was thankfully unlocked. Sam yanked the back side door open and Dean clambered in with Ryn still in his arms. His brother then slammed the door and scrambled around to climb into the driver's seat.
The seats in the back had been folded down—definitely the vehicle they'd been trussed up in—and Dean shifted to set Ryn down in case he needed to hot wire the car. But Sam flipped down the visor and a set of keys fell into his lap.
Jackpot.
Sam jammed the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine rumbling to life. Dean glanced out the window and saw the compound door swinging open.
"Time to go!" he shouted.
Not that his brother needed to be told that. Sam threw the vehicle in gear and rammed the gas pedal, cranking the wheel as he did so. The tires squealed and burnt rubber permeated the cab as the SUV made a sharp turn in the lot. Dean could only watch as guards filed out and started firing. Bullets pelted the vehicle, and Dean tucked Ryn in close, folding himself over her protectively in case any of those pierced through the metal sheeting.
The SUV fishtailed slightly as Sam straightened it out, and then he revved the engine harder, barreling right through the security fence. The hail of bullets petered off as they made it onto the road and picked up speed.
Dean's heart was hammering in his chest, and he looked out the back window in search of pursuit. But he hadn't seen any other vehicles in the yard, and with the limited manpower these guys seemed to have, he wondered how quickly they'd be able to mobilize something.
They would be after them, though, Dean was sure about that. How the hell were they going to get out of this one?
But while that was a pressing question, there were other urgent matters at hand. Dean rocked back, Ryn still in his arms, and reached up to feel her pulse. It was racing, and he was beginning to sweat from her fever.
Sam cast a look in the rearview mirror. "How is she?"
"I don't know. I mean, she doesn't seem like she's about to go off like a bomb, so…"
Sam twisted around, jaw tight.
"We need to ditch this car," Dean said. "Then find Cas and Amy."
His brother nodded. "Looks like we're kinda out in the boonies." He punched the vehicle's navigation system and tried to search for something nearby, but the feature wouldn't work while they were moving, and they weren't risking pulling over just yet, so they'd just have to drive until they found a large parking lot.
Ryn let out a pained mewl.
"Hey," Dean gasped. "Hey, hey, hey. You okay?"
Her eyelids fluttered dazedly, eyes glassy with pain and sickness. "Dean?" she rasped.
"Yeah. You're gonna be okay, you hear me? We're gonna get you someplace safe."
"Amy," she choked out. "They're going…after…"
Dean's mouth thinned into a tight line. "I know."
And they had no way to warn her and Cas. Not until they found a payphone.
"That liquid iron they gave you," he went on, changing the subject. "What's it doing to you?"
She closed her eyes and turned her face into his shirt. "Burning. Just…burning."
Dean exchanged a fraught look with Sam. There wasn't anything they could do about that either until they found a place to regroup.
Dean felt the SUV's speed subtly increase, even though they were already going over the limit. He tucked Ryn's head under his chin and silently willed her to hold on. Silently pleaded for the rest of his family to hang on wherever they were.