I had to take a break for a while. Was a little tired of writing (which happens every few months) and was hanging out with friends almost every day. I'm back now. :) Here's an extra long chapter for the wait. I hope it was worth it.

Ch. 23

Each group moves towards Dick's 'fortress', as they've come to calling it, from a different direction. Once they had everything planned, they took a day to set up. A base camp was organized ten miles away from Roman's base of operations in an old city with a building big enough to keep everyone in. An old hospital.

News of their final attack was sent out to other camps all over the states with people trained to fight, telling them that if they know of where a leviathan base is, to destroy it. They give them all of the information they've gathered and any tricks they know about dealing with the leviathans. When all of the messengers were back, that's when they had moved out towards Roman's base.

Mark stays at their base camp in the hospital with a team, maps spread out and communications monitored. They keep up with the movement of all of the teams and let the other groups know the status of their fellow teams. They're the ones who went through all of the communications equipment and made sure the buttons on the radios don't stick or wires weren't loose. They did all they could to ensure the ease of communications.

Four groups are stationed around the compound. Waiting for the go ahead from base. They sit, quietly waiting and watching. Two groups are a little closer to the compound. Small groups of five. They're the ones who will move in if something goes wrong when the Winchesters try to get into the compound.

The Winchesters, and one man, are twenty feet from the compound. Squatting in a small building across the street. Dean's eyes are scanning the area around the compound. Looking for the last key to their plan. Then he sees him. Dean waits until Max's scanning eyes see him, locking eyes with the cold blue ones at the other corner of the compound. He raises a finger over the windowsill his eyes are looking over, making a circle with it before pointing towards the compound.

Max, grin spreading across his face, instantly heads towards the building.

Dean turns to Sam and the other man with them, lifting the radio to his mouth. "Snake is headed to the nest. I repeat, snake is headed to the nest. The hawks will move in t-minus ten. Viper is set to strike if needed."

Sam snorts.

Dean smirks at him.

Back at the base, Mark nods to himself as the other men at the radios forward the info to the other groups. "Clever nicknames," he comments into the radio designated for Sam and Dean's radios.

Dean chuckles. "Thanks." He makes eye contact with Sam. "Ready?"

Sam nods.

Dean looks to the man with them. "We're going to try and sneak in. But if something goes wrong, I need you to cover us."

The man nods, keeping silent as he ready's his gun. He sets it up on the window sill.

"The hawks are on the move. Viper is loaded. Green for go on turning off the radio."

"You're green. Be careful."

Sam and Dean look to each other as he turns off their radio, turning as one to move out the side of the building they're in. They make their way towards the compound.

They're silent. Motioning with hand signals when they need to. Thanks to the intel the scout group of marines had for them, it's not hard to find the blind spot in security. They stay in the shadows, keeping farther away until they're sure they'll be able to glide in unnoticed. Unfortunately, there's always one person that happens to be unpredictable.

One human walks around the corner out of turn. It's eyes lock onto Sam and Dean, barely stepping out of the shadows. Dean and Sam can't even move before a hole is suddenly in the man's head. Then he's on the ground. The entire thing is silent.

Dean looks to Sam, eyebrows raised. He's good.

Sam smirks, nodding. He is.

They keep moving, listening to the voices that come over the small radios each human has on them. They use the sounds to keep from coming in contact. Getting to Roman is all about invisibility. And silence. So far, both are going good. They just have to stay behind wherever Max is working, not walking out where too many humans are until he's cleared a path. So far, it seems that no one has been alerted to the disappearing humans.

Dean looks to Sam when they finally reach the door that will lead them into the building. He reaches out, setting his hand on the back of Sam's neck and squeezing lightly.

Sam smiles brightly, out of place for where they are right now, and does the same.

Be safe.

Both drop their hands at the same time, turning away to slide through the doorway and going their opposite directions.

The way they have communications set up is complicated. But the set-up, if explainable at all, is as follows:

At the base in the hospital, there are eight sets of radio transmitters. There are four for each of the four groups that are surrounding the compound.

Sky's group, Drake's group, Crow's group, and Steele's group.

In each group, are squads, who can only communicate with their leader, and the other squads. Sky's squads, group one, can only hear each other and Sky. Drake's squads, group two, can only hear each other and Drake. Same for Crow and Steele's groups.

Sky, Drake, Crow, and Steele pass on whatever info they get from Mark they feel they need to pass on to their squad leaders. In total, the men in the squads get their info from their squad leaders, who get their info from the group leaders, who get their info from Mark. Accurately of course.

Two other transmitters are for communicating with the smaller groups of five, closer to the compound. Just the two leaders of those smaller groups have radios.

The last two radios are the one for the Winchesters and the one for the sniper set up in the building they were crouched in.

Each radio belongs to someone who agreed with the plan of having Max kill their way in. It's manipulative, sure, but it's the only plan they had.

Mark stands behind all eight master radios with his group, monitoring progress, issuing orders, giving updates. All in all, it keeps things organized. The radio waves are kept clear. Communications are great. Everyone is ready to move in.

"What's the update?" Crow asks.

Mark picks up the sniper's radio. Going with the nickname Dean gave him, Mark asks, "Base to viper. Have the hawks made it into the nest?"

"Hawks have made it into the nest. Snake is nowhere to be seen. Wait. He just took someone out. Shit, the guy's good."

Mark chuckles, taking the radio for Crow from the crew member in charge of it. "The boys are in. Waiting for the signal."

"Drake to base, we have a problem."

Mark frowns. "What is it?"

"Some of my men say they've seen Max."

Mark almost laughs out loud. Drake should have been an actor. The guy sounded so serious when he said they had a problem. "Max? What's he doing here?"

One of the men at the controls in front of him snorts, but continues working.

Mark grins to himself. Maybe they all are a little too good at this acting thing.

"I don't know," Sky's voice comes in. "But my men have seen him too."

"What's he doing?"

"It looks like he's taking people out."

Good. He's doing his job. "The bastard. Sounds like Dean was right. He's gone off the rails. Is he attracting attention?"

A man leaning over the maps looks up and shakes his head at Mark. "You guys all deserve awards for this performance. Even I'm starting to believe you didn't know he was here. And I'm the one that gave Max the secrets of getting in!"

Mark winks at him.

"Negative. He seems to be keeping stealthy. What do we do?"

Mark lets his sigh be heard over the radio. He knows there are men in the groups that didn't approve of killing the humans around. He has to make it believable that Max wasn't their idea. "Let him keep going. We can't stop him without attracting the attention. The Winchesters will take him out if they see him. I know we agreed to not go in by killing the humans, but it looks like that's what's happening anyway. Be ready in case this goes south, boys."

The sniper, now called viper, talks over the radio. "Devious bastard."

To most, it would sound like he's talking about Max. Mark knows he's talking to him. He grins to himself. Everything is working exactly to plan right now.

Sam bides his time. He's tucked away in a storage room. The one of only three with a window. He's waiting for his chance to take out Max. Once he's taken out enough humans, it's Sam's job to get rid of him. Make sure he doesn't get them caught. Make sure he doesn't live to be loose in the new society that's going to be formed after the destruction of the leviathans.

Sam sees him now and then. Just flickers. A knife slit over a throat. Body pulled away and hidden. Barely a drip of blood dropped. A shadow within a shadow. Moving through the gaps. The guy is good, Sam has to admit. That's why it'll be such a pleasure to take him out. Sam's better. Max will never see it coming. He and Dean kept him oblivious to this part of the plan. It was almost too easy.

He checks his ammo, attaches the suppressor. He waits. As much as he hates using guns still, he's a little giddy with anticipation. His eyes move with Max. Able to follow him once he knows what he's looking for. He waits for a few more kills. Then raises his gun. He's seen a few leviathans looking a little distressed. They're noticing the loss of more than half of their human enforcements. It's time to take that part of the plan out.

The next time he sees a flicker, he shoots without hesitation. Instinct doesn't wrong him. He gets Max right in the back of the head. Perfect for making it look like just another human lying in his own blood. Even if his throat isn't slit, the leviathans won't know the difference. They'll think he was one of theirs.

His job done, Sam disassembles his gun. It's back to knives now. Though he keeps the gun with him. Sneaking out of the closet, he makes his way to find Dean.

"Snake has been taken care of," the leader from front line group one radios. "Looks like a Winchester took him down."

Mark nods. Good. Since the two front line groups are smaller and closer to the compound, it's no wonder they have a better view. "Any leviathan panic yet?"

The two people at the transmitters ask the question to the two groups.

"Negative," the leader of front line group one answers.

"No," the leader of front line group two answers at the same time. "But they are starting to figure it out. They have a few more minutes yet before the leviathans totally get it."

Mark lets out a sigh. "Good. Tell the groups to get ready," he tells his message relayers. "The Winchesters will let us know when to move in. Tell the two front line groups to start spreading out and moving closer. They'll go in first. Pave the way."

Mark turns to the maps as his team tells all of the groups what he said. He looks to the strategic plan overseer. "Go over the attack plan with me again. I want to be able to keep tabs on everyone."

He prides himself on being stealthy. Sure, he's not quite as good as Dean. Being bigger and heavier. But he's better than most people, even smaller than him. So when he gets himself noticed by someone just as big, he kind of hates it. How did he not hear them? And how did they move fast enough to knock him against the wall before he could even react?

It's always the head too. He always gets hit in the head. He tries to shake himself awake as he stands, but groans and winces when it only makes it worse. His eyes squeeze shut, a hand coming up to his head. Before he can pull together enough to protect himself, an arm is tightly around his neck and a knife is to his throat right under it.

He considers his options as his air supply quickly runs out. Reach up and risk plunging the knife into his throat himself, or freeze and hope the choke hold lessens a little. He decides on freezing. The man behind him doesn't move. His vision starts to get fuzzy, barely feeling the slight prick of the knife slightly cutting into his throat. The arm doesn't loosen.

He vaguely wonders how he always gets attacked by men bigger than him only when he's alone. When he has Dean with him, he never has any problem. But this guy is huge. And bigger than Sam is a rarity. Even though he's not quite back up to his past muscle. The training he and Dean keep up has gotten him almost there though. His vision starts to go black.

"Hey!"

Sam gulps in a quick breath when the arm jerks at the new voice, fireflies dancing across his eyes in answer to the new oxygen.

Dean stands at the end of the hall. Slowly, he walks forward. No weapon in sight in hopes to keep the man from killing Sam quickly. He takes in the size of the man behind his brother and the tight grip around Sam's throat. The knife is in a very dangerous spot. Right under the man's arm at Sam's jugular, a small cut already made to let blood flow freely. His brother's throat is bared in the way the man is holding his chin up with his elbow, the position restricting his breath just as much as the arm around his windpipe.

He sees Sam's eyes losing focus. "You have one chance. Let him go." His voice is even. Deadly.

The man only stares at him.

"Talking… won't work. Brainwashed," Sam gets out airily.

Dean curses to himself. Of course. Stupid. No mind of their own. He steps forward, hand moving slightly to his back.

"Move and I'll break his neck," the man behind Sam suddenly says.

Sam and Dean lock eyes. Shit. Now the brainwashing has been perfected. They have freedom within their orders. That explains why he hasn't actually killed Sam yet.

As if to prove just how right their suspicions are, the man lowers the arm with the knife to wrap around Sam's middle. The knife is placed in the vulnerable part, right beneath his ribs. But what catches Dean's attention is the way the arm pulls Sam back, snug against the body behind him. Dean's nostrils flare in anger, his jaw clenching. His eyes lock onto the smug face of the man where it's right next to Sam's.

Sam tenses in an icy shiver of shock at the change of his position before he sees the look in Dean's eyes. All of his fear disappears. "You better make peace with God," he chokes out with a grin, tilting his head slightly to his right to make sure the man knows it's directed at him.

Dean's gun is out in a second, a shot fired before either Sam or the man behind him could have even flinched.

The huge body falls to the ground, Sam following right behind. There is no echo of the shot, the suppresser doing its job.

Dean skids on his knees next to Sam, pulling him away from the man he had fallen back on, a disgusted glance thrown at the body. He lifts Sam's head into his hands, checking him over. "Hey, Sammy. You alright?"

Sam looks up at him, gasping for air. He winces when Dean goes to check his neck. "He had enough mind to threaten to-" his wheezing is cut off.

Dean grips Sam's face, his own twisted in fury, though not at Sam. "Don't. Don't ever bring this up again. You hear me? I don't ever want to think about that happening…" he closes his eyes. Even though his brother is just short of thirty and could probably fight his way out of a situation like that most of the time, the thought of someone even trying to do that to his brother makes him sick. Even if the man was brainwashed. That was a human decision. Beneath the leviathan brainwashing was a man who would have done that to his brother if he had the chance.

He takes a calming breath when he feels Sam's hand close tightly around his wrist. He moves to look the rest of Sam over. "Are you okay?" He runs his thumb just under the bleeding cut on Sam's throat. Not too deep, just enough to let out a steady stream. It's already trying to clot though. It should stop soon.

Sam nods, grimacing as he swallows. "Throat will be sore for a few days." His voice sounds like it was scraped over a cheese grater.

Dean stands, helping Sam up with him. "Sorry if I scared you with that shot. It was pretty close." He looks down to the perfectly centered bullet hole in the man's forehead.

Sam shakes his head. "I trust you. Especially when you get that look in your eyes."

Dean looks back to him, partly serious and partly cocky. "Of course. No one threatens my little brother." He pats Sam's arm, gripping his sleeve to pull him behind as he turns to go down the hallway. "Stay close. One rescue is enough per day."

Sam rolls his eyes and grins slightly. Dean would rescue him a hundred times a day if he had to. "Is everyone else in position?"

"Max is a killing machine," he hisses in both awe and revulsion. "Did you get him?"

Sam nods.

"We're almost clear to send the men in. We just need to get into position."

Sam nods. "Perfect."