Kittsbud & BurstynOut
Defeated, Sam lowered
his eyes and waited for the inhuman growl and hiss he
knew would bring his demise.
Haris, his eyes still lowered to the
floor chuckled softly. "Giving up so easily, Samuel?
I gotta say, I'm disappointed. You've gone soft on me."
He shrugged and stepped closer to his captive allowing
his host's breath to part the few strands of Sam's long
hair that weren't plastered to his forehead with nervous
sweat. "I guess it's understandable. Too many years
spent hiding behind Daddy and big brother. My bad, I
drew back again, eyeing Sam thoughtfully, his ears carefully
trained on John and Dean behind him. "'Ts alright
boy. I'm here now. Hiding's over. Obviously, that was
all just an enormous waste of time. You've just been
kidding yourselves all these years. You were never going
to escape; not from me, not from your destiny, not from
yourself…I've always had my claws in you, boy."
"You lie!" Sam spat, struggling
against the invisible grip. The words were sharp, and
his face was red with pain and anger, but he refused
to look anywhere but at his captor. John and Dean would've
seen the empty, dull look of resignation behind the
biting remarks. They weren't the only ones who'd learned
to don masks.
ha, yes, that I do," Haris agreed readily. "But
only when I need to. Truth works much better sometimes,
though. But I do go on. Don't mind me. Ya see, a couple
millennia in the ether kinda makes one miss the sound
of one's own voice. And this guy," he indicated
the body in which he resided, "is a lawyer. Has
quite a vocabulary, and he can go on for hours. I think
I like him. I may never stop talking." He half-winked
and cocked a grin toward Sam who lifted his chin defiantly
and looked down his nose at the demonic yellow eyes.
"Just letting ya know." Haris sneered.
Sam stole a glance at John and Dean,
refusing to meet their eyes but noting the way they
stood half-crouched as though ready to take on Haris
bare-handed. That would be suicide.
Samuel, don't worry about them," Haris said. "They
can't lay a hand on me or you unless I let them. Of
course, if I let them, they won't live to regret it.
That's on you. Just say the word, and I'm sure they'll
spring to your aid. Wouldn't be the first time, but
it'd sure as hell be the last. But then, that's kinda
your M. O. isn't it? You've been ruining their
lives for twenty-three years now."
shook his head, eyes squinting angrily. "You lying
bastard! Leave them out of it!"
"Oh, gladly, Samuel," Haris
consented, face open and almost amicable. "I would
have liked nothing better than to never have had to
deal with John or Dean Winchester at all. You're the
one who keeps them mired in this Samuel. You're the
one who's ruined their lives. Made your father a vengeance-driven
widower. Made your brother a pathetic social outcast
who thinks his only purpose in life is to look out for
you and Daddy. There's no chance he'll ever get a life
of his own."
Sam grunted and struggled against the
weight that pressed him into the wall once more. He
couldn't help but meet his brother's gaze this time.
Though Dean looked as stoic and concentrated as he always
did in the thick of a hunt, Sam recognized the wavering
shimmer in his eyes all too well.
"Oh yes, poor Deanie," Haris
sneered, catching Sam's glance. "So broken, so
pathetic, so lost. And who's fault is that? Hmm, Sam?
Who was it that took little Deanie's mommy away? Who
took his daddy? Who took his home? Who took his life,
Samuel?" A beat. "Oh…that was you. You
life-sucking little leech." Haris leaned closer
again and smiled brightly, the lawyer's bonded veneers
gleaming within spitting distance of Sam's face. "Good
job, by the way. That's my boy."
lunged forward but was held back by John's hand fisting
in his jacket. He relented to curb his attack once he
realized he had no weapon and, apparently, no backup,
but shrugged his jacket back onto his shoulders brusquely.
"Bastard!!" He shouted, defiantly. "You
did all of that! Don't listen to him, Sammy!"
Haris gazed approvingly at John's hand
now placed firmly on his son's shoulder. "Oh, do
shut up," he sneered. "If I wanted any crap
outta you, I'd just squeeze your head…Or, wait…maybe
I'd just squeeze Sam's head. I mean, I wasn't going
to go there, but if you insist…"
Dean paled and stilled beneath his
father's grip, cringing inwardly as Haris smiled in
approval. They glared at each other for several tense
moments. Sensing a repeat of the Missouri standoff building,
Sam broke the silence before Dean could.
"What do you want?" Sam demanded.
"Sam…" Dean interrupted.
up, Dean!" Sam snapped. No way was Dean going to
keep him from finding out what he need to know this
time, and no way was Dean going to force a change of
venue. Not this time. "I wanna hear what he's got
to say. I need to know."
"Good boy, Samuel," Haris
commended, turning back to his captive with a pleased
smirk. "Take charge. Be a man. Show me what you've
got." Haris leaned in even closer than he had at
any point prior. Sam could smell something bitter and
metallic on his breath, like black coffee and blood,
and hoped to God that wasn't what it really was. By
then, the Demon was close enough that, if he'd been
John or Dean, Sam knew he could've felt his eyelashes
against his cheekbones. It was disconcerting, having
those glowing eyes so close to his own that he couldn't
focus on them or glean their intentions. The hostage's
chest heaved as he tried to wrestle enough slack in
the invisible grip to turn his head away from the reeking
Haris pulled away again, eyes distracted
and thoughtful. "Answers is what you want then,
eh? I shoulda figured. I mean, you always were the smart
one, college boy. Stanford, right? Pre-Law?" He
nodded, as though reaching an agreement within his mind.
"That could prove useful." His tone was leading,
"I said," Sam gritted, teeth
clamped and lips curled back in a snarl. "What
do you want?"
"Ooh, spicy. I like that."
took another step back and turned the movement into
a small, controlled pace between the youngest Winchester
and his would-be protectors. "Isn't it obvious?"
He taunted. "C'mon, Samuel. Use a little common
sense, here. What could I possibly want with you? What
makes you so special? I mean, if it was your skill and
training I coveted, then your father would surely be
a better prize. If it was your blood, then your brother…"
His eyes rolled back in feigned bliss."Oh yes,
his blood is sooo sweet as I recall. Yummy. I'd have
to say, the sweetest I've tasted in a good while. So
no, Sam, it's not you I want, because when it all boils
down to it, you're just one of them, and not even the
best one, as humans go. No, I can have any mortal I
want. I think I've proven that on more than one occasion."
Sam ceased to struggle momentarily.
His brow furrowed deeply in confusion. "But you
said you had plans for me," he said. "Me and
all the children like me."
Haris pursed his lips and nodded. "Well,
yes, I do need you, to some extent. But it's not so
much you I need as what you have that I want."
"My powers," Sam stated bluntly.
Of course, that was obvious. All manner of creatures
were drawn to "the shining." He'd always assumed
that's why their quarry usually turned on him when Dean
would have seemed just as easy a target.
Haris agreed. "Your powers. You know, those pesky
little gifts of yours."
Sam snickered darkly at the mention
of the word "gifts."
Haris returned the smirk. "Well,
of course, you wouldn't see them as such. After all,
they've led me to you and your family all these years.
Kept me hot on your trail even when you thought it was
you who pursued me. As long as you have them, Sam, I
will always want you, and no one around you will be
From beside him on the wall, Sam heard
Sarah utter a frightened whimper as invisible claws
tightened around her throat as emphasis to Haris' threat.
I can, Samuel," Haris said. "I can stop it.
Whattya say, Mr. Pre-Law? You know something about contracts?
Wanna play Let's Make a Deal?'"
laughed again, this time in bitter amusement. "Why?
It's not like you'd honor it."
head jerked back as though he'd been struck. His lips
pursed in a silent "ooh," and his eyebrows
furrowed in feigned surprise. "I'm truly hurt by
that," he lied. "Well, no, I'm not. Good to
know my reputation precedes me." He lowered his
chin back down to line his eyes back up with Sam's as
he glared maniacally. "Really, though, what choice
do you have? Don't you at least wanna hear it?"
"Ahh!" Sarah cried out again,
tears streaming down her face as she was squeezed too
tightly against the wall to draw breath.
Grunting in frustration, Sam conceded.
"Fine! Let's hear it!"
Behind them, Dean took another step
forward, straining to get to his brother like a pit
bull on a chain.
"Oh, Samuel, Samuel. How do you
know you won't like this?" Haris asked. "You
don't even want your powers. They're a regular pain
in your ass," he stated matter-of-factly. "Not
to mention a pain in the asses of everyone you care
about. Wouldn't you like for them to just be gone?"
He would. Sam so wanted it to all be
over, the dreams, the headaches, the friggin' come-and-go
telekinesis that seemed always to go at the most inopportune
times. He hated that the Demon had picked up on his
denial and loathing. Whether or not the powers were
meant to be a gift, his abhorrence for them was his
weakness, and the Demon had found it. He looked away,
unwilling to show that his interest had been piqued.
saw it anyway. He leaned back, placed his hands in the
pockets of his suit jacket, and tucked his chin into
his chest. If he'd put on a couple hundred more pounds
and donned a red suit, he'd have looked downright jolly;
he was so pleased with himself.
can make this go away. If you want, I can take your
powers right off your hands," he suggested politely,
as though he were offering an iced tea on a hot, southern,
summer afternoon. "Won't even hurt a bit,"
he assured. "You just gotta give 'em to me willingly.
That's it. You do that, and you can go back to your
normal life. Hey," he suggested with a shrug, "might
even make a nice life with Sarah here. I'll go on about
my business, and you and yours will never hear from
Sam considered the offer but didn't
answer. After all, the "business" Haris was
referring to wasn't exactly house painting. His eyes
darted about the room as he tried to gain focus with
options swirling in his mind.
Confused, he looked to John and Dean.
John met his gaze with what he imagined was a reflection
of his own, shocked and uncertain. Dean however, shook
his head slowly and mouthed, "No, Sam," with
a determined set to his hazel eyes that Sam knew stemmed
from his brother's uncanny ability to cut through the
crap and see what was real and true. He trusted Dean
above all others, but he ducked his eyes away, wishing
that Dean had said anything else but that.
"What's the matter, Samuel?"
Haris asked, voice still calm and calculated. He really
did appear to be willing to listen to himself talk forever.
There was not even a twinge of impatience to indicate
that he was drawing short of tolerance. "Don't
be like that, son. This deal's more than fair,"
he suggested. "You get what you want, and I get
what's rightfully mine."
Sam's head jerked up, and his lower
jaw began to twitch as though it struggled to draw words
of protest through his tightening throat.
don't," Dean said, out loud this time, no longer
able to get Sam's eyes to focus on him.
right, Samuel," Haris countered. "Listen to
your brother. Don’t listen to me. It's all good."
He sighed, but Sam could tell it was only feigned. "I
was just trying to make this easier on you. You've been
a worthy adversary for a couple decades now. But don’t
kid yourself. I don't need you to talk this out. I don't
need you to give me your powers. Whatever I want…I
Haris lowered his head, eyes to the
floor, and the conduits above them reverberated with
the unearthly growl that shook the air around them.
Suddenly, Sam's head snapped back against
the wall, and he groaned through gritted teeth. His
chest began to heave with stifled screams. Blood trickled
and then ran freely from his nose, forcing him to open
his mouth in order to breathe. As the blood flowed over
his lip, he tilted his head reflexively to smear it
across the shoulder of his jacket. When he lifted it
once more, the whites of both eyes had gone red as well.
Haris grinned. "C'mon, Sammy boy.
You got all that power. Why don’t you make me
Granted a moment's reprieve, Sam drew
in a few deeper breaths of air and blinked through cloudy,
The Demon seemed downright giddy by
then, the coppery scent that was now pungent in the
air acting as a pheromone for his blood lust. "Oh,
that's right. You haven't figured that part out yet,"
he sneered. "I forgot. Ain't that a bitch?"
Dean watched Sam sway against the wall
as blood streamed from his tear ducts and ran around
his lips like river tributaries at an ocean delta. Unwilling
to accept being sidelined for a moment longer, he lunged
free of his father's restraining grasp and leapt to
his brother's aid.
He managed to cover several yards of
the divide, but before he could get within arm's length
of Sam, he was flung back into the corner. His head
snapped against the concrete and rendered him dazed
to the point of being unable to stand on his own.
"Ooh," Haris grimaced mockingly.
"That hadda hurt."
turned back to Sam, his gaze locked in determination.
"As I was saying. You don't have to give me the
powers. I can take them." He held a hand beneath
Sam's chin, caught several drops of flowing blood, and
raised his bloody fingers for Sam to inspect before
he licked them clean, eyes rolling in bliss. "But
you won't survive the stripping ritual, I'm afraid.
And, of course, if you force me to go that route, I'll
have no use for Daddy, Dean, or Sarah anymore. All bets
are off then. Unless you wanna reconsider that deal."
John helped Dean to his feet slowly,
noting the pained glaze in his eyes, and kept his body
between his son and the Demon as he listened intently.
Dean surprised him when he yelled out from his protected
niche. "Don't listen to him, Sammy," his older
son instructed, voice trembling like his knees. "He's
gonna kill us either way."
Sam twisted his head from side to side in an effort
to force his shoulders loose, but made no progress.
Exhausted, he sagged back against it with a sigh, glaring
at Haris with his blood-red eyes.
a quiet one," Haris noted contemplatively. "Guess
I shouldn't really be surprised." He moved closer
to Sam and tilted his head sideways with a quirk of
his eyebrows in an almost amicable expression as though
he were only going to brush his hair back from his forehead.
"You know who else was really quiet?" He said.
"Mary." He grinned and stepped back, pleased
as Sam's eyes narrowed in anger. "Oh, well, she
really didn't have a choice. I was squeezing her so
tightly that she couldn’t even whimper, really.
I couldn't take the chance on her screaming, what, with
Daddy downstairs and Golden Boy asleep down the hall.
That one did sneak out, though, and mmm, it was so sweet."
threw his head back, blinking lazily, as though savoring
a delicious sentimental moment with children at Christmas.
"Too bad. I woulda liked to hear her scream more.
She woulda sang so pretty. Sounded like bells…"
John and Dean both lunged forward this
time only to find themselves tossed bonelessly back
into the corner, both grunting between trembling jaws
as their eyes darkened with fury.
Haris didn't even blink, just continued
his monologue as though the elder Winchesters were nothing
more than flies.
on the other hand," he continued. "She was
a screamer." He laughed gleefully. "I thought
she'd never stop. I just let her go on and on…coulda
listened to that siren sing forever. See, I figured
if she kept it up, then maybe you'd hear and show yourself,
Sam. Thought you'd play hero and come rushing in to
save the day. But no, you didn't. You missed the entire
show. 'Cuz you weren't there, were you? A real shame.
It was a helluva finale." He turned to Sarah, gazing
at her as if only just discovering a hidden flower amongst
dandelions. "But hey, you don't wanna take the
deal…I can arrange for a repeat performance."
Sarah's chest rose and fell more deeply
for a moment, as though the grip around her had loosened
enough for her to breathe once more. Then, as though
pulled by her shoulders, she was dragged higher up the
wall. Sam found his head released from the grip of his
nemesis and turned it to watch in horror as Sarah began
to scream in agony.
tearing sound crackled through the air, and the demonic
growling commenced, decibels louder than it had been
previously. First there was only one slash, a harmless-looking
slip in the silk fabric of her tailored, white blouse
that became foreboding as the red outline spread and
seeped across her stomach. Her screams became louder
and more broken, until they were just one continuous
keening wail as the slash marks spread upwards along
her torso. Her deep brown eyes were dark with pain and
"STOP!" Sam shouted, unable
to take anymore. "STOP! Whatever you want, I'll
Dean shouted. "Sam, no!" But his cries fell
on deaf ears.
"I'll do it," Sam whispered,
Haris grinned as Sarah's screams subsided
to hitched whimpers and moans, her body sliding slowly
to the floor. "I thought you'd see things my way,"
he sneered. "So be it."
Sam tumbled to the floor, arms and
legs tingling from lack of circulation. He struggled
against the stabbing of the pins and needles, dragging
himself to a half-stand and staggering toward Sarah.
He was nearly at her side when a dark-clad figure emerged
from the shadows.
A single blow to the back of the head
left Sam blissfully unconscious on the hard concrete.
Two more figures emerged, and Haris
nodded to his fallen captive. Obediently, the newcomers
lifted the slack Winchester and began to drag him toward
Dean and John shouted simultaneously. Both lunged forward,
desperate to intervene, but were met instead with a
wall of dark-clad interlopers. The henchmen seemed to
come out of the woodwork, all clad in black but looking,
in all their stocky, long-haired, tattooed glory, like
Hell's Angels on a ninja kick.
"Oh," Haris said, putting
a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "I think I promised
Sam I'd let you live." He glanced at the unconscious
figure being dragged across the floor. "Well, what
he don't know won't hurt him."
Dean," he said. "These are my boys. Wish I
could stay for the show, but well, I've never been one
to overstay my welcome." Haris turned, hands clasped
behind his back decisively, and strode after his prize.
As he reached the doorway, he raised one hand and snapped
In an instant, the wall of dark soldiers
John and Dean unconsciously backed
up, the eldest Winchester noting his son’s still
faltering gait as they recoiled from their foes. Dean
had taken quite a knock, and even though John was certain
he would try and fight, the father was also sure his
son would not emerge victorious.
But then, with the amount of opposition
they faced, it was pretty much a certainty that neither
would live to see another dawn, regardless.
are you taking my brother, you sons of bitches?”
The question was spat out with such venom Dean almost
reminded himself of the “snake girl” he
had once been so entranced by. Right now, he almost
wished he had the use of her gift in this fight, as
he swayed precariously on knees that didn’t seem
to want to carry his weight.
The lead bad guy grunted, his thick-set
frame and Nordic features contorting with a bemused
grin. “Not something you need to know, little
one.” The voice was cavernous, taunting - the
depth of his tones almost sinking below a normal human’s
vocal range. And yet, this was no demon. No darkness
tainted his eyes.
one?'” Dean’s head tipped to the side in
feigned shock and he forced a smirk. “Dude, just
because I’m not as tall as my brother doesn’t
mean I can’t kick all your asses and have some
steel toe left to take out your buddy Harry.”
The hunter blinked, trying not to show that his vision
was still swimming in and out of focus from the demon’s
Deception was the only game they could
play now, and damned if Dean wasn’t getting good
at it after spending so much time in the presence of
demons and their familiars.
John shot a warning glance at his eldest, knowing Dean
would attack the growing mob before them, going on instinct
alone. Sometimes his son’s ill-conceived bravado
paid off, but not here, not now. There was a time to
fight and a time to reason. “You think because
you follow that thing it’ll give you immortality,
riches, power?” The experienced hunter put his
attention on the blond behemoth who seemed to be the
leader of Haris’ cohorts. “Trust me, all
you’ll get is a quick death.”
The thug laughed, taking the time to
turn and nod knowingly at his comrades in arms. When
he turned back, he pulled out a small curved blade with
serrated notches along one edge. He flashed it through
the still cascading light in the center of the room.
“Death,” he acknowledged, pursing his lips,
“is our ultimate goal. These mere mortal suits
we call bodies have too many limitations…”
straightened from his crouched, fighting stance, a look
of sudden realization spreading across his face as he
waved his arms almost dismissively. "Dude, I never
thought of that. You just might have a point there.
Let's see," he taunted, placing a hand to his chin
as though deep in thought, "Quick death and possible
resurrection as a mindless zombie or a life of getting
your ass beat down fighting the good fight against an
undying legion? Hmm?" A beat. "You know, I'm
getting kinda tired of getting my ass handed to me,
and yeah, this whole situation is looking pretty grim,
so I'm thinking I might like to join the winning team
for a change. What exactly do I gotta do to get into
the Hary Cary club? I mean, is there some kind of initiation?"
he talked, Dean took a small, casual step forward. He
was scrutinizing every part of the group before him.
Their number, their positions, their readiness to fight.
From what he could tell, only the blond leader appeared
to be armed, although under the dark, almost robe-like
clothing they could have a plethora of hidden artillery.
hunter paused, his eyes zeroing in on a small tattoo
that ran along one of the bad guys’ hands. The
colorful sigil brought back a memory from an earlier
gig in Louisiana, and the realization finally hit home
that he had fought members of this group before. These
are the bastards that stole my necklace! Why would they
want the amulet?
Dean licked his lips. "Whoa, nice tattoo, man.
That the 'get in the country club free' logo? I'm thinking
I need one of those. Is there a party involved? Like,
do we get to sit around, play truth or dare maybe, paint
pictures on each other, and braid our hair?"
The goons were obviously not used to being taunted.
If they'd been bluffing, then it would've just been
called. But why bluff when you had the winning hand?
They stood their ground, unflinching as Dean eyeballed
them through pain-glazed eyes.
Dean used the moment's hesitation and
stole a quick glance to the mill’s cold concrete
floor. Sarah had curled into a ball, clutching at the
heinous wounds inflicted by Haris to try and stem the
blood flow. Still, the scarlet liquid ebbed from her
body and seeped through her fingers until it pooled,
just like his own had back at the cabin in Missouri.
The hunter flinched, instantly feeling
the pain Sarah was enduring as if it were his own. Once,
not so long ago, it had been.
blond leader followed his gaze and seemed to understand
the brother’s thinking. Perhaps Haris had informed
his “toy soldiers” about the Winchesters,
or perhaps it was simply intuition. Either way, the
stocky disciple decided he wanted a show of his authority.
Enough with the grandstanding already.
Killing John and Dean for his master
would, undoubtedly, be easy with so many of the cult
members at his disposal, but killing the girl first
and letting his people soak in his sacrificial offering
would be much sweeter- especially if the Winchester
boys were made to watch. After all, what was a sacrifice
with no one to mourn the price?
think it’s time to put your brother’s play
thing out of her misery, don’t you? I can see
her pitiful moaning is bringing back bad memories for
you, little one.” He made the blade in his hand
cut a slicing motion near his own neck and then grinned.
“I’d hate for you to have any unpleasant
thoughts of our master. It is our job to defend his
honor, after all…better to slit the bitch’s
throat now and end both your torments…”
Dean’s eyes flashed to his father’s,
and this time John let his head tip just enough for
his son to see his acknowledgement. They were outnumbered
four-to-one. There was no chance of escape, but if they
were going to die, it would be fighting to save Sarah
from anymore suffering. The blood of innocents wasn't
a price they paid often or willingly. That was the Winchester
blond leviathan stooped, grabbing a handful of Sarah’s
hair and tugging at it until her head was yanked pitilessly
from the concrete where it had rested. She screamed
in pain and fear, but the cry was half-muted by the
blood rising in her throat.
needing, wanting the kill, the dark-clad mob began to
chant in some unknown dialect. Some flicked back their
cloaks to reveal hideously sharpened weapons whichthey
clanked together over their heads in some malevolent
salute to both leader and demonic master.
The show of intrinsic evil was all
the catalyst Dean and John needed.
Both Winchesters dived for the leader,
knowing if they could take him as a hostage they might
hold off the rest of the group.
Dean concentrated on acquiring the knife, John attempted
to subdue their quarry with a swift and painful right
jab to his mouth. “You talk too much, just like
the thing you serve!”
the blow nor the jibe seemed to faze the thug, and,
instead, he licked the small glob of blood that formed
on his bottom lip as if it were candy, savoring the
taste of iron with glee.
“Kill them!” The leader’s
bass tones echoed through the mill, and any hesitation
his group felt dissolved at his command.
The mob moved forward as John punched
their commander again in an effort to force his submission,
but the man was just too strong. In all his time fighting
the ungodly, the elder hunter had never come across
anyone without demonic powers who could withstand such
punishment without flinching. “Who the hell are
you?” He gasped down a breath and dared to steal
a fleeting look at the throng gathering around him.
maybe what the hell are you?” Dean offered,
finally prying the curved knife from his captive’s
fingers with a determined tug. “Maybe Harry gave
you a little extra something to keep your followers
under your thumb, huh?”
Dean pressed the blade to his foe’s
throat until it dented the flesh but didn’t quite
draw blood. “Back off or your man here gets his
wish to join ol’ Harry in hell.” He addressed
the cult members as if they might actually care.
A figure stepped from the mob. Small,
yet intimidating like his master. He sported the same
tattooed sigil as the rest, although he wore no robe.
In his left hand, he carried an axe that reminded Dean
of the one Mordachai Murdock had used. “We don’t
bargain. We kill.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought
you’d say. You freaks are kinda redundant with
your dialogue. Guess you caught that from Harry, too.”
Dean pushed the leader harshly to the ground and made
a dash for Sarah.
did much the same, and between father and son they managed
to lift the girl to her feet. She groaned in protest
as her body was yanked swiftly from what she had assumed
would be her last resting place. “Leave…me,”
she pleaded. “You can’t fight them off and
“Sweetheart, I’m not leaving
you anywhere.” Dean winked, needing to keep Sarah
awake, even if he had to be a sarcastic rogue to do
it. “Hell, I told Sammy to marry you. Can’t
just go and leave you here, now can I?” He paused,
turning sharply to toss the knife he’d acquired
after their pursuers.
The blade zipped past “axe man’s”
head and bounced off the nearby wall, clattering to
the concrete with a metallic clank.
“You need to practice your…knife
throwing skills,” Sarah panted, slightly impressed
with the fact they had evaded capture for a minute.
Even if it was a minute her failing body couldn’t
“She has a point, son.”
John’s eyes twinkled briefly, and he let go of
Sarah’s arm, frantically tugging at a rusty door
handle that appeared to be their only escape route.
Dean huffed, not believing his abilities
were being questioned, given their current situation.
“Bite me,” he retorted, "See how your
aim is when you're seeing everything in triplicate.
And how do you know I didn't mean to miss him?"
He said, grabbing a small hunk of steel he’d spotted
on the floor with his free hand and whirling it in the
face of the nearest thug.
The steel bounced off the man’s
nasal bone, leaving it squashed and bloodied, but he
still kept coming, managing to land a fist in Dean’s
face before he had time to dodge the punch.
staggered back, losing his tenuous grip on Sarah as
the blow made his ears ring. So gotta stop getting
tossed around by bad guys today…
caught Sarah before she could hit the ground and gave
up on opening the door. It was either locked or barricaded
from the other side. That meant they were now backed
into a corner by Haris’ goons with no way out.
I can’t die here, not while that bastard demon
has my son…
retrieved his steel bludgeon and spun it around like
a band leader’s baton, taking position between
the lead bad guy and his father, who now cradled the
failing Sarah in his arms. “I’m gonna kick
your ass,” he addressed “axe man.”
“And then I’m gonna kick your ass…”
The hunter pointed his makeshift weapon at the blond
leader, letting him know he and his father would never
surrender. Gotta get out of here, for Sammy’s
The gang stopped advancing, their leader
pushing through their masses until he was nose to nose
with Dean. A hand-to-hand fight, suited him just fine.
He waved a hand, signaling for the
mob to back up just enough to make room for his little
“arena.” “Ah, little one. Time for
me to snap your neck like a turkey’s before Thanksgiving.”
Dean’s eyebrow rose cockily. and he continued
to twist his metal baton. “Dude, lotta people
tried, lotta people died.” At least they don’t
“Am I supposed to be impressed?”
The leader unexpectedly grabbed one of his own people
from the crowd and wrapped a brawny arm around the man’s
neck. Without remorse or guilt, he squeezed until a
grating crunch signaled the snapping of the man’s
Unfazed, the leader let his cohort’s
body slump from his grasp and then stepped over it towards
Dean. If the Winchesters had ever doubted his strength,
they didn’t now.
Dean didn’t wait to feel his own neck being
crushed by the demon’s advocate. He swung back
with the bar, fully intending to slam it into the arrogant
jerk’s face until he backed off or fell down.
Hand-to-hand was only fair if the odds weren’t
stacked in the other guy’s favor, and right now,
Dean was sure they were.
The steel bar reached halfway to its
destination before its intended target caught it with
one hand, stopping its motion mid-flight.
Dean looked on incredulously as Haris’
pawn tore the rod from his grip and tossed it aside
with a shrug. “Turkey time, little one.”
He smiled, beckoning for Dean to come forward and accept
“Yeah, well no offence, dude,
but I’m a steak man myself…I don’t
hear any gobble, gobble.” Dean backed up until
he was level with John and Sarah. He glanced at the
girl who was almost unconscious now and wanted to tell
her he was sorry. Sorry he’d encouraged Sam to
see her. Sorry he’d let her get involved when
all the women in their family ended up dead.
turned his attention to John, unsure if he even had
time for words. If this was to be their final swan song,
there should be something said between them. Something,
anything to bridge the gap caused by the demon
and make them a real family before it was too late.
John said sadly. If anyone should have been mending
fences at that moment, it was John, and he knew it.
His own words failed him, but he'd be damned if he'd
let his son spend his last moments accepting any of
the responsibility for what their relationship had become.
eyes spoke volumes that Dean could read even in the
failing light, but his mouth never got the chance to
speak the words.
the episode here