Winchester pulled his black truck to a stop outside
the gate to Lexington Reservoir Station Number 4. It
was just before midnight and the moonless sky helped
create an eerie feel to the pump station and the water
as it rested undisturbed within the huge catchments.
glanced at his watch, knowing he had some time before
the scheduled meet was to take place. He hated being
late for anything, years of Marine “promptness”
drilled into his head. Yet, there was something to be
said for being early. Being early meant that he had
time to kill, and time to kill meant he had time to
think. Thinking lately for John Winchester meant that
he could reflect on the one thing that haunted his every
waking thought: Haris!
demon was out there and even more active than he’d
been before. There certainly had been enough signs recently
to validate that. There was no doubt that he was coming
after John’s boys, maybe even more so since Dean
had tried to bind him in the bow of a submerged ship
and add to the fact that Sam’s deal with the demon
had miraculously been broken. If demons could be pissed,
then John felt sure that Haris was definitely one pissed-off
demon. To some extent, there was a certain amount of
satisfaction to be taken in knowing that his sons had
harried the yellow-eyed demon.
knew it was all just a matter of time before Haris caught
up to his sons. Just a matter of them slipping up or
letting their guard down for one critical second and
that bastard would claim them both. If John Winchester
had thought that the pain of losing his beloved Mary
had been agonizing, he knew he’d never survive
the loss of his boys to the same demon. A fact his sons
had never understood, never comprehended when he tried
to keep them out of harm’s way. Sam had always
assumed that John’s disappearances were part of
some effort to keep him out of the big battle. And Dean,
well Dean was the faithful trooper, always doing whatever
John asked without question, at least until recently,
when it seemed that Dean’s loyalty had shifted
slightly more to Sam than to John.
for all his sons’ misunderstanding, maybe even
for his own misguided efforts, it was all about protecting
his boys. Finally, John had a plan. He’d spent
the better part of the last several months hunting and
researching, but he was now fairly certain it would
work. It might not be the best plan in the entire world,
but at least it gave him some hope, some glimmer of
watch beeped out its alarm, alerting him to the hour
and his appointment. John pushed away the thoughts and
climbed from the cab of the truck. He patted the pocket
of his jacket, reassured that the 9mm was tucked away
inside. He was meeting another hunter, but years of
experience taught him that one could never be too careful.
walked slowly toward the tall gate of the pump station,
looking around cautiously as he advanced. The scuff
of a boot on concrete caused him to spin around, instantly
alert, his hand halfway inside his jacket until he relaxed
as recognition of the person approaching eased him.
John. It’s been a while,” the taller man
replied back. “How ya’ll been?”
shrugged. “You know, saving people, hunting things.
Second verse, same as the first.”
nodded, smiling back easily.
same here. Just got done with a job down near Texarkana.
Woman said there was a ghost of some man haunting her
house, breaking things, scaring her and her friends,
typical poltergeist kinda stuff. Hired me to get rid
of it. I’m getting my ass kicked by this dude
’cause he got no intention of going down without
one helluva fight. Come to find out, she killed the
poor bastard, then moved into his place, took all his
money, all his stuff. Needless to say, he was one vengeful
you salt and burn the body?” John asked.
paused, then his face spread in a wide grin. “Hell
no! I figured she got what was coming to her. Better
justice than anything our court system was likely to
hand out. Besides, the good ol’ boy was just protecting
what was his anyway. I figure it was a match made in
heaven, er… maybe
chuckled and Jefferson joined him, their laughter breaking
the silence of the dark night. When the moment passed
and seriousness returned, John broke the awkward silence.
what’s going on Jefferson? Why all the secrecy?
Why meet out here of all places?” John asked.
lanky Texan looked down toward his boots, scuffing his
right nervously back and forth as he absently toed at
a stray pebble.
John asked again, his tone filled with apprehension
as the skin on the back of his neck began to prickle.
you have to understand. After Tennessee, after what
we saw at Haris’ compound, a lot of hunters, well,
you know how they are John.”
Jefferson. Why don’t you tell me how they are,”
John snapped back.
we saw things. We saw your boys, well, you were there,
you know what we saw. What do you expect? Things are
pretty black and white for hunters. It has to be for
us to do the jobs we do.”
that’s what this is all about? You want to get
my boys? You think I’m just gonna hand ’em
over to ya?”
we didn’t expect that you would John.”
deep voice came from behind him and John spun around
to come face to face with Sid Morrow. He instantly recognized
the burly hunter from the assault on Haris’ compound
and later on the attack at Bobby’s.
see, we know how you prize those sons of your above
everything else in this world, Winchester,” Sid
sneered as he leveled a 9mm at John’s chest. “And
we know that you’d die a thousand deaths before
you’d ever give them up. But, we’re willing
to bet that your sons aren’t quite as hardened
as dear old papa, freaks that they are.”
shook his head and looked back at Jefferson. The betrayer
turned away, unable to face the accusing glance of his
give it your best shot, Morrow. But you just remember,
I raised and trained my boys to be hunters. They didn’t
just wake up one day at twenty and say ‘hey, what
do I want to be when I grow up? They’ve ate, drank,
slept and breathed hunting since they were kids. Every.
Single. Day,” John spat back defiantly.
nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, you trained them,
but then, you fell for our trap too,” he stated
simply pulling the trigger on the pistol.
gun discharged shattering the stillness of the night
and even disturbing the calm of the water as two mallards
stirred from their nest. Sid looked down at the motionless
body of John Winchester, a wry smile crossing his face.
had almost been too easy!
Yates, North Dakota
threw open the door to room number twenty of the Sitting
Bull Motor Lodge and walked inside. The uncontrolled
laughter that had emanated from the older brother softened
abruptly as he led the way into the room. Always cautious,
Dean Winchester usually made it his objective to be
the first through the door whenever they came back to
the room. It was an unconscious habit that he’d
developed many years back, but it had saved the brothers’
asses more than a few times.
the lights were on and a quick sweep of the room revealed
no immediate threats, Dean felt the hilarity return.
Sam sensed it too and inwardly cringed.
telling ya, Sammy, the look on your face, it was priceless.
If I’d have had a camera, we’d be a million
dollars richer after I submitted the video to one of
those programs on T.V.,” Dean chuckled as he tossed
the gear bag onto the nearest bed. He dropped into one
of the chairs, slouching back and still laughing as
he watched Sam follow him in.
real funny, Dean. How was I to know that crazy old woman
was gonna come flying out of that cornfield?”
trudged in behind him, a thin cover of dark brown covering
the lower half of his jeans and most of his back side.
He mimicked Dean by discarding his own bag on the adjacent
bed and was about to follow the pack’s path when
Dean abruptly stopped him.
no way!” Dean shouted, rising to his feet. He
grabbed Sam by the shoulder and spun him towards the
closed bathroom door. “This is one time I won’t
fight you for the first shower. Bad enough the Impala’s
gonna smell like cow manure, but no way I’m gonna
sleep in here tonight with the room smelling like a
freakin’ barn. Get your ass in there and wash
that stench off ya.”
acquiesced, feeling the tightness beginning to seep
into the muscles of his legs and lower back. If Dean
was willing to sacrifice hot water to be rid of the
odor, then Sam was will to oblige his older brother
and indulge his aching body. Besides, it served Dean
right for making fun of him.
watched his baby brother slowly move into the small
bathroom. He could tell from Sam’s body language
that the younger man was sore and gradually becoming
stiff. Yet, even as the door closed behind Sam, Dean
barely stifled the smirk as he recalled the evening’s
brothers had come to Fort Yates just a couple of days
before on what seemed to be another Woman in White type
of case. Except, as they investigated further into the
sightings, they found that it was actually a "woman
in black" that the locals had claimed to have seen.
Even more strange was that while there had been deaths
associated with the sightings, unlike the case in Jericho,
none of the men actually disappeared. There were no
blood-stained cars left behind and in fact, most of
the men’s death’s looked to be accidental.
spent the first day in town researching the local news
sources for reports of any suspicious deaths or suicides
on the roads outside of Fort Yates. But an afternoon
spent in the local library turned up little more than
weary eyes for Sam and a couple of potential phone numbers
dinner, they drove out to the area where most of the
sightings and deaths had occurred, but an early evening
thunderstorm seemed to have warded off any likelihood
that their spook was going to appear.
day spent checking out the town and basically poking
around only left the brothers more skeptical as they
headed back out to Black Tongue Hill that evening. Sure
there were plenty of stories about a ghostly apparition
dressed in black wandering the roadway and preying on
unsuspecting male drivers, but there weren’t really
the tell-tale deaths associated with her as the hunters
would have expected.
they began by driving the four mile stretch back and
forth just after dusk, but when the woman in black failed
to appear, Sam proposed that maybe she was a “no-show”
because they were both in the car. Of course, the only
problem with Sam’s logic was that it meant he
got to hide off in the edges of the cornrows since there
was little chance that Dean would give up the driving
was on the tenth or eleventh pass that the excitement
really started. As the Impala crested the top of the
hill, a small figure enshrouded in black stood ethereally
in the center of the road.
slammed on the brakes to the old Chevy, screeching the
tires as the car shuddered sideways to a stop. He stared
curiously at the slight shape before him in the headlights;
long white hair cascaded outward as the evening wind
whipped over the high plains, a thin black shawl wrapped
tightly around bony shoulders, tattered edges joining
the hair in its wild dance.
woman stood there, mockingly, defiantly, as though she
were eager for Dean to continue towards her. He obliged
her, gunning the accelerator while she cackled maniacally.
But just as the car was nearly to her, she dodged to
the side and dashed into the one of the many lines of
rapidly hit the speed dial button on his phone to Sam,
eager to alert his brother even though he could have
nearly shouted from his position to where he had left
Sam hiding off the side of the road.
the end, it hadn’t mattered. Sam’s startled
yelp sounded out both from the cellular as well as across
the dark North Dakota sky as the old woman popped out
of the field and nearly right on top of the younger
not a ghost, but only slightly less angry and deranged,
she clawed and shrieked sufficiently to rival the best
of banshees, hopping onto Sam’s back as he whirled
about the cornfield blindly trying to dislodge her while
Dean shouted at him over the phone.
the time Dean pulled the Impala to the side of the road
and scrambled from the car, Sam was seated on the ground
with an equally disheveled looking old woman sitting
several feet away. The old woman looked back and forth
between the brothers, glaring at each of them in turn.
Both she and Sam alike were covered in muck although
Sam bore more scratches from both her nails and the
drew up short, taking in the scene and chuckling slightly.
“She’s no ghost dude.”
had looked up at him, flinging down mud from his fingers.
“You don’t say, Sherlock?”
so they pieced together that the old woman, every flesh
and bone bit of her, had created her own fragment of
urban legend by taking up “haunting” that
particular stretch of lone highway. Getting her back
to town and to the local hospital encompassed several
more scratches and a few near-miss bites for both of
them, but Sam insisted and after all, as Dean rationalized,
they couldn’t exactly salt and burn her anyway.
hours later, showered, slightly refreshed, and definitely
on the downside of a less-than-typical hunt, Sam and
Dean headed back out to grab a quick bite to eat before
calling it a night.
telling you, Sammy, I know you’ve been looking
for easy hunts ever since Harrisburg, but dude, I think
this one might take the cake. Actually, does this even
qualify as a hunt?” Dean mused as he finished
tying the laces to his boots.
please, can’t you just let it drop?” Sam
whined, grimacing slightly as he stretched to pull a
t-shirt over his head.
what’s the matter, Sam? You sore cause granny
got the drop on ya or 'cause she got the free piggy-back
ride?” Dean asked, rising up and grabbing his
cell and keys. “I know, you’re just embarrassed
because your scream sounded more girlie than hers did.”
ha ha,” Sam answered in fake laughter. “And
once again, I bow to your sparkling witticism and obtuse
paused at the door, staring at his younger brother as
he tried to wrap his brain around the words. He knew
there was a "dig" in there somewhere, but
like always, Sam’s larger vocabulary left him
speechless. Shrugging, he merely waited for Sam to walk
out the door before pulling it closed behind them, choosing
to focus on the grumbling in his stomach rather than
the temptation to tease his brother any more.
he took a single step towards the car, the first strong
chords of Black Sabbath’s Ironman
warbled out from Dean’s cellphone. He stopped
abruptly, fishing into the right pocket of his jeans
and looking at the caller ID before hastily jabbing
the button to answer the call.
he asked tentatively, trying to mask the hesitancy in
his voice. After all, the last communication he’d
had with his dad hadn’t exactly gone all that
well following Sam’s near-death in New Jersey.
is that you?” Dean repeated when there was no
drew closer, seeing the concern in his brother’s
face and hearing the name, now said twice. “Dean,
what is it? Is it Dad? Is he okay?” he asked rapidly.
waved him off as he strained to listen for any response.
He was about to call out for his father again when a
harsh grunt emitted from the phone followed by his dad’s
Son, I need you to listen carefully, okay?” John
yeah, sure, dad,” Dean stammered back, his heart
beginning to race as he detected the urgency and even
the hint of pain in his father’s voice.
I’m needing a little help on a hunt I’ve
been on. I’m uh, up near Northern Wisconsin, after
a Hodag. I need some help Dean. The thing’s a
big bitch and I can’t seem to bring it down by
myself. I need you and Sam to bring the Colt and the
special bullet to me. It’s the only thing that’ll
work on something like this,” John explained,
his voice raspy as he tried to feign normality, but
Dean knew better.
more than any other living soul on the planet, could
read John Winchester’s tells. Not that it was
saying much, considering that John basically had two
emotions that he showed the world: angry and determined.
But over twenty years of hunting, Dean had also glimpsed
fear, desperation, and pain. If Sam wanted to accuse
his older brother of building walls and hiding his emotions,
then Dean had to admit that he’d learned it from
Did you hear me?” John’s voice cut through
the elder son’s reverie.
Dad, I understand. Are you okay? Where are you exactly?”
Dean demanded, pacing the sidewalk in front of the motel.
just do as I…” John’s voice rose in
irritation but before Dean could press for more information,
his father’s voice and the call were abruptly
stopped, looking blankly at the silent phone in his
hand. He shoved the cell back into his pocket and wiped
a sweaty palm against the front of his jeans as he looked
up at his brother.
eyes met Dean’s, questioning him, needing his
older brother to fill in the gaps to the bad news he’d
already gleaned from Dean’s reaction. He tried
not to notice the slight tremble in his older brother’s
hand as Dean unlocked the door to their room.
what’s going on? Where’s dad? Is he okay?”
sucked in a deep breath, moving across the room and
grabbing his gear bag.
in trouble, Sammy,” he began, as he rapidly stuffed
clothing into the pack. “Someone or something
has him. He was trying to warn us.”
did he say exactly? Do you know where he is?”
Sam asked eagerly, moving to mimic Dean and packing
his own belongings.
not sure. He said he was hunting a Hodag in northern
Wisconsin. Hodags are bogus, never existed.”
know that, Dean, but what does that mean?”
he also said that he needed our help hunting it, but
to bring the Colt and the special bullet. He said the
special bullet was the only thing that could bring the
Hodag down,” Dean repeated.
we’re heading to Wisconsin?” Sam asked.
spun around to face his brother, slamming the backpack
down on the bed. “What do you mean, no? Dean,
something’s got Dad and we’re not going
to get him?”
Sammy, we’re not. Dad calls us and tells us that
he’s hunting a bogus creature. Then he tells us
to bring him the Colt, which we don’t have, and
the special bullets, that we know are fake. He’s
telling us that whatever he says is also a lie. He doesn’t
want us coming after him,” Dean explained.
exhaled in frustration, plopping down onto the bed and
staring up at Dean. He shook his head angrily, until
his brother noticed that Sam had ceased packing.
Sam?” Dean shouted, his own irritation compounded
by fear for their father and the desire to beat something,
anything, with his fists right at this particular
is Salvation all over again, just like when Dad was
taken before,” Sam griped. “We sit with
our thumbs up our asses and wait while a demon or whatever
is not Salvation and by the way, I was right then too,”
Dean threw back. He calmed slightly, stopping his own
hasty packing and squatting down to face his brother.
“Sam, trust me, please. We need more intel first.
I don’t think this is Haris. Call it a gut feeling,
but this is something else. Dad’s trying to warn
us and the deal with the Hodag, there’s more to
it than just the ruse. We gotta talk to Bobby.”
'cause Bobby Singer and John Winchester once went on
a Hodag hunt together. Course, all they returned with
was a pickup truck full of empty beer cans and some
stories that never made a helluva lot of sense,”
Dean answered, a wry grin crossing his face.
loosed a brief laugh breaking the tension as he pictured
Bobby and his dad on some drunken pseudo-hunt.
rose to his feet and slung the backpack over his shoulder,
moving over to gather the laptop.
we can be at Bobby’s by midday tomorrow then?”
didn’t immediately answer. With his back turned
away from his brother, he hoped his voice wouldn’t
betray him. He really had no idea if Bobby could help
them or not. He wasn’t even sure if he had interpreted
his dad’s message correctly. For all he knew,
their dad could be dead by now.
Sam. By tomorrow,” he answered simply, forcing
the negative thoughts from his head as he walked over
to the motel room door and looked out into the night.
beat on the rusted fender of the old Ford with the ball-peen
hammer, sweat glistening on his brow beneath the rim
of his baseball cap. He momentarily stopped his labor
to remove the hat and run an equally sweaty forearm
across his forehead.
was already shaping up to be a humid day, but if he
wanted to get the old truck running any time in the
near future, he knew he needed to get some of the creases
out of the metal so that it didn’t gouge into
the tire when it turned.
the fact that Bobby considered himself a hunter first
and foremost, he faced the reality that it didn’t
pay the bills. Unlike others of his kind that hired
themselves out as mercenaries or chose other means of
keeping fed and clothed, Bobby elected to maintain something
a little more law-abiding, at least on the surface.
having a salvage yard wasn’t the most glamorous
occupation in the world, but then, it also kept people
from asking questions and for that matter, any greater
expectations of him. After all, junkmen were by popular
definition, a strange lot. Why should he bother to try
to change anyone’s opinion on the profession?
tucked the hammer underneath his left arm and pulled
a beat-up thermos from the bed of the truck. Even in
the heat, he still preferred coffee before noon and
then, well, something with more of a kick to
drink for after the lunch hour.
the thermos, he reached inside the old pickup and turned
up the volume on Tammy Wynette and whoever was cheating
on her now. He tapped the side of his grungy jeans in
time with the song before picking up the rhythm with
the hammer against the metal once more.
worked on the fender for another ten minutes until he
stepped back to eye the line of the vehicle and was
satisfied that it would suffice. With the radio still
blaring, he then ducked underneath the hood, his attention
fixed on the radiator.
where are you leaking from?” he asked, his hands
running over the back of the grille and across the attached
hoses. “I 'spose I’m gonna have to replace
took out a wrench and began loosening the bolts that
held the part in place, resorting to beating on the
radiator with the tool when it failed to come loose.
the cacophony of country music and hammering echoed
throughout the property, the stealthy approach of six
armed men went unnoticed. They spread out in a standard
flanking formation, leap-frogging ahead of each other
by twos, each pair covering the one before them as they
darted from one point of cover to the next. Within a
few seconds, the teams had closed in on the unaware
yards behind them, a lone figure walked casually through
the mounds of stacked, rusting hulks. Seemingly unconcerned
about covertness, the figure watched from behind as
the teams took up their places strategically.
a wave of a small hand, Rennie Lofton signaled the group
to continue. Her dark hair hung loose, obscuring her
features but not hiding the steely glare from her eyes.
The men she commanded held no particular respect for
her, but the stories that circulated about the vicious
scar that bisected the otherwise creamy complexion of
her face were nearly an urban legend on their own.
any of the stories were true, no one but Rennie knew
for sure, but the woman’s tense body language
and terse speech generally told everyone to “stay
clear” regardless. Those that she allowed close
enough to hunt with her knew she her looks were deceiving.
Like a pitbull, the woman was a bundle of muscle in
a small package. And like the breed, she tended to fight
just as ferociously.
creature or demon spawn from hell, it didn’t matter
to Rennie, everything was perfectly simple in her mind:
hunt it and kill it.
watched as one of the men from the lead team pulled
the rifle from his shoulder and drew a bead on the target.
Bobby Singer would never know what hit him. Quick and
efficient, Rennie had argued for doing the job herself,
but Sid had insisted on the extra men.
at Bobby now, she didn’t see why Sid was so concerned.
This man, this supposed hunter, didn’t look like
much to her, even less than she remembered him from
the assault in Tennessee. Hammering on the engine of
some broken down old truck, Singer didn’t look
to be much more than the old beater he was working on.
a waste of manpower,” she griped. “Could’ve
taken this old codger in my sleep.”
continued to watch in feigned boredom as the sniper
took careful aim. Rennie felt the sudden cool breeze
blow the hair from her face and she silently willed
the shooter to hold until it passed. A dozen yards away,
she heard the clanking of the wrench suddenly stop,
followed by a low “sonofabitch.”
Rennie shouted a silent warning even as the gunshot
barked out. The female hunter slapped her hand on a
nearby car frame in disgust as she watched Bobby duck
down to retrieve a dropped wrench just as the bullet
ricocheted off the metal of the hood inches from where
his head had just been.
element of surprise lost, the hunters began firing rapidly
and randomly as their target ducked behind the relative
safety of the truck. Rennie rolled her eyes in frustration
and pulled her own .45 as she took off in a run to join
in the battle.
* * * *
breathed heavily as the hail of bullets rained around
him. He was too busy being angry with himself for having
let his guard slip to be truly surprised by the attack.
Still, there’d be time for self-recrimination
later, right now he was outnumbered, exposed, and unarmed.
listened intently, marking the positions of his attackers
from the reports of their weapons. They might have the
numbers and the surprise, but Bobby Singer wasn’t
stupid. He’d prepared for this possibility years
in advance, strategically placing those so-called junked
cars throughout the property, likewise leaving little
hidden caches of weapons where he could get to them
if need be.
between the rows, he hunkered down when he reached the
frame of an old Ford Escort. Reaching underneath the
hatchback, he grabbed the stashed shotgun with his left
hand as his right sought out the loose shells that were
tucked beneath the mat.
he was back on the run, taking only the briefest opportunity
to turn and fire whenever one of his enemies got too
close. He only casually recognized the sting of a bullet
that cut through his upper arm, tugging at his shirt
as it dug a furrow into his bicep. Another whizzed past
his head, narrowly missing him and fragmenting metal
as it penetrated the door of the truck beside him.
ignored the panic that was threatening the back of his
mind, focusing only on the back door to his house and
the relative safety that it represented. Taking a tentative
step away from his cover, he caught the movement of
the man out of the corner of his eye and quickly ducked
back. Waiting till his foe committed to stepping out
into the clearing, Bobby took careful aim and fired
man went down with a scream, clutching his ruined leg
as he writhed on the ground. Bobby took the opportunity
and darted for the backdoor to the house. He was nearly
through the door when he felt the bullet slam into the
back of his left shoulder, spinning him around so that
he was face to face with the shooter.
he shouted, seeing the woman standing several feet away,
the .45 still raised in her hand.
she could pull the trigger again, he dropped and rolled
into the house, hearing the bullet splinter the wood
frame of the door. Bobby slumped against the kitchen
cabinets, limply holding the shotgun in his numb left
arm as he pushed several more shells into the weapon.
the other hunters surrounded the ramshackle house, firing
round after round into the walls. High-caliber automatics
pierced holes through the siding, spraying papers and
shattering glass as they continued their path through
the interior of the house. Bobby crawled along the floor,
keeping low as the barrage continued, coming to a halt
when he reached the wall between the living room and
the book-filled dining room.
Rennie’s voice rose above the din of the weapon’s
fire. “Come on, Bobby, why make this so hard?
You got nowhere to run now. You’re trapped.”
older hunter responded to the taunt by firing his shotgun
defiantly through the large window to his right. He
knew he wasn’t going to hit anything, but he had
no intention of letting that bitch think he was giving
you bleeding bad, Bobby? Vision getting a little blurry?
Hands getting shaky? We can just wait till you bleed
to death, doesn’t make a difference to me, old
man,” Rennie mocked.
scooted over toward the window, ignoring the pain in
his shoulder and the huge stain of red that marked the
wall where he had just been. He’d been shot before
and knew that the current wound in his shoulder wasn’t
good. In fact, he knew Rennie was right and that if
he kept losing blood at this rate, he’d either
pass out or bleed to death, neither of which boded well
for his chances of survival.
over the edge of the windowsill, Bobby spotted Rennie
standing defiantly in what passed for the front yard
of his place. Dressed in black leather pants and an
equally dark leather jacket, he knew the clothing was
more for effect than appropriate for the weather. She
looked hot, in more ways than one, but Bobby knew that
underneath the hard body was an equally hard soul.
much as Bobby Singer didn’t care for hurting women,
somehow Rennie Lofton no longer fit in that category
for him. Taking careful aim with the shotgun, he fired
at her, glass shattering as the spray of the pellets
ruptured it on the way out.
jerked backwards as some of the pellets struck her.
While none of them were lethal, they still stung nonetheless
catching her in the upper chest and peppering her neck.
She screamed in anger, her hand flying up to her throat.
sonofabitch!” she shouted, whirling around to
take cover behind her black Yukon.
you bleeding, Rennie?” Bobby called out from the
house. “Is it easy to get blood out of leather?”
smiled as he imagined her fuming in anger, knowing he
was correct when she capped off several rounds in his
general direction. Bobby heard her yelling orders to
the other hunters that had surrounded his home and from
his vantage he could see them closing in.
gonna die, Singer. I’m gonna have these men drag
you out here and I’m gonna stomp on your skull
until there’s not enough left of you for anyone
to identify,” Rennie hissed. “You’re
gonna pay for betraying the cause and protecting the
the cause? Is that what this is all about? You people
are still going after John and his boys? You really
are insane, Rennie. John Winchester and his sons are
fighting on our side, always have been. You simple fools
are just too blind and dumb to see that.”
the blind one, Bobby, helping those Winchesters. One’s
a freak and the other is a demon’s pawn. You’ve
lost your edge and its time for retirement,” the
small huntress yelled.
“Bring it on, better men than you have tried,”
he shouted back, punctuating the statement with two
more rounds from the shotgun.
volley of return fire answered and Bobby ducked down
as more of his home was ventilated. He considered that
things weren’t looking too optimistic at the moment
and even considered calling for help. The only problem
was who to call, and really, by the time anyone would
get there, he’d surely be dead. At the very least,
he thought he should warn John and the boys. But as
he moved to reach for the phone, there was a loud crash
from the rear of the house.
struggled to his feet, knowing that the hunters had
grown tired of waiting on the outside and had finally
launched their assault. He saw the shadow of movement
in the kitchen and readied himself around the edge of
as he was about to swing around into the room, another
loud crash sounded from the front. He spun to see the
grenade land on the hardwood floor and roll underneath
his cluttered desk.
toward the kitchen, firing the shotgun repeatedly as
he moved, the house behind Bobby exploded violently.
Wood, glass, paper, a lifetime of research, a life’s
worth of blood blown outward in a fiery blast.
Road leading to Bobby’s
fumed silently in the passenger side of the Impala.
While Dean could at least hide away in the solitude
of driving, Sam was left with nothing other than his
own mind to keep him occupied.
really did understand that Dean was doing the right
thing. It was just that the right thing didn’t
feel very right at the moment. Not that he
could ever be accused of excessive displays of emotion
when it came to his relationship with his dad, but Sam
hated the feeling of helplessness, hated that they only
knew that their dad was being held captive, was probably
hurt, and they weren’t doing anything to rectify
While Dean continued to stare out the windshield, his
gaze fixed on the road ahead of him, his hands clenching
the steering wheel as if he could snap some imaginary
foe’s neck, Sam in turn focused his frustration
in the steady thump of his foot as his entire right
leg bounced nervously.
knew the worried movement was grating on Dean, could
see the occasional glance of Dean’s eyes his way,
the huff of air when Dean knew Sam was watching him.
Sam just didn’t care. He, not unlike his older
brother, needed to vent his anger, needed to strike
out, and unfortunately, confined to interior of the
old Chevy, the siblings had no other focus for their
emotions than each other.
if you don’t stop with the hyperactive leg thing,
I’m either gonna tranquilize you or yank the damn
thing off and beat you with it,” Dean finally
'cause not like you clenching your jaw over there isn’t
just as annoying. Really, Dean, I could tolerate listening
to friggin’ Nugent rather than listen to you grind
your teeth or hear your knuckles pop while you strangle
the steering wheel for the next hundred miles,”
Sam snapped back.
waited for his brother to say something equally hurtful
back, but when Dean remained silent, Sam knew that his
older brother was absorbed in God only knew what sort
of thoughts about their dad and really didn’t
need any more added pressure to the mounting stress
he was already under.
just short of apologizing, Sam dialed the number to
Bobby’s once again. He waited for the same unanswered
ringing that had greeted him the last few times he had
dialed. Instead, Sam found his right leg beginning to
bounce even faster as this time, Bobby Singer's phone
line was completely out of service.
the phone onto the dash, he ran a nervous hand through
unruly brown hair. Trying to contain his worry, he knew
it was too late when Dean looked at him, hazel eyes
flashing with concern.
is it?” he demanded.
line to Bobby’s is dead,” Sam answered simply.
When Dean didn’t answer, Sam added. “How
far out are we?”
hour,” Dean replied in monotone, his foot pressing
on the accelerator as his hands gripped the wheel even
tighter, knuckles turning from red to white.
do you think…”
Dean cut him off.
wanted to press for more conversation, needing in some
sadistic way to hear Dean verbalize the fear that he
knew was eating away at both their minds. But Sam also
knew his brother too well, knew that Dean’s method
for dealing was silent introspection and internalization
of every damn emotion that the elder Winchester remotely
perceived as a sign of weakness.
Sammy. We are not gonna have the What if conversation,”
Dean quickly intercepted. “Bobby’s fine,
Dad’s alive and we’re gonna get him back.
That’s the only way we need to think right now.”
I was only going to say, that I trust you. I’m
behind you one hundred percent. Whatever’s happening,
whether it is Haris, or… well, whatever, I know
you’ll do what’s right.”
swallowed hard and Sam could see the hitch of his breath
before he spoke.
I… I don’t always know what I’m doing.
And I’m sorry that sometimes I kinda boss you
around instead of asking your opinion. The truth is…
I, well I don’t know what to do next. I don’t
know where dad is or what has him. But if it is Haris,
no way am I gonna let that yellow-eyed bastard anywhere
near you. And that I do know for sure,” Dean stated,
casting a glance over to Sam, his eyes suddenly more
hardened and serious than his younger brother had seen
them in recent weeks.
nodded, watching as Dean turned his attention back to
the road. He knew what that little glimpse into his
brother’s head had cost Dean, knew that he would
have rather gone ten rounds with a Hell Hound than to
have admitted what he just had to Sam.
Dean,” Sam softly offered.
continued on in mutual silence until the familiar scenery
of the salvage yard rose on the horizon. Sam breathed
a sigh of relief, glad that Bobby’s place was
finally within sight, but just as quickly it turned
into a gasp.
the hell?” Dean shouted, as Sam sat up straighter
in the seat.
large plume of thick black smoke rose from amid the
wall of old automobiles. Sam braced himself, one hand
reaching out to the dashboard as Dean slammed on the
gas. Dust and rocks flew out from the tires as the Impala
fish-tailed briefly before Dean righted the car on the
stop was as violent as the start, the cloud of dust
shrouding the black Chevy as it came to a sudden halt
in front of the still smoldering remnants of Bobby Singer’s
home. Both brothers tore from the car only to be gagged
by the choking smoke that clung to the smoldering ruins
like the ethereal form of some demon settling over the
site to observe its handiwork.
the air around his face, Sam picked his way to where
the front of the house had once been. Beyond him, Dean
was already searching out the property, desperately
hoping to find their friend somewhere other than among
the destroyed structure.
Dean’s voice shouted out towards the garage and
called out several more times but received no answer.
Turning back towards Sam, he shrugged.
he wasn’t here. Maybe he took off into the woods
or somewhere safe,” Dean suggested, still frantically
Sam called out solemnly. “Dean, come here.”
knelt down in the rubble of the old house, one hand
covering his mouth as he lifted a charred board from
the ground. Dean was by his side immediately, his hands
tearing into other pieces of burnt debris.
the final board came free, Dean shook his head and turned
away. He flung the piece of wood remaining in his hand
with every ounce of energy he possessed, screaming out
a long “NO!” as he did so.
flinched as his brother raged. Unable to lift his eyes
from the sight before him, all he could do was stare
at the charred human remains that lay exposed in the
bright afternoon sun.
Bobby,” Sam cried, as his eyes landed on the scorched
remains of a baseball cap sticking out from the rubble
like a makeshift tombstone.
the episode here