The Winchester trail part 2
He doesn't really know how it happens.
One moment, the men are talking about what to do with Winchester. Edgar suggests they kill him on the spot, but the marshal answers that the whole town will be a ghost one come next morning if they do this. They're back to no plan until Mr. Novak approaches the outlaw.
"Twenty-two robberies," he accuses him of. "Thousands of dollars lost, not mentioning the lost time. This man has to answer for his crimes and stand in front of a court of law."
"And here I thought you arrested me because of the men I killed…" Winchester remarks, the coolest of them all despite the handcuffs and the real predicament he's in.
"The Consortium will be happy to pay for taking this man to prison, Marshal," Mr. Novak goes on, ignoring Winchester's jibe. "I just need some men to escort him."
And that's how in the next moment Sam finds himself drafted to accompany the outlaw on the way to this next accommodation after he stupidly intervened to say he was best shot in his regiment and he'll come for two hundred dollars. Mr. Novak only questions him about which side he fought for, the South or the North, and agrees with Sam's price when he gets the answer he wants - Sam fought for the Union.
Mr. Henriksen invites himself, despite everyone's reservations in regard to his wound. Mr. Novak doesn't take no for an answer when he says that if the Pinkerton comes, the doc will have to come along. Doc Garth startles, scared by the idea, but Sam knows him well enough to detect the excitement right behind the fear.
Last one to join is Edgar, loaned by Dick Roman for no good reason Sam can fathom. The man will probably try to claim he was the one doing the arrest in case there's a reward. Sam is not about to let him do that.
Mr. Novak refuses to be thanked for hiring Sam before the job is done and they're all safe. Sam just hopes he will still be here to try again and get the money.
The marshal has a plan that might help in this endeavor. First, they get the supply they're gonna need, and then they're heading to Sam's ranch. Winchester is placed in a carriage that Edgar secures on both sides with chains, in case the outlaw manages to get out of his handcuffs and is foolish enough to jump. Sam can't blame Edgar on that one ; the many rumors going on about the thief make them all wary of him, double-checking the cuffs at any opportunity.
As the carriage nears Sam's house, the left back wheel falls into a huge pothole and stops any forward motion. Sam turns his horse back to get a look at the damage - it's not good, the wheel threatens to disengage from the axletree if the horses move too fast, so they have to put it back in place before they go on, all this after they lift the carriage enough to pull it out of the hole.
They can't do this with Winchester's weight adding to the problem, so Cesar and Edgar open one of the doors and get him out.
"Good driving, marshal !" Winchester teases when he sets foot on the ground.
He looks surprised but doesn't react when Cesar takes his hat off and replaces it with his own, only to put Winchester's on his own head. Same thing with their coat while they're still hidden behind the coach, as Sam and Mr. Novak push with all their strength on the log Sam has fetched to unstuck the wheel. Once Winchester is ready, Jesse Cuevas drives the momentarily three-wheeled carriage out of the hole. They make sure the fourth wheel is in good enough condition, and then Cesar gets into the coach while Winchester is dragged away towards Sam's house to be hidden from any spying eye.
"Remind me never to play poker with you guys," Winchester salutes their little trick with good humor.
The marshal gets the horses to go on, riding fast and far from Sam's ranch. If Adam Milligan is here to watch for his brother, as they're all convinced he is, then hopefully this deception will gain them the lead they need to make it to the train in time.
No one really wants to imagine what will happen if Milligan rejoins the marshal and his deputy to find out he's been played in his turn.
"Will they be safe ?" Sinclair's man worries.
He's not a bad man, Dean can attest to that. He believes in justice enough to want him judged and condemned, not hanged high and low at the first available tree. Still naïve enough not to apprehend the true nature of the marshal and his deputy's relationship. All of which probably means that he's not been tainted yet by Sinclair's poisonous ideas. Maybe Dean has a shot at turning him before the end of their little trip.
"They're fast," Victor states as if trying to convince himself, "they'll get to the fort by dawn. Milligan has to get his men first, if they're still around, and they can't do much against the cavalry."
Dean would be amused by such unreasonable confidence if he didn't care more for the marshal and his lover. These men did right by him too, they don't deserve to get killed for it. He needs to get in touch with Adam, but with no way to do so right now, he instead lets Sam take him to the house where a beautiful woman waits for them on the threshold.
"Ma'am," he salutes as he passes by her, tipping his hat as he can with his bound hands. "Pleasure to meet you."
She doesn't respond, nor does she make any move towards her husband. He understands she's pretty pissed to see her house, half-destroyed the previous night, now invaded by men she never invited, including the very one responsible for its poor state.
As he enters the living room, Dean finds Victor already seated by the table.
"Victor. I hoped you would have been dead by now."
"Don't make me laugh, Winchester. I'll bury you all, and you know it."
Sam pushes him to sit not too gently. Hours tick-tock with the sound of Dean's pocket watch and the buzz of his boredom. He's not allowed to go back out until he informs Sam that he needs to take care of business.
They pass next to the doc and Edgar on their way to the field behind the barn.
"You proud of yourself ?" Doc Garth is asking Roman's henchman with a pointed look to the part of the house that has burned down.
"Just doing my job," Edgar downplays his answer, but his smile reveals just how much he enjoyed it.
Dean can't wait to make him see the error of his ways.
"Wanna watch ?" he offers, unbuttoning his trousers when they get to the outhouse as Sam keeps the door open and fails to give him space.
Sam blushes hard, even in the falling light, and takes two steps back.
"Don't do anything stupid !"
"I wouldn't dream of it," Dean assures him.
He certainly didn't let those guys catch him to disappear before he's got time to make an informed decision.
Sure that Sam doesn't watch and no one in the house can't get a view of their whereabouts, Dean gets out as soon as he's done pissing. He fakes stumbling around and swiftly bends to grab a small rock he thinks will permit him to talk with Adam. Now he's just got to wait for the right time and opportunity.
He turns to find that Sam has taken advantage of the situation to relieve himself too against a tree.
"Can I watch ?" he asks innocently.
"Stop goading me, you pervert."
Dean doesn't say anything more, but the smile he's sporting as they walk back inside is as much about Sam's reaction that took him back to his beloved past with his lost little brother than the glimpse he got of his very nice cock and the certainty - the delusion ? - that Sam didn't tuck himself back in as quickly as he could have to escape Dean's coveting eyes.
Dinner is an interesting parenthesis in time, the perfect opportunity to learn more about Sam who is trying to keep it as formal and unfriendly as possible with Dean but can't prevent other people from talking. He can't help smiling either, whenever his son shows any little bit of admiration and love towards his father.
Madison is curious about Dean. He's not rich by any means, but he looks the part enough compared to them that she certainly wonders what it'd be like to live his life. She projects the appearance of a simple woman and he thinks she's genuinely afraid about Sam's plan. He heard her earlier trying to talk him out of it, arguing that nobody would think less of Sam for renouncing. Sam's answer that no one could think less of him had probably hurt her as much as Dean. Was it the result of being abandoned at such an early age ? The belief that you can do no good, won't ever be enough, especially for the ones you love. Dean's been familiar with these feelings for a long while and he hates to think that Sam has been through the same doubts and self-hatred, albeit for very different reasons.
Madison's cooking is good, and it's been so long since Dean ate in a true home. His good manners leave a lot to be desired - his mom wasn't around long enough to teach him to behave in society and the company he keeps, mostly men, was never incentive to learn better. They earn him a hard stare from everyone else around the table when he digs in with enthusiasm. Listening to the grace doesn't slow down his appetite, nor Junior's bragging about his father's abilities with a shotgun.
"He could kill you if he had to."
"I'm sure he's very good," Dean admits, "but killing a man is hard. Not for Victor, of course, who's able to kill men, women and children alike."
"They all deserved it," Henriksen replies with the assurance of a man who sleeps without nightmares at night.
"Of course they did. They were worth enough money for you to lose time over them. Miners, Indians, strikers… you name 'em, Victor killed 'em."
"Don't try to look like you're innocent, Winchester. Nobody's innocent here. I'm sure even Wesson had to kill during the war."
Dean turns his attention back to Sam, glad for the interruption.
"Is that how you got the limp, Sam ? Where did you fight ?"
"Second company sharpshooters out of Lynnfield, Massachusetts," Junior announces proudly, "defending the US Capitol in the district of Columbia."
It's kind of cute the way Junior beams when he thinks of his father's exploits in the army. In Sam's place, Dean wouldn't stop telling him about it, just to see the light in his eyes when he imagines his father being all heroic, but Sam looks both indulgent and embarrassed.
"Massachusetts ? I thought I heard a trace of Boston accent in your voice, Madison. Is that where you're from ?"
"Not exactly, Mr. Winchester," she says, her tone closing the topic for good.
"What about you, Sam ?"
"Dad doesn't know where he's from. He was left at an orphanage by his old man and he doesn't remember much before that."
Dean fights to keep the emotion off his face and out of his voice.
"Really ? What kind of despicable man can do this to his own son ? I wish he'd see the strong, good man you've become to take the measure of his own smallness."
He loved his father, he sure did. For a long while, Dad was the hero other kids could only dream of. But abandoning Sam had been the one mistake Dean couldn't forgive. In this moment, it all comes back to him and he wants to resume the fight that finally had them going their separate ways.
"So what happened to your foot ?" Dean takes the attention away from Sam's awkwardness - there will be time to tease his little brother about many things if they become close again, but right now he needs to get on Sam's good side - and he really wants to know the story. "Did a dragon steal it ?"
Even Sam smiles, but then two fire shots breaks the silence and everyone but Dean runs outside to see what's happening.
This is the opportunity he was waiting for.
First, he steals the fork that has been laying on the table, half hidden under the cloth protecting the bread, and pushes it inside his sleeve. You can never have too many weapons.
Then, because of his still attached hands, he squirms to get the rock he picked up earlier and stored in his pocket. He uses his other fork - he hasn't been allowed a knife, of course - to open a small cut in his arm and get blood. He pronounces the ritual words and presses the rock on his wrist, in the blood. And he feels the electric-like sensation that signals the bond has been opened and Adam is listening.
"I'm coming," Adam shouts, "we're all coming !"
The link is feeble and it will probably end soon, so Dean cuts to the chase.
"No killing the marshal or the nice deputy, Adam, you hear me ?"
"I hear you."
His answer is full of resentment. Adam hates it when Dean talks him down like he would some unreasonable kid, and it's been worse since their old man bought the farm and Dean became the one in charge. Even seasoned Men of Letters listen to Dean's expertise and have done so for a long time, while they see the kid exactly like that : a kid.
That's all they have time to say before the company gets back in and Dean understands through their good-natured jibes that it was nothing more than coyotes or foxes scaring the good Doc Garth into shooting them. Victor is watching Dean with a wariness getting more obvious by the minute as Dean watches him back like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.
"Who were you talking to ?" he demands.
"Nobody, just praying."
Of course no one believes him, but no one knows about the Sprach either, the useful means of communication taught to the German chapter of the Men of Letters by a monster ready to do anything and betray anyone to save his life. Which hadn't worked that well, if memory serves, but the Men of Letters created and adapted a useful toy out of it, and nobody out of their ranks can imagine that they have a way to communicate over distance. Maybe it's not always completely reliable - it was never designed to work with human blood, and the right kind of stone is often difficult to find, not to mention that the bond is established a lot more easily if you're emotionally close to the person you wish to talk to - but it has saved more than one hunter's life and Dean has learned to appreciate the gift for what it is.
The signal to leave is given soon after and Dean still doesn't know where they're going.
"Where are we taking this party ?" he asks, jovial.
"That's none of your damn business !" Edgar retorts.
But Victor is more than happy to tell him about his bleak future.
"We're traveling to Contention, where we will put you in the 3:10 train to Yuma the day after tomorrow. I see that noose in your future getting tighter and tighter."
"You shouldn't have told him that !" Edgar whines.
"Don't worry," Dean falsely comfort him, "that way I'll know where to meet you, should we ever get separated."
Edgar makes him pay for that slight the very next minute when Dean tries to get to his horse.
"That's not gonna happen, Winchester. This one's mine now."
Dean makes a quick and discreet sign to Impala to let him know it's okay, that he has to let the man ride him for the time being. And he smiles, thinking Edgar wouldn't be so eager to get on his horse if he had any idea of the danger he's in now.
Two hours after his father's departure and his mother is deeply asleep, Junior sneaks off. He's got his Colt, matches and water, some bread and cheese, his dad's old and battered compass, and the need to prove himself.
He wants so desperately to believe in his father, but the man has thrown in the towel a long time ago and Sam doubts he can see to the end of this mission. He limps his way through life, both literally and figuratively. And Junior can't stand it anymore. He has to be there, if only to make sure his father won't let himself be killed in some heroic and stupid gesture.
If Dad can't be the man of the family anymore, then he'll take on the mantle and show them all what Samuel Wesson, Junior, is made of. He'll take Dean Winchester to that freaking train, even if he likes the man. The weird phenomenon he witnessed this morning, the thick black smoke that guy kind of vomited before it flew right into a box, unlike any other smoke Junior has ever seen, leads him to think there's more to the outlaw than he's willing to let on, and Junior is pretty sure his dad is just as intrigued by him, if not more, and vice versa. He hopes it will be enough for his father to make sure to stay alive.
If not, Junior will have to make sure of it.
They haven't covered much distance before Sam insists that they stop and sleep for a while when he sees how tired Mr. Novak and the Doc look. These are not men used to hard labor. Mr. Henriksen's dark skin badly hides his exhaustion and pain, and then the horses need the rest too.
They talk for a moment, the two learned men quickly dozing off, before Winchester says he needs his private minute to commune with nature. Without thinking, even after the huge embarrassment before dinner, Sam stands up and leads him away.
"Sure you still don't want to uncuff me ?"
"Don't bother with the charm, Winchester. It won't work."
"Really ? So I shouldn't even hope you'll hold it for me at least once before we get to Yuma ?"
Sam has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the smile from invading his whole face.
"You're a terrible flirt," he accuses him. "How you get laid so often with that kind of wit is beyond me !"
Sam ignores his memories of the last time they were in that situation and sets to relieve himself too, not surprised when he catches Winchester's eyes on him once more. Only his violent blush is better hidden by the night.
Sam closes his eyes as if to delete the image of the outlaw's evident interest in his body. When he opens them again, Winchester has disappeared.
Sam panics for a few seconds, forgetting to dress again while he runs around like a headless chicken. The fear that he managed to lose his last chance to reimburse Roman weights a ton on his stomach. He stumbles when a hand grips his coat's sleeve hard and forces him to kneel down. Winchester's second hand close over his mouth to keep him quiet and stays there. Time seems to stop, and Sam understands the outlaw is listening to something Sam never even heard.
A huge blow on his back sends him down to the ground while Winchester grabs his shotgun and shoots. Sam's pretty sure Dean just saved his life, whoever the enemy he didn't see might be. But he feels sluggish, and Winchester would be far, out of reach in a second, if he didn't drag Sam with him back to the camp.
There's another attack going on there, a bigger one. Mr. Henriksen and Edgar are putting up a hell of a fight, and even the doc and the very proper Mr. Novak fight like devils to stay alive. Their attackers are strange creatures, the likes of which Sam has never seen. They stand on two legs and use their arms and hands with the same dexterity as a man, but here the resemblance stops. The rest of their body reminds him more of a dog. A very big, very tall, very powerful dog. They have pointy ears and a snarling snout, but the bit that strikes him the most is the tail they're sporting. Long and thick, like foxes, but not the cute kind.
These foxes, for lack of a better word, snap their jaws at them and try to bite. Their claws are just as dangerous as their teeth, and they seem to be immune to the bullets that keep raining down on them. Maybe their fur is too thick to be penetrated.
Suddenly Sam feels himself panicking again. He can't believe his eyes, but here, in the middle of the worst battle he's ever seen, stands his son, armed with a gun and shooting at the wild beasts as fast as he can. Sam is more terrified than ever, certain that they won't make it and that Junior is going to die, too.
Until Dean saves the day once again. Sam lost track of him in the battle and he's glad to see their prisoner didn't use this opportunity to escape, preferring to help them. And it's clear he's the only one who knows what he's doing.
The shooters only provided distraction for their attackers. One by one, the weird animals fall down to the ground, inert, as soon as Winchester's stabbed them. There were seven of them, all taller and bulkier than Sam. Without Dean Winchester, the battle would have been lost before it had even begun.
Sam feels a little bad for keeping him chained after what he did for them, but then he remembers that this man is a killer who could just as easily stab all of them in their sleep and he's not about to put his son in danger.
"Listen to me," Winchester throws around in a voice that has everyone including Sam look at him and wait for orders. "These animals' bites are contagious. We need to check each other for bloody marks of claws or teeth. Left untreated, this could lead to a severe condition."
"What exactly were those beasts anyway ?" Mr. Henriksen tempers Dean's haste.
"Why, Victor, werewolves of course."
Everyone laughs, a tad nervous, and looks at the others with some trepidation.
"Mr. Winchester is right," the doc says. "Whatever kind of animal this might be, bites and scratches can be dangerous if infected. We should take the time to check if anyone's been even slightly wounded."
"Good !" Dean concludes. "Victor and Edgar, you two are so suited to each other, why don't you play together ? Sam, you take care of your son. Jimmy, will you do me the honor of this dance ?"
Mr. Novak blanches and stammers, like a virgin not so ready for her sacrifice, and Sam doesn't like this plan one bit.
"What about the doc ?" Sam asks. "He and Mr. Novak can check each other. You're my prisoner, Mr. Winchester, I'm not letting you out of my sight."
Sam would like to know how to erase the smirk on Winchester's face. There's nothing odd in his idea. Whatever lewd suggestion Winchester might have made twice already, Sam's not interested.
It's not any more easy to fool himself than it was with Winchester. Seeing so much bare flesh gets to his weary head, and it's worse when it's time for him to undress in his turn. He can tell himself as much as he wants that it would be extremely untoward to disrobe entirely in front of his son ; a part of him, bigger by the minute, knows he wants to bare himself for Winchester and he can't help the thrill of arousal spinning through him, nor does he asks Dean to take his hands off when the outlaw does what he knows best and steals a few lingering touches of a body that had previously belonged only to one woman.
Sam closes his eyes and enjoys the caresses, feels that he can understand Madison better now, incapable to resist the lure of a gorgeous, passionate lover who shows how much they want you. Madison and him, they haven't had sex for so long, strangers living under the same roof. Sam thought for sure he had lost any desire since Jake's death, but here it is again, deep in his guts, and Sam feels alive for the first time in a long while.
There's a weird noise going on next to Sam, something he can't recognize but makes him want to tell the dog to stop it already !
Then he remembers he's not at home but on a dangerous mission in which everything that can't be explained right away is potentially dangerous and he mostly wakes up. He needs only turning his head to the right to be back entirely.
Winchester is sitting astride Edgar, the silver knife Sam was sure he had confiscated after the werewolves were all dispatched - where Dean hid it in the first place, no one had a clue ! - gripped tight in his cuffed hands as he slashes the other man again and again.
Sam scrambles up, ready to push Winchester away, before he realizes what Mr. Henriksen and the other men have seen before him and kept them back.
Edgar is not really Edgar anymore. His arms and hands have elongated and what Sam can see of them is now covered in thick dark fur, just like his face. But his eyes are still just the same, full of contempt and hatred for anyone else. He fights against Dean despite the many slices of the knife he's already sustained, trying to dislodge his arms that the outlaw has blocked under his own legs with all his weight. The creature he is becoming, more and more with each second, is clearly strong and it's got a will to live matching Dean's determination to kill it.
Sam's eyes go from Dean's hands to Edgar's, afraid that the werewolf will be able to draw blood on Dean in his turn, thus signing his own death warrant. Edgar twists and does his best to escape Winchester's hold but it's no use.
"And that one's for taking Impala," Winchester concludes with a last hit of his knife right into the mercenary's heart.
He's bloody and disheveled, and all Sam feels is fear but also relief that Dean was able to see easily into Edgar's fake humanity and kill him before he had time to harm anyone else.
The doc and Mr. Novak seem to wake up from their trance and begin to ask questions right away about what happened, both awed and cowed. Mr. Henriksen comes and takes the knife from Dean's hands, shooting a dark look at Sam for allowing it to be stolen in the first place, even though it just saved their lives. Sam ignores him, tired of the man's constant judging attitude, and wraps a weary arm around Junior's shoulders who came and stood by his side, armed and ready, as soon as he woke up too. Sam guesses they must sport matching expressions, half-horrified, half-thank-God-we're-alive !
It's quickly becoming somewhat of a habit in Winchester's company.
As dawn lights up the valley, Adam looks down to see the coach riding at full speed, taking his brother to prison.
He should wait for his men whom he knows are riding fast, miles behind him, since he warned them with the Sprach of Dean's abduction, but he simply can't. He has to get to Dean, show him that he can count on him, the best brother a man might dream of. And then maybe Dean will look at him the way he's been dreaming about forever.
It takes him less than half an hour to catch up with the carriage.
Dean said not to kill.
Adam shoots the damn marshal in the shoulder. A bit close to the neck perhaps, but as good a shooter as Adam is, trained by his brother since he was twelve, the moves of his horse and the jolts of the road explain his clumsiness.
The marshal falls down to the ground as a voice from inside the coach yells "Jesse !", and this is not Dean's voice.
Adam hopes the fall killed the driver. Dean didn't say the man shouldn't break his neck on the way down.
The horses slow down and quickly stop when no one's left to stir them. Adam dismounts and walks to the carriage where the deputy keeps screaming to get his brother to wake up, to move, something, anything to let him know he's still alive.
Cesar blanches as he recognizes in his attacker the same man who warned them the previous day about the coach being robbed.
"Where's Dean Winchester ?" Adam asks and fires his gun at the same time in the marshal's direction, sure that the threat to his brother will have the deputy talking faster than one to himself.
"I don't know…" the deputy begins.
Adam turns and shoots one inch away from the unconscious marshal's head.
"Stop it !" the deputy screams as Adam shoots another bullet even closer to Cuevas' head. "You're too late. They're riding to Contention, they're gonna put him on the 3:10 train to Yuma, and there's nothing you can do about it, Wesson and Henriksen will see to it. Killing us won't give you your brother back."
Dean said not to kill. He didn’t say anything about harming, right ?
Adam definitely needs to let go of some of his frustration, the feeling that Dean is slipping through his fingers, avoiding him. More interested in some backwater, failing, small-time rancher - Adam's not stupid, he saw the way Dean looked at the guy - rather than his own brother who's done nothing but live and breathe for him ever since the day they met and Dean saved him from starvation after he was left alone by his mother's untimely and very gruesome death.
Adam aims and shoots before Cesar has time to realize what's happening. He's pretty sure at least three of his bullets meet flesh and bones, but the deputy is still alive when Adam races back to Wesson's farm, even if he's trapped inside the driver-less coach with no way to get help.
Sam's reacting to Dean's uneasiness as they ride through the pass. The place is eerily silent, even the horses' hooves seem to be made of rubber on the red dirt. They've seen some strange markings when they got to the plateau that Dean interpreted to be a warning to not trespass on pain of death, or worse (which left them all puzzled, save for Dean, of course). But Mr. Henriksen insisted that this was the shorter road and the only way to avoid Winchester's men at all, as if they would be too scared to follow.
Sam's seen the smirk on Winchester's face, though, and he's sure they will follow their boss into hell if they have to. Their only chance is to be faster and get to Contention quick as they can. They're all tired after the night was cut short by Edgar, and it's fear that keeps them going.
But they can't gallop most of the time. They have to trade speed for sure footing as the horses get farther into the pass and ride along a deep ravine.
Victor Henriksen has taken the front, still sitting straight in his saddle despite his wound, and Sam is at the back, Junior close to him and each of them sure they protect the other. Doc Garth and Mr. Novak have spontaneously taken to flank Winchester's sides, when the path is large enough, in order to grill him for answers about what they've witnessed during the night. And his answers are chilling.
"I only know of bad werewolves," Winchester says. "Humans turned wild beasts who try either to turn other humans to join them when they need to expand their pack, or to exterminate the threat we pose to them. Some legends refer to peaceful werewolves, but I always thought them to be shapeshifters rather than wolves."
"Shapeshifters ?" the doc prods, eyes wide and worried.
"Another species able to take on a human appearance, and to change it at will, provided they've touched said human once. Tricky little buggers, but I guess most of them live peacefully among us without ever being detected, which is why I think they can be good. Maybe."
He doesn't seem that confident, and Sam wishes he could just dismiss this talk as the delirium of a crazy man. That Junior didn't hear any of it and could continue to grow up and live in a world where supernatural beasts are the stuff of scary stories, passed around a fire camp to enjoy the thrill of fright while nothing worse than a coyote might actually be lurking around.
"My God !" Mr. Novak cusses. "How many of those monsters have you come close to ?"
"Too many to count, and then I didn't fight them all. My father encountered much more than I did, and it cost him his life."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Thank you, Jimmy. My father had an obsession, and no one was really surprised that it got him killed."
"Can I ask how he died, or is it still too fresh a memory to share ?"
Without any reason Sam can fathom, Winchester briefly turns towards him before he answers.
"He had been hunting the demon…"
"A demon ?!" Mr. Novak repeats.
Everyone here is aware of Mr. Novak's profound faith. He never forgets to say his prayers several times a day - as he rides, before he sleeps - so it makes sense to see the man so riled up by the knowledge of the existence of the demons he probably considered as lore rather than truth up to this day.
"You said he had been hunting a demon ?" Junior encourages Winchester to go on, just as fascinated as Sam.
"The demon that killed my mother years before, when my brother and I were still little kids."
"He found it ?" Sam can't help asking.
"He did, after years of careful research and obstinate wandering. He did, and the demon killed him."
There's more to the story, Sam would bet money on it, but Dean chooses this moment to shut off the topic and turn to Mr. Henriksen to tease him in the nasty way they both seem to enjoy so much, like they're each other's personal nemesis. Mr. Henriksen responds in kind, and soon everyone has forgotten about the demons and werewolves, entertained by the insults flying left and right.
It becomes increasingly unclear who the bad guy really is in their little outfit.
Dean doesn't know what possessed him to share such a hurtful part of his life story with all those people, especially with Victor right before him. It just amuses him to hear himself talking about Dad's obsession, when his own obsession with his brother might get him killed all the same. Dad would have had his hide for letting himself be taken voluntarily by someone like the bounty hunter Dean finds himself wary of a little more with each passing minute.
But then, Dad would have probably decided to get rid of him a long time ago. And Dean is closing on the same conclusion.
There's something terribly wrong with the guy, even more so than that time he saw him with his army buddies shoot a whole Indian camp and then set fire to the survivors assembled in a tipi. Dean can't say what exactly is troubling him, but he knows he has to be ready for anything and everything. He was lucky enough to manage to get to the silver knife hidden inside Impala's saddle - and that his horse is so attuned to him that he knew when to come near his master and how to present himself so Dean wouldn't lose precious seconds that Edgar could have used to harm or kill Sam in his sleep.
He only knows he's gonna have to keep watch again tonight, and that's why he accepts the strong coffee cup the doc offers to him at the end of their meager supper by the fire.
Junior has pestered him throughout the whole meal about supernatural monsters as well as his own adventures and he's visibly in awe of his exploits.
"Is it true that last year you had a tunnel imploding, with the miners still inside, so that you could get away with the golden ore they had extracted ?"
"That's a lie. I had the whole mountain imploding."
Junior snorts but everyone else looks filled with dismay.
"The miners were not human," Dean adds to make them feel better, "and they were not mining for gold."
"What else then ?" Junior wonders.
"They were creating the tunnels to host the growing family of a Spunta."
"What's a Spunta ?"
"Some kind of beetle. A very nasty, very big kind of beetle. Who likes to prey on big animals, men being one of them of course."
"How did you learn all this ?"
"I'm a hunter. That's what we do. My dad trained me since I was a little kid. I've had many years and many other hunters to teach me what I needed to know to survive."
"Weren't you afraid ?"
"I was scared stiff ! But then the only way to get the upper hand is to know how to kill a monster. You'd never have been able to get rid of the werewolves without a silver knife."
"And how fortunate you got one to kill Edgar," Victor mocks him.
"What do you mean ?" Jimmy asks.
Henriksen takes the time to look them all in the eyes to make his words more important.
"I mean that this man is a killer, and you're all listening to his old-wives tales like he's teaching you the word of God. Wake up ! He's only trying to lure you, and he'll kill you all next chance he gets."
"We did see those creatures, Mr. Henriksen," the doc insists. "We shot them, to no effect. And Edgar was changing into one of them when Mr. Winchester killed him."
"One or two freaks of nature do not make giant beetles a true fact. And I guarantee you that each of us will die if stabbed in the heart with a silver knife."
Dean decides it's more than time to clear things up with the bounty hunter.
"Now be upfront with me for once, Victor. You and Edgar didn't bother to check each other, am I right ?"
"I'm not stupid enough to fall for your fairy tales, Winchester. You might get these poor schmucks to believe you, but you'll never fool me."
"Well, that's too bad," Sam intervenes, "because if we can't trust you, we're gonna leave you here to wait for your friends to come looking for you. Right, Dean ?"
"Absolutely. So what shall it be, Victor ? A small cut or a long wait ?"
There's a smug expression glued to Victor's face as he decides for the cut and rolls one of this sleeves up, an expression that tells Dean he's not afraid of what's he's planning to do. And yet Dean is sure there's something wrong with the man. He's always suspected him to be bad, but he had chalked it up to some very human deviancy. Right now, after spending two days in his company and his sixth sense tingling like mad, Dean's sure there's more to it, and Victor is not a werewolf.
It's probably far worse than that.
There's a special compartment in his canteen, a partition first created in order to store a bit of wine - for impromptu mass, of course - at the request of the rich prelate Dean had cleaned out of the ornate object. Dean owns another flask if he wants to drink alcohol on his long journeys. The canteen serves a far more useful purpose.
Nonchalant and unconcerned, Dean takes it in hand and drinks leisurely, as if to rinse his mouth of the lasting taste of their supper. Then he switches a hidden button at the neck of the canteen to open the hidden partition and throws the holy water at Victor's head.
The scream he's all the proof he needs.
While Victor holds his face in pain as the liquid acts like vitriol on him, the other men stand in alarm and ask in frantic panic what Dean has done.
"He's a demon !" Dean yells to be heard over the commotion.
And then Victor is on him. The fight against a demon isn't fair at the best of times ; handcuffed, it feels like trying to stop a mountain going at you, bashing your head repeatedly on its slope. Still he does his best, trading two-handed blows to Victor's jaw and throat for the ones that land in his stomach and anywhere else on his aching body.
He realizes quickly that sheer brutal force won't ever be enough, not against a formidable warrior like Victor, whoever the demon riding him is. He's so much more than a simple good-looking man, body strong and agile, and Dean tires too fast. It becomes harder and harder to get back up every time he's tossed away like some pathetic rag doll in a storm. Until he can't get up anymore and Victor turns towards Sam. The bullet his brother shoots in his upper chest doesn't kill him any more than the one fired by Adam in his gut did, and Victor keeps walking, arms already raised to grab Sam's gun.
The words come to Dean from a place of desperation. No way is he gonna lose his brother when he's just found him again. He recites the exorcism with little regard as to the pronunciation and it seems he doesn't do that bad because Victor stops, like he's chocking on a collar suddenly tightened at the end of an unforgiving leash. He stops and he grunts, hands scrapping at his neck, but Dean is resolute to end it here and now.
He presses on, speaks faster, ready to see the black demonic smoke get out of the host but Victor's inhabitant is just as stubborn and refuses to give up its place and privilege. It keeps chocking on itself in a bizarre parody of lungs gasping for air when Dean's pretty sure the real Victor is dead and his body doesn't draw breath anymore, moving shell and not much else.
Victor stumbles to the rhythm of Dean's incantation, his steps following a drunken path that leads him right to the precipice. Dean wants to stop him, to force him to evacuate the premises and go back to hell at once, but the demon is still alive and kicking, pushing the body in the only direction it will be able to escape Dean and his murderous words.
Dean can hardly move, and he doesn't dare using his brother or one of the other men to block Victor's retreat, lest they be possessed or pushed down through the void into the valley. Unrestrained, save for his own hands on his neck to keep the demon inside, Victor dances for a few second on the edge before he overcomes Dean's hold and plunges feet first to yet another death.
There's a stunned moment of near silence, when Dean can't quite stop whispering the anti-demonic spell, and then Sam and Junior are by his side, helping him to sit for the doc to take a look at him. Garth palpates his abdomen and Dean wants to tell him to get lost, but the man is trying to help and the fact that he's hurting him is irrelevant right now. He's alive. Sam and Junior too, no one's been possessed.
Good day.
They help him to stand up again and Dean swears enough to oppose the pain that he makes Jimmy blush like a maiden on her wedding day. There's more questions : what was it in his canteen that had Victor reeling that way ? How did Dean know something was wrong with him ? What did he say to Victor to push him to throw himself off into the ravine ?
Dean tries to answer as best he can the anxiety flood ; he gets this is all distressing, overwhelming even, to witness and admit, when your life has been so mundane before and untouched by the supernatural, that there is a whole new level of existence you never imagined or wanted to get a glimpse of. These men's lives have been forever altered. They've learned what lurks not only in the dark of night but also in plain day next to you, masquerading as human. From now on, they will scrutinize their neighbors and friends with suspicious eyes and wonder if maybe…
Dean is so tired, but he has one thing to do before he can rest. He sits by the fire, hands so close that the little hairs on his fingers get singed and Sam comes to him, concerned by his attitude. It's painful, but no more than the bruises left by the hits he just took and he's seen so much worse in his life that the hurt hardly registers.
When his ring takes on a blue color indicating it's ready to work, Dean grabs Sam's closest arm and push his clothes away to get to his brother's wrist. Sam protests but Dean is a man on a mission and he ignores everything to apply the ring against his skin. Hard, deep, five seconds of struggle but Dean doesn't relent and Sam can't take his arm away as long as Dean's grip on him remains so tight.
Sam stumbles upward as soon as Dean releases him. The others have migrated towards them, Junior ready to shoot Dean to free his father.
"What did you do to me ?!" Sam asks as he looks at his unblemished arm, the sting of the spell probably still bothering him.
"Junior, give me your arm !" Dean orders instead of answering.
"What ? No !"
"I said give me your arm. Now !"
"And I said no."
Dean doesn't have time for this so he forces himself up and grips Junior's arm.
"Dad !"
"Let my son go or I'll shoot you right here !"
Dean dismisses the risk and applies his ring against Junior's still so soft skin. The kid hisses but Dean lets him go before it gets really painful. Then he turns to Garth and Jimmy who have strategically retreated behind a boulder. Dean's attempt to get to them is blocked by Sam's carbine.
"Dean, I'm willing to give you a lot of leeway after what we've seen and the fact that you saved all our lives, but if you don't tell us what you're doing I'm going to hit you hard enough to get you down."
Sam's words register at last and Dean feels like he's getting out of this trance. He's not used to be questioned. His orders are obeyed with perfect obedience and he's got a difficult time remembering he has to explain his every act with those people, but for Sam he's got to try and make it work.
"This," he says, raising his fist to show off his ring, "has pretty much tattooed into your deep skin a figure that will prevent demons to possess you. If Victor's body is too badly damaged, his rider might decide to hitch a new ride and we need to be prepared to stop him. Now Jimmy and Garth, get right back here and give me your arms."
The men come to him, Garth first and then Jimmy, still hesitant. There's more interrogations and worries, but they do offer him their forearm and he's able to apply the protection.
When the questions die, Dean lies down to sleep. He's pretty sure Victor's demon isn't one to just give up and he might come back soon to track them, but they have a few hours before he reappears and Dean needs to regain his strength to face him.
Watched by the doc, he falls asleep immediately, Sam laying down by his side.
He wakes up as dawn is still a few hours away, feeling both stiff and well-rested.
The camp is silent. Even the fire has died down, and that's what bothers Dean into sitting up. They had collected enough small wood before supper to last them the whole night, which probably means that the one who should be watching over them right now has fallen asleep, leaving them all open to danger.
His first check is for Sam, who's still sleeping deeply next to him, and then Junior on his other side. Jimmy Novak is on Dean's right side, and Garth is slumped over the log he had chosen to sit on for his watch. God knows how long they've all slept unaware of the mountain's perils.
He hears the footsteps when it's already too late to put up a good fight. A blow to the back of his head sends him down.
And he wakes up again silenced by a tight gag. Hands bound, of course.
Victor is in a pretty bad shape, but yet he's smiling. He sits on the log - the doc has been pushed down to the ground and Dean can only hope he's sleeping, not dead - waiting for Dean to rejoin him.
"You wonder how I managed to get back up here this fast ? I'm in a good mood, so I'll tell you. I didn't roll all the way down into the valley ! No, some conveniently placed overhang stopped my fall. After that, it was just a matter of finding a path to climb."
That's just Dean's luck that Victor escaped death one more time and managed at the same time to surprise him. At least, he had time to protect the others against possession. Even if they're still unnaturally quiet and prove strangely difficult to wake up.
"Now you wonder why they're still asleep, right ?" Victor teases him. "That would be thanks to the special ingredient I added to the plates before I passed them their supper. Don't be jealous, you got some too, and then the antidote. I wanted you pliant and easy to work with for once, but I also needed you to be able to move and ride. Because you see, your little Latin trick only served to gain you a bit of time. I had already decided to take you with me and make you disappear once and for all.
"So I used some slow-working drug, something that would catch you all in your sleep and make the others unable to rouse for a while. Guess it was a little too slow-working, right ?" Victor concludes in good humor, as if the fact that he has indeed caught Dean in the end makes up for any trouble in between.
The demon stands up and comes to help Dean up - God, he's getting too old for that shit, and the drug didn't help any ! - and then pushes him stumbling towards Impala. Victor waits for Dean to be settled on the saddle before he ties his hands to the pommel. Then he keeps Impala tethered to his own horse, taking no chances and making sure Dean won't escape.
As they leave, Dean can't help looking behind him to Sam and the other guys still heavily asleep on the ground. He hates leaving them like that, open to danger, as much as he hates the thought that Sam will believe Dean has left him behind when he wakes up. But at least they're alive.
"Ah, don't worry about them !" Victor orders. "You killed the werewolves, and very soon you'll be entertaining the other creatures lurking around this place. That leaves coyotes and maybe a few snakes, nothing to write home about ! They'll be safe, as long as you follow my orders. Probably safe… Anyway, you have more pressing matters to worry about, things like will you still be alive by this time tomorrow ? How much torture can you withstand before you tell me where your lair is and how to get in ? You see, we have much to do. Let's go !"
Masterpost | Part 3