SLINGSHOT - CHAPTER 2/6
Clang!
Sam jerked halfway to his feet before even realizing he was awake, then gasped when a hard hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back down.
Stiff and aching from sleeping on the ground, he groaned out a protest, but Dean, eyes urgent, slapped a hand over his mouth.
Quiet! He mouthed.
Sam nodded his understanding. Then his eyes widened and he looked around, bewildered. What the - where the hell were they?
They’d gone to sleep on a flat, treeless plain in the early dawn hours.
Now they were in a forest. Deep inside by the look of it. He could barely see the sky through the thickness of the trees overhead.
He looked at Dean, eyes questioning.
Dean shrugged. No clue.
They jerked around at the sound of another loud clang, followed by a series of muffled shouts.
Signaling to Sam to follow, and making damn sure to keep low, Dean wove silently through the trees, moving steadily toward the continuing, sporadic, sounds of battle.
The sounds got closer, more savage. Close behind Dean, Sam started to wonder about the intelligence of deliberately hunting down something that might get them killed.
That thought stopped him in his tracks while he silently laughed his ass off, then he hurried to catch up with his brother, who was gesticulating at him frantically.
Catching up, Sam grimaced an apology, but Dean waved it off and pointed around the ragged oak tree they were crouching behind. “You’re not gonna freaking believe this!” he hissed.
Just a tad apprehensive, Sam peered around the tree.
Holy shit!
Knights!
Knights in armor!
Knights in freaking armor knocking the crap out of each other!
Helmets with visors, plate armor, swords -- the whole deal!
Awesome! Sam mouthed, grinning back at Dean.
He looked around for a film crew, though he knew damned well this was real. The swords were real, the grunts and curses coming out of the combatants were real. Fuck knows the blood on the ground was real.
One of the fighters stumbled and the other, looking a lot less tired and definitely less bloody, knocked his opponent’s sword out of his hand and forced him to his knees with a sword at his throat.
Both figures stilled, staring at each other.
“Do you yield?” The victor’s voice was calm, cool. He didn’t even sound that interested in what the answer might be.
There was silence for a long moment. The answer, when it came, was short and final.
“Never.”
In the next second, Sam gasped as a gout of blood sprayed through the air and the second man was flat on the ground, head neatly separated from his neck.
The winner of the bout spun around, sword rimmed with blood.
“Who goes there?”
Dean glared at Sam, who grimaced an apology.
The knight took a step toward the trees.
“Come out!” He pulled off his helmet, revealing a man of about thirty-five, dark, handsome and clean-shaven.
When he got no reply, the knight slowly lowered the sword to his side. “Come out. I mean you no harm.”
The Winchesters looked at each other and shrugged. Not like they couldn’t outrun this guy if they had to, what with all the armor.
They stepped out from behind the trees into the clearing, Dean positioning himself just a bit in front of Sam.
The knight looked at them curiously. “Who are you, strangers?”
“I’m Dean. This is my brother, Sam. We were traveling through and we, uh - ” Dean shrugged. “We got lost.”
“A curious place to lose oneself.” The stranger stared intently at Dean. “Most who come to this place come to fight.” He nodded to his late opponent. “Or die.”
“Not us,” Sam said, not liking the way the man was scoping Dean out. “We were just - we heard you guys fighting.”
“Why’d you kill him?” Dean asked, curious.
The knight dropped his sword to the ground along with his helm, stretching out his neck and shoulders. “He wished to pass and would not pay the toll,” he replied indifferently.
“Whoa,” Dean said, taken aback. “Harsh.”
“Can we ask -- who are you?” Sam said.
“I am the Black Knight.”
“Nee!” Dean gasped involuntarily. “No way!”
The Black Knight raised his chin and looked at him arrogantly. “I am he. Do you call me liar?”
“Oh no, no,” Dean assured him. “I was just surprised.” He nudged Sam, impressed. “Dude! The Black Knight!”
The knight’s gaze swept up and down Dean’s body, lingering southward.
“I heard,” Sam said tensely. Something was creeping him out about this guy. Something more than the headless corpse on the ground, more than the freaking Black Knight checking out his brother’s nether regions. “We need to get going.”
The knight’s gaze leapt back to Sam and his eyes hardened. “You said you were lost. Where will you go?”
“We’ll find our way,” Sam said.
The knight looked again at Dean, seemed to hesitate, then pulled off one of his gloves, wiping the sweat off his face with his forearm. “Perhaps you would care to dine with me before you go?”
As if on cue, Dean’s stomach growled. He grinned.
Before his brother could speak, Sam spoke up. “No, thanks.” His tone was polite, but firm.
Dean looked at him and raised a querying eyebrow.
“Trust me,” Sam took hold of his brother’s arm, squeezing hard.
Dean nodded, starting to get the message that something was seriously out of whack.
The knight tossed the glove to the ground and started tugging on the other one. “Normally I would have the help of a servant to remove my armor,” he said casually. “But he died a few weeks ago. I am in need of a new man to service me. You will stay.”
He wasn’t looking at Sam. And the way he was staring at Dean made it pretty damned clear that “service” had a double meaning here.
Finally, Dean got it.
“Oh.” Dean took a step back. “No, thanks. Appreciate the offer, but me and my brother, we gotta get goin’.
“No.” The knight’s tone was mild but firm. “You will stay.” The second gauntlet was tossed to the ground and he started to work on the buckles for his chest armor.
Sam darted forward abruptly and gave a violent push to the knight’s chest. The man fell back, grabbing at Sam as he went down, but Sam danced back out of the way, grabbing up the man’s sword, and then the dead man’s sword as well.
“Thief!” The Black Knight struggled to rise but fell back, helpless.
Dean burst out laughing. “He looks like an upended turtle!”
Sam gave his brother an impatient look, then said to the knight, “Look, I’m not stealing it. I just want to keep my head where it belongs. We’ll leave it a little ways out.” He handed one of the heavy weapons to his still-chuckling brother. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“You! Boy!” The knight pointed arrogantly at Dean. “You will stay!”
Dean scowled at him. “Bite me, dude.”
The knight grinned at him, expression suddenly feral. “I will.”
“Ew.” Dean made a face. “Maybe we should kill him, Sammy. He looks like the kinda guy to hold a grudge. I don’t want him crawling into my boxers down the road.”
“No, Dean, we can’t!” Sam’s voice was firm. “We can’t disturb the timeline. We can’t disturb so much as a blade of grass. It could change history. Hell, if we do too much damage, we could disappear ourselves.”
“But that guy last night - ” Dean protested.
“Like you said, we didn’t have a choice, then.”
“Fine!” Dean huffed. “He lives! But - ” He stomped over to the Black Knight and gave him a hard knock on the head with the pommel of the sword. “That oughta keep him for a while,” he said, satisfied. “Okay, Sammy, we’re outta here!”
Keeping an eye out in case the Black Knight’s head was harder than it looked, they hid the swords in the forest a half mile away, in the middle of a cluster of blackberry bushes.
Freaking starving, the boys stuffed themselves with the huge, juicy berries until they couldn’t eat any more. Then, mouths black with juice, they filled their pockets and trudged on through the forest.
“This really blows, Sammy,” Dean said glumly. “First that whack job priest tries to get us strung up, then Sir Spanks A Lot wants to make me his bitch. Freaking witches.”
“Hate to tell ya, Dean.” Sam slung a comforting arm around his brother’s shoulders. “But things could be worse.”
“Yeah?” Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow. “How?”
“Well, I haven’t seen any clowns and planes haven’t been invented yet,” Sam said lightly. “So count your blessings, okay?”