The Witch and the Wolfen, Sam/Dean, 4/10
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Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 + Epilogue || ART
Chapter 4 - The Rescue
Dean came back to consciousness slowly. He started to move, thought better of it, and simply opened his eyes. He could see his desk and the gray robe he’d left slung over the chair in his room. And his whiskey glass was back on his side table, refilled. Somehow he was back in his room in the Bunker, lying in his bed. He wasn’t covered, but he felt warm and relaxed. Tentatively, he moved his arm, the action pulling on the skin of his shoulder, but there wasn’t even a twinge of pain.
Emboldened, he moved both arms up beside him. Still pain-free. He pushed himself to sitting. Nothing, nothing at all. He remembered after Ched had finished, he’d been delirious from the spell and in pain for days. He remembered his father’s ashen face as he looked at him lying on the bed in Ched’s spare room. It had taken a long time to recuperate.
He rolled his shoulders tentatively, not even a twinge. The witch was a man of his word. He’d said he’d have Dean up and running. He took a sip from the glass and sighed as the liquid burned its way down, leaving a relaxing heat in its path. He wondered how long he’d actually slept. Maybe the witch had put him under for a week. He decided he needed to get dressed and investigate.
As he rose, he remembered the full length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. He went over to look at the witch’s work.
The sigils on his side were in shapes he didn’t recognize at all, but they looked strangely beautiful the way they rolled down his rib cage and along the side of his belly. Even more curious, he pulled open the top drawer on one of the bureaus and took out the hand mirror he’d seen there earlier, to get a look at his back.
It was like looking at a weird echo. The tattoo wasn’t his tattoo anymore. It was as simple as that. It was somehow more….striking. And beautiful. The silver and the black moved together perfectly. The octagon had morphed into a true perfect circle, the runes ringing it clearer. A sun shape now blossomed from the middle of the circle, and things were moved to where they should always have been. Dean blinked, wondering if he was imagining all this, but what he was seeing stayed the same.
Perplexed, he turned to the dresser on the other side of the room where a new pile of clothing lay in plain view. A dark green corduroy shirt, a grey henley, and a dark grey pair of jeans. Dean whistled; the witch sure had good fashion sense. He dressed quickly, marveling at how good he felt. The last time the sigil had been charged Dean had experienced a weird staticky buzz for over a month that had driven him to distraction until it died down to a low hum. That was now gone, completely. Instead, he felt energized. He growled. knocked back the last of his whiskey, and headed to the door.
He found the Sam easily enough, on the top floor, hunched over the map. Outside the sky was a furious black. The storm was directly overhead, but the witch’s protective warding kept both wraith and storm back from the Bunker.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” the witch replied, beckoning him over. “So, we have some good news.”
Dean stared at him expectantly.
“Lucifer might be out there, but nothing has poked at my warding. And it may not look it right now, but the storm is moving off the other way.”
“So they can’t detect us?”
Sam nodded.
“That is good news.”
“And the wolfen pack has moved off with it. Cas is completely in the clear. We’ll probably be able to go get him tomorrow. That is, if you’re interested in my offer. But maybe I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. How are you feeling?”
Dean’s head was spinning. He was glad the witch had taken his foot off the gas. Things were coming at him a bit too fast. “Uh, good. How long exactly was I out?” He tried to keep the suspicion out of his voice.
The witch glanced over at something - an actual working clock in the corner. He could see the second hand moving. “I’d say about four hours. How are you feeling?”
“Good, good. Way better than when Ched did the spell.”
“No offense, Dean, but I think Ched was a butcher. Half of his runes were misshapen, and some of the sigil lines were physically in the wrong place. I took the opportunity to fix the design while it was being charged. It should leave you with more energy and the ability to heal faster. Some of his work must have caused you actual pain.”
Dean chewed at his lips. He knew Ched had been a sadist, but he didn’t know he was that incompetent. “Last time I was in agony for days, with this persistent hum, drove me nuts. It’s gone.”
“Honestly, he should never have been allowed to practice magic.” The witch shook his head, his eyes dark with anger. “On the plus side, I don’t think you’ll ever need to get this recharged. Besides the improved design, I added a siphoning spell I’ve been tinkering with. It will steal small amounts of energy from the earth, animals, plants - not enough to kill anything, but enough to keep your shielding powered for the foreseeable future.”
Dean blinked. He was now witch-free. He didn’t have to worry about where his next recharge would come from. “This is all kind of unbelievable.”
“Oh, believe it. Magic should be a force for good, but often that’s not how it’s used.” The witch’s expression lightened. “You must be starving. I’d like to introduce you to the divine pleasures of fresh moose steaks a la Sam. I’ve got them in this great marinade I make. Roxy snuck them into my knapsack back in town. And we’ve got apple pie for dessert.”
“Did you say pie?”
Sam smiled. “I did.”
“I think I only had it a couple of times, years ago. Sounds fantastic. Want me to cook the steaks? Dad said I was a hell of a cook.”
A couple of hours later Dean leaned back in his chair, groaning. “Why did I eat so much?”
Sam chuckled, gathering the empty plates to carry to the kitchen. “Too much steak?”
“It wasn’t just the steak. I think it was the two huge helpings of pie after the steak.” Dean wrapped his arms dramatically around his aching stomach.
“We can blame it on the spell if you want.”
Sam’s eyes glinted with mirth as he set the dishes in the sink and went to the bar to pour them each a drink. He set them down on a coffee table in front of a comfortable L shaped sectional and took a seat on the shorter end of the L. Dean forced himself upright with another groan.
“I need a distraction. Want to talk about how we’re going to rescue Cas?”
“That mean you’re taking me up on my offer?”
“Yeah looks like. Only caveat is if it looks like Lucifer can track me down here, It’s hasta la vista baby. I don’t want to put you in any danger.”
“Excellent, then there’s one thing I would like to ask of you. To formerly make you my familiar.”
Dean’s brain stumbled on those words. “Wait - what the hell?”
“It’s perfectly okay. I did a little research on wolfen lore while you were sleeping, and it turns out wolfen don’t need to be a creature of a demon. They could just as easily be the associate of a witch.”
Dean growled, “So you make me your slave? Instead of some demon? Great, just great. I knew there was another shoe to fall.” Dean could feel himself tremble with rage, his canines lengthening, but this time Dean didn’t mind. This time Dean was seeing red.
“Dean…”
Dean could hear the hurt in Sam’s voice.
“I would never… No witch has ever enslaved a wolfen, ever. This spell is just to allow you and I to better work together, a more efficient way of communicating when you shift.”
“So, you’re gonna order me around in my head. Great, just great. I knew there was another shoe to fall.” Dean could feel himself tremble with rage.
“Dean!”
Sam’s voice was ice-cold.
“No, I told you before…The association of witch and wolfen is entirely voluntary. If you don’t want to ‘hear’ me all you need to do is concentrate to shut me out. The point of the spell is to be able to share some of my magic with you, as well as access to the Bunker and some other magics I will show you. You might be interested to know that one of the great indicators a wolfen is aligned with the side of good is their fur colour. And yours, Dean, is white.”
“That wouldn’t stop Lucifer from wearing me like a suit, though.”
“No, but it does mean you're more resistant to evil than a darker wolfen. The darker fur indicates their true nature.”
“Huh?”
“How about we put this decision aside for now and watch a movie? What about The Terminator?” Sam arched a brow at Dean.
“The Termi-what?” Dean plopped in the middle of the long section of the sofa, knees spread, his hands basketed between them.
“You know the movie, Terminator. The line you quoted, hasta la vista baby.”
“Hey that’s just something my old man used to say. I never saw the movie. Not many people even had electricity until ten or so years ago. I can count on one hand the number of movies I’ve seen, and that wasn’t one of them.”
“Well why don’t we watch it? I have the DVD.”
Dean looked at him in surprise.
“I think you’ll like it.”
“Okay, why not. What do we have to do?”
“Nothing much, just grab a couple of pillows and get comfortable.”
Dean didn’t have to be told twice. He grabbed one of the pillows at the end of the sofa and stretched out. The sectional was as soft and comfortable as it looked.
Sam went to the other end of the room to fiddle with a black machine. He popped a shiny gold disc into it and pressed a button. The black panel TV on the wall flickered to life. As he walked back to the sofa, he pressed another button to dim the lights, just as the movie began.
Dean had seen movies before, shown on rattly projectors that cast faded images on tired bedsheets. Nothing compared to the crisp bright colours and images on Sam’s flat screen display. Sam joined him on the sofa. The shorter end had an arm rest and cushions of its own that Sam made himself comfortable on, Dean’s head lay near Sam’s lap.
An hour and a half later Dean lay there, stunned.
“So, what did you think?”
“That was freaking amazing. I’ve never seen anything even close to that before. Do you have any others?” All Dean could think of is how much his dad would have enjoyed a night like this.
Sam laughed. “I think I’ve got one right up your alley.” He went to change the disc. “This is a little show called Godzilla versus Mothra.”
“I used to play with a plastic Godzilla when I was a kid. Oh man, bring it on!”
Sam hit play but didn’t join Dean on the sofa.
“Hey, you’re not watching? Is this boring for you?”
“No, no, I’m just making up some popcorn - the traditional movie snack.”
Fierce popping soon came from a pot on the stove, and then Sam was back with two heaping bowls of popcorn. “Dig in.”
Dean shoved his hand in the popcorn and was delighted to find it covered with buttery goodness. He shoved a handful in his mouth. “Mmm, even your popcorn is better than any I’ve ever had.” He grinned at Sam, and noted the faint blush on Sam’s cheeks generated by the compliment. A loud roar from Godzilla brought his gaze back to the screen before Sam noticed.
In spite of all his complaints of being full, Dean managed to inhale his bowl of popcorn and was careful to clean his hands of any butter before stretching out again. He spent the rest of the movie stealing glimpses of Sam’s expressions as he watched the movie. It was good, too. He could see himself watching it again. He could definitely see the advantages of taking this job with Sam.
¤ ¤ ¤
Someone was shaking his shoulder. Dean jolted back to consciousness.
“Wake up, sleepy head,” Sam said.
Dean glanced around wildly. One minute he’d been watching Godzilla kicking Mothra’s butt, then he was dead to the world. He blinked at Sam, looming over him.
“There you are.” Sam straightened and stepped back.
Dean let out a jaw-cracking yawn.
“Someone’s tired,” Sam teased. “I think we need to get you to bed.”
Dean wanted to protest, but instead yawned again. Yeah, maybe a bit tired.
Sam stretched out an arm for Dean to grasp and pulled him to standing. “Stairs or elevator?” Sam asked as he guided him out of the living room, shutting off the few remaining lights.
“Elevator.” Dean said, forcing himself to use the right term. In truth he was too tired to face the stairs. He could feel himself tensing until Sam grabbed his hand in his and pressed the button. Dean leaned tiredly against him until the elevator doors rolled open, and they stepped into the moving box together.
On the ride down he thought about their day together. Sam had not only kept his word to heal him, he’d gone further and made him self-sufficient. He had been open and honest at every turn, and although at times Dean had been highly dubious of the witch, he’d never done anything more than be a complete professional. Dean closed his eyes, thinking about Sam’s offer of employment. He liked Sam, maybe liked him more than he wanted to admit. And he thought Sam liked him back, too. What’s the worst that could happen? So far Sam had been nothing but kind and good. The Bunker was great, and looking after a giant witch that was already pretty independent couldn’t be that much work. What did he really have to lose?
When Sam dropped him off at his door, he paused awkwardly, looking into Dean’s eyes. Dean smiled back questioningly, and leaned toward Sam. But then the witch took a step back. His mouth twitched in what could have been a grimace or a smile as he murmured, “Good night, Dean.”
“Night, Sam.” Dean watched him continue down the hall, the hint of Sam’s interest and his own lingering in the air.
¤ ¤ ¤
In spite of their late night, Dean was up, showered and shaved, first thing in the morning. As Sam had promised the wraith storm had moved past their borders and beyond. He sat at one of the barstools near the huge plate glass window and watched the clouds rush by while he considered his decision to become Sam’s familiar. Of course, as soon as Dean trusted someone, that’s went things usually went sideways. He and Dad had trusted Ash, right up until he told the vamps where to find them. But Dean had fixed that. Ash wouldn’t be betraying anyone anytime soon. And push come to shove, he could fix this witch, too.
“Hey, you’re up?” Sam greeted him as he came into the room. “And way less beardy!” Sam nodded in approval.
“Yeah, smooth as a dolphin’s belly as my dad used to say.” Dean grinned as he ran his hand along his newly naked jaw. “I’m all rested and raring to go. What’s the plan?”
“I’d like to scry for any demonic presence again, including the wolfen. If we’re clear, we can head out to collect Cas.”
“I’ll go in my wolfen form. My senses are sharper. I’m sure my stuff is frozen solid by now anyway.”
“No problem. How do you normally handle the clothing thing? I don’t imagine you abandon everything you’ve got every time you shift.”
“No, I have a harness I use to carry my pack and supplies once I’ve shifted, but we had to move too fast last time.”
Sam did his spell again over the map. They could see Cas’s blue dot in the same place as yesterday, but nothing red in the area. “It looks clear, but doesn’t mean there isn’t a trap.”
Dean shrugged. “Sam….”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever had a familiar before?”
“Well, no.”
“So you’re not quite sure how this will work out either.”
“No, but I’m confident it will help us work better together. I wouldn’t suggest it if it didn’t have some benefits.”
“And what do you get out of it?
Sam paused, “I guess a friend. Backup. You’re not the only one that’s been alone, Dean. And if it doesn’t work out between us, the spell is completely reversible. But in the end, I think you’ll just have to trust me that I think this will work.”
“Trust, huh? I ain’t big on trust.”
“I can’t compel you. This is a decision you need to make on your own. What does your gut say? I think it will be good for both of us.” Sam stared at him earnestly.
Dean stared at the witch. He’d already made his decision last night; his gut had told him to go for it. Sam’s answers just confirmed that decision. “Okay, let’s do this. As long as it’s reversible.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose in surprise like he thought Dean would never agree to this.
“Oh, it’s absolutely is, anytime you want to leave.”
“Then let’s get this show on the road.”
Sam nodded and bowed his head. He moved his hands in a circular motion, like he was gathering something. Glimmering threads began to appear and coil into a loose ball as Sam gathered them out of thin air. Gold sparks came off them in his palms. Sam’s eyes glowed green as he said, “in servitio meo, in quo nunc reperiuntur, decerno id familiare”
When Sam opened his hands, the ball began to unravel. It flew through the air toward Dean and Sam, sending sparks everywhere. It caught both men in the chest, and for a faint moment the two men were joined by a glimmering line. Dean watched as the sparks sank into his chest, and the thread faded away. He felt only a slight tingle, but otherwise no ill effects.
Dean rubbed his chest, looking down, “That it?”
“Yup. It will allow me to link with you and share energy back and forth if one of us is hurt. It also gives you a greater mastery of simple magic than the average mundane. And as a wolfen claimed by a witch, no demon should be able to lay claim to you.”
“Now we’re talking!”
“I thought you’d like that one. I can also solve your clothing and boots problem. But first - food!”
After a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon, they were ready to get going. Sam took Dean to their stores, down on B4. Dean was in awe of the inventory, rack after rack of shirts and pants and boots and socks and underwear.
“So much stuff here. It’s a gold mine!” Dean whistled as he picked up one of 20 different pairs of winter hiking boots in his size.
“The Men of Letters were hoarders. We’ll have to get you in here when we come back and do a little shopping, get you set up. I’ll go grab my own kit and meet you in the lobby.”
Dean nodded and began to try on boots.
In no time Dean had a small bundle of the essentials as well as a dark green winter coat with fur trim on the hood and a new pair of mittens. It was like Christmas. He wore the boots and the coat, stuffing the rest into a knapsack.
He returned to the lobby elevator. Dean tried to remember the proper pronunciation, and he had to admit, he was getting more at ease with the bright box.
Sam was standing there with his knapsack, already in his winter coat. Two rifles lay against the wall. Dean nodded at Sam in approval.
Dean handed Sam his pack and began to strip. Sam shouldered the guns and pulled on his beanie and hat and wrapped his scarf around his neck. He looked the other way while Dean shifted.
He knew as far wolfen went he was a bit of an outlier. Most wolfen were dark brown or black with gold eyes, but Dean retained his moss green eyes, and his fur was grey and white, with only a few grey splotches across his chest. He thought it was God playing a joke on him, keeping the freckles. It was interesting now to find out that his fur color was actually an sign of his good nature. Huh? Maybe the freckles meant he wasn’t a complete goody two shoes. A wolfy smile filled his face.
They walked out into the snow. The wraith storm had strewn about a lot of broken branches and debris, but nothing major had been damaged.
Sam whispered a spell each time he closed a door or locked a gate. “I’ll teach you those when we get back,” he assured Dean.
Dean knelt down so Sam could climb on then headed back the way he remembered coming.
“Okay, now I want to test out our new link, Dean.”
[Oh yeah?], Dean thought to himself.
[Yeah.] Sam’s voice echoed in his mind.
Dean stumbled to a stop. [What the hell?] Sam’s voice was so clear it was like he was speaking out loud.
[Now remember what I said: if you don’t want to hear me, just concentrate on tuning me out.]
Dean glanced at Sam and concentrated. Sam’s voice disappeared from his head.
Sam spoke aloud. “If you want to hear me again, just think about hearing me, and you’ll be able to.”
[I got to admit it’s a lot easier than playing charades as a wolfen,] Dean admitted begrudgingly.
Dean chewed on the whole link thing. Other than the occasional direction to keep them on track, Sam, for his part mercifully shut up and let him think. He felt bad about jumping to conclusions about Sam again.
[We should be getting close,] Sam announced cautiously.
Dean went on alert, testing the air. He couldn’t sense anything, but the woods had grown unnaturally quiet, which made him uneasy. He kept moving his head to catch the wind but there were no obvious scents. Still, Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. After another couple hundred yards, Dean stopped and sniffed again. This time he could smell Cas’s scent. [Cas is close. No wolfen, or any other critter, but something is wrong here. I’m just not sure what.]
[Should we separate and come up on Cas from either side?]
Dean nodded, and Sam jumped from his back.
[You wait here until I give the go ahead. I’ll scout the area out and circle round to the other side,] Dean ordered.
He padded out into the woods. In wolfen form with his wide padded feet, he could move through the woods more quietly than a human. He gave Cas’s location a wide berth, but could spot nothing dangerous.
[I’m in position. Other than the fact it’s freakishly quiet, I can’t spot anything. I guess we have to take our chances.]
They found Cas exactly where they’d left him in a little clearing in the woods, the blue barrier still humming around the donkey. Cas for his part looked none the worse for wear and brayed happily when Sam came into view.
“I’m here, boy. Who’s a good donkey? Who’s a good donkey?” Sam rubbed Cas’s head and ears while the donkey rolled his head in bliss. Soon an apple appeared, and Cas chewed happily as Sam slipped off his knapsack and the two rifles and pulled Dean’s bag out of his own. [I’ll check Cas over and lower the wards while you change.]
Dean nodded and shifted quickly. Even though it was sunny, there was still frost in the air, and he hurried to change. Dressed, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and went over to collect his hurriedly discarded clothing, still lying frozen in the snow. Fortunately, Cas hadn’t nibbled on any of it while they were gone. He grabbed his green knit cap and knocked the worst of the snow off it and pulled it on. It was one of the few things he still had that his Dad had given him. That and the pearl-handled revolver his dad had rebuilt for him. No sign of his Stetson, must have blown away, but at least he still had his cap. He found his old knapsack lying near the roots of a tree and bundled everything up. Everything would need to be hung out and dried later.
[Let’s get the hell out of here. Something is giving me the heebie jeebies,] Dean grumbled, keeping a firm grip on his rifle.
[Yeah, I hear you.] Sam glanced around and tugged on Cas lead.
Then everything went to hell.
The snow that was banked around the little clearing they stood in exploded in all directions. White sprays of snow went everywhere as seven mutant ice giants staggered up out of the drifts. Each was easily eight feet tall and vaguely humanoid. That is, if a human were stretched thin and starved and turned into a popsicle. Dean could see through the frozen glass-like limbs to the trees beyond. Two of the closest creatures reached for him. Without thinking, Dean began shooting.
Ice shattered as the bullets hit. One creature’s leg was blown off, another’s arm was partially shattered, but they kept coming. Dean kept backtracking, as he continued to fire.
He yelled across Cas at Sam. “They’re vulnerable to bullets. Try for the head.”
He tried to catch a glimpse of Sam. He just hoped he’d got to his weapon in time.
Distracted, Dean barely ducked in time to avoid a scythe-like swipe by one of the creatures as they continued to bear down on him. He ducked behind a tree to reload. He looked over at the gentle witch he’d gotten to know and saw that he had transformed into a deadly killing machine. Sam’s big muscular body moved with all the intention grace of a ninja. Transfixed, Dean watched him cut through the ice giants like they weren’t even there, switching from magic to bullets with a terrifying ease.
Cas was pulling his weight, too. His hooves connected with one of the ice giants in the torso and snapped it in half. But the top half was still clawing its way toward Dean.
Over Cas’s braying, Dean could make out Sam chanting. Dean kept firing, following his own advice to aim for the head. The nearest one’s head exploded in a satisfying spray of ice as his bullets connected. The one behind it got hold of Dean’s leg and dragged him down. With no time to reload, Dean dropped his rifle and pulled out his pistol. The ice giant clawed its way up Dean’s body, shredding clothing and flesh in its wake. Dean raised his gun with a shaking hand to shoot it in the face when the long, ice cold arms of a different giant grabbed him from behind, knocking the gun from his hands.
He tried to squirm free, but the monster had him pinned tight to its body. Dean couldn’t move his arms. Instead of crushing and killing him though, the ice giant slowly stood, dragging Dean cursing and kicking along with it. It dawned on him that these creatures wanted…him. Lucifer had sent them to lie in wait for him, not to kill him, but to take Dean to him.
“No!” Dean screamed, kicking uselessly at the ice giant’s legs. Unfazed, it turned and began to lumber east, half carrying, half dragging a struggling Dean. The remaining intact giants fell into step behind it. He tried to shift, but something was stopping him from shifting.
[They’ve got me, Sam!] Dean finally remembered he had the link.
Behind him he could hear Sam still putting up a fight. He had taken out at least one with a blast of fire-magic that had the creature screaming in a horrible high-pitched whine before it disappeared into a hissing cloud of steam. The top half of the one Cas had cracked in two now followed the one holding Dean, clawing its way through the snow. Sam shot that one, too. The first bullet only took out its shoulder, but the second got him right in the head.
The last two ice giants flanking Dean’s captor turned to face Sam, but another round of fire-magic had them crumbling to their knees, dissolving. Dean’s monster slowly turned, Dean helplessly caged in its arms, as it began to advance on Sam.
Sam was chanting again, but his previously glowing hands were rapidly fading to normal. With a snarl, he reached for his gun instead.
“Shoot Sam, shoot. Don’t let it take me!” Dean screamed.
Sam kept backtracking as he struggled for a clear shot. [I don’t want to hit you.]
[I don’t care, Sam. I won’t be Lucifer’s meat suit.]
Sam’s first shot hit the ice giant’s neck. The creature let out a fearsome scream as the force of the bullet spun it round. As it pinwheeled, it lost its grasp on Dean, but not before tearing four long furrows across Dean’s chest, cutting through skin and bone. Dean was flung to the ground as the giant staggered to keep its balance and stay upright, leaving Sam a window for a clear shot to the head. Chucks of ice flew through the air as his bullet hit its mark.
“Dean!” Frantic, Sam slammed his gun in his holster and scrambled madly over the fallen ice giant chunks to reach him.
“I’m okay. I’m okay. He let go.” Dean tried to raise a hand, but his arm wasn’t working just now.
“Oh my God, Dean, you’re hurt.”
Dean looked at Sam, dazed. Sure, maybe he’d been scratched, but really? Then he looked down at his chest and saw the gouges the ice giant had left. His head lolled weakly, and he wanted to vomit. Instead, his gaze fixed on the snow. All the snow around him was red, really red. Maybe an unsurvivable amount of red. Dean dropped his head back in the snow. “Yeah, maybe patch me up a bit,” he wheezed.
Sam dropped to his knees beside him and held his hands above the worst of the wounds on Dean’s chest. His hands glowed again, surrounding him with a deep golden light.
Dean’s eyelids were so heavy. He tried to keep them open, but they just closed all on their own. He was so tired and cold, why was it suddenly so very cold. He’d just lie here and rest a bit while Sam did his mojo thing….Then maybe he’d bring him a blanket….
“No, dammit! I’m not losing you now that I’ve found you.” Sam voice was a muted mumble as Dean drifted into unconsciousness.
¤ ¤ ¤
Sam hunched over Dean’s body in concentration, funneling every molecule of healing energy he could muster into the wounded man’s body. There was so much damage to Dean’s chest, and his leg was practically clawed off as well. Sam bit at his lip. He could do this. He’d patched up worse, hadn’t he? Well, maybe not, but he wasn’t going to lose this battle. He drew energy from Cas, not enough to hurt the donkey, but at this point every bit of extra life force he could pull from around him could help. That included several creatures in the forest - a bear in its den, a couple of rabbits, and a family of deer travelling nearby. The sun was low in the sky by the time all the wounds had healed enough for Dean to be out of immediate danger, vulnerable new, pink skin in their wake. And he could sense the change as Dean’s slow, sluggish heart began to beat stronger.
The priority now was to get Dean to a safe, warm place. That meant they needed to get back to the Bunker before full dark. Putting Dean on Cas’s back was a non-starter with Dean’s barely healed leg, let alone Cas’s unease with the wolfen. He’d have to build a travois to drag him back. Sam staggered to his feet and pulled a small ax out of his pack. He found a copse of saplings close by and felled enough to make the travois. Then lashed the canvas covering from the supply packs onto the frame. He used one of their bedrolls as a cushion on top of the canvas. Then he wrapped Dean as well as he could in their spare clothing and covered him with the other bedroll.
Next he loaded all their guns and packs on Cas. He had just stepped back, wondering if he had missed anything, when he felt a strange surge of power.
A flicker of movement in the corner of Sam’s eye had him spinning around, gun drawn.
A stream of pale blue light rose from the ground. Some kind of spell triggered by the death of the ice giants? The light resolved into the hazy, staticky image of a man floating in midair. Like the images on the old reel-to-reels, it was ghostly and faded.
“Well, well, well, Winchester. You must be quite pleased with yourself. You evaded my wolfen, and the only way you’d be seeing this image now is if you beat my ice giants. But this is only round one, my boy, and you must be getting pretty tired by now. You’ve been on the run for a while, and you gotta know next time I’ll bring even more to the party. You know you’ll be mine eventually. It’s just a simple matter of time.
“See you soon, Dean.”
The image flickered again and went out. Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Huh.”
He’d see about that.
¤ ¤ ¤
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